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PUBLISHED AT 118 NASSAU ST

1850.

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INDEX.

Angling (Review, P. P.) 32.

Arctic Regions, Map of, 571.

Aspects of Nature, by Alexander Tan Humboldt,
(Review of,) Deserts. Their division into the
Desert proper or Sahara ; the Leanos or plains
on the eastern coast of South America, which
are half the year devoid of vegetation ; the
Steppe, furnishing subsistence throughout the
year for pastoral tribes, and the Copse, or bar-
ren, shrubby wastes of the North of Europe ;
the physiognomy of Plants, as an indication of
those natural features that direct the civilization
of races : volcanoes, 143.

Bremer, Miss, at Home, 423.

British encroachments and aggressions in Central
America ; commercial importance of Bay of
Fonseca ; Island ol Tigre ; seizure by the Bri-
tish of the Port of San Juan de Nicaragua ; ef-
fect of relative geographical position of Great
Britain and the United States on Asiatic com-
merce ; advantage to the United States of ship
canal by route of Lake Nicaragua ; Buccaneers
originators of English intercourse with these re-
gions ; character of the natives; diffieulties be-
tween Spain and Great Britain rc-pecting this
territory ; final relinquishment of ail claim by
British government ; revival of British attempts
on decline of Spanish power ; grants from the
Mosquito king to Jamaica traders ; revocation
of grants ; seizure of the port of San Juan by
the British ; war on Nicaragua ; Briti.~h exhibit
of the Mosquito question ; letter of Lord Palm-
crston ; refutation, IbH, 335.
Browning's Poems, (Review,) 368.

Cabriolet by Ik. Marvel, 1G2.

Clay, Mr., speech of, (Review); policy of the na-

tion in regard to slavery and its extension ; sup-
pression of slavery in all territories of the United
States by act of central government ; expedien-
cy discussed ; special message and scheme of
President Taylor ; advice of the President to
New Mexico to form State government; re-
commends early admission of Calilornia ; Boun-
dary question between New Mexico and Texas
to be brought before Supreme Court and fettled
on international principles ; resolutions oflered
by Mr. Clay ; power of Congress to legislate for
territories undeniable but inexpedient; proposi-
tion of Mr. Clay respecting boundary and debts
of Texas ; abolition of slavery in District of Co-
lumbia ; slave trade in the District ; rendition
of fugitive slaves ; slave traffic between the
States ; compromise line between slave and free
territory ; such line illusory ; slave or white la-
bor cannot be forced where they have not their
proper conditions ; balance of power ; dissolu-
tion of the Union ; disastrous consequences, 219.

Cooper, J. Fenimore, Works of (Review by G. W.
P.) 406.

Cuba (Review) ''Cuba and the Cubans, by the au-
thor of Letters from Cuba ;" geographical and
commercial importance of Cuba ; revolutions in
that island ; horrible political persecutions ; de-
scriptions of plantations, their beauty and luxu-
riance ; indolence and luxury ot the Cubans;
women of Cuba, thtir early beauty : religion ;
statistics of education ; importance of Cuba as a
possession to England or to the United States,
512.

Democracy in France, by M. Guizot (Review, by
O.); sources of imperfection of human judgment;
the evil of the times imputed by M. Guizot to its
idolatry of democracy ; government in a demo-
cracy ; radical theories; democracy a govern-
ment of induction, from tne experience ot num-
bers as recorded by their eufirage ; aristocracy a

Index.

government of syllogism, from the partial expe-
rience of a few ; right to government, where
ro-tiiig—d.'moeratie republic ; its origin ; essen-
tial; elements of sucicty in France, viz : the fa-
mily, property and labor ; political elements of
society in France, viz : the legitimists, the bour-
geoisie, the socialists ; condition of permanent
government : M. Giiizot's standard is the empi-
rical example of England, not the inductions of
general hiftory, nor the laws of social science ;
moral conditions of social quiet in France, viz:
the family spirit, the political spirit, and the reli-
gious s|)irit, 1.

Dana, Richard H., poems and prose writings of,
(Review. G. W. P.) G6.

Duel without seconds, a daguerreotype from the
State House uf Arkansas, 418.

Everstone, bv the author of Anderport records,
77, 108,209, 3G9, 497, GU3.

Franklin, Sir John, and the Arctic expeditions;
!Scoie?by's voyages ; Ross's voyage ; Buchan's
voyage ; voyages of Parry ; Lyon's, Clavering's
and Sabine's voyages ; Franklin's second expe-
dition ; Ross's fccond voyage ; Sir John Frank-
Un's last expedition, 572.

Judge not lest ye be judged," 300.

King, Hon. Thomas Butler, report on California,
(Review) ; colonization in America ; increase
and expansion of population ; necessity of ex-
tending the geographical limits of the Union ;
peace policy ; expansive power of the republic ;
rapid settlement of California ; abstract of Mr.
King's report on that country ; yield of the gold
mines ; cost of the California colony to the old
States; advantages and disadvant.nges ; Mr.
Clay's committee of thirteen ; objects of the
committee ; State.? should be admitted to the
Union for other reasons than those given by the
opposing factions, 443.

Lynch Law. uses and abuses of, (P. P.) sum-
mary justice, its occasional necessity — Back-
woodsman— conditions which give ri;e to Lynch
Law — "Regulators" and " Mod- rators" — an-
ecdotes of those associations, 459.

M'lle dela Scigleire, 17—129.
Moss and Rust— Poetry, (G. M. P.) 640,
Montaigne, Michel de, works of — (Review) 47.
Macaulay's history of England, (Review J. B. C.)
347.

The Old Ilomstead— a poem, 52D.

Poe, Edgar A. (Review, G. W. P.) 301.
Poetry— Moss and Rust. ((i. M. P.) 040, the Old

Homestead, 529— Shipwreck, a Ballad, by W.

155.

Rabelais, Francois, Essay on the life and writinga
of, — Humor of dillerent nations ; birth, educa-
tion, and early traits of Rabelais; account of
his more celebrated works ; Pantagreul, 487.

Read's poems or a caution to critics, 287.

Report ot the secretary of the treasury, (J. D. W.)

Receipts and expenditures for the fiscal years end-
ing July 1849 and 1850 ; advantages political
and economical of collecting a revenue of cus-
toms ; system of public debt, its advantages ;
existing national debt ; growing expenses ol the
government ; necessity for an cllicient and eco-
nomical means of increasing the revenue ; pro-
position of Mr. Meredith ; commerce ; its val-
ue not always in the ratio of its profits ; politi-
cal economy, its fallacies ; intereouri^e of men, ,
social as well as economical ; comparison ot"
direct and indirect taxation ; direct taxation un-
favorable to agricultural interest ; England cir-
culates free-trade doctrines in this country to
sustain her manufactures ; all tarifls more or
less protective ; heavy duties most protective,
and furnish largest revenue at expense of foreign
capitalists ; eventually their result is a better
market for our cotton and food grovv'crs as well
as manufactures, 113.

Republic, stability and growth of the ; coloniza-
tion ; instability of European government.'^,
causes of the ; democracy an established form
of government in America ; reason of its sta-
bility ; the three dimensions of power in a
State, internal solidity, durability, and extent;
the aim of statesmanship to augment these ;
extension of the State ; colonial systems, that
of America the most elleetiial ; colonization by
the Greeks; Egyptians, PhaMiicians, Romans ;
Russian, Dutch, Spani.-^h, French and English
colonization ; delects of English colonial pol-
icy ; the thirteen American colonics ; origin of
the Union ; colonial policy of the United States
should be calculated to promote the peaceful
enlargement and conllrm the internal strength
of the Empire ; the war faction ; necessity of
adopting a settled policy to avert the evils of
war, 550.

Reviews.— Aspects of Nature, by Alexander Von
Humboldt, 143 ; Browning's Poems, 388 ; Cu-
ba and tlie Cubans, 512 ; Dana's Poems and
Pio:-e writings, 00 ; Michel de Montaigne, 47 ;
Mataulav's History of England, 347 ; Poe'3
Woiks,.30l ; Read's Poems, 287 ; Sidonia,4t)0 ,
Shirley, Jane Eyre and Wutliering Heights 230;
Rabelais, 487 ; Works of J. Fenimoie Cooper,
400.

Shipwreck, a Ballad, (by W.,) 155.
Soiithern Views of Emanciiiatioti and the slavo
trade. Introductory remaik.s ; No;lhein and

Index.

[- Southern extremes no index of state of feeling

•■ in the country at large ; views of both ?cction.s

.-liould bo fairly stated and discussed ; " Slavery

and the slave trade in the District of Columbia,"

>•' by a Mississippian ; "Letter on Slavery as a

domestic institution," by a Virginian, 331.

Shirley, Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights, (Re-
view by T. C. C), 230.

Sidonia, (Review), 400.

Spain, her ways, her women, and her wines, 292.

St. Pierre'.? Story, 55.

Sewaid, Hon. William H., E.v-Governor and U.
S. Senator of the State of New York, biogra-
phy of; early history; 1828, Mr. Seward joins
the whig party ; chosen President of Young
Men's State Convention at Utica ; 1830, elected
Senator from the 7th district ; advocates the
cause of internal improvement and universal
education ; opposes removal of deposits of pub-
lic moneys from United Slates Bank ; nomina-
ted for Governor; whig cause unsuccessful, and
Mr. Seward retires to his professional avocations ;
1837, Mr. Seward elected Governor of the State
of New York ; extracts from his first annual
message ; " anti-rent" agitation ; controversy
between New York and Virginia respecting fu-
gitives from justice ; re-elected Governor i ad-

vocate.? internal improvements, law reform,
land distribution, educational progress and a
diminution of e.vpenses of naturalization ; de-
clines a third nomination ; resumes prolessional
pursuit.'? ; case of Freeman the murderer ; Mr.
Seward checks lynch law, and popular preju-
dice ; during contests of 1848 addresses whigs
of Ohio and Pennsylvania ; extracts from
speeches; February, 1849, elected Senator of
United States ; extracts from celebrated speech
in the United Slates Senate, of March 11th,
1850, on the admission of California in connec-
tion with the slavery question, 622.

Western Prairies ; their beauty and characteristics ;

Western people, (T. C. C), 423.
Whitney's Pacific Rail Road ; Letter of Mr.

Whitney to the Editors of the London Times,

641.

Ycadon, Hon. Richard, memoir of ; Mr. Yeadon's
fiimily and education ; becomen editor of the
Chaileston, (S. C.) Courier; his services in the
legislatuie, m various public stations in South
Carolina, 477.

THE

AMERICAN EEVIE¥

No. XXV.

FOR JANUARY, 1850

DEMOCRACY IN FRANCE.*

The author of this work is a man of
great philosophical ability, and of a repu-
tation quite equal to his deserts. He pos-
sesses moreover that which gives a higher
authority with the public, a practical ex-
perience in the subject he treats. In pro-
posing to criticise a writer thus qualified in
reality, and confided in by the general
opinion, we feel obliged, alike by deference
to this opinion and difiidence of our own,
to premise a few explanations, by means of
which the reader may judge in turn of the
critic as well as the author.

For this very submissive procedure — so
characteristic, no doubt, of literary and all
other censors — we have still a more sub-
stantial motive than modesty. The preli-
minaries alluded to may also shed some
light upon the most important political
phenomenon of this or any previous age,
the revolutionary eruptions of 1848 and 9 ;
a light which appears requisite to the spe-
culators of all parties, and especially per-
haps to the gentlemen of the press. For,
respecting the true nature of this social
earthquake, there seems to be as yet quite
as little of discriminative agreement among
those who are predisposed to regard it with
predilection, as there is of comprehensive
intelligence in the opposite party. The
latter, are however, entirely positive, pre-
cise, dogmatic, in denouncing it. M. Guizot
is their enlightened advocate, or their doc-
trinal exponent. In submitting, therefore,
our strictures upon his book to the test of

principles, the real merits of the general
subject — involved as they are in fact in
these principles — must receive ample though
indirect elucidation.

The first of our explanations will remove
a certain presumption which would pre-
clude all argument, all evidence whatever.
With the acknowledged honesty as well as
ability and experience of Guizot, how, it
may be thought, can he well have been
very widely misled in a matter of politi-
cal science .'' Or supposing such the fact,
how can this or that critic, inferior to him
in some or perhaps all these qualifications,
expect to be listened to with attention in
pretending to convict him — and with him,
three-fourths of Europe — of error .'' This,
it will be observed, is the old argument
from authority. But, though this logical
opiate be now renounced by name, yet the
thing itself retains, and salutarily, all its
hold upon the instincts of the people, who
distrust it rather for the oppressions which
it has sanctioned than for the fallacies which
it involves. As preliminary therefore to the
evidence of fact, it will be well to show,
concerning the errors in question, that
neither is their occurrence a thing so im-
probable in M. Guizot, nor their detection
at all presumptuous in persons diflPerently
circumstanced. It is thought no presump-
tion that the peasant of the present day pre-
tends to see the errors, forexample, of witch-
craft and astrology ; and yet these had been
for ages devoutly beUeved by unanimous

* De La Democratie en France. Par M. Guizot. Paris, 1849.

TOL. V. NO. I. NEW SERIES. 1

13^03

Democracy in France.

[Jan.

Europe — including, M. Guizot. But the
difference of time is too, many as great or
greater intellects than only one of the ele-
ments of diversity in human judgments.

Of this habitual diversity there, are two
general causes. The one consists in the
variety of circumstances in which the same
subject is seen by different persons. The
other, in the variations of condition under
which the subject itself may exist at differ-
ent times. To the class of influences
which affect the vision belong, preeminent-
ly, education, religion, the several pas-
sions, the particular pursuits, the personal
interests. Now these are all so many
packets of judgments made up by other
parties — whether man, or God, or nature —
and imposed vipon each individual who is
born into society. The process by which
he applies them is therefore not judgment,
but mere association. At the impression
of a particular fact, the opinion oiigiually
attached to it springs up spontaneously.
The man-machine does but take the label-
ed judgment from his packet and deposit it
— much like the Laputan philosophers who |
conversed by means of bundles of sticks.
Such is, however, the judgment of most
men upon most subjects from the cradle
to the grave. It is necessarily the judg-
ment of all men, and of all ages of man-
kind, until they have attained that intel-
lectual manhood which fits and sets them
to review the provisional teachings of their
nonage, and to transform into principles
what had been hitherto but prejudices.
We mean by " prejudices," not necessarily
errors ; but, according to the etymology,
simple j?;-e -judgments, or judgments with-
out examination.

But the transformation will evidently be
more difficult, more imperfect, in propor-
tion as the prejudices are reinforced by
each other. Thus, if the religion second
the passions, as in some infamous supersti-
tions of antiquity, it will be more difficult
to rectify the perversions of either than if
they stood opposite or even isolated. Hard-
er still must be the task, if not quite hope-
less, when the early inculcations of reli-
gion are followed up by the routine of pro-
fession, and fortified by the instincts of in-
terest. For if a statesman has devoted
his life to the inculcation of a certain form
of government, has risen to public honors
through its temporary ascendancy, has in-

vested in its triumph the sole passion of
his nature, and the most obstinate of the
human heart, which is pride — we need
not be surprised to find hun not very per-
spicacious into the errors of that system ;
especially at the hour of its downfall and
his own. But this was the predicament of
the standard-bearer of the Doctrinaires
and ex-minister of the ex-royalty of
France.

Yet the more fundamental error of
Guizot's book does not proceed from the
distortions of those prejudices precisely.
It has its root rather in the second of our
general causes of misjudgment — the inad-
vertence to, not to say ignorance of the
variation of conditions. Guizot reasons as
if men were composed of the same men-
tal and moral elements to-day, as upon
descending from the ark. He recognizes
no normal progression in man or in govern-
ment. He employs, indeed, the word ; but
it is only with a tone of resignation or an
air of derision. "Order," as the end,
" power" as the means, and the eternal
statu quo which would be their necessary
consequence — this is the hopeful triad of
his govermental providence ; — a psycholo-
gical phenomenon truly wonderful in a
French philosopher of the present day,
and which requires a large combination and
intensity of the above influences to confirm
it ; but stranger still in a man who had
lectured long on the history of civilization.
For the principle of civilization is quite
incompatible with the theory in question,
which considers man, we repeat, as fixed
a quantity as a metal or a stone, of which
the properties are eternally the same in all
circumstances.

It is needless to state that this is not the
case with any organized being. On the
contrary the normal condition of this form
of existence is continual change. And
the change becomes more intense and in-
definite in proportion as the object ascends
in the scale of organization, from the ve-
getable to man, and from man himself to
society. It is thus that during childhood,
the individual and the state are governed
respectively by the pedagogue and the
priest. On advancing to maturity they
demand different rulers. This continual
progression of govermental forms, residt-
ing from the aggregate and accmnulated
progressions of the governed, is the key,

1850.]

Democracij in France.

as it has been the cause, of the late Euro-
pean revolutious ; and not only those in
particular, but the key to the whole history,
the laws, the destinies of society. It is
then against this history, these laws, that
destiny, that M. Guizot has had the har-
dihood to erect the sandbank of his book,
after their indignant flood had just sub-
merged the barricades of his master.

In the light of these general remarks
respecting the nature and occasion of the
errors suggested, we now proceed to exem-
plify in a careful and consecutive analysis.

First, however, it seems proper to advise
the reader, on the other hand, that it is
not errors alone which it will be our duty
to point him out. The exceUeucies of de-
tail are a good deal more numerous, and of
incontestible truth and importance. At
present these lie lost in a great degree to
all parties. By the progressives they are
included in the general prejudice against
the known politics of the author. To the
conservatives they teach no lesson, being
represented as concessions or casualties,
instead of general and providential causes.
To the impartial they bring no firm con-
viction, because of their incongruity with
the spirit and purpose of the publication.
Now, by exposing this incongruity; by de-
taching this vigorous undergrowth of prac-
tical truths from the rotten trunk of " or-
der," upon which Guizot would engraft
them ; by distinguishing both in his doc-
trines and in the principles which he com-
bats, the chafi" to be given to the fire from
the grain to be stored for use, the latter
may be rendered acceptable as well as in-
structive to all.

But it would be particularly available to
the American people — because the only
people that have yet a^^peared upon the
stage of the world in the condition to or-
ganize deliberately into an harmonious
and enduring system, the adverse move-
ments that are now distracting and long
shaU disorder the social peace and prospe-
rity of Europe ; and not only of Europe,
but after it of Asia, and so outward to the
most torpid extremities of humanity. This
we owe as an inheritance to our own pos-
terity, as an example to mankind, as a debt
to divine Providence, who has placed the
attainment peculiarly not only within our
reach, but athwart our path. It is a pride
to this Journal to commend it especially to

the consideration of the Whig party, whose
policy is already proficient in combining
firmness of principle with flexibility of mod-
ification. There remains in fact little else
than to substitute gradually the guidance
of science for the sure, indeed, but less
systematic impulses of patriotism and the
efibte phraseology of past politics. These
things have served us tolerably hitherto.
While confined to the native bays and in-
land seas of our political infancy, we
might, as did the ancient mariners, con-
trive to get along by coasting in view of
the promontories of precedent, marking the
rocks and quicksands of party opposition,
and looking aloft for our last bearings to the
familiar stars of the Revolutionary Fathers.
But this state of things is changed. We
are fast and irresistibly drifting out into a
shoreless ocean, where other principles of
steerage are perilously indispensable. They
must be something independent of all in-
dividuals, of all examples, of all tunes,
because embracing them all. This new
compass is the application of political or
social science. And the party whose
statesmen shall have first appropriated it
in this country may reasonably count upon
a long possession of the helm of affliirs.
Better and higher than this, by breaking
loose from red-tape, and routine, and ras-
cality of the present practice, they would
introduce into the art of goverment a re-
volution no less remarkable, perhaps, than
was effected by the magnet in the art of na-
vigation.

But, in the third place, the mode proposed
of examining the book of Guizot, will af-
ford us also the pleasure of doing justice,
amidst his faults, to a writer to whom, af-
ter all, both the letters and politics of the
age are quite as much indebted as to any
other individual thinker. A man whose
soul, still loftier than his genius, docs ho-
nor to the literary character — so much in
need, heaven knows, of an occasional re-
demption. A man of that sublime, because
self-centred dignity, which the petty stig-
matize as pride, and which remained the
same through his wide vicissitudes of for-
tune ; the same when a nameless student
he wrote for the newspapers from the pur-
lieus of Paris, as when after he stood forth
at the head of the French nation, that is
to say, the official leader of modern civil-
ization. And the same still in his fall.

Democracy in France.

[Jan.

when left by his lofty integrity to write for
bread again. This is a heart that might
have covered a thousand faults of head in
even the most mamanimous ages of the
world. How should it then be prized in
an age like the present, of universal tur-
moil aud trimnring, when so many beggars
get on horseback and fulfil the proverb,*
and statesmen of rank descend into jacket-
ed monkeys in order to ensconce them-
selves upon the flat back of the multitude,
seldom failing to ride it in the same dark
direction !

And now to the book. It is distributed
into seven or eight chapters, arranged and
entitled as follows : " Sources of the evil.
Government in a Democracy. The Dem-
ocratic form of Republic. The Socialist
Republic. The Real and Essential Ele-
ments of Society in France. Political Con-
ditions of Social Equality in France. Mo-
ral Conditions of the Same, and — Conclu-
sion.

Our analysis will proceed step by step in
this order :

Whence comes the evil 1 {of the present
times.) M. Guizot answers peremptorily,
it proceeds from what he terms, in his pre-
face, the "idolatry of democracy." The
expression is proper and profound. Eve-
ry affection, every aspiration of the himian
heart has, no less than the religious, its
stated period of idolatry. The medi-ceval
chivalry, generally, (as well as the worship
of the Virgin,) was the idolatry of love, in
the person of emancipated woman. The
avarice of commercial ages is the idolatry
of low vanity, paid to the physical object of
crime, the "graven image" of dollars.
Ambition is the idolatry of power, in the
similarly concrete shape of public office.
So, then, is there, undoubtedly, an idolatry
of liberty, under the symbol of democracy.
But is this an evil itself, that it should be
the source of all the others } And evil or
not, was it an event to be avoided } That
it is both one and the other the author be-
gins by quietly taking for granted ; a pro-
cedure that reveals already his mode of ar-
gument and philosophy.

To account the insurrections in question
evUs because they occasion suffering and
bloodshed — for this can be the only plausi-
ble ground — involves a number of conse-

* By riding to the d— 1,

quences no less monstrous than the follow-
ing : That civilization itself can be no
boon^i for it has been baptized at every suc-
cessive transformation, in the blood of in-
dividuals, and even nations ; that it is,
moreover, an accident not contemplated in
the scheme of Providence, who could have
designed no evil ; or if designed, why, then
that the Creator has been less competent to
execute his own plans, than the sect of the
Doctrinarians, who could arrive, it seems,
at the same goal by the stagnant policy of
" Order," that civilization has attained by
the turbulent career of progress.

But, again, what is, in general, to be
considered evil, public or private .? If ev-
ery partial and temporary suffering, then
the medicine that afflicts, the knife that
mutilates to prevent disease or death, and
the patriotism that makes war to protect
right or prevent dishonor, are perpetrators
of evil ; while the pleasure that ends by
killing, and the peace that begins by cor-
rupting are, on the contrary, to be called
good. The public profession and perpetu-
ation of the former practices have, howev-
er, decided differently. The decision is
affirmed by philosophy, which teaches that
all evil is relative. Human language has
named things evil or good, as they affected
the percipient — not as they operate in the
general system. It was this verbal fallacy
that misled the stoics to hold those quali-
ties to have no exterior existence, but are
creations of the mind, and therefore con-
trollable by the will. Viewing them as
mere sentiments, the paradox would have
some truth : but as causes and effects they
certainly have an objective operation. To
ascertain it the sole rosort is, as in all
thiags, to experience. The inductive pro-
cess, in this instance, might be imaged by
the arithmetical rule of subtraction. The
particular facts, whether physical or social,
observed habitually to cause pain, are set
down in a distinct line. The correlative
facts — for there must be always such, eith-
er of action or omission — the correlative
facts observed to produce pleasure are
ranged in a parallel order. In this condi-
tion the two series have the same neutral
character ; they have yet no moral denom-
ination ; they are mere facts — mere fig-
ures. It is in virtue of this community of
character that they neutralize each other
in the process of subtraction, to the extent

1850.]

Democracy in Frmice.

of their numerical equivalence. But the
overplus of either series at once acquires a
denominational value. This differential
value constitutes, in terms of human action,
the real, the essential, the objective test of
"good" or "evil."

If the computation be confined to the
occurrences of individual life, the result
would give not only the portion of positive
happiness or misery in the general sum,
but also the proportions of good and evil
imder each term of the series, in that par-
ticular life. But it would evidently apply
to no other ; for these proportions must va-
ry with each individual in a community,
with each community in an age, with eve-
ry age of a civilization — in fine, with every
l^artial civilization in the complete develop-
ment of the race. The account must
therefore be modified by aggregating the
more particular sums, by extending the
basis of average, by generalizing the moral
residue from step to step of this progres-
sion. Now, at no one of these stages
could the empirical rule — all formed though
it might be upon the soundest experience —
pretend to dictate to any other the law of
evil or good. Hence the endless diversity
of all times and countries, and even classes,
in this respect, which led Montaigne and
other sceptics to doubt a moral rule at all.
Its scientific establishment will rise, at last,
from the chaos, with the supreme general-
ization just suggested. The consumma-
tion will probably shew — as the progres-
sion does in part already — that most things
previously accoxmted evd, were of an op-
posite tendency. Amongst them will be,
we doubt not, the revolutionary spirit of
France. This, the historical calculation
just described, would suffice to settle.
This process, however, we offered but for
the purpose of illustration ; or at most, as
a short method of estnnating large events.
As a means of guaging the quality of ac-
tions, it may prove more or less impracti-
cable ; though it is not the less certainly
the procedure of the general intellect in the
instinctive inductions of moral science.
But with this science we had not the small-
est intention to meddle here, farther than
to show that it gives no countenance, by
either fact or philosophy, to the fundamen-
tal postidate of this book.

But revelation, you may say ; the Bible }
Perhaps the condemnation of war and rev-

olution has been proclaimed or practised in
the inspired volume, which records the ad-
ministration of God himself upon earth }
By no means ; but directly the reverse.
This divine administration had its very
origin and foundation in an act not merely
of rebeUion against a ruler, but also of
robbery from a master. For this would be
the character of the Exode according, wc
mean, to the political philosophy of INI.
Guizot. And as to the subsequent govern-
ment of this " chosen people," it is well-
known to have been the most insubordinate
and blood-stained on the pages of histor3\
We should not have availed ourselves,
however, of this sacred authority, if M.
Guizot was not a professed believer in the
Bible. Not merely this, but he finds some
consolation for the calamity of his times
and country, by inclining to deem it a spe-
cial dispensation of Providence. Indeed,
he approximates, in this conservative piety,
to the high standard of the Bishop of Lon-
don ; he who recently has had the liturgi-
cal front to insult the reason — and we will
venture to say, the God, of the nineteenth
century — by affecting to impute to the
wrath of heaven, the starvation of the Irish
people ; and then, to appease this pretend-
ed wrath, putting the profane prayer of a
politician in the mouth of a nation who
had itself brought about the atrocity thus
charged to the Deity, by trampling for
ages on His laws — economical, physical,
moral, and divine.

Civilization, then, progression, reforma-
tion, revolution, war — these are naturally
conditional of each other in this order.
They cannot, therefore, be accounted evil,
but, on the contrary, good, so far as each
may be really necessary to the accomplish-
ment of the proceeding. To disavow this
concatenation, attested in fact by all his-
tory, is, we repeat, the fundamental per-
versity of Guizofs reasoning. And the
" idolatry of democracy," which he de-
nounces in the present chapter, is but a
consequence of the same salutary civilizing
principle.

Not, however, that the idolatry is salu-
tary itself. It is pregnant, in fact, with
most of the dangers which the author so
well describes, and so wisely deprecates.
But the way to avert these dangers would
be, to explain them as to what they really
are — the natural excesses, the necessary d-

Democracy i?i France.

[Jan.

lusions, incidental to a movement entirely
legitimate in its tendency. Instead of this
equally rational and conciliatory course,
our historian of civilization denies effectu-
ally that any such movement belongs to
the natural system of society ; though much
more manifest at the present day than the
astronomical motion of the earth. And he
not only denounces the notion as no better
than the idolatry of a mere name, but also
stigmatizes the idolaters as irretrievable an-
archists, or dupes. It would be more to
the purpose — alike of peace and progress —
to point them out the true divinity they
grope for ; to interpret them His will, as
laid down in the laws of society. But pei*-
haps M. Guizot is inconsistently philoso-
phical enough to have attempted this in the
ensuing chapter.

Government in a Democracy . No ;
not in this, at least. It begins with exam-
ining the two radical theories of the day.
The one is represented as asking but the
negative condition of no restraint, and be-
lieving that human nature will go right of
itself. The other contends, moreover, for
a reorganization of society, which shall
leave to men's propensities their natural
play, and thus put an end to all occasion
of evil and unhappiness. In the former
will be recognized the doctrines of the ul-
tra democracy, American as well as French.
The latter is the scheme of the Socialists,
especially of the Fourierite section. The
first, says Guizot, do not know man; the
second do not know man, and, moreover,
deny God-
To support this emphatic sentence, to
refute the competency of society to govern
itself, he refers to each one's own con-
sciousness of incapacity to control his con-
duct. But the conclusion thus suggested
is, we must say, an old and bald sophism.
There is no parity between the cases. The
ratio between the elements of wisdom and
of disorder, in the aggregate of citizens in-
dividually, does not remain the same in
even the most radically representative gov-
ernment. On the contrary, it is rather re-
versed— and by the very process of repre-
sentation. The common occasions of dis-
sension being the selfish interests or pas-
sions, are in their nature individual —
antagonistic ; they have thus the eifect of
neutralizing each other in the consolidated
action of the State. The elements of wis-

dom, being intellectual, have the contrary
tendency — to combine and to cumulate
their influences. So far from analogy,
therefore, there is a certain opposition be-
tween the means of self-government in a
society and m each of its citizens.

Nor is this all. It is not, moreover, the
degree of wisdom in the citizens which,
even thus collected and defecated of selfish
discrepancies, determines alone the degree
of wisdom in the government. The latter
is not simply a sum of the former quanti-
ties. Intelligence does not increase in gov-
ernment, any more than elsewhere, by ad-
dition; it increases by classifications, by
quality. It operates not so much by war-
rant, as by order. But this order, in all
cases, must copy the processes of nature.
Now, the intelligence, in proportion as it
is augmented in amount, and until it has
obtained the complete copy we call science,
finds it more and more difficult to keep to
the original pattern, especially in a subject,
like society, of great complexity. Hence
it is that a nation of savages, say twenty
millions numerous (were it possible for
such to act in common at all), would pro-
duce, we have no doubt, a wiser body of
laws, that is to say, one more suitable to
their own sentiments and condition, than
could be prepared for them by all the law-
givers of history together. Nay, wiser,
in the sense defined, than, perhaps, these
legislators would constitute for themselves,
if formed into the community of philoso-
phers imagined by Bajde. The reason was
above indicated. The community of phi-
losophers would be a thing out of nature,
and therefore destitute of her guidance.
Its legislation would, besides, be prompted
less by the social wants than the specula-
tive opinions of the citizens. With the
savages, on the contrary, every suff"rage
would be a legislative fact ; every law, the
strict expression of the aggregate of facts,
in as far as they corroborated each other ;
and the body of the laws, in fine, by the
multiplied conflict of the discrepancies, be
kept down to tlie solid ridge of reality,
utility, simplicity. The former, in short,
would be a government by syllogism. The
latter, a government by induction. But it
is a rule of logic, that the broader the in-
duction, the more multiplied and various the
instances, the f^mrer will be the basis; the
sounder the scientific law. It is precisely the

1850.]

Democracy i?i France.

same in the subject of civil legislation.
The more numerous the citizens and ample
the territory of a republic, the more system-
atic, and even scientific, will be its legisla-
tion ; and also, other things being equal, the
more endm'ing its existence. This was the
reason of supposing the number of savages
so large in the above hypothesis. The
principle would furnish a useful hint to our
citizens at the present moment, both those
who talk insanely of separating the Union,
and those, on the other hand, who foster
the insulating spirit of " States' rights."

The present purpose, however, was to
point out, that human intelligence, hitherto
at least, has been less competent, and has
had less part, for good or evil, in the art of
government, than is commonly thought.
The exclamation of the Swedish chancel-
lor— " with how little wisdom the world is
governed," — might have point as a satire
upon the prevailing pretensions, but was
very superficial as a philosophical reflection.
Society, on the contrary, is governed with
infinite wisdom. But it is the wisdom of
nature, not of man. The latter does but
commit folly as soon as he deviates from
the wisdom of nature, and devises with his
own. And he is liable to deviate in pro-
portion as he is able to devise, until the
presumptuous illusions of his ignorance be
finally dispelled by the systematized expe-
rience termed science. With this happy
advent, the governmental intelligence would
be the humble disciple, the obedient proph-
et of nature, and it matters not whether
an aristocracy or a single sage were to be
constituted its depository. But pending
this social millenium, the best security
against the divagations of its " wisdom,"
or against the despotism of its power, is to
be found in decentralizing the one and the
other, and diffusing them through the mass
of the community. And of course the se-
curity against abuse will augment, and the
positive results be wiser, as above explain-
ed, in proportion to the multitude of the
citizens and the diversification of their in-
terests. Of this double deduction the
whole history of governments is a con-
firmation. Why were the several scores
of republics, enumerated by Aristotle as
having passed away before his time, all in
general so short lived .'' For the very rea-
son which shallow writers continue to as-
sign for the possibility of their existence

at all, namely : that they were so small.
See Rome, on the other hand, all imper-
fect as had been her political organization,
yet holding together for some fifteen cen-
turies, against almost every species of dis-
order and despotism. The eiFcct upon the
legislation is equally attested. Few would
say that the legislative or scientific intelli-
gence of England at the present day is in-
ferior to that of ancient Rome. Yet the
jurisprudence of the latter — though com-
paratively a barbarian people — remains a
model to civilized Europe, while the for-
mer is a standing satire upon the human
intellect. Again, it can not be honestly
pretended, that our own law-makers are
more intelligent than the English ; indeed,
there are few countries where, unfortun-
ately, less attention is paid to principles in
the formation of the laws. Yet we have
already licked the common law cub into
tolerable shape, and the general body of
our positive legislation is not destitute of
soundness and even system. The solution
is, that Rome was, like ourselves, a repub-
lic, and a republic composed of many and
different populations, covering a territory
proportionably ample and diversified.
England, an aristocracy, cooped up within
a narrow island, and ruling her thousand
colonies by the elect and insular " wisdom
of the nation." It was this that caused
the difference of result, not the difference
or degree of intelligence, which went for
nothing in the circumstances. Rome, in
extending her citizenship and laws to her
subject communities, as we do to our new
States, had no more design of any philos-
ophic symmetry than the bee has a notion
of geometry in the construction of its hex-
agonal cells. But in order to gain uniform-
ity, the differences of circumstance were
progressively discarded, and the mechani-
cal result was an approximation in the civil
code to the comprehensiveness and con-
gruity of science. The process of Eng-
land was quite the reverse. Instead of
stretching and straightening her legislation
to embrace the provinces ; instead of prop-
agating it by the layers of representation,
she sought to graft her dependencies, how-
ever exotic, on the indigenous stock of the
metropolitan system, and this system,
moreover, the production of a mere oligar-
chy of what M. Guizot styles, in one of
his axioms, les autorites legitimes.

Democracy in France.

[Jan.

It is against the principle of this axiom,
the political system of its author, that this
long exposition has been chiefly directed ;
the reader will judge with what efi'ect.
M. Guizot concludes against the Demo-
crats, by calling their " sufficiency of Lib-
erty" tenet, an "error of pride." From
the preceding may not we in turn conclude
against the Doctrinarians, that their '■'' suf-
jiciency of Intellect involves more pride
and no less error.

But all in refuting its assailant, we can
not side, the reader sees, with the demo-
cratic theory, at least as generally under-
stood. Indeed, the principles that served
to condemn or correct the one extrava-
gance, will apply alike to the correction of
the other, although opposite. An ampli-
tude of explanation, which is no bad test
of their trxith. And as the rectification of
the democratic error seems to touch our
own politics, more immediately and vitally,
it will be well worth a few moment's atten-
tion.

In remonstrating against the regulative
arrogance of intellect it is above remarked,
that the degree of wisdom or intelligence
in a representative government is not an
addition of the aggregate items of intelli-
gence in the represented ; it is only a class-
ification of them, to which the numerical
majority imparts the type. No one intel-
ligence, the sentiments of no particular
individual or class of individuals, is ad-
mitted entirely, and none is entirely
excluded. All are represented, but in
their points of common contact express or
implied ; the discrepancies of individuality
being eliminated by the process of suffrage.

Now this is precisely the theory, too,
of what we term the "sovereign will,"
which is the idol of American democracy,
as democracy is, according to M. Guizot,
the idol of hitherto monarchical France.
As the individual intelligences do not tell
directly or integrally in the deliberation of
government, so neither can the individual
wills in its determination. In the first
place, the sovereign will is not the will of
the majority, it is the will of the whole
people, generalized vipon the simplest cri-
terion of number. And here we see the
real guaranty of the rights of minorities,
who, though out-voted, are not the less rep-
resented, to the extent of their common
interests and substantial agreement, with

the majority. But so far from this general
will being made up of the wills of all or a
majority of the citizens individually ^ it is
only, we see, by rejection of all that is in-
dividual in each of the popular wills, that
the " sovereign" will can have effect or
even existence. This is the profound pro-
cess which has been provided in the order
of nature for the government of society,
as well as the development of science.
There is only one thing which the people
can — and do in fact — will in this aggregate
capacity, and this, because the enactment
is artificial. It is, that a certain number
and quality of persons (who, by hypothe-
sis, are placed above the individuating in-
fluences of selfishness), be taken as the
exponents, the representatives, not of the
popular will, but of that abstract or induc-
tion of it in which the sovereign right to
rule is pretended to reside. That is to
say, they can adopt a constitution.

We use the word pretended purposely,
for the thing is, even in this form, but a
pretension, a fiction. The rigJit of gov-
ernment resides no more in the will of the
multitude, general or coUeetive, than it
does in the intelligence of an aristocracy,
or the brute force of the despot. These
have all been but the transitive substitutes
and practical signs, more or less imperfect,
of the right, which consisted itself, through-
out, in the natural laws of the social sys-
tem. The end of these laws being the
aggregate happiness of the society, and the
means of happiness being the gratification
of wants and desires, according to the pro-
visions of nature for that purpose, the
problem of all government was to ascer-
tain what these provisions are, and its
legitimacy was proportionate to its superior
competency for that task. First came the
priests, who knew all about these provis-
ions from the lips of God himself, and who
conveyed in process of time, for execution,
to a single despot, this their commission,
ander the well known title of the " divine
right" of kings. In opposition to the test
of Revelation was, long after, set up the
right of Reason, which assumes, however,
in the hands of the doctrinarians, the
character rather of dictator than of direc-
tor. The principle of representation takes
an intermediate course. Like the others,
this, too, has had its idle pretensions,
which have been just exposed. But its

1850.]

Democracy in France.

real import stamps it as the first step of
humanity in the inductive exploration of
the science of government, of the laws of
society. For as human happiness is the
efi"ect of these laws, and human feelings a
constituent element of happiness, and every
man the best witness to the state of his own
feelings if not interests : it follows uecessa-
rily, that a universal suffrage, when sifted
of its discrepancies by generalization, is the
best attainable evidence of the laws of so-
ciety, pending their absolute establishment
into a science. Intellect, indeed, might,
in the latter consummation, pretend to the
prerogative of having learned the science
of government more thoroughly than the
multitude. But as long as it can only di-
vine, or deduce, its doctrines from insuffi-
cient premises, it will be sounder and safer
to have recource to the facts themselves,
that is to say, to the feelings of the gov-
erned, which are so many positive elements
of the problem. Nor is the representa-
tive form of government to be preferred
for its provisional superiority alone, but
especially for its procreative tendency to
the elaboration of social science. A ten-
dency which has now acquired an irresisti-
ble hnpetus in the revolutionary spirit of
Europe. An elaboration which is already
far advanced in our own country, and
which we may have the unexampled glory
of consummating, if we only learn to com-
prehend the peculiarity of our own advan-
tages and situation.

These last reflections will suggest our mo-
tive for dwelling so long upon them, which
is besides the principal topic of the book.
The line of distinction established would,
if understood upon both hands, reduce the
European contest between Order and Pro-
gress to a positive and pacific formula.
Prescriptive pretensions of all sorts, divine
or dynastic, being put aside, and all the
parties agreed that the scientific laws of
society ought to govern, the question would
be : " What are these laws in general "t
and then, what is the best practical crite-
rion by which to determine their applica-
bility in particular cases .' Let us discuss V
And thus would the zeal of the combatants,
literary and legislative, expend itself in the
lofty competition of reason ; instead of
hounding on the multitude, — the one party
by denying it all citizenship, and the other
by claiming for it the sole sovereignity —

into a hideous and brutally depraving
scramble for bread. The explanation
would also solve some knots in our own
politics, past, present, and prospective.
Postponing the latter two, we take a single
instance from the past, where the principle
may bs confronted with experience. It
will be the most recent and remarkable one
of the famous Dorr rebellion.

The Constitution set up by Dorr, had
been voted by a majority of the citizens of
the State. The /aciJ was not controverted,
nor was the bill-principle of right called
in question. Whh the premises thus both
allowed, how refuse the conclusion, how
reject the Constitution "t In truth the thing
was logically impossible. But then the
conclusion was seen to involve the absurdi-
ty of admitting, that the right to govern,
which existed, by investiture of the whole
people, a moment before in the established
authorities, was at once transformed into a
wrong in them, and the right appropriated
against their consent, by a numerical plu-
rality professing quite opposite politics ;
and all this by means of the thimble-rig-
gery of a mere act of volition. This was
the dilemma which occasioned the long hesi-
tations and dissenting " opinions" of the
Supreme Court Judges on the appellate
trials which resulted from this movement.
It was also no doubt the cause of the ap-
parent inconsistency which some of the
papers pointed out at the time, in the great
argmnent of Mr. Webster, the chief coun-
sel opposed to Dorr. His clear and solid
understanding could not fail to be shocked
at the profligate consequence alluded to in
the conclusion. But instead of tracing the
vice to the premises, instead of exposing
the misconception above explained respect-
ing the nature of the sovereign Will and
Right, he fell back (lawyer-like enough)
upon a question oi form. Conceiving that
Dorr may have the majority, he denied it
to be valid, as not having been taken ac-
cording to certain forms prescribed in the
previous constitution ; but was abundant
to reply : " You admit that the majority
does efiectually exist, and that the majori-
ty may, by willing it, change the govern-
ment to what/orw and ivhen they please ;
by what paramount authority do you pre-
tend to regulate the liow 1 It cannot be
by anything in the old constitution, which,
by the hypothesis, was already superseded

Democracy in France.

[Jan*

down to its most fundamental prescriptions.
Or would you have the form to be more ir-
reversible than the substance ? The ac-
cessory not to follow the principal ? The
greater not to imply the incalculably less ?"
In fact this position of Mr. Webster was
utterly vintenable. The true one would
have been, that there was not a majority
such as to constitute the general will ; the
minority in this case not having voted at
all. This would have answered the tech-
nical purposes of the cause. But there
was still behind a stronger barrier to op-
pose to those wild pretensions. It was,
that the general will itself is not a princi-
ple, but instrument ; does not constitute
the right to govern, but only the provision-
al test or title.

In fine, as this right is seen to consist
neither in the superior intelligence of the
doctrinarian, nor in the sovereign will of
the democrats, we would probably be ex-
cused from going on to prove the like er-
rors respecting the organization of the so-
cialists. But as this is well disposed of
hereafter by Guizot himself, we hasten to
the following chapter.

The Democratic RepuMic. — For this
form of government the author avows great
respect. But will it be able in France to
establish that which he conceives the su-
preme want of society, namely, " social
peace," governmental "order.?" He
thinks not. And this augury is drawn in
large part from the solicitude of his coun-
trymen to baptize the new republic with
the addition of " democratic :" so that
to M. Guizot there is something in a name.
The United States, he alleges, are the mo-
del of democracy ; yet they do not dream
of styling themselves " democratic repub-
licans." M. Guizot knows that epithets
are not employed by men of sense without
something to designate. At the foundation
of the American government, there were
as yet no specific shades of republic, demo-
cratic, social, or others. To the minds of
that day, the term imported the largest de-
velopment of liberty ; just as it did even
in antiquity to the Romans and Greeks,
though then including neither universal
suifrage nor the representative system.
The title of democratic would then have
been nonsense in the American republic of
'76. For the same cause it was not em-
ployed by the French in their first republic.

though considerably posterior in origin.
From either of the cases there is, therefore,
no argument to the present condition of
things in France ; where political swindlers,
served by philosophic pedants, have taught
the people to distinguish between a repub-
lic in name, and a democracy, and even
between a democracy in form and a de-
mocracy in reality. We are not to despair
then, but quite the contrary, of men who
learn from experience, and who are care-
ful as they progress, to throw up the en-
trenchment of a term, to the end of de-
fending or demarkatino; the remotest limits
of their acquisition.

But this, says Guizot, is a state of strife
between aristocracy and democracy, and
there was nothing of the kind in the Uni-
ted States. It is true, there were no class
divisions among the American colonists,
and also true that this may account for
their omission of the title "democratic."
But this explanation of the author himself
does completely away with his inference of
condemnation drawn from the American,
against the French republic. For if the
cause of the democratic animus be absent
in the one case and present in the other, it
is not logical to compare them, to the re-
proach of the latter for exhibiting the ef-
fect, for adopting the appellation. But
faulty logic is not often among the errors
of M. Guizot. In this instance, accord-
ingly, his real meaning — but which is in-
sinuated rather than expressed — is this :
That the existence of the cause, of the
class strife in question, precludes the prac-
ticability of the republic ; and that the
success of this form of government in the
United States, is but what the Russian
Alexander described — a beneficent despot
— merely a "fortunate accident." An-
other example of what we have above al-
leged respecting his conception of govern-
ment and society.

It is not necessary, after what has been
already shown of that strange wrong-head-
edness of tins conception, to stop to dis-
cuss it in the present manifestation. Eve-
ry tyro in history knows that, on the con-
trary, this internal contention of classes
has been, all the world over, the beneficent
means of progressively adapting the form
of government to the civic growth of the
governed ; even as the exterior strife among
nations has been the propagator of civiliza-

1850.]

Democracy in France.

tion : for the principle, — stall we not say
the providence ? — has been the same in both
the cases, only expanded into larger circles
of operation. Even in our own country,
which the author deems a model republic,
the progress of civility is fast developing
the every sentiments and symbols which he
regards as so ominous to France. For it
is, after all, not true, that the "Americans
have never thought of calling themselves
democratic republicans." They only had
not done so officially, and at the outset, for
the reason explained. But subsequently
the contrary has come, our readers know,
to be the truth. Of one of the two great
parties, the term in question is the appro-
priate designation. And the other, or ra-
ther a certain section of it, was seen not
long since to usurp this very catchword
which M. Guizot gives us the credit of
disclaiming, by surnaming themselves not
merely democratic reptiblicans^ but the
odder amalgam of " Democratic Whigs."
Socialist Repuhlic. — The reformers of
this class are introduced as pleading for
their peculiar idea on the ground of its be-
ing alone untried and new. The author
denies it to be cither. It is as old, he says,
as the world, and has been tested by the
fanatics of all sorts, religious, social, phi-
losophical, Oriental, Hellenic, Mediseval.
But the comparison is grossly dishonest or
superficial. At none of the epochs, in
none of the forms, has fanatic, or philoso-
pher, or christian, ever hitherto conceived
the idea which is the distinctive character-
istic of the Socialists, namely, the idea of
social organization upon tJie basis of na-
tural laws. What the Hussites of Ger-
many, and the Roundheads of England,
the Adamites of the middle ages, and even
the early christians, all contemplated, was a
mere negation of the public authorities and
general modes of life, and the privilege of
living, and of regulating their community
after their own more or less whimsical fan-
cies. What the Socialists profess to seek
is quite the opposite of this ascetic frenzy.
They do not fly society ; they only refuse
it in its present form, and to the end of
reconstructing it upon a better ; and above
all, this reconstruction they do not pretend
to fashion after the suggestions of a crazy
conscience, or the indecent perversions of
the Bible, but simply to conform to the ex-
perimental laws of the subject. This con-

formation of political institutions to the
physiology of the social system is the im-
port of their rally ing-word of " organiza-
tion," and certainly this is an idea both
new and untried. It is in fact the true
idea of a science of society.

So far indeed from being a repetition of
the licentious ebullitions referred to by Gui-
zot, socialism is the result — the aggregate
because the latest result — of all the public
reformers of the past. For these reforms
have always proceeded in a consequential
series. The evil to be remedied was as-
cribed to a succession of agencies progres-
sively less obvious and more real — to ad-
verse gods, to tyrannical rulers, to obnox-
ious names, to governmental forms, to
civil institutions, &c. : it was only through
the elimination of these partial or imagina-
ry causes that the human mind could have
reached the conception of looking at last
for the remedy, the social panacea, in the
most fundamental and complex term of the
reformatory progression, the organic con-
stitution of society. So necessary indeed,
was this orderly development, in the midst
of apparent disorder, that we take no cre-
dit to ourselves in having predicted the
very result herein question, concerning the
late revolution in France. Several months
before that event was dreamt of, the pres-
ent writer intimated in this Journal,* that
the character, or at least the cry of the
then ensuing republic, would infallibly be
Socialist. To Guizot, however, the event
is as lawless as a comet to an ancient as-
tronomer. Another proof that he misap-
prehends the history of humanity, as well
as the ideas of the Socialists. Indeed, it
is quite ludicrous to hear him betray his
own speculation upon the latter. Confound-
ing them still with the follies above men-
tioned, " these ideas, he proceeds, had
hitherto presented themselves but upon a
small scale, obscurely, bashfully, and hoot-
ed almost as soon as seen. Now they
mount the public stage ^ and display them-
selves in the fill latitude of their preten-
sions.'''' So much for the recognition of
the fact : hear now the speculation :
" Whether this has come to pass through
the native force of these ideas, or through
the fault of the public, or from causes in-

* October, 1847. Art. : The Inductive Theo-
ry of Civilization. ■ , ■ - •

Democracy in Frayice.

[Jan.

lierent in the natural state of society , is of
LITTLE CONSEQUENCE. (!) SincB the So-
cialist republic speaks out, it must be
looked in the face and interrogated tho-
roughly."

Thus far it was demanded by truth that
we should render justice to the Socialists,
in ridding their fundamental theory of the
misrepresentations of the author. But this
is all, we believe, that truth will demand
in their behalf. They profess, at least, to
appeal to the natural laws of society ;
whereas their assailant appeals to nothing-
less arbitrary than the despotic ukases of
Russia, or the traditional usasfes of Ens;-
land. But, as to their interpretation of those
laws, the Socialists are, we fear, almost as
perverse on the side of progress as their
antagonist is himself on that of order. For
instance, they do not recognize — the Com-
munist branch at least — as amongst the na-
tural arrangements of society, the institu-
tions of property or of marriage ; which,
however, are assuredly its two fundamental
elements. We must, therefore, here aban-
don them to the cat-o'-nine-tails of the aus-
tere ex-professor. And his dialectic eas-
tigation makes the best chapter in the
book.

We pass to the next, which treats of the
Essential Elements of Society in France.
These are well enumerated, as follows :
" The family ; property, in all its kinds —
land, capital, or wages ; labor, in all its
forms, individual or collective, intellectual
or manual ; the situations and mutual re-
lations established among men in conse-
quence of these institutions of family, pro-
perty, and labor." This is the analysis of
the civil code of all countries, as well as
France. The fact, says the author, which
characterizes the civil condition of the lat-
ter country, is a " perfect unity of the laws
and equality of rights. All classes of
men, all species of property, all depart-
ments of labor, are regulated by the same
laws, and possess or confer the same civU
rights. No privileges — that is to say, no
laws or civil rights peculiar to this or that
family ; this or that form of property ; this
or that mode of labor. It is a new and an
immense fact in the history of human so-
cieties." Here we might retort a thousand
things — such as, how this great fact was
brought to pass .? Was it by maintaining
the policy of " order .?" But, we accept it

as excellent in itself, and only add a single
remark. It is, that our country shares
this glory in an equal degree with France,
in all except the two following particulars :
our civil laws are sufficiently far from a
" perfect unity," and they do not recog-
nize property ; they do not protect labor
in the most valuable and elevated of its
departments — that of intellect. These, it
must be owned, are serious and shameful
exceptions.

But amid this universal unity and equal-
ity before the law, there are, the author
proceeds to remark, certain diversities and
inequalities of condition, not to be cured
by that unity. Of these there are, in fact,
two obvious sources : one, in the natural
differences of capacity in man ; the other,
in the accidental differences of opportunity
into which men may be born in particular
places or times. But these classes of in-
fluence may be said indeed to be accident-
al ; and it might be argued to be the busi-
ness of society to counteract and correct
their malignant influences. This is, in
fact, the associative spirit of the present
age ; which tends to make society a sort of
insurance company against misery as well
as misfortune. But then there is a law of
subordination which, as Guizot rightly in-
sists, the equalization can never infringe
with impunity. This fundamental grada-
tion of society he distributes, with the po-
litical economists, into,

" 1. Men living by the income of their
properties, landed or personal, without
seeking to increase the latter by their own
labor ;

" 2. Men who apply themselves to work-
ing, and augmenting, by their own labor,
the property of all sorts in their posses-
sion ;

" 3. Men living by their labor, without
capital or land."

That this is a correct and a complete
analysis of the social situations of mankind
in all the communities of the past, may be
as the author contends, quite true, and is,
no doubt, substantially so. But that this
triple division must be a type to the indefi-
nite future, is a proposition which we do
not hesitate to deny, as a consequence ;
and cannot quite assent to as a probability,
without an extent of explanation which our
limits will not now permit us. At the same
time, however, we entirely agree as to the

1850.]

Democracy in France.

second series of diversity which M. Guizot
well points out in the subjects themselves
of property and labor, and which are un-
doubtedly founded in the progressive order
of things.

The Political Eleincnts of French So-
ciety. Here, too, there is a diversity in
equality. These political divisions, how-
ever, are not parties.^ properly speaking.
There can be tolerated but two parties —
the government, and opposition — in a re-
public ; and a republic, M. Guizot scrupu-
lously concedes, to be the actual form of
government in France. But the sects of
opinion in question are not the less essen-
tial or obstructive for being rather of a so-
cial than a partizan character. The first
enumerated is the Legitimist, which rep-
resents not only the ancient monarchy and
dynasty, but also certain other remnants of
the old feudal society ; such, for instance,
as the church, and the parti pretre. The
Legitimists, in truth, ai-e held together by
sentiments and prejudices ; a poor prop in
these hard days of reality and ratiocina-
tion. Next comes the bourgeoise or " mid-
dle-class" party. It represents the consti-
tutional monarchy of Louis Philippe and
M. Guizot himself, who, both, no doubt
think a return to it to be the final destiny
and sole salvation of France. In fact the
burgess body is the party of material inter-
ests ; a principle somewhat more vivacious
than poetic reminiscences, and which, ac-
cordingly, holds the Socialists at present at
bay. As to the latter — who, according to M.
Guizot, constitute the third and last of the
"political elements" of France, and re-
pose upon the multitude — he will not allow
them to have any fixed tenets at all.
Their principle of union is the destruction
of every thing established. The appella-
tion that befits them is, the " party of an-
archy." But this is an angry, and, as al-
ready shown, an erroneous judgment. In
fact, of all the parties mentioned, they
alone have any doctrines, in the strict sense
of the term. What many of their doc-
trines may be we have left M. Guizot to
wreak his relentless analysis in exposing.
But we must insist that the doctrines are
professed, and that while the other two are,
as we have described them, the parties of
prejudices and interests^ the Socialists
ought to be designated the party of ideas.
Be this as it may, it is only by recognizing

those diversities of political sentiment that
social order and permanent government
can, in our author's opinion, be established
in Franco. How is this to be done.''

What are the Conditions 1 — M. Gui-
zot answers, by constituting a correspond-
ing diversity of powers in the State. The
unity or one-chamber principle of the pres-
ent French constitution, he thinks to be no
better than a popular form of despotism.
He contends, we have shown how rightly,
that a people is not a simple aggi-egation
of individuals, but an organic body, and
that organization supposes gradation. He
admits, on the other hand, that a State
should not be a confederacy of classes,
professions, opinions, claiming each a dis-
tinct and special representation in the gov-
ernment. The arrangement ought to be
something between these opposite extremes.
This something is supplied, it seems, by a
process of amalgamation, and concentra-
tion which is operated quite spontaneously
between the various classes, professions,
&c., and which ends by reducmg this mul-
titude of particular elements to a " small
number that are principal and fundamen-
tal." But why this grand internal opera-
tion of nature, — of which Guizot makes
ordinarily so little account — why this pro-
gressive progress of social assimilation,
should " end" with this " small number,"
he does not take the pains to prove, although
combating a constitution that discards the
doctrine utterly. He does not even name
the actual number. Not that he was here
at any loss, you may be sure. He only
shrunk, no doubt, from the perspective of
that shrug of derision so peculiar to his
countrymen, were he to recommend them
in terms the venerable trio of king, lords,
and commons, of his constitutional mon-
archy. In this triple diversity of inde-
pendent and ever antagonistic powers con-
sists, he, however, ends by declaring, the
practicability of government in France,
and its perfection the world over, to the
end of time.

It is hardly necessary to note that the
author here, as throughout the book, takes
a special situation of facts, or stage of so-
cial development, for a general system of
principles. He extends an empu-ical as-
pect of government into its normal and
natural organization. In short, he ignores,
we repeat, all science as well as all prog-

Democracy in France.

[Jan.

ress in the subject. This he nowhere be-
trays more signally than in the tenet just
described of the famous " balance of pow-
ers." For is not the " order," which
Guizot makes the prime end of all govern-
ment, precluded, in the very terms, by this
co-e(.|uality and contention of powers .''
How, moreover, can the same strife be
now so salutary among the branches of the
government, which was a while ago pro-
nounced so fatal among the classes of the
citizens } But the " order" which Guizot
contemplates is not the order of science
which implies subordination and harmony,
but the order of equipoise, which asks only
brute force. Accordingly, he goes on to
tell us, that the " practice of seeking guar-
antees against the abuse of power, by
makinsc it weak, is an enormous error.
For every weak power is a power condemn-
ed to death or to usurpation. What," he
asks, "has made the force and the fortune
of the constitutional monarchy of Eng-
land.^" Aye, there the idol of Guizot is
unveiled half-covertly at last ! It is the
empirical example of England ; not the in-
ductions of general history ; not the laws
of social science. Let us hear, however,
from this fifteenth successor of Fortesque
and Blackstone, what it is that constitutes
the pretended preeminence of the British
constitution, and how far it confirms the
condemnation just denounced. The secret
so often said and sung, is this : — " The
English crown and aristocracy were power-
ful from the first^ and the Commons are
become powerful by conquering successive-
ly from the aristocracy and the crown^ the
rights which they at present enjoy. Of
these three constitutional powers two con-
tinue strong and rest upon deep lying roots ;
the third has hecome strong and taken
deep root by degrees. All are capable of
defending themselves from the encroach-
ments of the others, and of fulfilling each its
own mission."

Now, potent upon the face of this oft-
told tale, there lie many things to tempt
remark. For example, was the English
crown powerful in the days of King John
and Magna Charta, when it succumbed to
the aristocracy } VVas the aristocracy pow-
erful, in turn, under Henry VIII. and Eliz-
abeth } Did the Commons commence the
conquest of their present rights "from the
aristocracy," and not, on the contrary,

from the monarchy, by beheading one and
banishing another of the Stewart dynasty .'
And is not the contest with the aristocracy
in progress, accordingly, at the present
hour, while the crown is but a cypher signi-
fying nothing by itself } If these strictures
be just, it will be seen that the powers in
question, instead of presenting a " bal-
ance" or equipoise, have always, in fact,
alternated in a transitive subordination.
Thus much for the doctrine of this bal-
ance of the three powers as accounting for
the duration of the English monarchy.
But the inconsistency of the doctor is still
a grosser oversight. How, it is obvious to
ask, did the Commons conquer their power
by " degrees," and from weak beginnings,
in the face of the dogma just laid down,
that " every weak power is a power doomed
to annihilation or usurpation V Again,
ought not this single fact of the rise to
power of the " poor Commons," (as they
whiningly styled themselves) have shown
him the futility in practice, as well as the
falsehood in history, of this pretended bal-
ance } Ought it not to have suggested
that there must be some great natural and
expansive energy at will in society itself,
which could thus at once supply and su-
persede its protection } Especially ought
it to have done so, in fact, with a man, who
not only recognizes the conquered aggran-
dizement, still incomplete, of the English
Commons, but who saw the principle car-
ried much farther by the fiercer democracy
of his own country. He could not have
forgotten that the tiers etats., who were
dug, so to say, out of the earth by the
pamphlet of Sieyes, in a few years swept
away successively the monarchy and the
aristocracy of privilege, and are battering
now, with vigor unabated, the kitchen
aristocracy of wealth. Or is it only the
crown and the aristocracy that nature may
have left in want of this political " bal-
ance" to uphold them .'' Very possibly.

In any other sense than this, in fine, we
must conclude it no better than a chimera
begot by politics upon pedantry. JVo such
balance ever really existed in England or
elsewhere. And for the conclusive reason,
that the thing is as incompatible with the
idea of organization in the social body, as
would the severance of the nervous, the
muscular, and the alimentary systems be
with the continued subsistence of the indi-

1850.]

Democracy in France.

vidual. This organic unity must have al-
ways and every, then existed, either vir-
tually or institutionally. In England and
wherever, there is no written constitution,
it appears in the predominance of one or
other of the powers for the time ; a pre-
dominance which we have just exemplified
in the remarks upon the last citation from
the author. In our government, and the
French, for example, this principle of uni-
ty is the constitution, because it is presum-
ed a transcript, more or less imperfect, of
the natural laws of the social system.

We feel a clinging necessity of justify-
ing over and over our imputations of sci-
entific ignorance against a man of the real
ability and reputed eminence of Guizot.
The fact, however, has been submitted to
the reader in numerous instances, and last
of all the monster one of the " balance of
power," which he would have his country-
men substitute for the organic unity of their
present constitution. But what is perhaps
stiU more decisive of this singular perverse-
ness is, that he now tui'us round and taunts
them with having introduced in another
form the very principle of distribution
which they repudiate in this. For " they
have been careful, says he, to separate the
legislative, the judicial and the executive
powers. How, he exclaims, do they not
see that the necessity mounts much higher,
and that the diversity of the general inter-
ests of society and of the duties of the
sovereign, demands imperatively a diversi-
ty of powers at the summit of the State^
as a division of powers in the secondary
regions of the government.^" Here are
manifestly confounded the synergic princi-
ple of Organization, and the energic prin-
ciple of Function. It is overlooked that
there is a natural and necessary series in
the State as in the individual, between the
operations of ordaining, of interpreting,
and of executing. No two of these ac-
tions can be performed by the same agent
at the same time, nor in the same import
at different times. Here, therefore, the
severalty and separation are essential, in-
dispensable. Of the functions, on the
contrary, there is no one that does not im-
ply, successively, the concurrence of the
entire organic system, whether in an indi-
vidual or government. Even the mis-
shapen system of the British Constitution
requii-es this co-operation of king, lords

and commons, in every act of legislation,
and the theory is that they are represented
also in the judicial and executive functions.
Moral Conditions of social quiet in
France. — But were his " political organi-
zation" of powers, all the author mistakes
it for, there would still, he says, be neces-
sary, certain other conditions of a moral
nature. These are the family spirit, the
political spirit, and the religious spi-
rit. The family is undoubtedly not
only the premordial unit, but the perpetual
primary school of the State. It is the pro-
per nursery of those sentiments of affec-
tion, disinterestedness, self-denial and de-
votedness, which, shaped by education and
solidified by principle, form the virtues that
support and adorn the edifice of public
life. Where the former is neglected, the
latter can scarce exist ; at least as the vig-
orous growth of a lofty morality, and not
the sickly exotics of an interested calcula-
tion. That there is much to mend in this
particular in France, we have no doubt ;
but we are quite sure there is still more to
mend in the same quarter elsewhere.

In the beneficial effects of the political
spirit, we cannot so freely assent with the
author. In the first place this spirit must
prevail to some extent at the expense of
the family virtues. And if the latter be,
as they assuredly are, a preeminent good,
the influence that should counteract them
could hardly be classed in the same com-
mendable category. Besides it is matter
of every-day observation that the habits of
political life tend to blunt the moral sensi-
bilities, and even to deprave the character.
Look at the more thorough-paced of the
class in our own country. Who is there
simple enough to expect from what is term-
ed a " trading politician," the observance
of a single article of the decalogue, where
he was not influenced by the hope of of-
fice, or the fear of exposure } We speak
not of the drudges only. Turn to many of
those who put up for being leaders, and are
persons of ordinary integrity in the rela-
tions of civil life. Yet look into that
parchment, callous, cadaverous face ; the
indecision alike of attitude, of opinion,
and of language ; and above all, the
vague, winking, wall-eyed expression of
the gaze. There is not a man with a soul
in his bosom that does not meet that
reptile countenance with something of the

Democracy in France.

[Jan.

strange commingling of the curious and the
hideous, inspired by the contemplation of a
living viper, or a human corpse. The expla-
nation probably is, that the man, or rather
the " politician" is in fact a moral corpse.
This is not a training therefore, to be great-
ly coveted in itself. Nor is it possible to
combine it, as Guizot imagines, with the
cultivation of the family spirit. On the con-
trary we should think that this cultivation
is principally demanded and providentially
destined to prepare against the demoraliz-
ing eifects of the political spirit.

It is only in the region of the under-
standing that this spirit may possibly be
beneficial. Here alone it is, accordingly,
that the author, without noting this essen-
tial distinction, proceeds to a specification
of its civic consequences. " The political
spirit rises naturally, through wisdom, if
not morality, to that which is its funda-
mental law and essential merit, namely, to
respect for justice, the sole basis of social
stability ; for beyond justice there is but
force, which is essentially variable and pre-
carious. And respect for justice supposes
or generates respect for the laws, the ha-
bitual fountain of justice. And respect
for the laws strengthens the respect for the
authorities, who make or who apply them."
(p. 143.) And this little social writer
proceeds, in the first concoction, he tells
us, from the " habit of seeing only what is
and as it is;" which constitutes his prime
characteristic of the political spirit. We
will only add that as M. Guizot may be
" guessed" to be his own exemplar of this
faculty of attending to the actual, in dis-
regard of the future and the past, the doc-
trine here propounded would go far of it-
self to reconcile to his high but perverted
intellectual powers the almost peurile tis-
sue of error and inconsistency which we
have been unwinding through his book.

As to the third and religious spirit, we
can do no better, after the eloquent and even
unctuous descant of our author, than to say
as did his burgess colleague to the hustings
speech of Burke : we say ditto to M. Gui-

zot. And in this assent is included the
following pregnant antithesis : "If Com-
munism and Socialism were to prevail, the
Christian creed would perish. If the belief
in Christianity were more genuine. Com-
munism and Socialism would be soon but
obscene follies." (p. 132).

The author concludes a respectable, be-
cause sincere, however erroneous exhorta-
tion to his countrymen to forsake the idol
of democracy, and combine all that remains
sound of interest and opinion in the state
in formation of a government after the
fashion he has thus dehneated. The po-
litical philosophy of his plan, which we
have endeavored to present in its true light
to the reader, is maintained to the last, and
quite qualis ah incejyto. " We have,"
says he, " tried all things, a republic, an
empire, a constitutional monarchy. We
recommence our experiments. What are
we to blame for their failure .'' In our own
days, under our eyes, in three of the great-
est nations of the world, these three same
governments, constitutional monarchy in
England, the empire in Russia, the repub-
lic in North America, endure and prosper.
Aurions-nous le privilege de toutes les im-
possibilites V p. 1-34. Here is first the
social anachronism of counting the present
French constitution a mere repetition of
those of '93. But this uniform inadver-
tence to the social progression of civiliza-
tion and its constant correlation to the
form of government is still more stolidly
declared in the concluding interrogatory.
M. Guizot seems to have no notion why
the institutions that suit England, or Amer-
ica, or even Russia, should not be adapted
to France as well. He does not dream,
that freemen, or even the philosophers of
Paris ought not to be content to be gov-
erned like the Cossacks of Siberia.

We had intended to close with some
practical inferences from the preceding se-
ries of discussions. But want of space
compels us to leave the moral to the me-
ditation of the studious reader.

., . 0.

1850.]

M'lle de La

Seigliere.

M'LLE DE LA SEIGLIERE

f Continued from fage 609,^

CHAPTER X.

Since liis interview witli the abomina-
He Des Tournelles, the Marquis could
neither eat, drink, nor sleep, though up to
this time, thanks to the natural heedless-
ness of his character and his disposition to
look only on the bright side of things, he
had cherished some degree of hope and
entertained some illusions. For some time,
indeed, previous to this interview, there
had been a gradual falling oiF in his usual
buoyancy of spirits. Those piquant sal-
lies, and crazy projects, which afforded so
much entertainment, were gradually be-
coming less and less frequent ; stUl he seem-
ed occasionally to recover his former vivaci-
ty, and would now and then return to the
whimsical petulance of his natural good na-
ture. He was a wounded butterfly, but still
fluttering, when, under pretext of helping
him out of difficulty, the heartless juriscon-
sult, delicately seizing huu between his fin-
gers, impaled him alive on the brazen rod of
reality. Henceforward the martyrdom of
the Marquis was altogether new in his ex-
perience. What would become of him .?
What should he do } If pride counselled
him to retreat with a high head, selfishness
was of a contrary opinion ; and if pride
backed up its proposition with good rea-
sons, selfishness had an abimdance at hand
quite as good if not better. The Marquis
was getting old ; the gout was slowly but
surely creeping upon him ; five and twenty
years of exUe and privation had cured him
of the heroic escapades and chivalric dreams
of his youth. His somewhat familiar ac-
quaintance with poverty had by no means
increased its attractions ; he felt his blood
curdle in his veins at the very thought of
that pale and sorrowful countenance which
had sat at his table and by his fireside for
twenty-five years. Moreover, although
there was no one whom he loved better

VOL. V. NO. I. NEW SERIES.

than himself, he adored his daughter, and
he was pained at the prospect that that
beautiful creature, after having become ac-
customed to luxury and ease, must again
return to that cold and sombre atmosphere
which enveloped her cradle. He hesitated.
There is more than one, who, under like
circumstances, would have looked twice
before deciding, without the excuse of an
adored daughter, and the fear of the
gout. Yet what was he to do } Which-
ever way he turned, M. de La Seig-
liere saw only ruin and disgrace. Madame
de Vaubert, who now uniformly responded
to all his questions in the same way — We
must wait and see — was far from affording
him any assurance, and he secretly wished
that his noble friend had given the same ad-
vice six months before, as to the very ignoble
part which they had both been playing. On
the other hand, the new attitude which Ber-
nard had recently assumed, filled the Mar-
quis with fear. Since Helen no longer lent
them the charm of her presence, the days
had drawn sadly and slowly, and the eve-
ings more sadly still.

In the morning, after breakfast, when
M'Ue de La Seigliere had ceased to ap-
pear, Bernard, leaving the Marquis to his
reflections, mounted his horse and was not
seen again till evening, when he returned
more taciturn, cloudy, and forbidding, than
he had departed. In the evening, after
dinner, Helen almost immediately retired
to her chamber, leaving Bernard alone in
the salon with her father and Madame de
Vaubert, who, having exhausted all the re-
sources of her mind, and utterly discour-
aged besides, knew not how to abridge the
silent coui'se of the hours. Bernard had,
from time to time, a way of looking at
them, by turns, which made them shudder
from head to foot. He who had been so
2

MHle de La Seigliere.

[Jan.

patient while Helen was there to restrain
or appease him with a smile, would now,
at a word of the Marquis or the baroness,
fly into a passion, which they dreaded as
peccant children do the uplifted rod. He
had substituted action for recital, and gave
battles instead of narrating them. When
he retired, usually pale and cold with wrath,
he no longer, as he had been accustomed
to do, shook the hand of the Marquis, but
left without even a salutation, while they,
remaming alone, regarded each other in
silence. "Well! Madame la baronne .?"
" Oh ! Monsieur le Marquis, we must wait
and see," was still her reply ; and the Mar-
quis, with feet on the fender and nose over
the embers, abandoned himself to mute
despair, from which the baroness no
longer even attempted to withdraw him.
He expected, from day to day, to receive
his notice to quit in due form of law.
Nor was this all. M. de La Seigliere
knew, beyond a reasonable doubt, that
he was, for the country round about,
as M. Des Tournelles had told him, a
subject of derision and mockery, as well
as of hatred and execration. Anonymous
letters — the diversion and pastime of the
province — completed the bitterness of his
cup of life, already steeped in gall and
wormwood. No day passed which did not
bring to him some one of those venomous
flowers, which grow in the shade, and
abound in the departmental soil. Some
of them called him an aristocrat, and
threatened to "lantern him."* Others
accused him of ingratitude towards his old
servant, and of seeking to disinherit the
son after having cheated and plundered
the father. Most of these letters were
enriched with pen and ink illustrations,
little sketches full of grace and amenity,
which advantageously supplied, or agreea-
bly completed, the text. There was, for
instance, a gallows decorated with a poor
fellow pendant, doubtless intended to rep-
resent the Marquis ; or, perhaps, the same
personage was sketched in the act of try-
ing the virtues of another well known in-
strument of death at that time. To add
still further to his anguish, the Gazette,
which the Marquis had read assiduously
since his consultation with the Poitevin

• " To lantern,'' was the republican phi'ase of
the times for hanging to a lamp p®st. — Tr.

D'Aguesseau, was crowded with sinsiste'^
predictions and ill-omened prophecies*
Every day the liberal party was spoken o^
as a bomb which was about to blow up
the hardly yet restored monarchy. Thus
already begun to be confirmed the threat-
ening words of the counsellor. M. de
La Seigliere was in constant terror, and
thought only of earthquakes and revolu-
tions. In the night he would start up in
his bed to listen to the fancied sound of the
MarseiUaise, and when, at length, over-
come by fatigue, he fell asleep, it was only
to see the hideous visage of the old Des
Tournelles from behind the half drawn
curtains bawling — Marry your daughter
to Bernard. Now the Marquis was not
the man to remain, if he could avoid it, in
a position so frightful and so repugnant to
all his feelings. He had neither the pa-
tience nor the perseverance which are the
cement of energetic and bold spirits.
Restless, irritated, humbled, exasperated,
tiredof waiting and seeins; nothing done, lost
in a swamp from which he saw no issue, the
chances were a hundred to one that the
Marquis would suddenly disappear by the
aid of a pistol. But no, not even Mad-
ame de Vaubert could conjecture what
bomb was to burst, — no one save M. Des
Tournelles, who had kindled the match.

One evening in April, Madame de Vau-
bert sat alone with the Marquis, silent, and
gazing steadfastly at the flashing embers
which were dying in the fire-place. It was
easy for the observer to see that deep anx-
iety brooded over her heart like a stormy
atmosphere. Her eye was glassy, her brow
heavy with care, her fingers clenched like
one in extremity, and her mouth, usually
cheerful and smiling, was contracted with
a feeling of selfish despair. And she had,
indeed, just cause of alarm. Her pros-
pects became day by day more desperate,
and she began to ask herself if there was
not danger that she would be caught in her
own snare ? Bernard had the advantage,
very decidedly, and looked and acted very
much as if he regarded the estate as un-
doubtedly his own ; and although she had
not given up all hope, although she had
not thrown the handle after the hatchet,
yet, foreseeing that the time would per-
haps come, when M. de La Seigliere would
be obliged to evacuate the premises, the
baroness had already begun to prepare the

1850.]

Mile de La Seigliere.

plan of the campaign which she would fol-
low if matters should come to a pass as
disastrous as she feared. She would not
consent that her son should espouse M'lle
de La Seigliere with no other dowry than
her youth, beauty, and loveliness, and was
already casting about for some means of
disengaging, with respect to Helen and her
father, the promise and the hand of Raoul.
Such, for some weeks, was the unavowed
subject of her secret meditations.

While Madame de Vaubert was plunged
in these reflections, the Marquis, seated by
the other corner of the fire-side, and silent,
like the baroness, was anxiously cogitating
upon the best manner of commencing the
battle which he was about to oflfer, and how
he should contrive to disengage, with re-
spect to Raoul and his mother, the prom-
ise and hand of Helen.

" The poor Marquis!" said she to her-
self, casting towards him, from time to
time, a furtive look, "If he is obliged to
come to this, what a terrible blow it will
be for him ! I know it ; he consoles him-
self with the thought, that, come what
may, his daughter is to be the baroness of
Vaubert. Poor man ! He loves me ; I
know it. It is twenty yeai-s nearly since
our intimacy was, in some sort, consecra-
ted by the betrothal of our children.
Dear friend ! How shall I find courage
to afiiict so tender and devoted a heart, and
to tear from him his last illusions ? I ex-
pect nothing but furious strife and bitter
recrimination. In his passion he will not
fail to charge me with having courted his
fortune, and turned my back upon him in
his adversity. But I will be resolute ; I
will bring him to comprehend that it woidd
be madness for two paupers to marry ; in-
human to condemn his family and mine to
the gnawing cares of eternal mediocrity.
He will be appeased ; we will sigh together
over our common misfortune, and mingle
our tears and our regrets. And then will
come the grief of Helen, and the protesta-
tions of Bernard. Alas ! the two dear
children adore each other. God made
them for one another. But we will make
them listen to reason. In the course of
six months they wiU recover from the
shock. Raoul will marry the daughter of
some wealthy upstart, who will be glad
thas to ennoble his blood and furbish up
his escutcheon. As to the Marquis, he is

too deeply embued with family pride, too
securely anchored in old prejudices, ever
to consent to enrich himself or his family
by an ignoble alliance. Since he clings to

his parchment well, we will try to find

some country squire of the neighborhood
for Helen, and I hope yet to see the good
Marquis finish his days under the roof of
a son-in-law. "

Thus reasoned Madame de Vaubert,
taking things in their worst aspect. vStiU
she was far from having let go her prey.
She knew Helen perfectly, and had studied
Bernard. If she had no suspicion of what
was passing in the heart of Helen — Helen
had none herself — she had read the heart
of the young man ; she was much farther
advanced in the secret of his trouble than
he himself was. She thought that some-
thing might be done to forward her pur-
pose by bringing them in contact ; she felt
that there was yet something, some inci-
dent, some chance, some occasion, which
might avail her. But what } and how ?
These were the questions which she knew
not how to answer, and she was almost in-
dignant with herself that she could not.

" That poor baroness !" said the Mar-
quis, occasionally, in his turn, throwing a
stealthy and timid glance towards his si-
lent companion ; " she little thinks of the
blow which I am going to strike her ! She
is, on the whole, an amiable and faithful
heart, a sincere and loyal soid. I am con-
vinced that in all this affair she has sought
only my happiness. I woidd swear that,
for herself, she has no other ambition than
to see Raoul united to Helen. Whenever
it should take place she woidd be eager to
receive us in her humble manor, and would
esteem herself happy in sharing with us her
modest competence. That her son should
espouse a La Seigliere would be enough for
her pride and her felicity. Dear affection-
ate soul ! It would have been much more
pleasing to me to have been enabled to re-
alize so charming a dream, and to have
spent my remaining days in her society.
But when she learns that this hope, which
has been so long cherished, must be re-
nounced, she will break out into furious
reproaches, alas ! and merited, perhaps.
Nevertheless, in good conscience, would it
be wise or reasonable to expose our chil-
dren to the rigors of poverty, and to bind
ourselves together by an iron bond which,

g§

M'lle de La

SeigUe're.

[Jan.

sooner or later, would wound us, and ex-
tort our curses ? The baroness is a sen-
sible person ; the first transports appeased,
she will understand how the matter stands,
and resign herself to the arrangement ; and
as the Vauberts make merry of the demo-
cracy well,'Raoul is a fine boy, and we

shall easily find for him some rich dowager
in the neighboibood, who will be very will-
ing to renew her age at the expense of her
fortune."

Thus reasoned the Marquis, but the
truth is, he was like a man in tight boots,
and would have felt just as much at ease in
a thorn bush as in his cushioned chair. He
feared Madame de Vaubert as a revolution .
He was conscious of his own bad faith, and
at the thought of the storm which he was
bringing upon him, his heart seemed to
die in his breast. At length, however, with
desperate resolution, grasping his courage
as it were, with both hands, he commenced
the action in a hap -hazard kind of a way,
letting off" here and there at considerable
intervals, a few random shots.

" Don't you think, Madame la baronne,"
he suddenly broke out like a man little
habituated to such skirmishes, " don't you
think that Bernard is really a remarkable
boy ? The young man pleases me. Quick
as powder, prompt as his sword, head-
strong perhaps, and a little excitable, but
frank and open hearted. I think he is of the
pure metal. He is not exactly handsome,
to be sure ; but then, I like these strongly
marked and masculine countenances. What
an eye ! and what a forehead ! And then
such a nose ! How indicative of royalty !
I should like to know where the fellow got
it. Did you observe what a delicate and
charming mouth he had under that brown
•moustache. God pardon me, it is the
mouth of a Marquis. He knows enough ;
he eanies with him undoubted evidence of
'his mental superiority. A little rough,
perhaps, rather awkward, but he is fast
wearino' away these objections in our soci-
ety. So gold becomes refined in the cru-
cible. That he is a hero is unquestion-
able ; no doubt of that. He is of that
sort of timber which the Emperor used for
dukes, princes, and marshals. I can see
him yet mounted on Roland. What cool-
ness ! what courage ! what intrepidity !
Eh.'' Madame la baronne, there is no con-
cealing the fact ; I like the boy, and I

don't feel it a particular humiliation to
shake his hand."

" Of whom are you speaking .^" asked
the baroness with the utmost nonchalance,
and without apparently interrupting the
train of her meditions.

" Of our young friend," responded the
Marquis complacently, " of our young
chief- of- squadron . "

" And you say "

" That nature has strange freaks, and
that this boy ought to have been born a
gentleman . ' '

" The little Bernard .'" said Madame da
Vaubert, emphasizing the second word with
considerable stress.

" You might as well say, par Dieu, the
great Bernard," replied the Marquis, just
as emphatically thrusting his hands into
his breeches pockets.

" You are getting beside yourself. Mar-
quis," briefly rejoined the baroness, as she
resumed her serious and pensive attitude.

Encouraged by this good success, like
those prudent soldiers who, after having
discharged their muskets, conceal them-
selves behind a tree for security while they
are loading again, the Marquis remained
coy, and there was again a long silence,
disturbed only by the chirpings of a cricket
concealed about the hearth, and the crack-
ling of the wasting coals.

" Madame la baronne," suddenly resum-
ed the Marquis, " does it not seem to you
that I have been ungrateful towards the
good M. Stamply .^ I must confess that,
upon this point, my conscience is not quite
at ease. It appears to me clearly that
that excellent man restored me nothing,
but that he gave me all outright. If it is
so, is it not one of the finest instances of
devotedness and generosity which history
will ever have to record upon its tablets .''
That old Stamply, IMadame, was a noble
soul, and we owe something to his memo-
ry."

Too deeply buried in her own selfish pre-
occupations even to trouble herself with a
thought as to the purpose and drift of M.
de La Seigliere's discourse, the baroness
shrugged her shoulders, and made no reply.

The Marquis began to despair of hitting
the joint, when he very opportunely recall-
ed to mind the lesson of M. Des Tour-
nelles. He reached his hand towards a
lackered stand, took from it a newspaper,

1850.]

MHle de La Seigliere.

and while apparently running over its
columns :

" Madame la baronne," asked he care-
lessly, " have you kept the run of the pa-
pers lately ?"

" What is the use, pray ?" she replied
with a slight show of impatience. "How
can you suppose such nonsense interests
me ?"

" By the sword of my father ! Madame,"
cried the Marquis, letting fall the news-
paper, "you speak very much at your
ease. Nonsense, I agree it is. Nonsense
you may call it, if you please ; but ventre-
saint-gris, I am inclined to think that this
nonsense interests you and me more than
you appear to be aware of."

" Why see, Marquis, how things are
going," rejoined the baroness in a manner
that indicated that she was tired of the con-
versation. " His Majesty enjoys the most
perfect health ; our princes hunt, and the
court is gay ; the people are happy, and
the rabble have enough to eat. What is
there in all this that need cause alarm .^"

" Twenty years ago, we talked just so,"
said the Marquis, opening his snuff-box,
and delicately thrusting in his thumb and
fore -finger. " The rabble had enough to
eat, our princes hunted, they danced at
court, and his Majesty was marvelously
well. But all this did not prevent the old
throne of France one fine morning from
cracking, crumbling, and drawing us with
it in its fall, and burying us, dead or alive,
under its ruins. Things are going on now
as they were then ; we are upon a volcano."

" You are mad, Marquis," said Ma-
dame de Vaubert, who, entirely occupied
with her own concerns, and besides not
thinking much of the fitness of a political
discussion at so late an hour, did not deem
it her duty to take up and refute the opin-
ions of the old gentleman.

" I repeat it, Madame la baronne, we
are upon a volcano. The revolution is not
dead ; it is a half extinguished fire, which
yet lurks beneath the ashes, and you will
see it some day break forth, and consume
the remains of the monarchy. It is a vast
cave, where are gathered a crowd of worth-
less vagabonds, who call themselves repre-
sentatives of the people. It is a mine dug
beneath the throne, filled with powder,
and just ready to blow it to the four winds
of heaven. The liberals are the legitimate

descendants of the sans-culottes ; liberal-
ism will achieve what ninety-three begun.
The question with us is whether we wUl
suffer ourselves to be overwhelmed in the
general catastrophe, or whether we will seek
safety by embracing the very ideas which
threaten to engulph us."

" Really Marquis," said the baroness,
" you seem to be in earnest, as if you be-
lieved all this. An imaginary conflagra-
tion has got possession of your brain, and
you see nothing all the while but your own
house on fire."

" Madame la baronne," cried the Mar-
quis, " I am not selfish, and I can say
boldly that personal interest was never my
controlling motive. Whether my house
burns or not is of little consequence. My
preservation or prosperity is not the question
at issue ; it is the safety of us all, of the
entire noblesse. What matter, in truth,
if the name of La Seigliere shall become
extinct, and soon be buried in silence and
obscurity } But Madame, what is of vast
importance is that the noblesse of France
shall not perish."

" I have a little curiosity to know how
you purpose to help it," replied Madame
de Vaubert, a hundred leagues from sus-
pecting whither the Marquis was tending,
and scarcely able to suppress her mirth at
thus seeing so frivolous a person inconti-
nently dealing with questions so difficult
and dangerous.

" It is a grave question, Madame, which
I have succeeded in raising, but which I
fear I shall not be able so successfully to
resolve," promptly returned M. de La
Seigliere, who, feeling that he was fairly
under way, now began to advance with a
more confident step. " Nevertheless, if
I might be permitted to advance an idea or
two upon so important a subject, I should
say that it is not by isolating themselves in
their castles that the nobility can recover
that preponderance which it once had in
the affairs of the country ; perhaps I should
add — between you and me — that our old
ftimilies have too long restricted themselves
to alliances with each other, that for want
of renovation, the old patrician blood has
run out, and that in order to recover its
force, its warmth and life, which seem al-
most to have left it, it must mingle itself
with the younger, warmer, and more vigor-
ous blood of the people, and the bour-

M'lle de La

Seigliere.

[Jan.

geoisie. In short, Madame la baronne, I
should endeavor to show that since the age
is evidently progressing, it is our duty to
keep pace with it, or we must be left be-
hind to be crushed on the way. It is me-
lancholy to think of it ; but still we must
have the courage to recognize and act upon
the fact. The Gauls have won the as-
cendancy, and the Franks have hope of
safety only on the condition that they ally
themselves to their new conquerors, and
recruit from their ranks."

Here Madame de Vaubert, who from
the commencement of this brief discourse
had been gradually turning towards the
speaker, leaned her elbow upon the arm
of the chair in which she was sitting,
and appeared to listen with curious atten-
tion.

" Would you know, Madame la ba-
ronne," continued M. de la Seigliere, re-
joiced at the evidence that he was now
master of his auditory, " would you know
what the celebrated Des Tournelles, one of
the most comprehensive and enlightened
mmds of the present epoch, said to me not
long since .'' ' Monsieur le Marquis,' said
that great jurist to me, ' these are serious
times ; we must adopt the people that they
may adopt us ; we must descend to them
that they may ascend to us. It is at the
present time with the noblesse as with the
precious metals ; they want solidifying ;
they want a grain of alloy.' A thought
so profound that it at first almost bewilder-
ed me ; but after a thorough consideration
of the matter, I am satisfied that there is
truth at the bottom, — a cruel truth I agree.
But it were far better for us, at the ex-
pense of some concession, thus to make
sure of a prosperous future, than to lie
down and be buried in the shroud of a past
which will never return. Yes ! ventre-
saint-gris !" cried he, suddenly rising from
his seat and striding across the room,
" they have for a long time represented us,
to the view of the country, as an incorrigi-
ble caste, rejecting from among us all that
is not part and parcel of us, infatuated
with our titles, learning nothing, and forget-
ting nothing, filled with pride and inso-
lence, and deadly hostUe to all equality.
The time has come to put an end to these
base calumnies, these foolish accusations.
We must mingle in the crowd ; open to
them our doors, and let our enemies learn

to respect us in proportion as they learn t*'
know us."

Hereupon M. de La Seigliere, frighten-
ed at his own audacity, looked timidly to-
wards Madame de Vaubert, and very much
like a man, who, after having touched the
train which leads to the mine, finds his re-
treat cut off", and is momentarily expect-
ing a fragment of the rock against his own
head. But it happened quite the contrary.
The baroness, who had so poor an opinion
of her old friend as not to doubt his sinceri-
ty, was besides too much occupied with her-
self to suspect that, just at that time, there
could exist in this lower world any other
self than herself, or any other interest than
her interest. Without even thinking to
inquire whence came such new and incon-
gruous notions, Madame de Vaubert saw
at a glance one thing, and one only — that
M. de La Seigliere had half opened a door
by Mdiich Raoul might escape from his en-
gagement if it should be thought best.

"Marquis," cried she, with a liveliness
fidl of urbanity, " Your observations are
very sensible, and although I have never
doubted your excellent judgment, although
I have always suspected that underneath
this outward appearance of frivolity there
was a serious and reflective mind, still, I
must confess that I am as much surprised
as charmed to find you entertaining an or-
der of ideas so elevated and judicious. I
make you my compliments."

The Mai-quis raised his head, and looked
at the baroness with the air of a man who
had just received in his face a handful of
roses, instead of a charge of grape, as he
had expected. Too selfish, also, on his
part, to care for any thing apart from hun-
self, far from thinking to account for this
unexpected acquiescence of the baroness,
he thought only to enjoy it.

" It is very much so with all of us," re-
plied the Marquis good humoredly, stro-
king his chin with charming simplicity.
" Because something of grace and elegance
have fallen to our lot, pedants and school-
masters console themselves for their inferi-
ority in point of manners and appearance,
by charging us with a lack of intellect.
When we shall deign to mingle with them,
we will prove that we are equally superior
to them on other fields, and that we can
handle speech and thought as once we
handled the sword and the lance."

1850.]

Mile de La SeigUere.

"Marquis," resumed Madame de Vau-
bert, who endeavored to give to the con-
versation the turn which it had taken at
first, " to return to the subject which you
were just now considering, it is indeed
quite certain that there is an end of the
noblesse, if, instead of forming new alli-
ances, they continue, as you have most
truly remarked, to isolate themselves in
their estates, and hedge themselves about
by their pride of birth. The edifice is tot-
tering, and will soon fall, if we are not
skillful enough to convert the battering
rams which are shaking it, into buttresses
for its support. In other words, to drop
the somewhat crude figure, in order to pre-
serve ourselves we must inoculate."

"Exactly, par Dieu ! well said!" cried
M. de La Seigliere, more and more pleased
at not encountering the opposition which
he had so much dreaded. " Madame la
baronne, you are decidedly admirable !
You imderstand yourself upon all points ;
nothing surprises you ; nothing astonishes,
nothing alarms you. You have the keen
eye of the eagle ; and can look the sun in
the face without being dazzled. The poor
baroness !" added he mentally, rubbing his
hands; "She is cutting her own throat,
with all her sagacity."

"The good Marquis!" thought Mad-
ame de Vaubert on her part, " I see the
trouble, but he is carelessly playing in-
to my hands. He has just set the trap in
which, if I have occasion, I may by and by
take him. MarquLs," cried she, " I
have held these opinions for a long while ;
but I have been afraid to avow them, lest,
in so doing, I should wound your suscepti-
bilities, and aHenate from me your good
wishes."

"Indeed!" returned the Marquis,
" what an opinion you have of your old
friend ! moreover, besides that in view of
our holy cause there is no trial which I
cannot cheerfully undergo, I am bound to
declare to you that, for my part, I should
feel no repugnance to setting the example
in venturing the first into the only way of
safety which lies open to us. I have always
set the example. I was the first to emi-
grate. But times change, and I am no
Marquis de Carabas — not I. I mean to
keep up with the age. The people have
won their spurs and conquered their titles
of nobility. They have theii- Dukes, their

Counts, and then- Marquises ; there is
Eylau, Wagram, and Moscow. These ti-
tles are quite as good as others. For the
rest, Madame la baronne, I can pardon
your scruples and appreciate your reluc-
tance, and as for myself, if I have delayed
to open myself to you on this point, it was
out of consideration for your feelings, and
a sincere desire to do nothing which should
subject me to the possibility of losing the
friendship of so estimable a person."

" This is very strange ;" thought the
baroness, who began to be a little alarmed.
" Where is the Marquis coming to } Con-
sideration for my feelings !" cried she, with
amazement. " Do you take me for the
baroness of Flounces f Have you ever
known me to refuse to acknowledge, in the
people, whatever is great, noble, or gene-
rous .'' Have I ever disparaged the bour-
geoisie ? And am I not well aware that
tlie sentiments, manners, and virtues of
the golden age have taken refuge amongst
the new nobUity P^

"Oh! ah!" muttered the Marquis to
himself, to whom the drift of the baroness
was a little doubtful, " this is not quite
clear; there is a snake under the stone."

"As to your anxiety about losing my
friendship, seriously. Marquis, did you fear
it.?" added Madame de Vaubert. "You
must think as poorly of my heart as you
do of my head. You know very well, my
friend, that I am not selfish. How many
times have I not been on the point of re-
leasing you from your word, at the thought
that in exchange for the wealth which your
daughter would bring, my son could return
only a great name — the heaviest of all
burthens !"

" Aha !" thought the Marquis, " Is this
crafty baroness, foreseeing my ruin, seeking
to disengage the hand of her son ? Can't
be ; it is too bold a part. Madame la
baronne," cried he, turning to the baroness,
" that is precisely the case with me. I
have oftentimes accused myself of stand-
ing in the way of M. de Vaubert's ad-
vancement. I have frequently asked my-
self, with a sentiment of fear, if my
daughter would not be an obstacle in the
way of the progress of that noble young
man."

" Aha !" thought the baroness, who now
saw appear, by little and little, through the
mist, the outline of the shore towards

Mile de La Seii^liere.

[Jan.

which the Marquis was directing his bark.
" Is it possible that this old fox of a Mar-
quis is deceiving me ? Overwhelmed, as he
has been, with favors at my hands, it would,
indeed, be too infamous ! Certainly, Mar-
quis, it would cost me much to break such
delightful bonds," she replied, " still, if
your interest demands it, I would sacrifice,
for your sake, the sweetest dream of my
whole life."

" The thins; is done," thought the Mar-
quis, "and I am beat; but it is all the
same. Only, was I to expect such perfidy
in a friend of thirty years ? Talk no more
of the disinterested afiection and gratitude
of women ! Baroness," continued he, with
a dolorous show of resignation, "if I were
compelled to renounce forever the hope
that these two lovely children would one
day be united, I could not endure it ; the
very thought of it breaks my heart. Nev-
ertheless, out of consideration for you, my
noble friend, and for the sake of your dear
son, there is no sacrifice to which my de-
votion is not equal."

Madame de Vaubert suppressed her
rage. After a moment of silence, durino-
which her fury struggled wildly for the mas-
tery, fixing her flashing eye upon the old
gentleman —

"Marquis," said she, "look me in the
face."

At the time in which these words were
uttered, like a hare hopping in the bushes,
and which suddenly discovers the hunter,
with his gun levelled not ten paces ofi^, the
Marquis started, and regarded Madame de
Vaubert with a wavering look.

" Marquis, you are a cheat."

" Madame la baronne" -

" You are a traitor."

" Ventre-saint-gris, Madaille !" •

" You are an ingrate."

M. de La Seigliere was frightened and
dumb with amazement. After having en-
joyed his fright for a few moments —

" I pity you," at length resumed Mad-
ame de Vaubert ; " I am going to spare
you the humiliation of an avowal which you
could not make without falling in shame,
at my feet. You have resolved to marry
your daughter to Bernard."

"Madame"

" You have resolved to marry your
daughter to Bernard," authoritatively re-
peated Madame de Vaubert. " I discov-

ered the resolution in its germ, and have
watched its growth, fed, as it has been, by
your selfishness. For nearly a month, un-
known to you, have I been aware of the
change which you were undergoing. How
could you think of deceiving me with your
feeble disguises .'' Did you not know that
in such a game you woidd certainly be the
loser .? The first word which escaped you this
evening betrayed you. A month ago I de-
tected you, and saw whither you were tend-
ing, and have since closely watched you.
You know that I have been to you kinder
and more generous than Ariadne, who, at
least, was not abandoned without some re-
turn for her kindness. Without my aid
you could never have escaped from the lab-
yrinth of difficulties which your own folly
had brought upon you. Thus, Monsieur
le Marquis, while I was exhausting all the
resources of my mind, which you know
would spurn obliquity of whatever kind,
in contrivances of every sort in your be-
half ; while in the promotion of your inte-
rests I was sacrificing my tastes, my feel-
ings, even the uprightness of my character,
you, in utter disregard of your plighted
faith, were plotting against me the blackest
of perfidies ; you were conspiring to deliver
to your enemy the bethrothed of my son,
and the place which I defended ; you were
seriously meditating upon striking the
champion, who was contending for you, a
cruel and remediless blow !"

" You go too far, Madame la baronne,"
replied the Marquis, with the confusion of
an angler caught in his own net. " I have
come to no resolution ; I have decided up-
on nothing ; though, I admit, that since I
became con\'inced that the good Stamply's
benefaction was not a restitution but a gra-
tuity, I felt myself bowed down under the
weight of gratitude, and as, night and day,
I bethought myself how we could acquit
ourselves toward that noble and generous
old man, it is very possible that the thought
may have"

"You, Monsieur le Marquis, you, bow-
ed down under the weight of gratitude !"
interrupted Madame de Vaubert, with an
explosion. "Don't make yourself ridicu-
lous by talking such stufi". I know you
too well ; you are an ingrate. You care just
as much for the memory of old Stamply
as you cared for his person, and no more.
Besides you owe nothing to him j it is to

1850.]

M'lle de La

Seigliere.

me that you are indebted for all you have
and are. But for my exertions, your old
farmer would have died without troubling
himself to know if you were in existence.
But for me, you and your daughter would
have yet been shivering by the corner of
your scanty fire-side in Germany. With-
out my assistance, you woiUd never have
again set foot in the castle of your ances-
tors. You know all this very well, but
you feign not to be aware of it ; and it is
because of your ingratitude. No; your
difficulty is not gratitude, but selfishness.
To marry your daughter to the son of your
late farmer, is your chief purpose, and the
secret of your trouble. It wears upon and
harasses you. You hate the people ; you
execrate Bernard ; you comprehend and
have comprehended nothing of what was
going on about you. You are prouder,
haughtier, more obstinate, more inac-
cessible, more exclusive, and, in a word,
more incorrigible than any Marquis of
song, vaudeville, or comedy. And your
selfishness is even greater than your
pride."

" Well ! ventre-saint-gris ! think what
you please," cried the Marquis, with the
resignation of despair. " There is one
thing that 1 do know, and that is that I
am tired of the part which you have made
me play. I have been a long while indig-
nant at such low wiles and base manoeu-
vres, and I am determined to have done
with them at all hazards. By heavens !
You have said it ; my daughter shall mar-
ry Bernard !"

Carefid ! Marquis, careful !"
" Pour out the vials of your wrath and
contempt ; call me a cheat and an ingrate ;
charge me with selfishness and treachery ;
— do all these if you please ; you have a
right to do so. You are so disinterested,
Madame, in all this affair ! You have
shown yourself so frank and open-hearted !
You were so kind to poor old Stamply in
his last days ! You discovered towards
him so much tenderness, and showed him
so much attention ! And so you were
bound in conscience to do ; for it was at
your instigation that during his lifetime
he deprived himself of all means of pro-
curing the kind attentions of others."
" It was for your benefit, cruel man !"
" For my benefit ! for my benefit !" re-

iterated the Marquis with a shake of the
head, " Madame la baronne don't make
yourself ridiculous by talking such stuff!"

" It ill becomes you to accuse me of
ingratitude," continued Madame de Vau-
bert, " you, the donee, who have over-
whelmed your benefactor with bitterness."

" I knew nothing of it •, but you who
knew all had no pity."

" It is you," cried the baroness, " who
drove your benefactor from your table and
fireside !"

" It is you," returned the Marquis,
"who after having meanly won the confi-
dence of a credulous and defenceless old
man, spurned him from you, and left him
to die with chagrin."

" You banished him to his secluded
chamber !"

" You hurried him to his tomb !"

" This is war, Marquis!"

"Well, war it is, then !" shouted the
Marquis, " I wUl fight once at least before
I die."

" Think of it. Marquis ! Pitiless, mer-
ciless war ! War without truce !"

" War to the death ! Madame la ba-
ronne," said the Marquis, with a very com-
plaisant bow.

Hereupon Madame de Vaubert with-
drew, threatening and terrible, while the
Marquis was skipping for joy like a kid,
alone in the room. On her return to the
manor, after having paced her chamber for
some time, knocking her forehead and press-
ing her bosom with rage, she abruptly
opened the window, and like a cat watch-
ing for an opportunity to pounce upon a
mouse, fell to gazing upon the opposite
chateau de La Seigliere, whose windows
were at this instant beaming in the clear
light of the moon. In spite of the cool-
ness of the air, she remained nearly au
hour leaning over the balcony in mute con-
templation. Suddenly her countenance
lighted up, her eyes kindled, and like Ajax
threatening the gods, throwing a gesture
of defiance towards the castle, she exclaim-
ed ; " I wUl have it." She immediately
returned to her chamber, and penned this
single word to Raoul — " Return." She
then retired, and fell asleep with that smile
upon her lips which the genius of evU
wears when resolved upon the destruction
of a soul.

MHle de La Seigliere.

[Jan.

CHAPTER XI.

From this memorable evening forward,
Madame de Vaubert did not make her ap-
pearance at the chateau, to the special
comfort and advantage of its inmates.
During the few days which intervene be-
tween this and the denouement of this lit-
tle and too long history, the relations be-
tween the Marquis and Bernard grew by
degrees more and more agreeable and inti-
mate. No longer irritated by the pre-
sence of the baroness, against whom Ber-
nard, in spite of his efforts to the contrary,
had nourished a vague sentiment of distrust
and real hatred, the young man became
more familiar and more tractable. On the
other hand, the Marquis for several weeks
had assumed towards his guest an attitude
more cordial, affectionate, and even at
times approaching tenderness. Both ap-
peared to have modified and softened out
of a mutual desire for conciliation, their
opinions and language. As they sat by
the fireside in the evening, they would
chat and discuss together, but carefully
avoided disputes. Besides, since the dis-
appearance of Madame de Vaubert, their
conversations had for the most part drop-
ped politics, and taken a more familiar and
domestic character. The Marquis ran
upon famUy enjoyments, and the felicities
of marriage ; and occasionally he would
let drop some observation which stirred
the soul of Bernard, and swept over his
heart like warm gusts of happiness. It so
happened that one evening the Marquis
gently insisted that his daughter should
spend the evening with them in the parlor,
and not return to her chamber as was her
usual custom. The hours of that even-
ing were full of enchantment after the em-
barrassment of the first few moments was
worn off. The Marquis was lively, good
natured, and talkative ; Bernard was hap-
py and grave ; Helen was dreamy, silent,
and smiling. The next day the two
younger met in the park, and the charm
recommenced, — more disturbed it is true,
and more mysterious, but for this reason
all the more charming.

Meanwhile, how was Helen to be ap-
proached on the subject of her father's

purpose ? By what by-ways, under cover
of what disguises could he lead her to the
desired end .? This was now the study
and the trouble of the Marquis. For no
consideration in the world would he reveal
to her the humiliating position in which for
the last six months they had stood to Ber-
nard. He knew too well her proud and no-
ble nature, and that he had to do with a
spirit which could never bear the thought
of having been du-ectly or indirectly con-
nected with the chicanery of which the
chateau de La Seigliere had been the
scene. It was, nevertheless, this simple and
noble spirit which it was now to be attempt-
ed to render the accessory of selfishness
and treachery.

One day, while the Marquis was buried
in reflection as deep as was possible for
him, he sixddenly felt two caressing arms
gently clasping his neck, and on raising his
eyes he perceived the countenance of Helen
hanging lilie a lily above his head, and re-
garding him with an angelic smile. He
drew her tenderly to his bosom, pressed
her to his heart, and held her a long time
thus, with one hand upon her head, fre-
quently imprinting a kiss upon her shining
forehead. When he had relaxed his grasp
and arose, she saw two tears steal into her
father's eyes, and only two. " Father,"
she exclaimed, seizing his hands with the
utmost tenderness, " you have sorrows
which you do not impart to your child. I
know it ; I am sure of it ; and to-day is
not the first time I have noticed it. Dear
fadier, what troubles you .'' Into whose
heart, if not into mine, can you pour the
sorrows of your own } When we lived in
the depths of our own poor Germany, I
had only to smile and you were consoled.
Father, tell me, something is going on
around us which is strange and inexplica-
ble. What has become of that charming
playfulness in which I so much delighted ?
You are sad ; Madame de Vaubert seems
dissatisfied, and I am agitated and troubled
because you seem to suffer so much. But
what is the matter ? If my life can re-
lieve you, you know it is at your disposal."

As the victim thus generously offered

1850.]

Mile de La Seiglure.

herself upon the altar of sacrifice, the
Marquis could no longer restrain himself.
Her love was so true, and her tone so affec-
tionate, that the old man burst into tears
before the astonished Helen.

" Oh ! Father ! What has happened }
Of all the misfortunes which can await
you, is there one which my love cannot
solace .^" cried she, throwing herself into
his arms, and in her turn bursting into
tears. The ^Marquis was touched, but not
so deeply as to be drawn from his pur-
pose ; for he thought the opportunity too
favorable to be neglected, and the matter
too well begun not to be pursued. For a
moment he was upon the point of avowing
all ; but shame prevented, and the fear of of-
/ fending the noble pride of Helen, who would
inevitably revolt at the faint glimpse of the
ignoble part which she was to be made to
play in this adventm'e. He therefore
made ready again to turn the flank of
truth, since he did not dare to meet it in
the face. Not that this manner of pro-
ceeding was in accordance with the nature
of his character ; far otherwise ; but the
Marquis was unhinged. Madame de Vau-
bert had led him into a bad way, from
which he could extricate himself only by
cunning and address. When once strayed
from the main route there is no way of re-
turning save by cross roads or through
the fields. After having; assuaged the
tears of his daughter, and himself recov-
ered from the emotion which he could not
help feeling, he begun by recounting with
some variations, the part which he had
been made to play by the baroness ; for al-
though it is to be borne in mind that his
unagination was not like that of Madame
de Vaubert, fertile in expedients, neverthe-
less, thanks to the lessons which he had
recently received, the Marquis could boast
some dexterity in the art of deception.
He lamented the hardships and difiiculties
of the times ; he bewailed the misfortunes
of the aristocracy which he represented —
a new as well as original figure — as a ship
tossed by the revolutionary wave. Profit-
ing by the inexperience of Helen, who had
lived entirely careless of public afiairs, he
painted in sombre colors, which he well
knew how to exaggerate, the uncertainty
of the present, and the threatening aspect of
the future. He made use of all the words
of the vocabulary then in use ; he caused

to defile and parade before her all the spec-
tres and phantoms which the ultra-royal-
ist journals were daily accustomed to mar-
shal before their subscribers. The soil
was mined ; the heavens were charged
with tempests ; the hydra of revolution had
reared again its seven heads ; the cry, war
to the castles ! went echoing through the
land ; the people and the bom-geoisie, like
two devouring hyenas, awaited only a given
signal to rush upon the defenceless no-
blesse, gorge themselves with their blood,
and divide among them their spoils. It
was by no means certain that Robespierre
was dead ; the rumor went that the Corsi-
can wolf had escaped from the island of his
captivity. In short, he brought into play,
and promiscuously crowded together, aU
the frightful artillery which would be like-
ly to terrify her young imagination. When
he had exhausted his armory —

" Is that all, father.?" said Helen, with a
smile full of calmness and serenity. " If
the soU is mined under our feet, if the
heavens are threatening, if France, as you
say, execrates us and wishes our destruc-
tion, why need we stay here .'' Let us
depart and return to our dear Germany ;
let us go and live there as we did before ;
poor, unknown, and undisturbed. If they
cry, ' war to the castles !' they must also
cry ' peace to the cottages !' What do we
want more. Happiness does not depend
on wealth, and opulence is not worth a
regret."

But this was not to the purpose of the
old gentleman, who, fortunately for him-,
self, knew of a more certain route by
which to arrive at her noble heart.

" My chUd," replied he, with a shake of
the head, " these are noble sentiments ;
thirty years since mine were very similar.
I was one of the first to give the signal of
emigration ; country, castle, hereditary for-
tune, domain of my ancestors — I abandon-
ed all ; and it cost me nothinsr to offer this
proof of fidelity and devotion to royalty m
danger. I was youno; then, and chivalrous.

17 1

Now I am old, my daughter ; the heart has
outlived the body ; the blood is not equal
to the courage ; the blade has worn out the
scabbard. I am nothing but a poor old
man, racked with gout and rheumatism,
tortured with pains and infirmities. The
fact is, my daughter, that I am good for
nothing. One would believe me hale and

M''Ue de La Seigliere.

[Jan.

vigorous, active and strong, and to see me
they would give me a half a century yet.
But they are very much deceived. I grow
weaker and weaker every day, and am evi-
dently fast declining. Look at my shriv-
elled limbs, or rather drum-sticks !" added
he, pointing lugubriously to his round and
vigorous thigh. " And my stomach is
very much out of order. It is not to be
concealed, I am only a withered bough,
which the first breeze may carry away."

" Oh ! father, father, why do you say
so.'"' cried Helen, throwing herself weep-
ing upon the neck, of the new Sestus
Quintus.

" Ah, my child," continued he, with a
melancholy look, " whatever moral force we
may have been endowed with, it is a cruel
thing, at my age, to resume the winter of
exile and poverty, when there can be no
other hope, no other ambition here than to
die in peace, and to be buried in the tomb
of our ancestors."

" You are not going to die yet ; you will
live a long while I hope," said Helen, with
confidence, pressing him to her bosom.
" God, to whom I pray daily for you, the
just and good God, will spare you to my
love ; He will vouchsafe to shorten my life
and prolong yours. As to the other dan-
ger which threatens, father, is it so great
and pressing as you seem to imagine ? per-
haps you are alarmed without sufficient rea-
son. Why should the people hate us ?
Your servants love you because you are
kind to them. When I pass along the
hedges, they stop their work to give me an
affectionate salutation ; as soon as their lit-
tle children discover me, they come run-
ning up to me, with joy in their counte-
nances ; more than once, under their thatch-
ed roof, their mothers have taken my hand
and carried it to their lips. The people do
not hate you. You speak of a mined soil,
of sinister rumors, of a threatening sky.
Look around you, father ; the earth is cov-
ered with verdure, and the heavens are
blue and smiling ; I do not hear any other
cries than the song of the lark and the dis-
tant shouts of the shepherds and herdsmen.
I see no other evidences of revolution than
those of the advancing spring."

" My dear child, how happy for you, that
you perceive in this wicked world only the
images of nature and the harmonies of crea-
tion !" said the Marquis, kissing the brow

of Helen, with sincere affection. "Helen,"
he added, after a moment's silence, " thir-
ty years ago matters were very much the
same. As now, the fields were decked
with verdure and flowers ; the shepherds
shouted to their flocks upon the hills ; the
larks sung merrily in the meadows, and
your mother — my daughter, your beautiful
and noble mother — was, like you, the de-
light, the angel of the whole region. But
we were compelled to fly. Trust to my
longer experience ; the future is sombre
and threatening. It is almost always the
case that from a serene and limpid sky
breaks the thunder of revolution. But sup-
pose danger is yet far off; suppose that I
may be permitted to die under the roof of
my fathers ; can I hope to die in peace, in
prospect of leaving you alone, without sus-
tenance or support, in this world of tumult
and storms ? When I am gone, what will
become of my dear daughter.^ Will M.
de Vaubert protect her in those fearful
times .'' Unfortunate children ! The very
position which you occupy, and the name
which you bear, seem only to draw des-
truction upon you; and your marriage will
only serve to increase the danger ; you will
only be to each other a source of mutual
misfortune ; each of you will have two fa-
talities against which to contend, instead of
one, and you will thus consign yourselves
to the fury of popular hatred. I was talk-
ing the other evening with the baroness of
this matter, and in our mutual solicitude we
both questioned whether it would be pru-
dent and wise at present, at least, to con-
summate the projected union."

Helen started, and threw upon her father
the look of the frightened doe.

" And I even thought I could discover,"
added M. de La Seigliere, " that the bar-
oness would not very reluctantly release
me from my pledge, and be absolved from
hers. ' Marquis,' said she to me, with that
good sense which never abandoned her,
' would not the uniting of these two chil-
dren, under the circumstances, be like di-
recting two vessels momentarily in danger
of destruction, to relieve each other ? If
left alone they have each a chance for safe-
ty ; but, united, their prospects are so
much the more dismal.' Thus Spoke the
mother of Raoul ; I must add, that it is al-
so the opinion of the celebrated Des Tour-
uelleSj an old friend of our famUy, and

1850.]

MHle de La

Seiglicre.

who, without ever having seen you, feels
for you a lively interest. — ' Marquis,' said
that great jurist, one of the greatest intel-
lects of the age, one day to me, ' to give
your daughter to that young de Vaubert
would be like taking refuge during a thun-
der storm under an oak in the open field ;
it would be inviting the lightning upon her
head.' "

" Father," responded the young girl,
with calm dignity, "]M. des Tournelles has
no concern in this affair, and I can hardly
recognize that ]\Iadame de Vaubert herself
has the right to absolve me from my obli-
gation to her son. M. de Vaubert and I
are engaged to each other before God. I
have his word ; he has mine. God, be-
fore whom the pledge was made, can alone
absolve us."

" Far be it from me," replied the Mar-
quis, with earnestness, " far be it from me
to advise, or consent to treachery or per-
jury in any form ! I only fear that you ex-
aggerate the gravity and solemnity of the
engagements into which you have entered.
Raoul and you are afl&anced — nothing
more. Now, as thsy say in the country,
betrothal and marriage are two different
things. Before the sacrament has been ad-
ministered, the parties may always, by mu-
tual agreement, withdraw from their en-
gagement without impiety or dishonor.
Before marrying your mother I was affi-
anced nine times : the first, at the age of
seven months ; the ninth, at thirteen years.
Still, my dear Helen, I have no intention of
opposing your inclinations. I consider that
you are bound to young de Vaubert. You
were brought up together, in exile and pov-
erty ; it may seem pleasant to jo\i both to
return there together. At your age, my
dear child, there is no prospect, however
sad, over which love does not spread its
enchanting, but, permit me to say, decep-
tive light. To suffer and to love is the
bliss of youth. Nevertheless, I have re-
marked, that, in general, these connections,
formed so near the cradle, are wanting in
that mysterious somethmg which consti-
tutes the charm of love. I do not pretend
to be an expert in the matter of sentiment ;
but I have come to the conclusion that love
diminishes in proportion to the length of
the acquaintance. Our young baron is,
however, a pleasant and gentlemanly per-
son— a little cold and stiff, perhaps — and,

if you will pardon me, rather indifferent;
negative in point of character ; but then, he
is handsome. He has not hardened his
hands with toil, nor bronzed his visage in
the fire and smoke of the enemy. He's
handsome, and has a way of dressing his
hair which has always ravished me. He's
handsome — the lily with the rose."

" Monsieur de Vaubert is a sensible man,
father, and a gentleman," said Helen,
gravely.

" To be sure he is ; no doubt of it ; and
a worthy young man, who has nover made
any talk in the world, and has never tired
anybody with relations of his achievements.
Ventrc-saint-gris .'" cried the Marquis,
abruptly changing his tone, " I am sorry to
say it, but it is true, our young gentlemen
of the present day seem to take it for grant-
ed that great things are only to be expect-
ed from the humble. In my time, the
young noblemen thought differently, thank
heaven ! As for myself, I have never been
in battle, it is true ; but, by the sword of
my ancestors ! when my services wore
wanted I was always ready ; and I am still
cited, at court, as one of the first and most
faithful who were eager to go and protest
to foreign nations against the enemies of the
old monarchy. This, my daughter, this is
what your father has done ; and if I have
not won laurels in the army of Conde, it is
because I thought laurels bedewed with the
blood of France were won at too great a
price."

" But, father," said Helen, hesitatingly,
"it is not the fault of M. de Vaubert, if
he has lived till the present in inaction and
obscurity; had he the heart of a lion he
could not show his courage with no one to
combat."

"Bah! bah!" cried the Marquis, "a
soul that pants for glory will find ways
enough to quench its thhst. Why, at the
time of the emigration, I was upon the
point of going to America to fight the In-
dians, and it was only because I recollected
that I owed a duty to our glorious France
that I chose Gei-many instead of America.
Look at this young Bernard. He is not
eight and twenty yet ; but he wears the ev-
idence of his bravery in his button-hole ;
he has paraded, as a conqueror, in some of
the first capitals of Europe, and but just
escaped death on the plains of Moscow.
He was hardly twenty when the emperor

M''lle de La Seighcre.

[Jan.

who, whatever may he said, was not a fool,
remarked him at the hattle of Wagram.
I say this, my child, not to disparage
Raoul. There is no particular necessity
that he should do any thing to distinguish
himself. He is already a baron ; and, for
one of his age, a very respectable young
man. We must not be too exacting."

" Father," said Helen, more and more
troubled, " M. de Vaubert loves me ; he
has my word, and for me that is enough."

" Doubtless he does love you ; and I
take your word for it the more readily as I
have rarely seen any indications of it ;
concealed fires are always the most terri-
ble. But I think that had I been in his
place I should not have gone off to Paris
quite so precipitately, and precisely at the
time when our young hero had come to pay
us a visit."

"Father!" exclaimed Helen, blushing
like a rose.

" To be sure, Raoul sends you a letter
once a month or so. I have i-ead only one
of them ; — pretty style, perfumed paper,
good spelling, correct punctuation, and all
that ; but, I beg you to believe, my daugh-
ter, that, in our times, this was not the
way we wrote to the tender object of our
flame!"

" Father !" repeated Helen, beseeching-
ly and half smiling.

At this point, judging the place suffi-
ciently dismantled, the insidious Marquis
returned to his first batteries. He showed
that in these times of trial the noblesse had
no hope of safety, except by forming alli-
ances with those in lower rank. He man-
aged his daughter as Des Tournelles had a
short time before managed him. He again
pictured himself, to her imagination, poor,
exiled, proscribed, begging like Belisarius,
and dying far from his native land. Again
the tears started in the eyes of Helen.
Then, by a transition skillfully effected, he
came to speak of old Stamply ; he was pa-
thetic on the subject of the old farmer's
probity, and regretted exceedingly that
during his life he had made him so poor a
return. He was successful in awakening
doubts and scruples in her young heart,
without, however, awakening suspicion.
From father to son was only a step. He
extolled Bernard, and represented him,
now as a dike against the fury of the waves,
now as a shelter from the beatino- storm.

In short, by evasion after evasion, and step
by step, he arrived at the end towards
which he had been tending and demanded
plainly, though apparently by way of re-
flection, if, considering the present aspect
of affjiirs and their future prospects, an al-
liance with the Stamplys did not promise
the La Seiojlieres more advantage and se-
curity than an alliance with the de Vau-
berts. The Marquis had proceeded thus
far, when he suddenly stopped, perceiving
that Helen was as pale and trembling as if
he had struck her a mortal blow.

"Zounds!" cried the Marquis, seizing
her in his arms, " I am no hangman. Do
3"0U think I am like Calchas, about to lead
you to the sacrifice and immolate you upon
the steps of the altar ? No, no ; you are no
Iphigenia, and I am no Agamemnon. We
are talking, reasoning together, that's all.
I can see very well, how, at the first blush, a
La Seigliere must naturally revolt and be
indignant at the idea of such an alliance ;
but, my child, I repeat it : — think of your
own situation, of your old father ; think of
the devotion of M'lle de Sombreuil. This
young Bernard is not of noble blood, it is
true ; but, in these times, who is } Twen-
ty years from now a title will not be worth
the picking up. I wish you could hear M.
Des Tournelles talk on the subject. He
who serves his country well has no need of
ancestors, says the sublime Voltaire. Be-
sides, such connections have always been
sought and found ; they are the means by
which great families live and perpetuate
themselves. For instance, a king of
France, Charles the Simple, married his
daughter Gissel to one Rollo, a mere vag-
abond chieftain, proving thereby that he
was not so simple as history would like to
make him appear. And, quite recently, a
soldier of fortune married a daughter of the
CfBsars. Your marriage with Stamply will
have a good effect in the country ; people
will see that we are not rmgrateful ; they
wUl say that we have recognized a good
precedent ; and, for my part, when, here-
after, I shall meet, face to face, the soul of
my old fiirmer, I declare that it will not be
particularly disagreeable to me to be able
to announce to that honest old man that
his probity met with a reward in this world,
and that our two families now consti-
tute but one. And it would carry joy to
the heart of the good man, for he adored

1850.]

MUIe de La Seiglure.

you, Helen. Didn't he sometimes call you
Lis daughter ? Faith ! he may have been
a prophet. Eh.?"

The INTarquis went on in this strain for
a quarter of an hour, displaying, to over-
come the repugnance of his daughter, all
his resources of craft, diplomacy, and
adroitness, which he had learned in the
school of the baroness, when Helen, by a
sudden movement, sprang from his arms
and flew from the room like a bird, leaving

her father, with a half finished sentence in
his mouth, gazins; after her as she rushed
over the green lawns of the park and hid
herself among the shrubbery.

After she had fairly escaped from his
sight: — "Perhaps," ruminated the Mar-
quis, rubbing his forehead with a thought-
ful air, " perhaps, — it may be, — my daugh-
ter loves the hussar. That she will marry
him, is not so clear ; but that she loves him
— ventre-saint-gris /"

To he Continued.

Angling.

[Jan.

ANGLING.*

We liavc often boon impressed with the
truthfulness of Washington Irving 's charm-
ing sketch, " The Angler," in which he
depicts a party of gentlemen inoculated
with a mania for the gentle craft, by the
reading of old Isaak Walton, who, after
whipping the stream with the most approved
tackle for hours without success, had the
mortification of seeing a ragged mx-hin, with
a crooked pole, homespun line and miserable
hook — one who had never dreamed of hon-
est Isaak — take out a noble string of trout.

It is even so : all the reading and fine
tackle in the world will never make an
angler if angler he be not by nature — pis-
cator nascitur non Jit — angler must he be
born, not made — or he is guilty of a sad
waste of time and patience in meddling
with rod and line. It were for wiser and
better for him to follow the advice of Frank-
lin, and angle in the market-house with a
silver hook.

We were born an angler ; the passion
grew with our growth and strengthened
with our strength. The fatifj-ues, danrrers,
and misadventures ever incident to the
sport, have never for one moment deterred
us, although we have had our share of
them. A drenching shower is as common
to us as sunshine — in fact, we rather affect
moist weather — and an upset has become
of so ordinary occurrence that we are not
sure but that it is rather a disappointment
to us than otherwise when we are not ac-
commodated with one. Some of these af-
fairs are ludicrous in the extreme, and oth-
ers not unattended with danger. One that
happened upon one of those small lakes, or
rather large ponds, so common in Connect-
icut, combined the two in a singular manner.
Upon the lake aforesaid we had ven-
tured in quest of perch and pickerel ; the
craft which we had chartered deserved ra-
ther the title of a bos than a boat — one of

those rambling, wabbling, flat-bottomed,
leaky concerns, that men who have never
seen salt water in their lives, fasten togeth-
er somehow, and then dignify with the title
of skiff. However, as this skiff, or " dug-
out," or whatever may be its proper ortho-
graphic representative, was the only craft
that floated upon the bosom of the pond,
right glad were we to charter it — it being
" the end of haying," at which time all the
men and boys of the country round are apt
to break bounds, and devote one day to a
frolic, or as they term it, " have a good
fish."

Our crew consisted of ourselves — mas-
ter, cockswain, and commander in general —
with three youngsters, all tyros and under
our instruction and guidance.

The day was fine, the fish apparently
blessed with a prodigious appetite, and soon
a goodly number of golden-sided perch
were flapping about the bottom of the boat,
wearing out their scales in useless efforts to
effect an escape, making themselves partic-
ularly disagreeable, and conducting gener-
ally in a very scaly manner. While we
were enjoying ourselves vastly, and filling
our boat, a number of very stalwart look-
ing worthies made their appearance, rod in
hand, and commenced a series of vitupera-
tive remarks, directed to the occupants of
the boat. Their language was, to say the
least, decidedly ungentlemanly, and being
coupled with some words about " pounding
our heads" and throwing us overboard, we
concluded that our wisest course was to up
anchor, and put water enough between us
to prevent their swimming out and perform-
ing their threats.

We crossed the pond and fi.shed awhile,
when they again made their appearance ;
then off we posted and improved the op-
portunity, until again forced to quit. This
game went on until some time after noon,

I. Frank Foresler's Fish and Fishing of the United States and British Provinces of North America,
By William Henry HERnERT. New York. 18.50.

II. The American Anglcr^s Guide, a Complete Fisheis Manual for the United States: By John J.
Brown. New York. 1850.

1850.]

Angling.

311

when two of the youngsters — cither being
moved thereto by compunctions of con-
science or of the stomach, either affrighted
or enhnngered — insisted upon being land-
ed. We again crossed the pond, and hav-
ing thus put a mile and a half of bad walk-
ing between us and our insatiate adversa-
ries, ran the boat to shore : and having dis-
charged the tyros, began very quietly and
complacently to string the fish for them to
carry home, not dreaming of danger. But lo,
and behold, just as this interesting occupation
was about being completed, we heard a shout,
and raising our head, saw that the foe was
upon us. The cove in which we were lay-
ing was full of old trees, sunk in fifteen feet
water, with an occasional head protruding
above the surface. So, pushing the boat
from the shore, we placed our oar against
one of these timber-heads, and giving a
violent shove, away went our craft with a
velocity to which she was little accustomed.
As we dropped the oar, a noble pickerel
broke water immediately before us, and,
seizing the rod, we leaped from the stern
to the middle seat, and thence upon the
bow. Unfortunate precipitation ! At the
moment our feet touched the bow, the boat
struck, bounded back toward the shore,
and we — we went in.

No mortal man hath seen a prettier
dive. Our broad brunmed hat deserted
our head, and we with a tremendous impe-
tus, with our hands before us, prepared to
cleave the waves in the most approved style
of modern bathing, launched into the
treacherous deep. In a moment we were
at the bottom, to the great discomposui-e of
sundry quiet families of perch and roach,
whose domestic precincts we thus uncere-
moniously invaded, and whose domestic
economy we thus incontinently disturbed.
An Indian diver after orient pearls, could
not have done the thing better. The
whole affair was so sudden that there was
no time for alarm upon our part. Our on-
ly thought as we went down, and as we
came up — for men think under water as
well as above it — was of the supremely ri-
diculous mode of our submersion. And in
the place of a cry for help, when our head
did pop up above the surface, a very res-
pectable laugh, considering the amount of
water mixed with it, was the only sound to
which we gave utterance. The remaining
lad in the boat, was making a very vigo-

VOL. V. NO. I. NEW SERIES.

rous but futile series of efforts to paddle af-
ter our hat, perhaps laboring under the
erroneous impression that our head was
somewhere in its vicinity, which, as the hat
as well as its master Avas capsized, seemed
rather improbable. We swam to the boat,
and finding it impo.^sible to get in, swam it
to land ; then, making a very low bow to
our persevering friends upon the shore,
peaceably resigned the command of the
lake marine, and made the best of our way
homeward, dripping like a sea-god — or
rather a fresh-water nymph.

Not a whit daunted by this adventure,
or by many others of similar nature were
we; but, from that day until the present
writing, have continued to wage a ceaseless
and tireless war upon every thing that wears
fins — and in all manners and styles that
might prove most efficacious, without paus-
ing to consider whether they were sports-
men-like or not. We have taken the ene-
my through the ice ; we have tickled them
to their destruction ; we have turned them
out upon the grass by shifting the course
of brooks ; we have netted them, and
seined them, and speared them; and form-
ed an acquaintance with nearly every spe-
cies that inhabit our waters. Everythino-
is fish that comes to our net — unlike the
western gentleman that v/ent a " catting ;"
went a " catting !" and upon that principle,
having taken a fine trout, threw him back
again into the stream.

Speaking of catfish reminds us of an ad-
venture, or rather train of adventures,
which once befel us in our efforts to cap-
ture one of those huge denizens of the west-
ern waters ; and, as we might as well make
a clean breast of it at once, we will now
weave it into a modest tale or sketch, un-
der the title of

OUR ADVENTURES IN SEARCH OF A CAT

FISH WITH PARTICULAR ADVICE AND

DIRECTIONS HOW NOT TO COOK ONE
WHEN CAUGHT.

It was in the first youth of one of the
last born sisters of our Union, who, after a
misalliance with a Mexican, which greatly
annoyed and distressed her friends, termi-
nated the affiiir by scratching his eyes out,
taking forcible possession of all the prop-
erty, both real and personal, upon which
she could lay her hands, kicking the would
3

Angling.

[Jan.

be lord and master unceremoniously and
incontinently out of doors, and then, like
a good child, coming home again, and get-
tins her friends to fieht out the battle for
her. As we before said, it was in the
younger days of our younger state, that the
adventure, or series of adventures, occur-
red which we are about to relate.

In consequence of a certain roving dis-
position, " cupidus^'''' as Cicero hath it,
'■'■ ner varum rcrum^'' we found ourselves
located and domiciled in the family of one

Joe H , a regular back-woodsman, a

capital hunter, and a decided character,
with nothing in particular to do, except to
amuse ourselves as best we might.

Had Joe been a Gothamite, — " to the
manor born" — his genius and inclination
would have led him to Wall-street, for he
was " great" upon speculation, usually
spending one third of his time in expedi-
tions " up coimtry" in search of a silver
mine ; another third, hunting bee trees,
and taking possession ; and the greater part
of the remainder in studying how to get
a living without work.

But, alas, Joe had never heard of " bulls"
without horns, nor ever dreamed of meet-
ing a " bear" unless there was mischief
"^rwm." The labor of a few days suf-
ficed to make his somewhat scanty crop ;
a few more, gathered his stock of cattle,
and left him the rest of the year to follow
the bent of his inclination, which, without
being what may be technically described as
" crooked," nevertheless had as many
twists and ramifications as the horn of a
veteran of the flock and fold.

The last silver mine speculation had, as
usual, proved unfortunate. He had spent
six months in vainly searching the banks of
the Upper " Trinity," for the much cov-
eted treasure, barely escaped starvation
and scalping by the Indians, returned home
not particularly burthened with clothing,
with the little that remained of a decidedly
multifarious and forlorn character, for his
tailoring had been of the rudest, somewhat
approaching the Adam and Eve style of the
art. His tobacco, coifee, and ammunition,
the three sine qua nons^ were nearly ex-
pended, and so he set his brain to work to
find, — or invent, — some plan for a further
supply. These, to a frontier man, are,
strictly speaking, the indispensables — for a
small patch of cotton, and an industrious

wife, provide his clothing — or, if neces-
sary, the rifle is called into requisition for
a buck skin. A small patch of corn sup-
plies his bread, and for meat, almost all
are provided with a stock of cattle, or
drove of hogs, and if not, the universal
rifle is again summoned into the field. A
wolf skin, or the nearest palmetto brake,
furnishes him with hats, and a raw hide
or deer skin, with a covering for his feet.
So that if this be not a life of genuine,
though too often lazy, independence, we
know not the correct interpretation of the
term.

Within four miles of Joe's cabin, through
a thicket so dense that even in that coun-
try of tangled forest it was known as the
" big thicket," ran the San Jacinto, a
stream where water, pure and pellucid,
traverses the finest timber in the world,
and, according to Joe's account, were pat-
ronized by an extensive variety of very su-
perior fish. Now the fish part of the
business was put in as a magnet to attract
me, for Joe himself was the only man iu
the settlement who had ventured to explore
the tangled maze.

Joe's brain had generated a prodigious
idea, worthy, at least, of the immortal Jack
Tibbets, and the sum of it was, to go to
Houston and pick up a score or so of dis-
banded volunteers that were hanging
around the town, with whom to enter into
an extensive lumber operation, in the stave
and shingle line. According to his calcu-
lation, a fortune was to be realized in a
very short time ; but having had some ex-
perience of his vagaiies, we determined to
reason the matter with him, and try an
experiment ere we plunged blindly into a
serious matter.

Reason he would not hear ; he had
thought the matter over to his satistiiction ;
but the experhiient he finally agreed to try
— and thus the compromise was ultimately
settled. We were first to spend a month
in the " timber," — Joe as master-workman
and director in general — ourselves as occa-
sional assistant in the shingling business,
and fisherman in ordinary, attached to the
commissariat department.

This plan was perfectly satisfactory to
us, for one month we knew was sufiicient to
give a quietus to any of Joe's plans which
included personal exertions upon his own
part ; and, in truth, we had heard so much

1850.]

Angling.

S§

of the fish that a desire had seized us to
capture and taste of them.

Oui' first excursion, or rather incursion,
was made simply and solely as a voyage of
discovery. Our only sure guide to the
spot was the fact that some two miles down
the prarie ran, or perhaps more often stood,
a hai/oUy which crossed it on its way to the
river, and three miles above us was a " ma-
rais," or slough, which, according to our
friend Joe's account, changed into a
" branch ;" then running through a cypress
brake or two, finally assumed the form of a
palmetto swamp, and in that guise joined
the river. Now these two land, or rather
water marks, after sundry and divers con-
tortions and gyrations, ultimately converged
and nearly met. So that all we had to do
was to keep the bayou upon the right hand
and the swamp on the left — a modern ver-
sion of Scylla and Charybdis — and with the
aid of patience, a huge hack knife, Joe's
wood crop, and extreme good luck, we
might, barring accidents and the over-
clouding of the sun, finally hope to attain
the point proposed.

There was, to be sure, a kind of path,
rather a mythological affair, supposed to
have been originally marked out by some
old party of surveyors, partly kept open by
cattle, where the thicket was not very dense,
and, occasionally, in other parts by such of
the " varmint" as could crawl through the
cane and under the briars, so that now and
then a remnant was visible ; but as both
ends were totally blotted out of existence,
and only a few marks where it had been
remained, it was, if anything, rather worse
than useless.

The first part of our journey was effect-
ed on horseback ; but after proceeding
about half a mile into the "timber," this
mode of progression was suddenly brought
to a period by the dense undergrowth, and
we were reduced to a very natural and
primitive style of locomotion.

The spot had been aptly named the " big
thicket." Immense bamboo briars, like
vegetable laocoons, twined and intertwined,
crossed and recrossed from tree to tree and
shrub to shrub, forming a natural treUis-
work for the thousand and one wild and beau-
tiful vines that abounded there. The pas-
sion vine, with its singular flower and
luscious frmt ; the cypress vine, with its
dazzling gem-like blossoms, whose form is

said to have suggested the pentagonal star
of the Texan flag; the morning-glory,
trebling in size and beauty the stunted,
dwarfish thing found in our northern gar-
dens, and an innumerable host of others,
of minor importance clung to them.
Above our heads, the gigantic, wax-like
blossoms of the magnificent magnolia
grandiflora shed a perfume rivalling the
lotus, while, from the branches of every
tree, the trumpet creeper, the parasite, par
excellence, of the vegetable kingdom, wa-
ved her crimson cuniform flowers. Birds of
showy plumage and joyous voices — the
dandy paroquet — the log-cock, with his
gaudy head dress — the dusky mocking-
bird, whose imitative but inimitable song
more than compensates for his Quaker at-
tire— were flitting to and fro, hopping from
twig to twig, so carelessly and unconcerned
that it was very evident they were seldom
troubled with a visit of the fell destroyer,
man.

We had now to contend for every step
we gained ; knife and hatchet were in con-
stant requisition, and for one hour we pass-
ed on in Indian file as best we might. Joe
now announced the discovery of a tree,
which he recognized as one that grew near
the neglected trail, and toward it we made
our way. On reaching it we found it truly
near something that might have been a
trail or might have been a rabbit-path, and
which led us in a few moments into a cane
brake, where the rank cane grew in wild
luxuriance, thick, according to Joe, as the
" hars on a dog." Joe said, " he allowed
this wouldn't pay," for we had certainly
stumbled into the slough, which formed
our southern boundary ; and so off we start-
ed in the opposite dii-ection. Unfortu-
nately, while following our trail, the sun
became obscured ; and we had been so busy
cutting our way, and keeping in the path,
that we had neglected to take an observation
of any of the prominent trees ahead of us.

The back-woodsman's compass, the
black and rough bark upon the north side
of trees, failed, for so thoroughly defended
were they by the deep thicket, that the bit-
ter northers seemed to have produced no
effect. Under these circumstances it was,
perhaps, not in the least surprising that,
after floundering about a while in the bush,
we found ourselves in an immense and
gloomy cypress brake. , .

Angling.

[Jan.

Reader, did you ever see a cypress
brake ? if not, you have yet one nameless
horror to experience — your first feelings
upon beholding one. The brake is always
upon low groimd, or rather in a swale,
which, duiing the rainy season, is filled
with water ; but the one into which we
had stumbled was perfectly dry, excepting
here and there a puddle, containing rather
more mud than water, and densely popu-
lated with the most vile of reptiles, the
moccasin snake, who had congregated there
in great numbers.

The ground was perfectly bare, fibrous,
and free from any thing like grass or veg-
etation, save an occasional cluster of rank
and noxious vines, of a sickening, deadly
green. From this drear abode arose the
trunk of many a huge cypress, shooting up its
straight and living shaft, far, far above our
heads, seeming almost to pierce the clouds,
and, at a great height, outstretching its
spectral arms clad and draped with the
fatal moss, which lives, and feeds, and
thrives only upon the malaria and vapors
of the most deadly kind. No settler
builds his cabin near the spot where its
sombre curtain is seen waving to and fro,
but shuns it as a sure token of the pres-
ence of pestilence and death.

Around the foot of every tree a number
of those singular conical-shaped shoots,
termed needles, are standing, resembling so
many grave stones ; and slowly crawling
among them, or lying stupid and sullen,
with its mouth wide agape, is ever found
the filthy moccasin. No token gives he
of his presence, like the tocsin of the chiv-
alrous rattlesnake, but should you ap-
proach too near you would soon feel his
deadly fang, more fatal even than those of
the latter. He is the most hateful of his
kind, a truculent coward, and never, save
in one solitary instance have we known
him to offer an attack, or even resist one
in any other manner than by slinking hiss-
ingly away.

To our surpise, Joe seemed quite satisfied
that he had fallen in with the swamp. His
reasons however, were good — for said he,
" this is either a part of the slough, and if
so, must be near the river, or it joins the
bayou, and if this be the case, we cannot
be far from it either, for the slough and
the bayou do not approach each other un-
til very near it." Out of the brake we

scrambled, intending to make our way
between the two obstacles, but we had not
proceeded far when the sun made his ap-
pearance, shining, to my astonishment, not
in our faces, but upon our backs. Joe,
however, nothing daunted, merely mutter-
ed something about having taken the
" back track," and then wheeling about,
with the sun for his pilot, guided us di-
rectly to the river.

A more beautiful stream never gladdened
our eyes ; running over a bed of pebble and
rock, between shelving banks of glistening
sand, white as the unsullied snow flake, it
resembled rather one of our northern
streams than anything of the kind we had
before seen in the south.

In a deep pool immediately beneath us
however, a half-grown alligator floating
lazily upon the surface, and the occasional
flash of the fins and tail of that shark of
the fresh water, the gar, assured us of the
southern locality.

Strong was the temptation to cast a line
into the blue depths below, but alas the
means and appliances were wanting. The
day was Sunday, and Joe, although far from
a bigot, was a very aristocrat in his feel-
ings, and had put a decided veto upon ta-
king with us any tackle for fishing.

He was not, he said, " sot up about Sun-
day ; but huntin' and fishin' on that day
was clear nigger, and went agin him," so
we dropped the subject.

After strolling down the stream, and se-
lecting an eligible spot for our camp, we
returned, and although we lost our way
again — which by the by we never after fail-
ed of doing, either in going in or coming
out of the bush — yet, at length arriving
safely at the spot where our horses were tied
out, mounted them and soon reached
home.

During the evening we thought of no-
thing but the fish ; our dreams that night
were full of them, and we awoke next
morning with a firm and fixed determina-
tion that come what might that day would
we cast our line into the crystal waters of
the San Jacinto.

Joe, for a wonder, had something to do,
and after advising us to abandon the idea
of visiting the river alone, finally submit-
ted, saying that there was nothing like
learning after all, and gave us the best ad-
vice and direction in his power.

1850.]

Angling.

At an early hour of a bright morning
did we set forth upon our mad-cap expedi-
tion, and after some three or four hours
of vigorous exertion, found ourselves hea-
ven knows where. The thicket seemed to
grow more dense at every step, until at
last we reached something that resembled
a new made path. The thick tall cane
had been trampled and crushed so that for
a time we made famous headway. As we
were pressing onward, a rattling of cane
caught our ears, and peering into the
thicket,, we saw something that we were
convinced at a glance must be either a
clergyman, a chimney sweep, or a bear,
and as there was not the slightest proba-
bility of either of the former gentry being
in such a latitude, we conjectured, and
rightly, that it must be no less a personage
than his eminence Sir Bruin himself. At the
identical moment when we made the disco-
very, our friend also had ascertained our
proximity, and not knowing but that we
might be fair game for him, wheeled in his
track, and returned.

Totally unarmed save with a large hack
knife, we stepped aside to a huge tree, and
placing our back against it, awaited his
coming. It was but a moment, the cane
parted, and there he stood, but stood not
long. We have before in our lives made
some noise, yet it was surely but as si-
lence when compared to the yell with
which we greeted him — which of us was
the more alarmed we know not, but the
victory was with us. Bruin with a snort
resembling that of a plethoric specimen
of the porcine genus, in a state of exces-
sive alarm abandoned the field.

Our joy at his departure was much in-
creased by the discovery that the tree where
we stood was upon the bank of the bayou,
which we now determined to keep in sight
until the end and aim of our journey was
attained. In a few minutes we fell in with
a path newly cut in the dense cane, and we
passed onward with renewed vigor.

Presently we came to a tree which bore
BO striking a resemblance to the one which
stood upon the scene of the bear's stam-
pede, that we paused to look at it, but re-
membering that it was no phenomenon to
find two similar trees in the forest, we re-
sumed our course.

After the lapse of a short interval, we
passed a third, then a fourth, and finally a

fifth tree, all alike, and for the first time
the many tales we had heard of lost trav-
ellers moving round and round in a circle,
from which there seemed no escape, flashed
upon our mind.

But no ; this might not be, we had kept
the banks of the bayou on our right, and
must be going down stream. However, for
our satisfaction, we determined to mark the
tree with a "blaze" — did so, and went
on. In a short time our vegetable " old
man of the sea" again hove in sight, and
upon examination, there was the " blaze"
we had so lately cut.

It was perfectly inexplicable. Had we
gone mad } Was this some illusion of the
senses } We thought, and with a shudder
of a certain old, withered, parchment-faced
African negress, a privileged character in
Joe's settlement, whoso hitherto undisputed
claims to the possession of magic power
we had seen fit to call into question, and
ridicule, only the previous evening, to the
manifest alarm of the listeners.

A moment's reficction, however, banished
all this, and laughing at our singular situ-
ation, we determined coute qui coute^ to
escape from this modern labyrinth. Down
the precipitate banks of the bayou we
dashed, .and made our way now upon
one side of the nearly dried up stream,
now upon the other, and now in the shal-
low water. Once more, and for the last
time, our tree was seen, we passed it, and
the mystery was solved. It appears we
had stumbled upon a peninsula formed by
the bayou's doubling upon itself. The en-
trance was but a step from bank to bank,
and when once in, our chance of finding
our way out by the same isthmus was but
small. By the time we reached the river,
the sun was declining, and the threatening
clouds warned us to make the best of our
way homeward. Without any very serious
mishap we arrived in safety, perfectly sa-
tisfied with our exploit, and willing in fu-
ture to await Joe's motions.

At last behold us fairly located upon the
banks of the river, where Joe had selected
a fine hard shingle beach upon which to
pitch our camp. The said camp was an
extemporaneous afiair, a kind of al fresco
home, formed by setting up a few crotchets
to sustain a rude roof of undressed shin-
gles, there known as boards, supported
upon diminutive rafters of cane.

Angling.

[Jan.

This clone, a cypress suitable for a canoe,
or " dug out," was selected, and in two
days shaped, hollowed out, and launched.
Fairly embarked now in the business, I
found but little difficulty in obtaining a sup-
ply of the green trout, and divers other
kinds of river fish ; but the huge " cats,''
where were they ? We fished at early
morn and dewy eve, before the light had
faded out from the stars of morning, and
after dame nature had donned her noctur-
nal mantle — all was vain.

Joe counselled patience, and remarked
that the larger species never run but dur-
ing a rise or fall in the river, and must
then be fished for at night.

One morning heavy clouds in the north,
and the sound of distant thunder, informed
us that a storm was in progress near the
head waters of our stream. Our rude
tackle was looked after, and bait prepared
in anticipation of the promised fish, which
the perturbed waters of the river were to
incite to motion.

Night came, and we left for a spot which
we were sure the " cats" must frequent ; a
deep dark hole, immediately above a sedgy
flat. Our patience and perseverance at
length met with their reward. We felt
something very carefully examining the
bait, and at last tired of waiting for the
bite, struck with force.

We had him, a huge fellow too ; back-
wards and forwards he dashed, up and
down, in and out ; no fancy tackle had we,
but plain and trustworthy — at least so we
fondly imagined.

At last we had trailed the gentleman
upon the sedge, and were upon the eve of
wading in and securing him, when a splash
in the water which threw it in every direc-
tion, announced that something new had
turned up, and away went we, hook and
line, into the black hole below. At this
moment our tackle parted ; the robber,
whether alligator or gar we know not, dis-
appeared with our scarce captured prey,
and we crawled out upon the bank in a
blessed humor.

Our fishing was finished for the evening ;
but regaining the tackle as best we might,
casting the line again into the pool, and
fixing the pole firmly in the knot-hole of a
fallen tree, we abandoned it to fish upon
its own hook.

When we arose in the morning, a chUl

cold norther was blowing fiercely, and the
river had risen in the world during our
slumber. The log to which our pole had
formed a temporary attachment had taken
its departure for parts unknown, and was
in all human probability at that moment
making an experimental voyage on account
of " whom it may concern."

The keen eyes of Joe, who had been
peering up and down the river, however,
discovered something on the opposite side
that bore a strong resemblance to the miss-
ing pole, and when the sun had fairly risen
we found that there it surely was, and
moreover its bowing to the water's edge,
and subsequent straightening up, gave
proof that a fish was fast to the line.

The northern blast blew shrill and cold :
the ordinarily gentle current of the river
was now a mad torrent, lashing the banks
in fury, and foaming over the rocks and
trees, that obstructed its increased volume.

Joe and ourselves looked despairingly at
each other and shook our heads in silence
and in sorrow.

Yet there was the pole waving to and
fro at times when the fish would repeat his
efforts to escape ; it was worse than the cup
of Tantalus, and bearing it as long as we
could, we prepared for a plunge in the
maddened stream. One plunge satisfied
us ; we were thrown back upon the shore,
cold and dispirited.

During the entire day there stood and
swung to and fro the wretched pole, now
upright as an orderly sergeant, now bend-
ing down, and fairly kissing the waters at
its feet.

The sight we bore until flesh and blood
could no more endure. The sun had sunk
to rest ; the twilight was fading away, and
the stars were beginning to peep out from
their sheltering places enquiringly, as if to
know why the night came not on, when
we, stung to the soul, determined at any
hazard to dare the venture.

Wringino; Joe's hand, who shook his head
very dubiously, up the stream bent we our
course, untU we reached a point some dis-
tance above, from which the current pass-
ing dashed with violence against the bank,
shot directly over to the very spot where
waved and wagged our wretched rod, crib-
bed by the waters, and cabined and con-
fined among the logs.

We plunged in ; and swift as arrow from

1850.]

Angling.

the bow, the water hurried us on, a com-
panion to its mad career. The point was
almost gained, when a shout from Joe call-
ed our attention to the pole : alas, the fish
was gone, and the line was streaming out
in the fierce wind.

That night were we avenged ; a huge cat
was borne home in triumph. How we took
it, or where, it matters not ; for having em-
ployed so much time in narrating how we
did not, we have none remaining to tell
how we did.

The next point was to decide as to cook-
ing him. Joe advised a barbecue. A fine
fellow he said like that, with two inches of
yellow fat upon his back bone, would make
a noble feast. Let not the " two inches
of fat" startle the incredulous reader, for
we have heard that in that country of lean
swine, cat fish are used to fry bacon in.

" We cooked him that night, and we cooked

him next day,
And we cooked him in vain, until both passed

away."

He would not be cooked, and was in fact
worse, and not half so honest as a worthy
old gander, once purchased by a very in-
nocent friend of ours, that was found to
contain in its maw a paper embracing both
his genealogy and directions with reference
to the advisable mode of preparing him for
the table ; of which all that we remember
was, that parboiling for sixteen days was
warmly recommended.

Sixteen days parboiling we are convinced
would but have rendered our friend the
tougher. We tried him over a hot fire,
and a slow one — we smoked him, singed
him, in fact tried all methods in vain, and
finally consigned him again to the waters.

The moral of our tale, dear reader, is
simply this. Waste not your precious
time in taking cats, but if taken, dream
not of barbecuing them, but return them
unsinged to the stream, and so shall a great
waste of time and patience be spared. But
to proceed more seriously.

There is probably no part of the world
whose waters teem with the finny tribe as do
those that bound or intersect the northern
portion of the west^^rn continent ; and yet
until very lately they have been almost to-
tally neglected by the icthyologist and
naturalist. A Dr. Smith has compiled an
account of the fish of his own state, Mas-

sachusetts. Dr. De Kay has given us the
Fauna of the State of New York. De-
witt Clinton and Dr. Mitchell contributed
much valuable and scientific information
upon the subject; yet the whole ground,
or anything approaching it, has never even
been attempted to be covered until the is-
sue of Mr. J. J. Browne's practical, and
Mr. Herbert's scientific work.

A man may be an able ichthyologist, and
yet not a successful angler, or mutatis mu-
tandis^ a successful angler, and yet be ig-
norant of the scientific names and correct
classification of his prey — and a careful
examination of the two works before us
has induced the belief that ]\Ir. Brown is
a thorough angler, and IVIr. Herbert a
correct naturalist, and yet that each is the
other's inferior in that other's particular
forte.

To compose a perfect work, or rather
one approaching perfection, an author
should possess both qualifications in an emi-
nent degree ; but as perfection is never to
be expected, at least not in initiatory at-
tempts, we should receive thankfully and
without undue cavilling, such knowledge
as we may obtain, and point out those er-
rors that may meet oiu- eye, not with the
severe tone of caustic criticisiu, but with
the kindly feeling of one who has received
a benefit, and knowing at what expense of
time and labor, to the giver addresses a
word of mild advice.

In truth here is but little ground for
cavilling, as both works are deserving of
commendation, and are not only instructive
but amusing.

The half a life devoted to the fishing om'
waters from the great northern Lakes to
the Gulf of Mexico, with the interstices,
such as wet and wintry days, filled up with
the examination and comparison of speci-
mens, would not more than prepare an
author to thoroughly discuss the subject.
He must be a scholar, have not only read,
but carefully studied all that has been writ-
ten upon the subject, from Dame Joanna
Berners, a piscatorial petticoat of the fif-
teenth century, to Yarrel and Agassiz ; an
excellent draughtsman, a practical and
pleasing writer, a thorough naturalist, a
man of fortune — for his reward will be
fame ; and one of iron constitution to en-
able him to bear the exposures incident to
his occupation.

Angling.

[Jan.

With all of these qualifications, and a
sufficient love for science to induce him to
bestow the best years of his life upon one
subject, he may succeed in perfecting a
work, with regard to whose merits envy
herself shall be dumb.

In the meanwhile, until some such self-
denying public -spirited individual can be
found, let us gratefully receive such light
as may be given us, until a thorough sifting
of all that has been written north, south,
east, and west, shall enable us to arrive at
truth.

Mr. Herbert, whose work we shall first
notice, thus commences his subject :

" To deal widi a subject so wide as the
Fish and Fishing of an extent of country,
greater than the whole of Europe, stretcliing
almost from tlie Arctic Circle to the tropics,
from the waters of the Atlantic to those
of the Pacific Ocean, may seem, and indeed is,
in some respects, a bold and presumptuous
undertaking. It were so altogether, did I pre-
tend to enter into tlie natural history of ail or
even one hundredth part of the fish peculiar
to this continent and its adjacent seas.

'^ Such however, is by no means my aim or
intention. I write for the sportsman ; and it is
therefore with the sporting fish only that I
propose to deal ; as, in a recent work of the
field sports of the same region, it was with
the game animals only I had to do. In the
prefatory observations of that work I endeav-
ored to make myself understood as to what
constitutes game, in my humble opinion as
regards animals of fur and feather. I did
not, it is true, expect or even hope to suit the
views and notions of everybody, particularly
when I looked to the great variety of soils,
regions, and climates for the inliabitants of
which I w^as writing ; and to the extreme la-
titude and longitude of ideas concerning
sportsmanship which prevail in this country.

" One would suppose it was sufficiently evi-
dent that a work of the magnitude of the
Universal Encyclopaedia, and nothing short of
that, would suffice to give an elaborate essay
and disquisition on every separate sort of
sport which every separate individual of every
separate state in the Union may think proper
to practice for his own pleasure and profit.

" And before I proceed farther, I shall beg
gentlemen from remote sections of the north,
east, west, and south, not to wax wrathful
and patriotically indignant, nor to reclaim
(query, declaim ?) fiercely against the author of
this work, because they fail to find therein
described some singular specimen of the pis-
cine race, known in their own districts, and

there regarded as a sporting fish, but unknown
as such to the world at large."

Having thus started upon the broad ba-
sis that he will not reproduce the fable of
" The Old Man and his Ass," in his work,
we have surely no right to find fault with
such distinctions and divisions as he — an
author upon new and almost unbroken
ground — chooses to draw.

As " Game Fish," Mr. Herbert recog-
nizes all those who " will take the natural
bait with sufficient boldn«ss and avidity,
and which, when hooked, are endowed
with sufficient vigor, courage, and rapidity
of motion, to offl9r so much resistance, and
give so much difficulty to the captor, as to
render the pursuit exciting and agreeable,
apart from any consideration of the intrin-
sic value of the fish."

A question might here arise as to wheth-
er Mr. H. may not have gone too far in
this last clause, for, without producing above
one case in point, we will name the "gar"
as a fish that possesses all the above named
qualifications, and yet is only mentioned
once — as the gar-pike — and that in a very
disparaging manner. According to our au-
thor, the "game fish" of this country are
divided into two general classes, the fresh
and the salt water fishes ; and these again
subdivided : the fresh as migratory, and
non-migratory ; the salt, into deep-sea and
shoal water. Mr. H., however, seems ra-
ther unwilling to admit the deep-sea fishes
to such honorable society, although grant-
ing that much sport is to be had in the
capture of the cod, &c., especially when
such capture is the prelude to a chowder
party.

With regard to the cod, he perhaps may
be deemed as too serious a subject to be
made game of. A fish, to which almost
the entire population of the eastern states
owe two meals each week, is surely entitled
to serious consideration. The day upon
which the feasts of codfish are held are dif-
ferent in the different towns and states, but
each town has its own particular time. In
New Haven, for instance, Saturday is set
apart for this interesting duty. We are
not aware of the existence of any law upon
the subject — at least no legislative or cor-
porative enactment — the law of habit, how-
ever, rules supreme.

We beg the coui-teous reader not to dis-

1850.]

Angling.

credit the plain and unvarnislied facts re-
garding this custom which we are about to
relate. A very staid and worthy old gen-
tleman resided iu the aforesaid city, whom
a successful mercantile career of more than
thirtyyears had placed in independent, if not
affluent circumstances, but through either
custom or a desire to add to his already ample
store, he still continued his business and his
ante -prandial visits to the counting-room.
One morning the good wife had postponed
the matutinal meal in consequence of his
absence, until that rare and valuable thing
in a woman — her patience — was well nigh
exhausted. At last, however, he made his
appearance ; and without any apology for
his tardiness, but looking especially glum,
and out of humor, he sat him down to eat.
A cup of coflPee, however, partially restored
him, and opening his mouth he spake :

" Most extraordinary circumstance, most
extraordinary !"

" Why, what do you mean, my dear .?"
demanded the lady.

" Mean } Here have I had to open the
store with my own hands, and after sitting
in the door a fidl hour, waiting for my boys,
not one of them made his appearance, and
I was forced to close the store again to
come to breakfast !"

" Heavens !" exclaimed the lady, with
unfeigned horror; "You have not been
to the store ? Why it's Svmday .^"

"Sunday.?" returned he, "Sunday.?
impossible, madam, we did not have cod-
fish for dinner yesterday .'"

The description and account of the fami-
ly of Salmonidae forms a large and interest-
ing portion of the work. In the chapter
devoted to the true salmon, Salmo Salar^
we find some excellent hints upon the sub-
ject of transporting the young of the kind,
and some very curious information respect-
ing them.

Mr. Herbert has no faith in the gener-
ally received opinion that steamboats have
caused the expulsion of the salmon from
many of our rivers, such as the Hudson
and Connecticut. He reasons, that were
this the case, the Tay, Tweed, and Clyde,
in Scotland, would suffer the same depriva-
tion, and thinks it far more likely that the
waters are poisoned by the sawdust — espe-
cially that of the hemlock — ^from the nu-
merous mills that were once in operation
upon the streams. As the timber upon

many of them has been now cut, he thinks
it a very easy matter to again stock them
with the noble fish. W^ith regard to the
experiments we quote :

" Mr. Shaw, it seems, caused three ponds
to be made, of different sizes, at about fifty
yards distance from a salmon river, the Erith ;
the pond being supplied bv a stream of spring
water, well furnished with the larvae of in-
sects. The average temperature of the water
in the rivulet was rather higher and less va-
riable than of that in the river ; otherwise the
circumstances of the ova contained in the
ponds, and of the young fry produced there-
from, were precisely similar to those of the
spawn and fry in the river. These ponds
were all two feet deep, with well-gravelled
bottoms, the highest pond eighteen feet by
twenty-two, the second eighteen by twenty-
five, the third thirty by fifty.

" Observing two salmon, male and female,
in the river, preparing to deposite their spawn,
Mr. Shaw prepared in the shingle, by the
stream's edge, a small trench, through which
he directed a stream of water from the river,
and at the lower extremity of the trench placed
a large earthenware basin to receive the ova.
This done, by means of a hoop net he secured
the two fish which he had observed, and
placing the female while alive, in the trench,
forced her, by gentle pressure of her body, to
deposite her ova in the trench. The male fish
was then placed in the same position, and a
quantity of the milt being pressed from liis
body passed down the stream and thoroughly
impregnated the ova, which were then trans-
ferred to the basin and thence to the small
stream which fed the upper pond, where they
were covered up in the gravel as usual. The
temperatiu'e of the stream was 40o, that of
the river 36*^. The skins of the salmon were
preserved in order to prevent the possibility of
doubt or cavilling concerning the species.
The male fish, when taken, weighed sixteen,
the female eight pounds.

" The result was, that the young fish were
hatched, as I have stated in the scale above
given. When first emerging from the mem-
brane in which it had been enclosed, with the
yolk adhering to the abdomen, the young fry
is as it was shown in No. 1 of the cut refer-
red to above. The yolk is absorbed in twen-
ty-seven days, after which the yoimg fish re-
quire nourishment.

''At the end of two months, the young fish
has attained the length of an inch and a quar-
ter, as represented at No. 2; and at the age of
six months he has grown to the size of three
inches and a quarter, and, except in dimen-
sions, is exactly rendered in No. 3 of the above
cut.

" From these facts we arrive at two conse-

Angling.

[Jan.

quences. First, that the growth of the young
salmon has been greatly overrated ; and, sec-
ondly, that, at a certain period of its life, the
salmon is a parr. The extent to which the
growth of the salmon has been overrated will
be perceived at once, when it is shown that
Dr. Knox, in the paper from which I have
already quoted, states that the fry which
emerged from their capsules on the first of
April were taken, on the 22d of the same
month, in the same year, as smolts, with the
fly, of the size of the little finger."

Although the experiments quoted by us
below refer only to trout, there can be no
manner of doubt but that the mode would
be equally applicable to salmon.

•'His plan of raising trout from the egg
was a very simple one. He had a box made
with a small wire grating at one end in the
corner for admitting water from a fresh source,
or stream, and at the other end of the side of
the box there were a number of holes to allow
the exit of the water; the bottom of the box
was filled with pebbles and gravel of differ-
ent sizes, which were kept covered with water
that was always in motion. In November, or
the beginning of December, when the trout
were in full maturity for spawning, and col-
lected in the river for this purpose upon the
beds of gravel, he caught the males and fe-
males in a net, and by the pressure of his
hands received the ova in a basin of water,
and suffered the melt, seminal fluid, to pass
into the basin, and after they had remained a
few minutes together, he introduced them up-
on the gravel in the box, which was placed
under a source of fresh, cool, and pure water.
In a few weeks the eggs burst, and the box
was filled with an immense number of
young trout, which had a small bag attached
to the lower part of their body, containing a
part of the yolk of the egg, which was still
their nourishment. In this state they were
easily carried from place to place, in confined
portions of fresh water, for some days, requi-
ring apparently no food; but after about a
week, the nourishment in their bag being ex-
hausted, they began to seek their" food in the
water, and rapidly increased in size."

We can see no objection to Mr. Her-
bert's ideas that the salmon may again be
introduced into those streams from which
they have disappeared, now that the cause
of that depopulation has probably ceased,
and perfectly agree with him, that the sub-
ject is worthy of legislative attention and
enactment.

With regard to the Long Island pick-
erelj we imagined that Mr Herbert had

been betrayed into an error ; but not being
willing to array our opinions unsupported
against such authority, we applied to a
brother angler, whom we knew to be au
fait in all the sports of the Island.

In extracting the following from his note,
we would remark that the reason for not
giving the name and locality was, that Dr.

requested their omission, upon the

ground that too great publicity might be
fatal to the sport of one of his favorite re-
sorts.

" At Pond in the vicinity of ,

Long Island, a friend and myself caught,
last April, by trolling, fourteen pickerel,
the average weight of which was four
pounds."

This statement differs widely from that
in the volume before us.

"The Long Island pickerel rarely, if ever,
in these waters, exceed a pound weight, and
that is greatly above the average, which is
probably nearer one half that size." — Fish
and Fishing, p. 161.

We have no space to regularly dissect
this volume, but must speak of it as a
whole. It is admirably got up, and re-
flects great credit for that, not only upon
the publishers, but also upon the author,
who, with unexampled industry, ingenuity,
and versatility of talent, has sketched most
of the illustrations, and drawn them him-
self upon the blocks. Of course, there
are errors ; the book is deficient in South-
ern fish, and the reason probably is, that
Mr. Herbert, not being able to obtain in-
formation which he knew to be authentic,
preferred to remain silent with regard to
many of them. The work contains very
ample directions and instructions for the
fly fisher, and numerous plates of artificial
flies, hooks, and other appliances of the
gentle craft. Wishing the book and its
author all success, we yet hope that this
may be but the precursor of another and
better volume, freed from some few errors
that many of our brethren of the press
have busied themselves in pointing out,
without endeavoring to ascertain the true
merits of the work.

The other volume under oiu- considera-
tion, is the fourth edition of an admirable,
practical work, by a practical man, which
began its career as a small unadorned pock-

1850.]

Anglini

et affair, and has at last attained to the dig-
nity of an octavo.

The preface opens in the unpretending
style which characterizes the work through-
out, but little claim being made by Mr.
Brown to authorship or literary attainments,
the information contained having been de-
rived from the best authorities, both Eng-
lish and American, and from distinguished
anglers, and ichthyologists, with whom his
occupation has brought him in contact.
The first fifty pages of the work are de-
voted to a very minute account of the vari-
ous kinds of tackle, hooks, flies, &c., &c.,
the mode of preparing them, and their use,
of which numerous illustrations are given
throughout the work.

To the trout our author devotes no less
than forty five pages, discussing the sub-
ject in every possible manner. With re-
gard to the weight and size of the fish, he
is at issue with Mr. Herbert, and is of
the opinion that it attains a much larger
size than the latter gentleman wUl credit.

"The silver troxd^ a common trout, is found
in ahnost all of our swift running Northern
streams, and weighs from one to fifteen
pounds." — Anglers Guide, p. 66.

" One fish I saw myself, on last New Year's
day, which, shameful to tell, had been caught
through the ice, near Newburgh. This fish
weighed an ounce or two above five pounds,
and was well fed, and apparently in good con-
dition; but, as I said before, all these must
be taken as exceptions, proving the rule that
trout in American waters rarely exceed two or
three pounds in weight, and never compare in
size with the fish taken in England." — Fish
and Fishing, p. 258.

Who shall decide, between the two con-
tending authorities, both positive in their
assertions ^ Not we. The largest fish of
the kind it was ever our fortune to cap-
ture, measured nineteen inches, but was in
bad condition and we did not weigh him.
Of the modes of takmg the trout, we extract :

"■ There are three different methods pursued
in the capture of the trout. Angling at the
top, with a natural or artificial fly, grasshop-
per, or other small insect ; at the middle, with
a minnow, shrimp, or similar small fish; and
at the bottom, with a worm, or ditTerent kind
of pastes."

" ^f fly fi^^^'^^^S- — Of all the various modes
adopted and contrived by the ingenuity of
man, for pulling out the cunning trout, this, at
once, recommends itself as the perfection of
the art, but as it is considered by the majority
of our brethren more difficult than worm fish-
ing, it has many objectors. But the difficul-
ties are moie in the imagination than the prac-
tice, and when once understood, it gives the
highest pleasure of the art. Others think
they will not take the fly at all in this coun-
try, and having; fished with a worm all the
days of their life, they cannot be persuaded
that, with a simple fly made of feather, they
can take as many fish and oftentimes more."

We have no doubt our author is per-
fectly au fait on this part of his subject,
and yet we are very sure that we have wit-
nessed a performance in the fly fishing, or
rather fly angling line, of which he has
never dreamed.

THE TROUT.

Angling.

[Jan.

A friend and ourselves were fishing
away a few days, at a very primitive
place upon Long Island, boarding with a
farmer, who, though a rude angler, was
nevertheless a very successful one. Our
friend was a skillful fly fisher, and a short
time after our arrival exhibited his collec-
tion to the host, who looked very disdain-
fully upon them, and inquiring the price
of such things, shook his head, saying,
" they would not do for his pocket, and if
he wanted to use any such new fanglcd no-
tions, he could make those himself that
would answer the purpose quite as well."
Our friend ridiculed the idea, and placing
his angling bag at his disposal dared him
to the feat.

An agricultural life had stiff'ened mine
host's fingers, and rendered them totally
unfitted for such delicate work — to use a
vulgar expression, his fingers were all
thumbs — however, to work he went, and
produced some such thing as might result
from throwing a lump of tar in a bag of
hen's feathers, and then running a hole
through it. Loud and long were our peals
of laughter, when he entered the boat with
a long reed pole upon his shoulder, and at
the end of its dependent line this nonde-
script, which he dignified with the title of
artificial fly. Not in the least annoyed at
our ridicule, he insisted that with it he
would take such a fish as we never before
had seen — and he did — for, whirling his
long line like a whip lash, at the very mo-
ment he darted it forward for the cast, a
swallow seized the bait, and found itself
without a head, instanter. The laugh was
now upon our host's side, but, alas, this
triumph was his last.

Should Mr. Brown, or any other gentle-
man in the business, desire a pattern of
his invention, we shall take pleasure in re-
ferring him to the inventor, and informing
him of his local habitation, and his name.

Among the many fine fish that frequent
our Atlantic coast, none can be found
more truly deserving the title of "game,"
than the striped bass.

They are met with in the bays, estuaries,
and rivers from Florida to Massachusetts
Bay, but perhaps Chesapeake Bay is their
favorite place of resort. According to
Mr. Brown they sometimes attain the
weight of one hundred pounds.

There appears to be some difierence of

THE STRIPED BASSE.

opinion as to whether or not this fish is
peculiar to our continent. In our author's
opinion they are ; and the celebrated Dr.
Mitchell must have supposed that he gave
the first account of them in a paper which
is to be found among the transactions of
the Literary and Philosophical Society ;
for he there calls them " MitcheWs j^erch^
striped basse ^ or roclc fish.''''

Dr. Smith, however, appears to have
differed in opinion, if we may judge from
the following extract.

"By what authority Dr. Mitchell gave his
own name to the striped basse, '■'■Perca Mitch-

1850.]

Angling.

«Z/z," we cannot divine ; he might with equal
authority have tacked his name to the white
shark or to the bones of the mastodon, and
the last would have savored less of vanity
than affixing his cognomen to a common table
fish, known from time immemorial all over
Europe."

We extract the following concerning tlie
mode of capture :

"In the early season shrimp is far the best
halt, especially where the water is salt, though
in the Passaic anglers are very successful in
the use of shad-roe as a bait. This bait is
rather difficult to manage by a novice. The
experienced angler makes use of tow or wool.
Cutting his bait with as much of the skin as
possible, and winding a few strands of tow or
wool around it on the hook.

"The shad-roe has been tried repeatedly at
Maccomb's Dam, and in New'town Creek,
without success ; the reason is obvious to the
writer. The shad run up the fresh water
streams to spawn, and are never known to
spawn at either of the places just mentioned.
In the latter part of June, the bass prefer the
soft or shedder crab, though the shrimp con-
tinues to be used with success until near the
first of August, when the crab is decidedly
the best of all baits that can be used. The
mode of angling consequently varies at this
time. While using the shrimp, the angler is
generally most successful, by using the float,
and .suspending his hook from mid water to
within a foot of the bottom, excepting where
the water is quite shallow, when it should
hang just so as to clear the bottom, as in
water of little depth the fish look for their
prey near the bottom.

'•But when crab bait is new, the best mode
of fishing is for the bait to lie on the bottom,
a sliding sinker is then the best, always as
light as the tide will allow. The largest fish
are generally taken by thus fi.shing at the bot-
tom without a float, and the reason of dispen-
sing with the float is obvious, if we look at
the habits of the fi.sh. In angling with shrimp
the bait should be suspended as above stated,
because the shrimps, by the action of the cur-
rent, are frequently swept from the edges of
the channel, or driven by eels or other ene-
mies, and the bass look for them accordingly ;
when feeding on crab, however, these fish
search along the bottom to find the crab in his
helpless and defenceless state, and swim with
their bodies at an angle, with the head down-
ward, where experience teaches them to find
their prey."

With some slight notice of the sheeps-
head, we must now close the work.

The sheepshead is thought to be inferior

for the table to none of the finny tribe, es-
pecially in the northern cities, in whose
markets of late years he has become almcst
a rarity, and of course his value has pro-
portional)ly increased.

On the southern coast however, they
are found in great numbers, especially in
the bays and estuaries attached to the
Gulf of Mexico.

Upon the sedgy flats of Galveston and
San Jacinto bays, which serve as nurse-
ries, they arc found in incredible numbers,
and of all sizes, weighing from a quarter
of a pound to ten and twelve pounds.

According to Mr. Brown, they are some-
times taken in the northern waters, of the
weight of fifteen pounds, and it is highly
probable that none but the largest and
oldest of the kind ever find their way north
of the capes of the Chesapeake.

The plate on page 46, like the two pre-
ceding— a fac simile of the one to be found
in the " Angler's Guide" — is very nearly
a perfect representation of the fish.

One fault is however evident to all
sportsmen acquainted with him — those
sharp projecting teeth arc entirely wrong ;
his mouth is armed with teeth, hard as
paving stones, and large as kernels of corn,
resembling those of the sheej), and from
this he derives his name.

"Strong tackle is essential for taking them,
as they are a very vigorous and powerful fish,
and are furnished with a fine set of front
teeth, resembling the teeth of the sheep —
whence the name. The sheepshead will take
the Avhole clam in his mouth when he finds it,
and crack it without the aid of the fisher-
man, &c." , • ,

In conclusion we can but add " macte
virtute," go on and prosper, Mr. Brown,
we trust that your volume, which has
grown from a small duodecimo to a re-
spectable octavo, may continue to increase
until leaving its state of single blessedness,
it may appear in a connubial trio volume
condition, both as full of instruction and
amusement as this. And may all brothers
of the angle, in the place of finding fault
with the trivial errors, or grumbling at the
omissions of our author, put their own
shoulders to the wheel, and furnish with
such information as it may be in their
power to supply, those who are equally

Aiigling.

[Jan.

anxious to obtain and disseminate any new
light.

Of these two works, Mr. Herbert's is
the more pretentions in appearance, better
adapted to the library of the naturalist,
and its engravings are far superior to those

of its rival, while the book of Mr. Brown
has the advantage in its typography, and is
we think a preferable manual for practical
sportsmen, for whose use it was alone in-
tended. P. P.

THE SHEEPSHEAD.

1850.]

Michel de Montaigne.

MICHEL DE MOTAIGNE.*

No writer would seem to be less in need
of the labors of the biographer than the il-
lustrious philosopher whose name stands at
the head of this paper. His works present
not only a complete autobiography, but the
conscientious result of a most rigorous and
strict self-analysis. He obeyed the golden
precept almost to excess. He would seem
to have entertained no other serious object
in life, but to weigh, ponder, and record
the most secret as well as the most obvious
phenomena of his mental and physical self.
If an accident befell him, his first care was
to observe and note how it affected his per-
son and his mind. If illness came upon
him, he would watch its beginning and its
progress, keep a record of the minutest
change, and speculate as to the probable
result, not like the hypochondriac overmuch
sensitive to personal ailment and darkly
brooding over a gloomy futurity, but like
a fervent worshipper of induction, patient-
ly gathering facts whereon to found a the-
ory. When, after much curious revolving
of that constant and inexhaustible theme of
thought, he had at last ascertained the ex-
istence of some fact in his moral or bodily
organization, which he deemed it worth
while to communicate to others, he forth-
with proceeded to hunt among his mem-
oranda for other facts in point, or remark-
able sayings of other writers, illustrative
of his position. These he pounded to-
gether, or faggotted, to use his expression,
into an essay. Thus it happens that nearly
every chapter in his work is pointed with
allusions to his own present or past history,
or speculations as to his future destiny. He
was his own theme, and everlasting topic ;
his own historiographer, and not unfre-
quently his own eulogizer. The result
of his mode of proceeding is the most

complete, detailed, and particular view
of a man that has ever been given to
the world. INIontaigne did what Rousseau
boasted that he would do in his confessions.
Both had the same object in view ; but our
author had this advantage over the Gene-
van rhetorician, that he saw through his
subject with the calm eye of reason. For,
despite some vanity and over minuteness of
research, Montaigne was seldom blinded
by conceit, never by prejudice, whilst his
imitator would even sacrifice truth to an
antithesis.

With materials so numerous from so au-
thentic a source, it would seem that the
judgment of posterity ought to be unan-
imous as to the merits or demerits of Mon-
taigne. Yet this is far from being the case.
The task of reconciling apparent inconsis-
tencies, is so difiicult, the tendency to gen-
eralize and systematize, is so captivating,
that the detractors, as well as the apolo-
gists, of Montaigne, have confined then'
efforts to the gathering of such isolated
parts of our author's confessions as prop-
ped their preconceived opinions. Erring
(as millions of "judges of human nature"
have done and will do,) in this, that having
to present at one view a many faced object,
of which no one eye can embrace the whole
at once, they strive to mould it into such a
shape as will ofier the largest possible sur-
face at one glance. They flatten the dia-
mond into a medal and conceal the incon-
venient reverse.

Our author himself furnishes a passage
in point. "Those," says he, "who make
it their business to observe human actions,
never find themselves so much puzzled in
any thing as how to reconcile and set them
before the world in a self-consistent light
and reputation ; for they are generally such

* The Works of Michel de Montaigne, Comprising his Essays, Letters, and Journey
through Germany and Italy ; with Notes from all the Commentators, Biographical, and Biblio-
graphical Notices, &c., &c. By William Hazlitt. Philadelphia : J. W. Moore, 193
Chestnut street.

Michel de Mo?itaigne.

[Jan.

strange contradictions in themselves that it
seems ahnost impossible they should pro-
ceed from one and the same person."
What the shrewd Montaigne considered so
difficult has proved an insuperable stum-
bling block to his critics, whether friendly
or not. Nor can we blame them, except
for having attempted what, but for their
boundless fatuity, they must have known
to be impossible. One of these amusing
blunders of criticisms it may be worth our
while to notice, because it is extremely
sentimental, extremely erroneous, and be-
cause it comes from the pen of one of the
most accomplished sentence-mongers of
the day — Alphonse de Lamartine.

The illustrious historian of the Giron-
dins, is pleased to say, anent Montaigne,
what follows : — " This doubt, which takes
a pleasure in doubting, appeared to me
absolutely infernal. Man is born to be-
lieve or die. Montaigne can produce
nothing but sterility in the mind of
any one who enjoys his writings. To
believe nothing is to do nothing. The
coarseness, too, of Montaigne's expres-
sions wounded and irritated the delicacy
of my sensibility. FUthiness of words is
a stain upon the soul. An obscene word
produces the same impression on my mind
as a putrid odor does on my olfactory sys-
tem. I admired in Montaigne only that
charming simplicity of style, which unveils
the graceful form of the mind, and dis-
plays the very palpitations of the heart un-
der the epidermis of the man. But his
philosophy appeared to me pitiful. It is
not the philosophy of the pig, for he"
(query, pig or Montaigne.?) "thinks. It
is not the philosophy of man, for he comes
to no conclusion. But it is the philosophy
of the child, for he sports with every thing.
Now this world is not a childish toy.
The work of God is well worth the trouble
of being viewed seriously, and human na-
ture is noble and unfortunate enough to be
treated, if not with respect, at least with
pity. Pleasantry on such a subject is not
only cruel but impious."

Bravo ! Heraclitus ! well whined, and
in pretty, antithetical French. We know
that you prefer (in prmt) tears to smiles,
sorrow to cheerfulness. We have not for-
gotten the famous — Je fus cles la manielle
un homme de doulcurs — nor the playful
stanzas in which the witty Barthelemy con-

trasts your Herculean form and athletic
proportions with the dolorous tendency of
your song — ^your keen relish of the sub-
stantial goods of this world with the sad
vibrations of your melancholy lyre, tuned
to we know not what dispirited echoes of the
muse of captive Israel. We know that you
love to sing in a minor key — success to you,
since fashion applauds — but, nevertheless, O
Heraclitus ! your proposition concerning our
philosopher must be, minor and major, de-
molished ere we have done with you.

In the first place, let us dispose of the
charge of obscenity, which might preju-
dice some unsophisticated readers. Grant-
ed that Montaigne occasionally (though
rarely for the times in which he lived) lets
slip a word or two not to be mentioned to
ears polite of this century. We by no
means insist that Montaigne's works shall
be forced upon the leisure of all classes,
and all ages. But if his occasional indul-
gence of a freedom of expression, which
shocked not even the moral sense of the
most fastidious beauty of the sixteenth
century, is sufficient to " wound the deli-
cacy" of M. de Lamartine's " sensibility,"
why, surely, he had better close the book
unread. Now watch the sequence ; see if
the argument does not prove too much.
Not only must he deprive himself of the
pleasure of reading the entertaining Mon-
taigne, but the glorious Rabelais, the
pleasing Marat, the god-like Moliere,
the chaste Racine himself. (Vide Plaid-
eurs). In fact the whole literature of
his country — age, and of every other
country — up to a very recent period
of questionable improvement, must re-
main foi-ever a sealed book to his " deli-
cate sensibility." Nay, we will go further
— the whole array of the immortal classics
of either language is disfigured with " stain
upon the soul." The fathers of the church
must not be consulted by persons so deli-
cately framed as M. de Lamartine. The
pious and eloquent Saint Augustine would
shock his nerves. The holy Scriptures
themselves contain passages not sufficient-
ly gauged over for his immaculate eye.
While he must be forever debarred from
studying, in the originals, the merits or de-
merits of the reformei'S, for nothing can be
more obscene than the vituperation of Mar-
tin Luther, except it be the vituperation of
some of his adversaries.

1850.]

Michel de Montaigne.

The truth is, that our ancestors of both
Bexes, had a pleasant way of then- own of
calling things by their names. Queen
Elizabeth made use of expressions in open
court which no decent wench of our day
would venture to whisper any where in the
hearing of man {inem.^ that famous speech
about "the trifle light as air"). This
freedom of words Montaigne indulged to
some extent. He wrote the language
which he spoke to his wife and daughters,
without malice prepense — the language in
which he conversed with Madame D'Estis-
sae, and all the ladies of the court, without
fear of offence, for no offence was meant.
Our vigorous and plain spoken forefathers
(and foremothers) were not gifted with that
"delicacy of sensibility" which distin-
guishes some lyric bards of our day. And
it is to that very absence of conventional-
ism that we may in a great measure attrib-
ute "that charming simplicity of style"
which characterizes our author, and which
has won the regard even of M. de Lamar-
tine.

The charge concerning the skepticism
of Montaigne is just about as well founded
and as rational as the one we have just dis-
posed of. But ere we reply to "the gen-
tleman on the other side," we must dissect
his speech, and arrive at his strict mean-
ing. Flowers of rhetoric are not proofs ;
words are not facts; point is not logic.
We declare that we do not understand
what signifies, " Man isbornto believe or to
die." " To believe nothing is to do nothing."
We have known some stubborn doubters,
who staunchly wrought and wrote, and did
a great deal in their way. Their bump of
vitality likewise, never appeared to us to be
unusually small. We have known them,
in fact, to live to a good old age. There-
fore we will charitably infer, that those in-
comprehensible sentences contain some hid-
den germ of mystical significance which,
being too deep for us, we shall not under-
take to fathom. Neither can we conceive
any sane mind (Pyrrhonians are not sane)
that will doubt for the sake of doubting.
Montaigne took no pleasure in doubting;
he took pleasure in investigating, in pMlos-
ophizing. But then he says " to philoso-
phize is to doubt" — of course, up to the
point of rational conviction. Montaigne
was so little a skeptic for the sake of skep-
ticism, that he treats quite disrespectfully

VOL. V. NO. I. NEW SERIES.

the famous saying of Pliny : Solum cer-
ium nil esse certi ; he calls it " a bold say-
ing," and dismisses it along with the quad-
rature of the circle and the philosopher's
stone.— (^. 312.)

That he had a skeptical turn of mind,
we will freely admit, and fortunate it has
proved for the weal of science that some
minds are gifted with that turn. For in-
stance, he was a skeptic as to the infalli-
bility of Aristotle, at a time when the
church had almost unqualifiedly adopted
and lent her sanction to his doctrines — at
a time when one fanatical worshipper de-
clared that " The touchstone and square
of all solid imagination and all truth was,
an absolute conformity to Aristotle's doc-
trine, and that all besides was nothing but
inanity and chimera ; for he had seen all-
and said all." And just about this time,
at a few hundred miles from where Mon-
taigne penned his wondrous essays, another
kindred mind, gifted also with a skeptical
turn, presumed likewise to doubt, and
founded with his novum organum the ed-
ifice of modern science. IN or did Bacon
die of his doubt, but gained immortality by
his labors.

As another instance, he was a skeptic as
to the practical use of the science of med-
icine ; and carried his skepticism so. far as
to dispense with the services of physicians
— making this much manifest by his exam-
ple, that he was candid in his unbelief.
And if there be any truth in modern med-
ical discovery, who need wonder that ofie
who was nearly a cotemporary of Papacel-
sus questioned the knowledge of the son.^
of Esculapius. Montaigne seems to have
considered that the main resource of ihe,
remedial art lay in the patient's imagma-i
tion, and himself once applied that prrnci.-.
pie in a most ludicrous yet efiicient manner,
although, for fear of shocking " delicate
sensibilities," we scarcely dare to allude to
it here.

Thus far we fail to discover any iji'-i
stance of self-willed unbelief. Montaigne
appears merely in the light of an educated
gentleman of the sixteenth century, pos-
sessed of sufiicient information to perceive
the vanity of the science of his day, yet
lacking the energy and the erudition to un-
mask it entirely, and confining his efforts
to the putting on record of a rational
doubt. Let us now study the complexion
4

Michel de Montaigne.

[Jan.

of his mind in matters of pure abstract
ftiith, and see whether he advocates that
inquiry should be carried beyond the limits
of human ken. The sincerity of his reli-
gious professions has been questioned. His
characteristic " Que sais-je .?" has been
appealed to as expressing a great deal more
than a candid avowal of ignorance, and
some passages there are in his writings
which woidd bear rather hard against him
in an Inquisitorial Court.* Yet it seems
scarcely fair to single out isolated passages
of a work composed at intervals during a
period of many years, any more than it
woiild be to write out M. de Lamartine's
political catechism from his earlier " Me-
ditations." For om- own part, after a care-
ful inquiry , we have arrived at the conclu-
sion that Montaigne was a pure minded,
sincere christrian, however much he might
deprecate religious war, and doubt the
policy of both the contending parties. Out
of hundreds of passages which we could
adduce from his writings, we select the fol-
lowing, which serves as a fair specimen of
his desultory manner, at the same time that
it affords indications of his proneness to in-
' quire and discriminate.

" Things unknownf are the principal and
true field of imposture, forasmuch as, in the
fir^i, pkice, theif very strangeness lends them
credit-j and moreover, by not being subjected
to piif ordinary reason, they deprive us of the
nlean* to question and dispute them. On
w'hlch account, says Plato, it is much more
ea.sy to satisfy the hearers when speaking of
the.n'ature of the gods than of the nature of
mefi, because the ignorance of the auditory af-
f»c«lg >a fair and large career, ajid all manner
cff liberty in the handling of recondite things ;
find t'uence comes to pass that nothing is so
ficmly believed as what we least know ; nor
any people so confident as those who enter-
tain us with fables, such as your alchymists,
judicial astrologers, fortime tellers, physici-
ans', and zVZ g-gjiws ornne. To whom I could
wij-hngly if I durst, join a set of •people who

* For instance the famous passage; '' the dead
est deaths are the best.''

t In makmg our selections we avail ourselves
of the admirable translation of Charles Cotton,
as reviewed and corrected by William Hazlitt.
This work, as it now stands, is the very best of
the kind that we know of. It is a faithful and
elegant version from one of the most difficult
authors that could be selected for translation.
The very style of Mi>ntaigne seems to glow
through its EngUsh di-ess.

take upon them to interpret and control the
designs of God himself, making a business of
finding out the cause of every accident, and
of prying into the secrets of the divine Avill,
there to discover the incomprehensible motives
of his work. And although the variety and
the continual discordance of events throw them
from corner to corner, and toss them from east
to west, yet do they still persist in their
vain inquisition, and with the same pencil
paint black and white. In a nation of the
Indies, there is a commendable custom that
when anything befalls them amiss in any en-
counter or battle, they publicly ask pardon of
the Sun, who is their God, as having com-
mitted an unjust action, always imputing their
good or evil fortune to the divine justice, and
to that submitting their own judgment and
reason. 'Tis enough for a christian to believe
that all things come from God, to receive them
with acknowledgement of his divine and in-
scrutable wisdom, and thankfully to accept
and receive them with what face they may so-
ever present themselves.''

We submit that the above extract
scarcely shows any disposition to doubt for
doubt's sake. The purest minded chris-
tian might endorse it as it stands. The
truth seems to be that the judicious Mon-
taiwue, whose calm reasonintj could dissect
the secret motives of men, whose pene-
trating mind saw through all the hypocri-
sies of the world, and estimated then- real
worth ; the sensible Montaigne who avowed
that " Distinguo was the universal part of
his Logic," was a thorough going conserva-
tive by principle, in politics, religion, and
legislation. On these subjects he depre-
cated abrirpt reform and useless agitation.
He wished to see evils corrected by a slow
and gradual process. To his sovereign he
professed an affection without enthusiasm,
" purely legitimate and political, neither
attached nor repelled by private interests."
He sought no place at court, although al-
ways welcome there, and enjoying in high
quarters an influence which few could
boast. Though a firm Catholic, and an
eye-witness of one of the fiercest wars
ever waged in the name of religion, he ab-
stained from taking any share in the strug-
gle. Nevertheless he enjoyed the es-
teem of both parties to such an extent
that they united in requesting him to
write the chronicle of that distracted age ;
" I am solicited," he says, "to write the
affau's of my own time by some who fancy
I look upon them with an eye less blinded

1850.]

Michel de Montaigne.

with prejudice or partiality than another,
and have a clearer insight into them, by
reason of the free access fortune has given
me to the heads of both factions ; but they
do not consider that to purchase the glory
of Sallust, I would not give myself the
trouble, sworn enemy as I am to all obli-
gation, assiduity, and perseverance ; be-
sides that there is nothing so contrary to
my style as a continued and extended nar-
rative, I so often interrupt and cut myself
short in my writing solely for want of
breath."

What can be more conservative than the
following passage from our author, which
we commend for perusal to some would-be
modern reformers in jurisprudence. " In
all things, saving only in those that are
evU," a change is to be feared ; even the
change of seasons, winds, viands, and hu-
mors. And no laws are in their true cre-
dit, but such to which God has given so
long a continuance that no one knows their
beginning, or that there ever was any
other.

We cannot refrain from transcribing the
following passage at length ; it is in point,
and truly Montaigne-like.

" A man may say, with some color of truth,
that there is an abecedarian ignorance that
precedes knowledge, and a doctoral ignorance
tliat comes after it ; an ignorance which know-
ledge creates and begets, as she despatches and
destroys the first. Of simple understandings,
little inquisitive, and little instructed, are made
good christians, who by reverence and obedi-
ence implicitly believe, and are constant in
their belief. In the moderate understandings,
and the middle sort of capacities, error of
opinions is begot. They follow the appear-
ance of the first sense, and have some color of
reason on their side, to impute our walking in
the old beaten path to simplicity and stupidi-
ty. I mean in us who have not informed
ourselves by study. The higher and nobler
souls, more solid and clear-sighted, make up
another sort of true believers, who by a long
and religious investigation, have obtained a
clearer and more penetrating light into the
scriptures, and have discovered the mysterious
and divine secret of our ecclesiastical polity.
* * -x- * xhe simple peasants are good
people, and so are the philosophers. * * * *
The mongrels, who have disdained the first
form of the ignorance of letters, and have not
been able to attain the latter, (sitting betwixt
two stools, as 1 and a great many more of us
do,) are dangerous, foolish, and troublesome ;
these are they that disturb the world. And

therefore it is that I, for my own part, retreat
as much as I can towards my lu'stand natural
station, whence I so vainly attempted to ad-
vance."

With such feelings, and in such a spirit,
Montaigne lived and died a strict Catholic,
punctual in the observance of the forms of
his religion, gently chiding the inconsiderate
zeal which, in the name of a God of Peace,
covered with blood the fliir fields of France,
but declining to take part in the contest,
either by drawing the sword or by arguing
the abstraction which arrayed Huguenot
against Catholic. Many a time did the
fierce tide of war sweep past the walls of
the old chateau where Montaigne rehearsed
for posterity, " the good lessons which our
mother nature teaches us," without harm-
ing the philosopher, or disturbing the se-
renity of his leisure. For, as he saj's, there
is nothing in this world he was so much
afraid of as fear. His speculations on the
comparative traquillity in which he was
permitted to live are characteristic.

"Peradventure the facility of entering my
house has been a means to preserve it from
the violence of our civil wars ; defence allures
an enemy, and mistrust provokes him. I
enervated the soldiers' design by depriving the
exploit of danger and all matter of military
glory, which is wont to serve them for pre-
tence and excuse. Whatever is bravely done
is honorably done, at a time when justice is
dead. I render then the conquest of my house
cowardly and base ; it is never shut to any
one that knocks. My gate has no other guard
than a porter, and that of ancient custom and
ceremony who does not so much serve to de-
fend it as to offer it with more decency and
the better grace. I have no other guard or
sentinel than the stars. A gentleman would
play the fool to make a show of defence if
he be not really in a condition to defend him-
self. He that lies open on one side is every-
where so. Our ancestors did not think of
building frontier garrisons. * * * That
so many garrisoned houses have been lost,
whereas this of mine remains, makes me apt
to suspect that they were only lost by being
guarded ; this gives an enemy both an invi-
tation and color of reason ; all defence shows
a face of war. Let who will, come to me in
God's name; but I shall not invite them. 'Tis
retirement I have chosen for nay repose from
war. I endeavor to withdraw this corner
from the public tempest^, as I also do ano-
ther corner of my soul. Our war may put on
what forms it will, muUiply and, diversify it-

Michel de Montaigne.

[Jan.

self into new parties ; for my own part I shall
not budge."

It must have been a singular spectacle
for the contemporaries of Montaigne to
see one called, by his rank, his fortune,
and his mental superiority, to play an ac-
tive and influential part in the deadly strug-
gle that was distracting France, thus with-
drawing himself into retirement, and by
the mere force of his character pouring as
it were the precious oil of his philosophy
upon the troublous waters, contrive for
himself a calm spot amidst " the public
tempest." For, as he informs us, he was
"the only man of his condition" who
dared at that time thus to entrust his
homestead " purely to the protection of
heaven, without removing either plate,
deeds, or hangings." The strange and
somewhat selfish part which he enacted,
was the result, in a great measure, of the
very peculiar education which he had re-
ceived.

Michel de Montaigne was born, as he
himself informs us with his egotistical ac-
curacy, "betwixt eleven and twelve o'clock
in the forenoon, the last of February,
1533 ;" that is about the meridian of the
reign of Francis I, the generous patron of
letters. Italian art had been transplanted
into the soil of France. Letters were re-
viving. Learning was beginning to diffuse
itself, even among the nobility. It was
no longer a disgrace for a gentleman to
know how to write ; and Rabelais had just
demonstrated the power and richness of
the hitherto half barbarous P^'rench lan-
guage. The father of our author was a
gallant Gascon nobleman, gifted with a
strong though uncultivated mind, and full
as eccentric in his way as the essayist him-
self. It would seem that he early discov-
ered in his son Michel symptoms of a su-
perior intellect ; at all events he resolved
to make him the subject of an experiment
in education, which proved as judicious as
it was original. A learned German tutor,
with two assistants, was procured at great
expense, and instructed to teach his pupil
the Latin language in the same manner as
it was taught Julius Cfesar or Scipio Afri-
canus, viz., orally. No one was allowed
to address the child in any other language.
All the meaibers of the family, and the
servants themselves, were obliged to acquire

some rudiments of Latin, or else be de-
barred from conversing with Michel. As
a consequence of this system, the idiom of
Marcus Tullius overflowed the neiglibor-
hood, and produced a sensible alteration in
the dialect of the vicinity ; many things
changed names, and the unclassical Dor-
dogne was startled in her progress, through
that wild district of Gascony, by sounds
which the echoes of the " Parent Tiber"
had so long ceased to repeat. Thus in-
structed in Latin from the nursery, Mi-
chel made such progi-ess that, at twelve
years of age, he was able to converse in
that language with tlie greatest scholars of
the day, and George Buchanan was actu-
ally " afraid to enter into a discourse with
him." Fortunately for Michel he had
an elder brother, who seemed destined to
inherit the paternal estate, so that no feu-
dal prejudice interfered to compel him to
adopt the profession of arms. His library
was large for the times, and in his own
free desultory way he very soon became
intimately acquainted with the principal
writers of antiquity. He was permitted to
roam, at his own free will, through the rich
field of ancient lore, and naturally formed
predilections which he kept throughout his
life. He admired Seneca and Plato, and
entertained a sort of quiet contempt for
Cicero, whom he seems to have considered
as a mouthy rhetorician. He was passion-
ately fond of Plutarch's style, and laughed
at the credulity of old Pliny, whom he
often quotes, as it were on purpose to bring
him into ridicule. To the ancient moral-
ists he soon became accustomed to look for
rules of conduct, and gradually formed for
himself out of their maxims a code of rather
heathenish philosophy, which he deftly in-
tertwined with the morality of Christianity,
and by which he governed his actions
through life. The doctrines of Epicurus
formed the foundation of his system ; but
he was as much of an eclectic as Cicero
himself, whom he afiects to despise, and
soon managed to engraft shoots of other
schools upon his own. The easy maxims
of Epicurus were well suited to the indo-
lent genius of Montaigne, but the troub-
lous times in which he lived, and the sor-
rows which assailed him, soon compelled
him to call the sterner maxims of the
stoics to his assistance. For there is this
peculiarity about our author, that his phi-

1850.]

Michel de Montaigne.

losopliy was wholly practical. And his
writings being mere records of what he did
and felt himself through a long career, de-
rive from this circumstance an air of reality
and business like matter of fact, which
constitutes their principal charm. He does
not so much speculate upon what might or
ought to be done, as relate what he himself
has done. If he seeks to demonstrate the
usefulness of his principles, it is chiefly by
adducing his own example to show how
they can be carried out. Whether or not
those principles were of the most exalted
character, we will leave moralists to de-
cide. After all, Montaigne's policy was
founded upon a refined selfishness. This
feeling, so uncongenial to real greatness,
was born in him, and afterwards developed
by his education and by the peculiar state
of things around him. His natural dispo-
sition, he informs us, was made up of neg-
ative qualities. As a child, his sins were
all of omission, never of commission. As
he grew up, he shunned all active employ-
ments; he loved ease and independence
more than any thing on earth. He gov-
erned his passions well, because ungov-
erned passions are troublesome. He kept
his lively imagination under a constant
check, because imagination excites over-
much the mind. He took no part in the
wars of religion, partly because he consid-
ered that it would be hard " to muster a
company of gendarmes" out of the sincere
believers of both factions, but principally
because war would have interfered v.dth his
quiet. In his style of living he was libe-
ral, because, having lived once to hoard
up, he found that his accumulated treasure
was an intolerable weight upon his mind.
For the same reason, he neglected to keep
any account of his income and expenditure.
He would not even trouble hhnself over-
much to study, preferring " to jog on at his
own rate and ease." " I could wish,"
says he, " to have a more perfect know-
ledge of things, but I will not buy it so
dear as it will cost. My design is to pass
over easily, and not laboriously, the remain-
der of my life. There is nothing that I
will break my brain about ; no, not know-
ledge, of what price soever." Sorrows he
knew he must perforce encounter in life,
therefore he made it his business, by fre-
quent meditation, to arm himself with a
coat of mail of philosophic indifference.

Death itself he strove not altogether in
vain to disarm of its terrors, by often con-
templating it in the face, by speculating
upon the probable length of his own term
of life, and by studying his part before-
hand for the last act of life. It must have
been a hard trial for our author's philoso-
phy when, under the pressure of " extrin-
sic circumstances," and in obedience to
" the common custom and use of life," he
was obliged, at the age of thirty-three, to
take to himself a wife. " Might I have
my own will," says he, " I would not have
married Wisdom herself, if she would have
had me." This he wrote after a long and
comparatively happy experience of matri-
mony. In selecting the magistrature for a
profession, he likewise consulted expedien-
cy alone. Something he must do, and this
profession being the least arduous, as he
thought, he adopted it. His taste did not
incline that way. On the contrary, he de-
cries the system of juiisprudence then in
vogue with its Latin forms, its purchased
ofiices, its mercenary fees, and its " fourth
estate of wrangling lawyers."

Thus we may consider that Montaigne's
philosophy rested upon the narrow founda-
tion of selfishness : nevertheless, he was
a most devoted friend. He who was en-
thusiastic in nothing else, was so enthusi-
astic in his friendship, that years after the
death of La Boetie, to whom he was ar-
dently attached, he fainted at the mention
of his name — a remarkable example of the
inconsistency of human actions so shrewd-
ly exposed by our author himself.

Michel de Montaigne was about forty
years of age when he conceived the idea
of dignifying the leisure of his retirement
by writing for the public. We have al-
ready adverted to the manner in which his
wonderful " Essays" grew as it were un-
der his pen, and expostd upon his own au-
thority, the secret of the prodigious num-
ber of anecdotes wherewith he embellished
his pages. ' ' A defaut de memoir e^'''' says he,
" je m''eu forge une de papier .'''' He seem-
ed but little prepared for a literary career.
His information was desultory and super-
ficial. His French was not of the purest,
but was tinged with Gascon. He had
never learned any language except by rote,
and knew " neither ablative nor conjunc-
tive." He was indolent to excess, and
lacked that stimulus which worldly inter-

Michel de Montaigne

[Jan.

course would have supplied. For latterly
he had withdrawn himself from court, and
had resigned his magisterial office as soon
as by his brother's death he had become
the head of the family. But it chanced that
every one of those apparent disqualifications
invested his writings with a pecular charm.
Solitude made him original. Indolence
made him concise and pointed. His bad
memory led him to quote most accurately
with the originals under his eyes, whilst to
this conscious ignorance we are indebted for
that delightful style, half prattle, half elo-
quence, that inimitable naivete of manner,
and that vivid strength of expression which
will continue to make him a favorite for
many generations.

It was our intention to offer our opinions
as to the degree of influence which Mon-
taigne exerted upon his age, and upon the
literature of his own and other countries.
We had also proposed to ourselves the
pleasing task of following the elegant es-
sayist on his journey beyond the Alps.
But our limits compel us to forbear enter-
ing upon those branches of our subject.

In conclusion we will quote a passage which
is prefixed to the works before us, and
credited to the Edinburgh Review. We
select it among many because it conveys in
a few brief words a not inadequate idea of
the obligations we owe to the father of mo-
dern essayists :

" Montaigne seems to have a distinct char-
acter as a philosopher. As Machiavel was
the first who discussed grave questions in a
vulgar tongue, and created a philosophy of his-
tory, so Montaigne was the first conspicuous
writer who, in a modern language, philoso-
phized on the common concerns of men, and
the ordinary subjects of private reflection and
conversation. The degree which nature claims
in the diversity of talents, the efficiency of
education, the value of the learned languages,
the usages of society, the passions that actu-
ate private life, the singular customs of differ-
ent nations, are the subjects chiefly handled
in his essays. In the period from Socrates to
Plutarch, such questions had been well treat-
ed before. But Montaigne was evidently the
founder of popular philosophy in modern
times."

1850.]

St. PiejTe^s Story.

ST. PIERRE'S STORY.

During a valetudinary journey on horse-
back, through the central parts of New
England, some years ago, I turned aside
from the highway to enjoy the greenness of
a country road which wound under the
arches of a forest, towards the bases of
steep and rugged hills. Coming upon a
steep ascent I fastened the bridle of my
horse to the swinging arm of an oak, and
pursued the ascent by a rocky ravine,
through which a stream rushed full and
foaming. The branches that grew far
above, interlaced a green canopy, which
made the color of the rushing waters of the
purest emerald. Stepping from rock to
rock, I ascended. The waters came down
by a succession of slender cataracts, les-
sening toward the summit. Here was
an open and cultivated space, forming a
ring of green fields, surrounding a lake,
out of which these waters flowed. Deep
forests rose around, on the sides of pre-
cipitous hUls. A narrow footway led along
the edge of the forest to a clearing beyond
the lake, where a farm house of the small-
est dimensions indicated a master whose
poverty, or whose misanthropy led him to
prefer a life of solitary, unassisted labor.
The entire cultivated space lying about the
lake did not exceed perhaps ten acres. It
was not more than could have been rudely
tilled by the hand of one man. A footway
leading from the house to the lake, went
out upon the water, by a pier of planks
and stones, showing that the owner could
content himself with the turbid and insipid
waters of what must have been, most time,
a standing pool. Rude implements of
husbandry were laid on the bare earth be-
fore the door. A lean horse bit the her-
bage near by, and a dog of savage appear-
ance saluted me with a surly, inhospitable
growl.

The door opened slowly and suspiciously.
A man evidently advanced in years made
his appearance, of a stature tall and per-
fectly erect. His head was bald, but a
beard of snowy whiteness flowed from his
face, almost to the girdle. The rough

dress of an husbandman indicated his oc-
cupation ; but his invitation to enter was
given with a voice that showed an early re-
finement and a knowledge of hospitality.
His countenance, showed lines of charac-
ter blended with the injuries of grief and
melancholy, and somewhat impaired by
the timidity of a long solitude. I en-
tered, and accepting the sole chair, while
my entertainer seated himself on the frame
work of boards which served him for a bed,
a conversation ensued, such as is usual be-
tween travellers and rustic entertainei's.
The situation of his farm, the character of
the soil, the splendor of the scenery, for a
while engaged us, and soon, as if forgetful
of himself, and after he had set before me
some temporary refreshment, he began to
speak of other scenes in other lands. His
accent and a certain vivacity of manners
showed that he was of foreign birth. From
a beam in one corner of the room, among
a collection of dried gourds and bunches
of maize, hung, neglected and covered with
du.st, a suit of regimentals, and by a gold
chain the star of an order, and the cross
of the Legion of Honor.

Seeing my attention attracted by these
marks of former though evidently not for-
gotten glory, a melancholy smile over-
spread his features, which communicated
to them an expression of regret, though
not unmixed with pride.

" You have served," I said, " in the ar-
mies of the Emperor." "Yes," he an-
swered, " from the age of sixteen till that
of twenty-five. After the defeat at Water-
loo I renounced the military profession, and
came to America. I brought with me a mo-
derate fortune — what you here call a com-
petency ; and what was more, I brought
hope, and even enthusiasm. The fortuna
I have still left me." A pause followed
1 began to have a strong desire to know
something of the history of this recluse
Wishing to open an avenue to further and
freer conversation, I asked how it was, that
in possession of wealth, he had chosen the
hard conditions of poverty.

St. Pierre's Story.

[Jan.

"Merely to live," replied he carelessly,
" is perhaps necessary while God pleases ;
but for happiness, I knojv of but one kind ;
and that is, to have a mind free from re-
morse, a conscience void of offence. The
life I have chosen is that of a monk, of a
penitent," he said bowing his head meekly ;
" and even in that I can find, if not happi-
ness, at least content."

Respect forbade my pressing this digni-
fied ascetic with questions of his life ; but
he said, " Your countenance is one that
most men would confide in, and as it is not
my fortune to meet often with such, for
here I am visited only by rustics, let me
confess that it would be a pleasure to me
to relate what you seem desirous to hear."

I assented. We went out and took seats
upon the greensward, under the shadows of
a neighboring oak. After a pause of some
minutes, during which he seemed to be
collecting his thoughts, the stranger began
as follows :

" Living solitary, I have perhaps fallen
into childishness, which is one of the ef-
fects of solitude ; and at intervals I feel
a desire to relate my history. This de-
sire once indulged retjuires a second in-
dulgence.

" At the age of twenty-five, in the full
enjoyment of youth, health, and fortune,
I landed at New Orleans, with the resolu-
tion, as I touched your shores, of becoming
in every sense a citizen of your country.
As I had faithfully served the Emperor in
war, so I wished to serve the Republic in
peace. Provided with letters of introduc-
tion, and accustomed to your language, in
a little time I found myself accepted in
cultivated and influential circles, with a
prospect before me of realizing my ambiti-
ous hopes. I shunned the company of Euro-
peans. I mingled especially with persons
politically influential. I brought with me
the frank ambition of a soldier : I learned
from them something of the shrewdness and
too much of the scepticism and the policy
of those who seek power for its own sake."
After living for a time an easy and some-
what dissipated life, into which I entered
with the desire of familiarizing myself with
the character and social habits of your
countrymen, I began to contemplate a more
serious and settled course of existence ; and
being taken with the manners and the
beauty of a young heiress from Massachu-

setts, who was wintering in New Orleans,
I made a formal offer of myself in mar-
riage, and was accepted.

An unexpected happiness ensued. As
my opinion of the other sex had been
formed by the rude experience of a sol-
dier, and not much improved by the inter-
course of a frivolous society, the virtues of
my sweet companion were a new and
delightful discovery. We soon became
attached by the most ardent affection.
The year after our marriage was passed in
the enjoyment of the most innocent and
heavenly delights. So absorbing was our
attachment, it became more agreeable
to us to withdraw into a comparative
seclusion, in order to find more leisure
for the enjoyment of each other. Our
felicity was the envy and the admiration of
those whom we admitted to our society.

Among our most frequent visitors was a
gentleman of my own age, an American,
and a Northerner by birth, but educated,
as I had been, in a French university.
Foreign travel had improved the naturally
easy and agreeable manners of my friend,
(for as such I was soon obliged to regard
him,) to a great refinement. His bold
bearing was tempered with an acquired
mildness, which only added fear to the re-
spect with which he was regarded by his
inferiors. The name of this gentleman
was Eustis. He was of good extraction,
and prided himself upon the antiquity and
virtue of his family, and on a character
uncontaminated by any meanness. His
Northern blood appeared in the metaphys-
ical and calculating habit of liis mind. En-
joying the reputation and the business of
a popular advocate, he could yet find leis-
ure to engage in speculative adventures,
and though his losses were often equal to
his gains, he preserved the equanimity and
calmness of a man whose confidence in his
resources never deserts him.

With me it had been always a necessity
to have a friend, and even an intimate ;
and until the powerful passion of love made
him seem less necessary to me, Eustis had
been to me all that one man can be to an-
other, a friend, a social intimate, a skillful
adviser in business, and a means of intro-
duction to good society. There was no-
thing in him, one would have thought, that
he would desire to conceal, and his morality
surpassed the standard of my own.

1850.]

St. Pierre's Story.

It was especially by this latter advan-
tage, wliicli he had by his Puritan educa-
tion, that Eustis acquired a great control
over my sentiments. What seemed right
to him, seemed right to me. Morally
speaking, he was my master, though to
others I appeared his superior in every ex-
ternal advantage.

My wife, on the contrary, who was a
distant connection of his, and had been his
playfellow in childhood, conceived for him
a strong aversion, which, notwithstanding
her devotion to my wishes, increased almost
to a passion during the first year of our
married life. As Eustis and I were con-
stantly exchanging visits, I very soon dis-
covered her sentiments in regard to hun,
and did all in my power to change or soften
them, but with consequences the reverse of
what was intended.

At a little distance frqm the city I had
purchased a plantation, adjoining that of
my friend, who was unmarried, in order to
make om* social intercourse more free and
frequent. I learned from him the arts of
agriculture and economy, as then practised,
and what was more difiicult, acquired, by
assiduous inquiry on my own and skillfvd
instruction on his part, a good knowledge
of the history and political constitution of
the country. These obligations bound me
closely to my friend. We maintained a
daily intercourse. We did every thing in
cm" power to make our homes agreeable to
each other, by society of the choicest, and
conduct the most hospitable.

Eustis was too quick an observer, not to
comprehend at once the excellence of my
wife, and to think he understood the hos-
tility with which she regarded him. " When
we were children together," he would
sometimes say, "Ellen and I were excel-
lent friends; but now, she is jealous of
me. She wishes to absorb you entirely.
Some women are as jealous of a male as
of a female rival." This explanation
seemed very agreeable, and heightened my
regard for both.

With this exception, I remember no-
thing that happened amiss during the first
three years of my marriage. At the end
of the first year, my wife brought me a
daughter, who is still living, in enjoyment
of the fortune which I have long since re-
nounced. A vigorous constitution carried
me unac climated thi'ough two seasons of

danger. In the midst of the first, I had
landed. The second and third year safely
passed. The fom'th now approached and
prostrated me. I fell violently ill with the
fever of the country, and my life was des-
paired of.

Notwithstanding the little preparation I
had made for death, I was unconscious of
fear. Only one anxiety possessed me, to
ensure the worldly comfort, and if possible
the happiness, of my wife and child. Un-
der the advice of Eustis, my fortune had
been judiciously invested in valuable plan-
tations. To secm-e it to its right owners,
I had only to make my friend the guardian
of my child, and the executor of my will.
Believing that it was only an affectionate
jealousy that excited her hostility toward
him, I had no hesitation in placing her un-
der his cai-e and direction. In the excite-
ment of the time, my confidence in Eustis
acquired a romantic character, and it be-
gan to seem necessary (for it was my fault
to mistake impulses for necessities), that
in the event of my decease, my widow
should become the wife of my friend. He
who has so loved me, thought I, will surely
love my child ; at least, for my sake, he
will be kind and just to it. As for my
poor Ellen's hostility to him, it is the effect
of jealousy, and will wear ofi" as soon as
she finds herself dependent upon his gen-
erous nature. The design once formed, I
thought it impossible to die in peace until
it was made sure. I caused a will to be
executed in which, after disposing of the
body of my property to my wife and child,
I bequeathed a valuable share of it to
Eustis. I then wrote a paper, containing
an injunction upon him, and upon my
widow, if they wished for the continued
afiection and approbation of the departed
soul (which, from its place of rest or of
torment, would continue to sympathize with
their happiness and their misery), to imite
themselves with each other in marriage,
after the lapse of not more than two years
from my decease.

After the making and witnessing of the
will, I called Eustis to my bed-side, and
with difiiculty, so near did I seem to disso-
lution, laid upon hiui the solemn mjunction
that the document, urging the marriage,
should not be opened, under any condi-
tions, until two years had elapsed from my
decease; and that if, at the end of that

St. Pierre's Storij.

[Jan.

time, it appeared that the consent of the
other party could not be obtained for the
marriage, the paper should be destroyed,
and its contents remain a secret with him-
self.

Although my eyes at that moment were
somewhat dimmed with the film of a threat-
ened dissolution, I remember well the flush
of astonishment and pleasure which passed
over the features of my friend when he
learned the contents of the papers. A
dreadful misgiving smote upon my heart
with such violence, my very life seemed to
fail under it, and from that instant all was
a blank.

On rousing from this trance, which had
lasted I knew not how long, I found my-
self lying in the cabin of a ship, attended
by a French surgeon. The change of sit-
uation, so apparently instantaneous, though
I learned afterwards that a full week had
elapsed, affected me like the loss of per-
sonal identity. And for some time I was
speechless, and trembled with fear and
astonishment. The surgeon began to
speak to me in French, calling me by
name, with many respectful and soothing
expressions. Soon, I recognized his fea-
tures and voice as those of an old friend
and companion in the army. As I grad-
ually acquired strength to bear it, he ex-
plained to me my situation.

It was supposed that I had died. After
the second day, fearing putrifaction, Eustis
had commanded my corpse to be sealed up
in a leaden coffin. It was thought proper
that my body should be sent to France, to
be placed with those of my ancestors, in
the family tomb at Aix, where I was a native.
My obsequies were celebrated with great
magnificence, and the coffin placed on ship
board on the third day, the ship setting
sail that very hour. The third day after,
while in the gulf, they met a violent storm,
which the mariners superstitiously attrib-
uted to the presence of a corpse on board.
A mutiny was raised in consequence, and
it was thought necessary to throw the cof-
fin with its contents into the sea. In
attempting, however, to bring it up from
the cabin, the sailors were terrified by a
movement within, and let their burden fall
down through the companion way. It
burst open with the shock, and discovered
the face of a person in a trance, but evi-
dently not dead. The surgeon being pres-

ent, insisted on a farther examination, and
soon discovered signs of life in the body.
The first effects of this astounding in-
telligence was to produce a stupefaction of
my senses, changing quickly into the delir-
ium of fever, which lasted, almost without
intermission, until we had gone far out on
the Atlantic. A gradual convalescence
enabled me, at length, to collect my
thoughts, and resolve upon a course of
conduct which I afterward pursued with a
strength of resolution natural to me, and
wholly independent of all scruples of con-
science. Indeed, such, until then, had
been my way of life, that ideas of right and
wrong had hardly made their appearance
in my thoughts. I was a man of honor, a
firm friend, a dangerous enemy, and a
keeper of promises, and that seemed to be
enough. My own will, and my proper
fame were the gods of my adoration.

The surgeon communicated every par-
ticular of the funeral. He described the
pale and almost deathful countenance of
my wife, the dignified grief of Eustis, the
lamentations of my fiiithful slaves, the sin-
cere sorrow of the neighbors. In regard
to all, I questioned him so closely and re-
peatedly he at length grew weary of the
topic, and refused to advert to it. I be-
came dissatisfied, and finally a suspicion
made a lodgment in my brain, that the
dignified sorrow of Eustis was, at best,
but a sham, and that my death had been
desired by him, and was rejoiced over in
secret.

Ellen abhorred the man. Why did she
so .'' Faultless herself, could she feel a
groundless abhorrence .'' Was it an idle
bias, or a well founded dislilfe .? Perhaps,
nay, probably, the latter. What a thrice
sodden ass was I, then, to entrust her hap-
piness in the keeping of one for whom she
had a real cause of hatred ! It was food
for bitter and exquisite regret.

But why, ah, why ! if that was so, did
she not open to her poor, deluded hus-
band, the reason of her dislike .'' Was it
just .? was it kind .? This, then, was a
fault in my reputed angel.

" But, stay. Women are frail. Weak-
ness and wickedness are sister and brother.
Perhaps my angel had another fault, gross-
er and more heinous ;" and with that, a dark
suspicion crossed me. Her aversion had
been only feigned, as a cover to something

1850.]

St. Pierre's Stony.

more than friendship. " Ah!" thought I,
" I have it now. Would Eustis have en-
dured, day after day, the presence of a
spirited woman who hated him, and who
did not conceal her hatred ? I could not
have done so, nor could he. Plainly, then,
her animosity was a ruse."

Going to sleep with resolutions of a jeal-
ous revenge, I would dream that I had
returned and was reconciled to Ellen.
Again I pressed her to my heart, and
waking, cursed the idle jealousy.

Now, I resolved only to have revenge
on Eustis, whose triumphant countenance,
as it appeared at the moment of my sup-
posed decease, haunted me like a vision of
hell. Torn both ways by adverse jealous-
ies, I resembled an unhappy soul for whom
two fiends are contending. One hurries
him toward the fire, the other toward the
ice. No merciful angel interposed to res-
cue me from their malicious talons. My
cries went up to heaven in vain.

Haggard and despairing, I landed at
Havre. A gift in money, amounting to a
considerable sum, had been sent over in
the care of the surgeon to my relations.
The ship, having discharged a part of her
cargo, moved off on a long voyage, and by
the promise of a sufficient bribe to be paid
them on their return, I imposed silence
on the Captain and his men. They were
soon after wrecked in the bay of Biscay,
and all on board lost. My secret was safe.
Under a feigned name I resided a year at
Paris, with hardly a companion but my
own direful imaginations. A hideous ex-
pression of despair appeared in my coun-
tenance, which made all men shun me.
My nearest friends would not then have
known me. My body became gaunt and
emaciated. My hair and beard, which I
now, for the first time, suffered to grow
long, changed from dark brown to gray.
My gait became unsteady and irregular,
like that of a drunkard, for which, indeed,
I was sometimes mistaken, though scarce
any thing beside bread and water passed
my lips.

A powerful constitution, however, after
a long continuance of this morbid misery
began to get the better even of despair, and
as my purse was nearly exhausted, it be-
came necessary for me to return to America.
During the homeward voyage I matured
my original resolution of never again

making myself known to Ellen, if the sus-
picion of her infidelity was confirmed.
But if it proved that Eustis only was the
deceiver, I would allow him to test her
afiection to the utmost until the two years
of her probation had fully elapsed.

I had assumed at Paris the name of St.
Pierre, and retained it ; trusting also for
an efiectual disguise to the change of coun-
tenance which sickness, gray hairs, and a
thick beard had given me ; to which I
added the black dress and grave demeanor
of a clergyman — the latter, indeed, involun-
tary, and brought upon me by the wear and
waste of sad meditation.

I arrived at New Orleans at midsummer.
The pestilence was raging in the city. The
streets were deserted. The wealthier pop-
ulation had removed into the interior, or
sought the cooler atmosphere of the North-
ern States. At the hotel I recognized an
old negro of my own, a carpenter by trade,
who by his industry and economy had ac-
quired a competency for himself and his
family. I had given this man his freedom
and a legacy in my will. He was the
steward of the house. Trusting to his
natural taciturnity and faithfulness, I sent
for him to my chamber, having first dark-
ened the room sufficiently to prevent too
sudden a recognition. I began by ques-
tioning him in regard to Eustis, and learned
with some difficulty from the old man, that
my estates had been lately sold by him,
and that he had gone to New York, taking
with him my child and supposed widow,
with the intention of remaining there, as
the health of mistress, he said, had decli-
ned very much since the death of his for-
mer master. Struck with a sudden and
poignant grief, I fell with my face upon the
bed upon which I had been sitting, and
wept aloud. The old man was very natu-
rally surprised at this exhibition, and in-
quired whether master was in any way re-
lated to mistress. I assented, and then told
him the story of my wonderful resuscitation.
After listening to the whole in silence he
came forward and fell at my feet. He
wept and sobbed with emotion. He said
that on first beholding me he did not think
it was I, but that he knew me by my voice
when I spoke of his mistress. Confirming
the fidelity of the old man by a present of
some valuable jewels, and the promise of
a larger douceur on my return, I engaged

St. Pierre's Story.

[Jan.

him to borrow for me a considerable sum,
and having now the means of prosecuting
my journey, the very next day I set sail
for New York, but not before ascertaining
the exact locality of Eustis and his charge
in that city.

A voyage full of peril and delay brought
me to my final destination, and to the
scene of the greatest wretchedness and fol-
ly of my life, at the close of the eighteenth
month after my supposed decease. I had
recovered something of my former strength,
and being an adept in several languages,
I engaged myself as a teacher, and soon
found employment, and made a number of
acquaintances. Such however was the
weakness of my spirit, I did not dare even
to inquire for the names of my former wife
and friend, and a full fortnight had elapsed
before I gained resolution to pass by the
windows of the house where they were liv-
ing.

On first passing, I did not dare look up.
My heart beat violently, my knees smote
together ; a crowd of dreadful suscipions
rushed upon me, and subdued the rapture
of so near an approach to the sole being
for whom I lived. Two days after I ven-
tured again, but not without fear of the
too violent effects of emotion upon a sys-
tem weakened as mine was by suffering and
disease.

The mansion had the name of Eustis
on the door. It was elegant, spacious, and
in a wealthy quarter. Can it be, thought
I that they are married ! Then farewell
life, and farewell joy. But stay, I will at
least inquire. A nurse -maid leading a
little girl came out upon the steps. I ad-
dressed her, shuddering like one in an ague.
Does Mr. James Eustis reside here } The
girl, regarding me with a look of curiosity
and pity, replied that that house was not
Mr. James Eustis's, but that his brother
resided there. Another desperate effort
enabled me to ask, though my voice seem-
ed dead, whether a lady had come there
from the South. The maid answered yes,
and stooped down to comfort the little girl,
who, frightened at my bearded and haggard
face, stood trembling, and regarding me
with eyes askance. Putting her arms about
the child, she called her ' Ellen,' (a name
which I wept to hear,) comforting her fear,
as she led her away from me. It was my
own little Ellen. I stood, I know not how

long, looking after them ; and then, more
like one dead than alive, went away slowly,
for my feet were heavy with grief.

On making inquiry of my landlady, who
was a laundress, I learned that the sup-
posed widow was residing in the house of a
married brother of Eustis, and that a mar-
riage was talked of between the young wi-
dow and a rich southern lawyer, a brother
of the gentleman at whose house she was
living. My landlady, a talkative busy-bo-
dy, had interested herself very much in
my affairs, and I dared not ask many ques-
tions of her. Each day after this, I pass-
ed by the dwelling of my beloved, and
loitered at the corners of the streets hard
by. Sometimes the nurse would appear,
leading my daughter with her, and it grati-
fied and soothed me to perceive she re-
sembled her mother both in feature and
figure, and was of a beautiful countenance
and gentle disposition. You may imagine
the desire which possessed me to catch the
child in my arms as she passed by, but the
fear of discovery forbade it.

One evening, passing by on the other
side, I saw a bill posted on the small house
opposite the Eustis mansion, signifying that
it might be had furnished for a moderate
rent. The opportunity was too good to be
missed. Without a day's delay I took the
house, and engaged as servant a German,
who spoke no language but his own. The
windows of my new home were furnished
with blinds, through which one could see
without being seen. To penetrate further
into the obscurity of the dwelling opposite,
I procured a telescopic glass, which reveal-
ed every thing not hidden by a shutter or
a curtain. You smile, — well — it was no
impertinent curiosity.

The Elustis mansion, as I have told you,
was in a fashionable quarter. Daily and
nightly, equipages stood before its entrance.
I learned in a few days to distinguish the
occupants. There were but six, and at
least double the number of servants and
attendants. Among the latter I observed
a negro woman, who had served my wife
in the capacity of a nurse, and who was a
faithful and devoted friend to her. This
woman, though a slave, was of a charac-
ter superior to her station, but subtle and
intriguing. I suspected her of being in
the interest of Eustis.

One morning, while observing liie oppo-

1S50.]

St. Pierre^s Stony.

site chamber with my glass, through the
half closed blinds, I saw a lady in deep
mourning at the window. She looked out
for an instant, and withdrew. A film
came over my eyes, and prevented my dis-
tinguishing anything with certainty, but
the air and figui-e resembled those of my
wife. This was the sixth occupant of the
iiumsion, the other five consisting of Mr.
Eustis, his wife, and two daughters, very
beautiful tall girls, and a lad of sixteen, his
younger brother. The sixth then, 1 had
no doubt was my heart's idol.

The nurse came out every morning when
the weather permitted, with my daughter,
but I avoided being seen by them, though
I watched carefully to have a sight of my
child each day. It was the only happiness
of that time.

As a teacher of languages, without any
special efibrt, I had acquired, under the
name of St. Pierre, a fashionable reputa-
tion. A suspicion of insanity had attached
itself to me, but the gravity of my foreign,
indeed Asiatic, manners, a lean pale visage,
hollow eyes, and a voice subdued by sor-
row, made me an object of interest with
the softer sex. I soon found myself ac-
quainted with many persons of wealth and
good standing, who were on terms of fa-
miliarity with the Eustises.

A thought occurred. Could I become the
instructor of my daughter, what an oppoi"-
tunity would that be ! It was first neces-
sary however, to increase my disguise.

My former friend Eustis, had been ab-
sent from the city, and was now returned.
I learned with certainty that my wife was
living with his brother, but in a secluded
manner, never appearing in society, and
seldom leaving her chamber, which was
in the rear of the mansion. But two
months time was wanting to complete the
two years of probation, and the marriage
was already talked of as an event to be
expected. It was even said that the pre-
parations for the wedding, which was to be
costly and magnificent, were in progress.

There was no time to be lost. As a
more effectual concealment I adopted the
long robes and turban of an Asiatic. An
old scar across my forehead had re-opened
when I had a fever at Paris, and healing
badly, disfigured my brows, giving them an
unnatural contraction. My lessons were
given privately. I drove in a close car-

riage to all places of appointment. Instead
of losing reputation by these wilful eccen-
tricities I rather gained by it in the num-
ber and fashion of my pupils. My lessons
were in German and Italian. I left off
speaking French, and used commonly a
very broken kind of English, which became
habitual. I fancied I was secure against
recognition. The modern Greek dialect I
had learned in Egypt when a youth, and
by affecting the society and sympathy of
foreigners, I passed without suspicion for a
Mediterranean nondescript. JNIy name of
St Pierre was understood to be an as-
samied one.

Feeling now quite secure, I sought op-
portunities of introduction to the Eustises.
The endeavor was successful. I became
the teacher of my child. Each morning
I went over to her, and took her upon my
knees and taught her to lisp Italian, which
was the fashion of the day. Thus did I
stand upon the very threshold of a new
and happier life. The quiet and sweet
conduct of the child soothed away the ir-
ritation and despair which gnawed at my
heart.

The manners in the Eustis mansion
were gay and thoughtless. None of the
family, from the master downward, dis-
covered any interest in, or curiosity
about me. I was a teacher, a fashionable
nuisance, and the ladies of the family
learned in a few days to disregard my pres-
ence, as though I had been a dog or a de-
pendent relative. My teaching hour was
after breakfast, before visiting began. My
child and I were left together in a library
adjoining a parlor, immediately imder the
apartments of my Avife.

The chUd became attached to her teach-
er. The nurse left us alone together,
sometimes for more than an hour at a time.
I improved the opportunity, by asking a
number of questions. On one occasion,
Eustis came into the room, while my
daughter sat upon my knees with her
small fingers twisted in my beard. He
scowled upon my daughter, and turned
away hastily. She trembled violently and
clasped me tightly in her arms. At the
same moment, I heard a lady's footstep in
the hall. Eustis met the lady as she came
forward, and I heard the salutation that he
gave her lips.

They returned into the room where I

6§

>S^/. Pierre^ Story.

[Jan.

was sitting. The child slipped from my
knees and ran forward to embrace her mo-
ther. I sat for an instant like one turned
to marble, pulseless and breathless. But
the firm will did not desert me, and with
a grave Asiatic salutation, I rose and push-
ed forward a chair for the lady. Eustis
stood by in silence, while Ellen questioned
the teacher in her mild way, about the pro-
gress of her child. I replied in broken
English and in a thick voice, avoiding her
glance with my eyes. She was pale, fee-
ble, and emaciated, but wore an assumed
cheerfulness which cut me to the soul.
My confidence in her was restored.

Finding the disguise quite perfect, I be-
gan to feel at ease in it, and like one who
watches from a place of concealment, felt
a strange pleasure in the deception.

Eustis appeared to me in a new light.
He seemed harsh, selfish, and haughty.
Already he entertained the bitter feelings
of a step-father.

" You find it a very pleasant occupa-
tion, doubtless," said he to me, satirically,
"this teaching of babes to lisp languages."

I bowed respectfully, assenting.

" It is a waste of time and money, sir,
for fashion's sake," he continued. " Chil-
dren forget languages as quickly as they
learn them."

I answered in Italian, a language which
he spoke fluently, that it was a fashion in-
deed, but I thought a very elegant one.

He turned to Ellen. " Dearest, I would
send her into the country. The air of New
York does not suit the child."

She made no reply, but took her daugh-
ter in her arms, and after giving it a long
silent embrace, turned to him a look very
sad and petitioning, as if to say, " It is my
sole comfort, and would you take this
away."

His countenance darkened to a frown.
Turning away hastily, he left us, and I
heard the hall door close after him.

The hour, the very moment, had arriv-
ed. I deliberated.

I was once more alone with my wife and
my child. My disguise, thought I, is so
perfect, I need have no fear of detection.
If I declare myself now, what proof shall
I have to justify my revenge on my be-
trayer } Nay, what proof have I that he
has wronged or deceived me.? I must
have proofs relevant and sure. Let the

opportunity show itself. It has not yet
come.

As Eustis left the room, my daughter
looked after him with an expression of fear,
and turning to her mother, stammered out
some childish expressions, and then said
very distinctly, " Mamma, I've got a
secret, but I'll tell it to you first," and
getting up on my knees, she whisper-
ed, "I'd rather have you for my papa than
him ;" then running quickly to her mother,
she whispered the same to her, but loud
enough for me to hear.

Ellen blushed and silenced the child,
and after a brief interchange of indifferent
conversation, she thanked me for the kind-
ness I had shown her daughter, but signi-
fied at the same time that as it was her guar-
dian's wish that she should be sent into the
country for her health, the lessons would
be discontinued for the present.

There was no alternative. I must take
my leave, or discover myself, and that,
too, instantly. The former counsel pre-
vailed. I wished my revenge to be com-
plete. I rose and withdrew.

A month's interval remained, for it was
understood that the marriage would take
place on the 1st day of October. Eustis had
hired and was furnishing a splendid estab-
lishment. He came and went in his own
carriage, with liveried servants, paid, as my
jealousy informed me, out of the proceeds
of 711 y estates. Each day Ellen rode out
with him. They went alone together.
For six days or more I observed them from
my windows. They sat upon the same
seat in the carriage, he often with his arm
about her waist. I sharpened my revenge
upon such sights. I resolved almost im-
consciously upon his death.

Various rumors confirmed my suspicion
that his magnificence was at my cost.
Four plantations of the widow's, it was
said, were sold by him in Louisiana, re-
alizing half a million. The marriage was
held to be a mercenary project. The step-
child would be defrauded, perhaps killed
by neglect. My own name was never
mentioned. People seemed to have forgot-
ten that the child must have had a father,
and a widow a husband. But that was
nothing.

The days went rapidly by. There
wanted but ten to the fatal first of
October. I bethought me of the negro

1850.]

St. Pierre's Story.

nurse. I will try her, thouglit I, with a
bribe.

This woman was an Ashantee, a tribe
noted for cunning and intelligence. She
had attached herself to Ellen with the feel-
ing of a foster mother, and exercised a
great influence over her. Late that eve-
ning I watched for her at the corner of the
street, under the lamp, and as she passed
me I called her by name.

Linda, for that was the name of the
slave, carried a letter in her hand. As I
touched her shoulder, she started, and un-
consciously let it fall. A glance upon the
superscription showed the hand writing of
my wife, which was large and peculiar. I
stepped forward and set my foot upon the
letter to hide it from Linda, and then spoke
to her. A slouched hat and a heavy cloak
concealed my dress and features.

" Your mistress is not well," said J,
"but I have a receipt that will cure her."

" Who are you V

" I am a magician. Your mistress is
dying of an evU-eye."

The. woman was silent for a moment, and
seeing the impression which I had made, I
threw back the cloak and showed the beard
and features of the Italian teacher.

" Lor bless us, master, is it you .'"

" You know me .'' Well, here's money.
You can keep a secret, Linda. Tell no
person, not even your mistress, nor Mr.
Eustis, that you have seen me here, and I
will give you more money."

" Lor ! master is very generous — mas-
ter is a great gentleman : massy ! I'U go to
world's end for him !"

" You were sent to Mr. Eustis with a
letter."

" Yes ; Lor me, where is it ! I've lost
it ! What'U Missus say to that ! Christ
a' massy, I'm very miserable. 0, good
gentleman, find me the letter!" said she,
fumbling confusedly in her dress, and look-
ing up and down the pavement. " I'll
give 'e back 'e money, and a sight more to
find 'e letter."

" Meet me here to-morrow at this hour,
— it is nine o'clock, — and you shall have
the letter and money with it ; but be silent
now, and answer every question I ask you,
and take care how you deceive me, for fear
of the evil-eye that's on your mistress and
may be set on you too."

While she stood trembling and atten-

tive I put a number of questions relative
to the approaching marriage, and gathered
thus much : — That the marriage was a
forced one, and was contrary to the incli-
nation of the weaker party. That it had
been urged repeatedly by Eustis, but that
Ellen had put it off from month to month.
That it had twice before been agreed to,
and deferred by her repugnance. That
Eustis disliked the little girl, and succeed-
ed in removino; her from his sia;ht. That
Ellen had fallen sick in consequence, and
was thought to be very ill, but that the
marriage preparations went on as if no-
thing was the matter.

Gaining confidence by degress, the wo-
man communicated a variety of minute in-
formation, confirming my worst suspicions.
Of any injunction laid upon her mistress
by the former husband, however, she either
had no knowledge, or would communicate
none.

Finding that nothing further could be
gathered from this source, I sent her away,
and presently took up the letter which was
directed to James Eustis, Esq. I took it
home to my lodgings, and sat down with a
palpitating heart to its perusal.

It was a sad and humble petition for the
restoration of her child. It alluded to the
injunction, in a spirit of acquiescence. She
was ready to accomplish to the letter the
will of her former husband, but asked for
gentleness and forbearance from his friend
and successor.

Figure to yourself, if possible, the agony
of grief, passion, and remorse, that pos-
sessed me through that dreadful night.
Nature struggled with will. I longed, with
a feverish impatience, to go instantly and
clasp her to my bosom. Duty and incli-
nation urged it ; but the desire of a more
full and perfect revenge, aided by a singu-
lar feeling, in which there was a mixture of
fatalism, a kind of " biding of the time^'''>
held me back. O, for a grain of common
sense to break in upon and spoil the plots
of all high tragedies !

The next day, I met the woman at the
appointed place and hour, and gave her the
letter sealed as I had found it, and with
the same impression. My own seal ring
was the counterpart of my wife's, with a
slight difierence in the engraving of the
names, which would, I thought, escape de-
tection. The initial letters of both our

St. Pierre's Story.

[Jan.

names were engraved in cyphers on the
cornelians.

Admittance to Ellen had become im-
possible under any pretext. She denied
herself to every person. By the advice of
a physician, as I learned from common ru-
mor, her child was brought back and re-
stored to her.

The preparations for the wedding con-
tinued. It was said, that a moderate
fortune had been expended on them.
The furniture and hangings of the new
mansion, which I took pains to get a
sight of at the maker's, — thinking, indeed,
that the right owner of the property might,
at least, look at it, — was of the very rich-
est kind. These preparations, thought I,
are for my proper use and convenience.
When my false friend has furnished my
house, and is about to marry my wife, I
will step forward and take possession of
both. What farther ought to be done,
seemed uncertain. That Eustis deserved
death, was clear, and at my hands; but
whether it were wiser to let him live,
whether it were not more prudent to do so,
considering the character of the people
about me and the strictness of their laws
against homicide, gave me much doubt.
Whether to live quietly and happily with
Ellen, and leave God to punish her false
guardian, or whether to listen to the dark
suggestions of revenge, I struggled hard to
know. I meditated through nights of
fever, and days of gloom, and could arrive
at no conclusion. During a long acquain-
tance with misery I had forgotten the taste
of peace and happiness . The prospect of it
seemed dim and uncertain. Of the sweet-
ness of revenge, on the other hand, I had no
doubt, and the question of right or wrong
never once presented itself. I thought
only of pleasing the paramount desire.

A fever excited by these dreadful agita-
tions kept me in doors until the day pre-
ceding that which was announced for the
weddinc. The marriage was to be in
church, in the morning, with every cere-
mony. The bride would then enter the
mansion prepared for her by her new lord
and master.

"Vengeance! vengeance!" I whispered
constantly to myself. " Can you live
shameless without it } God, who made you,
commands it. He punishes the deceiver
by the hand of the deceived. Nature cries

out for it. Can you live happily with a
wife injured first by your own folly, and
then by the treachery of a false villain to
whom you gave power over her, without
full and ample reparation 1 enduring for her
sake and honor the danger of the law and
the anger of the people — revenging her
own and your injuries as no law will or can
avenge them .''

Struggling with these doubts, and long-
ing with a keen desire for their peaceful
and happy solution, I wandered all night
through the streets of the city. The
closeness and silence of my chamber was
intolerable. Toward morning I came to
the house where my wife was, and sat
down upon the marble steps. A kind of
sleep came upon me like a trance. I fan-
cied that Ellen leaned out at the window,
and with a pale and dejected countenance
besought me for her sake not to become a
murderer. The watchman passing, aroused
me. It was just dawn. The gloom of an
October storm, darkened by a foggy haze,
rather agreed with and diminished the hor-
rors of my mind. A gleam of divine
mercy shot athwart the darkness of my
soul. I resolved that Eustis should not
die. I would be present in church to
forbid the bans, but without weapons
Ellen, thought I, is feeble, and the horrors
of a scene of death might destroy her.
Let him live, and God be the avenger.

The hour of the ceremony was ten in
the morning. The precious interval was
employed by me in restoring my person as
far as possible to its former appearance. I
procui'ed a suit such as I had been accus-
tomed to wear when I first knew Ellen.
My great beard shaved away, and every
attention given to restore my person to its
former looks ; I fortified myself with food,
which I had not tasted for thirty-six hours.

An hour before the expected time I stood
upon the steps of the small chapel appoint-
ed for the ceremony. The doors were al-
ready open, and a throng of people of all
conditions, attracted by the scandal of the
match, and the fashionable notoriety of the
Eustises, were assembled in the galleries and
aisles to witness the marriage. After some
diificulty, and with a tempest of secret
agitation, I found a place suitable for con-
cealment behind a pillar, from which I could
step forward at the right moment. Having
a long time to wait, I employed the dread-

1850.]

>S^/. Pierre's Story.

ful interval in again revolving the resolu-
tion that had so long occupied me. The
spirit of mercy prevailed a second time,
and I resolved chiefly for her sake to let
him live. That I was myself more guUty
than he, conscience had not j^et suggested.
That was an after thought.

The strokes of the great bell, counting
the tenth hour, smote one by one through
my brain, and silenced the pulses of my
heart. There was a murmur in the crowd
as they gave way on either hand for the
the bridal party. Of these I saw and re-
member two only, as they stood before the
altar. The solemn voice of the clergyman
repeating the forms of prayer and exhor-
tation sounded idly and tediously in my
ears.

Eustis stood upright, with a countenance
aflfecting coolness and resolution. It was a
look that defied congratulation. His glances
went scornfully from side to side. And
yet no feelings of hatred, nor any stir of
revenge possessed me. Pale and trembling,
and with a face of death-like sadness, El-
len stood by him, supported on either side
by Eustis and one of the bridesmaids.
Her eyes were heavy, and sank constantly.
I stepped gradually nearer during the first
part of the ceremony, until I could have
caught her in my arms had she fallen, for
the throng was great around us. When
it was bidden by the clergyman to all pre-
sent, if they knew of any obstacle why those
two should not be joined together, to declare
it, an involuntary voice rose to my throat,
and pronounced the words, " this lady has
a husband living, and I am he."

A dead silence followed. Ellen turned
her head slowly, as if roused from a trance,
and seeing me directly behind her, sank
down silently, as it were, all of a heap. I
sprang forward and caught her in my arms.
She was still conscious, and murmured in
a voice hardly audible, " why not sooner
dearest V After that came for her an
eternal silence. Fool ! I had killed her.

I remember nothing distinctly that fol-
lowed. Eustis had turned to support Ellen
as she fell, and I struck him at the same in-
stant a blow upon the neck. He too, died
soon after, of the injury. My life since
then has been one of solitude and repen-
tance, but now as I relate these things, a
gleam of comfort crosses the night of re-
collection. My wife loved me to the last.
I was the tempter of my friend, and if he
fell under too strong a temptation, I had
surrendei'ed under a less one. The fiend
Jealousy overmastered me, but now, thank
God, I have what I had not then, a Con-
science."

The features of the hermit, which had
become pale and agitated as he approached
the conclusion of his story, regained their
sober tranquillity. He looked at me with
an abstracted gaze, as if he had been
speaking only to himself, and when I made
an effort to reply, he rose and went into
the house, closing the door after him as
though no one had been near. The sha-
dows were already descending the hill sides
and lengthening in the vallies. I arose,
and returning almost unconscious of the
way, pursued my journey full of sad but
salutary thoughts.

VOL. V. NO. 1. NEW SERIES.

Poems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana. [Jan.

POEMS AND PROSE WRITINGS OF RICHARD H. DANA.*

Having several times, through these
columns, joined in the solicitations which
have been frequently made to Mr. Dana
for many years past, to collect and repub-
lish his writings, we hardly need commence
a notice of them by saying that we are
glad to possess them at last, in this conve-
nient and beautiful form. But we must
not be suspected of having urged their re-
publication from any other motive than the
wish to read them ; as for reviewing them
there was no such design.

And we undertake the task now with a
very lively sense of the force of the line
" non omnis fert omnia tellus.'''' To
analyze the characteristics, and present a
fair portrait of such a writer as Dana, is
a labor from which we recoil with a feeling
of being too old and worn. There might
have been a time, so the mind flatters it-
self, but not now. We can only read him
and derive vigor from contact with his spir-
it, and prattle discursively of his excellen-
cies and defects, without attempting to sum
them or classify them. In a word, we can
examine him critically only as we do a
landscape in nature, under different as-
pects ; such a cloud is fine, such a river
beautiful, such a rock harsh, we say, mere-
ly as they happen to strike us, without
presuming to unify or find causes for these
effects. Even this much we enter upon
with a kindred misgiving as to the result,
though not precisely in the same spirit
with Macbeth, when he abandons his
castle for the plain — and our only excuse
with the reader must be, that it is our vo-
cation— " it is no sin for a man to labor in
his vocation."

Dana's earliest productions were an es-
say called " Old Times," and several re-
view articles, contributed to the North
American Review in the years 1817-19.
" The Idle Man" was published in New
York in 1821-22. The first edition of

his poems appeared in 1827. That year
he contributed a review of Brockden Brown,
to the United States Review and Literary
Gazette, and in the four following years,
three other reviews to other magazines. In
1833, he published the second edition of
his poems, and tales from the Idle Man,
and the same year furnished an essay to
the American Quarterly Observer. Two
years after, in 1835, he sent another essay,
" Law as suited to Man," to the same
publication. Since that time he has not
come before the public as an author untU
now, in these volumes, which include all
that we have enumerated, with some addi-
tions. The poems and tales had been for
some years out of print, and the reviews
were mostly unknown ; of some of them
we never saw the names until we saw them
here.

These volumes may therefore be regard-
ed as almost a new publication. They are
new to most readers, and are in themselves
as fresh as if written yesterday. They be-
gin with the poems, which, though they are
the best known, and have been commented
on before in these pages, (three or four
years ago,) we must be permitted to linger
over awhile before speaking of the essays.

The first and largest of the poems, the
Buccaneer, has long since taken its rank
among our descriptive classics. It is a
piece of remarkable originality, power and
beauty — the most purely artistic, that is,
impersonal, and remote from individual
experience, of any of its author's writings.
The conception of the story, and the
world it takes us into, are as new and pe-
culiar as they are in the Ancient Mariner,
The sea views are as exact as Crabbe's,
and far more beautiful ; the pirates, the
hero, the scenery, and more than all, the
spirit steed, were uncreated before ; they
are all the genuine offspring of the poetic
fancy, and are managed with that power

* Poems and Prose Writings.
Baker & Scribner. 1850.

By Richard Henry Dana. In two volumes. New York :

1850.] Foems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana.

which brings them all in as congruous parts
uniting in a harmonious whole. The piece
is also full of beauties in detail, of the
highest order ; it is full of examples of
painting by words, and of the power of
flashing a scene upon the eye by a single
phrase. It bears evidence throughout to a
rare delicacy and refinement of character ;
there is nothing common in it, nothing that
lets the reader unpleasantly down, or gives
the sense of feigning which comes from
pseudo-poetry.

On the contrary, the most remarkable
quality to us in it, is the power with which
it is carried through over a very rough and
jagged roadway of style. The wonder is,
that we are not thrown out. For the me-
tre is a difficult one to manage with efiect,
owing to the fullness of its cadence ; and
the abrupt transitions, strange inversions,
and tumultuous utterance of the sentences
are beyond all example. It is an instance
of a poem conceived in the boldness and
free power of high genius, and executed
in the constraint of " slow endeavoring
art." If we may apply the word as it is
frequently used in common parlance, it is
a "nervous" poem; it is strong and fine,
occasionally free, and easy sweeping, but
generally over rigid. It does the thing it
attempts, but does it laboriously. On the
whole, it is a rare example of genius soar-
ing with fettered wings, and ranks among
descriptive poems, as Milton's Ode on the
Nativity does among lyrics — a piece which,
though it has many stanzes quite above ad-
miration, was yet felt by its author to be
somewhat harshly executed.

The Introduction to the Buccaneer has
always been justly admired. To all who
grew up through youth on the shore of the
Narraganset, it, and indeed all the sea
scenes in the poem, must have the power
of reality ; with us their impression is in-
termingled with views about Newport ; we
have always an indistinct notion that there
is an island somewhere between Gayhead
and Brenton's reef, to the south-west ot
Cuttyhunk, (romantic name!) which is
this island — and this idea is no less vivid
than the one derived from actual observa-
tion.

" The island lies nine leagues away.
Along its solitary shore,
Of craggy rock and sandy bay,
No sound but ocean's roar,

Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her

home,
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling

foam.

But when the light winds lie at rest,
And on the glassy, heaving sea,
The black duck, with her glossy breast,
Sits swinging silently, —
How beautiful ! no ripples break the reach,
And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach.

And inland rests the green, warm dell ;

The brook comes tinkling down its side ;

From out the trees the Sabbath bell

Rings cheerful, far and wide.
Mingling its sound withbleatings of the flocks,
That feed about the vale among the rocks.

Nor holy bell, nor pastoral bleat,

In former days within the vale ;

Flapped in the bay the pirate's sheet;

Curses were on the gale ;
Rich goods lay on the sand, and murdered

men;
Pirate and wrecker kept their revels then.

But calm, low voices, words of grace,

Now slowly fall upon the ear ;

A quiet look is in each face,

Subdued and holy fear ;
Each motion gentle; all is kindly done. —
Come, listen how from crime the isle was won."

The first three stanzas of this are exqui-
site ; in the fourth, we do not like " pas-
toral bleat," — perhaps from a remote sug-
gestion of something heard before, e. g.
"oaten stop, or pastoral song." " Flap-
ped in the bay," is like an unexpected
blow ; and the having every line a clause
by itself in the sentence, seems to give it a
sudden unnatm'al intensity. But the next
resumes and concludes the melody with a
beautiful half-cadence in the last line.

We have not space to follow through the
piece ; it has many such beautiful stan-
zas as the following :

"Who's sitting on that long, black ledge,

Which makes so far out in the sea,

Feeling the kelp-weed on its edge 1

Poor, idle Matthew Lee !

So weak and pale "? A year and little more.

And bravely did he lord it round the shore.

And on the shingle now he sits,
And rolls the pebbles 'neath his hands ;
Now walks the beach ; now stops by fits,
And scores the smooth, wet sands ;

Toems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana. [Jan.

Then tries each cliff, and cove, and jut, that

bounds
The isle ; then home from many weary rounds.

He views the ships that come and go,
Looking so like to living things.
0 ! 't is a proud and gallant show
Of bright and broad-spread wings,
Making it light around them, as they keep
Their course right onward through the un-
sounded deep.

And v/here the far-off sand-bars lift
Their backs in long and narrow line,
The breakers shout, and leap, and shift,
And toss the sparkling brine
Into the air ; then rush to mimic strife :
Glad creatures of the sea, and full of life ! —

A sweet, low voice, in starry nights.

Chants to his ear a plaining song ;

Its tones come winding up the heights,

Telling of woe and wrong ;
And he must listen till the stars grow dim,
The song that gentle voice doth sing to him.

0, it is sad that aught so mild
Should bind the soul with bands of fear ;
That strains to soothe a little child,
The man should dread to hear.
But sin hath broke the world's sweet peace, —

unstrung
The harmonious chords to which the angels
sung."

There are also many by which we might
illustrate our notion of the roughness, the
too sudden changes of thought and the
general tone of the style, which requires
the use of too many interrogations and ex-
clamations.

" It scares the sea-birds from their nests ;
They dart and wheel with deafening

screams ,
Now dark, — and now their wings and

breasts
Flash back disastrous gleams.
Fair Light, thy looks strange alteration wear ; —
The world's great comforter, — why now its
fear ?"

The fourth line intends a fine picture, but
the " disastrous gleams" afflicts us, we
hardly know why, unless because it bears an
indistinct resemblance to the " thundering
voice, and threatening mien, and scream-
ing horror's funeral cry," of Gray ; also in

the Shakspearian " strange alteration,"
does not the accent with which we are
forced by the measure to prolong the word
" alteration" weaken the line ? And is
not the last couplet, and especially the
form in which the idea of the last line is
expressed, more singular than natural ?

At all events, if we may judge from our
own experience, this peculiarity of style
and thought in the Buccaneer must always
hinder the mass of intelligent readers from
doing it justice, or feeling and acknowl-
edging its beauty as a whole ; it is only we
who have omnivorous stomachs, and have
long indulged them, who can relish food in
which is mingled sweet and bitter, each of
such acrid strength.

For a different reason, the Changes of
Home will also never be a favorite with
the multitude. It springs from a character
too sincere, too intense and delicate in feel-
ing, and shows such a command of grief —
grief which the soul must have felt or be
capable of conceiving, in order to per-
ceive the power of him who can depict it
— that it cannot touch directly and com-
pletely the common heart. Few could
suffer what is here controlled. The gen-
eral breast of humanity, at least in these
days of enterprise and bustle, is insensible,
fortunately perhaps, to the soothed anguish
of spirit which colors this poem.

We talk a great deal about love between
men and women ; we understand it — on
the stage. But how little are its powers
and the necessities of them thought of in
actual life. Go mad for love, like Jane
Vere ! The girl must have a weak head.
Suffer for love, like Dalton ! The young
man's " crazy" — a phenomenon. There
are no such creatures in nature. We be-
lieve that to more than half the world the
genuine passion is a mere name ; and that
to another large proportion it is wholly con-
ventional— something which they can con-
ceive of, as we do of the extravagant hon-
or in Kotzebue's heroes, or the magic of
Prospero's wand — but which is never sup-
posed to exist in, much less influence, our
real life, we being put here just to he pru-
dent— to invent new machines, make mo-
ney and be invited to larger parties.

And as with love, so with all the tender
affections. They are much talked of but
little felt. The peculiar home-sickness
which pervades this poem, the mellow au-

1850.] Poems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana.

tumnal light that shines over it, who is
there that can feel its warm rays ? Who
has suffered from long absence from early
scenes, and contemplated in sadness the
changes wrought by time among early
companions ? Not many in sufficient de-
gree to relish the characteristic beauty of
this poem.

"How like eternity doth nature seem
To life of man, — that short and fitful dream !
I look around me ; nowhere can I trace
Lines of decay that mark our human race.
These are the murmuring waters, these the

flowers
1 mused o'er in my earlier, better hours.
Like sounds and scents of yesterday they

come. —
Long years have past since this was last my

home !

Yet there was one true heart : that heart was

thine,
Fond Emmeline ! and every beat was mine.
It stopt. — That stillness ! — up it rose, and

spread
Above me, awing, vast, strange, living, — dead!
No feeble grief that sobs itself to rest, —
Benumbing grief, and horrors filled my breast :
Dark death, and sorrow dark, and terror

blind,—
They made my soul to quail, they shook my

mind, —
Wild rushings passed me as of driving wind.

The storm went o'er me. Once again I

stand
Amid God's works, — his broad and lovely land.
I cannot feel, though lovely all I see ;
It is not what it was, — no, not to me ;
A void is in my soul ; my heart is dry :
They touch me not, — these things of earth and

sky.
E'en grief hath left me now ; my nerves are

steel ;
Dim, pangless dreams my thoughts ; — Would

1 could feel !
0, look on me in kindness, sky and earth !
Companions were we almost from my birth.
Yet stir once more within me that pure love,
Which went with me by fountain, hill, and

grove.
Delights I ask not of ye ; let me weep
Over your beauties ; let your spirit sweep
Across this dull, still desert of the mind ;
0, let me with you one small comfort find !
The world, the world has stript me of my

joy:

Bless me once more ; ye blest me when a boy."
Where shall wc find readers to feel this

passion .'' There may be those, as we have
observed, who can conceive it superficially ;
but to the greater part, yes, even among
women, this must seem affectation. " No
feeble grief that sobs itself to rest;" " this
is pure pride, Mr. Dalton," they will ex-
claim to themselves. " You flatter your-
self you are so much finer than other peo-
ple that you think you ought to suffer
more, and so you make yourself miserable.
Set to work, man ; leave off thinking upon
it. We have our troubles too, but we took
resolution, and forgot them."

Such Polonius-like overwise folks should
remember that ■

" it is as proper to' their age

To cast beyond themselves in their opmions,
As it is common for the younger sort
To lack discretion."

They will not believe that there are spirits
more affectionate than theirs, in which also
the sentiments are more awake, and the
memory more retentive. Would God they
could ! Would they could see the sorrow
they daily cause in the affairs of life by ar-
rogant interference ! Would they could
perceive how they bear down and oppress
the more retiring and more deeply sensi-
tive natures with whom they come in con-
tact ! But no, they must go on, such is
the mystery of Providence, parcelling out
the race, visiting their own sins upon their
children, condemning their sons to resolu-
tion and their daughters to patience, till
they attain the same induration which they
themselves possess, and are ready to renew
the never ending series.

But at long intervals, the same Provi-
dence permits the angel visits of true po-
ets— they who can " suffer and be strong,"
who love what is beautiful, hate what is
false, and dare to speak in free words.
They seem to be sent to agitate and warm
up the life-blood that would otherwise
thicken and congeal around the heart.
With them the words love, beauty, faith,
are not mere words, but the names of re-
alities ; and they live in the open air, out
of the reach of what is dark and mean.
All that is lovely and tender in life grows
around them ; they are followed, if not by
the love of those who ought most to desire
home-felt joys, at least by the affection of
those to whose spuits their sphit has im-
parted strength.

Poems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana. [Jan^

We have never felt this so strongly in
the case of any other writer as with Dana.
Both in his prose and poetry he comes to
us like one who has thought and felt as we
have thought and felt ourselves — insomuch
that we might almost apply to him the
words of the woman of Samaria. It was
not always so ; this poem, the Changes of
Home, in boyhood, affected us so gloomily,
that we could never read it with pleasure.
Now it inspires us with a strong rapture,
makes us feel less alone, and more deter-
mined, not because " misery loves compa-
ny," but because here is one who soars
above sorrows that encompass us, and cries
for life out of the Valley of the Shadow
of Death.

It is this great power which we would
make the first characteristic quality of all
Dana's writings. He speaks to us from
^'out of the deep." For those who have
not, or can not, suffer, he has not written.
Nor is it for all those who can, that he
writes. It is mostly for those who 7iave.
And of these, they will understand him
best who have groped their way through
the peculiar gloom of New England Cal-
vinism, who have been driven back into
darkness from youth. To those bred un-
der pleasanter influences, he must seem
austere, and his thought minutely common.
He is the hero who has fought through the
mental diseases entailed upon the descend-
ants of the Puritans. Old cherished pre-
judices come through him fanned and win-
nowed. "This and that," we say to
ourselves, as we read in him, " is what we
would have thought before, only that we
dared not think it." In him it appears
something which he had observed from a
level quite above it. — But we are antici-
pating ourselves in saying what applies
with most force to his prose.

Is there none of our readers who, from
any cause, " the heart-ache, or any of the
thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir
to," have felt deeply enough to have ex-
perienced this utter waste and desolation
of spirit ?

" The spring was come again. — There is a
grief
Finds soothing in the bud, and bird, and leaf,
A grief there is of deeper, withering power,
That feels death lurking in the springing flower,
That stands beneath the sun, yet circled round

By a strange darkness, — stands amid the sound
Of happy things, and yet in silence bound ;
Moves in a fearful void amid the throng,
And deems that happy nature does it wrong j
Thinks joy unkind ; feels it must walk alone,
That not on earth is one to hear its moan,
Or bring assuaging sympathies, or bind
A broken heart, or cheer a desert mind."

If not they can not with us derive a com-
fort, feigned, if they must so style it, from
the thought of the following : — _ . ,

" I know, decay nor age awaits on truth ;
And he who keeps a simple heart and kind
May something there of early feelings find.
For in all innocent and tender hearts
A spirit dwells that cheerful thoughts imparts ;
'Midst sorrows, sunny blessings it bestows
On those who think upon another's woes."

Nor will such be able ever to appreciate
clearly, as observers, much less to feel the
loftiness, of the conclusion to the Thoughts
upon the Soul: —

" Creature all grandeur, son of truth and

light, .

Up from the dust ! the last great day is bright,
Bright on the Holy Mountain, round the

Throne,
Bright where in borrowed light the far stars

shone.
Look down ! the Depths are bright ! — and

hear them cry,
'Light! light!' — Lookup! 'tis rushing down

from high !
Regions on regions, far away they shine :
'T is light ineffable, 'tis light divine!
' Immortal light, and life for evermore,'
Off through the deeps is heard from shore to

shore
Of rolling worlds ! — Man^ wake thee from the

sod;
Awake from death! awake, and live with

God!"

The poem, Factitious Life, is a fine ser-
mon in verse against the superficiality of
the world and in defence of true feeling.
It is to our soi disant "good society,"
what Burns' "Holy Fair" was to the " un-
co guid" of the Scottish peasantry. A
beautiful elegance pervades it in its versi-
fication, which is peculiarly easy, its lan-
guage, its satire, and its seriousness. It
has the best qualities of Pope and Cowper,
translated, as it were, into our social life.
We would there were more room for quo-
tation. There are many truths in this

1850.] Poems and Frose Writings of Richard H. Dana.

poem almost as true as they were in 1827.
For instance : —

" The youth enacts the sage, contemns the

dead,
Lauds his own times, and cries, Go up, bald

head!
Misses and little masters read at school
Abridged accounts of government and rule :
Word-wise, and knowing all things, nothing

know ; —
Would reap the harvest ere the ground they

sow.
The world's reversed; boy politicians spout;
And age courts youth, lest youth should turn

him out.

The child is grown as cautious as three-
score ;
Admits, on proof, that two and two are four.
He to no aimless energies gives way ;
No little fairy visions round him play ;
He builds no towering castles in the sky.
Longing to climb, his bosom beating high;
Is told that fancy leads but to destroy ;
You have five senses: follow them, my boy!
If feeling wakes, his parents' fears are such,
They cry. Don't, dearest, you will feel too
much."

Afterwards the poet speaketh concerning
the young ladies :

" 0, no, it was not so when I was young;
No maiden answered love in such a tongue.
Or cared for planets in conjunction brought ;
With her, 'twas heart to heart, and thought

to thought.
She tell what blood her veins and arteries fill !
Enough for her to feel its burning thrill.
She gaze upon the moon, as if she took
An observation ! Love was in her look,
All gentle as the moon. Herself perplex
With light original, or light reflex !
Enough for her " By thy pale beam," to say,
" Alone and pensive, I delight to stray ;
And watch thy shadow trembling in the

stream."
0 maid, ttirice lovelier than thy lovely dream !

And is the race extinct ? Or where is hid
She, with the blushing cheek and downcast lid,
Tremblingly delicate, and like the deer,
Gracefully shy, and beautiful in fear ?
Who wept with good La Roche, heard Harley

tell
His secret love, then bid to life farewell 1 —
Dreamed of Venonfs cottage in the vale,
And of Sir Edward senseless, bleeding, pale 1

Now-a-days, since they have become learn-
ed, they dream of Ernest Maltravers, and i
that excellent man, Mr. Rochester — he- |

roes of the intellectual order, at the same
time very good and very wicked — such
characters as afford them an opportunity to
apply their metaphysics. Your plain gen-
tlemen, such as Harriet Byron fell in love
with, are gone out of fashion :

" But here a youthful pair. What think you

now ?
The friends agreed; say, shall they take the

vow 1
Connections quite respectable all round,
And ample property, and titles sound.

Most certainly an eligible match.
Estates so lit, like patch well set to patch.

'Tis strange none thought of it before !

My friend.
How fit their minds 1 And do their feelings
blend •?

Why, as to these I have not yet" inquired.
What more than I have said can be desired 1
They'll learn to like each other by and by.
'Tis not my business into hearts to pry
After such whims. Besides, what them con-
tents.
Contents me too. Come, let us sum their rents.
Houses in town,— say ten

Nay, join their hands.
Boggle at hearts ! We ne'er should join their

lands !
Though rough and sharp below, what then,

forsooth 1
Custom and art will make the srnface smooth
To the world's eye, o'er this McAdam way
Of wedded life. We'll have no more delay,
But join them straight. — The pair have made

a trade, —
Contract in lands and stocks 'twixt man and

maid !
Partners for life, club chances, — weal or woe !
Hangout the sign ! There, read ! — A.B. & Co. !

And do unsightly weeds choke up the gush
Of early hearts 1 Are all the feelings hush
And lifeless now, that would have sent their

sound
In unison, where young hearts throb and

bound ?
Tear up the weeds and let the soul have play ;
Open its sunless fountains to the day ;
Let them flow freely out ; they make thy

wealth.
Bathe thy whole being in these streams of

health,
And feel new vigor in thy frame ! — A boy !
And weigh thy pelf with love ! — against a joy
That lifts the mind and speaks it noble, gives
Beauty ethereal, in which it lives

Poems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana, [Jan.

A life celestial here, on earth, — e'en here !
What Canst thou give for this, and call it dear T
0, it is past all count ! Pray, throw thee by
Thy tables; trust the heart ; the tables lie.
Let not thy fresh soul wither in its spring.
Water its 'tender shoots, and they shall bring
Shelter to age. Then sit and think how blest
Have been thy days, thank God, and take thy

rest.
Sell not thy heart for gold, then, not for lands;
'Tis richer far than all Pactolus' sands ;
And where on earth would run the stream to

lave
The curse away, and thy starved soul to save "?

We have often thought that our women,
whose duty it is to be the comforters and
preservers of the race, ought to reverence
above all other men, a true Anglo-Saxon
poet ; we do not mean a mere verse maker,
but one who is a poet in his whole being.
For such as he are the great conservators
of the family ; as women give shape and
character to our bodies, so do the poets
mould and direct our souls ; if our women
were to turn untrue, then in a few genera-
tions we should grow loutish, uncouth,
French-like ; and should finally dwindle
away as other nations have done. So, if
we had no poets to stand up for the old he-
roism, the mean souls would get the upper
hand, and the result would be that we
should have to fight over again with the
sword, for all that has been gained through
the long triumphs of the noble qualities of
our blood. Through the hearts of all true
souls runs this essence of the poet's being,
this ineradicable love of beauty, this firm
integrity and confidence in men and wo-
men ; the air about them is clear, the sky
blue above, and all the flowers that beguile
our way through this vale of tears, spring
up around them — lover's trust, household
affections, the beauty of nature, friendship,
mutual reliance among men in the affairs of
life, respect for age, reverence for law,
faith in God.

'' Nay, look on Nature's face, and find
Kind, gentle graces, thoughts to raise
The tired spirit, — hope and praise.

0, kind to me, in darkest hour
She led me forth, with gentle power.
From lonely thought, from sad unrest,
To peace of mind, and to her breast
The son, who always loved her, pressed ;
Called up the moon to cheer me ; laid
Its silver light on bank and glade, _

And bade it throw mysterious beams

O'er ice-clad hill, which steely gleams

Sent back, a knight who took his rest.

His burnished shield above his breast.

The fence of long, rough rails, that went

0"er trackless snows, a beauty lent;

Glittered each cold and icy bar

Beneath the moon, like shafts of war.

And there a lovely tracery

Of branch and twig that naked tree

Of shadows soft and dim has wove, "

And spread so gently, that above

The pure white snow it seems to float

Lighter than that celestial boat.

The silver-beaked moon, on air, —

Lighter than feathery gossamer ;

As if its darkening touch, through fear,

It held from thing so saintly clear.

Thus Nature threw her beauties round me ;
Thus from the gloom in which she found me.
She won me by her simple graces,
She wooed me with her happy faces.

There is a delightful music in this. The
"Pleasure Boat" with its "crinkling
mast," and the "thresher's flail," is ano-
ther still livelier strain, yet with a touch of
sadness. The " Little Beach Bird" is
just one of those memory-haunting things,
like Bryant's " Water-fowl." The "Clump
of Daisies" has the true Herrick melody.
The " Early Spring Brook" is one of those
sad, low chants peculiar to Dana ; it is less
lofty than the " Dying Raven," or the
" Husband and Wife's Grave," but it is
breathed from the same suffering, patient
spirit. It seems a sacrilege to quote a line
of it. Most of those minor pieces have
been long familiarized to the popular ear
through school reading books, and various
Griswoldian publications.

We now come to the tales and essays
from the Idle Man, Tom Thornton, Ed-
ward and Mary, Paul Felton, and The Son.
Tom Thornton is full of that which Dana
only could have written ; the weak mother,
the passionate father — all the characters
are analyzed and their thoughts and motives
explained while they are developed ; yet as
a whole this story has always seemed to us
heavy — because, perhaps, it is too gloomy,
too sadly life-like, and makes us think too
much. Edward and Mary is an old favor-
ite ; the love scenes in it are as refined,
delicate, and touching as any that ever
were written ; but we used to think, and
still do, that the mere loss of fortune should
never have occasioned the separation.

1850.] Poems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana,

*' Better is a dinner of lierbs" — and j'oung
men and women ought never to marry if
they are afraid to take each other " for
better or worse." A husband one loves is
worth the sacrifice of a piano or a shawl ;
and to toil for such a young lady as Mary
would be pleasanter than to be waited on
by Aladdin's genii — at least so some
8chool-boys feel when they read this tale.

Paul Felton is justly considered the best
of the stories, and one of the most, if not
the most, remarkable production of Dana's
genius. It is a kind of Puritan Hamlet,
in developing a character wrought upon to
insanity, by allowing us to follow his reflec-
tions : we mean, that the peculiar self-tor-
menting habit of the hero is like what is
forced upon sensitive natures by the old
New England system. When we remark-
ed, above, that Dana seemed to have strug-
gled through the mental diseases entailed
upon New England, we had reference to
this tale particular^, though we can trace
the same in aU his other writings. It
would be easy, though hardly proper in
this review, to show how it is that the old
religious austerity tended directly to sepa-
rate men into vain, spiritually proud, self-
deceived, or hypocrites, and, on the other
hand, into self-reproachers, or unbelievers,
according to temperament. The doctrines
of the unpardonable sin, the damnation of
infants, the joy of the righteous in contem-
plating the fate of the impenitent, etc.,
etc., together with the cold family disci-
pline, transmitted from the days of the Sa-
lem bonfires ; they who ever had the expe-
rience of being thrown suddenly from those
icy haunts of superstition into the common
light of day ; who have emerged from a
youth spent under the shadow of Hopkin-
sianism (let the reader who never saw the
word before, imagine anything that inspires
horror to stand in place of it,) to a man-
hood that must be wasted in the thick of
city life — they only can know what New
England education in other days has trans-
mitted to the minds of her children. It
has made some morbidly reflective ; some
it has hardened ; the weaker it has driven
to vague speculation : we do not refer to
the religious effect whoUy, but to the gen-
eral influence of the old system on the
mind.

Paul Felton's disease is more common in
New England than elsewhere. Had he

been a clergyman he would have kept a
diary, which would have resembled those
Dana has a review of in the second volume.
We cannot fancy that one educated in re-
spectable society in England, or here in
New York, can fully comprehend the
character. They may congratulate them-
selves upon their inability, while we may
indulge a gratitude to Dana for having
thought so much for us that we can better
distinguish the light from the darkness, in
the recesses of consciousness.

Suspicion haunts other than guilty minds.
To be thrown among the hard and minute-
ly speculative, excites in one a terrible vig-
ilance. From being questioned and " speer-
ed" at on account of his individuality, he
begins to examine this individuality him-
self, and if he incline to a modest opinion
of himself, the chance is that he wiU argue
himself into a condition as wretched as
poor Paul's. Woe to his peace when once
the current sets that way ! For the rest of
his life he must either dare everything at
every step , or wear himself out in attempt-
ing to discriminate. In spite of the ever-
recurring first view, and in spite of repeat-
ed experience, he must boldly take for his
motto, " every body likes me," and walk
on with an assumed unconcern, doing his
work as well as he is able, with this dread
burden upon his spirits bearing him down
to the gates of death. He must live in a
secondary nature, his original, free nature
having become so weakened by the intole-
rable pressure from without, that he must
forever prop it up and sustain it with the
energy of despair. How grateful must
such spirits be to a poet like Dana, who
sings with no feeble voice, as in the pas-
sage we have quoted, " Up from the
dust!" — aU compacted of resolution, and
in faith invincible !

When we speak of the pain the minutely
speculative inflict upon a frank and sensi-
tive sphit, we have in our mind's eye a life
in Boston. There they go about like the
Athenians of old, inquiring for new things
and new religions. It would be a curious
inquiry, the annual number of novelties in
faith which that city produces. There all
that the rest of the world has gone over
and considered settled is forever agitated.
There all the fij'st principles and causes,
elsewhere taken for granted, are forever
talked over and argued upon. There are

Poems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana. [Jan-

planted the roots of things, and the inhab-
itants are forever taking them up and re-
setting them, and fertilizing them in the
usual modes. There also a man shall hear
the points of his character told hun twenty
times a day, and be inquired of by his
friends concerning theirs. There, every
man, whether in the intercourse of busi-
ness or domestic society, is trying to seem
good ; better, we should say, than his
neio-libor. There every one thinks that in
what every other one observes, " more is
meant than meets the ear." There a
friend shall tell you, " You say this, be-
cause you fancy I said that, because you
said the other," or, " You make this re-
mark in order to discover whether I was
not about to question if you did not imply
more than you said in what you remarked
previously."

Imagine such a home for a sensitive man !

o ...

Happy will such a one be if he fall mto no
sadder "musings" than the following:

"To the man of fine feeling, and deep and
delicate and creative thought, there is nothing
in nature wliich appears only as so much sub-
stance and form, nor any connections in life
which do not reach beyond their immediate
and obvious purposes. Our attachments to
each other are not felt by him merely as habits
of the mind given to it by the custom of life ;
nor does he hold them to be only as the goods
of this world, and the loss of them as merely
turning him forth an outcast from the social
state ; but they are a part of his joyous being,
and to have them torn from him is taking from
his very nature.

" Life, indeed, with him, in all its connec-
tions and concerns, has an ideal and spiritual
character which, while it loses nothing of the de-
iiniteness of reality is ever suggesting thoughts,
taking new relations, and peopling and giving
action to the imagination. All that the eye
falls upon and all that touches the heart run
off into airy distance, and the regions into
which the sight stretches are alive and bright
and beautiful with countless shapings and fair
hues of the gladdened fancy. From kind acts
and gentle words and fond looks there spring
hosts many and glorious as Milton's angels ;
and heavenly deeds are done, and unearthly
voices heard, and forms and faces, graceful
and lovely as Uriel's, are seen in the noonday
sun. What would only have given pleasure
for the time to another, or, at most, be now
and then called up in his memory, in the man
of feeling and imagination lays by its partic-
ular and sbort-lived and irregular nature, and
puts on the garments of spiritual beings, and
takes the everlastino- nature of the soul. The

ordinary acts which spring from the good-will
of social life take up their dwelling within
him and mingle with his sentiment, forming a
little society in his mind, going on in harmony
with its generous enterprises, its friendly la-
bors, and tasteful pursuits. They undergo a
change, becoming a portion of him, making a
part of his secret joy and melancholy, and
wandering at large among his far-off thoughts.
A.11 that his mind falls in with, it sweeps along
in its deep, and swift, and continuous flow,
and bears onward with the multitude that fills
its shoreless and living sea. So univer-
sal is this operation in such a man, and so
instantly does it act upon whatever he is con-
cerned about, that a double process is going
on within him, and he lives, as it were, a two-
fold life. Is he, for instance, talking with you
about a Northwest Passage, he is looking far
off at the ice-islands, with their turreted castles
and fairy towns, or at the penguin, at the
southern pole, pecking the rotting seaweed on
which she has lighted, or he is listening to her
distant and lonely cry within the cold and bar-
ren tracts of ice, — yet all the while he reasons
as ingeniously and wisely as you. His at-
tachments do not grow about a changeless and
tiring object ; but be it filial reverence, Abra-
ham is seen sitting at the door of his tent, and
the earth is one green pasture for flocks and
herds ; or be it love, she who is dear to him is
seen in a thousand imaginary changes of situ-
tion, and new incidents are happening, de-
lighting his mind with all the distinctness and
sincerity of truth. So that while he is in the
midst of men, and doing his part in the affairs
of the world, his spirit has called up a fairy
vision, and he is walking in a lovely dream.
It is round about him in his sorrows for a con-
solation ; and out of the gloom of his afflic-
tion he looks forth upon an horizon touched
with a gentle morning twilight, and growing
brighter to his gaze. Through pain and pov-
erty and the world's neglect, when men look
cold upon him and his friends are gone, he
has where to rest a tired s]iirit that others
know not of, and healings for a wounded
mind which others can never feel.

"And who is of so hard a nature that he
would deny him these 1 If there are assua-
gings for his spirit which are never ministered
to other men, it has tortures and griefs and
a fearful melancholy which need them
more. He brought into the world passions
deep and strong, senses tremulous and thrill-
ing at every touch, feelings delicate and
shy, yet affectionate and warm, and an ar-
dent and romantic mind. He has dwelt upon
the refinements and virtues of our nature, till
they have almost become beauties sensible to
the mortal eye, and to worship them he has
thought could hardly be idolatry.

"And what does he find in the world ? Per-
haps, in all the multitude, he meets a mind or

1850.] Poems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana.

/i)

two which answer to his own ; but through
the crowd, where he looks for the free play of
noble passions, he finds men eager after gain
or vulgar distinctions, hardening the heart
with avarice, or making it proud and reckless
with ambition. . . . There is so little of
nature and sincerity, of ardor and sentiment of
character, such a dulness of perception, such a
want of that enthusiasm for all that is great
and lovely and true, (which, while it makes
us forgetful of ourselves, brings with it our
highest enjoyments,) such an offensive show
and talk of factitious sensibility, — that the
current of his feelings is checked ; he turns
away depressed and disappointed, and becomes
shut up in himself; and he, whose mind is all
emotion, and who loves with a depth of feel-
ing that few have ever sounded, is pointed at,
as he stands aloof from men, as a creature
cold, selfish, and reserved."

But the world is not so utterly hard
with such spirits that they have no where
but within to look for consolation. (Wc
beg pardon of both author and reader for
thus garbling this exquisite essay : )

"And there are beautiful souls, too, in the
world, to hold kindred with a man of a feeling
and refined mind : and there are delicate and
warm and simple affections, that now and then
meet him on his way, and enter silently into
his heart, like blessings. Here and there, on
the road, go with him for a time some who
call to mind the images of his soul, — a voice,
or a look, is a remembrancer of past visions,
and breaks out upon him like openings through
the clouds ; and the distant beings of his im-
agination seem walking by his side, and the
changing and unsubstantial creatures of the
brain put on body and life. In such moments
his fancies are turned to realities, and over the
real the lights of Iris mind shift and play ; his
imagination shines out warm upon it, and it
changes, and takes the airiness of fairy life.
*******

Religion, to such a one, has thoughts and
visions and sensations tinged, as it were, with
a brighter light than falls on other men. The
love and reverence of the Creator make their
abode in his imagination, and he gathers about
them earth and air and ideal worlds. His heart
is made glad with the perfectness in the works
of God, when he considers that even of the
multitude of things that are growing up and
decaying, and of those which have come and
gone, on which the eye of man has never rest-
ed, each was as fair and complete as if made
to live forever for our instruction and delight.

Freedom and order, and beauty and gran-
deur are in accordance in his mind, and give
largeness and height to his thoughts ; he
moves among the bright clouds ; he wanders
away into the measureless depths of the stars,

and is touched by the fire with which God has
lighted them. All that is made partakes of
the eternal, and religion becomes a perpetual
delight."

In this short piece, which is an unique
in our literature, and for refinement of style
and beauty of thought, unapproached by
any prose composition of its length, the
poet has unconsciously drawn a portrait of
himself, as he appears in all his writings,
" the man of fine feeling, and deep, and
delicate, and creative thought." In the
extracts we have given, the flow of thought
is so broken that the reader will not be
able, probably, to lose himself sufficiently
in the style to be enough unconscious of
its rhetoric to appreciate its fullness and
poetic beauty ; nor will he be able to judge
rightly of it from a hurried reading of the
whole essay ; it is a piece to be read and
re-read, and never forgotten.

We have now reached the second vo-
lume of Mr. Dana's book, the contents of
which may be considered quite new to our
public, as they consist mainly of articles
which now for the first time appear col-
lected out of the confined circulation of
simdry extinct magazines. It would be
pleasant to converse about them, and quote
from them here and there to give them
such an introduction to our readers as
would induce them to extend the acquaint-
ance ; and we might do so as well to their
gratification as om- own, we think, but for
the vulgar ' obstacles of time and space.
As it is, we must content ourselves with
little more than an enumeration of their
titles ; some of them are reviews, and the
idea of reviewing reviews puzzles the
reason.

The first, " Old Times," from the
North American Review for 1817, is au
essay in its author's earlier and more care-
ful style, reflective and poetic, like the one
from which we have quoted above. It is
a beautiful, tender expression of the rever-
ent love of the past which all of us, even
in these hurry skurry-times, we hope, feel
in turning our minds back to the days of
youth, and which is with Dana a character-
istic instinct. " The Past and Present,"
from the American Quarterly Observer for
1833, is an essay of a very different caste,
and one which it would be well that no
reader should form an opinion of, for or
against, till he is sure he fully compre-

Poems and Prose Writings of Richard H. Dana. [Jan.

bends it. However mucli one may differ
from the author's views and conclusions,
we are sure no one can rise from a careful
study of this piece without feeling that he
has been in contact with a most daring and
comprehensive spirit — one whose medita-
tions reach, like Coleridge's, and, (we will
venture to say it) Milton's, to the very
verge of thought, the boundary which se-
parates the dry land from the waters. The
same remark will almost apply to the next
essay, " Law as suited to Man," from the
Biblical Repository and Quarterly Obser-
ver for 1835 ; we consider the republica-
tion of it a national benefit.

Leaving aside the particular doctrmes
set forth in these two essays, they both
tend, as may be judged by the following
paragraph, to nourish one trait of character
which is of more consequence than is apt
to be thought to the stability of our in-
stitutions under the flood of increase and
acquisition — to say nothing of its moral
beauty : —

"But even from the winning quiet of old
age the present takes away reverence, while
•b aring, too, in his countenance, as the old
man does, the aspect of the past. Where is
that feeHng for age, which Young so beauti-
fully calls -'tender reverence"'? Almost died
out. Yet what a delightful sensation it is to
the soul ; and how like is it to the kind re-
spect a son bears a mother ! Its blessed in-
fluences will abide in that heart into which it
has once entered, and rest like soft lights on
our" spirits, even, when we, too, are old: —
Y'oung man, if you would have a heart-bless-
ing that shall go with you all your days, rev-
erence age!"

The reviews which follow are of Alls-
ton's Sylphs of the Seasons, a volume of
poems long since out of print ; Edgeworth's
readings on poetry, a light, amusing, cut-
ting up of a book, which now seems hardly
worth the trouble; Hazlitt's British Po-

ets. This has been extended into an elab-
orate compilation of critical notices of the
poets, and is one of the most interesting
pieces in the volume, full of acute sugges-
tion, taste, and fine feeling. Dana has
never borne the reputation of a wit, but
he would have done so had he written only
this and the preceding. There was much
argument once about Pope. The criticism
of him, therefore, is rather more extended
and spirited than that of the others, and
contams many turns of expression which
must have told once ; e. g.

"And the full organ-tones of Milton, and
the mellifluous harmonies of Shakspeare, and
Spenser, and the singers of old, must be hush-
ed, for all the world to stand listening to the
one unvarying note from the pipe of Pope."

Then follows a genial and heartily ap-
preciative review of the Sketch Book ;
another of Mrs. Radcliffe ; Charles Brock-
den Brown ; Pollock's Course of Time ;
and the Natural History of Enthusiasm,
to us the least interesting 5 and one of the
diaries of Payson and Martyn, which
must have done excellent service in their
day, and are by no means strange or out
of place now. Here we must close these
brief remarks, in which we have said little
that we would have said, little that was
worthy the theme, or that satisfies our-
selves.

How time flies ! It seems but yester-
day since we were reading the Buccaneers,
and watching the summer clouds from be-
neath the ashen tree that stood by the old
wide gateway — and now we are reviewing
it ! — and with a load of care and bitter
memories, and self-reproaches so great that
we almost wish it were possible without sin
to yield the conflict, and write here
Finis coronal opus.

Bee. 17, 1849.

G. W. P.

1850.]

Everstone.

EVERSTONE

BY THE AUTHOR OF " ANDERPORT RECORDS."

CHAPTER I.

Anderport has been described as a de-
solate and dreary place. It could not al-
ways remain so. The evU of solitude is
its own corrective. That few people are
in any spot is an irresistible attraction to
the myriads who are anxious that their
great-grand-children shall have plenty of
room. Visitors, in this our day, throng
the sandy streets of hundred-gated Thebes,
pry curiously into the palaces of kings who
reigned when Melchisedek was priest of
Salem, and talk a modern dialect m the
silent cities, but of whose founders Aztec
tradition can furnish no record. Why
should not visitors also explore the ruins
that overhang the Gavin }

Among the many skeletons at our anti-
quated village, is the skeleton of a hotel.
Three-fourths of the buildings are roofless
and uninhabitable ; the remainder, how-
ever, is found sufficiently capacious to ac-
commodate the " aU travelling public." On
a spring morning, ten years ago, three men
walked out upon the porch. Directing
their steps to the lower extremity, they
contemplated the broad marsh which once
had been a harbor, and the bare and gul-
lied hills that sloped down to it from either
side. To eyes fresh, like theirs, from
scenes very different, the spectacle could
hardly be pleasant. Whatever may have
been their thoughts they did not commu-
nicate them ; and though I might easily
supply a thousand sentimental reflections
proper to such a situation, I refrain. The
travellers turned, with a common impulse, to
seek a more encouraging prospect at the
other end of the porch. There a sight,
indeed, greeted them, which broke in with
the merit of variety upon the uniform de-
solation that reigned around. Signs of
life and activity were visible. Human
muscles were at work. Wagons were

there — not fraU and slender vehicles, such
as those which bear to market a Jersey-
man's peaches, or a New Yorker's milk
and potatoes, but wagons with wheels, each
of which would task the strength of two
men to lift, and, with bodies, ribbed like a
ship's hull, iron-bound, huge and ponder-
ous— wagons drawn by full teams of six
powerful horses. There was a cracking of
whips, and a shouting, and the rattle of
stone and bricks falling upon wood.

"This is something like!" said the
shortest of the three, rubbing his hands —
" who says Anderport's never to look up !
I wonder what this is but bustle and busi-
ness .'' I tell you the country is imjDroving
fast!"

" Truly, there is something of a stir —
quite -a contrast to the prevaUiug calm,"
observed another of the party — a tall and
slender man.

The third, who had taken keen note of
the operations which had so much cheered
his companions, said, " Here's a bustle
sure enough, but I can't see that it promises
great thmgs for Anderport. Those people
yonder are very busy tearing down, but I
don't find them doing much at setting up.
It's clear the village is going to lose one of
its best houses ; but where is it to be taken
— that's what I'd like to know."

"Suppose we walk over and inqune,"
replied the short man.

The suggestion was agreed to, and the
trio straightway descending the steps, pro-
ceeded to cross the little hollow separating
the flat where the tavern stood from the
gently-rising height which, in former days,
had been crowned by a spacious edifice,
the seat of an old and wealthy family.
They followed a path which led to the
place they wished to reach ; but after the
usual devious fashion of paths, it pursued

Everstone.

[Jan.

a round-about course ; and when they
found themselves on the top of the hill,
they were not opposite the mansion. A
brick wall, once the enclosure of a garden,
was before them. The path went on along
its side, but they hesitated whether to trust
any further to its guidance. Not a great
way in front of them, a person was per-
ceived leaning against what seemed one of
the columns of that pride of another clhne
— the banyan. Closer approach removed
the wonder. An elm, a maple, a cherry,
and a sycamore, were standing in such inti-
mate fellowship, that, whilst a different
foliage was extended to each quarter of the
compass, their four trunks appeared to
form the supports of a single tree. In the
midst of this brotherhood of giants, and
with an arm resting on one of them, was a
female form.

" That woman yonder can tell us all
about it," said the man of low stature —
"let's go to see her."

They went, and on arriving at the clus-
ter of trees, found that the wall which was
there nearly levelled to the ground no
longer obstructed the vision. The solitary
female, who had not heard their footsteps,
still stood in her place, gazing across the
dilapidated enclosure. She was simply
but tastefully attired, and in her hand was
a small volume, which, though opefi, was
not, it appeared, of sufficient interest to
divert her attention from the scene before
her.

"Ahem — madam!" sonorously uttered
the short man, who now, as hitherto, prov-
ed the readiest speaker of the party.

The individual addressed turned, and
exhibited a countenance youthful and love-
ly, and lighted up by a magnificent eye.

" My respects to you. Miss," continued
the stranger, "I am Mr. Schrowder."

The lady bowed, and as her quick glance
passed over each feature, Mr. Schrowder
felt sure that there was no danger of one
gifted with so piercing a gaze ever after
failing to recognize him. The lady beheld
a forehead such as phrenology delights to
look upon, and the lower part of his face,
tanned by exposure to a purplish red, ex-
pressed a sedateness and reflective gravity
which would not have disgraced an ancient
philosopher.

" This tall gentleman. Miss, is Mr. New-
love, who has been in the mercantle at
York city."

Again the young lady bowed demurely,
and observed that the person to whom she
was now introduced was a thin, elderly
man, with drooping shoulders ; his boots
were finer and better polished than those
of his companions, and he was, on the
whole, much the most genteel in appear-
ance.

" And the other. Miss, is Mr. Dubosk."

"In Mr. Dubosk, she saw a broad-
shouldered, full-faced man, with an expres-
sion not very intellectual, perhaps, but
good-humored and sensible.

"Would it be allowable to ask," added
Mr. Schrowder, "what name your ac-
quaintances. Miss, are in the habit and
practice of calling you by .''"

" Sidney Everlyn."

" Are you belongin' here .?"

" No, sir ; I am almost as much a
stranger in Anderport as any one can be — ■
though I was born in the place. You also
gentleman are, I presume, only visitors in
it.?"

" We've been here once before," re-
plied Schrowder, " but we can't be said to
feel exactly home-like yet. We are all
Yorkers, Miss, come to improve and frunc-
tify this country ; — we are bound to work
out its good and our good too. It's our
calculation to set up stakes here and make
a living."

" You must, of course, be pleased with
the country," said Miss Everlyn, " since
you adopt it for your home .?"

" That don't altogether follow for a cer-
tainty," he rejoined. " You have heard,
its likely, Miss, of those folks who go off
into foreign lands to preach the good word
to tribes and nations living in a miserable
ignorant way, worshipping dumb idols, and
eating one another } Well, them mission-
aries don't go, I guess, from any affection
for such wild, heathen doings. Just so we
come here for purposes of general improve-
ment and edification. I couldn't enjoy life
with any kind of satisfaction if everybody
else was as wise as I was : — there's amazin'
comfort in bein' able to instruct those about
you. It is this alone that enables me to
endure living here. The land itself might
pass if it had the right sort of folks on it — ■
very benighted state of things there is now,
I must say. The country wants industry
and learnin', and fewer of the darkies."

"There is something missing besides,"

1850.]

Everstone.

remarked Ralph Dubosk ; " the ignorance
would do, the laziness would do, even the
niggers would do, if the country had one
thing else."

" Tell us then, by all means, sir," said
Miss Everlyn, " what that is. I am deep-
ly interested to learn what is wanting to
make my native State as prosperous and
happy as she deserves to be."

" Do you see that hUl yonder V asked
Dubosk, " all washed into gullies } — well,
what color is it like .?"

" I should call it red," answered the
lady.

" To be sure it is," said the other, "red
enough. Now, this country has a plenty
of that color. Look at the nest of heads
in the cellar a-front of us."

He pointed to a group of negroes who
were engaged in removing bricks from the
foundation of what had been the main
building of the mansion. They happened
to be all collected at the moment in the
further corner of the cellar, and their curly
heads and glossy necks, unrelieved as they
were beheld at the moment, by the ivory of
theh teeth, or the snowy whiteness of the
upturned eyeball, made a picture suffi-
ciently dingy — and so Miss Everlyn ac-
knowledged.

"Just it! just it!" exclaimed Dubosk,
with a triumphant twinkle. " Old Red-
land county has a plenty of that color, too.
She's painted with red streaks and she's
painted with black streaks ; but to
make her real sweet and pretty, she re-
quires a dash of the green. All that this
country wants. Miss, to make it as good as
York — as good as any country in the
world, is — grass.''"'

Sidney Everlyn returned her thanks for
this solution of an important agricultural
and political problem. Then the tall, quiet
man, Mr. Newlove, took advantage of the
pause in the conversation.

" We are curious. Miss Everlyn, to ob-
serve what is going on at that house yon-
der. Can you inform us whether it would
be considered intrusion if we approached
somewhat nearer .^"

The young lady answered, smiling, " I
am able to reheve you of any scruples on
that account. The place, though now full
of workmen, is quite uninhabitable."

Schrowder, observing that Miss Everlyn
seemed about to resume the perusal of her

book, addressed himself to her, saying with
some hesitation and stuttering, " But,
Miss, we are deshous to learn, as well as
to see. Those darkies are all such simple,
stupid creeturs, that there is no drawin'
any information out of them. I wonder if
there's any white body over there, who it
woiild be more beneficial to interrogate .?"

Sidney Everlyn, in a very accommoda-
ting manner, replied that she herself would
walk with them as far as the house, and
promised to give all the satisfaction she
could to their curiosity.

As they were starting to cross the wall,
another person joined them — a man who
could hardly be classed either as young,
old, or middle-aged ; that is to say, he ap-
peared to be between twenty-eight and
thirty-five. He was of ordinary statm-e,
well and firmly set, with a countenance
agreeable and intelligent, though not hand-
some. In a word, there was nothing about
him so remarkable as to deserve any longer
notice than the momentary glance which
Miss Everlyn thought it necessary to be-
stow on him whom the officious Schrowder
briefly introduced to her as Mr. vSomers.

" We are keeping this lady company a
little way," remarked Mr. Schrowder, to
him ; " Won't you go along, sir .?"

Mr. Somers quietly accepted the invita-
tion, and followed in the rear of the party.

" How far are these bricks taken .'^" in-
quired Schrowder, when they had reached
the scene of operations.

" About fifteen miles," answered Sid-
ney.

" And are these stun moved likewise .?"
he added, pointing to the blocks of marble,
which were inserted at intervals up the
corners, and around the windows, of the
remaining wing of the building.

" Yes sir, those blocks are of the famous
Portland stone, and were brought from
England."

'' Sure now !" said Schrowder, " who'd
have thought it } But aint there stun and
clay nearer by than this to the place where
the house is movin' to V

" There is no lack of either, I believe,"
answered Sidney.

"Well, then, 'twont pay to haul the
stuff so far," said Schrowder, dogmatical-
ly ; " 'twon't pay at all. I am going to
live about that far off from here myself —
but you don't catch me hauling bricks from

Everstone.

[Jan.

Anderport, nor stun neither — hauling stun ?
Oh no — I aint so fond of the business. I
wish I could set eyes on the man that owns
the concern. I could prove to him in five
minutes that he's losing money by the job.
May be it's some kin of yours, Miss V

" It is my father," she replied, " who is
removing the building."

" I thought as much," said Schrowder,
*' but now, Miss, what a pity it is I couldn't
have seen him before he got into this. I
know I could have manifested the folly of
it so conspicuously that he'd have ben
glad to quit. If it had ben some four or
five miles, a body could have perceived a
fraction of reason and common sense in it.
But fifteen mUes, and over such roads as
there are about here ! It's a miserable
bad scald on any man's credit, to have
taken up so poor a speculation. May be
you can let on, though, Miss, what per-
suaded him into it."

" You must know, then," said Sidney,
" that this has been the mansion of the
family ever since the settlement of the
county. About sixteen years ago, my fa-
ther, finding himself in straitened cir-
cumstances, was compelled to dispose of all
the land that remained to him with the ex-
ception of a few acres immediately sur-
rounding this house, which nothing could
have induced him to part from. He went
to the West, and now returns, able, from
the fruits of his exertions to buy a tract of
land in a healthier locality than this, and to
transport the old homestead to it."

" Well, that's curious — is'nt it .?" ob-
served Schrowder to his companions.
" But it would have ben a sight cheaper to
have put up a new house, out and out —
and better, and snugger, too — though, of
course. Miss, he builds it in a new-fash-
ioned way, if he does use the old stuflT .'^"

" No, sir ; he means to have it a precise
copy of that which stood here. Every
•door, every window, every stairway, every
closet even, will be the same. This is not
the first time that these bricks have jour-
neyed. They once composed the walls of
a mansion on the banks of the Severn.
During the wars of the great Rebellion it
was burned — that is, all that was destruct-
ible of it, was burned — by the Roundheads,
and the appendant manor sequestered. At
the restoration, the cold-hearted Charles
would do no more for my ancestors than

for the rest of his deserving followers.
With difiiculty, and by the sacrifice of the
greater portion of his maternal inheritance,
he succeeded in redeeming from the grasp
of the Puritan possessor, the bare and
blackened walls of his home. He placed
the bricks on board ship, and came with
them to Anderport. Now, his descendant,
equally faithful to the trust, is determined
that they shall accompany him and his for-
tune wherever he may go."

" Sure !" exclaimed Schrowder. " If
that isn't the funniest story I've heard this
long time. Your folks. Miss, are worse
than the tarrapins, which take their houses
with 'em on their backs, it's true, but aint
so old-fashioned as not to change them for
fresh ones now and agin."

Sidney colored slightly, as she said, " I '
forgot, gentlemen, that you are of a north-
ern and colder blood, and can not under-
stand the feelings which I am simple enough
to be moved with. I tell you, sirs, — though
you may think me mad in the declaration
— that I would not exchange one of those
twice-burnt bricks for the most spacious of
the palaces which adorn your Hudson. As
I look on those old and venerated walls, my
mind is carried back into historic times —
the faces of my father's fathers seem to
stand out and smile upon me. Yet it is a
tradition in our family, that the Everlyna
can never enjoy prosperity within this
mansion. Be it so ; I cai-e not. It has
been the home of my ancestors — may it
ever be tny home !"

The beautiful girl, for the instant, seem-
ed to lose sight of the uncongenial asso-
ciates by whom she was surrounded. As
she stood on the edge of the foundation
wall, the fine, full eye, which was the glory
of her countenance, ran around the circuit
of the cellar, and over the untouched
wing, and on whatever part it rested
beamed with an expression of proud en-
thusiasm which it is impossible to describe.

Schrowder gave a sly wink to his friend
Dubosk, and instinctively lifted his little
finger to the corner of his right eye. Sid-
ney probably did not observe this meaning
bye-play, yet, on recovering from her mo-
mentary abstraction, exhibited a little con-
fusion at having made herself a spectacle,
and began to apologize.

" Pardon me," she said, " I can not be
in this place without giving way to emo-

1850.]

Everstone.

tions which, I am aware, must appear very
ridiculous to a strauger."

" Ridiculous !" exclaimed Richard Som-
ers, the individual who had last joined the
company. " Think not so ill of us. Miss
Everlyn. For my part, I have no long
Ime of illustrious ancestors to look back
upon. I have inherited no venerable man-
sion ; yet, if I had, the being does not live
who should surpass me either in proud
memory of the one, or in lovingly cherish-
ing the other !"

Sidney was much surprised at meeting
sympathy — and warm sympathy, too — in
such a quarter. In her previous hasty ex-
amination ©f^omers, she had seen no rea-
son to distinguish him from his compan-
ions ; but she now spoke to him with
evident pleasure: — "I am not sure, su-,
that I can boast of any noted ancestors,
unless you give me the privilege, which we
of Wales are so ready to claim, of running
back into days anterior to the Plantage-
nets."

" Does your genealogical tree," said
Somers, " contain the name of John Eve-
lyn, the admirable diarist, the friend of
Bishop Taylor .?"

" No," replied Sidney, " our family,
though its name is similar, is quite dis-
tinct both from the Evelyns of Surrey and
those of Kent. It was formerly two
names, — that is, Ever Lynn — but several
successive generations retaining them both,
they became fused into one."

" And the Mansion — has it retained the
same name throughout its various wander-
ings V

" Certainly, Mr. Somers. It was Ever-
stone in Monmouthshire, it was Everstone
in the outskirts of Anderport, and it will
be Everstone on the Hardwater highlands."

" I sincerely trust," said Somers, " that
its new site may prove a more permanent
resting place than it has hitherto found.
May the dark prophecy, too, which you
say hangs over it, now lose its power.
Surely those who cling to these ancient
relics with such fihal piety, deserve to find
under their shelter security and happiness."

"In that wish," replied Sidney, smi-
ling, " I do not know that I can join you.
Superstition has a pleasure of its own, and
I think the old mansion would be less dear
to me, if it were disenchanted of the fatal
Bpell under which it has so long lain."

VOL. v. NO. I. NEW SERIES.

" Perhaps," said Somers, " the tradi-
tion after all only implies that the owners
of Everstone are not to be exempted from
the common lot of humanity. In what
house, indeed, on earth — be it palace or
cabin — can children of Adam expect to
dwell in uninterrupted peace .'"

Before Miss Everlyn could answer, she
was joined by her father, a robust, fine
looking old gentleman.

" Ah, Sidney, I thought I should find
you here — keeping watch over each dear
bit of Monmouth clay. I hope you charge
the boys not to be unnecessarily rude with
their picks."

" You delight to laugh at me father,"
she replied, " yet I know that your heart
is as full of mad Cambrian enthusiasm as
mine. But let me introduce you to Mr.
Somers."

" If I am not mistaken," observed Som-
ers, " I have before had the pleasure of
somewhere meeting Mr. Everlyn — was it
not in Louisville, sir .'^"

" I certainly do remember you,'' answer-
ed Mr. Everlyn, grasping him cordially by
the hand. " Excuse me for not recogni-
zing you immediately ; but you remained in
the West only a short time, I think."

" A very short while, indeed," rejoined
Somers, " I only went there on business,
and was glad enough, as soon as that was
accomplished, to return to my native state
and country."

" You are not, then, from the Nortli^
sir V said Sidney, with surprise.

" No, no ; I was born in old Redland,
and can lay no claim to Yankee blood,
Yankee thrift, or Yankee taste. I have
received undeserved credit, I see, from the
company you found me in. But where
are those worthy gentlemen "i I did not no-
tice that they had left us."

" Oh, Messrs. Schrowderand company,"
answered the yoimg lady, " have little fond-
ness for antiquities."

" They are right," said her father, " I
believe the Italians use the same word to
denote a brick and an arrant simpleton, —
let us beware, then, Sidney, lest, in taking
over anxious care of all this burnt clay,
we should, perchance, lose our wits. But
come, my daughter, you know that we must
be at the river before the steamboat passes. "

" Are you going to St. John's .'"' inquired
Somers.
6

Everstone.

[Jan.

" Yes," said Mr. Everlyn, " we call
that old town home, until this unwieldy
tabernacle of ours is ready to receive us in
its new location. It is nearly nine o'clock,"
he added, taking out his watch, — " the
boat passes the mouth of the Run about
ten, does it not .?"

" Hardly so early, I think, sir," Somers
answered, " It is well, however, to be in
time. I am highly gratified that you are
bound for St. Johns, for I propose going
there myself this morning, and it will be a
pleasure as great as imexpected to be fa-
vored with your company and Miss Ever-
lyn's, on the little voyage."

The polite assurance was reciprocated by
Mr. Everlyn and his daughter, and Som-
ers left them for a few moments to make
some communication of a business charac-
ter to the party of New Yorkers.

The communication having been made,
and properly responded to by those who
received it, Somers hastened away to join
the Everlyns. Schrowder looking after
him, as his brisk steps carried him towards
Anderport, said, "He is in a mighty hm-ry,
that's a fact." Afterwards, he addressed
his two fellow travellers : — " What's your
opinion, folks — haven't we seen and heard
something new to day .'' I guess we'll come
to understand the ways of this queer peo-
ple perfectly after a while. But of all cu-
rious notions, this takes my eye — to think
of falling in love with a lot of bricks ! and
then to lug them about with a body, as if
they were so many diamonds ! I believe
my heart the people here, down South, are
all cracked. Even Somers, who a fellow
would have thought to have had more
sense, talked almost as light-headed as that
gal."

" Consider, though," remarked Dubosk,
" that as Mr. Somers is a lawyer, he's
bound to court all parties, and talk all
kinds of language. Indeed, it's wonder-
ful how smart practice makes them at it.
Last fall, when I was on here, it fairly
made my ears stick up to hear how smooth
and easy this same Somers could talk of
Northern doings, such as ploughing with
oxen, and building stun-fence, and so
forth. He said it all so natural, too, that
I could hardly persuade myself that he
had been brought up any where else but in
sight of old shaw'ngo."

" Well," returned Schrowder, " I sup-

pose you are nigh right. These lawyers
are willing to say Yes to any thing you
want them to. But, come, folks, shall we
go now and take a look at Mr. Dau's lot .?"

" W^hose V said Newlove.

" Why, Dair's ; don't you remember
the tavern-keeper told us this evening that
a man of that name had a farm of nine
hundred acres or so to sell .?"

" Yes," replied Newlove, " I do recol-
lect it now ; but what is the use of going
there — we have all three made our pur-
chases, have we not.''"

"Certainly," rejoined Schrowder; "I
don't want any more land ; but there is
such a thing, you know, as improving one's
self by observation. Besides, Mose Haw-
kins asked me to be on the watch for some
farm that would suit him. Wont you go
with me Ralph.? It will be only a little
out of our way."

" Not I, Caleb," answered Dubosk, " I
must travel to that precious piece of ground
of mine as quick as possible. It will take
all the balance of my life time, I calculate,
to bring it into decent order, and I must
not lose any time in getting about it, at
that."

" You'll go, then, at any rate," said
Schrowder to Mr. Newlove.

"No sir; I have my daughter in the
village here, and must take her to our new
house as quick as may be."

" If that's the case," said the traveller,
who fi'lt the responsibilities of his mission,
" I must go by myself, for I am determined
to see all that is to be seen."

Away, therefore, Schrowder went, in-
trepid, though alone. He received direc-
tions for his guidance, but experienced the
common difficulty of recognizing the pro-
per occasions to apply them. If he was
told to follow a fence till he came to a plain
road bearing off from it, he, most probably,
went a mile too far in expectation of meet-
ing a highway as broad and well worn as a
turn-pike. At other times, his mind was
so occupied with the rou.tes which he was
charged to avoid, that he failed to remem-
ber the one which he ought to adopt. But
perhaps he was most completely bewildered
lay a direction obtained from a good old
dame whom he found calling up her tur-
kies on the edge of a wood, and who told
him to keep on to a place in the midst of
the wood where six roads met, then to

1850.]

Everstone.

choose the most crooked of them, and after
proceeding upon it half way to Jeems Sul-
livan's to strike off at a sharp elbow to
the left till he got to Mr. Davis' lane,
where he would be likely to find some one
capable of giving him further information.

" But I don't know where this Mr.
Sullivan's is, nor Mr. Da^ds' either."

"Oh, Mr. Sullivan lives in a brick
house, with poplars before the door — though
you won't come in sight of it. Mr. Davis
is a big, portly man and married old Col.
Jackson's second daughter, a hard-favored
critter with a voice which, I reckon, you'll
know if it ever strikes your ears."

In vain Schrowder pushed his inquiries.
The old woman in answer began to recount
the names of half the people in the neigh-
borhood, giving comments upon the cha-
racter or personal appearance of each ; or,
if recalled to the present difficulty, she
would refer to roads which led to mills and
meeting-houses ten miles off. Schrowder,
in despair, tried to banish from his thoughts
all that he had heard, and to stumble on
his journey with no worse disadvantage than
blindfold ignorance. He crossed deep
streams, fourteen-rail fences, and every
other obstacle which could vex a traveller,
till, at length, he began to think that he
had seen quite enough of a country where
each field might pass for a prairie, and each
wood-lot for a forest — where no sign-boards
are found at cross-roads, and where dwellings
stand fm-ther apart than churches, in a
civilized community, ought to stand. Just
in time, however, to save himself from
the dishonor of leaving his exploration un-
finished, he reached the terra incognita of
his aim.

The house — Mr. Schrowder, as the repre-
sentative of Mose Hawkins, looked at it
well — was a long, one-story building, a
third of which was constructed of stone, a
third of frame and weather-boarding, and
the remainder of logs. At the door of
the middle division appeared the master of
the premises, dressed in home-spun. —
There was only a low fur cap on his head,
yet he had to stoop a little in passing under
the lintel. His lank and sallow face
bristled with a beard which was, probably,
of a fortnight's growth ; nor was there
anything else about Ripley Darr that struck
the visitor very agreeably.

The Dairs in former times were one of

the most influential and respected families
in the county, while their broad acres
covered a large proportion of its best land.
They had been distinguished as an open-
handed and mettlesome race . Their roof al-
ways gave a hospitable shelter to the guest :
but never was a Daij seen to fly to that
home as a refuge. Every friend knew
where to look for staunch and liberal aid ;
every foe from whence he was was to expect
speedy and implacable hostility. Time,
however, had brought about a great social
change. A large number of the old
southern families kept pace with the ad-
vancing spirit of the age. The same
chivalrous qualities, which characterized
them two generations ago remain, and
adorned, not weakened by the polish of
letters, give them preeminence now. The
fate of other families has unfortunately
been different. Finding that in these latter
days birth and landed property and here-
ditary daring no longer suffice to give note
and importance, they have not been stimu-
lated to the acquisition of those accom-
plishments which are needed to maintain
them in the relative station to which they
believe themselves entitled. They see that
public respect and the honors of the state
are not measured out according to the
length of a candidate's genealogy — they
see too, that those instinctive traits, cour-
age, and magnanimity, do not now, as they
once did, make good all other deficiencies.
They must submit to enter the lists on
equal terms with other men, to throw
aside their ancient privileges, and to en-
gage in a contest, whose prize is not cut off
from the low-born, nor even from the das-
tardly— they must be reconciled to all this,
or must shut themselves up in the solitude
of the plantation. The last alternative is
chosen. They fall back from the rank of
their former peers. They consent to as-
sociate with vulgarity, because vulgarity
acknowledges their superior dignity. No
more first in the senate-house, they con-
sole themselves with being the fii'st on the
race-course and in the bar-room. The
consequences of the degrading exchange
are obvious ; all their virtues are altered
into the counterpart vices. Hospitality
becomes waste ; liberality, sinful profu-
sion ; frankness, profanity. The decanter
which before stood upon the side-board
principally for the refreshment of the wea-

Everstone.

[Jan.

ried stranger, is di'awn upon as the plan-
ter's own solace. Yet debased and sod-
den as he is, all his former fire is not ex-
tinguished. Even in the midst of the low
herd by whom he is willing to be surround-
ed, there are signs still visible which point
out the man whom nature meant to be an
honor to his kind.

To this class — a small class we are glad
to believe — belonged Ripley Dair. Reck-
less towards man, and profane towards his
maker, a drunkard, and well nigh a sot, he
might seem a fit object for scorn and avoid-
ance. If such a being had been observed
loUing on the bench of a grog-shop in the
heart of a city, none but a philanthropist
would ever have tarried to bestow on him
a glance of sympathy. But it was with a
different feeling that we beheld him in the
country^ standing on his own land, on land
inherited from forefathers who were found
first in every noble achievement. And the
man had claims in himself to a degree of
respect. The steel had not quite lost its
fine temper, though condemned to the
vilest uses. The spirit was buried beneath a
gross and earthy load, but it was there still,
and like Enceladus under ^tua, occasion-
ally heaved the whole superincumbent
mass. Ripley knew that he was sadly
fallen, but retained the consciousness that
tlie mire in which he grovelled was not his
proper element. It must be added that the
abasement which has been described was
a moral abasement. As far as mere ex-
ternal appearances are regarded, Ripley
Dair might be thought to endure compari-
son with many of his ancestors. Not less
■well-informed than they, he had a respec-
table share of what are called the more sub-
etantial possessions. Certainly, the master
of a hundred slaves could not be charged
with the damning crime of poverty.

One of his most marked characteristics
was an intense dislike of the northerners
who were coming to settle in the county.
He seemed to feel towards them an in-
etinctive antipathy. His sentiment was
not hatred, but disgust. He was anxious
to get out of their way, but to do this he
must sell his land, and sell it to some north-
ern man. Thus he was compelled for the
tune to subject his passion to a degree of
constraint. How he chafed against this
necessity may be imagined. Not only had
lie to tolerate the presence of those whom

his very eyes could hardly bear to look
upon, but it was required of him to invite
them into his house, to throw open his fields
to their inspection, and, worse than all else
to endure patiently every comment which
the courted visitors thoaght proper to make.

He greeted Caleb Schrowder — whom he
recognized at the first glance for a north-
erner— with sullen politenoss, and walked
with him over part of his estate. In the
corner of one of the fields they found a
plough lying where it had been used the
fall previous. Schrowder pointing to it
with his finger, remarked : "That's very
careless doings, Mr. Dair — you'll never
get along wherever you go unless you take
csre of your tools. Yet, to be sure," he
added, lifting it up by the handles, " the
concern is worth mighty little to work with.
Bless me, how the people in York would
open their eyes to see a team hitched to
such a thing. I declare it is a funny sight
— I don't believe even the Egyptians and
Chinese and other savage islanders have
any scratchin' tools to beat it."

"Sir!" said Dair, "such a plough as
that was used by my father — one like it
was used by Washington .'"

"That may all be," replied Schrowder
composedly, " it only proves that if Gen-
eneral Washington was a smart man at some
kinds of business, he had much to learn
about farmin.' "

Dair suppressed the angry retort which
he was on the point of uttering, and strode
along moodily. They came next into a
body of timber, and passed by a negro
who was employed in mauling rails. "Ah,"
exclaimed Schrowder to the fellow, " let me
show you the right way to set that wedge."

Dair interposed immediately, took the
wedge from his hand, and returned it to
the negro, saying, " when you have bought
the timber you may have it mauled in any
way that pleases you. He is making my
rails now, and shall do it according to my
directions."

Schrowder was silent till they had walk-
ed some hundred yards further. Then
laying his hand familiarly on the arm of
his companion, he said, " Now don't be so
touchy friend."

Dair with a sensation like that experi-
enced when a spider or lizard is felt creep-
ing over one's naked skin, drew off" sud-
denly to the opposite side of the path.

1850.]

Eversto7ie.

" Don't be so very touchy, I say, Mr.
Dair ; no harm in the world is meant you.
We Yorkers who come here, are not proud
and stingy, we are willing to communicate
our knowledge. It is not likely that you
southern folks can take all our wiseness —
strong meat you know, is not for babes —
but we are anxious that you should have as
big a share as your feebleness permits.
Far from seekin' all your land, we only
want to get a part of it so as to show by
the discipline and educational principle of
example, how you ought to manage what
is left."

