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tons A. GRAY, PttlNTni, '79 FULTON, COR. GOLD STREET, N. Y. 

*.* « 


America and Europe : ** Peace" and " Foreign Re- 
lations ;" being a retrospective and prospectiye 
Reyiew of Republicanism, 251. 

A Word of Encouragement; 115. 

American Diplomacy with the Barbary Powers. 
Piracies and Aggressions, 27. 

American Aggressions on BritisH Free Trade^ 169. 

A Truth, 533. 

An Exile's Dreams, 608. 


Bradford : Deecriptive and Historical Sketch of, 

Babylon: A Poem, 407. 


Critical Notices, 02, 190, 878, 474, 565. 
Church of England in a Minority, 372. 
Coptic Song, 260. 
Oaveto Reipublicao Parricidas, 7. 
Civil Discord Duty-Free, 116. 

•♦ If the base Hatterers of despotic power rise up against 
my principles, I shall have on my side the virtuous 
man, the friend of the laws, the man of probiiy, and 
the true citizen."— Vattbl, Law of J^ations^ Pr^aei. 

Crossing the Ferry, from Uhland, 447. 


Disadvantages of being Bom in One's own 

Country, 210. 
Dr. Wayland on Collegiate Reform, 141. 
Democratic Review on Freedom of Trade, with 

Reply, 233, 329. 
Dofia Paula ; or, the Convent and the World. 

ATaleof Peru, 419, 609. 
Death Verses: A stroll thYOUghthe Valley of the 

Shadow of Death with Tennyson, in company 

with Shelley, Milton, Blair, Swift, Coleridge, 

Moore, and otiiers, 634. 

Areedom to HerVotaricii 126. 


Garibaldi-Paes, 178. 

Geraldin : A Play in Five Acts. By an Ame ri- 
can, 812. 


Henry C. Carey: American School of PoUtieal 

Economy, 79. 
Hon. John P. Kennedy, 18. 

Imaginary Presidents : The Ideal of a National 
Administration, 289. 


" Judgment by Default :" Our position on the Cen- 
tral American Question, 276. 
Junius : Lord Chatham the Author of, 484. 

Lessing's Laocoon : The Secret of Classic Compo- 
sition in Poetry, Painting, and Statuary, 17. 

" London Assurance ;" or. Sir Henry Ly tton Bat 
wer vertu^ Yankee Newspapers, 60. 

Longfellow's Poems, Review of, 869. 

Leigh Hunt, Autobiography, with Reminiscencet 
of Friends and Contemporaries, S4. 


" More of It ;" being another Chapter en ** London 
Assurance" and Newspapei^j^ception, 177. 

Mr. Martin Farquhar Tuppei^i^overbial Philos- 
ophy on its Travels, 874. 

Madame D' Arblay, Review of the Life and Timet 
of; 267, 306. 

Meredith Demaistre, the Pet of. the Parvenus, 129, 

Memoir of the Hon. William Wright, of New- 
Jersey, 867. 

Memoir of Judge K H> Dimmick, of Califomia* 

MifceUanj, 87, 18*7, 8*76. 


Ftfflected Autbora. Bishop Berkeley: ''Maxims 

OboeermogPatrotism,'' 126 ; **The Qaerist," 127. 

Babelais : his account of the great Master Gas- 

Ur, the InreDtor of Arts, 804. 
JTottt : Plate of Mr. Clay, 476. 

** ** A. Ramsey, 664. 


Oar TVansatlantic Article ; being a Reyiew by an 
Knglish hand of the recent Travels of one of his 
T^nsatlantic CousinS) and now first published, 

Our CoDtribatorei CoL Joseph R Cobb^ of Miesis- 


Pendenois and hisCkmtemporaries,396. 
Protection— Free Trade. Mr. Carey's " Harm(»iy 

of Interests,'* 448. 
Pony Pbets and Piratical Publishers, 68. 
Pditical MoUves for 1851-2. 7. 
Pditical PoeU: Waller and Maryell,412. 

crtratt of Joseph B. Cobb. 
pQrtiait of Hoa John P. Kenne<fy. 
pQrtiait of Henry C. Carey, Esq. 
pQrtfait of Henry Clay. 
Portiait <^ K. IL Dimmick. 
Ptetndt of Hod. William Wright 


Bbbflrt Sciiitbey, life and CorrespondeDce o( 167, 

I^paai: Doo Frandeoo Martinex de la Rosa, 498. 
SjpaCTilatJTe Philoeophy in the Nineteenth Cen- 

Steil Sdason: Hie Humble Ranonstraiice of 

Steel Scissors, an orer-worked and ill-use 
ber of the American Press, 869. 
Sonnet, 12. 


The Democratic Reviewer Reviewed, 338. 
,The Two Thompsons— G. P. and P. P 

another Chapter on " Civil Discord Dut^ 

The Crowning of Quashee : A Coronation ( 

moration, 352. 
The Eagle and the Ancient Elephant. I 

nard t^e Fox, 232. 
The Humanitarian Language : A Paraphn 
The Out-door Artbi From the French o 

Vanderburck, 464. 
The Prelude, or Growth of a Poet's ML 

view of, 448. 
The American Avatar : Sage, Poet, and H< 
The Sorceress, 15. 
The Decenniad, 54. 
The Session and the Whig Party, 1. 
The Fugitive Slave Law, S83. 
The Diary of Lady Willoughby, 545. 
The Yankee Mahomet, 554. 
The Rival Painters, 506. 

IJseB and Abuses of Lynch Law, 213. 


Verses Written on the Walls of Bologna, S 


« World's Fair." The First Olympiad c 

Flight I, 97. 
William H. Crawford, Review of the L 

Times 0^193,475. 


The Session and the Whig Party, 


rican industry, because it is American, and 
laws awarding an ad valorem premium to 
British and Russian industry, because it is 
British or Russian. These laws too were 
enacted by men professing " free trade ;" 
and were enacted against the very artisans 
who are their most faithful followers. We 
have seen, too, laws by the action of which 
British speculators have been enabled to 
stay the mill-wheels of our factories, and 
extinguish the funiaces of our smelting- 
houses; we have seen writ after writ of 
ejectment issued by British hands against 
New-England factory-girls and Pennsylvania 
workmen; we have seen them driven from 
their shops and work-rooms by the hand of 
Britain, as nakedly displayed as it is on the 
banks of the Ganges or the San Juan ; and 
the laws under the protection of which these 
schemes were effected, were enacted and are 
defended by that party which declaims 
about non-interference, and professes eternal 
<ievotion to the "adopted citizens" and 
Bunkum. We have seen markets of profit- 
able export destroyed,* and markets of 
ruinous import forced into existence by the 
same professors of " enlightened commerce," 
and of the philosophic principle of " every 
man for himself." We have seen, by the same 
hands, the entire American nation, with its 
variable climate, its many climates, requiring 
for every degree of latitude a different de- 
gree of thickness of cloth, reducod to a state 
of complete dopendence on I British looms 
for even a shirt or a coat. We have seen 
the wages of the American artisan reduced 
or stopped ; we have seen him compelled to 
ubmit to the plunder of slop-employers on 
the London system, or revolt ; we have seen 
him driven to beggary or prison ; and yet we 
have permitted the artisans so foully plun- 
dered to believe that thev who plundered 
them were " Americans " and " Democratic." 
We have seen these highly American and 
thoroughly Democratic statesmen drive the 
produce of America into the hands of British 
aristocrats, sending to their shop American 
agriculturists with food, American cotton- 
growers with cotton, American gold-diggers 
with gold, to get them clothes, barring up 
our own shop doors the while, and thus af- 
fording to the mainstay of European tyranny 
the power of loaning million after million, 


* Vide Report of Secretary of Treaaury. 

raised from American soil, to devastate 
Hungary, or defeat the schemes of the Ger- 
man people ; and we have permitted the en- 
actors of the laws under which wrongs so foul 
and universal were transacted, to represent 
themselves to the " adopted citizens " and 
emigrant population, as the "Friends of 
Hungary," the "Friends of Ireland," the 
Friends of Universal Freedom, and so forth. 
Nay, we have conversed in work-shops with 
artisans, and out of doors even with idle Ame- 
rican artisans, who have propounded to us as 
true and good, the stereotyped defence of the 
very falsehood by which their right hands 
were rendered unproductive of life. Such 
things could not be, were any means taken to 
inform these men of the true nature of the 
delusions practised on them, and of the true 
and necessary effects of those theories to 
which, through a virtuous love of democracy, 
they have blindly pinned their faith. In the 
artisan population of America, largely Ame- 
rican, largely too of foreign birth, and from 
the essentials of their craft possessing acuter 
minds, larger comprehension and a superior 
knowledge to any other class of workmen, 
the party which identifies itself with the 
support of native industry has resources of 
infinite power. It was the policy of the 
earlier period of tlie Democratic party to 
abuse and despise them as a mob, and of 
the later and present periods to hoodwink 
them with Jesuitic j)hrases and i)lau8ible 
generalities taken from the English economic 
vernacular, and so use them. The natural 
instinct of a German or Irish artisan coming 
to these shores, is hostility to all schemes 
for the protection of British manufactures, 
whether conceived in London or propounded 
by an " Union Safety Committee " in New- 
York. And all that is required to fasten 
firmly this allegiance to American industry, 
is to display fully to thom that the party 
called here "Democratic" is precisely the 
same party which, by plundering their native 
countries, has driven both to these shores. 
Yet we <lo not know of a single book pub- 
lished in these United States, calculated to 
inform an artisan of his real necessities and 
those of the country of his adoption. The 
" free-traders," relying on l>hnd faith alone, 
lead by blind faith — tlie supporters of Ame- 
rican industry relying on the educational 
developments of the people, use no means 
whatever to create those educational devel- 
opments. On the contrary, the highest 

The Session and the Whig Party. 


rostrum in the land, the possession of wliich 
has been for two years in the hands of the 
** anti-free-traders," has been permitted by 
them to remain totally disused, while they 
could have made it every day of the past 
and present session an engine of discussion, 
forcing their theories and facts through 
every publication in the country, to the de- 
feat of their adversaries, and the great dis- 
comfiture of agitators and disunionists of 
every grade and color. For two years, we 
say, the Whig party has been in possession 
of office — and though since its infancy it 
has been pledged to the support of native 
industry in all its branches against all odds, 
though it has staked its existence on the 
practical success of its theories, and the sin- 
cerity of its professions, yet in that time (if 
we except the Secretary of the Treasury's 
Report) not a single effort has been made 
in either House for the support of Ameri- 
can labor, unless indeed the reading of the 
ridiculously impertinent letter of Sir Henry 
Lytton Bulwer against it. 

Let us hope that for a little, at all events, 
the slavery agitation is at an end. Two 
years of the Whig term of office have been 
already wasted in considering " the condi- 
tion of the planter-down-South question." 
Let some of the remaining moiety of the 
official term of the present administration 
be disposed of in considering the more im- 
portant question of the condition of the 
white republicans of the North and West, 
whose slaves are their two hands only, and 
'whose property is being daily and hourly 
spirited away by the machinations of " Dem- 
ocratic statesmen," and the Syren wiles of 
the arch goddeas of abolition of every trade 
but her own — England. The principle of 
State-rights against Federal usurpation, or 
more properly the principle of co-equal in- 
dependence in each of all the States, against 
any attempt made by one to use the federal 
authority for its gain and the injury of its 
sisters, is one which, in our political exigen- 
cies, must for ever recur ; and it is not im- 
probable that the slavery question, in all its 
aspects, may finally assume the character of 
a question connected not with negroism, but 
with white freedom. The State of Vermont 
has already, by a declaratory act with refer- 
ence to the constitutional right of habeas 
corpus against the recent act of Congress, 
placed one phase of it upon that issue. 
And to a similar issue may be reduced the 

question falsely called of " free trade," but 
really that of protecting by federal authority 
the trade of one interest or section in another, 
and to the injury of the whole. Were the 
Federal Constitution to be again formed, it 
would probably be the wisest and soundest 
Democratic course, to leave every State of 
the Union free to establish its own custom- 
houses and pay for them, to enact its own 
tariff laws, and take the consequences, re- 
quiring the Federal Government to depend 
for its resources solely on direct taxation. 
But under our present system, the good of 
the whole can only be obtained by compro- 
mise, by kindly exposition, and by enacting 
those laws only which are good for the 
whole, and not for an interest. Did the in- 
juries, even under the present system, which 
result from the wholesale exportation of raw 
produce, result only to the States which ex- 
port the raw produce, other States would 
have no right to interfere. Were Carolina 
alone injured by the export of raw cotton, 
or Ohio alone injured by the export of raw 
food, the people of New- York, Pennsylva- 
nia, or Massachusetts, would have no right 
to prevent the exporting States from pohti- 
cal suicide. But the fact is, that since the 
Declaration of Independence the interests of 
the manufacturing States have been made 
subsernent to those of the exporting States, 
so that, under the action of federal authority, 
the amount of raw exports have been in an 
inverse ratio to the prosperity of native 
manufactures— or, in other words, the nomi- 
nal wealth of the Carolinas has been increas- 
ing with the absolute poverty of New-Eng- 
land. That this result must follow from our 
present system the student of sound econ- 
omy, or even he who will open his eyes to 
facts, will at once see. We have ourselves 
endeavored to simphfy these truths in papers 
intended for the more general reader ; and 
if anything were needed to substantiate 
them, we have but to turn to the Report of 
the Secretary of the Treasury. The poHcy 
which the British Government has always 
practised, and to which it is as steadily at- 
tached at tliis day as it was a hundred years 
ago, is that of breaking down the manufac- 
turing energies of every country with which 
it has come into connection, and reducing it 
to the position of a mere grower of raw 
produce. Had the present tariff been en- 
acted by British hands it could hardly be 
better demised to that end. A premium is 


The Session and the Whig Party. 

given by ad valorem duties to the importer 
of British goods to undervalue the amount 
in value imported ; and even taxes are laid 
upon the application of American industry 
to certain articles needed in American man- 
ufacture. Were these " free trade " men par- 
donably consistent, one might be excused for 
credulously believing them ; but with the 
declared intentions of England on one hand, 
and the figures of the Secretary of the 
Treasury on the other, one cannot doubt but 
that this country is by the unseen agency of 
economic laws firmly under the control of 
England. One hundred and fifty years ago 
(A. D. 1*719) the British House of Com- 
mons formally declared " that the erecting 
of manufactories in the colonies (i. e. of 
North America, now the United States) 
tends to lessen their dependence on Great 
Britain." And lest it should be supposed 
that the spirit and policy which dictated 
such a declaration was at all changed in our 
day, this present year. Anno Domini 1850, 
was not three days old, ere Sir Henry Lytton 
Bulwer, by direction of his Government, ad- 
dressed a letter to Mr. Clayton, in which 
he declared, with reference to " the erecting 
of iron manufactories" in Pennsylvania, that 
** higher duties in America (on iron manu- 
factured in Great Britain) would produce a 
very disagreeable etioct upon public opinion 
in England." And that *' public opinion in 
England " has been very agreeably affected 
for some time at the total decline of not only 
our iron but our cotton and other manufac- 
tures, we have but to turn to the Report of 
the Secretary of the Treasury recently pre- 
senU^d to Congrei^s. Tiiere, among many 
other examples, we find these figures, show- 
ing the vast increase in raw cotton exported 
to Great Britain, and decrease in cotton 
manufactures exported to the same : — 

To Great Britain. 

Cot Wool Cot. Man. 

1846 127,707,717 $9,607 

1847 35,841,265 6,765 

1848 41,925,258 28 

1849 47,444.899 2,591 

1850 48,884,463 • 50 

Total ^201,803,592 119,041 

Our entire exjvort of manufactured cotton 
this year amounts only to $23,01:3,702 — of 
raw cotton to 8296,563,066. 

Turning then our eyes to the Victories of 

native manufacture, we find them locked up 
and idle, and their artisans crowding in idle- 
ness the purlieus of our great cities. 

So of iron and other manufactures — ^we 
are deliberately sacrificing our own popula- 
tion to maintain that of England. And not 
only that, but we are daily running in debt 
to England to a vast amount — giving her 
our railroads for iron rails, and our banks, 
canals and public works for loans of her isap- 
ital to carry out this stupendous waste. 
Every interest in the country, save only the 
raw-export interest, is perishing ; debts are 
daily contracting, and the means to meet 
them daily decreasing, so that it requires no 
foresight to prophesy a financial crisis of no 
ordinary character, whenever our European 
creditors, by war or other causes, may be 
compelled to call upon us for the payment 
of our bonds. 

The friends of native industry in Congress 
should therefore lose no time in pressing 
these manifold questions upon the attention 
and discussion of the country. Their ener- 
gies should be directed not so much to the 
enactment of a protective as a preventive 
tariff. Productive tariffs are unjust in prin- 
ciple and unsound in theory. They involve 
a denial to the poor of luxuries, and the 
protection of the appetites of the rich to the 
injury of the whole. Such duties, therefore, 
as may be altered, should not be altered for 
the pur])ose of producing more revenue, but 
of preventing the admission of the article 
taxed. Our whole commercial and mone- 
tary systems should be thoroughly examined, 
and brought before the people, that thus, 
though defeated up to 1853, the supporters 
of native industry may have thereafter some 
chance of success. 

One subject in particular wo recommend 
to anti-free-tniders in Congress to begin with ; 
the subject of international copyright. The 
principles upon which are grounded the 
right of American literary men to protec- 
tion against the wholesale importation of the 
British manufaetui-ed article, are precisely 
those upon which are founded the rights of 
all other American industry to similar pro- 
tection. And as far as their interests go, 
literary men, almost without an exception, 
have accepted and will sustain these princi- 
ples. They are, besides, the intellectual 
rulers of the people, and their seriices are 
requisite to the creation of any popular im- 
pressions. It would be a wise pohcy to com- 


The Session cmd the Whiff Party. 


mence with them, and to afford to their in- 
terests that support, and to their just rights 
that necessary protection, without which as a 
class they must continue poor and dependent, 
at the mercy of every cheap publisher of 
British trash. Once their mincfc have been 
led to consider the question of native indus- 
try with reference to their own interests, they 
will not be slow to apply it to the interests 
of the cotton spinner, the leather manufac- 
turer, the moulder and the smith. 

In an article like this, merely prefatory 
to the principal subjects of sessional discus- 
sion, it is impossible to notice every subject 
which may be worthy of the attention of 
Congress, or thoroughly exhaust any. In 
connection, however, with the sustentation 
of national industry, there are other questions 
of almost equal moment, to which we would 
direct attention. 

1st. It would be an irresistible argument 
against the present system, to produce in 
figures from the books or evidence of the 
companies themselves, the amount of stock 
representing the ownership and profits of 
our railroads, canals, aqueducts, harbors, 
public buildings, &c., &c., now owned in 
England. " Absenteeism " is the worst com- 
mercial evil to which a countiy can be sub- 
jected ; and the system of government must 
bo vicious and inherently bad which permits 
any country to fall under a system so ruin- 
ous to every industry, and so perilous to the 
very existence of the nation. We beheve 
that at the present day, English absenteeism 
is drawing firom the produce of American 
industry, an amount not less than fifty mil- 
hons of dollars per annum. 

2d. Considering our ruinous extent of 
imported manufactures, and our equally 
ruinous export of raw produce ; considering 
this yearly drain of absenteeism, and the im- 
mense yearly addition of gold to the cur- 
rency of the world, and that of America in 
particular, it is manifest that a commercial 
and monetary crisis of no ordinary extent is 
,9X hand. It is well to be prepared for it. 

Our system of banking, based on notes con 
vertible into gold and silver, is one whicl 
before fifty years must abolish itself; an( 
indeed the time may not be so distant when 
to compel a man to buy gold with his indus 
tiy, and then to buy his dinner with th* 
gold, will be looked upon as an antiquate< 
folly. The currency of the country shoulc 
be based on the national industry alone 
without the intervention of a more evanes 
cent and more variable standard. Gold an( 
all other metaLs should be thrown into th 
market, to be bought and sold at their rea 
value for use or export, and not kept screwe< 
up to a congressional value, in a state ui 
productive to all but the bill-broker and th 
sweater of coin. We urge upon our finar 
ciers the necessity of looking to this subje( 
at an early period ; for in the uncertain stat 
of our creditors in Europe, with the falhn 
manufactures and increasing poverty of tb 
country, there is no prophesying when th 
national industry may be driven into sti 
greater difficulties, and the very existence < 
the industrial classes imperilled. 

3d. Immediate steps should be taken t 
make such roads of communication betwee 
the Atlantic States and the Pacific coas 
as may be adjudged best for the genen 
good. Three plans have been proposed — th 
inter-oceanic canal, the plan of Mr. Bentoi 
and that of Mr. Asa Whitney. The firs 
and the last have our entire approval. 

4th. The public lands have been so feai 
fully plundered firom the people, that w 
fear it is hardly worth while to speak of an 
which may remain unsold or unbartere< 
Reserving such as may be needed for publi 
improvement, let the rest, at all events, b 
made free to actual settlers. 

We trust the members of the Whig part 
in Congress will urge these topics on th 
public ear. When thoroughly understoo< 
and appreciated by the people, the part; 
which sustains them will rule the Unites 


Political Motives for 1861-2, 



When felon hands disturb the public good, 

' Then, if the State be strong, the wrong is crushed. 

And murderous discord into peace is hushed; 
But if the State be weak, and what it would 
Do, it dare not do, then the savage brood 

Of hungry hounds, with early triumph flushed. 
Speed to new crimes, and seize their gory food. 
Insatiate now, not having been withstood ! 

Be warned in time, my country I Pirate knaves 

Are swarming in thy midst ! Their banner waves 
Dusky and foul ; yet blazoned with a lie. 
To foil suspicion. Ah, the day is nigh. 
If now false slumber seals thy watchful eye, 

When patriots dead will shudder in their graves! 


In the December number we gave our 
readers an illustration of the frightful ca- 
lamities brought upon a nation by placing 
her in a relation of free trade and recipro- 
city with England, whose enormous manu- 
facturing monopoly, with open jaws, sucks 
in and devours the agricultural wealth of 
Ireland, and is fast reducing that country 
to a desert. We have shown, by the sta- 
tistics of McCuUoch and others, that tlie 
periods of famine in that cx)untry are ex- 
actly the periods of largest commercial 
intercourse with England. We have shown 
also, that if the population of Ireland is 
taken to be eight millions, that country 
produces food enough to keep thrice that 
number of persons from absolute starva- 
tion ; that the surplus of Irish food, to- 
gether with a small portion of that of 
North America, of France, and the countries 
of the Black Sea and the Baltic, feed the 
entire mass of English operatives and 
idlers, not one half of the fourteen millions 
of England being supported by their own 
soil. The horrible calamities suffered by 
Ireland — leaving four millions of her people 
at the mercy of a potato crop, which failing, 
they were reduced to beggary and starvation- 

have been traced, not by a train of argument, 
but by the mere co-statement of admitted 
facts, to the operation of English monopoly 
legislation, under the lying designations of 
free trade and reciprocity between friendly 
nations. This " friendly " relationship resem- 
bles the friendly protection extended by a boa- 
constrictor to the creature it devours. The 
process of charming, slavering, and swal- 
lowing, by " friendly " intercourse, by a com- 
mon " literature" and freedom of intercourse, 
bears a truly remarkable resemblance to the 
operations of the great snake upon the bird. 
Ireland has been fairly swallowed, is under- 
going the macerative process prior to final di- 
gestion ; her crushed figure, buried in the belly 
of the monster, raises a protuberance, just 
large enough to remind us of her existence ; 
and the late Irish rebellions — strong convul- 
sive kicks and twitches of the muscular parts 
of the entombed creature — serve to remind 
us that it is still suffering the silent agoniea 
of dissolution. 

It has been objected, that we ought not 
to charge the Enghsh Free Trade Ministry 
with the guilt of wholesale homicide ; that 
the deaths of the four or five millions of 
miserable wretches who have perished gradu*^ 


Political Motives for 1861-2. 


ally, or are about to perish, of hunger in 
Ireland, does not lie at the door of English 
rulers. That the crimes of men are meas- 
ured by their knowledge : that we must not 
beheve an English minister would wiUingly 
and deliberately destroy a million of wretches 
by famine. Finally, that the calamities of na- 
tions come rather by the ignorance and imbe- 
cility, than by the malice of men in power. 
Were the affairs of England to fall sud- 
denly into confusion, and her manufactures 
cease, say our objectors, her own people 
would die for want of food, but their deaths 
could not be charged upon the malice of her 
ministry for the last fifty years, but only on 
their want of foresight, and general bad 
management. That political stupidity and 
prejudice have perhaps killed more human 
beings than even the sabres of Genghis 
Khan or the bullets of Napoleon have put 
to death. That a good-natured, wrong- 
headed fool in power can do more harm, 
generally, and cause the deaths of a greater 
number of men, women, and children, than 
the cruellest tyrant. Arguments which de- 
mand a serious consideration and a dehber- 
ate reply, and which in good time will receive 
both, we trust, to the satisfaction of our 

It is also to be considered, that English 
rulers are merely representative ; that they 
go into power with instructions, and are 
bound to maintain a certain system, or 
they go out. Reform comes from the 
people if it comes at all, and not in any in- 
stance from the rulers, unless in rare cases, 
when ministers happen to be at once heroes 
and statesmen. 

" Where then," continues our temperate 
and discreet objector, "will you lay the 
blame of this awful calamity, and of all 
similar calamities greater or less, impend- 
ing over nations who hold open and un- 
guarded intercourse with England ?" In 
reply, many answers occur to as. We may 
lay it if we please upon Providence, and 
suggest as a remedy days of fasting and 
prayer. But as the God of Israel favors 
.only those who act and think while they 
pray, it is needful to admit that the consola- 
tion of our answer is but trifling. 

Fate is a convenient and brojid-shouldercd 
recipient of all blame. We may lay the fault 
upon fate if we are so inclined, were it not 
tthat in our next sentence we may be fated 
•to lay it somewhere else, and impose the 

blame of our own miseries, and of Ireland, 
and all other countries exhausted by what 
has been styled the "power of suction" 
of the English monopolizers, by which 
they draw away the wealth of other na- 
tions and convert it into ships of war and 
other appurtenances of monarchy, upon the 
folly, ignorance, and selfishness of the people 
of England themselves on the one side, and 
the grasping ambition and avarice of their 
rulers on the other. 

Let us never forget, however, that in the 
affairs of this world there is a strict account 
kept by Nature, the prime minister and 
financier of the Most High. England, as a 
nation, has not profited by the mischief 
her commercial ministries have inflicted upon 
the rest of mankind. The conservatives 
of England stand ready to prove, by strict 
computation, that if the entire property 
of the country were equally divided among 
its population, each man would still be 
a very poor man, and would not realize 
enough therefrom to hve with decency and 
comfort. A great deal has been said, too, 
about the self-dependence of England, when 
it is a demonstrated fact, as shown in our 
December number, that were an impassable 
hedge built about her, one half of her people 
must perish of hunger within a year. 

The question of greatest importance before 
the world at this period, and which men of 
all parties must entertain alike, is doubtless, 
whether the present governing powers of 
England shall be suffered to go on in the 
line of ruin which they have marked out for 
us and for herself; whether we will permit 
them to enlarge and fortify a monopoly by 
which they keep several millions of their own 
people in danger of famine, and by which they 
exhaust the resources of every nation with 
which they have had the art or the fortune to 
establish relations of unprotected commerce. 
Of all people, (next to those of Ireland,) we 
of the United States are the most deeply 
interested in the reply that shall be given to 
this momentous question, beyond all com- 
parison the greatest and the most important 
that has over yet come up. 

We, the people of the United States, are 
alone able to answer it effectually. If we 
value our own country we must answer it; 
if Franco, or Germany, or Ireland, then, for 
their sakos, we must answer it. Nothing 
in our own, or in the world's service, can 
however be done while we continue the 


Political Motives for 1851-2. 


odious controversy that has so long cursed 
and stupefied us. Men are *crazed with ab- 
stractions, and seem to have lost all taste for 
realities. The confusion of party that is 
said to prevail at the present moment, (we 
need not say crisis, every instant of our polit- 
ical existence being a crisis, if some are to 
be trusted,) is occasioned by uncertainty as 
to whether the people, or any considerable 
portion of them, will continue to favor those 
agitators who advise open disobedience to 
the laws, or their effectual evasion by illegal 
methods. Now, without opening the ques- 
tion, whether the method advised by Con- 
gress for the recovery of fugitive slaves is 
thoroughly the best and most agreeable to 
the spirit of our fundamental laws ; it is, 
nevertheless, held to be absolutely necessary 
for the peace of the Union, that the law as 
it stands should be obeyed while it stands, 
and if its application is to be evaded, that 
the evasion be thoroughly constitutional and 
legal. We beg to remind those who nuljify 
it on the plea of its supposed imconstitu- 
tionality, that they are themselves much 
more unconstitutional in their use of an 
illegal remedy. While the present Sec- 
retary of State was still by comparison a 
young orator in the Senate, the people of 
South Carolina attempted to nullify the 
revenue laws, because they seemed to them 
to be very unconstitutional. The people of 
Massachusetts will do well to recollect with 
what a fine legal and moral enthusiasm they 
hailed the successful enforcement of those 
laws, so offensive to their Southern fellow- 
dtizens. South Carolinians insisted at that 
time that the sovereignty of the State was 
infringed by the execution of the tariff — that 
it was a direct attack upon the rights of 
States, which are by all men held sacred — 
Union or no Union. But South Carolinians 
have had a fine revenge upon their Northern 
friends, and can throw back the charge of 
nullification upon certain citizens of Massa- 
chusetts, who are engaged in agitating diso- 

No nation had ever a body of laws that 
were satisfactory to all alike. Unconstitu- 
tionality, inhumanity, violation of rights, 
can be charged by remote constmction, in 
some of their effects, upon almost every law, 
and indeed have been so charged. The Con- 
stitution, like Holy Writ, has its sects ; its 
High Church, its Low Church, its heretics 
and its martyrs. To recall but one example. 

Calhoun argued that Congress had no power 
of legislation over the territories, and was 
then extremely indignant with the people 
of California because they did not wait for 
the legislative action of Congress. Now, 
the people of Cahfomia merely illustrated 
the fundamental position of the great cham- 
pion of State sovereignty. 

Other Senators from the South, equally 
warm in the defence of fundamental popular 
rights, insisted on the adoption of a fine on 
either side of which it should be lawful or 
unlawful, by act of Congress, to own slaves. 
These profound legislators argued, never- 
theless, violently against the legislative power 
of Congress over the territories. 

All things considered, the people of the 
South, in the final establishment of territorial 
governments without pro-slavery or anti- 
slavery proviso, have gained a great victory 
for their darling and essential principle oif 
State sovereignties, — and the North will, in 
good time, have cause to be thankful for 
that too. It would be childish to quarrel 
with the North about territories after such 
an admission. 

Equally injudicious would it be for South- 
erners to engage in scandalous experiments 
upon the temper of the Northern people, by 
sending persons to reclaim fugitive slaves, 
not for their value, but for that avowed pur- 
pose. It is a very popular and plausible 
excuse for the people of Massachusetts that 
they understood a hostile intention in those 
persons who came into their State in search 
of -fugitive slaves. If the reclamation was 
undertaken merely to try the temper of the 
people, to be made afterward a topic of jest 
among Southerners, the result was natural, 
and should have been expected. In South 
Carolina itself, were Northern men to enter 
that State armed for the recovery of free 
negroes confined there as aliens, the same 
conduct might be expected on the part of 
the people in South Carolina. 

On a certain occasion the State of Mas- 
sachusetts sent an envoy to South Carohna 
to test the laws of that State in regard to 
free blacks, confined for entering Charleston, 
and who were also citizens of Massachusetts. 
The envoy was ordered to depart in peril of 
his life, though he came there only for the 
trial of a legal remedy. 

Massachusetts and South Carolina, or 
rather a certain irritable i)ortion of the peo- 
ple of those States, the fi*ee blacks, and 


Political Motives for ISSl-Q. 

the innocent admirers of English free-trade 
lecturers, and female orators of one, and the 
gallant disunionists of the other, have over- 
stepped a little the Hne of courtesy, and 
of the Constitution. The body of sensible 
and discreet citizens of the South and North 
are not involved in this reproach. Because 
a few are refractory, the country is not 
thereby wholly shattered, but still retains 
some little faitii in the " great experiment," 
as it is naively called, of constitutional re- 
publican government — that is to say, a 
government by the discretion, common 
aense, and broUierly feeling of the people. 

In view of the disastrous effects upon our- 
selves of the policy pursued by the Govern- 
ment of England, in their attempts to appro- 
priate the profits of all employments, raising 
up among ourselves two destructive factions, 
between whom there is no choice of evils, 
but whose hostility to each other is embit- 
tered and intensified by a rivalship in the 
favor and protection of a Power whose 
purposes they serve, we arrive involuntarily 
at the conclusion that opposition to the 
commercial and diplomatic policy of the min- 
istry of England, and to the influence by 
which they endanger om* Union, impede our 
industrial progress, and stifle every sentiment 
of nationality, has become the leading poUti- 

cal motive of the present tame. The : 
careful and extended inquiry serves 
to show, that, in every particular, the ] 
ent policy of England results of nece 
in our own disgrace and impoverishn 
Our free spirit, tne nationality and the 
and natural jealousy of the people — all t 
masculine traits that distinguish them 1 
the senile masses of Europe^ demanc 
open and manly opposition. 

The most powerful means of decep 
used to stifle this antagonism is doub 
the abuse of significant names. Every 
eigner who lands upon the shores of 
North American Continent, unless he b 
agent of despotism, inquires for the part 
the people, and is immediately en]iste< 
the ranks of " democracy and free tra 
The name of Democrat and free-trade 
America, like the name of Whig in I 
land, carries a body of well-meaning pe- 
within the pale of a party hostile and h 
ful to republicanism, and whose entire po! 
at this day, is to make a few men in I 
land, and their wealthy agents in Amei 
India, Ireland, and China, the sole mansj 
of the world's business, and in very truth 
masters of men. 

Out of the dull ignorance of the pec 
flow a thousand mischiefe ; — 

Out op palsk and 





I r Unprotected indiutry,— the people gradually depraawd. 

e < Disunion and ciril war. 

e< t Monopoly— foreign and domeatic 

% r National poltroonery. 

3I < Abolitionism. 

•s I Dread of foreign opinion,— respect for foreign advice. 


The above we hold to be the political motives of 1850. 


Out op brliortbnbd and 


I r National achievement in every art. 

1 J Tlnion and intAmnI nAnm. 


^ Union and internal peace. 

I, Distribution of wealth,— universal employment. 


. Bold Natiokalitt. |* . 


'National glory,— respect and ooniklenoe of neig^bi 

State rights inviolate, — power of the sovereignties aitgma 
Contempt of foreign opinion,— our own example reai 

upon other nations. 

Would to Heaven we dared say, that in 
the year 1852, the motives of enlightened 
democracy will actuate a majority of the 
.people ; but we dare not hope for so much. 
The flood of foreign opinion that for the 
last few years has deluged the land, seems 

to have eflfectually and hopelessly corruj 

It has even become a question of m 
speculative interest with some far-looking • 
sons, whether the tide of popular sentim< 
created by foreign and uncongenial influ( 


PdiHcal Motives for 1851-2. 


win not finally extinguish the respect of the 
people for their own institutions : a moneyed 
aristocracy created by aUiance with foreigners, 
through an open and unrestricted commerce, 
it is said, must inevitably corrupt the demo- 
cratic sentiment, and introduce elements of 
confusion which must finally break up the 
common grounds of union. 

At this very moment, this powerful and 
almost irresistible influence of a purely 
foreign Hterature, and foreign trade, has the 
efiect to produce a complete paralysis of 
parties. The grand national division of the 
American democracy, named Whig, cannot 
act out its full intentions, so completely 
pai-alyzed is it by the touch of England. It 

is compelled to lie inactive and yield an 
unhoped victory to its antagonists. 

This paralysis of a great democracy is 
certainly the most remarkable phase of 
national politics since the Revolution. The 
industrial classes of the people cannot en- 
gage in any new enterprise because it may 
be displeasing to the present English Govern- ' 
ment, and because the idea that any oth^ 
people beside the English should supply 
themselves with clothes, books, and utensils 
of their own making, is pronounced by travel- 
ling English gentlemen to be a humbug, 
and a proof of ignorance. This state of 
things may perhaps be better comprehended 
by the reader in a tabular form. 




That the Union will continue. ---- ...... 

That Monarchy will profit by ita dissolution. ...... 

That the South will find ita adrantage in a close commercial alliance with 
the West and North. 

That the general imperial goyemment ought not to abolish slavery, in a 
State or territory. -----.---.. 

That the abolition of slavery will place the Southern States, the West Indies, 
and the cotton lands acquired, or in process of acquisition by Great 
Britain on the Southern part of this continent, on an equality. 

That the American people have any nationality, or policy. ... 

That foreign opinion ought to govern America. ...... 

That America will benefit by such government. ------ 

That the commercial prosperity of America will finally prove to be that of 
foreigners aluuo, and not of the American people. 

That American wealth ought to flow over into foreign hands. - - - 

That free trade is beneficial to English, American, and Irish corn-growers. 

That Exeter Hall, agitating free trade and abolition in the same breath, is tho 
great sustainer of British manufactures. 

Tliat modern Republics can have any literary or philosophical talent. 

That thoy despise themselves. _..-.__.. 