'' Take all — take all — take every bit !"
cried Dair impetuously. " I wouldn't have
a Yankee along side of me to live in Pa-
radise !"

" I'm no Yankee," exclaimed Schrow-
der. " The Yankee country is in Con-
necticut, and off that way."

"It is all one," returned Dair, "you
are bees out of the same hive."

Scrowder answered reflectively, " in a
certain sense we are, that's true ; we are
hees^ sure enough, and go out in swarms.
Most of us have had a habit of crossing the
mountains to Ohio and Illinois, and so
forth, but latterly we have discovered tol-
erable nice locations by choosing this
course. Yes we are bees, and we'll make
this land flow with the nicest of honey."

"Bees.'' — honey.'"' repeated the other
disdainfully.
" Yes, yousaidyourself that we are bees."

" Did I say so — then may heaven for-
give me for telling such a lie ! You are
locusts ; and bring destruction with you —
army worms, to eat us out of house and
home !"

The circuit of the farm completed, they
returned to the dwelling, and in doing so
passed through the garden. In the centre
of it was a grassy square, studded with
upright stones, some of which bore in-
scriptions. Schrowder stopped abruptly,
and after gazing upon it for a while from
the edge, turned to his host, saying,
" there's one custom of yours that surprises
me more than any other. I saw a whole
lot of first rate manure lying waste near
your stable, and yonder on that half-acre
wood-pile, there are rotted chips enough to
do a quantity of good, if they were only
hauled out."

" Suppose I do not think my land wants

such assistance," said Dair, " what is that
to you .?"

" The thing I look at," continued
Schrowder iraperturbably, " is this. At
the very time you make such sinful waste
of straw, and litter, and such sort of stufi",
you are wonderfully careful to make ma-
nure of the bodies of your dead I'elations."
" What's that you say stranger .'' I don't
hear you rightly."

" I refer," said the other, " to this prac-
tice of sticking your graves in the midst
of orchards and cabbage-patches. Folks
to the north sometimes raise flowers in the
burying grounds, but we are not so hard
pushed I'm thankful, as to have to look to
them for our eating stuff.''''

" Hark ye sir," exclaimed Ripley Dair,
in a tone which gave a jar even to Schrow-
der's stm-dy nerves, " I can put up with
much insolence, but there are some things
which I cannot bear. What's past is past,
and I will not harbor grudge for it ; you
have drank at my table, and been speaking
on my land, but remember that if you say
anywhere else what you said here just now,
your relations may have occasion to pick
out a burial place for your own corpse be-
fore long !"

Schrowder looked up into his face with
unfeigned astonishment.

" You are not getting mad about such a
thing as that surely. I didn't intend any
personal reflections. Every tribe of peo-
ple has its customs, and I only wanted to
say that yours has some very queer ones.
Just consider the matter yourself. Indi-
viduals with you can't live forever, nor can
they with us ; why then should there be

any difference in the "

Dair interrupted him, " Say no more.
I am sick of your very voice. You have
seen the plantation, and you know my
price — teU me do you wish to buy it or
not .?"

" I didn't look at it with any thought

of buying," said the New Yorker frankly.

" The mischief you did not ! And I

have been tramping about with you this

half-a-day."

" Why you see Mr. Dair, Mose Haw-
kins "

" Oh I understand all about it. Mose
Hawkins is a knave, and you are a fool.
Good day to you sir ! I will not ask you
to stay, for I know that if you are so pro-

' Everstone.

[Jan.

yoking sober, you would be outrageous,
drunk ; tbe liquor might get into my head
too — and then I'd hurt you, which I don't
want to do in my own house."

" You ought to break yourself of this
selfish disposition, rejoined Schrowder,
" I've got a lot of ground not far off from
here, and as we are going to be neighbors,
we ought to be friendly and sociable."

" Sociable /" repeated Ripley Dair with

an oath, and turning upon his heel walked
away to digest his anger."

" Well, he's a hard case !" muttered the
visitor, who departed without another ef-
fort to establish the acquaintance. In
the course of that day he had witnessed
two scenes, either of which was surprising
enough to furnish him with many an hour's
meditation.

CHAPTER II.

It was a day in mid-summer, when Sid-
ney Everlyn's father brought her to Ever-
stone, which was now ready to receive
them in its new position. The building
was not indeed quite completed. But it
afforded more than enough room for that
small family. Such care had been taken
in the reconstruction, that it had lost no-
tbing of the antique air which made it ap-
pear so venerable at Anderport. The
marble blocks jutted out from the walls as
before, and presented to the elements the
same surfaces that had become dingy under
the storms of seven hundred British and
American winters. Everlyn, with admir-
able taste, had preserved just enough of
the native forest trees to supply abundant
shade without gloom. As you walked
around the mansion, a new vista opened at
each point. No unsightly stumps appear-
ed, to wound the eye, and though the vel-
vet lawn — an impossible achievement for a
single spring — was as yet wanting, the
spacious grounds exhibited so many charm-
ing features that the deficiency passed un-
noticed.

The most fastidious might have been
contented with such a home, yet it was to
Sidney what it could not be to any one
else. The hope of returning to that fam-
ily seat had been her father's ruling pas-
sion. ' Remote from his friends, and a
widower, he had no companion but her to
whom he could confide the long cherished
purpose, and the circumstances which,
from time to time, arose to impede or ad-
vance its accomplishment. As he each
night sought his lodgings, wearied by the
day's labor at an uncongenial employment,
he had those bright eyes to greet him, and
her sympathizing ears were ever eager to
learn how much nearer Everstone was then

than in the morning. The father might
find his newspaper dry and unentertaining ;
the daughter miMit know moments when
even her music, to which she was passion-
ately devoted, failed to furnish its wonted
solace ; yet there was a theme upon which
father and daughter could always converse
with animation and delight.

Sidney had not grown up a recluse.
She had mingled in society and been its
ornament. With all her enthusiasm, she
could fill her place among the most gay
and mirthful. Mr. Everlyn, however,
was inclined to form no associations which
might disturb the memories that bound
him to his native soil. He felt like one
away from home temporarily, and could
think but of two things : — first, the business
which occupied him ; and, secondly, the
rest that he should enjoy on returning.
Sidney could be happy among her youth-
ful companions, but she was most happy
with her father. His thoughts were her
thoughts, and his hopes her hopes. The
pair had left Anderport, a man in the
prime of his vigor and a prattling child ;
when they came back, the man was in the
autumn of life, the child had reached the
stature and bloom of womanhood. The
years which had passed had been able to
rob the older of little of his enthusiastic
zeal, while they had bestowed a double
portion on the younger.

It is hard to say which felt the deepest
joy in that first night's repose under the
shelter of the renovated, yet unaltered
Evei'stone. But, no ; it is not after all a
matter so difiicult to decide What though
Everlyn grasped in that instant the reward
of sixteen years' toil.^ what though he saw
himself the independent master of that
homestead which he had left in poverty ?

1850.]

Everstone.

no man is capable of the emotion wliich
Sidney's heart knew. On his side was re-
ality; on hers, reality, and imagination,
and passion. She was to sleep where all
the Everlyns before had slept for genera-
tion after generation. The floor on which
she stood once covered ground where her
ancestors had battled, now with Saxon,
and now with Norman, in defence of Brit-
ish freedom. In times long after, that
window out of which she now looked in the
clear moonlight over the tree-tops of a
trans-atlantic forest, had been a vent for
the flames kindled to punish an Everlyu's
loyal service of his king. And in still
later days how many scenes — of intense
interest to her, though unchronicled in his-
tory— had been transacted within those
walls ?

The night passed, — and another, — and
another. The first thrill was over. She
no longer lay awake from mid-night to
dawn, thinking of maU-clad knights and
dashing cavaliers ; every dream was not
now crowded with pictures of the olden
time ; she felt at Jiome in the mansion.
Yet her attachment to the ancient struc-
ture was not diminished, because it had
rational as well as romantic grounds to rest
upon. Her daily walks made her realize
that the building was not surrounded with
the scenery that fancy represented — it did
not overlook the broad Severn, nor did the
blue crags of Wales frown in the back-
ground— but it became only the more en-
deared to her, when she recognized it in
the midst of a landscape so beautiful and
wUd as that which the eye surveys from
the heights of the Hardwater. There was
scarcely an hour when she did hasten —
every feature glowing with a joy whose
like is never seen upon a countenance less
radiant and expressive — to inform her fa-
ther of some new discovery, an object re-
markable for its beauty, its picturesque
position, or some other equally charming
quality.

A different effect was produced on Ev-
erlyn. Instead of sharing her exhilara-
tion, he became thoughtful and depressed.
Was it wonderful ? Age had laid its hand
upon him. His waning strength, the deep-
ening furrows on his brow, and those num-
berless other silent monitors of decay, told
that this loved spot must soon be to him no
more than it was to the myriads who had

gone to the last, common home. There
had always been a tinge of melancholy in
his temperament. Hitherto a strong mo-
tive existed to arouse him to exertions,
which left little time for despondent mus-
ings. That stimulus was now removed;
the long-desired object was gained ; the
journey's end was reached. It was not
unnatural that his nerves should relax
when there was no labor to make them
rigid — that his resolute cheerfulness should
depart with that which had been its sup-
port.

Not quite two weeks after their arrival,
Sidney, returning from a morning's excur-
sion, exclaimed, " Father ' father ! what
do you think I have found ? It is strange
that I never noticed it before ! — so near
the house, too ! — I must have been by it a
hundred times. But, perhaps, you knew
of it all a-long — is it so.'"

'• You must tell me what it is, before I
can answer," replied Everlyn, smiling. I
am acquainted with a good many things
about here, that pretty spring for instance ;
and, since you have told me of it, the
broad moss-covered rock, which,
way, the mason is now anxious to
priate as a hearth-stone for one
quarters"

" But you will not let him have it, I am
sure," interposed the daughter eagerly.

" No, I told him that he must go to you,
since the discovery gave the right to dis
pose."

" Ah," replied Sidney, " good Mr.
Murphy knows well enough what answer
he would get from me, and he has made
no application. But, I came to speak of
something very different — that great chest-
nut, with a hollow as capacious as the lit-
tle octagon chamber above the door-way.
The tree stands at the further end of the
beautiful natural terrace which you took
me to visit the very day we came here."

" I have seen the tree," said Everljm.

" Have you indeed, father ? well, I sus-
pected that you might. No doubt there
are many other fine objects known to you,
which I have not yet observed. But I do
not ask you to show them to me. You
know that I shall have plenty of time to
make researches during the many happy
years that are to come."

Everlyn here di-ew a deep breath which
sounded very like a sigh.

by the
appro-
of the

Everstone.

[Jan.

Sidney, without noticing the involun-
tary expression of pain, continued, " It is
a noble tree, and, I am certain, must be an
exact copy of that — it was chestnut too,
you know, father! — within whose trunk
Maurice Everlyn hid himself the night the
Roundheads came and burned his dwelling.
Dont you remember how the account says
that he extended his head from the open-
ing in the tree, and watched the flames
from story to story ? How he must
have felt in gazing upon such a spec-
tacle ! Doubtless he was nearly as heart-
broken as I should be if anything were to
happen now to Everstone."

The animated girl added, immediately
afterwards, " But if such an event should
come, would it not be a comfort, father, to
have this great chestnut to fly to .'' I de-
clare there must be a degree of pleasure in
going through such exciting scenes ! A
sad pleasure, indeed, and I hope we shall
never experience it. Yet we can feel a
satisfaction in reflecting that even in these
peaceful and unromantic days we have some-
thing to remind us of the adventures and
perils which previous generations have had
to encounter. Will it not be delightful for
us to pay frequent visits to the noble chest-
nut, and to remember, beneath its shade,
bow Everstone was once lost.''"

" I could find no enjoyment in such a
meditation," said Everlyn.

Sidney, with surprise, rejoined, " Why
not, father } Though the mansion was
lost and nearly destroyed, we know that it
was afterwards recovered. Does it not
stand this hour as sound and as firm as
when Cromwell was unborn .?"

" Yes, Sidney ; but I am too old to go
through the task a second time."

" And what occasion that you should,
father .'' The legend, indeed, runs that the
house is to suifer a perpetual recurrence of
disaster, yet it has hitherto been indulged
with pretty long intervals between the cri-
tical periods. Did not five hundred years
elapse between its founder and the cavalier,
Maurice .'' Then, I'm sure it had a good
rest after it arrived at Anderport. Sixteen
years of adversity passed, and it is here.
It must remain secure during our time —
so let coming ages look out for themselves."
" But, according to your own showing,
Sidney, the spaces of quiet have been
growing shorter — first, five hundred years ;
then, less than two hundred "

" So let it be," answered the daughter.
" Suppose this is a law of its existence, and
that the days of rest must continually be
shortened like the lives of the Patriarchs: the
old building has a right, at this rate, to look
forward now to nearly a century. Or if it
has sunk even to the Iron Age, it may
claim its repose of three-score years and
ten."

" Sidney, there is too much reason to
fear that the hour of trouble wUl come
sooner than that."

At a loss for his meaning, but struck by
his tone, even more than by the words,
Sidney raised her eyes anxiously to his face.
Everlyn continued in the same manner,
" Within the space of six months — nay,
perhaps, of less time — we may have to
yield up this place to the possession of
strangers."

Sidney's lip uttered not a request for an
explanation : she had no need ; for that
continued fixed gaze appealed to him with
an earnestness which it was impossible to
resist.

" I have purchased this estate, you are
aware, Sidney, and paid for it. But it
seems that the title is to be contested by
an adverse claimant."

" But will not this prove a mere threat,"
said Sidney — " Is there any danger .'"'
" I fear there is."

" Did Mr. Astiville know of the defect
in the title — and if so, why did he not tell
you .'"'

" He did know of it, and he did tell me,"
responded Everlyn.

" And still you completed the pur-
chase .?" said Sidney. " Could you ex-
pose so much to hazard .? — all your hard
earnings, the land, the house .?"

" It was gross and culpable imprudence,
Sidney. I recognize the error now — but
it is too late for remedy. To live at An-
derport, with the prospect of an annual
fever, was out of the question. I saw this
spot — noticed its capabilities, and believed
that nowhere could a more fitting site be
found for our new Everstone. The undu-
lating surface — bold but not precipitous,
the wide prospect, the innumerable foun-
tains of clear, perennial water, the salu-
brious air "

" Oh, it is delightful here " inter-
rupted Sidney. " In such a home one
could feel it happiness to exist, and even
find it less a pang to die."

1850.]

Everstone.

" And these trees ^ Sidney — they fasci-
nated me more, I think, than anything else.
Look at them ! Not a park in England
can furnish their compeers. And what a
variety ! How finely the different foliages
blend ! IVIark the contrast in contour —
see each tree throw out his branches after
his own fashion. They are all grand and
majestic — all eqiially imposing : yet the
sweet gum in the vale yonder is not a copy
of its neighbor, the sycamore. On the
hill the chestnut and the chestnut-oak
stand side by side : — emulous rivals they
are, not dissimilar in foliage, equally val-
uable as timber ; but see the different in-
stinct which guides the flowing sap of each.
The oak towers to the sky, the chestnut
swells his trunk and spreads out his hori-
zontal arms over a vast circumference.
There are scores of other examples, not less
striking, scattered around. And these are
no puny shrubs, brought to pine out a sick-
ly existence in unnatural fellowship. They
are from Nature's nursery, and show, by
the test of centuries, that both soil and cli-
mate are congenial to then* hardy frames.
But this talk is folly. Another winter and
every tree we behold may be hacked down
and dismembered. I had almost as soon
see them shed my own blood with their vil-
lanous axes ; but the law squares not its
decisions by the rule of taste, nor — often-
times— of justice."

Everlyn walked away abruptly. His
heart was swelling with emotion, which he
dared not tarry to utter, lest he should be
tempted into an exhibition of weakness of
which he must have been ashamed. Lo-
cal attachment is far from being an Ameri-
can characteristic ; and we cannot easily
appreciate the strong grasp which it has
upon some natures. Considered in the
light of sober reason, it doubtless is very
absurd that the human soul should bind
itself to anything more earthly than its own
corporeal casing. Indeed, but for those
curious fibres which are extended over the
body, and have the faculty of communica-
ting sensation from the remotest organ to
the seat of life, it would require no philo-
sophical fortitude to enable us to slice away
one limb after another with as much apathy
as the "improved" agriculturist displays
when he clears up a grove, or converts the
wandering rivulet into the straight-forward
ditch. Education effects wonders 5 and,

perhaps, if Evelyn had received a proper
training, he would have been as callous and
insensible as the rest of us ; yet, since he
was not as fortunate, would it be wrong to
spare him a little sympathy } We may
smile in considering the cause of his dis-
tress ; but surely it is humanity to com-
passionate the suffering itself.

He had foreseen that he might have to
undergo a lawsuit to maintain his purchase.
The knowledge, however, gave him little
uneasiness so long as his mind was occu-
pied with two prior and stronger ideas — the
speedy rebuilding of his patrimonial man-
sion, and the apparently untarnished honor
of the man from whom he bought. As the
edifice approached completion, one of these
pre-occupant thoughts lost ground. Con-
fidence in his friend still remained, but
had not a sufficiently controlling influence
to shut out apprehension. Faith and
Fear, like Castor and Pollux, held alter-
nate possession. Between the two, the man
was wretched.

Poor Sidney was even worse off" than he.
She was made suddenly aware of the over-
hano-ino; sword without being placed in a
situation to examine the texture and
strength of the upholding cord. Fortu-
nately, however, her mind had not to brood
over this single theme. Since the day
when she first appeared to us near Ander-
port, an important epoch had occurred in
her history. She was still, indeed, (to
quote Mr. Schrowder's phrase,) " in love
with bricks ;" but she had learned — as it is
to be hoped all the rest of the gentle sex
will some day learn — that there is another
class of objects capable of inspiring a like
deep affection. The individual upon
whom her fancy had fastened, was not pre-
cisely the one who might have been sup-
posed qualified to captivate the heart of the
Louisville belle. Perhaps Somers owed
his success, in some measure, to the acci-
dent of their meeting on the brink of the
disfurnished cellar. His unassuming ap-
pearance had caused her at first to under-
value hull : afterwards, a generous sense of
justice may have betrayed her into making
more than ample amends. But, however
we choose to strike the balance between
Somers' merit and his good fortune, it
must be confessed that he was guilty of no
remissness in following up the favorable first
impression. Much was accomplished in the

Everstone.

[Jan.

steamboat passage down the river, and far
more dm-ing a six weeks' stay at St Johns.

Sidney, remembering what ready sympa-
thy he had manifested in her enthusiastic
family pride, did not doubt that a still
warmer interest would be excited by the
present emergency. She had a hope too
that his clear judgment would discern some
defect in the premises from which her fa-
ther's apprehensive temperament had drawn
such an alarming inference. At any rate
a lover, though he be able to do no good,
is a real support and solace.

Somers, as soon as his engagements per-
mitted, came. Mr. Everlyn greeted him
courteously and kindly, and he had pene-
tration enough to see that Sidney was not
displeased. The host insisted upon his
remaining over night, as he wished to point
out to him some of the various advantages
of the purchase. Somers with little show
of reluctance consented. Before the sun
had quite driven off the dew they rode
over a portion of the yet almost untouched
three thousand acres, Sidney designating
the spots where lier arbors and rustic seats
were to be placed, while Mr. Everlyn
marked the sites of future fences, barns,
and cattle-yards. As they returned to the
dwelling, the visitor made the most full
acknowledgments of the capabilities of the
tract, whether regarded in the light of
taste or utility.

Mr. Everlyn went to give his workmen
some directions for their morning's em-
ployment. During his absence Sidney re-
marked, "the prophecy holds its own, Mr.
Somers."

" Ah, I recollect; Everstone it seems
is destined to be a house of unrest. Are
you then so soon weary of this beautiful
place } What ! do you pine for city
gaieties in midsummer .'"

She answered seriously, " I assure you
the gloom is not voluntary. The sadness
does not arise within, but comes from
abroad. T could bow to the infliction if I
could take it as the punishment of any un-
worthy fickleness of mine, but would that
I were as clear of all sins as of that of dis-
satisfaction with my home."

Somers perceiving that the subject had
not been started merely for the purpose of
preventing an hiatus in the conversation,
expressed his deep concern, and inquired
into the particular grounds of her alarm.

" I am not by any means alarmed," she
said in a tone which her utmost effort could
not make very cheerful. '' The only
matter is that some three or four northern
settlers confidently lay claim to the whole
of this land which my father thought he
had secured. As law will doubtless league
with fate against an Everlyn, I suppose we
must tear down these walls — luckUy the
mortar is yet hardly dry — and bear them
to a spot, if such can be can found, where
Yankee footsteps never come."

" Tell me the names of these claimants."

" Messrs. Newlove, Dubosk, and Schrow-
der — do you not remember them .?"

Somers was much discomposed. " Is
this certain," he said, " can you not be mis-
taken .^"

" What I have told you," said Sidney,"
is only too real. But do you know any-
thing of the business V

"Ifear Ido."

" Are we then to lose this dear home,"
rejoined the fair girl with the expression
and tone of one pleading for the life of a
parent, " oh do not say that I have reason
for these distracting fears ! What inter-
est can others have in this place compared
with ours .'' Think how much my father
has done to change it from a wilderness to
what it is now ! Remember that he has
placed everything here — his life's whole
earnings, his patrimony, his heart. What
has he done to deserve such an overwhelm-
ing calamity } Say, would it not be an
outraa;eous wrono; ?"

" I am sorry, sorry, very sorry," said
Somers.

" If you have any power," continued
Sidney, " Oh do prevent this ! I am sure
that our right must be the best. Before we
came, this spot was nearly worthless ; and
even now, these northern people, with all
that industry and enterprise which is spo-
ken of so often, can make any other piece of
land worth as much to them as this — worth
more, for all these things which we value —
would seem to them but incumbrances and
eye-sores. We are suited to Everstone, and
Everstone is suited to us, why should stran-
gers interfere to make a ruin of both } Can
you help us Mr. Somers, can you help us V

The lover knit his brows and looked
troubled.

"At least you will try to assist us, will
you not.?"

1850.]

Everstone.

" It is a desperately bad business," said
Somers vacantly.

"Is it quite hopeless ? Are you not
able to devise so??ie way of escape."

"Escape.'" echoed Somers, who was
following his own train of thought at the
same time that he was apparently listen-
ing with the most profound and undivided
attention, "escape.' yes, I must escape!
I can't go through with it, and will not.
It is impossible — quite out of the ques-
tion." Then recollecting himself sudden-
ly, he added: "how did it happen that
Mr. Everlpi suffered himself to be so
cheated by AstivUle .'"

" He does not believe that Mr. Astiville
made any attempt to deceive him," replied
Sidney gravely, " He esteems Mr. AstiviUe
as a gentleman, and as his personal friend."

" Does he indeed ? Well, I fear your
father will find occasion ere long to alter
his opinion of that person's character."

Sidney was silent for a few moments,
and then said, " you have not told me yet
what you think of our situation. Must
we despair .'"

" No ; it is a duty to hope to the very
last."

" But is there anything for hope to feed
upon .'"

" Assuredly," said Somers, assuming a
more lively air, " for there is a sad dearth
indeed when we cannot find nourishment
enough for such an etherial lodger. Ac-
cording to the poets, by the way, hope
is not a consumer at all, but is itself an
object of food, a sort of capricious manna,
abundant at times, and at times greatly in
demand. I am certain I have a right to
speak from experience. I know, if any
one does, what it is.

To speed to day, to be put back to-morrow,
To feed on hope, to pine on fear and sorrow.'

I trust the day may come when the gentle
princess in whose service I am, will see how
cruel it is to withhold a bounty of such
easy bestowment as a single word."

" This is not the kind of answer I
seek," returned Sidney. " Why will you
not tell me at once whether the house
which covers us this moment belongs to
him who inherited it, or to those immi-
grants of yesterday .'"

" It is an important question," said So-
mers, " one's mind ought to be in its most

calm state to consider it fitly. And what
is there so tranquillizing as music .' Favor
me with that tune which was promised last
evening."

" You forget," answered Sidney, " that
it was reserved for to-night. It is an
evening strain, and would sound inharmo-
nious without the accompaniment of twi-
light."

" Yet give it me now, notwithstanding.
A harsh necessity will prevent me from
waiting at present even till noon.''''

The piano was opened, and Sidney, who
did not sanction the proposed speedy de-
parture, exerted all her powers. The
notes stirred by her delicate and impas-
sioned touch, kept the listener spell-boxmd.
So long as she played he coidd not move.
She ceased for an instant. Somers, re-
covering the faculty of volition, rose ; then,
without speaking more explicitly upon the
subject that had caused at least as much
uneasiness to him as to the informant, said
farewell in an affectionate and earnest tone,
and after a few minutes was riding south-
wardly across the country.

Richard Somers uttered the plain truth
when he declared himself to be descended
from no illustrious lineage, and he had
earned a right to make the avowal without
shame. Born in extreme poverty, his own
resolute exertions had raised him to a po-
sition of usefulness and high respectability.
He was a lawyer, and if his profession had
not yet brought him wealth, there were
few of its members in Redland, or the ad-
joining counties, who ranked above him for
learning and ability. When the three
New Yorkers, after their joint purchase
of about four thousand acres of land, were
informed that their title was to be contes-
ted, they thought they could not do better
than confide then- case to him. This was
more than a year previous, but untU IMiss
Everlyn's declaration he had never been
made aware that her father was interested
in the matter. The lands about which
question was raised were mostly wild and
uninclosed ; his opinions had been formed
merely from the examination of deeds and
surveys ; and though he might have heard
that Mr. Everlyn had bought of John As-
tiville, he had no reason to suppose that,
out of twenty thousand acres, that part had
been hit upon which alone was liable to
controversy. He determined to see his

Everstone.

[Jan.

now unwelcome clients, and, if he could
effect it honorably, to release himself from
his engagement to them.

The house first reached was that of Ca-
leb Schrowder.

"Why did not you tell me, sir," said
the lawyer to him, " that Mr. Everlyn
would be one of the parties to your ex-
pected suit ?"

" I really wasn't be-knowing of it," an-
swered the farmer, "till the day after I
see you last at Anderport. Then I found
out that the old John Astiville had been
cute enough to sell three thousand acres
that didn't belong to him. You have
come from Mr. Everlyn's just now,
havn't you .'"'

" Yes, I staid there last evening."

" That's right," said Schrowder approv-
ingly, " I thought you'd be one to under-
stand how to manage business. It's doing
like we read of in the Good Book, where
it says two of the children of Israel went
to spy out the nakedness of the land, so
that afterwards they might come with the
blowing of the trumpets to take the strong
cities. I suppose you drew out of Ever-
lyn what particular rudiments he's going
to rest on. Perhaps you got sight of some
papers, or the like.?"

" No," said Somers, not a little disgust-
ed, " I went there for no such purpose, so
far from it, I came this morning to request
you if possible to secure another advocate
in my place."

" You are in a big hurry to give up,"
said Schrowder, with an expression of
some alarm, " do you think our chance so
very bad .?"

"Not at all," answered the lawyer.
" My wish to withdraw arises from other
considerations altogether."

"Well, then," said Schrowder, "I
don't see as I had ought to take your
leaving on us very much to heart — law-
yers don't seem no ways scarce in this
country. I rather guess there's plenty
would jump to get such good customers
as us. But you'll have to see Mr. New-
love about this, he ought to be chief cook,
or at least his gal ought."

So, to Mr. Sylvester Newlovc, Somers
next proceeded. He found him comforta-
bly lodged in a neat and well-furnished
frame building. It was then that he first
saw the retu-ed merchant's only daughter.

No body probably ever called Emma
Newlove beautiful. Yet her features
were not irregular, and her whole counte-
nance as she looked at you wore such a
glow of earnest, sympathizing interest, that
it was impossible not to feel flattered and
attracted. She charmed differently from
most of her sex. She was one of the few
who are first loved and afterwards ad-
mired.

Somers in brief terms informed Mr.
Newlove that he had just discovered very
unexpectedly that the suit which was about
to be prosecuted would require him to ap-
pear in opposition to a friend whose cause
he could not with any gratification see de-
feated. " I became acquainted with Mr.
Everlyn," he added, "a number of years
ago, and I have since partaken of the hos-
pitalities of his household ; consider, then,
how I must now feel. Whatever cause I
engage upon, I would not desire to be a
lidiewarm advocate ; yet, under these cir-
cumstances, you must perceive that it is
scarcely possible that I could be as zealous
in your defence as I ought."

" I am sure," said Mr. Newlove, " I do
not know what to say. Emma, speak for
me."

His daughter, thus called upon, said in
her soft, kindly tone : — "If I understand
you, Mr. Somers, you see no reason to
doubt the rightfulness of our cause."

" None," he answered. " There never
was a suit which I could support with a
clearer conscience. Were it to be urged
against John Astiville only, I should not
feel the slightest reluctance, but Mr. Ever-
lyn, as well as yourselves, purchased his
lands in good faith, and did not dream that
he was infringing upon the rights of others.
Thus, in an equitable sense, Ids cause is
just, and yours is just."

" Yet," said Emma, " I am sure you
will admit that one must be better than the
other, and that there is a rule which ought
to decide between them — which of the two
stands on the most firm legal foundation V

" Most candidly and frankly, then," re-
plied Somers, " I assure you that, in my
opinion, your title is the best."

Emma, after an instant spent in medi-
tation, raised her eyes and said : " We are
strangers, here, Mr. Somers, totally unac-
quainted with any whom we can look to
for advice ; we would not have our rights

1850.]

Everstone.

trampled upon ; in you, sir, we see a per-
son capable of having justice done towards
us, and a person, too, who, I can not
doubt, possesses all that unswerving integ-
rity which is so much needed in an advo-
cate, and — it is said — so seldom found in
any. Thiak us not unreasonable in desi-
ring to reta'" yoiu" assistance — blame Na-
ture, sir, w To has given you the appear-
ance 0^ one worthy to be confided in.
Thuo much of character we are able to
distinguish in the voice, to read on the
countenance, and knowing this, we may
believe on the world's assui'ance, that Mr.
Somers is also gifted with every other
quality which his clients can ask for.
Judge you, then, sir, whether we ought to
be willing to lose the benefit of this legal
ability, and perhaps to see it arrayed
against us.'"

'' Do not suppose for a moment," an-
swered Somers, " that if I should not be
your lawyer, I could act against you. Ev-
ery sentiment of honor must forbid such a
course. Understand me, I pray you, I do
not hope for Mr. Everlyn's success at your
expense. Whatever be the result, it must
give me pain. Yet, I am disposed, with-
out murmuring, to let the law decide. AU
that I ask for, is to be relieved from the
necessity of being myself an agent in my
friend's injury."

" I am sure, Mr. Somers," said Emma
mildly, " that I speak for my father, when
I say he has no disposition to insist upon
your incurring the slightest embarrassment
or pain. Procure us, then, sir, another
person to act in your stead, to whose hands
our rights may be as securely committed
as to your own — do this, and we relinquish
all claim to further counsel. Upon you, is
now our reliance ; do we ask too much,
when we ask that you may not leave us to
be wronged and betrayed.'"

" I thank you," said the lawyer, " I
thank you for the release from my engage-
ment— and I thank you most of all for the
confidence you repose on me. Be assured
it is not misplaced."

Somers went to Daylsborough, the coun-
ty seat, with a heart much lightened. On
the way he thought over those whom he
might select as counsellor for the New
Yorker. As Caleb Schrowder had re-
marked, there was an abundance of law-
yer's signs on the doors, around the Court

House, but of the whole number of practi-
tioners at the Redlaud bar, there were not
many honest, not many capable, and very
few indeed both capable and honest. He
visited several whom he thought most reli-
able. To his surpiiBe he found them all
retained by the parties on the other side.
He was not prepared to see such extensive
precautions taken in a case which, how-
ever protracted it might be, involved mere-
ly a question of fact, not of law.

In Daylsborough, there was an attorney
named Mallefax, one of the sharpest of a
class whose acuteness is not of a kind to do
them any credit. Such was his capacity
for mischief that the only wonder was that
he did not effect more. Fortunately for
the peace of the community, however, al-
most every individual in the county was ac-
quainted with him, and he must have been
a fool indeed, who, knowing Mallefax,
would trust him.

This individual met our friend in the
street, " Oh Somers," he said, " how do
you do f — in a hurry eh ? I wish you
would drop into my ofiice in the course of
half an hour ; I want to have five minutes
talk with you about that matter of John-
son's."

" Very well, I will," said Somers ; and
not long afterwards, he proceeded to fulfil
his promise. When he entered the office,
Mallefax had his hat on, and exclaimed,
with a sudden glance through the window,
" There goes Higgs now ! — I have a judg-
ment against the fellow, and those sweet
sheriffs always take pains to keep their eyes
shut when they ought to be open. Take
a seat Somers, take a seat — I'U be back in
one instant "

Thus saying, the attorney brushed by,
but did not leave his visitor alone. In the
arm-chair, beyond the table, sat a person-
age of more importance than might have
been inferred from his shabby blue coat,
and mean, pock-marked features. It was
John Astiville, the wealthiest man of three
counties. He treated the meeting as if
accidental, but addressed the lawyer of his
opponents as graciously as his habitually
consequential tone allowed. They talked
for some time upon various indifibrent top-
ics. Somers, however, had no inclination
to court his intimacy, and the conversa-
tion began to flag. It was then that Mr.
Astiville, by the sonorous clearing of his

Everstone.

[Jan.

throat, seemed to be preparing to utter
something of more moment.

" I have been thinking, Mr. Somers, of
buying another block of houses in St.
John's — that place, by the way, is improv-
ing greatly — now, I wonder if I couldn't
get you to examine into the title for me.
It is not every one that I would trust.
Crawford, joxx. know, has been doing most
of my business, but he has become quite
advanced in years, and is failing fast. "

Somers merely inclined his head, and
remained silent.

Astiville continued, " The old man is
careful, very, but too slow. I want some
one who is not only prudent, but prompt
and enterprising. To a person that suited
me I could, myself, insure a very pretty
practice."

Somers had the reputation of being a
keen, energetic man of business. All who
had dealings with him declared that they
had never seen any one more cool, saga-
cious, and long-sighted. Astiville, who
was not accustomed to associate shrewd-
ness with a very scrupulous morality,
thought the thrifty, self-made lawyer would
be the last man to reject the side where the
greatest pecuniary advantage lay. So, he
went on confidently to ply him with per-
suasions.

" I hear these New Yorkers want to get
you to plead for them ; but I presume you
are too wise to be so taken in. Their
cause is sure to be very unpopular ; depend
upon it, no jury that can begot in Dayls-
borough will ever decide for the Yankees,
against two of the oldest families in the
county — I mean the Astivilles and the Ev-
erlyns. Indeed, it would be a plaguy
shame if they did. There's Everlyn,
now, who would lose I suppose nearly all
he has in the world ; for, of course, I gave
no warranty when I sold the land, and he'll
have to depend upon the law without look-
ing to me."

" Yet it seems," said Somers, " that the
New Yorkers bought of Compton's exe-
cutors previous to Mr. Everlyn's purchase
from you — whether he knew of the fact I
cannot tell."

Astiville answered quickly, " Whether
he knew it or not is nothing to the purpose.
What concerns you most, I suppose, is not
to be on the losing side ; and I tell you,
Mr. Somers, that if you undertake for

Newlove, and the rest, you will find the
whole voice of the county against you.
Mark my words, for as certainly as clouds
bring rain, they will be verified."

" Whether I become advocate for these
Northerners," said Somers, "is as vet un-
certain, but though I should rpfuse to be,
I could not ena;age against th „, "

" In this suit you mean," sV^d AstivHIe.
"That's all very proper and coi-.-^ct. Of
course, you couldn't think of going si^^'ight
over from one side to the other. Just let
me show you how it can be managed. One
of the New Yorker's — that conceited, na-
sal-toned, prating fool, called Schrowder —
has got into a war with the squatters — not
by your advice, I suppose."

" Certainly not," said Somers ; " this is
the first I have heard of it."

" I thought as much," continued Asti-
ville ; " you see what a fine thing it is to
have a client who possesses a judgment of
his own. Suppose now I give the squat-
ter, Foley, a hint to hand you a retaining
fee — this is a private matter between him
and Schrowder, so there can be no harm in
it."

" No, sir," answered the lawyer, de-
cidedly ; "I prefer to have nothing to do
with the affair."

" Well, act as you please," said Mr.
Astiville, " but think of what I have been
telling you."

At this he favored Somers with an
equivocal sort of nod, and left the office.
It was a surprising coincidence that the
rich man was no sooner through with his
business than Mallefox was able to disen-
gage himself from his avocation in the
street. He re-entered with a great bustle ;
but the communication he had to make
was so unimportant that Somers could eas-
ily conjecture that in this matter, as in
some others, the ostensible object was not
the real one.

The following Monday was court day.
Among the crowd, whom the occasion drew
to Daylsborough, Somers observed the
solemn physiognomy of Caleb Schrowder.
The New Yorker came up, caught him by
the arm, and drew him aside — " Look
here, Mr. Somers, I've been planning a
mess of work for you."

" Well, out with it, then," said the
lawyer, not over-courteously.

" Why, you must understand," said

1850.]

Everstone.

Sclirowder, " that this chap, Foley's got
a cabin on the lot of land I bought. You
may depend I wasn't slow to give him no-
tice to cut dirt. What do you think,
though } He sticks up his nose and grins
in my face, and tells me he wouldn't quit the
land nohow. But I was determined to show
him I came from a place where folks knew
something about law. That corn and cab-
bage patch of his is a nuisance, right in
the midst of my ground — yes mine, bought
and paid for — wasn't it a nuisance, now V

He looked up with inquisitiveness ; but
Somers only said — " Go on."

So he continued — " Sure as preachin' it
is a nuisance — and I went to stressing of
it."

'• You mean abating, I suppose," re-
marked Somers, with a smile.

" I don't know what you call it down
South, but in York state it's stress. At
any rate I sot to work tearing down his
fence ; and then, since the hogs would have
got at the cabbage, I thought I might as
well pull up some, being as folks are in
want to home, and what I took could go
for part rent. This Foley, though like a
wild Injin, stove right at me."

' ' Did he make that blue spot under your
eye .?"

" Is there a spot sure enough!" said
Schrowder. " Well, I thought I felt a
light tech, but of course I weren't a going
to have a scrimmage with a low-lived beg-
gar like him, so I walks off. Now, I want
the law to talk up for me."

" The best advice," said Somers, "that
I can give you is to settle this affair in the
most quiet way possible."

" But shall I leave that blackguard on
my lot .'"

"No; pay any moderate sum he may
ask, and get him off in that way."

" Pay him!" exclaimed Schrowder in a
tone of amazement. " Has he any right
to the land.?"

" None," answered Somers.

" What has he got to sell me then .?"

" Possession ; and that is a thing which
you will find it very difficult and very ex-
pensive to get in any other mode."

"Chop me up into mince-meat if I pay
him one cent," said the New Yorker in-
dignantly ; " you'll fix it up for me in
court, wont you .?"

" m manage it without going into court ;

give me leave to offer him fifty or a hun-
dred dollars."

" I wont — I wont — I wont^'' — said
Schrowder, shaking his head with marvel-
lous rapidity.

"Look here," said Somers, seriously,
" You know what hoinets arc I presume ?
Well, you would do better to make a foot-
ball of a hornet's nest than to enter into a
a contest with Foley, or any other squatter.
In the one case, you might be very uncom-
fortably stung, yet you could, perhaps, get
somebody to fetch you hartshorn or onions ;
stir up the squatters, however, and you
will draw the whole neighborhood upon you.
Y''our land itself may bo lost in the squab-
ble."

" That's my look-out," answered the
New Yorker ; " so just say the word, wUl
you do this job for me, or must I hire
somebody else V

" You may ruin yourself if you choose,"
said Somers, " but I will not help you do
it."

Schrowder turned away with dogged
composure. Seeing Tom Foley in earnest
conversation in front of a tavern, curiosity
to learn what was the subject of his dis-
course, prompted him to direct his steps
thither ; and though he had good reason to
doubt the propriety of intruding upon the
squatter at his lonesome dwelling in the
woods, he felt no apprehensions under the
shadow of the Temple of Justice. The
crowd certainly looked rather shyly at the
Northerner as he approached, yet, saving
bodily peril, it would be diflBcult to imagine
anything that could daunt or disconcert his
father's son. Foley, altogether engrossed
with his harangue, was perhaps the only
person who did not notice the new-comer.
"Hang the Yankees!" he said, "what
good do they do here any way .?"

" I'll just inform you, my friend," said
Schrowder, and then, as P^oley jumped
around very suddenly, and faced him, ad-
ded, "that is if you will keep down the
unruly passions, and listen to me, and open
the doors and windows of your heart to in-
struction. Do you ask what we Yorkers
come for .' Why, it is to civilize you all,
and show you the things that are right.
All around here, what can you behold
that's in sorts .? Where's your ploughs,
your rollers, your cultivators, your churns,
your sassage-choppers, your hoes even ? I

Everstone.

[Jan.

haven't seen one decent thing since I have
been here. Stir yourselves up folks, and
learn, if you can, from them that know
how."

" Where were your gloves made. Par-
son .''" and the incj^uiry came from a by-
stander.

"My gloves.'' — Where's my gloves.^"
said Caleb Schrowder, anxiously feeling
his pockets ; " P'shaw, I left 'em to home.
Yes, I know I did ; I told wife to darn a
hole in the right thumb."

" You are mistaken, they're on your
hands now!" replied the man, with a
laugh ; " and see, there's the hole, too,"
he added, pointing to a wide-gaping seam
in the horny skin of the Yorker's palm.

" Yes," cried Schrowder, no ways
abashed, "them's hands that a body
needn't be ashamed to own. They are
paws to work with, not to pick shumake
and handle cards. If your hands were as
hard as they'd ought to be, this country
"would have fewer gullies, and pines, and
bull-briers. That's the first pint : you
ought to be less lazy. You see, I'm not a
false prophet, that comes to flatter and de-
lude you ; but I speak the truth in all
plainness — fearing nothing. In the second
place, all you people wants edicating. You
don't know how to do right, and therefore
you couldn't do it, though you were to try
ever so hard. Your rules of farming are
bad — that is if you've got any rules, which
I much misdoubt ; your laws, may -be,
were once worth some little, but they are
now like a nest of eggs that a settin' hen
has quit — neither good sass for puddin' nor
live hopping chickens. The big-bug 'stoc-
racy has turned you loose, yet you aint got
into free suff"rage — you stand betwixt and
and between, to let the good-for-nothing
constables pull your noses and card your
backs. The only thing you are smart at is
in making the darkies mind you, and I can
prove to anybody's satisfaction very quick
that you might have a much better busi-
ness."

As Schrowder paused one second, to
brush his sleeve across his mouth, and to
take in a fresh stock of breath, a huge,
good-natured-looking man, whose voice
was marked with the peculiar and drawling
softness of the " up-country," gave him a
nudge with the elbow, and said, " Shut up,
neighbor, or you may find yourself in a

fix." The New Yorker, heartily despising
the well-intended suggestion, opened his
mouth, and was about to resume the dis-
course, when Tom Foley got the start of
him.

" Hear me, gentlemen ; I reckon I'm
worth as much attention as that bag of
wind. Do you want to understand what
the Yankees have come for } It's to get
our land and drive us from the country.
What business have they with our laws, or
farming either } Can't we lay off our own
corn-rows, without having them to set the
stakes for us .'' A few rich people may be
willing enough to have new settlers come
and buy from them, but I wonder if we
are helped .?"

" Get more honesty, then," interposed
Schrowder, mounting a horse-block and
gesticulating with less grace than energy ;
"Be more honest, I say, and you won't be
so discontented ; give up what don't belong
to you, and buy laud of your own if you've
got the chink to do it with ; if you aint,
pull up sticks and and sneak off to Massis-
sippi, or Texas, or some place else."

" Who are you calling sneak V exclaim-
ed Foley, grasping the lappet of his adver-
sary's coat.

"Stop, stop!" said Schrowder, "let's
argyfy the matter."

" Yes ! you copper-faced Yankee, I
will argue it sure enough. What do you
think, neighbors, this chap's no sooner got
a deed from Compton's heirs than he must
take to smashing my fence, and stealing
my cabbages, though I've been on the
place before ever he knew, I reckon, that
the world had any better country than his
cold, rocky, diggins. I have a plagey sight
firmer title to the land this minute than he
has, for old John Astiville says I shall have
a hundred acres, without a cent to pay.
See what a difference there is between a
true gentleman — for old John, if he is
close, is a gentleman — and these mean pork
and molasses trash !"

" Your brag, gentleman," said the other
boldly, " is mighty generous with what is
not his, but you may just calculate on this
— there are more on us Yorkers than you
think of, and there's plenty to come — we'U
soon be able to brush you all away like
fleas. Then, when we get the lines in our
grip, if you don't act conformable, and
raise your bread on your own lot, we'll

1850.]

Everstone.

have to build up some nice stun peniten-
tiaries to feed you in."

The vaunting prediction was rather pre-
maturely made, as the prophet soon saw
plainly enough. More than one clenched
fist was shaken in his face, more than one
mouth rolled forth accusations and threats.
Poor Schrowder, in great trepidation, look-
ed around from his elevated position.
" Ain't there no constables about here,"
he said, " to save a body from being mur-
dered .5"

" Yes, I'm one," said a man, pushing
through the crowd, " do you want my
services .?"

The New Yorker, much relieved, beck-
oned with his hand, and said, " that's it,
come quick !"

The person invoked advanced, and step-
ping upon the horse-block, stood by his
side. "You want my help, do you.?"
said he, " well of course I can only give it
as I know how — you say that we are good-
for-nothing constables, and are only fit to
pull people's noses, so don't be aston-
nished."

But Caleb Schrowder was astonished,
and in leaning back to avoid the significantly
adjusted fore-finger and thumb, forgot the
lunited dimensions of the block, and ere he
could well exclaim " Bimer Zouterdout !"
had measured his length on the gravel.

The ridiculousness of his appearance as
he lay with sprawling arms may have saved
him from more serious mishaps. The large
good-natured man, who had before inter-
posed, was too zealous a peace-maker not
to avail himself of the present favorable
opportunity. " Let's let him go boys, he's
not worth more than to be laughed at.
And you friend," he added, addressing the
discomfited northerner, who had now re-
covered his feet, though not his courage,
" make tracks as fast as you can, don't
stop in Daylsborough. Remember we
haven't had om* dram yet ; after that you

might not get ofi" so easily. Go before
you get so battered and altered that your
wife won't let you in — keep your tongue to
yourself, and hurry !''''

There was no need to repeat the exhor-
tation. Though Schrowder's breast was
boiling over with pungent reflections, his
desire to give them vent, only supplied
wings to the speed with which he removed
himself and his oratory to a safer locality.

The commotion however, which his un-
prudence had excited, by no means termi-
nated with the cessation of its cause. The
vague prejudices previously felt against
the northern settlers, were not only con-
firmed, but seemed about to be resolved
into a determined and lasting hostility.
Somers observed this state of the public
mind with great concern. For Schrowder,
indeed, he entertained little sympathy, but
Ralph Dubosk was really a worthy man;
and, as to the Newloves, they had won his
hearty and unreserved interest. The more
he investigated the matter, the greater ap-
prehension he felt that they would fail to
receive justice at the hands of a jury.
Everlyn's efforts, he found, to secure his
three thousand acres were less than those
which Astiville put forth for the sake of
the remaining one thousand of the contest-
ed tract. Every means that cunning could
devise had been employed to bring about
the defeat of the New Yorkers, and the
painful conviction forced itself upon Somers
that if he withdrew them, their cause would
be nearly hopeless. Emma Newlove's con-
fiding appeal was not forgotten. Ardent
as was his attachment to Miss Everlyn, he
felt that the sight of her success could not
compensate him for the reflection that her
gentle and equally mnocent opponent had
been a loser by his desertion. He was too
much accustomed to search the consciences
of others to misinterpret the dictates of
his own. The way of duty was plain, and
he determined to pursue it.

To he Continued.

TOL. V. NO. I. NEW SERIES.

Congressional Summary.

[Jan*

CONGRESSIONAL SUMMARY.

As a table for ready reference, we have
thought it would be useful to present the fol-
lowing list of the members of the two Houses
of Congress, taken chiefly from the New York
Tribune, which, it is believed, will pretty ac-
curately show their political complexion :

XXXIsT CONGRESS.

The Whigs are indicated by iiaZics, the "Free Soil,"

by SMALL CAPITALS.

SENATE. ■•■"''

President -MILLARD FILLMORE, Vice President U. S.

Secretary. — Asbuky Dickens.

Term
Alabama. Expires.
Jeremiah Clemens*.... 1 853

William R. King* 1855

Arkansas.
William K. Sebastian.. 1853

Solon Borland 1855

Connecticut.

Roger S. Baldwin 1851

Truman Smith 1855

Delaware.

John Wales 1851

Presley Spruance 1853

Florida.

David L.YuIee 1851

Jackson Morton 1855

Georgia.

John M. Berrien 1853

William C.Dawson 1855

Indiana.

Jesse D. Bright 1851

James Whitcomb 1855

Illinois.
Stephen A. Douglass.. .1853

James Shields 1855

Iowa.

George W. Jones 1853

Augustus C.Dodge 1855

Kentucky.
Joseph R. Underwood.. 1852

Henry Clay 1855

Louisiana.

Solomon U. Downs 1853

Pierre Soule 1855

Maine.

Hannibal Hamlin 1851

James W. Bradbury. ..1853
Massachusetts.

Daniel Webster 1851

John Davis 1 853

Maryland.

David Stewart 1851

James A. Pearce 1850

Mississippi.

Jefferson Davis 1851

Henry S. Foote 1855

Term
Michigan. Expires.

Lewis Cass 18M

Alpheus Felch 1853

Missouri.

Thomas H. Benton 1851

David R. Atchison 1855

New Hampshire.

John P.Hale 16.53

Moses Noris, Jr 1855

New York.
Daniel S. Dickinson... 1851

William H. Seward 1855

New Jersey.

William L. Dayton 1851

Jacob W. Miller 1853

North Carolina.
Willie P. Mangum.....'i 853

George E. Badger 1855

Ohio.

Thomas Corwin 1851

Salmon P. Chase 1855

Pennsylvania.

Daniel Sturgeon 1851

James Cooper 1855

Rhode Island.

Albert C. Greene 1851

John H. Clarke 1853

South Carolina.

John C. Calhoun 1853

Arthur P.Butler 1855

Tennessee.
Hopkins L. Turney.. .1851

John Bell 1853

Texas.

Thomas J. Rusk 1851

Samuel Houston 1853

VERMONT.

Samuel S.Phelps 1851

William Upham 1853

Virginia.

James M. Mason 1851

Robert M. T. Hunter.. 1853
Wisconsin.

Henry Dodge 1851

Isaac P. Walker 1855

Total— Democrats, 34 ; Whigs, 24 ; Free Soil, 2.

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES.

Dist.

Arkansas.
1. Robert W. Johnson
Alabama.

1. William J. Alston,

2. Henry W. HilUard,

3. Sampson W. Harris,

4. Samuel W. Inge,

5. David Hubbard,

6. Williamson R. W. Cobb.

7. Fran. W. Bowdon.

Connecticut.

1. Loren P. Waldo,

2. Walter Booth,

3. Chauncey F. Cleveland,

4. Thomas B. Butler.

Delaware.
1. John W. Houston,

Florida.
1. Edward C. Cabell.

Georgia.

1. Thomas Butler King,

2. Marshall J. Welborn,

3. Allen F- Owen,

4. Hugh A Haralson,

5. Thomas C. Hackett,

6. Howell Cobb,

7. Alexander H. Stephens,

8. Robert Toombs.

Illinois.

1. William H. Bissell,

2. John A. McClernand,

3. Thomas R. Young,

4. John Wentvvorth,

5. William A. Richardson,

6. Edward D. Baker,

7. Thomas L. Harris.

lowA.

1. William Thompson,

2, Shepherd Leffler.

Indiana.

1. Nathaniel Albertson,

2. Cyrus L. Dunham,

3. John L. Robinson,

4. George W. Julian,

5. VVilliiim J. Brown,

6. Willis A. Gorman,

7. Edward M McGaughey,

8. Joseph E. McDonald,

9. Graham N. Fitch,
10. Andrew J. Harlan.

Kentucky.

1. Linn Boyd,

2. James L. Johnson,
3 Finis E. McLean,

4. George A Caldwell,

5. John B. Thompson,

6. Daniel Breck,

7. Humphrey Marshall,

8. Charles S. Moreliead,

9. John C. Mason,

10. Richard H. Stanton.
Louisiana.

1. Emile La Sere,

2. Charles M. Conrad.

3. John H. Harmanson,

4. Isaac E. Morse,

Dist.

Maine.

1. Elbridge Gerry,

2. Nathaniel S. Littlefield,

3. John Otis,

4 RufusK. Goodenow,

5. CuUen Sawtelle,

6. Charles Stetson,

7. Thomas J. D. Fuller.
, Maryland.

1. Richard I. Bowie,

2. William T. Hamilton,

3. Edward Hammond,

4. Robert M. McLane,

5. Alexander Evans,

6. John Bo-.man Ker.

Massachusetts.

1. Robert C. Winthrop,

2. Daniel P. King,

3. James H. Duncan,

4. Vacancy,

5. Charles Allen,

6. George Ashmun,

7. Julius Rockwell,

8. Horace Mann,

9. Orin Fowler,
10. Joseph Grinnd.

Michigan.

1. Alexander W. Buel,

2. William Sprague,

3. Kinsley S. Bingham.

Missouri.

1. James B. Bowlin,

2. Wilham V. N. Bay,

3. James S. Green,

4. Willard P. Hall,

5. John S. Phelps.

Mississippi.

1. Jacob Thompson,

2. Win'd S. Featherston,

3. William McWillie,

4. Albert G. Brown.

New Jersey.

1. Andrew K. Hay,

2. William A Newell,

3. Isaac Wildrick,

4. John Van Dyke,

5. James G. King.

Rhode Island.

1. George G. King,

2. Nathan F. Dixon.

South Carolina,

1. Daniel Wallace,

2. James L. Orr,

3. Joseph A. Woodward,

4. James McQueen,

5. Armistead Burt,

6. Isaac E. Holmes,

7. William F. Colcock.

Wisconsin.

1. Charles Dobkee,

2. Orasmus Cole,

3. James Duane Doty.

Texas.

1. David S. Kaufman,

2. Volney E. Howard.

1850.]

Congressio7ial Summary.

Dist.

Virginia.

1. John S. Millson,

2. Richard K. Meade,

3. Thomas H. Averett,

4. Thomas S. Bocock,

5. Paulus Po^vell,

6. James A. Seddon,

7. Thomas H. Bayly,

8. Alexander R. HollaJay,

9. Jeremiah Morton,

10. Richard Parker,

11. James JIcDowell,

12. H. A. Edmondson,

13. Fayette M'MuUin,

14. James M. H. Beale,

15. Thomas S. Haijmond.

New York.

1. John A. King,

2. David A. Bokee,

3- Jonas Phillips Phanix,

4. Walter Underhill,

5. George Briggs,
6- James Brooks,

7. William Nelson,

8. Ransom Halloway,

9. Thomas Mr.Kissock,
j^O. Herman D- Gould,

11. Peter H- Silvester,

12. Gideon O. Reynolds,

13. John L- Schoolcraft,

14. George R. Andrews,

15. John R. Thurman,

16. Hugh Wdte,

17. Henry P. Alexander,

18. Pkeston King,
19_ Charles E. Clarke,
20. Orsemus B. Matteson,
21 j Hiram Walden,

22. Henry Bennett,

23. William Duer,

24. Daniel Gott,

25. Harman S. Conger,

26. William T. Jackson,

27. William A. Sackett,

28. Ab. M. Schermerkorn,

29. Robert L. Rose,

30. David Rumsey,

31. Elijah Risley,

32. Elbridge G. Spalding,

33. Harvey Putnam,

34. Lorenzo Burrows.

Pennsylvania.
1. Lewis C- Levin, (Native.

Joseph R. Chandler,

Henry D. JMoore,

John Robins, jv.

John Frcedley,

Thomas Ross,

Jesse C. Dickey,

Thaddevs Stevens,
9. WiUiam Strong,

10. Milo M. Dimmick,

11. Chester Butler,

12. David Wilmot,

13. Joseph Casey,

Dist.

14. Charles W- Pitman,

15. Henry Net,

16. James X. McLanahan,

17. Samuel Calvin,

18. Andrew Jackson Ogle,

19. Job Mann,

20. Robert R. Reed,

21. Moses Hampton,

22. John W. Howe,

23. James Thompson,

24. Alfred Gilmore.

Ohio.

1. David T. Disney,

2. Lewis D. Campbell,

3. Robert C, Schenck,

4. Moses B. Conoin,

5. Emery D. Porter,

6. Amos E. Wood,

7. Jonathan D. Morris,

8. John L. Taylor,

9. Edson B. Olds,

10. Charles Sweetzer,

11. John K. Miller,

12. Samuel F- Vinton,

13. William A. Whittlesey,

14. Nathan Evans,

15. Wm. F. Hunter,

16. Moses Hoagland

17. Joseph Cable,

18. David K. Carter,

19. John Crowell,

20. Joshua R. Giddings,

21. Joseph M. Root.

Tennessee.

1. Andrew Johnson,

2. Jilbert G. Watson,

3. Josiah M. Jinderson.

4. John H. Savage,

5. George W. Jones,

6. James H. Thomas,

7. Meredith P. Gentry,

8. Andrew Ewing,

9. Isham G. Harris,
10- Frederic P. Stanton,
11. Christopher H. Williams,

Vermont.

1. William Henry,

2. William Hebard,

3. James Meacham,

4. Lucius B. Peck.

New Hampshire.
1. Amos Tuck,
) 3. Charles H. Peaslee,

3. James Wilson,

4. Harry Hibbard.
North Carolina.

1. Thomas L. Clingman,

2. Joseph P. Caldwell,

3. Edmund Deberry,

4. Aug7istus H. Sheppard,

5. Abraham W. Venable,

6. William S. Ashe,

7. John R. J, Daniel,

8. Edward Stanly,

9. David Outlaw.

DELEGATES.
Minesota — H. H. Sibley,
Oregon— S, R, Thurston,
tiew Mexico — Hush N. Smith.
Deseret — Almon W, Babbitt,

RECAPITULATION.

Stites. Whig, Loco.

Alabama 2

Arkansas —

Connecticut 1

Delaware 1

Florida 1

Georgia 4

Illinois 1

Indiana 1

Iowa —

Kentucky 6

States
Mississippi.

Missouri

New Hampshire.. 2

New Jersey 4

New York 32

North Carolina... 6

Ohio 8

Pennsylvania 15

Rhode Island 2

South Carolina...—

Whig, Loco.

....— 4

5
2
1
2
3
11
9

States. Whig . Loco.

Louisiana 1

Maine 2

Maryland 3

Massachusetts.... 8
Michigan 1

Total Ill 116

Not classed — Messrs. Allen, of Massachusetts, Giddings,
and Root, of Ohio.

States.

Whig.

Loco.

Tennessee . .

Texas

Vermont

—

Virginia

Wisconsin .

SENATE.

The Senate organized on Monday, the 3d of
December, conformably to the Constitution
of the United States. There being a quorum,
it was resolved that the House of Represen-
tatives be informed that they Avere ready to
proceed to business. On the 6th, a resolution
was adopted, authorizing the Vice President,
in consequence of an aflection of his eyes, to
employ a clerk who might assist him in his
correspondence. It was stated by Mr. Man-
gum, that it was the practice, during the Vice
Presidency of Col. Johnson, to allow a Secre-
tary to the President of the Senate. There
being no organization of the House of Repre-
sentatives, the Senate merely met and adjourn-
ed, from day to day, Avithout transacting any
business of an important character^ until

Saturday Dec. 15. Mr. Berrien after a
few introductory remarks offered the following
resolution ; —

Resolved, That a Committee to consist of
three Senators, be appointed to wait on the
President of the United States, to notify him
that the Senate is now organized and ready
to receive any communication which he may
think proper to make to them, in relation to
matters which are within the sphere of their
separate constitutional action.

Mr. Clay said, that in resuming the seat
which he occupied in that body, it had been
his desire to take the lead on no subject and of
no party, but to perform in the best manner he
could the duties of his position. When the
same state of things existed a few years ago
in the House, the Senate proceeded in the dis-
charge of its executive duties. The only dif-
ficulty which had occurred to his mind, related
to the deference and respect due to the other
House. The Senate occupies two relations to
the House of Representatives — both a legisla-
tive and a judicial one — it has also a relation
to the executive department of the govern-
ment. Although we might not be able to co-
operate with the House, we could, neverthe-
less, perform our duties as a component part
of the Executive of the country. He could
perceive no reason why any member of the
other House could take umbrage for proceed-
ing with business of this nature, and he did
not think any one would doubt the propriety
of the course which the Senator of Georgia
had seen fit to adopt.

100

Congressional Summary.

[Jan.

By unanimous consent, the resolution was
adopted. The Vice President appointed
Messrs. Berrien, Mason, and Felch to form
the Committee. After an absence of thirty
minutes the Committee returned and reported
that it had performed its duty, and that the
President had stated that he would communi-
cate to the Senate on Monday.

Mr. Dickinson gave notice that on Mon-
day next he would move that the Senate pro-
ceed to the election of the Standing Commit-
tees of that body.

On Tuesday, the 18th of December, on
motion of Mr. Mangum, the Senate proceeded
to fill the Standing Committees. No objection
being made, the following named gentlemen
were elected to fill the respective Committees,
viva voce :

Foreign Relations. — Messrs. Foote, Web-
ster, Benton, and Mangum.

Finance — Messrs. Hunter, Phelps, Doug-
lass, and Pearce.

Commerce — Messrs. Soule, Davis of Mass.,
Dodge of Wis., and Bell.

Manufactures — Messrs. Butler, Clark, Jones
and Up ham.

Agriculture — Messrs. Turney, Spruance,
Walker and Corwin.

Military Affairs — Borland, Green, Shields
and Dawson.

Militia — Messrs. Dodge of Wis., Morton,
Clement and Spruance.

Naval Affairs — Messrs. Mason, Badger,
Bright and Miller.

Public Lands — Messrs. Borland, Under-
wood, Shields and Smith.

Private Land Claims — Messrs. Whitcomb,
Davis of Mass., Clemens, and Badger of
North Carolina.

Indian Affairs — Messrs. Sebastian, Bell,
Rush and Wales.

Claims — Messrs. Whitcomb, Underwood,
Stewart and Baldwin.

Revolutionary Claims — Messrs. Norris,
Upham, Dodge of Iowa, and Cooper.

Post Office — Messrs. Upham and Soule.

Roads and Canals — Messrs. Atchison,
Greene, Foote and Spruance.

Pensions — Messrs. Jones, Phelps, Stewart
and Dayton.

Patents— M&&SXS. Norris, Wales, Wliitcomb
and Dawson.

Retrenchment— Messrs. Houston, Mangum,
Felch and Clark.

Library — Messrs. Mason and Davis of
Mississippi.

Public Buildings— Messrs. Davis of Miss.,
and Clarke.

Contingent Expenses— Messrs. Walker and
Baldwin.

Enrolled Bills— Mr. Badger.

Engrossed Bills — Messrs. Corwin and Se-
bastian.

Printing — Messrs. Hamlin and Smith.

Objection being made by Messrs. Hale and
Chase to the election of the following Com-
mittees, by motion, they were filled by ballot
as follows : —

Judiciary — Messrs. Downs, Berrien, Brad-
bury and Dayton.

District of Columbia — Messrs. Yulee, Mil-
ler, Shields and Berrien.

Territories — Messrs. Butler, Underwood,
Houston and Cooper.

On motion of Mr. Mangum, the Senate pro-
ceeded to Executive business, and subsequently
adjourned.

HOUSE OF representatives.

As a preliminary proceeding to the business
of the session, the two great political divisions
of the Members of the House of Representa-
tives respectively met in Caucus, on Saturday
evening, the 1st of December, to select persons
whom each party would sustain for the Speak-
ership. The Democrats, by a majority of
votes, agreed upon Howell Cobb, of Georgia.
The Whigs, unfortunately, were disturbed by
the following Resolution, which was oflfered
by Mr. Toombs, of Georgia : —

Resolved., That we will discountenance and
oppose all legislation by Congress on the sub-
ject of slavery in the Territories or in the Dis-
trict of Columbia.

The resolution was chiefly opposed by
Whigs of the South, and it was iinally laid
over, to avoid all pretext for a rupture. Six
Southern members thereupon retired, and took
no further part in the proceedings. The se-
ceders were Messrs. Toombs, Stephens, and
Owen, of Georgia; Mr. Cabell, of Florida,
and Mr. Hilliard, of Alabama. The caucus
then nominated Mr. Winthrop, of Massa-
chusetts.

Monday Dec. 3. At 12 o'clock, Thomas
J. Campbell, the Clerk of the last House call-
ed to order, and proceeded to read from an in-
formal list the names of the members elect.
All except seven answered.

Mr. Lynn Boyd, of Kentucky, moved that
the House now elect, viva voce, a Speaker.
The Clerk appointed Messrs. Duer, of New
York, Strong, of Penn., Hilliard, of Ala-
bama, and Miller, of Ohio, as Tellers.

The Roll was then called, and each mem-
ber, as named, voted for Speaker, with the
following result :

For Howell Cobb, of Georgia, (Democrat)
103; Robert C. Winthrop, of Massachu-
setts, (Whig) 96 ; David Wilmot, of Penn-
sylvania, (Free Soil) 8; M. P. Gentry, of
Tennessee, (Southern Whig) 6 ; and there
were six scattering votes. There was no
choice. A second vote resulted precisely as
the first. On the third vote Cobb and Wil-
mot each lost one vote, but the general re-

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

101

suit was the same. Mr. Holmes, of S. C,
now moved an adjournment to noon the next
day, but the motion was lost. A fourth vote
was exactly like the last. The House ad-
journed to the following day.

Tuesday, Dec. 4. The arrivals since the
previous roll-call had reduced the number of
absent to three. The voting for Speaker was
resumed. The fifth vote gave Cobb, 102;
WiNTHROP, 96; WiLMOT, 10) Gentry, 6;
scattering, 10. There was consequently no
election. The sixth vote gave Cobb, 101 ;
WiNTHROP, 97 ; WIlmot, 9 ; Gentry, 6 ;
scattering 1 1 . No election. They continued
voting until they reached the tenth time, with
scarcely any variation, except that the vote
for Cobb was reduced to 99. The House ad-
journed without having elected a Speaker.

Wednesday, Dec. 5. The elements of the
House were evidently somewhat changing
their relations. The eleventh vote gave Cobb,
98 ; WiNTHROP, 97 ; Gentry, 5 ; Richard-
son, of Illinois, (Democrat,) 4; Potter, of
Ohio, (Democrat,) 4 ; Root, of Ohio, (Free
Soil,) 7 ; and several scattering. No election.
On the ticelfth vote, Cobb had 97 ; for the
others the vote remained unchanged. On the
thirteenth vote Cobb had 93 votes ; Win-
throp, 98 ; and Potter, of Ohio, had 9.
There still being no election, Andrew John-
son, of Tenn., offered the following Resolu-
tion :

Resolved, That on the next vote the individ-
ual receiving a plurality of votes shall be
Speaker, and be so declared by the clerk.

Mr. Holmes, of S. C. moved to lay the re-
solution on the table. It was opposed on the
ground that on no account should minorities
govern. Mr. Ashmun, of Mass. proposed
that if the resolution were adopted the House
should vote by ballot. Mr. Venables, of N.
C. would rather that the whole session should
be spent in voting, than that the House should
abandon the viva voce rule. Every attempt at
overcoming the difficulty being ineffectual, the
House proceeded to vote the fourteenth time,
and gave to Cobb, 89 ; Winthrop, 99 ; the
remaining votes varied slightly from the last
vote before. There being no choice at 3
o'clock, the House adjourned.

Thursday, Dec. 6. Mr. INIcClernand, of
Illinois, proposed^ in the form of a Resolution,
that Lynn Boyd, of Kentucky, be appointed
the Chairman, with power to preserve order
until a speaker should be elected. This was
objected to, as it would virtually fill the Chair
with a Democratic Speaker. The proposition
was laid on the table. No arrangement could
be effected, and the House renewed its attempts
to elect a presiding officer. The eighteenth
vote, which was the last this day, was as fol-
lows : Winthrop, 100; Cobb, 63; Potter,
18; Tuck, 9; Richardson, 26; Gentry, 5;
and some few scattering. There was no elec-

tion, and the House at 3 o'clock again ad-
journed.

Friday, Dec. 7. The voting was resumed
to-day with nearly the same feelings and pur-
poses on the part of the members as had gov-
erned them the day before. The nineteenth
vote gave to Winthrop, 102; to Cobb, 63;
to Richardson, 29; to Potter, 15; to Wil-
mot, 8 ; and the remaining votes differed but
little from the previous voting.

The ttventieth vote was equally fruitless as
the others. The twenty first vote showed that
Mr. Winthrop's friends, supporting him on
the principles of a great party, still stood
shoulder to shoulder, while the Democrats feel-
ing it to be impracticable to elect Mr. Cobb,
were disposed to desert his standard, ^^^thout
having determined whom they could substi-
tute as his successor. Their voting, therefore,
was very much at random, and produced no
result except as it showed their want of unity.
The next two votes left the question apparent-
ly as far from a solution as the first vote of
the first day of the Session. The house ad-
journed. In the evening the democrats held a
caucus meeting to deliberate upon some new
plan for the settlement of this difficult affair.
Mr. Cobb, in a brief speech, declined being
considered any longer a candidate for the
Speakership, and he was, therefore formally
withdrawn, but no other person Avas selected
for the support of the party which had hither-
to sustained him.

Saturday, Dec. 8. There were six addition-
al attempts made this day to elect a Speaker,
but all were unsuccessful. The twenty-eighth
vote stood for Mr. Winthrop, 101 ; Mr.
Potter, 76 ; Mr. Boyd, of Ky, 14 ; Mr. Wil-
MOT, 7 ; Mr. Cobb. 6 ; Mr. Gentry, 5 ; Mr.
Richardson, 4; Mr. Miller, of Ohio, 3;
and nine scattering.

After the thirty-first trial to elect a Speaker,
and there being no choice made, Mr. Morse,
of Louisiana, in order to terminate a contest
which he alleged was becoming ridiculous,
offered the following Resolution :

Resolved, That the clerk of the House be
required to place the names of Howell Cobb
and Robert C. Winthrop in a box, and the
first name drawn out by one of the pages shall
be the Speaker of the thirty-first Congress.

It was well known, said Mr. M. that there
are a few individuals who have obstinately
been voting against either of the candidates,
and would continue against either of the can-
didates that may be brought forward by the
two great parties of this country. This would
forever prevent an organization of the House,
upon the present plan. It was due to the
legislation of tlie country that one or the other
of the two parties should have the control of
the organization of that body.

Mr. Brown, of Mississippi, moved to lay
the resolution on the table.

102

Congressional Nummary.

[Jan.

Mr. Root, of Ohio, did not perceive any
thing ridiculous in the position of the House,
but the attitude of the two great parties
might be so. He spoke of Mr. Morse's propo-
sition as a gambling measure, a lottery, in
which there were as many blanks as prizes.

Mr. Woodward, of South Carolina, re-
pelled the idea that two parties, because they
happen to be large, possess the right to dictate
to individuals how they shall vote. He had
his reasons for voting against the nominee of
the Democratic caucus, and if he could pro-
perly give them to the House, he conceived
that they would be thought by many who
heard him, as satisfactory. He had no candi-
date of his own, but was ready to vote for
any one who was unobjectionable. If a time
had arrived when his vote would have decided
the question, he had been prepared to give it ;
but he could not give a mere complimentary
vote.

Mr. Morse replied. Would we sit here, he
said, and allow a few gentlemen to defeat all
attempts at organization, until the public press
should cry shame on the representatives of
the people ? Gentlemen had told the House
that they would remain here and vote for
months before they would change their position.

Mr. Brown, of Mississippi, indulged in a
little humor at the expense of the previous
speakers. He trusted that the question would
not be further discussed.

The resolution was then laid on the table.

Mr. ScHENCK, of Ohio, moved the follow-
ing resolution : —

Resolved^ That the House do now proceed
to the election of Speaker, and that the vote
be taken by ballot.

If adopted, this resolution, said Mr. S.
will effect a great saving of time, inasmuch as
they could vote twenty times a day by this
method. He thought it desirable that the
presiding officer should not know by what
votes he was placed in the chair — a principle
he thought in accordance with the theory of
our government.

Mr. Venables said he could not consent to
vote for the proposition of the gentleman of
Ohio. A vote by ballot for Speaker, if it al-
tered the vote at all, must produce the effect
for one of two reasons, either the disposition
of the voter to practice a deception as to his
vote, or a fear of the responsibility when he
returned to his constituents. He had voted
many times for the nominee of the democratic
caucus. He preferred a Speaker from a non-
slaveholding State. He had pledged himself
to his constituents to vote for no Free Soiler
or Abolitionist, and he meant to adhere to his
pledge, whatever might be the result. A vote
by ballot may elect a Speaker, but it will be at
the expense of breaking down a custom found-
ed in wisdom and productive of the best con-
sequences.

Mr. Thompson of Mississippi could only
regard the resolution as a reflection upon some
of the members of the body ; and being un-
willing to vote upon any proposition reflecting
upon the motives or integrity of members, he
moved that the resolution be laid on the table.

Mr. ScHENCK replied, and repelled the im-
putation indicated in the remarks of the last
speaker. In answer to Mr. Venables, he re-
ferred to the fact that the mode of voting viva
voce, which had been adopted some ten years
ago, was an innovation upon the old, and,
possibly, the more wholesome principle of
voting by ballot.

The motion to lay on the table was decided
by yeas and nays — yeas 162, nays 62.

Having voted the thirty-second time, without
any decision of the question, Mr. Sweetzer
rose and offered the following resolution:

Wliereas, This House having balloted seven
days for Speaker without an election, it is
manifest that, from present indications, no or-
ganization can now be hoped for : therefore,

Resolved, That, the Senate concurring, this
House stand adjourned until the first day of
January 1850, at 12 o'clock.

After referring to the history of the previ-
ous voting, he concluded by saying that the
democracy had done their duty, and he was
unwilling to remain longer in a fruitless effort
at organization, and desired to return home to
his constituents and his afflicted family, and
not stay there at the expense of the nation,
until a reasonable time had elapsed, in order
to effect a compromise that might promise an
organization.

Mr. Wentworth made a few remarks and
moved that the House proceed to vote for
Speaker, viva voce. The House then adjourn-
ed to the following day

Tuesday, Dec. 11. The roll was called for
the thirty-third time, and the vote for Mr.
WiNTHROP was 101 ; for William J. Brown,
of Indiana, 80; for Mr. Wilmot, 5 ; for Mr.
Boyd, 15; for Mr. Gentry, 5; for David T.
Disney, of Ohio, 8; for Mr. Cobb, 5; and
five scattering.

The last vote this day was the thirty-ninth,
which gave the following result; lor Mr.
WiNTHROP, 101; for Mr. Brow-n, 109; Mr.
Wilmot, 6 ; Mr. Morehead, of Kentucky,
5 ; Mr. Boyd, 1 ; and four scattering votes.

A motion being made to adjourn, Mr. Win-
throp addressed the clerk, and asked the
unanimous consent of the House to say a few
words before the motion was put. Leave being
granted, he proceeded as follows :

" It is well known, Mr. Clerk, to many of my
political friends on this floor, that I should
long ago have withdrawn my name from this
protracted contest if they would have permit-
ted me to do so. I have thus far, however,
been constantly advised that I was not at lib-
erty to interfere in any way with their action,

1850.]

Congressional Summartj.

103

and that I could not do so without impairing
the best chances of their final success.

I know not how far this opinion may still be
entertained ; but an occasion seems now to
have arisen when it is due to myself as well
as to others that I should say publicly what I
have so often said privately on this subject.
I desire to assure every member of the House
that nothing would give me greater pain than
to have my name stand, for an instant, in the
way of a satisfactory organization of this body.

The highest interests of the country demand
that an organization of some sort should be
effected, and the personal pretensions of no
man should be allowed to prevent such a re-
sult.

I am most deeply sensible of the honor
which has been done me by my friends during
the past week. In the record of their devoted
and unwavering support^ I shall always iind
a subject for the proudest, as well as the most
grateful, recollection.

And I have only to assure them, in conclu-
sion, that if it shall now be found consistent
with their views and feelings to change their
candidate, I shall most cheerfully acquiesce
and co-operate in any nomination which they
may make with better prospects of suc-
cess."

Mr. WiNTHROP having concluded his re-
marks— the question was taken on the motion
to adjourn, and lost. After two or three other
fruitless motions, the House adjourned at half
past four o'clock.

Wednesday^ Dec. 12. Mr. CobB; of Alabama,
made a personal explanation, in which he
thought it necessary to defend himself from a
charge made in the Union that he was a dis-
organizer.

Mr. WiLMOT, of Pennsylvania, rose and
thanked those who had so long sustained him.
Both of the candidates of the two prominent
parties having been withdrawn, he thought
the object for which he and those who had
acted with him contended, had, in a great
measure, been attained, and he therefore de-
clined being any longer considered as as a
candidate. He trusted his friends would now
concentrate their votes on some other gentle-
man, so that an organization of the House
might be effected without longer delay.

After this, the House proceeded to vote for
the fortieth time. The whole number of votes
cast was 226 ; necessary to a choice 114. For
William J. Brown, 112; Duer, 26; More-
head, 17; Stanly, 18; McGauguey, 13;
WiNTHROP, 17; T. Stevens, 2; Rockwell,
1 ; Outlaw, 1 ; H. Mann, 5 ; Vinton, 2 ;
Boyd, 3 ; Julian, 3, and a few scattering.
The free soilers, as a distinct party, had now
broken up, and some voted for Mr. Brown,
while Howe, Root, and Tuck voted for Mr.
Julian, who was dangerously ill at his home in
Indiana.

Mr. Stanly then offered the following re-
solution :

Resolved, That the members of the Demo-
cratic party be requested to appoint three
members, to confer with three members of the
Whig party, relative to the choice of proper
officers of the House of Representatives.

This resolution, said Mr. S. had not origi-
nated with himself, but with a member of the
opposite party of high character and great
experience. He ridiculed the idea that there
was any danger of the total disorganization of
the government from the present condition of
the House. No person or parties could bring
it about with Mr. Clay in the other wing of
the Capitol, and Gen. Taylor in the White
House. He desired to give the democrats the
choice of a speaker, but he wished that they
should choose a gentleman in all respects sat-
isfactory, and who was known by the whole
House to be thoroughly competent to a proper
discharge of the duties of his position. For
himself, having received a number of votes,
he begged to decline the honor, both because
he was too young, and because his temper was
too irascible.

Mr. Bayly of Virginia, replied at consider-
able length. The present posture of the
House he attributed to the equivocal principles
of the President on the subject of slavery. It
was a state of affairs that he had predicted.
The gentleman, said Mr. Bayly, insinuated
that something improper had taken place be-
tween the Democratic party and Free Soilers.
He protested against such insinuations being
lightly made. He flattered himself that the
gentlemen on his side of the house would be
as little likely as any others to enter into an
arrangement with the party referred to. But
the gentleman had enabled him to brand the
rumor as it deserves. It was hardly necessary
for him to say that it had no foundation in
truth.

Mr. AsHMUN interrupted him to inquire if a
correspondence had not taken place between
the member from Indiana [Mr. Brown] and
some members of the Free-Soil party, in which
he has pledged himself to constitute certain
committees in a manner satisfactory to them.
Mr. Bayly knew of no such correspondence.
He inquired if the gentleman had authority for
saying that such was the case. Mr. Ashmun
gave common rumor as his authority. Com-
mon Rumor is a common liar, responded Mr.
Bayly. He appealed to Mr. Brown, who
shook his head. Mr. Bayly then continued
and said he was authorized to say that no
such correspondence had taken place. If
gentlemen of the free-soil party chose to vote
for the democratic candidate, it did not con-
taminate either him or the party supporting
him.

Mr. Root rose to comment on Mr. Stanly's
resolution. There were others in the House

104

Congressional Summary,

[Jan.

besides Whigs and Democrats, with rights as
members not less important and sacred than
theirs; and he would claim them. He pro-
tested against any bargain or agreement by
which the two great parties will secure the or-
ganization of the House to the exclusion of all
or any otliers. Was this resolution designed
to carry out the policy of the two great par-
ties upon tiie free-soil question % If so^ what
is that policy ? As far as he could perceive,
it was but to dodge responsibility.

Mr. Bayly interrupted him to say that he
had just had a conversation with Mr. Brown,
and that he was mistaken in saying that no
correspondence had taken place between him
and the free-soilers. The correspondence will
be produced, and Avill speak for itself.

Mr. Root continued the debate for some
time longer in asserting the rights of the free-
soilers and other small cliques, and seemed to
be delighted at the dilemma in which the
House was placed.

Mr. Brown rose to make a statement. He
acknowledged that he had had both an inter-
view and a correspondence with Mr. Wilmot,
in which he had stated his principles in regard
to slavery. The letters are the following :
"December 10, 1849.
"Dear Sir: In the conversation which I
had with you this evening, j'ou were free to
say that if elected Speaker of the House of
Representatives you would constitute the
Committees on Territories, the Judiciary, and
the District of Columbia, in a manner that
should be satisfactory to myself and the
friends with whom I have had the honor to
act. I have communicated this to my friends ;
and if, in reply to this note, you can give them
the same assurance, they will give you a
cheerful and cordial support.

" Respectfully yours,

"D. Wilmot.''
Hon. Wm. J. Brown.

"Washington City, Dec. 10, 1849.

"Dear Sir: In answer to yours of this
date, I will state that, should I be elected
Speaker of the House of Representatives, I
will constitute the Committees on the District
of Columbia, on Territories, and on the Judi-
ciary, in such manner as shall be satisfactory
to yourself and your friends. I am a repre-
sentative from a free State, and have always
been opposed to the extension of slavery, and
believe that the federal government should be
relieved from the responsibility of slavery
where they have the constitutional power to
abolish it. I am yours, truly,

"W. J. Brown."

Hon. David Wilmot.

Mr. Wilmot confirmed Mr. Brown's state-
ments. He had only desired that the popular
sentiments of all sections of the country should
be permitted to be heard. He merely wanted

able and impartial men, from the South as
well as from the North, on committees charged
with the consideration of slavery questions.

Mr. Stevens of Penn.— I wish to know
from my colleague whether, from his con-
versation, he had reason to believe that the
Committees would be formed of a majority of
those in favor of Free Soil ?

Mr. Wilmot— I had reason to believe that
a majority of the Committees would have had
placed on them a majority of fair Northern
men. [Laughter.] Nothing more ; and that
was an inference I drew from the conversa-
tion.

Mr. Inge — What do you mean by fair North-
ern men ?

Mr. Wilmot — Men who would not act in
Committee from political considerations, or
attachment to party, and especially to the Ad-
ministration, and who would not be asked to
smother the expression of the people of the
North.

Mr. Inge — I understand by fair Northern
men, those committed to the Wilmot Proviso.
Mr. Wilmot — Not by any means.
Mr. Stanly— What then ?
Mr. Wilmot — ^Those who are resolved that
slavery shall go no further. I believe that the
people of the country are oppo.sed to the slave
traffic. Virginia will not tolerate it ; Mary-
land will not tolerate it. Why is it carried
on, in the face of the world, in the District of
Columbia ? I believe the people are opposed
to it.

Mr. Burt said that when Mr. Brown be-
came a prominent candidate, he felt great so-
licitude to ascertain exactly that gentleman's
views upon the exciting topic of the day. He,
as w^ell as other Southern gentlemen, had un-
derstood that Mr. Brown was not a Proviso-
ist — as being uncommitted either for or against
the North or the South. And it was these
considerations that induced him and his south-
ern friends to vote for the gentleman.

]Mr. Bayly stated that it was known that
he had served with ]\Ir. Brown in the 28th
Congress ; and when he began to be spoken
of for Speaker, frequent inquiries were made
of him as to that gentleman's opinions and
votes on the slavery question. He [Mr.
Bayly] answered that no one could have ta-
ken a more unexceptionable course ; and he had
vouched for it that he was opposed to the agi-
tation of the exciting subjects of Abolition
and the Wilmot Proviso in anj- form or .shape.
If he had known of the existence of the cor-
respondence, nothing on earth could have in-
duced him to vote for the gentleman from In-
diana: and he was quite sure that such would
have been the feeling of the great mass of the
members on his side of the House. He had
been quite indignant when the insinuations had
been first made ; but since they had led to a
disclosure to which the country was entitled,

1850.]

Congressio?ial Summary.

105

he was thankful for it ; and he thanked God
that the disclosure had been made in time to
save the party from a load of obloquy.

Several other gentlemen of the South com-
mented on the deception and duplicity that had
been practiced, and were by no means restrain-
ed in their denunciation of Mr. Brown.

Mr. Robinson, of Indiana, defended his
colleague. He could see nothing to justify the
fierce hunting down — nothing that was dis-
honorable or inconsistent with the position he
occupied. It has been a common practice for
candidates to answer questions. It is quite a
new idea that it is dishonorable to do so. It may
be impolitic but certainly not dishonorable.

Mr. Jacob Thompson said that, though
feeling deeply mortified by what had occur-
red, he was glad that the development had
been made.

Mr. DuxHAM, from Indiana, made a very
good defence of his colleague, and attempted
to protect him from the many harsh charges
which had been showered upon him.

The who!e affair, from the moment of the
first explosion to the final shots of the day,
was one of high excitement, and seemed to
have stirred strong passions, which to that
time had been only dreaming of future con-
flicts. The House adjourned without any
further voting.

Thursday, Dec. 13. Mr. Brown, of Mis-
sissippi, offered the following resolution :

Resolved, That Howell Cobb, of Georgia,
is hereby chosen Speaker of the House of Re-
presentatives for the Thirty-First Congress.

A lively debate sprung up on this resolu-
tion, which soon lost sight of the direct pur-
pose, and became between Mr. Meade, of
Virginia, and Mr. Duer, of N. Y., of a per-
sonal and an offensive nature. Mr. Duer,
in the course of some remarks he was making,
avowed his willingness to vote for any one,
whether from the north or the south, except a
disunionist. It was questioned if any such
persons Avere present, when he pointed to Mr.
Meade, who rejoined that the accusation was
false. Mr. Duer is reported to have then
answered Mr. Meade that he was a liar.
ISIuch confusion immediately ensued, and
there was danger for a moment of a resort to
physical arguments. Mr. Duer afterwards
begged pardon of the House for his breach of
decorum, and put it to the members if he could
have done less than he did under the provoca-
tion which had been given. He then said
that he believed the gentleman to be a dis-
unionist. He had read in his speech, that if a
certain state of things continued which the
gentleman said existed, he loathed and detest-
ed the name of the Union.

Mr. McLane declared that the reason why
no election had been effected, was the too
great obstinacy shown in behalf of particular
individuals.

Mr. Toombs thought that the reason why
the House had not been organized was, that it
was ruled by sectional feelings. The gentle-
man from New York, [Mr. Duer,] had said
that he would vote for a democrat, a whig, or
a free-soiler, but he would not vote for a dis-
unionist. Now sir, said Mr. T. I am not
afraid to declare in the presence of the House,
in the presence of the country, and in the pre-
sence of my God, that, if the views and sen-
timents entertained by the gentleman in rela-
tion to slavery, be carried into effect in the
House, then disunion is at hand. [Applause.]
They who attempt these aggressions on the
south, were bringing that very disunion upon
us ; and the curses of heaven would fall,
with all their force, upon those who were the
causes of it. In the solemn and sacred presence
of my God, I declare that if these views are car-
ried out and persisted in, then this union is dis-
solved. [Applause.] The southerner, said
Mr. T. have been charged with ever)^ crime in
the decalogue, and taunted about the sin of
domestic slavery. He would ask the men of
the south what they wanted with organiza-
tion, if they were not permitted to carry
slaves into the Territories ? If this state of
things continued, he would declare without
hesitation that he would be in favor of dis-
union. Let the south alone, let the district
alone. Give to the south their portion of the
Territory. Until all this was done, he trust-
ed discord would reign — forever.

Mr. Baker, in the course of some remarks,
denied that the people of the north, by advo-
cating the principles of the Wilmot Proviso,
could be justly charged with advocating prin-
ciples that Avould lead to disunion. The
threats of gentlemen are idle. The Union
would not be dissolved.

Mr. Wallace. We'll teach you.

JMr. Baker. How are you to teach us T

Mr. Wallace. Let slavery be abolished
in this District, or the south be excluded from
the Territories, and we will show you that we
mean what we say.

Mr. Baker still did not believe there was a
man in the House who thought in his heart
or his head, that the hand would ever be rais-
ed with power sufficient to destroy this
Union.

Mr. Stephens, of Georgia, was sorry to
say that he and the people in the section of
the country that he represented, now consid-
ed that the day when the compact was to be
rended was near at hand. Every word of
Mr. Toombs met with his hearty concurrence.
Do gentlemen, by uttering poeans to the Union
think it can thus be preserved % If so, they
are mistaken. If the day of the dissolution
of this Union is at hand, it is as well now as
hereafter.

Mr. CoLCOCK followed in the same menacing
tone. Let Congress, said he, pass a bill to

106

Congressional Summary.

[Jan.

abolish slavery in the District of Columbia,
or pass the Wilmot Proviso, and he pledged
himself to introduce a resolution in these
words : Resolved, That the Union be dissolved.

Mr. Baker. But we will pass one that it
shall not be dissolved. [Laughter.]

Mr. CoLcocK. Thus the south would show
to the north that we are in earnest. South
Carolina, Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi
are all ready to vote for it.

Mr. HiLLiARD would tell gentlemen, calmly
and deliberately, that there never was such
feeling on this subject at the South as exists
now. I tell gentlemen that if they pass the
Wilmot Proviso the best friends of this Union
must part. It was no part of his purpose to
calculate the value of the Union ; that could
not be conceived. But once let it be dissolved,
and when and how can it be bound together
again I He would say to gentlemen from the
North and South, that if the Wilmot Proviso
be passed by both Houses of Congress, then
the Union must be dissolved.

Mr. Conrad of Louisiana, deprecated the
discussion. He considered it ill-timed, prema-
ture, and could be productive of no good; but
it might of much evil. He wished, with Mr.
DuER, to adjourn over for a day to deliberate.

Mr. Marshall of Kentucky, was astonish-
ed to hear the dissolution of the Union agi-
tated to-day. He was in favor of a gentleman
for Speaker who did not represent any extreme,
and he trusted that all distracting questions
would be laid aside, and that the members
would apply themselves to the public good.

Mr. Thompson, of Pennsylvania, then pro-
posed, by resolution, that the House should pro-
ceed to vote by ballot for Speaker, and conti-
nue so to vote until 4 o'clock, unless a Speaker
should be sooner elected.

Mr. Carter offered the following resolution
as an amendment to that ot Mr. Brown :

Resolved, That any person who may be
elected Speaker of this House shall be divest-
ed of the power to construct the District and
Territorial Committees, and that the same
shall be made by a vote of the House.

These resolutions, after undergoing consi-
derable discussion, were dropped.

The House then proceeded to vote for the
forty-first time. The vote for Mr. Winthrop
was 59 ; for Mr. Cobb, of Georgia, 40 ; Lynn
Boyd, of Kentucky, 26 ; Emery D. Potter,
of Ohio, 24; Edwin Stanly, of N. C, 21;
Charles S. Morehead, 10; Thomas. H.
Bayly, of Va., 6; Mr. Wilmot, 4 ; Thad-
DEUS Stevens, of Pa., 4; Edward Mc-
Gaughey, of Ind., 3 ; Mr. McLane, of
Maryland, 2 ; Mr. Schenck, of Ohio, 2 ; Mr.
McDowell, of Va., 2 ; Willis A. Gorman,
of la., 2; George W. Julian, of la., 2;
Henry W. Hilliard, of Alabama, 2 ; John
McClernand, of Illinois, 2; and 13 single
votes for different individuals. There being

no election, at half-past four o'clock the House
adjourned.

Friday Bee. 14. Mr. Ashmun proposed
that the House should proceed to the election
of a Speaker viva voce, and if, on the iirst call
of the roll, no person should receive a major-
ity of the votes, the roll should again be call-
ed, and the person who should receive the
highest number of votes, provided it be not
less than one third of the whole, shall be de-
clared elected.

Mr. Woodward proposed that Lynn Boyd
should be chosen Speaker pro tempore, and
that on his assuming the chair, the House
should proceed to the election of its other offi-
cers, after which it should renew its attempts
to elect a Speaker. This resolution was of-
fered, because the House was in the process
of becoming a mob, and there was no one to
enforce order. The door-keeper and sergeant-
at-arms would never be in more demand than
at present. It was indispensable to commence
an organization.

Mr. Williams acknowledged the necessity
of a speedy organization. If an organization
was to be effected only by riding rough-shod
over a certain little party, he was willing to
take the responsibility. He then proposed
another method of speedily putting an end to
the voting.

Mr. Root protested against every project,
and considered them as iron rules — boots and
thumb-screws. They were all intended to gag
those of ardent, glowing sentiment, who were
determined that slavery shall not be extended
farther.

Mr. Johnson, of Tenn., commenced an at-
tack on Mr. Winthrop for the partial man-
ner in which he had appointed the Commit-
tees while Speaker. He accused him of
being a Wilmot Provisoist in a mask, and in-
dulged in a long speech touching a great va-
riety of subjects. He went on to say that his
heart had swelled with pride and exultation
the day before, when he heard the remarks of
Mr. Hilliard, Mr. Toombs, and Mr. Ste-
phens, and saw them lay aside all other con-
siderations, and rush to the rescue of the
South.

Mr. Clingman said that North Carolina
was now quiet, leaving other states to speak,
but when the time for action came, no state
would be more ready than that. He knew no-
thing in the remarks of Mr. Toombs to which
he did not assent. He was more than grati-
fied with the remarks of the other gentleman
trom Georgia [Mr. Stephens]. As to the
Speakership, he had voted for Mr. Winthrop
as a matter of personal preference. Several
other gentlemen participated in the discussion ;
at length Mr. Venables moved to lay the
whole subject on the table, and on taking the
question it was thus disposed of.

A resolution offered by Mr. Dimmick was

1850.]

Congressio7ial Swnmary.

107

adopted, that the House proceed to the elec-
tion of a Speaker and continue its efforts
without debate from any member, until an
election be effected.

The House then voted the forty-sacond time
with the following result: — Winthrop, 36;
McLane, 8 : WiLMOT, 6 ; Hilliard, 3 ;
Stanly, 30;' H. Cobb, 18; Duer, 5; Mc-
Gaughey, 3; Boyd, 51; Potter, 24; More-
head, 9 ; Outlaw, 2 ; McDowell, 5 ; Vin-
ton, 2; and 15 scattering. There was no
choice.

Mr. McLean, of Ky., offered a resolution
by which the election should be effected through
a plurality of votes. It was laid on the table.

The forty-fourth vote, being the last this

day, showed the following result : Winthrop
27 ; Potter, 22 ; Wilmot, 6 ; Hilliard, 1
Stanly, 49; Boyd, 82; Stevens, 12
Strong, 2 ; Outlaw, 2 ; Morehead, 6
Duer, 3, and 9 scattering.

Mr. Hackett proposed by resolution that
no member should receive any per diem allow-
ance until a speaker was elected ; and Mr.
Jones, of Tenn., gave notice that he would
move to amend by adding, "and that no mem-
ber shall receive any mileage, unless a speaker
be elected to morrow." The resolution an
swered its purpose — produced much laughter
and was then laid on the table. The House
adjourned.

108

Critical Notices.

[Jan.

CRITICAL NOTICES.

Mahomet and his Successors. By Washington
■ Irving. New York: George P. Putnam,
155 Broadway. 1850.

"■ Most of the particulars of this life of Ma-
homet," says the author, "were drawn from
Spanish sources, and from Gagnier's transla-
tion of the Arabian history of Abulfeda, a
copy of which the author found in the Jesuits
library of St. Isidro, at Madrid."

It was intended for the family library ol
Mr. John Murray, but was thrown aside un-
finished. It is now presented to the public re-
vised, and with valuable additions from vari-
ous writers. The reader will be interested in
comparing the different handling of this popu-
lar and romantic biography by writers so oppo-
sed in style and sentiment as are Carlyle, Gib-
bon, and Irving.

The War with Mexico. By R. S. Ripley,
Brevet Major, &c. in the U. S. Army. 2
vols. New York : Harper & Bros. 1849.

A very full political and military history of
the late war, with plans of battles. The au-
thor in his preface claims to have had a per-
sonal acquaintance with the country on both
of the principal routes of operation, an inti-
mate acquaintance with many American of-
ficers, and some intercourse with those of the
Mexican army. Various official reports and
publications have been consulted, and every
care taken to give a permanent value to the
history.

Review of the Mexican War, embracing the
causes of the war, the responsibility of its
commencement, the purposes of the Amer-
ican government in its prosecution, its ben-
efits, and its evils. By Charles T. Porter.
Auburn, N. Y : Alden & Parsons. 1849.

This work professes to be written without
any political purpose. It contains no allusions
to political parties, says the author ; it is no
part of its object to inquire what share be-
longs to each, of the glory or the shame of
this war. The subject of slavery is avoided.
That the extension of slavery was the object
of the war is denied by the author. He con-

ceives that the lust for territory and of empire
was the true and proper cause of the war, and
that the south and the north must share equal-
ly in its responsibility. He defends the inde-
pendence of Texas before annexation. On the
other hand, he considers that the movement of
the army to the Rio Grande was a violation
of the rights of Mexico, and that this advance,
being an overt act of hostility, throws the
blame of beginning the war upon the Amer-
ican people. The war was designed, he al-
leges, to be commenced in such a manner as
to^cast the odium of it on Mexico. The au-
thor is a friend of peace, and his endeavor is
to set forth the rights and duties of nations
among themselves.

The Miscellaneous Works of Oliver Goldsmith,
including a variety of pieces now first col-
lected. By James Prior, author of the
Life of Burke, Life of Goldsmith, &c. Sic.
In 4 vols. 8vo. New York : G. P. Put-
nam. 1850.

An excellent and complete collection of the
works of Goldsmith, beautifully printed— an
edition very suitable for circulating libraries.

Noel on Christian Baptism. New York : Har-
per & Bros. 1850.

Baptist N. Noel is at present reputed the
most powerful and valuable writer in England
of the evangelical school. The volume be-
fore us is a small 8vo, got up in cheap and
popular style. It is simply a defence of bap-
tism as the initiatory rite of Christian life,
supported by suitable texts of Scripture.

The Tivclve Stars of our Republic ; Our Na-
tion's Gift Book to her Young Citizens. New
York : E. Walker. 1850.

This work is simply a collection of the bi-
ographies of the twelve Presidents of the
United States, with excellent portraits, beauti-
fully engraved on steel. It contains also se-
veral valuable historical papers, a synopsis
of the constitution of each state, a summary jj

1850.]

Critical Notices*

109

of the census for 1840, and a chronology of
American History, &c. &c. The illustrated
title page, and the frontispiece add much to
the elegance of the volume. The publisher
has an extraordinary knack at making hand-
some books.

The Four Gospels, Arranged as a Practical
Family Commentary for Every Day in the
Year. By the author of the " Peep of Day."
Edited, with an introductory preface, by
Stephen H. Tyng, D.D., Rector of St.
George's Church, N. Y. New York: D.
Appleton & Co. 1850.

The twelve steel-plate engravings which il-
lustrate this work, are in general very excel-
lently done, and the volume itself is a beauti-
ful sift book for the season.

Chalmer's Posthumous Works, Vol. VIII. In-
stitues of Theology. New York : Harper
& Bros. 1850.

The Practical German Grammar, or a Natural
method of learning to read, write, and
speak the German language. By Charles
EicHHORN. New York : D. Appleton &
Co. 1850.

The u'orks of J. Fenimore Cooper. — The Pilot.
A tale of the sea. A new edition, revised
by the author. New York : G. P. Putnam.
1850.

Heaven's Antidote to the Curse of Labor : or
the Temporal Advantages of the Sabbath
considered in relation to the working class-
es. By Adam Quinton. With a prefato-
ry notice, by the Rev. S. H. Tyng, D.D.

In 1847, an English gentleman, lamenting the
increasing desecration of the Sabbath, and its
injurious effects upon the health and morals
of the working classes, offered three prizes,
of twenty-five, fifteen, and ten pounds, for the
three best essays on the temporal advantages
of the Sabbath to the laboring classes. In
three months he received 1,045 essays. The
committee of adjudication state that they
were occupied in the examination of this mass
of manuscript, from the close of March un-
til the close of December, 1848. The prizes

were awarded to three authors — John Quin-
ton, (journeyman printer,) John Younger,
(shoemaker,) and David Farquhar, (machinist.)
The work before us by John Quinton, is evi-
dently from the hand of an experienced wri-
ter, and a wise and judicious moralist. As
far as we can judge from a cursory examina-
tion, it deserves the attention of all classes,
and no Sunday school or circulating library
will be complete without a copy of it._^

Visions and Voices. By James Staunton
Babcock. With a Biographical Sketch of
the Author. Hartford : Etlwin Hunt : New
York: Baker & Scribner. 1849.

The late James S. Babcock, whose remains
are collected in this volume, graduated at Yale
College in the class of Mr. Colton, former ed-
itor of this Review. Mr. Babcock was one
of the most remarkable English scholars that
have graduated at that College. "The quali-
ties of his poems are peculiar. They are
built somewhat upon antique models, and
seem also to have been affected in a measure
by the author's German studies ; but their em-
inent simplicity and truthfulness will com-
mand attention in an age whose poetry, like
its social morality, is growing to be artificial,
shallow, and false in sentiment. — G. C. C."

A Copious and Critical English-Latin Lexi-
con. Founded on the German-Latin Dic-
tionary of Dr. C. E. Georges. By the Rev.
J. E. Riddle, M. A., and the Rev. Thomas
Kerchever Arnold, M. A. First Ame-
rican edition. By Charles Anthon
L.L.D. New York : Harper & Brothers.
1849.

This is a royal 8vo. Dictionary, for the use
of scholars and students who are composing in
the Latin Language. An index of proper
names for the same purpose is appended, and
the volume needs nothing that we can discover
but a well digested Dictionary of Latin Syno-
nims, idioms, and phrases, which require to be
treated apart for the greater convenience of
the scholar, to make it complete. As it is, it
is perhaps an indispensable aid.

Somerville^s Physical Geography.
phia: Lea & Blanchard. 1850.

Philadel-

A second American edition of a very cele-
brated work. We have already noticed a
previous edition. It is printed in the form of

Critical Notices.

[Jan.

a class book, and has a glossary of scientific
terms.

Essays upon Authors and Books. By W.
Alfred Jones. New York: Stanford &
Swords. 1849.

This is a well written volume of Critical Es-
says upon several authors of our own country
and of England. Mr. Jones is too well-known
as a writer in this country to need any further
notice at our hands.

The Western World; or Travels in the United
States in 1846-47, including a chapter on
California. By Alexander Mackay, Esq.
Philadelphia : Lea & Blanchard. 1849.

This work is dedicated to Richard Cobden,
Esq., M. P., by the author. It seems to be a
fair and liberal account of manners and things
in America — political, moral, and social.

Glimpses of Spain ; or Notes of an unfinished
Tour in 1847. By S. T. WALLrs. New
York: Harper and Brothers. 1849.

Opening this volume at random, we light
upon a description of a bull fight at Madrid,
very entertaining. As it is not fair nor just to
criticise a book of travels before reading it, we
will only say, after a very slight examination
amounting to the reading of a few paragraphs
and the table of contents, that if we were this
evening to start o& on a journey, we should put
the volume in a side pocket to read by the way.

St. Leger ; or the Threads of Life. New
_^York : G. P. Putnam. 1850.

"At the age of twenty-three years I find
myself upon the threshold of two worlds. The
Past summons the thousand incidents which
have operated to determine me as a responsi-
ble being, and presents them before me, with
fearful vividness. The Present seems like
nothing beneath my feet. And the Future,
no longer a shadowy dream, throws open its
endless vista, and whispers that I must soon
enter upon all its untried, unknown realities.
Here I am permitted to pause a moment, ere I
commence upon that new existence which ends
only with the Infinite.

I have finished my life upon earth. The
ties which connect me Mnth the world have
parted. I have to do now only with eternity.

Yet something which I may not resist, impels
me to retrospection. I look back over my
short pilgrimage, and feel a yearning which I
cannot restrain, to put down a narrative of my
brief existence, and to mark the several
changes which have come over my spirit, in
the hope that the young, with whom I chiefly
sympathize, may profit by the recital.

But what will this avail to youthful spirits,
flushed with the glow of health, secure in
their fancied strength, determined on enjoy-
ment ? To them the world is every thing.
Alas, they know not that the world will re-
ward them with infamy, if they trust alone to
it ' Yet it is to such I make my appeal. I
would arrest them, before they cease to
have sympathy with every saving influence,
because of their habitual opposition to it.

But I will not anticipate the moral of my
life. Let this be gathered from the record of
it." — Preface to the work.

Iconographic Encyclopedia of Science. Litera-
ture, and Art, systematically arranged.
By G. Heck : with 500 steel engravings, by
the most distinguished artists of Germany.
The text translated and edited by Spencer
F. Baird, a. M., M. D., Professor of Nat-
ural science in Dickinson College, Carlisle,
Pa. New York : Rudolph Garrigue, Pub-
lisher, No. 2 Barclay street.

The title of this work is its own description.
The engravings represent machinery, speci-
mens of natural history, chemical apparatus,
astronomical and optical apparatus, illustra-
tions of geography, astronomy, &c., &c. —
They are beautifully executed on steel, in a
style never before seen in this country. How
it is possible for the publisher to offer this
work at the low price of one dollar the num-
ber, is a mystery. It is the mo.st perfect se-
ries extant of encyclopedic engraving. The
letter press is in the 8vo. form, to be bound up
separately. We have before us three numbers
of the work, which is to be issued in twenty-
five monthly parts, containing twenty plates and
eighty pages of letter press each. Complete
indexes and tables of contents will be publish-
ed with the last numbers, adapting the work
to practical use. Nothing can be said of this
work more than that it fulfils the promise of
its title page.

Poor Richard^s Almanac. J. Doggett, Jr., 64
Liberty street. 1850.

This is a reprint of the famous and popular
"Poor Richard's Almanac" of Benjamin
Franklin, for the years 1733-34-35. The as-

1850.]

Critical Notices.

Ill

tronomical calculations are by Professor Ben-
jamin Peirce, of Harvard University. Frank-
Jin's Life, by himself, is commenced in this
first number, to be completed in the succeeding
years. " The present is, doubtless, the only
complete edition of the ' Poor Richard's Al-
manac' of Dr. Franklin now in existence.
The collection is the result of nearly four
5'ears research among the libraries of public
institutions and private collections in the
states of New Hampshire, Vermont, Massa-
chusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, New
York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania; and
several of the numbers were only procureable
at great cost, and even some were purchased
with the proviso that they were to be returned,
should the publisher to be successful in ob-
taining duplicates. A complete copy of the
Almanac had been pronounced by our indefa-
tigable historian, Jared Parks, as of doubtful
existence ; and the publisher is, therefore,
most agreeably disappointed in being able to
lay successively before the American public
the entire numbers of this invaluable series,
accompanied by an appropriate modern calen-
dar."— Preface.

The Odd Felloius' Offering. New York : E.
Walker. 1850.

We have seen but few of the annuals of the
season, and this, we think, the best we have
seen. We commend it not only to the large
and respectable body for whom it is especial[y
intended, and from whom its contributions
chiefly come, but to others. The subjects are
neither sentimental nor trivial; and this re-
mark, strange as it may appear, applies as well
to the engravings as the literature of the
book. There are several fine reproductions
of Martin's sublime pictures.

Wandering Sketches of People and things in
South America, Polynesia. California, and
other places. By Wm. Maxwell Wood, M. D.
Surgeon, &c. Philadelphia : Carey & Hart.

A very entertaining book ; had we space we
should quote the description of a bull-bait in
Lima, which strikes us as one of the best
things of the kind we have read.

Popular Library of Instruction and Amuse-
ment. Illustrated by J. G. Chapman. E.
Dunigan & Bro. : New York.

Such as we have seen of these beautiful
little books are from the German of Christian

Schmidt, and are some of the very best stories for
children extant. Schmidt is famous as a writer
for children over the entire continent of Eu-
rope ; and no wonder ; for his beautiful me-
thod of instilling religion into the minds of
the young without cant or dogmatism, is
wortliy of all praise. Chapman's illustrations
are gems.

Tales of Flemish Life. Translated from the
Flemish of Hendrick Conscience. Edited
by Anna C. Lynch.

This is another admirable book for children.
By the same publishers.

The Crocus. A
Edited by Mrs
gan & Brother

fresh flower for the Holidays.
s. Hale. New York : Duni-

This beautiful little gift book is composed of
some of the above stoiies and a sprinkling of
appropriate poetry. The illustrations of
Chapman will improve any eye.

Hearts and Homes.
pleton & Co.

By Mrs. Ellis. D. Ap-

This last is said to be the best production o^
Mrs. Ellis. She is celebrated as a writer on
the morals of domestic life.

TTie Neighbors. By Miss Bremer.
G. P. Putnam.

N. Y.

A work so well known we need not com-
mend. Even the multitude who have read it
in the shabby editions heretofore printed here,
will gladly enrich their libraries with it in this
beautiful form. The celebrated authoress has
prefixed a preface to this edition which will be
read with great interest.

Shirley; A Tale.
of Jane Eyre.
Brothers.

By CuRRER Bell, author
New York: Harper &

There has probably no book appeared in
modern times of this class, that produced so
great a " sensation" and was so much discu-ss-
ed as this authors previous work, Jane Eyre.
As we have not .space to analyze, we can only
say, that the present work is also a very re-
markable one; in some respects superior to

112

Critical Notices.

[Jan. 1850.

the former. The narrative is not so interest-
ing, but the characterization is of a higher or-
der, or rather of greater power. The writer
in this book has wisely avoided a plot involv-
ing difficult questions of moral casuistry, but
she has not succeeded in making a very inter-
esting one. There is, however, ample com-
pensation for the narrative, in the remarkable
power with which the numerous characters
are drawn. So much is this faculty the forte
of the author, that she draws characters, as it
were, on a separate canvass, and pastes them
on her picture ; for, surely, the " three curates'"
are of no more earthly use to the plot than
they are of heavenly to their parishes ; and so,
if not otherwise, from their not blending with
the perspective of the painting, they appear as
mere caricatures. " They come like spirits
1^0 depart."

American Historical Tales for Youth.
York : D. Appleton & Co.

NCAV

This is a very happily designed little book,
and we can Itighly commend the execu-
tion. It is a commendable thing to blend
amusement with instruction, when it can be
so legitimately done.

Alfred the Great. By Jacob Abbot. New
York : Harper & Brothers. 1850.

These popular Biographies of the great his-
torical characters, we have on several occa-
sions spoken highly of. They are as beauti-
ful in this form of '^ fitting up," as they are
admirable in the literary execution.

Fairy Talcs from all Nations. By Anthony
R. MoNTALBA. With twenty-four illustra-
tions by Richard Doyle. Harper & Broth-
ers.

We confess to laying hold of a book of this
kind with almost as much interest as a child,
and to have thus brought together the strange
imaginings of so many nations, gives a philo-
sophical excuse for the indulgence of our fancy
that would lead us into a disquisition had w^e
|ime and room. , .

Greemvood. A Directory to Visitors.
A. Cleveland.

We have, in this splendidly printed and il-
lustrated volume, a worthy companion to a
visit to the beautiful cemetry it illustrates and
describes. The execution of the work is in
every respect admirable.

Saroni''s Musical Times.
& Co., 251 Broadway.

New York : Saroni

The thirteenth weekly number of this ex-
cellent musical journal is before us. The en-
terprise is conducted by the editor, Mr. Her-
man S. Saroni, with a becoming spirit and
independence. The criticisms of concerts and
new music are clear and free from pedantry,
and show a thorough knowledge of the sub-
ject, and a taste equally cultivated and suited
to the age and the day. Without any scien*
tific knowledge of music, we are able to speak
well of this publication, and to say what we
have said of it with confidence. Although
it is not always necessary to be a musician to
judge whether another person is so or not,
(the arts being not merely for those w'.i cul-
tivate them scientifically, but for those also
who only enjoy their effects,) it must we think,
be conceded that a public critic of music*
ought to have a thorough knowledge of it.
Mr. Saroni's qualifications in this respect are
understood to be of a high order. In other
respects the Musical Times is creditably, not
to say skillfully conducted. Each number,
besides the editorial and critical department,
which is always entertaining to persons
interested in the movements of the musical
world, contains a diversity of matter, tales,
anecdotes, essays, and notices of pictures
and picture galleries, &c., selected, not at
random, but with a view always to the in-
terests of art and artists. In addition to the
letter press, itself well worth the subscription
{$2 per annum), the subscribers receive a se-
lection of the best music of the great compo-
sers, printed for the journal. These sheets
bound up together at the end of the year will
make a volume of choice music, a great deal
of it not to be found published elsewhere.

The Musical Times has already become
popular in New York and elsewhere. Its
patronage is rapidly increasing. We wish
every success to the enterprise.

JJez'zotiiitea "by P.MrWielpley — Dag,P''l>yBrady-Etchea &. Strppled "br S ."V. Hunt

/ C

THE

AMERICAN EEYIEW,

No. XXVI.

FOR FEBRUARY, 1850

REPORT OF THE SECRETARY OF THE TREASURY.

The Report of the Secretary of the
Treasury is a document which confirms
the judgment of President Taylor in the
relection of that officer. Mr. Meredith
has done equal honor to himself and the
Administration by the use which he has
made of the power entrusted to him. The
document which he has prepared is not
only a statement of the financial condition
of the country, but embraces also a thor-
ough refutation of the dogmas of free-
trade put forth by his predecessor, Mr.
Walker. We here present our readers
with a re-statement or summary of its
most important facts and positions, attend-
ed by such a commentary upon each and
upon the whole as may arise on the sug-
gestion of the moment.

The receipts for the fiscal year ending
July, 1849, were $59,663,097 50, which,
estimating the population of the country
at 21,000,000, gives somewhat less than
$2 37 a head, of expenses, for the sup-
port of the most powerful, stable, and
efficient government in existence.

Of this sum, nearly one-half, or more
than $28,000,000, was collected by du-
ties on foreign goods ; so that each indi-
vidual in the country would have been
taxed about $1 33 for the use of foreign
commodities, had the use of those com-
modities bee equally distributed.

An equal distribution of this tax over
the entire property of the country, would
be equivalent to a bonus of 28 millions to
those persons who use foreign commodities.

VOL. V. NO. II. NEW SERIES.

It is only those who insist upon using a for-
eign commodity, or luxury, who contribute
thereby to the public treasury. Thus it
comes to pass, that taxation for the general
government is thrown in a great measure
upon those who live expensively, who are
obliged to contribute a larger proportion
of taxes than those who use homespun.

The estimated receipts and expenditures
for the fiscal year ending June 30th, 1850,
are from customs $31,500,000. Adding
those from various other sources, includinor
public lands, balance in treasury, &c., and
the total available means for the year, as
estimated, will be rather more than $37,-
800,000.

The expenditure, on the other hand, is
estimated at more than $43,600,000, leav-
ing a deficit of about $5,800,000. We
refrain from giving the exact numbers, as
they are unimportant in a general view.

Besides the cheapness of collecting a
revenue at a few points, by customs, the
system has this great advantage, that it
limits the patronage of the general govern-
ment to a few places. The post-office
patronage, employed as a political engine,
by reason of its extension into every vil-
lage of the continent, would prove incom-
parably more powerful than that of a few
custom-houses in a few cities on the coast.
What use, then, might not be made of a
system of coUectorships distributed through
the interior, and made personally ope-
rative and efficient in every village. From
this point of view we can easily penetrate

114

Secretary's Report,

[Feb.

a part of the design of those democratic
politiciansiwho advocate the abolition of
the customs and the collection of revenue
by direct taxation.

The civil and foreign-intercourse list, is
brought within $10,000,000 for the three
last quarters of the year. That is to say, the
salaries of the government functionaries,
and foreign agents and embassadors, of a
nation of 21,000,000, is somewhere about
5 1-4 cents per month, for each individual.
A nation which pays so little for its govern-
ment officers, may justly boast of the econ-
omy of its government.

It will be seen, by consulting the tables
given in the report, and which are sub-
joined, that the estimates for the present
fiscal year are less in sum, and diilerent in
character, from those for the year follow-
ing. Our limits forbid the review of par-
ticulars.

A people who pay so little for the sup-
port of their government, cannot, with
propriety or decency, allow it to run in
debt. That a public debt should exist at
all, is a slur upon our institutions. We
find, however, that in its extreme solicitude
to avoid the imposition of specific duties,
and notwithstanding its afibcted preference
of direct taxation, the party lately in office
suffered the national liabilities to mount
up to the enormous sum of $64,704,693 ;
twice the entire annual expenditure of the
government on a peace establishment.

Let us, for a moment, hold up to con-
templation this system of public debts, and
observe its workings. The private ad-
venturer in trade who borrows money on
interest, does so with the expectation of
realizing much more than that interest.
He borrows at 10 per cent., expecting to
realize 20 or 30 per cent., besides sinking
nothing of the original capital.

When government, on the other hand,
"becomes a debtor, it does so without any
certainty of turning what it has borrowed
to a profitable account. The money bor-
rowed, is converted into cannon, soldiers'
clothing, or ships of war, or it is con-
sumed in the general expenses of the na-
tion. These expenses are indeed neces-
sary, and must be provided for ; what we
have now to consider is the method and
economy of the provision.

The government, we will say, has bor-
rowed $1,000, to be repaid in 20 years.

The interest is 5 per cent. The tax-
payers must pay each year $50 of interest,
and at the end of twenty years, they
must refund the money borrowed. They
have then paid tivo thousand for one thou-
sand. Whereas, if the necessary funds had
been got directly through customs, or by any
method of taxation, at the time when they
were wanted, they would have had to pay
only $1,000. If a war is to cost 50
millions, it will be made, by borrowing the
funds, to cost 100 millions.

The money borrowed by government is
not put into a manufactory, or a farm, or
a canal, there to re-produce and continu-
ally multiply itself ; it is cast into the sea,
shot away out of the mouths of cannon,
and eaten up and worn out, the very year
in which it is borrowed. Had it been bor-
rowed for some project of improvement,
there would have been less objection ;
for in that case it continues to be a pro-
ductive capital, and is not withdrawn from
the business of the country. The tax-
payers will freely pay double for that which
has doubled in value. But it is a severe
trial of patience to be obliged to pay dou-
ble for a vicious expenditure of war, twenty
years after it had become thoroughly odious
to the world. Twenty years ago a piece
of ordnance was taken from New York
to Vera Cruz, and cost, in all, a thousand
dollars. We have already paid the full
price of the vile thing in taxes for the
support of the five per cent, stocks, and
now, we have the entire price to pay over
again to lefund the principal. We should
with much greater cheerfulness, have
paid the full taxes when the money
was wanted, and now it is not only in-
trinsically a more odious imposition, but
it has doubled in amount. Giving up,
however, all invidious distinctions between
one public enterprise and another, it is evi-
dent that the system of raising money
as it is needed, is far better ; and at
least one-half as expensive, as the system
of loans.

It will be offered, as an objection to the
above, that when government borrows a
sum of money, it suffers an equal sum to
lie, in the shape of uncollected taxes, in
the hands of the tax-payers, and that these
tax-payers will readily pay the five per
cent, to be allowed to retain their money :
that the capitalist, in effect, loans it to the

1850.]

Secretary's Report,

115

tax-payers, through the agency of govern-
ment : that if the 'Rothschilds, for in-
stance, lend the goverment a milliou at 5
per cent, they have lent it to the tax-pay-
ers, who ought to consider it a very advan-
tageous loan. But if the tax-payers are
the borrowers, they are, by the same rule,
the expenders of the money. Whether the
transaction is a good one, or not, depends
upon the manner in which the money is
expended. If it is well employed by the
government, in such enterprises as will
yield a fair return to the public ; it can-
not be set down as a loss. The capital-
ists, in that case, have invested their
money in a national enterprise, for which
the people pay them interest, and neither
party are the losers.

If the national wealth is increasing at
the rate of 5 per cent, per annum, or more,
by the general and distributed industry of
all the tax -payers, other things being equal,
they will not find it a disadvantage to bor-
row money at 5 per cent. If, on the con-
trary, the body of the nation is not increas-
ing its substance at that rate, it will be a
loser by such a bargain.

The most serious objection to a national
debt is, however, that it facilitates the em-
ployment of capital, by government, in un-
just and unprofitable projects. Capitalists
are eager to lend. Ambitious and unjust
governments are eager to borrow. The tax-
payers are unthinking and ignorant. The
consequences are, a dreadful waste of the
substance of the nation. When govern-
ments refuse to borrow, capital is thrown
into manufactures, commerce, agriculture,
and other forms of industry. In these it
increases rapidly, and with it increases the
ability of the nation to pay such taxes as
may be necessary at the time when they are
needed.

It matters not what may have been the
nature of the enterprise, the lender must
have back his money. Had he invested it
himself, he would have been responsible
for his own losses ; but, for public loans,
the tax-payers are responsible. One party
manages the enterprise, (a war, for exam-
ple,) and another is responsible for the cost.
The great secret of economical government
will then be, to bring the opinion of the tax-
payer to hear directly upon the project it-
self; and hy maJcing the payment follow
instantly upon the adoption of the project^

(as in the case of a war,) to load the tax-
payer (i. e. voter) himself with the re-
sponsibility of the things as in a private
speculation. This policy would not only
prevent all engagements in unnecessary and
unjust wars, by keeping the conscience of
the people in harmony with their pecuniary
interests, (a sure means of making men
honest and considerate,) but it would lead
them to invest the public money in such
projects as would reimburse the nation for
its expenses. The democratic party main-
tain a speculative opposition to funded
national debts. Were they to maintain,
what they dare not do, a direct opposition,
they would probably not have been able to
force duty-payers into a support of the
Mexican war.

Another and highly important objection
to a system of public debt, even when we sup-
pose the money to have been justly and pro-
fitably employed, and to the advantage of the
nation, is that it converts the government
itself into a monied corporation, employing
a prodigious capital for such purposes as
it may see fit. The accumulated earnings
of thousands of indi\T.duals are thrown into
its hands, to be employed at its discretion.
The G-overnment of England is a monied
corporation, which has sunk its capital,
and taxes the people to pay interest on the
money it has lost, and which yields it
nothing. Thus, instead of being the agent
and representative of the popular will, and
the national industry, it has become an irre-
sponsible corporation, with the right of
raising funds by force. This is the effect
of keeping the tax-payer separated from
the government by the intervention of an
unlimited credit system.

A principal objection to the of late very
democratic system of contracting public
debts is, that the loaning of great masses
of property, to government, deprives the
tax-payers of a double advantage ; first,
that of having a capital, created out
of small and scattered sums, employed for
the general good ; and, second, the use, to
a great extent, of the concentrated means
of capitalists.

A million of poor tax-payers pay a dol-
lar each into the pubUc treasury. Let us
suppose that the money is justly applied
for their defence, and for the assistance of
their industry, by the government. A
good government is almost the creator of

116

Secretary's Report.

[Feb.

national industry. The dollar they have
each paid in, well employed by their rep-
resentative agents, will enable them all to
increase their little wealth, some once,
some twice, and some an hundred fold. At
the same time, the capitalist, unable to
make the government his debtor, is com-
pelled to employ the million he would have
lent, in industiial projects for his own and
their advantage, realizing for them and for
himself a much larger return, than if he
had lent it ; though, indeed, with greater
labor. It is better, therefore, to pay a
dollar to-day, than two dollars twenty
years hence, inasmuch as we thereby en-
joy in addition to the benefits of a good
and wealthy government, devoted to the
protection of industry, the employment of-
fered by the capitalist whose money must
now be directed upon private enterprises.

We do not mean, by these arguments,
to impress the idea, that we have already
incurred a great and immediate danger, by
the increase of the national liabilities.
The commerce of the nation is, doubtless,
fully equal, under an equitable system of
specific duties, to cancel, by degrees, all our
obligations. We would not even propose
a sudden and violent change of policy, in re-
gard to the contraction of debt. We desire
only the gradual payment, not by any delus-
ive system of a sinking fund, which, like a
spend-thriffs reservation, puts conscience
asleep ; but by a method, first, of economi-
cal administration, and, second, of direct
appropriations, of which the people will see
the merit, and feel the force.

On the 1st of July, 1850, by the e.sti-
niate of Mr Meredith, there will be a de-
ficit of nearly six millions, for which no
provision has been made. On the 1st of
July, 1851, there will be a deficit of more
than ten and a half millions — the total de-
ficit exceeding sixteen millions, which, if
provided for by loans, temporary or funded,
will be merely an addition to the national
debt. The actual public debt already ex-
ceeds $64,700,000, the greater portion of
which is redeemable before the year 1868.
Under the system that has been pursued
for the last three or four years, of con-
tracting debt upon debt, and putting the
day of payment as far as possible into the
future, it is not unreasonable to suppose
that the public debt will, within twenty
years, have risen to $100,000,000. Mean-

while the expenses of the government have
been greatly increased by additions to the
national territory. The great increase of
the business of the country, requiring an
additional number of inspectors, guagers,
weighers, will add considerably to the cost
of collecting the revenue. The act of
March 3d, 1845, limiting the number of
these officers, will need to be revised for
the more effectual prevention of breaches
or evasions of the revenue laws. The ware-
housing system, introduced by Mr. Walk-
er, has gi'eatly increased the number of
officials requned by that service. The
necessity of creating new collection dis-
tricts in Texas and California, in addition
to those already established, is also a ne-
cessity for new expense. In the jugdment
of the Secretary, no reduction is practica-
ble in these branches of service ; on the
contrary, the force will have to be increased.

Nor are the expenses of the army, on a
peace establishment, likely to be at all di-
minished. The necessity of protecting
the frontier of Texas and New Mexico,
and of maintaining military posts in the
new territories, will draw largely upon the
public purse, and there is every reason to
believe that public opinion will soon de-
mand a large addition to the navy for the
protection of a commerce which attracts
the attention and excites the jealousy of
our commercial rivals. These latter sug-
gestions are not, however, made by the
Secretary of the Treasuiy.

In a word, every thing points to a neces-
sity for the adoption of the most efficient
and economical means of increasing the
revenue.

We have our choice among three meth-
ods, the imposition of direct taxes, or of
specific duties, or the augmentation of the
national debt. Concerning the first meth-
od, the imposition of direct taxes, it is un-
necessary to say much at present. If demo-
cratic economists think it a popular mea-
sure, they will not fail to propose it to the
people. To all the influence and popularity
which can be gained by saddling the coun-
try with excises, corn taxes, land taxes, tax-
es on legal proceedings, on churches, school
houses, live stock, and the various necessa-
ries of life, they are welcome ; we shall not
grudge it them ; but we confess we are
ambitious of the honor, the credit, and the
praise which will belong to us if we sue-

1850.]

Secretary's Report.

117

ceed in paying the expenses of the govern-
ment by the direct and economical method
of specific duties. While at the same time
we deprecate, nay, earnestly seek to avoid,
the odium which must follow, if not in the
present, then in the succeeding generation,
of that slack, faithless and timid policy which
shall content itself with pushing forward
the national liabilities into the future, and
fix upon us, as a nation, the habit of paying
in promises to be kept by our posterity.
Not only, therefore, to meet our present
necessities and provide for the increased
expenses of our government, but to nip this
great evil in the bud, to keep our nation-
al liabilities within manageable limits, we
cannot but give a warm support to the
proposition of the honorable Secretary of
the Treasury.

Mr. Meredith has given us a statement of
the excess of army and navy expenditure,
occasioned by the war with Mexico. The
excess of army expenditure for that pur-
pose has been more than ^58,800,000,
and to this, added the excess of naval ex-
penditure, makes a total exceeding $63,
600,000. The increase of debt by the use
of the public credit, to meet the additional
expense, was only $49,009,000 ; leaving
|;14, 600,000 to be paid out of the revenue.

Land warrants to the amount of $18,
000,000 have also been issued ; thereby
diminishing the sales of public lands, and
the revenues therefrom accruing, in the
sum of, perhaps, 2,000,000. To this,
however, no reasonable objection can be
raised, as the issue of a land-warrant is a
cheaper process than the sale of as much
land at auction.

Mr. Meredith estimates that had there
been no unusual expenditure, there would
have been a balance in the Treasury, on
the 1st of July, of more than $12,600,000.

The Secretary attributes the deficit de-
clared for the coming years to the extra-
ordinary expenses of the war and treaty
with Mexico ; and that the justly high pub-
lic credit of the United States is not en-
dangered by the fact, that a new loan will
be required. He proposes, therefore, that
a loan not to exceed $16,500,000, be au-
thorized on such terms of interest and re-
payment as the President, in his discretion,
shall, previous to their being issued, see fit
to order.

Mr. Meredith adds :

" To provide for the payment out of the
revenue of the instalment which will be
due to Mexico in the fiscal year ending
30th June, 1852, to secure the raising of a
fund for the gradual extinguishment of our
heavy public debt, and to place the revenue
on a sure basis of sufficiency for all the ex-
penditures of the Government, it will be
necessary to adopt measures for increasing
the revenue ; and the most available means
to that end are to be found in raising the
duty on unports. That an economy as
rigid as may be found compatible with the
necessities of the country will regulate the
appropriations, under existing circumstan-
ces cannot be doubted."

" In proposing some alterations in the ex-
isting tarifi", with a view, as well to the
necessary augmentation of the revenue as
the encouragement of industry, I think it
right to present distinctly the views enter-
tained on the latter subject, in the hope
that a course may be adopted by the wis-
dom and patriotism of Congress which may
tend to harmonize discordant feelings and
promote the general prosperity."

Under this head, he says he entertains
no doubt of the rightful power of Congress
to regulate commerce and impose duties
in such a manner as shall favor the indus-
try of the country. It will no doubt, at some
future time be matter of wonder that it
should ever have been necessary for any
government, performing its natm-al duties,
to defend such a position. The ^revenue,
in whatever .shape, or by whatever means,
or under whatever theory it is collected,
has to be expended, aftei-^ its collection for
the protection of the national industry and
property. To this end forts are buUt, an
army and navy is maintained, commerce is
defended, territories are purchased from
foreign nations, post-ofiices are established,
light-houses are erected, and the rights of
each and all are defended. By what spe-
cies of argumentation are we then to be con-
vinced, that these ends are to be thought sole-
ly during the expenditure, and never during
the collection,of the public revenue. Light-
houses are established in order that those
who engage in commercial enterprises may
not wreck their property on rocks and
shoals. Light-houses are there for the pro-
tection of persons engaged in navigation.
They could, if they chose, stay at home and
live upon the products of the soil ; but it is

118

Secretary's Report.

[Feb.

not deemed expedient by Government that
men snould be solely farmers, or that the
profits of the farmer should be limited to an
exchange with his immediate neighbors ; it
is deemed expedient that a new branch of
industry should be created and fostered by
that beneficent agency which wields the
sovereign power of the people ; and for
this reason light-houses are built and navies
are maintained, and as yet our democratic
theorists have raised no argument against
this wide stretch of sovereignty ; they
rather seem to glory in it. They have
even been at the pains to fabricate a theory
for its particular defence ; the theory of
Free Trade.

" I find no obligation written in the Con-
stitution," says Mr. Meredith, "to lay
taxes, duties or imposts, at the lowest rate
that will yield the largest revenue." Can
it be doubted for a moment that an injunc-
tion of the kind would directly contravene
the intention of the constitution itself, which
has provided for the regulation of all things
necessary for the public good ; or that the
power to regulate commerce and enforce
duties given by the constitution, was given
for the public good } And would not that
be, in spirit, an unconstitutional regulation
which destroyed a branch of the national
industry.? Let us suppose that one third
of the population were already engaged
in manufacture ; would not that be in
spirit an unconstitutional regulation which
impoverished that third in order that the
remaining third might be enabled to live,
for a time, more economically.' And was
not the tariff" of forty-six opposed to the
general spirit of the constitution when it
broke down the national industry and threw
out of employment the workers in cloth
and iron in order that the cultivators of the
earth might procure foreign luxuries at a
little lower rate } Is it not protection with
a vengeance, to make regulations for the
little finger of industry which paralyze
the right arm ? to make regulations for
commerce, tending to a lessening of the
material of commerce, and to a depression
of that power and intelligence through
which it chiefly thrives — the power and in-
telligence of the artizan }

"If it were true, that a duty laid on a
given article with a view to encourage our
own productions is unlawful, because it
may operate, by discouraging importation,

as a partial prohibition, the proposition
would be equally true of every duty laid
with that intent, whether it were above or
below the maximum revenue rate. But,
as under the power to regulate commerce,
it is competent for Congress to enact a di-
rect and total prohibition of the importa-
tion of any article, it can be no objection
to an act levying duties, that it may ope-
rate in partially preventing importation.
Whether it be wise or just so to levy du-
ties, is another question. What I mean to
say now is, that there is no prohibition of
it in the constitution. The proposition is
maintained, as universally true, that the
express grant of a power to Congress gives
to that body the right of exercising that
power in such manner as in its opinion may
be most conducive to the advantage of the
country.

" As instances of the exercise of the
power of regulating commerce, may be
mentioned the prohibition of importations,
except at designated ports; the prohibi-
tion of the coasting trade to all foreign
vessels, and to all American vessels, not
licensed and enrolled ; the prohibition of
certain trade to foreign vessels under the
Navigation act of 1817; the prohibition
of certain trade to American vessels by the
Non-intercourse act, and of all trade by
the Embargo act ; the drawback on the re-
exportation of foreign goods ; finally, the
prohibition of the introduction of adulte-
rated drugs into the country by the act of
26th June, 1848.

" Under the power to levy taxes, duties,
and imposts, I refer to the discriminating
tonnao;e duties on foreim vessels, the dis-
criminating duties on their cargoes, the
preamble to the first law imposing duties
passed under the constitution, and the en-
actments of most of the subsequent ones.

" These enactments show that at most or
all periods of our history the views which
I have expressed appear to have been sus-
tained and acted on."

Any provision of the constitution, confer-
ring a certain power, or range of power,
upon Congress, is given with the under-
standing that that power shall be exercised
with discretion, and in no instance to the
detriment of the national health, liberty, or
prosperity. The maxim of Free Trade,
that government shall collect its revenues
with regard only to its own financial neces-

1850.]

Secretary's Report,

119

sities, taken as it is commonly understood,
has not only an aspect of inhumanity, but
contravenes its own intention ; for it might
be contended that a system of policy tend-
ing to increase the internal resources of the
country, that is to say, that a policy estab-
lished for the protection of agriculture and
maniifaetures, would be of necessity ad-
vantageous to commerce. It is hardly
necessary to urge, that as the commerce
of the country is measured by its in-
ternal wealth, its material being the ex-
changeable surplus of that wealth, regula-
tions for the protection of agriculture and
manufactures arc cjfectiially regulations
for the augmentation of commerce itself.
Moreover, as the Secretary shows, the
most valuable commerce, in other words,
that which yields the largest return to the
country which engages in it, is a commerce
in manufactured articles.

" Great Britain exports chiefly what she
has first brought to the form in which it is
ready for ultimate consumption ; it is at
the stage of its highest value, and her
market is almost co-extensive with the
civilized world.

" All history shows that where are the
workshops of the world, there must be the
marts of the world, and the heart of wealth,
commerce, and power. It is as vain to
hope to make these marts by providing
warehouses, as it would be to make a crop
by building a barn."

And again : " Commerce is the machi-
nery of exchange. It is the handmaid of
agriculture and manufactures. It will not
be affii-med that it is ever positively inju-
rious— but it wlU be more or less useful as
it co-operates more or less with the pro-
ductive industry of the country. The
mere carriage of commodities by sea or
land is necessarily profitable only to the
carrier, who is paid for it. It may be
useful or not to others, according to cir-
cumstances. The farmer finds a railroad
a great convenience, but he understands
that it is better employed in carrying his
crop, than in carrying away his seed-wheat
and manure.

" The commerce which should consist
in carrying cotton-seed abroad, to be there
grown, would not be so useful as that which
is now occupied in exporting the raw cot-
ton grown at home. We should easily
understand, also, that the commerce thus

employed would be much more limited in
amount and much less profitable to the
carriers than what we now have. Yet
our commerce is, in fact, of the same na-
ture with that above described. The seed
bears to the cotton the same relation which
cotton bears to the cloth. If we now ex-
port cotton of the value of about sixty-six
millions, the same cotton, when converted
into cloth, would make an export of some
two hundred and sixty-four millions, or
some two hundred and forty-five millions
after deducting the fifteen or twenty mil-
lions which would be required for our own
consumption (in addition to the portion of
our present manufactures, consumed at
home), and our imports would be thereby
in like manner increased. England, at
this moment, derives a large portion of her
power from spinning and weaving our cot-
ton. When we shall spin and weave it
ourselves, make our own iron, and manu-
factm-e our other staples, we shall have
transferred to this country the great cen-
tres of wealth, commerce, civilization, and
political, as well as moral and intellectual
power."

Political economy seems to be, with
most men, an afiair of the imagination ; in
fact, a department of poetry. We hear
much of the white wings of commerce
whitening the shores of continents.

A ship is indeed a very beautiful object,
but so also is a well-cultivated farm, diver-
sified with grass fields, copses, and slopes of
golden grain. Viewed in the purple light
of morning, while the misty hollows are yet
fresh with dew, it is a sight that sends the
spirit upward in thankful prayer to the
great Economist, the good Father under
whose inspiration Man has accomplished so
beautiful and so good a work.

Nor is our wonder less excited and our
admiration awakened by that other evidence
of the Divine skUl guiding the human
hand, the workshop of the artizan. Wind-
ing by some rugged pathway along the de-
clivity of a mountain, we hear far below a
subterannean thunder. The rigid leaves
of the pine tremble above us. The forest
quivers with the din. We descend, and here,
fixed upon rocks, under the spray of a cata-
ract, we discover the shop of the iron forger.
A mighty hammer, in shape and bulk like a
fragment of rock, leaps frantic at its task,
moulding the glowing metal with a terrible

120

Secretary's Report.

[Feb.

facility and precision. The blind forces of
nature are controlled and tempered by a
little cordjn the hand of a child.

Here, too, there is room for the mys-
terions pleasure of contemplation. In all
those works wherein reason appears, Di-
vinity also is made evident ; and hence our
wonder and respect for human labor. But
it is a weak and ill-cultivated intellect that
suffers its admiration for a particular result
of human skill to draw it from the true aim
of statemanship, the common good. There
is a sublimity in the contemplation of the
public good, of the moral and physical well-
being of a people, far more exalting and sat-
isfictory to the intellect than in these con-
templations of art and nature. In the re-
cesses of his heart the sincere and liberal
statesman must carry the weight of an awful
responsibility, and the latent strength of
the man, or if we may be allowed the ex-
pression, his nearness to God, appears then
most when he is called to guide the opinion
and advance the interest of a nation.

Of the moral effects of intercourse with
foreign nations, much may be said ; but the
moral effects of intercourse are not mea-
sured by the ''extent of trade. The moral
and intellectual power exercised by Ger-
many over America, during the last twenty
years, has been so great, it can be com-
pared only with a revolution, and has been
in fact, a revolution of ideas, manners and
opinions, silent but irresistible : and yet
the trade with Germany, measured by im-
ports and exports, is so small, its loss
would be hardly felt a year or two after its
cessation. Were a prohibition laid upon
ships from Germany, the mighty indus-
try of America would, in twelve months,
supply the void : but Germany would not
cease therefore to be the intellectual master
and teacher of the American people. Were
our commercial intercourse with England,
even, suspended for a term of years, who
doubts that the capital and the energy
afloat in that vast and profitable trade,
would seek and find new fields of enter-
prise. Great as such a calamity would
indeed be, it would be by no means a per-
manent or an irretrievable one : not as in-
jurious as the destruction of a single branch
of industry : a period of ten years would
perhaps be sufficient to heal the wound
laid open, to fill up the breach made, to
give a new course to power and capital.

Imagine, for comparison, the sudden des-
truction of the cotton plantations, or of
the manufactories of Massachusetts. Ima-
gine a blight of corn, devastating one-half
the country, — what would be the extinc
tion of an English commerce compared
with that .' We over-estimate the pecu-
niary advantages of commerce. The Hon.
Secretary says that he will not admit that
commerce can be ever injurious ; but, with
all deference, we think it may become so,
when its protection becomes a mania with
politicians, who, at the same time, are too
perversely blind, or too ignorant to see what
its true interests are ; and who would con-
vert its favor in the minds of the people
into an argument for the destruction of that
by which it best thrives — for the destruc-
tion of manufactures.

The industry of the carrier cannot be
set up in rivalry against the industiy of the
producer. The horse who carries flour to
market is not more valuable than the horse
who carries it to mill. The carrier him-
self is not a more estimable man, by voca-
tion, than the farmer or the miller.

In the whole course of this argument the
friends of free trade have either neglected
to observe, or have kept out of view, the
fact that a commerce is more or less valua-
ble as that which it carries has received
more or less value from the industry of
those who have sent it forth. A trade in
gold may indeed prove a very unprofitable
trade, even when it is a monopoly. A va-
ried commerce sustained by manufactures,
the ship of the exporter conveying the
goods which the capital or the industry of
his friend or his brother has created out of
a coarse and worthless material, other things
being equal, must lead to wealth.

Mr. Meredith assumes that all legisla-
tion designed to favor a particular class to
the prejudice of others, or, worse still, to
injure a particular class for the benefit of
others, is manifestly unwise and unjust.
What then more unjust and injurious than
the tariff of 1846, which was enacted, first,
to favor the commercial interests to the
prejudice of the manufacturers, and, sec-
ondly, to injure and depress the manufac-
turers for the benefit of the agriculturalists
and the commercial classes.^ for though it
seem a hard judgment, it is impossible to
deny that the advocates of free-trade have
discovered a spuit positively and openly

1850.]

Secretary's Report.

121

inimical to the artizan. By every argu-
ment in their power they have endeavored
to diminish our respect for him ; they have
represented liim as lower in the moral
scale than his brother the agriculturalist,
and they have discovered no remorse for
the injury which their measures have in-
flicted upon him. By inviting a foreign
rival to compete with him, they have cut
down his wages, and when he came to
them with bitter complaints of the injustice,
their reply has been, change your business,
— seek a new employment, — learn a new
trade. Nay, they have so far insulted his
misfortune and his natural rights as a man,
as to say to him : — you have mistaken your
business ; you should have been a tiller of
the earth ; American citizens have no busi-
ness with manufactures; nature intended
them for producers of raw material ; it is
only Englishmen and Frenchmen who shall
be permitted to work it up and confer value
upon it by an intelligent industry.

The fallacies of public economy are per-
haps the most subtle that confuse and agi-
tate the human mind ; for this department
of knowledge is not, as many have ima-
gined, a science reducible to propositions,
and capable of syllogistic forms. The de-
duction of its first principles is from a wide
and general experience in the business and
intercourse of life. It is perhaps impossi-
ble for one wholly unacquainted with af-
fairs to understand it. To feel the value
of its rules and maxims we must be, or we
must have been, in a double contact with
the world, — a social and an economical
contact. Every step in the reasonings of
public economy must be taken upon a firm
ground ; there must be no leaping or stri-
ding with the lifts of imagination. The
wings of anticipation must be pinioned to
the side, and every nerve of sense sufiered
to come rudely in contact with reality.
What is the experience of a nation with its
afiairs, if not the enlarged and generalized
experience of an individual with his own.?
and that, too, not of a one sided or partial
activity, narrowed by following too intently
a single line of occupation, but by a general
observation and imderstanding of all busi-
nesses, and an appreciation of their value
compared with others. A complete and
accomplished farmer, banker, or nego-
tiator might very easily be a wretched
economist in pubUc aflfairs ; but the know-

ledge of banking, in reference to the gen-
eral business of the community, and of the
arts of agricultm-e and general negotiation,
as they are integral parts of the national in-
dustry, may be well conceived to be indis-
pensible to the statesman.

'' As every producer," says Mr. Mere-
dith, " in one branch of useful industry, is
also a consumer of the products of others,
and as his ability to consume depends upon
the profits of his production, it follows, that
to give prosperity to one branch of indus-
try, is to increase the rest." A proposi-
tion, which, most evidently, proceeds from
an experience, by no means limited to a
single, narrow line of occupation, but
either versed in, or by thorough observa-
tion well informed of the positive and re-
lative value of many.

We find, in this report, a principle de-
veloped, which has already been alluded to,
but which, from its importance, requires
continual enforcement and reiteration.

" No country can attain a due strength
of prosperity that does not by its own labor
carry its own productions as nearly as
possible to the point necessary to fit them
for idtunate consumption. To export its
raw material and re-import the articles
manufactured from it, or to neglect its own
raw materials and import the articles man-
ufactured from that of another country, is
to pretermit the means which nature has
provided for its advancement.

" For instance, we exported, during the
fiscal year, ending 30th June, 1848, raw
cotton to the value of about sixty-six mil-
lions of dollars. If that cotton had been
spun and woven at home, (supposing its
value to be increased fourfold by manufac-
ture), it would have produced a value of
about one-hundred and ninety-eight mil-
lions in addition. What would have been
the effect of this increased production on

the prosperity of the country."

* * * * * *

" The manufacture of cotton cloth is
begun with the planting of the cotton — is
carried to a certain point by the planter,
and then taken up and perfected by the
spinner and weaver. The planter and
manufacturer are not engaged in different
branches of industry, but in the same — the
one commences the process which the other
completes. Cotton seed of insignificant
value being by regular stages of labor deve-

122

Secretary's Report.

[Feb.

loped and brought to the form of cotton
cloth, has acquired a value of about two
hundred and sixty -four millions.

" The planting States have added many
millions to the annual production of the
country by the culture of cotton. By con-
tinuing the process they could quadruple
that addition.

" The planter would then have a market
at his door for all his produce, and the
farmer would in like manner have a home
market for his. The power of consump-
tion of not only breadstuffs, but of every
article useful or necessary in the feeding,
clothing, and housing of man, would be
vastly increased — the consumer and pro-
ducer would be brought nearer to each
other — and in fact a stimulus would be ap-
plied to every branch of productive in-
dustry.

'* It is gratifying to know that the manu-
facture of cotton has already been intro-
duced into several of the planting States,
and it ought not to be doubted will rajjidly
be extended."

The manufacture of iron, wool, and our
other staples would lead to similar results.
The effect would be a vast augmentation of
our wealth and power.

Upon commerce the effects might be ex-
pected to be still more marked. It is not
enough to say that no country ever dimin-
ished its commerce by increasing its pro-
ductions— and that no injury would there-
fore result to that interest. There would
probably be not only a great increase in
the amount, but an improvement not less
important in the nature of our com-
merce.

The single article of cotton is taken here
for illustration merely, and not because it
is more important than some others ; for
it is perhaps the greatest misfortune that
can befal a manufacturing people to have
its attention directed upon a single ma-
terial of industry to the neglect of all

others.

******

We must refuse to admit, even for the
sake of argument, that the rules of econo-
my differ either in their economical
or moral foundation, from those which
ought to regulate private affairs. The
people never can know anything of " rea-
sons of state ;" — if they are to be sove-
reigns, as it is claimed they are, then the

government must be managed in their
manner ; that is to say, by the rules of
common honesty, and common prudence.
Let kings and subtle ministers go on refin-
ing ; of their subtleties the people have no
knowledge ; and if they or their represen-
tatives depart from those simple rules of
construction, by which the massive frame-
work of the state is held together, the fa-
bric must fall about their ears. The equit-
able working of this system commends it
to our entire favor.

We observe, first^ that were foreign
goods admitted duty free, the revenue
would have to be collected by direct taxa-
tion.

This taxation would have to bear equal-
ly upon every species of property. The
taxes for the general government would
probably be collected by the same agents
who collect for the State governments, and
upon the same species of property. No
other system would be esteemed equitable.
If extraordinary expenses were to be met,
excises on liquors and other luxuries would
probably be tried.

By the system of direct taxation the ex-
penses of the general government would be
severely felt by every tax-payer. Poll
taxes are always inequitable, as they bear
more heavily upon the poor ; the revenues
would consequently be collected upon real
and personal property.

A sudden addition of forty millions to the
general taxes would be severely felt by a
population of twenty-one millions, of whom
only a third or thereabouts would be the
real tax-payers.

The annual importation of foreign luxu-
ries would become cheaper, other things
being equal, to the amount of taxation
transferred to land, &c., i. e., thirty mil-
lions cheaper.

Were the duty-payers the same with the
tax -payers, it would make but little differ-
ence to them, whether they paid a land tax
or paid a duty, the one would not be more
burdensome than the other. It might,
however, be more agreeable to pay a vol-
untary tax for luxm-ies which they were not
obliged to use, than to pay a forced and in-
evitable one on real estate, &e., collected
by a government officer.

But the tax-payers would not be the
same as the duty-payers. The tax-pay-
ers would be every holder of property ia

1850.]

Secretary's 'Report.

123

the nation, under an equitable and demo-
cratic system. The rich man who used
only a few foreign luxuries would have an
enormous tax to pay, and the poor man
who used none would have still a tax to
pay : while those who owned no land
might live luxuriously, paying no taxes at
all. Foreign cloths, foreign wines, foreign
fruits, foreign jewelry, in short every mi-
nute article of personal luxury that eludes
taxation, freed from duties, would be in-
dulged in by those who owned no land but
were, nevertheless, spenders of money.

Republics are governments for the poor,
and it is agreeable to their institutions to
discourage luxury. The doctrines of free
trade are for the benefit of the idle and lux-
urious, removing the burthens of wealth to
the back of poverty and industry.

We have said, that if general tax-payers
were, to the same amount, under a tariff sys-
tem, duty -payers, it would make but little
diflFerence to them, except as they might
prefer a voluntary to an involuntary pay-
ment. This, however, is not strictly true.

The constant eiFort of ownership is to
escape taxation. Taxed property is more
troublesome than untaxed. If the entire
taxation of the country rested upon land
alone, the selling price of land would be
depressed not only to the entire amount of
the taxation, but much more than that ;
because of a general aversion among proper-
ty holders to taxation as a system. In
cities, houses would be built up many stories
higher ; the population would crowd togeth-
er over small spaces of ground. Provisions
would be dear, and farm wages low.
Ground rents would be high, and the pro-
fits of the owners small. Capital would
generally avoid investment in land. The
number of those who live by ingenuity
only, and by trade, would increase beyond
the natural limit, while the number of ag-
riculturalists would diminish, and the small
farmers in general be broken up or crushed
with mortgages. Can any one doubt the
injuriousness of such a system .'*

The general theory of democracy favors
the land owner, and the cultivators of the
soil. It ought, therefore, to demand the
removal of taxation from land and its im-
position upon every other species of prop-
erty. The endeavor of the opposition lead-
ers is at present, however, the reverse of
this. The people are invited to remove

every restriction from trade, and to give
that branch of industry a privilege of ex-
emption, throwing the entire burden of
taxation upon agriculture and manufacture.

The fact that their system of measures
is identical with that which has been adopt-
ed by England, is a sufiicient proof of its
absurdity. Every important act of legis-
lation in England has been with a view to
sustain her manufactures against our own.
If she admits the raw material of industry
duty free, it is for the benefit of the manu-
facturing capitalists. If she admits corn at
a low duty, it is that her operators may be
content with low wages. Her manufac-
tures are her wealth. She has the world
for a market, and must retain it or yield
her place as the wealthiest and most pow-
erful nation.

England stood ready to admit corn
and cotton almost duty free from Amer-
ica, and only desired America to admit
her manufactures in exchange — a state
of things precisely the most favorable to
her and the most disadvantageous to our-
selves. We had but one market for our
corn and cotton ; she had a thousand for
her manufactures. Bread stuifs and cot-
ton are difficult and costly of carriage ;
manufactures cheaply and easily transport-
ed. By abolishing the navigation act, she
reduced freights to the very lowest rates,
with the view, still, of enlarging the pro-
fits of the manufacturer, who could thus
procure more cheaply his raw material, and
transport his commodities at less cost to
himself. At the same time, every argu-
ment was employed by England to urge
America into a larger production of corn
and cotton, that the prices of their com-
modities mi^ht be as far as possible redu-
ced. A theory of free-trade constructed by
closet politicians, and seized upon by the
shrewder sort as a valuable tool for their
purposes, was sent over and formally pre-
sented to the democracy here as a testimo-
ny of esteem from the capitalists of Eng-
land. Mr. Walker and his friends received
the mischievous keep-sake with transport,
never observing the grin of malign satisfac-
tion with which the gift was accompanied.

During all this great controversy, which
has now agitated England and America for
an entire age, has any person, either in the
closet or out of it, taken the pains to in-
quire into the causes of the controversy it-

124

Secretary'' s Report.

[Feb.

self ? Has any person asked bis neighbor
wby England was so busy in circulating
free-trade doctrines in America and at
home? Come, then, let us see whether
any light will spring out upon such a ques-
tion.

England was once the workshop of all
nations. She had no rival. She protect-
ed her agriculture by corn laws, her com-
merce and manufactures by tariffs and nav-
igation laws. All at once a rival appears,
and, as usual, she picks a quarrel and be-
gins a war. An embargo, forbidding the
use of English manufactures, creates a
new spirit of enterprise among the people
of America, who begin instantly to man-
ufacture for themselves the conveniences
for which they had before depended
upon England. The war is ended.
England has gained nothing by it. On
the contrary, she has only added a new
element of power to the strength of her ri-
val, who has now learned the secret of self-
protection, and by keeping up her embargo
in the form of tariffs, not only protects her
own industry but begins to compete with
England in the market of the world.

In vain the English manufacturer lowers
his prices ; in vain he depresses the wages
of his laborers to the starving point at home.
Ruin impends. A new thought seizes
him. He invents, in the retirement of his
closet, a theory of free-trade, a specious
bait for philanthropists, a rare morsel for
the discontented in America. It is the
habit of the English mind to examine the
facts before concocting the theory. The
facts were, that a greater freedom of trade
was necessary in the commercial and man-
ufacturing pre-eminence of England ; the
theory followed of course. Its application
to America was a happy stroke, a piece of
excellent wisdom.

The tariffs of the United States have
heen^ and are the causes of the present
freet om of trade inEngland. Had Eng-
land never had a rival, free-trade would
have been unnecessary for her, and, there-
fore, unthought of. Shall] we dare'to say
that the destruction of the protective system
in America, would soon be followed by its
re-establishment in England .? Such is at
e ast our own opinion.

The constant and sole argument of the
free-trade party against tariffs for protec-
tion is, that they favor one class of the

community at the expense of another. No-
thing could be more absurd. Where does
the tax fall .? On the consumer } Let it
be admitted that it does so, and exclusive-
ly too. A tariff of 40 cents a yard is laid
on a partietdar kind of cloth. It is optional
with consumers of that cloth to use it or
not. A large revenue is raised thereby.
So far all is right, the object of the tariff is
to raise a revenue, the higher the tariff un-
der a certain limit, the larger the revenue,
and its specific imposition keeps it free
from fluctuation and fraudulent valuation.
The choice will be among articles of ex-
pence and luxury, chiefly cloths, cutlery,
&c., of a description not absolutely neces-
sary to life, and too costly to be made
at home. So far, there is no injustice
done ; the democratic principle of equality
and freedom has been adhered to : the ob-
ject was to raise revenue, and the largest
possible revenue, and it is done.

Every tariff, however great, however
small, is protective. The 30 per cent, ad
(■ a 'o; em on English cotton cloths is pro-
tective, and powerfully so. It protects a
certain grade of manufacturers. A higher
tariff would protect still higher grades. The
fact of its protective operation has not yet
been cited against it.

The largest revenue will he raised hy
tariffs upon articles which are used lid not
manufactured in this country^ and these at
the same time will he the most protective in
their operation.

Let us suppose, for example, that a cer-
tain kind of expensive broad cloth is large-
ly used in America but not manufactured
there, because of the outlay required for
its manufacture. The price wUl be kept
by the English manufacturer as high as
possible, as long as he fears no competition.
The American capitalist knows that the
price demanded by the importer is facti-
tious, and can be lowered in an instant.
He, therefore, wisely abstains from enga-
ging in the manufacture of the article, and
the unporter goes on demanding higher and
higher prices ; there is no limit to this spe-
cies of extortion except the competition of
rival houses in England, (a danger which
they can obviate by a compact among
themselves) or the inability of buyers in
America to pay what is asked. The im-
porter will therefore fix the price at the
point of largest profit j a point very disad-

1850.]

Secretary's Report.

125

vantageous to the purchasers. Importers
and foreign manufacturers operating to-
gether, with this absolute control over
prices, can easily crush all attempts at a
home manufacture of the article in question.
And they systematically do so, acting on
the natural instincts of acquisition.

Let the government now ascertain the
difference between the highest and lowest
values of this species of goods. Let it be
50 cents the yard. If a specific duty is then
laid at perhaps 40 cents the yard, it will
yield a large revenue. At the lowest values
the importers will make a profits — at the
highest he will injure his market by put-
ting the goods beyond the reach of most
buyers.

The imposition of the duty has the effect
to raise the price permanently, so that now
the range of fluctuation in its value is limi-
ted to 20 cents the yard. Still, however,
the market is not injured ; a fair profit is
made by the importer ; but he is unable to
raise his prices higher than is necessary for
a fair profit, since by doing so he injures
his market. He has a hearty good will to
keep the price at the highest, and would
have done so at any rate. He is now com-
pelled to do so for other reasons. It is,
therefore, in this particular instance, not
the consumer, not the public, but the manu-
facturer and the importer who pay the
duty. It comes out of their pockets.
England and her supporters were already
taking the money out of the purses of
American consumers, but by a judicious
tariff the government transferred these ex-
orbitant profits to the national treasury.

Could anything more just or expedient
have been imagined .? The deep river of
wealth that was flowing toward England is
turned, at the custom-house, into an Amer-
ican reservoir.

But here is not the end. American ca-
pitalists begin soon to discover that the
article, thus taxed, can now be manufac-
tured at home ; the foreign manufacturer
having it no longer in his power to lower
the price beyond a certain point. Then
begins protection, as a natural consequence
of a system calculated for the time to raise
the largest revenue. The goods begin soon
to be made at home. They are at first of
an inferior character, and are forced with
difficulty into the market. Two years is a
short term for the establishment of any

manufacture. Another year will be con-
sumed in forcmg the home fabiic into equal
competition with the foreign. At first,
every manufacture is expensive ; but as
machinery improves, the article improves
and the price goes down. A term of five
years is perhaps necessary for this effect.
Meanwhile, the revenue is gradually dimin-
ished by the disuse of the foreign article.
After five or six years, the tariff begins to
operate as a prohibition, and the home
manufacturers are continually lowering their
prices, competition compelling them to chea-
pen every process and improve their manu-
facture to the utmost The specific duty
has to be lowered. Again the foreign com-
modity comes in. The process is continued
to that point where a fair and equal compe-
tition has brought the foreign and home
manufacturers so near to an equality that a
very moderate revenue can be realized by
a tariff equal to their difterence, and this
solely by the adjustment of a duty calcu-
lated for the time to raise the largest re-
venue. The tariff in that particular arti-
cle of commerce has ceased, indeed, to yield
a revenue, but a vast increase of wealth to
the country at large has been the conse-
quence. Such is the operation of a truly
protective tariff.

Knowing, as we do, that had prices beeji
left to English manufacturers to regulate,
they would have kept them at the highest
possible level, and that a competition
among foreigners themselves, with the mar-
kets of the world at their control, is not
sufficient to bring prices down to their just
limits, the charge that a protective tariff
robs the consmner, by raising prices, is ab-
surd. It may do so in particular instances ;
but when prices are high, it is a necessary
consequence, that the loss by duty falls up-
on the foreign manufacturer.

The duty is simply a diversion into the
public treasury of a stream of wealth
that would otherwise floio into the pockets
of the foreign manvfacturcrs .

That the profits to the treasury are grad-
ually lessened by the substitution of the
home article, is not an injury to the people.
In that case, the stream which was diverted
from the purse of the foreigner into the
national treasury, is now diverted, in stead,
into the purses of the farmers and artizans
who supply food and labor for the manu-
facture of the article ; and is it not better

126

Secretarifs Report.

[Feb.

so, than as at first ? In a word, it is im-
possible to conceive a more certain, safe,
and just method of enriching and swelling
the strength and numbers of a people, than
the method of Protection.

In the instance taken for the illustration of
the effects of a high tariff, diverting the pro-
fits of importation first into the national treas-
ury and finally into the purses of the peo-
ple, prices were assumed to have been
raised to the highest point by the eagerness
of importers and foreign manufacturers ;
but if the prices of foreign imported com-
modities have been reduced by the compe-
tition of foreigners among themselves, if a
duty is affixed, the consumers will have
either to pay the duty or do without the
commodity : if it is one of the necessaries
of life, they will purchase, notwithstanding
the injury inflicted by the excessive price.
A tariff, in this case, is equivalent to a di-
rect tax laid upon the consumer by govern-
ment in the exact ratio of his consumption.
If the duty so far elevates the price of the
commodity as to tempt home industry to
try its strength with the foreigner, the duty
raised for revenue merely will have a protec-
tive influence upon home industry . If it be an
ad valorem* duty, varying directly with the
price of the commodity, this protection
will be greatest when the price of the arti-
cle is highest. Say it be thirty per cent. —
then, if the price of the article be one dol-
lar, it would be equivalent to a bonus of
thirty cents for every dollar of capital ex-
pended by the home manufacturer : as
soon, however, as the home manufacturer

" *I will proceed to state the nature of the modi-
fications which it appears expedient to make in
the existing tariff, and, if required, will hereafter
present a plan in detail.

" 1. The rates of duty are, in my opinion, too
low, especially on articles similar to our own sta-
ples. I conceive that the revenue has suffered
materially from this circumstance. Indeed, I am
compelled to believe that it would have been
greatly diminished but for the extraordinary de-
mand for our bread-stuffs and provisions, produced
by the famine in Europe in 1847, and to a great
extent continued by the short crop abroad in 1848.
(See statement marked M, hereto annexed.) Even
under these favorable circumstances the average
revenue from woollens, cottons, hempen goods,
iron sugar, hemp manufactured, salt and coal, has
fallen under the act of 1846 from $14,162,107 to
$13,392,624 50, taking the average from the re-
ceipts of 1845-1846, and those of 1848-1849 ;
being an average diminution of $769,982 60, as

engages in producing the article, the price
of the foreign commodity is lowered to
under-sell him ; but as the price falls, the
revenue accruing is diminished. If the
price fall fifty per cent., the revenue will
be diminished one-half, &c. Thus we see
that the natural effect of an ad valorem
duty is at first protective, and in the second
stage of its operation tends to diminish the
revenue.

The commerce of the United States will
not yield a sufficient revenue to the govern-
ment with a system of duties generally
low. Thirty per cent, on every valuable
species of importation, excepting tea and
coffee, barely yields a sufficient revenue.
If the costs of production in England are
in general a third less than in America,
thirty per cent, specific or ad valorem is a
protective duty, and has a certain protec-
tive effect. It is well understood that the
removal of the present duty, small as it is,
would have disastrous effects.

Let us now consider whether any injus-
tice can be charged upon the system con-
sidered as one of protection, (as, to a cer-
tain extent, it truly is,) under the supposi-
tion that the duty is paid by the consumer,
the profits of the importer remaining the
same. And first, it is necessary that a
revenue should be raised ; it is necessary,
also that it should be raised by the most
economical process. A tariff is believed
to be the most economical process ; but
under all circumstances it is a transient
method, serving its purpose only for a cer-
tain number of years, because of its pro-

will be seen by table marked (N), hereto an-
nexed ; the loss of annual revenue being as fol-
lows:

On cottons, $918,894 00

On hempen goods, 81,794 50

On sugar, 181,741 50

On salt, 348,438 50

On coal, 70,030 00

$1,580,898 00

The gain as follows :

On woollens, $355,592 50

On iron, 415,240 00

On hemp unmanufactured, . . . 40,083 00

. : ■ $810,915 50

" The very small increaseon the staples of wool-
lens, iron, and unmanufactured hemp, compared

1850.]

Secretary's Report.

127

tective influence creating home manufac-
tures which continually diminish the amount
and value of foreign importation. The
consumer learns gradually to prefer the
home manufacture and to dispense with
the foreign, and the character of com-
merce is in consequence continually chan-
ging : the raw material and luxuries of
other climates being substituted by the
importers for those foreign manufactured
articles which, in consequence of a home
competition, they find no longer profita-
ble. WhUe this change of imports is
going on, an analogous change of exports
is going on at the same rate. An exporta-
tion of manufactured articles takes the
place of an exportation of raw materials.
And this is the present condition of Eng-
land : that country derives a considerable
revenue from the importation of materials
iLsed in the arts. The same series of
events is now happening in America, and
the time is perhaps not far distant when
a sufficient revenue can no longer be real-
ized by duties laid chiefly upon foreign
manufactured articles.

Has an injury been inflicted upon the
country by a course of legislation which
changes its commerce from an importation
of manufactures and an exportation of raw
materials to the reverse .? Is that an inju-
rious system of policy which causes the
raw material of industry to be consumed
at home and provides a supply of man-
ufactures for exportation .? which, in fine,
is fast giving to America the advan-
tages for which England is contending with

with the vast injury occasioned to our production,
and the diminution thereby of our power of con-
sumption, cannot fail to attract attention — while
on the otlier articles named, the revenue and pro-
duction have both sufiered materially. It is be-
lieved that the revenue could be greatly increased
by increasmg the duties on these and other arti-
cles.

" 2. I propose a return of the system of specific
duties on articles on which they can be conveni-
ently laid. The effects of the present ad valorem
system are two-fold, viz. : on the revenue and on
our own productions. Experience has I think de-
monstrated, that looking exclusively to the revenue,
a specific duty is more easily assessed, more favor-
able to commerce, more equal and less exposed to
frauds, than any other system. Of course such a
duty is not laid without reference to the average
cost of the commodity. This system obviates the
difficulties and controversies which attend an ap-
praisement of the foreign market value of each

the entire force of her population .' " But
the instance ! the instance ! you elude
the instance !" exclaims our free-trader,
" You cannot deny that a tariff working a
sufiicient protection of iron, for example,
is an injustice to the community, who
arc thereby compelled to pay a higher
price for it !"

By no means. It is not an injustice to
the community to raise a sufficient revenue
upon iron, an article of general use. On
the contrary, it is a very equal mode of
taxation. The tariff is laid for revenue ;
its direction only, and specific application
is for protection. The largest revenue is
raised where the largest protection is given,
when an article of general use is made du-
tiable. Home competition does indeed
very soon diminish that revenue ; but with
what effects } Plainly, the transfer of
the profits of iron-making from English
to American industry. The profits which
passed over to England, now remain with
the American farmer who supplies food to
the iron-worker, and the American artizau
who converts the ore into articles of use.
And does a legislation which does all this,
work an injustice to the community } " But
the community must now pay a higher
price for iron, and by this system they are
taxed for the support of a particular manu-
facture." Granted that they are so, tem-
porarily ; does it follow that thereby a
greater injustice is worked than must be by
every system of tarifis, be they for protec-
tion or not } Every duty laid upon an
imported commodity, benefits a particular

invoice, and it imposes an equal duty on equal
quantities of the same commodity. Under the
ad valorem system, goods of the same kind and
quality, and between which there cannot be a
difference in value, in the same market at any
given time, nevertheless may often pay different
amounts of duty. Thus the hazards of trade are
unnecessarily increased.

''To levy an ad valorem duty on a foreign valu >
ation equably, at the different ports, is believed
to be impossible. That the standard of value at
any tw^o ports is precisely the same at any given
time, is wholly improbable. The facilities af-
forded to fraud upon the revenue are very great,
and it is apprehended that such frauds have been
and are habitually and extensively practised.
The statements annexed, marked (0), to which
I invite especial attention, exhibit in a strong
light the dangers to which this system is neces-
sarily exposed.

'' As the standard of value at every port must

128

Secretary's Report.

[Feb.

This effect is inherent

class of producers
in the system.

The farmers who supply the workmen of
the coal mines with food, are directly bene-
fited by a tariff upon British coal. They,
however, in their turn are consumers. The
more they have, the more they will buy.
The benefits which they reap, they also
distribute. As they increase in numbers
and in wealth, they buy more and better
clothes, and thus they confer a direct bene-
fit upon the cotton and wool-grower. All
that the cotton-grower asks, is a liberal
market. By creating a population of
iron-workers and miners in the country,
he provides a steadier and larger market
for his cotton. He will have to pay a few
shillings more for horse-shoes and plow-
shares, for the first five or six years; but
he has created a home market for his cot-

at last depend upon the average of the invoices
that are passed there, every successful attempt at
under-valuation renders more easy all that follow
it. The consequences are, not only that the rev-
enue sutlers, that a certain sum is in effect an-
nually given by the public among dishonest im-
porters" as a premium for their dishonesty, but
that fair American importers may be gradually
driven out of the business, and their places sup-
plied by unknown and unscrupulous foreign ad-
venturers. As long ago as ISOl, Mr. Gallatin
ur^ed the extension of specific duties on the
o-round now repeated — of the preventiuu of un-
der-valuation. In his report of that year he used
the following language : " Without any view to
an increase of revenue, but in order to guard, as
far as posssible, aga.nst the value of goods being
under-rated in the invoices, it would be eligible to
lay specific duties on all such articles now paying
duties ad valorem as may be susceptible of that
alteration." At that time specific duiies were
already laid on spirits and wines, sugar, molasses,
tea, coffee, salt, pepper, steel, nails and spikes,
hemp, coal, cordage, and several other articles.
* ******

" In England it is believed to have long been a

ton, wrought into cloth, which yields him
a profit ten or a dozen, or even an hundred
times beyond his increased expenses. " All
men," says Mr. Meredith, " are by turns
producers and consumers," and in this
view we are ready to give an unequivocal
denial to the dogma of free-trade, " that
protection extended to any branch of in-
dustry, is an injustice to all other branch-
es." It is not an injustice, unless it
is awkwardly and injudiciously applied.
There is indeed no good, that may not be
converted, by misapplication, into an evil.
The tariff for which we argue is a judicious
and reasonable one, calculated first for the
imtnediate raising of a sufiicient revenue,
and secondly, to work protection to the
food-growers and artizans of the United
States.

settled point that specific or rated duties (which
are ad valorem on an assumed value,) are in every
respect better for revenue and trade than any
other system.

" The effect of the existing system on production
is also striking. See document marked ( ) an-
nexed. It tends to aggravate the great fluctua-
tions in price which arc so injurious to trade as
well as industry.

" When prices abroad are very high the duty is
high also ; and when they fall to a very low point
the duty is low in proportion. It is a sliding
scale of the worst kmd. If the duty forms a part
of the price, it renders the extremes of fluctuation
more remote from each other by a per centago on
the range equal to the rate of the duty. If the
fluctuation abroad be from $50 to $20, the range
is of course $.30. A specific duty of $15 would
leave the range still $30. But at an ad valorem
of 30 per cent., the highest point would be $65,
and the lowest $26, making a range of $39. On
every account I strongly recommend a return to
the system of specific duties on all articles to
which they can be conveniently applied." — Report
of the Sec. of the Treasury.

1850.]

MHle de La Seigliere.

129

M'LLE DE LA SEIGLIERE

(Continued froin page 31.^

XII.

Why did M'Ue do La Seigliere escape
so suddenly from the arms of her father ?
Why, a few moments before, had the pale-
ness of death passed over her countenance ?
Why had her blood, as it were, rushed vio-
lently back to her heart ? How, while
the Marquis was endeavoring to point out
the necessity of an alliance with Bernard,
came she to fly, trembling, agitated, almost
frightened, yet sprightly, buoyant and hap-
py. She herself could not have told. Ar-
rived at the depths of the park, she let
herself fall upon a mound, and the silent
tears rolled spontaneously down her cheeks,
— honied pearls, dew-drops in the embalm-
ed petals of the lily. Thus happiness and
love have tears with their first smile, as if,
at their birth, they had the instinct of their
fragility, and were conscious that they
are born to suffer.

It was near the end of April. The park
was not large enough to contain the intox-
ication of her soul. She rose and gained
the open fields ; the blue heavens were
smiling above her head, and life chanted
in her young bosom. She had forgotten
Raoul, and scarcely thought of Bernard.
She walked at hazard, absorbed by a vague
thought, mysterious and charming, stop-
ping occasionally to inhale the perfume,
and referring to God the bliss which inun-
dated the warmest recesses of her heart ;
for she was, as we have already said, by
natm'e, serious as well as affectionate, and
profoundly religious. It was not till she
saw the sun passing below the horizon
that Helen thought to return to the chat-
eau. On her return, from the height of a
hill which she had just reached, and from
which she was upon the point of descend-
ing, she discovered Bernard, who was riding
on horseback along the valley. A strange
bnt delirious thrill went through her heart,
and her eye, intensely gazing, followed him

VOL. V. NO. II. NEW SERIES.

a long distance into the plain. She re-
turned thinking upon the lot of that youno-
man, whom she believed to be poor and dis-
inherited, and, for the first time, M'llc de La
Seigliere fell to contemplating, with a feelino-
of joy and pride, the chateau of her fatliei^
illuminated with the mellow lio'ht of the
setting sun, and the sea of verdure which
undulated in the breeze around it. At the
same time, beholding upon the other bank
of the river, the little castle de Vaubert,
sombre, and frowning, behind a cluster of
oaks, whose naked boughs had not yet felt
the influence of spring, she could not help
feeling an emotion of sadness and dread, as
if she was conscious that thence was to
come the blow which would destroy the
happiness of her life. The blow was, in
truth, not long in coming. Helen had
already arrived at the gate of the park,
and was just stepping over the sill, when
she was approached by a servant of the
baroness, who placed in her hand a packet
in an envelope, sealed with a triple seal,
and stamped with the baronial arms. She
recognized, at once, in the superscription,
the hand- writing of the young baron, who
had arrived at home the evening before,
but of whose return she did not know till
now. She turned pale, broke the envel-
ope with a trembling hand, and found, to-
gether with her own letters to Raoul,
which he thus returned, a letter from the
young man. Helen tore open the letter,
the seal of which was yet moist, read it
hastily, and stood fixed as if she had been,
struck with lightning.

Very like those automata which, at the-
touch of a spring appear and disappear at
your pleasure, M. de Vaubert had returned
as he had disappeared, at the word of hia
mother, with the same smile upon his lipg
and the same knot in his cravat. Thouf^h.
by no means remarkable in point of pene-
9

130

MHle de La SeiglUre,

[Feb,

tration, he was, on the whole, a fair minded,
honest, good natured young man. Not
only had he never joined in the intrigues of
his mother, but, thanks to the somewhat
limited powers of perception, which heaven
had vouchsafed to impart to him, it may
be even affirmed that he had not suspected
them. Up to the present time he had in-
nocently thought, like Helen, that old
Stamply, in divesting himself of his prop-
erty, had only restored to the La 8eig-
lieres the possessions which, of right, be-
longed to them, and that, in this, the good
man had followed only the suggestions of
his conscience. To say the truth, Raoul
had never troubled himself much about the
affair, and looked only at the result which,
of course, could not be expected to be par-
ticularly displeasing to him. He was poor,
and had always felt a desire for riches. A
million, he thought, would make an appro-
priate frame for a pretty portrait. Still,
he loved Helen less for her fortune than
her beauty ; he loved her after his man-
ner, coldly, but honorably — without pas-
Bion, but also without calculation. He
knew, moreover, the worth of his plighted
faith, and never, for a moment, had sordid
interest stained the flower of his youthful
honor. As he learned what had passed
during his absence, — the miraculoiis resur-
rection of young Stamply, his return, his
installation at the chateau, his incontestible
rights, whence inevitably resulted the ruin
of the Marquis and his tamily, M. de Vau-
bert, as will readily be believed, did not
discover any very timely transports of joy ;
his countenance was visibly elongated, and
its general expression indicated only a very
moderate satisfaction. But when, after
having entered into a detailed explanation
of these strange events, his mother inquired
what course he would adopt in this con-
juncture, the young man raised his head,
and did not hesitate for an instant. He
declared simply, without effort and without
feeling, that the ruin of the Marquis did
not in any respect release him from his ob-
lio-ations to his daughter, and he was ready
now "as he had ever been, to fulfil his en-
gagement.

" I expected nothing less of you," re-
plied Madame de Vaubert, with affected
pride, "you are my noble son. But, un-
fortunately, this is not all. The Marquis,
to save his possessions, has determined to
marry his daughter to Bernard."

" Well, mother," returned Raoul, with-
out discovering any emotion, "if M'lle de
La Seigliere believes that she can with-
draw her hand from mine, without forfeit-
ing her honor, she is free ; but I shall not
cease to believe myself engaged to her un-
til she first indicates her pleasure to the
contrary."

" You are a noble heart," exclaimed
the baroness, with an expression of well
feigned joy, who perceived that her desire
was about to be accomplished. " Write,
then, to M'lle de La Seigliere, to that ef-
fect. Be manly, but still affectionate,
that they may not suspect that you have,
in writing, any other purpose than to ac-
quit your conscience. This done, what-
ever may be the consequence, you will
have honorably fulfilled the duty of a
faithful lover and a gallant knight."

Without more delay, Raoul sat down to
his desk, and on a sheet of elegant paper,
which he had purchased at Paris, scented
with musk, and stamped with the arms of
his house, wrote the following lines, to
which the baroness, after inspection, gave
her maternal approbation, although she
would have desired to see more passion and
tenderness. Thus hostilities were about to
commence. In the hands of the crafty
baroness, that sheet of paper, emblazoned
and perfumed, with its fiist page covered
with a beautiful hand writing, after the
English style, was nothing else than a
bomb, which, thrown into the fort, must,
almost certainly, produce the result which
she had foreseen and upon which she had
long calculated : —

" Mademoiselle :

I have just arrived, and learn, at the
same time, the revolution which has taken
place in your circumstances and pros-
pects, and the new dispositions which M.
your father, has thought proper to make
to restore to you the heritage of his an-
cestors, of which the unexpected return
of the son of his former farmer has de-
prived him. Whether, to these ends,
M. the Marquis, has properly taken it
upon himself to absolve two hands and
two hearts long since, before God, united,
God shall judge ; I will not venture to
pronounce my opinion. It does not be-
come poverty to be presuming, or to weigh
itself with wealth. I feel bound, however,
by my honor, and still more by my love, to

1850.]

Mile de La

Seigliere.

131

declare to you, Mademoiselle, that, if, in
this arrangement, you do not share the
sentiments of M. your father, and do not
think, like him, that plighted faith is an
empty word, it will give me as much hap-
piness to share with you my modest com-
petence, as you yourself would have found in
sharing with me your luxury and opulence.
After this avowal, of which 1 trust you will not
do me the injustice to suspect the sincerity,
I will not add a word ; in your hands alone,
for the future, rests the decision of your
lot and mine. If you repulse my humble
offering, receive these letters which no
longer belong to me ; I will suffer without
complaint or murmur. But if, on the con-
trary, you shall consent to come and bless
my life and my fireside, retm-n to me these
precious pledges ; I will press them with
joy and gratitude to a faithfid and devoted
heart, which awaits only your response to
learn whether it shall Hve or die.

"Raoul."

Brought back thus violently to a sense
of the reality, Helen hesitated no more
than Raoul had done. After recovering
from the kind of stupor into which the pe-
rusal of these few lines had thrown her,
she hastened to her chamber, and resolutely
suppressing her dream of an hour, — a ray
of happiness extinguished as soon as it
broke, a flower cut down at the veiy mo-
ment of blossoming — took her pen to write
and sign herself with her own hand, the
death warrant of her future happiness ; but
wanting courage for this, she contented
herself with putting her letters into an
envelope and sending them immediately to
Raoul. When she had done this, she cov-
ered her face with her hands and barst into
tears, very different, alas, from those she
had shed in the morning. Meanwhile, un-
der the melancholy of a vague and ill-de-
fined regret, she very soon began to feel in
her bosom the waking of a deep and boding
disquietude. In reading the billet of M.
de Vaubert she had distinctly compre-
hended but one thing ; it was, that the
young man recalled her to her solemnly
plighted faith. Her conscience was touch-
ed, and she neglected the rest. Once ap-
peased by the sacrifice, by which also her
mind had recovered its calmness and wonted
clearness, she recalled to mind, one by one,
the expressions of the letter of her betroth-
ed upon which her thoughts had not at first

rested, but which had nevertheless left an
unpleasant and somewhat confused impres-
sion. Suddenly, her recollections becom-
ing more and more distinct, she drew Ra-
oul's letter from her belt, where she had
placed it as if to defend and protect her
heart, and after having re-read it atten-
tively, after having weighed each word and
sounded each phrase to discover aU its
meaning, Mile de La Seigliere read it
still again; then, passing imperceptibly
from surprise to reflection, she ended by
falling into a profound reverie.

Hers was a pure spirit, a pious heart, a
spotless soul, which had never touched,
even with the tips of its wings, the pollu-
tion of the world. She believed in good,
naturally, spontaneously, and had no sus-
picion of evil. In a word, such was her
ingenuous innocence that she had not even
suspected the truth, good faith and disin-
terestedness of Madame de Vaubert her-
self. Nevertheless, since the installation
of Bernard, she had felt that there was
passing around her something equivocal
and mysterious. Although, by nature,
neither curious nor distrustful, she felt a
strange foreboding, especially as she per-
ceived the changed and forbidding humor
of her father, who had ever been, even dur-
ing his exile, cheerful, smUing, and free
from anxiety. She was astonished at the
sudden disappearance of Raoul and his
prolonged absence, which had never been
satisfactorily explained ; she had not failed
to remark the sudden change which, dating
from the departure of Raoul and the arri-
val of Bernard, had been operated in the
every-day habits and appearance of the
Marquis and the baroness ; in fine, she had
sometimes asked herself, in her moments of
doubt and perplexity, how it could be that
the young soldier, in the vigor of life,
should consent, for so long a time, to oc-
cupy a humiliating and precarious position,
without an effort to ensure his independ-
ence, as would naturally be expected of a
character apparently so proud and ener-
getic. What had passed .? Helen did not
know, but certainly something strange had
taken place which they had studied to con-
ceal. The letter of the young baron was
a ray of light in the darkness of the night.
By dint of reflection, if she did not divine
the whole truth in all its extent, there ap-
peared to her a luminous point as it w ere
which, though scarcely perceptible, dire cte

132

M'Ue de La

SeiglUre.

[Feb.

her in her investigations. Once upon her
way, Helen recollected some unfinished
sentences which escaped old Stamply dur-
ing his last hours, and which she had at
the time vainly endeavored to interpret ;
she recalled, in all its details, the warmth
of the reception with which the return of
Bernard had been welcomed, after the cold-
ness with which the old age of his father
had been visited. In short, she held up
the letter of Raoul as a light, before which
were promenaded all the incidents which
had signalized the sojourn of Bernard, and
upon which she had, up to the present time,
exhausted all her efforts in vain, in endeav-
oring to lift the veil and pierce through the
dark obscurity. From episode to episode
she proceeded, till she finally asked herself
why, for a week or more, the baroness had
not visited the chateau, and why Raoul had
sent her the letter instead of presenting
himself in person } and finally, coming
down to the conversation which she had a
few hours since held with her father, her
blood mounted to her cheek, she rose
proudly from her seat, and with a firm step
went in quest of the Marquis.

At the same time, seated by the side of a
small table, our Marquis, while waiting for
his dinner, was occupied with soaking some
biscuit in a glass of good old Spanish wine
which sat before him, and although his
pride had been cruelly wounded, he never-
theless felt a good appetite, and was in
that state of comfortable satisfaction which
one experiences after having undergone a
painful operation which has been for a long
time a subject of dread. He had finished
with the baroness, was nearly assured as
to the disposition of his daughter, and as
to the assent of Bernard, about that he did
not allow himself any trouble. Although,
as the Marquis himself has said, his expe-
rience in matters of sentiment was rather
limited, yet he understood himself well
enough to have perceived for some time
that the hussar was by no means insensible
to the charms of his daughter ; besides,
where was the son of a peasant who would
not deem himself especially fortunate in
being allowed to mingle his blood with that
of his ancient lords. Upon this point,
therefore, the Marquis was tranquil ; he
was only troubled to find that his daugh-
ter shoidd yield with so little resistance.
The idea that a La Seigliere could have a

Stamply, afilicted him beyond measure ;
this was the dregs of his bitter cup. ' Let
the hand join in such an alliance, but God
forbid that the heart should follow ! ' mut-
tered he indignantly to himself. To ba-
lance this, he derived the greatest satisfac-
tion at the thought of the figure which
Madame de Vaubert and her great booby
of a son would play in their little manor.
He rubbed his hands, tipped over his chair,
frisked and gamboled like a cat at play,
and on calling to mind the remark which
the baroness liad so often repeated, that
Paris was worth many a mass, he seemed
ready to burst with delight at the prospect
that all this was about to wind up by no-
thing else than a mass — a marriafje mass.
He was in one of his transports of good
humor when the door opened, and Made-
moiselle de La Seigliere entered, so grave,
so stately, so truly royal, that the Marquis,
after rising to salute her, stood sUent in
her presence.

" My father," said the beautiful and
noble girl, in a tone somewhat musical but
calm, " like a good gentleman, answer me
frankly ; and whatever you may have to
reveal to me, be assured in advance, that
you will never find me untrue to the duties
and obligations which the care of your own
good name may impose upon me. Answer
me without evasion, I beg of you in the
name of the living God, in the name of
my dear departed mother, who now be-
holds and hears us."

" Ventre-saint-gris !" thought the Mar-
quis ; " this is no very promising begin-
ning."

" Father," pursued Helen, with confi-
dence, "by what title does M. Bernard
live in our midst V

" What a question !" cried the Marquis,
more and more alarmed, but still contri-
ving to keep his countenance. " By the
title of host and friend, I imagine. We
owe too much to the memory of his good
old father that any one should be surprised
at seeing the young man at my table. By
the way," added he, drawing from his
pocket a gold watch, to which was sus-
pended a chain loaded with rings, seals, and
divers other trinkets, " why can't the ras-
cal of a Jasmin ring the bell for dinner ; it
is past the time already. Do you see that
little jewel } Look at it. It does not ap-
pear of much value, and in fact it only

1850.]

^rile de La Seigliere.

133

cost six livres ; but I would not exchange
it for the crown diamonds. It has a his-
tory connected with it which I must tell
you. It was in seventeen hundred and "

" Father you have another history to
relate to me," said Helen, interrupting him
with a tone of authority, " a history more
secret, and in which is concerned a jewel
much more precious, — your honor. M.
Bernard is here by the title of host you
say, father ; it remains now to inform me
whether we are the recipients of his hospi-
tality or he of ours."

At these words, pronounced with such
emphasis, and followed by a most search-
ing look, the Marquis turned pale, and
sunk back in his chair.

" AU is lost," thought he with a look of
despair; "the enraged baroness has told
her the whole."

" In short, father," answered the un-
flinching daughter, crossing her arms upon
the back of the chair in which her father
was about fainting, " I ask you whether
we are in the house of M. Bernard or he
in ours .'"

Tired of deception, and convinced, be-
sides, that his daughter had been made ac-
quainted with the whole history of his
manoeuvres, the Marquis now thought
only of setting forth the truth in such a
manner as would give least oflFence to her
pride and self-respect.

"Well! faith!" cried the exasperated
Marquis, " if I must tell you, I don't know
myself. They have profited by my ab-
sence to make a code of infamous laws ;
M. de Bonaparte, who always hated me,
has contrived to have inserted in it a clause
on purpose to get me into trouble ; and he
has succeeded — the vile Corsican ! Some
maintain that this is Bernard's property,
and others affirm that it is mine ; some
that old Stamply gave it to me outright,
others that he only restored it condition-
ally. It is all at loose ends, you see ; all
in doubt. Des Tournelles knows not what
to think, and wSatan himself would waste his
time in trying to solve the difficulty. For
the rest, it is right that you should know
that it is that infernal baroness who is re-
sponsible for all this. You remember how
happily we lived together in our little nook
in Germany. But one day Madame de
Vaubert — mark the jade — took it into her
head to endeavor to restore me to my es-

tates, knowing very well all the while that
if she succeeded they would sooner or la-
ter fall to her son. She wrote me that my
old farmer was tortured with remorse,
that he begged of her to persuade me to
return, and protested that he could not die
in peace without restoring to me all my
property. I believed her, and took pity
on the troubled conscience of the honest
old man. I could not bear the thought
that I should be the cause of his ending
his days in misery. I came back with all
haste, and what did I discover ? Why,
that the worthy man had restored me no-
thing, but merely made me a present. At
least, so said my enemies ; I have enemies,
for as Des Tournelles says, what superior
person has not.? Meanwhile, Bernard,
whom every body supposed to be dead,
comes down upon us like a Siberian storm.
What then is to done ? M. de Bonaparte
has so skillfully managed matters that it is
impossible to tell. Is the property Ber-
nard's, or is it mine ? I do not know,
neither does he, nor even Des Tournelles
himself. Such is the history, and so
stands the question."

Helen had been brought up, as we have
before said, in utter ignorance of out door
affairs. She had never suspected that in-
terest plays so important a part in human
existence, which it almost entirely absorbs.
Having received, touching these matters, no
other instruction than that of her father —
whose ignorance was only equalled by his
complacency — the knowledge which He-
len had of French laws was about equal to
that which she had upon the legislation of
the Japanese ; but this child, so ignorant
here, possessed nevertheless, a higher sci-
ence, a science more certain and infallible
than that of the ablest jurisconsults or the
most consummate legists. In her heart and
incorruptible soul she had preserved, as pure
and luminous as she had received it, that
sense of right and wrong which God im-
plants as a ray of supreme intelligence in the
bosom of all his creatures. She knew no-
thing of the laws of men ; but the natural
and divine law was written on her heart as
upon tablets of gold, and no pestilential
wind, no evil passion, had blunted its keen-
ness, or tarnished its sacred characters. She
disengaged the truth without difficulty from,
the clouds with which her father had
sought to obscure it. She detected the

134

MHle de La SeiglUre,

[Feb.

net beneath the embroidery. While the
Marquis was speaking, Helen remained
standing, calm, pale, and unimpassioned.
When he had finished she went and leaned
upon the mantlepiece, and remained for
gome time silent, her fingers, meanwhile,
playing with the tresses of her luxuriant
hair, and she herself contemplating with
speechless fear the abyss into which she
was about to be precipitated, as a dove mor-
tally wounded, as she leisurely sails through
the azure sky, falls bloody, and still pal-
pitating, among the reeds of some stagnant
marsh.

" So, father," said she finally, without
changing her attitude or turning her eyes
towards the unfortunate old man, who
knowing no longer what saint to invoke,
strode up and down the room like a soul in
torment, " so that old man, when life end-
ed so sadly in abandonment and solitude,
had impoverished himself to enrich us !
Ah ! I thank God that he inspired me
with love for that generous old man ; for
but for me our benefactor would have died
with no friendly hand to close his eyes."

" Well, am I to blame for that .?" cried
the impatientand confused Marquis. " The
baroness has shown throughout the basest
ingratitude. Me, I loved him, the old
man ; I delighted in him ; I always found
him pleasant and agreeable. But the ba-
roness could not endure him. I often re-
monstrated— ' Madame la baronne, this old
Stamply is a worthy man ; he has done a
great deal for us ; we ought to treat him
with kindness and attention.' — If I had
listened to her I should have driven him
from the house. I would not have con-
sented to do such a thing, even at the re-
quest of the king himself."

" So," continued Helen, after a new si-
lence, " when this young man presented
himself armed with his rights, instead of
promptly restoring him his property, and
withdrawing as we ought to have done, we
have persuaded him by humiliating impor-
tunities, to permit us to live under his
roof ! Of your daughter, who know no-
thing of all this, you made an accomplice !"

" I should have gone," cried the Mar-
quis ; " Bernard himself will testify that I
was about to leave. It was the baroness
who prevented me ; she has deceived us
all ; she has ruined us."

Here, Mademoiselle de La Seigliere

turned proudly round, about to demand of
her father an explanation of the conversa-
tion which they had held together in that
same chamber a few hours before ; but her
words died upon her lips, her bosom heav-
ed, her countenance was suffused with a
deep blush, and falling into a chair, she
burst into tears. Was it only her revolt-
ed pride which troubled her .? and did not
her secret but hopeless love mingle its
sighs with those of her offended dignity .''
The most pure and virgin heart is still an
abyss whose depths cannot be sounded.
The despair of his daughter completely
unmanned the Marquis. He fell at her
feet, seized her by the hand, which he
covered with kisses, and wept like a child,
as he was.

" My daughter ! my child !" he exclaim-
ed, pressing her in his arms; "be calm,
indulge your old father ; do not let me die
of grief at your feet. We will depart if
you wish it. We will go and live like sa-
vages in the depths of the forest ; if you
prefer it, we will return to our old Ger-
many. What difference can it make with
me .'' What do I care for fortune if you
are happy. I will sell my watch and jew-
els to purchase flowers for my Helen. Go
wherever you please ; I will be content
wherever you are. I told you this morn-
ing that I had only a breath of life remain-
ing ; I told you what was not true. I am
as hale and hearty as ever. See what a
leg ! hard and plump as at twenty-five. I
have killed seven wolves this winter ; Ber-
nard can't keep up with me in a hunt ;
and I hope to live to attend the funeral of
the baroness, who is some fifteen or twenty
years younger than I — as she pretends ;
for I know her too well now to believe half
she says. Quick then, dry up these tears ;
a smile, a kiss, your arm in mine, and, gay
Bohemians, hurrah for poverty!"

" Ah ! dear father, I have found you
again !" exclaimed Helen with a thrill of
joy. As you say, we will leave ; we will
remain here no longer ; we have already
been here too long."

" Leave !" cried the astonished old man,
who now began to wish he could recal the
imprudent word which he had just now suf-
fered to escape him ; " leave !" he repeat-
ed with amazement. " Why, my poor
child, where under heaven shall we go.
Don't you know that I am in open war

1850.]

Wile de La

Seiglure.

135

with the baroness r and we have not now
even the poor privilege of starving at her
table and shivering by her fireside."

" If Madame de Vaubert repulses us,
we will go where God shall lead us," re-
plied Helen. " We shall then at all events,
feel a consciousness that we are in the path
of honor."

" Yes, yes," said M. de La Seigliere,
sitting down carelessly by the side of He-
leu, '4t is very well to go where God leads
us ; we couldn't have a better guide. But,
unfortunately, he who provides food and
clothing to the birds is not so liberal to-
wards Marquises. Let us go where God
sends us, — very fine sentiment, and pleas-
ing no doubt to young imaginations ; but
when one has travelled all day, and at night
has to go to sleep on the ground without
any supper, he begins to think the route
rather a rough one. If there was no body
but me to suffer I would long ago have put
on the sandals of the pUgrira, and taken
the staff of exile. But my dear Helen,
you are the one who would suffer. Have
done with these childish notions. Let us
talk reasonably and calmly, as two friends
ought to. Let us see if there is no way of
arranging this little affair to the satisfac-
tion of all parties. For example, the pro-
position which I made this morning "

" Would be your disgrace and mine,"
coldly interrupted Helen. " What would
the world say .? It would say that you had
sold your daughter. Poverty is no excuse
for dishonor. What would Madame de
Vaubert think .'' And what would he think
■ — that young man upon whom I have de-
lighted to bestow my attentions in the be-
lief that he was poor and disinherited :
While one would accuse me of treachery,
the other would suspect me of having de-
signs upon his fortune, and both would
despise me. Marquis de La Seigliere, be
resolute and cheerful ; yom- rank and pov-
erty demand it. What is there so fearful
in the lot which has fallen to us .? Are we
without an asylum. I will answer for Ma-
dame de Vaubert."

"But, ventre-saint-gris P'' cried the
Marquis, " I tell you that between me and
the baroness there is a deadly feud."

"The king will aid us," said Helen.
*'He must be good, just, and great, for he
is king."

" Ah, yes, the king, to be sure," mut-

tered the Marquis. " But he doubts whe"
ther he is under any obligations to me.
The era of great ingratitude dates from
the establishment of the monarchy."

" I will go and throw myself at his feet ;
I will say to him — Sire "

" He will refuse to hear you."
" Well, father," returned Helen, reso-
lutely, " your daughter will still be left to
you. I am young, and do not fear ; I love
you, and will take care of you."

"Poor child!" said the Marquis; kiss-
ing one after the other, her delicate hands.
" What can these pretty fingers do .'' They
couldn't support a canary bird. But to
return to my proposition of this morning ;
you say that that would involve our dis-
grace. I pretend to a sense of honor as
delicate as any one ; but I do not look up-
on this as you do, Helen. Let the world
go ; it is always carping. He is a fool who
cares for that. You fear that M. de Vau-
bert will charge you with infidelity. Upon
that point, give yourself no imeasiness.
The baroness is a cunning gipsy, and will
never suffer her son to be involved in our
ruin, you may depend upon that ; and
though I do not doubt the sincerity of
Raoul, between you and me, he is a great
noodle who suffers his mother to lead him
by the nose. As for Bernard, why should
he despise you } I admit that he could not
reasonably pretend to the hand of a La
Seigliere ; but passion abjures reason, and
he loves you, my daughter !"

" Does he love me V said Helen, with.
a tremulous voice.

" By heavens ! " exclaimed the Marquis,
"he adores you."

" How do you know that, father V mur-
mured Helen faintly, with a feeble effort at
a smile.

" No doubt of it," thought the Marquis,
suppressing a sigh of resignation, " mj
daughter loves the hussar."

" How do I know," cried he ; "I am
not so old yet as to have forgotten how
these matters used to go. When he told
over his battles, last winter, by the fire-
side, do you think the eyes of the baroness
moved him to such eloquence .'' And from
the day when you ceased to appear in the
salon, he was as still as a mouse, not three
words could you get from him at a time.
Do you suppose that I did not then under-
stand the cause of his silence and melaa-

186

ilf' //e de La Seigliere.

[Feb.

cboly ? Have not I seen his countenance
light lip whenever you made your ap-
pearance ? And when he mounted Roland
at the risk of his life, think you love was
not at the bottom of his bravery ? I tell
you he adores you ; and, moreover, were he
a son of France, however high in station, he
could not conceal his passion."

The Marquis paused, but kept his eye
on his daughter, wlio had listened atten-
tively That mysterious impulse which
she had before felt, but endeavored to sup-
press, again stirred in her heart, and there
she stood, silent and pensive, forgetful that
she had just riveted the chain which bound
her forever to Raoul, and unconsciously
abandoning herself to that insensible cur-
rent which was bearing her towards the
shore where chanted youth and love.

" The thing is done ; she loves him,"
said the Marquis to himself, and in the ex-
cess of his delight began to rub his hands,
when the door of the salon suddenly opened
with a slam and Madame de Vaubert pre-
cipitated herself like a rocket, into the
apartment, followed by Raoul, stiff and re-
served.

" Come, my dear noble child," cried the
baroness, stretching out both her arms to-
wards Helen. " Come, let me press you
to my heart. Ah ! how well did I know,"
added she with the most melting tender-
ness, covering her forehead and cheeks at
the same time with kisses, "how well did
I know that between wealth and poverty
your dear soul would never hesitate ! My
son, embrace your wife ; my daughter, em-
brace your husband ; you are worthy of
each other."

Suiting the action to the word, she gent-
ly drew Helen towards Raoul, who respect-
fully kissed her hand.

" Do you see. Marquis," continued the
baroness with increased tenderness ; "do
you see their transports } Tell me now,
had you a heart of brass, had you been
nursed in your infancy by a bear, could
you have had a heart so unfeeling as to
break such charming bonds ? It is not
your good name alone, which, you see, is
at stake, but the happiness of these two
noble creatures."

" Faith !" muttered the Marquis to him-
self, whose stupefaction we will not attempt
to depict ; " here is a pretty fix. Plague
take the baroness."

" Monsieur le Marquis," said Raoul ad-
vancing, and freely tendering his hand,
" revolutions have left me but a limited for-
tune, but the little I have is at your service."

" Monsieur de Vaubert," said Helen,
"you are very generous."

" Magnanimous children !" exclaimed
the baroness. " Marquis you are affected,
you are about weeping ; why do you try to
suppress such noble affections ? Your
knees tremble ; your heart is almost burst-
ing. Let nature speak out. Pray do not
torture yourself in this way. Your arms are

voluntarily opening to receive Raoul,

embrace your father," added she, quickly
turning to the young baron, and pushing
him into the reluctant arms of the Mar-
quis, while she looked with intoxication
upon the awkward ceremony. " And we
too, my old friend, we will be reconciled,"
cried she, rushing into the Marquis' arms.

" We will," said the Marquis mechani-
cally.

" Baroness," said the Marquis, in an un-
der tone, " I don't exactly see where you
are coming to, but I fear you are getting
us again into some of your infamous plans ! "

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the baroness ;
" always ready with a joke."

" Bernard, Helen, and you too, my old
friend," continued the baroness, who had
not yet fully executed her plan of opera-
tions, " in receiving you, all of you, again
into the same affectionate regard, and the
same constant solicitude — if 1 may believe
my own heart — the manor of Vaubert will
become the abode of peace, happiness, and
mutual affection ; we shall realize there the
sweetest and most enchanting dream which
ever ascended from earth to heaven. We
shall be poor in this world's goods, it is
true ; but we shall be rich in the treasure
of united hearts, and the spectacle of our
humble, but blissful fortune, will become
the en\'y of luxury and opulence. What
can ever harm you. Marquis ? Love and
affection will watch over your declining
years, and make you forget your misfor-
tunes. Loved, cherished, honored, ca-
ressed, you will not feel the loss of your
property, and will be astonished that you
should have ever thought of regaining it at
the price of your honor."

After hazarding a few objections, which
Raoul, the baroness, and Helen, all uni-
ted in removing, and cast about, in vain,

1850.]

M'lle de La

Seiglkre.

137

for some loop-hole by which to escape, feel-
ing himself fairly caught —

" Well ! ventre-saint-gris ! so let it
be," cried the Marquis, with the gesture of
a man who knows the game is lost, but
means to make out a good cause. " My
daughter will be a baroness, and that old
rogue of a Des Tournelles, will never have
the satisfaction of seeing a La Seigliere es-
pouse the son of a clown."

It was furthermore decided at this sit-

ting, (the baroness would not suffer any de-
lay,) that the Marquis should immediately
sign the deed of release to Bernard, and
that the old gentleman and his daughter
should, at once, retire to the castle de Vau-
bert, where the young couple were to be
married without delay. Whereupon the
baroness took the arm of the Marquis,
Raoul offered his to Helen, and aU four
went to dine at the manor.

XIII.

But what has become of Bernard, while
the events which we have just described
were going on at the chateau .' With head
and heart occupied with a single image, he
has been riding leisurely along the paths
which border on the Clain. He is in love ;
and in his free and noble nature, which had
not suffered in its tone, by contact with the
world, love did not long remain in the form
of a vague longing, a floating dream, a
mysterious suffering, but it soon became a
passion, ardent, energetic, vital and pro-
found. Bernard constituted a part of that
active and turbulent generation, whose
youth rolled away in the camp, and had not
had time to dream and love. At the age
of seven-and-twenty, that yet morning horn-
when the young of our listless generation
have foolishly wasted their energies in idle-
ness and dissipation, he had known only the
absorbing passion for glory. It may easily
be conceived, therefore, that if the germ
of a serious love should fall into his heart,
the seed would quickly swell and unfold it-
self, and then would spring up a vigorous
shoot in a fecund and virgin soil. He saw
Helen and loved her. And how could he
have done otherwise. She was endowed
with grace and beauty, was intelligent
though artless, was marked with every stamp
of nobility, and was free from its narrow
ideas and superannuated prejudices. With
aU the stately royalty of the lily, she ex-
haled its sweet and delicate perfume ; to
the poetry of the past, she joined the se-
rious instincts of the present. And this
noble and chaste creature, had met him
with open hand and smiling lips ! She had
told him of his old father, that she had
stood by the side of the old man's piUow,
instead of his absent son ; that she had re-

ceived his last adieus, and closed his dying
eyes. Duiing his life-time she had been
accustomed to sit by his side at the table,
and by the fire-side. At the story of his
own sufferings and hardships, her beautiful
eyes had been moistened with tears, and he
had seen them kindle at the recital of his
battles. How then could he not love her }
He had loved her at first, as with a passion
which he did not know, restlessly but de-
lightfully ; but when she came to absent
herself from his presence, as with a passion
which was without hope, silently and wild-
ly. It was at this period, that becoming
conscious of the true nature of his feelings
towards Helen, while at the same time he
was fully aware of his duty to himself, as a
man of honor and a child of the revolu-
tion, he was struck with fear. He saw
that, influenced by the charms which sur-
rounded him, he had been beguiled into the
acceptance of an equivocal position, that
the public might censure him, that his honor
might be compromised in the estimation of
his brothers-in-arms, and, that to extricate
himself from his embarrassment, he must
proceed to disposses and ruin the Marquis
and the daughter, whom he devoutly loved.
How could he resign himself to such a
course: — he, who had trembled at the
thought that they might some day leave of
then- own accord, and who of all things the
most dreaded to be left alone deserted in
his castle } If he loved Helen above all
things, it was not her alone that he loved.
Notwithstanding the old gentleman's petu-
lance and obstinacy, he f t hmself secretly
attracted towards the Marquis. He had
also contracted a kind of affection for that
happy and quiet domestic life, the ease,
elegance and comfort of which he had

138

MV/e de La Seigliere.

[Feb.

never before imagined. The idea of es-
pousing Helen, — an idea which reconciled
every thing, and to which the old gentle-
man himself did not object, Bernard had
not even conceived. Beneath an unpolish-
ed exterior, an energetic character, and an
ardent love, were hidden all the delicacy and
reserve of a timid and confiding soul. The
consciousness, which he had, of his rights
rather humbled than emboldened him ; he
had no confidence in, and placed no reli-
ance upon wealth merely as such. Mean-
while, within a week, every thing within as
well as around him, had undergone a
change. While around him the trees were
clothing themselves in their richest ver-
dure, Spring, with its flowers, was opening
in his heart. Helen had re-appeared, and
her re-appearance was to him what the re-
turn of Spring is to the earth. The pres-
ence of Helen recovered, the recent con-
versations which he had had with the Mar-
quis, the cordial and almost excessive at-
tention which the old gentleman had of
late shown him ; a few words which had
escaped liim on the morning of that very
day, all these, with the soft breezes of
Spring, the odor of the blooming hedges,
and the joyous rays of the sun, filled Ber-
nard with an inexplicable something, which
troubled while it charmed.

In such a state of mind Bernard turned
his horse about, and started on a gallop for
the castle — for the night was already de-
scending from the hills into the valley —
when, in passing over the bridge, his eye
fell upon the little caravan which was ma-
king toward the manor of Vaubert. He
reined up his horse, and at once discovered
Helen, through the darkening twilight,
leaning upon the arm of the young baron.
Bernard was not acquainted with Raoul,
and knew nothing of the projected union ;
nevertheless his heart fell. He was sorry
also to see that the intimacy between the
Marquis and the baroness had been renew-
ed. After having followed the two couple
a long time with a look somewhat chagrin-
ed, he again turned his horse into the road,
returned slowly to the chateau, dined alone,
counted sadly the hours, and felt as though
that evening of solitude — the first he had
passed since his return — would never end.
He walked up and down in the park for
some time, then retired to his chamber, and
sat looking; out of the window till he saw

the Marquis and his daughter, whose voice
he caught in the stillness, pass like two
shawdows, under the foliage, into the chateau.
The next day, at breakfast, he waited in
vain for Helen and her father. Jasmin,
whom he interrogated, replied that they
had gone one hour since, to the manor of
Vaubert, saying to the servants that they
should not be back to dinner. During this
day, which rolled away even more slowly
than had the previous evening, Bernard ob-
sei'ved that the servants were unusually
busy, passing to and fro between the cha-
teau and the manor, as if engaged in
preparations for some new installation. He
feared some frightful misfortune. For a
moment he was tempted to go directly to
the manor ; but for its occupant he felt an
invincible repugnance, almost of horror,
and had always kept away. He little sus-
pected however that there was to be forged
the bolt that was soon to strike him. He
had advanced half way when he discovered
throuo;h the silver foliage of the willows,
upon the other bank of the Clain, Helen
and Raoul walking together, and the demon
of jealousy began to gnaw in his bosom.
He was kind and generous, but impetuous
and terrible. He returned to his chamber,
took down his pistols, examined them
with a wild and cloudy look, snapped them,
to see if they would be true, and then, as
if ashamed of his folly, threw himself upon
his bed, and, though of a lion heart, wept
like a child. Why.? Still he did not
know. He suffered without knowing the
cause of his suffering, just, as the day be-
fore he had not known the source of that
inexplicable happiness which troubled
while it charmed. The evening was less
stormy. At nightfall, he took to wander-
ing in the park, awaiting the return of the
Marquis. The breeze was fresh and invig-
orating, and reflection had somewhat calmed
his spirits. " Nothing in my life is chang-
ed," thought he ; and little by little he re-
turned to his happier dreams. He had
been sitting some minutes on a stone seat,
in the same place, where, so many times,
with Helen, in the late autumn, he had
watched the yellow leaves as they fell and
whirled about above their heads, when he
heard the sand crush under a light step ;
and the rustling of a dress along the walk,
bordered with hawthorn in flower ; and on
raising his eyes, discovered Helen ap-

1850.1

AfV/e de La Seigliere.

139

preaching him, pale, sad, and more serious
even than was her wont.

" Monsiem* Bernard, I was looking for
you," said she, at once, in a tone full of
sweetness.

In fact, Helen had escaped in the hope
to meet him. Knowing that there re-
mained but two nights more for her to pass
under a roof which was not her father's,
and foreseeing very clearly that all rela-
tions between her and the young soldier
were about to be broken off, she had
sought him, not from weakness, but rather
from a proud sentiment of self-respect,
that, should he, as he doubtless would, dis-
cover the craft and intrigue which had been
sporting with his fortune, she might guard
against the suspicion, on his pait, that she
had been an accomplice therein. She
could not dissemble, however, that before
withdrawing entirely, she had toward him
certain obligations to fulfil ; that she owed
at least a formal adieu to a host so deli-
cate that she had never suspected his
rights — at least some reparation to the
magnanimous man, whom, in her ignor-
ance she had suffered herself to suspect of
servility. She felt also, in short, that it
was her duty to inform him of her contem-
plated departure, that he might be spared
mortification if not grief.

" Monsieur Bernard," continued she, as
she took a seat by his side, with an emo-
tion which she did not seek to conceal,
" in two days my father and I shall have
left this park and chateau; they do not
belong to us. I have felt unwilling to de-
part without thanking you for your gene-
rosity and kindness toward me and my fa-
ther, and assuring you that they will never
be forgotten, by me, to the latest hour of
my life. Indeed, so great has been your
kindness and generosity, that till yesterday
I had never suspected that you were the
owner of these estates."

" You leave. Mademoiselle, you de-
part .^" said Bernard, half stunned with as-
tonishment. " What have I done ? Per-
haps, unconsciously, I may have off'ended
you or your father .-' I am only a soldier ;
I know nothing of the world — but leave !
you shall not leave."

" It must be so," said Helen ; " our
honor and yours require it. If my father,
on leaving, does not discover towards you
the respect and affection which he ought, I

I beg you will pardon him. He is old,
and has the weaknesses incident to age.
Do not lay anything to his charge ; I feel
myself rich enough in gratitude to add his
debt to my own, and discharge them both."

" You leave !" repeated Bernard. " But
if you leave. Mademoiselle, what will be-
come of me .'' I am alone in the world ; I
have neither parents, family, nor friends ;
on my return I tore myself from the only
friends which I had, that I might spend my
life with you. To remain here with you
and your father, I have repudiated my
caste, abjured my religion, deserted my
standard, torn myself from my companions
in arms. Not one of them would now con-
sent to shake my hand. If it concerns
your honor that you go, why did you not
do it when I first returned } My head and
heart were then full of hatred and indigna-
tion ; I wished revenge. I was ready for
it. I detested your father, and despised
the whole race of the nobility. Why did
you not go then t Why did you not yield
me up the place then ? Why was I urged
to compromise and confound our rights,
and form a single family .? And now, that
I have forgotten whether I dwell under
your father's roof, or he under mine, now
that I have learned to love what I then de-
tested, and to honor what I then despised,
now that I am shut out from the rank in
which I was born, now that a new heart
and a new soul has been created within
me, you are going to leave, to fly from and
abandon me !"

" And so too," resumed Bernard, in a
sorrowful tone, raising his burning head,
which he had held for some time Jbetween
his hands; "and so, too, I shall have
brought into your existence nothing but af-
fliction. I, who would gladly give my life
to spare you a single pang. I shall have
fallen upon you like a stone, which darts
down and destroys, who would have freely
poured out my blood to add one new joy to
the sum of your existence. Here you
were quiet, happy, and blooming as the
lily, in the midst of your ancestors' do-
mains ; and was it for me to retuin, as it
were, for that sole purpose, from the
depths of those arid plains, to initiate you
into the sorrows of poverty ; was it for me,
who would joyfully return into the icy ex-
ile from which I came to leave you my por-
tion of the sunshine of life .^"

140

M'lle de La Seiglkre,

[Feb.

" Poverty does not frighten me," said
Helen, "I know it well ; I have lived in
it."

"Still, Mademoiselle," continued Ber-
nard, almost beside himself, " if, urged by
despair, as in war by danger, I should dare
say to you what I have not yet dared to
say to myself; if, in my turn, I should
venture to propose to compromise and con-
found our rights and be as one family, if
encouraged by your favor and kindness,
and emboldened by the almost paternal af-
fection which your father has shown me of
late, I should so far forget myself as to of-
fer you a trembling hand, doubtless you
would reject it and, indignant, not without
reason, that a love so humble should seek
the object of its devotion in one so noble,
would overwhelm me with your contempt.
But could you forget, as I would forget with
you, that I have ever had any pretensions
to the heritage of your family, could you
continue to believe, as I could believe with
you, that opulence was yours and poverty
mine, and I should then say to you in an
humble tone : — I am poor and without in-
heritance, do with me as you think fit ;
guard me in some retired corner, where I
can only see and admire you in silence ; I
will never annoy or importune you; you
shall never find me in your way save when
you call me ; at a word, a gesture, a look,
I will seek my retirement; — perhaps, then,
— perhaps, then," he repeated earnestly
and inquiringly, " you would not reject me,
but would have pity on me, and that pity
I would bless and be more proud of than of
the sceptre of a kingdom."

" Monsieur Bernard," said Helen, rising
with dignity, " I do not know of a heart so
noble that it may be compared with yours ;
I do not know of a hand which would not
be honored by the troth of yours. Here
is mine ; farewell ! It is the farewell of a
friend who wUl remember you in all her
prayers."

" Ah !" cried Bernard, as he dared for
the first and last time to press to his lips
the white hand of Helen, " my life goes
with you ! Tell me, noble girl, what is to
become of you and your old father."

"We are provided for," replied Helen,
without thinking that, in the hope of some-
what assuaging his anxiety, she was about
to strike him a most cruel blow, "M. de
Vaubert is generous, he will find as much

happiness in sharing with me his humble
fortune as I should have found in dividing
with him my opulence."

"Do you love him.''" demanded Ber-
nard.

"I believe I have told you," replied
Helen hesitatingly, " that we were brought
up together in exile."

" Do you love him V repeated Bernard.

" His mother almost made me forget the
loss of mine, and we were betrothed in early
infancy."

" Do you love him .^" said Bernard still
again.

" He has my faith," responded Helen.

" Farewell, then," added Bernard with
the resignation of despair. And again and
again he murmured, as with his eyes he
followed Helen, who was wending her way
towards the bridge, also with a heavy
heart, " Adieu, enchanting dream !"

The next day was the one fixed upon for
the signature of the deed of release. To-
wards noon, the Marquis, Helen, Madame
de Vaubert, and a notary who had been
summoned expressly from Poitiers, found
themselves assembled in the great salon of
the chateau, which, from its disorder, gave
abundant evidence of the approaching de-
parture. They waited only for Bernard.
He entered very soon, booted and spurred,
and whip in hand, — much as he was when
he appeared at the castle for the first time
after his return. The baroness watched
him from the moment of his entrance with
the utmost alarm, but no one could have
divined from his calm and passionless
countenance what was passing in his heart.
After reading the deed, which he had him-
self drawn up, to those present, the Mar-
quis took his pen, and carefully holding
away his copious and nicely ironed ruffle
shirt bosom, signed it without a frown, and
with exquisite politeness handed to Ber-
nard the paper duly marked by the gov-
ernment stamp.

" Monsieur," said he, with a polite smile,
" this will restore you beyond a doubt to
the sioeat of M. your father."

Bernard took the paper with a soldier's
abruptness, tore it into four pieces, thrust
them into his pocket, buttoned up his coat,
and retired immediately without saying a
word, to the utter consternation of Madame
de Vaubert.

" Eh .'' ventre-saint-gris /" said the

1850.]

MHle de La Seigliere.

141

Marquis, rubbing his hands. " Lucky day
this; only cost us a million."

" Is it possible .^" thought Madame de
Vaubert. " Can I be deceived .? Is not
this Bernard the worthless and contempti-
ble fellow I have taken him to be .?"

"My God!" said Helen to herself,
"how sad he looks !" and her heart shud-
dered as she thought of the future.

The preparations for the departure con-
sumed nearly the entire day. The Mar-
quis himself was quite merry, and busied
himself with taking down the family por-
traits, every one of which was honored with
some jocose remark. But the baroness
was not by any means in a meny mood.
Helen occupied herself in picking up her
books, embroideries, albums, battledores,
and the like. Bernard had, immediately
after the signature of the deed which re-
stored him to his rights, mounted his horse
and did not return till late in the evening.
As he was passing through the park he dis-
covered Helen sitting in an open window,
and remained a long time contemplating
her, concealed by the friendly foliage of a
chestnut.

Helen passed that whole night without
sleep ; now leaning over the balcony and
gazing by the light of the stars upon the
beautiful shades which she was about to
quit forever, and now wandering around
her apartment and bidding adieu, in her
heart, to this dear home of her youth.
Overcome by fatigue, she threw herself, as
the day was already beginning to dawn, on
the bed. After an hour of heavy and dis-
turbed slumber she was aroused by a fright-
ful uproar. She sprang to the window,
and, although it was not the season for the
chase, she saw all the huntsmen of the
chateau assembled, some on horseback
blowing their horns as if they would crack,
and others holding the impatient pack
which shook the morning air with its yelps
and cries. Helen was doubting whether
all the noise was to celebrate the day of her
departure from the chateau, or what was
the cause of such a boisterous serenade,
when Bernard came rushing into the midst
of the crowd mounted on the fiery Roland,
to the visible wonder of the huntsmen.
Dexterously managing the ardor of the
dangerous animal, after plunging and
prancing about the park, he reined him up
under the windows out of which Helen was

gazing, paler than death ; he then threw a
glance towards the young girl, and after
respectfully raising his cap, let loose the
reins, put spurs to his horse, and left the
chateau like an arrow, followed at a dis-
tance by the whole pack, huntsmen and
hounds, which vied with each other in
noise.

" Oh, how unfortunate !" murmured
Helen, wringing her hands in despair ; " I
fear some terrible mishap."

She would have ran after him, but Ro-
land went like the wind. It had been
agreed the evening before that Raoul and
his mother should come the next morning
and conduct the Marquis and his dau2;hter
to their new home. As Helen was passing
out of the door of her chamber, she met
Jasmin, who presented her, upon a silver
plate, a letter in an envelope. Helen hur-
riedly returned, broke the seal, and read
these lines, evidently written in haste.

"Mademoiselle: >■ ■ ■■

" Do not go ; remain here. What can
1 do with this fortune } I could only be-
stow it in charity, and you, in this, would
dispose of it far better than I — more accep-
tably to the world, and more in accordance
with the duties of religion. My only
prayer is that in all your bem factions I
may be considered as uniting ; this will be
my passport to heaven. Be not concern-
ed for me, I am by no means without re-
sources. I have yet my rank, my epau-
lettes, and my sword. 1 shall return to the
service ; — no longer the same flag, it is
true, but it is still the flag of France.
Adieu, Mademoiselle, I love and respect
you ; and though you would have consent-
ed to embarrass me with a million , I pardon
and bless you because you loved my old
father. "Bernard."

Within the same was enclosed this auto-
graph win :

*' I give and bequeath to Mademoiselle
de La Seigliere all that I possess on
earthy as her legiti?nate property.

" Done at my chateau of La Seigliere^
this 25th day of April, 1819.

" Bernard Stamply."

When she came down stairs, where the
baroness and her son had already arrived,

142

MHle de La Seighere.

[Feb.

Helen was so pale that the Marquis cried
out with alarm, " What is the matter ?"
while Raoul and his mother eagerly crowd-
ed around her. But the young girl declined
their offered attentions, and remained cold
and mute.

" Ah !" said the Marquis, "does your
heart fail you so soon ?"

Helen made no reply. The hour fixed
for their departure was fast approaching.
The baroness was in continual fear lest
Bernard should appear and interpose some
obstacle, and took no pains to dissemble
her impatience. On his part, the young
baron was by no means transported with
enthusiasm. Silent and distracted, Helen
seemed neither to see nor to hear anything
of what was passing, and the Marquis did
not discover his usual vivacity. " By the
way, said he, abruptly, " this rogue of a
Bernard has given us a specimen of his
cloth this morning."

'' How so. Marquis.'"' enquired the bar-
oness, whose ears always caught the sound
when Bernard's name was mentioned.

" Would you believe it, Madame la bar-
oness ? this son of a clown did not wait for
us to go before he took possession. By
sunrise this morning he started for a chase,
followed by my whole pack and all my
huntsmen."

Here Helen, who had stepped to the
front door, uttered a shrill cry, and fell
into the arms of her father, who was just
in season to save her. Roland had just
rushed along the main entrance like an ar-
row shot from the bow. The saddle was
empty, and the stirrups were beating
against the lacerated sides of the courser.

Two months after the death of Bernard,
which w^as naturally attributed to the rash
and reckless daring of the hussar, an inci-
dent of quite a different nature occupied
the attention of all, high and low, old and
young, in the city and its environs ; it was
the entrance as a novice of Mademoiselle
de La Seigliere into a convent of the order
of the daughters of Saint Vincent de

Paule. It was a matter of much difference
of opinion ; some saw in it only the result
of a fervent piety and a desire to do good ;
while others suspected that love to God
might not be the only love which led to
such a step. And these latter were near-
er the truth ; but no one save the Marquis
knew that such was the case. This
knowledge was the source of his greatest
trouble ; the thought that his daughter be-
yond a single doubt loved the hussar, pois-
oned the whole of his remaining existence.
Nevertheless, as with the will of Bernard
in hand, he di-eamed of his chances to the
succession, he could not but allow that the
boy had acquitted himself handsomely.
He contrived to live as in the past, the ab-
sence of his daughter working no change
in his habits. He died of fright in the
year 1830, caused by a bevy of roguish
boys who, gathered under his windows one
night, broke a few scattering glasses, and
sung the Marseillaise. Our young baron
married into the family of a rich tallow-
chandler, and spends his time for the most
part in gallanting his not very handsome
wife, and some half a dozen feminine an-
tiquities who stand to him, by marriage, in
the relation of sisters. His father-in-law
boasts of his titles, and twits him of the
money they have cost him ; his wife calls
him Monsieur le baron, with not very un-
frequently a qualifying adjective which is
not classed among the terms of endear-
ment. Madame de Vaubert is still living.
She passes her days mostly alone at the
chateau de La Seigliere, and by night
dreams that she is changed into a cat, be-
fore which the castle, in the shape of a
mouse, is constantly hopping, without how-
ever, her being able to seize upon it. Af-
ter the death of her father, sister Helen
disposed of all her property for the benefit
of the poor, and we are assured that the
castle itself, in accordance with the wishes
of Helen, will soon be converted into a
house of refuge for the indio-ent.

1850-]

Aspects of Nature.

143

ASPECTS OF NATURE.*

Alexander Von Humboldt is one of
the most respectable names in the annals
of natural science. Respectable is the
term ; but respectable in the highest sense.
An ardent student of nature for fifty to
sixty years, with opportunities, moreover,
as rare as his inclinations, he can scarce
be cited as the discoverer of a single
one of her leading laws. He has writ-
ten, too, as well as thought upon her in
every aspect ; written, perhaps, all that
he has thought. And all that he has
written he seems to have given to the
world, in every mode of publication — from
the academical memoir up to the illustra-
ted folio. Yet, the utmost a general judg-
ment may honestly award him, is this : that
he has written always intelligently, often
instructively, never profoundly. It is a
high eulogy, no doubt ; high, especially in
an age when, under the pretext of popular-
ity, literature is vulgarized to clap-trap, and
science degraded to quackery. But was
it all that might be expected from an intel-
lect at whose service the gods seem to have
vied to place every external advantage.
Was it all that might have been accom-
plished by the sixty years' labor of a man
commencing his career with a competent
education and a Teutonic frame ; prosecu-
ting it throughout without interruption by
sickness, without distraction by family,
without disturbance by passions ; personal-
ly visiting nature in all her contrasts of ap-
pearance ; witnessing man in all his condi-
tions of civilization ; in fine, the compan-
ion or correspondent of the mental elect of
the age ; the protected of kings ; and,
above all, the possessor from the outset of
an independent private fortune }

Yet it may well be that most of these
chcumstances have rather contributed to
propagate his fame than to fit him to de-
serve it better. Dr. Johnson thought a
man of rank who descended to even the
congenially idle exertion of writing poetry,

ought to be handsomly commended. How
much larger then should be the obligation
when he submits to the duress of fact, to
the drudgery of science ? Then the ab-
sence in Humboldt of the stronger passions,
as well as of the originative power of ge-
nius, naturally conduce to the same parti-
ality of appreciation among the learned.
He has, in fact, had no enemies, for the
same reason that he has had no followers.
He is one of those irreproachable medioc-
rities which, in philosophy as in society,
you hear everybody praise, because they
have not force enough to scorn the preten-
ders or to rival the truly great. They thus
escape condemnation, between critics and
competitors, as the bat escaped conscrip-
tion in the battle of the beasts and birds.
Not only this, but they oidinarily receive
the ostentatious panegyrics of the former,
and the patronising compliments of the
other. And both go alike to inflame the
sympathetic predilection of the general
public for the average order of intellect.
Hence we see Humboldt addressed famil-
iarly by speculators in canals or railroads ;
and ship-owners presume to honor him by
markino- their water-wagons of trade with
his name. This might be a compliment to
an Astor or even a Baring ; but who
would think of thus complimenting the
name of a Bacon, a Gallileo, or Napoleon ?
Besides, and, perhaps, above all the pre-
ceding elements in the aggregated reputa-
tion of Humboldt as a philosopher, was, at
least in the eyes or the echo of the multi-
tude, his pecuniary independence. Most
men, feeling unwilling to toil themselves,
unless for money, are apt to reason upon
the matter somewhat in this wise : Here is
a man with ample wealth, political distinc-
tion, and court honors at his connuand, and
who perseveringly foregoes all for the hard-
ships of a wandering, often the privations
of a savage life. What other could be the
motive of a course so uncommon than the

* Aspects of Nature. By Alexander Von Humboldt.

144

Aspects of Nature.

[Feb.

impulse of genius ? True, were the same
person poor, it would be obvious to see that
the same genius was eccentricity, if not insa-
nity ; for if it were genuine it would have
made him money. Alexander Von Hum-
boldt is, then, the greatest philosopher of the
age ; much as Thomas Macauley is the great-
est historian . And, in truth, though one may
question this somewhat circular reasoning,
we should incline, ourselves, to make a
commendatory conclusion from the same
premises. In fact, the real glory of this
noble character consists in what he has
aimed at, rather than what he has accom-
plished. And it may be a set-off to our
critical strictures to say, in conclusion,
that the life of Humboldt has contributed
quite as much to the dignity of science, as
science has really contributed to the fame
of Humboldt.

Moreover, the circumstance of affluence
was, perhaps, a drawback in reality, a pre-
ventive of deeper power. It is a magnet
that attracts the negative, which is the
fairer side of humanity, and disinclines
when it does not disqualify to penetrate be-
low the surface. But without knowing
man thoroughly, we cannot study nature
philosophically. Accordingly, the works
of Humboldt are a general comment upon
this truth. And the treatise we propose
to consider is a system of special signiti-
cance. It undertakes to depict the princi-
pal aspects of physical nature, in an isola-
ted, cursory, and merely critical manner.
It neglects all systematic attempt to co-or-
dinate the various views among themselves.
Above all, it foregoes the opportunity of
pointing out their co-relation with the his-
tory and progress of the human race. To
be sure, it expressly proffers no design of
this magnitude ; and, subscribed with ano-
ther name, might have fully satisfied ex-
pectation. Let us take it however, such
as it is ; it contains much to be read with
pleasure, and pondered with profit.

The subject is treated, severally, under
the heads — rather heterogeneous — of des-
erts ; the physiognomy of vegetables ; the
cataracts of the Orinoco, and the structure
and action of volcanoes in the various re-
gions of the earth.

Deserts — which are not to be confound-
ed with the wilderness — are of three or
four species ; determined in their character
and aspect by the cii'cumstances of climate,

soil, and elevation above the level of the
sea. Subject to these conditions they are
found alike in every zone of the earth.
Though peculiarly marked in each, yet
travellers, and Humboldt amongst them,
are accustomed to name them all indiffer-
ently, by the native appellations of each.
Thus, the vast, level, and treeless plains of
Missouri, of South America, of central
Asia, are mentioned, indiscriminately, as
prairies, plains, savannas, steppes, &c.,
according to the country or the caprice of
the writer. But the differences are not
merely essential in themselves, but reveal,
moreover, a principle of great importance
to note. We may venture, then, to divide
these varieties of desert into, 1st. Such as
have absolutely no vegetation at all ; 2d.
Such as vegetate slightly for a certain sea-
son of the year ; 3d. Such as are covered
the whole year, but only with a vegetation
of the grass species ; 4th. Such as present
a shrub vegetation, to the exclusion of ev-
ery other. The scale might evidently be
extended, according to the ascending mul-
tiplication of species ; and it is by doing so
that the classification would prove of the
high importance alluded to. For the pre-
sent subject, however, these four divisions
will suffice. Observing the appellation
which is native to the type of each descrip-
tion, they should be called in the order
stated, the Desert proper, the Llanos, the
Steppe, and perhaps the Copse.

The principal type, and perhaps sole in-
stance of the second, is the vast sand-ocean
which covers and curses the interior of Af-
rica to the extent of some three times the
superficial area of the Mediterranean sea.
Like the sea, too, the Sahara has its islands,
or oases; which are not merely foun-
tains of water, as is commonly believed,
perhaps from the similes of the poets, but
contain, also — though in consequence no
doubt of the moisture — districts more or
less considerable, of vigorous and various
vegetation. All around beside is a wide
and eternal waste, unrelieved by an in-
stance of vegetable, unmarked by a vestige
of animal life. The only exception to the
latter, is the track, scarce discernible,
though worn for a thousand generations, of
the caravan and the camel ; the latter of
which is aptly called the " Ship of the De-
sert" by the Orientals, through a popular
perception of the drear analogy suggested.

1850']

Aspects of Nature.

145

The origin of this complete sterility is as-
cribed by Humboldt to an irruption of the
ocean, in this case, the Atlantic, which tore
away not only the primeval vegetation, but
the very soil itself, from the surface of the
earth, and then, on retiring, left the deso-
lated region overspread with a suffocating
plam of sand. The barrenness thus pro-
duced, which was originally common to all
the species of desert, is perpetuated in that
of Africa by its position in the torrid zone.
There can be no vegetation, no devel-
opment of organic life, without moisture.
But neither rain nor dew is permitted to
light within the parched precincts of the
Lybian sands. The rays of the vertical
sun reflected with accumulating intensity
from the bare and burning plain, have the
effect of rarifying the atmosphere so as to
send it upwards iu perpendicular columns,
that dissolve the gathering vapors, and
devour the rushing clouds on their way.
By this natural ascension of the rarified air
in the direction of the lighter pressure, our
author also explains some other curious phe-
nomena. It had been long remarked that
smnnier insects were frequently met with
up the sides of tropical mountains beyond
the region of perpetual snow. Humboldt
himself observed even butterflies on the
summit of Chimborazo. It was certain
they would never have entered a climate so
fatally uncongenial of their own will or in-
stinct. The solution was, then, that they
had been floated thither forcibly by the
atmospheric current from the scorching
plain below. Another singular fact was
the deviation from the trade winds experi-
enced along the Atlantic in front of the
African coast, particularly between the
Canary and Cape Verde Islands. It was
the cool ocean an- rushing landward towards
the Sahara desert. And thus this wind,
long so perverse to the philosopher, as well
as still adverse to the mariner bound for
the New World, had its mysterious cause
many thousand of miles away, in a quite
opposite direction. The cause was no
other than the African desert in its pecu-
liar aridity and extent, which produce, by
the expansion described, an enormous and
insatiable gulph in the equilibrium of the
atmosphere ocean.

But why is the aridity thus peculiar to
Africa ? I'he Llanos on the opposite con-
tinent of South America, is equally within

TOL. V. NO. II. NEW SERIES.

the tropical regions, yet they are visited by
both dews and rains, and present accord-
ingly a degree of vegetation which lasts a
large portion of the year. This can be
owing but to a difference of climate or soil,
the latter, of course, including the con-
figuration of the country. The destructive
characteristics, in these particulars, of the
western desert, are enumerated by Hum-
bolt as follows : — " The comparatively
limited breadth of this continent, (South
America), intersected in a thousand ways
throughout the equinoctial regions to the
north of the equator ; its prolongation
towards the icy poles ; the ocean, with its
unbroken surface, swept over by the trade
winds; the flatness of the eastern coast;
the currents of very cold water which wash
the western, from the Straits of Magellan
along to Peru ; the numerous chains of
mountains cooled all over with springs, and
whose snow-covered smnmits soar beyond
the region of the clouds ; the abundance of
immense rivers which, through multiplied
meanderings, are observed to always seek
their outlet at the remotest point of the
coast; the deserts without sand, and con-
sequently less susceptible of being im-
pregnated with heat ; the forests of im-
penetrable thickness, which cover the
plains of the equator, watered under-
neath with a multitude of streams, and
which, in the parts of the country more
remote from the ocean and the mountains,
give rise to enormous masses of water, that
are either the product of their confluence
or the result of the luxuriant vegetation —
all these causes combine to produce, in the
lower parts of the American continent, a
climate contrasting singularly, in cool-
ness and humidity, with the temperature
of Africa. To these alone should we at-
tribute also that vegetation so vigorous, so
luxuriant, so sapful, and that foliage so co-
pious, which constitute the special charac-
ter of the New World."

The consequence of this state of the cli-
mate upon the South American desert is
the production of an abundant crop of
grass during the favorable season of the
year. With the annual return of the
drought, however, the Llanos assumes the
condition of the Sahara in all except the
sand. This dreary metamorphosis begins
with the sudden burning of the tall grass
into dust, the opening of the plain into
10

146

Aspects of Nature.

[Feb.

deep fissures as if cracked by an earth-
quake. Then, if cross winds should come
into collision at the surface and the conflict
residt in a circular motion, the dust, says
the author, is whirled aloft in moving col-
umns, like the water-spout. The heavens,
overcast, shed but a murky and livid light
upon the desolate plain. The horizon,
before unbounded, is suddenly curtained
round, contracting the area of the desert
and the heart of the spectator. The biu-n-
ing dust which surcharges the atmosphere
intensifies, by reflecting, the stifling heat of
the air. And the easterly winds do but
augment instead of allaying it, by accumu-
lating the emanations of the sweltering
soil. The verdure of even the palm-tree
withers, and the pools of water which it
protected run gradually dry. As the ani-
mals of northern regions are found to wrap
themselves in the ice, so the crocodile and
boa take refuge here from the opposite af-
fliction by burying themselves in a like
torpor as deep as practicable beneath the
arid earth. Blinded with clouds of dust,
goaded with hunger, and parched with
burning thirst, the cattle and horses are
seen to wander about, the former uttering
hoarse and mournful lo wings, the latter,
with outstretched necks, directed to wind-
ward, snuf&ng strongly the air to discov-
er, by the moisture of its current, the
vicinity of some water-pool not yet en-
tirely evaporated. The mules, more sa-
gacious, take another means of assuaging
their thirst. They seek out the melo-cac-
tus, a vegetable of a spherical shape, and
containing under a prickly rind a sub-
stance of a very watery character. The
mule, after removing the thorns by means
of its fore feet, applies the lips with cau-
tion, and sucks the refreshing juice. But
it is sometimes at the cost of a string-halt,
with which these animals are frequently
maimed by the prickles of the cactus. An-
other species of prickles pursues these
creatures in general by night, and denies
them the alleviation of repose. During
sleep they are set upon by shoals of mon-
strous bats, that fasten upon their backs
and suck the blood like vampires, and,
moreover, leave them all scarred with pu-
trescent sores, upon which settle in turn
succeeding swarms of horse-flies, mosqui-
toes, and a multitude of other sting-bearing
insects. Such is the wretched existence of
these animals during the season of drought.

But the condition of some of them is
scarce improved by the inundating rains.
The face of nature indeed is freshened.
The desert buds anew with the lank blades
of its grasses. The aquatic vegetables
throw open their flowers. The earth is
seen to rise here and there into hillocks,
whence issues at last with a bubble-burst-
ing explosion, some huge water-snake or
cuirassed crocodile from its temporary
tomb. The birds sing, the horses and cat-
tle bound for joy. But the delight of the
latter is soon turned into a new distress.
Not only is their pasture submerged by the
rising waters, but, insulated upon the
elevated spots to which they had gradually
retired from the advancing flood, they are
penned up into close company with the
jaguar and the crocodile. But they have
still a more fatal, because unknown, en-
emy in the waters. This enemy is the
electric eel, against whose nervous battery
the most powerful animals would defend
themselves in vain. The method of catch-
ing this singular fish, which man can neither
hook nor even strike with impunity, is
worth citing in the lively description of our
author: — " The fishery of the electric eels
affords a picturesque spectacle. In a marsh
or pool which is first surrounded by a close
circle of Indians, a troop of mules and
horses is made to run about, until the
strange noise brings these spirited fishes to
the attack. Then you see them float like
serpents on the surface of the water, and
press themselves adroitly against the bellies
of the horses. Several of the latter drop
lifeless by dint of the invisible blow.
Others exhausted, palpitating, with mane
erect, and eyes haggard, sparkling, and ex-
pressive of intense anguish, attempt to
evade the sufiering by quitting the place.
But the Indians, armed with long bamboo
canes, repulse them into the water. Grad-
ually the impetuosity of the unequal com-
bat declines. The eels, at last fatigued,
disperse about the pool. They need long
repose and abundant nutriment to repair
their expenditui-e of galvanic energy.
Their shocks more and more feeble produce
commotions less efiective. Scared by the
splashing of the horses, they timorously
approach the bank ; here they are struck
with harpoons, and then drawn up upon
the desert-sward by means of sticks well
dried and non conductive of the fluid."

1850.]

Aspects of Nature.

147

Such is the singular battle of the horses
and fishes. Though a veritable fact, it is,
perhaps, more poetical than the fabled
" battle of the frogs and mice." Humboldt
adds this philosophic reflection : — That
which constitutes the living and invisible
weapon of these dwellers of the watery
element ; that which, developed by the
contact of humid and heterogeneous parts,
circulates through the organs of all animals
and vegetables ; that which kindles through
the storm the firmament of heaven ; that
which attracts iron to iron, and determines
the tranquil and retrograde veering of the
magnetic needle — all this, is derived from
one and the same source, lilce the diversi-
fied colors of a refracted sunbeam. All
these forces have their fountain in the uni-
versal and eternal energy, which animates
the organizations of nature and governs the
motions of the stars.

The third species of desert is the
Steppe ; of which the principal sample
belongs to Central Asia. Here it takes
the character of an immense table-land,
stretching along the backs of the enormous
congeries of mountains which cover a large
portion of that continent. These steppes
are therefore the most elevated, and they
are also the most extensive in the world.
They are estimated to contain 160,000
square leagues, and rise some 8 or 9,000
feet above the level of the sea. They ex-
tend from the 30th to the 50th degree of
latitude north, and lie therefore mostly
within the temperate zone. Accordingly,
the plains are some of them clothed with
the finer grasses ; others are adorned with
saline plants perpetually green, vigorous,
and pointed. " A large number shine at
a distance with muriatic efflorescences,
which crystallize in the shape of lichens,
and cover the clayey soil with scattered
spots not unlike to new-fallen snow."

But there is another production of this
Asiatic modification of the desert, of a na-
ture which should perhaps lead humanity
to wish it had been as inhospitable as the
African. These steppes have been the
" northern line" of the oriental world; the
source whence have issued all those nomad
hordes of barbarians who have extinguished
or retarded civilization at successive periods
of history, from the shepherds of ancient
Egypt to the sultans of modern Greece.
Here also the Huns, Alans, and more or

less immediately, the Vandals, Goths, &c.,
who carried their devastations into the
heart, and even to the utmost extremeties
of Europe. And this long series of dis-
asters, with which the world is perhaps not
yet done, seems due to the existence in
northern Asia of those immense regions of
land at once incapable of agriculture, yet
affording pasture to flocks enough to feed
a vast population in that idle and adven-
turous mode of life called the shepherd
state. For this is not a stage of transition
alone. It may, we think, become perma-
nent by necessity, as in this instance. A
necessity perhaps imposed, not so much
by the pre-occupancy of the arable coun-
tries, as by the correlation that long sub-
sists between the moral condition of com-
munities and the physical character of the
region of earth upon which they chance to
have been cast.

How otherwise account for the persist-
ence in the shepherd state of the " Arabs
of the desert,'''' whose ancestry had been
semi-civilized and agricultural when Eu-
rope was still a wilderness.'' The same
principle would perhaps help to explain a
circumstance noted by Humboldt, but
which he does not attempt to reconcile
with the prevailing theory, though citino-
the latter with undoubting assent. The
striking fact — if it be a fact — is this, that
the " shepherd state" has never existed
upon the American continent. The North
was stUl savage, the South agricultural, and
the latter had no traditions of havino- pass-
ed through such a stage. The alleged
ffxct is, we say, striking at first, because it
is contrary to the current hypothesis upon
the subject. But if it were asked to name
the country of Europe, for example, which
is known to have passed through this mode
of life in its characteristic acceptation, one
would be surprised to find perhaps that,
with all the advantages of historical record,
the absence or the oblivion of the matter is
here no less complete than in the instances
of Mexico and Peru. Was there ever, in
short, a country, originally well wooded,
and thus adapted to agriculture, where,
after reclaiming it, the community derived
its sole sustenance from milk and cheese ?
Is it not, on the other hand, in those re-
gions of the earth where the vegetation,
starved back to its primary stage of the
coarse grasses, announces the hopelessness

148

Aspects of Nature.

[Feb,

of artificial production; is it not here, we
submit, and here alone, that men are found
to have adopted primevally, and to retain
to this day, this half-natural, half-artificial,
means of nourishment ? Now, for this, we
have seen the Llanos of South America
were too precarious. The requisite ani-
mals, supposing them indigenous — which
was not in truth the case — could have
hardly subsisted themselves, much less sup-
ported their owners, for a large portion of
the year, even as they could not have lived
in the African desert for a day. This is,
no doubt, the cause why the pastoral state
has probably been unknown to both these
continents. The remainder of South Amer-
ica was either covered with forest, or emi-
nently inviting to agriculture. And as to
the prairies of the North, they were sur-
rounded but by savages who had not yet
emerged from the primary or hunter state.
This conjuncture of circumstances, physi-
cal and social, would serve to account for
the observation of Humboldt, if it should be
quite exact. We doubt, however, that the
character and history of South American
civilization are sufficiently explored as yet
to pronounce with absolute certainty. It
is a subject that requires to be investigated
by historians of another stamp than the
Garcilassos, and Clavigeros, and Prescotts,
who have hitherto been echoing each other
successively. Be this as it may, the gene-
ral conclusion seems to be warranted, that
the Steppe deserts of Asia, with their tem-
perate zone and grass covered surface, have
predestined, as it were, the portion of man-
kind who may inhabit them aboriginally, to
an existence as uniform and perpetual as
their own.

We have dwelt upon this less familiar of
the author's subjects so long that the fourth
species of desert must be dismissed with-
out remark. This is moreover of inferior
consequence, in every respect. Belonging
duly to the " fourth quarter of the world,"
the principal sample extends from the point
of Jutland to the mouth of the Scheldt,
and thus lies within the frigid zone. Not
only is this European desert unfit for agri-
culture, in common with all the others — it
is moreover as unfavorable to grass vegeta-
tion as the African, though probably from
an opposite cause. It is overrun with a
species of brushwood or bramble, which
stifles or precludes all weaker plants. This

is the distinction we sought to denote by
the term copse, taking it in a more ex-
tended than the ordinary sense. It is the
transitive "aspect of nature" between the
desert and the forest.

The next order of these aspects in the
panorama of Humboldt, is the cataracts
of the Oronoco. Concerning the name of
this singular river — the Nile of the New
World — our author does not overlook a
remark which reminds one of the " first
of travellers ;" though he be, as usual, too
little of the philosopher to probe deeply
the solution. The name of Oronoco, he
tells us, was given to this river by those
Europeans who first discovered it ; it owes,
he conjectures, its origin to a confusion or
corruption of language. It is utterly un-
known to the natives. " In fact these
people, still primitive and rude, distin-
guish hij 'particular names only such ob-
jects as are liahle to he confounded toith
each other. The Oronoco, the Amazon,
and the Magdalene rivers, are merely called
the river ; sometimes the great river, the
great waters : the inhabitants of their
banks are wont to designate by proper
navies^ on the contrary.^ the pettiest of
rivulets.'''^ It is not precisely, we think,
that the rivulets, to those who knew them
in common, were objects more apt to be
confounded one with another, than any of
them with the great river. The general
reason was of a numerical nature : the
river was (to the local population) but
one ; the rivulets were several. But nam-
ing is primitively a sort of numeration.
It seeks to particularize the multiplicity of
similar objects by means of proper names.
Only after, supervenes the distinction of
magnitude ; an idea which begins to appear,
in this instance, in the descriptive epithet
" great." Meanwhile, the term river was,
for the rest, a proper name in the idioms
of these savages severally. To overlook
this, is an ordinary illusion of civilized
language ; wherein the appellation has long
passed from the individual to the class.
And even here the name is common still
merely with respect to the divers species
of river. It is proper and peculiar as
ever, in the general classification of wa-
ters ; where alone it serves to denominate,
to distiug-uish, to prevent confusion. This
upward march of the process of naming,
and double aspect of such specification,

1850.]

Aspects of Nature.

149

are well exemplified, though in the germ,
by the interesting observation cited. They
would illustrate, in turn, many seeming
anomalies of our North American idioms.
For instance, the absence of general names,
represented to prevail in most descriptions
of objects ; while there are some in which
the case is supposed to be quite the re-
verse !

Another reflection of much import is
suggested by an anecdote of the author in
relation to the Oronoco. Columbus, ob-
serving at its entrance so prodigious a
quantity of fresh water, inferred saga-
ciously that the latter must have been
gathered from a vast tract of country ;
from a continent, therefore, not an island.
But on also seeing the usual productions
of the palm-climate, he concluded that
the new continent ?)iust he a continuation
of the Asiatic. In this he erred, says
Humboldt, not knowing the law of resem-
blance between the vegetable productions
of the corresponding climates in however
remote quarters of the earth. Yet this
very error Humboldt himself has been la-
boring under throughout his long life to
this day. For he has been always the
most respectable (though not a pertina-
cious) authority for the foreign, and par-
ticularly Asiatic, derivation of the prime-
val population of this continent. And
upon what ground } Why, upon the sur-
mise of resemblances, much fewer and
more fallacious than those of Columbu.s !
Such is human nature in even its highest
philosophical culture, when it has to do
with what Bacon would term an idol of
the tribe ! And this, if inferring identity
of origin from resemblance of appearance,
is one of the most inveterate. The sol-
diers of Alexander, on beholding the Indus
with its crocodiles^ break, of a sudden,
upon their view, imagined it must have
been a branch of the Nile. Columbus
again, when approaching the odoriferous
coast of South America, supposed, upon
the still more fantastic analogy of poetic
description, that he must be nearing the
Garden of Eden. What wonder, then,
that men are still inclined to jump to a
like conclusion, on detecting a coincidence
in the productions of art or of intellect }
And also what value should be set upon
their conjectures, in this matter, grounded
solely upon an assumption thus disproved

in the vegetable world .'' Is man less con-
trolled than the plant by the proper laws
of his organization t Or is he more liable
to deviate from the laws of his organiza-
tion than from the customs of his ances-
tors }

But we are awakened from this reverie
by the cataracts of the Oronoco. Yet
these are no great affiiir, after all. There
is much more cry than wool. This dis-
proportion of the noise to the fall is due
to the peculiarity of construction which
distinguishes these cascades, and which is
thus described by the author : " The cata-
racts of Maypure do not present, like that
of Niagara, the fall of a vast volume of
water precipitated aU at once ; nor are
they notched into narrow gullets through
which the current presses its accelerated
course, like the Pougo falls of the river
Amazon. They consist of an innumerable
multitude of little cascades, following upon
each other and falling step by step adown
the steep. The raudal — as the Spaniards
name this species of cataract — receives its
form from an archipelago or congi-egation
of islets and rocks which so encumber the
bed of the stream — here eight thousand
feet broad — that sometimes there remains
not a free space of twenty feet for the pas-
sage of boats, &c." The most considera-
ble of these cascades was but nine feet
high, and the aggregate altitude of the
whole measured only twenty -eight or
thirty.

Yet the collective aspect of the scene
is described as marvellously imposing. On
ascending a commanding height your eyes
take in, of a sudden, a vast curtain of
foam about a mile in extension. Huge
bodies of iron-colored rock spring up
through, and seem to sit upon, its bosom
like towers. Every islet, every rock is
decked with trees of vigorous growth, and
so closely clumped as to image a brush -
like termination stained with green. Sur-
mounting still the sheet of foam, floats
incessantly a cloud of spray, through whose
vapory mist is seen to pierce the tufted
tops of the palm-trees. When the burn-
ing rays of the evening sun come to im-
pinge upon this humid cloud, the optical
phenomena present a veritable scene of en-
chantment. The colored bows depart and
renew themselves successively, and, though
playthings of the breeze, their image main-

150

Aspects of Nature.

[Feb.

tains its balance above the tumult of the
waters —

" Like hope upon a death-bed : and unworn
Its steady d yes, while all around is forft,"&c.

as sings the philosophic poet-painter of
Velino.

Respecting the tumult — which is thus
swelled rather by a multitude of obstacles
than the height of the falls — Humboldt
adds a remark, of general and interesting
application. " During the five days," says
he, " that we passed in the vicinity of the
cataract, we marked with surprise that the
crash of the falls was three times louder
by day than by night. In Europe, the
same singularity is observed at all the
waterfalls. What can be the cause here,
in the midst of a desert where nothing
breaks the silence of nature ? It should
probably be sought in the ascending cur-
rent of heated air which^ by day^ arrests
the lateral propagation of sound, and which
ceases, during the night, when the surface
of the earth is cooled." This explanation,
it will be noted, coalesces with, and con-
firms, the author's previous account of the
absence of rain or dew in the sandy species
of desert. We will close this head by
suggesting, as in the subject of deserts,
the following classification of cataracts.
First and principal, the fall cataract, such
as Niagara ; second, the forked cataract ;
and third, the stair cataract, or raudal.

The Physiognomy of Plants, we must
dismiss very summarily. The following
finely philosophical extract will best indi-
cate the purpose of the author and the
interest of the subject : — ; '. ,

"That which the painter designates by
Swiss naturalness, by Italian skies, &c., has
its principle in the confused sentiment of a
locality of character in nature. The azure
of the firmament, the light, the vapors repo-
sing in the distance, the shape of the animals,
the vigor of the vegetation, the richness of
the foliage, the outline of the mountains, all
these partial elements go to determine the
particular impression produced by the totality
of a landscape. In fact, beneath every zone,
the same species of mountains are found to
form groups of rock of resembling physiog-
nomy. The diabisite rocks of South America
and Mexico are similar to those of the Euga-
nean mountains ; even as, amongst animals,
the shape of the alco or primitive dog of the

New Continent, corresponds exactly to that of
the European race. [Why not the race and
habits and productions of man, then, without
assuming a unity of origin '!] The unorganic
envelope of the globe is nearly independent
of the influence of climate : whether it is
that the rocky formation had taken place be-
fore the establishment of climatory diversity,
or that the mass of the earth in hardening and
giving out caloric, has generated its tempera-
ture of itself, instead of receiving it extra-
neously. Thus all the sorts of rock are
common to all the countries in the world, and
affect every where the same form. Every
where the basaltic species towers into twin
mountains, with truncated summits. Every
where the trap porphyry appears in quaintly
conglomerated masses, and the granite, with
gently rounded outlines. So too do similar
species of plants, sucli as the pine and the
oak, crown alike the mountains of Sweden
and those of the most southern meridian of
Mexico ; still, notwithstanding this corre-
spondence of form and similitude of partial
details, the collective aspect of their group-
ings presents a character entirely different.
"The knowledge of fossils does not differ
more from the knowledge of the earth than
the individual description of natural objects
does from the general description of the phy-
siognomy of nature. George Foster, in his
voyages and various writings ; Goethe, in the
portraitures presented by several of his im-
mortal Avorks ; Herder, BufTon, Bernardin de
Saint-Pierre, and Chateaubriand have traced
with inimitable truth the vegetable character
of particular climates. Delineations of this
kind are not only proper to procure the mind
a fund of enjoyment of the noblest order :
they do more than this ; an acquaintance
with the character of nature in the difierent
regions of the globe is entwined in the most
intimate manner ivith the history of man and
of civilization. For if the commencement of
this civilization be not determined solely by
physical relations, at least its direction, the
character of nations, and their dispositions,
gay or grave, depend almost entirely on the
influence of climate. How much have not
the skies of Greece had to do with the temper-
ament of its inhabitants T The populations
early settled in those beautiful and blissful
regions closed by the Onus, the Tigris and the
Egean sea, how should they not have been
the first to attain to amenity of manners and
delicacy of sentiment ? Did not our own an-
cestors return more refined from those deli-
cious valleys, when to Europe, relapsed into
barbarism, the enthusiasm of religion threw
open the sacred East % The poetical compo-
sitions of the Greeks, the rude songs of the
primitive populations of the north, owe their
character almost entirely to the configuration
of the animals and plants the poet was in the

1850.1

Aspects of Nature.

151

habit of seeing, to the valleys which sur-
rounded him, to the air which he respired.
And to mention objects more familiar to us,
who does not feel himself differently disposed
beneath the gloomy shade of the beech, upon
knolls adorned with scattered firs, or reclined
upon a mossy couch where the zephyr is
murmuring through the tremulous leaves of
the poplar % The respective shapes of these
plants of our country often inspire us with
images gay, serious, or melancholy. The
influence of the physical world upon the mo-
ral— that reciprocal and mysterious action of
the material upon the immaterial — imparts to
the study of nature, when contemplated from
an elevated point of view, a peculiar attrac-
tion as yet too little known."

Perfectly true, as to the neglect of the
influence. But only partially, we think,
as to the quantity. Hmnboldt seems to
repeat the exaggerations of Montesquieu,
respecting climate. Greece and Asia Mi-
nor have the same climate at this day, for
example ; but where are the arts, or ame-
nities, or other national characteristics of
old } But the doctrine has been already
repeated over and over. StiU was it, we
repeat, no less a shadow cast before the
commg recognition of a magnificent truth,
namely : the co-operation, not of climate,
or scene, or soil, or of all together, but of
the diversity and adversity of these con-
ditions collectively, in the progressive ci-
vilization of mankind. It was but natural
that their influence should at first be dis-
cerned severally, and made each to stand,
as usual, for the whole and sole cause. It
was also necessary that the efi'ects should
begin with being appreciated in the shnpler
and positive instance of national character,
before embracing the more abstract con-
siderations of society and history. That
was, accordingly, the stage of Montesquieu,
and remained still the point of view of
Humboldt in this book. The latter would
seem, indeed, by the expression italicised
in the passage just cited and elsewhere, to
have had some glimpses of the maturer
extension. But they must have been ex-
tremely imperfect and unsteady. We had
a signal proof of this in his omission,
above noted, to allow at all for the influ-
ences in question, where most decisively
developed ; to perceive the agency of the
steppe-desert, in the constitution or the con-
tinuation of the pastoral or shepherd state.
There is another evidence of it in the same

passage, where he recognizes the result of
those influences in the resemblance not
only ot the vegetable productions, but even
of the inorganic bodies, of corresponding
climates ; while he argues repeatedly, as
before shown, upon the preposterous as-
sumption that man alone is excluded from
these universal laws. We have insisted
upon these strictures the more, in order to
satisfy, that the judgment which was inti-
mated at the outset respecting the pro-
fundity of this otherwise estimable philo-
sopher, had not been ventured without
grounds.

Having thus represented, in its qualities
and defects, his theory of climatory influ-
ences in general, it will be proper to add
the ground upon which he claims a preem-
inence of efiicacy for the particular section
of plants : — " But if the characters of the
difibrent countries depend upon the aggre-
gate of their external appearances ; if the
contour of the mountains ; if the physiog-
nomy of the plants and animals ; if the
azure of the firmament, the proportion of
the clouds, and the purity of the atmos-
phere, have each their several influences
upon the impression produced by the whole ;
yet it cannot be denied, that the principal
cause of this impression lies in the mass of
the vegetable element. The animal spe-
cies are too sparse ; and the mobility of the
individuals too often sequesters them from
our view. The vegetables, on the contrary,
act upon our imagination, by their very
immobility and grandem*. Their size is
an index of their age, and it is the privilege
of plants alone to unite with age the im-
pression of a vigor which is rejuvenated in-
cessantly. The gigantic dragon-tree which
I have seen in the Canary Islands, has a
diameter of sixteen feet, and enjoying a
perpetual youth, is stUl in full bearing of
flowers and fruit. When the French buc-
caneers, in the sixteenth century, made the
conquest of the Fortunate Islands, the
dragon-tree of Orotavaw, — as sacred to the
native islanders as the olive of the citadel
of Athens or the elm of Ephesus, — was of
dunensions quite as colossal as at this day.
In the torrid zone, a forest of Coesulpinea
and Hymenia is perhaps a monimient of no
less than a thousand years."

The multitudinous species of plants, al-
ready estimated by de CandoUe at some
56,000, may, according to Himiboidt, be

152

Aspects of Nature.

[Feb.

classed under sixteen principal forms, for
the purposes of this physiognomical en-
quiry. Such a division, it will be observed,
has nothing in common with the systems of
the botanist. The latter is conversant with
individuals, and considers these in only the
most diminutive of their parts, the
flower and fruit. The physiognomical
botanist contemplates vegetables, like the
painter, in the concrete and comprehensive
grouping of a landscape. The author pro-
ceeds to characterize the sixteen types of
of these groups, commencing with the palm
and the banana. But his descriptions,
though no doubt exact, do not appear to
indicate much talent for the line of obser-
vation he is recommending.

We have space but for a word on the
third head of volcanoes. This term is
popularly applied to all igneous eruptions
from the entrails of the earth, whether ac-
cidental as by an earthquake, or perma-
nent. The latter class alone, however,
should receive the name of volcano. The
exterior form of this phenomenon is gene-
rally that of an isolated elevation, of a
conical shape, such as jEtna, Vesvivius,
Cotopaxi. But these formations, which
are found of all altitudes from a hillock to
the highest mountains, ought perhaps to be
considered scientifically as but one among
several orifices common to the same sub-
terraneous action. From this point of view
the volcanic mountains of the globe might
be reduced into a three-fold classification.
The first description would consist of clus-
ters or extended systems of mountains, hav-
ing craters and currents of lava, such as the
Azores and Canary Islands. The second,
of similar groups, but without permanent
orifices or currents of lava, properly so
called. In the third class, the movmtains
are arranged into lines by single or double
file, and extending to the length of several
hundred miles, the ranks running some-
times parallel to the axle of the mountain
chain, as in Guatemala, Java, and Peru,
sometimes intersecting it rectangularly, as
in the country of the Aztecs. By this
comparative mode of viewing the external
manifestations may we alone hope to com-
prehend the mysterious causes of volcanoes,
and through them, perhaps, the internal
condition of the globe. But Humboldt ad-
duces a number of confirmatory facts,
which may be cited in preference to all ar-
gument on the subject.

That these combinations of volcanoes,
by groups and longitudinal bands, evince
the action, not of petty causes adjacent to
the surface, but have their origin, their in-
tercommunication deep in the interior of
the earth, is abundantly proved by the fol-
lowing statements. All the eastern region
of the American continent, poor in metals,
is in its present state without a burning
mountain, without masses of trachyte,
probably even without basalt. AU the
volcanoes of America are found in the
chain of the Andes, situated in the part of
the continent opposite to Asia, and extend-
ing in the direction of the meridian over a
length of 1800 leagues. The whole table-
land of Quito, of which Rehincha, Coto-
paxi, and Tunguragua form the summits,
is one volcanic furnace. The subterra-
neous fire issues now by one, again by
another, of these outlets, which are wont
to be regarded as individual volcanoes.
The progressive march of the fiery emana-
tion is here, for three centuries back, from
north to south. Even the very earth-
quakes, which cause such terrible ravages
in this part of the world, offer equally re-
markable proofs of the existence of sub-
terraneous communications, not only with
countries destitute of volcanoes — a fact
long known already — but also between fire
emitting mountains, far remote from each
other. Thus in 1797 the volcano of Pasto
sent forth continually, during three months,
a tall column of smoke. This column dis-
appeared at the very instant when, at a
distance of sixty leagues, the great earth-
quake of Riobamba, and the muddy erup-
tion of the Moya proved fatal to nearly
forty thousand Indians. The sudden ap-
pearance of the island of Sabrina, in the
east of the Azores group, the 30th Janua-
ry, 1811, was the signal of that awful
earthquake which, from May 181 1 to June
1812, rocked almost without interruption,
first the Antilles, then the plains of Ohio
and Mississippi ; finally the coasts of Vene-
zuela, situated on the opposite coast.
Thirty days after the total destruction of
the city of Caraccas, occurred the explo-
sion of the volcano of St. Vincent, an
island of the Lesser Antilles, at 130 leagues
distance. At the same moment when this
eruption took place, the 30th April, 1811,
there was heard a strange subterraneous
noise, which spread terror throughout the
whole extent of a country of 2200 square

1850.]

Aspects of Nature.

153

leagues. The inhabitants of the banks of
the Apure, at the confluence of the Rio-
Nula, as well as those of the maritime
coast, compared this noise to that produced
by the discharge of heavy pieces of artil-
lery. But from the junction of the Rio-
Nula and the Apure to the volcano of St.
Vincent, the distance is computed at 157
leagues in a direct line. This sound,
which certainly was not propagated by the
air, must have had its origin very far with-
in the recesses of the earth. Its intensity
was scarce more considerable on the coast
of the Antilles immediately near the vol-
cano, in full eruption, than it was in the
interior of the country. It is unnecessary
to multiply these examples. But to men-
tion a phenomenon which, to Europe, has
acquired an historical importance, the list
may be closed with the famous earthquake
of Lisbon. It occurred the 1st November,
1755 ; not only the waters of the Swiss
lakes and the sea along the coasts of Swe-
den, were violently agitated, but also those
of the ocean around the eastern Antilles.
At Martinique, at Antigua, at Barbadoes,
where the tide does not usually rise to a
height of more than eighteen inches, it
rose, on this occasion, suddenly to twenty
feet. All these phenomena go to prove
that the subterraneous forces are manifested
either dynamically by earthquakes, or chem-
ically by volcanic eruptions. They further
shew that the action of these forces does
not take place superficially in the outer
crust of the earth, but passes at immense
depths in the interior of our planet, and is
propagated through crevices and veins not
filled up, which conducts to points of the
surface the most remote asunder."

Another extract, and we dismiss this
book of interesting topics : " The ques-
tion has," says the author, " been often
agitated : What is it that burns in vol-
canoes .'' What is it produces the heat by
which the earth and metallic ores are fused
and mingled together .? Modern chemistry
replies : That which burns is the earth,
the metals, the very aUiahes ; that is to say,
the metalloids of those substances. The
solid crust, already oxidized, of the earth
separates the atmosphere, rich in oxygen,
from the inflammable principles not oxidiz-
ed, which reside in the interior of our planet.
Certain observations which have been made
imder every zone, in mines and caverns,

prove that even at a small depth the heat
of the earth is much higher than the mean
temperature of the atmosphere at the sur-
face. This remarkable fact is entirely
consonant with what we are taught by vol-
canic phenomena. La Place has even at-
tempted to determine the depth at which
the earth might be regarded as a molten
mass. Whatever doubt, notwithstandmg,
due to so great a name, may be enter-
tained respecting the numerical certainty
of such a calculation, it is not the less pro-
bable that all volcanic phenomena proceed
from a single cause, which is, the commu-
nication, constant or transient, between the
interior and the exterior of our planet.
Elastic gases press outwards, through deep
fissures, the various substances which are
in a state of fusion, and in process of oxi-
dation. Volcanoes are, so to say, the in-
termittent springs of these terrene sub-
stances : the fluid mixture of metals, alka-
lies, and earths, which are condensed into
currents of lava, flow softly and tranquilly,
as soon as, hoisted to the surface, they have
found an issue. It was even so, according
to the Ph^edon of Plato, that the ancients
used to imagine all volcanic eruptions to be
emanations from the infernal torrent of
Periphlegethon . ' '

We have thus endeavored to present the
reader with a faithful summary of the most
interesting questions, either solved or sug-
gested in this book. The facts and obser-
vations will be still found of value to the
philosopher, if only surveyed from the point
of view attained by physical science since
their original publication. For the work
is some forty years old ; although that
conscionable fraternity, the publishers —
anxious, no doubt, like other fraternities, to
deceive the people for their good — seem to
be passing it, in England as well as here,
in connexion with the late translation, as a
production fresh from the octogenarian pen
of the author. Of this English version we
have made no use ourselves in the passages
cited, which are translated from the
French one, executed soon after the Ger-
man edition, and under Humboldt's own
inspection. Nor can we commend it to
the reader for anything better than the
usual presentations of German philosophy
in English style.

It was not difiicult, however, to do
justice to the style of Humboldt, and

154

Aspects of Nature.

[Feb.

it needed no more than justice to be
clear and consecutive. His manner, in
this respect, like his maturer education,
indeed, is much less German than French.
This we should have perhaps enumerated
among the elements of his popularity as a
writer. Humboldt is, in general philoso-
phy, what Goethe was in poetry, Lysing
in criticism, and Savigny in jurisprudence.
In their several modes of style and state-
ment, these have well been Frenchified
Germans. Notwithstanding the improve-
ment in respect of manner, it may, how-
ever, be questioned whether this alien and
imitative direction is equally favorable to
genuineness or profundity of thought. A
defect of the latter qualities, and on ground
of the cause suggested, is known to have
been, in fact, a standing imputation made

to most of the authors named by the mere
plodding of their own countrymen. Na-
tional jealousy had much to do with this
criticism, no doubt. Still, it is not the less
probable that Humboldt, in eschewing the
metaphysical visions of his native philoso-
phy, would swing over into the man of
facts, and measures, and multifarious in-
quiries, that we ventured to characterize
him at the commencement of these pages.
The lack of profundity there imputed
would thus be explained, without deroga-
tion to the natural abilities of the venerable
author. For, in any case, in any country,
it is only intellects of the highest order that
can operate fully, freely, under a foreign
system, whether of doctrine or method.
But a German, in particular, is nothing, if
not mystical.

1850.] The Shipwreck 155

THE SHIPWRECK.

A BALLAD

PART I.

^ ' Right off the sandy Cape of May

The breeze blows, soft and free ;
', ! Scarce in the sedge it makes a sigh, ' .

, .. . Or ripple on the sea^

To break the purple sheen of morn,
1 That glows athwart the sea.

Three mariners tramp along the beach, —

They tramp, and will not stay ;
They've left a body in the surf, ■ ' ■

For the sea to wash away ; —
■ The body of a fair young maid, //

' . For the sea to wash away.

. . One carries in his hand a scarf,

Another a belt of gold.
And the third a silver and pearl casket : —
They are three mariners bold ;
, ' But they think of the body in the surf,

And their hearts grow faint and cold.

, Gat was the day when the gallant ship

The Narrows neared so fast ;
When they saw the hills of Jersey,
[ They deemed their danger past ; — .Y' .

' • The danger of the faithless sea, — /

They thought 'twas surely past.

Full freighted with a precious charge,
From England, swift, they came,

A jewelled heiress, proud and fair.
Who bore a princely name :

And noble was the mien she bore
To grace that princely name.

Bright, on the deck, the young maid stood ;
• So rare her beauty shone.

When, shouting glad, all hailed the land

VOL. V. NO. II. NEW SERIES. 11

156 The SJiipwreck. [Feb.

They looked on her alone :
The land it was a blessed sight,
But they looked on her alone.

Set was the sun, and night begun,
When music on the sea,
• . ■ With song that cheers brave marineers, _ ' ■

Made mirth and jollity :
In feast and dance they sped the hours; '• . .

, Then slept, while slept the sea. . ' ,

■ At midnight stroke the sea awoke, •. . , '

• For the storm had waked before • .'

And with a sudden rage came forth, i

, Which the deep sea uptore : ^

The gallant ship went all awreck ^ '

That dreadful blast before. ■

\ . ■ ■

Upsprang the captain and the crew,

" We sink ! we sink !" they cried.
They nothing heard, they nothing knew

While from the vessel's side
Three oarsmen bold the life-boat pulled. — . •

And they took one beside.

Black was the sky, and fierce the cry
Of tempest and of sea,
' ■ ■ No man could hark, no man could mark

The boat and its oarsmen three,
When the fair maid they hurried away
Out over the raging sea.

Swift from the cabin they'd hurried her,

Swift to the vessel's side.
With stifling hands they silenced her.

And wicked threats beside :
The boat was lowered, and, stoutly oared, ' . ^

She swept the foaming tide.

Out over the sea the mariners three ,•

■ , The life-boat pulled away ; " ' .

And they saw the ship before them, '

Sink down amid the spray ; — . •> '

I " They saw the black ship sinking,

All in a shroud of spray. . - " . . '

" . ■ Fast in the bottom of the boat . ■ ,

The prize lay bound and still : ^ ,

The sea burst o'er, behind and before, — /

An hour it had its will ; '

An hour the raging tempest blew, '

' Then fled, and all was still : — ' ,

1850.] The Shipwreck. 157

All save the moaning of the deep,

And a murmur far away,
Where heaves the brine its snowy line

Right on the Cape of May,
Where the proud sea beats sullenly

The sandy cape of May.

The mariners three, right lustily, ^

Pulled toward the land amain :
The boat did make a snowy wake

Athwart ihe briny plane ;
And rising soon, a red round moon

Shone out, along the main. t

Right through a rift of inky cloud

The moon shone on the sea,
And showed the land, and showed the boat,

And showed the oarsmen three ;—
They cursed her with a pirate's curse

The lusty oarsmen three.

0 woe ! for mariners, whose hearts ;

To fiends of hell are sold, , . -.

For lust of flesh, for lust of will,

For lust of ruddy gold ;
Their dreadful deeds, (which God well heeds),

Be for a warning told !

They saw the land, which lay at hand,
They saw the white surf line, ^ ..

A cottage on the leafy shore,
A window's cheerful shine;—

For now the purple sheen of morn
Came gleaming o'er the brine.

Bound in the bottom of the boat.

The lovely prize lay still ;
The mariners looked, the mariners longed,

(The devil would have his will) ;
Each claimed her with a dreadful oath,

And swore to have his will.

The mariners looked, the mariners longed,

But the land it was too near:
They saw the cottage on the shore,

And felt a deadly fear ;
They cast it in the plunging deep,

The prize they held so dear.

Slowly tl e boat slid up the strand
An 1 tl e s?a rolled d\ the prize;
Anl tlify thought the dead raised up its head,

158 The SJiipwrech. [Jan.

With drowned and glassy eyes.
The fiend stepped after as they went
And cursed them with those eyes.

Swiftly they tramped along the heach,

They tramped and would not stay,
They cursed themselves, they cursed their deed,

They cursed the body that lay.
All weltering left; amid the surf,
, . For the sea to wash away. ' ,,

' PART II.

Slow by my cottage door he went,
His beard was long and white,

And as he turned, his eye-balls burned
With a strange and dreadful light,

I could not bear the horrid glare
And shunned it with my sight.

It was a hoary mariner ;

I bid him welcome in :
" Against the poor to shut the door,"

Thought I, " is sure a sin.
So be he man, or be he fiend,

ril bid him welcome in."

Still by my cottage door he stood.
And shivered with the cold; • ;

"I may not be under roof tree,"
He said, " though I be old ;

Though I be poor, no good man's door
May keep me from the cold."

"Old man," I said, "God keep thy head
From tempest and from scath."

"Ah! me!" cried he, " i/e keepeth me,
Against his day of wrath; . •

They went before ; I follow, sore ;
The fiend no mercy hath."

"Old man! old man! thou'rt mad," I said,
"With hunger and with cold."

"Ah! ha!" cried he. "A jovial three!
We were three mariners bold ;

But when we saw it under the surf,

. Our hearts grew faint and cold."

" What saw ye in the surf, old man ?"

"The body ! the body !" he cried.
And fixed his glassy eyes on mine,

1850.] The Shipwreck. 159

Like one whose soul has died,
And in its stead a frightful fiend
Doth for a soul abide.

" Hal and Jack, they went before ;

By their own hands they died :
I follow fast, I follow sore, ,

The fiend goes at my side,
He follows for the evil deed, _^

The deed of wicked pride.

" Black was the night, and shrill the gale,

No man could hear or see, —
And when the blessed morning came,

We drowned her in the sea.
Drowned ! drowned ! in the salt, salt, deep,

All weltering lies she.

"0 God ! It was the fairest maid! ■ '

Her smile was like the day.
The seamen's hearts beat gallantly,

When she by them would stay.
The ship; they swore, made never before

So many leagues the day.

"The Narrows ueared, the land we cheered j

The day was still and bright ;
High loomed the hills of Jersey, while

We lay becalmed till night ; ,

Then Jack he muttered in our ears, ; -.

' There'll be a storm to-night.'

" 'A storm !' cried Hal, ' then let it blow. [

By Jove, though hell go loose,
I've got a venture in my head : . ' 'Nj

Let fools go dance and bouse ;
Let fools go dance, I'll try a chance.

Go you, now, and carouse!" u]

" Stung by the jeer, we bent our ear.

' When comes the gale,' he said,
' You two shall lower the life-boat, while

I snatch her from her bed.
She hath a silver and pearl casket,

And a belt of gold so red.

" ' Take you the silver and pearl casket.

Take you the belt of gold.
Give me the girl, I ask no more ;

For I to the devil am sold,
And cleverly he hath carried me,

Through many a deed as bold.

160 The Shipwreck, [Feb.

" ' Come, cheer, my hearts ! do each your parts,

The maid no worse^shall he :
She loves a seaman in her soul ;

And I'll carry her over the sea.
Take you the wealth, take you the gold,

But give the maid to me."

"Right free he spoke, and turned the joke,

And flouted our idle fears ;
He'd been a rover on the main,

With bloody Buccaneers ;
He'd been a wealthy captain long, „f.:i ;,

Of bloody Buccaneers. :, rni'.'/i!

"The maid, he knew — the maid he loved, ^

But she his suit denied ;
And for a deep revenge, he swore

To have her ere he died ;
To have her, said she yea or nay, .■• .; ■'

A mistress or a bride. ■• •.•l;^ .

" From England sailed the gallant ship,

That bore the maid away,
And he went a fore-castle man,

To be by her alway. , •■

Be it well or ill, he'd work his will, ■ •

Said she or yea or nay. ■ ,'

"0, woe for mariners, whose hearts •?

Are sold to fiends of ill.
For lust of flesh, for lust of gold, ''

Or lust of wicked will.
0, woe for me! it was a deed / ''is

The very soul to kill.

" Fair was the prize, and smote our eyes

With tempting loveliness.
We swore that one should not alone ^

So sweet a prize possess: — • ■,'.' ,

It was a fell and wicked will

That did our souls oppress.

" Right off the sandy Cape of May, ., • •

The breeze blew soft and free. ,.•

The holy light came gleaming bright j , ;

Athwart the purple sea, . ^

When, by a panic fear compelled, )
We cast her in the sea.

*' Smote with the scourge of keen remorse,

They two themselves did slay, _ , ,' ; a
But I, a wretched, homeless man.

1850.] The Shipwreck 161

Must wander night and day.
Each year, I seek the dreadful shore
Of the sandy Cape of May.

"■ Still it lies there, with drenched hair,

Amid the white sea-foam.
Why will't not go 1 why stays it so,

To find me when I come 1
It breeds a madness in my brain

To find it when I come 1" ^ \ '

His glaring eyes he fixed on mine, " '
I could not bear the sight ; r .

"Old man," I said, "that hoary head,

Lodge thou with me to night, : >;• , ,

I'll read to thee from God's good Word, '

I'll pray with thee, for light." "•■ •■ '■■ ■

Then came he in, the man of sin ; v .■■/■ • , .

By my bed-side we knelt, ' ■ ■' . ' • '

And prayed I then, to God's dear Son, ^•.•:-. ../

To ease him of his guilt.
The tears rolled down his hollow cheeks,

And eased him of his guilt.

. ■ ' '•. Ah! 'twas a piteous sight to see.

The hoary marineer.
When on his dying bed he lay,

And prayed with many a tear.
That God would cleanse him of his crime,

For Christ his sake so dear.

That night died he, and solemnly

Next day we buried him,
And o'er his grave, by the salt sea wave,

We sang a pious hymn.
How God is merciful to those

Who die in fear of him.

162

The Cabriolet.

[Feb.

THE CABRIOLET:

FROM UNPUBLISHED MEMORANDA OF MOUNTAIN-LAND.

BY IK. MARVEL.

Notwithstanding we were on a pedes-
trian tour, and were as determined as old
Tom Coryate, we certainly did venture to
enquire about coaches in the little shabby
town of St. Florentin : and this not so
much because our courage misgave us, as
that the country thereabouts had grown
sadly monotonous.

True, St. Florentin is as strange an old
city as ever I slept in, and it sits perched
on a hill and has a mouldering, deserted
watch-tower in the centre; but from the
mouldy battlements we could see nothing
eastward but great stretches of level plain,
backed by a dim blue line in the horizon,
which they told us was the chain of Bur-
gundian hills.

But at St. Florentin, no coach, not even
so much as a voiture a volonte was to be
found ; so we harnessed on our knapsacks
and toiled along under the poplars to a
little village far oif in the plain, where we
were smuggled into what passed for the
coupe of a broken down Diligence. A man
and little girl, who together occupied the
third seat, regaled themselves in the voiture
with a fricandeau stuffed with garlic. The
day was cool; the windows were down;
the air close, and the perfume delightful !

That night we reached a town where lived
that prince of boys' story books about ani-
mals— Buffon. A tower rose on the hills
beside the town, covered with ivy — gray,
and venerable, and sober-looking ; and the
postillion said it was Buffon 's tower, and
that the town was named Buffon.

Tigers, and Cougars and Kangaroos were
leaping through my head all supper time,
which we passed in company with a com-
municative German, just from Switzerland,
en route for Paris.

He advised us — the Doctor said (how
much his blistered feet had to do with it, I
don't know), to take coach as far as Dole.
Up to this place, he told us, the country
was comparatively uninteresting ; but as
for the scenery beyond, he excited our an-
ticipations about it to the very highest ;
and yet he did not tell us a word — he sim-
ply laid down his knife and fork, clasped
his hands together, and looked up at the
ceiling.

" It must be very fine," said the Doc-
tor.

" Aye !" said I : and the German gave
us each a quiet glance — resumed his knife
and fork, and speedily demolished a capi-
tally broiled leg of chicken.

We desired to get to Dole as soon as
possible, so the next morning — voila un
cabriolet! to take us on to catch the Dili-
gence that passed through the old town of
Semur.

This French cabriolet which we took at
Buffon, was very like a Scotch horse-cart
with a top upon it. It had a broad leather-
cushioned seat in the back, large enough
for three persons. One we found already
occupied by a pretty enough woman, of
some four or five and twenty. The pos-
tillion was squatted on a bit of timber that
formed the whipple-tree. The Doctor,
with his pipe in his mouth, seated himself be-
tween the lady and myself — we bade adieu to
our accommodating German companion —
took off our hats to the landlady's daugh-
ter, and so went jostling out of the old
French town of Buffon, which, ten to one,
we shall never, either of us, see again in
our lives.

Now nothing in the world was more
natural than that the Doctor should ask

1850.]

The Cabriolet.

163

first, with the most amiable face that his
beard would admit of, if his smoking was
offensive to Mademoiselle ? which, consid-
ering that he sat directly next her, might
easily have happened.

It proved otherwise ; " Oh no, her hus-
band was a great smoker."

" Ah, ma foi^ can it be that Madame,
so young, is indeed married V

*' It is indeed true" — and there is a
glance both of pleasure, and of sadness in
the woman's eye.

The Doctor puffs quietly a moment or
two ; and I begin to speculate upon what
that gleam of pleasure and of sadness
might mean ; and finally curiosity gains on
speculation. " Perhaps Madame is tra-
velling from Paris, like ourselves V

" Non pas ; but she has been at Paris ;
what a charuiing city ! those delicious Bou-
levards, and the shops, and the Champs
Elysees, and the theatres — oh, what a
dear place Paris is !"

The Doctor assents in three or four vio-
lent consecutive puffs.

" And if jNIadame is not coming
from Paris, perhaps she is going to Paris .^"

" Non plus ; " even now we are not
right.

" She is coming from Chalons, she is
going to Semur."

" Madame lives then perhaps at Se-
mur .'"

" Pardon^ she is going for a visit."

" And her husband is left alone then,
the poor man !"

" Pardon^ (and there is a manifest sigh,)
he is not alone." And Madame re-ar-
ranges the bit of lace on each side of her
bonnet, and turns half around, so as to show
more fairly a very pretty brunette face,
and an exceeding roguish eye.

The Doctor knocks the ashes out of his

P^P^- ...

Madame thinks it is a very pretty pipe.

He hands it to her ; she wonders " if it

came from Londres V And she listens

with an air of most pleased entertainment,

when he tells her, that he brought it from

the far away Etats Unis d'^Amerique.

The reader must not be impatient, if he
wishes to know either the whole drift of our
adventure, or the naive character of such
companions as may be met with, on the
cross-country roads of France.

Now the Doctor has finished his story —

interlarded with an occasional vraiment !
from the lady, and an occasional sacre ! of
the postillion ; and then he very naturally,
is curious to know if it is Madame 's first
visit to Semur .^

" Mon Dieu^ non .'" and she sighs.

" Madame then has friends at Semur .^"

" Ma foi ! je nc saurrais vous dire.''^
She does not know !

This is very odd, thought I. " And who
can Madame be going to visit .^"

" Her father — if he is still living."

" But how can she doubt, if she has lived
so near as Chalons .^"

" Pardon; I have not lived at Chalons,
but at Bordeaux, and Moutpelier, and Pau,
and along the Biseayan mountains."

"And is it long since she has seen her
father .="

" Very long ; ten long — long years ; then
they were so happy ! ah, the charming
country of Semur ; the fine, sunny vine-
yards, and all so gay, and her sister, and

little brother " Madame puts her hands

to her face.

I, in my turn, wriggled round in my seat
to have a fuller sight of her.

The Doctor played with his pipe. "He
knew it would be a glad thing to meet them
aU !"

' ' Jamais^ Monsieur, never, I cannot ;
they are gone !" and she turned her head
away.

This may come to something, thought I,
looking at my watch, if we have only an
hour left between this and Semur. The
postillion said there were three leagues.

The French country women are simple-
minded, earnest, and tell a story much
better, and easier than any women in the
world.

The Doctor said, " she was young to
have wandered so far ; indeed, she must
have been very young to have quitted her
father's house ten years gone-by."

" Very young — very foolish. Monsieur.
I see," said she, turning, " that you want to
know how it was, and if you will be so good
as to listen, I will tell you. Monsieur."

Of course, the Doctor was very happy to
listen to so charming a story-teller ; and I
too, though I said nothing.

" You know Messieurs, the quiet of one of
our little country towns very well ; Semur
is one of them. My father was a small
proprietau-e : the house he lived in is not

164

The Cabriolet.

[Feb.

upon the road, or I would show it to you
by and by. It had a large court-yard, with
a hio-h stone-arched gateway — and there
were two hearts cut upon the topmost
stone, and the initials of my grandfather
and grandmother on either side, and all
were pierced by a little dart. I dare say
you have seen many such as you have wan-
dered through the country, butnow-a-days
they do not make them.

" Well, my mother died when I was a
little girl, and my father was left with three
children — my sister, little Jacques, and I.
Many, and many a time we used to romp
about the court-yard, and sometimes go
into the fields at vineyard dressing, and
pluck off the long tendrils ; and I would tie
them round little Jacques' head ; and my
sister, who was a year older than I, and
whose name was Lucie, would tie them
around my head. It looked very pretty to
be sure. Messieurs ; and I was so proud of
little Jacques, and of myself too : — I wish
they would come back, Messieurs, — those
times ! Do you know I think some-
times, that in Heaven, they will come
back .''

" I do not know which was prettiest —
Lucie or I ; she was taller and had lighter
hair ; and mine you see, is dark, (two rows
of curls hung each side of her face, jet
black) , I know I was never envious of her.

" I should think not," said the Doctor.
" I should think there was little need of
it."

" You think not Monsieur ; you shall
see presently.

" I have told you that my father was a
small proprictaire ; there was another in
the town, whose lands were greater than
ours, and who boasted of having been some-
time connected with noble blood, and
who quite looked down upon our family.
But there is little of that feeling left now
in the French country — and I thank God
for it. Monsieur. And Jean Frere, who
was a son of this proud gentleman, had
none of it when we were young.

" There was no one in the village he
went to see oftener than he did Lucie and
I. And we talked like girls then, about
who should marry Jean, and never thought
of what might really happen ; and our
bonne used to say, when we spoke of Jean,
that there were others as good as Jean in
the land, and capital husbands in plenty.

And then we would laugh, and sometimes
tie the hand of Jacques, to the hand of
some pretty little girl, and so marry them,
and never mind Jacques' pettish struggles,
and the pouts of the little bride ; and Jean
himself, would laugh as loud as any at this
play.

" But sometimes Jean's father would
come when we were romping together, and
take Jean away ; and sometimes kiss little
Jacques, and say he was a young rogue,
but have never a word for us.

" So matters went on till Lucie was
eighteen, and Jacques, a fine tall lad. Jean
was not so rich as he was, for his father's
vineyard had grown poor. Still he came
to see us, and all the village said there
would be a marriage some day ; and some
said it would be Lucie, and some said it
would be I.

"And now it was I began to watch
Lucie when Jean came ; and to count the
times he danced with Lucie, and then to
count the times that he danced with me.
But I did not dare to joke with Lucie about
Jean, and when we were together alone,
we scarce ever talked of Jean."

" Then I dare say, you were in love with
him," said the Doctor.

" I did not say so," said Madame. " But
he was handsomer than any of the young
men we saw, and I so young, and foolish !

" You do not know how jealous I be-
came. We had a room together, Lucie
and I, and often in the middle of the night,
I would steal to her bed and listen to find
if she ever whispered anything in her
dreams ; and sometimes when I came in at
evening, I would find her weeping.

" I remember I went up to her once,
and put my arm softly around her neck,
and asked her what it was that troubled
her ; and she only sobbed on. I asked her
if I had offended her; — 'you,' said she,
ma sceur^ ma mignonne,'' and she laid her
head upon my shoulder, and cried more
than ever ; and I cried too.

" So matters went on, and we noticed,
though we did not speak to each other of
it, that Jean came to see us more and more
rarely, and looked sad when he parted with
us, and did not play so often with little
Jacques.

" At length — how it was, we women
never knew — it was said that poor Jean's
father, the proud gentleman had lost all his

1850.]

The Cabriolet.

165

estate, and that he was going away to Paris.
We felt very sadly ; and we asked Jean,
the next time he came to see us, if it was
all true ? He said that it was true, and
that the next year they were going away,
and that he sbould never see us again.
Poor Jean ! — how he squeezed my hand, as
he said this ; but in his other hand he held
Lucie's. Lucie was more sensitive than I,
and when I looked at her, I could see that
the tears were coming in her eyes.

' You will be sorry when I am gone .^'
said Jean.

" You know we shall," said I ; and I
felt the tears coming too.

" A half year had gone by, and the time
was approaching when Jean was to leave us.
He had come at intervals to pass his even-
ings with us; he was always a little sad, as
if some trouble was preying on his thoughts ;
and was always most kind to Lucie, and
kinder still, I thought, to me.

" At length one day, his father, a stately
old gentleman, came down and asked to
see my father ; and he staid with him a half
hour, and the thing was so new, that
the whole village said there would be a
marriage. And I wandered away alone
with little Jacques, and sat down under an
old tree — I shall try hard to find the place
— and twisted a garland for little Jacques
and then tore it in pieces ; and twisted an-
other and tore that in pieces, and then
cried, so that Jacques said he believed I
was crazy. But I kissed him and said,
'no, Jacques, — sister is not crazy !'

" When I went home, I found Lucie
sad, and Papa sober and thoughtful ; but
he kissed me very tenderly, and told me,
as he often did, how dearly he loved me.

" The next day Jean did not come, nor
the next, nor the next after. I could not
bear it any longer, so I asked Papa what
Jean's father had said to him ; and why
Jean did not come .''

" He kissed me, and said that Jean
wanted to take his child away from him.
And I asked him, though I remember I
had hardly breath to do it, — what he had
told him }

" I told him,' said Papa, ' that if Lucie
would marry Jean, and Jean would marry
Lucie, they might marry, and I would give
them a father's blessing.'

" I burst into tears, and my father took
me in his arms ; perhaps he thought I was

so sorry to lose my sister — I know not.
When I had strength to go to our chamber,
I threw myself into Lucie's arms and cried
as if my heart would break.

" She asked me what it meant .' I said
— ' I love you Lucie !' And she said — ' I
love you Lisette !'

" But soon I found that Jean had sent
no message, — that he had not come, — that
all I told Lucie, of what my father had
said, was new to her ; and she cried afresh.
And we dared say nothing of Jean.

" I fancied how it was ; for Jean's father
was a proud gentleman, and would never
make a second request of such Bourgeois
as we.

" Soon we heard that he had gone away,
and had taken Jean along with him. I
longed to follow — to write him even ; but,
poor Lucie ! — I was not certain but he
might come back to claim her. Often and
often I wandered up by his father's old
country house, and I asked the steward's
wife, how he was looking when he wont
away — ' oh,' said she, ' Ic pauore jeune
Jiomme ;' he was so sad to leave his
home !

" And I thought to myself bitterly, did
this make all his sadness ?"

" A whole year passed by and we heard
nothing of him. A regiment had come in-
to the Arrondissement^ and a young officer
came occasionally to see us. iNow, Mes-
sieurs, I am ashamed to tell you what fol-
lowed. Lucie had not forgotten Jean ;
and, I — God knows — had not forgotten
him ! But Papa said that the officer would
make a good husband for me, and he told
me as much himself. I did not disbelieve
him ; but 1 did not love him as I had loved
Jean, and I doubted if Jean would come
back, and I knew not but he would come
back to marry Lucie, though I felt sure that
he loved me better than Lucie.

" So, Messieurs, it happened, that I
married the young officer, and became a
soldier's wife, and in a month went away
from my own old home.

" But that was not the worst. Messieurs ;
before I went, there came a letter from
Paris for me, in Jean's own writing."

Madame turned her head again, and the
Doctor eyed me with a very sympathetic
look. Even the postillion had suffiired his
horses to get into a dog-trot jog, that he now
made up for by a terrible thwacking, and

166

The Cabriolet.

[Feb.

a pestilent shower of oaths, partly I thought
to deaden his own feelings.

" The letter," said Madame, going on,
" told me how he had loved me, how his
father had told him what my father had
said ; and how he had forbidden him in his
pride, to make any second proposal ; and
how he had gone away to forget his griefs,
but could not ; and he spoke of a time,
when he would come back and claim me,
even though he should forget and leave his
father.

"The whole night I cried over that letter,
but never showed it to Lucie. I was glad
that I was going away ; but I could not
love my husband.

" You do not know how sad the parting
was for me ; not so much to leave my
father, and Lucie, and Jacques, but the
old scenes where I had wandered with
Jean, and where we had played together,
and where he was to come back again per-
haps and think as he would of me. I could
not write him a letter even. I was young
then, and did not know but duty to my hus-
band would forbid it. But 1 left a little locket
he had given me, and took out his hair, and
put in place of it a lock of my own, and
scratched upon the back with a needle —
' Jean, I loved you ; it is too late ; I am mar-
ried ; J''en pleurs f And I handed it to
little Jacques, and made him promise to
show it to no one, but to hand it to Jean,
if he ever came again to Semur. Then I
kissed my father, and my sister, and little
Jacques again and again, and bid them all
adieu, as well as I could for my tears ; I
have never been in Semur since, Mes-
sieurs ! — "

She had stopped five minutes, when we
asked her what ever became of Jean.

" You know," continued she, •' that I
could not love my husband, and I was glad
we were going far away, where I hoped I
might forget all that had happened at
home ; but God did not so arrange it.

" We were living in Montpelier ; you
have been in Montpelier Messieurs, and
will remember the pretty houses along the
Rue de Paris ; in one of them we were li-
ving. Every month or two came letters
from Lucie — sad, very sad at the first —
and I forgot about myself through pity of
her. At length came one which told me
that Jean had come back ; and it went on
to say how well he was looking. Poor Lucie

did not know how it all went to my soulj
and how many tears her letters cost me.

" Afterward came letters in gayer tem-
per, still full of the praises of Jean, and
she wondered why I was not glad to
hear so much of him, and wondered that
my letters were growing so sad. Another
letter came still gayer, and a postscript that
cut me to the heart ; the postscript was in
Jacques' scrawling hand, and said that
all the village believed that Jean was to
marry sister Lucie. ' We shall be so glad'
it said ' if you will come home to the wed-
ding ! '

" Oh, Messieurs, I had thought I had
loved Lucie. I am afraid I did not. I
wrote no answer; I could not. By and
by came a thick letter with two little
doves upon the seal. I went to my room,
and barred the door, and cried over it with-
out daring to open it. The truth was as I
had feared — Jean had married Lucie. Oh,
my feelings — my bitter feelings, Messieurs !
Pray Heaven you may never have such !

" My husband grew bitter at my sad-
ness, and I disliked him more and more.
Again we changed our quarters to the
mountains, where the troops had been order-
ed, and for a very long time no letter came
to me from home. I had scarce a heart to
write, and spent day after day in my cham-
ber. We were five years along the Pyren-
nees ; you remember the high mountains
about Pau, and the snowy tops that you
can see from the houses ; but I enjoyed
nothing of it all.

" By and by came a letter with a black
seal, in the straggling hand of my poor
father, saying that Jean and Lucie had gone
over the sea to the Isle of Mauritius, and
that little Jacques had sickened of a fever
and was dead.

" I longed to go and see my old
father ; but my husband could not leave,
and he was suspicious of me, and would
not suffer me to travel across France alone.

" So I spent years more ; only one letter
coming to me in all that time ; whether
stopped by my husband's orders or not I
do not know. At length he was ordered
with his regiment to Chalons sur Marne;
there were old friends of his at Chalons,
with whom he is stopping now. We pas-
sed through Paris and I saw all its won-
ders; yet I yearned to get toward home.

At length we set off for Chalons. It

1850.]

Tlie Cabriolet.

167

was five days before I could get my hus-
band's leave to ride over to my own old
home. I am afraid he has grown to hate
me now.

" You see that old Chateau in ruins,"
said she, pointing out a mossy remnant of
castle, on a hillock to the left — " it is only
two kilometres from Semur. I have been
there often with Jean and Lucie," and
Madame looked earnestly, and with her
whole heart in her eyes, at the tottering old
ruin, which I dare say the Doctor will re-
member, for he asked the postillion the
name and noted it in his green covered
book.

" And your father knows nothing of your
return .^"

" I have written from Chalons," resumed
Madame, " but whether he be alive to read
it, I do not know."

And she began now to detect the cotta-
ges, on which surely in this old country
ten years would make but little difference.
The roofs were covered over with that dap-
pled moss you see in Watelet's pictures,
and the high-stone court-yards were gray
with damp and age.

" ha Voila .'" at length exclaimed
Madame, clapping her hands ; and in the
valley into which we had just turned, and
were now crick-cracking along in the crazy
old cabriolet, appeared the tall spire of
Semur. A brown tower or two flanked it,
and there was a group of gray roofs min-
gled with the trees.

Madame kept her hands clasped, and
was silent. She was weeping.

The Doctor smooths his beard ; the pos-
tillion gives his hat a jaunty air, and cross-
es hhuself, as we pass a church by the
way ; and the farmeries pass us one by
one ; then come the paved streets, and the
pigs, and the turbaned women in Sabots,
and boy's eyes, all intent ; and thick houses,
and provincial shops.

" A nice town," says the Doctor, with
his eye on a pretty shop-girl that we pass.

"The same dear old town of Semur !"
says our female companion. And with a
crack, and a rumble, and a jolt, we are
presently at the door of the inn.

The woman runs her eye hastily over the
inn loungers ; apparently she is dissatis
fied ~" ^ - - -

sists her to dismount

The Doctor clambers down, and as-

" Shall we make any inquiries for her .^"

" Oh Mon Dicu ! J\ii trop depcur /"
She is afraid to ask ; she will go sec ; and
away she starts — turns — throws back her
veil — asks pardon — " we have been so
kind" — Bids God bless us, — waves her
hand, and disappears around an angle of
the old inn.

I never saw her again.

I would have given my knapsack to have
known if her old father was yet alive, or
if Lucie had come back with Jean from
over the sea, or to have seen her at Jacques'
grave ; but all was denied me.

Just in this way, the hurry-scurry of tra-
vel will call out all one's sentiment,and nour-
ish it a little while most daintily, only to give
one in the end such shock of disappoint-
ment, as makes him ten times more sour
and fretful, than if he had never felt his
spirit warmed.

What boots it to know of misery we can-
not alleviate, or to trace out crime that
we can neither punish nor prevent ? Your
sense of justice and of mercy rests dissatis-
fied, and you regret that they did not lie
undisturbed. So too, I believe, there is a
dramatic quality in every man's mind which
makes him yearn for i\\Q finale of whatever
business his passions or his affections may
have made him an actor in ; and when poor
Madame, with her j^retty face, and her
dark hat trimmed up with a bit of lace,
disappeared around the corner of the inn,
and the lumbering old Diligence, with its
four horses, with tails tied up, had drag-
ged us out of all reach of her, and her his-
tory, I felt as nervously unquiet, as if I had
heard a stage-manager announce at the
end of the third act of Macbeth, that the
play would not go on.

But I vowed, that if ever I came again
within sight of the old steeple of Semur, I
would know more of her history.

" And yet," said I to the doctor, "even
so little as she has told us would make a fair
sort of a story."

" Capital !"said the Doctor, puffing a
volume of smoke out of the little Diligence
window.

"And what should we call it.?" said L

The Doctor took his pipe out of his
mouth, ruminated a moment, rammed the
tobacco down with the end of his fore-finger
— " CaU it" said he, " The Cabriolet."

168

Everstone.

[Feb.

EVERSTONE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " ANDERPORT RECORDS."

(Continued from page 97. J

CHAPTER III.

The struggle in the lawyer's mind was a
sharp one, but the moment it was over he
shook himself free from every disposition
to waver or flinch. All the hesitation he
could feel was with regard to undertaking
the case ; once assumed, he was incapable
of prosecuting it otherwise than vigorously.
He immediately set himself to work there-
fore to make every investigation which could
tend to establish the title of his clients. The
grounds of that title, so far at least as the
knowledge of them is necessary to the in-
telligibility of this narrative, admit of a very
simple and brief statement.

Somewhere about the middle of the se-
venteenth century, Roland Compton recei-
ved letters patent containing the grant of a
large tract of land, the boundaries of which
were described. There were six corners
to the tract, at each of which a stone was
planted bearing the initials of the grantee,
and its own number reckoned in order from
the place of beginning. One of these stones,
that numbered fourth, was designated as
placed on the bank of Hardwater Run.
A few years later, a certain Astiville ob-
tained the grant of a body of land lying im-
mediately north of Compton's, and divided
from it for a distance of more than fifteen
hundred poles by the afore-mentioned Run
or creek.

Now, the Hardwater has two branches ;
the upper or north branch, and the lower.
The question was — which was the one re-
ferred to in the original patent of Compton f
If the upper branch, then the whole inter-
vening tract of about four thousand acres
belonged to his heirs or to those who held
of them ; that is, to Newlove, Dubosk and
Schrowder. If the loioer branch, the title
was in John Astiville and the purchaser

Everlyn. The fourth corner-stone, which
might have decided the matter, could not
be found.

Such was the state of the case when So-
mers took it in hand. He was able to show
in behalf of his clients that the prevailing
impression in the neighborhood had been,
that the Compton tract extended to the
upper branch ; yet he was not able to prove
the exercise by that family of any rights of
ownership over it, saving the late sale made
by executors in pursuance of specific direc-
tions of testament ; which sale the other
claimant had immediately resisted. Little
could be effected by the surveyors. The
old patents very rarely had regard to mi-
nute accuracy. Corners were marked and
perhaps the bearings of lines given, but the
chain carriers were often dispensed with.
The attempts that were made to run the
west line in order to search for the stone
where it crossed the two branches, resulted
only in additional perplexity. No allow-
ance that could be tried for variation of
compass, made the lines which were well
known and quite undisputed, either confor-
mable to the courses laid down on the plot,
or consistent with each other. The only
way of explaining the difficulty was, to sup-
pose gross carelessness in the old surveyors,
or — what is more probable, a defect in the
instrument used. It was clear at any rate
that no rule could be derived for ascertain-
ing the unknoivn line.

Somers endeavored to discover how long it
had been that the corner-stone was missing,
but on this head could gain no satisfaction.
Some middle-aged men said they had heard
their fathers, now deceased, speak of the
stone on the Hardwater as an object with
which they were familiar, and as to whose po-

1850.1

Everstone.

169

sition there was no ground to entertain any
doubt. These persons when further ques-
tioned, declared for the most part that a
strong conviction had been left upon their
minds that the stone spoken of was on the
upper branch, yet they could not remem-
ber having ever been expressly told so.
On the other hand, some very old men
whom the lawyer examined, seemed to have
no knowledge of the matter whatever. The
fact was, that until the present controver-
sy arose, the parties most interested had
been extremely negligent. The land in
question lay at a distance from both the
Compton and the Astiville residences ; with
the exception of the inconsiderable portion
occupied by squatters, it had remained a
wilderness ; the families had been more than
once connected by intermarriage, and would,
either, probably have deemed it a very un-
worthy thing to disturb their friendly inti-
macy by too strict an investigation into the
precise boundary separating their tracts of
almost countless acres.

Though the Comptons were not concerned
in the suit, the records of the family were
cheerfully put at the service of those who
held under their title. Most of the papers
of any value had already been scrutinized
by Somers, as recorded in the comity clerk's
office and at the capital of the State. There
was one, however, of considerable impor-
tance which he had never before seen. It
was a mere draught, not signed nor witness-
ed, yet it bore on its face the evidence of
authenticity, and was very capable of pro-
ducing an effect on a jury. In it, reference
was made to some localities which requh-ed
to be explained and verified.

Somers, therefore, after making a few
memoranda in his pocket-book, rode up
the Hardwater. He proceeded first to a
spot where a fine spring gushed out of the
bank, and flowing but a few feet, contribu-
ted its clear current to the lower branch.
Then measuring off ten strides up the stream,
he came to a large stump. The top of the
tree lay upon the ground and its huge limbs
were clothed with leaves yet unwithered ;
but a block some five feet long had been re-
moved, Tom Foley, lived close by, and So-
mers went at once to his house. Before
summoning the man to the door, our shrewd
investigator made the circuit of the squat-
ter's enclosure in order to detect if possible
the object of his search. Near the fence

on the east side, he found one half of a
white-oak log. In length it agreed with
that which had been taken from the brink
of the Run, and a wedge which lay at its
side seemed to show that the other moiety
had not long been separated from it. Just
as he was about to dismount and make a
closer inspection, a villanous looking
cur darted out and saluted him and his
horse with such a yelping clamor as soon
drew forth the master of the premises.

" How do you do, Mr. Foley V said
Somers when the dog lowered his voice to a
key which did not altogether forbid conver-
sation. " Your family are well, I hope."

" Tolerable, thanky sir ; my woman's
sort of complaining to be sure, but she's
seldom otherwise."

" That looks like a tough bit of white-
oak, Mr. Foley."

" Yes," answered the man, giving him
at the same tune a keen and inquisitive
look.

" You got it from near the sprmg yonder,
I see."

" Oh, I don't say where it came from —
it might have been this place or it might
have been that, or, for all I care, it may
have come from no-where."

" I suppose you have no objection to my
turning it over and looking at the other
side .?"

" I have though," said Foley, — " very
strong objections, too. I reckon I know
well enough you are lawyer for the Yan-
kees, and I don't want to get into any
scrape about cutting down their timber —
not that /cut this stick, or that it came
from the corner — I mean the tree by the
branch — but then it can't do me any good
to have you projecking about here, so you
may as well be contented up in your sad-
dle where you are.

" What has become of the other half, Mr.
Foley — is it burnt up .'"

" Oh don't trouble yourself about the
other half, there's not any cause by no
means. You'll see it I reckon full as soon
as you want to, and in a place may be where
you don't expect. It might light on
top of some folks' head for what I know,
and then it will be apt to make them see
stars."

" That would be terrible indeed," said
Somers smiling, but I am inclined to think
that the man who undertook to shoulder

170

Everstone.

[Feb.

such a log as this would be more likely to
sink down crushed by his load than to hurl
it upon the head of another."

Foley was about to say something in an-
swer but checked himself, and Somers per-
ceiving that nothing more was to be got
out of him, struck through the woods to
the Upper Branch of the Hardwater. The
distance was not very great, perhaps half
a mile, and it was this proximity which add-
ed difficulty to the interpretation of the
patents. If the streams destined to unite in
the end had been as far apart here as they
became lower down, the enormous diiference
that would have been made between the
two constructions of the length of the
west line of the Compton tract could hardly
have allowed of the matter's being brought
into doubt. A wide gravelly bed, with here
and there a slimy pool connected by a small
feebly-trickling rill ; such was the Upper
Branch as Somers found it. Taking out
his memorandum, he rode down the bank.
His watchful glance seemed to detect no-
thing that gave him satisfaction, and turning
round he proceeded about an ecpal distance
up the stream. That which he looked for
still shunned his sight. Whilst thus busily
though fruitlessly occupied, the figure of a
man stretched at length at thelfoot of a Syc-
amore on the opposite side of the run
caught his eye. He hastened thither, but
on the way his horse's hoof rang against a
stone and startled the S(ilitary from his me-
ditation or slumber. The man sprang to
his feet, gazed for a moment at the horse-
man with an expression indicative of anxiety
or vexation, and strode away into the
woods.

Somers spoke, but the figure only walk-
ed on the fiister. The pursuer spurred his
steed and would soon have overtaken him
had he not suddenly turned toward the
right, and with great agility run up a hill
too steep and too much encumbered with
rocks to be safely ascended by a mounted
man.

Somers determined not to be baffled, and
fastening his horse to a saplint? followed the
chase on foot. The advantage of youth
was on his side, and he gained ground at
every instant. On the summit a little
cleared spot appeared. The fugitive sprang
over the fence which surrounded it, and
then, though rushing at the top of his speed,
inclined a few yards to one side in order to

avoid trampling on a bed of flourishing to"
bacco plants. Somers unafiected by simi-
lar scruples, took the inost direct course to
the cabin in the middle of the lot. Still
the other was first at the door, and enter-
tering, closed it with violence in the face
of the pursuer. His fury, however, brought
its own defeat ; the upper hinge was shat-
tered by the jar, and the door fell at full
length, disclosing the whole interior of the
room. The single occupant could be plain-
ly seen. His hair, long, shaggy and white,
hung about a visage so thin and sharp that,
aided by the lankness of his lower person,
it made him appear not merely tall, as he
was, but of super-human height. Yet
there was much of dignity in his counte-
nance, and it was with a manner far more
composed and impressive than the lawyer
expected, that after a moment's pause he
was the first to speak,

"Will you tell me sir what your busi-
ness may be .'"

Somers' object was to gather witnesses,
and he thought he had a special right to
every old man he could find. His captive
was a treasure. Living on the very line,
as it were, of the two patents, and if ap-
pearances were to be trusted, an octogena-
rian at least in age, it seemed that if any
living man were capable of giving the de-
sired information he should be. His pro-
fession, of course, supplied the lawyer with
sufficient effi'ontry to prevent his feeling
any embarrassment at such an unceremon-
ious intrusion, so he answered very calmly :

" You have lived a long while in this
spot, I presume .?"

" Long ^ What do you call long } Time
is but the creature of the mind — I came
here yesterday — yet when I came that tree
(he pointed to an oak of some eight or ten
inches diameter,) was an acorn."

" At least," said Somers, " you are
well acquainted with the country around."

" WTio knows it better .?" replied this
singular individual. '' The hawk ^ — poor
short-sighted thing, he strikes his prey one
morning, and on the morrow passes over
the place and recognizes it not. The ser-
pent } It deposits its eggs in the sand,
and knows not that the ground nourishes
other adders than those which belong to its
own crawling kind. There are secrets
buried in the earth of which the mole or
the musk-rat cannot inform you, which I

1850.]

Everstone,

111

am able to tell you. Know this land ?
Why there is not a tree nor shrub upon it
^yhich is not familiar to my eyes. Task
me, and I will show you every hill-top
where fall the dew and the rain which bub-
ble out in each spring that the rabbit drinks
of."

Somers began to suspect that he had to
do with a madman, but by no means des-
paired of gaining some useful hints if not
positive information.

" I have lost my way," he said, " I am
sure you can put me right — "

" Ay, that can I — by night or day I can
lead you as safely as if a lantern and a
finger-board were on every tree — I can
lead you straighter than the bee flies,
straighter than the loadstone points. Where
would you go } — teU me quick — so that I
may be alone."

" The place which I wish to reach is
the fourth Corner-stone — the Compton cor-
ner on the Hardwater."

At this declaration, the man gave Somers
a look such as he never experienced before
nor after. What emotion burned in it he
could not discern — it certainly was not
anger, it did not appear to be terror. The
only way in which he subsequently at-
tempted to describe it, was by declaring
that it seemed to imprint upon his mind the
conviction that the being from whom it came
did not belong to humanity ; that it was the
expression of passions which our. nature
does not feel and is incapable of conceiv-
ing.

The man without speaking a word, sud-
denly sat down upon a rude stool and turn-
ing his back to the visitor covered his eyes
with his hands, and leaned his head upon
the edge of the table. As to the time he
remained in this posture, Somers had no
clear idea — it appeared like the space of fif-
teen or twenty minutes — though it was pro-
bably not so long. Then rising up calmly,
he said :

" What would you have Sir .?"
" I wish to get you to conduct me to the
Compton corner."

The old man's agitation was renewed,
but this time it was manifested in a differ-
ent fashion — clenching his hands and ges-
ticulating violently, he exclaimed in a high
piercing tone — " What mean you } — who
on earth has a right to look at that spot,
but I } How dare you ask to share my

VOL. V. JfO. II. NEW SERIES.

company thither — can you also share my
thoughts? Getyougone! — getyougone !"
Then, for a few moments, his eyes were
vacant and inexpressive ; he stood motion-
less, not a muscle quivered — even breath
was scarcely inhaled : his mind appeared
totally abstracted and unconscious of the
things about him.

At last, to Somers' great surprise, who
felt himself quite bewildered by these sud-
den changes, he extended his right hand,
" Good-bye sir — I'm sorry I cannot urge
you to remain, but look around and judge
whether it woidd be hospitality to ask you
to partake of such lodging. Hermitages
are pleasant in the poets, but few love them
in real life — yet you are waiting for your
horse ; stay, I will have it brought. But
what am I saying } Excuse me, sir, I'm
getting old and forget myself strangely. I
once had stables — but now — yet why do I
speak of it ? I do not deserve to possess any-
thing. By the way, sir, it sometimes appears
to me as a blessing to be weaned from riches
in this life, and the earlier the better : when
a man is about to die, he is glad- enough, I
think, to empty his soul of the love of
money. What is your opinion, sir .^"

" Well, for my part," said Somers, " I
think that our object should be to do as
much good as we can. If we possess riches,
let us benefit others by their use — are we
poor .' it is still possible to do good. If we
make some sacrifice in the efibrt — the
greater the praise it merits. There are
many modes of exercismg charity. A little
information, sometimes, given when need-
ed, may be better than the gifts of dollars
or eagles. If, for instance, you would point
out to me the spot I seek, you would be
the means of bringing about a just and
righteous event."

The other listened with profound atten-
tion and answered,

" Say no more, I know what you mean
— but it is a thing you ought not to ask.
What yom- business is I am ignorant, but
be it what it may, the business of this world
has no claim upon me — I stand midway be-
tween the past and the future. Once I was
living ; hereafter, I may live : now I but
exist. My heart is in my bosom ; — you
are not he that hath the right to bid me
pluck it forth and exhibit its gasping de-
formity."

" Will you not accompany me a short
12

172

Everstone.

[Feb.

distance," said Somers, "and put me on
my way out of the woods ?"

The hermit assented. As they passed
through the yard he stopped and raised up
some tobacco plants which Somers had
trampled down, and with his hands very
carefully drew earth around them. This
task over he resumed his walk. Somers
proceeded at his side, determined to suffer
him to choose the direction. He retraced
without deviation the very route by which
they had raced to the cabin. Very soon the
edge of the rocky descent was reached.
The horse was visible standing quietly at
the bottom. Here the guide stopped.

" Will you not go further .^" said So-
mers.

" No ; there's your beast — mount, and
if you have lost your way, give him a loose
rein and he will take you surely to a place
of habitation."

So saying, he turned abruptly and sought
his lonely abode.

Somers, abandoning the thought of any
further search along the Upper Branch, set
out in the direction of Daylsborough. Af-
ter travelling some half a dozen miles he
came to Murray's store. This was a small
straggling village, containing a shop where
ail sorts of things were bought and sold at
prices arguing well for the profits of the
merchant, a blacksmith's shanty, a house
of private entertainment and a Post Office.
The proprietor of the whole was Samuel
Murray, a trig, dapper little man, who deliv-
ered letters, posted items of smith-work,
measured off calico, and mingled mint-ju-
leps, with equal alacrity and skill. It
was an excellently situated stand, and in
consideration of the long dreary miles that
radiated from it in every direction, there
were few travellers who had the courage to
pass without halting. Somers had no de-
sire to be singular, and committing his horse
to the groom, sat down sociably in the
porch by the side of Sam Murray.

" So you are attending well to your cli-
ents, Mr. Somers, I perceive — that daugh-
ter of Newlove's, by the way, is a right
down nice little lady, and they say that the
man who gets her, will be blessed at the
same time with a very pretty heap of coin,
too. You are lucky, sir, to be first in the
field, and I have no doubt will distance
every thing else that puts in."

Somers laughed and replied — " ob, I

don't deserve to win an heiress — be assured
the course is quite open as far as concerns me,
I did not even call to see the lady this time."

" Indeed ! — well you must be busy with
the patent-case, certain. Kit's no harm to
ask, Mr. Somers, how do you like the looks
of things — do the New York gentlemen
stand tolerably safe .'"'

" Yes sir, I really think they do."

" Of course it don't become me," said
the landlord, " to be either glad or sorry.
A body, you knovi^, can't help standing up
sort-of, for the old families — but then the
Yankees are first-rate pay. They have a
pert, inquisitive kind of manner, to be sure,
and look sharp into everything they get,
but if a body knows how to take them,
they are not worse than other people to
deal with. Indeed, I believe one of our
natives will out-trade a Yorker all hollow.
Never mind what you take to them they'll
pretend to understand everything about it
better than you do yourself — and you know
if a man's smart, he can make a conceited
person believe anything."

" I dare say you are right, Mr. Murray
— no one, at any rate, ought to be abetter
judge of such matters. All the world knows
that Sam Murray was never caught asleep."

" Don't talk so for gracious sake," said
Murray, modestly. " I shall have to learn
how to blush. I might have done to pass
among a crowd, but that I have some drops
of Yankee blood in me, which makes my
Southern smartness too weak to stand in-
spection— my grandfather came from Con-
necticut. I hope, though, the breed's most
acclimated by this time — I am trying to
train my hoijs to. talk smooth and soapy to
customers, T^ithbut blowing blasts through
their noses fit to scare. As for their dad-
dy, the only way he can scratch along is
to try to know everybody — this saves from
losing, and the man that loses nothing is
mighty apt to gain a little once in a while."

" Your referrinsx," said Somers, " to
your extensive acquamtance, renuncls me
to ask you to tell me something about a
man I met to-day — a very tall person with
long white hair. He lives on the north
side of the Upper Fork of the Hardwptter,
about five miles, I suppose, from here."

" You are most too hard for me there,"
answered Murray, " I understand who you
mean, but that's pretty much all the satis-
faction I can give you. He built himself

1850.]

Everstone.

173

that cabia twenty years ago — where he
came from then nobody knows. He's very
shy and unsociable, and stays by himself.
When he was first about, some person asked
him his name ; he said that was no one's
business but his own, and wouldji't tell.
He's apt, in fact, to be contrary and obsti-
nate in everything."

" Is he deranged .?" inquired Somers.

" Why, I think not. He's queer, but
I reckon there's nothing else the matter.
He comes down here sometimes when he's
in want of anything out of the store, and
he always seems cute enough."

" He has money then .^"

" Why, no, he brings wild-turkeys, and
muskrat skins, and tobacco, too, when he
raises more than he wants himself. He
uses no shooting fix, they say, but
catches the wild things he gets with some
kind of gins, and snares, and nets."

" He acknowledges no name, you inform
me."

"Oh, that was only at the first — I was
the one who got him to own up. I tell
you how I managed it ; one day he brought
some plunder to the store and got a piece
of shirt cotton for it ; there was a little bal-
ance in his favor which he wanted to take
out in a coil of rope. When I told him
that the rope came to some two shillings
more than his due, he answered, ' never
mind, I'll take it and square oif accounts
next time. ' ' Certainly,' says I, spreading out
my book very quick, ' what name shall I
charge it to, sir V He gave me a curious
kind of a look, but answered after a little,
' put down Cain.' So he's been Mr. Cain
ever since."

" There used to be a family of Cains
about here, did there not .'"' said the lawyer.

" So the old folks say," replied the
other, " and it's quite likely this is one of
the set, who went away from the country
when he was young, and afterwards took a
notion to come back. No person, though,
recollected having ever seen him before."

Somers remained silent some moments,
pondering over the information he had re-
ceived.

Sam Murray, who loved to be all the
time either talking or listening, interrupted
his reflections, by saying : " I reckon you
havn't found the missing corner yet — it's
a very queer thing, isn't it, that that stone
is hid away so close .'"

" It ?'* strange," answered Somers, "and
what is most unaccountable about the af-
fair, is the fact that no one appears to have
seen it, while there are dozens who declare
they have heard of its having been seen,
perhaps no longer time ago than fifty years.
A person would have supposed it the easiest
matter in the world to prove the anciently
understood locality of the corner — though
the stone itself were lost. If the situation
could be pointed out within a rod or two
even, there would be a possibility of iden-
tifying some old marked trees on the line
running southward from it. I have abun-
dance of documentary evidence, but that
sort of proof which ought to be obtained
with least difficulty, seems to fly all search.
The Compton title stands, as it is, on suf-
ficiently secure ground ; yet I know what
the jury are disposed to ask for, and should
be glad to content them in every respect."

"Youai-e right, Mr. Somers," said ]Mur-
ray, " a jury is more apt to be taken with
a plain man's say-so than with learned
figurations. Now, if I was in your place,
sir, I would look around some among the
blacks. They have a great many wild in-
credible stories to tell about the Hardwater
corner, but some useful hints might be ob-
tained, which could put you in the way
of getting testimony worth offering in
court."

" It is an excellent suggestion," said the
lawyer, " and if you would inform me of
any old negroes from whom something
might be derived, you would confer a great
favor. I have sought out some few myself,
but I confess with little profit. Your ac-
quaintance among them is, of course, ne-
cessarily more extensive than mine."

Sam Murray replied with the manner of
a man fully aware of his own importance.
" As I said before, Mr. Somers, it don't
become me to be oflicionsly concerned on
either side — my position as well as my in-
clination requires me to be neutral. I
should hope, if the thing weren't contrary
to nature, that both parties might be suc-
cessful."

" And so should I, with all my heart,"
observed Somers.

"But," continued the landlord, " since
that can't be, I must look on in content-
ment, whatever tm-ns up. So, therefore,
as my breast is filled with these sentiments,
' nobody can accuse me of partiality against

174

Everstone.

[Feb,

either Mr. Astiville or Mr. Evelyn, in
talking indiscriminately and frankly to a
lodgei^like you. By the way, you mean
to stay all night, I suppose, sir .?"

"Certainly," said Somers, in a tone
which was far from betraying the reluc-
tance of a forced determination. " I could
not leave without having a good long chat
with an old friend like you."

" You will have a chance then to see
Naomi Fuller, an old Nigfjer wench, who
I'll be bound knows as much as any of the
tribe. She'll roll you out some curious
yarns ; how much of them is to be depended
upon, you yourself must decide. She will
be in at the store during the course of the
afternoon and I will point her out to you."
Murray was as good as his word. So-
mers strolled off carelessly so as to be able
to intercept the old woman and have a quiet
talk with her. It was not long before
he observed her trudging energetically
in the direction of his ambush — stepping
out, he suffered her to overtake him, and
then accommodating himself to her pace,
sauntered at her side. He soon got good
Naomi talking very sociably. He listened
sympathetically to the account of her ail-
ments, and when she remarked in what
urgent need she happened to stand of a
nine-pence, he drew out his purse and after
pretending a fruitless search for a coin of
the denomination mentioned, handed her
half a dollar. She returned a most pro-
found courtesy, and said, " Thanky massa,
thanky."

" Aunty," said Somers, when he thought
he had opened the way sufficiently, "have
you ever seen the Compton corner-stone
on the Hardwater — the fourth corner-
stone."

" Thank heaven, marster," she answer-
ed, " 1 has never seen it — bless your life,
child — it would be better for my eyes to
be clean out rather than they should look
on that piece of rock."

" Why is that .?" said Somers.
" Do yer ask why," she exclaimed,
" Isn't there a sperrit what watches over
it } Certain and sure nobody can see the
stone without seein' the sperrit likewise ;
and who'd want to see it .?"

" Yet," argued Somers, " I do not sup-
pose spirits haunt any spot without a reason
— but what reason is there in this case >
Why is this corner worse than any of the

others .? I suppose no ghosts keep guard
over them."

" But what other corner-stone besides
this,'' said Naomi, impressively, " is the
headstone of a grave V

"Ha!" said Somers, "I have heard
some vague report of this kind — but there
is no truth in it, is there .'"'

" But it is true though," answered the
hag, shaking her head, " it would be well if
it weren't. All of them stones was put
down regular and right — there was no grave
when the fourth one was planted no more
than when the rest — man's wickedness
made that arterwards, and see the foUowincr
of it ! What other stone is missing but
that } — don't you find 'em just where they
was fixed at fii'st } Why should that one
only be moved V

" Who then is buried there V said the
lawyer, " and what caused his death .'"'

" Don't ax me — don't ax me — " re-
plied Naomi, with an uneasy an-. "Bless
you mai'ster, I 'cuses nobody — nobody in
the world ; that's a wicked, awful place —
that's all."

" You need not be afraid to talk to me^
freely, aunty," said Somers, compelled to
make considerable bodily exertion, so rapid
was the rate at which she now proceeded,
" there cannot be any harm in speaking to
a person who will never breathe to any one
where it was he gained the information."
" No — no," said Naomi, still walking
on as fast as she could. " Old birds are
scary, master. Ask white people, for there
is them that knows, but don't try to coax
a poor worn out servant into trouble."

" Tell me this, however, aunt Naomi,

how are you sure that there is a grave at

the corner, when you have never seen it.'"'

" Can't say nothin' 'bout it ;" was her

reply.

" Yet, good Naomi," continued the law-
yer, perseveringly, " I know you don't want
to lead me into error. It is a very impor-
tant matter to ascertain whether'br not this
fact be as you represent. May you not be
mistaken — is it an unquestionable fact —
one to be relied on as a thing established,
that this grave really exists where you
say V

" I'm not mistaken, marster — it's ascer-
tain as that the sun shines this blessed min-
ute. I'm a poor weakly creatur ; there
aint no larnin', and mighty little sense in

1850.]

Everstone.

175

my old skull, but some thino;s I knows —
and this are one of them. Wherevei- that
stone are, there's the grave stretchin' off
from it — a long grave too, not a hole such
as babies' corpses is put in — there the sperrit
wavers and flickers over it — these things
is certain. I know, besides, that the stone
aint ever goin' to be found. When the men
came out with their compasses and spying
fix, says I, 'twon't come to nothin' — and
so it didn't. You might get an English
compass and 'twould be the same — the iron
aint on the yearth, or in it, that can pint to
that horrid, odious place."

" I thank you," said Somers, " for what
you have told me. It is of little use, how-
ever, unless I knew of somebody to look to
by whom I could prove it. Now, if you
can tell me of any white person who wUl be
willing to testify that there is a grave at that
spot, I will cheerfully give you this doUar."

Naomi opened her lips as if to speak ;
then closed them ; finally the temptation
proved too strong. " There's plenty of
white people," she said, " who knows as
well as I do — that is, most so well — what
I know, I know, and it's nothin to nobody ;
but there's Josh Evans could tell you a
sight, still he's way off some-where, he
may ba dead for what I can say. Yes,
there's nobody else has as much 'quaint-
ance 'bout it as Josh. But there's others
as can say somethin'' — Jeems Watson,
Dick Bryan, Sol Simms — most every old
body around, if you'd question tight, could
speak a heap. But don't go to any man
that John Astiville has lent money to."

She made this last remark in a very low
tone, and taking the dollar which he offered,
separated from him hurriedly, as if she appre-
hended that she had already said too much.

Somers was quite at a loss how to esti-
mate the communications which had been
made to him. He was well aware of the
superstition of the negro mind, but there
was something in the manner of the old
woman while she uttered her declaration,
which seemed to denote a conviction having
a real and substantial foundation. Her
statements, too, agreed with some dark hints
received previously and from a very differ-
ent quarter. The lawyer's mind also dwelt
much upon the man called Cain. Whether
that individual were sane or not, Somers
felt quite confident that he must be aware
of the true site of the corner. His ag-ita-

tion when the spot was mentioned was very
remarkable. Naomi's story appeared to
point to some crime connected with the
stone — could it be that Cain was the per-
petrator, and that his singular conduct was
the effect of remorse } Somers worried
himself in vain with trying to arrange the
wild, grotesque materials that had been that
day furnished him, into a shapely, con-
sistent, and probable whole. " If, how-
ever," he thought to himself, " I could but
make that white-haired man speak, I am
confident I would have a witness worth
more than all the rest put together."

It is not to be supposed that while the
attorney of the New Yorkers displayed such
activity and zeal, there was any remissness
on the other side. Everlyn, who had all
faith in the rightfulness and legal sufficiency
of his title, was not willing to omit any
honorable means of securing the great stake
which was put at hazard in the event.
Astiville had endeavored to rid himself of
any trouble in the matter, by disposing of the
remaining fom-th of the tract. The northern-
er however, whom he got to look at it, was
too wary to buy a law suit. He admitted
the value of the land — indeed his eyes
shone, as he spoke of it — but calculated
that it woidd be "jest as well, and a leetle
batter," to wait awhile. AstivUle, accor-
dingly, small as was his love of the expenses
attending litigation, saw there was no
escape. The case being thus, he thouo-ht
that what was worth any effort at all was
worth a vigorous effort, and though he did
not communicate every one of his measures
to Mr. Everlyn, that gentleman fortunately
shared the benefit of them.

Mutual sympathy and a common interest
naturally gave rise to a very warm and
cordial intercourse between the families.
Everlyn did not indeed find in his neigh-
bor that liberality of sentiment, nor that
open, frank, and liberal manner, by which
his own character was distinguished and
adorned. Yet it was pleasant to have as
warmly interested and attentive a listener,
whenever he desired to talk of the subject
that for the time engrossed all his thoughts
and desires. Astiville's shrewdness, also,
and fertihty, and unfaultering confidence
in a favorable result, supplied a grateful
support to a mind of itself somewhat too
easily inclined to despondency.

Sidney Everlyn had no mother, and the

176

Everstone.

[Feb.

company of Mrs. Astiville, a kind-hearted,
well-bred woman, was worthily appreciated.
That the old lady was proud and had higher
notions of family dignity, than these modern
leveling times respect, could form no ob-
stacle to an intimacy with her newly ac-
quired friend. The Everlyns might not
have been as much favored by fortune as
the Astivilles, yet there certainly was no
family in the State which could boast
purer or more ancient blood. To this eflfect
Mrs. Astiville frequently expressed herself,
in the presence of her children. When
such sanction cleared the way, it is not
wonderful that the young folks became
charmed with one possessing in herself so
many lovely and attractive qualities. How-
ard, the only grown son stUl at home, was
least of all exempt from her influence : it
must be added, that the young gentleman
was by no means incapable of pleasing a
lady in turn. Tall, rather graceful than
robust, possessing hair of th.'^ color of the
Indian's, and a complexion which, though
dark, suited well with a countenance slightly
tinged perhaps with melancholy, yet ex-
pressive of pride, generosity, and intellect —
such was Howard Astiville in appearance.
His character, so far as then developed, was
sufficiently similar to justify the science of
Lavater. Reserved and retiring he was,
because he scorned to take a lower position
than he deserved, and was too sensitive and
modest to press into a higher. Great things
he would willingly have attempted, had he
known the way, but he shrank from the only
true preparation for great achievements —
he would not begin by attempting the little.
Pride is not self-reliance, and Howard
chose rather to continue in his ambiguous
and undefined station than to incur the
risk of fjiilure in cases where fiiilure must
be attended with shame. A nature of this
kind is prepared to yield i-eadily to love,
for in the pursuit to which this passion im-
pels, one may be distrustful of self, and yet
lose no dignity, nay, may even contem-
plate final defeat with a quasi composure,
since it involves no degradation.

Some days subsequent to Somers' last ex-
ploration of the Hardwater, Howard came
over to Everstone at a sweeping gallop.

"News — news. Miss Everlyn !" he cried
as soon as he saw the young lady, " the
stone is found — do you care to learn on
•which Branch ? "

"Your manner tells me," said Sidney,
" you do not look like the bearer of bad
tidings."

" No, no," said the young man, smiling
joyously, " if the news had been ill, some
other messenger than Howard Astiville
must have been found to bring it to you.
But where think you is the corner-stone
found.?"

" Near the oak tree by the spring .''"

" Yes," said Howard, " that is the very
spot — there can be no doubt at all — Ever-
stone stands solid and secure. To think
that Yankee feet should have threatened to
profane this hall, or that a Yankee axe had
been whetted to fell these glorious old trees,
fit shade for a mansion which has rejoiced
among English oaks ! Ah, how delight-
ful it is to reflect that the ruthless Barbarians
are disappointed, foUed. Yet you do not
exult Miss Everlyn — "

"I was thinking of the danger," an-
swered Sidney, " not of the escape — are
you sure that there is not even now room
for apprehension .?"

" Not the least in the world. My father
said at the very first, that the sole reason
he had for entertaining the smallest doubt
of our success, was on account of the law-
yer the others were lucky enough to get :
he said that if any bod^^ could make their
case strong — Richard Somers was the man.
But so plain is the matter now, that even
Somers himself, I judge, will be puzzled to
beat up a cloud capable of obscuring it."

Sidney blushed at this undisguised tribute
to the ability of her lover, but merely said,
" I never could doubt that the right must
triumph — "

" Nor I neither," returned Howard.
"And what presumption it was in the
fellows to dispute the assurance of an
Astiville. Who ought to know about the
boundary so well as my father ? And
whose honor should pass unquestioned if
not his } It might have been known then
at once that when he declared that his line
extended to such a place, it could not have
been said without adequate ground. He
must speak from information, and who shall
dare affirm that a hundred thousand acres
could tempt him to swerve one hair's breadth
from what he knew to be the truth."

" My father at least," said Sidney, " did
not question his word. When Mr. Astiville
assured him that he believed his title as far

1850.]

Everstone.

177

as the Lower Branch to bo good, he never
for one moment conceived it possible that
the word could be dictated by aught save
honor and good faith — "

" And you see now," said Howard, with
proud animation, " how well-grounded was
that confidence. Thank Heaven, we have
not yet sunk to the level of these mercenary
Yankees — we are conscious of no necessity
to deal with each other as with rogues. A
southern gentleman may rely upon his
friend with a foith which a Northerner can
never feel in all the precautions of suspicion
and all the vigilance of avarice. What a
detestable training is that which teaches a
human being to have no other object in life
but to over-reach his neighbors. They
taunt us Southerners with want of thrift —
long may we be preserved from such thrift
as theirs !"

" If they misapprehend our character,"
replied Sidney, " should it not be a lesson
to us to avoid judging uncharitably of them
in return } There may be honesty and
virtue in Galilee as well as in Jerusalem."

"Doubtless," answered Howard — "we
should not hate the strangers, but you must
acknowledge that it is impossible to help
laughing at them. Think of creatures not
only destitute of taste, but absolutely in-
capable of comprehending what it is — think
of their ridiculous manners, their stiff,
awkward, hitching gait ; even to hear them
talk is a comedy."

"Yet as to that," interrupted Sidney,
"we should not forget, that we ourselves
have been subjects for ridicule on account
of the peculiarity of our speech."

" I admit it. Miss Everlyn, but surely
the language of ' whar' is somewhat better
than the language of ' ben.' As it was in
France, the rough northern invaders may
beat us down by weight of fist, yet southern
intellect and southern literature will after
all be found to last the longest. The
Langue d'oc will in the end triumph over
the langue d'oni."

" You mean to say," said Sidney, " that
the Langue d' oxes wUl vanquish the
Langue d' oxens.''''

Howard laughed at the new version and
replied, " Well, for my part, I am willing to
take ground even on this distinction. Our
plural certainly has the merit of being
conformed to analogy. Noah Webster
himself being judge, I think we should
carry the day. Consistency is a jewel — if

we give way to the Yankees in this, they
will reform the whole dictionary. It was
but the other morning I heard one of them
say — not to me, for be assured I do not
court their company, but to some body or
other whom he had caught — ' the houscn
down here don't hold a candle to them to
the north for bein' snug and tight.' Thus
among our masters, ' housen' has already
supplanted houses ; it will nexc supplant
house, and then we will be favoured with
the improved plural houscns. Such is an
example of the progress and amelioration
of language. Well it is for our country
that the genius of the north, under the stim-
ulus of common schools, is ever advancing,
for we, poor uninstructed creatures, are
simple enough to talk as our fathers talked."

" Surely," answered Sidney, " you are
not so bold as to contemn the system of
common schools — the great invention of
the age .'' Or, if you do really cherish
such an antediluvian opinion, be careful at
least not to avow it abroad. We already
bear the reproach of being antiquated and
old-fashioned, and patriotism — if you enter-
tain no personal awe of the world's frown —
should forbid your throwing upon our State
an additional scandal."

" Oh, no," said Howard, "I am not
guilty of such audacity. Common schools
may be excellent things ; but if these men
be sj)ecimens of their fruits, the institution,
like most other new pieces of machinery,
will admit of considerable improvement.
Redland county cannot boast of many ed-
ucational advantages — to use the fashiona-
ble phrase — but I never yet have seen one
of its natives, excepting negroes, — and I
might almost venture to comprehend them
in the category, — who would commit as
many violations of grammatical propriety in
a whole day's talk as you may find certain
persons to astound you with in fifteen min-
utes."

" But, sir," said Sidney, " you have
yourself acknowledged your incompetency
to be a fair witness. You say you shun
these new settlers. Depend upon it, then,
that the best of them, like the best of any
other class, are the most retiring and quiet.
It is the nature of ignorance to push itself
forward ; it hails notice with an unalloyed
gratification, for it is insensible to the ridi-
cule by which that notice may be accom-
panied. I dare say now that it would re-
quire no very protracted search to find

178

Everstone.

[Feb.

among these new comers many who by no
means resemble those who have unfortun-
ately struck your fancy."

" Ah, since you plead for them," re-
plied the young gentleman in a gallant tone,
" I must needs confess my precipitancy.
Henceforth I am ready to esteem them as
paragons. I will not call them champions
of progress, but exemplars of very perfec-
tion ! There are a few, however, I suppose,
who are less legitimate objects of laughter
than the rest — whether their better ac-
quaintance with Lindley Murray and the
dancing master be not attended with addi-
tional powers of knavery, is a question ad-
mitting of some doubt. This fellow, New-
love, for instance, is a more decent looking
man than most of them , but judge you wheth-
er it is our duty to love him very heartily."

" Do you know his daughter .'" inquired
Sidney.

" No, but I've seen her in church."

" She is handsome, is she not.?" added
the lady with true feminine curiosity.

" I should not call her so by any means,"
answered Howard- " She has rather a
pleasant countenance, but that is all the
praise which can be given it. Yet, Miss
Newlove need not sigh for fairer features,
since she has charms more certain of meet-
ing general appreciation."

" Her father is wealthy, I believe," re-
marked Sidney.

" No, he has little or nothing, I under-
stand. Miss Emma ' holds the lines,' to
quote the characteristic expression of one
of their Yankee friends. That is to say,
in the langue d' oxes^ Miss Everlyn, our
contemned vernacular, ' she possesses a con-
siderable fortune in her own right.' "

Sidney, after musing awhile, said,
" Well, I am glad that it is so. If, un-
fortunately, our safety cannot be secured
without another's loss, we should be brutal
indeed not to hope that our opponent may
lose without being reduced to consequent
distress and poverty."

" If," answered Howard, " the accounts
of her riches be not greatly exaggerated,
she may well afford to throw away twenty
or thirty thousand dollars in her jaunt to
Redland."

" As the corner is identified, the suit
will soon be brought to a decision, I pre-
sume," observed Sidney.

"At next court, probably," rejoined
Howard. " No postponement will come

from our side, of course ; and, by the way,
I must not forget to tell you, that to pre-
vent Somers and his clients from wear-
ing out our patience by continual delays, it
is proposed to keep secret our discovery of
the stone. Taken thus by surprise, the
cunning lawyer will have no room for sub-
terfuge. How amused I shall be at his
confusion, and then to see the New York-
ers spread open their great eyes and to hear
them in various tones ejaculate ' sure !' "

"Take good note of it by all means,"
said Sidney, " so as to be able afterwards
to describe the scene for my edification."

" I will, most assuredly," answered How-
ard, " and if the account does not secure
you a good laugh, it must be the fault of
the reporter, for I am confident that a more
mirth-exciting drama was never performed
than that which is to be exhibited next
Monday at Daylsborough."

" It has also a very serious interest,"
observed Miss Everlyn, thoughtfully.

" Yes, it is a tragi- comedy," said How-
ard, taking his hat to depart.

Court day came, and great was the gath-
ering at the county seat. Vai'ious conflict-
ing whispers passed through the crowd.
"I thought from the very first," said one,
"that the Yankees were safe when they
hung on to the Compton patent. " Another
answered — " First thoughts are not always
wise thoughts, neighbor, as I reckon you'll
find." A third said nothing, but gave a
significant shake of the head. Finally the
vague impression began to prevail very
generally that the parties opposed to the
New Yorkers woidd "go it with a rush."
The important case came up in its order.
Somers showed no desire for its postpone-
ment. The counsel of Everlyn and Asti-
ville exchanged glances, but were prudent
enough to dissemble their eagerness. A
jury was impannelled. The elation of the
adherents of the old families was now
scarcely restrained. Looks were cast
around the room, and ominous remarks
made, such as "It is'nt brought in yet,"
" Don't be scared, it's coming, though,"
and " Somebody will light on somebody
presently like a hawk on a June-bug."

Somers seemed strangely unobservant of
the signs of the times, or perhaps he foresaw
the approaching tempest, yet was too proud
to manifest apprehension. At all events, no
spectator coidd detect the slightest ruffle in
his calm — almost apathetic — composure.

1850.]

Everstone.

179

CHAPTER IV.

Mr. Mason, Astiville's principal law-
yer, was disposed to allow the other side to
bring forward whatever it could, before he
showed his own strength. Somers, nothing
backward, told the jurymen in few words,
that the simple question for them to decide
was, which of the Branches, or Forks, of
the Hardwater was the one intended in the
patent of Roland Compton } " The pre-
cise situation of the corner-stone," said he,
" is a matter, in itself, of comparatively
little importance. When the true Hard-
water Run is found, the controversy ends.
The west line of the tract in dispute — the
line, I mean — connecting the two branches,
is a short one, and whether it be inclined
a little this way or that, can make but a dif-
ference of a few acres, and with this differ-
ence neither Mr. Astiville nor Mr. Ever-
lyn can have any thing to do, for the land
westward belongs to others. I repeat then,
that all that is required of you to-day is, to
decide which of the two streams is meant
in Compton's patent. Now, proof is at
hand that the opinion has prevailed almost
universally throughout the community,
that the Upper or Northern Branch is
Compton's line. Recollect, if you please,
gentlemen, that this universal impression
is almost the strongest evidence possible
for a fact of this kind. Men may be mis-
taken in regard to a particular corner —
such an error may even be propagated and
prevail very extensively — but it is scarcely
conceivable that the general belief as to
the course of a line stretching for a dis-
tance of almost five miles, can be wrong."

Witnesses were introduced whose testi-
mony fulfilled his declaration.

Mr. Mason admitted with great candor,
that common belief, unopposed, is strong
proof, "but," added he "there may be
stronger. The patent calls for Hardwater
Run ; now which of the streams above the
forks most deserves the name of Run .''
Surely the largest. Let any one go to-day
and test them by this rule. He wiU find
the Lower Branch a clear, steady, and not
inconsiderable stream — the Upper Branch
he will scarcely be able to find. He will
see, indeed, a dry ditch which serves to
drain the country after a thunder shower,
but that is all. Run ! — why, gentlemen,

what does the word mean, if it be not a
flowing, constant, brook .?"

Somers here remarked — " By the leave
of my learned friend, I would suggest that
the size of the channel is oftentimes a surer
proof of the importance of a stream, than
the quantity of water there may chance at
a certain season to be in it. Examine the
two branches, gentlemen, as you have been
advised. What is the Lower one .'' My
friend has correctly described it. A stream
which even in this season of drought re-
freshes the eye with its clear-flowing cur-
rent. In this respect it is distinguished
above many streams which bear more im-
posing titles. I can lead you to a river
which cannot supply sufficient water to
turn a mill-wheel. What is it that gives
the Lower Branch its superiority } The
fact is easily explained. It happens to be
fed by several springs which are remarka-
bly lasting. Yet the Lower Branch is but
a small brook. Turn to the Upper Fork.
What do you see there .' A dry ditch^
says my learned brother. I will not quar-
rel with him about terms, but to me it ap-
pears a channel^ empty indeed, but capable
of containing without overflow the waters
of the largest canal. This is July ; look
at it next April — what is it then .'' You
will find that empty ditch filled to the brim
with an impetuous current which a horse-
man cannot ford without danger. In April
look also at the Lower Branch — it bears
the same character as in summer — it is stUl
a clear, small brook. You may now be
curious to learn, gentlemen, how the rival
streams appeared to those who planted
Compton's corner stones. That is a point
upon which I arn fortunately able to give
you satisfaction. We know from unques-
tionable evidence that the survey of the
tract was made, not in July, but in April.
The fourth corner stone was placed on the
edge of Hardwater Run, and what man is
there that can behold the two streams in
April and doubt which deserves to be called
the Run and which the Branch .?"

Mr. Mason now alluded to the name^
which, he said, implied that the water of
the Run was hard or brackish. He inquired
whether such a title was not very inap-
propriate to a stream supplied by rain

180

Emrstone.

[Feb.

water and summer torrents, while it may
be given without obvious inconsistency to
one which depends principally upon con-
stant springs, especially when it could be
shown that any of these springs really does
flow with water unfit to be used in washing
and for other similar household purposes,
and he proffered witnesses to prove this to
be the case with at least one of the springs
on the Lower Branch.

Mr. Astiville's lawyer dwelt at consider-
able length upon this head and seemed to
produce an eifect upon the jury. When
he had ended, Somers rose with a subdued
smile and produced a very old printed jour-
nal in which mention was made of an at-
tempt to explore the country near the
mouth of a creek whose name was spelled
Hedwawt. Next he showed the jury a
map, like the volume, long anterior in date
to Compton's letters patent, which gave
some few miles of the lower portion of a
stream bearing the title of Hadderwawt.
Lastly, he exhibited a thin folio vokime
with vellum covers. This book, whose an-
tique appearance excited much curiosity in
the Court-room, proved to be a copy of one
of the earliest publications relating to the
colony. Somers turned to the appendix
and pointed with his finger to a sentence
the last clause of which read as follows —
" a muddy creek or small river, called by
the savages Hadderwawt or Hardwat."

" Such," said Somers, " is the origin of
that name which my friend on the other
side has taken such pains to deduce from
the brackish nature of an insignificant little
spring some twenty miles from the mouth.
The Indians, you know, gentlemen, did not
speak English in those days, and ' hard-
wat' in the ir lano;ixao;e meant somethino- very
different, -^'11 answer for it, from that which
we call hard water."

" There's one of Lawyer Mason's pegs
broke, that's certain," observed a man out-
side the bar to his neighbor.

" Never mind," answered the individ-
ual spoken to, " Mason's got a good chunk
of white oak to drive in next. See there
what's coming, isn't that a back-log for
you .' ' '

There was now quite a stir in the throng.
At a signal from Mason, three stout ne-
groes advanced, whose stooping backs and
rigid muscles testified to the ponderousness
of that which they were bearing. The
judge was surprised, the jury stared. The

negroes laid down their burden which was
then seen to be the quarter section of a
short log taken from a tree of great diame-
ter. About twelve or fourteen inches from
the heart, there appeared three little marks
which might have been the gashes made
by an axe when the tree was young and
grown over by the new wood deposited
during the many years which had since
elapsed.

" If there be any doubt in your minds,"
said Mason to the jury, "as to whether
you see the marks of the surveyor, they
will be removed by an examination of the
other quarter of the log." The negroes
now came forward a second time. Obey-
ing Mason's direction, they placed this
stick by the side of the first and made it
evident that the two had once been united.
The three marks were discernible on the
edge of each.

By the permission and indeed sugges-
tion of the judge, proper tools were brought,
and one of the sections was ' hearted' as
woodmen call it, that is, was cleft in the
direction of the rings formed by the sap.
It was now still more plain that the marks
were scars of the notches made a long time
previous by a hatchet or some other sharp
instrument. Their number and their situ-
ation in the tree went strongly to show
that they were the work of a surveyor.

Mason introduced witnesses to prove that
the pieces of wood then before the court
had been taken from a tree standing on the
edge of the Lower Branch, which tree he
proceeded to argue, denoted the situation of
the disputed corner. " But gentleman," he
added, in a tone of modest triumph, "a
rightful cause does not depend upon this
evidence alone. I have something else to
show you."

As he beckoned with his hand, a white
man stepped forward, bringing in his arms
a stone some four inches thick and two feet
long.

" Where did this come from, Mr. John-
son .?"

The witness, after being properly sworn,
testified, that he, in company with several
others had brought it from beside the Low-
er Branch of the Hardwater, where it was
standing, covered nearly to the top with
earth.

" How far from the white oak tree, Mr.
Johnson .?"

" About four paces." \ .

1850.]

Everstone.

181

" I am confident," said Mason, address-
ing the jury, "that I have presented to you
the original fourth corner-stone. At the
making of the Compton survey, there were
six stones phxnted. The five respecting
which no doubt has ever existed, are all of
a dark blue slate — the stone now before
you is of blue slate. The others are plant-
ed so that about two feet of the stone are
above the surface of the earth. This stood
with only eight or ten inches of it visible ;
but look at the top of it, gentleman, see how
raofged and uneven it is ! The others are
squared and levelled at the top. It is
easy to conceive that the stone by the
'Iflardwater, has been broken since it was

.aced there. When it was broken I can-
not tell. That it has not lately been done
is evident from the weather-beaten appear-
ance and uniform hue of the stone. The
six stones were all of them inscribed with
the initials R. C.,for Roland Compton ;
they were numhered too. Do you de-
mand that the number and mitials shall be
visible on this .'' Consider, gentlemen, that
the upper portion of this piece of slate has
been broken off" and is lost — perhaps some
overflow of the stream has swept it far from
the spot — it eludes the most careful search.
You cannot ask for impossibilities ; my
clients do all that is within their power ;
they bring before you what remains of the
stone. Without stopping to indulge in
vain regrets, let us make the best of what
we have. The greater portion of the in-
scription is gone, but perhaps some little
of it may remain. Examine the stone,
the smoothest side of it — do you not see
nearly the whole of the R. .? Now look
further along where the break unfortunate-
ly runs downward ; is there not something
left of the C ? And can you not discern
even what was once the lower part of a
4 .'' Take it, I beg you, and study it well,
remembering that those marks of the chisel,
however plain they once were, have had
to endure the frosts and driving storms of

a century and a half.

The jurymen, as they scanned the bit of
slate, and followed with their fingers the
faint marks upon its surface, nodded gravely
to each other, as if to say, " It does look
like an R. and a C. and a figure 4."

Mason inquired whether any further evi-
dence was demanded of the identity of the

stone with that which was asserted to have
been found near the oak tree on the run.

Somers answering in the affirmative,
Timothy Gauslin was summom^d. His
testimony was decided and unequivocal, and
fully confirmed that of the witness who pre-
ceded.

As the man was about to withdraw, he
was detained by Somers, who expressed a
desire to put an additional question or two.
Tim Gauslin turned and stood with great
patience, but the attorney of the New
Yorkers made a considerable pause be-
fore commencing the cross-examination.
The attention of all was instantly fixed.
Even the sheriff's severe eye, as it swept
over the crowded room, could not distin-
guish the slightest sign of disorder. Judge,
jury, and spectators preserved a profound 0
silence. Expectation was stimulated to
the utmost. Mason himself began to feel
somewhat nervous and uneasy, as he
watched the calm, disembarrassed, but
ominous expression of the countenance of his
antagonist.

When at length Somers opened his lips,
it was to address not the witness, but the
court. " My able and distinguished friend,"
he said, " has omitted to refer to one of
the characteristics of the fourth stone — it
marks not only a corner of the Compton
tract, but the site of a grave."

Mason rose at once and was about to ex-
press astonishment, or perhaps a positive
denial, but the other without giving him
time to speak, added, " It is well that the
contested corner should be better marked
than those in regard to which there is no
dispute. The other stones have their still
legible inscriptions to distinguish them,
the fourth has this additional mark, that it
is the head-stone of a grave. The fact to
which I allude is, I believe, unquestion-
able, and requires to be established by no
array of witnesses. I suppose there is not a
person here who will refuse to admit it."

The lawyer's keen glance, which at first
had been confined to the members of the
jury, now fell — whether by accident or
through design — upon the elder Astiville.
That gentleman sprang up and exclaimed,
" Does Mr. Somers look at me ? Am I
to be the subject of slander and vUlanous
insinuations ?"

No reply being made, however, order was
immediately restored in court. Somers

182

Everstone.

[Feb.

turning to Gauslin, inquired whether it was
his opinion and belief that some one was
bui'ied near the fouiih corner stone.

" It has always been understood so," an-
swered the witness. " I know nothing more
about it than the common run of folks, but
I have been told it was the case and believ-
ed it."

Mason heard this reply with extreme
surprise, and as he saw the statement con-
firmed by the significant glances exchanged
among the jurymen, and by a general hum
of assent pervading the throng outside the
bar, felt at a loss as to the ground he should
take. But ere he had opportunity for
meditation, his mind was destined to be as-
sailed by further disturbing causes.

Somers followed up his interrogatory by
^ another. " Do you know of any investiga-
tion having been made to ascertain whether
there is any grave near the spot where this
stone was found .?"

Tim Gauslin hesitated a little, but an-
swered " Yes."

" Be good enough, then, sir, to tell the
court about it."

Gauslin after a deprecating glance to-
wards Mr. Mason, who was frowning, terri-
bly, said, '' Well, you see, after the five
of us had seen to the stone, and taken it
ofi", it came into the heads of Peter Grimes
and me to look about in a quiet way for the
grave. It couldn't do any harm, and, we
thought, might help to make a plain mat-
ter plainer.

The man stopped, and Mason felt some-
what encouraged.

" And what did you find .?" asked So-
mers.

" We found a plaguy hard customer,"
~ replied Gauslin, and again paused.

The crowd excited by suspense, stood on
tiptoe, looking over one another's shoul-
ders and striving to catch every word that
shou'd be uttered. The members of the
Bar forgot for the instant their professional
sang-froid, and listened as eagerly as the
vulgar. 'I'he Judge himself displayed more
than his usual grave attention. There was
one exception to the general demeanor —
John Astiville, who leaned back in his seat
with folded arms and an air of dogged com-
posure.

Gauslin resumed his story, " We dug
down at one side of where the stone had
stood, and came to solid rock ; we dug in

another place, and there we came to solid
rock ; we tried another side and tJiere was
rock — we tried all around and every where
it was the same. Within two feet of the
top there's one great flat rock extending to
the hill on the south side, and on the north,
reaching a distance of about ten feet, and
sloping away, like, under the stump."

" Perhaps the stone has been quarried
out and replaced again," Mason ventured
to remark.

" No," said the witness, shaking his
head, " we tried it with the iron bar and it
sounded dull and heavy everywhere, as if
it had never been distm-bed."

" What kind of rock did you find it to
be V asked Somers. " Does it resemble
this stone which has been brought into
Court .^"

" Yes, it seems about the same."

Somers allowed the man to retire, and
then observed to the Jury, " the head-stone^
it is very clear, yet remains to be found,
and it is for you to decide whether we can
have seen the corner-stone.''''

" There is the tree, however," said Ma-
son, " plainly bearing the surveyor's mark.
Do not be led away, gentlemen, by vague
traditions, when you have before you evi-
dence like this, real, substantial, and that
cannot be mistaken. Here you have a
witness that has come from the depths of
the forest to speak to you — a witness hither-
to carefully concealed by the hand of na-
ture, because its testimony was not needed
till to-day in support of right and justice.
This is not a short-lived man in whose de-
claration you are required to believe ; not
a weak, frail being who sees a transaction
this morning in order to forget it the mor-
row— no ; but a witness who existed in
hardy vigor at a period when the oldest
among you was yet unborn, and whose
memory retains the impression then made
xipon it with a tenacity as enduring as the
tough fibres which constitute its frame.
That oak as it stood by the side of the
Hardwater, bore no outward sign of what
was within. How think you then was it
found — by accident } Far otherwise.
There were those who, knowing their rights,
knew where to look for arguments to defend
them. You may send a woodman to fell
a thousand trees along that run and in not
one of them will you find, as in this, the
indelible imprint of the surveyor's hatchet.

1850.]

Everstone.

183

My clients needed not this proof to satisfy
themselves of their title, their belief had
other foundation — but such proof seemed
to be useful for your conviction, and to si-
lence unscrupulous adversaries : and there-
fore, at the place where the corner was
known to stand, they sought for signs of
the corner, they found them, they have
brought them here, you see them — and I
dare to add, you believe them."

" That's the way to lay down the doc-
trine," remarked Foley the squatter, in tones
by no means inaudible.

Somers now inquired how many rings
could be counted in the wood outside of the
marks.

" About ninety," answered Mason, " or
perhaps one or two less."

" And Compton's patent dates sixty
years earlier," added Somers quietly.

" Yes," said the other, "but the discre-
pancy admits of an easy explanation. When
the corner was first established, there was
no occasion for any marked tree, the stone
was sufficient ; but that in lapse of time
becoming broken, it was proper to take
other precautions to prevent the locality
from being forgotten."

It is not attempted to give a regular and
minute account of the rather discursive and
irregular proceedings at the trial. To many
arguments advanced on each side no refer-
ence is made at all. The counsel of course
did their best, urging every consideration
which seemed likely to impel the jury in
the desired direction. Proof of various sorts
was brought forward, documentary, living,
direct, hearsay, as happened to come to
hand. Somers, however, was much more
sparing of words than his opponents, judi-
ciously considering, that the plain jurymen,
becoming confused by such a mass of in-
congruous evidence, would be ready, in des-
pair, to banish the whole of it, and to yield
up their minds to any argument which
should be presented clearly and forcibly at
the close. What to believe about the mat-
ter of the grave he knew not, but it had
evidently produced an impression upon the
jury, and he determined to bring up under
its shelter an argument in which he did be-
lieve. The appearance of strength, the
lawyer was aware, is as good as strength it-
self, whenever it can be confirmed and sup-
ported before its insufficiency is discovered.
Having waited patiently, therefore, till

the zealous gentlemen on the other side had
said what they had to say, Somers urged
upon the jury the fact that no grave had
been found. That such a grave existed at
the real site of the corner, he treated as a
matter perfectly indisputable. He wound
up this division of his argument by saying,
" You see, gentlemen, how impossible it is
that the stone which has been brought into
Court can be the one planted on the line
between Compton and Astiville. Suppos-
ing then we admit that this oak log be all
it is claimed to be, what follows .' It has
the strokes of the surveyor upon it, and
hence you may infer that marks a line, or
a corner — perhaps the corner we are in
search of. Grant everything that is asked,
and you get a bare prohahility . Assio-n
to this proof what strength you may, there
is opposed to it a stronger. Even though
a probability should advance to the very
verge of certainty, though it should want
but a hair's breadth of perfection, still, it
cannot establish what is impossible. If the
matter stood thus, and we could not ac-
count for the tree's having been scored as
it is, the cause of my clients would, not-
withstanding, remain unshaken. But the
matter does not so stand : I am able to show
what the other side have no right to de-
mand of me. A few words will suffice to
inform you what those silent notches de-
note. The grandfather of the late Mr.
Compton had been blessed by heaven with
seven sons. The same hand that gave,
subsequently bereft him of all but two, the
oldest and the youngest. Those two re-
maining hopes of the parent were very un-
like. The one son was a pale, sickly lad;
Alexander, the eldest, on the contrary, was
a young man in the prime of life, and
blooming with health and vigor. The father
became consoled for what he had lost, in
beholding this firm support of his declining
steps. Alexander Compton became at-
tached to a young lady worthy of him in
station, in wealth, in personal attractions.
They were betrothed, and a day was ap-
pointed for the wedding. The father, in
view of this event, determined to make a
division of his landed estate, and to bestow
a large portion upon that eldest child Alex-
ander. With his own hand Mr. Compton
made a draught on paper of the bounds of
that portion, which draught it was pro-
posed to enlarge when the wedding-day

184

Everstone.

[Feb.

should come, into the form of a legal con-
veyance. Such an instrument, however,
was never executed. Alexander, while on
the way to the home of his bride was ob-
structed by a swollen stream. He attempted
to cross and was drowned. How does this
sad story concern the present case } Much,
gentlemen, for if that marriage had taken
place you would not to-day have been as-
sembled here. If the deed of gift which
that sorely stricken father was j)i"Gvented
from making, had been put on record in
the office of this Court, no doubt could ever
have arisen as to the course of the northern
line of the Compton patent. Yet, though
I cannot show you the deed, I can show you
the draught on which it was to have been
based. Here is a dingy sheet of paper,
taken from the recesses of the desk, to
which it was doubtless consigned by the
desolate father himself, who from that fatal
mornino: nuist have loathed the siaiht of it.
Take it, gentlemen, but handle it gently,
for it is a record of sorrow."

The jury examined the paper with great
interest.

Somers continued — " I have made men-
tion of a feeble younger child. That son
survived, and from him are descended all
of the Comptons who now exist, and it is
to defend the title of those descendants
that I present this paper to you ; for, the
rights of the Comptons, not the mere
interests of my clients, are what you are
impanneled to tiy. Reference is made,
as you perceive, in this paper, to a white
oak tree, two rods upward from a certain
sulphur spring near the Lower Branch. I
found the sulphur spring, gentlemen, and
measuring off the space given, I came to
a large stump. What has become of the
wood taken from that stump, I have learned
— and you too have learned, this morning.

The draft bears date eighty-six years ago.
Let the rings on yonder log be counted."
The judge himself undertook to make the
reckoning, and pronounced the number to
agree with that stated.

" I was confident," resumed Somers,
" that it would prove so, though I never
saw that piece of timber till it was bi'ought
into court this morning. Now, it will be
further noticed, that the paper, after giving
this tree as one of the corners of the tract
to be bestowed on Alexander Compton,
adds, that the line shall run thence in a

northwesterly direction to the old fourth
corner-slone onHardivater Run. If, gentle-
men, you strike a line northwestwardly from
the Lower Branch, j-ou must hit upon the
North Branch. My argument is done ;
the true Hardwater is found ; and no more
is needed to decide the present suit."

Upon Mason's oifering to contest the
genuineness of the document offered in evi-
dence, Somers showed conclusively by the
testimony of the administrators and various
members of the family of the late Mr.
Compton, and by comparison of hand-wri-
ting, that there was no reasonable ground to
doubt its being what it purported to be.
Thus, whatever might be thought of the
legal insufficiency of the paper in other re-
spects, it at least showed the belief enter-
tained in regard to the boundary of tbe
tract, by the head of the Compton family
nearly a century previous.

The trial was at length brought to a
close. After a long interval of suspense,
bar, suitors, and audience, were informed
that the jury could not agree. Nine of the
twelve, it appeared, were disposed to de-
cide in fiivor of the title of the New York-
ers, but the remaining three held out stiffly
for the " old families."

John Astiville, on this occasion, had no
mind to curse the law's delay. As for Mr.
Everlyn, he was greatly startled by the
strong case presented on a side where he
had expected to see nothing but shuffling
evasions. He began now for the first time
to apprehend that his friend and he did not
enjoy so complete a monopoly of justice as
had been presumed. Astiville noticed his
faltering confidence, and found it necessary
to administer support. The task was com-
menced adroitly enough.

"Is not Dick Somers a crafty dog .^
What other man could do so much with
nothing .? He can brandish a shadow in
the face of the jury, and make the simple
souls believe it a real argument."

"But," said Everlyn, "what is this
grave that is talked about ? I never heard
of it before."

Astiville laughed as he answered, " You
are not alone in ignorance, be assured.
There are many more in the same plight."

" Then is there really nothing in it .?"

" Yes, about as much as there is in half
the idle gossip of a negro fireside. Som-
ers has hunted up some old rigmarole tale —

1850.]

Everstone.

185

it served his purpose, and that is all he
cared for. He does well to enlist in do-
fence of the weakest party, for his talents
would be wasted on any side that pos-
sessed the innate strength of justice."

" But what are we to do now .^" asked
Everlyn.

" Why, we must endeavor to beat them
at their own weapons."

" You do not mean, that because they
are unscrupulous, it is necessary for us to
be unscrupulous also. That is, according
to your own definition, to throw away our
strength because they know how to make
a good use of weakness .''"

" By no means," an.swered Mr. Asti-
vUlc ; "all that I propose now is, to delay
the decision till an opportunity shall occur
when the minds of men are disabused of
the misconceptions which Somers has in-
stilled into them. Neither you nor I
would prosecute the matter, unless we
knew that the right was in our favor.
Therefore, with clear conscience, we can
wish the jury to decide for us ; but if such
a decision can only be brouglit about by a
little management, the course of wisdom is
plain enough."

" That is," suggested Everlyn, "in case
the measures you have reference to are in-
nocent."

" Certainly. Indeed, in the present af-
fair, I think we have little occasion for any
very active conduct. Let us be patient,
and time will bring thino's rio-ht."

Everlyn did not altogether understand
what meaning was covered xmder these
enigmatical expressions, but Mr. Astiville
did, which of course was sufficient.

The conversation was continued as they
rode homeward. Everlyn remarked, " I
thought the discovery of the stone and tree
was to be kept secret, yet Somers did not
appear to be taken by surprise when they
were produced."

" No, he ferreted it out in some way.
Gauslin's self-willed stupidity led to it,
though he assures me that he never spoke
to any body about the search he had made,
and was far from anticipating any questions
as to its result. His companion. Grimes,
must have betrayed it, or at least have
dropped some hint which Somers was sa-
gacious enough to interpret and avail him-
self of. Thus we rather lost than gained
by our stratagem. The trap was sprung

when we did not expect it, and recoiled up-
on our own heads. Trust me, however,
we shall be even with the Yankees yet.
The clients, luckily, are not as deep in craft
as the advocate."

Everlyn, after musing awhile, answered,
" I would not have expected such a course
from Somers. His manner being so cor-
dial and frank, I did not doubt that his
friendship was as sincere as it seemed. To
be threatened with ruin is sufficiently bad
in itself, but to see the blow guided by a
hand from which only good offices were
looked for, is apt to overcome one's patience
altogether."

" It is useless," replied Astiville, " to be
vexed on such an account. A lawyer
makes his living from mischief, and he is
the best among them who sticks most
closely to his trade. His client is his vic-
tim, and in truth I must say it argues a de-
gree of tenderness of conscience in Som-
ers, that he is reluctant to prey upon his
friends so long as he has some one else to
devour."

"You do not apprehend my meaning,"
said Everlyn. " I would not cave so much
about his joining against me, if he would
only be a fair and open foe. Let him de-
fend, if he will, the admirable clients he
has adopted, and let him urge the law
against me to its very letter ; his choice may
affect me with surprise, but I will not blame
the man for it. But to surpass in zeal even
those for whom he acts, to out-Schrowder
Schrowder, to have recourse, with daunt-
less effrontery, to every device of misrep-
resentation, duplicity, and low cunning —
this, I think, is a supererogation in meanness
which his profession does not demand."

"My dear sir," said the other, "you
take this matter too hardly. If Somers
were a relative now, you would have reason
to be mortified and vexed, but as it is, what
can he be to you } ' '

Mr. Everlyn thought he had ample rea-
son for his concern, when he considered
that the individual referred to had shown a
desire to become his son-in-law, but he
deemed it proper to confine this reflection
to himself.

" Besides," added Astiville, " Somers,
whatever may be his ability, is after all of
a low family, and what better could you
expect from him } Plants that have sprung
from the dung-hill will savor of their origin. ' '

186

Everstone.

[Feb.

" I am compelled to believe it," answer-
ed Everlyn.

" For my part," said Astiville, " I
think it a doctrine easy to be believed
without compulsion. The whole analogy
of nature is in its favor. No law is more
universal than that things beget their like.
Then again these self-made men, whom it
is the cant of the day to eulogise, want that
early training and example with which the
children of good families are favored."

" I am inclined," Everlyn said, " to as-
sign even more weight to this last conside-
ration than to the other. Do we not some-
times see an old family servant display
more of the manner of a courteous, well-
bred gentleman than we find in many of
those who are received in good and respect-
able society } If instances of this sort of
servants are more rare than formeidy, I fear
it argues that we, their masters, have de-
generated from the elevated tone and hab-
its of our fathers."

" There is no doubt much force in what
you say," rejoined Astiville, "yet I cannot
but attach great importance to the hloocl.
It conveys from one generation to another
those sentiments of honor which, like the
instincts of the lower animals, point out
better than any teacher can do, what con-
duct is becoming our station in life."

Everlyn shook his head. "It is a com-
fortable creed, but I suspect that if a can-
did examination is made, we shall find that
no small share of the villainy which has
been carried on in the world is traceable to
the offspring of honest and distinguished
lineages. Still — and to this extent I aOTee
with you — I do think that good blood,
though it may be no preservative against
wickedness, in the abstract, must restrain
any one in whose veins it flows from those
acts of paltry, underhand baseness which
the perpetrator cannot acknowledge without
shame, even in the company of his fellow
miscreants. All sin is certainly to be ab-
horred and shunned, but if a choice had to
be made, give me rather the dauntless ruf-
fianly crinie^ than the sneaking vice which
violates a trust or betrays the innocent —
give me rather the high-bred villain than
the low, grovelling scoundrel."

The two gentlemen had by this time
come to a fork in the road where it was
necessary for them to separate, Mr. As-
tiville crossing the Run and bearing off to

the right, while his friend pursued his way
up the stream.

It was a week or ten days afterward,
when Somers, released for a period from
his duties at Daylsborough, thought proper
to turn his face towards the Hardwater.
As in duty bound, he first visited his client
Mr. Newlove. In the reception which he
met there, and especially in the sincere
and earnest thanks for his exertions utter-
ed by Emma, he felt recompensed for the
sacrifice which he made to a sense of duty.
" I did my best," he answered, " and I
think I may congratulate you upon the re-
sult, for it is far more favorable than I had
reason to apprehend from the complexion
of the jury. If nothing untoward happens
in the meanwhile, I think the next trial
may be expected to establish your title
completely. This, however, is quite un-
certain, and the suit may be protracted to
a considerable length. One thing I must
enjoin upon you, and that is, to keep Mr.
Schrowder quiet. If the cause is eventu-
ally lost, I think it will be owing to him."
Mr. Newlove replied gravely that Mr.
Schrowder was an individual of great ob-
stinacy and energy.

Emma smiled and said — ' ' We cannot
promise to perform impossibilities — yet I
trust the case is not hopeless. At any
rate every resource of persuasion shall be
tasked."

" If you undertake the matter," return-
ed the lawyer, gallantly, " I am sure the
point is gained."

After an hour's talk, Somers' eye began
to wander about the walls of the room.
Then he rose and offered to take leave.
Upon Mr. Newlove's urging him to remain
to dinner, he excused himself, and men-
tioned that he had another call to make
that afternoon.

Newlove replied eagerly to this, that he
would find neither Dubosk nor Schrowder
at home, and therefore could gain nothing
by such a hasty departure.

Somers — to the great risk of his legal
reputation be it spoken — was a little em-
barrassed, but recovering from the mo-
ment's hesitation, was able to signify that
there was another family in the vicinity,
not alluded to, which it was possible to
visit.

Emma, with a woman's quick apprehen-
sion, caught his meaning, and was too con-

1850.1

Everstone.

187

siderate as well as polite to attempt to de-
tain liim longer.

Soraers, however, was high-spirited, and
could not creep away in the style of a
school-boy going to rob an orchard, so he
added firmly — " The truth is, I must call
on Mr. Everlyn. I fear he will think
hardly enough of me at best, and I must
not increase his displeasure by neglecting
any duty of friendship which it is left in my
power to perform."

Though this was uttered quite glibly,
the young lady did not fail to perceive that

his mterest in the Everlyn family was by
no means so entirely engrossed as his words
seemed to denote, by its head. Somers
was conscious that his secret was penetra-
ted, yet he had little inclination to be
angry on account of the discovery, for,
somehow or other, nobody ever became ac-
quainted with Emma Newlove without
feeling that if it were necessary to have a
confessor, there could not be found in the
whole world a person whom one would
choose for that ofiice in preference to her.

To he Continued.

TOL. V. NO. 11. NEW SEEIE8.

188

The Mosquito Questioti.

[Feb.

BHITISH ENCROACHMENTS AND AGGRESSIONS

IN CENTRAL AMERICA.

THE MOSQUITO QUESTION

PREFATORY NOTE.

'V,

Since the following pages were written, we
have witnessed a series of startling events,
which must, in a forcible manner, direct the
attention of the United States to the subject of
aggressions of British agents in Central Ameri-
ca. Having as early as January, 1848, seized
upon the port of San Juan de Nicaragua, the
only practicable eastern terminus of the pro-
posed grand inter-oceanic canal, the agent of
the British Government, upon the paltriest
pretexts, has now assumed to take posses-
sion of the magnificent Bay or Gulf of
Fonseca, second only to San Francisco,
and commanding the entire Pacific coast
from Panama to San Diego. The subjoined
account^of this bay, written some months ago,
will not be uninteresting in this connection :

" The Bay of Fonseca, or Conchagua, may
be described as a grand harbor, in which all
the navies of the whole world might ride with
entire security. It much resembles that of
San Francisco in position and form ; the en-
trance from the .sea is, however, broader. Its
entire length, within the land, is not far from
100 miles, by from 50 to 70 in breadth. The
three states of San Salvador, Honduras, and
Nicaragua, have ports upon it. In respect
to trade, the principal port, on the main land,
is that of La Union in San Salvador. All the
islands of this bay, and the adjacent coasts
are of unbounded fertility, and furnish an
abundant supply of timber. The sides of the
volcano of San Miguel, in particular, are
covered with white oak and pine, suitable for
building or repairing ships. The bay em-
braces several large islands of great beauty,
surrounded by water of such depth as to ena-
ble vessels of the largest size to approach
close in shore. The most important of these,
from the circumstances of its .size, and the
fact that it commands and is the key of the
entire bay, is the Island of Tigre, belonging
to Honduras. This island was the head quar-
ters and depot of Drake, during his operations
in the South Sea. It is about forty miles in

circumference, level near the shore, but rising
gradually in the centre, so as to form a reo-ular
cone— -thus affording almost every variety of
air and climate de-sirable. Upon this island is
situated the free port of Amapala.

" The English have long had covetous eyea
upon this island, particularly since the project
of a canal across the isthmus of Nicaragua
has been seriously entertained, and since the
United States has acquired so large and impor-
tant territories on the Pacific. The alleged
debts due to Great Britain, or rather British
subjects, will furnish pretexts for collisions,
which in turn will lead to the occupation of
this island by the English. This will be but
another step of the same policy which led to
the seizure of the island of Roatan and the
port of San Juan, and which has for its ulti-
mate object the control of the passengers
acros.s the isthmus, and the prevention of
American preponderance in the Pacific. Our
vessels, merchandize and citizens pa.ssing
around Cape Horn, across the isthmus of
Panama, or through the proposed ship canal
in Nicaragua, would be completely within the
power of Great Britain, and might easily he
intercepted from this commanding position,
should she succeed in possessing herself of it.
Besides, in this event the three states of San
Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua, with their
great mineral wealth and unlimited agricul-
tural resources, would soon be reduced to the
condition of dependencies of Great Britain,
and ultimately be absorbed by her."

When the above was written, it was not sup-
posed that the designs of the agents of Great
Britain were so nearly ripe for execution. Up-
on the 16th of October, the British war steamer
" Gorr^on," having on board H. B. M's. Charg
d' Affaires in Guatemala, arrived in the bay of
Fonseca, and proceeded at once to take posses-
sion of the island of Tigre, " in the name of
the Queen." As the particulars of this and
the subsequent occurrences have been made
known through the medium of the daily press,
it is un necessary to say more, than that this
act was followed by the seizure of the other

111! I am I nil iiiniijM««a^«BMi»WKJ««Kiit'wr»imnni-«an7iis«a

ill I

I !

liiiiiiii! r

190

The Mosquito Question.

[Feb.

islands of the bay, and the absolute posses-
sion of that important position by Great Britain.
As the United States had previously acquired
important rights and privileges in these
islands, through the legitimate means of treaty,
by which means, and for important objects
connected with the proposed canal, a provis-
ional cession of the island had been made to
the United States, — under these circumstances,
and apart from an observance of those grand
principles hitherto proclaimed and acted upon
by the United States, it becomes our duty to
interpose efficaciously against these outrages
upon the feeble Republics of Central America.
This is demanded by a regard to the freedom
and security of the important routes of com-
munication already established, and about to
be established, across the continent at this
and neighboring points. The pretext for these
seizures are paltry claims amounting to about
S30,000 against Honduras, and S80,000 against
San Salvador, made up of items, not one-fourth
of which would be entertained, for a moment,
in our courts of law : and of the validity of
which England assumes to be the sole judge
and executor.

BRITISH POLICY THE CANAL OF NICARA-
GUA, &C.

The " King of the Mosquitos''^ and the
sovereign of the " Tongo Islands,''^ who
figure so conspicuously in the sea-canti-
cles, if not considered identical, fall, in the
estimation of most persons, within the
same category of dog-eating potentates,
with about equal regal pretensions, and
holding sway over regions equally indefi-
nite. The mention of the " King of the
Mosquitos," in a mixed assemblage, rarely
fiiils to elicit a smile or a joke, with some
allusion to phlebotomy, and the bloody
propensities and wide diffusion of his sub-
jects.

The constant readers of the daily press
have, in years past, seen occasional refer-
ences to the " Mosquito Coast ^'''' and, of
late years, to a personage called the " Mos-
quito King.'''' But few, however, have
known, or now know, anything of the re-
gion thus designated, or any thing of the
potentate thus dignified, and fewer still
care aught about either.

That a portion of the eastern shore of
Central America, bordering on the Carrib-

ean Sea, bears the geographical designa-
tion of the " Mosquito Shore," is a fact
not unknown to geographical students and
to map-makers. But the fact that Great
Britain, in virtue of some equivocal rela-
tions with the savages of that region, has
set up pretensions to semi-sovereignty over
the entire coast, from Cape Honduras to
Panama, is a fact only known to those who,
instead of poring over the history that is
past, mark well the history that is passing.
Those, too, who have watched the devel-
opments of the grasping policy of that
power which boasts that the sound of her
evening gun circles the world, and that the
sun never sets on her dominions, who have
observed with what greediness and utter
disregard of the rights of weaker nations she
grasps at every commanding position on
both continents, cementing the bulwarks
of her greatness with the blood of her chil-
dren at home , — those who have observed the
feeling, half of jealousy and half of fear, with
which she regards the growing greatness of
our confederacy, and how eagerly she
seizes upon every opportunity to thwart its
legitimate designs and retard its prosperity,
— those who have observed all this, and
deem it a duty incumbent upon the United
States to adhere firmly to the grand " Amer-
ican System" marked out by the fathers of
the Republic, and to watch jealously and
resist earnestly the encroachments which
the corrupted and unscrupulous monar-
chies of Europe may attempt upon this
continent, — these wakeful sentinels, unfor-
tunately few in number, know to well not
only that Great Britain has seized upon
this vast and valuable extent of territory,
but has done so in disregard of the ho-
liest principles of international right, and
upon the flimsiest and most ambitious of
pretexts. They know that this seizure
has been made by force, with insult and
defiance, and at the cost of innocent blood.
They know, too, this has been done less
for purposes of positive and immediate ag-
grandisement, than to prevent the United
States from attaining that commercial as-
cendency and that preponderance in the
Pacific, which would inevitably result from
an easy and speedy communication with
her territories upon that coast. It was for
the last-named reason that a British force,
upon the 17th of Feb., 1848, landed at
the Port of San Juan de Nicaragua, ex-

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

191

pelled the Nicaraguan authorities, and took
possession of that important point, which
they have since forcibly hckl and have pro-
claimed their intention of holding.

The Port of San Juan is situated at
the mouth of the river of that name^ com-
municating with the Lake of Nicaragua^
and commands the tvell-known^ long-talk-
ed-of and only feasible route for a ship-
canal across the Avierican continent.

Apart from all questions of right involved
in the matter, docs Great Britain desire to
control the important Isthmus of Nicara-
gua for the purpose of herself constructing
the proposed great canal ? Far from it !
She now occupies a position, in respect to
the great commercial centres of the Asiatic
hemisphere, in distance 2000 miles, and in
point of time 15 or 20 days nearer, than
her only great commercial rival the United
States. If that canal were built, these ad-
vantages would be reversed ; the United
States would be 3000 miles, and 20 days,
nearer than England ; and in communi-
cating with the vast and, as yet, undevel-
oped empires of Asia, the net gain to the
United States would be, in round numbers,
5000 miles in distance and 40 days in
time. Under all her present advantages,
it is all that England can do to maintain
her ascendency in this commercial field
against the superior energy, enterprise, and
sagacity of America. Reverse the f)hys-
ical advantages which she possesses, and
the result is easily predicted. Cooped in
a narrow island, destitute of the internal
resources of the United States, which, if
developed, would make her independent of
the world, England relies upon her com-
merce for her very existence. To sustain
and promote this, may be said to be her
controlling policy. From the day her pre-
dominance in this respect ceases — from
that day she will date her rapid decline.
It is her vital point, and a blow aimed
there she more dreads than the descent of
a hostile army on her coasts, or a thousand
hostile cannon on the Thames.

The entire Pacific coast of the Ameri-
can continent has hitherto been in the pos-
session of a sluggish race, — its resources
undeveloped, and contributing little to the
commerce of the world. But late events
indicate, with unerring certainty, that this
quiescent period is passed. It requires no
extraordina,ry degree of prescience to

foresee there the speedy rise of a great and
powerful State, occupied by a population
unsurpassed for its industry and enterprise,
and ready to seize upon every advantage
which the resources of that vast coast or
its commercial facilities may afford. Five
years ago there was only a little cluster of
Americans, a handful in a wilderness of
savages, at the mouth of the Columbia
river in Oregon, reached only by long and
tedious voyages around Cape Horn, or by
weary and perilous journeys, of months in
duration, over land. JN'ow we possess
there an empire in respect to territory ;
the magic touch of the Anglo-American has
unlocked the hidden treasures of the earth,
and is followed by a flow of wealth unpre-
cedented in the history of the world. A
State, not yet twelve months old, knocks
with all the sturdiness of manhood for ad-
mission into the Union. Cities spring up
as by enchantment on the shores of San
Francisco and the banks of the Sacramento.
The sails of fleets laden with life and en-
ergy, whiten the Pacific seas ; and giant
steamers crush their way along the virgin
shores of half a continent ! It will not be
long before a ring of iron shall wed the
stormy Atlantic to the Pacific, afibrding
new facilities to American enterprise, and
pointing clearly to American ascendency
in the Pacific. This England sees, but
cannot prevent. She strove hard to ac-
quire California, but her diplomatic arts
were foiled. But she may retard that pre-
ponderance, and, as she hopes, retain her
commercial ascendency in the great cen-
tres of oriental trade. She well knows
that no mode of commimication across the
American continent can seriously affect
that grand, and to her all important branch
of commerce, except it be a canal suffi-
ciently large to pass easily and speedily
the largest vessels with their cargoes ; and
she knows equally well that the only feasi-
ble route for such an enterprise is the Isth-
mus and Lake of Nicaragua.

No sooner did the war with Mexico
break out than she saw that it would only
terminate with large accessions to the
United States on the Pacific. She saw,
too, that these accessions would give new
and practical importance to the questions
of inter-oceanic communication, and she
knew American energy too well not to
dread the result.

192

The Mosquito Question.

[Feb.

Hence the precipitate seizure of the
Port of San Juan^ tvhen the prohability
of the speedy acquisition of California
hy the United States passed into a moral
certainty.

Not that we •would be understood as say-
ing, that this important point would have
escaped ultimate seizure had it not been
for these circumstances. It has been, for
many years, a primary object in British
policy to relieve herself from all depend-
ence on the United States, or any other
nation, for those great staples, of which
cotton is most valuable. Witness her ex-
ertions in the East Indies, her intrigues in
Texas, and her efforts in the Antilles and
South America ! The fertile and compar-
atively salubrious coasts of Central Amer-
ica, adapted in a wonderful degree for the
production of these staples, and occupying
a position eminently favorable for purposes
of communication, did not escape her at-
tention, and the past fifteen years have
witnessed a steady and silent series of en-
croachments, with the ultimate view of the
acquisition of that territory. These en-
croachments have been conducted so qui-
etly as almost entirely to escape the at-
tention of the world ; and it is only now,
when she deems the success of her scheme
complete, that Great Britain permits her-
self to speak of it above a whisper. In
this stealthy policy, the British Govern-
ment has been favored by a variety of cir-
cumstances. No equal portion of either
continent, occupied in whole or part by a
civilized population, has been so little
known as Central America. Situated, for
the most part, upon the Pacific slope of
the Cordilleras, its people, apart from the
reserve of Spanish character, have had but
few opportunities of communicating with
the rest of the world. The traders, in
whose hands centered their commerce,
were too fearful of rivalry and competition
to make known the character and resom'ces
of the country. Besides, the constant dis-
tractions which commenced with the
struggle of their independence and which
have prevailed since that period, and since
the world received that commercial impulse
which, within the past twenty-five years,
has worked such wonders in familiarizing
us with all quarters of the globe, have had
the effect to exclude travellers and to con-
fuse the popular notion in respect to the

country, as well as to divert general at ten
tion from the intrigues and encroachments
which Great Britain has carried on. The
people, also, were so much engrossed in
their disgraceful quarrels, that they neg-
lected their frontier possessions, and failed
to observe and properly repel the insidious
approaches of an unscrupulous power. In
fact, they allowed that power to influence
and inflame their sectional and partisan an-
imosities ; and it is susceptible of proof, that
to British intrigues and influence the disso-
lution of the confederacy (which alone
could oppose a barrier to their designs),
and many of the subsequent distractions,
are attributable. It was British hate, and
the personal enmity of British agents, which
overthrew Morazan, the last pillar of the
republic. It was British aid and influ-
ence which, united with the so-called "no-
bility" of Guatemala, who saw in the spread
of liberal principles the destruction of their
fictitious ascendency, that created a war of
castes and raised up the monster Carrera,
who has watered the soil of Guatemala
with the blood of its best citizens. It was
a British consul-general, — now promoted
to a higher position, — who refused shelter
in his house to the accomplished wife of
the President of the republic when she
sought the protection of his flag against a
bloody and brutal soldiery ! She was the
wife of that President who alone had the
sagacity to discover, and the energy to pre-
vent, the nefarious schemes meditated by
England. It was a British consul-general,
— the one already indicated, — who gave up
to the butchery of Carrera twenty-seven of
the first ofl&cers of the republic, who, under
his own implied, if not express, invitation,
sought protection under his roof. His sub-
ordinate ofl&cer (a vice consul of England)
sent a list of their names to the butcher,
and he stood coldly by when they were shot
down like dogs beneath the shadow of his
portal ! A word from his lips might have
saved them.* But although having a di-
rect bearing upon the subject of which we
design to speak, we have not now the time

* These facts, so disgraceful to humanity, are
communicated by a British subject, and fell with-
in his personal knowledge. Indeed, he was a
guest in the cousul's house at the time of the re-
(iasal to shelter the wife of Morazan, and indig-
nantly abandoned it in consequence.

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

193

to go into a detail and exposition of the in-
trigues, exactions, and frauds practised by
British agents in Central America, upon
then* individual authority or under the
sanction of their government. If impar-
tially recorded, with every extenuation
which charity can suggest, they would
present to the world one of the most dis-
graceful pages in history.

As we have already said, Great Britain
saw, years ago, in Central America, a vast
productive country, the acquisition of which
would relieve her from a dependence which
she was obliged against her will and poli-
cy to endure. She saw there the prospec-
tive construction of a great work which
would make miraculous changes in the
commerce of the world, and reduce her to
the second rank of commercial states. She
determined to secure it to herself; to re-
lieve herself if possible from her depend-
ence, and remove the danger of that com-
mercial revolution which she so much
dreaded.

In this emergency she hesitated not to
avail herself of any pretext, plausible or oth-
erwise, which might come to hand. That
which offered the best prospect of success
was the illegal relationship which English
pirates and the piratical governor of Ja-
maica once maintained with the savages on
the eastern shore of Central America, but
more especially on that portion bearing the

indefinite geographical name of " Mos-
quito Shore.'''' She well knew that any
occupation of this shore by force would
excite the alarm of all the American States,
and involve her in serious difficulties. She,
therefore, adopted a secret policy, relying
on intrigue to effect ultimately what she
dared not to attempt openly and at once.
She affected to treat one of the savage
tribes upon that coast as an independent
nation, and its chief as a sovereign, an ally,
under her protection. As " protector," she
has also assumed to maintain what she calls
his " territorial rights," which rights have
the property of extending wherever and as
far as suits her interests or convenience.
The " King of the Mosquitos" is the stalk-
ing-horse of her aggressions. This augnist
potentate is styled, in some portions of the
correspondence which has passed upon the
subject, "the brother of Queen Victoria."
He is a little Sambo boy, with a precocious
taste for liquor, and rejoices under the
aristocratic name of " Charles Frederick
Augustus,'''' or, in the coui't language of
Mosquito, " Quaggo.''"'

With this preliminary exposition of
British policy, and in order that the reader
may fully understand the nature of Bri-
tish pretensions, we propose to give a suc-
cinct historical sketch of the Mosquito
shore, and trace the origin and progress of
its relations with England.

CHAPTER n.

DISCOVERY CHARACTER OF THE NATIVES, AND THEIR SUBSEQUENT

PIRATICAL ASSOCIATION.

Central America was discovered by
Columbus on his fourth voyage, 1502.
He coasted along its entire eastern shores,
landed, and formally took possession of the
country for the crown of Spain. It was
not long before the enterprising adventur-
ers of that day turned their attention to its
exploration. The object of their ambition
was gold, and of this, the savage inhabi-
tants, of the alluvial eastern shore of Cen-
tral America, had ^but Little to attract the

attention of the conquerors. The latter
accordingly penetrated at once into the in-
terior, and to the region bordering on the
Pacific. Here they found nations possess-
ing a similar semi-civilization with those of
Mexico, and contrasting strongly, in their
superiority, with the squalid hordes wan-
dering among the dense, dark forests of the
Atlantic coast. Here they early founded
cities, and here, in time, grew up a con-
siderable population, holding communica-

194

The Mosquito Question.

[Feb.

tion with the mother country by way of
Panama, through the northern parts of
Honduras, and by way of Lake Nicaragua
and its outlet, the river San Juan. The
Atlantic coast, for these reasons, was -left
with scarcely any population. A few
small settlements were scattered along its
shores, but, when not protected by consid-
erable forces, these were either broken up
by the pirates who not long after infested
the Spanish Main, or were abandoned by
their inhabitants.

Columbus describes the tribes which he
found on the coast to have common habits,
and to correspond generally with Caribs of
the Islands. They had no pretensions to
the degree of civilization of the interior
tribes, and fell below the Indians of the
United States in all that indicates progress
in civilization. They were rude and bar-
barous, living on the natural productions
of the earth, by hunting and fishing. In
fact they were essentially fishers, and had
their haunts along the bays and creeks of
the coast. Among these tribes was one
afterwards called by the pirates " Mous-
ticTis^'''' and by the Spaniards " Moscos^''''
which name in time passed into " ikZbs-
quito,'''' and finally came to be the desig-
nation of a considerable extent of coast.

Lord Palmerston, in his resume of Bri-
tish pretensions on the Mosquito shore,
addressed to the Nicaraguan government,
under date of July 16, 1849, observes that
" the time when, and the manner in which,
the connection between Great Britain and
the Mosc[ui-to coast began, is not well
known."

It is however well known that, imme-
diately after the capture of Jamaica by the
English, under the administration of Crom-
well, it became notoriously the head-quar-
ters of pirates. It was from this point
the Buccaneers started on their expedi-
tions, and it was here they returned to dis-
pose of their plunder. The English in-
habitants of the island were, with scarce
an exception, pirates or the accessories or
patrons of pirates ; the island was sup-
ported by the Buccaneers, and it is a noto-
rious fact that the governors appointed over
that island were too often associated, more
or less directly, with the Buccaneer chiefs.
So scandalous became the conduct of some
of them, that the government, although
little disposed to disturb a system which

contributed so largely to its wealth and
revenues, was forced to remove them. The
actual condition of things, in this respect,
is very well described by Jo. Esquemiling,
a Dutch pirate, who wrote about 1670 : —

" The Kings of Spain have, on several oc-
casions, sent their embassadors to the Kings of
England and France, to complain of the mo-
lestations and troubles these pirates have
caused on the coast of America, even in the
calm of peace. It hath always been answered,
' That such men did not commit these acts as
subjects of their Majcstys, and that, therefore,
his Catholic Majesty might proceed against
them as he should think proper ? The King of
France added ' that he had no fortress or castle
upon Hispaniola, neither did he receive a far-
thing of tribute from thence.' And the King
of England adjoyned, ' that he never gave any
commission to those of Jamaica, to commit
hostilities against the subjects of his Catholic
Majesty.' "

The narrator adds : —

" The King of England, to please the King
of Spain, recalled some Governors of Jamaica,
and placed others in their room, but this did
not prevent the pirates from acting as before."
— Buccaneers in America, -pp. 36-37. Lon-
don, 1704.

It is notorious that in Jamaica, Roche,
Scott, Slonois, Davis (a native), Morgan,
and nearly the enthe body of piratical
leaders originated, or were principally abet-
ted in their enterprises. The honest pi-
rate just quoted says, (p. 49), that, at the
time of his writing, " the Spaniards find-
ing they could gain nothing upon the
pirates or diminish their numbers, resolved
to lessen the number of their trading ships ;
but this was of no service, for the pirates
finding few ships at sea, began to gather
in companies and to land on the Spanish
coasts, ruining cities, towns and villages,
pillaging, burning, and carrying away as
much as they could."

Prominent among the leaders in this
land-piracy were Scott, Mansvelt and Da-
vis. The latter landed at San Juan de
Nicaragua in the night, succeeded in en-
tering the river and penetrating into the
interior. Here he attacked the city of
Grenada, committing great barbarities and
procuring a great amount of plunder, with
which he proceeded to Jamaica, where he
was elected admiral of the pirates. In
1848j a certain Captain Lock committed

1850.]

The Mosquito Question,

195

an act of no less turpidity, under the sanc-
tion of the British government, and, to
complete the parallel, went also to Jamaica
to receive his promotion !

In carrying on their new system of war-
fare, it became necessary for the pirates to
have some stations, rendezvous, or places
of refuge on the main land, as well as on
the islands. Such were organized, and
the most important of them were at Boca
del TorOj Cape Gracias a Dios, and at
Bleevelt^ all on the coast now claimed by
Great Britain as belono-ing to the " King
of Mosquito." Indeed the royal court
of that ebony monarch is held in Blee-
velt^ ( so called from a pirate of that
name,) which has now passed into Blue-
fields. And thus " first commenced " the
intercouse between the savages of this
coast, concerning which Lord Palmerston
is so much in want of information.

The nature of those relations, we pro-
pose to show by extracts from the testi-
mony of the puates themselves ; it will
afterwards be seen that it was little dif-
ferent from that which exists at this day
between the English and the Indians : one
is but the prolongation of the other, under
another name, and beneath the protection
of the British government.

Of the relations between the pirates and
Indians, says the Dutch pirate above quot-
ed : —

"We directed our course towards Gracias a
Dios, for thither resort many pirates who have
friendly correspondence with the Indians there.

"The custom here is that, when any pirates
arrive, every one has the liberty to buy him-
self an Indian woman at the price of a knife,
an old axe, wood-bill or hatchet. By this
contract, the woman is obliged to remain with
the pirate all the time he stays there. She
serves him, the meanwhile, with victuals of
all sorts that the country affords. The pirate
has also liberty to go and hunt and fish where
he pleases.

"Through this frequent converse with the
pirates, the Indians sometimes go to sea with
them, for whole years, so that many of them
can speak English.''^ — lb. pp. 165-168.

He continues to say that they had
among them some negroes, which had been
shipwrecked from a Spanish vessel ; that
they were generally excessively indolent,
" wandering up and down without knowing
or caring so much as to keep their bodies
from the rain, except by a few palm-

leaves," with " no other clothes than an
apron tied around their middle," armed with
spears " pointed with the teeth of croco-
diles ; living chiefly on bananas and other
fruits, with fish," etc., etc.

But we have a later account of this
particular station of the Freebooters, by
De Lusson, who was one of the celebrated
English and French piratical expedition to
the Pacific coasts, in 1784-89. Upon the
return of a portion of this expedition, in-
cluding De Lusson, overland, through Hon-
duras and Nicaragua, they stopped some-
time at Gracias a Dios. He says : —

" We arrived on the 9th at Cape Gracias a
Dios, where we were obliged to wait for the
English ship at the island of Pearls.

" The Cape has been inhabited for a long
time hy mulasters [mulattos] and negroes, both
men and women, who have greatly multiplied
since a Spanish ship bound from Guinea,
freighted with their fathers, was lost by com-
ing too near the shore. Those w^ho escaped
from the wreck were courteously received by
the Mousticks [Mosquitos, as we find the
insect mosquito called by the same name, in
the same page.] who live hereabouts.

" These Indians assigned their new guests
a place to grub up and build themselves cot-
tages, etc.

" The mulasters are a very tall people, and
go almost naked. Some who live more at
their ease, wear shirts and drawers, which the
English bring them from Jamaica.

" They many times do our Freebooters a
kindness, and frequently go with them, receiv-
ing their portion of the booty which is got.

" The ancient Mousticks live ten or a dozen
leagues to the windward, at a place they call
Samboy and Sanihey [Sandy of the modern
maps]. They are very slothful, and neither
plant or sow but very little ; their wives per-
forming all the labor.

" As for their clothing, it is neither larger
nor more sumptuous than that of the mutas-
tersat the Cape. There are but few amongst
them that have a fixed abode, most of them
being vagabonds, and wandering along the
river side, with no other house to shelter them-
selves in but a latarien-leaf which they ma-
nage so that when the wind drives the rain on
one side, they turn their leaf against it, behind
which they lie. When they are inclined to
sleep, they dig a hole in the sand, in which
they i)ut themselves."'

"When these Indians go a journey, though
never so short, they take their wives, children
and dogs with them, etc., etc." — De Lusson's
Narrative, p. 177. London, 1704.

Already the English pirates had opened

196

The Mosquito Question.

[Feb.

an intercourse with the Indians and the
negroes that had been planted there by
circumstances. They took temporary wives
from among them, and grafted their blood
upon the Indian stock. Already some of
the natives had learned English ; they went
with the pirates upon their expeditions ;
and already English manufactures had been
introduced among them, from that nest of
pirates, Jamaica !

This free-and-easy relationship is even
now but little altered, for Macgregor, in
his statement of the Mosquito question,
prepared and published under order of
Parliament, a year or two since, says : —

" In the Mosquito shore a plurality of mis-
tresses is considered no disgrace. It is no
uncommon circumstance for a British subject
to have one or more of these native women at
different farts of the coast. >: They have ac-
quired great influence through them., etc.''''

Roberts, an English trader, who pub-
lished a work on the coast in 1827, says: —

" I have never known a marriage celebrated
among them ; these engagements are mere
tacit agreements, sometimes broken by mutual
consent. The children here and at Bluefields
[which it will soon be seen is the royal capi-
tal,] are in general baptized by the captains
of trading vessels from Jamaica, who on their
annual visit to the coast perform this cere-
mony, with any thing but reverence, on all
who have been born during their absence ;
and many of them are indebted to these men
for more than baptism. In proof of this, I
could enumerate more than a dozen acknowl-
edged children of two of these captains ! who
seem to have adopted, without scruple, the In-
dian idea of polygamy to its fullest extent. By
this licentious and immoral conduct they have,
however, so identified themselves with the na-
tives, as to obtain a sort of monopoly of the
sale of goods. They have also insinuated
themselves into the good graces of some of
the leading men, so that their arrival is hailed
with joy by all classes, as the season of festi-
vity, revelry, christening, and licentiousness !"

These successors of the pirates hail from
the same moral centre — Jamaica !

The intercourse which, as we have shown,
sprung up between the Indians and the
English of Jamaica, was continued in a
more legitimate way, during the protracted
wars that followed with Spain. It was
then that the people and authorities of Ja-
maica had their closest intimacy with the
Mosquito shore. They had the open aid
of the government, in making establish-

ments and exciting the Indians on the
Spanish coast. When peace retm-ned, and
it was no longer prudent to connive at
freebooting, they began to direct their at-
tention to more respectable pursuits. They
began to cut logwood on the coasts, from
whence the Spaniards had been driven from
fear of pirates, or where settlements had
never existed. This trade soon became
profitable, and as early as 1670 received
the attention of the British government,
which stipulated in its treaties with Spain,
that its subjects should enjoy the liberty of
cutting logwood on the Spanish coasts.
The establishments which had been made
at various points, were left to the general
supervision of Jamaica, — that is to say, so
far as any supervision was exercised over
them. To these establishments the pirates,
who had then gone out of favor with the
government, reluctantly resorted, and after
becoming weary of labor in the forests,
made a compromise between honest indus-
try and piracy, and turned smugglers. In
fact, smuggling has always continued to be
a weak point in the wood-cutter's charac-
ter. This conduct renewed difiicultios with
Spain, and she expelled the English from
her coasts ; but some years subsequently
they were permitted to return.

The government and people of Jamaica
were far from being satisfied with the trea-
ty stipulations which had been made in their
favor. They desired that England should
seize upon the entire coast, dwelling much
upon its importance, in a commercial point
of view, and omitting nothing which might
awake the ambition and avarice of the gov-
ernment. But their representations were
without eflfect.

During this time, the intercourse with
the Indians on the Mosquito shore was
kept up ; and, as stated by Macgregor,
" many individual adventurers passed from
time to time from Jamaica to the coast,
and traded with the natives for sarsaparU-
la, deer-skins, and tortoise-shells." And
Lord Palmerston says that about this time
(in 1687), " the Mosquito Indians made
a formal cession of sovereignty of their
country to the King of England, and that
in consequence of this cession, the chief of
the Mosquitos received his appointment as
King, by a commission given him by the
Governor of Jamaica in the name and on
behalf of the King of England."

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

197

But Lord Palmerston forgets to state
that he derives this informatiou from the
papers of Jamaica, and that the cession (if
it ever was made) was made to the Duke
of Albemarle, then Governor of Jamaica,
and that no intelligence of the proceeding
ever reached the home government. That
no such proceeding was ever concurred in
by the government, is clear from its subse-
quent acts. The alleged cession has been
dragged up from the depths of the Jamaica
records of intri(]fues, since England has un-

0 7 o

dertaken a grand hunt for pretexts to
justify her present aggressions. But had
it been known and acknowledged by the
government, it would have been invalid, for
Spain had undoubted sovereignty, in con-
formity with all established principles, over
both the coasts and the natives, as will
appear in due course.

JNIacgregor himself states, that the
" Anglo-Saxon colonists were not long in
discovering profitable channels of com-
merce, and they soon commenced a very
lucrative contraband trade with the Spa-
nish possessions." To put a stop to this,
the government of Spain organized a fleet
of guarda-costas. These soon came in
collision with English traders, and a war
ensued between the two countries. IVIac-
gregor states the ease as strongly as he
dares in favor of his country, in the fol-
lowing words : " The transient commerce
on the Mosquito coast, and the logwood
trade carried on by the English settlers, on
the western part of the bay of Honduras,
Spain thought proper so to interrupt (! !)
by capturing the ships of British subjects
in that part of the world, as to cause the
war of 1739."

At this time the British Government
seems to have seriously meditated taking
possession of the IMosquito shore, — not,
however, by virtue of right derived from
the natives, but by force of arms. In
1749, one year after peace had been con-
cluded between the two countries. Captain
Robert Hodgson proceeded with one hun-
dred men from Jamaica and established a
fort at Black River, on the Mosquito coast.
He took, or bore the title of " Superin-
tendent" of the English settlements. This
step, in conjunction with other circum-
stances, greatly exasperated Spain, and
seven years thereafter led to another and
protracted war, which lasted until 1763.

By the treaty of peace concluded in that
year, England not only agreed to demolish
the fortifications which she had erected on
the continent, without exception, but re-
cognized the IMosquito coast to be the
territory of Spain, — thus, by her own acts,
declaring all her previous pretensions void.
The 17th article of this treaty is as fol-
lows : —

'' His Britannic IVIajesty shall cause to be
demolislied all the fortifications which his
subjects shall have erected on the Bay of
Honduras, and other places, of the territory of
Spain, in that part of the world, within four
months after the ratification of the present
treaty; and his Catholic Majesty shall not
permit his Britannic Majesty's subjects, or
their workmen, to he disturbed or molested,
under any pretence whatsoever, in their said
places of cutting and loading logwood ;. and
for this purpose they may build, withouf hin-
drance, and occupy, without interruption, the
houses and magazines necessary for them, for
their famiUes and effects ; and his CathoHc
Majesty assures to them the full enjoyment
of these advantages and powers in the Spa-
nish coasts and territories, as above stipulated,
immediately after the ratification of the pre-
sent treaty."

Accordingly the fortresses were demo-
lished ; but, subsequently, the adventurers
in the neighborhood of Belize, having
abused the privileges conceded to them,
and engaged largely in smuggling, they
were, in September, 1779, seized and
transported out of the country, and their
property confiscated. So flagrant had
been their conduct, that, in the subsequent
treaty with Spain, in 1783, England never
so much as requested an indemnity for the
property seized, on this occasion, although
it was estimated to amount to upwards of
$500,000.

The sole fortification which the English
had, at the date of the above treaty, upon
the Mosquito shore, (that at Black river),
was evacuated early m 1664, and the gar-
rison withdrawn to Jamaica.

" But," says Macgregor, " the English
Government was soon convinced of the
impolicy of its decision, and continued to
support the settlements which had been
made. From the first establishment of a
superintendent on the coast," this author
confesses, "the settlers perceived, from
the royal instructions given to them,
that althouffh the British Government de-

198

The Mosquito Question.

[Feb.

clined to erect ivimediately the country
into a British province, it was considered
very desirable to encourage its trade and
promote its commerce, and they naturally
concluded that the sooner they were able
to bring its trade into a conspicuous point
of view, they would render it expedient for
His Majesty's ministers to estahlisli a
provisional government /" This needs no
comment ; it is a delicate way of confessing
that a fraud was intended from the start,
and that the relations which are kept up
with this coast, were maintained for pur-
poses of ultimately accomplishing what it
was feared openly to attempt. Some of the
settlers therefore continued to remain, in-
dulging the belief that the Eno-lish Govern-
ment would connive at a violatio n of the
treaty, in event that it should ultimately
be shown to be for the national interest.
They accordingly, after the lapse of six or
eight years, prepared a flattering exhibit of
the extent, fertility, mineral wealth, and
prospective value of the country, and dis-
patched it, in the year 1771, with one of
their munber, Colonel Laurie, to England.
It was shown to Lord Hillsborough"^ then
Secretary of State, and nothing was omit-
ted which it was thought would secure his
concurrence in the contemplated act of bad
faith. These representations were so far
successful that his Lordship secretly prom-
ised to support their project. A grand
scheme was then got up, on the " city of
Cairo" plan, and speculation commenced.
These things came to the knowledge of the
Spanish Government, and the Spanish
guarda-costas iiitcreepted some of the
vessels, plying in furtherance of this illegal
enterprise, between Jamaica and Black
River, and interfered in various ways with
its success. The principals became alarm-
ed and dispirited as to the success of their
plan. They accordingly requested the as-
sistance of the British Government, and
asked for a block-house, amunition, some
of the cannon formerly removed, and a free
company of 50 or 100 men. To this re-
quest Lord George Germain, who had suc-
ceeded to Lord Hillsborough as Secretary
of State, on the 14th of June, 1777, re-
turned an indignant answer, severely re-
buking the authors of the request, and pro-
nouncing it " in direct contravention of the
11 th article of the treaty of Paris o/" 1 7 63 ! "
British subjects, nevertheless, under the

connivance of the Governor of Jamaica,
whose disposition to shelter and encourage
smugglers and pirates seems to have de-
scended to him by virtue of his office, con-
tinued to keep up a kind of relationship with
the coast, inciting the natives by all means in
his power against the Spaniards, and fond-
ly anticipating that by some turn of events
his hopes would be verified. This per-
sistence was one of the causes which led to
the war of 1780. No sooner was the war
declared than this Governor made an at-
tempt upon the Spanish settlements on
Lake Nicaragua, but it signally failed.
The Spaniards, in return, completely dis-
persed the adventurers at Black River,
and cleared the entire coast. After a few
months it was, however, again occupied in
part by British forces, — the two countries
being now actively engaged in warlike ope-
rations. Upon the 3d Sept., 1783, how-
ever, a definitive treaty of peace was con-
cluded between Spain and Great Britain,
at Versailles. It was by this treaty de-
clared that : —

" The intention of the two high contract-
ing parties being to prevent, as much as pos-
sible, all causes of complaint and misunder-
standing heretofore occasioned by the cutting
of wood for dyeing, and several English settle-
ments having been formed and extended under
that pretence upon the Spanish Continent, it is
expressly agreed that liis Britannic Majesty's
subjects shall have the right of cutting, loading,
and carrying logwood in the district (now em-
braced in what is called Belize, and which is
designated by limits in the treaty), and his
Catholic Majesty assures them (the English)
of all that is expiesised in the present article,
provided that this shall not be considered as
derogating in any wise from his rights of sove-
reignly. Therefore, all the English who may
be dispersed in any other parts, whether on the
Spanish Continent, or in any island whatever
dependent on the aforesaid Continent, and for
whatever reason it might be, without excep-
tion, shall retire within the district, (Belize.)
which has been above described."

Notwithstanding the treaty of 1783 (the
objects of which, under any fair construc-
tion, are obviously to clear the Spanish
coasts of English intrusion), Macgregor, in
his statement of the British claim, says
that, " after the full and deliberate discus-
sion of the subject, Great Britaia deter-
mined to retain the Mosquito shore under
its protection and sovereignty." It was to

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

199

afford a pretext for this, he has the shame-
lessness to dechire, that the English nego-
tiators had substituted the " /S^aw/s/i" for the
" American Continent !"* This construc-
tion was not acquiesced in by Spain, who
insisted that additional and more explicit
articles should be agreed upon. Accord-
ingly, after exhausting all pretexts for eva-
sion, on the 14th July, 17S6, Great Britain
assented to a supplementary treaty, by the
very first article of which, it was stipulated
that : —

'' His Britannic Majesty's subjects and
the other colonists tolw have enjoyed the
protection of England shall evacuate the
country of the Mosquitos^ as well as the
continent in general, and the islands adja-
cent, without exception, etc."

This treaty also granted some further
liberties in the territory of Belize, the
limits of which are somewhat extended.
But all British subjects are forbidden to
cultivate the soil, to establish plantations,
or erect mills ; they may take away the
" purely natural " productions of the soil,
but none other. They may also fish on
this limited section of coast, and refit ves-
sels there, but they must conform to the
Spanish regidations. " In view of this,
His Britannic IVIajesty engages to give the
most positive orders for the evacuation of
the countries above named, by all of his
subjects of whatsoever denomination: but,
if, contrary to such declaration, there should
still remain any persons so daring as to
presume, by entering into the interior coun-
try, to endeavor to obstruct the evacuation
agreed upon. His Britannic Majesty, so far
from affording them any succor or even
protection, will disavow them in the most
solemn manner, as he will also do those
who may hereafter attempt to settle on ter-
ritory belonging to the Spanish Govern-
ment." The provisions of this treaty, in-
terrupted by the war of 1796, wererenew-

* As a specimen of British argument upon this
subject, we quote from Macgregor : " Now the
Mosquito shore was uo part of the Spanish Cori-
tineut ; but a part of the Amencan Continent,
possessed by the Mosquito Indians, &,c. There-
fore the evacuation contemplated by this article
had no relation whatever to that country !"' This,
with a full knowledge that all America south of
Mexico was universally known as the " Spanish
Continent,''' and the adjoining sea on the east as
the " Spanish Main,^' is unparalleled for impu-
dence !

ed by the treaty of Madrid, August 2S,
1814.

" It was with the most painful reluc-
tance, and only in obedience to positive
orders," says Macgregor, " that the Bri-
tish settlers slowly and discontentedly left
their plantations. Many of the Creoles and
others preferred to remain at all hazards."
Those who remained subjected themselves
to Spain, and Mr. Robert Hodgson, who
had been the first " British Supeiinten-
dent," received in 17S9, the appointment
of Colonel at the hands of the king of Spain
— "ybr," reads his commission, " the jmr-
ticidar services tvhich he has rendered the
crown of Sjmin on the Mosquito Coast. ''^

Up to this period, we hear but once of a
" Mosquito King." Macgregor states that
in 1775, "an embassy arrived in London,
consisting of young George, his brother,
Capt. Smee, and Capt. Richards, two
Mosquito Chiefs." From the insight
which we shall soon get into the char-
acter of Mosquito royalty, it may safely
be presumed that this august embassy
fell in dignity much short of the embassies
(we call them by the more republican
name of " delegations"), which we annu-
ally receive in ^Vashington from our fron-
tier Indian tribes. The objects of this mis-
sion do not seem to have been very im-
portant ; the sole request having been, so
far as we can learn, that the traders on the
coast should be prevented, for the future,
from carrying away the Indians and selling
them for slaves, — a not unreasonable re-
quest, we should say, and not indicative of
high standards of morality on the part of
the aforesaid traders. Slave stealing is now,
however, synonymous with piracy : it was
then regarded as a crime of less heinous
nature, and the pirates of Jamaica fell into
it as they did into smuggling — without an
efibrt.

But the transitory system of government,
which, Macgregor informs us, was at the
date of this " embassy " established on the
Mosquito shore, must have been in direct
conflict with the rights which the British
Government noio asserts have always be-
longed to the " Mosquito King." That
government consisted, it seems, of a variety
of officers, all of whom were under the con-
trol of the Governor of Jamaica, and in or-
ganizing it no reference whatever was had
to the native chiefs.

200

The Mosquito Question.

[Feb.

This is a fact of importance, as showing
that the English did not, at that time, re-
gard the natives in a light at all differing
from that in which they were every where
else viewed by all nations.

With the treaty of 1786, Great Britain
seems to have relinquished her efforts to
obtain possession of the Mosquito coast as
a British province. The claims of Spain
were too strong, and she was still a power
too formidable to be trifled with longer.
The Spanish Captain General proceeded to
appoint Governors on the coast, and sought
by presents and otherwise, to conciliate the
natives, wean them from their piratical as-
sociations and attack them to Spain. These
attempts have lately been gravely cited as
evidences of the independence of the In-
dians, and the presents of beads and brandy
have been denominated " trihute ;'''' — for
the English advocates of Anglo -Mosqui-
tian rights have not hesitated to place Spain
in the list of States tributary to the august
sovereign of " Mosquito," " the ally'''' of
Great Britain ! The English, under the
treaty, contrived to cut wood in the terri-
tory of Belize, in conformity with the per-
mission granted them by the king of Spain.
This permission was given, it will be re-
membered, with the express provision that
it " should not he considered as derogating
in any wise from the rights of sovereign-
ty possessed by the King of Spain.''''
Nevertheless, upon the decline of Spanish
power on the American Continent, England
continued to hold possession of this terri-
tory and still continues to hold it, although
falling properly within, and belonging of
right to, the free States which comprehend-
ed it while provinces of Spain. An armed
force is maintained there, where, from time
to time, have been concocted the villanies
subsequently practised on the Mosquito
shore. Says Macgregor, " the right to
Belize by occupation and possession is, un-
doubtedly, vested in the British Crown."
The extent of territory thus fraudulently
held is, in length, about 175 miles, in
breadth 110 miles ; comprising an area of
16,400 square miles — about three times the
extent of the State of New Jersey.

Notwithstanding the formal abandon-
ment by Great Britain, of all pretensions
in the Mosquito coast, and her absolute
disavowal of any of her subjects who '■'■dared''''
(that is the word) to remain there, some.

as we have seen, continued to remain, sub-
jecting themselves to Spanish authority,
but still cherishing the hope that Great
Britain would ultimately break the treaty
of 1786, as she had broken previous ones.
In this hope they were encom-aged by the
speculators in Jamaica, especially those
who had got up the famous plan sanctioned
by Lord Hillsborough in 1771. Under
their auspices, somewhere about 1820, a
certain General Sir Gregor Macgregor, set
himself up as an independent sovereign on
this coast, in the vicinity of the celebrated
Black River, where the English fortifica-
tions once existed. The title which he
assumed was " Cacique of Toyais^"* and
we have before us abook published in 1822,
entitled, " A Sketch of the Mosquito
Shore including the territory of Poy-
Ais, hy Thos. Strangeways, K. G. C, Cap-
tain 1st Native Payer regiment, and Aid-
de-camj) to His Highness., Gregor ^Cacigue
of Poyais f'' A portrait of "His High-
ness," a burly Scot, embellishes this vo-
lume, and in the preface we are informed
" that the chief of the very old clan of
Alpine or Gregor, is directly descended
from the ancient kings of Scotland, is
generally known and admitted ; and the
author ventures to assert that, the right of
His Highness Gregor, Cacique of Poyais,
to the Chieftanship cannot be disproved !"
Probably not ; but where all this time was
that august potentate, the early " ally of
Great Britain^'''' HisMightiness the '•'■King
of Mosquito V What right had the chief
of Clan -Alpine of Scotland, to set himself
up as Cacique of Clan-Poyer in America ?
The secret of the establishment of the
Cacique may, perhaps, be discovered in the
summing up of the volume just mentioned,
in which it is said, that " if the Poyais
establishment is sustained," the British
West Indies would no longer be dependent
on the United States for the necessaries of
existence, " a circumstance devoutly to he
wished hy every person interested in the
welfare of Great Britain /" So ho !
This is as early as 1822, before the " 7?e-
cessity''"' of being able to procure its cotton
from other parts of the world than the
United States, became a controlling con-
sideration in British policy .''

Macgregor passes over the attempt of
the Cacique, referring to his plans as " ill-
judged," and the administrations which fol-

1850.]

The Mosquito Qiiestion.

201

lowed him as "imprudent." The secret
of this censure is siniply because these
plans were unsuccessful.

The attempts of the Cacique failed ;
meantime the Spanish colonies threw oiF
the rule of the mother country, and or-
ganised independent Governments of their
own. While they were involved in the dis-
tractions consequent upon the transition,
Great Britain again directed her longing
eyes to the coasts which she had been
compelled to abandon. Circumstances now
seemed favorable for a renewal of her at-
tempts. She hesitated not to recognise
the independence of the new States, for
she thereby weakened the power of Spain.
The young and feeble republics, she well
knew, could oppose fewer obstacles to her
ambitious designs. But it was necessary to
proceed with caution. The Government of
the United States was watchful and had pro-
claimed that any interference with the new
republics, by foreign powers, would be an
act of hostility against herself. She had de-
clared that the American continent was no
longer to be considered as subject to colo-
nization by any European power. It was
not politic, therefore, to seize forcibly upon
the Mosquito shore, as had been attempted
before the treaty of 1786. In this emer-
gency, the unscrupulous government of
Jamaica, that hot-bed of roguery, and the
equally unscrupulous directors of the quasi
colony of Belize, were at hand with expe-
dients. The mixed and bastard brood, the
strange agglomeration of negroes, whites
and Indians, existing on the Mosquito shore
was to be raised to the dignity of a nation
independent and sovereign ! This pretext
which was thrown aside as unnecessary
when it was safe to assert English interests
by force, was now revived. The old specu-
lators in Poyais and the Black River were
" on hand." A convocation was held at
Belize, and a course of action agreed upon.
It was necessary to make a " King'''' for
the sovereignty of Mosquito, and Colonel
M'Donald, the Superintendent, and his as-
sociates at Belize, were adequate to the
task. The time for the Government of
Great Britain to appear openly in the farce,
had not yet arrived. Accordingly, as early
as June, 1815, the British traders and
secret agents got together a number of
chiefs, and in a drunken bout, prevailed
upon them to affix their " his "^ mark''''

to a document previously drawn up, and
called an '■'■Act of Allegiance to Prince
Frederick;^ a sambo, who had been fixed
upon as a convenient ini?trument to carry
out the ulterior designs of the conspirators.
He was taken to Belize and " crowned"
on the 18th of January, 1816. Macgregor
draws no very flattering character for his
ebony Majesty. He observes that " he
combined the bad qualities of the European
and Creole, with the vicious propensities of
the sambo, and the capriciousness of the
Indian." He was killed in a drunken
quarrel, in 1824. His half-brother, named
Rohert, succeeded him, but beinf in the
Spanish interests, the British manao-ers
thrust him aside, and took into favour a
sambo named " George Frederick,'''' a de-
scendant, says Macgregor, " from a more
ancient branch of the family." But he too
was a bad tool, and died or was dropped,
very early in his reign, for ^'■Robert Charles
Frederick,''^ who promised to answer every
purpose

His " coronation" was effected at Belize
(of course) on the 23d of April, 1825, upon
which solemn occasion a number of so-called
chiefs were got together, by the seductions
of Jamaica rum. We are willing to allow
a British subject to describe this ceremony :

" On the previous evening, cards of invita-
tion were sent to the different merchants, re-
questing their attendance at the Court-house
early in the morning. At this place the King,
dressed in a British Major's uniform, made his
appearance ; and his chiefs similarly clothed,
but with sailors trousers, were ranged around
the room. A more motley group can hardly
be imagined. Here an epaulette decorated a
herculean shoulder, tempting its dignilied
owner to view his less famed neighbor with
triumphant glances. Then a wandering but-
ton displayed a greasy olive skin, under the
uniform of a Captain of Infantry. At one
side a cautious noble might be seen carefully
braced up to the chin, like a modern dandy
defying the most penetratiiig eye to prove him.
shirtless ; while the mathematical movements
of a fourth, panting under such tight habili-
ments, expressed the fear and trembling with
which he awaited some awful accident. ,

" The order of procession being arranged,
the cavalcade moved towards the church ; his
Mosquito Majesty on horseback, supported on
the right and leftby the two senior British offi-
cers of the settlement, and his chiefs following
on foot two by two. On its arrival, his Majesty
was placed on a chair, near the altar, and the

202

The Mosquito Question.

[Feb.

English Coronation Service was read by the
Chaplain to the colony, who, on this occasion,
performed tlie part of the Arch-bishop of Can-
terbury. When he arrived at this part, 'And
all the people said, let the King live for ever,
long live the King, God save the King,' the
vessels of the port, according to a previous
signal, fired a salute, and the chiefs rising,
cri ed out, ' Long live King Robert !'

" His Majesty seemed chiefly occupied in
admiring his finery, and after his anointing,
expressed his gratification by repeatedly thrust-
ing his hands through his thick bushy hair and
applying his finger to his nose ; in this ex-
pressive manner indicating his delight at this
part of the service.

" Before, however, his chiefs could swear al-
legiance to their monarch, it was necessary
that they should profess Christianity ; and,
accordingly, with shame be it recorded, they
were baptized, ' in the name of the Father,
Son, and Holy Ghost.' They displayed total
ignorance of the meaning of this ceremony,
and when asked to give their names, took the ti-
tles of Lord Rodney, Lord Nelson, or some other
celebrated officer, and seemed grievously dis-
appointed when told that they could only be
baptized by simple Christian names.

" After this solemn mockery was concluded,
Uie whole assembly adjourned to a large school
room to eat the coronation dinner, when these
poor creatures got all intoxicated with rum ;
a suitable conclusion to a farce as blasphe-
mous and wicked as ever disgraced a Chris-
tian country." — {Dimii's Central America, p.
26, 27, 1828.) •;''■'• .. ' ■•

The coronation baubles of the kings of
England are kept in the Tower of London,
and exhibited, " for a consideration," to
the curious. Not so with those of the sov-
ereigns of Mosquito. We are informed
by Roberts, in his work on this country,
that " the crown and other regalia are in-
trusted to Jack, an old negro, at Patook
River, who keeps them carefully conceal-
ed." It would seem there is no occasion
for this extreme caution on the part of old
Jack, for Macgregor states that " the rega-
lia consists of a silver gilt crown, a sword,
and sceptre of moderate value, presents
from the English !"

King Robert Charles Frederick does not
seem to have conformed, in all respects, to
the desires of his British " Warwicks."
Of his sovereign will and pleasure, he pro-
ceeded to dispose of portions of his domin-
ions, in return for divers barrels of whis-
key aad bales of red cottons. Macgregor

says that " it appears that these grants were
made witliout the knowledge of the British
agent, who had usually heen residing
{aha !) on the coast, to keep up the con-
nection with England." He afterwards
adds that upon " their coming to the know-
ledge of the British government, it very
^7-o^erZy determined to disallow thexap^
Queer protection, that !

These grants are important ; for if the
Mosquitos constitute a nation, and their
chiefs are truly independent sovereigns,
then neither England nor the Indians
themselves have the slightest claim to more
than a very small part of the Mosquito
shore. If they do not constitute a nation,
and their chiefs are not sovereigns, then
Great Britain stultifies herself by her pre-
tensions. She may take either horn of the
dilemma she pleases : both are equally fatal
to her claims.

One of the principal grants of his Ma-
jesty, Robert Charles Frederick, is as fol-
lows : —

grant to john sebastian rennick.

Be known by these presents, and by fostek-
ITY, that We, Robert Charles Frederick,
King of the Mosquito Nation, considering the
services which may be made to us, and to our na-
tion, by John Sebastian Rennick, of the city of
London, merchant ; and in consideration of the
sum of i^l,000, which said Renniek has paid to
us, and the receipt of which we hereby acknow-
Ifdgc, with our own free will, we grant and con-
vey, by the same, under the Seal of our kingdom,
in favor of said John Sebastian Renniek, his
heirs and representatives forever, all the'river Pa-
took, located between 15 deg. 48 min, N. Lat.,
and 84 deg. 14 min. W. Long., at the distance of
40 miles from the mouth of a certain river of our
kingdom, called Black River, to the E. S. E.
thereof, together with tlie whole territory adjacent
said River Patook, viz : 10 Engli-^h miles mea-
sured from each bank of said river, from its mouth
as far as the Spanish limits, (according to the map
of Com. Owen), with all the cultivable lands,
meadows, pastures, waters, woods, forests, streams,
and waterfalls, fisheries, duties and rights belong-
ing to said lands, or to any part of them whatever.
Item. Said Renniek and his heirs, or represen-
tatives, shall hold and possess said lands and pro-
perties, and they, and the inabitants of said lands,
shall have the right to make use of them, to go in
or out of them, and to navigate in all the rivers or
waters in, or adjacent to them, without let or hin-
drance on the part of our subjects, and they may-
introduce foreigners, and all kinds of persons to
populate and colonize said district, and cultivate
lands, &c., &c., &c., &c., &.C., and the said
Renniek, his heirs, or successors, shall have the
right to impose and receive contributions, taxes,

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

203

Thomas Haly ; and by the said Robert Charles
Frederic delivered to the said Samuel Shep-
herd, Peter Shepherd, and Stanislaus Thomas
Haly, their Heirs and Assigns for ever, in the
presence of us.

Signed, Sealed, and delivered in the presence
of us, George Vize, Thomas Lowry Robinson,
Gen. Peter Slam.

This grant was further fortified by the
following document. We believe the sig-
natures are those of " His Majesty's"
peers at Bluefields :

Mosquito Shore, ss.

These are to certify that in consequence of
the very low price of Tortoise Shell, on which
we and our people mainly depend for our liv-
ing, it is entirely out of our power to pay our
debts, as we can barely support ourselves and
our families, it therefore gives great satisfac-
tion that our good King, Robert Charles Fre-
deric, has, by giving a grant of land on the

Mosquito Shore, from the southward of Great
River to Messrs.'^ Shepherd and Haly, freed
us from all debts due to those traders ; and
we do certify that said grant has our decided
approbation, as exclusive of the benefit of
clearing us from a large amount of debts, we
have the prospect, likewise, of seeing thriving
Colonies established on the Mosquito shore.
Given under our hand at Bluefields, this 24th
day of January, 1839.

George Hodgson,
Alexander Hodgson,
William Halstead Ingram,
Henry Hodgson,
James Porter.
Witnesses,
George C. Shepherd,
S. T. Haly, Junior.

We would call special attention to the
names of the witnesses to these grants, as
they win shortly appear in new and singu-
lar connections.

To be Continued.

TOL. y. NO. n. NEW SERIES.

204

Congressional Summary.

[Feb.

CONGRESSIONAL SUMMARY.

As has been anticipated, all the usual po-
litical questions demanding the attention of
the national Legislature, have been reduced
to matters of minor importance, by the mag-
nitude of the great sectional one of Negro
Slavery. This subject has occupied a promi-
nent position from the first day that the mem-
bers assembled for their organization. The
gentlemen from the South have come to Wa.sh-
ington, evidently in a temper that threatens
mischief. The alacrity with which they
seize on points that will permit an attack on
the Free States — the fiery manner of their as-
saults— their violent denunciations of every
kind of legislation which can in any way
restrict the extension of slavery, all show
that the period has now arrived when this
question must be finally settled. The Wil-
niot Proviso has placed the Free and the
Slave States in direct hostility to each other.
Both sections profess to have planted them-
selves on principles from which neither can
recede without discredit. The Free States
declare in every possible way in which they
can express public opinion, that soil belong-
ing to the United States, and which is now
free from the scourge of slave labor, shall for-
ever remain so ; the Southern States, on the
other hand, with just as much resolution, and
with even more energy, declare that their
rights are absolute to carry slavery into any
Territor)^ belonging to the United States,
except that from which it is excluded by
the Missouri Compromise. The people of
the South maintain that this is not only a
common right which they po.ssess with all
the people of the Union, but that it may also
be regarded as a right derived from necessity.
As the number of slaves increase, new lands
must be found on which they can be profit-
ably employed. If there be no such relief as
this, the time must naturally arrive when the
slave population, becoming excessive, will
cease to have any value as property, and will
be unable to supply themselves with food
and clothing.

The first' belligerent demonstration made
in the Senate, was on a resolution oiTered by
Mr. Walker, on the 19th of December, pro-
posing that Father Mathew, the Irish advo-
cate of Temperance, should be allowed the
privilege of a seat within the bar of that

body. Strong opposition was made to it by
several Southern members, because, some
years since he, with Daniel O'Connell, had
addressed the Irish people living in America,
in language stigmatizing slavery, and recom-
mending that they should all support, politi-
cally, the advocates of abolition.

Mr. Clemens, of Alabama, in his remarks,
was particularly excited ; and not content
with his attack on the " Apostle of Tempe-
rance," he very soon opened out the whole
field of Northern Abolitionism ; and, at
length, all the Free States came to be inclu-
ded in his invectives. There are, said he to
the Northern Senators, objects of charity
enough, without hunting for slaves upon
whom to bestow it. There are at this very
moment in all your great cities, thousands of
homeless wretches, destitute of food or rai-
ment, and without a thought or an instinct that
is not colored by crime. There are hordes of
wretched females toiling by day and by night
for a miserable pittance, which only adds to
the horrors of starvation, by protracting the
agonies of the sufferer. There are bands of
little children to whom beggary has descend-
ed as an inheritance ; and for whom a State
prison is a welcome asylum. Misery in all
its forms — poverty in all its rags — sickness
and starvation are around you ; and yet, with
a miserable hypocrisy, you must travel away
to the south, and waste your sympathies upon
a population who are better clothed, better
fed, who work less and live more happily
than four-fifths of yourselves. You compel
a poor factory girl to perform an amount of
labor which is not exacted from healthy and
robust men by the planters of the South — sepa-
rate her from her friends and relations — allow
no one to visit her without a loritten pass from
an overseer, and all the while thank God that
you are free from the curse of African sla-
very. Nay, more; you assume to be of a
better and a purer race. You unblushingly
assert, on all occasions, that while the pistol
and the bowie knife give law to the South,
you are in the constant observance of moral
and religious precepts. Sir, I admit with re-
gret that there are occasional scenes of vio-
lence among us, and that sometimes, we for-
get the value of human life ; but our offences
have always a touch of manliness in them.
There are no petty larcenies — no outrages
upon unprotected females — no midnight as-

1650.]

Congressional Nummary.

205

sassinations for money. When we stoop to
imitate the brute creation, we take the lion,
not the hyena, for our model. But, while I
make the admission that we are not altogether
free from crime, let me ask how stands the
case with you T The city of New York alone
furnishes more State prison convicts than the
whole fifteen Southern States together. You
tear down churches ; burn up convents, in-
habited by a few helpless nuns; get up i)ro-
cessions in honor of a brutal prize-fighter ;
and raise riots at the bidding of a worthless
player, in which scores of lives are sacrificed,
without dreaming that there is any thing in
all this unbecoming the descendants of the
pilgrim fathers. Look at home, I say ; cor-
rect your own iniquities, relieve your own suf-
ferers, and then, but not till then, you may
prate of the crime and misery which slavery
engenders.

I regret, he continued, that this debate has
sprung up. I regret still more the course it has
taken — not, however, from prudential consid-
erations ; not because, as the Senator from
Kentucky has intimated, it is imprudent to
discuss matters in relation to slavery, but be-
cause this question must soon be met in ano-
ther form, and I was willing to let it slumber
till then. But I may as well now say that the
time for prudential action is past. The dis-
ease is a desperate one, and requires despe-
rate remedies. For one, sir, I yield no inch
of ground — no, not one hair's breadth. When-
ever this anti-slavery sentiment shows itself,
whatever form it may assume, I am ready to
do battle against it. The time for half mea-
sures has gone by. You must let us alone, or
take the consequences.

After a very long debate, much of which
was in the same tone, the question was taken
and decided in the affirmative by a vote of
33 to 18.

On the 3d of January, the slave question
was renewed on the presentation by^ Mr.
Atchison of resolutions passed by the gene-
ral Assembly of the State of Missouri, in
which the right of Congress to legislate in
such manner as to affect the institution of
slavery in the States, the District of Colum-
bia, or in the Territories, is denied. They de-
clare that the right to prohibit slavery in any
Territory belongs exclusively to the people
thereof ; and they conclude by saying that in
the event of the passage of any act conflict-
ing with the principles that they have already
expressed, Missouri will be found in hearty
co-operation with the slave-holding States in
such measures as may be deemed necessary
for their mutual protection against the en-
croachments of northern fanaticism.

Mr. Benton declared that the resolutions
did not represent the sentiments of the people
of Missouri, who are a law-abiding and a

Union-loving people, and have no idea of en-
tering into combinations to resistor intimidate
the legislation of Congress. The General As-
sembly of the State had mistaken the senti-
ment of the State, and many members who
voted for the resolutions, and the Governor
who signed them^ have since disavowed and
repudiated them.

He asserted that the pledge that they con-
tained Avas a mistake, and let Congress do
what it might, the people of his State would
abide the decision of the ballot box and the
bench. It is only this course that can save
the Union from the fate of all the Confedera-
cies which have successively appeared and
disappeared in the history of nations. Anar-
chy among its members and not tyranny in
the head, has been the rock on Avhichall such
Confederacies have split. The authors of our
present form of government knew the danger
of this rock, and by forming a perfect Union
they provided against it. They established a
federal judiciary to execute the federal laws
when found to be con.stitutional, and popular
elections to repeal them when found to be
bad. Mr. B. pursued this argument consid-
erabl}" further, and he quoted from the papers
of the Federalist to show the difference be-
tween the "league," which was abandoned
and the Union that was formed when the Con-
stitution was adopted. To render the Union
as permanent as possible, the States were
forbid to form compacts or agreements with
each other ; the Constitution and the laws
made in pursuance of it were declared to be
the supreme law of the land ; and all autho-
rities, state and federal, legislative, executive,
and judicial, were to be sworn to support it.
The resolutions Avhich have been read contra-
dict all this, and the General Assembly mistook
their own powers as much as they mistook the
sentiments of the people of Missouri, when
they adopted them.

On the 4th of January, General Cass ad-
dressed the Senate on his proposition to in-
quire into the expediency of suspending diplo-
matic relations with Austria, on account of the
alleged barbarities committed during the war
in Hungary. Mr. Cass made a very long and
able speech in support of his resolution. A
general debate took place, in which Mr. Clay
joined. He argued that the resolution was
inexpedient in every respect. The inquiry
Avould be useless, and if it was determined to
suspend our relations with Austria, it would
be worse than useless. In.stead of withdraw-
ing a mere Charge, he had expected that the
Senator would have proposed to send to that
country some wise, energetic, and able man
to plead the cause of Hungary, and to remon-
strate in behalf of the unfortunate patriots.
We do not send ministers to foreign nations
on account of the respect we entertain for the

206

Congressional Summary.

[Feb.

country to which they are sent, but to main-
tain the rights and interests of Americans.
Where is this principle to end if we adopt it ?
We may hereafter be called on to pursue the
same course on account of the religion or
morals of some other nation. Why not try
Russia by the same rule '\ Why not include
Spain on account of the Inquisition ? The
policy of our government is not to interfere
with European nations in their affairs. Mr.
FooTE replied to Mr. Clay in an animated
speech, but the question was left undecided.

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES.

On Saturday^ the 22d of December, the bu-
siness of the day commenced by an announce-
ment made by Mr. Stanton, of Tennessee,
that he had a proposition to submit, which
was the result of the deliberations of a Com-
mittee of Conference, appointed by the Whig
and Democratic parties of the House, in the
hope of affecting an organization. This was
a signal for a most tumultuous scene, in
which Mr. Toombs, of Georgia was the prin-
cipal character. He insisted on his right to
debate, contrary to a resolution of the mem-
bers, by which all debate had been precluded.
The gentleman continued to talk amidst gen-
eral cries of ^' order," and during the time
that the clerk was calling the yeas and nays
on a motion.

Mr. Stanton at length having obtained an
opportunity of being heard, rose and called
for the reading of the proposition which he
had submitted, viz :

Resolved, That the House will proceed im-
mediately to the election of a Speaker, viva
voce, and if, after the roll shall have been
called three times no member shall have re-
ceived a majority of the whole number of
votes, the roll shall again be called, and the
member who shall then receive the largest
number of votes, provided it be a majority of
a quorum, shall be declared the Speaker.

Several motions and amendments were
made by which to dispose of this resolution,
but all were rejected, and the resolution was
adopted as it was originally proposed, by a
vote of 113 to 106 — Mr. Winthrop voting
for it, and Mr. Cobb, of Georgia, against it.

The three votings being exhausted without
effecting an election, the contingency had ar-
rived that was contemplated in Mr. Stanton's
proposition. The House, therefore, proceed-
ed to vote for the sixty-third time, with the
following result :]

Howell Cobb, of Georgia, 102; Robert C.
Winthrop, of Mass., 100; David Wilmot, of
Pa., 8 ; Charles Morehead, of Ky., 4 ; Wil-
liam Strong, of Pa., 3; A. H. Stephens, of
Georgia, 1 ; William F. Colcock, of S. C. 1 ;
Charles Durkee, of Wisconsin, 1 ; Emery D.

Potter, of Ohio, 1 ; Linn Boyd, of Ky., 1 ;
the whole number of votes being 222.

The Democrats generally voted for Mr.
Cobb, and the Whigs for Mr. Winthrop. The
free soilers and others who were irreconcile-
able to either of the two prominent condidates,
gave their votes as we shall now present
them :

For David Wilmot. — Messrs. Allen, Booth,
Durkee, Giddings, Howe, Julian, P. King, and
Root.

For A. H. Stephens.— Mr. E. C. Cabell.

For Wm. Strong. — Messrs. Cleveland,
Doty, and Peck.

For Wm. F. Colcock. — Mr. Holmes.

For Charles S. Morehead. — Messrs. Morton,
Owen, A. H. Stephens, and Toombs.

For Charles Durkee. — Mr. Wilmot.

For Emery D. Potter. ~M.x. Wood.

For Linn Boyd. — Mr. Woodward.

Mr. Cobb having been declared, by a reso-
lution submitted by Mr. Stanley, to be duly
elected, he was conducted to the Chair by Mr.
Winthrop and Mr. McDowell. After a mo-
ment's pause, he arose and addressed the
House as follows :

Gentlemen of the House of Representatives :

It would be useless to disguise the fact that
I feel deeply embarrassed in taking this chair
under the circumstances attending my election,

I am conscious of the difBculties by which
this position is surrounded at the present time.

The peculiar organization of this body, as
exhibited in our proceedings since we first
met — the nature and character of the various
important exciting questions of public policy
which will engage our attention during the
present session of Congress, conspire to ren-
der the duties of the office peculiarly embar-
rassing, onerous, and responsible.

I may be permitted, therefore, to ask in ad-
vance your generous aid and support in the
effort I shall make, firmly, faithfully, and im-
partially, to discharge its duties.

The country has been looking with anxiety
to our efforts to effect an organization. The
people will continue to regard with intense in-
terest every step we take in our legislative
course. Our duties will be laborious, our re-
sponsibilities great. Let us, then, in view of
these considerations, invoke, in the discharge
of these duties, a patriotism as broad as the
Union, and as comprehensive as the nature
and character of her various interests and in-
stitutions. Guided by this spirit, under the
blessing of Heaven, our action will result in
the continued prosperity of our common
country.

Accept, gentlemen, my grateful acknow-
ledgments for the honor you have conferred
on me in selecting me as your presiding officer
during the present Congress.

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

207

The Speaker was then sworn to support the
Constitution of the United States, after which
tlie House adjourned to Monday, the 24th,
when the formalities of administering the oath
to all the members were gone through with,
and the 31st Congress was pronounced organ-
ized for legislative business. Up to this day-
no proceedings of this nature had taken place.
The whole time of Congress had been chiefly
occupied, with the exception of some execu-
tive matters in the Senate, in the struggle
between parties and factions. Mr. Bliss, his
Private Secretary, delivered at the Speaker's
Chair the Annual Message of the President of
the United States, accompanied with official
Eeports.

On Thursday, the 27th of December, the
House assembled for the dispatch of business,
and after adopting a resolution in relation to
the Rules, Mr. Venable offered a resolution
which was substantially as follows :

That the President of the United States b e
requested to communicate to the House whe-
ther, since the last session of Congress any
person had been by him appointed either a
civil or military governor of California or
New Mexico, and if so, his name and com-
pensation ; and if the duty of a military and
civil governor had been united in the same
person. Also, whether any agent or agents
had been appointed and sent to those Territo-
ries, authorized to organize the people of
said Territories into a government, or to aid
and advise them in such an organization, or to
advise them as to the formation of a govern-
ment for themselves. Also, that the Presi-
dent be requested to communicate to the House
all the instructions given to such governor,
civil or military, or to any officers of the army
of the United States, or any other persons,
and the proclamations and communications by
them made to the people of said Territories,
as well as the entire correspondence of such
agents or governors with this Government.
Also, whether any person or persons have
been authorized to appoint and direct elections
in said Territories, and determine the qualifi-
cations of voters at the same ; and whether
any census of the citizens of the said Territo-
ries has been made, and that the same, if made,
be communicated to this House. This reso-
lution, according to rule, was ordered to lie
over one day.

It was moved by Mr. Burt, that the Speak-
er do now appoint the Standing Committees of
the House. Mr. Sackett proposed an amend-
ment that would give the election of these
Committees to the House.

Mr. Root said to his friend that he was too
late, and that he should have thought of this
proposition when they were deciding on the
plurality vote for Speaker, who was in the
Chair by the votes both of political friends
and enemies. The Speaker no doubt regard-

ed the resolution of Mr. Stanly as his best
title for the position which he occupied. A
Speaker thus elected might surely be trusted
with the formation of the Committees. After
making a Speaker by a vote nearly unanimous
— there being about thirty dissenting voices —
the House Avould present itself in a strange
and ridiculous situation, if they took away
from him the appointment of the Committees
of the House.

Mr. GiDDiNGs continued this strain, and
said that the Speaker held his seat as the re-
sult of the plurality rule, which was forced
upon the House by the Whig party, aided by
a small portion of those of the opposite side
of the House. The Whig party had had it
in their power at any time to elect a proviso-
ist from Pennsylvania. Mr. Giddings next
assailed Mr. Winthrop, and charged him
with favoring the interests of slavery in ap-
pointing the Committee on the District of Co-
lumbia. That Committee, during the last ses-
sion of Congress, said he, appeared to have
been studiously arranged to preserve the infa-
mous commerce in human flesh carried on in
that city. All the revolting scenes that the
members of the Committee had witnessed in
the Washington slave market — the voice of
humanity — the sentiment of the North, were
all insufficient to extort from that Committee
a report against the slave trade, or even a
word of reproof against that traffic, for pur-
suing which, on the eastern shores of the At-
lantic, we hang men as unsuited to human as-
sociation. He never could be brought to sus-
tain the late Speaker after he had made such
appointments. It was certain that the present
Speaker could do no worse, and there was a
chance that he might do better.

Mr. Winthrop replied, and began by re-
marking that he desired to say only a few-
words. He did not propose to enter into an
elaborate answer to the remarks of the gentle-
man of Ohio, but preferred rather to remind
the House that a reply had already come from
a gentleman on the other side, (Mr. Johnson,
of Tenn.) who had held him up as having, in
every respect, gone against Southern views,
and used the power and patronage of the
House against them. He was quite willing to
let these counter-speeches go out to the
country in reply the one to the other. The
gentleman from Ohio had defended the vote
he had given against him (Mr. Winthrop) for
Speaker two years before, by stating in the
public papers that he (Mr. W.) had gone into
a Whig caucus at the time the war-bill was
about to be passed, and made a speech in fa-
vor of the war; and he had placed the whole
course of his action against him (Mr. W.) on
that ground. The statement was wholly false,
and he had testimony which the House would
trust, to prove it so. He had already disprov-
the story; but the gentleman had repeated the

208

Co?igressional Summarij.

[Feb.

charge in a second letter, and not having with-
drawn it when it had been shown to be untrue
he was no longer entitled to respect. Mr.
WiNTHROP continued for some time longer,
and made it appear that the Committee he had
appointed had reported a bill to abolish the
slave trade in the District, and it was admit-
ted by gentlemen from the free States to be a
very great improvement upon any bill which
had previously been reported to the House. Mr.
WiNTHROP manifested considerable warmth
during his remarks, and in concluding he said he
had not intended to allow the gentleman from
Ohio to ruffle his feelings, but he trusted he
should very soon recover his ordinary calm-
ness. A time might come in the course of the
Session when he might feel more at liberty
than he had ever before felt, or than he now-
felt to go into this subject, and say something
in reply to the gentleman from Ohio and the
gentleman from Tennessee. For the present
he would leave them to answer each other.

Mr. Rockwell continued the dispute, and
showed how little ground there was for the
charge of Mr. Giddings respecting the action
of the Committee on Territories. The fact was
that but three legislative days had passed be-
tween the appointment of the Committee and
the passage of a resolution of the House in
structing it to report bills for the organization
of territorial governments containing the pro-
visions of the ordinance of 1787, or as it is
called, the Wilmot Proviso. There was, there-
fore, neither a refusal to report, nor a delay in
reporting. As to the present appointment of
the Committees by the Speaker, he was in fa-
vor of it, because it would cause only great
confusion and delay to select them in any
other manner. In whatever way Committees
may be constituted, they cannot entirely con-
trol the course of business and the policy of
the House. The majority, wherever that may
be found, will direct its proceedings. Mr.
Rockwell was one of those who had voted
for the measure which resulted in the organ-
ization of the House. Three weeks had been
spent in vainly endeavoring to elect a Speaker
by a majority vote. The interests of the
country demanded an organization, and there
was but that one mode left to accomplish such
an end. It had been in the power of Mr.
Giddings and his friends to have changed the
result and secured the election of Mr. Win-
THROP. There stands the unalterable record.
For Mr. Cobb, one hundred and two votes;
for Mr. WiNTHROP, one hundred votes.

Mr. ScHENCK expressed the reluctance with
which he took part in this extraordinary de-
bate. He went on to define his position and
that of his party, and he defended Mr. Win-
THROP in a very able manner from the charges
which Mr. Giddings had made. He showed
that Mr. Winthrop had always been a con-

sistent advocate of the docrine of the Wilmot
Proviso, and had moved to incorporate that
very provision into the Oregon bill. He had
opposed the annexation of Texas in the twen-
ty-eighth Congress, from the beginning to the
end. Mr. Schenck proceeded to show the
inconsistency that the Free Soil Members had
displayed in voting for Mr. Brown, who had
ever been opposed to them, and favorable to
the slave interests, and in refusing to vote for
Mr. WiNTHROP whose whole political life had
been adverse to the extension of the area of
slavery. Mr. Brown had been for the annex-
ation of Texas, for stifling debate, for laying
on the table and smothering resolutions in-
quiring into the propriety of abolishing slav-
ery in the district of Columbia, and extending
the ordinance of 1787 over all the territories
of the United States. Mr. Giddings knew
these facts, yet he chose to vote for the gen-
tleman from Indiana upon a pledge of that
gentleman, vamped up for the occasion, con-
tradicting the tenor of his whole previous
course. Mr. S. averred that he had but little
faith in these sudden conversions, and least of
all had he faith in them when they seemed to
have been made under the strong impulsive
influence of a reward just ahead, that was to
be given in case pledges were made on the
other side. He denounced the system of ex-
acting pledges, and said there were persons at
each end of the Union, who made this a con-
dition of support — in the South they would not
vote for a candidate because he belonged to
the North, and in the North they would not
vote for a candidate because he lived in a
slave State. This amounted to disunion. One
section, either the North or the South, must
have the majority. Disfranchise all on the
other side, and the Union could not hold to-
gether a single day — it ought not to hold to-
gether a day. The Whig party and some of
the Democrats believed differently in this re-
spect from Mr. Giddings. They believed
that this Union resulted from a compromise be-
tween the free and the slave States. He, (Mr.
Schenck) was in favor of the ordinance of
1787, and he had always voted with Mr. Win-
THROP in favor of it, yet he did not feel that
upon this account he must stand here and dis-
franchise every''man living in the slave States
because he differed from him on that local
question. It was not so with his colleague,
(Mr. Giddings.) Like Mr. Toombs, of Geor-
gia, he preferred that there should be no or-
ganization, and that " disorder should reign for
ever," rather than yield upon this point. He
then expressed his regret that gentlemen had
been heard to declare that they would sooner
dissolve the Union at once than suffer the pre-
sent state of things to be enforced on the
country. Mr. Shenck quoted from a speech
of Wendell Phillips, of Boston, to show that

]850.]

Congressional Summary.

209

there were parallels among the Free Soil ad-
vocates of the North for the Disunionists of
the South. Here the two extremes met. The
Whigs were the conservatives of the country,
and coming from the north and from the south,
representing every sectional interest, they ac-
ted together for the general good, for the main-
tenance of the rights and interests of the whole.
These rights and interests he was ready to
maintain here and elsewhere, wherever his
hand or his voice could do it, against these
impracticable gentleman.

Mr. Holmes, of South Carolina, said that
one thing at least was certain from the discus-
sion that was going forward — there was an
emulation among the Northern men to show
each, for himself, the utmost hostility to the
institutions of the South. In voting for the
Speakership, they had shown their sanction of
the Wilmot Proviso, and their opposition to
slavery in the District of Columbia. He was
delighted with the exhibition, because it con-
vinced many persons of the South that the
whole North were opposed to their institu-
tions, and in time would destroy them, unless
the South was aroused to maintain its rights.
He had no apprehensions of disunion, because
the lords of the loom, if gentlemen choose to
call them so, were the natural allies of the
lords of the '' lash" — the interests of the North
were identified with the labor of the slave. He
ended by saying that the Union, dear as it
was, rich in its associations, embellished with
all that could make it desirable, was nothing
when compared to the interests which were to
them life, — without which all that they owned
and which they would transmit to posterity as
a heritage, would have passed away.

The discussion was kept up for some time
longer by Messrs. Giddings, Schenck, and
YiNTON, without presenting any thing further
of general interest. The resolution of Mr.
Burt was then adopted.

STANDING COMMITTEES.

Of Elections. — Messrs. Strong of Pennsylva-
nia, Harris of Alabama, Van Dyke of New Jersey,
Disney of Ohio, Thompson of Kentucky, Harris of
Tennessee, McGaughey of Indiana, Ashe of North
Carolina, Andrews of New York.

Of Ways and Means. — Messrs. Bayley of Vir-
ginia, Thompson of Mississippi, Vinton of Ohio,
Green of Missouri, Toombs of Georgia, Hibbard of
New Hampshire, Duer of New York, Jones of
Tennessee, Hampton of Pennsylvania.

Of Claims. — Messrs. Daniel of North Carolina,
Thomas of Tennessee, Root of Ohio, Wilmot of
Pennsylvania, Nelson of New York, Hubbard of
Alabama, McLean of Kentucky, Dunham of Indi-
ana, Butler of Connecticut.

On Commerce. — Messrs. McLane of Maryland,
Wentworth of Illinois, Grinnell of Massachusetts,
Bingham of Michigan, Stephens of Georgia, Col-
cock of South Carolina, PhcEnix of New York,
Stetson of Maine, Conrad of Louisiana.

On Public Lands. — Messrs. Bowlin of Mis-
souri, Harmanson of Louisiana, Sheppard of North
Carolina, Albertson of Indiana, Baker of Illinois,
Cobb of Alabama, Brooks of New York, Hoag-
land of Ohio, Henry of Vermont.

On the Post Office and Post Roads. — Messrs.
Potter of Ohio, Phelps of Missouri, McKissock of
New York, Featherston of Mississippi, Hebard of
Vermont, Alston of Alabama, Powell of Virginia,
Stanton of Tennessee, Durkee of Wisconsin.

For the District of Columbia. — Messrs. Brown
of Mississippi, Inge of Alabama, Taylor of Ohio,
Fuller of Maine, Morton of Virginia, Hammond of
Maryland, Allen of Massachusetts, Williams of
Tennessee, Underbill of New York.

On the Judiciary. — Messrs. Thompson of Penn-
sylvania, Miller of Ohio, Ashmun of Massachu-
setts, Meade of Virginia, Morehead of Kentucky,
King of New York, Venable of North Carolina,
Stevens of Pennsylvania, Wellborn of Georgia.

On Revolutionary Claims. — Messrs. Sawtelle
of Maine, Morris of Ohio, Newell of New Jersey,
Bay of Missouri, Butler of Pennsylvania, Millson
of Virginia, Goodenow of Maine, Mc Willie of
Mississippi, Kerr of Maryland.

On Public Expenditure. — Messrs. Johnson of
Tennessee, Bissell of Illinois, Conger of New
York, Harlan of Indiana, Bowie of Maiyland,
Sweetser of Ohio, Caldwell of North Carolina,
Booth of Connecticut, Calvin of Pennsylvania.

On Private Land Claims. — Messrs. Morse of
Louisiana, Brown of Indiana, Rumsey of New
York, Gilmore of Pennsylvania, Campbell of Ohio,
Harris of Illinois, Marshall of Kentucky, Whittle-
sey of Ohio, Anderson of Tennessee.

On Manufactures. — Messrs. Peck of Vermont,
Bowdon of Alabama, Houston of Delaware, Cleve-
land of Connecticut, Breck of Kentucky, Ross of
Pennsylvania, Rose of New York, Orr oi South
Carolina, Owen of Georgia.

On Agriculture. — Messrs. Littlefield of Maine,
Deberry of North Carolina, Risley of New York,
McMullen of Virginia, Young of Illinois, Casey
of Pennsylvania, Stanton of Kentucky, Bennet of
New York, Cable of Ohio.

On Indian Affairs. — Messrs. Johnson of Ar-
kansas, Hall of Missouri, Crowell of Ohio, Mc-
Lanahan of Pennsylvania, Outlaw of North Car-
olina, Hackett of Georgia, Bokee of New York,
Howard of Texas, Sprague of Michigan.

On Military Affairs. — Messrs. Burt of South
Carolina, Richardson of lUinois, Wilson of New
Hampshire, Caldwell of Kentucky, Evans of Ma-
ryland, Carter of Ohio, J. A. King of New York,
Ewing of Tennessee, Chandler of Pennsylvania.

On the Militia. — Messrs. Peaslee of New
Hampshire, Savage of Tennessee, King of Rhode
Island, Doty of Wisconsin, Moore of Pennsylva-
nia, Briggs of New York, Robbins of Pennsylva-
nia, Thompson of Iowa, Meacham of Vermont.

On Naval Affairs. — Messrs. Stanton of Ten-
nessee, Bocock of Virginia, Schenck of Ohio, La
Sere of Louisiana, White of New York, Gerry of
Maine, Cabell of Florida, McQueen of South Car-
olina, Levin of Pennsylvania.

On Foreign Affairs. — Messrs. McClemand of
Illinois, McDowell of Virginia, Winthrop of Mas-
sachusetts, Haralson of Georgia, Hilliard of Ala-

210

Congressional Summary.

[Feb.

bama, Woodward of South Carolina, Stanly of
North Carolina, Buel of Michigan, Spalding of
New York.

On the Territories. — Messrs. Boyd of Ken-
tucky, Richardson of Illinois, Rockwell of Massa-
chusetts, Seddon of Virginia, Clingman of North
Carolina, Kaufman of Texas, Gott of New York,
Fitch of Indiana, Giddings of Ohio.

On Revolutionary Pensions. — Messrs. Waldo
of Connecticut, Beale of Virginia, Silvester of
New York, Wallace of South Carolina, Freedley
of Pennsylvania, Gorman of Indiana, Evans of
Ohio, Tuck of New Hampshire, Sackett of New
York.

On Invalid Pensions. — Messrs. Leffler of Iowa,
Olds of Ohio, Nes of Pennsylvania, Averett of Vir-
ginia, Walden of New York, Johnson of Ken-
tucky, Matteson of New York, Hamilton of Ma-
ryland, Hay of New Jersey.

On Eoads and Canals. — Messrs. Robinson of
Indiana, Mann of Pennsylvania, King of New Jer-
sey, Mason of Kentucky, Putnam of New York,
Parker of Virginia, Wood of Ohio, Gould of New
York, Howe of Pennsylvania.

On Rules. — Messrs. Kaufman of Texas, Jones
of Tennessee, Vinton of Ohio, Strong of Pennsyl-
vania, Stephens of Georgia, Phelps of Missouri,
Ashmun of Massachusetts, Littlefield of Maine,
McGaughey of Indiana.

On Patents. — Messrs. Walden of New York,
Otis of Maine, Hamilton of Maryland, Watkins
of Tennessee, Harlan of Indiana.

On Public Buildings and Grounds. — Messrs.
Bowdon of Alabama, Edmundson of Virginia,
Houston of Delaware, Young of Illinois, Rey-
nolds of New York.

On Revisal and Unfinished Business. — Messrs.
Cobb of Alabama, Ogle of Pennsylvania, Averett
of Virginia, Julien of Indiana, Jackson of New
York.

On Accounts. — Messrs. King of Massachusetts,
Mason of Kentucky, McDonald of Indiana, Clarke
of New York, Bay of Missouri.

On Mileage. — Messrs. Fitch of Indiana, Duncan
of Massachusetts, Howard of TexaSj Haymond of
Virginia, Sweetser of Ohio. ...

On Engraving. — Messrs. Hammond of Mary-
land, Dimmick of Pennsylvania, Fowler of Mas-
sachusetts.

Joint Committee on the Library of Congress. —
Messrs. Holmes of South Carolina, Mann of Mas-
sachusetts, Gilmore of Pennsylvania.

On Expenditures in the State Department. —
Messrs. Bingham of Michigan, Reed of Pennsyl-
vania, Orr of South Carolina, Alexander of New
York, Gorman of Indiana.

On Expenditures in the Treasury Department.
— Messrs. Caldwell of Kentucky, Schermerhom of
New York, Ashe of North Carolina, Dixon of
Rhode Island, Dunham of Indiana.

On Expenditures in the War Department. —
Messrs. Dimmick of Pennsylvania, Schoolcraft of
New- York, Harris of Illinois, McMullen of Vir-
ginia, Hunter of Ohio.

On Expenditures in the Navy Department. —
Messrs. Holliday of Virginia, Thurman of New-
York, Carter of Ohio, Pitman of Pennsylvania,
Harris of Tennessee.

On Expenditures in the Post Office Depart-
ment.— Messrs. Thompson of Iowa, McWillie of
Mississippi, Halloway of New-York, Robbins of
Pennsylvania, Corwin of Ohio.

On Expenditures on the Public Buildings. —
Messrs. Beale of Virginia, Cole of Wisconsin, Ross
of Pennsylvania, Burrows of New York, Hoag-
land of Ohio,

On Enrolled Bills. — Wildrick, of New-Jersey,
Dickey of Pennsylvania.

January Wth. After spending several days
in voting, the House succeeded, this day, on
the twentieth attempt, in electing Thomas J.
Campbell, of Tennessee, Clerk of that body.
Mr. Campbell was the Clerk of the last Con-
gress, and was the Whig candidate. He was
elected by the final support of a ^few South-
ern Democratic members.

On the 1 5th of January, after several days'
voting for Sergeant-at-arms, A. J. Glossbren-
NER, of Pennsylvania, a Democratic candidate,
was elected to that office.

1850.]

Domestic and Foreign Summary.

211

DOMESTIC AND FOREIGN SUMMAEY.

A letter from Detroit, published in the New
York Tribune, states, on the authority of Col.
M. Knight, that the Boston and Pittsburgh
Cliff Copper Mine will yield this year at least
750 tons of ingot copper, which at
$380 per ton will amount to $285,000

The expenses of working, at $7,000

per month, 84,000

Net profits for one year, $201,000

In addition to the shipments from this mine,
the Minesota, North West, North American,
and North Western, will amount to some two
hundred tons more. Next year the exports of
Copper, it is expected, will not be less than
2,500 tons. Within five years our copper
must go to England.

The amount of tolls received from the Pub-
lic Works of Pennsylvania, at the State Trea-
sury, from December 1, 1848, to November
30, 1849, $1,628,860 13

Amount received preceding

year, 1,550,55 03

Excess the present year, 78,305 10

This (the Harrisburg Intelligencer remarks)
is the largest receipt ot revenue from the pub-
lic works ever received in any one year, and
is an encouraging indication of their future
usefulness and worth to the State.

The New York Canals, says the Albany
£i;erjmg'Jour?2a/, notwithstanding the depress-
ed state of business during the cholera sea-
son, have done well financially. The tolls of
the present year exceed those of the past
year. The amount collected last year was
$3,245,662. This year the amount collected
is $3,259,210 30, which is an increase of $13,-
548 30.

Georgia, as regards manufactures, is the
New England of the South. She has built
with h^r own means, more railroads than any
other State in the Union, except Massachusetts.
She has already invested in them $55,000,000,
and is advancing more rapidly in her cotton
factories than any other southern State. Im-
migration is also setting into this highly flour-
ishing State very rapidly.

Alabama, it is asserted, has more manufac-
tories than any other State of her age. She
has invested twelve millions in roads, mines,
and manufactories.

Mississippi, it is said, has fifty-three cotton
factories; some of them; however, are only

on a very small scale ; but the manufacturin*"
spirit is up there among the planters, and a
manufacturing town has been commenced, and
is progressing. A very few years will see
a strong nranufacturing interest existing in
that State.— iV. 0. Pic.

At the late Fair of the Franklin Institute
inThiladelphia, the Graniteville Manufactur-
ing Company of South Carolina, received the
first premium for specimens of shirtings, sheet-
ings, and drillings.

The Mineral Lands in Arkansas — Our
readers will recollect that some time since we
called attention to the mineral lands in the
northwestern portion of the State. These lands
were for a long time reserved from sale ; but
about two years since were placed in market,
subject to entry at the minimum price of pub-
lic lands. Strange as it may appear, even
after this, these lands remained unnoticed
until very recently. Within the last few
days several individuals have visited that
locality, and secured a large amount of these
lands for themselves, and for the Arkansas
Mining Company, and also for Wallace &
Ward, two enterprising capitalists of Van Bu-
ren. We learn from the gentlemen who have
been exploring these lands, that they abound
in minerals of various kinds. On a large ex-
tent of the countr}', specimens of a fine galena
are to be seen, cropping out of the sides of
hills, and sparkling in the beds of the numer-
ous brooks ; but as many of the residents of
that region considered it of no value except
for bullets, it has never attracted much atten-
tion But a very small portion of these mine-
ral lands have, as yet, been taken up, and there
are yet fortunes in reserve in that region for any
persons disposed to secure them. These min-
eral localities are within a few miles of flat-
boat navigation on White river. — Little Rock
{Ark.) Democrat, Nov. 23.

MineralWealth of Alabama — This State
abounds in coal, iron, and marble. The coal
is mostly bitumenous. The Mobile Herald
says, that the amount raised this year on
Warrior River, will be greater than ever before.
Over two hundred flat boats have been pro-
jected, or built, to carry it to the market. A
correspondent of that paper says, most of the
coal beds hitherto found are too thin to work,
but several of them are four feet thick and
upwards. Those between three and four feet

212

Domestic and Foreign Summary.

[Feb.

are still more numerous. They are not merely-
found in numerous places, but that they are
different strata, clearly defined, lying one
above another. The far greater number are
above the level of high water, appearing in
bluffs, which overhang the channel of the
stream. The river runs on coal sometimes
bare, sometimes shielded by sand or rock, for
above one hundred miles. The greater part
of the land, in the coal region, is public pro-
perty, and may be obtained at the government
prices.

The dip of the coal is uniformly in the di-
rection of the natural drainage of the country.
All the Warrior beds, thick or thin, are so,
and therefore require nothing but ditching to
keep the mining operations free from the in-
gress of -water. This is true of those on the
North river, also, as far as has been examined.
Those on the Caha-wba river are at an angle
of 45 deg. with the horizon. They dip ob-
liquely across the drainage of the country, and
will, it IS apprehended, require great power to
keep them dry.

A correspondent of the New York Tribune,
who writes at 130 miles from Fort Laramie,
states that on the banks of the Platte river,
eighty or ninety miles west of Laramie, a coal
mine had been found, with the vein cropping
out of the bluff, one and a half to two feet in
thickness. For forty or fifty miles that the
party had travelled, after making the discov-
ery, wherever an abrupt bank appeared, the
coal stratum was perceived, embedded in soft
sand stone, sometimes as much as three feet
thick. It was much harder than bitumenous,
broke with a shining fracture, and when put
on the fire, althoughit kindled slowly, it burnt
with a bright, clear flame. The writer con-
ceives it to be like cannel coal. The quantity
is inexhaustible.

An iron steamboat is building in this city to
run on Lake Titicaca, situated on one of the
peaks of the Andes, in Peru. She is wholly
constructed of iron, with two small engines of
t3n horse-power each. It is intended that the
boat shall be transported to the summit in pie-
ces of 350 pounds weight, packed in boxes or
otherwise, on the backs of mules. Mechan-
ics will be sent from this country to put the
whole together, on reaching the place of its
demonstrations.

N. LoNGwoRTH, Esq., of Cincinnati, is now
constructing a wine cellar in that city, of great
depth and dimensions, that is designed exclu-
sively for the manufacture of sparkling wines.
For some years this gentleman has been en-
gaged in such pursuits, and has succeeded in
demonstrating that it is possible, in the climate
of America, to produce wines of a quality in no
respect inferior to the foreign wines of similar
descriptions.

The Chief Libraries of Europe. — If the
principal libraries of the several capital cities
of Europe be arranged in the order of their
respective magnitudes, they will stand as fol-
lows :

Vols.

1. Paris, (1,) National Library, 824,000

2. Munich, Royal Library, 600,000

3. Petersburgh, Imperial Library, 446,000

4. London, British Museum Library, 435,000

5. Copenhagen, Royal Library, 412,000

6. Berlin, Royal Library, 410,000

7. Vienna, Imperial Library, 313,000

8. Dresden, Royal Library, 300,000

9. Madrid, National Library, 200,000

10. Wolfenbuttel, Ducal Library, 200,000

11. Stuttgard, Royal Library, 187,000

12. Paris, (2,) Arsenal Library, 180,000

13. Milan, Brora Library, 170,000

14. Paris, (3,) St. Genevieve Library, 150,000

15. Darmstadt, Grand Ducal Library, 150,000

16. Florence, Magliabecchian Library, 150,000

17. Naples, Royal Library, 150,000

18. Brussels, Royal Library, 133,500

19. Rome, (1.) Cassanate Library, 120,000

20. Hague, Royal Library, 100,000

21. Paris, (4,) Mazarine Library, 100,000

22. Rome, (2,) Vatican Library, 100,000

23. Parma, Ducal Library, 100,000

The chief University libraries may be rank-
ed in the following order :

1. Gottingen, University Library, 360,000

2. Breslau, University Library, 250,000

3. Oxford, Bodleian Library, 220,000

4. Tubingen, University Library, 200,000

5. Munich, University Library, 200,000

6. Heidelberg, University Library, 200,000

7. Cambridge, Public Library, 166,724

8. Bologna, University Library, 150,000

9. Prague, University Library, 130,000

10. Vienna, University Library, 115,000

11. Leipsic, University Library, 112,000

12. Copenhagen, University Library, 110,000

13. Turin, University Library, 110,000

14. Louvain, University Library, 105,000

15. Dublin, Trinity College Library, 104,239

16. Upsal, University Library, 100,000

17. Erlangen, University Library, 100,000

18. Edinburgh, University Library, 90,854

Crime in England. — The British Govern-
ment, after several years' experience, has been
forced to the conclusion that imprisonment,
either solitary or accompanied with labor, has
no effect whatever either in deterring from
crime, or in reforming criminals. Statistics,
compiled with scrupulous care have also de-
monstrated that education has no perceptible
effect in checking the increase of crime.
It has been ascertained that the number of
educated criminals in England is above twice,
and in Scotland above three times and a half
that of the uneducated. In 1848 the number
of educated criminals in England and Wales
was 20,176, while the uneducated was 9,691.

1850.]

Domestic and Foreign Summary.

213

In Scotland, 3,985 educated to 911 uneduca-
ted. It has also been ascertained that the ave-
rage cost of maintaining a prisoner in jail,
throughout England, is about eighty dollars a
year, and that at this rate the prison expenses
of that country amount to over one million
pounds sterling per annum. Under this state
of facts the British Government has issued
an order in council authorizing a return to
the system of transportation. The last num-
ber of Blackwood's Magazine contains an in-
teresting article on this subject from which the
foregoing statements are complied.

The Bonham Advertiser^ published in Tex-
as, gives an account of a party numbering in
all about eighty persons, who had been out on
an exploring expedition to the Wachita moun-
tains in search of precious metals. They
found, on a high prairie ridge, silver ore of ex-
traordinary richness, in quantities " apparent-
ly inhaustible." There was also found in the
streams of the Wachita country, considerable
quantities of gold, mingled with the sands. In
consequence of the unfriendly disposition of
the Wachita Indians, they were able only to
succeed in ascertaining the general fact of the
existence of gold and silver, and to obtain as
much as would serve as specimens.

According to a late census of South Caro-
lina, the whole of the white inhabitants now
number 280,385, showing a gain in ten years
of 23,269.

Commerce of New York. — The number of
vessels which arrived at New York from for-
eign countries during the last year, was 3,227 ;
of which 1,973 were American, and 811 Brit-
ish. The number which arrived the prece-
ding year was 3,060. The number of passen-
gers last year was 221,799; in the preceding
year 191,901.

Statistics of French Literature. — It is
calculated that, from January 1st, 1840, to
August 1st, 1849, there were issued from
the press in France, 87,000 new works, vo-
lumes and pamphlets ; 3,700 reprints of ancient
literature, and French classic authors ; and
4,000 translations from modern languages —
one-third of the latter from the English, the
German and Spanish coming next in numbers,
and the Portuguese and Swedish languages
having- furnished the smallest contributions.

Nine hundred dramatic authors are named of
pieces produced on the stage, and afterwards
published ; 60 only of comedies and dramas
not acted. Among the published works are
200 on Occult Sciences, Cabalism, Chiroman-
cy, Necromancy, &c., and 75 volumes on He-
raldry and Genealogy. Social Science, Fou-
rierism. Communism, and Socialism of all
sects, count 20,000 works of all sizes; 6,000
Romances and Novels; and more than 800
works of Travel. According to a calculation,
for which the authority of M. Didot's (the
publisher) name is given, the paper employed
in the printing of all these works would more
than twice cover the surface of the 86 Depart-
ments of France.

The debts of the various countries of Eu-
rope may be classed in round millions ;
Great Britain, £860; France, 320; Hol-
land, 160 ; Russia and Poland,|110 ; Spain, 83 ;
Austria, 84 ; Prussia, 30 ; Po'rtugal, 28 ; Na-
ples, 26 ; Belgium, 25; Denmark, 11 ; Sicily,
14 : Papal dominions, 13 ; Greece, 8 ; Bava-
ria, 3 ; Frankfort, 1 ; Bremen, £600,000 ;
Hambur(?h, £1,400,000. Total, £1,785,000
000. Debts which are not enumerated £215,
000,000. Grand total, £2,000,000,000.

Import of Provisions from America.— Mr.
Gardner, the provision broker, gives the fol-
lowing as the import into Liverpool alone,
from the United States, for the last twelve
months— 26,000 tierces Beef, 37,000 barrels
Pork, 224,000 cwts. Bacon, 15,000 Hams,
50,000 barrels Lard, 100,000 boxes Cheese,
8,600 firkins Butter. The value of the above
is £1,000,000 sterling.

The number of passengers brought from
Liverpool to New York by the British mail-
steamships during the past year, according to
a New York paper, was 1,775; and the num-
ber arrived at Boston by the same conveyance,
1,433. The average passage from New York
to Liverpool was made in thirteen days and
sixteen hours, and the average passage to
Boston from Liverpool in twelve days and
twenty-two hours.

Thomas H. Fisher & Co. have erected, in
Lansingburg, New York, a manufactory for
the purpose of manufacturing linen thread. It
is the only one in the country. The machinery
was imported from Leeds, England, and ex-
perienced workmen have been employed.

214

Critical Notices.

[Feb.

CRITICAL NOTICES.

The Shakspeare Calendar; or Wit and Wis-
dom for every day in the year. Edited by
William C. Richards. New York : George
P. Putnam. 1850.^

This graceful little offering to the well-filled
shrine of the Great Bard, differs from other
" Calendars" only in this that its notices of
events are illustrated solely and invariably by
passages from Shakspeare. Some of the pas-
sages thus forced into compulsory juxtaposition
with events apparently incongruous, display
wit as well as research on the part of the Edi-
tor. For instance, the fact of thirteen whales
being driven ashore on the coast of England
on the same day is illustrated by the passage
from Henry V : —

" Send precepts to the Leviathan
To come ashore."
On other occasions, the Editor seizes an op-
portunity of indicating his opinion of noted
public characters. He commemorates the death
of Robert Walpole (March 18^ 1745.) by quot-
ing King Lear : —

'•' Get thee glass eyes ;
And like a scurvy politician, seem
To see the things thou dost not see."
Sometimes, too, he even contrives to crowd
a volume of sound Political Economy into a
single quotation, as, where after mentioning
under its proper date (March 1st, 1845) the an-
nexation of Texas, he cites the passage from
Cymbeline : —

" You lay out too much pains
For purchasing but trouble."

Exercises on Greek Composition. Adapted to
the First Book of Xenophon's Anabasis. By
James R.Boise, Professor of Greek in Brown
University. New York : Appleton& Com-
pany, 200 Broadway. Philadelphia : George
S. Appleton, 164, Chestnut Street. 1850.
Professor Boise has prepared this elegant
elementary work upon the plan of allowing
the rules of Greek Composition, gradually to
suggest themselves to the student's mind, in-
stead of crowding his memory, as is too often
the case with abstruse enunciations of princi-
ples which he must master before he can possi-
bly understand them. This comparitively easy
method he has elucidated in a plain yet skillful
manner, selecting Xenophon that most flowing
of Attic writers for his text. The execution of
the work is equal to the design, and altogether
will do credit to the high Institution which
numbers the author of this work among its
professors.

The Caravan ; a collection of popular tales,
translated from the German of Wilhelm
Hauff. By G. P. Quackenbos, A.M. Illus-
trated by J. W. Orr. New York : D. Ap-
pleton & Company. 1850.

We hail this laudable effort of a popular
writer to introduce among us a belter taste for
the better part of German Literature. Mr.
Quackenbos has executed his task in a man-
ner worthy of himself, and the illustrations are
creditable to the artist by whom they are
signed. The translator could not have made
a more judicious selection both as regards the
tales he has comprised in this collection and
the author from whom he draws them.

Wilhelm Hauff is the most popular of Ger-
man tale writers. He is a native of Stuttgard,
where, in his earlier years, he studied Theol-
ogy. Strange, that at the source of ever-living
truth, he should have contracted so insatiable
an appetite for fiction. His first appearance
as an author was in 1826, when he published
his Fairy Almanac for that year. The tales
included in that series are for the most part
borrowed from other sources, but the fantastic
yet natural manner in which they are told by
him atones for their want of originality. Em-
boldened by his success, he published in the
following year, two different works of consid-
erable consequence, " The man in the moon,"
a playful satire or rather caricature, directed
against the sentimental style of novel- writing
of the day, and Extracts from the memoirs of
Satan which may have furnished something
besides a title to the work of Frederick Soulie,
called " les Memoires du Diable." Since that
time he has continued an indefatigable author,
and may be considered as one of the most'pro-
lific as well as popular of the modern writers.

We would express a hope that Mr. Quack-
enbos will soon favor the English and Amer-
ican public with other gems from the same
mine.

Success in Life ; a series of Books, six in num-
ber, each complete in itself. By Mrs. L.
C. TuTHiLL. New York : George P. Put-
nam. 1850.

The series of Books of which the first num-
ber lies upon our table, will doubtless add to
its author's already enviable reputation. She
purposes to address her pleasing didactics in
turns to the Merchant, the Lawyer, the Me-
chanic, the Artist, the Physician and the Far-
mer. She doubtless had her own reasons,

1850.]

Critical Notices.

215

better known toherself;, for beginning with the
Merchant. The book now before us is the
first in order in the series and purports to teach
the means of success in a commercial career.
The authors characteristic knowledge of Amer-
ican history, and her acquaintance with the
leading events in the lives of the successful
merchants of America, furnish her with mani-
fold opportunities of enlivening her text with
anecdote and incident.

So far the series of Mrs. Tuthill's Lectures
on Success bodes well. When we become a
merchant we will turn to these agreeable pages
for our first lessons in the art of thrift. Yet
we are somewhat curious to know how she
will manage that part of her subject which re-
fers to lawyers. Success in that profession is
scarcely attainable by any of the means which
Mrs. Tuthill is likely to advocate. And, even
the straight-forward path which we presume
she will point out, is beset with thorns and
precipices of which the fair authoress can en-
tertain but an inadequate idea. Supposing,
however, that her talent will surmount those
obstacles, and that her accurate knowledge of
the public men of America will furnish us with
sketches of such men as Hamilton, Jay and
Ogden in the same pleasing manner as she
has in the book before us painted Astor, Gir-
ard and Morris. — Supposing all this, our
anxiety on her behalf, is but removed one
step. How will she contrive to point out suc-
cess in the physician's career without mention-
ing that the surest avenues to the desirable
end are of a character which neither her sex,
her reputation, nor her good sense will per-
mit her to advocate ?

At all events we shall await the future num-
bers of her series with as much impatience as
we have taken pleasure in perusing the first.

The other Side ; or Notes for the History of the
War between Mexico and the United States,
written in Mexico. Translated from the
Spanish, and edited with notes, by Albert
C.Ramsay, Colonel of the 11th United States
Infantry during the War with Mexico. New
York : Jno. Wiley.

To those who know the intense bitterness of
party spirit that prevails in Mexico, it must ap-
pear almost impossible that an account having
any pretensions to impartiality should be
given of any contemporary fact by a citizen
of that country. The difficulty is obviously
increased when the fact to be related involves
not only the usual dissensions of faction but
also the humiliation of the author's native land
during a long contest, where scarcely one in-

stance of prowess or patriotism occurs to re-
deem the national character from the disgrace
of constant defeat. We believe that few Mex-
icans would have possessed the hardihood,
single handed to produce a work so singularly
free in pointing out the true causes of their
country's misfortune as the one we are now
noticing. For is it not the result of individual
enterprise. It seems that it grew out of the de-
bates of a literary society composed of men of
different partieswho had assembled atQueretaro
for the purpose of discussing topics of general
interest. Fifteen editors have appended their
names to this work. As far as we are able
(for causes presently to be mentioned) to judge
of the style of the original it does credit to the
authors as men of taste and refined_!^acquire-
ments. The several parts are arranged in a
lucid manner, the action is rapid, the descrip-
tions are vivid and animated, ajid the numer-
ous plans, maps, and portraits, if these belong
to the Mexican work and not merely to its Ame-
rican version, attest the care and liberal enter-
prize which presided over the publication. Not
to speak of its value in another point of view,
it will prove useful as well as curious to the
general reader in this that it will point out with
sad clearness the true causes of the ignomini-
ous fall of the Mexican Republic in her con-
test with us. We see leaders promoted
through favoritism and wholly incompetent for
their position. We see several generals com-
manding one corps and unable to agree. We
behold Arista seated in his tent and insisting
that the battle of Resaca de Guerrero was a
mere skirmish, until he saw his disbanded sol-
diers seeking safety in the waves of the Rio
Grande. We hear of Paredes negotiating a loan
of $1,000,000 from the church to meet the pres-
sing exigencies of the state, assembling a
last army in haste, and then we find the offi-
cers of that very army, immediately after re-
ceiving an instalment of their pay out of that
same fund, rush to the citadel and improvise
a revolution. In the ranks, in the cities, in the
legislative assemblies, we meet with nothing
but want of mutual confidence and hot indi-
vidual ambition that pauses at nothing for its
own gratification. In regard to Colonel Ram-
say's share of the work, we are compelled to
say, that he ought to have prepared himself
for his task by the study of the difficult art of
Translation. The first part of the work
especially is lamentably deficient in point of
diction. Castilian idioms are given literally,
and either present no sense to one who is not
a Spanish scholar, or else give the narrative
a ludicrous air of incongruity. We scarcely
know how to account for this anomaly, for
in the notes which the American Editor signs
in propria persona, the style is remarkably
pure and flowing.

216

Critical Notices.

[Feb.

The Battle Summer : being personal observations
in Paris, during the year 1848. By Ik. Marvel,
Author of " Fresh Gleanings." New York :
Baker and Scribner. 1850.

An almost quaint and curious book, this : yet
we must say, notwithstanding, that it is a most
vivid portrayal of the events and characters of the
last French Revolution. Nor is it alone a re-
markable exhibition of skill in the painting of pic-
tures and portraits ; but it shows also a hand,
presided over by a philosophical and candid intel-
lect. Motives and characters of individuals and
classes are presented with a certain clearness and
force, deserving of great admiration. So well are
these two qualities combined that, after reading
the book, we seem to have been a witness of the
astonishing drama, with a companion, whose com-
mentary on the performers and performances, was
worth listening to, piquant, and, at the same time,
thoughtful. In the next place, the book is entirely
fi-ee from tedious disquisition, or elaborate descrip-
• tion ; everything is condensed, and to the point.
In one short chapter we have the best account of
that remarkable phenomenon, — the Paris Press, —
that we have anywhere seen. For the rest, the
style is somewhat Carlylean, and this must bo
somewhat a disappointment to those acquainted
with the author's previous works, which have been
so remarkable for their beauty, in this respect. It
is, however, more, perhaps, in the manner than
the style of Carlyle ; for there is none of his
involution of sentences, or uncouthness of philo-
sophy.

The author's object, in employing this manner,
was, doubtless, to give boldness of graphic effect,
and condensation of views ; as well as to re-pre-
sent a subject somewhat hackneyed, and we do
not know that he could have accomplished these
purposes in any better way. It is a book, in short,
of decided raciness and pith ; and we like it. A
word in conclusion, we must say, for the beautiful
style in which it is printed.

Hepresentative Men : seven Lectures. By Ralph
Waldo Emerson. Boston ; Philips, Samp-
son, & Company.

In the space of a short notice it is impossible to
present any sufficient view of a new book, by Mr.
Emerson. All his writings involve questions the
profoundest. We must record great genius and
originality, with power of expression, and beauty of
illustration, enchanting as the voice of the syren ; but
we would have to discuss with him first principles.
From his cloud-land, we would have to appeal
to our mother earth. The book before us is some-
what vague in its pui-pose ; the usual fault of the
author. We have not space to define what we
mean by vagueness in this case ; but, we think, the
generality of readers will be with us in the asser-
tion. After, in the first lecture, discussing, vaguely
enough, the uses of great men, the others are de-
voted to Plato the Philosopher, Swcdenborg the
Mystic, Montaigne the Skeptic, Shakespeare the
Poet, Napoleon the Man of the World, and

Goethe the Writer. These he seems to take as
representatives of varieties of the human mind,
displaying itself in its greatest activities. There is
no writer that is more profound in analyses, or
clear in critical deductions, or philosophic in gen-
eralization, than Mr. Emerson, out of his
peculiar mood, and this book is full of passages
of great power and beauty in these respects.

There is in this book too, a remarkable simpli-
city, directness, and force of language.

" Socrates and Plato are the double stars that
the moJt powerful mstruments will not entirely
separate. * * Socrates, a man of humble
stem, but honest enough ; of the commonest his-
tory ; of a personal homeliness, so remarkable as
to be a cause of wit — the rather, as his broad
good nature, and exquisite taste for a joke, invited
the sally, which was sure to be paid. The players
personated him on the stage ; the potters carved
his ugly face on their stone jugs. He was a cool
fellow, adding to his humor a perfect temper, and
a knowledge of his man, be he who he might,
whom he talked with, which laid the companion
open to certain defeat, in any debate ; and in de-
bate he immoderately delighted. The young men
are prodigiously fond of him, and invite him to
their feasts, whither he goes for conversation. He
can drink too ; has the strongest head in Athens ;
and, after leaving the whole party under the table,
goes away, as if nothing had happened, to begin
new dialogues with somebody that is sober. In
short, he was, what our country people call an
old one." This, by way of specimen. The whole
description of Socrates is a most perfect synopsis
of the character, as given by Plato.

The Miscellaneous works of the Eev. J. T.
Headley, with a biographical sketch and por-
trait of the Author. New-York : James
Taylor.

There are few men who, having made Litera-
ture a pursuit for several years, have not their
portfolios full of essays, sketches, notes of travels,
and magazine articles. These will naturally ac-
cumulate upon an author's hands, and it is but
fair that he should be allowed to take advantage
of the celebrity he has earned by other and more
serious labors, to publish those desultory papers in a
connected form. This appears to be the case with
the work, whose title heads this notice. The
pieces contained in the collection are on various
subjects, and embrace the staple topics of works of
this kind — impressions derived from voyages,
essays upon the productions of other writers, an
occasional historical sketch, and a metaphysical
disquishion, or two. Their merit is occasional and
fitful. They present Mr. Headley's habitual char-
acteristics, a plentiful flow of words, a fondness for
rhetoric, and a straining for eflect, which some-
times attains eloquence, and, not unfrequently, falls
as far from the mark, as Bathos differs from
Pathos. But, surely, there is nothing so exalted
in the merit of thismedley of articles, as to warrant
its being introduced by a flourish of trumpets.

1850.]

Critical Notices.

217

And, indeed, we feel disposed upon our own re-
sponsibility to exonerate Mr. Headley from the
charge of having even sanctioned so entire a breach
of good taste. We feel certain that he will feel
inclined to bestow but small thanks upon the per-
son whose injudicious, though friendly criticism,
compels us to notice somewhat at large a work of
this character.

Until a late period, Mr. Headley was generally
reputed as a writer who had drawn his inspirations
from the German school, either directly or through
its British unitators ,and whose name had obtained
a sort of chiaro ohscuro celebrity, by some few
ephemeral, but creditable papers. One day, how-
ever, whether under the inspiration of Minerva or
Plutus does not appear, he conceived a marketable
idea, — the idea of a literary speculation, — sans
parallel in the annals of American authorship,
since the fiimous account of Herschell's discoveries
in the Moon. The idea consisted in drawing,
from readily accessible materials, a series of por-
traits of the great warriors who flourished at the
beginning of the present century. The subject was
well chosen ; the interest which attaches to their ca-
reer, the brilliant events through which they passed,
the rapidity of their progress, and the epic scale of
their exploits, furnished a fitting theme for the exer-
cise of the most fervid eloquence. And if the au-
thor, more anxious for his reputation than for the sale
of his book, had taken counsel from a sober love
of Fame, and had adhered to the strict truth of
history, he might have added one to the many
really great American works, which are fast
growing, to constitute a literature for the country.
But this was no part of Mr. Headley's project.
The sale, not the worth of the book, was his aim.
Wherefore, he dressed his heroes in theatrical tin-
sel and adopted, for his style, the standard of that
which draws down mighty applause from the well-
filled benches of the Bowery. The result was,
" a hit." Napoleon and his Marshals sold well.
We do not know that Mr. Headley is to blame
in all this ; a man has as good a right to pre-
fer money to unsubstantial Fame, as the reverse.
But we again insist that there is nothing in the
fact of his having acquired a little notoriety by
such means, to superinduce the necessity of a
pompous eulogy being prefixed to a collection of
his waste paper.

We are told, by his biographer, that " Mr.
Headley is one of the most promising of the
youthful (35 years old, last December) writers of
this country." Of one of his earlier works we are
informed that " it possesses the unfatiguing charms
of perfect simplicity and truth, — it exhibits a
thousand lively traits, of an ingenuous nature,
which, lormed in a sincere and unsophisticated
society, and then brought into the midst of the old
world, retains all its freshness and distinctness."
Also, that " the style is natural, familiar, and
idiomatic." We freely confess that we have never
read the Letters from Italy ; but, from what we
have read of Mr. Headley, we had deemed it im-
possible that he should ever have written anything
either simply, or naturally, or familiarly. We had
always considered bombast ( probably the same
quality which the " biographer" points out as " the

excess of youthful genius") to be a particular char-
acteristic of liis style. We cannot state whether
or not " the society" where he formed " his nature"
was " sincere and unsophisticated ;" but, sure we
are, that his printed works show a breadth of
bigotry, and obstinacy of prejudice, as blameable
as anything he blames so harshly in Italy or
France. His Anglo-Saxon predilections even
carry him so far as to make hmi abuse the French
language, in a style without parallel out of the
columns of Punch. Hear him, he is speaking of
Guizot: " With a Saxon soul, he is forced to bend
it to the wordy language of his native country. I
have always thought it would appear strange to
hear such men as Ney, Soult, McDonald, and
Bonaparte talk French."

Why is it strange that the military leaders
should talk the language of mathematics and
treaties, the language of Pascal, Lavoisier and
Descartes ? Surely, if there be anything more
blmd than ignorance, it is prejudice. French may
be too precise a language to admit of the imagi-
native flights of empty rhetoric, which Mr. Headley
afl«cts. But, sure we are, that French taste would
never permit the use of sentences like the follow-
ing, copied from " Persecutions of the Waldenses,"
one of the articles of the work under notice.

" With one wild and thrilling shout that little
band precipitated itself forward. Through the
devouring fire, over the rattling, groaning bridge,
up to the entrenchments, and up to the points of
the bayonets, they went in one resistless wave.
Their deafening shouts drowned the roar of mus-
ketry, and, borne up by that lofty enthusiasm,
which has made the hero m every age, they forgot
the danger before them. On the solid ranks they
fell, with such terror and suddenness, that they
had not time to flee. The enraged Waldenses
seized them by the hair, and trampled thevi under
their feet ; and, with their heavy sabres, cleaved
them to the earth. The terrified French under-
took to defend themselves, with their muskets,
and, as they interposed them between their bodies
and the foe, the Waldensian sabres struck fire on
the barrels, till the sparks flew in every direc-
tion."

Oh ! most promising of the youthful writers of
this country ! Tf t

E. L.

Bark Scenes of History. By G. P. R. James,
Esq. New- York: Harper & Brothers.

Since the times of the " Great Unknown" his
imitators have inundated our shelves with their
productions. The Historical Novel offers such
temptations, it is so easy to ransack an old chron-
icle, for obscure proper names, and borrow a lit-
tle local color from contemporary writers, that
almost every tyro in literature has chosen this
style for his debut. Little, however, did they
trouble themselves to imitate their great model,
by deeply studying their task beforehand, by learn-
ing thoroughly the manners, modes of speech, and
various peculiarities of the far-distanl time to which

218

Critical Notices.

[Feb.

they referred their actors. They did not wait be-
fore commencing their work, until they had
become, as it were, cotemporaries of their actors ;
a love intrigue for a plot, a few hints from the
most accessible sources, and a little reading in
some author of the period to be illustrated, are
deemed sufficient preparation for launching into a
historical novel. Whence it follows that the
works of that school differ from each other in
little else than the different proportions of truth
and fiction in the mixture.

Of this system it is a melancholy consequence
that many of our ingenious youth study from such
productions, the little of the world's chronicle that
they condescend to acquire, until it is impossible
to persuade them that the clerical Avenel and his
chivalrous nephew were not personages quite as
seriously engaged in the affairs of their time, as
Mary Stuart and Elizabeth ; or that Quentin
Durward was not as mighty a man as Louis XL

Mr. James, than whom no literary sinner has
more trespass, of the kind alluded to, to atone for,
now offers to do some light penance for past trans-
gressions,— or transgressions against the past, — by
mixing his compound on a principle absolutely
novel and un-novel like, viz. : a homseopathic
dose of fiction to a large quantity of truth. In
other words, he takes real events, of a strdiing
character, and adds, of his own invention, only
what is necessary to give them a dramatic effect.

It might occur to some malicious critic that the
" Dark Scenes," now before us, are only a bundle
of novels, in embryo ; every one of which threat-
ened the poor public with an octavo, at least, if
Mr. James had had the leisure, or the inclination,
to dilute them. Indeed, they do bear somewhat
the appearance of sketches intended for future
"filling up," cartoons of romances, or discarded
materials, of past labors, hastily bound together
into a book. But, whatever be the secret history
of the " Dark Scenes," we, for our own part, vastly
prefer them, in their present shape, and do heartily
recommend them as harmless, and rather instruct-
ive reading. ' '

The Gallery of Illustrious Americans.

The first number of a very elegant work, with
this title, has been shown us by the editor, C. E.
Lester. It contains a magnificent engraving ol
General Taylor ; the best we have seen, without
any exception or reservation. It is executed
(lithographed !) by D' Avignon, perhaps the best
living artist, in this line, who has given lithography
an effect almost equal to the mezzo-tints etchings
of Cozzens. The daguerreotypes for the work are
by Brady. Twenty-four numbers, semi-monthly,
will complete the work. A portrait of Henry
Clay, and another of Daniel Webster, will succeed
this one of President Taylor.

The work is of the largest size, and the letter-
press the finest, perhaps, that has ever come from
a New-York press.

Three centuries ago, the fame of a good printer
was as wide as the civilized world ; in these days
of cheap reading and cheap writing, the art of
printing is slighted, as something merely mechan-
ical. And yet what an elegant piece of taste and
ingenuity is an elegantly prmted — how delight-

ful to the eye — a pure, solid page, with type, archi-
tecturally proportioned, cut by a true artist,
and printed smoothly, and of a raven black !

The work before us has all these excellencies.
Taken altogether, it is perhaps, artistically, the
best possible. Its purpose, as it has been explain-
ed to us, is to group together, into a gallery,
twenty-four heads of the most eminent citizens of
America, who have flourished since the death of
Washington : each portrait to be accompanied
with a suitable brief biography.

The numbers are sold separately for $1 each,
the entire subscription being but $20, payable
quarterly, in advance. The whole is on fine
drawing paper, enclosed ui tinted covers, and en-
veloped in a fine, buff-colored portfolio case, instead
of a common wrapper.

On the cover of the present, or possibly the suc-
ceeding number of this journal, the reader will find
a prospectus of the work. It is certainly the best
thing of the kind.

Any of our friends or subscribers who wish to
procure a specimen number of the work can have
it forwarded to them by enclosing Jive dollars,
with the order to this office, and directions for its
sale transmission.

— Fublishers of the Amer. Review.

The work is peculiarly worthy of Whig patron-
age, as it will embrace the portraits of the most
illustrious men of that party. [Ed.]

Saroni's Musical Times.

We are given to understand that the editor of
this valuable and singularly successful musical
journal, has lately united himself in a joint editor
and proprietorship with Eugene Lies, Esq., known
by his poetical and critical labors, to the readers of
the Democratic Review. Mr. Lies' excellent
taste and scholarship, will, doubtless, add greatly
to the value of the Musical Times. His attention
will be given solely to the literary department of
that paper.

Family Pictures from the Bible.. By Mrs.
Ellet, author of the Women of the American
Revolution. New-York: G. P. Putnam, 115
Broadway.

The plan of this gifted author, in preparing the
work we are now noticing, seems to have been not
so much to paraphrase the Bible, as to call her
reader's attention to the beauties, artistically speak-
ing, of the Holy Scriptures. Her groups are well
chosen, and several of the papers in her collection,
have been contributed by eminent divines, such aa
Dr. Bethune, Dr. Hutton, Rev. S. D. Burchard,
and others. These papers are every way worthy
of the names by which they are signed. As for
the part which Mrs. Ellet has reserved for herself,
we would observe that she usually displays un-
common tact, in pointing out the picturesquenesa
and dramatic effect of the events she illustrates.
Artists in want of a subject may consult her pages,
with manifest advantage, and the general reader
will derive from her book entertainment and in-
struction at the same time.

MK^^- jdY l:^i

^, ^w^^^^-fc^

V.S. R EPSlE G ENTA 1 '.

■:.: .jKurgia .

Kriq . Cor t}Le ArfLeric.zn- Rev

THE

AMERICAN REVIEW,

No. XXVII.

FOR MARCH, 1850

POLICY OF THE NATION IN REGARD TO SLAVERY AND
ITS EXTENSION.

PRESIDENT Taylor's special message on the territories.*

MR. clay's resolutions AND SPEECH. j"

We approach tli9 subject before us with
feelings of unfeignod anxiety ; it is not our
intention to discuss it at large, or to weary
the reader by repeating what has been alrea-
dy said, or demonstrating in new forms of
argument what is already established. We
do not feel called upon to show, that the
general government must not interfere
with the St-ate sovereignties, nor directly or
indirectly attempt any modification of their
institutions ; nor do we feel obliged to enter
again upon a d3monstration of the full pow-
ers of the central government over the ter-
ritories of the nation. We look at these
thinrjs as established, and we are willing
that those who diifer with us in regard to
them, should continue to differ ; awaiting
for them, on our part, the slow but cer-
tain triumph of reason and common sense.
The seed of truth has been sown ; nature
and time will cause it to grow and to pre-
vail.

What we now offer to our readers is an
enquiry into the relative merits of three
distinct lines of policy which have been
proposed to be followed by the nation in
the treatment of slavery and its extension.
The enquiry is at present the most im-

portant that can be entered upon ; it
must be impartial, and purely deliberative ;
from a point of view at once humane and
prudent, but from which the interest of the
nation as a whole shall be seen as para-
mount to that of any one of its members ; —
a point of view which needs no apology on
his part who assumes it, and which, if cor-
rectly taken, with a sufficient knowledge of
facts and a proper determination to abide
by the great laws of nature and necessity,
must lead to a conclusion, final, salutary,
and that defies exception.

The first of these lines of policy is that
which has been advocated, and is strongly
urged, by the majority of Northern legis-
lators, namely the suppression and preven-
tion of slavery in all territories of the Uni-
ted States, by an act of the central govern-
ment. We propose to discuss the expedi-
ency of such a measure ; not its constitu-
tionality ; since we have already claimed
for the national government a full and ab-
solute sovereignty over the territories of
the nation. We have used the word " ex-
pediency" as of large import, and having a
moral, as well as a prudential significance
and value.

*Natioiial Intelligencer, Jan. 22d, 1850.

•{•National Intelligencer. Also, Congressional Summary of this number.

VOL. V. NO. III. NEW SERIES. 15

See page Zif

220 Policy of the Nation — Slavery and its Extension. [March,

The experience of every moral being
will have taught liini that there are situa-
tions in life from which the line of abstract
justice, in its narrow and restricted sense,
cannot be pursued. There are virtues in
conduct, which, under the names of mer-
cy, generosity, forbearance, and long suf-
ferino-, are claimed to be among the high-
est attributes of humanity, revealing traits
of divinity in man, and obtaining for him
a respect which is denied to the merely
just and retributive. A measure may
be constitutional, but it may be ill-timed
or inhumane : it may be constitutional,
and yet smack of arbitrary power, — of
oppression : it may, like the Wilmot
Proviso, carry with it a sentiment of dis-
respect towards the minority ; seeming to
impugn the motives and discredit the
intentions of great numbers — numbers
forming a third part of the entire moral
and intellectual force of the nation. It
may be impolitic, as creating formidable
dangers for the Commonwealth ; enemies,
plotters for disunion, conspirators, upon
whom the law has no grasp, and against
■which the nation cannot defend itself.
Such a measure, it seems to us, would be
a legislative act passed in Congress by a
mere majority, at the present moment,
abolishing slavery, if it exists, and forbid-
ding it if it does not exist, in every por-
tion of the national territory. We hold
to, and have steadily defended, the consti-
tutionality of such a measure, and under
other circumstances, we should advocate its
immediate adoption : our first objection to
it is its impolicy.

Measures are impolitic when they de-
feat the end for which they are adopted.
They may be just and lawful in themselves,
but fatal in their consequences.

They are impolitic, when their adoption
at the present time will ensure their rever-
sal and hopeless defeat at a future time.
They are impolitic when, notwithstanding
their intrinsic justice, appearances are
against them. If, for example, appear-
ances are such against the measure called
the Wilmot Proviso, that it is regarded by
those against whom it is directed, as an
insult, or as a stroke for power, or a
•neasure not calculated for itself, but for
^rtain results not foreseen by the public
g<^erally and serving factious ends, it
WOM be impolitic to pursue it. Even

though a bare majority might establish it,
or something resembling it, if its passage
by such a feeble power served only to rally
its adversaries to crush it with a second
effort, the measure would have been im-
politic : it involves too much to be trusted
on a bare majority.

Those who desire, not for factious ends
nor from any passion of revolution stimu-
lated by vain theories, to witness the final
extinction of slavery within the Union — to
witness the extinction of an evil by the
substitution of a good — the extinction of
slavery by the only possible humane and
equitable method, rendering justice alike
to the slave and his master, — the method
of amelioration — would do well to consider
whether violent attacks upon that institu-
tion, are not more likely to prolong its ex-
istence than to effect their own truly hu-
mane purpose: Such attacks are impolitic.

It matters not whether an offensive ag-
gression be direct or oblique ; whether it
be couched in courteous or opprobrious
language ; whether it be a measure at-
tached to a bill, or the bill itself; whether
it be a block thrown before the wheels, or
a clog attached behind them : if its mo-
tive be insult and aggression, that motive
will be penetrated by those against whom
it is directed, and the insult will be the
more bitterly felt as it is more ingeniously
contrived.

Let Northern constituents, before they
' ' instruct their Senators or advise their Rep-
resentatives" to adopt the measure that is
so offensive to the South, consider how
that measure originated : it was adopted
under the supposition that the war with
Mexico oi-iginatcd in a secret and unavow-
ed intention of the South to extend the
area of slavery. The majority of South-
ern Senators and Representatives disavow-
ed that intention : a proviso was brought
forward which gave them the lie direct :
which said to them, 'if you insist upon the
acquisition of territory it shall not at least
be slave territory.'

The South openly disavowed this inten-
tion : a proviso was brought forward, as a
public act, founded upon the supposition Hiat
the majority of the South had been guilty
of a falsehood. We have said, the majority.
A few there were, certainly, among South-
ern Representatives, who intimated such
intentions as those against which the Pro-

1850.] Policy of the Nation — Slavery and its Extension 221

viso was directed, but they were a minor-
ity ; they were few iu nu\uber ; individu-
ally of little weight ; and we do not remem-
ber that their intentions were openly ex-
pressed in the councils of the nation. It
was, then, against the unavowed intentions
of the entire South that the Proviso was
directed ; it was an aggravation, and no-
thing more : had it passed, as a political
measure it was worthless and ineffectual.

To understand its merit and effect as a
law, we have first to observe, that it is a
fact that slavery had been abolished in all
the territories of the JN'Iesican Republic
long previous to the cession of any part of
those territories to the United States. It
is unnecessary to enter here upon any his-
torical examination of the proceedings of
the Mexican Government for the effectual
abolition of slavery in its territories. We
are not to enquire whether slavery, de facto^
existed in defiance of the laws of Mexico,
in any part of that Republic. If such
slavery did exist, it was unlawful ; a local
evil, and not to be taken into the account
after the cession of any portion of Mexico
to the United States. /

The Proviso was directed (it follows of
necessity) against the possibility of the es-
tablishment, by Act of Congress, of slavery
in territories where it did not exist, — in
territories ceded by a Republic which had
finally abolished that institution. The Pro-
viso rested upon the supposition that it was
a competent act for the general government
of the Union to re-establish slavery in a
region in which it had been abolished by
the laws of another country ; and, upon
the supposition that Congress might, nay,
probably would, perpetrate such a mischief.
Had the Proviso become a law it would
have been ineffectual. If the succeeding
Congress had been determined, as the movers
of the Proviso imagined they might be, up-
on establishing slavery in any part of the
territories, it would have been as easy
to rescind the Proviso as to do the
thing so much feared. Would such a Con-
gress have allowed itself to be shackled by
such a Proviso .-' Would not the South then
have argued for, as they have now against,
the full sovereignty of the nation over its
territory ? Nay, would not they have claim-
ed that this Proviso was an attempt to de-
feat the just and necessary legislation of
succeeding ages .' Would they not have

argued that it was no law, but tlie effort
of a feeble majority to establish a funda-
mental law } — the effort of the majority
of two or three to establish a principle
of legislation for all future times } Would
it not be easy for a Congress, roused by
such considerations, to rescind the Pro-
viso i

Money was to have been appropriated
for the addition of new territories to the
Union, on the condition that, in the
event of acquiring such territories, slavery
should not be permitted or established
upon them. Should not be established by
whom .? — by the general government .''
But in case the majority of the succeeding
year chose to disregard the Proviso, before
whom lies the appeal } The Proviso was
not to be a clause in the Constitution, but
an act of a mere majority, reversible by a
succeeding majority ; it was the mere ma-
jority of one year attempting to control the
majority of the next ; it was, therefore, in
this sense, an impolitic measure, — as its
very enactment would have weakened the
cause it was intended to support, and would
have drawn on the party of the South to
attempt a direct legislation in favor of the
establishment of slavery in the territories.
It was the evident supposition of the Pro-
viso that such an attempt would be made,
and the supposition that it would be made
couched in the form of law, would have
ensured its being made.

It was a sullen spirit of opposition, a sus-
picious and a sullen spirit which dictated
the form of the Proviso — a childish pluck-
ing at the skirts of one who has irresistibly
moved by us. It implied, indeed, had it
passed, a full confidence in the right of Con-
gress to legislate for the territories, but its
movers did not rely upon the direct exer-
tion of that right ; it expressed in them a
fear that when the territory was acquired,
it would not be iu their poioer to prevent
the extension of slavery upon it ; it was a
confession of weakness. If we are resolved
that no part of the new territories shall be
given up to the South, and deem it not only
constitutional, but politic, to wrest them
away — if we hold the consequences of such
a measure in light estimation, let us legis-
late effectually. If you can obtain a nia-
jority for a Proviso attached to a bill, you
can obtain a majority for an entire bill.
We say, then, bury the Proviso out of sight,

222 Policij of the Nation — Slavery and its Extension. [March,

with all tlie odium and unpopularity at-
tached to it ; never speak of it again ; what
you have to do, do openly, directly and
manfully, and clutch no more at the tail of
the lion, but sicze him by the jaws.

But it is not with the Proviso that we
are at present occupied, it is with all and
every species of legislation for the preven-
tion of slavery in the territories of the
Union. It is against the policy, not against
the abstract justice or constitutionality of
such measures that we are arguing.

Deprecating, as we do, every measure
which will tend toward the establishment
of slavery on the territories, and holding
such extension among the greatest evils to
be combatted,we are still averse to the em-
ployment of the direct constitutional power
of the government for its suppression.

We now invite the reader's attention to
a brief view of the lines of policy severally
indicated by President Taylor in his Mes-
sage of the 21st of January, and in the sub-
sequent resolutions offered by Mr Clay,
touching upon the various topics in agita-
tion between the South and the North.

The policy of both is pacific and con-
ciliatory. Neither the President nor Mr.
Clay concede anything to the passions of
either party, but rather demand of each
important concessions, both to the necessi-
ties of the times and to the higher interests
of the nation as a whole.

Seriously alarmed at the prospect of a
long continued contest between the North
and the South for the possession of Cali-
fornia and New Mexico, the President was
not slow in urging upon the people of that
territory the only course which promised
peace and security to the Union. The
Hon. Thomas Butler King,Bearer of Des-
patches to California, was instructed by the
President to advise the people of that ter-
ritory to -make an early application for ad-
mission into the Union. He " did not hes-
itate to express to them his desire" that
each Territory should form a plan of a
State Constitution, and submit the same
to Congress, with a prayer for admission as
a State. Under the Constitution, every
State is the founder and regulater of its own
municipal laws and domestic institutions.
" The subjects thus left exclusively to the
States were not designed or expected,"
says the President, " to become topics of
national agitation." "Still, as, under

the Constitution, Congress has power to
make all needful rules and regulations re-
specting the Territories," " every new
acquisition of Territory has led to discus-
sions," whether slavery should not be pro-
hibited in the new Territories. " The
periods of excitement from this cause,
which have heretofore occurred, have been
safely passed, but during the interval, of
whatever length, which may elapse before
the admission of the Territories ceded by
Mexico as States, it appears probable that
similar excitement will prevail to an undue
extent." The President thereupon ear-
nestly recommends the admission of Califor-
nia, as soon as may be consistent with pro-
priety.

The policy of the President in the treat-
ment of the claims of Texas to the terri-
tory of New Mexico, differs not in pur-
pose or in principle from that offered by
1\'Ir. Clay. He proposes that the territory
shall be left in statu quo^ defended by
the general government from the inva-
sion and inroad of its barbarous neighbors,
and suffered to form itself as rapidly as
possible into a State, which shall then make
application for admission into the Union.
After the admission of New Mexico as
a State, the boundary dispute between
herself and Texas can be brought be-
fore the Supreme Court of the United
vStates and adjusted by the principles of the
laws of nations.

As it is impossible to improve upon the
style of this admirable Message, or to con-
dense its statements, nothing but want of
space has prevented our quoting it entire.

" Any attempt," say the President, " to
deny to the people of the State the right of
self-government, in a matter which pecu-
liarly affects themselves, will infallibly be
regarded by them as an invasion of their
rights ; and, upon the principles laid down
in our own Declaration of Independence,
they will certainly be sustained by the great
mass of the American jDcople. To assert
that they are a conquered people, and
must, as a State, submit to the will of their
conquerors, in this regard, will meet with
no cordial response among American free-
men. Great numbers of them are native
citizens of the United States, not inferior
to the rest of our countrymen in intelli-
gence and patriotism ; and no language of
menace to restrain them in the exercise of

1850.] Policy of the Nation — Slavenj and its Extension. 223

an undoubted right, substantially guaran-
tied to them by the treaty of cession itself,
shall ever be uttered by me, or encouraged
and sustained by persons acting under my
authority. It is to be expected that, in
the residue of the territory ceded to us by
Mexico, the people residing there will, at
the time of their incorporation into the
Union as a State, settle all questions of
domestic policy to suit themselves."

It is understood, that the State of Texas
has no remedy against any decision that
may be made against its claim to the
territory of New Mexico by the general
government. The question is one over
which the Supreme Court has no jurisdic-
tion ; the previous decision of Congress be-
ing necessarily a law to them.

In regard to the admission of California,
Mr. Clay is explicit. He holds the same
opinion and offjrs the same line of policy
with that adopted by the President.

For our own part, we confess to have
been more astonished, and to have had our
confidence more deeply shaken, by South-
ern opposition to the admission of the new
sovereignty, than by any previous action
of the extreme Southern party.

It is understood that in California, out
of 15,000 votes or thereabouts, some 800
or 1000, only, were opposed to a State Con-
stitution adverse to slavery. Such a vote
is equivalent to unanimity ; it is the voice
of an entire people ; it is a voice, which, if
notlistened to, will perhaps make itself heard
in other and more formidable accents. Are
the South so jealous of State sovereignty ?
do they hold the voice of a sovereignty in
such high respect, in such a sacred regard,
and do they believe that a piece of parch-
ment, or an entry in the records of Con-
gress is the divine source from which it
sprung ? Do they believe that there is no
State, no people in California, until they,
the majority of one, have decided that there
shall be ?

Would the revolt of any portion of an
American Republic, and the establishment
of an independent sovereignty, be a thing
wholly new and unheard of on this conti-
nent } The road across the deserts is per-
ilous for our troops ; and how is it with
them when they arrive in California }
They fraternize with the people, and desert
to the mines. We cannot carry on a success-
ful war against California j we cannot drive

her into the adoption of a Constitution of
our own making. We must receive her —
we, the sovereignties — as an equal, and a
sister sovereignty ; or, if she be of our own
spirit she will turn from us in contempt.
What need, then, to enact laws for the
suppression or the establishment of slavery
in California ? for that is one of the points
at issue. But, perhaps, the deserts are in
danger of the slave-holder ; the steep de-
files and arid plains of New Mexico are in
danger of cotton and sugar cane. Nature
has settled all that; why legislate against
nature ? Legislation in such a spirit,
shows not merely a want of magna-
nimity, but a want of prudence. If a
law is not intended to effect an object,
but merely to express a passion, it is,
indeed, a blow struck into the air ; but
it is a shaking of the fist at the adversary —
a passionate hectoring which will not fail
to rouse him to some resentful action, or at
least awaken contempt.

The general doctrine of the Resolutions
offered by Mr. Clay is, that although the
power of Congress to make laws for the
territories is undeniable, it is, at the present
moment, and, under existing circumstan-
ces, not only inexpedient, but unnecessary
to legislate for them in regard to slavery.
That institution having been already for-
bidden by the laws of Mexico in New
Mexico and California, and by the Resolu-
tions of Annexation in the territory lying
north of 36 deg. 30 min., what need of any
farther legislation upon the subject } If sla-
very must needs be brought upon the new
territories, let the responsibility of this intro-
duction rest upon the new sovereignties which
are to be formed upon it. * * * ]VIr. Clay
urges, that it is proper for both sides, in
tbis great controversy, to make conces-
sions ; we conceive the line of policy which
he has pointed out for us, to be at once
humane and just, and worthy of the emi-
nent position, a position of mediation, in
which Mr. Clay has been placed by the
universal respect of the nation ; he is held
to be a person of sufficient dignity to offer
resolutions of mediation and concession ; the
nation have permitted him to do this ; have
applauded and encouraged him in it ; and
already the spirit of toleration and forbear-
ance begins to temper and subdue the heat
of party animosity in all parts of the country
where the resolutions, and the argument

224 Policy of the Nation — Slavery and its Extension. [March,

which defends them, have been read by the
people.

Because slavery does not exist in the
territories acquired fi'om Mexico, and is
not likely to be introduced there, that is
the reason why it is unnecessary, and, there-
fore, inexpedient for us, to legislate upon the
subject.

In regard to the treatment of the claims
of Texas upon the United States for the
territory of New Mexico, which she calls
her own, wishing to include the most popu-
lous part of that territory within her own
boundaries, Mr. Clay has offered a line of
policy somewhat different in principle,
though identical in aim with that offered
by the President. Claiming for the gene-
ral government an unquestionable and un-
divided power of deciding the controversy
and fixing the line of boundary, he advises
that a certain portion of the debts of Texas
shall be assumed by the general govern-
ment, in compensation for the resignation,
by Texas, of all pretensions on her part,
to the territory in question. That then, a
boundary shall be given to her, adding
largely to her extent, and yet not including
the populous parts of New Mexico, nor
impairing the integrity of that territory, so
soon to become an important member of
the Union.

The language of the resolution of Annex-
ation is, that " Congress doth consent that
the territory properly included within, and
rightfully belonging to the Republic of
Texas, may be erected into a new State ;"
leaving the ascertainment of the boundary
for a future time, as follows : '' Said State
to be formed, subject to the adjustment of
all questions of boundary, &c., &c."

Mr. Clay argues, that as Mexico and
the United States, conjointly, might have
fixed the boundaries of Texas, the power
now lodges solely in the United States,
which was jointly possessed and exercised
by her with Mexico.

How is it with regard to the limits
of new States } (we add of ourselves.)
The people of a certain territory peti-
tion to be made a State, with certain
boundaries ; their petition is granted, with
such boundaries as Congress, in its wisdom,
may see fit to mark out upon the domain ;
and this is the mode in which the bounda-
ries of new States have been defined.

Mr. Clay adds, that possibly after the

boundary has been fixed by the United
States, Texas may bring the question
before the Supreme Court. But that
" there are questions too lai-ge for any
tribunal of that kind to try, — great
political questions, national, territorial
questions, which exceed their limits \-^-
for such questions their powers are ut-
tei'ly incompetent." He will not insist
that this particular question is beyond
the range of the court ; but he claims that
the United States are now invested solely
and exclusively with that power which
was common to both the contracting par-
ties, to fix, ascertain, and settle the western
and northern limits of Texas. He contends
for the full power of the Government, un-
der a clear and obvious necessity, to dis-
pose of any portion of its territory, as the
public good may require, when the limits
of that State are ascertained. With regard
to Texas, all is open and unfixed. The ter-
ritory was purchased from Mexico at the
price of $15,000,000, and a costly bar-
gain ! ! and Texas cannot claim, as her
own, what has been purchased by the na-
tion.

Mr. Clay proposes that as Texas had in-
curred a debt before her annexation, for
which her revenues were pledged, the
people of the United States, being in the
enjoyment of those revenues, may, with
propriety, pay a portion of this debt. He
states, that in the resolutions of Annexa-
tion itis clearly stipulated, that, inno event,
should the United States ' ' become liable for,
or charged with any portion of the debt or
liabilities of Texas ;" but, says Mr. Clay,
there is a third party, who was no party to
the annexation, that is to say, the creditor
of Texas, who advanced the money on the
faith of solemn pledges made by Texas to
him to re-imburse the loan by the appro-
priation of the duties received on foreign
imports.

By the letter of the law, and the terms
of the resolutions of Annexation, we are
not under any obligation to assume any
portion of the debts of Texas. But if we
should, from other considerations, see fit to
do so, then there is a kind of propriety iu
our assuming that portion for which the
revenues were pledged.

The policy of Mr. Clay differs from that
of President Taylor, in the single point of
the method by which the boundary between

1850.] Policy of the Nation — Slavery and its Extension, 225

New Mexico shall be ascertained. Both
agree as to the sufficiency of the laws of
Mexico, still in force there, to render any
action of Congress upon her territory, in
regard to slavery, unnecessary. Mr. Clay,
indeed, advises the establishment of a ter-
ritorial government, by which a line of
boundary must, of course, be adopted.
President Taylor would only protect the
people of New Mexico from aggression,
until they shall be strong enough to form a
sovereignty of their own, and then have
the question of boundary settled by the
Supreme Court.

The plan of Air. Clay is probably the
one most acceptable to Texas, and, per-
haps, to the South generally, were it not
for the prejudice of that portion of the
Union against the exercise of power neces-
sary to the fixation of the boundary. It is
also, in all probability, the one that will be
received with greatest favor in New Mexi-
co, as it promises a speedy protection and
liberation. The inhabitants of that terri-
tory have sent a petition, requesting the
establishment of a more efficient govern-
ment to protect them against the inroads
of the Indian tribes, from which they re-
present they are suffering dreadfully at the
present time. They are also strongly op-
posed to Union with Texas : considera-
tions, which will ensure the popularity of
Mr. Clay's plan of legislation. That of
the President, on the other hand, avoids
much argument, and leaves the question
of boundary to be settled by a competent
tribunal, if indeed there is any evidence
upon which the Court will find it possible
to found a decision.

Of equal moment in this formidable con-
troversy is the question of the abolition of
slavery in the District of Columbia. Mr.
Clay argues against it ; not upon the ground
of its uncoustitutionaUty, — for he contends
that the power of Congress to legislate for
the district is unquestionable by the very
words of the Constitution itself, but because
it is necessary to have regard to the inten-
tions of the ceding States, out of whose terri-
tory the district was originally composed.
All that remains of the District at present, is
that which was ceded by Maryland, the
portion given by Virginia having been sub-
sequently retroceded to that State. The
power to abolish slavery in the District does
not indeed lodge in Maryland, and it there-

fore most evidently resides in Congress it-
self. But it may be highly improper and
inexpedient, — perhaps it may even be an act
of tyranny and dishonor — to employ that
power in this particular instance.

Mr. Clay urges that it never could have
entered into the thoughts of the people of
Maryland and Virginia, when they made
the cession of their territory, that slavery
would be abolished in the District before it
was abolished in their States ; and it would
be taking an unfair advantage of them to
make use of their gift in a manner contrary
to their wishes. This is the argument from
dishonor. It is necessary also to con-
sult justice. If slavery is abolished in the
District, the owners of the slaves must be
fculy compensated for their loss ; and, more-
over, as the wishes of the people ought,
in all important cases, to be consulted, the
assent of the inhabitants of the District
must be obtained, if we would remove
from the act the imputation of tyranny.
The people of the District have no repre-
sentation ; and, it is, therefore, necessary
to use the greatest delicacy and caution
in making laws for them, and to consult
their wishes in so momentous a matter.
These conditions must all be fully satis-
fied, Mr. Clay argues, before it can be
either just, honorable or expedient to abol-
ish slavery in the District of Columbia.

In regard to the slave trade in that Dis-
trict, however, Mr. Clay speaks of it in
terms of the severest condemnation and
abhorrence, and would have it immediately
abolished, by authority "of the general gov-
ernment.

It seems, at first view, an intolerable
thing that the seat of government of a
free country should be contaminated by
the presence of a slave. This is the en-
thusiastic view of the matter : we forget, in
indulging it, that the District, being chiefly
inhabited by officers of the government,
and representatives of the entire nation,
does necessarily, in itself, represent not
merely the free, but the slave States.
Southern Representatives residing in the
District, become citizens of the District.
They, of course, bring with them their do-
mestic servants, to whom they are person-
ally, often tenderly, attached. It is neces-
sary to pay a regard to their feelings, in
this matter at least. The District repre-
sents the entire nation, and the domestic

226 Policy of the Nation — Slavery and its Extension. [March,

institutions of every State in the nation ; a
consideration not merely therotic, but very
practical ; and which, lying as it were la-
tent, and unrecognized, in the mind of Nor-
thern legislators, has made them hitherto
extremely reluctant to employ the power
of Congress against slavery in the District.
In regard to the securing and restitution
of nuiaway slaves, the action of the
Northem States has been, in many in-
stances, adverse to that provision of the Con-
stitution which requires it. Mr. Clay hopes
that the Legislatures of Northern States
may be induced, by calmer considerations,
to retrace their steps in this direction. We
conceive that the opposition of some por-
tions of the Northern people to the re-de-
livery of slaves, has arisen from the very
general opinion entertained there that ne-
groes are badly treated by their mas-
ters in the South ; that they are made
merchandize of, and bought and sold with-
out remorse. This opinion has arisen
chiefly from the observations of Northerners
residing in the District of Columbia, where
they see a trafl&c in slaves carried on within
sight of the Capitol. The abolition of this
trafEc, it appears to us, would be not merely
a humane, but a highly politic measure
for the South, and would serve to quiet
excitement and agitation.

Mr. Clay's last resolution, that Congress
has no power to prohibit or obstruct the
trade in slaves between the slave-holding
States, seems to be almost a necessary de-
duction from the admission of a sovereign
power in those States over the institution
itself. The owner of a slave, in one State,
is also the owner of him in the State ad-
joining; he, therefore, has an unquestiona-
ble right to move hun across the boundary,
unless forbidden by one or other of the two
sovereignties themselves.

Laying aside, for the present, all propo-
sitions for a direct legislative prohibition
of slavery in the territories, not as they are
unconstitutional, but as they are ill-timed
and unnecessary, we come upon the second
line of policy which has been proposed —
the policy of establishing a line of compro-
mise on one side of v^^hich slavery shall be
prohibited, and on the other, permitted, if
not tacitly established.

The objections to this measure are ob-
vious and insuperable.

Whatever line is adopted will be, of ne-

cessity, a shifting line ; it cannot be fixed
upon any equitable piinciples. If an
equal division of territory is to be made,
(and it is now necessary to exclude Cali-
fornia, she having declared against the in-
troduction of slavery ; and New Mexico is
in a fair way, also, to take a similar course
with her sister territory,) between the
North and the South, it will be either equi-
valent to a direct legislation, establishing
slavery in one part of the teriitory, and
forbidding it in another ; or it will be a
measure wholly useless and of no avail to
the South.

By whatever means the introduction or
prohibition is legalized, whether by a joint
resolution of compromise, or by an act, or
a proviso attached to an act, such legaliza-
tion by act, by resolution, or proviso, will
be an implied denial, a giving up of the
great doctrine of the South, — for which it
has contended so stoutly, — that Congress
has no power to legislate for the territories.
Adverse to that doctrine, and insisting, for
our own part, on the constitutionality of a
direct legislation for the entire territory,
we are unwilling to admit the princi2)le of
such a compromise as has been proposed,
as a basis of legislative action.

The establishment of a line of compro-
mise, dividing one part of the teriitory from
another, is a division of what ought not to
be divided ; a division of sovereignty ; it is a
denationalization of the public councils ; we
even doubt the constitutionality of the
measure. The North enjoys as full and
complete a sovereignty over the new terri-
tories as the South ; and is it allowable for
a majority in Congress tacitly to yield the
power of legislation, the sovereign power
which is inherent in the North as truly as
it is in the South — which is inherent not in
any one State or group of States, but in
the entire nation } Not so, however, in case
the power were expressly reserved of legis-
lating in future for the territory South of
the line as might seem expedient : but the
South would not agree to any reservation ;
if a line is adopted the adoption is final.

Mr. Clay is opposed to the adoption of a
line. Were the line established, he says, it
would be illusory to the South ; — that
slavery will not establish itself there, being
already interdicted by nature, and the fiat
of the people in California and New Mexi-
co : and it would be mere madness to at-

1850.] Policy of the Nation — Slavery audits Extension. 227

tempt a direct legislative action, establish-
ing slavery where it is interdicted, both by
nature and by circumstance. He says
that if slavery be interdicted north of the
line, the South will have gained nothing,
unless it be established by the same act,
south of the line ; but that is an impossi-
bility : there could not be twenty votes got
in favor of it. It has been said, he con-
tinues, that non-legislation on this point,
in regard to California, implies the same
thing as the exclusion of slavery from that
region. "That,'' says Mr. Clay, "we
cannot help : that. Congress is not re-
proachable for. If nature has pronounced
the doom of slavery upon those territories
— if she has declared, by her immutable
laws, that slavery cannot and shall not be
introduced there, whom can you reproach
but nature, or nature's God .' Congress
we cannot ; — Congress abstains ; — Congress
is passive ; — Congress is non-active in the
plan which proposes to extend no line ; —
leaves the entire theatre of these territories
untouched by legislative enactment, either
to exclude or admit slavery." '' I ask
again," he continues, "if you will listen to
the voice of calm and dispassionate reason,
— I ask of any man from the South to rise
and tell me, if it is not better for his sec-
tion of the Union that Congress should re-
main passive, on both sides of any ideal
line, than that it should interdict slavery
on one side of the line, and be passive in
regard to it on the other side of the line ?"

A compromise line adopted by resolu-
tion, is an act equivalent to the establish-
ment of a fundamental law. Though it be
not an act in a strictly legal sense, it is a
something more than an act ; it is more
effectual, because it is irreversible, irrevo-
cable, and cannot be repealed. It is a re-
signation, or rather a division, of the high-
est function, that of sovereignty over per-
sons, by a mere majority, between two sec-
tions of the nation. We say, therefore, it is
equivalent to a fundamental law, and in
so far as it has any effects whatever, must
have the effects of such a law.

A line of compromise, to be an equitable
line, should be a shifting Ime ; nor should
it be a parallel of latitude, as it is a division
of property, — nay, more, a division of sov-
ereignty ; it must be drawn, if justly, with
regard not merely to the extent but the
probable value of the territory so divided.

It must be a shifting line, because with
every new addition of territory a now di-
vision must be made. Should the line be
drawn through New Mexico, and a portion
of that territory given up to the South, and
the division regarded as an equitable one, no
sooner then shall we have added Cuba, or,
by cession from Mexico, the countries south
of Texas, the line has ceased to be equita-
ble and must be moved farther south. We
need not speak now of Canada, though it
is easy to see how the addition of the two
Canadian States, with the vast territories
attached to them, would rouse the jeal-
ousy of the South, who would then de-
mand a re-adjustment of the line, were its
position unsettled, or if not, then the pur-
chase of more territory to maintain the bal-
ance on their side.

But the adoption of such a line implies
an idea, f;ilse, and contrary to nature, of
the causes of this great controversy. The
people of the North, loolving upon slavery
merely as a form of government, and which
might be erected upon any soil and in any
climate, have placed too little confidence
in nature and necessity. They have not
considered that slavery cannot be carried
out over the prairies of the West, or into
the defiles of the Rocky Mountains. The
growers of cotton, of tobacco, of rice, and
of sugar, seek out such fields as are suita-
ble to the products which they cultivate ;
and these are the only products to which
slave labor can be profitably applied ; there
is a limit to this institution, beyond which
if it is attempted to be forced, as it has
been in some parts of the continent, it is
depressed and extinguished by the slow
but certain operation of natural laws.
Such was the ftxte of slavery in Connecti-
cut, in New York, in New Jersey, in
Pennsylvania, and such, beyond all rea-
sonable doubt, must be its fate in Dela-
ware, in Maryland, in Virginia, in Tennes-
see, in Kentucky, and in Missouri. The
negro laborer thrives in climates where the
white laborer perishes ; negro labor is not pro-
fitable excepting under circumstances pecu-
liarly favorable ; the crop must be one of
four kinds, already mentioned ; for though
maize and other grains are largely culti-
vated at the South, they are not counted
among the great sources of wealth: were
corn to be the only export of the South,
her wealth might be soon counted. The

228 Policy of the Nation — Slavery and its Extension. [March,

fixing, tlierefore, of a line of compromise
would be, in another sense of the word, a
compromise of the laws of nature.

Were the line so drawn as to embrace coun-
tries in which negro labor is unprofitable, the
institution of slavery would be forced out
upon territories wholly unfitted to receive
it — territories like New Mexico and Cali-
fornia, where the labor of white men,
artizans and tillers of the soil, is not
only possible but profitable. Governments
have a weighty responsibility in directing
the course of the emigrant ; in preparing
the way for him ; in showing him to what
lands, to what waters he should repair, — in
preserving him from the rapacity of specu-
lators, and from the disastrous efiects of
his own ignorance. But it is perhaps all in
vain to speak of these things in this age of
" individual enterprise." Governments
have now only to bury the dead, if we ac-
cept the tenets of a certain school.

Visions of colonial prosperity are dash-
ed by the experience of a single man ; if
one man cannot make wheat grow in the
deserts, a thousand never will ; if rice and
sugar abhor the climate of New Mexico,
if cotton refuses to bo profitable there, the
South will storm and legislate to little pur-
pose. The master may take his slaves
into a new region, to contend there with
new difiicultieSjbut it were far better for him
to give them a new discipline, to give a new
direction to their energies at home, than to
follow a dream. But when the madness
of the private man is stimulated by legis-
lation, when he is gravely sent to his ruin
by Senates and Houses of Assembly, then
comes calamity indeed ; and the State bu-
ries her citizens in the wilderness, she buries
her treasures there, something better than
gold, — the spu-it and the energy of young
adventure.

And what is the origin of this monstrous
procedure .? this attempt to force out the
institution of slavery upon soils unfitted to
sustain it } To maintain what .'' The
Balance of Power !

There are now fifteen against fifteen.
California, New Mexico, the coming States
of Oregon and Minesota, and perhaps the
two Canadas, will turn the scale ; and then,
what becomes of your Balance of Power }
We have admitted Texas ; we are bound,
therefore, by obligations as solemn as oaths,
to admit California. When the Canadas

ofier, we must accept them too ; Minesota
and Oregon will have to be received ; with
decency we cannot refuse them. At best,
we can only defer and procrastinate ; they
must conae in ; they are knocking at the
door, and if we, the door-keepers, refuse
them entrance, the nation will, without
much controversy, elect new door-keepers
more hospitable than we.

Balance of Power ! — who holds it ? Who
is it that wedges in this detestable de-
lusion between the Northern and South-
ern sides of this body of one soul and one
life } The States of Europe, existing
in a condition of perpetual hatred and
alarm, held together by no principle of
right, no declaration of liberty, but if at all,
by temporary and interested alliances, con-
fessions of mutual weakness or wickedness ;
their governments, the prize of every mili-
tary adventurer ; the system itself a chaos,
changeful as rolling smoke clouds, which
assume every instant a new figure and posi-
tion ; to-day, a monarchy, and the affilia-
tion of monarchies ; to-morrow a revolution,
a demagogue changing swiftly into a des-
pot, and then an expansive and soon collap-
sing empire, — in such a chaos, what can
England do for herself, but maintain a
Balance of Power .? England holds the
Balance of Power for Europe ; wisely and
prudently for the most part, with a clear
head, and an unflinching resolution, she
watches the contending powers of the con-
tinent, and, when the scale turns to her
own disadvantage, hurls in her cannon and
her ships to make the balance again even.
England holds the Balance of Power for
Europe ; but who holds it here .? There
is no analogy. America contemns, denies
and denounces this doctrine of divisions.
Late in the day we have this new delusion
of a Balance of Power, sprung upon us by
the State of South Carolina. Is she the
third party, forsooth, between the North-
ern and the Southern halves of this great
empire, of this nation of twenty millions,
absorbing a continent, and holding the des-
tinies of arts, arms and commerce in her
hopeful future .''

In the closing remarks of his speech,
Mr. Clay alludes, with great force, to the
consequences of a dissolution of the Union,
or to a cecession from it, of any portion of
the slave States. Were the Union dis-
solved, it would be no remedy nor redress

1850.] Policy of the Nation — Slavery and its Extension,

229

of grievances for the South ; the territories
would not thereby be converted into shxve
territories. In the event of this dissolution,
slavery would not be restored in the District
of Columbia had it already been abolished
there. Were the several States independ-
ent of each other, slaves escaping into the
non-slave holding States, could never, in
any instance, be recovered. Where one
slave escapes now, hundreds and thousands
would escape if the Union were dissolved,
no matter where or how the division might
be made. The attempt to recover these
slaves upon the borders would keep up a
perpetual civil war, until slavery in the
border States of the South was extinct and
every negro converted into an insurrec-
tionist. " In less than sixty days" after
such an event, " war would be blazing in
every part of this now happy and peaceful
land."

But more forcible than any reasons from
expediency, is the well established doctrine
which Mr. Clay here enforces in his most
eloquent and powerful manner, that the
secession of a State is impossible without
an entire destruction of the system. Were
that system broken up, " there would be a
confederacy of the North, a confederacy
of the Southern Atlantic slave holding
States — and a confederacy of the Valley
of Mississippi. " My life upon it, the vast
population which has already concentrated,
and will concentrate, on the head waters of
the tributaries of the Mississippi will never
give their consent that the mouth of that
river shall be held subject to the power of
any foreign State or community whatever.
Such, I believe, would be the consequences
of a dissolution of the Union, immediately
ensuing ; but other confederacies would
spring up from time to time, as dissatisfac-
tion and discontent were disseminated
throughout the country — the confederacy
of the Lakes, perhaps the confederacy of
New England, or of the Middle States.
Ah, sii-, the veil which covers those sad

and disastrous events which lie beyond it,
is too thick to be penetrated or lifted by
any mortal eye or hand." The distin-
guished orator declares that he is for staying
within the Union, and fighting for his
rights, if necessary, within the bounds and
under the safeguard of the Union. He
will not be driven out of the Union by any
portion of this confederacy. One or more
States have no right to secede from the
Union. " The Constitution was not made
merely for the generation that then existed,
but for posterity — unlimited, undefined,
endless, perpetual posterity," and every
State that has come into the Union has
bound itself by indissoluble bands, " to
remain within it by its posterity forever."
There can be no divorce — there must be
conciliation and forbearance. War and
dissolution are inseparable — a war, terri-
ble, exhausting, exterminating, until some
Philip or Alexander, some Cassar or Na-
poleon, should arise and cut the Gordian
knot, and solve at length the problem of
the capacity of man for self-government.
In the course of the preceding argument
against the expediency, ^rs?, of a direct le-
gislative action upon the territories, and
second of the adoption of a line of compro-
mise, we have sufficiently developed the
principles of the tJiird line of policy, which
has been so ably indicated and defended
in the Message of the President and
the resolutions and speech of Mr. Clay.
This pohcy neither assaults the prejudices,
nor compromises the principles of either
section. It is based upon the general opin-
ion of the nation, that slavery is not a
system which we should desire, for its own
sake, to see extended, and which ought in-
deed to be restricted ; but that the ne-
cessary restriction having been already
made by nature, and by circumstance, — it
would be unwise, to say the least, to move
at the present junction, for any legislative
action, either by compromise, or by direct
prohibition, against the extension of slavery.

2ao

Shirley, Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights. [March,

SHIKLEY, JANE EYRE AND WUTHERING HEIGHTS.

These biilliant novels are written by
kindred hands, and shew a marked resem-
blance of mental powers in their authors,
and as strong contrasts of character. The
knowledge displayed of the springs of hu-
man conduct, is wonderful, as is the dra-
matic power, which, in a few bold touches,
brings the strongest but most truthful
phases of character before us. Both wri-
ters, too, are wanting in that inferior crea-
tive genius which makes mere narrative
interesting. Their plots drag heavily
along ; and we bend over the pages, as
gold-diggers over yellow sands, in search
of hidden treasures. This defect injures
their power of portraiture, and some scenes
are failures, plainly from inability to weave
incident to clothe the ftiir conceptions of
their fancy. But this dullness of the
back-ground increases the vividness with
which the main figures are thrown forward.
The life-like effect is indeed so great, that,
with Shakspeare's characters, no one
doubts their existence. Jane Eyre, and
Rochester, and Shirley, as well as Hamlet
and Juliet, live, and are very well known
to all that have once read of them ; they are
choice acquaintance, and have more reality
to us than nine-tenths of the men and
women we shake hands with, and salute every
day of our lives. But not merely in char-
acter do these novels excel ; they are the
best love-stories we have ever read; and
first in this respect — let not our fair readers
shudder — stands Wuthering Heights. This
book tears off, roughly enough, the tinsel
from passion. It has no interest of plot,
range of character, or the chivalric attri-
butes that love gives birth to, or rather
displays ; but we have the man, harsh,
pitiless, wolfish, without a spark of kind-
ness for the woman whose passion yet fills his
whole life, with less than kindness for his
fellow-men ; a human wild beast, uncom-
mon but not unnatural, of whom there are
many around us muzzled by society, and
who show their fangs only in troubled
times. The woman, too, equally dead to

pity, but without downright malevolence,
is bright and biting as a clear day in win-
ter. The passion of these human tigers
for each other is pure love, or rather sheer
love. Selfish — as all love is in its essence ;
not sensual, for it is a woman that writes —
fierce and frenzied. Their passion-plaints
are " beautiful exceedingly." Thoroughly
selfish, for they are without those traits
that re-act on love and redeem it of its sel-
fishness. Parrhasius-like, they would have
doomed each other to hideous tortures, to
have drawn forth one gasp of passion.
Without the shadow of remorse for the
share he had in her fate, he lives through
many years with his heart moaning for his
love ; he hears her in the wailing winds,
he sees her in the midnight mists ; when
he dies, worn out by his heated brain, the
hope that smiles on his brow is to have his
place in the church-yard corner where she
lies ; brighter than heaven to him, to lie by
the side of the dead woman.

Equally truthful, though less wrought
up, are the love-scenes in Jane Eyre and
Shirley ; less wrought up in the portrayal of
passion, they involve a greater knowledge
of character, and in one respect are com-
plete studies. So far as they go, they pre-
sent a perfect analysis of love. They point
out the mental and moral traits for which,
and for which only, men and women love
each other. Personal beauty is mental
beauty shining through the form and fea-
tures. A thick opaque countenance may
hide the beautiful soul within ; distorted
features may caricature it, but the assist-
ance that regular features give is negative ;
they are the tabula rasa on which our
hearts write their stories. In the painting
of this inward comeliness, the writer shows
all her strength. She wastes no time on
the mere appearance of her heroes, and in
skilful touches pictures how the hearts of
her women are won by manly qualities
alone; manly qualities^ not acts. The
purposeless lives of the men in these books
is objected to, and cited as a proof of the

1850.] Shirley, Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights.

231

writers being women. The conclusion is
good, but the objection fallacious. The
common error in literaturo is the represen-
tation of passive emotion by action. Feel-
ing is quiescent.

" As when a bell no longer swings,
Faiiit the hollow murmur rings."

Character is shewn as much by the fire-
side as in the battle of life ; and women,
who are the quickest to perceive native
force, see nothing of men in their struggles
with the world. Our manners with them
are trimmed to as unvarying a standard as
our coats or our whiskers ; but a single
word or tone, a flash of the eye or quiver
of the lip, and the strong heart is bared to
these quick observers. The still life of
these novels is well fitted for this delicate
training ; and admirably is it accomplish-
ed. The strong soul in man is beautiful
to women ; still more so the strong soul
that is "tender and true." Force and
gentleness compel their love. Shirley, who
already knows that Gerard is a man among
men, unmoved by danger or disaster, self-
reliant, unflagging in the pursuit of his foe,
is told by Caroline that he is, among those
he loves, gentle and considerate. Shirley is
instantly struck with his personal beauty.
" ' I know somebody to whose knee the
cat loves to climb ; against whose knee
and cheek it likes to purr. The old dog
always comes out of his kennel andwags
his tail, and whines affectionately when
somebody passes.'

" ' And what does that somebody do P
" ' He quietly strokes the cat, and lets
her sit while he well can, and when he
must disturb her by rising, he puts her
softly down, and never flings her fiom him
roughly ; he always whistles to the dog,
and gives it a caress.'

" ' Does he } It is not Robert.'
'"But it is Robert.'
" ' Handsome fellow ^'' said Shirley, with
enthusiasm; her eyes sparkled."

The authoress has slight sympathy for
kindness ; hence the action in this picture.
She is fully alive to magnanimity ; hence
its dramatic truth. Its deep philosophy
comes from the heart of a woman, not the
brain of a man.

The character of Louis More, and the
scenes in which he bears a part in the lat-
ter part of the book, are, in a degree, fail-

ures. The materials were poor, and the
author's constructive powers unequal to
the task. The tutor, the maiden, and a
choleric old uncle, together with the, per-
haps, intentional poverty of the plot, were
too much, even, for this writer. Bulwer
would have worked up the same materials
to intense interest, but he never could have
given utterance to the beautiful thought
that was vainly strugsjling in the biain of
the authoress of Shiiley. She wished to
draw the Apollo of a heart wbich less than
Apollo could hardly fill. What such a
heart could comprehend, it could not love.
Shirley saw that Gerard had worth, knowl-
edge of men, simple dignity, and he excites
her woman's admiration. She saw, too,
his self-ignorance and narrowed sphere of
thought, and he fails to move her love.
The writer wishes to paint a man supe-
rior in every respect to this noble-hearted,
noble-minded woman. Inferioiity in the
man, of any kind, even conventional, de-
stroys the perfection of love. This trait
she paints in two words.
'"My pupil,'
'"My Master.'"

Before he can speak of love to her, he
escapes from their present social position,
and reverts to their former relations of
teacher and scholar.

Lamartine in Raphael forgets this point
when he makes his hei'o sit a snubbed youth
in a corner, while his mistress, as a woman,
is treated with deference by the assembled
savans. Our authoress wishes to paint the
ideal that is in every woman's heart.

Such a man never trod the earth but
once. His story is simple and old. But
the manhood of that man has never been re-
peated. She could do no otherwise than fail.
The scene between the lovers and the testy
old uncle, ends in a caricature. Such a char-
acter as the tutor's should hardly indulge in
vulgar violence ; at any rate, it should have
been demoniac. Heathcliff, in Wuthering
Heights, would have thrust the offender by
the head into the burning grate.

Caroline, is a character the masculine
readers of this book will delight to dweU
upon. Submissive, sympathizing, truthful,
seeking support for her gentle nature, she
has for Gerard all that boundless devotion
that Shirley could also feel, but only for
superhuman perfection.

The fervor of manly love is drawn with

232

Shirley, Jane Eyre, and JVuthering Heights. [March,

great effect, but with less analytic nicety ;
a woman herself, she cannot fully under-
stand the feelings of men.

One defect running through these novels
is, the unintended refinement even in the
coarser personages. Women seldom know,
unless by dire experience, the full brutality,
or rather brutishuess, of bad men's hearts.
The subhiissive character of women tends,
in imperfect natm'es, to meanness ; the rug-
ged force of men, to brutality. The femi-
nine fault, consequently, is shewn with great
accuracy in the wife of Heathcliff ; the mas-
culine error is nowhere completely descii-
bed. There is a refinement of nature even
in the vampire Heathcliff, amid all his hid-
eous harshness. The very awkardness with
which the writer puts an occasional clumsy
oath in his mouth, is an instance of this.

The elements of character worked up in
these books are phrenological ; and the
general interest they have awakened, is a
strong tribute to that slumbering science.
That angular family, the Yorkes, are a
phrenological study. The censorious, strong-
minded Mrs. Yorke, with her jealous envy
of the young and fair : Yorke himself, like
a dry wine, harsh to the palate, but of de-
licious bouquet. His democracy, however,
is not in keeping. His want of veneration
would have made him merely indifferent to
social distinctions, — a poor man, he might
have been a noisy democrat, but not an
earnest one: a rich man, he would have
sided with thsse that suited his tastes.
Large veneration is required to respect our-
selves or respect others, bothof which feel-
ings we must have to feel the stings of caste.
We suspect, if Yorke was drawn from na-
ture, there must have been a spice of vul-
garity in the original, which, assuredly,
there is not in the sketch ; and he natural-
ly contemns what he cannot attain.

The curates, in Shirley, are a fine group,
and stand out in bold relief from the rest
of the book ; the more so, that they seem
to have nothing in the world to do in it.
They shew strongly the authors inability to
manage the mere frame work of a novel.
Her mind teems with analysis of character,
but wants power of artistic development.
Donne is a gem. Self-esteem in some com-
bination, thin-skinned, and all raw nerve,
when alone, and unrestrained, wears a per-
fect coat of mail. Scorn, ridicule, con-
tempt, are all wasted on its brazen front ;

and Shirley's lively mode is absolutely the
only way to deal with it. Dead to all shame,
or praise, or blame, and alive only to inter-
est and self-importance, it forms what are
called impracticable characters ; men utter-
ly unvvarmed by moral influence or noble
personal traits, and yet hindered by no
foolish sensitiveness in carrying their own
points. Any man, at any time, for any
purpose, is their golden rule. Their ob-
tuseness they complacently call energy,
and the world as complacently believes
them.

These writers invariably fail in be-
nevolent characters. Whatever is within
the compass of their own varying moods,
they can accurately and dramatically por-
tray. Beyond that no one can go. Feel-
ings wanting in our own breasts, we can no
more comprehend than a man, born blind,
can light. Lack of conscience thinks right
and wrong conventional forms. iJwbene-
volence calls pity, ostentation or weakness ;
and when experience forces it on us that
these are really windows of the soul, which
in ourselves are darkened, we still see only
acts^ not to be explained but by a moral
sense unknown to ourselves. Hence, the
tameness of the benevolent personages in
these novels. In fact, there are none.
Sometimes it is sympathy of man with
man ; sometime it is weakness. Caroline,
the assemblage, otherwise, of all that is
perfect in woman, sympthathizes fully,
but sympathizes only, with the governess.
IMr. Hall sympathizes with the pauper ; at
other times he is only a weak, siuipering
old gentleman. What this defect, however, ,
loses in universality, it gains in piquancy.
Every character in the books has a touch
of it, and it gives most of their raciness to
the Yorke family, Rochester, and Shirley.
In Wutherinof Heiirhts and Wildfell
Hall, both pity and justice are unknown
words. The complete absence of the lat-
tar feeling is singular. There is no inten-
tion about it ; the writer is clearly uncon-
scious of the want. There is no pruning
away purposely to portray a one-sided
character. The writer is of false propor-
tions herself. This is plain in the heroine
of Wildfell Hall, who tells her own story
of her infamous husband, but who, as we
read, we feel assured, conceals her own cul-
pability. This character is not true. To
benevolence, however, this authoress makes

1850.] Shirley, Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights.

233

no pretence, and in this respect her sketch-
es are truthful.

She draws a phase of character not seen
in Jane Eyre and Shirley. With few ex-
ceptions, her men and women all have the
sullen lower of dostructiveness. Her young
people are tigcr-whelps, that cufF each
other for play. The whine of affection is
followed by the growl of rage. The gloomy
depths of her own heart she bares with ter-
rible skill. She paints the wild beast in
man, not gorging himself with blood, but
in repose ; and we shudder at his scowl and
mutter, as at the death-roar. It is a per-
fect anatomy of ferocity. Destructiveness
and combativeness in the brain lie side by
side, and their mental developments are so
closely combined, that to discriminate re-
quires the nicest dissection. We see their
combined action in varying shades, from
the good-natured fight of the Englishman,
followed by " shake hands and be friends,"
to the hacking and hewing of the Western
gladiator with his bowie-knife. But here,
there is none of the keenness of combative-
ness ; nothing impulsive. All is sullen ; the
snapping and snailing of wolves, the hiss of
the serpent, the yell of the panther.

From the moral-picturesque of fei'ocity
and tenderness, she works up some scenes
of wild pathos. Sweetly across this wintry
sky come soft gleams of light, a ray pierces
the night, and the gloom of this iron soul
changes into drear beauty.

The writer is chary of these touches,
and hence the repulsive nature of this
book. No simple element, moral or natu-
^ ral, possesses beauty of itself. It is in the
• ^ combination of contrasts that the heavenly
flame bursts forth. The representation of
any one feeling is interesting only as scien-
tific analysis ; but from the god and the fiend
that sit side-by-side in man's breast are
evolved the true conditions of sublimity.

In Shirley and Jane Eyre, there is not a
single weU-drawn female character that is
not cast in the Shirleian mould. Caroline
strikes us with an appearance of feebleness
which by no means belongs to the gentle-
ness and boundless devotion she is meant
to personate. The authoress has little
feeling of the kind herself, and she cannot
distinguish between negation of force, and
the traits that give sweetness and pliability
to women. Caroline's mind, also, is not
of the true feminine cast. Like Shirley's,

it is analytic and shrewd, and not lively,
imaginative and tasteful. The writer could
only draw from her own masculine mind,
and half- masculine soul.

Mrs. Pryor is an utter failure. Mrs.
Yorke, on the other hand, one of the best
characters in the book, is a matter-of-foct,
heavy-minded Shirley. Jane Eyre ia
Shirley herself, under the depression of
caste and wearying duties. This manner-
ism gives us a complete daguerreotype of
the writer. By her works do we know
her. Much of her history do we learn ;
more of herself. She dwells apart, but
phrenology will bring this fair star with-
in our ken. Behold her, as she passes
over the field of vision.

Her brow is neither high nor wide, but
projecting — Kant-like. Her temples, swell-
ing with poesy and dramatic power, gleam
white amid her curls. The central ridge
of her forehead is the home of her search-
ing thought. Back therefrom, sharp and
angular, runs upward the inclined plane of
her brain. We look in vain for the gen-
tleness of woman, the pity that soothes,
and not degrades. We look in vain for
the venerative impulse, that gives life its
earnestness and reality ; its sadness, per-
chance, but its grandeur ; that raises man
to the throne of the god, and fills the heart
of woman with devotion and deep truth.
But high above, like watchers over the
broken wall, sit conscience and resolute
will. Queen-like they have quelled the
rising of passion, and whispering tender-
ness. They have urged her patient foot-
steps, as she plod unfailing over her once
dreai-y path. It is over, and now, like
Shirley, " she saunters slowly along ; her
gait, her countenance, wearing that mixture
of tvistfulness and carelessness^ which,
when quiescent, is the wonted cast of her
look, and character of her soul." A win-
ning smile, not gentle, plays at times over
her face. Her greeting is genial and
heart-felt ; a warm grasp of her little hand ;
a glad eye- welcome. With ordinary peo-
ple she is listless and absent-minded ; reve-
ry has for her greater charms than the refine-
ments of small-talk. Neither is she a blue-
stocking, that neuter gender of intellects.
Her mind is simply masculine, bold, an-
alytic and original ; keen and cainest in
discussion, at home in metaphysical dispu-
tation, and eager for the fray. Observing,

234

Shirley t Jane Eyre, and Wuthering Heights. [March,

but only to arrive at motives; that done,
a character once dissected and laid away,
she dismisses it from her attention ; for at
any moment, from the known quantity of
a word or look, she can work out the un-
known quantities in the formula of human
nature. Little humor has she, but much
wit ; not loving satire for its own sake,
when aroused her blade descends with light-
ning flash.

Less pleasing is the picture we have of
the authoress of Wuthering Heights. Dark
and sad is her soul ; a sullen fire is in her
eye ; her talk is cold and depressing. All
weakness, and foibles of poor, humanity
she pounces on, as vultures on carrion.
There is at times a cordial look, a hearti-
ness about her, that surprises, and from its
unexpectedness, wins. She has some
friends in consequence who say she is not
understood ; that if she is a bitter foe, she
is also a warm friend. She is sometimes
a warm friend, and always a bitter foe. If
she is fair, her beauty is of Pandemonium.
She would make a glorious lover, but a
very uncomfortable wife. The unfortu-
nate, her husband, her love would make
miserable ; her hate would give him a taste
of purgatory.

Both Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre
have been revHed for their immoral ten-
dency ; the first deservedly enough ; the
latter, for no good reason that we can see.
The influence that novels exert, proceeds
almost entirely from sympathy ; in other
words, the evolutions in our own breasts of
feelings shnilar to those depictured, accord-
ing to these feelings, is a book, a strength-
ener of morality, or a fire-brand in society.
No feeling, as God has given it to us, is
in vain. Each has its proper sphere and
limits ; and anything that, within these
limits, develops emotions that give breadth
and force to character, is useful in its de-
gree. It is true, one hour spent in actual
exertion of our finer sentiments, is worth
days of fictitious life. But novels, we
take it, are an amusement. They cheer
old age with the joys of retrospection ; they
divert the mind of youth from the strife
of rising passions ; and give freshness and
relief to middle life. They bring the gay

world to the quiet fireside, and supply the
place of more noxious relaxations. We
have risen to them from the sports of the
amphitheatre, through the tournament, the
bull-fight and bear-baiting, the coffee-
house and the club.

In this light, then, they are useful. If
they do us no harm in our grappling with the
stern duties of life, it is well; if they ac-
tually assist us, it is better. Sympathy,
however, may be carried too far; senti-
ments may be developed so as to deprive
the character of its due balance, or asso-
ciations thrown around to rob them of their
purity. This is the case with Wuthering
Heights. A degree of ferocity necessary
to primitive man, the forest-prowler, wild
as the beasts that wrestle with him for his
prey, would hardly suit the men of the
nineteenth century. Such pictures might
give vigor to weakness, iron to the feeble
blood ; but few men need such promptings.
There is enough in the world, and more
than enough, to change the kindliest na-
ture to gall.

The frenzied love, too, so powerfully
pictured in these volumes, fresh and unde-
filed, free alike from sensuality and senti-
ment, such as men might have felt when
the world was young, is unhallowed ; and
thus leads our noblest impulses to sympa-
thize with crime. No poetical retribution
can destroy influences like these. The
moral, in fact, in such books, is a sop to
Cerberus, to blind to the effect of a series
of prurient and exciting scenes. The soul
is seared by blasts from hell, and then told
to be strong and fail not.

But in Jane Eyre, every thing tends to ■'^
the side of virtue. The patient plodding
through long dull years of toil, so difficult
of dramatic representation, is here finely
brought out. As we read, our breasts are
filled with the sombre dogged spirit that
chained the maiden to her duties. When
the mystery is cleared up that makes it
crime for Jane, or the reader, to listen to
w^ords of love, she flees from its pollu-
tion ; and its voice is no more heard, till
punishment frees the man's hands, and pu-
rifies his soul. T. C. C.

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

235

BRITISH ENCROACHMENTS AND AGGRESSIONS

IN CENTRAL AMERICA.

THE MOSQUITO QUESTION.

(Continued from page 218.^

[Then followed another grant, compre-
hending all the territory south of the river
San Juan to the boundaries of New Grena-
da, including Bora del Toro and Chiriqui
Lagoon. This grant was made in the
same terms with the first. MSS.

Another grant, made Feb. 1st. 1839,
giving, " Little Corn Island ; and," says
our author, " it is possible a keg of rum
would have procured a similar grant of
Mexico or the United States" from the
same royal hands.

The assent of the Mosquito dignitaries
was obtained in form, and each man made
his mark. MSS.]

" These are to certify, that in consequence
of the very low price of tortoise shell, on
which we and our people depend for our liv-
^ ing, it is entirely out of our power to pay our
debts, &c. It, therefore, gives us great satis-
faction, &c., that our good king, &c., has, by
giving a grant of land, freed us from all debts
due to those traders, &c., &c., &c."

Signed by the Mosquito dignitaries. [MSS.]

[There were other cessions to other indi-
viduals, covering nearly the entire "king-
dom."

When the intelligence of these proceed-
ings reached Jamaica and the Belize, it ex-
cited great alarm among the government
conspirators. Col. M'Donald, the Super-
intendent of Belize, had " his Majesty
Robert Charles Frederick," immediately
brought within his jurisdiction, when every
effort was made to procure a revocation of

VOL. V. NO, III. NEW SERIES.

these cessions. But the royal word had
been plighted, or rather his Majesty stood
in too great bodily aice of the Jamaica
traders : the attempt failed. Col. M'-
Donald, however, secured from him the ac-
companying document, which is certainly
a curiosity in regal history.

Here follows, in the English form, the
"Will of his Majesty the King of the
Mosquito nation," directing, that in the
event of his death, the " affairs of his king-
dom" should be continued in the hands of
" Commissioners, appointed by me, upon
the nomination of His Excellency, Col.
M'Donald, Her Majesty's Superintend-
ent," as Regents during the minority of the
heir. Also, that the United Church of
England and Ireland shall be the estab-
lished religion of the Mosquito nation, for-
ever."

Col. M'Donald and the Commissioners,
or Regents, are also made guardians of the
" royal" children.

In case of the death of Col. M'Donald,
Commissioners are directed to apply to the
Queen of Great Britain to fill the vacany.

Also a request that her Majesty wiU
continue to protect the kingdom of Mos-
quito as heretofore.

This wiU was signed by the " king" and
the " judges of the Supreme Court of Hon-
duras " ! !]

Under this authority, certainly no better
than that on which the Shepherds and
others claimed their large tracts of terri-
tory, M'Donald proceeded to act as

236

The Mosquito Question,

[March,

he thought would best promote the ulti-
mate designs of Great Britain. And,
strange to say, the British Government
pretends to regard this document as legal
and binding, at the same time it sets aside
all others executed by the same savage !

As observed by a Spanish reviewer, the
events which followed were better becom-
ing the pen of Charivari or Punch than that
of history. Perhaps villainy and fraud never
assumed a more ludicrous garb, than in the
subsequent transactions of M'Donald and
his associates.

Of course the Jamaica traders, in their
new character of sovereigns, were not slow
in improving the advantages of their new
position. They sub- divided their terri-
tories, converting their titles into a sort of
transmissible paper, which was negotiated
not only in Jamaica and Belize, but also
on the 'Change of London. The credit of
this paper was, of course, not very high
with those who stopped to inquire into its
origin ; and the standing of the Mosquito
monarch among the potentates of the world
was not particularly calculated to inspire
confidence. But nevertheless, a consider-
able number of British subjects became in-
volved in the speculation, and talked much
of the Isthmus of Nicaragua, with its Ori-
ental coasts and the probability of the Eng-
lish Government extending its power over it,
of the opening of a ship canal, and the im-
mense value of the lands on the banks of the
San Juan, &c., &c.

Indeed, so far was the delusion carried,
that a large sale of the granted lands was
sold to a Prussian company, which pro-
ceeded to establish a colony upon the
coast, at the mouth of Bluefields river,
where a shattered remnant still lingers, the
miserable victims of fraud.

M'Donald was beset with difficulties.
If the claims of the Jamaica traders were
recognised and protected on the ground of
the proprietors being British subjects, then
their subsequent sales were valid, and half
the grants were already sold to Prussia,
including the mouth of the river of San Juan !
This could not be : it would practically de-
feat the ultimate designs of the Govern-
ment. There was but one course left,
namehj^ to •procure the revocation of the
grants I

But the influence of the Jamaica traders
was too great to be encountered at once.

They were left for a second blow ; and the
king, although adhering to his own grants
and those of his father, was willing to annul
those granted by his royal ancestors pre-
viously. A Mr. Walker, better known on
the coast as " Pat Walker," who was sec-
retary to M'Donald, proceeded to Mos-
quito soon after, and succeeded in getting
the signature of the king to the following
document :

REVOCATION, NO. I.

Inasmuch as we and our late predecessor,
George Frederic, have been accustomed to
make grants of lands to British subjects in
our dominions, for the purposes and with
the view of cultivating and promoting the
colonization of the rich and fertile soil of
our coasts, in virtue of which cessions se-
veral British subjects and agricultural com-
panies have taken possession and com-
menced the colonization of said lands ; and,
inasmuch, as we have just received infor-
mation of certain pretenders of distinct
lands of our territories, in virtue of cessions
made by our predecessors, which lands
have not been cultivated nor their posses-
sion conserved by any agent, &c., and now
a period of more than half a century having
passed away, the holders of our cessions
and those made by our unmediate prede-
cessor having made great expenses to
commence the colonization of said cessions :

Therefore, be it known, for the satis-
faction of the holders of our cessions and
of those made by our predecessor, George
Frederic, that we annul and make of no
value all the anterior cessions to those made
by our predecessor, in virtue of said an-
terior cessions having become extinct, ac-
cording to the laws of England, by which
we govern ourselves absolutely in all what
concerns real estate, and as no possession
has been taken of said cessions of lands,
and they have not been reclaimed at a due
time, &c. &c. Cape Gracias a Dios, May
23, 1841. (Signed)

Robert Charles Frederic

Not long after, the " King" had the
consideration to die. M'Donald, as " i2e-
gent^'''' could now act as he pleased. With
the aid of his factotum Walker, the follow-
ing document was issued, in the name of
the sambo boy, " George William Clar-
ence ^''^ the heir of the " Mosquito King-
dom."

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

237

REVOCATION, NO. II.

Inasmuch, as it is notorious, that almost
all the cessions of land made in the king-
dom of Mosquito, and, probably, all of
them have been improperly obtained from
the late king, that no equivalent whatever
for them, nor the promised services have
been lent ; and, inasmuch as many of the
cessionaries have obtained said cessions from
the late king when he was not in his sound,
judgment^ (i. e. drunk*) and as said ces-
sions despoil the successor of the late king
of territorial jurisdiction in his kingdom,
and of his hereditary rights ; and, inas-
much as said cessionaries have obtained
said cessions, not for the purposes of the co-
lonization and improvement of the country,
but merely to speculate with them in Lon-
don and other places :

And, whereas, the greater part of said
cession is actually in the possession of poor
insolvent men and in i-eal distress, said
cessionaries never having fulfilled their
duty of occupying said lands, though the
most recent of said cessions bears date of
July 27, 1841 ; and as the acknowledge-
ment of the validity of said cessions would
be subversive of the just rights of the pre-
sent king, and destructive of the interests
of the country, and may cause to the de-
ceived emigrants greater sufferings even
than those that hitherto they have experien-
ced— Therefore^ it is necessary^ and con-
venient for the security^ honor ^ and wel-
fare of this kingdom that said cessions he
annulled and abolished.

Be it thereupon decreed, that said con-
cessions and titles of lands agreed and ob-
tained previous to the 8th of October 1841,
are forever annulled and abolished, &c.
&c. (Signed)

George William Clarence.

It was most undutiful to hint at the
weakness of his father, but then the little

* As an evidence of the high regard whicli the
Englisli ot Jamaica had for their own creatures
as well as for their high character, it may be
mentioned, that the "monarch" was a great
drunkard, and very brutal in his habits. He
was several times confined in the public jail of
Jamaica for his disorders.

His Sottish Majesty, it is said, was induced to
sign his celebrated " will '' by the promis3 of a
hogshead of rum !

sambo, ^'' George William Clarence,'''' knevf
nothing of all this. The entire procedure
being designed by M'Donald to eifoct the
objects which we have already indicated,
the absolute absorption of the country by
Great Britain. By this bold stroke, M'Don-
ald got rid alike of the Prussians and the
Jamaica traders. They stood in the way
of the designs of the British Government,
and were sacrificed. The Princess Agnes
should have succeeded to the " crown," by
the Engli-sh law, but she had been too
long with those in the Spanish interest to
be trusted ; and, by the decree of M 'Don-
ald, the successor was fixed in the male
line ! M'Donald was competent to any-
thing !

The young " Princes" confided to oNI'Don-
ald, were taken to England, with the ex-
ception of George William, who was left
in the care of Mr. Walker, now promoted
from the secretaryship of the Belize to be
universal director, commissioner, agent,
tutor and adviser of " His Mosquito Ma-
jesty," and particu.larly entrusted with the
care of British interests. He established
himself at Bluefields, where he acted pre-
cisely as he pleased, under liberal verbal if
not written powers from the British Go-
vernment. The plans of the British Govern-
ment were not yet ripe for consummation.
Meantime, Walker exerted himself in ex-
citing the avarice of the English people.
The stories of the speculators of 1771 were
revived, and the flaring accounts of the
ousted Jamaica traders duly sworn to.
The importance of the country in a com-
mercial point of view, its resources and
capabilities, all that could excite the cupid-
ity of the English public, were made the
themes of the newspapers of Great Brit-
ain. The prospective canal across the con-
tinent was hinted at, but for obvious reasons,
not dwelt upon with so much unction.

While all this was transpiring, the Cen-
tral American States, to whom the territory
of right belonged, were so much absorbed
by their internal dissensions, carefully fo-
mented by M 'Donald's and Walker's co-
adjutors in Guatemala and elsewhere, that
they were little able to give attention to
the encroachments that were going on.
Morazan, the last and best President of the
Republic, saw, however, the danger, and
refused to enter into any treaty arrange-
ments with Great Britain, until she should

288

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

cease tampering with the Indians on the
coast. We have the means of knowing
that it was one of his designs, as soon as
internal order could be restored, to drive
out the intruders by force. This was not
unknown to the British Government, which
hesitated to break openly with the Repub-
lic. It was not until that Repubhc was
dissolved, and the individual States them-
selves weakened by conflicts with each
other, the consummation which had so long
been wished for, and for which its unscru-
pulous agents had so long labored, that the
British Government disdained a disguise no
longer necessary.

In 1838, after Nicaragua had organized
itself as an independent State, the Con-
sul-General in Central America, Mr. Chat-
field, the worthy co-laborer of Walker and
M'Donald, transmitted a communication
to the Government of Nicaragua, saying
"he had received information that the Go-
vernment of Nicaragua intended to dispose
of certain lands belonging to the Mosquitos'
on the Northern (Atlantic) coast ; that the
Mosquitos were a nation formally recognized
by H. B. M., and that she could not view
with indifference any attempts which Ni-
caragua might make to dispose of these
lands." The Government replied that it
had no such intention, but that if it had,
it was a matter which did not concern the
British Consul-General, as the Mosquito
coast belonged to the State of Central
America. Some other correspondence passed
but of no special importance. Nothing
further was said until af*er the will of
" Robert Charles Frederic" was procured
and his grants annulled, when on the 10th
of November 1841, M'Donald addressed a
letter to the Nicaraguan Government, sta-
ting, "that the British Government had de-
termined to maintain its ancient relations
with its ally the King of the Mosquitos,
whom it recognized as an independent sov-
ereign," and proposing that a Commis-
sioner should be named to settle the terri-
torial limits between the " Kingdom of
Mosquito" and the Republic of Nicaragua,
and stating also, that, for this purpose, he
had named Patrick Walker and Richard
Hervey. The Government of Nicaragua re-
plied that it knew no " Mosquito kingdom,"
that the wandering Indians living on the
coast of Nicaragua were under the sov-
ereignty of the Republic, and that it

would be soon enough to enter into any
communication with the gentlemen named
when they should present any credentials
from H. B. M., authorizing them to enter
into such relations with the States of Ceii-
tral America, together with authentic eo-
pies of the treaties of alliance which was
said to exist between Great Britain and the
Mosquito tribe. To this, M'Donald made
no reply. The Consul-General too, was
suddenly silent.

The cause of this silence may be ex-
plained in a few words. In the flush of
his new dignity, conferred by the " King
of Mosquito" and with a loyal desire to vin-
dicate " His Majesty's rights," M'Donald,
in the preceding July, had placed himself
on board a British vessel of war at Belize,
and started on an exploring expedition
along the Mosquito shore. He visited
Boca del Toro and other points at the South-
ward, but seeing but a poor prospect of in-
ducing the citizens of New Granada oc-
cupying the first place to quit it, he return-
ed with much chagrin, and stopped at San
Juan. Here he attempted to play the sov-
ereign, but Vi^as resisted by the collector
of the customs of that port. Colonel
M'Quijano, upon which he seized that offi-
cer, carried him on board his vessel, and
set sail from the port. He subsequently
seems to have regarded the step as very
rash, and offered to set Quijano at liberty,
upon his signing certain documents. The
proceeding roused great indignation through-
out Central America, and each State de-
manded a complete disavowal of the act. In
fact it was regarded as of so flagrant a nature,
and roused so strong a feeling of patriotism,
that a correspondence was at once opened
and preliminary measures taken for a con-
solidation of the States. This alarmed the
British Agents ; the folly of M'Donald came
near overturning their long cherished plans ;
the Republic which they had labored to
overthrow might rise again with new
strength. So M'Donald made a lame ex-
cuse for his act, and all reference to Mos-
quito rights was carefully avoided until the
roused spirit of the people was again laid,
and until British intrigues had again invol-
ved them in civil war.

When internal hostilities had commenced
in 1844, and the capital of Nicaragua was.
invested by an army, the British Consul-
General addressed a circular to the various

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

239

States, advising them that Her Majesty,
Queen Victoria, continued to protect her
ancient ally the Kingof Mosquito, and that
in order to preserve legitimate authority,
promote order, &c. &c , she had named
Mr. Walker, resident Consul on that coast.
On the 10th of July, in that year, this wor-
thy arrived in a British vessel of war at
Bluefields, with his royal charge and one
James Bell, appointed to act as sheriflF and
commander during the minority of the re-
gal boy ! He commenced his administra-
tion, and on the 12th of August addressed
a letter to the Nicaraguan Government,
stating that the subjects of the Mosquito
King were interrupted in their lawful busi-
ness of gathering turtle-shells, by the
occupation of the port of San Juan, and
other points by the people of Nicaragua !
and adding, that the establishments of Ni-
caragua and Costa Rica upon the coast,
were infractions of Mosquito rights. On
the 16th of the same month, Mr. Sheriif
Bell sent a protest against the occupation
of the Port of San Juan by Nicaragua. In
May 'of the following year, the Consul-
General, Mr. Chatfield, announced the
important fact, that the young sambo,
George William, had been "crowned" at
Belize, and repeated again that Great Bri-
tain had determined to protect her " ancient
aUy."

Upon the 25th of September of the same
year, Mr. Marcelota, the Charge d'Aifaires
of Nicaragua, addressed an able letter to

Lord Aberdeen, principal Secretary of State
of Great Britain, calling his attention to the
high-handed proceedings of Walker and
his associates, and informing him that the
port of Bluefields, where that worthy had
established himself, belonged to Nicaragua.
He appealed to the sense of justice of the
British Government, just as though any
such appeal, unless backed by a thousand
cannon, could have any weight ; Justice
forsooth! Was not the history of India
and China before him .? As might have
been expected, no answer was returned to
this communication. In the same year,
Don Francisco Castellon was sent Minister
to England, with directions to bring the in-
fractions on Nicaraguan rights before the
British Government in person, and parti-
cularly to protest against the occupation of
Bluefields by Walker, backed by the name
and military force of Jamaica. He was
received at London, but no attention what-
ever was paid to his representations.

Meantime, the clouds of war between
the United States and Mexico were gather-
ing.

The English Cabinet feared the result,
and directed all its efforts to secure Cali-
fornia from Mexico, or prevent its falling
into the hands of the United States. The
affairs of Central America were for a time
neglected, much to the tribulation of Wal-
ker and Chatfield, who, nevertheless, neg-
lected no effort to perfect their plans

CHAPTER in.

THE SEIZURE OF SAN JUAN WAR ON NICARAGUA.

Such appears to have been the actual
condition of things up to 1846, when af-
fairs were ripe for the consummation of the
grand felony which had been so long con-
templated. Our account of the events
which followed, is compiled chiefly from
the official correspondence upon the sub-
ject of the " Mosquito territory," published
by order of Parliament in the autumn of
1848, and comprised in a large folio docu-

ment of 150 pages. It is, of course, to be
understood that such portions only of the
correspondence are published as could be
presented " without detriment to the pub-
lic interests," in which category do not
fall those more confidential passages which
might disclose the real motives and inten-
tions of the Government. But enough ap-
pears to show by what moral standards the
British Government guages its actions in

240

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

questions in which its interests are supposed
to be involved.

English intrigues had failed in Mexico,
and it was clear that California would go
to the United States. The contemplated
aggressions in Central America were in-
vested with new importance. The passes
across the continent must be put under
English control. Nothing could be done
with Panama ; New Grenada was a power
too considerable to be trifled with , Eng-
land feared to create another Rosas.

It was under these circumstances, that
the British Government determined that
the time for action had come ; and that now
it must appear in its proper character.
Accordingly, on the 20th of June, 1847,
Viscount Palmerston addressed a note to
Mr. Chatfield, " Her Majesty's Consul-
General" in Guatemala, requesting the
most authentic information which he might
be able to procure " as to the boundary
claimed by the King of Mosquito," and
concluding with the significant paragraph :
" You will also report what, in your
opinion^ is the line oj boundary tvhich
Her Majesfy''s Government should insist
upon^ as absolutely essential for the secu-
rity and well-being oJ the Mosquito
shore."

A similar letter was at the same time
addressed to Mr. Walker, " Her Majesty's
Consul-General" in Mosquitia, and to Mr.
O'Leary, British Charge d'' Affaires in
New Grenada.

Pending the reception of the information
here requested, and impatient of delays
which might interfere with its purposes, the
British Government applied itself to the
task of searching for additional pretexts to
justify the contemplated usurpation. And
upon the 30th June of the same year, Vis-
count Palmerston again wrote to Mr.
Chatfield saying, that " Her Majesty's
Government have carefully examined the
various documents and historical records
which exist relative to this subject, and
they are of the opinion that the right of the
King of Mosquito should be maintained as
extending from Cape Honduras down to
the mouth of the river of San Juan."

It will be observed that Palmerston does
not yet venture to say that the rights of
the pretended king really extend or have
the shadow of validity over the territory
indicated; he is of the decided opinion, |

however, that they " should be maintain-
ed'''' to that extent ! This letter concludes
by instructing Mr. Chatfield to inform the
respective Central American Governments
of the opinion arrived at by Her Majesty's
Government, " and to inform them that it
would not view with indifference any at-
tempts to encroach upon the rights or ter-
ritory of the King of Mosquito, who is un-
der the protection of the British Crown."
Similar instructions were sent to Mr.
O'Leary, at Bogota, and to Mr. Walker,
the peripatetic agent of Great Britain " aU.
along shore."

In the mean time, Mr. Chatfield had
been at work in making out a case for his
government, and the results of his labors
had been received at the foreign ofiice eight
days after these instructions had been dis-
patched. Mr. Chatfield's letter is not
deficient in characteristic and impudent
assumptions, but he was nevertheless com-
pelled to say, that " nothing had reached
him to enable him to state positively, what
is the line of boundary claimed by the
Mosquito King!" Mr. Chatfield was, no
doubt, quite right, for it is exceedingly
doubtful whether the august personage re-
ferred to had any idea of boundary or any
thing else, beyond the instructions of the
agents of Great Britain around him. The
communication was chiefly taken up with
a discussion of the claims of the Govern-
ment of New Grenada to the whole coast
from Veragua to Cape Gracias a Dios,
which claims ware founded on a royil or-
der of San Lorenzo, of Nov. 20, 1803, —
separating for military purposes this section
of coast, together with the island of St.
Andrew, from the Captaincy General of
Guatemala, and annexing it to the Vice
Royalty of Sante Fe, Mr. Chatfield,
however, adds, that he is unable to give a
specific reply to the questions which had
been propounded ; but, as respects the
southern boundary of Mosquitia, he finds
among his notes, " An act of allegiance to
the Hereditary Prince Frederic, (crowned
at Belize, ISth Jan., 1816, eldest son of
the former King, George, and brother to
Robert Charles Frederic, crowned in Be-
lize, 23d April, 1825, lately deceased),
signed by Prince Stephen, Prince Regent,
and the chiefs and people of the Mosquito
coast, at Woolang, 14th Nov., 1815,"
which said act, according to Mr. Chatfield,

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

241

describes the southern Mosquito shore as
" comprising the several townships from
Wanks river to Boca del Toro." Now,
as this " act" was drawn up by British
agents, and was subscribed " Mr. William
Boggs," proxy for the dignitaries named
in it, it must be regarded as not strikingly
conclusive, and of a kind of "historic
evidence," a talent for the manufacture of
which would only need a little different
direction, (in countries where " conspira-
cies" and " fraud" are crimes,) to consign
its possessor to the penitentiary ! This,
and a letter from Col. M'Donald, to the
custom-house officer of New Grenada at
Boca del Toro, dated 1S41, with an extract
from the narration of Roberts, an English
trader on the coast, and which are wholly
immaterial, constituted the "historic evi-
dence" obtained by the British Govern-
ment, through Mr. Chatfield, in support of
contemplated felony. In respect to the
other part of Palmerston's inquiry, Mr.
Chatfield is more positive, and it is his
decided " opinion''' that " the line of
boundary which Her Majesty's Govern-
ment should insist upon as essential to the
well-being of the Mosquito State, is that
tract of sea-board situated between the
right bank of the river Roman, where
several English mahogany works are es-
tablished, and the left bank of the river
San Juan," and as the river Roman, (upon
the right bank of which British adventurers
had "squatted,") is a long stream, and
extends far into the interior, including, with
the other lines named, half of the continent
at this point, as also some of the inhabited
districts of Segovia, we do not wonder that
Mr. Chatfield drops the name of coast,
which conveys a circumscribed idea, and
substitutes state, which is limitless in its
acceptation. But Mr. Chatfield does not
stop with a mere expression of this opinion ;
he adds : Moreover, looking at theprohahJe
destinies of these countries, considerable
advantages might accrue in after tiines,
by reserving for settlement with Central
America, or Costa Rica, the rights of Mos-
quito BEYOND the San Juan river ! In the
meanwhile,'''' he continues, " considerable
benefit would result to British interests
from the early assertion of the rights of
the Mosquito King to the terminus indi-
cated." We shall soon see that these hints
were not lost upon Her Majesty's Govern-

ment, who received new " historic and
other evidence," as the Mormon leader
did revelations from heaven, whenever 'it
was convenient.

We have said that Mr. Walker was in-
structed to report such " historical and
other evidence" as was within his reach.
It would have been impossible for the Bri-
tish Government to have found a 7iiore
convenient instrument for its purposes, than
this man Walker. He was always at hand
to supply the vacancies left by Mr. Chat-
field, and does not appear to have been
troubled with conscientious scruples. Nor
did he wait for the suggestions of his su-
periors ; his evidence was always ready.
Without his invaluable aid, the Mosquito
King might have lived and died in total
ignorance of his " clear rights," and the
British nation lost an " ally." He under-
stood the art of manufacturing " historical
and other evidence," and might, if required
have made out a clear title for the Khig of
IVIosquito, to the coast of Florida. His
answer is very long, and particular stress
is laid upon a paper signed by " M.Quijano"
who was in 1841 Nicaraguan Command-
ant at San Juan. This individual was
seized at that port, as we have before said,
carried on board a British vessel, mal-treat-
ed, and finally induced, by an offer of liber-
ation, to sign a paper to the effect that,
when he was a child, his mother, who had
a plantation upon the coast of Costa Rica,
annually gave a quantity of cacao to the
roving Mosquito Indians, which cacao Mr.
Walker calls tribute, and deduces there-
from sweeping pretensions of sovereignty !
By a parity of reasoning, the entire United
States is tributary to Split foot, chief of
the Pottowattamies ! The Commandante
was liberated upon signing this paper, which
was at once filed away as invaluable " his-
toric evidence !" The circumstance that
Honduras once made some kind of a treaty
with the Indians, is also quoted with a pro-
digious flourish as a recognition of the sov-
ereignty of the serene " King of Mosquito!"
We have made a treaty with the Chinoohs ;
does the Government of Great Britain
therefore regard the chief of that tribe as a
sovereign } Perhaps she would like to
make him her " ally," and get possession
of the mouth of the Columbia .' Let her
try the experiment ! And further, that a
Guatmalean officer once carried a chief from

242

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

the Mosquito shore to that capital, who
was received with great respect, is also of
great moment in Mr. Walker's estimation.
Whether they took his portrait and gave
him a cocked hat and sword, as we are ac-
customed to do at Washington, when sa-
vage chiefs are brought there, we are not ad-
vised ; but no doubt they gave him an abun-
dance of " aqtca ardiente^'''' which judging
from what we know of the tastes of the
royal line of Mosquitia, male and female,
must have been more acceptable ! It may
be thought undignified to talk in this strain,
in the pages of a respectable periodical !
What then must be thought of a parliament-
ary document containing such stuff as we
have referred to, issued too by way of sup-
porting one of the gravest measures which
any Government has seen fit to adopt
within this century, and one which involves
the highest principles of international right.?
The remaining documents presented by
Mr. Walker prove two things : that there
was a certain extent of the eastern shore of
Central America which was called the
" Mosquito shore," but which no two
authorities concurred in defining, and which
was used as a geographical designation,
without the slightest reference to sovereign-
ty or jurisdiction ; and second, that from
before 1830 downwards, the British agents
in Central America, had attempted by vari-
ous acts, professedly under Mosquito autho-
rity, to acquire some shadow of claun to
various parts of the Atlantic coast, from
Cape Honduras to Veragua. The impu-
dence of quoting the assertions of British
officers, who at the time of writmg were
taking the initiatives to their prospective
usurpation, as '■'■historical evidence,''^ is
wonderfully cool, and entirely in keeping
with the spirit of the whole procedure from
the start. Mr. Walker concludes his letter,
not as Mr. Chatfield had done, with a mo-
dest reservation which might be "useful
hereafter" in perfecting and securing the
ultimate objects of the felony, but which it
would hardly do to put forward at this time ;
Mr. Walker, we say, concludes his letter
with the unqualified assertion that the rights
of the King of Mosquito extend from Cape
Honduras to Veragua, upon a line which
he traces so as to include half of Honduras,
more than half of Nicaragua, and an equal
portion of Costa Rica ! He observes, also,
very naively, that " he believes" the Span-

iards "never paid any tribute for the pri-
vilege of erecting a fort and custom-house
at San Juan ;" he even thinks they never
obtained the leave of the Mosquito King to
do so !

The document next in order, is a letter
from Mr. O'Leary, British Charge at Bo-
gota. He thinks the New Grenada claim
to the territory in question better than that
of Central America, and observes " that as
New Grenada has no settlement between
Boca del Toro and San Juan, she would
probably gladly accept that river as the
north-west boundary of her territories ; and
looking at the map the river San Juan,
would seem to afford the King of Mosquito
a distinct and secure boundary on that
frontier. But," he continued, in the strain
of Mr. Chatfield's concluding paragraphs,
" the extent and importance of the coast
situated between the mouth of the San
Juan and Chiriqui Lagoon, cannot be o?;er-
looJced ;'''' and adds, " that if the pretensions
of the King of Mosquito to this part of the
coast could be maintained, the Chiriqui
Lagoon^ which affords safe anrliorage^
would likewise form a secure frontier !"
The circumstance of " safe anchorage"
and good harbors, must have been of high
importance in connection with the preten-
sions of the Mosquito King ; regard for the
Mosquito marine must certainly have been
at the bottom of the suggestion ! Mr.
O'Leary concludes by suggesting "the ex-
pediency of setting the whole question at
rest by means of a negotiation with New
Grenada.

Thus much for correspondence and the
travail of collecting " historical evidence."
We now come to action. On the 1st of
September of the same year, (1847,)
Mr. Walker addressed an impudent letter
upon an unimportant matter to the Com-
mandant at San Juan, which concludes
with the following paragraph : — " I think
it fair to tell you, as until now you can
hardly have received the information, that
Mr. Chatfield, H. B. M. Consul-General
in Central America, has received instruc-
tions to point out to the several States the
boundary which the British Government
has determined to maintain, in right of the
King of Mosquito, and this boundary com-
prehends the San Juan river." This let-
ter was sent by the cutter " »Smm," com-
manded by Captain Watson, and bearing

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

243

the/rt^ of the " Mosquito nation." The
design of this display is obvious. The Com-
mandant of the port, under date of Sep-
tember 6th, replied civilly to Walker's note,
concluding as follows : " I appreciate as it
deserves, the friendly notice which you have
given me as to the particular protection
which the British Crown is disposed to
afford to the Mosquito nation ; but without
entering into the question of its legitimacy
or of its territorial limits, which is the pro-
vince of the Governments, I can only
obey the orders of my superiors." At the
same time this officer addressed a note to
the commander of the cutter, saying that,
" although he had already informed him
that the flag which he bore was not recog-
nized, and that he had told him to take it
down or leave the port, &c., yet out of
considerations of politeness he would allow
him to remain in the harbor until he had
executed his commission of receiving the
letters of the expected steamer. He, never-
theless, informed him that the vessel could
not again enter the harbor under the flag
it bore, unless it had express permission
from the Nicaraguan Government.

On the 24th of Nov. the Rt. Hon. E. J.
Stanley, of the Foreign office, addressed a
note to the Secretary of the Admiralty,
stating that he was informed by Mr.
Walker, "that the Commandant acting for
the Nicaraguan Government, at the mouth
of the San Juan river, had expressed his
determination not to acknowledge the flag
or territorial rights of the Mosquito King-
dom," and suggests that the commanders of
any ships of war which may be in that quar-
ter be instructed to communicate with
Mr. Walker, "as to the best manner in
which to resist the pretensions of the Nic-
araguan Commandant," and establishing
the Mosquito authorities at the mouth of
the San Juan. On the 1st of September,
however, Mr. Chatfield addressed his circu-
lar, in accordance with his instructions of
January 30, to the Governments of Hon-
duras and Nicaragua, and next day he
wrote to Palmerston, informing him of
what he had done, and adding, "I have
taken the precaution of inserting the words,
' without prejudice to the rights of the
Mosquito King to any territory south of
the river San Juan.'' "

We may here anticipate events a little,
and notice briefly the replies of the Gov-

ernments of Nicaragua and Honduras to
Mr. Chatfield's circular. They are not
deficient in argument or force, and the
subjoined extracts will be read with interest.
The Secretary of Foreign Relations of
Nicaragua, Don Sebastian Salinas, ac-
knowledges the receipt of Mr. Chatfield's
circular, notes its contents, and adds :

"You know, Sir, very well, that the estab-
lished practice for a society which considers
itself capable of assuming the rank of a na-
tion, to obtain its recognition as such, is, to
solicit through its chief, his ministers or direct
accredited agents, the recognition of estab-
lished States ; but this rule of international
law, has in no way been complied with by the
pretended king of Mosquito, who now assumes
to raise questions of boundary with Nicaragua.
This Government has not recognized and does
not now recognize such a kingdom as ' Mos-
quito,' much less the territorial pretensions of
which you speak. No such king has existed
or now exists. It is preposterous, Sir, that a
few savages wandering in the forests and
wastes on the coasts of Honduras and Nicar-
agua, living by the chase and fishing, without
houses, without a known language, without
written characters, without arts, laws, or re-
ligion, without any of the elements which,
according to received principles, are necessary
to a national existence, — that such a horde of
savages should profess to constitute a regular
society, or what is more an Empire !

" We are not ignorant of the fact that cer-
tain British subjects, under favor of the adja-
cent settlements of the Belize and Jamaica,
have attempted to fix themselves in our soil,
associating with the Mosquitos, and causing
the son of some favored family, to be educated
to their fashion, and thus preparing an instru-
ment to secure their designs, under the title of
' King.' This fantastic personage has not, and
cannot be presented to the civilization of the
nineteenth century, nor make himself acknowl-
edged by neighboring or other nations ; such
an act, would be an admission of the right of
the savage hordes which exist in different parts
of the w^orld, to form kingdoms under the
protection of other Governments, and put
themselves in comparison (en paragon) with
civilized states ; thus placing limits on civiliza-
tion, and licensing universal disorders.

" Subjects and agents of Her Brittannic
Majesty are the only persons who have an-
nounced and proclaimed the leader of this tribe
as a Sovereign, and an ally of the English
Government: but none of these agents has
])resented, or has been able to present to any
Government of Central America, credentials
of his appearing to be a real and direct agent
of the suppositious King of Mosquito ; neither

244

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

has Great Britain herself accredited a Charge
d' Affaires to these Governments, who might
have moved these questions of sovereignly,
territory, and appropriation of a Port ac-
knowledged by the whole world as the proper-
ty of the sovereign State of Nicaragua. If these
new pretensions are well-founded, and the
Port of San Juan does not belong to Nicara-
gua, how comes it that the Government of Her
Britannic Majesty ordered a blockade of that
port by Vice Admiral Sir Charles Adams in
the year 1.S42, in order to enforce the pay-
ment of $14,000, claimed of this Government
by British subjects 1"

The Secretary then goes on to protest
against these pretensions in a strain of
mingled eloquence and irony, asserting that
" Nicaragua will disallow, resist and repel
with the force of justice and all her strength,
even to the extent of disappearing from the
face of the earth, the encroachments with
which she is threatened, and before ob-
scure barbarians shall snatch away from
her a property which, according to the
great boundaries of nature, sanctioned by
laws, international right, and immemorial
possession, belongs to her alone. Thus,"
he concludes, "my Government solemnly
protests. It will denounce the spoliations
with which it is menaced before all the
Governments of civilized nations ; and the
world will see how the ambition of a few
British subjects darkens the enlightened
minds of the Cabinet of Her Britannic Ma-
jesty, even to the point of placing the august
Queen Victoria as an equal by the side of
a despicable savage !"

The answer of Gen. Guardiola, on be-
half of Honduras, is shorter but equally to
the point. He says : • t ,

"■ It has been repeatedly demonstrated that
the pretended king of Mosquito, recognized
as such by the British Government alone,
wants the smallest shadow of dominion over
any part of the territory of Honduras ; and it
cannot, and ought not to be considered that the
vagrant tribe, called Moscos, should be regard-
ed as a nation.

" It is easy to see, from the hostile manner
in which it is intimated, that a claim will be
made on the territories of Honduras, that no
reasons will be heard, and that force alone
will terminate the dispute you have raised. It
is remarkable that the cabinet of St. James
arrogates the right of making claims, and put-
ting forward intimations, which, if its own pre-
tensions are to be credited, belong solely to

the savage chief of the Moscos, and who has
never been consulted respecting them !

" And it is equally worthy of notice, that
without attending to any of the means pre-
scribed by the law of nations, in reference to
a territory, at most disputable, force should be
resorted to, as if there were no reasons to be
heard, rights to be examined, forms to be ob-
served, and jealousies to be awakened. The
nations of America and Europe, Sir, will not
see with apathy, or indifference, this new sys-
tem of acquiring territories, — unknown, and
contrary to the usages between Governments.

" The Government of Honduras is weak,
and that of Great Britain is powerful, never-
theless, we shall make our rights known.
They will have the same importance as if
they were balanced between nations of equal
strength and resources. Therefore, my Gov-
ernment solemnly protests that it will use the
means, which all the world employs, to pre-
serve the integrity of its territory, and repel
aggression ; and you, and the British Govern-
ment must answer before heaven and earth for
the ills which the contest must produce, and
which you have provoked !"_^

To these eloquent protests Mr. Chat-
field thought proper to reply, by means of
a circular, brief and pointless, and only
worthy of notice from the following extra-
ordinary passages, which, if written in
earnest, imply the keenest impudence, or
the profoundest stupidity. He says :

" The position assumed by your Govern-
ment rests on a supposed hereditary right, de-
rived from Spain, to whom, it is alleged, as I
understand, that the Mosquito territory for-
merly belonged as part of the Spanish posses-
sions in America, it being assumed that the act
of expelling Spain from this continent, con-
ferred upon the States which expelled her, all
the sovereignty and rights which Spain is
considered to have enjoyed in it ! On an im-
partial consideration of this question, I am
convinced that you will perceive the fallacy of
such reasoning, and admit that no State
can justly claim to inherit rights, or territories,
from a nation, which does not recognize its
political existence !" Sapient Mr. Chatfield !

To return. Before Mr. Stanley's note
had been acted upon by the Secretary of
the Admiralty, His Majesty's ship of war,
" Alarm," commanded -by Capt. Gran-
ville G. Loch, whose name will now fre-
quently appear in this narrative, arrived off
Bluefields, on the Mosquito coast, where
it took on board Mr. Walker, and his
protege^ " the King." They proceeded

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

245

straightway to San Juan, where they ar-
rived on 26th Nov., when they informed
the Commandant that the King of Mos-
quito was on board, and that he must be
saluted, or the town would be fired on.
As this request was not complied with, an
armed party went on shore, and as there
was no efficient force to resist, run up the
Mosquito flag, fired a salute, and returned
on board, leaving the flag flying. This
dignified proceeding over, the " Alarm,"
and its precious freight, set sail for Jamai-
ca, where Mr. Walker wrote a garbled
statement of what had been done, to
Palmerston. It is a little singular, how-
ever, that in his account of this pro-
ceeding, he makes no mention of a subse-
quent one, which was not quite so success-
ful. In the flush of their triumph, Mr.
Walker, and the commander of the
" Alai-m," thought it would be a good
thing to go through the same performance
at Truxillo, the principal seaport of Hon-
duras. Perhaps, as this is a tolerable har-
bor, they thought it would be good also to
seize it for his Mosquito Majesty. So, in
proceeding to Jamaica, they made a detour
to this point. The " Alarm" was anchor-
ed in the harbor, the boats were duly
manned with armed men, and Mr. W^alker
and the commander went on shore. They
were met by the officer of the garrison,
whom they ordered to retire, with his men,
to the mouth of the river Aguan. The
Commandant declined to do anything of the
sort. Mr. Walker then told him that
" he should be obliged to eject him by
force," to which the Commandant replied
that " he had better try it," falling back,
and ordering his men to form, the call for
the militia to be sounded in the plaza, and
the guns of the castle to be brought to bear.
This was more than was bargained for.
Mr. Walker and his associates decamped
with all despatch, contenting themselves
with elevating the Mosquito flag on a desert
beach, outside the harbor.

Meantime the plot thickened, and, to
give some show of decency to then* pro-
ceedings, a grand imaginary Mosquito
council was held at Bluefields, the senior
member of which purported to be a Mr.
George Hodgson, which went through the
imaginary form of addressing a letter to the
Director of Nicaragua, giving him to the
first of January, within which to withdraw

the Nicaraguan establishment from San
Juan. Besides Mr. George Hodgson, there
were imagined to be present at the council :
" Hon. Alexander Hodgson, Hon. H. In-
gram, Hon. James Porter, Hon. John Dixon,
and Hon. James Green;" the last, her
British Majesty's Vice-Consul."*

The Government of Nicaragua had the
bad taste and worse policy to notice the
absurd document, and to reply that the
Nicaraguan establishment would not be re-
moved from San Juan, and that if forcible
measures were resorted to, force would be
used to repel the assault. Whereupon the
august imaginary councU was again conven-
ed, and the imaginary clerk (also a British
subject!) directed to make a reply, which
he did as follows, under date of Decem-
ber 8, 1847.

" The Council passes over in silence the
disrespectful tone of your letter, but directs
me to forward you copies of addresses which
His Majesty received on his recent visit to
Jamaica from the honorable the council and
house of assembly of that island ; and I am to
remind you that the civilized world knows
that, in point of rank, intelligence, independ-
ence and wealth, the public bodies of Jamai-
ca cannot be excelled in Nicaragua !"

This rare epistle concluded by saying
that the port of San Juan would be retaken
possession of (this reminds us oi reannex-
ation) by British and Mosqmto troops, on
the first of Janrary, j^rox. There was a
strange mixture of puerility, villainy and
low cunning in the proceedings of Walker
and his associates, which is probably with-
out a parallel in any similar transaction.

When the " Alarm" arrived at San Juan,
as before related, the Commandant of the
port made a formal protest against the pro-
ceedings of its officers. His language af-
fords a strange contrast to the highway tone
assumed by the British officials. He said "he
could not help deploring the attack which had
been made upon the rights of sovereignty and
the integrity of the free State of Nicaragua,
by the commander of Her Britannic Ma-
jesty's frigate " Alarm," and as under
present circumstances the State of Nicara-
gua wanted other means for the defence of

* Mr. Hodgson, " the senior counsellor," after-
wards testified that no such council was ever held,
and that he knew nothing of the business, until in-
formed of it, subsequently, when a prisoner in Ni-
caragua.

The whole was the work of Walker.

246

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

her rights than those of reason and justice,
sustained by the moral force of the civi-
lized world, he now remonstrated and pro-
tested against the proceedings of the com-
mander, solemnly and in the presence of
God and the world." The frigate, it is
proper to add, entered the port under Bri-
tish colors, and afterwards hoisted the so-
called Mosquito flag.

In the meantime, the Government of
Nicaragua, in consequence of the delay and
uncertainty attending the transmission of
communications from Leon to Guatemala,
the residence of the Consul-General, named
and empowered. Messrs. Duran and Lopez,
singly and jointly, to act as the commis-
sioners of the Government in Guatemala,
with a view to the adjustment of the dis-
putes which had arisen ; omitting, it will
thus be seen, no means to settle affairs in
a just and peaceful manner. But Mr. Chat-
field refused to have any communication
with these commissioners, and wrote to
Palmerston, under date of December 3d,
that, " independent of the unfitness of these
lawyers to entertain questions of this nature,
he conceived himself without authority to
discuss the right of Mosquito'to the mouth
of the river San Juan." Mr. Chatfield
had not forgotten the epistolary contests
he had been from time to time involved in
with the Nicaraguan " lawyers," and in
which, not less from the badness of his
cause, than his own incapacity, he had been
uniformly worsted. He concludes by in-
quiring what regulations shall be made for
the trade of the San Juan " after the oc-
cupation of the port by Mosquito."

The Nicaraguan Government still anx-
ious to adjust affairs amicably, then em-
powered the Guatemalean Minister of
ForeignAfiairs to act as their Commissioner.
But Mr. Chatfield answered that matters
had passed the period of negotiation. Still,
" out of deference" to the Minister, per-
sonally, he was willing to receive and trans-
mit to Her Majesty's Government, any
proposals or explanations which the Nicar-
aguan Government may desire to make on
the proceedings at San Juan : Her Ma-
jesty's Government being desirous that Ni-
caragua should feel assured that, in this
instance^ as in all others, its acts are based

on the BROADEST PRINCIPLES OF JUSTICE

AND EQUITY !" Admirable complacency!
Such was the state of things when the

Supreme Director of the State of Nicara-
gua, Don Jose Guerrera, issued a procla-
mation, from which we can only quote a
few paragraphs :

"Under favor of good feeling, the public
morality and the efficiency of the authoiities,
the agitations consequent upon our revolution,
and peculiar to the political infancy of every
country, have been calmed. The energies of
the State are directed to the improvement of
its resources, and the cultivation of peace,
friendship, commerce, and credit with all the
civilized nations. But now, under shadow
of the colossal tower of Great Britain, profes-
sing to stand first among civilized nations, our
rei)ose is disturbed and our prospects darkened,
by a scandalous attempt upon the integi ity of
the territory of our State. A fraction of our
population, the nomad tribe of Moscos, at
whose head has been placed an imbecile child,
with the title of " King," surrounded by native
ignorants and unprincipled foreign agents,
who direct every thing to their own liking,
has intimated to this Government its intention
of taking possession of the port of San Juan
through the aid of the British Government !"

The Director goes on to set forth the in-
disputable right of Nicaragua to the port
in question, in a clear and conclusive
manner, recounting in detail the agressions
which have been made, and continues :

" Thus is it that civil war is stirred up by
the savage against the civilized portion of Cen-
tral America ; thus it is attempted to wrest from
Nicaragua her only and best port upon the
north, possessed by her from time immemorial,
without dispute, and recognized by the acts of
Great Britain to be hers alone. * * *

"The loss of territory with which we are
threatened, will be but the precursor of other
and, if possible, more startling aggressions
upon the other States of Central America.
The moment has arrived for losing a country
with ignominy, or sacrificing with honor
the dearest treasures to preserve it. As regards
myself, if the force which menaces us sets
aside justice, I am resolved to be entombed in
the remains of Nicaragua, rather than survive
its ruin !"

We now return to the proceedings of
Mr. Walker and his new coadjutors. On
the 29th of December, the British war
steamer, " Fixew," Commander Ryder,
arrived at Bluefields, where it took on
board 65 men, Mr. Walker and the " Mos-,
quito Majesty" going on board the cutter
in attendance, and both vessels started for
San Juan, where they arrived on the 1st of
January. General Munoz, the Nicarag-
uan commander, had previously withdiawu

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

247

most of the Nicaraguan troops to the mouth
of the Serapiqui, thirty miles up the river
San Juan. The force left was wholly in-
adequate, and offered no resistance to the
landing of Walker and his followers. Ac-
cording to the official statement of this
worthy, he " landed with Captain Ryder
in his gig, the paddle bos boats of the
Vixen following with marines, soldiers, and
militia. Having formed in column, they
marched up to the flag-post, and facing
round displayed into line with great pre-
cision and correctness. The Nicaraguan
flag was immediately hauled down. The
Mosquito flag was then run up, and a royal
salute was fired while the King proceeded
from the cutter on shore !" The force then
preceded to oust the administrator of cus-
toms, who made a formal protest, and
" Major George Hodgson, Commodore
Little, and Captain Dixon, were severally
installed as Governor, Captain of the Port,
and Town-Major. Five men of the Blue-
fields Militia were selected to form a police
for maintaining order in the town." On
the 4th, the two vessels, with the Mos-
quito Majesty on board, returned to head
quarters at Bluefields.

On the 10th, a party of troops from the
station at Serapiqui came down the river
and turned the table on the new authorities,
taking the " Governor and Captain of the
Port" prisoners, greatly to their bodily fear,
but particularly to the terror of the " Gov-
ernor" whose name, as we have seen, was
appended to the impudent letter to the
Director of Nicaragua, instructing him to
withdraw the establishment at San Juan. It
is but just to this worthy, who was but an
instrument of Walker, to say, that he after-
wards solemnly declared that he never saw
this document, and that his name had been
forged by Walker.*

* The following passages, from the records of
Hodgson's examination, read over and attested by
him, will afford some insight to the proceedings
of Walker and his associates.

'' Being asked if he had signed the note pre-
sented to him and to which the name of " Geo.
Hodgson, senior, counsellor. &c.'' was appended,
dated Bluefields, 25th October, and notifying the
Director to withdraw the Nicaraguan establish-
ment at San Juan, he answered :

" He had examined said note and that the sig-
nature of '' George Hodgson" was not his, that he
was not in Bluefields at that date, and consequent-
ly could not have signed it.

It was now the turn of the other side to
protest, which task was undertaken by
Captain Ryder, and performed with a very
bad grace. He expressed his belief that
" the proceeding would be considered by
the military and naval authorities ai Jamai-
ca as a declaration of war against the Queen
of England and the King of Mosquito."
So Captain Ryder set sail for Jamaica to
procure counsel and reinforcements, and
bearing most urgent letters from Mr.
Walker. Captain Ryder made his report,
and Captain Loch's ship " Alarm," with
the "Vixen," bearing a considerable force,
were detailed to return to the theatre of
operations. They arrived at Bluefields on
the 5th, and on the 8th at San Juan. The
Nicaraguan force overpowered by numbers,
withdrew to Serapiqui, where, in the dense
untenanted forest, unprotected by dwellings
of any kind, they had constructed a rude
breastwork of earth and logs. The posi-
tion was a very good one, and in the hands
of experienced troops capable of easy de-
fence. Here the Nicaraguans had collect-
ed about 120 men, some, former residents

" Being asked in whose writing the note ap-
peared and by whom signed, he said : —

"•The body of the note is the hand-writing of
Mr. W. Scott, Secretary of Mr. Walker, and that
the signature is in Mr. Walker^s hand-writing ''

To other inquiries he answered that he had
never seen or heard of the notes which had been
addressed to the Government of Nicaragua.

"Being asked if the occupation of San Juan
had been ordered by the person called " Kin'' of
Mosquito,'' he said : °

" The King is without the mental capacity to
dictate this measure or any other. That Mr.
Walker has directed the whole affair; that he had
gone to Jamaica in December of the precedint^
year, and that, upon his return, had said, that the
Governor of Jamaica would send troops to takeSan
Juan, but that Bluefields should not be disturbed
and that when he, (Walker) started for San Juan
he invited him, (Hodgson) to go along, but not
to be alarmed, as it was merely a walk, (t. e.
pleasure trip) but if they (Hodgson and his coml
panions) had known the object they would not
have gone.

Mr. Hodgson also testified that he had on se-
veral occasions been compelled to sign his name
to documents presented to him, the nature of
which he did not understand. Also that he knew
nothing of" British Protection," only so far as ho
had been instructed by Mr. Walker I

The whole testimony is exceedingly amusing.
This Hodgson was claimed of the Nicarat^uan
Government as a British subject. He was, how-
ever, the grandson of Robert Hodgson, who aa
We have seen, was Colonel in the Spanish service I

248

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

of San Juan, and the principal part of the
remainder boatmen in the river, who had
volunteered their services. There were
but sis regular soldiers besides one or two
officers, who had before been stationed at
San Juan, among the entire number. They
had one or two rusty cannon, which they
did not know how to manage, and a varie-
gated assortment of old muskets and fowl-
ing pieces for arms. A large portion had
their Machetes^ a kind of long heavy knife
in common use in these countries. To dis-
lodge this force, and resent the insult which
had been given to Great Britain and Mos-
quito (! !)" by pulling down the Mosquito
flacf, the English troops, consisting of
260 picked men, under command of Cap-
tain Loch, accompanied by Mr. Walker,
embarked on the 11th. On the 12th
they reached the point, when after an ir-
regular contest, the English landed, put-
ting the Nicaraguans to flight. The Ni-
caraguan loss was reported by Captain
Loch, at 20 killed and double that number
wounded ; the English loss, 2 killed and
13 wounded. In the number, however,
Captain Loch does not include Mr. Walker
and a boon companion, who were report-
ed to have been " accidentally drowned."
Mr. Walker's body was found a week or
two after, with a bullet hole in the breast,
horribly mangled by alligators, and was
buried on the spot where it was discovered.
Thus terminated the career of one who had
been most active in the unworthy scheme
of fraud which we are relating ; and who,
if he ever possessed any sense of honor or
rectitude, sacrificed it promptly at the call
of men equally reckless with himself, but
too cautious or too cowardly to incur the
odium of their own measures, men, however,
whom history will not fail to consign to the
obloquy which they merit.

Having gone through the usual ceremony
of demolishing the works he had captured.
Captain Loch pressed forward to the ruined
fort of San Carlos at the head of the river,
of which he took possession, appropriating
twelve out of the sixteen houses to him-
self and his troops, and with true British
magnanimity, leaving the remaining four to
the inhabitants and prisoners. Here he es-
tablished himself, sending scouts along the
sparsely populated coast to collect provis-
ions. After a time he dispatched a Mr.
Martui to the city of Grenada, under a flag

of truce, with communications for the Ni-
caraguan Government. It is immaterial
to notice in detail the correspondence which
passed, and which had an overstrained air
of civility upon both sides. The Govern-
ment of Nicaragua declined to make any
apology for its proceedings at San Juan,
asserting that it had done only what was
right and proper, but consenting to deliver
the English prisoners, provided on the other
hand, the Nicaraguan prisoners were releas-
ed. It granted also a safe conduct to
Captain Loch, to enable him to approach
to some of the islands in the neighborhood
of Grenada, for the purpose of effecting
some pacific arrangement. This, that
officer was too glad to accept, for besides
the hopelessness of advancing upon the
populous side of the lake, sickness had al-
ready reduced his eff"ective force nearly one
fourth, and his men were compelled to sub-
sist on beef and plantains alone. Still like
a true Briton, he assumed the air of a
conqueror, and so well that he almost con-
vinced the Nicaraguans that he had them
completely in his power. The upshot of
the whole matter was the nomination of
S'rs Francisco Castellon, Juan Josee Za-
vala, and Jose Ma. Estrada as Commission-
ers, to settle affairs with Captain Loch.
They met at the island of Cuba, when
Captain Loch dictated the following extra-
ordinary articles :

1st. That the Nicaraguan Government sur-
render the persons of two British subjects,
Messrs. Little and G. Hodgson, taken prisoners
by the forces of the State of Nicaragua, on the
9th January 1848, from the port of San Juan,
and that they shall be delivered over to Cap-
tain Granville Gower Loch, in this island of
Cuba, within twelve hours from the ratification
of this treaty.

2d. That a Mosquito flag and other effects
taken on the same day and from the same
port, be restored without delay, and that a sa-
tisfactory explanation be given by the Nica-
raguan Government for the outrage that the
commandant of Her Majesty's forces conceives
to have been offered to the British flag, in
hauling down that of Mosquito under her pro-
tection.

Explanation. The Nicaraguan Govern-
ment were ignorant that the Mosquito flag
was so connected with that of England, as
that an outrage to it should involve an in-
sult to that of Great Britain. They are

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

249

most anxious to explain that so far from de-
siring to excite the anger of that power, it
is on the contrary their earnest wish to cul-
tivate the most intimate relations with it.

3d. That the Government of the State of
Nicaragua solemnly promise not to disturb
the peaceful inhabitants of San Juan, under-
standing that such an act will be considered
by Great Britain as an open declaration of
hostilities.

4th. That the tariff established in the port
of San Juan, upon the occupation of the 1st of
January, 1848, shall be considered in full force,
and that no JXicaraguan custom-house shall
be established in proximity to the said port of
San Juan, to the prejudices of its interests.

5th. That the British olficer in command
agrees to retire from Fort San Carlos to San
Juan with all the forces, delivering up the
hostages, prisoners, and effects now in his pos-
session, immediately after the fulfillment of
the various claims agreed upon in this treaty.
6th. What has been stipulated in this
agreement will not hinder the Government of
Nicaragua from soliciting, by means of a Com-
missioner to Her Britannic Majesty, a final ar-
rangement of these affairs.

Given under our hands at the Island of Cuba,
in Lake Nicaragua, this 7th day of March, in
the year of our Lord 1848.
(Signed)

Granville G. Loch.
(Signed)

Juan Jose Zavala.

Francisco Castellon.

Jose Ma. Estrada.

The Nicaraguans saved their pride by
refusing to acknowledge the existence of
what Lord Palmerston calls " Mosquito;"
but, nevertheless, put themselves in British
power, so far as any attempt to resume their
port at San Juan was concerned, and by
agreeing that all future negotiations must be
conducted in London, which is the amount
of the 6th article.

Accordingly, Capt. Loch returned with
his forces to San Juan, too glad to get
thus easily out of the difficulties in which he
had involved himself.

An emergency had arisen, in conse-
quence of the death of Mr. Walker, but
Capt. Loch was equal to it. He at once
wrote to the " King of Mosquito," that as
Mr. Walker was dead, he had named Dr.
Green to be his " principal and only coun-
sellor, until the pleasure of her Majesty's
Government was known." He also in-
structed him not to employ, in any man-
ner, Mr. Geo. Hodgson, in consequence of

the " unworthy evidence he had given to
the authorities of Nicaragua," — and thus
the " Senior Counsellorof Mosquito," and
late " Governor of San Juan," was laid on
the shelf. Capt. Loch next installed Capt.
Little, as Captain of the Port of San Juan,
and then set sail for Jamaica, to claim his
promotion.

When the news of these proceedings ar-
rived in England, the Right Hon.^E. J.
Stanley wrote to the Secretary of the Ad-
miralty, commending what had been done,
and adding :

"Her Majesty's Government are convinced
that the good eflects of this successful exploit
will not be confijied to the particular question
out of which it arose ; but the example thus
set of what the British navy can undertake
and accomplish, will materially assist in
bringing to a satisfactory settlement several
claims which Her Majesty's Government has
beenobliged to make upon some of the Gov-
ernments of South America, for redress of dam-
ages done to British subjects."

In the summer of the same year IMr.
W. C. Christy, at one time a Member of
Parliament, a Scotchman, and who, from
his suspected leaning towards the " opposi-
tion," it was thought best to '■'■provide
for,'''' or " dispose of,''* was sent out as
Her Majesty's Consul-General in Mosqui-
tia ; and the mantle of Mr. Walker fell
gracefully upon his shoulders. As there
were neither constitution nor laws, he took
absolute authority upon himself, and, dis-
daining the ridiculous formality of appear-
ing to consult the " Mosquito king," pro-
mulgated regulations, sold lands, and es-
tablished rates, under the seal and author-
ity of " Her Britannic Majesty." He
wrote letters for the Times, and the Jamai-
ca papers, abusive of the Central Ameri-
can States, and, in conformity with his in-
structions, proclaimed that the Mosquito
territory extended up the San Juan river,
as far as the Rio Serapiqui. The first ex-
citement of power over, he started on a
visit to Costa Rica, the Government of
which State, — raised to power by a pro-
nunciamento of the soldiers of the " Cuartel
General," — was entirely in the English in-
terest, if not English pay ; and where
General Flores, the absconding President
of Ecuador, — a notorious stipendiary of
England, — was residing. He was coldly
received by the people, but the Govern-

250

The Mosquito Qiiestion.

[March,

ment were in ecstacies, in consequence of
his condescension ; treated him to dinners ;
and, in a paroxysm of joy and wine, the
chief, Castro, " regretted that he had not
a daughter, so that, after the manner of
monarchial Europe, he might firmly cement
the union between the reigning houses of
Mosquito and Costa Rica !"

The bacchanalian bouts in Costa Rica
over, Mr. Christy set out for Nicaragua,
where he supposed the majesty of his pres-
ence might work magical results. Arrived
at Leon, he forthwith addressed a letter to
the Government, to which the Government
replied, declining to have anything to do
with him, and directing their answer to
" Mr. Christy, subscribing himself Her
Britannic Majesty's Consul-General in
Mosquito." To this, Mr. Christy made
a long and indignant reply, and returned
forthwith to San Juan. In passing through
the river, he observed that the forty miles
between the Rapids of Machuca, and the
Serapiqui (the then proclaimed western
limit of Mosquito) were fair and fertile,
and he incontinently received new light, in
respect to the "territorial rights''^ of the
King of Mosquito. This was forthwith
transmitted to the foreign office, and in
two months thereafter, it was proclaimed
that the " Territory of Mosquito, on the
west, extended up the river San Juan, to
the Rapids of Machuca /" — forty miles
beyond the former limit ! A line, drawn
from this point, to the claimed point on the
river Roman, takes in part of Lake Nicar-
agua, a portion of the inhabited Nicaraguan
district of Chontales, besides a number of
the richest mines, and some of the largest
towns of Segovia, — not to mention a num-
ber of the ruined forts of the Spaniards on
the Rio Segovia, and other streams ! This
boundary would, therefore, if it could be
maintained, greatly promote the " well-
being of the Mosquito kingdom," to say
nothing of British interests !

Previous to this, the Government of
Costa Rica had also received new light as
to its northern limits, and intimated that
its territories extended a hundred miles
higher up the Pacific coast than had before
been pretended, so as to take in the south-
ern shore of Lake Nicaragua and the
south bank of the river San Juan, inclu-
ding the Nicaraguan military station of the
Castillo Viejo. This intimation was made

gently ; and the British Vice Consul, to
whom the task of making it was confided,
intimated also to the Government of Nic-
aragua, that if $100,000 was considered
any object, he had no doubt it might be
obtained by a formal relinquishment of the
territory in question, — accompanying the
intimation with the hint, that the British
Government might soon be compelled to
insist upon the payment of certain obliga-
tions, which it had been alledged the State
was under to British subjects.

To understand this subordinate plot fully,
it is necessary to mention, that a Mr. Mo-
lina, after due consultation with the British
agents in Nicaragua and Guatemala, had
been Minister from Costa Rica to England.
The object of his mission is apparent :
Great Britain, desirous of avoiding injuring
her influence in Costa Rica, by enforcing
her pretensions on behalf of Mosquito, to
the eastern coasts of that State, judiciously
limited her actual and forcible encroach-
ments to the recognized territories of Nic-
aragua. She did this, relying upon future
intrigues to extinguish the Costa Rican
title, and lest Costa Rica should become
alarmed, and affiliate with Nicaragua, from
which State she had kept aloof in the late
contest, as well as for the purpose of di-
verting the attention of her people from
their own objects, the British agents incited
the Government of Costa Rica to renew
obsolete pretensions to a valuable portion
of Nicaraguan territory, promising to pro-
tect them from the superior power of this
State, in case of necessity. This snug ar-
rangement could not, however, be kept
entirely secret. It got out, that Costa
Rica was to be placed under British pro-
tection. The idea elated Castro, the
Chief of Costa Rica, to the highest, who
fancied he saw, in this arrangement, an
indefinite prolongation of his ill-gotten
power, which now appeared to be failing
fast. The information reached the United
States, and, meantime, Mr. Molina, having
arrived in England, Mr. Bancroft was in-
structed to question him upon this point,
and to intimate to him, that the United
States could not fail of being interested
against any such proceedings on the part
of any North American republic. Mr,
Molina placed his hand upon his heart, and
declared that the idea had never been en-
tertained by his Government, and yet he

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

251

had already submitted a basis to tbe British
Government for this precise object, which
was then under "favorable consideration,"
and has since, it is understood, with some
modifications, been agreed upon. Never
was there a more heinous instance of that
alliterative vice, "diplomatic duplicity,"
which seems to bear the same relation to
lylng^iha^i " extensive defalcation''' does to
theft.

It is well-known that the newspapers of
the States of Central America are owned
and published by the respective Govern-
ments, and are nothing more than official
gazettes, echoing the sentiments of the
party in power. Freedom of the Press is a
nominal thing ; and it is only necessary to
observe the tone of the Government paper,
to learn the disposition of the Government.
This understood, the reader wUl know
what value to place upon the following
passages from the official paper of Costa
Rica, pubUshed in April following the
seizure of San Juan. It will be easy to
see "how the land lay" in that quarter,
and to discover the possibility, if not the
probability, of the truth of the accusation
brought by the Government of Nicaragua,
that some of the merchants and other citi-
zens of Costa Rica, had been parties to the
events at San Juan, and had contributed,
in various ways, to precipitate them, under
the connivance of Castro. The paper said :

" Costa Rica has not witnessed late events
with indifference: but she regards them as past
remedy, and knows how to accommodate her-
self to the new order of things. Aside from
all questions of right, and waiving all national
pride, (which we, Central Americans, do not
know how to sustain,) the occupation of San
Juan, which we regard as a consummated and
irremediable fact., and the consequent estab-
lishment there of an opulent commercial colo-
ny, will open a new era for the commerce and
industry of Costa Rica. Having been already
secured the liberty of passage at that port, we
shall at once be able to engage in opening the
Serapiqui road, and commence the exportation
of our products to the Atlantic; we shall at
once proceed to the opening of a route from
one sea to the other, whiie the Nicaragua
canal is talked about ; and we shall be able to
aspire to rapid growth and unlimited prosper-
ity."

It continues in this strain, congratula-
ting the people upon being relieved of the
Nicaraguan Custom House duties, refers

VOL. v. NO. in. NEW SERIES.

with satisfaction to the low rates establish-
ed by the British officers at San Juan, and
hints at the necessity of a new " fiscal sys-
tem." This last reference concerns on%
of the objects of Molina's visit to
England, which was to establish, in con-
nection with Castro, a kind of Govern-
ment Bank, of which he should be the
principal officer. The paper adds further,
that it has advices from Bluefields, and
that, " although the southern limits of the
kingdom of Mosquito had not yet been
finally decided, the navigation of thj Sera-
piqui river would bo in no way obstructed,"
and that the products of Costa Rica
" should pass freely through San Juan."

All this is sufficiently significant, apart
from all other circumstances, of the actual
sentiments and designs of the Costa Rica
Government ; — for, in these reflections wo
draw a wide distinction between the govern-
ment of that little State, and its people, who,
from the very fact of being frugal and in-
dustrious, are more ready to put up with a
bad government, than take the trouble, or
risk the turbulence of a revolution. But
their forbearance will have an early end,
unless the Government is sustained by
overwhelming influences, from outside. In
this connection, it will not be improper to
anticipate events a little, in order to show
the duplicity of Molina, and the nature of
his negotiations with the British Govern-
ment. Soon after the arrival of Mr. Cas-
tellon in England, (where ho arrived early
in 1849, as Minister for Nicaragua, for the
adjustment of the difficulties of that State
with England,) a rumor reached London
that Nicaragua was about attacking Costa
Rica. Immediately, and in great haste,
Palmerston sent for Mr. Castellon, and
earnestly inquired if the rumor was well-
founded, — adding, in significant diplomatic
phrase, that " Great Britain could not re-
gard such a proceeding with indifi'erence,
in consequence of its intimate relations
with Costa Rica." This, it will be under-
stood, was at about the same time that
Molina assured Mr. Bancroft, that his
Government never contemplated, for a
moment, placing his Government under
British protection.

Mr. Castellon, as we have just said, was
appointed Minister Extraordinary to Eng-
land, in the autumn of 1848, with a view
to the arbitration and final arrangement of

252

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

affairs, between the two countries, in con-
sonance with the closing article of the ca-
pitulation of Cuba. It had been contem-
plated to name some other person ; but the
British Vice-Consul, learning the fact,
waited upon the Director, and dwelt strong-
ly upon the circumstance, that Mr Castel-
lon had already been in Europe, in a diplo-
matic capacity, and upon the necessity of
having some one at the English Court, ac-
quainted with the routine of diplomatic
forms, in order to a favorable termination
of his mission. There were some other
considerations put forward, which would
provoke a smile, if recounted ; but the
concluding and potential one was worthy of
that shrewd " Down Easter," who appears
so often on the comic stage, but no where
else. The Government was destitute of
funds, having exhausted all its available
resources, amounting to about ^100,000,
in the recent brush with Great Britain.
The Vice-Consul availed himself of this
circumstance to offer, in case Mr. Castel-
lon was appointed, to furnish the Govern-
ment, wherefrom to defray the expenses
of the mission, with a quantity of indigo,
which he had on hand, at a price, but little
exceeding twice its actual value, and to
take therefor, certificates of indebtedness
from the State, bearing interest at the mo-
derate rate of two per cent per month !
As the British navy had always been at
hand to enforce the payment of his claims,
and was still ready for any such great na-
tional service, this arrangement was not
unlikely to prove a very " good specula-
tion." The Government, without means,
and flattering itself that, by a fair negotia-
tion at London, it might regain its rights,
hesitated for a while, but finally acceded to
this proposition, — a way of " raising the
wind," — quite as novel as any on record.
Accordingly, the Envoy Extraordinary
made ready to start on his mission, while
the Vice-Consul packed his indigo. The
British agents did not probably believe Mr.
Castellon devoted to their interests, but be-
lieved him less inveterate, in his hostility,
than any others which had been named.
But to guard against the possibility of de-
ception, and fearing that Castellon might
stop in the United States, the British Con-
sul" at Rialejo received sudden advices,
which demanded his presence in England ;
and, by a singular conjunction, or, as the

senior Weller would call it, a " werry hex-
traordinary coincidence," the Consul em-
barked at the same time, and in the same
vessel with Mr. Castellon ; and when the
latter gentleman expressed his intention of
stopping for a short time in the United
States, the former thought it wouldn't be
unpleasant to do so also ! This flexibility
on the part of the Consul extended to ta-
king lodgings at the same hotel ; in fact, it
amounted to the closest surveillance. Mr.
Castellon merely addressed a note to
Washington, but, pending its reception, set
sail for Liveipool.

He presented his credentials in due form,
but his connections with the Goverment
seems to have been very limited, and, so
far as the objects of mission were concern-
ed, of very little effect. To his letters he
received tardy and unsatisfactory answers.
Meantime, the new claim that the western
boundary of Mosquitia extended to the
rapids of Machuca was made.

Mr Castellon, finding himself unable to
accomplish anything at all satisfactory,
prepared to return to JXicaragua. He ac-
cordingly, in the month of July last, had
an interview of leave with Palmerston,
when he was informed that no further dis-
cussion could be had with Nicaragua, in
reference to Mosquito and San Juan.
Palmerston also said to him that " he was
well aware that the United States had
turned its attention to Central America,
and had opened communications with the
respective States ; but that Nicaragua
must indulge no hopes in consequence ; for,
although he felt disposed to regard the
United States with some consideration, so
far as her own relations were concerned,
yet that her opinion, or her influence, was
a matter of small importance, one way or
the other, in the policy which Her Majes-
ty's Government had determined on in
Central America." Hereupon his Lord-
ship jerked his head contemptuously, and
Mr. Castellon was politely bowed out.

A few days thereafter, he received a long
letter from the foreign office, in reply to his
communications before unanswered, which
as it is signed ' 'Palmerston,' ' and seems to be
intended as a summing up of the British side
of the whole Mosquito question, we subjoin it
in extenso. This, then, is the British Exhibit,
and here Great 13ritain rests her case before
the world. It might be allowed to pass to that

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

253

august jury without one word of couiment,
with the fullest assurance that the verdict
would be rendered against his Lordship on
his own showing. But it contains too much
that is false in tact, and unfounded in in-
ference, to be allowed to pass thus easilj'.
He who, in a case of grave national impor-

tance, involving the highest principles of
international law and justice, resorts to the
lowest arts of the special pleader, escapes
merited justice if allowed to pass without
the severest reprehension. The letter fol-
lows.

CHAPTER IV.

BRITISH EXHIBIT OF THE MOSQUITO QUESTION LETTER OP

LORD PALMERSTON.

Foreign' Office, Jidij 16, 1849.
Sir : — I have the honor to acknowledge the
receipt of the letter which you addressed to
me on the 23d ultimo, in reply to my letter of
the 27th of April, relative to the debt due by
the State of Nicaragua to certain British sub-
jects, holders of bonds of that State.

As the question whether the State of Nicar-
agua has a right to include amongst those
branches of her revenues which are pledged
for the payment of that debt, custom duties to
be levied at the port of Grey Town, or in other
words, the question as to the validity of the
alleged right of Nicaragua to the Port of Grey
Town,* forms the essential point in your letter
now under consideration, as well as in your
preceding letters of the 20th of January, and
of the 5th and 19th of March last, I will ad-
dress myself at once to that question.

In your letter of the 23d ultimo, you say,
that by the arguments therein employed, you
have shown. 1st. That the Port of Grey
Town is now, de jure, the property of the State
of Nicaragua, and has been so ever since Cen-
tral America declared itself independent of
Spain ; 2dly. That therefore the revenues of
customs levied at that Port is justly to be in-
cluded in those revenues of the State of Ni-
caragua, which are pledged for the redemp-
tion of the loan which was contracted for in
1826 by the Republic of Central America with
the House of Barclay & Co. ; and, 3dly. That
the British creditors, are bound to assist the
Government of Nicaragua, in establishing its
claim to Grey Town ; and that if they do not so,

* This is the name which the English have given
to San Juan de Nicaragua, since its occupation.

they must submit to the loss which may result
from their own laches, until the Port which
you say is unjustly withheld by Great Britain
shall have been restored to Nicaragua.

Upon these propositions I am prepared to
join is.sue with you, and will proceed to show
that the Port of Grey Town does not belong
and never has rightfully belonged to the State
of Nicaragua. This point once demonstrated,
the second and third propositions 'which you
deduce from the alleged rights of Nicaragua
to Grey Town, must of course and necessarily
fall to the ground.