That they will ever be treated with consideration and respect by the other 
first class powers of the earth. 

That they will ever develop a distinct national opinion and polity. 

That they are a civilized people. 

That they have any men among them who have a true national pride, that 

needs no fostenng from foreign travelling eulogists. - . - - 
That they have moral courage. -----.-.. 

Whether the American democratic governments are not in fact serviceable 
tools of English Whigs. 

Whether a shrewd diplomatist cannot twist an American politician Into any 
shape it pleases him. .---....._ 

Whether the republican rule of non-interference may not be made a pretext 
by Great Britain to work her sovereign pleasure with tho weaker nations 
of the continent. ........... 

j9 hvmbugr, 
A certainty. 

Ji humbvg^, 

^ conatttutional httmbuf, 
{Exettr Hall and Ho*m of Cumm mm 
qtiottdjbr this. ) 

A certainty. 

Ji humbvg. 

A certainty. 

JI first-class humbvg. 

A certainty. 

A supreme necessity. 

A first-class humbug. 

A divine fact. 
A question. 
A certainty. 

A doubt. 

./? sublime humbvg. 

A prize question for the next Cam- 
bridge graduates. 

A droll absurdity. 

To be answered by their Ambassadors. 

The less said the better. 

{Investigation rHpprested.) 

To be tested by the event. 

A question to be whispered about, 
and replied to by winks and nods. 

To this list, an hundred others might be 
added, but those given will serve to illustrate 
the spirit of that foreip^n opinion which 
paralyzes parties in the United States. 

Nothing, however, can be imagined more 
powerfully illustrative of the influence of 
foreign opinion on this continent, through 

the opening of unrestricted intercourse, 
commercial and 'literary, than- the passivity 
and inaction of the people in regard to 
Central America. The fact that no popular 
movements have been made in that matter, 
discovers to our waking senses with what a 
millstone our necks are encircled. On tho 


Political Motives for 1851-2. 


democracy of America we are compelled; 
to thTX>w the blame of an inactiyity, and a 
cruel indifference, as unnatural and unconge- 
nial as it is mischievous. 

Let us imagine for a moment, that neither 
our clothes nor our opinions came to us 
from abroad; that, in a word, we were 
thoroughly independent of foreign com- 
merce, and could not only supply ourselves, 
but all the world, with the luxuries and 
necessities of life. Let us suppose that 
the Abolition party of New-England did 
not exist, or (fid not look to foreign lec- 
turers to propagate their doctrines, and that 
Southern slaveholders, those champions of 
the rights of individual States, those testy 
guardians of sovereignties, did not look to 
a foreign power to sustain their withdraw- 
al from the Union. With what a shout 
of execration would they have received 
the news of the seizure of the naval station of 
Rotan, midway between New-Orleans and 
the IsthmiLs; and of the establishment of a 
new British protectorate in Central America, 
and over the Isthmus State of Costa Rica ! 
With what a violent military enthusiasm 
would not the entire martial population of 
the South and West be affected 1 News- 
papers would teem with exhortations to the 
Government, petitions would flow in upon 
Congress, hundreds of thousands of volun- 
teers would register their names at Wash- 
ington for the defence of the Isthmus, the 

strength of the navy would be trebled, the 
troops would furbish up their bayonets— th« 
people would throng Uie parks and market 
places to hear military orations — the in- 
truding foreign power would be notified, 
that, as the American Union was originally 
founded upon a compact of many inde- 
pendent sovereignties, and existed solely by 
the continued recognition of State individu- 
alities and liberties, — according to the laws 
of nations, compact or no compact, — ii 
felt itself bound to enforce that law upon 
this continent, as it hoped for salvatioD, 
and desired the respect and friendship cl 
the world ; and that, all things considered, 
without any farther examination of treatiei| 
it was decidedly the best policy, and the 
safest for both parties, that the free States of 
the North American Continent showld not be 
seized upon by foreigners ; and that, too, with 
the highest consideration and esteem, and 
at your earliest convenience, — phrases at onoe 
diplomatic and business-like. But these, 
alas ! are the sentiments of '76, and in days 
of r<ailroads laid with foreign iron, and 
laws based on foreign opinion, they fall flai 
and tame upon the ears of an enlightened 
Democracy. American honor has grown 
gray, and fives retired, while American shame 
builds palaces on the shores of the AtlantiCi 
and with his merchant navies wafts away to 
England the profits and the honor of the 



People talk Sentiment, but do they live it ? 
The lips are echoes of the mocking heart, 
And that false subtlety which takes its start 
From its dark chambers — they are first to give it. 
Oh, our two natures — they are rank deceivers, 
The inward Counsellor, the outward Act — 
The gilded Sentiment, the iron Fact — 
Befooling all but practised unbelievers. 
True wisdom this — doubt the fair words of men, 
Hear promises, advice, with cautious ears ; 
Being deceived, be not deceived again. 
And watch the deep monitions of your fears. 
So shall Success, that well-fed imp, abide 
Through on obsequious world, attendant at your side. 


jETon. John P. Kennedy. 



The public services of Mr. Kennedy, in 
both a literary and political capacity, have 
been great enough to ^ve occasion for an 
extended biography. We must content our- 
selves, however, vnth presenting a few scat- 
tered facts in his life, from the present want 
of more ample materials. 

Mr. Kennedy's father emigrated from the 
north of Ireland, and settled in Baltimore, 
where he became an active and prosperous 
merchant. He married a daughter of Phihp 
Pendleton, of Berkley County, Virginia. 
From this union there were four sons, of 
whom John was the oldest. He was born in 
Baltimore, 26th of October, 1V95, and was 
educated at the Baltimore College, where he 
was graduated in 1812. 

In 1814 he served as a volunteer — a pri- 
vate soldier in the ranks at the battles of 
Bladensburg and North Point. 

In 1816 ho was admitted to the Balti- 
more bar, and began a successful practice in 
that city. 

In 1818 he, in conjunction with his highly 
accomplished friend, Peter Hofl&nan Ciiise, 
published in Baltimore a little work in 2 
volumes, called The Red Book, It appeared 
in numbers, at intervals of about a fortnight, 
and was of a playful, satirical character. 
The book, though of an ephemeral nature, 
excited a good deal of attention. 

In 1820 Mr. Kennedy was elected to the 
Legislature of Maryland, as a delegate from 
the city of Baltimore, and was re-elected in 
1821 and 1822. 

In 1830, Mr. Kennedy first became an 
author, publishing Swallow Bam in the 
course of that year. This book was de- 
signed to be a picture of the manners, 
customs, and peculiarities of Eastern Vir- 
ginia. The narrative was pleasantly drawn 
up, and obtained for the young author a 
gratifying reputation. Leaving out of view 
for the present his pohtical occupations in 
the interval succeeding, we will proceed to 
enumerate his productions. 

In 1832, he published Horse Shoe Rohvnr 
soUy the first idea of which he received from 
an accidental acquaintance with the hero of 
it, whom he met in the Pendleton District 
of South Carolina in 1818, and fr'om whom 
he received some interesting particulars of his 
own participation in the war of the Revolu- 
tion, which were faithfully introduced into 
the story. This work of fiction wat perhaps as 
extensively read as any one produced among 
us, with the exception of two or three of Mr. 

In 1838, he produced jRob of the Bowl^ 
a story intended to illustrate some portion 
of the early history of Maryland. In 
particular the wild, reckless character and 
stem and bloody career of the Buccaneers 
of the Gulf—" The Brothers of the Bloody 
Coast" — was vividly set forth in this fiction, 
one of their leaders with his piratical crew 
being introduced as cruising along the shores 
of Maryland. 

In 1840, he wrote and published Quod- 
libet, a political satire written during the 
Presidential canvass of that year, and hav- 
ing special reference to the scenes and topics 
of that contest. 

Mr. Kennedy, besides these more extended 
writings, has delivered many public addi'esses 
upon invitations from various societies; 
among them, 

In 1834, One before the Horticultural So- 
ciety of Maryland. 
" 1835, A discourse on the Life and Char- 
acter of William Wirt ; deUv- 
ered at the request of the Bal- 
timore Bar. 

The Annual Address before the 
American Institute of New- 

Address before the Faculty of 
Arts and Sciences of the Uni- 
versity of Maryland ; in which 
he had been appointed Pro- 
fessor of nj&\firt^» 






Mon. John P. Kennedy, 


In 1835, Address delivered at the conse- 
cration of Green Mount Ceme- 
tery, near Baltimore. 
** " Sundry Lectures on various sub- 
** 1845, Address before the Maryland His- 
torical Society on the Life and 
Character of Geo. Calvert. 

Mr. Kennedy's life may be regarded in a 
two-fold aspect — his labors as an author and 
his career as a statesman being diverse but 
inseparable. The latter may be said to 
have commenced with his election to the 
Maryland Legislature in 1820, when 25 
years of age, four years after his admission 
to the bar, two years after his debut as an 
author. Re-elected in 1821, and again in 
1823, he was the following year appointed 
by President Monroe Secretary of Legation 
to ChiU; which appointment he resigned 
before the mission was ready to sail. 

Espousing the side of the Administration 
of Mr. Adams, while continuing to reside in 
the strongly Jacksonian city of Baltimore, 
Mr. Kennedy was now virtually shut out 
from public life for years. But his interest 
m pubUc affairs was undiminished, and his 
activity in support of his cherished princi- 
ples unimpaired. In 1830 he wrote an 
elaborate review of Mr. Cambreleng's Re- 
port on Commerce and Navigation, ably 
controverting the Anti-Protective fallacies of 
that Report. The next year he was a dele- 
gate from Baltimore to the National Con- 
vention of Friends of Manufacturing Indus- 
try, which met in New-York, late in the 
autumn, by which he was appointed on the 
Committee to draft an Address in defence 
and commendation of the protective policy, 
which, in conjunction with his colleagues, 
Warren Dutton, of Massachusetts, and 
Charles J. Ingersoll, of Pennsylvania, he did, 
each writing a part. 

In the autumn of 1838, he was elected 
a member of Congress from the double dis- 
trict of Baltimore city and Anne Arundel 
county — the first time a Whig had been 
elected from that district. He was promptly 
recognized and respected as one of the ablest 
of the many able new members, which the 
changes consequent on the monetary revul- 
sion of 1837 had brought into the House. 
In 1641 he was again elected, and, on the 
assembling of the Whig Congress of that 
year, he was appointed chairman of the 
Committee on Commerce. In that capacity 

he drew a Report on our so-called Reciproc* 
ity Treaties, and their effect on the shipping 
interest of this country, which widely com- 
manded attention. Several other reports 
from his Committee evinced like ability and 
research. He also, in behalf of a Commit- 
tee appointed by a meeting of the Whig 
members of both Houses, drew the celebra- 
ted " Manifesto" of the Whig members a1 
the close of the extra session, exposing and 
denouncing the treachery of John Tyler — 
a document rarely surpassed in ability, pe^ 
spicuity and scathing vigor. 

Indeed, it may be asserted, that no per 
son in this country writes on political ques- 
tions with more clearness, eloquence, and 
convincing argument than Mr. Kennedy. 
His style in his hterary productions has 
always evinced many excellent qualities ; 
but when he touches great national topics, 
he seems to be imbued with a new power. 
The same qualities which give him this 
peculiar ability on such topics, render him 
also a rapid and eloquent narrator on his- 
torical subjects, as several of his public ad- 
dresses testify, and as is shown by his Biog- 
raphy of William Wirt, which was lately 
given to the public. 

The State having been re- districted, he 
was again elected to the House in 1843, 
from the single district composed of tlie 
greater portion of the city of Baltimore, and 
served through the Twenty- eighth Congress. 
In 1845 he was once more presented for 
re-election, but defeated by the diversion of 
a small portion of the Whig vote to a 
" Native American " candidate. In Octo- 
ber, 1846, the Whigs of Baltimore insisted 
on having his name on their Assembly 
ticket, and, to the astonishment of their 
brethren throughout the Union, he w» 
elected, with two of his colleagues, in a city 
which gave a heavy majority against Heniy 
Clay two years before, and still heavier 
against the Whig candidate for Governor in 
that year. 

The most important public effort of Mr. 
Kennedy, and for which the party and the 
nation owe him a debt of gratitude, was per- 
haps his grand exposition of the contrasted 
doctrines and practice of the Jackson fac- 
tion, in his great speech at Hagarstown, Mar 
ryland, Sept. 2Vti, 1848, reported in the 
National Intelligencer^ Oct. 18th, of the 
same year, previous to the election of Gen- 
eral Taylor. 


The Sorceress, 


In this speech, which is a wonderfully 
condensed history of the rise of the present 
Whig and Locofoco parties, Mr. Kennedy 
has identified the Jackson faction with the 
older Federalists, by showing that the Federal 
leaders went over almost en masse to the 
Jackson standard, and carried with them 
those Tory doctrines, derived originally from 

England, which gave its peculiar character 
to Qie Jackson administration. In the num- 
ber of this Journal for January, 1849, this 
speech of Mr. Kennedy's is fully reviewed. 
On a future occasion it is our hope to present 
a complete memoir of our accomplished 
statesman and historian, together with a re- 
view of his writings. 



There is a palace built of clay, and, mildly as the moon, 
A clear and quenchless hght illumes an inner lone saloon ; 
And there in dreams reclmed, or pacing to and fro erect, 
A Caliph lives who bears the merry name of Intellect. 

His footmen slumber, watch, or play around the outer gate, 
And strangely are they named — Despair and Hope, Affection, Hate, 
Sorrow and Joy : he calls them so, for 'tis his idle whim. 
And gently rules them, or, if not, they only laugh at him. 

His thoughts, a motley populace, as little fear his word ; 
They mock his indolent police, and shame their vaunting lord 
Whene'er he tries to marshal them, and through the land he goes 
In burnished mail of poesy, or flowing robes of prose. 

More oft he sits at home, and trusty Memory mixes draughts 
Of sweet and bitter taste for him to sip, the while he wafts 
A cloudy fragrance from the bubbling hookah Fancy fills — 
The slave he keeps to dance, or tell him stories, if he wills. 

Such are his lighter pleasures, and his graver are to read 
The rolls of parchment he has gathered with a sateless greed, 
Or, leaving these, to cheer with lofty words his Heart of Heart, 
Who sits, a weeping princess, in her silent room apart 

For there, with pallid fingers prest upon her burning eyes, 
She mourns her only child, (his name was Love,) who ever Hes 
Embalmed, and fresh as if in living beauty, near her side — 
A double grief, for twice the boy had hved, and twice he died. 

He was in truth a glorious child, all music, life and light. 
With hope and force instinctive reaching toward the infinite : 
Oh, he would conquer all the world, when he became a man ; 
But passed away, ere half a score of sparkling summers ran. 

16 The Sorceress. Js 

The mourning princess smiled in peace, nor ever shed a tear, 
And " Allah's will be done," she only said from year to year, 
Until, one autimm day, a wise and lovely maiden cam^ 
With melting glances, drooping eyeUds, and a nectar name. 

She was so beautiful, the menials, Scorn and Sorrow, fled. 

But Hope and Joy unlocked the doors before her silent tread ; 

She passed from room to room, — ^the Caliph bowed, and Fancy knelt, — 

And last she found the place where Heart of Heart in secret dwelt 

The princess heard a voice of sweet enchantment, raised her eyes, 
And saw the stranger and her own lost child, in mute surprise ; 
The Caliph came : " My palace, princess, and myself," he said, 
" Are thine, fair sorceress, who thus hast given back the dead." 

The lady left ; the boy remained, and with so bright a bloom, 
It seemed that he had grown in beauty in the very tomb ; 
And so unearthly were his simple words and saintly looks. 
The prince confessed that Love is wiser than the wisiest books. 

A year flew by ; the stranger then returned, and calmly spake : 

" The joyous life that I restored I needs again must take ; 

For I can keep no two aUve, and now a princeUer one. 

Whose other spurns him, longs to save from death his second son." 

She vanished, and a fatal pallor smote the noble child ; 
And now embalmed he slumbers there, and there in sorrow wild 
The loving Heart of Heart for ever says, with stifled breath, 
" I could have borne it all, but that it is a double death." 

The Caliph pufis his solemn pipe, or takes a sacred scroll 

And reads to her the words that hopeless woe may best console : 

" Thy Love is now in heaven." " Then let me yield my weary breath," 

She moans, " and find him there ; I cannot bear the double death." 


Lessin^s LaocoGn. 




The "Laocoon" of Lessing has been 
but little read in America. Copies of the 
elegant translation by Ross are rare on this 
side of the Atlantic. Readers of German 
profess to understand it in German; but 
like our collegiate Grecians, they read it, as 
Homer is read in schools, with Httle ad- 
vantage. The Laocoon cannot, however, be 
classed among "difficult books." In the 
translation of William Ross, it is easily and 
soon read. The style of that translator, 
which is clear and flowing, fecihtates, no 
doubt, an easy comprehension of the author's 
meaning. At two sittings one may read 
the whole. Lessing was neither a mystic 
nor a transcendentalist. His characteristics 
are perspicuity and judgment, and an 
understanding very free of prejudice. - 

The purpose of the Laocoon is to ascer- 
tain •the limits of poetry and painting ; to 
show what subjects, or rather, what condi- 
tions of subjects, are proper for poetic, and 
what for pictorial representation. 

The work opens with an examination of 
Winkelman's theory, " that the primary law 
of the arts of design among the ancients, 
consisted in a noble simplicity and tranquil 
grandeur, both of attitude and expression." 
The illustrations of their principles are taken, 
both by Lessing and by Winkelman, who 
were contemporaries, from the celebrated 
group in marble of Laocoon and his two 
sons, represented as perishing together in the 
folds of two enormous serpents. The fother 
appears to be in the very agony of death, 
but his features, in the marble, are not dis- 
torted to a revolting degree ; they represent 
agony subdued by an exertion of the will, 
and yet agony extreme, even to death. 
Winkelman argues that the representation 
of the moral power which subdues unseemly 
manifestations of pain and passion, was the 
true object of classic art. Lessing shows, 
on the contrary, that the poets and drama- 
tists of Greece did not confine themselves to 
the expression of subdued and dignified 
emotions ; but gave room, in their dramatic 
exhibitions, to every variety and extreme of 
passionate expression, to a degree not toler- 


ated on the modern stage; and that only 
the painters and the sculptora, in repre- 
senting the passions, kept within the hmits 
proscribed by Winkelman for all the repre- 
sentative arts. " Stoicism," says Lessing, 
" is undramatic, and our sympathy is al- 
ways commensurate with the suffering ex- 
hibited by its object." " If it be true, that 
to give utterance to the expression of pain is 
perfectly compatible — at least, according to 
the notions of the ancient Greeks — with 
grandeur of soul, it follows, that it could not 
have been from the fear of diminishing this 
elevation of character, that the artist refi-ained 
from tracing on his marble (the Laocoon) 
the outward indications of painful shrieks. 
He must then have had some other motive 
for departing, in this instance, from the line 
adopted by his rival, the poet, who has 
chosen dehberately to express those shrieks." 

In the second section of his work Lessing 
endea vol's to show that beauty is the primary 
object of the arts, and that they were con- 
fined by the Greeks to the narrow limits of 
beauty. Mere representation, made for its 
own i^ake, was not permitted. There was 
even a law among the Thebaiis, which or- 
dained tlie imitation of the beautiful alone : 
this law was directed against the carica- 
turists and delineatoi-s of vulgar subjects. 
The ancient stiituaries avoided every kind 
and degree of passion which contorts the 
countenance and destroys the beauty of the 
figure ; while to the poets, every liberty of 
representation was permitted. Jupiter, hurl- 
ing his thunder-bolt, was fierce with indig- 
nation in the song of the poet ; while in the 
sculptor's image he was simj>ly grave, 

Imitfition by the scul{)tor is confined to a 
single moment, and that of the j)ainter to 
a single [.oint of view, while it is the art 
of the poet to describe a scries of move- 
ments, one following another, in the relation 
of cause and efllct. Since, therefore, the 
arts arc limited by their own intrinsic neces- 
sities, truth and expression ouglit not alone 
to be regarded. The difficulty of the artist 
is to select such a moment, and such a point 
of view, as shall be sufficiently pregnant 



Lunn^M Laoetidm. 


with moaning. "Notliing," Bap Leasing, 
" can possess this important qualification but 
that which loaves free scope to the imagina- 
tion. The sight jind the fancy must be per- 
mitted roci[)roc.'illy to add to each other's 
enjoyment. There is not, however, any one 
moment less favorable for this purj>ose, in 
the object of art, than that of its highest 
state of excitement." Transient situations 
and aj)pearancos, our author argues, are to 
be avoided. The portrait of a man laugh- 
ing disgusts upon a second >iew. Falling 
IxKiies cannot bo represented. Ajax dis- 
tracted, after having murdered the sheep and 
oxen, which he mistook for men, leans 
gloomily upon his sword, meditating self- 
destruction, lliat is the moment for the 
sculptor or the painter ; and if an ci^ccss 
of passion is represented, it must be at 
instants of amazement and stupefaction, or 
at the pause or point of hesitation, on the 
eve of some terrible catastrophe, llius we 
see the poet and the artist occupy the 
entire range of representation, and till out 
the circle, one representing motion, and the 
other rest. 

Passing over several chapters in which 
our author discusses questions that are inter- 
45sting rather to the chissical critic and the 
antiquary than to the artist, we come 
«pon the seventh division of his subject, in 
which he distinguishes two kinds of imi- 
tation, — that of the genuine artist, and that 
of the ser\ile copyist. Tlie artist imitates 
tlie poet, and tlie ])oet the artist ; but with 
different degrees of propriety. ^Vhen Virgil 
gives us a description of the sliield of 
^l*]nea<;, he iuiitates in a certain sense the 
sculptor of the shield ; but it was a true imi- 
tiition only when he had seen such a shield, 
and when he described what he had seen. 
" If, on the other hand, Virgil liad taken the 
marble group of the Laocoon for his model," 
says Ix^ssing, " ho would have produced an 
imitation of the second kind ; ho would 
have copied the subject only, and his de- 
scription would not have been taken from 
any particular attitude chosen by the sculp- 
tor, nor would he describe it as one would 
draw it, piece by piece, and hmb by limb. 
lie would take the grouj) as the suggestor 
of a series of actions leading to the catas- 
trophe represented in the particular attitude 
selected by the stituary." Our author is care- 
ful to give a superior credit to the more ori- 
l^inal kind of imitation, in which the poet 

describes what he has seen ; taking for 
example VirgiFs di^^scription of the shield of 
^jieas, wher(3 the |Mx^t is also the inventor 
of the imagery described u])on the shieldL 
Lessing argute that it would have been a 
degradation for the poet to have taken a 
hint from the marble group of Laooodn. 
lie might, however, show as great an origi- 
nahty and power in describing the series of 
events which led to tlie catastrophe of Lao- 
coon, though his tirst hint of them mar 
have been given by the marble group, at 
the statuar}' himself, who, from some andent 
story or tradition, executed the work in 
marble. It is not originality, which is de- 
manded of tlie artist or tlie poet, — and tha 
we say of ourselves, and not afler Lesdne* — 
but the i>ower of producing a combined 
effect of pleasure and elevation, by what- 
ever means that effect may be produced. 

** The Count dc Caylus recommeuds the artkk 
to make himself thoroughly acquainted with 
Homer, that greatest of all picorial poetB-HOMift 
faithful follower of nature. The Count aasum 
the artists that their execution will be more per- 
fect in proportion to their intimacy with Um 
minuteBt detailn of the poet a description." ^ 

" The effect of the syHtem hero reoommOTded,* 
continues Lessing, in his 11 th section, ** would • he, 
to unite tlio two kinds of inutation, which I lavt 
already distinguished from each other. ^m 
painter would not only liave to imitate HmX 
which the poet had imitated before him, but lit 
would also DC required to do so with the identied 
lineaments which the other had employed ; h> 
would be required to make use of his prototypt 
not only in his cliaracter of narrator, but in Onl 
of poet likewise. 

** But how does it happen that this seoood kiiid 
of imitation, which is so derogatory to the poet, k 
not equally so to tlic artist ! if such a Mrifli 
of pictures as thiit which the Count do Caylui 
gives from Homer, hatl been in <;xistence before the 
poet WTotc ; and if we knew that he had drawl 
his story from those matt'-rials, would not our ad- 
miration of him be infinitely diminished f How 
then does it happen, tlmt we withhold none of 
our approbation from the artijst, even when bt 
does nothing more tlian emlnnly the poet's wordi 
in forms and colors ?" 

To this question Lessing rephes, that 
the works of the paiuU^r or statuary, tht 
execution seems more difficult than the i 
vention ; while, with the poet, invention 
the test. 

In offering tliis explanation, Lessing 
parts from his o\>'n principle; or rather 
he loses sight of it, and neglects it. 
his own showing, the merit of the painter 
sculptor is never the merit of the poet, 
any case. Neither is invention more 


Lemng's LaocoOn. 


)le in the poet, than in the statuary or 
iinter. And, if we be not wrong in the 
mjccturc, invention, so much piized by the 
loderns, was not in the least esteemed by 
le artists and poets of antiquity; their 
orks being founded entirely upon tradition 
ad history ; a common stock, from which 
11 alike drew their materials. 

In every work, the spirit and circum- 
tance of the plot, or situation, was given 
y tradition ; and it was the duty of the 
oet to develop and characterize it — im- 
personate it, if we may be allowed the ex- 
pression, by the actions of the figures ; while 
he statuary and painter restricted them- 
elves to certain groups and tableaux, de- 
)icting points of rest and expectation. Con- 
equently, there is no need of giving pre- 
jcdcnco to one art over the other, for the 
miverse is both at rest and in motion in an 
jqual degree, and the eternal rest is surely 
IS sublime, to our iniagination, as the eternal 

In composing pictures from Homer, or in 
sxecuting groups in bas-relief, the artist 
does not adopt even the minutest trace of 
that which is the peculiar subject matter of 
poetry, nor is it possible for him to do so, in 
the nature of things, unless by caricature. 
He adopts only the dry bones of tradition, 
the histoiy itself, which Ilomer may have 
got, and probably did get, as did Shak- 
speare, from his predecessors, improving on 
them, it may bo, and adding new features, 
but not usiiiix larger liberties with tradition 
itself than the statuary or the painter may 
iLse with the same. The iirts are therefore 
free of each other, and make no serious 
encroachments upon each other's hmits. 

Lessiug argues, tliat should the poet take 

his descriptions from groups of statuary or 

from paintings, his merit would be infinitely 


" Had Virgil,** says ho, " delineated the fate of 
ll,aocoon and hia sons from the sculpture, he would 
have foifeitcd the merit which we consider the 

the sculptor's deficiency in tlie one to the same 
extent tliat we require hiaexc*:lleuce in the other. 
** In some instances, it is even a greater merit in 
the artist to have imitated nature through the 
medium of the poet s imitation than witliout it 
The painter who has delineated a beautiful land- 
scape after the description of a Tliomson, has 
performed a higher ta«k than he who has copied it 
directly from nature." 

Were the principles of our critic, indicated 
in the above remarks, to pass into hterature 
as critical canons, we conceive a great and 
serious injury would be inflicted upon the 
arts. It may be a much more difficult task 
to paint a landscape after Thomson, but the 
difficulty of art does not in the remotest 
degree enhance its merit. Whether easily 
or with difficulty produced, is notliing to the 
point ; works of art are not for the artist, 
but for others, and were we incUned to in- 
terpose between the artist and his work, 
we should rather say, the more easily it is 
done the better. " The painter of nature," 
says our author, " has the original before his 
eyes ; the painter after Thomson must exert 
Los imagination :" but, in truth,there is no such 
thing in art as a pure imitation of nature ; 
the entire work, from the composition of the 
colors to the last degree of sublimity in 
expression, is a production of talent and 
imagination. The artist has, indeed, nature 
before him, but the spiritual significance of 
nature he has only in his own mind ; and 
it is not every natural scene, every appear- 
ance on the face of nature, that has signifi- 
cance; nor, to some minds, has ani/ scene 
ant/ significance. If ho paints after Thomson 
he does not take the colors of his stones and 
trees, (their most effective element,) nor their 
individual shapes, from Thomson. These he 
must take from nature, which is common to 
himself and to the poet. The j)oet may have 
expressed the spiritual signilicance of the 
scene, but by the canon which Lossing has 
himself established, he does so by the changes 
which pass over the landscape, the esthetic 

most difficult of attainment, and would have been succession of the changes forming a natural 

entitled only to that which is of comparatively 
smaller impt>rtance ; for the first creation of such 
u work in tlie imagination, is a far higher effort of 
genius th:in its description in words : but had the 
urtist, on the contrary, Ixirrowed liis subject from 
the poet, our admiration of liim would scarcely 
liave been dimirii:^ed, though the merit of the 
Conception would not have been his own; for 
to impart expression to the marble b infinitely 
tkiore difficult than to give expression in words ; 
^jid in comparing the relative value of expression 
«Uid execution, we are always disposed to excuse 

drama or story ; as, for instance, that of the 
rise and progress of a thunder-stoim, of 
which nature retains the tradition, for the 
use both of the painter and the poet. 

We repeat, then, that the duty of the 
painter is to represent moments of rest, 
{suggesting motions and changes,) and that, 
too, by Lessing's own established principle — 
a principle which marks a satisfactoiy limit 
between pictorial and poetical art. 


Lemn^M Laceodn. 

We firmly believe that while Invention is 
held to be the chief merit of an artist — 
while the attainment of what is called Origi- 
nality is held up to the youthful poet 
or painter — we shall never produce great 
works of art. Let Art itself be its own merit, 
and let its subjects be taken, as they come, 
either from nature or from history mdif- 
ferently ; and he who can best select and 
execute the subject, he is the greatest artist 
How absurd would seem the efforts of that 
painter, who should endeavor to invent a 
new form of human face I Novelty in art 
is a contradiction in terms, for the soul of 
art is representation. 

Let us consider in what manner a great 
artist would choose to immortalize himself. 
Surely by the representation of a moral 
theme, and by no means of any extem- 
porized fable. Were he a sculptor, his 
figure would be a Moses, a Cromwell, a 
Calhoun. He would turn to history both 
for story and sentiment ; and chiefly to the 
oldest traditions, and the most sao^ his- 
tories. Were he a poet, his choice would be 
of no idle scene, pregnant with no conse- 
quences : that which he represented would 
be significant either of the great laws which 
govern human nature in all conditions, or 
of the destiny of a nation, or perhaps, as 
in Milton's epic, of all mankind. He would 
endeavor to characterize the most powerful 
traits of humanity, in order, simply, to ex- 
press the grandeur of his ovm spirit, (for the 
artist is ambitious, and seeks admission to 
the society of the great of all ages ;) and he 
would, therefore, by a necessary sympathy, 
feel himself attracted only to the characters 
and actions of heroes and sages. If, Hke 
Milton, he chose to invent, his invention 
would Ixi merely a combination, — an assem- 
blage of known images, to express a series 
of established principles ; and in this inven- 
tion he would only imitate nature, and, as 
Milton has done, reproduce tradition in new 
actions, and doscribc what has alreadv been 
described — battles, single conflicts, strata- 
gems, statesmanship, and the interior strug- 
gles of the greater passions. He would 
never inquire whether or no he were origi- 
nal, but onlv whether he were true to 
nature in her highest passages, and correct 
and artistic in the combination of the forms 
and actions taken to illustrate his moral 

In the fifteenth section of his work, Lcs- 

sing has marked the essential difference 
tween the poet and the artist Witl 
adhering closely to the text, let us endei 
to develop the idea of which it contains 
germ, and the germ only ; for Lessing 
though the originator, did not prove hin 
the master of criticbm, and humbler spi 
following in his steps, may possibly 
something to the work whicn he begaiL 

" Time is the sphere of the poet — s\ 
that of the painter.'' More correctly, 
statuary and the j)funter make use of vif 
fixed forms to represent j)a»sions and m 
emotion**, — visible fixed formSy which 
significant in themselves, as the hrnnan 
is, in itself, significant of what passe 
the mind and heart. The poet, on the o 
hand, makes use of sounds, the measun 
time and motion. The face and fom 
man is the property of the pmnter; 
speech, the most significant and powerfi 
his actions, belongs to the jx)et It is im 
tant, however, not to mistake written 
guage, or phonetics, for an essential in 
poet's art; since poetry may be comp 
without the aid of letters, and intni 
merely to the memory. The labor of 
j>ainter and statuary Is mechanical, 
their work requires no comment ; its m 
ing, hke that of miture, being at once 
parent to all mankind. The work of 
poet is hmited to the language in whid 
writes ; a medium variously colored, im 
feet, and artificial in the highest degree. 

Tlie poet cannot make us see a tl 
which we have not seen; he can only 
present the motions and actions of tn 
which we have seen ; which gives a hin 
the mode in which poems should be i 
trated ; that is to say, by i>ictures repree 
ing points of rest in the progress of the si 
and giving us portraits of the personage 
groups preparatory to, or concluding 
action, as Shakspeare has been illustr 
by the more recent limners. 

Because language can express and ! 
gest every action, sentiment, and fed 
poetry can do the same ; but as langi 
proper always expresses by its natm 
movement in the mind, while colors 
lines express only fixed images in the si 
poetry is the vehicle for expressing pasai 
actions, and variable emotions, while p 
ing and statuary can only represent 
strictness, what is permanent and perpe 
or rather, what is complete in itself, and 


Leasing^a Ldoco&n, 


evltes no desire that it docs not satisfy. 
Strctly artistic pfroujw of statuary should 
th :n require no lalw.*! or explanation to make 
Ihem a;^reeablc and instructive. A sleeping 
iofiint, in marble, requires no text nor com- 
flk^nt to enhance its value. A blind beggar 
led by a child stands for the natural symbol 
of certain truly di\ine sentiments — inno- 
cenc:?, liiunility, submission to the will of 
Gud, and dutifulness. And surely, if the 
tfatoar}- has expressed all these in his group, 
it needs no label nor explanation, no quota- 
tion from Marmoiitel, to enhance its value. 
ff in any particular the ancients have ex- 
edled U!4, it is in this, that their artists repre- 
Knted sublime and oon^tiint emotions, such 
» are in themselves comj»lete. The statue 
of N'iulje weeping o\er her children repre- 
•ents the inst^mt access of a grief, wliich at 
ODce annihilates and replaces all other emo- 
tons which i»ervades the whole mind and 
the whole body, which is actionless through 
despair, and, therefore, represen table in tlie 
Bvblt*. A grief wthout remedy, and there- 
fcre without irritation ; for it is the incom- 
pleteness of sorrow, the tincture of a linger- 
ng hope, that inspires it and leads to vehc- 
B»*nt action. In general the art of the 
^uir;i:iry ]i'ad< him to jjrrf.-r a suMiino or 
•■iTr. i-allit-tic siil)i«.'rt, aiitl fur tin* vtTv 
r-.f'Si a^-'iirn'd : tin* (juift vision of thf 
*.'i':;':^;:L^t, wIkisc* oin-n v\*\< Im-IkiM onlv 
■[.ri'ilj tliiiiLTs and wlux' IhkIv sl»M.'j)f* iit 
i;'i-:.'. wIjI!.- tli.^ >j»iril i> <'.\alt<d, is n*pn.- 
— :.'..M'- in th" ni;irl»I<'. Th«' ('ount«'nan<T of 
I/.-- '. !_;#• i.f ufPi'iv** jihiIo<oj)li»'r is nior«'. l^i'an- 
I'l'i.ii.I in niarM" than in lif«', ju'iliaps for 
tli'- \ry r. .'i-iin that th-' >j»int of nuTc \vi>- 
*!'iu i'.irt:tk«s ni-'Ft- of ai'qui- >r«.'n«v and suh- 
ni>>;'»!j ilian i.f artion. Tli*' famous .statue of 
tij'* L'.'tt-nini; Sla\<*, so callt.-d, ])Ut hv Win- 
*• Mnr: ■;fli<-i \\i<-' d» siLTuat^'d, r«'j>n'-»'nts an- 
■•'i. : -J..-I;.-. (if r-'-t, tliat of runnini; and 
f\\>^^ i.iT": iii. Tli<- hviiiif t Iladiator, tile Ap(»llo 
V"', A r-', til- H.-nul'-s in Ajtotlicosi^, the 
M- i.« ,;ih\ "hu-, tlifNi-rv < arvatidi-: — statn«'> 
in Vi ■ |i !•• s i.f jiillii*" — <«'rv{' to ilhi^tratr 
til' .r ! <•]' anti'inity, and to >iiow tin* >U|m'- 
n-riv, *,\ jndifin-iit of tin* statnari«\s of 
iir— ■■• ..\«-r th'«*«' of lat«'r <lavs. 'I'Ik'v kin-w 
t;.- !..ji.T> i«f tli«'ir art, what it could and 
wii.t '.\ ...»ild n<.t ••Nj'h'-s i«nd tli«-y s Id'Mn 
it!* Mii't'-d anvtliinir h"Vond tho-;c liniit>». 
T!:- ;;■ '■ .I'-r- T.'t'- mcpjai'li a litth* upon the 
J r '•. ■ . ■• -'t' j<.i:ritinLf, l.ut not •'■;s«-ntiallv upon • 
U«;/l .^f p'/« try. Jtuui tlioir «inin»nt >uc 

cesses and the universal admiration which at- 
tends their works, we arc forced io concede 
them the highest praise of criticism, which 
is that they knew, firsts how to chocse the 
highest subjects that could bo executed in 
marble ; and second^ that they carried their 
execution to a degree unsurpassed by those 
who have come after them. 