Now, in the first place, I have to remark,
that since the people of Nicaragua have never
occupied any part of the territory of Mosquito
except Grey Town, which they forcibly took
possession of only in 1836, the sole pretence
upon which the State of Nicaragua can claim
a right to Grey Town or to any other part of
the Mosquito territory, is the allegation that
the Mosquito territory belonged to Spain, and
that Nicaragua has inherited the rights of Spain
over that territory. But assuming for tlie pre-
sent for the sake of argument that Spain had
rights over the Mosquito territories, how can
it^be shown that those rights have devolved to
Nicaragua 1 Has Spain ever conferred such
rights to Nicaragua by treaty ? Certainly
not. Has Nicaragua obtained them by con-
quest ? Equally not. The people of Nicara-
gua revolted, indeed, against the King of Spain
and obtained by force of arm.s, and de facto,
their practical independence, which, however,
I believe, has not up to this day been formally
and diplomatically acknowledged by Spain,
But the successful revolt of the people of Ni-
caragua could give them no right, with refer-
ence to Spain, except the right of self-govern-

254

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

ment. The very principle upon which iheir
revolt was founded, and which the success of
that revolt established, goes to forbid them from
practising towards other nations that kind of
oppression from which they had freed them-
selves. The fact of their having thrown off
the yoke of Spain could give them no right
to impose their yoke upon the people of Mos-
quito ; the circumstance that they had succeed-
ed in asserting their own freedom from foreign
rule, could give them no right to impose their
rule upon a people who had always been free,
and it is a well known historical fact, that the
Mosquito nation had from time immemorial,
and up to the period of the revolt of Nicar-
agua been as free as they have continued to
be from that period to the present day.
But even supposing that this had not been so,
and that the crown of Spain had possessed
rights of sovereignty over the Mosquito terri-
tory, the people of Nicaragua might as well
claim a derivative right from Spain to govern
and to be masters of Mexico, New Grenada, or
any of the neighboring States of Central Amer-
ica, as to govern and possess by such deriva-
tive rights the Mosquito territory, which was
never possessed or occupied by the people of
Nicaragua. The people of each of the revolt-
ed districts of the Spanish American provinces
established their own independence and their
own rights of self-government within the terri-
tory which they actually occupied, but nothing
more. If these revolted provinces had ima-
gined that they acquired by the revolt all the
rights of Spain, besides determining among
each other in what manner those rights
were to be apportioned between them, they
must also by necessity have considered them-
selves bound by all the obligations of Spain.
But they neither acknowledged these obliga-
tions nor were called upon by other countries
to adopt them. On the contrary, when their
political existence as independent Slates was
acknowledged by foreign countries, they con-
tjacted severally with those foreign countries,
such new treaties as were applicable to their
own respective geographical limits and politi-
cal conditions, and neither they nor the foreign
powers with which they treated, ever thought
of considering them inheritors of any rights or
obligations, rising out of the treaty engage-
ment of the Spanish Crown. However, if
Spain possessed any rights over the Mosquito
territory, and if those rights have descended by
inheritance to any of the Spanish Republics,
it would remain to be proved that such rights
have devolved upon Nicaragua rather than up-
on Honduras, Costa Rica, or New Grenada, and
it is probable that each and all of those three
States would establish just as good a claim as
Nicaragua, and probably a better one to the
inheritance of any such rights, if such rights
had existed.

But I deny totally and entirely that Spain
had any right to the Mosquito territory, and I
therefore contend, that there is no inheritance
whatever, in this respect, which can become
the subject matter of dispute. On the contrary,
the King of the Mosquitos has, from a very
early period in the history of America, been
an independent ruler of a separate territory,
and he has invariably been acknowledged and
upheld by the Government of Great Britain.
It is quite true that by the convention of 1786
between Great Britain and Spain, Great Bri-
tain agreed to withdraw British subjects from
the Mosquito territor)'. But Great Britain did
not by that treaty either acknowledge that the
Mosquitos were not an independent nation, or
renounce her protectionship of that nation.
On the contrary, the stipulation of the treaty
of 1786 clearly mentions the Mosquitos as a
nation distinct from the people living within
the Spanish Dominions, and that treaty con-
tains a stipulation which was an act of pro-
tectorship exercised by Great Britain in favor
of the Mosquito nation.

In order to understand fully the treaty of
1786, it is necessary to revert to the treaty of
1783.

It appears from the 6th article of the treaty
of 1783, that several English settlements
having been made and extended upon the Span-
ish continent: on the pretence of cutting log-
wood or dyeing wood, and Great Britain and
Spain being desirous of preventing as much
as possible the causes of complaint and mis-
understanding to which this intermixture of
British and Spanish wood-cutters gave rise, it
was thought expedient that the Government
(Spanish) should assign to British subjects, for
the purpose of wood-cutting, a separate and
sufficiently extensive and convenient district
on the Coast of America, and that in consider-
ation of such an assignment, British subjects
should be restricted from forming settle-
ments on any other part of the Spanish terri-
tories in America, whether continental or in-
sular, and that all British subjects dispersed in
those Spanish possessions, should, within
eighteen months after the exchange of the ra-
tihcations of the treaty, retire within the dis-
trict specially assigned for their occupation and
use.

It seems, however, that the treaty of 1783
did not sufficiently accomplish the purpose of
preventing complaints and misunderstandings.
It was found by Great Britain, on the one
hand, that the district assigned on the Coast of
Honduras to British subjects by the 6th article
of the treaty of 1783, was too limited in ex-
tent, and the enjoyment of it much narrowed
by the restrictions contained in the article. It
was found by Spain, on the other hand, that
British subjects still lingered in parts of the
Spanish American territories, and the Spanish

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

255

Government found, moreover, that there were
many British subjects settled in the Mosquito
territory, to which the treaty of 1783 did not
apply, as that treaty mentioned only the Span-
ish possessions in America, and said nothing
about Mosquito, and did not require that Bri-
tish subjects should retire from Alosquito, and
it seems that the revenues to Spain suffered
from smuggling transactions carried on by
British subjects so settled on the Spanish ter-
ritory and in Mosquito.

To put an end to these mutual inconve-
niences, it was agreed by the convention of
1786 that a larger extent of territory should
be assigned to JBritish subjects on the Coast of
Honduras, according to new boundaries descri-
bed in that convention ; and it was also agreed
that the enlarged territory so granted should
be occupied by British subjects with a greater
latitude of enjoyments than was allowed by
the restrictions of the treaty of 1783 ; and in
return, in order to relieve the Spanish Govern-
ment from loss by smuggling, the British
Government again bound itself to recall Bri-
tish subjects from the Spanish possessions in
America, and also took the new engagement
of withdrawing British subjects from the Mos-
quito territory, as well as from the Spanish
possessions ; and the British Government fur-
ther engaged,that British subjects so withdrawn
and confined to the ceded district in Honduras,
should, in their communications from thence
to the Spanish territories, conform to such reg-
ulations as to custom duties, as the Spanish
Government might think proper to establish
among its own subjects.

The manner in which the Mosquito territory
is, in the convention of 1786, contra-distin-
guished from the possessions of Spain, which
alone had been mentioned in the treaty of
1783, clearly proves that by the understanding
of both parties, the Mosquito territory and the
possessions of Spain were separate and differ-
ent things.

But any pretension of Spain to rights over
the Mosquito territory, of which she had no
possession, could only be founded upon a gen-
eral claim of sovereignty over the whole of that
Central portion of the American Continent. But
if that claim existed, Spain could not have ac-
knowledged that she had in that part of Amer-
ica any frontiers, except the two oceans; and,
yet by article 14th of the treaty of 1786, the
British Government engages not to allow Bri-
tish subjects to furnish arms or warlike stores
to the Indians, in general situated upon the
frontiers of the Spanish possessions ; and by
the immediately preceding mention of the Mos-
quitos, in the very same sentence, it is suffi-
ciently clear that they were intended to be in-
cluded among the number of Indians situated
upon the frontiers of the Spanish possessions.
But if Mosquito had belonged to Spain, the

Spanish possessions in that quarter would have
had no frontier, e.xcept the tide line of the ocean,
and upon such frontier no Indians could dwell,
to whom arms and warlike stores could be fur-
nished. It is plain, therefore, that the treaty
of 1786 proves, that the Mosquitos were con-
sidered by the contracting parties as a nation,
separate and independent, and were not ac-
knowledged by Great Britain as belonging to
Spain. But that treaty also proves, that Great
Britain still sheltered the Mosquitos under her
protection ; for while the British Government
agreed, for fiscal reasons, to withdraw from
Mosquito those British subjects, whose pres-
ence therein, being a visible symbol of the
protectorship of Great Britain, would secure
the Mosquitos from any act of hostility on the
part of the Spaniards, the Britisli Govern-
ment exacted from the Government of Spain.
as an equivalent security for ]\Iosquitos, an
engagement not to retaliate upon the people of
Mosquito, on account of the co-operation and
assistance which the Mosquitos had afforded
to the British in the hostilities which had taken
place between Spain and Great Britain before
the peace of 1783. This stipulation was a
substantial and effectual act of protectorship
on the part of Great Britain, acquiesced in and
subscribed to by Spain.

It is demonstrable, therefore, that the conver-
tion of 1786 did not invalidate either the inde-
pendence of Mosquito, or the protectorship cf
Great Britain ; but if it had invalidated both,
as between Great Britain and Spain, what
would that have been to Nicaragua 1 or how
could a convention, which was "?-e5 inter alios
acta.,''' have had any bearing whatever upon
the rights or pretensions of Nicaragua.

I might well content myself to close here my
answer to your notes ; and having proved a
negative, I might abstain from going into a
proof of the opposite affirmative. Having
shown that Nicaragua has no claim whatever
to the Mosquito territory, it would seem un-
necessary for my argument with you, to show
by any other evidence than the documents
which you yourself have quoted, that long be-
fore Nicaragua came into existence as a State,
Great Britain exercised a protectorship over the
Mosquitos, as a separate nation. But, never-
theless, even at the risk of making this letter
needlessly long, I will mention one or two
facts which clearly demonstrate that it was so.

At what time and in what manner the con-
nection between Great Britain and the Mos-
quito Nation first began, is not well known;
but it is certain, and on record, that while the
Duke of Albemarle wasGovernor of Jamaica,
to which office he was appointed in 1687, the
Mosquito Indians made a formal cession of
the sovereignty of their country to the King
of England, and that in consequence of that
cession, the chief of the Mosquitos, received his

256

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

appointment as King, by a commission given to
him b}^ the Governor of Jamaica, in the name
and on the behalf of the King of England.

Somewhat more than thirty years afterwards,
namely, on the 25th of June 1720, as appears
by the Journals of the House of Assembly of
Jamaica, a convention about runaway slaves
was concluded between the then Governor of
Jamaica, and King Jeremy of the Mosquitos.

From that time downwards, during the
reigns of George 1st, 2d, and 3d, the connec-
tion of Great Britain and the Mosquito contin-
ued uninterrupted and unimpaired, and at times
during that period there were British settlers
established in the Mosquito territory with a
British resident officer, appointed by the Gov-
ernor and Council of Jamaica, on behalf of
the British Crown, to superintend those settlers;
and the Council of Jamaica, in a report to Gov-
ernor|Dallas, on the 16th of July, 1774, adver-
ting to the inland boundary of the Mosquito
territory, mention it as running along " the
distant mountains," which bound the Spanish
territory, a clear proof that Mosquito was a
separate State and did not belong to Spain.
But colonial records of the British Government
abound with correspondence about the Mos-
quito King and nation, proving not only the
strong and constant interest taken by the Brit-
ish Government in their welfare, but the close
and intimate connection which has uninter-
ruptedly subsisted between Great Britain and
Mosquito.

If it be established, as it clearly is, that the
Mosquito territory, is, and for centuries has
been, a separate State, distinct from the Amer-
ican possessions of Spain, there cannot be a
moment's doubt that the Port of Grey Town
at the mouth of the river San Juan, belongs
to and forms part of the Mosquito territory.
This can be shown by quotations from numer-
ous authorities, public and private, official and
literary ; and so far from ^here being any just
ground to doubt that the southern extremity of
the Mosquito territory includes the Port of

Grey Town, there are, on the contrary, good
and substantial reasons which can be alleged
to show, that the rights of the Mosquito ex-
tend southward, as far as the Boca del Toro,
at which place, the King of Mosquito has, at
various times, exercised rights, by levying
duties.

Such being the state of the matter, it can
scarcely be necessary for me to say, that Her
Majesty's Government cannot allow the Gov-
ernment of Nicaragua to mix up its unfound-
ed pretensions to the territory of Mosquito,
with the just claims of the British creditors
upon Nicaragua ; and any attempt on the part
of the Nicaraguan Government to do so would
constitute one of those cases of denial of jus-
tice and of notorious injustice, which you
yourself admit would entitle Her Majesty's
Government to exercise an authoritative inter-
ference in the discussion between the British
bond-holders and the Nicaraguan Government.

In saying thi.s, however, I beg not to be
misunderstood, as admitting that such an au-
thoritative interference would be proper and le-
gitimate only in such an extreme case, a cavse
which my respect for the Nicaraguan Govern-
ment forbids me from considering to be possi-
ble as between the British bond-holders and
that Government.

But, as in a matter of this kind, it is desi-
rable that no mistake should be allowed to ex-
ist, I beg to say, that it is quite certain and
indisputable, that, according to international
laws, the Government of any country is at full
liberty to take up, according to its own dis-
cretion, in such manner, and at such times as
it may think fit, any just claim which any of
its subjects may have against the Govern-
ment of any other country.

I have the honor to be, with the highest con-
sideration, Sir,

Your most obedient humble servant,
(Signed) PALMERSTON.

CHAPTER V.

ANALYSIS AND REFUTATION OF THE BRITISH EXHIBIT.

It has been said that falsehood circles the
world, while truth is putting on his boots, or
something to that effect. A liar may make
an assertion in one sentence, which it may
require a page to prove to be a falsehood.
Our readers must, therefore, pardon us, if.

our answer to this letter appears long and
tedious.

In making the assertion, that Nicaragua
has never occupied any portion of the terri-
tory of Mosquito, his Lordship forgets that
the last claim which he himself has put

1850.]

The Mosquito Qiiestion.

257

forward, as to the western boundaries of
that equivocal and growing country, takes
in Matagalpa, and several other consider-
able towns in Segovia, if not the ancient
capital of that department itself. It prob-
ably, also, takes in the village of San
Miguelito, and a portion of the inhabited
district of Chontales. But even if his ob-
servation was so far correct, that no estab-
lishment of civilized Nicaraguans exist
within the so-called limits of Mosquito, we
call upon him to prove that every inhabi-
tant of that region (except foreigners) is
not, de factOj a IN'icaraguan subject or citi-
zen, as truly and as positively as every
Seminole in Florida, or every Chippeway
in Canada, is a subjectof the United States,
or of Great Britain ? His Lordship well
knows that there are other territorial rights
pertaining to nations, than those resulting
from actual and constant occupation, as
will be shown as we proceed. He, how-
ever, admits that the Nicaraguans have
occupied San Juan, of which, however, he
asserts they " took forcible possession as
late as 1836." This is simply not true.
By order of the Captain-General of Guate-
mala, Jose Maria Gonzales Saravia, dated
May 2, 1821, Don Jose Blanco, com-
mander of the Fort of San Carlos, at the
head of the San Juan river, for the better
protection of the port of San Juan, at its
mouth, was directed to build a fort there,
which he accordingly did, and the ruins of
which may still be seen. Upon their inde-
pendence, the people of Nicaragua took
possession of the fort and the harbor ; but
as the collection of the customs was more
readily conducted at San Carlos, at the
head of the river, (where, so far as then
known, everything entered at San Juan
must necessarily pass,) the custom officers
were placed at that point, but were always
recognized, and made their reports as
" Collectors of the port of San Juan."
All the trade of Nicaragua, on the Atlan-
tic, was carried on through that port and
river. But, in 1835, it was asserted that
a communication had been opened by
means of a branch of the San Juan, called
the " Serapiqui," with Costa Rica, and
that goods which were formerly entered,
and which paid duties at the Costa Rica
port of Matina, (sixty miles southward of
San Juan,) were now introduced, clandes-
tinely, by this new route. The custom-

house officers, with their guards, were
therefore ordered to change their position
to the mouth of the river, which they ac-
cordingly did, without the slightest opposi-
tion; and t7ns is what Lord Palmerston
terms a forcible seizure of the Port !

But these are matters of slight impor-
tance, compared with the startling princi-
ple which his Lordship next proceeds to
lay down, and which is a practical denial
of the ability of a State, which declares and
maintains its independence, to succeed to
the territorial rights of the sovereignty
which it displaces. When this new doc-
trine was broached by Mr. Chatfield, we
regarded it as so preposterous, and so en-
tirely in opposition to universal practice,
not to say common sense, as to need no
serious refutation. But coming now from
an officer, charged with the foreign admin-
istration of an old and powerful State, at a
time when events indicate, with certainty,
that many new and republican organiza-
tions, rising from the wrecks of ancient
empires and kingdoms, will claim admis-
sion into the ranks of nations, it is entitled
to special notice. If this new principle, or
rather this rude denial of an old and estab-
lished principle, is recognized, the Inuitsof
no new State can be fixed, and every such
State must constantly be exposed to dis-
turbance from savage tribes, discontented
communities, or avaricious neighbors.

" For the sake of argument" alone, his
Lordship admits that Spain had territorial
rights over the Mosquito coast ; but he de
nies that Nicaragua, and, by implication,
any other State, could succeed to those
rights. "The successful revolt of the
people of Nicaragua," he continues,
" could give them no right, with reference
to Spain, except that of self-government."
This sweeping declaration, which denies to
a revolutionized people the right even to
live on the soil, which they have made
free, his Lordship afterwards puts forward
in a modified form. " The people of each
of the revolted districts of the Spanish-
American provinces," he says, "establish-
ed their own independence, and their own
rights of self-government, within the terri-
tory which they actually occupied, and
nothing more." That is to say, they ac-
quired a sort of patch-work independence ;
" the districts (observe his Lordship's
phraseology) which the revolting people

258

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

actually occupied," alone became inde-
pendent, and belonged to the new States.
Wild lands, and the unsettled districts, be-
tween actually occupied districts, still re-
mained under the anterior order of things !
A city might become free, but not its de-
pendent territories ; — the settled portion of a
province might become free, but not the
province ; — a nation might become free,
but not the territory of the nation ! When
the thirteen colonies sustained their inde-
pendence against Great Britain, did she
adopt this principle, and limit her acknow-
ledgment of their independence to the
" districts which the colonists actually oc-
cupied ?" On the contrary, the thirteen
free States were understood to comprehend
the entire territory of the thu'teen colonies,
including many native tribes, any one of
which was immeasurably superior, in all
that goes to give a national character, or
which is necessary to a national existence,
whether in war or peace, to the miserable
savages which his Lordship has the auda-
city to put on a footing with civilized na-
tions ! When Spain acknowledged the
independence of Mexico, and when her
Cortez, on the 4tli of December, 1836, by
a solemn edict, recognized the independence
of all her revolted colonies, did she make
any reservations of the districts not actu-
ally occupied at the time the colonies threw
off their yoke ? Nothing of the sort !
Neither common sense, common right, or
common practice, sustains, but, on the
contrary, they do wholly deny his Lordship's
position.

Here we might meet this extraordinary
assertion of his Lordship, so far as concerns
the case before us, by the fact that the
Republic of Central America, declared by
the very first article of its constitution, that
it comprehended all the territory which
had belonged to the ancient kingdom of
Guatemala ; and that, under this declara-
tion, it was recognized by Great Britain,
— the same power, which now denies that
the republic ever had a shadow of right to
a section equal to one half of those territo-
ries ! But that is a point which will claim
more particular attention in a future page.
We are obliged to notice the statements
and arguments of his Lordship in the order
in which they occur, and if, therefore, our
observations, in refutation of the one, and
in correction of the other, lack continuity,

the fault is not with us ; for his Lordship
rambles, as all men must do, when not
pursuing the straight and even course of
faithful narration and legitimate argi;ment.
With this explanation, we beg to observe
that his Lordship is sadly deficient in his
knowledge of historical facts, to express,
even in the indefinite form of a beliefs that
the independence of the Spanish revolted
colonies was not acknowledged by Spain.
Can it be possible that he is ignorant of the
famous and eloquent report upon the sub-
ject, presented to the Cortez-General of
Spain, on the 27th of November, 1836,
and approved unanimously on the succeed-
ing 6th of December, which, formally, and
in a solemn act appended thereto, recog-
nized the independence of all these States^
and authorized the sovereign, who concurred
fully in the action of the Cortez, to enter
immediately into treaty relations with
them } It is true, treaty relations were
not established with all, simply from the
force of circumstances ; but the recognition
was none the less actual in consequence.
Said the Cortez : "we recognize in this
mode^^'' i. e. by the adoption of this report
and act, " the entire independence of the
new American States, so as to restore
tranquillity to those regions J and render to
humanity its rights.''^

It would be trifling with the common
sense of our readers, to notice the remark
of his Lordship, that " even though the
rights of Spain over the Mosquito territory
were admitted, Nicaragua might as well
claim a derivative right of sovereignty over
Mexico, New-Grenada, &c." Such stuff
as this would not be tolerated in a school-
boys' debating club. The fact that the
Mosquito coast belonged to the kingdom of
Guatemala, and that portions of this coast
fell within the boundaries of the provinces
of Costa Rica, Honduras, and Nicaragua,
which were included within the kingdom
of Guatemala, which kingdom became, by
revolution, the Republic of Central Amer-
ica,— each of the provinces retaining, as
States, their original boundaries ! we
say, these facts need only be recounted to
place his Lordship in the light of a trifler
with the plainest rules of reasoning.

But the basis of his Lordship's proposi-
tion is the assertion that " it is a well known
historical fact that the Mosquito nation
had, from time immemorial, and, up to the

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

259

period of the revolt of Nicaragua, been as
free as they have continued to be from that
period to this day." We will not say that
the comparative or conditional form in
which his Lordship has put this statement,
is intended. If he means to say, (what
elsewhere he does, in fact, say, and which
is the claim that the English Government
has set up, upon which to found their
usurpation,) that the tribe of Indians,
known as Moscos^ or Mosquitos, on the
Atlantic coast of Central America, are truly
a free and independent nation, according
to the standards of common sense, inter-
national law, and concurrent practice,
then, and we now do, not only join issue
with him, but engage to prove, to the satis-
faction of every impartial man in Christen-
dom, that his pretensions are unfounded, —
subversive of all international right, — im-
pudent and dangerous innovations, — and
withouta precedent in the history of the civil-
ized world. We will also engage to show that
Spain had jurisdiction over the Mosquito
shore, by the double right of discovery and
occupation, that England repeatedly and
solemnly recognized that right, and that
the Mosquito Indians never pretended to
sovereignty, until excited to do so by Bri-
tish agents, for purposes as selfish as the
means resorted to are base.

Says Palmerston : "I deny totally and
entirely that Spain had any right to the
Mosquito territory, and I therefore contend
that there is no inheritance in that respect,
which can become the subject matter of
controversy."

To disprove this assertion we must in-
quire by what right any European nation
held, or holds any portion of the American
Continent ; what acts were supposed to
convey these rights, and whether Spain,
by compliance with the same, acquired
sovereignty over the Mosquito coast.
Upon the principle here involved we have
fortunately the highest authority.

Said Chief Justice Marshall, {Johnson
vs. Mcintosh^ 8 Wheaton, 573, 574,)
" Discovery is the original foundation of
titles to lands in America, as between the
different European nations, and gave to
the nation, making the discovery, the sole
right of acquiring the soil of the natives,
and establishing settlements upon it. It
was a right in which no Europeans could
interfere.'''' It was a right they all assert-

ed for themselves, and to the assertion of
which, by others, all assented. The rela-
tions which were to exist between the dis-
coverer and the natives, were to be regu-
lated by themselves.

" While the different nations of Europe
respected the rights of the natives as occu-
pants, they asserted the ultimate domin-
ion to he in themselves ; and claimed and
exercised the power to grant the soU while
yet in the possession of the natives. These
grants have been understood by all to con-
vey a title to the grantees, subject only to
the Indian right of occupancy."

The same authority says in the same :

"The lands ceded by Great Britain to the
United States were, in great part, occupied by
numerous, warlike, and independent tribes of
Indians ; but the e.xclusive right of the United
States to extinguish those titles, and to grant
the soil, has never been doubted ; and any
attempt of others to intrude in that country,
ivoidd be considered an aggression, which would
justify wary

Again :

" The United States maintain, as all others
have maintained, that discovery gave an ex-
chisive right to extinguish the Indian title to
occupancy, either by purchase or conquest,
and gave also a light to such a degree of
sovereignty, as the circumstances of the people
would allow them to exercise.'''' {lb. 587.)

Discovery, then, is the basis of all terri-
torial right, which any European nation pos-
sesses, or has ever possessed, in America ; it
has given a title indisputable, any invasion
of which, by other nations, is a just cause of
war. By it, the discoverer was left free to
institute such relations with the natives as
he pleased, or as the circumstances of the
people would allow, without, however, any
prejudice to his sovereignty.

The question then arises, what nation
first discovered the section of continent,
known as Central America, or that portion
called the Mosquito coast } Unquestion-
ably, the Spaniards.

In the month of August, 1502, Christo-
pher Columbus, then sailing on his fourth
voyage, discovered an island about 50
miles north of Cape Honduras, called by
the natives Guanaja, which name it still
retauis. He stopped there a few days,
and proceeded upon his voyage. He
next discovered a point which was cov-

260

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

ered with trees, and to which he gave
the name Punta de Casinas, which
has since been changed into Cape Hondu-
ras. Upon Sunday, the 14th August, he
went ashore, with many of his men.
to hear mass, and on the Wednesday
following (17th of August, 1502) he
landed again, and formally took possession
of the coast ^ in the name of their Catholic
Majesties ; calling it, from the circum-
stance of many of the natives having great
holes in the lobes of their ears, " through
which an egg might pass," Costa de la
Oreja^ — Coast of the Ear. From this
point he sailed, with great difficulty, along
the coast eastward, where, on the 12th
September, he discovered the Cape, which,
in the language of the old historian, " runs
far out into the sea, when the land turns
off to the south." This point he called
Cabo de Gracias a Dios — or Cape Thanks
to God. He went ashore at this point, as
he had previously done, and on the 17th of
September, he anchored before an island,
called Quiribi^ in which we recognize the
modern Chiriqui, which gives its name to
the Lagoon, or Archipelago, included in the
southern division of what is claimed to be
the Mosquito shore. Here he stopped for
fourteen days, and held a good deal of inter-
course with the Indians. He describes the
Indians along the whole coast as generally
naked, and speaking several languages.
They presented him with young girls, and
he purchased from them the gold and sil-
ver ornaments which some of them wore.
{Herrera^ Hist. America, vol. i., pp.
258, 268 ; also, vol. iii. p. 366.)

Thus much for the right of discovery.
Columbus not only discovered this coast,
but formally took possession of it for the
crown of Spain. But not only so, settle-
ments were speedily established in various
parts of it ; at Truxillo, San Gil de Buena
Vista, Gracias a Dios, San Jorge, and other
points.

Before the year 1526, the town of Trux-
illo was established at Cape Honduras, as
it is expressly referred to in the sixth letter
of Cortez, of that date, and about the year
1536 the Spaniards, who had been left in
various parts of the coasts of Honduras,
sent an urgent request to Pedro de Alva-
rado, the renowned General of Cortez in
Mexico, then Governor of Guatemala, for
his intervention to organize the country.

This he at once proceeded to do ; and, says
Herrera, {vol. v. p. 107,) " founded the
town of Gracias a Dios, which proved a
good situation, and drew an abundance of
people there." He also founded another
colony at Port Cavallos, now Amoa.
Previously, Giles Gonzales had landed be-
tween Truxillo and Cape Caraaron, where
he established a colony called San Gil de
Buena Vista.

We have thus shown that the northern
part of what Lord Palmerston claims as the
Mosquito coast, was not only originally
discovered, but partially occupied by the
Spaniards. We next propose to show that
the same is true of the southern portion of
the same coast.

Thomas Gage, an Englishman, in the
year 1665, journeyed overland from Gua-
temala through San Salvador, and Nicar-
agua to Cartage, the capital of Costa Rica.
From the latter place he crossed to the
Atlantic coast, and embarked for Porto
Bello, where he expected to find a vessel
for Europe ; but was captured by pirates,
and obliged to turn back. He speaks of
the coast as being inhabited by Spaniards,
who had reduced the Indians, and who kept
up a considerable trade through the ports
of Sucre and Anzuelos, which Lord Palm-
erston will find in the maps of this section,
published by order of Parliament, desig-
nated " Swarree," and the " Port of Car-
tago." We quote the words of this travel-
ler. {Gage''s West Indies., pp. 426, 436,
London, 1699) : " Here (at Cartage) we
learned that there was a vessel ready to set
out at the mouth of the River Suere.^ and
another from the Rio Anzuelos, but as the
first was the best place to travel to by rea-
son of more provisions by the way, more
tribes of Indians, and Estancas of Span-
iards, we resolved to go there. We found
the country mountainous in some places,
but here and there were valleys, where was
good corn, Spaniards living in good farms,
who, as also the Indians, had many hogs ;
but the towns of Indians we found much
unlike those we had left in Nicaragua, and
the people, in courtesy and civility, much
differing from them, and of a rude and bold
carriage ; but they are kept under by the
Spaniards, as much as any of those which
I have formerly spoken of., in Guatemala.
We came in so good time to the River
Sucre y that we stayed there but three days

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

261

in a Spanish farm near it, and then
sailed.''^

"They had not," says this author,
" sailed more than 20 leagues," when they
were captured by pirates, who plundered
them, and set them ashore. Here they
were told that the vessel at Anzuelos had
gone ; but, by the charitable assistance of
the Spaniards of the country^ were en-
abled to return to Cartago.

At this time, we also know, that a direct
trade was kept up between Grenada and the
ports of Spain, through the river and port
of San Juan. The author in question de-
scribes the establishments which were
maintained to facilitate the navigation of
that river. The ruins of the forts, then
built to defend it, stUl frown upon the voy-
ager as he passes. Indeed, as early as
1527, the plan of opening a canal across
the Isthmus of Nicaragua, by way of Rio
San Juan, and Lake Grenada, or Nicar-
agua, was suggested, and one of the strong-
est arguments used in supporting it was,
according to Herrera, that thereby " His
Catholic Majesty might open a way to
the Spice Islands through his own domin-
ions."

We have also the testimony of Equemel-
ing, a pirate, who was here before Gage, that
portions of this coast was occupied by the
Spaniards. He says, {Narrative, p. 163,
London, 1704,) that proceeding north
from Boca del Toro, they arrived at the
place called the Rio de Zuere, (Suere, or
Swai-ree,) "where we found some houses
belonging to the Spaniards, whom we re-
solved to visit. The inhabitants all fled,
&c." From thence this party proceeded
to " the Bay of Bleevelt, so named from a
pirate, who used to resort thither, as we
did." This is the Bay of Bluefields, now
occupied by men equally unscrupulous with
those who named it.

Lord Palmerston, therefore, makes the
assertion that the Indians of the Mosquito
coast were always a free people, and that
Spain had no rights there, in total disre-
gard of historical facts, and of the princi-
ples laid down by civilized nations, for the
regulation and determination of their territo-
rial rights in America. The Mosquito nation,
so called, or that fractional tribe named
Moscos, were distinguished by no superior-
ity in their social, or other organizations,
to exempt them from the rules, which

every where else placed the aborigines un-
der the sovereignity of the discoverer. On
the contrary, they were, and the shattered
remnants, which still exist, still are among
the most degraded, physically, intellectu-
ally and morally, of all the savage hordes
of America. The long protectorship,
which Lord Palmerston asserts Great Bri-
tain has exercised over them, has had no
elevating or beneficial influence. A
" Mosco,''"' is a term of degradation, and a
Mosco Indian is superior to nothing human,
except an Anglo- Moscan.

We might rest the cause here, having
proved the Spaniards to have been the ori-
ginal discoverers of the eastern Atlantic
coast of Central America, thus acquiring a
right which no subsequent interposition, by
any other power, could invalidate, — a right
which was afterwards strengthened by ac-
tual occupation. If Great Britain set up
any protectorship over the savage tribes of
that coast, she violated a principle of inter-
national law, and committed an act of hos-
tility against Spain. She acquired no
rights thereby, nor were those tribes reliev-
ed from Spanish sovereignty. It is there-
fore immaterial to the real question at issue,
whether the patrons of pirates in Jamaica,
at any time pretended, or exercised, a pro-
tection over the Indians, amongst whom
their piratical proteges had sought safety
from the gallows and the yard-arm.

We now come to a comparatively late
period, and one of peculiar difiiculty to his
Lordship. He asserts that Great Britain
always recognized the independence of the
Mosquito Indians, and never relinquished
her protectorship over them. We assert,
on the other hand, that Great Britain
never, in any valid manner, recognized
these Indians as a nation, and never exer-
cised any real protection over them ; or if
she ever did, or intended to do so, that she
has repeatedly, and in the most solemn
manner, by her treaties, and her acts, dis-
claimed both.

We have elsewhere presented a histori-
cal sketch of English intercourse with the
Mosquito shore. We have shown how
English adventurers {pirates) obtained a
footing there, and noticed the attempts
which England made, at various times, to
obtain possession of the country in absolute
sovereignty, and how she formally, and by
her treaties of 1671, 1736, 1763, 1783,

262

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

and 1786, renounced her pretensions, and
recognized the absolute sovereignty of
Spain.

The relations which existed between
Spain and the Mosquito coast, are not only
to be inferred from these acts, but are thus
distinctly set forth in a letter from the
King of Spain to the Governor-General of
Guatemala, Don Jose Estracheria, of
the date of January 5, 1785. Says this
letter :

"The Mosquito Indians, situated in the
provinces of Guatemala, have been vassals of
the crown of Spain, since the conquest and
reduction of those dominions, and, notwith-
standing that some time since they abetted
certain Enojlish adventurers in making transi-
tory establishments among them, they have
since repeatedly solicited to return to the Span-
ish dominion, and, finally, the reconciliation
which they asked for, has been benignantly
conceded. Amongst the causes of their rebel-
lion, was the uprising of many negro slaves
belonging to the King, and to particular pro-
prietors of Guatemala, who escaped to the
fastnesses of the mountains, and after effect-
ing a union with these Indians, induced them
to make common cause, and, under the sup-
port of the intruding English, to attempt the
freedom to which they aspired. There are in-
disputable facts, supported by evidence, that
the Mosquito Indians and Sambos aggregated
with them, are subjects of Spain, and that this
monarchy has over them the eminent right of
sovereignty, since by their rebellion they ac-
quired no independence, expressed or implied ;
0(1 the contrary, they have implored pardon for
the crimes which they have committed against
their legitimate Government, offering, in exten-
uation, to drive from the territories tlie English
and other foreigners, ivho have intruded them-
selves iyi the country. These offers ivere formally
made in writing, and still exist. ''^

The document here referred to may, no
doubt, be found amongst the archives of
Spain.

The claims here asserted by the King of
Spain were distinctly put forth in the
treaty of '86, and fully recognized by Eng-
land. Nothing could be more explicit
than that treaty. While England agrees
to withdraw her protection from any of
her own subjects who might continue to
reside in the Mosquito coast, can it be
supposed that she intended to continue it
(if it ever existed, of which there is no
valid proof) over the Indians of that coast .?
If that coast was not part of the Spanish

dominions, what right had England to treat
with Spain concerning it ? We have no
example in history where she has agreed
to withdraw her citizens from the territo-
ries of a second, and to disavow them if
they " dared" to remain, for the benefit or
satisfaction of a third power !

But Lord Palmerston claims that by
this treaty the British Government did not
terminate the protectorship, which, he af-
firms, it had always maintained over the
Mosquito Indians. He says that the thir-
teenth article of that treaty is, de facto., an
act of protectorship. But that article ex-
plains the sole reason of its introduction.
It reads — " prompted solely hy duties of
humanity., his Catholic Majesty promises
that he will exercise no acts of sovereignty
against the Mosquitos inhabiting in part
the countries to be evacuated by virtue of
this convention, on account of the con-
nection which may have subsisted between
the said Indians and the English. And
His Britannic Majesty, on his part, wiU
strictly prohibit his subjects from furnish-
ing arms or warlike stores to the Indians in
general situated upon the frontiers of the
Spanish possessions." This is only the
stipulation of a powerful confederate in a
crime, in favor of his weaker associate ;
and so far from being an act of protector-
ship, recognizes the right of Spain, with-
out some such provision, to punish her
rebellious Indian subjects, who had ex-
posed themselves to her just anger by aid-
ing foreign enemies in an attack upon her
sovereignty. His Lordship's conclusion is
a palpable non sequiter. If such an in-
terposition as this is an act or evidence of
protectorship, then are all the Indians of
Canada under the protection of the United
States ; for by the treaty of Ghent, of the
24th of Dec, 1814, " His Britannic Ma-
jesty agrees to put an end to all hostilities
in which he may be engaged with the In-
dian tribes, and to restore to them respect-
ively all the possessions, rights and privi-
leges which they were entitled to in the year
1811." Of a piece with this last argument,
but if possible still weaker, is the claim
that, as "the British Government engages
not to allow British subjects to furnish arms
to the Indians in general situated upon the
frontiers of the Spanish possessions, and
by the immediately preceding mention of
Mosquitos, in the same sentence, it is suf-

1850.]

The Mosquito Questio7i,

263

ficiently clear that they are intended to be
included among the number of Indians
situated upon the frontiers of the Spanish
possessions, which possessions, if they in-
cluded the Mosquito coast, could have had
no frontier except the ocean," — therefore
his Lordship avers, " it is plain that the
treaty of 1786 proves that the Mosquitos
were considered by the contracting parties,
as a nation separate and independent!"
If ever so weighty a conclusion was sus-
pended on so slender a thread, history has
failed to record it. The whole argument,
if it can be dignified as such, is simply a pet-
ty quibble on the word frontier ! a verbal
quibble too shallow to deceive any one.
When his Lordship hears of Indian out-
breaks on the '•'• frontiers ai Canada," does
he sip his coffee and conclude that the
trouble is in the United States, or in the
Russian possessions } If he reads of sim-
ilar outbreaks on the frontiers of the Uni-
ted States, does he send for the Minister
of War and inquire whether the trouble is
in Canada or Mexico } If he reads of a
French army that has been ordered to the
eastern frontiers of the Republic, does he
hurry on to learn whether it has entered
Germany, is sweeping over the cantons of
Switzerland, or descending the Alps into
Italy .?

The frontiers of a country are the por-
tions lying immediately within its bounda-
ries, as Lord Palmerston weU knows,
whether the boundaries are a chain of
mountains, a river, the sea, or an imagi-
nary line.

Nothing is more common than to hear
the Indians of the western parts of Canada
and the United States referred to, as upon
the western frontiers of these countries, but
according to Palmerston's new vocabulary,
the.se countries have neither eastern or
western frontiers.

We have already shown in what light
Spain regarded the Mosquito coast subse-
quently to the treaty of 1783, by an ex-
tract from a royal letter dated 1785. His
lordship says, " it is clear that by the
treaty of 1786 the Mosquitos were recog-
nized, as independent hy both contracting
parties. "^^ The basis of this conclusion, as
we have shown, is at the best a forced and
unnatural construction. But fortunately,

we have documental evidence which makes
it very " clear" that no such recognition
was intended by Spain, whatever may have
been the " mental reservations'''' of Eng-
land. Some time after the conclusion of
this treaty, Don Juan de Ayssa, Lieuten-
ant Governor of Nicaragua, took the lib-
erty of making some kind of a treaty with
the Mosquitos. Upon this coming to the
knowledge of Estacheria, Governor-Gene-
ral of Guatemala, he wrote to Ayssa under
date " March 7, 1789," saying, "intelli-
gence has reached me of a treaty (pacta)
which you have concluded with the Mos-
quito chief, Carlos Antonio de Castilla
Bretot, which has given rise to diSieulties,
as appearing to invalidate the sovereignty
and jurisdiction which Spain has always
had over the Mosquitos and Sambos. [He
then quotes the declaration of the King of
Spain already presented, and concludes,]
In consequence, therefore, of the positive
sovereignty which the King of Spain has
always maintained over the Mosquitos and
Sambos, I order you instantly (luego luegoj
to recover and send to me the original of
said pact or treaty, with all the copies of the
same, and the documents pertaining there-
to, inasmuch as they are all in opposition
to the royal will." Ayssa replied, trans-
mitting a copy only of his "pact," where-
upon the Governor-General wrote a still
more urgent letter dated " April 4, 1789."

" Having receiveil the dujilicate copy of the
agreement with the Mosco Chief, Cailos Anto-
nio de Castilla, which you sent with your letter
of the 23d March ult., I notify you that I am
waiting for the original copies, extracts, or
transcriptions which were made by Lieuten-
ant Colonel Antonio Samper, and which you
were to recover ; and as I am convinced that
the said Chief Carlos should not be allowed
to possess any copy or extract from them, I or-
der you to inform me definitely, whether he
has any such documents or not, and in case
he has, I order you to advise the Governor (of
Nicaragua) not to leave this matter unattend-
ed to when he goes to Tubapi, and that he
may take them (the documents^ away from
him (the Chief Carlos) making use of the best
means and pretexts, for it would be most ab-
surd, if in the present friendly relation w^ith
this caste, he should be permitted to hold a
document implying that it has at any time
been independent of Spain; and when, not-
withstanding the enmities and hostilities
which have transpired. His Majesty has de-

264

TJie Mosquito Question.

[March,

clared that the crown ' has never recognized
tacitly or explicitly their independence."

God preserve you many years.

Jose Estacheria.
To the Senior Counsellor of the Government

and Intendency of Leon, (Nicaragua.)"

But his Lordship is not to be deceived
by his own arguments. He is painfully
conscious that they are untenable ; and re-
treats upon his first position, which, as it
involves no questions of fact, and is simply
a bold assertion, seems to offer him better
shelter than any other. He says, " but if
these acts [the treaties referred to,] did in-
validate both the independence of Mosqui-
to and the protectorship of Great Britain,
as between England and Spain, what
would that have been to Nicaragua .?"
This reminds us of the plea of the country
lawyer about the kettle : " In the first
place, the kettle was cracked when we got
it ; in the second place, it was whole when
we returned it; and in the third place, we
never had the kettle !" What is that to
Nicaragua ? In good sooth, my Lord, it
is in itself sufficient to establish her claims,
apart from any other considerations.

After the kingdom of Guatemala had
effected its independence, a convention was
called to organize a general constitution,
which was done on the 22d of November,
1824, and acceded to by all thj provinces
now raised to the dignity of States. By
tit. 1, sec. 2, art. 5, of this instrument,
it is declared : —

" The territory of the Republic is the same
which was comprehended in the ancient king-
dom of Guatemala, with the exception for the
present of the province of Chiapas."

In the Law 6, tit. 16, lib. 2, of the
" Recopilation of the Indies ^'''^ the bound-
aries of the Kingdom of Guatemala, are
thus set forth : —

" In the city of Santiago de los Caballeros,
in the province of Guatemala, is our Court
and Royal Chancery, (Audiencia y Chancel-
leria Real,) with a President, Governor, and
Captain-General, five Judges, with also Crim-
inal Alcaldes, a Treasurer, an Alguacil Ma-
jor, a Vice Chancellor, and the other neces-
sary Ministers and Officials; and they have
for their jurisdiction the said province of Gua-
temala, and those of Nicaragua, Clieipas,
Higueras, Honduras, Vera Paz, and Saconn-
Bco, with the islands of the coast. The parts

to the northward terminate with the Andience
of the main land, (Mexico); on the west-
ward, with that of New Gallicia, and it (the
jurisdiction) extends from the North to the
South Seas."

From the provinces of the ancient king-
dom were formed five States: Costa Rica,
Nicaragua, Honduras, San Salvador, and
Guatemala. The constitution defined their
limits, sec. 1, art. 15, chap. 2. Costa
Rica is defined as follows :

"The territory of this State extends, for
the present, from east to west, from the river
Salto, which divides it from Nicaragua, to the
river of Cheriqui, which separates it from the
Republic of Colombia ; and from the North to
the South Seas." '^ Upon the north," it also
states, " its territories extend from the mouth
of the river San Juan to the Escuda of Nica-
ragua ; and on the south coast, from the mouth
of the Alvarado to that of the Cheriqui."

The territories of Nicaragua are defined
as comprehending :

" The departments of Nicaragua, Grenada,
Masaya, Manugua, Matagalpa, Segovia,
Leon, Subtiaba, and Realesjo : its' limits are
on the east, the sea of the Antilles, on the
north the State of Honduras, on the west, the
Gulf of Conchagua^and the Pacific ocean, and
on the south-east, the free State of Costa
Rica."

After the dismemberment of the Repub-
lic, Nicaragua transcribed those limits in
the fundamental law.

The Republic of Central America, pro-
claiming these limits, was recognised by
Great Britain, who, as early as 1826,
opened diplomatic relations with its Govern-
ment, and in 1838, was also formally re-
cognized by Spain, as we have already
seen ; who, by that act, relinquished what-
ever rights she may have possessed, over
all parts of the territory of the Republic
as proclaimed in her constitution.

Upon the dissolution of the Republic,
and the organization of Nicaragua as a
sovereign State, Great Britain opened di-
plomatic relations with her, which have
been continued to this time ; thus recog-
nizing her independent existence. In 1839,
the British Government went so far as to
promise its mediation in favor of Nicar-
agua, in the war then existing between that
State and Morazan. It has since received

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

265

Ministers from Nicaragua, and in the most
positive manner recognized her national
existence. So much generally. Now we
stand ready to prove that the particular
port of San Juan, which after all, from its
controlling position, is the principal object
of his Lordship's ambition, and which has
given rise to the troubles already recount-
ed,— that this port has not always been in
the possession of the Spaniards, and their
legitimate successors, but has been effect-
ively acknowledged by Great Britain to be-
long to the State of Nicaragua.

From the establishment of settlements,
and the founding of the city of Grenada, on
the Lake of Nicaragua, the commerce of
that town has been carried on through the
river and port of Sac Juan. To protect
this route, works of the most massive and
costly character were established upon its
banks. The ancient castle of San Juan, is
one of the most remarkable defensive struc-
tures on the continent, and even now, al-
though in ruins, excites the wonder and
admiration of the traveller. If settlements
were not founded on its shores, or if a large
town did not grow up at the port, it was
because the magnificent interior offered, in
climate and other respects, greater advan-
tages to the colonist. But the occupation
of the river was not less actual in conse-
quence of the paucity of inhabitants on its
banks. We have the testimony of Gage
and others, that as early as 1665, estab-
lishments provided with mules, were kept
up to i^icUitate the transportation of goods,
and the ascent and descent of vessels. The
fort of San Juan, as appears by an inscrip-
tion on its walls, was rebuilt in 1747, at
which time not less than twelve military
stations were established at intervals from
the head of the river to its mouth. Among
these was the castle of San Carlos, on the
hill at the junction of the river of that
name with the San Juan, which is now
claimed to fall within the territory of Mos-
quito ! The traces of these stations still
exist, and have been seen by the writer of
this article. This was the most eifective
kind of occupation. But this is not all.
By a royal order, issued by the King of
Spain, and dated February, 26, 1796 ;
" in order that the people of Nicaragua
might trade direct with Spain," the port of
San Juan de Nicaragua was made a port of
entry, and acquu-ed thereby the privileges

attached to such ports. By a royal order
of 27th March following, regulations were
made for promoting the settlement of the
country in the neighborhood of that port,
among which was one authorising the intro-
duction into the ports of Spain, of dye or
other woods cut there, as also coffee, grown
there, yVee of duty. In the report of the
committee of Fortifications of the Indies, of
the date of September 30th, 1803, it is
stated, that the inhabitants of the island of
St. Andrews, off the coast of Mosquito, and
evacuated by the English at the same time,
had the year previously raised 4000 quin-
tals of cotton. For his energy in promo-
ting industry, it is proposed[in this report,
to raise the salary of the Governor of this
island, and also to place the Mosquito coast
under his general direction. This report
speaks in high terms of this island as a
foint d'appui to " protect and attend to
the useful establishments in the desert coast
of Mosquito, and to encourage, in due time,
those which the committee propose to es-
tablish anew in Cape Gracias a Dios and
the Bay of Bluefields, as set forth in the
memorial presented to your Majesty on the
5th of August last. " On the 25th of Sep-
tember, the King of Spain issued a
royal order in reference to the Mosquito
coast, in which it is said, " that the defence
of the kingdom of Guatemala is insepa-
rable from the obligations respecting this
coast." On the 21st of October, the com-
mittee reported to the King, that in gar-
risoning the settlements on this coast, there
were then employed, "19 officers and 150
men of the permanent regiment of Gua-
temala, and 16 officers and 50 men of
the militia, which were relieved every
four months." In fact, the whole paper,
which is very long, is devoted to sug-
gesting the best means to defend and
encourage the settlements on the Mosquito
coast, and promote the establishments of
new ones. Among the measures for this
purpose, they suggest that presents be
made to the Indians, and treaties made with
them," &c., &c.

At this time there was maintained at San
Juan a small military force, which was
augmented, as we have seen, by an order
of the Captain-General of Guatemala, in
May 2, 1821, and new defences erected.
It was duly taken possession of, after the
independence of Central America, and

266

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

being within the province of Nicaragua, it
remained in its possession afterward as a
federal State and as an independent Re-
public.

That it was recognized by Great Britain
as a port of Nicaragua, appears from
the fact that it was blockaded, by order of
the British Government, in 1842, and
in the year 1844. These blockades
were carried into eflfect by Vice Ad-
miral Adam Knight, " Commander-in-
chief of the British forces in North Amer-
ica, the West Indies and adjacent seas."
The last, instituted Jan. 24, 1844, was
declared in order to recover the sum of
$14,009, alledged to be due to British
subjects. It declares " blockaded the port
of San Juan de Nicaraugua, and that all
commerce with that port shall cease, until
all the claims of Her Britannic Majesty's
subjects are satisfied, and to that effect a
sufficient force will be placed before said
port."

What Lord Palmerston calls affirmative
evidence, is all disproved by the facts ad-
duced at the outset of this memoir. It
may be admitted to be true, that the Gov-
ernor of Jamaica, with, perhaps, at times,
the connivance of the British Government,
kept up some kind of communication with
the Mosquito Shore, and intrigued against
the legitimate sovereignty of the country.
Yet all such acts were illegal, and in vio-
lation of the principles adopted by Euro-
pean nations relating to territorial rights in
America, and practically and repeatedly
disapproved by England. Their recapitu-
lation proves nothing ; it is only a declared
detail of protracted aggressions and flagrant
attacks on the sovereignty of Spain, the
recital of which weakens instead of sup-
porting the pretences which Great Britain
has lately thought proper, for obvious rea-
sons, to set up.

We now claim to have proved, beyond
reach of successful contradiction, —

1st. That the Spaniards discovered the en-
tire Mosquito coast, and occupied portions
of it, before a subject of any other country
ever placed his foot upon the soil of Central
America.

2d. That it is a well-established principle
of international law, that D/score/-)/ invests the
discoverer with an exclusive right to sover-
eignty, and that, therefore,, this coast belong-

ed to Spain, as truly as the coasts of Mexico
or Peru.

3d. That the original rights of Spain were
never invalidated by any lawful act, and,
were in full existence, until the independence
of her colonies, which acquired her rights, in
virtue of natural and international law, and
by the formal relinquishment of them by
Spain.

4th. That Great Britain repeatedly, by her
acts and treaties, recognized the exclusive
sovereignty of Spain over that coast.

5th. That the coast was included, and of
right, in the territory of the Republic of Cen-
tral America, which Republic, as thus consti-
tuted, was recognized by Great Britain.

6th. That the coast was comprehended
within the territorial limits of the several
States of the Central American Republic;
that the parts falling within the State of Ni-
caragua pertained to her, and, of right, when
she became an independent Republic, as she
did, upon the dissolution of the confederacy ;
and that so constituted, she w"as recognized by
Great Britain, which power also recognized,
specifically, the proper jurisdiction of Nicar-
agua over the part of San Juan, by official
acts of a conclusive nature.

These premises established, how stands
the pretensions of Great Britain .'' We
leave the answer to a British writer of
ability, who investigated the subject fully,
and who thus sums up the results of his
inquiries in the " British Quarterly Re-
view,^^ Vol. XXVIII., 1822-23, p. 159:

''Nothing can more clearly establish the sole
right of Spain to these territories, than the
treaties and evacuations above mentioned.
We never had any right there. If treaties are
to be considered as at all binding, it is clear
that we have not the right, nor even the per-
mission of residence on the Mosquito shore ;
and that we cut logwood and mahogany on
the shores of Honduras, only by sufferance."'

This conclusion will be concurred in by
every impartial mind.

The practical question now is, shall
Great Britain be allowed to perpetrate
these aggressions with impunity.'' Can the
United States and the commercial world
permit her to obstruct or control that great
canal across the Isthmus of Nicaragua, the
construction and freedom of which is so
essential to the interests of mankind ? Can
the flagrant violations of principle which
these aggressions involve, be allowed to

1850.]

The Mosquito Question.

267

pass into a precedent ? And can the Uni-
ted States, and the other Republics of
America, permit the extension of monarchi-
cal institutions over countries in fact and
of right free and independent Republics ?
So far as the United States is concerned,
we feel sure that the response to all these
questions will be, an emphatic and indig-
nant negative.

President Monroe, as early as 1823,
promulgated a principle which lies at the
foundation of American policy, and is
unanimously sanctioned by American sen-
timent. Speaking of the monarchical
powers of Europe, he said : — " We owe it
in candor to the amicable relations existinor

between them and the United States, to
declare, that we shall consider any attempt
upon their part to extend their system to
any portion of the American continent, as
dangerous to our peace and safety." He
also added, that the " United States can-
not fail to view any interference, on the
part of any European power, for the pur-
pose of oppressing them, or in any manner
controlling the destinies of the Spanish
American Republics, as the manifestation
of an unfriendly disposition towards her-
self."

These positions are right, and must be
sustained.

[The following are documents partly
omitted between pages 202 and 203.]

grant to john sebastian rennick.
Be known by these presents, and by
posterity, that we, robert cliarles
Frederic, King of the Mosquito Na-
tion, consiJerino; the services which may be
made to us, and to our nation, by John Se-
hastian Rennick, of the city of London, mer-
chant ; and in consideration of the sum of
£1,000, which said Rennick has paid to us,
and the receipt of which we hereby acknow-
ledge, with our own free will, we grant and
convey, by the same, under the Seal of our
kino;dom, in favor of said John Sebastian Ren-
nick, his heirs and representatives forever, all
the river Patook, located between 15 deg. 48
min. N. lat., and 84 deg. 14 min. W. long.,
at the distance of 49 miles from the mouth of
a certain river of our kingdom, called Black
River, to the E. S. E. thereof, together with
the whole territory adjacent said River Pa-
took, viz : 10 English miles measured from
each bank of said river, from its mouth
as far as the Spanish limits, (according to the
map of Com. Owen), with all the cultivable
lands, meadow.s, pastures, waters, woods, for-
ests, streams, and waterfalls, fisheries, duties
and rights belonging to said lands, or to any
part of them whatever. Item. — Said Rennick
and his heirs, or representatives, shall hold
and possess said lands and properties, and
they, and the inhabitants of said lands, shall
have the right to make use of them, to go in or
out of them, and to navigate in all the rivers
or waters in, or adjacent to them, without let
or hindrance on the part of our subjects, and
they may introduce foreigners, and all kinds
of persons to populate and colonize said dis-

VOL. V. NO. III. NEW SERIES.

trict, and cultivate lands, &c., &c., &c., &c.,
and the said Rennick, his heirs, or successors^
shall have the right to impose and receive con-
tributions, taxes, and duties, such as they shall
deem proper, upon and from the inhabitants of
said district, and upon goods ivhich may be im-
ported or exported, according to the use and
customs of European nations. And, lastly, we
renounce, for all future time, the right to im-
pose duties or taxes of every kind upon the in-
habitants of said district, their persons or prop-
erty, and upon all goods which may be import-
ed or exported, fyc., Ifc. And we, and all our
subjects, bind ourselves to make good and
true this our will.

Done and Sealed with the Seal of our kingdom,
the 20th of Sept., 1838.

ROBERT CHARLES FREDERIC.
Signed and Sealed before the witnesses, who
equally have signed.

James Bowden,

Geo. R. Brown,

Geo. Peddie,

Edward Davies.

This grant, it will be seen, is an absolute
renunciation of sovereignty over the limits
described, and which are indicated in the
accompanying map.

On the 2Sth of January following, the
same " independent sovereign," " by and
with the consent of his chiefs," conveyed
to Samuel Shepherd, Peter Shepherd, and
S. T. Haly, British subjects, and inhabi-
tants of Jamaica, another large portion of
his pretended dominions :

CESSION to shepherd AND OTHERS.

Know all men present and to come,
That WE, ROBERT CHARLES FREDERIC,

268

The Mosquito Question.

[March,

King of the Mosquito Nation, by and with
the consent of our Chief s^ and in consideration
of the true and laudable services to us render-
ed, and hereafter to be rendered by Samuel
Shepherd, Peter Shepherd, and Stanislaus
Thomas Haly, late of the Island of Jamaica,
of our special grace and of our certain know>
ledge, and our free motion. Have given and
granted and by these presents sealed with our
seal, Do give and grant unto the said Samuel
Shepherd, Peter Shepherd, and Stanislaus
Thomas Haly, their Heirs and Assigns : All
that tract or district of land, situate, lying and
being between the South side of Great River,
and the Northern Bank of Bluefields Main
River, butting and bounding Westward on the
Spanish lines, and Eastward on the Sea coast,
together with all that tract or- district of land
situate, lying, and being between the South
side of Biuetields Main River and the Northern
Bank of Saint John's River of Nicaragua, but-
ting and bounding Westward on the Span-
ish lines, and Eastward on the Sea coast, to-
gether with all arable lands, meadows, pas-
tures, waters, trees, woods, underwoods,
and the ground and soil thereof, mines, min-
erals, quarries, ways, waters, water-courses,
forests, chases, parks, warrens, fishings,
fisheries, and all and singular the liberties and
profits of the said lands or any part thereof
deemed or known as part or member, with
their and every of their appurtenances, to have
and to hold the same unto the said Sam-
uel Shepherd, Peter Shepherd, and Stanislaus
Thomas Haly, their Heirs and Assigns, for-
ever as tenants in common and not as
joint tenants : And we do hereby declare, that
it shall be lawful for the said Samuel Shep-
herd, Peter Shepherd, and Stanislaus Thomas
Haly, their Heirs, and Assigns, on the said
tract or district to erect houses and other
buildings, and to introduce foreigners to set-
tle upon and colonize the said tract or district
and to cultivate the land thereof; and further^
that it shall and may be lawful for the said
Samuel Shepherd, Peter Shepherd, and Stan-
islaus Thomas Haly, their Heirs and Assigns,
and the inhabitants of the said tract or district,
freely to pass and repass to and from the said
tract or district, and to navigate all rivers and
waters running through the said tract or dis-

trict or communicating therewith or with any
parts thereof, and to cut the timber and un-
derwoods on the said tract or district of land,
and to hold and carry away, and to mine for
and get the said mines, minerals and quar-
ries, and to hold and carry away the same,
and to hunt and fish, and the produce of such
huntings and fishings to hold and carry away
as their owp proper goods and chattels with-
out the let, suit, or hindrance of us or our
subjects. And we do hereby declare that we
will not at any time hereafter impose any
taxes, dues or customs upon the said Samuel
Shepherd, Peter Shepherd, and Stanislaus
Thomas Haly, their Heirs or Assigns, or upon
the inhabitants of the said tract or district, or
their lands, goods or chattels, without the con-
sent of the said Samuel Shepherd, Peter Shep-
herd, and Stanislaus Thomas Haly, their Heirs
or Assigns, and that we and our subjects will
not trouble or molest the same, but will at all
times do all things which may tend to their
succor and protection.

Given under our hand and Seal, the twenty-
fourth day of January, one thousand eight
hundred and thirty-nine, and in the fourteenth
year of our reign, and then executed on paper
in the presence of these witnesses, to wit, J. M.
Daly, G. C. Shepherd, G. Vize, F. Bouchet,
Robert Haly, and ST. Haly,jr , and now re-exe-
cuted on parchment, as a duplicate, this 28th
day of November, in the year of our Lord, and
in the year of our reign as aforesaid.

ROBERT CHARLES FREDERIC.

Be it remembered that on the Twenty-fourth
day of January, one thousand eight hundred
and thirty-nine, peaceable and quiet possession
of the lands and other hereditaments within
mentioned to be granted and enfeofTed, was
taken and had by the within named Samuel
Shepherd, Peter Shepherd, and Stanislaus
Thomas Haly ] and by the said Robert Charles
Frederic delivered to the said Samuel Shep-
herd, Peter Shepherd, and Stanislaus Thomas
Haly, their Heirs and Assigns forever, in the
presence of us.

Signed, sealed and delivered in the presence
of us, George Vize, Thomas Lowry Robinson,
General Peter Slam.

1850.]

Everstone.

269

EVERSTONE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " ANDERPORT RECORDS."

( Continued from page 1S7 J

CHAPTER V.

Few lawyers, 1 hope, deserve to be
likened to satan. Yet Somers, as he en-
tered the Everstone grounds, felt almost
as much compunction as if he had been, in
very truth, Milton's hero gliding stealthily
through the gate of Paradise. He saw
around him a scene of beauty and happi-
ness, and could not but be conscious that
he was laboring with all his might to intro-
duce desolation and sorrow. Yet his mo-
tives were unselfish. This reflection gave
his mind support, though it failed to give
it perfect peace.

What would be thought of him coming
there at that season ? W ould he seem a
churl, insolent, hard-hearted, devoid of all
sense of propriety .''

This query found no very satisfactory
answer in the manner of his reception.
Everlyn could not be otherwise than cour-
teous ; but what is there worse to bear
than cold and distant civility ? The dif-
ference in Sidney was stUl more striking ;
for as she was by nature frank and undis-
sembling, any degree of reserve sat ill upon
her. Somers tried to place himself on the
familiar footing which he had formerly oc-
cupied in that house, but it was impossible.
He was treated as a stranger, to whom hos-
pitality is due, and nothing more. His
situation was indeed far less comfortable
than that of a stranger ; for what visiter,
thrown, for the first time, into a Southern
household, and previously unknown, it may
be, to each of its inmates, does not find
himself immediately at ease .? If Somers
attempted to begin explanations, Everlyn
carefully changed the conversation to some

indifferent matter, his demeanor seeming io
express that he was quite unaware of the
existence of any circumstance needing
elucidation or amendment-

The guest had not made up his mind to
take a hasty leave, which movement he
thought might imply a tacit acknowledg-
ment of the suitableness of the newly as-
sumed basis of social intercourse, when he
heard the noise of carriage wheels without.
Heartily glad he was of the diversion, for
his patience and conversational resources
were alike near exhaustion. Presently,
who should enter but Mr. Astiville and
lady .?

" Worse and worse !" murmured Som-
ers.

The cordiality manifested towards these
welcome guests, afforded a marked con-
trast to the greeting which had been
bestowed on him. After the interchange
of salutations and hearty grasp of hands,
it was remembered that there was a third
party in the circle. Mr. Astiville nodded
his head slightly — it was never his custom
to bow — and stared with dilated eye-balls,
as if to convince himself that he did not
mistake the person whom he saw there.
To Mr. Astiville, Somers was formally in-
troduced. As all took their seats, his chair
happened to be some distance from the
group in which the others were collected.
It is awkward to be a listener to observa-
tions not addressed to you. Somers find-
ing it so, was on the watch for an opportu-
nity to alter the posture of affairs. Pretty
soon Everlyn and Astiville got engaged in
discourse across Sidney, who was sitting

270

Everstone.

[March,

between them. In a rocking-chair, apart
from the trio, meditated Mrs. Astiville.

" That's a clever-looking old lady — I'll
try her." Accordingly the resolute attor-
ney moved his seat to her side.

" Are you just from home, madam .?"
" The clever old lady," now, for the
first time, turning partially towards him,
and after a deliberate examination of his
features and person, answered :

" I have just come from Greywood."
" You had a pleasant drive, doubtless ;
at least, 1 know that the portion of the
road this side of the run has been so skill-
fully conducted by Mr. Everlyn as to fur-
nish a delightful variety of prospects."

" I have not crossed the Hardwater,
sir," said Mrs. Astiville, dryly.

" Ah, indeed ! I understood you to say,
madam, that you had come directly from
your residence."

" I did say so, sir ; but, perhaps you are
not familiar with our neighborhood. The
Hardwater flows south of this, while Grey-
wood lies to the north. The only stream
of any consequence which I have had to
cross is what has sometimes been called
the Upper Branch."

Somers, not choosing to waste on the
good lady arguments that ought to be re-
served for a more impartial tribunal, bowed
in submissive acknowledgment of her more
accurate information. Common topics,
however, were scarce ; he could not afford
to abandon that with which he had started.
The best that could be done was to confine
one's self to safe generalities.

" This is a fine country," he remarked,
"to be enjoyed by the traveller on horse-
back, but the roads, I think, except in the
immediate vicinity of a gentleman's resi-
dence, cannot be perfectly safe for any ve-
hicle less substantially constructed than a
four-horse wagon."

Mrs. Astiville returned a simple assent.
" There is an especial negligence," con-
tinued Somers, " in providing convenient
modes of access to the various places of
worship. I was much affected the other
day at seeing a venerable Episcopal church,
built, I understand, before the Kevolution,
almost in utter ruin ; and on making in-
quiry, was informed that some of the fam-
ilies that had been in the habit of attending
it, had moved away, and that others at a
distance were deterred from assembling

there by the almost impassable condition of
the roads."

This touched a sympathetic cord in the
old lady's breast, and she responded with
a degree of animation :

" You refer, no doubt, to the chvirch of
St. Michael. I am greatly grieved at the
state it is in, for many were the times in
my youth that I heard the service read
from its desk. Of late years, I have at-
tended the church near Reveltown. It is
farther, but the road there is far better."

"Yes," said Somers, "that is a road
which might be called good in any coun-
try. I believe we are indebted for its
admirable condition to the Northern set-
tlers."

Mrs. Astiville, upon this home-thrust at
preiudice, hastened to withdraw within her
shell.

" It is possible," she said.

Her husband came to her rescue. " I
do not know," he observed, "that we
ought to attribute the improvements in the
vicinity of the new settlement to the char-
acter of the population so much as to its
density. The Yankee animals are of a
gregarious kind and nestle together, so that
they can without difficulty make a consid-
erable show within the narrow limits to
which they confine themselves."

" Well," returned the lawyer, indiffer-
ently, " I am disposed to be thankful to
them for the road, without troubling my-
self to investigate the cause of their ability
or inclination to make it."

" I agree with that sentiment so hearti-
ly," remarked Mr. Everlyn, " that I could
be content never to have an opportunity
of observing them more closely. But,
unfortunately, they do not adhere to their
rule of always clustering together, and
occasionally send off stragglers who pitch
their tents nearer by than some of us have
reason to desire."

Somers, perceiving that the turn which
the talk was taking was not calculated to
make him feel a whit more at his ease, rose
up. But at that instant a peal of thunder
shook the house. Everlyn lowered the
sashes of the windows, and said :

" You must not think of going yet, sir ;
we are about to have a heavy gust."

Somers saw the necessity of tarrying.
While he waited, tea was served. Then
the luckless guest found his escape quite

1850.]

Everstone.

271

cut off, for the thunder shower had become
a settled rain. If he had been a physician
he might have pleaded the danger of some
patient, but no other pretence would have
been held to justify offering such an indig-
nity to his entertainer as a departure at
night, and in a storm, must have involved.
There was no alternative, therefore, but to
stay; yet, on that evening, "the worst
inn's worst room" would have pleased
Somers better than the parlor of Everstone,
adorned though it were by the presence of
its mistress. Indeed, as far as his benefit
was concerned, the young lady might as
well have been a picture on the wall, for
no opportunity would she allow him to talk
with her. Again he had to fall back upon
Mrs. Astiville. Knowing her interest in
the clergy, he discussed the respective ad-
vantages of written and unwritten ser-
mons, made critical observations upon the
style of delivery of various neighboring
preachers, and analyzed most thoroughly
the knotty question as to the propriety and
expediency of a system of free-pews. The
way thus smoothed, he ventured to inquire
whether she did not think it a good sign
for the Northerners that they showed a dis-
position to build churches.
She admitted it, though rather reluctantly.

" Then," said he, " there are at least
two good things about them ; they build
churches and make roads. Are they not also
industrious and frugal .'"'

*' Perhaps so," replied Mrs. Astiville,
observing his drift, and preparing to relapse
into coldness.

Somers continued perseveringly, " Is it
not impossible that persons like these, or-
derly, industrious, and religiously inclined,
can fail to make good citizens .^"

" Tastes differ," said Mrs. Astiville,
" for my part, I prefer the manners and
character of the old race."

" I agree with you in that opinion," re-
joined Somers, frankly," but let us consider
that there are not enough of us Southerners
to fill up the country. It does seem to
me, therefore, a most fortunate cicumstance
that our deficiency of numbers can be sup-
plied by immigrants liable to so little ob-
jection as are these gentlemen from the
North."

" Ah, but," said the old lady, folding up
her spectacles and speaking with energy,
" it would not be so bad if they would live

and let live, but I fear they are going to
push away the ancient families as well as
the ancient land-marks. Their improve-
ments, which you speak of, commence with
devastation. I can bear to see the ruin
which time makes. A tree that I played
under in childhood may decay and lose one
branch after another ; the spectacle may-
sadden, but it does not pain — it only shows
that the material universe and I, exist un-
der the same law. If a family be smitten
by Providence, and the homestead be left
to crumble, unguarded and without repair,
beneath the summer's rain and winter's
frost, that is an object to make one sigh
and weep, but it does not stir one's anger
like a sight which I saw no longer ago than
yesterday. Doubtless you know where the
old Seymour mansion is situated .'"

" You mean that near Anderport — built,
I have heard, by Wriothesly Ander."

" Yes, the same. Well, sir, my grand-
mother was a Seymour ; and yesterday,
being in the neighborhood, I thought to
gratify myself by one other visit to the old
place. I knew it had fiiUen into the hands of
strangers — they may have come from Mas-
sachusetts, or New York, or Pennsylvania,
I never inquired their origin — but certain
I am, that our kindly southern sun did not
shine upon the place of their birth. They
have bought house and land ; from the one,
it is said, they raise large crops ; the other
makes them an indifferent barn — Yes, sir,
a ham. The oaks which stood around the
building and which had been the pride and
wonder of seven generations, stand there
no more. Long piles of fire-wood andhuge
prostrate trunks appear in their stead to
deface the lawn and give it the air of a
lumber-merchant's yard. In the great hall
of the mansion we found a corn-sheller at
work, whilst the adjacent rooms contained
heaps of different sorts of grain. The plas-
tering in many places had fallen and dis-
closed the bricks. We were permitted to
enter the apartment which civilization had
used as a parlor. Our way was obstructed
by rough upright studs, placed there to sup-
port the joists above, which, solid as they
are, were not calculated for such novel
burdens as are now imposed. In adjusting
the tops of these studs, the beautifully
moulded ceiling had been stripped away
without remorse. Unable to remain long-
er a spectator of the havoc which had been

272

Everstone.

[March,

committed within, I walked out to the rear,
where a piazza stretches the whole length
of the main building. Northern architect-
ural skill it seems had detected here a super-
abundance, as in another place a deficiency
of strenth. The second floor of the piazza,
laid upon beams imbedded deep in the wall,
was deemed to require no additional sup-
port. The lower columns^ therefore, of
polished cedar, were found quite superfluous,
and in the progress of reform, had been re-
moved, probably to serve as support for
gates, through which Northern-bred oxen
may pass with as Uttle inconvenience as
possible to the labor-saving boors who drive
them. But what need to recount the things
I saw — such spectacles will soon become
familiar and common under the operation
of the modern system."

" I grieve as much as any one," replied
Somers, " to witness the decline of an old
and honored family, but do not let us mis-
take consequences for causes. Are these
settlers to be blamed for the errors or mis-
fortunes of those who preceded them } Are
they accountable for the waste and aban-
donment which invite them hither .^"

"No," answered Mrs Astiville, prompt-
ly, " nor does the bird of carrion slay the
carcass !"

Somers, without regarding the old lady's
interjectional remark, proceeded, " Differ-
ent orders of beings have their different in-
stincts and habits of action. It is so
amongst the lower animals, audit is so with
the various races of mankind. The Indian
thinks an edifice like this in which we are
now sitting an unseemly excrescence upon
the face of nature ; the clearing which,
Mr. Everlyn has made with such happy
judgment, the savage would call wanton
destruction. The practical New Yorker
differs from both. Shall we blame him ;
and for what .?"

" His want of taste," said Mrs. Asti-
ville.

"But, madam, may not the planter in
his turn meet the same accusation from the
Indian. What is taste V

The lady hesitated awhile, then turning
to Miss Everlyn, who, she perceived, was
an attentive listener to the dialogue, she
said, " supply me with a definition, Sid-
ney."

" Taste, it seems to me," responded

Miss Everlyn, " is the sense of fitness in
the arrangement of objects."

" Yes, that is it precisely," Mrs. Asti-
ville said, directing her eyes again towards
the gentleman.

" I, too," said Somers, " am quite con-
tent with the definition. Let us apply it.
Is the Indian destitute of taste, because he
prefers the natural rugged grandeur of the
forest, to the changes introduced by civi-
lization .?"

" By no means," returned the elder
lady, " He does not violate the law of pro-
priety, for was not the forest made for
man .?"

" But how is it," resumed the lawyer,
" with the Southern colonists who succeed-
ed the savage, and who built mansions, le-
velled spacious lawns, and conducted ser-
pentine carriage-ways through groves and
verdant meadows } They have disturbed
that adjustment of nature for adlaering to
which the Indian receives your approval."
Mrs. Astiville saw the conclusion to
which her opponent wished to drive her,
and warily attempted an escape.

" Necessity compels us to deviate in some
degree from the unsophisticated simplicity
of nature, but we obey taste, and go no
further than our wants require. We cannot
live, like the savage, by hunting ; to raise
grain some trees must be cleared away, but
we leave as many standing as this stern ne-
cessity allows. The world, as it came from
the hand of the Creator, is better than any
we can make ; we prove our taste, there-
fore, by defacing it as little as possible."

Somers smiled, " I yield to you, madam,
as to the trees. In truth, I never could
myself see one felled without a degree of
pain. I can understand the pathos of that
expression of Holy Writ — ' His hope is re-
moved nice a tree.'' But how does the case
stand with regard to habitations .'' You
acknowledge the wigwam to be a tasteful
structure, yet nothing can be more unlike
a wigwam than a dwellino- such as this, or
the rough-cast mansion at Anderport.
There is no burden of necessity here, for
surely it is as easy to eat bread under a
roof of skins as it is to eat venison.''''

" The Indian's dwelling," replied Mrs,
Astiville, " agrees with his way of life ; so
does ours with our own."

"And the Yankee's with his," added So-
mers. " Why then reproach him ?"

1850.]

Everstone.

273

" Because," said the old lady, " his way
of life is not so good as ours."

" Is ours as good as the Indian's."

" Yes."

" Why .?"

" Simply for this reason," answered Mrs.
AstiviUe, " if all the world lived like the
Indians, we should starve."

" Let us then judge the Northerner by
the same standard. He cuts down the
park and ploughs up the lawn, and thus
raises a greater amount of food than was
raised by his predecessor. Every addition-
al bushel of grain which is produced, in-
creases the general supply in the world, does
it not .>"

" I suppose so."

" And further, there are many human
beings in the world, who suffer annually
for want of adequate sustenance. "

" It is a sad truth," said Mrs Astiville.

" Then are not those who increase the
supply of food in any country and, aid-
ed by the distributing power of com-
merce, make food more abundant through-
out the earth, universal benefactors .? The
Northerner does this. Ought we to visit him
with undistinguishing blame .^"

Both ladies were silent.

Somers continued, " If the Northerner,
besides raising larger crops, endeavors also
to preserve them as far as possible from sub-
sequent loss and injury, do you believe him
unjustifiable } Perhaps he finds on the estate
he has purchased, a building larger than is
required by the domestic wants of his family ;
may he not appropriate it to other purposes }
If you are disinclined to make this admis-
sion, you must at least, I think, allow that
his conduct is not inconsistent with good
taste."

" Good taste V echoed Mr. Astiville.

" Yes, with taste, as you have defined
it."

" I rather suspect," said Sidney to her
elderly companion, " that we committed a
mistake at the outset, and gave the defini-
tion, not of taste, but of utility. Taste is a
very different thing — a sentiment — an in-
stinct— at all events, something too spirit-
ual and intangible to be cramped within the
bounds of verbal expression. The Northern
people, I dare say, act very properly and
usefully, yet — "

" What's all this going on here .^" ex-
claimed Mr. Astiville, " Look to it, Ever-

lyn, I fear this gentleman is making a trait-
or of your daughter. My wife too, I see,
is reduced to silence. How .? — the Yan-
kees are acting properly } Fie, Miss
Sidney, you are worse than the jury.
They hung, and for doing that deserve to
be hanged ; but you, it seems, go the full
length, and decide for the adversary. I
do not wonder at Mr. Somers, he is paid
for defending the Yankees, and is doubtless
bound to laud them on every occasion.
Gilt spectacles are excellent things to im-
prove the vision. Many admirable traits
in the Northern character which escape our
notice, must be quite perceptible to him."

This banter, by whomsoever uttered,
could not have been very agreeable to the
attorney, and coming from Astiville, a man
whom he almost loathed, it was exceeding-
ly offensive. He answered with quickness,
" If prepossessions could lead me to disre-
gard duty, no one would long more eagerly
for the defeat of the three New Yorkers.
The interest I feel in Mr. Everlyn's suc-
cess is a stronger retainer than the largest
pecuniary fee ever paid to barrister ; yet,
if my client, be he the veriest wretch that
walks God's earth, have right on his side
in the particular case in question, I will not
desert him, cost me what it may !"

" We are to understand, then," said Mr.
Astiville, " that a legal gentleman's con-
science charges him to be as zealous against
his friends as for them."

" As for my part," replied Somers, " I
endeavor to act without regarding persons,
but human nature is weak ; I doubt not I
should proceed with more zeal and energy
if Mr. Everlyn were not one of the parties
against whom I am placed in opposition."

AstiviUe, noticing that the lawyer was
careful to avoid all terms which might im-
ply any reluctance to act against him as
well as Everlyn, conceived he had a right
to be angry.

" You would be very well satisfied, then,
Mr. Somers, to support these scurvy Yan-
kees against me alone .^"

" If the thing were possible," answered
Somers, " I could wish that a suit should
have no losing party."

" Yet you make a distinction in my
friend's favor, why not in mine V

This was said by Astiville for the pur-
pose of compelling the other either to a
rudeness or to a polite fib. Somers, in such

274

Everstone.

[March,

a dilemma, preferred the rudeness. Yet, to
his credit be it mentioned, that he did his
best to disguise the uncivil sincerity.

" I profess," he said, " to entertain a spe-
cial friendship for Mr. Everlyn,aud it will
not do for me to declare in his very pres-
ence, that I am ready to bestow an equal
share of esteem on any other person."

" Oh, I think, sir," replied AstiviUe,
" that you are quite too cautious ; my
friend's conviction of the depth and full-
ness of your regard, cannot, I know, be
shaken by a harmless little compliment
paid to another, who, possibly, may not be
altogether undeserving of courtesy. If he
were capable of doubting your assurances of
devoted friendship, he could not resist the
signal proof which is afforded in your labo-
rious exertions to strip him of land and
home. Never was attachment more re-
markable. You know that he is a man of
exquisite taste, and wish to gratify him by
the spectacle of the embellishments which
Messrs. Schrowder and Newlove will add
to his now delightful home. Too refined
to dream of investing him with gross ma-
terial advantages, you seek to supply the
wants of his inner nature ; to satisfy those
deep-seated sentiments, which, according
as they are indulged or shocked, give hap-
piness or misery. I commend the excellent
tact which you display, sir."

The blood rushed to Somers' cheek, but
restraining his passion, he answered in de-
liberate and measured tones, " If I have
fallen under Mr. Everlyn's displeasure for
obeying the imperative call of honor and
duty, it is my misfortune, and affects me
with deep grief. Yet, I do not acknowl-
edge myself accountable for my conduct
to any man whatsoever — not even to him —
and least of all to an individual who — "

As he paused to select his terms, Ever-
lyn hastened to interpose — " Believe me,
Somers, I impute to you no blame — not the
smallest degree. I may say, without im-
propriety, I hope, that I had rather you
were for me than opposed to me, but it
would be unwarrantable, indeed, to enter-
tain any feeling beyond this. Upon you,
I am well aware, I cannot have the shadow
of a claim. So much being said to remove
all doubt or misapprehension, I trust the
harmony of the evening will not be disturb-
ed by the further discussion of a subject so
likely to provoke unpleasant feeling."

Somers bowed in silence.

Everlyn added, " If these New-York
gentlemen are successful, I must, of course,
submit. I shall try to submit without a
murmur, — provided the result be brought
about fairly, and honorably, and justly."

"Allow, me also, an observation," said
Astiville, "for, whatever Mr. Somers may
say, I am more deeply interested in this mat-
ter than even you are. Your estate^ indeed,
may be threatened, but your veracity and
faith, as a gentleman, are not impugned.
Like you, I would find no fault with the
success of our adversaries, if it could pos-
sibly be effected without fraud. With re-
gard to this suit, I am situated differently
from all others. In my mind there can be
no room for doubt, nor nice balancings of
evidence. I know the grounds and extent
of my title. A jury may be bewildered by
an artful combination of circumstances, —
and no one is more laborious in research,
more adroit in exhibition, than Mr.
Somers : — they may be impelled to a ver-
dict by skillful appeals to their passions,
their prejudices, their narrow conceits — and
Mr. Somers is an able rhetorician. If the
jury decide erroneously, the community at
large may also be deceived — yet it is im-
possible that / can be. There are two
persons, who, I presume, have a better ac-
quaintance with the merits of this case
than is possessed by any body besides. I
am one."

" And who is the other V said Somers,
fixing his eye upon him.

Astiville answered, without apparent
emotion : " Are you ready to subpoena the
person, as a witness, when I reveal
his name } Promise me that, and I will
tell you — no, I will tell you without a pro-
mise. The other person is yourself."

Somers compressed his lips tightly, and
frowned. Then he spoke with an open and
ingenuous look : " Whether summoned or
not, I am willing to bear testimony. To
the best of my knowledge and belief, the
Compton title extends to the line which
is claimed for it. On my honor, I affirm
that if I were not satisfied of this, I
would abandon the cause I have under-
taken— abandon it immediately, and glad-

" Now, let me be heard," said Astiville,
" but first give me your admission of my
competency. Do you not believe that I

1850.]

Everstone.

275

am aware, m my inmost breast, of the true
situation of the Corner ?"

" I have reason to think it probable that
you are," answered Somers, cautiously.

" Then, sir, I declare to you that I am
not acquainted with any Corner on the
Upper Branch of the Hardwater. You
gentlemen of the Bar are trained to habits
of distrust, yet you cannot suspect me, I
think, of the incredible baseness of proffer-
ing a voluntary and useless falsehood.
My assurance is given solemnly, and if
you establish a corner, where you have
been seeking it, you will act in direct con-
tradiction to testimony, which, however
inadmissible in a Court of Justice, cannot
be denied a hearing, and an influence in
the forum of Conscience."

Somers was in truth surprised, if not
staggered, by this declaration. It could
not overthrow his previous strong and ma-
turely formed opinion ; but it gave him
perplexity, and he determined to probe the
matter a little deeper. Too upright,
however, to attempt to entrap an individ-
ual into a hurtful confession, he gave fair
warning of his purpose, addressing himself
as well to Everlyn, as to the other :

" Please to take notice, that it is not I
who introduce this subject. If there is
any unwillingness to continue to converse
upon it, I am content to dismiss it once :
if otherwise, I should like to put a simple
question to Mr. Astiville. I wish to gain
no advantage from the freedom of social
intercourse : — to endeavor to do so would
be not only indelicate in the highest de-
gree, but unjust."

" What is it you desire to ask me P' said
Astiville.

" I will put the query, since you demand
it," replied Somers, " but remember that I
am far from advising you to answer. In-
deed, I think you would act most properly
to refuse an answer."

" Mr. Somers, do tell us what it is you
want to know, without further hesitation
or excuses ! If I possess the information,
I will give it. Do not be afraid to talk
with me. I am no child, be assured, to be
inveigled into a snare, even if you should
choose to lay one."

" And what is better," remarked Ever-
lyn, " we pursue an open and honest
course, and have no secrets which we fear
to disclose."

Thus invited, the lawyer proceeded.
" You have affirmed, Mr. Astiville, that
you know of no Corner on the Upper
Branch — I would inquire whether you know
of any on the Lower Branch .^"

" I am saved the trouble of responding
to that interrogatory, sir, for it has already
been answered in Court."

" The question asked in Court," said
Somers, " was, where is the headstone ? —
and to that, I imagine, no satisfactory reply
has yet been given."

Astiville showed signs of anger. " This
is what I complain of in you, Sir. Somers.
You rake up an old fable, unsupported by
a shadow of real evidence, and by means
of it, operate upon a jury. This is an ar-
tifice which would do credit to a petti-
fogger, but can hardly add to your reputa-
tation."

" I am not conscious of having practised
any artifice," said Somers, coldly.

" And no tampering with witnesses,
neither, I presume .'" answered Mr. Asti-
ville.

" No, sir," added the lawyer in the same
tone. " For that was impossible, when the
names of witnesses, and the facts they were
to prove, were alike made a mystery. I
leave it to Candor to decide which party is
most liable to the charge of trickery, in re-
lation to the suppositious stone attempted
to be forced upon jury and counsel, under
the cover of surprise .''"

" It seems, then, Mr. Somers, that you
defend your introduction of deceit into the
case, solely on the ground of a prior effort
to mislead, made by us. You suspected
us of a device, useless and unnecessary,
perhaps, but which yet cannotbe pronounced
very culpable, and hence inferred a right to
persuade the jury to decide the matter by a
test, which, if you had been in the panel,
you would yourself have refused to acknowl-
edge. This is carrying the sex talionis to
an extreme."

" I made no assertion," replied Somers,
" which I did not myself believe."

" Everlyn here exclaimed, " What ! Is
it your opinion that there is really a grave
at the Corner .'"

" Assuredly it is."

" And may I ask the grounds of that
opinion .'' For none, I think, were ad-

vanced in Court,
there .?"

How came the grave

276

Everstone.

[March,

" For satisfaction, on this point," said
Somers, " I must refer you to Mr. Asti-
ville, and Mr. Astiville's conscience."

Astiville, at this, suddenly rose from his
chair, saying, " This is not the first time
that offensive insinuations have been thrown
out by you. In the Court-room, I remem-
bor, you backed some of your most objec-
tionable remarks by equivocal glances to-
wards the place where I was sitting. Come,
sir, deal your blows in the open light, so
that I may know what to expect, and how
to guard myself."

" I offer no attack upon you, sir, whether
in darkness, or in light."

" Somers !" said Astiville, " This eva-
sion can pass no longer. I demand, and
will have, more explicitness. Do you pre-
sume to alledge any connection between me
and the supposed concealment of the Cor-
ner-stone .^"

" Since you inquire with so much ve-
hemence," replied the lawyer, " I will
acknowledge, I suppose such a connection
exists."

" This is beyond endurance !" cried the
other, now in a towering passion. " To cast
so black an accusation upon me, before my
very face ! and this, too, in the teeth of
my positive and direct assurance, that if
there is a Corner on the Upper Branch, I
know not where it is ! In the progress of
impertinence and folly, it is next to be as-
serted, perhaps, that I am responsible for
the existence of the grave .?"

Somers quietly answered : " As you are
so deeply interested, sir, in the stone, in
its capacity of corner-mark, I will not deny
that you may be concerned in it as head-
stone also."

Somers expected to see Astiville become
furious at this, but that gentleman only
curled his lip, and said, —

" Heaven preserve the man's wits !"

It is wonderful to see how a person, who
can restrain himself so long as an adversary
is boiling over, feels his passion foam out
the moment the cauldron of the other's
wrath commences to subside. Some phi-
losopher— possibly, Abraham Tucker — ex-
plains the phenomenon in this wise, — Men,
it is said, are benevolent warming-pans —
their business is to keep each other sup-
plied with the "essential caloric :" when
one, through excess of liberality, bestows
more than it can spare of its stock of coals

upon its fellow, the grateful recipient in-
stinctively repays the loan, and with usury.
Others refer to the laws of electricity. But
whatever hypothesis we adopt, it is certain
that the barrister lost his self-possession at the
precise time he most needed it. He answer-
ed : — " Spare my health, whether of body,
or mind, sir, the infliction of your good
wishes. There are beings whose curses are
less noxious than their blessings !"

Still Mr. Astiville's sneering composure
continued unbroken.

Somers added, with more vehemence
of manner : " Though your own conscience
be a slight encumbrance, are you not some-
what troubled at the thought of another ^
who cannot regard the Hardwater Corner-
stone with the same apathy .'"

Now Astiville started like one stung.

Somers eagerly followed up the stroke.
" Does not that less guilty tool endure the
penalty of remorse, which should be yours .''
— Beware, beware, villainy will out; the
Corner will be discovered ; the grave will
be opened ; and the atrocity that gave it
its occupant will be known. Tremble, for
you have good cause. Since the day when
the earth saw the first deed of slaughter
committed, it has never ceased to de-
nounce crime in a voice which may not be
stifled !"

Astiville's countenance wore a peculiar
expression, which seemed a compound of
uneasy expectation, of anger, and of dis-
dain, but he uttered no word.

The other went on. " Well may you
have recourse to such strenuous exertions, in
order to gain your cause. Delude Mr. Ever-
lyn, if you can, into the belief that care for the
security of his purchase, or the establish-
ment of your own claims to the remainder
of the tract, prompts these efforts to fix the
line on the Lower Branch — / knoiv you
have a deeper stake at hazard. Lightly
might you abandon all else, if you could
but hide for ever that grave, and the deed
that filled it!"

A strange smile flitted across Astiville's
features, and he had opened his lips to
speak, when his wife rose up, and walked
across the floor, till she stood between him
and Somers. Addressing the latter, the old
lady, in a manner of much dignity said : —
" Sir, I cannot tell whether you are extra-
ordinarily ignorant, or extraordinarily
wicked. I imderstand this whole matter

1850.]

Everstone.

Til

of the grave, as well as Mr. Astiville. The
subject is one which cannot be dwelt upon
without pain by him, or any member of
his family, and a most ungentlemanly ad-
vantage have you taken of that shrinking
of nature. Ungentlemanly ? — I ought to
say brutal. You are a young man, and
his advanced years alone should have been
sufficient to protect him. The position,
too, that he occupies in society, one would
have thoujrht, might have lifted him out of
the reach of imputations which the lowest
pauper could not have suffered, without
feeling himself aggrieved beyond atone-
ment. Has the world come to this, that
a suspicion, hastily assumed, and, in real-
ity, without the faintest color of truth ;
yet a suspicion involving the darkest stain
that human being can bear, may be reck-
lessly cast upon one, whose reputation has
hitherto appeared spotless in the eyes of
the whole community ; upon a gentleman,
the inheritor of an estate sufficiently ample
to remove him from all temptation to prac-
tice the vulgar arts of acquisition, and, more
than all, the head of an honorable and an-
cient family } Blush for shame, sir, and
at least have the decency hereafter to for-
bear whispering a slander so outrageous."

Mrs. Astiville, when she had finished this
address, tm-ned away with the same erect,
grave, and impressive carriage which had
marked her throughout, and resumed her
seat.

Before Somers had determined what he
ought to say, Mr. Astiville spoke, " Yes,
sir, I could give a plain recital that would
cause your cheek to tingle by the reflect-
ions which it must excite. You would
perceive how utterly groundless is the
calumny to which your spite has given
vent. That I do not think proper to make
the explanation, you may attribute either
to compassion or to the desire that your
punishment may prove the more keen from
delay. I will now content myself with ad-
vising Mr. Everlyn to have as little inter-
course as possible with one whose reckless-
ness and indelicacy are aggravated by an
unscrupulous cunning, that renders quali-
ties, otherwise contemptible, dangerous."

" And I," retorted Somers, justly in-
censed, " most earnestly advise Mr. Ever-
lyn to be on his guard against one who has
already over-reached and defrauded him,
and who now hopes to lead him into mea-

sures, which, if successful, must be followed
by bitter regrets. Mr. Everlyn, I beseech
you to listen to me patiently. I have ex-
amined this question of title as thoroughly
as my faculties give me power. This in-
vestigation convinces me that the claim of
Newlove and his companions cannot be
overthrown. Your confidence has been
grossly abused, and, I think, illegally too.
I undertake to say, that there is at least a
probability that Mr. Astiville can be com-
pelled to make restitution of the money
which you have paid him. I will venture
to affirm, also, though without consultation
with my three clients, that they will be
content to convey this tract to you for the
bare sum which it has cost them."

"This caps the climax of audacity!"
exclamied Astinlle.

But the lawyer cut short his observations
at the outset, with a look and tone which
compelled him to silence. " I wish to hear
Mr. Everlyn'' s answer, sir, not yours."
Then turning to the other gentleman, he
added, " consider well, I beg you, all that
I have declared and suggested. I speak
from both heart and head. I think the one
has not deceived me, and I know that the
other breathes only the most sincere de-
sires for your security and welfare. I have
declared how slender is the title by which
this fine old mansion is now held ; and I
have pointed out the way to make your
right as firm and immoveable as the granite
hill upon which it is built. Decide be-
tween Everstone lost and Everstone gained,
between the counsels of a false friend and
those of a true one, between Mr. Astiville
and me."

" I have decided," said Mr. Everlyn,
coldly, "I would not receive this estate nor
tenfold its value upon terms which implied
any distrust of Mr. Astiville. He inform-
ed me most honorably, before I made the
purchase, that a controversy might arise,
merely adding, that it was his clear belief,
that the title he conveyed would prove
good and sufficient. On this I was content
to rely, and, if the foundation should in the
issue fail under me, it will be my fault, not
his. He even insisted, greatly to my re-
luctance, upon making a deduction in the
actual payment, on account of the risk I
assumed, from the amount fixed in the
deed of conveyance."

" That fact it was not worth while to

278

Everstone.

[March,

mention," observed the self-denying feoff-
or, " indeed you promised — "

" I know it, " answered the other, " but
my desire to see you vindicated would not
allow me to remain silent."

" It was quite prudent in Mr. Astiville,"
said Soraers, " to desire the concealment
of that incident of the sale, as it might tend
to support an action for the recovery of
consideration given in an illegal contract."

Everlyn, with a look expressive of hearty
scorn for the insinuation, resumed the in-
terrupted thread of his remarks.

" Yes, Mr. Somers, I place the most
undoubting confidence in Mr. Astiville, and
I cannot be tempted to separate my inter-
ests from his. Already, sir, I have dis-
claimed any pretensions to your services or
special regard, but it does seem to me, that
I might have been spared witnessing, in
my own house, so violent an assault upon
the reputation of that valued friend, as has
been made this evening. An affront to him,
especially when offered whilst he is under
the shelter of this roof, I cannot but regard
as an affront to myself. I thank you, how-
ever, for the kind sentiments you have ex-
pressed towards me personally, and only
request, that by accompanying them with
such unmerited and, I must add, inexcus-
able reflections upon Mr. Astiville, you re-
duce me to the necessity of appearing less
grateful than I desire to be thought."

Somers' only reply was a measured in-
clination of the head. After a brief inter-
val he observed, " If it be convenient, Mr.
Everlyn, I should like to retire."

Everlyn immediately rang the beU for a
servant, who soon appeared at the door.

Then Somers, rising, walked deliberate-
ly to the side of the room, where Mrs. As-
tiville was sitting. He said to her : —

" Madam, I entreat you to pardon the
degree of rudeness into which I have been
this evening betrayed. Possibly I ought
not to have made the offensive observations
at all ; certainly it was my duty not to
have suffered them to escape my lips in
your presence. The ears of a wife ought
never to be wounded by reproaches against
her husband. Perhaps you will deem it
some extenuation of my fault, that 1 did
not provoke the discussion which led to it.
This apology, madam, I feel to be a debt
not only to you, but to my own self-res-
pect. Madam, I wish you good night."

Next he took leave of Sidney, afterwards
of Mr. Everlyn, and just before turning to
leave the room, bowed distantly to Mr.
Astiville.

In the morning, Somers rose early. De-
scending from his chamber as soon as he
heard the servants stu-ring below, he walk-
ed out to the stable. He placed a piece of
silver in the hand of the black man whom
he found there, and requested him to sad-
dle his horse, as he wished to ride immedi-
ately. The rain had all passed, and the fog
which the morning's heat had drawn from
the moist earth, shrank away as the sun
gained strength, and settled in low, dense
masses along the rivulets which threaded
the narrow seams between the hills.

Somei's returned to the house. The
first member of the family whom he met
was Sidney. She walked with him to the
porch, and on the way listened, in silence,
as he mentioned that he would not be able
to remain more than a few moments long-
er. After the incidents of the preceding
evening, she felt that she could not urge
him to change this purpose. Through the
latticed window at the end of the porch,
Somers saw the ostler just issuing from the
stable with his horse. Then, by a strong
effort, overcoming his repugnance to speak
of an unpleasant subject, he availed him-
self of the brief opportunity afforded him, to
inquire of the young lady whether he had
incurred her disapprobation, as well as her
father's.

" You do not answer," he added.
" Must I infer that you can never pardon
me for becoming the advocate of the oppo-
nents of your father's title } You cannot
imagine what pain my position of apparent
hostility gives me. If you could but wit-
ness the struggle which is every hour going
on in my breast, — if you could but see how
my will, in stubborn reluctance to become
the instrument of harm to the inhabitants
of Everstone, makes strenuous though un-
availing battle with an imperious sense of
duty, — if all this were but known to you,
and you could perceive how the outside
calm of professional routine covers keen
heart-burnings and i-egrets, you would not
throw upon me the additional burden of
your displeasure."

" I could wish it otherwise," was her re-
ply, " but I do not blame you for this "

" You do, then, blame me for some-

1850.]

Everstone.

279

thing in my conduct; — is it because, in a
moment of great provocation, I have spoken
harshly to Mr. Astiville ? Do you join
with him against me ?"

" My father's opinions, Mr. Somers,
must be my opinions ; his friends, my
friends. Yet the door is not closed, only
acknowledge, — what, I know, you have the
magnanimity enough to do, — the injustice
of your hasty reflections upon Mr. Asti-
ville, and it will be easy to effect a gene-
ral good understanding."

" Never !" — replied the lawyer, *' all
that it was possible for me to say, in the
way of apology, was said last night. I can
strive earnestly, and, throughout the early
part of that conversation, did strive ear-
nestly, to conceal my sentiments of dislike ;
but I will not be guilty of the meanness of
retracting a real opinion, once uttered, nor
of the hypocrisy of pretending a friendship
which I do not feel. Miss Everlyn —
Sidney, trust me, the day will come when
both you and your father will repent of this
confidence in Astiville. I know that man
sufficiently well, to be satisfied that he is
capable of committing any villainy."

" Indeed, sir," said Sidney, " I must
not listen to languao;e such as this."

Before the lover had time to reply, Mr.
Everlyn appeared upon the porch. Somers
advanced towards him immediately, signi-
fied his purpose of riding, and, resisting the
polite solicitation to remain to breakfast,
took leave of both father and daughter.

The lawyer, as we have seen, en-
tered Everstone uneasy and apprehensive ;
he withdrew in thorough vexation. Then,
it was over-scrupulousness that inflicted
pain ; now, he had legitimate cause for
self-reproach. Connecting the vague ru-
mors he had heard, with the wild declara-
tions, and still wilder manner of the man
Cain, and with Astiville's own occasional
demeanor, he had been led to believe in the
perpetration of some foul deed near the
Corner. Many incidents of the preceding
evening, especially Mrs. Astiville's solemn
rebuke, went to shake this opinion.

Whether it were true or not that John
Astiville was implicated in any dark and
criminal transaction, Somers might well
feel dissatisfied. If his suspicions were
ill-founded, he stood in the mortifying posi-
tion of an abashed and silenced accuser.

If Astiville were really guilty, he was now
put on his guard.

As Somers rode along — his mind leaping
alternately from one to the other horn of
this agreeable dilemna — he espied before
him an angular negro figure, which seemed
to make itself recognized as one that was
not then beheld for the first time. A little
nearer approach, and Naomi was plainly
manifest. She was stopping by the road-
side to pluck a few scattered twigs of
sumach, the gleanings of a harvest reaped
by others.

The low-spirited lawyer was enlivened,
for he saw a possibility of extracting from
her a resolution of his perplexity, xifter
the age-stricken, but agile dame had been
properly saluted, he began his assault.

" Aunt Naomi, you must really give me
more satisfaction than you did before.
Who is buried in that grave .? Is any
human being at all buried there } — Per-
haps you have been trifling with me, and
it is only the grave of »a dog, or something
of that sort."

" He was treated like a dog," said
Naomi, bitterly. '' But he was a man for
all that.

" What was his name V

The negress shook her head, and refused
to answer.

" He met a violent death, it seems .?"

" You may say that, marster, without
fear of contradiction."

"Who killed him.?"

" I won't talk no more about it," said
Naomi. " I don't suppose you want to
bring me into trouble, sir, "

Somers interrupted her, with earnest pro-
testations that she might rely, confidently,
on his honor and discretion,

" I believe you, marster, as if you were
talkin' in the pulpit. But bein' that you
are sot on larniu' everything, just look for
Josh Evans."

" You have mentioned this name before,
but the man's not to be found."

'' It's a great pity, then, for I'm sure
you'd put great store by Josh, if you could
only lay hands on him, and persuade him to
open his mouth lively. A big heap it is
that Josh knows — that's certain."

" He is acquainted with everything, is
he .?"

" He should be," replied the woman,
" for, wasn't he ten years overseer at

280

Everstone.

[March,

Greywood. Look here, marster Somers —
don't tell anybody I put you up to this : —
but if you are so keen to get sight of that
stone, may be Josh Evans can show it to
you. For my part, I never seed it, and
don't want to."

" Then, is there no hope, but in discov-
ering this man V

" There aint no other that I sees, sir ,
all your 'pendence must be on Josh. These
children about here don't know nothin'.
They are willin' enough to talk — Heaven
bless 'em — but you might as well stick out
your ear to the wind, and espect to ketch
wiseness "

" I will be on the look out for this
Evans."

"You'll do right, marster — but, stop
— there's another thing."

Naomi, having first cast her eyes
around her uneasily, continued — " I reckon
you had better find Josh as quick as you
can. He's right old, and though he's
tough as leather, might die off before you'd
think. And then — and then — I judge
he'E be apt to talk more free if John As-

tiville don't get a chance to set him his

lesson."

" I comprehend," said Somers. " And,
by the way, aunty, could not you manage
in a quiet manner, to find out from some-
body the precise place where he is now stay-
ing t — Could not you remember the name,
and tell me so that I may commence my
search in the right quarter ?"

She promised, and they thereupon sepa-
rated. The moment after, however, Naomi
called him back : —

" Hark'ye, mai-ster Somers, don't, for
gi-acious sake let on about my having sont
you. It's likely I'm a fool as it is, to poke
my old fingers nigh the fire. Besides, its
mighty oncorrect, in a gineral way, to take
sides agin a family I once belonged to : —
but I don't care the turning of a Jolmny-
cake for them Astiviiles. They always
was a hateful gineration, from the fust ! — I
don't want 'em to find out, tho\igh, what
I've been a-doin'. I'm old, and 'fiicted,
and did hope to live the rest of my days ia
peace and quietness. But there's somebody
. comin' — ride on, sii\"

CHAPTER VL

A PRETTY girl was tripping up the steps
that led to Mr. Munny's dry-good store,
when she chanced to drop a small pack-
age. It contained no golden ear-rings, nor
priceless gems — nothing, in truth, of higher
value than a pair of kid slippers. Two or three
men, who were lounging at the door of the
neighboring bar-room, observing the fall of
the bundle, sprang forth to recover and res-
tore it. Another person, a young man, with
a round, ruddy countenance, also noticed the
accident, and, uttering an indescribable
whoop, leaped in between the two foremost
competitors, and just as they were stooping
to grasp the treasure, thrust them both
aside. Seizing the bundle himself, he
placed it in the hands of the young lady.

As he returned, one of those who had
been so unceremoniously supplanted, came
up to him fiercely, and said, '• Look here,

stranger ! suppose we take tiat tussle orer
again .'"

" By no means — I am very well satisfied
as it is," answered the other, with deliber-
ate Northern intonation.

" The dickens you are } But I am not.
Come, boy? there's bo backing out from the
scrape bow!"

'' I've got a cousin to hum," said the
defendant, " who, I know, could thrash
you, like all Boston. It is Sam Striker I
mean, — the fellow that can hold a two-
year old bull by the horns."

" Pshaw ! what do I care for that .?" ex-
claimed the native, " Your cousin is not
2/oM, I reckon, so off with your coat, and
take it !"

The individual thus urged felt a strong
inclination to cry to Mr. Munny to inter-
pose ; but, castbg his eye around, he per-

1850.]

Everstone.

281

ceived the mistress of the bundle standing
on the threshold of the shop-door, in a posi-
tion to observe all that was transacting
without. The consciousness that beauty is
looking on, is excellent cordial for a faint-
ing heart. So the young man, without
further hesitation, knocked down his assail-
ant. Several more at once started to ad-
vance, but others restrained them, with the
shout, " Fair play ! one at a time !"

As the unsuccessful combatant rose, his
antagonist said, in a sympathizing manner,
— " I hope you are not hurt. It was all
done in good nature. So, shake hands, and
I'll treat the company.

The man was surly at first, but could
not resist that frank offer to treat. The
Northerner, for his part, escaped from the
bar-room as quickly as possible, very judi-
ciously considering that a second scuffle
might have a worse termination. When
ne was again in the open air, his joyful
glance recognized, descending from the
steps of the store, that fairest of maidens,
the queen, whose smiles had both provoked
and rewarded the recent tourney. By her
side was a person who may have been her
father, though, in the New-Yorker's esti-
mation, he might better have passed for a
handful of wilted weeds, so wrinkled and
dried-up a creature was he.

But who was the New-Yorker himself }
Absalom Handsucker by name : — by office,
manager to Mr. Newlove. On the present
occasion, remembering some unperformed
duty, he forced himself to withdraw from
the scene, though his ample bosom was
heaving, and every vein tingled with a new-
born passion.

" Let us now spare a word to his em-
ployer, and his employer's household.
Sylvester Newlove had been thirty years a
merchant. During that period he had
failed six times. Many were puzzled to
discern the reason of this want of success,
for no one, who knew him, could suspect
that he, in any case, resorted to the fash-
ionable device of voluntary and fraudulent
bankruptcy. He was an excellent ac-
countant, an economist, methodical, not
prone to indulge in daring ventures, and,
withal, diligent and devoted to his busi-
ness. Yet there must have been some im-
portant quality lacking.

Emma, his only child, on coming into
possession of a considerable fortune, be-

queathed to her by a maternal relative,
discharged her father's debts, and, when
afterwards he manifested a desire to change
his occupation, advanced funds for the
purchase of the tract of land which had met
his fancy. Newlove engaged in agricul-
ture with all the ardor of enthusiasm. Yet
a rural domain, wherever .situated, is usu-
ally found more than amply stocked with
tliorns. The first trouble was to procure
laborers. Some white men, hired in the
vicinity, left very soon, in high dudgeon at
certain precepts (relating principally to the
management of oxen) which the overseer
undertook to enjoin. As the last one turn-
ed his back — a slim, narrow-shouldered
youth, with a strong propensity to tobacco,
and an equally strong aversion to muscular
effort ; — Absalom Handsucker is said to
have cried out in a pitiful voice, —

" You off, too ! — But whaVs to become
of the ploughing .?"

" Can't say," was the reply. " All I
care to know at present is, that there are
more hoe-cakes baked in the county than
come out of Newlove's meal-tub."

The overseer turned the oxen into the
pasture, and went himself to the house to
report progress. Newlove was distressed :
then his countenance brightened, and he
inquired whether it was not possible to pro-
cure a steam-plough, and so dispense alto-
gether with animal labor. But the over-
seer's scornful negative crushed this pro-
ject at once. After divers consultations,
it was concluded to resort to black help.
It not being the usual season for hiring ne-
groes, extensive search procured one man,
and one only, yet Absalom, now able to
style himself overseer, de facto, as well as
dcjure^ was no less proud of a single sub-
ject, than the farmer of Juan Fernandez.
That Priam, the new hand, was quite ad-
vanced in years, could be no great annoy-
ance to Absalom, since the foreman would
never be expected to work harder than the
subordinate. Comfort, therefore, and a
due regard for the dignity of station, coin-
cided very happily.

Priam, whose age took less from his
strength and endurance, than it added to
his shrewdness, was perfectly content with
the basis on which matters were arranged,
and, possibly, it was a sense of gratitude
that prompted him to be prodigal of advice,
in proportion that he was spared from less

282

Everstone.

[March,

easy duty. If a multitude of counsellors
ensures success in husbandry, that farm
was a model. In truth, little doubt can be
entertained that if Aristotle or Locke had
witnessed its internal economy, they would
have derived valuable hints for the organi-
zation of the government of a State. Mr.
Newlove, of course, suggested his ideas in
the first place ; the manager came next, to
ratify, or reject ; and after the measure had
passed this ordeal, it had further to endure
the jealous censorship of old Priam. This
constitution had, what will appear to nn-
philosophic minds, a deficiency of active
vigor ; — still some fallow-land was, that
autumn, prepared for wheat. The morn-
ing came for putting in the seed. Priam
was in readiness with his harrow and team ;
the bags of grain were disposed at proper
intervals, and young Absalom, with his
apron around his neck, stalked majestically
forth.

Just as the seedsman had made his pre-
liminary cast, Mr. Newlove bustled into
the field. He brought in his hand a small
linen bag. Absalom, as he received and
opened it, said, with surprise : " What's
this, sir ? — some kind of grass seed .?"

Newlove explained, that having visited
the harvest-field of a neighbor that sum-
mer, where the wheat-straw was short and
difiicult to bind, he had noticed that the
rakers occasionally used mullein-stalks for
bands. Generalizing from this fact, he
had concluded that it would be proper not
to depend upon chance for a supply of a
material capable of being put to such an
important use.

Absalom and Priam were alike astound-
ed. The overseer, as soon as he recovered
speech, asserted that never before, " in his
born days," (a Pythagorean expression,)
had he heard of a resort to so wild an expe-
dient.

" If the experiment," pleaded Newlove,
" has never been tried, we ought not,
therefore, to condemn it. The great charm
of a country life is that it emancipates one
from the iron rule of custom. What vast
consequences may result from this humble
experiment ! How cheap the fabric which
we would convert to use ! Becoming truly
productive laborers, we will create out of
nothing, as it were, a substantial addition
to the wealth of the country. Think, Mr.
Handsucker, how glorious it will be to have

our names handed down to remote posterity
as the originators of a new practice in
Agriculture. To share the fame of a Col-
umella, a TuU, and a Coke. What a re-
ward, this, for one short step in the advance
of our age !"

" Weil, I must say," returned Absalom,
" that if this field's going to bring such
trifling wheat that we must have mulleins
to tie the sheaves with, we may as well
save the seed, while we have it, in bags.
What precious nice fun it will be, to cra-
dle mullein-stalks all day !"

The venerable negro had stood silent,
leaning on the stafi" of his whip. Newlove,
loath toabandonhis scheme, institvited an ap-
peal from the white critic to the sable one.

" Do you think, Priam, that these mv\-
leins will really interfere with the cradling,
next harvest .^"

" No, marster ; — they won't."

" How .'" exclaimed Absalom, " not in-*
terfere .? — How do you make that out .'"'

Sylvester Newlove, with a countenance
expressing the most pleasurable anticipa-
tion, also awaited the old man's reply.

" It isn't the natur' of mulleins," said
Priam, " to shoot up to stalk the first sum-
mer— especially where the land ain't rich.
So, if this seed is sown, we'll have to wait
patiently till year arter next — then^ if the
season's good, I 'spose a crap may be
looked for, such as aint often seen."

The negro, too decorous to laugh, vented
his mirth in a subdued chuckle. There
was no room for more discussion. New-
love took up his bag of raullien seed in a
disconsolate manner, and was about going
to the house, when he saw a horseman ap-
proaching. The stranger was soon within
speaking distance.

" How do you do, sir .?" he said to New-
love, " Just at seeding I perceive. Excel-
lent time ! — and grounds in fine order. You
sow by stakes it seems— for my part, I pre-
fer laying off" the ground in beds. Perhaps,
too, it would be advisable to substitute the
basket for the apron. Still, these are small
matters ; you go on the right general system,
I dare say. It gives me great pleasure, in-
deed, to find gentlemen settHng here who
are disposed to lay out capital on the land.
It is astonishing how blind many of our
old inhabitants are. You mean to sow
clover, doubtless, and plaster of Paris."

" Yes, sir," answered Newlove, invol-

1850.]

Everstone.

283

untarily glancing at the bag of mullein-seed,
" I design adopting the latest improve-
ments in agriculture. I am convinced that
to insure success, science and practice must
go hand in hand."

'* A fine — a noble observation — " re-
joined the gentleman on horseback. " Al-
low me to shake hands with you, sir. It is
Mr. Newlove, I believe, whom I address.
My own name is Safety — Alonao Safety, of
this county."

" Accompany me to the dwelling, Mr.
Safety."

" 1 thank you — not this morning. No-
thing gives me so much gratification as to
see an enlightened agriculturist in the scene
of his active operations. Many here are
rather jealous of you Northern gentlemen,
but as for me, I avow myself a hearty sym-
pathizer."

No stenographer could have reported
Mr. Safety's rapid utterance. He explain-
ed in the course of fifteen minutes full half-
a-dozen different routines of cropping, and
gave a discriminating estimate of each. At
the close, looking towards Absalom, he ob-
served " Is that hearty-looking young man
your son^ Mr. Newlove .?"

"No, sir; — but my manager. Let me
make you acquainted with him. Mr. Ab-
salom riandsucker, Mr. Safety."

" How are you, Mr. Handsucker } But
why do I ask, when I see you with your
harness on, engaged in the glorious work }
Oh, 'tis delightful to behold youth active, in-
dustrious, indefatigable ; not ashamed of that
physical exertion that does honor to man !"

Mr. Alonzo Safety took leave, with an
invitation to both proprietor and overseer
to visit him at his house.

" That man," remarked Newlove, " is
a splendid farmer, I'll answer for it !"

" At any rate, he talks as if he knew
how to be," said Absalom.

Priam, however, dropped a hint to the
effect that the farm of the retiring horse-
man was by no means distinguished either
for neatness and good management, or for
the abundance of its products. " Some
people has the gift of talk, and some of do-
ino; ; — and some'''' he added, sotto voce,
" of neither one nor t'other."

Absalom was in ecstacies at the recollec-
tion of the late call. The reason may
be easily given. Alonzo Safety was the
very little, lean old man who was es-

VOL. V. NO. III. NEVF SERIES.

corting the lady of the lost bundle. He
was now invited to visit him, and to visit
her. After a few days of solicitous pre-
paration, he determined to make the first
move and, as he hoped, the decisive one.
He would go in style. A buggy would have
been his choice as a conveyance, but the
neighborhood contained not such a vehicle.
There was no better resource than to go
on horseback. He was indeed neither a
very skillful, nor elegant rider, but he con-
ceived that a pair of spurs would make up
for all deficiencies. Proceeding to the
store some time previous (on business for
Mr. Newlove, of course) he had procured
a brilliant brass-mounted pair whose lono-
rowels seemed capable of communicatino'
mettle to the dullest steed. In compliment
to those whom he proposed visiting, he
thought proper to put on leggings, that
well-known portion of Southern apparel.
He had no cloth, but a couple of yards of
gay check bought as a present for the black
house-maid, would answer the purpose well
enough, and, since the season was dry, the
calico could not receive such injury as to
prevent it from being afterwards applied to
its original destination.

About an hour before sunset, the chores
being disposed of, and Jack, the youngest
of the pair of horses, saddled and bridled,
Absalom started forth. The road went by
Munny's store, and as the cavalier pranced
through the village, his steed manifested a
slight disposition to be restive. Absalom
forgetting spurs and everything else in his
anxiety not to fall in so public a place,,
clapped his heels close to Jack's flanks.
The bound which the horse then made sur-
passed all the marvels on the programme
of a circus or in the Duke of Newcastle's
diary. Every hoof drawn under him, he
shot up into the air like a balloon or a rock-
et. On his descent he crouched till his
belly almost touched the earth ; next, he
whirled around and around with the velo-
city of grimalkin in a fit. Absalom, con-
scious that although clinging to Jack with
every limb, he sat none too securely, dared
not to withdraw his heels from their hold.
jWhat would have been the issue if the two
jhad been left to themselves, it is difficult
|to conjecture. The horse could not run,
jfor the severe bit and the heavy hand on
ithe rein eff'ectually curbed him ; the rider
jcould not well be thrown so long as hislegs

284

Ever St one.

[March,

encompassed the animal like a hoop ; the
spurs themselves, whose rowels stuck fast
between Jack's ribs, contributed to make a
centaur of the tenaciously united couple.

Sam Munny's stout negro blacksmith,
observing a horse which he had supposed
perfectly tractable, cutting such frantic
capers, issued from the forge and seized the
left branch of the bridle.

" That's it, my good chap!" cried Ab-
salom, " that's it ; — hold him tight till I
get down."

The instant his feet touched solid earth,
he stooped, unbuckled the spurs, and hand-
ed them to the blacksmith — "Hang the
things — here, Job, keep them till I can find
somebody else fool enough to wear 'em."

Again he was mounted, and without other
mishap arrived at Mr. Safety's. The
dwelling was a double log-cabin with no very
tidy surroundings, yet there were such in-
dications of comfort as an orchard, a cider-
press, and a spacious wood-pile. He was
introduced to Miss Arabella. Ere he could
persuade his halting tongue to address her
in the impassioned strain which his heart
dictated, the mother entered. Mrs. Safety
was a fat, comely matron, with a double
chin and a lisp, which did not prevent her
from engrossing by far the larger portion
of the conversation. She informed Mr.
Handsucker that she came of an excellent
family indeed, and was a cousin — only four
or five degrees removed — of the Astivilles.
A great many wealthy, and, according to
common estiination, highly eligible suitors,
had made application for her hand, but she
had preferred Mr. Safety to them all, on
account of his distinguished name and birth.
To be sure, he was much older than she,
there being a difference of some twenty
years in their ages, but what was such a
consideration to purity of blood } and the
Safetys, though not a large family, were
known to be one of the most ancient in the
State.

Absalom, as he listened, imderstood the
reason of Mr. Safety's talkativeness when
abroad — his wife allowed him no opportunity
to use his tongue at home. That hardly
treated gentleman was cunning enough to
drag the guest out of doors, and as it was
not yet dusk, to walk about the farm with
him while supper was preparing. Then,
within the house, a dialogue, and an ana-
ysis of character, took place.

" Really a very pretty young man," ob-
served Mrs. Safety, " He looked at you
a good deal, Arabella, and seems quite fas-
cinated. He certainly is not your equal,
but it would be far better to take up with
a Yankee than with a low-born Southerner.
The Yankees, in the matter of birth, are
all alike, so that a girl who means to get a
husband from among them, may as well
take one as another."

*' But you know ma, pa says it is all
nonsense to think so much of family."

" A Safety can afibrd to speak so," re-
turned the mother complacently, " but
there are few others who may presume to
disparage these distinctions."

" Mr. Handsucker is a working sort of
a person, is he not, ma .?"

" Oh, the Yankees all work, child. It
comes as natural to them as talking does to
a Southerner."

" But how odd he looks with those check
handkerchiefs on his legs, instead of wrap-
pers— in this dry weather, too !"

Mrs. Safety was at no loss for an answer.
It was uttered, by the way, in a pretty sharp
key. How do you know that is not the
fashion .'' We are behind the world here,
and I shouldn't be at all surprised if at this
very moment the leaders of the ton in New
York, are riding down Broadway with just
such stylish leggings on as Mr. Handsuck-
er wears."

" Still, he seems to be a person who has

to work for his living — he can't be well off.

" Hush, Arabella, you know nothing

about it. I tell you that all the Yankees

are rich.''''

The walkers returned ; after a plentiful
meal which would have given Absalom un-
qualified satisfaction, if the table had only
contained a somewhat larger proportion of
those sweet arguments on which a Northern
palate is accustomed to luxuriate, several
hours were occupied in pleasant chat.
About ten o'clock Mr. Safety showed symp-
toms of drowsiness. He nodded, and,
finally, notwithstanding his wife's faithful
nudgings, snored outright.

"Come, Alonzo," said Mrs. Safety,
" 'i'he exertions of the day have proved
too great for your constitution. Perhaps
it would be as well to retire. Mr. Hand-
sucker will excuse you."

" Certainly," said Absalom very prompt-
ly, " don't let my being here keep you up,

1850.]

Everstone.

285

nor Mrs. Safety either. I am sure Miss
Arabella is company plenty for anybody."
Mr. Safety witJadrew from the apart-
ment, and as the door closed behind him,
his lady remarked affectionately : — " Poor,
dear Alonzo exhausts himself in this way
frequently. He is fond of rural cares, and
thinks that nobody can manage the plan-
tation so successfully as himself ; but there
he is mistaken. Much as he loves the pur-
suit, he is far from having the qualifications
to conduct it properly. For one thing, he
lacks the requisite powers of physical en-
durance, as you may see from his fatigue
this evening."

" If that's the case," said Absalom, " he
will hardly find Texas to suit him, I'm
thinking. Yet he says he means to get
there in the Spring."

"Oh, rejoined the helpmate, "Mr.
Safety is not going to Texas ; he wants the
energy for any^ move like that. He has
been talking of going to the West for years,
— yes, Mr. Handsucker, he has been pro-
jecking this way ever since we've been
married, and will continue to projeck as
long as he lives. I frequently tell Ara-
bella she must profit by my sad experience,
and choose herself a husband who has some
enterprize and decision."

" Then she ought to look 'mongst us
Northerners," remarked Absalom. " It
would astonish you to go up to York, and
see how all the folks, big and little, do rush
a-head !"

" I assure you, sir," said Mrs. Safety,
" that I am a great admirer of that feature
of the Yankee character — "

" But we are not Yankees," interrupted
Absalom. " They are the blue-nosed chaps
who scramble among the rocks in Massa-
chusetts and Connecticut. We are York-
ers of the Holland Dutch breed, which is
much the best stock."

" I dare say" resumed the lady, "but as I
was going to observe, I think it highly pro-
bable that our Southern race, fine as it is.
Blight be greatly improved by having some
of the best Northern qualities engrafted on
it."

" Just as your old-field cattle here would
be bettered by a cross with our Durhams
or Devons."

" I am not much acquainted with cows
and calves, and other cattle," said Mrs.
Safety, affectedly. " Alonzo, indeed, at-

tends to such things. His taste, in many
respects, is very singular, and he takes de-
light, sometimes, to torment me, by con-
trasting it with mine. Yor instance : — Mr.
Safety, as everybody knows, has good
blood in his veins [' not much of it, how-
ever,' thought Absalom,] as the country
can furnish ; yet every family has its un-
fortunate connections — so it is in Mr.
Safety's case. The Evanses here are quite
a low set, and most of them very poor, be-
sides. Well, Mr. Safety's aunt married
an Evans, — Joshua Evans^ — who was
once overseer for the present Mr. Asti-
ville's father. This man has been off at
the West this many a day — some thirty
years, I think. It is evident the whole
affair might sink into oblivion, yet so sin-
gularly queer is Mr. Safety, that he will
vex me, by calling these poor starving
Evanses, — who are no earthly kin to him,
as his aunt died without leaving children, —
his cousins. Just think of it, Mr. Hand-
sucker, an Evans a cousin of a Safety !"

" We are not so particular off our way,"
replied Absalom, " /have a cousin named
Evans — pretty fine sort of a man too — has
lots of apple orchards — rides about among
the quality, I can tell you."

" Very probable," said Mrs. Safety.
" Society is constituted very differently
with you. All Northerners are equally
worthy and respectable ; the whole com-
munity constitutes, as it were, a body of
nobility. Here it is otherwise : we have,
&c. &c."

But it would exhaust any quantity of pa-
tience to follow Mrs. Safety, as she contin-
ued to pour forth her profound remarks with
unabatedfluency. Absalom endured the flood
indeed ; but he had an object. He was wait-
ing till the " old woman" should go to bed,
and leave him alone with Arabella, when
they two would have the fun of keeping
awake all night long, by the Dutch method
of looking each other straight in the eye !
Eleven o'clock had passed, and Absalom, who
sat resolutely upright in his chair, began to
suspect that the fat woman before him
never felt somnolence or fatigue. She, on
her part, could not conjecture what pos-
sessed the visiter that he stayed so late.
Not anticipating that he would choose to
remain through the night, she had had no
chamber prepared, so she found herself un-
der a kind of housewifely necessity to

286

Everstone.

[March,

await his departure, before offering to close
doors and windows. At last midnight ar-
rived. Hope kept Absalom alert ; but
poor Arabella's eyelids, which had no such
stimulus, grew heavy, and the mother,
though she spoke on, could not help mark-
ing the close of every sentence with an em-
phatic nod.

" I never heard tell of an old madam so
provoking," thought the lover.

" Why don't the man go," sighed the
mistress of the house.

" Will you stay all night, sir .?" said
Mrs. Safety, compelled, in desperation, to
incur the risk of his acceptance. " I will
have a room put in readiness for you very
shortly."

" Don't be at any such trouble, ma'am
— I must be off after a little. Yet I hope
you will not stay up on my account, Mrs.
Safety. Arabella's all I want ; so make
your ' mind easy, and leave us to our-
selves." . ,.• .,

Mrs. Safety stared.

Absalom, observing her perplexity, ex-
plained : " It's the fashion to the North,
when a young man's visiting a young
woman, for the rest of the family to go to
bed early, and leave them to talk without
interruption, as long as they have a mind."

" Is it indeed ? — that's very curious.
But it is not the fashion here, Mr. Hand-
sucker."

" Yet you admit, ma'am, that some of
our customs are the best, and I leave it to
Arabella if this isn't one of them."

'' She has nothing to say about it," re-
plied Mrs. Safety, quickly. "And it is
time, too, for her to retire. Arabella, you
may bid Mr. Handsucker good evening.''

When the obedient daughter had left the
room, which she darkened, by depriving it
not only of her presence, but of one of the
candles, Mrs. Safety was silent for a few
seconds, and then renewed the expression
of her hope that the gentleman would be
content to accept lodging until morning.

" Thank you," returned Absalom, with

undisguised chagrin, " I can sleep com-
fortable enough to hum : — I came here to
see a handsome girl."

As he stumbled across the threshold m
his departure, muttering keen observations
about " some folks being so scary on ac-
count of their daughters," the matron
holding up the candle the while to enable
him to find his horse, a shout was heard,
sounding from the direction cf the gate
— or, to speak more accurately, " set of
bars.''

" Hark ! — what'is that ?"exelaimed Mrs.
Safety.

" Halloo! — Halloo! Does Alonzo Safety
live here .''''

" Yes,'' answered AbsaloiB, " You've
hit the right nail this time, carpeater, though
it be in the dark. What's wanting.?"

There was no immediate response ; but
presently a man walked up to the door.
By the aid of Mrs. Safety's caudle, it
could be distinguished that he was a short,
compact person, grey-headed, and with a
nervous, deep-lined countenance.

" How do you do, mum .?" sajd he, en-
tering the house without ceremony,
" This is Mrs. Safety, I take it. Alonzo
wrote word he had got a young wife since
I left Redland. You have heard of me, I
am sure. I am Joshua Evans.''''

''Gracious!" ejaculated Mrs. Safety,
with a side-glance to Absalom, that seemed
to say : " You never talk of Satan, but
he's at your elbow."

" Where's Alonzo.'"' inquired the stran-
ger, impatiently. " This young fellow has
no likeness to him, I'm sure.''

Mr. Safety's slumbers were broken,
a supper was prepared for his aunt's widow-
er, and a reluctant house-maid, under her
mistress' not very good-humored supervi-
sion, bustled about to find clean sheets and
pillow-cases for the spare bed.

The unfortunate Absalom, having lost
the better portion of a night's rest, mount-
ed Jack, and took his homeward, solitary
way.

To he Continued.

1850.]

A Caution to the Critics.

287

READ'S POEMS, OR A CAUTION TO THE CRITICS.

Mr. Editor : — I address you, with some
hesitation, on a topic in which all the young
poets of the country are deeply interested.
They are too proud and sensitive a tribe,
Mr. Editor, to undertake their own de-
fence. That defence would be their
shame It would be as though the master
of the puppet-show, excited by the jeers of
the crowd, should put his head out from
behind the curtain, and engage in an angry
defence of his puppets. The crowd would
receive him with a shout of merry derision,
and bestow some pleasant phrase upon
him, such as " go it. Read," " go it,
Dana," " hang the critics." With such,
and other more solid testimonials, the
merry world would pelt the luckless rhym-
ster who should undertake his own de-
fence.

There appeared, not long ago, in your
journal, a very caustic criticism of the
poems of Thomas Buchanan Read. The
review had points of wit in it, and was
what is vulgarly called a " readable re-
view." I dare say you thought it very
readable yourself, for though I am quite
sure you never read a line of Mr. Read's
poems, you were certainly amused with
this very Jesuitical and severe review of
them. I, myself, read that review, and
conceived from it a very poor opinion of
Mr. Read's powers as a poet. A friend of
Mr. Read, however, sent me a copy of
his rhymes, and, on opening the volume, I
was surprised, not to say shocked, to find
that a serious injury had been done to that
very excellent poet by his ill-natured re-
viewer. Please you now, send to the pub-
lishers for a copy of the work, and sit down,
quietly, on a Saturday evening, and read
the poems aloud to your family, and when
you have done so, peruse what I have here
written.

"Lays and Ballads. By Thomas Buchanan Read
Philadelphia: George S. Appleton. New York:
D. Appleton & Co.

There is no higher literary art than
criticism, and none more liable to abuse.
It may be so used as to enlighten and de-
light ; it may be so abused as to mislead
and offend.

A reviewer, free from prejudice and
possessing the power of literary apprecia-
tion, confers, by his just severity or his ju-
dicious praise, a blessing on the age — on
its authors and its readers. On the other
hand, a supercilious, rancorous, overbear-
ing spirit, however brilliant — a fulsome ad-
ulation, however elegantly expressed — are
but false beacons to the student, rocks and
quicksands to the hapless aspirant. We
are disgusted when personal animosity, or
a reckless selfishness and vanity, disguise
themselves under an assumed zeal for
good taste, sacrificing justice for the
display of a flashing wit. But when, with
a deep moral indignation, a reviewer rises
up to scourge pretence and ignorance from
the desecrated temples, he has a mission
that cannot be gainsayed ; only he must
eschew all extravagant expression. Ac-
curately and dispassionately to estimate
his author, he must divest himself of pre-
conceptions regarding any particular school,
age, or position, and guard especially
against an ill-bred disrespect.

As writers multiply, criticism becomes
more and more necessary ; and it appears
more difficult to discriminate as the need
of discrimination is greater.

That the copse luxuriate not into a wil-
derness, many a bough must be lopped
away, many a young tree uprooted, but
with a judgment as clear to spare as to con-
demn.

Satire is apt to grow by what it feeds on,
and too often the critical censor, beginning
in truth and sincerity, becomes excited by
success, and, heated in the chase, forgets
all but the mad desu-e to be in at the
death.

The critic assumes a nice and intricate
responsibility. There is the duty to the

288

A Caution to the Critics.

[March,

reader, and the duty to the author. The
first requires the annihilation of all that
is worthless ; the second, that no blight
touch the merest sapling giving promise of
a noble aftergrowth. He must be hum-
ble, withal. If, on opening a book, his
eyes chance to meet some frivolous idea,
some weak or ridiculous epithet, dull pas-
sage or ignorant blunder, he may not, like
the mere reader for amusement, throw
aside the volume and seek one more at-
tractive ; his duty is to look farther, to ex-
plore page after page, seeking, if yet be-
neath the rubbish, some gem of price may
not be found.

To the sensitive spirit of the poet a pe-
culiar tenderness is due. It is in poetry as
in morals. We frequently set up a stand-
ard on the ground of individual experi-
ences and conceptions, and whosoever
reaches not that, or is not excellent after a
particular pattern of our own, holds a low^
rank in our estimation. We have known
persons of an impulsive and ardent temper-
ament absolutely incapable of seeing any
thing good in those of a cool, prudential, or
unsocial character, and vice versa. Each
man thinks his own position most impor-
tant, and is surprised, or compassionates,
if it be not so acknowledged by another.
Like the poor French dancing master, who
exclaimed to the wealthy burgher, boasting
of his happier estate, "Ah, my God, sir!
but you do not dance !"

A finely sensitive taste for metrical har-
monies, shrinks from the harsh, rough line,
though it convey truth and beauty ; while
the idealist or the sentimentalist seizes the
thought and makes it his own, regardless
of the measure that conveyed it. We
must consider that if one fact is great on
this ground, another takes precedence on
that. One is mirthful, another is sad.
One imaginative, another philosophical. If
one delight us with the harmonies of
a flowing versification, another utters
" thoughts that breathe, and words that
burn. "

Pope could never have conceived that
noble hymeneal song The Epithalamion
of Spencer ; so neither could Spencer have
elaborated the elegant frivolity, the pomp-
ous drollery of that delicious little epic.
The Rape of the Lock. If Dryden, over
a " field of glory," drove his " coursers of

etherial race," the contemplative spirit of
Cowper delighted in

" Rural walks
Through lanes of grassy growth."

We are equally in the region of poetry
with Wordsworth in his crescent shaped
" Boat," " soaring away among the stars,"
or with Goldsmith taking our

" solitary rounds
Amidst the tangling walks and ruined grounds"

of Auburn; — ^with Byron, in the storm
upon Lake Leman ; or with Burns, turning
up the daisy with his plough.

Whether the soul be roused by the
trumpet, or lulled by the shepherd's pipe,
it matters not, so it be poetry ; and
these things only are necessary ; to ap-
preciate the spirit of the time, and ad-
minister to its necessities, holding in the
heart the law of love ; and being mainly
true to one's own nobler impulses. Art may
guide, but Nature must impel ; and as
the flight of a bird depends not wholly
on its pinions, but is sustained by an in-
wardly pervading force, so the poet, soai*-
ing on the wings of fancy and imagination,
must be sustained by truth and passion
from within.

Mr. Read's muse is unpractised ; his
verses are not equally finished. We can-
not apply to him the remark of Keats,

concerning Miss 's music, that " she

played without one sensation but the fact
of the ivory at her fingers," but rather, that
the soul of music is at his finger's ends,
only the keys will not always respond. He
is always in earnest, and filled with his sub-
ject. He appears not to have made versi-
fication a study, nor does a natural acute-
ness of sense preserve him uniformly from
the sin of inharmonious and labored verse :
This is particularly the case in his contem-
plative and moralizing vein : the refine-
ments of sentunent seem to hamper his
utterance; but in the expression of quick,
warm emotion, the verse becomes melodi-
ous as it is passionate : at one time flowing
with elegance of diction and delicacy of
rythm, at another reminding us of the
sweet airs of Mozart, played on a false
key, or an untuned instrument.

The non-conformity of the ballads to
the old-established ballad measurement,

1850.]

A Caution to the Critics.

289

does not particularly offend us. The nine-
line stanza of the " Maid of Linden Lane,"
is not indeed that of

" Those venerable ancient song inditers.
Who soared a pitch beyond our modem writers ;"

nor has it been generally used by the mod-
ern ballad writers, Shenstone, Goldsmith,
Mallet, and the rest ; who, though they
chose to polish, adhered mostly to the old
metres; and if Mr. Read's deviation be
a fault, it is equally ascribable to the Sjian-
ish Ballads of Lockhart, and to Poe's
popular ballad of The Raven.

To explain many of our author's pecu-
liarities of expression, would be to wipe
the down from the peach, or shake the dew
from the rose ; — they are a part of that
" shadow, to be felt, not grasped," which
is your reviewer's definition of Poetry.
We can no more, in " The Maid of Linden
Lane," analyze the exact meaning of

" the chaff
From the melancholy grain,"

than, in " The Rhyme of the Ancient Mar-
riner," we can explain the meaning of

" The silly buckets on the deck."

In following the fate of the two lovers,
we feel assured that the relater of the
story, tottering with her staff beneath the
weight of years, must have witnessed what
she so feelingly describes ; yet we meet a
pleasant and satisfactory surprise in the
concluding lines :

" For remember, love,' that I
Was the maid of Linden Lane."

The bustle and activity preceding the bat-
tle, the bray of the trumpet, the waving of
banners, the neighing of chargers, the belt-
ed knights with waving plumes, the thun-
ders of artillery, and the " fiery fray," are
all effective, and have much of Campbell's
spirit ; it is only to be regretted that a
gross error in syntax should mar one of the
finest stanzas.

" Belted for the fiercest fight.
And with swimming plume of white,
Passed the lover out of sight

With the hurrying hosts amain.
Then the thunders of the gun
On the shuddering breezes run."

This ballad, however, affords, by no means,

the best specimens of our author's power.
One song (we give it entire, for it is
short, and there is not a line that we can
spare,) soars up "like a cloud of fire." It
is delicate and euphonious, yet rich, pas-
sionate, and luxurious. The old anacreon-
tic spirit pervades it. Standing alone, it
indicates the genius of the poet— the true
poet — forgetful of the reader, and wrapt in
his intense consciousness of the beautiful,
uttering like a prophet the emotions of a full
soul.

■' Bring me the juice of the honey fruit,
The large translucent, amber-hued.
Rare grapes of southern isles, to suit
The luxury that fills my mood.

And bring me only such as grew

Where rarest maidens tend the bowers,

And only fed by rain and dew

Which first had bathed a bank of flowers.

They must have hung on spicy trees

In airs of far enchanted vales.
And all night heard the ecstacies

Of noble-throated nightingales :

So that the virtues which belong
To flowers may therein tasted be.

And that which hath been thrilled with song
May give a thrill of song to me.

For I would wake that string for thee
Which hath too long in silence hung,

And sweeter than all else should be
The song which in thy praise is sung."

Into such a song as this " the mazy, run-
ning soul" of the nightingale's melody
might seem indeed to have been poured.

Of a different, but still of a pleasing
quality, is " The Butterfly in the City ;"
the sentiment refined, but the measure im-
perfect.

" The Beggar of Naples" we like least
of all — the prettiest thing about it is the
likening of a smile to

" The earliest primrose of the spring
Which at the brook-side, suddenly in sight
Gleams like a water sprite."

Of a purely meditative character, and
not unlike some of the fine moral touches
of Longfellow, is " The Deserted Road,"
a fair specimen of our author's general
manner.

" Ancient road, that wind'st deserted
Through the level of the vale,
Sweeping toward the crowded market
Like a stream without a sail ;

290

A Caution to the Critics.

[March,

Standing by thee, I look backward.

And, as in the light of dreams.
See the years descend and vanish,

Like thy whitely tented teams.

Here I stroll along the village,

As in youth's departed morn ;
But I miss the crowded coaches.

And the driver's bugle-horn —

Miss the crowd of jovial teamsters

P'illing buckets at the wells,
With their wains from Conestoga,

And their orchestras of bells.

To the mossy way-side tavern

Comes the noisy throng no more.
And the faded sign, complaining,
1 Swings, unnoticed, at the door ;

While the old, decrepid tollman.

Waiting ior the few who pass.
Reads the melancholy story

In the thickly springing grass. • , , ,

Ancient highway, thou art vanquished ;

The usurper of the vale
Rolls in fiery, iron rattle.

Exultations on the gale.

Thou art vanquished and neglected ;

But the good which thou hast done,
Though by man it be forgotten.

Shall be deathless as the sun.

Though neglected, gray and grassy.

Still I pray that my decline
May be through as vernal valleys.

And as blest a calm as thine."

The following has a mysterious, dreamy
romance about it : — --..y,- :

" MIDNIGHT.

The moon looks down on a world of snow.
And the midnight lamp is burning low.
And the fading embers mildly glow

In their bed of ashes soft and deep ;
All, all is still as the hour of death ; ' ' '

I only hear what the old clock saith.
And the mother and infant's easy breath,

That flows from the holy land of Sleep.

Or the watchman who solemnly wakes the dark,
With a voice like a prophet's when few will hark,
And the answering hounds that bay and bark

To the red cock's clarion horn —
The world goes on — the restless world,
With its freight of sleep through the darkness

hurled.
Like a mighty ship, when her sails are furled.

On a rapid but noiseless river borne.

Say on, old clock— I love you well,

For your silver chime, and the truths you tell.

Your very stroke is but the knell

Of hope, or sorrow buried deep ;
Say on, but only let me hear

The sound most sweet to my listening ear.
The child and the mother breathing clear
Within the harvest fields of Sleep."

There are two more stanzas, but there
should not have been ; the poem naturally
and more effectively ends here.

" The Song for the Sabbath Morning,"
the last two stanzas of the " Night
Thought," and the two stanzas describing
a runnel and a cascade in " The Light of
our Home," are eminently beautiful.

Of the " Alchemist's Daughter," we
vv^ould say that the dramatic is not
Mr. Read's forte.

Of those remarkable inequalities which
denote at once his genius and his lack of
cultivation or attention, and which expose
him on so many sides to the shafts of crit-
icism, we offer some examples. What un-
pardonable carelessness, what a complete
falling asleep of the muse in the following:

" Conquered at last, the flying tribe descries
Its ancient wigwams burn, a?id light its native
skies."

One would scarcely credit that the same
author produced what succeeds it.

" The pioneers their gleaming axes swing.
The sapling falls, and dies the forest's sire —
The foliage fades — but sudden flames upspring.
And all the grove is leafed again with fire.
While gleams the pine tree like a gilded spire.
The homeless birds sail, circling wild and high;
At night the wolves gaze out their fierce desire ;
For weeks the smoke spreads, blotting all the sky.
While, twice its size, the sun rolls dull and redly
by."

The expression " twice its size," betrays
the want of study ; while the close of the
line is highly poetic.

Among much that is characterized only
by heaviness and mediocrity, we light oc-
casionally upon such lines as the following :

" And heard low music breathe above, around,
As if the air within itself made sound ;
As if the soul of Melody were pent
Within some unseen instrument.
Hung in a viewless tower of air.
And with enchanted pipes beguiled its own despair."
*******

" I walked the woods of March, and through the

boughs
The earliest bird was calling to his spouse ;
And in the sheltered nooks
Lay spots of snow,

Or with a noiseless flow
Stole down the brooks j

1850]

A Caution to the Critics.

291

And where the spring-time sun had longest shone,
The violet looked up and found itself alone."
*******
" Through underwood of laurel, and across
A little lawn, shoe-deep with sweetest moss,
I passed, and found a lake, which like a shield
Some giant long had ceased to wield.
Lay with its edges sunk in sand and stone
With ancient roots and grasses overgrown."

* * * » »

" And swinging roses, like sweet censers, went
The village children making merriment."

* * » » »
" Hark, how the light winds flow and ebb

Along the open halls forlorn ;
See how the spider's dusty web

Floats at the casement, tenantless and torn !

The old, old sea, as one in tears.

Comes munnuring with its foamy lips,

And knocking at the vacant piers.

Calls for its long lost multitude of ships.

Against the stone-ribbed wharf, one hull
Throbs to its ruin, like a breaking heart :

Oh, come, my breast and brain are full
Of sad response — grim silence keep the mart !"

We should trespass upon our limits to
indulge in more copious extracts. Our
object has been to give fair play, and show
that if our author have faults, he has also
some of the highest characteristics of the
true poet.

Experience is called the great Teacher,
yet how often does experience fail. We
seem to learn no lesson from the mistakes
made in all times of depreciating each new
aspirant, simply because he is new, and
awarding to genius, too late, the meed that
might have cheered, encouraged, and per-
fected it. We think little of the sunlight
that falls along our daily walk, but we
strain the admiring gaze to mark, through
a telescope, the path of a distant planet.

If we have not mistaken our author, he
will not " be kUled by one critique."
There is a vitality in the creations of
genius : — mowed down by the pitiless sickle,
it soon renews its latent growth, and springs
afresh in its own glorious atmosphere.

292

Spain.

[March,

SPAIN:*

HER WAYS, HER WOMEN, AND HER WINES.

No country is more generally known
than Spain ; few countries, perhaps, are
less well known. Distracted for the last
two centuries by the unparalleled impu-
dence of foreign interference, that unfortu-
nate but beautiful peninsula has thrilled the
world with the romance of her misery.
Her history enjoys the melancholy privi-
lege of being dramatic, and with its stir-
ring incidents the world is well acquainted.
But we are strangely ignorant of the habits,
manners, and feelings of the Spanish popu-
lation of the present day. Most of us
derive our information in this respect from
the pages of Cervantes and Le Sage. The
French humorist, in particular, evinces so
thorough an acquaintance with the interior
life of the Spaniards, that the latter, en-
vious of a foreigner's glory, reaped from
their own soil, have taken advantage of
that very circumstance to argue, with some
show of probabihty, that no one but a na-
tive of their country could be the author
of Gil Bias. Strange misfortune of an
author, whose genius was so great that
they refused to believe it was his own !

The life-like air of reality impressed
upon those miraculous pages, takes such a
deep hold on the imagination that it would
be difficult to persuade the reader that Gil
Bias is not a trustworthy guide-book even
to this day, and that the personages in that
wonderful picture are not immortal types
of the Spanish character. This idea has
been furthermore kept alive by a host of
other writers, great and small, who have
drawn on that inexhaustible source of inci-
dent and picturesqueness to supply the
weakness of their own invention. With
most readers a kind of Cimmerian darkness
envelopes Spain. They will entertain any

fiction, however wild, any range of imagina-
tive ornament, however fantastic, and any
improbabilities of incident or character, so
that the "venue" be laid there. Therefore,
the stage and the novel have filled their
pages and scenes with traditional hidalgos
in rags, exacting corregidors, venal algua-
zils, and revengeful prime-ministers, plau-
sible and nature-like enough in Spain,
though impossible elsewhere.

The brigands, too, and the contraband-
istas — what elements of adventure they
ofier to the young writer ! what a relief to
a dull tale lies in a surprise by a party of
guerUleros ! True, all these tit-bits of
romance belong to the past in Spain, as
elsewhere ; but wliUe the reading public are
tolerably well aware of the true state of
things in England, France, or even Russia,
they still obstinately cling to the belief
that Spain, in the midst of the world's
progress, has remained in a stationary state
of lethargy for centuries, and that Rip Van
Winkle, had he fallen asleep in Castile,
under the reign of the English Mary's
husband, would have no great cause for
wonder upon awaking now.

Strange though it may appear, this pre-
vailing misconception of the world in re-
gard to Spain seems destined to be dispelled
by American writers. The names of Pres-
cott and Irving are inseparably connected
with her antiquities and her chi'onicles, and
some of our most intelligent travellers have
brought to the task of estimating her condi-
tion, in modern times, that candid and un-
prejudiced spirit of inquiry, which alone is

* Glimpses of Spain, or Notes of an Unfin-
ished Tour in 1847, by S, T. Wallis. New
York, Harper & Brothers.

1850.]

Spain.

293

equal to the enterprise, and which Euro-
pean explorers could scarcely be expected
to exercise in the case of the Peninsula.
For if it be true that they who have done
the wrong can never forgive, Spain can
expect neither mercy nor justice from the
rest of the continent to which she belongs.
These remarks occurred to us when we
were perusing the pleasing relation of Mr.
Wallis' travels. How much more appro-
priate are they now, that Mr. Ticknor's
work,* a prodigy of labor and learning,
has displayed to the world the hidden
wealth of Spanish literature. We can
hardly be brought to believe in the eclipse
which has fallen upon the glory of Castile,
when we look at the wonderful works of
art she has produced in spite of Inquisition
and tyranny ; when we remember the tre-
mendous energies she has put forth under
tlie most discouraging adversity ; when we
consider that even now, under the pres-
sure of governmental mismanagement and
injudicious, or even unrighteous laws, her
manufactures are struggling hopefully for
success ; when we reflect that, in her ut-
most hour of need, she has always given
birth to some worthy son providentially
commissioned to save her. We can hardly
have faith in the decline of the land of the
Campeador and Zumala Carreguy. Yet
there is no denying that she presents, at
this moment, a lamentable picture of de-
generacy and political insignificance. Per-
haps ethnology might solve the problem,
and reconcile the apparent contradiction
by pointing out, side by side with the de-
cay of the Visigothic population, (which,
like all mongrels, must speedily pass away) ,
the resurrection of the ancient Iberian
spirit, the inextinguishable vitality that
marks aU aboriginal stocks, and the future
redemption of classical Hispania by the
descendants of those who so long resisted
the Carthaginian and the Roman armies.

But considerations of such a nature
would carry us too far, and we must be
content to view the Spaniards as they now
appear to us, without distinction of race or
breed — precisely as one who studies their
literature need spend no time in distin-
guishing what portions of their language

* History of Spanish Literature, by George
Ticknor — in three volumes. New York, Harper
&. Brothers.

are derived from the Basque, and what
from the Latin. Nor is this the only con-
sideration that applies equally to the habits
and the written works of a people. In all
countries, national character and literature
are found to keep pace together, the latter
as the exponent of the former, and both
impressed with kindred features. In Spain
it is preeminently so, and the peculiarities
both of their school of art of their tem-
perament, present a family resemblance
that shows them, at one glance, derived
alike from the same circumstances.

From the age of Count Julian to that of
the Cid, during which all of the Visigothic
race that yet retained any of the manhood
of their barbarous progenitors had sought a
refuge among the mountains of the interior,
where they acquired fresh energy in a more
laborious mode of life, and perhaps fresh
vitality from admixture with the aboriginal
race, — what a rude training for the lan-
guage and the character of the Spaniards.
The pure Latin which they spoke, now
tainted with Moorish and Basque, sank into
a confused chaos, from which the sonorous
Castilian afterwards arose. For in idioms,
as elsewhere, decay and corruption con-
tain within themselves the germs of life.

Nor could the exiles of Valencia and
Toledo forget, in the rugged fastnesses of
Biscay and the Asturias, the fair inheri-
tance which the victorious Crescent had
wrested from the Cross. As soon as they
had recovered from their first consterna-
tion, they commenced that unrelenting
warfare to the knife, which they pursued
with indomitable energy until the blood of
Tolosa had washed out the disgrace of
Roderick. It was during this desperate
hand-to-hand conflict, which lasted five or
six centmies, that the Spanish language
and the Spanish national character were
formed. What wonder if both present
some rugged features ; what wonder if the
idiom is less soft than the Tuscan, and the
temper of the people full of enthusiastic
exaggerations. A nation, born, as it were,
on the field of battle, might well be ex-
pected to possess some of the less amiable
attributes of the warlike character, and
after spending her adolescence in a fierce
religious contest, might be forgiven if reli-
gious intolerance sometimes mingled with
her religious feeling. These circumstances
afiected Spanish art ; for the hereditary ene-

294

Spain,

[March,

my of the Moor scorned to believe by halves,
and embraced, with the same fervor of
exalted faith, the Athanasian creed and the
traditionary legends, the divine mission and
the story of the portrait which Christ sent
toKingAbgarus,the mysterious atonement
on the Cross, and the genuineness of the
letter of Proconsxil Lentulus to the Roman
Senate, containing a description of the
personal appearance of the Saviour.

Hence, the fine arts in Spain took a tone
of intense fervor and severe simplicity,
carried, as every thing else in that land of
ultraism, to extreme exaggeration. Cer-
tain types obtained, by universal consent,
the authority of law, and woe to the rebel
whom the Inquisition caught departing
from precedent. The canonized lived again
on canvas or in marble, in their own true
repulsiveness of penitential sanctity, with
profuse and heavy drapery, with features
emaciated by privations and composed in
the rigid callousness of devotional contem-
plation. But never was the heaven-born
inspiration of beauty admitted to gild the
dreams of the Spanish artist, or to animate
his creations. Never did the chisel or the
brush, in that land of formal decorousness,
disrobe the human form, that embodiment
of the divine essence, to show the admira-
ble symmetry of its proportions. Seldom
was the fair face of nature found sitting
for her portrait to a genuine son of CastUe ;
so that Spanish art, with aU its warmth of
feeling and its ardent temperament, be-
came confined to the narrowest channel,
and preying upon itself, fell, as it were,
into a monomania. Portraits of solemn
friars, grim warriors, and stifi", haughty
courtiers, legends of impossible miracles,
formed, together with the more impressive
episodes of the history of Christianity, the
entire staple of painting and sculpture in
the Penuisula. It was not uncommon for
the Church, — the most Uberal patron of
arts at one time, — in her contracts with
artists, to impose upon them, as on one
occasion was tha case with Navarette, the
condition " that they should adhere strictly
to Spanish orthodoxy and avoid the intro-
duction of any Italian accessories or theo-
logical improprieties . ' '

Since Marshal Soult robbed Spain of
her master-pieces, the world has learned
to appreciate and admire the works of
Murillo, Domenico el GrecOy and Herra-

ra, and many others almost unknown be-
fore. The due amount of technical cant
has been expended to illustrate their me-
rits. And for a straight-forward, scholar-
like account of some of the chief monu-
ments of Spanish art, we unhesitatingly
refer the reader to the work whose title
stands at the head of this paper.

But it is in the literature, and even in
the very essence of the language of Spain,
that the infiuence of the circumstances at-
tending their growth can more obviously
and curiously be traced. An undertone
of heroic pomp may be distinctly felt va.
both, and though less consonant with the
present condition of the country than it was
with the splendors of Charles V., it har-
monizes gracefully enough with " that all-
respecting self-respect which it is a miracle
not to find in the bearing of a Spaniard,
be he high or low," — to quote a judicious
remark of Mr. Wallis.

The name of that elegant writer reminds
us that we have been digressing over much
from the consideration of his work. Driven
to travel by the delicate state of his health,
he resolved to visit Spain. A short stay
in Barcelona furnished him with materials
for several very interesting chapters. From
one of these we will make free to ofier a
few extracts, partly because we feel a pre-
sentiment that from Catalonia will rise the
spirit which is destined to regenerate Spain,
but chiefly because we think that, while
but little is known in regard to the rest of
the Peninsula, nothing at all is known con-
cerning this particular section of it. " The
Catalans, as all the world knows, have been
famous, from their earliest history, for in-
dustry, intelligence, energy, obstinacy and
combativeness ; fond alike of freedom and
money, they have seldom lost an oppor-
tunity of asserting the one, or scraping up
the other. They were always among the
foremost to bully or rebel against an unruly
king, in the tunes when such performances
were more perilous than at present ; and in
these days of pronunciamientos, they will
get you up a civil war, or regale themselves
with a bombardment, upon as short notice
as the gamins of Paris require to break
down an old dynasty or blow up a new one.
Their physiognomy and general bearing
show you, unequivocally and at once, that
they are a sturdy, manly, independent
people. They are quiet and grave, upon

1850.]

Spain.

295

the promenades and in the public places,
but they have an air of doggedness about
them which strikes you at first, as peculiar
to individuals, but which you soon find to
be almost universal. The common people,
in their provincial dress, look sullen and
fierce. Their sandals and girded loins
give them a pilgrim air, as of men from
for countries, and their harsh, grating dia-
lect seems no improper vehicle for the
expression of then- habitual turbulence.
Nevertheless, you see few beggars and no
idlers among them. They are doing some-
thing always, and doing it in good earnest,
as if they took pleasure as well as profit,
to consist, chiefiy, in occupation. The In-
fante Don Gabriel (one of the few among
the later Bourbons, who have had capacity
enough to say or do anything sensible) was
the author of some clever verses, descrip-
tive of the several provincial characteristics
of his countrymen. Of the Catalans, he
says, among other things, that they are
able — " hacer, de las piedi'as, panes," to
convert stones into bread; and, indeed,
when we look into the rugged soil which
they have subdued into fertility, and the
constancy and patient industry with which
they give themselves to the severest labor
upon land and sea, we must concede that,
even if they be, as their countrymen
alledge, the most querulous and exacting
of the provincial family, it is from no re-
luctance to put their own shoulders to the
wheel, that they call so often upon Hercu-
les. Some travellers say that they are
uncivil to strangers, my experience was
entirely to the contrary. Their courtesy,
though not exuberant, I found both ready
and cordial. True, as I have said, their
manners are, in general, reserved, and their
speech is laconic, but the ide is soon broken,
and their intelligence and general clever-
ness repay the trouble amply.

"The Catalan is no favorite with his
brethren of the other provinces. They
have sundry hard names for him, which are
more expressive than delicate, " Cerrado
como pie demula''' (contracted, close, like
a mule's hoof), is the proverbial phrase
into which they have compressed their idea
of his character. John Bull, too, has his
say in the premises. The Catalans, ac-
cording to his notion, are selfish, greedy of
gain and monopoly, fierce foes to that glo-
rious system of free -trade, of which Eng-

land is now the apostle to the custom-house
gentiles, and which, sooner or later, is to
be rounded with some sort of a millenium,
John Bull, therefore, denounces them, in
all the terms, measured and tmmeasured,
which such heterodoxy on their part de-
serves, and when his wrath is especially
kindled, as some pet Spanish scheme of hia
falls through, he wreaks himself upon ex-
pression and calls them the " Yankees of
Spain." In all his endeavors to negotiate
commercial treaties, and break down the
restrictive system which the Catalans par-
ticularly afiect, he is influenced, he gives
you his honor, by none but the most bene-
volent and unselfish consideraticms. France
may have some motive of her own in pull-
ing down Espartero and putting up Nar-
vaez, but England looks only to the hap-
piness of Spain in keeping Narvaez down,
or keeping up Espartero. What matter
can such things be to England } If she
cannot import through the custom-house,
she can smuggle in spite of it, and there-
fore it is all the same to her in point of
fact, whether she has treaties ot not. It
is a mere question of morality," (Black-
wood, vol. XXV., p. 723) ; but then John
Bull is a famous stickler for that, as every
body knows.

" The Catalans, upon their side, say that
the world is too old, for people with beards
on their chins to believe, that nations send
embassadors about the globe on crusades
of disinterested benevolence. Bailan al
son que tocan^ is an old Castilian proverb.
' If people dance, it is because there is
some music' Mr. Cobden had passed
through Spain but a short time before my
visit, and the free-trade enthusiasm was in
full blast in consequence. The Propa-
gador, a newspaper in Cadiz, was espe-
cially devoted to the dissemination of the
anti-custom-house faith. Mr. Bulwer's
paper, the Espanol, of Madrid, was fuU
of most demonstrative articles, in which
it was satisfactorily proven, by facts and
figures, that free-trade would bring back,
permanently, to the Peninsula, days a»
golden as when her western mines were
fresh. The Catalans, and the protective
politicians generally, used to shrug their
shoulders, and wonder if the case would
be made out half so clearly, if the Ingleses
had not an interest in the market, as well
as the logic. Free-trade, they said, was

296

Spain.

[March,

a good text to preach from, after a nation
had so perfected her manufactures, as to
find her surest monopoly in freedom. They
thouo-ht it odd that Great Britain should
never have proclaimed free-trade in the
produce of her soil, till her own people
were starving, or have encouraged it in her
manufactures, till she was able to starve
other people." (P. 36-S).

With all his keen perception of the
selfish and interested policy of Great Bri-
tain in seeking to propagate (late converts
are ever zealous) her doctrines of free-
trade abroad, Mr. Wallis is not blind to
the evils the protective system entails when
carried to an excess. " It is impossible,"
he says, " for any intelligent and disinter-
ested man to doubt, that the present Spa-
nish system of tariifs on imports is absurd,
in both its impositions and restrictions.
Bad as it is, it is not half carried out, so
that it does little else but thwart and nul-
lify itself, which is pretty fair proof of
folly. I went into a shop on the Rambla
at Barcelona, and asked the price of some
French wares, the high charge for which
astonished me so much that I remonstrated.
The good woman told me that what I said
was very true. ' Mas que quiere vmd ?
What will your worship have us do ? It
is impossible to get prohibited goods into
the city, without paying at least seventy
per cent, on their value to the smuggler."

" ' But is it possible,' I asked, ' that all
these goods are prohibited .'' Your window
is full of them, and the officers of the cus-
toms pass here at all hours.'

" ' No hay duda^ Senor — there's no
doubt of that. Under the old system,
they would perhaps have given me some
trouble, but now that we have a constitu-
tion, the house of the citizen is inviolable.
Once get yom* goods into the house, and
there is an end of the business. There is
scarcely a shop on the Rambla that is not
full of prohibited goods.' "

When will law -makers learn that in
legislation, extreme measures defeat their
own ends .'' A question to be addressed to
other legislators as well as those of Spain.
In that country, however, the blind poUcy
of the government in this respect has
developed to greater perfection than else-
where, a profession well suited to the
adventurous and daring but desultory en-
terprise of its population. The rivers and

harbors are full of swift misticos and felu-
cas — the mountain-passes are full of hardy
parties of muleteers, whose sole occupation
is to defraud the revenue.

Departing from Barcelona, our enter-
taining traveller takes us southward, chat-
ting agreeably and describing picturesquely
whatever occurs of sufficient note ; yet, we
regret to say, dispelling the pre-conceived
romance of some of the most prevailing
notions concerning Spain. For instance,
he is so unfortunate as not to meet a single
pretty woman in Valencia, although Gau-
thier and Ford both certify that there are
multitudes of beauties in that city ; " and
what a Frenchman and an Englishman
agree on, must be as demonstrable as any
thing in Euclid." At Alicante he scarcely
meets with better luck, and although he
is wUling to endorse its reputation for fe-
male loveliness, he is denied the best op-
portunity, perhaps, for judging, i. e. a walk
through its famous cigar factory, where
three or four thousand women are said to
be employed — " a world of labor, sure, to
end in smoke." At Cartagena and Alme-
ria, he leaves us provokingly in suspense
on that interesting topic, and at Malaga
he becomes decidedly ungallant, and gives
the sanction of his authority to a verse
current in the country,

Malaga ticne la fama
De las miijeres bonitas ;
Mas no es tan fiero el leon
Como lasjentes lo pintan.'

which uncourteous stanza may be rendered
(freely) as follows : —

Here Fame invests each girl and dame
With every charm and grace —

Who paints the Devil black 1 Why, Fame
That never saw his face.

Mr. Wallis' description of the luscious
plenty that prevails in this part of Spain,
would make Lord Gidoseton's mouth
fairly water — and, report to the contrary
notwithstanding, would leave us to infer
that the bountiful presents of nature are
nowise rendered nugatory by unscholar-
Uke cookery, garlic having lately grown as
unpopular in Spain as robbers and high-
waymen are scarce. For scarce they really
are, and our author deplores, with much
feeling, that uninteresting safety of the
highways, which deprived hun of his share
of hair-breadth escapes.

1850.]

Spain.

297

Unable, unfortunately, to treat his read-
ers to glowing descriptions of the Spanish
banditti, who seem to have almost vanished
from then- classical home, Mr. Wallis, in
sheer despair, discusses another class who
sometimes take life in the pui-suit of their
avocations. We will quote some of his
concluding remarks concerning the medi-
cal profession in Malaga.

" As a matter of justice to the faculty of
Malaga (though perhaps they have nothing
to do with it) I ought to mention, that in
looking over the daily bills of mortality, as
published in the newspapers, I was con-
stantly struck with the frequent instances
of longevity. Deaths of persons, over
ninety years of age, occured very often
during my first visit. I remember that of
one who had gone considerably over an
hundred, and the proportion of those who
died at sixty, seventy, and eighty, was quite
large. Captain Widdington notices this
fact in his sketches, and it is entitled to
some consideration, on account of the par-
ticularity with which the parish records are
kept, and the consequent improbability of
mistake. I cannot account for the anom-
aly, in view of the medical habits alluded
to, unless it be, that the parties who had
lived so long had been too poor to employ
physicians, or that constitutions which could
survive the Consulias of twenty years,
were good for a century at least, in the ab-
sence of earthquakes and pronunciamentos.

" Whether the Spanish physicians are
responsible for some very droll notions up-
on medical subjects, which prevail among
the people, I am not prepared to say ; but,
if they be, it is clear that their art needs
mending. Pulmonary consumption, for ex-
ample, is popularly deemed contagious, and
patients suffering from it are treated and
shunned accordingly. When death en-
sues, the sick-chamber goes through a per-
fect quarantine of disinfection ; and beds,
clothing and furniture are consigned to the
flames. In Cadiz, it occurred tome to ex-
change my travelling bag for one of a more
convenient size. The tradesman expressed
his regret that he could not find any use
for mine : " It is an excellent one" he said,
" but it has been slightly used and nobody
will buy it. My customers will think that
it has belonged to some consumptive person,
(algun etico) and although your worship

does not look like one, it will be of no
avail for me to say so."

" In the use of leeches to reduce inflam-
mation of the brain, it is customary to ap-
ply them, at the lower extremity of the
spine ; the theory being, that the farther
you draw the blood from the diseased part
the better ! Why, upon that principle,
they stop short of the soles of the feet, or
do not send the blood a league into the
country afterward, seems rather difficult to
understand.

" An English gentleman told me, that
in conversation with one of the most emi-
nent of the faculty in Grenada, he alluded
to the recent discoveries in regard to sul-
phuric ether. " You mistake," said Es-
culapius. " It is not ether ; it is carbonic
acid gas, and I tell you it is very danger-
ous. It asphyxiates the patient immedi-
ately !"

We dare say that these playful flings at
" the profession" in Spani must be merited.
For we find our author but little addicted to
satire, except when he is dealing with some
French or English traveller in whose track
he follows. Alexander Dumas, Theophile
Gautier, Ford, and many others are treated
by him with unmerciful rigor. But to every
thing Spanish, he is as gentle as if his jour-
ney had been a pilgrimage of love.

The character which he claims for Span-
ish women stands in bold relief by the side
of the flippant descriptions which other tra-
vellers have given us. Since Byron took
upon himself the ungenerous task of de-
faming the fair sex of the Peninsula, it has
become the fashion to follow his example.
Not a French commis-voyageur^ not a Bri-
tish graduate, who does not claim to have
been very generally an object of particular
solicitude and tender affection among the
beauties of Seville and Cadiz. To hear
these self-sufficient travel-writers, chastity
does not exist in Spain. We are tempted
to think that they ignorantly judged of the
whole society of that country from the very
limited and not very exalted part of it that
admitted their visits. We will never for-
get the experience of the author of Miriam
Coffin in that respect. He was once walk-
ing in a Spanish city with a Caledonian
friend. A beautiful female passed them in the
street, and, turning back, smUed somewhat
significantly towards them. Mr. Hart ex-
pressed his astonishment, " Oh dom !"

298

Spain.

[March

answered his matter-of-fact friend, "she is
nothing but a dom'd "

We will not finish the sentence, since the
author himself does not. Mr. Hart quotes
this as the only instance of immodest con-
duct on the part of a Spanish female that
ever came under his observation. And we
should not wonder if the only difference, in
that respect, between him and some more
cynical travellers, consisted in this : that
the latter, in their excursions did not
always chance to have a matter-of-fact
Scotchman by their side.

We have lingered too long, we find, in
that part of Spain to which properly ap-
plies the " dura tellus Iberics.''^ Were we
to follow Mr. Wallis, we must visit in turn
Seville, Cordova, Grenada, and what, with
his pleasing narrative, the thousand recol-
lections which these names awaken and
the time we must employ in worship to the
genius of Irving that consecrates the Moor-
ish capital, this paper would stretch beyond
its allotted limits. Not only the poetry of
Spain but even its utilitarian matter-of-
fact statistics must we leave unnoticed in
our haste. Surely we would greatly as-
tonish some of our readers if we were to
copy from Mr, Wallis his account of some
of the manufactures of Spain. But we
may not pause. Embark we, therefore, with
Lim on board the first steanicr ; let us force
the ne plus nkra of Hercules, and bestow-
ing a passing glance upon Gibraltar, rejoice
that we are once more upon our own At-
lantic. Nor dare we tarry with him at
Cadiz, although an English traveller says
that " it may be seen in one day." Here
we might be forcibly detained by attractions
far superior to those of Moorish remains,
galleries of paintings or vasty gothic ca-
thedrals, haunted with feudal reminiscen-
ces. The " Girl of Cadiz," as sung by
Byron, remains in the imagination as a
choice type of female lovliness ;and strange
to say, not a dissenting voice has been raised
against her claim. Mr. Hart, in his Ro-
mance of Yachting,"* has enthusiastically
endorsed the world-wide reputation of the
ladies of Cadiz for beauty, and even our
fastidious travaller, Mr. Wallis, is content

* The Romance of Yachting. Voyage the
First. By Joseph C. Hart, Author of Miriam
Cofiiii. New York, Harper & Brothers.

to join, in his quiet way, his own homage to
that of all former tourists.

From Cadiz, however, we may be per-
mitted to accompany our author on a flying
trip to Xeres, and then, with the nectar of
its vintage stUl upon our lips, (at least in
imagination) close the agreeable volume
to which we have dedicated these remarks.

A flying trip to Xeres did we say .? No,
Xeres is deserted. We will only take the
ferry-boat at Cadiz, and flying across the
bay on the wings of steam, land at Port
Saint Mary, where Dufi" Gordon's famous
cellars are, where all the wine-merchants
of Xeres keep their pleasant country-houses
and their still pleasanter vaults. At the
mouth of the Lethe — oh land of Hesperia,
what a host of classical recollections arise
at the mention of that name, corrupted
though it be into the modern " Guadalete,"
which Arabic scholars teach us is com-
pounded of the ancient word with the
Moorish prefix signifying water. These
abstemious Moslems, unacquainted with
the sweet forgetfulness of sack, how could
they couple the idea of water with that of
Lethe ? The true Lethe sleeps on the
banks of that stream within the cool capa-
cious cellars of Duff Gordon, where twelve
tuns of immense size baptized (sans water)
with the names of the apostles, contain ob-
livion enough to have drowned all the sor-
rows of that last Gothic army which poor
Roderick arrayed against the Paynim on
this very spot. In praise of genuine Sherry
(Xeres) we need not speak. We will ap-
peal to the recollection of our readers, and
invoke the genius of Falstaff to our aid.

" A good Sherris sack hath a twofold
operation in it. It ascends me into the
brain, dries me there all the foolish and
dull and crudy vapors which environ it ;
makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive,
full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes ;
which delivered o'er to the voice which is
the birth, becometh excellent wit. The
second property of your excellent Sherris
is, the warming of the blood ; which, before
cold and settled, left the liver white and
pale, which is the badge of pusillanimity
and cowardice ; but the Sherris warms it,
and makes it course from the inwards to
the parts extreme."

Most fully will we endorse the com-
mendation of the critical Sir John, provided
that it be applied exclusively to pure Xeres

1850.]

Spain.

299

wine unadulterated with any strengthening
or coloring matter. It is really unac-
countable that a thing in itself so excellent
as good wine must needs be drugged by
meddling improvers upon the handiwork of
nature. Pure wine is seldom exported
from Spain or Portugal. A late writer has
created almost a panic among the wine
drinkers of England by his exposition of
sundry secrets attending the manufactiu-e
of Port. We forget his statistics, nor
have we the pamphlet at hand. But it
would appear that the Port wine we drink
in this country is invariably an article
whose fermentation has been stopped f coupe
the French wine-growers call it) by an ad-
mixture of brandy in a frightful proportion.
The theory is, that all wines if allowed to
ferment to the full extent are somewhat
sharp to the taste while new, and that this
peculiar flavor which would betray the date
of the vintage can be disguised by inter-
rupting the process of fermentation. The
imperfect, stunted liquor obtained in this
artificial manner, though pleasing to the
palate, requires some further " doctoring"
to disguise other characteristics attendant
upon wine insufficiently fermented. So
that to cover up the fraud with another
fraud, more brandy, together with coloring
matter, is added. It seems that the evil,
as regards port wine, originates in the fact
that the vintage of 1824 was remarkably
successful. The wine raised that year had
all the properties of excellent wine in its
utmost perfection. The inferior produce
of subsequent seasons found the fastidious
customer wholly intractable, and the ex-
porters were obliged to resort to fraud in
order to gratify the public f English J taste.
Such is the explanation of the author of
the pamphlet in question. But we think
that the practice he refers to has been for
a very long time in use in most wine grow-
ing countries.

Sherry has probably suffered less than
most wines from this kind of adulteration.
It is generally allowed to ferment sufficient-
ly, and then the properties of "age" are
communicated by mixture with older wines.
The " brown sherry" is made by mixing
the paler kind with coloring matter. Abun-
dance of brandy is added for the English
market, the Spanish merchants honestly
believinof in their hearts that they cannot
better please their British customers than

VOL. V. NO. III. NEW SERIES.

by drugging that delicate wine with spirits.
As a warning to the consumer of Falstaff's
favorite Sack, we will in conclusion of this
paper copy a paragraph from the volume
before us, although Mr. Wallis pleads
guilty to limited information in the premi-
ses:— "No Sherry exported, not even the
best, is a simple, unprepared production of
nature. It ie, all of it, the result of time,
mixture, and much doctoring. The finest
is the gi-owth of the district immediately
about Xeres, and its natural purity is only
violated by the admixture of something
better of the same sort. The oldest, rich-
est, and most generous wines, are kept and
used especially to give body, strength, and
flavor to the new ones that need them.
The inferior qualities come from the dis-
tricts along the coast. These last, good
enough in themselves and when left to
themselves, become any thing but nectar
by the time they have been manufactured
into sherry. Some of them, to be sure,
enriched by the judicious admixture of the
vino jeneroso^ become sound and respecta-
ble wines, and there is no knowing how
much of homely San Lucar, and even dry
Malaga, passes into the cellars and down
the throats of the Anglo-Saxons yearly,
with the name and at the cost of the ripest
Jerczano. But this is not the worst. Im-
mense quantities prepared especially for ex-
portation, and at cheap rates, have their
principal virtues given to them by the
liberal use of bad brandy ; and it is with
them chiefly that the sherry-drinking world
is drugged. * * * ^ wine of fine
quality, eight or ten years old, will cost at
Xeres, at least four dollars the gallon.
Those who know what our tariffs are and
have been, and who can calculate the cost
of transportation, may judge from the
range of prices with us." * * * *

From these hasty remarks it is easy to
perceive, that the American wine-drinker
pays, not only from his purse, but with his
health, for the poor privilege of being ac-
counted the possessor of a fashionable
brand. We could name from actual ex-
perience, at least twenty places in the
Mediterranean where excellent pure wine is
raised, of a flavor nearly equal to that of
Burgundy, Constance and Sherry, and in
our opinion vastly superior to that of all
the Rhenish in the universe ; and yet no
enterprising importer is fouDd to enlighten

300

Judge not lest ye he Judged,

[March,

the wine -loving comiu unity as to the exist-
ence of these cheap luxuries. The sub-
ject is one of vast importance, and we may
recur to it hereafter.

We are happy to learn that Mr. Wallis
has received a mission to visit Spain in a
diplomatic capacity. We hail the prece-

dent as a hopeful one for the literary profes-
sion in our country, whose members, though
they have had to struggle against unpara-
leled difficulties, are rapidly acquiring a
standing worthy of the cause they repre-
sent and of the great nation to which they
belong. E. L.

/*JUDGE NOT LEST YE BE JUDGED.'

We know not, and we ne'er may know
Another's joy, another's woe.
What yearning love, by pride concealed,
In deathless flame bums unrevealed ;
What seeming vice unjustly blamed.
By sternest virtue might be claimed.
We know not what temptation lures,
What strength resists, — -what faith endures ;
How jar in errors path misled ;
Or tears, how oft repentant shed.

The dreariest desert hath its spray ;
The rudest coast its peaceful bay ;
The roughest ridge some flower between ;
The wildest heath its patch of green,
Where dews may fall and sun-beams play,

And airs of heaven are free to stray.
'Mid frailty, thus, and sin, and woe,
Do buds of gentler promise grow ;
And thus, at times, an angel's wing,
May wake them to the genial spring.

Too often crushed, where man has trod,
The flower lies spoiled upon the sod ;
Too often torn by blame and scorn.
The soul-flower dies as soon as born.
Frail human heart ! And who that lives,
But owes far more than he forgives ?
Forbear thou, then, in virtue strong.
To frown on those a frown may wrong.
Alone shall God a just decree
Award to them, — to them, and tliee.

1850.]

Works of Edgar A. Poe,

301

THE WOMS OF EDGAR A. POE.*

Macaulay, in the opening paragraphs
of his essay on Lord Bacon, observes that
the moral character of men eminent in let-
ters or the fine arts is treated with tender-
ness by the world, because the world is
disposed to be charitable to the faults of
those who minister to its pleasure ; and he
proceeds to instance in his brilliant man-
ner, " Falstaff and Tom Jones have sur-
vived the game-keepers whom Shakspeare
cudgelled, and the land-ladies whom Field-
ing bilked," &c. But if it be true that
the world is most charitable to the charac-
ters of those who contribute most to its
enjoyment, then the world is certainly not
very delicate in its charity ; for could it be
ascertained, for example, that some other
damsel than Anne Hathaway occupied the
place that should have been hers during
this very Shakspeare 's long absence from
her, even the telegraph lines, that give us
the twilights of the foreign news before the
sunrise of the newspapers, would be put
in requisition to spread the scandal ; and
could a secret correspondence, arising out
of some such relation, be dug out of the
British Museum, how quickly should we
have it in cloth, in boards, in pamphlets
for two shillings, and in the columns of
extras for six-pence ! So if we con-
sider who those are who do really contribute
most to the world's enjoyment, we shall
easily conclude that they are the very ones
to whom it is least kind, either while they
are alive or after they are dead. It was
not kind to Burns ; it is not kind to any of
those who are the life of the world, " the
salt of the earth," who season and intensify

it, each by some individual vitality ; an
eye, an ear, or an inward questioning, that
must drink in beauty and must wrestle
with itself, or not live ; or else a strong
fortitude that stands like a wall against
woe and wrong, all-comprehending, all-
feeling, and all-suffering, but unmoved in
the faith of better things hereafter. The
inferior organizations which make up the
sum of being, do not so much honor these
nobler spirits as they beat against them,
like the rain, and the floods, and the wind,
against the house that was founded upon a
rock.

So far, therefore, from admitting the
universality of Macaulay's law, we look
upon it as only one of the natural super-
ficialities of an acute Scotchman. We
are too deeply steeped, to relish specula-
tion which goes no deeper than this, in the
metaphysics of Von Dencken, that most
indefatigable of Dutch philosophers, from
whom we will translate a paragraph for the
benefit of readers who may not have had
access to him.

"As in the material world, so the chemist
tells us, nothing is ever lost, though the foims
of things change ; the tree grows and decays ;
the fire separates the coal into its various
products; metals oxydize, and the water that
ascends in vapor descends in rain ; so it seems
to be in the immaterial world : of that breath
of life which was breathed into Man at the
creation, and whereby he became a ' living
soul,' not an atom has left him, though it is
ever manifesting its presence in such an infinity
of shapes. For since there is the same amount
of matter now in the world as there was at
the end of the creation, why should not ana-

*The Works of Edgar A Poe : Whh Notices of his Life and Genius. By N. P. Willis,
J. R. Lowell, and R. W. Griswold. In two volumes. New York : J. S. Redfield,
1850.

802

Works of Edgar A, Poe*

[March,

logy teach us that there is likewise the same
amount of life 1 Tha world may be more
populous now than it was in the centuries im-
mediately succeeding Adam, though the names
of the patriarchs are supposed to stand for
tribes, but even if they are for individuals,
what a developement of strength must there
have been in the antediluvian ages, when the
vigor of a single human being outlasted a pe-
riod as long as might be occupied by one who
should have been born before the first crusade
and have a century yet to live ! And in proof
that their lives were as comprehensive as ours,
we have the mountain-like ruins of their cit-
ies ; and their maxims, their poetry, and their
religion, have come down to us. They were
as wise in their generation as we are in ours.

" But in those old, pastoral days, the changes
in the combinations of spirit and matter, in
humanity, did not take place so rapidly as they
do now when the earth is so much more sub-
dued to man's uses. There is now a more
violent ebullition, and the streams of bubbles
chase each other upward, and change and
shift more rapidly. Our bodies are frailer,
and we pass through our little cycles subject
to infinitely more numerous pertrubing in-
fluences. At least, this is true just in these
few civilized families, and especially in the
new continent of America, to which the na-
tions are crowding.

" Yet, even there, the process goes on, simi-
lar to growth and decay in vegetable life, by
which nothing of the divine breath is lost, but
it only enters into new combinations, to re-ap-
pear in other forms. No man can live and
die in any contact with his species, without
all that was peculiar in him having its effect
upon, or, so to speak, combining with, his
contemporaries and successors ; and especial-
ly in those callings which bring individuals
to be known of great numbers of their fellows,
may this be observed.

" Let us," proceeds Von Dencken, " consider
the case of authors. Whoever writes a book
and publishes it, if he has ability enough to
attract readers, will be sure, in the end, to
have all that which was real truth in it, with
regard to himself, found out and duly weighed.
However different his organization may have
been from the common one ; if even all that
was easy to others was to him difficult ; how-
ever much his temper may have been exacer-
bated by cares that others could not feel, and
views they could neither see nor understand —
in the end, all that was singular in the com-
position of his spirit will be again received in-
to the ocean of existence through the rain-
drop tears of joy or grief, or the silent ab-
sorption of the soil of kindred minds. The
balance of vitality will be maintained.

" And this not through any particular leni-
ence of the world to 'the faults of genius/

for no such lenience exists. But the inquiring
soul of man will not rest, where it sees aught
peculiar, until it has ascertained the whole.
And when it sees, for instance, in a single
case, that *here was a delicate and beauti-
ful crystal of a being, which could not have
grown into any other shape but this, could
not have transmitted to us any but this sombre
light,' it will look into itself and observe its
own tendencies towards a similar destiny, and
will spontaneously endeavor to master them.
Thus, what wrought unto death in the original,
is in the next taken as a healthful assimilant.
All that the original suffered in overcoming,
is saved to the next combination, so far as
that particular element is concerned. What
a centralization of soul-vigor took place in
Homer, who could master so well the beauties
of thought, speech, and music, as to inform the
mind of so many nations, through so many
centuries ! The fire is immortal, and will
never be extinguished by diffusion. So, too,
those great English poets, whom I delight to
study, Shakspeare and Milton ; they were so
individual, and so capable to endure so much,
both of the good and evil of life, that they
have imparted strength to their whole nation,
who are never weary of inquiring and think-
ing of them, and of how the world must have
appeared to them. The real part of them, the
true vitality of their souls, not the mere bodily
power, but that by which they could endure
and overcome, knowing, and looking down
upon it from an assumed region of thought- —
this was so much more comprehensive and
powerful than the same quality in any other
writers, that they have exalted the level of
life in their whole nation. All intelligent
English spirits have some affinity with them.
" Yet, a daily life," continues the philoso-
pher, "even with gentle Will, as they termed
him, might not have been so pleasant as would
at first be thought; and, surely, one might
have selected a more agreeable domestic com-
panion than the author of Paradise Lost.
But, whatever mere infirmities of temper these
men may have had, they had them in com-
mon with thousands who could not have suf-
fered half so keenly as they, nor have lifted
a finger to conquer. Hence it is that the
world is sometimes thought to pardon too
easily the faults of such men ; when in reality
it does not so much esteem them faults as the
necessary consequences of certain organiza-
tions. Milton could not but have been pas-
sionate; but he teaches us to control passion.
Shakspeare may have been too worldly and
unsympathetic ; the danger is that he makes
us too thoughtful and generous to rise in the
world. The vigor they had, lives and is im-
mortal; their weakness has passed away
along with the weakne.ssof ten thousand other
men. They have carried many souls upward

1850.]

Works of Edgar A. Foe.

803

to elevations which those souls, by their own
powers, could never have reached, nor main-
tained— carried them there, it may be, in
thousands of cases, while they, by reason of
innate weakness, were ever falling into vices
and crimes which would have otherwise ab-
sorbed their whole being. Thus the growth
of spirit goes on in the universe, somewhat
like the Aurora Borealis, when its spires sboot
up fitfully in a long line across the arctic sky;
now and then comes one more brilliant than
its fellows, but the general sum of light is
always the same ; if we imagine an inter-
dejiendence among the rays, so that each shall
operate upon all near it in the ratio of the
strength of each, we shall have a perfect ex-
emplification of the manner in which the spir-
its of men operate upon one another, and by
which a constantly disturbed, yet never chang-
ing equilibrium of 'the breath of life' is
maintained throughout the race of mankind."

Thus for Von Dencken. We have not
quoted this illustrious philosopher here to
introduce our notice of Poe with an apol-
ogy for his faults, but to indicate the point
of view from which we design to contem-
plate him. We intend to consider him, not
as a phenomenon, as an organic human
heing ; to judge from what we read of his
writings, and are informed of his life, what
was his peculiar cast of soul; and thence
to inquire how far he, a very feeble indi-
vidual in body, certainly, and subjected to
singular accidents, played a man's part on
the stage of existence. This we shall en-
deavor to do through an estimate of his
characteristics as a writer — since it is only
as a writer, born with a peculiar spirit,
and bred and living under peculiar circum-
stances, that the world has any concern
with him. The mortal of him has re-
turned to the dust ; his imperfections,
which remain in the memories of those
who knew him, were better forgotten ;
since it aids none of us to remedy our
own short-comings, to remember those of
others after they are gone. According to
the Von Denckenian theory, it is only
with his peculium — the vital part of that
combination of spirit and matter which
erewhile walked these streets under the
style of PoE — that we have aught to do ;
for the reason that it is this part only,
this individual vitality, to use the philoso-
pher's nomenclature, which can combine
with new affinities and re-enter the general
soul of the universe — the man himself
having departed, (upward, we trust, since

he held bis face upward while here, through
much oppression and depression) but his
spiritual vigor being left to diifuse itself
among his countrymen.

In the first place, then, Poe, in all his
writings included here, appears as a pure-
minded gentleman — of a strange fancy, it
is true, but never low or mean. He al-
ways addresses his readers in a scholarly
attitude. He interests them through the
better nature ; he holds the mind's eye
with singular pictures, or draws the under-
standing into curious speculations, but in
the wildest of his extravagancies he does
not forget his native dignity. Considering
how difficult, not to say how impossible, it
would have been for him to have done this
amidst all the excitements of his feverish
life, had it not been real and natural to
him, we cannot but believe him to have
been actually and in his very heart, what
he appears in his pages.

Secondly, he seems to us to have been
originally one of the most sensitive of men,
and subject to peculiar nervous depres-
sions ; at the same time so constituted that
his normal and healthful condition was one
which required a great elevation of the
spirits. If we imagine an extremely sensi-
tive boy, full of fun and harmless mischief,
suddenly chilled into a metaphysician, but
with his early state still clinging to him, we
think we have Poe precisely. No human
beiufj; can be more ill-fitted for the strug-
gle of life than such an one. The realities
of existence overwhelm him ; what excites
others to press onward crushes him ; their
joy is his grief ; their hope his despair ; all
his emotions become so intense and intoler-
able that he cannot endure them, and wildly
endeavors to stifle feeling. Charles Lamb
was constituted very much after this man-
ner : he cried at weddings and laughed at
funerals ; but he had habits of study, the
influence of strong intellects, duty to his
sister, and, perhaps, the fear of insanity,
to restrain him.

Besides, Lamb's mind, though clear, was
anything but mathematical in its tenden-
cies ; while with Poe's, this was a marked
trait. Originally gifted with peculiar per-
ceptions of the beauty of form, and of a
disposition apt to perceive symmetrical re-
lations both in things and ideas, Poe, when
the blight came, found refuge in following
out chains of thought in harmony with the

304

Works of Edgar A. Poe.

[March,

gloom that enshroudGd him. Instead of
avoiding the shadow he would boldly walk
into it and analyze it. Hence comes his
peculiar power. No writer ever under-
stood better how to work upon the nervous
system. He must have been able, one
"would think, to master the horror of the
most awful night-mare that ever visited a
dyspeptic couch, to have faced his own
conceptions, and yet we can see often in
his tales, glimpses of the native boyish glee
that must have once been his life, and
which still lurks behind his haunted imag-
ination. And not only in his fancy, but
apparently in his whole nature did the ac-
tual press upon him so heavily that his
original youth was borne down, and he
appeared to the world as through an invert-
ing lens. The necessities from without,
arising in part from his inward constitution,

" Shook, so his single state of man, that function
Was smothered in surmise ; and nothing was,
But what was not."

He himself, in reasoning upon it, seems to
have reproached himself for it as a crime,
when it was no more a crime than the des-
pondency of Cowper. Several passages in
his tales, though they touch the individual
experience of every reader, seem to come
from him like confessions. For example :

" And then came, as if to my final and ir-
revocable overthrow, the spirit of Perverse-
NESS. Of this spirit philosophy takes no ac-
count. Yet I am not inore sure that my soul
lives, than I am that perverseness is one of the
primitive impulses of the human heart — one
of the indivisible primary faculties, or senti-
ments, which give direction to the character of
Man. Who has not, a hundred times, found
himself committing a vile or a silly action, for
no other reason than because he knows he
should not 1 Have we not a perpetual incli-
nation, in the teeth of our best judgment, to
violate that which is Law^ merely because we
understand it to be such ]"

And again, in the tale, " The Imp of the
Perverse," we have the following charac-
teristic passage :

" We have a task before us which must be
speedily performed. We know that it will be
ruinous to make delay. The most important
crisis of our life calls, trumpet-tongued, for
immediate energy and action. We glow, we
are consumed with eagerness to commence the
work, with the anticipation of whose glorious
resul, I ur whole souls are on fire. It must, it

shall be undertaken to-day, and yet we put
it oif until to-morrow ; and why "? There is no
answer, except that we feel perverse, using the
word with no comprehension of the principle.
To-mono w arrives, and with it a more impa-
tient anxiety to do our duty, but with this very
increase of anxiety arrives, also, a nameless,
a positively fearful, because unfathomable
craving for delay. This craving gathers
strength as the moments fly. The last hour
for action is at hand. We tremble with the
violence of the conflict within us, — of the
definite with the indefinite — ^of the substance
with the shadow. But. if the contest have
proceeded thus far, it is the shadow wliich pre-
vails,— we struggle in vain. The clock strikes,
and is the knell of our welfare. At the same
time, it is the chanticleer-note to the ghost
that has so long overawed us. It flies — -it dis-
appears— ^we are free. The old energy re-
turns. We will labor now. Alas, it is too
late !

"We stand upon the brink of a precipice.
We peer into the abyss — we grow sick and
dizzy. Our first impulse is to shrink from the
danger. Unaccountably we remain. By slow
degrees our sickness, and dizziness, and horror,
become merged in a cloud of unnameable feel-
ing. By gradations, still more imperceptible,
the cloud assumes shape, as did the vapor
from the bottle out of which arose the genius
in the Arabian Nights. But out of this our
cloud upon the precipice's edge, there grows
into palpability, a shape, far more terrible than
any genius, or any demon of a tale, and yet it
is but a thought, although a fearful one, and
one which chills the very marrow of our bones
with the fierceness of the delight of its horror.
It is merely the idea of what would be our
sen.sations during the sweeping precipitancy
of a fall from such a height. And this fall — -
this rushing annihilation — for the very reason
that it involves that one most ghastly and
loathsome of all the most ghastly ami loath-
some images of death and suffering which have
ever presented themselves to our imagination
— for this very cause do we now the most
vividly desire it. And because our reason
violently deters us from the brink, therefore.,
do we the more impetuously approach it.
There is no passion in nature so demoniacally
impatient, as that of him, who shuddering up-
on the edge of a precipice, thus meditates a
plunge. To indulge for a moment, in any at-
tempt at thought, is to be inevitably lost; for
reflection but urges us to forbear, and therefore
it is, I say, that we cannot. If there be no
friendly arm to check us, or if we fail in a
sudden effort to prostrate ourselves backward
from the abyss, we plunaie, and are destroyed."

There can be no doubt that this infirmi-
ty was experienced by Poe, almost as iu-
tensely as he has here represented it.

1850.]

Works of Edgar A. Poe.

305

With the superficial there is only one
name for any mental affliction which pre-
vents a man from laboring when he has ap-
parently every motive to labor, and every
necessary ability. They call it " idleness,"
and they fancy that he who is thus afflicted
is enjoying the luxury of repose, at the very
moment when he is powerless under the
torture of anxiety.

There was a true philosophy in the reply
of the lusty beggar to the farmer, who asked
him why he did not go to work — " Oh,"
said he, "if you only knew liowlazy lam P'
Ho was above conventional notions, in the
region of ultimate truth. The curse that
was laid on the ground for Adam's sake
bore so heavily on him that he could not
find sufficient resolution to strive against
it. Nevertheless, he was certainly a free
and original thinker, and the story goes,
that the farmer appreciated the sublimity
of his answer.

But Poe^ with all this depression or over-
excitement, call it what we please, bearing
upon him, inverting his original nature and
rendering him incapable of self-control,
was anything but an idle man. These tales
and poems are not the offspring of an in-
dolent brain. They are wrung from a soul
that suffered and strove ; from a fancy that
was driven out from the sunny palaces of
youth and hope, to wander in

" A wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of space — out of Time."

Even the bulk of what he has written is
considerable, as here collected, and these
are only the cream of a great mass of wri-

Estimated by its quality, however, and
compared with the productions of any of
our writers of the same age, we think that
Poe did his work as well as the best of
them. The material he wrote in was finer.
The class of readers whom he will find
most favor with, are those of delicate fan-
cies and who are subject to gloomy fore-
bodings— a more numerous class than is
often supposed, and of far more consequence
— for though the politicians, the hard, noisy,
impudent, and ambitious, do the work of
governing the earth, it is the meek and pa-
tient who inherit it.

With Poe, as with all men of genius,
there was an ever-abiding consciousness of
the presence of Death. He delighted to

look the destroyer in the face and to trick
him out in theatrical horrors. With some
there is a constant gnawing fear of the
monster, and they avert their eyes from
him, or now and then steal shuddering
glances askance ; with others there seems
to be an utter inability to realize that they
are immortal — that after a few years at
most, of inevitably decreasing capacity for
enjoyment, their souls will be in heaven or
hell, and their bodies in the grave — the
sun shining above and the throng of the
living pressing on as before. For either of
these kinds of readers, Poe's stories must
be healthy diet ; for the first, because he
goes beyond their utmost agonies of appre-
hension, and stales and tames them ; for
the second, because he frightens their con-
sciences— makes them wake and shudder,
and form good resolutions, in the still watch-
es of the night.

In several passages in his tales Poe has,
unintentionally personated himself:

" My fancy grew charnal. I talked ' of
worms, of tombs and epitaphs."

And again, in the same sketch, he takes
us into the very gates of death :

" It might be asserted without hesitation,
that no event is so terribly well adapted to in-
spire the supremeness of bodily and of mental
distress, as is burial before death. The unen-
durable oppression of the lungs — the stifling
fumes of the damp earth — the clinging to the
death garments — the rigid embrace of the nar-
row house — the blackness of the absolute
Night — the silence like a sea that overwhelms
— the unseen but palpable presence of the
Conqueror Worm — these things, with thoughts
of the air and grass above, with memory of
dear friends who would fly to save us if but
informed of our fate, and with consciousness
that of this fate they can never be informed —
that our hopeless portion is that of the really
dead— these considerations, I say, carry into
the heart which still palpitates, a degree of
appalling and intolerable horror from which
the most daring imagination must recoil."

Even where he does not deal directly
with Death, he delights to take up and draw
elaborately some one of those gloomy clouds
that roll upward from the dark abyss. This
is so well known to be his fo7-te that we
need give only one or two examples, and
those such as will also illustrate presently
a remark on his manner and style. The
opening of " The Fall of the House of

306

Works of Edgar A. Poe.

[March,

Usher," is wilder and profounder than the
introduction to Der Freyschutz :

" During the whole of a dull, dark, and sound-
less day in the autumn of the year, when the
clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens,
I had been passing along on horseback, through
a singularly dreary tract of country ; and at
length found myself as the shades of the even-
ing drew on, within view of the melancholy
House of Usher. I know not how it was-—
but, with the first glimpse of the building, a
sense of insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit.
I say, insufferable ; for the feeling was unre-
lieved by any of that half-pleasureable, be-
cause poetic, sentiment, with which the mind
usually receives even the sternest natural
images of the desolate or terrible. I looked
upon the scene before me — upon the mere
house, and the simple landscape features of the
domain ; upon the bleak walls ; upon the va-
cant eye-like windows ; upon a few rank sed-
ges ; and upon a few white trunks of decayed
trees ; with an utter depression of soul which
I can compare to no earthly sensation more
properly than to the after-dream of the revel-
ler upon opium ; the bitter lapse into every-
day life ; the hideous dropping off the veil.
There was an iciness, a sinking, a sickening
of the heart; an unredeemed dreariness of
thought which no goading of the imagination
could torture into aught of the sublime. What
was it ; I paused to think ; what was it that so
unnerved me in the contemplation of the House
of Usher 1 It was a mystery all insoluble ;
nor could I grapple with the shadowy fancies
that crowded upon me as 1 pondered. I was
forced to fall back upon the unsatisfactory
conclusion, that while, beyond doubt, there
are combinations of very simple natural objects
which have the power of thus affecting us, still
the analysis of this power lies among consid-
erations beyond our depth. It was possble, I
reflected, that a mere different arrangement of
the particulars of the scene, of the details of
the picture, would be sufficient to modify, or
perhaps to annihilate its capacity for sorrow-
ful impression ; and acting upon this idea I
reined my horse to the precipitous brink of a
black and lurid tarn thatlay in unruffled lustre
by the dwelling, and gazed down-but with a
shudder even more thrilling than before — upon
the remodelled and inverted images of the gray
sedge, and the ghastly tree-stems, and the va-
cant and eye-like windows."

What a Salvator Rosa-like landscape is
that which occurs in the course of " The
Gold Bug :"

" We crossed the creek at-the head of the is-
land by means of a skiff, and, ascending the
high grounds on the shore of the main land,
proceeded in a northwesterly direction, through

a tract of country excessively wild and deso-
late, where no trace of a human footstep was
to be seen. Legrand led the way with decis-
ion; pausing only for an instant, here and there
to consult what appeared to be certain land-
marks of his own contrivance upon a former
occasion.

In this manner we journeyed for about two
hours, and the sun was just setting when we
entered a region infinitely more dreary than any
yet seen. It was a species of table land, near
the summit of an almost inaccessible hill,
densely wooded from base to pinnacle, and
interspersed with huge crags that appeared to
lie loosely upon the soil, and in many cases
were prevented from precipitating themselves
into the valleys below, merely by the support
of the trees against which they reclined. Deep
ravines in various directions, gave an air of
still sterner solemnity to the scene."

And in the " M.S. found in a bottle,"
we have a sea view from an ocean that had
not been visited before, since the voyage
of the Ancient Mariner :

" Our course for the first four days was,
with trifling variations, S. E. and by S. ; and
we must have run down the coast of New
Holland. On the fifth day the cold became
extreme, although the wind had hauled round
a point more to the northward. The sun arose
with a sickly yellow lustre, and clambered a
very few degrees above the horizon, emitting
no decisive light. There were no clouds ap-
parent, yet the wind was upon the increase,
and blew with a fitful and unsteady fury.
About noon, as nearly as we could guess, our
attention was again arrested by the appear-
ance of the sun. It gave out no light, proper-
ly so called, but a dull and sullen glow with-
out reflection, as if all its rays were polarized.
Just before sinking within the turgid sea, its
central fires suddenly went out, as if hurriedly
extinguished b}"^ some unaccountable power.
It was a dim, silver like rim alone, as_ it rush-
ed down the unfathomable ocean."

It is good to remain as child-like in our
perceptions and affections as we can. Child-
dren are the most catholic of readers : only
interest them and nothing comes amiss.
One who can, like them, pass from the live-
ly dialogue of Dumas, to these pictures of
concentrated mysterious apprehension, and
find amusement in both, wUlbe likely never
to die of ennui.

Many of these tales, if nofall, were hast-
ily written, and, they are therefore often
fragmentary and imperfect. Sometimes
the plot is too obvious and the secret is out
too soon ; in others, the particular horror is

1850.]

WorJcs of Edgar A. Poe.

807

too horrible to be contemplated, however
artistically it might be veiled. But in all,
wherever Poe gives his dreaming fancy any
play, it never fails to paint vividly. Take
its pictures altogether, and they belong to
a new school of grotesque diablerie. They
are oritjinal in their a;loom, their occasion-
al humor, their peculiar picturesqueness,
their style, and their construction and ma-
chinery. Of their gloom we have just
spoken.

The balloon of Hans Pfaall, seen by the
citizens of Rotterdam, and made of dirty
new^spapers, is a touch of Poe's original
playfulness. So also the negro in the
" Gold Bug ;"the " Balloon Hoax," is the
work of a born quiz ; " Some words with a
Mummy," " Hop Frog," " Bon Bon,"
" The Devil in the Belfrey," " Lionizing,"
and many more, show how full he naturally
was of boyish feeling. They are mere trifles
to please children ; but then he was a child
who wrote them — he never got over being
a child.

The fate of Mr. Toby Dammit, in the
sketch " Never betthe Devil your Head,"
is an awful warning — one which even now
it is impossible to contemplate without
emotion. He bet the Devil his head that
he could leap over a certain stUe ; it hap-
pened that above the stile was a thin fiat
bar of iron, which he did not perceive, and
which shaved his head clean oflP. Our author
gives the conclusion :

" He did not long survive his terrible loss.
The homoeopathists did not give him little
enough physic, and what little they did give him
he hesitated to take. So in the end he grew
worse, and at length died, a les,son to all riot-
ous livers. I bedewed his grave with my
tears, worked a bar sinister on his family es-
cutcheon, and for the general expenses of his
funeral, sent in my very moderate bill to the
transcendentalists. The scoundrels refused to
pay it, so I had Mr. Dammit dug up at once,
and sold him for dog's meat."

What a bold comparison we have in
"The Due de L'Omelette," where the
hero is taken by Baal-Zebub into the en-
chanted chamber.

"It was not its length nor its breadth, but
its height ; oh, that was appalling ! There
was no ceiling, certainly none ; but a dense
whirling mass of fiery colored clouds. His
Grace's brain reeled as he glanced upwards.
From above hung a chain of an unknown

blood-red metal, its upper end lost, like the city
of Boston, parmi les nues.^^

In the " Rationale of Verse," a not very
clear essay, but one abounding in acute sug-
gestion, we have plenty of examples of a
like pleasant sarcasm. Indeed, throughout
these writings there is enough to show that
their author, as is generally true of such
spirits, was no less sensitive to the laugh-
able than to the horrible. Indeed, had life
gone happily with him, it is possible he
might have been only known as one of the
gay spirits of fashionable society.

With respect to Poe's style, the ex-
tracts above given from " The Gold Bug,"
" the M.S. found in a bottle," &c., exhibit
his affluence of musical variety in expres-
sion, and command of words.

One more extract we must give, not only
for its eloquence, but in illustration of our
theory, that Poe was one originally so sen-
sitive, the first breath of the world wither-
ed him ; so that he was benumbed, and fan-
cied he had outlived his heart :

" She whom I loved in youth, and of whom
I now pen calmly and distinctly these remem-
brances, was the sole daughter of the only
sister of my mother long departed. Eleonora
was the name of my cousin. We had always
dwelled together, beneath a tropical sun, in the
Valley of the Many-Colored Grass. No un-
guided footstep ever came upon that vale : for
it lay far away up among a range of giant
hills that hung beetling around about it, shut-
ting out the sunlight from its sweetest recess-
es. No path was trodden in its vicinity ; and
to reach our happy home, there was need of
putting back with force, the foliage of many
thousands of forest trees, and of crushing to
death the glories of many millions of fragrant
flowers. Thus it was that we lived all alone,
knowing nothing of the world without the
valley, — I, and my cousin, and her mother.

" From the dim regions beyond the mountains
at the upper end of our encircled domain, there
crept out a narrow and deep river, brighter
than all save the eyes of Eleonora ; and wind-
ing stealthily about in mazy courses, it passed
away at length, through a shadowy gorge,
among hills still dimmer than those whence it
had issued. We called it the " River of Si-
lence ; for there seemed to be a hushing in-
fluence in its flow. No murmur arose from
its bed, and so gently it wandered along, that
the pearly pebbles upon which we loved to
gaze, far down within its bosom, stirred not at
all, but lay in a motionless content, each in
its own old station, shining on gloriously for-
ever.

308

WorJcs of Edgar A. Poe.

[March,

" The margin of the river, and of the many
dazzling rivulets that glided through devious
ways into its channel, as well as the spaces
that extended from the margins away down into
the depths of the streams, until they reached the
bed of pebbles at the bottom, — these spots,
not less than the whole surface of the valley,
from the river to the mountains that girdled it
in, were carpeted all by a soft green grass,
thick, short, perfectly even, and vanilla-per-
fumed, but so besprinkled throughout with
the yellow buttercup, the white daisy, the
purple violet, and the ruby-red asphodel, that
its exceeding beauty spoke to our hearts in
loud tones, of the love and of the glory of
God."

Poor Poe ! It was a sad day for him
when he was forced from dreams like these
into the real world, where there are so
many " far wiser" than he. No wonder
he sometimes lost heart and temper, and
soon died !

We have observed that Poe is original,
not only in his gloom, his humor, and so
forth, but also in the construction of his
tales. Indeed, it is for this he has been
most found fault with. It is said he wrote
his things " on a plan." It is not denied
that he contrives to get up an interest ;
but it is objected that he does it systemati-
cally, foreseeing the end from the begin-
ning, laying out his work, and deliberately
going through it.

But is not this really an argmnent in
his favor .? The painter composes " on a
plan ;" he touches not his canvas till his
whole design is sketched, or laid out per-
fectly, in his mind ; he 7nust do so. Still
more is this true (though we are aware it
is not generally thought so) with the musi-
cal composer ; everything is so calculated
beforehand, the composition may be said to
exist in his mind, exactly in reverse order ;
in the freest style, the climax is the first
thing conceived, and to which the rest is
adjusted. And in writing plays, must not
the plot be first established, and then elabo-
rated ? Does any one suppose that Shaks-
peare did not foreknow the action of Hamlet,
when he sat himself to write it .' or that
he improvised Macbeth .'' or that he could
elaborate that singular texture of plots, the
Midsmnmer Night's Dream, by the Dumas
process of accretion ? Surely those who
think so cannot understand any, the
simplest work of art, in its entirety. For
a work of art is not a heap of things built

up, and to which more may be joined ; it
is, like the French Republic, "one and
indivisible." If you take away aught
from it, it is incomplete ; if you add, you
put on whet does not belong to it. Even
so simple a work of art as a house, must
be built " on a plan," or it wUl be only a
conglomeration of rooms ; and whenever it
is completed, whatever is added is very
properly styled an " addition." The pen
in our hand, we could not have made
it without definite design. Why should
we not have tales constructed on such plots
as it will best excite a continued interest to
unravel ?

Why — because the present day seems to
abound in little writers, who make much
noise, but whose minds have no strength,
no connection of ideas ; no dependence of
thought upon thought ; nothing that en-
chains the reader, and goes on developing,
from sentence to sentence, paragraph to
paragraph, and page to page. We have
many among us of this stamp, whom it is
impossible to read without confusion. Of
course all such are the natural foes of or-
der, prolonged interest, and grand emotion.
They wish to go from thing to thing ; to
feel only themselves ; to smatter, and dog-
matize, and talk — talk — talk. O, how
weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable is all
they have to utter !

Again ; it has been objected to Poe's
stories and poems, that they are abstract,
unlike anything in real life, out of all ex-
perience, and touching no human sympa-
thy. As to the abstractness and remote-
ness from experience, if these be faults,
God help the wicked ! for the author of
Paradise Lost is surely damned ; but as to
their coldness and incapacity to touch
human sympathy, that we utterly deny.
We are unable to perceive, fiom these
harmless little sketches and verses, a rea-
son for all that has been said of Poe's cold-
heartedness, " cynicism," want of moral
sense, and so on. It must be admitted,
however, that if the friendship manifested
in these biographical prefixes was the
warmest he could inspire, he was certainly
one of the most unfortunate men that ever
lived. But to judge him purely as he ap-
pears in his own wi iting, we do not see but
that he had as much " heart" as other men
— as much, at least, as other literary men
who have resided as long as he did in this

1850.]

Works of Edgar A. Poe.

809

''commercial metropolis." To be sure, his
disposing of the remains of his friend Mr.
Toby Dammit in the manner he did, after
the transcendontalists refused to bear the ex-
penses of that gentleman's funeral, was
out of the common way ; but who ever
heard Dr. Southwood Smith accused of
inhumanity for dissecting his friend Jeremy
Bentham 'a

All these objections and accusations ap-
pear to us to have arisen from two sources ;
first, his success in gaining, at once, what
so many would give their eyes for, viz. : a
reputation ; and, secondly, his frankness,
or want of self-respect. This leads us to
speak of his poetry, and of what he has re-
lated respecting his mode of writing it.

Coleridge, speaking of some of his own
poems, observes : " In this idea originated
the plan of the ' Lyrical ballads ;' in which
it was agreed that my endeavors should be
directed to persons and characters super-
natural, or, at least, romantic ; yet so as
to transfer from our inward nature a human
interest, and a semblance of truth, suffici-
ent to procure for these shadows of imagin-
ation that willing suspension of disbelief for
the moment, which constitutes poetic

faith." " With this view I wrote the

' Ancient Mariner,' and was preparing,
among other poems, the ' Dark Ladie,'
and the ' Christobel,' in which I should
have more nearly realized my ideal, than I
had done in my first attempt."

From this extract we learn that even
that most fanciful of modern poems, the
'' Ancient Mariner," was written in con-
formity with a specific purpose, if not " on
a plan." Doubtless, also, had it served
its author's purpose to enlighten us con-
cerning the manner of his composition, he
could have done so ; for, the existence of
a desio;n argues forethought in execution.
How certain words, rhymes, and similes
came into his mind, he could not have
told ; but why he chose that peculiar metre,
or, at least, that he chose a metre, he could
have told, and also many other incidents
of the poem's composition.

Poe has done this with regard to " The
Raven ;" a much shorter piece, and one
admitting a more regular ingenuity of con-
struction— but still a poem full of singular
beauty. His opening remarks in this ana-
lysis show the perfect frankness, or indiffer-

ence with which he sets to work to dispel
his own conjurations :

" I have often thought how interesting; a
magazine paper might be written by any author
who would— that is to say, who could— detail,
step by step, llie processes by which any one
of his compositions attained its ultimate point
of completion. Why such a paper has never
been given to the worhi, I am much at a loss
to say— but, perhaps, the»autorial vanity has
had more to do witii the omission than any one
other cause. Most writers— poets in especial
—prefer having it understood that they com-
pose by a species of fine frenzy — an ecstatic
intuition — and would positively shudder at
letting the public take a peep behind the
scenes, at the elaborate and vacillating crudi-
ties of thought — at the true purj)oses seized
only at the last moment — at the innumerable
glimpses of idea that arrived not at the matu-
rity of full view— at the fully matured fan-
cies discarded in despair as unmanageable —
at the cautious selections and rejections — at
the painful erasures and interpolations — in a
word, at the wheels and pinions — the tackle
for scene-shifting— the step-ladders and de-
mon-traps—the cock's feathers, the red paint
and the black patches, which, in ninety-nine
cases out of the hundred, constitute the pro-
perties of the literary histrio.''''

In what follows, wherein he goes minute-
ly into his process of composition, though,
in general, true, he was probably misled by
the character of his mind, his love of spec-
ulation, his impatience of littleness, the
" perverseness" we have claimed for him,
and a secret delight in mystifying the fool-
ish— to make it appear that he wrote the
whole poem, as he would have demon-
strated a problem, and without experien-
cing any state or phase of elevated feeling.
The poem itself is so sufficient an evidence
to the contrary, and Poe, in his explana-
tion, in its mode of construction, " The Phi-
losophy of Composition," has carried his
analysis to such an absurd minuteness, that
it is a little suprising there should be any
verdant enough not to perceive he was
" chaffing." He was enough a boy in his
feelings to take delight in quizzing. What
are most of his stories, but harmless hoax-
es ? Horrible faces grin at us in them out
of the darkness ; but at the end couies the
author, shews them to be nothing but
pumpkin lanterns, and cries "sold!" in
our faces.

Probably there is not, in all poetry or
prose, an instance where language is made

310

Works of Edgar A. Poe.

[March,

to present a more vivid picture to the fancy
than in this poem. The mysterious intro-
duction, the " tapping," the appearance of
the Raven, and all his doings and sayings,
are so perfectly in character^ (we were
once, many years ago, the " unhappy mas-
ter" of one of these birds, who, it was
evident, were in league with the devil,)
that we seem actually to see hun :

" Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a

flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days

of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he ; not a minute

stopped or stayed he ;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my

chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my

chamber door —

Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

" Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into
smiling.

By the grave and stem decorum of the counte-
nance it wore,

' Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I
said, ' art sure no craven,

Ghastiy grim and ancient Raven wandering from
the Nightly shore —

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's
Plutonian shore !'

Quoth the Raven, ' Nevermore.' "

Perhaps Poe would tell us that, in wri-
ting these stanzas, having determined, upon
good reasons, to introduce the Raven in
some fantastic manner, he then considered
what motions a bird of that species would
be likely to make, and finally concluded to
choose the most natural, as being the most
fantastic ; and thus, at length, after look-
ing his dictionary, pitched upon the word
" flirt," which Johnson defines to mean
" a quick, elastic motion," as most suited
to his purpose ; then, finally, connected
with it "flutter," not so much to add to
the meaning, as for the convenience of
the rhyme with " shutter." And for such
harmless " philosophy of composition" as
this, he must be set down for a man of no
heart !

To our apprehension, it is quite impossi-
ble that most of the words and phrases in
these two stanzas could have been chosen
in any other than an elevated state of feel-
ing— a condition when

" The poet's eye in a fine frenzy rolling.
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to
heaven.

And, as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name."

The " stately/ Raven," coming in with
"many a flirt and flutter ;" the " saintly
days of yore" — what days .'' where .'' when ?;
the " obeisance," " mein of lord or lady,"
how picturesque ! And in the second
stanza every line is the offspring of the
highest power of poetic vision ; " grave
and stern decorum," and

" Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from

the Nightly shore,
Tell 7ne what thy lordly name is on the Night's

Plutonian shore !"

— where is this " Nightly shore," which
we recognize as familiar, like the scenery
of a dream that we never saw before .''
We seem to have heard of it and to know
of it, and yet it is a perfectly new region.
There is an indescribable power in the
sound of these words, as also in the march
of the lines which precede it. As the
product of a pure vividness of fancy, and
a sustained intense feeling, they are as
remarkable as any similar passages in our
poetic literature.

The natural expression of intense or
elevated feeling is music. Hence in all
poetry which has this characteristic, (and
all poetry has it in greater or less degree,)
language is used with a power independent
of its meaning to the understanding. The
musical expression strives to predominate ;
and it is so ardent that it can even color
with its fiery glow the cold and unmelo-
dious sounds of articulate speech ; under
its influence the syllables of words fall into
rythmic forms, and the mere confined
range of the vowel sounds and the ordinary
inflections of sentences, become a chant.

In Shakspeare, the understanding was
so alert that it rarely yields to the feeling,
without evidence of a mighty conflict ; gen-
erally the result is rather a thought-exciting
struggle than a triumphant victory. Per-
haps there is no instance in his blank verse,
where the musical expression so entirely
overpowei's the other, that words have a
sense entirely independent of their mean-
ing. But then how beautifully both effects
are sometimes blended : —

" The murmuring surge.
That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes,
Cannot be heard so high."

1850.]

Works of Edgar A. Foe.

311

Or,

" let the brow overwhelm it,
As fearfully as doth a galled rock,
O'erhand and jutty his confounded base,
Swilled with the wild and wasteful ocean."

Or, perhaps the finest instance is from the
chorus before King Henry's speech :

" Suppose that you have seen
The well-appointed King at flampton Pier
Embark his royalty ; and his brave fleet
With silken streamers the young Phcebus fanning.
Play with your fancies ; and in them behold,
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing:
Hear the shrill whistle which doth order give
To sounds confused : behold the threaden sails,
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind.
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea.
Breasting the lofty surge. O do but think.
You stand upon the rivage, and behold

A city ON THE INCONSTANT BILLOWS DANCING !"

It is only in his ballads, however, where he
abandons himself more entirely to the emo-
tion, that the musical element so predom-
inates as to render its eflfect the primary
one. Perhaps the dirge in Cymbeline,

"Fear no more the heat o' the sun, &c."

the serenade in the same play ;

" Hark ! hark ! the lark at heaven's gate sings,"

and the ballad in " Love's Labor Lost,"

" When daisies pied and violets blue,"

are the readiest examples.

But even here, though the primary ef-
fect of the words is a musical one, that is,
one arising from their sound, in that we
read them and feel their expression, while
our idea of their meaning is indistinct ;
yet when we come to examine them, we
find that they have more than an indistinct
meaning — a perfectly plain one — so plain
that we wonder it does not strike us at
first, (though, familiar as they are, it never
does).

But in Milton, and sometimes in others,
we have examples where not only the prima-
ry, but i\vQ sole effect of the words is musical,
the meaning being indistinct. He had a
meaning, but xce enjoy the eficct, so far as it
is purely poetic, without understanding what
is said, and entirely through the sound of
of the words. Thus his mere catalogues
of names, of which we understand nothing
definite, alfect us poetically. For exam-
ple, the passage in Lycidas : —

" Or whether thou to our moist vows deny'd,
Sleeps't by the fable of Bellerus old.

Where the great vision of the guarded mount,
Looks towards Namancos and Bayona's hold ;"

How few who have felt the sense of gran-
deur, vastness, and antiquity here express-
ed, understand " the fable of Bellerus," or
have a place for Namancos and "Bayona's
hold," in their geography } And again : —

" As when far off at sea a fleet descry'd.
Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds.
Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles
01 Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring
Their spicy drugs."

We have a distinct recollection what a
thrill of pleasure it gave to learn long ago
at school, where those islands really were ;
before that it had been sufficient for their
poetic effect to know that they were islands j
now, of course, we enjoy in addition to the
poetry, the pride of knowledge. But pas-
sages in illustration of the musical effect
are in Milton without number. Indeed,,
the whole poem, it is possible to conceive,,
mi^ht be enjoyed by that order of minds,
which have only elevated feelings, without
clear ideas.

When the gryphon pursues the Arimas-
pian, few stop to mquire what a gryphoni
is, who is an Arimaspian, and what pursuit
is alluded to ; so far as the idea is con.-
cerned, it might as well read for "gryphon,"
tomson^ and for "Arimaspian," Poliop^
kian.

" And all who since, baptized or infidel,.
Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban,
Damasco, or Morocco, or Trebisond,.
Or whom Biserta sent from Afrie's shore-.
When Charlemain, with all his peerage, fell
By Fontarabia."

So not only in these sublime cadences, but
in the common expression of the whole
poem, the musical so overpowers the logi-
cal, that it is possible to feel and relish the
qualities of the poetry, with only an mdis-
tinct notion of the meaning. Thus, in the
comparison of the swarm of locusts " warp-
ing on the wind," the word has so lost
its old significance that the meaning is not
plain, yet the sound and rythm of the lines
do all but create. So in descriptions of
architecture, " golden architrave," and

" Cornice or frieze, with bossy sculiptures graven,"

few boys, of the many who (it is to be
hoped,) early learn to love Milton, are so
weU up in their architeijture as to know

312

Works of Edgar A. Poe.

[March,

the meaning of these technical words — the
sole effect to them is through an indistinct
idea of the meaning, just enough to hold
the mind interested, joined with a rich
flow of language whose words and cadences
had their birth in the musical element —
that very heaven of the fancy, the region
of pure RAPTURE, which lies above the
plain of things, and whict >[usic alone can
reach.

We might multiply infe.ances out of the
poets, from Chaucer and Spenser, who
abound in them, down to the best of our
own time and country. Marvell, per-
chance, caught the lyric power from him
whom he called friend ; Collins was a
sweet sino-er ; Gray called the Eolian lyre
to awake, and under his hand it did awake.
Nearer us we have Campbell, Wordsworth,
and one of the greatest natural masters of
musical effect, if Scotchmen tell us truly.
Burns ; the power of his broad Scotch can-
not be properly estimated by any but his
countrymen ; but there is one little change
of a word in Tarn O'Shanter which shows
the genius : —

" Or, like the rainbow's lovely form,
Evanishing amid the storm."

Who could have taught him to use that
almost obsolete word with such power r
For it really sets the whole line quivering
like a flash of lightning.

Coleridge's Kubla Khan is the first in-
stance, that we are aware of, in which an
attempt is made by an assumed, yet not
unnatural, indistinctness of meaning, to
portray a phase of feeling too subtle and
evanescent to be touched with definites.
About his time, the same thing was done
by Beethoven in music ; among his trifles,
" bao-atcllcs," as they are rightly named,
for the piano, are some which begin sanely
and run off into actual wildness •, in his
last symphony, and in some of his posthu-
mous works, he is thought to have ven-
tured too far unintentionally. In painting,
too, the notion of aiming at only a single
effect has arisen, and is a favorite one with
a numerous class of artists. And in litera-
ture, we have, at last, Poe, who writes
poems that move us deeply, but in which
the meaning is only hinted at, and even
that sometimes so obscurely that it is im-
possible to find out an unbroken connection ;
but there is always an evident design and an

extrernely artistic construction. And to
counterbalance him, we have, as before ob-
served, writers, and their name is legion,
whose minds appear to have lost the power
of sequent thought, whose writing is bald,
unjointed, without form, and void.

Between all such as these (a portion of
whom even declined, as we have seen, to
reimburse him for the funeral expenses of
his friend Mr. D.,) and Poe, there was,
necessarily, a wide gulf. Poe's mind,
though it would have to do with only the
fragilest ideas, and though ever grasping,
and never comprehensive, yet worked
beautifully within its range, while it re-
mained unbroken. When he chose, there
is no writer who ever had a more perfect
command of his native style, or could pur-
sue a flight of subtle thoughts more closely
and rapidly. The minuteness of his de-
scription never wearies. His taste, also,
was like the tunica conjunctiva of the eye,
sensitive to the least motes ; we never know,
in the " Gold Bug," whether the scarabcus
is a supernatural insect or only a mechani-
cal contrivance ; we never know who sent
the Raven from "the Night''s Plutonian
Shore!" it would have been less mysteri-
ous in either case if we had been told. In
some of his later things we see where his
physical strength was failing him, and his
mental power getting enfeebled through
" too much conceiving ;" we see it, as wo
can see it, in a greater or less degree, in
the working of all minds which are or have
been overwrought. But even in these
things — even in Eureka — to read is like
wandering through the ruins of a fair city
that has been pillaged by barbarians ; there
are sacred things wantonly mutilated,
beautiful images broken and scattered, and
yet still enough left to show the original
structure.

What rank Poe is to take in the catalogue
of our poets. Time will assign him, in the
face of aU that might be urged by the most
sagacious reviewer. But as Time never
tells his secrets till they are found out, we
may be excused for offering an opinion.

That Poe will long be considered, as he
is now, a poet of singular genius, there can
be no question. What he attempted, had
never been attempted before ; and he suc-
ceeded in it. He wrote poems addressed
to the feelings, wherein the meaning is
designedly vague and subordinate. As

1850.]

Works of Edgar A. Poe.

313

long as our language retains its present
shape and inflection, we think the musical
eifects of these poems will be felt and ac-
knowled2;ed. But when the next chancre
comes over it — and that might be very
soon, by the sudden uprising of a great
poet, with a new song in his mouth, — they
will be forgotten. For they have no power
to stay change. Their indistinctness does
not arise, like the indistinctness of Milton
and Shakspeare, from the reader's igno-
rance, and hence there is nothing in them
to keep them forever in the world's eye ;
no learning, nor any powerful burden of
true philosophy to overawe the majority
who have no perception of poetic beauty.
Hence, also, though Poe succeeded, mar-
vellously succeeded, yet we cannot find it
in our heart to wish what he accomplished
ever to be undertaken again. We would
prefer to keep the old lines distinct; to
have neither poetry or music, the brother
or the sister, infringe upon each other's
domain. The mind is never permanently
satisfied with single efi"ects ; when the first
glow has passed, we look deeper, and if
there is no fuel the fire goes down. Hence,
also, again, though we now feel the excel-
lence of Poe so strongly, it is with a sort of
misgiving that we may outgrow or become
indifferent to him hereafter.

We will quote one or two of his pieces,
which may be new to our readers, to illus-
trate an observation upon some of his pe-
culiarities of construction. The following
has much of the form and effect of a wild
rondo in music : —

" DREAM-LAND.

By a route obscure and lonely.

Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an ultimate dim Thule —
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,

Out of Space — out of Time.

Bottomless vales and boundless floods.
And chasms, and caves, and Titan woods.
With forms that no man can discover
For the dews that drip all over ;
Mountains toppling evermore
Into seas without a shore ;
Seas that restlessly aspire.
Surging, unto skies of fire ;
Lakes that endlessly outspread
Their lone waters — lone and dead, —
Their still waters — still and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily.

By the lakes that thus outspread
Their lone waters, lone and dead, —
Their sad waters, sad and chilly
With the snows of the lolling lily, —
By the mountains — near the river
Murmuring lowly, murmuring ever, —
By the grey woods, — by the swamp
Where the toad and the newt encamp, —
By the dismal tarns and pools

Where dwell the Ghouls, —
By each spot the most unholy —
In each nook most melancholy, —
There the traveller meets aghast
Sheeted Memoirs of the Past —
Shrouded forms that start and sigh
As they pass the wanderer by —
White-robed forms of friends long given.
In agony, to the Earth — and Heaven.

For the heart whose woes are legion

'Tis a peaceful, soothing region —

For the spirit that walks in shadow

'Tis — oh 'tis an Eldorado !

But the traveller, travelling through it.

May not — dare not openly view it ;

Never its mysteries are exposed

To the weak human eye unclosed; . i

So wills its King, who hath forbid

The uplifting of the fringed lid ; ■ • i

And thus the sad Soul that here passes

Beholds it but through darkened glasses.

By a route obscure and lonely, . .
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named Night,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have wandered home but newly
From this ultimate dim Thule."

The repetition with which the third stanza,
or strophe, commences, "By the lakes that
thus outspread," &c., is one of Poe's ob-
vious peculiarities. It occurs in every
stanza of the Raven, &c.

" Eagerly I wished the morrow ; — vainly I had
sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for
the lost Lenore —

For the rare and radiant maiden ivhom the an-
gels name Lenore."

The same repetition makes " Ululume"
nearly twice as long as it would be without
it:—

" The skies they were ashen and sober ;
The leaves they were crisped and sere :
The leaves they were withering and sere."

We observe it also in " The Bells," "An-
nabel Lee," " Eulalie," and other pieces
— indeed, indications of a tendency to a
similar form may be traced in his prose.

This form was natural to Mr. Poe be-
cause it is the natural expression of intense

314

Works of Edgar A. Foe.

[March,

feeling. A fine example of it is suggested
by Wordsworth from the song of Deborah,
" At her feet he howed^ he fell^ he lay
down; atherfeethehoiued^hefell; where
he howed^ there he fell down dead.''''

There is some reason for supposing that
this form is peculiarly suited to the melody
of our language. For it is so uniform a
peculiarity of all ancient English tunes to
commence the second strain with a repeti-
tion of the last phrase of the first, that they
may be as readily distinguished by it as
Scottish or Irish tunes by their character-
istics. The tune of Chevy Chase (always
sun"-, or rather murdered, by the grave-
digger in Hamlet) has this form ; another,
the words of which begin, " When I was
bound apprentice in famous Linconshire,"
&c., is perhaps a more familiar instance.*
The third stanza of Dream-Land is but an
imitation in language of a new strain in
melody.

Where this repetition is at shorter inter-
vals, and with variations, as in Ululume
passim., it bears a curious analogy to the
structure of the phrases in very many of
Beethoven's melodies. One little point is
taken up, repeated, augmented, varied, and
so beaten upon the brain with the force of
the most intense passion. We think of no
instance likely to be known to the general
reader ; the opening to the andante of the
first symphony may be remembered by
some.

But, indeed, this repetition, growing out
of " imitation," runs through all music, and
is at once the symmetry of its movement and
the life of its expression. Poe has a singu-
lar paragraph upon music which is worth
quoting in this connection : —

" The perception of pleasure in the equali-
ty of sounds is the principle of Music. Un-
practised ears can appreciate only simple
equalities, such as are found in ballad airs.
While comparing one simple sound with an-
other they are too much occupied to be capa-
ble of comparing the equality subsisting be-
tween these two simple sounds, taken con-
jointly, and two other similar simple sounds
taken conjointly. Practised ears, on the other
hand, appreciate both equalities at the same
instant— a hhough it is absurd to suppose that
both are heard at the same instant. One is
heard and appreciated from itself : the other is
heard by the memory; and the instant glides
into and is confounded with the secondary

* In this the fecond strain only reverses the
phrases of the 1 i;t j thus: 1, 2, — 2, 1.

appreciation. Highly cultivated musical
taste in this manner enjoys not only these
double equalities, all appreciated at once, but
takes pleasurable cognizance, through memo-
ry, of equalities the members of which occur
at intervals so great that the uncultivated
taste loses them altogether."

It would appear from this, that Poe had
very acute perceptions of the relations in
sound arising from consecution, but not of
those growing out of consentaneousness ;
he could analyze the drawing, but not the
color.

This is the secret of bis peculiarities of
style and construction. But beyond and
above all this there was a soul of poetry in
him. As we glance over these volumes to
satisfy ourself that we have said all we in-
tended, (for even this article, gentle reader,
is constructed "on a plan,") there are two
short things which it would be unjust not
to quote. The first is less peculiar in
structure than most of his pieces, but it is
full of exquisite fancy : —

" THE HAUNTED PALACE.

In the greenest of our valleys

By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace —

Radiant palace — reared its head.
In the monarch Thought's dominion —

It stood here !
Never seraph spread a pinion

Over fabric half so fair !

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,

On its roof did float and flow,
(This — all this — was in the olden

Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied,

In that sweet day.
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

A wnged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley.

Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically.

To a lute's well-tuned law.
Round about a throne where, sitting

(Porphyrogene !)
In state his glory well befitting,

The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing

Was the fair palace door,
Thro' which came flowing, flowing, flo■w^ng,

And sparkling evermore,
A troop of echoes, whose sweet duty

Was but to sing.
In voices of surpassing beauty.

The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things in robes of sorrow.
Assailed the monarch's high estate,

(Ah, let us mourn ! — for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate !)

1850.1

Works of Edgar A. Poe.

815

And round about his home the glory

That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim remembered story

Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,

Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically

To a discordant melody.
While, like a ghastly rapid river,

Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out forever

And laugh — but smile no more."

As we write these lines a review of Poe
lies before us, which, we were pained to see,
and in which the writer says he has been
led to beUeve Poe " mainly destitute of
moral and religious principle," and " cer-
tain it is that the most careful student of
his works will search in them vainly for
elevated and generous sentiment." We
cannot see any reason in these volumes for
so harsh an opinion ; and we feel very sure
the world will not, either. As to senti-
ment, it was not Poe's province to deal in
sentiment ; but surely he could give ex-
pression to elevated emotion. As to his

morality, we see not but that he writes like
a gentleman ; (always excepting what he
relates of his conduct to the remains of his
friend Mr. D. ;) he did not undertake to
write sermons. His poetry and prose are
full of pin-e beauties ; he could paint " rare
and radiant maidens," and express those
affections for such which only gentle hearts
can feel. Nay, one need not be of the
Roman faith to feel a loftier aspiration in
the followins;

At morn — at noon — at twilight dim-
Maria ! thou hast heard my hymn !
In joy and woe — in good and ill —
Mother of God, be with me still !
When the hours flew lightly by,
And not a cloud obscured the sky.
My soul, leat it should truant be,
Thy grace did guide to thine and thee ;
Now, when storms of Fate o'orcast
Darkly my Present and my Past,
Let my Future radiant shine
With sweet hopes of thee and thine !"

Feb. 11, 1850.

G. W. P.

VOL .V. NO. III. NEW SERIES.

816

Congressional Summarij.

[March,

CONGRESSIONAL SUMMARY.

The interests of the State are becoming daily-
more involved in the great subject of Slavery.
Prominent political questions that have served
hitherto to distinguish parties, seem to have
lost all their vitality, and are either not heard
of at all, or are merely introduced as affairs of
form, and are then postponed to some future
season of leisure and tranquillity. In truth,
the old party lines, that were marked out by
economical principles, have, to a great extent,
been erased, and a new line, one of the most
dangerous that could possibly be formed, is
taking their place. The country has been ac-
customed to see men divided on points of gen-
eral legislation ; now they are separating on
geographical boundaries. The Slave States
are organizing a iirm, united, compact oppo-
sition to the Free. It is a great Southern in-
terest no less than a political principle, oppo-
sed to a moral principle asserted where slavery
does not exist. On the one hand, human
bondage is denounced as the most intolerable
of all evils, inconsistent with the political axi-
oms of our government, with the doctrines of
the people, with the common rights of human-
ity, with the opinions of the enlightened world,
and with Christian morality and religion, and,
therefore, while it must be permitted where it
already is established, its exclusion from terri-
tories that are yet free from it is believed to
be demanded by every benevolent consider-
ation, and to be sanctioned by the law and
by precedent. The South replies to such
reasons by reasons of a more practical kind.
She is willing to admit, that taking a merely
moral view of the question, bondage is a wrong
to the slave, but that in effect it is not half so
bad as it is commonly represented. She alleges
that if it were abolished, the actual condition
of the negro would be rendered far vi'orse than
it is at present, while the whites would inevi-
tably be ruined. The Wilmot Proviso, or any
similar measure, although it does not pretend
to meddle with slavery in States already estab-
lished, would do a great injustice to the South,
both by denying to her equal constitutional
privileges, and by the fatal moral effects that
such legislation would produce among the
slave population as well as among the free.
She declares that slavery was one. of the es-
eeutiai conditions of the country when the

Union was organized, that its political rights
were at that time acknowledged, and that, un-
der the constitution, every territorial acquisition
that the nation may make, belongs as fully to
the people owning slaves as to those who are
horror-struck at such an enormity. She adds,
with them rest all the evils — on their heads be
the guilt. They are willing to take all the re-
sponsibility— all they desire, and which they
are resolved to contend for to the last extrem-
ity, are equal legal privileges to go where they
choose with their possessions.

We shall endeavor to furnish in a conden-
sed form, such a view of this subject as can
be obtained from the Congressional manifest-
ations within the last month.

In answer to a call made by the House of
Representatives for information respecting the
new territories, the President transmitted to
that body, on the 21st of January, a special
Message, which he begins by saying, that in
coming into office and finding the military
commandant of the department of California
exercising the functions of a civil governor,
he had thought it best not to disturb the ar-
rangement that had been made by his prede-
cessor, until Congress should take some action
on the subject. With a view to the faithful
execution of the treaty, so far as lay in the
power of the Executive, and to enable Congress
to act at the present session, with as full know-
ledge and as little difficulty as possible, on all
matters of interest in those territories, he sent
the Honorable Thomas Butler King, as bearer
of despatches to California, and certain officers
to California and New Mexico. He proceeds
to say : ' . i /

" I did not hesitate to express to the people of
those Territories my desire that each Territory
should, if prepared to comply with the requisitions
of the constitution of the United States, form a
plan of a State constitution, and submit the same
to Congress, with a prayer for admission into tlie
Union as a State ; but I did not anticipate, suggest,
or authorize the establishment of any such gov-
ernment without the assent of Congress, nor did I
authorize any government agent or officer to inter-
fere with or exercise any influence or control over
the election of delegates, or over any convention,
ill making or modifying their dome.-tic institutions,
or any of the provisions of their proposed conati-

1850.]

Congressmtal Summary.

317

tution. On the contrary, the instructions given by
my orders were that all measures of domestic pol-
icy adopted by the people of California must origi-
nate solely with themselves ; that while the Exec-
utive of the United States was desirous to protect
them in the formation of any government republi-
can in its character, to be at ttie proper time sub-
mitted to Congress, yet it was to be distinctly un-
derstood that the plan of such a government must
at the same time be the result of their own delib-
erate choice, and originate with themselves, without
the interference of the Executive.

" In advising an early application by the people
of these Territories for admission as States, I was
actuated principally by an earnest desire to afford
to the wisdom and patriotism of Congress the op-
portunity of avoiding occasions of bitter and angry
dissensions among the people of the United States.
" Under the constitution, every State has the
right of establishing, and from time to time alter-
ing, its municipal laws and domestic institutions,
independently of every other State and of the gen-
eral government, subject only to the prohibitions
and guaranties expressly set forth in the constitu-
tion of the United States. The subjects thus left
exclusively to the respective States were not de-
signed or expected to become topics of national
agitation. Still, as under the constitution. Con-
gress has power to make all needful rules and reg-
ulations respecting the Territories of the United
States, every new acquisition of territory has led
to discussions on the question whether the system
of involuntary servitude which prevails in many
of the States should or should not be prohibited in
that Territory. The periods of excitement from
this cause which have heretofore occurred have
been safely passed ; but during the interval, of
whatever length, which may elapse before the ad-
mission of the Territories ceded by Mexico as
States, it appears probable that similar excitement
will prevail to an undue extent.

" Under these circumstances, I thought, and still
think, that it was my duty to endeavor to put it in
the power of Congress, by the admission of Cali-
fornia and New Mexico as States, to remove all
occasion for the unnecessary agitation of the pub-
lic nrind.

" It is understood that the people of the western
part of California have Ibrmed a plan of a State
constitution, and will soon submit the same to the
judgment of Congress and apply for admission as
a State. This course on their part, though in ac-
cordance with, was not adopted exclusively in
consequence of any expression of my wishes, in-
asmuch as measures tending to this end had been
promoted by the officers sent there by my prede-
cessor, and were already in active progress of ex-
ecution before any communication from me reach-
ed California. If the proposed constitution shall,
when submitted to Congress, be found to be in
compliance with the requisitions of the constitu-
tion of the United States, I earnestly recommend
that it may receive the sanction of Congress.

" The part of California not included in the pro-
posed State of that name is believed to be unin-
habited, except in a settlement of our countrymen
in the vicinity of Salt Lake.

" A claim has been advanced by the State of

Texas to a very large portion of the most popu-
lous district of the Territory, commonly designated
by the name of New Mexico. If the people of
New Mexico had formed a plan of a State gov-
ernment for that Territory, as ceded by the treaty
of Guadalupe Hidalgo, and had been admitted by
Congress as a State, our constitution would have
afforded the means of obtaining an adjustment of
the question of boundary with Texas by a judicial
decision. At present, however, no judicial tribu-
nal has the power of deciding that question, and it
remains for Congress to devise some mode for its
adjustment. Meanwhile I submit to Congress the
question, whether it would be expedient before
such adjustment to establish a territorial govern-
ment, which, by including the district so claimed,
would practically decide the question adversely to
the State of Texas, or, by excluding it, would de-
cide it in her favor. In my opinion, such a course
would not be expedient, especially as the people of
this Territory still enjoy the benefit and protection
of their municipal laws, originally derived from
Mexico, and have a military force stationed there
to protect them against the Indians. It is un-
doubtedly true that the property, lives, liberties,
and religion of the people of New Mexico, are
better protected than they ever were before the
treaty of cession.

" Should Congress, when California shall present
herself for incorporation into the Union, annex a
condition to her admission as a State affecting her
domestic institutions contrary to the wishes of her
people, and even compel her temporarily to com-
ply with it, yet the State could change her consti-
tution at any time after admission, when to her it
should seem expedient. Any attempt to deny to
the people of the State the right of self-govern-
ment in a matter which peculiarly afiects them-
selves will infallibly be regarded by them as an
invasion of their rights ; and, upon the principles
laid down in our own Declaration of Inde-
pendence, they will certainly be sustained by the
great mass of American people. To assert that
they are a conquered people, and must, as a State,
submit to the will of their conquerors, in this regard,
will meet with no cordial response among Ameri-
can freemen. Great numbers of them are native
citizens of the United States, and not inferior to
the rest of our countrymen in intelligence and pa-
triotism ; and no language of menace to restrain
them in the exercise of an undoubted right, sub-
stantially guarantied to them by tlie treaty of ces-
tion itself, shall ever be uttered by me, or encour-
aged and sustained by persons acting under my
authority. It is to be expected that, in the residue
ot the territory ceded to us by Mexico, the people
residing there will, at the time of their incorpora-
tion into the Union as a State, settle all questions
of domestic policy to suit themselves.

" No material inconvenience will result from the
want, for a short period, of a government estab-
lished by Congress over that part of the territory
which lies eastward of the new State of California ;
and the reasons for my opinion that New Mexico
will, at no very di:-tant period, ask for admission
into the Union are founded on unofficial informa-
tion, which, I suppose, is common to all who have
cared to make mquiries on that subject.

318

Congressional Summary.

[March,

" Seeing, then, that the question which now ex-
cites such painful sensations in the country, will, in
the end, certainly be settled by the silent effect of
causes independent of the action of Congress, I
again submit to your wisdom the policy recom-
mended in my annual message of awaiting the sal-
utary operation of those causes, believing that we
shall thus avoid the creation of geographic parties,
and secure the harmony of feeling so necessary to
the beneficial action of our political system. Con-
nected as the Union is, with the remembrance of
past happiness, the sense of present blessings, and
the hope of future peace and prosperity, every dic-
tate of wisdom, every feeling of duty, and every
emotion of patriotism, tend to inspire fidelity and
devotion to it, and admonish us cautiously to avoid
any unnecessary controversy which can either en-
danger it or impair its strength, the chief element
of which is to be found in the regard and affection
of the people for each other.

" Z. TAYLOR.

" Washington, January 21, 1850."

SENATE.

On the 16tli of January, Mr. Foote, a Sen-
ator from Mississippi, who has made himself
conspicuous by his ultra Southern doctrines,
his apparent anxiety to settle the slave ques-
tion before any other business shall engage
the attention of Congress, and by degrading
the Senate Chamber into a theatre for a kind
of charlatan oratory, introduced a Bill to
" provide for the organization of a Territorial
Government in California, Deseret, and New
Mexico, and to enable the people of Jacinto,
with the assent of the State of Texas, to pro-
vide a Constitution and State Government, and
for the admission of such State into the Union,
upon an equal footing with the original
States, in all respects whatever."

On the 22d, the same subject came up as the
order of the day, when Mr. Cass delivered a
very long and elaborate speech, which occu-
pied the greater part of the time for two days.
There are two principal questions, he said, in
the controversy respecting the Wilmot Pro-
viso, as indeed there are in all the legislation
of Congress : first, whether the measure is
constitutional ; and next, if constitutional,
whether it is expedient. He proposed chiefly
to argue the constitutional question, though,
before closing, he should offer a few remarks
on the expediency of exercising the power,
provided the power exists.

In the discussions which have taken place
on the subject, formerly and recently, all those
who have contended for the power of Con-
gress to pass this Wilmot Proviso, have con-
tended for a general and unlimited power of
legislation over the Territories. The right to
institute governments, and the right to legis-
late over their internal concerns, are used as
convertible terms. This is true, both in Con-
gress, and on the judicial bench. He quotes

from Sargent, Story, Rawle, and others, who
entertain this opinion. It was precisely this
claim of unlimited legislation which led to
our separation from England. He had listen-
ed, he said, with amazement to the long and
subtle metaphysical inquiries into the rights
of sovereignty, and the powers it brings with
it, as if the rights of sovereignty were every-
thing, and the rights of man nothing.

A great principle is involved in this contro-
versy— the inseparable connection between
legislation and representation. And what
paramount necessity calls for its violation '?
Are not the people of the territories competent
to manage their own affairs ? Are they not of
us, and with us 1 The same people, with the
same views, habits, and intelligence — all, in-
deed, which constitutes national identity?
Cannot such a people administer their own
government safely and wisely ? Experience
says they can. It is clear there is no neces-
sity for Congress to legislate for the Territo-
ries. They have never legislated exclusively,
and the very few instances of the exercise of
such a power upon the statute-book, were not
only unconstitutional, but were acts of super-
erogation.

He considered that it was no objection to the
application of this argument to the new Territo-
ries, to say, that they contained a very large for-
eign population, who were ignorant of our pol-
itical institutions ; for, he thought, in all of
them there would be a majority of the active
population, who are Anaerican citizens, emi-
grants from the older States, that would exercise
a preponderating influence on all public afftiirs.
He then referred to the late proceedings in
California for organizing a Government, as
an evidence of their ability to manage their
own concerns, and of their devotion to repub-
lican principles.

There is no clause in the Constitution,
giving Congress express power to pass any
law respecting slavery in the Territories.
Every construction which would give to Con-
gress such a power, would equally give it
jurisdiction over every department of life, so-
cial and political ; over the relations of hus-
band and wife, of parent and child, as well as
over the relations of master and servant ; it
would embrace the whole circle of human
rights — life, liberty, and property — in all their
various modes of enjoyment. If Congress
possesses the power to abolish or exclude
slavery, it has the power to institute it. If,
as many speakers contend, said Mr. C, this
right of Congress is derived from that clause
of the constitution, which provides " that
Congress shall have power to dispose of and
make all needful rules and regulations re-
specting the Territory and other property be-
longing to the United States," then is the
phraseology employed but little creditable to

1850.]

Congressional Nummary,

319

the person who prepared it, or to the body
who adopted it. Those who assume that this
phrase, so limited, confers a power so unlim-
ited, are bound to explain why similar language
was not used to grant similar power, in other
parts of the same instrument. No man has
done this — no man has attempted to do it ;
and it is an obstacle, in limine, which, till re-
moved, is insuperable. He then enumerates
a dozen other piovisions of the Constitution,
under which ditlerent persons have sought to
justify the exercise of this power. Among
these are the war and treaty-making powers;
the right to admit new States ; the right to
sell the public lands ; the right of ownership ;
the right or duty of settlement ; the right of
sovereignty : the nature of government ] na-
tionality ; the principles of agency and
trust, &c.

Much of the confusion, he said, which ac-
companies this subject, has arisen from the
use we now make of the word '^territory " by
applying it to those political communities
which are organized under the name of Terri-
torial Governments, and considering it as so
applied in the Constitution. He argued that
the term originally designated the public do-
main, or land, and had merely a geographical
meaning, and not a political one; and he re-
fers to Acts of Congress of 1785 and 1787, in
which it was repeatedly so considered and
used. In the ordinance providing for the Gov-
ernment of the Western territory, it was in
many places denominated a " district.'''' Had
those local communities, which we now call
territories, preserved the term district, as de-
scriptive of their political organization, we
should probably never have heard of the ex-
tended construction now given to this power
of making needful rules for territory or land,
and other property. The use of the term ter-
ritory was unknown in its present sense, at the
time of the adoption of the constitution. He
maintained tha. territory, as it is employed in
the constitution, means property, and that the
clause already quoted, gives no right of legis-
lation for the inhabitants. He arrayed many
eminent authorities who have taken the op-
posite ground, and endeavored to show the
fallacy of their reasonings. He combated
every right to legislate for the territories sup-
posed to be supported by constitutional autho-
rity, in an argument of great length — evincing
much research and ingenuity. The whole
constitutional part of the speech may be sum-
med up in the statement, that the constitution
confers on Congress no power of any kind to
give laws to the people inhabiting a territory ;
that it does not even confer the right to organ-
ize a government or do any other act of sov-
ereignty ; and, that if Congress may exercise
such a right at any time or under any circum-
stances, it is not derived from the organic laws,

but from the necessity of circumstances. The
power to interfere, in any manner, is not one
that can be justified by the plain provisions of
the constitution, but only by moral rea-ons
that render some form of government essential
to the happiness and well-being of the people
who are Jiving without law or order. If Con-
gress ventures to take even this step, it does
it at its own peril, and must throw itself upon
the people to obtain indemnification for thus
exceeding its legitimate authority.

He then proceeded to examine the expedi-
ency of passing the Wilmot Proviso. There
are at least, said he, fourteen States in the
Union which see in this measure a direct at-
tack upon their rights, and disregard of their
feelings and interests. No man can shut his
eyes to the excitement which prevails there, — ■
manifested in legislative proceedings, popular
assemblies, and in everyway that can express
public opinion — or be insensible to the evil day
that is upon us. He believed that the Union
would survive all the dangers with which it
might be menaced, and that it is not destined
to perish until long after it shall have fulfilled
the great mission confided to it, that of ex-
ample and encouragement to the nations of
the earth who are struggling with the despot-
ism of centuries, and groping their way in a
darkness once impenetrable, but where the
light of knowledge and freedom is beginning
to disperse the gloom. Sad will be the day
when the first drop of blood is shed in the pre-
servation of this Union. That day need never
come, and never will come, if the same spirit
of compromise and concession by each to the
feelings of all, which animated our fathers,
continues to animate us and our children. As
a mere practical question, is the legislative
adoption of this Proviso worth the hazard at
which alone it can be secured 1 There should
be great advantages, inestimable indeed, to be
gained, before such a measure is forced upon
the country. No good, under the most favor-
able circumstances, could result from this Con-
gressional interference with the rights of the
people of the Territories. Can slavery go
there if left without this prohibition "? There
are very few persons anywhere who think it
can. Considerations of profit would control the
question. The contest is not worth the cost.
The Proviso is urged on the ground of its ex-
pediency. It is opposed upon the ground of
its unconstitutionality. Those who urge it
may well abandon it when circumstances show
that the measure is dangerous in itself, or pro-
fitless in its result. Mr. Cass concluded by
saying, that he was precluded from voting in
conformity with his opinions. He had been
instructed by the Legislature of Michigan to
vote in favor of the measure, and he was a
believer in the doctrine of instructions, when
fairly exercised and under proper circumstan-

820

Congressional Summary.

[March,

ces. When the time comes that he should be
required to vote upon ihe question, as a prac-
tical one, ia a bill providing for a Territoiial
Government, he should know how to reconcile
his duty to the Legislature and duty to him-
self, by surrendering a trust that he could no
longer fulfil.

On the 29th of January, Mr. Clay present-
ed himself before the Senate in the same char-
acter in which he appeared thirty years ago
— the pacificator between the slave and the
free States — and introduced the following Re-
solutions, accompanying each one with pro-
per explanatory remarks :

1st. Resolved, That California, with suitable
boimdaries, ought upon her application to be ad
mittcd as one of the States of this Union, without
the imposition by Congress of any restriction in
respect to the exclusion or introduction of slavery
within those boundaries.

2d. Resolved, That as slavery does not exist
by law, and is not likely to be introduced into any
of the territory acquired by the United States from
the Republic of Mexico, it is ine.xpedient for Con-
gress to provide by law either for its introduc-
tion into or exclusion from any part of the said
territory ; and that appropriate Territorial Govern-
ments ought to be established by Congress in all
of the said territory, not assigned as the bounda-
ries of the proposed State of California, without
the adoption of any restriction or condition on the
subject of slavery.

3d. Resolved, That the western boundary of
the State of Texas ought to be fixed on the Rio
del Norte, commencing one marine league from
its mouth, and running up that river to the south-
em line of New Mexico ; thence with that line
eastwardly, and so continuing in the same direc-
tion to the line as established between the United
States and Spain, excluding any portion of New
Mexico, whether lying on the east or west of that
river.

4th. Resolved, That it be proposed to the State
of Texas that the United States will provide for the
payment of all that portion of the legitimate and
bona fide public debt of that State contracted prior
to its annexation to the United States, and for
which the duties on foreign imports were pledged
by the said State to its creditors, not exceeding the

sum of $ , in consideration of the said duties

so pledged having been no longer applicable to
that object after the said annexation, but having
thenceforward become payable to the United
States ; and upon the condition also that the said
State of Texas shall, by some solemn and authen-
tic act of her Legislature, or of a convention, re-
linguish to the United Stales any claim which it
has to any part of New Mexico.

5th. Resolved, That it is inexpedient to abolish
slavery in the District of Columbia, whilst that in-
stitution continues to exist in the State of Mary-
land, without the consent of that State, without the
consent of the people of the District, and without
just compensation to the owners of slaves within
the District.

6th. But resolved, That it is expedient to pro-

hibit within the District the slavp-trade, in slaves
brought into it from States or places beyond the
limits of the District, either to be sold therein as
merchandise, or to be transported to other markets
without the District of Columbia.

7th. Resolved, That more effectual provision
ought to be made by law, according to the re-
quirement of the constitution, for the restitution
and delivery of persons bound to service or labor
in any State, who may escape into any other State
or Territory in the Union.

And 8th. Resolved, That Congress has no pow-
er to prohibit or obstruct the trade in slaves be-
tween the slave-holding-States, but that the ad-
mission or exclusion of slaves brought from one
into another of them, depends exclusively upon
their own particular laws.

Although Mr. C. desired, on submitting
these Resolutions, to avoid bringing on a gen-
eral debate, and proposed that they should
be made the order of the day, some days
ahead, when he intended to enter into a more
elaborate argument than he designed on that
occasion, there was, nevertheless, a pretty
sharp onset made upon them by several mem-
bers from the South, and some undue warmth
of language was indulged in.

Mr. FooTE and Mr. Davis, the two Senators
from Mississippi, were particularly vehement
in their onset, and most eager to engage in
the conflict. Mr. Mason, Mr. Rusk, Mr.
King, Mr. Downs, Mr. Berrien, and Mr.
Butler, all from the slave States, thought it
necessary, lest their silence might be construed
into an assent, to interpose their objections
without any delay. Passing by the first
speech, we shall offer a sketch of the second,
— the more elaborate one, — that was deliver-
ed on the 5th of February, when the Resolu-
tions came up in order.

Mr. Clay began by saying that never, on
any former occasion, had he risen under feel-
ings of such painful solicitude. He had wit-
nessed many periods of great anxiety, of peril,
and of danger in this country, but never be-
fore had he risen to address any assemblage
so oppressed, so appalled, and so anxious.
He had, again and again in his chamber,
implored Him, who holds the destinies of na-
tions, as of individuals, in his hands, to be-
stow upon our country his blessing, to calm
the violence and rage of party, to still pas-
sion, and to allow reason once more to resume
its empire ; and he hoped it would not be out
of place to make the same supplication there.
He attributed all the present dangers and diffi-
culties to party-spirit, that was busy in the
North, the South, in Congress, and in State Le-
gislatures. The House of Representatives had
felt its influence so strongly, that it had spent
a whole week this very session, in the
vain endeavor to elect a door-keeper, and the
only question was, whether he entertained

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

321

opinions upon certain great national measures,
coincident with tiiis or that side of the House.
Nearly eight years since he had taken his
final leave, as he had supposed, of the Senate.
He had not conceived the possibility of his ever
returning to it, and if his private wishes and
inclinations, his desire, during the short remnant
of his days, to remain in repose and quiet, could
have prevailed, he would not be seen occupy-
ing the seat which he now occupies on that
floor. But the Legislature of the State to
which he belonged, unsolicited, had re-elected
him : and he had come there in obedience to a
sense of stern duty, with no personal objects,
no private views, now or hereafter, to gratify.
He begged to assure all who might hear him,
or any persons out of the Capitol, who hope
in the race for honors and elevation, for high-
er honors and higher elevation, that he, at
least, would never interfere with them in their
pursuits ; and if his wishes could prevail, his
name should never be used in competition.
When his service was terminated in that body,
his mission, so far as respects the public af-
fairs of this world, and upon this earth, would
be closed, he hoped, forever. It is impossi-
ble not to perceive that party-spirit afTects all
our affairs. At the moment when the White
House is itself in danger from conflagra-
tion, instead of all hands uniting to extinguish
the flames, we are contending about who shall
be its next occupant. It is passion — passion,
party, party, and intemperance, that he dread-
ed in the adjustment of the questions, which
unhappily divide our distracted country. At
this moment, besides the legislative bodies of
the Capitol, there are twenty-odd furnaces in
full blast, emitting heat, and passion, and in-
temperance. Two months ago all was calm,
in comparison with the present. Now, all is
uproar, confusion, and menace to the existence
of the Union, and to the happiness of this
people. He conjured senators, by all their
hopes now and hereafter, to repress the ardor
of these passions, to listen to the voice of
reason. He had cut himself off, he said, from
all the usual enjoyments of society during this
whole session, and had confined himself, al-
most entirely, to his own chamber, anxiously
meditating on some plan of accommodation,
which would restore the blessings of con-
cord, harmony, and peace to this great coun-

The first Resolution relates to California.
There is no concession by either party. If
slaveiy is interdicted within the limits of
California, it is done by California herself,
and not by Congress ; and has it not been the
doctrine of all parties, that when a State is
about to be admitted into the Union, it has a
right to decide for itself, whether it will or not
tolerate slavery within its boundaries. He
then referred to the introduction of Missouri

into the Union. The great argument used by
those contending for its admission was, that
she had all the rights of any pre-existing
State, and was legally as competent to decide
whether she should have slavery or not
as New York, or any other of the old thirteen
were. No one doubts now that those North-
western States to which the ordinance of 1787
applied, have just as much right to introduce
slavery within their borders, as Virginia has to
maintain the existence of it within hers. If, then,
in the struggle for empire between the two
classes of States, a decision in California has
taken place, adverse to the wishes of the
South, it is a decision respecting which they
can utter no complaint towards the Gen-
eral Government, for it is made by California,
who unquestionably had the constitutional
right to make it.

Respecting the second resolution, he said he
knew that every one of the free States in this
Union, without exception, had by its legisla-
tive body, passed resolutions instructing their
Senators and requesting their Representatives
to have the restiiction of the Wilmot Proviso
incorporated in any Territorial Government
which might be established under the auspices
of Congress. He knew how much they had
set their hearts upon the adoption of this meas-
ure. In the second resolution he asked them,
for the sake of peace, and in the spirit of mu-
tual forbearance to the other members of the
Union, to give it up. As a compensation for
doing so, he felt bound to offer something in
return, though it was not by any means an
equivalent. What he offered was what he
considered two indisputable truths ; the first
is, that slavery no longer exists, by law, in
any part of the acquisitions made by us from
Mexico ; and the second is, that according to
all the probabilities of the case, slavery never
will be introduced into any portion of the ter-
ritories so acquired from Mexico. It is said
that these two are tantamount to the Wilmot
Proviso. But he did not think so, as the one
was a positive enactment prohibiting it, while
the other was the simple expression of an
opinion. He then adverted to the condition of
the territory while it was still Mexican. At
that time, slavery had been formally abolished,
whether regularly done or not was no question
for this Government to settle. The last act
of Mexico, when arranging for a surrender of
jurisdiction, showed the abhorrence with which
she would regard the introduction of slavery
into any portion of the territory that she should
cede away. This was sufficient, he thought,
to prove that slavery does not exist there by
law, unless slavery was carried there the mo-
ment the treaty was ratified by the two par-
ties, under the operation of the Constitution of
the United States. This idea he declared was
irreconcilable with any comprehension of rea-

822

Congressional Summary.

[March,

son that he might possess. How can it be
argued that the fifteen slave States, by the op-
eration of the Constitution, carried into the
ceded territory their institution of slavery, any
more than it can be argued, on the other side,
that by the operation of the same Constitution,
the fifteen free Slates carried into the ceded
territory their principles of freedom. Suppose,
said he, that we had obtained the new terri-
tory with slavery existing in it, in fact and in
law, would gentlemen from the slave States
patiently listen to any argument which under-
took to show that, notwithstanding this fact,
the Constitution of the United States abolished
it the moment it took effect over that country ?
The argument was just as good for one side
as the other. Amid the conflict of interests,
principles, and legislation, which prevails in
the two parts of the Union, can you come to
any other conclusion than that which I under-
stand to be the conclusion of the public law of
the world, of reason, and justice, that the status
of law, as it existed at the moment of the con-
quest or the acquisition, remains until it is al-
tered by the sovereign authority of tlie con-
quering or-acquiring power '? This is the estab-
lished public law of the world. The laws of
MexicOj as they prevailed at the time of the
cession, remained the same until 'and unless
they were altered by that power which had
newly obtained sovereign rights over it.

Mr. Clay then noticed the general power
which appertains to the Government on the
subject of slavery. Congress has no power,
under the Constitution, to touch slavery with-
in the States, except in the three specified par-
ticulars in that instrument, viz : to adjust the
subject of representation, to impose taxes when
a system of direct taxation is made, and to per-
form the duty of surrendering fugitive slaves
that may escape from service which they owe
in slave States, and take refuge in free States.
If, said he. Congress were to attack, within
the States, the institution of slavery for the
purpose of its extinction, then would his voice
be for war, for then would there be a case
which would justify, in the sight of God, and
in the presence of the nations of the earth, re-
sistance to such an unconstitutional and usurp-
ed attempt. Then should the slave States
be acting in defence of their rights, property,
safety, lives ; and then, if unfortunately civil
war should break out, and there should be
presented to the nations of the earth the spec-
tacle of one portion of this Union endeavor-
ing to subvert an institution in violation of
the Constitution and the most sacred obliga-
tions that can bind men, the. slave States
would have the sympathies of all men who
love justice and truth. Far different would
be our case if the same fearful condition
should arise from an attempt to carry slavery
into the new territories acquired from Mexico.

We have all read of the efforts made by
France to propagate on the continent of Europe
not slavery but the rights of man. If a civil
war should break out in this country in the
strife to establish slavery on the one hand,
and to prevent it on the other, in the territo-
ries where it does not exist, what a scene
would be exhibited to the contemplation of
mankind ? It would be a war in which we,
of the slave States should have no sympathy,
no good wishes, and in which all the world
would be against us, for, from the commence-
ment of the revolution down to the present
time, we have constantly reproached our Bri-
tish ancestors for introducing slavery into
this country ; and it is one of the best defences
which can be made for the institution that it
was forced on this country against the wishes
of the inhabitants.

He declared his belief that Congress has
power over slavery in the territories, and refer-
red to the argument of Mr. Cass in opposition
to this view. When a point is settled, said he,
by all the elementary writers of our country,
by all the departments of our Government, le-
gislative, executive, and judicial, when it has
been so settled for a period of fifty years, and
never was seriously disturbed till recently, then
if we are to regard anything as fixed and set-
tled, should this question be, which has been
always decided in a particular way. The
power of Congress over this subject he deri-
ved both from the right to regulate the terri-
tories and other property of the United States,
and the right to make treaties. When our
Constitution was written, the whole country
northwest of the Ohio river was unpeopled.
Is it possible that Congress had no right what-
ever, after it had become national property, to
declare what description of settlers should oc-
cupy the public lands ? If they had supposed
that the introduction of slavery would enhance
their value, would they not have had the right
to say, in regulating the territory, that any
one who chooses, may bring slaves to clear
and cultivate the soil, &c. ? Or, suppose that
Congress might think that a greater amount
of revenue would be derived from the waste
lands beyond the Ohio river by the interdiction
of slavery, would they not have a right to in-
terdict it ? The exercise of the power to make
Governments for territories is temporary, and
it ceases whenever there is a sufficient popula-
tion for self-government. Sixty thousand is
the number fixed by the ordinance of 1787.
The first settlement of Ohio was about Mari-
etta, and contained two or three hundred
people from New England. Cincinnati was the
next point, and was settled by a few persons
from, perhaps, New Jersey. Did those few
persons, the moment they arrived there, ac-
quire sovereign rights, and had they power to
dispose of these territories ? Had they evea

1850.]

Cofigressional Summary.

323

power — a handful of men established at Ma-
rietta or Cincinnati — to govern themselves ]
The Constitution no doubt contemplates that,
inasmuch as the power is temporary, the Gov-
ernment who owns the soil may, through Con-
gress, regulate the settlement of the soil, and
govern the settlers, until they acquire num-
bers and capacity to govern themselves.

The power of Congress to introduce or to
exclude slavery in the ceded territory he finds
in the acquiring, or treaty-making provision
of the Constitution. Such a power exists
somewhere. It existed — no one will deny it
— in Mexico prior to the cession of these ter-
ritories, and when Mexico made the transfer of
territory to the United States, she also trans-
ferred her sovereignty. What Mexico aliena-
ted, the United States received. This Govern-
ment then possesses all the power now that for-
merly was possessed by Mexico over the ceded
country, and can do, within the limits of the
Constitution, what Mexico could have done.
On this subject there is no limitation which
prescribes the extent to which the powers
shall be exercised. Although, in the Consti-
tution, there is no grant of power to Congress,
in specific terms, over the subject of slavery,
yet the same is true over a great variety of
matters over which Congress may unquestion-
ably operate. The general grant of power
comprehends all the elements of which that
power consists. If there be a power to ac-
quire, there must be a power to govern. From
the two sources of power to which he had re-
ferred, and especially the last, did Congress
obtain the right to act in the territories in
question, and he considered the right sufficient
either to permit or prohibit in them the intro-
duction of slavery.

As respects what he calls the second truth,
what are the facts, said Mr. C, that have oc-
curred within the last three months ? Cali-
fornia,— where, if any where, slavery would
most probably have been introduced in the
new territories — California, herself, has de-
clared, by the unanimous vote of her Conven-
tion, against the importation of slavery with-
in her limits, and that Convention was com-
posed of persons from the slave-holding as
well as from the free States. California has
thus responded to the opinion contained in the
resolution. The mountain-region of New
Mexico, — the nature of its soil — its unpro-
ductive character, every thing relating to it —
every thing that we hear about it — must ne-
cessarily lead to the conclusion that slavery
is not likely to be introduced there. If these
are truths, said Mr. Clay, why hesitate to
promulgate them % Senators coming from the
free States, said he, when this Wilmot Proviso
was disseminated through your States, and
your people and yourselves became seriously
attached to it, you apprehended the introduc-

tion of slavery into California. You did not
know much, — very few of us heard much of
these territories, and owing to this want of
information, the whole North blazed up in be-
half of a prohibition. You left your consti-
tuents under this apprehension. When you
left your residences, you did not know that a
Constitution had been adopted by the people
of California excluding slavery from that
country. If what we all know now, had
been known in the free States two years ago
— if all the present excitement and danger, as
well as the probability that slavery will
never be conveyed to those territories had then
been known, do you believe that the agitation
on the Proviso would ever have reached the
height that it has attained "? Do any of you
believe it ? And if, before leaving your
homes, you had had an opportunity of confer-
ring with your constituents upon this most lead-
ing and important fact — of the adoption of a
Constitution excluding slavery in California
— do you not believe. Senators and Represen-
tatives coming from the free States, that if
you had had the advantage of that fact told
in serious, calm, fire- side conversation with
your constituents, they would not have told
you to come here and settle all these disturb-
ing questions without danger to the Union ?

What do you want ? — what do you want ?
— you who reside in the free States. Do you
want that there shall be no Slavery introduced
into the territories acquired by the war with
Mexico '? Have you not your desire in Califor-
nia 1 And in all human probability you will
have it in New Mexico also. W^hat more do
you want ? You have got what is worth more
than a thousand Wilmot Provisos. You have
nature itself on your side — fact itself on your
side — and this truth staring you in the face,
that there is no slavery in those territories.
If you are not mad, if you can elevate your-
selves from the struggles of party to the height
of patriots in every sense, what will you do %
Look at the fact as it exists You will see
that this fact was unknown to the great ma-
jority of the people ; you will see that they
acted upon one set of facts, while we have
another set of facts before us 5 and we will
act as patriots — as responsible men, and as
lovers of liberty, and lovers, above all, of this
Union. We will act upon this set of facts
that were unknown to our constituents, and
appeal to their justice and magnanimity to
concur with us in this action for peace, con-
cord, and harmony.

Mr. Clay then passed to the resolutions re-
lating to Texas. He considered this question
as the most difiicult with which Congress had
to deal, because it was one of boundary. The
North would probably be anxious to contract
Texas within the narrowest possible limits, in
order to diminish the theatre of slavery, while

324

Congressional Summary.

[March,

the South would entertain an opposite wish for
an opposite reason. By the resolution of annex-
ation, slavery was interdicted in all the coun-
try north of 36 deg. 30 min. There is, there-
fore, boundary and slave territory mixed to-
gether in the settlement of this perplexity.
The state of things now existing in New
Mexico renders it necessary that we decide
this matter the present session. There is a
feeling approximating to abhorrence on the
part of the people of NeAv Mexico, at the idea
of any union with Texas. If these questions
are not settled, I think they will give rise to
future confusion there, and agitation here.
The VVilmot Proviso will still be insisted on
in the North, and we shall absolutely have
done nothing, if we fail to provide against the
recurrence of these dangers. He read an ex-
tract from the instructions to their Delegate to
Congress, adopted by the Convention of the
Territory of New Mexico, held at the city of
Santa Fe, in September, 1849. The extract
sets forth the deplorable condition of the coun-
try, from want of an efficient government,
which government they represented as unde-
fined and doubtful in its character, and they
looked to the Congress of the United States
for effectual protection against all the ills they
complain of. After dwelling at some length
on the necessity of furnishing the people of
New Mexico with a government, and taking
them under Congressional protection, he di-
rected his argument entirely to the boundary
of Texas. He alleged that the western and
northern borders were unsettled at the period
of annexation, and quoted the resolution of
annexation in proof, which says : " said State
to be formed, subject to the adjustment of all
questions of boundary that may arise with
other Governments, and the Constitution there-
of," &c. That is to say, she was annexed
with her rightful boundaries, without a speci-
fication of them ; but inasmuch as the boun-
daries at the west and north were unsettled,
the Government of the United States retained
to ilself the power of deciding with any foreign
nation what the boundary should be. Sup-
pose, said he, that at the conclusion of the
war, the negotiations between Mexico and the
United States had been confined to fixing the
northern and western boundaries of Texas,
could not the two countries have done it con-
jointly % Whatever may have been the boun-
dary decided on, if it had been the Neuces,
or even the Colorado, on the west, by the very
terms of the annexing resolutions, Texas would
have been bound by the decision. He then
argued that if the two nations could have thus
adjusted the limits, the United States is
competent now to do it alone, for she has ac-
quired, by the treaty, all the rights which
Mexico possessed in that territory, which
must form its western and northern borders.
Mr. Clay insisted, at some length, that the

United States has/W^ power to settle the un-
decided boundaries. He admitted that it was
a delicate power, and it ought to be exercised
in a spirit of justice, liberality, and generosity
towards the youngest member of the great
American family. He thought that if Con-
gress should fix a boundary, which, in the
opinion of Texas, was adverse to her rights, it
was possible the question might be carried
into the Supreme Court, for a new adjudica-
tion— he, however, conceived there were cer-
tain matters too momentous for any tribunal
of that kind to try. He alluded to the fifteen
millions paid for territory. Texas cannot
fairly come into the Union, and claim all that
she has asserted a right to, without paying
some portion of the sum which constituted the
consideration of the grant by the ceding na-
tion. She talks about the Government of the
United States being her agent, but she was no
more her agent, than she was the agent of the
twenty-nine other States. Mr. Clay then
urged that what he proposed as the boundary,
was liberal, and gave Texas a vast country to
which she could not establish any undisputed
title — a country, almost equal in extent to what
she actually possessed before, and large enough
to form two or three additional States. In
addition, he proposed to pay off not less than
three millions of the debt of Texas, that ac-
crued before she came into the Union. In-
deed, he thought the United States should, in
justice, pay the debt for which Texas had
pledged her custom's revenues, when she was
authorized so to do by virtue of her sover-
eignty ; and the Government of the United
States, having appropriated those revenues to
itself, as a just power, was bound to pay the
debt for which those duties were assigned.
He concluded this part of his argument by
expressing a conviction that all the motives
he presented to Texas were so liberal, that
he should be greatly disappointed if the peo-
ple of that State themselves, when they come
to deliberate, hesitated a moment to accept the
offers.

Mr. Clay contended that Congress possess-
ed the constitutional right to abolish slavery
in the District of Columbia, and he quoted
that part of the constitution which gives to
Congress " exclusive legislation" over it. The
power exists somewhere. " Suppose," said
he, " that slavery was abolished in Maryland,
or in all the States of the Union, is there then
no power to abolish slavery here, or is it
planted here to all eternity, without the pos-
sibility of the exercise of any legislative power
for its abolition 1 It cannot be vested in Mary-
land, because the power with which Congress
is invested is exclusive. Maryland, therefore,
cannot do it, and so all the other States of the
Union, individually, cannot doit. The power
is here or it is nowhere." He reviewed the
course he took in 1838, and showed that the

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

325

ground he took then was consistent with his
present position. But when Virginia and
Maryland ceded the District to the General
Government, there was an implied understand-
ing that the subject would not be interfered with
without their consent. Congress, therefore,
cannot, without the forfeiture of all those ob-
ligations of honor which men of honor and
nations of honor respect, disturb the insti-
tution of slavery in the District of Columbia.
By the retrocession, however, of so much of
the ten miles square as belonged to Virginia,
Maryland is the only State now that we are
bound to consult. If Maryland should give
her consent, the consent of the people residing
in the District should also be obtained, and
this being given, then the owners of slaves
have the right to look for compensation. These
are the three conditions of the resolution.
There is a clause in one of the amendments of
the Constitution,^ which declares that no private
property shall be taken for public use without
just compensation being made to the owner.
Literally, he said, it may be that the property
would not be taken for the -public use, but it
would be taken in consideration of a policy
and purpose adopted by the public, and, by
a liberal interpretation of the clause, it ought
to be so far regarded as taken for the public
as to demand compensation. If it is denied
that this clause is a restriction on Congress,
then is there no restriction of any kind, except
the great one of the obligation of justice. The
North have the Constitution in their favor —
the South have expediency and honor in theirs.
The resolution asks of both parties to forbear
urging their respective opinions — the one to
the exclusion of the other, but it concedes to
the South all that the South ought to de-
mand, insomuch as it requires such a condition
as amounts to an absolute security for pro-
perty in slaves in the District, and which will
probably make the existence of slavery in the
Diftrict co-eval with its existence in any of
the States out of and beyond it. He then in-
sisted that the slave trade ought to be abolish-
ed. The introduction of slaves in Kentucky,
IMississippi, and in many other of the States,
is prohibited. It is a right belonging to each
State. It also belongs, in an equal degree, to
the United States in the District, and there
had been, he said, no time in his public life
when he was not willing to concur in the ab-
olition of the slave trade in the District. Why
should slave-traders, who buy their slaves in
Maryland or Virginia come here with them in
order to transport them further South ? Why
are the feelings of citizens here outraged by
the scenes e.xhibited, and the corteges which
pass along our avenues of manacled human
beings brought from the distant parts of neigh-
boring- States % Who is there having a heart
that does not contemplate a spectacle of that

kind with horror anil indignation ? This is
an object in which both the free and the slave
States should unite, and which one side as
well as the other should rejoice in effecting, as
it would lessen one of the causes of inquiet-
ude which is connected with this District.

He then took up the next resolution, and
declared that he would go as far as him who
went the farthest for this clause of the Consti-
tution. He held that the Constitution requi-
red every man to assist in recovering fugitive
slaves; and the obligation was especially bind-
ing, as in cases of fugitives from justice —
upon all officers of the several States, who
had taken an oath to support the Constitution
of the United States. The Constitution ap-
plies precisely the same language to both
classes of fugitives. He then alluded to a
recent decision of the Supreme Court, and
said he thought that that decision had been
misapprehended. The true meaning was that
any State laws which acted as an impediment to
the recovery of fugitive slaves were contrary
to the Constitution. It is, however, only ful-
filling the duties imposed by the Constitution,
for States to enact laws which may afford
facilities for the more perfect observance of
the obligations imposed by the Federal funda-
mental law. He thought that the whole class
of legislation, beginning in the Northern
States, and extending to some of the Western,
by which obstructions have been placed in
the way of recovering fugitive slaves, is un-
constitutional. He then referred to the diffi-
culties and losses of Kentucky in consequence
of living contiguous to Ohio. He believed
that the slave States had just cause of com-
plaint on this score. It is no mark of good
neighborhood, of kindness, or of courtesy,
that a man living in a slave State cannot
now, with any sort of safety, travel in the
free States with his servants. On this sub-
ject, the legislation of the free States, within
the last twenty years, has altered greatly for
the worse. There used to be laws guaran-
tying to the sojourner the possession of his
property during his temporary abode or pas-
sage in a State, when there was no intention of
residing permanently in the Commonwealth.
He complained strongly of this unkindness,
and alluded to circumstances that had occurred
in his own family. The existing law for the
recovery of fugitive slaves being found inade-
quate, he thought it was incumbent on Con-
gress to do something to remove this subject
of complaint by making the law more effec-
tive.

But, said he, I do not think that the States,
as States, ought to be responsible for all the
misconduct of individuals, and the doctrines
they propagate, unless the State itself adopts
the doctrines. He then referred to the circum-
stances under which Massachusetts repealed

326

Congressional Summary.

[March,

her laws for the restitution of slaves, and he
considered it was an act of retaliation, be-
cause an agent of the State, Mr. Hoar, had
been driven from Charleston, whither he had
gone to protect the rights of negroes from
Massachusetts, whom she regarded as citizens.
After making a remark or two on the last
resolution, Mr. Clay sketched a history of the
Missouri compromise, and of the agency he
had had in efTecting that important measure.
Then, as now, the Union seemed to be in dan-
ger, and now, as then, all difficulties may be
settled, if men will only allow cool reason and
judgment to rule. He then drew a glowing
picture of the growth and grandeur of the
country — of its wonderful increase in popula-
tion and in all the elements of power, and of
its successful wars. " Sir," he said, " our
prosperity is unbounded ; nay, I sometimes
fear that it is in the wantonness of that pros-
perity that many of the threatening ills of the
moment have arisen ; there is a restlessness
existing among us which I fear will require
the chastisement of Heaven to bring us back
to a sense of the immeasurable benefits and
blessings which have been bestowed upon us
by Providence. At this moment — with the
exception of here and there a particular de-
partment in the manufacturing business of
our country — all is prosperity and peace, and
the nation is rich and powerful, and if it does
\ not awe, it commands the respect of the pow-
ers of the earth, with whom we come in con-
tact." He then pointed to the history of the
great public measures of the country, and
showed that Southern influence had generally
prevailed in the councils of the nation; and
the three great acquisitions of territory, those
of Louisiana, of Florida, and of Texas, have
almost wholly redounded to the benefit of the
South. The South have no reason to complain,
as they have constantly been the gainers, and
now, after all this, "I put it," said he, "to
the hearts of my countrymen of the South, if
it is right to press matters to the disastrous
consequences — extending to a dissolution of
the Union — which have been indicated, on
this very morning, on the presentation of cer-
tain resolutions 1" If the Union is dissolved,
for any existing cause, it will be because
slavery is not allowed in the ceded territories,
or because it is threatened to be abolished in
the district of Columbia, or because fugitive
slaves are not restored to their masters. If
the Union is dissolved, can you of the South
carry slavery into California and New Mexico ?
You cannot dream of such an occurrence.
Are you in any way benefitted by the separa-
tion ? Where one slave escapes now, hun-
dreds and thousands would escape, if the
Union were dissevered. War and dissolution
are identical and inevitable. If the Union
were dissolved by mutual consent, still war

would follow in less than sixty days, (in con-
sequence of the border difficulties respecting
fugitive slaves,) in every part of this now
happy and peaceable land. It was his opinion
that, in the event of a separation, we should
begin with at least three distinct Confedera-
cies,— one of the North, one of the Southern
Atlantic slave-holding States, and a Confede-
racy of the Valley of the Mississippi : and, sub-
sequently, there would be many more growing
out of these. He concluded his speech in the
following patriotic and thrilling strain :

" Sir, I have said that I thought there was no
right on the. part of one or more States to secede
from the Union. I think so. The conbtitution of
the United States was made not merely for the gen-
eration that then existed, but for posterity — unHm-
ited, undefined, endless, perpetual posterity. And
every State that then came into the Union, and
every State that has since come into the Union,
came into it binding itself by indissoluble bands to
remain within the Union itself, and to remain with-
in it by its posterity forever. « * *

" Mr. President: I have said, what I solemnly
believe, that dissolution of the Union and war are
identical and inevitable ; that they are convertible
terms ; and such a war as it would be following
a dissolution of the Union ! * * *

" Look at all history — consult her pages, an-
cient or modern — look at human nature ; look at
the character of the contest in which you would
be engaged in the supposition of war following
upon the dissolution of the Union, such as I have
suggested ; and I ask you if it is possible for you to
doubt that the final disposition of the whole would
be some despot treading down the liberties of the
people — the final result would be the extinction of
this last and glorious light which is leading all
mankind, who are gazing upon it, in the hope and
anxious expectation that the liberty which prevails
here will sooner or later be diffused thoughout the
whole civilized world. Sir, can you lightly con-
template these consequences ? Can you yield
yourself to the tyranny of passion, amidst dangers
which I have depicted in colors far too tame, of
what the result would be if that direful event to
which I have referred should ever occur ] Sir, I
implore gentlemen, I adjure them, whether from
the South or the North, by all that they hold dear
in this world — by all their love of liberty — by all
their veneration for their ancestors — by all their
regard for posterity — by all their gratitude to Him
who has bestowed on them such unnumbered and
countless blessings — by all the duties which they
owe to mankind — and by all the duties which they
owe to themselves, to pause, solemnly to pause at
the edge of the precipice, before the fearful and dan-
gerous leap is taken into the yawning abyss below,
from which none who ever take it shall return m
safety.

" Finally, Mr. President, and in conclusion, I
implore, as the best blessing which Heaven can
bestow upon me upon earth, that if the direful and
sad event of the dissolution of this Union is to hap-
pen, that I shall not survive to behold the sad and
heart-rending spectacle."

1850.]

Critical Notices.

327

CRITICAL NOTICES

Memoirs of the Life of William Wirt: By
John P. Kennedy. Philadelphia : Lee &
Blanchaid.

The fact of a second edition of these instructive
volumes being called for, sufHciently indicates the
standing which they deserve so well, and have so
rapidly taken in the estimation of the public. It
is surprising that so few memoirs of the distin-
guished American contemporaries of William
Wirt have been published. This kind of literature,
so successful in France, would be eminently so in
this country, where so many great names, endeared
to the people, still await the labors of the biogra-
pher, and where writers are to be found, like the
present editor, so fully competent to the task.
The career of William Wirt is that of a highly
successful lawyer. It does not abound in mcident.
But the high station he filled, his popularity at the
bar, the important causes in which his eloquence
was displayed, and his correspondence with the
greatest men of the nation, would make his Ut'e
interesting, even from a pen much less qualified
than that of John P. Kennedy. For the sake of
giving an idea of this writer's style, we will e.x-
tract a short passage on the birth of the democratic
party — so called of late years — a party, which
now offers a fair field for the labors of the histori-
an, since its rise, its progress, and its fall, belong
to a not very distant past, and furnish those requi-
sites of a full and complete action, which are deem-
ed necessary for the effect of a narrative :

" The election terminated in favor of General
Jackson. He was inaugurated President of the
United States, on the 4th of March, 1829. On
this day, the democratic party, which had been
predominant in the admini.stration of the affairs of
the general government for twenty-eight years,
surrendered its power into the hands of that new
party, which had been brought together by the
popularity of the hero of New Orleans. The new
party was a miscellaneous one. It embraced all
that portion of the federalists who were anxious to
come into power, — by no means a small host.
It absorbed a large number of the young politi-
cians, who had grown up to manhood during
the period of General Jackson's military career.
It attracted and embodied such portions of the
masses of the people, as conceived the chief ma-
gistracy to be an appropriate reward for distin-
guished military exploits — always a large number
in every government. The leaders in this combina-
tion were eager and practised politicians, bred in the
schools of some of the parties, which had heretofore
divided the country. Their political creed, there-
fore, was various, according to the school in which
each had been educated ; but it was accomodating,
and sufficiently held in the back-ground to enable
it to await events. The opinions of the chief him-

self were so far indefinite as to give each section of
his party hopes of finding it an easy matter to
comply with his taste, in respect to measures. Old
democrats and federalists were united in his cabi-
net, without any visible contrariety of position. It
was an era of surrender and compromise of old
antipathies, with an implied promise of silence, for
the future, on old topics. By-gones were to be
by-gones. The destination of the party was to be
settled hereafter. Its principles and measures were
to be left to the chapter of accidents. For the
present, all differences were submerged beneath
the General's unbounded popularity. This was
the condition of that new party, which had just
overthrown a political domination of twenty-eight
years, and which was fated itself to be overthrowa
in twenty years more."

Roland Cashel. By Charles Lever. With Il-
lustrations by Phiz. New York: Harper &
Brothers.

The author of Charles O'Malley is the last per-
son from whose pen wo should have expected a
work like Roland Cashel. Heretofore he has
generally been content to let his fancy run riot
among those scenes peculiar to Ireland, which he
is so well competent to describe. The slightest
thread of fiction was, in his hands, a sufficient
canvas for the rich embroidery of anecdote and
fun which his well stored memory and his epi-
grammatic genius readily supplied. In the novel
now before us he has taken a somewhat loftier
aim. He has adopted the artifice of an intricate
plot, whose developments, apart from details, are
sufficient to interest and excite the reader. 'Be-
sides, he has kept in view a moral truth, whose il-
lustration forms the graver object of the work.
His conception is to show a young man, every
way qualified to be an ornament of society, sud-
denly acquiring enomious wealth, and becoming a
member of the proprietary aristocracy of Ireland
— a young man, thus qualified and situated, and
who, nevertheless, and in spite of the best inten-
tions in the world, turns the blessing into a curse
for others, as well as himself, and wholly neglects
the high trust reposed in him, and this through
sheer ignorance of the real duties and responsi-
bilities attendant upon wealth. In making his
selection for a hero, the author was somewhat
embarrassed. No youth, bom and educated in
Great Britain, could be supposed to possess the
ignorance which the subject required, M'ithout also
being tainted with qualities peculiar to the low.er
classes in that country, and which would disqualify
him for the spirited part of the hero of a British
drama in high life. The hero, therefore,, must be
a youth, educated abroad ; and the greater the
contrast between the habits of his former liie, and

828

Critical Notices*

[March,

those of the class into which he would be thrown,
by hirf sudden acquisition of landed property in
Ireland, the better for the purpose of the author.
Long must the author have pondered ere he solved
his problem. We wonder that he did not i'eign
his hero brought up in the United States. Surely,
no contrast could have been greater than that
between the principles of equality and political jus-
tice, received here in early life, and the narrow
prejudices of the privileged classes of Great Britain.
Perhaps, however, this solution of the difficulty
would have carried Mr. Lever too far. Perhaps,
in the conte.=t between two such different modes of
viewing life, the young stranger's ideas must have
appeared too sensible and just; those of his new
friends, too bigoted and arriere. The author
brings his hero to Ireland, from the semi-piratical
naval service of the late Colombian Republic.
Possessor of enormous wealth, suddenly acquired,
gifted with all the attributes of novel-heroism, and
desirous withal to administer his high stewardship
for the good of his fellow-beings, but, inexperi-
enced in the ways of the old world, Roland be-
comes the dupe of designing adventurers, and soon
learns, through sad experience, that the art of
doing good, is most difficult to acquire. The
manner in which the hero illustrates the truth he
intended to establish, is beyond all praise.

There is one character, whose presence in this
novel we regret. It is that of Torn Linton. He
is a thorough villain in high life, cold, perfidious,
unprincipled, and heartless. He has not one single
redeeming trait. For the high intellectual facul-
ties wherewith he is endowed, only aggravate his
enormous guilt. Not even the pride of station, or
the pride of ambition, seems to lend one good im-
pulse to his callous heart. He evinces no affec-
tion for any human being. His love for the Lady
Kilgoif of the novel, is, it would seem, purposely
shown in a light which gives no relief to his detes-
table nature. It seems to have been the author's
predetermined aim to depict a monstrous embodi-
ment of all tbat is evil. Now, we believe that the
portraiture of such a character is not only a libel
against human nature, but, also, a blunder in art.

A System of Ancient and Mediaeval Geogra-
phy. For the use of Schools and Colleges: By
Charle-s Anthon, L. L. D., &,c. New York :
Harper & Brothers.

Professor Anthon bids fair to leave behind him
the fame of the most indefatigable compiler of
modern times. There is scarcely any walk of
classical literature which his laborious erudition
has not invaded. He could not have applied his
industrious research to a subject that stood more
in need of comprehensive illustration, than ancient
and mediaeval geography. The reader is not to
understand, from this double title, that the work
now before us proposes, systematically, to expound
the obscure and ever changing political geography
of the middle ages. The knowledge of the an-
cients concerning the continents of Europe, Asia,
and Africa, is traced from its earliest ascertained
origin, down to the period when the subversion of
the Roman Empire efiaced old boundaries from
the map of the world. Mediaeval details are spa-

ringly added, in particular cases, where the impor-
tance of the subject requires them.

Mr. Anthon has adopted a commendable method
in the disposition of his task. He treats of the
great territorial divisions first, in a comprehensive
manner, which leaves a clear, general impression
upon the reader's mind, and afterwards, with such
details as may appear necessary, gathering toge-
ther, in the shape of notes, such explanatory obser-
vations as he deems necessary to illustrate the
text, or to account for his preference in cases
where authorities conflict. These " observations"
generally contain lucid summaries of such historical
and ethnological questions as the text suggests.

Considering the vast range of the work, the
darkness of the subject, and the immense number
of authorities consulted, it is to be presumed that
oversights must have occurred in this first edition,
which the author, at a future period, will correct.
Cursory as our own perusal has been, several in-
stances have attracted our notice, where, without
attempting to decide between Mr. Anthon and
our own former teachers, we saw that either they
or he must be wrong. Not a few passages also
might be cited where our author is in glaring con-
tradiction with himself. For example, when we
read (p. 4) that the Basque was a branch of the
Celtic, we fancied that Mr. Anthon must have
discovered some new facts in philology, which over-
turned what we had been led to consider a well
established theory, and which also set at nought
some very agreeable hypotheses of our own there-
anent. But we found consolation at page 158,
where the author, entrenching himself behind the
formidable authority of W. Von Humboldt, bids
us rest assured that the Basque is not of Celtic, but
of Iberian, and, therefore, remotely, of Flemish
origin. A conclusion, perfectly in accordance
with facts ascertained from widely different
sources, and all tending to prove that the interest-
ing people who inhabit that section of France and
Spain, where the beautiful Basque language is still
spoken, (a language which Montaigne almost re-
grets is not his own,) are the sole surviving repre-
sentatives of the oldest and purest stock in Europe
— perhaps in the world.

No maps or plans accompany the work ;
our author refers us, in his preface, to Findley's
Classical Atlas, as being " the best collection of
classical maps for its size that has hitheito appear-
ed." We cannot help thinking that the general
reader, who requires Professor Anthon's work
chiefly as a book of reference, would have been
better pleased with a few maps, representing, on
a small scale, so much of the world as Ptolemy
knew of.

History of William the Conqueror : By .Jacob
Abbott, with engravings. New York : Harper
& Brothers.

Mr. Abbott has, it seems, determined to become
the Plutarch of young readers. His series of bio-
graphical sketches is one of the most useful pro-
ductions of the age. We would recommend it
not only as furnishing instruction in a pleasing and
intelligible shape for the young, but alto as a text
book for many who have pasted the age of £ys-

1850.]

Critical Notices.

829

tematic tuition, and desire to gain information,
without overtasking minds harassed with the daily
cares of life. Nay, more : we feel certain that
Bcholars, even of unusual attainments, could no-
where refresh their historical recollections so use-
fully and agreeably as in the pages of Mr.
Abbott. The publishers, too, have neglected no-
thing to make these little books acceptable in out-
ward form. They are uniformly bound in a neat
and appropriate dress. The title-pages are bright
with gold, and many colored arabesques, and the
cuts with which they abound, are worthy of ar-
tists of much higher pretensions. Those in the
History of William the Conqueror, signed " W.
Roberts," are beautiful specimens of art.

Iconographic Encyclopedia of Science, Litera-
ture, and Art. Rudolph Garrigue, No. 52 Bar-
clay street, New York.

We have lying before us Part 5th of this admi-
rable Encyclopedia. The illustrations of this por-
tion are chiefly of Natural History ; inconographs
of fish, serpents, lizards and birds, exquisitely engra-
ved. This work is, in its way, beyond praise. In
a previous number we have given a full account
of it, with terms of subscription. It must have
been gotten up at a vast expense. Every thing of
interest in the entire range of art and science will
be represented and described in this traly Encyclo-
pedic work. The price of each number is one
dollar; and contains twenty quarto plates, covered
with elaborate engravings.

The Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey.
Edited by his son, the Rev. Charles Cuthbert
Southey, M. A., Curate of Plumbland, Cum-
berland. New York : Harper & Brothers.
Robert Southey had passed the meridian of life,
and was in the full enjoyment of great literary re-
nown, when he undertook, in a series of letters to
his friend, John May, to retrace the eventful story
of his life. The opening chapters of this autobio-
graphy, which the work now before us contains,
may be considered as models of this style of wri-
ting, and are distinguished for an easy garrulous-
ness, and a digressive fondness of detail, which
no one would have expected at the hands of
" Bob Southey, raving." Some of the characters,
whichhis masterly hand has sketched in these ram-
bling recollections of early life, though strongly
marked with the stamp of truth, are so original,
or, at least, so unusual, that they would furnish
matter for any quantity of novels. The portrait
of his uncle, William Tyler, would be accounted
a piece of rare good fortune by some writers of
fiction. The early indications of Southey's genius
do not lose any of their value lor being told by
himself Many dramatic writers would do well to
take warning froin the words of little Bob
Southey, when he was about eight or nine years
old : " It is the easiest thing in the world to write
a play ; for, you know you have only to think
what you would say, if you were in the place of
the characters, and to make them say it." Only
the precocious child was not aware that this fa-
culty of being able to place oneself in the stead of

an imaginary character, is one of the loftiest attri-
butes of genius.

It is to be deeply regretted that the author of
Kehama did not continue these recollections down
to a late period of his life. His son, who takes up
the unfinished theme, suggests that the sensitive
bard shrank from the further prosecution of a task,
which, at the particular period where the " Recol-
lections" end, was attended by circumstances of
a painful nature. The vast number of Southey's
own letters which the Curate of Plumbland inter-
venes in his narrative, gives it ahnost the air of an
autobiography.

Dictionary of Mechanics, Engine Work, and
Engineering. Oliver Byrne, Editor. D. Ap-
pleton & Co. : New York. 1850.
The Messrs. Appletons have been for some timo
employing the ability of very learned tran.slators
and compilers upon this truly elegant and valua-
ble publication. We understand that they have
invested a very large sum of money in the under-
taking, and from the specunens before us we have
formed the highest opinion of the value and success
of their enterprise. Every thing in mechanics is
here fully explained, and illustrated with extremely
elegant illustrations, with lettered explanations, as
accurate as modern attention can make them, and
almost rendering the letter press unnecessary.
The most complicated machinery of cloth weav-
ing, even, of steam engines, the internal construc-
tion of boilers and furnaces, are minutely described.
The number before us, which is the second of the
series, contains a minute and expanded description
of the Croton aqueduct. Every portion of that ex-
traordinary work being described and represented
with the minutest care. This work is a desidera-
tum, the most elegant thing of its kind, and if car-
ried out in the spirit of its commencement, the most
valuable. Its form is large octavo, exquisitely
printed on fine paper. The separate numbers are
sold for 25 cents each.

Elements of Natural Philosophy. A Text Book
for Academies and Colleges. By Alonzo
Gray, A. M., Professor of Natural Phdoso-
phy, &c., in the Brooklyn Female Academy, —
Author of Elements of Chemistry, &c. Il-
lustrated by 360 wood cuts. New York; Har-
per & Brothers. 1850.

We have not had leisure to examine this com-
pilation or to estimate its particular merits as com-
pared with others of its kind. The principles of
Natural Philosophy are set forth and illustrated
by the author very clearly and concisely. It has
evidently been prepared by an experienced teacher ;
and condenses into a small space a vast amount of
information.

Fire-Side Stories. By Mrs. Ellis, Author of

Hearts and Homes, Women of England, &c.

New York : D. Appleton & Co. 1850.

This work contains four stories or novelettes:

" The Minister's Family," " First Impressions,"

" Somervdle Hall," and " The Rising Tide." The

celebrity of the very talented authoress will ensure

them a reading.

S30

Critical Notices.

[March, 1850.

The Modern Housewife or Menagere. Compri-
sing nearly 1000 receipts. By Alexis Soyer,
author of the " Gastronomic Regenerator." Ed-
ited by an American Housekeeper. New York :
D. Appleton & Co. 1850.

It would require a year's acquaintance with
such a book as this, and a much more extensive
knowledge of cookery than is expected in an edi-
tor, to pronounce upon its merits. The name of
Soyer, a celebrated cook, attached to it, will en-
sure its popularity. It contains an immense num-
ber of economic and judicious receipts for the pre-
paration of every meal of the day, with those of
the nursery and sick room ; together with mi-
nute directions for family management in all its
branches ; and if it goes near to fulfil the promise
of its title page, must be a perfect treasure for
house-keepers.

Philo. An Evangeliad. By the author of " Mar-
garet," a Tale of the Real and Ideal. Boston :
Phillips, Sampson & Co. 1850.

A good neighbor who plants an offence upon
his door-step, need not expect visitors ; and a poet
who occupies the first ten pages of his poem with
the most flat, insufferable common-place, need
hardly expect readers. With feelings, we confess
it, of hope and expectation, we commenced the
reading of this poem, and with all sincerity and
gravity delivered the first few pages of it aloud ;
but as the effect was directly the reverse of that
intended by the author, we found it impossible to
proceed. Here we have an angel coming down
by appointment to meet a real Yankee, who enters
into a very common-place conversation with him,
and acts as a kind of cicerone to the heavenly vis-
itant,— showmg him a church, and saying " that is
a church," — showing him pews and a pulpit, and
assuring him that those are pews, and that that is
a pulpit. The angel understood English, and either
there are pews in heaven, which we seriously
doubt — at least, not straight backed ones — or the
angel had a vague notion of the meaning of the
words pew and pulpit out of his dictionary, else
there were little profit in telling him that this was
a pew and that was a pulpit. But the absurdity
of the thing is too broad for comment, and the
author who could perpetrate such nonsense, is
either hoaxing us, or he is a solemn trifler. This
entire Evangeliad, we take it, is a mistake. The
author has a theory that the ideal is to be sought
in the real, but he entirely overlooks the distinction
between the real and the common-place ; a mor-
tal sin in poetry.

New York ; Past, Present, and Future : By E.
Porter Belden, Projector of the " Model of
New York." New York : George P. Putnam.
1850.

In this work Mr. Belden has furnished the tra-
veller in New York with a full statistical account

of everything noticeable in the great metropolis
It is a complete and satisfactory strangei"'s guide.
One half of the volume is occupied by advertise-
ments, directing the stranger to the best stores and
wholesale business establishments. The work is
illustrated by excellent steel engravings of the
principal buildings, and has an excellent map of
the city. Mr. Belden's opportunities lor the pre-
paration of such a work have been, to our certain
knowledge, at least equal to those of any one
of our citizens. It is a small volume, very
neatly printed.

The Fountain of Living Waters. In a series of
sketches. By a Layman. New York : George
P. Putnam. 1850.

This work is a series of religious meditations,
illustrated by a very excellent wood cut of a scene
on the North River.

Memoirs of the Life and Writings of the Bev.
Thomas Chalmers : By his son-m-law, the Rev.
William Hanna, L. L. D. In 3 volumes.
Vol 1. New York: Harper &, Brothers, Pub-
lishers. 1850.

The publishers have sent us the first volume of
this work. It will be received with interest by
the Evangelical churches of America. It is unne-
cessary here to attempt any criticism, or to make
any remark upon it.

A Romance of the Sea Serpent ; or, the Icthyo-
saurus. Also, a collection of the Ancient and
Modern Authorities, with Letters from Disting-
uished Merchants, and Men of Science. Cam-
bridge : John Bartlett. 1849.

This is a very droll book : one-third story, one-
third poetry, and the rest notes. We presume
that every person who has ever seen the sea ser-
pent, off Manhattan, or elsewhere, will desire to
have a look at this book about him.

The Mirror of the Patent Office, and National
Cyclopedia of Improvements of the City of
Washington : William Greer & Co., No. 177
Broadway, New York. 1849.

This, as its name purports, is a quarto publica-
tion, coming out in numbers, and containing illus-
trated descriptions of new and important inven-
tions.

[ We are compelled, for want of room, to omit
noticing a number of valuable books, sent ns
by the publishers, but which we reserve for our
succeeding number.]

Dagi'<'T3y Bxady

Mecz "by P.MWlielpley.

n S.RBPHK.IENTATTW, FROM I>EI!NSYLV^NJ21

THE

AMERICAN REVIEW,

No. XXVIII.

FOR APRIL, 1850.

SOUTHERN VIEWS OF EMANCIPATION AND OF THE
SLAVE TRADE.

INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.

If the conduct of the Northern and
Southern extremes of the two factions in
Congress is to be taken as an index of the
state of feeling on the subject of slavery in
the country at large, our hopes of a settle-
ment of this pernicious and destructive
controversy should be faint indeed. As it
has arisen not so much from contrariety of
interest as fi'om opposition of sentiment, —
the interests of the nation, strictly con-
sidered, being bound up in the welfare of
the South, — the remedy to be apphed should
be sought in the sources of the disease.
The disease is a controversy arising from
speculative opinion and ambition ; the
remedy is in a modification of opinion by a
suitable array of facts and arguments.
These facts and these arguments must
be furnished by moderate and discreet
minded persons on hoik sides. We here
present our readers with two articles ;
both of them by gentlemen practically fa-
miliar with the institution of slavery ; and
indeed, educated in the society under which
that institution is tolerated. We have
no apology to oflFer, if any were de-
manded by our Northern readers, for the
introduction of these articles. For the
peace and security of the country it is just,
it is necessary that slaveholders should speak
for themselves, and should, moreover, be
heard, and their arguments deliberately
weighed. It is not the custom in free

VOL. V. NO. IV. NEW SERIES.

States to condemn unheard, either a man
or an institution.

Our own opinions, in regard to the
powers of Congress in legislating for the
territory are well known, and have been
sufficiently explained. In the first of the
two articles which we submit to our readers
it is argued, as it seems to ourselves, con-
clusively, that the State sovereignties not
only have a perfect right, but ought to
make stringent laws against the importation
of slaves into their territories ; and that the
slave trade in the District of Columbia
may, and ought to be, suppressed by the
authority of the General Government. The
author of that ai'ticle is a large slaveholder
in the State of Mississippi, and is by birth
and education a Southern man. We have
the best reason to believe that he speaks
the sentiment of the majority in his own
State. We are constrained, however, to
differ from him, in the distinction which he
makes between the propriety of the exer-
cise of the power of Congress for the pre-
vention of slavery in the territories. It
seems to our own view an unnecessary dis-
tinction. Since slavery does not exist in
New Mexico, California, and the Great
Basin of Deseret, the de facto govern-
ments of those regions, whether lodged
in Congress, or in the people of the terri-
tories, or in territorial organization, have, as
it seems to us, an unquestionable right,
as a regulation of police^ just as the State
sovereignties have that right for States, and

332

Southern Views of Slavery,

[April,

the general government for its District, to
prohibit the introduction of slaves within
their limits.

The objection of our author to the em-
ployment of legislative authority for the
emancipation of slaves, is answered by the
fact that precedent is already in favor of
such employment ; that State legislatures
in the North have abolished slavery in
their States, and then- acts are held to be
salid. Whether the Government in any
State has or has not the power to establish
or abolish, is a question to be settled by the
spirit of that government, and by the com-
mon understanding.

California is now denied admission to
the Union because she has incorporated a
prohibition of slavery in her Constitution.
Texas was admitted with a clause estab-
lishing slavery, so incorporated, and with
a provision for the creation of two or
more slave States out of her territory.
The faction have chosen to forget this ;
their struggle is for power. The ex-
treme Southern party, under the lead of
Mr. Calhoun, have made the somewhat
singular announcement, that unless the
main political power of the country is
lodged in their hands, they cannot remain
in the Union. This announcement has, at
least, the virtue of directness and simpli-
city ; unless they have an equality or a
majority in the Senate, they cannot stay in
the Union ; they must be able, at any mo-
ment, to block the wheels of legislation, to
cut oif the supplies, to create war or peace,
to elect a President to their mind, to pur-
chase and possess, and divide, new territo-
ries, to hold the patronage of the central

government — in a word, 400,000 citizens
in the Southern States, or rather, to speak
correctly, the minority of that 400,000,
have declared that they must either govern
or rebel ; there is no alternative. It is an
announcement unparalleled in modern his-
tory. Such, if we rightly understand it,
is the position of the extreme Southern
party. It is an aristocratic position ; it
does not commend itself to the favor or to
the respect of the country.

This making the admission of California
the test question, has betrayed the entire
system and method of the opposition.
I'heirs is simply a struggle for political pre-
dominance ; that they will govern the
Union or they will destroy it. Meantime,
if we ever for a moment doubted its sta-
bility, we now hold the Union to be
secure. We have ceased to apprehend
its dissolution. The declaration of the
ultimatum of the faction has destroyed at
once its respectability and its power. A
republican people who cannot submit them-
selves to the ordinary chances and contin-
gencies— to the common movements of
events in a Republic, have a dreary his-
tory before them. They are no longer fit
for self-government who cannot abide
by its necessities and its laws. It is, in-
deed, fortunate for them that they are not
the sole citizens and masters of an empire,
since, among themselves, and in their own
divisions, the minority would have no al-
ternative but war. With such a desperate
resolution to rule or perish, how brief and
how terrible a page would be theirs in the
history of the decline and fall of great
Republics.

SLAVERY AND THE SLAVE TRADE IN THE DLSTRICT OF COLUMBIA.

BY A MISSISSIPPIAN.

Digression and irrelevancy in the dis-
cussion of political issues a^e character-
istic of American writers and speakers.
In Congress, especially, debate is rarely
confined to the question under consider-
ation. Collateral points even, which, in
an assembly collected of wisdom, true

taste would warn us to leave to infer-
ence mainly, faUto aiford scope suiEciently
ample. Matters totally disconnected with
those at issue, are tortuously introduced to
make up the speech. Hence, on a memor-
able occasion in the Senate, Mr. W^ebster
found it necessary, in order to be properly

1850.]

Southern Views of Slavery.

333

understood, to commence his celebrated
speech on Foot's Resolution, in reply to
Mr. Haynes, by requesting the Secretary to
read the resolution under discussion.
Everybody recollects the beautiful and ap-
propriate figure of the mariner tossed about
for days in the open seas without chart or
compass, by which he illustrated the digres-
sion. This happened more than twenty
years ago, when, it may be supposed, de-
magoguic influences were less common than
at this day. And, indeed, if a speaker
were to rise in his seat, now-a-days, and
deliver a speech of twenty or thirty minutes
length, confined solely to the topic of de-
bate, without once calling to his aid irrele-
vant party issues, he would be stigmatized
by reporters and lobby members as empty-
headed and stupid. Discm'sive and inap-
propriate discussion has grown so common,
that it may now be regarded as a settled
precedent in Congressional economy.

No more cogent illustration of the truth
and justice of the above general remarks
may be cited, than the history of the debates
in Congress on the Wilmot Proviso. A
discussion of the power of Congress to pro-
hibit or regulate slavery in the Territories
of the United States has opened, in the
course of the debate, the entire question of
slavery, in all its points, and placed it in
every conceivable attitude. Prominent
among these irrelevant issues is one of very
startling moment, not because of its com-
plexity or obscurity, but because of the
petty and contemptible jealousy which per-
vades both sections of the Union concern-
ing its permanent adjustment. It will, of
course, be inferred that we allude to that of
the powers of Congress over slaves and the
subject of slavery within the District of
Columbia. On this point, all candid and
discriminating minds must admit that, in
discussing the question, the South has
claimed more than is just and constitution-
al, and that the North has chosen an ill
time and showed an improper and intole-
rant spirit in asserting and claiming what
is doubtless just and constitutional. We
cannot think that true patriotism or devo-
tion to right and justice, have had any in-
fluence with the majority in the introduc-
tion or discussion of this subject. The go-
verning influences, in both cases, we fear,
have been of a different and far less meri-
torious character. On the side of the

North it seems to be an ill-timed and un-
worthy attempt to wreak its prejudices
upon an institution which, to say the least,
is recognized, if not by name, at least de
facto^ and protected from invasion by the
federal constitution. On the part of the
South it has been an imwary and hazard-
ous attempt to make political capital at
home of a question that embodies elements
of the most dangerous nature, as regards
the welfare of the Union, and to feed a
flame, of which the calmest and most mo-
derate politician may stand in dread. But
it has been our pride and pleasure to ob-
serve that, in both sections of the Union,
the conservative national whig party, as a
body, has asserted and inaintained a course
of conduct unquestionably conservative and
national. By moderation and dignity, by
wisdom and true patriotism, the party has
well sustained its ancient and honorable
character.

In a like spirit, it is trusted, and with a
mind beset on eliciting and expressing the
truth, we now proceed to present, in a con-
densed and summary shape, our views and
opinions. The true opinion, as we con-
ceive, may be best arrived at, by first pro-
pounding, and then endeavoring to answer
two leading questions ; which, it is believed
embrace the entire matter of debate :

\st. Has Congress the right^ under the
Constitution of the United States and
deeds of cession from the States of Wary-
land and Virginia^ to abolish slavery in
the District of Columhia 1

2d. Has Congress the right or power^
under the same instruments.^ to pass laivs of
a Municij'al or Police character concern-
ing slaves., and to regulate or prohibit the
slave traffic in said District 1

The first of these questions we do not at
all hesitate to answer in the negative, and
shall state briefly the reason and grounds
on which that answer may be founded.

The abolition of slavery in any State,
District, or Territory, within the limits of
the United States, cannot be a matter of
legislation, because it involves rights of
persons and of property which existed pre-
viously to the establishment of the govern-
ment, and which not only constitute a
principal element in the government of all^
but are beyond the reach of legislative ma-
jorities. The legislature of a State ought
not to decree the abolition of slavery. It

834

Southern Views of Slavery.

[April,

is a body of limited powers, limited and de-
fined, too, by an instrument wLich is
formed by the Sovereign power in conven-
tion. This Sovereign power is the people.
The legislature would have no more right
or authority, unwarranted or unempowered
by any previous form of assent from the
people, to pass a law modifying the entire
social system, than it would have to pass a
law establishing or abolishing the Christian
or Jewish form of worship, or the tenures
of land, or the right of self-defence, or the
right to bequeath or to inherit. These are
all inherent properties and elements of go-
vernment, and belong, under our system,
to that class of powers and natural rights
which are of none the less force and effect
because partly unwritten and undefined in
the original compact, and which are re-
moved beyond the reach of Assemblies
whose powers are limited and differently
intended. Slavery, as it exists in the sepa-
rate States, is equally entitled to be thus
classed. The power, therefore, abruptly
to abolish such an institution, cannot
belong to a state or national legislature.
It is essentially a prerogative of the sove-
reignty of the people themselves. It is in
the province of a convention of that power
from which emanates the constitutions
both of federal and state governments. A
contrary action or decision, vesting such
power either in Congress as regards the
District of Columbia, or in any of our
State legislatures, would be to create a
ruinous instability in property in both in-
stances. It would be committing the most
cherished and sacred of all rights, namely,
that of modifying the fundamental relation-
ship of man to man, to a bare majority in
Assemblies notoriously impulsive, and fluc-
tuating in opinion, and always affected by
local prejudices, and educational predilec-
tions. It would be placing individuals and
entire communities at the mercy of parti-
zans and fanatics, of opposite opinions, look-
ing neither to justice or reason or to any-
thing beyond their own ambitious aims and
violent purposes.

The second question must be regarded
by all candid and dispassionate persons in
a widely different sense, inasmuch that it
involves matters and issues of a very dif-
ferent character, and which are totally ir-
relevant to the first.

We hold that the powers of Congress as

concerns the subject of regulating slavery
in the District of Columbia, are not at all
analagous to the powers of the same body
as applied to the Territories of the United
States. Conceding the power in the one
case does not and cannot necessarily em-
brace the other. In the first, the power is
explicitly given and is clearly derivable
from all the sources where it ever belonged
in law. In the last it is not to be found in
any bond, compact, or conveyance of any
description, and must be left to vague in-
ference, and ever remain an obscure and
vexed question.

The power to regulate the slave trafiic
in any or in all its branches, (save one
perhaps,) is a matter entirely of police,
and belongs properly to legislative bodies
in their capacity of police conservators.
Even in our State legislatures a wide
discretion is claimed and often exer-
cised on this subject. But no one who
takes the trouble to examine the Constitu-
tion of the United States, defining the spe-
cial powers of Congress, or the deeds of
cession from the States of Maryland and
Virginia, can justly or successfully question
the unlimited discretion of Congress con-
cerning all police regulations of slaveiy
within the District of Columbia. The ten
miles square is ceded not to the United
States, as are the territories, but to the
" Congress and Government of the United
States." Where territories have been re-
linquished by any of the States, or acquir-
ed by purchase, the conveyance has ever
been to the United States and for their
" benefit," and, in the first instance, a
parenthesis has always been made " in-
cluding" the State which thus cedes. Ter-
ritories acquired by conquest are conveyed
by treaty to the Government of the United
States, and thus become the property alike
of all the communities which form that
government. In none of these cessions is
Congress a specified party. But, on the
other hand, " the Congress" is a joint and
specified party with ^the " Government of
the United States" in the ownership of the
District of Columbia. Now, as all must
very well understand, the Government of
the United States is made up of three co-
ordinate branches or departments, each se-
parately defined, and charged vt'ith separate
and distinct functions. Of these. Congress is
only the legislative power — subject in its

1850.]

Southern Views of Slavery.

335

action, within certain limits, to the check of
both the Executive and Judicial depart-
ments. Yet " the Congress" is placed in-
dependent of, and as a joint and equal part-
ner with the __" Government of the United
States" in the ownership of the District,
and its majority is thus the " full and ab-
solute" arbiter and conservator in all legis-
lative functions, excepting only in so far
as restrained by the provisos and stipula-
tions of the original cession.

This proposition may impress some per-
sons as being rather outre and metaphysi-
cal, if not erroneous. But we venture to
conceive, that when measured by the sense
and words of the deed of cession from Mary-
land and by the same in the Constitution of
the United States, the fair and legitimate
inference will be in favor of its entire cor-
rectness. To this end we deem it advisable
to transcribe the said deed of cession in
full, as well as the language of the Consti-
tution, concerning the powers of Congress
in the District of Columbia.

" Be it enacted by the General Assembly of
the State of Maryland : That all that part of
the said territory called Columbia, (as descri-
bed in the previous section) which lies within
the limits of this State, shall be, and the same
is hereby acknowledged to be forever ceded
and relinquished to the Congress and Govern-
ment of the United States in Jull and exclusive
right and exclusive jurisdiction^ as well of soil
as of persons residing or to reside thereon,
pursuant to the tenor and effect of the eighth
section of the first article of the Constitution
of the United States : Provided that nothing
herein contained shall be so construed as to
vest in the United States any right of property
in the soil, as to effect the rights of individ-
uals therein, otherwise than the same shall be
transferred by such individuals to the United
States."

The italics in the above are our own ;
and now, we say, let that grant be consid-
ered as it may, the close and candid rea-
soner will be forced to infer that Congress
is a separate and distinct party in the tran-
saction, independent of its co-ordinate con-
nexion with the Government of the United
States. The laws of Congressional majori-
ties as has been already intimated, are sub-
ject both to be vetoed and over-ruled by the
other two departments, but these last are
motionless until Congress shall first have
acted. Being, therefore, an independent
partner, as well as a partner by virtue of

its co-ordinate connexion with the Govern-
ment of the United States, and being also
the active and motive branch of the Gov-
ernment, we safely conclude that Congress,
thus doubly interested, is on rather more
than an equality w^ith the Government of
the United States in the ownership of and
jurisdiction over the District of Columbia,
and is, in fact, the main arbiter and con-
servator of its destiny, civil and political.
The difference between the two proposi-
tions thus submitted, is simply this, viz:
that slavery being in existence as a domes-
tic institution within the ten miles square
when Congress accepted the deed of ces-
sion, the relation between master and slave
was distinctly recognized ; Congress is,
therefore, fairly estopped from aholishing
the institution without previously expres-
sed assent from the people, or from passing
any law to destroy the right of the owner
in the property of his slave, as acknow-
ledged by the acceptance. But, in the
second place, the power so to regulate
those relations as to abridge or prohibit the
general and indiscriminate traffic in slaves,
within the limits of the District, being es-
sentially a matter of police and legislation,
and being clothed with " full and absolute"
power in legislating for said District, Con-
gress has the undoubted right to interfere
so as to modify or abolish such traffic, and
that too without any appeal to the wUl or
wishes of the State Governments.

But, continuing our argument on the
second proposition, the powers of Con-
gress within the limits of the federal dis-
trict are yet more explicitly defined than
in the deed of cession above recited. The
eighth section of the first article of the
Constitution of the United States declares :
" That Congress shall have power to ex-
ercise exclusive jurisdiction, in all cases
whatsoever, over such district (not exceed-
ing ten miles square) as may, by cession
of particular States, and by the acceptance
of Congress, become the seat of Govern-
ment of the United States.

It must be admitted, we think, that
this, literally, is a sweeping clause. It
could not well have been framed so as to
convey larger powers. It is not even qual-
ified. It can be limited only by bringing
the powers thus sweepiugly conferred to
the test of established precedent, and natu-
ral or pre-existing rights. In the first in-

336

Southern Views of Slavery.

[April

stance, the deed is " full and absolute ;"
in the second, the acceptance carries along
with it, under the supreme law of the
land, " exclusive jurisdiction in all cases
whatsoever." It is, indeed, a clause in
which the most biassed and fastidious
stickler will find little to restrict the dis-
cretion of Congress in any matter of legis-
lation ; and that the slave traffic is a mat-
ter of legislation no intelligent reader will
venture to deny. It has been claimed as
such, certainly, by every government in
which slavery has existed, ancient and
modern. That of Rome, which gave to
the master the power even of life and limb
over his slave, always claimed and exer-
cised exclusive control over the slave
trafiic. But it could not destroy, by sim-
ple legislative majority, the relation between
master and slave, nor deprive the first of
the labor and value of the last. Greece,
as a Government, was anxious to rid the
country of the slavery of the Helots, long
before the body of the people were either
prepared for, or willing to favor such rid-
dance. The Government, therefore, claim-
ed and exercised the undeniable right of
all governments to abridge and prohibit
the indiscriminate and unnatural trafiic in
the unfortunate beings whom she had en-
slaved, but it dared not, even in that early
age, to infringe the right of property by
destroying the relation itself. Russia, al-
though a sombre and quiet despotism,
where all legislative power is lodged with
the Czar, would not venture, perhaps, by
a peremptory ukase, to abolish serfdom
within its limits ; yet the slave trafiic is
entirely and most efiectually prohibited,
and the serfs go along with the land on
which they were born, and all their local
and family attachments are sacredly pre-
served. The rash and unjust exercise of
the first power, even by the Autocrat of
Russia, would kindle a flame of resent-
ment that would spread quickly from the
Don to the Vistula, and an insulted peo-
ple would bring down vengeance on even
that august head, which, they believe,
wears its crown by divine right and will.
In the exercise of the last power, however,
which is conformable both to justice and
custom, no opposition was encountered,
and a general acquiescence evidenced its
popularity.

Under our Government of sovereign

States and defined powers. Congress is en-
tirely restricted from the exercise of this
power, as concerns the States, but its
power over the subject is " full and abso-
lute," when applied to its " exclusive
jurisdiction" over the District of Colum-
bia. Neither Congress, nor State Le-
gislatures, have the power to abolish
slavery within their respective jurisdic-
tions ; but neither would be transcending
their legitimate powers, as we humbly con-
ceive, to pass such laws as could tend to
prohibit indiscriminate trafiic in slaves,
without regard to number or social rela-
tions.

It must be borne in mind that slaves,
both under the Federal and State Constitu-
tions, as well as by the laws of each, are
considered as being something more than
mere property. That they are {de facto)
property, no one will venture to gainsay ;
but they are a peculiar species of property.
They are not at all regarded as irrational
animals, or perishable live stock, as horses,
or swine, or cattle. Some have been weak
enough to urge and advocate this fallacious
point, assuming, with singular hardihood
and pertinacity, that which no person of
ordinary information will sanction.

Slaves are regarded, both under the Con-
stitution and the laws, as persons also,
and, in some sense, as members of organ-
ized society, though certainly and properly
excluded from the dignity of citizenship,
and from civil privileges. They are regu-
larly apportioned, in accordance with the
Federal Constitution, (in the ti-ue spirit of
that great American system of protection
and encouragement, which reaches and
covers every species of labor, a system long
upheld, and ardently cherished by the con-
servative Whig party of the Union,) for
full representation in the Congress of the
United States. They are entitled to pro-
tection, under the law, in life and limb,
and are, individually, amenable for any in-
fractions of the criminal code. They
are shielded, by the law, from all cruel
and unusual punishments at the hands of
bad masters. In all these is exhibited
very clearly the wide distinctions between
negroes transferable, by sale, from one
master to another, and all other kinds of
property. This view of the subject is very
ably and elaborately expounded by Mr.
Madison in No. 54 of the " Federalist."

1850.]

Southern Views of Slavery.

837

He there expresses himself thus : " But
we must deny the fact that slaves are
considered merely as property, and in no
respect whatever as persons. The true
state of the case is, that they partake of
both of these characters. * • • It is the
character bestowed on them by the laws
under which they live ; and it will not be
denied that these are the proper criterion.
The slave is regarded by the law as a mem-
ber of society, not as a part of the irra-
tional creation ; as a moral person, not as
a mere article of property. The Federal
Constitution, therefore, decides with great
propriety on the case, when it views them
in the mixed character of persons and of
property."

This leaves a clear inference that an in-
discriminate traffic in slaves is not to be
regarded as beyond the reach of legal in-
terference and restriction, or as the same
with that of horses and cattle. Congress
may not posses the power to abolish slave
dealing in all its branches,' but it does
not follow from this that the ri^ht to regu-
late and restrict the trade is prohibited.
On the other hand, it is clearly within the
legitimate province of Congress to do so,
provided no legislative steps are taken to
infringe the rights of resident owners in the
property of their slaves. Congress, how-
ever, under the deeds of cession, is restrict-
ed, on this subject, only as regards resi-
dent owners. In the case of transient
persons and traders, an arbitrary and per-
verse stretch of power might easily give a
different aspect to these relations.

We feel assured that no one will deny
the power of Congress to prohibit a bank-
ing company from New York or Delaware
from establishing a bank within the limits
of the District, either by positive enact-
ment to that eff'ect, or by refusing them a
corporate existence. How, then, can it be
denied that the same body has the same
sort of power to interdict a slave dealer
from Maryland or Virginia from carrying
on his odious traffic within the same limits ?
Or how, under the Constitution and law,
can Congress be denied the authority and
right to interfere even so far as to regulate
or restrict the trade as between resident
owners themselves .'' It must be remem-
bered, that, unlike any other legislative
assembly in the Union, Congress possesses
here " full and absolute" power, and that

its " jurisdiction" within the District limits
is not only independent and unqualified,
but "exclusive in all cases whatsoever."
There is nothing in the Federal Constitu-
tion to prohibit the abolition of the institu-
tion by Congress, beyond the right of all
citizens to claim protection for his proper-
ty. Still less is there to be found any
clause or enactment denying the right to
abridge and restrict the traffic. Neither
are such prohibitory or restrictive clauses
to be found in the deeds of cession, for in
these, except only as relates to owners of
" soil," the power of Congress is totally
unlimited. It is even a question, in view
of the broad and unqualified powers thus
conferred on the Congress within the Dis-
trict limits both by the Constitution and
the deeds, whether the right to prohibit the
trade in all its features can be successfully
confuted or denied } But thus far we do
not pretend to go in this article.

But there are other views in which this
subject may be argued. The ten miles
square must be considered as belonging
exclusively to the "Congress and Govern-
ment of the United States," and not, as do
the Territories, to the United States, over
which Congress can only exercise trust
powers. Against any improper or unequal,
or discriminating, legislation by Congress
as concerns the last, the States would have
a right to protest. But as concerns legis-
lation by Congress within the District,
they are estopped. Resolutions, intro-
duced before Congress, and intended to
do away with the slave trade in the said
District, are nothing to us of the South, in
the capacity of States. We are unwilling
to admit that our right of self-regulation
can be thus endangered. We should as
soon think of fearing the effects of the re-
cent emancipation in the French West
Indies : and we have about as much right
to protest in the last case as in the first.
On the contrary, we incline to believe that
the interference by Congress with the slave
trade in the District would result benefi-
cially to the negro slave in the States. If
the traffic was prohibited there, and those
loathsome and disgusting depots of degraded
and distressed humanity were effectually
broken up within the District limits, it
would force the Southern slavcholding
States to protect themselves by adopting
similar laws, or else their soil would be

338

Southern Views of Slavery.

[April,

flooded witli an inundation of traders with
tlieir long, thick gangs of wretched crea-
tures, hurried to market to avoid total
losses. There is no telling what would be
the consequences, if, in the event of such
law passed by Congress, the slaveholding
States should fail to adopt similar laws.
The wanton cruelties and revolting bar-
barities of the British West Indies would
speedily be re-enacted in a region where
quiet, and content, and jolly cheerfulness
prevail among white and black. The
land would swarm with hordes of sullen
and desperate creatures, torn suddenly
from home and from family, and ready for
any act of massacre, or for any kind of
death. The whites, driven to fury by the
fall of property, and by this repulsive in-
novation of their domestic arrangements,
would soon grow discontented ; the better
and more polished portion would endeavor
to leave the State ; and anarchy more ap-
palling than ever before exampled, would
then become the order of the day. But
would the Southern States fail, in such
event, to pass such laws .'' We hazard
little in saying that they would not.
They value their homes, their property,
and their domestic association far too
highly, thus unwarily to jeopardize the
peace and security of all. In Mississippi,
especially, opinion is even now rife for the
passage of such laws ; and had the eman-
cipation question, lately submitted to the
people of Kentucky, prevailed, a foreign
negro (by which we mean those of other
States and portions of the confederacy)
had never set foot on our soil. It is a set-
tled and cherished hope and desire with
many in this State, that the slave traffic
shall speedily terminate within its limits.
Already has it been declared, by resolution
of the Legislature, a public nuisance for
traders to expose their gangs of chained
human creatures within view of the capitol
of a sovereign State. The negroes now
owned in Mississippi are, in general,
thoroughly domesticated and happy as a
race, attached to home and their masters,
and they are the most cheerful and light-
hearted of human beings. There is no
State of the South where they are so com-
fortably provided for, so well treated, and
so amply protected by law. It is thought,
moreover, that the natural increase of those
now here, will be more than sufficient to

cultivate all our soil in a few years. Thus
situated, we have little cause to invite or
allure an influx of strangers and traders
with their living herds. We have every-
thing to lose, and nothing to gain, by such
a course of conduct. If, then, such action
by Congress, within a jurisdiction exclu-
sively its own, should induce a like action
on our part; should influence a movement
which would lead to consequences thus
beneficial to our interests and preposses-
sions, and which would have the effect of
strengthening slavery as a strictly domestic
institution in the States, and relieve it, at
the same time, of its most repulsive and
unwelcome feature, we would have little
cause for complaint. On the contrary, we
might very consistently contribute toward
bringing about so agreeable a state of things.

To recm' now to our original propositions,
we must reiterate the opinion, that while
the right to emancipate lies with the people
in their collective body in convention, — a
right they inherit from sources of power
older than the C onstitution or the laws, and
consequently of unassailable and impreg-
nable integrity as well as of superior mag-
nitude,— slaves, like all other kinds of
property, are subject, nevertheless, to le-
gislation for regulation. It would be surely
and strangely anomalous if they were not,
especially in that feature which we have
been more particularly employed in treat-
ing of.

Indeed, it may be further contended,
that Congress has far more power, under
the Constitution and deeds of cession, over
the subject of slavery in the District of
Columbia, than the Legislatures have in the
various States. The States are sovereign,
independent powers. The District of
Columbia, on the other hand, is not sove-
reign or independent. Its inhabitants are
isolated as regards their relations with the
different States or sovereign communities
which form the United States. They have
no voice either in the election of the Presi-
dent, or of the Congress which govern
them. They are passive subjects.

The people of a sovereign State possess
privileges, and claim immunities which the
people of the District do not enjoy. The
State Legislatures are not arbitrary, irre-
sponsible bodies. As regards the ten miles
square. Congress is entirely an arbitrary,
ixTesponsible body. Here, then, is a wide

1850.]

Southern Views of Slavery.

339

and vital difference, tlie grounds of which
can neither be controverted or denied.

But, more than all, the District of
Columbia is the neutral ground betwixt
the jarring and conflicting sections of the
confederacy. As applied within its limits,
the nature of the government undergoes a
change, and presents a new face. Sove-
reign power, unchecked and undefined, is
lodged elsewhere than in the people. An
assembly composed of representatives from
all other portions of the country, is its sole
owner and supreme arbiter. Taxation and
representation are here emphatically dis-
allied. One can be imposed without the
recognition or voice of the other ; and the
great principle which gave birth to Ameri-
can independence, and which has buUt up
one of the most powerful empires under the
sun, is thus signally repudiated and disre-
garded in a neutral territory, set apart for
the residence of the supreme powers.

But, independently of this paradoxical
fact, and being the neutral ground between
North and South, every reason is afforded
why all grounds of exception or offence to
the opinions and prejudices of both sections
should be peacefully removed. Congress
can never abolish slavery in the District
without abruptly transcending its legiti-
mate powers. This should be satisfaction
enough to us of the South.

The indiscriminate traffic in slaves, ex-
posing them for sale in droves, without re-
gard to family or attachments, and under
the very eye of men unaccustomed to such
sights, is odious in the extreme. It is a
custom not only foreign to the tastes and
prejudices of the Northern men, but is re-
volting as the most disgusting nuisance. It
is a repulsive and unwelcome sight to all.
It is generally regarded as an unseemly and
objectionable spectacle on the neutral
ground of a free republic, one half of which
in the capacity of sovereign States, has
abolished and repudiated all connexion
with the institution, excepting only in so
far as they are constitutionally bound to
protect the rights, in this respect, of the
slaveholding States. It is a custom barely
tolerated even in the States where slavery
exists as a domestic institution. In many
of these, — Mississippi prominent among
them — the introduction of slaves to vend
in large droves is prohibited by statute,
and made a penal offence. Why then

should we claim and contend for more in
the District, which belongs to Congress,
than is generally practised in our State
Governments } Or why perversely deny a
right to Congress so to regulate a traffic
carried on within its " exclusive jurisdic-
tion," as to make the same less objection-
able and odious to one half of its body }
It is a right belonging unquestionably to
the " Congress and Government of the
United States," and when they shall decide
to act under that right, where will we find
authority to prevent or successfully oppose
them .? We cannot call on the States, for
they would be stopped at the outset, for
want of formal and proper authority to in-
terfere in a matter which both the Consti-
tution and the law have removed beyond
the reach of their control. No right of
any sovereign State, no clause or portion
of the great federal compact would be in-
fringed by such action on the part of Con-
gress, within a territory owing allegiance
to it alone. The States, then, would
be left without the shadow of complaint or
aggrievance. We could not appeal to the
General Government, for, besides being the
offending party itself — if it be offence — it
can only move in such case by the terms of
the law, and that law will afford us no pre-
text for the call. The army and navy wiU
not be at our disposal, for we could not
make out a constitutional case of aggriev-
ance, or frame a proper exhibit to claim
them at the hands of the ExecutiA^e. If
we should attempt to bully or to threaten,
Congress might silence us at once by pro-
ducing the Constitution and deeds of ces-
sion, and by challenging us to show any
cause for questioning the supremacy of the
General Government within its proper
sphere and within its " exclusive jurisdic-
tion." They might also plead our favorite
doctrine of " hands off," or the rapidly ob-
taining principle of "non-intervention."
They would tell us to let them alone in
their " absolute and exclusive jurisdiction,"
and then they in turn will forbear to inter-
fere with ours. It will be time enough,
we think, to resort to all these extreme
remedies, and to others more extreme still,
when Congress shall seek to disturb the in-
stitution in the States. Even then we are
inclined to believe that remedies less harsh,
less extreme, and less repulsive than force
of arms, may be found to allay the tumult,

340

Southern Views of Slavery.

[April,

and afford redress. But in a case where
we can establish no right, found no protest,
and exhibit no authority to interfere ;
where, at the best, we would be so entirely
excuseless and helpless, reason and mature
reflection will tell us to pause and inquire
before we take the final, fatal step. Other-
wise we might chance to be placed in the
perplexing situation of the American army
before the broken gates of fallen Mexico,

or in the more ridiculous attitude of the
French army before those of Rome. We
might be found eager to inquire into the
cause of the tumult after all the mischief
had been done ; or, what is worse still, we
might be unable, when questioned by the
opposing party, to state the grounds or the
nature of our offence. J. B. C.

Longwood^ Miss., Jan. 1850.

LETTER ON SLAVERY AS A DOMESTIC INSTITUTION.

: ' '• BY A VIRGINIAN. "' ' ' '

To the Editor of the American Revieiv :

You are too old a politician and critic,
Mr. Editor, not to have recognized how
much of the uproar that daily distracts our
ears is the expression of passions venting
themselves on mistaken objects. Men set
up their image, their Guy Fawkes or Old
Noll, daub his features into a sufficiently
close resemblance to some ideal horror of
hideousness, and then with honest rage
scatter the parted members of the scare-
crow— straw, rags, and paint — to the four
winds of heaven. And you have seen the
multitude, after such an exploit, return
complacently to their homes, not doubting
that a labor worthy of Hercules had been
achieved

But this human propensity cannot ap-
pear to you, as it appears to some, a sub-
ject for laughter. Experience and philoso-
phy tell you that there is no other class of
questions half so likely to give occasion for
dangerous feud as those which arise from
defective vision. In proportion that a
quarrel is causeless, is it bitter. It follows
that whoever does anything to remove a
misapprehension, is engaged in the dis-
charge of duty. Pardon me, then, if on
this occasion I somewhat exceed the limits
of a familiar epistle. What I say, may
have no novelty. To you, indeed, some of
the facts I propose to mention may be so
well known as scarcely to appear deserving
of a formal statement ; but, sir, remember
that there are men less fortunate, whose
position does not lift them beyond the
reach of sectional prejudice. You vsdll not

misunderstand me. I boast no remarkable
extent of observation. What I have seen,
it is possible for any others to see, who go
near the object and view it with open eyes.
Let me add — for I would scorn to make
my testimony pass for more than it is
worth — that I have looked upon slavery
as a Southern man, yet I do believe (let who
pleases cry " credat Judaeus ") that I have
looked upon it without partiality.

Gentlemen at the North are in the habit
of expressing surprise at the state of South-
ern sentiment. The charitable allude to
the fact with sorrow — those of a harsh and
polemic turn triumph thereupon.

But what if I deny that the South fa-
vors Slavery 1

Immediately a torrent of questions is
poured forth. Whence this opposition to
the Proviso — to the abolishment of slavery
at the seat of Government } Whence, in
brief, this general sensitiveness which
shrinks from the lightest touch, and vehe-
mently repels any discussion trenching up-
on the obnoxious topic.

Let us first consider the fact — afterwards
it will perhaps not be difficult to account for
the need of a search to ascertain it. Those
who are worst informed must be aware that
at the time of the adoption of the Consti-
tution no part of the country exhibited a
warmer dislike of all avoidable restraint
upon human liberty than that part lying
south of Mason and Dixon's line. Virginia,
before the revolution, had struggled to the
utmost of her ability against the importa-
tion of the African bondman ; she had pro-

1850.]

Southern Views of Slavery.

341

tested to the British throne that " the in-
troduction of slaves — a trade of great in-
humanity— will, under its present encour-
agement, endanger the very existence of
your Majesty's American dominions," and
she had been excited by this cause as much
as by any other, to throw off the yoke
which rendered her attempts " to check so
pernicious a commerce" unavailing. We
have no reason to suppose that Virginia al-
tered her opinions, or lost her interest in
the matter upon becoming a free-agent.
This point rests upon such a mass of his-
torical evidence as to render reference and
quotation quite superfluous.

It may be assumed, then, that fifty years
ago the South was opposed to slavery .''
What could have brought about a retro-
gressive movement .? Has this last half-
century been one of silence and medieval
darkness .'' Has nothing been said, nothing
written, nothing thought upon the great
questions of Ethics and Politics .'' If we
suppose that Virginia and her neighboring
sisters have been sunk in stupefaction, sure-
ly the steam-driven presses of the North
have been at work day and night. Is it hint-
ed that many of these books — the offspring
of indiscreet zeal — may rather have disgus-
ted than convinced .? In candor I must
acknowledge that they are not ill fitted to
produce such an effect. A patient may
be sickened by even a savory morsel, when
it is obtruded in the dirty hands of an ofli-
cious nurse.

Let us not stop here, however, in the
enumeration of influences. Where have
our Southern youth, who have been growing
to manhood these fifty years, received their
early discipline. In great proportion — un-
til recently, I presume, almost universally —
at Northern institutions. It is unreasonable
to infer that at such schools they could learn
bigotry and barbarism. Has Gamaliel be-
come a teacher of heresy }

But the condition of the servant him-
self may afford a clue to the opinions of
the master. We know that in the time of
those revolutionary fathers, who preached
so manfully and so eloquently for human
rights, the body of the negro race were
subjected to an austere government such
as is not now experienced by one negro in
a hundred. At this day, it is thought a
duty to exercise a degree of care over their
bodies and their souls. They are well-fed

and well-clad. Opportunities are afforded
them to share the benefit of religious
teaching. Attempts are made to impart to
them the elementary branches of modern
education I, also, will venture to utter my
belief, that if these attempts were success-
ful* the course of instruction would not end
with the elementary branches. When
a slave is hired out, he is allowed (there
are exceptions, but I am speaking of the
prevalent practice) to select his master for
the year. At the end of that term, and
earlier if he be harshly treated, he may
choose another. If for any cause he dislike
his owner and is wilhng to take his chance
of meeting a better one, he mentions his
desire, and not unfrequently is indulged.
Suppose, however, the master do not choose
to part with him. The negro still has a
resource. He runs away, not for the pur-
pose of gaining freedom, for he often vol-
untarily limits his wanderings to a compass
of half-a-dozen miles radius. He is dis-
covered, nor does he look for any other
issue. His master is compelled to seek a
purchaser, and the fellow exults in the at-
tainment of his aim.

During sickness, he is tenderly and
oftentimes afiectionately nursed. When
well, he is not urged to exertions surpass-
ino- his strength. He has the Sabbath, and
more holidays beside, than his master, pro-
bably, can afibrd to take. Ample leisure is
allotted him for eating his meals and for
repose. That with respect to all these
particulars, there was a difference for the
worse in ancient times, may be established
to the satisfaction of any doubter by the
report of those old negroes who have lived
under both systems.

My Northern friend, perhaps, assents
willingly to all this, and replies in a signi-
ficant tone that it is easy to understand how
the slaveholder can be humane and unex-

* It has been asserted that the secure maiuten-
ance of slavery renders necessary the ignorance
of the slave. There seems little prospect of the
question's ever being tested in this country. Those
who have no disposition or no capacity to learu
cannot well be taught. Our helots are no'^^ Mes-
senians. Whatever wonder or grief may be felt
at the existence of a race with such characteris-
tics, I think the slaveholder may find a so'irce
of thankfulness iu reflecting that he is not obliged
to debar the human beings entrusted to his guar-
dianship from the opportunity of mental improve-
ment.

342

Southern Views of Slavery.

[April,

acting, since this is the means of increasing
his disposable stock. "The husbandman,"
continues such a penetrating censor, " has
discovered that warm shelter and an abun-
dance of nourishing food bring his cattle
into profitable condition, and you Souther-
ners proceed upon the same principle ! —
you are sedulously breeding your cattle for
the market." Allow me to assure the indi-
vidual who speaks or thinks thus, that he
is altogether in error. I can imagine the
look of incredulity and scorn which this ob-
servation is likely to provoke. But, good
Mr. Abhorrer, I do not require you to be-
lieve me implicitly, and nolens volens ! — aU
I ask is, that you should suppose, merely

/" for a moment, that I am telling the truth.
Knowing, as you do, that this charge against
the South has been reiterated times without
number, join to your knowledge the reali-
zation of the groundlessness of the charge.
Viewed in this light what opinion must be
entertained of it .? " Ah," says the Nor-
thern gentleman, " I cannot reaHze that it
is unfounded." No — you cannot — but
the slave-holding Southerner can and does.
He hears a reproach uttered, which, if true,
would overwhelm him with confusion ; he
, knows, and can appeal to his conscience
for confirmation that it is false. Forced
to observe his most earnest protestations
pass unheeded, or answered with sneers, is
it wonderful that he should become angry
and sullen .'' His only refuge seems to be
to retire within his castle and then to shut
and double-bar the door.

I do not mean to adopt this natural and

, tempting, but, as I think, injudicious re-
serve. My testimony may be lightly es-
teemed, but such as it is, I will not with-
hold it. Born and bred in a slaveholding
community, I affirm, that a slave-market,
in the sense in which the term is taken in
New England, does not, to my knowledge,
exist at the South. I have disavowed any
claim to an tmiversal observation, but on
this particular point at least, I may be re-
ceived as a competent witness, since my
information happens to be derived princi-
pally from that division of the Southern
country which is supposed to be most ob-
noxious to the accusation of rearing slaves
for the profit to result from a subsequent
sale. There is indeed a continual sable
stream flowing from the upper and longer
settled portion of the South to newer re-

gions in a lower latitude ; but usually the
master and his family accompany the party
of slaves. Landed possessions are sacrificed
and the instinct of home-attachment stifled,
in order that this tie, the strongest of all,
may not be severed. It is not a mercenary
spirit that so adjusts the balance, for the
owner would realize a pecuniary gain by
selling his slaves, for whom he could get a
large price, and retaining his land, intrin-
sically more valuable, but for which in its
present state, he receives only a very small
price.

Masters, however, do sometimes dispose
of their negroes : it is under the pressure
of necessity. One servant may so miscon-
duct himself that his example is injurious
to others. Again, a reverse of fortune may
occur (what region is unvisited by such re-
verses.') to compel a measure that inflicts
a sore pang upon the head of the family as
well as upon all the rest of its members.

But the corporal punishment which is
resorted to, is said to be inconsistent with
this alleged tenderness of feelinjj. Do those

o ...

who make this objection, maintain that
crime should be followed by no penalty .''
Ought the negro more than other men to
be allowed to lie, and steal, and mal-treat his
fellows with impunity } Or is fault found
only with the Mnd of punishment. Most
persons, probably, would agree in rejoicing
if a sufficient and preferable substitute could
be found, but in instances where many are
to be controlled by a few, it seems imprac-
ticable to dispense with it altogether. " A
sad business, then, is this of owning slaves."
I admit it ; truly, slave holding is a mis-
fortune.

It woidd occupy too much space to enu-
merate all the grounds there are for in-
ferring that the white population of the
South is, in general, desirous of the safe
abolishment of slavery. Perhaps, if the at-
tempt were made, I should not receive a
very patient hearing. But, in truth, nothing
of the sort is incumbent on me.

I assert that some two-score years ago,
such a sentiment prevailed. This, I think,
none can be found bold enough to deny.

Public opinion does not change without
cause, and, until an adequate cause is ex-
hibited in this case, we have aright to hold
that the alteration has not followed. Can
it be proved either that the institution is
no longer the same, or that the people

1850.]

Southern Views of Slavery.

343

themselves have become less intelligent,
less free, less humane ?

But, if the old spirit exist, it is not so
manifest as it once was. It is not. Here at
last we find common ground to stand upon.
Let us now consider the problem calmly,
and its solution will not prove very difficult.
To my mind, it appears susceptible of de-
monstration. What we want is simply to
have the case given as it exists, and then
to be permitted to apply to it acknowledged
principles of human nature. If we could
forget that we are considering a contem-
poraneous question, it would be all the
better. Let us look at it as if it were a
statement in Herodotus or an hypothetic
fable propounded by Socrates on the rocks
of Sunium.

No species of authority is submitted to
readily, and as a matter of course. To sup-
port it there must be either an exertion of
irresistible power, or a controlling moral
influence. The latter is the more effective,
and is usually called in aid even when the
presence of the other seems to render it
superfluous. Those who wear crowns and
wield sceptres, endeavor also to throw
around their persons a semi-sacred halo.
England herself, who boasts a constitution
as firm " as the proud Keep of Windsor and
its coeval towers," does not scruple to ac-
knowledge, in the maxim that her King can
do no wrong, one of the best guarantees of
her stability.

The more unnatural the relation between
the governor and the governed, the greater
the need of a strong force of some sort to
preserve it. Once it was held that a father
should have absolute power over the life and
limb of his son, in order to keep him in
subjection. Subsequently the world found
that an authority less despotic would suffice.
Since the connection between parent and
child is the simplest and most natural of
all, it stands in least want of extrinsic sup-
port. The State, which is a more artifi-
cial institution, has been compelled to as-
sume the power which is not needed at the
domestic hearth. Magistrates bear the
sword, and have frequent occasion to show
that they bear it not in vain.

But there is no relation more unnatural
than that of master and slave. If the king,
the parent, and the Commonwealth, re-
quire the aid of what, for want of a more
strictly appropriate te.im, is called a moral

sanction, how much more certainly doe9
the master require it. And the power of
this moral influence is almost incredible. A
Mississippian plantation is by no means an
extreme example. Let one meditate on
the social condition of ancient Attica.
There, the serf was not inferior in physical
development, nor strikingly so in intel-
lectual capacity — there was there no broad,
impassible separation of color.

The influence to which reference is made
can do wonders where full scope is given.
Yet is it a sensitive thing, and wiU not
bear to be tampered with. Destroy it,
and only a single alternative is left — that
is severity — relentless severity. In the
early period of American Slavery, author-
ity was supported by the iron hand. The
master has, by degrees, stripped himself
of the stern coercive power with which he
was invested. Once it was law in Virginia,
that if a master or other person appointed
by him, should, in the act of punishment,
chance to kill his slave, he should be " ac-
quit of molestation. " This statute, as well
as others like it, has been repealed. The
law is now nearly as regardful of the secu-
rity of the black man as of the white, and
public sentiment goes further than the law.
A runaway slave who kUled a white man
attempting to arrest him, has received as
charitable a construction from the commu-
nity as the most dispassionate phUanthopist
could ask. It was held that the man not
designing to commit the homicide was
guiltless. This was favor which the com-
mon law would not have shown.

The slave looks up to his owner, frequent-
ly with affection, always with reverence.
He acknowledges the authority because he
sees nothing which shocks or contravenes
it. The same principle renders the ser-
vant dutiful, and allows the master to be
lenient. Let this subtile, impalpable in-
fluence be disturbed, and what follows }
The startled master is like one awakened
from a state of Arabian enchantment. Sur-
rounding objects suddenly put on a strange
and frightful hue. He has long ago cast
away that stern material armor which was
once his safe-guard. Yet is not his situa-
tion desperate, though it imposes on him
a responsibility from which his nature
shrinks. The sharp old weapons are not
familiar to his hand, but they are still with-
in reach. He must resume the temper

344

Southern Views of Slavery.

[April,

with which men used to greet Hawkins as
he unloaded his cargoes on the strand of
Hispaniola.

This crisis has not come — the harsher
alternative is not yet in requisition. Tho
possibility of the approach of that dark day
is, however, forseen. Convinced that a dan-
ger threatens, the Southern people esteem
it their duty to be watchful. Hence that
conduct apparently inconsistent with their
former declared and stUl heart-felt senti-
ments. Truth they know is the same every
where, but circumstances may exist potent
enough to qualify the utterance of truth.
We can speak words at Washington which
would be treason at Westminster. Britons
are not therefore serfs or feudal bondsmen,
though we are in a happier position than
they. That all men are born with the
same absolute rights is as clear an abstract
verity in Virginia as in Massachusetts.
Yet the safety of the community forbids
this article of political faith to be proclaimed
at the one latitude in tones quite as loud as
it may be at the other. If the soil of Mas-
sachusetts be esteemed the more fortunate
on that account, this consideration, it is
evident, is far from proving that the dis-
tinction does not exist. Comparisons of
this kind, whether intentionally invidious,
or advanced only by way of argument, are
equally out of place. When of the for-
mer character, they are unchristian and
inhuman, because insults to those who are
laboring under an inevitable dispensation
of Providence ; when a logical aspect is
put on, they are utterly futile — extreme
instances of the fallacy of Ignoratio elcncJd.

The slaveholder has a reason for caution.
If this caution be carried somewhat to ex-
cess, the fact ought to excite neither sur-
prise nor anger in the breast of any one
who has studied the nature of man. Fur-
thermore, is it not a legitimate inquiry how
far those who stand at a distance from the
scene are qualified to estimate the neces-
sities which it involves .'' The Northern
Statesman is tempted to judge a measure
by no other standard than its mere irrela-
tive justice. In other words, he is liable
to the error oi private interpretation — an
error that exists not less really in politics
than in theology — an error reprehended by
Thucydides as well as by Peter.

Take for example, the abolition of sla-
very in the District of Columbia. What at

first sight appears to the speculative ob-
server more reasonable } How fit, in the
nature of things, it is, that the Government
of the freest nation on earth should have
its seat on free ground ! What hurt can
it be to the South that the " area of liber-
ty" should receive the trifling enlargement
of two or three score of square miles }
While so large a surface of the map is co-
vered with States privileged to slavery,
wherefore the outcry on account of a mere
speck whose brief dimensions the eye can
hardly recognize .?

Yet, behold, what a stroke this seeming-
ly innocent measure would be to that moral
influence which, as we have seen, is the
slave-holder's chief reliance. Think of it
as the establishment, in the heart of the
South, of a place to which every discontent-
ed slave could turn his eyes — a sanctuary
for refugees — a Whitefriars !

There may be men, however, on the
free-soil side who have attained such a sub-
lime apathy as to be quite indifferent to
any perils which may menace the white
popidation of the South. No consideration,
arising from this view of the matter, is ca-
pable of placing the slightest restraint up-
on their inclination to carry abstract theory
to the utmost length. Indeed all the sym-
pathy of which they are capable, is enlisted
in behalf of the negro ; he is the most de-
based and least endowed with sensibility
and judgment, and therefore should mono- .
polize all the intellectual and moral super-
fluities of the outside world. What though
the foundations of a social organization be
upturned } What though the mUd, yet
mighty element which gives the master such
easy control over the servant be annihila-
ted t Selfishness says, 'tis naught to us :
Pseudo-philanthropy says : — We ought not
to regret that the slave will have an oppor-
tunity of struggling — even through blood
and fire — to his freedom.

A person cherishing notions of this kind
may regard them as very rational, and phi-
losophic, and proper, yet he must perceive
the absurdity of supposing that Southern
men can ever adopt them. Nature has not
constituted us destitute of the instincts of
self-protection. The slave-holder's family,
too, is dear to him ; nor will he forget the
claims of posterity Let all that is conceiva-
ble be attempted — let all that is conceivable
be done, nothwithstandmg the whole, the

1850.]

Southern Views of Slavery.

845

Negro will be quelled. This result must
ensue, although to accomplish it the pres-
ent gentle sway have to be abandoned
for the lash and the chain, and all those
other resources which at present exist only
in history and in the imaginations of
Messrs. Garrison & Co. Should such an
exigency arise, the master's heart would
suffer, but how grievous the calamity that
must faU upon the slave !

There is no probability that matters will
be brought to such a crisis — and why }
The Southern community, become con-
scious of their position, wiU take pains to
avert every thing capable of impairing that
pervading invisible influence to which I
have so often referred, as the power that
upholds contentment and tranquil order.
I have dwelt upon this principle, obvious
as it is, because it seems to me impossible
for any one, without an appreciation of it,
to understand the phenomena of our situa-
tion. We know that our happiness, if not
safety, depends on the preservation of this
social adjustment. A lively sense of the
means essential to their security may very
easily excite men to lay aside for the time
aU other considerations. No matter how
earnest our desire that every bondman be
set free, we cannot contemplate with pa-
tience any measure which, though calcu-
lated to further that general emancipation,
at the same time threatens our own and the
negro's present and prospective welfare.

Those placed in circumstances which in-
duce entire submission to a guide so exact-
ing, and yet in the main so true, may not
always bear in mind the dictates of dis-
passionate reason. Thus may Southerners
have erred. Certain it is, at all events,
that they have been misunderstood. In
periods of excitement leaders are most
likely to be chosen from the advocates of
extremes. Such individuals have the ad-
vantage of presenting themselves off-hand,
in tangible and definite positions. A ral-
lying point which is conspicuous has at
least one good quality. So strong is the
temptation this way that I think the South
deserves credit for not having yielded to it
more than she has. Unseduced by exam-
ple which it was difficult to resist, she has
maintained, in heart, the integrity of her
early faith. The evils of slavery are at
this day felt by her more sensibly — because
Biore rationally — than by the hottest Abo-

litionism. She has taken a guage of the
burden, and recognizes all the difficulties
that oppose its removal.

JSIr. Calhoun is quoted against us. It
is a pity that those who do so — the
honest portion of them, I mean, for the
dishonest will of course accept no informa-
tion which would jeopard their arguments —
'tis a pity they do not know in how small
a degree Mr. Calhoun represents Southern
opinion. There are many who do not
unite with him in his other ingeniously-
fantastic theories — there is a countless host
who differ from his views of slavery.

The Northern inquirer, reluctant to re-
linquish a pre-conceived idea, will perhaps
demand why it is that citizens of the South,
havmg so orthodox a creed, fail to apply it
to the regulation of their conduct. Why
do you not join heart and hand in the
efforts which we are anxious to make for
the banishment of the post .' W^hy do you
listen to our appeals so coldly, and reject
our interposition with so much warmth }

I could give an answer downright and
conclusive, if not very complimentary.
Your efforts are injudicious and tend rather
to aggravate than to lighten our difficulties.

But something else may be said. A
policy of reserve is essential to the South,
and the reason has been explained, unless
I have altogether wasted my words. The
slave must have his eyes directed to his
master, and, until the hour of liberation
come, must behold no one else. If any re-
fuse to recognize this necessity, they take
away all basis of discussion.

Let it be stated as a third and distinct
reason, that the course which has been pur-
sued by the North has excited among us
(mark me — I say not that such an effect
was designed) an impression that tho-se
who should be our loyal brethren have been
actuated by a degree of harshness and illib-
erahty. I think I hear a bluff rejoinder —
"You are quite too sensitive." Perhaps
we are, but if so you should hear with this
our infirmity. Persons abroad httle under-
stand how extensively this interpretation of
your motives has prevailed throughout our
community. To appreciate an argument
requires mental training, but every man
can be hurt by an insult. Social bodies
more phlegmatic may exist, where the first
impulse is not acted upon and time is taken
for mature deliberation. Here it is other-

346

Southern Views of Slavery.

[April,

wise. The inhabitants of the land, the
People^ rich and poor, slaveholders and
non-slaveholders, are roused at once when
it is conceived that their personal honor
has been treated with disrespect. Do some
of our politicians seem to you to conduct
themselves occasionally in a very strange
manner .-' It is not genuine madness, be
assured : — di politician, of whatever clime,
never loses his wits. They know that the
community which they represent is impul-
sive, and they make their own demeanor
to conform. The Congressman who is thus
acting a part may appear ridiculous, but do
not thence infer that an excited People
will prove a spectacle to provoke mirth.
Their frenzy, if frenzy should seize them,
will be of another sort. Orlando cannot
become a buffoon.

One may safely suspect that Southern-
ers are beginning to look rather shyly upon
some of those who claim to be their lead-
ing men. Many of the phrases which
have been passing current are found, when
strictly examined, to contain a sense that
I verily believe nine-tenths of the intelli-
gent minds throughout the slaveholding
region utterly reject. A disposition is re-
viving to avoid ultra ground as far as pos-
sible. Not a few already feel discontent at
being presumed to hold opinions equally ab-
horrent to common sense and to philan-
thropy. But we occupy a dubious and
unsettled station : — the path that must be
chosen is not yet clearly distinguished.
To be exposed to the misconstruction of
those whose favorable opinion we would
gladly acquire, is an uncongenial and irk-
some lot. Many a spiiit pants to declare
how unreserved is its devotion to the car-
dinal doctrines of freedom. Yet for all

this we dare not disregard our paramount
duty. It is an unhappy condition of sla-
very, that master, as well as man, is forced
to endure bonds.

Where there is so much feeling common
to all members of a noble family, is it not
a shame that estrangement should be in
their midst — and this simply because Maine
and Louisiana, New York and Virginia,
cannot read each other's hearts ! How
and when is this equivocal state to cease .''
The solution of the question — a moment-
ous question, surely — rests with the North.
You are disembarrassed of the restraints
by which we are fettered : — it is in your
power to pursue a straight-forward and
kind and generous course. WUl you do
this } or will you labor to obstruct our
way with new and more intricate toils .''

I use language which presumes sympa-
thy on the part of those to whom it is ad-
dressed. And well am I satisfied of the
virtue, faith, and good intention, that flou-
rish on a Northern soil. Add to this cat-
alogue of qualities charity, and I for one
will acknowledge the existence of a national
character as near perfection as this world
can ever be expected to show. To those
head-strong and selfish men among you,
who are so eager to exhibit their entire
destitution of American spirit as well as of
decency and Christianity, I have nothing
to say. Their malice, vivacious though it
be, could do no harm if the vast commu-
nity from out of which they spring, would
not suffer them to pass for its authorized
exponents. In the name of reason, not
less than of civil harmony, let North and
South throw aside the masks that disfigure
and diso-uise them. Tamen.

1850.]

Macaulaifs History of England.

MACAULAY'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND.*

Since tlie days when the celebrated no-
vels of Sir Walt<ir Scott were issued from
the Edinburgh press, and heralded forth
to the eager and admiring world as pro-
ductions from the magic pen of the un-
known " Author of Waverley," no work
has created such high expectations or been
read with such lively enthusiasm as that
now before us. Indeed, it has been rather
devoured than read, and seems to have been
sought after, (if we may be pardoned the
expression in connexion with so popular a
book,) more with the desire to gratify an
ephemeral curiosity than with a view to
solid improvement. This species oi Juror
is harmless and tolerable when produced by
the pompous annunciation of a new novel
from Bulwer or Alexandre Dumas ; but it
is very apt, if not quite sure, to prove fatal in
the end and consequences, to the perma-
nent popularity and esteem of a grave his-
tory— and more especially of a history
of England. The impressions of fiction are
pleasing, light, and transient, and even
where a novel is deficient as to style and
sound moral instruction, the interest of
the story, if only tolerably sustained, will
rescue it from harsh or condemnatory judg-
ment. But it is far different with a work
of history. Diffuseness of style, sparkling
sentences, entertaining and brilliant epi-
sodes, occasional and tasteful metaphors, will
do well in romance, and it is mainly in ro-
mance that such things are looked for by
the refined lovers of literature. In a work
of history these all, in our humble judg-
ment, are both untastcful and sadly out of
place, especially if the author's ambition is
directed less to ephemeral popularity and
to the desire for speedy profits, than to a
lasting fame and lofty place among histo-
rians who will be read in after ages as re-
liable for authority and reference, as well as

for useful instruction. We shall be much
deceived if the brilliant and gifted author
of the woi'k now before us, does not ex-
perience the truth of the above remarks
before many years will have passed. We
are much mistaken if Mr. Alacaulay does
not soon find that his hopes of greatest fiuiie
must rather be reposed on those splendid
Selections and Miscellanies, recently collec-
ted and published from among his numer-
ous contributions to the Edinburgh Review,
than upon this work of greater labor and
higher expectations. The first may chal-
lenge not admiration only, but the severest
and harshest scrutiny also, as to beauty,
novelty and terseness of style, acute and
unequalled powers of criticism, splendor of
description, correctness and vigor of judg-
ment, and rare fertility and chasteness of
imagination. Besides all this, the Miscel-
lanies are replete with sound lessons of in-
struction in ethics, the sciences, and poli-
tics. They abound with nice and elabor-
ate illustrations of human character in all its
features, and of human nature in all its as-
pects. All of this description of writing
that we find in his history, we shall find
previously and better done in his Misella-
nies. Nor is ]\Ir. Macaulay at all singular
in the notion, if, indeed, he has chosen to
rest his reputation on the work which has
cost him most time and labor, in pi'cference
to what he doubtless deems his lighter pro-
ductions. Both Petrarch and Boccaccio
were engaged for years in writing ponder-
ous volumes of Latin on which to repose
their fame, and through the medium of
which they had fondly expected to be hand-
ed down to a remote posterity. Yet these
works of labor are scarcely known, never
or very rarely read, and are passing from
all connexion or association with their
names ; whilst the Sonnets of the first, and

*Macaulay's History of England. New York : Harper and Brothers,
VOL V. NO. IV. NEW SERIES. 23

848

Macaulai/s History of

E?igland.

[April,

tte enchanting Decameron of the last, writ-
ten by both at intervals of leisure and as
mere pastime, have attained to a world-
wide fame, and, as specimens of elegant and
pure Italian, have long been preserved as
precious and priceless treasures of the liter-
ature of the fourteenth century. Machia-
velli labored arduously and long at his his-
tory of Florence, a work which embodies
vast learning and which contains many re-
flections that afford a clew to his real poli-
tical sentiments and governmental notions,
and by which he doubtless hoped to live
in the memory of after generatiops. Yet
it was in the gloom and sad seclusion of a
prison that he produced that singular liitle
volume, — singular both for its power ^ of
thought and atrocity of sentiment, — which
has consigned him to an eternal fame of
odium, and coupled his name with that of
'' the Prince" of demons. Even Sir Walter
Scott thought seriously, near the close of
bis unparalleled career, of discarding his
grandest productions as a basis on which to
rest his permanent fame, and even boasted
at the well known " Theatrical Fund din-
ner," that a work was soon to see the light
from the author of Waverley, that would
throw all other productions from that cele-
brated and gifted source, completely into
minority and secondary estimation. This
work, thus singularly announced, was his
life of Napoleon Bonaparte. Yet the
contrary, as doubtless every sagacious hear-
er ima^nned when the declaration was made,
has been the case. The biography, except
for the beauty and power of its style, is
generally regarded as imperfect in point of
main facts, and as every way unworthy of its
illustrious author ; while the novels, — read
now in every class of society with the same
interest and enthusiasm as when, years ago,
they flew from the press like lightning,
to dazzle and charm a bewildered world

]iave been long set aside and marked

for perpetual stereotype. Mr. Macaulay,
then, has distinguished associates, if indeed,
like them, he has been weak enough to
suppose that the volumes before us, bear-
ing though they do, the marks of untiring
labor and diligent research, will be hailed
by a succeeding generation in preference
to his Miscellanies, as the enduring monu-
ment of his fame.

But, apart from considerations of this
character,^ it is very certain that no book

of the present time has been welcomed from
the press with such general laudation and
eagerness, or read with such blinded avi-
dity. So popular a miscellaneous writer
has surely not appeared in the character of
a historian since the days of Sir Walter
Scott. And although we must candidly
confess our disappointment in the work,
yet its populaiity is so great and the pres-
tige of the author's name so overshadow-
ing, that we feel it to be an act of pre-
sumption and temerity to offer even the
least disparaging criticism. And if it be
true that high expectation is almost always
followed by disappointment, as Lord Jef-
frey remarks, it is scarcely possible that any
readers of Macaulay's history should not
be disappointed. It is by no means our
design in employing this remark to reflect
upon the general merits of the production,
or to depreciate its justly high fame, even
were it in our feeble power to do so. On
the contrary, we regard it as one of the
most brilliant and entertaining histories we
over read, or expect ever to read. True,
it contains little that is new in point of gen-
eral facts-^little that could not be learned
from Hume, or Fox, or Burnett. But the
miuutia) of those facts are spread out with
taste, amplified, and explained in a man-
ner that must interest even the most fas-
tidious. The concise and discriminative re-
view of English history, previous to the
epoch on which he intends finally and prin-
cipally to treat ; the learned and methodi-
cal disquisitions on English Church history,
the nice and finely drawn "delineations of
party differences in the different ages ; the
bold portraitures of monarchs and states-
men and all descriptions of distinguished
persons, either in politics or ecclesiastical
history ; the power and splendor of diction,
the brilliancy of description, the flashes of
withering sarcasm, the beautiful episodes,
the occasional lovely pictures of domestic
life, of love and of death scenes fuU of
agreeable pathos and tender associations, —
all these, and much else that might be justly
added, form a whole of vivid and absorb-
ing interest that could spring only from a
mind of extraordinary vigor and versatility.
But it is not like a history from the austere
pen of Hallam, profoundly collated, tersely
condensed, meditative, and perspicacious ;
bringing matters to the test of severe scru-
tiny rather than of superficial or critical re-

1850.1

Macaulaifs History of England.

349

view. It does uot impress with the force
of the smooth, well-arranged, and methodi-
cal narrative of Robertson. We do not find
in its pages the analysis, the profound phi-
losophy, and rapid but digested condensa-
tion of Hume. Mr. Macaulay, therefore,
must not expect, when the " hurly-burly 's
done," and when the buoyant emotions of
curiosity, excited as well by the pompous
heraldry of interested booksellers as by his
own great literary reputation, shall give
place to the calm and sober reflux of un-
captivated judgment, to sit unchallenged
by the side of great historians. That time
will surely come, and it is not, we incline
to think, very distant. He who has so often
wielded against other aspu-ants to a like
high place the fierce weapons of criticism,
must not think to be allowed to pass unas-
saUed and unscrutinized.

Thus for, indeed, our author has swept
critics and fault-finders from before him,
and the public has sustained him. The
only prominent critic who has inked his
pen for the task of review, was so bitterly
and unqualifiedly assaidted by editors and
journalists, so bullied by Quixotic littera-
teurs^ and so worried by personal attacks,
that his efibrt may be said to have increased
rather than diminished the popidarity of the
work. There were, however, two all-suf-
ficient reasons why the merits of that criti-
cism were disregarded. In the first place,
it was put forth at an ill-chosen time. The
whole literary world was in a blaze of ex-
citement and silly enthusiasm. Had the
excitement been of a rational character^ or
the enthusiasm been kindled by less /z<r?ow*
elements, had the longings of rabid curiosi-
ty been in the least degree sated, the criti-
cism might have been received and treated
with more leniency. But a stronger reason
against its favorable reception existed. It
was known that it was from the pen of one
hostile to Mr. jVIacaulay, and who owed
him a grudge. This, of course, determined
its fate. But the circumstances of the case
are diiferent now. The excitement and
enthusiasm are fast subsiding. It may not,
therefore, be deemed presumptuous to scan
the merits and demerits of this great work,
impartially and fairly.

The introductory chapter of this history
is written after the true style of its author.
No one who has read his Miscellanies could
fail to tell that both must be from the same

gifted pen. It abounds with excellent ideas
on the nature and consequences of early
historical events, imparting at once useful
information and suggesting whole trains of
deep and improving reflection. Especially
were we pleased with the author's suggest-
ions concerning the ancient pilgrimages,
the crusades, abbeys, and the spiritual su-
premacy arrogated by the Pope in the dark
ages. From all these the author very clear-
ly and justly deduces important and bene-
ficial results on society and on governments.
The pilgrimages caused rude and barbarous
nations to become acquainted with the re-
finements and civilization of Italy and the
oriental countries. The crusades unfolded
the secret of the benefits to be derived from
national combinations, or coalitions between
different powers in a common cause. " It
was better," as the author says, " that
Christian nations should be roused and
united for the recovery of the Holy Se-
pulchre, than that they should, one by one,
be overwhelmed by the Mohammedan
power." It is certain, we believe, that a
superstitious zeal and a fanatical spirit
saved the whole of Europe, on this occasion
from the corrosive influences and intellec-
tual darkness oflslamism. Political con-
siderations merely, on the rough diplomacy
of that early age, could never have brought
about those immense and formidable com-
binations which diverted the arms of Sala-
din from conquests and invasions, and drove
him to defend his own soil. It is equally
certain that if priestcraft had not in that
age been predominant, and litei'ature nursed
and cultivated in quiet cloisters, the world
would not yet have v^^itncssed the lapse of
the dark ages. The sombre shadows would
still have rested over mankind, and the lore
of the early ages been unvescued from the
womb of the past. The spiritual suprem-
acy of the Pope was a species of mild pa-
triarchal dominion which formed a strong
bond of union between the nations of Chris-
tendom. A common code of international
or public law — a fraternal tie — an enlarged
benevolence, were among the happy conse-
quences of this supremacy, generally de-
nounced as arrogant and imrighteous in the
sight of God and man. "Even in war,"
says the learned author," the cruelty of the
conqueror was not seldom mitigated by the
recollection that he and his vanquished foe
were all members of one great federation."

S50

Macaidmfs History of England.

[April,

It is to the reception of the Anglo-Saxons
into this rehgious federation, and to the
consequent inter-communication between
the Islanders and Italians, that Mr. Mac-
aulay traces the first dawn of a permanent
improvement in the civilization and litera-
ture of the English people.

A condensed and spirited history of the
Norman character and conquest follows
upon these reflections, and then the author
travels by long and rapid strides to the
reio-n of John of Anjou, the brother and
successor of Richard Coeur de Lion. An
event in this reign which has been gener-
ally represented by English historians as
disastrous and disgraceful, is here demon-
strated by the author as having been the
basis of all the prosperity and glory of Eng-
land. This event was the expulsion of the
English monarch from Normandy by Philip
Augustus of France. The Norman barons
and nobles were now forced, from motives
of interest, to confine themselves and their
hordes of wealth to the island. They be-
gan to look on England as their country,
amalgamated with the Saxons, made com-
mon cause with the Saxons against a bad
and weak monarch, and then followed the
memorable scenes at Runymede where the
Magna Charta was extorted. Here, says
Mr. Macaulay, commences the history of
the English nation. Mr. Hallam also, in
the first part of his " Constitutional His-
tory," appended to his Middle Ages, speaks
of this event as having been the first effort
towards a legal government. Yet the same
author, in a previous chapter, ascribes the
date of many of the leading and valued
features of the English Constitution to a
period earlier than the reign of Alfred the
Great ; and in another sentence, declares
that there is no single date from which its
duration is to be reckoned." Certain it is
that the main features of the judicial system,
and especially the right of trial by jury and
the number of jurors, were in existence be-
fore the time of Alfred, were further im-
proved by that wise monarch, and were at
last confirmed and permanently defined in
the Great Charter.

No reader of history, it is true, can well
question the fact that it was at this period
that " the English people first took place
among the nations of the world ;" but their
authentic history, many of the noblest and
most admired features of their great Con-

stitution, may be fairly traced to a period
of time much earlier than the conquest.
The Great Charter of liberty — the establish-
ment of the House of Commons — the distri-
bution of civil rights to all classes of free-
men— the preservation of national indepen-
dence under the ancient line of sovereigns,
which some were rashly anxious to exchange
for the dominion of France — the definition
and limitation of the king's prerogative ; all
these, however, date their tangible origin
and adoption from this period ; and, in this
sense, English history proper may also date
its beginning from the same era.

At page 46, (Harper's edition) after as-
serting that it is doubtful whether England
owes more to the Roman Catholic religion
or to the Reformation, the author opens his
account of the origin and character of the
Church of England. Much that follows is
tinctured with a good deal of that party
asperity and bias which political feeling
might very naturally engender in the bosom
of a Whig historian when treating of this
epoch. No one who reads these pages can
fail to discern, at a glance, the political and
religious sentiments of the distinguished his-
torian. It is perhaps to be somewhat re-
gretted that the author, in this instance,
had not drawn a more salutary and sub-
stantial lesson from a complaint which he
bitterly utters on a previous page, viz.
" the drawback," which English history
has received from being " poisoned with
party strifes." The author, in the true and
bigoted Presbyterian spirit, seeks to rob the
church of all claims to that spiritual, apos-
tolic origin which eminent and erudite
divines have long labored to demonstrate
as being her due. With a disputatious re-
ference to some mere petty differences be-
tween her first established clergy, Mr.
Macaulay abruptly narrows down and at-
tributes the origin of the church to a motive
of political necessity alone, — a political
''compromise" between confiicting Protes-
tants. He will find many, we imagine, to
disagree with him on these points. It is
an attack against the whole plan of spirit-
ual economy inculcated and held by her
ablest ministers. If Mr. Macaulay's pre-
mise and reasoning be true, a fatal blow is
given to the high pretensions of the church.
Episcopalians believe, and labor to prove,
that the church proper existed in England
long prior to the date of Henry VIII 's apos-

1850.]

Macaulmfs History of England.

351

tacy, and its subsequent permanent recog-
nition and establishment under Elizabeth.
It would be as well, they would contend,
for Mr. Macaulay to assert that Christian-
ity itself had no tangible or respectable ex-
istence until its adoption and legal estab-
lishment by the great Constantine ; for
what is most unquestionably true, until that
period the Christian religion was held to be
the lowest, most contemptible, and plebeian
form of religion then practised in the world,
and scarcely more than dared to show its
face for fear of utter and helpless annihila-
tion. The insignificance and political de-
basement of the early Anglican zealots, the
Lollards and others who preceded them,
are not to be used as an argument adverse
to their holy, apostolic calling, if we be-
lieve with eminent divines of the present
day. English bishops, say they, were
known to have sat in the Council of Nice,
a Council which was held long anterior to
the date of Augustin's visit to the British
Islands. They persuade us that the flame
of the Church was burning stealthily but
steadily through long ages of persecution
until at last, by a concurrence of great
events, divinely directed, it shot to its
zenith amid the tempests of the Reforma-
tion. Right or wrong, therefore, the opin-
ions and arguments of learned and accom-
plished prelates clash directly and funda-
mentally with those advanced by this great
historian. In his character of reviewer,
Mr. Macaulay had the full right to ad-
vance and maintain such opinions, and
none could find fiiult with him. It was his
individual opinion only, and carried no fur-
ther weight than his personal influence and
consideration were entitled to receive. But
these opinions and views carried into an
elaborate historical work, intended to be
used as authority, and as a guide for opin-
ion to future generations, is quite a diifer-
ent matter ; and we much question if Mr.
Macaulay will meet with tacit assent on
the part of astute and proud divines of the
communion of the English Church and its
branches.

His character of Cranmer too, though true
as to fact and history, must be viewed more
as a caricature than a faithful portrait of
that distinguished and unfortunate prelate.
If governed by Mr. Macaulay alone, we
would be seriously at a loss, in forming our
relative estimate of character, whether to

plant our deepest abhorrence on Cranmei >
the hypocritical villain, or Jefi'reys, the open
and shameless villain. Certain it is that
no previous writer of English history, with
whose works we arc acquainted, has dealt
half so harshly and severely with this most
esteemed of all Protestant martyrs who ex-
piated their faith in the flames of persecu-
tion. Indeed, from the author's frequent
reference to Bossuet, a bitter and bigoted
Roman Catholic writer, the reader might
very well suppose, that, discarding all con-
temporaneous English authorities, Mr.
Macaulay had assiduously drawn his char-
acter of the Archbishop from the jaundiced
picture left by that biassed Frenchman.
Even Hallam, who, when dissecting charac-
ter, as our author himself says in his elegant
review of the " Constitutional history,"
most generally draws on the " black cap,"
deals with remarkable caution and kindness
when he comes to speak of Cranmer. He
attributes his faults more to the efiect of
circumstances than of intention, though he
insinuates that the Archbishop might have
avoided placing himself in situations where
those circumstances were almost sure to
occur. " If," says Mr. Hallam in his
Constitutional history, " casting away all
prejudice on either side, we weigh the char-
acter of this prelate in an equal balance, he
will appear for indeed removed from the
turpitude imputed to him by his enemies,
yet not entitled to extraordinary veneration.''
This is a mild, and, as we incline to believe,
a just sentence. If Cranmer was entitled
even to veneration at all, he cannot have
been considered so bad a man by Mr. Hal-
lam as he is represented to have been by
Bossuet, with whom Mr. Macaulay mainly
agrees in opinion. Mr. Hallam condemns,
as all right thinking men nmst condemn,
the execution, imder Cranmer's manage-
ment, of the woman convicted of heresy,
and of a Dutchman who was found guilty
of teaching Arianism. Yet these religious
atrocities were the prevailing sin and shame
of the age, and may be ascribed, in this in-
stance, more to the weakness and intoler-
ance of education, and to the influence of
generally sanctioned custom, than to any
rancorous or unusual malignity on the part
of Cranmer.

A truly charitable and unbiassed mind
will find much in the melancholy scenes of
Cranmer's closing days to palliate, if not

352

Macaulay's History of England.

[April

to justify his alleged errors and weakness-
es. He had been marked by Mary, and
her vindictive advisers, as a victim, for
whom death, speedy and without torture,
was not deemed a sufficient punishment. His
grave, unassuming piety, his anti-Catholic
counsels to Henry the Eighth, the rev-
erence with which he was regarded by
the Protestant world, his equally notorious
opposition to Mary's succession, his exalt-
ed position in the Church, and his abhor-
rence of papal supremacy, were all taken
into account in that barbarous reckoning
which possessed the bosom of the fierce and
implacable queen, and prompted her to
visit such awful and appalling vengeance
on the eldest Patriarch of the Church of
England. With this view, Cranmer, in
the first place, was committed to the Tower
for treason, in September, 1553, a short
time after Mary's accession to the throne.
In the month following he was convicted
of this crime for his share in Lady Jane's
proclamation. An inhuman motive soon
prompted Mary to pardon him ; and then
began the first scene in that bloody drama.
It was resolved to take his life for lieresy^
the more to satiate revenge, and to signal-
ize his execution. With this view he was
cited to appear before the Pope at Rome,
and although a close and guarded prisoner
in England, was promptly condemned for
his non-appearance as contumacious. His
first punishment was degradation at the
hands of one who was nearer akin, in his
nature, to fiends than to men — Bishop
Bonner. Then Mary began with her blan-
dishments and unholy cajoleries. His to-
tal infamy and dishonor, before death, was
the object of these deceits. Cranmer was
visited and entertained by Catholic digni-
taries, was treated with marked courtesy
and hospitality by the queen's servants,
was tempted by every allurement of hope,
was courted to his doom by every seduc-
tive art. High expectations of preferment
were flatteringly held out to him, and then,
by way of awful contrast, and to confirm
the work of flattery by arousing his fears,
the warrant for his execution was shown
to him. Cranmer, overcome by a natural
fondness for life, and appalled by the pros-
pect of the tortures which awaited him,
unwarily fell into the snare. He signed
his recantation of the Protestant faith, and
subscribed to that of papal supremacy.

and of the real presence. Then the mon-
sters of the queen's vengeance mockingly
laughed in his face, and were unable to
conceal their fiendish exultation. Cran-
mer at once saw through the plan, and di-
vined his fate. But he resolved to thwart
their unholy schemes, and to turn his re-
cent apostacy and his awful death to the
benefit of his beloved Church. When it
was believed that he was about to make a
public confession of his conversion to
popery, and when the church to which he
was carried was filled with crowds of anx-
ious and exultant Catholics, Cranmer sur-
prised his audience by solemnly abjuring
his recent recantation, by confessing
humbly his weakness, and by declaring his
firm resolve to meet death as a martyr to the
Protestant religion. He was immediately
hurried to the flames, and died heroically.
This, surely, cannot be the man, allow-
ing for all his human and natural weak-
nesses of character, whom Mr. Macaulay
bitterly stigmatizes as " saintly in his pro-
fessions, unscrupulous in his dealings, zeal-
ous for nothing, bold in speculation, a cow-
ard, and a time-server in action," and as
one every way qualified to bring about a
coalition of church and state, where reli-
gion was to be sacrificed to policy ! This
same man is eulogized by David Hume, the
most learned and accomplished of all Eng-
lish historians, " as a man of merit ; as
possessed of learning and capacity, and
adorned with candor, sincerity, and benefi-
cence, and all those virtues which were
fitted to render him useful and amiable in
society." Sir James Mackintosh goes even
further than Hume, and no one can doubt
that these two were possessed of quite as
many facts, and full as much information,
concerning Cranmer's character, as Mr.
Macaulay. We are told by Mackintosh,
when speaking of the primate, that " cou-
rage survived a public avowal of dishonor,
the hardest test to which that virtue can be
exposed ; and if he once fatally failed in
fortitude, he, in his last moments, atoned
for his failure by a magnanimity equal to
his transgression." The united testimony
of these distinguished and impartial histo-
rians, united on points which contravene
materially that of our author, though,
doubtless, collated from the same sources,
should serve to qualify, to some extent at
least, in the reader's mind, the distorted

1850.]

Macaulay's History of England.

353

and uninviting portraiture of this venerable
prelate's character, as given by Macaulay,
with such bitter emphasis. We do not
doubt that Cranmer was faulty in many
particulars, and deeply so ; but it is going
further than history would seem fairlj' to
warrant to characterize him as base, crafty,
hypocritical and perfidious.

We come next to one of the most inter-
esting divisions of the first chapter, and,
indeed, of the whole volume. It is ground
on which Mr. Macaulay may tread fear-
lessly, for he has elsewhere evinced that he
is thoroughly master of the whole subject.
We mean the reign of the first Charles,
" a period," says the author, " when be-
gan that hazardous game, on which were
staked the destinies of the English people."
It is truly delightful to travel along with the
author through this j)ortion of his task.
You see, at every stage, the unmistakeable
impress of the great mind, with whose
thoughts you have grown familiar in
the JNIiscellanies. Every scene of the pre-
liminary drama of the rebellion, is brought
vividly before the mind's eye, and every
part and feature of each scene, even to the
minutest details, are as vividly arrayed.
No one can rise from the perusal of this
account of that interesting period without
a feeling of conscious improvement and in-
struction, without feeling that he has be-
come much better acquainted with the
causes and character of a contest which
exercised such mighty influence on the
English Government. The dawn of the
coming strife — the contests between king
and parliament, growing gradually fiercer
as we turn each page — the towering ener-
gy and imbridled ambition of the one,
often so mortifyingly humbled ; the mild
and adroit opposition of the last, untiring,
undivertible proof, alike against bullying
and cajolery, and at last strengthening into
open and formidable resistance ; — the rush
and confusion of civil war ; — the impetuos-
ity of the gallant cavalier ; — the calcula-
ting, irresistible strategy, the cautious am-
bition, the vaulting aspirations of Crom-
well, never revealed till developed by the
consequences, yet never miscalculated or
misdirected ; — the trial, execution, and
heroic fortitude of the unfortunate Charles,
are all pictured with startling effect, and
treated in a way which tells all who read
that a master's hand is guiding them through

the mazes of a period in the world's his-
tory, where small minds should never in-
trude for other puipose than to in<|uire.

We cannot find that our author anj'--
where condemns the execution of the king
as an act of injustice^ or moral turjntude,
on the part of his grim slayers. Yet we
must venture to say that we have always
viewed it as such in the most aggravated
form, at the same time that we fully admit
the faults and crimes of Charles. We can
never be brought to believe that subjects
have the right to inflict, in cold blood, and
under a mock form of trial, the last penalty
of the offended law, or rather, as in all in-
stances of this character, of no law at all,
on the person of their constitutional and
legitimate monarch. Yet we .do not,
by any means, subscribe to the doctrine of
passive obedience. We object only to the
character of the remedy. The punish-
ment of James the Second was quite as
efiicacious, as to consequences, as the more
revolting punishment which overtook his
hapless brother. One is justifiable and
proper, and the undoubted right of every
free people ; the last is odious, unwarrant-
ed, and wholly inexcusable, in point of
justice and sound morality. It cannot be
defended even on the grounds of necessity,
policy, or example. The banishment or
imprisonment of Charles would have been
sufficient security to the new government,
as was evidenced both in the case of Charles
the Second, and of James the Seconi;
and as the office of king was about to
be abolished, it was needless on the score
of example.

Mr. Macaulay, however, in a most beau-
tiful and powerful passage, demonstrates
the execution of Charles to have been, if
not a crime, at least that wdiich Fouche
pronounced as worse than crime, a politi-
cal blunder. His public execution, his for-
titude, his christian meekness and courage
in view of death, his adroit protest against
the forms and authority of his condemna-
tion, his public appeal in favor of the an-
cient and venerated laws of the realm,
threw all advantages against his enemies,
and clothed him in the apparel of a mar-
tyr. "From that day," says our author,
"began a reaction in favor of monarchy
and of the exiled house, a reaction which
never ceased till the throne had again been
set up in all its old dignity."

354

Macaulmfs History of England.

[April,

The succeeding pages, descriptive mainly
of tlie Protectorate of Oliver, though writ-
ten with great power of argument, and per-
spicuity and splendor of style, betray again
the evident penchant of the learned author
to lay hold on every thing which may be
wielded, even through the august medium
of history, in favor of the principles and
political tenets of that party to which he is
so prominently attached. The English
people may well be proud of the govern-
ment of the great Protector, but, to the
eye of Mr. Macaulay, it seems to afford
peculiar charms. The praises which he
has taken care to " dole''' (begging his par-
don for using a phraseology which we
humbly think he has fairly ridden down in
these volumes,) so sparingly out to the
monarchs and statesmen at whom he has
been previously glancing, ingeniously la-
vished on this cold-hearted, unprincipled,
though gifted usurper, with showery profu.-
sion. Not that there is aught of elabora-
ted eulogy or fulsome panegyric. Every
body acquainted with his writings must
know that Mr. Macaulay does not at all
belong to this class of authors. He pos-
sesses too much of taste and stern un-
bending independence for such a task. He
appears greatly to prefer the office of judge
to that of advocate, of censor to that of
flatterer. But he seems now to forget, or
to be too willing to pass over the crimes and
odious qualities of the regicide in the high
admiration which he evidently feels for the
lofty genius and bold character of the Pro-
tector of England's proud Commonwealth.
At the same time he cannot refrain from
an occasional tilt with his favorite weapons
of sarcastic, crushing ridicule against the
sanctimonious pretensions and drawling
hypocrisy of this arch politician and intri-
guer. Whilst we hear much of the glory
and greatness of the Protectorate — its
formidable power — its prominent umpirage
in Europe — the dread it inspired abroad —
the respect it extorted at home ; we are
reminded now and then of the author's
fondness for " old Mortality," or " Wood-
stock," by a sly thrust at corporal preach-
ers, versed in Scripture, leading the devo-
tions of backsliding colonels and majors ;
at canting, sour-faced hucksterers who
cover a thirst for blood under the garb of
righteousness and godly pretensions, and

at the contemptible, ludicrous picture of
Lord Oliver's Barebones Parliament.

But it is very easy to perceive from a
perusal of this portion of the history,
when taken in connexion with other pro-
ductions from the same gifted pen, that
Mr. Macaulay is not only a Roundhead in
sympathy and political prejudices, but that,
of all great men who have ever stamped
undying influence upon the world, Crom-
well occupies the first and highest place in
his estimation. Whether this exalted opin-
ion of one so generally hated by all readers
of history, is induced by an undisguised
detestation of Charles and his party, or by
an excusable pride in the glory which
Cromwell threw around English character,
or by community of political and religious
predilections, we shall not venture to say.
Certain it is, however, that while our au-
thor ranks him inferior to Caesar only in
taste and polite accomplishments, he places
him far ahead of Napoleon in native
strength of mind, and in all the cardinal
qualities (invention only excepted) which
form the characters of truly great men.
We do not find this comparison in the
pages which now lie open before us ; but
we find it in pages far more brilliantly writ-
ten, brilliant as these are, and where it is
evident Mr. Macaulay spent his principal
force of thought and power of composition.
Indeed the character of Cromwell is far
more forcibly drawn in the admirable re-
view of Hallam's Constitutional History by
this author, than in the more labored work
of his P^nglish history. It is from the
review that we derive our opinion, mainly,
of the author's antipathies and predilec-
tions. Indeed, the recollection of these
previously expressed, and, doubtless, more
candid sentiments, prepared us to examine
this portion of the history closely and cau-
tiously. We wished to guard against un-
wary temptations by a brilliant author, who
might carry into a work of history the bias
of early and cherished prejudices, and the
influences of that Jesuitical acerbity of
thought which kindles so easily in the mind
of a partizan reviewer. W^e now find
that we did not act unwisely. The same
course of thought and the same one-sided,
prepossessed judgment which we easily dis-
cover in the reviewer, we find existing in all
then- oriffiual force in the mind of the histori-

1850.]

Macaulajfs History of England.

355

an, only somewhat retrenched, perhaps, and
attempered more to the graver character
he now assumes. The Cromwell of the
review, so feelingly and eloquently eulo-
gized, is eminently the Cromwell of the
history. The only discernible shade of
difference is, that, in the last, the scope of
the reflector through which the reader looks,
although one and the same in both cases,
is sensibly and prudently diminished.

We were not a little startled on finding
that ]\Ir. Macaulay, by a kind of specious
negative insinuation rather than by direct
assertion, attempts to persuade his readers
of a fact which we have never hesitated to
disbelieve. This is that Cromwell at one
time had serious notions of interfering to
save the King from murder by his infuri-
ated partizans — infuriated, too, by Oliver's
own artful teachings and profound intri-
guings. Our author even goes farther, in
another place, and endeavors to leave the
inference that Cromwell, if he had been
left alone, would have desired to restore
the Stuarts." The two passages from which
we take these impressions are the follow-
ing : " Cromwell had to determine whether
he would put to hazard the attachment of
his party, the attachment of his army, his
own greatness, nay, his own life, in an at-
tempt which would probably have been
vain, to save a Prince whom no engage-
ment could bind. With many struggles
and misgivings, and probably not without
many prayers, the decision was made —
Charles was left to his fate." — {p. 119.)
Again, a few pages afterward, we meet
with the following in describino; the dilem-
ma in which Oliver found himself placed
after he had slain his sovereign : " The
course afterward taken by Monk was not
open to CromweU. The memory of one
terrible day separated the great regicide
forever from the house of Stuart." — {p.
124, vol. 1.)

Now, in the first place, Mr. Macaulay
wUl find it difiicult to persuade most of his
readers that this crafty usurper ever put up
a sincere prayer after he had begun his
public career, or after the first faint sparks
of his lurking ambition had begun to kin-
dle and burn. Measuring the rise and the
stealthy, d.'cply-planned progress of this
amazing career by its still more amazing
consequences, no one can fail to perceive
that from the very first outbreak of civil

war, the designs of Cromwell were directed
to nothing less than supreme power. His
own mysterious and politic conduct on aU.
important occasions, the assiduous court
which he managed always to pay to the
army while training and inuring it to the
strictest discipline, his fierce and unrelent-
ing mode of carrying on the war, together
with the concurrent opinions of all previous
writers of English history, leave this clearly
to be deduced.

In the second place, it is quite discerni-
ble, we think, that Mr. Macaulay, in his
great zeal to throw every palliative cir-
cumstance around the character of his
great favorite, has been led to adopt this
opinion from contemporaneous journals and
memoirs of interested witnesses, many of
whom are referred to and quoted by Mr.
Hallam. Ministers, ofiicers, and asso-
ciates, (who mainly compose this class of
writers,) who sm-vived Oliver, and who
lived after the restoration, would be very
naturally inclined to interpolate everything
of this character in their account of a pe-
riod which was abhorrent to the reigning
family — and the friends of the Protector
had too long possession of the public ar-
chives and documents, and were too wUy
and sagacious to have neglected such an
opportunity of preparing for a reverse or
reaction. If, a century or two hence, a
historian of the French Consulate and Em-
pire were to build up the character of
Napoleon from materials of this description
alone, and to discard those more vigorous
tests of deeds which the Saviour of mankind
himself inculcated as the true standard of
judgment, and to which selfish man must
be brought if we would ascertain his true
nature — who of that generation could ques-
tion the patriotism or purity of a single act
of his public life } We choose, therefore,
to put aside all evidence of this character
in making up an opinion of Cromwell, and
to trust to it no further than it can be le-
gitimately reconciled to his deeds. By
those deeds and their intrinsic merits must
we alone seek to measure the great Pro-
tector. The feats of personal prowess per-
formed on the field of Marston INIoor, the
consummate generalship so conspicuously
displayed at the decisive battle of Naseby,
the haughty expulsion of the Long Parlia-
ment, was no more done by Oliver to save
Charles' life or to restore the Stuart dy-

356

Macaulmfs History of England.

[April,

nasty than was tlie fisry charge of Napo-
leon at Areola, or the dispersion of the
French deputies at St. Cloud hazarded
with the view of restoring the Bourbons.
Covetousness of supreme power, ambition
to rise on the ruins of government, were the
governing influence and chief motive with
both the stern Englishman and adroit Cor-
sican.

The concluding pages of the first chap-
ter abound with the vigorous and spirited
description characteristic of this writer.
They are read with the intense interest
which is created when one is drawino- nij^h
to the denouement of a novel like Kenil-
worth or Woodstock. Like the novelist,
our author holds his readers in a delightful
suspense when dwelling upon the feigned
irresolution of Monk ; and we almost for-
get, in our admiration of the singular power
with which the exciting scenes are brought
to their conclusion, that the catastrophe
has been familiar to us fiom childhood.
Fancy pictures with a vividness that
amounts almost to reality, the eager sus-
pense in each countenance, when first the
tidings of Monk's advance were announced
in London. Then appears the whole gor-
geous panorama of which all England was
the scene. Hill and vale, field and forest,
teem with multitudes flocking, with open
arms, to welcome the hardy legions of the
Scottish army. Cavaliers and roundheads,
monarchists and republicans, churchmen
and regicides, make up this enthusiastic
and strange asseniblage — all united against
one artful and dangerous foction. Every
eye is now anxiously turned on the cold-
blooded, taciturn, inscrutable general, on
whose decision rests the destiny of Eng-
land. At length he summons that con-
vention which invited the long exiled and
friendless monarch to the home and inher-
itance of his ancestors. Then are seen the
flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes of the
down-trodden, persecuted cavaliers, whose
lips, after long years of tortuous silence,
are now at last unsealed — and the excited
reader almost finds himself listening to
catch the wild strains which ascend heaven-
ward, as thousands of glad voices mingle in
chanting one of those pensive lays which
were treasured secretly during the iron
sway of " old Noll," and rude snatches of
which Su' Walter Scott so aptly puts into

the mouth of his unique character of Roger
Wddrake :—

" Though, for a time, we see Whitehall,
With cobwebs hung around the wall,
Yet heaven shall make amends for all,
When the king enjoys his own again."

Then opens the beautiful picture which
closes all, and which our author so briefly
but brilliantly describes. We see again
that exciting scene which so charmed us
in the closing pages of Woodstock. Clouds
of dust in the distance, blazing rockets
streaming against the brighter rays of the
sun, tell us that the restored wanderer is
approaching. " Onward come, pursuivant
and trumpet ; onward come, plumes and
cloth of gold, and waving standards dis-
played, and swords gleaming to the sun ;
and, at length, heading a group of the no-
blest in England, and supported by his
royal brothers on either side, onward comes
King Charles."* He is seen to pass amid
smiles of welcome, and tears of joy, and
exultant acclamation. But what sullen,
sour, staid faces are those which, amidst
this general joy, alone venture to frown at
the monarch's approach } Let the answer
be given in the matchless language of our
author. " On Blackheath the army was
drawn up to welcome the sovereign. He
smiled, bowed, and extended his hand gra-
ciously to the lips of the colonels and ma-
jors. But all his courtesy was vain. The
countenances of the soldiers were sad and
lowering, and, had they given way to their
feelings, the festive pageant of which they
reluctantly made a part would have had a
mournful and bloody end."

We have long thought that this splen-
did scene, on which both " the great
Unknown" and " the great Known" have
bestowed their inimitable powers of descrip-
tion, must have been one of the'raost exciting
and joyous spectacles that the world has
ever witnessed ; and this declaration, we
trust, will find us some allowance with the
reader who may chance to judge us austere-
ly for thus long dwelling upon it.

Having, at the end of the first chapter,
safely "lodged the restored wanderer in the
palace of his ancestors," Mr. Macaulay
opens his second with a wholesome and as-

* Woodstock—page 283, vol. 2.

1850.]

Macaulay's History of England.

357

tute, though rather uninteresting disquisi-
tion on the condition of the English govern-
ment at the era of the Restoration. He
condemns the inconsistency and bad policy
of allowing the exiled family to return with-
out exacting new and reliable securities
against mal-administration, though he in-
clines to disagree with the majority of his-
torians in representing the Restoration as a
disastrous event. He seems to think, and
justly no doubt, that this event, all unquali-
fied as it was, delivered the English people
from the domination of a soldiery that equal-
led the Pretorian bands of Rome in capri-
ciousness and ferocity. The crisis which
followed the deposition of the weak succes-
sor of Cromwell was, indeed, one of immi-
nent danger to the integrity of the ancient
and venerated constitutional government of
England. A fanatical and intolerant fac-
tion had seized the reins, and supreme
power was on the verge of passing into
hands which would soon have demolished
all the cherished landmarks of constitution-
al liberty, and substituted instead a rule
more galling, more repulsive, and far more
precarious than that even of the Rump
Parliament which had been indignantly
kicked out of doors by Cromwell. Then
or never, therefore, was the time for all
lovers of rational liberty to harmonize and
unite, adjourning, as JMr. Macaulay says,
all factious differences until a more con-
venient season. Monarchy was found to
be far preferable to anarchy. The body of
the English people acted with characteris-
tic judgment and good sense ; dissenting
politicians and religionists united for the
common-weal, and the fruit of that union
was the speedy andtimely restoration of the
exiled monarch.

This chapter is truly a history ; differing
thus from the first, which is more in the
style of a review. It is a succint and neat-
ly arranged narrative of facts, interspersed
with less of that digressive and contin-
uous es.saying which we find in the prece-
ding, with fewer of the romantic and enter-
taining episodes which abound in those that
follow, and with very little indeed of that
proneness to tiresome biographical detail
which disfigures the entire work. If the
whole had been written in the style and
method of the present chapter, the book
might truly have been less brilliant, less
entertaining, and less rapidly sought after

by the multitude. But, at the same time,
there can be little doubt, we think, that it
would more surely have outlived this mere
ephemeral and superficial popularity, and
be finally stored away with such authois as
Hallam, as Robertson, and as Clarendon,
as a work to be consulted hereafter, more
for solid instruction and authority than for
entertainment merely.

During the earlier years of Charles tlie
Second's reign, England may be said to
have been in a state of transmutation. Dur-
ing the reiijn of the Puritans all kinds of
public and private amusements were sedu-
lously and harshly discouraged. The whole
country was a vast religious camp-ground
for the operations of drawling snuftlers like
" Tribulation Wholesome," or "Zeal-of-the
land Busy," like " Praise God Barebones,"
or " Boanerges Stormheaven." The cot-
tages were filled with prototypes of " douce
David Deans," — the palaces with syco-
phantic minions of Pym and Harrison. The
public squares, the village-greens, and cross-
roads were nowhere made merry by Punch
and Judy, or May-day festivities. Draw-
ling sermons, tortuous prayers, and nasal
psalmody in " linked sweetness long drawn
out," had supplanted all such abominations
and sacrifices to the beast and to Baal. The
nose of Ichabod Crane would have been
rarely valued in an age which produced
Ludowick JNIuggleton, and other fervent
" sons of grace," like himself. Such was
the social condition of England when the
"merry monarch" came home to his in-
heritance with Wilmot and Villiers, and
their accompanpng trains of bastards and
prostitutes, and pasquinaders and buffoons.
The transition was sudden — startling — be-
wildering ; but, in one sense it was complete.
It was liiie exchanging on the moment, the
sombre gloom of a prayer-meeting conduct-
ed by saints and psalm-singers, for the
gorgeous brilliancy and entrancing scenes
of an opera saloon. In a short time, too
short, it seemed, to be otherwise than a
pleasing vision of the night, the churches
which had long been closed to the establish-
ed form of worship were again opened, and
nave, and arch, and gallery, whose echoes
had long been silent, once more resounded
with those loved and melodious strains which
the solemn organ hymned forth to celebrate
this joyous exit of intolerance and persecu-
tion. The down-trodden and proscribed

358

Macaulai/s History of England.

[April,

drama was speedily resuscitated, and the
play-houses were crowded nightly with blaz-
incf devotees of fashion and pleasure. The
glittering pageantry of Whitehall dazzled
eyes which had long been accustomed to
view with awe the grave and stately pomp
of Cromwell's court. The voluptuous
charms and winning graces of Eleanor
Gwynn and Louise de Queroaulle shone
with a lustre in the saloons and drawing-
rooms that called up lively images of Ver-
sailles and Marly, and which dimmed the
vision of those who could scarcely credit
that tJiese were the successors of Mrs. Ire-
ton and her staid sister. Armed troopers
and godly expounders of the Word were no
longer jostled in the ante-rooms of the pres-
ence-chamber. Ambassadors, and nobles in
their robes of State, lords of the bed-cham-
ber in their flowing, splendid vestments,
gaudily attired pages in waiting, and liver-
ied lacqueys had now taken the place of
these ; while, in the presence-chamber it-
self, was seen a showy, easy mannered and
accomplished personage, affording, in every
respect, a singular contrast to the grave de-
portment and mean appearance of his grim
predecessor. In fact, it was everywhere
evident that the domination of the saints,
both socially and politically, was forever
done. Nor is it to be taken for granted
that all even of this class mourned the
downfall and overthrow of the sombre and
cheerless reign. Many humble cottagers
and peasants who had conformed to the pre-
vailing habits doubtless for peace and se-
curity, rejoiced when the time came that
they might safely indulge once again in
fond Christmas festivals, and week-day
convivialities ; and wild country squires,
and rude jockeys and sportsmen hailed the
return of that liberty vrhich relieved their
halls of crop-eared lecturers and exhorters,
and allowed them again to bear-bait and
horse-race. Some who, in the days of
the Protectorate, had been most fervent
and vociferous in amens and ejaculations
during worship, afterwards took petty bribes
to pimp for Buckingham, and introduce
favored rivals of the king to the boudoir of
Barbara Palmer. Indeed, if the divine
standard of secret thought and forced com-
pliance to right be erected by which to
judge, we should doubt most seriously
whether the moral condition of England
was at a lower ebb after the Restoration,

than during the saintly dominion of Crom-
well.

Wc were pained, however, to find on
page 169 of this chapter, more evidence of
that bitter spirit which influences our author
in his opposition to the Episcopal form of
religion. Not satisfied with denouncing
the prevailing immorality of libertinism,
both in the political and social world, Mr.
Macaulay indirectly, and by insinuation,
seeks to lay some of the blame on the
Church of England. We are^ prepared to
admit that her clergy were too intent on
religious vengeance against Puritans, and
too eager in extorting amends for the pil-
lage and deprivations they had suffered
from their stern persecutors. But the pure
morality of the liturgy, the whole admira-
ble economy of the Church, stand forth in
noble vindication of slurs which a historian,
whose duty is rather to instruct than to
proselyte, should be cautious in throwing
out. Yet our author does not hesitate to
use the language of the following senten-
ces. " The ribaldry of Etherege and
Wycherley was, in the presence, and under
the sanction of the head of the Church,
publicly recited by female lips in female
ears, while the author of the Pilgrims Pro-
gress languished in a dungeon for the crime
of proclaiming the Gospel to the poor. It
is an unquestionable, and a most instruc-
tive fact, that the years during which the
political power of the Anglican hierarchy
was in the zenith, were precisely the years
during which national virtue was at the
lowest ebb."— (^9. 169, iW. 1.)

It is impossible to mistake the intention
of the author in these sentences, or to
avoid the inference so unfavorable and un-
just to the integrity of the Church of
England. Does Mr. Macaulay mean to
say that the Church was scandalized in the
person and by the vices of the monarch, or
that she is responsible for the same } And
yet it would seem that such are the points
of allusion, inasmuch as "the head of the
Church" allowed and countenanced ribald-
rous indecencies. Under the statute of
Henry the Eighth the king " is reputed to
be the only supreme head in earth of the
Church of England." This important re-
lation of the king to the Church is attribu-
table to the connexion in England between
Church and State, and is of a legal or go-
vernmental character exclusively. In this

1850.]

Macaulaifs History of England,

859

capacity he has the right to nominate to
vacant bishoprics, to convene, prorogue, re-
strain, and dissolve all ecclesiastical convo-
cations. He alone receives a resignation
from the chief dignitary of the Church, the
Archbishop of Canterbury ; and to him lies
the ultimate appeal in Chancery, from the
sentence of every ecclesiastical judge. This
is the sum and substance of Blackstone's
interpretation of this connexion of the king,
as the supreme head, with the Church.
But, in no case, is the king named as guar-
dian of the spiritualities of the Church.
" During the vacancy of any see in his
province," says the great commentator, in
speaking of the Archbishop of Canterbury,
" he is guardian of the spiritualities there-
of, as the king is of the temporalities."
Under this view of the subject we think
Mr. Macaulay's readers have the right to
complain of his disingenuousness in this
instance. It certainly is unfair to arraign
the Church for the immoralities of a king
who is only her supreme temporal head by
virtue of his sovereign prerogative, and
who is the recipient and never the dispen-
ser of her spiritual benefits. The expres-
sion, altogether, is less worthy of an impar-
tial historian than of a disputatious and
biassed controversialist, and forn)s an excep-
tion to the general tone of the chapter.

The latter part of this first sentence,
quoted above, can only be characterized,
we are bound to say, as demagogical, and
as being strangely out of place in a grave
work of history. Nor is this all. It does
not strictly convey the truth, nor does it
leave the truth to be inferred. At the
time of Bunyan's most unjust confinement
he was not "the author of the Pilgrim's
Progress," and it is more than probable
that had he never " languished in a dun-
geon," that beautiful and treasured allegory
would never have been given to an admir-
ing world. During the civil war Bunyan
had borne arms in the Parliament army,
and imbibed all their austere notions of re-
ligious duty and severity of life, as his
after career proves. Having inflicted upon
himself a series of mental tortures which
would have terrified a monk or a friar, he
turned preacher, and, in open defiance of
the law, began to proclaim tenets and doc-
trines which were deemed mischievous, and
as being too nearly allied to the dangerous
inculcations which had led to the fierce

persecutions of the commonwealth to be
publicly allowed ; and for this contumacy
and opposition to government, and not " for
proclaiming the Gospel to the poor," was
John Bunyan thrown into prison, and left
to drag out a miserable confinement of
twelve years, narrowly escaping the trans-
portation to which he had been condemned.
It did not matter in the eye of the law, nor
do we presume that it was in(|uired into on
his trial, whether his hearers were men of
wealth, or poor men; the sentence, in
either case, would have been the same. It
was during this long and painful imprison-
ment that Bunyan conceived ideas of
authorship ; and then it was, in the depths
of a dungeon more sombre and solitary
than the valley of the Shadow of Death
through which Christian is made to pass in
his road to the Delectable Mountains, that
he indited that wonderful book which has
made him the delight of nm-series and fire-
sides, of the palace and of the cottage, and
which has given immortality to the name of
a tinker's son. It may not be without its
purpose, that we add to this narration the
fact that Bunyan was, at last, released from
prison through the influence and interces-
sions of one of that " Anglican hierarchy,"
which Mr. Macaulay so sweepingly dispar-
ages in the page before us.

We are unable to perceive anything else
than the ebullition of strong prejudice in
the " unquestionable and instructive fact "
which the author states in the last sentence
quoted. Apart from this, we cannot dis-
cern its force and meaning. We cannot
discern its pertinence to the Idsiory at all.
But, admitting the fact, we deny the truth
of the inference intended to be deduced.
The fact may be true, and yet not detract,
in the least, from the spiritual integrity or
moral pretensions of the Church. If the
legal re-establishment of the " Anglican
hierarchy," after years of persecution and
proscription, is to be termed the " zenith
of its political power," we do not perceive
why this should connect the same with the
profligacy of the age, or make the Church
responsible for the " low ebb of national
virtue," immediately after the Restoration.
Political power may be conferred and con-
firmed in a day, and from the date of the
enactment. Spiritual influence is the work
of time, of labor, and of unremitting dili-
gence. At a time when all England was

860

Macaulayh History of England.

[April^

wildly enga^red in celebrating the joyous
Carnival which had, in this instance, suc-
ceeded a tortuous and long Lent, was deli-
rious with excitement, and mad with de-
light at escape from Puritan dominion, it
might not have been safe or politic, it cer-
tainly would have been no easy task, for the
Church stringently to have interfered so
soon after her own restoration, and to have
impressed her pure morality and admirable
precepts on a giddy population.

We have very great veneration for the
ancient and venerable Church of England,
as well as for its more faultless branch in
the United States, and, American though
we are, would most sincerely lament its
downfall as politically connected with the
government. We believe that separation
would prove fatal, or, in other and plainer
words, that the destruction of the one
would be the inevitable destruction of the
other. Much of England's national glory
and all of England's happiness is attri-
butable to her admirable and cherished
social attachments and associations, and
these last are closely interwoven with her
Established Church. We can appreciate
and understand our author when he speaks
of Cavaliers, who, indisposed to " shape
their lives according to her precepts, would
yet fight knee-deep in blood for her Ca-
thedrals and palaces, for every line of her
rubric, and every thread of her vestments."
She is intimately connected with all the
associations of love, with all the tender re-
lations of marriage, and with all the fond
endearments of home and of family. She
is a bond of union between hostile factions
in the state. Even civil war and ruthless
proscription could not eradicate her influ-
ence, or destroy the stronghold she has on
the affections, the associations, and social
prejudices of a majority of the English
people. It is, indeed, " an unquestionable
and a most instructive fact," that since
her legal existence and connexion with the
state, no hostile foot has trodden her soil,
even if we make an exception of the de-
scent of William the Third which was in-
vited and connived at by the whole nation,
and in which Englishmen were the prime
movers. We have no desire to sec these
strong ties severed, or this fortunate union
of Church and State broken, in a country
where is centred the peace and prosperity
of two great continents. We fully believe

Mr. Macaulay when he says, " that a civil
war of a week on English ground would
now produce disasters which would be felt
from the Hoangho to the Missouri, and of
which the traces would be discernible at the
distance of a century." — {p. 32.) And
it is for these reasons, and these alone,
that we regret that a writer of this author's
great influence and celebrity, should par-
tially convert a work of history to the pur-
poses of depreciating an institution, and
disparaging an establishment, in the most
vital of its claims to honor and reverence,
on the perpetuity of which, as we humbly
conceive, depends the welfare of the Eng-
lish government, and, in that, the peace
and prosperity of the whole world.

But the same people who, in this age of
profligacy and immorality, were entertained
with the lewd productions of Congreve and
Wycherley, were also sufficiently impressed
with the interests of civil liberty and pri-
vate rights to project and extort the great
act of Habeas Corpus, the day of the sanc-
tion of which our author justly denomi-
nates " a great era in English history."
This key to the dormant and inactive im-
munities contained in the Great Charter
was reluctantly given over to the English
people by their jealous monarch. Our
author tells us (page 232,) " that the king
would gladly have refused his assent to this
measure, but he was about to appeal from
his Parliament to his people on the ques-
tion of the succession, and he could not
venture, at so critical a moment, to reject
a bill which was in the highest degree pop-
ular." So materially, we thus perceive,
do the most treasured rights of mankind
depend on the caprice or policy of selfish
rulers.

In this chapter we are treated to concise
and spirited accounts of the Popish Plot,
the Ryehouse Plot, the perjuries of Titus
Gates so sickeningly bloody in consequen-
ces, and the treasons of Monmouth,
Charles' bastard son by Lucy Walters, who
was married by his father to the heiress of
the noble Scotch house of Buccleuch, a
house from which collaterally descended,
in long after years, the "mighty wizard of
the North, "'the great " Author of Wa-
verly." The important and romantic in-
terest which belongs to the life of this un-
fortunate nobleman, together with the mel-
ancholy fate which overtook him in the

1850.]

Macaulaifs History of England.

361

reign of his cruel nncle, authorize Mr.
Macaulay iu dwelling on his birth, parent-
age, and early court life and military
achievements, which he does in a manner
at once the most entertaining and instruct-
ive. We are next introduced successively
to three of the most noted political char-
acters, which figure in English history.
These are the younger Hyde, Godolphin,
and Lord Halifax, whose name has been
commemorated, in divers ways, as well in
these United States as in England. Mr.
Macaulay has given a description of this
distinguished and influential statesman,
(the most so of his time,) which, while it
raises our previous estimate of his consum-
mate abilities, rather depreciates our opin-
ion of the consistency and inflexibility of
his character as a statesman and minister.
And we might extend this remark to most
of those great men whose portraits make up
the general contents of this volume and
part of the next. It is a characteristic of
Mr. Macaulay, as a histoi-ian as well as
reviewer, to deal rather with the dark than
the blight side of human character. He
goes mostly upon the levelling principle,
and before he has done with a character of
history, the reader scarcely knows whether
to admu'e or to detest ; and between the
two issues, generally leaves both for a feel-
ing of contempt. We shall give examples
of this propensity of ouv author before these
desultory remarks are brought to a conclu-
sion.

The ludicrous account of the Dutch war
excites our contempt, at the same time that
it moves us to laughter ; and the language
in which this dark story of Charles' reign
is told, shows in a manner the most empha-
tic, our author's utter detestation of " that
feeble tyrant," trembling in his luxurious
palace at the sound of De Ruyter's can-
nons. " Then it was," says our author,
" that tardy justice was done to the me-
mory of Oliver. Everywhere it was re-
membered how, when he ruled, all foreign
powers had trembled at the name of Eng-
land ; how the wStates-General, now so
haughty, had crouched at his feet, and how,
when it was known that he was no more,
Amsterdam was lighted up as for a great
deliverance, and children ran along the
canals shouting for joy that the devil was
dead." {p. 179). And, indeed, at no
period of her history had the cliivalry of

England been at an ebb so low, or her re-
sources so little understood or at command.
Buckingham and Rochester could flirt
with women, and venture a tilt at swords
with jealous gallants or outraged husbands
and fathers ; but they did not relish the
sterner came of meerinof armed Dutchmen
in battle. The few gallant spirits around
the person of the king were disgusted -with
these insolent favorites, and shrank from
encouraging a contest in which such minions
and parasites might exert an influence at
once to be deprecated and dreaded. The
position of England in the European system
during this entire reign was far from being
important, if it was not even despicable.
Indeed, she was almost regarded as the
mere vassal of France, as her monarch cer-
tainly was the stipendiary of France's king.
And yet it was during this same feeble
reign, as we learn further on, that sprung
the first germ " of that great and renowned
army, which has in the present century
marched triumphant into Madrid and Paris,
into Canton and Candahar." To this army
England owes all of her glory and all of
her greatness. Commercial houses whose
operations extend from the Thames to the
Ganges, and from the Exchange of Lon-
don to the bazaars of Pekin and Benares,
would never have reached beyond the
European or American Continents, if even
so far, if the military spirit and strength of
the nation had been less fostered and culti-
vated. Even so late as the present century,
England might have shared, at the hands
of the French Conqueror, the fate of Prus-
sia and of Austria, but for this energetic
and formidable development of her martial
power. It can scarcely be doubted, that
if victory had declared for Napoleon on
the field of Waterloo, England would have
been crushed, or, at least, severely and vi-
tally ciippled. And yet the civil liberties
of England, are not at all endangered by
her grand military system. Experience
has abundantly shown that the arm of go-
vernment generally deemed the most dan-
gerous to free constitutions and free sys-
tems elsewhere, is in this country skillfully
converted into an efficient and powerful
arm of defence to both. England was
never truly great commercially and politi-
cally, until her regular standing army was
regularly established and appointed. Here,
in our judgment, may be found the best

362

Macaulaifs History of England,

[April,

means of solving the enigma which for two
centuries has puzzled mankind. It was not
until then that her policy expanded and
ripened, not until then that her enterpriz-
ing citizens found that great wealth and
great glory might be made to travel hand
in hand, and that both must be found else-
where than within the narrow limits of
their own island. From that moment,
through all disasters and reverses conse-
quent on long and bloody wars, all classes
of society began to improve, and her com-
merce began to spread and to prosper.
Since then, it is true, England has scarce-
ly seen a whole year of uninterrupted
peace with the whole world, but, in the
meantime, she has scarcely experienced
even the slightest retrogression. Trite
maxims of ethics may do to inculcate as
the basis of all proper government in some
countries ; England has staked her destin-
ies on pursuing the more practical system
of politics.

The strong faith of Mr. Macaulay in
bis own plan of writing history, as laid
down in his essay on "history," and given
to the world years since through the pages
of the Edinburgh Review, is abundantly
shown in the third chapter of the first vol-
ume now before us. The whole tenor and
nature evince his desire to come up to his
own standard. The conformity of the his-
tory to the model erected in the essay, in
point of long and occasional prosy detail,
in point of anecdote and memoir, in point of
biographical narration, and in point of mi-
nute statistical inquiry, is admirable and
eminently successful. The same ideas are
advanced in his pleasing review of Mack-
intosh's history of James the Second — " a
history of England" — he there says, after
having gone through his imaginary plan,
" written in this manner, would be the
most fascinating book of the age. It would
be more in request at the circulating libra-
ries than the last novel."

A fleeting shadow of this coming event
to be realized so gratifyingly in his own
case, doubtless prompted this remark. If
Mr. Macaulay's ambition was directed
solely to attain the name of having written
a history most intensely " fascinating," and
which would outstrip competition with
works of fiction in the race of demand at
the book depots, he has every reason to be
satisfied, for his history has been even

more sought after than any of the " last
novels." But with all becoming deference
to so august a judgment, we still think that
history should be written mainly with a
view to something else than these " charms"
so peculiarly fancied by Mr. Macaulay.
With all his staid and severe narrative, and
" majestic etiquette" of method and style,
we must say that we tire less soon of Henry
Hallam than of T. Babington Macaulay,
with all his flowing redundancy of narrative,
his rare accomplishment of style, and his
total disregard of those " conventional de-
cencies" of historical compilation which he
denounces as " absurd."

The chapter under consideration may be
useful to the masses of the curious, and to
such as are fond of minute statistical re-
search, especially in England, but we must
hazard the confession that its great length
its scrupulous, undeviating particularity,
even in the nicest points, and its barren-
ness of general historical interest, wearied
us sadly before we saw its end. The cause
of this may be, and we are boimd to con-
sider was, less in the distinguished author's
want of taste, than in our own want of the
proper appreciative faculties, but so it was,
any way, and the confession must pass for
what it is worth. We surely wished that
the author had sought less to avoid an
error which he so unsparingly condemns
in other writers when, in the essay on
history, he speaks of the most characteris-
tic and interesting circumstances being
omitted or softened down, because too
trivial for the majesty of history. After
preparing to read grave, condensed history
as that " philosophy which teaches by ex-
ample," we cannot find much of interest in
lengthened descriptions of the size of great
towns in such and such a century ; of how
milliners, toy-men, and jewellers came down
from London and opened bazaars under the
trees which surrounded the watering towns
of Cheltenham, of Bath, of Brighton and
of Tunbridge ; and of how fiddlers played,
and morris dancers caprioled " over the
elastic turf of the bowling green" of fine
genial evenings. We do not look for such
things in a work which has just absorbed our
interest in recounting the more solid scenes
of Cromwell's career, and of grave contests
between monarchs and their parliaments.
In Miss Pardoe's Court of Louis the Four-
teenth, and in Mrs. Jameson's Beauties of

1850.]

Macaulayh History of Ungland.

SG3

the Court of Cbarles the Second, we de-
light to read of these pleasing interludes
and romantic indulgences; but, after con-
ducting us to the very eve of that stirring
epoch on which he has promised his read-
ers more particularly to dwell, the ardent ad-
mirers of Mr. Macaulay (in the list of which
we regard ourselves) must pardon us for say-
ing that the author wearied us by this long ac-
count of what we conscientiously look on as
"too trivial for the majesty of history." The
polite literature of this brilliant literary age
does not long arrest the attention of Mr.
Macaulay. A few pages of pithy, forcible
review make up all that we hear of it,
while science and physics are alluded to
only with distant reverence. Both are
themes eminently worthy of the historian's
attention, but our author had treated of
them too fully elsewhere to patiently pause
and go minutely over old ground.

The change in the character and spirit
of Hterature at this period is mainly to be
ascribed to those essential differences which
marked the seventeenth century from the
preceding. With the substitution of living
for the dead languages, new tastes had been
introduced and were grown popular. The
sixteenth century teemed with scholars of
profound erudition; but, iu the latter part
of the seventeenth the new philosophy began
to obtain. As the great writer, fiom whom
we derive these reflections, remarks, " men
were less learned, but more able :" more
subtle understanding and more exquisite
discernment had been diffused through the
republic of letters. At the era of the
Restoration every species of taste had
grown more sprightly, and from this the
literature of that period took tone and
character. Literary ambition and interest
were then mainly absorbed in the drama,
and to this department the change in taste
had also penetrated. In France the racy
and brilliant productions of Moliere and
Regnard had supplanted those of the grave
Corneille, and more exquisite and refined
Racine. In England, as was quite natural
at such a time, the austere and proscrip-
tive antipathy which had banished all sour-
ces of amusement during the reign of the
saints, broke up effectually the continuity
of those works of elder dramatists which
had given tone before to sentunent, and
made way, after the Restoration, for a lighter
more frivolous, and more meretricious

VOL. V. NO. IV. NEW SERIES.

species of dramatic entertainment. One ex-
treme in any department of policy adopted
by one party, is sure to lead to the adoption
of the opposite extreme by another party, in
retaliation, if from no other higher motive.
Such was the case in this instance, and it was
under this new order of things that the genius
of a Congreve, a Dryden, an Etherege,anda
Wycherley, rose to the culminating point,
and attained to such enviable ascendancy.
To the more entertaining and lively pecu-
liarities of style in these writers over the
old school, was added another attraction
which lent superior lustre and f\iscination
to dramatic amusements. This was the
introduction on the stage of female perfor-
mers, who had never been admitted under
the ancient regime. To this bold but
adroit innovation on established custom,
the theatre-loving world is indebted for its
long subsequent acquaintance with the
brilliant histrionic talents and accomplish-
ments of Mrs. Siddons and Miss O'JVeil.
In view of the many attractions of this
fruitfid theme, and of our admiration of Mr.
JNIacaulay as a writer, we have sincerely
wished that he had chosen to retrench other
portions of the chapter before us, and
dwelt more at length on its description.
The few pages, however, which he devotes
to its consideration are captivating beyond
all parallel. We only regret that we can-
not transcribe largely for the benefit of
readers who have not met with the history,
if, indeed, there be such. We may add
that these few pages form the only oasis in
the whole barren waste of this chapter, in
point, at least, of true historical interest.

To quote, then, the full language of
Junius — we now " tm-n'with pleasure from
this barren waste, where no verdure quick-
ens," and where no interest fastens, and
open at a page which more than compen-
sates for all of dryness that may have been
encountered in the preceding chapter, and
which kindles at once to the most intense
and vi\'id pitch. We glide liugeringly
over the successive paragraj^hs, and almost
sigh when the brilliant though melancholy
scene is closed. It will be understood, of
course, by those who have read this book,
that we allude to the author's graphic and
succinct account of the dying hours of king
Charles the Second. All the personages of
the mournful drama, all the scenes and
their singular changes, appear at once he-
24

364

Macaulay's Histonj of England,

[April,

fore the eye, traced and drawn out -with '

remarkable clearness and power. Barbara
and Louise, and Hortensia, the queenly
and voluptuous Duchess of Mazarin, niece
of the great Cardinal, were all there, radi-
ant with robes and gems, lustrous in all
the glories of matchless personal charms.
We see the timid, mild-mannered queen,
abashed before the superior beauties of the
king's frail sidtanas, ventui'ing nervously
to the bedside of her distressed husband,
fearful, even in that awful extremity, of
indifference and repulse. There, too, for
the first time distinctly, we behold the
o-rim lineaments of the stern James, striv-
ing with bastards and prostitutes in kindly
attentions to his departing brother. Then
comes the trials and struggles of Charles
with the Protestant clergymen — their efforts
to console and absolve — bis strange apathy
and indifference. At length the solemn
horn" approaches, the secret has been un-
ravelled by the devoted Louise ; and, by
that secret staircase which has so often
been used by Chifl&uch to introduce frail
damsels to his master's bedchamber, a
Priest of the Roman Catholic Church is
ushered into the room. Then the dying
monarch raises himself from his pillow, re-
ceives meekly the last solemn sacrament,
and preserving to the last, that " exquisite
urbanity so often found potent to charm
away the resentments of a justly incensed
nation," thaidcs his attendants for their at-
tentions and kindnesses, apologises for the
length of time he had been dying, and then
stroke, passes

resignmg himself to the
away without a struggle.

This is the mere abstract of pages which
miffht furnish to a poet ample material for
a tragic drama. No scene was ever more
splendidly or graphically described ; no
living moving scene was ever more clearly
realized, or ever aiforded more intense and
absorbing delight. Innovation, bold and
broad though it be, upon the conventional,
established form of writing history to intro-
duce so lengthy and minute a picture of a
monarch's death-bed, we yet cannot be so
untasteful as to find fault with that which
has afforded us such exquisite enjoyment.
Immediately on the heels of this follows the
account of the proclamation of James the
second as king, and then comes that hollow-
hearted speech to the Council, so profuse in
satisfactory promises which were afterwards

80 shamelessly falsified. From this point
the thread of legitimate historical narrative is
taken up and pursued, with very few ex-
ceptions, to the end of the volume, with
unexceptionable tenacity. With the odious
retaliatory measures of religious persecution
which disgraced the reign of this cold-
blooded monarch ; the tortures of the per-
jurer Gates; the cruel treatment of the
Scotch Covenanters; the contumelious
secret negotiations with France ; and the
assiduously pursued, crafty, mad-minded
effort to crush the Established Church, in
order to restore the supremacy of that of
Rome, we have little or nothing to do m
following up the object of these remarks.
The chapter contains much of biographical
delineation. Sir George Jeffreys and the
brutal qualities of character and disposition
so witheringly attributed to him, fill the
reader with sensations of unmitigated dis-
gust and loathing ; while John Churchill,
the future illustrious Dulie of Marlborough,
is described in that characteristic manner
which, as we have before said, leaves us in
doubt whether to abhor or to admire a man
who filled the world with his fame. The ac-
count of his early life really inspires con-
tempt, and causes a regretful and unpleas-
ing train of emotions when we connect the
same with earlier and more grateful impres-
sions of the victor of Blenheim and Ramil-
lies, the proud conqiieror of Villars and a
brilliant array of brother Marshals ; the
Captain-General of a coalition which em-
bodied such commanders as Eugene and
Peterborough. We give Mr. Macaulay
full credit for candor and accuracy, but we
cannot thank him, in view of these agree-
able associations, for spoiling, with a dash
of his cutting propensity, so interesting and
exciting a connection of historical inquiry.
There is something unmeasureably disgust-
ing,— especially, as we should think, to a
proud Englishman — when we connect the
hero of such mighty battle-fields, the active
agent of so mighty a coalition, with the
mean, low-minded, despicable, and petty
miser and sharper of the history ; with the
kept minion of Barbara Palmer, Duchess
of Cleveland, from whose adulterous bed
he was once forced ignominiously to fly at
the king's sudden approach, or with the
cringing recipient of a heavy purse of
guineas from the haughty paramour, for
having accomplished, so successfully, a feat

1850.]

Macaulay's Hist or ij of England.

365

at once so witheringly ridiculous and full of
hazard. We should as little feel obliged
to an American historian who, in giving
the account of Washington's early man-
hood, should choose to represent the Father
of his country in the midst of his slave
quarters engaged in flogging a refractory
negro tied naked to the stake. Such
scenes in connection with the world's vene-
rated heroes should never find a place in
history which, we are told, is philosophy
teaching by example. We can tolerate,
in such a memoir as that of the Duchess of
Abrantes, the story of Napoleon, as " Puss
in boots," quarrelling with pert young girls,
and of his playing, while Chief Consul, at
childish games of leap-frog and prisoner's
base, dui'ing his recreations at Malmaison.
But how would such a page as this appear
in Thier's history of the Consulate and
Empire, where this same man is shown to
us as the stern arbiter of the Duke D'Eng-
hein's fate, as the victor of Marengo and
Austerlitz, and as the haughty Dictator of
prostrate kingdoms and empires ^ As little
did we expect to derive from the volumes
before us impressions of contempt for the
character of the greatest Commander ever
born in England, and the loftiest ornament
of her history. As Mr. Macaulay is the
first, so we trust he will be the last of his-
torians who seek to combine with the
gravity and decorum of legitimate history
gossiping memoir and scandalous anecdote.
We come now to that portion of these
volumes which has, doubtless, startled all
American readers. In tracing the charac-
ter of William Penn, the venerated Patri-
arch of one of our greatest States, our au-
thor has opened a chapter of his life which
we confess is new to us, and, we imagine,
to a great many others who have preceded
and may succeed us in reading this work.
It is somewhat to be wondered at, that a
man whose shining virtues and spotless be-
nevolence of character have won for him
heretofore the admiration and eulogium of
historians, and whose name has been handed
down through generations, even, of wild,
untaught savages as the choicest model of
his kind, should come in for so immoderate
a share of our author's keen sarcasm and
pungent exacerbation. Even Voltau'e,
the most critical and supercilious of
modern authors, and not famous for univer-
sal leniency and tolerance, yet ascribes to

this good man qualities of heart and of
character that alone would have made him
immortal. — {Diet. Phil., Art. Quakers.)
Yet Mr. Macaulay would have his readers
to believe that WiUiam Penn would have
been delighted to take air passage from
London to Paris to have witnessed the tor-
tures of Damiens. Ho would have them be-
lieve that he was miserly and extortionate,
cringing, time-serving, and hard-hearted,
to an extent that begets abhorrence. Penn,
again, belongs to that class of persons
alluded to some pages back, whom Mr. Mac-
aulay first exalts, then abases ; praises in
one breath, in the next damns ; and then
leaves his readers to doubt and to contemn.
This propensity reminds us of an anecdote,
famihar in Mississippi, of a certain juror
who was called on to try an issue between
two suitors as to the right of property in a
calf. The plaintiff's lawyer states his case
and our jm-or at once conceives a verdict in
his favor. The defendant's lawyer next
explains the nature of his claim, and our
juror yields his first impressions. Finally,
the Judge sums up the testimony, and ex-
pounds the law, and, in this charge so
mixes up the points in dispute, that our
juror finds himself completely riddled, and
protests that he cannot say who does own
the calf. But, — asking the pardon of our
author's admirers for this liberty — we must
introduce one or two extracts from the
work to convey these impressions the more
properly, and to exemplify the justice of
these remarks. After devoting nearly an
entire column to the praises of William
Penn, our author {p. 471, vol.1. J says:
"his enthusiasm for one great principle
sometimes impelled him to violate other
great principles which he ought to have
held sacred. Nor was his integrity alto-
gether proof against the temptations to
which it was exposed, in that splendid and
polite, but deeply corrupted society, with
which he now mingled. The whole Court
was in a ferment with intrigues of gallantry,
and intrigues of ambition. The integrity
of Penn had stood firm against obloquy and
persecutions ; but now, attacked by royal
smiles, by female blandishments, by the in-
sinuating eloquence and delicate flattery of
veteran dijilomatists and courtiers, his re-
solution began to give way. It would be
well if he had been guilty of nothing worse
than such compliances with the fashions of

366

Macaulayh History of England.

[April,

the world. Unhappily it cannot be con-
cealed that he bore a chief part in some
transactions, condemned, not merely by the
rigid code of the society to which he be-
longed, but by the general sense of all
honest men."

Now these involve a charge of the deep-
est corruption, sensuality, and hypocrisy.
The courtier Penn, intriguing with frail,
pretty women, seduced from honesty by
flattery, easily cajoled and easily bribed,
and the grave, benevolent-hearted, scru-
pulous patriarch Penn, treating with, and
winning the confidence of rude sous of the
wilderness, ruling a colony by the law of
justice and morality alone, and then spurning
to obtain royal favor by abjuring the customs
of his society, are two dissimilar characters
which we cannot reconcile. The one is
despicable, the other venerable. We do
not mean at all to impeach the authority
of Mr. Macaulay, but we must see the
proofs before we can be brought to believe
in their identity of person. In this we are
fortified and sustained both by the general
voice of history and the solemn denial of
Mr. Penn himself, when charged as guilty
by his enemies of the court. The mere
fact that such charges were made in Penn's
lifetime cannot be taken as proof of their
truth. Any man who occupies an envied
position is liable to be vitally impugned by
his contemporaries. The charge of " bar-
sain and intrigue" to obtain the office of
Secretary of State under John Quincy
Adams, has been levelled by unscrupulous
enemies against Henry Clay for more than
a quarter of a century ; yet no decent his-
torian would venture to allude to it other-
wise than in the stern language of repro-
bation. Even Walter Scott suffered in
public opinion when it was found that, in
his life of Napoleon, he had condescended
to dignify with historical notice petty scan-
dals against his illustrious subject. We
will hazard the assertion that proofs just as
strong going to show that Henry Clay was
basely bribed, that Napoleon caused Pich-
egru and Captain Wright to be strangled
in prison, and that he whispered proposals
of incest in the ear of the Princess Eor-
ghese, (both of which are alluded to by Sir
Walter Scott, though qualified with the
expression of his disbelief in their truth,)
can be brought up by active, low-miuded
enemies, as any that can be arrayed to

show that Penn intrigued with the court
beauties of James the Second, and was
bribed through his "vanity," as Mr. Mac-
aulay intimates, to abet foul corruptions
repulsive to " the general sense of all hon-
est men." Yet no one ever candidly be-
lieved the first, everybody rejects the sec-
ond ; and we may safely add that no histo-
rian has ever before taken such pains to
prove up the third.

During the reign of terror and bloody
assizes under James the Second, a com->
pany of yoimg girls who had borne a ban-
ner in honor of Monmouth's entry into
Taunton, were suddenly arraigned and im-
prisoned, at the instigation of the queeu'a
maids of honor, in order to wrmg heavy
sums in their ransom from the pockets of
wealthy parents and friends. The maids
made several attempts to engage gentle-
men to undertake this task of unworthy
extortion, but met with indignant rebuffs
and scornful answers. At length they ap-
plied to William Penn. " Penn," says
Mr, Macaulay, " accepted the commis-
sion ;" and then the author adds, signifi-
cantly, " yet it should seem that a little of
the pertinacious scrupulosity which he had
often shown about taking off his hat would
not have been altogether out of place on
this occasion." — (p. QQl .) The sarcastic
tone of this sentence cannot be misunder-
stood, and betrays sufficient evidence of
biased judgment to induce us to take
Mr. Macaulay's character of Penn with
many qualifications and allowances. The
invidious — at least unnecessary — allusion,
in another place, to the fact that Penn
rode post haste from Tyburn, where he had
just seen a man kick his life away under
the gibbet, in order that he might not miss
the show of seeing a woman burned in Lon-
don, strengthens our impressions in this
particular. Now we infer from the gen-
eral character of Penn that a high and
noble humanity of sentiment prompted him
to both these acts — so liable to be used as
the means of blackening his fame. Never
before having met with either in any de-
fined form, (never with the last,) we can-
not venture to contradict or defend further..
Mr. Macaulay himself thinks that this wag
the " probable" motive of Penn on both
these occasions. If we thought for a mo-
ment that such was not certain^ our vene-
ration for the name and memory of Penn

1850.]

Macaulaifs History of England.

367

would be speedily turned into a feeling of
unmitigated abhorrence and detestation.

The first volume of this history closes
amidst scenes of melancholy and blood, ap-
paEing and sickening to an extreme that
inspires disrelish for perusal. The awful
scene of JNIonmouth's execution ; the bloody
assizes ; the hanging, drawing, quartering
and transportation of the hapless victims of
revenge ; rotting skuUs grinning at every
cross-road ; the noisome atmosphere ; har-
rowing scenes of domestic affliction and
suffering — aU told in the peculiar graphic
and forcible style of this author, make up
a total of disgusting facts unparalleled in
the world's history, and which haunt one's
reflections for days after reading of them.

We shall not extend these remarks to
the second volume, at this time ; our only
remaining task is, therefore, to condense
and sum up our impressions of the general
tone and character of the first.

Upon the whole, then, we are inclined
to regard this work more as a terse, well-
digested, and brilliant essay on the history
of England, than, what it purports to be, a
history proper of England. It is altogether
a new visitor to the circles of the literary
world both as to manner and method of
telling history, and, in this sense, has at-
tracted, as was naturally to be expected,
unparalleled admiration. But like all pre-
ternaturally bright bodies in another sphere
of attraction, it partakes more of the me-
teoric than of the fixed or intransitive na-
ture, and, we are inclined to believe, will
be pronounced in the end rather splendid
miscellany than unadulterated history.
But it has served its purpose. Mr.
IVIacaulay has allured many to a branch of
reading which has generally been consid-
ered forbidding and uninviting, and his
brilliant, captivating style has induced and
held many to a task who might have been
repelled by the austere gravity of Hallam,
or the pithy sententiousness and severe
condensation of Hume. He has smothered
the harsh frown and wrinkled brow of
English history, and wreathed her face
with winning smiles, and in this has
achieved a pleasing revolution in the taste
and character of the literary world.
Whilst, therefore, he may not inspire the
distant, reverential awe associated with
Hallam or Robertson, his pages will always
be opened with that agreeable anticipation

of healthy and rational entertainment which
possesses a reader of Kenilworth or Ivan-
hoe. Nor do we consider such comparison
with these last wonderful productions at all
disparaging to the claims of this history.
Sir Walter Scott has, it is true, created
many of his grandest scenes, and clothed
them with a garb and face of startling real-
ity. Mr. jNIacaulay has thrown around real
and authenticated scenes of history all the
dazzling attractions of fanciful conception.
This peculiarity constitutes the principal
charm of his history — a peculiarity and
novelty of feature that must ever secure to
it, independent of glaring innovations and
bold episodings, a welcome place in all pri-
vate libraries. It bears no resemblance to
the historical works of the authors we have
named. To compare Mr. Macaulay's his-
tory to that of any of these, would be like
comparing a lummous mezzotint or rich,
variegated enamel, to the more grand but
at the same time more subdued paintings of
Rubens or Corregio.

When it was made known to the world
that Dagucrre had published his celebrated
discovery — that a process had been invented
by means of which Ufe-like representations
of person and of landscape could be taken
by the agency of light only, reflected
through the camera obscura, that the im-
ages thus produced were so clearly ex-
pressed that sUk might be distinguished
from satin and marble from plaster, every
body predicted that the easel and the brush
would be abolished, and that the art of
pamting would be effectually superseded
by this more speedy and wonderful method.
And for a time it seemed that this predic-
tion would be verified. Painters looked
sad, and began to throw aside canvas and
pallet, and to purchase cameras and copper
plates. Curiosity ran wild. Old pictm-es
and family portraits became objects of jest
and ridicule, and for a moment the splen-
did galleries of Florence and of Rome were
forgotten and neglected. But it was only
for a moment that the daguerrean process
held this supremacy. While all yet ad-
mire the genius of the discoverer and the
strange and novel splendors of the discov-
ery, while the magic operation still contin-
ues to dazzle and to puzzle beholders, it is
yet evident that it is placed subordinate to
the grander and more enduring achieve-
ments of the pencil. In making the ap-

368

Macaulaifs History of England.

[April,

plication of this apologue, (if we may thus
speak,) we mean only to express our con-
victions that historical works of this class
and description, brilliant though they may
be, and sparklingly as they may be wel-
comed, will be consigned to a like subordi-
nate station when compared with the labors
of the elder and greater race of historians.
We do not even mean to say it is our be-
lief that Mr. Macaulay will meet this fate.
There are many reasons to believe that he
will not. His vast genius, his profound
learning, his literary accomplishments, the
fame with which he has filled the two hem-
ispheres as a miscellaneous writer and
reviewer, added to the fact that he is the
author as well as leader of this style of

writing history, may, and most probably
will, effectually preserve him from the fate
of less gifted or less fortunate imitators and
successors.

But it is time these remarks should be
brought to a close. We shall reserve much
that we had intended to say, in this con-
nexion, for some futui'e continuation of a
task which was undertaken less to criticise,
than to endeavor to show that even the
greatest writers, when moving in a sphere
of authorship different from that in which
we have been most accustomed and delight-
ed to hold converse with them, are very
apt sometimes to disappoint high expecta-
tions. J. B. C.

LongWQod^ Miss. Feb. 1850,

..■^

1850.]

Everstone.

369

EVERSTONE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " ANDERPORT RECORDS.

(Continued front page 2S6 )

CHAPTER VII.

Many weeks had not gone by when
Somers learned from an authentic source,
that a person named Joshua Evans had
been met at a small town in a neighboring
county, travelling at his leisure towards
Redland. The lawyer was instantly on
the alert, and proceeded first to Munny's
store, which he had come to look upon as
the centre of information. Joshua had not
been there, however : yet the people told
him that a family of Evans' lived some
eight miles to the westward.

" Let me know the way," said Somers.

" There are two roads," replied Sam
Munny, deliberately.

" The shortest, then."

" That," returned the other, '' goes by
the Long Mill, and so on, up Starving
Branch — but there are eleven chances out
of a dozen that you miss it."

" Well," said Somers, " if that's the
case, describe the other route."

" It leads by Mr. Newlove's house, and
then along to Bartlet's, which is only a
few hundred yards from the place you are
going to. This road is very easy to find."

" And you advise me to take it, do
you.?"

" Why, Mr. Somers, it is certainly about
two miles the longest, but 1 have lived long
enough to have learned that the farthest
way round, is oftentimes the quickest trav-
eUed."

" My experience is the same, Mr. Mun-
ny, and the longest road shall in this in-
stance, at least, be my choice."

As the lawyer passed in front of vSyl-
vester Newlove's residence, his good horse
finding a level piece of road, broke into a
gallop. The rider, in turning his head for
one instant towards the enclosed field on
the right, caught a glimpse of a man run-
ning towards the road, as if to intercept him.
His first impulse was to stop. Then the
recollection of the preciousness of time in-
duced him to hurry on.

Bartlet's house was reached, and after-
wards the Evans' settlement : but no Joshua
could he there see or hear of. Digesting
his disappointment as best he might, in a
stomach which would have been more
pleased by a substantial dinner, the inde-
fatigable lawyer turned his horse's head
eastward and homeward.

At Mr. Newlove's gate, he found Absa-
lom Handsucker waiting for him.

" Mr. Somers ! — I've got you now. But
you went by in wonderful quick time this
morning. I most trotted my legs ofi" in
trying to catch you."

" Well, Absalom, what's to pay .?"

'' Nothing so very great," replied the
manager ; " I only want to know whether
you saw anything of a pocket-handkerchief
between Munny's and here."

"No, I did not."

" I wouldn't make so much fuss about
the article if it weren't silk. I paid ten
shillings for it — that is York shillings, you
understand. It was as good as ever, for I
only used it when I went visiting and to
meeting, and so forth. I thought I felt my

370

Ever St one.

[April,

coat-tail flop liglit all of a sudden as I was
ridiuo; throu,i!;li that big stretch of woods.
I should have stopped, but Jack was so
skippery and seampery that I didn't care
to get oif. It was very late, too — some-
where after midnight."

"That was a fine hour, indeed," said
vSomers, " for a young man to be out scour-
ing the country ! I fear you are getting
into bad habits down South here."

Absalom blushed and chuckled at once
as he answered, "I rather guess the
Shawngo Mountains, if it could tell tales,
would say that 1 didn't have to come here
to learn how to find my way by starlight.
Yet I'd have got off" earlier from Mr.
Safety's last night, but for that man Evans'
coming."

" What did you say } Evans .? Is it
Joshua Evans V

" Yes, sir, I think he gave that for his
first name."

" Is he at Safety's now .^"

" I suppose so," answered Absolom ;
" he seemed to make himself very much
at home there, at any rate."

" If I had only known of this three
hours ago !" ejaculated Somers. " But
no matter — I must make the more haste
now."

" Oh look here, Mr. Somers !" bawled
Absalom after him.

The horseman turned his head.

"Don't forget to pick up that handker-
chief, if you seeit !"

" Is Mr. Joshua Evans here," said So-
mers to Mrs. Safety who came to the door
as he i-apped upon a bar-post with the heavy
end of his whip.

" He went away about an hour and a
half ago," replied the dame.

" Where has he gone .?"

" I do not know ; somebody called and
took him off."

" Who was it, madam, that called V

" I did not see the person's face, sir."

" Is Mr. Safety at home .?"

" No."

" Will Evans be back here this even-
ing .?"

" How should I know, sir V said Mrs.
Safety, with some asperity. " I cannot be
expected to interest myself in the move-
ments of such as he. I don't begrudge
the man his food and lodging — every way-

faring person is entitled to that much, but
of course no Evans can have any further
claim upon a Safety. This is all the in-
formation I can give you — will you come in,
sir.?"

Somers moved slowly away, convinced
of the futility of putting more questions to
Mrs. Safety. In front of a cabin a little
distance off, he noticed a negro sitting on a
drawing-bench and apparently engaged in
dressing shingles. " That fellow," thought
the lawyer, " may prove more communica-
tive than his mistress chooses to be."
Riding up to the man, he said —
" Can you tell me which way Mr. Evans
went .'"'

" I can't say to a certainty, sir," answer-
ed the negro, picking up another shingle,
" but as they passed along here, I heard
old Master Jack speak something about
Hardwater Run."

" It was Mr. Astiville that accompanied
him, then ?"

" Yes, sir. And Mr. Josh Evans got
on his horse and rode with him through the
gap yonder, and, I 'spose, forded the Run
and went up the other side."

" They did not pass by Mr. Everlyn's .?"
" No, sir ; if they had wanted to go
there, they'd have fetched a course right
over the hill, you know, and would'nt have
had anything to cross but the Lower
Branch."

Somers had good cause to fear that his
errand was spoiled and the mischief done, yet
he determined to follow up the trail of which
he had at last caught sight. It was some-
thing to satisfy curiosity, even though no
useful information could be gained. Na-
omi had assured him that Joshua Evans
was aware of the situation of the corner-
stone ; Astiville had protested that he him-
self was ignorant of this; could it be that he
had now taken Evans with him in order io
learn the place and to be able to make way
with the stone ^ It was .^natter for thought.
Having forded the Run below the junc-
tion, Somers turned to the left and went
up the bank of the stream, riding all the
way, of course, on what was incontestably
Mr. Astiville's land. Occasionally on
passing over a sandy place, he observed the
fresh tracks of two horses which had pre-
ceded him in the same direction. On he
went till he had gone beyond any possible
site of the disputed corner. The hoof-

1850.]

Eversione.

371

marks which had hitherto encouraged him
no longer greeted his eager vision. It oc-
cured to his mind that the men whom he
sought must somewhere have struck across
to the Lower Branch, and he himself, with-
out wasting time in a vain effort to trace
them through the woods, bore off in a di-
rect line for the other stream.

But while Somers was riding southward,
Astiville and Evans were returning across
the same ridge a few hundred yards below.
And just about the moment when he reined
his horse by the Lower Branch, they reach-
ed the edge of the Upper one. Let us
leave the lawyer to ride east and west and
to perplex himself at his leisure, whilst we
watch their movements.

Joshua Evans, suffering his horse to
stretch the bridle, and nibble such spires
of grass as could be found within the
compass of a few feet, turned his face to-
wards his companion and said :

" It is most unaccountable. I thought
I should recognize the corner without the
least difficulty. The stone was the largest
and most distintly marked of the whole six,
the grave too, when I last saw it was great-
ly sunken. Yet neither stone nor grave
is now visible on the one fork or the other."

" Yet," replied Astiville, " you say it is
your opinion that the corner stood on this,
the Upper Branch."

" Yes, I feel a conviction next to cer-
tainty that it did. What can have become
of the stone I cannot imagine."

" Nor can I," rejoined Astiville, " It
has now been a considerable time since I
first attempted to trace out this line, and I
assure you, Joshua, that neither then, nor
any day since, have I been able to find the
corner or any signs of it. If in this uncer-
tainty I thought it justifiable to claim all the
land that the law would give, can you blame
me .? I did not wish to deceive Everlyn ;
I told him how the case stood. Assuming
the risk — he has made extensive clearings,
and erected a fine house at great expense.
I could not but grieve to see all this taken
away and he himself in advanced age re-
duced to poverty. You will hear, then,
without wonder that I am determined, for
his sake as well as my own, to relinquish
no right nor shadow of claim, until it is
wrested from me by a decision of the court."

" I think you act fair enough," respond-
ed Evans, " you can't be expected to take

care of the rights of strangers — it's their
own look out."

Astiville, who had brought his man to
the point he wished, continued, " You can
understand, Joshua, why it is I am unwilling
that Dick Somers should get you into
Court."

" Yet what if he did .?" said Evans, " I
am satisfied from this morning's search that
I can't swear to the Corner."

" Ay, Joshua, but do you not see that he
will ask you on which Branch j-ou think it
stands V

" And that would be a hard question to
get over," answered Evans. " Sworn to
tell the whole truth, I should have no choice
but either to say the North Branch or" —

" Or to perjm-e yourself — is not that it,
Joshua .?"

" Yes," said the man ; " it's a rough
word and means an ugly thing. To tell
you the plain sense of the matter, Mr. As-
tiville, I'm no ways anxious to get into any
such scrape, and what's more, nothing
could persuade me to it."

Astiville answered, laughing, " You are
very wise in that determination, Joshua, and
you may reh^ upon it that I myself would hes-
itate a very long time before rendering my-
self liable to the penalties of a suborner. No,
no, we must avoid having occasion to think
of such a thing. Is there any very impor-
tant business requii-ing you to remain about
here.''"

" None. I took a sudden notion to como
in and see Redland once more. According-
ly I'm here. I have been in the county
not quite forty-eight hours, and haven't yet
found anything so special as to make me
wish to stay longer. They say the country
has been improving in the last few years,
and perhaps this is true, but it had been
going down hill so fast before, that a long
while wUl be needed to fetch it back tothe
state it was in when I left it. I don't mind
where I make my home, so I can get good
water to drink and clear air to breathe."

" It is but reasonable to suppose," said
Astiville, " that you must be put to some
inconvenience by leaving so speedily, and
as your departure is prompted by good-will
to me, it is but fair that I should recom-
pense you for all loss incurred. Suppose
I give you fifty dollars down, and send
you a hundred after you have been away
six months, will that suit you ?"

372

Everstone.

[April,

"Perfectly."

" Yet it is necessary," added the otlier,
" that you should go immediately. Somers
will begin a search, I have no doubt, the
instant he hears of your being in the county.
Indeed, it is exceedingly fortunate that he
did not catch you before I did. The same
negro by whom I was accidentally informed
of your having come to Alonzo Safety's,
told me also that Somers passed by Mun-
ny's store this morning. Keep out of his
way, will you .'' He's a keen fellow and
may have a subpoena served in a trice."

"No fear," replied Evans, " I'll be on
the watch, and what's still more to the
purpose, I'll be on the go. The fellow
must have the scent of a blood-hound that
tracks Josh Evans."

" Here then we part," said Astiville ;
" it is as well that we should not be seen in
company more than can be helped. I wish
you a safe journey and good luck at the end
of it."

With this he handed three or four bank-
notes to Evans, who, after quietly deposit-
ing them in his pocket-book, went to pass
the night at Alonzo Safety's.

Astiville crossed the stream and chose a
winding course which brought him at length
to the summit of the hill, near the habita-
tion of Cain, the solitary. He dismounted,
secured his horse by the bridle to a tree,
and entered the cabin.

Cain was sitting in a musing attitude at
the edge of the hearth, on which a few coals
were glowing in readiness to receive the
fresh-skinned rabbit that lay upon the table
close by. He arose at the noise of foot-
steps, and perceiving the visitant, said,

" Is it you."

" Ay, Henry, how do you do this even-
ing .?"

" Why ask me that .?" said Cain impa-
tiently. " Reserve such empty inquiries for
the world. These formal civilities may be
received with satisfaction by others, but they
lacerate my heart. Do you ask how am I (
Surely you are not ignorant that although
suns may rise and set and clouds gather
and disperse, sameness is my portion. You
may have a headache one day, an ague the
next, and be well the following; — bless
Heaven for the variety ! My life admits
of no change, it is one unvarying void. —
No ! Would that it were so. I am plun-
ged to the bottom of an abyss full of hor-

ror, the waters come over me, I am tied,
hand and foot, and cannot rise !"

AstiviUe suffered a few moments to
elapse in silence, and then observed in a calm
indifferent tone, " that's not a very fat
rabbit you have there, Henry."

" No, it is not," rephed Cain, " but you
should have seen one I caught day before
yesterday. It was a dainty fit for a prince.
I need to have something nice since the frost
killed my tomatoes. Yes, John, I haven't
a single one — my favorite vegetable too."

" That is surprising," said Astiville ;
"the frost was not near so bad at Grey-
wood. If you wish, I can send you some
tomatoes from there."

" No — I cannot take them," answered
Cain ; " you know, I'm determined to eat
nothing but what is the fruit of my own
labor. If it is a duty to sustain life, let
that duty be as rugged and difficult of per-
formance as possible. And should the Al-
mighty deprive me of the power of making
my own subsistence, the event will bring
only joy. I shall hail it as the signal that
I am permitted to close my eyes upon these
horrid scenes."

" Henry, do not let your mind bi-ood
thus upon what is passed. Live and be
contented with life for the sake of another
if not for your own. Am I not entitled to
so much regard from you .'"

" Yes, John," said Cain ; " you treat me
far better than I deserve. Of all men you
have most reason to loathe my sight — and
yet your eyes are not averted. You do
not shun me as one accursed ; you even
come willingly into my presence, and offer
consolation and the hope of pardon. I
thank you ; your's is true charity — it is
Christian heroism ; for human nature, un-
assisted, could not attain to such a height of
fortitude. Stricken of God, and only not
abominated by mankind because unknown,
I have sought this wilderness, whose sole
inhabitants, the beast and the bird, fly from
before me. They, poor creatures, only re-
cognize me for a man, and expect no in-
jury greater than all men are fit to render
them. You, John, know what I am, you
feel the horror of my guilt as no one else
can feel it — still you approach me, and by
the might of compassion, you control very
nature and forbid your muscles to exhibit
those shudders which agitate your inward
breast." -

1850.]

Everstone.

373

Astiville replied, soothingly, " If you have
erred, you have suifered. Do not torment
yourseLf further. The sacrifices which you
have made, prove your penitence — this re-
tirement proves it, and surely neither the
law of God, nor that of man can require
more. It is sufficient that you deny your-
self all pleasure ; do not assmue unrequired
pangs. But let us think of something else.
I want you to point out to me, Henry, the
precise situation of the patent corner on the
Run. Come, lead me to the spot."

" I cannot," said Cain.

'' And will you deny me so small a fa-
vor, Henry .? Is this the fruit of that gra-
titude and regard, which you just now so
earnestly professed V

Cain answered : "I will not, I w^ill not
suffer any human being to accompany me
there. Let that spot be covered and hid.
Let no eyes look upon it, but those, which,
like mine, can penetrate the sand and the
sod, and view all that earth attempts to
conceal in her bosom. I dare not take you
with me. Whenever I approach that fatal
place, the man of blood stirs within, the
felon hand again is raised to deal the blow,
— oh, in those moments, may Heaven send
no victim across my path !"

" This is frenzy," said Astiville. " Call
reason to your aid, and lead me to the
corner."

" Frenzy, say you .? Ay, surely, it is
frenzy, and shall you be exposed to its in-
sane violence .-* And what right have
you, or any other man, to look on that
which the Ruler of the elements has hid-
den .'' What claim has the ignorance of
innocence upon sin's knowledge } No ! I
will perish, sooner than uncover that stone
to the sight of any mortal."

Astiville rejoined : " Yet it is necessary
that I should know the corner. I cannot
otherwise establish the bounds of the pa-
tent. A portion of the inheritance may
even be usurped by others."

" What of that .?" exclaimed Clain.
" Better that the whole should be lost —
better that land and forest, and Greywood
itself, should be swallowed up, than that
corner, so fatal to the race of Astiville,
should be brought to light. It is at once
my punishment and my privilege to visit
that spot, and indulge in the meditations
which it excites."

Astiville 's desire to find the corner-stone

was not extinguished, but he thought to
gratify it in a different way. He took
leave of the recluse, and rode off briskly.
Scarcely, however, was he out of sight of
the cabin, than he dismounted, and return-
ed stealthily on foot. Crouching within a
thicket, which commanded a view of the lit-
tle garden, he waited patiently for the time
when Cain should walk forth to the edge of
the Hardwater. After the hands on Asti-
ville's watch had marked the lapse of a full
hour, he observed the tall white-haired
figure emerge from the cabin-door, and
descend the hill. The watcher followed,
and, as he got near the bottom, quickened
his step, in order to distinguish, with
more certainty, the place where Cain should
stop, which place, he doubted not, must be
the site of the corner. As he was creeping
rapidly along, with his eyes fixed upon the
person in whose footstep he was following,
his toe caught in a beech-root, which ex-
tended itself across the path. Before he
could recover himself, he stumbled, and
fell. Cain heard the noise, and, turning
with a startled expression, beheld his dis-
concerted pursuer rising from the ground.

" Can I have no peace .?" exclaimed
Cain. " Must I be doo;2;ed and watched
in this way, and by you .? Has it come to
this, that I may not endure my penance
uninterrupted V

" Do not be angry, Henry," said Asti-
ville.

" It is not anger which I feel," replied
the other, " but sorrow : — and not on my
own account, but yours. That accursed
head-stone ishidden,and Heaven grant that
it may remain so. And must I betray the
spot, which can bring only misfortune and
ruin to every Astiville who visits it .'' No
— a merciful Providence cannot require
that horrid office of me. It is pardonable
to cut short a life, which cannot be pro-
tracted, without bringing destruction upon
those whom I ought to save. I am thank-
ful that this day has come. I can now be-
hold the term of my agony. Yes, I see
my way clear, I have endured all that life
has of wretchedness, and am now permitted
to try what death holds in reserve. The
ends of Justice, also, will thus be best ac-
complished ; life for life is the demand of
nature, and of God."

" Henry, Henry," said Astiville, exhi-
biting the signs of real emotion, " do not

374

Everstone.

[April,

indulge in those wild and wicked thoughts.
I promise, solemnly, to watch you no more.
Go, and meditate where you please, with-
out apprehension of any witness. Be
satisfied with this assurance, and do no vio-
lence to yourself."

" I will think of it," answered Cain,
gravely, and then, with his usual long
strides, hastened back to the cabin.

Joshua Evans, in the meantime, had re-
turned to Alonzo Safety's. Early in the
morning he gratified his portly hostess by
the assurance that he would probably have
no occasion to trespass again upon her hos-
pitality. As the traveller rode slowly
along the front of Munny's store, he no-
ticed a tall man, with long and hoary locks,
standing by the counter, and receiving
from the hand of the clerk, a small glass
vial.

"I should know that face," thought
Evans, " yet the hair is difierent. Pshaw
— I must be mistaken. How silly to think
of such a thing."

" Can you tell me the name of that
long-bodied man .?" he inquired of a negro,
who was loitering in the road.

" Its Mr. Cain," was the answer.

'' I knew it could'nt be him," muttered
Evans, passing on. Yet, in spite of his
eiforts, he could not shake off the impres-
sion which the sudden sight of those long,
sharp features had left upon his mind.
His horse had walked several hundred
yards, when, as if sympathizing with the
rider's wavering purpose, he stopped short.

" I would give anything," said Evans,
to himself," " for five minutes talk with
that man. I have a great mind now to
tm-n about, and go to him."

The impulse was not yielded to. and by
evening Joshua Evans was many miles
beyond the limits of Redland.

As for Richard Somers, whom we left
wandering through the woods between the
two branches of the Hardwater, he did not

desist from his search, until the approach
of evening threatened to add darkness to
the other vexatious difficulties which com-
bined to baffle all his skill and patience.
He then went to lodge with Mr. Newlove.
While sitting there in front of the cheerful
fire, which the frosty air of autumn made
acceptable, he happened to allude to the
subject of the grave at the Fourth Corner.
At this, Absalom Handsucker intimated it
was in his power to throw some light upon
the matter. " Mrs. Safety," said he,
" told me all about it. It seems, however,
that the Astivilles have been very particu-
lar to keep the story shut up, and Mrs.
Safety, — she's some relation to the Asti-
villes,— said she gave it to me in confi-
dence, and did'nt want that I should talk
of it to others."

" Had Mr. John Astiville anything to
do with the affair V inquired Somers.

" No, sir, of course not — at least, he's
no more concerned in it than his father was
before him. You know the grave was made
a long time ago."

It was never easy for Absalom to re-
frain from telling a story, which, he was
sure, would be listened to with interest,
and, before bed-thne, he had disclosed all
that Mrs. Safety had entrusted to his dis-
cretion.

The lawyer was greatly chagrined at
this overthrow of the hypothesis which he
had built up of so many plausible circum-
stances. He saw, with indescribable mor-
tification, that Astiville was entirely guilt-
less of the villainy which he had charged
upon him. Yet he felt more of anger
than of humiliation. Notwithstanding all
evidence, he would not believe that Asti-
ville, whose meanness and purse-proud in-
solence were equally his dislike, had not
been engaged in sins of a darker hue.
Whether Somers retired to his chamber
that night in charity with all men, may be
doubted.

1850.]

Everstone.

875

CHAPTER VIII.

If the lawyer felt discomposure, in re-
viewing the incidents of the day, the slum-
Ibers of his antagonist were also disturbed
by uneasy reflections. Astiville coukl not
forget the purpose of self-destruction, which
bad been darkly hinted by Cain. Selfish-
ness whispered to the rich man, as his
head sank upon a pillow of down, that the
act of suicide, if committed, would rather
promote than oppose his interests. " Why
should I grieve, when he manifests a pur-
pose to do that which it is best for me that
he should do ? And have I not ever gener-
ously endeavored to dissuade him ? No more
can be done ; — let fate decide the matter.
Does he live ? I shall not wish him dead.
Does he destroy himself .'' I will be re-
signed to the dispensation of Providence —
and not only resigned, but content, for, so
long as Henry lives, I cannot be free from
anxiety."

But conscience would not be lulled.
From the moment when he threw himself
upon his bed, till the distant cock saluted
the dawn, Astiville enjoyed no rest. When
he arose, he tried to calm himself with the
thought that all was now over. " What
has been done, has happened without my
will or desire — nay, I resisted it with all
my might. I argued, I entreated, and if
my efforts were vain, siu'ely the fault is his
own, not mine."

Astiville 's ear was startled by his unut-
tered words. Echo seemed to repeat
them over and over again. Then the se-
vere internal monitor, whom no sophistry
can silence, took them for a text : " He to
be blamed, and not you ? Does not the
lie stick in your throat, and strangle you }
You told him that suicide is wrong — was
that a sufficient discharge of duty? You
should have thrown yourself at his feet,
begging, protesting, weeping ; — and never
have ceased to plead until he had relented,
and promised to spare a Ufe which should
be dearer than your own."

Breakfast had passed, the dinner-hour
approached ; — Astiville could preserve the
semblance of tranquillity no longer. He
called for his horse, moimted, and was soon

lost from view in the wide forest, which
extended from the edge of the lawn to the
forks of the Hardwater. As he proceed-
ed he urged his blooded bay faster and fas-
ter ; but no sooner was the log-chimney
of the cabin distinguished throuji-h the
trees, than the gallop at once subsided to
a walk. The horseman displayed not then
the impetuous haste of the courier, who
flies to arrest an execution, but the reluc-
tant, dragging face of a culprit, about to
confront the witness and the judge. Ri-
ding up close to the low fence in the rear,
he was able, without dismounting, to ob-
serve through the aperture, which served
as the window of the rude hut, nearly
everything within. That instant's fearful
glance revealed to him Cain stretched at
length upon the floor, his long, snowy hair
hanging in disorder about his rigid features.
But there was a living human form bend-
ing over the corpse. In that person the
spectator recognized his own son, Howard.
Even more shocked at this sight than at
the other, Astiville turned hastily away,
and dared not again draw bridle, till his
steed, panting and bathed in sweat, re-
coiled from the iron gate of Grey wood.

Howard Astiville had gone out that
morning, with gun and pointer, in search
of game. A flock of pheasants, pursued
from thicket to thicket, led the eager
sportsman to the little clearing which sur-
rounded Cain's cabin. Howard, aware, by
report, of the unsocial character of the in-
mate, had never before intruded upon him,
but he now felt a sudden inclination to
learn something of a hermit's mode of
house-keeping. His surprise at seeing the
old man prostrate on the floor, was changed
into horror, when he read the label, " Lau-
danum," of the partially emptied vial,
which stood on the table. Raising the
body in his arms, he was rejoiced to find
that life was not extinct. He knew of
nothing else which he could do but to
await in intense anxiety the result of unas-
sisted nature's struggle against the narcot-
ic. Finally, the would-be suicide opened
his eyes, and made a languid attempt to

376

Everstone.

[April,

stand upon his feet. Howard contributed
his support. Cain, after a bewildered
glance around the apartment, tottered to
the table, and, seizing the uncorked ves-
sel of laudanum, raised it to his lips.
Howard sprang forward, wrested the vial
from his grasp, and threw it, with its con-
tents, into the fire.

Cain burst into a rage. "Who are
you," he exclaimed. " Who is it that
dares interfere between me and my pur-
pose.'"'

" Howard Astiville."

" Howard Astiville ? Yes, I might
have recognized you by the coarse hair,
black as the raven's wing. Young man,
I could tell you of that, which, once un-
derstood, would prevent any disposition,
in future, to rescue me from my fate.
Are you so young as not to know that
there are those who do not deserve to
Hve .?"

" I know this,^^ replied Howard, " that
the Creator has given no man authority to
be his own judge and executioner. If it
be that you have committed crime, and
wish to undergo the penalty, there are
Courts to which the sword of justice is con-
fided— look to them."

" Yet," said Cain, " what if my oifence
is one which no earthly tribunal will pun-
ish .?"

" Then wait," returned Howard, " till
the great Judge of all shall, in his good
pleasure, summon you to attend his bar."

" Hear me further, young man. When
a wrong is done, those injured must desire
the punishment of the wrong-doer — ought
they not to be gratified ? When they cry
vengeance, vengeance on the guilty, shall
their reasonable demand be baulked ? Is
it just, that because the law of man is im-
potent, they should be compelled to wait
for the tardy interposition of the decree of
Heaven .?"

Howard answered : " Vengeance does
not belong to man. It little becomes those
who sin continually against their Maker,
to be harsh and unforgiving to each other.
If the persons you have offended are capa-
ble of contemplating, with pleasure, your
self-murder, they forfeit, by their want of
charity, aU title to atonement."

" You talk with Christian mUdness,"
retorted Cain, jeeringly. " These are fine
sentiments, indeed, to come from an Asti-

ville, of all others — from a member of that
hot and hasty race, whose custom it ever
has been to exact the severest amends for
a very small injury. You preach forgive-
ness and long-suffering with fluent diction ;
suppose I were to tell you that it is you
and yours that I have wronged .? What say
you now ? Is poison too bad for the wretch
who has done harm to an Astiville .?"

" I can pardon you," said Howard.

" Hold ! Before you utter forgiveness,
would it not be well to learn the crime 'i
Pardon ! — 'tis a word easily uttered.
But whom can you pardon .'' The rival
who impedes your advancement ? — the
knave who picks your pocket ? — or the
slanderer, who defames and villifies you .•*
Pshaw ! why do I speak of such things .?
Yonder stands your dog — no doubt you
cherish and admire him ; he is your com-
panion, perhaps, your friend, and faith-
ful follower. Suppose, now, I snatch
that fowling-piece — I, who have never
drawn trigger these thirty years — and
cause your dog to welter in blood be-
fore your eyes. That would be a little
thing ; — for, what is a dog^ that you should
resent his destruction .'' Yet would you
pardon me .'"'

Howard made no answer,

Cain's lip curled contemptuously. He
took up young Astiville's gun, which lean-
ed against the wall, and said : "I am
strongly tempted to try you, but let the
brute live — he is not human." After a
brief pause he added, " This is a hand-
somely finished gun — I presmne you value
it very highly .^"

" I do — for it is a present from a very
dear friend, and the giver is now dead."

Cain immediately beat the gun violently
against the chimney. One barrel explod-
ed, filling the room with smoke, but he
did not desist tUl the stock was shivered
into fragments. Then he threw what re-
mained upon the floor, and looked at
Howard, saying: " Pardon me."

The young man's cheek, which had paled
a little at the discharge of the loaded bar-
rel, was now flushed with passion. His
breast heaved, and his clenched hand was
half extended.

Cain smiled. " I thought the Astiville
had not changed his nature. Behold how
meek, how patient, how forgiving !"

Howard, unable to restrain his wrath,

.. A.

1850.]

Everstone.

S77

bounded upon tlio man, seized his collar,
and heaved him to and fro.

"That is the right temper," said Cain,
calmly, " I would have your eye flash just
so; but act as well as look. Take up that
iron rod and dash out my brains. I do not
wish to be a suicide, and would rather die
■by your hand than my own."

Ashamed and confounded, Howard re-
linquished his hold.

"• And this," continued Cain, is the youth
who prates like a woman about the duty of
forgiveness ! If you burst into a rage for
such a trifle, what will you not do when
informed of that other and greater ofience .''"

" I know what I ought to do," replied
Howard, " yet, I may come far short of
duty. Tempt me not. It is better that I
should remain in ignorance. Conceal the
knowledge of what you have done within
your own breast, and I will try to forgive
you. Since this hour has shown me my
weakness, I dare not promise more."

" Now you speak well," said Cain ;
'• saints and angels may glory in their
meekness, bat what is humanity save a
compound of impotence and passion .''
Where is the man who can declare before-
hand his conduct in the moment of sharp
and sudden provocation ? Young man,
accustom yourself early to moderate trials,
lest some great one overtake you and prove
irresistible. In your daily meditations an-
ticipate wrongs and insults, and think how
patiently you ought to act if any of them
should really occur. Take an exemplifi-
cation, and this may serve as a case for
you first to practice upon. Your father
once had a brother — suppose that uncle,
whom you never saw, received his death-
blow from my hand — what would you
think of the deed and of the being who
committed it .'"

Howard, at this observation, looked up
inquiringly at Cain, in whose countenance
he read a strange expression which he
knew not how to interpret. The recluse
continued, in a light, careless tone :

" That would not be a matter to harbor
resentment for, would it .'' The thing must
have happened many years ago, and an
uncle is not so very near a relative. Surely
you would not hate me half so much for
that, as for breaking your fowUng-piece
just now !"

" What am I to understand," said

Howard, sternly, " are you in truth guilty
of such an act as your words imply. Yet
I never before heard that my uncle met
foul play. You are jesting with me."

" Yes, you hit the thing precisely.
Jesting ? Of course. Do not I always
appear a very merry fellow .^"

Howard was puzzled, as was evident
from his silence and from his embarrassed
look.

Cain resumed. "I am stating an hy-
pothesis— exercise your powers of meek
forbearance upon it. Tell me now the
result of the experiment. Could you par-
don the murderer of your uncle .'"

Howard remained silent.

" Or would you wish to see him become
in despair the murderer of himself.?
Would you allow him poison, and rejoice
to see him drink it .? Would you furnish
him with the knife and the cord, and teach
him their use .?"

"Tell me!" exclaimed Howard, "am
I to believe you the wretch you describe .''"

What is it to the purpose," replied the
other, " whether the case presented be
feigned or real ? It is 7/our temper I am
testing ; my own guilt or innocence con-
cerns us now not at all. Have you charity
enough to enable you to forgive a man who
had slain your father's brother } Speak
out — own yourself to be, as I suppose, full
of malice and bitter resentment."

" Not so," said Howard, " I could par-
don even one whose hands had been im-
brued in the blood of an uncle. Declare
to me now whether you are thus guilty."

" Perhaps I am, perhaps not — choose
which opinion you may, be sure at least of
this, that you cannot regard me with great-
er horror than I deserve. Yet amidst
your detestation, leave some room for pity.
So help me Heaven, I did not mean what
I did — one moment's ungovernable anger —
but how dare I attempt justification .? A
grievous sin, it was, to indulge that anger,
and God inflicted a righteous punishment
when he abandoned me, a helpless prey to
my furious passions, and gave them power
to lead me whither I would not. You can-
not conceive, Howard Astiville — no man
who has not felt the intolerable torment,
can conceive, what I have suffered from
that day to this. Oh, how fearful may be
the consequences of one hasty impulse — I
have seen the assertion in books, that ex-

378

Everstone.

[April,

istence, though in extreme misery, is pre-
ferable to annihilation — it is a lie, as all
men will some clay be convinced. If I but
saw a possibility of soul and body being
reduced to the nothing from which they
sprang, I could run through flames to reach
that blessed oblivion. But alas ! each
year that rolls over me only adds to the
burden of my sorrows."

Cain sat down and clasped his hands
over his eyes, whilst his whole body shook
convulsively. Howard could not look upon
such distress unmoved. Addressmg the
man in a soothing and sympathetic tone,
he said :

" If the act on account of which you en-
dure this remorse was not intended, alle-
viate your grief — there is a ground of
hope."

" You speak of what you know not,"
replied Cain. " Did I declare the whole
of my crime, no tongue on earth would
have power to falter back words of com-
fort."

" Still," returned Howard, " the sad
deed which you lament was the result of
sudden passion — is it not so .''"

Cain bowed his head.

The other continued: "Nature has
made us all liable to violent bursts of pas-
sion."

"True!" exclaimed the self-accuser;
" and all are guilty when they fail to bridle
wrath. Yes, all are guilty when they feel
the spirit of murder. Condemn every
man you meet, condemn the tottering in-
fant that shakes his puny fist in anger, con-
demn your own heart — but do not dare to
justify 7«e."

Cain rose and paced up and down the
uneven floor of the hovel. Occasionally he
would stop and muse with folded arms.
After these brief pauses, he walked more
furiously, and cast around him a wild and
piercing glance. At length he halted ab-
ruptly in front of Howard, and spoke.

" Do not I appear like a frantic and dis-
tracted man .?"

Howard making no answer, he continued,
" I sometimes think I am. I wish with all
my heart I were so. Yet you are without
bias and can judge better; do I not seem
deranged .?"

Still receiving no reply from Howard,
he added in an elevated and fierce tone, —
" Come — let's have no hesitation. You

must acknowledge it — I am mad, am I not .'
Speak ! or I'll tear the words out of you.
What other proof do you require } Must
I throttle the fellow to induce conviction }
Do you presume to deny that I am out of
my senses .'"

'' No — I do not deny it," said Howard,
naturally somewhat alarmed by his vehe-
mence.

'* I knew you would say so!" cried Cain
triumphantly, '* Crazy people are not re-
sponsible for their conduct — are they .'' So,
if I kill myself, who shall say it is a sin .''
I have heard that all suicides are insane.
At any rate there can be no doubt about
me. Ay, everybody will admit that it is not
Henry — pshaw, what was I saying ? — that
it is not the man who once did a very wick-
ed thing, and paid for it afterwards by a
life-long agony — that it is not I, a rational
being, who pour laudanum down my throat
or leap into the swollen Hardwater — no it
is not I, but a maniac frenzy that restores
this body to the dust from which it came,
and sends this soul into the presence of
Him who gave it ! The Coroner will come
and institute a careful investigation. He
and his jury will pronounce a righteous and
merciful judgment, declaring that insanity
is the only culprit, and will absolve me,
the poor sufferer."

" You may deceive your fallible fellow-
creatures," answered Howard, " bixt re-
member, wretched man, that there is one
whom you cannot deceive. The decision
of a jury of inquest will have no weight
with the Searcher of Hearts."

Cain seemed moved by the observation.
" Your lips," he said, " only repeat what
something within me is continually whis-
pering. Is it then so — will I be required
to answer for my own life as well as that
of — of him, I mean, who fell with a mor-
tal wound on the edge of yonder Run .•■ I
care not — my guilt cannot be increased,
nor my condition rendered worse. Yes,
let me die, let time be over, let me delay
no longer to begin eternity."

" Oh, think better of it," said Howard,
" pause, hesitate, ponder. Consider that
as the tree falleth, so it shall lie. It is a
fearful thing to destroy the last hope."

" I have no hope — despair has been my
master these thirty years. I cannot recall
the past."

" No," resumed Howard, " but you

1850.]

Everstone.

379

can pray pardon for it Do not deprive
yourself of the opportunity of prayer."

" Prayer ?" echoed Cain ; " why mock
me with the word ?"

Howard, after a little hesitation, answer-
ed earnestly, " I am a weak and unworthy
counsellor, sir ; with shame and sorrow I
acknowledge my incompetency to point out
to you that path which alone leads to true
and lasting consolation ; yet, plain reason
tells me — and it must tell you — that one
crime can never be a warrant for commit-
ting another. No matter how far you may
bo plunged in sin, there is a still deeper
gulf below. And there is a second truth
no less certain. To the guilt is propor-
tioned the suffering. You are undergoing
a degree of pain now."

" Say not so smoothly p'^in .'" inter-
rupted the other, " I endure agony!"

" Well, then," resumed Howard, " I
warn you that this agony, intense as you
feel it to be, is capable of aggravation.
Let not your own reckless conduct draw
upon you that awful increase of woe !"

Cain was silent for a while, compressing
his lips tightly. When he spoke, it was in
a changed and troubled voice.

" Enough. Take up your broken gun,
and leave me."

The young man answered, firmly, " I
will not quit this room till you promise me
to make no further attempt upon your
Hfe."

"How," exclaimed Cain, "am I your
slave, to submit to the terms which you
choose to impose. Begone out of my sight
— begone, I say, lest I do you a mischief!"

Howard, unterrified by his loud voice
and furious gestures, stood, and bent on
him a calm, commandino; gaze.

"Pshaw!" said Cain, retorting his
glance with eyes that flashed scorn ; " am
I a child or madman to be quelled by a
look .? Do you pretend to lord it over me
in my own dwelling, to prescribe what I
must do, and what refrain from doing .''
You shall learn, boy, that I am not one to
submit tamely to such an assumption of
authority. Did your father send you here .?
He should have known better."

" No one sent me — accident, or rather
Providence, was my only conductor ; but
now that I am here, I will not depart till
you give me the assurance I require."

" You will follow up your bold command
with threats, I presume," said Cain.

" No, sir," replied Howard, altering his
manner, " I utter not a command ; I only
entreat and supplicate. It is in your power
to bestow on me an inestimable boon, of
which I can retain the recollection as long
as 1 live. Though unhappy yourself, do
not refuse to confer happiness upon an-
other."

" What is it you ask of me .^"

" To spare your life, sir."

" And how can such a boon, if granted,
benefit you .?"

" Can you not understand," replied
Howard, " what a privilege it is to believe
oneself instrumental in preventing a human
soul from committing an unpardonable sin }
Oh, sir, I implore you to forego forever the
pm-pose which has this morning been frus-
trated. Life is short to the youngest ;
you are old, and how small a thing it is
which I pray of you — merely to live out
the days which God has assigned for your
stay on earth. Without your daring and
impious interposition, death will come very
soon — may you not have occasion here-
after to say too soon !"

" What am I to you V said Cain.

" A man ! There needs no other justi-
fication of my interest in your welfare ; and
you are bound to acknowledge the same
tie of relationship. Be, then, as ready to
confer a blessing on me, as I am to confer
a blessing on you. I argue not that you
should refrain from suicide on your own
account, but I beseech it as a favor to my-
self. Shall I go on my knees to beg the
bestowment of this easy gift .''"

" But have you forgotten, Howard As-
tivUle, that I have injured you } If this
shattered fowling-piece, the memento of
your departed friend, be nothing, think of
the old yet greater wrong which I have
not the fortitude to describe plainly."

" I remember all," cried Howard, ea-
gerly, " and I demand that you repair
those former wrongs by making the promise
which I seek. If I forgive all that you
have done, will you persist in denying me
one small favor .'"

Cain, overcome by the youth's impor-
tunity, finally gave the promise which was
required. Howard, about to depart, picked
up such portions of his gun as were worth

VOL v. NO. IV. NEW SERIES.

380

Everstone.

[April,

preserving. When he was through, Cain,
who had looked on gravely, said :

"Whilst you have been conferring a
service upon me this morning, I trust a
lesson has been impressed on your own
heart. Let that broken gun remind you
that there are elements within your bosom,
which, if let loose, will scatter havoc
around, and bring ruin on yourself. Youth
is ever a period of danger, and your case is
attended with an additional and peculiar
peril. You inherit a stormy temperament
which it will require your utmost might to
control. The admonition now given, you
will not hastily reject, for it comes from
one who has felt passion, and suffered from
it. Watch unceasingly; the dread trial
will meet you at a time when you expect it
not. Think that a single instant may suf-
fice to entail unending sorrow."

" Forewarned is forearmed," answered
Howard, affecting cheerfulness.

Cain shook his head, and rejoined, " I
trust it may prove so, but I cannot read
the lines of your countenance without a
feeling of apprehension. Farewell, and
may you be assisted by a power mightier
than your own."

Howard had hardly climbed the fence,
before Cain followed and overtook him.

" Stop, I wish to give you a charge.
Tell no one what has occurred this morn-
ing ; be silent even to your fiither. Another
thing : come not here again — I am best
alone. Now go ; but once more let me
urge you to watch the demon, Tem-
per."

After uttering these words, the recluse
turned his back abruptly, and retired
within his hut. Howard walked home,
and on the way had much to occupy his
thoughts. He entered the house as the
family were sitting at the dinner table,
and took his seat among them without
remark. During the meal, the father more
than once glanced uneasily towards the son,
but asked no question respecting his morn-
ing's employment. Astiville was some-
thing of an epicure, yet none of the viands
which his wife offered him that day could
tempt his appetite. When the cloth was
removed, he pushed away the wine-glass
placed before him by the servant, and rose

from the table. Howard soon after fol-
lowed.

Astiville took up a newspaper, but in
vain endeavored to fix his mind on its col-
unans. Lifting his eyes, at length, he per-
ceived that he had no companion in the
drawing-room except his son.

" You went gunning this morning, I
believe, Howard .^"

" Yes, sir."

" Did you find anything in your walk
worthy of note.'"'

"• No, sir ; nothing to speak of," replied
Howard, embarrassed by the recollection
of Cain's injunction of secrecy.

Astiville inquired no further. He dared
not speak, lest some of his troubled thoughts
which agitated his mind should betray
themselves.

After a few minutes of profound silence,
Howard rose and remarked that he would
ride over to Everstone.

"To Everstone!" echoed Astiville,
suddenly and sharply; "which way will
you go .''"

" Along the wagon road, of course, sir,
by the stone bridge."

" I asked," returned the father, trying
to recover himself, " because I have a little
business with Nathan Brewer, and did not
know but you might perform it for me, if
you took the upper route."

" Brewer's house is not at all in my way
to Everstone," said Howard in some sur-
prise ; " but what is the business, sir } I
can postpone my visit to the Everlyn's to
another day."

"No matter," said Astiville. "On
second thought, I would rather see Brewer
myself. He is probably getting out timber
in the woods near my line, which made me
think you might possibly pass not a great
way from him. But you would not be apt
to find the man, so you may as well keep
the road you first intended."

Mr. Astiville went to look for Brewer,
by taking the most direct course to Cain's
cabin. That riches are oftentimes a curse,
is a trite saying, and not for twenty times
John Astiville 's great possessions would any
wise man have been wilHng to undergo
what was undergone by him in the brief
interval between his morning's and his
afternoon's ride.

1850.]

Everstone.

381

CHAPTER IX.

Howard, wlio had a far lighter heart to
carry, was ipiekly at Everstone. After a
pleasant talk, terminated by the entrance
of tea and other evening refreshments, he
heard the blast of horns, almost drowned
in the loud shouts of negro voices. Sidney
sprang up and looked through the window.

" You must know," said Everlyn to
Howard, " that this young lady takes a
remarkable interest in farming matters —
witness the animation with which she hails
the corn-shucking."

" You will not be surprised at me,
Mr. Astiville, when you learn that it is
ten years since I last saw a shucking. How
briskly the colored folks are flocking to-
gether from all sides, and how merrily they
sing !"

Howard also went to the window. The
Bun had just gone down amidst the haze of
the Indian summer, while the moon, rising
over the eastern tree-tops, compensated
well for his departure. The air, dry and
balmy, was of that happy temperature
■which does not chill the blood though it
tempts the limbs to exercise. Sidney
donned her bonnet, and, accompanied by
the visitor, went to gratify curiosity by a
nearer view of the shuckers. The corn
was collected at the stack yard, distant in
a du'ect line something less than half a
mile. There was a path which wound
around the hill and led to the spot after a
graceful circuit. This path the young
couple followed.

" I do believe," said Howard, as the
swelling chorus of the corn-song was re-
verberated from hill to hill, " that the ne-
gro is the happiest being on earth."

" That they enjoy life, is certain," re-
plied Sidney, "but to constitute perfect
happiness, should not the intellectual part
of our nature be expanded and gratified.^"

" Ah, what can gratify the yearnings of
the soul when once awakened ? Better the
torpor of ignorance than a restlessness that
allows no repose. The negro lives on from
day to day with no thought nor care for
the morrow ; all the wants he is capable
of feeling are satisfied ; he is free from
pain, he is free from desire, and conse-
quently is happy. He seems to occupy the

fortunate mean in the material creation.
The stone and the clod do not suiFer ; but,
inert, senseless, lifeless, they exist without
enjoying existence. The lamb that gam-
bols over the field, now plucking a tender
spire of grass, then skipping to receive a
caress from the bleating ewe, I verily be-
lieve is favored with an actual, positive,
pleasure. But this creature's happiness is
not unalloyed. No dog can pass by, that
the sight does not cause its whole tender
frame to quiver with apprehension. Does
a sportsman fire his gun near the flock ?
The weapon is not pointed at the lamb,
yet the poor creature runs hither and
thither, and, in short, undergoes a thousand
deaths before it meets the butcher's knife.
The negro, however, more highly favored
by Providence, frolics as gaily as the lamb,
and, unlike the lamb, has nothing to dread.
He labors, indeed, but not with his mind ;
and bodily exercise is the most grateful of
animal pleasures."

" You commence at the bottom of crea-
tion," answered Sidney, " and as you as-
cend discern at each stage, an increase of
happiness ; if you went higher, would you
not find the same law still to prevail }
Surely, you yourself would not change
situations with the merriest fellow that ex-
hibits his white teeth in the moonlight
above us."

"No," returned Howard ; "nor would
Croesus have exchanged places with the
peasant whom the oracle declared the hap-
piest man in Lydia. Education has made
me aware of faculties of which the blackey
is unconscious. His ignorance is literally
his bliss, for an increase of knowledge
always causes an increase of desire. For
instance, how can I read about men who
have distinguished themselves in science,
in literature, or in affiiirs of state, without
longing to equal and surpass them } In
the dreamy enthusiasm of boyhood, I
doubted not to become some day a Newton
or a Cicero, just as in an earlier period I
hoped to attain to the physical prowess of
a Coeur de Leon. Since then, as I become
daily more and more capable of apprecia-
ting the characters of the men whose
names are emblazoned in history, I am

882

Everstone.

[April,

compelled to despair more and more of
ever rivalling their excellence. I am sub-
jected to the torment of Tantalus, and
there is no escape from it ; the eyes of the
mind once opened can never be closed. It
is very easy to learn, but what more im-
possible than to forget .'' I am thrust in-
voluntarily into a contest which I cannot
now avoid. Winner in it I can scarcely
hope to be, yet defeat is shame."

" To judge from your words," said
Sidney, smiling, " one would be ready to
suppose you the most miserable of beings."

" Do not draw that inference," replied
the young man, " 1 have no right to any
privilege of woe. I am now in a state of
suspense which I dare say will not last :
probably I shall soon find my level: —
whether my part be to float on the flat sur-
face of mediocrity, or, as I stiU would fain
hope, to attain the rank of the flying-fish
that sometimes soars in air, though at other
times it is forced to hide amidst the peb-
bles of the bottom. Yet I wish there was
some seer to declare the result beforehand,
so that I might learn the station appointed
for me, by some process less mortifying
than the failure to maintain a higher one."

Sidney remarked that it had been stated
that a man may make himself what he
pleases.

" If those that tell us that," said How-
ard, "be themselves men of little note,
their declaration is entitled to small res-
pect ; and as for the really great, they can
speak for themselves but not for others."

"Yet strenuous efl"ort," rejoined Sid-
ney, " though it should fail to reach the
highest aim, is better than a listless w^aitiug
on Time."

" I admit it. This cowardly sloth in
which I am now sunk, I am myself ashamed
of. It is a reproach to the Creator to shun
the laborious probation which is the com-
mon allotment of all mankind. Yes, it is
indeed time that I was up and doing."

" Excuse me," said Sidney. " I am
very far from intending any application of
my remark to yourself. Certainly you are
hardly so advanced in years as to be ob-
noxious to any serious blame for not having
yet performed as much as it usually re-
quires a life-time to accomplish."

" You are a lenient censor, Cousin Sid-
ney,"— (It must be noted, by the way, that
Hovv^ard in the course of a diligent study of

his ancestral tree, had discovered that Sid-
ney's grandmother was the half-sister of his
own great uncle ; whence his claim to use
the afi^ectionate style of relationship. ) " Do
not palliate my fault. If I am young
enough to deserve pardon for not having
yet accomplished some memorable action,
I ought at least to be earnestly busy in
fitting myself to act. But here is the sad
difiiculty. I am no Admirable Crichton to
embrace the whole circle of the sciences,
nor do I feel the impulse of an instinct
directing me to any career congenial to my
disposition, and not above my strength."

"What think you of the Law.'" in-
quired Sidney.

" I heartily despise it, and besides, the
qualities which are its essential requisites,
are precisely those in which I am most
deficient — cunning, duplicity, and cold-
blooded indiflerence. No — I'd as soon be
a soldier of fortune, and cut throats for the
highest bidder !"

Before the young lady was able to think
of another suggestion, they had turned the
corner of the fodder-house and come in full
view of the dusky assembly. On both
sides of a long pile of unshucked ears of
corn they stood, or rather capered, for
their feet moved quite as nimbly as their
fingers, though less profitably to the master
of the land. Mr. Everlyn's servants formed
of course a small proportion of the party :
there were boys and men at work who had
come, without hope of fee except a partici-
pation in the frolic, and a share of the
substantial supper at the close — distances
varying from two miles to ten. All were
shouting with full play of lung, and at the
highest pitch of voice. Yet was there re-
gularity in the discord. The same words
were for the most part used by every in-
dividual, and at intervals the familiar
chorus burst forth to which each voice con-
tributed its utmost power, and which rose
and swelled on the air, till it startled the
owls in the depths of the foi-est. But who
shall attempt to describe the indescribable
corn-song ? Pindar, in his wildest flights,
never imagined lyrical achievements ap-
proaching the daring extravagance of these
efibrts of the Africo- American Muse. Tro-
chees, Iambi and Anapests appear in a ka-
leidoscopical variety of collocation ; while
Diamters and Alexandrines are thrown in
startling contrast. Sometimes we are

1850.]

Everstone.

883

greeted by the severe majesty of blank-
verse ; anon, the song condescends to put on
the trammels of rhyme. We hear not only
brief and fervid odes, but long epics whose
recitation wears out the night ; and we are
fortunate in being able to state a fact in re-
gard to the origin of these latter prodigious
compositions, which is capable of casting
much light upon a critical question of no little
importance. Close your mouths hencefor-
ward, ye clamorous opposers of Hedelin and
Heyne ! The Iliad, that noblest compound
of i-hapsodies, never could have sprung
from one unaided author, for no single
Homer is found adequate to compose so
much as a corn-song. Verse after verse is
added by the inspiration of innumerable
successive poets. In some future day, a
Pisistratus will doubtless arise to combine
and arrange the precious fragments in one
grand, symmetrical, immortal, whole.

As Sidney and Howard stopped to listen,
the melodious choir were singing lines
something like the following : —

Old Bob Hateful he was a devil,

Sartain and sure, sartain and sure!

"Water! Water !"---hear him bellow,

" Just from the spring so fresh and cold ;"

But none did he git, for all he cried " hello !"

Fire's what's for Am---that rarscal old !

And where the fire is the hottest,

There may he choke— choke— choke!

For old Bob Hateful, he was a devil

Sartain and sure, sartain and sure !

When the last dying note of the chorus
had floated away in the distance, there was
a dead sUence around the corn-pile. In
fact, before the two or three previous lines
were sung, the white visitors had been dis-
covered by a portion of the assemblage, who
immediately dropped their voices.

" Whe — ew !" said an old fellow whose
curly grey locks glistened in the moon-
beam, " Hush boys — hush boys !"

" Who's that .^" asked one of those a little
further off".

Priam — for the first speaker was no other
than Mr. Newlove's lately engaged servant
— answered in a low impressive tone,
" Don't you see } It's Master Howard As-
tiville. Let's strike up something else
quick boys ; — it makes no odds what."

On the instant the negroes at one side of
the corn-heap dashed into that spasmodic
melody which accompanies the words —

" Pickin' up de cotton ; pickin' up de cotton !

Heigho-— Heigho !

Pickea' up de cotton, &c.

The other division of the assembly sang
" with taste" the pathetic strain

" An' thar I spied an old grey goose,
A-smilin' at the gander."

Had it been broad day, Sidney would
have been able to perceive that her com-
panion's face was flushed with anger. Too
much absorbed, however, in observing the
novel and picturesque scene before her, to
divide her attention with aught else, she
looked not at Howard nor addressed to him
any remark for a space of some minutes.
Curiosity being at length amply gratified,
the lady and gentleman left the yard. Sid-
ney then thought to inquire of Howard
whether he could account for the sudden
change of the song at their approach.

'' And do you not know V said Young
Astiville, turning towards her.

" Really," she answered, " I cannot im-
agine the reason. If they intended to com-
pliment us, I think they displayed little
judgment, for the first song certainly ap-
peared to have much more character than
any that succeeded it."

" Haven't you heard of the grave at the
fourth corner .^"

" Yes, something, I remember that Mr.
Somers" — here she hesitated.

" You refer to that evening when he ut-
tered such audacious insolence in your par-
lor. Let me know precisely what it was
he said, for neither father nor mother will
tell me."

Sidney noticed his kindling ire and was
unwilling to supply it with fuel. " It is not
well," she answered to recur to an incident
so unpleasant, and which, I have no doubt,
has since been regretted by all parties who
were engaged in it."

" If I had been present that evening,"
said Howard, " Richard Somers should not
have escaped so easily. Let him never
repeat the infamous slanders he spoke then,
or dearly shall he rue the hour. But you
shall learn the foundation upon which his
frantic malice built I know not what
impudent accusation. Robert Astiville, as
you have probably heard, was the first of
our family that settled in this State. He
took up a body of land adjoining one
which had been patented some score of
years previous by Roland Compton. It
chanced, as he was engaged with a chain
and compass in running out his lines, that

384

Everstone.

[April,

lie found himself oppressed with thirst near
the foui-th corner-stone of Compton, which
was to constitute his own corner also. Sit-
ting down to rest himself there, he dispatch-
ed a black man named Giles, his own slave,
with a vessel to bring water from some
spring, for, it being mid-summer, the Hard-
water Run at whose edge he had arrived,
was too warm and nauseous to be drank
of. The negro, after an interval of time
which doubtless appeared very long to the
parched and weary company at the Cor-
ner, returned. He brought the bucket —
so tradition says — upon his Iiead. In lift-
ing it down, the unfortunate man, whether
accidentally or through design, slipped his
hold, the bucket fell, and the water was
spilled upon the ground. My ancestor, un-
der the influence of the sudden irritation,
raised the hon measuring ""chain which lay
coiled at his feet, and struck the slave vio-
lently on the head. The blow was mortal."
An exclamation escaped Sidney's lips.
" My ancestor," continued Howard,
" was a man of strong passions — in this re-
spect, I fear, too much like his descendants
— he was excited by a disappointment
greater than any one can conceive who has
not endured the agony of thirst ; and more
than all in striking Giles he meant nothing
further than a moderate chastisement for
his carelessness or perhaps wilful and sulky
disobedience. Then let us not judge Robert
Astiville too harshly. Deeply must he
have repented the Jiomicide into which an
ungovernable temper had betrayed him."

" And was Giles buried by the corner-
stone .?"

" Yes, so it is said ; and the negroes
(who are strongly affected by such circum-
stances) have invested the spot with many
superstitious and ghostly fancies. To this
cause is in a great measure to be attributed
the difficulty of at this day discovering the
exact locality."

" Then," observed Sidney, musing,
"you think that the corner which we thought
was found near the sulphur spring, must be
given up."

" I fear it must, indeed," replied How-
ard, " yet it ought to be remembered
that this story of the grave is a mere tra-
dition and has no positive evidence to support
it. At any rate, however, there is nothing
to shake our confidence in the Lower

Branch, being the division line between the
patents."

"Yet you have not told me why the
blacks interrupted their singing upon our
arrival just now."

" What .?" said Howard. " Did you not
hear them speak of a certain Bob Hate-
ful—"

" And was that your — "

" My great grandfather's father you
mean ? Yes, such is the epithet with
which the negro vocabulary has honored
him. The poet who, about a century ago,
composed that elegant elegiac, made the
line run, ' Old Bob Astiville,' but the li-
ving Astiville's having, very naturally, no
desire that their name should be handed
down to posterity in such a fashion, remon-
strated, and so energetically, that the sable
songsters expunged it and substituted
another. They have also sense enough to
know that the song, albeit thus modified,
cannot be particularly agreeable to any
member of the Astiville family. Hence
their disorder this evening upon discover-
ing whom they had for a listener."

" I do not wonder," said Sidney, " that
your family should prefer having so pain-
ful an incident in their history forgotten."

" And forgotten it would have been long
ago," rejoined Howard, " but for the per-
verse memory of the negroes. Nor are
they content with the tragedy as it really
occurred. Each generation seems to con-
sider it a duty to embellish the tradition
with added circumstances of horror. Ac-
cording to the belief now current, Robert
Astiville was not merely a man of impetuous
temper, but a perfect demon — a rival in
hard-hearted cruelty to Apollyon himself."

" Did Giles leave any descendants ?"
inquired Sidney.

" Yes. There is one old woman in par-
ticular who I know is descended from him.
Her name is Naomi. Though now free,
she once belonged to my father, and it was
from her mouth that I first heard the tale of
her ancestor's death. I was not more than
ten or twelve years old, and as you may
suppose, the account delivered by her with
bitter emphasis, made a profound impres-
sion upon my mind. I remember that the
old woman, to account for the sudden fit of
passion of which Giles was the victim, as-
sured me that there was an evil spirit who
haunted our race, occasionally taking full

1850.]

Everstone.

S85

possession of some member of it, and lead-
ing him into all sorts of atrocious acts.
And she referred me for confirmation of
the doctrine to those passages in the New
Testament which speak of persons who
were possessed with devils. With an up-
raised finger and gleaming eye, she added,
that it was very probable that this fiendish
attendant of the Astiville family would some
day enter into J7ie. Of course, a child of
the tender age of which I was, could not
hear these frightfid tales without shudder-
ing. My parents perceiving the terror
which oppressed me, and after some inves-
tigation discovering the cause, were very
angry. The consequence was, that the
old hag was whipped, and I fear that she
regards me, though only an involuntary
agent in her punishment, with as rancor-
ous a detestation as she does the memory
of old ' Bob Hateful himself.' "

Sidney and Howard strolled along in
silence for a little distance. At length the
latter remarked :

" There's an old negro, named Priam —
and, by the way, I saw him at the shuck-
ing yonder — who is Naomi's husband.
He is at present hired to Sylvester New-
love, and he it was, probably, or his wife,
who gave Somers the information about
the Grave, which was used to such effect
in Court. I will not pretend to reproach
Somers for anything he said before the
jury ; — there he only acted according to
his trade. But what 1 do blame him for
is, that he should afterwards have so
shamefully garbled and distorted his negro
tradition, for the purpose of lowering my
father in Mr. Everlyn's opinion, and in
yours. That was a trick of mean, despica-
ble malice, to which I would not have
thought that even Richard Somers would
descend."

Sidney was struck by thi^ observation.
In a quick voice she said : " Can it be that
Mr. Somers understood the matter as you
have explained it .?"

" Surely ! How can it be else .? The
account which I have given you is the ne-
gro account, and it is the one which Somers
must have received. Or, if any other tale
was told him, it certainly could not have
been more unfavorable to our family.
This is the darkest one that has ever been
propagated. But, giving him the credit
of ignorance, what can you imagine more

unjustifiable than to parade a hasty suspi-
cion as truth, and to endeavor to affix it
as an indelible stigma upon the name of a
gentleman } His being a lawyer makes his
conduct appear all the worse. Accustom-
ed throughout his whole life to sift and
weigh evidence, it is impossible that he
could have faUed to observe how entirely
groundless was the charge which he took
upon himself to utter."

"It was, indeed, very wrong," mur
mured Sidney.

" And now," rejoined Howard, ^vehe-
mently, " Tell me what has been the effect
of the calumny. You know exactly what
Somers said that evening — I do not. If
you are unwilling to iufonu me what the
imputations were which he cast forth so
recklessly let me hear, at least, whether
they produced the result intended. A
parent's honor is as dear to me as my own.
If you see cause to believe my father a
villain, you are welcome to esteem Howard
Astiville ten times more a vUlain !"

" Trust me," replied the young lady,
" I never had reason to entertain the
slightest doubt of your father's integrity.
Let the assertions which Mr. Somers ut-
tered, in a moment of irritation, sink into
oblivion. They are already as if never
spoken — except so far as the recollection
of them affects Mr. Somers' own reputa-
tion.

Sidney stopped, confused and blushing ;
for these last words had escaped her unin-
tentionally. They expressed rather a
painful conviction, than an opinion which
she desired other persons to adopt.

Howard took up the word immediately.
" Somers ought, in truth, to be ashamed
of his conduct — but, I presume, his only
care is to make himself agreeable to Miss
Newlove .^"

Sidney felt her embarrassment increase,
but it wasnecessary to give some reply. So,
after the pause of a few seconds, she said :
" I hope, however, that Miss Newlove
cannot possess so exacting a disposition as
to require, from her advocate, the forfeit-
ure of his honor."

" I should have been inclined to beUeve
so too," returned Howard. '' I had a
good look at the young lady a few days
since, and, really, if she were not a New
Yorker's daughter, one might conjecture
her to be quite an amiable sort of person.

886

Everstone.

[April,

Of course no less partial spectator than
Richard Somers, would reckon her very
beautiful ; — still there's something enga-
ging about her. Spenser has a couplet,
which, I think, describes pretty well the
impression likely to be made on one who
saw her for the first time. The poet, in
mentioning some plain, unpretending dam-
sel, says :

' Yet was she fair, and in her countenance
Dweh simple truth, in seemly fashion.' "

" Very pretty lines, indeed," said Sid-
ney, " and I am sure that any one who de-
serves to have them applied to her, need
not complain that Dame Nature has been
niggardly in the bestowment of charms."

" Miss Emma Newlove is well enough,"
answered the gentleman, " though a little
too meek, and quiet, and die-away for my
notion."

" Why, I thought you had never con-
versed with her, Mr. Astiville .'"

" So I have not — I only infer the char-
acter from the face. My opinion may be
wrong. Perhaps, with all that mild sin-
cere look, she is, in reality, a termagant
and a scold. If this be the case, I trust
that Somers is the man who is destined to
become her husband — no fate can be too
bad for him."

" But suppose she is of a temper alto-
gether different .?"

" Why, then,'' added Howard, " may
she have the good sense to choose a hus-
band somewhere else than in Redland.
She ought to know that there are ladies
here, too fair to be rivalled by Yankee
beauty, and sufficiently numerous to en-
gross the entire devotion of all the sons of
the South. Stay ! — let me think better
of it. Yes, we'll be generous, the little
puritan maidens shall have leave to gather
the crumbs. Let them take the lawyer,
and welcome ! It will be a happy riddance
to you. Cousin Sidney, will it not } But
why waste time in making provision for
Miss Newlove .'' She is sufficiently old to
help he:'self. Though philanthropy is a
good thing, I don't see that we ought to
be particularly solicitous respecting this
young lady. For my own part, my
thoughts are not disposed to wander so far.
You tell me that Somers' falsehoods have
made no impression on your mind."

" What falsehoods .'"' asked Sidney,
suddenly.

" I might answer," said Howard, after
the fashion of echo — 'What falsehoods?'
Why, any and all ; — for it is to be pre-
sumed that every word that drops from his
lips involves a deceit. Yet I care little
what estimation is placed upon his asser-
tions, except when they touch my father's
good name."

" Assertions which do that," said Sid-
ney, " must meet disbelief and rebuke, let
them proceed from whom they may. Your
father's high integrity is not to be doubted,
even upon testimony so respectable as that
of Mr. Somers.

" I am grateful," uttered Howard, bend-
ing his head. " We stand cleared from
one imputation ; but how is it with regard
to old Naomi's ban } Do you believe that
there is indeed a curse overhanging every
one who is so unfortunate as to be de-
scended from Robert, the master of
Giles .?"

" If I did entertain such a belief," said
Sidney, ' ' it would only be a ground for sym-
pathy and fellow -being. You know Ever-
stone lies under a doom. But let us keep
a bold heart, and destiny may do its
worst."

" I have need, in truth. Cousin Sidney,
to summon all my powers. Think what a
fiend it is that haunts me — not a tempter
who seeks to beguile me to my ruin, but
an irresistible despot, who will never conde-
scend to address his victim in any language
but that of stern command. Imagine him
tossing me about at his own will and plea-
sure. See me writhing as hopelessly as
Laocoon, enveloped in the folds of the ser-
pent. Am I not to be pitied.? Perhaps,
however, there is a way to exorcise and
banish the fiend. If you. Cousin Sidney,
were gifted with the power to relieve me from
this horrible fate, would you not exert it.?"

" Certainly. It would be inhuman to re-
refuse ; but, unfortunately, I am no Merlin."

" Oh," resumed Howard, " I ask not
the forbidden aid of sorcery. The fiend is
too mighty to be thus conquered. He can
be driven out only by a power, of a nature
directly opposite to his own. He is dark,
loathsome, devilish. I must, then, look to
one who is pure, benign, and lovely. And
if the being who possesses these qualities,
in their extent, will not assist me, I must
abandon all hope. What say you now,
Cousin Sidney .?"

1850.]

Everstone.

387

" I have to reply that I still think your
safety depends upon yourself alone. But,
since you make such an angel of me, I
must, in return for the compliment, render
all the service I can. Evil spirits were ex-
pelled, in ancient times, by the influence of
music. We are nearly at the house, I
perceive, and the piano is in tolerable tune.
I will play to you, until the unwelcome

demon, if he have any ears to stun, shall
be ready to cry ' mercy.' "

" Thanks, my gentle David," said How-
ard, leading his companion towards the
steps.

" And do you^ great King Saul, be on
your good behavior. Cast no javelins at
my head — I beseech you."

To he Contiiiued,

S88

Browning^ Poems.

[April,

BROWNING'S POEMS.

If Mr. Browning be tlie poet of a transi-
tion state, this may explain one of bis worst
faults, namely, bis occasional obscurity or
unintelligibility. If be stands in tbe twi-
ligbt of a coming day, it is not strange tbat
familiar shapes emerge indistinctly, bere
and tbere, and assume unrecognizable
forms, wbile tbe new revelations, wbicb
sball brighten with glory in tbe rising sun,
still glimmer mystically from tbe shadows
that enshroud them. But whatever be the
explanation — and the true one is, perhaps,
tbe indolence or the perversity of the author,
— the fact is obvious, and must ever stand
in tbe way of bis popularity. Tbere is a
cunning mediocrity, which wins admira-
tion by aiFecting obscurity, and which by
enwrapping its paltry truism in a glimmer-
ing fog, plays upon its readers tbe brilliant
imposture of making them transfer tbe ex-
cellencies, which they imagine, to words
which they do not comprehend. Tbere
are in Browning whole pages, which, could
we believe him infected with Charlatanism,
"we should attribute to this cause. But,
in point of fact, we believe that be oftener
obscures true merit than creates a halo
around a sham ; and, that tbe defect re-
sults rather from want of labor than from
want of ability. He docs not dwell upon bis
conceptions, until they assume that clear
and determinate shape, which compels a
definite expression. In justice to him, how-
ever, it must be said tbat bis later produc-
tions are great improvements upon bis
earlier in this respect.

But if one cause of bis obscurity is bis
imperfect expression, another cause is the
abstruse and recondite nature of many of
bis thoughts. He is guilty of that kind of
thinking popularly styled transcendental.
Now, with many, this of itself is as bad as
tbe unpardonable blasphemy, and will suf-
fice to shut him out from all mercy, human
or divinej while with others, like charity,

it will cover the whole multitude of bis
sins. Without siding with either class, we
believe tbat much of tbe poetry and of tbe
prose, which is called transcendental, is re-
plete with refined appreciations of both
spiritual and sensuous beauty, for wbicb
we look in vain elsewhere ; tbat it has wi-
dened our sympathies with nature by shed-
ding upon the forms of sense the hues of
tbe spirit ; that it has analyzed more per-
fectly those mysterious visitmgs of feeling and
thought, which cast such elusive flickerings
of light and shadow upon the soul, and has
woven into tissue, beautiful as morning mists
and aerial as gossamer, tbe fine affinities
which connect us with tbe world of spirits.
These things are within the legitimate pro-
vence of poetry — but hardly fitted for tbe
drama, because the drama supposes tbe
mind too much absorbed in action to in-
dulge in anything so fine-spun and vision-
ary— but when you come to pure Kantian
metaphysics, to speculations upon tbe es-
sence and tbe properties of mind and spirit
and the absolute nature of things, and other
kindred themes, to attempt to extract poe-
try from them , is like tbe alchemist's attempt
to make gold out of iron, or tbe Yankee's
to squeeze milk out of a turnip. The fact
is, almost all tbe great truths which lend a
coloring to the affections, passions, and
practical life of men, and which are con-
sequently poetical — are simple and intel-
ligible. Belief in divine Providence, and
the immortality of the soul, tbe solemn
raptures of devotion, tbe retributive ter-
rors of conscience, the ennobling fascina-
tions of love, tbe strength and purity of
domestic aficction, the aspiring and the
grovelling propensities of man, and the
beautiful effects of natural scenery, are
themes to wbicb tbe simplest heart gives
cordial response and are inexhaustibly rich
in poetry. It is the poet's chief mission to
create media, through wbicb these shall be

1850.]

Browning^s Poems.

889

naturally and vividly expressed. And here
he can find full exercise for originality and
invention ; for whereas truth in itself is
one, it yet can shine through a thousand
forms and spoak in a thousand tones. The
poet must select that form, which shall em-
body without obscuring it, and these tones
which shall mingle the least of earthly dis-
cord with the music of its voice. He must
leave to philosophers the annunciation of
new laws and principles, whilst they re-
quire argument to support them ; or if he
would sometimes with Wordsworth and
Colei-idge, travel far into the twilight re-
gions of consciousness, let him adopt the
didactic and lyric, and not the dramatic
form of composition.

The first and most ambitious, but to us
the least satisfactory, of these plays, is Pa-
racelsus. It is no drama, unless five se-
parate talks upon the same subject, detail-
ing the plans and experiences of a man
in the pursuit of one object, without a par-
ticle of action, can constitute a drama. The
first scene, headed, " Paracelsus aspires,"
shows him with his two friends, Festus
and Michal, on the eve of departing on
his wandering inquest of knowledge. They
talk over his plans and hopes, scattering
thickly, here and there, hints of his past
career and of the strange promptings which
induced him to dare to know^ to know as
Festus says, " the secret of the world, of
man and man's true purpose, path and
fate," a knowledge which is to find " its
own reward in itself only, not an alien end
to blend therewith." In his proud self-re-
liance, he scorns the services of humbler
men. He says :

" If T can serve makind
'Tis well — but there our intercourse must eud;
I never will be served by those I serve."

The theme, then, which is proposed is
the aim " to know for knowing's sake," and
the sacrifice of all affections to this end.
Festus thus grandly describes Paracelsus.

''Tis no wish of mine,
You should abjure the lofty claims you make.
Although I can no longer seek, indeed,
To overlook the truth, that there will be
A monstrous spectacle upon the earth.
Beneath the pleasant sun among the trees, —
A being knowing not what love is. Hear me !
You are endowed with faculties, which bear
Annexed to them as 'twere a dispensation
To summon meaner spirits to do their will
And gather round them at their need j inspiring

Such with a love themselves can never feel,
Passionless mid their passionate votaries.
I know not if you joy in this or no,
Or even dream that common men can live
On objects you prize lightly ; Init which make
Their heart's treasui-e. The affections seem
Beauteous at most to you, which we must taste
Or die ; and this strange quality accords,
1 know not how, with you ; sits well upon
That luminous brow, though in another it scowls
An eating brand — a shame."

His after-fate, it is true, belies these
wonderful attributes, but the above is, pro-
bably, the conception which the author
wishes us to form of his hero. All the in-
terlocutors of the play except Michal — ■
Heaven bless her loving and truthful heart
— are gifted with an inordinate loquacity.
When they open their mouths, one, two,
three, or four pages of words tumble out,
sometimes, very little to the enlightenment
of the reader, and, always, very little to
the furtherance of dramatic effect. This
is an historical characteristic of Paracelsus,
he having given one of his names (Bom-
bastus) to a species of eloquence, common
before the Fourth of July and just before
election, and which it was hardly necessary
for Mr. Browning to have taken any par-
ticular pains to immortalize. Thus, many
words are spent in discussing his plan of
acquiring knowledge, which seems to have
been merely to roam abroad, at random,
gathering by observation the truth scatter-
ed up and down the world. Festus makes
some very sensible objections, but is finally
convinced, by the enthusiastic, mystical,
and eloquently obscure replies of Paracel-
sus, that, with a person of his genius, they
can have no application. He sees his way,
" as the bird her trackless way," and, in
the end, convinces Festus and Michal that he
shall succeed ia his enterprize, and departs.
We next meet him after the lapse of nine
years in Constantinople. BaiSed in his
object and sick at heart, he has consulted
a conjuror to obtain some clue to the
truth, which he cannot wring from nature.
While'soliloquizing over disappointed hopes
ges a poor crazy poet, called Aprtle, ap-
pears upon the scene. Aprile has been as
far misled by his intense love, as Paracel-
sus by his desire to know. Paracelsus, how-
ever, discovers in the poor dying bard the
qualities which are wanted for his own per-
fection. Says he :

" Die not Aprile ; we must never part:
Are we not halves of one dissevered world

390

Browning's Poems.

[April,

Whom this strange chance unite? once mo;e ?

Part? never.
Till thou, the lover, know ; and I, the knower,
Love — until both are saved."

But Aprile expires, leaving Paracelsus
convinced, that knowledge is precious only
in its union with love.

The third scene presents him at Basil,
lecturing to admiring pupils, at the zenith
of his fame and popularity. Yet th3 les-
son which he has learned from Aprile, to
use his wisdom for man's benefit, has not
rooted out his old contempt of his fellows.
He despises, while he teaches them, and
sees little harm in playing off the tricks of
a charlatan upon men, who cannot appre-
ciate true wisdom. He seems to have
learned the lesson of love, theoretically,
rather than practically. Festus is all ad-
miration of his success , but Paracelsus
predicts his own downfall, and still feels,
within, the unsubdued desire to attain to
perfect knowledge.

In the fourth part Paracelsus again '' as-
pires ;" that is, the people of Basil, having
come to the conclusion that he is an uncon-
scionable quack, he is about to start again
upon his old vagabond life, in search of
knowledge. This fourth part is a wonder-
fid talk — the old race of volubility between
Festus and Paracelsus, with a new spirit
superadded. We had set it down as an
astonishing specimen of some new style of
poetry, and given up understanding its
real or dramatic significance, until we
found, by consulting the notes, that, at this
time, Paracelsus " scarcely ever ascended
the lecture desk, unless half-drunk, and
only dictated to his secretaries when in a
state of intoxication." This surely ex-
plains an accumulation of incongruities,
under which language reels, and reason
staggers, although it may raise a question
among critics as to the gesthetical propriety
of such writing.

In the fifth part Paracelsus once more
" attains ;" that is, he dies in the faith that
he has missed the aim of life, by not
mingling love with his thirst for knowl-
edge. This much, at least, we gather from
his wild and incoherent rhapsody, strewn
here and there, with beautiful thoughts
and images, like stars that twinkle trem-
ulously in a nebulous sea of ether. The
poet states its moral in these word sof Par-
acelsas :

" Let men
Regard me ai»d the poet dead long ago,
Who once loved rashly ; and shape forth a third
And better tempered spirit, warned by both."

In his note the author says : " the liber-
ties I have taken with my subject are very
trifling ; and the reader may slip the fore-
going scenes between the leaves of any me-
moir of Paracelsus he pleases, by way of
commentary." Now, we plead guilty to
but slight familiarity with the biographies
of the Father of Chemistry, yet we do not
hesitate to say, if they are sufficiently
enigmatical to need the elucidation of such
a commentary, we shall be in no more haste
to cultivate a more intimate acquaintance.
Meanwhile, notwithstanding its defects, the
poem is full of boldness and originality,
far beyond the reach of mediocre minds,
which gave ample promise of ripened ex-
cellence. There are passages of which
any poet might be proud ; particidarly
those passages of description, which evince
the observing eye, and personifying imagi-
nation of the true poet. And though it is,
in a measm-e, true, as has been said, that
Browning seldom expends his strength
U230n isolated passages, but shows his pow-
er in a subordination of the parts to the
whole, we shall yet attempt to compensate
for our somewhat disparaging criticism, by
a few quotations.

As an instance of imaginative force in a
single word, we remember few which sur-
pass the following :

" Michal, some months hence,
Will say, ' this autumn was a pleasant time,
For some few sunny days, and overlook
Its bleak wind hankering after pining leaves."

Here is a description of an autumnal
morning :

Festus. Hush !

Paracelsus- 'Tis the melancholy wind astir
Within the trees ; the embers too are gray,
Morn must be near.
Fcst. Best ope the casement : see !

The night, late strewn with clouds and flying

stars.
Is blank and motionless ; how peaceful sleep
The tree-tops all together. Like an asp
The wind slips whispering from bough to
bough.
Par. Aye ; you would doze on a wind-shaken
tree
By the hour, nor count time lost.
Fcst. So you shall gaze.

Those happy times will come again, —
Par. Gone! Gone !

Those pleasant times. Does not the moaning
wind

1850.]

Broiunins! s Poems.

391

Seem to bewail that we have gained such

gains,
And bartered sleep for them.
Fcst. It is our trast

That there is yet another world to meud
AH error and mischance."

Here the descriptions are exquisite, and
the transitions all beautifully suggested by
natural associations. Yet it is curious to
note how, even here, everything tends di-
rectly back to that eternal coil of doubt and
faith, pride, contempt, and love, and the
problems ot "providence, foreknowledge,
will, and fate," which he keeps unwinding
from his bosom, without end. Here is a
further decription of morning :

" See morn at length. The heavy darkness

seems
Diluted ; grey and clear without the stars,
The shrubs bestir and rouse themselves, as if
Some snake, that weighed them down ail night,

let go
His hold ; and from the east, fuller and fuller,
Day, like a mighty river, is flowing in,
But clouded, wintry, desolate, and cold.
Yet see how that broad, prickly, star-shaped

plant,
Half down in the crevice, spreads its woolly

leaves.
All thick and glistening with diamond dew.''

The following lines, though they remind
us of Wordsworth's account of the origin
of the Grecian gods, yet have a beauty all
their own :

" Man, once descried, imprints forever
His presence on all lifeless things ; the winds
Are hencdforth voices in a wail or shout,
A querulous mutter, or a quick gay laugh,
Never a senseless gust now mau is born ;
The herded pines commune, and have deep

thoughts,
A secret they assemble to discuss
When the sun drops behind their trunks, which

glow
Like grates of Hell : the peerless cup afloat
Of the lake-lily is an urn, some nymph
Swims bearing high above her liead ; no bird
Whistles unseen, but through the gaps above,
That let light in upon the gloomy woods,
A shape peeps from the breezy forest-top,
Arch, with small puckered mouth, and mocking

eye;
The morn has enterprise, — deep quiet droops
With evening ; triumph takes the sunset hour ;
Voluptuous transport ripeus with the corn.
Beneath a warm moon, like a happy face."

Thus we might proceed, would our limits
permit, quoting passage after passage, shew-
ing a bold, vigorous, and original mind,
which only a too decided introversiveness,
which time seems fast remedying, prevents

from producing a work of the very first
order.

The nest play, " Pippa Passes," is sim-
ple in its design, and genial in its senti-
ment. The author's capacity is fully equal
to his conception, and, consequently, the
characters are distinctly outlined, and the
thoughts no longer float at large in nuhi-
hus. The poem seems intended to illus-
trate the influence of a good word, when
spoken in critical moments. The heroine
of the piece, Pippa, a poor girl from the
silk-mills, who has her New Year's holi-
day, passes the " Happiest Tour," as she
supposes, in Asolo, and, fancying her-
self for the moment the persons themselves,
sings her song in their hearing, and, with
girhsh light-heartedness, trips away. She
first passes Ottima, the young wife of an
old man. She, with her paramour Sebold,
has, the night before, murdered her hus-
band, and, this New Year's morn, arises
from the gratification of their guUty pas-
sions, to a life which their wicked deed has
stripped of all its real charm. They are
conversing in her bed-chamber, habitua-
ting theu" minds to the terrible remem-
brance, and devising the means of extract-
ing pleasure from their mutual wretched-
ness. Peppa passes, singing her song,
which concludes :

'' God's in his Heaven,
All's right with the world.''

The words awaken some old responsive
feeling in the heart of Sebold, and he, at
once, sees in his beautiful paramour a being
hideous and despicable :

Sebold.

Leave me !

Go, get your clothesoD — dress those shoulders!

Otti. _ Sebold?

Seb. Wipe off that paint. I hate you.

Otti. Miserable !

Seb. My God, and she is emptied of it now,
Outright now — how miraculously gone
Of all the grace — had she not strange grace

once 1
Why, the blank cheek hangs listless as it likes
No purpose holds the features up together,
Only the cloven brow and puckered chin
Stay in their places — and the very hair,
That seemed to have a sort of life in it,
Drops a dead web.

Otti. Speak to me — speak not of me.

Seb. That round, great, full-orbed face, where
not an angle

Broke the delicious indolence — all broken !

Olii. To me — not of me ! Ungrateful, perjured
cheat.

S92

Browning's Poems.

[April,

The words italicised are an exquisite
stroke of nature. Ouly a true dramatist
would have so intensely conceived the sit-
uation of Ottima, as to have felt that the
nnmistakeable expression of alienation and
abhorrence was in the use of the third per-
son— as if seas and mountains had arisen
between her and Sebold, or, as if she had
suddenly sunk to a lower scale of being —
rather tJaan in his words of disgust and con-
tempt.

Pippa next passes a young sculptor with
bis bride. His rivals, envious of his
genius and hating him for some slight ec-
centricities, by a pretended correspondence
carried on in the name of his bride, have
deceived him into marrying a girl, whom
his fancy has clothed with all conceivable
loveliness, but who is, in reality, of very
ordinary pretensions, lie has just discov-
ered the deception, and is about to discard
her at the very moment that the magnet-
ic influence of his presence and conversa-
tion have developed the germ of a new life
within her ; when the song of Pippa resolves
him to take noble revenge upon his rivals,
by devoting himself to unfolding a nature,
which needs only the shining-in of affection
and intellect to germinate and bloom with
exquisite beauty. " Look," he says,

" Look at the woman here, with the new soul,
Like my own Psyche's — fresh upon her lips
Alit, the visionary butterHy,
Waiting my word to enter and make bright,
Or flutter off and leave all blank as first.
This body had no soul before, but slept
Or stirred, was beauteous or ungainly, free
From taint or foul with stain, as outward things
Fastened their image on its passiveuess ;
Now it will wake, feel, live, or die again!
' Shall to produce form out of unshaped stuff
Be art — and, further, to evoke a soul
From form — be nothing? The new soul is
mine."

With like success she passes a youth,
meditating the assassination of a tyrant, and
a bishop, who is on the point of compro-
mising a high duty to expediency.

We have no disposition to find fault with
a poem which so far surpasses its preten-
sions, and will only note, en passant^ one
or two blemishes. He makes Pippa say,

" Thou art my single day. God lends to heaven
"What were all earth else with a feel of heaven."

But Mr. Browning is seldom guilty of
such verbal impropriety as this. The coup-

let also illustrates another fault, somewhat
more common, viz. the frequent suppression
of the relative pronoun, which or who — a
fault that, sometimes, contributes very ma-
terially to his obscurity. The song des-
cribing the King, who lived long ago " in
the morning of the world," is an admirable
" modern antique ;" though we have some
doubts, whether it be in character with the
person who sings it. Yet it is much better
in this respect, than some of the metaphy-
sics and school-divinity, mingled in the
songs of this little girl, who is represented
as singing, as the bird carols, from the full-
ness of a joyous nature. In this play, too,
we note another peculiarity, which has not
much decreased with experience, — a fond-
ness for sudden and unexpected transitions
— which render some of the dialogue, at the
first reading, almost as enigmatical as a
Greek chorus, though a more thorough study
of the author's conceptions and a free use
of one's own imagination in the scenical de-
tails of the play, remove this objection.

But our three favorites among these
plays are, " Colombe's Birthday," " A Blot
on the 'Scutcheon," and " Lusia." Of these,
perhaps, Colombe's Birthday will be most
generally popular. It is full of stir, inci-
dent and vivacity ; its characters all speak
in propria fersona^ without showing the
author through them, and the dialogue, par-
ticularly in the last two acts, is managed
with an exquisite grace and tact, which
equal or surpass the most charming scenes
in Massinger. There are no prolix speech-
es, no long metaphysical disquisitions, but
a brisk interchange of thought and senti-
ment, a constant development of the plot,
and a delicacy and precision of character-
ization, which awaken an interest in the
persons for their own sakes. It is the old
theme of love versus money or high social
position, or, adopting a broader generaliza-
tion, of nature versus artificiality, and no
where do we remember to have seen it
more delightfully treated — no where the
claims of love and nature advocated in
more manly, healthy, and truly wise and
noble style. Cultivated nature speaks in
every part, without mawkish sentimentality
or drivelling cant, asserting, in the persons
of a high-born and honest-hearted woman,
and of a simple and lofty-minded man, the
homage which is ever her desert.

The plot is briefly this. Colombo is

1850.]

Browning's Poems,

393

Duchess of Cleves and Juliers. At the time
represented in the phxy, one year of her
rule has passed amid the adulations of a
court, and she is now to celebrate her
birth-day and the anniversary of her coro-
nation. But the Duchy descends accord-
ing to Salic law, and, this very day, Bert-
hold, the nearest heir male of her father,
backed by the influence of the Pope, the
Emperor, and the Kings of France and
Spain, demands the throne. The arrival
of this demand gives the author a fine op-
portunity to paint the littleness and incon-
stancy of men nurtured amid the artifices
of courts. Each courtier tries to shift up-
on the other the unpleasant duty of present-
ing the demand to the Duchess ; and each
shrinks from the task, desirous of doing
nothing which shall forfeit the favor of their
mistress, and, at the same time, of concil-
iating the new claimant. At this point,
Valence, a young advocate, comes with a
petition from the inhabitants of Cleves for
the redress of their grievances, and, uncon-
scious of its purport, is induced, as the
price of an admission, to present the de-
mand. The Duchess is surprised, heaps
reproaches on her courtiers, who apologize,
shuffle, and temporize. The prince is at
the city gates, and they have no counsel for
the emergency. Valence, with noble man-
liness and chivalry, assumes the responsi-
bilities from which they shrink, is invested
by the Duchess with their offices, and by
his courage and promptitude, at once re-
lieves her from her embarrassments and
wins her heart. She submits to him the
claims of Berthold, and bids him decide up -
on their validity. Valence decides in fa-
vor of the prince, but before the decision is
made known, the prince makes, through
Valence, proposals of marriage with the
Duchess. This dashes all the hopes of
Valence, yet he manfully acquaints her
with his decision and Berthold's oifer. The
Duchess, during the interview, obtains from
him a confession of his love, and then, in
the presence of the court, rejects the pro-
posals of the prince, with his prospects of
imperial rule, for the hand of the humble
advocate of Cleves.

The character of Valence, for in this
play the characters become valuable for
what they are, as well as for what they say,
is drawn with bold yet discriminating
touches. Thrown into the midst of court-

iers, his large sympathies for humanity and
his heart, burning with the wrongs of his
townsmen, contrast finely with their intri-
guing selfishness. While their courtly ac-
complishments, their paltry shifts and eva-
sions but sink them deeper in trouble, act-
ing from the instincts of nature and loyal
to his sovereign, because loyal to his own
conscience, he inspires a confidence, which
he will use only for Truth and Right.
While the Duchess supposes that the fickle
impotence of her courtiers has left her suc-
corless, he reveals to her the true sources
of sovereignty. When she says, " heard
you not I rule no longer," he replies :

" Lady if your rule
Were based alone on such a ground as these
{Poinling to the Courtiers)
Could furnish you — abjure it ! They have

hidden
A source of true dominion from yovir sight.
The Duck. You hear them — no source is left.
Val. Hear Cleves !

Whose haggard craftsmen rose to starve this

day,
Starve now, and will lie down at night to starve,
Sure of alike to-morrow — but assure
Of a most uulike morrow — after — that,
Since end things must, end howsy'er things

may.
What curbs the brute-force instinct in its

hour ?
What makes, instead of rising, all as one.
And teaching fingers, so expert to yield
Their tool, the broad-sword's play, or carbine's

trick '?
— What makes that there's an easier help they

think.
For you, whose name so few of them can spell,
Whose face scarce one in every hundred saw,
You simply have to understand their wrongs,
And wrong will vanish — so, still trades are

plied,
And swords lie rusting, and myself am here ]
There is a vision in the heart of each,
Of justice, mercy, wisdom ; tenderness
To wrong and pain, and knowledge of its cure,
And these embodied in a woman's form,
That best transmits them, pure as first received,
From God above her to mankind below."

And when Berthold reiterates his demand
in person, speaking of the weakness of the
Duchess, he answers :

" You see our Lady ; there, the old shapes

stand !
A Marshal, Chamberlain, and Chancellor,
Be helped their way, into their death put life,
And find advantage ! So you counsel us.
But let strength feel alone, seek help itself.
And, as the inland hutched sea-crcalure hunts
The sea's breast nnt ; as bittered ^mid the leaves,
The desert brute makes for the desert's joy,
So turns our lady to her true resource,

394

Browning's

Poems.

[April,

Passing o'er hollow fictions, worn-out types,

So, 1 am first her instinct fastens on !

And prompt, I say, so clear as heart can speak,

The people will not have you.

Never, in this gentle spot of earth.

Can you become our Colombe, our play-queen,

For whom, to furnish lilies for her hair,

We'd pour our veins forth to enrich the soil."

We would gladly quote the whole scene
between the Duchess and Valence, where
Valence makes known the Prince's pro-
posals of marriage, and where the Duchess
learns the secret of his love for her. He is
hardly an eloquent advocate for the Prince,
since his own love has sharpened his vision
to the want of it in others. The Duchess
asks why Berthold's offer does not imply
love.

" Val. Because not one of Berthold's words and
looks
Had gone with Love's presentment of a flower
To the beloved ; because bold confidence,
Open superiority, free pride —
Love owns not, yet were all that Besthold

owned.
Because, where reason even finds no flaw,
Unerringly a lover's instinct may.''

But upon this topic we have room to ex-
tract only those beautiful lines, in which,
when the Prince in person proffers his hand
and the Duchess seems about to accept it,
he resigns his claims, not only unrepiningly,
but with a kind of triumph.

'^Val. Who thought upon reward ? And yet how

much,
Comes after — oh what amplest recompense ! j
Is the knowledge of her, nought? the memory

nought ?
Lady, sliould such an one have looked on you.
Ne'er wrong yourself so far as quote the world
And say, Love can go unrequited here !
You will have blessed him to his whole life's

end ;
Low passions hindered, baser cares kept back.
All goodness cherished where you dwelt and

dwell.
What would he have ?
He holds you ; you, both form
And mind, iia his ; where self-love makes such

room
For love of you, he would not serve you now
The vulgar way ; repulse your enemies,
Win you new realms, or best in saving you,
Die blissfully, that's past so long !
He wishes you no need, thought, care of him.
Your good, by any means, himself unseen,
Away, forgottou !''

Berthold is the counterpart of Valence.
With his nature half chivalric and half epi-
curean, with his aristocratic tastes and
worldly views of marriage, he represents

the highest class of artificial men. Val-
ence acts always from principle and senti-
ment, without regard to consequences ;
but Berthold, even in wooing a bride, keeps
in view his^darling projects of self-aggran-
dizement. He thus makes love to the
Duchess :

" You are what I, to be complete, must have,
Find, now, and may not find, another time.
While I career on all the world for stage,
There needs at home my representative.

The Duck. Such rather would some warrior wo-
man be ;
One dowered with lands and gold, or rich in

friends;
One like yourself!

Berth. Lady, I am myself.

And have all these. I want what's not my-
self.
Nor has all these. Why give one hand two

swords ?
Here's one already ; be a friend's next gift
A silk glove, if you will — I have a sword !

The Duck. You love me then.
Berth. Your lineage I revere;

Honor your virtue, in your truth believe,
Do homage to your intellect, and bow
Before your peerless beauty.

The Duch. But, for love ;

Berth. A further love I do not understand.
Our best course is to say these hideous truths,
And see them, once said, grow considerable.
Like waters shuddering from their central bed,
Black with the midnight bowels of the earth.
That once up-spouted by an earthquake's throo
A portent and a terror — soon subside,
Freshen apace, take gold and rainbow hues
In sunshine, sleep in shade ; and, at last.
Grow common to the earth as hills and trees,
Accepted by all things they came to scare.

The Duch. You cannot love then.

Berth. Charlamagne, perhaps !"

And again : ' ■

" Your will and choice are still as ever free !
Say you have known a worthier than myself
In mind and heart, of happier form and face ;
Others must have their birthright I I have gifts
To balance theirs, not blot them out of sight,
Against a hundred other qualities
I lay the prize I offer. I am nothing ;
Wed you the Empire T
The Duch. And my heart away?

Berth. When have I made pretension to your

heart ?
I give none. I shall keep your honor safe ;
With mine I trust you as the sculptor trusts
Yon marble woman with die marble i-ose,
Loose on her hand, she never will let fall.
In graceful, silent, slight security."

But Colombo, like the true and noble
woman that she is — and Mr. Browning is
surely very successful in his delineations of
female character — makes, as we have seen,
the choice which her heart dictates. " A

1850.]

Broiuning's Poems.

395

Blotontho 'Scutcheon" surpasses, in beauty
and pathos, all that Mr. Browning has writ-
ten. It is a mournful comment upon a
theme, so often illustrated in life, how the
sweet forgiveness of heaven for human er-
ror is mocked and thwarted by the blind
pride and revenge of man. A spirit of
sadness and despondency, indeed, broods
over it, too like the gloomy fatalism of the
Grecian Drama, for the most benignant
ftiith of Christianity. Yet there Is a touch-
ing appeal from the world and its unkind
decisions, to that mercy which sees, through
the troubled surface of crime, " a depth
of purity immoveable," hidden from mortal
eyes until too late, and a contrite penitence,
soothed by the hope of reconciliations above,
too lovely to be realized on earth — the sen-
timents which shed no irradiation upon the
terrible doom of the House of Tantalus.

We will give a brief outline of the tra-
gedy, quoting as we proceed such passages
as our limits will permit. The house of
Tresham are descended from a long, glo-
rious, and mitarnished line of ancestry. It
consists of three members ; Thorold, the head
of the house ; Austin, who is married to
Guendolen; and Mildred the only sister.
Orphaned in her infancy, Mildred has been
reared under the care of Thorold, who, dis-
charging towards her the office of both parent
and brother, has acquired for her an affec-
tion of the purest and tendorest character.
A marriage is proposed between her and
Mertoun, a young Earl of illustrious parent-
age, and himself endowed with all the
manly virtues. In the first act, Mertoun
is represented as having just attained the
assent of Thorold to the alliance, who, proud
as he is of " brooding o''er"
" The liglit of his interminable line
An ancestry with men all paladaus,"

Can see nothing unworthy in the con-
nection. Says he :

Ever with best desert goes diffidence ;

I may speak plainly nor be misconceived.

That I am wholly satisfied with y.iu,

On this occasion, when a falcon's eye,

Were dull compared with mine to search out
faults.

Is somewhat; Mildred's hand is hers to to give

Or to refuse.
Mer. But you, you grant my suit ?

I have your word if hers 1
Thor. My best of words,

If hers encourage you. I trust it will.

Have you seen Lady Mildred, by the way 1
Mer. I — I— our two demesnes, remember,
touch— -

VOL. V. NO. IV. NEW SERIES.

I have been used to wander carelessly
After my stricken game-— the heron roused
Deep it! my woods, has trailed its broken wing
Thro' thicks and glades a mile in yours ; or else
Some eyas ill-reclaimed has taken tlight,'^
And lured me after her from tree to tree',
I marked not whither. I have come upon
Tile Lady's wondrous beauty unaware.
And— and then— I have seen her.
Thor. \\'hat's to say

May be said briedy. She has never known
A mother's care: I stand for father too.
Her beauty is not strange to you, it seems ;
You cannot know tlie good and tender heart.
It's girl's trust, and it's woman's constancy.
How pure yet passionate, how calm, yet kind,
How grave, yet joyous, how reserved, yet free.
As light where friends are— how imbued with?

love
The World most prizes, yet the simplest. Yet
The— one might know 1 talked of Mildred—

thus
We brothers talk.''

But Mertoun knows far more of Mildred
than he does avow. They have met, loved,
and their love, through timidity and con-
cealment, has lapsed into guilt. Nifht
after night, he has scaled her chamber
window ; and this very evening he repeats
their secret interviews. The scene between
them is pathetic, touching the inmost soul
of pity. Regret for their irretrievable er-
ror, regret for the dissimulation, so alien
to their ingenuous natures, which they are
compelled to assume, love, deep as the
sources of their bemg, and unalloyed but bj
dark stain, trust in the mercy of heaven,
of purification through repentance, and
marriage as the best atonement for their
sin ; these are the subjects upon which they
converse. We have room but for their
parting words, Mildred says :

We'll love on---you will love me still,.
Mer. Oh, to love less what one has injured ! Dove
Whose pinion I have rashly hurt, my breast —
Shall my heart's warmth not nurse thee into

strength ?
Flower I have crushed, shall I not care for theeT
Bloom o'er my crest, my fight-mask, and de-
vice,
Mildred, I love you, and you love me.
Mil. Go!

Be that your last word. I shall sleep to-night.
Mer. Oue night more.

And then — think, then !
Mer. Then no sweet courtship. days,

No dawning consciousness of love for us,.
No strange and palpitating births of sense,
From words and looks, uc innocent fears and

hopes,
Reserves and confidence.?; moruing's-over !
Mer. How else sh,)uld love's perfested nooB.
tide follow 7

396

Broivning's Poe?ns»

[April,

All the dawn promised shall the day perform.
Mil. So may it be ; but—

You are cautious, love ?
Are sure that, unobserved, you scaled the
walls ?
Mer. Oh, trust me ! Then our final meeting's
fixed ?
To-morrow night ?
3Iil. Farewell ! Stay, Henry. Wherefore ?
His foot is on the yew-trew bough — the turf
Receives him — now the moonlight, as he runs,
Embraces him — but he must go — is gone —
Ah, once agaiu he turns — thanks, thanks, my

love !
He's gone — Oh, I'll believe him, every word !
I was so young — I loved him so — I had
No mother, — God forgot me, — and I fell.
There may be pardon yet — all's doubt be-
yond.
Surely the bitterness of death is past !

But their meetings have not been wholly
nnobserved. For several nights, an old
retainer has seen a muffled stranger enter
his lady's chamber, and now, in view of
the proposed marriage, his conscience will
not permit him, any longer, to defer the
discovery of the secret. Thorold is thun-
derstruck at the disclosure. He sends for
her to meet him in the library, on the pre-
tence that " the passage in that old Italian
book we hunted for so long is found."

Enter Midred.
Mil. What book

Is it I wanted, Thorold 7 Gwendolen
Thought you were pale — you are not pale!

That look 1
That's Latin surely ?
7^7)01-. Mildred, here's a line —

(Don't lean on me — I'll English it for you)
" Love conquers all things." What love con-
quers them ?
What love should you esteem— best love ?
Mil. True love.

Thor. I mean, and I should have said, whose

love is best
Of til that love, or that profess to love ?
Mil. The hst's so long. There's father's, mo-

thei-'s, husband's —
Thor. Mildred, I do believe a brother's love
For a sole sister, must exceed them all !
For, see now ; only see ! there's no alloy
Of earth that creeps into the perfect' st gold
Of other loves— no gratitude to claim ;
You never gave her life--nor even aught
Thai keeps life — never tended her— instructed,
Enriched her — so, your love can claim no

right
O'er hers, save pure love's claim— that's what

I call
Freedom from earthliness. You'll never hope
To be such friends, for instance, she and you.
As when you hunted cowslips in the woods.
Or played together in the meadow hay.
Oh, yes— with age, respect comes, and your

w^orth
Is felt ; there's growing sympathy of tastes,

There's ripened friendship, there's confirmed

esteem,
—Much head these make against the new-
comer !
The startling apparition— the strange youth—
Whom one half hour's conversing with, or,

eay,
Mere gazing at, shall change (beyond all

change
This Ovid ever sang about) your soul
—Her soul,-— that is, the sister's soul ! With

her
'Twas winter yesterday ; now, all is warmth,
The green leaf's springing, and the turtle's

voice
'■Arise and come away." Come whither?—

far
Enough from the esteem, respect, and all
The brother's somewhat insignificant
Array of rights ! all which he knows before —
Has calculated on so long ago !
I think such love (apart from yours and mine)
Contented with its little term of life,
Intending to retire betimes, aware
How soon the background must be a place for

it,
I think, am sure, a brother's love exceeds
All the world's love in its unwordliness.
3IU. What is this for 1

Tlwr. This, Mildred, is it for;

Oh, no, I cannot go to it so soon !
That's one of many points my haste left out —
Each day, each hour throws forth its silk-slight

film
Between the being tied to you by birth.
And you, until those slender threads compose
A web, that shrouds her daily life of hopes.
And fears, and fancies, all her life, from

yours---
So close you live, and yet so far apart !
I must rend this web, tear up, break down
The sweet and palpitating mystery
That makes her sacred ? You — for you I

mean.
Shall I speak— shall I not speak ?
Mil. Sp eak f

Thor. I will.

Is there a story men could— any man
Could tell of you, you would conceal from me 1
I'll never think there's falsehood on that lip !
Say " There is no such story men could tell,"
And I'll believe you, tho' I disbelieve
The world— the world of better men than I,
And vi'omen, such as I suppose you--Speak.'
[After a pause.] Not speak ? Explain then !

Clear it up then! Move
Some of the miserable weight away,

That presses lower than the grave! Not

.=;peak ?
Some of the dead weight, Mildred ! Ah, if I
Could bring myself to plainly make their charge
Apainst you ! Must I, Mildred 1 Silent still ?
[After a pansc] Is there a gallant that has,

night by niiiht.
Admittance to your chamber?
[After a -pause.] Then his name !

Till now, I only had a thought Lr you—
But now,--his name !
Mil. Thorold, do you devise

1850.]

Browning's Poems.

397

Fit expiali'in for my guilt, if fit
There be ! 'tis nought to say, that I'll endure
And bless you, ---that my spirit yearns to purge
Her stains off in the fierce renewing fire---
But do not plunge me into other guilt !
Oh, guilt enough ! I cannot tell h's name.
Tkor. Then judge yourself! How should I
act? Pronounce.

Mildred persists in refusing to name ber
lover, but proposes to proceed in tbe mar-
riage witb tbe Earl. Tborold, sbuddering at
wbat be supposes an infamous fraud upon
Mertoim, and a contamination of a boly rite,
exposes ber guilt to Austin and Guendo-
len, and, frenzied witb madness, roams
all day over bis estates, to return at nigbt
bencatb tbe tree, wbicb Mertoun climbs
to reacb bis lady's window. Here be
meets Mertomi, forces bim to unmask bim-
self and draw bis sword, tbcn madly slays
tbe unresisting youtb. Tbe dying lover
reveals to bim tbe true nature of bis love,
and bis proposed reparation. Tborold,
stricken witb remorse, drinks poison, bears
to jNIildred tbe intelligence of tbe deed,
wbo expires, forgiving bim bis rasb act,
and tben be bimself dies.

We will quote from tbis play one more
passage, wbere, wben Austin and Guen-
dolen, bave gatbered around tbe corpse
of tbe Earl, Tborold turns to tbem, and
says:

He fell just here !
Now, answer me. Shall you, in your whole

life
—You. that bave naught to do with Mertoun's

fate,
Now, you have seen his breast upon the turf,
Shall you ere walk this way if you can help ?
When you and Austin wander arm in arm
Thro' our ancestral grounds, will not a shade
Be ever on the meadow and the waste---
Another kind of shade, than when the night
Shuts the woodside with all its whispers up !
But will you ever .so forget his breast
As willingly to cross the bloody turf
Under tlie black yew avenue? That's well !
You turn your head ! and I then ?

Giien. What is done

Is done ! My care is for the living. Thorold,
Bear up against the burthen---more remains
To set the neck to !

Thor. Dear and ancient trees

My fathers planted, and I loved so well !
What have I done that, like some fabled

crime
Of gore, lets loose a fury, leading thus
Her miserable dance amidst you all ?
Oh, never more for me shall winds intone
With all your tops a vast antiphony.
Demanding and responding in God's praise !
Hers ye are now-'-noi mine ! Farewell-—
farewell !

Of " Lusia" we bave no space for a
complete analysis. It represents tbe in-
stinct and feeling of tbe orient brougbtinto
conflict witb tbe calculating intellect of
Europe, and nobly vindicating its moral
superiority over tbe cold-bearted Macbia-
vellianism, by wbicb it is entoiled and over-
matcbed. It bas been called Mr. Brown-
ing's greatest work ; but, in our opmion,
tbougb admirable for its tbougbt and pbilo-
sopby, it is surpassed, as a drama, by
eitber of tbe two preceding. Its tbeories
are too imperfectly transfused into cbarac-
ter. It is poem and commentary in one.
Tbe persons, instead of exbaling tbe pbilo-
sopby of tbe piece, unconsciously, as tbeir
vital atmospbere, are continually pbiloso-
pbizing upon tbemselves. Even Lusia,
tbe warm-bearted Moor, tbe fiery creature
of feebng, is ever and anon bmting, as it
were, " Now, you are going to witness a
fine specimen of impulsiveness and instinct-
ive action," and indulges in etbnological
speculations upon tbe difierences between
tbe Asiatic and tbe European. Lusia and
Braccio, indeed, seem very mucb like ab-
stract propositions defining tbemselves —
egotistical transactions. Now, Hamlet, or
lago, or Falstaff, is as representative of a
distinct class, as Lusia tbe Arab, or Brac-
cio tbe Florentine, but in Sbakespeare tbe
generic is so individualized, tbat tbe ab-
straction is forgotten in tbe man. Lusia
and Otbello, for instance, are botb Moors,
botb credulous, gonerous, impulsive, un-
scbooled in wile or craft ; but wbile Otbello
imprints bis cbaracter on every word and
act of bis, witbout tbinking of it, Lusia
is constantly reminding us, ' I do so and
so, because I am tbe Moor, tbe representa-
tive of Oriental spoutanicty, and am not
one of your cold, cunning, artful Euro-
peans.' "

But we bave not room for futber re-
mark upon tbis play, excellont and beauti-
ful, as in many respects it is. Perbaps, if
we sbould compare it witb " Colombe's
Bbtbday," or witb " A Blot on tbe
'Scutebeon," we sbould say tbat in this
play tbere are tbe nobler materials, but in
tbe otbers, tbey are tbe more exquisitely
wrougbt.

Mr. Browning's otber plays are '' Kinc
Victor and King Cbarles," "Tbe Return
of tbe Druses," and " A Soul's Tragedy,"
works of various excellence, and all mark-

398

Browning's Poems.

[April,

ed with his peculiar intellect. We would
gladly specify their merits, but must refer
the reader to the volumes themselves, and
recommend him, by the way, to suspend
his judgment, until he has read them
twice. We should, likewise, be glad to
speak, somewhat in detail, of his " Dra-
matic Lyrics," some of which are written
with great power and beauty, and some of
which, in then- abrupt beginning, and mys-
terious allusions, and sudden transitions,
are as simple as a Chinese puzzle — you
have only to find out their meaning in or-
der to understand them. We open at ran-
dom, and come upon " Christina."

" She should never have looked at me
If she meant I should not love her ;
There are plenty— men you call such,

I 8uppose---she may discover
All her soul to. if she pleases,

And yet leave much as she found them ;
- But I'm not so, and she knew it,

When she fixed me, glancing round them."

This is the first verse. Our first ex-
clamation is, " Who the devil Is Christina."
But there is nothing out of the poem, nor
in it, that answers the question very satis-
factorily. We are left to guess at the reply
to all such suggestions of womanish curios-
ity. We are next struck by the slovenli-
ness of versification, evidently showing that
the poem was a mere impromptu. Indeed,
the native freshness of none of these poems
has been sufi"ered to evaporate in the te-
dious processes of revision. But, unfortu-
nately, such meteoric corruscations of
poetic frenzy are sometimes a little bewil-
dering to men of cooler imagination, and
touchingly recall the injunctions of Ho-
race, in regard to " liniae labor et mora,
and nonumque frematur in annum. Let
Mr. Browning recite some of these lyrics
to a crowd of listeners, and he would soon
appreciate the beauty, as well as the ne-
cessity, of a more Homeric clearness and
simplicity ; or, let him subject one of his
plays to the ordeal of the stage, and we
know of nothing that would sooner teach
him his defects in dramatic composition.
Yet, however much they might be im-
proved by a more finished versification,
and a more simple diction, no one can
read such productions as his '* Garden
Fancies," " The Lost Leader," " The Pied
Piper of Hamelin," and "The Boy and
.the Angel," without a high estimate of the

range, versatility, and originality of his
mind.

And here we take our leave of this de-
lightful author, convinced that he has yet
high duties to fulfil for his age. Walter
Savage Landor has said of him, excepting
Shakspeare :

" Since Chaucer was alive and hale,
No man hath walkt along our roads with step
So active, so inquiring eye, and tongue
So varied in discourse ;''

and these endowments, he feels, were
given, not merely to amuse and delight his
generation, but also to subserve the higher
oflices of teacher and thinker. His aim is
not merely to combine the actual forms of
Nature, and of life, so that they may feed
the sense of beauty and of mirth. He has
come into a mechanical time, to find men
enamoured of a material prosperity, to see
wealth exacting the homage due only to
goodness, to see the leaders of public opin-
ion pandering to that low estimate of edu-
cation and morals, which regards merely
their pecuniary value, to see marriage,
friendship, social intercourse, the judg-
ments of mind, and the convictions of
conscience, debased in vile thraldom by
the despotism of gold ; and while he re-
fiects, in the mirror of poetry, all these,
and the more lovely and holy characteris-
tics of the age, he is not to forget to pour
upon them a luminous efiiuence from his
own spirit, which shall disabuse grosser
minds of their false perception, by showing
the sad eff"ects of such worldliness upon the
undying nature of the soul. He is sent,
not merely to create a new world of Fancy,
but, likewise, to re-create this old world in
a higher spirit, as, indeed, the mission of
genius is always rather one of regeneration,
than of creation. Forgotten truths, old
conceptions of duty, old ideals of excel-
lence, are to be revivified under the new
aspects of present life. If men, in reliance
upon the inventions of human reason, grow
regardless of heavenly grace, he is to re-
store them to humble trust, not only by
showing how illusory is that confidence,
but, also, by showing how infallibly men
grow into a likeness to that in which they
confide. If men have set their hearts upon
worldly gains, and honors, and delights, he
is to open upon them the vision of unseen
principles and ideal truth. If they are

1850.]

Browning's Poems.

899

dwarfing their minds by a vain admiration of
the miracles of their own medianism, he must
point to the consummate glories which go
forth with the night, and the ineflFable bene-
ficence which returns with the rising sun.
If, in their superiority of railroad and tele-
graphic communication, they exult over
antiquity, he must sing to them of a time,
when the angels of heaven bore messages
of light and love between God and his crea-

tm-es. If affection is absorbed in intellect,
and intellect is made the drudge of the
senses, he must lead the mind back through
the heart into the wisdom of love and the
beauty of holiness. It is in the discharge
of these high functions of poet and teacher,
that Mr. Browning manifests his highest
excellence, surpassing, we had almost
said, with the exception of Wordsworth,
every poet of hi^ time.

\ J

400

Sidonia,

[April,

SIDONIA, THE SORCERESS.

This is a novel, so totally different from all
others, that it is difficult to speak of it as such,
and yet the conception of the principal char-
acter can scarcely be called original. The
delineation of Sidonia, in her demoniac career,
is not unlike some of the creations of Maturin,
Bulwer, Mrs. Shelley, and others, though far
beneath them in power. The author refers to
absolute evidences, and quotes seriously,— we
presume, truthfully.— (though we have neither
opportunity nor de,sire to make the research,)
from various historical and biographical
authorities : leaving the reader, nevertheless,
to form his own opinion, as to the sources
from which he has chiefly drawn ; or, whether,
indeed, the story, as a whole, be actually
truth or fiction. The style aflfects an easy,
natural gossip, so plain and matter of fact,
that the most incredible and ridiculous aver-
ments are swallowed whole, like an oyster,
slipping down before we have time to taste
the quality.

In order to spare the reader any difficulties
which might 'present themselves to the eye
and ear, in consequence of the old-fa.shioned
mode of writing, the author professes to have
modernized the orthography, and amended the
grammar and structure of the phrases. The
eflfect of this " old-fashioned mode," however,
is increased by the use of the Latin pronouns
lUe, Ilia, Hie and Hisc, to denote the different
characters speaking in dialogue. The author
has made the story a vehicle for the introduc-
tion of his own peculiar views of Christi-
anity.

Sidonia Von Bork is said to have belonged
to a noble and ancient family of Pomerania.
The first public judicial account of her trial
for witchcraft is referred to the Pomeranian
Library of Dahnert, 4th volume, article 7th,
July number, of the year 1756. She is repre-
sented as " the most beautiful and the richest
of the maidens of Pomerania." A marriage,
about to be consummated between her and
Duke Ernest Louis Von Wolgast, was pre-
vented by the timely discovery of her infam-
ous character. After many years of a wan-
dering and dissolute life, she entered the con-
vent of Marienflies, became subsequently its
Prioress, and was finally convicted and exe-
cuted for witchcraft.

Of the numerous portraits of this remarka-
hle woman, our author declares himself ac-
quainted with but one, which is at Stargard,
near Regenwilde, in the castle of the Count
Von Bork. In this portrait, Sidonia, we are told,
is represented in the prime of mature beauty.
"A gold net is drawn over her almost golden
hair, and her neck, arms, and hands are pro-
fusely covered with jewels. Her boddice, a
bright purple, is trimmed with costly fur, and
the robe is of azure velvet. In her hand she
carries a pompadour of brown leather, and of
the most elegant form and finish. Her eyes
and mouth are not pleasing, notwithstanding
their great beauty, — in the mouth, particularly,
one can discern cold malignity. The painting
is beautifully executed, and is evidently of
the school of Lotiis Kranach.

Immediately behind this form, there is ano-
ther looking over the shoulder of Sidonia, like
a terrible spectre, (a highly poetical idea,) for
this spectre is Sidonia herself, painted as a
sorceress. It must have been added, after a
lapse of many years, to the youthful portrait,
which belongs to the school of Kranach,
whereas the second figure portrays unmistaka-
bly the school of Rubens. The sorceress is
arrayed in her death garments — white, with
black stripes ", and round her thin white locks
is bound a narrow band of black velvet, spot-
ted with gold. I her hand is a kind of
work-basket oi tU simplest form."

In the novel its heroine is possessed of a
sort of devilish grace and wit, which flashes
brilliantly over the proud beauty of her youth,
and throws a death-fire light on the the ugli-
ness of her old age. Among the earliest ex-
amples of Sidonia's cruel nature, is an anec-
dote of picking and roasting a goose, ahve,
which, however, unluckily for the author's
assumed antiquity, is precisely after the re-
cipe given by Dr. Kitchener in the Cook's
Oracle.

In the bloom of her maiden beauty, Sidonia
is taken to the court of Wolgast, and admitted
among the Maids of Honor to the Duchess.
At the table of this pious lady our heroine
betrays her ungodly education, by the inabil-
ity to say grace ; and, on the second, (it being
Sunday,) to the amazement and horror of her
highness, she is incapable of fijiding the les-

1850.]

Sido7iia.

401

sons for the day, and knows not the New Tes-
tament from the Old. She is accordingly
placed under the instiuction of her Grace's
chaplain, Dr. Gerschovius, and required to
learn, first, the Catechism Lutheri, aiul after-
ward the Catechism Gerschovii; in both of
which she fails, and, indeed, turns the whole
affair into ridicule, to the great scanilal
and disgust of her Grace, the Doctor, and the
Ladies of Honor.

On the young nobility and gentlemen of the
Court, the new inmate produces quite an op-
posite impression. '• All the young 'squires-'
fall in love with her, and she takes care to
throw herself in their way, and by the arts and
flatteries with which she knows how to in-
crease the power of her charms, soon wins over
the whole court to her interests.

" After dinner, in place of going direct to the
ladies' apartments, she would take a circuitous
route, so as to go by the quarter where tlie men
dined, and as she passed their doors, which they
left open on purpose, what rejoicing there was,
and such running and squeezing just to get a
glimpse of her — the little putting their heads under
the arms of the tall, and there they began to laugh
and chat ; but neither the Duchess nor the old
Chamberlain knew any thing of this, for they
were in a different wing of the castle, and besides,
always took a sleep after dinner."

With Prince Ernest she is especially suc-
cessful, and to win his atfections, and, through
him, to become a Princess of the Ducal House
of Pomerania, is her grand object.

The 11th chapter of our novel is headed :
'■'How Sidonia repeated the catechism of Dr.
Gerschovius, and how she whipped the young
Casimir, out of pure evil-minded ness."" How
she repeated the catechism is as follows :

" The Sunday came at last, when Sidonia was
to be examined publicly in the cateehi.sm of Dr.
Gerschovius. Her Grace was filled with anxiety
to see how all would terminate, for every one sus-
pected (as indeed was the case) that not one word
of it would she be able to repeat. So the church
was crowded, and all the young men attended
without exception, knowing what was to go for-
ward, and fearing for Sidonia, because this Dr.
Gerschovius was a stem, harsh man ; but she her-
self seemed to care little about the matter, for she
entered her Grace's closet as usual (which was
right opposite the pulpit) and threw herself care-
lessly into a corner. However, when the doctor
entered the pulpit, she became more grave, and
finally, when his discourse was drawing near to
the close, she rose up quietly and glided out of the
closet, intending to descend to the gardens. Her
Grace did not perceive her movement, in conse-
quence of the hat with the heron's plume which
fihe wore — for the feathers drooped down at the
side next Sidonia, and the other ladies were too
much alarmed to venture to draw her attention to
the circumstance. But the priest from the pulpit

saw her well, and called out — " Maiden ! maiden !
Whither go you ? remember ye have to repeat youi"
catechism !"

Then Sidonia grew quite pale, for her Grace and
all the congregation fixed their eyes on her. So
when she felt quite conscious that she was look-
ing pale, she said — " You see from my face that I
am not well ; but if I get better, doubt not but
that I shall return immediately." Here all tho
maids of honor put up their kerchiefs to hide their
laughter, and the young nobles did the same.

" So she went away, but they might wait long
enough, I think, for her to come back. So they
all proceeded to Sidonia's little room ; for there
she was, to their great surprise, seated upon a
chair with a smelling-bottle in her hand. Where-
upon her Grace demanded what ailed her, and
why she had not staid to repeat the catechism.

" Ilia. — ' Ah ! she was so weak, she would cer-
tainly have fainted, if she had not descended to the
garden to have a little fresh air.' "

" Then," quoth her Grace, " you shall recite the
catechism here for the doctor ; for, in truth, Chris-
tianity is as necessary to you as water to a fish."

" The doctor now cleared his throat to begin,
but she stopped him pertly, saying —

" I do not choose to say my catechism here in
my room, like a little child. Grown-up maid-
ens are always heard in the church.' "

" Howbeit, her Grace motioned to him not to
heed her. So to his first question she replied
rather snappishly — ' You have your answer al-
ready.' "

" No wonder the priest grew black with rage ;
but seeing a book lying open on a little table, be-
side her bed, and thinking it was tho catechism ot
Dr. Gerschovius which she had been studying, ha
stepped over to look. But judge his horror, when
he found it was a volume of the Amadis do
Gaul."

The Duchess, on quitting the maiden,
threatens to banish her the Court ; for which
Sidonia inflicts corporeal revenge upon the
little Prince Casimir, who had offered to re-
cite the catechism, instigated by his mother, to
put Sidonia to shame.

" She took it angrily, and, calling him over,
said: ' Yes; come — I will hear your catechism.'
And as the little boy came up close beside her, sha
slung him across her knee, pulled down his ho.^e.
and — oh, shame ! — whipped his Serene Highness
upon his princely podex, that it would have melt-
ed the heart of a stone. How this shows her cruel
and mischievous disposition — to revenge on the
child what she had to bear from the mother. Fm
on the maiden I"

The celebration of her Highness's birth-day
affords a good picture of the barbarism and
the splendor of the court. Tlie grand ducal
hall is described as of great magnificence, con-
taining a painted window, sixty feet high, de-
lineating the pilgrimage of Duke Bokislaff the
Great to Jerusalem, all painted by Gerhard
Horner, a Frieslander, and the most celebrated

402

Sidonia.

[April,

painter on glass of his time. In this hall are
assembled all the lords of the court, and at
the sound of drums and trumpets the great
doors, all wreathed with flowers, are flung
open by the marshal, and the ])rincely
widow enters, with great pomp, leading the
little Casimir by the hand. She is arrayed in
the Pomeranian costume, a white silk under-
robe, and over it a surcoat of azure velvet,
brocaded with silver. A long train of white
velvet, embroidered in golden laurel wreaths,
is supported by twelve pages in black velvet
cassocks, with Spanish ruffis. From a coif of
scarlet velvet, with small plumes, the Duchess
wears a white veil, spangled with silver stars,
and hanging to her feet, and from her neck is
depended, by a gold and scarlet chain, a bal-
sam flask in the form of a greyhound.

" As her Serene Highness entered with fresh and
blushing cheeks, all bowed low and kissed her
hand, glittering with diamonds. Then each offered
his congratulations as best he could.

" Among them came Johann Neander, Arch-
deacon of St. Peter's, who was seeking preferment,
considering that his present living was but a poor
one ; and so he presented hor Grace witli a print-
ed traclatum dedicated to her Highness, in which
the question was discussed whether the ten virgins
mentioned Matt. x.xv. were of noble or citizen
rank. But Dr. Gerschovius made a mock of him
for tliis afterward, before the whole table."*

Prince Ernest having yielded to the fascina-
tions of Sidonia, it is decided by the Duchess
and her honest counsellor, Ulrich, to send the
young lady away ; but no sooner has she
gone than the Prince is seized with convul-
sions, and carried fainting to his bed, where
he only revives to call on Sidonia — his belov-
ed Sidonia. We think we have known gen-
tlemen in these modern times, affected simi-
larly in somewhat similar cases, where the
fits were pretty sure to operate on tender fe-
male sensibilities. Her Grace summons the

* Over these exegetical disquisitions of a former
a^e we smile, and with reason ; but, we pedantic
Gennans, have carried our modern exegetical ma-
nia to such absurd lengths, that we are likely
to become as much a laughing-stock to our
cotemporaries, as well as to posterity, as this
Johannes Neander. In fact our c.xegetists are
mostly pitiful schoolmasters — word-anatomists —
and one could as little learn the true spirit of an
old classic poet from our pedantic philologists, as
tire true sense of Holy Scripture from our scholas-
tic theologians. What with their grammar twist-
ings, their various readings, their dubious punctua-
tions, their mythical and who knows what other
meanings, their hair splittings, and prosy vocable
tiltings, we find at last that they are willing to
teach us every thing but that which really concerns
us, and like the Danaides, they let the water of
life run through the sieve of their learning.

Court Physician, Dr. Pomius, in whom she
has so much faith that she fancies a vast
amount of profound knowledge to be express-
ed, if he only "put his finger to the end of his
nose."

The learned Doctor prescribes in vain, and
the Duchess recalls Sidonia. The Prince re-
covers, and between him and Sidonia a pri-
vate marriage is planned, which is prevented,
however, by the accidental discovery, through
Clara Von Dewitz, of Sidonia's criminality.

This good and modest Clara stands always
in delicate contrast to the splendid beauty and
mischievous wickedness, the mingled pride
and meanness of Sidonia. Many years after-
wards, when Sidonia, separated from the rob-
ber band, her associates, is caried forcibly into
the Castle of Daber, by her cousin, Marcus
Bork, whom she endeavors to stab, the char-
acter of Clara is brought out pleasingly :

" All this while no one had troubled himself
about Sidonia. My gracious lady wept, the young
lords laughed, old Ulrich swore, while the good
Marcus murmured softly to his young wife —

" ' Bo happy Clara ; for thy sake I shall consent
to go to Saafzig. I have decided.' "

" This filled her with such joy that she danced,
and smiled, and flung herself into her mother's
arms ; nothing was wanting now to her happiness !
Just then her eyes rested upon Sidonia, who was
leaning against the wall as pale as a corspe. Clara
grew quite calm in a moment, and asked, compas-
sionately—

" ' What ailcth thee, poor Sidonia V "
" ' / am hungry ." was the answer.
" At this the genile bride, was so shocked that
the tears filled her eyes, and she exclaimed —

" ' Wait, thou shalt partake of my wedding-
feast ;' and away went she.

" The attention of the others was, by this time,
also directed to Sidonia. And old Ulrich said —
' What shall we now do with Sidonia 1'

" Upon which my Lady of Wolgast turned to
her, and asked her if she were yet wedded to her
gallows-bird ?

" ' Not yet,' w<as the answer, ' but she would'soon
be.'

" Then my gracious Lady spat out at her ;
and, addressing Ulrich asked what he would ad-
vise.

" So the stout old knight said —
" ' If the matter were left to him he would just
send for the executioner, and have her ears and
nose slit, as a warning and example, for no good
could ever come of her now, and then pack her off
next day to her farm at Zachow ; for if they let
her loose, she would run to her paramour again,
and come at last to gallows and wheel ; but if
they just slit her nose, then he would hold her in
abhorrence, as well as other maiden folk.'

" During this Clara had entered, and set fish,
and wild-boar, and meat, and bread, before tho
girl ; and as she heard Ulrich's last words, she bent
down and whispered —

" ' Fear nothing, Sidonia, I hope to be able to
protect thee, as I did once before ; only eat, Sido-

1850.]

Sidonia,

403

nia ! Ah ! hadst thou followed my advice ! I
always meant well by thee, and even now, if I
thought thou wouldst repent truly, poor Sidonia, I
would take thee to my castle of Saatzig, and never
let thee want for aught through life.'

" When Sidonia heard this, she wept and prom-
ised amendment. Only let Clara try her, for she
could never go to Zachow, and play the peasant
girl. Upon which Clara turned to her Highness,
and prayed her Grace to give Sidonia up to her.
See how she was weeping ; misfortune traly had
softened her, and she would soon be brought back to
God. Only let her take her to Saatzig, and treat
her as a sister. At this, however, old Ulrich shook
his head —

"'Clara, Clara,' he exclaimed, ' knowcst thou
not that the Moor cannot change his skin, nor the
leopard his spots ? I can not, then let the serpent
go. Think on our mother, girl ; it is a bad work
playing with serpents.'

" Her Grace, too became thoughtful, and said,
at last —

" ' Could we not send her to the convent at Ma-
rienfliess, or somewhere else V

" ' What the devil would she do in a convent V
exclaimed the old knight. ' To infect the young
maidens with her vices, or plague them with her
pride ? Now, there was nothing else for her but to
be packed otf to Zachow.'

" Now Clara looked up once again at her hus-
band, with her soft, tearful eyes, for he had said
no word all this time, but remained quite mute ;
and he drew her to him, and said —

" ' I understand thy wish, dear Clara, but the old
knight is right. It is a dangerous business, dear
Clara! Let Sidonia go.'

" At this Sidonia crawled forth like a serpent
from her corner, and howled —

" ' Clara had pity on her, but he would turn her
out to starve — he, who bore her own name, and
was of her own blood.'

" Alas ! the good knight was ashamed to refuse
any longer, and finally promised the evil one that
she should go with them to Saatzig. So her
Cirace at last consented, but old Ulrich shook his
gray head ten times more.

" He had lived many years in the world, but
never had it come to his knowledge that a godless
man was tamed by love. Fear was the only teacher
for them. All their love would be thrown away
on this harlot ; for even if the stout Marcus kept
her tight with bit and rein, and tried to bring her
back by fear, yet the moment his back was
turned, Clara would spoil all again by love and
kindness.'

" However, nobody minded the good knight,
though it all came to pass just as he had prophe-
sied."

The terrible death of this lovely creature,
through the fiend-like cruelty of Sidonia,
hreaks the last link, as it were, of her human-
ity, and forbids anything like a fellow-
feeling for her subsequent sufferings.

The after life of the sorceress is devoted to
revenge upon all who have been obstacles in
her path, and especially upon the unfortunate
house of Pomerania. The sub-Piioress, Do-

rothea Stettin, is one of the most afflicted of
her victims. Some passages in the life of this
over-sensitive maiden are more ludicrous than
pathetic.

Dorothea, repenting the confidence she had
placed in Sidonia, falls sick, and the medicus,
Dr. Schwalenberg, is called y

" This doctor was an excellent little man, rath-
er past middle age though still unmarried, upright
and honest, but rough as a bean-straw. When he
stood by Dorothea's bed, and had heard all parti-
culars of her illness, he bid her put out her hand,
that he might feel her pulse.

" ' No, no ;' she answered, ' that she could never
do ; never in her life had a male creature felt her
pulse.'

" At this my doctor laughed right merrily, and
all the nuns who stood round, and Sidonia's old
maid Wolde laughed likewise, but at last he per-
suaded Dorothea to stretch out her hand.

" ' I must bleed her,' said the doctor. ' This 13
fehris putrida ; therefore was her thirst so great :
she must strip her arm till he bleed her.' But no
one can persuade her to this, strip her arm ! no,
never could she do it, she would die first : if the
doctor could do nothing else he may go his ways.

" Now the doctor grew angry. Such a cursed
fool of a woman he had never come across in his
life ; if she did not strip her arm instantly, he
would do it by force. But Dorothea is inflexible ;
say what he would, she would strip her arm for no
man !

" Even the abbess and the sisterhood tried to
persuade her —

" ' Would she not do it for her health's sake ;
or, at least, for the sake of peace 1'

" They were all here standing round her, but all
in vain. At last the doctor, half-laughing, half-
cursing, said —

" ' He would bleed her in the foot. Would that
do?

" ' Yes, she would consent to that ; but the
doctor must leave the room while she was getting
ready.'

" So my doctor went out, but on entering again
found her sitting on the bed, dressed in her lull
convent robes, her head upon Anna Apenborg^'s
shoulder, and her foot upon a stool. As the foot,
however, was covered with a stocking, the doctor
began to scold —

" ' What was the stocking for ? Let him take
off' the stocking. Was she making a fool of him ?
He advised her not to try it.'

" ' No, Dorothea answered, ' never would she
strip her foot for him. Die she would, if die she
must, but that she could never do ! If he could
not bleed her through the stockmg, he must go his
ways.'

" Summa. — As neither prayers nor threatening
were of any avail, the doctor, in truth, had to
bleed her through the stocking."

The poor sub-Prioress becomes possessed of
a devil, or, as our author would explain it, is
put into a somnambulistic state, wherein she
declares that health can only be restored to

404

Sidonia.

[April,

her through the intervention of Diliana, the
daughter of Jebit Bork — the beautiful Diliana,
whose '• name is borne by no second on earth,"
and who ''is unequalled in goodness, piety, hu-
mility, chastity, and courage." The damsel im-
mediately appears, and becomes thenceforward
the heroine of the story. Diliana is the
granddaughter of Clara Von Dewitz, and a
more lov^ely creation has rarely graced the
pages of fiction. She is the redeeming virtue
of the book — amid the coarse barbarisms, vul-
garity, and superstition of the times — amid
witchcraft and wickedness, she passes on, a
Becond Una.

So pure and innocent,-

She was in life and every virtuous lore."

In Diliana's interview with the Duke and
the Magister, our author sets forth some of his
peculiar tenets :

" At last Diliana exclaimed eagerly —

" ' Ah I can it be possible to speak with the
blessed angels, as the evil women speak with the
devil '? In trath, I would like to see an angel.'

" At this the Duke looked significantly at the
Magister, who immediately advanced, and began
to explain the opus magicum et theurgicum to the
maiden, as follows —

" ' You know, fair young virgin, that our Sa-
viour saith of the innocent children : ' Their angels
always see the face of my Father, which is in heav-
en.' (Matt, xviii.) Item, St. Paul, (Heb. 1.) :
' Are not the angels ministering spirits, sent forth
for the service of those who are heirs of salvation ' ?
This is no new doctrine, but one as old as the
world. For you know further that Adam, Noah,
the holy patriarchs, the prophets, &.C., talked with
angels, because their faith was great. Item, you
know that, even in the New Testament, angels
were stated to have appeared and talked with
men ; but later still, during the papal times even,
the angels of God appeared to divers persons, as
was well known, and of their own free will. For
they did not always appear of free will ; and
therefore, from the beginning, conjurations were
employed to compel them, and fragments of those
have come down to us ex traditione, as we Ma-
gistri say, from the time of Shem, the son of Noah,
who revealed them to his son Misraim ; and so,
from son to son, they have reached to our day,
and are still powerful.'

" ' But,' spake Diliana, ' is it then possible, for
man to compel angels! '

" llle. — ' Yes, by three different modes ; first,
through the word, or the intellectual vinculum :
secondly, through the heavenly bodies, or the as-
tral vinculum ; lastly, through the earthly crea-
tures, or the elementary vinculum.

" ' Respecting first the word, you know that all
things were made by it, and without it was nothing
made that is made. With God the Lord, there-
fore, loord and thing are one and the same, for
when he speaks it is done ; he commands, and it
stands there. Also, with our father Adam, was
the word all-powerful ; for he ruled over all beasts

of the field, and birds, and creepmg things by the
name which he gave unto them, that is, by the
word. (Gen. ii.) This power, too, the word of
Noah possessed, and by it he drew the beasts into
the ark (Gen. vii.), for we do not read that he
drave them, which would be necessary now, but
they went into the ark after him, two and two,
i. e. compelled by the power of his word.

" ' Next follows the astral vinculum, i. e. the
sympathy between us and the heavenly bodies or
stars wherein the angels dwell and rule. We
must know their divers aspects, configurations,
risings, settings, and the like, also the precise time,
hour, and minute in which they exercise an influ-
ence over angel, man, and lower creatures, accord-
ing as the ancients, and particularly the Chalde-
ans have taught us, for spirit can not influence spir-
it at every moment, but only at particular tunes
and particular circumstances.

" ' Lastly comes the elementary vinculum, or
the sympathy which binds all earthly creatures to-
gether— men, animals, plants, stones, vapors, and
exhalations, &,c., but above all this cementing sym-
pathy is strongest in pure virgins, as you, much-
praised Diliana — '

" Hereupon she spake, surprised —
" ' How can all this be ? Is it not folly to sup-
pose that the blessed angels could be compelled by
influences from plants and stones V

" ' It is no folly, dear maiden, but a great and
profound truth, which I will demonstrate to you
briefly. Every thing throughout the universe is
affected by two opposing forces, attraction or
sympathy, repulsion or antipathy. All things in
heaven as well as upon earth act on each other by
means of these two torces.

" ' And as all within, above, beneath, in the
heaven and on the earth, are types insensibly re-
peated of one grand archetype, so we find that the
sun himself is a magnet, and by his different polea
repels or attracts the planets, and among them our
earth ; in winter he repels her, and she moves
darkly and mournfully along ; in spring, he be-
gins to draw her toward him, and she comes joy-
fully, amidst songs of the holy angels, out of night
and darkness, like a bride in the arms of her be-
loved. And though no ear upon earth can mark
this song, yet the sympathies of each creature are
attracted and excited thereby, and man, beast, bird,
fish, tree, flower, grass, stones, all exhale forth
their subtlest, most spiritual, sweetest, life to blend
with the holy singers.

" ' O maiden, maiden, this is no folly ! Truly
might we say that each thing feels, for each thing
loves and hates. The animate as the inanimate,
the earthly as the heavenly, the visible as the in-
visible. For what is love but attraction, or sym-
pathy toward some object, whereby we desire to
blend with it 1 And what is hate but repulsion or
antipathy, whereby wo are forced to fly or recoil
from it.

" ' We, silly men, tear and tatter to pieces the
rude coarse materia of things, and think we know
the nature of an object, because, like a child with
a mirror, we break it to find the image. But the
life of the thing — the inner hidden mystic life of
sympathies — of this we know nothing, and yet wo
call ourselves wise !

1850.]

Sidoma.

405

" ' But what is the signification of this wide-
spread law of love and hate which rules the uni-
verse as far as we know ? Nothing else than the
dark signature of faith impressed upon every crea-
ture. For what the thing loves, that is its God : and
what the thing hates, that is its devil. So when
the upright and perfect soul ascends to God, the
source of all attraction, God descends to it in sym-
pathy, and blends with it, as Christ says, ' Whoso
loves me, and keeps my word, my Father will love
him, and we will come and take up our abode with
him.' But if the perverted soul descends to the
source of all repulsion, which is the devil, God
will turn away from him, and he will hate God
and love the devil, as our blessed Saviour says
(Matt, vi.), ' No man can sen'e two masters, he
will hate one and love the other ; ye can not ser\'e
God and the devil.' Such will be the law of the
universe until the desire of all creatures is fulfilled,
until the living word again descends from heaven,
and says, ' Let there be light !' and the new light
will fail upon the soul. Then will the old serpent
be cast out of the new heaven and the new earth.
Hate and repulsion will exist no longer, but as
Esaias saith, ' The wolf and the lamb, the leopard
and the kid, will lie down together, and the child
may play fearlessly upon the den of the adder.'
Hallelujah ! Then will creation be fi-ee ! then
will it pass from the bondage of corruption into
the lordly freedom of the children of God (Rom.
viii.), and

Sun,

moon, stars,

earth, angels, men,

beasts, plants, stones,

the living as the dead,

the great as the small,
the visible as the invisible,

will find at last

the source of all attraction

which they have ever ardently desired —

round which they will ever circle

day on day, night on night,

century on century, millennium on millennium,

lost in the infinite and eternal abyss

of all love —

GOD !'"*

" * Almost with the last words of this sketch,
the second part of Kosmos, by Alexander von
Humboldt, came to my hand. Evidently the great
author (who so well deserves immortality for his
contribution to science) views the world also
as a whole ; and wherever in ancient or modern
times, even a glimpse of this doctrine can be found,
he quotes it and brings it to light. But yet, in a
most incomprehensible manner, he has passed over
those very systems in which, above all others, this
idea finds ample room ; namely, the New-Platon-
ism of the ancients (the Theurgic Philosophy), and
the later Cabalistic, Alchymical, Mystic Philoso-
phy (White Magic), from which system the deduc-
tions of Magister Joel are borrowed : but above
all, we must name Flotinus, as the father of the

The invocation of the angel, is a mixture
of the ridiculous and the poetical. The Duke,
the IMagister, and Diliana, are in the knight's
hall. Old Jobit Bork, peeping through the
gimlet-hole he has made in the door. The
Magister repeats the conjuration three times :

" And, behold, at the last word, a white cloud
appeared at the north, that at every moment be-
came brighter and brighter, until a red pillar of
light, about an arm's thickness, shot forth from the
centre of it, and the most exquisite fragrance with
soft tones of music wore difiused over the whole
north end of the hall; then the cloud seemed to
rain down radiant flowers of hues and beauty such
as earth had never seen, after which a tremendous
sound, as if a clap of thunder, shook not only the
castle to its foundation, but seemed to shake
heaven and earth itself, and the cloud, parting iu
twain, disclosed the sun-angel in the centre.

" Yet the knight outside never heard this sound,
nor did old Kruger, the Duke's boot-cleaner, who
sat in the very next room reading the Bible ; he
merely thought that the clock had run down in
the corridor, and sent his wife out to see, and this
seems to me a very strange thing, but the knight,
through his gimlet-hole, saw plainly, that a chair,
which they had forgotten to take out of the way of
the angel at the north side, was utterly consumed
by his presence, and when he had passed, lay there
a heap of ashes.

" And the angel in trath appeared in the form
of a beautiful boy of twelve years old, and from
head to foot shone with a dazzling light. A blue
mantle, sown with silver stars was flung around
him, but so glittering to the eye that it seemed a
portion of the milky way he had torn from heaven,
as he passed along, and wrapped round his angelic
form ? On his feet, rosy as the first clouds of
morning, were bound gold sandals, and on his yel-
low hair a crown ; and thus surrounded by radiant
flowers, odors, and the soft tones of heavenly
music, he swept down in grace and glorious beauty
to earth."

But enough. We cannot recommend " Si-
donia" to our readers, for elevation of senti-
ment, or as producing a very pleasing or
healthful impression upon the mind. Yet
there is a good deal of lively picturing, and
there is at least no fear that the supernatural
views of the author will produce any worse
result than to provoke a smile.

new Platonists, to whom nature is throughout but
one vast unity, one divine totality, one power unit-
ed with one life. In later times we find that Al-
bertus Magnus, Cornelius Agrippa, and Theophras-
tus Paracelsus, held the same view. The latter
uses the above word " attraction" in the sense of
sympathy. And the systems of these philosophers,
which are in many places full of profound tniths,
are based upon this idea."

406

Works of J. Fenimoi'e Cooper.

[April,

THE WORKS OF J. FENIMORE COOPER.*

Von Dencken, the profound and in-
genious philosopher, from whose great
work, the " Inquiry into the sources of the
Omne Scibile^^^ we lately translated a few
paragraphs, has some fm'ther observations
in the same connection, fvide the chapter,
'' Z>e Vita Humana J which may serve,
like the others, in place of the usual meta-
physical preface to a literary review.
Having ourselves the same horror of that
obscurity called " range of thought," of
which reviewers in general are accused in
the preface to the Pioneers, especially
when we ourselves are called upon to exer-
cise it, we shall be delighted if we can sat-
isfy the expectations of readers, in this
particular, with the speculations of the
learned Dutchman. Still, we would not
venture to make use of him, had not much
observation lona; ago assured us that his
labors are but little known in this quarter,
and may interest, therefore, as much by
then- novelty as then- truth.

" Not only," continues the philosopher,
" does this constant equalization of vital
power, of which I have treated, take place
between the dead and the living, but it is con-
stantly going on, from day to day and hour to
hour, among all souls which come in contact.
Certain constituent elements, of every one's
life have affinities which attract similar ele-
ments in others — and vice versa. There is no
individual with whom another can become
acquainted without imparting or receiving, or
both imparting and receiving, some peculiar
vigor. Thus we often see the strongest friend-
ships among opposites; a rash temper derives
prudence from contact with a timid one, while
the timid acquires a measure of resolution from
the over-boldness of the other. How beauti-
fully the reflective and the active harmonize
and blend together ! The first gains the needed

repose of spirit, while the latter is supplied
with new motives. Thus might be instanced
numberless combinations which would at
once be acknowledged as common and univer-
sal ; indeed, were it possible, there is proba-
bly no development of soul-vigor in one in-
dividual without its counterpart somewhere
in others.

'■' This constant influence or interchange of
vitality which goes on among all mankind
who come in contact, belongs to us as mem-
bers of a great family. In this aspect, so far,
that is, as regards vitality^ we have a com-
mon soul ; we are so far gregarious — a many
headed monster — having one life running
through us all.

" if there be any to whom this view is new
and strange, let him consider his own life and
see how imperceptibly the product of the com-
mon vitality — law — in all its forms, munici-
pal and social, winds its arms around him, as
he advances in years. Struggle and murmur
as he may, and as most of us do, in one re-
spect or another, there is no escaping this in-
exorable, all-pervading shaper of destinies.
In whatever regard, and from whatever cause,
we have disobeyed it, there is no escaping the
penalty. If we have yielded to envy, hatred,
or uncharitableness, the lurking self-reproach
will hang about us forever. If we have been
criminal against others, however fortunate in
concealing it, we feel a difference between us
and honest men. If against ourselves, what
would we not do to avoid the laws of habit —
misery of constrained intemperance, for exam-
ple, or that most awful consequence of a dis-
regard for the laws of life, a licentious old age.
"On the other hand, what a source of
health and peace to the spirit it is to find our-
selves going on in harmony with law, feeling
ourselves co-workers with the general vitality
of the race ! Even where by reason of igno-
rance or constitution, we have failed in a
thousand respects, it is a consolation to have
remained steadfast in one. Thus the hypo-
crite in religion hugs himself upon integrity in

*The Works of J. Fenimore Cooper Revised, Corrected, and Illustrated, with a new Introduction,
Notes, &c. G. P. Putnam.

Cooper's Novels. A New Uniform Edition, La 32 Volumes. Stringer & Townsend.

1850.]

Works of J. Fenimore Cooper.

407

business ; the mature gamester prides himself
upon having done his duty to his family ; the
self-destroyer sustains his ruined body with
the thought that he has never tempted others,
and thus all of us find something to lean upon
till the body fails to come up to the require-
ments of the lowest law of life, and death
comes to bear us away."

After thus enlarging the limits of his
theory of vitality, the subtle Dutchman
proceeds to apply it to several conditions
of life, and as the vital changes are observ-
ed more clearly among individuals brought
in contact with large numbers of others,
he takes his examples from regal, military,
civil, and other prominent departments.
Among others, he considers, in one chap-
ter, the artist life, including all vocations
in which men address the world, through
the sense of beauty. We translate the
few paragraphs applicable to our purpose :

"We have seen how, in the civil depart-
ments, though there may be unjust magis-
trates, and those who, through error, give er-
roneous decisions, yet the silent influences of
life, which go to keep up the great vital equi-
librium, gradually shake oft the false, and
retain only that which is true — that which
was discovered to be true by the strong per-
ceptions of vigorous and truth-loving spirits.
So it is in the Fine Arts, and in the pursuits
of literature and science. All that is mortal
falls oft' and dies ; but the truly vital lives
forever. And this happens as well in indvid-
ual instances, and during short periods, as
universally during the lapse of centuries.
There are no regular periods to its ojieration ;
if the soul of the universe has its throbs, they
are too slow for our poor faculties of discern-
ment. Sometimes the vigor of one man shall
be so overwhelming that he will awe the hearts
of nations through his life ; and it will be not
till long after he has gone otf the stage that
his true strength can be estimated — and then
it may be seen that though he made a great
noise in his time, and brought much to pass,
yet there was little of him beyond the name
that will return to the general stream of life.
He did much, but he saw, heard, or felt no
more, — less, perhaps, while here, — than many
others, who would have left a stronger resi-
duum^ had their career been as public as his.
Such instances have been cited in the chapter
on military heroes.

" Sometimes the vital aura diffuses itself
more quickly, and the world feels it like
an electric touch. Poets and musicians have
ere now wakened the common life to a new
sense of gladness and beauty, by a single
song. And so, in their several ways, have

painters, and sculptors, and story-tellers. In
deed, it is in all these arts that the true
vigor, brought to bear, soonest recombines
and returns to repose in the general breast of
humanity. Hence, in all of them, how rarely
does any one achieve great distinction ! How
hard, also, it is to sustain, for any length of
time, a position once gained ! For, to do it,
one must labor, so soon does the virtue go
out from him, against his very self, in order
to preserve the relation that was between him
and other men at the outset. Yet there are
those w^ho are able to accomplish this ; who
can go on from day to day, and year to year,
imparting their power of vision, kindling their
glow of spirit, their fire of emotion, and
fancy's ardor, in the hearts of the world at
large.

" That which they would have done at first
they still sometimes desire to do, though their
success in what was incidental might have
taught them to expend their energies upon
that. They may see the sparks flying in one
direction, while they will continue to ham-
mer in another ; such may be their weakness.
They may deem it less desirable to impart
than to carry out a cherished plan ; or they
may be so constituted, so incongruously put
together, that the crystal is only perfect on one
side. How seldom do men see themselves as
others see them ! How often they go on, pri-
ding themselves on doing what they do ill, or
not at all, and neglecting that which they do
well — like a good violinist in one of our vil-
lage bands, who should persist in playing the
trombone, though it gave his hearers the head-
ache to hear him, and himself the consump-
tion to blow it !

" It is a wonder often to see artists and
writers Avho have been successful, who can-
not but feel that the peculiar vitality of their
spirits has been taken up by its numerous
afiinities into the general bosom of life — who
may see their works translated, or copied and
spread among all civilized nations, and imi-
tated by thousands, forming a new school of
excellence in their department, whatever it may
be — who may thus perceive the reflection, as
it were, of their own image upon the world's
mirror — it is a Avonder that they do not feel a
secret law impelling them to be true to their
organization. But, then, habit makes us all
powerless. We daily unlearn ourselves too
late to avail us anything. Law, the law of
life, overhangs us ; it surrounds and environs
us ; but we can never stop. Once fairly in
the current, we are dashed onward ; we may
founder these frail barks any moment we
please, but we cannot control them; with our
best efforts we can only keep keep them in the
channel, and have others to follow, if they
will, — whither, oh whither 1"

" Whither, indeed," some readers will be

408

Works of J. Fenimore Cooper.

[April

ready to exclaim, as they reach the philoso-
pher's concluding sentence, "out of his
depth we fear." But it is fortunately not
necessary to follow him any further at pre-
sent. The particular relevance of what we
have already quoted may not be very ob-
vious. But that does not much signify.
It is customary for reviews to have meta-
physical beginnings, for what reason we
know not, unless it be to put the reader
into a fitting frame of mind to attend to
criticism ; or it may be to serve for a base
line to the survey of an author ; or as a
largo introduction to a principal movement
in music — which sometimes appears to be
used to weary the ear and make it glad to
listen to anything rather than that to which
it has been compelled to hear. We have,
at all events, complied with the form in
giving an extract from Von Dencken,

If his theory respecting vitality be ad-
mitted, as applied to writers. Cooper may
felicitate himself on having imparted life
to as wide a circle of his cotemporaries as
almost any author living. The best of his
novels have been long popular in both hem-
ispheres, and as a writer of sea-tales, he
has been the father of a numerous progeny
of imitators. We confess to have antici-
pated and enjoyed, so far as one can enjoy
anything, under the miserable apprehen-
sion of having to write about it, the oppor-
tunity of renewing our early acquaintance
with many of his well-known personages.
We have derived no little mental refresh-
ment from breathing again the salt breezes
of the German Ocean, and the fine snowy
atmosphere of Otsego ; we have been glad
to meet again our old friend Leatherstock-
ing, to see his silent laugh, and hear the
sharp crack of his rifle ; all his adventures
as Hawkeye, Natty Bumppo, and the Trap-
per, we have skimmed over again, with,
for aught we can see, undiminished enjoy-
ment. There are also many others of
these personages, in another walk of life,
Long Tom Cofl&n and his descendants, some
of whom we have followed through their
perils once more w^ith the same anxiety
and the same admiration of their heroism
we had in days past weeping for. With
many of these people we first became fa-
miliar under peculiar circumstances — by
stealth, and as we are taught to believe, at
peril of our soul's salvation ; we have per-
sisted in knowing them, and others like

them, thus far in life, and, sinner that we
are, yet trust we are not utterly cast away.
When we consider how much we owe to
them, what we might possibly have become
had we never known them, we are almost
a convert to Von Dencken, and feel under
a personal obligation to their author, for
enabling us to keep our eyes open to the
beauty of nature and nature's heroes, in
spite of ignorance and superstition.

None of our writers has given more vivid
pictures of American scenery than Cooper.
Whether the scene be winter or summer,
in forest or clearing, his landscapes are un-
mistakably drawings from nature. The
opening of the Pioneers, and several scenes
from the same novel, are well known ex-
amples. We will quote one of them :

A WINTER MORNING.

The side of the mountain, on which our
travellers were journeying, though not abso-
lutely perpendicular, was yet so steep as to
render great care necessary in descending the
rude and narrow path, which, in that early
day, wound along the precipices. The negro
reined in his impatient steeds, and time was
given to Elizabeth to dwell on a scene which
was so rapidly altering under the hands of
man, that it only resembled, in its outlines,
the picture she had often studied, with delight,
in her childhood. On the right, and stretch-
ing for several miles to the north, lay a nar-
row plain buried among mountains, which,
falling occasionally, jutted in long low points,
that were covered with tall trees, into the val-
ley ; and then again for miles, stretched their
lofty brows perpendicularly along its margin,
nourishing in the crags that formed their sides,
pines and hemlocks thinly interspersed with
chestnut and beech, which grew in lines near-
ly parallel to the mountains themselves. The
dark foliage of the evergreens was brilliantly
contrasted by the glittering whiteness of the
plain, which exhibited, over the tops of the
trees, and through the vistas formed by the
advancing points of the hills, a single sheet of
unspotted snow, relieved occasionally by a
few small dark objects that were discovered,
as they were passing directly beneath the feet
of the travellers, to be sleighs moving in vari-
ous directions. On the western border of the
plain, the mountains, though equally high,
were less precipitous, and as they receded,
opened into irregular valleys and glens, and
were formed into terraces, and hollows that
admitted of cultivation. Although the ever-
greens still held dominion over many of the
hills that rose on this side of the valley, yet
the undulating outh'nes of the distant moun-
tains covered with forests of beech and maple,

1850.]

Works of J. Fenimore Cooper.

409

gave a relief to the eye, and the promise of a
kinder soil. Occasionally spots of white were
discoverable amidst the forests of the opposite
hills, that announced, by the smoke which
curled over the tops of the trees, the habitations
of man, and the commencement of agriculture.
These spots were sometimes, by the aid of
united labor, enlarged into what were called
settlements; but more frequently were small
and insulated, though so rajtid were the chan-
ges, and so persevering the labors of those who
had cast their fortunes on the success of the
enterprise, that it was not difficult for the im-
agination of Elizabeth to conceive they were
enlarging under her eye, while she was gazing
in mute wonder, at the alterations that a few
short years had made in the aspect of the
country. The points on the western side of
the plain were both larger and more numerous
than those on its eastern, and one in particu-
lar thrust itself forward in such a manner as
to form beautifully curved bays of snow on
either side. On its extreme end a mighty oak
stretched forward, as if to overshadow, with
its branches, a spot which its roots were forbid-
den to enter. It had released itself from the
thraldom, that a growth of centuries had im-
posed on the branches of the surrounding for-
est-trees, and threw its gnarled and fanta.stic
arms abroad, in all the wildness of unrestrain-
ed liberty. A dark spot of a few acres in ex-
tent at the southern extremity of this beauti-
ful flat, and immediately under the feet of our
travellers, alone showed, by its rippling sur-
face, and the vapors which e.\ haled fiom it,
that what at first might seem a plain, was one
of the mountain lakes, lucked in the frosts of
winter. A narrow current rushed impetuous-
ly from its bosom at the open place we have
mentioned, and might be traced for a few
miles as it Avound its way towards the south,
through the real valley, by its borders of hem-
lock and pine, and by the vapor which arose
from its warmer surface into the chill atmos-
phere of the hills."'

The language is diflfuse, and the senten-
ces cold and artificial in construction ; but
the flow of them is sustained, and the ima-
ges chosen to present the landscape are
beautifully picturesque. The scene is not
flashed upon the apprehension in a poetic
manner, by exciting a corresponding tone
of feeling ; it is elaborately drav^n J'rom the
eye^ as a painter would sketch it.

In his dcsciiptions of the changes of the
ocean, Cooper has more emotion, and his
language seems to rise and swell with the
grandeur of bis subjects. The Pilot has
many fine examples of this, and they abound
in all his later sea stories. The following
is from Homeward Bound :

'■The awaking of the winds on the ocean is
frequently attended with signs and portents as
sublime as any the fancy can conceive. On
the present occasion, the breeze that had pre-
vailed so steadily for a week was succeeded
by light baffling pufis, as if, conscious of the
mighty powers ^of the air that were assem-
bling in their strength, the inferior blasts were
hurrying to and fro for a refuge. The clouds,
too, were whirling about in uncertain eddies,
many of the heaviest and darkest descending
so low along the horizon, that they had an
appearance of settling on the waters in quest
of repose. But the waters themselves were
unnaturally agitated. The billows, no longer
following each other in regular waves, were
careering upwards, like fiery coursers sudden-
ly checked in their mad career. The usual or-
der of the eternally unquiet ocean was lost in
a species of chaotic tossings of the elements,
the seas heaving themselves upward, without
order, and^ frequently without visible cause.
This was the re-action of the currents, and of
the influence of breezes still older than the
last. Not the least fearful symptom of the
hour was the terrific calmness of the air amd
such a scene of menacing wildness. f^ven the
ship came into the picture to aid the impres-
sion of intense expectation ; for with her can-
vas reduced, she, too, seemed to have lost that
instinct which had so lately guided her along
the trackless waste, and was "wallowing,"
nearly helpless, among the confused waters.
Still she was a beautiful and a grand object,
perhaps more so at that moment than at any
other ;. for her vast and naked spars, her well
supported masts, and all the ingenious and
complicated hamper of the machine, gave her
a resemblance to some sinewy and gigantic
gladiator, pacing the arena, in waiting for the
conflict that was at hand."

It appears that Cooper's style, in his la
ter novels has much improved in fluency; and
even in these brief extracts, one may trace
a difference. He was never a graceful or
an elegant writer ; no style can be imagin-
ed more unsuited to the purposes of enter-
taining narrative than that of some of his
earlier novels. The opening of the Red
Rover, if our memory serve, is particularly
forced and crude in language as well as in
conception. It is by the power of vision,
the collected energy of his fancy, acting in
spite of his style, that his descriptions are
so clear and fascinating.

What is true of his style, will to a great
extent, apply to the construction of his no-
vels. His earlier plots are mostly elabor-
ately improbable, and the scenes are not
shifted with ease, yet the minor effects and

410

Works of J. Fenimore Cooper,

[April,

episodes are arranged witli singular power.
Take for examples, Mr. Gray's piloting
the ship through the reefs, and all those
scenes where Leatherstocking displays his
skill with the rifle, such as the shooting of
the turkey or panther. The latter inci-
dent in particular is finely wrought, and the
sudden revulsion the reader experiences
from extreme anxiety to perfect confidence
in the skill of the old hunter, where the
narrative is interrupted —

'^ Hist ! Hist !" said a low voice — '• stoop
lower, gal, your bonnet hiJes the creater's
head."

— ^has probably produced its efiect upon
nearly as many pairs of eyes as the story
has had readers. Yet the Pioneers cannot
be considered to be constructed or carried
through in such a manner that the reader's
interest is much interested in the main
story. Leatherstocking is the true story ;
we are more interested in him and sadden-
ed by his departure, than gratified by the
marriage of the lovers. The like is true
of all the tales where he is introduced, and
also of the sea stories, where we have bim
in his essentials, with only a " sea change."
He appears, in all the novels of Cooper
in one shape or another, the simple-heart-
ed, old (or sometimes young) man, with a
preternatural skill, either as a huntsman
or sailor, and a luck that brings him scot
free out of every danger. It would only
occupy space to enumerate his different
phases ; sufficient that we all know and es-
teem— almost reverence him. Could he
be found in real life he would be a safer
guide than twenty Kit Carsons in an over-
land journey to San Francisco ; or, if we
mio'ht have him in his salt phase, he should
be shipped for the expedition in search of
Sir John Franklin. He is Cooper's great
original character.

Besides him, and his variations, we get
very little of real character-drawing. There
arc points of difference insisted on, it is true,
among Cooper's gentlemen, but we fail to
distinguish clearly. There are old and
young, Irish, French, negro, and the like,
the usual stock-in-trade of novelists ; these
we separate as we read, by their names,
and because we have a desire to see how
they will get out of their difficulties ; but
the gentlemen are so crudely put together

that the memory scarcely retains their in-
dividual traits.

What there is of individuality among
them is so singularly as well as stiffly
drawn, as to make them a race by them-
selves. They often exhibit extraordinary
combinations of qualities, are at once chiv-
alrous and calculating, cool and impatient,
generous and close. Always on their good
behaviour, they are yet very bad mannered.
Their dialogue is constrained and unlike
nature, and their intercourse generally,
leaves an impression with the reader of
having been in the society of would-be-
genteel people.

The ladies also, in Cooper, or " females,"
as he delicately calls them, are less satisfac-
tory even, than the gentlemen. They do
not express the thoughts or use the lan-
guage of ladies. Often their dialogue is
ludicrously incongruous with the character
and situation. For example :

" Elizabeth and her friend had not yet lost
their senses in sleep, when the hovvliagsof the
norlh-west wind were heaid around the build-
dings, and brought with them that exquisite
sense of comfort, that is ever excited under
such circumstances, in an apartment where the
fire has not yet ceased to glimmer ; and cur-
tains, and shutters, and feathers, unite to pre-
serve the desired temperature in the air.
Once, just as her eyes had opened, apparently
in the last stage of drowsiness, the roaring
winds brought with them a long and plaintive
howl, that seemed too wild for a dog, and yet
strongly resembled the cries of that faithful
animal when night awakens his vigilance, and
gives sweetness and solemnity to his alarms.
The form of Louisa Grant instinctively pressed
nearer to that of the young heiress, who, find-
ing her companion was yet awake, said, in a
low tone, as if afraid to break a charm with
her voice —

" ' Those distant cries are plaintive, and even
beautiful. Can they be hounds from the Imt
of Leather-stocking V

" ' They are wolves, who have ventured fiom
the mountain, on the lake,'" whispered Louisa,
" ' and who are only kept from the village by
the lights. One night since we have been
here, hunger drove them to our very doors.
Oil! what a dreadful night it was! But the
riches of Judge Temple have given him too
many safeguards, to leave room for fear in this
house.'

" ' The enterprise of Judge Temple is taming
the very forests !' exclaimed Elizabeth, proud-
ly, throwing off the covering and partly rising
in the bed. 'How rapidly is civilization
treading on the footsteps of nature !'

1850.]

Worhs of J. Fenimore Cooper.

411

The general level of the dialogue among
the principal characters in Cooper is in
what, in our school days, was denominated
the " high-flown" style. They seem to be
trying how fine they can talk. We have
heard something like it in real life. We
have heard boys and girls who had been
educated to such a degree that their com-
mon conversation was of this rarefied des-
cription ; we have heard some such form of
speech even from the lips of men and wo-
men— in remote villages, whose society is,
notwithstanding all that is said of the world
of fashion, the most artificial of any. But
nothing like it was ever used in the inter-
course of well-bred people.

It is another evidence, how easily our
understandings are pacified when the fancy
is interested, that we can read stories with
pleasure where the dialogue is so undramat-
ic. But it is only where the interest is
independent of the characters that we can
do it. Wherever it is attempted to be ex-
cited through them, Cooper always fads.
His novels of society, such as " Home as
Found," are unreadable, not on account of
their satire, but because they have neither
dramatic interest nor vrai-semblance. The
characters are so coarsely done as to be mere
caricatures, and they converse not to carry
on the story but to bring out opinions.

The first principle in elaborating a dra-
matic construction, of whatever description,
whether re-related in narrative or repre-
sented in a dialogue, or both, is action.
The dramatist or novelist must keep ever
in his mind, if he would have readers, the
stereotyped order of the London Policemen
" Move on !" The stage must never wait.
Hence, there must, in plays, be always an
underplot to occupy it while the main scene
has time to be changed ; and this must
have a separate and subordinate interest.
In the novel a similar construction, though
not indispensable , prolongs and gives variety .
It is worth whUe to observe how, in Shaks-
peare, the characters are brought out by the
necessity, as it were, of the piece ; all their
reflections and perplexities grow out of, or
have an immediate relation to that. The
soliloquies in Hamlet have an immediate
bearing upon the stoiy. On the stage a
mere neat plot, unravelled in the fewest
possible words, will make an after-piece
popular ; while in writing, all those novels
which are written with an obvious sidepur-

VOL. V. NO. IV. NEW SERIES.

pose never please. The public do not like
doctrine, either religious, politic, economic,
or social, administered in the form of sugar-
coated pills. Even Sue and Sands, and
their kindred demoralizers, are obliged to
do something more than make then: char-
acters discuss vice with one another.

With regard to the satire attempted in
some of Cooper's novels of society, it is
too extravagant and indiscriminate to be
effective. The author endeavors to hit
every where ; nothing is too small game
for him, and he never graduates his blows
by the magnitude of the object, so that he
affects the reader like a man out of tem-
per, who is merely airing his opinions,
without coherence or consistency. That
any individuals or any classes should ever
have been aggrieved by such writing, sup~
poses an insensibility to the ludicrous as
well as a weak irritabihty. To us, it is, in
general, purely heavy reading. Here and
there are passages which excite a smile,
but we remember no instance at which we
can fancy any one to take serious offence.
Although it has been our fortune to be
more or less connected for many years with
the daily press, we do not think it a very
strong proof of equanimity that we can
relish the following as one of Cooper's
good things: —

'' Fortunately, there was yet no newspaper,
a species of hixury, which," like the gallows,
comes in only as society advances to the cor-
rupt condition: or which, if it happen to pre-
cede it a little, is very certain soon to conduct
it there. If every institution became no more
than what it was designed to be, by those who
originally framed it, the state of man on earth
would be very different from what it is. The
unchecked means of publicity, out of all ques-
tion, are indispensable to the circulation of
truths ; and it is equally certain that the un-
restrained means of publicity are equally fa-
vorable to the circulation of lies. If we can-
not get along safely without the possession of
one of these advantages, neither can we get
along very safely while existing under the
daily, hourly, increasing influence of the other
— call it what you will. If truth is all im-
portant, in one sense, falsehood is all-impor-
tant too, in a contrary sense.

" Had there been a newspaper at the Crater,
under the control of some philosopher, who
had neither native talent, nor its substitute
education, but who had been struck out of a
l)rinters devil by the rap of a composing-
stick, as Minerva is reported to have been
27

412

Works of J. Fenimore Cooper.

[April,

struck, full-grown, out of Jupiter's head by
the hammer of Vulcan, it is probable that the
•wiseacre might have discovered that it was an
inexcusable interference with the rights of the
colonists, to enact that no one should carry
letters for hire, but those connected with the
regular post-office." — Crater-, vol. ii.

There is a heartiness about this, which
would have pleased Dr. Johnson, who
liked "a good hater."

The savage pleasantry of the following
is hardly less excellent : — ' , , '-

"These exercises commenced with instru-
mental music, certainly the weakest side of
American civilization. That of the occasion
of which we write, had three essential faults,
all of which are sufficiently general to be
termed characteristic, in a national point of
view. In the first place, the instruments
themselves were bad ; in the next place, they
were assorted without any regard to harmony ;
and, in the last place, their owners did not
know how to use them. As in certain Amer-
ican cities— \\i& word is well applied here—
she is esteemed the greatest belie who can
contrive to utter her nursery sentiments in the
loudest voice, so in Templeton, was he con-
sidered the ablest musician who could give the
greatest eclat to a false note. In a word,
clamor was the one thing needful, and as re-
gards time, that great regulator of all harmo-
nies, Paul Powis whispered to the captain that
the air they had just been listening to, resem-
bled what the sai'lors call a ' round robin ;' or
a particular mode of singing complaints prac-
tised by seamen, in which the nicest observer
cannot tell which is the beginning, or which
the end.

"Of the oration it is scarcely necessary to
say much, for if human nature is the same in
all ages, and under all circumstances, so is a
fourth of July oration. There were the usual
allusions to Greece and Rome, between the re-
publics of which and that of this country
there exists some such aflinity as is to be found
between ahorse-chestnut and a chestnut-horse ;
or that of mere words; and a long catalogue
of national glories that might very well have
sufficed for all the republics, both of antiquity
and of our own time. But when the orator
came to speak of the American character, and
particularly of the intelligence of the nation,
he was most felicitous, and made the largest
investments in popularity. According to his
account of the matter, no other people possess-
ed a tithe of the knowledge, or a hundredth
part of the honesty and virtue of the very
community he was addressing; and after
labouring" for ten minutes to convmce his
hearers that they already knew every thing, he
wasted several more in trying to persuade

them to undertake further acquisitions of the
same nature."

" American civilization " can bear this,
one would suppose, without outlawing Mr.
Cooper. But, not content with ridiculing
our country music and oratory, the shock-
ing man thus permits one of his characters
to misrepresent our architecture. The
reader will observe the characteristic ease
of the dialogue :

" ^ I do not mean that the public has a legal
right to control the tastes of the citizen," he
said, "but in a republican government, you
undoubtedly understand, Miss Eve, it will rule
in all things."

" I can understand that one would wish to
see his neighbour use good taste, as it helps
to embellish a country ; but the man who
should consult the whole neighborhood before
he built, would be very apt to cause a com-
plicated house to be erected, if he paid much
respect to the diffiirent opinions he received ;
or, what is quite as likely, apt to have no
house at all.'

" ' I think you are mistaken. Miss Effing-
ham, for the public sentiment, just now, runs
almost exclusively and popularly into the
Grecian school. We build little besides tem-
ples for our churches, our banks, our taverns,
our court-houses, and our dwellings. A friend
of mine has just built a brewery on the model
of the Temple of the VVinds."

'' ' Had it been a mill, one might understand
the conceit,' said Eve, who now began to per-
ceive that her visiter had some latent humor,
though he produced it in a manner to induce
one to think him any thing but a droll. 'The
mountains must be doubly beautiful, if they
are decorated in the way you mention. I sin-
cerely hope, Grace, that I shall find the hills
as pleasant as they now exist in my recollec-
tion !' "

However true Mr. Bragg's statement
might have been when " Home as Found"
was written, it is certain that now there
seems to be a decided preference for the
Gothic.

In the following, the identity of meaning
in the name of the street of which mention
is made, with that of ' Broadway ' leads us
to infer that something is intended which
ought to excite our ire as New Yorkers.
Btit it does'nt. We have actually heard
something very like it :

" Here the wailings of Mr. Wriggle were
interrupted by the wailings of Count Poke de
Stunnin'tuii. The latter, by gazing in admira-
tion at the speaker, had inadvertently struck

1850.]

Worlds of J. Fenimore Cooper. ,

413

his toe against one of the forty-three thousand
seven hundred and sixty inequalities of the
pavement, (for every thin <^ in Leaplow is ex-
actly equal, except the streets and highways.)
and fallen forward on his nose. I have al-
ready had occasion to allude to the sealers
readiness in using opprobrious epithets. This
contrctems happened in the principal street of
Bivouac, or in what is called the ^Vide-path,
an avenue of more than a league in extent ;
but, notwithstanding its great length, Noah
took it up at one end and abused it all the way
to the other, with a preci-sion, tidelity, rapidity
and point, that excited general admiration.
'It was the dirtiest, worst paved, meanest,
vile street he had ever seen, and if they had it
at Stunnin'tun, instead of using it as a street
at all, they would fence it up at each end, and
turn it into a hog-lot.' Here Brigadier Down-
right betrayed unequivocal signs of alarm.
Drawing us aside, he vehemently demanded
of the Captain, if he were mad, to berate in
this unheard-of manner, the touchstone of
Bivouac sentiment, nationality, taste and ele-
gance ! This street was never spoken of ex-
cept by the use of superlatives ; a usage, by
the way, that Noah himself had by no means
neglected. It was commonly thought to be
the longest and the shortest, the widest and
the narrowest, the best built and the worst
built avenue in the universe. ' Whatever you
say or do,' he continued, ' whatever you think
or believe, never deny the superlatives of the
Wide-path. If asked if you ever saw a street
so crowded, although there be room to wheel a
regiment, swear it is stifling ; if required to
name another promenade so free from inter-
ruption, protest by your soul, that the place is
a desert!' "

It has long been a desideratum with a
portion of the city press to ascertain where
there can be found a person who has read
the volume from which the above is taken.
The questions respecting the explosion of
nitre, who committed the assault on Mr.
William Patterson, where is the individual
so regardless of conventional propriety, as
to use a cigar in an omnibus, have hardly
been more frequently asked than, " who
has read the Monikins .'" We confess that
before beginning this present wi'iting we
did intend to set this question at rest for-
ever by reading the work ourself, and
publishing the fact to the world. But
there are limits to human resolution ; we
can only say with truth that we have
skimmed it, or better, perhaps, we have
looked into it.

That the book has never been read, is
not surprising. The author, apparently,

finding his original purpose extremely dull
in execution, abandons it for one which,
even if wrought out in his most picturesque
manner, would be uninviting, and which, as
it is, is positively offensive. The idea of
taking us to a nation of monkeys, with all
that it involves, is of necessity coarse. But
here it is carried out with a coarseness ex-
ceeding Swift's Honnyhyms, since monk-
eys, are not imaginary creatures, and the
fancy refuses to consider them such ; and
it is not redeemed by Gulliver's wit, elo-
quence, and point. It has, in fact, no
point ; one knows not what is intended to
be satirized, or where the satire is to stop ;
it has no substratum of sense, like Rabel-
lais, nor does it, like him, atone for extra-
vagance and absurdity, by carrying them
to .such an extreme, as to make us lauo-h.
Yet there is no reason why Americans
should be any more offended with it than
Englishmen ; the author bestows his te-
diousness equally on both. Except a few
descriptive passages, the work, on the
whole, is only a deplorable evidence
what may be produced by a powerful
fancy, acting under the influences of ill-
temper, misjudgment, and unrefined taste.

Of the other later novels, for which
Cooper has been so much berated, Home-
ward Bound is very readable, notwithstand-
ing its dull discussions, as a sea story. In
writing it, the author states in his preface,
he so far yielded to the advice of his friends,
who wished for " more ship," that he
ended nearly where he meant to have be-
gan. It were to be wished for his own
fame, that he had continued to follow the
same advice in Home as Found, or never
written the book at all. For it is a little
less dull than the Monikins. Of the two
together it may be predicted that any
reader who could get through one, might
accomplish the other ; but not otherwise.
After the success we have had, we cannot
recommend any of our readers to attempt
either.

At the same time, these works are the
offspring of no common vigor of intellect,
and they, of course, contain, scattered
through them, much that is suggestive,
and strangely expressed. There is nothing
in them, except their dullness, that need
frighten the nerves of readers. Mr.
Cooper has been accused of being un-
American in them — aristocratic — and per-

414

Woi'Jcs of J. Fenimore Cooper.

[April,

sonallj vain, giving what he intended to
be a portrait of himself in the hero. But
we perceive nothing of this. To us the
peculiar acerbity he manifests is amusing.
Very often his sharp sayings have a spice
of truth in them ; and, surely, since Cali-
fornia has come in, the country is extensive
enough to bear a few quips — especially
when they come from one who has done so
much for her literature ! As to his aristo-
cratic tendencies, one cannot perceive
clearly that Cooper has a distinct bias that
way. He appears a strange compound of
opinions — a piece of conglomerate contain-
ing rocks of several eras, igneous and
other, united by a tenacious Cooj^er ce-
ment, harder than any of them. His que-
rulousness and roughness of speech exhibit
anything but the quiet reserve of a man,
who feels himself assured of his title to a
high social position ; and if any reader
would collate him carefully, we suspect as
much might be found which would tend to
make him '' one of the people," as an
" aristocrat." He evidently bears in mind
that he writes for an English as well as an
American audience ; yet, for aught we
can discern, his fellow-citizens fare no
worse at his hands than Her Majesty's
subjects. Nor can we fancy that in either
of the Effinghams, in these volumes, he
intended to give a portrait of himself. The
Travelling Bachelor, however, and one or
two others, we have not read.

In his more recent novels, while he has
not abandoned the idea of making his wri-
tings the vehicle of opinions, he has learn-
ed the necessity of first rendering them
interesting. He has been more careful to
adhere to his true department of pictur-
esque narrative. His opinions, also, are
more woven into the texture of the story,
and more clearly digested. Occasionally
we have touches of his peculiar acidity ;
but, generally, his satire is more just, and
his views more broad and temperate.

As a fluent narrative of Crusoe-like
adventures, exhibiting a fertility of inven-
tion almost equal to De Foe's, and con-
taining some of the most beautiful sea-
scenes we have ever read, with some notions
about popular government, which it will
do no one any harm to skip, if they do not
choose to read them, and now and then a tart
sentence, (like the, one we have quoted
about the newspapers,) which they may

smile at, or assent to, as they please
— the "Crater; or, Vulcan's Peak — a
Tale of the Pacific," will be found not un-
worthy to stand beside its author's most
popular works. For a similar picturesque-
ness, fertility of invention, and some mar-
vellous plays of seamanship, along with a
little religious conversation, which novel-
readers generally skip of course, " The
Sea Lions ; or, the Lost Sealers," is ano-
ther of his best stories.

Either of these will be found capital
talcs for young readers. They breathe the
heartiness of a strong, cheerful, active tem-
perament, are full of ingenious modes of
getting over difficulties, by application,
have that fresh, old-fashioned, unsenti-
mental downrightness, which we call
" plain, practical good sense" — in short, if
we may recur to the theory of the great
Von Dencken, they impart largely of the
true, manly vitality.

Did our limits permit, we should be glad
to prove the justness of our appreciation
of them by copious extracts from each ; it is
not possible to judge of the merit of full,
easy narrative writing from a few short
paragraphs. The following scenes from
the Sea Lions may give some idea of the
general excellence of the descriptive pas-
sages :

CAPE HORN.

" Taking StimsonAvith him, to carry a glass,
and armed with an old lance as a pike-pole,
to aid his etibrts, Roswell Gardiner now com-
menced the ascent of the pyramid already men-
tioned. It was ragged, and offered a thous-
and obstacles, but none that vigor and resolu-
tion could not overcome. After a few minutes
of violent exertion, and by helping each other
in difficult places, both Roswell and Stimson
succeeded in placing themselves on the summit
of the elevation, which was an irregular peak.
The height was considerable, and gave an ex-
tended view of the adjacent islaniis, as well
as of the gloomy and menacing ocean to
the southward. The earth, prol)ably, does
not contain a more remarkable sentinel than
this pyramid on which our hero had now taken
his station. There it stood, actually, the Ulti-
ma Thule of this vast continent, or, what
was much the same, so closely united to it
as to seem a part of our own moiety of the
globe, looking out on the broad expanse of
waters. The eye saw, to the right, the Paci-
fic; in front was the Southern, or Antarctic
Ocean ; and to the left was the great Atlantic.
For several minutes, both Roswell and Stephen
sat mute, gazing on this grand spectacle. By

1850.]

Works of J. Fenimore Cooper,

415

turning their faces north, they heheld the high
lands of Terra del Fuego, of which many of
the highest peaks were covered with snow.
The pyramid on which they were, was no long-
er white with the congealed rain, but stern
and imposing, in its native brown. The out-
lines of all the rocks, and the shores of the dif-
ferent islands had an appearance of volcanic
origin, though the rocks themselves told a
somewhat different story. The last was prin-
cipally of trap formation. Cape pigeons,
gulls, petrels, and albatross were wheeling
about in the air, while the rollers that still
came in on this noble sea-wall were really
terrific. Distant thunder wants the hollow,
bellowing sound that these waves made when
brought in contact with the shores. Roswell
fancied that it was like a groan of the mighty
Pacific, at finding its progress suddenly check-
ed. The spray continued to fly, and, much of
the time, the air below his elevated seat was
filled with vapor."'

ENTERING THE ANTARCTIC.

" The third day out, the wind hauled, and it
blew heavily from the north-east. This gave
the adventurers a great run. The blink of
ice was shortly seen, and soon after ice itself,
drifting about in bergs. The floating hills
were grand objects to the eye, rolling and wal-
lowing in the seas ; but they were much worn
and melted by the wash of the ocean and com-
paratively of greatly diminished size. It was
now absolutely necessary to lose most of the
hours of darkness it being much too dangerous
to run in the night. The great barrier of ice
was known to be close at hand ; and Cook's
'' Ne Plus Ultra," at that time the great bound-
ary of antarctic navigation, was near the par-
allel of latitude to wliich the schooner had
reached. The weather, however, continued
very favorable, and after the blow from the
north, the wind came from the south, chill and
attended with flurries of snow, but sufficiently
steady and not so fresh as to compel our ad-
venturers to carry very short sail. The
smoothness of the water would of itself have
announced the vicinity of ice : not only did
Gardiner's calculations tell him as much as
this, but his eyes confirmed their results. In
the course of the fifth day out, on several oc-
casions when the weather cleared a little,
glimpses were had of the ice in long moun-
tainous wails, resembling many of the ridges
of the Alps, though moving heavily under the
heaving and setting of the restless waters.
Dense fogs, from time to time clouded the
whole view, and the schooner was compelled
more than once that day, to heave-to, in order
to avoid running on the sunken masses of ice,
or fields, of which many of vast size began to
make their appearance.

Notwithstanding the dangers that surround-
ed our adventurers, they were none of them

so insensible to the sublime powers of nature
as to withhold their admiration from the many
glorious objects which that lone and wild
scene presented. The ice-bergs were of all
the hues of the rainbow, as the sunlight gild-
ed their summits or sides, or they were left
shaded by the interposition of dark and murky
clouds. There were instances when certain
of the hu2:e frozen masses even appeared to
be quite black in particular positions and un-
der peculiar lights ; while others, at the same
instant, were gorgeous in their gleams of em-
erald and go\A !

The aquatic birds, had now become numer-
ous again. Penguins were swimming about,
filling the air with their discordant cries, while
there was literally no end of the cape-pigeons
and petrels. Albatrosses, too. helped to make
up the picture of animated nature, while
whales were often heard blowing in the ad-
jacent waters."

SEAMANSHIP AMONG THE ICE.

" About ten, the moon was well above the
horizon ; the fog had been precipitated in dew
upon the ice, where it congealed, and helped
to arrest the progress of dissolution ; while
the ocean became luminous for the hour, and
objects comparatively distinct. Then it was
that the seamen first got a clear insight into
the awkwardness of their situation. The
bold are apt to be reckless in the dark; but
when danger is visible, their movements be-
come more wary and better calculated than
those of the timid. When Daggett got this
first good look at the enormous masses of the
field-ice, that, stirred by the unquiet ocean,
were grinding each other, and raising an un-
ceasing rushing sound like that the surf pro-
duces on a beach, though far louder, and with
a harshness in it that denoted the collision of
substances harder than water, he almost in-
stinctively ordered every sheet to be flattened
down, and the schooner's head brought as
near the wind as her construction permitted.
Roswell observed the change in his consort's
line of sailing, slight as it was, and imitated
the manoeuvre . The sea was too heavy to
dream of tacking, and there was not room to
ware. So close, indeed, were some of the
cakes, those that might be called the stragglers
of the grand array, that repeatedly each ves-
sel brushed along so near them as actually to
receive slight shocks from collisions with
projecting portions. It was obvious that the
vessels were setting down upon the ice, and that
Daggett did not haul his wind a moment too
soon.

The half-hour that succeeded was one of
engrossing interest. It settled the point whe-
ther the schooners could or could not eat
their way into the wind sufficiently to wea-
ther the danger. Fragment after fragment
was passed ; blow after blow was received :

416

Works of J. Fenimore Cooper.

[April,

until suddenly the field-ice appeared directly
in front. It was in vast quantities, extending
to the southward far as the eye could reach.
There remained no alternative but to attempt
to ware. Without waitina; longer than to as-
sure himself of the facts, Daggett ordered his
helm put up and the main gaff lowered. At
that moment both the schooners were under
their jibs and foresails, each without its bon-
net, and double-reefed mainsails. This was
not canvass very favorable for waring, there
being too much after-sail ; but the sheets Vv'ere
attended to, and both vessels were driving
dead to leeward, amid the foam of a large
wave ; the next instant, ice was heard grind-
ing along their sides.

It was not possible to haul up on the other
tack ere the schooners would be surrounded !
by the floes; and seeing a comparatively open
passage a short distance ahead, Daggett stood
in boldly, followed closely by Roswell. In
ten minutes they were fully a mile within the
field, rendering all attempts to get out of it to
Avindward so hopeless as to be almost despe-
rate. The manoeuvre of Daggett was begun
under circumstances that scarcely admitted of
any alternative, though it might be question-
ed if it were not the best expedient that offer-
ed. Now that the schooners were so far
within the field-ice, the water was much less
troken, though the undulations of the restless
ocean were still considerable, and the grinding
of ice occasioned by them was really terrific.
So loud was the noise produced by these con-
stant and violent collisions, indeed, that the
roaring of the wind was barely audible, and
that only at intervals. The sound was rush-
ing like that of an incessant avalanche, at-
tended by cracking noises that resembled the
rending of a glacier.

The schooners now took in their foresails,
for the double purpose of diminishing their
velocity and of being in a better condition to
change their course, in order to avoid dangers
ahead. These changes, of course, were neces-
sarily frequent ; but, by dint of boldness, per-
severance and skill, Daggett worked his way
into the comparatively open passage already
mentioned. It was a sort of river amid the
floes, caused doubtless by some of the inex-
plicable currents, and was fully a quarter of
a mile in width, straight as an air-line, and of
considerable length ; though how long could
not be seen by moonlight. It led, moreover,
directly down towards the bergs, then distant
less than a mile. Without stopping to ascer-
tain more, Daggett stood on, Roswell keeping
close on his quarter. In ten minutes they
drew quite near to that wild and magnificent
ruined city of alabaster that was floating about
in the antarctic sea !

Notwithstanding the imminent peril that
now most seriously menaced the two schoon-

ers, it was not possible to approach that scene
of natural grandeur without feelings of awe,
that were allied quite as much to admiration
as to dread. Apprehension certainly weigh-
ed on every heart ; but curiosity, wonder,
even delight, were all mingled in the breasts of
the crew. As the vessels came driving down
into the midst of the bergs, everything contri-
buted to render the movements imposing in
all senses, appalling in one. There lay the
vast maze of floating mountains^ generally of
a spectral white at that hour, though many of
the masses emitted hues more pleasing, while
some were black as night. The passages be-
tween the bergs, or what might be termed the
streets and lanes of this mysterious-looking,
fantastical, yet sublime city of the ocean, were
numerous, and of every variety. Some were
broad, straight avenues, a league in length ;
others winding and narrow ; while a good
many were little more than fissures, that might
be fancied lanes.

The schooners had not run a league within
the bergs before they felt much less of the
gale, and the heaving and setting of the seas
were sensibly diminished. What was, per-
haps, not to be expected, the field-ice had dis-
appeared entirely within the passages of the
bergs, and the only difficulty in navigating
was to keep in such channels as had outlets,
and which did not appear to be closing. The
rate of sailing of the two schooners was now
greatly lessened, the mountains usually inter-
cepting the wind, though it was occasionally
heard howling and scuffling in the ravines, as
if in a hurry to escape, and pass on to the
more open seas. The grinding of the ice, too,
came down in currents of air, furnishing fear-
ful evidence of dangers that were not yet dis-
tant. As the water was now sufficiently
smooth, and the wind, except at the mouths
of particular ravines, was light, there was
nothing to prevent the schooners from ap-
proaching each other. This was done, and
the two masters held a discourse together on
the subject of their present situation."

If there were any limit to the produc-
tiveness of modern novelists, one would
think Cooper had written enough. He
has earned his fame, and might repose.
But the habit of invention, probably, grows
into a second nature, and our Jameses and
Coopers, when they have once gotten
fairly upon the wheel, are obliged to keep
advancing, until destiny compels them to
stop. We see already another story from
Cooper, commenced by Mr. Putnam —
" The Ways of the Hour." It will appear
before this notice, and, it is to be hoped,
will resemble, in exhibiting a return to its
author's early manner, the two just com-

1850.]

Worhs of J. Feiiimore Cooper,

417

mended. His forte\s his power of fancy,
exercised on remote scenes and objects ;
there it moves freely, unimpeded by the
actual ; but it is too exuberant to meddle
with every day life, and, like a telescope,
turned to objects near at hand, paints only
distortions. He is at home, not in the
parlor, or the street, but on the ocean, or
in the wilderness. There thousands of his
young countrymen and women will be glad
to accompany him through many more
hazardous voyages and joui'neys.

It is a proof of Cooper's great popular-
ity, after all his newspaper warfare, that
republications of his novels should be in
progress at the same time — one from Put-
nam, of which the Spy, Pilot, and Red
Rover have already appeared, each in the
modern convenient fashion of two volumes
in one, the other from Stringer & Towns-
end, whose cheap editions are well known.

We hope our brief and imperfect critique
may assist in extending theii- sale.

G. W. P.

, (

418

Duel Without Seconds.

[April,

THE DUEL WITHOUT SECONDS:

A DAGUERREOTYPE FROM THE STATE HOUSE OF ARKANSAS.

BY A MEMBER OF THE LEGISLATtTRE.

PROLOGUE.

The Western desperado offers for ana-
lysis a new type of human character pecu-
liar to the American frontier. He has no
exemplar, either among the fiercest forms
of savage life, or in any the wildest regions
of the old world. Like the fresh forest
embowering the rude log-cabin of his home
— like the novel medium of circumstances,
that environs his political, social, and
moral being, coloring all his fancies, and
inspiring all his feelings, he is a sheer ori-
ginal, as thoroughly unique^ as he is
terribly interesting.

It does not enter into our present pur-
pose to discuss the tangled rationale of
causes concurring to yield such a singular
specimen of humanity. We intend, not to
explain why he is, but simply to describe
him as he is. In doing this, however, it
may become necessary to show, first of all,
what he is not, so as to contra-distinguish
him from certain analogue, with whom he
has been frequently confounded, by reason
of some common attributes and affinities,
though, in other respects, he is toto codo
an oppo.site.

1. The desperado is not an assassin.
As his very name implies, he is too desper-
ate^ too fearlessly and blindly brave for
that. He never lurks in ambush ; never
stabs in the dark; never assaults his
enemy when the latter is unarmed ; never
seeks to take him by surprise, and never
manoeuvres for the vantage ground. Doth
lie chance to meet his mortal foe — the man
who has slain his father, or violated his
sister, or profaned his own person with the
stinging touch of the horse- whip .'' Before

he cocks his pistol, or draws the big bowie
knife from its scabbard beside his heart, he
asks the invariable and formal question :
"Are you prepared.^" If the other an-
swer, " No, I have not got my tools^'' the
desperado says : " Go and get them ;
arm yourself well ; for one of us must die."
Thus, it is evident he is not an Assassin.