In illustrating the difterenex? b«?tween the 
artist and the poet, Lessing gives us a beauti- 
ful examj)le in the jncture of 1 *andarus, from 
the Fourth Book of tlie Iliatl, which picture, 
he says. Is one of the most iinlshed and most 
illusive in the whole poem : — 

** Each moment is delineated, from the f^rasping 
of tlic bow to tlie fliglit of the arrow ; and uiese 
moments are all bo closely connected, and yet so 
distinct one from another, were we unaotjuninted 
with the use of the bow, we mip:!it learn it from 
this picture alone. We see Pandarus drawing 
forth his bow ; he fastens it on the string, oi>ens liis 
quiver, and chooses a new and well-feathered 
arrow. lie adjusts tlic arrow to the string, and 
draws back the string with the channelled end of 
the arrow, till they come in contact with his breast, 
whi'e the iron end of tlie arrow approaches the bow. 
Tlie large rounded bow now striKes asunder with 
a mighty noise, tlic string vibrati-s with a rin^mg 
sound, off springs the arrow, and flies swiftly to its 

This series of action** would require a 
dozon diftercnt statues, set in order, for tlieir 
representation. Homer j>ainls tli«in in a 
jtaragraph. lie does not d«'Senl»e llir bow, 
nor the arrow, nor the j>ei'son(>ftln' arelier — 
tli.'se lie leav« s U) ininLTiuntiou, aid-d }>v <»x- 


perienee; but lie gives u< tlu' >enf< <'f aeti<nis 
ijerlornied hv thtse, teiidiuLT nil to the ae- 
eoniplishinent of tlie work \\Jiieli he has in 
hand — the destruction of Trov, «»r rath«'r of 
its Ihto, Hector; or, if \vi* go >till farth^-r, 
the glory of (Jreieo, in the jktx.iin of iu 

''The }»ainter ran only ('nipley." >Mys T.i'-^<in:^, 
"en«' siu;;l<* niorni-nt of tlie .icti'in. .•mfj lie iiiu-t 
tlienTon* K'lect n^ a-< jc'^-iM.' that "wliicli Im 
at oiH'e expr<'s>iv«' <»f th«* [la-t ami j)M".riiaiit with 
tin* I'ltiire. Ill liUe. iriantM-r iIm- jMn't, in lii" run- 
-ei'iitive imitatidij-. can eiH|iIi»y Liit otic -iiiirle at- 
tril)ut«' of Ixxlii"*, and inii^t, ili"n-l"<>n\ M-lrct tliat 
wliivh awak(-ns the niont scii-'ihlc im:iu'«* «t tlh' 
ImkIv, uruler that jtarticular ii-prrt wliu li In* ha-* 
fh«»>(n U) ri'pn-enf. On tlii-« jjriiniplc i< f.i:iii|i'il 
the rule ef unity in the piiMorial nr <l«'-«Mj)ti\c 
epithets (ifthe poet, niid of pair-i!m»ny in hi- thli- 
lication^ (if Ixxlilv t)l)jr(t'»." 

We see that tin* unitv of itortrv is a uniiv 
of proi^r.'S'i towaiil a e=-itain • iid, — tli.* r:-<', 
th" <'ui!nination, and the ^ a:a-:roj'h" of ;i 
hin^le p.'ussi<»n in a sin^^h? indivitlual, r«j- 


lAmikjg'n LaocoCn. 


flectird in tli<? iiif ^rior mrinT^ors of the joroup 
that move with him. And this rule of unity 
holds thrcujhout tiie entire ranj2:e of f»oet:c 
art, from th*.' j:K>int of tir; ppi^ram. and the 
sin'Je thought of tii? sf^nnet, even to the 
f-ubLrne piis-ion of the ode, and the glory 
and tlie majestic ambition of the epic, in 
which the entire force of human character, | 
in one or in a few persons, in concentrated ! 
f«jr a series of years upon the attainment of a 
fiincrle jmq^ose. But this rule of unity, as it 
ajijj'^ars in the trunk and larger proportions, 
8o carries itself irjtt> the minutest leav.vs, the 
ver\' if 8 and awcT* of a vitally organized . 
IXKjra. J] very word should have a vital con- 
nection with every othr-r in the entire work, \ 
and eveiy word should express, or assist in 
expressing, an act which Is a part of the en- 
tire action, the whole, together and apart, I 
having a detined and certain aim ; and thus 1 
all disputes alx)ut the unities are set at ' 
naught by the very nature and necessity of 

"Siirh principlea as T have expressed," says 
Les<tiii<?, ^ will alone enable us to define and ex- 
plain the grandeur of Homer^s style, as well as to 
esiimate as it deserves the opposite practice of so 
many modern poets, wlio vainly seek to compete 
with the painter on a point on which they must of 
nere«»Mty be surpassed by him. I find that Homer 
paints nothins^ but progressive actions^ and each 
tXKly, each individual thing which he introduces, 
he delineates only on account of the part it bears 
in these actions, and even then in general with 
but a single trait. Is it then surprising that the 
painter ctm find little or nothing to do where 
ilouicr has employed his powers of delineation, 
and that tlic only neld he can find. to work on is 
where tlie story brings together a number of beau- 
tiful bodies in fine positions, and within a space 
advantageous to art, nowever slight the poet's de- 
lineation of all these drcumstances may oe ?** 

Leasing proceeds to illustrate this great 
discovery, which, if a new school of construc- 
lire art shall ever arise in this country, mast 
be taken as its comer-stone, and in defiance 
of that abominable miscellaneousness and 
confusion of purpose which characterize the 
modem school, by certain well chosen exam- 
ples from Homer. Thus Homer character- 
irea the ship by a single trait — the black 
flhiPi or, the hollow ship; but of the em- 
barication, the saihng, and the landing, he 
drftws a highly finished picture, becfiuse they 
-|i0 actionSy or rather a single action, whose 
-j^csj^ions belong to poetry. If it becomes 
^^e^sBTj for Homer to fix our view longer 
ua.1i us^*^ on a single object, oven then it 
'II ^ found that no picture is presented 

which the painter could follow with his 

** He cf^nlrives, by numberless artifices, to place 
this pingle object in a series of successive move- 
ments, each of which exhibits it under a differeDt 
aspect, and in the la$t of which the painter must 
wait to see it before he can faUy exhibit what has 
been described by the poet For instance, if Ho- 
mer wishes to delineate the car of Juno, he makes 
Hebe put it together, bit by bit, before om* eyes ; 
we see the wheels, the axles, the seat of the car, 
the braces and the reins, not so much in actual 
combination, as in the progress of combinatioo, un- 
der the hands of HeM : the wheels are the only 
part on which Homer bestows more than one tfait^ 
delineating the eight brazen spokes, the golden 
circles, the bands of brass, and the diver naves,- 
each separately and particularly. One woidd 
almost be incluied to Uiink that the poet had 
chosen to dwell so much longer on the wheels 
than the other parts, out of deference to the more 
important service required from them in reality." 

*" Bright Hebe waits ; by Hebe ever young. 
The whirling wheels are to the chariot hung. 
On the bright axle turns the bidden wheel 
Of sounding brass ; the polished axle stoeL 
Eight brazen spokes in mdiant order flame. 
The circles gold, of uncorruptcd frame. 
Such as the heavens produce; and round the gold 
Two brazen rings of work divine were rolled. 
The Ixissv naves of solid silver shone; 
Braces of gold suspend the moving throne : 
The car, behind, an arcliing figure bore ; 
The bending concave form'd an arch before. 
Silver the beam, th' extended yoke was gold. 
And golden reins th' immortal coursers hold." 

Lessing's second illustration is a descrip- 
tion from Homer of the king, Agamemnon, 
putting on his dress. We see him draw on 
the soft tunic, throw the broad mantle 
around him, fasten his elegant sandals, gird 
on his sword, and lastly, seize the regal 
sceptre. Another poet would have deline- 
ated the dress and left us without the action. 
We should have had a tailor's card of Aga- 

** First on his limbs a slender vest he drew, 
Around him next the royal mantle threw. ^ 
Th' embroidered sandals on liis feet were tied ; 
1'he starry falchion glitter'd at liis side ; 
And last his arm the massy sceptre loads. 
Unstained, immortal, and the gift of gods." 

Again, in dcvscribing the sceptre of the 
king he supposes that we have already seen 
it. Instead of a description he gives us ita 
history. First, it is the work of Vulcan, it 
glitters in the hands of Jove, it marks the 
dignity of Mercury, it is the baton of Pelopa, 
the staff of Atreus, and, finally, the ruling 
sceptre of the king of Argos. This makes the 
sceptre, if we may so speak, respectable in 


Leasin^s Laoeodn, 


our eyes ; and by such a description, a stick 
of wood, stuck full of copper nails, is made 
the significant usher of a line of heroic im- 
ages, representing dignity and authority in 
every grade. 

Again, when Achilles swears by his 
sceptre, the poet traces it from the green 
tree upon its native mountains to the hands 
of the hero, acquiring attributes of dignity. 

llie dehneation of the bow of Pandarus 
is another wonderful instance of the skill of 
the poet, who attaches to it a high degree 
of interest. 

It has long been a matter of wonder 
among critics that Dry den, a poet of in- 
ferior skill to Pope in the management of 
verse, should be generally better esteemed 
by the ripest judges. We believe that an 
inquiry into the peculiarities of these writers 
will establish for the elder of the two a great 
superiority in epic force, in the quaUties of 
action and vital unity. The imitators of 
Pope and Diyden, understanding nothing 
of the true vitality of art, imitated only their 
versification, their antithetic turn, and their 
epigrammatic point That the writers of the 
seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were ig- 
norant of the true principles of classic art, dis- 
covered or renved by Lessing, we have evi- 
dence enough to fill entire libraries, libraries 
commenting on, and imitating in afrigid man- 
ner, the classic unities. Impressed with the 
idea that unity was necessary to a work of 
art, they conceived of it as an artificial band, 
holding the parts of the work together, as 
the tire of a wheel gives unity, and not as 
the specific or vital principle of an animal 
gives unity to it. In treating of the episode 
and of episodic description, mechanical critics 
have regarded them as so many ornamental 
flourishes nailed or stuck upon the body 
of the work, and for which any other might 
have been substituted with equal propriety. 

In the correspondence between Goethe 
,and Schiller, of which there is a translated 
American edition, we find an apparent and 
continued effort on the part of those great 
writers and critics to solve the epic and dra- 
matic problem of unity, independently of 
Lessing, and almost without reference to 
him, and with signal ill-success. The criti- 
cisms of Goethe and Schiller have no entire- 
ness, and show the dimmest appreciation of 
the root principle of epos and drama — an ap- 
preciation so dim, the uninitiated reader will 
perhaps never discover it at all ; and in the 

works of these poetic artists there is acknowl- 
edged by all a want of unity and want of 
action, which ranks them far below the mo- 
dels of antiquity. 

The purposes of art are simple, and not 
speculative ; its materials derived from na- 
ture and tradition, and not from excogitation 
and analysis ; and perhaps it is impossible 
for any but a people whose actions are free 
and unrestrained, who have great and na- 
tional purposes, simple and heroic views, and 
an experience of life, varied upon sea and 
land, in peace and war, and through the vi- 
cissitudes of calamity and brilliant fortune, 
to produce an original and classic school of 
poetry, — a people who believe, or incline to 
believe, that what they think and can do is 
the best, saving what their fethers thought 
and did before them, and who scorn and 
detest the barbarism and corruption of neigh- 
boring monarchies. Had Greece been 
flooded with an Asiatic Hterature, generated 
from the vice and luxury of courts, would 
she ever have produced a Homer or an Ar- 
istotle? And will America ever produce 
great writers and artists who will transmit 
our glory to future generations, while she is 
cloyed and debilitated with the sweet and 
sickly literature of French libertinism and 
English servilism ? Great geniuses may be, 
indeed, in a measure, self-developed, but the 
imitative instinct puts them in strong and 
intimate sympathy with the age, the men, 
and the books with whom they converse. 
Let the young poet, and whoever wishes to 
excel as a writer and a speaker, beware of 
his company. If he associates 'with triflers, 
neglecting the harsh and disciplinary contacts 
of duty and business, and if, instead of serious 
poems and histories, he steeps his intellect in 
the muddy floods of sentimental fiction, the 
trifling and sensual, his moral power must 
decline, the pride and freedom of his soul 
be impaired, his hours of thought expended 
in useless reverie or idle criticism ; despon- 
dency and low despair \si\\ take the place of 
manly ambition. To the inexperienced it is 
perhaps necessary to add this caution — not 
to mistake verbal and rhetorical criticism, 
and classical nibbling, for a study of great 
models. Sublime and beautiful works should 
be read as one views a majestic landscape, 
by a rapid and comprehensive glance. 
Magnitude is said to be an element of the 
sublime. To appreciate the sublimity of 
Milton or Homer, one must tak^ \Sl <^ ^^ 


Lenm^i LaoeoHn. 


once an cntiro member of their work, 
secret of criticism which, unhappily, few of 
our classical scholars possess ; for these gen- 
tlemen judge a man's scholarship by the 
neatness and prosody of his quotations from 
Horace, and their knowledp^e of the great 
writers of their own and other tongues is 
ofttimes more correct than organic ; but the 
poet and the writer who works from a cen- 
tral, living principle, must work from a con- 
sciousness very different from that of the 
analyst, or dissector. English treatises of 
criticism too often resemble a hand-book 
called the Dublin Dissector, which the stu- 
dent holds in his left hand open, while, with 
the scalpel in his rights he separates the in- 
teiniment from the mascle. The treatise of 
Lessing, on the contrary, deserves to be 
called an organic treatl^^e, because it shows 
us the vital principle in the living work. 

In the seventeenth section our author 
dwells at length upon the impropriety of 
detailed delineations of bodily objects in po- 
etry. The signs of speech are arbitrary. 
When a word is uttered, or written, it signi- 
fies nothing to the hearer or reader except 
by reference to his own experience. The 
poet cannot describe a thing which no one 
has ever seen, so that the imagination shall 
receive it. lie can describe only the changes, 
combinations, and actions of tilings that 
have been seen and are already known, or 
which the imagination shapes from experi- 
ence, or from pictorial representations. Mil- 
ton's angels have a human form, speak the 
English language, and their music was the 
music known to Milton ; their armor is that 
of English knights, their artillery the mod- 
ern cannon. Thus, in the detail of his work, 
the greatest of all inventors invented noth- 
ing, lie could change, he could magnify ; 
he could darken and illuminate, cotnbine 
and put in action ; he could inspire his an- 
gels with the great passion fiimiliar to his 
own spirit; he could give thom the theol- 
ogy and the skej)ticism which agitated his 
own intellect, and there invention ceased. 
His learning tills out the work coldly and 
heavily, the pedant and poet contending for 
mastery ; his detailed descriptions of things 
without action, leave the imagination dull 
and stagnant ; but when he puts in motion 
the angelic hosts, we hear the clash of ar- 
mor, the sound of chariot-wheels, and the 
thunder of artillery — your bosoms bum with 
the ardor of the fight — and then the poet 

seems to be a creator, or inventor, in the 
right sense. 

Americsi has produced many authors wiio 
have excelliMl in the description of natnnl 
scenery. Ever}' one is familiar ¥nth the 
exquisite delineations of I Bryant and Looff- 
fellow, in tliose beautiful and pathetic littie 
{)oem8, "Tlie Water-fowl," and the ^Lqm 
of the Hesperus." There are touches in 
these of natural description unsurpaaeed in 
their kind. Many of equal or superior 
beauty are quoted by the readers of Tenoj- 
son ; but these excellent poets do not de- 
scribe for the sake of describing ; thej do 
not encroach upon the province of the land- 
scape painter ; they sjieak only of what m 
have seen and are familiar with, and tbn 
give us the changes, dramatic motives aid 
pathetic incidents, which tlie phenomena of 
nature occasion, attend, or suggest. Thcj 
combine in their j»oems the two-fold gemv 
of ode and elegy; the elegy de8crihia|r 
and lamenting past scenes, the ode, interior 
passions of an instant. In all that thej 
wTito there is motion and life, and therefore, 
we dare say, they are popular and admind 

'^ I do not deny,** says Lossing, ** to mpeedi ii 
gCDcral, the power of delineating a bodily wholes 
by means of its scparute ports ; tliis it posaeetei^ 
because its si^s, although consecutive, are j«t m- 
bitrary. But I deny tliat this power is poeeeMed 
by speech, coll^ide^ed as the mechanical mesne ef 
poetrv, because such verl>al delineatioos of hodiM 
would be deficient in tliat illusion on which poe- 
try mainly rests ; and for this plain reason, tiat 
the entireness of the body being destroyed by At 
ccmsecutive nature of tlie discourse, and an aasl- 
ysis of the whole into its part-^ being thus effiocted, 
the ultimate reunion of tliose parts, in the inisC' 
ination, must always be a work of very great diffi- 
culty, and in many ca«es would even be impoai- 
ble. Where, therefore, no illusive effect is requind, 
where the understanding of the reader alone is %Ar 
dressed, and where the only aim of tlie author a 
to convey distinct, and, as for as possible, complolt 
ideas, those delineations of bodies which are ei^ 
eluded from poetry, ])roperly so called, may witt 
perfect propriety be introduced, and may be en- 
ployed witn mudi advantage not only by thi 
prose writer, but by the didactic poet, who ia^ k 
fact, no poet at all. 

Lessing quotes instances from Virgil of 
purely didactic and descriptive poetry, whick 
are only a more agreeable paraphrase of 
prose, and exhibit skill in language, audi 
knowledge of husbandry, and nothing mon. 

" Except in such cases as these, the detailed dt* 
lino^ation of bodily objects— without the HomenBl 
artifice of rendering co-existent parts actually < 


Lessing's Zaoco&n. 


sccutive, to which I have aLready alluded — ^has 
always been regarded by the best critics as an 
uninteresting and tridinfi^ performaDce, for which 
little or no genius is reqiurcd. When the poetaster 
feels himself at a loss, ne sets to work, as Horace 
tells us, to delineate a grove, an altar, a rivulet 
meandering through pleasant meadows, a rapid 
stream, or perhaps a rainbow.'' 

" When the judgment of Pope had become ma- 
tured by years and experience, he looked back, 
we are told, with great contempt on the pictorial 
essays of his youthful muse. He insisted that it 
was indispensable for any one who desired to ren- 
der himself really worthy of the name of a poet, 
to renounce as early as possible the taste for dry 
delineation ; and compared a merely descriptive 
poem to a feast composed of nothing out sauces." 

Leasing recommends that the poet who 
has conceived a work in which a series of 
images are brought forward, with sentiments 
sparingly interwoven, should change his plan, 
and make his poem a series of sentimentB 
with but a slight admixture of images. But, 
after all, the most perfect descriptive poem 
must consist of an indistinguishable mixture, 
a perfect blending of imagery and senti- 

The eighteenth section of our author's 
work continues the subject. The practice 
of certain painters who have represented in 
one picture an entire story — as when Titian 
gives in one piece the entire story of the 
IVodigal Son ; or as if Cole's four pictures 
of tlie Course of Life had been blended into 
one piece — is condonmed as an encroach- 
ment of tlie painter upon the territory of the 
poet, and serves to show that successions, not 
in time, but in space, are the proper sphere 
of the painter. Lessing argues an equal 
absurdity in those poetical descriptions which 
give scenes without motion from object to 

And yet there Is a certain liberty allowed, 
both to the painter and the poet. The 
j)ainter may unite two distinct moments in 
tlie posture of a figure. The artist may have 
the sense and the courage to force a ride of 
art, in order to attain a greater perfection of 
expression. The poet may dwell momenta- 
rily upon an object, suspending, for a certain 
time, the entire movement of his piece. The 
painter may sometimes represent a falling 
body with effect, as has been done by Ho- 
garth ; but tliese are accidental to the main 
design, and rather heighten than impair the 
harmony of the wliole. Thus, the figures 
on the right and left of a picture, may seem 
to be in rapid action, while the more im- 

portant figures are at rest A forest scene 
may indicate tlie movement of a tempest so 
as to produce a perfect illusion, without vio- 
lating the unity and fixed lights and shadows 
of the whole. There is a broad margin al- 
lowed in all arts for an apparent departure 
from their pecuhar principles. 

One of the most, brilliant chapters in this 
work is the critique on the two descriptions 
of a shield — the shield of Achilles, by Ho- 
mer, and the shield of .^Eneas, by Virgil. 

** Homer," says Lessing, ** has composed upwards 
of a hundred magnificent verses in describing every 
circumstance connected with the shield of Achilles 
— its form, the material of which it was composed, 
and the figures with which its immense surface was 
covered, so minutely, and so exactly, that modem 
sculptors have found no difficulty in executing imi- 
tations of it, corresponding in every particular. 
This wonderful example of poetic pamtmg is exe- 
cuted by Homer without the least departure from 
the principle adhered to by him throughout his 
work. The shield is epically described — that is to 
say, created out of the rude iron and brass, by the 
hands of the poet Its figures spring gradually 
and successively into view ; the orb rises from an 
edge to its lull splendor. Homer brings before our 
eyes not so mucn the shield itself^ however, as the 
divine artist who is employed in making it We 
cannot forbear noticing, at this opportunity, that of 
all descriptions in the ancient poets, those of 
mechanical and agricultural labor are the most 
interesting and exquisitely wrought. The idea 
of indignity or disgrace didnot attach itself, in the 
sublime age of the epos, to meclianical labor. The 
stigma seems to be feudal^ and is certainly the 
disgrace of our time. Thank God, wc are ap 
proaching a new age, when labor shall no longer 
DC a diiigrace, but shall be dignified, as in heroic 
ages, by sages and poets, with the highest honors 
of humanity ; and in the day when toil is honored 
and men are free, when they have ceased to * love 
a lord,' perhaps we shall have other heroes and 
poets, it may oe, even greater than those of anti- 
(]|uity — but not while we are cursed with a servile 
hterature, and a more servile art 

** We see the divine artist approach the anvil 
with his hammer and pincers, and when he has 
finished forging the plate out of the rough ore, we 
perceive the figures destined for their embellish- 
ment, rising one after another from the surface 
beneath the judicious strokes of his hammer. We 
never once lose sight of the workman, until his 
labor is completed, and then the amazement with 
which we regard his work is mingled with the 
confident faith of eye-witnesses to its execution.** 

Is not the above the finest piece of criti- 
cism that ever escaped a modern pen — the 
richest in suggestion, the most refined and 
discriminating, and with the greatest possi- 
ble breadth of appreciation? Certainly 
nothing in Longinus approaches iUvci Kifssar 


Ameriean Dijplamacy with the Barhary Powers, 


decided victory. It however proved but 
temporary, and like a hundred other victo- 
ries over them, it proved to be but a mere 
chastisement, and for a short time only 
checked their insolence and rapacity. 

From that time to 1815 these people 
were almost constantly at war with one or 
more of the European nations. In 1655 
the English sent a large fleet into the Medi- 
terranean to avenge the honor of their flag, 
and to procure a dehverance of their prison- 
ers.' The fleet first came before Tunis, and a 
demand was made for the restoration of the 
captives. The Bashaw was not at all intim- 
idated, and made no other reply than to re- 
quest the Admiral to look at his forts and 
to do his utmost. The challenge was ac- 
cepted. He entered his harbor, burned his 
ships, battered down his castle, took away 
the English prisoners, and then sailed out 
of the harbor, leaving him to repent of his 

The French next had their turn, and in 
1682 sent a fleet under Admiral Duquesne 
against Algiers. On this occasion it is said 
that bombs were first used on ships of war. 
So destructive did they prove that the Dey 
soon yielded, and restored the captives, and 
made ample indemnity. The Dey, aftei> 
wards learning the great expense of the ex- 
pedition, sent word to Louis XIV. that for 
one half of the sum he would have burned 
the whole city of Algiers. 

All these expeditions against those States, 
of which twenty others might be mentioned, 
originated in the same way, and had nearly 
the same termination. The recovery of 
property and the deliverance of captives 
was the great object of them all ; and these 
being accomplished, a temporary peace 
would follow on the agreement of the in- 
jured party to pay an annual tribute. Uu' 
til our Government finally resolved to resist 
this badge of servitude, it had always been 
considered a necessary part of every treaty 
with them, and it seemed to be the only way 
which could then be adopted to protect the 
subjects of the sovereigns of Europe from 
slavery and robbery. At least the European 
nations thought so, and universally adopted 
it. Though every port of the Barbary States 
might have been blockaded, and the power 
of the Coi*sairs humbled, yet through 
jealousy of each other, or from the base de- 
sire of gaining some undue advantage, they 
preferred the humihating choice of paying 

tribute to these robbers. Never would these 
States make peace with all Europe at the 
same time. Peace with one was but the 
prelude of a war with another ; for said the 
Dey, " If I make peace with all the world, 
what shall I do with my corsairs? For 
want of other prizes they will take off my 
head. The Algerines are a company of 
rogues, and I am their captain." 

During our colonial history our relations 
with these powers were formed by Gr^ 
Britain, and our commerce in the Mediter- 
ranean, which at the time of the Revolution 
was considerable, was protected by the trib- 
ute which that government paid. During 
the Revolution we had no commerce in that 
quarter, and of course there was no oppor- 
tunity for aggression. No sooner was peace 
restored than our commerce revived, and our 
ships, bearing the new flag of stars and 
stnpes, made their appearance in that sea. 
They went there too without any convoy or 
means of defence, and from a country that at 
the close of the war of Independence had not 
a single armed ship to protect its infant but 
growing commerce. The temptation was too 
great for Algerine honesty, and the country 
too remote and too much exhausted to in- 
spire fear. The flag had not yet borae thun- 
ders to the gates of the Dey's palace, nor had 
his people learned the lesson which suboe- 
quent sad experience taught them. Accord- 
ingly the Dey made a formal declaration of 
war against the United States in July, 1*785, 
and immediately after two of our vessels, the 
schooner Maria, of Boston, and the ship 
Dauphin, of Philadelphia, were seized, and 
their crews, twenty-one in number, were car- 
ried as slaves to Algiers. The news of this 
outrage, as it well might, created great 
alarm in this country. The name of Alge- 
rine had become odious and synonymous 
with pirate. It was connected with every 
horrible tale of childhood, and was far more 
terrible in its associations tlian even the 
cruel tortures of the American savage. And 
what made it still more alarming was the 
fact that there were no means by which 
those citizens could be freed, or others pro- 
tected, but by the slow process of negotia- 
tion — negotiation too with a people that 
acknowledged no law but such as their own 
selfishness created, and were bound by no 
obligration but self-interest. 

This attack upon our conmierce was not 
I wholly unexpected. The importance and 


American Diplomacy with the Barhary Powere, 




SiKCE the conquest of Algiers by the 
French, the Barbary Powers have become 
wholly insignificant among the nations of 
the earth. They are \irtually blotted from 
the roll of nations, and are hardly known 
except through history. A half century ago 
they held an important position, and if they 
did Dot command the respect of all Europe, 
they certainly made claims and enforced 
them as no other civilized or half-civilized 
nation would have dared to do. In their 
diplomatic relations they were peculiar — 
setting at defiance the law of nations recog- 
nized by the civilized world, and adopting 
as their rule of action the piratical code. 
They were generally known by the name of 
Corsair States, — a name which they well 
earned by their piracies, cruelty and treach- 

It is not our purposo to give a particular 
•i— 4ription of these States. At tlie b<»gin- 
niiJir of tlie ])rosont century, the popu- 
lation eon>ist<-d of several distinct races of 
nj' n, Ixlii'vers in the Mohammedan reli- 
LHon, an<l ackn(>\vl('(lfrin<T a j)artial connec- 
tion with the Turkisli empire, thoiipfh acting 
in a irtxxl d«'C^ree independent of that gov- j 
•■nim«-nt. They had been MohamnK dan 
t*-r more than ten centuri(s, and for a 
v^ws^ I«'rio<l were the terror of all Europe.! 
Ttj«'y pushed their coiKjuests into Sj-ain, and j 
rfm:iin«-d the ])ossessors and mastei-s of a 
r-irti.»n of that country for several hundred, 
v-ar*, eont4'n<ling with the (^hristian, and \ 
.■v*teniptin<r to su])j»lant his religion. It was 
r.i.t till lh«- reign of Ferdinand and Isal)ella 
that the Moors were exj>elled from Spain 
fr ever, and that Kurope Ix^gan to feel that | 
M.)h;imm<dan power had extended to its | 
utnj««r»t limits. I 

It i-i not at all surprising that the constant 
w:irf ire Intwi-en the Christians and Moham- 
m*-d;uw h;ul en^at^'d a feeling of hostility be- , 
!\\...n t}i»*ni, which neither a sense of justiec 
CT liumanitv could control. At first it is 
rr« »b.'ibl«' tliat l)oth parties were alike regard- 
\^->^ of those rules of war which modern ' 

civilization have made imperative, and which 
may be regai-ded as comparatively humane. 
Both conducted like savages, and both dis- 
honored the religion they professed. No 
cruelties were too severe to inflict on the 
prisoners of either party. Christians were 
reduced to the most abject and cruel slavery^ 
while on the other hand Mohammedans 
were compelled to suiFer the severest tor- 
tures, and even death. But in this merciless 
warfare the Barbary States always had the 
advantage. They were well fitted for a pre- 
datory warfare. They found ample protec- 
tion both in their mode of life and the nat- 
ural position of their country. War was the 
means by which they lived, and though they 
were repulsed and their towns destroyed, yet 
they were never conquered. As soon as 
their enemies disappeared, they came forth 
from their hiding places, and were ready to 
plunder anew, and reduce their enemies to 

By this warfare a system of Christian 
slavery had grow n uj) in the Ixirl^ary States, 
which to us seems almost inerodible. 
Europeans were slaves to Africans, and 
drank to the dregs the bitter cup which 
such bondage imposed. AVhat nund>er of 
Christian slaves there were at any one time 
in those States we have now- no information. 
In the begimiing of the sixteenth century 
there were 30,000 emi)loyed in building the 
mole which connect'^ Algi<*rs with an island 
in its harbor; and at the destruction of Tunis 
in 1635, ten thousand were liberated by the 
army of Charles V. Tliey were engaged in 
the constniction of all the })u})lic works, and 
j)erformed the most severe as well jus servile 
tiisks. So grievous had it }>ecoine that all 
Euroj)e sutlered. Tlie lV)i)e oft'ered ])aidon 
to all who should undertaken a delive-rance to 
the caj)tives, and immediate entrance into 
paradise to all who fell in so laudable an 
undertaking. Tlie army of Charles V. con- 
sisted of 30,000 selected troops from C<»r- 
many, It-dy, and Spain, and in the destruc- 
tion of Tunis it aj)parently gain(?d a most 


American Diplomacy with the Baxhary Powen, 


decided victory. It however proved but 
temporary, and like a hundred other victo- 
ries over them, it proved to be but a mere 
chastisement, and for a short time only 
checked their insolence and rapacity. 

From that time to 1815 these people 
were almost constantly at war with one or 
more of the European nations. In 1655 
the English sent a large fleet into the Medi- 
terranean to avenge the honor of their flag, 
and to procure a deUverance of their prison- 
ers.' The fleet first came before Tunis, and a 
demand was made for the restoration of the 
captives. The Bashaw was not at all intim- 
idated, and made no other reply than to re- 
quest the Admiral to look at his forts and 
to do his utmost. The challenge was ac- 
cepted. He entered his harbor, burned his 
ships, battered down his castle, took away 
the English prisoners, and then sailed out 
of the harbor, leaving him to repent of his 

The French next had their turn, and in 
1682 sent a fleet under Admiral Duquesne 
against Algiers. On this occasion it is said 
that bombs were first used on ships of war. 
So destructive did they prove that the Dey 
soon yielded, and restored the captives, and 
made ample indemnity. The Dey, after- 
wards learning the great expense of the ex- 
pedition, sent word to Louis XIV. that for 
one half of the sum he would have burned 
the whole city of Algiers. 

All these expeditions against those States, 
of which twenty others might be mentioned, 
originated in the same way, and had nearly 
the same termination. The recovery of 
property and the deliverance of captives 
was the great object of them all ; and these 
being accomplished, a temporary peace 
would follow on the agreement of the in- 
jured party to pay an annual tribute. Un- 
til our Government finally resolved to resist 
this badge of servitude, it had always been 
considered a necessary part of every treaty 
with them, and it seemed to be the only way 
which could then be adopted to protect the 
subjects of the sovereigns of Europe from 
slavery and robbery. At least the European 
nations thought so, and universally adopted 
it Though every port of the Barbary States 
might have been blockaded, and the power 
of the Corsairs humbled, yet through 
jealousy of each other, or from the base de- 
sire of gaining some undue advantage, they 
preferred the humiliating choice of paying 

tribute to these robbew. Never would these 
States make peace with all Europe at the 
same time. Peace with one was but the 
prelude of a wai- with another ; for said the 
Dey, " If I make peace with all the world, 
what shall I do with my corsairs? For 
want of other prizes they will take oflF my 
head. The Algerines are a company of 
rogues, and I am their captain.'^ 

During our colonial history our relaticois 
with these powers were formed by 6r^ 
Britain, and our commerce in the Mediter- 
ranean, which at the time of the Revolution 
was considerable, was protected by the trib- 
ute which that government paid. During 
the Revolution we had no commerce in that 
quarter, and of course there was no oppw- 
tunity for aggression. No sooner was peace 
restored than our commerce revived, and our 
ships, bearing the new flag of stars and 
stripes, made their appearance in that sea. 
They went there too without any convoy or 
means of defence, and from a country that at 
the close of the war of Independence had not 
a single armed ship to protect its infant but 
growing commerce. The temptation was too 
great for Algerine honesty, and the country 
too remote and too much exhausted to in- 
spire fear. The flag had not yet borne thun- 
ders to the gates of the Dey's palace, nor had 
his people learned the lesson which subse- 
quent sad experience taught them. Accord- 
ingly the Dey made a formal declaration of 
war against the United States in July, 1785, 
and immediately after two of our vessels, the 
schooner Maria, of Boston, and the ship 
Dauphin, of Philadelphia, were seized, and 
their crews, twenty-one in number, were car- 
ried as slaves to Algiers. The news of this 
outrage, as it well might, created great 
alarm in this country. The name of Alge- 
rine had become odious and synonymous 
with pirate. It was connected with every 
horrible tale of childhood, and was far more 
terrible in its associations than even the 
cruel tortures of the American sa>'age. And 
what made it still more alarming was the 
fact that there were no means by which 
those citizens could be freed, or others pro- 
tected, but by the slow process of negotia- 
tion — negotiation too with a people that 
acknowledged no law but such as their own 
selfishness created, and were bound by no 
obligation but self-interest. 

Tills attack ujKjn our commerce was not 
wholly unexpected. The importance and 


American Diplomaey with the Barhary Powers, 


necessity of preserving peace with these 
States had been duly considered by our Gov- 
emment, and a special provision had been 
inserted in our treatv of alliance with France, 
by which the aid of that government was 
spcured for tliis object ; and during the pre- 
noas year, John Adams, Benjamin Frank- 
lin, and Thomas Jefferson, then residing in 
Europe, had been fully authorized to nego- 
tiate treaties with these powers, and to send 
agents there for this purpose. They did in 
fiict send agents to Morocco, who succeeded 
in obtaining a treaty of quite a tibcral charac- 
ter for that day. It provided that Christian 
slavery should be abolished, and that in case 
of war the prisoners of either party should be 
exchansred. It was concluded for the term 
of fifty years, and required neither tribute nor 
presentB to maintain it A change taking 
place soon after in the (jo\'emment, it was 
thought prudent by Congress to have it con- 
firmed, and twenty thousand dollars were 
accordingly appropriated for presents to the 
chief officers. This treaty was generally 
well observed by the Moors, who were en- 
couraged in the performance of their duty 
by vaJuable presents from our Government. 
At nearly the same time agents were sent 
*.«» Aliri»T«, not oiilv for tlio purposo of lu'go- 
ti'itin^ a trt'.'ity, but to obtain tli'' liln^ration 
• ■i til" tw«^T;t ,'H)n«^ pris<.)ii(Ts iM'foro inen- 
•■.li-ii. Thov liad ii')W Ikm'Ii in slav<Ty 
v->;;t :i v«'ar, an-l tliis \v:ls tln' Hi"st act of the 
<i»v -rnmt'Tjt to obtain tlwir lib>Tatit)n. Tli<'ir 
••M «-tr)rt> w»-r'' nia«l> to jmx'iirc a roloitso 
v*r t!i»' pri'^o^^'r-5. Th«*v liow<'v«'r soon foun<l 
•h;it th<» only nK>*b» of approach in lC the l)<'y 
w.t>i throiii^h an otf-T to pay a ransom in 
nvn»*v for the prisoners, an« I it SM)n became 
% m»T«' niattiT <»f ilollai's an<l c"nts whether 
n |-'opl.. wliich had sncces.^fully maintained 
1* in«l'-Tw*n«lence aixainst tlie most powerful 
:;iti.>n in tlie world should permit tweiity- 
"n'» t»f it- citi/.'-ns to wt-ar the chains of 
-:iv«rv in Al-ners. The iK-v kn<'W with 
'a',-.!:i h«^ was n.-'^otiatiiiLT- He knr'W tliat 
♦'; T" w;ls no American navy, tor at that 
r :n • ♦ '! 1 Ir'.»n-id-s jiad not bMii built, and 
*li" nani'-^ of liainbrid'^*', l)«/catur, an«l 
i''* jjad n'»t been |il;u:(l oil the roll of 
f. i\:il h.-HHS. lie kn.w too that tli -re was 
1 ri. h AiU'Ti-an eommiTc**, and that sine • 
h'- h:nl ina<l'* j»eac<; with most of Muroj)e, 
thi-» W'C.ild .'itiord ])riz»':^ f»)r his corsairs, lie 
)i.,wev.-r could not r«*fuso to set a j)rico on 
iiw j»rL*on^rs. lie c<^>uld ask a larg<.T sum, 

but he had too much respect for the opinion 
of the world to make the Americans an ex- 
ception to his general rule, and to entirely 
refuse a ransom. With most of the 
European nations a fixed and annual tribute 
was paid by the Government for the protec- 
tion of its citizens. France then paid an 
annual tribute of one hundred thousand 
dollars, and Great Britain, the boasted mis- 
tress of the seas, paid three hundred thou- 
sand dollars, besides a large amount in the 
distribution of presents every ten years ; and 
even these largo sums did not always afford 
protection, for during this very year several 
French captives were redeemed for five hun- 
dred dollars each. 