2. Neither is he a bravo. He never
slays for hire. He would slay the wretch
outright who should dare propose a bloody
bribe ; and so great is his loathing and
horror for all sorts of dishonesty, that he
even deems immediate death, without any
formalities of law or trial the just punish-
ment of a detected thief or swindler : and
he stands ever ready to execute such pen-
alty himself. And thus also it is plain he
is not a bravo.

3. Again, he is not either in disposition, or
demeanor, an over-bearing tyrant, prone
to bully the weak, and cringe to the power-
ful. On the contrary, he makes a theo-
retical division of mankind, into two grand
classes — " fighting men," and " peaceable
men." He never attacks individuals who
fall under the second category, — such can-
not insult him by any indignity short of
personal violence. But a sneering word or
supercilious look from a "fighting man,"
sets him on fire as with lightning.

4. The desperado differs widely, too,
from the professed duelist. It is true
they are both mentally sworn to avenge in-
sult ; but there the similarity ceases. The
duelist fights for etiquette, and from a
sense of honor : the desperado, from pas-
sion, and for the pure love of danger. The

1850.]

Duel Without Seconds.

419

one obeys an organized code, burdened
with multitudinary statutes as to times,
places, formulas, weapons, and the per-
sonal equality of antagonists ; the other re-
cognizes but one law — on the proper pro-
vocation, and at the precise moment of its
reception, to wage deadly combat, at any
time, in any place, and with any and every
kind of weapon. The one must needs
have his second to arrange preliminaries
and see fair play : the other can have no
preliminaries, for he does battle on the in-
sult, ere the thought gets cold, — he him-
self, will make fair play, and Death always
is his second. The one calls for pistols, or
the gentleman's sword, or perhaps in a
strong case, will risque the surer rifle, es-
pecially if attended by the surgeon and his
instruments ; the other will combat, if ye
prefer it, with knives, hatchets, short guns,
or cannon, — nay, he would even handle
red-hot "thunder-stones," had he power
to command the artillery of storms : and
there may be business for the grave-
digger, for the doctor never, when he is
done !

It is worthy of remark, that the desper-
ado has a characteristic division of insults
and injuries, denoted by the terms " pardon-
able " and ''unpardonable." The num-
ber of " pardonables" is large and rather
indefinite ; but a spit in the face, the stroke
of a horse-whip, the imputation of a lie,
the denial of courage, the murder of a rela-
tion, and the seduction of a female friend,
are fixed, inexpiable " unpardonables" —
sins that must be answered by blood.

The man is not necessarily, in other re-
spects, a dangerous or disagreeable mem-
ber of society. He may be an affectionate
husband, a fond parent, a pleasant neigh-
bor. He is commonly courteous, often
humane, and seldom inhospitable.

In fine, two, and only two essential ele-
ments may be assigned as constituting the
logical differentia of the desperado's char-
acter— perfect freedom from fear, and un-
conquerable determination to punish every
insult from one of his class.

This much may suffice as a general de-
scription of the strange species. We now
proceed to exemplify, by detailing a dread-
ful instance, where the wi'iter had the mis-
fortune to be an unwilling eye-witness of
the tragedy.

THE DUEL.

The Legislature of Arkansas held a
session shortly after the organization of the
State Government. Every thing, of course,
was in a condition of half-chaotic transition.
The " loaves and fishes" of office had not
yet been fully divided, and monopoly was
knocking noisily at the door of the " pub-
lic crib," clamorous to be admitted. In-
tense was the fury of partizans within the
House, and as fierce the excitement raging
in the community without. The members
mostly went to their places armed to tha
teeth, and, besides the choice weapons,
worn in their bosoms, or protruding from
their pockets, each kept an ample supply
of revolving pistols in the writing-desk be-
fore him. There were munitions of war
enough in the hall to have answered the
purposes of a small army.

Every evening after adjournment, there
was a general firing oif and reloading in
order to have their '' tools" of death in
prime condition for the emergencies of the
morrow. I was frequently startled from
sleep at the hour of midnight, by the roar
of incessant explosions, heard at different
points in the city. Many legislators also
during the day would be out practising to
learn the difficult art of cutting a tape
string at ten paces, or of driving the centre
out of a silver quarter, at twelve. They
used as their pistol-gallery a little grove of
pine trees, immediately on the south bank
of the Arkansas river, and not more than
fifty yards from the State-House, where
every report was fearfully audible ; and ad-
monished certain independent members of
the doom they might expect, provided
their votes were not cast in favor of the
banks ! The Deringer pistol and bowie-
knife governed. Power resided in gun-
powder ; and popularity hovered round the
points of naked daggers.

Among the most agitating measures, call-
ing into exercise the wisdom of the West-
ern sages ^ was the institution of the Eeal
Estate Bank. Its establishment was strongly
and steadily, but ineffectually opposed by
a slender minority. All the wealthiest
men in the State, all the leading legisla-
tors took shares of its capital stock ; and
John Wilson, speaker of the lower House,
was elected President. As this person
was one of the chief actors in the tragedy

420

Duel Without Seconds.

[April,

soon to be recorded, a brief designation of
his appearance and character becomes ne-
cessary.

Every public man in the backwoods has
a sobriquet^ bestowed on account of some
real or fancied peculiarity, by the whimsi-
cal humors of his constituents. Speaker
Wilson was called " Horse Ears," from his
possessing an accident never before heard
of in the natural history of the species.
When excited by any violent emotion, his
ears worked up and down flexibly, like
those of a horse. A man of ordinary looks,
nothing in his features or countenance de-
noted the desperado, save a strange, wild,
twinkling expression of his infantile grey
eyes, always in motion with cold, keen
glances, as if watching out for some secret
enemy. He had fought half-a-dozen duels
with uniform success, and had been engaged
in several luore off-hand affrays, in none
of which he had received even the honor of a
scar. Hence, as may well be supposed, his
prowess inspired almost universal fear ; and
few were the dead shots to be found in Ar-
kansas, who would voluntarily seek a
quarrel with " old Horse-Ears." As to
the rest, he was the owner of a large cotton
farm, rich and influential, honest, liberal,
and courteous in his manners ; exceedingly
amiable in his domestic relations, beloved
by his family and adored by his slaves.
Such are often the inconsistencies of human
nature, which seems utterly incapable of
producing unalloyed types of either good or
evil — angels or devils !

During the session, previously specified,
there was a member of the lower House,
by the name of Abel Anthony, in no way
remarkable except for his opposition to the
banks and his sly, quiet wit, addicted to
practical jokes. In the parlance of fron-
tier technics, he belonged to the category
of " peaceable men," having never in all his
life before had a mortal rencounter. He was
even deemed a coward, for he had been
known to pocket open insults without so
much as showing a sign of resentment.

One day the bill to provide for the more
effectual rewarding of wolf-slayers, denom-
inated, in short, " the wolf-scalp bill,"
came up for discussion. This had been a
standing reform measure from the earliest
settlement of Arkansas, and will probably
continue to be so long as the Ozark moun-
tains shall rear thek black, bristling crests

in the western division of the State, or the
Mississippi swamps shall occupy so large
an area in the east. Accordingly, when-
ever the wolf-scalp bill is taken up, a tre-
mendous debate ensues. The contest then
is no longer between the ifis and outs of
power. Whigs and Democrats alike over-
leap the iron lines of party demarkation,
and begin a general massacre of chance-
medley. It is a battle — war to the knife,
and the knife to the handle — of every mem-
ber against every other ; the object being,
as to who shall urge the most annihilating
statutes against their common foes, the
wolves, because that is the great pivot-
question on which hinges the popularity of
each and all.

The present occasion was the more
arousing, as there had happened lately a
laughable, but most annoying, instance in
fraud of the previous territorial law. It
seems that a cunning Yankee, fresh from
the land growing " wooden nutmegs," had
conceived a notable scheme of rearing
wolves of his own ; so that by butchering
a hairy whelp, at his option, and taking its
ears to a Justice of the Peace, he could ob-
tain a certificate of " wolf-scalp," entitling
him to ten doUars out of the county treas-
ury. It was said that this enterprising
genius had already in his pens a number of
fine looking breeders, and expressed san-
guine hopes of soon realizing a handsome
fortune !

Numerous were the provisions advoca-
ted to prevent such scandalous evasions in
future. Among others. Brown C. Roberts
of Marion, moved " that each certificate of
a genuine wolf-scalp be based on not less
than four affidavits, and be signed by at
least four Justices, and one Judge of the
Circuit Court."

Abel Anthony moved to amend by add-
ing, " and by the President of the Real
Estate Bank."

This was intended by the mover merely
as a jest, to throw ridicule on the compli-
cated machinery of Roberts' bill, and ac-
cordingly it excited a general smile. But
very different was the effect on Mr. Speak-
er Wilson, President of the Real Estate
Bank. He saw fit to interpret the amend-
ment as the deadliest insult !

I glanced towards the honorable Chair-
man, expecting to see him enjoying the
joke ; but the moment I beheld his counte-

1850.]

Duel Without Seconds.

421

nance, I was absolutely horrified at its sav-
age expression. His face was of ashy
paleness ; and there, on those thin, white
lips, as if in devilish mockery of malice,
sat that grim, snake-like, writhing smUe,
which merely moved the curled mouth,
spreading no further, nor affecting any
other feature — that significant smile of
murder, so peculiar to almost the whole
class of desperadoes, when about to do
some deed of death. There was, however,
brief space for speculation as to physiogno-
mic signs ; for hardly had the offensive
words left Anthony's lips, when Wilson
sprang to his feet and imperiously ordered
the other to sit down.

Anthony, manifesting no token of either
surprise or alarm, replied mildly, that he
was entitled to the floor.

" Sit down !" Wdson repeated, and this
time in a shout like thunder.

" I am entitled to the floor, and will not
resign it," said Anthony, apparently with-
out anger, but giving back a look of calm,
immovable resolution.

Speaker Wilson then left the chair,
drew his bowie knife, descended the steps
of the platform, and slowly and deliberate-
ly advanced through the hall some forty
feet, in the direction of his foe — all the
whUe that ghastly horrid smile, coiling up
his pallid lips, and his ears moving back-
wards and forwards, with those strange,
short, sharp vibrations which had won for
him long before the nick-name of "Horse-
Ears."

As Anthony was commonly considered
a coward, when the spectators beheld the
far-famed and all-dreaded duelist advancing
upon him with uplifted blade, glancing
aloft in the air, as ready for the fatal blow,
all supposed that the reputed craven would
flee in terror from his place. No one be-
lieved that he was armed, or that he would
fight under any circumstances, or with any
odds of position or weapons. But in this
opinion every body was mistaken, and no
one, perhaps, more so than his infuriate
adversary. While that ferocious man was
coming towards him, he stood calm and
motionless as a pillar of marble. His
color did not change one shade. All his
limbs were rigid as iron. His only evi-
dence of unusual emotion was a copious
efflux of tears ! At the sight of this we
all shuddered, for then we knew the weep-

er would conquer or perish. In the back-
woods experience has demonstrated two
unmistakable tokens of thorough desper-
ation— frozen smiles and hot-gushing tears :
and tears may always be regarded as far
the most dangerous. Such a conclusion
was verified fully in the present instance ;
for as soon as the Speaker approached
within ten feet of his weeping enemy, the
latter suddenly unsheathed a bowie-knife
from his bosom, and stepped boldly for-
ward to the proffered battle. And then
commenced a struggle for life and death,
the most obstinate, bloody, and fright-
fully protracted, ever witnessed in the
Southwest.

Wilson's knife was long, keen, and so
highly polished that you might see yourself
in the reflection of its smooth, bright sur-
face, as in the most perfect looking-glass.
The image being an extremely small min-
iature, so symmetrical was the rounding of
the fine glittering steel. On each side of
the flashing blade was a picture, the fac-
simile of the other, wi'ought in exquisite
gold enamel, of two Indians in their wild,
native costume engaged in mortal combat
with bowie knives.

The weapon of Anthony was of the
largest size of the class called in that coun-
try " Arkansas tooth-picks," the most
murderous implement of destruction, be-
fore which a human eye ever quailed. On
one side of its broad gleaming; blade was
the picture of a fight betwixt a hunter and
black bear. The bear seemed to be
squeezing the man to death in its iron hug,
while he was fiercely digging at the shaggy
monster's heart with the point of his knife.

Such devices are common on the arms
of the most notorious desperadoes on the
frontiers, and are the objects of as intense
a pride to their owners, as were the
insignia of the most exalted chivalry to
the knights of the heroic ages. For aU
men are poets ; and the idea seeks for ever
more to render itself incarnate in the ma-
terial form — to speak in knowing signs to
the senses. Destructiveness will have its
images as well as Devotion !

WUson made the first pass — a determined
thrust aimed at the pit of his antagonist's
stomach, which the other dexterously par-
ried. For a time both parties fought with
admirable coolness, and with such consum-
mate skill, that only slight wounds were

422

Duel Without Seconds.

[April,

inflicted, and those on the head and face,
whence blood began to trickle freely.
And still — ominous and awful vision —
while the contest raged, the opposite and
characteristic signs of desperation remain-
ed fixed, sculptured by the hand of horri-
ble vengeance in either countenance. The
cold smile, now converted into a fiendish
grin of immeasurable malice, still lingered
on Wilson's livid lips : and the tears still
flowed, mingling now with warm blood
from Anthony's black blazing eyes ! The
clatter of the knives, thrusting and fending
ofi", and sharply ringing against each other,
was hideous to hear, and alone broke the
appalhng sUence that reigned throughout
the hall.

At length, both foes, maddened at the
prolonged obstinacy of the struggle, and
blinded by the gore from the red gashes
about their eyes, lost all caution, coolness,
and equanimity, and battled wildly, more
like devUs than living men. Each one,
more intent on taking the life of his enemy
than in guarding his own, exerted every
nerve and muscle with a truculent fury
that struck the very beholders with icy
fear. Both were soon very severely wound-
ed in different parts of the body ; but still
there came no pause in the combat, till
Anthony, striking a heavy, over-handed
blow, cut his adversary's arm half off at
the wrist ! Wilson changed his bowie
knife into his left hand, and, for an instant,
ran several steps backwards, as if to de-
cline any further contest. He then stopped,
and, smiling more frightfully than ever, —
a fearless, infernal look, — again rushed
forwards. Previously, at this crisis, when
certain victory was within his grasp, An-
thony committed the folly of flinging his
knife at the other's bosom, which, missing
its aim, fell with a loud, ringing noise on
the floor, more than thirty feet distant.
Thi.'s error decided the tremendous com-
bat. Anthony was entirely disarmed, at
the mercy of the tiger-man. Wilson
darted upon him with a hoarse cry of an-

ger and hellish joy — there, where he stood,
motionless as a rock, powerless to resist,
and yet too brave to fly. One sharp
thrust ripped open the victim's bowels,
and he caught them, as they were falling,
in his hands ! Another stroke, directed
at the neck, severed the main artery, and
the blood, spouting out with a gurgling
noise, sprinkled the robes, and even the
faces, of some members who sat nearest to
the horrid scene !

The last act of the tragedy was closed,
and the curtain of death dropped on the
gory stage. Anthony, without a groan or
sigh, fell in his place a corpse, and Wil-
son, fainting from loss of blood, sunk down
beside him.

Up to this moment, although sixty Le-
gislators were in their seats, and more than
a hundred lookers-on in the lobby, and
jewelled bevies of bright-eyed ladies in the
gallery, still no one, save those raging mad-
men, had moved ; no sound had disturbed
the whisperless silence, but the clangors of
their concussive steel. But then, as both
tumbled on the floor, like lumps of lead, a
single wild, wailing, heart-shivering shriek,
as if some other soul were parting with its
mortal clay, arose in the crowd of females,
and all was again still ; but whether that
deep cry of an orphaned spirit was uttered
by the maiden of poor Anthony's bosom,
who had hoped to-morrow to be his bride,
or by the beautiful little daughter of Wil-
son, or by some pitying stranger, could
never be ascertained.

Wilson recovered, and is yet alive ; and
there is scarcely an inch square on his face
that does not show its deep scar, as a me-
mento of the matchless combat. He was ex-
pelled the House, bailed by a 77ierc?/MZ judge,
brought to trial, and acquitted. There
was never a jury yet in the back-woods
that would convict a person for slaying
another in fair fight ! For the desperado
is the back-woods' hero, whom all men
ivorship.

1850.]

Miss Bremer at Home.

423

MISS BREMER AT HOME

A STRAY LEAF FROM MY DIARY.

* * Stages there are none in Sweden, and
yet they dare speak ah-eady of railroads !
Travellers find nothing but horses, eight or
ten hands high, a two-wheeled cart without
top or springs, and a driver of ten or sixty
years — rarely between — of either sex, to
convey them from station to station. For-
eigners who do not suiFer of dyspepsia, hire
or buy carriages with the safe prospect of
selling them again at the end of their jour-
ney. ]\Iine, a light but strong vehicle,
stood at eight in the morning before my
door. A rare sight it was, even for the
good people of Stockholm. The horses,
perfect grasshoppers, were almost buried in
the stout, heavy harness which belongs to
the carriage, and is carelessly thrown upon
giants and dwarfs, adapting itself with
truly wonderful elasticity to all sizes and
forms. Their shaggy, uncombed manes
concealed head and neck, not however a
most cunning, bright eye, full of courage
and devilry. The coachman's seat rose
high above them, and on it throned Gustaf
in the full glory of his light gray Macin-
tosh, a hat from the Abruzzi, and a most
formidable whip, the terror of all horses,
and cursed by every peasant in Sweden
and Norway. At his side the Skjutsbonde,
the postillion of the station, in his rough
but picturesque costume, looking askant at
the "wild American," and evidently re-
gretting to have risked his hfe in such com-
pany for a few copper coins.

Off we started, round one corner and
another, over the floating bridge, full of
fishermen and their customers. How beau-
tiful this Northern city is ! Here another
lake opens before us, and always a perfect
picture, full of life and action, with clear
soft lights and a glorious background.
What costumes come crowding round us!
not the less pleasing because worn by a

noble race and a happy people. Up the
hill we dash in full gallop, and down to
another lake, until the long, endless Queen-
street opens before us. The small wooden
houses look cheerful in spite of the dark
red with which they are covered to the
very roof ; the bright large window panes
show every where white curtains and well
kept flowers. Now the houses become
smaller and smaller, but what is that state-
ly building there at the corner, with its
curious carvings and mysterious signboard ?
Gustaf knows it well and tells the story
not without eS"ect, because he feels what
he says. There is the last halt made when
criminals are carried out to the gaUows ;
there the youngest maid in the house comes
out with a cup full of foaming beer, and
hands it to the poor feUow in his cart.
How she trembles and blushes ! And he,
the wretch, laughs and drinks, and will
have his vulgar jokes even there and then.
But Gustaf knows more — has he not been
the late minister's own man ^ And was

not Count T K , who poisoned

his own sweet child, his master's grand
uncle } The proud Count, too, had to
pass by there, and the cart stopped and the
maid came, the cup in her hand. But a
strange maid she was. She trembled not,
nor did she blush, but with a firm step did
she come up to the pale, shaking prisoner,
and with a firm voice did she bid him drink.
He drank and his eyes were on her eyes,
and when he had said, I thank you ! he
sank back on the straw and was dead ! She
was his wife, and the executioner huno; a
corpse.

Ten minutes more and the gallows ap-
peared. It was a pleasant spot to hang a
man : a beautiful forest surrounded the
gi'een, luxuriant meadow, on which the
tliree stone pillars rose with their cross-

424

Miss Bremer at Home.

[April,

bars and rusty chains. Pleasant, too,
looked the hangman's little yellow house,
covered with ivy and gay beans, with the
urchins playing before it and the mother m
the porch, an infant on her bosom, and po-
litely courtesying ! How far are life and
death asunder? I forgot an important
feature in the scene— the man who hung
on one of the pillars and could not be
taken down before night. The children
played all the more joyously, the mother
smiled all the more happily on her babe
and the father— why, the father never
came home before night on such days. So
says Gustaf.

Now we are in the country. See, how
that glorious Like breaks upon us ! What
is the secret of these landscapes ? They
have but three elements, always the same,
and yet are never monotonous. There are
the barren, stern, gray granite rocks with
their crown of noble firs ; there is the dear
blue sky, not a cloud, not a vapor sailing
in its lofty vault ; and there is the dark,
quiet lake, looking at you, like one of those
deep, deep eyes that no thought can fathom
and no heart ever forget. Now and then
only the rocks recede and shelter a meadow
with its thick, short, fragrant grass and its
thousand sweet flowers. On the water's
edge stands the little red house with its
bafsamines and honeysuckle under the open
window ; mother and daughter busily at
•work strewing the floor with green fir-twigs
and twisting them into garlands for looking-
glass and sideboard. The road turns round
one of those gigantic rocks with which the
country is filled, and another lake spreads
its still dark waters before our eye. Huge
granite masses hem it in on all sides ; tall,
graceful firs bend over its margin and cool
their thirsting branches in its limpid wa-
ters; other lakes are seen at a distance,
and high over rocks and trees rises the
steeple with its bright copper roof and its
proud weather-cock.

The country looks wilder and wilder. At
intervals a house appears on a smiling
plain, half hidden in the forest; ever and
anon a church bell is heard far off, but the
air is so still and nature so quiet that you
fancy you hear every vibration, and the
sound lingers among the rocks and under
the broad" branching trees. Not a singing
bird is heard; the chirping of an insect

startles you from your dreams ; the falling
of a leaf attracts your attention.

A gate opens. There stand the little
white-haired children, their deep blue eyes
eagerly watching for the small coin that
the generous traveller is expected to give
them. They speak not ; not even then-
hands plead for them, and when the farth-
ing falls, the elder takes it and kisses the
three years old, and they laugh full of joy,
and hasten through the forest home, to tell
of their good luck and to show their treas-
ure. On the right stands a small, hewn
stone, and on it the word " Arsta." We
are on Miss Bremer's estate. The wood
forms a large park — deer is not to be found
in Sweden — and nicely cut fences, well
carved gates, and here and there a parterre
of flowers betray the owner's taste. An
avenue of beautiful, venerable trees be-
gins at a second gate and through
the tops the noble old buildings ap-
pear at a distance. It is a plain but lofty
pile, white, with a dark, sombre roof; a
small, not ungraceful tower rises on one
side, and the dark, bold background of
rocks and pine-clad hills gives an imposing
though stern air to the scene, whilst the
breakers of the Baltic, heard but not seen,
add to the general effect. The road turns
a sharp angle and you enter the vast, paved
yard, a row of truly magnificent elms, cen-
turies old, shelters the garden on your left ;
a grand staircase of white stone leads you,
on the right, up to the noble entrance, with
its pillars and well-carved coat of arms. An
old DalkuUa — peasant woman from Dale-
carlia — very picturesque and very ugly,
looked rather astonished at us, and ascend-
ed the large flight of stone steps. She
soon returned, followed by a small, thin
lady of more than forty, v^^ith a very sweet
smile on every one of her features. A
loose black silk dress, high up on the neck ;
a small white cap ; no ornament, no jew-
elry, except the silver in her hair, which,
smoothly plaited down on both sides, form-
ed a pleasant and appropriate frame to the
fine, good face within. And how the
whole lighted up when she stood before me
and so kindly bade me welcome ! Kind and
warm was her reception, but yet she took
good care twice to repeat my name and
title, and to make herself quite au fait
about her unexpected visitor. While we

1850.]

Miss Bremer at Home.

425

were yet standing there, lier sisters joined
her — very much like Fredrika, ahnost as
pleasant and good, but much less hand-
some. We were requested to follow her
up stall's ; driver and horses were placed
under the special care of another female
servant, and certain mysterious signs and
words exchanged with a grim old cook in
the background.

In the upper story we found a spacious
hall, leading into a tine large room without
paper or carpet : a couple of books on a
centre table, some nodding mandarins on
the huge porcelain stove, and a few vases
between the windows were the only orna-
ments. Miss Bremer spoke in excellent
English, and with much feeling of our own
beloved country, for which she entertains
a high respect, founded upon an uncom-
mon familiarity with both the sphit and
the working of our institutions.

Such gentle modesty, and such informa-
tion I have seldom found together. Her
recent excursion to Germany, where she
had been using the water-cure on the banks
of old father Rhine, led her to speak of
German politics and German authors.
She spoke German, as well as her mother-
tongue, and French quite fluently. When
will our own fair women do as much .? My
trip to Finland found favor in her eyes,
and when I spoke of those wonderfully
sweet songs with which that distant, un-
known land abounds, she grew wanner and
warmer, until at last she sat down to an
old, old harpsichord, and played, and sang,
her heart in her voice, and tears in her
eyes. I looked, and I listened, and Jenny
Lind, with all her indescribable charms,
could not have enchanted more. But this
was not all. A rustling of silk, a myste-
rious noise made us tm-n round, and there
was the younger sister attempting to make
us distinguish the Dalman's Polska from
the English trip ! There was so much
true heart's kindness, such sweet naivete
in the whole scene, that I felt nothing but
honest, genuine admiration for the good
old sisters. And Fredrika sang another,
and still another of those beautiful Swedish
songs, with which her young countrywoman
charms the world. What sweet melan-
choly there is in all of them ! A melan-
choly, not wild and despairing, not painful
and irritating, but a grief so resigned, so
gentle — ^you cannot, for your life, help

thinking ever afterwards of those notes,
full of humble sorrow, and low complaint,
with a cheerful accord here and there, like
the golden ray of the noonday's sun, that
breaks through the thick canopy of Nor-
way's dark pine forests, and sheds for a
moment a brilliant light on the gloomy
night beneath.

The next room, glowing with the gol-
den light of the setting sun, contained a
rare work of statuary. It was the Goddess
Jauna, modelled by a talented young
sculptor of Stockholm, after Miss Bremer's
own idea and instructions. In form and
dress a simple Swedish peasant girl, she
had still such dignity in her carriage, such
a clear, lofty expression in her features,
that Goddess and woman appeared most
happily blended. No classic outlines,
no slavish adherence to rules respect-
ed only because of their antiquity. But
what a beautiful, earnest eye, full of love
and compassion, looking far into the future,
and yet not unconscious of the present.
How thoughtfully, and yet how gracefully,
that small, well-rounded hand encloses the
chin, whilst the left holds the golden
apples, the glorious reward of the brave
warrior, giving him the life eternal, and
never-tiring joy ! I do not wonder at Miss
Bremer's predilection for Jauna ; there are
few sweeter creations of man's fancy in the
mythology of nations, modern or ancient.
She had the gift of seeing into the future,
but when the f;Gods asked her how and
when the world was to come to an end,
she raised those deep, loving eyes of hers
to heaven, and hot tears pearled down — the
only answer she gave. The Gods loved
her — all ; but some too much, and one of
her wicked admu'ers ravished her from
heaven. The other Gods were sad in their
hearts, and grew old, and their faces were
covered with wrinkles and furrows. But
Jauna came back, and there was joy in
heaven, and the Gods grew yoimg again,
and were merry. Yet Jauna never laugh-
ed. Did she not know the future !

There was a little mystery evidently be-
tween our kind hostess and her servants.
Gentle tappings at the door ; solemn,
though short conversations outside, a great
bustling from room to room, all were symp-
toms that we were either most unexpected
guests, or to be magnificently entertained.
Our appetite told us the hour of the day

426

Miss Bremer at Home.

[April,

witli wonderful precision. At last Miss
Bremer came boldly out with it. Her
mother had gone to Stockholm, and taken
the only male servant with her ; so, we
must have patience, take pot-luck, and,
especially, walk an hour or so in the gar-
den, before dinner is ready.

Well, a walk in such a garden, and with
such a mind at one's side, is almost as good
as a dinner. And what a glorious garden it
is ! Stiff and regular, to be sure, as the
German founder of the house. Count
Thum, loved to have it in his old days.
But the parterres are filled with gay, fra-
grant flowers, and the old trees, which en-
close the open square, rise high into the
air until their branches meet and form
gothic arches of surprising boldness and
beauty. Here Fredrika wanders, she told
us, many an hour, day after day, a book
in her hand, or a book in her mind ; here
her pure, truthful creations take form and
shape, and here we now wandered for
hours up and down the long, shady avenues,
and French, and English, Swedish and
German, even Italian, had to furnish
their contingent to carry on our little war.
So, she stoutly defended the necessity of
an aristocracy ; it was necessary and natu-
ral, she said, for, cream will form on the
surface of milk.

I dare not betray the secrets of our din-
ner. A right good one it was, although a
genuine Swedish dinner, with its thin, hard
bread, baked once for the whole year, and
its soup, after the roast meat. Soup, I
said, but Swedish soup — that is, fish-soup,
with dried pears and plums in it, and the
inevitable Tilbunka — our bonnyclabber.
When the latter was handed round, our
hostess told us a pleasant story about it,
and told it so well, that it cannot fail to
lose much in the translation :

Long years ago, when people were yet
pious, and believed in God and the Pope,
a good Swede pilgrimed to the Holy Grave.
The heat of Italy and its sweet figs, how-
ever, threw him on the sick-bed, and kind
monks took him into their convent, there
better to nurse the poor, suffering stranger,
and his fever grew high, and his mind
wandered, but one thought remained up-
permost, and for hours he would call out
and pray for his beloved dish, until the
walls of the old monastery rang with the
mysterious sound of — Tilbunka ! But
what was Tilbunka ? one monk asked ano-

ther, and at last they appealed to the abbot.
He knew it. The chapel was opened ;
the choir was called together, gorgeous
robes were put on, and sweet incense was
burned. In long, solemn procession the
holy brethren entered, and down they
knelt in silent prayer. At last a voice
was heard, and the organ pealed forth its
richest harmonies, and in loud, solemn
tones rose the anthem up to heaven, that
"Santa Tilbunka," the Patron Saint of
the foreign pilgrim, would hear their pray-
er, and save her pious worshipper.

A sweet voice, that rarest gift of all,
Miss Bremer certainly has, and there is
harmony in her thoughts, as there is mel-
ody in her words. With what beautiful
subdued enthusiasm she spoke of her excur-
tion to Haparanda, high up in the north
of Sweden, where she ascended the famous
mountain of Haparanda, to see the sun
remaining all night above the horizon !
How vividly she painted that lovely, stiU
landscape lying at her feet, when towards
midniw;ht a silent, solemn struo-^le began,
when drowsy nature was anxious to sleep,
and night would not come and cover it
with its warm mantle ; and when at last
light whitish vapors rose to hide the mys-
teries of night from the curious eye of
man. The sun sank, but when he touch-
ed the horizon, he sank no more ; his bril-
liancy, however, was gone, and no rays
gilded the tops of the hazy mountains.
There she stood alone in the still night,
not a sound to be heard far or near, the
gray mist hovering over lake and river :
the fearfid, mysterious struggle between
night and day still going on ; a strange,
unnatural light, reflected from heaven upon
earth, and no shadow visible !

We staid long, and time passed rapidly.
Albums were brought out, books consult-
ed and criticised, her own excellent
sketches kindly shown, and even a look
at some as yet unpublished works most in-
dulgently granted. An incident, as pleas-
ing as characteristic, concluded our visit.
We had expressed a wish to take some
little keepsake home with us. Before we
took leave. Miss Bremer left us for a mo-
ment, and soon re-appeared with a rose in
her hand, which the good, kind old lady
had gone herself to get in her garden !
" Tell my friends in your happy country
that I shall be with them next Spring,"
were her parting words. * * * *

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

427

CONGRESSIONAL SUMMARY.

We present, as a summary of this month's
proceedings in Congress, the speeches of
Messrs. Calhoun, ^Webster, and Seward.
These, with the speech of Mr. Clay, given in
our last number, are a complete exposition of
the present great social, moral, and political
question before the nation. Avoiding, with the
e.vception of Mr. Seward's speech, the wide
range of abstract discussion the subject pre-
sents, they are comprehensive statements of
the various phases of public o])inion.

On Tuesday, March 5th, the Senate, having
proceeded to the consideration of the resolu-
tions submitted by Mr. Clay, Mr. Calhoun,
having the floor, spoke as follows :

From the very first, he commenced, it had
been his belief that the agitation of this ques-
tion of slavery would ultimately lead to dis-
union. Agitation has been suffered to pro-
ceed, and the anticipated result is at last
before us ; and the great and grave question
is now forced on this body— by what means
can disunion be avoided %

To find the cure, we must learn the causes
that have bred disease in the once healthful
frame of our Federal system. To save the
Union, we must first know what has endan-
gered the Union. To this question there is
but one answer — the all-pervading discontent
of the Southern section of States.

Whence, then, springs this discontent ? Is
it from the arts of demagogues ? he asks.
Is it the working of faction and party spirit ?
Not so ; here, as elsewhere, all regular poli-
tical influences have been arrayed against ex-
citing local questions, as weakening the
strength of party ties ; and that spirit, with
all its immense weight, has, in reality, held in
check the course of public opinion. The
real source of this discontent, the Senator
continued, lies deeper. It is found in the
settled belief of the people of the South that
they can no longer, with honor and safety,
remain in the Union.

Again ; what has caused this belief ? It
has sprung from the continued agitation of the
slave-question by the North ; from their ag-
gressions on the rights of the South, and from
the fact, which gives to these aggressions their
practical significance, that the original equili-
brium between the two sections no longer ex-

YOL. V. NO. IV. NEW SERIES.

ists. Mr. Calhoun went on to show, from
statistics, that the balance between these ele-
mentary divisions of the body politic, existino-
at the census of 1790, was entirely destroyed at
the time of the last census of 1840. This ine-
quality will be increased by the approaching
census of the present decade. Two new terri"^
tories are in progress to strengthen the North-
ern faction in the Senate, and strenuous efforts
are making to bring in three additional free
States from the territory recently acquired from
Mexico.

This destruction of an equilibrium, which,
he argued, was the fundamental basis of the
confederacy, and of the Constitution, was not
the result of time or natural causes. In that
case, the South had no reason of complaint.
It was brought about by the partial legislation
of a Government that should have been the
impartial trustee of the interests and security
of all. This legislation, territorial, financial,
political, will, first and last, have given
to the North, if New Mexico and California
be suffered to pass into her hands, full three-
fourths of all the territory the United States
ever possessed. Added to this, systems of
revenue collected by duties on imports, and
falling heavily on those, who, by their ex-
ports, paid for these imports ; unequal dis-
bursements ; stringent tariffs, drawing direct
contribution from the producing States, have
all aided, in swelling to their present height,
the wealth and prosperity, and consequent in-
ducements to emigration, of the North.

" These causes," the Senator proceeded,
" amply explain why the North has acquired
a preponderance over every department of the
Government, by its disproportionate increase
of population and States. The former has
increased, in fifty years, 2,400,000 over that
of the South. This increase of population,
during so long a period, is satisfactorily ac-
counted for by the number of emigrants, and
the increase of their descendants, which have
been attracted to the Northern section from
Europe and the South, in consequence of the
advantages derived from the causes assigned.
If they had not existed ; if the South had re-
tained all the capital which has been extract-
ed from her by the fiscal action of the Govern-
ment ; and if it had not been excluded by the

428

Congressional Summary.

[April,

ordinance of '87, and the Missouri compro-
mise, from the region lying between the Ohio
and Mississippi rivers, and between the Missis-
sippi and the Rocky Mountains, north of 37°,
39' • it scarcely admits of a doubt that it
would have divided the emigration with the
North, and, by retaining her own people,
would have, at least, equalled the North in
population, under the census of 1840, and,
probably, under that about to be taken. She
would also, if she had retained her equal rights
in those territories, have maintained equality
in the number of States with the North, and
have preserved the equilibrium between the
two sections that existed at the commence-
ment of the Government. The loss, then, of
the equilibiium is to be attributed to the ac-
tion of this Government.

This territory, Mr. Calhoun continued,
tirus wrested from the hands of the South,
thus enriched and peopled at the expense of the
South, is now, by the political tendency of the
day, to be used to overwhelm them. Central-
ization has converted this confederacy of inde-
pendent powers into a consolidated democracy,
and sectional interests, and political rights, are
now mere questions of majorities. The
whole State at last rests in the lap of the
North; and wherever rival interests clash,
the South falls a helpless minority at the feet
of the powerful majority of the North. This
might be well acquiesced in, he thought, for
the great good of union, so long as ordinary
interests only were at stake. But the great-
est of all interests, to a people, are those of
social life and social institutions ; and these
the South see now attacked. Diametrically
opposite are the views of these sections on this
subject. In the North slavery is looked on
as a crime and an evil, and the only question
that there divides the fanatic and the man of
moderate views is the how and when of its
extinctions. In the South, the relation is re-
garded as one which cannot be destroyed
without subjecting the two races to calamity,
and the section to poverty and desolation ;
and they, in consequence, feel bound, by
every consideration of interest and safety, to
uphold it.

The Senator then alluded to the rise and
proo-ress of the anti-slavery sentiment. Ori-
ginating, he said, in the small and almost
contemptible beginning of Abolitionism, it has,
through the strife of party, become firmly
rooted in the public opinion of the whole
North. In its infancy, slight exertion would
have stifled it, had there been in in the breasts
of the people of those States a genuine love
of the Union. But it was founded on opin-
ions and feelings that found more or less sym-
pathy in the heart of every Northern man.
By toleration it gained strength. Its assist-
ance was courted by rival factions. These

factions have become tainted with its doc-
trines, and now, he feared, the only choice
left the South was abolition or secession.

The Union, Mr. Calhoun continued, was
not to be severed at a single blow. But had
it not trembled under many blows 1 H;\d not
many a stroke been aimed at the cords that
bound us together 1 These cords were not
merely political. They are spiritual, social,
and economical. The ties of religious feeling,
the stoutest far of all, were already rent in
twain, by the severance of the churches that
once covered the Union, with a common inter-
est and a common aim. When these have
parted, embittered sectional feeling will soon
do its worst on the rest.

Nothing, then, he says, will be left to
hold the Union together, except force. But,
surely, that can, with no propriety of lan-
guage, be called a Union, when the only
means by which the weaker is held connected
with the stronger portion is force. It may,
indeed, keep them connected, but the connec-
tion will partake much more of the character
of subjugation, on the part of the stronger,
than the union of free, independent sovereign
States in one confederation, as they stood in
the early stages of the Government, and
which only is worthy of the sacred name of
Union.

Mr. Calhoun, having now traced the dan-
gers that threaten the Union to the universal
discontent of the South; having found the
source of that discontent in their feeling of in-
.security and political weakness ; having traced
that sense of insecurity to the aggressions and
interferences of the North; and having seen
the secret of these aggressions in the destruc-
tion of political equilibrium, and the conscious
strength of the North, then asked how were
those dangers to be averted ? Clearly in the
renewal of the balance of power between the
two sections. He intimated that for this pur-
pose, an amendment of the Constitution might
be necessary. To the plan proposed by the
administration, he utterly objected. Incom-
petent to effect its object, the salvation of the
Union, he thought it, in fact, more exception-
able as regards the rights of the South, than
even the Wilmot Proviso. That what the
latter would effect by direct action of Congress,
the former leaves to time and natural causes
to bring about; while its measures and pro-
positions respecting the admission of Califor-
nia, he looked upon as subversive of the Con-
stitution. He cited precedents of former in-
cipient States, as shewing the direct and pre-
vious action of Congress to be necessary even
where the applicant for admission had more
than the required number of inhabitants. How
much more necessary, then, where the applying
territory had less than that ^number, and its

1850.]

Congressional Summary,

429

present population not even bona fide settlers,
but bands of roving adventurers.

Nothing that has as yet been offered, said Mr.
Calhoun, no plans of compromise, can save
the Union. Nothing could save it but justice ;
simple justice to the South. She had no con-
cessions to make. She had already surrendered
60 much, that slie had little left to surrender ;
and, in conclusion, he asked for this justice
at the hands of the North, since from their
action it alone could come. The South, poli-
tically weak, were necessarily passive, and in
case of refusal of justice, or indirect action in-
volving a refusal, the South would plainly
feel, that before them was submission or re-
sistance. California, then, would become the
test question. He declared emphatically, that
her admission, under the attendant difficulties,
would prove beyond doubt that the real object
of the North was power ; and the South would
be infatuated not to act accordingly.

On the following day, the Senator from
Mississippi, Mr. Foote, on the part of the
South, protested against the ultra vieAvs
of Mr. Calhoun. He disclaimed, energetical-
ly, the position assumed by that gentleman,
that the South demanded, as a sine qua non,
amendment of the Constitution. " I am quite
satisfied," he said, " with the existing provi-
sions of the Constitution, if we can but secure
their faithful enforcement. 1 am for the Con-
stitution and its guarantees. It is not a
new Constitution, nor an amended Constitu-
tion, for which I have been all along contend-
ing. The strong ground of the South has
been that we seek only what the Constitution
entitles us to command ; we ask but justice
under the Constitution, and that protection
and safely which its provisions were intended
to secure. And, Sir, I am not quite prepared
to quit this strong ground, by asserting that
we of the South will have no settlement of
existing difiiculties, unless we can effect a
modification of the federal compact." He pro-
tested against this requisition of a change in
the Constitution, as at present impossible, and
the demand for which would be almost equi-
valent to pronouncing the Union at an end.

With regard to JMr. Calhoun's sweeping
denunciations of the whole North as hostile to
Southern institutions, he considered such cen-
sure as highly unjust to large portions of the
free States. "Abolitionists," he said, ''are
numerous in most of the States, where slavery
does not exist. Free-soilers, as a political
faction, are still more numerous. There are
thousands of bawling demagogues scattered
through the North, some of whose monstrous
voices are heard in the halls of Congress, who
are constantly avowing the bitterest enmity to
the South, and to Southern institutions. Yet
still, Sir, there are many — yea, I doubt not,
much the larger part of the Democratic por-

tion of the North, and many Whigs besides —
who, though they are not the zealous advo-
cates of slavery, and are unable to appreciate
the manifold advantages, which we hold to
belong to our system of domestic labor, are,
notwithstanding, not hostile to it, in the sense
in which the term has been obviously employ-
ed by the Senator from South Carolina.
What, Sir ! shall we say that those who have
constantly signalized themselves by defend-
ing our domestic institutions against all un-
just assailment ; who are zealous uphold-
ers of the Constitution and all its guarantees ;
who have denounced the Abolitionists from
the first, and who still denounce them ; who
have never affiliated with the free-soilers, and
whose sturdy blows have consigned VVilmot
provisionism, and all its ill-fated advocates
to defeat and to disgrace ; — are these the ene-
mies to our constitutional rights 1 Are these
the persons justly accused of being hostile to
the institution which they have thus defend-
ed 1 No, Sir, no. There are statesmen in
the North, to whom the South is as much in-
debted for the defence of our rights, as to any
of her own sons." Mr. Foote then alluded
to the recent Union meetings at New York
and Philadelphid, and the resolutions there
adopted, which would have done no discredit,
he said, to any city of the South, and which
he, with the exception of a single one, should
have voted for most enthusiastically. The
letters, too, of the Senators of New York and
Michigan, (Messrs. Cass and Dickenson,)
read at those meetings, he predicted, would
be received with enthusiasm and gratitude
throughout the whole South.

On the following Thursdaj", Mr. Webster
addressed the Senate as follows :

He spoke to-day, he said, not as a Massa-
chusetts man, nor as a Northern man, but as
a member of the Senate of the United States ;
of a body whose value was shewn in periods
like the present, and to Avhich the nation looks
with confidence for wisdom, moderation, and
stability. The times were troubled. He did
not aflect to be fit to hold the helm in the. poli-
tical storm ; but he had a duty before him,
which he should perform truthfully, fearfully
and hopefully.

I speak to-day, he said, for the preservation
of the Union.

Mr. Webster then alluded to the sudden
and extraordinary events that led to the present
crisis : to the war declared against Mexico ;
to the piercing of that country, and occupation
of her capital by our troops, and of her sea-ports
by our marine ; to the treaty thereupon nego-
tiated, and the cession to the United States of
a vast territory, reaching from the Pacific and
the mountains of California to the frontiers of
Texas. The opening of the sea-board of the
Pacific to our citizens, he continued, created a

430

Congressional Summary,

[April,

rush of emigration. The California mines
were then discovered, and adventurers poured
forth in thousands. In a few short years this
"wilderness has received a population that makes
it a subject of legislative consideration to pro-
vide for California a proper territorial govern-
ment. This was not done, and the colonists
found it necessary to form a local government
for themselves. They have sent Senators
and representatives who present the Con.stitu-
tion of the infant State of California, and de-
sire its immediate recognition by the United
States. This Constitution contains an express
prohibition of slavery ; and it is this prohibi-
tion which has chiefly raised the present
dispute as to the propriety of her admis-
sion.

No one will deny, the Senator continued,
that whatever were the reasons for the war
with Mexico, its purpose was the acquisition
of territory ; and no one will deny, that such
territory was fully expected from its geogra-
phical position, to be the acquisition of the
slaveholding"interest of this country. Events
have turned out otherwise, and hence the agi-
tation of the vexed question which has so fre-
quently divided our councils.

Mr. Webster then reviewed historically
the question of slavery, from its rise in the
earliest ages, to the present day. We find it,
he said, among the earliest oriental nations.
It existed among the Jews ; their theocratic
government made at least no injunction against
it. It existed among Greeks ; and the in-
genious philosophy of that people justified it
on precisely the same grounds assumed at this
day, viz. the original inferiority of the black
race to the white. The Senator thought the
Greek logic faulty. The Romans, also, owned
this institution, but by a higher philosophy,
argued its justification, and rightly too, from
the conventional law of that day, which pla-
ced the life and labor of captives of war at
the absolute disposal of the captor. Chris-
tianity found slavery in full vigor, and no
word of reprobation is met in its teachings.

It is, then, upon the general tendencies and
abstract lawfulness of slavery, the Senator
continued, that arises the wide difference of
o])inion between the two sections of our
country. The North consider that, if not un-
der the direct injunction of Christianity, it is,
nevertheless, against its spirit ; that it is the
offspring of might, not right, and conduces to
oppression and selfishness. The South, ac-
customed to this relation from birth, see in it
a development of the finest feelings of our
nation. And thus, thousands of men of tender
consciences, fully as sensitive in the South as
in the North, are led to the most opposite con-
clusions.

In this way the question of slavery has at
last laid hold of the religious sentiments of

mankind ; and wherever discussion arises on
such sentiments, all history shews that undue
warmth must be expected. In disputes of this
kind, men are always to be found who believe
that right and wrong can be demonstrated with
mathematical clearness ; men who think what
is plain to themselves, must be equally so to
the moral perception of their neighbors ; men,
too, who in the pursuit of one duty, will tram-
ple on every other duty in its way ; men who
will not wait for the slow progress of moral
causes in the cure of moral disease. In this
class, with its want of charity and narrowness
of mind, do we find the leaven that is now fer-
menting the Union.

Partly, then, from the spread of this Phari-
saical spirit in the North, and partly in the
South from the uprising of a new element,
namely, that of interest^ public opinion has un-
dergone a complete change} changed North
and changed South. At the tim.e of the adop-
tion of the Constitution, ^there was little in-
vective against slavery as a crime 5 but all
deplored it as an evil. None more so than the
men of the South. With truth and with bitter-
ness, they ascribed it to the selfish policy of
the mother country, who, to favor the navi-
gator, entailed this blight on the colony. They
that dwelt in its midst, were strongest in its
execration. A blight they called it, a curse, a
mildew. In efforts to prevent its spread, none
were more active than the statesmen of the
South. The objection to the use of the term
slave in the written Constitution, was urged
by a Southern man. Southern men objected
to the great length of time (twenty years) to
which the importation of slaves was limited by
law; and all. North and South, united in the
hope, that with such limitation, slavery would
at last die out, and the Constitution in reality,
as well as in name, know no slave.

Mr. Webster then alluded to the position
taken by Mr. Calhoun, that the ordinance of
1787, prohibiting slavery from all the terri-
tory then owned by the United States, was
the first of a series of acts calculated to en-
feeble the South. If to enfeeble the South,
how, then, was it passed with the entire con-
currence of the South I There it stands — the
hand and seal of every Southern member of
Congress, prohibiting slavery north-west of
the Ohio ! the vote of every So«thern member
of Congress, limiting the importation of slaves
in the expressed hope that slavery would there-
by become extinct ! What, then, has produced
this mighty change ? What has made the
blight a blessing, the blast a wholesome dew ?
Mr. Webster attributed it all to the magic
influence of cotton. When the Constitution
was adopted, this great staple was hardly
known. The first ship-load sent to Great
Britain was refused admission into her ports,
under the treat)', because the United States, it

1850.]

Congressional Nummary.

431

was said, raised no cotton. And now that the
South, from raising only ordinary agricultural
products, has become the great producer of this
staple, she naturally wishes to extend the area
of production. Mx. Webster attributed no-
thing dishonorable to his fellow-citizens of the
South. Their motives were mixed.

He then spoke of the charge of Mr. Cal-
houn, that not time and natural causes, but
the act of man had increased, and at the ex-
pense of the South, the prosperity and rapid
growth of the North. If this even were so,
he asked, was it time, or the act of man that
opened to that sectional interest, Alabama and
Florida, the States of Louisiana, Arkansas and
Missouri 1 The North may have acted weak-
ly : they may have been out-generalled ; it is
possible, also, that they were generous and fra-
ternal ; but from whatever cause it arose, the
direction of our government has from first to
last been under Southern auspices. The event
bears out what no one acquainted with [the
history of our legislation will deny, and as the
last of these acts of men, not time, we have
illimitable Texas added as a great slave-terri-
tory, pledged as such by the most ample guar-
anties of law — and now, he continued, this
final act of Northern Legislation for Southern
interests, has closed the whole chapter, and set-
tled the whole account, for at this moment there
is not a foot of territory belonging to the United
States, that is not stamped as slave or free
territory by the law of the land, or by a law
higher than that of the land. Texas, to her
farthest boundary, has been, by the resolu-
tions of annexation, admitted as a slave State,
and her territory as slave territory. The faith
of the Government has been pledged thereto,
and that faith, he, for one, meant to uphold.

"Those resolutions," said jNIr. Webster,
" stipulate and enact that all Texas south 36°
30', — nearly all of it — shall be admitted into
the Union as a slave State, and that new States
shall be made out of it, and that such States as
are formed out of that portion of Texas lying
south of 36'' 30', may come in as slave States
to the number of four, in addition to the States
then in existence, and admitted at that time
bj' these resolutions. I know no mode of le-
gislation which can strengthen that. I know
no mode of recognition that can add a tittle of
weight to it. I listened respectfully to the
resolutions of my honorable friend from Ten-
nessee, (jNIr. Bell.) He proposed to recognize
that stipulation with Texas. But any addi-
tional recognition would weaken the force of
it ; because it stands here on the ground of a
contract for consideration. It is a law found-
ed on a contract with Texas, and destined to
carry that contract into effect. A recognition
founded on any consideration and any con-
tract would not be so strong as it now stands
on the face of the resolution. And, therefore,

I say again that, so far as Texas was concern-
ed—the whole of Texas south of 36" 30' wliich
I suppose embraces all the slave territory —
there is no land, not an acre, the character of
which is not established by law, a law which
cannot be repealed without the violation of a
contract."'

But how came the faith of the Government
to be thus pledged "? How came it that with-
in this body, in spite of its preponderance of
Northern votes, this Southern measure was
carried 1 By the aid, by the votes of that very
Northern Democracy that now are raising the
hue and cry of free soil. The very men that
fastened slavery on new and boundless regions
are now agitating the country with the wrongs
of the slave. The very faction that was hand-
and-glove with the slaveholder, are now taking
to themselves the title of the free-soil party.
They have saddled upon us this unfortunate
compact with slavery, and now leave to us
the odium of carrying out its provisions ; and
carried out they must be ; for I know, he said,
of no way, by which this Government acting
in good faith, can relieve itself of a stipulation
and a pledge, by any honest course of legisla-
tion whatever.

Texas then, he continued, being marked out
by the law of the land, for the forced labor of
the black man, a higher law, that of nature,
destines California and New Mexico for the
free labor of the white. Of Asiatic formation
and character, the barren mountains and de-
serts of these countries possess no attractions
for the slaveholder who seeks rich soil, and
well-watered plains.

If, then, all legislation to entail slavery on
New jNIexico would be useless, equally useless
and ill-judged would be any legislation or
Wilmot Proviso, for its prevention. Useless,
for it cannot strengthen the fiat of God ; ill-
judged, for it would be felt by the South as a
taunt, as an evidence of the conscious power
of the North. He wished to inflict no gratui-
tous insult on Southern feelings : and in that
spirit should vote against the Wilmot Proviso.

Mr. Webster then spoke of the growing
exasperation between the free and slave
States ; of their mutual reproaches and grie-
vances, real and imaginary. One grievance
the South complained of, and with justice :
the unwillingness of individuals and legisla-
tures at the North to perform their Constitu-
tional duties in regard to the return of fugi-
tive slaves. And he put to all the sober and
sound minds of the North, as a question of
morals and conscience, what right have they
to embarrass the free exercise of rights secured
by the Constitution to the slave owner "? He
referred _also to the frequent instructions of
Northern Legislatures to members of Congress,
on the means of abolishing slavery in the
States. He thought State Legislatures had

482

Congressional Summary.

[April,

nothing to do with that question^ neither did
he believe in the principle of instructions.
Wherever the interests of his own State were
not adverse to the general interests of the
country, he should obey her instructions with
gladness as a duty; but wherever the question
affected the interests of other parts of the
Union, he should feel called upon to act, not
as a citizen of any particular State, but as a
member of the General Government.

Another grievance complained of by the
South, was the abolition societies of the North.
He did not deny to these societies conscientious
motives. He thought them composed of good
and honest men, but with excited feelings and
perverted views. Their philanthropy did
harm to its objects. Their well-intentioned
efforts drew tighter the bonds of the slave.

The North., too, was not without its list of
injuries, and sources of unkind feeling. The
change of Southern sentiment and action since
the adoption of the constitution ; the violent
tirades against Northern character and insti-
tutions; the scornful comparisons of slave
labor, with all its abject ignorance, with the
educated and independent white laborer.

" Why, who are the laborers of the North ?"
he asked. "They are the North. They are
the people who cultivate their own farms \^ath
their own hands; freeholders, educated men,
independent men. Let me say, sir, that five-
sixths of the whole property of the North is
in the hands of the laborers of the North ;
they cultivate their farms, they educate their
children, they provide the means of indepen-
dence ; if they are not freeholders, they earn
wages, these wages accumulate, are turned
into capital, into new freeholds, and small
capitalists are created. That is the case.
And what can these people think, when even
Senators undertake to prove that the absolute
ignorance and abject slavery of the South is
more in conformity with the high purposes of
immortal, rational, human beings, than the
educated, the independent free laborers of the
North ?"

So far as these mutual grievances are mat-
ters of law, they should and can be redressed.
So far as they are matters of opinion, a more
charitable and fraternal feeling is their only
cure.

Mr. Webster then alluded to the project of
disunion. He scouted the idea of peaceable
secession. Secession there might be, but it
would be violent. It would be revolution.
The foundations of order and society would be
overturned. And how was it to be done ? Where
was the line to be drawn 1 The States plant-
ed along the banks of the Mississippi and its
tributaries, and made one nation by that great
stream, — how were they to be forced asunder "?

" What has the wildest enthusiast to say on
the possibility of cutting off that river, and

leaving free States at its source and its branches,
and slave States down near its mouth ? Pray,
sir ; pray, sir, let me say to the country that
these things are worthy of their pondering and
of their consideration. Here, sir, are five
millions of freemen in the free States north of
the river Ohio ; can any body suppose that
this population can be severed by a line that
divides them from the territory of a foreiga
and an alien government, down somewhere,
the Lord knows where, upon the lower banks
of the Mississippi "? What would become of
Missouri ? Will she join the arondissement of
the slave States '? Shall the man from the
Yellowstone and the Mad River be connected
in the new republic with the man who lives
on the southern extremity of the Cape of
Florida ? Sir, I am ashamed to peruse this
line of remark. I dislike it ; I have an utter
disgust for it. I would rather hear of natural
blasts and mildews, war, pestilence and fam-
ine, than to hear gentlemen talk of secession.
To break up ? to break up this great govern-
ment ; to dismember this great country ; to
astonish Europe by an act of folly, such as
Europe for two centuries has never beheld in
any government ? No, sir ; no sir ! there
will be no secession. Gentlemen are not se-
rious when they talk of secession."

In conclusion, Mr. Webster stated, that
any scheme proposed by Southern gentle-
men for the mitigation of the admitted evils of
slavery, would meet with his full consent and
hearty concurrence. The territory ceded by
Virginia to the United States, has yielded to
its treasury eighty millions of dollars. Should
the residue be sold at the same rate, the ag-
gregate sum would exceed two hundred mil-
lions of dollars. Out of this sum of money could
be defrayed the expenses of a large scheme
of colonization, to be carried on by the Go-
vernment, by which means the South could re-
lieve itself of their free colored population.
Any proposal of this sort would meet with his
full co-operation.

"And now," said, he, " instead of speaking of
the possibility or utility of secession, let us ra-
ther cherish those hopes that belong to us ; let
us devote ourselves to those great objects that
are fit for our consideration and our action ;
let us raise our conceptions to the magnitude
and the importance of the duties that devolve
upon us ; let our comprehension be as broad
as the country for which we act, our aspira-
tions as high as its certain destiny ; let us not
be pigmies in a case that calls for men.
Never did there devolve on any generation of
men, higher trusts than now devolve upon us
for the preservation of this Constitution, and
the harmony and peace of all who are destined
to live under it. It is a great, popular Con-
stitutional Government, guarded by legislation,
by law, by judicature, and defended by the

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

43S

whole affections of the people. No monarch-
ical throne presses these States together : no
iron chain of despotic power encircles them.
They live and stand upon a Government pop-
ular in its form, representative in its charac-
ter, founded upon principles of equality, and
calculated, we hope, to last forever. In all its
history it has been beneficent ; it has trodden
down no man's liberty ; it has crushed no
State. It has been in all its influences, be-
nevolent, beneficent ; promoting the general
glory, the general renown, and, at last, it has
received a vast addition of territory. Large
before, it has now, by recent events, become
vastly larger. This republic now extends
with a vast breadth, across the whole conti-
nent. The two great seas of the world wash
the one and the other shore.

On Monday, March 11, Mr. Seward hav-
ing the floor, addressed the Senate. He com-
menced his remarks by reviewing the objec-
tions raised to the admission of California.

First., California comes among us without
previous consent of Congress, and, therefore,
by usurpation. This allegation he thought
not strictl)^ true, for we tore her from among
her sister Mexican States, and stipulated to
admit her with due speed among the States of
the Union. But still, by the letter, she does
come without previous consent of Congress.
So did Michigan ; and Congress waived the
irregularity and sanctioned the precedent.
This precedent is strengthened by the greater
hardships in the case of California. With
Michigan, Congress had merely neglected to
take the census. With California, she neg-
lected to act up to the treaty. Michigan had
a civil government. California was under
military rule; and military governments are
against the genius of our institutions, oppress-
ive to the governed, and full of danger to the
parent State. Would those, he asked, who
cite this objection, be better pleased with a ter-
ritorial charter, which could in no ways be
granted without an inhibition of Slavery?

The second objection, pursued the Senator,
is that California had marked her own boun-
daries. But none had been marked for her
either by previous law or prescription. She
was obliged to assume them, since without
boundaries she must have remained unorga-
nized.

A third objection is raised to the great size
of this new State. But there is already one
State in the Union of greater magnitude than
California. She may be divided, too, with
her own consent; and this is all the security
we have against the preponderance of
Texas. Her only neighbor, Oregon, makes no
complaint of encroachment, and the advantage,
if any, proceeding from her vast area, will be
with the rest of the Union ; for the larger the
Pacific States, the less will be their relative

power in the Senate. Her boundaries, too,
are in accordance with the natural features of
the country ; and the territory circumscribed,
contiguous and compact.

The fourth objection to her admission is,
that no previous census had been taken, and
no laws existed prescribing the suffrage and
apportionment of representatives in conven-
tion. But she was left without a census, and
without such laws. She was left to act ab
initio. Some of the electors, too, it is said,
may have been aliens. The PilgriTi Fathers
commenced in like manner on board the May
Flower ; and when they landed on Plymouth
Rock were in like manner aliens. But this
objection will surely fall, if her Constitution
is satisfactory to herself and to the United
States. Not a murmur of discontent has fol-
lowed it from California ; and as regards our-
selves, we find that her boundaries have been
assigned with discretion, that the public do-
main has been secured to the General Govern-
ment, that the representation is just and equal,
and that the Constitution is thoroughly re-
publican. In fact, it is this very republican-
ism, untainted by the aristocratic element of
slavery, that is the real objection with her
opponents.

The fifth objection is, that California comes
in under executive influences ; first in her
coming in as a free State ; and second, in her
coming in at all. The first charge is unsup-
ported by proofs, and is peremptorily denied.
The second is true, and a venial fault it is for
the Executive to wish to resign power and
influence into the hands of regular legislative
authority.

These objections, the Senator continued
are all, it will be seen, technical ; not founded
in the law of nature or of nations, surely not
in the Constitution ; for the Constitution pre-
scribes no form of proceeding in the admission
of new States, but leaves the whole to the dis-
cretion of Congress. " Congress may admit
new States." But it is said we should now
establish new precedents for the future. This
caution comes too late. It should have been
exercised when we annexed Texas, when we
hurried into the war with Mexico, when we
ratified the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo. We
may establish precedents at pleasure, but our
successors will use their pleasure in following
them. States and nations certainly follow
not precedent, either in the time or the circum-
stances of their birth. California sprang from
the head of the nation, full-armed and full-
grown, and ripe for affiliation.

Having now reviewed the objections, the
Senator proceeded to give his reasons for the
admission of California. Well-established
calculations prove that, one hundred years
hence, the aggregate population of this nation
will be two hundred millions, or one-fourth of

434

Congressional Simimary.

[April,

the present population of the globe. This is
tased upon the present rate of increase. But
the mountains of California contain gold and
silver, and those of New England granite;
and we are safe in affirming, that long before
that maximum of numbers shall be reached,
our possessions on the Pacific, from their
swifter advance of population, will be peopled,
and politically and socially matured. Shall,
then, this great people, one in origin, religion,
interests, sympathies and hopes, be one also
politically, or broken into two conflicting and
hostile republics ? Shall this new world, con-
taining all the elements of wealth and of em-
pire, marked out by Providence for the devel-
opment of man's self-control and self-govern-
ment, renovating Europe on the one hand,
and the decreptitude of Asia on the other,
shall it desert its duties, and cast away its
magnificent destinies iu the dissensions of di-
vided sway"?

On the decision of the present day, the pres-
ent hour, hangs the perpetual unity of this
empire.

California is already a State, complete and
fully appointed. She never can be less. She
never can shrink back into a federal depend-
ency. Shall she then be taken into the bosom
of the Union, or shall she be driven from among
us "? Reject her now, and she will never re-
turn. Forced apart by our policy, would in-
dependence have no charms for her % Are
not power and aggrandizement before her on
the coast of the Pacific % Your armies cannot
pass the desert, nor over the remote and nar-
row isthmus, nor around the Cape of Storms.
Your navies might reach her, but her mines
would turn them to her own defence. Oregon
would go with her, and thus the entire Pacific
coast would drop from your grasp. And
Avhere the long line should be drawn, divid-
ing the empires of the West and the East,
would depend neither on California nor on
ourselves. The interests and convenience of
the agricultural masses, filling up this vast
area, would decide that question. Trade is
now the God of boundaries; his decrees no
man can foretell.

But^ it is said, let California be admitted,
but attended by a compromise of questions
arising out of slavery. All compromise, the
Senator argued, was wrong and inconsistent
with real virtue and sincerity of purpose — and
what, too, are the equivalents such compro-
mise ofTers ? Power, freedom, wealth on the
Pacific ; bondage in the rest of the new terri-
tory, and in the District of Columbia ; and
stringent laws for the arrest of fugitive slaves
in the free States. Human freedom and rights
for gold.

But he should object, Mr. Seward pursued,
to the compromise, on the score of the incon-
gruity ^of the interests to be compromised.

California should be admitted, being a free
State ; she also should be received, had she
been a slave State. This, the circumstances
of her rise, and the inevitable dismemberment
resulting from refusal, would render just and
necessary. The questions connected with
slavery, thus interposed, are consequently col-
lateral, and present false issues.

Moreover, said Mr. Seward, I cannot con-
sent to the compromise, because this compro-
mise fails to meet the whole claims of the
South. They demand the restoration of an
equilibrium between the slave and free sec-
tions. Such equilibrium, he insisted, never
did, and never can exist. Every political
balance of power requires a physical basis.
The basis, in the present case, must be an
equality of territory, and a proximate equality
in the number of slaves and freemen. These
the South have irrecoverably lost. Were it
even practicable, without this equality, it
would change our national democracy into a
simple confederacy, in which the minority
have a veto on the majority.

Nor would success attend the details of this
compromise. Mr. Seward went on to speak
of the proposed alteration of the law concern-
ing fugitives from labor.

" I shall speak on this," he said, " as on all
subjects, with due respect, but yet frankly
and without reservation. The Constitution
contains only a compact which rests for its
execution on the States. Not content with
this, the slave States induced legislation by
Congress ; and the Supreme Court of the
United States have virtually decided that the
whole subject is within the province of Con-
gress, and exclusive of State authority. Nay,
they have decided that slaves are to be regard-
ed not merely as persons to be claimed, but
as property and chattels to be seized without
any legal authority or claim whatever. The
compact is thus subverted by the procurement
of the slave States. With what reason, then,
can they expect the States, ex gracia, to re-
assume the obligations from which they
caused those States to be discharged. I say,
then, to the slave States, you are entitled to
no more stringent laws ; and such laws would
be useless. The inefficiency of the present
statute, he said, lay not in its leniency, but
in its violation of the primary laws of
God. It made hospitality a crime, and the
human being a chattel; and it denied the citi-
zen a,ll the safeguards of personal freedom, to
impede the escape of the bondsman. With
respect to the other concession, proposed for
the purchase of freedom in California, the bill
of peace for slavery in the District of Colum-
bia, ]\Ir. Seward avowed himself uncompro-
misingly opposed to such peace. Congress
had absolute power in the matter, and he
could not see that any implied obligation ex-

1850.]

Congressio7ial Summary,

435

isted not to use that power. He saw no rea-
son to hope for such emancipation, but he
should vote for the measure whenever pro-
posed, and was willing to appropriate any
means necessary to carry it into execution.

Mr. Seward then cautioned Senators
against ultra measures, either for the recovery
oi the fugitive, or against the inhibition of
slavery in territorial charters. The temper of
the people might be tried too far. The spring,
if pressed too hard, would give a recoil that
would not leave here one servant who knew
his master's will and did it not.

He then spoke of the suggested compromise
of boundary between Texas and New Mexico.
This was a question of legal right and title,
and it was due to national dignity and justice
that it be kept separate from compromises of
mere expediency, and should be settled by it-
self alone. In connexion witli this question,
he stated, he could not agree with the Senator
from Massachusetts with regard to the obli-

fation of Congress to admit four new slave
tates from Texas territory. When once
formed, these States can come in as free or
slave States at their own choice ; but such
formation depends entirely on the will of Con-
gress. He denied the Constitutionality of the
annexation of Texas. He found no authority
in the Constitution of the United States for the
annexation of foreign territory by a resolution
of Congress, and no power adequate to the
purpose, but the treaty-making power of the
President and Senate.

Another objection to compromise, he con-
tinued, arises out of the principle on which
the demand for compromise rests. That prin-
ciple assumes the classification of the States as
Northern and Southern, as slave and free
States. Severally equal, the classes must be
equal. To each of these classes, the new ter-
ritory, being a common acquisition, falls in
equal proportions.

On what, then, does this argument for the
equality of the States rest ] On the syllogism
that all men are by the law of nature and na-
tions equal ; and States are aggregations of
individual men, and thereby equal. But if
all men are equal, slavery with its claims,
falls to the ground. You answer, the Consti-
tution recognizes properly in slaves. But this
Constitutional recognition must be void, for it
is repugnant to the laws of nature and of na-
tions, on which the Constitution is itself found-
ed. He denied, too, that the Constitution
recognized slaves. It never mentions slaves
as slaves, much less as chattels, but as per-
sons. That this recognition of ^them as per-
sons, was designed, is a historical fact.

But granting the original equality of the
States, and granting the recognition of sla-
very, still the argument fails. The Constitution

is not the Constitution of the States, but of the
people of the United States.

There is another aspect, he then said, in
which this principle of compromise must be
examined. These boundless Western domains
are ours ; but ours only in trust for our fellow
men. They are the birthright of mankind.
Shall we who are founding institutions for
future generations, shall we who know by
experience the wise and just, and are free to
choose ,them, and to reject the erroneous and
unjust, shall we fasten bondage on countless
millions, or permit it by our sufferance to be
established 1

Mr. Seward then commented on arguments
founded on extraneous considerations. The
first of these is, that Congress has no power to
legislate on the subject of slavery within the
territories. But Congress, he argued, ??iai/ ad-
mit new States. It follows that Congress may
reject new States. The greater includes the
less; and, therefore, Congress may impose
conditions of admission. The right, too, to
legislate and administer justice in regard to
property is assumed in every territorial char-
ter; and if to legislate concerning property,
why not concerning personal rights'? and
freedom is a personal right.

But granting, it is said, the right, sliU
legislation is unnecessary, for climate and
sterility, the physical laws of God, lay a
stronger injunction on slavery than any laws
of man. Have climate and sterility, he asked,
barred out slavery from arctic Russia ? Did
it not once brood over the length and breadth
of Europe '\ and was not the enslaved race
our own, and such as our own, the vigorous
Anglo-Saxon, instead of the docile African ?
The laws of God may be transgressed.

"Sir," said he, "there is no climate un-
congenial to slavery. It is true, it is'less pro-
ductive than free labor in many Northern
countries. But so it is less productive than
free white labor in even tropical climates.
Labor is quick in demand in all new countries.
Slave labor is cheaper than free labor, and will
go first into new regions; and wherever it
goes, it brings labor into dishonor, and, there-
fore, free white labor avoids competition with
it. Sir, I might rely on climate if I had not
been born in a land where slavery existed ;
and this land was all of it North of the fortieth
parallel of latitude; and, if I did not know the
struggle it has cost, and which is yet going on
to get complete relief from the institution and
its baleful consequences. I desire to propound
this question to those who are now in favor
of dispensing with the Wilmot Proviso — was
the ordinance of 1787 necessary or not ? Ne-
cessary, we all agree. It has received too
many eulogiums to be now decried as an idle
and unnecessary thing, and yet that ordinance

436

Congressional Summary.

[April,

extended the inhibition of slavery from the
37th to the 40th parallel of north latitude, and
now we are told that the inhibition named is
unnecessary anywhere north of 36o 30.' " We
are told that we may rely upon the laws of
God, which prohibit slavery north of that line,
and that it is absurd to re-enact the laws of
God. Sir, there is no human enactment, which
is just, that is not a re-enactment of the law
of God. The Constitution of the United States,
and the Constitution of every State are full of
such re-enactments. Wherever 1 find a law
of God, or a law of nature disregarded, or in
danger of being disregarded, then I shall vote
to reaffirm it with all the sanction of the civil
authority. But I find no authority for the
position that climate prevents slavery any-
where. It is to the indolence of mankind, and
not the natural necessity, that introduces sla-
very in any climate."

Finally, Mr. Seward thought too much
weight might be attached to the solemn ad-
monitions of the South concerning the disso-
lution of the Union. Their violence, he said,
was natural in a losing party who saw their
side of the scales kick the beam. But there
was a love of his country in the breast of eve-
ry American citizen, which sectional feelings
might dim, but never destroy. He knows no
other country and no other sovereign. He
has life, liberty, and property, precious affec-
tions and hopes for himself treasured up in
the ark of the Union. Let those, then, he
concluded, who distrust the Union, make com-
promises to save it. He had no such fears
himself, and consequently should vote for the
admission of California, directly, without con-
ditions, without qualifications, and without
compromise.

As a commentary on the above speeches,
we give the following abstract of a letter pub-
lished in a Mississippi paper. It shews that
even peaceable secession will have its attend-
ant dangers to the South ; and that forces are
now at work to lead a Southern confederacy
to subsequent disunion and farther secession.
The writer asks if their State laws are ample
for the proper protection of property ? Are
their individual interests sufficiently guarded,
in case that direst of calamities, a separation
of these United States, should occur in the
pending contest on the Wilmot Proviso 1 Is
the farther introduction of slaves from other
States, politic or safe, and is not the prohibi-
tion of such farther introduction demanded
both on the score of individual and of State in-
terest, and as concerns the permanent legiti-
mate weal of the Southern domestic institu-
tion ? The stability of property depends on
its uniform value and proper protection by
law. Slave property above all others, is con-
sidered the most delicate and most in need of

such protection. To unsettle its stability,
would be to destroy or depreciate its value.
Any rash measure tending to destroy its do-
mestic feature is to be deprecated ; and this
can only be preserved by maintaining its
value. On these depend its permanence. On
its permanence, the destiny of the Southern
States.

Out of the fifteen slaveholding States, two,
Delaware and Maryland, are, in any material
sense, useless to the rest ; and, from the course
taken by the Senators of Missouri and Ken-
tucky, we are led to infer, that these States
are distracted, and emancipation not distant.
A proof and a consequence of this is found in
the fact, that droves of slaves, by hundreds
and thousands, are now on their way from the
latter State, to this and others of the cotton
and sugar growing States. Now, is it, this
writer proceeds to say, the interest of Missis-
sippians to encourage this state of things ?
Shall the domestic character of the institution
be degraded, and its intrinsic value be suffered
to depreciate by the sudden introduction of sur-
plus slaves from other States "? Shall our pre-
sent effective and happy municipal regulations
for the treatment and management of slaves
be uprooted, and Mississippi converted into a
camp, paraded daily by Provost guards and
patrols to prevent insurrection ? Thousands
of wretched, despairing human creatures, torn
rudely from home, from family, and from cher-
ished local associations, will be driven in up-
on us in manacled gangs, and will soon infect
those now living here with their rancorous and
seditious spirit. We cannot at this day throw
aside all considerations of humanit)'' in the
vain attempt to display an overwrought zeal
in behalf of our cherished institution. Its
worst enemies are they who abuse it. Its real
friends are not dead to all sensations of sym-
pathy as regards the family attachments ^and
social condition of our negroes.

And what will be the result ? The picture
here contemplated, the writer continues, brings
before the mind the frightful scenes of the
British and French West India Islands.
Daily apprehensions, hourly vigilance, jealous
suspicions, groups of white men, shrinking
with fear, hordes of sullen and desperate
blacks — these are the ground-work of that
wretched scenery. And shall such things be
seen in Mississippi ? Shall the horizon be
darkened with a cloud charged with such per-
nicious elements ? Shall her property be cut
down to one-half its value, that speculators
and traders only shall flourish % To this one
fact, the writer attributed the apparent mys-
tery of the impoverishment and unimproved
face of a State, exporting, annually, nigh
twenty millions worth of products. It is no-
torious, he says, that in Mississippi there is

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

437

less to captivate the eye of a visitor, less to
ensure permanent local attachments, fewer
proud associations, less to ofi'er by way of
emulous comparison, and less to invite availa-
ble investments, than in any other Southern
State. Nothing but the character of the peo-
ple sustains her position, and commands re-
spect. Nor must this state of things be attri-
buted alone to financial derangement, or mis-
management. The cause is found in the
source above suggested. Of the aggregate
returns from the sale of her products, one-
half is disbursed on New Orleans, or Mobile,
and the other half is carried off by negro tra-
ders from Tennessee, Virginia, or North Caroli-
na. This is destructive beyond compensation,
and will, in the end, beggar the State and its
citizens. But, apart from pecuniary considera-
tions, the writer urges, is it politic, or safe,
under present circumstances, to allow the far-
ther introduction of slaves within this State 1
We are threatened with dissolution of the
Union. Congress is convulsed, and a kind of
demi-revolution seems preparing. Should not
the aggrieved States, then, contemplating the
possibility of secession, be ready, at all
points, for the result 1 Should not ftlississip-
pi pause in her deceptive and profitless policy,
to husband her resources, and expend her
wealth at home ?- In revolutionary times, a
sudden accession of inflammable materials is
dangerous in the extreme. No material is so
inflammable as a horde of slaves, fresh from
the trader's manacles, torn recently from fa-
mily, and home, and early associations,
discontented, corruptible, unreliable, — thrust
suddenly into our midst, ere yet system and
familiarity have reconciled them to their
new homes. These very domestic ties and
feelings form the real value of our insti-
tution. The blacks have them, and every in-
telligent planter sedulously cultivates them.
In times like this, then, harshly and rudely
to sever them, is there no danger in such a
cx)urse ?

Finally, the writer asks if it is not the in-
terest, politically, of his own State, to hold
those States, which now so strongly manifest
a desire to emancipate, to the slave interest,
by refusing them opportunities of sale and
profit. They will certainly hesitate, before
they resort to colonization or manumission,
and he urges the enforcement of the laws
against the importation of slaves, which have
been suffered to become a dead letter.

Disunion received the following severe re-
buke at the hands of Governor Brown of Flo-
rida. That gentleman had been invited by the
Florida delegation in Congress, to use his
official authority in organizing apian of repre-
sentation for that State in the proposed Nash-
ville convention.

Governor Bkown in reply, disclaimed all

authority for that purpose. He considered
such a convention as revolutionary in its ten-
dency, and directly against the spirit of the
Constitution of the United States, and if the
object of this convention be redress of griev-
ances, would not, he asks, the expression of
an opinion, or a determination by the States in
their sovereign capacity, be calculated to carry
more weight, and command more respect than
the proceedings of an irresponsible convention
of delegates ? But, it is answered, the States
have already acted by reports and resolutions
and addresses ; and the North remains un-
moved. What more then can this convention
effect, unless it is to be considered, and con-
siders itself a revolutionary body 1 " If called
for this end," he says, " 1 most solemnly pro-
test against it. The time has not arrived for
such measures, and I pray God the time may
never arrive. There are, however, restless
spirits among us, who have calculated the
value of the Union, and would sell it for a
mess of pottage. Since the Southern conven-
tion has been projected, a Southern confeder-
ation has been more than dreamed of.''^ He
questioned the expediency of getting up this
convention, before any overt act of agression
had been committed on Southern rights. He
saw, as yet, nothing new or startling in the re-
lation of the slave and free States ; at least
nothing calling for such extraordinary and re-
volutionary measures. For more than fifty
years have abolition petitions been presented
in Congress. Thirty years ago, this identical
Wilmot Proviso question convulsed the Gov-
ernment to its centre. From the time, he
writes, that the slave question first made its
appearance in the North, when it was a
''little cloud like a man's hand," until the pre-
sent moment, when it casts a deep gloom over
the future, it has been one continual conflict of
words between the abolitionists and agitators
and politicians of the North, and the politi-
cians of the South. Time has brought forth no
wisdom — experience no knowledge. But in
spite of mutual bluster and threats, he believed
the Union would safely weather the storm.
He found one assurance of safety in the fact,
that the present chief magistrate of the Union,
was from and of the South ; and he was con-
fident that every encroachment on the bul-
warks of the Constitution, would be by him
met with native energy and resolution.

In conclusion, Governor Brown exhorted the
people ]of the Southern States, .;to look to the
"energetic action of their State Governments to
guard and protect their rights and interests ;
and the members in both halls of Congress, to
meet and resist with prudence and firmness,
every attempt to break down the guards and
compromises of the Constitution, from what-
ever source it may come ; and when driven
to the last trench, and beat down by brute

438

Congressional Summanj.

[April,

force, regardless of right and justice, and when
the executive can, orVill not apply an endur-
ing check, when all the barriers of the Con-
stitution are beaten down, and the South
deprived of her equal right under the Confed-

eration— then will those who have brought
about this state of things have incurred the
guilt and shame of the wanton destruction of
this beautiful form of Government ; and upon
their beads will rest the curse.

■■';'" f' 1^

'iM

1850.]

Critical Notices.

^439

CRITICAL NOTICES.

Maury's Sailing Directions. Notice to Marinera :
By Lieut. W. F. Maury, U. S. N., National
Observatory, Washington. Approved by the
Hon. William Ballard Preston, Secretary of the
Navy ; and published, by authority of Commo-
dore Lewis Warrington, chief of the Bureau
of Ordnance and Hydrography. Washington :
1850.

The peculiar benefits of a National Observatory
are beginning already to bo felt. The attention
of the nation is directed toward it, as toward a
centre, from which nothing crude or unscientific
can emanate. A spirit of exactness and of re-
search is cultivated in the official mind at Wash-
ington, and in the army and navy ; and a respec-
tability and importance is given to the Exact Sci-
ences, by the knowledge that they are the indis-
pensable auxiliaries of the government. Upon this
consideration, every reader can enlarge for himself

Lieut. Maury states, in this quarto pamphlet,
that " every navigator, with the assistance ren-
dered by the Observatory, and here published,
may now calculate and project for the path of
his ship, on an intended voyage, very much
in the same way that the astronomer deter-
mines the path of a comet through the heavens.
There is this difference, however ; the ' Pilot
Chart,' with its data, shows the navigator that, in
pursuing his path on the ocean, head-winds and
calms are to be encountered, and that therefore he
cannot, with certainty, predict the place of his ship
on a given day. He, therefore, m calculating his
path through the ocean, has to go into the doctrine
of chances, and to determine thereby the degree of
probability as to the frequency and extent with
which ho may anticipate adverse winds and calms
by the way."

James Mo ntjoy ; or, I've been Thinking: By A.

S. Roe. New York : D. Appleton & Co.

When a new author takes his place upon the
stage of literature, his first attempt desei-ves some-
thing more at the hands of the critic than a gene-
ral expression of commendation or blame — it de-
serves discrimination. And yet we hardly know
how to give, within the limits of a mere notice,
an adequate idea of the work before us. We will
begin with its faults, hovs'ever, if only to have an
opportunity to make its merits the final object of
our remarks.

The author has unwisely deprived his book of
the advantage of unity of interest. He has too
many leading personages, whose separate adven-
tures engross too much of the readei-'s attention.

Jim Montjoy, the nominal hero, is not so in fact.
He plays a very conspicuous part in the first
scenes ; but as the drama develops itself, he
becomes a secondary character. Nor does any
one personage take his place. And this is the
vital defect of the book. Although the author
has, with considerable art, taken up afterwards the
separate threads of hisnarrative, and combined them
for the catastrophe, yet, for want of a centre of
interest to keep them connected throughout the
work, they divide and fatigue the attention. Some
of the characters, indeed, have the appearance of
copies from living originals. There is an old lamo
sailor, whoso oddities produce a really Corporal
Trim-like effect. But generally, Mr. Roe's paint-
ing of characters belongs to a school that looks
but little to nature for models. The good are too
good ; the bad, too entirely bad. The blemishes
we have noticed are of a serious character in a
work of fiction ; for they are of that class which
mars effect, that main object of art. Yet there are
beauties enough in James Montjoy to redeem
defects even more fatal. The opening chapters,
which relate the adventures of young James with
his brother Ned and his friend Sam Oakum, are
delightful to read. The simplicity of the action
invests the details with an absorbing interest,
which reminds one of Robinson Crusoe on his
island, and is only attainable in works, which re-
late the struggles of unassisted man against natural
obstacles. The style too of this part of the work
is greatly superior to the remainder. It seems to
have been cared for as a labor of love. It is plain,
almost faultless, and well in keeping with the
events of the narrative. As soon as, by the suc-
cess of the boys, and the introduction of new char-
acters, the plot becomes more intricate, much of
the attraction of the tale disappears, together with
much of the author's happiness of manner. Mr.
Roe's style, in the better parts, is of that kind of
which we deemed the secret lost. It has that
quiet, calm beauty, which is felt, rather than seen,
and wins, without striking, leaving upon the mind
a sensation of pleasure, which has stolen in un .
perceived. To give an idea of this style of wri-
ting, definition will not answer — since its merits are
of that very character which baffles definition.
Nor will quotation answer the purpose. A
bucket of water would give a poor idea of
the magnificent effect of the Hudson river in
a landscape. So, of any single passage in this
work, whose beauty consists of a succession of
beauties, constantly following each other, and
gaining strength by accumulation. Unexpected
touches of gentle humor, or gentler pathos, minute.

440

Critical Notices.

[April,

yet unpretending descriptions of charming scenes,
a patient, yet never wearisome attention to de-
tails— these are some of the qualities which en-
chant us in this new author. We cannot refrain
from quoting the apologue, which he has intro-
duced in guise of preface to this book :

" I was once present at a conversation between
a goodly couple, in the old New England time,
touching the fate of one of their sons, just sent
abroad ; he was a pet boy, at least with the old
lady.

" I wish, my dear, that you would write to the
firm of ' What do you call 'em a very particular
letter about our Bill, and let them know just
what he is ; for going so among strangers, the poor
child may have rough treatment, merely because
they don't know his ways."

" I don't think it will do any good."
" Why not, Mr. Blossom ? Surely if the folks
knew how many good things he has about him,
they would be a little tender of him, and not treat
him as though he were a common boy."

" He must take his kicks and cuffs with the
rest of the boys."

" Now, Mr. Blossom !"

" It is just so, wife ; and all the letters in the
world won't alter the matter. He's got to go
through the mill, and his good and his bad will be
known, without our meddling."

" Well, I most wish we had kept him to home."
" He would become rusty here. No, no ; let
him take his chance ; he has gone where he must
sink or swim by his own merits."
" Oh, dear ! what a world it is."
" Yes it IS, wife ; but we can't help it."
" In sending abroad my first begotten, I was al-
most tempted to endeavor to smooth its way with
the public, by explaining its peculiarities, and ask-
ing indulgence for its failings ; but I called to mind
what Mr. Blossom said about his Bill, and so
quietly submit to the decree, that it must ' sink or
swim by its own merits.' "

Moralism and Christianity ; or, Man's Experi-
ence and Destiny : In three Lectures: By
Henry James. New York : J. S. Redfield. 1850.
Three Lectures, of which the first was delivered
in New-York, and published in the Massachusetts
Quarterly. The second was read in Nov. 1849,
in Boston. The third was read and repeated in
New-York, in December of the same year. The
title of the first lecture is " A Scientific statement
of the Christian Doctrine of the Lord, or Divine
Man." The second is entitled " Socialism and
Civilization, in relation to the Development of the
Individual Life." The title of the third is " Mo-
rality and the Perfect Life."

Our author calls the Divine Man, or God's
Image in Creation, by the name of " Artist." His
efi'ort, a very great one, is to show that the Artist
is he who acts wholly from within ; from a pure
and divine ideal of the universe, subjectively, as the
Germans say, or as we say, after them. The ac-
tions of men in civilized society are merely rela-
tive : they are shaped, for the most part, under the
stress of religious and moral obligation. The ac-
tions of the individual are the result of two forces ;
nature, unpelliiig from within, — that is to say " the

free nature of the Artist," which always seeks to
represent in action its own ideal and its ov/n de-
sire— and society and religion, that is to say, usage
and sacred tradition repressing and guiding from
without. The latter forces, for the most part,
triumphing over the individual nature. This
triumph is the triumph of the three kinds of govern-
ment by which society is regulated ; the religious, or
traditional, the civil or political, and the social
or moral, morals being, of course, customary, and
tlieir tone given by society. The complete action
of these three powers, or modes of power, on the
individual life, is what is called civilization, more
or less perfect. Our author is an intellectual rebel
against all the three ; he wishes to rise above
them by substituting something better in their stead.
He wishes to perform that gradual work of crea-
tion which has been going on since the first ap-
pearance of the human race, for many thousand
years, and of which the final fruit and consequence
thus far, is the educated society of Europe and
America. He wishes the individual, by a single
effort, to master every spiritual law of that pro-
gress ; to raise above it, to tread it under foot ; to
substitute a new and peculiar creation of his own,
placing him in a divine and unimpeded relationship
with the entire future of God's providence, and
making him no longer subject to, but a master and
reformer of everything that is established by the
voice of Milleniums, and held in highest venera-
tion by the Heroes and the Sages of all past time.
A citizen of Boston wishes to do all this.

Posthumous WorJcs of Chalmers. Vol. 9th. New-
York : Harper & Brothers. 1850.
This volume consists of prelections, notes and
commentaries on Paley's ' Evidences of Chris-
tianity,' Butler's 'Analogy,' and Hill's 'Lectures
in Divinity.'

That God is the author of the first and faintest
motions toward what is good, was the expressed
belief of this truly religious Theologian. He was
not betrayed by his scientific and mathematical
pursuits, into that cold and fruitless faith which
refers everything to a law or creature of the Divine
will instead of the Divine will itself. See page
115 of this volume.

Atlas : Designed to Illustrate MitchelV s Edition
of tlie Geography of the Heavens: comprising
24 Star charts, exhibiting the relative magni-
tudes, distances, &c., of all the stars, to the Gth
magnitude inclusive. Also Nebuloe, Clusters,
Nebulous stars. Double and Multiple stars. To-
gether with the Telescopic appearance of the
Planets and other remarkable objects in the
Heavens. Compiled by O. M. Mitchell, A. M.
Director of the Cincinnati Observatory. New-
York: Huntington and Savage, 216 Pearl-st.
The publishers have sent us a copy of this most
admirable Atlas, for general purposes the best and
the simplest we have ever seen. The Heavens
are represented in 24 maps ; the stars indicated by
bright white spots on a black ground ; with a
scale of magnitudes, and everything necessary for
the use of the Student or the observer who wishes
to obtain a knowledge of the Heavens. Profes-
sor Mitchell is well known in this country as our

1850.]

Critical Notices.

441

most eloquent lecturer on Astronomy ; and in
Europe and America, both, as an enterprising and
most persevering observer in a science which re-
quires more enthusiasm and selt-devotion in its
votaries, than any other. We have never seen
anything of the kmd so attractive as these maps of
Btars.

Huntington and Savage have sent us a number
of valuable school books of which they are the
publishers. Among them we find room to name
only the following :

The PupWs Guide : by John Russel Webb ;

Webb's Second Header.
Joliti's First Book ; Webb's First Reader.
Woodbury's Youth's Song Book : for Schools,

Classes, and the Social Circle.
Mattison's Elementary Astronomy ; for Academys

and School. Illustrated Edition.

Schmitz and Zum.pt's Classical Series. Cicero's
Select Orations. Philadelphia: Lee and Blan-
chard. 1850.

A small, convenient school-edition of Cicero's
Orations ; with plenty of notes.

A Discourse on the Soul and Instinct Physiologi-
cally distinguished from Materialism. Intro-
ductory to a Course of Lectures on the Insti-
tutes of Medicine. New York University. By
Martyn Paine, A. M., M. D., Proiessor of the
Institutes of Medicine and Materia Medica in
the University of New York. New York :
Edwin H. Fletcher. 1849.

We have had no leisure for the examination of
Dr. Fame's work, but conclude from a rapid sur-
vey of its pages that it will well repay the enquirer
in the profound and difficult subject of which it
treats.-

Uses and Abuses of Air. By John H. Griscom,
M. D., Physician of the New York Hospital.
New York : J. S. Redfield. 1850.

This is a treatise by an experienced Physician,
on the influence of air in sustaining life, and pro-
ducing disease ; with remarks on the ventilation
of houses and the best methods of securing a pure
and wholesome atmosphere in dwellings, churches,
court rooms, work shops and buildings of all
kinds.

A more important topic than the one treated of in
this volume cannot be suggested in the entire range
of regimen and diatetics. Every professional man,
every master of a Hospital, and indeed every
householder, will find instraction of the most im-
portant character in this treatise of Dr. Griscom.
The author shows that a very largo proportion of
the diseases of civilization are produced by the
respiration of an impure atmosphere.

Modern Literature and Literary Men. Being a
second Gallery of Literary Portraits. By Geo.
GiLFiLLAN. D. Appleton &, Co. 1850.

This volume contains sketches by this very pop-
ular author, of twenty-four distinguished authors,

taken from various periodicals. Mr. Gilfillan has
undertaken to be the trumpet blower of the mod-
ern literary world ; he blows a very sweet and
pleasant note ; but, for the most part, always in
the same key. His eulogy sickens by excess.

Cosmos : A Description of the Universe. By
Alexander Von Humboldt. Translated from
the German by E. C. Otte. New York : Har-
per & Brothers. 1850.

As we have published, at different times, two
reviews of this celebrated author, it is unnecessary
to do more than call the attention of the reader
to this new and excellent edition, in two small
and convenient volumes.

The History of the Decline and Fall of the Eo-
man Empire. By Edward Gibbon, Esq. Bos-
ton, Phillips, Samson & Co. 1850.

This is a small octavo, six volume, library edi-
tion, of Gibbon's Decline and Fall, edited by the
Rev. H. H. Milman. A complete index of the
whole work is added, and the first volume has an
excellent engraved likeness of Gibbon. It is the
most convenient edition which has been published
in America.

The Life of John Calvin. Compiled from authen-
tic sources, and, particularly, from his corres-
pondence. By Thomas H. Dyer, with a por-
trait. New York : Harper & Brothers. 1850.
One volume, small octavo.

This volume is cheaply printed for circulating
libraries and popular use.

A Handbook of Modern European Literature.
For the use of Schools and Private Families.
By Mrs. Foster. Pliiladelphia : Lee & Blan-
chard. 1850.

This is a brief sketch — a kind of skeleton histo-
17 — to guide the reader in his choice of authors,
giving the names of the most celebrated of all
modern languages.

Hmne's History of England.

The Publishers, Phillips, Samson & Co., Boston,
have sent us the sixth and concluding volume of
their excellent unabridged edition of Hume's His-
tory of England.

Special Notice. — The present volume is the
concluding one of Hume's History of England,
unabridged. It embraces a very carefully prepar-
ed index to the whole work, which, for purposes
of historical reference, was deemed indispensable.

The above, in conjunction with the " Boston Li-
brary Edition" of Macaulay's continuation of
Hume, is now the only uniform edition of the two
authors published in this country. They are sold
together, or separately, at 62 cents per volume.

The Life and Correspondence of Robert Southey.
In six parts. New York : Harper & Brothers.

1850.

The price of this entire work, an elegant octavo
edition, at twenty-five cents a number, is but one

442

Critical Notices.

[April, 1850.

dollar and a half. It is edited by his son, the
Rev. Charles Cuthbert Southey, M. A. It is com-
posed, in great part, of the letters of Robert South-
ey ; a literary and social correspondence of extra-
ordinary interest.

Memoirs from Beyond the Tomb. By the cele-
brated M. De Chateaubriand. Translated by
an able and conscientious translator, Thomas
Williams, Esq. For sale by Williams & Bro-
thers, OlHce of the Morning Star.

We have before us a number of school books
and class books, sent by the civility of publishers of
wliich we can only give the names and object.
Among these we notice

Historical and Miscellaneous Questions. By

RiCHMAL Mangnall. The first American, from
the 84th London Edition. Embracing the ele-
ments of Mythology, Astronomy, Architecture,
Heraldry, &c., &c., adapted to Schools in the
United States. By Mrs. Julia Lawrence.
With numerous Engravings on wood. D. Ap-
pleton & Co., New York.

Pinneifs Progressive French Eeader. Adapted
to the new method, with Notes and a Lexicon.
New York : Huntington & Savage. 1850.

Companion to Ollendorff's New Method of
Learning the French Language. Dialogues,
and a Vocabulary. D. Appleton & Co., New
York. 1850.

White Jacket ; or. Life in a Man-of-War : by

Herman Melville. Now York : Harper &
Brothers.

This book we have received too latefor perusal.
The chapters we have read, however, decidedly
whet the appetite for more ; and incline us to
think that it will be one of the most popular books
of this world-renowned sea author. The reader

is taken " on board ship," and introduced into its
most minute economy. He is made acquainted
with the real sea-dogs, and, whatever turns up, we
feel assured, is portrayed with all the graphic skill
for which the author is famous.

The Optimist : by Henry T. Tcceerman. New
York: Geo. P. Putnam. 1850.

Mr. Tuckerman as a writer of the quiet and
meditative class always pleases and profits us. Ho
is one of the genuine essayists, of whom this coun-
try has pro duced but few.

The book befo re us consists of a series of essays
on subjects of every day life and literature, and
will, we think, become a favorite volume with
the reading public. It is a beautifully printed
book — as it deseiTCS to be.

The East — Sketches of Travel in Egypt and the
Holy Land : by the Rev. J. A. Sfencer.
New York: Geo. P.Putnam.
This enterprising publisher seems determined, at
whatever cost, to do his part towards gratifying
the insatiable curiosity of the public, in the lands
of antique and sacred lore. This is the third book
on the subject we have had to notice, in a very
short period of time, from his pen. The book be-
fore us we can commend as most pleasant, and
instructive family reading, being in the form of
familiar letters, elegantly illustrated, from original
drawings. The author is a well known scholar,
and, very happily, uses his learning, without pe-
dantry, to illustrate the objects of interest which
he describes in his easy and flowing narrative of
his journeyings in the East. He cannot be said to
have added anything to the discoveries or theories
of the many able writers on the subject, who have
preceded him ; but he carries the reader along
with him, and will enable many to realize the
scenes, reflections, and impressions which crowd
upon the oriental traveller, better than many wri-
ters on the subject, of more pretensions.

-H

loTLa/rcl. (JecLclcryL

OF CHARLESTON, S . C

THE

AMERICAN WHIG EEVIE¥,

No. xxviri.

FOR MAY, 1850

REVIEW OF THE REPORT OF HOxN. THOMAS BUTLER KING

OiN CALIFORNIA.

The government of the United States
cannot be said to have a colonial system,
unless the movements of such a system are
to be seen in the constant acquisition and
organization of new territories.

The expansion of the Republican Empire
requiring the constant addition of new regions
to receive the overflow of population and
emigration, the policy of annexation, —
peaceful and constitutional annexation —
by treaty and by purchase, may be re-
garded as the settled policy of this gov-
ernment. The population of the United
States, " consists of natives of Caucasian
origin, and exotics of the same derivation.
The native mass rapidly assimilates to
itself, and absorbs the exotics, and thus
these constitute one homogeneous people.
The African race, bond and free, and the
aborigines, savage and civUized, being in-
capable of such assimilation and absorption
remain distinct, and owing to their peculiar
condition, they constitute inferior masses,
and may be regarded as accidental, if not
disturbing political forces. The rulino-
homogeneous family, planted at first on the
Atlantic shore, and following an obvious
law, is seen continually and rapidly ex-
tending itself westward, year by year, and
subduing the wUderness and the prairie, and
thus extending this great political com-
munity, which, as fast as it advances,
breaks into distinct states for municipal

*Mr. Seward's speech in the Senate, March
11th, 1850.

VOL. V. NO. V. NEW SERIES.

purposes only, while the whole constitutes
one contiguous, entire, and compact na-
tion."*

This population, is now 22 millions. In
fifty years it will be 80 millions, and in an
hundred years 200 millions; equal to
nearly one fourth the present aggregate
population of the globe.

The problem for statesmen of the present
day, is, therefore, not how they shall con-
fine this irresistible and wide spreading
tide of life, but rather how they shall, with
sufiicient expedition, provide a soil for its
feet to rest upon, and extend over it a gov-
ernment at once congenial, powerful and
free.

The government of the United States,
if they have not hitherto, must now begin
to have a sound colonial policy. There
are legislators, otherwise men of weight and
wisdom, who have no faith in the expan-
sive power of republican institutions, who
sigh for the narrow and manageable limits
of the old thirteen colonies, and amuse
themselves and the people with predictions
of the incapacity of a republican govern-
ment to extend itself over a continent.
These are men of the past ; doubters, and
faint hearted.

Such should not be the spirit of the
rising statesmen of this age ; they who are
to live through the coming thirty years of
republican aggrandizement — who are to
shape the destinies of the coming time ; it
is theirs to make themselves sure of what
will be, and must be ; and then, by reason
29

444

Review of Mr. King's Report.

[May,

and a just and universal legislation, guided
by the constitution, and by the advice of
history and experience, to provide govern-
ments for these expanding millions ; not
dilatorily and factiously, but with a great
and generous liberality, a liberality to
which Providence will be always kind, be-
cause it is the very brother and friend of
Providence ; and by obeying the great
laws of events, becomes itself a law.

And now, when the necessity of adopt-
ing a broad and liberal system of coloniza-
tion has forced itself upon the attention even
of the most reluctant and bigoted admirers
of narrow limits, the force of the national
legislation is wasted in the hateful strife of
faction. Instead of providing, with a pa-
ternal care, for our new colonies on the
Pacific, to confirm and strengthen them in
affection and respect for the mother country
the leaders of faction are consuming week
after week in profitless recrimination. Let
us turn away from this wretched strife, and
refresh our eyes and om- hearts with new in-
dications of the vigor and the power of our
name and our laws ; let us see how beauti-
fully and peacefully they can expand them-
selves in new and untried regions.

The empire of freedom has now within
its geographical boundaries every element
of power ; a hardy and enlightened ruling
race, of the best blood of the human family.
The American people, proper, spreading
rapidly over a continent to which the
Creator has given every natural advantage ;
of vast, but not sterile nor wasteful extent,
lying between two mighty oceans, far re-
moved on the one hand from the barbarism
of Asia, and on the other from the old
tyranny of Europe. On the North bound-
less forests, affording the materials of
structure and habitation, whose removal
leaves such' fields as produce the best and
healthiest food of man : out of these,
rivers gathering their floods and flowing
toward the South, East and West, navig-
able almost from their sources to the sea.
In the South, rich plains producing every
luxury in such abundance, that the meanest
and the poorest may possess and enjoy
them. In the West a land mountainous
and rude, but teeming with the precious
metals, with silver and with gold. In the
East, nourishing a population qualified by
industry and sagacity for every handici'aft,
and with an ingenuity and enterprise which

converts the very stones beneath its feet
into subsistence and riches ; there is
nothing wanting in this great, this select
and wonderful region, to supply everything
that is needed for the densest, and the
most numerous and civilized population.
It is not broken by impassable ranges of
mountains, nor by sandy, illimitable
deserts : from one part to another the
traveller passes easily, and with safety.
He may sail through the land, from end to
end, by natural and artificial streams ; he
may traverse it, driven swiftly along, with
the speed of an eagle, by the force of ma-
chinery. From place to place, over pro-
digious distances, he may send messages
with the speed of lightning. The people
of this continent have a common law, a
single code or constitution, which makes
every man the friend, the fellow, and
the equal of all others of his nation.
No country so favorable has been inhabited
by the human race : none of such extent,
and of so useful and delightful a variety.
No people so free have ever been so nu-
merous and powerful ; they have but one
language, and in that language is embodied
every thing that is useful or important to
be learned. Such a people, feeling their
own destiny, must become the proudest,
and the most dignified, the least jealous,
and the most contented and happy among
nations. The thoughts of a citizen, in such
a nation, should be too grand and general
for local heat and prejudice. Let him
think of his country and her destiny, and
he cannot fail to be magnanimous in his
thoughts.

There is a narrow and unphilosophical,
an unbending spirit, among a certain class
of legislators, which is astonished and
offended at every turn in aifairs, and sees
a crisis in every difiiculty. Let us make
up our minds to it, and quietly take up
with this proposition, that as in the youth
of an active and ambitious man, so in the
first century of a rising and powerful state,
every moment is a crisis. The day is
critical, the year, the age, the century is
critical, legislation is all critical ; new
forms of opinion are continually springing
into life ; new powers are rising on all
sides of us, new necessities, new exigen-
cies ; our legislation must consequently
take its departure from certain grand and
simple principles such as suffice for the

1850.]

Review of Mr. King's Report.

445

government of Empires, and the rule of
multiplying inillions.

The liberty and equality of the Ameri-
can people^ and of those of their race tvho
hlcnd with them and with their children,
man for man; that is our first principle.
A solid and efficient governmental organi-
zation, wherever men enough are met to-
gether to form a town, a county, a muni-
cipality, then a state ; and for the rapid
fusion of states into the one great Empire
of freemen, maintaining, at the same time,
with a most jealous care, the liberty, and
sovereignty of the members, by granting
them their separate honors ; by honoring
their equality in the council of the nations
Here are points of departure for liberal
legislation ; from which, if we rightly take
our observation and measure our course, we
shall not be misled by those novel false
lights which have appeared in the Southern
horizon. Balance of Power, Extension by
Conquest.

To doubt the expansive power of the
American governmental system, is to doubt
the existence of any universal principles of
government ; nay, it is to doubt the uni-
versality and efficiency of the moral law
itself, from which that system, together
with the law of nations, is immediately de-
rived. True it is, the importance and
weight of each particular state is some-
what lessened as the number of all in-
creases ; but the efficiency of the principles
which govern all and each, is neither
changed nor diminished. That law of
gravitation which controls the revolution of
two planets with their satellites, and har-
moniously regulates their times, and sub-
ordinates each body to the common centre,
rules with greater power, and with equal
facility the movements of an entire system.
When the principle of the movement is
universal, the number of the bodies whose
motion is regulated by it, may be indefi-
nitely increased, and thereby there is no
confusion, but only a greater stability.

The new State which is asking admission
into the Union requires only a formality to
become one of us ; it is our jealousy only
which delays its admission, and not any
other reason ; if jealousy be a reason : we
cannot, constitutionally, lay political con-
ditions upon California ; we can exact noth-
ing from her that she will be bound to
fulfil. She does not ask to be admitted to the

North or to the South, but to the confede-
racy of the whole. Were it possible for us to
make certain political stipulations, to exact
certain promises, to force into her Consti-t
tution certain provisions, for our sake or
for her sake, it might be sound policy to
keep her ambassadors waiting in the ante-
chamber, with their hats in their hands,
for the sake of humiliation ; or to mortify
their friends in the House or in the Senate.
It was not to insult the South that she in-
corporated into her Constitution a provi-
sion against the holding of negroes in bon-
dage ; but wholly to exclude the negro
from her limits, and make every inch of
her soil a possession for that free and ener-
getic race who are deriving wealth from it.
The higher the grade of industry and in-
telligence brought in immediate contact
with the earth's surface, the more willingly
and rapidly it yields food and clothing, and
comfort, to its cultivators ; and, therefore,
it is, the new State of California, (for we
insist on calling it a State, as it has the
natural members and properties of a State)
has legislated for the exclusion of the in-
ferior races.

No sooner had the gold region of the
Pacific coast become apart of the American
territory, it began to be occupied by Am-
erican citizens ; their numbers increased
with extreme rapidity ; but they found
themselves subject to the uncertain and op-
pressive operation of laws written in a lan-
guage which they did not understand, and
founded on principles which they did not
recognize. The native judges of the country-
were not fitted either by talent or educa-
tion to arbitrate their diffiirences, or con-
firm them in their private rights. " There
was not a single volume," says Mr. King,
" containing the laws of the country, as
far as I know, or believe, in the whole ter-
ritory, except, perhaps in the Governor's
office at Monterey." The American citi-
zens, the masters of the soil, already-
more numerous than the native population,
found themselves without protection in their
lives and property, saving by a rude mili-
tary justice, and the force of public morals.
Titles to property could not be with cer-
tainty established, and were necessarily-
taken without a possibility of ascertaining
their validity.

Without charters, or any legal right of
organization, towns and cities were grow-

446

Review of Mr. King's Report.

[May,

ino- up with all their municipal necessities
of police, of tasation, and the protection of
life and property. At the custom-house,
duties were exacted by the general govern-
ment, to a large amount, in return for
which, the people themselves received none
of the benefits of the government which
exacted them. " In obedience, therefore,
to the extraordinary exigencies of their
condition, the people of the city of San
Francisco and of other communities elected
members to form a legislature, and clothed
them with full powers to pass laws."

Their laws and liberties they did not
derive from charters, they had them m
their minds and in their hearts ; they were
trained citizens ; they knew how to orga-
nize a State. They were already, de facto,
members of a State ; they had no grada-
tions to pass through, they were not pioneers,
backwoodsmen, or barbarians. " Other
territories had been, at first, slowly and
sparsely peopled, by a few hunters and
farmers who penetrated the Tvildcrness or
traversed the prairies in search of game or
a new home, and when thus gradually
their population warranted it, a govern-
ment was provided for them. They, how-
ever, had no foreign commerce, nor any-
thing beyond the ordinary pursuits of ag-
riculture and the various branches of
business which usually accompany it, to
induce immigration within their borders.
Several years were required to give them
sufiicient population and wealth to place
them in a condition to require, or enable
them to support a State government."

" Not so with California ; the discovery
of the vast metallic and mineral wealth in
lier mountains, had already attracted to
.her in the space of twelve months, more
•than 100,000 people. An extensive com-
merce had sprung up with China, the ports
-of Mexico on the Pacific, Chili and Aus-
trillia. Hundreds of vessels from the At-
'lantic ports of the Union, freighted with
our manufacturers and agricultural pro-
-ducts, and filled with our fellow-citizens
iiad arrived, or were on their passage round
•Cape Horn ; so that, in the month of June
last, there were more than 300 sea-going
Yesseils in the port of San Francisco."

''■'California has a border on the Pacific
of more than 10 degrees of latitude, and
several Important harbors which have ne-
ver becK. surveyed} nor is there a buoy, a

beacon, a light-house, or a fortification on
the whole coast."

" There are no docks for the repair of
mercantile vessels nearer than New York,
a distance of some 20,000 miles by sea." f

" All these things, together with the pro-
per regulation of the gold region, the quick-
silver mines, the survey and disposition of
the public lands, the adjustment of land
titles, — the establishment of a mint, and of
marine hospitals, requii-ed the immediate
formation of a more perfect civil govern-
ment than California then had, and the
fostering care of Congress and the execu-
tive.

In a single year California had become
a state of great commercial importance ;
of equal, if not superior importance to any
of those which have recently been admitted
into the Union as States. Her citizens,
therefore, with unexampled unanimity and
promptitude, resolved upon the only course,
which lay open to them the immediate
formation of a State Government. To
have waited the action of a Congress pa-
ralyzed by a balance of factions, would have
shown a degree of patience and pusillani-
mity on their part unworthy of a people
whose greatest glory, in the eyes of the
world, is, the capacity which they exhibit for
prompt, and efiicient, and permanent, civil
organization. They did not do this how-
ever, until they perceived that they would
be subjected to ruinous delays had they
to wait on the action of Congress.

In regard to that question which was,
" shaking the Union to its centre," and
had thus far deprived them of a regularly
organized civil government, '' they believ-
ed that they had an un defeasible right to
decide for themselves, if not as a chartered
State, then, as individual citizens, and in
maintenance of that very doctrine which is
so jealously maintained by the South. Was
it for them to suppress any portion of their
Constitution } To sneak it out and make a
secret of it, with the intention oi sneaking it
in, after their reception into the brotherhood
of States } It had been argued and estab-
lished, say the friends of Mr. Calhoun, in
the celebrated resolutions of 1 847, concoct-
ed by that much lamented statesman,
"that it is a fundamental principle in our
political creed, that a people in forming a
Constitution, have the unconditional right
to form and adopt the government which

1850.]

Review of Mr. King^s Report.

447

they tliiak best calculated to secure their
liberty, prosperity and happiness."

President Polk, in his message of 1848,
declares that " whether Congress shall
legislate or not, the people of the acquired
territories, when assembled in Convention
to form State Constitutions, will possess the
sole and exclusive power to determine for
themselves, whether slavery shall or shall
not exist within their limits."*

Mr. King states that the date of his ar-
rival at San Francisco was on the morn-
ing of the fourth of June. General Riley's
proclamation, calling a convention to form
a S|»te Government, was dated the day
previous to his arrival. Mr. King declares
that he had no secret instructions, verbal
or written, from the President, or any one
else, what to say to the people of Califor-
nia on the subject of slavery. There was
no party organization ; there could be no
secret influences : the people were ripe for
the formation of a Constitution, and when
the question of slavery was submitted to
them by those who were opposed to
it, a vast majority was found to be ini-
mical to its admission. All the influence
of which we find any testimony that it
was exerted by Mr. King, was such as his
age and experience, as a practical legisla-
tor, entitled and compelled him to exert,
with or without executive instructions ;
that is, to advise a reduction to order of
the chaotic Society of California, and to
begin that work, which it was the first
and paramount duty of the people to per-
form,— the organization of their society for
the protection of life and property, — to
show their capacity for self-government,
and to test themselves in that particular,
before they should apply for admission into
the Union. "The Convention," says
Mr. Kins, " ^^as sitting 130 miles froiu
the place where I was ; my illness was a
sufiicient proof that I did not, and could
not, had I been disposed, exercise any in-
fluence on the Convention ; nor had I
anything to do with selecting or bringing
out candidates." In a word, it is under-
stood that Mr. King did not exercise any
political or party influence : all that he
did exert was advisatory, and for this,

* All the quotations thus far given, are from the
Report, either quoted by Mr. King, or in his own
words.

even, we have only the testimony of news-
papers.

A very large portion of this lucid and
important report consists of a geogra-
phical and economical description of Cali-
fornia. It may be interesting to the reader
to learn, from this authority, that the
population of California in 1802 did not
reach a total of 17,000 ; and that in 1839
it fell short of 24,000 ; of which 18,000
were converted Indians.

In 1838 bewan the emigration from the
United States, and in 1846, Colonel
Fremont found it not difficult to raise an
army of 500 fighting men. At the close
of the war with Mexico there were esti-
mated from ten to fifteen thousand Mexi-
cans and Californians, exclusive of Indians.

The emigration of American citizens in
1849 was estimated at 80,000 ; of foreign-
ers, 20,000. Thus, it appears that Cali-
fornia is, strictly, an American State j
more so, than several other States of the
Union.

It is impossible to ascertain the number
of Indians who occupy the surrounding
territory. Of these, the remains of their
villages at the feet of the mountains, show
that they were once a numerous population.
Americans who penetrate too far into the
interior, not unfrequently fall in with hos-
tile tribes ; and a number have been killed
by them. Emigration parties have been
frequently attacked. These hostile tribes
chiefly occupy the mountains, and range
over the deserts of the interior.

Mr. King says that the small parties of
Indians which he met, scattered through
the lower portions of the footholds of the
Sierra Nevada, seem to be almost of the
lowest grade of human beings, living on
roots and acorns, with occasional fish and
game. These, he says, have never pretend-
ed to hold any interest in the soil, and have
not the slightest inclination to cultivate
it. They were too indolent to be profita-
bly employed. He supposes that they
will disappear from the fiice of the earth,
as the settlements of the whites extend
over the country ; but that, at present, a
very considerable military force will be
necessary to protect the emigrants in the
northern and southern portions of the ter-
ritory.

Mr. King's description of the geogra-
phical peculiarities of CaHfornia and the

448

Review of Mr. King's Report.

May,

sea wliicli borders it, are extremely inter-
esting 5 but to give even an abstract of
them would expand this article beyond the
limits which are assigned to it : a few par-
ticulars is all that we are able to extract.

The forests of California, west of the
Sierra Nevada, and below latitude 49,
consist only of some scattering groves of
oak on the vallies and along the borders
of the streams ; and of " red-wood," on
the ridges, and in the gorges of the hills.
With these exceptions, and a dwarfish
shrubbery v;pon the hills, which can be
used as fuel, the whole territory presents
a grassy surface, varied with wild oaks,
which grow in the valleys most luxuriantly.
As the summer advances, this slender
vegetation perishes, and the country be-
comes hot and desert-like. About the
middle of each day, a cold, cutting wind
begins to blow from the mountains, loaded
with vapor ; which, with the dry heats, render
the cliniate at San Francisco, more uncom-
fortable in summer than in winter. A few
miles inland, however, the climate is mode-
rate and delightful. The best climate of Cali-
fornia prevails in the vallies, along the coast
range. On the vast plain of the Sacra-
mento and San Joaquin, the sea breeze
loses its influence, and the altei-nations of
heat and cold are intense and afflictive
to the stranger, the thermometer frequent-
ly ranging much higher than is known on
the Atlantic coast of the same latitude.

A few months of acclimation, however,
reconciles the stranger to the climate of
California, and he pronounces that of the
vallies which arc situated between the
great plain of Sacramento and the coast
rang3 of hill, "as healthful and pleasant,
as it is possible for any climate to be,
which possesses sufficient heat to mature
the cereal grains and edible roots of the
temperate zone."

The seasons, as in tropical latitudes,
are divided into wet and dry, and will ex-
cite no surprise in the inhabitant of a
southern State : the winters being extreme-
ly mild.

The soil of the vallies which are situ-
ated parallel to the coast-range, and those
which extend eastward, in all directions
among the hills, is deep and black, and of
unsurpassed fertility.

There is said to be a rich belt of well
timbered and watered country extending

the whole length of the gold region between
it and the Sierra Neva, some twenty
miles in width, but it has not been survey-
ed, nor accurately described.

Mr. King represents that he considers
the plain of Sacramento and San Joaquin
covers an area of between fifty and sixty
thousand square miles ; and capable, un-
der a proper system of cultivation, of sup-
porting a population equal to that of Ohio
or New York at the present time. It is,
of course, to be understood that a system
of irrigation would have to be adopted for
this region, during the hot months.

Under the head of products, the r^ort
observes that the Califoruians were a pas-
toral people, and that grains enough for
home consumption only, were obtained by
the cultivation of the soil. Formerly there
was a very great exportation of hides, but
the destruction of cattle for their skins and
tallow has now ceased, in consequence of the
demand for beef ; and the increase of
population, and consequent demand for
food, is so rapid, it is computed that the
entire stock of cattle, supposed to be about
half a million head, will be absorbed before
1854. The supply of beef will then be
of necessity from the Atlantic States of the
Union. " No other country," says Mr.
King, " has the means of supplying so great
a demand. By the regular increase of her
population, at the present rate, California
will require 100,000 head of beef cattle
per annum from some quarter, to supply
the wants of her people." This demand
cannot be met by the salt provision com-
monly put up for mariners. It is found
that the use of this food during the dry
season produces destructive diseases.
There is no climate, says the Report, where
flesh meat and vegetables are more essen-
tial to human health.

To meet this vast demand for live-stock,
sheep and cattle will be driven from New-
Mexico and from the western states, and
after grazing for a time upon the rich pas-
tures of California, after their journey, they
will become acceptable food.

In regard to the cultivation of grains,
Mr. King argues from evidence which he
considers sufficient, that in the rich alluvial
vallies of California, every species of vege-
table food may be produced, excepting
perhaps, the maize, or Indian Corn ; and
without that irrigation which is essential

1850.]

Revieiv of Mr. King's Report.

449

upon plains subject to the continued heats of
summer. There is no species nor amount
of vegetable production, however, which
cannot be obtained from the soils of Cali-
fornia by attention to drainage and irriga-
tion.

As long, however, says the Report, as
laborers can earn 15 dollars or more per
diem, in collecting gold, they can very well
afford to import their supplies from coun-
tries where the wages of labor are only 50
cents, or one dollar ; and this brings us to
the most important part of the report,
namely the commercial considerations and
prospects suggested by a view of the
present and future aspects of California, as
a country to be supplied by the products
and manufoctures of the Atlantic States.

The cultivatible land, south of latitude
39°, and west of the valley of Sacramento
and San Joaquin, is claimed by such per-
sons as are reputed proprietors of it, under
what purport to be grants from the Mexi-
can government. The boundaries of some
of these properties, contain two or three
times as much land as the grant conveys.

In most of the grants the minerals and
metals are reserved to the government, which
will perhaps explain the reason why larger
discoveries of the metallic riches of the
country were not made previous to its pos-
session by Americans, and gives a hint of
the true policy to be pursued by the gov-
ernment of the United States. It will
be necessary to depart in some measure
from the old established customs of govern-
ment in regard to precious substances found
in the earth.

The Mexican law requires that grants
made by a provincial government shall
be confirmed by the supreme authority in
Mexico. Very naturally this requisition
has been disregarded ; not only because of
the distance from. California to the Capitol
of Mexico, but because the claimants or
proprietors, having no particular value for
the soil except for grazing purposes, did
not think it worth their while to examine
into their land titles. There was room
enough, says Mr. King, for all. These
grants are enormously extensive ; bounded
by mountains, bays, and promontories, and
since the discovery of the precious metals,
they have become consequently, of enor-
mous value.

"By the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo

the United States purchased all the rights
of Mexico to and in California ;" a pur-
chase which includes not only the land,
but the rights of mining, and all that might
accrue from the forfeiture of grants of
which the conditions were not fulfilled, or
through imperfection in the grants.

For the adjustment of these complicated
affairs Mr. King suggests the appointment
of competent Commissioners, with a power
to confirm all rightful titles. The gold
region, which is the same with the foot hills
of the Sierra Nevada, some 500 miles long
and 60 broad, requires also to be brought
under a general system for use and settle-
ment. The report suggests the necessity
of a new survey as a matter of very great
importance, both to the miners and agricul-
turalists, and, in general, to all land owners
and purchasers. The public are not
generally aware, that in the interior, even
of the Atlantic States, millions of property
and years of litigation are lost through the
uncertainty of boundaries. We venture
to say that an expenditure of $10,000,000
upon an accurate trigonometrical survey of
the entire Union, would, in a very few
years, save the expenditure of much more
than that amount in law suits, and the
bungling work of county surveyors. Much
more then, is a complete and thorough
scientific survey needed of a country like
California, where the entire value of pro-
perty is in land.

In this part of the Report Mr. King
suggests the employment of a system of
drainage and irrigation for the great plain
of Sacramento and San Joaquin, which, he
says, when agriculture shall have become
a pursuit in California, will make this
valley one of the most beautiful and product-
ive portions of the Union ; but while the
hire of a day laborer is 3 dollars per diem,
and grain can be procured from Oregon at
50 cents the bushel, there is no likelihood
that the people of California will expend
any capital in drainage or irrigation.

Under the head of " commercial resour-
ces," Mr. King takes notice that the pre-
cious metals are the only products of Cali-
fornia ; a state of things that must remain
as long as the pursuit of gold continues
profitable. The gold, as it is taken from
the earth, weighed in ounces, is the me-
dium of domestic and foreign exchange
Vessels departing from all other ports

450

Review of Mr. King^s Report,

[May,

bring food aud manufactures to the Cali-
fornians, who pay for them in gold. These
vessels, says the Report, will estimate the
profits of their voyages by the sale of their
cargoes in California. On the arrival and
discharge of cargoes, they will be-
come willing carriers of goods sent from
California, at very moderate freights. Mr.
King supposes that these tendencies will
make San Francisco a ware-house for the
supply, to a certain extent, of all the ports
of the Pacific — American and Asiatic —
and for the Islands. He adds that the es-
tablishment of a mint in California will
bring thither more than ten millions of sil-
ver buUion, from other parts of the Pacific
coast, to be assayed and coined.

Gold is worth a dollar more the ounce
measured by the standard of silver, in New
York than in San Francisco ; if, therefore,
a merchant of Valparaiso receives in pay-
ment for lumber, or other produce, ten
thousand ounces of gold in San Francisco,
and desires to purchase goods from the
United States or Europe, he will gain
$10,000 by sending this gold to New
York, and purchasing with it there. To
carry this illustration farther than it is car-
ried in the Report, let us suppose that goods
are sent from New York to California, to
the value of $17,000,000 of gold, paid for
them at San Francisco. This $17,000,000
of California gold will purchase in New
York $18,000,000 worth of goods in that
market ; a process to be repeated indefi-
nitely in favor of the exporters, so long as
the abundance of gold in California shall
continue to reduce its price, and the rapid
increase of population keep up the demand
for foreign products.

Our Report shows conclusively what we
have always contended for, that it is not
the gold diggers of California who reap the
advantage of the mines. " Those who
purchase and ship gold to the United
States," says Mr King, " make large
profits ; but those who dig lose what others
make."

The Report argues that San Francisco
will become the mart of all exports from
the countries on the west coast of America ;
these finding no markets in China or other
ports of Asia. The products and the man-
ufactures of India, which are required in
exchange for them, have to be paid for,
chiefly, in gold ; but this gold must be re-

mitted by the India merchant to New York.
It cannot be sent to China, gold in China
being not used as currency, and valued at
only $14 the ounce by the silver standard.
The China trade will, therefore, still centre
in New York. Manufactures and pro-
ducts of India, carried to San Francisco
for the supply of South America and the
Islands, will be paid for in gold; the gold
will be sent to New York, (according to
our report, which is founded on the best
mercantile authority,) and, with it, there
will be purchased sterling bUls, payable m
London. "These bills, sent to London,
will be placed to the credit of the firm in
China, from whom the merchandise had
been i-eceived, and who, on learning of the
remittance having gone forward to their
agents, will draw a six months' sight bill for
the amount, which will sell, in China, at
the rate of four shillings and three pence,
or two pence, the dollar."

The reader unacquainted with mercan-
tile transactions need only understand that
by an imperative necessity of trade, found-
ed on permanent differences of prices in the
precious metals, the greater part of the
gold of California employed in striking the
balance of the Chinese and India trade,
will flow through New York, and from that
port to Europe ; saving what remains,
through superiority of demand, in the Uni-
ted States. If the reasonings of Mr.
King and the experience of the New York
merchants are here correctly given, the
harbor of San Francisco will have the con-
trol of the commerce of the Pacific, and
the merchants of New York will become
in future the principal operators between
Europe and Asia. A full examination of
this part of the Report would have to be
accompanied with a treatise on the laws
of trade.

The Report dwells, especially, upon the
importance of that commerce which is
growing up between California and the
older States of the Union. Every neces-
sary and luxury has to be imported into
California, a country which produces noth-
ing but gold. The ports of the Pacific can
supply only a small portion of these. Every
species of manufacture that requires an ex-
penditure of capital and ingenuity must
come to California from the older States of
the Union. The great distances over
which they have to be carried already

1850.]

Review of Mr. King's Report.

451

give employment to a fleet of merchant
vessels. The public have heard enough
of California prices; we need not dwell
upon them here. In the sole article of
lumber, in consequence of the demand for
houses, it is supposed that the demand will
not be less than 20,000,000 feet per an-
num, at a not less price than $40 the thou-
sand. With a population of 200,000, that
is to say before the close of the present
year, California will require near half a
million of barrels of flour to be supplied
of necessity from the Atlantic States ; and
allowing only $20 worth of clothing to
each person, which is not half enough, she
will require four millions worth. These
estimates are exceedingly rude. The en-
tire value of the trade between the States
east of the Rocky Mountains and Califor-
nia will not, says Mr. King, fall short of
twenty-five millions, and in five years may
reach an hundred millions per annum, at
the present rates of emigration.

We give the following quotation from
the report without comment. " It is difii-
cult to imagine or calculate the effect
which will be produced on all the in-
dustrial pursuits of the people of the
State of the Union by this withdrawal
from them of half a million of producers ;
who, in their new homes and new pursuits,
will give existence to a commerce almost
equal in value to our foreign trade. Let
no one, therefore, suppose he is not inter-
ested in the welfare of California ; as well
may he believe his interests would not be
influenced by closing our ports, and cut-
ting ofi" intercourse with all the world."

Mr. King shows, conclusively, that even
the article of coal will be powerfully afiect-
ed. He supposes that the coal from the
United States will compete successfully
with the coal from Vancouver's Island and
from New Holland. That the construc-
tion of a railroad across the Isthmus of
Panama will secure the market for these
articles against all competition. With the
railroad, communication between New
York and San Francisco can be effected
in twenty days.

Mr. King's description of the gold re-
gion agrees very neai-ly with the informa-
tion which has already been conveyed to
the public through the news writers. He
supposes that the average earnings of
the golddiggers are about an ounce, or

seventeen dollars the day ; which will
give an amount of $40,000,000, collected
durino- the ffold difrmno; season of '48, '49 ;
one half of which was probably collected
and carried out of the country "by for-
eigners.

Mr. King advises that a system of li-
cences to gold diggers be adopted, the
property of the soU remaining in the na-
tion that ; each man, on the payment of a
certain sum, say $16, be permitted to dig
for one year : a tax which would give a
revenue from 50,000 miners of $800,000.
The entire country will have to be survey-
ed and laid out ; the system will involve
the establishment of a military force and a
police with sufficient regulations for its en-
forcement. Durinfj the mining; season of
1849, more than 12,000 foreigners, mostly
Mexican and Chilcnos, came in armed
bands into the mining district, bidding de-
fiance to all opposition, and finally carrying
out of the country some $20,000,000
worth of gold dust, which belonged by
purchase to the people of the United
States.

We are glad to perceive in the above
language of the Report, a clear recognition
of the true and only title by which these
territories are held.

By whatever right, to use the word
' right' in the technical sense, a possession
may have been acquired ; by that same right
it must be held. If the acquisition is a
conquest and founded upon force, it must
be maintained by force ; and there is no
violation of any right or title in it, by the
attempt of its former possessor to reconquer
it. It is barely possible that these armed
bands of Mexicans are as ignorant of the
true foundation of our title to California,
as these Democratic Senators and Repre-
sentatives who publicly speak of it as a con-
quest. We conceive that neither the Mexi-
can invaders who have carried away the
gold from the mines, nor their democratic
orators have a right appreciation of the
means by which the territories of Califor-
nia and New Mexico came into the pos-
session of the United States. According to
om- understanding of the matter, the war
with Mexico was gotten up for the express
purpose of wresting these, and as much other
territory as might be seized upon, from their
ancient possessors, without even the pre-
text of a bargain or equivalent. Their

452

Review of Mr. Kingh Report.

[May,

grand attempt to involve tlie entire nation
in the disgrace of so deliberate a piece of
wickedness met with a most signal failure.
Public opinion rose against them, and by
the steady opposition of the Whigs, they
were obliged to cover their retreat _^out of
this villainy by offering such terms as
Mexico might reasonably accept, and with-
out disgrace to herself. The new terri-
tories, it is to be eternally remembered,
are by no means a conquest, but a pur-
chase ; and the right and title of the people
of the United States to these territories is
founded upon value received, and is good
in the eyes of the law. Mexican and
Chilinean invaders, have therefore no pre-
text nor precedent, thanks to Whig influ-
ence, for carrying the gold, by main force
and arms, out of the territories which
have been purchased by the people ; and
if the Mexican government itself abets
such proceedings, we shall by and by have
a casus belli for the war faction, which
they will doubtless enforce, as becomes
them, with the arguments of a very high-
toned morality.

The report continues : " They may with
as much right gather the harvest in the
valley of the Connecticut, the Ohio, or the
Mississippi. No other nation, having the
power to protect its treasure would sufier
it to be thus carried away. I would
not allow them (the foreigners,) to pur-
chase permits, or work vein-mines, because
the contributions, proposed to be required,
are so moderate they will not cause the
slightest inconvenience to the miners, and
are not designed as an equivalent to these
privileges. Foreigners, therefore, would
willingly pay their small sums for permis-
sion to collect and carry away millions of
dollars in value. The object is not only a
suitable revenue, but to preserve, for the
use of our own fellow citizens, the wealth
of that region. The system of permits
will make all who purchase them police of-
ficers, to aid in excluding from the mines
all who are not entitled to, or who do not
procure them, and to prevent deserters
from the army and navy from being pro-
tected in the mines. Sailors belonging to
the mercantile marine would be thus pre-
vented from violating their engagements,
and the commerce of the country preserved
from the disastrous consequences of the
abandonment of ships by their crews."

The report concludes with several impor-
tant suggestions. Mr. King shows the
necessity of a powerful military force to be
established in California with the least pos-
sible delay ; of an efficient harbqr defence,
in case of war ; of the establishment of
a mint ; and completion of the rail way
across the Isthmus of Panama. The es-
tablishment of the mint he regards as of
great importance to draw to San Francisco
the 10,000,000 of silver bullion which are
annually sent from Western Mexico to
Europe. At San Francisco it would then
be advantageously exchanged for gold coin,
or would be coined itself to fit it for the
Chinese and American markets, to aid in
substituting Chinese and American manu-
factures for those of Europe.

Mr. King estimates that 50 millions of
gold will be dug during the current year.
He supposes that the entire difference in
the price of gold between New York and
San Francisco, will be saved to the miners
by the establishment of a mint ; but it is
clearly impossible that mere coinage should
make gold at $16, worth $18 the ounce,
or that the coinage should add even five
"per cent, to its value.

At the very lowest estimate, the increase
of emigration in California will create
thei'e a population of at least 100,000 of
American citizens during the year 1850,
if, indeed, there is not already as great a
number to be found there. It is not too
large an estimate if we allow for each man
an outfit and expenditure of $500 ; by
which it will appear that more than
50,000,000 of personal property have
been carried out of the United States into
that colony. An equal amount must be add-
ed for the sustenance of the population during
the year 1 850 ; and as much more for the
expenditure of the previous year. The ex-
penses of the colony have then already
reached the enormous sum of at least
150,000,000. It will be safe to add at
least 5,000,000 more for the employment
of sailors and shipping, and the various
contingencies and losses attending such an
expensive adventure. If the entire cost
of the war, including the purchase money
of the territories be estimated at
75,000,000, and one third of it put to the
account of California, the price of that
colony has risen, within two years, to
180,000,000. But if the 100,000 citizens

1850.]

Review of Mr. Kingh Report.

453

who have gone to California, had remained
at home, they would have remained here
as producers. Let us suppose that each
of these would have earned $200, during
two years, which is certainly not too
high an estimate ; that is 20,000,000 of
actual production, lost in time and labor ;
and the new colony of California will now
have cost the United States, in the brief,
space of two years, 200,000,000.

The remittances of gold to the United
States have not, if we are rightly informed,
much exceeded 15,000,000, and that sum
is, by many, thought to be too large an
estimate. Let us suppose, that in addition
to this, 5,000,000 of profit have been
realized by exporters and traders ; there is
20,000,000 for the first year, to the credit
of California. Now, by Mr. King's esti-
mate for the current year, 50,000,000 of
gold will be dug in California during the
year 1850. There is 70,000,000 to the
credit of California. But no, this estimate
is too large ; it is not to be supposed that
more than 30,000,000 of the proceeds of
the current year will be sent to the United
States; leaving only 50,000,000 to the
credit of the new colony for the proceeds
of two year.

It is impossible to come to any other
conclusion than this, that this new colony
of California has cost the United States
150 millions in personal property and the
labor of its citizens, for which no return or
profit has been received ; that is to say
the colony has cost $1500 per man. We
have sent away 100,000 men, and
with each one of them $1500. It is im-
possible to escape from the conclusion.

A great deal has been said and written
in ridicule of English colonial economy.
It is a fair subject of doubt, however,
whether England ever sent out a colony
more costly for the time of its duration than
our Californian one.

We are, therefore, to conclude, and our
conclusion is well fortified by facts which
have been communicated to us through
several adventurers who have sought their
fortune in California, that the rapid for-
tunes made there are, by no means, as
some have imagined, taken out of the
earth with spade and pick-axe, and by
strength of hand. In newly settled coun-
tries more than in any other, sudden aug-
mentations of the value of land, and of

professional services, give opportunities
unknown in other countries for the rapid
accumulation of wealth. This accumula-
tion is by the transfer of the wealth of
many into the hands of a few. The
usual causes of inequality existing with
fixr greater intensity than in other commu-
nities, their effects are increased by the
carelessness and ignorance of new comers,
whose property slips easily through their
hands and falls into the purses of those
who stand ready to appropriate and use it.
It is only after severe losses and bitter.
suff"erings, for the most part, that the poor
and inexperienced colonist is able to estab-
lish himself in tolerable comfort. As Cali-
fornia is described to us by eye witnesses,
nothing can exceed the waste and reckless
profusion of those who meet with a sudden
turn of luck in the great lottery of the
mines. Their fortune is shared with them
by their brother adventurers, who have had
the wit to engage in easier but more inge-
nious kinds of speculation.

Let us suppose that, by a kind of mira-
cle, the entire population of California,
together with the one hundred and fifty
millions which have been sunk during the two
years enterprise of that colony, could have
been converted into an agricultural com-
munity, and transported to the interior —
let us say, of Ohio, or Pennsylvania. One
hundred thousand farmers, with each a
capital of $1500 ! Each one of them
might safely undertake to put the one-half
of one hundred acres of wood- land in good
order for cultivation, and in five years to
convert fifty of those acres into rich and
full bearing cornfields and meadows. Five
millions of cultivated acres, producing
each $20 worth of produce. There would
be already created an annual income, to
this agricultural colony, of 100 millions;
needing only to have suitable roads to con-
vey the surplus of their products to mar-
ket, and the establishment of manufac-
tures with a portion of that surplus among
themselves, to convert them into one of
the wealthiest communities in the Union ;
living, not as our unfortunate Californian
brothers now live, in danger of malaria,
murder, starvation, and every species of
natural accident ; deprived of home, com-
forts, and all the aids and consolations of a
peaceful society ; but living, as men should
live, civilized, organized, and in peace.

454

Review of Mr. King's Report.

[May,

The spirit wliicli possesses a large por-
tion of the American people at this time,
seems to possess it, like an eccentricity of
genius, or like the blindness of a Samson ;
by its own folly it grinds in the mill of
poverty and destitution, and he who grinds
is not responsible for himself alone ; he
compels others to suffer with him. He
compels others, by the share which he
bears, as a practical legislator in the affairs
of his country ; he legislates practically by
his vote ; by his vote he throws down
those natiu'al protections and barriers,
peaceful, but insuperable barriers, which
may be erected by the laws against the
hostile enterprise of other nations, more
adroit, and steadfast, and far-sighted than
his own. And by this perverse spirit he
is driven out, like Ishmael, with his tribe
into the wilderness to fall a prey there to
the harpies that haunt untiUecl lands.
With agricultm-e alone, such is the eternal
law of progress, begins the enduring pros-
perity of communities. Upon the shoul-
ders of that Atlas the sphere of civilization
rests with its full weight.

He and his tribe must go into the wil-
derness, because at home they have shut
their eyes and set their teeth against the
only means of prosperity. They will be
free traders, — they, or to ruin they will
go. They are martyrs, forsooth, for a
principle.

Let us now suppose that, by an opposite
system of legislation to that which has
been now, for twenty years, pursued, not
one hundred thousand unfortunate adven-
turers, but ten times that number had been
suffered to find employment for their strong
hands, their free and ready genius, and
their quick wits, in new modes of industry,
in the heart of the old States. In two
years, by the imposition of 25 millions upon
the entire country, in the shape of duties,
■would not four times that amount of value
have been created, by new shapes of m-
dnstr J protected^ and springing up vigor-
ously in all the towns and villages of the
Union ? whereas now, under our free trade
legislation, and our sad and terrible spirit
of Ishmaclitism, of desert wandering, of
gold hunting, and robbery, and conquest,
we have incurred already some 75 millions
of unavoidable taxation, with interest, and
as much more, at the last estimate, in per-
sonal property taken away from us to be

sunk, and forever buried and consumed on
the slopes of the Sierra Nevada. Barren,
deceitful, burning country, the country of
diseases, wasteful, unfortunate country ;
cursed, like a young heir, with an inherit-
ance of gold, which it must waste, and
spend, and devour, until all is gone, before
it can assume the garb and the habit of
severe, honest, and saving industry ?

Such, however, is our fate. The steed
will run away ; and while he does run, we
can only guide him. Since extension is
the rule, let us make the best we can of it.
If, by a false and injurious system of legis-
lation, we have driven our brothers into
the wilderness, let us do all w^e can for
them where they are. Let us make their
fate bearable ; infuse into them a spirit of
humanity, and of kindness ; extend over
them the protection of the happier and
more powerful States ; give them every
assistance in their attempts to organize
them stives, and encourage all their efforts
to build up a secure and peaceful State.
They must come into the Union, sooner
or later ; every man knows that they must
be brought in, with or without their anti-
slavery provision ; it makes no difference.

Legislation is the highest act of which
men are capable ; it should, therefore, as
its effects are the most momentous, be the
clearest, and the least doubtful. It is cer-
tainly unfortunate, not only for California
but for the nation, that the question of her
admission should, in all these proceedings,
have been confounded with other, and
wholly irrelevant matters. What we de-
sire to see accomplished, during the present
session, is, first, the admission of the new
State, not with reference to any system of
encroachment upon the rights of the South,
— for the admission is no part of any such
system, nor can be made such a part, — but
simply, because it is right and necessary
for the prosperity of California herself.

The next thing which we desire to see
accomplished is the immediate and effec-
tual abolition of the slave traffic in the Dis-
trict of Columbia. Were it oiu- part to do
so, we would bend every effort toward the
removal of this sore and canker on the body of
the State. We would not suffer that ques-
tion to be entangled with any others. Third-
ly, and as insubordinate in importance, we
would endeavor to accomplish the establish-
ment of an effective government for the terri-

1850.]

Review of Mr. King^s Report,

455

tory of New Mexico ; not with any reference
to the question whether she should become,
or should not become, a slave State in
future, but only because it is just and ne-
cessary that such a government shoidd be
established. We would not revoke the
ordinances of the Mexican Government,
but leave the law as it is, and give the
people full liberty, and every advantage for
the formation of a new State, under such a
Constitution as might please themselves,
and not us.

The settlement of the boundary ques-
tion between New Mexico and Texas,
ought not to interfere, and cannot interfere
with the duty of the general Government.
Let an arbitrary line be drawn, and all
without that line be left under the protec-
tion of the Texan Government. If a line
cannot be agreed upon, let one be assumed
as debateable, and subject to litigation
before the Supreme Court ; let the bill be
so framed as to leave open the adjustment
of the line ; let the territorial government
be merely a protective and temporary gov-
ernment ; but still effective, and sufficient
for the purpose ; let the bill by which it
is established be unencumbered by any
species of proviso, and made good, by and
for its own reasons and necessities, and
separately enacted into a law.

The present policy of the Southern Sen-
ators is, to hold up continually, and to re-
iterate, the constitutionality of the designs
of certain Northern agitators. They agi-
tate in every shape certain propositions and
principles as well known to, and as deeply
rooted in, the minds of Northern politicians
as their own. The North does not need
to be informed of what the South is con-
tinually assuring them.

Resolutions to the effect that Congress
has no power to abolish slavery in the Dis-
trict of Columbia ; that Congress ought
not to abolish slavery in the ports and
dock-yards of the United States, serve only
to waste the time of the Senate and to ex-
asperate the passions of both parties. To
become a portion of the fundamental law,
they must pass through both Houses, un-
der the conditions required by the Consti-
tution. And unless such an enactment
could be accomplished, they are of no
value, except to such agitators in the
North as will use them as a powerful po-
litical lever to break up the old party lines

and engage the more ignorant part of the
people in a crusade against Southern in-
stitutions.

It is a pity, it is a thing deeply to be
deplored, even if it cannot be helped,
that Southern Legislators should insist
upon this hashing together, and making an
indistinguishable mass of things, which, by
their nature, refuse to be conjoined, and
which have a separate importance and
interest, and require to be treated, each,
from the view of its own facts and its own
consequences. If it is admitted to be a de-
sirable thing — and who denies it } — for the
new State on the Pacific to be made a
member of the Union, the admission of
that State does not become a precedent
against the South. The nature of the
necessity is such as to put aside every spe-
cies of compromise. We cannot draw a
line through California, dividing her popu-
lation into slave-holding and non- slave-
holding. We cannot identify her citizens
with those of New Mexico. We cannot
fix a law upon the people of New Mexico
compelling them to admit slave-holders, as
a condition of being themselves admitted
to the Union.

If, however, it is impossible by any other
course to pacify the heat of the two fac-
tions, let us, at least, move expeditiously
and promptly in the course adopted,
using the greatest care in this new kind of
legislative joinery, to unite only such parts
as will adhere.

A bill, boldly constructed, and forced
through the Senate, may be rejected by the
House ; and then, we are no better off than
at first. Indeed, we are worse off than at
first ; the political effect would be worse.
Were a bill simply for the admission of
California rejected by the Senate itself, the
blame would rest, where it belongs, and
there would be no charge against us for
temporizing, or mincing, and encumbering
the question.

It seems to be a very general opinion,
among those who have kept an eye upon
the proceedings of Congress, that no sepa-
rate and independent bill for the admission
of California will be allowed to pass the
Senate at this session ; that every bill for
the admission, of necessity, will be encum-
bered, previous to, or during its passage
through the Senate, with a provision for ter-
ritorial governments in New Mexico without

456

Review of Mr. King's Report.

[May,

any clause for the prohibition of slavery. In
the House on the contrary, the intention of
the anti-slavery proviso prevails so far, it
is held certain by some that every encum-
bered bill of that character will be rejected,
and that, consequently, California -will not
be admitted into the Union as a State,
during the present session.

The results of such a course of legisla-
tion, or rather of non-legislation, or refusal
to legislate, when the spirit from which it
rises comes to be considered, will be disas-
trous not only to the South in particular,
but to the tone and harmony of the nation.
As for its effects upon the people of the
territories and the West generally, their
alienation cannot be doubted. In Califor-
nia, as well as in Ohio, it will create an in-
tense and peculiar hostility. In New Eng-
land, the effects of such a conduct are
equally certain. In the South itself it can-
not fail to produce, in time, a violent re-
action against itself. In a word, it will
everywhere arouse and fortify that spirit of
innovation and of hostility to Southern in-
stitutions which has lately appeared in such
a formidable shape, but which might have
been annihilated, and may yet be annihila-
ted, perhaps forever, by a single act of
magnanimity on the part of the Senate.
At the end of this long and idle session,
during which not a single measure of na-
tional importance will have been adopted,
a feeling of disgust will spread itself over
the country, and a sense of the necessity
of sending other and more forcible men to
do the work of legislation, will take strong
possession of the people's mind. In every
village, throughout the entire Union, there
will be a struggle. In two-thirds of these,
there will be a visible decline of favor to
the South, and a loss of power in the
struggle. The mind of the people is not
yet fully made up ; they are Milling to con-
cede to Southern Senators, those qualities
of magnanimity and that spirit of liberality
in legislation to which they have hitherto
laid so exclusive a claim. Let this feeling
of involuntary respect for Southern men
and their ways, which has come down to
us from the days of Washington, be once
fairly eradicated from the popular mind, in
the North and West, and there will ensue
such an overturning, such a sudden ine-
quality and change in the much desired
balance of power as will give a shock to the

entire system of the Union. The stone
will roll along the other slope. Political
power will cease to emanate from Southern
centres. The heat of the Northern will
then exceed and subdue that of the South-
ern fire ; and we have fixed the date of a
new epoch in party history.

Opposition to slavery is by no means a
fluctuating, but always a steady and in-
creasing motive in our national politics. It
cannot be extinguished ; it cannot be sub-
dued ; it cannot be even diminished the
minutest fraction of a thought. Every
word that is spoken contemptuously of it,
infuses into it a fresh life and vigor. Every
opprobrious epithet heightens its crest.
As it is fanatical, it is thick-skinned and
dangerous. As it is allied with supersti-
tion, it is popular, and pervading.
As it is a perpetual leaven, it is used on
all occasions to leaven every species of agi-
tation. Like the Greek fire, it burns in
all elements : it burns in the Southern as
well as in the Northern element ; there is
no condition of society which refuses to
wear it, or which does not imagine that in
assuming it, they have won a new claim
upon the favor of God. Its movement is
the Crusade of the day.

Viewing these things in such a light, the
opposition of some injudicious legislators to
the free introduction of California, because
of that one clause which she has incorporated
in her constitution, sounds to us like what
is sometimes vulgarly called a tempting of
Providence. Could the South be made
aware of the immensity of the mischief
which these noisy partizans are pulling
down upon her head, we have confidence
enough to believe they would be silenced
by their constituents.

A committee of thirteen of the most ex-
perienced and respectable members of the
Senate has probably by this time been ap-
pointed to take into consideration not the
expediency of admitting the new State,
(for upon that point the majority seem to
be agreed,) but of joining to the instru-
ment of admission certain other legislative
provisions.

Mr. Clay will doubtless be made chair-
man of this committee, as the movement
originated, or, at least, is mainly support-
ed, by him. At former epochs, the most
severe and dangerous, he has identified
himself with the policy of peace and na-

1850.]

Review of Mr. King's Report.

457

tionalization, and by liis skillful manage-
ment of the most dangerous controversies,
has well earned tlie title of Pacificator of
the Union.

Let us make a rapid survey of a part of
the ground which would have to be occu-
pied by such a committee.

Theh first and prime object is the paci-
fication of parties, by the removal of the
causes of aggravation. This we under-
stand to be the object of such a committee.

It woidd be a committee of conciliation,
and not of sacrifice. Those who are op-
posed to the extension of slavery over the
new countries are not expected to bate a
particle of their opposition. They will have
indeed to be reminded, that by the terms of
her annexation Texas received no bounda-
ry ; and that she has a right to ask for such
a boundary as will enable her to carry out
the other conditions under which she con-
sented to blend her nationality with our
own — namely, the condition of forming
two or more slave States out of her terri-
tory.

If the demands of California for admis-
sion are pressed by one side of the com-
mittee, the conditions of Texan annexa-
tion will be ofi'ered by the other.

The attitude of the committee is the at-
titude of the entire nation. The entrance
of Texas into the Union was opposed by
the people of the North from no very re-
fiined consideration, but mainly because she
was a slave power. The entrance of Cal-
ifornia is favored by the same party for the
opposite reason, namely, that she is not a
slave power.

From this injurious eagerness and strife
of factions may be derived a conclusion as
solid as the Constitution itself, namely,
that the particular condition of a certain
portion of the inhabitants^ blacks or ab-
origines, in any new State asking admis-
sion to the great fraternity of States,
makes nothing jor or against its ad?nis-
sion.

" The African race, bond and free, and
the aborigines, savage and civilized, being
incapable of such assimilation and absorp-
tion remain distinct, and owing to their
peculiar condition they constitute inferior
masses, and may be regarded as accidental
if not disturbing political forces." The
presence or absence of such a disturbing
political element cannot be made a ground

for the expulsion of a State from the
Union, or for the refusal to admit one.

A committee of the entire nation, they
would concede at once the propriety of ad-
mitting a new State, without regard to any
policy which she might adopt for the gov-
ernment of the inferior races.

An unsettled boundary between nations
is usually, sooner or later, a cause of war.
Had the boundary between Texas and
Mexico been settled by the peaceful arbi-
tration of the United States, previous to
the act of annexation, there would have
been no war with Mexico. California and
New Mexico might have come peacefully
into the the Union by treaty and purchase,
after the precedent of Louisiana and Flor-
ida.

It is a part of wisdom, therefore, to
weigh well the contingencies of every
measure of annexation, before it is adopted,
even of this favorite admission of Califor-
nia.

Unless the admission is accompanied by
measures of conciliation on the part of the
Northern faction it will be regarded by the
South as a political conquest — a victory by
the power of numbers, and will breed bad
blood, and strengthen and intensify the
factious hatred of the Southern party.

Were the measure one of vast and ob-
vious benefit to the North, it might be
carried vi et armis on the plea of mere
advantage. But no pretext of the kind is
oifered. It is merely a triumph of the
non-slaveholding States, beneficial to them
only by the remotest contingencies. To
the nation as a whole, on the other hand,
the admission of the new State is to
be regarded as of the first importance.
A committee of the entire nation will look
upon the admission, in itself considered, as
a measure of national necessity.

As a national measure it must be accom-
plished in a spirit of peace, of union, and of
nationalization ; and, consequently, as it
carries with it the odium of a political or
factious victory, enough of concession and
compromise would be demanded by the
Southern half of the committee to annul
and do away with all factious advantages
on the other side.

To effect this end, there would doubtless
be an efibrt to join with it : 1st, An acknowl-
edgement of the claim of Texas to a share of
territory sufficient for the accomplishment

458

Review of Mr. King's Report.

[May,

of the terms of annexation. All that is
desired by the Southern half of the com-
mittee in regard|to Texas is such an adjust-
ment of the boundary as will suffice for the
fulfillment of these valid and binding con-
ditions, so as to put them beyond the reach
of violation.

2d. The establishment of a territorial
government in New Mexico. The extreme
party of the North wish to have a law
passed by the General Government, pro-
hibiting the' introduction of slaves into the
new tenitory ; they wish to extend the pro-
tection of the ordinance of 1787.

The majority of the inhabitants of these
territories are, it is well known, opposed to
the introduction of slaves ; upon them the
responsibility ought to rest. Let them have
a territorial organization, as the first step
toward the formation of a State. Once
organized they will act their own pleasure
in regard to the introduction of slaves.

In view of those future annexations of ter-
ritory which must follow rapidly upon the
settlement of such as we already possess, it
is highly impolitic for us to attempt any
direct legislation upon this point. All that
is demanded by the South, namely, that the
territory of New Mexico be organized
without prohibition or recognition of slav-
ery, may be safely granted by the North-
ern party. Once a territory, New Mexico
will rapidly become a State, and her ad-
mission will add no strength to the faction
of the extreme South. There is hardly a
possibility of her coming in as a slave State,
and by her free entrance and that of Ca-
lifornia and Eutaw, the precedent is
forever established, as the basis of our
future " colonial system," of admitting new
States upon the original footing, as free
colonies^ bringing with them their own col-
onial institutions. By this policy we es-

tablish forever the system of independent
sovereignties, the system of the constitu-
tion and of union. The prohibition of
slavery by law in New Mexico, would stand,
upon a turn of parties as an infallible pre-
cedent for its establishment by the same
authority in Cuba, or in some other new
State. Let us never lose sight of the con-
tingencies or rather of the certainties of our
future. State after State wiU have to be
admitted, until the continent is absorbed.
What a dreadful future will that be, if we
adopt the temporary strength of faction,
as the guide of our colonial policy : Abid-
ing, on the other hand, by the free policy
of the old thu'teen colonies, by which every
member of the nation was brought in so-
vereign and independent, how peaceful and
glorious the prospect of that future !

Such, if we have rightly surmised, would
be the considerations that would actuate a
committee of the more moderate and pa-
triotic statesmen of both parties, assembled
for purposes purely pacificatory and nation-
al. Other considerations would, of course,
be submitted to them. They will be re-
quired to report upon the expediency of
abolishing the slave traffic in the District
of Columbia, a measure purely advantage-
ous and calculated to stifle perhaps one
half the anti-slavery agitation.

Other difficult questions would be sub-
mitted to them to be discussed and report-
ed on, in a spirit at once constitutional and
conciliatory. But it would avaiF nothing
to connect them with those more important
and momentous ones which have passed
under our view. Such forced and unnatur-
al alliances M^ould serve only to exasperate
the opposition of the" more popular branch
of the legislature and retard their accom-
plishment for another year.

1850.]

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

459

USES AND ABUSES OF LYNCH LAW.

WlIOSO SHEDDETH THE BLOOD OF MAN,
BY MAN SHALL HIS BLOOD BE SHED, is a

doctrine derived from that authority, which
is the acknowledged foundation and corner-
stone of all law among Christian and God
acknowledging nations. Nor is it, by any
means, confined to them ; the Mahome-
tan, the Armenian, the Worshipper of
Braniah, the fire adoring Persian, the ima-
ginative Indian, — all recognise it, although
ignoring the source whence it is derived.

But is there no modification .'' There
is. The spirit of a law must be regarded
in preference to its letter, and the spirit of
this law, emanating directly from God,
and endorsed, almost universally by man,
is against murder — cold-blooded, deliberate
murder.

In the anticipated fate of the criminal,
sickly sentimentalists lose sight of the
crime, and the day has not yet passed
when women, who would appear to much
better advantage in their legitimate sjihere,
darning their husband's stockings, or pre-
paring the fiimily dinner, throng the court-
rooms, shed tears of false pity, call meet-
ings, circulate petitions, and, more ridicu-
lous and disgraceful stiJl, send notes of
sympathy, encouragement, and condo-
lence, perhaps even a bouquet, to felons,
provided always their crime be of sufficient
magnitude to merit such distinction.

They have set up, as an axiom and a test,
that the worst use you can 2)ut a man to
is to hang him. We do not know about
this. To turn a man in form, but tiger
in heart and habit, loose upon the woild, is
rather worse than to mete out to him the
punishment which he has deservedly
merited, according to our mode of think-

Shut him up in a penitentiary .' and for
what purpose .'' To remain there one, two,
or three years ; then to be used as a politi-
cal engine by some time-serving Governor,

VOL. V. NO. v. NEW SERIES.

who, to secure a score of votes, would turn
the tiger free, to glut him with fresh spoil,
not improved in feeling, or character, by
his association with those Hke himself, but
emerging again among men, no longer
his fellows, with embittered feelings of
hatred and revenge toward the whole hu-
man race.

When you can build prison walls so high
that no criminal may scale them, enact
laws so stringent, that no minion of ofiice
can trample them under foot, for his own,
or his party's advantage, find jailors so
honest that gold cannot corrupt, or sym-
pathy and pity tempt, and formed, too, of
such stern stuff as to exempt them from
danger in the attack of an infuriate demon ;
then, and not till then, abolish, in toto,
capital punishment.

We hear much, of circumstantial evi-
dence, of the suffering of the innocent, and
the escape of the guilty ; but not one iota
of truth exists in one case of one hundred.
Every idle tale of a penny-a-liner, every
silly coinage of the novelist's brain, is
picked up, announced as startling evidence
made capital of, and treated as if it were
as true as the Holy Writ. The fault ex-
ists— for fault there doubtless is, and not
so much in the punishment of the innocent,
as the acquittal of the guilty — in our laws,
in too hasty decisions, in bringing men to
trial before proper evidence is pro'eured, or
the case correctly understood; and in dLs-
charging them — judge and jury knowinf^
them to be guilty — because sufficient testi-
mony cannot be obtained to satisfy the
technical scruples of the law.

We have, perhaps, strayed from the legi-
timate purpose of this article, which was not
intended to consider capital punishment
in the abstract, but simply the application,
more or less severe, of Lynch Law. To
proceed with our proper subject ; the first
step is to endeavor to impress upon th«
30

460

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

[May,

reader's mind, as well as we may, the con-
dition of the inhabitants of a newly-settled
Territory or State.

These, we think, may he properly di-
vided into four classes. First, the hunter
and trapper, far, very far, in advance of
civilization ; mixing with the Indian, and,
frequently, without anything like a regular
home or shelter. To these, we might per-
haps add the Indian traders, and then the
class would be numerically so small, as
scarcely to be worthy our present conside-
ration.

The second class comprises the back-
woodsman,— the true pioneer, — always to
be found upon the very verge of civiliza-
tion, forming, as it were, a living wall of
defence and protection between the settlers
and the tribes of Indians'.

Class the third embraces those residing
in, and thinly scattered over the outer
ring of the settlements, usually cultivating
their own land, generally small planters,
or stock raisers, and composed of very
heterogeneous materials ; honestmen, tempt-
ed there by the love of a new country, or
a desire to purchase land cheaply, and,
among them, outlaws, desperadoes, and
rogues of all degrees. It is among the
third class, that the so-called Lynch Law,
is of more frequent occurrence.

The fourth class embraces the inhabitants
of the more densely populated portions ; of
the towns, &c. Of the first class we have
little to say ; living entirely beyond the
reach of the arm of the law, they soon be-
come almost Indian in their habits and feel-
ings, but are, upon the whole, a most useful
class of men in a new country ; serving as
they do, for spies, guides, and soldiers, of
incalculable value, in case of troubles
upon the frontier, which alone drive these
men, in a body, back upon the settle-
ments.

The backwoods-man is a character as
little known as appreciated among us.
Rude are they in manner, language, and
dress ; avoiding the settlements and busy
haunts of men ; when they find the tide of
emigration setting in around them, they
evade its first rippling waves, by plunging
deeper and deeper into the forest. Now,
what may be the cause of this "i It cannot
be crime that drives them from their fel-
lows, for crime and a bad conscience com-
pel the miserable wretch to seek relief

from reflection, in the society of men like
himself. It is a far diff"erent cause^, — or,
rather, combination of causes, — that pro-
duces this result. Many a frontier-man,
rough and rude as he may seem, yet bears
within his bosom the germ of true romance
and poetry. He seeks a retirement where
he can enjoy Nature and a simple life, un-
interrupted by the noise, disputes, and,
worse than all, the, to him, hateful conven-
tionalities of his fellows. In Ms mode of
life is a wild but lofty spirit of independ-
ence, which, once tasted, can never be
forgotten, and, indeed, it would seem that
all men are prone to retrograde from what
we call "civilization."

The conventionalities of the world are so
many chains and fetters to the free spirit,
which necessity has thrown over, and bound
round, those who compose what is termed
society. As a proof of this, you will sel-
dom find a person, who, either of his
own free will, or from stern necessity, has
passed sufficient time among the woods
and wilds, to properly accustom himself to,
and appreciate them, that is ever willing
to return to the crowded city, and busy
haunts of men ; whatever may have been
his previous station, or rank, in the walks
of life.

Those hosts of adventurers who rush to
our new States, seeking fortune or fame,
belong not to this class. Their wishes can
only be obtained among crowds ; they
but hasten to anticipate their ariival, and
obtain an early and sure foothold. Their
approach herslds invariably the departure
of the pioneer.

The desire to be alone, amounts with,
him in fact almost to monomania ; al-
though the stranger, whom chance, curi-
osity, or misfortune may have thrown in
his way, is welcomed to his hut with un-
ostentatious, but genuine hospitality and
kindness. They are glad to see him, to
glean from him news of the busy world
without, and here they feel that he cannot
be their superior.

Perhaps, after all, the " aut Ccesar^ aut
nullus^'''^ may be at the bottom of their
idiosyncrasy.

The most eminent divine, the shrewdest
merchant, the most subtle advocate, would
soon learn that the talent, scholarship, or
capacity for business, which gave him
name, consequence, and wealth among the

1850.]

Uses ajid Abuses of Lynch Law.

461

multitude, was but a useless bauble there,
aud if he were wise, would hide it, like
honest Robinson Crusoe's lump of gold,
until cireumstauces again might place him
in such a situation as to render it valuable.
Soon would they learn to look upon the
man, as being at least their equal, who,
without chart or compass, can steer his
undeviating course through the trackless
forest and over the boundless prairie ; who,
with his never failing rifle supplies his fam-
ily with food ; who, without aid of tailor,
hatter, or shoemaker, prepares his own
rude and simple but appropriate dress ;
who, hourly accustomed to danger, looks
upon it not as a cause for fear, but for
immediate and skilful action.

They would soon learn to respect him,
whose sole dependence is upon himself
and his Maker, looking not to man for
assistance and advice, but trusting in a
cool and correct judgment, and arm nerved
by healthful exposure and toil, and an eye
and ear almost as true as those highly gift-
ed individuals in the fairy tale.

This class of men form a western barrier
more firm, more efficient, and more to be
depended upon, than the boasted wooden
waUs of England. They are increasing
every day, aud vrQl continue to increase,
until the tide of civilization shall have
overwhelmed all the vast West in its ever
advancing wave, and then, as others have
already done, they will spread to the North
and to the South, to prepare new ground
for the multitude, to conquer new terri-
tory, and again to leave, imtil driven to
the extreme verge, they are finally en-
gulphed by their remorseless aud insatiate
adversary.

As the Indian retreats, step by step, in
his very foot-prints, follows the pioneer,
who, in his turn, is forced ever onward by
those with whom he has but little more
community of feeling than with the Indian
himself. It is the chase of human waves
upon the sands of life.

Among the pioneers the outlaw is seldom
found, and if he should venture, he must
mend his manners, or meet with short
grace and a sure rifle ball ; for much as
the wild woodsman despises the law and its
emissaries, the hatred of its constraints
bear no comparison to the intense disgust
with which he regards crime. Theft is
with him a sin of magnitude, and murder

is punished according to the Indians' code.

As we have before said, the necessity of
inflicting speedy punishment upon the
guilty, exists more particularly among the
thinly scattered settlers and planters in-
habiting the frontier counties of a new
State.

With the question of capital punishment,
among us of the Atlantic border, or any of
the more densely populated States, we
have nought to do.

The reader will, perhaps, think that we are
taking an unwarrantable liberty with our
subject, in creating a distinction between
the operations of regulators, and the results
of proceedings in criminal cases, in which
the entire population of a section or dis-
trict take part ; but as we have given our
article the title of " The Uses and Abuses
of LyncJi Law,'^'' he may, if he choose,
include all " regulating" among the abuses
of the system.

In the meanwhile we crave his patience
until he shall have heard our reason for
establishing this distinction.

In bolder counties, where there are no
jails within whose limits criminals can be
confined, what shall be done with them ?

Desperadoes, and villains of every degree,
in the South West are far from solitary in
their habits, but will be generally found to
be connected with a host of others, ready to
assist them in any infamous project, or to
shield them from the consequences, and
interpose between them and the arm of the
law.

^Vhere there are sufficient numbers of
such outlaws in a county, they will seldom
shrink from a trial. IS' ever, in fact, unless
the crime be one of so heinous a nature,
and so certain to be established against
them, that they fear the personal inter-
ference of the people, in case the law
should fail — as it almost invariably does —
to fasten the guilt and inflict the punish-
ment upon them.

They may completely set the law of the
land at defiance. Witnesses will be found
to prove any thing required in favor of the
prisoner, and against the testimony for the
prosecution ; juries will be packed, officers
bribed, the little county town filled with
noted desperadoes from far and near,
usually, perhaps, without any apparent
organization ; but their presence is felt,
and their purpose wcU understood.

462

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

[May,

Juries, witnesses and lawyers, are too
often overawed; and in the law there is
no remedy, on the contrary, too often
the law is a very protection to the crim-
inal.

There is no possibility of improvement,
for the moment the clan have obtained
and exhibited a supremacy in any county,
from that instant they will increase in
numbers and in boldness, until it is certain
death to any who may attempt to pros-
ecute them, or even mention their mis-
deeds.

Then, every honest man must either
submit patiently, and without complaint,
to their aggressions, receive with the ap-
pearance of warm hospitality, greet with
the semblance of friendship, welcome to
his cabin, his table, and to the society of
his wife, his daughters, and his sons, men
whose hand he knows to be stained with
blood ; or he must sell out his home-
stead, at whatever sacrifice, and move far
away.

To obviate this, the only practicable
mode is, upon the first appeai'ance of crime
of sufficient magnitude, that the whole
body of settlers near should rise, arrest the
criminal, try him impartially and justly,
then mete out to him such punishment as
thair own common sense and correct ideas
of right and wrong may dictate.

For murder, the punishment is invariably
death ; for other offences, usually an order
to quit the county forever. In such cases,
assistance is frequently extended to the
family of the culprits, in the disposition of
their f\irms, and in the moving of their
household goods and cattle.

Which of the two is the wiser course }
by one single act of justice — when law
cannot be depended on — to free the county
forever from the danger of becoming a den
of thieves and murderers, or by tamely
submitting allow the villains to obtain such
a foothold that, in the end, the honest por-
tion of the community are forced to call
upon the adjoining counties for assistance,
and the power of law is only restored and
asserted after a bloody and protracted bat-
tle.

The system of " regulators," and their
ever concomitant opponents, the " mod-
erators," WILL NOT DO, and as soon as two
regularly organized parties are found to
exist, it is the part of every wise man —

who has due regard for his life and peace —
to move, at any sacrifice.

So often has the plan of " regulating"
a county been tried, and so fatal have in-
variably been the results, that the very
name of " regulation" has come to be con-
sidered as one synonymous with that of
murder and robbery.

Perhaps, in most instances, the first in-
tention was a correct one ; but when a few
men are banded together with the inten-
tion of controlling many — of administering
justice to, and inflicting punishments upon,
their fellows, according to a code they
themselves have laid down, and this with-
out the slightest semblance of legal author-
ity ; abuses do not creep, but walk boldly
and bodily into their system.

It is not the action of an entire section
of the settlers, who, incited by the com-
mis.sion of some heinous crime, or aggra-
vated by the perpetration of numerous pet-
ty offences, rise with one feeling, and as
one man, punish the offender.

The true history of the " rise and pro-
gress" of all "regulating" and " moder-
ating" may be given in a few words.

A few influential and determined men club
together to reform a county, or to prevent
crime, ah initio. Too often their proceed-
ings are in secret, and the punishment which
has been decreed to the offender, is admin-
istered by a party in disguise.

Such proceedings must necessarily awa-
ken distrust and fear, among the more
quiet of the settlers ; while the rogues,
whose characters are not yet known, has-
ten to obtain admittance to the corps
of regulators, both as a shield against ene-
mies, and a cloak to cover their own mis-
deeds.

Ere long the vindictive actions of the
party, or the rascalities of its members, call
down upon them the indignation of the
rest of the county, and a counter party is
got up, nominally to keep the regulators in
check.

The last formed parties are called mod-
erators, and invariably contain all the spare
rascals in the county, whom the regulators
have not already received into their ranks.

P'rom this mom ent, a deadly feud commen-
ces between the two, and ere long the war is
conducted with such fciocity, that two per-
sons of opposite factions seldom meet —
where there are no witnesses by to teU the

1850.]

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Laiv.

463

tale — without a combat, often fatal to one at
least.

Some few years since, in one of the bor-
der counties of Texas, the two factions met
in force. A regular battle ensued, in
which forty or more lives were lost ; and
the disgraceful affair was only terminated,
and peace restored, by the marching a
strong force from San Augustin.

To give the reader some idea of the con-
sequences of the system, we will state that
to our knowledge, in the county of Harri-
son, in Texas, is a small stream, or bayon,
known as "Widow's Creek," and upon its
side, within a distance of five miles, are
living — or at least were a year or two since
— twenty-five widows whose husbands were
all slain in this unnatural warfare ; and that
upon the plantation of a gentleman of our
acquaintance — in the same county — are the
graves of five former occupants of the
land, who all have perished with ball or
knife.

Marshall is the shiretown of the county,
and it would strike a member of the Peace
Congress with amazement, could he but
see the appearance of the men who visit
it upon a public day, armed as they are
verily to the teeth. We remember a peace-
able looking old gray-headed personage,
riding in, one fine morning, with no imple-
ments of war visible, except a double-bar-
rel and a bowie-knife, and the loungers re-
marked that he was rather pooiiy provided
for, and " wouldn't stand more than half a
chance."

The prevalence of so many weapons of
war, however, produce one good effect.
When voices are raised in anger, and knife
and pistol flash in the sun, the hangers on
about town, do not all run to see, but ac-
cording to their vernacidar, " tree" in the
first store or "grocery" convenient. N.B.
said " grocery" signifies " bar-room" as
also do " Confectionary" and " Coffee-
house."

Our immortal first Grandmother, — of the
enquiring mind, — and the respectable but in-
quisitive Mrs. Lot, might here have learned
a lesson that would have kept one from the
discovery that apples did not agree with
pairs, and the other, from engaging perma-
nently in the salt business.

At Montgomery's Point in 1841, the
"Regulators" and "Moderators" wound
up their affairs by the driving of sixty odd

persons of all ages and both sexes into the
Mississippi. Which was the conquering
and which the conquered party, we forget ;
but it is a matter of small moment — arca-
des amlo — two more villainous collections
of blacklegs and assassins, probably could
not be found, and had they performed over
again the exploit of the Kilkenny cats —
leaving nothing but their tales for us to re-
late,— it would have been a blessing to their
country.

Having drawn the distinction between
the so-called " Regulating" a county and
the application of Lynch-law proper, let us
examine the causes and effects of the latter,
as exemplified in a few prominent cases.

One of the earliest instances in Texas,
was in the case of the murder of an old
man named Birkham, and although the tale
has been told elsewhere, dressed in the
garb of romance, yet we will now relate^/ic
Jacts.

He had lived upon our frontier for many
years, and was in some respects a living
copy of, or rather might have served as an
original for Cooper's Leatherstocking.

With no family save a wife, he spent his
time in cultivating a small spot of ground,
in hunting and acting as a guide to survey-
ing parties. He also had great influence
over the Indians, and received a moderate
compensation from our Government or their
agents for his services in preserving peace
among the savages and preventing them
from the commission of depredations.

Although his cabin was near Trammel's
Trace, and in a part of the frontier where
many of the settlers were men of bad char-
acter yet he was respected and beloved by
all, and regarded in a truly patriarchal
light.

Did the Indians steal the settlers' horses ?
it was Charley Birkham who found
tbem and obtained their peaceful restitu-
tion. Did the neighbors differ in their set-
tlements } it was he to whom all such dis-
putes were referred, and his decision was
deemed as irrevocable, as that of the jNIedes
and Persians. The old man had been in-
vited to attend a log-rolling, raising, or
some affair of the kind at a distance from
home ; so far indeed, that he preferred to
start before night with the intention of
" camping out" upon the road.

Putting a pair of log-chains in his saddle
bags, in case they might be needed, he left

464

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

[May,

home some two hours before sunset, telKng
his wife to expect him upon the third day.

The third day came, and with it a party
of settlers wlio had been at tlie frolic, and
as usual all stopped at Birkham's cabin to
have a word of friendly chat, and to enquire
why he had not attended also. The con-
sternation of the poor wife may be well
conceived, and although the party endea-
vored to console and cheer her with the
hope that her husband's mule had ran
away, or that he had turned aside from
his path to aid a traveller, yet they had
but small expectations themselves of find-
ing him.

Had it been any other man in the set-
tlement, they would have given up the idea
of his being found, for it was a wild country
and had many wild inhabitants ; but old
Birkham had not an enemy in the world,
the Indians and the veriest desperadoes
loved and revered him.

They turned their horses' heads and rode
back upon the trail, until they reached the
nearest cabin, which according to their
calculation would be as far as he could have
ridden ere night overtook him.

The occupants of the cabin were a man
and woman, past the prime of life, and a
boy of perhaps fourteen years of age. They
had always been regarded as very suspi-
cious characters, not mingling at all with the
other settlersi and being visited by stran-
gers, whom the keen eyes of the backwoods-
men marked for villains.

Upon being interrogated, they stated,
that Birkham called there at sundown,
asked for a brand of fire, and refusing all
invitations to stay, informed them of his
intention to camp at a short distance fur-
ther on ; which they asserted he probably
did, as they found an old camp-fire the
next day, not more than a third of a mile
from the house. They exhibited no alarm
or hesitation, their story agreed with the
information obtained from the poor wife,
and at the spot indicated, the yet smokino-
remains of an old log corroborated the story.

They went on ; but from that time could
not obtain the slightest trace, yet they con-
tinued the search, alarming the country,
and ere another day had passed, nearly
every man in the range, white, black, or
copper-colored, was hunting the wood for
the old man.

It chanced at this time, that a roving

personage, who lived or rather " stayed"
in that section — slept where night overtook
him — assisted the planters in gathering their
cattle and breaking their horses — hunted,
trapped, &c. &c., had gone to the town of
Natchitoches upon the Red River, for the
purpose of disposing of his peltries, laying
in a supply of ammimition and tobacco, and
last, not least, enjoying his semi-annaal
"frolic."

To his great surprise, one day, he saw
an old and large roan mule, which he re-
cognized in a moment as Birkham's favorite
saddle-beast, ridden into the town by as
noted a scoundrel as the country could
afford. Our friend knew that something
was wrong, yet not dreaming it could be
anything more serious than a theft, deter-
mined that the man who could wrong Birk-
ham should meet with his deserts. For-
tunately— although such a man here, would
be considered as untrustworthy in the ex-
treme— the case was different there, and
the hunter was deemed an honest man, and
one whose word could always be depended
upon.

He went directly to the merchant who
transacted Birkham's business, stated the
case to him, and requested him to purchase
the mule if possible, for then he would be
certain that it had been stolen ; knowing as
he did, the value the old man had always
attached to him.

The merchant found his customer quite
ready for a bargain, and purchased the ani-
mal for one third its value, but while the
rogue was pocketing the money, our
'' hunting friend" came up and clapping
him upon the shoulder informed him that
he must return immediately to the "/me*"
with a small party who were about start-
ing as his presence was particularly required.

The alarm and confusion of the man,
were so great as to cause surprise to his
captors, who had anticipated the usual care-
lessness of a desperado under such circum-
stances, and determining to discover the
truth about the mule, taking the supposed
thief a short distance from the town, they
first tied his hands, and then adjusting a
rope around his neck, throwing the other
end over the projecting limb of a tree, in-
formed him that he must tell the whole
truth, or swing for it.

Had the rogue not been taken so by
surprise, his course would probably have

1850.]

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

465

been different ; but having come with " hot
foot," directly from the scene of the mur-
der ; without the least idea that it could
yet have been discovered, — to find himself
arrested almost upon the moment of his
arrival, gave him such a shock that his cus-
tomary impudence and coolness deserted
him, and for once in his life he told the
truth.

According to his story, when Birkhara
dismounted, the boy had taken off the
saddle bags with the intention of bringing
them into the house, but was prevented
from so doing by the owner, who refused
to stay, under the plea that it was neces-
sary for him to resume his journey very
early the next day, and that by " camping
out" he would be sooner prepared for a
start.

The weight of the log chains had been
mistaken for the weight of money, and an
act prompted by kindness upon his part
proved fatal to the old man.

After remaining a few moments, he had
taken a brand from the fire, mounted his
mule, and ridden on ; but the moment that
he left, the boy informed his father of the
supposed contents of the saddle-bags.

Their plot was soon laid, and almost as
soon executed. Creeping from the road to
the camp, they found their victim asleep,
and despatched him with a club ; then
seizing the supposed booty, they returned
to the house, but to undergo the disappoint-
ment of finding that they had committed a
most foul murder, which their fears now
told them would be certainly detected, and
all for nothing.

At the house they found another of the
gang, and with his assistance they returned
to the camp, removed and concealed the
body, then moved the fire to the spot upon
which their victim had been lying.

The saddle-bags were burned, the chain
concealed under a stack of fodder, and the
mule was given to the unfortunate rascal
who now stood trembling with a rope-
adorned neck.

In such a case, there was no fear of any
interference upon the part of the civil
powers of Natchitoches in behalf of the
criminal, and a sufficient guard having
been, without difficulty, collected, he was
soon travelling the same road again, and at
very respectable speed.

How much time was occupied in the re-

turn, we know not, but the time of their
arrival was after dark. Messengers were
sent to arouse the settlers, and ere the sun
had risen, sixty or seventy determined men
had collected together.

The first step was to arrest the criminals,
which was done easily. The chains were
found in the spot designated, and the body
of the poor old man was recovered. The
four prisoners were then taken to the scene
of the murder, and a jury having been
selected, they were tried, and although the
three last captured, proclaimed their inno-
cence, the proof against them was deemed
conclusive. The two men and the boy
were ordered to prepare for death within
half-an-hour.

We have before mentioned that among
the settlers of that section, were many men
of bad character, and in warning the present
party, great care had been taken lest any
of the former should be informed of the
proceeding ; but by some means the news
had reached them, and just as the judge
had pronounced sentence, a party of some
twenty of the most notorious rode up,
headed by what is there known as a "jack-
leg " lawyer, who acted as leader and
speaker for the party.

Armed to the teeth, they thought by
audacity, and their known desperation of
character, to compensate for their paucity
of numbers.

They were mistakven. At a word from
the leader, the guards drew around the pri-
soners and every man grasped his rifle.
Finding this would not do, the lawyer at-
tempted a parley, demanding to know the
reason why these persons were seized, why
they had neglected to summon himself
and his friends, how they dared proceed to
trial themselves, in place of taking them
before an " alcalde," and wound up with
stating, that he should make a speech to
the " crowd " come what might.

" Mr. — " replied his opponent, " these
persons have been tried for being all more
or less concerned in the murder of our old
friend Birkham, they have had a fiiir trial,
there is no doubt of their guilt, the only
one not accessory before the fact, has con-
fessed to crimes enough to hang a dozen ;
they have half an hour to live, and for that
time you may exercise your lungs if you
choose, but before you commence permit
me to make a few remarks.

466

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

[May,

" We have not asked you, for wo did
not need you. We know you, and we
know if we did not ourselves punish these
villains ; by your means, in some manner,
they would probably escape. You and
your party may remain, although there are
some among them who are far from wel-
come, but let them take this lesson home
to themselves. We will no longer tolerate
the commission of crime in our settlement
or near it. Now speak, but stop at my
command, and keep at a proper distance
from us, for else some of you now may
meet with a warmer reception than you
would relish."

They were completely cowed ; the law-
yer, however, made his speech, which was
listened to by very scowling countenances,
and when the command was given he
ceased. The three males were then placed
each upon the back of a horse, with a
noose round their necks ; the other end of
the rope being thrown over a limb above
their heads.

Finding there was no hope left, the man
and boy confessed. The two men were
then hung, but the boy reprieved, and
ordered with his mother, to quit the
country, and not to return under penalty
of death.

Thus were punished, and justly, two
villains of the deepest dye, who would
certainly have escaped justice had any at-
tempt been made to have inflicted it by
process of law.

We shall now relate an event which oc-
curred in county, Texas, whether an

use or an abuse of Lynch Law, we leave
for the reader to determine ; but, in order
that he may have some data to govern his
judgment, it will be necessary for him to
understand the situation of the county.

Although populous and wealthy, for a
new county, it boasted of no jail, which,
indeed if it had possessed one, would have
been of but little service, as there was no
town of sufficient population to be a safe
location.

That they had no jail, was nothing
strange, as, if our memory serve us rightly,
but three or four of the interior and south-
ern counties were so blessed ; and but two
of these, those at Beaumont, and Brazoria,
of any real use. In the city of Houston,
was to be found one, in which, if you
would keep a prisoner, it was necessary to

weigh him down with irons, and then guard
the house externally day and night. In
Galveston, an old brig which had made an
experimental trip in shore, upon her own
account, during a very high tide, and re-
solutely refused to return, was pressed into
the service, and would have answered re-
markably well, had she not been so com-
pletely rotten that a man might kick a hole
through her, and walk quietly off. A pris-
oner tried the experiment one night, and it
succeeded to admiration.

Until a year or two previous to the an-
nexation of the quondam Republic, petty
offences had been almost unknown, except
in the counties bordering upon the United
States. There, especially near the line,
were to be found necessarily, many whose
crimes had driven them to a residence upon
the confines of two Governments. This
was particularly the case with the upper
counties bordering upon, and near the Red
River.

The first mentioned county had, how-
ever, been very free from absolute crime,
until a short period preceding the time of
which we write.

The gamblers, and those, in especial, of
the most petty description, hung around
the county town, despite the determination
of Judges and District Attornies, assisted
by very stringent laws, to suppress them.

In fact, perchance, one great stumbling
block in the path of Justice, was this very
over-severity.

By the laws then in existence, it was a
crime, punishable with imprisonment, or
very heavy fine, to play at cards for
amusement, in any public house, or in any
house or place within one hundred rods
distance from the public road, and we
believe the act is in existence at this mo-
ment.

Now, the bench and bar generally were
much addicted to this manner of passing
away an evening, and however careful
they might be in the indulgence of this pro-
pensity, they frequently laid themselves
liable.

Judge S , whose proverbial pom-
posity had earned him the souhriquet of
" Old Dignity, " one morning called
upon the clerk to read the indictments
against a number of gamblers, and heard,
to his perfect amazement, his own name
included.

1850.]

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

467

"What !" exclaimed the astonished offi-
cial— " what ! Read that again, sir."

Again the clerk read a long paper, set-
ting forth, in the plurality of words that
lawyers so delight in, how he, the said
Judge, had offended against the majesty
of the Republic, by playing at cards, &c.,
&c.

The Judge thought a moment, and
then exclaimed : " How, sir ! cannot the
' Court'* amuse himself in the ' Court's' own
room, with the * Court's' own wife ?" In
a rage he adjourned the Court.

The fact was, that the Judge had sim-
ply been playing a quiet game of" eucha"

with Mrs. S , suspecting no harm ;

and some mischievous individual, by peep-
ing through the crevices of his log castle,
had witnessed the transgression, and present-
ed him before the Grand Jury.

It fared no better with his successor.

Judge J , who also made an attempt to

punish those who set at nought the laws,
and his authority, by gambling publicly.

The consequence of the attempt was,
that the Judge had a quiet hint, that he, and
nearly every member of the bar — includ-
ing, we believe, the States Attorney — had
been presented ; and he was forced to fol-
low the example of his predecessor — ad-
journ the Court, and tacitly admit himself
conquered.

At length came one, who had never
yielded to the fascinations of cards, or ac-
knowledged the blandishments of the dice-
box, who spent his evenings in his own
room, attending to his ow^n business, a
stern, just, clear-headed, uncompromising
man, — one that yielded nothing to custom,
or prejudice, and would not swerve a hair
from his line of duty, or detain the Court
for half an hour, because — or — or — the great
guns of the session had not yet slept off
the fumes of their over-night draughts, —
one that looked upon a gambler as he weuld
upon a snake, punishing him to the full
extent of the law ; and yet the gamblers
laughed.

His directions to the District Attorney,
and to the Grand Jury, were particularly

* This worthy was so impressed with the dig-
nity of his office, that, in speaking of himself,
whether in or out of the halls of justice, upon all
possible occasions he would use the words " the
Court."

clear, and very pointed upon this subject ;
yet the gamblers laughed on.

They were indicted, yet they laughed —
tried and convicted — their cachinations
ceased not — sentenced to a fine of one
thousand dollars each, and imprisonment,
until paid, with a separate imprisonment
beside — and all without sobering them ;
but when the Judge very coolly ordered
the Sheriff to make it his particular busi-
ness to see that they were well guarded,
until the close of the term , when he should
send them with him to Houston, with an
order to admit the party to the freedom
of the jail there ; then, with the exception
of an old fox by the name of Williams,
they presented a decidedly blue and dis-
comfited appearance.

This Williams was an original, — a per-
fect oddity, — and although he was notori-
ously lazy, and a petty gambler, yet he
possessed such a fund of wit, droller}', and
good humor, that many who scorned him
and his profession, would gather around
him, as he sat in the porch of the " Gro-
cery," spinning his quizzical yarns, or
amusing himself at the expense of some
verdant specimen of humanity.

He was not so to be frightened, but, as
he left the Court, addressing the Sheriff
familiarly as '' Joe," requested him to in-
form the audience, — not forgetting the
Judge and Jury, — that he should open a
Faro bank in whatever place he might be
temporarily '' hung up," and that they were
respectfully invited to attend.

As soon as the session was terminated,
the Sheriff prepared to muster a sufficient
guard to convey so desperate a set as his
prisoners to Houston, but Williams of-
fered to take charge of them himself,
pledging his word for their and his own
safe delivery, and although his proposition
was not fully accepted, so much confidence
was really placed in the scamp's word,
that the Sheriff accompanied them alone.

They were in due form consigned over
to the care of the Harris County jailer,
their horses being deposited in a stable,
subject to their order, and as the Sheriff
was leaving, Williams very quietly inquir-
ed if he had any commands for home, as
he should be there the next day.

It was upon a Saturday that they were
imprisoned ; and on Sunday morning, as
the boarders at the Hotel in M were

468

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

[May

at the breakfast table, to their amazement
Williams and his troupe walked in, and
took their seats, as if nothing had hap-
pened.

On b?ing questioned, they answered that
they did not think the people in Houston
were glad to see them, and not wishing to be
deemed intruders, they concluded to leave.

They had ridden sixty miles, and ap-
peared in no hurry to ride any further,
and when the Sheriff arrived that night,
the first person who approached, and shook
hands with him, was Williams. He knew
that in delivering him over to the authori-
ties of Harris County, the Sheriff's duty
had been performed ; that they would
never trouble themselves to reclaim their
prisoners, whom they had been extremely
loath to receive, and that in all probabil-
ity he should hear no more of it, ex-
cept as a good joke, which was indeed the
ease.

This jail-delivery was, however, a mere
bagatelle in comparison with some others,
at least, as far as it concerned the
well-being of the public. It is a strange
and unaccountable peculiarity of south-
western men that, in case of any out-
rage, they will risk life and limb, ex-
pend time and money; in fact, stop at
nothing to seize the person of the criminal ;
but when once taken, not one in twenty
would give himself the least trouble about
guarding the prisoner, and the chances are
much in favor of his escaping.

Perhaps, the excitement of a human
chase may account for the former, but what
may be the reason of the culpable negli-
gence evinced in the latter, we know not.

A man, by the name of Decker, had
committed a cold-blooded murder upon his
son-in-law, under circumstances of unpar-
alleled atrocity.

The unfortunate man was shot down,
while he held in his arms an infant, — his
own child, — and the grandchild of the
murderer.

This affair occurred in Brazoria Coun-
ty, which, however, was not the one in
which Decker resided, and, we believe, no
effort was made to punish the criminal —
with the exception of a trumped-up ex-
amination before a Justice of the Peace,
got up, in all probability, to prevent fur-
ther proceedings.

Decker returned to M County, and

with him came the wife and child of the
murdered man.

The people of the County, exasperated
at the crime, were rendered almost farious
at the audacity of the fellow in return! no^
to settle himself quietly down among them,
bringing with him the spolia opima^ for
which the murder had been committed ;
for Lacey (the victim) was possessed of a
handsome property, consisting of money,
cattle, and, perhaps, a negro or so — all of
which Decker had appropriated.

The citizens, irritated as they were, de-
termined to proceed legally, if possible,
and accordingly, obtained affidavits, upon
which to found the warrant for his appre-
hension.

The issuing of the warrant was an easy
matter — the serving of it, another affair,
for two years they attempted, sometimes
with large parties, and sometimes with
small, to arrest him, but all in vain.

Although travellers seldom passed, or
stoppad at his house, which was a speciea
ofbackwood's hotel, without seeing hiui,
yet however secretly an expedition might
be planned, it always failed, and it became
a matter of certainty that there were spies
in the camp.

For a time the proceedings were dropped,
and emboldened from having so often foiled
them, Decker at lenG^th beo-an to neglect
his quarantine, and to ride about the
country — laughing at the repeated failures
of the officers, boasting of his exploits,
and threatening the lives of all those whom
he considered as his enemies. Finally, as
if incited by the devil, who is said to be
ever prompting his clients to their own de-
struction, he had the audacity not only to

ride through the town of M on a vSa-

turday afternoon, when he must have
known that three-fourths of the settlers
within ten miles distance would be there,
but actually dared to stop at the " Gro-
cery," call for a glass, and invite all pre-
sent to join him.

His daring impudence so astonished the
people, that he was allowed to ride out
of town at the same deliberate pace that he
had entered it. He was mounted upon an
extremely fine mare, and accompanied by
a villainous looking personage on foot,
whose cerebral developments would have
hung him without any further testimony,
had he been tried by a jury of phrenologist

1850.]

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

469

Although they had passed through the
village without interruption, they were not
to escape so easily. The papers necessary
for their legal capture were already made
out, and in a few minutes the Deputy-
Sheriff with one assistant, mounted in pur-
suit.

They came upon them at the edge of a
wood, a mile from town, and an accident
prevented escape or resistance. As they
dashed up near to them, the volunteer be-
came so much excited or alarmed, that in
endeavoring to cock his gun — a double-
barrel — he pulled both triggers, — a tre-
mendous explosion was the result, and he
very nearly bagged the sheriff- depute.

As the two travellers were plodding their
way over deep sand, they had not heard
the hoofs of their pursuers' horses, and the
shot was the first intimation they had of
their propinquity. Decker had dismount-
ed, and his friend was riding and carrying
a gun, which the horse — now become res-
tive— prevented him from using, and the
Sheriff's rifle, pointed at the culprit 's head,
caused an immediate halt and surrender.

Every step had been strictly legal, the
prisoner was taken before a magistrate, who
ordered him to be confined, heavily ironed,
and a guard set over him, until the High
Sheriff should return from Austin, when
he was to be submitted to his charge and
conveyed to Brazoria.

As for the travelling companion, who
announced his intention of " sticking by
the Captain," one of the assembled crowd
took him aside and advised his immediate
departure, on the ground, that his physiog-
nomy did not give general satisf;iction, and
that the account he gave of himself was
not believed to be gospel.

The gentleman was probably innocent
of any acquaintance with Shakspeare, but
his actions proved that he acquiesced with
Falstaff in his opinion of the relative merits
of discretion and valor.

Now, any reasonable person would have
supposed the prisoner to have been sui'e of
safe keeping ; and, for a few days, he was.
A physician gave up his office — a small
building constructed of neatly hewn logs
and strong as a fort, to be used as a jail —
a part of the chain cable of some snagged
steamer, was made fast to him, indepen-
dent of his handcuffs, and guards were
plenty enough for a few nights. But,

alas, the sheriff was absent too long, and
one night the Deputy found himself with-
out a relief at supper time ; so, stepping
out to seek one, at a few paces from the
temporary jail he met his superior who had
that instant returned. While chatting a
moment he heard a noise that alarmed him,
and caused him to retrace his stops immedi-
ately. It wasloo late, the bird had flown
— chains and all — through a window which
which was forced open.

At this very moment, a tremendou.s
thunder-storm came up, the rain poured
down in torrents, and the Egyptian dark-
ness which shrouded the night, was seem-
ingly rendered tenfold more dense by the
frequent and vivid flashes of lightning.

But despite the terrific violence of the
storm, which seemed as though it were an
earnest of the wrath of Heaven upon them
for their culpable negligence in allowing so
great a crime to go unpunished, the whole
village was alarmed, and a large party sal-
lied forth in pursuit.

Between midnight and morning, they
all returned, dropping in, one after the
other, dispirited, drenched, and covered
with mud but determined upon renewing the
chase as soon as the sun should lend his
aid.

Decker was followed the next day by
men on horseback and on foot, and al-
though trailed, step by step for miles, yet
the first accurate intelligence received from
him was the advent of his son, who brought
back the chain cable with his father's com-
pliments, and thanks for their hospitality.

A year after, the same villain ran a very
narrow chance in Houston, where he had
the impudence to appear in the public
streets en j^lcin jour.

No sooner did the sheriff know of his pre-
sence, than he obtained a warrant for his
arrest, but Decker was warned, mounted
his horse, and started for home, riding for
his life. The roads were very heavy, and
again a violent storm arose. All this
however, did not deter the ofBcer — who saw
him leave ; a race and running fight ensued
between the two, in which some shots were
fired, yet, although, the parties were for a
time neck and neck. Decker finally es-
caped by dashing into a thicket.

This man a short time afterwards, sold
out his farm to two Germans, received a
handsome sum of money, and in a few

470

Uses and Abuses of hynch Law.

[May,

months both of tlicm died so mysteriously
and suddenly, tliatthsre was but little ques-
tion of foul play upon his part, as he was
at the time a joint occupant of the house.

He is, for aught we know, yet, " un-
whipt of justice" unless he has met with
that violent death which is the almost cer-
tain fate of such desperadoes.

Soon after these events occurred, a very
heavy robbery was committed, the robber
arrested and confined for sonic months in a
vacant house in the village.

In this instance, the person who had
been robbed furnished the necessary funds
to hire a guard, and it was thought the
culprit would taste the thong of justice ;
but no : as soon as it was found that the
proof was positive, that he had really ob-
tained some ten or twelve thousand dollars,
and could pay well for assistance, he was
spirited away and heard of no more.

Two great crimes had also been commit-
ted in the county. A gun — probably a
double -barrel — was discharged through the
window of a gentleman of the name of
Floyd, while the fauiily were eating supper.
The father was instantly killed and the
others more or less wounded. All attempts
to discover the perpetrator were useless.

The murder of a Captain Taylor was a
more recent event. While sitting in an
unfinished house, at night, playing a game
of chess with his wife, in the act of moving
a piece, he fell dead, pierced through the
heart with a rifle ball ; and as there was a
violent storm raging, his wife did not dis-
tinguish the crack of the gun from a simul-
taneous electric explosion.

The chimney of the house had not yet
been finished, and the villain fired through
the vacancy. For a long time, this, like
the former, was a deed of mystery, but at
length a quarrel between two ruffians in
Houston, — which resulted in the death of
the one, and capture of the other — revealed
among deeds of equal atrocity, that Taylor
had been killed by a bravo, for a sum of
money.

The veil that was thus partly raised,
disclosed partially other equally fearful se-
crets, and it became a matter of certainty
that a clan of villains was in existence pro-
bably a part of the Murrel gang, who were
engaged in every species of crime — from
horse-stealing and counterfeiting to kid-
napping and murder. ^ .

That the number of these desperadoes in

M county was increasing, admitted of

no doubt, and that such was the fact need
be a matter of surprise to none, since they
found they were in very little danger of
apprehension, or if apprehended, that they
incurred but small risk of punishment.

Is it a wonder then, when murder, vio-
lence and crime were stalking boldly among
them in open day, unchecked by law, when
the county was constantly receiving fresh
accessions of lawless persons from other
counties and States, when everything tend-
ed toward anarchy, and that, right speedily,
that the honest and well-meaning citizens,
should at the next provocation take into
their hands, the sword of justice, which the
paralized arm of law was impotent to
wield .''

A man whom we shall call G • we

suppress the name from the belief that
some of his relatives are respectable persons
— was tried for cattle stealing in Harris
County.

Whipping is the ignominious punishment
that attends conviction of this crime, and
in hope to evade it, G engaged a law-
yer to defend him ; giving him his saddle-
horse, as fee.

The case was evidently going against the
accused, and the lawyer whispered to him
to get out of the room, upon any excuse,
and when once f^iirly in the street, to run
for life.

The advice was taken, and G ac-
companied by an officer left the room, but
seeing the horse which he had given the
lawyer, saddled and bridled, standing before
the door, he leaped upon his back, and
was soon beyond danger of pursuit.

For a year or two after this exploit, he
was not heaixl from, but at length became

bold enough to visit M ■ and remain

for some time.

Unfortunately for him he inspired many
of the residents with dislike, and when they
discovered who he truly was, some of them
— out of pure mischief — rather than a de-
sire to further the ends of justice — had him
arrested and taken to Houston, where the
ignominious lash was applied to his back.

He then again returned to M burn-
ing with resentment, and swearing ven-
geance against all who had been concerned
in his arrest, but soon found the town too
hot to hold him, and was accordingly, upon

1850.]

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law,

471

the eve of retreating further north, when his
horse was attached by the sheriff, for debt.

At the time the warrant was served,

G was mounted upon the animal, —

a fine and valuable beast — and refused to
surrender him An altercation ensued ;
whether he then drew a weapon or not we
do not know ; but it was proved that the
sherifi" seized a rail and forced him oiF the
horse.

The moment G touched the ground

he drew a pistol and shot the officer down.
He was seized immediately, and taken to
the court-house to await an examination
of the sheriffs wound.

The physicians pronounced it to be cer-
tainly mortal ; although they said the un-
fortunate man might linger in agony for
days or weeks.

As soon as this was announced to the
crowd, measures were taken for assembling
all of the settlers living near ; a judge and
jury were chosen, and the man after a trial
— which must be accounted fair, if any
trial under such cii'cumstances can be fair —
was found guilty — of what we know not,
for murder it was not yet, and condemned
to die upon the gallows, as soon' as his vic-
tim died.

For over a month did the sheriff linger,
writhing in torture, but we much question
if the mental agony of the condemned cul-
prit was not infinitely the more difficult of
the two to bear.

He knew that the sentence was predicat-
ed upon the supposed impending death of
his victim, and as lie lived on from day to
day, the hope of an ultimate recovery must
at times have forced itself upon him, only to
make his calmer thoughts the more bitter.

The hour arrived at last, the officer died
during the night, and as it was necessary
to bury him as soon as possible, that duty
was performed upon the next afternoon.

As it may well be supposed, there was
a very large gathering at the funeral, and
the whole number present, proceeded di-
rectly from the grave to the house where
the prisoner was confined, and taking him
a short distance, executed him.

This, perhaps, under other circumstan-
ces than those that preceded it, might have
excited as much indignation as did the ex-
ecution of the " Vicksburg gamblers" — of
which we shall hereafter speak. It may be
said that the crime was but manslaughter ;

yet let no one judge the actors harshly, who
does not know from experience, the danger
of living in a county situated as this was,
and cannot realize the imperative necessity
that existed of cliccking the tide of crime
and vice, setting in so strong among them,
by the prompt and immediate punishment
of any and every wilful transgressor.

The case which we are about to record,
has probably never been equalled in the
singularity of its attendant circumstances.
The meiitcd punishment — the atrocity of
the crime and noted villainous character of
the criminal — the attempt to force a trial
to serve him as a cloak, which but renewed
the fable of Hercules and his fated lion-
skin, the fact that he received his re-
ward from the hands of an officer of justice,
and as it might almost be said in open
court — all combined, to invest it with a
singular and romantic interest.

" Lem M'Guire" was known throughout
Texas as a thorough- paced villain and
blackleg. Accustomed from infancy to the
most infamous companions, as he increased
in years so did he grow old in crime and at
the age of twenty was deemed by his com-
panions, worthy of the front rank in their
columns.

One of the first acts that made his name
well-known, was his participation — while
yet a mere child — in an affray in which a
friend and protector of his, was shot, — and
most deservedly — by a tavern-keeper, up-
on whom he had made a murderous attack.

M'Guire fought like a young ticer — as
he was — clinging to the landlord with his
hands and teeth, and though oying with
rage and gi'ief at the death of his patron,
seemed perfectly regardless of the danger
to himself.

We have no intention of writing the his-
tory of his career, but shall merel}' note an
incident or two to give our readers an idea
of the man.

He had been brought up by a man of his
own kind, named Johnson, who furnished
him with a home — such as it was, — until
by his practices the latter had become pos-
sessed of sufficient property to awaken
M'Guire's cupidity, and a determination to
become possessed of it by foul means, as
he could not by fair ones.

He accordingly laid his plans, and caused
Johnson to become involved in a quarrel,
in which his life was taken, at the instiga-

472

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

[May,

tion of the serpent he had nourished, who,
immediately after married the widow — a
woman of twice his age — and thus accom-
plished his designs.

A few months before his death, he paid
a very characteristic visit to Houston, where
he succeeded as usual in bringing himself
into speedy notice. Entering one of the
bar-rooms of the place in a state of semi-
intoxication, and taking offence at a simple
German who presided over the bottles,
whose imperfect knowledge of the language
prevented him from imderstanding correctly
what was required, M'Guire struck him in
the face with a heavy cut-glass decanter,
breaking it in the act, and severly injuring
the man.

Among the crowd which collected,
M'Guire espied a Judge of one of the
Courts, and turning upon him immediately
knocked him down ; then crossing the
street where stood the Mayor " spectator of
the fight" — as he supposed at a safe distance
— the tiger prostrated Mm also at a blow.

He then retreated, walking up the main
street of the town in triumph, and no more
was seen of him — although warrants were
issued for his apprehension — until the se-
cond day ; when he rode down the street,
stopped his horse at the scene of his late
disturbance, and calling out the proprie-
tor, told him he had travelled some dis-
tance out of his way to bid him good bye ;
and then rode out of town.

At this time he resided, we think, not
far from the town of Crocket, and soon after
his return from his Houston exploit, he de-
termined, for reasons of his own, whether
from enmity, to remove a troublesome
witness, or a partner in crime, we know
not ; to have one of his neighbors " put out
of the way."

Not being willing to take the trouble
himself, he hired another, a journeyman at
the trade of blood, to do the business for
him. For some reasons, the bravo defer-
red the murder, until at length M'Guire
imagined that he had turned traitor, and
betrayed his designs to his enemy ; which
belief was strengthened by the ultimate re-
fusal of the man to have anything to do
with it.

So far, M'Guire had only gained the
necessity of removing two persons in place
of one ; and, perhaps agreeing with Dr.

Franklin's adage," if you wish a thing done,"
go ; if you do not, send ;''"' determined this
time to do his own work.

To murder his accomplice, he had a
double motive, fear and revenge. Having
secured the aid of one or more persons up-
on whom he could depend, he rode over to
the house of the supposed traitor, and call-
ing him out into the yard, in front of the
house, in full sight of his wife and family,
shot him down like a dog ; then the party
tm'ncd their horses toward the house of the
one whom he had marked before for his
victim, and killed him in precisely the same
manner.

All this happened in broad day light,
nor did his audacity cease here, but know-
ing that a magistrate lived near by, the
party again mounted and rode to his plan-
tation.

M'Guire was probably deceived in the
man, whom he must either have supposed
to have been a reckless being like himself,
or one who might be influenced by fear or
money, to subserve his ends.

The magistrate was very coolly informed
that the}'' came to be tried, that he must
go through some form, no matter what, and
give them a certificate of acquittal, which
although the magistrates' court was only a
preliminary one, they imagined, combined
with the known and certain danger of med-
dling with them, would be sufficient to pre-
vent any further inquiry.

As the reader may well imagine, the
magistrate, who was almost alone in the
house, was extremely alarmed, but had
presence of mind to conceal his feelings,
and put the villain off, upon the plea that
it was necessary to have some other per-
sons present, and also, to prepare certain
papers, which could not be done at a mo-
ment's notice. It was Saturday, and he
promised them, that if they returned on
Monday morning, he would have every-
thing fixed for them, — which he certainly
did.

On Monday, McGuire appeared, with a
reinforcement, making in all five or sis,
and found the magistrate sitting at the far-
ther end of the hall. For the informa-
tion of those who are not skilled in the
houses of a new county, we would say,
that a double-log cabin — such an one as the
magistrate's — consists usually of two large
rooms, separated by a wide hall, which, in

1850.]

Uses and Abuses of Ly7ich Law.

473

pleasant weather, serves the family for a
dining and sitting-room, but being gene-
rally open at both ends, is not used in in-
clement days.

From all appearances, they found that
the trial was to be an affair of more detail
than they admired, and McGuire, consi-
dering himself now to be in a condition to
dictate his own terms, insolently demand-
ed, if the Justice intended to do as he was
ordered — adding, that if he did not, and
that immediately, he would cut him to
pieces with his knife. The Justice re-
plied, that he intended to proceed accord-
ing to law, and in no other way ; but
hardly had he spoken, when McGuire,
knife in hand, followed by his friends, rush-
ed upon him.

At this critical moment, the side-doors
were dashed open, and on either side a
volley from six rifles was poured upon
them, McGuire, and, we believe, two
others, fell dead, the rest, more or less
injured, were seized, and bound with
cords.

It was like a " coupe de theatre^'''' except
that it exceeded one, as reality ever does
fiction. We are sure that no melo-dra-
matist ever invented or got up a more
perfect or successful affair ; and who may
say that it was not pure, even-handed jus-
tice.

We should like to have seen a non-re-
sistant in the magistrate's situation, and
to know whether he would have turned the
gang loose upon the world, and have sacri-
ficed his own life, rather than — by an ex-
hibition of similar coolness and conduct —
have done a deed that would entitle him
to the thanks of his country.

But we are in error ; a non-resistant
can fill no magistrate's chair, for, he ac-
knowledges and believes in no law, except,
perhaps, for his own benefit. Speaking of
non-resistants, reminds us of a sad expose
of one of the earlier apostles of that exceed-
ingly astute sect, which, — believing that
our readers may, perhaps, be equally will-
ing with us to escape, pro tem^ the perusal
of a history of guilt and ciime, and to ex-
change it for a more amusing subject, — we
will relate.

It was years since, — ere the delicate hue
of the peony upon our cheek had been
changed by a Southern sun, to the more
sombre tint of a half dried lemon, — that

we were n^duced and seduced, by a series
of false pretences, to attend a lecture some-
where in that land of wooden hams,
wooden nutmegs, and wooden-headed
pedagogues, known, emphatically, as Down
East. A non-resistant lecturer, — one
that was deemed a buiuing and a shining
light among that generation of saints, was
to hold forth in exposition of his then new-
fangled doctrines,

A numerous audience had assembled,
and after reading to them a chapter from
the Bible, the anti-pugnacious gentleman
proceeded with as superlative a mass of
nonsense as it ever fell to the lot of our
ears to endure. First, he attacked the
profession of arms, and consigned to his
Satanic majesty, at one fell swoop,
all who meddled or made with sword or
gun, from the victorious general, dealing
death and devastation upon the enemy,

" Proud Cumberland prancing, insuhing the slain,"

to the veriest fourth corporal of the ragged
militia

Having demolished the men of war, se-
cundum artcm^ he went to work upon the
men of peace, and at one stroke of his vera-
cious tongue, packed off" to Tophet the en-
tire generation of law-givers, and law-ex-
pounders. Legislators, and common coun-
cil-men, judges and juries, lawyers and
clients, ofSce-sweepcrs and jailers — all to
there keep company with the Armigers,

" Our Maker alone," said this authori-
tative personage, " has a right to control
men ; the Justice, who usurps His right,
commits practical blasphemy ; the higher
the grade, the more audacious the crimi-
nal, therefore, a king or a president is the
most wicked wretch on earth."

He then denounced all that submitted to
the laws, or acknowledged any earthly
power or authority, and even asserted that
it was a crime for a man to resist another,
when his life was at stake, although by so
doing he might preserve it, and prevent
the commission of murder.*

*NoN Resistants. — In New England, they have
a Non Resistant Society, which held its anniver-
sary in Boston a few days ago. One member,
during the past year, has backslidden so far as to
knock down a man, and he was expelled.

Mr. Garrison defined the principle of non-resist-
ance by instancing a case like the following: — I
a man is assaulted by a highwayman or a mur-

474

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

[May,

" Should a man steal from you," con
tinued lie, " go to him, and remonstrate
with him ; should a man purloin my watch,
I would endeavor to obtain restitution by
an appeal to his conscience. If I failed, I
would go unto him again and again ; and
should ho yet prove entirely hardened and
depraved, no eiForts of mine should ever
seek redress by law.''''

" Yes," added he, warming with his
subject. " Yes, cold as the night is,
should a man lay his hand upon my coat,
no resistance would ho meet from me ; he
might have that.^ and my cloak also, be-
fore I would sin by raising my hand
against my fellow, or appearing in that ta-
bernacle of the evil one — a Court."

Now, at this time sat in the centre of
the building a certain noisy, turbulent,
empty-headed, pettifogging lawyer, who,
since that time, has made some noise in the
world as a loco foco demagogue — empty
vessels being the very ones of all the world
to make a noise, when tossing to and fro
in the turbulent sea of politics. S(|uire
Dan, as he was called, not admiring the
animadversions east, with no sparing hand,
upon a profession, of which he was — if not
a limb — at least a twig, although a very
small one, arose and addressed the orator
of the evening, to the latter's astonishment,
and that of the audience.

" Sir," said Dan, "did I understand
you to say that you would neither offer re-
sistance to, nor prosecute, a person taking
your coat .''"

derer, he must not resist, even for the purpose of
saving his life, or the lives of his wife and children,
unless such resistance can be effected without en-
dangering the life or limbs of his opponent ; he
must not strike a single blow, in self-defence, that
may, by any possibility, break an arm, or a finger
even, of his assailant.

Another speaker coincided with Mr. Garrison,
and remarked that, should his house be entered by
robbers that night, he should offer no resistance
unless they could be expelled without receiving
the slightest bodily injury ! But he should en-
deavor, on the morrow, to ferret out the burglars,
]not, however, through the aid of the laws,) and
have a friendly talk with them, and try, with words
of kindness, to win them back to the forsaken
paths of honesty and virtue. If any articles of
which he had been robbed should be found in their
possession, he should refuse to take them back,
and beg of the misguided men to retain them, un-
less indeed they pertinaciously lu-ged and entreated
him to receive them. • - ■ v.

" I said so, sir," replied the amazed
non-resistant.

"But," continued Dan, "I wish to
know if you really avow that determina-
tion upon your own part, or merely mean
it as a part of your lecture, and an exem-
plification of the principles which you pro-
fess .?"

" I say distinctly, sir, that ray conduct
would be as 1 have stated," was the reply.

" Well then," said his tormentor, rising,
and blowing out his fat cheeks, ' very like
a whale.' " I am a lawyer, and like to put
everything to the proof, and now, I call the
audience to witness your words. I know
a poor man, sir, and an honest one, that
needs a coat more than you do, and if you
do not retract, I shall take it from you, and
give it to him."

Dan started for the rostrum, and even
was about ascending, when the alarmed
and astounded exponor of non-resistantism
cried " peccavi !"

" Stop, sir," said he, " I was preaching
what we should., not what we (Zo perform."

Our lecturer's course was cut short by
an untoward event. A severe defeat at
the game of draughts was formerly, and,
probably, is now, termed " a skunk." The
man was "skunked."

Great events hinge upon small causes.
A refractory pig is said to have occasioned
the late war between the United States
and England, and the capture of one of
the hereabove hinted-at, odoriferous pur-
loiners of poultry, — known " down East"
as " Wethersfield dogs," — by a party of
urchins, resulted in the non-resistant's de-
feat.

In the midst of an impassioned harangue,
the animal was thrown into the centre of
the building. It was cold weather, the
doors were closed and a brisk fire burned
in the stoves. An immediate retreat was
the necessary consequence.

These " non-resistant" gentry may do
very well in some quiet hum-drum eastern
village, where the appearance of the par-
son's wife in a new silk dress, is enough to
produce an extraordinary excitement ; where
a rise in hoe-handles, axe-helves, or rake-
stales is a signal for an emeute ; such as it
is , where the principal amusement of the
ladies is found in those female " Schools for
Scandal," yclept sewing circles, and fa-
mous for the instruction of juvenile femin-

1850.]

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

475

ine " Ideas" in the art of '' shooting" at
the reputation of every female in the vil-
lage, " present company excepted," and of
giving an especial stab at the character of
those whose position in society is superior
to their own : where the anti-slavery al-
manac, the most " ideal" work of the age,
and fully equal in imaginative description
to Gulliver's Travels, Baron Munchausen,
and Peter Wilkins combined, is purchased,
and every one of its impudent and bare-
faced lies swallowed as pure gospel. They
may do there, but in the Great West,
men and women of very different calibre
are required. Accustomed from infancy
to the excitement of the real dangers ever
attending the settlement of new territory,
they can neither understand nor forgive the
pertinacity with which some of their east-
ern brethren insist upon letting their own
business alone, and minding that of their
neighbors and the community in gen-
eral.

Cross the mountains, descend the " Belle
Rinere,"and the " Father of Waters," and
you will find everything upon a gigantic
scale. Earth, air, and water all combine
to produce this effect. Land more rich
than Canaan's soil, yields overweening crops
of cotton and of corn. The storms are
hurricanes, the rivers vast inland seas ; and,
is it not surprising, where everything is
expanded, that man should partake of the
general feature .'

It is so, indeed, and while in size, they
rival the sons of Anak, their virtues, their
courage, their hospitality, and their crimes
are all in the same proportion.

The entire world cannot produce such a
collection of unmitigated scoundrels as are
to be found there, some spending their time
upon the rivers, some passing for planters
and tavern-keepers, scattered through the
South and West at convenient distances,
making a chain of posts for the accommo-
dation of their brethren, and others prowl-
ing about under various guises, as horse-
dealers, negTO drovers and peddlers, but
carrying on the more profitable trades of
negro stealing, robbery and murder. Com-
mencing in most cases with gambling, the
western scamp seldom pauses in his career,
until he has reached the topmost round in
the ladder of crime.

No boat ever travels over the Mississip-

VOL. V. NO. IV. NEW SERIES.

pi, Ohio, or their tributaries, without the
accustomed freightage of " Chevaliers d'
Industrie," as much superior in audacity
and villainy to their congeners of the old
world, as is an incarnate demon of hell to
a common every-day rascal.

Boats are owned by associations of these
scoundrels, run to facilitate gambling and
robbing operations, and we would here
warn all tyros in Western travel to enquire
well into the character of both boat and
captain before embarking, and when on
board, to be seduced into no game of
chance — even for amusement — with a stran-
ger.

Some few years since, we think in 1842,
a man was hung in Cincinnati, who, al-
though but twenty-four years of age, con-
fessed to twenty-two murders.

According to his own story, he had been
for three years of his career a nominal bar-
keeper upon a Western boat, in order that
he might have a better chance to commit
and conceal crime.

Travelling as a solitary gambler, while
a mere boy, he had marked one of the pas-
sengers for his prey, under the idea that he
carried with him a large amount of money.
He engaged a part of the same state-room,
and not succeeding in his efforts to inveigle
the man into a game of cards, determined
to murder him in the night and leave the
boat with his booty.

He succeeded in the commission of the
crime, but as he was searching for the sup-
posed money, the door opening upon the
guard was unlocked, and the captain of the
boat entered.

Both were astonished, but the murderer
was paralized, until the captain, the older
adept in guilt, informed him that he had
only forestalled his intentions, and proposed
a division of the spoil.

For three years ho remained upon the
boat, engaged in gambling, and, when a fair
opportunity presented itself, murder.

When all or a great portion of this tribe
of villains were united by that arch-fiend
Murrell, they presented a phalanx of crime
that seemed almost impregnable to the law,
and could only have been checked, for en-
tirely uprooted they were not, by the ultra
means adopted in Mississippi.

It is our intention to lay before the reader
a full account of this man, and of the

476

Uses and Abuses of Lynch Law.

[May,

various ramifications of his clan, many of
which exist to the present day, of his real
designs, and his singular mode adopted to

gain adherents ; but we must here pause j
having scarce passed the threshold of our
subject. P. P.

1850.]

Meinoir of Richard Yeadon.

All

MEMOIE OF EICHARD YEADON, ESQ

TuLLY, in describing a good and happy ]
man, places him under a well regulated
government, in the ripeness of honor, and
the full enjoyment of reputation ; capable
of performing public trusts with safety, and
of retreating into the shades of private life
with dignity. To these requisites we
would add the reflections of having earned
character without envy, and of having de-
served success by the strict observance of
justice in all the relations of life ; reflec-
tions which, in an eminent degree, belong
to him whose biography we are about to
write.

Richard Yeadon, whose life presents a
noble example of independence in political
principle, industry in professional charac-
ter, integrity in business, of beautiful con-
sistency in the family and friendly rela-
tions, was born in the city of Charleston,
on the 22d of October, 1S02. His pater-
nal grandfather was Richard Yeadon, a na-
tive of England, and a watch-maker by
trade, who came to this country before the
bursting forth of that revolutionary flame,
which spread over the continent, and event-
ually consumed the institutions of monar-
chy. Richard, the grandfather, intermar-
ried with Mary Lining, a Carolinian of
Scottish descent. In the struggle which
ensued between the Whigs of this country
and Great Britain, he sided with the for-
mer, without considering for a moment any
question but the duty he owed to the lib-
erty of the country of his adoption. On
the occasion of the capitulation of Charles-
ton, he suffered imprisonment in a prison
ship and in the provost; and was, finally,
with his family, banished to Philadelphia.
On the conclusion of the war he returned
to Charleston, where he died in 1784,
over thirty years of age. He left a widow
and four children, with little for their sup-
port. His children were, two sons, Rich-
ard and WUliam, and two daucrhters.

Richard, the eldest son, the father of the
subject of this memoir, began to provide
for himself at the early age of twelve
years. He intermarried with the widow
Mary Adams, to whom, as Mary You, he
had been attached in early life. His con-
sistent devotion to this object of his early
affection, was rewarded in the possession of
a moderate fortune, and a wife of intelli-
gence and virtue. Young in life he be-
came an officer in the branch, or office of
discount and deposit of the old, or first,
United States' Bank, at Charleston, and
was one of the tellers of that institution
when put in liquidation to aid in the settle-
ment of its affairs. He was retained as an
officer after that event. In 1812 he was
elected by the Legislature a director of the
Bank of the State of South Carolina, and
in 1815 or 1816 was chosen deputy cash-
ier, the title of which officer was subse-
quently changed to that of assistant and
transfer clerk. This position he held at
the time of his death, which occurred on
the 9th of November, 1841, when he had
approached his sixty-ninth year. He left
a widow and three children : two daughters,
and a son whose life we are engaged in
considering. Mr. Richard Yeadon, the
father, had established long before his
death, an irreproachable character for in-
tegrity and honor. He was known as a
good citizen, a faithful officer, and an af-
fectionate parent. He was remarkably
kind to his children, giving them all excel-
lent educations, and providing for them
liberally. His house was the abode of
hospitality, and he was universally ac-
knowledged to be one of the most able and
upright bank officers ever known in Charles-
ton.

Mr. Yeadon's maternal grandfather was
Thomas You, a native of Carolina, of
French Huguenot descent. He was a sil-
versmith by trade, and the apprentice of

478

Memoir of Richard Yeadon.

[Maj.

the father of the late Judge Grimke, who
generously aided him in business. At
about the age of thirty-two he intermar-
ried with Elizabeth Cliiford, a lady of six-
teen years of age, and a co-heiress, with the
late Mrs. Mary Turpin, of Mr. John Clif-
ford, a gentleman of English descent, and a
considerable landowner in Charleston. Mr.
You took active part with his countrymen in
the revolution ; and, on the occasion of
the surrender of Charleston, was doomed,
first to the occupancy of the provost and
then of a prison ship. He was about to
suifer exile with his family, when a severe
attack of gout obliged him to receive Brit-
ish protection. He seized, however, an
early opportunity of breaking his parole,
at the risk of his neck, and took up arms
again with his countrymen. He died
in 1785, or early in 1786, leaving a
widow and five children, among whom was
IVIary the mother of Mr. Yeadon. The
maternal grandmother, Mrs. Elizabeth You,
though left a young, beautiful, and wealthy
widow, never again married, but devoted her-
self faithfully and unweariedly to the care and
nurture of her children, a much more noble
reason for resisting suitors than the unravel-
ling of the web, which di,-tinguished the an-
cient wife, so often engaging the praises of
poetry. Mrs. You was a lady of vigorous
mind, and eminent in virtue and piety. She
lived to the exti'eme age of 86 or 87.

The mother of Mr. Yeadon grew up a very
lovely girl. In early life she was attached
to Richard Yeadon, the father, but des-
tiny separated them, and she married
Mr. John Adams, a planter of Edisto
Island. Shortly after marriage Mr. Adams
was drowned, in a stormy winter's night,
by the upsetting of a row boat, in which he
was returning to his plantation from the
city. Mrs. Adams was thus left quite a
youthful widow, with an infant son, who
not long afterwards followed his father to
the grave. On the conclusion of a deco-
rous widowhood, this lady again met
Mr. Yeadon, and, their long smothered
affection reviving, she became his wife. The
fate of her first husband induced her to
persuade her second to dispose of the
Edisto lands and slaves, which was done
at the moment when the culture of cotton
began to supersede that of indigo. Mrs.
Mary Yeadon, like her mother, was pious
and amiable. With a fidelity and self-de-

nial not often equalled, she dedicated her
time to the advancement of the interests
and happiness of her husband and children.
But, though confining herself to this sphere,
the graces of her character still expanded,
and a large social circle daily attested her
meekness, her affectionate and forgivino-
disposition, her usefulness and benevo-
lence. She died on the 22d of IVovem-
ber, 1842.

We have been the more particular in
these ancestral notices for the reason that
it is delightful, in contemplating the life of
a friend, to look back and trace through
the lives of those from whom he has sprung,
the outlines of the features of character
which distinguish him, and render the
record of his life lovely. To observe, that
his integrity, his charity, his virtues, are
not the result of accidental training, or
the consequence of a mere yielding of the
heart to custom rather than principle, but
part of the original property of the race —
hereditary virtues springing directly from
the soul, and descending in right lines, and
in undiminished purity, to the latest branch.
The parents of Richard Yeadon removing to
a residence on Harleston's Green, he entered
a school conducted by Mrs. Baker and Mrs.
Rogers. Between the ages of six and seven
he was transferred to the tuition of Mr. Mc-
Dow, with whom he began Latin, and with
whom he continued till the age of thirteen.
For about a year afterwards he studied un-
der Mr. Thomas McCay, whose health
failing, he was put under that excellent in-
structor, the late Mr. Martin L. Hurlbut,
who prepared him for college. In October,
1818, and before quite sixteen, he entered
the South Carolina College, joining, or
rather studying, with the Sophomore class
until the examination in December, when
he was admitted a member of the Junior
class of 1819. The faculty then consisted
of the Rev. Dr. Maxey, D. D., President,
and Professor of Rhetoric and Belles Let-
tres ; Thomas Park, M. D., Professor of
Languages; Edward Smith, M. D., Pro-
fessor of Chemistry ; Rev. Christian Han-
chell, Professor of Mathematics ; Rev.
Robert Plenry, D. D., Professor of Moral
and Political Philosophy. Dr. Smith hav-
ing died, in the vacation of Mr. Yeadon 's
Junior year, in Missouri, the celebrated
Thomas Cooper, M. D., succeeded him.
Mr. Yeadon's class was the first in the col-

1850.]

Memoir of Richard Yeadon.

479

lege instructed by this eminent man. Dr.
Maxey died just before the vacation of
Mr. Yeadon's Senior year, having been
long in such ill health as to be enabled to
give but little attention to the class. At
the spring exhibition of the Junior class,
Mr. Yeadon was assigned a prominent part,
and delivered an oration on " Sympathy."
At the senior exhibition in ]\Iarch he was
again distinguished, and spoke on " The
Influence of Morals on Government."
When graduated, in December, 1820, he
received the second honor, and delivered
the salutatory addresses in Latin, and an
English oration on the " Influence of Gov-
ernment in forming the Character." The
first honor of his class was awarded to
James Terry, Esq., once commissioner in
equity for Edgfield, who was some six or
eight years Mr. Yeadon's senior. The
third honors were awarded to Dixon H.
Lewis, late United States' Senator from
Alabama ; the Rev. Paul Trapier Keith,
Rector of St. Michael's, Charleston ; Pat-
rick C. Caldwell, formerly member of Con-
gress from the Newberry District ; Solomon
Cohen, Esq., a distinguished lawyer, for-
merly of Georgetown, now of Savannah,
and Robert Brevard, Esq., a citizen of
North Carolina.

Leaving college, Mr. Yeadon, in Janu-
ary, 1821, began the study of the law with
Messrs. Bennett and Hunt, where he en-
joyed the advantage of a large law li-
brary, and a familiarity with the details of
a considerable practice. In December,
1823, or January, 1824, he was admitted
to the bar of the law courts, and in a year
or two afterwards, to that of the chancery.
While engaged in the study of his profes-
sion, Mr. Yeadon went through a long
course of reading, both philosophical and
legal ; and, entirely under his own direc-
tion, impressed on his mind that large
stock of the principles of knowledge, from
which, in after life, he continues to draw
with such facility and effect. To train his
speaking powers, he, about that time,
joined a moot court, or debating society,
known as the Forensic Club, which em-
braced among its members many of the
most distinguished men of the State —
Henry Bailey, C. G. Memminger, Stephen,
now Bishop Elliott, Alexander Mazyck,
William P. Finley, Edward McCready,
and others. In this club Mr. Yeadon ac-

quired the power of extemporary speaking,
a faculty which he certainly possesses na-
turally, but of which, doubtless, the difii-
dence of youth, and his high appreciation
of its importance, retarded the more early
development of. The extraordinary dis-
position of Mr. Yeadon for labor was here
prominently displayed in the zeal with
which he engaged in the various discus-
sions before the society : with persevering
industry composing and memorising whole
speeches, sentence by sentence, without
committing any part to paper ; and inter-
weaving, occasionally, extemporaneous re-
plies with prepared matter, untU the habit
of speaking with great fluency and correct-
ness was acquired. A practice, which
cannot be too highly commended, or too
earnestly inculcated, as, whatever the abi-
lity of the orator, it tends to give strength
to his ideas, and moulds language to the
justest proportions of harmonious and ele-
gant diction.

In March, 1826, Mr. Yeadon formed
a co-partuei'ship in the practice of law and
equity, with Charles Macbeth, Esq., a
gentleman, whose mild and engaging dispo-
sition, whose firmness of character, and
whose able and faithful attention to busi-
ness, have insured him the respect and
admiration of friends, and the justly mer-
ited rewards of professional success and
political distinction. The connexion of
friend and business associate, between this
gentleman and Mr. Yeadon, continues
through all the vicissitudes of opposing po-
litical sentiments.

In 1826, while suffering from an attack of
rheumatism, which, from his 19th year, had
crippled him, he visited the hot sprmgs of
Virginia. He there met with Henry Clay ;
but was then as was most South Carolinians,
an ardent lover of Andrew Jackson, and felt
no great deference for the great commoner
of Kentucky. He lived long enough,
however, to estimate his great services to
the country ; and became one of the most
able and eloquent of his defenders.

In 1827 Mr. Yeadon's practice being
small, he was appointed by the Legislature
one of the special magistrates of Charles-
ton, under a new and excellent system
suggested by, ajjd established through, the
aid of his own pen. Afterwards, when the
same system was stUl further improved, he
was selected, with Henry Trescot, Esq.,

480

Memoir of Richard Yeadon.

[May,

as judicial magistrate. In this position,
Mr. Yeadon underwent a still more advan-
tageous legal training, and prepared himself
for those duties in his profession, which
now began to flow from his increasing
business.

In December, 1829, Mr. Yeadon mar-
ried Miss Mary Videau Marion, of St.
John's, Berkley, a daughter of the late
Francis Marion, Esq., the grand-nephew
and adopted son of General Friineis Marion,
that most prominent of all pavtizan he-
roes in the glorious picture of revolution-
ary struggles in South Carolina. This
lady, with her hand, brought a heart
full of purity and gentleness to her hus-
band. A disposition of mildness and cour-
tesy, and an intelligent mind, enable her
to administer the affairs of her household
with an ease and judgment, which render
it the habitation of peace and comfort.
No living issue is the fruit of this mar-
riage.

In the early part of the summer of
1830, an eventful period of Mr. Yeadon 's
life commenced, in his connexion with the
great union and nullification controver-
sy, which then began to rage in South
Carolina. At this period, actuated alone
by principle, and not pausing to con-
sider the probabilities of success, he
connected himself with the Union party ;
and was among the prominent speakers at
the great meeting at the Union Bower,
held on the 4th July, 1831, when party
lines were distinctly drawn. He wielded
his pen with singular ability and effect in
this cause, for the columns of the City
Gazette, in 1S30 and 1831, in opposition
to Nullification ; and there can be no ques-
tion that, during the whole j^eriod in which
this matter was the subject of debate, no
single mind aided more in eliciting truth,
than that of Mr. Yeadon. Indeed, no
man brought to the side of the question,
chosen by him, more lucid reasoning, and
more dignified and efficient sources. On
leaving college he had read the celebrated
pamphlet, written by Mr. McDuffie, sign-
ed, " One of the People," and was strong-
ly imbued with its latitudinarian princi-
ples. The debates in the Legislature, un-
der the lead of Judge Smiiji, and Hugh S.
Legare, had, however, reduced the stand-
ard of Mr. Yeadon's opinions, and he was
brought to that position which he has since

so consistently and ably sustained. Mr.
Yeadon's belief on this vexed question of
politics may be thus defined. He holds
the opinion of a divided sovereignty be-
tween the States and the Union, — of a
Union, sovereign, as respects its delegated
powers; of States, sovereign, as regards
their reserved rights, — neither possessing
the right to trespass on the sovereignty, or
the rights of the other ; the Supreme
Court of the Union being the constitu-
tional and final arbiter on all disputed
questions susceptible of submission to ju-
dicial arbitrement, and the ordinary action
of our complex Government, with all its
checks, balances, and safe-guards, state,
federal, and popular, being the practical
arbiter in all other cases.

Some other changes, we believe, have
been admitted to have taken place in Mr.
Yeadon's views, since his conversion to
modern State-right doctrines. These are,
from believing in secession as a constitu-
tional and peaceahle right, to liolding it
to he revolutionary and treasonahle^ if
attempted^ hy arins^ against the consent
of the Goveriwient of the Union. Fro7n
helieving in the inexpediency, to a sanc-
tion of the absolute expediency ., of the
Protective system. He always held, and
still holds, the Tariff to be constitutional ;
but once believed the adoption of the
policy impolitic, and injurious to the
South. He now considers it to have been
constitutional and expedient, both for
South and North ; but thinks that the
cotton manufacture, at all events, and,
perhaps, some others, have reached too
high perfection, to require further support
from this agency. He is, therefore, op-
posed, at present, to increasing the duties
for that purpose. The following extracts
set this matter in its true light :

Extract from the address of Mr. Yeadox,
to the patrons of the Courier on taking leave
of his Editorial duties. , -

"The undersigned, in dissolving his edito-
rial relations with the Courier, its patrons and
the public, trusts that he will not be deemed
intrusive, but meet with a kindly indulgence,
in a full, but succinct development of his po-
litical creed, and his views on the great poli-
tical issues of the day.

"He believes that our Government is a
happy combination of the federal and national

1850.]

Memoir of Richard Yeadon.

481

forms, investing: the o;eneral government Avith
complete sovereignty within its constitutional
sphere, and leaving to the several States com-
plete sovereignty within their reserved powers,
the whole body being fitly joined together and
compacted by that which every joint supplieth,
according to the effectual working in the
measure of every part, making increase of the
body, unto the edifying of itself in love. In
cases of conllict between the respective juris-
dictions, the Supreme Court of the United
States is the constitutional and final arbiter
as to all questions susceptible of a judicial de-
termination ; and as to all others, the general
government, in its ordinary and regular ac-
tion, with all its complicated cliecks on usurpa-
tion or abuse of power, is practically, and of
necessity, the tribunal of dernier resort. This
results inevitably from the provisions of the fed-
eral Constitution, extending the judicial power
of the United States to all cases in law and
equity, arising under this Constitution, the
laws of the United States, and treaties made,
or which shall be made under their authority ;
to controversies to which the United States
shall be a party, and to controversies between
two or more States ; and declaring that, this
Constitution, and the laws of the United States
which shall be made in pursuance thereof,, and
all treaties made, or which shall be made un-
der the authority of the United States, shall
be //ie Supreme law of tlie land, and the judges
in every State shall be bound thereby, anij-
thing in the constitution or laics of any State
to the contrary notwithstanding.''' In other
words, the very object and purpose of our pre-
sent admirable Constitution, the work oi wis-
dom by an assembly of patriots and sages, un-
exampled in the history of the world, were to
form a nation, to the extent of the powers
conferred on the central government.

" In this admirable scheme of polity, emu-
lating the solar system, as well in the harmony
of its action, as in the complexity of its struc-
ture, and like it, so nicely adjusting the cen-
tripetal and centrifugal forces as to secure the
steadiness and lustre of the orb of light and
life that stands poised in the centre ; and the
fidelity of the revolving planets, of whatever
magnitude, to their assigned and respective
orbits, without clashing or interference. There
is found, too, every desirable check and se-
curity against usurpation or abuse of power
by the central authority.

"If the foregoing views and opinions are
■well founded, and that they are so, is believed
with unswerving faith and confidence, it fol-
lows that the doctrines of nullification and se-
cession, so widely entertained and with such
mischievous effects, in the State, are wild and
untenable heresies.

" As to the tariff or protective system, the

undersigned believes it to be both constitution-
al and expedient.

" He believes a national bank constitution-
al as a necessary and proper financial agent
of the government, and in order to establish a
sound national currency, the regulation of
which he believes to be the province and duty
of the General Government."

Amidst the inten.se excitement that pre-
vailed iu South Carolina, on the subject of
the tariff, in 1831, various modes of re-
dress were suggested. Among them was
that of a Southern Convention, which en-
listed the pen of Mr. Yeadon ; andwhich he
pressed, as the measui'e of the Union party,
in certain essays in the City Gazette. The
unanimity with which this mode of action
has been adopted in the South, iu reference
to a late proposed unconstitutional action
of the national authorities iu regard to
Southern relations, speaks well for the far
seeing and prudential views of Mr. Yeadon,
of whom, it may also be said, that he was
among the first to recommend that measure
in the present exigency.

The ardent Uuiouism of Mr. Yeadon
was not without its proscriptive reward, for
in December 1831 , he was refused a re-ap-
pointment to the Magistracy of his native
city ; a station of which he had discharged
the duties most ably, not less to his own,
than the advantage of the country.

While thus breasting fearlessly the strong
current of popidar sentiment in South Caro-
lina, an observing eye was on him. A. S.
Willington , Esq. , the Editor and Proprietor
of the Courier, a gentleman whose clear and
practical intellect had long illustrated the
cause of commerce and of politics in the
South, at once saw and appreciated the tal-
ents of Mr. Yeadon. The result was a propo-
sition about the 1 st July 1 832, that the latter
should become an editorial writer for that
paper ; an offer which was at once accept-
ed. Mr. Yeadon immediately carried into
its service, the same energy and industry
which has characterised him iu every position
which he has occupied ; and he became
and continued to be the leading Union
Editor, in the State, until the close of the
nullification controversy. We extract from
various papers of the date of Mr. Yeadon 's
resignation of editorial life, the subjoined
testimonials of his standing in the opinion
of contemporaries :

482

Memoir of Richard Yeadon.

[May,

" Richard Yeadon, Esq., has retired from the
Editorial charges of this paper, Charleston
Courier, which lie has maintained with signal
ability and honor for upwards of twelve years."
" He reflected honor upon the Editorial profes-
sion, and the best wishes of all his contempor-
aries of the press follow him in his retire-
ment."— Richmond Times and Compiler.

" Richard Yeadon, Esq., after an able and
honorable career of upwards of twelve years,
has retired from the Editorial chair of the
Charleston Courier." — Baltimore Patriot.

'• Richard Yeadon, Esq., has retired from the
Editorial management of the Charleston Cour-
ier, a post which he has occupied with distin-
guished ability for the last twelve years. Al-
though we differed from him in politics, a sense
of justice compels us to admit that, he was an
able, bold, and efficient writer • and that the
editorial corps has lost in his retirement, one
of its most talented and accomplished mem-
bers.— Farmer^s Gazette, Cheraiv, S. C.

" Charleston Courier. — Richard Yeadon, Esq.
for more than twelve years past, the principal
editor of this excellent journal, we regret to
say, on Monday last, surrendered his connex-
ion with the editorial department of this paper,
and betook himself to his increasing profes-
sional and private engagements. His retire-
ment from a station he has filled with so much
credit to himself and the concern, and so much
honor to the country and the profession, will
be a source of regret to all who had the plea-
sure of an intercourse with him. To us :t is
matter of unfeigned sorrow to part company
with one, who has been an efficient and valued
co-laborer in the cause of our glorious Union,
and in the propagation of sound Wliig doc-
trines. Politics aside, however, we venture to
assert, that all his contemporaries, from one
end of the Union to the other, and we may
say all over the world, where his journal has
been received, will give him credit for his pro-
bity and candor, and for his marked and pe-
culiar amenity of manners. In his withdrawal
from the corps editorial, a light has gone
from the galaxy, whose effulgence in times
past has carried joy and gladness where the
gloom of ignorance and error held its dark and
slavish dominion. We part with him in sor-
row, because in his retirement, the cause of
sound and wholesome information and im-
provement loses a faithful advocate and friend.
The laurels he has won are doubly his own,
from the perilous and difficult position where
he fought for them ; and since duty now calls
him from the field of strife, we trust he may
find them as sweet to repose upon, as they
were honorable and brilliant in their achieve-
ment."— Mobile Daily Advertiser.

Other testimonials, called out by this
event, would swell our memoir beyond the
pages allotted to it. Sufficient it is to say,
that a very general outburst of editorial
commendations announced it ; and attest-
ed the value of the services of Mr. Yeadon
to the Union, and the Press.

In the summer of 1832, Mr. Yeadon
was appointed a member of the central
committee of the Union party, and elected
its Secretary ; a situation, from the nature
of the issire made up between the parties,
and the bitterness of the contest, of great
confidence and responsibility. In that ca-
pacity, and as editor of the Courier, he
stood in the front rank in this long to be
remembered and terrible State conflict ;
receiving on the strong shield which he
bore the severest assaults of the State-
right's nullification party, and striking
vigorously for the cause of the Union, and
the Constitution ; and, it may be said,
without the partialities of friendship, or
the inclination of the partizan, that, during
the whole course of that new and vindic-
tive quarrel, no pen, no mind, no heart
ever did more to sustain the Union, and to
elucidate its blessings, than were brought
to the cause by the subject of this me-
moir.

On the first of January, 1S33, Mr. Yea-
don became, with Mr. Willington and
Colonel King, a co-proprietor of the
Courier ; and acted as its political and
literary editor until the fall of 1844, when
he retired; and has never resumed his
position, though occasionally contributing
to its columns. He persevered in his op-
position to nullification, and the Test Oath,
till the reconciliation of the parties in
1 834, and wherever the Courier went, even
Avhere doctrines, counter to those advocated
by it, were held, its dignified, its frank
and reliable character, was unhesitatingly
acknowledged. By those who maintained
kindred sentiments it was hailed as the
faithful advocate of the Union, the just
expounder of the Constitution, the truth-
ful, firm guardian of American liberty.

In 1836, JVIr. Yeadon was elected to
the Legislature. In that body, instead of
devoting himself to the explaining of ab-
stract politics, he set about the reforming
of the laws, in many particulars defective ;
and in serving the best interests of hu-

1850.]

Memoir of Richard Yeadon.

483

manity. He was the author of an impor-
tant reform in the law of insolvents — of
those provisions, giving creditors the right
to cross-examine as to the truth of sche-
dules, and to call for the production of
books kept by the debtor ; of an act, en-
larging the jurisdiction of the City Court,
and giving efficiency to executions, issued
from it, throughout the district. He also
suggested the project of enlarging the
prison bounds, so as to embrace the entire
district, and of limited co-partnerships ; —
measures which, though they then failed,
were subsequently carried out. In Octo-
ber, 1S3S, Mr. Yeadon was defeated in
the canvass for the Legislature, in conse-
cpence of his opposition to the sub-trea-
sury, or hard money scheme ; an opposi-
tion, which he waged by the side of the
lamented Legare.

In 1835 Mr Yeadon, in a series of
essays in the Courier, and, subsequently,
in pamphlet form, gave the world a lucid,
temperate, and learned treatise on the sub-
ject of the rights of the South, with respect
to slavery. It was fitting that he who had,
under such discouragements and hostilities,
so nobly stood forth the friend of the Union,
in one controversy aifecting its integrity,
should again raise an arm for its defence
in another, not less — perhaps far more —
dangerous.

In September, 1838, while on a visit,
with General Hayne and others, to Lex-
ington, Kentucky, engaged in furthering
the project of uniting Cincinnati with
Charleston, by rail-road, Mr. Yeadon
was elected an alderman of the city, in
which position he served one year, and
then declined the poll. During the period
of his service in that body, he was instru-
mental in procuring the enactment of an
important measure connected with the
cau5^ of education. This was the creation
of the high school of Charleston ; and the
appropriation of a certain sum, annually,
both to that institution, and to the college
of Charleston. The plan of the high
school, drawn up by Mr. Yeadon, is the
most unique and effective of any we ever
met with ; and deserves to become the
model for all similar establishments. The
labors of Mr. Yeadon, in these respects,
have conferred very valuable benefits on
the youth of Charleston ; not the least of
which is, that the valuable services of Dr.

Bachman have been procured as Professor
of Natural History, for the college of
Charleston. Nor is it alone to these in-
stitutions that Mr. Yeadon has given his
efficient services. As Commissioner of
Free Schools, a station which he yet fills,
he has labored assiduously for the poorer
classes — originating, and pressing to con-
summation, a local, or parish tax, for the
erection of houses for free schools, and
for apparatus ; a measure, sanctioned by
the Legislature, and which will soon deve-
lope advantages commensurate with the
dignified objects of the sacred trust.

Up to the summer of 1840 Mr. Yeadon
was identified with the Jackson and Van
Buren party, though not sanctioning the
sub-treasury scheme. At that period he
separated from the party on that point,
and on account of the charges of abolition-
ism against the virtuous Harrison. Dur-
ing the canvass of 1840 he remained neu-
tral ; but joined the Whigs on the elec-
tion of Harrison. He denounced John
Tyler's apostacy and treachery, in common
with the Whigs of the day, and entered
warmly into the contest of 1844, in favor
of Henry Clay. To this struggle Mr.
Yeadon brought all his enthusiasm, dili-
gence, and ability. From the mouldering
records of past history he revived and dis-
entombed every fact which could tend to
the illustration of the policy of his party,
or be brought to act as testimony against
his opponents. South Carolina, Georgia,
Virginia, and the District of Columbia,
were fields in which he personally shook
the ranks of Democracy with his searching,
bold, and eloquent appeals ; and argu-
ments, which he had prepared with great
industry, and which, with extraordinary
force, placed fairly before the popular
mind the constitutionality and expediency
of the Tariff, — became text books in every
discussion in the south-west. In the
canvass of 1848 he advocated the elec-
tion of General Taylor ; but the Whig
party, having no distinct organization
at that period in his State, he threw him-
self upon the side of the Taylor Dem-
ocrats, who triumphantly carried the
city. When it began to be evident that
an attempt would be made to graft the
senthnent of abolitionism on the institu-
tions of the nation, he vigorously took the
side of Southern rights. On this topic he

484

Memoir of Richard Yeadon.

[May,

knows no Whig, no Democrat. While
no man would do more to uphold the ;
Union, or take more pride in its perpet-
uity, he is prepared to repel the slightest
interference with the South, on the slavery
question.

Mr. Yeadon's practice at the bar has
yielded him remunerating emoluments ;
and he is, therefore, possessed of a very
handsome fortune. Not only have his in-
dustry, and attention to business, been
blessed, but his liberality also ; for, whUe
prudence has regulated his private affau-s
every public and private charity has found
bim a liberal benefactor.

Mr. Yeadon's capacity for usefulness
lias devolved on him the performance of
many duties in civil and military life. He
has filled, with approbation, many impor-
tant public stations, and he is identified
with nearly all of the charitable and school
associations of the city. The Kortliern
States, North Carolina, South Carolina and
Georgia, are indebted to his pen for some of
the finest descriptions of scenery, and the
most graphic biographical sketches ever pub-
lished in this country ; an art of composition
in which Mr. Yeadon is remarkably happy,
and which causes his presence to be hailed
with delight wherever he travels.

Mr. Yeadon's style of sj^eaking is
clear and brilliant. He has at ready
command a large amount of, not only
shining, but pure coin ; and he expends
it with ease and gracefulness. The
visit of Mr. Webster to Charleston, in
1S47, gave Mr. Yeadon a fine opportuni-
ty of displaying, not only the warmth of
his heart, but of his eloquence too. As
fair specimens of his extemporary style,
we subjoin extracts from his speeches at
the New England Society and Bar dinners
to Mr. Webster.

At the first, being called on, Mr. Yea-
don said — " He presumed that the call
made on him indicated that the company
desired from him a sentiment merely, not
a speech. That, after the brilliant and
almost unparalleled display of oratory, elo-
quence, and exquisite wit, which had graced
the occasion, itwouldbevain presumption in
him to interrupt the further festivity of the
evening with a set discourse. He could
not forbear, however, giving expression to
his gratitude for the courtesy which had
made hun a participator in the rich and

rare enjoyment, that had so signally marked
this social and festive scene — that had
made him a guest of the family party,
given to the favorite son of New England
by the descendants of her pilgrim fathers,
who had made the sunny South their
home. It aiForded him heartfelt pleasure
to unite in doing honor to their distinguish-
ed guest. He honored him as the light
and glory of oiu* literature, the star, the
sun of our intellectual sky — as bearing,
in oratory and eloquence, the same rela-
tion to our country, that Demosthenes
and Cicero bore to Greece and Rome ;
emblazoning her with an equal lustre — as
having won, by a long life of illustrious
public service, in the Senate, the cabinet,
and the field of diplomacy, not only the
title of New England's favorite son, but,
also, that of the patriot statesman of
America — and as standing forth, by uni-
versal acknowledgment, one of the great-
est citizens of our great Republic ; belong-
ing not only to his native New Hampshire,
and his adopted Massachusetts, but iden-
tified with the history, and contributing
to the fame of his entire country ; and,
therefore, rightfully claimed as the com-
mon property of the nation. There was
one particular, too, in which, as a Caroli-
nian, and a Southron, he felt more than
commonly proud to do grateful honor to
Daniel Webster. In his own JNIassachu-
setts, and in the Congress of the Union,
he had boldly and patriotically rebuked
the mad spirit of fanaticism, that, under
the banner of a false philanthropy, would
preach a crusade against Southern rights
and institutions, and stab to the heart the
peace, the prosperity, nay, the very ex-
istence of the South. It was gratifying,
also, to recal the fact that, in the year
1840, in the capital of the Old Dominion,
u.nder the ' October sun' of a Virginia sky,
he, Mr. Webster, had given utterance,
' before his entire country,' to the just,
patriotic, and constitutional sentiment,
and committed it ' to the wings of all the
winds,' to be borne to every human ear,
whether of friend or foe, of North or
South, on all the responsibility that belonged
to him — '■ That there is no power, di-
rect OR INDIRECT, IN CoNGRESS, OR THE

General Government, to interfere,

IN THE slightest DEGREE, WITH THE IN-
STITUTIONS OF THE South.' He pro-

1850.]

Memoir of Richard Yeadon.

485

claimed that we, of the North and South,
were citizens of United States — united
only for the purposes of common defence,
common interest, and common welfare,
but separata and independent in every
thing connected with their domestic re-
lations, and private concerns. Honor to
the man who upholds the Co?tstifutwn
as the bond of our Union, and as the
aegis of protection and bulwark of defence,
to the separate interests and institutions,
each and all, of our United States. He
could not conclude, said Mr. Yeadon,
without expressing his delight also, at
beholding his own native State thus es-
tending welcome and courtesy to Massa-
chusetts, the mother of industry, enter-
prize and refinement, in the person of her
illustrious Senator. It was fitting that old
Massachusetts, she that had rocked the
cradle of the revolution at Lexington and
Bunker's Hill, should be thus met with old
affection, and' time honored' hospitality, by
South Carolina — which had not sung the
lullaby of our young independence ; but
tuned its ear to other, and different music,
the thunder of Fort Sullivan. He gave,
as a sentiment, —

"■ The reception of ]Mr. Webster in Charles-
ton. The old Palmetto Fort exchanging a
friendly salute with Bunker's Hill.-'

At the Bar dinner to Mr. Webster,
Mr. Yeadon spoke as follows :

" He asked leave to pay a common and
richly merited tribute to the three greatest men
of the Union. The relations borne by their
illustrious guest to his city, his Slate, his sec-
tion, and the nation at large, naturally sug-
gested to the minds and hearts of all present,
two other distinguished citizens of our repub-
lic, his co-equals in greatness and fame, w^iose
relations to city, State, section, and nation,
were identical with his own. Boston, the
Athens of America, Massachusetts, the cradle
of the revolution, New England, the liome of
the Pilgrim Fathers, delighted to do honor to
Daniel Webster, the 'bright star of the
East.' Lexington, the soul of hospitality and
intelligence, Kentucky, the eldest of the West-
ern sisterhood, the far and mighty West, in all
its vast extent of territory presented the lau-
rel to Henry Clay, the great statesman of the
West, who now, alas, in sorrow and desola-
tion, amidst the shades of his own beautiful
Ashland, mourns, with crushed and anguished
heart, a gallant son, laid as a sacrifice on the

altar of his country. Charleston, the Queen
City of the South, South Carolina, the soil of
the evergreen palmetto, the South, the sunny
South, the home of chivalry and generous
sentiment, do homage to John'C. Calhoun, the
pure and lofty patriot, the fearless champion
of the South. Each of these illustrious men,
in his own section, stands unrivalled in great-
ness and in the popular heart ; and yet each
was regarded as the common property of the
nation, which had reaped such a long* harvest
of advantage and fame from their illustrious
services in the Senate, in the cabinet and in
the diplomatic iield. At home, each towered in
greatness and elevation, beyond compeer ; but
when viewed as the national plain, they rose
in the similitude of three lofty and colossal
columns, contrasted in their order of architec-
ture, but equal in magnitude and height. He
asked for permission then, as not inappropriate
to the grateful occasion, to twine a common
garland for the three great men of the re-
public. He gave Clay, Webster, and Cal-
houn, the three pyramids of Ameiica. Col-
ossal in intellectual proportions, and towering
in moral grandeur, they as much exceed those
of Egypt in greatness and glory, as the intel-
lectual and the moral are above the physical,
they and their memory will be reverenced,
while liberty is worshipped and public worth
is cherished in this land of the free. The
time may come when posterity will say :
From yonder pyramids more than twenty
centuries look down upon our actions.'"

In person, Mr. Yeadon is of respectable
medium height, and somewhat stout. His
head is what a phrenologist would ad-
mire, as happily proportioned, enough
of the physical to give stability to the moral
and intellectual, and his face is characterised
by benevolent and intellectual expression.
In disposition he is bland and courteous ;
and, though in moments of close attention
to business, one may pronounce him oc-
casionally and uneoncUiatory in manner,
this arises more from anxiety to make
progress with his engagements, than from
a want of appreciation of the particular
complaisances of life. Under an exterior
sometimes forbidding, is beating a generous
and sympathising heart, one ever open to
the impressions of philanthropy; ever over-
flowing with kindness and urbanity.

In business the most minute particu-
lars engage his observation or memory ;
and while, with some men, it requh-es
hours of preparation, to make the transit
from one department of business to ano-
ther, ho engages in the greatest variety

486

Memoir of Richard Yeadon.

[May,

of transactions with ease and facility.
His literary labors are voluminous, and
will form a noble treasui-e in the letters of
his native State. It is to be hoped, that
the correctness and fluency of his pen will

be directed to the elucidation of the history
of South Carolina ; a work for which he is
eminently quahfied, not less by qualities of
industry in the collection of materials, than
from the elep-ant character of his diction.

\ '

•r , r

1850.]

Life and Writings of Francois Rabelais,

487

AN ESSAY ON THE

LIFE AND WRITINGS OF FRANCOIS RABELAIS,

THE GOOD CURATE OF MENDON.

BY EUGENE LIES.

Rabelais est-il mort ?

Non sa meilleure part ha repriz ses espritz.

Jean Turquet.

We profess to be so far a disciple of
the great philosopher to whose fame these
pages are devoted, as to entertain the ut-
most abhorrence of bigotry, cant, and ex-
clusiveness, in all their forms, whether
based on national or sectarian prejudice.
The ephemeral literature of Great 13ritain
is particularly obnoxious on that score ; it
is redolent with the offensive taint of self-
laudation. For this, we feel in some de-
gree prepared ; but we have no patience
with a class of American writers who,
without the obvious excuse of their trans-
atlantic cotcmporaries, endorse the con-
ceited bkmders of the British press. We
will cite as a specimen the following criti-
cal dictum from a late number of a popu-
lar magazine of New York : — " An Anglo-
Saxon can appreciate, although he may
not altogether admire, Gallic wit ; but a
Gaul is hopelessly incompetent to under-
stand Saxon humor." We notice this re-
mark, not for its originality, but merely
because it is the echo of many others of
the same character, and to the same effect
— common places of British self-gratula-
tion, empty sounds, voces et preterea nihil^
which the authors of Great Britain have
uttered in the candor of ignorance, and
which our own writers repeat, because they
pass current in Great Britain. We
should like to know on what grounds rests
the common assumption that humor is the
exclusive property of the Anglo-Saxon
race, or that there exists such a thins: as a

special Anglo-Saxon variety of humor.
VVhat is humor .? We will not attempt a
definition which Addison has declared to
be so diificidt. But we imagine that a
tolerably clear, though concise, idea of the
humorous style is conveyed, if not by the
epithet ofjoco serius, which Strabo applies
to the sathes of Menippus, at least by
merely inverting that compound expres-
sion. Suppose that, catching the prevail-
ing mania of Neologism, we took the lib-
erty to qualify a work as serio jocose —
it may be that the word would appear ob-
scure— but if it meant anything at all, it
certainly wotdd mean humorous. Had the
critic, whose remark we have noticed,
stated that humor is a thing so exquisite,
so delicate, and so inseparably woven with
expression, that it loses a great deal of its
effect in a translation, he woidd have oc-
cupied a much more tenable position.

If there be anything sui generis in An-
glo-Saxon humor, we plead ignorance and
beg for light ; but if humor, in all lan-
guages, be merely what we conceive it, a
veil of mock gravity cast over pleasantry to
make her more attractive, then all the
writers, whether Greek, Latin, Spanish,
Italian, or English, who have practised
that artifice, are humorists. And above
all, the prince of humorists is one Francois
Rabelais, whom the critic had probablj
overlooked in making his sweeping asser-
tion.

Why did not Rabelais write bis own

488

Life mid

Writings

of Francois Rabelais.

[May,

life ? No theme could have suited his
genius better; no pen could have better
graced the theme. We do not hesitate to
say that such an autobiography would have
proved the most humorous of his works ; a
relation of the most Pantagruelic incidents
by the author of Pantagruel. Unfor-
tunately, his life yet remains to be written,
and a few dates, a few facts, mentioned as
it were inadvertently by cotemporary
writers, some incidental allusions in his
correspondence, and scant ofiicial entries
that record several of his public acts, are
all the authentic materials which criticism
has been able to discover. On the other
hand, however, tradition has bountifully
supplied the defect. So universal was
Rabelais' reputation for facctiousness, that
for years afterwards his countrymen attrib-
uted to him every merry saying or doing
that came to their knowledge. In this re-
spect, he shared the fate of all originals in
beino- made to father a long and spurious
progeny, which, living, he v/ould have dis-
claimed indignantly. It is somewhat diffi-
cult to discriminate, in the vast number of
anecdotes attributed to Rabelais, the gen-
uine from the false ; nor is it easy to re-
concile the conflicting accounts of several
most important particulars relating to him.
Yet the labors of modern criticism have
much facilitated the task, so that we are
enabled to furnish our readers with a tol-
erably consistent narrative of the leading
events of his life.

Francois Rabelais was born at Chinon,
in Touraino, about the year 1483. His
father was either an apothecary, or an inn-
keeper ; at all events, a man of some pro-
perty. Rabelais received the elements of
his education at the Abbey of Seuille,
where he passed his time, to borrow his
own quaint expression, " in drinking, eat-
ing, and sleeping, in eating, sleeping, and
drinking, and in sleeping, drinking, and
eatino-." We next find him at a monas-
tery, in the neighborhood of Angers, where
he remained until he was sufficiently ad-
vanced in age to commence his noviciate.
He then entered a convent of the Francis-
can order, where he was finally ordained a
priest sometime in or about the year 1511.
In the solitude of the cloister, Rabelais
lost no opportunity of gratifying that in-
nate thirst of knowledge which, to the last
hour of his life, formed a prominent trait

in his character, and redeemed — although
it failed altogether to refine — many a gross
instinct, many a sensual appetite. He be-
came thoroughly acquainted with ancient
literature, and even masteredthe Greek lan-
guage, which at that time was but Uttle
understood or studied.

The more he followed his elegant pur-
suits, the greater became his contempt for
the gross ignorance of his brethren at the
convent. This feeling, which he took no
pains to disguise, produced its obvious con-
sequences. With the exception of two
kindred sphits, whom a similarity of tastes
united in friendship with him, the monks
of Fontenay le Comte hated, while they
envied, the accomplished Rabelais. The
hatred of monks is not habitually inactive,
and, on this occasion, the mercurial tem-
perament of their victim furnished their
vengeance with ready pretexts. The vig-
ilant inquisition of revenge never slumber-
ed till poor Rabelais was confined under
sentence of perpetual imprisonment — in
pnce^ as they called it, with cruel irony —
in the subterraneous dungeons of the con-
vent. There are several versions as to the
particular oflfense for which so severe a
punishment was visited upon him. Some
state that he mixed with the wine of the
monks certain atonic drugs whose enerva-
ting influence greatly annoyed the volup-
tuous fathers, whilst others raise against
him the still more serious accusation of
havins; done precisely the reverse. A more
rational and probable account charges him
with having caused great scandal by his
conduct at a village holiday gathering,
where, in a drunken bout with some peas-
ants of the neighborhood, he indulged in
eccentric and obscene vagaries. But the
characteristic and most popular is the fol-
lowing anecdote : — Tradition says, that he
unceremoniously dislodged the statue of
the blessed Saint Francis from its pedestal
by the altar in the church, and, dressing
himself for the part, ascended the vacant
place and prepared to personate the Saint
during the service. This idea, which he
may have borrowed from the Stylites of
ancient times, and which the Ravels per-
haps borrowed from him, he contrived to
carry out for a while with becoming gravity.
But Rabelais had none of the spirit of
Saint Simeon about him ; he was not born
for a model artist. At the most impressive

1850.]

Life and Writings of Francois Rabelais.

489

moment of the sacrifice of tlie mass, weary
of his motionless attitude, he astonished the
good villagers by the sudden exhibition of
certain frantic gestures. It is said the
congregation did not at first realize what
they saw ; they thought the statue had
become animated. They were in a fair
way to believe in a genuine miracle, when
the incorrigible jester extemporized such a
substitute for the ceremony of sprinkling
with holy water, as was certainly unbe-
coming in the statue of the canonized
founder of a religious order ; and the won-
der degenerated into evident sacrilege.

Whatever was his oifense, influential
friends soon interposed in his behalf, and
procured, not only his release, but an order
of the Pope for his transfer from the begging
order of Saint Francis to the elegant leisure
of the Benedictine rule. But his impatient
spirit could not brook even the gentle re-
straint of his new discipline ; escaping from
the cloister, he assumed, without leave or
license, the habit of the secular priesthood.
He attached himself as secretary to the
person of the bishop of Maillezais, his old
friend and fellow-student and a liberal
minded man, at whose house he became
acquainted with some of the leading literary
characters of the day, who were supposed
to entertain opinions which leaned towards
the Reformation ; he associated or corres-
poned with the illustrious Budens, with
Jean Bouchet, one of the leading spirits of
the day ; with the poet Marot, soon after
tried and convicted on a criminal charge of
eating bacon in Lent ; with Louis Berquin
subsequently burnt alive for Lutheranism ;
with Hugues, Salel, and Calvin. The
latter was very partial to Rabelais and en-
couraged his inquisitive spirit until it led
him to conclusions beyond the Calvinistic
standard ; and then the Genevese reformer
became our author's irreconcilable enemy.
It would seem that during this period Ra-
belais freely indulged in the expression of
his hatred and contempt for the supersti-
tious ignorance of his late cloistered bre-
thren, if indeed he was not even conscious
of having seriously committed himself
against orthodoxy. For no sooner did the
day of persecution arrive, no sooner were
the flames of the Inquisition lighted to con-
sume the works and persons of heretics,
than Rabelais sought a refuge at the illus-
trious University of Montpsllier, where he

entered his name as a student in medicine.

He was now forty- two years of age ; his
person was tall and commanding ; his coun-
tenance was habitually frank, open and
good humoured in its expression, yet as-
sumed whenever he chose an air of dignity
which commanded respect ; his voice was
powerful and sonorous ; in short, he pos-
sessed all the gifts of the orator. On the
very day of his arrival at IMontpellier, he
obtained a most enviable distinction by a
brilliant improvisation which he volunteered.
In a wonderfully short time he became the
the soul and chosen spirit, the pride and
the boast of that ancient and famous insti-
tution. To this day, graduates in medicine
at that University when they take their de-
grees, don for the occasion the rohe de
Rahelais^ not the identical one however ;
for that precious garment has long since
shared the fate of other ancient valuables ; it
has been carried away in patches for relics.

An anecdote is related which commem-
orates the eccentricity and the prodigious
learning of Rabelais, as well as the high es-
timation in which he was held at Mont-
pellier. The Lord Chancellor of France
had infringed some of the privileges of the
University of that city, and Rabelais was
chosen as an ambassador to solicit redress.
Upon reaching Paris, he found that the
main difiiculty consisted in obtaining an
audience of that magistrate who was, it
seems, determined to listen to no communi-
cation on the subject. He adopted, there-
fore, an expedient strongly characteristic
of his odd and ingenious turn of mind. He
dressed himself in a costume calculated to
attract attention, along green gown, an Ar-
menian bonnet, oriental breeches ; and then,
with a pair of enormous spectacles fastened
to his cap, and an inkstand of prodigious
size in his hand, began pacing up and down
the quay, in front of the Chancellor's re-
sidence. His quaint attire and strange de-
meanor soon collected a crowd ; and the
Chancellor sent to inquire the cause. " I
am the calf-flayer," answered Rabelais.
This unsatisfactory answer only piqued the
curiosity of his Lordship who commissioned
one of his genthnnen in attendance to ques-
tion the calf-flayer. But Rabelais greeted
him with a Latin oration. Another mes-
senger appeared who understood that lan-
guage and was addres§ed in Greek. A
Greek scholar came down, but the calf-

490

hife and Writings of Francois Rabelais.

[May,

flayer could no longer speak anytbing but
Hebrew. In short, he exhausted the learn-
ino- and patience of the household by ad-
dressing each new interpreter in a language
unknown to him, and displayed such varied
knowledge that the Chancellor ordered him
to be called in ; Rabelais improved his op-
portunity and represented the claim of the
University in such skilful and pleasing terms,
that he gained his cause at once. In his
Pantagruel, Rabelais has set down this in-
cident at large, and applied it to the meet-
ing of Panurge with that friendly giant.
There can be no doubt, that he has thus
woven many of the incidents of his own life
with the adventures of Panurge. It is,
perhaps well for the good name of our
author, that we cannot at this late day dis-
tinguish his personal recollections from what
he has invented. Very many of the least
reputable tricks and pranks of his favorite
personage are narrated with so much com-
placency and with an air of reality so life-
like, that we are tempted to suspect that
they were perpetrated by their chronicler
himself.

It was about the year 1532, that Rabel-
ais made his first appearance in the literary
world. This was an inquiring age ; the
recent invention of printing had awakened
a thirst for learning which was seeking to
quench itself in the deepest wells of ancient
lore. It was the aim of the printers of
that day to employ the most learned schol-
ars as proof-readers and commentators. In
this double capacity, Rabelais entered a
printing house at Lyons, from which several
editions of classical works issued under his
superintendence, among others, his own
translation of the Aphorisms of Flippocrates.
It is said, however, that the publisher was
well-nigh ruined by the ill success of those
enterprises, and that upon his complaining
to Rabelais, the latter swore by.Iupiter and
by the Styx that he should be indemnified
for his losses. A few days afterwards he
brought to him the first version of the ro-
mance of Gargantua, of which more copies
were sold, as the author informs us, than
there had been Bibles purchased for the last
nine years. The object of this production
was to ridicule the prevailing taste for ro-
mances of chivaby, a conception which, as
Cervantes afterwards proved, alone con-
tained the germ of an immortal work. Such
was the immense popularity of this first im-

perfect attempt that its author republished
it several times in an altered form, and at
last was induced to follow up his theme in
the first book of Pantagruel. This book,
like its predecessor, is but a tissue of ex-
travagant adventures in the most hyperbol-
ic strain. Some passages are in the author's
best manner ; but they only make the re-
mainder more obnoxious by contrast. Ra-
belais appears to have written these random
sketches only to aim a blow against the li-
terary taste of the day. In those parts
where he rises superior to his theme, it
would seem that he either followed uncon-
sciously the promptings of his fine genius,
or that he wished to test how far the pecu-
liar style which he had created could serve
as a vehicle for lofty thought and deep
philosophy. We are obliged to give this
surmise upon our own responsibility, be-
cause,— owing probably to its extreme sim-
plicity— it seems never to have occurred to
commentators. On the contrary, with the
most wrong-headed perseverance, they have
exhausted their ingenuity in discovering a
regular plot and a sustained allegory run-
nius; throuo-h the fiibles of Rabelais : some
have insisted that they contain the history
of France during three successive reigns ;
others have traced the romantic annals of
Navarre minutely set down in the text ; and
many have been sagacious enough to point
out the very personages in the story ; there
are keys innumerable which purport to lay
open the mysterious and hidden sense of

Pantao-rucl and Gargantua. Such an al-

...
legoi-y, if it existed, would only mar the

merit of the writer, without adding, at this
remote day, the least interest to his produc-
tions. We feel justified, however, in ac-
quitting Rabelais on that score. True, in
his rambling portraiture of society, he might
occasionally copy from the life, he might
now and then introduce the playful carica-
ture of some living personage, he might al-
lude to passing events, and to the literary,
religious and political concerns of those
stirring times ; nor did he ever permit an
opportunity to escape of plying the lash
upon his mortal enemies the monks, several
of whom he has handed down to unenviable
fame. But his native taste served him too
well to permit him to blunder into a sus-
tained allegory.

Our wayward man of genius was reaping
his full harvest of fame when he was vis-

1850.]

Life and Writings of Francois Rabelais.

491

ited at Lyons by his old friend and fellow-
student Cardinal du Bellay. This was
one of the most remarkable persons of the
age. He was then engaged in negotiating
the reconciliation of Henry VIII. with the
church, and he proposed to Rabelais to
accompany him to Rome. The author of
Pautagruel, who was never proof against
any temptation to ramble, accepted the
offer with delight, and entered the cardi-
nal's household in the double capacity of
physician and secretary. He carried his
bold wit and joyous humor even into the
presence of the Pope. When he saw the
Cardinal kissing the slipper, he went about
the reception room inquiring what sufficient
mark of submissiveness was left for so
humble an individual as himself to give,
when a great Lord like his master was kiss-
ing the foot of his holiness. The jest was
coarse enough, especially as it was worded
on this occasion. But had it been coarser,
it could hardly have incurred the dis-
pleasure of the joyous Clement, who loved
a joke as he loved science and art. Yet
Rabelais, who was well aware of it, pre-
tended to feel alarm, for the purpose, most
probably, of heightening the effect of his
daring allusion. With great show of terror
he ran out of the palace, bestrode the first
horse he found, and galloped away through
the rain, which was pouring in torrents,
until overtaken by a special messenger,
who assured him of his pardon. When
again led into the presence and requested
to test the sincerity of his absolution by
naming any boon within the gift of the
tiara, he humbly supplicated the Pope to
excommunicate him. Clement was as-
tounded : but Rabelais explained : he had
heard an old woman exclaim, after vainly
trying to kindle a fire, that the wood had
the Pope's curse upon it. " Therefore,"
continued he, " your Holiness can confer
no greater favor upon me ; for I am a
Frenchman, and my countrymen are great-
ly addicted to making bonfires of folk."

The Pope and his court were highly
amused by these bufiboneries, and felt the
less disposed to take offence at them that
they proceeded from one of the most learn-
ed and ingenious scholars of the day. For
Rabelais, in spite of his Epicurean doctrines,
and his joyous affectation of pleasure-seek-
ing, remained to his last day a most inde-
fatigable student. During a residence of

VOL. V. NO. V. NEW SERIES.

six months at the Papal Court, he found
time to pursue the most extensive re-
searches in Botany and Archoeology, and
to add the Arabic to his stock of foreign
languages.

On his way to Paris with despatches, he
was detained at Lyons, because, witli
characteristic improvidence, he had squan-
dered on the road his allowance for the
journey. He extricated himself from his
embarrassment by a practical joke. Dis-
guising his name and person, he invited
the principal doctors of the city to confer
with an adept of the Art, who, from his
travels had brought home the most valua-
ble secrets. At the appointed time, after
disguising his appearance in a suitable cos-
tume, he came before them, and in a coun-
terfeit voice, addressed his audience on the
most arduous topics of the science. When
he found that he had chained their atten-
tion and their interest, he proceeded with
an air of great caution and mystery to
close the doors of the apartment. Then
in a low tone and guarded manner, he an-
nounced his secret : " Behold an infallible
poison which I have brought from Italy to
deliver France from her incubus, the King
and all his family." The magistrates were
immediately apprised of this nefarious
scheme, and caused Rabelais to be arrested
and sent to Paris for trial. As a State-
prisoner he was sumptuously entertained
on the road, and reached Paris in the best
possible condition. When he was ushered
into the presence of Francis I. the royal
patron of arts and letters courteously dis-
missed the Lyonese delegation, and invited
their prisoner to partake of the cheer of
the royal table, where Rabelais drank deep
and kept the court in a Homeric laughter
by the relation of his successful impos-
ture.

After this adventure Rabelais returned
to Lyons, ubi sedes est studiormnmeorum^
as he says himself. In this city, he gave
himself up entirely to study, and pursued
his intellectual labors with a fervor and dis-
interested activity that entitle him to be
considered a benefactor of humanity. As
physician to the hospital of Lyons, he gave
lectures on medicine, and dissected public-
ly. As superintendaut of the printing es-
tablishment of his friend Sebastian Gry-
phius, he revised and corrected several
editions of classical works. In his labora-
32

492

Life and Writings of Francois Rabelais.

[May,

tory he questioned nature and strove to rob
her of her deepmost secrets. For he saw
and advocated the necessity of experiment
lono- before novum organum and the
(anglice) reputed father of induction. At
nio-ht he ascended his observatory and
studied the stars until they grew pale in
the first light of day. He sought relaxa-
tion in the society of a chosen band of
friends, who had secretly organized, it is
said, under his auspices for the purpose of
advocating with the masses the doctrines
of Calvin, reserving for the initiated only
the knowledge of their remoter mysteries.
These consisted, it would seem, in that
practical epicureism expounded in the
foundation of the monastery of Theleme
by Gargantua. The mental exertions
which he put forth at this period did not
make him forget the style of literature
which he had created ; he published sev-
eral comic almanacks, which have served
as models to many imitators. It would
seem that his contemporaries would not see
the lurking satire in its true light, and took
the predictions of Rabelais in such sober
earnest that he soon obtained a vast repu-
tation as a grave astrologer. It was also
at this time that he completed and gave to
the public his final version of the first two
books of his humorous Gargantua and Pan-
tagruel, adhering to his former plan only
in so far as it made war against the ab-
surdities of chivalrous romances, but in-
dulging in the most open manner his de-
testation of monks and convents, and his
quiet contempt for bigotry in all sects and
religions.

This work appeared at a period of fierce
religious persecution. King Francis and
his Court, alarmed at the progress of the
Lutherans and Calvinists, suddenly took
into their heads to become strict Catholics.
Several wretches were burned for heresy.
The best writers of France were scattered
in exile over Europe, or lingered in canon-
ical dungeons. Rabelais wisely resolved
to absent himself for awhile, and again
took refuge at Rome, well knowing that he
was nowhere safer from the persecution of
ecclesiastics than in the shadow of the ec-
clesiastical throne. He threw himself at
the feet of the pontiff and presented an
humble request for absolution. Paul III.
proved as indulgent to the author of Pan-
^jagruel as his predecessor had been, and

granted him a brief which fully absolved
him and enabled him to practice medicine,
(without fee) while still enjoying the ben-
efit of the clerical profession — a kind of
roving commission which was well suited
to our author'.s taste. Rabelais did not
see fit to return immediately to France,
but remained at Rome, amusing the Pope
with his humorous repartees, and dictating,
it is said, many of those witty sarcasms
which the statue of Parguin had the privi-
lege of publishing in that city.

In 1537, he returned to Montpellier,
where he lectured and practised extensive-
ly, applying his system of Pantagruelism
to the cure of the sick. Indeed, he con-
sidered it a point of the utmost importance
to make his patients laugh. " Laughing,"
he says, " is the disthictive characteristic
of the human race." But he never thought
of complying with the conditions upon
which he has received his bull of absolu-
tion, until he found it necessary to do so
in order to receive emolument from an ec-
clesiastical preferment. He then sent a
new petition to Rome, and armed with a
new patent, repaired to the Benedictine
convent of Saint Maur. Here he resided
for a while, availing himself, nevertheless,
of his license, to practise physic, for ram-
bling about the country whenever his way-
ward spirit prompted him. We learn from
his correspondence, that he passed several
years in travelling from place to place,
without any other aim or object than to
enjoy life or to investigate some curious
subject.

At last, in 1546, he issued his third
book, requesting his reader to forbear laugh-
ing until the 78th should appear. We
cannot help wondering at his audacity in
acknowledging such a production at a time
when the monks had all their own way in
France. Dolet had lately been burned
alive. Des Periers had committed suicide
to escape religious persecution. And
Marot had sought safety in exile, for hav-
ing translated the Psalms into French
verse. But Rabelais had powerful friends,
and tact enough to avail himself of their
aid.

The third book is immeasurably superior
to its predecessor. We are no longer dis-
gusted with fabulous accounts of giant
prowess ; we are no longer puzzled by ob-
scure local and personal allusions. We

1850.]

Life and Writings of Francois Rabelais.

493

are admitted as spectators to a gorgeous
scene, where the comedy of life is enacting
under our eyes. Satirical and philoso-
phical digressions no longer occur as excep-
tions only. They form the substance it-
self of the work. Of the personages of
the story, nothing remains but the names.
We forget that Pantao;ruel is a eriant, and
we love to hear him expound his shrewd
and practical views of human aifairs.
Panurge himself is the embodiment of the
doctrines of Rabelais. His playful cyn-
icism is the life and soul of the work. If
we here attempt to convey an idea of this
strange production, it is less with a hope of
doing justice to so vast a subject within the
limits of our present paper, than with a
view to induce others to take it up. Our
scant extracts are chosen not altogether
from the finest passages, but from those
which are most free from obscenity, that
prevailing taint of the work. We are
compelled to give these extracts in our
own language, however inadequate, be-
cause such published translations as we
have met with are unfaithful, and often
mar the simplicity of the original with in-
terpolated wit.

King Pantagruel, having conquered Dip-
sodie, proceeds to dispose of his new terri-
tory on the most approved feudal princi-
ples. He gives the lordship of Salmy-
gondin to his favorite Panurge, who hus-
bands his estate so providently that " in
less than fourteen days he wasted and
dilapidated the fixed or contingent revenue
of his manor for three years. Nor did he
properly dilapidate it, as you might say, in
founding monasteries, erecting temples,
building colleges and hospitals, and throw-
ing his bacon to the dogs, but expended it
in a thousand little banquets and merry
roysterings, to which all comers were wel-
come, particularly jolly fellows, young
maidens and trim wenches ; felling timber,
burning large logs for the sale of the ashes,
anticipating his income ; buying high, sell-
ing low, and never waiting for his corn to
grow ripe."

To all this extravagance the king stren-
uously objects, while Panurge undertakes
to defend his conduct, and to prove logic-
ally that it is the duty of every good citizen
to waste his estate and to run in debt.
On this single issue they argue pro and
con, exhausting all the wit and learning

which the topic admits of, and which may
now be found diluted in a thousand plays
and poems from Figaro to Don Cajsar de
Bezan. The discussion proceeds through
several chapters, in that rambling, desul-
tory manner which Sterne has imitated —
as masters alone can imitate. The resem-
blance between the two writers is too ob-
vious to be overlooked. Rabelais is more
practical, more amusing, more anecdotic,
more learned, though loss ostentatious in dis-
playing his knowledge. On the other hand,
he never strives to move the heart; he
never melts, never softens, but remains
throughout joyous and even-tempered.
How could he have indulged the pathetic
mood } Sentimentalism is the luxury of
leisure and seclusion, and Rabelais had
lived a busy life of bustling adventure, of
physical and intellectual dissipation. He
had strained his comprehensive mind in
the pursuit of Truth, and had found that
all things human were a mockery and a
farce ; that no mortal sorrows were worth
a tear, and that the sum of all wisdom and
philosophy was to laugh, quaff, and be
merry.

To return to the story. Panurge, find-
ing that his sophistry is thrown away, and
that the good sense of his benefactor is
proof against his arguments, after vainly
begging that he may be allowed just a few
debts, only to keep his hand in, begins to
look about for some new source of excite-
ment. Accordingly, he presents himself
one morning before Pantagruel with a flea
in his ear — not a metaphorical flea, but a
genuine specimen of entomology, set in
gold earring. His toilet is likewise indi-
cative of a perturbed mind. He has left
off his breeches, and also, desists wearino-
— what was once the pride of his soul — a
certain article of dress, considered indis-
pensable^ at that time, but decidedly in-
expressible at the present day.

" Honest Pantagruel, not understanding
the mystery, interrogated him, asking what
meant this new prosopopeia Quoth
Panurge, ' I have a flea in my ear ; I wish
to marry.' 'In good time,' said Panta-
gruel, ' I am delighted to hear it.' " It
appears, however, that the old rake yet
entertains some doubts and scruples about
the matter. He fears to place himself in
a situation where the lex talionis may be
visited upon him for his past misdeeds.

494

Life and Writings of Francois Rabelais.

[May,

He, therefore, goes about the country,
taking counsel of every one as to whether
he had better marry. To consult Fortune
he adopts several methods in vogue at that
time, dice, dreams, sorcery, and " pricking
the book." Each successive oracle threat-
ens with all the evils of matrimony. But,
with laudable ingenuity, he tortures every
denunciation with a favorable answer, and
persists in interrogating the future. He
consults a sybil, and next, a deaf and dumb
individual. The account of his interviews
with those two personages is comical in the
extreme, and we only refrain from insert-
ing it, for fear of offending the strait-laced
morality of the day. At last he calls at
the chamber of a dying poet, under the
popular impression that there are revela-
tions of the future attendant upon death-
beds. The good old man delivers his ver-
dict in writing, and dismisses his visitors
with a touching, though sarcastic farewell :
"Go, children ; I commend you to the
great God of Heaven ; annoy me no more
with this, or any other business. I have,
this day, which is the last day of May,
and of me, turned out of my house, with
great fatigue and trouble, a crowd of ugly,
unclean, and pestilential beasts, black
and dun, white, grey, and spotted, that
would not let me die in peace, but with
their treacherous stingings, their harpy-
like filchings, and waspish teasings, wea-
pons, forged in the smithery of I know not
what insatiability, roused me from the soft
thinkings whereunto I had yielded myself,
already contemplating, seeing, touching,
and tasting the weal and felicity, which
the good God hath prepared for his ftiith-
ful and his elect in the other life, and in
the state of immortality. Turn ye from
their ways ; be not like unto them ; no
more molest me, and leave me in peace, I
beseech you."

The following chapter, where Panurge,
issuing from the dying poet's chamber, pre-
tends to take the part of the monks, is the
one for which the monks sought to bring
Rabelais to the stake :

" Issuing from the room, Panurge, affecting
to appear quite frightened, said : ' 'Sblood ! I
believe he is a heretic. The devil take me if I
do not. He speaketh evil of the good mendi-
cant fathers, the Cordeliers and Jacobins
those two hemispheres of Christendom, by the
gyrogaomic circumbilivagination whereof, as

by two celestial counterpoises, the whole
autonomatic mafagrobolism of the Roman
Church, whenever it feels pothered with any
gibberish of error, or heresy quivers homocen-
trically.* But what, in all the devil's names,
have those poor devils, the Capuchins and
minims, done unto him ? Are they not suffi-
ciently smoked and embalmed with misery
and calamity, those wretched objects, mere
extracts of ilsh diet 1 On thy faith now,
Brother John, is he in a state of salvation %
By the Lord, he is going damned, as a serpent,
to thirty thousand loads of devils. To speak
evil of those good and valiant pillars of the
Church ! Is that what you call poetic frenzy 1
I cannot stand it ; he sinneth villainously ;
he blasphemeth religion. I am scandalized.'
' I,' said friar John, ' don't care a button.
They abuse everybody, and if everybody
abuses them, I am indifferent. Let us see
whp.t he wrote.' Panurge attentively read the
good old man's writing, and said to the rest :
He is delirious, the poor toper. I excuse
him, however. I think he is near his end.
Let us go malce his epitaph. By his answer,
I am no wiser than I was before. Hearken
here, Epistemon, my darling, dost thou not
think that he answered most resolutely ? By
the Lord, a subtle, rampant, and palpable
sophist. 'Sdeath ! how cautious of speaking
amiss ! He answereth only by disjunctives.
He can but speak the truth, since it is enough

that one part be true. ' The

same was practised,' remarked Epistemon,
' by Tiresias, the great soothsayer, who, ere
he began to prophecy, openly said to those
who consulted him : ' what I shall say, may
or may not happen. Such is the style of
prudent prognoslicators.' ' Nevertheless,' said
Panurge, ' Juno put out both his eyes.'
' True,' answered Epistemon, ' for having de-
cidedly better than herself, the dubious point
mooted by Jupiter.' "

The remainder of the third book is de-
voted to the many attempts of Panurge to
solve his problem, and presents a lively
satire of Divination in all its forms.
Among the various answers he receives,
one of the wittiest is the apologue of the
ring of Hans Carvel, which the poet
Prior borrowed.! If foreign writers have

* Read Ranke's History of the Popes, and ad-
mire how the sagacious genius of Rabelais appre-
ciated what modern historical criticism has but
just begun to appreciate, viz, : the Counter-Refor-
mation, and the agency of the religious orders.

t The researches of the Jesuits have proved that
this anecdote, as well as many other popular sto-
ries, was known in China and Hindostan thou-
sands of years ago. " There is nothing new un-

der the Bua."

,;!^<v3

1850.]

Life and Writings of Francois Rahelais.

495

appropriated, witliout scruple, the rich ores
of RalDclais' inexhaustible mine of inven-
tion, his own countrymen have done the
game to a still greater extent. La Fon-
taine, Moliere, and many others, have
drawn from him some of their happiest
and most humorous passages, which, being
served up at second hand to an Anglo
Saxon public, have made the latter wonder
and exult at the prodigious fertility of
Anglo Saxon genius.

There arose one universal clamor of
hate, spite, and revenge at the appear-
ance of the third book. Calvinists and
monks united to denounce and crush its
author. The latter, however, was arm-
ed at all points. To judicial proceed-
ings he had papal bulls and king's pri-
vileges to oppose. To those who ven-
tured to attack, him in print, he replied
■with scorching satire. His reputation and
standing were but little affected by their
attacks, since a few years afterwards (in
1550, old style) he was appointed Curate
of Meudon. His appointment roused
anew the rage of his enemies, and com-
pelled him, in self-defence, to answer them
once for all. This he did, by publishing
his fourth book. Pressed by our limits,
we can scarcely more than allude to this
wonderful work, which raised the renown
of its author to the highest pitch, and
brought him within the very smoke of the
stake. The fable purports to relate the
adventures of Pantagruel, and his suite,
during their travels. Under cover of this
thin veil of allegory Rabelais plies the lash
in succession over Huguenots and Papists,
lawyers, judges, doctors, and others, in
that pitiless, yet good-humored manner,
of which the secret lies buried with him.
It will be readily perceived that the plot
resembles that of a late work, called Mardi,
the strange title of which may be less bor-
rowed from the original dialects of Poly-
nesia, than from Pantagruel's watchword
(Mardi-Grass) at the great battle on Fa-
rouche Island. There are many other
points of resemblance between the two
works, barring transcendentalism, which
was not yet invented, when Rabelais
wrote. Besides, the adventures of Pan-
tagruel are amusing — so much so, that at
the fiftieth reading of particular passages,
we have laughed till we cried.

Rabelais was so hotly assailed for this

new publication, that he did not venture
to publish its continuation. He was get-
ting old, and wished to die in his bed.
The fifth book appeared after his death.
Its authenticity has been suspected, and
rightly so, we conceive, as regards parti-
cular chapters. But it bears, generally,
the unmistakable stamp of his genius. It is
neither the least remarkable, nor the least
amusing of his works. It contains a satire
on courts and judicial officers, as keen and
severe as it is laughable. There is a pass-
age in the eleventh chapter worthy of
special notice. It foretels woe and cala-
mity whenever the dark mysteries of
French Jurisprudence shall be made evi-
dent to the people. This was first made
fully evident by Beaumarchais, and the
great French Revolution accomplished the
prophecy.

The " good curate of Meudon" was for-
tunate enough to end his days in peace.
He passed the evening of his life in the
midst of his books, plants and instruments,
surrrounded by afi^ectionate parishioners and
in the enjoyment of the most unbounded po-
pularity. Meudon became a place of fre-
fj^uent resort for the admirers of his genius
and continued long after his death to be
considered as a shrine of fashionable pil-
grimage. It is, we conceive, greatly to the
credit of Rabelais, that living as he did, in
an age of fierce religious controversy he
never permitted the prevailing mania to
lead him astray. He merely attacked bigot-
ry wherever he found it, in cloister, univer-
sity, or conventicle. The result was, that
both parties assailed him with equal fury.
Calvin never allowed an opportunity to es-
cape of venting his spite against one from
whom he had hoped so much for the cause
of the Reformation. He forgot his good
breeding so far as to perpetrate an ofiensive
anagram upon the name of our author, who
retorted with much wit and readiness. On
the other hand, the monks were indefati-
gable in striving by their writings and their
intrigues to compass his ruin. It was only
through consummate tact and admirable
address that he escaped the machinations
of cabal and envy.

He met death , at an advanced age in the
true Pantagruelic spirit. When he donned
the black robe according to the rule of his
order, he punned on the first words of the
Psalm : Beati sunt gui moriuntur in

496

Life and Writings of Francois Rabelais,

[May,

DOMINO. The priest wlio attended him,
saw fit, before administering the sacrament,
to question him as to his belief in the Real
Presence. " I believe," said Rabelais,
" that I behold my Saviour precisely as he
once entered Jerusalem, — borne by an ass."
No wonder the poor priest afterwards pub-
lished everywhere that the author of Panta-
gruel died drunk. His last will was char-
acteristic. " 1 have nothing, 1 owe much,
I give the rest to the poor." On the point
of expiring, he mustered his strength,
laughed aloud, and exclaimed, almost with
bis last breath, " draw the curtain, the
farce is over."

This is not the place for us to enlarge
upon the philosophy of Rabelais. A kind
of practical Democritism, made applicable
to human concerns was surely a leading
feature of his mind as it is of his writings.
But he alone is competent to expound his
own doctrines. There is a volume of Pan-
tagruelic wisdom in the following remark
of Panurge " All the weal which Heaven
covers, and which the earth contains in all
its dimensions, height, depth, longitude
and latitude, is not worthy to move our
affections and disturb our senses and spirits.'
As a writer, Rabelais has exerted im-
mense influence on the world. He was
the first to bring out the real wealth of the
French tongue. He was the first of a long
chain of writers who have handed down to
each other, as by a kind of intellectual
conductor, that thorough command, which
be first possessed of the difiicult idioms of
that language. Moliere, La Fontaine,
Voltaire, Gresset, Le Sage, Bcaumarchais,
and a few others, may be considered as the
lineal descendants of that great author.
The sole surviving representative of that
glorious line is Beranger, whose fate it is to
witness the decline of his country's liter-
ature. For, through all the glitter of the
modern school of France, we can discern,
at best, but misdirected genius. The na-
tional taste has become perverted. Gaudy
exotics have been engrafted upon the orig-
inal stock. But they are like parasites
that rob the tree of its sap, while their
verdm-e is that of decay.

In his style, Rabelais affected to use

obsolete expressions. This was only
a consequence of his determination to
champion the genuine vernacular in oppo-
sition to innovators. The writings of his
contemporary Ronsard are more modern by
half a century than his own. He, likewise,
delighted in eccentric turns of phrase.
Whenever he broached a subject, he ex-
hausted it. His great work may be con-
sidered as an encyclopedia of the know-
ledo;e of his ao;e. His boundless command
of expression sometimes betrayed him into
unmeaning accumulations of epithets, mere
catalogues of words, the point of which is
not often evident to us. Such was the
candor of his cynicism, that he hesitated
as little to trifle with his own fame as with
the patience of his readers.

We would, in conclusion, proffer a word
of extenuation in behalf of the moral char-
acter of the writings of Rabelais. True,
they contain many obscene passages. But
remember their date. Will it be credited
that he borrowed some of his most immod-
est anecdotes from contemporary ser-
mons of orthodox preachers ^ Squeam-
ishness was hardly the prevailing sin of the
age, since Luther himself was prone to
write in a style which we could adequate-
ly qualify only by borrowing some of his
own epithets — and these we will not ven-
ture to quote, although they are clothed in
a learned language.

Besides, we deny that the tendency of
our author's writings is immoral, except,
perhaps, in so far as they may inculcate
too great a disregard for human concerns.
Although the perusal of any single page
might revolt the most indulgent, by the
great freedom of expression, still, as you
proceed, you enter more and more into the
spirit of the author. His apparent licen-
tiousness no longer scares your propriety,
and you surrender up your judgment to
him, feeling like a child in the hands of an
intellectual giant, or like a candidate for
initiation at the mysteries of Eleusis, fol-
lowing your guide through passages and
labyrinths of dismal obscurity, yet never
doubting that 3''ou will soon emerge into
the broad li^ht of Heaven.

1850.]

Everstone.

497

EVERSTONE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF " ANDERPORT RECORDS.

(Continued from page 387 J

CHAPTER X.

Early in the winter, Richard Somers
was called by business to a distant part of
the State. He had begun to think of re-
turning, when he fell sick, and was de-
tained a month or two longer. At last,
sufficiently convalescent to relish his morn-
ing's toast and coffee, and to be able to
direct his thoughts without fatigue to cer-
tain octavos bound in well-thumbed law-
calf, which gave dignity to the walls of a
snug apartment situated some four degrees
nearer the rising sun ; he opened letters
bearing a Redland superscription, with no
great annoj-ance, though each was sure to
remind him of a huge arrear of labor.

He received one letter of very peculiar
tenor ; yet, like most of the rest, it came
from a client : —
"Dear Sir :—

It gives me gratification to have it in my
power to inform you that papers have been
discovered which seem to remove all doubt
of the suit's being decided otherwise than
in our favor. That you, sir, who have
supported our cause so ably in its darkest
hours, should conduct it to the prosperous
issue which is dawning before it, would be
our first and most earnest desire, did we
not know w^hat honorable reluctance you
feel to having any agency in Mr. Everlyn's
disappointment. As it is, we rejoice that
circumstances now allow us to relieve you
of the painful duty which you are too up-
right and generous to throw oif yourself.
Are we mistaken, sir, in supposing that the
best retm-n we can make for your steadfast

adherence to us so long aS our interests re-
quired it, is to dispense with your aid the
moment we can do so with safety ? Nearly
by the time this note reaches j^ou, a jury
will probably have been impanneled and a
decision rendered. Thus you will escape
all occasion to reproach yourself for having
injured your friend, whilst yet you have
secured the warm and lasting gratitude of
your clients.

Truly rejoiced to hear of the improve-
ment of your health, and trusting that it
has been ere this perfectly restored,

I am with the deepest respect, &c.,
Sylvester Newlove."

A singular epistle, thought the lawyer ;
and he subjected it to a second reading.
Satisfied then that he did not mistake its
purport, he felt vexed. It is pleasant to
entertain a conviction of one's own impor-
tance, and Somers, though it had cost him
much pain to cleave to the New Yorkers,
was not unnaturally chagrined to be told
that they, being able to get along of them-
selves, were quite content to part company.
The very act of self-sacrifice is attended
w^ith a degree of enjoyment, and it is hard
to be balked of the luxury. A sensation
of mortification, too, is mingled with the
disappointment. To find no use for all the
moral nerve which by much forethought
and diligence has been provided for some
desperate endeavor, is attended with a dis-
comfiture like that experienced when one
rushes with prodigious momentum against
a door which gently opens of its own ac-

498

Everstone.

[May,

cord the instant the shoulder of the assail-
ant is about to impinge upon it. In such
a predicament, not only is there a waste of
carefully collected vigor, but an awkward
tumble is very apt to follow, with possibly
the coincidence of a contusion. I3esides,
however desirable any object, no man is
fully contented, unless the attainment of it
be the result of duly appointed means. A
zealous lawyer identifies himself with his
client ; the suit is not another's struggle,
but his own, and there is no person from
Cassar to the juvenile engineer who drains
a mud-puddle or dams a gutter, but pre-
fers to owe his triumph altogether to his
own exertions.

But if Somers' services in the suit were
to be dispensed with, who was to supply
his place. He was not at a loss to con-
jecture. It will be remembered that Caleb
Schrowder had in vain applied to him to
conduct the controversy with the squatter
Foley. The headstrong Northerner, not
frightened by a phenomenon so strange
and ominous as a lawyer's refusal of a case,
looked about for another and less reluctant
attorney. Such an one was found in Mal-
lefax, who, after secu.ring to himself a suf-
ficiently respectable amount of fees, con-
ducted his client in the end to the very
same result that Somers had declared to
be necessary — a compromise with Foley.
Mallefax, however, managed the affair
with such adroitness, that Schrowder not
only loosened his purse-strings promptly at
every summons, but expressed himself per-
fectly satisfied with his lawyer. He even
urged the propriety of giving him some-
thing to do in the more important suit.
Somers at first would not listen to the sug-
gestion, but finding himself exposed to
continual importunity, subsequently yield-
ed the point. Well aware, indeed, that
the candidate was a sharp fellow, he thought
that if strictly watched he might, perhaps,
be made serviceable. Mallefax, after be-
ing thus retained, appeared very active
and earnest, so much so that all three of
the New Yorkers came — in spite of the
di-y hints of Somers — to repose considera-
ble confidence in him. There could be
little doubt accordingly to what hands the
Newloves had been induced to commit
themselves. That they were likely to be
led into mischief, was equally clear, and
this consideration, if Somers had been dis-

posed to harbor malice on account of the
abrupt dismission, was capable of affording
ample consolation. I will not venture to
deny that such a sentiment might have
passed through his mind, but it is certain
it did not abide there. The prospect of
his late clients suffering from their hasty
measure only aggravated his uneasiness.

A whole afternoon was spent in grum-
bling at the self-sufficiency which had pre-
sumed to act independent of counsel. The
next mornins;, he beo-an to look at the mat-
ter from a different side. If Everlyn
could no longer regard him as the agent of
ruin, and if he was henceforward to be ex-
empt from every office conflicting Avith the
unreserved manifestation of his attach-
ment to Sidney, why need such a happy
result cause him discomposure .-' As to
any damage threatening Newlove et alt^
he was not responsible for it. No lack of
fidelity on his part had betrayed them into
bestowing undue trust upon a knave. And
moreover, the letter told him the matter
was irrevocably settled. Perhaps there
had really been a discovery. The New
Yorkers may have gained the day and
been put in condition to impose what terms
they pleased on their competitor. If so,
he might well congratulate himself that he
was not obliged to be the go-between who
should tell Everlyn it was not permitted
him to trespass any more upon the soil of
another.

Before the close of that second day's
meditations, our lawyer became not simply
resigned to the new disposition of affairs
but joyful and elate. And so refreshing
proved the ensuing night's rest that he
deemed himself well enough to start on his
journey towards Redland.

As he crossed the western border of the
county, he was very curious to learn what
decision had been made by the jury, but
met no one capable of giving the informa-
tion. He hesitated awhile what point to
strike first. Munny's store suggested it-
self as the natural centre of intelligence.
But to go thither, the habitations of the
New Yorkers would have to be passed,
and he had small inclination at that mo-
ment to hold a conference with them. No ;
love demanded as its tribute that he should
direct his unshackled steps first to Ever-
stone. He had now the opportunity to
show Sidney that no sooner was the stern

1850.]

Everstone.

499

restraint of professional duty removed than
his heart's immediate impiilse was to seek
her presence.

" Is Miss Everlyn at home ?" was his
inquiry at the door.

"No, sir ; she's gone to take a walk up
the big hill where the spring is, way past
the fodder house."

" Has Mr. Everlyn gone with her.?"

" Yes, sir."

" If I leave my horse here, I can walk
across the fields and find them, can I not .''"

" Very easy, su-. If they arn't at the
top of the hill, you can see from there all
around."

Somers went, accordingly. After a
brisk walk, which excited a glow in cheeks
made pale by sickness, he stood on the
summit of the eminence. It was late in
March. The grass had commenced to
put on that hue which is so grateful to the
eye of man and beast ; and the budding
trees gave promise of their leafy treasures.
A little distance down the further slope, a
rivulet bubbled forth ; on the rocks which
surrounded its source two or three persons
were seated. The beholder recognized at
once the fine manly bust of Mr. Everlyn,
and it was impossible that a lover's eye
could mistake the proud and graceful car-
riage of the bonneted head beyond. Som-
ers hastened to the spot.

Everlyn, and his daughter, and Howard
Astiville, who, it seems, had accompanied
them in their walk, rose and saluted the
visitor courteously, though with an evident
air of restraint. Somers alluded to the
mildness and beauty of the day. Everlyn
coldly assented to the truth of the remark,
adding, that such delightful weather suc-
ceeding the confinement of the winter, had
tempted them to take a longer stroll than
perhaps, was altogether prudent.

" I do not wonder," Somers then rejoin-
ed, " that you should avail yourself of the
earliest permission which the seasons give
to issue out of doors, when you have so
beautiful an eminence as this to resort to,
and one commanding so extensive a pros-
pect."

" That it affords a view of nearly the
whole of my purchase," said Everlyn,
" was a slight recommendation of the spot
to one who saw himself in imminent dan-
ger of losing everything which it overlooked :
but events that have turned up within the

last few days give as difi'erent a color to
the landscape, as that which less interested
eyes behold, when the snows of February
yield place to the verdure of Spring."

Somers hardly knew how to interpret
this observation. Did it mean that New-
love, notwithstanding his confidence, had
lost the suit } But, after all, what mat-
tered it to him .? The Northerners had
voluntarily given him his discharge. He
stood relieved from all concern, either in
their success, or their defeat. Without
waiting to learn the fate of others, he
would explain the happy change in his own
position.

He said: "You remember, I hope,
Mr. Everlyn, that I have assured you from
the very first that nothing but a convic-
tion of duty could compel me to make any
efforts tending to your injury."

"I do call to mind, sir, that you have
heretofore expressed yourself to that ef-
fect."

"Perhaps, Mr. Everlyn, you have been
disposed to doubt whether I was sincere in
the declaration. And I am not sure that,
ignorant as you were, of many of the con-
siderations which afi"ected me, you could
avoid forming an unfavorable judgment.
The consciousness that I was liable to the
suspicion of duplicity constituted not the
least painful circumstance of my situation.
I feel a hearty joy in being at liberty now
to say, that there is nothing which I hope
for more unreservedly than your success
and happiness. I tell you, sir, I would
not, for the fee-simple of all the acres be-
tween this hill and Anderport, place my-
self again, as, during months past, I have
been placed. I trust, sir, I am no longer
disbelieved."

Somers, as he ceased speaking, stretch-
ed himself up proudly, and looked around.
Everlyn, with the frank and coi'dial man-
ner of their earlier acquaintance, declared
how gratified he was to know that their
friendship could be renewed in all its vigor. "

The lawyer immediately afterwards turn-
ed to Sidney : " May I not hope that 1 am
restored to your favor also .'"

This appeal was made with so much
earnestness of tone, that Sidney, who could
not be unaware that sbe had more than
one lover watching her demeanor, blushed.
Her father quickly answered in her stead :

" Sidney is a good, amiable girl, I think,

500

Everstone.

[May,

and will never bate anybody who does not
seek to injure Everstone."

Everlyn went on. "So, they could not
induce you, Soniers, to take a share in
their last rascally plot. They had to look
elsewhere for somebody to perform such
dirty business ! My only surprise is, that
you were not undeceived, as to their char-
acter, and the merit of their claims, long
ago. But, better late than never. I sup-
pose that, notwithstanding you have es-
caped from them, you would not like to
speak of the intrigues, which they commu-
nicated in confidence, or I should ask you
to satisfy our curiosity upon some points."

Somers gravely rejoined, that he could
not, for one moment, allow it to be sup-
posed that anything had transpired, during
his intercourse with his late clients, to
lead him to doubt either their personal in-
tegrity, or the legal strength of their title.
'' I speak particularly," added the lawyer,
" of Mr. Newlove and Mr. Dubosk. With
Caleb Schrowder I never chose to have
any dealings, except in so far as his rights
were involved in theirs. It is but simple jus-
tice to the two former to say, that if 1 am
unwilling to advocate their cause, my aver-
sion springs only from the fact that their
triumph is inseparable from the defeat of
older and dearer friends, and it is, I think,
due also to my own honor to make known
that my release conies from their free, un-
solicited act. There was no abandonment
of the engagement on my part. Examine
this letter, sir."

Everlyn took the open sheet extended to
him, and began to run his eye over the
contents.

" Read aloud, if you i)lease," said
Somers.

Everlyn, after doing so, folded up the
paper, and looked first at Sidney, and then
at Howard Astiville. No remark was
made, till Everlyn, glancing at the back
of the latter, said : " This is addressed to
you, I observe, at Zephyrville — have you
not since seen Mr. Newlove, or received
some further communication from him .?"

" I have neither seen him, nor heard
from him," answered Somers. "The note
is dark, except upon one point. It is this,
however, which alone interests me, and I
have sought to learn nothing else. Mr.
Newlove here tells me he requires my ser-
vices no longer, I am perfectly satisfied

to remain in ignorance of the circumstan-
ces which have induced him to come to
this decision."

"And would you have us believe you
ignorant of what occurred in Court the
other day .?" This query came from How-
ard.

" I am altogether uninformed," replied
Somers. " Have the jury agreed upon a
verdict .''"

'' All other persons in Court, at any
rate," said Howard, " have agreed upon
one opinion."

" And what is that, if I may ask .?"

" They are convinced of this sir, that
however worthy your clients may be, one
of them has a daughter of very questiona-
ble character."

" Explain," said Somers, reddening.
"I do not understand you."

"I must give you a narrative, then,
from the beginning," returned Howard,
with a smile. " The jurymen were im-
panneled last Monday, and the excellent
Mr. Mallefax appeared as counsel for New-
love and others. With great parade, a pa-
per was exhibited, purporting to be the ori-
ginal copy of a survey made a good many
years ago by Spencer Harrison — possibly
you never saw the paper, Mr. Somers V

"No! Goon."

" This survey was pretended to have
been made for insertion in a deed of bar-
gain and sale, from my grandfather, in
favor of somebody or other, whose name is
of no importance, as the deed was never
executed. The terms of the survey, how-
ever, seemed to be drawn upon the suppo-
sition that the Astiville land extended no
further than the Upper Branch, and hence
your enterprising friends jumped to the
conclusion that this was an acknowledg-
ment, by my grandfather, of the reality of
that Compton title, on which the Yankees
rest."

" Pretty good collateral evidence," ob-
served Somers, " though insufiicient by
itself."

" But hear the issue ! Mason, our
chief lawyer, scrutinized the paper, and,
although the writing bore a considerable
resemblance to that of old Hanison, he
thought he detected some differences.
Harrison, you know, has been very infirm
this long time, — indeed, it was reported
the evenina; before the trial that he was on

1850.]

Everstone.

501

the point of death. It is, by no means,
probable that the New Yorkers supposed
he was really out of the world. Mason,
upon application to the judge, was allowed
to send to the old surveyor's, and procure
papers, in corroboration or overthrow of
that which had been offered in evidence.
Spencer Harrison had that morning par-
tially revived — and in this recognize how
Providence oftentimes interposes to disap-
point the schemes of villainy ! Harrison
was not only in the possession of his mental
faculties, but was able to speak with coher-
ence and intelligibility. He informed the
persons who visited him, where to find the
the original field-notes of the survey
alluded to. In those field-notes, which, of
course, were immediately brought into
Court, no mention whatever was made of
either branch of the Hardwater. The
ti'uth was, that the tract of land measured
— which was only of some three or four
hundred acres size — did not reach so far
South. Another fact also, and the judge
was very much struck with it. The field-
notes were written in an altogether differ-
ent hand from that which Harrison used of
later years. The person who made up
this false survey, ignorant that there had
been any change in the surveyor's chiro-
graphy, had written in a flowing, scrawly
fashion, instead of using the stiff" and up-
right characters, which would have suited
the date assigned."

" Do not stop, sir," said Somers impa-
tiently," what happened next V

" Well," continued Howard, " the Court-
room afforded quite an amusing scene to
the lookers-on. ]\fallefex fidgetted about
uneasily, now examining one paper, and
now another, screwing up his features the
while into expressions, whose like were
never seen on any other countenance.
Finally, he declared plumply that he did'nt
know what to make of it, but that Miss
Emma Newlove had given him the paper as
genuine. All eyes were bent on the young
lady, who, as it fortunately happened, was
in the Court-room at the time. She was
greatly abashed, and did not attempt to
deny Mallefax's representation."

'' What did the jury do .=^"

' ' They failed to agree ; yet a large ma-
jority were against the New Yorkers."

"This is certainly a very remarkable
statement," said the lawyer.

"It is a correct one, however," observed
Everlyn, "as I can testify. I was pres-
ent at the trial, and shared in the universal
surprise excited by the revelations so un-
expec tedly made . ' '

Somers, after a few moments' silent
thought, inquired :

" Where is the paper supposed to have
come from .?"

Howard answered in a quick, decided
tone, " There can be no question that
Emma Newlove forged it."

"I do not believe it," said Somers,
shortly. " 'Tis absurd to think of such a
thing !"

" You are alone in your opinion of its
absurdity, Mr. Somers. She is a smart,
accomplished young lady, I am told, and
quite capable of executing such a perform-
ance."

" Pshaw," returned Somers. " You,
also, are capable of reading and writing ;
but does this amount to the same as saying
that you are capable of forgery V

" You mistake me, sir," said the young
man, " 1 did not mention the fact of Miss
Newlove having received a good educa-
tion, as proof, but by way of reply to an
anticipated objection. There are many
other more cogent reasons for believing her
guilty of the crime which it is clear some
one has committed. Mallcfax is the only
other person whom there is any ground to
suspect, and Sylvester Newlove has stated
since Monday, that his daughter acknow-
ledges having herself communicated the
paper to the attorney. And if she did not
forge the survey, why is no attempt made
to account for its having come into her
hands .?"

" You may pile argument on argument,
Mr. Astiville — or rather you may continue
to heap up shadows of arguments, but you
will sooner convince me that yonder water
is flowing up hill than that Miss Newlove
has done what you say."

" That is con6dently spoken," exclaim-
ed Howard mischievously, " You could not
deny the charge with more earnestness if
it were made against yourself."

" And what of that V replied Somers,
" Does it appear so marvellous and incom-
prehensible that a man should be as ready
to repel an undeserved reproach from
another person as from himself.^"

" I stand corrected, sh. I ought not to

502

Everstone.

[May,

wonder, for lawyers are accustomed of old
to speak as fluently for one culprit as
another, or if there be any difference in the
quantity of pathos expended, it is measured
out, they say, according to the amount of
consideration."

" A sneer requires no answer," said
Somers calmly.

" Yet," rejoined Howard, " If you so
unceremoniously reject the reasons which
have seemed to us sufficient to establish
Miss Newlove's culpability, I think we
are fairly entitled to demand in return
some other proof of her innocence than a
sweeping assertion. You admit, sir, that
you are quite ignorant of the circumstances
of the case except so far as you have been
informed by us, and still you pronounce
upon them with the manner of one who
possesses perfect knowledge. Is this reas-
onable, I appeal to your own sound judg-
ment, Mr. Somers ? Is this young lady
whom we supposed to have been wafted
hither from Yankee-land, an angel from
Heaven } Are presumptions which would
overwhelm any other individual to be al-
lowed no weight when urged against her?''''

" Miss Newlove has not yet been ar-
raigned, I believe," returned Somers,
" nor have I been appointed her counsel —
perhaps it will be as well to postpone the
discussion till then. By that time I may
become less obnoxious to the charge of ig-
norance which you now cast at me."

Howard took pleasure in pressing on the
other's evident reluctance. "If the Grand
Jury have not taken up the matter, pri-
vate persons may, notwithstanding, form
their opinions."

" I admit it, Mr. Astiville, and so far am
I from questioning the liberty of private
judgment, that although you may entertain
some very erroneous notions, I will not pre-
sume to controvert them. At present, in
truth I can find more agreeable employ-
ment if Miss Everlyn will allow me to
assL=t her to surmount that fence."

While this conversation was going on, the
party had been walking slowly towards the
house. They had reached the edge of the
field where a high fence met them.

" I thank you," said Sidney in reply to
Somers' offer of service, " but we can avoid
the obstacle altogether by walking a little
way to the right."

As they proceeded homeward, by the

course which Sidney pointed out, Somerg
contrived to keep close at her right hand.
On the other side was the fence, and Ever-
lyn and Howard walked in the rear. The
latter was by no means pleased at this ar-
rangement. He had not been prepared to
see Somers place himself on such easy and
familiar footing with Miss Everlyn. And
compelled as he 'j was to listen to the old
gentleman's remarks upon the beauty of
the wheat-field along the edge of which
they were passing, jealousy enabled him to
keep an eye and an ear attentive to the
couple in front. He had never been a
friend of Somers, and since the lawyer's open
quarrel with his father, thought he had a
right to hate him. That this man should
step before him now with such assur-
ance, and seem to make more progress
at once in the obtaining Sidney Everlyn's
favor than he himself had presumed to ex-
pect after months of assiduous courtship,
was intolerable. He had noticed how sen-
sitive Somers was upon the subject of
Emma Newlove, and instinct told him,
that Sidney, however amiable, could not
be very much gratified to hear her suitor
expatiate upon the merits of another young
lady ; so he resolved to provoke his rival
to renew the discussion which had been
broken off. An opportunity was not long
in occurring.

Somers, during his talk with Sidney, na-
turally referred to the pain which her for-
mer coldness had inflicted. " I am sorry,"
he said, " that you should have so misjudg-
ed me. What could I do .' I had engaged
myself to these persons before I heard that
your father was on the opposite side ; they
relied upon me, and should I forsake
them."

" But yet," said Sidney, " if you had
become aware that they were in the wrong,
I confess I cannot clearly comprehend how
any blame could have been attached to you
for withdrawing."

" No ; and if I had been convinced that
their claim was unfounded, not only should
1 have been justifiable in quitting them,
but an ordinary sense of right would have
compelled me to that course. Here lay
the difficulty. My heart was warmly and
entirely enlisted on your side — but stubborn
reason will not yield to sentiment. So
strongly was I biassed in your father's fa-
vor, that could I have but seen the balance

1850.]

Everstone.

508

tang even, my eyes, blinded by partiality,
would easily have been persuaded that the
scale in which your interests hung was the
heaviest Though I tried hard, I could
not deceive myself. To undertake the
cause of these men, to tell them it was just,
and then to turn around and, from personal
considerations only, without any offence
committed on their part, to break my en-
gagement and desert them in their time of
need ! — I should have been dishonored for-
ever."

" I imagine too," interposed Howard
stepping up, " that your clients were gifted
with such noble and attractive qualities,
that on this account you could not have felt
justified in leaving them to their fate."

" That is nothing to the purpose," re-
plied the lawyer, not at all grateful for the
interruption. " The character of the client
should not be allowed to affect one's esti-
mation of the case."

" Then, we have your authority for be-
lieving these Yankee gentlemen very dis-
agreeable persons."

" Far from it, sir. All that I have seen,
induces me to regard j\Ir. ISewlove as an
upright liberal-minded man ; Ralph Dub-
osk is an industrious and skilful farmer,
and he possesses other qualities which in-
sure him the respect of every one who
knows him ; it is possible that even Schrow-
der has some good points, though I confess
I have not yet found them out."

" I do think you are right about New-
love," observed Howard frankly, " He has
really the look of a gentleman, and he
speaks in a mild courteous tone, as if he
had not been associating with oxen all his
days."

Everlyn now spoke, " I must also say in
justice to Mr. Newlove, that he has ad-
hered very faithfully to the terms of the
temporary agreement which has been made
in relation to our respective use of certain
portions of the land. A fine young horse
of mine, happening to stray over into the
vicinity of his dwelling, he had him caught
and sent home to me, which is more neigh-
borly conduct than is sometimes met with
at the hands of persons who are neither
.strangers nor adversaries in a lav»^-suit."

" Ah, what a pity it is that his daughter
has behaved so shamefully!" sighed How-
ard, in a very pathetic manner.

" Do her the justice," said Somers, " to

believe her innocent, till the contrary is
established."

" How singularly matters have turned
out !" continued Howard, " the very means
which she took to secure success, are like-
ly to result in the overthrow of all her
hopes. No jury will ever be persuaded
that a cause which requires the prop of
forgery, can have merits of its own to stand
upon."