The price which the Dey demanded for 
the American prisoners, sho^vs with what 
views he regarded our countrymen. The 
captives consisted of three captains, two 
mates, two passengers, and fourteen sea- 
men. The price for each captain t^as six 
thousand dollars; for the mates and pas- 
sengers fo\u' thousand each; and for the 
seamen fourteen hundred dollars each ; and 
to this was to bo added the custom house 
duty of eleven per cent., making in all 
sixty thousand dollars, or upon an average 
twenty-eight Imndred dollai-s each, whilo 
the a^riMits were authorize. d to pay only 
two liundred doUai-s. 

Under tliese, circiunstances, they found 
tiieir undertakinj^ ho]»el»-is, and acc<)rdinLrlv 
abandoned all idea of redeemin;^^ th»* prison- 
ers by a ransom. 

After this, four y»ars ])a'^sod without tlie 
adoption of any open nu':i>ures for the de- 
liverance of the captives. ('>ur (ioV(.'rnmont 
seemed inclined to abandon dinn't neixt^tia- 
tion, and to adopt a course of })olicy that at 
t]i<' j)resent tim«' does not seem to <io it 
nnich credit. There is c<'rtainly some plau- 
sibility in th<' arixuments in support c^f this 
cour-«* of proce»'<linL;. It was said that if so 
lari^e a sum was paid for th«' ran^.m of 
the-e prisoU'-r-, it would only tnd to hold 
out still stroU'^cr induci-m-'nts to these 
pirat'> to pr.-y upt»n our c >nnn'yc • aul ii.ako 
slavc-i of our cil!/,"n-, and that our only 
S'-cuii(v was in convineinix th«'m that v.*,' were 
j>o>r, and unable to pay any ran-om what- 
ever. It s»<-ms to u^ how«'ver that nothiiiL; 
C')\il(l ju^tity i)\\Y (Iov«'rnment in this pubvy 
but extreni" n'.'c.'ssitv. It mu-t b .• confessed 
that this was ou'.^ of, if not the ni)4 trying, 
periods of our history. The Statjs La<l not 


American DlplomoLcy with the Barharg Powers, 


then adopted our present Constitution, but 
lived under the old Confederation, which in 
its latter days was but a little more than the 
shadow of a government. Its treasury was 
empty, its credit gone, and a very general 
apprehension existed that its dissolution was 
near at hand. But still, could the whole 
people of the country have been awakened 
to the unhappy condition of their fellow-men, 
wasting away their lives in servitude, and 
dying in a foreign land, there would have 
been found means for their deliverance ; and 
how much more creditable and humane it 
would have been to have paid that or any 
other sum, and trusted in the providence of 
God, that for the future the oppressor's hand 
should be stayed. 

We have said that the Government took 
no open measures for the deliverance of the 
prisonei-s during these four years. It did 
not however wholly forget them. The cries, 
complaints and petitions of their friends would 
not permit it. It abandoned all hope of open 
negotiation. Through the agency of Mr. 
Jefferson, a religious association was secretly 
employed to obtain their release. This 
association was called Brothers of Redemp- 
tion, or the Mathurin Fathers. This asso- 
ciation wivs established as early as the 
twelfth century, and its chief object was 
the redemption of Christian captives in the 
Barbary States, and it had an officer constant- 
ly af Algiers for that purpose. How much 
our Government authorized the Mathurin 
General to pay we have no means of in- 
formation. It however appears that extra- 
ordinary efforts were made to get the sum 
as small as possible. It was even thought 
necessary to use some deception in order 
to accomplish this object. One of our con- 
suls abroad at that time says : " In order to 
destroy every expectation of a redemption 
by the United SUites, the bills of the 
Spanish Consul at x\lgiers, who had made 
the kind advances for the sustenance of our 
captives, were not answered. On the contra- 
ry, a hint was given that the advances had 
better bo discontinued, as it was not known 
that they would be reimbursed. It was neces- 
sary to go further, and to suff3r the captives 
for a while to believe that no attention was 
paid to them, and that no notice was taken 
of their letups. It would have been unsafe 
to trust them with a secret which might 
for ever prevent their redemption, by raising 
the demands of the captors to sums which 

a due regard for our seamen still in freedom 
forbid us to give." 

While these cautious and dilatory nego- 
tiations were going on, the revolution in 
France broke out, and among its rash results 
was the suppression of the Brothers of Re- 
demption, and the confiscation of their entare 
property, so that from them neither the 
captives nor the country could expect further 

Six years had now passed, and the cap- 
tives found no rehef. They occasionally 
\vrote their friends at home, and even sent 
a petition to Congress imploring aid. Dur- 
ing this period six of the twenty-one had 
died. At home the old confederation had 
passed away, and a new government had been 
adopted by the people for their common 
safety, and to provide for their common 
defence. It now seemed impossible to long- 
er turn a deaf ear to the cries of the en- 
slaved. Accordingly in February, 1791, the 
Senate of the United States authorized, by 
resolution, the President to take such meas- 
ures as he thought expedient to procure the re- | 
demption of the American citizens in Algiers, 
pronded the expense of the same should 
not exceed forty thousand dollars. 

In reply to this resolution. General Wash- 
ington expressed his wiUingness and anxious 
desire to concur with the Senate in all rea- 
sonable and proper measures to accomplish 
said object. 

Soon after the passage of this resolution, 
a letter was received by Congress from Cap- 
tain O'Brien, dated Algiers, Feb. 28, 1791. 
He was the master of the ship Dauphin, 
and appears to have been a man of great 
intelligence and energy of character. He 
was regarded by the captives as their leading 
man during their sojourn at Algiers. His 
letter gives a pretty full account of their con- 
dition. He says : " It affords the Americans in 
captivity some consolation to hear that- His 
Excellency the President has drawn the 
attention of Congress to Barbary affairs, and 
to consider the decrease of American com- 
merce to the Mediterranean. I take the lib- 
erty to observe that there is no doing any 
business in this country of importance, 
without first palming the ministry ; and by 
taking this proper channel, that there is no. 
great difficulty to carry any point At present 
there are but seven hundred Christian slaves 
in Alters, and as the captives are much 
wanted to do the public work, the Regency 


American Diplomacy vdth the Barhary Powers. 


does not seem inclined to pennit slaves to 
be redeemed on any tenns; for without 
slaves these people could not well fit out 
their cruisers. 

"In 1786 there were three thousand 
Christian slaves in Algiers ; but the Spaniards, 
Neapohtans and other nations redeeming 
their people, and the pest, that great storm 
of mortality, which happened in this city in 
1787 and 1788, which carried off nine 
hundred Christian captives, among which 
number were six Americans. Our redemp- 
tion is but trifling higher than the terms on 
which the Spaniards and other nations 
redeemed, and since those redemptions and 
the pest, the price of slaves is constantly 

"The lads, who are pages to the Dcy, 
were sohcited to turn Mohammedans, but 
they would not, which makes their price 
more exorbitant. 

" It has cost Spain full four and a half mil- 
lions of dollars to make then* peace and re- 
deem their people — notwithstanding Spain 
acted something wisely not to be the dupe of 
all the commercial nations of Europe. 

" It is my opinion that the United States 
may obtain a peace with the Regency for 
fifty or sixty thousand pounds sterling, all 
expenses included, that is, if the aftkir is 
well managed, and with Tunis for fifteen 
thousand pounds sterling. 

'* The present time is favorable to America 
to try for peace ; and I further take tlic lib- 
erty to observe that tliose nations, the Dutch, 
Danes, Swedes, and Venetians, that pay a 
tribute annually, that their peace is on a 
more solid and lastin<j: basis than those 
nations that give large sums for making the 
peace, and not to l>e tributary ; for it is the 
annual sum that these nations pay, which 
is the bait that secures their peace, and not 
any sentiment of national honor or regard 
to treaties, but for their own interest in being 
supplied with naval and military stores." 

He concludes his letter by saying : " We 
hope you will consider what our sufferings 
must have been in this country during that 
trying period of nearly six years' capti\ity ; 
but we hope you will give such powers to 
your representatives as to finally extricate 
your fourteen unfortunito subjects from 
their present state of bondage and adversity." 
Just previous to tlie date of this letter, 
one of the captives, Charles Co veil, was 
redeemed by his friends for $1,700. 

Congress had passed resolutions, and a 
whole year had passed, yet nothing effec- 
tual was done. President AVashington 
proposed to the Senate to conclude a treaty 
with Algiers, allowing forty thousand dol- 
lars as a ransom : twenty-five thousand dol- 
lars to be given to the Dey on the signature 
of the treaty, and twenty-five thousand dollars 
as an annu^ present or tribute. John Paul 
Jones was appointed the commissioner to 
negotiate the peace. This measure was kept 
secret, and of so confidential a character 
that all the papers were in the hand- 
writing of Mr. Jefferson, then Secretary of 
State. Jones having soon after died in 
London, Mr. Barclay was appointed his 
successor ; but he did not live to execute 
his commission, and in consequence another 
delay necessarily took place. In the mean- 
time the Algerines having made peace with 
Portugal, and the protection which that war 
and her ships partially afforded having been 
withdrawn, our commerce became more ex- 
posed than ever ; and at a single cruise of 
the Algerine corsaii*s in November, 1793, ten 
more of our vessels were seized, and their 
crews, one hundred and ^\q in number, 
were carried captives to Algiers. 

It was fortunate for those who had already 
been in bondage eight years, that the num- 
ber of American prisoners had been so 
nmch increased, for it aroused the country 
to a sense of its duty. The prisoners imme- 
diately addressed a petition to Congress, 
dated Dec. 29, 1793, in which they say : 
" Your humble petitioners had the misfortune 
to be caj)tured by the corsairs of the Regency 
in November last, while we were navigat- 
ing vessels belonging to the United States, 
and are at present in this city of bondage, 
employed daily in the most lal)orious work 
witliout respect to pei'sons ; and your peti- 
tioners are informed that the phigue, that 
fatal and tremendous disorder, is raging 
in the country adjacent ; and Jis your unfor- 
tunate petitionee are confined to the slave 
prisons with six hundred captises of other 
nations, that from their situjition the wis- 
dom of the United Stixtes will consider what 
must l>e the fatal effects of the plague 
spreading amongst the captives." 

About this time Conm*ess seemed dis- 
posed to adopt new measures of negotiation 
with Algiei-s. They sent their agents as 
before to treat amicably, if they could, but 
at the same time there was a determination 


American Diplomacy with the Barhary Powers, 


to adopt measures of force. The country 
began to perceive that a commerce without 
a navy could not exist, or be carried to any 
gi-eat extent. Accordingly, on the 2d of Jan- 
uary, 1794, the Ilouse of Representatives 
resolved, " that a naval force adequate to the 
protection of the commerce of the United 
States against the Algerino corsairs ought 
to be provided ;" and duiing the same year 
the President was autliorized to cause six 
frigates to be built, and ten smaller vessels 
to be equipped as galleys. Only three of 
these frigates were built, nz., the Constitu- 
tion, the United States, and the Constella- 
tion ; for peace having been soon after con- 
cluded, it was thought unnecessary to carry 
into full effect the original design. Enough 
however had been done to lay a foundation 
for our navy ; and to the insolence of Algiers 
we owe this right arm of our national 
strength, and to their subsequent treachery 
we owe the first opportunity of testing the 
strength of those ships, and the skill, brav- 
ery, and gallantry of their commanders. It 
seemed to be but a just retribution, that the 
people whose crimes brought our n&vy into 
existence should feel the first proof of its 
strength, and that on the very spot from 
which armed corsairs went forth to plunder 
American commerce, an American fleet 
with a voice of thunder should have dic- 
tated to the Dcy the terms on which he 
could save his capital, and even his own 
palace, from destruction. 

The treaty which we made with Algiers 
was of a truly humiliating character ; but 
inasnmch as it restored all the captives to 
their homes, and gave the country peace, it 
was a source of joy and congratulation. It 
cost the nation more than a million of dol- 
lar, besides the payment of an annual trib- 
ute in naval stores of twenty-one thousand 
dollars. Yet with all its cost, it was never 
a matter of regret, for it restored a valuable 
commerci,' for our country to the Mediterra- 
nean. Tills tribute wiis paid for seventeen 
years, and it would have been paid many 
yeai*s more?, had not the Dey in an unfor- 
tunate hour, for the }>urpose of obtaining 
hciior tonn>, the second time declared war 
against tlui United Slates. Tliis war, as we 
shall see, not only cost him this tribute, but 
was the lii-st in that series of events which 
led not only to his own humihation, but to 
the conquest of his country. 

At about the same time Tripoli began to 

assume a warlike attitude. By the treaty 
of 1796 there was no provision for the pay- 
ment of tribute, but so interwoven was this 
system witli those |>eople that it was found 
impossible to keep them at {>eaco without a 
constant tender of presents. In 1797, the 
presents which our Government made to this 
power cost twelve thousand dolhirs, and 
about double the amount was given the fol- 
lowing year. " All nations pay me," said 
the Bashaw, "so must the Americans. Let 
them give me a stipulated sum, and I will be 
reasonable as to the amount" He further 
complained that our Government had been 
more generous to Algiers than to him, and 
in order to avenge so grievous a wrong, he 
made a formal declaration of war. 

This war continued for three years, and 
was distinguished not only by the remarka- 
ble expedition of Eaton, but by several na- 
val exploits highly honorable to our infiint 
navy, and to the gallantry and courage of 
its youthful officers. At the . treaty d 
peace, our Government again consent^ to 
the payment of tribute. It was perhaps 
wise at that time to do so. It was not then 
regarded as a badge of humihation. And 
we were not then prepared to take the high 
ground, which tlie justice of our cause 
seemed to demand. Our Government had 
as much as it could do to protect our com- 
merce in other quarters. The great ques- 
tions as to the rights of neutrals, wnich 
grew out of the wars of Europe, had already 
begun to agitate the commercial world, and 
many an x\merican ship had been seized 
by the belligerents, and held as a hostage 
to insure a fair settlement. 

After this, our country remained at peace 
with all the Barbary powers till 1812. 
Each of them received an annual tribute, 
and a generous supply of naval stores. Our 
commerce, though subject to great ombar^ 
rassments, had been nmch increased in the 
Mediterranean, and, so far as related to the 
Barbary States, was enjoying perfect secu- 

But our war with Great Britain in 1812 
brought about a new condition of things. 
It beaime ditficult for our Government to 
supply the naval stores, which by treaty we 
were bound to ftirnish, on account of the 
great danger from British cruisers then 
guarding and shutting us out of the Medi- 
terranean. Our Government offered to pay 
the value of the naval stores in money, but 


American Diptonuicy with the Barbary Powers, 


this was refused, for the simple reason that 
the naval stores had been usually appraised 
for about half their value. They however 
did not come, and as a consequence the 
Dey of Algiers declared war a second time 
against the United States. 

This dcclaratioiv was of but little conse- 
quence to us. We were then at war with 
Great Britain, and had no commerce within 
th^- reach of the Algerine corsairs. Our 
Gpvemment did not regard it as of suffi- 
cient importance to even recognize them as 
enemies. The only notice taken was to 
stop the tribute and to treat them with en- 
tire neglect But the day of retribution 
was at hand. At the close of the war with 
Great Britain in. 1815, we had a powerful 
navy, which that war had created, and 
which had then become the pride of the 
country. There was a universal desire 
through the countiy that Algiers should be 
made to feel its power. Accordingly Con- 
gress directed a fleet, under the command 
of the g^ant- Decatur, to be sent to the 
Mediterranean. It arrived oflf Algiers early 
in June, 1815, and without delay appeared 
before the city, prepared to use such argu- 
ments as would carry conviction, if not fear, 
to the mind of the Dey. 

To him and his people the appearance of 
such a fleet was wholly unexpected. It 
was the first indication of resLstince — ^and a 
pretty formidable one too. A communica- 
tion was sent to the Dey, informing him 
that commissioners on board were ready to 
negotiate a peace on terms of perfect equal- 
ity, and without the payment of any tribute 
whatever, and at the same time demanding 
an immediate answer. There was no alter- 
native for the Dey. In case of refusal, the 
destruction of the city was certain. He 
accordingly agreed to negotiate on the 
trems proposed, and in fact to abandon all 
the peculiar claims which that Government 
had so long and invariably made. A treaty 
was then concluded, which was subsequently 
ratified by our Government, and conse- 

quently the war was brought to a close. 
Afterwards some dispute arose between the 
Dey and our Government as to the con- 
struction of the treaty, and the Dey wrote a 
letter to the President of the United States, 
setting forth his views. To this the Presi- 
dent made no reply ; and the new difficul- 
ties, which the Dey was called to meet in 
the following year, caused him to abandon 
his claims, and to leave the treaty with the 
construction which our Government gave it 
This was the last controversy which our 
Government had with the Barbary States. 
The attack of the allied squadron under 
Lord Exmouth, in 1816, nearly destroyed 
their power, and made them afterwards 
comparatively harmless. They no longer 
made themselves the aggressors upon the 
commerce of the world, but submitted qui- 
etly to the fate which seemed even then to 
await them. After the abolition of Chris- 
tian slavery and the system of paying tribute, 
they ceased to be formidable, and seemed to 
have lost the whole power which they had 
so constantly and cruelly exercised for cen- 
turies. While tribute was paid, they had 
tlie means of making •. war upon Christian 
nations ; and while prisoners were ran- 
somed at high prices, there was no want 
of inducements to make them. The whole 
system, as it existed prior to 1815, was noth- 
ing more or less than a system of piracy, 
sanctioned by the silent a&sent, if not by pos- 
itive agreement of every nation of Christen- 

Our Government had the honor of taking 
the lead in .this reform, and made the first 
decisive njovement in sui)port of it. It was 
a refonji demanded by the advancing ci>ih- 
zation of the nineteenth century; and the 
readiness .with which all the European na- 
tions discarded the old system shows with 
what abhorrence they in fact regarded it. 
Its long continuance may be ascribed io 
their jealousy of each other, and their con- 
stant attempts to use it for the purpose of 
gaining some commercial advant£^e. 



Autobiography of Leigh Hunt 



With no poet of the nineteentli century 
do we feel ourselves more familiarly ac- 
quainted than with Leigh Hunt ; and that, 
without reading so much ,as half of all that 
he has written, or receiving, even from what 
we have read, a pleasure the highest or 
most enduring. But there is something in 
the name^ so frequently mentioned among 
his literary associates, and more in his own 
once frequent and friendly greetings. In 
short, his free conversational style affects us 
like the cordial countenance of a person whom 
meeting for the first time, we forget, after 
half an hour's chit-chat, that we have not 
known him all our hves. No one hears 
the name of Leigh Hunt without a smile of 
recognition ; and an alla«*ion to his " Feast 
of the Poets" is sure to call up the recollec- 
tion of some favorite couplet With men 
of genius, liis contemporaries, B3rron, Words- 
worth, Coleridge and Moore, though we have 
held (as who has not ?) deHghted intercourse, 
there is no such familiar recognition. To 
«peak of Hunt as a poet among these may 
be deemed irregular, the critics having 
ranked him long since with the minors. 
EBs poetry, indeed, is not of that noble 
stamp which elevates while it charms, and 
hallows every object that it touches ; but 
trifling and even coxcombical as he frequently 
becomes, there is a cheerful humanitv about 
him, a bright, playful • wit, which bears us 
forward as it were with a sympathetic in- 
fluence, catching refinements from his deli- 
<»te fancies, grooving merry with his mirth, 
and witty >vith liis bon mots ; and we leave 
him at last in si mood as genial and ani- 
mated as after a game of romps with chil- 
dren in the hay fields. 

The secret of Hunt's power lies in the 
ultra-sympathetic sensibility which he learn- 
ed of his mother, and the natural cheerful- 
ness which ho inherited from his father, 
assisted by his education at Christ's Hospital, 

where a fellow-feeling unites the community 
as with one heart Of this school, judging 
from Charles Lamb's description of it, the pe- 
cuhar tendency is favorable to the expansion 
of the best feelings, and superinduces two 
most important elements of poetry — ^rever- 
ence and love. Hunt's muse has no vagaries, 
but is always cheerftil and compUant. He 
delays not, like Coleridge, for the storm or 
other cause to swell the current of his verse, 
nor does it ever become, like his, the mighty 
river rolling onward to the ocean and reflect- 
ing the broad heavens. Hunt's genius is 
not the " giant element " hke Byron's, leap- 
ing " the headlong height," and shaking the 
abyss. Neither does he, like Wordsworth, 
brood over his subject to the exclusion of 
what suggested it, concentrating within him- 
self the strong poetic power till a fitting oc- 
casion to give out its fertihzing streams. 
His fancies spring up in jets continually, 
clear and distinct, and sprinkling with their 
dropping freshness whatever they can reach. 
Of all that he touches, we realize the pres- 
ence; and he throws over it a descriptive 
elegance and grace, caasing it to "glisten 
with Hvelier ray," just as he convert^ liis 
English prison into a bower of roses be- 
neath Italian skies, — literally covering its 
bare with flowers, and singing amidst them 
hke a bird. His descriptions are always 
graphic, and in those of rural scenery he 
verifies his own couplet : 

" And when you listen you may hear a coil 
Of bubbling spring about the grassier aoiL'* 

It was chiefly as a critic and free-spoken 
pohtician that, in England, Hunt became 
remarkable. He was the first who took an 
independent stand in theatrical criticism, 
and among the boldest of those who in the 
closing reign of George III. dared openly 
to condemn the course adopted by the 
Prince llegent The criticisms created him 

• Autobiography of Leigh Hunt; with Reminiscencea of Friends and Contemporariea. New- 
York : Harper & Brothers. 


Autobiography of Leigh Hunt, 


a host of enemies, for which ho was com- 
pensated by the acquisition of as many 
friends ; the political jirticles condemned 
liim to a two years* imprisonment. He 
comes before us now, in the decline of his 
eventful life, ^vith a claim upon our kindest 
reciprocities which wo heartily acknowledge. 
Somebody has said tliat *' literary men talk 
less than they did." We are happy to see 
that our old friend has lost none of his 

Eleasant garrulity, and wo gladly welcome 
im to his old place at our fireside to call 
up the reminiscena^s of " auld lang syne." 
AVe wish he did not make so many excuses 
for presenting his autobiography. Diffidence 
does not sit natiu-ally at all upon Leigh Hunt. 
This hesitation is not genuine : these apolo- 
gies, and this long account of whys and where- 
fores, must have been superinduced by some 
pretty severe critical thrusts at that habit of 
talking to the reader in his own |)erson, and 
comparing notes with him by imi)lication on 
all sorts of ][K^rsonal subjects, to which he freely 
acknowledges he has all his hfctime accus- 
tomed himself. Uis own sincerity naturally 
made him confident in that of others, and 
such good faith in an author rarely fails to 
iasure the accordance of the remler. Hunt 
knows this, and no sooner gets dear of his 
preface, than he falls back into his own un- 
affected and sprightly freedom, and morc;- 
over — for we must say it — into his own old 
ejifotisticid habit. 

The Autobiognij>hy, as it now a[)peai*s, is 
a revision, but includes some lott<'i*s never 
before pubhshe<l, and several articles which 
have only ap[>earcd in the Exam'nicr^ and 
arc. new to most readers. The whole work, 
jndeed, the author thinks may be new to 
the present reading gt»neration, and interest- 
ing, inasmuch as times have altored, and 
writei-s are willingly heard now who would 
not have l)een listened to thirty or forty yeai*s 
ago. This is likely to bo esj)Ocially true 
in his case, whose matured judgment has 
dictated the a(!knowl«*dgin('nt of former 
errors of opinion, and who, whil" with frank- 
ness lie stfit -s the ori<xin of those opinions 
and their change, illustrates th<Mn with racy 
anecdotes both of himself and the literati of 
his day, with most of ^vhom he was on terms 
of intimacy, or in some way connected. 

When an author candidly acknowledges 
vanity and other faults, and the mistjikes in 
his fife consequent thereon, we lose all 
heart to upbraid him ; we are wilHng to 

hear him talk a great deal about himself 
for the sake of the lesson of his exj)erieuce, 
provided he does it in gooil faith : provided 
we are not obliged to swallow the whole, we 
can even relish a difc»h of egotism, prepared 
with the seasoning of such rich and spicy 

I^rought by his position, as editor of the 
Examiner^ to take an active part in the 
public events of the period. Hunt was ac- 
customed to see men in their public rela- 
tions with society, and to take an enlarged 
view of its operations. Thus his volume, 
predicated upon long and wide exj>erience, 
affords, in the matter of the very errors it 
unfolds, subject for reflection as well as en- 
tertainment, and we shall oft'or our readers 
no apology for the lai'ge extracts we intend 
presenting to them. 

Upon the biography proper, as having 
been already before the public, we shall en- 
large but slightly. 

The family of Hunt laid no claim to high 
ancestral honors. Our author takes the 
main stock to have been mercantile, and is 
even of opinion that Hunt is (juite a plebeian 
name. His father, the son of a clergyman 
in 13arbadoes, was educated in Philadeljihia, 
and practised law there up to the time of 
the Revolution, when, by his Tory princi- 
ples and loyalist pamphlets and speeches, ho 
drew upon himself the po}»ular odium, and 
tbnnd it expedient to withdraw as secretly 
and speedily as j^ossible from his countiy. 
His wife, following nearly three years later, 
found her husband transferred from the 
bar to the pulpit, where his fine voice, 
agreeable declamation, and handsome per- 
son, together with his charity sermons, 
(against which, to the good man's as- 
tonishment, Uishop Lowth remonstrated,) 
acquired for him a great ])oj>ularity. His 
sermons beinor ehieflv remarkable for ele- 
gance of diction and graceful morality, 
the delivery wa^ their principal charm. ** I 
remember," says his son, " when he camo 
to that ]art of the Litany where the reader 
])rays for his deliverance *in the hour of 
death and fit the day of judgment,' he used 
to make a pause after the vvord * death,' and 
drop his voice on the* rest of the sentence. 
The effect was striking ; but repetition must 
have hurt it. I am afraid it was a little the- 
atrical." The ll<^verend Mr. Hunt j=cem^> to 
have delighted over much in the pleasures 
of the tiible, and, with all his jopularity, 

36 AutMo^aphy of Leigh Hunt Jan. 

found it difficult to make his way in the Ameiicans. A likeness has been discovered 

Church, more especially as, being of a specu- between as and some of the Indians in his 

lative turn, he had taken up some modifica- pictures." Hunt describes his mother as 
tion of church opinions. Through the in- 
fluence of '' Poi>e and Swift's Duke of . " -^ gentle wife, 

confidence in no ordinary degree," Mr. Ilunt 

obtained a pension of one hundred pounds The fatigue of the tired husband probably 
a year, which however he was obhged to arose fi-om reading and smoking. Mrs. 
mortgaire, and he continued for several years Hunt was a Universalist and almost a Re- 
in a condition of great pecuniary embarrass- publican ; somewhat intolerant, but only in 
ment. ^^le grew deeply acquainted with theory, her charity always running before 
prisons, and began to lose his graces and her fiith. She was fond of poetry, and en- 
his good name." Nevertheless Tie left no couraged her sou's pereeverance and vanity 
poor inheritance to his children in his ani- i>y treasuring up his verses and showing 
mal spirits, and independent mode of think- them to his friends. 

ing. Many years before his death he re- Leigh Hunt was bom in 1784, at South- 

laxed so far in his rehgious tenets as to be- gate, a village lying on a road running 

come a Universalist. He had the art of from Edmonton, through Enfield Chase, 

making his home comfortable, and setthng into Hertfordshire, which he shows to be 

himself to the most tranquil pleasures. classical ground, and associated with the 

best days of English genius, both old and 

** We thus struggled on between quiet and dis- j^^^ 
turbauce, between placid readings and frightful 

knocks at the door and sickrie^ and calamity, « Edmonton is the birth-place of Marlowe, the 

and hciKJs, which hardly ever forsook u& So ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ j^,^,^^^ ^^ of friend Home, his 

sanguine was my father m his mtcntions to the congenial celebrator. In Edmonton church-yard 

la:st,and so accustonied had my mother been to jj^^ c\^\^% Lamb; in Highgate church-yard, 

try to believe in him. and to persuade herself 8he Colcridge : and in Hampstead have resided Shel- 

did, that not long before she died he made the j ^j y^^^ ^ nothing of Akenside before 

m<h.t t^olemn promises of amendment, which by ^^ ^^ ^^ g^^^l^ ^^d Arbutlinot before Aken- 

chance I could not help overhearmg, and which ^jjgw 
she received with a tenderness and a tone of joy, 

the remembrance of which brings the tears mto Que of the earUest sketches in Mr. Hunt's 

my eyes. My father had one taste well suited to ^^j^ -^ ^^^^ ^f j^jg M\iqx'^ friend the Rev. 

his proiession. lie was very fond ot sermons, ^7. it n^ • i i. i xi a'^i 

wliirh he was rarely tired of reading or my W. M. Innder, who was also, as the title 

mother of hearing. page of a volume of sermons declares, 

" It is a i)ity my father had been so spoilt a LL.B. and M.D. IIow the doctor combined 

child, and had .-trayed so much out of hU sphere ; j^ his person the three professions of law, 

S'tX:!;\lf rS'tV^^hl^'tain^d^^^^^ l%-« -<1 ^^-^ - -^ informed, 

fashi<»n(.fHm..king. He indulged m it every night but Himt suggestively sigmhes that the 

before he wtut to bed, which he did at an early triplicity might have arisen from a philaii- 

hour ; and it was pleasant to see him sit, in his thropic disposition, and that law and medi- 

tranquil ami gentlcnianly manner and relate imcc- ^.^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^ ^ ^j^^ paramount profession 
dotes (»f 'My h^rd North, and the Rockingham i? j- • ., /» xi ai. x csi n 

administration, interspersed with those mild puffii of divimty for the same reason that Shelley 

and urbane resumptions of the pipe." was led to walk the hospital, — for the pur- 
pose of doing good among the jKK)r. One of 

With tlie discursive talent of his father, Trinder's sermons, " On Cruelty," condemns 

Hunt inlierited tlie kindness and candor of the gentle craft of anglers, which gives oc- 

his mother's nature. She was an Ameri- casion to our autobiographer to enlarge very 

can, and her son bore in his personal ap- agreeably and sensibly ui)on that subject, 

pearanoe the proof of liia American descent. Though many brave and good men have 

" The late Mr. West," he says, " told me been anglers, he thinks their goodness would 

that if he had met myself or any of my bro- have been more complete, and their bravery 

thers in the streets, he should have pro- of a more generous sort, had they abstained 

nounced, >vithout knowing us, that we were from pi-ocuring themselves pleasure at the 


Autobioffraphy of Leigh Hunt. 


expense of a needless infliction. It was 
formerly thought effeminate not to hunt 
Jews — ^then, not to roast heretics — then, 
not to bait bears and bulls — then, not to 
fight cocks ; all which evidences of manhood 
came gradually to be looked upon as no 
evidences at all. He has not found anglers 
or sportsmen in general braver than others, 
but on the contrary, that they make a great 
fuss if they hurt their fingers, while all their 
reasonins: in favor of the amusement is dis- 
ingenuous and selfish. 

"As to old Tzaak Walton, who is put forward as 
a substitute for ar^ment on this question, and 
whose sole merits consisted in his having a taste 
for nature and his heing a respectable citizen, tlie 
trumping him up into an authority and a kind of 
saint is a burlesauc. He was a writer of conven- 
tionaUties ; who naving comfortably feathered his 
nest, as he tliought, both in this worhl and in the 
world to come, concluded he h;id nothing more to 
do than to amuse himself bv putting worms on a 
hook and fish into his stomach, and so go to heaven; 
chuckling and singing psalms. Tliero would be 
something in such a man and in his book offen- 
sive to a real piety, if that piety did not regard 
whatever has happened in tlie world, great and 
small, with an eye that makes the best of what is 
perplexing, and trusts to eventual good out of the 
worst Walton was not the hearty and thorough 
advocate of nature he is supposed to have been. 
There would have been something to say for him 
on that score, had he looked upon the sum of evil 
as a thing not to be diminished. But he shared 
the opinions of the mo-^t commonplace believers 
in sin and trouble, and only congratulated himself 
on being exempt from their conseouences. The 
overweening old man found himself comfortably 
oflf somehow ; and it is good that he did. It is a 
comfort to all of us, wise or foolish. But to rever- 
ence him is a jest. You might as well make a 
god of an otter. Mr. Wordsworth, iKicause of the 
servitor manners of Walton and his biographies of 
divines, (all avylem^ wrote an idle line about his 
• meekness ' and his 'heavenly memory.' When 
this is quoted by the gentle brethren, it will he as 
well if they add to it another passage from the 
same poet, which returns to the onlv point at issue, 
and upsets the old gentleman altogether. Mr. 
Wordsworth's admonition fo us is, 

* Never to link our passion, or our pride. 
With suffering to tlie meanest thing that lives.' " 

Leigh Runt was naturally sensitive to 
impressions of awe and fear. In his child- 
hood he wa^ fnghteued with ghastly pictures 
in story books, and particularly of one called 
the Mantichora, with the head of a man and 
the body of a bea-^t ; " the same animal 
which figures in Pliny, and which the an- 
cients called Martichora." It was fortunate 
for him that the cheerful views he had 

received upon the subject of religion, and 
his own cheerful temperament in general, 
were a check upon the bad effect of all this. 
We learn from Lamb, who suffered equally 
under nervous terrors, that Hunt took wani- 
ing from his early experience, and was 
careful to exclude from his own children 
every taint of superstition. Yet, " It is not,*' 
says Elia, " books, nor pictures, nor stories 
of foolish servants which create teiTore in 
children. These can, at most, but give them 
a direction. Dear little T. H., (Thornton 
Ilunt,) who was never allowed to hear of 
goblin or apparition, or scarcely to bo told 
of bad men, or to read or hear any distress- 
ing story, finds all this world of tear, from 
which he has been so rigidly excluded, ah 
extra, in his own 'thick coming fancies;' 
and from his httle midnight pillow, this 
nurse-child of optimism \^ill start at shapes, 
unborrowed of tradition, in sweats to which 
the reveries of the cell-damned murderer 
are tranquillity." 

This is so poetical a theory that we are loath 
to combat it; but it must be said that com- 
mon observation is opposed to it. No doubt 
the ** chimeras dire" which pervade the 
brain of superstition are there before they 
indicate thems^elves, but they are there only 
through some yet earlier and unj«uspectod 
impression, received silently — unconsciously 
perhaps, and brought into action through 
association. The very mistakes which a child 
makes in the meaning of a word may be 
sufficient to plant the seeds of terror. A 
picture may indicate a mystery, and even so 
much cultivation of the imagination as is 
necessary to sympathy, or to render refined 
language intelligibk', may, by the merest 
accident, result in a superstitious enthusiasm. 

Who can sav what subtle awncies, im-- 
possible for the most watchful parent to 
guard against ; what words, looks or tones 
engender dreams that haunt the pillow of a 
child ? Had " little T. H." no hours of play 
with other children? Did his ])arents never, 
even out of their veiy guardedness, allude 
obscuroly in his presence to forbidden subject*^, 
or awaken his attention by sudd<*nly chock- 
ing the discussion ? Did he never hear his 
father read that 

" What inemrd a head 
Tlie likeness of a kingly crown had on ;'* 

or of 

" Dftnger, T^hose limhs of giant mould 
No mortal eye can fixed behold ?** 


Autobiography of Leigh Sunt. 


This child, who was never allmced to read 
or hear a story of distress, might he, by no 
po^ible accident J liave heard sung, only 
once perhaps, and tlieroforc with the more 
wondering attentivencss : 

" Old woman, old woman, oh whither so high ? 
To sweep tlie cobwebs ont of the sky : 
And I shall be back again by-and-byf^ 

The disposition to associate ideas varies in 
dift'erent temperaments. With children who 
associate strongly and rapidly, the slightest 
circumstances prevail and the merest accident 
is liable to counteract the closest attention 
and care. Secret associations govern such 
children, of the very existence of which their 
parents have no suspicion. 

Proceeding farther in Mr. Hunt's booH, 
since writing the above, wo find the confir- 
mation of our suggestions in the following: — 

" Shelley deliijhted to play with children, par- 
ticularly my eldest boy ; tnc 8erit)usneas of whose 
imagination and his susceptibility of a ' grim * im- 
pression (a favorite epithet of Shelley's) highly 
interested him. He would play at ' friglitful 
creatures' with him, from which the other would 
snatch * a fearful joy,* only begging him * not to do 
the horn,' which was a way Shelley had of screw- 
ing up his hair in front, to unitate a weapon of that 

Hunt's mother was fond of music and " a 
gentle singer." Her son looks back >vith a 
pleased and affectionate" rec^>llection of the 
songs of that day, of which, as well as in the 
pastoral j)oetry of the time, **the feeling wjis 
true though the expression was somewhat 
soi;histicate." Hooke, Boyce, Dibdin, Jack- 
son, Shield and Storace were the fashionable 
comp(jsers, and the songs most in vogue 
were the " Lass of Richmond Hill," " 'Twas 
within a mile of Edinborough Town," " All, 
dearest Henry," <kc. Many of these, which 
have l)een, and we believe are still, looked 
upon as ])urely English, were borrowed, our 
author thinks, from the Italian. 

" I have often, in the course of my life, heard 
Whithtr, my love^ and For taiderne^s fortned, 
boa.«tcd of as specimens of English melcHly. For 
many years I t(M»k them for such myself, in com- 
mon with the rest of our &mily, with whom they 
were great favorites. The first, which Stephen 
Storace adapted to some words in the * Haunted 
Tower,' is the air of Jm liacMina in Paesiello's 
opera, * La Molinara,' Tlie second, wliich wjis put 
by General Burgoyne to a song in his comedy of 
the * Heiress.' is lo sono Lindoro, in the same en- 
chanting composer's ' Barbierc di Seviglia.' Tlie 
'mce popular English songs and duets, <tc., Ilmc 
imperfect is erpresnion ; For rnc^ my fair a urreath 

has wove; Henry cuiPd the Jlov^refs Bloom; Of thou 
wcrt born to please me ; Herds a Jiealth tj all good 
lasses ; Yout/is the season made for joys ; Gently 
touch the warbling hjre ; No, ^ticas neither shape 
ncr feature; Pray^ Goody,please to moderate ; Hope 
told a Jiattering tale, and a hundred others, were 
all foreign composrtions, chiefly Italian. Every 
burlesque or buffo song, of any pretension, was 
pretty sure to be Italian. 

" When Edwin, Fawcett, and others, were rat- 
tling away in the happy comic songs of O'Keefe, 
with his triple rhymes and illustrative jargon, the 
audience little suspected that they were listening 
to some of the finest animal spirits of the south — 
to Piccini, Pacsiello, and Oimarosa. Even the 
wild Irishman thought himself bound to go to 
Naples, before he could get aproper dance for his 
gayety. The only genuine English compositions 
worth anything at that time, were almost confined 
to Shield, Dibdin, and Storace, the hist of whom, 
the author of Imllaby, who was an ItaUan bom in 
England, formed the golden link between the music 
of the two countries, the only one, perhaps, in 
which English accentuation and Italian flow were 
ever truly amalgamated ; though I must own that 
I am heretic enough (if present fiishion is ortho<loxy) 
to believe, that Ame was a real musical genius, of 
a very pure, albeit not of the very first water. He 
has set, indeed, two songs of Shakspeare's (the 
Cuckoo song, and Where the bee sucks) in a spirit 
of perfect analogy to the words, as well as of the 
liveliest musical invention ; and his air of Water 
parted, in ' Artaxerxes,' winds about the feelings 
with an earnest and graceful tenderness of regret, 
worthy in the highest degree of the affecting 
beauty of the sentiment. 

" All the favorite poetry of tlie day, however, 
was of one cast" 

Hunt's recollection of "Encompassed in 
an angel's frame," "Fresh and strong the 
breeze is blowing," and "Alone by the 
light of the moon," recalls the days when 
our own childhood was delighted by the 
same ; and we should have stood well pleased 
by his side at the music-stall where, dragging 
these long-lost favorites to light, he was 
carried back in pleasant abstraction to when, 
a " smooth-faced boy," he sung them at his 
mother's knee. 

In reference to the song of " Dans votre 
lit," the favorite of his sister, because, in her 
ignorance of the French language, she 
associat<?d with the last word the name of her 
brother, he sap : — 

** Tlic song was a somewhat gallant, but very 
decorous song, apostrophizing a lady as a lily in 
the flower-b^d. It was * silly, sooth,' and * dal- 
lied with the innocence of love,' in those day^s, 
after a fashion which might have excited livelier 
ideas in the more restricted imaginations of the 
present Tlie reader has seen, that my mother, 
notwithstanding her charitableness to the poor 
maid-servant, was a woman of strict morals ; the 

Autobiography tf trnffk Sunt. 



hoc of the biuQjr cunfurwliuii wna Krupulausl; 
mmcl. tliuu|;K perliaps, n little Soixeij and 
T)»nMoo-1iki'. inimnsopi was oiir (arorite poet;) 
jf( the acu:) that were iiing at that tune by 
Iht nxM tMliSoaa, nii^iil ba tbim^t n shatte 
icM thaa would Ruit thu lik» kuid of sooiotr at 
|(ctcuL WliKther ve >re luuro imioMtit iii har- 
M|t tmomv more uhamed, I ahnll not judge. 
Amdi«<Uj, the *ingcr of those 8ong!i wna lu inno 
tmt •■ A> QwtlKir that bode hiranng them." 

Among Iliuit't earfifflt uiemoriea U that 
nf Iwiin); sopn, at tlifierent limes in hia boy- 
bood, ^^'Ukis, I'itt, and Fwx. Ho describea 
Ik brmef in a flapwawtcoated suit of 
ind goid, and Mr, Pitt, eomo ytara 
S blue coat, bucluliin bretches aud 
■d ft round hat, with punder and 
lrip4ail. "11^ nag Oiiii and gaunt, with 
t» hsA off hie furehoad and his nose in the 
ar."" " I «aw him ^piiu," he says, " in tlie 
li«we of CominonH, ftawinf; tlie air and 
tnrniDg to ap{)ea] to tJioae about 
ho Hpoke iu a loud, important, 
Wl iwuow voioi'.'' When the [wrwns h^ 
Muilid to eaid, "Ut^r! beaiT' Hunt 
BMgbt they said, IK-ar t dear I iu okjittitiou, 
nd wundertKl that Pitt did not afmear dis- 
a>ooert«d. Later still he saw Mr. Fox, "tat 
■kI jovial, though he was tliQn declining. 
n« who had been a'K'au' in his youth, theu 
Uikvd MnifLJiing Quaker-like as to dr&ss, 
with ['lain-uilored clothes, a broad-ruund hat, 
■hiu' waisti^iat, and wliite Btockings." 

(.Tirist'd Ui>.pital,at which Leigh Uunt was 
nlmat-'d, is said to have sent out, lowurd the 
(li."* i-f the last century and the bemiming 
rf ihn jirescnt, more living writers in its pro- 
pjnivii than any other English school — 
iniuD;^ ihi'iu were Chai'lcs Lamb and Oole- 
tvltt'. Christ's Uospital, which in the time 
</ Ur.uij tJie Kghth was a monaBt«ry of 
KratKncun friars, had its revciiuts assigned 
W Kfdwmnl the Sixth, at the instigatiun of 
ndky, to Llic maint^nanco and oducatioti of 
a arrtain nutnbcr of orplian buys, born of 
dtinoK of Ijondon. It has since been cx- 
timd>?(). m> that boys from all ranks are now 
adnuiu.<d ; and it is considercdas a medium 
lirtw«en the patrician prut^asion of such 
ttiiwb as Eton and Westminster, and the 
|ikhaaa submission of the charity schooh 
(>f tV religious education at this institution, 
Mr. Uuul thinks the effect produced w 
mA mhnt waa intended. The persons wl 
«n« in thn habit of preaching might as w 
ham hummed a tune, for they inspired 
Botliing in the bo}-s but mimiciy. 


The name of the morning reader was 
Salt. He was a worthy man, and inight 
have been a clever one, but he had it all to 
'tnseE Ho spoke in his throat, and was 
Cimous for saying " murracles," instead of 
" miracles." 

" Our luual eveninj; proadierwaB Mr. Sanditord, 
who had Ilia repulatlon uf learning und picly. It 
was of no nae to ua, except to malie u^ nuociate 
the idens af leumuu; and piety id the pulpii with 
inaudible hum-drum. Mr. Sandifind'a voice waa 
hollow and low; and bo had a habit of dip. 
jHDg up and down uvor his book, like a chicken 
drinking. Mr. Salt wax emiaeut for a single word. 
Mr. Sandiford eurnis^ei] bint, for lio hftd two 
audible phrasos. There was, it is true, no groat 
variety in them. One was ' the dispensulion of 
Moaes ;" the other, (with a duo ioterviil of hum,) 
'the Mowic dispensation.' Theiuj he used to 
repeat sn often, that iu our carioatures of him 
IlKy sufBced for an entire portntil. Tlie reader 
may conceive a large church, (it was Christ 
Church, NewifBt* alreet,) wili «ii hundred boys, 
seated like cFiarity-cliildren up in the air, on oadi 
«ide of thu ocgnn, iir. Sandiford humming in the 
valley, and a few nuud-servanla who formed b!> 
aftaruDon congregation. Wo did not dare to goto 
sleep. We wore not allowed to read. Thet;n»t 
boys used to get those that sat behind thunt 10 
piny nitb their hair. Some whispentd to their 

neighbors, and the otbon thought uf their lesson'- 
and tops. I can satelyaaj, that many ofus woald' 

have been good listeners, and moat of ua ultcntive 
ones, if ihe cli;rgyinaii could have been hearJ. As 
it was. I talked aa well u lh« rcat, or tliought oT 
niycxereisa. Bumetimeswe could not help joking 
Luxd laughing over our wearinsBs; and trjen the 
fear wa^ lest the steward had secu us. It was 
partof tbebusiuBS! of the steward to preside oyer 
lL« boys in church time. He sat aluol, in a plaoe 
where ho could view the whole ofliia Hock. There 
was a ludicrous kind of revenue we lunl of Iiira, 
whenever a particuliir part of the Bible was read. 
This wai Ihe parable of the Unjuol Steward, 
The bova waited oiiiiuiii'ly till the poss.^go roai- 
menoed ; and then, b» if by a general OMi-'pimcv, 
at the word* ' llum unjust steward,' the wliolo 
school turned their eyi^s upon this unfortunate offi- 

Of Bowycr, the head master, well known 
through Coleiidgo and Lamb, Hunt gives a 
ludicrous dt-wription, and some voiy remark- 
able anecdotes. Wo have room for only 
two. The tiret rehOcs to a boy towariu 
whom the master had a peculiar dishke : — 

" One day he comes into tlie sdmof, and finds him 

Jlaci'd in the iniddla of it with three other bovfi 
[e was not in one of hIa worst huiuum, anrl did 
I nut seem inclined to punish thoin, till bo saw U) 


Autchiography of Leigh Hunt 


iantagonist ' Oh, oh ! sir/ said he ; * what, you 
are among them, are you ?' and gave him an ex- 
clusive thump on the face. He then turned to one 
of the Grecians, and said, * I have not time to flog 
all these boys: make them draw lots, and Fll 

pmush one.' The lots were drawn, and C ^'s 

was favorable. 'Oh, oh I' returned the master, 
when he saw them, 'you have escaped, have you, 
sir ?* and pulling out his watch, and turning again 
to the Grecian observed,that he found he had time 
to punish tlie whole three ; * and, sir,' added he 

to C , with another ship, *ril begin with 

you' He then took the boy into the library and 
flogged him ; and, on issuing forth again, ha!a the 
face to say, with an air of indifference, ' I have 
not time, after all, to punish these two other boys.' " 

The other was the case of an unfortunate 
lad who could not be broken of a habit of 
drawling his words and neglecting his stops 
in reading. He was to read on the occa- 
sion named, in a book called " Dialogue be- 
tween a Missionary and an Indian," 

** Master, * Now, young man, have a care, or I 
will 8et you a swincfing task.' (A common phrase 
of hi?.) 

** Pupil. (Making a sort of heavy bolt at his 
calamity, and never rememberinsr his stop at the 
word Missionary.) ' Missionary Can you see the 
wind ?' 

** (Master gives him a slap on the cheek.) 

" Pupil. (Raising his voice to a cry, and still 
forgetting his stop.) * Indian No !' 

** Master. * God's-my-life, young man I have a 
care how you provoke me.' 

** Pupil. (Always forgetting the Btop.) ^Mis- 
sionary How then do you know that there is such 
a thing?' 

** (Here a terrible thump ) 

** Pupil. (With a shout of agony.) * Indian 
Because I feel it' " 

Immediately after leaving school, Hunt 
began to write verses, which his fjther in 
judiciously collected and j)ublished by sub- 
scription. The author acknowledges that 
they were chiefly imitative. " I wrote odes," 
ho sap, "because Colhns and Gray had 
written them, * blank verse,' because Aken- 
side and Thomson had written blank verse, 
and a * Palace of Pleasure,' because Spenser 
had written a ' Bower of Bliss.' " 

Introduced to literati and shown about at 
parties, the young poet was " fooled " nearly 
tothe " top of his bent" with conceit ; and a 
visit to some collegians at Cambridge and 
Oxford, where the repute of his volume had 
gone before him, filled up the mejisure of 
his self-complacency, lliough visiting these 
Universities for the first tim-*, he was so pos- 
sessed with the presence of Mr. Leigh Hunt, 

that he was oblinous of classical assoda- 
tions, and quite forgot to wander amid the 
haunts of Addison and Warton in Oxford, 
or those of Gray, Spenser, and Milton, in 
Cambridge. In relation to these Universi- 
ties, he remarks that England's two greatest 
philosophers, Bacon and Newton, were bred 
at Cambridjre, and three out of her four, 
great poets ; while Oxford, not always know- 
ing " the goods the gods provided," repudi- 
ated Locke, ahenated Gibbon, and had 
nothing but angry sullenness and hard ex- 
pulsion to answer to the inquiries which its 
very ordinances encouraged in the sincere 
and loving spirit of Shelley." 

Praised everywhere as a young Roscius 
in poetry, the vanity of our youth in his 
teens is not to be wondered at ; but he met 
with some mortifications whidi were whole- 
some and served to steady his brain for a 
time. Taken by his father to rait Dr. 
Raine, master of the Charter House, this 
gentleman had the candor, instead of laud- 
ing the genius of the youthful aspirant, to 
warn him against the perils of authorship, 
and added that " ike shelves were ftUV* It 
was not till he came away, unluckily, that 
Hunt thought of the answer, " Theii^ sir, we 
will make another^'* which ho imagined 
would have annihilated the Doctor. The 
mortification of having let slip the chance 
of such a repartee was, however, solaced 
soon after, when receiving a message from 
his grandfather that if he would come to 
Philadelphia he would make a man of him, 
he had the felicity to send word in repljr, 
that '* men grew in England as well as in 

Hunt (excepting, on his mother's account, 
the women of Philadelphia) professes to 
have no great predilection towards Ameri- 
cans. In addition to his own indiWdual 
"mote," he possesses, in this instance, an 
abundance of that national dim-sightedness 
which prevents the Enghsh in general from 
seeing any virtue equal to their own. Twice 
in the course of the Autobiography we meet 
with the remark (somewhat flattened by 
repetition) " that he cannot get out of his 
head the idea that there is a great counter 
built along the American coast, behind 
which all the people stand like linen dra- 
pers." Possibly among such knights of the 
cloth-yard might be found some able and 
willing to serve Mr. Hunt with good meas- 

AuU^grapky of Ltigh Hunt. 

Mlior'a renmrka upon Dr. Franklin, 
I far removed from his apprcciatioii 
uocustomed proportions gf tho ele- 
pfiear to the barking spaoiol, are in 
spirit of dogg^ EngUsli prejudioe, 
ost. unfortunate exception to Bunt's 
BHiJy fraukneaa and freedom from 
one-Mdedn«fi£. While objwrting to 
dtlin that he did not represent " all 
oature largely rcanires or may K&- 
hope to attoi to, it would be well 
der who Kea. What ladividu&l, or 
■at age, has, in dooring away the 
Ucinenta, (to uso oar autUor'it own 
on,) been able to nhow fully ita com- 
Franklin " did the duty next him," 
ired in his vocation, <uid fbr bis own 
111 m far-eeciiDg reference to the fii- 
lie lasle for extraTaganoe which his 
BMJ hail imWbwl from the English 
to be repressed, and economy and 
inmoDv, m the spirit of patriotism, 
nd^red reapectjible ; to which end 
" Poor ilidiard'a Almanae," adapt 
1 the occnsioD, and not intending 
igh Hunt must well know, to rep 
a phiJoMphy. 

1 nttMitioci became drawn toward 
p. Hii Jiad written a tragedy, a 
and a Circo : the latter he offered 
of tlifl '>|)era House, of whom 
ifolluwing portraitand anetduti! 

Ibe luir about hi'EUv. Thu look was _ 
-ih or », bat lery agreealile. 
rflv wii" eilmnuly cnartomi lo me ; but 
Ur} ..f the furw, or .lid wiih it, I utterly 
linMelf I »tull never forget : for oa he 
n* mobir I erer beheld anrwhere, eci ba 
of the fint whom 1 saw on Uie Rte^. 
«e<i he wai omtr, except inasmuch as he 
ting Nnger. and txit dimtitiite of a corbun 
mytbinj; be did Neither had he any 

frrwrr ai a iiiUfer. nor trren a roiccv 
t brafce down whil« he van studjing in 
etc itwWd. he had wiig nilb ■pplause. 

■MtppUi IimN I npnke of, were nrj 
D Ibo *Ui^ : he had ehort annt. a* if to 
■, waA a hurt; ■itf-p ; and jel, notwith- 
Jmw dmwhockii, bo wai heard with 
t» Iw had tajite and ferliiut. He wa> a 
a lii [mwr. aa th« muiie m Bluf Brard 
■d he wtwted *o happily from otbcr 

mt to pro rite lo hla friend Sheridnn's 
i Im wa« an "impnrter of TDusie and 
* wto««." (Bit h( onw took lo beinit a 
Mirt.) Wbilfi in Ireland, during ihe 

•r bfe aBreer. he ndiipled a ehnmirni; 
U1« to EogliihwnnLs vLidi, under the 


title uf Oh, thou arrt fxrrn to pleatt mr, he eang 
with Mrs. Crouch to so niiidi eS'tct, thnt not ouly 
was it always called for three tiineis bot nu phij 
woa suffered to be perbroied without it. It phuuld 
be added lliut Mrs, Crouch woa a lovely woman, 
aa well as a beautiful singer, and Uiot the two 
perlbrmeni were in We. IbaTC heard them ring 
It myself, and do not wonder at the impreaiian it 
made on the eusceplible hcartii uf the Iriah. 
Twenty yenra afterward, when Mrs. Crouch was 
DO more, and while Kelly wa« tinging a duct in 
the some country with Madame Cntalini, a iiuui in 
thc^Uerycriedout,"Mr. Kelly, will yrni b« goad 
enough lo faror ub with Oh, Ihm tprrt born lo 
pltiue tnsr The audience laughed : but the call 
went lo tliH heartof the singer, and prohnWy oimc 
from that of the honest follow who made It. "Hie 
man may have goito to the play in his youth, with 
MimvlHidy whom he loved by his side, irad heard 
two lovers, a^ bappv aa himself, sing what he now 
wiuhbd to bear agam.** 

Our author's recollection of Madame Ca- 
talini is, that in her brilliant ainginff there 
was " more tbrce than feeling," lie sketrhes 
several of the prominent performers of that 
day; among them I.fe Gamp, of whom it 
was said thai " he failed in fups, bat there 
was fire in hia footmen ;" the fat beauty, Mrs. 
Billinglon, who used lo perform with Bra- 
ham ; the hass-einger, Labhtcbe, ** full of 
might and nurth ;" and Uie tragic eti^rt^A au& ' 
singfir Pasta, the secret of whoso greatneas 
was "perfect truth, graced by idealism." 

" All noble pawiona belon;^ to her ; and hor 
very scorn seemed equally tnble, for it trampled 
only on what was mean. When ahemaasured 
her enemy from head to foot, in Thncmfj, you re- 
ally felt (urthe man, at seeii^hini eurednced into 
DothingneBS. When she made her rnlrance od tha 
stage, in the snmo character — which she did right 
in front of Ihe audience, niidvay between Ihe ode 
I — she waved forth her arm!<, aad drtw them 
together again over her bosom, as if she 

'y. yet modeitly, embraced Uie whole hunse. 

And when, in the part of Medea, she looked on the 
children i\ie was about to hill, and tenderly parted 
tlieir hair, and seemed tu miogle her very eyes in 
lovingness with tlicini. uttering, at the same time, 
notes of Ihe moBt wandering and dospairing sweet- 
ness, every gentle eye meltiHl into tearsi" 

The first actor Hunt remembers to hava 
seen upon the English boards, was the cele- 
brated Jack Dannistiir, who, "when he had 
made you laugh heartily in a comedy, would 
bring the tears into your eyes fur Home hon- 
est sufferer in an aflerpicco. ' " Fawwtl had 
braa-n face and a voice like n kuitiygriRd- 
■'s wheel. Ho was all pertnew, co««one« 
id effrouter)-, bnt willi a jrreat deal of 
)mic force ; »nd nbeiiuver ho came trotting 

(guictly t 



Autobiography of Leigh Hunt, 


on ihe stage, and pouring forth his harsh 
rapid words, with his nose in the air, and a 
facetious grind in liis throat, the audience 
were prepared for a merry evening." This 
description would answer for our Burton. 
Munden is described as famous for grimaces 
and " making something out of nothing ;" 
and Lewis as combining whimsicality with 
elegance, and le\ity with heart, — "the 
typo of airy genteel comedy." Elllstonwas, 
in his better days, the most genuine of lov- 
ers. " No man approached a woman as he 
did — ^Avith so flatterinij a mixture of rever- 
ence and passion — such closeness without 
insolence, and such trembling energy in his 
words. His utterance of the single word 
* charming ' was a volume of rapturous 

Then comes Liston, " who Listonized the 
whole piece in which he appeared;" and 
Mathews, still remembered on our own stiige 
in his " At Homos," liis " Monsieur Mor- 
bleau," and his "Sir Fretful Plagiary," in 
which characters, says Uunt, " it was a sight 
to see him looking wretchedly happy at his 
victimizers, and digging deeper and deeper 
mto his mortification at every fresh button 
of his coat that he buttoned up." 

Next follows Dovvton, who was " the best 
Falstaff of his day," and Cooke, the hook- 
nosed, malignantly smiling hypocrite and 
villain, whose Shylock and Sir Archy Mac 
Sarcasm are still remembered by some of 
the old play-goers among us. 

Kemble our author admired not " as 
it was the fashion to do," but considered that 
it was studied acquirement rather than 
genius which caused the critics to like him. 
lie thinks Mrs. Siddoiis, though the mistress 
of lofty, queenly, and appalling tragic effect, 
failed in the highest points of refinement. 
"With the exception of Mrs. Siddons," (who, 
it must be remembered, was, in Hunt's day, 
decUning,) " all the reigning school of tra- 
gedy," he says, "had retrogrtided towards the 
time that preceded Garrick ; and the con- 
sequence was that when Kean brought back 
nature and impulse, ho put an end to it at 
once, as Garrick had put an end to Quin." 
Of Mrs. Jordan, who " made even Methodists 
love her," he says, " she seemed to hold a 
patent from nature herself for our delight." 
Koom or no room, we cannot get over the 
next two pages without quoting them : — 

"Mrs. Jordan was inimitable in exemplifying 
the consequences of too much restraint in ill-edu- 

cated country girls, in romps, in hoydens, and in 
wards on whom the mercenary have designs. She 
wore a bib and tucker, and pinafore, with a bounc- 
ing propriety, fit to make the boldest spectator 
alarmed at the idea of bringing such a household 
responsibility on his shoulders. To see her when 
tlius attired shed blubbering tears for some disap- 
pointment, and cat all the while a great thick slice 
of bread and butter, weeping, and moaning, and 
munching, and eyeing at every bite the part she 
meant to bite next, was a lesson against will and 
appetite worth a hundred sermons of our friends 
on board the hoy ; and, on the other hand, they 
could assuredly have done and said nothing at aU 
calculated to make such an impression in favor of 
amiablencss as she did, when she acted in gentle, 
generous, and confiding characters. The way in 
which she. would take a friend by the cheek and 
kiss her, or make up a quarrel with a lover, or 
coax a guardian into good-humor, or sing (without 
accompaniment) the song of Since theti fm 
doorrCa, or In the Dead of the Night, trusting, as 
she had a right to do, and as the house wished 
her to do, to the sole effect of her sweet, mellow, 
and loving voice— the reader will pardon me, but 
tears of pleasure and regret come mto ray eyes at 
the recollection, as if she personified whatiioever 
was happy at that period of life, and which has 
gone like herself. The very sound cf the litth? 
IJamiliar word bud from her lips, (the abbreviation of 
husband,) as she packed it closer, as it were, in tlie 
utterance, and pouted it up with fondness in the 
man's face, taking him at the same time by tlie 
chin, was a whole concentrated world of the power 
of loving. 

" That is a pleasant time of life, the play-going 
time in youth, when the coach is packea full to go 
to the theatre, and brothers and sisters, parents 
and lovers, (none of whom, perhaps, go very often,) 
are all wafted together in a flurry of expectation ; 
when tliey only wish as they go (except witli the 
lovers) is to go as fast as possible, and no sound 
is so delightful as the cry of *Bill of the PUy;" 
when the smell of links in the darkest and mud* 
diest winter^s night is charming ; and the steps of 
the coach are let down; and a nuir of hoarse 
voices round the door, and mud-^hitie on the pave- 
ment, are accompanied with a sight of the warm- 
looking lobby which is about to be entered ; and 
tliey enter, and pay, and ascend the pleasant stairs 
and begin to hear the silence of the house, perfaapi 
the first jingle of the music ; and tlie box Is entered 
amidst some little awkwardness in descending to 
their places and being looked at ; and at leogtli 
they sit, and are become used to by their neigbbiM^ 
and shawls and smiles are adjusted, and the pUjf- 
bill is handed round or pinned to the cushion, and 
the gods are a little noisy, and the music veritably 
commences ; and at length the curtain is drava 
up, and the first dehghtful syllables are heard: 

" * Ah ! my dear Charles, when did you see thfl 
lovely Olivia?' 

" * Oh ! my dear Sir George, talk not to me of 
OUvia. The cruel guardian,' <tc 

" Anon the favorite of the party makes his ap> 
pearancc, and then they are quite happy; aod 
next day, besides his own merits, the points of the 
dialogue are attributed to him as if he was their 


Autobiography of Leigh Hunt. 


inventor. It is not Sir Harry, or old Domton, or 
Dub^tcr, "who Paid tlii-? or that; but 'Lewis/ 
* Munden,* or * Kedev.' Tliev seem to tliink the wit 
really orii^inated with tlie man who uttered it so 

*'CriticiiI play-goiuEj is very inferior in liA en- 
joyments to this. Never, after I had taken criti- 
cal pen in hand, did I pass the thorouji^hly-deliirht- 
ful evenings at the playhouse which I had done 

when I went only to laugh or be moved. 

^ •* I spi'ak of my own feeUii^ and at a particular 
time of life; but forty or fifty years ago, people of 
all times of life were much greater phiy-goers than 
they are now. They dined earlier ; tliey had not 
so may newspapers, clubs, and piano-fortes ; the 
French Revolution only tended at first to endear 
the nation to its own Iiabits ; it liad not yet opened 
n thousand new cimnnels of tliought and interest ; 
nor had railroads conspired to carry people, iKxlily 
as well as mentally, hito as many analogous direc- 
tiooA. Everything was more concentrated, and 
the various classes of society felt a greater concern 
in the same amusements. Nobility, gentry, citi- 
zens, princes, all were frequenters of theatres, and 
even more or less acquainted personally witli the 
performers. Nobility intennarried with them ; 
gentry, and citizens, too, wrote for them ; princes 
conversed and lived with them. Sheridan, and 
other members of Parlhuneot, were managers as 
•well as dramatists. It was Lords Derby, Craven, 
and Tliurlow tliat sought wives on the stage. 
Two of the most popular minor dramatists were 
Cobb, a clerk in the India House, and Birch, the 
pastry-cook. If Mrs. Jordan lived with the Duke 
of Clarence (William IV.) as his mistress, nolxnly 
doubts that she was as faithful to him as a wife. 
His brother, the Truice of Wales, ((Jeorge the 
Fourth,) besides his intimacy with Sheridan and 
the younger Colman, and to say nothing of Mrs. 
Robinson, took a pleasure in conversing with Kem- 
ble, and was the })ers4)iial [)atronof O'Kecfe and of 
Kelly. The Kembles, indeed, as Cfarrick had been, 
were receive<l everywhere, among the truly b(?st 
circles; tliat is to say, where intelligence was 
combined with high breeding : and they deserved 
it; for whatever difFerence of opinion niav be en- 
tertaincd as to the amount of genius in the family, 
nobody who recollects them will di-sjnite that they 
were a remarkable race, dignified and elegant in 
manners, with intellectual tendencies, and in jHMnt 
of aspect very like wliat has been called * Ood 
Almighty's nobility.' " 

The Spectator was the earliest inod«d of 
IluntV ])ro«c ; and his earliest j)riiite(l com- 
position in prose was a seines of pajH.»rs under 
the signature of ** Mr. Town, Jun.," which he* 
gave to the Traveller, a new evening j)a|>er, 
and received in remuneration a ]>erquisit(^ of 
five or six copios of the ])aper, and th* de- 
liffht of beholdin^j himself in lonjj e^dumns 
of prmt. 

Hunt was early versed in the humor of 
Bonnel Thornton and Colman, but looks 
upon it now as mere caricature in compari- 
son with Goldsmith^s. His admiration of 

Walpole's stylo is sufficiently dv'^monstrated 
by his own. Fielding and Smollftt, Voltaire, 
Charlotte Smith, Mrs. Radclitte, and Augus- 
tas La Fontaine were among his favorite au- 
thors, Imt esj)ocially Voltaire — **the greatest 
writer of the eighteenth century, and, ui)on 
the whole, the greatest France has ever j)ro- 
due«^d ;" hut whose works, with the exc^^ption 
of Candide and Zadig, he thinks are scarcely 
known in Knixland, even amon;i:st those who 
talk most about them ; thes<^ two novels, 
by no m(»ans his finest, serving as sufficient 
specimens of him, even among liis admirers. 

" Voltaire is one of the three great tragic writers 
of France, and excels in pathos ; yet n(»t one Eng- 
lishman in a thousand knows a syllable of his tra- 
gedies, or would do anything but stare to hear of his 
pathos. Voltaire inducted his countrymen into a 
knowledge of English science and metjiphysics, 
nay, even of English poetry; yet Englishmen "have 
been told little alxmt him hi connection withthom, 
except of his disagreements with Shakspearc. 
Voltaire created a fiishion for Engli«ih thinking, 
manner, and |)olicy, and fell in love with the sim- 
plicity and truthfulness of their very Quakers ; and 
yet, I will venture to say, the English know far 
less of all this, than they do of a lic^ntioiw poem 
with which he degraded his bctti^r nature in bur- 
lesquing the history of Joim of Arc 

*' There are, it is admitted, two sides to the char- 
acter of Voltaire; one licentious, merely scofiing, 
saddening, defective in sentiment, and theref »re 
wanting the inner clue of the Iwautiful to guide 
him out of the labyrinth of scorn and perplexity ; 
all owing, be it oh-ierved, to the errors which ho 
fouml prevailing in his youth, and to the impossi- 
ble d(>maiids whi(rh they made on his aci|ui(»seence ; 
but the other side of his character is moral, cheer- 
ful, beneficent, j)repared to encounter peril, nay, 
actually encountering it in the only true Christian 
wiu^es, those of tolenition and charity, and rai-ing 
that voice of demand for the advancement of rea- 
son and justice which is now growing into the 
whole voice of EuroiK?. lie was the only man, 
perhaps, that ever existed, who represt^nted in his 
single person the entire character, with one hon- 
orable exception, (for he was never sanguinary,) oj 
the nation in which he was born ; nay, of its whole 
history, past, present, and to come. He had the 
licentiousness of the ohl monarchy under which he 
was bred, the ctxsmopolite ard(»r of the Revolution, 
the science of the Consuhite and the *• savans,*' the 
unphilosophic h)ve of glory of the Empire, the 
worldly wisdom (without pushing it into folly) of 
Louis Philippe, and the changeful humors, the 
firmness, the weakness, the flourishing declama- 
tion, the sympathy with the p(M)r, the boithomie^ 
the unlxmndea hopes, of the In^st actors in the ex- 
traordinary scenes now acting Ix'foro the eyes of 
Euro])e in this present year 1850. Ashe himself 
could not construct as well as he could pull down, 
so neither do his countrymen, with all the goodness 
and greatness among them, apiwar to be le"«s truly 
represented by him in that particular than in others ; 
but in pulling down he had the same va'^edQ.^\t^^^ 


Autchiogr aphy of Leigh Hunt 


the best that could be set up ; and when he was 
most thought to oppose Christianity itself, lie only 
did it out of an impatient desire to see the law of 
love triumphant, and was only thought to be the 
iidversary of its spirit, because his revilers knew 
nothing of it themselves. 

"Voltaire, in an essay. written by himself in the 
English language, has said of Milton, in a passage 
which would do honor to our best writers, that when 
the poet saw the Adamo of Andreini at Florence, he 
* pierced through the absurdity of the plot to the 
hidden majesty of the subject.* It may be said of 
himself, Uiat he pierced through the conventional 
majesty of a great many subjects, to the hidden 
absurdity of the plot He laid the axe to a heap 
of savage abuses ; pulled the comer-stones out of 
dungeons and inquisition* ; bowed and mocked the 
most tyrannical absurdities out of countenance; 
and raised one prodigious peal of laughter at su- 
]3erstition from Naples to the Baltic. He was tJie 
first man who got the power of opinion and com- 
mon sense openly recognized as a reigning author- 
ity, and who made the acknowledgment of it a 
point of wit and cunning, even with those who 
had hitherto thought they had the world to them- 

We have always thought the general feel- 
ing toward this " great organ of his age '' 
too bitter and unrelenting. He came at a 
period when impurity pervade<l the Avhole 
moral atmo.«^phero, and supeni^tition, with gibes 
and antics, sat like a night fiend on the pros- 
trate heart of religion. Sense and sarcasm 
predominating in his mind ^vith a natural im- 
patience of restraint, his skepticism was the 
consequence ; and introduced early to the 
elegant and • profligate coteries of Ninon de 
rA'nclos, and to the half political, half lite- 
rary soirees at Sceaux, he found even there 
an exciting stimulus. ILs earlier works 
were neither remarkable for boldness nor 
originahty, and it has been observed that 
" it was not until success revealed to him 
the extent of his own powers that lie became 
reckless and free." Voltaire accomplished 
great ends, but he was an iiLstrument obe- 
dient to the power of a progress which 
moved, and moves for ever. He was not 
always stimulated by pure, high and noble 
aspirations, but often by an innate destruc- 
tiveness and the passion of success. Our 
author most happily designaU^ the manner 
of Voltaire as consisting in an artful intermix- 
ture of the conventional dignity and real 
absurdity of what he is ex])osing, the tone 
being as grave as the dignity seems to re- 
quire, and the absurdity coming out as if 

It was in a paper entitled the " Ncws,''^ 
Bet up by his brother John, that Hunt com- 

menced liis theatrical criticisms, upon ih 
]>crfectly novel ground of independence. H 
refused to know actors and to accept tickets 
The first feat Avhich he performed, and whiel 
he now regrets, was the annihilation of th< 
admired Master Betty. Kemble, a Colossus ii 
comparison, it was harder to overtlirow 
though repeated attacks were made uj)on hi 
" majestic dryness and deliberate nothmgs.^ 
It was not until tbe rising of a far greate 
genius, who could by 

" One touch of nature make the whole world iJn^ 

that Kemble lost ground, and "faded be 
tore Kean hke a tragedy ghost." Of his 
criticisms at that time, of the living dram» 
tists, Morton, Colman, Reynolds, etc., Hunt 
speaks now with a graceful candor, and ac- 
knowledges his mistake in condemning as 
the fault of the writers what was rather that 
of the age — its dearth of dramatic character ; 
and allows that without being excellent, 
there was more tfdent in their productioM 
than he sup])osed. 

The gay and confident spirit of the young 
critic received a sudden check from ill-health, 
which wjis increased to a long-continued 
state of ner\'ous debility by super-abstinence, 
false regimen, and other mistaken methods 
of ciu*e. Restored finally by exercise tend- 
ing to enliven the blood, and amusemonts 
serving to raise the animal spirits, he fell 
in love, for the hundredth time, and married. 
The poet's heart, like that of his mother 
before him, was suMued. by the fa^oinatioa 
of elegant reading; and Mrs. Hunt still 
maintains her conquest by reciting her hus- 
band's verses, as he . gaily acknowledges, 
** better than ever." 