" For my part," said Sidney, " I am
sorry if we are to owe our success to the
misconduct of another. I cannot but hope,
even at the risk of our losing the suit, that
Miss Newlove may be able to show that
the false survey did not originate with her.
For the honor of our sex as well from re-
gard to common charity, I must believe
it impossible that a woman could be led by
a sordid love of gain to meddle with crimes
in which the lords of Creation have usually
enjoyed unmolested their disgraceful mono-
poly."

" I thank you !" returned Somers with
animation, " And be assured on my report
that this young lady has in her favor not
only the general presumption of her sex's
innocence, but particular qualities of her
own, totally incompatible with conduct
such as is now charged. I wish you were
acquainted with her, and could see for
yourself how amiable and mild and consci-
entious she is."

" In truth, you ought to be grateful to
her, jNIr. Somers," said Howard, " since
she has been considerate enough not to in-
volve you in this ugly business of the sur-
vey. This very circumstance proves her
to possess abilities which you have not en-
umerated in the catalogue of her admirable
traits. She is a consummate judge of char-
acter, doubtless, and perceived that you
were not the proper person to support a
forgery, so she had recourse to IMallefax
who, it is not unfair to believe, is troubled
with few scruples. How adroitly she gave
you the go-by in that letter !"

" You are altogether wrong," said So-
mers with heat, " her motives were very
different."

" What were they then .''"

The lawyer was silent.

Howard resumed ; "Oh, you are quite
too partial to Miss Newlove, to view her
procedure in the proper light. She sud-
denly discarded you, whom she knew to be

504

Everstone.

[May,

a person of integrity, and took np Malle-
fax who is notorious for being tlie very op-
posite."

" Is it not possible," remarked Sidney,
gently, " that the Newloves, strangers
here, were unaware of Mr. Mallefax's ill-
repute.'"

" We cannot suppose so," answered
Howard, " without imputing blame to Mr.
Somers, whose duty it was to have caution-
ed them against him."

The lawyer appealed to here, by a look
of inquiry, admitted that he had warned his
clients not to put trust in Mallefas.

" And why was it," continued the other,
" that you were not consulted with regard
to this paper, Mr. Somers.' If Emma
Newlove thought proper to spare you the
pain of appearing again in Court opposed
to Mr. Everlyn, why was it thought inad-
visable moreover, to refrain from asking
your opinion upon the evidence to be pre-
sented .? Is this excess of delicacy to be
attributed to the fear of shocking your
nerves by the spectacle of a document so
ominous of ruin to your friend's fortune }
Or did she apprehend that 3^ou might be-
tray her cause at the very last } No, no !
It is plain she feared you might detect and
expose the meditated crime."

Somers perceived that young Astiville
had a malicious object for endeavoring to
draw him forth, but he thought it an un-
worthy thing to stand by in silence while
reproach was heaped on one so blameless
as he believed Emma. "If Sidney," was
bis thought, " be ungenerous enough to
take it ill that I should defend absent inno-
cence, I must have some other rule than
her opinion to square my conduct by."

Howard who had continued to inveigh
acainst Miss Newlove, wound up by say-
ino- " You acknowledge then, that our
judgment is right, and that she is unworthy
of defence.''

The lawyer replied, " That an error
has been committed is evident — a very
serious error ; but the motives that led to
it, ought, I think, to escape such bitter
censure. I do not deny that Mr. Newlove,
and his daughter have been guilty of the
weakness of paying regard to my peace of
mind, it was very great misconduct, per-
haps, and you may blame them for it, but
I can not. As to the assertion that their
failure to consult me, respecting the force

and authenticity of the survey, implies
criminality, it hardly deserves an answer.
I was absent, and an invalid at the time
when it came to light. Who does not see
besides, that, if they had gained the suit
by acting under my advice, I should have
been just as much implicated in Mr.
Everlyn's hurt as if I had appeared openly
in Court } They did not wish to save me
merely from being recognised as their
Counsel. No, I thank them for not sus-
pecting me of the meanness of desiring to
shun any responsibility which properly at-
tached to me ! Appreciating my feelinga
they sought to relieve me from the true
burden of my situation, the necessity of
acting in any way to the prejudice of those
whose welfare I esteemed as my own. It
is very hard, indeed, that Miss Newlove
should be subjected to suspicion on account
of a measure which was prompted only by
a most kind and generous impulse. Had
her nature possessed more selfishness, had
she been as considerate of her own security
as she was of the comforts of others, she
would have avoided the danger of such
misconstruction. Yet, it seems to me that
this disposition of hers which has made her
obnoxious to suspicion, should satisfy us
she is incapable of guilt. No one who has
had even the slight degree of acquaintance
with her that I have had, can ever bring
himself to believe that she could have de-
scended at one step to such a depth of in-
famy. What other evidence indeed of her
innocence need be offered than that which
she bears on her countenance. Is not in-
genuous truth written there by the very
hand of nature .''"

" You speak with ardor in the young
lady's behalf, Mr. Somers."

" And have I not reason to ?" he said,
turning suddenly to Howard, who made the
remark, " at a time when my motives were
misinterpreted by all others, when friends,
whose happiness was the single aspiration
of my heart, looked cold upon me, then
Miss Newlove had the charity to believe
that a lawyer may be something else than
the most sordid and groveling of creatures.
Clearly aware, as she was, what cause I
had to hope for her defeat, she did not dis-
trust me. Nay, more, this knowledge
only seemed to her an argument for bestow-
ing an additional confidence on me. This
freely tendered, un doubting faith, it must

1850.]

Everstone.

505

not be forgotten, was manifested by a
stranger ; and if she had known me ever so
well, she might have been pardoned for a
degree of solicitude and suspicion. Heaven
bear me witness, she appeared to have
more confidence in my integrity, than I
dared have myself!"

" Yet," said Howard, quite unmoved by
the other's warmth of diction, '' if Miss
JN'ewlove was aware of your repugnance to
plead for her, why did she insist upon such
self-denial V

'* She did not any longer than she be-
lieved circumstances required, as this letter
which you have heard, proves, even then
she must have perceived that some risk was
incurred by releasing me from my engage-
ment."

" And we are to suppose her sincere
then, in those expressions of gratitude for
your services, with which the note abounds."

" The note is from the fatlicr^ Mr.
Newlove, not the daughter ; yet it may be
she concurred in it. To vindicate the sin-
cerity of the writer whoever it was, I may
say, what, otherwise, I could not say with-
out an appearance of vanity, that the New-
loves have done me the honor to entertain
such an opinion of my professional capacity
that they must have been indisposed to re-
linquish my aid until the case was finally
decided, unless they had yielded to motives
entirely disinterested."

" That is in plain English," said How-
ard, " they let you off when they thought
they could get along just as well without

you, calculating that they would be able
to take you up again at any subsequent
time, if it should be deemed advisable."

" Not so," replied Somers hastily,
" they relinquish all claim, absolutely and
unconditionally. With great disinterested-
ness they have chosen to place me in the
same position as if I had never been re-
tained by them, and, of course, I would
not, knowingly, engage against Mr. Ever-
lyn.^"

"We are at the house door, I see," said
Sidney, " let us not talk any longer of the
past. I am glad at all events that you are
now free, Mr. Somers, and feel yourself
under no necessity, real or imagined, to set
about tearing down the good old bricks
which have a mind to enjoy the fresh air
of the Highlands here for this many a day.
Do not be angry if they seemed to frown
on you before. You know it would be a
very serious thing for them to start on
another journey in their old age."

Somers smiled as he answered, " I fear I
am made of too stubborn stuif to be greatly
moved by all the wrath of these very re-
spectable walls ; that is, so long as their
inmates do not take up the quarrel."

" Be not over bold, sir," rejoined the
young lady, "some of the bricks may hear
your vaunt, and tumble down, to deal
heavy punishment on such presumption."

" Gramercy for the caution," said the
lawyer, looking upward as he passed under
the arch of the portico, " I do not covet
the fate of Abimelech."

CHAPTER XL

There arc many in Redland County
who must have a sorrowful remembrance
of the feeling that prevailed throughout a
portion of the community, at the time
which this narrative has now reached.
May no circumstances arise to provoke the
repetition of those scenes ! That the com-
motion which raged was preceded by
causes very unworthy of such a conse-
quence, all reasonable men will agree ; but
with regard to the influence which this

truth ought to have on our anticipations of
the future, opinions will naturally vary, ac-
cording to temperament. The melancholy
will say that there is far less danger in the
paroxysm which we can trace to its origin,
than is that, which, by seeming to arise
spontaneously, mocks all preventive skill.
Yet, is not the philosophy of the cheerful
spirit better .'' When we see a violent out-
burst of passion subside the instant it is
recognized to be causeless, instead of giving

506

Evcrstone.

[May,

ground for further apprehension, does it
not rather warrant us in expecting a long
continuance of the succeeding cahu ? Ele-
ments of danger lurk everywhere, and there
is room for congratulation when a society
— great or small — deprived of all ordinary
restraints, has been exposed to the power
of every evil principle it contained, and has
passed through that fearful ordeal un-
harmed.

It could not be, that no jealousy should
exist between races thrown in contrast
under such circumstances as those of the
Northerners and Southerners in Redland.
Both parties, viewing their situation through
the distorting medium of prejudice, could
perceive only a single alternative. One,
it was thought, must prevail, and the other
be subdued ; one must possess the land,
and the other be driven into exile. The new
settlers, coming with habits which had ma-
tured and hardened under a different clime,
trained from infancy, to struggle against
nature, and gain the vantage, entered upon
a fresh contest with the steadiness and
straight forward audacity of veterans. The
native born inhabitants, on the other hand,
conscious of superiority in some of the
noblest traits of the human character,
could not bear to contemplate the necessity
of giving way to persons who came, not as
strangers, to ask hospitality, but as invad-
ers to demand their submission. " If these
men," said they, " manifest so insolent a
temper now, what must we expect here-
after } If the green tree be thus, how
much worse must prove the dry .?"

Time will show, that these hopes, and
these fears, were equally unreasonable. If
the new race brought a spirit of energy
which was destined to have its course, the
old was far too stout and worthy to be
either exterminated or cowed. It was no
onset of Goth or Lombard, nor of civilized
man and savage. Fortunately for the beau-
tiful land which the Disposer of Nations
assigned to them, both rivals are to disap-
pear, and another is to stand up in their
room ; a race combining the best qualities
of both, and superior to either. Perhaps,
the Northerner, elated by past achievements
may look forward to such a prospect with
little satisfaction ; and the Southerner, it is
probable, relishes it no better. The latter,
standing, as he does, on a soil appropriated
by long possession, we may admit to be not

altogether without justification in his dis-
content. He feels an honest pride in his
generosity, his high-spirit, and his conser-
vative integrity ; yet, should he reflect that
these qualities need suffer no injury from an
union with the puritan virtues, — thrift, en-
terprise and patient industry.

It is fair to believe that even in the ex-
citing time of the spring of 183-, the char-
acteristic moderation and justice of the old
inhabitants of Redland, would not have
been overcome, had not the indiscreet pro-
vocation offered by a few thoughtless
Northerners, been exaggerated and em-
bittered through the arts of selfish indi-
viduals like John Astiville. So skilfully
had this bad rich man labored at his plot,
during the winter, that, no sooner was the
announcement made of a forgery committed
by Miss Newlove, than the body of the
the community hitherto restrained, princi-
pally by her mild and blameless character,
began to raise the cry of " down with the
Yankees." Even men of intelligence and
education — persons, who were previously
remarkable for inoffensiveness and good-
temper — now thought it no sin to indulge
in cordial detestation of a class, who, not
content with shocking their strongest pre-
possessions, endeavored to wrest their pro-
perty from them, by unscrupulous villany.
If Emma Newlove, who appeared a very
saint, had proved capable of such conduct,
what redeeming traits could they expect
to find in her rough and disgusting asso-
ciates }

The mine was opened and charged, and
only a little thing was wanting, to bring on
the explosion. Mr. Newlove had a con-
siderable flock of fine sheep, which he had
imported from New York. Absalom
Handsucker found one of them in the field,
dead, and partly consumed by the buzzards.

" What, think you, could have been the
matter with it.?" inquired the owner.

" Don't know sir. Perhaps a dog took
the first mouthful out of it — I saw Mr.
Evcrlyn's pointer running across the field
the other day."

" But is it probable Absalom .? might
not the sheep have died from some other
cause .?"

" Well it might — that's a fact," returned
the overseer.

" Then," said the placable Mr. New-
love, " we'll say no more about it. There'll

1850.]

Everstone.

507

be tima enough to complain to the neigh-
bors when other sheep are lost."

The next day Absalom met Caleb
Schrowder, and, among other items of in-
formation communicated in the course of
the sociable dialogue, the loss of the sheep
was mentioned, and conjectures were in-
terchanged as to the cause of its death.
Schrowder went home very uneasy. He
had himself some sheep. Not many to be
sure, but what of that .'' The loss of one
or two out of the number, would only be
the greater proportionate damage. It was
certain that dogs were quite too numerous
in the neighborhood. The deduction was
easily drawn — Bishop Whately himself
could not have found flxult with the syllo-
gism— that a diminution of the number
would be a pubhc blessing. And why
should not he, Caleb Schrowder, enlight-
ened husbandman, and patriotic citizen,
take part in so good a work } The folly
of the man who locks his stable door after
the horse is stolen, has become a proverb ;
some people with equal stupidity might put
oflF killing dogs till the sheep were gone,
but he knew better.

The design was not more grand than the
execution was simple. There are many in-
genious contrivances in the world, whose
inventors have not obtained the immortality
of fame which they deserve — among them
is "the pen." Let me not be mistaken.
No reference is intended to that triflino-
little implement, cut out of a goose quiU,
and whose utmost capability only extends
to overturning thrones and setting brains
on fire, but that other thing which country
folks know better how to use. In days of
old, the steel-pen, or stylus, was found
quite valuable in shortening human life,
but how much higher and more Malthusian
the excellence of that ^^700(Zere-pen which
keeps in check canine prolificness ! No
model of this wonderful aifair is to be found
in the patent office, and there may be per-
sons so grossly ignorant as not to under-
stand the method of its construction. A
few words of description may be given for
the benefit of sucli untravelled citizens.
The determined dog- hater takes about fifty
large rails,* and builds therewith a quad-

* An American word, signifying rough pieces
of timber, (ten or twelve feet in length,) split from
the chestnut or other trees. — Webster's Die.

VOL. V. NO. v. NEW SERIES.

rangular enclosure, being careful that each
course of rails, as it is laid, forms a square
somewhat smaller than that below it. The
result is, that the pen which is ten feet
square at bottom, gradually contracts till
the aperture at the top is left not more
than a yard or two in width.

Caleb Schrowder, after enjoying a com-
placent gaze rrt his handiwork, bethought
himself to take his wagon and drive over
to neighbor Newlove's. When he got
there, he preferred a request to be allowed
to carry away the carcass of the dead
sheep.

" Certainly. You may have it and wel-
come. I was going to have it buried, lest
the dogs, drawn to the field by the scent,
should take to worrying the flock. But
what use can you make of it, Mr.
Schrowder .'■"

Our friend, without vouchsafing any
answer but a smile and a mysterious wink,
proceeded to take possession of the coveted
sheep. It gave him agreeable surprise to
find that the wool had not been plucked,
and no sooner had he got the carcass safe
home than he set himself, undeterred by
its loathsome condition, about the task of
robbing it of all that remained of the once
ample fleece. He doubted whether he
ought not to secure the tallow also, as
sheep at the South are always fat, but con-
cluding that it was "hardly worth while,"
he placed the well-picked body, without
more ado, inside of his rail pen. Then he
turned himself calmly to other business.

That night, instead of going to bed, ac-
cording to custom, immediately after sup-
per, he sat up very wakeful indeed. About
nine o'clock, he heard a barking, and sub-
sequently a loud prolonged whine. With
joyful alacrity he sprang to his feet, seized
a^ loaded gun, and hurried to the trap.
There he found a dog imprisoned securely
enough. The hapless animal, drawn by
the scent of the carrion, had easily run up
the sloping side of the pen, and leaped
down to the feast. When he thought of
retiring., however, it became apparent that
the peculiar construction of the edifice,
which had so much facilitated his entrance,
made his exit an impossibility. In fact he
was placed in a situation very unpleasantly
similar to that of the rat which, after hav-
ing without difficulty squeezed through the
cozy little wire tunnel of a trap from the
33

508

Everstone.

[May,

outer and wider end, finds that he cannot
get back thougli he attempt it at the risk
of being impaled on the sharp points that
bristle around the opening. The dog, re-
cognizing the approach of a human form,
wags his tail, and peeps imploringly
through the bars of his prison. But Caleb
Schrowder's heart had at that moment no
room for pity. He even mocks the un-
fortunate captive.

" Ho ! ho ! you beauty. So you want
to get out and play with my sheep ! Why
don't you go, then .'' Make a good jump
and be off ! He's a snug fellow, too, that's
a fact — most as big as my Carlo. But,
fine and nice as he is, he must make up
his mind to die."

The muzzle of the gun was thrust be-
tween the rails ; then followed a loud re-
port and with it a piteous howl. A few
seconds after there was a dead silence.
Schrowder climbed over to examine the
prey. " What's this .'"' he exclaimed sud-
denly, as he turned over the body of the
dog. " A collar and piece of chain — hang-
ed if it isn't ! But bless my life if here
aint too the very identical strop I put on
Carlo this evening ! There's the holes —
le' me see — one, two, three, four. I won-
der if I can find the wooden key — yes,
here it is — and Jiaveri't I made a reg'lar
nice job of it } This is Carlo sure as preach-
in' !"

The only effect produced upon Schrow-
der by his mistake, was to make him pur-
sue animals of the dog kind with a tenfold
more vindictive hate. Night after night
he willingly lost his rest to make frequent
visits to the pen, while he devoted the
earliest hour of morning to the burial of the
gory dead. At length, emboldened by im-
punity in slaughter, he kept his trap set by
day also, and scrupled not, when opportu-
nity ofi'ered, to expend his powder and
shot as freely in broad sunlight as if dark-
ness enveloped the slayer and the slain.
The traveller who passed along the thicket
behind which the fatal pen was concealed,
closed mouth and nostril, wondering whether
all the ailing beasts of the neighborhood
used to come there to die. If, perchance,
a favorite spaniel trotted at the horse's heels
he would stop on snuffing the grateful odor,
and leaping the fence would run to subject
the savory repast to the test of tooth. The
unaccountable mortality that was sweeping

oif the dogs began to excite remark. One
man had it to deckre that six of his hounds
had disappeared in a single night, others
who had suffered smaller losses were dispos-
ed to make an equal outcry.

Ripley Dair owned a dog, a sagacious
and handsome fellow, who was valued by
his master higher than the best hundred
acres the county could show ; and Dair
had cause to admire and cherish him, for
that faithful brute had saved the life of his
only daughter. The little girl, also, loved
the dog, and wanted no other protector nor
companion as she rode daily to school.
This dog shared the fate of others who had
experienced Schrowder's tender mercies.
Ripley Dair made searching inquiries, and
soon learned enough to satisfy him that the
responsibility lay amongst the New York
settlers on the Hardwater. He sought not
more particular information. He would
as soon have made distinction in a nest of
rattlesnakes as have wasted time in nicely
measuring the proportion of detestation se-
verally merited by a Dubosk, a Newlove,
or a Schrowder. His rage was thorough-
ly aroused, and he determined that the
whole brood should feel it.

When there was such a spirit as ' Game
Cock Rip' to lead the way, it was not hard
to find followers. Hundreds joined in
wishing discomfiture and expulsion to the
Yankees. It was dangerous for a popula-
tion like that, to be in such a mood. . The
instant they ceased to feel a restraining
sense of justice, there was no power which
could control them.

That a storm was about to burst was
now evident to the dullest apprehensions
Schrowder experienced no little trepida-
tion when he became aware of the position
into which his follies had drawn him. It
was curious to observe the change in his
demeanor. Not a word dared he now
breathe to the disparagement of Southern-
ers or of any of their institutions. On one
occasion indeed when he heard a most con-
temptuous epithet applied to a " complete
built " Northern plough which had been
left for exhibition at Munny's store, his
lips were observed to move convulsively,
and the practised eye of a deaf-mute might
perhaps, have read the indignant response,
but no ear was so finely strung as to detect
an articulate sound. In the same degree
that he learned to cringe to those whom he

1850.]

Everstone.

509

had formerly despised, did he become in-
solent and reproachful towards his asso-
ciates. He railed bitterly against Miss
Newlove.

"But for that piece of handwriting,"
he said, " which she writ and wanted to
make pass for something prettier than it
was, we shouldn't a been in this teetery
fix. I don't like these smart gals, they are
always takin' the wrong ox by the horns.
It's a confounded shame that with those
slim potato-sprout fingers of her'n she should
be able to pull down the barn on the
whole lot of us ! I wish a hog had snapped
'em off afore the school-mister showed her
how to write other people's names !"

But what were poor Emma's own feel-
ings } How could that timid and sensitive
girl who had always shrunk, even from the
indulgent observation of friends, endure
the consciousness that she had become
the object of universal scorn and abhor-
rence ? If she herself had been told a
month before what a trial awaited her, she
could not have believed herself capable of
surviving it. But there were latent powers
in her nature, which would never have
been recognised, had not the occasion
arisen which demanded their exertion. It
is a cause for gratitude that Providence, all
of whose dispensations are merciful, often-
times keeps us in ignorance of some of the
strength which is bestowed, lest the know-
ledge of the gift should only prove a con-
tinual torture by reminding us of future
pain airainst which that strenfrth is destined
to support us.

Emma, frail and delicate though she
was, did not sink beneath her burden.
Even the subdued murmur which foil with
fearful distinctness upon her ears, and gave
warning that personal danger approached,
might startle, but could not appal. The
blood which left her cheek only retired,
like a courageous garrison, to the citadel,
to strengthen and animate her heart. Her
father implored her to abandon Redland
and return to the northern home, whose
shelter his persuasions had so unfortunately
induced her to leave. " How much
better," he exclaimed, "even to lose aU
that we have invested here, than to endure
one moment longer this horrid suspense !
Great as this loss is, it will not leave you
poor. Enough will remain for our support

and a little, moreover, for charity. Let us
go then at once."

"Do not talk of it, dear father.
Would you really have me fly to New
York like a felon, and crouching under the
brand of dishonor ? Could you bear to be
pointed at as the parent of a self-convicted
forger?"

"But Emma, Emma, our enemies are
too strong for us. By remaining we only
put ourselves more and more in their
power. Do you know that they even
threaten an indictment 1 Think of being
arraicrned as a criminal, of beino; drawled
mto Court, of bemg exposed to public gaze
and finally of being tried by a jury selected
out of the creatures of John Astiville !"

Emma trembled, but her fortitude did
not desert her. " I will do and suffer any-
thing," she said, "rather than seem to ac-
knowledge by my conduct, the justice of
this foul accusation. There is law even
here, I trust, to distinguish innocence from
guilt?"

" Yet." replied the father, " what matters
law or innocence, if you have no advocate ?
Somers, it is clear, has taken us at our
word, and seems resolved to shun us hence-
forward as if we had the plague, and I
don't wonder at it. He sees that he can-
not be our friend without incurring the
hatred of everybody else. It is very na-
tural that he should seize the first decent
opportunity to get rid of us ?"

" Perhaps it is natural," said Emma
with an involuntary sigh, " Yet, I confess,
I did not quite expect that Mr. Somers
would leave us without a single word of
farewell. It might become others to act
so, but I thought him more kind and
liberal. I woidd not ask him to return to
his engagement — we have no right to ask
him — if he would but show a little sym-
pathy, I should be content. He cannot but
know how desolate we are ; he sees that all
the world contemn and hate us, and his
heart shoidd teU him how precious in such
circumstances is the sight of a friend."

" Friend, Emma ? How you talk. Mr.
Somers was but our lawyer.''^

" And was he then nothmg more ?" she
murmured sadly.

"Well, so let it be," she added, reco-
vering her self-possession, " let him for-
sake us if he wUl ; let him find happiness

510

Everstone*

[May,

while we are overwhelmed with distress.
I will not be sorry that he owes his escape
to our free act. If he has now become
cold and thankless, we should remember
that he once made a sacrifice in our be-
half."

" Whom will you take in his place,"
said Mr. Newlove. — " Mallefax .?"
"No. Never."

" Then, Emma, be advised by me and
go back to New York."

" No, father— not till I stand free from
reproach in the eyes of all. Mr. Somers
though he now avoid us as polluted, shall
learn to recognise us as pure and clear of
blame. He may think us crushed and
helpless, he shall see that we can arise
from the dust without his aid."

Emma Newlove, thus distinctly aware of
her situation, and too well acquainted with
the character of her father to expect the
least support from him, sought no other
counsellor than her own resolute will.
Hearing of the complaints of Schrowder,
who, in truth, felt no delicate scruples
about uttering his mind in her very pre-
sence, she invited huu and Ralph Dubosk
to call on her together, at her father's
house. They came punctually ; and she
addressed the former thus :

" Mr. Schrowder, I am informed that
you are dissatisfied with your present farm,
what do you value it at .?"

" Well," he replied, " You know it cost
eight dollars an acre and I've put five hun-
dred dollars' improvement on it. Still its
vally has dropped considerable seuce I
bought it. Nobody would be anxious to
take it after these law fussifications, especi-
ally that article with relation to the survey
which folks are very bold to call forged.
Of course 1 don't wish to give in that
argument exactly, as you are from the
North, and never before behaved anyways
tmbecomin' that I h'ard of — though I won't

make out but what Vmjuhious "

" You need not say anything more
about that just now, Mr. Schrowder, — you
have a thousand acres for which you paid
eight thousand dollars. Now, if you are
disposed to sell, I will take the tract off
your hands, and give you nine thousand."
" The mischief you say } What's put
you up to this so sudden } May be the
title's all built up square at last — eh .''
— IB that it now.-^"

" No sir. I have learnt nothing new
respecting the title. The motive of my
offer is simply this : it seems to be sup-
posed that a paper which I was instrumen-
tal in having introduced as evidence, ha3
had an injurious effect upon the cause.
Now, I am unwilling that any one should
suffer by my error, if you will sell your
land I wUl buy it."

" Sure now ! — that's queer — dog my
cats if it aint ! But if you choose to take
wild notions, I might as well profit by 'em
as any body else. So here's my hand, and
it's a bargain."

Miss Newlove turned to the sturdy form
of Ralph Dubosk, and said, " You also,
sir, have a thousand acres, for which I am
ready to give the same sum that I have
offered Mr. Schrowder — will you take it."
" No — not I !" replied Dubosk emphat-
ically, "If any body else was to say he'd
give me nine thousand dollars for the lot
I don't deny I'd jump at it very quick, but
I wont from yozc. People may wear their
throats out in talking of forgery and all
that nonsense, I don't believe a word of it.
Accidents may happen in the best of fami-
lies, and so its like enough some mistake
has been made, but as to anything worse
being done — by you^ Miss Emma, at any
rate — I'll maintain, in the biggest man's
face that it's an out and out lie.''''

" I thank you Mr. Dubosk. I am glad
there is one person who does not think I
deserve a cell in the penitentiary. Still
sir, do not hesitate to accept my offer if you
believe it for your advantage. I am quite
willing to assume all the risk of the suit."
" I don't care if you are ever so willing,"
answered the farmer, " It takes two to
make a bargain and I sh'ntbe one of them.
Ralph Dubosk is no very great shakes to
be sure, but he'll never be the person to
back out and leave the whole scrape on his
partner. Whether the suit is to be lost or
won, I'm in for it along with you."

" But you ought to consider, Ralph,"
remarked Schrowder, " that you can't
stand the losing part of the business, alto-
gether so well as the Madam here."

"That may be," replied Dubosk, "I
know this piece of land is about all I'm
worth in the world — but what then .? If I
lose it, I can start again, just as I did when
the old man turned me adrift at the first,
with only eight shillings in my pocket. The

1850.]

Everst07ie.

511

world owes me a living, and I'll find away
to get it, you inay depend. Humph. ! what
if Miss Emma be rich — is that a reason
why I should hang back like a balky horse ?
If a man's scarce of money he ought to
make it up in spunk."

" You will not let me buy you out then V
said Miss Newlove.

"By no means — I have a particular
reason for hanging on to my part of the
land. It's pretty nearly the exact piece
that old Astiville lays claim to for his own.
I have a much lower opinion of him than
of Mr. Everlyn, and want no better fun
than to have him waste his curses on me.''

" You may choose what kind of sport
you please Ralph," said Schrowder, " but
for my part I'm wUling to leave you alone
in your glory, as the Scriptur' says. When
will you be ready to fork over, Miss, and
give me the dockyments to sign V

" Very soon, sir, — I will send you notice
at the day."

Dubosk and Schrowder now withdrew,
each being highly pleased with himself and
each entertaining a thorough contempt for
his companion. Which of the pair had
best right to his complacency, the reader
is at liberty to pronounce according to his
own disposition.

Though Emma would have blushed to
own it, there was no other circumstance
which gave her so much pain as the deter-
mined silence of Somers. Her admiration
of the lawyer had led her unconsciously to
regard him with a warmer feeling. Love
in a nature like hers, wears so equivocal a
guise, that it is not surprising that both she
herself and Somers should be unaware of
its existence. We see nothing of that
strong and vehement passion which sub-
jects the whole soul to its imperious sway.
The habitual gentleness of manner which
flows from a kind and sympathising heart,
becomes the expression of a tenderer sen-
timent, but so gradual is the transforma-
tion that we mark not one of its stacfes.

Charity, that spiritual and heavenly maid-
en, has given place to animate and glowing
Love ; yet so fiiir was the first vision that
our eyes will not believe that it has faded
away, and mistake the sisterly likeness of
the substitute for identity.

It was Emma's principle, as it was her
temper, to look upon the whole world with
kindness, and she thought it no harm that
Richard Somers was included within the
comprehensive circle of her afiection. She
knew or conjectured that Somers' heart
was engaged by Miss Everlyn. It is au
axiom in sentimental metaphysics that love
is always jealous ; yet Emma was not jea-
lous. If any one takes upon him to infer
from thence that she was not in love, it is
insisted he straightway may devise a new
term to denote her attachment. It may be
rare to see an union of selfishness and sim-
plicity ; such a rare and nondescript crea-
ture was Emma Newlove. She wished
all persons to be happy — Sidney Everlyn
among them ; and if that young lady's
happiness depended on an indissoluble con-
nection with Somers, she hoped sincerely
that no obstacle would occur to prevent the
wedding. Nothing, however, is more
tiresome than to plod through the details
of an analysis ; let us jump at a venture to
the conclusion. We know that the pas-
sion. Love, does not exist in Heaven, while
it is a very prevalent disease on earth ;
Emma, in consideration of possessing one
or two of the qualities of an angel, could
not indeed expect entire exemption from
this, or any other, condition of moitality ;
yet she was favored with the privilege of
taking the universal distemper in the mild-
est form.

It was necessary to have a deed drawn
for the conveyance of Schrowder's land.
Emma saw no impropriety in applying for
this purpose to Somers, as he might easily
perform so simple and silent an act of busi-
ness, without involving himself in the suit.
A note was accordingly written.

(To be continued. J

512

Cuba.

[May,

CUBA.*

A BOOK professing, like that before us,
to give authentic details of Cuba, the
queen of the American islands, can scarcely
fail to awaken the curiosity of the reading
public.

Making little pretension as a literary
work, it is rather a representation of al-
leged facts ; and invites an abstract more
than a criticism.

To the mercantile, the agricultural, and
the manufacturing classes, to the philoso-
pher, the politician, and the philanthropist,
the subject opens matter of deep interest ;
and fully impressed with its importance as
the author appears to be, he is likely to
acquit himself satisfactorily.

The main object of the volume is to
show the political expediency of the an-
nexation of Cuba to the United States.
To this end, after deducing, from a variety
of facts, the probability of the Spanish yoke
being speedily thrown off, the author goes
on to show how, in that event, Cuba must
either remain independent, come un-der the
protection of England, or join herself to
the United States. The first he sets aside
as being evidently less advantageous to the
Cubans than either of the others ; and by
her geographical relations, he shows the
value of a connexion with her to either
England or the United States ; and espe-
cially to us, as a point of defence in war,
and a source of wealth in peace. He rep-
resents the impossibility of our permitting
England to " erect a Gibraltar at the por-
tals of the American sea ;" and lastly, ad-
mitting the unlawfulness of interference
between Spain and her colony, suggests, as
a method satisfactory to all parties, the
purchase of the island by the United
States.

The various arguments of our author
tending to this central point, are brought
from a circle of interesting, political, social,
and domestic narrations, happily illustra-
ting the position, feelings, resources, and
prospects of the Cubans. It is these illus-
trations, apart from political question,
which chiefly furnish material for our
present article.

The position alone of Cuba, renders her,
under any circumstances, an object of in-
terest. Whether we look back over three
centuries, to when Columbus first beheld
her beautiful shores, and the lofty sum-
mits of Portobello and Cobre, rising, like
beacons of safety and promise through the
dreary uncertainties before him ; or view
her as she stands now, clothed with increas-
ed importance as the acknowledged " Bul-
wark of the Mexican Gulf," — the sentinel
of the American sea, — commanding, in the
hands of whosoever may possess her, " the
great highway to Mexico and South Amer-
ica, to Oregon, California, and the Pacific."
Whether we bring to our imaginations the
gentle and generous aborigines, whose hos-
pitable courtesies welcomed the adventurous
stranger to their shores, or mark where
luxury, vice, and oppression walk, hand in
hand, over the birth-right of the timorous
Creole, there is always something to excite
curiosity and command attention ; and as
we pm'sue the minute details of our author
we scarce know whether most to admire
the beauty of the fair " queen of the An-
tilles," or to lament the degradation of her
fetters.

With the first culture of sugar and to-
bacco in the island, the indolent aborigines
being incapable of the labor, slavery was
almost simultaneously introduced. Many

*Cuha and the Cubans. Comprising a History of the Island of Cuba. By the Author of" Letters
FROM Cuba." With an Appendix containing Important Statistics. New York: Samuel Hueston,

139 Nassua St. George P. Putnam, 155 Broadway. 1850.

1850.]

Cuba.

513

of the Spanish inhabitants of Jamaica re-
moved, after its conquest by the English,
to Cuba. An attempt was made on Ha-
vana about the same time ; which, say the
Spanish authorities, failed on account of a
miracle performed in their favor by the
land crabs and fire flies, the noise and light
of which, mistaken for an enemy in ambus-
cade, caused the English to retreat with
disorderly haste to their ships. The in-
vasion of 1762 was more successful ; and
the island was conquered, but restored to
Spain by the treaty of peace ; which re-
storation is said to be regarded by the na-
tive writers as the true era whence the ag-
grandisement and prosperity of Cuba is to
be dated. The captains-general who suc-
ceeded each other, at intervals of four
years, during the thirty which followed
this period, were men of energy and judg-
ment ; and the administration of Don
Louis de las Casas, the founder of the
" Patriotic Society," is represented as a
brilliant epoch in the history of the island.

The French revolution produced commo-
tions, rendering the office of captain-gene-
ral every year of greater responsibility. As
the need of talent, honor, discretion, and hu-
manity increased, the more difficult it be-
came to find officers of superior worth.
To such the office grew repugnant. The
political changes made by the Spanish
Government, and the jealous policy which
came to dictate their despotic measures,
caused it to fall, at length, into most inca-
pable and polluted hands.

There was not, until the last twenty
years, any serious precedent, or open
effiDrt, to justify a diiference between the
political rights of Cubans, and of Spaniards
on the soil of Cuba. At the commence-
ment of the nineteenth century the govern-
ment of Spain over Cuba was liberal, and
the Cubans, in return, were loyal ; but
the changes adopted in the mother coun-
try affi^cted similarly her colony ; and the
sudden passage from an absolute to a re-
publican government, producing infidelity,
served onlj'- to tear the veil of decency from
the debased and corrupt state of so-
ciety.

In 1820, a period of peculiar difficulty
from the events which took place on the
Peninsula, the office of Captain General
was held by Cagigal, a man of great pru-
dence and delicacy, whose aftability of

manners conciliated all parties, and caused
him to be held in high estimation.

In 1823 the command was held by Gen-
eral Vivos, afterwards raised to the dignity
of Conde de Cuba, under whose auspices
the temple was erected, on the Plaza des
Armes of the Havana, on the very spot
where, according to tradition, the first chris-
tian rite was performed in the New World.
The temple is now opened only once a
year, — on the anniversary of the day that
uiass was first said there in the presence of
Columbus .

General Vivos, after the restoration of
Ferdinand, desirous of impressing the con-
stitutional party with the idea that they
might be carried farther than they meant
to go, made it appear that a plan had been
devised for throwing off" the Spanish yoke.
The royal order of 1825, investing the
Captain General, with the whole extent of
power granted to the governors of besieged
towns, brought upon the island all its sub-
sequent misfortunes. At that time the
country was in its most flourishing and
healthy period ; and rapid, indeed, must
have been the encroachment of despotism
to bring it to the present state, as repre-
sented by our author.

After Vivos the notorious Tacon came
into office, and set the example of that
mean and tyrannical administration, so
closely followed by the unprincipled O'Don-
nell and others ; and which, more than any
other, promoted and aided the abuses
that brought the island to its present con-
dition.

Geronimo Valdez forms a noble excep-
tion. " Valdez had the courage and hon-
esty to issue, during his short command,
upwards of a thousand grants of freedom,
illegally withheld by his predecessors, from
so many Africans, who, according to the
treaty, had become free. He left the
palace of the Captains General of Cuba in
the same high-minded poverty in which he
had entered it."

It was through the influence of Tacon,
whose noblest exploits were to expatriate,
vex, and imprison the citizens, that the
Spanish Cortez, in 1836, shut their doors,
for the first time, against American repre-
sentatives ; the deputies of the island being

obliged to return to Madrid without the

- -I - .

privilege of uttermg then* grievances.

" And this," says our author, " was the

514

Cuba.

[May,

single, but serious act of usurpation, which
robbed the descendants of the island's con-
querors of all interference in its adminis-
tration and tributary system."

During, and since the time of Tacon,
the seisure and immediate deportation of
persons of respectability and distinction,
have been of common occurrence, without
a hearing of the party accused, and with-
out any opportunity of defence being grant-
ed,— and this for the slightest possible
causes of offence ; often without any
cause whatever.

" Within a period of little more than
eighteen months about 200 persons were
deported, and about 700 banished for life,
from the island, by Tacon," while in the
dungeons were lodged nearly 600 per-
sons, the cause of whose detention nobody
knew !

Through the agency of the intendant.
Count de Villanueva, Tacon was finally
removed ; but Villanueva's ambition pro-
cured an addenda, by which the rights of
the Cubans were sacrificed, it being agreed
that no political assembly, or any rights
■whatever, should be allowed them. This
discreditable compromise, we are told, was
the undoubted origin of the immediate discon-
tent and subsequent rapid adoption of the
principle of annexation through the island.
It is, doubtless, a difficult task to man-
ajre, under any circumstances, a slave
country. In the case of Cuba it was espe-
cially so. Individuals, recently arrived
from Spain, could neither perceive nor un-
derstand the characters and feelings of the
blacks, and were, consequently, unable to
comprehend, or believe, in the probability
of the coming storm, which judicious plan-
ters had so long foreseen.

A most '' ominous policy," inasmuch
as it fostered the dissatisfaction of the
blacks, was that which consisted in placing
the lives and property of the inhabitants of
Cuba in such danger, as to choke any re-
sentment respecting the political changes
adopted by the Spanish Govei-nment for
the exclusive benefit of the metropolitan
community.

By degrees the bonds between master
and slave were severed, and " not the
slightest attempt at moral reform softened
the harsh features and discordant views of
the subjected, or of the dominant race."
It is related that, subsequently to the

last bloody insurrection of November, 1843,
particulars of a plan of devastation and
bloodshed were accidentally learned ; one
of the immediate results of which was a
meeting of the planters, called in the city of
Matanzas ; wherein a committee was named
to propose a report, which report not being
favorable to the views of government, the
planters were not allowed to meet again, and
the military government went through those
difficult circumstances, guided by its own in-
competent intelligence, or by the suggestions
of the ignorant. Supposing that the con-
spiracy formed by the blacks comprehend-
ed every individual of that class, those who
would, or could reveal nothing were mark-
ed as most ciiminal ; and the same means
were authorized to be employed with the
free^ colored population :

" The officers, thus raised by a power above
the laws, and above the dominical right of the
owners of slaves, with a very few exceptions,
exercised their authority in a manner the most
sordid, brutal, and sanguinary."

]\Iany of the cruelties practised upon the
unfortunate Cubans by these officers who
were, says our author, " at once attorney,
judges, and executioners," are of too re-
volting a character to be dwelt upon , some
few, however, not among the most sangui-
nary, may be f^uoted as illustrative of their
power and the helplessness of their victims.

Under the indictments of Don Juan
Costa, ninety- sis died beneath the lash, of
whom forty-two were freemen and fifty-
four were slaves.

At a place called Soto Farm, several
freemen were butchered and their deaths
represented by certificates from physicians
as having been caused by diarrhoea.

Affidavits vi^ere extorted from negroes
criminating their masters, one of whom ap-
prised by his fco??ow2eor administiator, that
he was a lost man, but that the fiscal would
save him provided he paid two hundred
ounces of gold.

Don Leon Duhaides, when any of those for
whom he demanded punishment were freed
by the council, was in the habit while the
sentence was being read, of extorting mo-
ney from such as were saved from death :

" Don Jose del Peso punished a negro one
hundred and ten years old, who died at the
Matanzas Jail. Don Francisco Illas, the en-
lightened and humane fiscal otficer^ who ap-

1850.]

Cuba.

515

pears among those of his class as if to redeem
tiie Spanish name from the dark stain brouorht
upon it by his associate, was called to certify
to the death of this old man ; but he drew back
horror-struck from the spot when he beheld a
man so worn by age, having his body cut into
pieces by the pitiless lash. The unfortunate
victim had complained of the fiscal Peso, ac-
cusing him of stealing from him forty-five
dollars. Del Peso, after inflicting severe
punishment^ found sport in hanging the accus-
ed victims on a tree, and then cutting the ropes
to see them fall to the ground in bunches. He
had been a journeyman tailor at Havana."

Three honorable exceptions alone, Men-
doza, Arango, and Illas, are made to the
set of miscreants, whose enormities disfig-
ure this page of history.

In order to afford a right estimate of the
trust placed in the hands of th^se agents
of milUary justice, our author thus states
the nature of their duties :

^' They had separately the jurisdiction of a
tribunal, with power to imprison and call be-
fore them whomsoever they would interrogate.
The testimony which they obtained was re-
ceived privately, no one being present except
the fiscal aiid the witness. The fiscal would
write down and sign the declaration, the blacks
and the majority of witnesses knowing neither
how to read nor write. Not even the notary,
w^ho is required to be present at the affidavits
before the ordinary tribunals, appeared on
these occasions to check the arbitrary, mali-
cious, or blind impressions of the fiscal. Offi-
cers of the army were named to act as counsel
for the individuals indicted, whether colored
or white, free or bondsmen. These counsel-
ors, incapable through lack of talent or learn-
ing, were not allowed to read the proceedings
regarding the persons whom they were to de-
fend. AH the instruction they had must be
derived from a hasty and general abstract of
facts made by the same fiscal, whose last dut}'
was to demand the sentence which, in his op-
inion, should be imposed on the criminal."

With regard to the truth of the conspi-
racy, it is remarked that a general opinion
is fast gaining ground at the present day,
that it never existed. Our author con.siders
it more likely to have been in its infancy,
and that when the avenging storm was
heard from afar it increased the number of
the discontented, who, through despair,
prepared for some last acts of devastation
and blood. He suggests the painful re-
flection that while foreigners after long de-
lay, obtained a hearing of their cases, and

after being paraded through the country,
tied hand and foot on horseback, and kept
in a filthy dungeon, were declared inno-
cent, the white Creoles, who had been im-
prisoned with equal injustice, remained still
incarcerated, and their cases undecided, be-
cause they had no consul to claim for them
the rights of civilized man.

After dwelling thus long upon these degra-
dations, we find relief in turning to a chap-
ter containing many charming sketches of
scenery, customs and character.

In quotations from a volume entitled
" Notes on Cuba, hij a Phijsician^'''' the
beauty and fertility of the island are en-
thusiastically enlarged upon ; — its well
stocked farms and luxurious plantations,
its fields of plaintains, its palms, sugar canes,
almond and orange groves, and its moun-
tains crowned with luxuriant growth. The
Ceiba and the Jaguey, the latter adopted
by the poets of Cuba as the emblem of in-
gratitude, are picturesquely described :

" Soon after entering a coffee estate, I passed
by one of those giants of a tropical forest,
a powerful ceiba, with its large, tall trunk
fixed to the soil by huge braces projecting from
it in different directions, and rising branchless
and erect sixty feet, where it threw out im-
mense horizontal arms of massive timber. The
extremities of these only were subdivided into
branches and twigs, which covered by foliage,
formed an umbrella-shaped canopy over the
whole. But although themselves free from
leaves, these stout arms supported on their
broads urfaces a luxuriant garden of air-plants.
There were the wild-pines in close set hedges,
with gutter-shaped leaves andcup-like cavities
filled with the condensed dews of night, serving
as cisterns for the winged tribes during the
long drought of winter. Other species in
branches of strings hung pendent or in fan-
like shapes spread close to their foster-parent ;
while some, as the night-blooming ceres, with
hairy coats, like long creeping insects, clung
to the sides and undersurfacesof the branches,
or wound around the trunk itself. Nor was
this garden devoid of beauty. A partial
glimpse could here and there be had of flowers
of the brightest scarlet, of the richest brown,
and of a delicate pink, exciting vain longings
in the beholder to explore their aerial beds.
Not far from this tree was another as large,
inclosed in the deadly embraces of the jaguey
marcho , it was a mortal struggle for mastery
between the two giants ; but how powerful
soever had been the ceiba, it was evident from
the size of the other, the multiplied folds of its
foster-parent, and its luxuriant branches and
foliage already overtopping it, that the victory

516

Cuba.

[May,

would soon belong to the parasite. Near was
a ja^uey-marcho standing alone ; the death of
its victim had long been etfected ; and it pomp-
ously raised its distorted trunk, and spread its
irregular foliage where once before its noble
looking parent had stood in all its beauty."

]\Iauy other graphic and comic descrip-
tions are given by the same author :

" Slowly promenading under the porches of
the houses, I could not refrain from occasion-
ally peeping into the parlors and chambers as
I passed their large iron-grated windows. But
the inmates were all up, and although now
and then a fair senoia might be seen in disha-
bille, the whole household was generally en-
gaged in the duties of the day, for the Creole is
always an early riser. Several were engaged in
sweeping the pavements ; others were clus-
tered around the milkman's cow, which had
been brought to their doors, and were waiting
their turn to have their pitchers filled from the
slow stream; while a calf tied just without
tasting distance looked piteously on, and at
times showed signs of impatience, as he saw
his morning meal borne oif. When all had
been supplied, he was muzzled, and his hal-
ter tied to the extremity of the cow's tail. One
rush to the bag was tried, but the cruel netting
frustrated all attempts to taste the bland fluid,
and the poor animal quietly followed in the
rear as the man drove his cow to the houses of
his other customers.

"At other doors the malojero was counting
cut his small bundles of green fodder, each
containing a dozen stalks of Indian corn, with
the leaves and tassels attached, the common
daily food of the horse. On their pack-horses
were bundles of small-sized sugar-cane, neatly
trimmed and cut into short pieces, and selected
small on account of their superior richness, of-
fering to the Creole a grateful refreshment dur-
ing the heat of the noon. Others carried
large matted panniers slung over their clumsy
straw saddles, filled with fine ripe oranges, the
favorite and healthy morning rej)astof the na-
tive and the stranger, the well and the invalid.
As the day progressed, mounted monteros
were seen gal]o])ing through the streets, just
arrived from tlieir farms : each with his loose
shirt worn over his pantaloons, its tail flutter-
ing in the breeze, while his long sword, lashed
to his waist by a handkerchief, dangled at his
back. Then there was the heavy cart laden
with sugar, for the railroad depot, drawn by
eight strong oxen, the front pair some twenty
feet in advance of the rest, its freight of boxes
bound down firmly with cords, and covered
with raw hides. By its side the driver stalked,
dressed in a loose shirt and trowsers, which
once may have been white, but now closely
resembled the soil in their hue, and a high-
peaked straw hat, with a wide rim, on his

head. He held in his hand a long pole, armed
with a goad, with which he urged forward his
slow moving team, often striking the sharp
nail at its extremity repeatedly into the flank
of an ox, until the poor animal, in his endeav-
ors to escape, seemed to drag the whole load
by his sole strength.

"The arriero with his pack-horses, eight or
a dozen in number, was also urging them on
by his voice and the occasional crack of his
whip, while they staggered under their heavy
loads of charcoal, kegs of molasses, or aguar-
diente (rum), and the halter of each being tied
to the extremity of the tail of the horse before,
moved in single files, carefully picking their
way. Suddenly one of the hindmost would
stop to survey the path, when there would be
such a general stretching of tails that bid fair
to leave some of them in the state of Tam
0"Shanter's mare after her hard-won race.
The whip of the arriero would, however, soon
remove the difficulty, and the long line would
again move forward."

Of the climate and atmosphere of Cuba,
of the soft cool evening breezes, the deli-
cious fragrance of the early dawn, the
clear ringing of the human voice through
the morning air, it is said no adequate idea
can be given to cue who has never enjoyed
them.

The rainy season is well described :

" For several consecutive days, the whole
panopl}^ of the heavens was, each noon, hid-
den by the heavy masses of clouds rapidly
formed on the horizon, and over head present-
ing in their storm-like appearance a strong
contrast by the clear blue of the noon's un-
clouded sky. About two o'clock began the
gathering to one broad focus : and the black
thunder-cloud, condensing in its frigid bosom
the ascending vapois, and blending with its
own immense mass the smaller ones in its
course, with gathered and still increasing
power, rose majestically against the opposing
verge : its jagged edges apparently resting on
the hills, and its pendent centre threatening
destruction to all beneath. Then came the
deep calm ; and each leaf was motionless,
while the scuds above rushed madly together,
and curled and intermingled as if in fierce
contest. And now the sudden blast burst
through the still air, and the stout tree groaned
and the tender plant lay prostrate beneath its
power. The long pliant leaves of the tall
palm, like streamers, fluttered in the rushing
wind ; the frail plantain's broad tender foliage
was lashed into shreds ; the umbrageous
alleys of mangoes waved their long lines of
dense verdure, and all nature did homage to
the storm-spirit; all but the powerful ceiba,
whose giant trunk bended not, and whose

1850.]

Ciiha.

517

massive arms and close-set foliage defied its
utmost wrath ; amid the turmoil it stood un-
moved, a perfect picture of conscious strength.
But the whole scene was soon hid by the
torrents of rain that fell from the over-
charged clouds. The atmosphere seemed con-
verted into a mass of rushing waters ) and
mingled with its rattling gusts, was the
lengthened crash and reverberating roar of
the more distant thunder and the sharp shot-
like report of that close by; while vivid
streams and broad flashes of lightning played
rapidly through the aqueous shroud. In less
than an hour the storm had passed by, but
fresh masses of clouds ro.se from different
quartens, and their circum.scribed showers
often fell heavily within a few hundred yards,
while near by not a drop descended."

The Creole, or monteros is represented
as a finished orator, graceful in his action
and in his expression, and so animated in
speaking and full of motion, that one igno-
rant of his language could almost guess the
drift of his conversation by his pantomime.
The Clinging deference of the oppressed
Creole to the swaggering Spanish official is
remarkable, and several amusing anecdotes
are given illustrative of it.

The monotonous life of the Cuban ladies
produces nervous disease. Their occupa-
tion consists solely of embroidery and shop-
ping, and their evenings are given to places
of amusement, yet even allowing that there
Ls some truth in the general belief that the
outward decorum of the better and upper
class, is to a great degree merely in appear-
ance, our author professes to have found in
DO part of the world more devoted wives
and mothers than in Cuba. " There are
few indeed," he says, " who would be capa-
ble of teaching their sons to become great
men ; but their deep abiding love, untiring
care and devotion, many ajNorthern mother
who never allows a new publication to es-
cape her, and who laments in elegant En-
glish the ignorance of the Cuban ladies,
may, with advantage to her own nursery,
emulate."

The description of children, — of little
girls of three years old, dressed in the ex-
treme of fashion, " opening and shutting
their fans with perfect incipient coquetry,"
and of " funny little men manufactured at
five or six years, after the toilette of a Par-
isian exquisite" does not strike us with so
much surprise as it might have done some
years ago, before our own streets were

thronged with miniature dandies, gloved
and booted, and equipped with a cane.

All that we hear of gallantry and love in
Cuba, is, according to our author, the for-
mer alone ; the sentiment or holiness,
which should hallow the union of hearts,
being almost unknown. Wives are repre-
sented as deffeneratino: into household
drudges, scolding their servants and pet-
ting their children all day, and sitting at
night in their luxurious butaque, or easy
chair, to play with their fans the use of
which is often the only grace left them.
This account however tallies ill with the
former, and with the general descriptions
of the indolent but elegant Creole lady :

" A Creole girl before marriage is a beauti-
ful object, graceful, gentle, and loving ; but a
Creole woman after forty, is very generally
quite the reverse. The ravages of time are
never concealed; gray hairs are not considered
worth adorning, and old age is made disgust-
ing. Instead of the " nice old ladies" and ele-
gant matrons of our American homes, we too
often find in Cuba only fat scolds with voices
loud enough to frighten a regiment of men in-
to submission, and faces so brown, so wrink-
led, and so ugly, and with so evident an ab-
sence of all feminine softness, that we listen
in wonder when we are told that they have
been the beauties of their day. Delicacy of
habit, and even of feeling, are, in my opinion,
smothered in their infancy by the constant
association with . negroes ; the loud coarse
laugh and low jests, they imbibe with their
first milk from the same source ; the habit of
command and arrogance, also acquired in their
childhood, appears in after life to destroy all
tenderness of manner, and increase that harsh-
ness of voice so universally remarked upon
by foreigners, and ascribed entirely to the
etfect of climate." ■ [.

Again we have the following :

"Now that we are here, let us enter the
opera-house, where we may, indeed, be sur-
prised to see no external evidence of all this
degrading tyranny. Elegantly dressed and
polished men crowd the boxes and seats ; while
the beautiful repose of countenance and figure,
characteristic of the ladies, are expressive of
dignity and content, to say the least. Their
noble outline of feature appears to great ad-
vantage in the retired light of an opera-box,
while their full busts and rounded arms, con-
trast finely with the richly plaited dark hair,
and simple white dress, rarely ornamented by
more than a fall of soft lace or a natural
flower; and one is tempted to overlook the

518

Cuba.

[May,

absence of intelligence and brightness in those
magnificent eyes, in consideration of tlieir
almost bewildering depth and softness. The
vivacity of the Spanish lady is lost in the Cre-
ole ; but in its stead, we find a charming gen-
tleness very pleasing, and an amiability of
manner absolutely captivating to the stranger.
One dare not, however, raise the eye above the
third tier of boxes, for there again are only met
the depraved countenances and loose manners
of the lower classes, unrestrained by either
good taste or shame."

Our author while rejecting all the scan-
dalous accounts given by foreigners of the
immorality existing among women of
" the better classes," con.siders that among
the lower it is quite different, — that there
indeed, the very meaning of the word vir-
tue is lost, "which disgrace" he says,
" with countless others, Cuba now flings
back with reproaches upon the mother
country." In towns and villages the peo-
ple are declared to be sunk still lower in
ignorance and immorality. Only a little
romance remains among the country lo-
vers :

"The Guagiro, with his wild, dark eve,
wonderfully expressive gesture, and usually
imperturbable self-possession, becomes ridicu-
lously silent and shy in his courting. In
a richly-worked shirt of fine linen, worn
upon the outside as a sack ; a long, and often
elegantly embroidered cambric sash-fastening
to his side, the silver-handled sword, or "ma-
chete," silver spurs, and low slippers, he will
sit for hours opposite his lady-love, only ven-
turing now and then a word of reproof, to be
inteipreted in affectionate playfulness, and to
which she retorts in the same style ; yet now
and then, at a glance, and when unobserved,
they do venture to exchange some very ten-
der word. But gestures, shrugging of the
shoulder.?, little dashing airs of coquetry in the
lady, and bashful approaches on the "part of
the gallant, fill up the measure of the wooing
of the Cuban peasant."

In regard to the "upstarts of the present
military administration," the question
arises, whether the Spanish gentlemen of
by-gone days is not a character now alto-
gether historical ; in illustration of which
we have the ridiculously coarse and vapid
compliment of a young lawyer :

" Una flor," said he, picking a flower,
and presenting it to the marchioness, " a
flower that will appear as beautiful on you,
as your beautiful gifts will in my purse."

Our author considers that many circum-
stances have conspired to efface the simple,
but haughty and noble minded, Spanish
gentlemen, both from the peninsula and
from Cuban society, and in ansv^^er to his
own query suggests, very reasonably, as a
cause, the intermixture, in the best society,
for the last half century, of men risen
through party influence, especially from
the Carlist ranks ; the utter annihilation of
that faith in his church which gave a se-
rious cast to the natural dignity of the na-
tive Spaniard, and the mercenary motives
which, from the throne, have penetrated
down to the humblest cottages.

The following anecdote illustrates the
manner in which wealthy bankrupts settle
with their creditors : —

" To a foreigner, the object of the party as-
sembled at the estate ' Santa Gertrudis,' which
I had accidentally joined, would have appear-
ed incongruous and extraordinary. The
Marquis of Santa Gertrudis, thiough the reck-
less extravagance of his wife had become en-
tangled in his affairs; and were it the practice
for men of wealth to pay ofi their debts at
once, he ■would very likely have become a
bankrupt. This, however, is not the custom in
Cuba; but such matters are managed on this
wise. The creditors are assembled ; yearly
instalments are agreed upon ;. the extravagant
living of the noble family is con.sidered a ne-
cessary expenditure, and the majority, usually
made up of family or fictitious creditors, force
the rebellious claimants to lay down their
arms, and enter into private compromises.
The effect of this course is to set the family
at ease ; the lady returns to her habits of lux-
ury; the sons to their dissipation ; the daugh-
ters to their careless w^aste of finery ; while
they spend their time in love-sick fancies ;
the poor relations and parasite friends to their
customary dependence on the old trunk,
raised from the ground for a few more years;
and the head of the family to fresh undertak-
ings of new estates. And all this is carried
out with as much indifference as if, in place
of an extorted compromise from clamorous
creditors, payment in full of every debt had
been promptly made.

The lady vv'ho, on the occasion, had the
management of this important domestic mat-
ter, was the daughter of the Count of M .

She belonged to what may be called the
staunch nobility. Nature, and the teachings of
her noble-minded parents, had made her a mo-
dest and virtuous woman. But the habits of
her new home, and the circle surrounding her,
were calculated to impair her superior quali-
ties. The universal custom of the country,
rather than indolence, influenced her, from

1850.]

Cuha.

519

the very first years of her married life, to give;
into the hands of her slaves the nursing and
early training of her children. The recollec-
tion of her father's home now and then direct-
ed her attention to books and foreign litera-
ture. But she found none to sympathize in
such tastes; the ball-room, the ' sociedades,'
the operas, her visits, the tedious and loqua-
cious shoppings, the 'paseo,' the correspond-
ence which she found it necessary to maintain
with the country-estate clerks, and, what is
more than all calculated to destroy the fresh-
ness of modesty and beauty, the gambling-ta-
ble, to which she gradually became habituat-
ed, not only deprived her of time for more intel-
lectual and domestic enjoyments, but destroy-
ed her original taste for them. •' Mamma,' said
her son, a boy of fourteen, dressed like a small
gentleman, and with all the nonchalance
and airs of a gallant, ' I don't know how
you or papa are arranging your business
with the creditors, but you must recollect that
my own private property, now in your hands,
must be so left that I may have all the neces-
sary resources for living, and for my cus-
tomary pleasures ; and as to my carriage, I
cannot give it up on any consideration, for,
there is not one of my cousins who is without
this convenience.' He went on at this rate,
until the poor mother, conscious that she was
reaping the fruits of her own errors and ne-
glect, sighed in despondency. I must add,
with pain, that this specimen of filial coldness
and depravity is by no means the exception ;
the too fond and indulgent mothers, who are
themselves the direct cause of such examples,
are far more to be pitied than condemned.
What teaching or light have they enjoyed to
guide them in their incipient path when start-
ing in life 1 The magistrate is corrupt, and
his misconduct is the subject of every-day
anecdotes and scandal; the minister of the
gospel teaches neither by example nor from
the pulpit ; the husband has no idea of per-
forming what would elsewhere be considered
the most ordinary duties; the society is
frivolous ; books are looked upon with aver-
sion; the press is an instrument of oppres-
sion ; and the mainspring of civilization and
civil liberty, faith in Christ, is unknown.

"In what able manner the marchioness
succeeded in exciting the energy of her lawyer,
by the offer of ample reward, what secret un-
derstanding went on between him and the in-
tellectual Castilian judge, how each creditor
was coaxed or frightened into acquiescence, I
cannot say. I will only add, that some of
them obtained favorable arrangements through
the cunning arguments of the judge, which
were the more ludicrous from contrast with
his reasonings with other creditors, whom it
was his policy to discourage in their claims.
It was painful to see how poor neigh-

bors had to yield to these influences out of
utter incapacity to counteract such disgraceful
combinations."

The seeds of infideHty, scattered so
widely at the close of the last century, are
said to have been found in Cuba a more
propitious soil than elsewhere ; and while
the gospel influence, counteracting their
growth, has extended itself in other direc-
tions, this unhappy island still presents a
dark picture of unbelief, corruption and
immorality.

Twenty-five years ago, religious practices
and feelings were more or less in every re-
spectable Cuban fjxmily ; the church bell
at twilight ; the angelus^ or call to even-
ing prayer — created, every where, a simul-
taneous excitement ; children and servants,
at its conclusion, asked a blessing from
their parents and masters ; carriages and
passengers paused in the street, and work-
men refrained from toil.

The Sabbath, formerly held in devotion-
al reverence, is now scarcely attested by a
brief mass, scandalously hurried through,
and witnessed only by a very small portion
of the inhabitants.

At church, "the ladies ply the tele-
graphic fan with the same airs of coquetry
and playfulness as they may have done the
evening before at the theatre, or as they
will probably do the same evening at the
opera. "

With open doors and windows the shop-
keepers and artizans pursue the employ-
ments of the week, and the gentry, the
masters of estates, the officers of govern-
ment, and even the priests themselves,
exhibit the same indifference. The priests,
of course, are not respected ; and "as their
conduct belies the doctrines they have
sworn to propagate, they set themselves
quietly down to enjoy the bodily comforts
of this life, without troubling themselves at
all about their own or their flock's spirit-
ual welfare." However this may be, is
there not assumption in the following
sweeping and personal censure :

"This morning, the elegant-looking and
lordly young Bishop of Havana, in his
gorgeous robes and costly jewels, swept
past me from the altar, amidst a train of ig-
norant and servile priests. Not one gleam of
piety or grace could be discerned in his vain,
worldly countenance — not one single mark or

520

Cuba.

[May,

sign to denote him a follower of the meek and
lowly Jesus."

Although our author makes but few ex-
ceptions to the general profligacy of the
priesthood, he does not consider the i-e-
sponsibility of this dreadful state of things
to rest upon the Romish church or creed :

" It would be illiberal indeed to carry to
so unjust a length those prejudices of Protes-
tantism which are doubtless founded in reason,
and which cannot but be stimulated to a great
degree at the exhibition of Roman Catholicism
in Cuba. Y^X. in the United States no one can
deny that it is a very ditFerent institution, both
in its spirit and its practice, from that which
is presented to the eye of the most superficial
observer in Cuba. The Church proper is not
the responsible cause, but the corrupt political
government which has invaded its domain,
paralyzed all its good energies, corrupted
its entire organization, and poisoned its
very fountains of spiritual purity. The cen-
tral military despotism, in the hands of the
Spanish oflicials, clustered in and about the
palace of the captain-general, may be said to
have absorbed to itself the Church, with every
other good institution possessed by the island in
its better days. Its influence has been destroyed,
its revenues and property, together with all the
patronage of ecclesiastical appointments ap-
propriated by the government. The nomina-
tions to all religious offices are made, directly
or indirectly, by the creatures of the govern-
ment ; and given directly or indirectly to the
creatures of the government. The very mem-
bers of the chapter of the cathedral at Ha-
vana are now named at Madrid, in disre-
gard of the canonical proposals from the
board according to law. Day after day
and year after year have been sutiered to
pass without an appointment to fill the
long vacant bishopric of Havana, and thirty
years have elapsed since the sacrament of
confirmation, as it is termed by the Roman
Catholics, has been administered in the several
districts of the diocese, which should be re-
gularly visited once a year."

This highly important subject is enlarged
upon, and the Catholic clergy of the United
States are called to speak out, and to unite
with the Protestants in the desire to wit-
ness such a termination of the miserable
condition of the Cuban community as is
supposed must result from annexation.

in relation to education, the statistics
presented in this work speak with a force
that is not to be contravened. The official
items referred to, exhibit truly a revolting
picture.

The last published census, which ap-

pears to be that of 1841, gives a total pop-
ulation of 1,04.5,624, of which 571,129
are white inhabitants, free mulattoes and
free blacks, 436,595 are mulatto and black
slaves, and 88,000 transient inhabitants.
The number of schools, according to the
most recent and favorable accounts,
amounted in all to 222, in which were in-
structed 9082 free children ; of these 5325,
it is stated, paid their schools ; and 3757
only, were under gratuitous tuition ; of
the latter, 540 were supported by the
branches of the '' Sociedad Patriotica"
through personal subscription of the mem-
bers, or voluntary taxation 2111 by local
subscription, and 1106 gratuitously taught
by the professors. From the above items,
together with those found in Mr. Saco's
" Parallel between the Spanish and Brit-
ish Colonies," the following comparison is
drawn : —

Number of children

educated in

' proportion to

the whole free

population.

In the Bahama Islands, 1831,

to every 16

" St. Vincent's, . 1830,

" 19

" Jamaica, . . 1827,

" 18

" Antigua, . . 1830,

" St. Christopher's

" Lower Canada, 1832,

" 12

" Nova Scotia, . 1832,

" 10

" Prince Edward's, 1832,

" 14

" Terra Nova, . 1834,

" Mauritius, .

" Pres'cy of Madras 1834,

" 5

And the island of Cuba,

" 63

Our author next proceeds to an investi-
gation of the general causes of complaint,
by which he wishes the world to judge be-
tween the island and her rulers. He de-
clares that the proposition laid down by the
great English commentator in his division
of rights into the right of personal liberty —
the right of personal security — and the
right of property, affords no benefit to the
Cubans.

Many of the tyrannical acts of despot-
ism, in the time of Tacon, have been, and
are continued more or less frequently to
the present time. Under pretence that it
is necessary to keep the native inhabitants
in a state of constant apprehension, in or-
der to insure their continued allegiance,
the government allows every kind of ju-
dicial enormity to be practised upon the
helpless Creole, and he has no means of
redress but through bribery.

1850.]

Cuba,

521

Our author proceeds to an examination
of the method of taxation now adopted in
Cuba. A list, occupying several pages,
is given, composed chiefly of the bal-
ance of diiferent taxes. Much more is
said of Cuban grievances generally. The
press, under a servile censorship, is de-
clared a weapon only wielded against the
people. The Captains General now wield
the judicial, the legislative, and executive
power. The Creoles are excluded from
the army, the judiciary, the treasury, the
customs, and from all influential or lu-
crative portions. In spite of the enormous
tithe collected, it is only by subscrip-
tions that the inhabitants can secure to
themselves temples for worship, or ceme-
teries for their dead. For baptism, or
burial, large additional sums are paid.

A citizen must obtain, and pay for a license
to entertain company, or for any amuse-
ment at his house ; also, for permission to
leave his place of residence. He can nei-
ther walk the streets after ten at night,
without leave, nor lodge a person at his
house, without giving information, nor re-
move from one house to another. Parents
are obliged to prove ill health, or feign it
in their children, in order to procure pass-
ports for them to go to the United States,
for purposes of education :

"A diabolical scheme, concocted in the
chamber of Alco}'-, exists for perpetuating the
importation of African slaves into Cuba, the
primordial cause of her present hazardous po-
sition.

"In that scheme enter not merely some
membeis of the royal family of Spain, but all
its dependents, favorites, and sateUites, includ-
ing the captains-general of Cuba, and their
Bubordinates.

"The 'gratification' of half an ounce in
gold, which was formerly received by the cap-
tains-general for every sack of charcoal (the
nickname given by those engaged in this in-
famous traffic to the African slaves brought
over), has risen to the large sum of three doub-
loons in gold.

" The colonial government and its confed-
erates, not being able to elude the vigilance of
the cruisers of the nations engaged in the sup-
pression of this traffic, in order to continue the
same, have had to appeal to a forced interpre-
tation of existing treaties, pretending to show
that such slaves are imported into Cuba from
Brazil.

"These machinations are carried on by
some members of the royal family in concert

with the colonial government ; and the cabi-
net not only has full knowledge of the same,
but authorizes and protects them, or, at least,
winks at the practices.

" Within these last months various cargoes
of African slaves, amounting in number to
more than 3000, were imjjorted into the island
of Cuba, and there sold almost publicly ; and
in gratifications set apart for the captain-gen-
eral, Senor Alcoy has already received the sum
of 12,000 doubloons in gold — about 200,000
dollars."

Our author considers that Spain, beino-
too weak much longer to hold her Cuban
possessions, a blow will shortly be struck
to achieve the island's independence ; and
goes on to show the reasons which, in his
own estimation, make desirable the annex-
ation of the Island with the United States.
" Cuba," he says, — • - .,

"Standing like a warder in the entrance of
the gulf of Mexico, yet stretching far to the
east, so as to overlook and intercept any
unfriendly demonstration upon either of the
great thoroughfares to South America or the
Pacific, is in a position to overawe the adja-
cent islands, and watch and defend all the
outside approaches to the Isthmus routes to
the Pacific, while it guards the portals of the
vast inland sea, the reservoir of the Missis-
sippi and Mexican trade, the rendezvous of
California transit, and, what has not yet been
duly heeded, the outlet of an immense though
new-born mineral wealth, which is yet to
control the metal markets of Christendom.

" In short, it makes the complete bulwark
of the Mexican Gulf, and only leaves to it
two gates; one between Ca})e Antonia, the
western extremity of the island, and Cape
Catoche, which advances from the coast of
Yucatan to meet it, and forms a strait less
than 100 miles wide; and the other between
Hicacos, the most northern point of Cuba,
and Cape Sable, the southern extremity of
Florida, but a Httle more than 100 miles apart,
and between which passes the "Old Channel"
of the Bahamas.

" Half a dozen steamers would bridge with
their cannon the narrow straits between Yu-
catan and the west point of Cuba, and be-
tween Florida and Matanzas on the north,
and seal hermetically to every aggressive
stranger the entire coast circle of the Ameri-
can Mediterranean. This simple geographi-
cal fact constitutes Cuba the key of the Gulf,
and it would be felt if it passed into the grasp
of a strong and jealous rival. England, firmly
resting on Cuba, and with Jamaica and the
Bahamas to flank her steam operations, would
have full retreat and succor for her fleets, and

522

Cuba,

[May,

would be able at need to concentrate the force
of an empire against the coasting trade.
With such a firm and convenient cover as
that island, with its self-defended coasts and
secure harbors, she could face, Janus-like, in
every direction. With Canada and the Ber-
mudas— raised for that purpose into a strong
naval station — opposite our centre on the
Atlantic, and half way between those strong
extremes, she would pre.sent a dangerous
front to the whole northern coast, while she
executed the bold threat of her minister, to
' shut up the Gulf of Mexico, cut in twain
the commerce between it and the Atlantic
states, and close the mouth of the Mississippi
and its hundred tributaries to the trade and
assistance of the shipping and manufactur-
ino- states.' But strike Cuba — the central and
noblest jewel — from this diadem of power,
and her broken circlet of American strong-
holds is no longer formidable.

England — controlling Cuba on the north
as she claims to control the Mosquito shore
on the south, and mistress of Balize on the
west as she is of Jamaica on the east— would
be the arbitress of the Caribbean Sea, even
now almost her own, and well guarded by
her long array of Leeward and Windward
Islands from other intrusion.

From the moment Cuba becomes an integral
portion of the United States, all the exactions
and oppressions which now weigh so heavily
upon it, will be at an end. The island would
enter at once into the enjoyment of civil and
religious liberty ; and with her ports open to
the commerce of the world — her inhabitants
educated and religiously impressed — her soil
cultivated to its full capability — her products
sent to an unrestricted market — and under the
influence of the moral and political force
which are the vital elements of the American
Constitution — she would become the most
prosperous of the states.

'• On the other hand, the advantages to be
obtained by the United States by the annexa-
tion of Cuba are incalculable.

" If annexation was fully and freely estab-
lished, Cuba would be as valuable to this
confederacy as New York itself. As an out-
post, vital to American trade and defence, and
as a centre of transit and exchange, Cuba
would grow in importance to the whole family
of the confederation, in even measure with
the growth of the states on the Pacific, and
the rising tide of the oriental business which
the flag of the Union is about to lead from
Asia across the Isthmus. She lies exactly in
track of the golden current, and none of the
states are, like her, in a position to watch and
defend every inlet and outlet.

"In the circle of production, essential to a
home supply, always sure and independent of
foreign interference, Cuba can fill nobly the
remaining gap, with her cofiije, cocoa, and
troi)ical fruits. In this, too, she would serve
all her sister states, for she would sell to every
one, and buy of every one, which is not true
of the special product of any other state.
She would also add as much as the Union
really needs of sugar lands, and would make
that, henceforth, a strong and distinct feature
in the national balance of interests."

Many other arguments were advanced,
for which we refer the reader to the book.
We have, perhaps, already trespassed too
far in our extracts.

It strikes us that the deepest — we hope
not the most incurable — of the evils of
Cuba, is her infidelity. If she hopes to
preserve the independence she would ob-
tain, or whatever course she may be in-
duced to adopt, as most conducive to her
future welfare, one thing is paramount — the
eradication of infidelity — otherwise she can
maintain neither her liberty, nor her
dignity.

" That Peo2)le, loMch forgets God, forgets itself."

1850.]

Western Prairies.

523

WESTERN PRAIRIES.

Few know tHeir beauty. Nature is
hymned and talked of in a thousand shapes
by poet and romancer ; gay and smiling in
rural loveliness, or wild in forest and wil-
derness. Her cheerfulness comes from the
hand of man ; his footstep is ever before
us ; and association mixes with simple nat-
ural beauty. Where man is not seen, it is
then the sterile mountain tract, or prime-
val forest ; grand, but austere and gloomy.
The prairies, with the rivers that sparkle
through them, shew nature in new moods ;
utter solitude without gloom, laughing
scenes virgin to the plough and presence of
man.

The streamlets that wander through
these grassy oceans are skirted with tim-
ber five or six miles in width ; their vaUeys
are small prairies spotted with groves and
miniature lakes ; and the grassy bluffs on
either side are sprinkled with branching
oaks. These, scattered over dales, ravines
and swelling uplands, the rivulets them-
selves sparkling over sands, now hidden
from view in masses of tropic vegetation,
now kissing the feet of the valley prau-ies,
and again gleaming through vistas of
beeches and wUd graperies, produce suc-
cessions of the most beautiful park-like
scenery the world can shew. " I, too,
lived in Arcady ;" come with me to the
skirts of one of these Western savannas,
and let thy face and soul, carked by care,
be smoothed by a day in prairie land.

Beautiful land ! beautiful spring time !
Warm winds bring northward odors of
fresh earth and swelling buds. On the
open prairie, cattle are grouped on the ad-
jacent knolls, greetmg the glad season. It
is a day such as " Holy Master Herbert"
sings of : —

" Sweet day, so warm, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky ;
The dews shall weep thy fall to-night.
For thou must die."

VOL. V. NO. V. NEW SERIES.

Let US then mark it white in our calen-
dar ; let the patient four-footed drudges in
the barn-yard enjoy it too, for surely it is
God's holiday. The horses have crunched
their last ear of yellow maize ; the cattle
have turned discontentedly from then:
sheaves of oats, for they have snuffed on
the air the aroma of poplar buds in South-
ern forests ; the gate is open, and away for
a glorious gallop over the prairie sweeps the
equine phalanx. The cattle seek the dales,
and browse on the scented spray. And
now, with stout legs under us, and gay
hearts within, let us strike out into the
wood-land. Over slopes well sodded with
wild grass, dells sparkling with spring rills,
through sheltered nooks where Spring first
lavishes kisses, now threading thickets by
paths made by wild deer, pausmg at tunes
under clumps of oaks where the bluejay
sounds his alarum, and the woodpecker
beats his tattoo, where the rabbit bounds
from his form in the tuft of grass, and the
quail rustles to its arched home in the
hazel, we find ourself at last alone with
Nature.

Cockneyism can find no knowledge but
in the paths of man, and no antiquity but
in the works of his hand. In the wilder-
ness are whole libraries ; volumes of class-
ics which children can read ; hieroglyphics
unravelled by clod-hopper ChampoUions ;
old chronicles shaming Egyptian dynasties.
The veil between us and God and nature
is raised, and mesmerically we are filled
with high truths. It is not poetical illu-
sion, though that is no worse than matter-
of-fact illusion ; but actual intellectual per-
ception. Around, beneath, within, floats
the Unutterable Presence ; and our hearts
fill with the serene humility of children • a
sense of repose, novel and strangely real
as far removed from joy as from grief, from
satisfaction as from hope ; a light neither
gay, nor sad, nor sombre ; we feel that WQ
34

524

Western Prairies.

[May,

walk in tlie shadow of a beneficent out-
stretched arm. Hand-in-hand with this
lowliness of mood is an intense self-oon-
sciousness. God is before us, but around
are our humble brethren of the inanimate
creation ; and man, the first of created
things, in the wilderness steps a monarch.
This feeling is real, it is psychological fact.
As superiority of station among men gives
sense of authority, so does man's natural
dominion over the lower kingdoms. The
Indian and the Arab have a dignity that
civilized men often lack ; and the fron-
tiersman, uncouth in hunting-shirt and wolf-
skin cap, is regal in his pride.

Gladly and cheerily, then, move onward.
The tall dry spears of grass wave m our
face ; a deer starts up before us, wild-eyed,
nostril-working, then up the wind he leaps,
his white tail waving at each bound. And
now we stand on the verge of the bluff ;
the beautiful little river stretching away
right and left, its banks fringed with cot-
ton-wood trees ; between it and us, prairie
covered with grass, winter killed, but now
warm in the yellow sunbeams ; here and
there are spreading elms ; at our feet a
lakelet. Then down the steep sides, cling
to the bushes, plunge through the hazel —
the fires thin its wild growth, no hindrance
is it. The grouse rise in myriads before
us ; a herd of deer, feeding in the distance,
warily eye us, and we are as wild and glad
and free as they. The river is before us,
its smooth bosom covered with wild fowl,
of all creatures the wildest and shyest of
tyrant men. Loving solitudes, morasses
where the foot of man dares not tread, pes-
tilential fens where his frame withers and
his strength leaves him, journeying and
feeding by night, carrying beauty and love
to desolate Northern lands, in their mystery
they seem like feathered spirits. Let us
creep on hands and knees to the bank and
watch them at their play. Some dive after
their finny prey, at this season their chief
food ; some sport in the limpid water,
splashing and chasing, throwing diamond
showers from then- wing -tips ; and others
sit lazily on shore, dozing in the sun, with
heads under their wings, or pluming their
glossy coats. The little beach is white
with their loose feathers. But they have
spied us, and sound their warning. The
timid teal dash with outcry down the
stream ; the wood duck, less wary, circles

for a moment with erected crest and half-
raised wing, and then follows precipitate ;
the mallard rises at once towards the ze-
nith, collects his squadrons, and sweeps
wedge-like over our heads. Farther on,
the wild goose and wild swan take flight,
and with noise like thunder the whole
feathered army darkens the sky.

And now forward over banks of washed
pebbles thrown up by spring floods, among
briar-rose vines in summer a waving roseate
cloud, through clusters of *' burning-bush"
scarlet with flower-shaped berries, and we
stand amid a fleet of patriarchal sycamores.
Huge white trunks rise athwart the sky
like masts in Eastern harbors. Hereditary
homes for the little people of the woods,
gentle but strong, walk silently and tender-
ly among these Titan brothers. Beyond
is a grey forest, time-worn, Saturnian.
In the heats of the year shun its gloom.
Its sombre light drives off the Present,
where man best dwells, and brings up the
light of the Past, sad to all whether in
light or shadow. But at this season the
sun glimmers among the tree-tops, and
warms the jagged bark of the trunks ;
above, flit gay birds, bright yellow, blue
and scarlet, and white. In mid air, swing
interlacing vines, their long cables towing
below; and through all, the little river
leaps and tumbles and sings. Here is a
group of buckeyes, the wild horsechestnut.
In a few weeks, when all around is still
bare, these trees will be in leaf ; a Rosi-
crucian summer in the arms of winter.
Betore us is a grove of maples ; in the
midst, fii-es and cauldrons. A settler fam-
ily have " camped out" to gather their
spring harvest. They know not that it is
the genial spring that make their women
and children sing like larks, the aged prat-
tle, and the woods ring with the laughter
of their stalwart men.

They greet us warmly ; courteous and
self-possessed, hearty but quiet, man meets
man. These rough unwashed backwoods-
men, well-bred gentlemen are they. Vul-
garity is no growth of the wilderness. They
offer us bread "and sugar water." Rest and
eat of the forest dainty.

Sneh is the young year in sunny Ilhnois.
What words can tell its ripened fulness,
the golden glory of autumn ; when the wild
ivy hangs skyward a flaming meteor, and
trees and flowers and shrubs adorn them-

1850.]

Western Prairies.

525

selves for the closing sacrifice of the seasons.
The waters cast back the glow, and robing
all waves the autuuiu fire-mist.

As we emerge from the woodland, the
eye accustomed to the sweep of the horizon,
finds relief after a day spent in narrower
prospects. From the rolling ground we
stand on, we see the Gi-ande Prairie stretch-
ing away interminably, with islands of tuii-
ber scattered in the distance ; below, a
huge swell of land seems like a vast billow
rushing to the shore.

Pay now gives place to night ; no sound
is heard in these solitudes but the booming
of the night hawk and the wrangling of
wolves. As we press on, the prairie-hen
flies from under our feet, and deer bound
silently into the gloom A light is stealing
around us, surely not that of the dim moon.
We round a promontory', and the prairie is
seen on fire. Grandly the flames crackle
and glow. Counter fires have been started
by the settlers, to creep up to windward,
and thus stay the conflagration. iVs they
near each other, they remind us singularly
of opposing armies. Two lines of fire sweep
oif for miles into the prairie. One rushes
impetuously before the wind ; the other
slowly but steadily works up to meet it.
Between, lurid columns bear down from
difi"ei*ent points ; fiery platoons charge in-
to the night, lull, and then rush on with
fresh fury. The wind rises, and whirl-
winds envelope us in smoke and ashes. As
we turn our backs on the uproar, how
sweetly the moonlight steals into our hearts,
like a dream of rest to the devotee and
world-worn.

In yonder cove in the timber are a few
straggling lights ; a small frontier village.
Let us see what this new land has done for
old human nature. A cheerful glow streams
across the highway ; it is the village smithy.
The smith welcomes us warmly with his
fire-seamod hand which makes our own
snap again, though used to the plough and
axe-handle, and motions us to a vacant an-
vil for a seat. Fast the blows fall, fast the
sparks fly, and fast from his mouth come
words of fate, free-will, and the ways of
God to man. Copious of village gossip,
at home in theology, oracular in politics,
the blacksmith is your true radical. His
business lying with those only of his own
class, and his shop being a choice village
lounge, he bitterly contemns all authority

but his own. A high aristocrat would our
republican friend have been, had fate cast
him amid gold instead of ii'on. He is me-
taphysical too, as all our mechanics are,
disposed to go to first principles ; even mor-
bidly reflective. His neighbor the shop-
keeper is blander of manner, more at home
in the lighter topics of the day, and from
his daily study of the papers, handles his
terms better The blacksmith is cruder
in his theories, but they arc his own ; his
expressions are less skilful, but he has
worked them out himself, and can see into
a miUstone every bit as far as the other.
The smith is keen in political economy ;
the man of tape and needles is thorough in
political arithmetic. The first deals out
stubborn apriori arguments, his rival meets
him with stubborn Eaconian facts. The
one is conservative not from principle but
self-interest, the other is radical from neither
interest nor principle, but position. Let
us leave these disinterested champions ere
they get personal, and cross over to where
the vUlage clothiers ply their tranquil
trade. That the tailor is the ninth part of
a man we deny ; it is one of those prover-
bial fallacies which grow out of the malice
or stupidity of mankind. The tailor is
every inch a man, cloth measure. Their
very posture on the shop-board, apparent-
ly so effeminate, needs much muscular ex-
ertion. The young squires of the bodkin,
groan over many a weary back-ache before
they get the requisite strength, they are
not suffered to touch back to wall, but
must sit up in the middle of the board as a
tailor should ; the reverse of the cobbler,
who sinks hopelessly down into his bench,
and is usually stooping and weak-limbed.
The tailor when he leaves his board is erect
and agile. Poised on his nether end, every
stitch sends a jar through his frame, and di-
gestion waits on appetite. Fine feathers
make fine birds 5 from love of his art, he
dresses well, and all know the softening
effect on the character of broadcloth. Dress
gives address. He is suave, even insin-
uating ; courteous and gentle ; a squire of
dames too, the gay Lothario of the village.
Listen ! their talk is of the tender passion ;
love is discussed in every phase. How
they handle it !

One poor fellow we knew, a knight of
the shears ; a knight paladin he was in
truth. Manly, even chivaliic in his bear-

526

Western Prairies.

[May,

ing, ' tender and true' in heart, with the
face and soul of Apollo, he loved too well
the flash of the sabre and crack of the rifle
and sought the wars. Made third officer
in his company by his brother soldiers, he
was accosted on march, with vile words and
brandished sword, by one of those knaves
whom faction, to the nation's disgust, had
thrown into high places. With levelled
revolver, he claimed his privileges as an
officer and a gentlemen. The sword was
dropped, the Jack-in-office sneaked away.
The general officer thus snubbed, after-
wards covered himself with glory by his
magnanimity in throwing up defences for
the enemy. Gods and men looked and
wondered, the greasers stared and inextin-
guishable laughter rent the skies.

Our friend the tailor bore himself more
than well in battle, and was returning with
a name that would have sent him to the
Legislature, and Congress, when the vomitP
laid this strong man low.

A pleasing feature in Western life is, the
perfect social equality. From far and
wide over-laden men here seek refuge.
Strong arms and stout hearts their only
wealth ; all classes at last salute each other
as brothers. The foreign laborer, debased
through generations of starvation and
misery, with little of manhood left but the
instinct that makes the crushed worm
writhe, here finds food, shelter, and work ;
and, what his wildest ambition once never
dreamt of — broad, rich acres that he can
call his own. His brutality is laid aside,
and the man rises in his kindliness and
strength. Here, too, comes the ruined
Eastern merchant. He has left behind
his care, his wealth, and social rivalry,
Ibut he, too, brings his quota to the com-
mon weal in intelligence and refinement.
On the females of this class fall teri'ibly
the hardships of frontier life In thousands
of humble cabins, by forest and prairie, are
found pale, intellectual-looking women,
broken down with unwonted drudgery.
In sUence they struggle on, and one by
one they fade from the earth. Not in
vain is their toil, for a grand stock these
Spartan mothers leave behind for the
peopling of future empires.

But not only for the toil-worn is our
great West a refuge. Unquiet spirits of
all kinds seek it. Some, their souls soft-
ened, rest in peace ; but the restless flee

the placid prairie life. One we knew of,
a reformed bucaneer ; a downright, line
pirate. A very respectable man he was,
urbane and honorable ; an object of interest
to ladies, who loved him for the dangers
he had seen, (he had naiTOwly missed the
halter,) and of respect to his fellow-citi-
zens, for the furrows in his cheek, and his
volcanic eye, showed that the devil within
was not dead, but slumbered ; a gentle
villain he was said to have been, who cut
the throats of his victims, blandly smiling,
and, hat in hand, ushered them along the
plank. Quietly he passed his days, re-
posing on his laurels.

From this medley of people of all coun-
tries, opinions, faiths, and codes of moral-
ity, comes a freedom from prejudice, and an
indifierence to conventional forms, which
alwaj^s mark these Western cosmopolites.
Freed from the incubus of caste, men
breathe freely ; and " good society," word
of dubious import, is found among cobblers
and tinkers. At least, its true conditions
are here equality and mutual dependence,
without which society is a bitter draught
of meanness and insolence. Pretension
fails, where good will only is to be gained ;
and obsequiousness dies out from want of
fuel. Collision thus forces out a tact of
manner and genial bearing — a manliness
and courtesy, which stamps, with a distinct
nationality, the Western citizen. The
stranger cannot fail to be struck with it
when he first sets foot on a Western steam-
boat. To men of warm sympathies,
the universal cordiality, good humor, and
unreserve are highly pleasing ; and, if
disposed to reciprocate the general good feel-
ing, they will be still more charmed with the
frequency of hospitable invitations.

There is another trait, which, on such
occasions, will strilce, perhaps, less pleas-
antly. The indiiference to life here so
marked, is, nevertheless, not merely a
Western, but an American peculiaiity.
From this characteristic the American,
with little of the mere " pluck" of the Eng-
lishman, or his dogged persistence, with
less of the impulsive boldness of the French,
stands unmoved in dangers, where the
hearts of most men faint within them. It
was this that made our ten thousand in
Mexico rival the " the ten thousand,"
on the plains of Assyria. It is this, and
not the mere national energy, that causes

1850.]

Western Prairies.

527

the strange indifference of the public to the
innumerable disasters by flood and field.
It accounts, too, for the reckless steamboat
races on our large water-courses, with their
terrible risk of life. A boat rounds a
point on a Western stream ; colors are
flying ; martial music sounds ; snorting
and foaming, she quivers under the un-
wonted pressure. The hands sweat, and
pant at their work. A tali Hoosier is
seen, seated on the safety valve. The
captain walks the hurricane deck, tremb-
ling with excitement. She passes a vil-
lage ; the people pour out on the bluff.
Soft cheeks flush ; handkerchiefs are
waved ; bright eyes sparkle ; the men
loudly hurrah. The boat returns the
cheering. Fresh dry wood is flung into
the glowing crater ; sides of bacon, kegs
of lard, tar barrels, are heaped up, and
faster, faster she surgCvS on. The cap-
tain doffs hat, and bows low to the fair
spectators, and swears to win the race, or
a place in Abraham's bosom. The passen-
gers agree that love, and war, and steam-
boat racing, varied with a little bowie-
knife practice, and quiet brag and poker, are
sport fit for gods. Shortly after, under cloud
of night, the rival boat crawls along ;
beautifully whipped, she had given up the
contest. Fuel had given out, and a keg
of gunpowder had been proposed to the
captain, but he was not the true grit ;
perhaps he owned a share in the boat.
He looks moodily at the crew ; they sneer
in return, and give warning. The pas-
sengers grumble , and ask to be put ashore ;
the ladies cross both boat and captain off
their books. All must own that the sports
of the West are in keeping with their
gigantic plains and rivers.

As the traveller lands at some small
river port, the man that carries your valise
to the village inn, takes you patronizingly
under his wing, and gives much friend-
ly advice. Quite cheering, it is to
those that come within these borders,
haunted by spectral bowie-knives and re-
volvers. As you proceed you are saluted as
Colonel, Major, Squire, or Judge, accord-
ingly as self-esteem jerks back your shoul-
ders and the crown of your head, or
judgment pulls them forward. Encourage
the pleasing delusion, and cheap military
renown, or legal eminence, will be yours
to the end of your days. Often is heard

the heartsome challenge of, " Stranger,
how arc you?" and your heart bounds,
and warmly you grasp the hand that in
the nineteenth centur}'^ opens to stranger-
hood. Elsewhere it is the gentleman from
Maine, or Georgia, or Timbuctoo, or a
vagrant the police must see to. The hotels
make no returns of strangers. That poetical
race are fast fading from the face of the earth.
They linger on our Western frontier,
mournfully treading in the foot steps of the
red man ; and when the last Indian dis-
appears on the shores of the Pacific the
last stranger will be close on his heels.

The trait that is at the bottom of this
heartiness of manner is one of world-wide
application. The ability to assimilate with
those about us, or in other words, the
power to reproduce in our own breasts
their passing moods of thought and feeling,
is necessary for us to understand, to sym-
pathize, to work upon and to give the sem-
blance of those moods. Not all the theories
of human nature from Ai'istotle to Gall,
will give this power. It is only found in
the school of life. Those whose pursuits
lead them apart from mankind, and who
deal with things not men ; the recluse of
any kind, the student, the artizan ; those
whose life is spent in a routine of figues
or forms, are all wanting in this impressional
facility. Occasion may bring them out,
but only to relapse into their dry and un-
irapassioned exterior. But those whom
circumstance has kept among men, and
whose study, unconscious perhaps, has
been living man ; those who have been
forced to consult and bend to the humors
of men, have thereby gained a knowledge
and a power more useful than books can
give. It lends to the man of fortune bred
up in the midst of society, his bland and
seductive courtesy ; it gives dramatic
power to the author and theatrical talent
to the actor ; it is the essential in diplo-
macy, and of Yankee 'cuteness in bargain-
ing ; with it, the knave becomes honored
among men ; without it, he comes to
the gallows ; it gives success to the man
a bonnes fortunes to all in fact who
easily win the hearts of either men or
women. This principle of our nature is
largely developed in the western wilds.
Subsistence easily obtained, there is a large
scope for the social instincts ; and men
congregate, and are far less solitary in their

528

Western Prairies.

[May,

lives than the dwellers in large cities. The
backwoodsman, backed perhaps by his non-
chalance and uninjured self-respect, would
be at home in Eastern saloons : with us3,
would be the life of select coteries ; far
more so, than many of those trim young
gentlemen, who pace public promenades,
and see little of the gay world but its pan-
tomime. The thorough-bred man of the
world would be equally at home canvass-
ing for votes in log-cabins, or haranguing
his fellow-citizens from the stump. Shake
hands then, men that tread the prairie sod
and men that glide over carpets of down,
men of glistening shoon, and men of the
mocassin, for ye are brothers.

Little wonder is it then that individuals
in the West so often rise from the lowest
vocations to celebrity. One is now before
our mind, who, in his youth, swung the
axe for fifty cents a day, and whom early
manhood found spelling over his a, b, c's.
But the best of all educations for the battle
of life, the knowledge of men, this boun-
teous land had given him in common with
all its sons. He is now an accomplished
lawyer, and a whig representative in Con-
gress. Such men know the value of the
institutions under which they grow up, and
not one jot or title of their well balanced
conservation would they abate. We hope
shortly to be able to present our readers
with a portrait of this gentleman. " Long
and lank and brown, as is the ribbed sea-
sand," ungainly in figure, and attenuated
in face, its knightly lines impress, and its
frank conciliation wins. His warm blood
flames in his eye, but his ho?ihommie is ir-
resistible by crowds or individuals.

Another phase of the above-mentioned
national trait, is the early period at which
the boy learns to act and talk and be treat-
ed as a man. W^hile Eastern youth are
imbibing learning at the gentle breasts of
Alma Mater, the lad of the prairie gathers
truer wisdom from the rough counsels of
men. And when colleges and law-schools
pour forth their verdant inmates to astonish
the Western native, they find that their
verdancy alone surprises. Many a tough
lesson must they then con, before they
make up for lost time. In these frontier
villages the lads gather with the men around
the shop-doors, in the blacksmith's hovel.

about the stove at the village inn ; and
while their elders talk, listen with quiet
judgment ; or if they have aught to say
coolly say it. Little respect for authority
have they, it is our national defect ; great
self-reliance, they learn it as they wander
with rifle on shoulder over plain and wood-
land ; strong, reflective and analytic ability,
for it is only in crowded regions where mea
gain their bread by unthinking routines,
that the brain becomes an automaton and
the reason withers. Before their beard
has sprouted, their mind is full-grown, and
they mount the stump.

This, then, this teeming soil has done or
will do for humanity. It shew us that never
before has man held destiny so complete-
ly in his hands. That from the working
men of America must come development,
if development really lies before us in this
world. It tells the Fourierist raving about
conventional distinctions, that distinctions
are the work of nature's hand ; that the
strong arm is lord of the weak one, and
that he who can search the depths of his
brother's soul, can turn that soul to his
own will. It tells the infatuate of society,
who also vulgarly raves, and who rests his
feebleness on others' strength, that these
conventions are but forms of an inward
power ; that the spirit spreads fast, and the
form ever lags behind. It tells him that
despairs of human improvement, thatmany
of the industrial classes are far ahead in
intellectual essentials perhaps of himself.
It tells the panegyrist of " blood," that the
best blood is the rough common stock,
where collision brings out vigor.

What more do we learn from this pleas-
ant land, where men from the east and
west, where men from the north and south
commingle .'' That no institution that man
has framed is entirely free from wrong or
evil ; that none that have stood the test of
time are totally devoid of truth or good.
That sectional prejudices fade away when
brought face to face ; that charity to the
opinions of others is the truest philosophy,
and manliness and good feeling the best
breeding, and we learn at last, great truth !
that in the lowliest vocations of life are found
the conditions of intellectual rise, of moral
excellence and real refinement.

T. C. C.

1850.] The Old Homestead. 529

THE OLD HOMESTEAD. '

Where yonder elm its graceful foliage spreads.
And four tall poplars lift their spire-like heads.
As if from vulgar eyes the wreck to hide.
Of what they once adorned in stately pride ;
There, where twin lilacs breathe sweet odors round,
And all with purple stars bestrew the ground,
The ruined Homestead, once so trimly gay, . . '"

Forsaken stands, and tottering to decay.
Those roofless chambers shelter yield no more :
On one frail hinge slow creaks the crazy door :
No smoke, aspiring, curls amid the trees.
And paneless casements clatter in the breeze. ,

That time-bowed stoop, of many a sad farewell.

And many a kindly welcoming could tell,

But years have flown since o'er its threshhold passed

The lonely, lingering footstep of the last.

If yet, perchance, some passing traveller dare
Tread the weak floor and mount the uncertain stair.
Outspreading far, a landscape wide he sees,
Groves, and green vallies, and embowering trees ;
The distant village, and the nearer plain,
The bounteous orchard, and the ripening grain.

Sad contrast these with yon neglected fields.
Whose arid mould the scanty thistle yields ;
Where, every vestige lost of rural toil.
The plough has ceased to turn the exhausted soil ;
The scythe no longer sweeps the grassy lawn ;
The very foot-way to the door is gone ;
The song of industry, its busy tread,
The social converse — all, alike, are fled.

There ne'er again the host's convivial voice
Shall bid, with cordial greetings, to rejoice ;
Nor careful housewife's kindly proffered hoard
Be spread to tempt the traveller to her board.
Those young, fresh hearts, those spirits lithe and gay.
With song and mirth who wore the hours away —
Along that floor, where oft the dance they led.
Shall ne'er again the lively measure tread ;
To sprightly viol or romantic flute
The walls that echoed are forever mute ;
Cold is the hearth-stone, — all is silent there, —
The noisy pastime and the peaceful prayer.

530 The Old Homestead. [May,

There, oft, at eve, the hoary-headed sire.
With conscious skill, would lead the evening choir ;
Or, while the circle gathered reverent round,
• With simple wisdom sacred texts expound.

'Neath yonder elm his summer seat he chose.
When day's long toil enhanced the late repose ;
... Slow from his pipe the cloudy fragrance rolled, ■ • , ,/

While sunset tinged the old green woods with gold : - ^

, ' No cares penurious stirred his peaceful breast ;

His toil was duty, his reward was rest. ' - ' .

O'er yonder weed-grown patch his garden lay ■ .,

Rich with the culture of each passing day : . , ^

. ' Its pathways trim no more allure the feet, ' ';' i

The long, rank grass o'ertops the sylvan seat: . <f* '

Those damp, green stones still mark the living spring,
. ■' • • But morn no more the accustomed step shall bring : ' , *■

..J- , The sun looks lone the distant hills between, , •

And throws no human shadow o'er the scene.

One fair-haired urchin was the old man's joy : •■ ' . ^

' I . Active and apt, a wild and wayward boy, ■ - , ' '; ^

s' , Who oft, with truant feet, at mid-day, hied , > • ^

■ ■ With rod and line, to pace the river side; ...

, . ' Or to the green wood with his gun repaired, ...

Or trapped the rabbit, or the partridge snared. ■, . •' .

His buoyant steps no more those fields may press.
Nor welcome glad his late returnings bless.
■, Oft times, at night, a kindly shelter sought,

When storms some stranger to their fire-side brought;, ' ' , . ' .
The traveller's wondrous story charmed his ear, '- ,

And near the listener drew — and still more near ; *" .

Flushed with a new desire, the pleasing theme , - ■ " ' •"

■ ' • Beguiled his day and filled his nightly dream ; ., „ ^ ■ .,

Till, all elate remoter realms to see,
.^ . He, too, — the stripling, — must a traveller be : ■

O'er lands unknown, bright visions to pursue, . .'

1 Still following hopes that still before him flew, , ;• 1

■ A world-wide wanderer, from his native shore, •-, . •

._ ,, The boy departed and returned no more. - '

. ' '_ ' In yonder attic, roofless now, and bare

' . To wintry storms alike, and summer air, ■ .' ., • '

Where through the wainscot sprouts the poisonous weed, I ■

' . • And loathsome toad and bloated earth-worm feed, ,-■ " -! ~

' There, with his books, the wrapt enthusiast sate ;

His books, at once his solace and his fate ; '' , .

The field-task finished ere the page was sought, — , ■ . '•

More dear the solace as more hardly bought ; ■ .

There, all unaided, save by that strong will •: ' ■;

' ' . That mastering difficulties sought them still, .- ".

' ■ ' Imbued with classic love, he toiled alone, .' ■•' • '

And made the lore of ancient time his own. ■ ..,

Where, oft, the live-long night his taper burned, ■."'.:.

As there intent the learned page he turned, — • •

Where, slowly pacing, oft his step was heard.

1850.] The Old Homestead, 531

Lone echo answers to the midnight bird ;

The breeze, that fanned his pale and patient brow,

Still wanders there, but all unheeded now ;

The student's task is done ; and wild flowers wave

And night dews fall around his early grave. -

One stalwart youth, inured to manly toil, Ji •

Robust with labor, turned the healthful soil ;

'Gainst the broad oak alike the axe could wield, - . ^

Or thresh the grain, or mow the ripened field.
Nor tasks like these his sole employ he made ; •

But gentler arts, with native skill, essayed : ' • ,

Full well the viol's hidden charm he knew,

And o'er its strings no vidgar bow he drew. . ' .

The serious mood beseemed his humor best ; . ^ •

So grave his look it half repulsed a jest ; ... .,' - , .

Yet, oft, from him, to crown the social glee, ' '

Came humorous joke, and racy repartee. • ' ■ , ' - .

• With grave suggestion, oddly misapplied, .. ' •

He hit the mark, while seemed the aim far wide ; .
And while the rest with bursting laughter shook, ' . , ;

ReseiTed and shy, maintained his serious look. . •
A village lass at length his graver mood . • ' , '

To smiles converted, and his heart subdued. i ' - ' • '

To other scenes the new made bride he bore, ' ' ' .

■ Nor cheered nor served the ancient homestead more. -^ \

, , Where now, through broken chinks, with filmy ray.

Pale moonbeams gild the chamber of decay,

There once the maiden sought her pillowed rest, ■ - . '

,. ■■ Or sat retired in musing fancy blest: >. ^ -

> •' Now to the tuneful thrash her ear inclined, — , ' ~ '

Now drew the truant rose branch through the blind; ' '' ' , ••

As o'er yon woods slow rose the evening star, _ ...

With dreamy heart she touched the light guitar, , ' .

While by the sweet enchantment led more near, • . ' .

The homeward rustic, wondering, paused to hear. . . , . ■ •

No witching melodies his feet delay ■

' •' As duly now, he plods his evening way : - '"

Though still the thrasher haunts those aged trees, . ■ ,

His songs no more the listening beauty please: . ' >

Where blushed the rose, along the lattice led, .■ '.^

- ' The dismal ivy's ragged draperies spread ; .

Serena! loveliest of the group, how fast ,. "' . .

The flower-like beauty of her blooming passed !

Oft was she seen at early summer morn, ' '•„ ■

• , Ere yet the dews forsook the trembling thorn, -.:',.

Laden with spoils from field and flowery bed.

Warbling quick measures to her own light tread.

As then, arranged in tasteful order meet, ■ ^

Each vase she filled with blooms and odors sweet, ' ,. ■ '

While beaming smiles declared her artless joy.

How fitting seemed the delicate employ !

Around each graceful vase, — more graceful they, —

Her white hands hovered like twin doves at play ;

582 The Old Homestead. [May,

While 'twixt her slender fingers peeping out,

Some wilful flower would seek its whereabout.

Or softly lean against her flowing hair.

As to the task she bent her forehead fair.

Caught by reflection was that glowing hue
• ^ With such soft blush that did her cheek imbue ?

Caught by reflection from those flowers outspread, - ^

The rich carnation, the camelia red, , ■

Roses, with bursting buds, of sweetness rife, . '

Like her, just opening into riper life : ' ',

From these did she the soft suffusion win, • ^ . ■

Or, from that lovelier flower, enshrined within ? •'

Purer than lilies in the moon's cold ray, -''.•' \ - ■ '

Sweeter than violets in the lap of May, V ' • '

Inborn, indigenous, untrained by art, , '

^ • • V ': Innocence, native to the virgin heart !

Crowned with a radiant bloom, all blooms above, • ^

. - It bears a blossom, and we call it Love. - -

, • The flower enshrined within Serena's breast, -' ■

"^ ' With transient joy her artless bosom blessed, " .^' .

But all too soon, by falsehood chilled, no more -• ' ' ,

,. ■ ■ The flower divine its radiant love-bloom bore, , , . ■ '

■ ■ .■ ■ Life's mid-day heat too delicate to bide, '. , '

Thj bloom was blighted — and Serena died. " ' -

Where poisonous vines now spread their tendrils wide, i

And leaves, o'erlapped, the parlor window hide, , '

^ ■ - O'erlooking thence the distant village green, ■

At early eve was oft the Matron seen. ■' ■ "

With busy needles glancing in the sun, '' ■ '

She knit the thread the morning's toil had spun ;

Or read, with voice subdued, some legend dear, " . ,

To one pleased listener, ever lingering near, — —

A timid child, of pale, attenuate face, ^ ,'

And feeble frame — the youngest of the race. '■ ' ■ ^

In growth by nature stinted, he could ne'er
. ■ Partake the sport to active youth so dear ;

And thus it followed, other joys denied, . ^

" '. He loved the legend at his mother's side. ■ ' ■ . j . ■

For her, much striving of unquiet thought,
I Above the calmness of her life was wrought. ' .

From out the love, that feeble boy she bore.
Came anxious fears the future to explore. ^ '

- " Should she be called away, who might bestow

The care on him that only mothers know 1

Whose voice, like hers, his hours of illness soothe ? . -

Whose hand like her's the restless pillow smooth 1" ■ ^

Thus ran her thoughts ; but dimly, through such fears, - .

She saw the shadow of the coming years.
Ere fifteen summers crowned his youthful head, ^ - •

' ■ " The mourning mother left him with the dead. ", 1 ■ ""

A childless widow — last of all her race, ^ ■

She lingered long, sole tenant of the place.
Prepared in meek submission — calm of mind, • ■ ,

I Alike to follow, or remain, resigned ; ••■."'

1850.] ^ The Old Homestead. 533

She lingered long, and slowly, day by day,
Began the fine old homestead to decay ;
Till tolled at last for her the funeral knell,
And then, — deserted, — all to ruin fell !

Now, oft, 'tis said, strange harmonies are heard,
When whispering leaves by midnight winds are stirred ;
And shadowy forms and ghastly faces there.
Flit thwart the gloom, and through the casements glare.
The sturdy laborer mends his evening pace,

To shun the oft told horrors of the place ; ' *

And while his children, listening, crowd the hearth, , . "
Recounts the terrors that betrayed his path. ,. . ' ,

He bids them shun that desolated ground, ^~

Where sounds and shapes mysterious linger round ; ,■• . • - —

And tells of ghost that walks the crumbling walls, .• ' . . . ' '

. And voice, that oft the midnight traveller calls. : ■'

If ere, as close the shades of evening grey, ■.--■;

The village maiden chance to pass that way, '. • '•\ • •

She hurries on with sidelong glance of fear, .^'.': . . ■ . .

And cowering fancy paints the phantom near. . '. , -

Sacred no longer to a virtuous race, • . , - ■ ■

Pale superstition has usurped the place. - ■ -, " '•' ' • ' •

Too sad the theme ; yet memory loves to east ' ■ ' ' • ,^

Her tender, tearful glances o'er the past, ■ ^ ' , ' - - ; ' t .

Lure back the vision of each old delight, v \ . - ,. . ••

And, link by link, the circle reunite ; ',-■...

Force from departed joys a luscious pain, '. ' - ' , .

As withered roses, crushed, breathe sweets again.
Seen, like the sun, his beams when showers enshroud.
Reflected feebly through the sombrous cloud,
. ■ The vision dimly gleams. The years, turned back, ■ • ' ' ''

Retrace the foot-prints of their noiseless track.
WhUe, as some sun-lit cliff o'erlooks the storm,
•' • Serenely stands Faith's heaven-illumined form ;

. • ■ The faint obscure with smiles of promise cheers,

, And points the moral of the circling years.
Ceaseless Mutation ; oldest law of earth,
, Calling from slow decay the vigorous birth ; ' . ' ' .•

And, waxing, waning, still, from first to last.
The Future brightening as declines the Past.

534

Congressional Summary.

[May,

CONGRESSIONAL SUMMARY.

In Washington, March 31st, 1850, died
John Caldwell Calhoun, aged sixty-eight
years and fourteen days. ]Mr. Calhoun had
been of late in failing health, and the excite-
ment of the recent events in Congress, proved
too much for his undermined constitution.
His death was like his life, self-sustained and
unfaltering.

For nearly half a century, Mr. Calhoun
had been in public life. During the whole of
that period, his position was a prominent one.
Crossing swords in debate with Randolph,
with Clay and Webster, sought in counsel
by Madison and Monroe, his foot never fail-
ed him in such dizzy heights, his self-poised
presence of mind never deserted him. Too
much of a Statesman for a successful politi-
cian; too sectional in his views and feelings
for a man of the nation, he was for that sec-
tion all that a leader could be.

In such capacity, his character was well-
suited to arouse enthusiasm and lasting re-
gard. Immovable in his principles, of clear
and logical intellect, singularly independent
aud self-reliant in judgment and action, am-
bition, the greatness of most men, was Mr.
Calhoun's only weakness. Kind and just in
his domestic and social relations, he sought
his only relaxation from official duties in the
society of his friends and family. His con-
versational powers were remarkable, and con-
tributed not a little to his political success.
He possessed alike the confidence of his con-
stituents and the respect of the great men
with whom he was ever associated. Had the
qualities which drew forth these feelings been
less real and sterling, he could never have
maintained this proud position.

Mr. Calhoun commenced his public life in
the Legislature of his own State. After serv-
ing there a few years, he was transferred to
Congress, and at once took his place among
the great minds of the country. His maiden
speech was in defence of the resolutions re-
commending a declaration of war with Great
Britain. He spoke in reply to one of the most
brilliant efforts of Randolph. He sustained
the reputation he had earned at home, and
gained the name of being the most effective
orator of the day. The course he pursued in
bis responsible position as Chairman of the

Committee of Foreign Affairs is now national
history.

At the age of thirty-five, he was invited by
President Monroe to a place in the Cabinet.
He was appointed Secretary of War. The
affairs of this department were in the most
complete confusion ; so much so, that Mr.
Calhoun's friends doubted the prudence of his
accepting a situation that demanded a busi-
ness talent for afl'airs. He applied his power-
ful mind to the task, and organized the De-
partment on a footing that stands to the pre-
sent day. The unsettled accounts of the
Government, amounting to near fifty millions,
he reduced to less than three millions The
annual expenditure of the army lie found four
millions, and effected a saving thereon of one
million three hundred thousand. At the close
of Monroe's administration, he was elected
Vice-President, and was re-elected in 1828.
During the difficulties between South Carolina
and the General Government, he resigned and
was elected Senator in place of Hayne. This
difficult position he held to the entire satisfac-
tion of his partizans. But the doctrine of
nullification, however grateful to his own
State, wras odious to the rest of the Union ;
and Mr. Calhoun's prospects of the Presi-
dency, and career as a national man were
effectually checked.

He continued to represent South Carolina
in the Senate of the United States for eleven
years. In 1844 he was appointed Secretary
of State by President Taylor. During the
year he held that office, he was mainly instru-
mental in bringing about a measure, that is
now, in its effects, convulsing the country to
its centre. His diplomacy cleared the way
for the annexation of Texas. The English
Government convinced from Mr. Calhoun's
energetic remonstrances that the United States
would permit no interference, suffered that
country to fall quietly into our hands.

Mr. Calhoun in carrying this measure was
true to the political instincts of his whole life.
He denied his nationality as an American citi-
zen, and admitted no claims but those of his
own State and his own section. Staunch to
his post, it was in the furtherance of these
claims and this policy that he drew his last
breath.

1850.]

Congressional Summanj.

535

" But he is gone — a man whose faults were few :
A nobler treads not Senatorial halls ;

To his own views of right intensely true,
To Heaven's great aim magnificently false !

With steadfast will, that none could bend or
break,

A kingly victim he to a profound mistake !

He stood a bulwark 'gainst the advancing tide
Ot Human Progress, but the conquering wave

Kissed as it sank, that brow's majestic pride.
And wailed regretful murmurs o'er his grave.

Long be his resting place a hallowed spot.

Till Dignity, and Truth, and Manhood are for-
got."*

On the announcement in the Senate of JVIr.
Calhoun's death, Mr. Clay spoke in eulogy
of his virtues.

" My personal acquaintance with him," he
said, '' commenced upwards of thirty-eight
years ago. The Congress of which we then
hecame members, was that among whose de-
liberations and acts was the declaration of
war against the most powerful nation^ as it
respects us, in the world. During the prelim-
inary discussions which arose in preparation
for that great event, as well as during those
which took place when the resolution was
formally adopted, no member displayed a more
lively and patriotic sensibility to the wrongs
which led to that awful event than the de-
ceased, whose death all unite now in deplor-
ing. Ever active, ardent and able, no one
was in advance of him in advocating the cause
of his country, and in denouncing the injustice
which compelled that country to arnns. In all
the Congresses with which I have had any
acquaintance since my entry into the service
of the federal government, in none, in my op-
inion, has been assembled such a galaxy of
eminent and able men as were those Congres-
ses which declared the war, and which im-
mediately followed the peace. In that splen-
did assemblage, the star which has now set,
stood bright and brilliant. It was my happi-
ness, sir, during a great part of the life of the
departed, to concur with him upon all ques-
tions of national policy. During the session
at which the war was declared we were mess-
mates, as were other distinguished members
of Congress from his own patriotic State. I
was afforded by the intercourse which result-
ed from that fact, as well as from subsequent
intimacy and intercourse which arose between
us, an opportunity to form an estimate not
merely of his public but of his private life,
and no man with whom I have ever been ac-
quainted exceeded him in habits of temper-
ance, and in the simplicity and tenderness of
social intercourse. And such was the high
estimate I had formed of his transcendent tal-
ents at the end of his services in the execu-
tive department under the administration of

* Tribune Newspaper.

Mr. Monroe, that had he been translated to
the highest office of the government, I should
have felt assured, that under his auspices the
honor and prosperity and glory of our country
would have been safely preserved. Sir, he is
gone. No more shall these halls witness in
yonder seat, the flashes of his keen and pene-
trating eye. No more shall we listen to that
torrent of clear, concise and compact logic
poured from his lips. Sir, this is not the pro-
per place, nor should I be the proper person to
attempt a delineation of his character, or of
the powers of his mind. I will only say that
he possessed a lofty genius, that in his powers
of generalization of those' subjects of which
his mind treated, I have seen him surpassed
by no man, and the charms and captivating in-
fluence of his colloquial powers have been
felt by all who have ever witnessed them.

Mr. Webster, on the same occasion, spoke
in high testimony of the character of the de-
parted Statesman.

" I made my first entrance," he said, " into
the House of Representatives in 1813. I there
found Mr. Calhoun ; he had already been an
efficient member of that body for two or three
years. I found him then an active and effici-
ent member of the assembly to wiiich he be-
longed, taking a decided part and exercising a
decided influence in all its deliberations, from
that day to the day of his death. Amidst all
the strifes of party and politics, there has sub-
sisted between us always and without inter-
ruption, a great degree of personal kindness.
Differing widely upon many great questions
belonging to the institutions "and government of
the country, those differences never interrupted
our personal and social intercourse, I have
been present at most of the distinguished in-
stances of the exhibition of his talents in de-
bate. I have always heard him with pleas-
ure, and often with much instruction, and not
unfrequently with the highest degree of ad-
miration. Mr. Calhoun was calculated to be
a leader in whatever association of political
friends he was thrown, he was a man of un-
doubted genius and of commanding latent.
All the country admit that his mind was per-
ceptive and vigorous— it was clear, quick and
strong. Sir, the eloquence of Mr. Calhoun,
or the manner of the exhibitions of his senti-
ments in public bodies, was part of his intel-
lectual character — it grew out of the qualities
of his mind^t was plain and strong, some-
times unsurpassed still always severe, reject-
ing ornament, not often seeking far for illus-
tration. His power consisted in the plainness
of his expression, in the closeness of his logic
and in the earnestness and energy of his man-
ner. These are the qualities, as I think, that
have enabled him, through such a long course
of years, to speak often and yet always to
comrnand attention. His demeanor as a Sen-
ator is known to us all — is appreciated and

536

Congressional Summary.

[May,

venerated by us all. No man was more re-
spectful to others — no man conducted with
greater decorum and no man with greater dig-
nity. I think there is not one of us but felt,
when he last addressed us from his seat in the
Senate, with his form still erect, with a voice
by no means indicating such a degree of phy-
sical weakness as did in fact possess him,
with clear tones, and an impressive and most
imposing manner — there is none of us, I think
wlio did not imagine that we saw before us a
Senator of Rome, when Rome survived. Sir,
I have not in public nor in private life, known
a more assiduous person in the discharge of
his appropriate duties. I have known no man
who wasted less of life in any pursuits not
connected with the immediate discharge of his
appropriate duties. I have known no man
who wasted less of life in what is called re-
creation, or employed less of life in any pur-
suit connected with the immediate discharge
of his duty. He seems to have had no recre-
ation but the pleasure of conversation with
his friends. Out of the chambers of Con-
gress he was either devoting himself to the
acquisition of knowledge pertaining to the im-
mediate subject of the duty before him, or else
he was indulging in those social interests in
which he has so much delighted. My hon-
orable friend of Kentucky has spoken in just
terms of his colloquial talents. They certain-
ly were singular and eminent — there was a
charm in his conversation. He delighted, es-
pecially, in conversation with young men. I
suppose that there has been no man among
us who had more winning manners in his in-
tercourse and conversation with young men,
than Mr. Calhoun. I believe one great power
of his character, in general, was his conversa-
tional talent. I believe it is that as well as
a consciousness of his high integrity, and
the highest reverence for his talent and ability,
that has made him so endeared an object to
the people of the State to which he belonged.
Blr. President, he had the basis, the indispen-
sable basis, of a high character, and that was
unspotted integrity, unimpeached honor and
character. If he had aspirations, they were
high and honorable. There was nothing
grovelling, or low, or selfish that came near the
head or heart of Mr. Calhoun — firm in his
purpose, perfectly patriotic and honest, as 1
am quite sure he was in the principles that he
espoused and in the measures that he defend-
ed. Aside from that large regard for that
species of distinction that conducted him to
eminent station, for the benefit of the repub-
lic, I do not believe that he was imbued with
selfish feelings. However, sir, he may have
difTered from others of us in his political prin-
ciples, those principles and those opinions will
descend to posterity under the sanction of a
great name. He has lived long enough — he

has done enough, and done so successfully,
so honorably as to connect himself, for all
time, with the records of his country."

On Tuesday, March 19, Mr. Hale addressed
the Senate in reply to Mr. Calhoun's speech
on the slavery question.

He proposed examining the history of the
agitation of this subject, the account of which,
he said, as given by IMr. Calhoun, sounded
more like romance, than the truth of history.
That gentleman had asserted that these agita-
tions consisted in a series of aggressions by
the North on the rights of the South ; and
that these aggressions, resulting in the loss of
the equilibrium between the two sections, had
commenced in the ordinance of 1787. But
how, he asked, could that ordinance be
termed an aggression, when the only dissent-
ing vote, on its adoption, was from a Northern
state f This ordinance, he said, which is no
other than the original of the Wilmot Proviso,
was passed with the full consent of the South,
was re-enacted by the first Congress that
assembled under the federal Constitution, and
has continued to be re-enacted, in substance,
from the time of General Washington, who
signed the first act, down to President Polk,
who signed the same provision in the Oregon
bill. And this principle, the power of Con-
gress to legislate on the subject of slavery in
the territories, or between the United States
and other countries, has been assumed in every
act of the Federal Government, organizing
territories from that time to this. In proof of
this, Mr. Hale, referred to an act pa.ssed in
1794, prohibiting the carrying on the slave
trade from the United States to any foreign
place or country; to the act of 1798, making
it unlawful to bring slaves into Mississippi
Territory, from any place without the United
States; and to the Oregon bill of 1848.

With regard to the assertion of the Senator
from South Carolina, Mr. Hale continued, that
the direct attacks on slavery in Congress have
commenced within the limited period of fifteen
years, he would refer him to the year 1776,
and he would find one of the most " agitat-
ing" and "fanatical" papers that he could
well find, beginning Avilh the declaration that
all men are created equal. He would also
refer him to a petition dated 1776, from
Benjamin Franklin as President of the Penn-
sylvania Society for the abolition of slavery.
He referred also, to the action of Congress
upon a petition of the inhabitants of the terri-
tory of Indiana, praying that slavery might
be permitted within tliat territory for a limited
period. Mr. Randolph, Chairman of the
Committee to whom the petition was referred
reported as follows :

" That the rapid population of the State of
Ohio, proves, in the opinion of the Committee that
tho labor of slaves is not necessary to promote the

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

537

growth and settlement of colonies in that region.
That this labor, demonstrably the dearest ot all,
can only be employed to advantage in the cultiva-
tion of products more valuable than any known
to that quarter of the United States. And that
the Committee deem it highly dangerous and in-
expedient to impair a provision widely calculated
to promote the happiness and prosperity of the
Northwestern country, and to give strength and
secm'ity to that extensive frontier, and they believe
that in the salutary operation of this law, the in-
habitants of Indiana, will find, at no distant day
ample remuneration for a temporary privation of
labor and of emigration."

Surely, continued Mr. Ha!e, these instances
sufficiently prove that the ordinance of 1787
was not the act of a part, but of the whole
country, that its spirit was impressed on the
legislation of the country at the earliest
period ; and that it has continued them to the
present day.

Another cause of agitation, and of disturb-
ance of the equilibrium, the Senator proceeded,
is sought in the ^Missouri compromise. But
this compromise, whenever offered, uniformly
receives the votes of the South, while the
North, as a body, are opposed to it. A third
cause of disturbance is pointed out in the
Oregon bill ; but this bill was only passed in
1848, and has hardly been in operation a year
and a half.

The next in this series of aggressions is
what is called the unequal system of revenue
and disbursement adopted by this government.
But this revenue has been mainly raised by
duties on imports, and such duties, Mr. Hale
considered always fall upon, and are paid by
consumers, be they where they may. A
state then, having ten times the population of
another state pays ten times more revenue.
Wherever the imports go, there the revenue
is collected. With regard to the charge of
txnequal disbursements, the Senator thought it
completely opposed to the whole testimony of
history. "The expenditures of government
are not made in the North, the officers of the
government do not come from the North, nor
are the great contracts made there. What is
it that consumes one half, aye, three fourths
of your revenue, but the army and the navy,
and where is it expended "? Why, where your
Indian wars occur, your Seminole and Creek
wars, in the Southern and not in the Northern
portion of these States."

The various tariffs, too, have been inveighed
against by the Senator from South Carolina,
as oppressive to the South. But this system
of policy has been fastened upon the country
by the force of Southern votes, and originally
against the wishes and interests of the New-
England States. The whole legislation of
this country has been, in fact, under Southern
influence. The Presidents of the United

States have been Southern men. The bench
of the Supreme Court has been filled from
the South. And no man, he said, has done
more to stamp upon our Councils the charac-
ter and features of that section, than the
honorable Senator from South Carolina.

Mr. Hale then referred to the charge that
the abolition societies of the North, although
apparently disowned, were in reality courted
and pampered by the rival factions in those
states. Notoriously said he, these societies
have been, until lately, under the ban of
public opinion. Their presses have been de-
stroyed, their orators mobbed, their meetino-s
invaded ; and it was not till the annexation of
Texas was effected, that the public sentiment
at the North began to lean towards abolition-
ism. But they saw in this measure, a settled
purpose to aggrandize the South at the ex-
pense of Northern rights and feelings, and to
use the power of the general government to
spread the baneful institution of slavery.

The annexation of Texas. Mr. Hale con-
tinued, was eflected in an unconstitutional
manner ; and the rights claimed by that state
to form new slave states out of her territories,
were founded on a contract obtained in fraud,
and consequently void. Congress has a right
to admit states. So far, then, as concerns the
admission of Texas, the compact was bindino-
on the United States, and on Texas. Bu°
Congress has no right to connect with such
admission, a treaty with a foreign nation,
fixing obligations on this government. All
rights then claimed by Texas on the strength
of this treaty Avere without proper founda-
tion.

jNIr. Hale then commented on the proposal
for severer laws for the arrest of fugitive
slaves.

"What will be the effect of such laws?
You come upon an individual, who has been
born and nurtured in the North, owing
allegiance, and entitled to protection there.
You come upon him with an affidavit taken a
thousand miles off, and you seize him. 'Where
is that man's right ? Where is the trial by
jury '? Where is the habeas corpus ? Where
is the protection which the constitution guar-
anties to the nearest citizen living under the
law ] Now, 1 am free to say, once for all
much as I love the Union, much as I reverence
its institutions, fond as are my memories
which cling around its early histories, I would
sacrifice them all to-day, before I would con-
sent that the citizens of my native state should
at one blow be stripped of every right that is
dear to them, and for which their fathers bled
and died.

During the last month, little of intere.st has
taken place in Congress. The House has
been awaiting the action of the Senate on
the question of the admission of California,

538

Congressional Summanj,

[May,

the Senate has apparently awaited the action
of the country. Speeches have been made
for the benefit of constituents, predictions of
speedy dissolution by Southern members, and
incredulous responses on the part of the North.
Meantime four months of the session have
gone by, and little of the large amount of
business on hand has been transacted.

On Thursday, April 4th, the special order
of the day being the resolutions of compro-
mise, submitted by Mr. Bell, and the pending
question thereon being a motion, by Mr. Foote,
to (refer the same to a select committee of
thirteen, Mr. Webster reminded the Senate
of the great delay in the discharge of their
public dutie.s, and thought the time was come,
when, without encroaching on the liberty of
discussion, they might proceed to some action
on the subjects that had so engrossed their
attention. He should endeavor, so far as lay
in his power, to bring this question of the ad-
mission of California per se, to a decision by
the Senate. After that, to take up, and act
upon the territorial bill. He had no wish to
check the liberty of debate ; but he urged the
necessity, instead of keeping all these sub-
jects open and before them, from day to day,
to take up some measures of a practical kind,
and debate on that, until they were ready to
act upon it. With regard to the proposition
of Mr. Foote, he had no objection to coming
to a vote upon it, but it was his opinion that
every man was, by this time, as well inform-
ed upon these general subjects as he could
possibly be after any report from a commit-
tee. He was for acting at once on California,
and then upon the territorial bills reported by
Committees on Territories. He wished this,
for the sake of the satisfaction it would give
the country, and the relief to men's minds.
He wished, too, to enable Congress to go
through with its ordinary duties, and he de-
spaired of any wise, temperate, and just
legislation, until these disturbing causes be
removed. "I wish," sai^r he, " that this
question — brought upon us by the events of
the last two or three years somewhat unex-
pectedly— should be settled. I wish it to be
settled upon the true principles of the consti-
tution of the United States. I want no new
platform. I ask for no concessions upon one
side or the other — no new compromises. The
constitution is enough — broad enough, full
enough, efficient enough ; and if we can bring
ourselves to act with moderation, and temper-
ance, and candor, and liberality, and I will
say — what is chiefly important — with frater-
nal regard and sympathy upon the questions
before us, in the spirit of the constitution, we
are able to rescue the country from its embar-
rassment. We — we who sit here, clothed
with this high authority for a moment — are
able to rescue this country, to relieve it, and

to satisfy the public judgment and the public
feeling of the extreme North and the ex-
treme South, and from ocean to ocean. I be-
lieve it."

Mr. Foote, in reply, objected to taking up
the California bill first. He thought, in case
of the admission of California pe?- se, the non-
slavery party in Congress would adopt the
inaction policy proposed by the administra-
tion. This course of proceeding, he said, is
already zealously advocated by leading Whig
presses in the North. It has, even here, been
openly avowed this session in both houses of
Congress. Pass the California bill, and gen-
tlemen will be heard to cry out that New
Mexico and Deseret can do very well without
government for the present, at least, until
they have population sufficient to entitle them
to demand admittance into the Union as
States. He thought that to carry a suitable
bill for the government of the Territories, es-
pecially without the Wilmot Proviso, would
require all the favorable circumstances that
the forbearance and tactics of its friends could
bring to its support. And he assured Sena-
tors that the admission of California by her-
self, " would awaken a feeling of chagrin, of
irritation, and flaming indignation throughout
the whole South, which in his judgment,
would make all future attempts of adjustment
hopeless, and inevitably bring upon us all the
evils which it has been the generous ambition
of the Senator from Massachusetts to ward off
and prevent."

The next day the same question being be-
fore the Senate, Mr. Clay spoke as follows.
He deplored the mutual distrust, both of honor
and fidelity, which had arisen between parties
during the pre.sent agitation. He did not par-
take of that feeling to the extent that others
did. It had been his anxious desire, from the
first, to see these great questions settled ami-
cably, and harmony and fraternarfeeling restor-
ed to this divided country. Every proposition
oflTered, that had this result in view, he had
hailed with delight. He was, therefore, ready
to vote for the proposition of Mr. Foote,
though far from sanguine as to the result.
For one, he was ready to vote for California-!
either separately, or in conjunction with the
other territories, and with, or without the
boundaries she has marked out for herself.
He thought, in fact, California should have
been admitted on the instant of her ap-
plication. But such had been the oppo-
sition to this measure, that he now believ-
ed the only way to insure her prompt ad-
mission would be its combination in the
same bill with provisions for the government
of the rest of the territories. The accusation
that such a course savored of disrespect,
seemed to him completely imaginary. He
saw no disrespect. What was there incon-

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

539

gruous or improper in apportioning, by one
arrangement, their various governments to the
different territories acquired at the same mo-
ment from Mexico ? Another recommenda-
tion of this proposition was, that we are aim-
ing at a compromise ; and a compromise, he
thought, should settle as many as possible of
the distracting questions before the country.
He doubted the propriety of admitting the bill
for the recovery of fugitives, but in all that
related to California, all that related to gov-
ernments, for the other two territories, and
even, if necessary, the adjustment of the
boundaries' of Texas — though that, bethought,
might as well be left out — all these kindred
subjects should be associated under a common
bill. With these views, he should vote
against the amendment to Mr. Foote's reso-
lution, excepting from the other questions be-
fore the committee on all reference to the sub-
ject of California.

April 8, Mr. Benton continued the debate
on these subjects, as follows :

He was opposed to the joining the question
of the admission of California with any one,
much more with the whole, of the distracting
questions arising out of the slave institutions
of the United States. " California is a State,
and should not be mixed up with anything
below the dignity of a State. She has washed
her hands of slavery at home, and should not
be mixed up with it abroad. She presents
a single application, and should not be coupled
with other subjects. What are these subjects 1
They are," said Mr. Benton, —

'•' 1. The creation of territorial governments
in New Mexico, and in the remaining part of
California.

" 2. The creation of a new State in Texas,
reduction of her boundaries, settlement of her
dispute with New Mexico, and cession of her
surplus territory to the United States.

" 3. Recapture of fugitive slaves.

"4. The suppression of the slave trade in
the District of Columbia.

" 5. Abolition of slavery in the District of
Columbia.

"6. Abolition of slavery in the ports, ar-
senals, navy-yards, and dock-yards of the
United States.

" 7. Abolition of the slave trade between the
States.

" 8. Abolition of slavery between the States.
And a non-enumerated catalogue of oppres-
sions and encroachments upon the South."

He was opposed, the Senator continued, to
this mixture of diverse questions, separately
and collectively.

On the score of general considerations, he
objected to it, because no other State had been
subjected to a like indignity ; because the
subjects coupled with the admission of Cali-

VOL. V. NO. V. NEW SERIES.

fornia were distracting, angry, and threaten-
ing dissolution and secession, while her ap-
plication was conciliatory, national, and prof-
fering increase and strength to the Union j
because every principle of fair legislation re-
quires each measure to stand or fall on its
merits, unaided by stronger measures, unim-
peded by weaker ones ; and because Califor-
nia herself objects to this mixture, by that
provision in her constitution, which says that
"every law passed by the legislature shall
contain but one object."

He objected also to this admixture, Mr.
Benton continued^ from the incongruity of its
ingredients :

1. The government of the two territories
brings up the question of the Wilmot Proviso,
which is unconstitutional in the opinion of
some, inexpedient in the opinion of others,
and both constitutional and expedient in the
opinion of some others. It is an angry and
sectional question. California has freed her-
self from its trammels, by refusing to admit
slavery within her borders. How wrong,
then, to connect her admission with the other
matters concerning those neighboring territo-
ries, which alone can justly come under the
the action of this Proviso !

Moreover, the question of her admission is
clearly constitutional, for Congress has the
expressed power to admit new States. While
the Wilmot Proviso power is only by infer-
ence, and by many members on this floor ab-
solutely denied. Oaths to the Constitution
cannot be compromised, and, therefore, doubt-
ful questions should never be mixed with
those of undisputed constitutionality.

He believed slavery to be extinct in New
Mexico and in all California, and was ready
to vote them governments without provision,
on that subject.

2. Texas, with her large and complex ques-
tion, should equally, with California, object to
this conjunction. They present incongruous
subjects, and large enough each to demand
a separate consideration. The settlement of
the Texas question depends partly on the ac-
tion of that State. It would be Texas, then,
and not the United States, that would decide
upon the admission of California, as well as-
other questions connected therewith by th.e-
resolutions of compromise.

The Texas questions should be adjusted,
should have been, in fact, at the time of her
annexation. He should vote accordingly for
their settlement, but only as a separate and
substantive measure.

3. The fugitive slave bill. This again is a
case in whicn California has no concern, for
she has no slaves to lose, and from her dis-
tance can receive none. He protested, too,
against the dishonor offered to California,, by
mixing up the high question of her admission

540

Cojigressional Summary >

[May,

■with a bill for the arrest of runaway negroes.
There was already before Congress, said Mr,
Bentox, a bill for the recovery of slaves. He
was ready to vote for it, for any thing, in fact,
which would be efficient and satisfactory on
this score. It was the only thing, he thought,
in which the North, as States, had givenjust
cause of complaint to the slave-holding inte-
rest. But he saw, in this body, no disposi-
tion to evade legislating the remedy. He saw
no greater diversity of opinion than in any
ordinary measure before Congress ; no line
dividing North from South, the East from the
West.

4. Suppression of the slave trade in the
■ District of Columbia. Here, again, California

is in no ways especially concerned. It is a
minor question, and not to be put in the bal-
ance against the admission of a State. The
measure is right in itself, and there seems but
one opinion in Congress concerning it. Dur-
ing his thirty years' experience in that body,
he had seen no state of parties in which this
revolting traffic might not have been sup-
pressed.

5, 6, 7, 8. Abolition of slavery in the Dis-
trict of Columbia, abolition of slavery in the
ports, arsenals, navy-yards, and dock-yards of
the United States, abolition of the slave trade
between the States, and abolition of slavery in
the States. None of these questions would
he submit to a committee. He would not

' take them under consideration. The agita-
tion in the South on these subjects was a false
alarm. Congress had never evinced a dispo-
sition to meddle with them. These rights of
the slave-holding interest were guarantied by
the Constitution, and needed no additional
surety of Congressional compromise. Sixty
years' refusal to act, sixty years' disclaimer of
power, is the highest evidence Congress can
give of its determination to abide the Consti-
tution and its duty.

"These are all the specified causes of alarm
to the slave States from any conduct, or ap-
prehended conduct, on the part of Congress, of
which I have heard complaint. I do not
trouble myself with those who have no power
to act — with individuals or societies. Con-
gress is 'the effective power — the representa-
tive of all the States — and of that I speak, and
say, that I know of nothing in its conduct
which can give the slave States any cause for
complaint or alarm."

Undefined complaints there are, the Senator
continued, of aggressions and encroachments,
but for these he^'knew of no foundation. Of-
fensive legislative resolutions there certainly
were, but nothing that in their character amoun-
ted to aggression ' or encroachment. But he
did n't know of forbearance in Congress from
exercising one undoubtedly Constitutional
power, and which might have been used to

the manifest annoyance and aggression of the
South. The slave property of that section,
valued at more than a thousand millions, and
which no other government in the world
would leave untouched, and for the taxation
of which, there were the precedents of 1798
and 1813, this rich source of molestation to
the South, and of profit at the expense of the
South, no Northern member has ever proposed
or hinted at. If, then, Congress refuses to
exercise a right clearly constitutional, and
fraught with mischief and oppression, what
reason have we to imagine a tendency to
measures which will accomplish that purpose
no more surely, and have not the safe ground
of the Constitutition to stand on ?

But Congress does not stop at forbearance,
said Mr. Benton. In the very year that saw
the commencement of the slavery agitation, so
little was Congress affected by abolition socie-
ties and petitions, that it actually increased
the area of slavery, and at the expense of the
Missouri compromise line. The annexation
of the Platte country to Missouri, gained to
that State six new counties carved out of free
soil. Behold Texas ; ceded to Spain, by a
Southern administration in 1819, recovered by
the help of Northern votes in 1844. Look at
those Southern States redeemed from the In-
dian by Northern votes, and the white man
and his slave allowed to go where actually
slavery never existed before !

Mr. Benton then spoke of the objections
raised against the admission of California. It
was urged by her opponents that her State
government had been formed without previous
action of Congress. But eight of the United
States had been admitted in a similar manner,
in a period of sixty years, running back from
the year 1846 to the time of Washington.
There were aliens too, it was said, having a
voice in the adoption of the Constitution of
California. The same objection was raised in
the case of Michigan, but Congress overlooked
the irregularity, for there was no alienism in
its Constitution. Neither is there in that of
California. It is an American Constitution,
and thoroughly republican.

A third objection wa.s, that its population
was not sulficient to entitle it to admission as
a State. But there were 100,000 male adults
in California, and in the usual calculations it
was considered that out of six persons, includ-
ing women and children, there was one male
adult. The 100,000 voters then in California
would correspond to 600,000 inhabitants in
the older States. He supposed that the at-
traction of the sexes was as true a natural
law as the attraction of gravitation, an i Cali-
fornia would soon doubtless have its proper
proportion of women and children. With re-
gard to the territorial extent of California, he
compared it with that of Texas, He main-

1850.]

Congressional Nummary.

541

tained that the boundaries adopted were the
natural limits. Deduct her mountains and
wastes, and her soil adapted to cultivation
was not as extensive as that of Missouri or
Illinois.

Mr. Benton then spoke of the charge
brought up of interference by the administra-
tion. He had no belief that there had been
such interference, and how, if there had been,
could it affect the question of her admission ?
How should the fault of the Executive be al-
lowed to deprive the people of California of
their rights %

In the House of Representatives, March 6,
Mr. Stanley spoke as follows : —

He had heard much, of late, of " encroach-
ments on the South — aggressions on the South."
Some cause there was, he admitted, of com-
plaint, but that the whole North were open to
the sweeping censures cast upon them, he de-
nied. He had watched the times, and it was
now his settled conviction that most of this
hue and cry originated in a malignant wish to
embarrass the administration. The most un-
kind, and improper, and furious, though fee-
ble, aspersions have been cast in a number of
the speeches here, upon the motives of the
President. In most of them, the Whig party
has been fiercely denounced. He believed he
could shew that all this agitation was for
party purposes.

It was as a Northern man with Southern
principles, and by casting the stigma of abo-
lition principles upon the Whigs that Mr. Van
BuREN rode into power. When Mr. Harri-
son was nominated for the Presidency, he,
too, was denounced as an abolitionist. Mr.
Clay was denounced as an abolitionist; and
the only allies of the South were ]\Ir. Van
BuREN and his friends. The hollowness of
all these protestations, the event has fully
shewn. Mr. Stanley Avould not admit that
either of the great parties at the North were
hostile to the South. Some fanatics there are,
but the great body of Northern people he
could not believe were enemies to the Consti-
tution and the Union.

Mr. Stanley thought that the complaints
made by agitators in the South and echoed by
their douglifaced friends in the North, on the
one hand, and the ravings of the fanatical
Wilmot Proviso men on the other hand, pro-
ceeded from a keen relish for party spoils.
By thus spreading their nets, they hoped to
drag in votes from both wings of the country.
In this political game, one of the main points
is the excitement raised concerning the refusal
to surrender fugitive slaves. It is true the
North has behaved badly in this respect, but
have slaves never escaped before to the
Northern States ? Did this difficulty in re-
covering fugitives only commence with Gen-
eral Taylor's administration ? It is certainly

singular that from 1838, when a similar ques-
tion was before Congress, down to General
Taylors election, no effort had been made to
demand additional legislation upon this sub-
ject.

Another reason given us by disunionists, is
the annoyance the South receives from the
agitations of abolitionists, and the abolition
petitions that besiege Congress. But before
the repeal of the " twenty-first rule," Southern
gentlemen said that if that rule should be re-
pealed and these petitions received, the Union
would be dissolved. But the rule was re-
pealed, and still the union holds together.
The petitions were received, and how stands
the fact now ? We have been here, said Mr.
Stanley, more than three months and not a
single abolition petition has been presented.
The fact is, that in this favoured land, our
people from " excess of ease " continually run
into extravagances. When they could not
war against the twenty-first rule, they form
peace societies, societies for the ' rights of
women,' &c. Denunciations only makes
these people fold the cloak of prejudice more
closely around them. Persecution brings
them into notice. Forbearance towards their
follies leaves them powerless.

But complaint is made that the North does
not interfere to stop their aggressions. Who
can silence the fanatic '? New York cannot
quiet her own anti-renters. New York, Mas-
sachusetts, Philadelphia cannot prevent mobs
and destructive riots within their own borders.

Neither are all who are opposed to slavery
disposed to interfere with slavery in the
States. The Quakers in North Carolina, and
elsewhere are opposed to slavery. Their pe-
titions for the adoption of measures to secure
its final extinction have been presented and
received by our own Legislature. And these
men are among our best population, industri-
ous, sober, orderly.

Another " aggression," is that IMassachu-
setts in 1843 passed resolutions recommending
a change in the Constitution of the United
States. But though the Legislature of Massa-
chusetts did wrong in this instance, it does
not follow that while the present constitution
stands, she would interfere with slavery in the
Southern states. If her conduct evinces a
disposition to interfere, it admits also a want
of power under the constitution.

Another Northern " aggression " is found
in the attacks on the slave trade in the Dis-
trict of Columbia. But the.?e attacks are not
by Northern men alone. Southern members
had reported bills against this traffic, and for
himself, he was ready at any time to pass a
law breaking up these miserable establish-
ments carried on under the very eyes of Con-
gress itself.

As regards the abolition of slavery in the

542

Congressional Summary.

[May,

District, no man in his senses could believe
that Congress would ever be guilty of the
folly or the outrage of such interference.
" Such an act would justly be regarded by the
Southern Sates as a declaration of hostility on
the part of the North, and they would act ac-
cordingly "

"Yes," said Mr. Stanley, "the South has
been terribly oppressed ! Out of the sixty
years since the Constitution was framed, the
South has had the Presidents all of the time
except twelve years and one month. We
have had our share of other high offices.
How is it now "? In the midst of this formid-
able invasion of our rights, when the Abo-
litionists are so strong, we have elected a
southern President, who was said to be the
owner of more than two hundred slaves ! and
that, too, against the nominee of the Balti-
more convention, when it was said ' there
•was no slaveholder on their ticket !' "

We have a southern Speaker, with whose
manner of discharging the duties of the chair
I have no complaint to make. And what a
spectacle his election presented ! So strong
"was party feeling with some gentlemen from
the non-slaveholding States, that when the
issue was a northern or a southern Speaker,
they refused to vote for a northern Speaker.
This speaks volumes ; party feelings must al-
ways influence us, must always be felt by the
North and West, and southern votes will
always be wanted.

A majority of the Cabinet are from slave-
holding States. In the Supreme Court we
have five to four. In the army and navy we
have our full share. Of the foreign ministers
we have more than our share. But still "^ Gott's
resolution," or some other northern aggres-
sion, troubles us. Let me record another in-
stance of northern liberality. When General
Harrison died, Mr. Tyler became President.
Mr. Southard, of New Jersey, was chosen
President of the Senate ; he died, and did the
North practise aggression on us 1 Did they
elect a northern President of the Senate '?
No • they elected a distinguished Senator (Mr.
Mangumj from my own state."

Mr. Stanley then alluded to the speeches
of certain agitators on that floor. Harsh and
cruelly uncharitable speeches had been made,
apparently with the only view of wounding
the feelings of the South. Horrible pictures
have been drawn of the miseries and the des-
potism of slavery. The fearful consequences
of disunion have been gloated upon with
apparent delight. And what has been the
effect of men holding aud publishing such
opinions as these ? Emancipation in the
southern States, which was going on daily,
has been completely stopped. Free negroes
voted in North Carolina until the year 183.5.
In one town, where he had lived, out of three

hundred voters, sixty of them were free blacks*
A simple petition, then, to the Court on half^a
sheet of paper, at the request of the master,
alleging that he alone had rendered meritori-
ous services, and the slave was made free.
And now emancipation is a difiicult matter.
Their laws allowed slaves to be emancipated
by will, but not to remain in the State.

" Sir," said Mr. Stanley", " I remember well
when we had negro meeting houses, and
negro preachers, some of whom could read
and write well; but your philanthropists —
those men who would rather look on rivers of
blood than that slavery should be extended
one inch, and have such horror of chains,
shackles and despotism — they sent incendiary
documents among our slaves, exciting them to
insurrection. As an inevitable result, educa-
tion was forbidden. Self-protection required
it— protection for the slaves required it. And
this is another fruit of your sympathy for the
slave ! But we do not deny them religious
instruction. In one town in my district, the
negroes have a clergyman of their own, and
their own church — a Methodist church. I
wish northern gentlemen could see them,
neatly dressed, with cheerful faces, as they
are going to worship. I wish they could
hear their heart-rejoicing songs, when they
sing praises to their Maker. They would
think better of slaveholders and less of Abo-
litionists. Our people regard slaves as pro-
perty, but not as cattle raised for market. I
tell these Abolitionists, you are the men who
have " riveted the chains." But for your
efforts, thousands of slaves would have been
educated and emancipated — would have been
returned to Africa and Liberia, under the in-
fluence of the Christian religion — would have
realized what the psalmist said : ' Ethiopia
shall soon stretch out her hands unto God.'"
With regard to the Wilmot Proviso question,
continued Mr. Stanley, whether constitutional
or unconstitutional, it would be gross injustice
to the South to enact any such measure. He
was opposed to disunion ; the people of his
own State regarded the thought of disunion
with horror. But, if the legislation of the
North should have unmistakeable evidences of
unfriendliness and hostility, they would feel
forced to provide for their own security in
such manner as the world would justify. The
North should remember that all tyrannous
legislation would produce sectional animosi-
ties.

With regard to the charge that the revenue
system of duties on imports imposes undue and
peculiar burdens on the planting interest of
the South, he considered that any tax that the
Government can impose, so far as it operates
on consumption, can only compel the Southern
planter to share in the burden which all con-
sumers have to bear. Nor can this burden be

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

543

to the whole amount of the duty, for the fo-
reign producer must bear his proportion of it,
in the diminished profits of capital. Nor has
the price of Southern produce fallen since such
duties were imposed, while the prices of ar-
ticles of Southern consumption have even sen-
sibly diminished.

Mr. Stanley then spoke of the California
question. It has been pronounced the " test
question," but only by those he believed, who
wished to bring about a dissolution of the Un-
ion. As a Southern he wished her admitted —
the sooner the better. He believed in the great
principle of the right of man to self-govern-
ment. He would not consent to remand her,
for her people were for the most part our own
citizens, and there would be danger in com-
pelling her to form a government without our
aid.

In regard to the matter of territorial govern-
ments, he saw no plan better than that recom-
mended by the President, and should cordially
support it.

In the House of Representatives, April 3,
Mr. M'Clernand, of Illinois, gave notice of his
intention to offer at the prayer time, as a com-
promise to the question of slavery, a bill hav-
ing for its basis the following objects :

1st. The bill provides for the admission of the
State of California into the Union with her con-
stitutional boundaries.

2d- The bill provides for the erection of a Ter-
ritorial Government, to include that part of the
territory of the United States lying south of the
42o north latitude east of the State of California,
north of the 35s north latitude west of the Colorado
and Virgin rivers, and the main easterly branch of
the latter to its source ; thence west of a due north
line to the summit of the mountain range divid-

ing the waters flowing into the Pacific from those
flowing into the Great Basin ; thence west of the
summit of that mountain range to its intersection
with the 42a north latitude. This Government is
styled the Territory of Utah.

3d. The bill provides for the erection of a Terri-
torial Government, including all the residue of the
territory of the United States, acquired by the law
treaty with the Mexican Republic, not included in
the State of California and the Territory of Utah,
more or less, including, of course, the department
of New Me.\ico, with its rightful limits, and not
more. The Territory thus erected, or the Terri-
torial Governments to be formed therefrom, are
provided for by a pledge that they shall be admit-
ted into the Union, with convenient limits, as States
when their population shall be sufficient, and when
they shall have presented a constitution of republi-
can form and asked to be admitted.

4th. The bill provides that, if the State of
of Texas shall consent to and confirm that part of
the southern boundary of the territory of New Mex-
ico, as defined, extending from the intersection of
the 34*^ north latitude with the Rio Grande, upo-
a direct line to the intersection of lOOo of longir
tude west from Greenwich, with the Red river on
the main or Salt Fork thereof, and shall quit claim
all the territories north of said boundary, to the ex-
tent of her claim to the United States ; in that
event certificates of five per cent stock, amounting
in all, to $10,000,000, are to be delivered to Tex-
as by the Secretary of the Treasury of the United
States ; provided that if Texas shall thus reduce her
boundary as claimed by her, such reduction shall
not alter the number of States authorised to be ad-
mitted into the Union without any restriction as to
slavery in the joint resolution for annexing Texas
to the United States ; and provided further, that
if the State of Texas shall not consent to such
reduction, all of the fourth proposition shall be null
and of no effect by intendment or otherwise.

544

Miscellany.

[May,

MISCELLANY.

Minority Report on a proposed Conven-
tion TO Revise the Constitution of
Maryland.

A most important feature of the age in this
country, is the rapid change that is talking
place in the Constitution of the States from
the interference of State Conventions. Con-
ventions are the order of the day ; and are be-
come quite common. The legislative respon-
sibility attaching to a member of the Conven-
tion seems to be somewhat less than that at-
tending a membership in a legislature. A re-
presentative in Convention is supposed to come
more directly from the people. Mr. A., elect-
ed for a Convention, by the people of his dis-
trict, is supposed to be a very different person
from Mr. A. elected to the State Legislature.
The work he has to do, is a work of which he
knows very little : He goes to the Convention
to hear three or four influential persons declare
what changes they think are to be made in the
fundamental laws. These few influential in-
dividuals represent the same party, among the
people, with Mr. A. himself. Of course it
would not do for him to offer any opposition
to his leaders ; and as the new law makers
have it much iheir own way ; if they be law-
yers or demagogues as they usually are, they
will have the skill to frame a Constitution
suited to their own purposes, and that shall
yet have every appearance of liberality and
reform. We conceive that this true effect of a
Convention is not generally understood. That
effect, for the most part, is to throw the law-
making power into the hands of a very few
persons.

We do not mean to impugn the liberality of
those persons who sincerely and rightfully de-
sire to reform the laws of their State ; it cannot
be denied that there is hardly a Constitution,
among tlie entire thirty, which does not de-
mand reformation ; and of all those the most
in need of reformation are perhaps those which
have been lately reformed.

The Report of the minority of the House of
Delegates of Maryland on Constitutional Re-
form argues strongly against the necessity for
assembling a Convention in that State. The
principal features of the bill, presented by the
majority of the same committee, are as fol-
lows : First, it is proposed that the will of the

majority of the people shall be ascertained on
the expediency of a Convention.

That in the event of an affirmative vote, the
Governor shall issue writs of election calling
a Convention to revive the Constitution of the
State.

The basis of representation in the proposed
Convention shall be that of a representative in
the House of Delegates.

The action of the Convention shall be sub-
mitted to the confirmation of the people., and if
approved by a majority vote, shall supersede
theexistin^ Constitution of the State without
further action by the Legislature.

The minority of the committee object that by
this bill, the Legislature assume a power which
does not belong to them ; that the Executive
of the State is commanded by them to issue
his writs of election ; the people are directed
to vote immediately upon the subject ; if they
refuse to vote, those who do vote have given
to them the entire power of establishing the
fundamental laws; moreover, the Treasurer
is directed to pay the daily allowance of the
members. The entire bill, they argue, is an
assumption, by the Legislature of more power
than belongs to it.

The minority of the Committee concede the
point that by the fifty-ninth article of the Con-
stitution of the State of INIaryland, a Constitu-
tion not yet fourteen years old, the power is
conferred, without restiiction, upon the Legis-
lature to alter and change the fundamental
law. And yet, instead of exercising this
power, so explicitly given to them, the Mary-
land legislature wish to have it all referred
back to a Convention.

Admitting that the Constitution of Maryland
needs to be reformed, the method of effecting
this reformation is a matter worlhy of all at-
tention. The Constitution of Maryland confers
an unlimited power of altering the fundamen-
tal laws of that State, upon the Legislature ;
but that body have chosen to deny themselves
the exercise of the power thus conferred upon
them, and to yield it to a Convention, provided
in such a step, they meet the approval of a
majority of the people.

The report of the committee suggesting this
plan will be adopted by a majority ; that ma-
jority of the popular representatives compels

1850.]

Miscellany.

545

the assembling of the people ; we say compels,
for if only a small portion should come to-
gether, as they certainly will, that small por-
tion of the citizens will have called a congre-
gation for altering the fundamental laws of
the State.

The Convention being assembled, will ap-
point by majority., a committee to frame a new
Constitution : the majority of this committee
will frame a Constitution. This Constitution
wil 1 then be submitted to the people, and rati-
fied by a majority.

It cannot escape the eye of a philosophical
observer that there is an evident tendency to
weaken and undermine the powers of the
State sovereignties by throwing, more and
more, the power into the hands of mere ma-
jorities. It will not be required that " two-
tkirds of the people of Maryland should adopt
a new Constitution ; the immediate ends of
the reformers will be sufficientl)' attained if
their laws receive the sanction of the majority
only. They have a particular end in view,
which shall be nameless ; when that end is
accomplished, however excellent it may be,
or however excellent the collateral ends, and
final consequences of the measure, they will
find that they have inflicted a wound upon the
body of their State ; they will find that their
State is less venerable ; less a distinct and
stable member of the Union ; more blended
and lost in the mass of States which surround
it •, less able to resist the sectional and fac-
tious influences which set in upon it from other
States — than it was before they shook the
strong base of time and usage, and the con-
sent of successive generations, to which alone
Constitutions owe their stablity.

It is charged upon us by foreigners, that
our people have an itch of change ; we do not
believe it. A more stable people does not ex-
ist on the face of the globe, or less given to
change than the people of America. That
they are lovers of reform, of genuine, natural
progressive reform, which begins with the
private affairs of the individual and his family,
and extends upwards to the highest depart-
ments of State, we firmly believe ; but that
iXy^Y ^''^ revolutionary we absolutely deny ; if
they were, the United States would be a chaos
of revolutions; there is nothing to prevent
it ; but that the American people are naturally
fond of change, for the sake of change, we do
absolutely, and without hesitation deny for
them. Common sense is their characteristic,
and economy is their rule; and nothing is more
wasteful of the time and money of the people
than unnecessary changes in the fundamental
laws. Every change in a Constitution breaks
up a part of the system of society which
moves under its control; there is time lost and
labor lost. It is not the people, but a few
designing and ambitious law-makers who

make unnecessary changes and persuade the
people of their sincerity.

In regard to these particular changes which
are to be made in the Constitution of IVIary-
land, whether they are necessary or not the
people of that State know better than their
neighbors, and are the only competent judges,
that is not our affair ; we wish only to caution
them against weakening, or taking from the
dignity of their sovereignty, as a distinct and
separate people ; while they go on changing
and changing, until there is nothing strong or
fixed in their law, the grand system of the
Union, the fundamental laws of the Nation,
stand like the rock of ages, gather strength
with time, and wear, to each succeeding gene-
ration, a more awful and unchangeable aspect.
Take care of your State sovereignties; the
faster they change the sooner they will de-
teriorate ; the more they struggle the sooner
they will be submerged.

We subjoin from the columns of the New
York Tribune, on account of the growth and
successful establishment of that journal. In
these days of universal reading, the press has
become a separate estate of the realm. Sen-
sitive to every breath of popular sentiment,
watchful of men and manners, changing with
the shifting hues of the element it lives in, it
is the embodiment of public opinion. In its
the embodiment of public opinion. In its re-
action it exerts an influence that makes it a
feature of the age. Clamorous and petulant
and sectional in feelings and interest, it is ne-
vertheless of easy absorption and reaches in-
stanteously all parts of the social frame. It
puts a girdle round the earth in forty minutes.
Politically, it is a power behind the throne.
But its political influence is the least important
of its prerogatives. Governments, however
conspicuous from the magnitude of their par-
ticular movements, form but a small part of
the actual history of a people. The court and
the camp are only the shadow of the spirit of
the age. It is social life, with its diplomacies
and its battles, deep guile-full diplomacies,
and relentless, dogged battles, that with its
steady current washes out the channels of in-
dividual and national existence. Periodical
literature, with all its inaccuracies and special
pleadings, its hasty judgments and one-sided
views, is the page to which we must look for
this true history. It gives us facts, men and
opinions, the hasty, often correct generaliza-
tions of the day, the national common sense.

Newspaper reading may be the enemy of
scientific depth or theoretic knowledge, but
its wide spreading arrays of facts give the
means of the broadest and most practical ge-
neralization. The indolent mental habits it
favors, may lure a few away from research,
but its interest will awaken thousands out of

546

Miscellany.

[May,

mental lethargy. Its tentacula reach every
man's door and every man's hearth. It is the
social exchange, where all classes and condi-
tions meet and exchange greetings and sym-
pathies. The priest of public opinion, it lives
only in the presence of its god. Its dictation
is still condescending, its homely talk and
blunt advice is only a finer adulation.

Mr. Greeley states that his paper was start-
ed nine years ago, and under most discoura-
ging circumstances. Of scanty means, and
with little pecuniary aid from friends, he had
to encounter the increasing competition of the
daily press of this city. The hazard was
such that nineteen out of every twenty similar
attempts had proved unsuccessful. The cur-
rent expenses, already great, Avere soon to be
increased by the general progress of business,
and the diffusion of the magnetic telegraph.
His first issue, to the amount of five thousand
copies, was with difficulty given away. Be-
fore the end of the year he had a steady daily
sale for more than ten thousand copies.

The expansion and development of his jour-
nal, from a mere register of passing events, to
its present maturity as an expositor of ideas
and principles, rendered necessary an increase
of price. From six cents, the weekly charge
was raised to nine, and ultimately to twelve
cents. The rapid increase of sale was some-
what checked by this, but the falling oif was
slight. In commencing, his subscribers' list
numbered less than a thousand names. His
present regular issue is 15,360 of the daily
paper, 1,680 of the semi-weekly, and 39,720
of the weekly edition, besides a growing
European and large though unsteady California
edition. His first week's expenses were
$525, receipts $92 ; his last week's aggregates
were, expenses $2,446, receipts $3,130; leav-
ing a balance in his favor of $584.

The Tribune is now swelled to more than
double its original size. It is printed in the
quarto form, and contains forty-eight columns
instead of the twenty at the outset. Four of
its pages are devoted to News, Editorials, Li-
terature, &c., the rest to advertisements.

The Editor is fitted by nature and art for a
journalist. His long practice has given him
a nice touch of the public pulse, his argumen-
tation, though not always logical is broad and
clear, and he writes currente calamo and with a
full heart. His style is consequently warm and
genial. It is even dramatic, for it shews the
feeling that prompts the thought. He is really
as the title of his paper imports, a Tribune of
the people, eager to grapple with patrician
wrong or insult, and disposed partly from kind-
ness, and partly from love of popularity, to
see them where none exist. There is little of
dignity in his columns, but his earnestness and
talent always extort respect. He is enthusias-
tic in theories for raising degraded humanity,

and equally warm in his expedients to save
them from miseries and troubles that no legis-
lation or social change, it is to be feared, can
ever reach. Whatever policy may have to do
with particular moves, no one that looks into
his paper can doubt that he is a man who is
in the main sincere, that his sympathies are
with the million, and his heart in the light
place.

The bill, securing the Homestead of a
family from sale on execution, to the value
of $1,000, has finally passed the New York
Legislature. It was objected to by its oppo-
nents on the ground there was no call for it
by laboring men, or men of moderate m.eans,
and that it would '•serve only to protect the
idle, and thriftless, and dishonest. The amount
was also thought too great. But $1,000,
throughout the country, and in small towns
and villages, would no more than meet the
expenses of a decent shelter, with the ordi-
nary comforts of a home, while in the larger
cities it would hardly buy the ground that a
wigwam could cover.

The British minister at Washington, Sir H.
L. Bulwer, has notified our Government rela-
tive to an exhibition of works of industry of
all nations, to be held in London in the
early part of the year 1851. It is to be a
world's fair, held at the great centre of the
world's commerce. An industrial tourna-
ment, where our national ingenuity can tilt
against the exactness of English art, French
taste, German accuracy, and the artistic mind
of the south of Europe.

The exhibition will be divided into four
sections :

1. Raw materials and produce, illustrative
of the natural productions on which human
industry is employed.

2. Machinery for agricultural, manufac-
turing, engineering, and other purposes, and
mechanical inventions, illustrative of the
agents which human ingenuity brings to bear
upon the productions of nature.

3. Manufactures, illustrative of the results
produced by the operation of human industry
upon natural productions.

4. Sculpture, models, and the plastic art
generally, illustrative of the taste and skill
displayed in such application of human in-
dustry.

FRANCE.

The late election to fill the place of the
thirty-one members, expelled in consequence
of the afl'air of June 13th, 1849, have return-
ed ten socialists, and twenty-one of the more
conservative parties. This is a gain of ten
for the government. There was a decided
falling off of the socialist vote in all the De-

1850.]

Miscellamj.

547

partments. That party seems to have aban-
doned the barricade as a mode of revolution,
and to seek the more legitimate means of
party organization and the ballot-box. This
bodes well for the cause of transatlantic free-
dom. In France the rural districts are con-
servative ; it is chiefly in the large cities
that the anarchical element prevails. Let the
agricultural masses, by use, once know their
latent strength, and the reign of street revolu-
tions, with their threadbare heroics, is at an
end. In countries where population presses
on the means of subsistence, there is always
starvation. With starvation there is always
misery and desperation. The cities are the
natural drains of the country, and gather from
all quarters its foul humors. Republicanism in
France, has hitherto been more the writhings
of these diseased parts, than the action of the
healthful system. In the last spasm — the
insurrection of the Red Republicans — the ulcer
■was laid open. Wretches, hardly human,
hiding from the face of men by day, seeking
their prey by night, familiar with crime, and
with despair for their daily bread, dashed out
of their dens and hiding places, and for three
days fought over a city, that, a few years
since, gave laws to Europe. Hurled back.
Red Republicanism, in its sheep's clothing of
socialism, now approaches the legitimate field
of party and organized members. But here,
organized capital and social influence again
meet it and the cry, well known to us, of
proscription for opinion's sake, is heard across
the Atlantic. In the Legislative Assembly,
March 16, M. de Lasteyrie complained of the
publication of a list containing the names
of shopkeepers who voted for socialist candi-
dates, and calling upon the customers of these
tradesmen to give them no farther employ-
ment. It was called an attack upon universal
suffrage, and the Minister of Justice was
urged to prosecute the Assemhlee Nationale
newspaper, in whose columns the article ap-
peared. The government party defended the
course of that journal, and a stormy debate
followed. The true and enduring check to
socialism is to be found in the conservatism
of agricultural labor, and the increasing num-
bers of small proprietors, giving to the many,
and no longer to the few, an interest in stable
laws and government.

RUSSIA,
The Russian Prime Minister — Count Nes-
selrode — has addressed an energetic remon-

strance to the British Government, concerning
the precipitate course of the latter in relation
to its Greek claims. He complained that,
without notice to the powers, who, equally
with England, were guardians of the defence-
less kingdom of Greece, the British fleet had
presented itself at the Pirasus, making an im-
perious demand for the settlement of these
claims. The mediation of France had subse-
quently been accepted, and the Russian Gov-
ernment had no objection to a course that
might lighten the weight of pecuniary de-
mands upon King Otho. But in relation to
the two small islands, claimed by Great Brit-
ain as Protector of the Ionian Islands, but
guarantied originally to Greece by the three
powers, it is no longer a question of money,
but of territory; and the Russian JNlinister
protested in the name of his Government
against any action on the part of France and
England to the exclusion of Russia.

The course of the English Cabinet in this
matter is not easily understood, but it is sig-
nificant of anything but a cordial state of feel-
ing between the English Government and the
northern Autocrat.

HUNGARY.

The enlistment of Hungarian peasants into
the Austrian army, and the degrading of Hun-
garian officers into the Austrian ranks, still
continue. The latter is thought an unsafe
move on the part of that Government. The
superior knowledge of these men, and skill in
their profession, gives them great influence
over the Austrian non-commissioned officers
and privates. They carry with them a
spirit of revolt, that in these days of fra-
ternization may prove a dangerous leaven.
The army is no longer the brute tool of des-
pots.

The sentences of death passed lately by
courts martial upon persons concerned in the
late insurrection, have been commuted to im-
prisonment in irons for terms of twelve and
sixteen years.

Kossuth and the other Hungarian leaders at
Shumla, have been removed, by the order of
the Porte, to the interior of Asia Minor. The
wanderers left their temporary home with
reluctance. Ko.ssuth was accompanied in his
exile by his wife. Turkey again succumbs to
the exactions of the Czar.

548

Critical Notices.

[May,

CRITICAL NOTICES.

Classical Series. Edited by Drs. Schmitz and
ZuMPT. Quinti Curtii Rufi de gestis Alexan-
dri Magni. Philadelphia : Lee & Blanchard.
1849.

This history of the exploits of Alexander by
Quintus Curtius, an author probably contempo-
rary with the first Augustus, begins at the third
book, when Alexander, having gained a victory
on the Granicus, was entering on his career of
Asiatic conquest. It is one of the original authori-
ties for the exploits of that conqueror. It is
written in a free and entertaining style, and re-
quires but a moderate mastery of the Latin lan-
guage for its enjoyment. A few slight deviations
from the clas.sical prose of Cicero and Caesar in
the choice of words, and some loosenesses and in-
accuracies of expression, are hardly sufficient to
degrade this author from the rank of a classic, and
are certainly not a serious objection to his employ-
ment as a school-book. There is, perhaps, no
Latin author easier to read and understand;
.beside that, he has the advantage over primary
school-books of the class of Viri Rotnce, in being
an original, and his work a continuous history.
As a first book for the beginner, in Latin, we hold
him, for these reasons, to be the very best. To
facilitate the use of this history, as a school-book,
the present very neat volume has, appended to
it, an excellent small map of the conquests of
Alexander the Great. The sole objection we
have to find against it, is, that the impression of the
letter press is from worn-out type, pale and painful
to the eyes. For the popularity of a school-book
publishers should have an especial care to make their
letter-press clear and well defined. The quality of
the paper is of much less consequence than the qua-
lity of the printing. It u saving at the wrong
point to economise in the latter department.

The notes in this volume are abundant, and
truly explanatory.

Anastasis. Sacred Drmnatic Dialogue on the
Resurrection of our Savior. The Temptations
of the Wilderness, Baihsheba, and other
Poems. By Thomas Curtis, D. D., original
editor of the Encyclopedia Metropolitana, and
editor throughout of the London Encyclopedia.
New York: Leavitt & Co., 191 Broadway.
1850.

This little work is dedicated to Leonard Woods,
Junr., D. D., the amiable and learned President of
Bowdom College, " in memory," says the author,

" of many hours of affectionate fraternal inter-
course." " I choose verse, because maxims, pre-
cepts, and principles, are thus more readily re-
tained ; because, it may seem odd, but it is true, I
found I could express them more shortly in this
way, than in any other."

The above quotation from Pope is placed by our
author upon his title-page. This volume, how-
ever, contains a number of sonnets : the quota-
tion certainly does not apply to them ; for sonnets
are, perhaps, done into verse for quite other rea-
sons than the one thus assigned ; and few that WQ
have ever read have the virtue of brevity. Nor can
it apply to an " Ode to Pain," which we find in the
same volume, since it were quite impossible that
an ode should be written in prose ; nor to the po-
em of" Bathsheba," which is a very long-drawn his-
tory, with commentary, sentiment and all, attend-
ing in their robes of state. Brevity is not the
characteristic of this author, though the volume
is a small one.

Of the Anastasis, a poem of dialogues, which
occupies some seventy pages of the work, the de-
sign is given by the author, in his introduction, as
a poetic embodiment of the " legal evidence" for
the resurrection of our Savior. He says, that
Bishop Sherlock, while master of the temple, hav-
ing had an audience chiefly composed of lav.'yers,
drew their attention to the legal perfection of the
evidence for our Savior's Resurrection ; and, after-
ward wrote his celebrated tract, " The Trial of
the Witnesses of the Resurrection of Jesus."

Our author, whde holding a parochial charge
happened to have several lawyers, and one a chief
justice, in his audience. It was proposed, in imi-
tation of Bishop Sherlock, to attempt something
similar. The chief justice was requested to sit, as
judge : witnesses, male and female, were induced
to look over the facts in the New Testament, and
counsel was engaged on both sides. The judge,
after a mature examination, pronounced the evi-
dence perfect.

At the suggestion of his friend the judge, our
author undertook to make a sketch of the pro-
ceedings. He says that his prose, with the addi-
tion of some few poetical circumstances, soon
became verse.

It seems a pity that this noble subject had not
been worked out by our author in good, honest
prose ; for the poetic additions, we humbly con-
ceive, rather serve to encumber and retard, than
to advance the argument. For example, in
the first dialogue Joseph of Aramuthea addresses
Pilot in a strain of Eastern adulation, at once
tedious and unbecoming. Pilot, as in honor

1850.]

Critical Notices.

549

bound, replies in very chaotic verse, but with
excessive politeness :

" Noblest Counsellor,
Of a most vi-ayward race, as Romans feel,
My soldier bluntness pardon, of that man.
Awfully mute, despite of power and passion,
Rome's iron sway, and bitterest accusers ;
On my own steel-clad heart how deep impressed,
&.C., &c.."

And again, — in allusion to the Jews, Pilot says,

" Bom with them, how oft
The thirst of blood, and, as with Scythian slaves,
An instinct of rebellion — truckling most
When treated worst, I find. (As 'tis the smiles

[Pilot nods at " smiles" to make italics.']

Of morn, call up from our rank Pontines'; foulest
Most pestilential vapors.) Sir, that Man
Stands yet an inrage on this poor scusorium
Proud, stem, and fimi — my Judge ! the Gods

avert
His being my evil genius," &c.

This is a very buckram Pilot ; a stiff, hombas-
teous fellow ; and his vein is that of Cambyses'
counsellors, at least. Joseph makes reply to him,
in a most elaborate and stiff fashion, with terms of
modern science to boot ;

" Thy princely courtesy on me
The precious gift bestowed, which my own garden.
The cypress corner, stretching to the foot
Of their ' opprobrious hill,' and kindly shading
Its hateful brow forever from my view.
Received. Its base, granitic strata ; deep
Within a splendid tomb kind Nature hallowed ;
The initiatory skill, at least, was hers.

This last line is the very spirit of meekness.
Joseph corrects himself before Pilot. Granitic
strata were unknown in those days. Werner was
not, as yet; nor Milton, whose "opprobrious hill"
is quoted by Joseph : nay, we doubt whether any
knowledge of a " sensorium," unless prophe-
tically, had been granted either to Pilot or Joseph.

But a truce to jesting ; here is a grand and seri-
ous topic, held up by the unfortunate ambition of
one whom nature evidently did not design for a
poet, to be a mark for endless ridicule, and the
inextinguishable laughter of the critics.

Elfreide of Guldal, a Scandinavian Legend ; and
other Poems. By Marks of Barhamville.
New York : D. Appleton & Co. 1850.

This work is copyrighted by the Messrs.
Appleton in New York, and would seem therefore
not to be a reprint. Of the locality or whereabout
of Barhamville we have no knowledge, but we
are led to conclude that, wherever it may be,
there is but one Marks in it; and that, by this
singularity and isolation, he acquires the right
and title to the name of " Marks of Barhamville"
to distinguish him from the other Marks, similarly
isolated in other villages.

The volume before us, beside the poem of
" Elfreide of Guldal," contains also, " Semael,"
" Maia ; a Mask," and, lastly, " Weeds from
Life's Sea Shore ;" — and here is one of the
weeds :

" Thou who readest here — oh, leam that these —
Each of these weeds hath been uptorn — each

one —
From the mysterious soundings of the heart —
To each belongs a tale, which but the depths
From which they come can tell."

These weeds are clearly a specimen of man-
drakes, which, saith the old tradition, on beiirg
torn up by the roots, utter a shriek.

Shriek the first is entitled " The Chrysalis,"
which is an address to a Chrysalis :

And,

■ Yet thou, lone chrysalis."

Lone chrysalis, 'twas pride beguiled."

Now, under favor of poetic liberty, and using
the caution of a critic, we do seriously protest
against addressing a chrysalis at all, or under any
circumstances ; for, it cannot be said of a chrysa-
lis, as it can of a Jew ; hath it not eyes, hath it
not ears, or hath it not a soul ; it hath none of
these. Prospectively, we admit the propriety of
conversing particularly about a chrysalis, as about
to become a butterfly, — one may, indeed, perhaps
address a butterfly, but chrysalises are supposed to
be asleep, and highly unconscious of their own
position or attitude in relation to the universe.

The poem begins :

" I, too, like thee amidst the stour
Of winter's darkest noon was nursed —
Cradled in ice, and rocked in storm ;
Blear lightning, at that hour accursed.
Around was gleaming.
And the night bird, of ominous power.
O'er head was screaming."

A truly remarkable birth for Marks of Barham-
ville, whose chrysalis was thus threatened by the
unfriendly elements.

Nota Bene. An infant is not a chrysalis ; the
comparison must be antedated to birth.

" Shriek" the second is entitled, " The Maniac
Mother," which, from the dreadful circumstances
attending our author in his chrysalis condition,
follows with marked propriety. We forbear a
quotation. The subject is not tit for poetry.

Passing over a succession of" shrieks," more or
less musical in their tone, we touch only upon the
last, which is an address, or ode to La Fayette,
and begins :

" 'Twas Allcghan that first beheld thee

Panoplied 'gainst freedom's foes.
When ascendant fame impelled thee

To the clime where erst she rose.
Where her birth-star proudly gleaming.

Flowered o'er the impurpled West —
There wert thou ; whilst honor beaming.

Lighted on thy gallant crest.

550

Critical Notices.

[May,

There, 'twill be told in future story,
Thou, midst heroes, led the van —

Herald of Columbia's glory —
Envoy of the rights of man."

For a caution to ode writers vi'e have quoted
the above lines. The poet of Barhamville has
assembled in them, and in the rest of this poem,
most of the jingling common places of the English
military ode — the poorest species of the ode, we
take it, and the one in which the fewest have suc-
ceeded in giving any pleasure to the reader.
The muse of our poet is, indeed, a very jay for
borrowmg feathers ; and to pluck all of them from
her wing would leave a very callow tit.

The Seventh Vial; Consisting of Brief Cont-
inents on Various Scriptures. By the author
of Millenial Institutions. Springfield : George
W. Wilson. 1849.

Another of the thousand and one attempts to
adjust the prophecies of the Hebrews to the course
of modern history. We never open one of those
publications without a feeling of regret. No one
of them that we have ever yet seen, evinces an ap-
prehension of the true difficulties of the enigmas
which it attempts to solve. The authors of these
works do not seem ever to have seized the analogy
by which the entire history of a single nation is
made prophetic of that of every other nation of the
same rank and form of government. The historian
who has followed the rise and course of a single
nation, governed by its own institutions, from its
origin to its decline, perceives in it the operation of
a certain order, of a certain law, providential in-
deed, but still an order and a law, else not provi-
dential. And when he makes comparison of this with
the history of some other nation he perceives
the same order and the same law. Thus, aristo-
cratic republics founded upon domestic slavery,
and using certain means for the accumulation of
wealth, have, under providence, a certain rise, pro-
gress, and decline. Nations founded upon caste,
like those of Egypt and of India, have a different
order and decline, with terminauons peculiar to
themselves. The tribes of the Desert have also
their unvarying history ; the Monarchies of Europe
have theirs ; with still stronger analogies. We
say then, that these expounders of prophecy do not
come to their task with the requisite preparation ;
they do not show the requisite learning or philo-
sophical ability ; their point of view is sectarian ;
often superstitious, and for the most part, they
bring less material of knowledge than any other
class of writers, and what knowledge they have
they seldom know how to use : hence the fruitless-
ness, so far, of all their labors. We do not believe
that, with all their toil, they have made any mate-
rial additions to human knowledge.

The Practical German Grammar : or, a Natural
Method of learning to read, write, and speak
the German Language. By Charles Eichhorn.
D. Appleton & Co., New York. 1850.

This is a medium sized volume small octavo,
made up chiefly of e.xemplars in the German lan-

guage, by which the grammatical rules of that
tongue are illustrated and exercised. It is ex-
ceedingly well printed, a rare merit in a work of
this class. The method adopted by its compiler of
carrying on the science and the practise of his
language parallel with each other, we believe to be
the true and only natural one. The latter part of
the volume has selections from the best authors.

Latter Day Pamphlets. Edited by Thomas Car-
lyle. No. 1. The Present Time : and No. 2.
Model Prisons. Phillips, Sampson & Co., 110
Washington Street, Boston. 1850.

Also another edition of the same. By Harper &
Brothers. New York. 1850.

These reprints of Mr. Carlyle's latest works, as
we suppose them to be, are printed in a style very
creditable to the publishers, and superior to the
ordinary cheap re-prints both in paper and in type.

The writing of this truly sublime and original
but often coarse and grotesque author are now
presented to the public in a very elegant, but suffi-
ciently cheap form. Thomas Carlyle has been
called by some fine spoken gentlemen of this day,
a moral charletan, a literary mountebank ; not-
withstanding which opinion, we esteem him to be,
on the whole, as he now writes, not only the most
original and sublime, but the traest, the most
simple minded, and the safest writer of the present
age. He has no term of comparison ; he stands
alone ; the single antagonist of the new born, and
still young and powerful dishonesties of the
present century. Against the swarm that sprang
up from the dragons' teeth of atheism, sown
by the writers of the last century, and
which are beginning, but now, to fight among
themselves for mutual destruction, he wields a
sword of satire as heavy and as sharp as ever
flashed in a mortal hand. Terms of rhetoric fail
in expressing the vigor and the manly sincerity of
this truly great author. He defies eulogy and
scorns it : he asks only attention and a serious
hearing ; and that, notwithstanding the yell of dis-
approbation which we hear rising against him in
certain quarters, he is likely to obtain.

It were a serious and vulgar error to suppose
that this free and '■pirited writer, the truest repre-
sentative of the modern mind, is an enemy of
Liberty and the rights of man ; at least, of that
sole liberty, which is the oflTspring of obedience to
the natural and divine law ; or to those only
' rights' which are not wrongs. To say that this
author is the patron of oppression, and the de-
fender of tyranny betrays but a superficial and
hasty study of him. It is anarchy, license, law-
lessness, vice, fraud, dishonesty, weakness allied
with wickedness and sustaining it ; false philosophy
which pursues the shadow and not the substance ;
purposeles - and frothy benevolence, undistinguish-
ing and feeble beneficence, which robs the deserv-
ing to sustain the vicious and the worthless. — It is
against the.se that he directs his anger. Mr. Car-
lyle is noi the enemy of freedom. Modern demo-
cracy has chosen to forget, that all human crea-
tures are not fully able to govern and take care of
* themselves. The error is so monstrous and so

1850.]

Critical Notices.

551

radical, it is so multiform and all pervading,
in literature, in religion, and generally in every
department and walk of life, that to speak of it
adequately would be to make an universal
criticism of the age. We stand appalled at the
magnitude of the error ; the hand trembles, we
cannot write of it ; the mind is darkened when we
think of it ; the spirit groans under the weight of
it ; and, for the most part, men who distinctly and
clearly recognise it, and prophetically see the
awful consequences, the anarchy, calamity and
social desolation which it is preparing for us in the
remote future, shrink away from the consideration
of it, and yield themselves silently and gloomily
to its irresistible current. Among the thousands
of weak voices, this one, deep, clear and powerful
reaches us, full of warning, of guidance and of
consolation.

Grammar of Arithmetic : or, an Analysis of the
Language of Figures and Science of Numbers.
By Charles Davies, L.L. D., author of a great
number of Mathematical works. New York:
A. S. Barnes & Co. H. W. Derby & Co.,
Cincinnati.

Professor Davies' series of Mathematical works
published by A. S. Barnes & Co., are well known
all over the Union, and need no recommendation
at present. The little work before us is intended
for teachers and advanced scholars exclusively,
and is strictly scientific.

Tea and the Tea Trade. By Gideon Nye, Jun.,
of Canton, China. New York : Press of Hunt's
Merchants' Magazine. 1850.

A very curious pamphlet on the use and benefits
of tea, the impediments to the increase of its con-
sumption, directions for its preparations as a bev-
erage, and suggestions of the moral and economi-
cal results to follow from its more extended use.
A sketch of the history of the tea trade is added, a
view of its statistical progress and present position
in Great Britain and America, and suggestions
showing the advantage of a greater uniformity in
prices. The two articles which compose this
pamphlet are from Hunt's Merchants' Magazine of
January, 1850. The pamphlets were sent to us by
the politeness of the author himself. We can only
give it a brief notice, though we regard the sub-
jects of which it treats to be of the first economical
and diatetic importance. Whether regarded as a
necessary of life, or as an article of commerce, the
leaf of the tea plant takes the lead in the history
of substances which have been the cause of com-
mercial intercourse between nations. It is the in-
centive to industiy of many millions in Eastern
Asia, and conduces to the health and comfort of
many more in Europe and America. The duty
upon tea imported into Great Britain, has reached
the sum of $25,000,000 per annum. This enor-
mous duty upon one of the most necessary and
beneficial articles of foreign commerce is levied
under the mis-called free trade system of Sir Rob-
ert Peel. Our author goes into a calculation to
show that a great injustice i3 inflicted upon China

by the oppressive tax upon her teas, which, by
keeping up the price of teas in Great Britain, turns
the balance of trade against the Chinese, who are
prevented, by that means, from exporting of their
own produce so much as is necessary to pay for
the opium and other articles with which they are
supplied by British merchants.

The duty upon tea in England is a fixed one of
more than fifty cents a pound of our money, upon
all classes of teas alike ; so that those in Eng-
land who use the inferior kinds pay a tax to gov-
ernment of from 2 to 400 per cent. 'The effect of this
inequality is to prevent the extension of the use of
of tea among the inferior classes in Great Britain.
Our author argues very justly for a reduction of
the duty.

In the United States, on the other hand, since
1832, tea has been exempt from duty ; an exemp-
tion which we deem an injustice to the people of
the United States notwithstanding its great popu-
larity. A very large revenue might be easily
raised upon this article without any material reduc-
tion in the quantity imported. Notwithstanding
its salutariness and almost infinite value as a sub-
stitute for spirituous liquors, tea is certainly to be
regarded as an article of luxury, and we cannot
but regard the absence of a duty upon it as an
anomoly and an injustice in our economical system.

Our author shows that a great part of the cost of
tea consists of charges ol transportation with the
cost ofpackage, and an export duty in China of about
3 cents the pound. A moderate duty upon the
article in this country would, perhaps, very soon
have the effect to materially reduce the export duty
in China.

The export duty in China, and the prices of
package, transportation, dealer's profits, (tc., make
an addition of about 10 cents the pound on all
kinds of tea without regard to its value. Thus it
appears that if we buy tea at 20 cents the pound,
we have only one half the value of our money in
tea ; while if we buy it at $1 the pound, we have
nine-tenths of the value in tea ; that is, the higher
the price of the tea, the more intrinsic value we get
for our money ; an argument for neglecting the
inferior qualities, and purchasing always the best
we can afford ; the best kinds, moreover, being
most conducive to health and least liable to have
been adulterated. Our author's very interesting
pamphlet contains, also, important directions
translated from Chinese authors, for making the
infusion of tea, which we commend to the atten-
tion of all householders.

The second part of the pamphlet is a histoiy of
the tea trade, with full tables of statistics wliich
we have no doubt are reliable, as they are taken
from the highest authorities.

The entire pamphlet is well worthy the attention
of statesmen and political economists. Our limits
forbid further quotations.

Hands not Hearts, a Novel, by Janet W. Wil-
kinson. New York : Harper & Brothers.
1850.

This work seems to have been republished by
the Harpers, because it is English. As the author
is a lady, it must be treated with politeness. We
propose, therefore, to say nothing about it.

552

Critical Notices.

[May,

Atheism among the People. By Alphonse De
Lamartine. Boston : Phillips, Sampson & Co.
1850.

We are under obligations to the good taste and
judgment of Messrs. Phillips Sampson & Co., and
of Messrs. Hale and Le Baron, the translators of
the work, for this very choice selection from the
works of Alphonse De Lamartine. The object of
the author is, to show that republicanism, to be a
secure, should be a moral and religious form of
government. Like all others, that we have read,
of this excellent author, it is marred and discolor-
ed with his own personal vanity, as those of
Thomas Carlyle are by vices peculiar to his intel-
lectual temperament. Lamartine has what Car-
lyle has not, liberality of sentiment toward the
people of other nations ; vain and popular though
he is, he is able to appreciate virtue and ability in
every shape. In Carlyle there is a canker of dis-
content ; there is a harshness, a coarseness, a vio-
lence, an egotism, a dogmatism, a conceit of his
men, his views, — a contempt of moderate men, a
scorn of all virtues save his own and his heroes,
a forbidding — often disgusting— literary effrontery,
and pride of understanding. All the faults inci-
dental to literary John Bullism, steeped in the
peculiar conceit of the Goethe school of writers,
we find attending and disfiguring the genius of this
admirable writer, and indicating in him some
unspeakable moral imperfection ; a sore upon the
spirit, an ulcer in the mind, impairing the temper of
the man, depriving him of all grace and courtesy,
democratising his manners, and repelling from him
the sympathy of the more delicate minded class of
readers. M. De Lamartine receives no mercy at
the hands of this universal scourger — this man of
extremes. A proud man, of a strong and over-
bearing will, hates with a peculiar hatred every
trace and symptom of vanity in another ; and,
therefore, Thomas Carlyle hates Alphonse De La-
martine.

Alphonse De Lamartine is a vain man ; but, at
the same time, we hold him to be a great and a
good man, one of the most useful men of this cen-
tury. He saved France from civil war ; he con-
trolled, week after week, by the power of his elo-
quence, the mob of Paris, controllable by no other
power.

He saved France from the guillotine and the
fury of red-republicanism ; in a word, for we
cannot now enter upon his history, M. De Lamar-
tine, vain coxcomb though he be, governed his na-
tion when no other power could govern it ; named
the provisional executive, organized the elections,
organized an army of 500,000, originated and car-
ried out the grandest system of foreign policy that
any nation has ever adopted. For a certain num-
ber of weeks M. De Lamartine was, de facto,
king of the French people, and held by force of
native virtue, the destinies of that great people in
his hands ; he committed but few errors, fewer
than, perhaps, were ever committed by one man in
such a situation ; and when tho iisiiig popularity of
other men swept him from his post, and hi-; ac-
count was surrendered up to the people, so vast
was the balance of good to the credit of his ad-

mmistration, envy sickened at its magnitude, and
could only say, what all men knew, " M. De La-
martine has a great deal of vanity." It is not prob-
able that there will be found in history any ac-
count of so benign, so liberal, so excellent, and for
the time, so powerful a ruler as he was during the
time of his administration ; but his empire was of
necessity a transient one, as it rested on opinion
and crisis. He came in by favor and by virtue,
and not by force. He lacked one element of
greatness — he was unwilling to make himself feared.
M. De Lamartine was a vain man. He wished to
be loved, he could not bear to think that any man
in all France should not love and admire him.
He was too general ; he did not make friends, he
would not make enemies ; and, therefore, his pow-
er passed out of his hands, and his reputation pass-
ed away like a sound swept on by the winds. In
the order of Providence he has filled his place, and
filled it well ; let him have have his statue among
the efirgies of great rulers that have been.

Through the past year M. De Lamartine has
published a monthly journal called " The Coun-
sellor of the People." Each number of this jour-
nal cor.tains an essay by him, on some specific
object of pressing interest to the French people,
and generally political. We have now to look
upon him as a popular author only ; writing upon
topics of general interest to other nations as well
as to his own. Atheism among the people is the
topic before us. It begins as follows :

" I have often asked myself, why am I Repub-
lican ] Why am I the partizan of equitable De-
mocracy organized and established as a good and
a strong Government 1 Why have I a real love
of the People, a love always serious, and some-
times even tender '? What has the People done
for me 1 I was not born in the ranks of the Peo-
ple ; I was born between the high aristocracy and
what was then called the inferior classes, in the
days when tb.ere were classes where are now equal
citizens in various callings. I never starved in the
People's famine ; I never groaned, personally,
iii the People's miseries ; I never sweat with
its sweat ; I never was benumbed with its
cold. Why, then, I repeat it, do I hunger in its
hunger, thirst with its thirst, warm under its sun,
freeze under its cold, grieve under its sorrows'?
Why should I not care for it as little as for that
which passes at the antipodes? turn away my
eyes, close my ears, think of other things, and
wrap myself Vip in that soft, thick gannent of in-
difference and egotism, in which I can shelter my-
self, and indulge my separate personal tastes, with-
out asking whether, below me, in street, garret or
cottage, there is a rich People, or a beggar People,
a religious People, or an atheist People, a People
of idlers or of workers, a People of Helots or of
citizens ?

" And whenever I have thus questioned myself,
I have thus answered myself: — ' I love the People
because I believe in God. For, if I did not be-
lieve in God, what would the People be to me ? I
should enjoy at ease that lucky throw of tiie dice
which chance had turncil up for me, the day of my
birth ; and with a secret, suvage joy, I should say,
, ' So much the worse for the losers ! the world is a

1850.]

Critical Notices,

553

lottery ! woe to the conquered !' ' I cannot, in-
deed, say this, without shame and cruelty, — for,
I repeat it, 1 believe in God,"

The reader will now, perhaps, suppose that the
remainder of the work is intended to establish a
connection between a genuine love of the people
and a belief in God : accordingly, in the second
chapter we find sketched the first or instinctive
faith, called the pantheistic ; after this, the spir-
itual or Christian idea is sketched, and a be-
lief expressed in those higher or moral laws of
the universe, which show the existence of a deity
greater than any merely creative power, or than
that which inspires the universe with animal
life and intelligent force alone. It is in this deity
that the author expresses his belief, as the founda-
tion of a genuine love of the people. He then
touches upon duties ; duty towards God, or relig-
ion ; duties in a family ; duty to the common-
wealth, or rather to humanity at large, which is a
collection of commonwealths, and of which the
individual is, to use his own words, a " miserable
and vanishing fraction," a leaf upon the great
trank of the human race.

Then follows an analysis of modem society, a
condemnation of caste and rank, and then, the idea of
a nation, the idea of the people ; first as they are the
whole nation, and second, a part of that nation,
or what are commonly understood to be the peo-
ple— the indigent and suffering classes of Europe.
In America we admit of no such distinction, we
have but one people. The indigent and suffering
classes in America are not the people, but only an
insignificant part of the population,

M. De Lamartine affirms, that the disposition
of the individual to sacrifice himself for the good of
the many, that is to say, of the people, as they are
called in Europe, namely, the indigent and suffer-
ing classes, can spring from no other principle sav-
ing a belief in God ; that atheism among the peo-
ple individualizes them, makes them selfish and
separates them from the community ; that there-
fore atheism is inconsistent with the existence of a
republic ; in a word, he insists that ideas of gov-
ernment, of the common interest, of universal jus-
tice and humanity, ideas, in short, upon which the
republic is necessarily founded, are divine ideas,
derived directly from a belief, or rather from a
faith, in the personal being of a God ; with such
attributes as those ascribed to Him by the ancient
and modern Christianity.

The remainder of the work is occupied with in-
stances from history and biography illustrating this
grand truth. For our own part, we cordially
agree with M. De Lamartine in all that he affirms
in this pamphlet, and believe, moreover, that, by
his eloquent and sincere exposition of it, he is ren-
dering an inestimable service to the French nation.
In America these things are, for the most part,
well understood.

Heaven's Antidote to the Curse of Labor, or the
Temporal Advantages of the Sabbath, By
John Allan Quinton. With a Prefatory No-
tice bv the Rev. S. H. Tyng, D, D. New
York': Samuel Hueston. 1850.

This work is a defence of the Sabbath, as an

institution for health, and for the preservation of
the morals of the community. The veriest infidel,
with a grain of common sense, can hardly fail to bo
convinced by the arguments and illustrations of the
author of this work, of the necessity of setting by a
portion of time for the rest and refreshment of body
and mind. It is a small, cheap volume, and is
altogether superior in style and utility to the mass
of poor writings ordinarily scattered about by tract
distributors. If the nature of the work were gen-
erally known to the clergy throughout the country,
we believe the publisher could hardly fail to realize
from it a good income.

An Easy Introduction to Spanish Conversation;
Containing all that is necessary to make a
rapid Progress in it; Particularly designed
for persons who have little time to study. By
M. Velazquez De La Cadena, Professor of the
Spanish, Editor of Ollendorfs Spanish Gram-
mar, etc., etc. New York : D. Appleton &
Company. Pliiladelphia : George S. Appleton.

First Book in French. A practical introduction
to Reading, Writing, and Speaking the French
Language. By Norman Finney, A. M.
New York: Huntington & Savage. Hartford :
H. E. Robbms & Co. Cincinnati: H. W,
Derby & Co. 1849.

Messrs. Huntington & Savage publish a series of
works for instruction in French by Professor Pin-
ney. Their plan is the new method of Manesca
adopted by Ollendorf. The publishers have sent us
a printed paper covered with unportant recom-
mendations of this series, from a great number of
professors and teachers of the French Language.

The Geography of the Heavens and Class Book of
Astronomy, accompanied by a Celestial Atlas.
By Elijah H. Burkit, A. M. Revised and
Corrected by O. A. Mitchell, A. M., Director
of the Cincinnati Observatory. New York ;
Huntington &. Savage, 216 Pearl Street.

This small volume has the imprimatur of Prof.
Mitchell, to accompany his beautiful maps of the
Heavens ; it is, therefore, unnecessary to make
auy remarks upon its merits. It is thoroughly
popular.

The Maiden and Married Life of Mary Powell,
afterivards 31istress Milton. Boston : E.
Littell & Co. New York : Stringer & Town-
send,

This charming little story has placed itself upon
daring ground. Anything short of the racy and
delicate spirit which pervades it would have ensured
a failure. The life of Milton is too near us — too
much a matter of tact in every one's knowledge,
to bear much mingling of fiction. Henry Neale,
the English critic and lecturer, wrote a beautiful
little romance founded upon the adventure of the

554

Critical Notices.

[May, 1850.

Italian Incognita ; but it served only for the pages
of a magazine, and could not have sustained itself
as a separate work on its own foundation, like the
one before us.

The mingling of simplicity and acuteness, of
sweetness and wilfulness, in the character of the
heroine, is so natural — the use of the ancient style
so perfectly in keeping with it, and with her day —
that we have, throughout, a feeling of reality. We
almost imagine the pages of her journal to be an
original manuscript retrieved from Time's destruc-
tion by some happy accident ; so skillful is the
author to conceal himself behind the scenes he ex-
hibits.

Sketches of Minesota : the New England of
the West. With Incidents of Travel in that
Territory during the Summer of 1849. By E.
S. Seymour. New York : Harper & Brothers.
1850.

Personal observation and free communication
with the oldest and most intelligent settlers of the
Territory of Minesota have enabled Mr. Sey-
mour to present a series of interesting and reliable
facts which will ensure to his book a ready circu-
lation.

Probably the first obstacle which suggests itself
to the more rapid settlement of this portion of our
country is its high latitude ; notwithstanding
which, its climate is said to compare favorably
with that of New England and Northern New
York. Many circumstances, Mr. Seymour thinks,
tend to modify the temperature, raised during the
summer by the great radiating power of the sand,
wh ch forms a large portion of the soil.

Early frosts, so injurious to vegetation, are rarely
known ; and the cattle are said to suffer less from
cold, possessing a dry coat through the winter,
than in a warmer climate where the winter is more
open, and subject to thaws, rain, and dampness.

The minute details given of the advancement,
and the natural resources of this fertile and beauti-
ful country, afford subject of interest to a large
class of readers. , . , -■•.,,,, , ,

The Wilmingtons. A Novel. By the Author of
Norman's Bridge, Emelia Wyndham. 6jc. 65c.
New York : Harper & Brothers. 1850.

A critical friend, who has read the work, de-
clares that it is a good and readable novel. Its
author has already gained an excellent reputation,
and we have no scruple in mentioning the work
favorably to the novel reading public.

The Four Gospels, arranged as a practical family
commentary, for every day in the year. Edited
with an Introductory Preface, by Stephen H.
TvNG, D, D., Rector of St. George's Church, in
the city of New York. Illustrated with twelve
highly finished steel engravings. New York :
D. Appleton & Co.

Without the slightest reference to the merit or
value of this volume as a religious work, we have
a serious objection to raise against the publishers'
assertion upon the title page, that it is illustrated
with highly finished engra-vings. A work of piety
should be marked from cover to cover with nothing
but the most absolute truth. The engravings are
not highly finished, but are simply third rate, and
executed in a very cheap style ; most of them from
very bad designs ; otherwise, the book is well
enough, well printed, a handsome, substantial vol-
ume.

Gift to the subscribers to Saroni's Musical Times.

We have before us, presented by the courtesy of
the Editor of the Musical Times, an exquisite en-
graving, large size, of the St. Cecilia of Domini-
chino, one of the most beautiful works of art in
existence. This admirable engraved piece is pre-
sented to all who are subscribers to Saroni's
Musical Times. The engravings are not yet all
printed. As soon as the requisite number is ob-
tained they will be distributed to the subscribers.

M Whelpley. Me;

'//^:^z^-^ /;^^

ir.S- SENATOR FROM imw YOKE .

THE

AMERICAN WHIG REVIEW,

No. XXX.

FOR JUNE, 1850

EDITORIAL NOTE.

The conductors of the Whig Review
have heretofore expressed their own opin-
ions, decidedly and without reservation, in
regard to the extension of shivery, and other
questions akin to, and springing out of, it.
Any farther expression on their part would
be merely to repeat what has been already
said, or to fortify their own position with new
arguments. The ground which they have
taken they esteem to be strictly Whig and
constitutional, and therefore intermediate,
and conciliatory, between the extreme posi-
tions of the North and South. The question
of the extension of slavery is simply a con-
troversy between a certain class of property-
holders and the rest of the nation, and tends
to confound all other distinctions of party.
Opinion, on the one side, is arrayed against
interest and opinion on the other, and a
contest is excited in which argument ends
almost of necessity in recrimination. Opin-
ion will not yield when interest does not
compel it, and interest is always ready to
fortify itself with opinion.

That there has been of late a great im-
provement, however, in the public mind, in
regard to the right method of conducting
this dangerous controversy, we have evid-
ence in a prospectus, lately issued by South-
ern representatives. Whig and Democratic,
at Washington, of a new paper to be estab-

lished by them, for the defence of their in-
stitutions and their constitutional rights.
The entire subject is to be thrown open to
discussion, opinions are to be sifted and
controverted, and of course reason and ar-
gument are to take the place of passion and
recrimination.

In view of this marked improvement in
public sentiment, the conductors of the
Whig Review will feel themselves justified
in persevering in the plan which they have
now, for some time, adhered to, of giving
the sentiments and arguments of both sides
in regard to Slavery, without reserve.
They have admitted, and shall continue to
admit, articles from Northern and Southern
pens indifferently, and biogiaphies of
statesmen representing constituencies of
both extremes. No adequate or useful ac-
counts of political actions or opinions can
be given from a merely neutial point of
view. Keeping therefore within the limits
of courtesy, and of the doctrines of the
National Whig Party, the Review will
in future not feel itself bound to ex-
clude sound Whig articles, advocating
the views of either extreme. Our readers
will then have before them a better chart of
public opinion, by which they can mark
out for themselves such a course as may
seem to them to be the right one.

556

Colonization.

[June,

STABILITY AND GEOWTH OF THE REPUBLIC, COLONIZATION

A SURVEY of the ruins of modern Euro-
pean governments, suggests to the thoughts
of an American, considerations full of hope
and of glory for the present and the future
of his own country. These governments
have fallen to ruin for this one reason, says
a certain satirical writer, " that they were
not wise enough ;" that the moral and
intellectual powers set to govern them,
did not know how to accomplish the work ;
that this incapacity had been long a stand-
ing, and a tolerated nuisance. Men of in-
trigue, without ability, without knowledge,
and without virtue, or with forms of ability
knowledge and virtue useless in the man-
agement of public aifairs, had been suffered
to occupy, or forced to occupy, the place of
governors.

" Intellect," says the same writer, " is
born in every century ;" and the nine-
teenth flatters itself upon the power and
quality of its intellect ; but no one, in
America, will ask the question that follows,
' what has become of this intellect.' We
know very well what has become of it :
it is embodied in our powerful laws and
constitutions : it is not a talking, and a lit-
erary intellect, but a silent, effective and
practical intellect ; ruling men and nature
in a way hitherto unexampled.

Twenty-two millions of people, armed,
at peace and industrious ; without King,
aristocracy, or a beaurocracy ! This is
' the fact of modern times.' When there
are mighty consequences, there must be
mio-hty causes ; there must be intellectual
power somewhere, powerful intellectual
centres, to govern a nation of so many
millions of armed men in such a quiet and
successful way.

Amid that chaos of party strife which
makes the passing history of European
nations in our day, we discern the fea-
tures of two opposing principles, so oppo-
site, neither can exist without destroying

the other : one of these the indagtriouSy
economic and democratic spirit, (which is,
alone, the governing principle in America,
and which therefore governs peacefully, and
successfully), and the other a reflection,
or rather, an actual presence of the feudal
monarchy, — once the only ruling idea in
Europe . These two contending principles,
the.se twin passions, lie together, side by
side, and intei-mingled, and continually
striving one with the other for mastery in
the heart of every European.

Democracy striving against monarchy
and aristocracy, in the heart of the man
himself — of the Frenchman, of the Engh'sh-
man ; that is the key to European politics.
There are no more Avars for the succession ;
there are no more crusades, but, every-
where, from end to end of civilized Europe,
in the heart of each citizen a war of opin-
ion, a struggle for change ; and the re™
bellions, emutes, and Chartist insurrections,
are but the signs of this internal strutrgle.
' Shall we have a king, or shall we make
laws for ourselves } Shall we have an here-
ditary aristocracy, or shall we have an aris-
tocracy of nature and of God } The prestige
of our monarchy is gone. With external
trusses and supports we shore up the out-
ward bursting walls of the ancient basilicon.
The monarchy will not serve us : there is
no man who has an authenticated right to
be king : and yet, how glorious the an-
cient monarchy ! how gracious and mag-
nanimous the kingly character ; how it
presides over the people like a divine pres-
ence ; how, like Gods upon earth, kings
walk among men ! The crown, emblematic
of eternity ; the golden, star-adorned circle
of legitimacy ! Happy that people, who
in the old time, unconscious of a new phi-
losophy ; (for in these days, alas, philoso-
phy and science are become kings,) happy
that people who, at ease in their vineyards,
and among their feudal acres, feared God,

1850.]

Colonization.

557

and honored the king ; their's was a lot of
God, a peaceful and benignant fortune.
Our religion, too, — where is it ? we know
not : we have foith that there is a religion
somewhere ; we have faith, we are human ;
we believe that we have a touch of di-
vinity ; we know that we are the heirs of
Heaven : but this damning question, this
doubt of all things, which goes in the train
of our modern philosophy ; this fiery emen-
ation from the laboratory ; this fume of the
dissecting room and the museum ; this
modern science, has rotted the parchment
and melted the seal, and erased the signa-
ture, and the testimony is lost, and the
witnesses are dead, and we are dispoiled
of our inheritance : we have no laws but
such as come to us by the faA'or of God, at
the hour, as the reward of prayer and sup-
plication : we have no religion, save the
aftershiae of Christianity, and such as is
written in the script of nature upon the
face of the universe. Happy, happy peo-
ple wex'e they of old ; wretched, toilsome,
the lot of us of modern days.'

Meanwhile, notwithstanding these lam-
entations and longings after the unrecover-
able past, when it comes to a struggle for
life between the two principles. Democ-
racy invariably triumphs ; the people have
it all their own way. What is called re-
action, is never apparently a retrogression.
The Bastile is not rebuilt : no thought of
such a thing. Paris continues Democratic
even under a monarchy. Governments of
the old form are re-established for an hour,
for a day, for an age, only to be thrown
down with redoubled violence. All appeals
are to the people, — the poorer class, — they
are the acknowledged sovereigns. It is
theirs to choose between monarchy and de-
mocracy.

In America the struggle is finished, and
in all men\s minds, there is a settled feeling
that laws should emanate from the people,
or from the people's representatives. Here
is an end of civil wars ; here, a commu-
nity at peace with itself. There is outlet
for ambition in the bloodless strife of party ;
there is a love of order and a sense of the
dignity of manhood, and of the nature of
public and private rights, which confers up-
on the body of the laws, and upon the gene-
ral structure of society, a stability combined
with a plasticity and flexibility suitable to the
progressive and improving spirit of the age.

Democracy in America is a solid and well
established form of government, not because
of any inherent stability and firmness iu
Democracy itself, but because of the unan-
imity and peaceful acquiescence of the peo-
ple in its decrees. An aristocracy, a con-
stitutional monarchy, or any other form,
were it once agreed upon and adopted, and
acquiesced in, as the great and final fact of
the age, — as very destiny itself — (for in
this light is republican democracy viewed
in America,) might stand as firmly; — no
thanks to the virtue of its founders or its
supporters. A form of government im-
pressed upon the minds and hearts of a peo-
ple is a permanent and indistructable form,
or distructable only by new ideas and mo-
dern opinions, more attractive and amiable
than the old : and on such a foundation
rests American republican Democracy, that
it reigns sole monarch in the pride and af-
fection of the people ; the glory of the pri-
vate man is that he too is no idle member
of the State, but can effectually stretch out
his hand against oppression, and cast a con-
demnatory vote, and fear no consequences ;
or if such a fear crosses him, he will search
out its cause, and will not rest till he has
crushed it. In America the power of the
individual citizen is absolutely unlimited :
whatever of native strength and advantage
he is crowned with, setting aside the ordi-
nary chances which befal human endeavor,
and that medium of good and evil chance,
which it has pleased God to mingle in the
affairs of men, his success and his honor
and his influence will be duly proportioned
to the ability and the strength, (vis-virtus)
that is in him.

If these things are true, the glory and
the power of the nation must become
commensm'ate with its native valor and
strength, and more than that, ' the consum-
mation sighed for by all philosophers,' a
government by nature's aristocracy, a gov-
ernment of the best and strongest, must
finally be here established ; and that too,
will be a government by law, since the best
and the strongest are, under God, the de-
fenders of law.

This then is what we mean by a popular
government, a government where those
only are admitted to the control who can
make the people elect them ; — who can
force the people to elect them, by the ad-
miration and the awe of their ability and

558

Colonization.

[Jiiue,

their virtue, and their supernatural vigor
and foresight. Strong men in the villages
and low hamlets, strongest among the few
that surround them, are chosen by their
peers ; these elect others, better and
more prominent than themselves, and thus
the representative principle is carried out.
Behind all human affairs, and setting
aside the accidents of chance, lies one pre-
dominant and ever ruling principle, upon
which rest laws, usages, and influences ;
and that is the fear and veneration which
we have for those who are, morally speak-
ing, more powerful and far-sighted than
ourselves. Governments, whether mo-
narchic, aristocratic or republican, rest
upon fear and veneration, whose form and
exterior front, ceremonially expressed, we
name religion, — worship. Men adore and
worship virtue and force, but more espe-
cially virtue conjoined with force, under
its various names of Piety, Heioism, and
Statesmanship, — the three kings, — intel-
lectual sovereigns, — which rule all human
affairs, under God, whose representative
on earth they are.

What then is a form of government, if
it is not some particular method of ascer-
taining, of sifting and choosing out among
the rising spirits of the time, those pow-
erful and aspiring intelligences who are
marked by nature and shaped by educa-
tion to become the recipients of authority }
The Constitution ascertains for us the
places and executive forms of power. It
marks out the offices and functions of au-
thority, of its inferior servants and func •
tionaries, necessary to the establishment
of a State, and the preservation of peace
and order. It assigns over to the
people, (as it must do in justice to them,
seeing that it is only living men who can
judge living men,) the business of selecting
and appointing those who shall fill and sat-
isfy the duties of the State. Our ances-
tors ascertained the form and the places
of the state, for they saw it at its birth, and
they alone could cast its horoscope ; but
they could not select the living repre-
sentatives of power for ages to come : it
was a part of their wisdom, enlightened by
a religious regard, that they did not do this,
and even forbade it forever to be done,
and would allow nothing hereditary to
come into the constitution of their state.
They believed only in the aristocracy of

God and the choice of the people ; they
left their government in the the hands of
the two powers ; — strength and virtue in
the one, respect and confidence in the
many. They founded their state for all
futurity upon the veneration of the people,
and the greatness and majesty of those few
who alone are fit, (for the day and for the
hour,) to be the people's representatives.

They left the State in the hands of their
successors, to be increased as they had in-
creased it in its three dimensions, of so-
lidity, durability ^ and extension. In
every dimension of excellence, they trust-
ed it would increase. In solidity, or, in
other words, in its internal organic
strength. The people to be more thorough-
ly bound together, by ties moral and me-
cbanical. By community of sentiments,
interest, and language, by facilities of in-
tercommunication, and of internal com-
merce and exchange. This process of pro-
gress and nationalization, by internal im-
provement, and the steady pacificative and
protective influence of good laws, was in-
tended, by them, to augment that first di-
mension of excellence, internal depth, and
solidity of organization.

For the second dimension named, the
durability of their State, they, no doubt,
trusted to the affections and the veneration
of the people, who would always look back
with reverence to the maxims of the foun-
ders of the Republic : and, still more, to
that invincible attachment which all men
have to institutions, which secure them in
the enjoyment of freedom. They provi-
ded, also, a constitution of government of
which the parts are compensatory, and
operate as so many natural checks and ba-
lances upon each other.

For the third dimension of the greatness
of the State, namely, its superficial exten-
sion, the founders of the Union left no set-
tled maxims, nor any system of policy.
They were too intently occupied with soli-
difying and conferring properties of dura-
tion upon our institutions, to anticipate
the exigencies of territorial extension.

It is not, however, at all difficult to con-
jecture what line of policy would have been
indicated by them, had they chosen to ad-
vise their successors on this point. In the
cession of all the State territories to the
nation, in the treaty of peace with Eng-
land, securing a band of territory across

1850.]

Colonization,

559

the continent, and in the purchase of Lou-
isiana, and of Florida, we have a succes-
sion of acts illustrating the policy which
actuated them. They were ' wise enough'
to accomplish, by negotiation and purchase,
what a certain desperate and witless foction
have lately undertaken to accomplish by
eeizure and invasion.

It is said that we have no colonial policy,
when, at this very time, the entire nation
is agitated by a controversy regarding the
admission of several colonies to the dignity
of States and Territories. A more effec-
tual, though unsystematic, colonization than
ours, the world has never known. It sur-
passes that of all other nations, not only in
its rapidity but in the spirit by which it is
sustained, and in its effects upon the na-
tion at large. To attain a correct under-
standing of our own colonial movements, it
will be necessary to take a rapid survey of
that of other nations, both ancient and
modern.

From a few centres the tribcs'of the
Hellenes spread themselves over, at first,
the Greek islands and promontories, and
gradually the entire shores of the Me-
diterranean and Euxine seas. They
had not a colonial system, but they colon-
ized most effectually. Egypt, in the days
of her military renown had a colonial system ,
strictly so called, and like that of England
in our time, it was chiefly for commer-
cial ends. This was at a time when
Egypt was the great power of the world ;
the civilizer and the conqueror of East
and West. There is reason to believe
that with the early Pharaos the military
colonial was a part of the general system
of State policy. Before the building of
Tyre and Sidon, while the Greeks were as
yet an unknown tribe of Barbarians, be-
fore the Exodus of the Hebrews, before
Rome had become even a village ; the
military trading colonies established by a
series of conquering Pharaos, had planted
the germs of civilization along all the
shores of Europe and Asia. By her colo-
nial system Egypt civilized and subdued
the world, and made all nations tributary
to her trading kings, who drew their
revenues from royal monopolies, from ex-
port and the produce of land. The lines
of Egyptian conquest were the lines of
primeval commercial enterprise, stretching
out in great radii to the Straits of Calpe,

and the Capes of Good Hope and Coro-
mandel. To this first and most gigantic
of all colonial systems, if "wq except that
of England, may be traced the centraliza-
tion of ancient arts, arms, commerce and
religion about the shores of the Meditera-
nean ; giving the early nations that prepar-
ation which they needed to receive in suc-
ceeding centuries the higher and more
positive and ameliorating influences of
Phoenician, Grecian, Roman, Saracenic,
Gallic and English conquest.

We find at the foundation of the political
system, of the Egyptians, the principle of
caste, by which the people were divi-
ded into many orders, the three prin-
cipal orders being the Priesthood, the
Military, and the Industrial classes. The
military ordei's and the Priesthood de-
pended for their subsistence upon the
labors of the inferior castes : their
colonies, like the nation itself, were com-
posed invariably of the three orders : the
military order subdued and intimidated,
while the priests converted and instructed,
and the merchants traded with the people
whom they subdued. We may suppose
the Pharaos to have been impelled by
a three fold motive in extending their con-
quests and detaching their colonies ; first,
to increase their revenues and to enlarge
the commerce of their merchants, by which
they themselves also thrived; second, to
reap for themselves military renown, and
third and lastly to make the worship of
Egypt the common worship of all nations.
Our limits forbid us here from entering
far enough into the subject to show that
commercial intercourse was the leading
and most powerful motive with these
primeval conquerors, and those who in af-
ter ages followed their example.

That the colonial system of Egypt was
not the best nor the most efficient, par-
taking in every particular of the weakness
and corruption of their home economy and
general policy, is evident from the ra-
pidity and ease with which they were sup-
planted by the powers who succeeded them,
and who brought other and more liberal
systems of colonization, with happier and
more enduring institutions.

Next in order, and superior in efficacy,
follows the colonial system of the Phoeni-
cians, whose lines of commercial enterprise
were marked at intervals by the founding

560

Colonization.

[June,

of powerful cities, but who also failed to
perpetuate themselves, because of the in-
curable ferocity and selfishness of their in-
stitutions.

Following fast upon the colonies of
Phoenecia, came those of Hellenic ori-
gin ; the overflow of the cities of the Gre-
cian Archipelago. These were of a peo-
ple essentially clannish and narrow, incap-
able of extending their patriotism beyond
the liberty and gloiy of a state sovereignty.

When the population of a little Grecian
state became excessive, a portion moved
off, taking with them all that was necessary
for the formation of a colony. It was their
custom to seize upon such a portion of the
earth's surface as seemed convenient for
themselves, expelling the original posses-
sors by force and fraud. The shores of
the Mediterranean were dotted with Gre-
cian colonies ; which, soon after their
planting, through the superior genius and
martial prowess of their founders, were
able to subjugate a portion of the territory
which surrounded them, enough and no
more than might serve them for agricultu-
ral purposes. They carried with them
their domestic servants, freedmen and
slaves, who were denied the use of arms.
The aggregate population of the Grecian
cities must have been many millions at the
time of the commencement of the Roman
conquests ; but from the clannish and dem-
ocratic character of their policy, they
were never united in an Empire, even
when their territories were contiguous.
Grecian statesmanship extended only to the
preservation, and if that could be added,
to the domination of a little state or ter-
ritory. Such was the colonial system of
the Hellenic tribes, powerful to extend it-
self, not only from the superior character of
the Greeks themselves, as a people, but
from the naturalness and the unforced
freedom of their system ; their motive
being the enjoyment only of their own
lives and institutions, and not the exten-
sion of an Empire for the increase of royal
revenues or of mercantile wealth. Not-
withstanding the want of an organizing, or
if we may so call it, a nationalizing element
in the Greek character, the power of their
civilization, and superior liberality and in-
telligence, made them effectually the mas-
ters and instructors of the world They
accomplished nothing by any grand system

of conquests. The empire of Alexander
was an empire existing only during the life
of its founder, and rested on the terror of
his name. But this empire, to which so
much more than its real glory and import-
ance has been given by historians, was not
strictly Grecian, and originated in a genius
of which Alexander and his father, Philip,
are the sole exemplars. The political
genius of the Greeks developed and ex-
pended itself wherever it appeared in a
conflict between two parties ; the philo-
sophical or aristocratic, which represented
the oriental element in the Greek charac-
ter, and the popular or democratic, which
as truly, represented the occidental or Eu-
ropean.

In the order of providence, we find the
political energies of the Hellenic people
concentrated and exhausted in the conflict
between these two parties into which every
Grecian city was divided. Out of these
contests arises the political history and
literature of later Greece. The sovereign-
ties differed from each other only by the
greater or less appearance of the aristo-
cratic or democratic parties. If demo-
cracy triumphed, the aristocrat was con-
verted into a demagogue, and demagogy
changed swiftly into tyranny ; and this is
the summary of Grecian political history.

The colonies sympathized, and some-
times formed alliances with each other ;
there was a sympathy of Greek with Greek ;
there was an alliance offensive and defen-
sive among the older cities ; there was even
a confederacy, with a council of States,
the shadow of a nation, but no union ; there
was never at any time, a Grecian Empire
with a law recognized as Grecian.

Rome follows next, and surpasses all her
predecessors ; she, fiist and alone, of an-
cient nations, began to form an Empire by
the extension of a law that should be com-
mon to its members. Little as we know
of the early history of Rome, we are yet
well assured that it began with the union
of many tribes in one city. Nations differ-
ing in language, in customs, and in politi-
cal institutions, but not so far differing as
to be incapable of as.:imilation, were blended
together, by the superior moral power of
some few among them, in a common state
or sovereignty. Thus, at its vei-y birth,
we find the germs of those principles which
afterward made that Power co-extensive

1850,]

Colonization.

561

almost with the human family. There
were no obstructions of caste ; there was
no exclusion through diiference of religious
sentiment. Foreigners were not reckoned
impure, contemptible, or odious, because
they were foreigners. A neighboring tribe,
inferior in force, and intelligence, could be
taken into the city, and allowed to share
the priveleges and responsibilities of the
common sovereignty. There was an aris-
tocracy, but there was not, at the first,
domestic slavery : Aristocracy was sustained
by merit ; Democracy was protected and en-
couraged by the laws ; there was a conflict
between the orders, but it was, comparati-
vely, a humane conflict. Instead of mas-
sacres, there were concessions ; there was a
common law for patrician and plebeian. In
these traits of policy we perceive the uni-
versality of Roman genius, and the ground
of its capacity for empire. To govern all
men, it is necessary first to recognize all as
men.

The colonial system of the Romans was
originally forced upon them by the neces-
sities of their position. Their colonies were
in every instance established for the pro-
tection of a military frontier. A genius
such as theirs, claiming, and justly too, to
have no superior, but to be, by virtue of
its higher principles, the governing power
of the world, extending itself also by com-
merce, and rendering tributary the indus-
try of surrounding nations, while itself main-
tained an armed and neutral attitude, must
either overcome or be overcome : it could
have no fixed boundary, but always amove-
able, inclusive, and enlarging Hmit. About
the military colonies , as about cities of refuge,
gathered all those who fled from the inequali-
ty and oppression of their own laws. Roman
justice and authority carried with it an at-
tractive power ; its genius, though dis-
ciplinary, was, at the same time, equal-
izing and tolerant. Thus, by her colonial
system, and not by occasionally travers-
ing and desolating vast regions, Rome
founded an enduring and ever extending
empire : she colonized all Europe and a
part of Asia, and, colonizing, conquered
it ; and conquering, governed and amelio-
rated the condition of those she conquered.
If a portion of the earth had become Gre-
cian, almost the whole became Roman.
Britain, Gallia, Spain, Greece, the shores
of the Bkck Sea, the eastern shores of

the Mediterranean, the northern coun-
tries of Africa, Asia Minor, and even the
shores of the Caspian were rather gov-
erned than subjugated by the wisdom and
the valor of the universal people ; a people
of all nations, but who, from their very
origin, had the art to draw to themselves
and employ in their magnificent political
system, the genius, and the talent, and the
valor of almost the entire world ; extending
over the nations the privileges and the im-
munities, the laws, customs, manners, lan-
guage and domestic civilization of the
central state, and receiving, in turn, with
equal liberality, all that might flow into
them from other races and intelligences,
and forms of civilization, to blend with
and refine their own. Rome became the
centre of the world : such was the libe-
rality of her genius. The sceptre of her
emperors passed to her Bishops ; and, as
before with laws, so now with religions,
she fused together the human family by the
universality and grandeur of her Christian
doctrine. And now, instead of mihtary
colonies, she began to send out missiona-
ries, colonies of faith ; and thus she made a
second conquest, more enduring than the
first. The sceptre has again passed from
her hands, but the lesson remains with us :
we of the new empire of freedom have all
her universality, and her liberality, and her
justice ; and we have more than that, —
much more, and, doubtless, a career before
us, more glorious and memorable.

Among the nations of modern Europe
who have adopted and carried out a system
of colonization, the most important are
Spain and England ; but in a general view
it will be necessary to include the Nether-
lands, Russia, Portugal, and several of the
States of Germany.

The remote and almost desert regions
of Siberia have been colonized by the
removal of state prisoners eastward; we
find the city of Tobolsk in Siberia com-
posed almost entirely of persons exiled for
political ofiences: in addition to these
Russia has established by the attractive
power, or the direct influence of her
policy, military colonies upon the Black
Sea, which have become seats of com-
merce. The despotism of Russia, how-
ever, has not the universality necessary to
the extension and formation of a solid em-
pire : she is able to subjugate, but not to

562

Colonization*

[June,

govern and civilize in her own manner the
surrounding nations upon whom she ag-
gresses : her empire is an aggregate, bound
about and held together by the iron tire
of despotism, which expands itself during
the heat of conquest, and contracts firmly
upon the included masses in times of
peace : she has government, but not or-
ganization ; she increases in size, but, ex-
cepting at the centre, and with her proper
people, neither in authority nor in respect-
ability. The barbarians tributary to her,
have been always tributary to some one of
the great Eastern powers. It is a law of
barbarian existence, in Asia and in Eastern
Europe, that a tribe shall be the tributary
of an empire, and always to that which is
the nearest and most civilized ; and by this
necessity, and not by any inherent or ac-
quired superiority of policy or government,
the broken masses which compose the Rus-
sian Empire, cohere at the edges, and float
together.

The Dutch people of the low countries,
might be expected, from their occupation
and their derivation, to discover a genius
for colonization By their mercantile en-
terprises they have extended the lines of
their trade slenderly around the surface of
the globe, and we find them through a period
of three centuries, founding merchant colo-
nies in remote seas ; but in no part of the
world have this people increased and occu-
pied the territory which they seized upon,
with an energy or rapidity sufficient to
form a new nation. Estimating their
genius for colonization we find them in the
third rank, inferior to Spain or England ;
inferior even to the Phoenicians, and much
more to the Greeks : If they can be com-
pared with any nation of antiquity in this
respect, it is to the Phoenicians ; not only
in the buccaneer character of their enter-
prises, but the hardness and isolation,
and the deficiency of protecting and gov-
erning power, through which they liave
failed to control effectually, or to assimi-
late with, the nations among whom they
have alighted.

In the second order, as to success in
colonial enterprises, we have to place
the people of Spain and Portugal, whose
expeditions combined the spirit of a cru-
sade, or of a Saracenic invasion with that
of a merchant enterprise ; witness the
conquests and settlements of the Por-

tuguese— on both the shores of the new
continents, where, first among modern
European nations, they succeeded in
planting colonies, which should grow af-
terwards into States, if not equalling, yet
approaching the mother country in num-
bers and in civilization. The crusade is an
enterprise of conquest sanctified by pre-
texts of religion ; it breaks the courage and
destroys the nationality of the people, whom
it subdues. The triumph of a colonial sys-
tem, on the contrary, is to preserve that
which the crusade destroys ; to convert and
ameliorate, but not by violence ; and thus
to raise and organise those whom it subju-
gates, leaving them free in their opinion
and religion, until such time as interest and
reason may prepare them for conversion ;
and the triumph of a true conquest, after
the Roman and English model, is, to
confer upon the conquered people the
freedom and the benefits of the empire.
In both these respects the Spaniards and
the Portuguese have signally failed : their
colonies, established in the two Americas,
have been marked, from their origin to the
present time, with every species and grade
of oppression and extortion, exercised not
only upon the aborigines, whom they en-
slaved and exterminated, but each colony
upon the other, and among themselves.
Their history, and their ill success, their
ferocity at first, and their weakness and ef-
feminacy now, are among the most familiar
traits of history. South America and
Mexico remain, as at first, after three cen-
turies of occupation by Europeans, with
their natural resources undeveloped, and
their populations weak, ill governed and
two thirds uncivilized.

More fortunate in their methods, or ra-
ther in their spontaneity of colonization,
have been the industrious, though narrow-
minded Chinese, whose populous empire is
pouring annually its hundreds of thousands
over all the shores and islands of the Asiatic
seas. In them we discover no organization
or clinging together of separate colonies :
Impelled by the simple instinct of self-pres-
ervation, they move off" like emigrating rats
or lemurs, floating from point to point, and
from island to island, and every where
clinging to the land. They carry neither
government nor arras, but only industry,
and the simplest arts of peace. It is sup-
posed that they will eventually form the

1850.]

Colonization.

563

staple population of the Southern Asiatic
shores and Islands.

Passing by as of less importance the
colonization of the Germans, Danes and
Swedes, that of Germany alone, among
these, in the shape of emigration, having be-
come of late a feature in history, we
come to that of France, which seemed to
have owed its existence more to her ambi-
tion and her jealousy of Spain and Eng-
land, than to any other cause. If England
did any thing, France would be doing the
same ; and, therefore, France has her co-
lonial history ; but it scarcely deserves
a record, having been, so far, wholly
unsuccessful ; at certain times it has be-
come, or has seemed to become, neces-
sary for the government of France to oc-
cupy the attention of her restless and am-
bitious people with planting colonies :
She will send on a sudden, and seize upon
some remote island, or territory, usu-
ally with a view to incommode or intimi-
date her great rival, England. But these
enterprises of hers, begun in impolicy, and
for sinister ends, have terminated with lit-
tle credit to herself ; and it was only in
Canada and the West Indies that her peo-
ple ever succeeded in establishing them-
selves in a condition approaching indepen-
dence of the mother country. A more
wasteful and aimless colonization than the
modern French occupation of Algiers, where,
as in some vast Syrtis, " armies whole have
sunk" with small results, has not its record
in history. France indeed cannot be said
to have a colonial system : as we have al-
ready hinted, it seems necessary that
France should imitate England in coloni-
zing ; but she has not steadiness of hand to
wield a policy so delicate and difficult, and
like the imitator in the fable, wounds her-
self in the attempt.

Last in order, but first in rank, and com-
parable only with that of Rome, follows co-
lonization by the English, a people who con-
trol an empire of which the weightier half
hangs beneath them at the antipodes. The
English minister at the Court of St. James,
with his working parliamentary majority,
wields the destiny of the most civilized people
of Asia, the Hindoos ; while at the same time
he regulates the affairs of the northern third
of North America, and of the wealthiest
islands of the West Indies ; commands in-
gress and egress to the Mediterranean,

threatens all the shores of Africa and South
America, opens by force the ports of China,
manages the trade of the Red Sea and Meso-
potamia, dispatches simultaneously north-
ern and southci'n polar expeditions, carries
on armed negotiations with the Arabs of the
Persian Gulf, advances the civilization of
Egypt, protects the Islands of the South
Seas and the fisheries of Nootka Sound,
plants colonies in New Zealand, and in
the new continent of iVustralia ; where even
now there is growing up a new nation of
Anglo-Saxon origin and opinion, and speak-
ing the language of England ; and more
than this, the English Minister, who con-
centrates in his little person, or who should
concentrate in it, the wisdom of all govern-
ments and of all exigencies, controls the
opinion, and through that the commercial
policy of the free empire of America ;
which he wields to his purposes, the pur-
poses of his commerce, his free trade poli-
cy, by which England thinks to make her-
self the dispenser of all benefits, and the
arbiter of all fates. Let us, if possible, by
fixing our eye steadily upon the general
fact, and forgetting, for the time, as of
necessity we must, the immensity of its de-
tails, detect the secret of such wonderful
successes.

The colonial policy of England emanates
from her domestic system ; her domestic
system represents the character of her peo-
ple ; or, rather, of the governing classes of
her people ; of the Norman conquerors of
England, whom we are able to compare
only with the Patricians of Rome to obtain
a right idea of the power that lies in them,
and the erectness and supremacy with
which they were endowed by the Creator.
The Englishman proper, since the days of
William the Conqueror, is the master of
polity ; he is a conqueror, like the Roman ;
he overcomes every thing that is opposed
to him, excepting his younger brother.

Like the Roman, he is a conqueror, but
not a devastator ; a Hastings, not an At-
tilla. He does not wish to be the scourge
but the servant, of God ; there is nothing
in him barbarous or cruel ; he delights in
conferring benefits ; he prunes and subdues,
but he does not destroy ; he governs benign-
ly though, most part, severely and heavily ;
the nations are his gardens which he culti-
vates ; he enjoys his control, as much as
he does his profits ; he takes a pride in his

564

Colonization.

[June,

empire, and wastes his revenue upon
it, as he does upon his park and his stud
of hunters ; Asia is his conservatory,
which he protects, not only for the
tropic elegancies which she yields him,
but for the beauty of her submission.
Such a conqueror is the Englishman, and
such before him, though inferior, was the
Roman.

When we add to this peculiar genius for
government which marks the English, as it
did the Roman conqueror, that singular
liberality of sentiment which accords to all
freedom of opinion, which sedulously I'e-
frains from forcing the conscience or con-
trolling the belief by any but the most
natural and legitimate methods ; and to
this, urbanity in negotiation, a skill in
touching the generosity and moving the
affection of inferiors, we have, in great
part, the secret of the superior success of
Eno-laud in extendiuo- and confirming her
empire ; in rooting her colonies in the soil
of foreign countries, and creating between
the aborigines and their new masters satis-
factory ties of dependence and amity.
Here, doubtless, is at least the moral
secret of her success, and it belongs to the
character of the Englishman, as it does
with equal or even greater force to his
brother, the American. Thus these two
have been the most successful colonizers
and founders of states.

Other advantages, however, it is neces-
sary to take into consideration, — the me-
chanical ingenuity and warlike skill of the
Anglo-Norman, and the courage and in-
domitable firmness of purpose, — the single,
far-sighted, adventurous will, — the placidi-
ty of temper and constitution, adajjting it-
self readily to all climates and circum-
stances,— the love of toil for the glory of
overcoming, as well as for the physical
fruits of toil, — a certain reliance on good
fortune, or rather upon Providence, and a
conviction of being always on the side pro-
tected and f»Tored by the Dispenser of all
good. — To sum all up, we trace the suc-
cesses of English and American coloniza-
tion to those leading moral traits, generosi-
ty, statesman-like prudence, and veneration
for rights and laws, which characterize
the race. In all of these, too, the Roman
though much inferior, may be compared
with his modern representative ; for Rome
was especially the originator of those na-

tional codes by which the civilized world is
governed in modern times.

Under the colonial system of England are
enjbraced a great variety of policies : there
is, for example, first, the treatment of her
immediate dependencies. Ireland was origi-
nally colonized, and continues from time to
time to be colonized directly from Eng-
land; and the government of that depen-
dency has the faults and the imperfections
which attend the entire system of English
colonial government ; for while we claim
for England the merit of the most success-
ful colonization the world has ever known,
excepting our own, it is necessary also to
admit that through a natural obstinacy or
short-sightedness, she adheres too pertina-
ciously to that system of measures which
were unquestionably necessary and salutary
in their operation during the times immedi-
ately following a conquest. When her colo-
nies have grown to the full stature and abili-
ty of a nation, England refuses to accord
them their necessary liberties and interests ;
and there ensues, between the dependency
and the mother country, a series of revolu-
tionary struggles. The English statesman
insists that a colonist shall be always a colo-
nist : and, in this respect, the governing
classes of England compare disadvantage-
ously with those of Rome in her best
days. There is a systematic rigidity, a
pertinacious adherence to the old system,
a resolution not to admit the younger broth-
er to the rights and honors of the elder.
Rome, under her wisest Emperors, incor-
porated her provinces with the Empire,
with such distinctions only, and prece-
dences as the nature of the people them-
selves might render expedient ; and here
the universality of the Roman genius made
itself conspicuous. England, on the con-
trary, carries her aristocratic distinctions
into the general system of the imperial go-
vernment. It may be, nay, it certainly is
a necessity arising out of the form of her
government, which is representative, that
she should do so ; for if one of her colonies
reaches the dignity of an independent state
by growth in numbers, wealth and civiliza-
tion, there is no longer any reason why it
should remain dependant. Discontents
and rebellions follow, seemingly of course,
and the result may be almost with certainty
predicted. This result, however, is predic-
table only when the new state is composed

1850.]

Colo7iization.

565

in great part of colonists from the mother
country, who carry with them the repre-
sentative principle, with ideas of popular
liberty.

It is necessary to make due allowance
for this peculiarity, in judging of the
colonial system of England ; the spirit
of defection goes out with the colonist,
and when he finds himself strong enough,
he begins to claim the prescriptive right of
representation and self-government which
belonged to his ancestors. The English
colonies of the West Indies, by the pecu-
liarity of their situation, and the sparseness
of their white population, governing inferior
masses of enslaved barbarians, offer a se-
cond, and wholly diff"erent, instance ; they,
of necessity, lean upon the mother country,
because of their internal weakness.

Wholly different from the preceding were
the mercantile colonies of eastern Asia. —
Conquests, in the strictest sense of the
term, over a people accustomed to be con-
quered and governed, time out of mind, by
invaders superior to themselves in military
prowess and civil wisdom. The conquests
in India, by the English, were not properly
conquests over the Hindoos themselves, but
over then- Mahomedan masters, whose ex-
pulsion left India devoid of government.
The English merchants and soldiers came
naturally and properly in the place of those
whom they expelled, and were immedi-
ately, and even cheerfully, recognised by
the inhabitants as masters more humane,
and governors more just and efficient than
those who preceded them. Thus the col-
onization of England presents at least three
distinct polices, or forms, of exercising do-
mination. The first of these forms being
that which she has always found most diffi-
cult to exercise, namely, over a colonization
exclusively by her own people, as in Ireland
and North America ; second, over one like
that of the West Indies, where a sparse po-
pulation of her citizens required the constant
protection and support of the mother coun-
try,— and with these she has been more
successful ; and, lastly, over a conquest,
more suitable to the Anglo-Norman
genius, when coming as an invader, she
ejects other invaders, and governs a civi-
lized people expecting and wishing to be
governed by a race superior to themselves.
These are the large and simple phases of
English colonial domination : other forms,

intermediate to these, of a mixed character,
partake, more or less, of the nature of
their types.

Running through'all these lines of policy,
and characterizing, almost without excep-
tion, every act of colonial legislation, we
discover the motive of the home interest ;
the motive which actuates the mercantile
land-holding, and manufacturing, legislator,
who looks upon a colony only as a market
or a factory, whence he may receive produce,
and where he may sell, for his own profit,
the products of English industry. To
the eye of the merchant legislator a colony
is a mine of wealth for the home interest,
and must be governed for the advan-
tage of that interest. The colonial mi-
nistry calculate exchanges ; they adjust
tariffs, and pass acts for the regulation of
colonial commerce, conducive only to the
wealth of England. The offices of the co-
lonies must be filled by younger sons, pen-
nyless nephews, and promising proteges,
who are there to reap wealth and honors,
to make them worthy co-mates of their
more fortunate brothers and cousins at
home. The army is established for the
defence of the colony, and the colony is
governed for the honor and the benefit of
the army : England is everywhere : aU
things must flow back to England ; she
governs like a lord ; she legislates like a
merchant ; and it happens from this cause
as much as from the nature of the represen-
tative system, that no sooner is a colony of
Englishmen strong enough to protect its own
interests, it wishes to shake off" dependence
upon its employer and merchant-master at
home. It wishes to labor and to trade on
its own account. It will not be taxed, nor
have its commerce and manufactures sup-
pressed for the benefit of an English Pluto-
cracy.

Whenever the condition of her conquer-
ed subjects, and the colonists luingled with
them, has been such as to create a full de-
pendence upon the mother country, the
colonial system of England has woiked
better than any hitherto adopted, even by
the wisest nations of antiquity ; not so much
because of the superiority of the motive,
(which, we conceive, has been always, pri-
marily, the maintenance of the home inte-
rest,) as because of the superior liberality of
the Anglo Saxons and the Anglo Normans
themselves 5 — of then- superior liberality and

566

Colonization.

[June^

magnanimity, which tempers a legislation
founded upon trade, with principles and mo-
tives superior to the mere calculations of
gain.

From such considerations the transition
is easy to the American, or free system,
which combines the three principles of
Greek, Roman, and English colonization
and territorial extension ; for, first, the
American colonist, wherever he goes, has
extended over him the protection of the
mother country, — of the imperial free
government of the Union ; and, so far, our
system assimilates to that of Rome under
her mildest Emperors.

And, secondly, our system resembles
that of the more cultivated Greeks, in the
immediate recognition of new colonies as
independent states, — democratic sovereign-
ties ; and, lastly, it combines also the system
of England in its first motive, which is eco-
nomy and the increase of wealth. The
wealth of the nation as a whole, actu-
ates the colonial legislation of America.
But this motive is regulated and kept in
check, and guided in its action, by the irre-
sistible principles of the centre; namely, the
three Inviolabilities, of individual liberty,
of state sovereignty, and the supreme regu-
lative power of the Nation, or Union. Thus
we discover that the colonization of a free
people is a free colonization ; and that a
colonial policy bears every feature of the
system of government from which it ema-
nates. In the features of the child we re-
cognize, in their purity and simplicity, those
of the parent.

Casting an eye then backward over the
history of our nation to its origin, we
find the first colonies planted upon our
shores by an unusual and eccentric move-
ment in the mother country. It had never
been the custom of England to drive away
her citizens for opinion's sake, until the
times of the persecutions, during which
a portion of her inhabitants were driven
from their homes and fire-sides to find
freedom in the wilderness. These colonists
were exiled by a three-fold persecution,
social, religious and political ; they were
oppressed first by an hierarchy, and they
carried with them, in consequence, the
germs of religious freedom : they were con-
temned and ousted from places of social
honor by a haughty aristocracy, and they
took with them, in consequence, an hatred

of hereditary privilege. They were denied
the rights of free government, which they
derived, or aff"ected to derive, from their
ancient constitutions ; and they bore, in
consequence, to their new homes the seeds
of civil and political liberty.

Such, at least, were the ideas of the
major part of those early colonists, who
stamped its present character upon the
American government.

But this was not all ; they took with
them what every Saxon, and every An-
glo-Norman inherits, a feeling of na-
tionality, an idea of empire, and of the
union and oneness of many states, the
highest form of political organization.
Hence the pertinacity with which they
clung to the mother country ; hence their
veneration for the crown, as a perpe-
tual witness and evidence of the union
and oneness of the empire. So powerfully
however, did the old leaven of selfishness,
conjoined with the passion of conquest and
subjugation, work in the minds of the go-
verning classes in England, so blindly and
pertinaciously did they continue their de-
nial of rights to the colonists, — the mer-
cantile spirit looking askance and cove-
tously upon the colonies, as mines of
wealth, created for the benefit of the home
interest, — notwithstanding the strong at-
tachment, notwithstanding intimate rela-
tionship and mutual dependence, separa-
tion became inevitable.

Thus was added, by the experience of
suffering under the oppressions of the home-
government, a new principle to guide the na-
tion in the extension of its empire ; and this
was the principle of the State Sovereignty,
remoteness from the centre detracting no-
thing from the rights of the citizen as the
member of a representative State. In a
word, the platform upon which they stood
while contending for their liberties with the
mother country, became as it naturally
should, the platform of their separate em-
pire.

While this original platform is adhered
to in the extension, as well as the consoli-
dation of the nation, we need entertain no
anxiety for the future. The first provision
in our system, is that the citizen shall not
be deprived of his rights as an elector.
It follows that, if circumstances like those
of a remote colony, have deprived him, for
a time, of the benefits of citizen-ship, and

1850.]

Colonization.

567

of representative government, in his State
and in the Union, he ought, with the great-
est possiWe expedition, to be re-incorporated
with the people, of whom he is a member,
and reinstated in those privileges of which
be has been temporarily deprived. We will
not say, in this connection, that the hin-
drances which have been thrown down before
the new State of California, and have threa-
tened to exclude her from the Union, are un-
constitutional hindrances ; we are not strict
constructionists, in that sense, to believe that
every thing wrong, or impolitic, or injurious,
is therefore unconstitutional ; the constitu-
tion covers only half the ground of national
policy; it says nothing of colonies ; it
meets no exigencies arising upon the ex-
tension of the empire ; it lays down no code
for the government of territories or colo-
nies. The founders of this government
were not prophets in that sense, that they
could legislate without a knowledge of the
circumstances to which their laws should be
applied ; they could give us only rules and
principles. The territory of Louisiana was
not constitutionally annexed, nor was that
of Florida ; neither were Missouri or Mich-
igan constitutionally annexed. Nay , was not
the Constitution itself a measure for which
no constitution had made provision .'' Was
there any provision in the law of the thir-
teen old colonies which permitted them to
cede their nationality to the Union }

The aim of our colonial policy, if we
have any, is, that the general structure of
the government, or rather that the unity
and solidity of our free empire shall not be
impaired by the rapidity of its growth ; that
an equal vitality and intensity of organiza-
tion shall pervade every part of it, even to
remote extremities. Such is the aim,
and for its accomplishment what are the
means }

First, that the native born, or the adopt-
ed citizen shall carry out with him, as an
emigrant and a colonist, a feeling that his
government goes with him ; — a feeling of
security as a subject, and of pride and con-
fidence as a citizen.

Second, that he go, not with the feeling
of a buccaneer, backed and supported by an
ambitious and usurping government, com-
ing at his rear to abet invasion, but with a
confidence that when the time is ripe, and
he and his fellows have occupied the land,
and have made themselves a State, they

may enter again into their nationalities, and
recover their citizenship.

A colony, not many years ago, plant-
ed itself upon the territory of the Mex-
ican Kepublic ; and there, under the
protection of that Republic, acquired the
strength and properties of an indepen-
dent State. It had become desirable
in the natural order of events, that
they should enter again into the body of
the nation from which they were detached.
The process of their annexation was an
easy and an obvious one. Had there been
a colonial system, recognized as a part of
the general policy of our government, the
colony of Texas might have re-entered into
the Union without a war, and perhaps as a
free, and not a slave State ; but, instead of
a colonial system, what had we } On
the one side those who felt distinctly
enough the general movement and tenden-
cy of affairs — who perceived the necessity
and certainty that new territoiies should
be added, and the empire extended, if it
were only by the natural growth of po-
pulation, and who yet proposed to vote
down the order of events, and who, rather
than suffer the addition of a new State, on
the wrong side of their balance, would
have permitted a division of the continent,
and the establishment of independent and
rival republics of the same blood and lan-
guage. They^ indeed, did not want more
territory, — they had no occasion for new
States ; but the moving masses of the peo-
ple had occasion, and did want more terri-
tory and more States, and it was an use-
less endeavor to attempt to vote down their
desires or to make their enterprize and ad-
venturous courage a reason for their exile
and expatriation. There was an injus-
tice in the opposition against which the po-
pular instinct rebelled, and, naturally, it
overleaped the limits of law and reason,
and, in a violent reaction, there arose a
spirit of conquest, a counter-spirit of ag-
gression against this timid and inefficient
policy.

On the other side, therefore, there arose
a party of annexationists — a war party,
who saw well enough the necessary course
and order of events before them ; who felt
the expansive movement, but who, desert-
ed by the light of reason, and leaving be-
hind them the wise example of our fore-
fathers,— the purchasers and negotiators, —

568

Colonization.

[June,

this faction of no principle proclaimed
their purpose to be the conquest and absorp-
tion, of the entire continent. There
were colonies of armed settlers on the
Northern frontier who were to begin
a war with England for the acquisition of
Canada. By the exercise of a wisdom,
which, embodied in one man, represents
the prudence of the American people, that
danger was averted. A second effort saved
us a second time — during the boundary
altercation with England about the North-
ern territories on the Pacific side of the Con-
tinent. In their third attempt, the insti-
gators of war were more successful : —
instead of purchasing from Mexico what
she would freely have sold to us had we
approached her in a spirit of peace and
conciliation, we trod rudely upon her
frontiers, and roused her to a spirit irre-
concilably hostile, and that refused nego-
tiation. Late in the day, after a prodigi-
ous expenditure of blood and treasure, we re-
covered ourselves, and began to see reason
and right again, as before ; and we pur-
chased the territory which our war faction
would have had us seize for a conquest.
And now the same faction are beginning
again, a fourth time, or, rather, a fifth,
— for we recognize them first at the time
of the annexation of Louisiana, — and they
are preparing for us a series of alarming
difficulties ; their aim is universal empire,
by conquest, on the new continent. They
know the movements and desires of the
more restless portion of the people, and
with the bayonet they point the way.
Their designs look not far into the future, —
not beyond an age. They have it in their
power to create causes of war that shall
be inevitable ; and they know that, as a
nation, we recognise no settled colonial
system.

Since the adoption of the Constitution
new territories have been at intervals
added to the Union, until the middle third
of the continent has come under the Go-
vernment of the United States. Im-
mense portions of territory, sufficient
to sustain many millions of population,
are added by each distinct effort, and,
in comparatively short spaces of time are
divided into States, so that, in rather more
than half a century, the extent of inhabi-
table and cultivatable territory has "been in-
creased three fold, and the number of

separate sovereignties risen from thirteen
to thirty. Seventeen new sovereignties
have been added to the Union, each
one able and efficient to represent and
defend itself. But with the increase
is augmented also the power of increase.
The addition of every new state height-
ens the probability of the addition of
others. Every new State, formed upon a
new territory, acts upon the territory be-
yond it, and colonizes another state. The
addition of Texas prepares the way for
the addition of three others, to be formed out
of the territory of Texas. The establish-
ment of a new state on the Pacific, accele-
rates the formation of four more, two in the
Northern, and two in the Southern and
middle parts of the continent. The over-
flow of population from New Mexico, Ca-
lifornia, and the territories of Texas, ra-
pidly Americanizes the Northern sections
of the Mexican Republic. The absorbing
and attractive power of our institutions,
the same power which draws an annual
emigration of half a million from Europe,
which empties entire European villages of
their inhabitants, acts with an effect still
more intense upon the nations that sur-
round us. By this attractive influence,
powerful revolutionai-y parties are genera-
ted in every nation, sufficiently civilized
and contiguous, to feel directly the influ-
ence of our institutions. These revolution-
ary parties desire to have their governments
incorporated with, and under the protection
of the Union. It is idle to protest against
these effects ; the causes are too credita-
ble to ourselves that we should make the
effects a subject of lamentation.

And yet we have no policy of coloniza-
tion, of a just, and peaceful, and benefi-
cial colonization. We refuse to look at
facts. We deny ourselves the benefits of
the future ; or, rushing into the other ex-
treme, we grasp madly at consequences,
and, by unjust means, accelerate the move-
ment of events.

It is reported that an armed expedition,
organized by private adventurers, in league
with a revolutionary portion in the Spanish
Island of Cuba, is, at this moment, land-
ing upon the shores of that island, with a
view to assist in displacing the Cuban
Despotism. The Government of the
United States, it is said, in conformity
with those laws, and with those treaties

1850.]

Colonization.

569

■with foreign nations, by wbich a strict neu-
trality is made a part of the national sys-
tem, have ordered a naval armament to
watch this expedition, and forbid their
landing. This order of the Executive is
struck at by certain Democratic Senators,
and others, as an anti-republican order.
The Executive, we know, cannot lift a
finger toward the execution of a law, with-
out being anti- republican, or, rather, anti-
Democratic : for, it is the maxim of the
war-and-conquest foction, that the best go-
vernment is that which foils oftenest in
the execution of the laws : in their view,
" that is the best government which go-
verns least :" which is as if one should say,
that is the best teacher, who teaches least ;
that is the best mason, who builds least ;
or the best clergyman, who preaches least ;
or the best captain, who commands least
eifectually ; or the best agcnt^ who attends
least to the orders of his employers. By
this creed, the present Executive is like to
prove a very defective agent. The law-
makers, with us, are the people ; — the Ex-
ecutive is their agent ; — the less he attends
to the commands of those who put him in
office, the more pleasing will he be to the
Democratic, or no government, faction.

This movement of adventurers upon the
Island of Cuba has thrown out, into strong
relief, the two colors of the peace and war
parties in America. The party o^ red, the
aggressive faction, are watching eagerly the
progress of events in the South. This
Cuba business is, doubtless, to them, the
first movement in a line of conquest, by
which Mexico and the VA'^est Indies are to
be absorbed.

The chances are greatly in favor of their
success: they have everything to hope,
and nothing to lose : they rely upon two
causes to promote their final success : —
Jirst^ the onward movement of population,
aided by that spirit of military adventure,
and colonization, wbich is congenial to our
people, and which, at certain moments,
takes possession of the entire nation. Im-
agine a series of events like the followina; :
The present, or some future expedition
eifects a landing, and succeeds in coloni-
zing a portion of the Island of Cuba. The
enterprise, managed with prudence, and
well supported at home, could hardly
fail. Then follows a season of hosti-
lities, and a truce between the colonists

and the defenders of the Island. Between
these new colonists and the revolutionary
faction there is a strong sympathy : and,
after a time, matters come to a crisis ; the
Island makes a sudden eifort, and throws
off her allegiance to Spain. Spain, either
of her own motion, or aided and instigated
by England, maintains a furious and de-
structive war upon the Islanders. Ame-
rican volunteers pour in to aid their
countrymen, and share the spoils of vic-
tory. Reverses follow : Spain is too pow-
erful for her rebellious subjects. Citizens of
the United States, taken in arras against the
Government, are executed without trial, or
thrown into dungeons. Then begins the
movement at home . An universal sympathy
with these suffering and adventurous spirits,
moves the national heart. Hostility to Spain,
the oppressor and her allies, becomes a test
of patriotism. In the tempest of popular
enthusiasm all parties are carried away.
Negotiations with Spain are managed in
such a manner, under the excitement of
the time, as rather to hurry on the catas-
trophy 5 and there is danger of a general
war.

Such is the /z/-^;; cause, or line of causes,
upon which the war faction rely for ultimate
success. Of their particular and perso-
nal object in creating the war, and carrying
out the system to which it appertains, it is
unnecessary to speak at present.

The second train of causes upon which
they rely is of a more subtle, and much
less appreciable character. It is a line of
support derived from the attitude taken by
non-extensionist party, and which places
them, and the entire conservative body of
the nation, at the mercy of the war fac-
tion. It begins in the fact that the con-
servative and constitutional peace party
refuse to adopt a colonial system ; where-
as they, the war party, have a system,
and a very effective one it is, and ap-
peals, upon occasion, to the passions of
the people with such force as to overwhelm
all opposition ; and the unjust and destruc-
tive spirit of war has its own way, with
consequences infinitely to be deplored by
the friends of freedom and legitimate pro-
gress.

Ab initio., in the very beginning, the
unconditional opponent of extension begins
by declaring his want of faith in the Consti-
tution itself, and predicts the ruin of the

570

Colonizatio7i.

[June,

nation by its growth. He has no faith
in the expansive power of a Republic.
He has faith in a despotic, but none in a
republican or free expansion. He thinks
that the best government is the least
capable of extending its dominion. He
reverts to the happy thirteen colonies ; —
foi'getful of the fact, that it is found a
much easier task to nationalize thirty than
thirteen, sovereigh and independent States.
Of the tJiirleen the best that could be made
was a rotten federation, and then a feeble
and uncertain Union ; but now, out of the
thirty, is there onr. that can erect itself
against twenty-nine .'' This error is one
which a contemplation of the facts ought
at once to dissipate. It is the power of the
separate sovereignties of which conserva-
tism should be jealous, and over which it
should exert a constant care ; it is they that
are in danger, and not the general system.

Again ; no sooner does it appear that
the tide of population and enterprize is be-
ginning to overflow the boundaries of some
neighbor State, all that we have to offer is
a cry ai-ainst the unmanageable growth of
the empire, — the unwi ddly bulk it has at-
tained, and the formidable dangers that
must ensue from the increased patronage of
the Executive. We throw down the reins
and the steed goes whither he will ; anoth-
er hand snatches them up, and we are
plunged into a war.

Colonization, meanwhile, goes on rapid-
ly. Bands of armed colonists and depre-
dators swarm across the frontier, urged and
encouraged by those who, if they confide but
little in the constitution, trust implicitly to
the timely passions of the people. The
crisis arrives. It becomes necessary to ne-
gotiate for the proti!ction of our citizens,
now colonists upon a hostile territory. We
are at a loss what to do. The people, im-
patient of our hesitation and delay, cry out
for violent measures.

Events move on. The war is begun.
It becomes necessary to sustain the honor
of the nation. Millions have to be voted;
five, ten, fifty, a hundred millions, — army
after army is sent into the field. The ene-
my, who might have been made friends and
allies, with vast loss and great glory are
subdued. The people grow weary of the
war, and begin to calculate the cost. The
war party falls into disrepute, and go out
of office. Negociations ensue for the pur-
chase of territories already conquered. It
is a point of honor and of honesty to pur-
chase them. The empire of freedom was
not founded by robbers. Would it not

HAVE BEEN BETTER TO HAVE PURCHASED
BEFORE THE WAR .''

Of all the systems of policy that have
been pursued for national aggrandizement,
that of the forcible or fraudulent seizure of
the territories and property of others, has
led those who have adopted it the most ra-
pidly to their own destruction. Public im-
morality, originating in the vice and ambi-
tion of a few demagogues, who have the art
to inspire, in the masses, a spirit of vio-
lence, reacts unhappily upon the character
of individuals, leading them to a general
disregard of social and moral obligations.
As a just war elevates and strengthens —
an unjust, aggressive war, depresses and
corrupts, a people. With ourselves, proud
as we are of our strength, and confiding in
the undoubted superiority of our arms, the
temptations to aggression are extraordinary
— the ablest statesmanship of the age has
been exercised in averting the omens of war.
It is not always in the power of a single man
to meet or avert the storm. It is wisdom
to anticipate the danger and prevent its
access by measures of progress and of
conciliation, providing equally for the
growth, education and unity of our future
empire.

VOL. V. NO. TI. NEW SERIES

572

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

SIR JOHN FRANKLIN AND THE ARCTIC EXPEDITIONS.

A PERIOD in every age of the world has
been marked for its spirit of adventure ;
either for the discovery and exploration of
unknown countries, or for the colonization
and settlement of countries previously
known. Curiosity is, doubtless, the first
principle which directs human footsteps to
penetrate where they had not before trod-
den ; to scan the broad ocean in quest of
new lands ; or to explore the depths of the
African continent, and amid her burning
sands, and her pestilential climate, to trace
the sources of her mysterious rivers.
Again, it leads him into the icy regions of
the Poles, to search for a north-west pass-
age across the American continent, or to
reach those imaginary points which are the
centre of the earth's axis. Without o-oinff
back into the earlier periods of history,
when the love of adventure was as great
as in our time, it will suffice to speak of
it, as it has been exhibited to us.

During the present century maritime
and inland adventure, and discovery, have
both been prominent. For several years
the desire was to penetrate into the interior
of Africa, to discover the source of the
river Niger. Mungo Park was the first
adventurer in this field, as well as the first
victim to its deadly climate. Successive
expeditions were sent out by the British
Government, which only terminated with
the late attempt to ascend the Niger, with
steam vessels, from its mouth. To dis-
cover the sources of the Nile has recently
been the object of several expeditions, and
although traced almost to the centre of
the continent, its head waters have not
yet been discovered. A vast region re-
mains unexplored within this continent,
and several adventurers are, at the present
moment, pressing forward to penetrate it.
In another quarter of the globe there has
been a great curiosity to know of what the
centre of the vast island of New Holland

consists, but every attempt to reach it has
foiled. The broad Pacific, with its innu-
merable islands, has been the field for
maritime expeditions for more than two
centuries. In this, the United States has
entered into competition with other nations,
and has contributed her share to the geo-
graphy, and the natural and physical science
of this region. In the Antarctic explora-
tion we have also done our part. Besides
these several portions of the earth, where
the love of adventure and the promotion of
science has led the traveller, there are
others in Africa, Asia, and America, into
which he has also found his way, and
where he has been amply rewarded for his
labors.

During the present century, in fact since
the year 1818, the most remarkable zeal
and interest has been awakened in Eng-
land for explorations in the Arctic regions
of America. They originated, first, in a
desire to solve the problem of the exist-
ence of a north-west passage, second, to
reach the North Pole ; and, finally, when
neither of these ends could be accomplished,
it resolved itself simply in to a desire to mark
out the geographical features of these dreary
and inaccessible solitudes, and to make cer-
tain observations connected with physical
science. The discovery of a north-west
passage, it is known, would possess no
advantage, in a commercial point of view ;
nor would the feat of reaching the axis of
the earth's rotation, be likely to confer a
benefit on mankind ; but every lover of
science, every bold adventurer, in fact,
every one at all imbued with the rational
curiosity of knowing the physical condition
of this inaccessible portion of our globe,
feels a desire to see these questions solved.
The world would rejoice if the daring and
noble Franklin might yet be the means of
solving these problems. No one has done
more to earn these laurels than he, and

1850.]

Arctic Expeclitio7is.

573

though the hope grows fainter, we ardently
pray that he may yet live to attain the
goal of his ambition.

The revival of a desire for polar explo-
ration, niainly with a view to discover a
north-west passage, took place in the years
1817 and 1818. This is said to have
grown up in consequence of accounts
brought home by the whaling ships from the
polar seas, that great changes had taken
place in the fixed ice of those seas, by
which they were suddenly rendered more

navigable than they had been for many
years. " It was supposed that the great
icy barrier, which had during so many
ages obstructed these inaccessible regions,
had, by some revolution of our globe, been
broken up, and dispersed." The ocean
was reported to be full of gigantic iceberga
which had broken loose from their moor-
ings, and it was stated in a Scottish news-
paper, that " a stupendous mountain of
ice had been stranded on one of the Shet-
land Islands."

THE REV. DR. SCORESBY'S ARCTIC VOYAGES.

Among the distinguished polar naviga-
tors of the present century whose voyages
and explorations in those regions have
made us acquainted with new lands, and
who have made valuable contributions to
physical science, the name of Captain
(now the Reverend Dr.) Scoresby, should
be first mentioned. This gentleman was
enwacred in the Greenland whale fishery
for upwards of twenty years, and as early
as 1806, approached nearer the pole than
any known navigator at that time. The
point reached by him was in lat. 81'^ 30 ', or
within 500 miles of the North Pole. In
order to reach this high latitude. Captain
Scoresby found it necessary to cross a
broad barrier, or field of broken ice, which
was accomplished with much labor, when
he came to an open sea, extending north-
wards, as far as the eye could see. A fine
opportunity was now presented for enlarg-
ing the knowlcdo-e of the seas near to the
pole ; but he had been fitted out for other
objects, and he could not forego these for
the sake of the most brilliant speculations
in science.

In subsequent voyages Captain Scoresby
approached the eastern shore of Greenland,
and in the year 1822, when in search
of a new fishing ground, discovered and
traced nearly 400 miles of its coast. The
Dutch had previously seen some points.

but they were involved in much obscurity.

The successful voyages of Captain
Scoresby, and the valuable contributions
made by him, had greatly increased the
desire for polar explorations. " They pos-
sessed," says the United Service Journal,
" more than ordinary claims to public atten-
tion and confidence, as emanating from a
man peculiarly qualified to entertain cor-
rect notions upon the subject. An accu-
rate and scientific observer of the pheno-
mena of these Boreal regions, trained from
infancy in the navigation of the Arctic
seas, it was scarcely possible to find a man
possessing the varied accomplishments of
Mr. Scoresby, and having the actual expe-
rience he possessed."

These events led to the equipping of two
expeditions. One was instructed to seek
for a north-west passage, and, through it,
to penetrate to Behring's Strait. The other,
to attempt to reach the North Pole, and
thence, to make the north' west passage to
the same point mentioned.

We now propose to give a brief account of
the several expeditions sent to thcx^rctic seas
for these two objects, as well as those of ge-
ographical discovery, and the advancement
of science. Space compels us to confine our-
selves simply to the objects and results of
these several expeditions.

CAPTAIN JOHN ROSS'S VOYAGE. 1818.

The ship Isabella, of 385 tons, under the
command of Commander Ross, and the

Alexander, of 252 tons, commanded by
Lieutenant Parry, galled from England,

574

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

on the 18th of April, 1818. Their in-
structions were, to proceed up Davis's
Strait, thence to the head of Baffin's Bay,
examine the three openings, known as
Smith's, Jones's, and Lancaster Sounds, at
the north-west side of that bay, and through
them, make their way westward to Behring's
Strait. On the 17th June the ships
reached Waygat Island, in Baffin 's_ Bay,
where a barrier of ice prevented their far-
ther progress. Mooring the ships to an
iceberg, in company with forty-five whale
ships, they awaited the breaking up of the
ice. They then pressed forward, and in
lat. TSC" came to a part of the coast
which had never before been visited by
navigators, where they found a tribe of
Esquimaux living in the deepest seclusion.
On the 18th of August they passed Wols-
toneholme, and Whale Sounds, which ap-
peared filled with ice. Next day they
came to Smith's Sound, on the extreme
north of the bay. This opening had been
described by Baffin as the most spa-
cious in the whole circle of the coast, and
it was believed that an opening might be
fovmd here. Captain Ross regarded it
with attention, and becoming convinced
that he saw it encompassed by land at the j
distance of eighteen leagues, he passed on.
Following the western coast he next came
to Jones's Sound, at the bottom of which
he thought he discovered a ridge of very
high mountains, stretching nearly across,
united to a less lofty ridge from the oppo-
site side.

The 29th of August had now arrived,
and the sun had set after an uninterrupted
day of 1872 hours, or two months and a
half. The season was passing away, and
the nights became gloomy. They now
approached the last and principal opening,
or that known as Lancaster Sound. This
great inlet, which proved to be forty-five
miles in width, bordered by lofty moun-
tains, was entered by the ships, which as-
cended it for thirty miles. " During the
run, the officers and men crowded the top-
mast, filled with enthusiastic hope, and,
judging that it afforded a much fairer pros-
pect of success than any of those they had so
hastily passed."

"As the evening closed," says Captain
Ross, " the wind died away — the weather be-

came mild and warm, the water much smooth-
er, and the atmosphere clear and serene. The
mountains on each side of the Strait had
beautiful tints of various colors. For the first
time we discovered that the land extended
from the South two-thirds across this apparent
Strait; but the fog, which continually occu-
pied that quarter, obscured its real figure.
During this day, much interest was excited
by the ajipearance of this Strait ; the general
opinion, however, was, that it was only an inlet.
Captain Sabine, who produced Baffin's ac-
count, was of opinion that we were off Lan-
caster Sound, and that there were no hopes of
a passage, until we should arrive at Cumber-
land Strait ; — to use his own words " there
was no indication of a passage, no appearance
of a current, no drift wood, and no swell from
the north-west.

Thus was this important inlet again
overlooked. The expedition continued its
course along the coast southward, passing
two other openings in the land or inlets
closed with ice, after which it returned to
England.

"On the return of Sir John Ross," says the
United Service Journal, " his conclusion re-
garding Lancaster Sound, became the subject of
much skeptical discussion ; and it was urged
by those experienced in naval perspective, that
Sir John Ross had not sufficiently guarded
against a common optical illusion, and that he
had not penetrated deep enough into the Sound
to form any accurate judgment upon the sub-
ject ; for it was urged, that a strait even of
considerable breadth, if winding or varied by
capes, always presents to the spectator the
precise appearance of an enclosed bay. Dis-
cussion soon gathered an element of angry
sentiment, which made it assume a form that
looked very much like persecution ; angry
pamphlets were written on the subject, accu-
sations and recriminations appeared ; and the
zeal which was exhibited upon the occasion
led to the adoption of a line of conduct in some
of the opponents of Sir John's views, which
were not very creditable to them, and we think
scarcely excusable or justifiable by any
amount of zeal in the cause of science or po-
pular enthusiasm."

Lieutenant Parry, second in command,
differed in opinion from Captain Ross as
to the continuity of land across Lancaster
Sound ; and the result was, a new expedi-
tion was determined on which was to be
placed under the command of Lieutenant
(now Sir Edward) Parry.

1850.]

Arctic Expeditiojis.

575

CAPTAIN BUCHAN'S VOYAGE TOWARD THE NORTH POLE. 1818.

The ships forming the expedition to reach
the North Pole, were the Dorothy, Captain
Buchan, and the Trent, Lieutenant Frank-
lin. The former contained 12 officers and
42 seamen ; the latter ] 0 officers and 28
seamen and marines. On board the Trent
was George Back, then Admiralty's mate,
who afterwards accompanied Captain
Franklin in his land expeditions, and other-
wise distinguished himself in the Arctic ex-
peditions.

The expedition left England on the 1 Sth
of April and on the 24th of May, had
reached Cherie Island, in latitude 74o 33'.
Their instructions were to proceed to the
Spitzbergen seas ; pass northward between
that island and Greenland, and make every
effort to reach the North Pole. A few
days after the ships separated, Lieutenant
Franklin proceeded to Magdalena Bay in
Spitzbergen, the place of rendezvous, where
both soon after met. On the 7th of June
they again sailed, and in a few days got be-
set in a floe of ice whei'e they remained for
thirteen days. Escaping from this impri-
sonment, they again sought a shelter in
Fair Haven, and continued there until the
6th of July. Putting to sea once more
with a favorable wind, they pressed forward
but were soon brought up by the pack ice
in latitude SOe 34' N. Soon after a vio-
lent gale came on, and to avoid inevitable
shipwreck, both ships pressed forward into
the broken ice. Here they were exposed
to the heaving and subsiding of great masses
of ice, grinding huge pieces to atoms, and
threatening every moment to crush and
swallow up the ships. " No language,"
says Captain Buchan, " can convey an
adequate idea of the terrific grandeur now

produced by the collision of the ice and the
tempestuous ocean." Such was the noise
occasioned by the crashing of the ice, and
the roar of the wind, that it was with great
difficulty the orders could be heard. Yet
the crew preserved the greatest calmness.

"If ever the fortitude of seamen was fairly
tried," says Captain Buchan, "it was assuredly
not less so, than on this occasion ; and I will
not conceal the pride I felt in witnessing the
bold and decisive tone in which the orders were
issued by the commander of our little vessel
(Franklin) and the promptitude and steadiness
with which thej' were executed by the crew.
Each person instinctively secured his own
hold, and, with his eyes fixed upon the masts,
awaited in breathless anxiety, the moment of
concussion. It soon arrived; the brig cutting
her way through the light ice, came in violent
contact with the main body. In an instant
we all lost our footing, the masts bent with
the impetus, and the cracking timbers from be-
low bespoke a pressure which was calculated
to awaken our serious apprehensions."

Both vessels were so much injured by this
concussion, that when the gale abated and
the pack broke up, they made the best of
their way to Fair Haven ; the Dorothea in
a foundering condition. Lieutenant Frank-
lin was desirous to proceed with the Trent ;
but this was contrary to their instructions.
Besides it would have been unsafe to risk
the whole party again to the danger of
these seas without any means of escape, in
case an accident should befal them, in a
a vessel, too, so much shattered. All
further efforts to prosecute the voyage were
useless, and after the necessary repairs,
both ships set sail for home on the 30th of
August, and on the 22d of October reach-
ed England.

CAPTAIN PARRY'S FIRST VOYAGE. 1819—20.

Much disappointment, as well as dissa-
tisfaction, was manifested on the return of
Captain Ross, without having accomplished
the object for which he was sent ; and as
some of his officers, including Captain
Parry, did not coincide with him in his
opinion of the continuity of laud around

Lancaster Sound, it was determined to
send another expedition immediately to
make a more thorough examination of that
opening, as well those known as Jones's
Sound, and Smith's Sound, farther north.
This expedition was fitted out during the
winter following Captain Ross's return.

576

Arctic Expeditions,

[June,

and placed under the command of Captain
(now Sir Edward) Parry. The ships se-
lected were the Hecla, of 375 tons, and
the Griper, of 180 tons. The latter was
commanded by Lieutenant Hoppner. On
board Captain Parry's ship the Hecla
were Captain (now Colonel) wSabine, Lieu-
tenant (now Sir F. VV.) Beechey, and
Midshipman (now Sir James) Clarke
Ross. All tbese gentlemen have since
distinguished themselves in other Arctic
expeditions, as well as in scientific research-
es of an important character. The whole
complement of officers and men in the two
ships was ninety-four. They were provi-
sioned for two years.

On the 11th of May, 1819, they took
their departure, and on the 3d of July
crossed the Arctic Circle in Davis's Strait,
passing on that day fifty icebergs of large
dimensions. One of these huge masses was
140 feet high, and aground in 120 fathoms,
making altogether a height exceeding 600
feet. On reaching the 73d degree of lati-
tude, opposite Lancaster Sound, Captain
Parry determined to make the attempt to
cross the great barrier of ice which fills the
middle of Baffin's Bay, instead of pursuing
the usual route of the whalers, which was
to follow the eastern coast to the very
head of that bay, and then cross above the
barrier referred to, where the sea is usu-
ally open. Seven days were spent in
sailing and warping, before the ships again
reached the open water, the barrier being
not less than eighty miles in width.

The ship now stood for Lancaster Sound,
and on the 30th of July reached its en-
trance, just one month earlier than Captain
Ross reached it the previous year, when i
he took the usual course around the shores
of Baffin's Bay. This was a most impor-
tant gain for the expedition, as nearly the
whole navigable season was before them.
In approaching the magnificent channel,
which lay before them, bounded by lofty
cliffs, they felt an extraordinary emotion,
aware that the great question, on which
rested the failure or success of the expedi-
tion, would soon be settled. On the 2d of
August soundings were taken, and one
thousand and fifty fathoms by the line,
were found. But owing to the drift.
Captain Parry did not think the depth of
water more than 800 or 900 fathoms.

The sea was open before them, neither ice
nor land being visible to the west.

" It is more easy," says Captain Parry, " to
imagine, than to describe the almost breath-
less anxiety which was now visible in every
countenance, while, as the breeze increased to
a fresh gale, we ran quickly up the Sound.
The mast heads were crowded by the officers
and men during the whole afternoon ; and an
unconcerned observer, if any could have been
unconcerned on such an occasion, would have
been amused by the eagerness with which the
various reports from the crow's nest were re-
ceived, all, however, hitherto favorable to our
most sanguine hopes."

A strong easterly wind having sprung
up on the 3d, they were rapidly carried to
the west. They passed several headlands
and openings on both sides of the channel,
up which they sailed, and to which the
name of Barrow's Strait was afterwards
given. The first day they sailed 150
miles ; the strait was still from forty to
fifty miles in breadth, and no land was
visible westward. They now came to an
opening ten leagues across the mouth, with
no land visible to the south. As their pro-
gress westward was obstructed by the ice,
Parry determined to seek a passage
through this new opening, afterwards called
Prince Regent's Inlet, thinking that it
might lead, and be nearer to the coast of
America, than to follow Barrow's Strait
west. They sailed down this inlet 120
miles, when they were stopped by the ice ;
after which they returned to Barrow's
Strait, which they reached on the 19th of
August. On the 21st, the ice had moved
off", and left an unobstructed passage west-
ward. The ships now pressed on, passing
islands, headlands, and a very broad open-
ing, eight leagues across, up which neither
land nor ice were to be seen. To this was
given the name of Wellington Channel.

Proceeding westward, large and small
islands were passed on the north, while at
the south land was occasionally seen.
Their compass on account of their proxim-
ity to the magnetic pole became useless,
and it was with difficulty, except in clear
weather, that they knew what course they
steered. The needle would now have
pointed to the south. The officers landed
on some of the islands as they passed, and
found traces of the Esquimaux reindeer,

1850/

Arctic Expeditio?is.

577

and musk oxen. The ravines were covered
with luxuriant moss, and other vegetation.

On the 4th of September the ships
reached the 110th degree ofVV. longitude,
which entitled them to the reward of
iE5,000, offered by Parliament to the first
ship's crew that attained this longitude
within the Arctic circle. They now
reached the lai-gest island they had seen,
to which the name of Melville was given,
and worked their way along its shores.
The navigable channel had been daily
growing narrower on account of the ice,
which was firm and compact to the
south, as far as could be seen. Their
progress was now slow, and on the 20th of
September they found themselves com-
pletely beset by fiocs of ice. From the
mast-head one unbroken field of ice pre-
sented itself, which had been there during
the summer. It was now evident that no
further advance could be made that season.
The ships accordingly returned a short dis-
tance, and entered an excellent harbor,
which they had passed. Here they sawed
a channel through the ice for upwards of
two miles, and took up their winter quar-
ters.

The ships were now dismantled, and
housed over. The most improved heating
apparatus was put up ; every attention was
paid to the food, clothing, exercise, and
mental occupation of the crew. A school
was opened. A newspaper called the
North Georgia Gazette was published.
Theatrical performances were got up by
the ofiicers, and every means adopted that
would conduce to the health and comfort
of the crew. In this manner the winter
passed away. The sun disappeared en-
tirely on the 4th of November, and was
not again visible above the horizon until
the 3d B^'ebruary. The animals took their
departure early in the winter, and did not
return until May.

To this desolate spot the expedition was
frozen up for ten months. Early in May,
however, parties were sent out on foot to
explore in various directions, as well as to
seek for game. Musk oxen, deer, hares,
and ptarmigan, (a bird resembling a par-
tridge,) ducks, and geese, became plenty.
The hunters were tolerably successful, and
the addition of fresh provisions was ve/y
acceptable.

The greatest cold experienced was on

the 16th of February, when the thermom-
eter indicated 55'^ below zero. In March
the snow began to melt in the sun, yet, as
late as the last of jNIay, the sea still pre-
sented one unbroken field of ice, from six
to seven feet in thickness. Toward the
end of June the ice began to move in the
offing. On the 5th of July the thermome-
ter stood at 55^, and, on the 17th, at 60''.
On the 1st of August the ships left their
winter harbor, and stood westward, but
after three or four days spent in working
the ships through the floating ice, their
farther progress was arrested by the com-
pact ice, more firm than any they had
seen. It did not appear to have been bro-
ken up for years, and on ascending the
lofty hills which bordered the coast, from
which a distant view was presented, no
boundary was seen to the icy barrier. A
brisk gale from the eastward produced no
effect upon it, which induced Captain
Parry to believe that a large body of land
existed westward, which held it in this
fixed state. To the south a bold coast
was seen which was named Banks' Sound.

The ships remained here till the 15th
August, when seeing no prospect of ad-
vancing farther, it was determined to
escape while the weather was favorable.
They accordingly put them about on the
26th. Barrow's Strait being clear of ice,
they reached Lancaster Sound, and entered
Baffin's Bay in five days. After some
brief delays the ships proceeded to England,
landing their officers at Peterhead on the
30th of October. In this long voyage of
18 months, but one man died out of 94
persons ; the remainder were brought home
in excellent health.

Captain Parry was warmly received on
his arrival, for the results of the expe-
dition had surpassed the expectations
of the most sanguine. " To have sailed
upwards of thirty degrees of longitude be-
yond the point reached by any former na-
vigator,— to have discovered so many new
lands, islands, and bays, — to have estab-
lished the much- contested existence of a
Polar Sea, north of America, — and to
bring back his crew in a sound and vigor-
ous state, were enough to raise his name
above that of any other arctic navigator."
Another expedition was immediately de-
cided on, and the command tendered to
this efficient officer.

578

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

PARRY'S SECOND VOYAGE, 1821-22-23;

The sole object of tins expedition, was
tlie discovery of a north-west passage. The
ships selected for it were the Fury of 377
tons, and the Hecla of 375 tons. Captain
Parry commanded the former and Captain
Lyon the latter vessel. They left England
on the 8th May 1821, accompanied by a
transport, with stores and provisions, which
were to be transhipped on reaching the ice,
where their field of explorations began.

Captain Parry, it will be remembered,
in his first expedition, discovered a broad
channel opening from the southerly side of
Barrow's Strait, since known as Prince
Regent's Inlet. This he believed com-
municated with the American Coast, and
that the lands which lay on either side of
it, were islands. It was also an opinion,
pretty generally believed, that Repulse
Bay had not been thoroughly explored by
Captain Middleton in his attempt to find
a north-west passage in 1741 — that he
might have been deceived by the appear-
ance of the ice and by fogs, and that an
opening might still be found through this
bay. Another point of discussion was a
passage known as Frozen Strait. The ex-
amination of these passages or inlets
were therefore prominent objects of the ex-
pedition.

" After the most anxious consideration,"
says Captain Parry, " I came to the re-
solution of attempting the direct passage
of the Frozen Strait, though, I confess,
not without some apprehension of the risk
I was incurring, and of the serious loss of
time, which, in case of fiiilure, either from
the non-existence of the strait, or from the
insuperable obstacles which its name im-
plies, would thus be inevitably occasioned
by the expedition." Parry was success-
ful in getting through this Strait as well as
in tracing the coast beyond, and of proving
the general correctness of the statements
of Middleton. Much time was lost in sett-
ing these points, after which the expedi-
tion continued its examination of several
inlets and bays to the northward, through
Fox Channel to a broad opening known as
the Strait of the Hecla and Fury. In some
of these inlets there was an appearance of
summer, such as is not common in such

high latitudes. " The vallies were richly clad
with grass and moss, the birds singing,
butterflies and other insects displaying the
most gaudy tints, so that the sailors might
have fancied themselves in some happier
climate, had not the mighty piles of ice in
the Frozen Strait told a different tale."
Hunting parties were sent out which pro-
cured a variety of game.

To follow the narrative of this expedi-
tion, which abounds in events of the most
interesting character, for a polar subject,
would be quite beyond the limits of this
brief sketch. Though much more was ac-
complished in point of distance, in the first
expedition of Parry, than in this, the num-
ber and the variety of incident was greater
in the latter. Esquimaux were seen at
many places, with whom the most friendly
intercourse was held, and the long tedium
of two Arctic winters was much relieved by
the contiguity of villages of these people.
In fact, none of the Arctic navigators have
had so favorable an opportunity to study
the habits of the Esquimaux as Captain
Parry did in this expedition, and the pages
of his narrative are much enlivened by the
interesting accounts of them. As little has
been said in this paper of the natives, it
may not be amiss to quote a short account
of a party which established themselves near
the ships and at whose request Captain
Parry accompanied them to their huts :

"When it is remembered that these habita-
tions were fully within sight of the ships, and
how many eyes were constantly on the look
out among us for anything that could afford
variety or interest to our present situation, our
surprise may be imagined at finding an estab-
lishment of five huts, with canoes, sledges,
dogs, and above sixty men, women, and chil-
dren, as regularly, and to all appearance as
permanently fixed, as if they had occupied the
same spot for a whole winter. la the con-
struction of these houses the only material
used vvras snow and ice. After creeping
through two low passages, each having its
arched doorway, we came to a small circular
apartment, of \vhich the roof was a perfectly
arched dome. From this three doorways, also
arched, led into as many inhabited apartments,
one on each side. The interior of these pre-
sented a scene no less novel than interesting.
The women were seated on the beds at the

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

579

side of the huts, each having her little fire
place, or lamp, with all her domestic utensils
about her; the children crept behind their
mothers, and the dogs, except the female ones,
which were indulged with a part of the beds,
slunk out past us in dismay. The construc-
tion of this inhabited part of the hut was si-
milar to that of the outer apartment, being a
dome formed by separate blocks of snow, laid
with great regularity aud no small art, each
being cut into the shape requisite to form a
substantial arch, from seven to eight feet high
ill the centre, and having no support what-
ever, but what this principle of building sup-
plied. They were lighted by a circular win-

dow of ice, neatly fitted into the roof of each
apartment."

Exploring parties were sent out both,
years which traced the coast to a consider-
able distance in various directions, so that
much geographical knowledge was acquir-
ed, and the fact established that there was
no passage leading to the west south of
Hecla aud Fury Strait. In August 1823,
the ships left their winter quarters. On
the 17th of September 1823 they entered
Hudson's Strait, and reached England on
the 18th of November.

CAPTAIN LYON'S EXPEDITION TO REPULSE BAY, 1824.

In order to connect the Polar discoveries
of Franklin eastward from Coppermine
River and the late discoveries of Parry by
which the whole line of coast might be made
out, the Government determined to send the
Griper, under the command of Captain
Lyon, to Repulse Bay. The expedition
left England on the 11th June 1824. The
orders were to proceed to Wager River or
Repulse Bay ; to cross Melville Peninsula
on foot ; then to follow the western shore
of that peninsula, and the northern shore of
North America to the extreme point reach-
ed by Fraukhn in 1820, called Point
Turnagain.

The Griper, although she had been em-
ployed by Captain Clavering in the Green-
land seas proved herself unfit for this voy-

age. She was so deeply laden as to destroy
her sailing qualities and render her un-
manageable. She reached Repulse Bay
near which she encountered successive gales
of wind, and narrowly escaped foundering.
She was beset with the ice, enveloped in
fogs and in a severe gale lost all her
anchors. Drifting at the mercy of the
winds and waves she was happily carried
by the current out of danger. The season
having passed without effecting anything,
and not thinking it prudent to continue in
those boisterous regions without anchors,
Captain Lyon determined very prudently
to abandon the voyage, and make the best
of his way to England, where he arrived in
safety on the 10th of November.

CLAVERINGS AND SABINE'S VOYAGE TOWARDS THE NORTH POLE, 182.3.

This voyage, although it was sent out
for the purpose of reaching the Pole, is
deserving of insertion here. This expedi-
tion consisted of the gun-brig Griper, com-
manded by Captain Clavering. Captain
Sabine, since well known for his contribu-
tions to science, accompanied the expedi-
tion to make scientific experiments. The
plan of the voyage was, " to proceed to
Hammerfest, near the North Cape in Nor-
way, in the 70th degree north latitude,
thence to a second station, in or near the
80th paralleL on the northern coast of Spitz-

bergen ; afterward to make the east coast
of Greenland, in as high a latitude as the
barrier of ice would permit, and having got
within the barrier, to ascend the coast to
the northward as far as might be compati-
ble the same year, in order to obtain a
third pendulum station for Captain Sa-
bine's experiments at the highest degree of
latitude that might be there obtained." A
fourth station, if desired, was to be select-
ed in Iceland, or any other place in the
same parallel, if desired.

Aftar visiting Hammerfest, the expedi-

580

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

tion sailed on the 23d June, was in sight of
Spitzbergen in four days, and on the 30th,
rounded Hakluyt's Headland and dropped
anchor. The tents and instruments were
disembarked and set upon shore. Captain
Sabine, two officers, and six men, then
landed, to carry on their pendulum obser-
vations. They were provided with a
launch, six months' provisions and fuel, to
carry them to Hammerfest in ease of ne-
cessity. The Griper then left. Captain
Clavering having determined to push as
far northward as possible. On the second
day out he reached the pack ice, but twen-
ty-five miles from the island, extending
east and west as far as the eye could reach.
The latitude observed was 80° 20'.
After tracing the margin of the ice for six-
ty miles west and finding it trending to the
South, and everywhere closely packed, he
deemed it useless to proceed farther, and

returned to the station, which he reached
on the 11th of July.

Captain Sabine having completed his
operations, and procured an abundant
supply of rein deer for provisions, the
ship sailed to the eastern coast of Green-
land, in about the latitude of 74° the high-
est known point on the coast, where they
landed. " Never was there a more deso-
late spot seen," says Clavering, " Spitz-
bergen was, on the whole, a paradise to it."
He then stood to the northward till stopped
by the ice in lat., 75^ 12', which he sup-
posed the N. E. point of Greenland. A
party of 12 Esquimaux wei-e found here,
with whom they held intercourse. The
expedition remained on the coast till the
13th of September, during which time
Captain Sabine, was enabled to complete
his operations. They then sailed for
Eno-laud. " . .

PARRY'S THIRD VOYAGE, 1824, 1825.

<\&.t)

Captain Parry was placed in command
of a third expedition for the discovery of a
North-west passage, which sailed from
England on the 19th of May, 1824.
This expedition consisted of two ships, the
Hecla and Fury, the same which were em-
ployed in the last expedition, the latter
vessel being placed under the command of
Captain Hoppner. Their instructions were
to make the best of their way to Lancaster
Sound, thence through Barrow's Strait to
Prince Regent's Inlet, by which channel
it was believed he would be able to proceed
westward to Behring's Strait.

The ships entered the middle ice in
Baffin's Bay on the 17th July. " From
this time," says Parry, " the obstructions
from the quantity, magnitude, and close-
ness of the ice, were such as to keep our
people constantly employed in heaving,
warping, or sawing through it, and yet
with so little success, that at the close
of July we had only penetrated seventy
miles to the westward." They narrowly
escaped being crushed, and it was not
until the 9th of September that they suc-
ceeded in releasing themselves from this
icy barrier. On the 10th of September
they entered Lancaster Sound, which they

found free from ice. They had not pro-
ceeded far, however, before their progress
was obstructed by the new ice which had"
already begun to make across the Strait.
Opposing winds and a strong current sett-
ing eastward, tended still more to check
their progress, and in one night they
drifted between eia;ht and nine leagues
westward. On the 26th of September an
easterly wind sprang up which wafted the
ships rapidly towards Prince Regent's Inlet,
which they reached, and took up their
winter quarters in Port Brown, on the 1st
of October. The dreai-y winter passed off
as usual, and without accident. The
mercury in the thermometer did not rise
above zero till the 10th of April, having
remained below that point for one hundred
and thirty one successive days.

As in former expeditions, parties were
sent to explore the coasts in difierent di-
rections before the breaking up of the ice,
which took place on the 12th of July, and
on the 19th the ships got clear, and stood
across to the western shore of the inlet.
They followed this shore southward for
several days in the passage between the ice
and the shore, until a change of wind
brought the ice upon them, forcing them

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

581

into shallow water, and causing them to
ground. They made several narrow
escapes here, but the Fury was so much
injured that it was necessary to take out
her stores and heave her down. After
making the necessary repairs, her stores
were again embarked, only to be removed
ashore again, three days after, when the
ship again grounded, without any hope of
getting her off. The summer was now
rapidly passing away, and prompt mea-
sures were necessary in this dilemma. It
was therefore determined to land the stores
of the Fury, take her officers and crew on
board the Hecla, and proceed at once to
England.

It was now the 27th of August. A
favorable wind enabled them to reach the
western shore of Prince Regent's Inlet,
whence, after a few days' preparation in
getting the ship ready for her voyage, she
sailed on the last of Auarust, and entered

Barrow's Strait on the 1st September.
They found Baffin's Bay still clear of ice,
and meeting with no obstructions, reached
England on the 12th of October.

This last attempt was the least success-
ful of either of Parry's Voyages. No in-
formation regarding a western passage had
been obtained, and the additions to oiu*
arctic geography consisted in extending the
line of coast but a short distance beyond
what was previously known. The contri-
butions to natural history were equally
meam-e. The shores of Prince Regent's
Inlet were found to be the " most barren,
the most dreary and desolate, that have
been seen, not excepting Melville Island ;
not merely desolate of human beings, but
almost deprived of animal and vegetable
life." Astronomical and magnetical ob-
servations were made as informer voyages,
the results of which are appended to the
narrative of this voyage.

PARRY'S POLAR VOYAGE, 1827.

The fourth voyage of this distinguished
navigator (or rather the fifth, as his first
voyage was with Captain John Ross), was
totally different from the preceding. This
was to reach the North Pole in the most
direct manner ; first by a ship as far as the
ice would permit, and then by travelling
with sledge-boats over the ice, availing
themselves of any spaces of water that
might occur.

Two boats were constructed for the ex-
pedition, " twenty feet long and seven broad,
flat-floored, and as stout as wood and iron
could make them ; and so fitted as to con-
tain nautical and other instruments, bags
of biscuit, pemmican, clothing and other
stores." A bamboo mast, a tarred duck
sail, answering also the purpose of an
awning, paddles, boat hooks, &c., com-
pleted each boat's complement. Two offi-
cers and twelve men, were selected for the
crew of each. " Each boat, with all her
furniture, tools, instruments, clothing, and
provisions of every kind, weighed 3753
pounds, exclusive of four sledges."

With this expedition Captain Parry
sailed in the Hecla, on the 4th of April,
1827, reached Hammerfest, in Norway,

on the 19th, where they took on board
eight rein-deer, and a supply of moss to
feed them upon, and on the 14th of May
rounded Hakluyt's Headland in Spitzber-
gen. On the 8th of June the boats took
their departure with 71 days' provisions,
with a clear sea. The second day they
reached the pack ice in latitude Sl'^ 12'
51". As the daylight is constant in these
high latitudes, the sun continually above
the horizon, during the summer season,
Captain Parry chose that portion of the
twenty-fours which corresponded with
night for travelling, and rested during the
day. The sun was higher during the day
hours, and oppressive to the eyes, while
the heat rendered it more comfortable for
sleeping. " This travelling by night," says
Parry, " and sleeping by day, so completely
inverted the natural order of things, that
it was difficult to persuade ourselves of the
reality ; nor could we, even with pocket
chronometers, always bear in mind at what
part of the 24 hours we had arrived." A
brief sketch of their mode of living may be
interesting :

" Being rigged for travelling," says Captain
Parry, -'we breakfasted on warm cocoa and

582

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

biscuit, then stowed the things in the boats,
and set off on our day's journey. After tra-
velling five or six hours, we stopped an hour
to dine, and again travelled four, five, or six
hours. After this we hutted for the night,
though it was early in the morning, selecting
the largest surface of ice for hauling our boats
on. The boats were placed close alongside
each other, and the sails, supported by the
paddles, placed over them as awnings. Dry
shoes and stockings were then put on and
supper eaten. After this pipes were smoked
and the men told their stories. This part of
the twenty-four hours was often a time, and
the only one, of real enjoyment to us. A re-
gular watch was set during the resting time to
look out for bears, and for the ice breaking up
around us, as well as to attend to the drying
of the clothes. We then concluded our day
with prayers, and having put on our fur
dresses, lay down to sleep with a degree of
comfort, which perhaps few persons would
imagine possible under such circumstances.
The temperature while we slept, was usually
from 36° to 45°, according to the state of the
external atmosphere ; but on one or two oc-
casions it rose as high as 60° to 66°. After
we had slept 7 hours, we were aroused by the
man appointed to boil the cocoa, when it was
ready.

Our fuel consisted entirely of spirits of wine,
of which two pints formed our daily allowance,
the cocoa being cooked in an iron boiler, over
a shallop lamp, with seven wicks. One pint
of the spirits of wine would heat 28 pints of
water, though it commenced from the^tempera-
ture of 32°.

The ice was found to be entirely different
from what it was expected to be. Instead
of a smooth level plain, instead of compact
floes, it consisted entirely of small, loose,
and rugged masses, obliging them " to
make three journeys and sometimes four,
with the boats and baggage, and to launch
several times across narrow pools of water."
One day they only advanced half a mile in
four hours ; and another the ice was so
much in motion as to make it dangerous to
cross with loaded boats, the masses being
so small. At other times the roughness
of the ice compelled them to unload the

boats and carry their stores in several
journeys. But the most vexatious of all
was, to discover, on taking an observation
on the 30th, that they had reached no
higher than 81° 23', and had consequently
advanced but eight miles nearer the pole
in five day's laborious travelling. They
continued slowly to advance, working from
10 to 12 hours each day ; and in the wind-
ings of their journeys of 10 or 15 miles, did
not advance more than two-thirds that dis-
tance. On taking observations as before,
they found their actual advance northward
was little more than half their apparent ad-
vance. This was owing to a strong cur-
rent setting to the South, carrying with it
the whole body of ice. On the 23d of July
they reached their highest latitude or 82"^
45'. They strove in vain to reach 83^.
On this day the thermometer ranged from
31° to 36a in the shade.

" At the extreme point of our journey,"
says Parry, " our distance from the Hecla was
only 172 miles. To accomplish this we had
travelled by our reckoning, 292 miles, of
which above one hundred were performed by
water previously to our entering the ice. As
we travelled the greater part of our distance
on the ice three, and not unfrequently five,
times over, we may safely multiply the length
of the road by two and a half ; so that our
whole distance, on a very moderate calcula-
tion, amounted to 580 geographical, or 678
statute miles, being nearly sufficient to have
reached the pole in a direct line."

On the 27th of July, they turned their
faces homewards and reached the Hecla on
the 21st of August, after an absence of 61
days. During their absence, the oflBcers
who remained with the ship were occupied
with scientific explorations and observa-
tions.

On the return of the expedition to Eng-
land, Captain Parry submitted another
plan to reach the North Pole, but the Ad-
miralty did not deem it advisable to make
another attempt.

FRANKLIN'S FIRST EXPEDITION TO THE POLAR SEA. 1819-20-21-22.

The first expedition for exploring the
shores of the Arctic Sea, which had been
seen by Hearne and Mackenzie, was

placed under the command of Lieutenant
Franklin, assisted by Dr. Richardson as
naturalist. They left England on the 23d

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

583

May 1S20 ; took the usual route of the
great lakes ; thence by the way of Lakes
Winucpeg, Athapasca, and Slave Lake,
to the Coppermine River, which they fol-
lowed to its entrance into the Arctic Sea,
where they arrived on the 21st July.

The object of the expedition was to
trace the shores of the Arctic Sea, east-
ward ; and, if possible, to reach Repulse
Bay. Embarking in canoes, they com-
menced their voyage under favorable aus-
pices. The sea was clear of ice, save a
small iceberg at a distance. The coast
was found of moderate height, easy of
access, and covered with vegeti^tion ; but
the islands were rocky and barren. For
the first thirty-seven miles they experi-
enced little interruption. In passing a
prominent headland, they first encountered
the dangers common to the Polar Seas.
Beset by ice, they encountered a violent
storm, which compelled them to seek a
refuge on shore. The coast soon after pre-
sented a different aspect. Hills and
mountains of granite, destitute of vegeta-
tion rose abruptly from the water's edge to
the height of 1400 or 1500 feet ; no animals
were seen except small deer and seals, and
their hunters succeeded in shooting a
bear, but so miserably poor was the latter
as to be unfit for food. No Esquimaux
were seen. The party continued their
explorations along the coast, which was
indented by numerous inlets, and studded
with small islands, until they reached a
Cape, denominated Point Turnagain. They
now found that they had lost so much time
in following the indentations of the coast,
that it would be impossible to reach Re-
pulse Bay that season. Beside this, their
fuel was expended, and their provisions
only enough for three days. "The ap-
pearances of the setting in of the Arctic
winter were too equivocal to be mistaken ;
the deer, on which they depended for fresh
meat would soon disappear ; aquatic birds
were winging their way southward ; and
the men, who had up to this moment dis-
played the utmost courage, began to look
disheartened, and to entertain serious ap-
prehensions for their safety." The ofi&cers
united with Franklin in his opinion that it
was not prudent to advance farther. The
expedition, therefore, after spending a few
days in the examination of some of the
bays, returned to the mouth of Hood's

River, from which they intended to make
their way to Fort Enterprise, their destined
winter quarters, about 150 miles southward.
Up to this point, where their canoe voyage
on the Arctic Sea terminated, they had
performed a distance of 650 geographical
mUes.

They now proceeded up the river in
their canoes, and though on a short al-
lowance of provisions, they managed, by
means of their nets and fowling pieces, to
satisfy their wants for a few days. Comin'^-
to a high fall, their progress was checked ;
their large canoes could not be carried
over them, and they were obliged to con-
struct two smaller and more portable ones.
With these, they set off on the 1st Sep-
tember, after divesting themselves of all
unnecessary luggage, and expected to reach
their spring encampment in a few days.
The second day exhausted the last of their
solid food, and on encamping for the night
they could find nothing to make a fire with.
The third day a violent snow storm came
on ; the party could not move forward, and
for want of fire, the men remained in their
beds. The snow had drifted to the height
of three feet around their tents, and even
within them, it lay several inches thick on
their blankets. But they could not delay
longer, hunger stared them in the face,
and they were compelled to pack their
frozen tents and push forward.

'' Disaster now crowded on disaster.
The wind rose so high, that those who
carried the canoes were frequently blown
down, and one of the canoes so much injured
as to be unserviceable." The ground wag
covered with snow, and the swamps, though
frozen ground, were not sufficiently strong to
bear the men, who often fell through knee
deep in water. A fire was made of the broken
canoe and their last meal of portable soup
and arrow root was cooked. They now
resorted for food to a kind of lichen, known
to the Canadians as tn'j>e de roc7ie, with
which the rocks were covered. In cases of
extremity this is boiled and eaten ; but its
taste is nauseous, its quality purgative, and
it sometimes produces severe pain. On
this the party subsisted for several days,
and until a musk ox was shot which
afforded them great relief. " This suc-
cess," says Franklin, "infused spirit into
our starving party. The contents of its
stomach, were devoured on the spot ; and

584

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

the raw intestines were pronounced by the
most delicate of the party to be excellent.
A few willow twigs were grubbed up from
beneath the snow, fires made, the tents
pitched, supper cooked and devoured with
avidity." The expedition rested a couple
of days to recruit their strength, when
they proceeded ; supporting themselves by
the lichen alluded to, and an occasional deer
and partridge killed by the men.

Severe as these privations were, the
party were, nevertheless, thankful, and felt
that a merciful Providence had watched
over them and provided them with a means
of subsistence ; but it was the will of God
that their confidence should be put to a
more severe test ; for they now entered a
level country covered with snow, where
the tripe de roche was not to be found.
Another distress now attacked them : the
intensity of the cold increased, while they
became less able to endure it. Their
blankets were insufficient to keep them
warm, and the piercing winds reached their
emaciated bodies. " The reader," says
Franklin, " will probably be desirous to
know how we passed our time in such a
comfortless situation. The first operation
after encamping was to thaw our frozen
shoes, if a sufficient fire could be made ;
dry ones were then put on. Each person
then wrote his notes of the daily occur-
rences, and evening prayers were read.
As soon as supper was prepared it was
eaten, generally in the dark, and we went
to bed and kept up a cheerful conversation
until our blankets were thawed by the
heat of our bodies, and we had gathered
sufficient warmth to enable us to fall asleep.
On many nights we had not even the
luxury of going to bed in dry clothes ; for,
when the fire was sufficient to dry our
shoes, we dared not venture to pull them
off, lest they should freeze so hard as to be
unfit to put on in the morning, and there-
fore inconvenient to carry."

The next disaster that befel them was
the loss of their remaining canoe. This
was of the utmost importance to them, as
they had no other way to pass the rivers
which lay across their path. A few deer
were happily killed soon after by the hunt-
ers in the party, who were kept constantly
on the look out for game. The flesh,
skins, and even the stomachs of these ani-
mals were equally divided among the party,

whose spirits were greatly invigorated by
such a supply of food after eight days' fa-
mine. A day's rest, and the journey was
pursued until they reached Coppermine
River, the breadth and current of which
rendered it impassable without a boat.
Efforts were made to construct one with
willows and the canvas of their hut with-
out success. Retracing their steps, they
next attempted to ford a river presenting
less obstacles by means of a raft. In this
too their efibrts were foiled, for they had
nothing to propel the raft and their tent
poles would not reach the bottom.

'^'The failure of every attempt occasioned a
deep despondency, which threatened to have
the most fatal effects, when Dr. Richardson,
with a disinterested courage that made him for-
gets his own weakness, threw oil his upper gar-
ments, and attempted to swim with a rope to
the opposite bank. Plunging in with the line
around his middle he at hrst made some way,
but the extreme cold was too much for him,
and in a few moments his arms became
powerless; still, being an expert swimmer, he
not only kept himself afloat, but made some
way on his back and using his legs, so that he
had nearly reached the other side, when, to
the inexpressible anguish of those who watch-
ed his progress, his limbs became benumbed,
and he sank. All hands now hauled in the
line, and drew him ashore almost lifeless ; but,
placed before a lire of willows and stripped
of his wet clothes, he gradually revived enough
to give directions as to the mode of treating
him. His thin and emaciated limbs, which
were now exposed to view, produced an invol-
untary exclamation of compassion and surprise.
''Ah, 9zte nous sommes maigres!" said the
French Canadians ; but it is probable that few
of them would have presented so gaunt and
attenuated an appearance as the brave and ex-
cellent man who had thus nearly fallen a sac-
rifice to his humanity, for it was discovered
about this time that the hunters were in the
practice of withholding the game which they
shot and devouring it in secret."

While these eflforts were making, the
party lived upon tripe de roche of which a
small quantity was procured. The putrid
carcase of a deer which was found among
the rocks where it had fallen, though so
acrid as to excoriate the lips was eagerly
devoured, and the antlers and bones of deer,
which had been picked by the wolves and
birds of prey, were made friable by burning,
and converted into food.

One of the Canadians now endeavored
to make a canoe by stretching the painted

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

585

canvas used for wrapping np the bedding,
over a frame work of willows. Pitch was
gathered from the small pines to pay the
seams and a frail bark was thus construct-
ed, which to the joy of all was found to
float. One by one the whole party was
carried across the river, though from the
leaky condition of the little bark, their
garments and bedding were completely
drenched. The joy of the Canadians knew
no bounds at this unlocked for deliverance,
and their spirits rose from the deepest de-
spondency into tumultuous exultation. ]\'Ir.
Back was now dispatched with three men
to Fort Enterprize in search of the Indians.
After drying their bed-clothes and tents,
the remainder of the party again moved on.
Six miles only were accomplished this day
against a piercing wind and drifts of snow,
and a few shreds of tr/j>e de roclie mixed
with the remains of their old leather shoes,
boiled or roasted, formed their evening
meal. The following day two of their best
hunters gave out and fell behind, and the
stoutest men were unable to bring them to
their evening's fire and encampment. Mat-
ters had now reached a dreadful crisis, and
the only alternative seemed to be that Mr.
Hood and Dr. Richardson, with a single
attendant, shoidd remain with the two
Canadians where there was a supply of
wood and ten days' stock of tripe de roche^
and that Captain Franklin with the re-
mainder of the party should hasten to
Fort Enterprize for relief.

The next day Franklin proceeded on his
journey, leaving every thing but a single
tent, their ammunition, journals, and a
blanket for himself. After a march of but
five miles they encamped, supping on an in-
fusion of the Labrador tea plant and a few
morsels of burnt leather. The following
day four other men, among them the strong-
est of the party, gave out and endeavored
to retrace their steps to the spot where
Richardson and the others were left. The
whole party able to proceed now consisted
of Captain Franklin and five men, who
pushed forward and succeeded in reaching
Fort Enterprize.

It was here they had passed the previous
winter, and arrangements had been made
to have a stock of provisions and other ne-
cessary comforts provided for them on their
arrival at this time. They expected therefore
to find the Indian hunters here, an abun-

dance of game, a stock of fuel and a com-
fortable house. " On approaching the
house their minds were strongly agitated
betwixt hope and fear, and contrary to their
usual custom, they advanced in silence.
At length they reached it, and their worst
apprehensions were realized. It was com-
pletely destitute. No provisions had been
deposited, — no trace of Indians could be
discovered — no letter told them where they
could be found. On entering a mute de-
spair seized the party. They gazed on the
cold hearth, comfortless walls, and broken
sashes, through which the wind and snow
penetrated, and, awakening to a full sense
of their situation burst into tears." A
note, however, was found from Mr. Back,
stating, that he had reached here two days
before — that his party had endured great
suffering, and one of them had been frozen
to death. That they had gone on to Fort
Providence, which it was doubtful they
should ever be able to reach.

The sufferers thus disappointed, looked
about for some means of subsistence, and
found several deer skins thrown away
during their former residence at this
place, as well as a quantity of bones. Of
these they made soup. They next made
their house as comfortable as possible with
loose boards, for the temperature of the
outer air was from 15° to 20a' below zero.

Captain Franklin was desirous to pro-
ceed to Fort Providence with his five men,
but two had become so feeble that they
were unable to move. He therefore left
them, and with the remaining two deter-
mined to press on in the hopes of meeting
some Indians and sending relief to his suff-
ering party. The second day out he fell
between two rocks and broke his snow
shoes, which compelled him to abandon his
journey and retrace his steps to Fort En-
terprize. The two men were directed to
press forward to Fort Providence for a sup-
ply of meat as the only means of saving the
lives of the party left behind.

On his return to Fort Enterprize, Frank-
lin found two of the men left there so weak
that they could not leave their bod, so that
the whole labor of procuring tripe de roche
and cooking it, as well as the collecting and
carrying fuel, fell upon him and the re-
maining Canadian. The frost was now so
severe too, that the lichen could only be
detached from the rocks to which it ad-

586

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

bered, witli great difficulty, and the bone
soup was so acrid as to corrode the inside
of their mouths. Soon after, Dr. Richard-
son, who had been left behind with j&ve
men, arrived with a single man, Hepburn,
the others having perished. The narrative
of then- sufferings and the cause of the
death of these must be passed over. The
arrival of Dr. R. was attended with a fa-
vorable change, as be and his companion
were in a better condition than Franklin
and his men. A partridge was shot and di-
vided among the six, which was the first
morsel of flesh they had tasted for 31 days.
Their several tasks were now allotted to
each. Hepburn and Richardson went out
in search of deer and other game while
Franklin, unable to walk far remained
nearer the house, employing himself in dig-
ging under the snow for the skins and bones
of the animals they had killed and eaten
during their previous winter residence here.
Two other men procured wood for the fire,
while the sixth was confined by swollen
limbs to his bed, unable to move. But the
winter was coming rapidly on them, the cold
increased — food was more difficult to ob-
tain— their stock of putrid bones and skins
were nearly exhausted, and the tripe de
roclie very difficult to procure. The party
daily grew weaker, their dishevelled Hmbs,
their sunken eyes and sepulchral voices,
betokened the fate that awaited them.
Their mental faculties partook of then-
bodily weakness, and " an unreasonable

pettishness with each other began to mani-
fest itself." Two of their men died from
exhaustion and there was not strength left
in the rest to remove their bodies. " All
they could do was to remove them into an
opposite part of the house ; and the living
and dead remained in awful contiguity un-
der the same roof."

In the midst of these dreadful sufferings,
with death staring them in the face, these
brave men were supported by an unwaver-
ing reliance on the mercy of God. " We
read prayers," says Captain Franklin,
" and a portion of the New Testament in
the morning and evening, as had been our
practice since Dr. Richardson's arrival, and I
may remark, that the performance of these
duties always aflbrdedus the greatest conso-
lation, serving to re-animate our hope in
the mercy of the Omnipotent, who alone
could save and deliver us." But relief
was at hand.

On the 7th November, three Indians
who had been sent by Mr. Back, arrived
with provisions. On the 16th they had so
far recovered their strength as to be able to
proceed by aid of the Indians to the abode
of Akaitcho, an Indian chief, who treat-
ed them with the greatest kindness. Pro-
visions and clothing soon after reached
them from Fort Providence. The follow-
ing summer they returned by the usual route
to Montreal and thence to England. Then*
travels in North America including voy-
asre on the Arctic Sea exceeded 5500 miles

FRANKLIN'S SECOND EXPEDITION TO THE POLAR SEA, 1825-6-7.

In 1824, the British Government de-
termined to send another Polar expedition
to complete the sm-vey of the Northern
coasts of America. Captain Franklin ten-
dered his services to command the expedi-
tion and submitted a plan for a jomney over-
land to the mouth of Mackenzie River,
and thence by sea to the north-western ex-
tremity of America, with the combined ob-
ject also of surveying the coast between
the Mackenzie and the Coppermine Ri-
vers." Dr. Richardson, his former com-
panion in suffering, again offered his ser-
vices as naturalist and surgeon, and volun-
teered to undertake the survey of the

coast between the mouths of Mackenzie
and Coppermine Rivers, while Captain
Franklin should be engaged westward in an
attempt to reach Icy Cape and Behring's
Strait.

In this expedition they were enabled to
profit by the experience of their first jour-
ney. Boats were constructed in England,
of various dimensions adapted to the pas-
sage of rapids and other waters between
York Factory on Hudson's Bay, and Mac-
kenzie River, as well as for the navigation
of the Arctic Sea. These were made of
mahogany, with timbers of ash, yet so
light, that the largest one, twenty-six feet

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

587

long and five feet four inches broad, and
adapted for six rowers, a steersman and
an officer, could be easily carried on the
sbouldsrs of six men. Their boats were
shipped direct to York Factory and thence
across the country, through the various
rivers and small lakes, to await Captain
Franklin at Mcthye River. Every man
in the party was provided with water-proof
dresses, and all that could add to their
comfort and ensure the safety of the ex-
pedition, was procured.

The expedition sailed from Liverpool on
the 16th of February 1825, — passed
throu.^h New York, Albany and the great
lakes to Lake Superior; thence through the
Lake of the Woods and Lake Winnepog
to the Methye River where they overtook
their boats on the 29th June. The season
had so far advanced before they reached
Mackenzie River that they determined to
pospone the great expedition till the ensu-
ing summer. They accordingly establish-
ed their winter quarters on the banks of
Great Bear Lake, by erecting substantial
houses which they called Fort Franklin.
Lieutenant Back, a young officer, who ac-
companied Franklin in his first expedition,
superintended the arrangements here, while
Captain Franklin determined to descend
Mackenzie River, take a view of the Polar
Sea, and return before the winter set in.
This voyage he performed without difficul-
ty and returned to his winter quarters on
the 5th September. Dr. Richardson re-
turned at the same time from some east-
ern explorations. In the meantime the
Canadians and Indians were occupied in
hunting and fishing, by which means abun-
dant stores of provisions were secured for
their winter's use.

The daily product of the nets during the
autumn was eight hundred herring-salmon
A supply of fuel was also collected and
piled up for use. The prospect before
them was, therefore, very different from
that which they had experienced in their
previous winter residence in these regions.
Nothing of importance occurred during
their long winter. The officers instructed
the men in reading, writing, and arith-
metic during the long evenings, and divine
service was held on Sunday, which was
always kept as a day of rest.

On the 23th June the party embarked

VOL. V. NO. VI. NEW SERIES.

on the Mackenzie River. On the 4tli
July Capt. Franklin took the western
channel where the river branched off
towards its mouth, while T)r. Richai-dson
took the eastern bi-anch with his party.
Large numbers of Esquimaux were met at
the river's mouth with whom Franklin had
a difficulty. They plundered some of his
boats, and the quarrel would have termi-
nated in bloodshed, had it not been for his
great forbeaiauce. The Esquimaux in-
terpreter made a speech to his countrymen,
in which he made known the great love
which the white people had for them, which
induced them to return much of the plun-
dered property, and exacted a promise
from them to behave better in future.
The Esquimaux apologized by saying that
"they had never seen white men before, and
all the things in the boats were so very
beautiful and d3sirable, that it was im-
possible not to steal them." The expedi-
tion proceeded along the shore of the Polar
Sea with some interruption from the ice
and fogs until the 16th August, when they
had reached 150'^ W longitude, or about
one half the distance from Mackenzie
River to Icy Cape. A perceptible change
had now taken place in the weather.
Vegetation assumed an autumnal aspect,
and ice began to form at night on the
pools of fresh water. The Esquimaux
lately so numerous had ceased to appear ;
the deer were hastening from the coast,
and the migratory birds were winging their
way to more genial climes. It was, there-
fore, resolved to return. Accordingly, on
the ISth Autjust the boats bejran their
voyage eastward to Mackenzie River,
which they reached without accident on
the 4th September ; and proceeding at
once up that river, arrived in safety at
Fort Franklin, where Dr. Richardson ar-
rived a few days before.

Dr. Richardson in his exploration of the
Polar Sea eastward from Mackenzie River
met with no obstacles to retard his pro-
gress, and was enabled to accomplish his
voyage to the Coppermine River, a dis-
tance of 500 miles, between the 4th July
and the 8th of August He then proceeded
up that river and reached the winter quar-
ters of the party on the 1st of September.
After a winter spent at Fort Franklin the
expedition, in the following summer, re-
turned by the usual routj to England.
38

588

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

CAPTAIN BEECHEY'S VOYAGE THROUGH BEHRING'S STRAITS. 1825-26.