Toward the close of the reign of Oeorge 
III., and al)out three years before the Regen- 
cy, Leigh Hunt and his brother John com- 
menced the Examiner, in which were emu- 
lated the w it and fine writing of Addison an<i 
Steele. Encouraged by the success of hi 
theatrical criticL<im, he " set up for an orack 
in politics," with what he now conceiv<>s Xk 
have been assumption and a spirit of con 
ceited fopi>ery, which must have rendered 
him ridiculous in the eyes of the discerning 
Yet we l)elieve it to be true that he wa 
never, at that, or any other time, otlier thai 
" an honest man" ; and that he set out will 
and continued to possess as good an amoun 
of editorial qualification, not only as raos 
writers " no older," but as many much olda 


Autohwgraphy of Leigh Hunt, 


How many editors can as lionostly say, " 1 1 energy, and being ostentatious with his 
am fairly grounded in the lii-^tory of my I limbs and muscles, in proj)ortion as he could 
country, — I have carefully read her laws, — . not draw them. lie endeavored to bring 
I am proprietor of my journal, and I have Michael Angelo's apostles and prophets, 

no mercenary views whatever *' ? 

Hunt, to keep clear of " patronage," and 
in that spirit of martyrdom which had been 
singularly inculcated from his cradle, denied 
himself now all political, as he had before 
done all theatrical acqutiintances, and was 
fully prepared to endure all tlie evil conse- 
quences that fell ui)on him. 

Reform in Parliament, lilx?rality of opinion 
in general, and a fusion of literju-y taste, were 
the alleged objects of the Examiner, Its 
politics were rather general sentiments than 
particular reflections. Hunt, himself, gave 
his best hours and his warmest feelings all 
the tim^j to poetry, and then, at the last 
moment, made a rush at his editorial duties 
and sat up late at night to complete them. 
His miscellaneous criticisms did good service, 
and created a more general appreciation of 
pure and valuable literature. 

At the house of Mr. Hill, proprietor of 
the Monthly Mirror, Hunt fell in with a set 
of merry acquaintances, of Avhom he gives 
such fine graphic sketches that we are sorry 
to refer our readers to his own volume rath- 
er than to repeat them here. These gentle- 
men were the wit, Dubois, with his infinite 
quips and cranks ; Tlieodore Hook, the 
" merry jongleur," the extemj)orizer of verse 
and music, and Campbell, who in the rap- 
turous excitt^ment of hearing himself i)aro- 
died, da<*hed his wig at him, exclaiming, '* You 
dog ! ni throw my laurels at you ;" Math- 
ews, whose imitations in private were still 
more admirable than on the stage ; and the 
two Smiths, — Javies, of whose prose and 
verse our author obs<^rves that they were too 
full of the ridicule of city pretension, and 
adds the truly Johnsonian remark, that " to 
bo sujierior to anything it should not al- 

with their superhuman ]»onderousness of in- 
tention, into the common i>laces of hfe. A 
student reading in a garden is all over in- 
tensity of muscle." Of lionnycastle, Fuseli's 
friend, wc are told that 

** Bonnycastle was a good fellow; he was a tall, 
gaunt, lont^-headed mau, with large features and 
spectacles, and a deep interaal voice, with a twang 
of rusticity in it ; and he goggled over his plate 
like a horse. I often thought that a bag of com 
would liave hung well on him. His laugh was 
equine, and showed his teeth upward at the sides. 
W ordswortli, who notices similar mysterious man- 
ifestations on the part of donkeys, would liave 
thought it ominous. Bonny castle was passionately 
fond of quoting Shakspeare, and telling stories; 
and if the Edinburgh Uevieio liad just come out, 
would give us all the jokes in it. Perhaps Bon- 
nycastle thought more highly of his talents than 
the amount of them strictly warranted ; a mistake 
to which scientific men appear to be more liable 
than others, the universe tliey work in being so 
large, and their universality (in Bacon's sense of 
the word) being often so smalV* 


As a politician. Hunt was ardent even to 
fierceness, but never ungeneroim, and he has 
outlived most, if not all his jx)litical animos- 
ities. The editors of the Examiner wished 
to see " the reins of restiiction loosened in the 
handft of the individual, l>eforo the growing 
strength and self-government of the many." 
Mr. Hunt imagines he sees this in tlic pres- 
ent British government ; but it must be re- 
membered that he Ihis retired from the " stir 
of the great Babel," and is probably better 
conversant with the reminiscences of his for- 
mer literary course, than ^vith the pohtical 
movements of the present time, as his note 
in regard to Lord John Russell at the close 
of the second volume suffici<?ntly testifies. 
He now sj)eaks of (Jeorge HI. with as much 
independence of spirit as can be exjKJcted 

ways be running in one's he:ul;" find -Corner, from a subject and admirer of his grand- 

who in the verse of Shelley was said to 

" Wit and sense. 
Virtue and human knowledge, all that might 
Make tliis dull world a business of delight" 

At the table of Hunter, the bookseller, 
assembled another set — Fuseli, Bonnycastle, 
Kinnaird, and Godwin. ** Fuseli," Hunt says, 
"was an inijenioas caricaturist of Michael 
Angclo, miaking great displays of mental 

daughter Victoria, and moreover the re- 
ceiv(^r of a j^ension at her royal bounty. 
He is careful to sujjijfest tliat tho descend- 
ants of his Maji^sty are preserved from any 
inheritance of obstinacy, incom])etency, etc., 
by " the infusion of colder and more judi- 
cious blood from another German stock." 

Even literary criticism was in those days 
deeply colored with pohtics, and when the 
Examiner, after outli\nng a series of formi- 
dable persecutions, had been established 

AutfAioffraphy of Leiffk Hunt. 


about three years, Mr. John niint projecuJ 
a. qiiarturly inagnzine of literiiture ami ]Hi\i- 
tiM called tlio Reflector, of wliicli his broth- 
er became editor, and was mded by coiiiri- 
butJoiis from Limib, DycrjBanies, Dr. Aikin, 
and others. In this iieriodieal first appeared 
the "Feast of tUo Poets," by wliich the 
author drew ui)on himself the eninit}- of 
almost every living poet, and especially Gif- 
ford, of wliom be slJU speaks iit somewhat 
of Lb former tone, and with a bitter perwm- 
ality equalling that for which tlie great sati rist 
has himself been eenaured, IIo now real- 
ized the truth of Steele's remark, that " the 
life of a wit is a warfare upon earth." 

■At an annual dinner of the Irish U[>un 
St. Patrick's Day, the decline of tho rrincc 
of Wales's popiilaiity was remarkably erinced. 
IIiB broken engagements and his violated 
promii*CH in regard to tho Catholic claims 
catiscd Ills name, which used to be hailed 
with rapture at the dinner in i]Uestion, to be 
DOW reci;ivcd with hisses. Ajiologlzing tor 
tho necessity, in self-defence, of rejienting 
anything against the Queen's kindred, nnd. 
skilfully suggei^ting hb excuse on the ground 
tliat Ike vwy feelinff» which would ca\ 
him to oppose one sovertign might Tender 
him the tnore devoted subject of another^ 
our author gives at full length tho article 
containing tie " libel" which resulted yi two 
years' imprisonment and a fine of five hun- 
dred [wundfi. It describes the speeehes of 
Mr. Sheridan and others present at the cele- 
bration, after which it goes on to answer aii 
attack from the Morning Post, and to re- 
mark severely upon some complimentarv 
i-erses whicli are said, literally, to address 
the I'rinco in the following terms : — 

"'You arc the Glory nf the people' — 'Yon ore 
the ProtecU-roflh'' nrff'— ' Yoo are ibc itaxaian 
of tliK oye'— ''WLorever you appear i/ini cmiqiitr 
all hcarli, v/iiK away tcnrs, excite drtirt and lovf, 
aiul win lirniUii tovaiii you' — "You breathe i^o- 
qarnee ' — ' Yoii inspire tli« Oraceq '— ' You are an 
A<hiti$in loivliaeii !' 'Tims jjiftwd,' it]iroceei!s 
in English, 

■Thna gftMl with ouh gnco oT inbiil, 

Shill hnglit n-iiom mnU thy dudo.' 
"What jwrsnu." say:* Ihe Jiraiaincr, "tinaiv 
Cuainteil vith the true state of tho raw, woiili) 
inugiiic. in ruailiii^ thn^e astounding eiilii^^cn, timt 
this' Glori/o/ lli: pmp'c' was tho mibject of mil- 
Uotisof shrugsanJ repronchca I tiiatthis' I'rofcetor 

«f the artt' bad named a wretched foreigner 
1119 historical painter, in dinparagcmeot or iu ig- 
;iorance of the merits of bis own countrjmeol 
tluit this ' Mfteenat of iitt age ' patroniEeiJ not • 
tingle deserving writer t Chat thin * Breather of 
(loquenee ' could not say a few decent extempore 
words— if we aretojuilge, at leiut, from wbat ha 
foid to hia re^ment on its embnrkatLon for Portu- 
gal ! tliat this ' Coitqveror of hearti ' was the dia- 
iippoiiiter of hopes! that this 'Exciter of demrt' 
Ibravo! Mcfsieurs of the Post!] — tiia ' Adonii in 
toitlincti' was a corpulent man of fifty 1 indiot^ 
that this delighlful, blittful, tc!w. pleoAitrabU, 
hoKorable, pirfHout, true, and immortal Princo, 
BBS a violator of his word, a libertine, over bead 
*nd eara in disgrace, a despiscr of domestic tioi 
ihd companion of gniuUets and demireps, a Qua 
who iias just closed ludf a cenitu-)- wiuiout one 
nnglc claim on the gratitude of bia country, v 
Oio respect of posterity T 

Mr. Hunt thinks " (Ae verg sincere tone" 
of tills libel might have furnLahed the 
Prince with a ground for pardoning iL 
Had the Prince pardoned him ho would. 
have overlooked all tlic Prince's faults. H« 
considere himself " bound now to pardM 
tlie Prince in consideration of the drcunf 
Btinces which mould the character of every 
humau being;" and doubts whether he him- 
self was warranted iu his own person to 
" demand more virtues from any himian 
being than nature and education had giveiL" 

Everybody gives Leigh Hunt the char- 
acter of being frank and simple-minded. 
The above is certainly naive to the last de- 
gree. Or, is it not Punch in a new drcM, 
a very fiiinjty disguise ; and do we not ue 
tlie checkered legs of Harlequin Vani^ 
strutting below the over-sized mask of a long- 
visaged candor! 

Although Hunt's liberal and coemopolita 
poUtJcs were unpopular, they produced, to.; 
some extent, tlie effect he deuired. FcarleiV' 
))artty through an honesty of purpose, aad: 
partly through a most complete self-«uffi-' 
eiency, his greatest sin was, at the luoal, W; 
indecorous warmth of expression, and tb»' 
very injustice of his confinement caiued^ 
many a true heart to " leap towards imr- 
in bnjtherly sympathy," 

Tbn sentence of imprisonment was re- 
ceived wjtii manly courage, " My brotlwr^ 
and 1," he say's, '■instinctively pnswed eack': 
otlier'fl arm. It was a heavy blow; but; 
the pressure that acknowledged it encourand;, 
the resolution to bear it; and I do not W^ 
lieve that either of us exclianged a waA] 
afterward upon the subject" 

Aalcinoffrapky of Leigh Hunt, 


The dreary horrors of the prison iverc 
angmentcd at Uio outset by the insolence of 
the jwlor, who becnme, after a while, more 
eiiil through the mj-aterious influcuco of a 
Greek Pindar which he saw among Ills 
prisoner's books, tlie unintelligible character 
of which gave him ft notion of sometliing 
superior even to himseh'. Many of the 
evils of the prison-lift! were, on the other 
hand, obviated, or at least ameliorated, by 
Hunt's own cheerful and enduring spirit, 
■' To regions of bis own bis genius true 
Toolt linppy tliglita." 
And when, after some months, ill health 
occasioned his being removed to a part of 
the jail called the lutirmary, he was so 
fortmiatc as to occupy two rooms whicli had 
never been used, llicso ho adorned iic- 
cording to his own fanciful and elegant 
taste, and converted a little yard, ivliieli 
belonged to them, into a garden. Ilis wife 
and children being [lermitted to remain 
witlk him, he affected to feel at liberty, and 
would draw on his gloves, and put his InxiIc 
under his arm as he stopped out into his 
bounded pleasure-ground of a morning, re- 
questing his wife not to wait dinner if lie 
Bliould be late; tlius by the liveliness of 
imagination, and the beautiful adaptation 
of the will to the circumstance, clieating 
his liard fiito of its wretchedness, convert- 
ing ugliness into beauty, misfortune into 
playfulness, and enjoying what, in allusion 
to another, he calls "the i>oet'M privilege of 
Hurmouuting sonow with joy." 

Freedom cimio at last, but brought nut, 
at least immediately, the relief of mind 
wliicli was to bo oxix^ted. " Partly fntm ill 
healtli," siiys our author, " and p;u'l]y from 
liabit, the day of my liberatiou brought ii 
good deal of pain," 

" An illness nf a long Hnmlini;, wliicb Tfuiuiruil 
rery different trealjnoiil.limlbjlliiif linn; twcnbiirnl 
in upon mo by tliu irun that t-nterx iiitu llm tuiul n 
tlie uiplive, wrap it in Ikin'cra at lie niny ; nni 
I ani mluLincil to suv. that oAer stoppinu a little 
at the bouee of my mend Ab<af;Rr. I luuTi 
conmgu to continue lonhiiiKat llic Nhonln of , , 

Cilig to linil fni, IS tnu ooncli ilmve up the 
ihL Tbc wliulo bu^inco? of iJfu Hcemed - 
bidcuiu impertinence. 'I lio first pleivmnt fnvf 
tiOD I i^xpvrienci^d waa when Ihu ciiaeh tumi> 
into thu Kcw Koad, and I behclil (lie old bills of 
my affecticn titontliiig wliore they used Id da, iind 
breatliing nu a wcicuinc. 

The " Story of Rimini," expanded from a 
short passage in Dante's "Iiiferno," 


commenped in pinson, and published in 
1816. It is a poem full of exqubite d«- 
fcriptjoii, and scenery so pcifcetly Italian, 
it seems to glow as if warmed beneath 
Itjilian skies. Like the rest of liis jxretiy 
it degenerates oflen into the fantastic and 
trifling, but rises again to the direct and 
forcible. The author regrets, and we think 
'th reason, the new casting of this beauti- 
ful poem, whieh lost, by the alterations, 
mucJi of its pathos and fldelity to nature. 
grossly censured by Southey and 
nore in tlic spirit of party and poli- 
tics than in just literary discrimination. 

The Ji'Tominer continued, with its former 

Sbowing tiutli to flattered state," 
and treating the Prince Regent with any- 
thing but solemnity. It finally declined under 
the ascendency of the Tories and the desertion 
(if Keform hy the Whigs. Its fiiilure was 
o»iug also, in a great measure, to Uuut'a 
■gnoranc3 of the business part of the pub- 
lication, lie deeply regrets now those haWta 
and at'cidcnta of eduiation which led him to 
take books for the only euils of life. Huutwas 
among the mo^t pronnnent of what, in ridicu Ic, 
was di.-signated tlie "cockney school," so 
called from some tif the leaders Ving Lon- 
doners, and engaged in the pulilie press. 
Their peculiarities," writes 3Ir. Slihics, 
were a.lavisli imjiortanco given to things 
trivial and common. Tlu'y drew their in- 
spiration f^>m bonks nnd from themselves, 
' gave, in imitation of some of the old 
', a pre-eminence to individual iM'culi- 
arities whieh was ridiculous tran!»&rred from ' 
tjiem to the habits and eircumstanees of 
our time," Ilinitsjiys ; — 

"Die jests nlmut Londoners and coclmeys did 
not nlfect nic in tha, ns far x-i mv faitb was 
cciuconieiL Th^y mi^ht ns well bave said tliat 
l{ampsteAdwasnntI>cautiful,orltielimnnd lovely, 
or lliftt Chaucer anil Mitton were cuekiicys wbun 
tliev went out of Lomlon li> lie on the grtm nnd 
loot at tba<lnl>ies. Iliecockney srboolef poetry 
is the most illuftriniiK ui Eiiglnud ; fur. to say 
]H>thin([ of Pope and Omv, wlin went bolli verila- 
blc cirknoyi', 'bora witliin (lie pouiiil of liuw 
Itell,' Hilton was so ti"j ; msJ CImoccr nnd SiR-niH-T 
wcn'butb luttivtAoftliedty. Of Ibefnur^^enteHt 
Eni'li^'h poets, Shakspeare only was not a Lon- 

Tlio reviewers in Bkckwood and tho 
Quarteily were diwtitute of jioetie i)ercci> 
tion, and directed an unrefined sul ''anc 

48 Autobiography of Leigh Sunt, . Jan. 

scrupulous satire agaiast tlie poets of the scribes him in his study, which was adorned 
cockney school as political opponents, with casts of the Apollo and Venus, — stroll- 
Xreigh Hunt was admired by many, and ing in his garden and about the country,^ 
ridiculed by others as the master of this or sailing in a boat, which was his favorite 
school of poets, when, in trutli, he was only diversion. " Flowers," he says, " or a happy 
their encourager and sympathizer. Hunt face, or the hearing a congenial remaric, 
had a visit of thanks from Mr. Wordsworth would make his eyes sparkle with delight; 
for advocating the cause of his genius, while he would droop into an aspect of de- 
Keats, in a latter to Mr. Bailey, wrote : — jection when he saw the miserable-lookiiig 

children of the lace-making village, or thought 

" There h:w been a flaming attack upon Hunt of his own children of whom he had been 

intheEfUnburgh Magazine. I never read anything denrived bv Chancerv" 

BO virulent,— accusing him of the greatest crimes, «^P"vea oy v^nancery. 

depreciating his wife liis poetry, his habits, his „ ^^ ^^ y^ ^^^^^ the reader perhaps is not 

company, his conversation. These philippics are ^^^^ ^^^ j^ ^ ^^^ ^^ EngCd, L justly 

to come out m numbers, called Ihe Cockney ^aUed free on many accoiiits, imfso p^oud of iu 

School of Poetry There has been but one num- . £ li^^^n's castle,'-of the house, which noth- 

ber pubhslied — that on Hunt. * « * I have -„ °„„ „• i„f« „ rr^\.,^*c ^tr^^^Xr^^ ««« k^ ».ir^ 

j*^ , . ., ] _i . . 1 3 r "^ can violate, a mans otispring can be taken 

no doubt the second number was intended for me. ^^ y^^ to-morrow, who hol^s a different opbioa 

but liave hop«3 of its non-apparance from the ^^^ ^^^ ^o^j diincellor in faith and moraU 

followiiis adverUsement in last Sundays Bx^ni- jj , -^ ^ ^ ^ ^j ^ y^ t^^ 

^'Wrl TTm^T 5. M ""'l^'I^Tl " Gibbon** might have Wn taken. The yirtuout 

m Blackwood s Mmburgh Magazme for October, Condorcet, if he had been an Englishman aod • 

1817. is invited to send his address to the printer f^^ ^-^j ,,^^„ ^j^ ^ ^^* 

of aie Lxanuner, m order that jusUce may be ex- „ p^ j.^^ y^ Jtepublic, would have stood u 

ecuted on the proper person. ^^^^^^ . ^;j M^e^^i^^ de Goumay might hare 

been torn from the arms of her adopted father 
Of Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth, Colo- Montaigne, convicted beyond redemption of see- 
ridge, and Lamb, Mr. Hunt gives some ing fartlier than the walls of the Opurt of Chan- 

liave been too solemn, uncompromising and ^ith closed doors, and the details are forbidden to 

dignified in his manners to tally with the transpire." 
easier grace of Uunt. The following, in 

allusion to the visit before mentioned, suffi- Shelley's "princeliness" of generosity, his 

ciently illastrates their difference : — benevolence and sensibility, were accpwr 

panied by a playfulness and love of frolic. 

"Under the study in which my visitor and I *'Itwas a moot point when he entered your 

were sitting was an archway, loading to a nursery- ^oom whether he would begin with some 

inround : a cart happened to go tiirough it while 1 t ij* ^ j. -i ^^ • • i * 

was inquiring whether ho woW take any refresh- I^alf-pleasant, half-peiisive Joke, or quote 

ment ; and he uttered m so lofty a voice, the words, something Greek, or ask some question 

♦Anything \rhirh w going forirard^ that I felt in- about public affairs." He and Hunt ODCe^ 

dined to askhim wlu^thor he would take a piece Hdino- in a staffe-coach where their only 

of the cart Lamb would certamly have done ^^^°„- „ Jt „««« o;i/>«* u ^««:»x 9f i^w^v 

it But this was a levity which would neither companion was a verjr sdent^ " gnm ^ look- 

havo been so proper on my part, after so short '"g old lady, '* bhelley startled her mto 8 

an acquaintance, nor very intelligible pcrhap^ in look of most ludicrous astonishment," by 

any seiwo of the word, to the serious poet. Tliere suddenly addressing his fiiend,in his enthu- 

lure go.>d-humored warrants for siniling, which lie ^:^^^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^ ,,^^i ^th a quotation fiwn ' 

deeper even than Mr. Wordsworth s thous^hta for c«i i ^^ tt 1 1 

^g^M ^ fehakspeare: "Hunt I 

Thirty years afterward, when thev met * For Haven's sake, let us sit upon ti^ 

^/ - i?xi X A " J And tell sad stones of the deaths of kings r 

agam, the manner of the great jkxH apjM^ared ® 

gn\'itly inipn.>vod, ** ^uito natural and noblo, *'Tlie old lady,"^ says Hunt," looked on the 

with a chiH^rful air of animal as well as ; coa^'h floor as if expecting to see us take 

spiritual confidence ." ■ seat^^ accordingly." 

Hunt's l)..)<om friend wiis Shelley. After < Hunt's love for Keats wa.s only seoond 

his s<H.*ond marriage he resided at Great to that which he cherished for ShftUey. Tlie 

Marlow, in Huckinghamshire, where Hunt^ knowledge reaching him after Keats's doatli 

with his family, paid him a \isit, and de- \ that the poet had at one time distrusted bib 


Autobiography of Leigh Hunt 


friendship, — thougli he comforts himself 
with the reflection that " it was sickness, and 
soon passed away," — deeply wounded his 
sincere and affectionate nature. It was a 
suspicion wholly undeserved, and was over- 
come before Hunt dreamed of its existence. 
A letter which Keats's devoted friend, Mr. 
Severn, received from Leigh Hunt a few 
days after Keats's death at Rome, illus- 
trates so fully Hunt's warm and simple 
affection, and is so touchingly delicate and 
sympathizing, that, as we can never read it 
ourselves without emotion, wo are induced 
to transcribe it for those who may not have 
seen it in Mr. Milnes' " Life and Letters of 

" Vale of Health, Harapstead, ) 
March 8tli, 1821. J 

"Dear Seveen: You have concluded, of course, 
that I have sent no letters to Rome, because I was 
aware of the eflfect thev would have on Keats's 
mind ; and this is the pnncipal cause,— for besides 
what I have been told of his emotions about let- 
ters in Italy, I remember his telling me on one 
occasion, that, in his sick moments, lie never wished 
to receive another letter, or ever to see another 
face, however friendly. But still I should have 
written to you had I not been almost at death's 
door myself. You will imagine how ill I have 
been, when you hear that I have just begun 
Tmting again for the * Examiner * and ' Indicator,' 
after an interval of several months, during which 
my flesh wasted from mc in sickness and melan- 
choly. Judge how often I tliought of Koats, and 
with what feelings. Mr. Brown tells me bo is 
comparatively calm now, or rather quite po. If 
he can bear to hear of us, pray tell luni— but he 
knows it already, and can put it in better lan- 
guage than any man. I hear he does not like to 
be told that he may get better ; nor is it to be 
•wondered at, considering his firm persuasion tliat 
be shall not recover. He can only regard it as a 
puerile thing, and an insinuation that he cannot 
bear to tliink he shall die. But if tliis persuasion 
should happen no longer to be so strong upon him, 
or if he can now put up with such attempts to con- 
sole him, remind him of what I have said a thou- 
«and times, and that I still (upon my honor, Sev- 
ern,) think always, that I have seen too many in- 
stances of recovery from apparently desperate 
cases of consumption, not to indulge in hope to 
the very last. If he cannot bear this, tell him — 
tell that great poet and noble-hearted man — that 
we shall all bear his memory in the mo^t precious 
part of our hearts, and that tlie world shall bow 
their heads to it, as our loves do. Or if this again 
will trouble his spirit, tell him we sliall never eott^e 
to remember and love him, a.nd, that the most 
skeptical of us has faith enougli in the high things 
(hat nature puts into our heads, to think that all 
who are of one accord in mind and heart are jour- 
neying to one and the same place, and shall luiite 
somehow or other again, face to face, mutually 

conscious, mutually delighted. Tell him he is 
only before us on the road, as he was in every- 
thing else ; or, whether you tell him the latter or 
no, tell him the former, and add that we shall 
never forget he was so, and that we are coming 
after him. Tlie tears are again in my eyes, and I 
must not afford to shed them. The next letter I 
write shall be more to yourself, and a little more 
refreshing to your spirits, which we are very sen- 
sible must have been very greatly taxed. But 
whether our friend dies or not, it will not be 
among the least lofty of our recollections by-and- 
by, that you helped to smooth the sick bed of so 
fine a bemg. 

" Your sincere friend, 

"Leigh Hunt.'* 

Of Charles L^imb, Mr. Hunt says, there 
has never been a true portrait His face 
resembled that of Bacon, " with less worldly 
vigor and more sensibility." The small size 
of the head both in Shelley and Keats has 
been a puzzle to phrenologists. Hunt could 
not get on cither their hats or Lord Byron's. 
Lamb's head, on the contraiy, was large in 
proportion to his body, or rather to his limbs, 
which were fragile. Though a man of strict 
veracity in the ordinary sense of the word, 
I Lamb had a fondness for confounding the 
borders of theoretical tnith and falsehood. 
lie said to a person who valued himself 
on being a niattor-of-fact man, that he val- 
ued himself on being ." a matter-of-lie man ;" 
and at another time he said that "truth 
was precious, and not to be wasted on eveiy- 

Ilazlitt compared Coleridge's genius to a 
?|)irit, all head and wings, eternally float- 
ing about in etherealities. " He gave me," 
Fays Hunt, "a diflercnt impression. I fan- 
cied him a good-natured wizard, very fond 
of eartli, and conscious of reposing with 
weight enough in his easy chair, but able 
to conjure his etheraleties about him in the 
twinkling of Jin eye." Hunt refers us to 
his '■'•Imagination and Faiicy'^'' for a critical 
summary of Lis opinions respecting Cole- 
idgc's i>oetry, of which however he hero 
says, " I take it upon tlie whole to have 
boon the finest of its time;" and again, "Of 
all * tlio muse's mysteries,' he was as gi'cat 
a high priest as Spenser ; and Spenser him- 
self miu^lit have ijfone to Hifrbirato to hear 
him talk, and thank him fur his 'Ancient 
Mariner.' " 

Partly through the urgency of Shelley, who 
had been some time abroad, partly to re- 
cruit his own health and his wife's, and 
chiefly on account of a \>ro^o?>^V \sv.'d^<^ \s\ 



Autobiography of Leigh Hunt, 


Lord Byron to set up a liberal periodical friend Mr. Williams \ras found near a tower, four 

publication in conjunction with him (liyron) 
and Shelley, Hunt vent witli liis family to 
Italy. Moreover, while his brother John 
was to endeavor, in En<rland, to reannnate 
the Examiner, Leigh Hunt was to use simul- 
taneous exertion in Italy to secure ncAV aid 
to their prospects and new I'rionds to the 
cause of liberty. 

After a very long and stormy passage, 
enhvencd in descni)tion by that tiilismanic 
power which our author possesses of turn- 
ing everything into mirth, poetry, or instruc- 
tion, he arrived at Leghorn, Avhero he met 
Lord Byron and Mr. Trelawney. Ue \ isited 
the former at his country residence at Monte 
Nero, where he lived with Madame Guic- 
cioh, in " a salmon-colored house," which, in 
a hot Itahan sun, suggested no very hopeful 
ideas of comfort or of i)oetry. Shelley 
hastened from his villeggiatura at Lerici, to 
meet his friend, and accompanied him to Pisa, 
where Hunt was to take up his residence. 
He remained a day or two ; and after sj^end- 
ing the la.«^t afternoon delightfully together 
in wandering about Pisa, the friends separa- 
ted never to meet again. On the night of 
the same day Shelley took a ])ost-chaisc for 
Leghoin, where he was, next day, to depart 
for his home, with his friend Capt. Williams, 
of Lerici. 

" I entreated him," says Hunt, *' if the 
weather was violent, not to give way to his 
daring si)irit and venture to sea. He prom- 
ised me he would not, and it seems he did 
set oft' later than he otherwise would have 
done, and at, ai)parently, a more favorable 
moment. I never saw him more." The 
name niirht there was a tremendoas storm 
of thunder and lightning. Mr. and Mrs. 
Hunt were anxious, but hoped their friend 
might either not have left, or arrived in 
Kifety before it>* c(jmmencement. Trelawney 
came to Pisa and told them he wiis missiuii:. 

** A dreadful interv^al took place of more than a 
week, during which every inquiry and every fond 

iiope were exhausted. At the end of that period had a certain seraphical character that would havt 

miles distant from its companion. Tliat of tlie 
other tliird party in the boat, Charles Vivian, the 
seaman, was not discovered till nearly three weeks 

*• llie remains of Shelley and Mr. Williams were 
bunied, after the good ancient fashion, and gathered 
into coffers. Those of ^Ir. Williams were subse- 
quently taken to England. Shelley's were interred 
at Rome, in the Protestant burial-ground, the place 
which he had so touchingly described in recording 
its reception of Keat>. The ceremony of tlie hurn- 
ing was alike beautiful and distressing. Trelaw- 
ney, who had been the chief person concerned in 
ascertaining the fate of his friends, completed his 
kindness by taking the most active part on this 
last mouniful occasion. He and his friend Captain 
Shenley were first upon the ground, attended by 
proper a'^sistants. Lord Byron and myself arrived 
shortly afterward. His lordship got out of liis 
carria<::e, but wandered away from the spectacle, 
and did not see it. I remained inside the carriage, 
now looking on, now drawing back with feelings 
that were not to be witnessed. 

''None of the mourners, however, refused them- 
selves the little comfort of supposing, that lovers 
of books and antiquity, like Shelley and his com- 
panion, Shelley in particular with his Greek en- 
thusiasm, would not have been sorry to foresee 
tliis part of their fate. The mortal part of him, 
too, was saved from corruption ; not the least ex- 
traordinary' part of his hij=tory. Among the ma- 
terials ftir huming, as many of the gracefuUer and 
more classical articles as could be procured — frank- 
incense, wine, «fec.— were not forgotten; and to 
these Keats's volume was added. Tlie beauty of 
the flume arising from the funeral pile was extra- 
ordinary. The weather was beautiftilly fine. The 
Mediterranean, now soft and lucid, kissed tlie shore 
as if to make peace with it. , The yellow sand and 
blue sky were intensely contrasted with one an- 
other ; marble mountains touched the air with 
coolness; and the flame of the fire bore away to- 
ward heaven in vigorous amplitude, waving and 
quivering with a brightness of inconceivable 
beauty. It seemed as though it contained the 
glassy essence of vitality. You might have ex- 
pected a seraphic countenance to look out of it, 
turning once more before it departed, to thank tlie 
friends that had done their duty. 

*' Shelley, when he died, was in his thirtieth 
vear. His face was small, but well-shapeti, particu- 
iarty the mouth and chin, the turn of which was 
very sensitive and graceful. His side-face upon 
the whole was deficient in strength, and his fea- 
tures would not have told well in a bust; biit when 
fronting and looking at you attentively, his aspect 

our worst fears wore confirmed. A body had been 
washed on shore, near the town of Via Reggio, 
which, by the dn'-s and btature, wa'^ known to be 
our friend's. Keats's last volume also (the fjamia, 
<tc.,) was found open in the jacket j)ocket. He 
had probably been reading it, when surprised by 
the storm. It was my copy. I had told him to 
keep it till he gave it to me again with his own 
hands. So I would not have it from any other. 

suited a portrait of John the Baptist, or the angel 
whom Milton describes as holding a reed *tipt 
with fire.' Nor would the most religioas mmd, had 
it known him, have ohjected to the comparison ; for. 
with all his skej)ticism, Shelley's disposition was 
truly said to have been anytliing but irrehgious. 
He was pious toward nature, toward his friend*, 
toward the whole human race, toward the meanest 
insect of the forest. He did himself an. injustice 

It was burned with his remains. The body of his I with the public, in using the popular name of the 


Autobiography of Leigh Hunt 


Supreme Being inconsiderately. He identified it 
solely wi til the most vulgar and tyrannical notions 
of a God made after the worst human fashion; 
and did not sufficiently reflect, that it Wiis oftciu 
used by a juster devotion to express a sense of the 
great Mover of tne universe. When I heard of 
the catastrophe that overtook him, it seemed as if 
this spirit, not sufficiently constituted like the rest of 
the world, to obtain their sympathy, yet gifted with 
a double portion of love for all livmg things, had 
been fomid dead in a soHtary comer of the earth, 
its wings stiflfened, its warm heart cold ; the relics 
of a misunderstood nature, slain by the ungenial 

Hunt's family occupied, at Pisa, a part of 
Lord Byron's residence on the liver Arno. 
Here Lord Byron, under the influence of his 
well-known " hippocrene," was occupied in 
writing Don Juan, and an intimacy com- 
menced between the two poets, wliich, being 
founded rather in expediency than congeni- 
ality, was not of long duration. The lettera 
of Byron, which our author considers to be 
an appropriate introduction to their acquaint- 
ance, have no very especial interest, and 
seem to serve better the purpose of " tilling 
up" than any other. Indeed, the whole ac- 
coimt of our author's intercoui-se with his 
noble friend, and afterwards '' bitter enemy," 
is far less attractive than other portions of 
the lx>ok. Though Byron set a high value 
upon Hunt's honest and sincere admiration, 
and apparently sympathized wltli his lil>oral 
views and object'^*, yet when they came to 
see each other more intimately it is well 
known that a mutual rc})Ugiianco arose, and 
at length (lightly as Hunt now refoi-s to it) 
flamed up ahuost into hatred. Lord ]3yron 
had evidently a secret delight in the vanity 
of his companion, so much more simple 
and disjJayful than his own. Hunt says: 
"L<jrd Byron liked *to imitate Johnson, and 
say, ' Why, sir,' in a high, mouthing way, 
i-isino; and lookino* about him." He does 
not perceive that his Lordship, while jocu- 
larly assuming the Johnson^ was, in reality, 
playing off the conceit and toadyism onds 
(Hunt's) unconscious Bosivdl. 

In the fall Hunt remoNcd his fainilv to 
Genoa, where Mrs. Slielhy had ])reci'd(.'d 
them, and found liou-es both for Lord 
Byron's family and his, at Albnro, a neigh- 
boring village. Hunt's family and Mi's. 
Shelley occupied the Ca^a Negroto. Lord 
]5^Ton lived near them in the Oa^a Saluzzi. 
Here they received the tirst number of their 
new Quarterly, The Liberal^ accompanied 

by hopes and fears, the latter of which were 
too soon realized. Lord Byron's highly 
raised expectations being in some measure 
disappointed, his interest cooled off, and 
after four numbei"s The Liberal was no more. 
These, however, contained the *' Vision of 
Judgment," some vigorous essays of Hazlitt 
and Shelley's beautiful translation of the 
" May-day Night," from Goethe. Hunt says 
that he himself wrote nearly half of the 
whole publication, but not, he thinks, in his 
best maimer. 

Of Genoa, — "Genoa the superb," — of 
which the proverb says, '* it hios a sea with- 
out tish, land without trees, men Avithout 
faith, and women without modesty," our 
author tells better things, and givers a new 
view of the " city of palaces," so often de- 
scribed by travellers. We refer our readers 
to the description of its aspect as seen from 
the sea ; the account of its streets and pal- 
aces, its men and women, its churches, and of 
a religious procession which he witnessed 
there, in which was borne a wax-work repre- 
sentation of Saint Antonio kneeling before 
the Virgin, reminding him strongly of the 
ancient paganism. " The son of Myrrha," 
he says, "could not look more lover-like 
than St. Antonio, nor Venus more polite 
than the Virgin ; and the llowei*s stuck all 
about (the favorite emblem of the Cyprian 
youth) comph'ted the likeness to an ancient 
festival of Adonis." Of the climate he says : 

" You learn for the firjit time in this climate, what 
colors really are. l^o wonder it produces painters. 
An Ent^lish artist of any enthusiasm mii^^ht shed 
tears of vexation, to think of the dull medium 
through which blue and red come to him in his 
own atmosphere, compared willi this. One day 
we s:aw a boat i)a;s u-*, which in-tautly reminded 
us of Titian, and acco'.uited f(»r him ; and yet it 
contained nothing but an old boatman in a ro.l 
cap, and some women with liim in oth(T colors, 
one of them in a briglit yellow petticoat. But a 
red cap in Italy goes by you, in)t like a mere cap, 
muchfcs any thing vulgar or butcher-like, but like 
what it i-J, an inten-se specimen of the color of red. 
It is like a scarlet bud in the blue atmosphere. 
The old boatman, with his brown hue, his w])ite 
rhirt, and his red cap, made a complete picture ; 
and 80 did the women and the yellow petticoat. 
I have seen pieces of orange-colured silk hanging 
out against a wall at a dyer's, which gave the eye 
a pleasure truly nensual. Some of these boatmen 
are very fine men. I was rowed to sliore one day 
by a nwn the very image of K«'mble. He hail 
nothing hut his nhirt on, and it was really i^rand 
to see the mixed power and gracc^fulness with 
which all his limbs came into play as he \v\\\W^ 
the oars, occasionally twxmw^ Xw^Wwivt -^Wi^AXa 


Autobiography/ of Leigh Sunt. 


give a glance behind him at other boats. They 
generaUy row standing, and pushing from them." 

From Genoa Hunt removed to Florence. 
Having heard, at the former place, nothing 
in the streets but the talk of money, lie 
hailed it as a good omen that in Florence 
the two fii'st words which caught his ear 
were Fiori and Donne — flowers and women. 
He took up his abode at the neighboring 
village of Maiano, on the slope of one of 
the Fiesolan hills. Here he was surrounded 
by classical associations. 

" Out of the windows of one side of our house, 
we saw the turret of the Villa Glierardi, to which, 
according to his biographers, his 'joyous com- 
pany' resorted in the first instance. A house be- 
longing to the Machiavelli was nearer, a little to 
the left ; and farther to the left, among the blue 
hills, was the white village of Sottignano, where 
Michael Ancjelo was born. The house is still in 
possession of tlie family. From our windows on 
the other side we saw, close to us, the Fiesole of 
antiquity and of MLlton, the site of the Boccaccio- 
house before mentioned still closer, the Decameron's 
Valley of Ladies at our feet ; and we looked over 
toward the quarter of the Mugnone and of a house 
of Dante, and in the distance beheld the mountains 
of Pistoia. Lustlv, from the terrace in front, Flor- 
ence lay clear and cathedralled before us, with the 
scene of Redi's Bacchus rising on the other side 
of it, and the Villa of Arcetri, illustrious for Gali- 
leo. Hazlitt, who came to see me there, (and who 
afterward, with one of his felicitous iniHges, de- 
scribed the state of mind in which he found me, by 
saying that I was 'moulting,') beheld the scene 

around us with the admiration natural to a lover 
of old folios and great names, and confessed, in 
the language of Burns, that it was a sight to enrich 
the eyes." 

Notwithstanding his boast of the power 
of " pitching " his soul " from Tuscany into 
York street," Hunt began to long for tlie 
air of his native country. He not only 
missed London, but he missed his native 
English oaks and elms ; and he compares 
the natural features of the two countries, 
like a true Englishman, quite to the advan- 
tage of his own. The fortunes of the Ex- 
aminer and its editors had now come to a 
crisis, and it was necessary to return to Enir- 
land. Our author took leave of Mariano 
with a dry ey<'. ; Boccaccio and the Valley 
of Ladies notwithbtandino-. Before takino- 
leave of Italy altogether, however, he lingers 
to make some remarks uj)on the insect tribes 
peculiar to the south of Europe. We quote 
his description of the fire-fly, well known in 
our own country : — 

" But there is one insect which is equally harmless 
and beautiful. It succeeds the noisy cicala of an 
evening ; and is of so fairy-like a nature and lustre, 
that it would be almost worth coming into the 
south to look at it, if there were no other attract 
tion. I allude to tlie fire-fly. Lnagine thousands 
of flashing diamonds every night powdering the 
ground, the trees, and the air, especially in the 
darkest places, and in the corn-fields. They give 
at once a dehcacy and brilliance to Italian dark- 
ness incoHceivable. It is the glow-worm, winged, 
and fl^'ing in crowds. In England it is the female 
alone that can be said to give light ; that of the 
male, who is the exclusive possessor of the wings, 
is hardly perceptible. ' Worm ' is a wrong wora, 
the creature being a real insect The Tuscan 
name is lucciola, little-light In Genoa they call 
them caee-belle, (ciiiare-belle,) clear and pretty. 
When held in the hand, the little creature is dis- 
covered to be a dark-colored beetle, but without 
the hardness or sluggish look of the beetle tribe. 
The light is contamed in the under part of the ex- 
tremity of the abdomen, exhibiting a dull, golden- 
colored partition by day, and flashing occasionally 
by daylight, especially when the hand is shaken. 
At night the flasliing is that of the purest and 
most lucid fire, spangling the vineyards and olive- 
trees, and their dark avenues, with innumerable 
stars. Its use is not known. In England, and I 
behevc here, the supposition is that it is a signal 
of love. It affords no perceptible heat, but is sun- 
posed to be phosphoric In a dark room, a single 
one is sufficient to flash a light against the waU. 
I have read of a lady in the West Indies who 
could see to read by the help of three under a 
glass, as long as they chose to accommodate her. 
During our abode in Genoa a few of them wer« 
commonly in our rooms all night, going about like 
little sparkling elves. It is impossible not to think 
of something spiritual in seeing the progress of 
one of them tnrough a dark room. You only 
know it by the flashing of its lamp, which takes 
place every three or four inches apart, sometimes 
oftener, thus marking its track in and out of the 
apartment, or about it. It is like a little faiiy 
taking its rounds. These insects remind us of the 
lines in Herrick, inviting his mistress to come to 
him at night-time, and they suit them still bettier 
than his English ones : — 

* Their light the glow-worms lend thee ; 
The shooting stars attend thee; 

And the elves also. 

Whose little eyes glow, 
Like the sparks of toe, befriend thee.' " 

The trees of Italy are beautifully and 
skilfully touched upon — the cypress, the 
olive, and particularly the chestnut : — 

" The chestnut trees are very l)cautiful ; the 
spiky-looking branches of leaves, long, and of a 
noble green, make a glorious show as you l<x)k up 
against the intense blue of the eky. Is it a com- 
monplace to say that the castanets used in dancing, 
evidently origiiated in the nuts of tliis tree, eat- 
tagnettc / They are made in general, I bcUeve, of 


Autobiography of Leigh Hunt* 


cockle-fihells, or an imitation of them; but the 
name renders their veffetable descent unequivo- 
cal. It is pleasant to observe tho simple origin of 
pleasant things. Some loving peasants, time im- 
memorial, iall dancing under the trees : they pick 
up the nuts, rattle them in their hands ; and be- 
hold (as the Frenchman says) the birth of the ao- 
eompaniment of the fandango.'' 

Settled once again at his beloved Hamp- 
stead, our poet found amid English scenery 
his "old friend Pastoral, still more pastoral." 
He now strolled about the meadows, with a 
** Pamaso," or a Spenser under his arm, and 
wondered that he met nobody who seemed 
to love the fields as he did. Toryism was at 
this time in the ascendant, and Hunt's lite- 
rary productions were not popular. It was 
not until the rise of Louis Philippe and the 
decline of Tor3rism,that the signature of the 
quondam editor of the Examiner was greeted 
with its former favor. " It is not the best 
trait," he says, " in the character of the pub- 
lic, that they incline to beUeve whatever is 
said of a "man by the prosperous. I have 
since been lauded to the skies for productions 
which at that period fell dead from the 

We will not go with Mr. Hunt into the 
critical analysis of his own poetical produc- 
tions, though many of his remarks thereon 
are as racy as the poems themselves. This 
method of commenting upon one's own pro- 
ductions is not altogether unauthorized. Mr. 
Hunt gives for it the example of tho old 
Italian poets, with Dante at their head. He 
regrets that Shakspeare had not been his 
own commentator, and Spenser given eluci- 
dations respecting his Platonic mysticisms 
on the nature of man. He would have en- 
joyed " a divine gossip with him about his 
woods, and his solitudes, and his nymplis, 
his oceans, and his heaven." 

Our author enlarges also upon his numer- 
ous prose works, and the publications for 
which he wrote as editor and as contributor. 

These were, besides those already mentioned, 
the Tattler^ a daily paper of four folio pa- 
ges, which he wrote entirely; the True 
Sun, to which he contributed, as also to the 
Edinburgh and Westminster Reviews ; the 
Monthly Repository, a Unitarian magazine ; 
the Lcmdon Journal, and the Seer, which 
now stands as a companion to the Indicator, 
His dramatic productions were, The Legend 
of Florence, The Secret Marriage, Lover's 
Amazements, The Double, and Look to 
your Morals, — all of which were failures. 
In addition to these and his volumes of es- 
says, poems, &c, " I have written," he says, 
" one more book, small, and still in manu- 
script, which I can take no pride in, which 
I desire to take no pride in, and yet which 
I hold dearer than all the rest." This vol- 
ume, it appears, is upon the subject of reli- 
gion, and has appended to it his " Chris- 
tianism, or Belief and Unbelief Reconciled,^ 
and is promised to be shortly pubhshed. 

We cannot better take leave of our old 
friend than by quoting a few characteristic 
words of his own, descriptive of his present 
life :— 

" With the occasional growth of this book, with 
the production of others from necessity, with the 
solace of verse, and with my usual experience of 
sorrows and enjoyments, of sanguine hopes and 
bitter disappointments, of bad health and almost 
unconq^ueraole spirits, (for though my old hypo- 
chondria never returns, I sometimes undergo pangs 
of unspeakable will and longing, on matters which 
elude my grasp,) I have now passed, in one seques- 
tered tenor of life, almost the whole lapse of 
years since I lost my friend in Italy. The same 
unvaried day sees me reading or writing, ailing, 
jesting, reflecting, rarelv stirring from home but to 
walk, interested in public events, in the progress of 
society, in the * New Reformation,' (most deeply,) 
in things great and small, in a print, in a plaster- 
cast, in a liund-organ, in the stars, in the scene to 
which the sun is hastening, in the flower on my 
table, in the fly on my paper while I write. (He 
crosses words, of wh ch he knows nothing ; and 
perhaps we all do as much every moment, over 
diviae;>t meaning)" 

The Decenniad. Jan 




O FRIEND, absent in form and soul, from me ! 

Once dear, by cruel madness long estranged ! 
Again I stand, and seem to talk with thee, 

By this fair stream, that hath in nothing changed, 
But now, as ever, with mild murmm* flows 
On to her solenm lake and deep repose. 

The tenth year mingles with eternity, 
Since we together, from the windy crest 

Of yon dark mountain, saw the victory 

And chase of evening clouds, when on the west 

They moved their misty ranks, in dim array. 

Ensanguined by the Parthian shafts of day. 

We saw, still gloiious in his fall, the sun 

Touch the red mountain with his burning shield ; 

And when the silver planet had begun 
Her triumph sweet above the azure field. 

We turned, and by a mountain torrent led. 

Went unseen through dim bowers along its bed. 

The leafy bosom of a mountain, crowned 

With rock-grown cedars, where the secret rills 

Creep through fall'n leaves and imder hollow ground. 
Inward and downward : a dead shadow stills 

Th' abyss ; and there the waters gathered are. 

Unwitnessed, save by some high-climbing star. 

Down through the gorge we took our silent way, 
While each for each th' opposing fohage turned, 

Till burst upon us the far-shining day, 
That now on all the vast horizon burned 

Her final fires, and in the failing east 

The golden honors of the day decreased. 

Lo ! where the mountain slides into the plain, 
Covered with cedars and close- woven vines, 

The cliff-bom waters, welling forth again. 
Flow in a crystal torrent that aye shines 

With all the varying colors of the sky, 

Broken and brief, a brilliant phantasy. 

1851. The Decenniad, 55 

Quick at the fount the living waters play, 

Then laughing down the verdurous grade they run, 

Like troops of children, of a holiday, 

On a grassed playground, sloping to the sun ; 

The roguish ripples, dancing with delight. 

Twinkle and glow like diamonds in the light. 

Then genther flow they among isles of grass, 

And promontories green, till calm and wide 
They move reluctant, swaying as they pass 

The anchored lihes, that companioned ride 
With fleets of floating foliage broad and green, 
And cups of flowery gold that glow between. 

The scythe-ripe meadows greenly stretched afar. 
Where the long waters wound, obscurely shining ; 

The wakening aire kept up a breezy war 

With grass and trees their sudden flights confining ; 

The broad hills billowed in the windy chase 

Down their green sides, from brow to gloomy base. 

Soft came the airs, with leafy murmurs sweet, 

And sensuous trill of insects in the grass ; 
Mild whispere, heard when day and darkness meet, 

That move an inborn music as they pass. 
Tuned by the wheel-strokes of a distant mill, 
Now plashing loud, and now a moment still. 

Gradual, o'er all, the mountain sent his shade, — 
Though yet, from wostorn clouds, a ruddy beam 

Glowed on the watere, playfully delayed 
By shallow rii)ples on th* impatient stream. 

That would not let the troubled splendor lie 

In the deep hollow of the nether sky. 

Still at each windy lull it sought its rest 

In the calm bosom of the blue profound, — 
Like Faith's clear \ision in a ])eaceful breast, — 

Then broke in passion ; when with hiisty sound 
The wind awoke, and stirred the leaves, and flew, 
Traihng his skirt along the trembling blue. 

The far wheel ceased, the swelling sluices roared, 

The mill-bell tinkled in the twilight air ; 
Sweet sounds that o'er the dewy landscape poured 

Remission blest of industry and care ; 
Vespera of labor, when with merriment 
The sons of toil all smiling homeward went. 

Their children meet them half the pleasant way. 
And hand in hand the sons and fathers walk ; 

The happy mothere chide their long delay. 
While on the grassy lane they, Hngering, talk : 

Young swains and hoary tillers, how the State 

Should be advanced, and who are truly great. 

56 I%0 JheemUad. Jn. 

Then heart of youtli and tender sympathy 

Drowned the slow rising of those manlier strains 

That move me now : for, O lost friend ! to thee 
And me alike, the world with its fierce pains. 

Its mad ambitions and proud agonies. 

Was but a figment of masked tragediea. 

We read, or seemed to read, in Nature seen, 

An unknown Power; whose hand aesthetical, 
In beauteous life and leafy conootOBe green, 

In hiDs and streams, and the fiir-thundering &11, 
On wind-worn mountain and tumultuous sea, 
Moulds the fwr earth— «hapes it eternally ! 

It was a mild Philosophy, whose head 

Shone with bri^t herpes like glowing flowers, each day 

Renewed ; and she her willing votaries led 

Throu^ many an antique, long abandoned way, 

Amid the o'erthrown primal temples, dim 

Inscribed with holy truth, in legends grim. 

Or wedding sweet yerse to a piteous air, 

The daisy-crown6d muse, friU innocent, 
Bewailed in leafy nook some love-sick firir. 

Weeping her mate in weary banishment ; 
Sad stops and tearful melodies, that gave 
An echo to the wind and moaning wave. 

Or in a pensive passion pacing slow 

Along the margin of a ree^ run. 
She marked the maiden lily that doth show 

Her snow-white, odorous bosom to the sun, 
Hot ravisher, that with too ardent beam 
Kisses the tender beauty of the stream. 

Then came the Druid of soft Windermere, 
And charmed us to his pleasant wildernesses ; 

Bard of weak passions, impotent to cheer 

The strong heart bending under stem distresses. 

Poet of silly griefe and witless woes. 

Great singer of small joys and mighty shows I 

How swift the primal curse. Necessity, 

Nipped all your wormy fruits and idle fiowen ; 

Searing their roots with acrid poverty, 

And blighting their pale leaves witli Intter showers : 

Long fallow time it needed, ere a hand 

With useful fruitage came and crowned the land. 

*' Qod is in nature." Aye, but in man most ; 

And who would worship, let him not faSi down 
To seas or mountains, or even to the host 

That diadem the night Man wears tlie crown 
Of the creation, and in him we see 
Tlie reflex, sole, of true Divinity. 

B51. The Decenniad. 5? 

Nay, worship God alone : be thou a man, 

And not man's worshipper, nor Nature's. Show 

The power of freedom. What young Freedom can. 
Were it not worth a martyrdom to know ? , 

If thou wilt rhyme, then be thy manly verse 

Made for a pa^iot's praise, — a traitor's curse. 



Has the New World no passion fit to move 
Heroic numbers ? Must the Uberal air 

Still ring with verse that girls and boys approve, 
Melodious lust and musical despair ? 

Then be despised the idle rhyming art. 

Unfit for themes that move a patriot's heart I 

Look where the modem epic Manhood stands 
Among the people ! — mark him, you who deem 

Heroes a growfli of other times and lands. 
Or a mere fiction of the poet's dream ; 

Up ! to his grandeur, rhymster, if you can ! 

And future times will deem you too a man. 

Seest not the noble front, — the shoulders large, — 

And majesty of motion, that declare 
The hero born, not made ; on whom the charge 

Of empire, inevitable, rests ? He goes. 
Unconscious, toward his fame, and powerful state, 
By character, God's mark, alone made great. 

Clad in the dress of toil, he moves a king 

Of Nature's crowning : his deep voice more feared, 

His smile more valued, than the beckoning 
Of law-made monarchs ; and, penurious reared, 

He laughs at wealth, and with rich eloquence 

Unlocks all hoards and takes his liking thence. 

For all men love him, — aye, all women too ; 

And every native beauty he will scan 
With a moist eye, and tender ; and were you 

Before him, every mark in you of man 
He would discern, and on the instant trace 
The strength, or weakness, written in your face. 

Trust him, and he will love you ; do him wrong. 
His anger blasts you hke a desert wind : 

Oppose him, he is courteous, and will long 
Contend with bloodless weapons of the mind ; 

Force him to fight you, not the raging sea 

More terrible or pitiless than he. 

58 The Decenniad, Ja 

Make men your leaders, people, — if you dare 

Be ruled by men ; but if tbe coward mind 
Kevolts, look you to England : she will care 

Most wisely for you, and provide a kind 
Fit for your needs. Your master comes, behold I 
Sir Plausible, the prince of lies and gold. 

Under the royal mantle England keeps 

A serpent brood ; of whom, from time to time, 

She raises one, and the base creature creeps 
Away to some free land, whose ardent clime. 

Full of intestine tumult and hot strife. 

Soon swells his serpent bulk with vicious life. 

Sunset of England's glory gilds his coils. 

And sheds a gold light on his bloodless face ; 

Ho weaves, admired, his diplomatic toils. 
And ruins statesmen with a gentle grace ; 

Prudent and cool, with tact and bonhomie. 

He ousts the rugged sons of liberty. 

Who can resist his subtle instigation, — 

The bribe and flattery felt but still unseen ? 
Satan deceives a woman — he, a nation. 

With arts more powerful as they are more mean. 
Shame on the coarse tools of Machiavel, 
Supplanted by these new envoys of Hell ! 

Boasting and bold, a different agent comes, 

Philanthropic, without a doubt or fear ; 
To civil discord the fair land he dooms. 

And brags his mission to the public ear ! 
What stays the halter from his hated neck ? 
• Courage, or fear ; our scorn, or our respect ? 

Up, freemen of the North ! look to the spy ! 

Beware the Power that sends him, and seek homo 
Whether amid yourselves no traitors lie 

In specious ambush, working for your doom. 
Up ! iron hands, and swear, if wars begin. 
The steel falls first on traitors for the sin. 

And you, ye pulpit thunderers, with bent brows. 

Hurling God's lightning with a clumsy fist 
Against the altar of our hohest vows, 

Look to the day when you will scarce be missed ; 
Let vain ambition puff you not too high, — 
There comes a breath shall mar your prophecy : 

A breath from Germany, an Unbelief, 

Withering and scorching all your gospel flowers ; 

False Science, and false Art, but falsest, chief^ 
Transcendent subtleties, of rights and powers 

Inherent, whispering mild, with sensual skill 

Teaching your converts' hearts to worship Will. 

851. The Decenniad, ^9 

Think you, proud Hierarchs, self-elect, the Lord 

Has no revenge in store for those who break 
Uriin and Thummim, the nation's seal and word, 

The talisman of freedom, for whose sake 
On hard-fought fields, with gory conquest strown, 
True hearts by thousands fell without a groan ? 

Fell, with the smile of faith upon their lips : 

For in the fatal, bloody fray, they saw 
The young Star of Empire moving to the eclipse 

Of despotism, detested ; and the Law 
Divine made sovereign in the greatest good 
Of the down-trodden, patient multitude. 

Wouldst thou give murderous license to the black, 

Most holy peace-maker ! and bid him kill, 
Li malice for the scars upon his back. 

The master who reins in his sensual will ? 
Dooming to hell nine-tenths of all thy kind, 
Wouldst make a hell here too, thou sordid mind ? 

Freedom is but a guardianship of laws 

Held by the people : but the wolf and bear, 
The assassin and the slave, with harpy claws 

Of insuiTcction freed, raven and tear. 
Are these your " citizens," your " voters grim " ? 
Let Hayti's tyrant answer, — look to him. 

Weakness and wickedness are friends, and then 

This life is made Gehenna, when decrees 
Flow from the hearts of base and feeble men, — 

Forgers of factions and of treacheries ! 
And then come nations to the mortal hour, 
AVhen weak fools put strong knaves in seats of power. 

Lo, the smjirt orator ! his bitter brows 

Knit in the sharp folds of denunciation : 
Fact upon fact and scorn on scorn he throws, 

A madman liui-ling firebrands ! — all his passion 
In the echo dies ; his spirit is not approved ; 
'Tis not by selfish fury men are moved. 

Another comes : Such state no victor king 

Had ever : At his bidding clamor dies. 
Breathless : Anon the silver accents ring 

Clear on the air : Delighted murmurs rise : 
" What majesty of soul his words reveal !" 
Then followed the applausive thunder, peal on peal. 

He spoke of peace, union and brotherhood. 
And the strong passion shook his aged frame ; 

Then ceased, and when the shouting multitude 
Stood trembling, as if pentecostal flame 

Had fallen on all, he with his burning eye 

Followed the shout and sealed the victory. 


^London Assurance,^'' 


Like a gray cloud, that on a sultry close 
Of eve, appals, unlooked, the torrid South, 

He stood, when, all too confident, his foes 
Exulted, deeming his Olympian mouth 

For ever shut : but he with lightning scorn 

Blasted the front of treason newly bom. 

Then burst the thunder of his eloquence, 
Purging the air that sickened with the scent 

Of foul rebellion. Re^ason gathered thence 
New courage, and the exulting Continent, 

All darkened o'er by dread uncertainty, 

Blazed with her Union fires from sea to sea. 

Such be thy rulers, Land, in these more blest 
Than Israel in her judges ! Let the dead 

Lie with their kings : on the great future rest 

The feet of Heaven's true sons. The golden head 

Of empire, rising like the sun at mom, 

Dims the pale stars that did its front adorn. a 





AIB. < 

** And back recoHed, he knew not why, 
Even at the sound himself had made." 

** It if clear that Great Britain does not intend 
to relinquish her hold on San Juan ; and that in 
open and flagrant defiance of her stipulations she 
Btill both 'assumes dominion' and 'exercises' it 
in the most arbitrary manner in Central America. 
San Juan is as effectively " occupied " by her as 
liverpooL These matters must soon come up before 
Congress, and we have a right to expect that both 
Houses will thoroughly investigate them. If ihe 
Clayton and Bulwer Treaty is not regarded in its 
direct and obvious provisions, it is very certain it 
will not be in its more obscure ones. A rigid ad- 
herence to itfl terms should be insbted on, or it 
Bhould be abrogated." — Neva- York Tribune^ Dec, 
4M, 1850. 

"Since the appearance of our last, we have re- 
ceived intelligence which gives us ample reason to 
believe that the recent outrages on American 
rights at San Juan and its vicinity^ have been in 
no manner instigated or countenancedby the British 
Chvemmentf and that they will be promptly re- 
buked if not expressly disavowed. ♦ ♦ ♦ 
That the British officials at San Juan and vicinity 
have been expressly and repeatedly ordered from 
London to refrain from molesting or interfering 

with American citizens or vessels in any port of 
Central America, or upon its coasts, we are fully 
assured; that those orders have ere this been 
received and will henceforth be obeyed, we trill 
not doubt. We are not so clearly assured, but 
have good reason to believe, that the Britif^ oc- 
cupation, protectorate, or whatever it may be 
called, will soon be withdrawn from * Qreytown,' 
and all that part of the Central American coast, 
as we trust it also may from all Central America, 
so that the amicable relations of the two countries 
may be preserved and secured by a full and &ith- 
ful execution of the terms of the Clayton Trea^. 
With this no new treaty is needed, and the with- 
drawal from Nicaragua of the insolent and mis- 
chief-making Chatfield would dispel the lastdood 
hitherto obscuring the prospect of continued waatj. 
"* There really is no excuse for trouble in that 
quarter." — Same paper, next day, {Bee, 5fA, 18&0.) 

** The Express, dilating on the late British ai* 
sumptions and outrages at the mouth of the San 
Juan, says: — 

** ' We beg leave to express the opinion, not 
hastily or unadvisedly given, that neither Great 
Britain on the one hand, nor the Ebcecative or Mr. 


^London Assurance,^ 


Webster on the other, have any such designs as 
are imputed to them by the Snn and IVibune* 

" Will 77te Express be good enough to state 
frankly, promptly, and clearly, what 'designs* in 
reference to this matter have been attributed to 
* the Executive and Mr. Webster' by The Tribune F 
We are anxious to know." — Same paper, day after, 
(Dec. ^tK 1850.) 

" We now notify The Express that we consider 
every such statement in its columns as that The 
THbune had imputed * designs * to ' the Executive 
and Mr. Webster* with respect to the recent 
British outrages in Nicaragua, as the meanest kind 
of falsehood, and as morally of the nature of for- 
gery." — Same paper, day after that again, (Dec. 
nth, 1860.) 

It may not be in accordance with the 
well-known etiquette of Renew circles to 
notice the errors or follies of the newspaper 
proletaire^ or daily talking class ; as unfor- 
tunately the Republic of Letters, like re- 
publics of a more material and less infinite 
existence, is prone to imitate the class dis- 
tinctions and the vices of monarchy. How- 
ever, we, having a profound contempt for 
the mock " respectable," and being disposed 
to assert on all occasions the principle of 
fraternal equality, mean now and then to 
descend from our dignity, when the descent 
can be effected for our own gain, and the 
amusement or improvement of our readers. 
To the large mind of a Re\iew, the loftiest 
political tumbling, and the smallest news- 
paper fanfaronade, abound in themes of 
equally profound thought; and as there is 
nothing below the consideration of the true 
philosopher ; as Sir Isaac Newton made great 
discoveries from the falling of a rotten apj)le ; 
so we think in the falling of the Tribune^ 
as recorded in the above extracts, our readers 
will find the genn of an elaborate science, 
of which our popular newspaper editors are 
the most facetious and indefatigable profes- 
sors — the science of taking the extreme sides 
of a question in turn, without Ix^ing com- 
mitted to either, and without offending any- 
body. An admirable science, requisite to 
be known that you may get on well in the 
world, and maintain the principles you pro- 
fess, without seeming on the whole to differ 
with principles of a directly opposite char- 
acter; requiring, too, considerable practice 
before you can assume the necessary ap- 
pearance of honest credulity one day, in that 
which you contradicted the day ]>revious, 
and the still more necessary deportment 
of violent and virtuous indignation, should 

friend or enemy hint the remotest disbe- 
Uef in your new assertion. Thus, a writer 
must have "gone in" for the Rochester 
knockings, before he is capable of assuming 
a discreet confidence in the assurances of 
Sir Henry Lytton Bulwer and the honor of 
England. And though we cannot pretend 
to determine what amount of creduhty the 
Tribune may have acquired, after such ex- 
ploits in the imaginative and the ridiculous, 
we are inchned to think the assurances 
which may enable it to shirk a question 
involving the national honor and the en- 
durance of the United States, and devote 
its remarkable energies still further to the 
popular exhibition of " Abolition " gambols, 
must be very welcome and very slight in- 
deed. It is highly amusing, no doubt, to 
observe the bagatelle at which, as exam pled 
in the above extracts, the two leading Whig 
newspapers of this city are playing. "We 
can well appreciate the dislike any Whig 
organ would have, in the present aspect of 
aftairs, to incur the charge of imputing un- 
worthy designs to Mr. Webster. But to be 
just to Mr. Webster, it is by no means ne- 
cessary to be unjust to our country, or to 
abandon without protest, and even with a 
slur, American shij>s and American citi- 
zens to the outrages of Sir Henry Lytton 
Bulwer, and his Grey town police. Nay, it 
is unjust to Mr. Webster to couple confi- 
dence in him with confidence in the as- 
surances of the British Ambassador, or of 
his congenial superiors, or of his obedient 
servants. Mr. Webst^-r's eminence, and the 
public tnist in his integrity, cannot be in- 
creased by coupling him with a man whoso 
honor has been several times publicly behed 
since his arrival in this country ; or with the 
public fiiith of a foreign government which 
stands arraigned Ix^fore the world of having, 
at one and tlie same moment, ratified a pub- 
lic treaty, and broken it. Sir Henry Lytton 
Bulwer himself has, with the characteristic 
cunning of a vulgar diplomatist, endeavored, 
by the use of Mr. Webster's name in ))ublic 
and private, to acquire either the screen of 
a great man's name fur his unworthy du- 
plicity, or to drag down the name now 
most honoredt by the American people to a 
level with his own. And however agreea- 
ble it may be to either of our Whig news- 
papers, to make tlie other sommei-sault with 
the dexterity of one of the liavel family on 
a tight rope, yet if in doing so the honesty 


^London AMunmceP 

of Mr. Webster, which no human being 
doubts, is to bo coupled with British or Punic 
faith, or with faith in the verbal assurances 
of the rcckkss and double-dealing repre- 
sentative of the Russell Cabinet here, whom 
no human being, after wHat has occurred, can 
trust ; if, we say, the honor of tlie Whig 
party, or of any party presuming to rule 
these United States, is to be represented as 
identical with the honor of England, or that 
of Sir Ilenry Lytton Bulwer, then it mast 
ere long fare ill both with that party 
and these United States. Disgrace and 
doom must result to any party or nation 
which is so blind as to pin its feith and its 
interests to public falsehood, or proven 
Ireacher}'. And deeply as we know the 
American nation ti-usts in the integrity and 
national spirit of Mr. Webster— deeply as 
we know it trusts in the political integrity 
against foreign machinations of that party 
which owes its birth and its proudest lau- 
rels to repelling with republican sturdiness 
the aggressions of Great Britain, yet after 
the duplicity and baseness displayed by 
Mr. Bulwer since his arrival in this countiy, 
upon this veiy question of Central America, 
we are confident, no matter what authority 
may endorse him now or henceforth, that 
the people of this Repubhc will never again 
trust in his promises or assurances, or the 
honor of his Govemment. If an American 
party desired political damnation, wo could 
not suggest to it a speedier or easier mode 
of effecting it, than by taking the person 
or character of Sir 11. L. Bulwer under 
its winir. The Tribune cannot have stronor- 
er pei-sonal assurances of the intentions 
of Great Britiiin in one direction, than we 
have public assurances in the other. No 
personal a-surance can be stronger than 
a solemn public treaty, to which with 
good faith pledged, the British Cabinet 
has formally affixed its ratification, the 
seal of its monarcliy, and the signature 
of its minister. The j)archment deception 
known as the Clayton and Bulwer treaty, 
distinctly l)ound, and by Mr. Clayton's decla- 
ration was intended to bind, the British 
Government to abandon the exercise of all 
power, whether as protectora 6r armed oc- 
cupiei-s of Central America.* Mr. Bulwer 

. * We extract from Art, L of the treaty " as 
ratified :" " Nor.will either [^G. B. or U. S.] make u«e 
of any protection which cither affords or may af- 

himsclf^ and higher than Mr. Bnlwer, Lord 
Palmerston himself, together with every 
ag«'Ut and minion from Uhatfield to the la^ 
Musquito policeman, have publicly dedbured 
that treaty naught ; set it at naught ; and 
in oj»en and public \iolation of it have held 
San Juan, arrested and disarmed American 
citizens, detain'. d and threatened to fliok 
ships of the United States on inland Ame- 
rican waters, seized and imprisoned their 
officers, and even comi)elled them to acknowl- 
edge British sovereignty in Central America^ 
by obliging them to call the old SpanoBh 
''San Juan de Nicaragua'' by the name 
given to it under the baptismal hands of the 
reverend Chatfield— in flattery of hia snpeiior 
Lord Grc»y — "Gre}iown." These outages 
have been unremittedly practised — and are 
now being practised. And while a pabGo 
treaty is thus belied, the man must be venr 
lu-bane to the ser^ ants of the Britaah em- 
bassy, or very worshipful of editorial tum- 
bling, who will attach to any verbal aflBor- 
ances, though they may be quite sufficient to 
stultify a legion of editors, the smallest credit 
Not that we mean to say that no assuranoei 
have been given — ^nor do we mean to say 
they may not have been beheved, even in 
presence of the manifold evidences readung 
us by every mail from the Isthmus, diiedif 
belying them. Mr. Bulwer, or SLr Hi^nj 
Lytton Bulwer, if he pleases, is a man of 
the most confounding assurances. He an- 
sured Mr. Clayton of his deep respect, wink 
he wjis writing a letter to Mr. Chatfidd per- 
sonally efwrespectful of our Government and 
Secretary. He assured Mr. Clayton of his 
own good faith, and the good &ith of bis 
Government, in fabricating a treaty, whib 
he was writing to Mr. Chaffield to disregard 
and break that treaty. His conststeni 
double-dealing has only been matched bf 
his singular effrontery and most remarluAw 
success. A polite man of the world, he ii 
assiduous in his flattering attentioiia, ani j 

ford, or any alliance wliich either has or may har^ 
to or with any Stato or people, for th* pprpots I* 
. . . oiocaipyififf, fortifying, or coloniangificanigl 
Co:<>ta Kioa, the Mo£>quito Coast, or any part 
Central America, or of assuming or 
dominion over the pamc.*' 

Tlie entire treaty has been already pnV 
It would bo the more uscleaA to repubiiaa it^ wrili. 
rccklcAs violation by the British authoritiei^aDd 
the defence of that violation b^ Lord Palmeirtai 
and Sir IL L. Bulwer, have rendered it, as biadHC 
on us, null and void 



''^London AsmranceP 


perfectly surcharged with as.suranc(»s. A 
few (lays before Zachary Taylor's doatli, he 
assured the l^altimoreans tliat nothiiiu: in 
histor}^ was equal to l^ueiia Vist^i, o.\co}>tiiig 
Agincourt. Scarcely was Oeuoral 'Jaylor 
doad, ere he as'=iured Mr. Webster of his 
abyssmal respect ; and assured him further 
of the joy that would be felt by British 
" Public Opinion/' (the same fat genthunan 
who, as he formerly assured Mr. Clayton, 
would be so very nuich dis])leased with any 
alterations we might choose t<^ make for our 
own good, in our own tariff,) on hearing of 
his advent to office. Till Mr. Web-;t«.'r left 
Washington to recruit his overtasked health, 
the assiu-ance of Sir Henry Lytton liulwer 
followed on his he(^ls ; and when Mr. Wel)<t;n' 
journeyed North, Sir Henry L. 13. brought his 
assurances North, too. A polite English gen- 
tleman who would travel from WashinLjton 
to Marshfield merely to dine — who would 
mak'e it his business to wait on the Great 
Exj>ounder in his ahnost native city of 1 Bos- 
ton — who would, on his journey houK? to 
Wjishington, seize two jmblic <;j>p<n-tunitics, 
at a Scotch dinner, to att'.'ni])t a glorifi- 
cation of Mr. Webster at the expense 
of Mr. W<'b3ter's country, (a glorilioation 
doubtless hi<]fhly jvratifvini; to that ijentle- 
man;) who could niu>ter e.)o!n;'Ss enough, 
while he was dishonestly bn-aking a tr«'a(y 
}iinisi.*lf h.'td made, and dishuuestly plinulor- 
ing a weak and friendless Republic of its 
noblest territories — and in so doini"- avow(d 
he was ])ursuing tli:- policy of his (J'.nerii- 
ment — who could, wo say, muster sullieu'nt 
c«j<jlness, in Jht'irahtcihlictH^ to assu;e some 
inhabitant^ of Xew-Voik of his earne-t wish 
that, over the doors of the Augi'aii stable; in 
Downing str^n-t, were in erib:.'(l tlic Wi>:ds 
*' Honesty is the be>it jK)liey" — a-ii urban*' man 
of such whol«'-souled assurance; of such af- 
fable attentions, of such ^traiglitforward de- 
portment, and of suchexiravag:iiit duplicity, 
must l>e a very seductive ])ei-son — and withal 
worthy of belief. And if by such arts he 
was enabled to hold up Mr. Clayton to the 
derision of his country, and, at the same time, 
make it a])j)ear that he enjoyed th.* unlimited 
confidence of men in ])ower — whom we all 
know to be astute lawyers, stvrn rv'pub- 
Hcaiis, and ard-nt patriot^, enjoying tiie 
confidence of the people — how is it to b^' 
wondered that even a wink tVom one of hi> 
subordinates in Barclay street should mis- 
lead an uasophlsticatcd editor, pledgod to 

the Rochester knockings and the meliorative 
mission of Mr. George Thomj)son? No 
doubt, assurances have lx*en given; and in 
antaijonism io assurances from such an am- 
ba<s;ulor, Jwmo /actus ad unguem^ a com- 
l)lete gentleman, as he is,* how could a simple 
republican editor, were he even the steei-s- 
man of a i)arty, place any reliance — place 
the smallest reliance, upon the fact of a 
I)ul)lic treaty Ix'ing publicly ignoivd ; upon 
the facts with reference to the British flag 
over " Greytown," ci-devant San »Juan de 
Nicaragua ; with reference to the seizure, ran- 
sacking and detention of the steamer Director, 
an Ameiican ship in American waters, and 
the imprisonment of its officers, citizens of 
the United Stcit<^s — how, we say, could any 
of these facts, being merely facts, and not 
assurances, be beheved ? 