To co-operate witli Parry and Frank-
lin, it was determined by the British go-
vernment to send an expedition to Behr-
ing's Strait. Capt. F. W. Beechey in the
Blossom, a 24 gun ship, was destined for
this service, and sailed from England on
the 19th of May, 1825. A boat to be
used as a tender, built as large as could be
carried on the deck of the ship, was taken
out. She was schooner rigged, decked,
and fitted out in the best manner.

On the 22d July 1826, which was as
early as it was desirable to be in the Polar
Sea, Captain Beechey anchored in Kotze-
bue Sound, after surveying a portion of
which, he proceeded to Chamisso Island,
where he was directed to await Captain
Franklin. Leaving the barge for the pur-
pose of following the coast, he proceeded
northward with his ship and passed Icy
Cape. On the 17th of August, as the
channel between the ice and the shore was
not wide enough to trust his ship forther,
he despatched the barge under the com-
mand of Mr. Elson to trace the shore as
far eastward as possible. The barge pro-
ceeded as far as a prominent headland which
was called Cape Barrow. This point, the
most uortherly part of the American con-
tinent yet formed the terminus to a spit
of land discovered jutting out several
miles from the regular coast line. It was

now late in the season, and prudence dicta-
ted to the party that it was unsafe to pro-
ceed farther, as there was danger that the
ice might close in upon them and prevent
their escape. They therefore began a re-
treat towards their rendezvous, at Chamisso
Island, which they reached on the 9th Sep-
tember not without difficulty, having been
" thickly beset with ice, that threatened
every moment to close with its impenetra-
able walls and cut off their return." The
result of this voyage was the addition of
an extensive line of coast to our Polar ge-
ography ; and a comparison of notes shewed
that but 146 miles intervened between the
expedition of Captains Beechey and Frank-
lin, who were on this coast at the same
time. Captain Franklin afterwards as-
serted, that had he "been aware of the fact
of his near proximity to the barge of the
Blossom, no difficulties or dangers would
have prevailed on him to return." It was
the great object of his ambition to reach
Icy Cape, and he doubtless would have ac-
complished it, or perished in the attempt.
The following year, Captain Beechey re-
turned to the Arctic Sea, and endeavored to
extend his survey beyond the point attain-
ed by him in 1826 ; but the severity of
the weather obliged him to return before
he had reached Icy Cape.

SIR JOHN ROSS'S SECOND VOYAGE, 1829-30-31-32-33.

In 1828, Captain John Ross whose
name appears first among those who at-
tempted to discover a North West Passage,
and whose mistake in passing Lancaster
Sound, lost to him the honor and renown
which were gained by his successor Captain
Parry, felt ambitious to resume the under-
taking and make another effort to make
this passage. He proposed to government
a plan to explore the Polar Sea, with a
steam vessel, but they were tired with an
enterprise which had lost its novelty, and
determined to send out no more expeditions

for the purpose specified. IMr. Felix
Booth a distinguished merchant of London
prompted by a desire to promote the
scheme of Captain Ross, then generously
came forward, and advanced the amount
necessary for the expedition.

The Victory steamer of 150 tons was
accordingly equipped for the voyage. A
great interest was excited in the enterprise
and many officers in the navy tendered
their services to Captain Ross. He gave
the preference to his nephew Commander
James C. Ross who had been in all the

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

589

late Arctic voyages. 22 men and an officer
completed the party. Witli these he put
to sea on the 7th of June, and on the 2Sth
of July found himself off Disco Island.
Their steam-engine proved a failure, for in
the few instances in which they used it it
did not propel her but a mile and a half an
hour. On the 6th of August they entered
Lancaster Sound, and with a favorable
wind, two days after, reached the opposite
shore of Prince Regent's Inlet on the 11th.
Steering southward they came to the place
where Captain Parry's ship, the Fury, was
abandoned. Her stores they found in
excellent condition, but every vestige of
the ship had been carried away by the ice.
After taking an abundant supply of pro-
visions and coal, they worked their way
slowly on, obliged to steer by the wind and
sun ; for the near proximity to the mag-
netic pole had rendered their compass
useless. Enveloped in fogs, and siu--
rounded by icebergs, their progress was
full of difficulties and dangers, yet they
forced on their little barque, and dur-
ing the months of August and Septem-
ber had traced 300 miles of coast previ-
ously unknown, attaining a position within
280 miles of Franklin's Point Tin-nagain.
By the end of September the snow fell
thick ; the thermometer sunk below the
freezing point; huge masses of ice hemmed
them in on every side, and on the 7th of
October they went into winter quarters.

The usual preparations were now made
for the winter ; banks of snow were raised
around the ship, and a roof of canvas
placed on her. Her stoves kept up a
temperature of 45*^ during the coldest
weather, which was quite warm enough for
health.

A party of Esquimaux took up their
quarters near the ship, and a friendly in-
tercourse was kept up between them.
Some of these people exhibited much geo-
graphical knowledge, tracing out on paper
the line of the coast for a great distance
with remarkable accuracy. On speaking
to them of the places visited by Captain
Parry about Repulse Bay, they at once
recognised them, and stated that they had
lately been there. Captain Ross was un-
able to learn whether any passage existed
to the Westward, though he was told that
a great sea lay in that direction, which
proved to be the case. They were after-

wards told by the most intelligent natives
that a passage existed far to the North,
which was doubtless Barrow's Strait.

Several parties left the ship in April
and ]\Iay to explore the adjacent shores,
accompanied by the Esquimaux as guides.
The most important of these was one
under the younger Ross, who, crossing the
isthmus of Boothia reached the sea, the
shores of which he traced to a point about
200 miles from the ship. The shore
trended westward in the direction of Point
Turnagain, but his stock of provisions
would not permit him to reach it. He
therefore, was compelled to return, reach-
ing the ship on the 13th May, after an
absence of 27 days.

Summer now came ; the ice and snow
melted with great rapidity ; the country
was inundated with water, and the surface
of the ocean could not be traversed. All
the efforts of the crew were directed to
the extrication of the vessel. " But month
after month rolled on ; the height of sum-
mer passed, and the sea still remained
bound in icy chains." August passed
away and left them fixed to the same
dreary spot where they had been for eleven
months. On the 17th of September,
" with a transport of joy, they found
themselves free," and the gallant ship
again moved forward about three miles,
when her farther progress was arrested by
a ridge of ice. The following day there
was a heavy fall of snow, and in the even-
ing a gale sprang up from the North, which
continuing for three days, brought with it
a crowd of floating ice and huge icebergs,
crowding the whole together with the
ship, towards the shore. A few days after
they were frozen up and the sea presented
an unbroken surface of ice. " It was,"
says Captain Ross' "as if the northern
ocean were sending all its stores into this
quarter," and then wedging them as firmly
into the bay as the rocks themselves.

They were now frozen up for a second
winter, and it was found necessary to
lessen the usual allowance of provisions.
Enough, however, was given to keep the
men in health and vigour, which they pre-
served uninterruptedly during the season.
It was, nevertheless, a dreary one, "the
monotony of their situation pressing upon
them with increasing severity."

In the spring, exploring parties were

590

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

aofain sent out. Commander Ross pro-
ceeded northward in search of a western
opening but found none. Captain Ross and
other officers went in other directions. The
most important journey, however, was a
later one performed by Commander Ross in
search of the Magnetic Pole.

Calculations had been made by the learn-
ed, which placed this interesting spot in
latitude 70» north, and longitude 9Sp 30'
west, and it was one of the objects of this
voyage to discover the spot. In Command-
er Ross's journey the previous year, he
passed within ten miles of it, but had not
instruments with him to make the requisite
experiments. " To this point, therefore,
he directed his course. The journey was
tedious and laborious, not only from the
rigor of the season, and the ruggedness of
the surface, but from the care with which
he examined the country." On the 1st
of June, he reached the spot where his own
calculations fixed the Magnetic Pole,
which was 70° 5' 17 north, and lonptude
96° 46' 45 west. The instruments were
put in motion and the amount of the dip of
the needle found to be 89o 59', being only
one minute less than 90 ° ■> the vertical po-
sition, which would precisely have indica-
ted the polar station ; and the horizontal
needles when suspended in the most deli-
cate manner possible, did not shew the
slightest tendency to move. He looked in
vain for some object to mark the spot.

" Nature had here erected no monu-
ment to denote the spot which she had
chosen as the centre of one of her great
and dark powers " Commander Ross er-
ected a pile of stones and returned to the
ship.

The summer of 1831 now arrived, and
on the 29th of August the ship left her
winter quarters. She was soon stopped by
adverse winds and bad weather. A snow
storm came on with a heavy gale, and they
again found themselves completely sur-
rounded with masses of ice. They watch-
ed an opportunity to escape through any
channels in the ice that might be present-
ed, but they watched in vain. On the 14th
of September they were enabled to take ex-
ercise by skating on the new ice which had
formed around them. A few days later,
all hope of escape vanished and they found
themselves fixed in the ice for a third

winter, but four mUes from their late win-
ter station.

''The spirits of the adventurers now began
to droop in earnest. They soon became sen-
sible that, at all events, it would be perilous
to wait another season in the hope of extrica-
ting the vessel, in which they could never re-
turn to England, and had no alternative but
to abandon her amid the Arctic regions. Their
only means of escape was to proceed in boats,
or draw them over the ice, to the wreck of the
Fury, when after supplying themselves with a
fresh stock of provif>ions out of her stores,
they might reach Davis's Straits, and return
in one of the whale ships."

Up to this time the whole party had en-
joyed excellent health. Now, the scurvy
began to shew itself ; yet the long and te-
dious winter was passed much as in pre-
vious years, and the spring found thenoi
ready to abandon their vessel. The stores
of the Fury lay ISO miles off", in a direct
line ; but the windings which it would be
necessary to make, increased the journey
to 300 miles. There was no other hope
of escape left for them but to reach these
stores, and they determined to make the at-
tempt.

On the 23d of April 1832, they commen-
ced the labor of carrying their provisions,
clothing and boats over the ice ; but it
was impossible to carry all, except by mak-
ing many journeys. By the 21st of May
they had accomplished but 30 miles dis-
tance to reach which their journey am-
ounted to 329 miles. On leaving the Vic-
tory for the last time, they hoisted her
colors, nailed them to the mast, and drank
a parting glass to her. After the most
fatiguing and incessant labor, in transport-
ing their boats to a safe and accessible
point, they made their way with their stores
to Fury Beach, which they reached on the
1st July.

They now set to work, and built a house
of canvas for their residence, until the ice
permitted their leaving. The boats were
next repaired and fitted ; and they now
awaited the moment when some channels
of water would permit them to set out on
their voyage. On the 1st of August there
was an open sea to a considerable distance
when they embarked, but the dangers to
which they were constantly exposed from
the masses of floating ice, obliged them

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

591

often to seek the beach for safety. On
the 29th of August they reached Barrow's
Strait, where they hxudccl and pitched their
tents. They attempted to run along the
shore of the Strait with their boats but
found it impossible. The ichoh Strait
was firmly dosed tcith ice, and had been
so during the whole summer. Ascending
the neighboring mountains, they saw an
impcnetiable barrier of ice before them,
and that it would be impossible to reach
the sea eastward. To return to Fury
Beach was their only hope. On the 24th
of September they retraced their steps, but
were only able to get half-way in their
boats, when they were stopped by the ice.
They now hauled them high up on the
beach for safety, where they left them ;
put their provision on sledges, and made
their way to Fury Beach where they ar-
rived on the 7th of October.

As the frail canvas house was to be their
abode foT the fourth winter, which had al-
ready set in with severity, they endeavor-
ed to make it comfortable by covering, and
raising walls of snow around it. Stoves
were set up and a temperature of 51° main-
tained. " But the winter as it advanced,
proved one of great severity; and the slight
w^alls could no longer keep up a comfort-
able heat." For food they were pretty
well off. The stores of the Fury furnish-
ed them with a reduced allowance of pre-
served meats ; but plenty of flour, sugar,
soups, and vegetables. In February, the
carpenter died of scurvy, and many of the
seamen were attacked with the same dis-
ease. Their situation was now becoming aw-
ful, and unless liberated in the approaching
summer, death was inevitable.

In April and May they carried forward
to their boats a supply of provisions. To
accomplish this many journeys were ne-
cessary, as in the previous year ; and, al-
though the distance to their boats was but
32 miles, their journeyings amounted to
256 miles. Having effected this, they re-
turned to their canvas house where they
remained until the 8th of July, when they
set off, carrying with them the sick, and in
four days reached their boat station. Here
they anxiously awaited the breaking up of
the ice. On the 15th of August a lane of
water appearing, they launched their boats,
embarked their provisions and stores, and
got under way with a fair wind. They

soon reached Barrow's Strait which they
found open and navigable though obstruct-
ed with floating ice. They made rapid
progress until contrary winds met them,
which detained them four days. On the
25th they made Navy Board Inlet where
they landed for the night.

The next morning a sail was seen. Sig-
nals were made but she did not descry
them. A breeze sprang up and the sail
soon vanished from their sight. A second
soon after appeared. The weather be-
came calm, when by hard rowing the boats
approached so near that their signals were
discovered. A boat was now seen coming
from the ship, and on approaching, the
mate asked them if they wanted aid,
supposing them to be the crew of a whale-
man, who had lost their vessel. On being
asked by Captain Ross where their ship
was from and her name, they replied that
it was the Isabella of Hull, formerly com-
manded by Captain Ross. On being told
that this gentleman stood before them, they
replied that it must be a mistake, as he had
been dead at least two years. Captain
Ross soon satisfied them of the reality,
when they hastened to the ship where he
and his party received a most cordial re-
ception. " Every man was hungry, and
had to be fed ; all were ragged and were to
be clothed ; it was washing, dressing, shav-
ing, eating, all intermingled." Then came
a thousand questions and the news of what
had transpired in the woi-ld during their
four years' absence. On the 13th of Sep-
tember they fell in with the fleet of whal-
ers on the fishing ground, when all the cap-
tains came on board to welcome them,
bringing presents from their stores. On
the 30th, the fishery being no longer prac-
ticable, the Isabella left Davis's Straits,
and on the 12th October reached Strom-
ness. The news of the arrival of Captain
Ross spread like lightning through the
kingdom, for no modern enterprise of the
kind had created so strong a sensation.
All hope of their return having fled, they
were now looked on as men risen from
the grave. Crowds rushed to see them
on their way to London. The officers were
all promoted and eligible places given them.
Captain Ross was knighted, and a com-
mittee of the House of Commons recom-
mended a grant of £5000 to him for his
services. In conclusion, it should be ob-

592

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

served that, notwitlistauding the great hard-
ships and exposure of the officers and men

during the four years and a half they were
absent, but two deaths took place.

CAPTAIN BACK'S JOURNEY TO THE POLAR SEA. 1833-4-5.

Captain Back was sent out by the
British government at the head of an ex-
pedition in search of Captain John Ross,
who had then been absent four years, and
for the safety of whose party, great fears
were entertained.

He left England in February 1833, and
following the route of Captain Franklin,
with whom he had been associated in his
two land journeys, reached the eastern
shore of Great Slave Lake, where he took
up his winter quarters. The winter
proved a severe one ; and besides taking
care of his own party, he was obliged to
sustain a party of Indians which had

reached his dwelling in a state of starva-
tion. In April ] S34, while preparing for
his journey northward, Captain Back re-
C3ivedd3spatche3 from England informing
him of the return of Captain Ross. Never-
theless, agreeable to instructions, he made
a journey to the Polar Sea by following
a laree stream, abounding in cataracts,
since known as Back's River. He was
unable to trace but little of the shore of the
sea, and after many hardships, made his
way back to his winter quarters. In the
following year, he returned by the route
he came, to Eno-land.

CAPTAIN BACK'S ATTEMPT TO REACH REPULSE BAY. 1836-37.

The object of this voyage was the same
as that on which Captain Lyon had been
employed in 1824. Captain Back's in-
structions were to proceed to Wager River
or Repulse Bay, as he should find most
expedient. On arriving there he was to
leave his ship with an officer to be em-
ployed in making surveys and observations,
and proceed with a large party across the
intervening land to the Eastern shore of
Prince Regent's Inlet. It was then to
divide ; one party to trace the shore of
this inlet northward, while the other was to
follow the coast line westward to the mouth
of Back's River, and thence to Point Tur-
nagain of Franklin.

The ship Terror was selected for the
expedition, and a total of 73 officers and
men made up the party. They left
England on the 14th of June, 1836, and
on the 2Sth of July, crossed Davis' Strait.
On the 5th of SapLeinber, they had reached
lat. 65 ° 25' opposite to Frozen Strait in
Fox Channel, when they became fixed in
the ice. The ship was tossed about among
the broken ice for several weeks until a

large floe or mass, got beneath her bottom
and raised her high out of the water. Huge
blocks of ice, and gigantic icebergs, at-
tached themselves to, or were thrown
upon the floe, while the ship lay in her icy
cradle, unable, with all the efforts of her
crew, to extricate herself from this dan-
gerous position. November came, and
finding themselves permanently fixed,
Captain Back made his winter arrange-
ments. Galleries and walls of ice and
snow, were built around the ship for places
of shelter as well as to protect her from the
wind. This gave employment to, and fur-
nished amusement for the men. But their
situation was a dreadful one. At times,
huge floes and icebergs were driven upon
them by severe gales, crushing and grind-
ing the floe or ice-island to which they
were bound, threatening every moment to
involve them all in a common destruction.
In this situation they were tossed about at
the mercy of the winds and waves duiing
the Vt'hole winter. On one occasion they
were driven near the rocky cliffs which
bound these dreary and inhospitable seas,

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

593

expecting to share the fate of the icy
masses which rushed by thcrn, and were
ground to atoms against the clifis. Rut
on they floated.

Late in February, " the crasliing of the
ice, the hoarse rushing sound, and the
severe shocks against the ship" indicated a
change, and it was soon found that a rent
had been made in the ice, forming a con-
ti'^nous line of separation directly through
the centre of the floe on which the ship
was mounted.

" The ship now began to complain^ and
strained considerably under the counter. She
then heeled over to port, and relieved herself
about six inches from the starboard embank-
ment against the side, making by the effort,
gaping rents through the snow walls. At
this time, the crashing, grinding, and rushing
walls beneath, as well as at the borders of the
floe, the rents and cracks in all directions
toward the ship, herself suffering much, the
freezing cold of 33^ below zero, combined to
render our situation not a little perilous and
uncomfortable."

But the Terror was not now to be liber-
ated. The ice gave way in part, only to
give place to other floes and masses, which
hemmed her in on every side, and were
piled up around her in the same icy cradle
in which she had so long been rocked.
Away was she borne again in the midst of
the ocean, enveloped in fogs and snow, her
compasses useless, no one knew whither.
The boats were several times got in readi-
ness, and arrangements made in case of

necessity to embark in them as a last
resort, but they were mercifully spared this
crisis.

In this state the ship remained until the
11th of July, when the ice was again rent
asunder, and "a loud rumbling notified
that she had broke her icy bounds, and
was sliding down gently into her own ele-
ment." " I know not," says Back, " how
many cheers commemorated the occasion.
It was a scene not to be forgotten by the
spectators." The ship "crazy, broken,
and leaky" as she was, now made her way
to England as fast as possible, where she
arrived in safety.

This sketch of the various Arctic Ex-
peditions should not be concluded without
mentioning the important services rendered
by Messrs. Dease and Simpson. These
gentlemen fitted out a boat expedition
under the direction of the Hudson Bay
Company, with which they completed the
discovery and survey of the shores of the
Arctic Sea, by connecting the discoveries
of Franklin and Beechey west of Macken-
zie's River, and those of Franklin, Back,
and Ross, east of Coppermine River.
These gentlemen made the longest voyage
in boats, ever performed in the Arctic
Seas. The explorations and discoveries of
Dr. Rae about Repulse Bay and Boothia
completing the survey of the shores about
these regions are also of importance, and
deserve to be mentioned here.

SIR JOHN FRANKLIN'S EXPEDITION, 1845-6-7-8-9-50.

In December 1S44, Sir John Barrow,
submitted a proposition to the British Ad-
miralty and to the Royal Society for an-
other expedition for discovery in the Arctic
Seas, from which we make the following
abstract :

Proposal for an attempt to complete the
DISCOVERY of a north WEST PASSAGE. — There
is a general feeling entertained in the several
scientific societies, by individuals attached to
scientific pursuits, and also among officers of
the navy, that the discovery, or rather the com-
pletion of the discovery of a passage from the
Atlantic to the Pacific, round the northern

coast of America, ought not to be abandoned,
after so much has been done, and so little now
remains to be done, and that with our ])resent
knowledge no reasonable doubt can be enter-
tained that the accomplishment of so desirable
an object is practicable.

A brief sketch then follows of what had
been accomplished by the several Polar ex-
peditions :

" It may be presumed, therefore, that a dis-
tance of 300 leagues on a clear sea, keeping
midway between Banks' Land and the coast
of America, would accomplish an object which,
at intervals during 300 years, has engaged the

594

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

attention of crowned heads, men of science,
and mercantile bodies, wliose expectations
were frecjuently disappointed, but not discour-
aged." * * * Furthermore, Sir John
Barrow observes, "that a final attempt to
make a north-west passage would render the
most important service that now remains to
be performed towards the completion of the
magnetic survey of the globe ; and it is hardly
necessary to say, that the geography and
hydrography of this part of the Polar Sea
"would be a valuable addition to our know-
ledge of the globe, and well deserving the at-
tention of a power like England."

■ The plan received a favorable consider-
ation, and after a little consultation was
adopted. Sir John Franklin had but just
returned from Van Dieman's I^and on the
opposite side of the globe, having been go-
vernor of that colony for several years, and
was at once given the command of the ex-
pedition. The ships selected were the
Erebus and Terror. His second in com-
mand was Captain Crozier, (who accom-
panied Captain Ross in his Antartic ex-
pedition.) These, with 136 officers, sea-
men and marines made up the party. This
expedition left England on the 19th of May
1845.

Their official instructions were to proceed
•np Lancaster Sound and Barrow's Strait
to Cape Walker, a point noticed by Captain
Parry from which the land trended south-
ward. If an opening presented here, they
were to avail themselves of it, and push on
towards Behring's Strait. In case this
course proved impracticable, their orders
then were, to attempt the openings at the
north of Barrow's Strait, particularly Wel-
lington Channel, if it should be clear of ice,
as it was when Captain Parry passed in his
first voyage. He wsiS then directed to pro-
ceed westward towards Behring's Strait.

To accomplish this, it was believed that
three years would suffice ; and in case the
expedition should be unsuccessful, the same
period would be required in their endea-
vors to penetrate the several passages re-
ferred to. Provisions for three years were
accordingly placed on board, and every-
thing which could tend to the comfort and
health of the party was added. The ships,
too, were made strong, that they might
withstand the pressure from the ice to
which they would be subjected, and the
most approved means were adopted to warm
and ventilate them. "

Considerable discretionary power was
given to Sir John Franklin, notwithstand-
ing these instructions, for they continue :

In an undertaking of this description, much
must always be left to the discretion of the
commanding officer ; and as the objects of this
expedition have been fully explained to you,
and you already have had much experience
on service ai this nature, we are convinced
that we cannot do better than leave it to your
judgment, in the event of your not making
a passage this season, either to winter on the
coast, with the view of following up next sea-
son any hopes or expectations which your
observations this year may lead you to enter-
tain, or to return to England to report to us the
result of such observations, always recollect-
ing an anxiety for the health, comfort, and
safety of yourself, your officers and men ; and
you will duly weigh how far the advantage
of starting next season for an advanced posi-
tion may be counterbalanced by what may be
suflered during the winter, and by the want of
such refreshment and refitting as would be af-
forded on your return to England."

On the 26tn July 1845, these ships were
seen moored to an iceberg, in latitude 74°
48', longitude 66° 13' W., a point near by
the middle of Baffin's Bay, and opposite
Lancaster Sound, no doubt waiting for au
opening through the floating or " Middle
Ice," which is always found in this bay.
This was the last seen of the ships.

The probability is that the middle ice was
passed, and that the ships entered Lancas-
ter Sound ; but what course they took after-
wards is, of course, not known. ISo trace
has been found of them on the shores visit-
ed by the various whaling vessels.

In the year 1848, no tidings having been
received from Sir John Franklin, the Bri-
tish Admiralty and the friends of the in-
trepid navigator, determined to send out
vessels for his succor. Three expeditions
were accordingly equipped by the Govern-
ment, to be dispatched in different direc-
tions.

The first vessel which sailed was the
Plover, under Captain Moore. She left
England on the 31st January, 1848, ex-
pecting to reach Behring's Strait by
August, which would have given time for
two months' exploration of the Arctic Sea.
But proving a bad sailer, she only reached
the Sandwich Islands on the 22d August,
a period too late to make the attempt.
Capt. Moore accordingly proceeded to th©

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

595

coast of Kamstehatka, where ho wintered.

The Herald, a surveying vessel employed
in the Pacific, under command of Captain
Kellett, was directed to join the Plover at
some point near Behring's Strait. Capt.
Kellett was ordered to take her under his
direction, and search the Polar Sea north
of that strait for Sir John Franklin.

The s3Cond expedition was placed under
the command of Sir John Richardson, a
gentleman who had distinguished himself
in the overland expedition of Sir John
Franklin many years before. His instruc-
tions were to proceed overland to Mac-
kenzie's River ; to follow that river to the
Arctic Sea, and then with boats to examine
the coast extending to the mouth of the
Coppermine River, as well as the lands
contiguous thereto. It was supposed that
if Sir John Franklin had abandoned his
ships and taken to his boats, or if he had
sent out any parties to explore, they would
have made every exertion to reach this
coast. From this point they could pro-
ceed either to the Russian settlement at
Colville River, or overland to Hudson's
Bay or Montreal.

The third and most important division
of the relief expeditions, was that under
Sir James Ross and Captain Bird, in the
ships Enterprise and Investigator. This
expedition was directed to enter Barrow's
Strait, to examine the prominent points of
land as it passed up, particularly the points
leading up Wellington Channel on the
north and Cape Walker on the south, for
traces of the missing expedition, and then
to proceed westward towards Melville
Island. On this division a much greater
sum had been expended than on the others ;
the ships were provisioned so as to enable
them to winter in the Arctic regions, which
would give them two summers for their
explorations. They were to follow the
supposed track of Sir John Franklin ; and,
of course, great hopes were entertained of
the success of the expedition.

The fourth and last division was simply
a store-ship called the North Star, Mr.
Saunders commanding. This vessel was
laden with supplies for the Franklin expe-
dition. " The main object of the voyage
was, first, by replenishing the stock of
provisions m the ships of Sir James Ross,
to prevent the return of the Investigator,

Capt. Bird, to England in the summer of
1849, in order that Captain Tird with
his ship might continue to co-operate with
Sir James Ross in prosecuting his search
during the summer of 1850 ; and, secondly
in case of not mcetino- with the Investiga-
tor or her boats, to land the necessary sup-
plies at certain points on the south side of
Lancaster Sound and Barrow's Strait.
The preference was to be given to Whaler
Point on Leopold Island. If these places
were inaccessible, the supplies were to be
left at Pond's Bay. This being accom-
plished, the North Star was then to run up
to the head of Baffin's Bay and examine
the openings known as Smith's and Jones's
Sounds. " But it was ordered, and the
order was reiterated," says Dr. Scoresby,
" that the commander of the North Star
should carefully avoid risking all hazard of
being detained throughout the winter."

Such were the four expeditions sent in
search of Sir John Franklin, from all of
which we have heard except the last.
Their results we will now proceed to state.

The Herald and Plover proceeded to
Behring's Strait for their winter quarters,
in the summer of 1849, arriving at Cham-
isso Island, their place of rendezvous with-
in the straits, on the 14th of July ; one
vessel preceding the other by a day only.
They were joined here by a private yacht,
the Nancy Dawson, belonging to and com-
manded by Mr. Sheddon. The object of
this gentleman was to search for and aid
Sir John Franklin. He was last from
Hono; Kong'.

On the 18th of July they sailed on their
voyage of research. Passing Icy Cape, a
boat expedition was arranged and de-
spatched on the 25th, consisting of the
Herald's pinnace, decked over, and three
other boats. The Nancy Dawson joined
them ; when this expedition of small craft
boldly pushed its way into the Arctic Sea
for some distance beyond Point Barrow.
Here, according to instructions, they de-
spatched two whale boats under the com-
mand of Lieutenant Pullen, fully pro-
visioned and equipped for separate service.
These boats were directed to proceed
along, and examine the coast as far aa
Mackenzie's River for traces of the miss-
ing ships ; and, if they attained that point,
were to ascend the river to Fort Hope,

596

Arctic Expeditions.

June,

and return by the way of York Factory,
a trading post on Hudson's Bay, in tlxe
summer of the present year.

The Herald, after despatching the boat
expedition to Mackenzie's River, advanced
to the northward, until the 28th July,
when she reached the great field of pack
ice, which stopped her further progress.
This was in latitude 72^ 51' N. and long-
itude 163° 48' W. From this time until
the 17th of August, the ship continued to
force her way along the edge of the pack,
es;.ploriug the region between the extreme
northern point of the American coast and
the contiguous parts of Asia, when land
was discovered from the mast head. The
details of these explorations are given with
minuteness in the official report of Capt.
Kellett ; but as they embrace no events of
importance until land was seen, they are
passed over. The particulars of the dis-
covery alluded to are of interest, and are
given in ovdor to complete our narrative.
The island visited was in latitude 71^ 20'
N., longitude 175° 16' W :

" In running a course along the pack towards
our first discovery, a small group of islands was
reported on our port beam, a considerable distance
within the outer margin of the ice.

" The pack here was not so close as I found it
before. Lanes of water could be seen reaching
almost up to the group, but too narrow to enter
unless the ship had been sufficiently fortified to
force a hole for herself.

" These small islands at intervals were very dis-
tinct, and were not considered at the time very
distant.

" Still more distant than this group (from the
deck) a very extensive and high land was reported,
which I had been watching for some time, and
anxiously awaited a report from some one else.

" From the time land was reported until we
hove to under it, we ran 25 miles directly lor it.
At first we could not see that the pack joined it,
but as we approached the island we found the
pack to rest on the island, and to extend from it
as far as the eye could reach to the E. S. E.

" The weather, which had been fine all day,
now changed suddenly to dense clouds and snow
showers, blowing fresh from the south, with so
much sea that I did not anchor as I intended.

" I left the ship with two boats ; the senior lieu-
tenant, Mr. Maguire ; Mr. Seemann, naturalist ;
and Mr. CoUinson, mate, in one ; Mr. Goodridge,
surgeon, Mr. Pakenham, midshipman, and myself
in the other, almost despairing of being able to
reach the island.

" The ship kept off" and on outside the thickest
part of the loose ice, through which the boats were
obliged to be very careful in picking their way, on
the S. E. side, where I thought I might have ascend-
ed. We reached the island, and found running on it

a very heavy sea ; the first lieutenant, however, land'
ed, having backed his boat in until he could get foot'
hold (without swimming,) and then jumped over-
board. I followed his example ; the others were
anxious to do the same, but the sea was so high
that I could not permit them.

" We hoisted the jack and took possession of
the island with the usual ceremonies, in the name
of her most gracious Majesty Queen Victoria.

" The extent we had to walk over was not
more than 30 feet. From this space and a short
distance that we scrambled up, we collected eight
species of plants; specunens of the rock were also
brought away.

" With the time we could spare and our ma-
terials, the island was perfectly inaccessible to us.
This was a great disappointment to us, as from
its summit, which is elevated above the sea 1,400
feet, much could have been seen, and all doubt set
aside, more particularly as I knew the moment I
got on board I should be obliged to carry sail to
get off the pack and out of the bight of it we were
in ; neither could I e.xpect at this late period of the
season the weather would improve.

" The island on which I landed is four miles
and a half in extent east and west, and about two
and a half north and south, in the shape of a
triangle, the western end being its apex. It is
almost inaccessible on all sides, and a solid mass
of granite. Innumerable black and white divers
(common to this sea) here found a safe place to
deposit their eggs and bring up their young ; not
a walrus or seal was seen on its shore, or on the
ice in its vicinity. We observed here none of the
small land birds that were so numerous about us
before making the land.

" It becomes a nervous thing to report a dis-
covery of land in these regions without actually
landing on it, after the unfortunate mistake to the
southward ; but so far as a man can be certain,
who has 130 pairs of eyes to assist him, all agree-
ing, I am certain we have discovered an extensive
land. I think, also, it is more than probable that
these peaks we saw are a continuation of the
range of mountains seen by the natives off Cape
Jakan (coast of Asia), mentioned by Baron Wran-
gell in his Polar voyages. I returned to the ship
at 7 P. M,, and very reluctantly made all the sail
we could carry from this interesting neighborhood
to the south-east, the wind at the time allow-
ing me to lie just clear of the pack.

" August 18. — Towards the morning we had a
very strong wind, with constant snow storms and
excessive cold. The wind having changed to the
northward left me no choice but to return to my
rendezvous for the boats."

No traces of Sir John Franklin were met
with by the Herald, the Plover, or their
boats, as far as heard from. The Plover
was then equipped and provisioned for the
winter, and after making other researches,
was directed to take up her winter quarters
in Kotzebue Sound. From this place
Captain Moore will continue his explora-
tions during the summer of 1850, in search
of the missing expedition.

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

597

The second expedition in order is that of
Sir John Richardson. This gentleman,
accompanied by Dr. Rae, left Liverpool
on the 25th of March, 1S48, arrived in
New York a fortnight afterwards, and
proceeded at once to Montreal. Here he
was joined by 16 Canadian voyageurs, pro-
vided by Sir George Simpson, when the
party proceeded on their journey by the way
of Lakes Ontario, Erie, Huron, Superior,
Lake of the Woods, and Lake Winipeg,
reaching Cumberland House on the 19th
of June. A few days after, vSir John over-
took the party which left England before
him, under Mr. Rae, and had come by
way of Hudson's Bay. This party con-
sisted of 16 Canadian voyageurs, with a
large batteau, four boats brought from
England, with theu* crews of five seamen
and fifteen sappers and miners. The pro-
visions and stores for the expedition wei'e
also brought by this party. On passing
the last portage, the two canoes, with their
crews, were sent to Canada. The party
again divided on reaching Mackenzie's
River. Sir John Richardson and Mr.
Rae proceeded with two boats and their
crews down Mackenzie's River, while Mr.
Bell, with the remainder of the party, took
the winter stores and hastened to Great
Beur Lake, to establish a fishery, as well
as to erect dwelling-houses and storehouses
for the whole party, when it should as-
semble for its winter quarters. Two men
were also despatched to the mouth of
Coppermine River, there to hunt and
await the arrival of the boats.

Sir John reached the sea on the 4th of
August, and had an interview with about
300 Esquimaux, who were collected to
meet him, having been apprised of his
coming by signal fires lighted by their
hunting parties on the hills skirting the
river. The distance from Point Encounter
where they met this party, to the mouth of
Coppermine River, including the large in-
flexions of the coast line, is upwards of
600 miles ; and as they had almost con-
stantly head winds, they rowed along near
the shore. Their communications with
the Esquimaux, assembled on the head-
lands to hunt whales, or in pursuit of rein-
deer, were frequent. They came ofi" to
the boats with confidence, and through the
medium of an Esquimaux in the party of
Sir John, who spoke good English, they

were able to converse freely together.
These Esquimaux invariably told them
that no ships had passed, and were rejoiced
to learn by the mquiries made of them,
that there was a prospect of their seeing
more white men on their shores. Up to
Cape Bathurst, or about one third of the
distance between the Mackenzie and
Coppermine, the Esquimaux informed
them that for six weeks of the summer, or,
as they expressed it, for the greator part
of two moons, during which they were
chiefly occupied in the pursuit of whales,
they never saw any ice.

At Cape Bathurst they erected a signal
post, and deposited a case of pemmican.
Similar deposits were made on other promi-
nent points.

After rounding Cape Parry, they ob-
served for the first time on their voyage,
flows of drift ice, which increased as they
advanced. No Esquimaux were seen here,
though traces of them were noticed.

On the 22d of August the weather sud-
denly changed, and became cold. Snow
storms were frequent, and the progress of
the boats was much impeded by the new
ice. After much labor, in hauling the
boats over the ice, in making portages
along the shore, and with the aid of oc-
casional spaces of water, the party succeed-
ed in reaching a point near the mouth of
Coppermine River by the end of the month.
Here they left their boats, buried their
provisions and ammunition, and on the 3d
of September, with thirteen days' pro-
visions, set out on foot for their winter
quarters, at Fort Confidence, which they
reached in safety on the thirteenth day.

In the spring of 1849, Mr. Rae volim-
teered his services, with an excellent crew
of experienced voyageurs, to proceed to
the mouth of the Coppermine River, there
to take their boats, and about the middle
of July, at which time the sea is open, ex-
plore the region northward. His intention
was to cross over to Wollaston Land, and
endeavor to penetrate to the northward,
erectino- signal columns, and making de-
posits on prominent headlands, and espe-
cially on the north shore of Banks' Land,
should he be fortunate enough to reach
that coast. He was directed to return
during the summer ; also to engage one or
more families of Indian hunters to pass the
svunmer of 1850 on the banks of Copper-

598

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

mine River, to be ready to assist any party
that may direct their course tliat way.

The results of the third expedition, or
that under Sir James Ross, comes next in
order. He sailed from England on the
12th of May, 1S4S ; entered Baffin's Bay
early in July ; and left the Danish settle-
ment of Upernavik on the 13th of the
same month. He met with great diffi-
culty in passing the middle ice, and it was
not till the 20th of August that he suc-
ceeded in reaching the clear water in lati-
tude 7d^j degrees north, and longitude 68
degrees west. The ships now proceeded
to the western shores of Baffin's Bay,
which they followed, and closely exam-
ined for traces of Sir John Franklin. Sig-
nals were erected on all the prominent
points, and casks were thrown overboard
containing papers with information for the
missing party, should they discover them.
The shores of Barrow Strait, both north
and south, were examined, as well as the
entrance to Wellington Channel, which
was closed with ice, and did not appear to
have been open during the summer. Their
progress westward was also stopped by the
pack ice, which stretched across Barrow
Strait, so that the only alternative seems
to have been to secure a harbor for the
winter in Leopold Island, into which the
ships entered on the 1 1th of September,
1848.

On the 15th of May, 1849, Sir James
Ross left the ship with Lieut McClintock
and a party of twelve men, taking 40 days'
provisions. These, with the clothing,
were lashed to two sledges. The party
followed the shore of North Somerset,
westward to Cape Rennel, when the land
trended to the south west, and afterwards
to the south. They followed all the in-
dentations of the coast until the 5th of
June, when, having consumed more than
half their provisions, and several of the
party being disabled, they abandoned fur-
ther operations. Returning, they reached
the ships on the 23d of June, after an ab-
sence of 40 days.

During the absence of Sir James, other
parties were sent out to explore the north
shore of Barrow Strait ; the east of Prince
Regent's Inlet ; and a third to examine a
portion of its western shore. Very little
was accomplished by these parties. No
traces of the missing ships were discovered

by either Sir James Ross or the other ex-
ploratory parties referred to.

During the winter a great many whito
foxes were taken alive in traps set for the
purpose ; and as it is well known how
large a tract of country these creatures
traverse in search of food, copper collars,
upon which a notice of the position of the
ships and depots of provisions was engrav-
ed, were clenched around their necks, when
they were set at liberty. It was hoped
that intelligence might, by this means, be
conveyed to the crews of the missing vessels.

The season being late, without a pros-
pect of immediate release from their win-
ter quarters. Sir James Ross employed his
men in sawing a canal two miles long
through the ice, wide enough to admit the
passing of the ships. Even by this means,
which v^'as attended with immense labor,
he only reached the open sea and liberated
his ships on the 28th of August.

Sir James now intended making all haste
to reach a westerly point and, if possible,
Melville Island, during the short season
that remained ; but he had gone but twelve
miles when his further progress was arrest-
ed by fixed pack ice, which had not broken
away during the season. He watched an
opportunity to push his way through any
opftning that might be presented, when a
strong wind from the westward brought
the whole pack down upon, and closely
beset the ships. All attempts to extricate
themselves proved fruitless. Vast fields of
ice and gigantic icebergs surrounded them
for miles in all directions, and they soon
perceived that the whole body was driving
eastward, at the rate of eight or ten miles
a day. " Every effiirt on our part," says
Captain Ross, *' was totally unavailing ;
for no human power could have moved
the ships a single inch." In this man-
ner they drifted until the 25th of Septem-
ber, by which time they had been carried
completely through Barrow wStrait into the
centre of Baffin's Bay. Here new dan-
gers attended them ; tossed about among
the icebergs of that boisterous sea, and
surrounded by a field of ice 50 miles in
circumference, they were in fear of being
carried to the western shore of that bay,
and crushed among its innumerable ice-
bergs. But on the day named, the great
ice-field was rent asunder, and the ships
made their escape to the eastward.

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

599

Another season had now passed ; all the
harbors were closed with ice, and it was too
late to recross the pack. The only alter-
native was to return to England, where
they arrived early in November.

Thus terminated an expedition on which
the hopes of the English nation were
centred. It was the best arranged of any
division sent in search of Sir John Frank-
lin ; and the seas Sir James Ross was di-
rected to penetrate and examine were
those wherein Sir John was believed to
have passed, and, if still living, where it
was believed he could be found. But mis-
fortune seems to have attended the expe-
dition from its start. The first season was
spent in passing the middle ice of BaflBn's
Bay, and they barely reached Leopold
Island in time to secure a winter harbor.
The selection of this was unfortunate, as
the ice remained in it during the whole
summer ; and a month before Captain
Ross made his escape, whaling ships were
in sight of it or had passed it. The last
and most serious disaster was in being
swept from their exploring field at the mo-
ment they entered it ; for it is probable
that, had the expedition remained in its
harbor at Leopold Island a few days long-
er, until the great field of ice had passed,
it would have found an open sea to the
westward .

From the foregoing it will appear that
there are now three parties in the Arctic
Seas in search of the missing ships.

1. The North Star store-ship. This
vessel has already been in these seas one
season. She was last seen on the 19th
July 1849, in latitude 74° 3' N., longitude
59o 40' VV., waiting for a passage round
or through the middle ice of Baifin's Bay.
It is to be hoped she succeeded in reaching
some point beyond that attained by Sir
James Ross up Barrow Strait, or that she
has passed up Wellington Channel. Her
return will be looked for duiing the ap-
proaching season or autumn with much in-
terest.

2. The party under Dr. Rae. This ex-
pedition was to be at the mouth of Copper-
mine River on the 1st of July, 1849, or at
a period when he might avail himself of the
earliest opening of the ice in the Polar Sea
to push forward with his boats thiough the
passage between WoUaston and Victoria
Lands ; and from thence work his way to-

wards Cape Walker on Barrow Strait, and
Banks' Land. Much will be expected from
this enterpiise. Dr. Rae will have a full
season before him, and it is believed with
confidence, that the addition he will make
to our Arctic geography will be greater
than that of other recent Arctic navigators.
If Sir John Franklin was successful in
reaching Cape Walker, and in passing south
or west of that point, some trace will be
discovered of his expedition. As this party
intended to return to some post on Hud-
son's Bay before the winter set in, the re-
sult of their examination will reach Eng-
land in April or May of the present year.

It appears by a recent despatch of Sir
George Simpson, Governor of the Hud-
son's Bay Company, that Dr. Rae has been
instructed to continue his examination in the
Arctic Sea, and along its shores during the
present year. To send out two expedi-
tions, one to be commanded by himself.
One of these is to examine such portions
of the region lying between Banks' Land,
Cape Walker and the Coppermine River,
as had not been visited in 1 S49 ; the other
to be despatched from the mouth of Mac-
kenzie River. Rewards were to be offered
to the Esquimaux and the half-breed Indian
hunters of Mackenzie River, to search for
some vestige of the missing expedition.

8. The Plover, under Captain Moore.
This vessel wintered in Kotzebuo Sound,
north of Behi ing's Strait, and will continue
her explorations during the present season
in the seas of that quarter.

4. The party despatched from the Plo-
ver and Herald, near Point Barrow, un-
der the command of Lii-utenunt Pullen.
This consisted of two whale boats 27 feet
in length, and one baidar^ a boat made and
used by the Esquimaux, manned in all
with fourteen persons. They were provid-
ed with provisions for 100 days, besides a
quantity of pennuican to be d potiled for
any of Sir John Franklin's pa,ty which
might reach the coast. Li.;uten:int PuUen's
instructions were to examine the coast of
the Arctic Sea to Mackenzie's River. He
was then to ascend that river, and make
his way to York Factory on Hudson's Bay.

5. In addition to those three parties
which were left in the field last year, other
expeditions of greater magnitude are in pro-
gro^s of preparation in England, or have
already taken their departure for the Arc-

600

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

tic regions. The ships Enterprise and In-
vestigator^ lately under the command of
Captain Sir James Ross, have already been
refitted, and were despatched from Eng-
land on the 12th of January ; the Enter-
prise, under command of Capt. CoUinson,
and the Investigator under Lieut. Maclure,
who served in the Enterprise in her late
voyage. Measures have been taken by the
Admiralty to give these vessels the aid of
steamers in passing the Straits of Magellan
and on to Valparaiso, in order to quicken
their voyages and enable them to reach
Behring Strait in time for continuing the
search for Sir John Franklin during the
present season. Should information be re-
ceived from the missing expedition, or any
further light be thrown upon it by other
expeditions now out, additional orders are to
be sent by Panama to meet the ships at
the Sandwich Islands.

But the eiforts to render succor to the
missing ships do not end here, as the search
within Behring Strait is to be continued
until the close of the summer of 1853.
This search will be committed to Captain
Moore with the Plover beyond the time
prescribed to Captain Colliuson for his op-
. erations. Such a course seems necessary
for the purpose of affording relief to Sir
John Franklin or any of his party who may
reach that region, as well as for affording aid
to or co-operating with other expeditions.

6. The last steamer from England brings
advices that the British Admiralty have
decided on two more expeditions to be sent
out during the present spring, as follows.
The first will consist of two sailing ships,
the Baboo and Ptarmigan^ and two steam-
ers, the Eider and Free Trader. These
will be sent to Barrow's Strait and adjacent
localities under the command of Captain
Austin, who acted as first Lieutenant of the
Fitry^ in Parry's third voyage in 1824.

These vessels will have a crew of 30
men each and will be fitted and stored with
- full three year's provisions.

7. The Admiralty have also planned
' another exp3dition,of which Captain Penny,
late of the Advice whaler, is to have the
command. This will consist of the Lady
Franklin and Sophia, which will also be fit-
ted with three years' provisions, and will
have a complement of 50, being 25 for each
ship. Captain Penny left town last even-
ing for Aberdeen and Dundee, to person-

ally superintend the fitting of his vessels ;
and it is expected that he will be ready to sail
for Jones' Sound by the first week in April.

8. It is also stated in a late London pa-
per that the veteran Polar navigator. Sir
John Ross is pushing on his expedition,
and yesterday proceeded to Troon, Ayr-
shire, on the Clyde, to purchase a new ves-
sel not yet launched. Mr. Abernethy, late
gunner of the Enterprise, it was stated,
was to accompany the gallant ofiiccr. The
question of security to the crew of his ves-
sel for their pay has been raised in many
quarters. It is said the vessel is to be insur-
ed, if any office will take her ; and should
she return she will be sold, and the proceeds
will form the means of paying the wages.

Thus, it will be perceived that there are
now, and will be, in the field during the
approaching summer, eight different expe-
ditions, embracing twelve vessels, including
two steamers and two parties in boats ; all
devoted to the noble and pi-aiseworthy ob-
ject of affording assistance to or rescuing
Sir John Franklin and his associates from
their ice-bound and dreary home.

The Rev. Dr. Scoresby, whose long ex-
perience in early life in the Greenland
Seas, aided by much valuable information
collected in his voyages there and by sub-
sequent scientific investigations, has thrown
out some considerations for the discovery
and relief of the missing ships, which seems
more feasible and more likely to be attend-
ed with favorable results than any before
projected. His plan is to procure two ves-
sels, such as are used for whaling ; two
smaller craft of about 100 tons burden, or
less ; and a well equipped boat, to be man-
aged as follows : —

" The largest vessel of the series (which
might be a whaler) would be appointed to
take position in, or not remote from Port Leo-
pold ; another vessel — say the next largest —
might take up a position as a second depot and
place of refuge, at Melville Island. A third
— a small vessel — would be directed to the
west side of Cape Walker, for penetrating
from thence, as far as she conveniently might,
to the south-westward, should the position of
the land and the condition of the ice permit in
that direction. The other small vessel would
have assigned to her the search of Welling-ton
Channel, and other inlets proceeding out of
Barrow's Strait northward; whilst the boat
being dropped, after the passage of the ' mid-
die ice,' might undertake, with great advan-

1850.]

Arctic Expeditions.

601

lage, the researches which are still requisite
within the different indents of the upper part
of Baffin's Bay (principally that of Jones's
Sound, and secondarily that of Smith's Sound,
with any other penetrable channels that might
he discovered), such inlets seeming to promise
additional outlets, westward, after the manner
of Lancaster Sound.

"The boat, acting independently, would be
no burden on, or incumbrance to, any of the

exploring vessels The boat would

seelv its own safety at the close of its opera-
tions, by going up to the refuge-ships at Port
Leopold, or by endeavoring to join some one
of the whalers, by which the boat's crew might
obtain a passage home."

From these vessels parties might be sent
off in various directions, and examine a
wider field than has yet bsen explored.
Even if they traversed the distance which
Sir James Ross went on foot during the
spring of 1849, before he left Leopold
Island, much might be accomplished. He
then explored 500 miles of coast in the
space of forty days, and on his return, had
the whole summer before him. But his
efforts were confined to releasing his ships
from their winter harbor, with a view of
penetrating westward, and of course small
parties could not be spared for separate
explorations. With vessels stationed at
prominent places, as suggested by Dr.
Scoresby, to be employed for depots of
provisions, and as rallying points for the
crews of the smaller vessels, as well as for
their winter quarters, more could be ac-
complished in an examination of the Arctic
regions, with a view of relieving Sir John
Franklin, than by any other plan. Even
if they fail in attaining their object, they will
then have acquired more geographical in-
formation than has been accomplished by
any previous expedition.

We are strongly impressed with the
opinion, that if the barrier of floating ice
which exists in the higher latitudes of the
North Polar sea can be passed, that an open
and unobstructed sea may then be found.
Dr. Scoresby, as has been stated, once
passed this barrier, which was not at that
time broad, when he entered an open sea.
Sir Edward Parry, in his attempt to reach
the Pole over the broken ice, found this
ice moving southward in a body, so that
after an arduous journey of 10 or 15 miles,
he found by observation that he had not
gained more than a third that distance.

The barrier on this occasion and at this
place, must have been very wide, or he
would have passed it and reached the clear
sea beyond. Throughout all the Arctic Seaa
the course of the currents are southward •
hence, when the ice is loosened and broken
up, it moves with the current. A similar
barrier was found in the Antarctic Seas,
which was crossed by Captains Wilkes and
Ross, and open water found beyond. Now
if Sir John Franklin in passing up Wellin'T-
ton Channel, crossed this barrier (supposing
the sea to exist north of that channel) he
may have passed far to the west, and we
may hear of him beyond Behiing's Strait
or off the northern coast of Siberia. In
these seas he would find whales and seals
which would support his party for a lono-
time.

In the United States a deep sympathy
is felt for ^ir John Franklin and his brave
associates, arid numerous appeals have been
made by the' press to the Government and
to philanthropic individuals in his behalf.
The President has already sent a messao-e
to Congress, recommending the fittln<r out
of an expedition to be sent in search of the
bold adventurers who have perilled their
lives in the cause of science. ]\Iany offi-
cers of our Navy have applied for the hon-
or of commanding the expedition, or of
accompanying it ; and it now only awaits
the tardy action of Congress before equip-
ping the ships.

But this is not all. While the country
is awaiting the slow movements at Wash-
ington, Henry Grinnell, Esq., a noble
and public-spirited merchant of New York
has pome forward, and proposes to furnish,
at his own expense, two vessels of 100 tons
each, well equipped and provisioned, for
the Arctic Seas. To render them more
efficient, he offers to place them at the dis-
posal of the Secretary of the Navy, to be
officered and manned by him. These ves-
sels will be despatched early, so as to be in
Lancaster Sound as soon as it is clear of ice,
and to search the various openings into Bar-
row's Strait at the earliest period possible.

In conclusion, it will be asked, What
are the prospects that Sir John Franklin
and his party survive ? These it will be
proper to consider.

The expedition took full supplies for
three years. It has been absent nearly five
years. If it appeared to Sir John that he

602

Arctic Expeditions.

[June,

mio'ht bo kept in the Polar regions lonsjer
than liis provisions warranted, ne might,
by lessoning the allowance, make them
last four years. And when his provisions
were entirely exhausted, it is believed that
he might, by fishing and the chase, pro-
cure a supply for his entire 'crew. This,
of course, depends very much upon his
situation. Some portions of these regions
abound in game, while others are nearly
destitute. Capt. Parry, during his stay of
nearly twelvemonths at Melville Island,
added the following game to his stock of
provisions : — 3 musk oxen, 24 deer, 68
hares, 53 geese, 59 ducks, and 114 ptar-
migans ; amounting in weight to 3766 lbs.
of meat, or 3 1-2 pounds per month to
each man. All this was obtained with but
little effort, as hunting paities were oc-
casionally sent out. Further south, on
Victoria and WoUaston Lands, game is
abundant. Here thousands of deer resort
every spring, and game of every kind is
plenty. Seals too, are common in these
seas, and are easily shot, their curiosity
rendering them an easy prey to parties in
boats. Again, we have an example of Mr.
Rae, who, while employed in Arctic ex-
plorations, was obliged to spend the winter
on the shores of Repulse Bay. His only
fuel consisted of the withered tufts of an
herbaceous andromeda, and his whole party
maintained themselves by the chase alone
during a whole year.

With men of robust constitution, (and
none other have been, or should be selected
for these polar voyages,) the climate does
not disagree. The deaths have been no
more, if as many, as they would be under
other circumstances. Parry, in his first
voyage of eighteen months, lost but one
man out of his crew ; and Ross, notwith-
standing the severe hardships and suffering
of his party, shut up for four winters among
the ice, one of which was passed in a can-
vas house, lost but two men. If whales
or seals, therefore, can be found, there is
no doubt but Sir John Franklin and his
party may subsist for years. They would
suffer most for the want of vegetables, but
it is known that he was well provided with
anti-scorbutics ; and during the summer
season, sorrell, which is the best anti-scor-
butic, is found in abundance on the islands
north of Barrow's Strait.

There may be reasons why the party

have not abandoned their ships and sought
the shores of the Arctic Sea, near the
Coppermine and Mackenzie Rivers, whence
they might proceed to the trading posts.
In the first place, if they passed up Wel-
lington Channel, they may be too far north
to run the risk of attempting a journey on
the ice, but would prefer remaining with
their ships, in the hope that they might be
able to escape during the summer. They
may have attained a point far to the west-
ward towards Behring's Strait, where they
are surrounded by the ice, and from which
there is no escape, except with their ships.
If here, they would be in the midst of
whales, on which they could subsist for
years. Sir John Ross, it will be remem-
bered, was shut up for years in the
Arctic seas, and finally escaped ; and we
may entertain strong hopes that Sir John
Franklin will yet return. It would be an
extraordinary event to annihilate two
ships, with 138 men, so completely that
none should escape ; that none of them
should have reached the Esquimaux, or be
seen by them ; or that no trace or frag-
ment of the ships should be left or dis-
covered. Vessels, it is true, are often wreck-
ed and crushed by the ice in the Polar
Seas, but it is very rare that the crews per-
ish ; in fact, no recent cases are on record.
Since the foregoing was in type, advices
have been received by Anthony Barclay,
Esq., British Consul at New York for
Minesota, that intelligence had been re-
ceived overland from the expeditions un-
der the command of Lieutenant PuUen and
Dr. Rae ; and that they had fulfilled their
instructions without finding any traces of
the missing ships. The course which the
former was to pursue is known ; but with
the extent of i3r. Rae'sexplorations we are
not yet informed. If he reached Banks'
Land and Cape Walker, it is then almost
certain that Franklin did not reach either
of these points, but entered some of the
openings on the northern side of Barrow's
Strait, probably Wellington Channel.
This opinion we have entertained from the
beginning, inasmuch as it presented more
flattering prospects for reaching the west,
than any other yet known. In this direc-
tion he has not yet been sought, and it is
to be hoped that the expeditions now fit-
ting out will send exploring parties into
every opening north of Barrow 'S Strait.

1850.]

Everstone,

603

EVERSTONE

BY THE AUTHOR OF " ANDERPORT RECORDS."

(Continued from page b\\.)

CHAPTER XII.

We looked over Somers' shoulder when,
in the dishabille of an invalid, he opened
.the first missive that came from his North-
ern cUent. After an interval of something
like two months he receives a second. The
note lies spread open on his office table at
Daylsborough, and invites inspection :

" Dear Sir— My daughter has contract-
ed to purchase from Caleb Schrowder his
adjoining tract of land, the metes and
bounds of which you are well aware of.
The price is nine dollars per acre. She
■requests, sir, that if your engagements per-
mit, you will be good enough to draw up
for her in proper form, (but without any
clause of warranty) a deed of bargain .and
sale. Hoping to hear from you at your
earliest convenience, I remain,

Sir, your very obedient Servant,

April 20th. Sylvester Newlove."

It is unquestionably a laconic document,
but seems to have been composed in the
much recommended suggestive style, for
:it formed the test of a pretty long cogita-
tion.

" TkereV said the lawyer, in his solilo-
quy, " It has come at last. I had a pre-
sentiment of it — fate can't be shunned. —
I was destined for this plaguy suit, and
struggle hard as I may, it will stick to
me. Oh, it is horribly vexatious ! Ev-
erything just made up so nicely with Sid-
ney ! and if I get into the affair again, it
will be a thousand times worse than before.
I have told them I was perfectly disenga-
ged, and would never be dragged a second
time into such a predicament. What will

VOL. V. NO. VI. NEW SERIES.

they say if, as a sequel to these fine assur-
ances, Richard Somers should re-appear iu
the ugly shape of Counsel for the North-
erners .'' Old man Everlyn, too, is so ex-
cessively touchy ; you never can make
him cool enough to understand the neces-
sities of a lawyer's position, and if I at-
tempt to explain the matter, the only ef-
fect will be to work him into a resolution
to take no unfortunate wretch of a Barrister
for his son-in-law. Did ever man see the
like of it ? Here I have been this month and
more, trying my best to keep out of the
way of the Newloves. Manytimes I have
even refrained from visiting Sidney, lest I
should happen to meet some Yankee face
on the road. I have had a desperate tug
with conscience — for it is certainly a down-
right shame not to acknowledge their for-
bearance and consideration — still I've shut
my eyes to civUity, propriety, even to
common decency, and now I see all there-
suits of my efforts swept away like a va-
por !"

A man in a home-spun coat, at this mo-
ment, entered the office, and informed the
lawyer of some mighty grievances for which
he sought a remedy.

" Your boys have been dogged, you
say; " replied Somers, "who had it done .?"

" That Yankee neighbor of mine, in
course. He was friendly and sociable at
first, and I joined fences with him ; but if
you take notice, Mr. Somers, it alwaya
costs more than it comes to, to have any
fellowship with a Northerner."

The man, having had his say, withdrew.
39

604

Everstone.

[Jone,

" He's right ;" muttered Soniers. "Yes,
I am Bure 1 have found it to cost more
than it comes to ! I would give all the
fees Newlove has paid me, and a hundred
more like them, never to have seen his face,
nor his daughter's either. Yet she's a right
spirited little girl, after all, to be buying
out Scrowder at such a gloomy time. I
declare I admire her for it ! She deserves
something better than the rtiin which is
hanging over her ; I must turn to once
more, and save her from it if possible. But
Sidney 1 Ah, me ; I can't help it !" And
the lawyer — on my conscience, reader, I
am stating no more than the simple truth
— heaved a genuine sigh.

Somers sat down and prepared the deed
according to request. He read it over,
supplied the stops, and then folding up the
paper with the utmost precision, laid it
away in one of the pigeon-holes of his
desk.

Bearing in mind the next morning, that
the stage coach with the mail woidd soon
pass through the village, he thought of en-
closing the deed to Mr. Newlove. " What
more can be necessary } They only ask
for the conveyance, and there it is. He
did not say that my presence was wanted.
1 am not bound to look beyond the letter of
my instructions. 'Quihccretin litera Tur-
ret in cortice ' — so be it, I am perfectly
content to remain on the outside."

Notwithstanding this satisfactory reason-
ing, the deed was not then sent The
morning following the process was repeat-
ed, but with no additional result, except
that an envelope was put on. Still anoth-
er day came, and he had gathered sufficient
resolution to write the address. In that
condition the document remained a whole
week, at the end of which period Som-
ers deposited it in the breast pocket of his
coat, and locking his office door, sprang up-
on the back of his good horse Mansfield.
He ambled along as other travellers do,
who 2:0 with a divided mind, till he recog-
nizecToff to his right, the hill-top above
Everstone, which had been the scene of
his re-admission into the favor of Sidney.
The road which he had now to pursue led
him away southward. As he turned, vexa-
tion grew strong upon him. Somers was
not perfect. His legal discipline had done
something towards correcting the defect of a
hasty temperament, yet nature was by no

means expelled. In the present instance,
he had made up his mind to go through a
certain course of conduct. An imperative
sense of duty forced him to the task, but
could not force him to regard that task as
pleasant and desirable. He went to do a
good deed in an ill mood.

Emma, from her window, saw him riding
up to the door, and her heart beat quick.
She felt relieved, as at the prospect of
strong and ready succor. Hitherto, she
had stood alone in her trial, now she might
expect kind consolation, and wise advice.
Immediately, she descended and waited in
the parlor the arrival of the visitor.

He entered, uttered a brief salutation in
a tone neither warm nor cold, but unsatis-
factory, and took his seat.

Emma was quite abashed, and the eager
words which her first emotion of joy had
prompted, died upon her tongue.

" I have brought you," said the lawyer,
drawing forth his packet, " the legal doc-
ument prepared in accordance with Mr.
Newlove's note."

She received it, and bowed in silence.

There was perfect stillness for some mo-
ments ; then he said, " I have received an-
other communication from your father — I
got it a good while ago — previous, in fact,
to my return to the county."

" Well, sir," Emma took courage to
say, " I hope you were gratified by its
contents."

" Gratified, indeed ! was it such excel-
lent good news, to hear that you had all
taken the case in your own hands, and were
about to make an upset and crash of the
whole affair } I left you in a tolerably
good plight ; how matters now stand, it is
not worth while to say. I had taken some
pains in the business, and did not expect
to have them altogether wasted. But
what boots it .? If the parties most inter-
ested are pleased with the change, I am
sure I have no right to complain. Yet 'tis
a pity I was not informed of your inclina-
tion at the first. If you were anxious to
lose the suit, I could have shown you the
way to do it Avith a somewhat better grace.
Yet, perhaps, a striking denouement was a
desideratum — if so, the end, I must con-
fess, seems likely to be obtained. Most
bold, indeed, has been the management,
and not more bold than brilliant. To whom
am I to give the credit of it — Mallefax or

1850.]

Everstone.

605

your father — or possibly it belongs to the
judicious Schrowder ?"

" Blame no one, Mr. Somers,but me."

" Blame ! Excuse me ; I don't blame
anybody — I only intended to pay a compli-
ment to skill and energy. I am glad, how-
ever, that no legal personage is the author
of the happy scheme. I should dread to
have such a rival at the bar. It is bad
enough to be discarded at all, but it would
be worse degradation to know that I had
been supplanted by ]\Iallcfiix."

" Surely, sir," exclaimed Miss New-
love, " you are not in earnest in this
misconstruction of my father's letter. It
cannot be that you are unaware of the mo-
tive which prompted it."

" The words of the letter," replied
Somers, " expressed a wish to relieve me
from embarrassment."

" And is not that, sir, a sufficient justi-
fication in your eyes .?"

" Oh, the intention was well enough, if
the practical effect had only corresponded.
Just look at the state of things. I had
faith in the declaration of the letter, and
went about like a free man, telling the Ev-
erlyns they had no longer any right to
treat me as an enemy. Indeed, I have
not patience to repeat all the folly I was
betrayed into. And now, when I am to
turn about like a weathercock and give the
lie to everything I have been saying, can
you expect me to be very grateful for the
scheme which has involved me in such
awkward inconsistency .'"

Emma drew herself up proudly, and an-
swered, " I am too well aware, Mr. Som-
ers, of the weight of obligation under which
we lie to you, ever to have regarded the
returns we have sought to make, as evinc-
ing anything more than a disposition to
discharge the plainest of duties. The re-
lease from your engagement, which that
letter conveyed to you, could in no event
have been worthy to excite so high a senti-
ment as gratitude, but whatever estima-
tion it deserved to have placed upon it at
the first, it deserves now. No desne is en-
tertained by us to lead you a second time
into painful connection with either our fail-
ure or our success. A just cause can defend
itself."

The lawyer smiled at the magnanimous
speech. Another woman in Emma's place,
would probably have been indignant to find

herself turned into ridicule, but she was
only humbled.

" There's many a client," said Somers,
" who thinks himself very well able to
dispense with his advocate, yet a recent in-
stance shows that it is not always safe to
act upon this natural feeling of independ-
ence. But seriously. Miss Newlove, do
you comprehend all the difficulties mider
which you are now laboring V

She made no answer.

He continued, '' Do you know that an
advantage has been given to Astiviile,
which he is disposed to use to the utmost ?
Do you perceive that a public sentiment
has been awakened, which it wUl be al-
most impossible to repress, and which, if it
remain uncoimteracted, must result in the
ruin of your cause, if it do not even threat-
en your personal safety .^"

" I know it all."

" Then do you know also what an op-
probrium rests upon your name } Have
you learned that nearly ninety-nine persons
out of a hundred believe you guHty of an
infamous crime .?"

Emma's throat and cheek and brow
were instantly suifused with crimson. Her
eye shot forth a glance steady and bold,
but then sank timidly to the floor, while
she answered —

" Perhaps you too, sir, are numbered
among the ninety and nine who judge me
so hardly."

Without making a direct reply, Somers
said — " I have seen what purports to be an
original survey of old Harrison. It can-
not be denied that it is a fancy piece, or a
studied forgery ; in other words, it is not
genuine. If I had been consulted, it
should never have gone into Court ; and
I must add, that it was a very hasty and
ill-advised measure, to proceed without my
advice."

" I am aware of that, sir, and do not
wish you to be bound to the consequences
of my folly. But tell me, j\Tr. Somers —
for of you I have a right at least to demand
an answer in this matter — does your opin-
ion agree with that of those who think me
chargeable, not merely with folly, but with
guilt i Am I, in your estimation, a —
forger?''''

The lawyer went on calmly, just as if
she had not interrupted him. " The sur-
vey is written in a hand which resembles

606

Everstone.

[June,

yours in some particulars, but does not re-
semble it more than it resembles many
other hands. The presumption from this
alone would be very slight. From whom
did you receive that paper, Miss New-
love .?"

" It was brought to me by a person, who
required my promise never to mention from
■whom it came."

" Indeed ! and was not this a sufficiently
suspicious circumstance tp put you on your
guard against a snare .?"

" I had, in truth, some doubt, sir ; but
there did not seem any very great risk,
and I knew how much pain you must suf-
fer, so long as you continued bound to our
fortunes."

" Pain — suffering !" interrupted Somers,
suddenly ; "who told you I was in such ter-
rible distress .?"

" We knew nothing more, sir," replied
Emma, in a timid tone, " than your own
•words and manner declared."

"Ah, that's it — is it } So I appeared
all the while very cold and remiss and in-
attentive to your interests ; and on your
part, consequently, you were anxious to get
rid of me."

" Mr. Somers, you know that we
were not. So far from entertaining any
sentiment of this kind, it cost us a most
severe effort to adopt the measures we did.
How far from our minds was the thought
that that letter could possibly prove a cause
of offence. Believe me, Mr. Somers, it
would have been a great relief to us to
have felt absolved from the duty of writing
it."

" Well, not to talk any more of that
just now,'' said Somers, " allow me to ask
whether the person who gave you that pa-
per— the survey 1 mean — told you it was
genuine .?"
" He said—"

" He ! — it was a man then } A South-
erner .'"'

"Yes, I believe so ; but perhaps I
GUf^ht not to relate these particulars."
" What was it he said, then .?"
" I cannot repeat the words ; but he
spoke in a way to induce me to infer that
the paper was genuine. He added, how-
ever, that it would be well to take advice
on this point, and to act accordingly."
"And did you consult any body ?"
" Yes, six-— Mr. Mallefax " - ,

" I thought as much. But tell me, did
this mysterious visitor allude to Mallefas
by name, and recommend your application
to him in preference to any oae else .?"

" No ; I do not think he did."

"As to Mallefax himself, then— when
the paper was communicated to him, did
he scrutinize it suspiciously, or did it meet
his ready approval .?"

" He at once appeared convinced of its
genuineness."

" Now, let me know who the man was."

"That question, Mr. Somers, I may not
answer."

"The name may not be mentioned to
others, if you think proper," replied the
lawyer, " but to me it Tnust be told. A
pretty thing it would be if any secrets were
to be kept from an advocate. The whole
affiiir depends on my having correct and
definite information."

" Do you suspect, Mr, {Somers, that I
do not tell you because I am myself the
author of the paper .? Does my innocence
stand in such need of confirmation .'"'

Emma's words were uttered low and
plaintively. In quite a different key, Somers
rejoined — " Pshaw ! pshaw ! — My opinion
is nothing to the purpose. The thing
really to be considered is, how to make
you stand fair in the sight of others. So
give me an answer to my question."

" I cannot, sir."

" I am willing to promise, on my honor,
to reveal what you tell me to no one else."

"I have every confidence in your honor,
Mr. Somers ; and if it were my secret I
would trust it to you without hesitation.
But I have engaged to keep the name lock-
ed within my own breast."

" Yet the fellow who gave it to you has
proved false."

" It is possible he has," said Emma.

" In that case, then, you surely are not
bound to keep faith to him. Between the
requirements of self-defence on the one
hand, and a promise made to a scoundrel
on the other, there is little room for hesi-
tation."

" Still, sir, I do not feel at liberty to tell
you who gave me the survey."

"Liberty!" repeated Somers ; "there's
no liberty about it. — It is a case of neces
sity. Don't you see that no jury in the
world wiU decide for a cause, in support of
which they believe forgery to have beea

1850.]

Everstone,

607

resorted to ? And is a blasted reputation
not to l>e considered ? Is your father's
peace of mind nothing ? Good heavens !
Miss Newlove, think of it. The loss of
your property here is the smallest part of
the matter. To be a subject all your life
for gossiping scandal-mongers — to meet
open scorn wherever you go, for rely upon
it, the stigma will be recognized though
you should seek obscurity in the uttermost
State of the Union ! — to be taunted by the
vile — to be loathed and shunned by the
righteous — to have the ordinary incidents
of youi- life ingeniously distorted and black-
ened, and printed in scurvy j^amphlets to
be hawked over the country, under the
title of 'Adventures of the Great Female
Forger !' — IN'Iiss Newlove, death itself were
not worse than such a life as this !"

" No, no," answered Emma ; " it were
far better to die than to endure the fate
you describe."

" Give me, then, the information that
will enable me to save you from it."

Emma shook her head sorrowfully.

*' Whatever 3'ou may think of me, sir,
in consequence of my silence, I cannot tell
you that."

Somers, disappointed, turned his head
away abruptly. Emma, mistaking the
meaning of the gesture, was unable to re-
strain her tears, and said : *' So you will
forsake me, then .'"

"Never!" exclaimed the lawyer, with
fervor.

As much surprised as gratified by his
tone, she looked up quickly. "And not-
withstanding appearances, you believe me
innocent :''''

"Assuredly — how is it possible for me to
doubt it .?"

" Still you talk of the universal contu-
mely which I am to expect henceforward.
I thought from that — "

" What did you think V said Somers,
relaxing his countenance from the stern
expi'ession which had so much affected his
client.

" I thought," replied Emma, hesitating,
*' that is, it seemed natural to suppose that
you could not speak with such severit}^,
unless you at least suspected me of having
done something very wicked."

Somers laughed gaily at the answer.

*' You must learn," he said, " that a
lawyer does not carry his mind on the end

of his tongue. Why, I would talk to you
in that strain from morning till night — I
would proceed with increasing vehemence
to scold and upbraid and taunt — I would
scowl more savagely than ever wolf did up-
on lamb, if I thought there was any possi-
bility of frightening you into a communi-
cative disposition. But as I have failed,
distress yourself no longer with reflecting
upon the world's opinion ; we will yet
make it recant its judgment. Yes, though
you refuse to give me the means of convict-
ing the real forger, I shall still manage to
show how absurd and unjust it is to suspect
yoic of the crime. There now ; you par-
don me for the agitation I have caused —
do you not V

" Yet," returned Emma, with grave and
earnest simplicity, "if it be true that a
lawyer does not speak from the heart, how
can I know that you are not practising
upon my credulity now .'' However confi-
dently you speak, perhaps doubts, after all,
possess your mind."

" I will answer you frankly," said Som-
ers. "Your conjecture is not altogether
wrong. It is true that I was not perfectly
sincere in the cheering manner which I
used just now. But I think I have done
you injustice. If you wish it, I will not in
future disfjuise a sinfjle doubt which I en-
tertain.

Somers paused and scrutinized her stea-
dUy. He saw how her whole slight frame
trembled, and how deadly pale her cheek
had become ; but he read undaunted firm-
ness in her tightly compressed lips and in
her bright, dilated eye.

The words which came from her were
such as he expected: — " I can bear any-
thing but deceit."

" Hear then," said Somers, " all my
doubts. I am not certain that you may
not lose this land to which you have an
equitable and a legal title ; — I am not cer-
tain that you will ever escape from the re-
proach which powerful enemies are endea-
voring to fasten on you ; — I am not cer-
tain that an excited populace will refrain
from visiting you with open and violent in-
dignity."

Somers stopped. Emma replied in a
low voice, " Have you finished.'' I am
prepared to endure all this."

" No. I have something more to say,
I have told you my apprehensions, I must

608

Everstone.

[June,

tell you now of what I am certain. I am
certain that you have the support of pure,
unspotted, conscious innocence. I am cer-
tain, also, that you have one friend who is
equally bound by admiration of your char-
acter, and by gratitude, to devote to your
service all the poor faculties that God has
given him."

Emma was almost overcome. The
strong emotion which at that moment
swelled her bosom, revealed to her what
she had never before suspected, that
Somers was something more to her than
an intelligent friend and upright advocate.
Fortunately, she was alone in the discov-
ery. Somers was no coxcomb, and did
not imagine that every fair client whose in-
terest he had succeeded in awakening was
ready to throw her heart into his hand.

" I will tell you what I have done with-
in the last few days," said Somers. "There
was a scheme a-foot to have you indicted
by the Grand-jury ; I went to work and
represented the glaring injustice of proceed-
ing upon remote surmises, in such terms
that the half-formed purpose was aban-
doned."

"But ought I to fear a trial .^" replied
Emma, " I am not guilty."

" I know it, and so does Astiville proba-
bly know it, and he could have no expec-
tation that the prosecution would be ter-
minated by conviction ; but a true bill
found by a Grand-jury would confirm ex-
isting prejudices, and give opportunity for
eifecting his other plans. Then you your-
self would be annoyed by the publicity and
the numberless otlier vexatious circumstan-
ces of a trial, whilst the acquittal when at
length it came, would not remove the re-
proachful suspicions which make your pre-
sent state so painful."

"J understand the case now," returned
Emma, " and am able to appreciate the
service you have rendered me. May I
ask your opinion respecting the measure
which this deed you have brought is de-
signed to eiFect .? Do I well to buy out
Schrowder .^"

"Well;" answered Somers, "very

well. I am not sure that I should have
ventured to suggest the move, as the con-
sequence of it is to put in jeopardy nine
thousand dollars more ; but since you have
determined on it of your own accord, I am
at liberty to say that you have done just
what I should feel like doing, if I were iu
your place ; and I do not believe that spir-
ited conduct is always injudicious conduct.
In this case, we will get rid of Schrowder,
the most tormenting encumbrance that ever
suit was oppressed with. As soon as the
matter is concluded, I will give the fellow
a hint that his safety will be best consulted
by an immediate departm'e from the coun-
ty, and as his cowardice at least equals
his selfishness, there is little danger of his
remaining. After that, if we can only se-
cure a few months of quiet, the present
commotion will die a natural death, and
we may hope for a fair trial and a prosper-
ous issue."

"Ah, but," said Emma, " I must not
allow you to sacrifice yourself a second time
in our cause. Your friends have become
reconciled, and Heaven forbid, that we
should be insti'umental in drawing upon
you their renewed displeasure."

Somers replied immediately, " Though
my friends should forget reason, I must not
forget duty. No — let any consequences
come that may — I will give up friendship
and the Everlyns — yes, I will give up
every one of them, sooner than leave you
a prey to the shameful conspiracy which
has been formed against you !"

" Yet indeed, sir," urged Emma, " I do
not wish to take advantage of your gen-
erosity."

"It is useless to talk of it," exclaimed
Somers, " I am not at all generous ; so
spare any self-reproach. How could I ever
enjoy a moment's peace hereafter, if I car-
ried with me the consciousness of having
broken the most sacred duty of my profes-
sion } A lawyer is not exactly a knight-
errant, yet is he a recreant knave if he
refuse to strengthen the weak and succor
the oppressed.

..^

*;>.

■./\

1850.]

Everstone.

609

CHAPTER XIII.

SoMERs had good reason to apprehend
unpleasant consequences from his re-en-
gagement with the New Yorkers. Mr.
Everlyn, frank, open, direct, never had pa-
tience to view an object from more than
one side. His notion of friendship agreed
with the character of his mind. By the
term he understood a complete identity —
of taste as far as possible — of sentiment^
with no reservation at all. A common
friend to two enemies seemed to him as
absurd a fisjment of imagination as a
quantity equal respectively to two quanti-
ties unequal to each other. Yet was he
not dogmatic and self-important. He did
not require the whole sacrifice to be made
by his friend ; but, in order to secure the
proper sympathetic conformity, would often
relinquish his own strong prepossessions.
The circumstances of the case were to de-
cide from which party the compliance
should proceed. In the present instance,
be was under a necessity to oppose the
Newloves. It might be that Somers felt
himself under a similar necessity to sup-
port them. Everlyn would not quarrel
with him for the choice, but only came to
the conclusion that the intimacy was sun-
dered. What had given rise to the incom-
patibility— whether irresistible fate or fic-
kleness on Somers' part — made no diiFer-
ence whatever.

Sidney thought still more hardly of her
lover. That he should go and league
himself with the adversary at a time when,
as he himself had owned, he was fettered
by no obligation, was conduct so strange
that she was compelled to attribute it to
some secret and very powerful motive.
What that motive was, she was not long in
conjecturing. Had not Somers himself
betrayed the warm and peculiar interest he
felt in Emma Newlove ? Yet if he were
indeed thus deeply attached to that young
lady, why did he seem to struggle against
the circumstances which at once justified
and favored his new suit } Why did he
Btill profess undiminished affection for her-

self.' Suspicion and jealousy, however,
are seldom at fault. Mr. Everlyn now
enjoyed a moderate fortune ; should Ever-
stone be lost, he would be reduced to pov-
erty, and his daughter would become por-
tionless. Miss Newlove Avas rich ; Lawyers
are all mercenary ; it was difiicult for Sid-
ney to contemplate the inference which
appeared a legitimate deduction from these
facts. The hypothesis admitted of a vari-
ation. Perhaps Somers had a sincere
liking for the Yankee maiden, apart from
the consideration of golden charms : per-
haps, also, there remained in his breast
something of the love she herself had ex-
cited : it might be that, hesitating between
these opposite attractions, he had thought
to decide the doubt by yielding up his
whole heart to her to whom the fortune of
Law should give the broad estate. This
conjecture, which seemed the most proba-
ble, was likewise the most offensive. To
think that Somers throughout the lawsuit
should be complacently occupied in keep-
ing warm the two hearts, each of which he
desired to have in a suitable state for his
acceptance when the day of final choice
should come — how abominable and shock-
ing ! Like the epicure who is fattening
two fowls of the anserine genus in separate
coops for a birthday entertainment ; h©
does not expect to eat them both, oh no —
nature is unequal to the consumption of
two such luscious tid-bits at a single meal —
but he is yet uncertain which will prove
possessor of the largest liver, and his fastid-
ious palate craves the best. And was Sid-
ney Everlyn to be one of those geese ^ was
her honest affection thus to be practiced
upon } What was Richard Somers, that he
should select her as a fit object for his selfish
management ^ The offspring of obscurity
and poverty, who ought to be grateful for
the slightest notice received from those who
could trace back their ancestry to the days
of King Arthur.

Sidney's beauty, like all other human
beauty, owed its radiance to pride — not

610

Everstom.

[June,

self-important vanity — not conceit — that
tormenting appetite which is continually
craving and pining and enduring the ago-
nies of hunger, unless cloyed with the man-
na of adulation. But within her soul
there dwelt that high-spirited conscious-
ness, which, though the source of all en-
joyment to the possessor, delights not in
outward manifestation, and courts neither
notice nor acknowledgment. Her's was
that pride which is convinced of its own
merit and superiority, yet is satisfied with
this internal conviction and contentedly sees
the world around pursue the course that
pleases it ; pride which shrinks from con-
tact and may be mistaken for timid weak-
ness, until a wound is felt, but then arms
itself with a sudden instinctive vigor to re-
pel and punish the aggression. Had she
been a King's daughter, and Somersa page
of low degree, she could have given him a
love unexacting, loyal, tender, submissive.
Without repining, she would have seen the
crown pass from her head to his, if it were
lier hand that made the exchange. But
the scene of her life was not laid in the ro-
mantic land of dreams ; — there were no
sceptres nor thrones to be the gift of gen-
erous affection. Rugged realities surround-
ed her, which even love's enchantment
could not render smooth and verdant.
StUl the fond wish remained that, although
she had little more than her heart to bestow,
the recipient should take it with the temper
of one who is placed under an enduring
obligation. She would contribute love for
the adornment of the Marriage Ring ; the
suitor must furnish not only love but gra-
titude.

That Somers was not wealthy, caused
her therefore no regret. His obscure and
humble birth, which we might suppose
would appear an insuperable objection to
one so proud of the glories of her own
genealogical tree, gave him, in her eyes, a
charm and an attraction. That he affected
none of the arts of the parvenu, but frankly
owned his barren escutcheon, was a merit,
since it came not from any stolid and vul-
gar independence, but was accompanied
by an ingenuous appreciation of the advan-
tage which his mistress enjoyed in her
ancestral dignity. She never suspected —
and the error was a pleasant one — that this
poor lawyer — this son of parents whom
nobody knew, — who appeared so humble,

and who really was so devoted, had a spirit
to the full as haught}'' as her own, and a
will, of whose iron and masculine rigidity
her mind could form no conception. She
saw him now actuated by other purposes
than such as love for her would suffgest,
and she saw it with a surprise that equalled
her disj)leasure. Had she been prepared
for this course, by knowledge of his charac-
ter, she might have learned to pardon it ;
but it is not surprising, that, attributing
his conduct, as she thought herself compel-
led to do, to selfish and discreditable
motives, she should have regarded it aa
presumptuous perfidy deserves to be re-
garded.

Somers, for his part, was a lover, and in
that character, was willing, as a matter of
course, to be attentive and obsequious. It
had never entered his thoughts, however,
that he was a proper object for condescen-
sion. Perhaps it was well that the course
of his love did not run smooth. Sidney
must have found, after marriage, if not
before, that she was far less unlike the
diademed princess, than he was to the pli-
ant and graceful page. The disappoint-
ment which awaited her came best at a
time when, although it might crush the
dearly cherished fabric of a girlish fancy,
it did not blast a whole life-time's prospect
of happiness.

Though his mind was filled with uneasy
forebodings, Somers thus failed to recog-
nize all the danger that threatened, and
consequently could not take the proper
measures to avert them. He knew enough,
indeed, of female character and of human
character, that Sidney would not tolerate a
rival in his affections, and ordinary pru-
dence enjoined upon him to say nothing
which could kindle jealousy. Hence he
studiously avoided speaking of Emma or
of her concerns. His caution was detected
by Sidney, and unluckily, instead of allay-
ing her suspicions, only seemed ample
confirmation of them. At each visit that
he made, he received a greeting colder than
at the last. He was earnest and tender,
and rhetorically persuasive — but all to no
purpose. She listened apathetically, re-
plied in monosyllables, and only varied her
formal reserve by darting an occasional
gleam from that marvellous bright eye of
hers. What meaning shone in that glance,
there was no time to examine — you might

1850.]

Everstone.

611

as well attempt to assort the colors which
glow iu the lightning, when it breaks from
the thunder-cloud. All that the dazzled
vision of poor Somers could observe, was,
that it was not such a glance as ought to
give rapture to the lover. After a long
endurance of this treatment, his own tem-
per began to be chafed. He felt strongly
tempted to make the wide, blindfold leap
from patience into recklessness. Why
should he submit to be the slave of a
woman's whim : Did it not rather become
him to give open defiance to her absurd
jealousy .'' What was it but base, unmanly
truckling, to shun the utterance of truth .''
■ — and what more true than that Miss
Newlove was eminently deserving of her
advocate's most zealous service .'

As the lawyer was riding one day across
the wilderness of the debatable land, he
saw, standing a little way from him, a
surveyor's compass. Two bare-headed
negro lads reclined at lazy length upon the
ground, while stretched between them was
a Gunter's chain. A lithe young fellow,
in a grey frock coat, and shining cap,
was busUy adjusting the instrument, and
stooped now and then to peer through the
sights. A surveyor ! — but none of those
whom Somers had known to be at the dis-
posal of the good land-owners of Redland.
A second look was taken : — yes, there now
could be no doubt — it was Howard Asti-
vilie. But the young gentleman has an
assistant with him, and — who would believe
it } — the assistant wears a honnet ! The
figure turns, and at thrice that distance of
twenty yards it would be easy to recognize
the lovely features of Sidney Everlyn.

Sidney blushed, and so did Howard.

" Ah, do not let me interrupt you," said
Somers. " Broad highways are to open be-
hind you, I presume — arteries, to carry
the blood of civilization into these woody
solitudes ; or perhaps you resort to the
compass to enable you to follow some
vagrant swarm of bees } Do I then hail a
new Arista3us, Mr. Astiville, and can this
fair vision at your side be one of the forms
of the bee-god, Proteus } Or is my first
guess nearer the truth t — Are you the Gen.
Wade of our century, and has the Genius
of the land appeared under the similitude
of Miss Everlyn to guide and encom-age
your labors .?"

" No, sir," replied Howard, " lam not a

road maker, nor the engineer of roads. It
is true, indeed, that I am hunting for the
lost — but not for lost bees. My employ-
ment is less classical, and less poetic. I
am hunting for landmarks — for proofs to
establish a just cause, Mr. Somers. The
Hardwater, that stream which seems to
have possessed the faculty of rendering
itself invisible to some eyes, can no longer
avoid detection. I think we have found it,
but where I ought not, perhaps, to mention,
since the disclosure may pain you, sir."

" Do not so misjudge me," rejoined
the lawyer, " as to believe that the disco-
very of truth can ever cause me pain ; or
if 1 were capable of wishing anything
concealed, you would do no more than right
to drag it forth into open day, and convince
me of the disappointment. I do not desire
to lead you into any unwilling announce-
ment, yet if you have found the true boun-
dary of Roland Compton's grant, I am sure
I ought to rejoice, for it will relieve me
from a very great embarrassment."

Howard, glancing towards Sidney, said,
" We have no secrets, Mr. Somers. We
are content to declare to you now, every-
thing that we expect to declare before your
face in Court. Our investigations have not
been fruitless. So abundant, in truth, are
the results obtained, that it would be
niggardly to deny you a participation in the
enjoyment of them. The Loiver Branch
is the Hardwater."

"Indeed.?"

" Yes : and if you feel disposed I will
take pleasure in pointing out this new evi-
dence which we have obtained."

Somers dismounted, and began to exam-
ine the papers offered to his perusal.

" This," said Howard, " is the copy of
an old survey — it is not presented as the
on'^/waZ, please to take notice, ]\Ir. Somers
— I leave yoiu- clients in sole possession of
the sweets of forgery. Though not a very
practised surveyor, as you may imagine, I
have been running out this west line, and
find that it reaches no farther than to the
Lower Branch. The survey was made at
the instance of old Jeremy Compton, to
mark off a portion for his daughter, at her
marriage. She died, without leaving
children, and the land reverted to the
father. Perhaps you were unaware of the
existence of the survey, or if not, perceived
that it would be no advantage to Miss

612

Everstone.

[June,

Newlove to bring it forward. How was it,
Mr. Somers ?"

" I was well enougli aware of the docu-
ment," replied the lawyer, " and had read
it in the clerk's office."

Sidney, on hearing this avowal, sent
forth one of those keen looks with which
she had lately been so much in the habit of
favoring him.

Somers did not wince. Turning with a
pleasant smile to Howard, he said: "If
you will take the trouble to reckon up the
latitudes and departures, you will observe
that there is an error somewhere of no less
than nine hundred poles. The west line is
given here as 1 05 poles— supply a cipher at
the end and the whole becomes consistent.
But 1050 poles will bring you to the Upper
Branch. One hundred and five poles, by
the way, did not even bring you quite to
the Lower Branch — did it ?"

Howard owned that it did not.

" I thought as much," continued the
other, " There is no supposition which can
reconcile the survey with its own conditions
but that of the omission of the cipher in
the statement of the west line."

Howard looked blank : Then making a
strong effort to force a little cheerfulness
into his countenance, he inquired the rea-
son why Somers, if the case stood as he
represented, had not used the survey as
evidence in behalf of his clients.

" I will tell you: I knew that twelve
plain men are very apt to be bewildered by
paper calculations of this sort. Prudence
compels a lawyer many times to refrain from
urging the arguments which are most con-
vincing to his own judgment."

" Then it seems,'' said Sidney, quickly,
" that your boasted Law is the most uncer-
tain of all ordeals."

" It is a shrewd conjecture," answered
Somers, "but I believe there is nothing
certain in this world— except a lady's favor.
I was going on to say, however, Mr. Asti-
ville, that I had another reason for not
availing myself of the evidence afforded by
this paper — I thought it probable that the
opposite parties might save me the trouble
of bringing it into Court."

" I understand you," interrupted How-
ard, " the plan was to seize the moment of
our fancied security, to give us a blow
which might prove fatal. You hoped to
serve us in this matter as you had served

us about the tree and broken stone, at the
Sulphur Spring. But, I thank Heaven,
you are to be disappointed."

"And to what do I owe the said disap-
pointment, Mr. Astiville^.^ "

" You are fishing for gratitude in this
query," answered Howard, " but I must
say, frankly, that you will get little from
me If there be such a mistake as you
allege in this survey, be assured we should
have discovered it without the aid of your
candor and acumen. Or even if we had
gone on in our error, I profess that it is
better to be deceived one's-self, than to
practice deceit upon others. I prefer our
survey here, with all its imperfections, to
that well-concocted forgery which you con-
sider yourself bound to justify and abet."

" Abet?'''' repeated Somers, frowning.

" I do not mean," said Howard, correct-
ing himself, '' to charge you with any
participation in the crime itself. You were
far too sagacious, and doubtless, I ought to
add, too honest, to dabble in such roguery.
But when you defend the perpetrator, and
assist her to prosecute the same scheme,
though by means less disreputable and
dangerous, I cannot look upon you — "

" Look upon me how, Mr. AstivUle .''
Do not hesitate to speak your mind."

" I cannot regard you," continued
Howard, " as one from whom I would be
willing to receive any — the most trifling
obligation. Nor can I forget, Mr. Somers,
that the same person who is so tender of
the reputation of this unprincipled young
woman, scrupled not to foul his lips with
the blackest insults to a man who stands
higher than himself in public estimation
— a man of unstained honor — a gentleman
— one who never yet, I am proud to
say — has done anything to entitle him to
a lodging in the penitentiary ! You are
able to admire Emma Newlove, while you
hate and vilify my father."

"My conscience," replied Somers,
calmly, "justifies both the liking and the
disliking."

" Oh, how excellent a thing it is," ex-
claimed Howard, " to have a pretty word
lilce Conscience always ready at one's call."

Somers retorted promptly, " It is a bet-
ter thing to have some knowledge of the
subject which one is talking about, whether
it be a Survey or the conduct of a feUow
\ creature." ...... .-.,...,..

1850.]

Everstone.

613

Howard, with a countenance that was
indebted for its glow in part to confusion,
and in part to anger, answered with vehe-
mence, " You know a great deal, Mr.
Somers — a great deal — I do not dispute it ;
you are far better informed than we can be
of the length of INIiss Newlove's rent-roll,
and consequently of her claims upon your
sympathy, but the rest of us, sir, though
not admitted to the same precious intimacy,
are not cut off from the power of observa-
tion. Indeed, we have, in some respects,
an advantage . Partiality dims your supe-
rior vision — or perhaps the very proximity
to the young lady's resplendent charms,
dazzles you — allow me to perform the
friendly part of putting at your service
the results of our disembarrassed scrutiny.
We know what a spirit has its home behind
those meek and saintly features, which have
had so fascinating an influence. I beheld
them, sir, when the veil of hypocrisy was
torn from them — I saw how detected guilt
shrank aghast. When I remember that
scene in Court, I could pity her ; and
almost pardon, if that confusion and
speechless terror of the conscience-stricken
woman had borne fruit in penitence. Ah !
Mr. Somers, I trust it is not encouragement
ministered by you, that nerves her to defy
public opinion, and the salutary discipline
of remorse i"

Somers made an impatient movement of
his hand, but refrained from speaking.

" You have charged me, sir," continued
Howard, "to speak only of what I know.
It is not your wish, I presume, that I should
become quite a Carthusian — you are will-
ing to have me open my lips sometimes.
]\ow there are very few subjects indeed
which I claim to understand exactly and
entirely, but if there is anything — besides
my own existence and the truth of
Scripture — of which I am reasonably sure,
it is Emma Newlove's guQt. I know that
she is reckless, destitute of all feminine
delicacy, capable of being restrained by no
considerations of honesty, utterly vile,
worse than the common thief, worthy to be
branded as a convict and to be scouted
from society — "

"Stop!" exclaimed Somers, "for
shame's sake, stop ! — Since you are no
longer amenable to the ferule of the school-
master, young man, consider that there are
proprieties to be observed in this world of

grown people, which you claim to enter.
Remember, sir, that you are not on a play-
ground amongst a throng of rowdy urchins.
Talk the language of gentlemen."

At this rebuke, a convulsive quiver pas-
sed through Howard's frame. With his
grating teeth, and clenched hands, and
livid face, he seemed ready to bound like
an enraged beast, upon the lawyer, who
recovered his own composure in viewing
the spectacle of such almost frantic fury.

" Somers !" said the youth, " you shall
answer for this ! I will meet you where
and in what way you please — "

" Come," he added, stamping upon the
ground, " the interval must be short be-
tween such an insult and expiation ! Come !
let us go instantly, unless you would have
me knock you down like a dog ! Come ! or
I'll brand you as equally villain and cow-
ard!"

Sidney, terrified by the sudden explo-
sion, interposed. " This must not be," she
said, " Richard, go not — Howard, be calm."

" Calm !" echoed Howard, " Yes, sure-
ly— calm I am and will be ; l3ut would you
have me put up with degradation, Sidney .''
Shall I suffer open, flagrant dishonor to
pass unpunished : — No !"

Turning then to Somers, and speaking
in a low, deliberate voice, which told of
passion only the more intense that it was
partially smothered, he said " There can
be no more triflino- — let us begone — what

else is to be transacted can better be
arranged in another place than in the pre-
sence of a lady."

" I will not take you at your word,"
replied Somers, " a little reflection will
suggest other thoughts. For my own part,
no false pride shall prevent me from declar-
ing that I meant not to wound your feel-
ings tluis severely."

"Pshaw!" interrupted Howard, "It
shall be seen that I am no child, to be
coaxed into good humor by a few sweet-
ened phrases. I stUl hold you to an ac-
count."

Somers walked up to the compass, which
was standing near by, and shook it with
his hand till the index vibrated over a
space of ninety degrees on either side. " I
wall make no reply," he said, " till that
load-stone has settled in its place ; and un-
less your demand is then repeated, I will
consider it as havmg never been made."

614

Everstone.

[June,

Somers, Sidney, Howard, stood as still
as a marble group. The curly-headed
chain -carriers leaned, the one on his right
elbow, the other on his left, while their
countenances expressed the most eager
expectation.

As Howard's down-cast eye watched
how the needle moved slower and slower,
many a vision glided before his mental
sight. He saw a fellow man weltering in
blood — he saw the fatal weapon of the
duellist dashed in horror upon the ground
— then he saw his own form staggering —
prostrate — he saw those features, which the
glass that hung in his bedroom had taught
him to recognize, distorted and ghastly —
he could almost behold the half-uttered
prayer which the heavens would not re-
ceive, but which was beaten back to crush
the panting and dying heart from which it
had issued. Afterwards, there rose up in
front of him, the gaunt, white-haired figure
of the being who dwelt in the lonely cabin.
He thought of the shattered gun, and the
burst of impotent wrath which had succeed-
ed. The admonition of that strange tutor
sounded in his ears — " The dcmon^ Tem-
per^''''— was 7ie not now unchained .? A
moment's sin — the everlasting remorse !
Was he to choose such a fate .? Oh !
what a blessing that the evil doom was
not already upon him ! The darkness,
though imminent, had not yet fallen on his
path of life. His own hand had need to
be lifted ere the beams of the cheerful sun
would be forever cut off.

The brief moment had elapsed. The
needle was still. Sober-judging reason
had resumed his seat, and Howard could
recognize how much he had escaped through
his rival's forbearance. Yet it fretted him
to reflect that he had required the aid of
Somers to enable him to rule his own spirit.
It was a bitter mortification, too, that Syd-
ney stood there to witness the triumph of the
hated lawyer. He would so far take ad-
vantage of this, the second and sharpest
lesson he had received in those Hardwater
woods, as to remain hereafter cool and on
his guard. He would not afford Somers
another opportunity to display the superi-
ority of self-possession over impetuous fury,
but he should prove, that although
instructed, he was not reduced to confu-
Bion or to silence.

" I think, Mr, Somers," said he, in

carefully modulated tones, " that you
have rendered yourself fairly obnoxious
to complaint. If filial piety is insuffi-
cient to justify my speaking, as the rep-
resentative of the man whom you must
confess to have been unworthily slandered,
I have at least a right to open my mouth
as the friend of Miss Everlyn and her
father. This Newlove girl is strenuously
laboring to effect the ruin of a time-honor-
ed family in which you and I are now both
of us guests. Professing the warmest at-
tachment to the Everlyn name, and declar-
ing yourself unfettered by any tics which,
might compel you to do it harm , you volun-
tarily engage in defence of the adversary, and
you choose the very moment when the
universal voice of the community denoun-
ces her as an infamous, though unconvict-
ed, criminal. And so far are you carried by
zeal for this woman, that if I here, on
the laud of Mr. Everlyn, undertake to
speak of her in the terms which she de-
serves, you interpose a flat denial, and
lecture me for my youthful imperti-
nence!"

" The lecture you speak of, Mr. Asti-
ville, was unintended ; the denial, howev-
er abrupt, was but truth."

" Truth !" resumed Howard, " and
what warrant have we for that ^ One
man's single assertion. You affirm Em-
ma Newlove's innocence — the world affirms
the contrary. Yet not even suspense of
judgment is allowed us. This stranger
girl is yotir friend, and must therefore
be acknowledged spotless. ]Mr. EverlynPs
friend, on the contrary, may be assailed
with insolent abuse in Mr. Everlyn's own
parlor ! 1 appeal to Miss Everlyn ; ought
not the man to be blamed who acts thus,
be he lavv^yer, or what not .?"

" I also," said Somers, directing hig
eyes toward Sidney, " appeal to Miss Ev-
erlyn. Would I not be unworthy of the
vital air that keeps me in existence, if I
refused to stand up in behalf of a weak,
unfriended, innocent female ^ Confident-
ly do I look to you. Miss Everlyn, for
I know that you cannot forget what claims
every member of your sex must have upon
a man's courtesy, his liberal construction,
his support, his succor. Be you my judge
— I want no better — but put on the robe
of justice. Separate yourself from all
those personal considerations that might

1850.]

Eversfone.

615

aflfect the decision. Stand aloof, icy and
impartial. Ba stern, if you choose, but be
just. Remember not that Miss Newlove's
interests seem to conflict with yours ; regard
her situation as if you were reading the
story of something that took place a cen-
tury ago. See her remote from her early
friends — in a strange land — surrounded by
those who wish her ill ! See her in the
midst of circumstances which have conspir-
ed to make her appear, though amia-
ble, odious — though unsinning, a culprit —
though disinterested, a hypocrite and knave!
See her, not a robust man^ used to hardship,
able to buffet with storms, but a frail, in-
genuous, sensitive female, reared in seclu-
sion, and fated to begin her acquaintance
with the world by meeting its frown — a hot-
house flower cast out into the snows of De-
cember !"

" Still, sir," observed Howard, " she is
wealthy, and money can always procure
advocates. Where is the necessity of your
being engaged in her cause .'' Is she in so
desperate a plight that she requires the
best man at the bar, and, therefore, lays
claim to you V

Somers answered, " I will not thank you
for your question, Mr. Astiville, as a compli-
ment, nor will I be angry at it as irony. —
Possibly, Miss Newglove may over-estim-
ate the value of my service, but lam too
well aware of my deficiencies, to fiill into
such an error, or to countenance it in oth-
ers. There are more diflieulties than you
perhaps suppose, in the way of procuring a
lawyer to act in my stead. Of these diffi-
culties, however, this is not the occasion to
speak. There is another very obvious
reason why it would be improper for me to
withdraw from Miss Newlove, and to
prove that it has great force, I need refer
only to the manner in which you your-
self received my declaration, made imme-
diately on my return to the county, in
March. Should I refuse to have anything
further to do with these Northerners, peo-
ple would at once attribute it to my convic-
tion of some bad practices on their part. —
The inference would be supported by the
fact that I was not present at the trial,
which resulted so unfavorably. If those
now to whom I exhibited the letter, which
was sent to me at Hilton, and which de-
clares the motive prompting their course,
are so ready to suspect them of wilfvd. de-

ceit, what must the multitude think to
whom I cannot communicate the same light?
Surely it does not become me to allow pre-
sumptions, so strong and so unjust, to be
raised against clients who have acted to-
wards me with the utmost candor and gen-
erosity. It might be that the Newloves
could extricate themselves from their un-
fortunate position without me, yet the prob-
abilities are that my abandonment would
insure their ruin. Do you think then,
Miss Everlyn, that I coidd be justified in
leaving those who regard me as their sole
reliance V

Sidney, thus invoked, replied with hesi-
tation, " It would seem that you ought not
— if, indeed, Miss JNewlove be so entu-ely
helpless."

" I see," said Somers hastily, "where
the stumbling-block lies. If poverty were
joined to Miss Newlove's other distresses,
all would admit how deserving of compas-
sion she is. Yet what advantage is her
property to her } It excites envy ; it gives
men a gi'ound to stifle conscience. She
has wealth ! — she has wealth ! — and w^ho
thinks it necessary to dispense either mer-
cy or justice to the wealthy } I behold
her in the midst of afflictions which those
who dwell in hovels and sleep on straw, do
not know. Shall I stand apart coldly, and
add to the burden of her sorrows, because
she does not happen to be poor 1 Is the
creed of the Sans Culottes the true one ;
is the possession of a little silver and gold
unanswerable proof of guilt .'' Must I tell
Miss Newlove to throw away whatever
riches God may have made her the stew-
ard of, as she wouJd hope to escape the
scorn and loathing of all Christian people }
Is there any consideration. Miss Everlyn,
which could tempt you to place yourself in
a situation like hers ; could all the treas-
ures of India persuade you to such a lot V

" Tempt me to forgery .''" said Sidney —
"Never!"

" I do not speak of that," rejoined
Somers, " but only of the suspicion of
such a crime. Ah, can you not help be-
lieving this young lady guilty } Yet at
least there is a possibility of the contrary ;
her innocence is a conceivable thing. The
day will come, I trust, when you will re-
cognize that it is more — that it is probable
— that it is certain. I ask you now, how-
ever, only to iviagine that she has com-

616

Everstone.

[June,

mitted no forgery. Let me venture next
to susgest a comparison. You are attacli-
ed, Miss Everlyn, to this home of yours —
this fine heirloom of your family — this an-
cient mansion of Everstone. It gives your
heart a pang to contemplate any impend-
ing danger. Nor do I wonder either at
your affection for such an objefet, or at
your dread of losing it. I can admit that
you have cause for anxiety, for grief, and
even for resentment. But consider, I en-
treat you, the state of her whom, perhaps,
you have only thought of hitherto, as a
troublesome adversaiy. What is there in
your fortune, though the worst should
come, equal in bitterness to her jpresewi! dis-
tress } Enough, however, has been said,
I hope, to justify my conduct in your eyes.
If unfortunately the effect of my words has
been different, I should only weary you by
adding to them Let me ask then, can
you forgive me ; but no, I will not yet put
on the air of a supplicant. I have taken
you for my j/«<%e — as a judge pronounce.
Mercy shall not plead for me I want
my conduct in this matter to be tried by
the inflexible rule of right. Assistance has
been lent to Miss Newlove ; the fact
charged is admitted. Could I in duty, and
in honor, have done otherwise V

" Did Miss Newlove request you to re-
engage in the suit ?" inquired Sidney, with
a gravity that would have done no discre-
dit to His Honor on the Bench.

" She did not," replied Somers, rather
reluctantly ; "but if she had, 1 could not

have been under greater "

" It is scarcely worth while to talk more
about it," said Sidney, coldly.

"As you please," rejoined Somers, an-
gry that he should be thus prejudged.

" I must bid you good morning," he
added.

" Will you not then accompany us to
the house V said Sidney.

" I thank you ; but 1 must deny myself
the pleasure, to-day. Besides, 1_ fear I
might be instrumenttil in interrupting Mr.
Astiville's important researches with his
compass."

Somers left the party and rode off south-
ward. The excitement of the past scene
■was still upon him. " What a reasonable
creature she is !" he muttered. " But the
man is a fool who pretends to argue with a
woman. I shall not give myself the trouble

again very soon. She can listen to that
hot-headed youngster, and walk about in
the woods with him as long as he chooses
to lead. Well, I care not ! I'll die a
bachelor sooner than make myself a slave !"
His horse happened to stumble over a
stone. He pulled up the animaPs head
fiercely and applying the whip dashed
through the trees in a gallop, to the mimi-
nent peril of his eyes. The rapid motion
and the continual necessity to sway his
body to and fro in avoiding the projecting
branches, made the blood run through his
veins with accelerated velocity. Nothing
equals such a ride for giving a man self-
confidence, elation, audacity. The heart
bounds with every leap of the steed ; each
jagged limb escaped, is a foe overcome.
" VVhy should her opinions cause me any
concern.^" said the cavalier half-aloud.
" I am well enough off as I am ; a wife
would be but an encumbrance and a plague
— such a wife at any rate as should bring
with her a thousand whims, and should
want to instal them every one as lords over
my conduct. I wish I had told her she
might take Howard Astiville or any body
else she could get, for I was determined to
have nothing more to do vf\\h her. I have
half a mind to go back even now, and show
that I have a little spirit left ! She would
be surprised, I reckon, to find that a grown
man does not lose his senses when he falls
in love, like a moon-struck boy ! Mans-
field ! Hold!" The horse stopped short in
his career, more in obedience to bit and
bridle than to his master's ejaculation.
Somers himself, indeed, turned and rode
slowly in the direction of the place from
which he had come, but it was not to ex-
ecute the heroic purpose shadowed forth in
his words. Alas, for romance! an unnoti-
ced twig had robbed him of his hat. There,
fifty yards back, half-obscured among last
year's leaves, the battered beaver lay.
Disconsolate as La Mancha's Knight when
he lost the brazen helmet of Mambrino,
Somers descended from the saddle to re-
sume his less glittering head-piece. The
incident, trivial as it was, sufiiced to take
from him his haughty daring. JVo longer
could he persuade himself to feel either
scorn for his mistress's person, or content-
ment with her displeasure. He would fain
have banished her from his thoughts, but
it was impossible. Love, that obstinate

1850.]

Everstone.

617

and wilful boy more than recovered all the
ground which he had lately been compelled
to abandon. The forlorn suitor beheld the
image of Sidney ; what grace in every
motion ! what charms clustering in the
curls that played around that delicately
moulded throat ! how expressive that cheek
now pale, now glowing ! what fascination
in that matchless eye ! In a word, Somers,
a man of sense, the shrewdest practitioner
at the Bar, of a mind mature and well bal-
anced, and long passed that susceptible
age when every pretty face that is seen,
sends a tremor to the heart, — Somers, who
for the dignity of his sex, we should have
hoped to find incapable of such weakness,
Somers was love-sick.

Out of the forest at last, he struck into
the road which led eastward.

"A bright day, this ; clear over head,
and dry under foot.''

Somers riding slowly and absorbed in
meditation, had not observed the horseman
in the rear till he overtook him, and utter-
ed this salutation. A glance showed that
the speaker was Ripley Dair.

" Yes, Mr. Dair, we have indeed de-
lightful weather ; but a little more rain
would be of service to the crops."

" Like enough," returned the other ;
'* but there are some people not far from
here who needn't to be very anxious about
their crops."

" Why } Are they so small and un-
promising."

" They may be good, or they may be in-
different," said Ripley Dair. " It makes
little odds which, as they won't have the
trouble of harvesting them. Look here,
Mr. Somers, let me know, are you still
going to plead for this batch of Yankees .?
1 hear some people say you are, and some
that you are not."

" Yes, sir, I am Mr. Newlove's lawyer
for want of a better."

" Then, Mr. Somers, take a fool's ad-
vice, and back out of the scrape as soon as
you can. If you stick to them you'U never
get another client in Redland,"

" Well, in that case, I must do the best
I can without any," replied the lawyer,
composedly.

"Ay, but you may have to meet with
something worse stUl," said Dair. " We
have all made up our minds ; these Yan-
kees on the Hardwater must quit in a

hurry. If they pretend to stay, they'll
come to harm, and so will all those who
stand at their backs."

" Whatever the plans that have been
formed, ]Mr. Dair, I cannot allow them to
influence my conduct."

Dair answered with a raised voice, " I
tell you, sir, there's no use in kicking ;
you'll only hurt your own heels. The will
of the people is the law, Mr. Somers, and
our will now is that the Northerners must
clear out from the county. We'll make a
beginning with these, and after that take a
turn at the Reveltown nest. I hate the
rascals, and — mind you, Dick Somers — I
should want nothing better than to have
them dare to show fight. We give them
notice out of mercy ; but, bless your soul,
I hope they won't take the hint ! If I
could only have a chance to lay hands on
some of those impudent conceited pumkin-
eaters, it would do me more good than the
best dram I ever got in my life ! They
shall turn up their noses in a different fash-
ion, the thick-tonojued hof>;s ! "

" But listen to me for a few minutes,"
said Somers, "and I can convince you
that there is much misconception pre-
vailing."

'' You needn't say a word," interrupted
Dair ; I'm no Juryman, thank Heaven,
and you can't make me beheve black's
white "

" Yet I have had a better opportunity
than you, ]\Ir. Dair, to become acquainted
with these men. They have then* pecu-
liar ways."

" Yes, confounded peculiar !" exclaimed
the other ; " they may please you^ but
they don't me. I had rather chew garlic
for tobacco, than be sickened with the sight
of them. The short and the long of it is,
Mr. Somers, that you are getting yourself
into a tight place. I don't care the snap
of my finger if a Yankee or two gets killed;
but I'd be sorry that any body of Southern
blood should be hurt from interfering in
the quarrel."

" Who is it that is interfering in a quar-
rel not his own .'^" inquired Somers. " You
ought to be ashamed, j\Ir. Dair, to let John
AstivUle make a tool of you."

" You are a long way off the mark, in
that shot," replied Ripley Dair proud y
" I was not born to be made use of by
any man ; It's my fight, and I'll stand

618

Everstone.

[June,

foremost in it, though John Astiville may
follow suit, if he chooses ; there's elbow
room for all, and amongst the whole of us
I am inclined to think the Yankees will
have a slim chance. It is none of my bus-
iness who gets the land ; Astiville and old
Nick may toss up for it, and I shan't cry
whichever has the luck — one is about as
good as the other ; I can bear any neigh-
bor but a Northernman. But say the
word, Somers, are you going to leave New-
love, or not ?"

" I shall not leave him, sir."
^: "Well," replied Dair, gruffly, "I've
given fair warning ; you are now the best
judge of what agrees with your health."

Somers made no reply, and rode on at
the same rate as before. Dair hung back,
but in a few minutes whipped up his horse
and was again at the lawyer's side.

"Are you in earnest, Mr. Somers .^"

" Certainly I am."

" You stick faithfully to the Yankees,
then .?"

" Yes."

"And mean to give them the benefit of
your best counsel .''"

" Of course ; that is the chief part of my
professional duty."

" Then I have one more question to
ask."

He hesitated, and Somers looking him
steadily in the face, said —

•" I am ready to answer, sir ; what is it ."'

" Oh, nothing more than just this: Un-
der present circumstances, what are you
going to advise these folks to do.'"'

" That is a very general interrogatory,
Mr. Dair."

" I don't mean it so at all. The partic-
ular thing I'm asking is just this: Are you
going to tell them to stay where they are ^
I am not speaking, mind you, of their con-
tinuing to hold a claim to the land ; but
simply as to their purpose of living on it."

" One of them, Mr. Dair, Caleb Schrow-
der, is on the point of moving away now."

" I know that, and a wise man he is in
doing it ; but now as to the other two."

" I presume," said Somers, after a slight
pause, " that they will continue to live
here. At least, I am not aware of any-
thing to the contrary."

" Then just listen to me one moment,
and after you hear what I've got to tell,
you may make it known to your clients —

since its your notion to have them for
clients. This is Tuesday; there are four
days left of this week — they may have
these four days and all of next week
besides, to pack up their plunder and
move. If they are found between the Forks
of the Hardwater next Monday week, it
will be the worse for them Perhaps you
know something of me, Mr. Somers; if
you do, you can't doubt that I'm not one
to speak a thing I don't mean. I'm no
fool either; I am not ignorant that there
is a risk in talking before-hand of what's
to be done, to a lawyer, and a keen one
too, like you ! but the fact is — and I want
you to think of it well — I know precisely
where I am, and what ground I've got to
stand on. I don't stand alonCy either.
Let the Yankees go away of their own ac-
cord, next week, or — "

" Or what, Mr Dair V*

" I know I've no business telling you,"
replied the man, checking his horse, " but
the devil's welcome to Ripley Dair the
minute he's afraid to speak his thought.
Let the Northerners be off of themselves,
or there'll be hands to move them off, — and
that roughly."

" My road lies this way," he added,
turning, " take notice — after next week.''''

Somers thought it his duty to inform
Dubosk and the Newloves of the commu-
nication Dair had made to him. He added
no comment, for he was aware of the
responsibility of giving any. The man's
declaration might be an empty threat,
which would never be executed, but it
might prove something moi-e serious. They
should interpret it whose interests and safe-
ty were concerned.

Ralph Dubosk heard the announcement
quite stoically ; but after he had revolved
the matter in his mind a little while, he be-
gan to waver.

" I'm not afraid of any one man of the
set, for all the pistols and so forth they
say they carry. If I only got my grip on
him, I would'nt care if he had a wagon load
of shooting-irons in his pocket ; but when
a whole country gets a rising, then to be
sure the scrape begins to look kind of se-
rious."

" That is very like my opinion," said
Mr. Newlove, and he went on to make
some further observations.

Dubosk rejoined, and the consultation

1850.]

Everstone.

619

between the two was protracted to a consi-
derable length. Finally, Dubosk turned to
Emma, who had been a silent listener :

" What do you think of it, Miss New-
love ?"

" I cannot speak," she said, " I ought
not to speak for any but myself. My
situation is very different from that of
others. / must not leave here, for if I did,
the flight would be attributed, not to appre-
hension of danger, but to consciousness of
being deservedly exposed to danger."

" She's not going, then V said Dubosk
inquiringly to her father.

JVewlove sighed, and looked towards
Emma.

She rose from her seat involuntarily, as
she answered the mute appeal. " No : I
must remain — I cannot go — it will not do
for me to think of it. Yet let me not in-
volve others. Determine for yourself what is
expedient, without reference to my course."

" I shall stay," said the farmer, '' To
do anything else would be downright fool-
ish, that's the truth."

As for Somers, he had his own part to
perform, and he found it of no little diffi-
culty. Of course, the first step was to
discover the person who had been the bear-
er of the Harrison Survey. He questioned
Mallefax thoroughly, but the fellow, if he
was not as ignorant as he pretended, was
well prepared for the attack, and bore it
without flinching. He applied to Newlove.
The good man, however, knew nothing,
except by the report of his daughter, and
she had told him only just so much as she
had told Somers himself. The next resort
•was to Absalom Handsucker. The over-
seer did his best to enumerate all the per-
sons, who, to his knowledge, had been to
the house during the winter. Among the
names was Alonzo Safety's.

" What was his business V inquired the
lawyer.

" Why, nothing in relation to the paper.
It was only about the money he owed."

" What money .?"

" Hadn't you heard of it .? It was lent
before you went out west — must have been
a month before. At any rate, I'm sure it
has no manner of concern with the forged
survey."

" Never mind that — tell me all you know
about it."

" Why, you see, Nehemiah Gibbs, a

VOL. V. NO. VI. NEW SERIES.

Connecticut man, had been talking it into
Mr. Safety that there was some sort of mine
on his land, which had only to be shewn
forth to make a splendid spec. The next
thing was, that Mr. Safety wanted to bor-
row three hundred dollars, and, what do
you think, he looks to mc for it. His wife
had put this kink in his head — she's a
queer woman, is that Mrs. Safety. She
believes every Northern man is as rich as
a king. — I wonder what they come South
for, then .'' I rather guess it isn't because
they've got so much money they feel obli-
ged to travel down here to spend it. But,
as I was saying, Mr. Safety had to look to
somebody else for the cash. I recom-
mended him to Miss Emma, and sure
enough she let him have it. She said she
wouldn't charge him any interest for three
months, but made him promise to pay it
back in that time. Well, the day came,
and he hadn't the money. Miss Emma
was very much put out. For all her soft-
ness and quiet ways, she's particular in
these matters, and whenever she once puts
down her foot anywhere, you may depend
she stands as stiff as a gate-post. She
told him she depended on that three hun-
dred to pay Sam JMunny a debt of the
same amount. Thereupon, Mr. Safety
offers to hand over his own note to Sam
Munny, and so make it all the same, and
in that way it was settled."

" Was Safety angry because she was
so strict with him V

" Oh, no, she never made anybody an-
gry-"

" Can you tell me, Absalom, whether
Munny has ever been paid V

" Yes, sir, I rather guess he has — in fact,
I'm in a manner certain of it. Sam, it
seems, after a month's waiting, began to
kick up a fuss, but very soon settles down
quiet, so it turned out he'd got the three
hundred."

'' How did Safety manage to raise it for
him .?"

" That he never told me himself. The
truth is, I have been sort of shy of ask-
ing him, for fear he'd be popping out with
another call on me, and whether I get his
daughter or not, I don't want to encourage
him in the trick of turning to me to help
him along in his foolish speculations.
However, Mrs. Safety let on that John
Astivillehad given them a loan."

620

Everstone.

[June,

" Astiville — indeed f "
" You may well wonder, Mr. Somers,
for everybody says Mr. Astiville 's a miser-
able close-fisted old chap. Mrs. Safety
takes great pride in telling how she's in
some way related to his family — how, ex-
actly, I never could well make out from
her story, but I should judge he isn't a
man to think it a part of religion to take
care of all his kinsfolks."

" Nor do I think so, Absalom. — By the
way, you visit at Mr. Safety's quite often,
do you not V

" No: not to say often — not more than
three or four times a week, besides Sun-
days."

" You are very moderate indeed," re-
turned Somers, " I have not time to talk
longer just now, but as I want to consult
with you upon matters in general, I will
find an opportunity to see you again in
the course of a day or two. By that time,
perhaps, you may have some news to tell
me."

Wednesday, Thursday and Friday,
had passed. As the week drew to-
wards its close, the pressure upon Som-
ers' mind became heavier and heavier. —
The uneasiness which Sidney Everlyn's
frown inflicted, was absorbed in more seri-
ous anxiety. His clients were of right en-
titled to his first thought, and that thought
he had given when it required him to post-
pone his own happiness to the mere pecu-
niary advantage of strangers ; but now
there was more at issue than the fate of a
law-suit. Though Ripley Dair were a
drunken braggart, destitute both of cour-
age to attempt the execution of his threats,
and of the influence which could command
the co-operation of others, the lawyer not
less keen-sighted than resolute, recognized
many additional signs of danger. Whilst
thus conscious of the responsibility resting
on him, he felt a painful embarrassment
arising from the difficulty of discerning a
course of action adequate to avert the evUs
that threatened.

Not for a moment doubting the truth of
Emma Newlove's representation of the
origin of the survey, he trusted that thorough
and continued investigation, would bring to
light the person who, he was confident, had
been the agent of a conspiracy against her.
Yet the time was very short ; and even if
the truth were discovered, how would it be

possible in a single week to convince men
of it .'' This, however, was the only hope.
What he had gathered from Handsuck-
er, had induced a vague suspicion that Alon-
zo Safety might have been the messenger
whose name Emma had bound herself not
to disclose. Hence he looked forward with
no little eagerness to the overseer's second
report. He was too wary an examiner,
however, to let his witness see the point to
which his questions tended. No sooner had
the lawyer fastened his eye on Absalom,
than he perceived that something had oc-
curred since the previous meeting, which
had produced a notable effect on the wor-
thy man's mind. The first words uttered,
confirmed the indications afforded by the
sober and thoughtful countenance.

" Gracious, goodness ! Mr. Somers, — "
" What have you heard .?"
" Heard i It's not hearing that's to
speak of, but plain eye-sight. I have seen
what I am sure I never expected to look
on when I left old York. Arabella, too !
Who'd have thought it .?"

" Arabella — that's the name of Safety's
daughter, is it not .'"'

" Yes — sir," — answered Absalom, in
a reluctant long-drawn and most doleful
tone, " I went there yesterday afternoon —
it was earlier than common — before supper
in fact — things had gone so beautiful and
sweet the evening before, that I hadn't pa-
tience to wait any longer than I could help.
I walked right into the parlor, hoping Ara-
bella might be there, and there she was

sm'e enough — but goodness me ! "

" What was wrong .'"'
" T can't talk about it, su-. The memo-
ry of it makes me mad !"

And, at one word, Absalom with one hand
fiercely slinging aloft his axe, drove the
edge deep into the heart of the sycamore
log, near which he was standing.

" Never before," he added, "never be-
fore in all my life, Mr. Somers, was I so
astonished and horrified ! I had heard tell
of such a thing — but Arabella ! — ugh ! "

" Tell me what it was you found so
startling ; perhaps, after all, it admits of
being explained."

" I don't want it explained. Oh, it's
too sickening to talk about ; the very
tJiougJit of it is worse than a dose of seeny
and salts ! If these be Southern ways that
a body must get used to, here's one child

1850.]

Everstone,

621

that's bound to wheel right-about-face, and
in double quick time too !" Did you ev-
er read a book by the name of the Myste-
ries of Udolpho, Mr. Somers ? It's a lit-
tle book in fine print."

" Yes, I know what you mean."
•' Do you remember how it tells of
raising up a curtain, and then seeing all
sorts of sights .^"

" Yes.''^

" Well, sir, the way the body felt that
h'isted that curtain, was not a circum-
stance to what I felt yesterday evening.
I'd rather see all the graves in a church-
yard dug open. I'd rather look on ghosts
of a moonlight night, and hear the bones
rattle inside their wliite sheets. I'd rather
be in the night-mare, and have a big red-
eyed old woman drag me by the hair till
my head struck over the edge of a thousand
foot precipice, and I could see at the bot-
tom a host of pitch forks sticking up ready
to catch me. I'd rather look on any-
thing that ever a crazy critter raved about,
than meet that sight again!"

" But what news had Mrs. Safety to
give } Did she say anything more in re-
gard to that debt to Mr. Astiville."

" I didn't stay one minute in the house,
Mr. Somers — how could I .'"'

" StUl, this is not the only visit, surely,
you have made since Tuesday .^"

" Oh, no — and now I come to think of
it, there was some talk two or three even-
iEo-s ago about the three hundred dollar

trouble. One thing's clear, which is that
the Marm, for a wonder, doesn't know as
much about that matter as ]\Ir. Safety
does. I noticed he always got deaf and
sleepy as soon as she got to poking ques-
tions at him respecting it. Besides Ara-
bella— hang the girl, I hate to think of her
now! — she told me Thursday night, her
mother was mighty inquisitive to leani how
her father had persuaded old John to fork
over. It seems he'd tried to get money from
him afore this time, and could not."

" Did the young lady say how her fath-
er was accustomed to answer interrogatories
on this point .?"

" Yes, sir ; you see I'm mighty good at
pumping when my curiosity's up, and I
drew her on very artful. She said he gen-
erally answered in a careless, indifferent
way that old Jack had let him have it pret-
ty readily on his offering his note, and giv-
ing fahhful promise to pay interest punc-
tually ; however. Bell said afterwards, that
this wasn't always the case, but once in a
while her father would get fidgetty, and,
though he wouldn't show anger to Mrs.
Safety — 'cause why, Mr. Somers ? he's
afraid — yet that when she herself, that's
Bell, took to asking him something about his
visit to Greywood, he answered very short
and sharp, so that she wondered at it, be-
cause he wasn't apt to be so. This is all I
know, Mr. Somers, and all I ever can
know, for I've done courting in Redland.

(To he Continued.)

622

William H. Seward.

[June

WILLIAM H. SEWARD.

Biography is valuable mainly as a de-
relopment of Ideas, first, through the con-
templation, consequently through the life
of the subject. Whoever has transcended
in thought and then in action the beaten
path of ordinary opinion and endeavor, has
become a legitimate object of general in-
quiry and interest, though born in a garret,
living in humble obscurity, and finally laid
to rest m unmarked, unconsecrated earth.
Whoever has not thus transcended has no
claim to our personal interest or study,
though nations bowed to his sceptre and
monarchs trembled at his frown. " All the
days of Methuselah were nine hundred six-
ty and nine years, and he died," — such are
the comprehensive and significant terms
in which the father of Sacred History wise-
ly chronicles a life blameless indeed, but
signalized by no extension of the bounda-
ries of human thought, no decided contri-
bution to the well-being of the race.

William H. Seward was born at Flo-
rida, Orange County, New-York, on the
16th of May, 1801. His father, Samuel
S. Seward, a physician of energetic char-
acter and thrifty aptitude for business, had
recently migrated thither from New-Jersey,
where the family had found a home since
its progenitors came to this country. John
Seward, the father of Dr. Seward, and
grandfather of William H., was an ardent
whig of the Revolution, and served effec-
tively as a colonel of militia, as occasion
prompted, throughout the Revolutionary
struggle. The Sewards are of Welsh ori-
gin ; Mary Jennings, who became wife of
Dr. Seward and mother of WUliam H.,
was a dauhgter of Isaac Jennings, and of
of Irish descent.

WiUiam H. Seward enjoyed the advan-

tages of school and academical education
in his native village and in Goshen, the
county town, until 1816, when he entered
Union College, Schenectady, at the age
of fifteen, so qualified as to be advanced
one year in the coUegiate course. His as-
siduity in study and capacity of acquire-
ment are not yet forgotten in the college,
and the friendship and esteem of the vene-
rable President Nott have ever since been
among his most treasured possessions.

In January, 1819, when in the senior
year of his course, he withdrew for a year
from College, spending six months of the
term at the South, making inquiries and
observations which have doubtless influen-
ced potentially his private convictions and
public acts with regard to some of the most
exciting and difficult questions of the age.
The residue of his vacation he devoted to
the study of the law at his father's resi-
dence. When the next senior class had
reached the point at which he had left his
own, he returned to college and completed
his course, graduating in August 1820, and
sharing the highest honors with William
Kent, (son of the illustrious Chancellor,
and since Professor of Law in Harvard
University,) and Tayler Lewis, (since Pro-
fessor in the New- York University, as now
in Union CoUege.)

]\Ir. Seward soon afterward resumed the
study of law with John Anthon, Esq., in
this city, and completed his preparation for
the bar in Goshen with John Duerand Og-
den Hofi"man, Esqrs., being associated with
the latter in practice for the six months
preceding his admission, in October, 1822.
On the 1st of January, 1823, when a little
more than twenty-one years of age, he re-
moved to the infant village of Auburn,

1850.]

William H. Seward.

623

Cayuga County. He there commenced in
earnest, as a stripling among strangers, the
building up of a practice and a reputation,
without fortune or patronage, save the in-
terest accorded him in the declining busi-
ness of Elijah Miller, Esq. who was then
withdrawing with a competence from the
labors of his profession.

In 1S24, ]\Ir. S. married Frances Ade-
line, daughter of Judge IMUler, by whom
he has had five children, three sons and two
daughters, all of whom but one daughter
are still living.

The political life of j\Ir. Seward may be
said to date from 182S, though he had re-
ceived the testimonial of a nomination for
Surrogate of his county by Governor Clin-
ton in 1825, and the honor of a rejection
by the hostile Senate of that year. It is
now time to glance at his political views
and their antecedents.

His father. Dr. Seward, was an ardent
and devoted champion of Jeffersonian De-
mocracy, and the son early imbibed and
zealously maintained the principles of that
school, acting naturally and heartily with
the professors of the faith upon his first as-
sumption of the responsibilities of active
citizenship. But when there was enacted
in 1824 the farce of a nomination of Craw-
ford and Gallatin for President and Vice-
President by a decided minority of the
Democratic ^Members of Congress, in con-
tempt of the remonstrances and protests of
the majority, and ' the party' was summon-
ed to sustain that illegitimate and distaste-
ful nomination, on penalty of being stig-
matized and excommunicated as Federal-
ists ! young Seward was among the
thousands in our State, as in others, who
spurned and defied the mandate, and de-
manded that the novel and momentous Is-
sue thus raised be submitted in our State
to a direct vote of the people. The de-
mand was contemptuously scouted by the
wire-workers, who, well aware that they
had httle or no chance with the people, had
no doubt of their ability to choose a full
Electoral ticket by the already elected Le-
gislature, to which the choice was confided
by the existing law. Under the lead of
IVIartin "N'an Euren, Silas Wright, A. C.
Flagg, and their associates, a biU giving
the choice of Electors to the people was
repeatedly defeated in the Senate — the last
time by the vote of Silas Wright, who had

obtained his election as a Senator by the
votes of political adversaries, expressly on
the strength of assurances that he would
support the People's Electoral law. So the
choice of Electors continued vested in the
Legislature, but so intense and general
were the popular excitement and indigna-
tion thereby created that several of the
Republican JNIembers whose votes were
counted secure for the Crawford Electors
disappointed that expectation, united with
the small band of ' Republican' or ' Buck-
tail' Members openly favorable to Henry
Clay for President, and, by an understand-
ing with the Clintonian members who sup-
ported ]Mr. Adams for President, a com-
promise Electoral list was made up fi-om
the tickets of the two sections, voted by
both, and nearly all elected. Four only of
the Crawford list of Electors were chosen,
having been voted for by one or two of the
Clay members, and one of these was of
doubtful preference, who finally cut the
knot which perplexed him by voting for
Gen Jackson. Twenty-five Adams and
seven Clay electors completed the New.
York College. And in the midst of the
contest the State went with whirlwind
sweep for the ' People's party,' electing
De Witt Clinton Governor by 16,000 ma-
jority, James Tallmadge Lieut. Governor
by 30,000, and choosing an Assembly of
corresponding politics. The Senate, being
but one-fourth chosen annually, remained
m the interest of the Crawford managers,
and among its acts was the punishment of
WUliam H. Seward for his contumacy in
standing with the People agamst the Caucus.
Mr. Seward was not moved by this re-
buff to abandon the party of his choice. A
democrat in every pulsation of his heart,
every fibre of his frame, by every tradition
of his childhood, he hoped and trusted that,
when the immediate cause of aberration
should have passed away, the party of his
affections would be found once more on the
side of Freedom and Popular Rights. But
when, in 1S2S, he found the entire machi-
nery of that party in the hands of Van
Buren, Wright, Flagg, Cambreleng, and
the deadly enemies of the poUcy of Inter-
nal Improvement in the State, and the more
insidious and equivocating but not less
deadly enemies of systematic Protection to
Home Labor and the improvement of Riv-
ers, Harbors, &c., by the Federal Govern-

624

William H. Seward.

[June,

ment, when lie saw the wh-e-workers of the
party of his love using their control over
the party machinery to harness New York
to the care of the treaty-breaking clespoilers
of the Cherokees in Georgia, of the cabal
which had ridiculed, reprehended, and
resisted the efforts of Adams and Clay
to strengthen the cause of South Amer-
ican Liberty and Independence by prompt-
ly and cordially acceding to the invitation
to send Embassadors to a Congress of
American Republics at Panama, and
which had concentrated its forces upon
two ultra champions of eternal and expan-
sive Slavery for President and Vice-Presi-
dent, with the probable and too successful
intent of securing every Electoral vote
South of the Potomac, Mr. Seward delib-
erately and finally shook off the dust from
his feet, and abandoned the profaned and
desecrated temple where Democracy had
once dwelt, and whereon her name was still
glaringly inscribed to delude and betray.
Abandoning no principle which, as a De-
mocrat, he had ever cherished, but on the
contrary maintaining and rejoicing in them
all, braving an overwhelming local majority
and the strong probability of a long exclu-
sion from public trust, he took his stand
with those who, regardless of past differ-
ences, rallied around the Administration of
Adams and Clay from a conviction of its
eminent ability, purity, sound principles
and devotion to the public good, resolved
that the sorceries of Party should never
more incapacitate them for giving instant
and effectual heed to the dictates of Public
Good.

The year 1828 was signalized by the
first distinct convocation of Young Men,
as such, in our State, with reference to poli-
tical affairs. A Young Men's State Con-
vention of the friends of the National
Administration was held at Utica, August
12th, of which Mr. Seward was chosen
President. It was attended by four hun-
dred delegates from all parts of the State,
and remained several days in session. Al-
though its immediate object was defeated
by the election of Jackson and Calhoun,
its ultimate influences on the public senti-
ment of our State were, and still are, salu-
tary. Many of our purest and best men date
their interest in and connection with pubhc
affairs from the call of that Convention.

The disastrous struggle of 1828 was
conclusive for the time, and with its result
the Administration party, as such, was
paralyzed and virtually disbanded. But a
new party was simultaneously rising in the
West, which embodied the elements of re-
sistance to the malign policy which had se-
cured an unquestioned ascendancy in the
National councils. The abduction and
death, in 1826, of William Morgan, a se-
ceding Freemason, of Batavia, Genesee
Co., had profoundly agitated and excited
the Western portion of our State. The
developments made in connection with or
in consequence of that tragedy, had con-
vinced many thousands that the Masonic
Institution, however useful in darker times
and under despotic governments, where
daggers were constitutions and the fear of
secret conspiracy and violent death the
only practical checks on the antics of ar-
bitrary power, was unnecessary in and un-
suited to our day and country, and con-
tained at least the germs of gigantic evil,
the means in the hands of the unprincipled,
daring and subtle, of fatal aggressions on
public liberty and private security. The
Anti-Masonic party thus called into exist-
ence cast some 33,000 votes for Solomon
Southwick as Governor in 1828, in defi-
ance of the hopelessness of his success and
the absorbing struggle between the Adams
and Jackson parties ; in 1829, there was
no other but the Anti-Masonic ticket run
in opposition to the Jackson in the West ;
and in 1830, Francis Granger, who, de-
clining the Anti- Masonic nomination for
Governor, had been the Adams candidate
for Lieut. -Governor in 1828, was nomina-
ted by the Anti-Masons for Governor, with
Samuel Stevens, an esteemed Whig of this
city, for Lieutenant, and the ticket thus
formed was supported by all the Anti-
Masonic and most of the Anti-Jackson
strength of the State. Mr. Seward was in
like manner, while absent from the district
and without having sought the distinction,
nominated and supported for Senator from
the Seventh District, then comprising the
counties of Onondaga, Cayuga, Cortland,
Seneca, Ontario, Wayne and Yates, and
he was elected by some 2,000 majority,
though the district had given a large Jack-
son majority the preceding year. He re-
ceived ten votes more than his opponent in

1850.]

William H. Seward.

625

Cayuga County, which had never before
thought of bolting any candidate bearing
the Democratic label, and which had given
some 1 ,800 majority for Jackson two years
before. Mr. Granger, though nobly sup-
ported in the West, was deserted by the
Anti-Jackson men in many of the Eastern
Counties, and failed of an election by some
8,000 votes.

Mr. Seward took his seat in the Sen-
ate, being his first introduction into of-
fice or public life, at the meeting of
the new Legislature in January, 1S31 — a
young member of a small minority, at a
time when Party was despotic and our
State especially under the sway of an as-
cendancy familiarly known as " The Re-
gency," which combined general ability
with consummate knowledge of the springs
of human action and a devotion to Party
for Party's sake in a degree seldom equaled.
Van Burcu, Croswell, Wright, Flagg, N. P .
Tallmadge, Perley Keycs, Samuel Beards-
ley, Cambreleng, Jonas Earll, Jr., Col. S.
Young, John Cramer, John A. Dis, (a
recent convert,) and their associates, form-
ed a nucleus of Political management and
influence whose lightest whisper was heard
and obeyed in the remotest corner, the
most out-of-the-way nook, of the State. —
Wielding the patronage of the Federal as
well as that of the State Government, back-
ed by the unequaled popularity and seem-
ing invincibility of Gen. Jackson, they had
gradually moulded every feature of our
State's institutions to the one purpose of
increasing and perpetuating their own pow-
er. The entire Judiciary of the State above
the grade of Justice of the Peace was man-
ufactured in Albany, and most of it subject
to re-appointment at short periods. All
manner of W^eighing, Measuring, and test-
ing the quality as well as quantity of staples
sold and delivered, was legally confided to
functionaries designated by the Central
Power, into whose hands the Banks had
recently been more completely thrown, by
tbe superinduction of the famous Safety-
Fund system upon the basis of the older
plan of special charters and exclusive priv-
ileges to be accorded only as the Legisla-
ture— that is, the Regency — should think
best for ' the Party ' Even the business
of selling goods by Auction was a close and
gainful Political Monopoly ; no man being
authorized to pursue that calling until for-

mally nominated by the Governor and con-
firmed l)y the Senate, so that merchants of
unspotted integrity and undoubted capaci-
ty, whose retirement from their life-long
vocation of selling goods by Auction would
have been regarded as a public misfortune,
were refused commissions for nothing else
than Political contumacy, and compelled to
7aVe the name of one or another grog-shop
declaimer and ward-meeting packer, who
had procured an Auctioneer's commission
as the due recompense of his services to
' the Party,' and who was thus enabled
to live in vicious idleness and debasing in-
trigue from year to year, on the spoils of
the business community. Surrogates, Com-
missioners of Deeds, Notaries Public, &c.
were all made in Albany, of course. Even
the few offices of piu-ely local character,
such as County Treasurers, Keepers of
Almshouses, &c. which had formerly and
with obvious propriety been filled by the
Boards of Supervisors of their several
Counties, were, by Regency legisla-
tion, required to be chosen by a vote of the
County Judges conjoined to the Boards of
Supervisors, thus adding five devoted vas-
sals of the Regency to the Board in each
case, and paralyzing eflfort for a Whig Board
in balanced Counties. And, as if to guard
against the consequences of any sudden
giving way of overtaxed popular endurance,
the Senate, whose assent was requisite to
give validity to any new State appointment,
in default of which the incumbents held
ov^er indefinitely, had been arranged by
a ' Republican' ascendancy in the late Con-
stitutional Convention, so as to be re-elect-
ed one-fourth annually, and, with the usual
' Republican' preponderance of three-
fourths to seven-eighths in that body, no
popular outbur.st against the Party, (as
was proved in 1824, and was again demon-
strated in 1837,) could be potent to shake
the Regency in this citadel of its power. It
could only be overcome by years of steady
and decided popular antagonism, and for
this it was presumed that the cohesion and
discipline of the disorganized and headless
opposing array would never be found ade-
quate, but must succumb, after a year or
two at most, to the disciplined, experienced,
carefully chosen and well-paid drill-ser-
geants of ' the Party. ' Thus every aspiring
youth was measurably constrained to enroll
himself in the ranks of the self-styled ' Re-

626

William H. Seward.

[June,

publicans ; ' he could choose the adverse
side only by consenting to forego all rea-
sonable chance of official emolument or dis-
tinction. If he were not a ' Republican'
of the Regency stripe, he had no shadow of
chance to be a Master or Examiner in
Chancery, Notary, Commissioner, District
Attorney, Auctioneer, Inspector, &c. nor
to obtain any post opening the way to con-
sequence or fortune. Such was the politi-
cal bondage of the State of New York
when Wm. H. Seward first took a seat in
her Legislative halls.

The limits of this Memoir will not al-
low more than a glance at his Senatorial
career. Though uniformly in a minority
embracing hardly a fourth of the Senate
and of the entire Legislature, and there-
fore without hope of any immediate cor-
rection of the great evils and abuses above
indicated, he yet made his abilities and his
assiduity respected by his adversaries and
admired by his compatriots. The great
cause of Internal Improvement found in
him a most ardent, fearless and effective
supporter, as did that of Universal Educa-
tion, including every proposition looking to
an increased efficiency in our Common
School system. He supported the act
abolishing Imprisonment for Debt ; that
meliorating the Prison Discipline of our
State ; the erection of a separate Peniten-
tiary for Female Convicts, &c., and was
assiduous and influential in the discharge
of his duties as a member of the anomalous
Court for the Correction of Errors, of
which the Senate then constituted an in-
tegral portion and numerical majority.

The Deposits of Public Moneys were
arbitrarily, unconstitutionally and in defi-
ance of a vote of the People's Representa-
tives, removed by Gen. Jackson's order
from the United States' Bank in Septem-
ber, 1S33. The Commercial consequen-
ces of that despotic usurpation began to be
felt early in 1834, and induced a natural
and intense Political commotion. Mr.
Van Buren was then Vice-President with
the Presidency in reversion, Wm. L. Marcy
Governor, Messrs. S. Wright and N. P.
Tallmadge U. S. Senators, with S.
Beardsley, Cambreleng and a peculiarly
docile delegation in the House. It was
essential to them all, but especially to the
Heir Apparent, that New-York should
with emphasis sustain the high-handed act

of the President, and all the vast ma-
chinery of the Regency was put in opera-
tion to that end. Resolutions approving
the Removal were promptly presented in
and driven through the two Houses at Al-
bany ; and on their heel came a proposition
through Gov. Marcy for a State Loan of
Six Millions of Dollars, to be placed at the
disposal of the State officers and by them
employed in sustaining the Banks and
Business of our State, which, it was al-
leged, were imperiled by a war waged upon
them by the Bank of the United States !
Extraordinary and exceptionable as this
measure was, its contrivers found no diffi-
culty in passing it ; indeed, it would be
hard to imagine an act which they could
not have passed by ample majorities. And,
though they never borrowed nor loaned a
dollar under it, and probably never expect-
ed to do either, yet the measure was none
the less effective for the end in view. Not
to protect the Safety-Fund Banks from
apprehended hostility or feud, but to renew
and confirm their fealty to their Regency
creators and to secure the votes of their
long array of stockholders, officers and
customers in the impending struggle, was
the act devised, and that purpose was ef-
fectually answered.

Against this series of measures a speech
was made by Senator Seward which thrill-
ed the hearts and won the admiration of the
Whigs of our State. It was an effort which
pointed him out to thousands as the fittest
leader of the embattled W^hig host, and it
was followed in due course by his nomina-
tion a few months later as the Whig can-
didate for Governor of our State in the
approaching election. And, though the
combination of interests, patronage and
power in the adverse array, aided by dis-
astrous results in the States voting just be-
fore New- York, proved ii-resistible, re-
electing Gov. Marcy by some 12,000 ma-
jority, yet the Whig vote polled for Mr.
Seward was larger than had been cast for
the candidate of either party at any pre-
ceding election, except possibly that for
Gen. Jackson two years before. The
Whigs were of course beaten throughout
and paralyzed for several succeeding years,
and Mr. Seward returned to his practice,
his Senatorial term closing with 1S34.

But 1837 brought the explosion of the
Pet Bank policy, drawing after it the col-

1850.]

William H. Seward.

627

lapse of the Political ascendancy which
had for ten years ruled New-York without
check or remission. With the freneral
Suspension of Specie Payments the Safety-
Fund agglomeration and the Political
fabric whereof it made a part fell into
shapeless ruin. Without much effort or
expectation, the Whigs swept the State
like a tornado, choosing six of the eight
Senators and one hundred of the one hun-
dred and twenty-eight Members of x\ssem-
bly. The Senate remained strongly Re-
gency, as were the entire body of State and
Canal officers, but the prestige of popular
favor and their great preponderance in
talent as well as numbers in the House
enabled the victors to commence in earn-
est the long needed work of Political Re-
form. The Freedom of Banking, under
general and equal laws designed to guard
the bill-holders against loss by exacting a
desposit of ample security for all paper
issues ; the overthi'ow of the Auction Mo-
nopoly ; the liberation of the Whig Coun-
ties from the Regency shackles imposed on
them by the intrusion of the Albany-made
Judges into the appointment meetings of
the Boards of Supervisors ; the restoration
to the People of the right to use Small
Bank Notes, and the re-invigoration of our
Internal Improvement policy, — such were
the leading objects of Whig Legislative
effort throughout the memorable session
of 1838, some of which were then carried,
and the speedy triumph of the residue
rendered morally inevitable. Mr. Sew-
ard held no public station, but he was
frequently in Albany, in friendly counsel
with the Whig Members, and heartily con-
curred in their general views and mea-
sures. And when in due time the Whig
Delegates assembled to designate stand-
ard-bearers for the ensuing Election, he
was a second time nominated for Gover-
nor, and this time with better fortune. In
spite of unexpected disasters to the Whig
cause in Pennsylvania, Ohio and other
States, depressing hope and threatening to
paralyze effort in our own, Mr. Seward
was chosen Governor by 10,421 majority
over Gov. Marcy, who had been three
times elected by large majorities. The
Whigs also chose Mr. Bradish Lieut. Gov-
ernor ; and prevailed in the Legislature and
Congressional Delegation by like majori-
ties ; but, though they again chose a ma-

jority of the Senators elected, the dead-
weight accumulated under other auspices
stilt held the Senate faithful to the Re-
gency. In all other departments, the
Whig triumph was complete.

Gov. Seward was inaugurated on the 1st
day of January, 1838, and directly trans-
mitted to the Legislature his first Annual
Message. As this document is character-
istic of the man, and develops the funda-
mental ideas on which his public life has
been grounded, the following extracts may
be read in this connection with interest :

" There have been periods of debasement when
it was believed that the energies of man were un-
equal to greater achievement, and his character
susceptible of no further improvement ; that a law
of necessity fmstrated all efforts to increase hi3
security or mitigate the evils of his condition ; and
that his destiny would be speedily completed by
destruction sent from the presence of unoffen-
ded Deity, upon him and the earth he had polluted.
The tendencies of the present age indicate a more
cheering result. The light of his intellect increas-
es in brilliancy and reveals new mysteries to liis
persevering investigation. His passions become
more equal and humane ; his energies break
through the restraints of power and prejudice, and
the democratic principle leads his way to universal
liberty. Froward indeed would this generation
be to ask for other signs than it now enjoys, that
our race is ordained to reach, on this continent, a
higher standard of social perfection than it has
ever yet attained ; and that hence will proceed the
spirit which shall renovate the world. The agen-
cy of institutions of self-government is indispensa-
ble to the accomplishment of these sublime pur-
poses. Such institutions can only be maintained
by an educated and enlightened people.

It requires national wealth to dispense effectual-
ly the blessings of science, and social ease and in-
dependence to produce a desire for their enjoy-
ment. But education and national prosperity are
reciprocal in their influence. If it were asked
why knowledge is generally diffused among the
American people, the answer would be because
wealth is more generally diffused. And if it were
inquired why the solaces and enjoyments of life
are found in our dwellings, the reply would be
that it is because education has been there. The
augmentation of both prosperity and knowledge
may be indefinite, and the security of Republican
institutions be constantly increased, if that aug-
mentation be impartially distributed. The spirit
therefore that per^-ades our country and animates
our citizens to seek the advantages of competence,
is to be cherished rather than repressed. It re-
sists the inroads of aristocracy and demolishes all
its defences. It annihilates the distinctions, old
as time, of rich and poor, masters and slaves. It
banishes ignorance and lays the axe to the root of
crime.

To enlarge, therefore, national prosperity, while
we equalize its enjoyments and direct it to the uni-
versal diffusion of knowledge, are the great respon-

628

William H. Seward.

[June

sibilities from which arise the systems of Internal .
Improvement and Education.

Our country is rich, beyond all she now enjoys, in
latent, unappropriated wealth. The minerals
within the earth are not more truly wealth hidden
and unused, than the capabilities of its surface to
yield immeasurable fruits to sustain the steps and
gladden the hearts of the children of men. Emi-
gration tending Westward with constantly increas-
ing numbers manifests the resources of native labor
we possess to render these capabilities productive.
There is another resource which is ours neither by
inheritance, nor by purchase, nor by violence, nor
by fraud. It is the labor, the incalculable surplus
labor, of the European States. This is wealth, and
the moral energies of those who bring it hither are
an element of national greatness. They come to
us under the same law which controlled the colo-
nists in their emigration and settlement here. They
force themselves upon us even though we inho.?pita-
bly resist them. The surplus capital of Europe, too,
is seeking our shores with the same certainty and
in obedience to the same aw. Anathematized
though it be from our high places, and denounced
by those who, removed by fortune beyond the ge-
neral necessities, desire to maintain the power de-
rived from what remains of inequality in our social
condition, it still flows unseen over our land, and
abounding prosperity vindicates its presence and its
usefulness.

This tide is now acquiring increased volume
and velocity from the reduction of the distance be-
tween the two continents by Atlantic steam navi-
gation. They who would roll it back must change
not merely the relations existing between this
country and Europe, but the condition of so-
ciety on both continents. They must re-invigorate
the energies of Europe, substitute democracies for
her thrones, and religious toleration for her hier-
archies. They must subvert the institutions and
break down the altars of Liberty in America, ar-
rest the prosperity of the nation, deprive enter-
prise of its motives, and deny to labor its rewards.
If all this is not done, the settlement of our West-
ern regions will go on ; new States will demand
admission into the Union ; their trade and com-
merce will continue to augment our wealth, and
their citizens, no matter whence they spring, to
claim us as brethren. If the energies of the new
States already planted adjacent to the shores of the
lakes be seconded and sustained by a wise and
magnanimous policy on our part, our State, within
twenty years, will have no desert places — her com-
mercial ascendancy will fear no rivalry, and her
hundred cities renew the boast of ancient Crete.
The policy of this State includes every measure
which tends to develope our own resources, or
those of the regions which can be made tributary
to our commerce, and every measure which in-
vites the labor and capital of Europe. It requires
that we welcome emigrants among ourselves, or
speed them on their way to a Western destination,
with all the sympatliy which their misfortunes at
home, their condition as strangers here, and their
devotion, to liberty ought to excite. If their incli-
nation leads them to remain among us, we must
assimilate their principles,habits, manners and opin-
ions to our own. To accomplish this, we must

extend to them the right of citizenship with all
its inestimable franchises. We must secure to
them, as largely as we ourselves enjoy, the immu-
nities of religious worship. And we should not
act less wisely for ourselves than generously to-
ward them, by establishing schools in which their
children shall enjoy advantages of education equal
to our own, with free toleration of their peculiar
creeds and instructions.

The year 1838 has been signalized by the mo-
mentous confirmation of the highest hopes excited
by the successful application of steam power to the
propulsion of boats. But this wonderful agent has
achieved, almost unobserved, a new triumph, which
is destined to effect incalculable results in the social
system. This is, its application to locomotion upon
the land. Time and money are convertible. Hus-
bandry of the one is economy of the other, and
is equivalent to the economy of labor. Railroads
effect a saving of time and money ; and, notwith-
standing all the incredulity and opposition they en-
counter, they will henceforth be among the com-
mon auxiliaries of enterprise. Happily, it is not in
our power to fetter the energies of other States, al-
though we may repress our own. This useful in-
vention, like all others, will be adopted by them,
although it gain no favor with us ; and they who
are willing that New-York shall have no Rail-
roads must be ready to see all the streams of
prosperity seek other channels, and our State sink
into the condition of Venice, prostrate and power-
less among the monuments of her earlier greatness.
A glance at the map would render obvious the
utility of three great lines of communication
by Railroads between the Hudson River and the
borders of the State. One of these would tra-
verse several of the Northern Counties, and reach
with its branches to Lake Ontario and the St.
Lawrence. A second, keeping the vicinity of the
Erie Canal, would connect Albany and Buffalo.
A third would stretch through the Southern Coun-
ties, from New- York to Lake Erie.

It is certain that neither one or two of these
improvements would accomplish the useful ends
of all ; and, when the growing wealth and import-
ance of the several regions directly interested in
these improvements are considered, it is not less
clear that, however delayed, all must eventually
be completed. It remains, then, to be decided
whether it is wiser to regard them as trivial enter-
prises, each by the operation of local jealousies
hindering and delaying the others, or whether all
shall be considered as parts of one system and
equally entitled to the consideration and patron-
age of the State.

Action is the condition of our existence. Our
form of government chastens military ambition.
The action of the people must be directed to pur-
suits consistent with public order and conducive to
the general welfare. Our country will else be
rent by civil commotions or our citizens will seek
other regions, where society is less tranquil, am-
bition enjoys greater freedom, enterprise higher
motives, and labor richer rewards.

We are required to carry forward the policy of
Internal Improvement, by the abounding expe-
rience of its benefits already enjoyed ; by its incal-
culable benefits yet to be realized ; by all our obli-

1850.]

William H. Seward.

629

gationf? to promote the happiness of the people, to
multiply and raise their social enjoyments, to
maintain the fame of the State, inestimably dear to
its citizens, to preserve the integrity of the Union ;
and by the paramount duty we owe to mankind,
to illustrate the peacefulness, the efficiency, the
beneficence and the wisdom of Republican Institu-
tions. * * * «

The Colleges, Academies and Common Schools
constitute our system of public instruction. The
pervading intelligence, the diminution of crime,
the augmented comforts and enjoyments of society
and its progressive refinement, the ascendancy of
order and the supremacy of the laws, testify that
the system has been by no means unsuccessful in
diffusing knowledge and virtue.

It must nevertheless be admitted that its efficien-
cy is much less than the State rightfully demands,
both as a return for her munificence and a guaran-
ty for her institutions. Some of our Colleges and
Academies languish in the midst of a community
abounding in genius and talent, impatient of the
ignorance which debases, and the prejudices
which enslave. The Common School System,
but partially successful in agricultural districts, is
represented as altogether without adaptation to
cities and populous villages. The standard of
Education ought to be elevated, not merely to
that which other States or Nations have attained,
but to that height which may be reached by culti-
vation of the intellectual powers, with all the
facilities of modern improvements, during the en-
tire period when the faculties are quick and active,
the curiosity insatiable, the temper practicable, and
the love of trath supreme. The ability to read and
write, wdth the rudiments of arithmetic, generally
constitute the learning acquired in Common
Schools. To these our Academies and Colleges
add superficial instruction in the dead languages,
without the philosophy of our own ; scientific facts,
without their causes ; definitions, without practical
application ; the rules of rhetoric, without its spir-
it ; and history divested of its moral instructions.
It is enough to show the defectiveness of our en-
tire system, that its pursuits are irksome to all, ex-
cept the few endowed with peculiar genius and
fervor to become the guides of the human mind,
and that it fails to inspire either a love of science
or passion for literature.

Science is nothing else than a disclosure of the
bounties the Creator has bestowed to promote the
happiness of man, and a discovery of the laws by
which mind and matter are controlled for that be-
nignant end. Literature has no other object than
to relieve our cares and elevate our virtues. That
the pursuits of either should require monastic se-
clusion, or be enforced by pains and penalties upon
reluctant minds, is inconsistent with the generous
purposes of both. Society cannot be justly cen-
sured for indiflference to education, when those who
enjoy its precious advantages manifest so little of
the enthusiasm it ought to inspire. All the asso-
ciations of the youthful mind, in the acquisition of
knowledge, must be cheerful ; its truths should be
presented in their native beauty and in their natural
order : the laws it reveals should be illustrated al-
ways by their benevolent adaptation to the happi-

ness of mankind ; and the utility and beauty of
what is already known, should incite to the end-
less investigation of what remains concealed. If
Education could be conducted upon principles like
these, the attainments of our collegiate instruction
might become the ordinary acquirements in our
Common Schools ; and our Academies and Col-
leges would be continually enjoying new revela-
tions of that philosophy which enlightens the way,
and attaining higher perfection in the arts which
alleviate the cares of human life.

If these reflections seem extravagant, and the
results they contemplate unattainable, it need only
be answered that the improvability of our rdce is
without limit, and all that is proposed is less won-
derful than what has already been accomplished.
To the standard I have indicated, I do not hesitate
to invite your efforts. Postponed, omitted, and'
forgotten, as it too often is, amid the excitement of
other subjects and the pressure of other duties.
Education is, nevertheless, the chief of our respon-
sibilities. The consequences of the most partial
improvement in our system of Education will be
wider and more enduring than the effects of any
change of public policy, the benefits of any new
principle of jurisprudence, or the results of any en-
terprise we can accomplish. These consequences
will extend through the entire development of the
human mind, and be consummated only with its
destiny."

These extracts will seem long to those
who take care not to read them ; to those
who earnestly seek to know who and what
Gov. Seward is they will be more valuable
than a greater extent of narrative and as-
sertion. This Message was his first ofl&-
cial exposition of his views on the chief
topics of National and State concern ; and
by the light of these sentiments you may
easily and clearly read his whole public
career. Other extracts press for insertion,
and are put aside only because they would
swell this memoir beyond all reasonable
bounds.

Amid a very general defection and dis-
comfiture the Whigs of New-York main-
tained their ascendency in their State
Election of 1839, choosing an Assembly,
70 to 58, and so considerable a majority
of the Senators as to give them for the first
time a decided preponderance in the upper
House also. The Canals and every re-
maining department of the Government
except the Judicial now passed into Whig
hands. Many of the Reforms for which
the Whigs had vainly struggled for years
were now effected with little opposition.
Gov. Seward's second Message, in Janua-
ry, 1840, was in good part devoted to an
elocjuent and powerful vindication of the

630

William H. Seward.

[June,

Internal Improvement policy, to suggest-
ing and urging recommendations of Law
Reform, to Education, the Currency, the
Political action of the Federal Govern-
ment, &c., &c. Space willl not permit
even a synopsis of his positions and argu-
ments. The following passage, however,
occasioned so much controversy and en-
countered so very general a prejudice and
hostility that it cannot well be omitted :

" Although our system of Public Education is
well endowed, and has been eminently successful,
there is yet occasion for the benevolent and en-
lightened action of the Legislature. The advan-
tages of Education ought to be secured to many,
especially in our large cities, whom orphanage, the
depravity of parents, or some form of accident or
misfortune, seems to have doomed to hopeless
poverty and ignorance. Their intellects are as
susceptible of expansion, of improvement, of re-
finement, of elevation and of direction, as those
minds which, through the favor of Providence, are
permitted to develop themselves under the influ-
ence of better fortunes ; they inherit the common
lot to straggle against temptations, necessities and
vices; they are to assume the same domestic,
social and political relations ; and they are born
to the same ultimate destiny.

"The children of foreigners, found in great
numbers in our populous cities and towns and in the
vicinity of our public works, are too often deprived
of the advantages of our system of public educa-
tion, in consequence of prejudices arising from dif-
ferences of language or religion. It ought never
to bo forgotten that the public welfare is as deeply
concerned in their education as in that of our chil-
dren. I do not hesitate, therefore, to recommend
the establishment of Schools in which they may
be instructed by teachers speaking the same lan-
guage with themselves, and professing the same
faith. There would be no inequality in such a
mea.sure, since it happens from the force of cir-
cumstances, if not from choice, tliat the responsi-
bilities of Education are in most instances confided
by us to native citizens, and occasions seldom
offer for a trial of our magnanimity by commit-
ting that trust to persons differing from ourselves
in language or religion. Since we have opened
our country and all its fullness to the oppressed of
every nation, we should evince wisdom equal to
such generosity by qualifying their children for the
high responsibilities of citizenship."

It would seem difficult honestly to mis-
understand this wise suggestion of the em-
ployment of teachers for the ignorant and
vagrant children of our cities able to speak
a language that those children could un-
derstand and prepared to overcome their
natural distrust of and aversion to stran-
gers by the sympathy of a common reli-
gious faith, as a proposition that the chil-
dren should be taught in foreign lan-

guages instead of the English, and drilled
in Catholic catechisms instead of spelling-
books and readers ; and yet such a con-
struction of the Governor's suggestions
was very generally proclaimed and dogged-
ly persevered in, to his temporary but
serious injury. The above paragraphs, to-
gether with his urgent advocacy of Chan-
cery and Law-Practice Reform, cost him
at least Five Thousand votes in the ensu-
ing Election. But, Time at last sets all
things even.

The first outbreak of " Anti-Rent" re-
sistance to legal process during the last
twenty years had taken place a month be-
fore the transmission of this Message.
Gov Seward had instantly called out an
adequate Military force, whose simple pre-
sence in the excited district at once van-
quished all show of resistance to the laws,
though it was powerless against the spirit
in which the disturbances originated. The
Governor stated the facts in his Message ,
and added :

" The resistance to the Sheriff arose out of a
controversy between the tenants of the Manor of
Rensselaerwick and its proprietors. The lands in
that Manor are held under ancient leases, by
which mines and hydraulic privileges, rents paya-
ble in kind, personal services, and quarter-sales
are reserved. Such tenures, introduced before the
Revolution, are regarded as inconsistent with ex-
isting institutions, and have become odious to
those who hold under them. They are unfavora-
ble to agricultural improvement, inconsistent with
the prosperity of the districts where they e.xist, and
opposed to sound policy and the genius of our in-
stitutions. The extent of territory covered by the
tenures involved in the present controversy, and
the great numbers of our fellow-citizens interested
in the questions which have grown out of them,
render the subject worthy of the consideration of
the Legislature. While full force is allowed to
the circumstance that the tenants enter voluntarily
into such stipulations, the State has always recog-
nized its obligation to promote the general wel-
fare, and guard individuals against oppression.
The Legislature has the same power over the
remedies upon contracts between landlord and
tenant as over all other forms of legal redress.
Nor is the subject altogether new in the legisla-
tion of the State. It was brought under consid-
eration in 1812, by a bill reported by three Jurists
of distinguished eminence and ability. I trust,
therefore, that some measure may be adopted,
which, without the violation of contracts, or in-
justice to either party, will assimilate the tenures ia
question to those which experience has proved to
bo more accordant with the principles of Republi-
can Government, and more conducive to gen-
eral prosperity, and the peace and harmony of
Society."

1850.]

William H. Seward.

631

These suggestions, though generally de-
cried when made, have since been, if not
literally adopted, yet in effect surpassed.
Successive Legislatures have directed the
State's Attorney-General to institute pro-
ceedings for the recovery of lands held
under Manorial grants, where it shall seem
to him that said grants were invalidated by
fraud or by want of due authority in the
grantor. The Convention of 1S47 en-
grafted upon our Reformed Constitution
provisions intended to prevent the creation
of new and ultimately to extirpate all ex-
isting Manorial rights or privileges within
any State. And, by a late decision, our
Supreme Court has distinctly pronounced
the exaction of Quarter Sales, as stipulated
in most of the Manorial Leases, illegal and
void, being contrary to fundamental law
and Republican policy. The time is evi-
dently at hand when the securing of a
Homestead to each Family, of Land to each
Cultivator, and of Opportunity and full
Recompense to each individual willing to
Labor, will be recognized and acted on as
cardinal principles of a genuine Democracy.

The controversy between the Executives
of New-York and Virginia respecting the
nature and extent of the constitutional ob-
ligation to deliver up fugitives from justice
had mainly taken place the preceding sea-
son, though it was not then concluded. —
Gov. Seward refers to it in his Message in
the following terms :

" A requisition was made upon me in July last,
by the Executive of Virginia, for three persons as
fugitives from justice, charged with having felon-
iously stolen a negro slave in that State. I de-
clined to comply with the requisition, upon the
grounds that the right to demand and the recipro-
cal obligation to surrender fugitives from justice
between sovereign and independent nations, as de-
fined by the law of nations, include only those
cases in which the acts constituting the offence
charged are recognized as crimes by the universal
laws of all civilized countries; that the object of
the provision contained in the Constitution of the
United States, authorizing the demand and surren-
der of fugitives charged with treason, felony, or
other crime, was to recognize and establish this
principle of the Law of Nations in the mutual re-
lations of the States as independent, equal and
sovereign communities ; that the acts charged upon
the persons demanded were not recognized as crim-
inal by the laws of this State, nor by the universal
laws of all civilized countries ; and that conse-
quently the case did not fall within the provision
of the Constitution of the United States.

" The Governor of Virginia, in his last Annual
Message, referred the subject to the consideration

of the Legislature of that State, and declared that
my construction of the Constitution of the United
States could not be acquiesced in nor submitted to.
He added, that if it were allowed to prevail, and
no rcliet could be obtained against what he desig-
nated as a flagrant invasion of the rights of Virgin-
ia, either by an amendment of the Constitution of
the United States, or by the action of the Legisla-
ture of Virginia, it might ultimately become the
important and solemn duly of Virgniia to appeal
from the canceled obligations of the National
compact to original rights and the laws of self-
preservation.

" I confess my surprise that it should in any part
of the Union be regarded as a new and startlaig
doctrine that the Constitutional power of the Ex-
ecutive of any other State to demand the surrender
of a citizen of this State, to be carried to the for-
mer and tried for an ofience committed there, is
limited to cases in which the offence charged is
recognized as criminal by the statute laws of this
State, by the common law, orby the universal laws
of mankind. Nor can I withhold the expression
of my sincere regret that a construction of the
Constitution, manifestly necessary to maintain the
sovereignty of this State and the personal rights of
her citizens, should be regarded by the Executive
of Virginia as justifying in any contingency a
menace of secession from the Union."

The Election of 1840, which followed,
resulted in an overwhelming Whig victory.
Gen. Harrison was chosen President by 234
Electoral votes to 60 for Van Buren, the
Whigs fully maintained their ascendancy in
our State, and Gov. Seward was re-elected,
though by a majority seriously diminished
by the influences already alluded to. He
declined to stand for a third term. We
have had four Governors since, but as yet,
no one of them has been re-elected.

Internal Improvement, Law Reform, Land
Distribution, Educational Progress, and a
diminution of the expense of and impedi-
ments to Naturalization, were the chief
topics of his third Annual Message, trans-
mitted on the 5th of January, 1841. The
following paragraphs alluding to Gen. Har-
rison, the elected but not yet inaugurated
President, have a concise felicity of expres-
sion, of which time has not yet denuded
them:

" The Chief Magistrate of the Union will enter
upon his trust with favorable auspice ~. The public
good requires, and the public mind coni-ents to re-
pose. Fortunate in experience of public services in
the Senate and the field, in executive and diplomatic
stations ; fortunate in exemption from prejudice in
favor of any erroneous policy hitherto pursued ; for-
tunate in the enjoyment of his countiy's veneration
and gratitude ; and especially fortunate in having
at once defined and reached the boundary of his

632

William H. Seward.

[June,

ambition, the President can have no other objects
than the pubhc welfare and an honorable fame.

" The People expect that he will presei-ve peace,
mamtain the integrity of our territory and the in-
violability of our flag, co-operate with Christian
nations in suppressing piracy and the Slave-Trade,
avoid alliances for every other purpose, conduct
our foreign relations with firmness and fairness,
terminate our controversies with the Indian tribes,
regain their confidence, and protect them against
cupidity and fraud ; confine the actions of the
Executive Department within constitutional bounds;
abstain from interference with elections and the
domestic concerns of the States ; defer to the wis-
dom of Congress, and submit to the will of the
people ; observe equal and exact justice to all men
and classes of men, and conduct public affairs with
steadiness, that Enterprise may not be disappointed ;
with economy, that Labor may not be deprived of
rewards ; and with due accountability of public
agents, that Republican institutions may suffer no
reproach.

" If he shall endeavor to meet these expectations,
no discontents can affect — no opposition can em-
barrass him ; for he will act in harmony with the
spirit of the Constitution, and with the sentiment of
the People. And when, like him whose fame is
unapproachable, but whose wisdom and modera-
tion this distinguished citizen has adopted as his
great example, he shall have healed his country's
wounds, and restored her happiness and prosperity,
he will enjoy the rare felicity of a retirement more
honored than even his distinguished station."

Gov. Saward's fourth and last Annual
Message was transmitted in January, 1842.
The trial of McLeodforthe alleged murder
of a citizen of our State at the time of the
burning of the steamboat Caroline at Schlos-
ser, in the Niagara River ; the Public
School system of our city and its grave de-
fects ; the General Banking Law and its
deficiencies, as shown by experience, were,
after Internal Improvement, its more prom-
inent topics. On the subject of his still
unsettled controversy with the Executive
of Virginia, he says :

" I lay before you a law of Virginia calculated
to embarrass our Commerce. The effect of the act
is postponed until May next, and the Governor is
authorized further to suspend it whenever the Ex-
ecutive authority of this State shall surrender three
persons heretofore demanded by the Lieutenant-
Governor of the Commonwealth as fugitives from
justice, and the Legislature shall repeal the law
extending the trial by jury. I have respectfully
informed the authorities of Virginia that my con-
victions of the illegality of that requisition are un-
changed ; and that although New- York, from mo-
tives of self-respect and devotion to the Union, will
not retaliate, nor even remonstrate, yet she cannot
consent to remain a respondent, since Virginia has
seen fit to transcend the sphere assigned her by
the Federal Constitution, and to pass an aggressive

law ; but that this State will cheerfully return to a
discussion of the subject, with a sincere desire to ar-
rive at the conclusion mutually satisfactory and
conducive to the general harmony, whenever the
effect of that unfortunate statute shall be remedied
by the action of our sister State, or by an overru-
ling decision of the Supreme Court of the Uniied
States. The Legislature will decide whether the
trial by jury shall be relinquished, and whether a
State which acknowledges no natural inequality
of man, and no political inequality which may not
ultimately be removed, shall wrest that precious
shield from those only whose freedom is assailed,
not for any wrong-doing of their own, but because
the greatest of all crimes was committed against
their ancestors. Taught as we have been by the
founders of the Constitution, and most emphatical-
ly by the Statesmen of Virginia, we cannot re-
nounce the principle that all men are born free and
equal, nor any of its legitimate consequences. But
we can, nevertheless, give to Virginia, and to the
whole American family, pledges of peace, affec-
tion and fidelity to the Union, by relying upon le-
gal redress alone, and by waiting the returning
magnanimity of a State whose early and self-sac-
rificing vindication of the Rights of Man has enti-
tled her to enduring veneration and gratitude."

At the close of his second term. Gov,
Seward returned to Auburn and resumed
with ardor the pursuit of his long neglect-
ed profession, to which his next six years
were assiduously and most successfidly de-
voted. An extensive and lucrative prac-
tice in the Courts of the United States, es-
pecially in cases arising under the Patent
Laws, was rapidly acquired, and had in-
creased to an embarrassing extent when he
relinquished, so far as practicable, his prac-
tice in 1849, to devote himself to his new
Senatorial duties, and to settling the large
estate of his father, who died late in that
year. Though not a candidate for ofiice at
any time during these years, he yet devo-
ted a portion of 1844 to an active canvass
of our State in behalf of the Whig cause
and of Mr. Clay's election as President,
and in 1848 he addressed large assemblages
not only in this State but also in Pennsyl-
vania and Ohio in advocacy of the election
of Taylor and Fillmore.

Gov. Seward, though ardently engaged
in the canvass of 1844, through almost the
entire Summer and Fall, was unable to ac-
cept half the imposing invitations to speak
that urgently solicited his consent ; and the
brief letters he addressed to those whose
solicitations he was compelled to decline, are
among the most eifective appeals of that
memorable contest. In reply to the Whigs
of Orleans County, he wrote :

1850.

William H. Seward.

633

"AuBTJKN, May 19th, 1844."
" Our Revolutionary sires sung of tlie ' Tree of
Liberty' they planted and watered with blood, and
we, who rest under its branches, justly boast of its
fruits and rejoice in its protection. Yet the exile,
though invited from other lands, too often finds
himself an unwelcome intruder beneath its shade.
Masses of our countrymen too hastily seize and
satisfy them.?elves with its unripened fruits, while to
a whole race it yields nutriment as bitter as Apples
of Sodom. Let us stir the earth as then, and apply
to the roots of our noble Tree the fresh mould of
knowledge and religion, so shall it produce for all
alike and abundantly the sweet fruits of peace, se-
curity and virtue.

Gentlemen, Let the Whigs of the Eighth Dis-
trict look to this : they are not mere partisans, po-
liticians of the day, nor of the season, politicians
from interest nor expediency. When I had the
honor to be elected Chief Magistrate of this State,
I received in the Eighth Senate District a majority
equal to my entire majority in the State. During
the short interval of seven weeks between my elec-
tion and inauguration, I received more than a
thousand applications for ofirces. Of these applica-
tions two only came from beyond theCayuga Bridge.
To that region I look continually, confidingly, and
always, for the spirit which shall not merely re-
store prosperity when it has been lost, but which
shall constantly renovate and regenerate Society.
Look at our neglected and decaying Public Works.
Who shall renew and complete them but the Whigs?
Look at the Tariff" Law, which constitutes our
system of Protection ! passed in the Senate of the
United States on compulsion by a casting vote
perfidiously pledged to its speediest possible re-
peal. Who has saved it but the Whigs ? Look
at the stain of Repudiation on our National Honor.
Who shall efface it but the Whigs ? Look at the
intolerance, turbulence, conflagrations and shed-
ding of blood in the streets of an Eastern City,
and say how shall such crimes be averted but by
establishing the truth that all men are equal be-
fore the Constitution and the Laws 1 And who
shall do this but the Whigs, who always main-
tained the supremacy of the Laws 1

Look at the threatened extension of our territo-
ry, for the mere purpose of extending the public
domain of Slavery, and adding new bulwarks to
support that accursed institution. Who shall post-
pone this evil now '] A Whig Senate. Who can
prevent it hereafter but a Whig Administration and
a Whig Congress 1 And who shall lead the way
in those great measures but the Whigs of Western
New- York— who led the way in 1837 and 1838,
and in 1840 ? And who so fit a leader as Henry
Clay, whose self-sacrificing patriotism has so often
postponed its own rewards to save the interests, the
peace and the welfare of his Country 1
I am, gentlemen, with great respect.

Your humble servant,
William H. Seward."
To the Whigs of Michigan, who soon
after addressed hun a simUar and pressing
invitation, he returned the following an-
swer : —

" Auburn, June 12, 1844.

Dear Sir : — The Whig State Central Commit-
tee of Michigan could hardly have been conscious
how seductive would be the call they were mak-
ing upon me in their invitation for the 4th of July
next.

Independent of the great satisfaction I should
enjoy in becoming acquainted with the citizens of
your State who support the great party upon
which I have bestowed my confidence and affec-
tion, there is nothing in the range of human
knowledge I so much desire as to see and study
the Great West, its resources, its condition, its
prospects, and its growing influence upon the des-
tinies of our Country and of our Race.

But, my dear Sir, I have been long a truant to
domestic duties, and neglectful of personal inter-
ests. The inconvenience of this error must be
corrected. I cannot, therefore, gratify my desire
to see the West, at this juncture.

I should the more deeply regret this, if I had the
vanity to believe for a moment that what I could
say would at all promote the success of the
Whig party m Michigan. I could only speak of
the beneficent operations of the Tariff", and invoke
the People of Michigan to let it stand ; of the
desirableness of saving the avails of the Public
Lands, and applying them to Education, and the
improvement of our interior communications by
water, and invoke the aid of the people of Michi-
gan in lavor of a policy more important even to
them, than to the State to which I belong ; of the
deplorable error of adding bulwarks to the falling
institution of Slavery, which is the chief cause of
our national calamities, and the only source of na-
tional danger, and implore the Free People of
Michigan " to stand by the cause of human free-
dom ;" and of the importance of liberal naturali-
zation, as a chief element in our growing empire;
and appeal to the enlightened People of Michigan
to instruct their elder brethren of the East on a
principle which lies at the base of Western pros-
perity.

But there can be no need of such appeals to
such a people, and at least I shall have no special
claims on the attention of those whom I should
address.

Accept, my dear sir, for yourself and your as-
sociates, assurances of my very high respect, and
believe me, most respectfully your obedient ser-
vant, W iLLiAM H. Seward.

To M. Eacker, &c.. State Committee."

We give one more of these letters, and
give it entire, because of the honor it does
to a noble Commonwealth, first on the list
of immovably Whig States, and to two of
her illustrious Statesmen whom the Coun-
try delights to honor. Gov. Seward, hav-
ing been urgently invited to attend a great
gathering of the Whigs of Western Massa-
chusetts at Springfield, returned the fol-
lowing answer :

"Auburn, July 29, 1844.
Gentlemen : — The earliest studies of every citi-
zen in the history of Democracy in America carry

634

William H. Seward.

[June

him at once to Faneuil Hall, the Council Cham-
ber of Boston, and to Lexington and Bunker Hill,
the battle-fields of Massachusetts.

When sedition raised her thousand clamors, and
fears of the dissolution of the Union came thick
and fast upon me in a foreign land, opening a sad
perspective of commotions, declining public virtue
and the calamities of endless civil war, the voice
of Massachusetts, delivered by Daniel Webster,
defending our glorious Constitution, not for her
interests, nor her sake, nor her glory alone, but for
the peace, welfare and happiness of the whole
American People, quelled the storm, dispelled the
alarm, and assured mankind of the stability of
" Liberty and Union, then and forever, one and in-
separable."

Whenever and wherever fraud has planned a
mine to subvert a pillar of the Constitution, or
Power has meditated a blow against the People,
or against a citizen, or against an exile, or against
a slave, against anything in the shape of a Free
Society, or against anything in the shape of a man,
John Quincy Adams of Massachusetts has been
seen watching the design with eagle eye, and in
the moment of the attempted perpetration of the
crime the conspn-ators fell, the intended victim
rose free and safe, and the deliverer, unrewarded
and unthanked, set himself again on his endless
watch for the cause of Freedom and Humanity.

If I could be allowed to sit in the silence that
would become me in the proposed gathering of the
Whigs of Massachusetts, or if they would be con-
tent with my merely expressing the veneration and
reverence I cherish for them and her, I might be
persuaded to accept the hospitalities tendered to
me. But they have another object ; I am required
to speak. Massachusetts and her sons ' stand
there,' needing no praise from me, and asking
none. My life has already become a living
offence against my own conviction of propriety.
I cannot instruct, nor can I consent to seem as if
I thought I could instruct, those from whom it is
my pride to learn. I must therefore, gentlemen,
again decline your kind invitation. But I will
second in this State your noble efforts for Clay
and the Constitution with what ability I possess.
Past relations excuse my advocacy here, and it
seems not altogether unbecoming, because it is at
least dutiful and grateful.

Accept, gentlemen, renewed assurances of grate-
ful and affectionate respect and friendship.

William H. Seward.

George Ashmun, George Bliss, &,c., E.?.qrs."

A concurrence of malign influences de-
prived the Whigs of the victoiy in that
desperate contest to which they were en-
titled. Prominent among these influences
were the outbreak of Nativism in several
of our great cities, whereby the Adopted
Citizens, alarmed for their dearest rights,
were driven pell-mell into the Loco-Foco
ranks, while thousands were naturalized on
purpose to vote for Polk as the way to put
down Nativism, and many Immigrants voted

who were not naturalized at all, nor enti-
tled to be. Hardly less baleful was the
obstinate assertion of our adversaries in the
Free States that Mr. Clay was as favora-
ble and as much committed to the Annexa-
tion of Texas as Mr. Polk — an assertion
for which some color of countenance was
indeed extorted from the letters written by
Mr. Clay to Alabama, but which was none
the less a fraud and a falsehood, not only
in the absolute fact but in the conscious-
ness of its utterers. The votes thrown
away on Birney in this State alone because
of such assertion would have sufficed to
elect Mr. Clay. Other influences con-
spired with these to carry Mr. Polk into
the Presidential Chair, bring Texas into
the Union, and plunge the country into a
destructive, needless and therefore crimi-
nal War with , Mexico. Gov. Seward,
having done all that man could do to avert
these foreseen calamities so long as efi"ort
would avail, returned to his profession
when the result of the struggle of '44 was
declared, discharging his duty as a private
citizen and a Whig with unwavering fideli-
ty and biding in faith the dawning of a
brighter day.

On the evening of the 12th of March,
1846, a horrible destruction of human life
took place in Cayuga County. John G.
Van Nest, a worthy farmer residing in
Fleming, three miles south of Auburn,
with his wife, infant son and mother-in-
law, was butchered outright, and a guest
named Van Arsdale severely wounded.
The murderer was a negro, unknown to
the victims or the survivors of the family ;
but he stole a horse and rode away upon
it, was traced north to where he exchanged
it for another, also stolen ; and thence into
Oswego County, where, at a point forty
miles from Fleming, he was overtaken
and arrested next day. He proved to
be a half Indian, half negro, twenty-two
years old, born in Auburn, where he had
lived nearly all his life and spent five years
in the State Prison under a conviction for
horse-stealing. He was taken back to the
scene of the tragedy, fully identified as the
slayer, and ordered to stand committed for
trial as the murderer. But the immense,
excited concourse by this time assembled
there could ill brook the idea of awaiting
the slow process of indictment, trial and
execution. They were fierce for his blood

1850.]

William H. Seward.

635

then and there, and would brook no delay.
Pious deacons and sage justices clamored
Bavagely for an opportunity to tear him
limb from limb, and it was only by strata-
gem that the officers having charge of the
prisoner were enabled to baffle the fren-
zied crowd and run him into Auburn jail,
with the bloodhounds in full cry on their
track. The mob dispersed to diffuse their
excitement and thirst for blood all over the
interior of our State. The funeral of the
victims soon followed, and a mighty con-
course assembled around the encoffined re-
mains of the four lamented victims, to
whom Rev. A. B. Winfield, pastor of the
Church whereof those victims were mem-
bers, preached a sermon of which the fol-
lowing is the conclusion :

" If ever there was a just rebuke upon the falsely
so-called sympathy of the day, here it is. Let any
man in his senses look at this horrible sight, and
then think of the spirit with which it was perpetrated,
and, unless he loves the murderer more than his
murdered victims, he will, he must confess, that
the law of God which requires that ' he that shed-
deth man's blood by man shall his blood be shed,'
is right, is just, is reasonable. Is this the way to
prevent murder, by sympathy 7 It encourages it.
It steels the heart and nerves the aiTn of the assassin.

" But capital punishment is said to be barbarous,
cruel, savage. What does this amount to ? Why,
that God coHima7i(is tiaat which is barbarous, cruel
and savage .' Most daring blasphemy ! But ' all
punishment is for the good of the culprit, or else it
is tyrannical !' The wretch who committed this
horrid deed has been in the school of a State Pris-
en for five years, and yet comes out a murderer !
Besides, it is an undeniable fact that murder has in-
creased with the increase of this anti-capital-pun-
ishment spirit. It awakens a hope m the wretch,
that by adroit counsel law may be perverted, and
jurors bewildered or melted by sympathy ; that by
judges infected with it, their whole charges may
be in favor of the accused ; that by the lavishment
of money, appeals might be multiplied, and, by
putting off the trial, witnesses may die. Why,
none of us are safe under such a false sympathy as
this ; for the murderer is almost certain of being
acquitted ! If I shoot a man to prevent him break-
ing into my house and killing my family, these gen-
tlemen will say I did right. But if he succeeds, and
murders my whole family, then it would be bar-
barous to put him to death ! Oh, shame, shame .'
I appeal to this vast assembly to maintain the laws
of their country inviolate, and cause the murderer
to be punished."

The excitement thus created overspread
the whole region, and swept everything in
its course. As an example of its blind
fury — Cayuga had for some years been a
closely balanced County in Politics, rarely,
since 1837, giving 300 majority either

VOL. V. NO. VI. NEW SERIES.

way, and as often for one party as the
other. But in the election for delegates to
the Constitutional Convention, which took
place soon after this murder, though the
Whig ticket was headed by Judge Conk-
ling of the U. S. District Court, who at
any other time would have been elected,
the adverse candidates were all chosen by
about 1,000 majority. The popular fury
against negroes, excited by this murder,
coupled with the belief that the Whigs
would favor the extension of the Right of
Suffrage to Blacks, while their adversaries
avowedly would not, was mainly instru-
mental in producing this result. And its
influence was felt, though not so strongly,
in many other counties.

Freeman was indicted for murder on the
18th of May, and arraigned for trial on
the 1st of June. It was still a test of
courage to whisper, in any part of the
county, a word in extenuation of his crime,
or to doubt that he was legitimate prey for
the gallows. But William H. Seward
had inquired into the matter, and become
satisfied that the prisoner was of unsound
mind, at once shattered and imbecile, and
that he was not morally accountable for his
deed. He appeared in Court on the ar-
raignment as a volunteer counsel for the
accused, and entered a plea of Not Guilty
by reason of Insanity, and demanded a pre-
liminary trial on that issue. That plea was
especially odious to the popular mind, as it
was believed that several great criminals
had recently escaped the gallows by means
of it, one of them at Auburn. If a popu-
lar vote of the County could then have
been taken on hanging Freeman and his
counsel together, the affirmative would,
doubtless, have had an immense majority.
The Court took time to consider the plea,
and, on the 24th, decided that the issue of
sanity or insanity should be separately tried,
and ordered jurors to be drawn for the trial.
Hon. John Van Buren, Attorney General,
with Luman Sherwood, District Attorney,
appeared for the People ; Gov. Seward,
with his partners, Christopher Morgan and
S. Blatchford, to whom David Wright was
added, at Gov. Seward's request, by as--
signment of the Court, were counsel for
the prisoner. A jury was, after a sharp,
struggle, empaneled, and the trial pro-
ceeded.

Freeman, it appeared, had been a va-
41

636

William H. Seward.

[June

grant, errand-boy and menial from bis in-
fancy, staying wbere he could, and picking
up his living by doing odd jobs here and
there. That he was inefficient and intract-
able was notorious; some attributing his
inaptness to an obtuseness akin to idiocy,
while others suspected it had its root in in-
dolence and knavery. When hardly seven-
teen years of age, he had, by perjury, been
sent to State Prison on a conviction of
stealing a horse he never saw, and_ had
there, by reason of his rudeness and inca-
pacity, been beaten over the head so that,
(as was afterward proved,) the drum of
his ear was broken and his left temporal
bone was ever after carious and diseased.
He was henceforth more sullen and stupid
than ever, complained of deafness, seemed
to have little memory, but brooded ever on
the idea that he had worked five years in
the State Prison for nothing, and ought to
be paid for it. In this state of mind he
was liberated on the expiration of his sen-
tence in September, 1845, and continued
to mutter about his -five years' service, and
that he must and would be paid for it, to
all who would listen to him and to some
who would not, down to the time of the
murder. To those who visited him in jail
between the tragedy and the trial, his talk
was substantially the same. He insisted
that he could read, and seemed on trying to
do so, but merely uttered such incongruous
words and phrases as came into his head,
having no reference to the open page be-
fore him. When asked why he killed the
Van Nests, he only repeated his old story
about his five years' service, and that he
must be paid for it. He denied that he
had killed the child, however, and manifest-
ed sensibiUty when accused of it. He said
to one witness that Van Nest said to him,
" If you are going to eat my liver, I will
eat yours;" whereupon he (Freeman)
struck him. It appeared that Freeman's
brother had died of brain fever, an uncle
was a wandering lunatic, an aunt had died
deranged. Freeman himself had been to
various lawyers' ofiices to get justice for his
five years' service, had visited Mrs. God-
frey, whose horse he was convicted of steal-
ing, on the same errand. After a protract-
ed and arduous trial, the jury returned this
verdict, " Wejind the prisoner svfficicnthj
sound in mind and memory to distinguish
between Right and Wrong.'''' The pris-

oner's counsel demanded that this verdict
be rejected, and a simple verdict of " Sane"
or " Insane" required. The Court refus-
ed, and the counsel excepted. On the 6th
of July, the District Attorney moved on
the trial on the indictment, which Mr.
Seward opposed, but the Court overruled
him, and refused to hear argument. The
prisoner was arraigned, and asked if he de-
manded a trial on the indictment. He an-
swered "No." "Have you counsel.?"
" I don't know." "Are you able to em-
ploy counsel.?" "No." The Court di-
rected the clerk to enter a plea of " Not
Guilty," and that the trial proceed. Mr,
Seward here interposed an affidavit, asking
a continuance of the case, because of the
prisoner's infirm mind and helpless condi-
tion, the popular excitement against him,
and the absence of a witness deemed mate-
rial to prove his insanity. Motion denied.
A motion to quash the indictment for cause
was overruled ; as was a challenge to the
array of the panel for like cause. The trial
went on ; a jury was obtained ; and, on
the 23d, a verdict of Guilty was recorded.
On the 24th, Freeman was sentenced to be
executed on the 18th of September fol-
lowing.

The counsel for the prisoner promptly
interposed a bill of exceptions, alleging
errors and misdirections on various points
in the course of the trial. The argument
on this bill was made before the Supreme
Court, by Mr. Seward for the prisoner, and
Attorney General Van Buren for the Peo-
ple, and Chief Justice Beardsley delivered
the opinion of the Court, sustaining the
exceptions, reversing the judgment against
Freeman, and granting a new trial. Mean-
time, the Judge visited Freeman repeatedly
in his cell, became satisfied of his mental
disability, and refused to try him again. In
fact, it became speedily so evident that no
one could reasonably doubt it Gradually
declining in health and strength, Freeman
became more and more palpably idiotic and
deranged, and finally died in prison, August
21st, 1847.

If to statesmen are awarded honors and
to conquerors laurels, he who saves a com-
munity from its own blinding frenzy and
baleful passions is deserving of its grateful
remembrance. That Freeman was not
torn in pieces to satiate the wolfish ferocity
of a mob, was due to the tact of his custo-

1850.]

William H, Seward.

63;

dians'; th at he was not deliberately chokedfounded on the humiliation of Labor, as necessary

to death, while half insane, half idiotic, for
an oflFence of which he had no moral con-
sciousness, is due to the persevering fidelity
and self-forgetting humanity of William
H. Seward.

The hum of preparation for the contest
of 1848 again summoned Gov. S. to the
political arena. Early convinced that Gen.
Taylor combined with eminent fitness for
the station, an unequalled popularity among
those who are not decided partisans, but
whose votes, as they are cast into this scale
or that, determine the result of an election,
he was, though not prominent in the can-
vass, a decided advocate of the nomination
of Gen. T. up to the assembling of the
Whig National Convention at Philadelphia,
and thenceforth an ardent and assiduous
champion of his election. Though he spoke
frequently in our State, the certainty of an
overwhelming Whig triumph here rendered
speaking well nigh superfluous, and he
therefore accepted invitations to address the
Whigs of Pennsylvania and of Ohio, to set
forth the reasons which induced him — ar-
dently devoted to the preservation of every
inch of Free Territory from the irruption
of Slavery and hoping for the Emancipa-
tion of the Enslaved universally — to unite
in the support of Gen. Taylor. The fol-
lowing extract from his speech at Cleve-
land, Ohio, will convey a fair idea of his
views and positions :

" There are two antagonistical elements of So-
ciety in America — Freedom and Slavery. Free-
dom is in harmony with our system of Govern-
ment, and with the spirit of the age, and is there-
fore passive and quiescent. Slavery is in conflict
with that system, with justice and with humanity,
and is therefore organized, defensive, active, and
perpetually aggressive.

" Freedom insists on the emancipation and'eleva-
tion of Labor ; Slavery on its debasement and
bondage. Slavery demands a soil moistened with
tears and blood ; Freedom, a soil that e.xults un-
der the elastic tread of Man in his native majesty.

" These elements divide and classify the Ameri-
can People into two parties ; each of these parties
has its court and its sceptre. The throne of the
one is amid the rocks of the Alleghany mountains,
the throne of the other is reared on the sands of
South Carolina. One of these parties, the party of
Slavery, regards disunion as among the means of
defence, and not always the last to be employed.
The other maintains the Union of the States, one
and inseparable, now and forever, as the highest
duty of the American people to themselves, to
posterity and to mankind.

" The party of Slavery uphold an aristocracy

to the perfection of a chivalrous Republic. The
party of Freedom maintains universal suffrage,
which makes men equal before human laws, as
they are in the sight of their common Creator.

" The party of Slavery cherishes ignorance, be-
cause it is the only security for oppression. The
party of Liberty demands the diffiision of know-
ledge, because it is the only safeguard of Republi-
can institutions.

" The party of Slavery patronizes that Labor
which produces only exports to commercial nations
abroad, tobacco, cotton and sugar, and abhors the
Protection that draws grain from our native fields,
lumber from our native forests, and coal from our
native mines, and ingenuity, skill and labor from
the free minds and willing hands of our own people.

" The party of Freedom favors only the produc-
tions of such minds and such hands, and seeks to
build up our Empire out of the redundant native
materials with which our country is blest.

" The party of Slavery leaves the mountain, ravine
and shoal to present all their natural obstacles to
mtemal trade and free locomotion, because Rail-
roads, Rivers and Canals are highways for the es-
cape of bondmen.

" The party of Liberty would cover the country
with railroads and canals to promote the happiness
of the people, and link them together with the in-
dissoluble bonds offriendship and affection.

" The party of Slavery maintains its military
defences, and cultivates the martial spirit, for it
knows not the day, nor the hour, when a standing
army will be necessary to suppress and extirpate
the insurrectionary bondmen.

" The party of Freedom cherishes peace, be-
cause its sway is sustained by the consent of a
happy and grateful people. The party of Slavery
fortifies itself by adding new slave-bound domains,
on fraudulent pretext and with force.

" The party of Freedom is content and moder-
ate, seeking only just enlargement of Free Terri-
tory through fear of change.

" The party of Slavery declares that institution
necessarily beneficent, and approved by God, and
therefore inviolable.

" The party of Freedom seeks complete and uni-
versal emancipation. You, Whigs of the Reserve,
and you especially. Seceding Whigs, none know
so well as you that these two elements exist, and
are developed in the two great National parties of
the land as I have described them. That existence
aud development constitute the only reason you
can assign for having been enrolled in the Whig
party, and mustered under its banner, so zealously
and so long. And now, I am not to contend that
the evil spirit I have described has possessed one
party without mitigation or exception, and that
the beneficent one has on all occasions, and fully,
directed the action of the other. But I appeal to
you, to your candor and justice, if the beneficent
spirit has not worked chiefly in the Whig party,
and its antagonist in the adverse party."

Gen. Taylor was chosen President and
Mr. Fillmore Vice-President in the elec-
tion which soon followed, and in this State
the Whig ascendancy, owing to the bitter

638

William H. Seward.

[June,

feud and nearly equal division of the ad-
verse host into supporters of Van Buren
and Cass respectively, was overwhelming.
The Whig plurality on the Electoral and
State tickets was nearly 100,000 votes,
and the Assembly exhibited nearly or quite
one hundred Whig majority out of one
hundred and twenty-eight Members. Tne
Senate had been chosen the previous year,
when the feud was much less definitive and
imiversal, and stood twenty-four Whigs to
eight opponents of both sections. On the
Legislature thus composed — the most de-
cidedly Whig that New- York had ever
seen, embracing representatives of the party
from nearly every neighborhood in the State
— devolved the duty of electing a United
States Senator, in place of John A. Dix,
whose term would expire on the 4th of
March then ensuing. A very eager and
animated canvass early and naturally
sprung up among the friends of our promi-
nent Whig Statesmen, by any of whom the
post might justly be regarded as the goal of
an honorable ambition. This canvass was
closed on the evening of the 1st of Febru-
ary, 1849, when the Whig Members of the
Legislature assembled to designate the can-
didate of their choice for Senator. The
vote on the first informal ballot stood —
William H. Seward, 88; John A. Collier,
12 ; all others, 18 ; blanks, 4. Gov. Se-
ward having nearly three-fourths of the
whole number, was unanimously nominated,
without proceeding to a formal ballot, and
on Tuesday the 6th ensuing, he was elect-
ed a Senator of the United States, for six
years from the 4th of March then ensuing,
by a vote of 121 for him to 30 for all
others.

Gov. Seward took his seat in the Senate
on the day of Gen. Taylor's Inauguration,
(March 5th, 1849,) and is understood to
have withdrawn from the labors of his pro-
fession, so far as his engagements would
permit, in order to devote himself thorough-
ly to the duties of his station and to those
of the responsible private trust already al-
luded to. Heartily concurring with and
supporting the general views and mea-
sures of the illustrious Patriot now happily
filling the Executive Chair of the Nation, he
has yet vindicated his integrity to his own
convictions by a uniform affirmance of the
Right of Petition, the natural Equality of
all Men, and the duty devolving on Con-

gi-ess of protecting and shielding the Ter-
ritories of the United States from the in-
trusion of Human Bondage. While thus
maintaining his own principles — sometimes
in a minority of tv^o or three only — he has
studiously refrained from giving personal
offence to others or taking offence at any
sallies Oi malevolence and impertinent de-
traction. Never moved from his natural
equanimity by the insults or taunts of the
few who hoped to commend themselves to
local favor and eclat by scurrilous attacks
on the representative in that body of Three
Millions of Freemen — the undoubted, un-
faltering champion of the Right of All Men
to Freedom and its attendant blessings —
he has kept due on in the straight path
lighted before him by the sentiment of Hu-
manity and by his convictions of Truth,
Public Policy, and Christian duty. His
votes and his speeches have been, all as one,
on the side of Justice, Equality and Bene-
ficence. From his speech of March 11th,
on the Admission of California, in connec-
tion with the Slavery Question — a speech
which posterity will recognize as the mem-
orable incident of the Session of 1850, and
of which already Half a Million copies
have been printed without satisfying the
demand for it — a single extract will close
this Memoir :

'■■ - ■■ ■-■ '■■■ ■. .-«■/?'

" The Union, the creation of necessities physical,
moral, social and political, endures by virtue of the
same necessities ; and these necessities are strong-
er than when it was produced, by the greater
amplitude of territory now covered by it ; stronger
by the six-fold increase of the society living under
its beneficent protection ; — stronger by the aug-
mentation ten thousand times of the fields, the
work-shops, the mines and the ships of that socie-
ty, of its productions of the sea, of the plow, of
the loom, and of the anvil, in their constant circle
of internal and international exchanges ; stronger
in the long rivers penetrating regions before un-
known ; — stronger in all the artificial roads, canals
and other channels and avenues essential not only
to trade but to defense ; stronger in steam naviga-
tion, in steam locomotion on the land, and in tele-
graph communications unknown when the Con-
stitution was adopted ; — stronger in the freedom
and in the growing empire of the seas ; — stronger
in the element of national honor in all lands, and
stronger than all in the now settled habits of vene-
ration and affection for institutions so stupendous
and useful,

" The Union then IS, not because merely that
men choose that it shall be, but because some Go-
vernment must exist here, and no other Govern-
ment than this can. If it should be dashed to
atoms by the whirlwind, the lightning, or the

1850.]

William H. Seward.

639

earthquake to-day, it would rise again in all its
just and magnificent proportions to-morrow.

" I have heard somewhat here, and almost for
the first time in my lite, of divided allegiance — of
allegiance to the South and to the Union — of al-
legiance to States severally, and to the Union.
Sir, if sympathies with State emulation and pride
of achievement could be allowed to raise up an-
other sovereign to divide the allegiance of a citizen
of the United States, I might recognize the claims
of the State to which by birth and gratitude I be-
long— to the State of Hamilton and Jay, of
Schuyler, of the Clintons and of Fulton — the State
which, with less than 200 miles of natural naviga-
tion connected wiih the ocean, has, by her own
enterprise, secured to herself the commerce of the
Continent, and is steadily advancing to the com-
mand of the commerce of the world. But for all
this, I know only one country and one Sovereign
— the United States of America and the American
People.

" And such as my allegiance is, is the loyalty of
every other citizen of the United States.

" As I speak he will speak when his time ar-
rives ; he knows no other country and no other
sovereign ; he has life, liberty, property, and pre-
cious aflJections and hopes for himself and for his
posterity, treasured up in the ark of the Union ; he
knows as well and feels as strongly as I do, that
this Government is his own Government ; that he
is a part of it ; that it was established for him, and
that it is maintained by him ; that it is the only
true, wise, just, free, and equal Government that
has ever existed ; that no other Government could
be so wise, just, free and equal ; that it is safer and
more beneficent than any which time or change
could bring into its place.

" You may tell me, Sir, that although all this
may be true, yet that the trial of faction has not

yet been made ! If the trial of faction has not been
made, it has not been because that faction has not
always existed, and has not always menaced a
trial, but because faction couldfind no fulcrum on
which to place the lever to subvert the Union, as it
can find no fulcrum now ; and in this is my confi-
dence. I would not rashly provoke the trial, but
I will not suffer a fear which I have not to make
me Compromise one sentiment, one principle of
truth or justice, to avert a danger that all experi-
ence teaches me is purely chimerical. Let those,
then, who distrust the Union make Compromises to
save it. I shall not impeach their wisdom, as I
certainly cannot their patriotism, but, mdulging no
such apprehensions myself, I shall vote for the ad-
mission of California, directly, without conditions,
without qualification, and without Compromise.
For the vindication of that vote I look not to the
verdict of the passing hour, disturbed as the public
mind now is by conflicting interests and passions,
but to that period, happily not far distant, when
the vast regions over which we are now legislating,
shall have received their destined inhabitants.

" While looking forward to that day, its count-
less generations seem to me to be rising up and
passing in dim and shadowy review before us.
And the voice comes forth from their serried
ranks, saying, ' Waste your treasures, and your
armies, if you vsdll ; raze your fortifications to the
ground ; sink your navies into the sea ; transmit to
us even a dishonored name, if you must ; but the
soil that you hold in trust for us, give it to us Free !
You found it free and conquered it to extend a
better and surer freedom over it. Whatever choice
you have made for yourselves, let us have no par-
tial freedom ; let us all be free ; let the reversion of
our broad domain descend to us unincumbered and
free from the calamities and the sorrows of humaa
bondage.'"

640 Moss and Rust. [June,

MOSS AND RUST.

FROM TPIE GERMAN OF FRIEDRICH LEESER.

Two aged men stood near a rnoss-clad tomb • . •

That marked a battle of an olden day ; • •, >

A nasted sword lay in the rank green grass, " . ^ .
And answered not the noontide sun's bright ray.

One gently touched the ancient sepulchre.

And mused, and deeply sighed, and shed a tear ;

Then, in the faltering tone of mourning love, '^

Poured these sad words into his comrade's ear : . ■

" Moss grows on the old monument of stone, . ' ■ . '
And acts a tender, charitable part : , -

I had a faithful Friend : he, like the Moss,

Guarded me well, and bound my crumbling heart."

The other peeled the rust from the old sword.
And marked its ravage on the blade of death ;

Then, with a shudder, let the relic fall.

And spake with trembling voice and gasping breath :

" Rust gathers on the stricken warrior's sword.
And acts the savage part of a rude foe : ' ,

I had an enemy : he, like the Rust,

Devoured my heart of steel, and laid me low."

They said no more, but, arm in arm, walked on ;

I marked their aged forms, so bent and weak.
Beheld the rusted sword and moss-clad tomb.

And, as I gazed, a tear rolled down my cheek.

G. M. P.

1850.]

Whitney'' s Pacific Rail Road.

641

WHITNEY'S PACIFIC KAIL ROAD

Our readers know our opinion in rela-
tion to Mr Whitney's plan of rail road
to the Pacific. We embrace, with plea-
sure, the opportunity of giving place in
our columns to the following letter to
the London Times^ inasmuch as it pre-
sents some of the most forcible rea-
sons we have ever yet seen, even from
Mr. Whitney's hand, in favor of that
great enterprise, to which he has devoted
his life. The whole world will be surpris-
ed at the announcement of the bold propo-
sition, that, "should the Pacific Ocean
burst its bounds, and mingle with its sister
Atlantic, opening a Strait from Panama to
Tehuantepec, the commercial world would
not be particularly benefitted by it. " If this
be so, it must be obvious that a canal, or rail
road, or both, across the Isthmus, wUl only be
of temporary importance, but inadequate,
in the end, to establish a new route of
commerce, of material benefit to the world.
Mr. Whitney's facts and reasons on this
point, if we do not mistake, will be regard-
ed with interest. Any person can test one
of his main points by taking a string, and
measuring the distances on the sm-faces of
the globe, as he prescribes. His facts, in
connection with his reasons, demonstrate a
profound consideration of the general sub-
ject, and if susceptible of thorough vindica-
tion, naturally wiU constitute the pivot of
that powerful lever, which he has already
applied to the public mind, to move it to
the consummation of his proposed scheme
of a rail road across this continent, l^his
letter might, perhaps, properly be put for-
ward as the text and basis of his great en-
terprise. It is the text, as the best ho-
mily yet given of its importance, and a
basis as constituting the platform on which
his general reasoning rests. If the sub-
stance of the statements in this letter be
correct, the argument is concluded, and
nothing remains but for the Government

to set INIr. W^hitney to work. It is sino-u-
lar that the world should have been so long,
for ages, magnifying the importance of a
ship canal across the Isthmus, when, as
would seem from this document, it can be
of so little benefit to commerce. Even
with that canal, the great desideratum, to
wit, a shorter and less expensive route to
Eastern Asia, would stUl be wanting.

Mr. Whitney speaks truly of the stu-
pendous efi'ects of changes of routes in the
great channels of commerce, on the destiny
of states and empires ; and his own great
conception is well developed in his aver-
ment, that there can be but one more
change of this kind, to wit, a cheap way of
transport across the American continent,
as far north in the United States, as may
be convenient, in the two items of saving
of distance, and of finding the means of
building the road in the wild lands on the
route. Providence seems clearly to have
indicated the route of these provisions.
There they are, and no where else. All
Mr. W^hitney asks is : let me have those
means, which would otherwise lie dormant,
and be good for nothing to anybody, and I
will buQd the road, without one dollar's ex-
pense to the country, and with an incalcu-
lable benefit to the people of the United
States, and to the world. We submit the
letter :

Washington City, Jan. 10, 1850.
To the Editors of the London Times.

Gentlemen — I am not a little surprised at
the frequent remarks in the London Journals,
on the subject of a communication between
the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans at Panama,
Nicaragua, and Tehuantepec. These specula-
tions seem to have led the world astray, as well
in Europe as America. But your merchants,
who are acquainted with the commerce of the
world, your men of science, your geographers,
and your navigators, must see, if they will take
a globe, measure it, and examine the subject,
that, should the Pacific Ocean burst its bounds

642

Whitneifs Pacific Rail Road.

[June,

and mingle with its sister Atlantic, opening a
stvait from Panama to Tehuantepec, the com-
mercial world would not be particularly bene-
fited by it.

In the first place, it will he seen, by a refer-
ence to a map or globe, that the range of
mountains in South America which divide it,
and form the Atlantic and Pacific slopes, run
so close to the Pacific Ocean, that there is but
a small space for population, fro3i Cape Horn
to Upper California.

Secondly — The continent running north and
south fiom Cape Horn to the Arctic Ocean,
gives to both slopes, the same climates and
soils, the products of which must always be
similar, and therefore exchanges on a large
scale cannot take place.

Thirdly — The commerce of the Pacific slope,
hitherto confined almost exclusively to South
America and Mexico, is small, and cannot be
increased in these quarters, because it is un-
certain, and not founded upon regular exchan-
ges. The most of it is now more properly
an Atlantic trade, being founded by smuggling
merchandize over the mountains, from the Pa-
cific to the Atlantic side, and must de-
crease as soon as steam is used on the many
rivers running into the Atlantic. The settle-
ment of the Pacific slope, north and south,
must, after a short time, not only cause a di-
minution in the present amount of commerce
with Europe and the Atlantic slope of the
United States, but lessen intercourse also ;
for when the North Pacific slope becomes set-
tled, as it soon will be, the difierent parallels,
from Cape Horn to the Pacific Ocean will ex-
change with each other, and supply each oth-
ers wants. The entire coast will exchange
with the Pacific Islands, with Japan, China
and all Asia, and its commerce and principal
intercourse will be with these parts, and its
own different sections.

It being a fixed law that the avails of labor
must always return to the region of its own
products, and be there consumed to the extent
of, and in such articles as the wants of the
producer may require ; and as the wants of the
people who may inhabit the Pacific slope can
generally be better supplied by natural ex-
changes, and from the Pacific Islands. Japan,
China, &c., than from either the Atlantic
slopes of the United States or Europe, except-
ing only a small amount of manufactured
goods, (with which, also, they will, after a
little supply themselves,) it is, therefore, clear
to my mind, that settlement on the Pacific
slope, with capital and enterprize, will soon
establish for themselves a commerce and inter-
course directly with the Pacific Islands, and
with Asia, which will be more mutual, more
convenient, and more profitable than inter-
course and trade with the eastern slope of the
United States and Europe.

From the most recent official tables, it will
be seen that the British commerce with Chili
was, per annum, for 1842 :

54 vessels, 14,138 tons.
Foreign vessels, 32 9,889

Total, 86 24,027

And it will be found that the voyage from
Valpairaiso to London, by Cape Horn, is short-
er than by Nicaragua. Is it not, therefore,
certain that, were the Islhmus swept away,
this trade would continue its present route 1

For the same year, and from the same tables,
(Parliamentary Reports,) I find that the British
commerce with Peru was :

42 ves.
France,
U. S. (Treasury Rep.,

1846,) with Chili,

With Peru,

Others,

11,989 tons.
409

4,873

1,045
596

Total, 62 18,912

This 18,912 tons, then, is the amount of the
Pacific commerce in this quarter, which might
pass over the Isthmus by railroad or canal,
and which cannot be greatly increased. The
question here presents itself, as to what will
be the products of the Pacific slope, which
may be wanted either in Europe or on the
Atlantic slope^?- Certainly none of the pro-
ducts of the soil ; because the Atlantic slope
will always produce the very same, in greater
abundance, at much less cost ; and this view
applies to all latitudes north and south, and to
all the Pacific Islands. But there is the gold,
the silver, the quicksilver, precious stones, and
the common minerals. The common minerals,
iron, coal, copper and lead, cannot be brought
this side for a market, because, like the pro-
ducts of the soil, they are cheaper here— and
the precious metals, as they do not enter largely
into commerce, except in their passage from the
mines, to be employed as the medium of trade,
and to settle balances in the commercial world,
will soon find their level, based chiefly upon
the labor which produces food for man, and
this species of labor employs more than eight-
tenths of the population of the globe.

The next two steamers to arrive (this letter
isWated January 10, 1850,) will probably bring
from California nearly the whole remainder
of the mines for two years. These two years
have probably been as prosperous as any that
may succeed. The amount received here
in the United States Avill not then probably
exceed $11,000,000 reckoning by the mint
amount, the only reliable source, which is ac-
tually less than the estimated amount of gold
and silver coin sent there from this quarter.
In addition to this we have sent to California
some $20,000,000 of other property. Now,

1850.]

Whitney's Pacific Rail Road.

643

as there has been no other product, or little
other than gold in California, and as the po-
pulation has been almost exclusively males,
we have only to take the estimated population
of each year, to ascertain what should have
been the actual produce of labor per diem for
each individual. For the first year it was es-
timated that there were in all more than 20,000
souls, which at one dollar per diem for 300
days, would amount to $6,000,000. The se-
cond year the population has been estimated
over 120,000, which at one dollar per diem as
above for 300 days would amount to $36,000,
000 for both years $42,000,000 reduce the per
diem to fifty cents and it will then probably
exceed the amount of gold produced.

The principle wants of such a population
will always be food, with but a comparative-
ly small amount of clothing, and their supply
must ultimately come from the Pacific slope
itself, their teas from China, their coflTee, su-
gar, &c. from Japan, Java, and the Pacific Is-
lands ; so that to the Atlantic slope as well as
to Europe, their gold must be an import to be
purchased in competition with all the world,
and limited in amount to the few articles of
clothing which their wants and the necessities
of a tariff system, in the benefits of which they
cannot participate, compels them to take from
us. The commerce and intercourse therefore
between the two slopes, must, in the end, be
very limited, and more particularly so, be-
cause the Atlantic slope has no surplus popu-
lation to dispose of, and labor generally, will
be far more productive, comfortable and pros-
perous here than there. The emigrants to
Oregon and California, therefore, must in the
long run go directly from Europe and China,
and those from Europe to save expenses would
go round the Cape.

The geographical position of Oregon and
California, with the sources of production both
on the sea and land, opens a field of enterprise
which cannot fail almost immediately to draw
ofTan immense amount of the surplus popula-
tion of both Europe and China, and it will not
be long before all the branches of industry, in
the produce of the soil, in manufactures, in
commerce, and in the fisheries, to the supply
of almost all their wants, will be chiefly oc-
cupied by their own population — can England
or the Atlantic slope be benefitted by this ?
And to what extent I

A very important branch of the industry of
the eastern slope has been devoted to the
whale fishing in the Pacific, and its products
have been counted as domestic, amounting to
an annual return of over $8,000,000. This
must soon cease to be a product of the eastern
slope, because the fisherman will transfer his
residence to Oregon or California, and will
there build and fit out his small vessel, and
make several cruises in a year, the fruits of

his labor will be expended where produced,
and if the Atlantic slope or Europe purchase
his oil, as they must, it would be the same to
both, an import and not a domestic product,
and as it could not bear the cost of tranship-
ment and transit across the Isthmus, it would
still go around the Cape. Another and im-
mense source of production for the future po-
pulation of the Pacific slope will be a codfish-
ery, extending from Oregon to Tartary, 5000
miles, which could employ millions of men ;
but their market would be Japan, China, and
all Asia, and not the Atlantic slope and
Europe.

The present commerce of the United States
with all Asia, amounts annually to about $9,
840,000 of Imports, and $3,400,000 of Exports
of which latter $580,000 are foreign products
leaving an actual balance against the United
States of about $7,000,000 to be paid through
England. Though this trade may be profit-
able to individuals, it is not so to the nation.
Now, if the Atlantic Ocean were open by a
Strait between North and South America to
the Pacific, a vessel bound from New York to
China, Avould take that route, because the
trade winds would carry a vessel in almost a
direct line from Panama or Tehuantepec. to
the Ladrone Islands, near to China, and the
distance would be about 13,138 miles, but the
homeward voyage would always be made as
as it now is, by the Cape of Good Hope, and
though the distance as performed by Captain
Waterman in the Sea Witch in 75 days, is
14,255 miles, still the always favorable trade
winds would make this the shortest voyage
home ; besides it is on the homward voyage
that the merchant is most interested in saving
time. His ship goes out to Asia nearly empty,
and waits till November or December, and
then returns laden with a rich and valuable
cargo. It is therefore the homeward voyage
that must sustain the expenses of the ship
both out and home.

Were there a rail road or canal across the
Isthmus, the saving in distance and time on
the voyage out would not compensate for the
expenses of transhipment, and transit from
Ocean to Ocean. A steamer bound from the
Isthmus to China, by running up the coast to
San Francisco to the Bonin Islands, and via
Japan, might lessen the distance about one
thousand miles ; that would be the best route
fora steamer but could not be taken by a sail
vessel on account of trade winds. The distance
for a steamer from the Isthmus to China would
be three times that from Liverpool to Boston ;
or from New York to China, it would be about
equal to four times across the Atlantic, and
with all the depots, possible to be established
on the route, the whole capacity of the steam-
er, would be required for her necessary fuel
and stores, with no room left for freight. And

644

Whitneifs Pacific Rail Road.

[June,

if we estimate freight at a price corresponding
with what is charged by the Steamers on
common dry goods from Liverpool or London
to Boston or New York, say £l per ton mea-
surement, it would amount from China to
New York, not including transhipment and
transit across the Isthmus to £28 sterling or
$140 per ton measurement, or :$280 for one ton
weight of Young Hyson, or $350 per ton for
other Teas, costing on ship-load in China an
average of 35 cents per pound or $700 for a
ton weight of 2000 pounds. Is it not there-
fore perfectly clear, that the trade of the Uni-
ted States with China, could not be changed
to this route, even if the Isthmus were swept
away.

The commerce of all Europe with all Asia
amounts to an annual aggregate exports and
imports of $250,000,000.

It is this commerce which controls the
world. The change of its route has changed
the destinies of Empires and States. It can
have but one more change, and that must be
across this continent. When that change
shall have been effectual, commerce and civili-
zation will have encircled the globe. But
that great change cannot be made, as is urged,
across the Isthmus. Any common school boy
can demonstrate this ; let him take a globe,
(not a flat map,) place the end of a string at
Canton, bring it up through the Chinese Sea,
through Sunda Straits, into the Indian Ocean ;
then draw the string tight over the globe to
the Cape of Good Hope ; thence via St. Hele-
na, and, inside of the Cape de Verd Islands,
up to England, and it will be seen that the
string upon the globe has reached almost
exactly the route of a vessel sailing from Can-
ton to England, and always with a fair wind,
the distance being 13,330 miles. Take the
same string, and place the end at the same
point arrived at in England, bring it over to
Panama, and thence, as the trade winds would
force a vessel's course, south of the Sandwich
Islands to Ladrones, and it will be seen that
the string does not reach near to China, the
Avhole distance from England being 15,558
miles, or 2,228 miles greater than the voyage
by the Cape of Good Hope. From Singapore
and Calcutta the distance against the Isthmus
route would be still greater; comment is here
unnecessary.

Could the commerce of Europe with Asia
be carried on in steamers, it will be seen that
the present route is shorter from 2,000 to
3,500 miles than by the Isthmus ; with far
greater facilities for depots for fuel, &c. The
Cape de Verd Islands, St. Helena, the Cape of
Good Hope, Madagascar, the Isle of Bourbon,
Christmas Island, and others, are directly on
the route ; and from the Cape of Good Hope
to Australia, the Island of St. Paul's is mid-
way on that direct route.

Neither the history of colonization, nor that of
our Western settlements, presents a parallel to
the position of Oregon and California, as the}''
are connected with the Eastern slope of the
United States. Old nations with a surplus
population have planted colonies; the colo-
nists have been restricted to trade with the
mother country, each being a forced market
for the products of the other. The object of
such a system is to provide for a destitute and
useless population, and to chain them to the
throne, and, at the same time, make them pro-
ducers of food and staples, to be exchanged
for manufactured goods, and thereby better
the condition of those remaining at home.
But such a relation, and such a result, can
never obtain between the Atlantic and Pacific
slopes of the United States, because, after a
little, the two sides will produce the same ar-
ticles : and, moreover, because the exchanges
with Europe will be made by the Atlantic, and
not by the Pacific side.

And, although the mines and fisheries may
attract, and are likely for a short time to at-
tract labor, so as to prevent the production of
a sufficient amount of food for the Pacific
slope, that deficiency could not be supplied
through or across the Isthmus, owing to cli-
mate, and the necessarily heavy expenses of
transit would force the production of more
than a necessary supply in Oregon in a short
time. Is it not, therefore, evident, that the
Atlantic and Pacific slopes must be separate
and distinct in all their interests, that they can
have but little intercourse and but small
amount of exchanges, and that they must re-
main in all respects precisely to each other as
are the people of the United States in relation
to Russia or any other foreign nation 1 But,
could the route for the commerce and inter-
course of Europe with Asia be turned to
across this continent, then the Atlantic and
Pacific sides would be made depots for it. as
also depots for the products of the Mississippi
basin on the one side, for the markets of Eu-
rope, and on the other side, for the markets of
Asia. Then all these parts of the world, be-
ing the great parts, almost the whole world
would be bound together by ties of mutual
interest. The surplus population of Europe
would fill up the great basin of North America,
and produce food and staples to exchange with
those who remain in Europe. And the surplus
population of Asia, China particularly, would
be removed to the Islands in the Pacific and
Indian Oceans, and their products would be
exchanged with both Europe and the United
States. This would equalize, harmonize, civil-
ize, christianize, and make comfortable the
scores, even hundreds of millions in all those
quarters, who are now destitute, miserable,
and a large portion perishing with want. To
accomplish all this, the route must be located

1850.]

Whitney's Pacific Rail Road.

645

so far north, that the sphere of the globe will
sufficiently shorten the distance — and the work
must be constructed from a plan of means,
which will secure an adequate reduction in the
cost of transport. The route must pass through
a wilderness, with as great an extent as possi-
ble of agricultural country, to be brought into
settlement and production. The work itself
to be the cheap means of transit from and to
the great markets of the world.

A change of route for commerce can benefit
no interests, particularly, unless the saving of
time and of cost of transport be sufficient to in-
crease the consumption of the articles which
constitute that commerce : Or unless it opens to
settlement and production a new country,
which before had been inaccessible and use-
less.

Now we will suppose that the commerce
which is carried on around the Cape of Good
Hope could be changed by a canal or railway
across by Suez. It would certainly shorten
the distance very much ; but what interest
would be benefitted by it ? or would commer-
cial exchanges be increased %

Though time and distance would be lessen-
ed, still the expenses of transhipment and
transit, the dangers of navigation, and damage
by climate, would be such that no material re-
duction in the cost of transit would be effected,

and the condition of the surplus population of
both Europe and Asia would remain precisely
the same, inasmuch as no means would be cre-
ated to enable one to consume more of the pro-
ducts of the other.

These are the questions which should be
considered by both the statesman and the mer-
chant. It is the position of the surplus popula-
tion of Europe, with the^heavy tax imposed on
labor to meet the interest on the enormous
debts of the European nations, and other
burdens, together with the surplus population
of Eastern Asia, particularly China, that must
occupy the minds of the statesman and phil-
anthrophist of all the world, and especially of
Europe and America — and the construction of
a new highway for the commerce and inter-
course of Europe with Asia, must be a basis
on which to found a system to provide for, and
make useful to all mankind, the European and
Asiatic surpluses of population.

This is a subject in which the whole world,
and particularly England and the United States,
is interested. If, gentlemen, you can give this
a place in your valuable journal, I shall feel
myself greatly indebted and honored, as I am
already for your favorable notice of my pro-
ject.— Most respectfully, your obedient ser-
vant,

Asa Whitney.

Note. — For a tolerably full account of Mr. Whitney' s i>lan of operations for the construction of a
rail road to connect the Atlantic with the Pacific coast, see article in the namher of this Journal for
July, 1849.

646

Congressional Summary.

[June,

CONGRESSIONAL SUMMARY.

The Senate having under consideration the
resolutions of Mr. Bell, of Tennessee, and the
motion of Mr. Foote to refer them to a select
committee of thirteen,

Mr. Baldwin spoke as follows : He had
listened to the discussions in the Senate on
these subjects with deep interest. He had
seen in their tone much to admire, much to re-
gret, and it had been his endeavor to preserve
his own mind from any undue excitement or
bias, so as to be governed alone by the spirit
of the Constitution in any leg-islative act he
might be called upon to take a part. That
sacred instrument dealt in no sectional lan-
guage. The voices of the whole American
people spoke there harmoniously. It was
adopted, in a spirit of liberality to conflicting
interests and sentiments ; tolerating, no doubt,
some institutions then thought temporary, and
some compromises now regretted. But they
are there ; and he could speak with authority,
in the name of the people of his own State,
that they were prepared to abide by the letter
and the spirit of these compromises,
f Such, Sir, said Mr. Baldwin, are the in-
structions of the State of Connecticut, passed
by a nearly unanimous vote of both Houses
of the Legislature. But they have also in-
structed their Senators and requested their re-
presentatives in Congress, to oppose in all
constitutional ways, every measure of com-
promise which shall yield any portion of free
territory to the encroachments of slavery, or
by which the people of the United States shall
be made responsible for its continuance. He
did not believe in the principle of instructions,
but these instructions fully concorded with
his own judgment, and he should readily and
gladly conform to them.

The resolutions now before the Senate, and
the proposition to refer them to a committee of
compromise, did not meet with his approba-
tion. The question of California, in his opin-
ion, should be connected with no other ques-
tion whatever. The people of the State are
here claiming a right ; a right guarantied by
treaty. The question of that right should then
be judged and disposed of by itself, biased by

no motives but that of justice. These propo-
sitions also assumed an antagonism in the in-
terests of the North and the South, which was
unwarranted by fact, unsound in principle, and
unconstitutional if carried into legislation.
The Constitution knew no North or South or
East or West ; it proceeded from the people of
the United States, and it was to their collec-
tive interests that as legislators they were
called upon to attend. This body should ac-
knowledge no antagonism, no divided inter-
ests ; they should know of only one constitu-
ency, and that was the whole of their common
country.

He did not sustain the admission of Cali-
fornia from any supposed advantage to the
people of his own portion of the country. He
saw no such advantage. He saw no way in
which the introduction of her Senators and
Representatives in Congress could conduce
more to the promotion of the interests of his
constituents than to the interests of any other
section. It was on the score of justice to the
people of California that he advocated her ad-
mission. At the time of the cession of these ter-
ritories, we pledged ourselves to protect and
maintain the inhabitants in the free enjoyment
of their liberty and property, and the full ex-
ercise of their civil rights. This pledge we
have failed to keep. It is true, the old Mexi-
can and departmental laws continued in force,
but these laws were notoriously insufficient in
the altered circumstances of the country, to
shield them from disorganization and private
wrong. " Had California continued as it was,
composed of a few sparse settlements, the laws
in force at the time of the cession would have
been ample for their protection. Their inter-
ests were small ; their transactions with each
other were comparatively few; their tempta-
tions to crime were slight ; but under our au-
thority, by our invitation, a vast influx of
population from all parts of the world have
migrated to California. Ships from Europe
and Asia and Western America, as well as
from our own coast have entered their magni-
ficent harbors, richly laden with the products
of every climate. Mines of gold of unsur-

1850.

Congressional Summary.

647

passed richness have allured adventurers of
every description, and given a new impulse to
labor in all the departments of industry. Tov>^ns
and cities have arisen among them, as by ma-
gic ; thousands of people are clustered together
from different nations, of di.-similar habits, dif-
fering in their usages, and the systems of law
to which they had been accustomed in the
places from which they migrated — difiering
not merely from those of the Mexican inhabi-
tants but of each other. We all know that,
in a remote country like that thus newly settled
by those who are strangers to each other, who
come with habits thus dissimilar, the ordinary
restraints of society, which stand in the place
of law in older countries, have but a feeble
hold upon the population. What, then, was
the necessary result '? That liberty and pro-
perty were in a great measure unprotected.
Crimes were committed, and there were no
adequate tribunals to try and punish the of-
fender. Contracts were made and broken, and
there were none to administer justice. Rights
of property were violated with impunity. Who
was responsible for all this % The old Mexi-
can laws, the old departmental officers, were
entirely inadequate to the purposes for which
Government was now needed. What, then,
should be done '? They appealed to Congress.
Congress representing the supreme power of
this Government, to whose dominion they had
been transferred by Mexico, refused to inter-
fere— refused to aid them with a system of
laws adequate to the circumstances in which
they were placed. Even the writ of habeas
corpus and the right of trial by jury were vain-
ly attempted in this body, at the last session,
to be conferred upon this distant people. Mex-
ico had relinquished her dominion to a power
that refused to exercise it efficiently for their
protection. The greater portion of the people
were our own citizens, our own kindred, our
sons."

Driven thus by necessity, they have framed
laws and a Constitution for themselves, and it
is not for us to cavil at any irregularities in
their formation, irregularities forced upon
them by ourselves, but to inquire in good faith
whether the casus fcederis has arisen, whe-
ther the time has come for her admission
as a State. If we cannot deny that these re-
quisites are fulfilled, what right have we to
allow sectional feelings and questions to be
mixed up with and delay her admission 1

These resolutions, the Senator continued,
propose that Congress shall renew the assent
given by the joint resolution of 1845, for the
formation of three or four new slave States
out of the present territory of Texas, and as-
sert that the faith of the Government isalread}^
pledged for their admission. If this be so,
no act of ours can strengthen or impair that
obligation. Whether it be so or not, it surely

is a question which this Congress is not com-
petent to solve. Assuming it to be the true
construction of the Constitution, as in his
judgment it was, that foreign territories can
be annexed by the treaty-making power alone,
it would follow that the joint resolution for the
annexation of Texas was simply void. If so,
it was the acquiescence of the people of the
United Slates in the Union of Texas, and not
the joint resolution, that placed her on the
footing of the other States of the Union. Tex-
as of course knew, when negotiating for ad-
mission, the rights she should thereby acquire,
and the obligations she should come under.
She had perfect knowledge of the Constitution
of the United States. He might, therefore,
when this question comes practically before
Congress, feel unwilling to admit the binding
force of this pledge. He was not now called
upon to decide, but he protested against its
being sent to a committee of compromise along
with other subjects which he might feel bound
to sustain, and thus give rise to an imputation
of bad faith.

Moreover, this is a question v»'hich no State
but Texas has a right to raise; and, hitherto,
she has manifested no desire to take it into
consideration. He thought that Congress
should address itself to those duties of legis-
lation which called for action, avoiding dis-
cus.sion productive only of agitation.

With regard to the questions connected with
this subject, said Mr. Baldwin, the only con-
stitutional and proper mode of treating them,
is to act upon them as they arise. The ques-
tion of the extension of slavery over free ter-
ritory admitted no compromise. It involves
a deep-seated principle. Slavery was not a
natural law. It could exist only by positive
enactment, and the majority of the people of
the United States, he was satisfied, were averse
to assuming the responsibility of any legisla-
tion that might lead to its extension.

But it is said that slavery being purely a
domestic institution of the States, the Govern-
ment of the United States has no concern with
it. This he admitted so far as slavery in the
States was concerned. But he denied that
Congress had no right to legislate on this sub-
ject in the territories. Congress must act in
the government of the territories precisely as
a State Legislature acts within its own limits.
The Government and the Territories belonged
to the people of the United States, and not to
the several States. The treaty-making pow-
er negotiates for the nation — not as the agent
of the States. The territory is acquired for
the Union. The constiiuencies of the nation
are the people, not the States.

With regard to the subject of fugitives from
the Southern States, Mr. Baldwin contended
that the salety of the class of colored citizens
of the Northern States, demanded that ques-

648

Congressional Summary,

[June^

tions of the kind should be heard and decided
by the permanent judicial tribunals of the
Government, that the colored freemen of the
North are entitled to all the privileges and im-
munities of citizens of the several States to
which they have occasion to go. He thought
that all that was needed upon the subject of
fu2;itive slaves, was to amend the existing act
of Congress, so as to confine the exercise of
the powers conferred to the judges of courts
of the United States, and to secure to those
who allege themselves to be free, the advan-
tage of an impartial jury to aid the courts in
the ascertainment of facts.

Respecting the other alleged grievances, the
burden of the complaint seems to be the pe-
tition for the abolition of the slave-trade and
slavery in the District of Columbia and where-
ever tlie jurisdiction of Congress extends. But
is this any interference with the rights of any
State '? Is it any real grievance, if these pe-
titioners confine their request to the action of
Congress, where Congress has the entire and
exclusive power of legislation "? Senators may
not be willing to grant these petitions, but
have they any right to say that they or their
constituents are aggrieved by their present-
ment T

" In conclusion," said Mr. Baldwin, " I
will only say— and I say it with great defer-
ence to the opinions of others — that there is,
in my opinion, but one course to be pursued
to calm the agitations that now surround us,
and prevent their recurrence. It is to place
ourselves firmly on the platform of the Con-
stitution, adhering faithfully to its compro-
mises, and administering, in the spirit which
animated our fathers, and in the light of their
admonitions and example, the powers confided
to us by the people. No compromises of
principle are required for our security. No
sectional concessions should be asked, or ex-
pectations encouraged; but even-handed jus-
tice secured to all. Pursuing such a course, I
fear no danger to the Union. Its foundations
are too deeply laid in the interests and affec-
tions of the people, and in their cherished re-
collections of the past, to be easily disturbed.
It is emphatically their government; and its
powers, though wisely and carefully limited,
are amply sufficient, if beneficently directed,
o lead us to a higher degree of national glory
and happiness than has fallen to the lot of any
other people." April 17.

The same subject being before the Senate,
and the pending question thereon being Mr.
Benton's instructions to the Committee, to the
effect that Congress has no power over slave-
ry in the States, nor the slave-trade between
the States, and that Congress ought not to
abolish Slavery in the District of Columbia,
nor in the forts, arsenals, and navy-yards
of the United States, Mr. Clay moved to

amend this proposition so that it should
read,

" Provided, that the Senate does not deem it
necessary to express in advance any opinion, or to
give any instructions either general or specific, for
the guidance of the Committee."

Mr. Benton said, in reply, that the propo-
sition to which this amendment was offered,
was in fact.only an amendment to his original
proposition, and which he had accepted in a
spirit of compromise, and at the suggestion of
Mr. Clay. As the Senator from Kentucky
now wished to recede from it, he would with-
draw it altogether.

The proposition being thus withdrawn, Mr.
Clay's amendment fell with it.

Mr. Benton then moved his original pro-
position, providing that the Committee shall
not take into consideration the question of
slavery in the States, the internal slave-trade,
slavery in the District of Columbia, and in the
forts, arsenals, and navy-yards of the United
States.

Mr. Clay again moved his former amend-
ment, namely, that the Senate does not deem
it necessary to express in advance any opin-
ion, or to give any instructions, either general
or specific, for the guidance of this Commit-
tee.

Mr. Benton objected that this was not an
amendment, but in direct conflict with his own
proposition, and consequently unparliamen-
tary. He regretted the obstacles thrown in
the way of the admission of California. In
fact, he saw nothing but long delay and immi-
nent danger to that bill, in proceeding any far-
ther with this motion to refer to a committee.
We have no need of this committee, he said.
We have the bill already, brief and explicit.
He therefore moved; before the pending amend-
ment is gone into, to lay the subject of raising
a committee on the table, for the purpose of
taking up the bill for the admission of the
State of California.

Mr. Clay, in reply, said, that no one wished
for the speedy admi.ssion of California more
than himself, and with due deference to the
Senator from Missouri, he suggested that the
chief obstacle was the course taken by Mr.
Benton. Let this opposition to the appoint-
ment of a committee cease ; let the committee
be raised, and then, if necessary, let the bill
for the admission of California be reported
and acted upon in the Senate. In that case,
he had already intimated, he .should propose
as an amendment to the bill, provisions to give
territorial governments to the two new Terri-
tories without the Wilmot Proviso. He
thought the bill faulty. The brevity that the
Senator from Missouri so recommended, would
result in losing for the United States, the
public doman of California.

1850.]

Congressional Sumynary.

649

The question being taken on Mr. Benton's
motion to lay on the table, it was negatived
by yeas 24, nays 28, as follows:

Yeas — Baldwin, Benton, Bradbury, Chase,
Clarke, Corwin, Davis of Mass, Daj'toii, Dodge of
Iowa, Dodge of Wis Douglass, Fetch, Green,
Hale, Hamlin, Jones, Miller, Norris, Phelps, Sew-
ard, Shields, Smith, Walker, Webster— 24.

Nays — Atchison, Badger, Bell, Borland, Bright,
Butler, Cass, Clay, Clemens, Davis of Miss, Dick-
inson, Downs, Foote, Hunter, King, Mangum,
Mason, Morton, Pearce, Rusk, Sebastian, Soule,
Spruance, Sturgeon, Tumey, Underwood, Whit-
comb, Yulee, 28.

Mr. Benton, then commented on Mr. Clay's
amendment. It asked the Senate, he said, to
cut itself off from all its parlimentary rights of
offering amendments to bills and resolutions
while going through that body. The attempt
is impotent. We have a right to offer instruc-
tions after instructions, and if the Senate -will
not adopt them, its only way is to reject them
when presented; to vote them down. This
right of offering instructions he meant to ex-
ercise to its full extent.

In reply, Mr. Clay said, that there was no-
thing extraordinary in giving a subject to a
committee without instructions. It happened
every day ; two or three times a day. When
a joint committee was appointed in the in-
stance of the Missouri compromise, no instruc-
tions were given ; they were left free as air,
to devise the best mode of settling that unhap-
py question. Senators had a right beyond
doubt, to instruct if they wished, or to leave
the committee without restraint. This resolu-
tion will be adopted ; and who was it, he
asked, that wished to check the free exercise
of their rights by the Senate 1 Why those
who by their amendments, against the em-
phatic expressions of opinion by the majority
of that body, would produce embarrassment
and delay. I have framed this resolution de-
liberately, said Mr. Clay, and for the express
purpose of getting rid of the unnecessary in-
structions which the Senator from Missouri
has proposed, and to dispose of any other in-
structions which his ingenuity, and no man
possesses a greater amount of it than he does,
might suggest to be brought before this body.
Let my amendment be adopted, and let the
Senator offer his other instructions from one
to ninety-nine, if he pleases, and we shall see
if the question of order will not silence them
all.

Mr. Webster cared little how this matter
of a committee should be decided. He felt no
interest in it, for he thought no great benefit
would result from it. But the motion of the
Senator from Kentucky he considered irregu-
lar. It is in direct reversal of the standing
rule of the Senate that " the proposition under

consideration may he amended."' If this were
a bill, could it contain a proposition that it
should not be subject to amendment ? or could
it be moved in amendment to it, that this bill
should be carried through the Senate without
any proposition to amend 1

Mr. Clay rejoined that here was a proposi-
tion to refer certain subjects to a committee.
The Senator from Missouri proposed certain
amendments to that proposition. They had a
right to vote these amendments down one by
one. His own proposition went little farther
than that.

At the suggestion of Mr. Mangum, Mr.
Clay modified his amendment by inserting
after the word " necessary," the words " and
therefore declines."

The question being then taken, the amend-
ment was adopted. Yeas 25, nays 22, as fol-
lows :

Yeas — Atchison, Badger, Borland, Butler, Cass,
Clay, Clemens, Davis (Miss,) Dickinson, Dodge
(Iowa), Douglass, Downs, Foote, Hunter, .Tones,
King, Mangum, Mason, Morton, Pearce, Rusk,
Sebastian, Soule, Spruance, Sturgeon, Turney,
Underwood, Yulee.

Nays. — Baldwin, Benton, Bradbury, Bright,
Chase, Clark, Corwin, Davis (]Mass), Dayton,
Dodge (Wis), Felch, Greene, Hale, Hamlin, Mil-
ler, Norris, Phelps, Seward, Shields, Smith, Wal-
ker, Whitecombe.

April 18.

]\Ir. Benton moved that the Senate proceed
to the consideration of the California bill.

Mr. Clay moved to lay the motion on the
table, which was agreed to — Yeas 27, Nays

24, as follows :

Yeas — Messrs Atchison, Badger, Bell, Borland,
Bright, Butler, Cass, Clemens, Davis of Miss.,
Dickinson, Downs, Foote, Hunter, King, Mangum,
Mason, Morton, Pearce, Rusk, Sebastian, Soule,
Sturgeon, Turnev, Underwood, Whitecomb and
Yulee.

Nay's — Messrs Baldwin, Benton, Chase, Clark,
Corwin, Davis of Mass., Dayton, Dodge of Iowa,
Dodge of Wis, Douglas, Felch, Greene, Hale,
Hamlin, .Tones, Miller, Morris, Phelps, Seward,
Shields, Smith, Spruance, Walker and Webster.

The question was then taken upon JNlr.
Benton's amendment instructing the commit-
tee not to connect California with any other
measure. The amendment was rejected. Yeas

25, Nays 28.

The question was then taken seriatim, up-
on the thirteen propositions of Mr. Benton,
all of which were rejected. It was then taken
upon a proposition by JMr. Hamlin, excepting
the admission of California from the reference.
This also was rejected. Mr. Walker moved
to except from reference to the Committee, the
subject of the arrest of fugitive slaves. This
proposition was rejected.

The final question was then taken upon the
motion to refer the resolution of ^Messrs Clat

650

Congressional Summary.

[June,

and Bkll to a select committee of thirteen, and
adopted. Yeas 30, Nays 22, as follows :

Yeas — Atchison, IBadger, Bell, Borland, Bright
Butler. Cass, Clay, Clemens, Davis (Miss) Dickin-
son, Dodge (oi Iowa), Downs, Foote, Hunter,
Jones, King, Mangum, Mason, Morton, Pearce,
Rusk, Sebastian, Soule, Spruance, Sturgeon, Tur-
ner, Underwood, Whitcowh, Yulee.

Nays — Baldwin, Benton, Bradbury, Chase,
Clarke, Corwin, Davis (Mass) Dayton, Dodge
(Wis), Douglass, Felch, Greene, Hale, Hamlin,
Miller, Norris, Phelps, Seward, Shields, Smith,
Walker, Webster.

The following day the Senate proceeded to
ballot for the Chairman of the Select Com-
mittee upon the Compromise resolutions of
Mr. Bell and Mr. Clay. On the first ballot
Mr. Clay had 28 votes, Bell 1, Benton 1,
Mangum 1, blank 4.

So Mr. Clay was declared elected.
Messrs Cass, Dickinson, Bright, Webster,
Phelps, Cooper, King, Mason, Downs, Man-
gum, Bell, and Berrien were, on the next bal-
lot elected, the remaining members of the Com-
mittee without opposition.

From this Committee, May 8, Mr. Clay
presented the following report.

From the thorough discussion which these
subjects have received in the Senate and
throughout the country, the Committee deem
it unnecessary to give the motives and views
which have determined their conclusions on
these questions.They would restrict themselves
to a few general observations and reflections.
Their object in this report was to adjust all
the differences arising from our late territorial
acquisitions, in connection with the institution
of slavery. They wished to leave nothing
behind to rankle in the public mind.

The first subject that presented itself to
their attention was the Texas controversy.
The resolution of Congress annexing Texas to
the United States, provides that additional
States, not exceeding four in number, may,
by consent of Texas, be formed out of her ter-
ritory, and that such of these States as shall
lie south of 36° 30' north latitude, commonly
known as the Missouri compromise line, shall
be admitted, with or without slavery, as they
shall severally choose.

The Committee are unanimously of opinion
that the compact with Texas contained in
this resolution is clear and absolute. It has been
urged that it was unconslilutional. But it was
also declared at the time of the treaty of Loui-
siana, that the annexation of that province
was unconstitutional, and who would now
think of opposing the admission of the new
States constantly forming within its ancient
limits ? In grave national transactions, differ-
ences may exist in their earlier stages ; but
when once consummated, prudence and safety
demand acquiescence in the decision. The
Committee consequently think that the terms

of annexation should be complied with. They
do not, however, consider that the formation
of these new States should originate with Con-
gress. In conformity with usage, the initia-
tive should be taken, with the consent of Tex-
as, by the people of her territory. When they
present themselves for admission, and have
decided upon the the purely municipal ques-
tion of slavery within their own limits. Con-
gress is bound to accept that decision.

With regard to the question of the admis-
sion of California, a majority of the Commit-
tee are of opinion that all irregularities in her
application should be overlooked, in consider-
ation of the omission of Congress to provide
a proper territorial Government, and the con-
sequent necessity of framing one for herself.
The sole condition required by the Constitu-
tion of the United States in respect to the ad-
mission of a new State, is that its Consti-
tution should be republican in form. That of
California is such. Neither can there be ob-
jection on the score of population, which is
even greater than has heretofore been deemed
sufficient for the admission of new States.
With respect]to her boundaries, the Committee
regret the want of accurate geographical
knowledge ; but extensive as her limits are,
they appear to embrace no very disproportion-
ate quantity of land adapted for cultivation.
It is known that they contain extensive ranges
of mountains, deserts of sand, and much un-
productive soil. The front assigned on the
Pacific might have been more limited,
but it is not certain that to States formed by
thus curtailing her sea-board, a sufficient ex-
tent of accessible interior could have been
given. Should the necessity arise, from the in-
crease of her population and a more thorough
exploration of her territory, to form a new
State out of Califoriiia, they believe from past
experience that such a measure would meet
with no obstacles.

A majority of the Committee, therefore, re-
commend to the Senate the passage of the bill
reported by the Committee on Territories for
the admission of California, as a State, into
the Union. They would advise also the
adoption of the amendment to the bill, secur-
ing to the United Stales the public domain, and
other public property, in California.

Whilst a majority of the Committee believe it
to be necessary and proper, under actual circum-
stances, to admit California, they think it quite
as necessary and proper to establish govern-
ments for the residue of the territory derived from
Mexico, and to bring it within the pale of the fe-
deral authority. The remoteness of that territory
from the seat of the general Government ; the
dispersed state of its population ; the variety of
races — pure and mixed— of which it consists;
the ignorance of some of the races of our laws,
language, and habits; their exposure to the

1850.]

Congrcssmial Summary.

651

inroads and wars of savage tribes ; and the
solemn stipulations of the treaty by which we
acquired dominion over them, impose upon
the United States the imperative obligation of
extending to them protection, and of providing
for them government and laws suited to their
condition. Congress will fail in the perform-
ance of a high duty, if it does not give, or at-
tempt to give, to them the benefit of such pro-
tection, government, and laws. They are not
now, and, for a long time to come, may not
be, prepared for State government. The ter-
ritorial form, for the present, is best suited to
their condition. A bill has been reported by
the Committee on Territories, dividing all the
territory acquired from Mexico, not compre-
hended within the limits of California, into
two territories, under the names of New
Mexico and Utah, and proposing for each a
territorial government.

The Committee recommend to the Senate the
establishment of those territorial goverments ;
and, in order more certainly to secure that de-
sirable object, they also recommend that the
hill for their establishment be incorporated in
the bill for the admission of California, and
that, united together, they both be passed.

Exception has been taken to what is called
the incongruity of the combination of these
two measures in the same bill. A majority of
this Committee see nothing incongruous in this
combination, but are aware of many conside-
rations that mark it with a peculiar propriety.
The object of these measures is, respectively,
the establishment of a government for the new
State, and the new Territories. Originally
provinces of one mother country, they were
ceded to the United States by the .'^ame treaty.
The same article in that treaty guaranteed
them protection and good government.
Conterminous in some of their boundaries,
alike in their physical condition, they present,
with the exception of the rapid increase of
population in California, a common attitude
towards the rest of the Union.

But it is objected, this combination forces
members to the alternative of voting for what
they disapprove, or of rejecting a measure of
which they approve. To this it may be an-
swered, that there are also many who reject
California alone, but would willingly admit
her in conjunction with the territorial bill.
This objection shows that the real ground of
opposition to the combination lies in the favor
or disfavor in which each measure is held,
and not in any want of affinity between them.

In these conflicting opinions and interests,
a majority of the Committee think that the
true spirit of legislation demands mutual con-
cession. Few laws are ever passed in which
there is not something given up for the sake
of the greater good that is gained.. Especial-
ly in a confederacy like ours should this spi-

VOL. V. NO. VI. NEW SERIES.

rit prevail. It Avas founded on mutual con-
cession, and by mutual concession alone can
it be preserved. The territorial bill, in itself,
is marked by this species of compensation.
It omits the Wilmot Proviso, that fruitful
source of agitation ; while, on the other hand,
it makes no provision for the introduction of
slavery. This Proviso, so productive of dis-
cord, experience has shown to be practically
unnecessary for the accomplishment of its
professed objects. California, in which the
introduction of slavery was most feared, has,
by the unanimous action of her own conven-
tion, expressly prohibited that institution, and
there is every reason to believe that Utah and
New Mexico, on their admission as States,
will follow the example.

Neither is there any aggrievement to Cali-
fornia in thus coupling the question of her ad-
mission with other subjects, for her best digni-
ty should be found in her power to restore tran-
quillity to the great family of her sister States.

The next subject on which the Committee
report is that of the Northern and Western
boundary of Texas. A majority of the Com-
mittee recommend that the boundary of Texas
be recognized to the Rio Grande, and up that
river to the point commonly called El Paso,
and running thence up that river twenty
miles, measured thereon by a straight line,
and tnence eastwardly, to a point where the
hundredth degree of west longitude crosses
Red River ; being the southward angle in the
line designated between the United States and
Mexico, and the same angle in the line of the
territory set apart for the Indians by the
United States. In addition to this concession
by the United States, it is proposed that
Texas receive for her relinquishment of what-
ever claims she may have to any part of New

Mexico, the pecuniary equivalent of •

millions of dollars, to be paid in a stock to
be created, bearing five per cent interest annu-
ally, payable half yearly, at the treasury of
the United States, and the principal reimburs-
able at the end of fourteen years. It is esti-
mated that the territory to which Texas will
thus relinquish her claims, and which em-
braces that part of New Mexico lying east of
the Rio Grande, includes a little less than
124,933 square miles, and about 79,957,120
acres of land. From the sale of this land the
United States may be reimbursed a portion, if
not the whole of the amount thus advanced
to Texas.

A majority of the Committee recommend
that the proposals to Texas be incorporated
in the bill embi^^cing the admission of Cali-
fornia, as a State, and the establishment of
territorial governments for Utah and New
Mexico. By the union of these three mea-
sures, they hope that every question of diffi-
culty arising from the acquisition of territory

652

Congressional Summary.

[June,

from Mexico will be placed in a train of sa-
tisfactory adjustment.

The Committee next report on the subject of
fugitives from labor. The Constitution expli-
citly declares that no person, held to service
in one State, under the laws thereof , shall, by
escaping into another, be discharged, in con-
sequence of any law, or regulation, therein,
from such service, but shall be delivered up on
the claim of the party to whom such service
is due. This clause, so plain and obligatory,
is addressed alike to the States composing the
Union, and to the General Government. Its
enforcement is the duty of both. At present,
it is notorious that the attempt to recapture a
slave is attended by great personal hazard.
Perilous collisions constantly ensue. The
law of 1793 has been found wholly ineffectu-
al in prevention of this state of things, and
the Committee recommend more stringent
enactments. The proceedings for the reco-
very of the fugitive should be summary.
Trial by jury has been required for them in
the non-slaveholding States ; but, were this
granted, it would draw after it its usual con-
sequences of delay and increased expense,
and, under the name of a popular and che-
rished institution, there would be a complete
mockery of justice, so far as the owner of the
slave is concerned. A trial by jury, how-
ever, would be less objectionable in the State
claiming the fugitive. Accordingly, the Com-
mittee recommend that the claimant be placed
under bond, and be required to return the
fugitive to that county in the State from which
he fled, and there to take him before a compe-
tent tribunal, giving him all facilities for esta-
T)lishing his freedom.

The Committee hope that, in this way, all
■causes of irritation, consequent on the reco-
very of fugitives, will be removed. Should,
however, these measures, in their practical
operation, prove insufficient, they consider
that the owners of such slaves will have a
ju.st title to indemnity out of the Treasury of
the United States.

The Committee finally report on the ques-
tions of slavery, and the slave-trade, in
the District of Columbia. Without discussing
the power of Congress to abolish slavery
within the District, they are of opinion that its
abolition is inexpedient. The apprehension
and uneasiness it would excite in the slave
States, the constant decrease of the slave po-
pulation in this District, and the probability
that this concession would lead to farther de-
mands, stamps such a measure as unneces-
sary and unwise.

But a majority of the Committee think dif-
ferently, with regard to the slave-trade with-
in the District. This trade is as revolting to
the feelings of slaveholder!?, as to those from
the Northern States. Most, if not all, of the

slaveholding States have prohibited a trade in
slaves, as merchandize, within their own li-
mits; and Congress, standing in regard to the
people of this Districtin the same position that
the State Legislatures do to the people of the
States, may safely follow the example. The
Committee recommend that this traffic be abo-
lished.

The views and recommendations contained
in this report may be recapitulated in a few
words :

1. The admission of any new State, or
States, formed out of Texas, to be postponed
until they shall hereafter present themselves
to be received i.ito the Union, when it will be
the duty of Congress, fairly and faithfully, to
execute the compact with Texas, by admit-
ting such new State, or States.

2. The admission, forthwith, of California
into the Union, with the boundaries she has
proposed.

3. The establishment of territorial govern-
ments, without the Wilmot Proviso^ for New
Mexico and Utah, embracing all the territory
recently acquired by the United States from
Mexico, not contained in the boundaries of
California.

4. The combination of these two last-men-
tioned measures in the same bill.

5. The establishment of the western and
northern boundary of Texas, and the exclu-
sion from her jurisdiction of all New Mexico,
with the grant to Texas of a pecuniary equi-
valent. And the section for that purpose to
be incorporated in the bill, admitting Califor-
nia, and establishing territorial governments
for Utah and New Mexico.

6. More effectual enactments of law to se-
cure the prompt delivery of persons bound to
service, or labor, in one Slate, under the laws
thereof, who escape into another State.

And 7. Abstaining from abolishing slavery;
but, under a heavy penalty, prohibiting the
slave trade in the District of Columbia.

May 13.

The Senate having under consideration the
bill to admit California, as a State, into the
Union, to establish territorial governments for
Utah and Mexico, and for making proposals
to Texas for the establishment of her Western
and Northern boundaries, Mr. Clay spoke as
follows :

He wished to give some explanation con-
cerning the report of the Committee of Thir-
teen. When that report was presented to the
Senate, various members stated that it did not
meet, in all its parts, with their concurrence.

This was true. No one member of the Com-
mittee concurred in all that was done, or omit-
ted to be done by the Committee. But these
differences were no source of discouragement
to him. In the jiassage of the measure through
this branch of Congress, there was room

1850.]

Congressional Nummary.

653

for its modification. But even if it should not
be so modified, lie felt confident that there
would finally be a unanimous concurrence of
the Committee in its favor, and a large majori-
ty in the Senate.

The first measure on which they reported,
was that concerning the compact between the
United States and Texas, on the occasion of
the admission of that State into the Union. —
Here there was an undivided opinion. Two
Senators made the reservation that they should
not consider themselves bound in every condi-
tion of things, to vote for the admission of
those States thus carved out of Texas, but uni-
ted heartily in this as the true exposition of
the compact.

The question of the admission of California,
continued Mr. Clay, was the one that gave the
most difficulty to the Committee. It was in-
sisted that, if admitted at all, it should be with
one representative ; that there was no suffi-
cient evidence that her population entitled her
to more. But accurate testimony could hardly
be demanded in this case. Neither did usage
call for the strict fulfilment of the law. Nei-
ther Georgia nor Texas, on their admission, had
a population proportioned to the number of
their representatives, but it was known that
the rapid influx of emigration would shortly
remove the difficulty, and the irregularity was
overlooked.

There seems an error existing, said Mr. Clay,
with regard to the requisite population to en-
title California to two representatives. It is
not double the amount fixed for one represen-
tative. That number was fixed by Congress,
ten years since, at 70,680 ; but it was express-
ly provided that any State, which had an ex-
cess beyond a moiety of that amount, should
be entitled to an additional representative. —
The Senator then showed from the memorial
of the deputation from California to the United
States, that her population was 107,069, on
the first of January, 1850. This exceeds the
requisite number, and he had no doubt, from
the statements of officials at San Francisco, she
had, at the present moment, full 135,256 inha-
bitants.

With regard to the limits of California, a
proposition was first offered in the Committee
to extend a line through to the Pacific of 36°
30 ; a subsequent proposition altered this line
to 35*' 30, but a majority of the Committee
finally decided upon having no dividing line.
This proposition was made with the view of
reserving a slave State out of the Territory.
But with the non-slaveholding State of Cali-
fornia on the North, the mountains of Mexico
on one side and the Pacific on the other, sla-
very surel)'^ would never be introduced — or if
introduced, could never be maintained.

But California, it is said, is too extensive ;
her seaboard is 600 or 700 miles in length ; it

is unreasonably large. But of this coast, the
part below 36° 30 is bordered by deserts of
sand, back of which are successive chains of
mountains, forcing the population to the east-
ward, to have intercourse exclusively with
Mexico and the Atlantic States. While in the
Northern part of California is a vast desert,
hitherto never passed, and reaching from the
country of the INIormons to the Pacific. I think
then, said Mr. Ci.ay, that with respect to the
population of California, with respect to her
limits, and the circumstances under which she
presents herself to Congress, every thing is
favorable to the grant she solicits, and that we
can find neither in the one nor the other a suf-
ficient motive to reject or throw her back into
the state of lawless confusion and disorder
from which she has emerged.

All these considerations, the Committee con-
sider, apply with equal force to the two Ter-
ritories of Utah and New Mexico. The plan
of the Executive, recommending the admission
of California, but leaving the other two ques-
tions unsettled, was originated at a time when
it was thought that to create governments for
the Territories would be productive of the
greatest distractions and agitation. Since then
the extremes of public opinion have moderated.
The North and the South have come to the
rescue of the Union. Measures that then were
dangerous, would now meet with general ap-
probation. He contended that to abandon Utah
and New Mexico, to leave them without the
authority of the General Government, without
power to protect their own citizens, or the citi-
zens in transitu to other regions, to d this in
the face of the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo,
was in conflict with the high claims of duty.
At this moment, said Mr. Clay, disorders are
commencing, from the backwardness of the
Government in establishing the boundaries of
Texas. Commissioners have been sent by that
State to Santa Fe or New Mexico, for the pur-
pose of bringing them under her authority.
From the temper of the people of that pro-
vince, he had no doubt these demands would
be resisted, and civil commotions and shedding
of blood might yet be the consequence.

With regard to the amount to be paid Texas
for her relinquishment of her claims, to pre-
vent improper speculation in the stock market,
the Committee had thought it best to wait until
the final disposition of the bill, before naming
the sum they had concluded to recommend.

Mr. Clay then alluded to Mr. Benton's par-
liamentary objections to the combination of
these three measures. He showed that the
process of tacking one bill to another, to which
the Senator from Mis.souri had objected, was
not the same in principle in the English Par-
liament as in Congress. Bills originating in
the House of Commons were not subject to
amendment by the House of Lords, as in our

654

Congressional Summary,

[June,

Senate; but if received at all, were to be
passed entire. It was the means of forcing
popular measures on the crown and aristocra-
cy. The practice was consequently decried in
the messages of the crown, and by all writers
under the influence of the aristocracy. It was
looked upon fa^^orably enough by the popular
party. But in consequence of the power of
amendment by the Senate, the technical ob-
jections to it are in no ways applicable to the
present compromise bill. The practice in this
country has been to associate bills of the most
diverse natures. The constitution of Califor-
nia, providing that no two subjects should be
united in one bill, has been held up to us as
example. The constitution of Louisiana has
the same enactment, and experience shows the
greatest inconvenience resulting.

The question of African slavery has been
left open to the action of the people, when the
Territory arrives at the dignity of a State.
The Territorial government, by the plan of the
Committee, has been debarred from all legis-
lation on that subject. The Indian or peon
servitude however is left open to their action.
At present, he said, by the Mexican law and
in point of fact, slavery did not exist in that
province ; and he thought there was little pro-
bability of its entering a country where labor
can be obtained at the rate of three or four
dollars a month.

The next subject the Committee reported on,
Avas the re-capture of fugitive slaves. The
Committee here proposed two amendments to
the bill reported by the Senator from Virginia,
(Mr. Mason). The lirst provides that the
owner of the fugitive shall, whenever practi-
cable, carry from his own State to that whither
the fugitive has fled, a certificate of the Court,
adjudicating the fact of slavery, the fact of
elopement, and a general description of the
slave. This record shall be in the Free State
competent and sufficient evidence of the fact.
The inconvenience will be very slight, and the
reverence in which records are everywhere
held will be great additional security. The
next provision is, that the owner, on the de-
tection of the fugitive, shall give bond to
take him back to the county of the State
whence he escaped, and at the first Court there
held after hi.s return, shall afford him all
the facilities necessary for the establishment
of his right to freedom, if he still conti-
nues to assert his right. A trial by jury is
deirianded by the non-slaveholding States, and
this the amendment provides for. The prac-
tical operation of this will be, that where, if
the trial by jury were allowed in the free
State, the fugitive would use every endeavor,
and find great facilities for escaping from jus-
tice, now that this trial is to be conducted
among his old comrades, and where he is well
known, he will leel more inclined to relinquish

his pretensions to freedom. Mr. Clay thought
that the South should make this concession.
Their rights were to be maintained, but main-
tained in a manner not to wound unnecessarily
the feelings of others.

The Senator then alluded to the opinion
prevalent in some of the non-slaveholding
States, that there is a higher and Divine law,
entitling the runaway to food, shelter, and
hospitality from the man under whose roof he
has come. Divine law has often been the
pretext for outrages on society. Divine law is
the plea of the Mahometan for his polygamy.
The wretch, dying from famine, can, with far
greater plausibility, point to his neighbor's
abundance, and plead natural and Divine law
for satisfying therefrom his wants. Let them
point out, said Mr. Clay, the credentials of
their revelation.

Finally, the Committee have reported on the
abolition of the slave-trade in the District of
Columbia. He believed there was no time
within the last forty years, when, if it had
been earnestly pressed upon Congress, there
would not have been found a majority — a ma-
jority from the Southern States — in favor of it.

Mr. Clay then alluded to the Wilmot Pro-
viso. This is an abstraction pressed upon the
South by the North, and urged, they say, by
a natural sentiment in behalf of freedom.
The South reject it, not from fear of the ob-
jects of the Proviso, for these objects will be
accomplished without its aid, but in a sense
that their security lies in denying at the very
threshold any right in the North to touch the
subject of slavery. The North contend for an
empty form, the South for the preservation of
property, of life, of happiness. They know
that to yield to this demand, will be the signal
for new sects springing up, with new notions
and new natural laws, who will carry their
notions into the bosom of the slaveholding
States.

At a meeting of the Southern Members of
Congress, held May 8th, a Committee was ap-
pointed to take into consideration the subject
of a newspaper to be established at Washing-
ton, and to be devoted to Southern interests
and institutions The Committee, in their re-
poit, call the attention of the South to the
necessity for an organ which shall uphold their
peculiar institutions, and, at the same time, be
held distinct from the ordinary party ties and
influences. They assert that the public opin-
ion of the world has been directed against
these institutions, and that now these attacks
must be met on their own ground. The South
has hitherto relied on the conscious justice of
their position, but the time has come when
they must wrestle with this public sentiment,
or fall. This warfare, incited by interest or
prejudice, commenced, the Committee state,

1850.]

Congressional Summary.

655

with Great Britain. That country, after hav-
ing been the cause of the establishment of
slavery in the New World, has labored cease-
lessly at its destruction. A common origin,
a common language, and a common literature,
have rendered her efforts on this continent par-
tially successful. Its abolition in her own
dependencies has brought on premature decay,
and from the influence of this spirit, have pro-
ceeded the distractions within our own borders.
To combat these pernicious and fanatical doc-
trines, to enter the lists against the world, to
defend Southern rights and Southern feelings,
to meet a sentiment founded on visionary
theories and prejudice, by the experience and
judgment of those from position better inform-
ed, the Committee urge the establishment of
this paper. At the seat of government, they
Bay, there is no paper which makes these in-
terests their paramount object. The abolition
party can always be heard through their press
there, while the other journals make the main-
tenance of party their controlling object : and
not one to consider the preservation of sixteen
hundred millions of property, the equality and
liberty of fourteen or fifteen States, the protec-
tion of the white man against African equality,
as even equal to the political organization to
secure the election of President. In the Federal
Legislature, the South has some voice and some
votes, but the press in this city takes its tone
from that of the North. They give, in turn,
a coloring to that of the South, and false im-
pressions are consequently produced through-
out that section, concerning 'public men and
measures.

This journal is to be sustained by Southern
means and talent, and to be dedicated to the

defence of their social position before the
world. Sou thern| Whigs and Southern Demo-
crats are to contribute alike in its columns.
Party relations are not to be disturbed, but to
be held subordinate to the great and engrossing
interest, to the South, of slavery.

On April 30, the joint resolution from the
House, respecting the expedition in search of
Sir John Franklin, being before the Senate, it
was finally adopted, by a vote of 28 to 16.
The resolution was as follows:

Fesolved, by the Senate and House of Repre-
sentatives of the United States, in Congress as-
sembled, That the President be, and he is hereby
authorized and directed to receive from Henry
Grinnell, of the city of New York, the two ves-
sels prepared by him for an expedition in search of
Sir John Franklin and his companions, and to de-
tail from the navy such commissioned and warrant
officers, and so many seamen as may be necessary
for said expedition, and who may be willing to en-
gage therein. The said officers and men shall be
famished with suitable rations, at the direction of
the President, for a period not exceeding three
years, and shall have the use of such necessary
instruments as are now on hand and can be spared
from the navy, to be accounted for and returned by
the officers who shall receive the same.

Resolved further^ That the said vessels, officers
and men shall be in all respects under the laws and
regulations of the navy of the United States until
their return, when the said vessels shall be deliver-
ed to the said Henry Grinnell : Provided, That
the United States shall not be liable to any claim
for compensation in case of the loss, damage or
deterioration of the said vessels, or either of them,
from any cause, or in any manner whatever, nor
be liable to any demand for the use or risk of the
said vessels, or either of them.

656

Miscellany.

[June,

ISCELLANY

GERMANY.

The politics of central Europe remain in-
volved in the greatest intricacy. Austria,
Bavaria, Wirtemberg, and Saxony, with a
German population of about 17,000,000, form
a confederacy with a bias to the old order of
things, and are laboring to restore the German
Diet, of which Austria was the head. Hano-
ver, Holstein, Luxemburg and Frankfort, and
two or three minor powers, with a German
population of about 3,000,000, are neutral ;
while Prussia, with the remainder of the Ger-
man States, and a German population of
22,500,000, form the Parliament of Erfurt, and
represent the cause of progress. This body
consists of an Upper House of 95 members, of
whom Prussia sends 40, and a Lower House
of 224 members, of whom she sends 158.

Prussia, then, may be considered as the
leader of the liberal movement in Europe, and
great destinies might be before her, if the
spirit of her people were not clogged by the
indecision and luktwarmness of the Court.
She might become the regenerator of the worn-
out systems of the old world, a great republi-
can monarchy, spreading free principles,slowly
but surely. She would form the bulwark of
civilization against the ominous advances of
Russia. But the caution of the German char-
acter, their dread of change, the ambition of
particular States, wishing- each to aggrandize
itself in this chaos of political elements, the
evident hankering of the reigning families for
a return of their old despotisms, and the di-
plomacy and gold of Russia entering every
crevice, weakening, dividing, threatening, and
we are compelled to form gloomier anticipa-
tions. We are reminded of the fears that
oppressed society, when the star of Bonaparte
was in thesascendant. An oriental despotism
seemed then impending over Europe, with its
sure consequences of a return to barbarism
and national decay. The danger passed, for
the "pear was not ripe." The power that
then menaced civilization was the artificial
strength of disease; its real danger now lies
in the young and healthy vigor of barbarism.

The attitude of Russia becomes daily more
menacing. Her demands are now more impe-
rious than ever. At this moment an insur-
rection is raging in the Turkish province of

Bosnia, stirred up by Russian wire-working,
while her armies in the Danubian principali-
ties are retained in full strength. The Greek
Government is completely under her influence,
and Austria is little else than a subject; and,
in the north of central Euiope, not a move-
ment is made in which the hand of Russia is
not seen or felt.

The causes that urge her forward in her
career of conquest, are the same that impel us
on this side of the Atlantic in our more pacific
progress. As a consequence of the growth of
population in new countries, the centres of
commerce are constantly shifting. Those na-
tions, into whose hands, from geographical or
political advantages, the sceptre of trade pass-
es, feel the impulse in an increased demand for
labor and capital, while those it has left have
of course a plethora of both. -National energy
is the aggregate of individual energy, and in-
dividual energy can only be called out by a
field for exertion, and proper inducements.
These, in new countries, are intense, and pro-
duce the best statesmen, the best generals, the
best mechanics, the best laborers, and the best
soldiers. Man for man, they are more than a
match for nations where decay has produced
lethargy. Who can beat a Russian in diplo-
macy ? Who can out-general a Yankee in a
bargain, — a sort of dung-hill diplomacy?
Nelson's advice to his officers was significant,
" When you meet a French frigate, lay her
aboard ; when you meet a Russian, out-man-
ceuvre him, if you can."

Full occupation for the minds, the muscles,
and the teeth of all classes, is the true source
of a people's prosperity, of individual happi-
ness, and the only safe foundation for repub-
licanism. It is not hazarding too much to say
that France, like the South of Europe, is past
its zenith. Spain is far on the downward
path ; Italy is querelous with age ; Greece is
a paralytic old man ; Egypt is galvanized for
a moment into the semblance of life, and the
Orient is dust and ashes. The republican
movements that fill so many minds with hope,
may be but the beginning of the end, and
young Europe may yet find a rough step-par-
ent in " Father Russia." For, from this quar-
ter, when the pear is ripe, a hand will be put
forth to pluck it. Exhausted by mutual

1850.]

Miscellamj.

657

hostility or political convulsion, at some mo-
ment Germany may lie at the mercy of the
invader. Then out leaps the savage of the
Don ; Tartar and Hun come swarming from
their wilds, and, in groans and desolation, Eu-
rope tastes the lot she awarded to Poland.
With its territory almost a continent in extent,
its steadfast polic)', its succession of vigorous
rulers, its people uniting the science and energy
of a growing civilization, with the enthusiasm
of barbarism, Russia may readily become the
incubus to brood into barrenness the plains of
the eastern hemisphere. Not a Calmuck in
shaggy beard and sheepskin, but believes that
this is to be their mission. The Cossack looks
for the time when he shall rein his horse on
the shores of the Atlantic, and again bivouac
on the heights around Paris.

We are blinded to these possibil'ties by the
power and high civilization of middle Europe.
Mere refinement is a poor defence against bar-
barian valor. The Turkish Tartar, when he
stepped from Asia to Europe, found power
and refinement, as well as luxury and license.
The torpor of his iron gr'asp may have been
a happy exchange for anarchy. When the
social fr-ame of a nation is worn out, when
men are pushed helplessly by wretchedness
into crime, or led into it as surely by the in-
fluences of vitiated societ)', then it should be
and must be near its fall, and the hug of the
Russian bear would be a milder fate than the
lengthened miseries of inanition.

But Germany, we hope, has a happier fate
before her than this. The intelligence of the
people fits her for self-government. Their
characteristic patience and stability would
never run freedom into license, and should
Prussia succeed in her efforts at forming a
powerful and close confederacy, bringing to
one centre the intense national spirit of the
German race, it may be the dawning of a new
day for Europe.

FRANCE.

The Paris elections have gone in favor of
the Socialists. Eugene Sue, the Socialist can-
didate, received 128,071 votes, and M. Leclerc,
the nominee of the government party, received
119,626, giving the former a majority of 8,445.
The vote of the army was also Socialist by a
large majority. This marked success on the
part of the Red Republicans has excited much
consternation in the capital. The distrust in
the character of the President, as not the man
to carry the country through the jiresent crisis,
the violent though feeble measures of the gov-
ernment, their capricious attempts at restraint
of the press, incurring the odium without the
advantage to themselves of the reality, have
no doubt contributed to those gloomy results.
In the character of the two candidates, the
government would seem to have had a slight
advantage; for Sue,leading the life of a, Syba-

rite in his retreat in the country, denying himself
no indulgence that refined sensuality could sug-
gest, was a Socialist in nothing but his morali-
ty, while Leclerc was a staunch Republican,
and had taken a part in the insurrection of
June, 1848, on which occasion he had dis-
played the greatest heroism.

The alarm felt at this state of things in Paris,
shows the influence that city has over the
whole of France. It is France. French
nationality must always have a focus, a visi-
ble and tangible centre where the national
glory and self-laudation can shine with con-
centrated brilliancy. Centralization has al-
ways been the stumbling block for freedom in
France. The federal element is wanting in
their constitution, for no constitution can long
contain what is wanting in the character of the
citizen. This centrifugal foixe, which is
found in the United States, in their origin from
a number of colonies, and wide extent of
country, creating sectional interests and con-
sequently sectional feelings : which is found in
England in individual self-reliance and in the
stubborn battling of each class for its rights and
immunities — contests that have been going on
for centuries — and which Germany sees over-
developed in its scores of principalities, is in
France utterly deficient.

A proposition has lately been made to re-
move the seat of Government from Paris.
But even if the members could force them-
selves to foi"ego the pleasures and intrigues of
the capital, Paris would be no less the metrop-
olis and ruler of France. She is such, by
virtue of the character of the French people,
and not by act of any Legislative body.

War. — The following statistics were col-
lected by a committee of the Legislature of
this State. They present little of the pride,
pomp and circumstance of glorious war.

"The New York regiment consisted of 805
men ; of these the committee report :
Died in Mexico, or were killed in battle, 227
Discharged from disabilities, wounds, &c., 226
Missing and deserted, 35

Died since their return, 56

Known to be living, 106

Leaving wholly unaccounted for, 155

Total, 805

Of those discharged in Mexico as above

stated, in number 226, very few have been

heai'd of. It is supposed that most of thera

died, being sick when dischai-ged.

Of those known to be living, numbering
106, nearly all are broken down by disease,
hardships, or wounds received in the cam-
paign, and are unable to support themselves.

Of the 155 of whom we can learn nothing,
we suppose the most have died, and many,
doubtless, gone away^ it maybe, to California.

658

Miscellany.

[June,

We have discovered 18 widovrs, who are
all in a destitute condition, and about 20
children likewise situated. The case of Lieut.
BoyJe, of company C, is peculiarly touching.
Soon after he left for the seat of war, his af-
flicted wife, broken-hearted, died, leaving five
children. At the close of the war, Lieuten-
ant Boyle returned, bereaved of his wife, and
broken down in constitution. In a short time
he died, leaving- four children. Two of them
are now in the orphan asylum, and two are
now in New York.

Many and distressing have been the in-
stances of suffering which have come under
our knowledge among those who have reach-
ed their native land. Two have died, as we
learn from correct authority, from actual star-
vation. Numbers have died in the hospital
and alms-house, and, until quite recently, the
misery of the relics of the first regiment of
the New York volunteers has been compara-
tively unnoticed. We are glad to know, how-
ever, that lately a temporary fund, affording
partial relief, has been established."

There is a great unwritten history of every
war. When the last drum has beat, and the
last cannon been fired, and national vanity
rests content with its victims, then begins this
silent struggle. Orphans and broken hearts
are its conscripts. Its triumphal music is the
wail of the nation over its dead. Never per-
haps were these consequences so terrible as
among our volunteers. From every town and
village and neighborhood throughout the coun-
try, the volunteer system called away the
flower of its youth. Lads, full of decision and
courage, the stock to make men of, needing
only years to become leaders among the people,
sought their "destiny" on the plains of Mexico.
They found it in the vomito, the bullet and the
fever. The campaigner needs the power of
endurance which mature age only can give,
and its unsusceptibility to disease. We have
the testimony of Napoleon, that while the
young soldier could be led to the charge where
older men would recoil, he still served mostly
to crowd the hospitals and encumber the line
of march. This experience was fatally sus-
tained in the Mexican war. The great loss of
life by which some of our victories were gained,
was even less than the silent though constant
loss from disease and exposure. But the car-
nage of the battle-field, or the lonely grave by
the way-side, were the least of these horrors,
for all men must bow at the feet of death. The
watchful, anxious homes, looking in vain for
those that left them, years since, in gladness;
the old men, their gray hairs brought with sor-
row to the grave, and the accursed lot of the
orphan telling the tale twenty years hence,
form a mournful sequel to this mournful page-
ant. The few that return, wounded, broken
in constitution, tainted, many of them, with

the vices of camps, find that their country)
though at first intolerably vain of their glory,
have begun to look at it more philosophically,
and are by no means willing to pay a high
price for so unsubstantial a commodity. Such
details as the above may recall them to a feel-
ing of humanity for the victims of a success-
ful war.

Threatened Difficulties betweenFrance
AND England. — Dijdomacy between France
and England has, of late, been managed in
such a way as to breed ill blood between the
two countries. "London," says the European
Times, "was yesterday in a state of feverish
excitement. It was known on Thursday that
the French ambassador, M. Drouyn del'Huys,
had left the British metropolis for Paris, on a
day of all others when the courtesies of diplo-
macy were most strictly observed — namely,
the anniversary of the Queen's birthday; and
it was also known by the papers of the follow-
ing morning, that the Russian ambassador was
absent from the dinner party which Lord Pal-
merston gave to the ambas.*adors in honor of
the event. These two circumstances combin-
ed, produced in political circles some uneasi-
ness, in consequence of the turn which it was
feared the Greek dispute had taken. Expla-
nations in both houses of Parliament were
accordingly sought for, and given by Lord
Landsdowne in the Lords, and Lord Palmers-
ton in the Commons. The former described
the recall of the French ambassador as 'an
event of importance,' but he subsequently de-
nied that it was of 'grave importance,' and
intimated that the French government required
his presence in the National Assembly, to give
such explanation as the case required. Lord
Palmerston, judging from the few sentences
which fell from him, seems to have treated the
affair less seriously. ^ I trust,' said the noble
Viscount, ' that nothing- can arise out of these
circumstances likely to disturb the friendly re-
lations between England and France.'

The Times of yesterday, which evinces the
same fondness for the Foreign Secretary that
a nameless personage is said to do for holy
water, showed in a leading article that matters
were far more alarmingly entangled than the
'explanations' of the previous night would
induce the public to suppose. It is needless
to inquire from whom the Times derives its
information, but evident that the Foreign office
is infested with traitors ; and it seems to us
most discreditable that a paper which wears
the ministerial livery, and is literally in all
other respects, the organ of the ministry,
should, in its anxiety to stab a member of that
ministry, who is obnoxious in its eyes, carry
its personal vindictiveness to an extent which
is really calculated to embarrass the relations
between the two countries. The funds, which

1850.]

Miscellany.

659

are always the test of public feeling on these
Occasions, exj)erienced a decided shock. Con-
suls, which stood the previous evening at
96 1-8, immediately declined 3-4 per cent., but
they subsequently rallied, and cjo^-ed at 9j to
95 1-8.

The explanation which Lord John Russell
gave last night, in the House of Commons,
does not throw much light on the matter, but,
as far as it goes, it exhibits the soreness
which the French government feels at what is
evidently regarded as our cavalier treatment of
its representative, the Baron de Gros, at • th-
ens. Lord John stated that this would have
been full)- and satisfactorily cleared up, if the
the Baron had remained at Athens three days
longer. It is also clear, from the admission,
somewhat reluctantly from the prime minister,
that if Lord Palmerston had not in his posses-
sion at the time he gave his explanation the
previous evening the letter from the French
Secretary for Foreign Affairs, recalling M.
Drouyn de THuys from London to Paris, and
assigning as a reason the insult put upon the
French government arising out of the Greek
dispute, that the letter of recall had been
nevertheless read to him.

It would be too much to say that the expla-
nation of Lord Palmerston the previous night
was disingenuous, for official explanations of
the kind are often very enigmatical ; but, cer-
tainly, the cool and composed manner in which
he treated the subject, showed either that he
thought the afTair would ' blow over,' or that
his own nerves were not easily shaken. An
accomplished diplomatist requires the boldness
of the lion and the cunning of the fox. Has
Lord Palmerston both, or only one of these
qualities %

The worst feature of this ugly business re-
lates to the proceedings in the National As-
sembly on Thursday, where the announcement
by the Foreign Secretary, that he had recalled
M. Brouyn de I'Huys, because of the insult
England had put upon France, produced the
greatest possible excitement and delight, fol-
lowed by cries of " bravo !" and the clapping
of hands, and other demonstrations which
showed how palatable the act was to the Na-
tional Assembly. In this unseemly manifesta-
tion, the leading men of all parties in the As-
sembly are said to have joined. It is difficult
to say, in the present position of Louis Na-
poleon, what part his necessities may compel
him to act. The question will be speedily
and amicably settled if the vindication of
French honor be his object. But if ulterior
ends are to be attempted, a quarrel arising out
of circumstances in themselves trivial, may
lead to results which are fearful to contemp-
late. We await the issue with hope, and
without fear.
The advices received from Paris, announce

not only the recall of M. Drouyn de I'Huys,
the French Ambassador to this Government,
but his actual arrival in Paris. Lord Nor-
mandy, our Ambassador at the French Court,
has not left that city. It will be seen by Gen-
eral La Hitte's statement, that a charge d'af-
faires has been left in charge of the embassy
in London, precisely as it was before the ar-
rival of ]\I. Brouyn de I'Huys. The tone of
the Marquis of Lansdowne and Lord Palmers-
ton, last night, did not warrant any alarm
about the result. But that the sensibility of
the French is deeply wounded, there is no
doubt ; and in the present critical state of
Paris, and all France, it would be rash to pre-
dict that very grave results may not ensue.

It is very probable that the Greek question
is made use of as a pretext for diverting the
attention of the French people from the polit-
ical questions which at present engross the at-
tention of the Legislature, in the hope that an
anticipated quarrel with England may gain
favor for the French government with the
troops and the people. This conjecture is
strengthened by the fact that the announce-
ment of the recall of the ambassador from
London was received by the Conservatives in
the French Assembly with frantic applause,
whilst the members of the Left remained silent.

The following explanation was given in the
Assembly on the 10th ult : —

The order of the day was the interpellations
of M. Piscatory on the ali'airs of Greece.

General De La Hitte, minister of Foreign
Affairs, ascended the Tribune and said — Gen-
tlemen, in the sitting of Saturday last I had
the honor of announcing to the Assembly,
that, in consequence of the failure of our
good officers in the negotiation pursued at
Athens, the government of the republic had
considered it its duty to apply to the English
government for explanations. The reply
which was given us not being such as we had
a right to look for, considericg the good intel-
ligence which existed between the two coun-
tries, the President of the Republic, after hav-
ing taken the advice of his council, gave me
orders to recall from London our ambassador.
(A loud burst of cheering from the Right,
clapj)ing of hands, cries of " bravo, bravo ;"
renewed cheers, and clapping of hands from
the same quarter. The Left all this time re-
mained silent. The approbation continued at
least five minutes.) In order to make the As-
sembly aware of the motives which actuated
the government to come to this decision, I can-
not do better than read to you the letter which I
addressed M. Brouyn de I'Huys on this subject.

TO M. DROUYN DE L'hUTS, FRENCH AMBASSA-
DOR AT LONDON.

Paris, May 14, 1850.
Monsieur : — As I had the honor of an-

660

Miscellany.

[June,

nouncing to you yesterday, the council has
deliberated on the reply of the cabinet of Lon-
don, which you had been directed to transmit
to us. My preceding despatches must have
caused you to anticipate the decision of the
government of the republic. France, in a spi-
rit of kindness and peace, had decided to in-
terpose her good offices, for the purpose of
terminating, on honorable conditions, the dif-
ference which had arisen between Great Bri-
tain and Greece. It had been agreed that the
coercive measures already employed by Eng-
land should be suspended during the course of
the mediation, and that if an arangement,
deemed fit to be accepted by the French me-
diator, should be refused by the British medi-
ator, the latter should refer the matter to Lon-
don, before again having recourse to force.
We had received, on this latter point, the most
formal promises, which, however, have not
been observed. This deplorable consequence
has resulted therefrom, that at the moment
when a convention, negociated directly, and
definitely agreed to between the cabinets of
Paris and London, was on the point of arriv-
ing at Athens, where already the essential ba-
sis of it were known, Greece, attacked afresh
by the naval forces of Great Britain, in spite
of the energetic representations made by the
French envoy, was obliged to accept, without
discussion, the clauses of an ultimatum infi-
nitely more rigorous {bien autrement rigour-
eiises.) On learning the strange result of our
mediation, we desire I to see in it only the ef-
fect of a misunderstanding.

We had hoped that the cabinet of London,
like us, considering as of no effect {non ave-
nus) the facts so much to be regretted by
every one, and which had taken place only in
consequence of the violation of an engage-
ment entered into with us, would maintain the
convention which had been agreed to. You
had been charged to apply to it to do so ; and

that demand not having been acceded to, it
has appeared to us that the prolongation of
your sojourn is no longer compatible with the
dignity of the republic.

The President has ordered me to direct you
to return to France, after having accredited
M. MareschaJchi as Charge d'Affaires. He
has also directed me to ex]iress to you all the
satisfaction which the government of the re-
public feel at the zeal, ability, spirit of conci-
liation, and firmness united, which you have
always shown in the course of a negotiation,
the non-success of which was not your fault.

You will be pleased to communicate to Lord
Palmerston the present dispatch.

(Signed) LA HITTE.

(Loud cheers again burst out here as be-
fore.) Gentlemen (continued the Minister),
I have laid on the table the documents con-
nected with this negotiation. You will per-
ceive, I am inclined to think, on perusing this
voluminous collection, that the acts and inten-
tion of the government of the republic are not
undeserving of your approbation. (Cheers.)
I have to propose to you to order that the do-
cuments be piinted.

The Assembly, being consulted, ordered the
printing of the documents almost unanimous-
ly. Gen. Cavaignac, M. Gustave de Beau-
mont, and two or three other members of the
tieis parti, stood up on the negative side of
the vote.

When the Minister descended from the tri-
bune, he was surrounded and complimented
by a crowd of representatives, amongst whom
were MM. Thiers, Admiral Dupetit-Thouars,
General Changarnier, &c.

The sitting was then suspended for half an
hour, amidst the utm,ost agitation; the mem-
bers of the Right, assembling in the centre,
discussing the communication made, whilst
the Left remained impassive as before.

4^;

,'H .^ ■.

1850.

Critical Notices.

661

CRITICAL NOTICES

Ireland as I saw it, the character, condition, and
prospects of the People : By Wm. S. Balch :
New York: G. P. Putnam, 1850.

The writer of the above titled book informs us
in his introductory epistle, that he " travelled
neither as philosopher, sage, or poet, but simply as
a plain republican, curious to see, and anxious to
learn." That is a good beginning. The set-out
smacks of modesty, and, therefore, presents to a
common sense reader, a pathway not usually found
'laid down' in the ' guide books' and ' books oi
travel,' of the pseudo philosophic voyageurs, di-
dactic city seers, feminine journal compilers or
sonneteering mountain climbers of the present day.
When we take up a book of travels, we do not ask
the writer of it to lay down a new code of laws
for the people he is talking about. We want a
truthful delineation — a faithful record of what he
sees ; the ^eo;;Ze, their state, condition, and char-
acter; the cities, their situation, commerce, &c.
The towns, their markets ; the land, its agricul-
ture, mines, and resources ; the motintains and
rivers, their scenery and power. With these set
before a reader truthfully, he will be able to judge
of the actual state and government of the land,
and needs no speculative instruction to guide him
to a just judgment of its faults, failures, misery,
•weakness, strength, past folly or future prospects.
We want facts. Facts are suggestive. Falsehood,
though favorable at best only dazzles at first, and
ends in confounding.

Apart from the natural beauty of Ireland, it did
not present a very interesting field for an Ameri-
can traveller, after a wasting famine for the im-
mediate years previous and the distracted state of
the country about the time of Mr. Balche's tour.
He went " without prejudice" and saw " more to
approve in the character of the people than he ex-
pected," at the same time he laments their condi-
tion and justly condemns the working of the aris-
tocratic institutions. " There are those in Eng-
land" says our author, " who would tear the whole
carcass in pieces at once and destroy it for ever ;
making the Emerald Isle a province, into which
they might introduce colonies of their own wretch-
ed population. Such men seriously desire an oc-
casion to justify a general onslaught and final ex-
tinction of the Irish nation, and talk seriously about
it. But Heaven has reserved this country for some
other end ; if not for freedom and honor, to be, as
at present, the manufactory of a race which is

spreading itself, like the old Teutons, among al! t
nations of the earth, for some purpose which
shall hereafter be made manifest."

We trust that Ireland's manifestation shall be
that of Freedom and Glory. Nationality can
be crushed out of Ireland no more than it will be
made extinct in Hungary or France, or Rome, or
the Afl^ghan land. For upholding that nationality
and preaching the creed of Freedom, chief after,
chief may glut the scaffold or pine in prison den?-;-.'
chief after chief may fall — the martyrdom of Free-
dom's priesthood may be waged with Inquisitorial
horrors, but Truth will prevail. The natural
spring will force itself erect and pure through every
obstacle. Despotism may smile graciously and
affect ease but never can sleep without its armor:
Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime ;

And as the heroes of our day have received
their inspiration from the Tells, Washingtons,
and Emmetts of the by-gone, so shall the example
and glory of the men of our era light some suc-
ceeding Kossuth, Mitchel, or Chere Singli, to the
deliverance of their land. Hate to Tyranny can-
not die out. The teachings of the " Young Ire-
land" will not be easily forgotten. In fact, its ef-
fect has had scarcely time to make itself manifest.
Its oratory, enthusiasm and poetry cannot but fulfil
its mission on a mind so susceptible, warm, and
enthusiastic as the Irish. Mr. Balch and his tra-
velling companions were in Dublin during the ex-
citing movements in '48. The following reminis-
cence is interesting because it can be depended on.
The author is in the court-yard of the castle " a
sort of military palace, on a grand scale." He says :

" While gazing about, a young soldier came up
to us, and commenced a conversation. Finding
we were from America, he expressed himself very
freely. He had not been long in the service, and
was not well pleased with it, but necessity had
compelled him to adopt the course to obtain a liv-
ing. He asked us what we had heard of Mitch-
el's trial, and what was the prospect of acquittal.
We told him we had heard nothing in particular,
only there was much excitement in the streets.
He said he hoped he would get clear, for he believ-
ed him an honest man, and a true lover of his
country. We proceeded gradually, and finally
asked him what he should do if there should be a
rising of the people. He said, after some hesita-
tion, he supposed he must fight. I did not presa

662

Crit'cal Notices.

[June,

the inquiry farther, for I saw, by his appearance,
what his answers would be ; that his heart was
for his country, which he loved, and, though com-
pelled to it, he would reluctantly contend with his
countrymen, and, therefore, he expressed an earn-
est hope that there would be no disturbance.
He said the whole garrison was kept constantly in
readiness for any emergency ; that every part of
the castle was crowded with soldiers, and hun-
dreds were quartered in private dwellings. Ob-
seiTing some one who appeared to be listenmg to
our conversation, he turned and left us."

Their hills and their bogs, their oppressors and
their misries, have taught them to be free. Many
distinguished men in America are from Ireland.
Her patriotic sons have served in the battles of
' most of the armies of the civilized world, and
have distinguished themselves by the most heroic
valor. The field of Waterloo, the height of Que-
bec, the Badajos, the walls of Toulouse and Sa-
lamanca, and more recently Monterey, Cerro
Gordo, and Chapultepec, with a thousand others,
have been stained with the warm blood of Irishmen.

The author's recollections of Dublin city at
this time, are particularly interesting, especially
the trial of John Mitchell, which is given at length.

Mr. Balch is a very agreeable companion, and
might be more so, if he were not so exceedingly
fond of running into logical discussions and specu-
lations. He is violently opposed to the papistical
doctrines, and quotes Scripture freely. His book
is written in pleasing narrative style. Some of his
descriptions are admirable, and none dry. At
times, he has shown himself a clear thinker, and
his conclusions have been almost prophetic, antic-
ipating many succeeding events, while at others
they have been extremely erroneous. His pictures
of beautiful scenery and old castles, are as exhila-
rating as his recollections of the misery he saw are
horrilying and heart-rending. Altogether, the book
is readable and instructive — though we cannot en-
dorse all the authors opinions — and the impression
left, is that one would wish he were contemplating
the valley of the " Sweet Liffey," strolling across
the beautiful bridges or gazing at the " elegant
and massive" buildings in the " fine old city " of
Dublin — taking an excursion to Killarney — Glen-
gariff or Mongarton. Walking up the Mardyke
outside of Cork, kissing the Blarney stone, or ex-
amining the many old ruins and castles of the feu-
dal times, which Mr. Balch describes with much
grace and effect. J. S.

Lays of Fatherland : By John Savage. New
York : ... J. Redfield, Clinton Hall.

This little volume is by an enthusiastic young'
son of Erin, driven from that ill-fated country by
the late troubles. Poets find their best stock in
their sorrows, and the author wields his pen with
skill and vigor against all kinds of oppression and
ill-gotten power. To us, on this side of the At-
lantic, such themes have only an ideal interest;
tyrants and oppressors are known only in song,
and our hatred of them, if we have any, is a kind
of sentimentalism. But, to his countrymen, the
author's verse will have a real living significance,
and l^s tiook will commend itself to them by its

fund of patriotic feeling and indignation. The
author is still a young man, and these productions
are to be judged of with this qualification. They
are full of the national spirit and liveliness.

The Sacred Poets of England and America.
From the Earliest to the Present Time. Edi-
ted by RuFus W. Griswold. Illustrated with
fine Steel Engravings. A new improved edi-
tion. New York : D. Appleton &l Co. 1850.

The first thing that strikes one on opening this
truly elegant volume is a splendid line engraving,
by Phillabrown, of Biedemann's picture of the
Lamentations of Israel. It is, to our view, a per-
fect piece of art, both in design, in feeling, and
execution. The volume itself is a selection of
poems from those authors in our tongue, who
have written hymns, prayers, and mystical pieces
in verse ; an admirable design of the compiler, but
defaced in the execution by some improprieties.
Among the authors selected we find the name
of Arthur Cleveland Coxe. Mr. Coxe may be a
very good writer, but public opinion will not
accord him a niche in the same temple with Milton
and Spencer. Several other names, as it seems to
us, might, with propriety, have been omitted.

Another ill feature in this work is the presence
of several poems, which, professing to be religi-
ous are strictly amatory, and have no place in the
sacred company in which we find them. We find,
for example, the following from Spencer's " Hea-
venly Love" :

Then shalt thou feel thy spirit so possest.
And ravished with devouring great desire

Of his dear self, that shall thy feeble breast
Inflame with love, and set thee all on fire,
With burning zeal through every part entire,

That in no earthly thing thou shalt delight
But in his sweet and amiable sight.

A poem of Drayton comes after in order.
" Moses meeting the Daughters of Jethro," and
the " Burning Bush," — a pastoral, very strongly
reminding the reader of Ovid :

Where the soft winds did mutually embrace
In the cool arbors nature there had made,

Fanning their sweet breath gently in his face.
Through the calm cincture of the amorous
shade.

And again :

Whilst in the beauty of those godly dames.
Wherein wise nature her own skill admires.

He feels those secret and unpiercing flames.
Moved m fresh youth, and gotten in desires.

Carey, one of the most voluptuous of poets,
figures in this collection, in his poem ol " Plea-
sure," which begins with the line, —

Bewitching Syren ! Golden rottenness !

Even in the three pages devoted to the Rev.
John Norris, " author of numerous theological
works," the space is occupied by poems amatory
and Ovideau. One in the stram of a repentant de-

1850.]

Critical Notices.

663

bauchee, and the other an address to a pretty mis-
tress in heaven. Master Quarles, ot" quaint repu-
tation, is here, among these amatory gentlemen.
Witness the lines on the soul reconciled to God :

Oh, then it lives involved
In secret raptures ; pants to be dissolved :
The royal offspring of a second birth
Sets ope to Heaven, and shuts the door to earth.
If love-sick Jove commanded clouds should hap
To rain such showers as quickened Danee's lap ;
Or dogs (far kinder than their purple master)
Should lick liis sores, he laughs nor weeps the
faster.
Verses of the above character have no place in
a selection of sacred poetry. If they were care-
lessly let in, the compiler has neglected a duty.
If they were put in to sugar the volume he has
committed a fault.

We confess to be very much amused at a deli-
berate attempt of Mr. Griswold to foist the once
notorious, but, we thought, long e.xtinguished, Sir
Richard Blackmore upon us as a sacred classic.
This old gentleman, absolutely the weakest scrib-
bler of his day, carried the art of writing nonsense
to its height. Witness the following selection,
from Mr. Griswold's volume, from a paraphrase of
the 114th Psalm :

" Terror, the mountains did constrain
To lift themselves from off their base
And on their rocky roots to dance about the

plain.
The little hills, astonished at the sight,
Flew to the mother mountains in a fright,
And did about them skip, as lambs
Run to and bleat about their trembling dams.
What ails thee, O, thou troubled sea,
That thou, with all thy watery troops, didst flee ]
What ailed the Jordan 1 * * *
What did the lofty mountains ail ] * * *
That they their station could not keep. *
But why do I demand a cause
Of your amazement, which deserves applause ?
The rhymes of Sir Richard are a kind of extem-
pore tustian, written off at an easy canter of the
pen. Frailty is tempting to imitators. Let us
try our hand at this rub-a-dub thunder of the anti-
muse. A line a minute is our stint.
Praiseworthy mountains, on your toes to stand.
And skip, gyrating, round the wondering land !
The wondering sea, it was astonished too,
And set its waves to imitating you.
Amazement seized them ; all their foamy caps
Went up like ruffles, and, with thunderous raps.
They thumped the shore, and swashed up all the

sands,
Like thousand wash tubs, poured by thousand

hands ;
The thousand suds, which altogether pour,
Made a grand splash, and also a vast roar.
The sea was sick with so much wonder, and
Puked up its contents on the wondering land.
The land it.-elf, half crazed with all this pother, —
What, with its mountains justling one another, —
What, with its hills all dancing on their toes,
And cataracts pouring from each hillock's nose, —
Shook with an ague, mixed of rage and woe, —
One is never at a loss for the rhyme in this

sublime and studied style of verse, so here it

comes, just at the wish] :

And from its shoulders 'gan waves, rocks and hills

to throw.
Know yon, my cozey mountains, what it was
That brought your skiey noddles to this passi
It was that necromancer Blackmoor, who
Gave cramps to nature, and gave " fits" to you.
'Twas he, who, dining first, with fell design

[Sir Richard dined first, in order to ensure a
proper bathos in his lines.]
Sat down, and mangled David, line by line ;
And, mangling David, mangled nature too :
So, in the good old time the Christian flayed the

Jew.

While our pen, heated with chase of syllable"
hung trembling over the beginning of another cou
plet, and Fancy, nodding on the edge of dream-
land, had lost sight of her definitive goal, we felt
or imagined we felt, a hearty slap on the back, and,
turning with a start, brought our tender nose in
contact with the big red one of a merry old friend,
in whose twinkling eye shone the genius of satire.
The ruby of the wine colored his check, and on his
musky breath hung the savor of the last night's
carouse.

Not a word passed. The pen hung frisking
above the page, until, bursting through a stutter,
the rubicund lips dictated the following :
Av — ast ! you C — c — ritic ; let Sir Richard in,
'Twere ill for us, if rhyming were a sin.
Even I, the god of merriment and drinking,
Blear-eyed Silenus, rhyme while I am winking.
Jolly my cups, my muse a merry hussy.
Her manners slack, her virtue not too fussy ;
Yet god Apollo, when a little blue.
Laughs at her nonsense, and applauds it too.
All the gods rhyme, as well as each tor's soul

can.
From solemn Jupiter, to fustian Vulcan.
And swear I will, whate'er they be indicting,
They imitate Sir Richard in the writing.
Dan Jove, far-thundering in a phrensy fit.
By Cupid shafted, or by Hermes bit ;
Tears up a forest, where, all pele mele,
Trees, rocks, wolves, elephants, and creatures

scaly.
Winds, spouts and tornadoes, all jammed together.
Make vast confusion, (and disa.-tious weather,) —
These aie Jove's verses, (and reverses too,)
To shock the Fates, and turn the Pareac blue.
All good works perish, — even the rolling spheres
Have their grand periods, — their Saturnian years ;
But Chaos is inmiortal, and her name
Outlasts the last faint trumpetings of fame.
Then live, Sir Richard ; dullness' illustration.
Folly's own child, and Chaos' near relation.
Observe how rhyming in a mood divine.
He bangs the world to ruin in a line.
Gods, trees, rocks, monarch, armies, rats and hail.
Tornadoes, elephants, and coats of mail ; —
He mouths together, trope on trope he fljngs.
Turns upside down, and inside out, all things.

Grim Pluto is no bard, mayhap you'll think;
And yet even he makes ver.-es in his drink-
Our grave Sir Richard, imitating then,
He sends ennui on all the tribes of men.

664

Critical Notices.

[June,

Tartarean fumes dispensing from his brain, —

All damned critics shake, and tortured poets

plaine.
Old Erebus rumbles to his thunderous verse,
While horror's heaped on horror, curse on curse.
Byronic heat the long drawn torment spins ;
He writes a pestilence, and then he grins.
He writes a song, — that's legal prostitution ; —
A pastoral, — that's family confusion ;
A tiery ode, that's conflagration sore ;
An epic, — that's an everlasting bore.
What ere he writes, (Sir Richard still the model,)
He but indites the hell that's in his noddle.
Poetry is passion ; passion knows no rule ;
Love is the poet's lord, and Love's a fool :
Your dunce for aye inspired, is aye inditing ; —
The love he writes from is the love of writing.
When watery Neptune sighs for Amphitrite,
To ease the mighty pain he too, must write,
The beach his paper, and the wave his quill,
A spumy stanza he throws off at will ;
Foam follows foam along the yielding shore,
Each line obscures the line that went before.
(So, soft Sir Richard, rhyming best and worst.
The last line of each couplet drowns the first.)

The half sweet, half satirical voice of the rhy-
mer ceased. I turned with a start, and there, in-
stead of god Silenus, stood my good friend B. J.,
whose broad, red face I had mistaken, in the lapse
of a reverie, for that of the god of mirth.

Iconographic Encyclopedia of Science, Literature
and Art. Published by Rudolph Garrigue, No.
2 Barclay street, New York.
No. 8 of this celebrated work has been sent us
by the publisher, and contains a series of valuable
modern maps of European countries. German
maps are the best in the world. Here are twenty-
four highly finished maps for $1, certainly the
cheapest atlas ever published. The letter-press is
a treatise on Geology and Geognosy. No. 7 of
the same work is a series of splendid anatomical
plates, good for all practical purposes — twenty-
plates for $1. This is, beyond all question, the
cheapest engraving ever executed, considering its
quality.

Conquest of Canada. By the author of " Ho-
chelaga." 2 vols. Harper & Brothers, 82 Cliff
St., N. Y. 1850.

These two volumes were intended for a com-
plete and elaborate account of Canada, from the
time of its first settlement to that of its conquest
by the British. We have had no leisure to make
a minute examination of them, and can only say that
they are written in a flowing and agreeable style,
with every attention to accuracy and picturesque
effect. They contain also a large and full detail of
the Geography, Natural History, and general fea-
tures of the two Canadas.

We do not as yet observe any symptoms of de-
cline in the popularity of this famous History.

Macaulay's History of England. From the last
London edition. New York : Harper & Broth-
ers.
The Harpers have just issued a small octavo

cheap edition of Macaulay's History of England.

ShaJcspeare^s Dramatic Works. — Phillips, Sam-
son & Co. are publishing a very splendid edi-
tion of Shakspeare's Dramatic Works, illustrated
by ideal portraits of the Shakspeare Beauties,
equal in effect and e.xecution to the celebrated By-
ron Beauties of Finden. Notwithstanding the
elegance of the execution the edition is a cheap
one, only 25 cents the number, each number con-
taining an entire play. This is the " Boston edi-
tion" proper, and is a complete library edition. A
mere notice of the work is sufficient for the purpose ;
that is, of recommending it to readers of every class,
as a complete and satisfactory edition. We have
now fifteen of the numbers, and the publishers have
undoubtedly succeded in the enterprise ; at least they
deserve to do so.

Latter Day Pamphets. Edited by Thomas Car-

LYLE. New York : Harper & Brothers. Nos.

4 and 5. The new Downing Street, and the

Stump Orator.

In " The New Downing Street," Mr. Carlyle
makes his first appearance as a practical politician,
and takes the field in favor of Sir Robert Peale to
be the next Premier of England. Mr. Carlyle is
neither reactionary nor radical. While he advo-
cates reform, he nevertheless leans strongly to-
ward the monarchy, and manifests but little
faith in universal suffrage. In the pamphlet en-
titled " Stump Orator," he gives a great deal of
general sound advice to the rising generation, and
hurls his sarcasm against the peculiarly English
trick of speechifying on all occasions. Had Mr.
Carlyle been educated in America he could not
have been more completely American than he is
in his preference of active industry to every kind of
merely literary or rhetorical industry : indeed we
have observed for some time that he is becoming
not only Americanized in his views of life and
things in general, but absolutely Yankeefied.

Milman's Gibbon's Rome. Boston: Phillips, Sam-
son & Co. 1850.

We take occasion to notice a second time this
valuable republication of the most elegant of all
Histories. The publishers of this series seem to
have undertaken to issue none but first rate works.
Every thing that we have seen from the press of
Phillips, Samson & Co. indicates the possession,
on their part, not only of great skill and large
capital, but of literary taste and judgment in selec-
tion.

Literature of the Slavic Nations, with a Sketch
of Popular Poetry. By Talvi. With a Pref-
ace by Edward Robinson, D. D., L. L. D. New
York : George P. Putnam, Broadway.
A History of Bohemain, CrcEation, Servian,
Russian and Polish Literature, with very full ex-
tracts from the popular poetry of those nations.
It is not probable that Professor Robinson would
have issued any thing upon one of his favorite sub-
jects that he did not esteem to be of the first order ;
and we accept this work from him, under the belief

1850.]

Critical Notices.

665

that it is the best source of information on the li-
terature of the Slavonic nations.

Prior's Works of Goldsmith : George P. Putnam,

New York.

We notice the completion of this e.xcellent edi-
tion of the works of Oliver Goldsmith. It is pub-
lished in the same form and style with the new
series of Irving's works. 4 vols., small octavo.

Standish, the Puritan. A tale of the American
Revolution: By Eldked Grayson, Esq. New
York : Harper & Brothers. 1850.
This work is dedicated to Louis Gaylord
Clarke, Esq., the witty and agreeable editor
of the Knickerbocker, to whom the author in
his dedication gives some account of the origin
of the work. The author says that his first
recollections are fixed upon the scenes of our
Revolution, as recounted by a grand-parent
who served in the war, and whose two brothers
were killed at the battle of Wyoming. From the
characters and incidents thus imprinted on his me-
mory he drew the materials for the present story.
We forbear any criticism of the work until reading
it. Turning the pages rapidly over, we discover a
great variety of character and incident, narrated
in a rapid and flowing style, but rather in the man-
ner of a biography than of a novel.

Life of John Quincy Adams : By William H.

Sewaud. Auburn: Derby, Miller & Co.

There is an extreme propriety in the publica-
tion of a life and eulogy of .lohn Quincy Adams,
by William H. Seward. These two men, — one,
of the past, and his successor of the present ge-
neration,— stand as unmistakable and unquestioned
representations of that species of republicanism,
which is never content but with the entire liberty
of every grade of humanity. Both, avowed and
open antagonists of the institutions of the South ;
both, defenders of nationality, rather than of Fe-
deral union ; both viewing politics from a point of
view philosophical and progressive ; both have
earned for themselves the reputation of leading the
e.xtreme party of the North ; a reputation con-
firmed upon them by passages and acts of their lives,
in which there appears more, perhaps, of partizan
heat and of sympathy with the people, than of the
shrewdmess of guarded and ambitious statesman-
ship.

Dictionary of Scientific Terms : By Richard D.
HoBLYN, A.M., Oxon. New York: Apple-
ton, & Co. 1850.

All persons, who wish to cultivate an agreeable
and intelligent power of conversation, should have
at hand a convenient manual, or dictionary, of sci-
entific terms. One of the most beautiful traits of
conversation and writing is accuracy in the use of
words, but it can be acquired only by constant re-
ference to a dictionary. Let any person who thinks
himself a tolerable master of the English language,
but who is only slightly acquainted with the sci-
ences, turn to this dictionary, and observe how
many words are in constant use for scientific pur-

poses, of which he himself knows nothing, but
which, to know, would be a very great conveni-
ence, not to say an accomplishment.

The volume is a small octavo ; cheap and con-
venient for reference.

Dictionary of Mechanics and Engineering . D.

Appleton &, Co., New York. 1850.

D. Appleton & Company continue to issue
their splendid work upon various branches of en-
gineering and mechanics. Nothing as minute and
comprehensive as this work has yet appeared in
America. A single number, which lies before us,
has an elaborate engraving of some kind of ma-
chinery on almost every other page. The work
is not got up for the mere amusement of a scienti-
fic curiosity, but is for the use and instruction of
the practical machinist. Works of this kind have
been published in England, but it is not probable
that anything more complete than this has ap-
appeared.

Moneypenny ; or, the Heart of the World : a

Romance of the Present Day : By Cornelius

Matthews. De Witt & Davenport, New York.

A friend has promised us a critical notice of this

work, which will give a true account of it. It

embraces " The Adventures of a Gentleman in

and about New York ; Story of the Indian Girl ;

The Sempstress and the Poet ; The Cheerful

Newsboy ; Tiie Sharper and his Confederates ;

The Young Dandy and the Woman of Fashion,"

with various characters from the upper and lower

" walks of life." It is very freely commended by

the press.

Schmidt's b; ZumpVs Classical Series : Cicero.

Philadelphia : Lee & Blanchard.

We have fully noticed the edition of Quintius
Curtius of this series. The present volume is uni-
form with that.

Cicero de Officiis. D. Appleton & Co., New

York.

This edition of the morals of Cicero, one of the
most excellent works of antiquity, and worthy, in
its spirit, of a christian philosopher, is justly a favo-
rite with scholars, as an initiatory book in teaching
the elegancies of the Latin language. The edition
is arranged, and the notes selected, by Professor
Thacher of Yale College, an American scholar
who completed his education in Germany, and
who has since earned an enviable reputation as a
Latinist.

The Annual of Scientific Discovery, or Year
Book of Facts in Science and Arts : Edited by
David A. Wells, of the Lawrence Scientific
School, and George Bliss, Jun. Boston:
Gould, Kendall & Lincoln. 1850.
This is intended to exhibit the most important
discoveries and improvements made in many de-
partments of the sciences and useful arts. It con-
tains, also, some addenda of great value ; such as
a list of recent scientific publications ; a classified
list oi patents j obituaries of eminent scientific

666

Critical Notices.

[June, 1850.

m'en, and an index of important papers, scientific
reports, &c. No work that has been laid upon
our table lor the last month has proved more at-
tractive than this annual. It is composed almost
entirely of extracts from scientific journals and re-
ports. It is a close printed volume of some 390
pages, small octavo. Nothing of consequence
eeems to have escaped the diligence of the editors.
They have given us a very full account of the im-
provements in the electric telegraph, of the advan-
ces made in American Geology, and new facts in
Natural History and Physiology.

Merrwirs of a Hungarian Lady : By Theresa
PuLSZKY. With a Historical introduction by
Fkancis Pulszey. Philadelphia : Lee & Blan-
chard. 1850.

The first third of this volume contains what we
have desired to see — a history of Hungary, up to
the present day, by an Hungarian. The memoirs
of the lady, whose husband was engaged in the
political movements for the liberation of his coun-
try, are full of political, and historical anecdotes,
highly illustrative of the state oi things in Hungary
during the late revolution. Some portions of it
are intensely interesting.

Household Words : a Weekly Journal, conducted
by Charles Dickens. George P. Putnam, New
York. 1850.

Here we have an English weekly periodical got
up, printed, and issued, in England, coming from
the office of a New York publisher, as though it
were an American work. A slip of paper, pasted
on the date of the number, carries on it the name
of the American publisher. This journal is not,
properly, a journal; but is only a collection of sto-
ries, by Dickens and others, divided into weekly
numbers, and has very much the air of a literary
speculation. The printed matter in this pretended
journal, as far as we have examined it, has no par-
ticular merit of any kind.

Linda; or, The Young Pilot of the Belle Cre-
ole. A Tale of Southern Life : By Caroline
Lee Hentz. Author of the prize story of" The
Mob Cap," &c. Philadelphia; A Hart ; late
Carey & Hart. 1850.

Our recollections of the admirable story of" The
Mob Cap" lead us to form great expectations of
pleasure from this volume. The style of the nar-
rative is extremely fine, the plot intricate, and full
of character, and the denoument exquisitely pa-
thetic.

The Village Notary ; a Romance of Hungarian
Life. Tranlaled f;om the Hungarian of Baron
Eotbos : By Otto Wencksteen. With intro-
ductory remarks by Francis Pulszky. New
York: D. Appleton & Co.

Here wo have something decidedly new. An
Hungarian novel of Hungarian life, by an Hunga-
rian ; and a biographical introduction, al o by an
Hungarian, written in Engli ji. To acquire a cor-
rect idea of the manners of Hungarian people, and

of the political condition of that country, we have
now, at least, two correct sources, as far as they
go, in our literature,— the novel before us, and the
life of the Hungariau lady already noticed.

Eldorado Adventures in the Path of Empire :
By Bayard Taylor. New York : George P.
Putnam. 1850.

As a portion of this work of Mr. Taylor has
been already published in a series of papers in the
Tribune newspaper, we have only to acknowledge
the favor of the publisher in sending us the vo-
lumes, and to say that the author has added many
unpublished personal incidents and pictures of so-
ciety in Cahfornia, together with an account of his
journey across Mexico, which form the most in-
teresting part of the volumes. The Report of the
Hon. Thos. Butler King, on Californian affairs,
has been added as an appendix.

Memoirs of the House of Orleans : By W. Cooke
Taylor, L. L. D. 2 vols. Memoirs of the
Court of Marie Antoinette : By Madam Cam-
pan. 2 vols. Philadelphia : Carey ; late Carey
& Hart. 1850.

The agents for these two works, Messrs. Stringer
& Townsend, sent them, with a request that they
might be fully noticed ; but their value and im-
portance entitles them to a full review, which will
appear, if possible, in our August number.

An Essay on the Opium Trade : By Nathan
Allen, M. D. Boston : John P. Jewett &
Co. 1850.

In a previous number we have called the atten-
tion of our readers to a very interesting and valu-
able history of the Tea-Trade, by Gideon Nye,
Jun., of which a third edition has been called for.
The present pamphlet on the opium trade supplies
what is omitted in Mr. Nye's work, in regard to
the preservation of, and the commerce in, opium,
and the mode and extent of its use in Asia. These
two pamphlets, taken together, will teach us all
that is necessary to be known regarding tv o of the
most important branches of commerce. By this
trade in opium the government of India pays its
English and Sepoy army. The opium is purchas-
ed by the Chinese with specie. It is said that
eight million pounds of opium will be brought to
China this year. It seems a possible thing that,
by the use of this drug, the empire of China may
be completely corrupted and destroyed, as, in for-
mer ages, by other vices, other nations and em-
pires have loit their independence, and, finally,
their place upon the surface of the earth.

O' The titles of the above publications were
selected for notice out of a much larger iwniher
sent us by the courtesy of publishers. To give a
full and accurate account of every new publica-
tion, to satisfy either their authors, or the public,
would occupy the Review of every month.

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