Yi)V yi'ai-s now the Britb^h policy of con- 
verting Central Ainerica into a Transatlan- 
tic llindostan, havini; "factories" on its 
ct^asts to control the trade of the Pacific, 
and ]'olic> organizations in the interior to 
grow cotton and other products for British 
manufacture, has been publicly avowed, and 
slowly but consistently practised. The pre- 
sent possession of either coast of Central 
America would in-ure, in the future, these 
objects; in.\ure further the "annexation" 
to the Mos([uito Kingdom (cajntal "(U'ey- 
town ") of Mexico, and the golden san<ls of 
tli(.' Sacramento; would injure still further to 
Gr.'at Britain on our southern Hank, that 
ji(>ition in military strategies, which in 
two uai« she has already used to the dc- 
.Uruction of (>ur comm»'rce and shippinor 
and the slaughter of our citizens, from 
Canada on our northern Hank, and from 
X^'wfouiidland, the Bermudas, and the West 
liidie-; in our front; in fact, would give her 
the conunand of (»ur whole frontier, north, 
ea^t, an<l south. This future British Amer- 
ic.-in enij'ire is now embosomed in (Jrey- 

* Vih' IJailoy on ''The Formation of Opinions." 
We ined at colle.i]je, loni^ ago, to translate this 
pa- >:ige, '* An ambassador <l(jne to u turn;'' but, 
unfortunately, {\\{\ ambas-a-lor is n'>t done in IhU 
in-(ance ; (jiily ^•r. Tliercjure let the ])re.'ent 
tran-!aiiu;i stand. It is ji:ou(l — the only objection 
we can make to Horace's phrase, a^ re^^irds'sir H. 
L. J}., i-; that tlie *nnil," whicli tlis person (Sir H. 
L. V).) is at present u.-ini;. should ))e roi^arded, as it 
i-=, "a talon.' liowevt r, we h-ave th(; matter to 
Ilevne, Dacier, Fenclon, McCaul, Anthon, and 
Bailey on tlie Formation of 0})inions. The above 
transLation is good — ^you will iiud it in A.\\V.\v2kv. 


^London AnwrwueeP 

town, to spring thereout, extending \Ai by 
bit over this vast continent; or to be therein 
scotched and trodden to death. Ah*eady it 
has extended its flag or its protection over the 
entire Atlantic coast from Yucatan to the 
Isthmus; and one great portion of the 
territory now virtually held by it, viz., 
the former Republic of Costa Rica, has 
been seized, or, which is the same, taken 
under "Greytown'' protection, since the 
Whigs have assumed the executive rule of 
the United States, and smce the ratification 
of the Clayton treaty, and in defiance of that 
treaty. So far the policy practised has 
been precisely that formerly adopted with 
reference to Madras and its surrounding 
kingdoms. One by one, each in turn was 
protected and swallowed up, till after the 
lapse of but one hundred and fifty years, 
the flag which once but dared to show its 
fjftce on an insulated " factory" on the coast, 
now. floats despotic from Cape Comorin 
over all India, to Cashmere and the Him- 
malayas. So of Ireland, too — starting ori- 
ginally in " protection," the English estab- 
lished a mere outpost : for a hundred years 
or more the people of that island looked, 
without uneasiness, on a little coast ter- 
ritory, called " the Pale," whose garrison 
they cQuld have crushed at a blow, till bit 
by bit their island, too, was swallowed up 
in the Maelstrom of British voracity. At 
this present moment, having utterly ex- 
hausted both Ireland and India, the same 
British policy is in full operation against two 
territories on different continents ; but the ob- 
ject in attaining the control of one is only 
of value when accompanied with that of the 
other. Hong Kong is but the comple- 
ment of Grey town. Having established a 
" factory " on the coast of China, the Eng- 
lish have doomed to slaughter, robbery, ex- 
haustion, and death, a nation of some four 
hundred millions. But to be enabled to 
secure to the Chinese that beneficent doom ; 
to be enabled to transport to the Empire of the 
Sun marauding armies and pohce agents ; 
and from it, wealth, teas, rice, silver, raw cot- 
ton, and food, tlie passage by the Isthmus 
of Central America mast bo held. Hence 
Greytown ; hence Chatfield ; hence Bulwer ; 
hence speeches at Scotch dinners, polite 
assurances to Mr. Clayton, polite requirements 
upon that gentleman, that Palmei^ton let- 
ters and other information, furnished to the 
people by editors, should be suppressed, and 

Ve^ifrom the people ; henee jomrnejii^ to 
Manhfield, we doubt not with similar lequetli 
imd assurances, and the like. Startiiig with a 
chum so insulting to common seme and de- 
cency, that an American should onlyaiisirQr 
it with a blow, the claim of protediiig the 
head of a diseased Indian with a crovB, 
whose posterior region they should fint 
protect with a garment, the Endidi hate 
dailned and sei^ the whole Atiantieaea- 
board of Nicaragua, seized and held its 
capital, ^*' Greytown," and laid holdybymeans 
of suborned traitors and pensioned ipies^ of 
the entire Costa Rican BepuUie— to «j 
nothing of the open seizure and lawlem po»ei 
sion of Kotan, the strongest naval post betiiMi 
New-Orleans and the Isthmus. Tbmb aeb 
have been followed up by gross ontn^^ w 
the persons of our citizens, and <m our sh^ 
ping; by insult to every man, whtUMr 
United States or Nicaraguan citiien, iriioB 
the English wished to make feel and reecMadM 
their usurped authority, lliey have -Mei 
followed up, too, by public out 
our country .on the part of the 7 
sador at our ^^ court " ; by his pnhlidlj decihr' 
ing his intention to break a trea^ he hid 
himself signed ; by his writing a pnyato db- 
creditable letter to one of his undeifiagsk 
Nicaragua; by this underling pabBd^ will- 
ing an official letter to the xVendent ^ 
Nicaragua, re-echoing the sentin^nti of \m 
superior, and representing us to our dlv « 
men incapable of perfeding oar pledged 
faith, and as men, aforethought, treadbfliow 
to our honor — as powerless at best^ and fa 
reahty ^' pretended friends." The sahitBy 
experience Sir Heniy Lytt(m Bulwer ae- 
quired in Spain, prevented him firom pei^ 
petrating against this country in his owa 
person Qiese impertinent outrages ; Imt It 
ill becomes Republican simplicity, or itiildjr 
Repubhcan manhood, or KepubUcan ftitt^ 
to retain at our capital, or receive at<Mr 
private tables, or permit to be dieeradJft 
public banquets in our chief city, an M- 
bassador so utterly forgetful of dia 
dition which protects his person from 
ment, as to treacherously belie our eoutv^ 
to a faithful, though weak ally, aai^-^ 
cowardly as not to dare to do it witt;' JSk 
own hand, but to employ that of an iMh 
sponsible underling. These oulnurai| fidA 
the ^' protective " seizure of Costa BiQatel|i 
pilkging of the Director, imd the iiMdd% 
falsehood of " pretended ith*' <» our^ yai(; 



"London Jtmranct.'" 

}mn been, otic and all, j>orpetrat..d, wo re- 

£U, tntliiu the jiast twu yc-ivra. Once 
ndj has iLa jVni^riean uatioo be«n 
bHil 0[> to the jecis of maDkmd, ua a nii- 
tioD "O dewiid of llepublican fimitiesB, that 
jt (UtmI not assert iu dignity or iu rigbu ; 
fH ■ p«(>i>lc «o (leToid of diplomatic skill, 
try ^K^dneH, and the t;ict of a com- 
\jKwmr, tliAt, when it did sloop to 
», it ^reed to such oa were wotthtefB 
|» OW sims, and hostile to our iatereats. 
Tbt Whig, pirtjr has it now in its own power 
It* mtoru tli« honor and character of our 
«outiy. jumI save Ctatral America, and 
CuUf « Urge soctico, if not all of this cou- 
Gamt, frwn the iaia of India — a dOa to 
which tho Chhiesc poople arc already dis- 
tiiMal, vd in which wc see grovelling the 
&inijo<« cf ludia, and Uio Celts of Ireland. 
Wc t^i-t-ait thus phunly and openly what 
«« )uK>w to h:! ihc 84-nlimcJiU of a largo and 
AcvAoing tmtlion of tlm AmrrJcaii j>eopio. 
Wh«lp\vx bt il* nnmf, Uiat party will coni- 
mnd tba Aiii>:rriaui ]>cople which goverm the 
try, Cir tlio Couutr)*'* good. More than 
Antrican f»aty nlicady ha^ bocJi rent to 
■, bj British wiles — has folded to the 
Jmfhmtey, unworthy of a republican, 
and UUn from o&cc amid the excerationR 
of itt own "Upporteiv;. Fruiii the AlitnlaBS 
<{ the e!J..r Adams, ly the surrender of our 
terhlMA' uD the Sortliwiasl by ['resident 
V'Jk, this Irwon hw been oneii enough 
rarcn, (u prevent the necewity of tlie Anier- 
■aa m^oD receiving it again M our ex]>eiise. 
If the Whig ["Orty i* to bo drivnn from ofHce, 
ht it nut be, in G<A'i tuuue, on grounds , it 
vuiiU ouike an Amcricau biu>h to defend — 
l»t thi-ai Dot be di^uiiud iu partisan defeat to 
Um wU>M|ujr of political diKhotior— let not 
ibi- altpniadte Ik- put to its uiembeni, of 
Ktnaiuing laithfiil to mistaken friends or 
kvoJ-winked leadun, ur tailliliil to tlis intor- 
Mls and ItODor uf tlieir i:i)untry. For now 
Ua ^ean tlial jmrty have held the reins of 
sAk, havinft t[Ukturt<(l in opposition a na- 
tiuuij ifuUcv and a tumniercial syMlera, by 
Uk- oUb&hnu-nt of which akme uur coun- . 
by cMi over iwiune tho consiabucy of a 
aMioa. or iiti^iin lb.' ^Wy of an empire, 
Itaing i! . 11. ■ ii_;|.. pi-jijciple of iw 

Hliey !.:< ] : itnd now, with 

Uf it^ ;< .,ii'>'d, u-o cannot, 

Mibri'ii..: i.^iii!,. -.,- i half with the 

KBSwal of Uial gimw of ebip-trap, diplo- 
■aiii^ pu-ih-ptn, awl tint luti;G:tr tiufierance of 


British ag^re^iuu U]iou tho scutheiii shorte 
of our euuliiieni, which has been played 
before tlie people tlirough the first hiklt' of 
the Whig ofBcial term, and which, if con- 
tinued, tnosl make the nation, its govevumeiit, 
and it» manhood eupreiuely I'ldiculous. 

But atwurancne that tbeae British aggrca- 
uons will cea^Q have been given by BrilUh 
agents. Well — granted. Assurances, may 
buivo even been given that the entire Bri^b 
usurpation over Central America will be utter- 
ly and for ever witJidrawu. All these assur- 
ances were given before to Mr. Clayton; were 
publicly given, and by pubUc tn-iity wero 
publicly ralitied. But the treaty has been 
equally publicly broken, and the assuraiicea 
denied or laughed at. Not once or twice 
or thrice only, have these foul Cnlsehooda 
deceived a minister, and been foisted 
on the public ear — again, and again, and 
again, lajive they been repeated, with the 
result. How oflen must an Amerieau 
be deceived, ere he isawareofthemendacily 
of die deceiver 1 How often must inu- coun- 
try be held up to the derision of the world, 
by the machinations of on unprincipled 
diplomatist! "QuousquB tandem, Cali- 
Ijna, obutSre pationtk nostra )" — Quousqne, 
quousquo 1 Not once again will the Ameri- 
can tteople submit to such ^>ase deception. 
Not ouce again will Ihey place the siuallest 
reliance on private assurances, while the 
broad facts of a hrokej] treaty, and a doiien 
Hmilar assurances from the same quarter 
publicly belied, stand staring tlicm in tiio 
liice. The only assurance the Auipricjm 
public will take is this very plain cmc, iho 
transportation of Mr. Chatfield to the Co- 
lonial Office, with his "Greylown," his 
"flag," his "Britisli supremacy," his "pro- 
t*cli*"o treaties," his war 6lou|>s, his "po- 
hce," his "Mosquito" crown, and tlio imper- 
tinent letters of hiniself and Sir Ui iirj- Lj-tton 
Bulwer along wilJi him. The Briush Qor- 
enjmeut and its reckless representative here, 
utterly mistake the spirit of tlie American 
people at the presi'nt day. if they fancy for 
an instant that our country will luially |>er- 
mit any European monarchy t^j re-plant ito 


^.■d |i 

n Ihl. 


pricvoii>lj at fault if tlvj fornix. Iririii.-u 
iliey have been enabled to disregard It in 


^^ London Assurance^ 


Europe and Asia, they will be permitted to 
infringe it on this continent. To the estab- 
lishment of that principle the United States 
owe their existence, and for its maintenance 
against any and all aggressors the people of 
tlus country have already more than once 
staked their national sword and their national 
honor ; and are ready to do so again. It 
may suit the pay-masters of the LoTidon 
Times, to exhibit printed schemes for the 
creation of a " balance of power " on this 
continent; to make such disposition on paper 
of the territories of America as will reduce 
to a nonentity the present power of the 
United States, and endanger their future 
existence ; it may suit the agents of the 
British press and Government in this coun- 
try to raise the hypocritical cry about our 
"non-interference in Nicaragua," while thei/ 
are seizing acre after acre, and city after city 
of Central America, establishing therein 
forts and police systems, and subjecting our 
citizens journeying there upon the territory 
of a sister Republic, and upon their proper 
and just business, to outrages unprovoked 
and unpardonable ; but the American peo- 
ple, as a peoj^le, can afford to laugh at the 
ridiculous scheme, and the transparent hy- 
pocrisy, and arc able too to resent and punish 
the outrage. The principle of non-interfer- 
ence is a sound democratic principle, is the 
only democratic principle in the law of na- 
tions ; but it is a part of the law of nations, 
is to be respected by every nation equally, 
and, if not respected by any one, is to be 
maintained by the others with the weap- 
ons recognized by the law of nations, and 
the law of manhood and right. The United 
States have pledged themselves by treaty to 
observe it towards Central America : they 
desire neither dominion nor control there ; 
they desire only to see their allies, the Re- 
publics of Central America, preserved in 
their integrity and freedom, and they are 
determined that no European nation shall 
interfere there to their injury, much less 
wrest away the territory of our alhes for its 
sole gain, and avowedly for our injury. If 
" non-interference " is to be maintained, it 
must be equally maintiiined ; and to quote 
that principle in this instance as a ground 
why we should permit British outrages in 
Central America to pass with impunity, 
(thro>ving out of consideration altogether 
the violation of the Clayton treaty, and the 
more recent outrages on the persons and 

property of American citizens,) is to quote 
the law against trespass, to prevent a man 
shooting down a ruffian who is about setting 
your very next-door neighbor's house on fire. 
To re-establish the principle of "non-inter- 
ference" on this continent, we must drive 
the English out of " Greytown " and its 
dependencies. The principle on which they 
assert their right to be there, is one which 
the United States will never recognize as a 
part of the law of nations. K the British 
had a right to enter the territory of Nica- 
ragua with an aggressive force and against 
the declared will and protest of the Nica- 
ragiian government and people, and crown 
therein a semi-Indian savage as their recog- 
nized King over that territory, they have an 
equal right to cross the Canadian frontier and 
crown on our soil any Indian of the North- 
west, and take him under their protection ; 
nay, they might recognize to-morrow " Wild- 
cat," or a young Tecumseh, and protect 
either as King of Mississippi, or Monarch of 
Oregon. The principle strikes at the very 
foundation of our Republic, and is incom- 
patible with our existence. It has been used 
for the purposes of plundering an ally, and 
raising up against ourselves, upon our south- 
ern .frontier, a power ha^tile to us ; a power 
to " balance" us, bless the mark ! in peace, 
and hurl invaders and slave insurrections 
upon us in war. Principle, justice, friend- 
ship, our honor, our right to our own soil, 
our future safety, are involved in this issue, 
and it must be maintained. To recapitulate ; 
the American people will not permit the 
tools of an European monarch to interfere 
in the internal affairs of this continent; 
they will not permit a fire to be hghted 
against their side-wall avowedly to bum 
down the roof above them, and be told that 
they must not interfere ; they will not per- 
mit the wedge which has been used to split 
asunder the Central American Confederation 
to be driven up between the territories won 
by the blood of our bravest soldiers and 
this Republic ; they will not permit citizens 
travelling from one State of this Union to 
another to be disarmed by British police, 
imprisoned, searched like common felons, 
and spat upon ; they 'vvill not permit, in 
short, a British flag to blacken with its shad- 
ow another inch of American soil ; and if 
the English desire peace and not war, the 
sooner they understand us the better for 
them. Peace or war are alike to us. 


^London Assurance^ 


We will not evade any present trouble to 
insure future peril to our country; and 
whatever be the consequences, the American 
people are determined, and have heretofore 
expressed their determination, not to permit 
a foreign power to acquire a territory, from 
which, by hedging us in on the south, as 
she already does on the north and east, she 
would be enabled at any time to dictate to 
the United States the terms of a dishonor- 
able and ruinous peace. As we now stand, 
with the finite position of England in Cen- 
tral America, and her exhaustion at home, 
she dare not peril her existence with a 
" blast of war." By the arts of diplomacy 
alone, by unscrupulous felsehood and des- 
picable chicanery, with naked treason to as- 
sist her, can she attain any new footing on 
this continent. And if any such assurances 
have been given by England as those above 
referred to, we are confident they were not 
given with a view to their fulfilment, but to 
appease by small sops the American people, 
to hide under the cloak of good-will the 
dagger and the brand, whiUy and while 
only, the league of Russia, Austria, and 
France, against her dominion in Europe, 
threatens to drag her into a European war, 
and to throw her for her home defence, on 
all the available funds and forces she can 
muster. While the European cauldron 
preserves its present heat ; while the " Ger- 
man question" remains unsettled; while 
" constitutional monarchy " and Prussia re- 
main in peril; while France wavers between 

an ultra-Repubhc hostile to her on one 
hand, and an empire which will require to 
baptize itself in a new Jena, and erase th^ 
memory of Waterloo, before it can attain 
the glory, or efface the fall of its prototype, 
on the other, no new provocations may be 
given to this nation, by outrages hke that 
on the steamer Director, like that of the 
seizure of San Juan, or of the conduct of 
Mr. Bulwer : but assuredly, whenever the 
present " European difficulty " is got rid of, 
they will be resumed, and perpetrated with 
tenfold atrocity and adroitness. But if in 
the meantime we are foolish enough to per- 
mit the hornets' nest to remain fixed to our 
gable wall, because, being in the somnolent 
season, they for the present instant do not 
fly into our windows, and sting us to death — 
if we are foohsh enough, because no more 
" Directors " are at present to be plundered, 
to permit the Cabinet of Greytown to ex- 
tend and consolidate its poHce and empire 
over Nicaragua and Costa Rica — ^we deserve 
the consequences. It will then be necessary 
to relinquish for ever all claim to national 
honor, republican faith, or American mart- 
hood ; or by the blood of thousands of our 
citizens, to be poured out on the plains of 
the Isthmus, re-establish once more the 
right of Americans to America, the hitherto 
untarnished honor of American faith, and the 
hitherto unstained glory of the arms which 
won the war of Independence, and scattered 
to the winds, in 1812, the boasted commerce 
of Great Britain. 


Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers, 



This book is certainly a literary curi- 
sity, — not because of its superior merits or 
rare composition, but because of its singular 
popularity and success, when we compare 
these ^vith its absolute unworthiness. Mr. 
Willis himself has long been eminent among 
a certain class of American htterateurs, and 
his writings have generally been puffed into 
a sicklied notice through their influence ; 
added to the eflbrts of a whole legion of 
venal journalists, whose inferior talents, 
wholly disproportioned to their ambition, 
find always a most agreeable task in com- 
ing to the rescue of poems emanating from 
their chei-ished model, and whose hfe and 
occupation consist in playing an eternal 
and endless game of "Tommy come tickle 
me ;" that, thus, by a method of amiable 
jcollusion, they may hoist their confederates 
-and themselves into an ephemeral notoriety. 

Now, as we, in common with all true 
friends to genuine American literature, have 
a thorough contempt for this species of 
writers and literary representatives, — though 
jthese are not the most objectionable class, — 
and sincerely regard them as obstructions 
to all healthful development of a pure na- 
tional hterature, we have a mind to express 
our opinions quite freely and candidly in con- 
nection with Mr. Willis's book. But we desire 
it to be distinctly understood that no personal 
^itipathies, as concerns our author, prompt 
Us to the task. We have no acquaintance, 
personally, with Mr. Willis. We never met 
him or saw him, to our knowledge, and 
we know nothing unfavorable to his charac- 
ter or reputation; for if we did, we should 
be very far from entering into a review of 
his poems which, we feai*, may justly be 
considered harsh and condemnatory. If 
we had JiDy poi-sonal spleen to vent, we 
should seek a more manly course of satis- 
faction; while we should regard a goose- 
quill ebulhtion of wrath as contemptible and 

ridiculous — ^indeed, dishonorable. We are 
thus particular because we have an especial 
object in view while we go through with 
our task of criticism ; which object mainly is 
to expose the unworthiness of Mr. Willis 
and his coterie to represent American litera- 
ture, and, at the same time, to unfold some 
of the causes which make us, in a literary 
sense, the slaves of Enghsh writers, and the 
mere tools of Anglo-American publishers. 
We shall address our efforts, in an especial 
manner, to this latter class, for we believe 
that they are justly answerable for the as- 
cendency of that herd of venal pretendere 
to literary excellence, whose daily flip-flap 
from job presses not only discourage meri- 
torious and independent competitors, but 
have created such disgust for home litera- 
ture as to divert the interest of our truly 
tasteful and hterary people across the waters, 
and to sicken them at the sight of an Ame- 
rican work. Their selfish and unpatriotic 
conduct is manifested daily. Not content 
with flooding our country with mutilated 
and spurious English books, we are favored 
by these enterprising gentlemen with re- 
prints of foreign magazines and reviews, to 
the serious and ruinous disparagement of 
our American works of that description. 
They go even farther. Their bloated for- 
tunes are sparsely lavished on English and 
French writers, who, unprotected against 
American book pirates, and debarred from 
all pecuniary profits in this country, aqs 
wilhng to w^rite for pennies, rather than lose 
all. A monthly magazine may thus be 
gotten up by influential and wealthy houses, 
which will overmatch American productions, 
as well in quantity as quality of matter. 
American writei-s and journalists are gener- 
ally too poor to write and work for nothing, 
which they must do if they would enter into 
competition with Anglo-American writers 
and Anglo-American publishers. The ab- 

* The Poems, Sacred, Passionate, and Humoroos, of Nathaniel Parker WilUa. Gomplete editicOf 
•levised and enlarged New- York: Clark, Austin & Co. 1850. 



Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers, 


sonce of an international copyright law 
cuts off British writers in Amenca, and, 
vice versa^ cuts off American writei*s from all 
profits in Great Britain, lience, a large 
publishing house like that of the Ilarpei's, 
wealthy, influential, and anti-American in 
feeling as concerns literary development and 
encouragement, may easily swoll their enor- 
mous gains by pampering British writers 
who are legally debarred from copyright 
in this country, and who, poorly paid at 
home, pleasantly condescend to pick up 
pennies from foreign biddere ; while an Ame- 
rican-hearted publisher, devoted to the cul- 
ture of home literature, and forced to pay 
high for good writers, is crowded out of the 

It is not difficult to percdve the drift and 
intent of these prefatory discursive remarks. 
We mean to be understood as endeavoring 
to demonstrate, that we, Americans, owe 
all our Hterary discouragements to Anglo- 
American publishers, who, like the Harpers, 
and one or two other publishing houses 
farther east, employ their vast captial and 
influence to nurse and pillow British writers 
at the expense of American \\Titers. An 
American journal or review, high-toned and 
able m character, is necessarily veiy expen- 
sive, because its contributors must, in general, 
be well paid. But an Anglo-American 
publisher, who refuses high-toned Aniorican 
productions, which are protected by law, 
and casts his bait for British writers who 
have no copyright privileges in our midst, is 
at no expense save that of his paper and 
tjrpe. The last can afford to undersell the 
first, and, of course, obtains precedence with 
the pubhc. Hence, American readers are 
far more familiar with l^ritish novelists, 
poets, essayists, and historians, than with 
those of the United States. Where Put- 
nam or Hart publishes one genuine American 
book, the Harpers can throw out a dozen 
English reprints, of the very first cla<s, at half 
the cost of the first. Thus is America made 
the slave of England, literarily, not for 
want of equal talent on the part of her 
writers, but from the selfLsh policy of large 
and influential publishers. An American 
journalist is underbid by hterary j)oachers 
on British disabilities. The American wri^r 
offers his work to an Anglo-American pub- 
lisher, only to be told that a British work 
of equal merit can be thrown before the 
public free of all original cost. Hence 

American hteraturc is almost in the dust ; 
and when Irving, Cooper, Prescott, and 
some few other master souLs shall have 
passed away, it is gi'eatly to be feared that 
genuine American litorature will be without 
a worthy represeiitative. 

Such are some of the hapless ciuises from 
which has sprung the sickly ascendency of 
such poetry as that of Mr. Wilhs, and his 
numerous confreres. America is without a 
poet, or a poetical prestige. Here, in our 
opinion, is the reason. We have no Byron, 
no Moore, no Walter Scott. The minds, if any 
such have ever been bom in our midst, which 
felt a consciousness, perhaps, of inspiration 
akin to theirs, have shrunk from competi- 
tion with mere handicraft pretenders, or 
else have been deterred by repulsive and 
avaricious publishere. But we have Mr. 
Willis, and, as the Coryphaeus of his venal 
band, it is with Mr. Willis we intend to 
deal. He has habitually assumed to himself 
for a long series of years a species of suprem- 
acy in the second-rate literary circle, which 
makes him pre-eminently fit, and proper, 
and legitimate game for our present under- 
taking. The lofty and self-important tone 
which distinguishes, even yet, his weekly 
editorial bulletins, impresses, and is doubt- 
less designed to impress, all readers with an 
idea of ]m judicial supereminence in literary 
affairs. Nor have we the least fault to fiiid 
with this. On the contrary, we award to 
Mr. Willis a high and enviable degree of 
moral courage in playing his game ; for 
it nmst Ikj confessed, in view of his slen- 
der materials, that he plays his game with 
remarkable address. It is not every day 
that we find a man who has the couraixe to 
put forth and father such a production as 
Mr. Willis's "Sacred Poems," and yet com- 
placently and serenely supererogate weekly 
patronage to all other American poets and 

Nobody will doubt, we imagine, but that 
Mr. Willis has acquired his poetical noto- 
riety by means of a systematic and well- 
directed course of magazine and newspaper 
puffing ; for no sane j)ei'son, we are per- 
suaded, can read his poetry, and trace the 
same to any merits he pc>ssesses in that line. 
We know that puffei*s can do much. We 
know that authors, when j lac d in ceitain 
situations, can do more still, to emblazon 
their works, and snap j)ublic opinion, or 
rather public notoriety. But we coufcssk 


Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers, 


that, to our judgment, neither puffers perse^ 
nor puffed authors par excellence^ ever ac- 
complished a more dexterous or unaccounta- 
ble achievement than when they succeeded 
in puffing Mr. N. Parker Willis into exist- 
ence as a poet. It is no inconsiderable source 
of amusement, we may remark en passant^ 
to sit apart and watch the trickery of now- 
a-day authors, especially poetical authors, 
to create for themselves a saleable notoriety. 
The method is complete, and may lay claim 
to quite a venerable antiquity. The pro- 
prietor of a magazine projects a creditable 
scheme to disseminate agreeable light read- 
ing, mingling with the same fashion plates, 
fancy engravings, and much learned talk 
about tournures and trousseaux. He enhsts 
one or two really talented and able writers, 
and a dozen or two second and third-rate 
writers. The first require too high pay to 
fill up an entire number with their writings. 
Therefore, the last are called in to fill up the 
intervals ; serving the first pretty much in the 
same capacity as common actors, in a stock 
company, serve the "stjir" actor. By-and- 
by the best of the commoner is selected 
forajowj^' offering; and then the clangor of 
editorial clarions begins : " Wonderful genius 
developed, " " unrivalled d^but, " " Tom 
Moore surpassed," " Walter Scott equalled," 
"Byron matched," and many other rare 
and rich specimens of genuine blarney are 
blazoned on the covei"s, and new contribu- 
tions announced from the pen of some 
"newly-discovered, fast-rising, and world- 
eclipsing poet." The whole pack of venal 
pennymen open on the scent, and weeks 
and months are consumed in crying up a 
literary synonym of " Jarley's wax works," 
or Bamum's " Chinese lady." In the mean- 
while, the readers of the magazine are all 
agape with astonishment at their protracted 
obtuseness as regards the merits of this amaz- 
ing child of letters. They have whiled away 
years of intimacy with the author's writings, 
and yet were required to be waked up to 
his accomphshments. The din of tnunpets 
is systematically prolonged ; their ears are so 
continuously racketed with the noise of his 
achievements, that, at length, they read 
everything bearing such a redoubtable name, 
and tacitly consent to have him enrolled as 
a standard author. 

This account will not, we incline to 
think, be considered too overwrought or 
exaggeratory to those who are familiar with 

the reading of the various literary news- 
papers and magazines of our northern cities. 
At all events, we think we may safely say 
that the " Sacred Poems " of our author are 
mainly indebted to this species of collusive 
heraldry for their singular notoriety. And 
to increase the chances of their being shelved 
as standard specimens of American poetry, 
Mr. Willis has thought proper, we suppose, 
to bring them out at this time, in connection 
with other poems, prefaced with a serene- 
tempered, somewhat self-gratulatory intro- 
duction, and quite a pretty picture of him- 
self in one of his most sentimental attitudes. 

Whatever may be our opinions, we are, 
however, constrained to criticise Mr. WiUis 
as a poet. Magazine publishers and news- 
paper editors chronicle his comings and his 
goings, his sayings and his writings, his ad- 
ventures and his onslaughts, as those of 
"the poet." He himself tells us that he 
"has no hesitation in acknowledging the 
pedestal on which public favor has placed 
him." We are forced, therefore, to regard 
such high authority ; and as he looms forth 
to the public eye, self-sculptured and archi- 
traved, we should be wanting in respect to 
" pubhc favor,." not to recognize his claims to 
the name of poet. 

We expect to confine this article mainly 
to a notice of the " Sacred Poems," as these, 
we believe, are generally supposed to form 
the principal cornice of that "pedestal" to 
which our author refers. We must begin by 
saying that they M*e, to our judgment, very 
tame and unsuccessful transpositions of 
beautiful Scriptural incidents. That which 
is intended for poetical ampHfication and 
illumining, pales and flickers beside the un- 
pretending but impressive diction of the 
sacred writers. Indeed, in the progress of 
their perusal, we meet oftentimes, as we 
shall presently demonstrate, with really piti- 
ful and sickly attenipts to retouch and em- 
bellish what has been far better told in the 
original, thousands of years ago, when lan- 
guages had scarcely assimied definite form. 
They abound with expressions which are not 
only shamefully unpoetical, but areunenpbo- 
nious, ungraceful, and improper ; while they 
are most untastefiilly repeated, as applied to 
tljB different characters, and for lack of orig- 
inality of thought, in nearly every poem of 
the series. • 

We cite, as an instance of this striking 
want of true taste in the choice of expres- 


Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers, 


sion, the following lines from the poem of 
" Jairus's Daughter :" 

" The old man sunk 
Upon his knee% and in the drapery 
Of the rich curtains buried up hufaceV 

Also the following from the poem of " The 
Leper :" 

** And in the folds 
Of the coarse sackcloth shrotaUnffup hUface." 

Again, in the " Sacrifice of Abraham," we 
are &vored with the same expression as the 
first, as follows : 

** And Abraham on Moriah bow'd himself, 
And buried up his face j'' <fec. 

In the poem on " Absalom," David is re- 
duced to the same grievous necessity as 
Jairus and Abraham, but the expression is 
slightly varied for the better, thus : 

"He covered up hitface^ and boVd himself," <fec. 

We next find " Hagar" seeking like con- 
solation as her predecessors in the volume : 

"And, shrouding up her face, she went away," <fec. 

The last example to which we shall refer 
in corroboration of our alleged fault against 
" the poet," is found in the poem on " Laza- 
rus and Mary," where the latter, seemingly 
in a sort of mesmeric communication with 
BLagar, David <fe Co., resorts to the very same 
expedient while grieving : 

*' She coven' d up her face, and turn'd again 
To wait within for Jesus." 

Now we contend that the term "buried 
up," or "shrouded up," is not only an un- 
poetical and ungraceful, but a manifestly in- 
correct term, besides being hareh and dis- 
cordant ; not to mention the fact that the 
expression is used six or eight times in short, 
succeeding poems, comprising in all only 
some fifty-eight pages. We had better say 
bury down than " bury m^," for the first is 
more likely ; but the phrase, either way, is 
clearly unchaste — especially when, seeking 
to glide softly through the melodious flow of 
blank verse, we chance suddenly to stumble 
against its roughness. Indeed, we must say 
that Mr. Willis pays quite a poor compU- 

ment to the taste of his readers when he 
supposes that they will charitably endure 
such continuous and ugly repetitions, in the 
absence of all excuse for such, unless he 
shall plead, in extenuation, a want of origin- 
aUty, or an over-desire to obtain those 
"present gains" which, in his preface, he 
very frankly tells us, were more his object 
than was any "design upon the future." 
We might, probably, account for the un- 
couthness of expression more easily. In 
truth, we feel greatly inclined to attribute 
the same less to a want of proper discrimi- 
native powers, than to the feeling of arrogant 
confidence which easily prompts to immod- 
erate self-indulgence and unallowable liber- 
ties, those p^reons who are under the influ- 
ence of that intoxication which is engendered 
by incautious admiration of themselves. 

But more than all, we must seriously ob- 
ject to the justness of that popular award 
which seems to have greeted these poems, 
because of their unpleasing, spiritless same- 
ness and resemblance. They are alike in 
thought, in character, in description, and in 
language, nearly; and if the names were 
not different, and the scenes slightly shifted, 
we might unconsciously mistake Jairus for 
David, and Abraham for Jepthah ; as also 
the Shunammite mother for the widow of 
Nain, Hagar for Rizpah, and Absalom on 
his bier, for Lazarus as he lay shrouded for 
the grave. There is a grating continuity of 
all the essential features and groundwork 
which form each separate poem throughout 
the entire series ; and, even if they possessed 
intrinsic merits, all interest in them would 
be marred and spoiled by so inexcusable a 
blemish. We turn over leaf after leaf with- 
out finding that relief which is so necessary 
when engaged in reading poetry ; that vari- 
ety of thought and description which con- 
stitutes the secret of true poetical composi- 
tion, and without which, as they well know, 
the best of poets become soon insupportjibly 
tiresome. The genius of Spenser and of 
Ariosto is universally admired and admitted ; 
yet no one wades through the Faerie Queene 
or the Orlando Furioso, without wearying 
sadly under the weighty and monotonous 
versification. We do not, by any means, 
intend to compare Mr. Willis or his " Sacred 
Poems" to these fathers of poetry and their 
hallowed chefs d^ocuvre ; we mean only to say 
that he has fallen into their only enor — and 
that, not because he intended to do so on 


Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers, 


tlie ground of allowable precedent, but be- 
cause, although poet-bom as he seems to 
think, he has failed to learn one of the very 
first elements of the ars poetica. Our pri- 
vate opinion is, to say truth, that ther^e awk- 
ward and uncomely transpositions of Scrip- 
ture were squirmed forth by their author 
just as the blank pages of Mr. Godey's | 
" Book" required, or as Mr. Godey's purse 
could afford, monthly offerings to the pile of 
those " present gains." Their arrangement 
and com])osition do not indicate or fore- 
shadow that slumbering genius which, after 
long years have passed, can now inspire its 
possessor with such exultant confidence as 
to herald the pubhcation of his early-day 
poems with an assurance to his readers that 
the " ripeness of poetical feeling and percep- 
tion are all before him." Tlie series forms 
a perfect family, in which the resemblance 
between the various membei's is so great as 
to strike the most casual observer. Each 
succeeding poem is but a transfiguration of 
its predecessor ; and the shade of difference 
is so slight as to be almost imperceptible, 
excepting, as we have said, as to locaUty and 

Sir Walter Scott, in his book on Demonol- 
ogy and Witchcraft, if we may pursue far- 
ther this course of remark, tolls us "of a 
young London gentleman who, from extreme 
nervous disarrangement, was seriously an- 
noyed by a troup of ]>hantoms which ap- 
peared to his Hsion nightly at a certain hour. 
He found it necessary to call the advice of 
a medical gentleman. After examining the 
state of his patient, the physician advised a 
remaval to his country seat. The change 
of scene effected wonders. The patient 
thanked his physician, determined on settling 
permanently in the country, broke up his 
house in town, and broucjht his furniture to 
the villa. But this, alas ! proved to be a 
fatal move. The sijxht of the familiar fur- 
niture revived the unhealthy a'^sociatibns of 
his malady, and he had scjircely retired to 
bed before the whole company of dancing 
spectres re-appeared with an expression of 
countenance that seemed to say to him, 
" Here we all are acjain ! Here we all are 
again !" 

Now this anecdote we take to bo aptly 
illustrative of the character and style of Mr, 
Willis's series of Sacred Poems. We read 
the first and second, and then, for a rest, lay 
the book aside. In a short time we take 

the notion to resume. We natiu*ally look 
for some novelty and refreshment. But, lo ! 
the third is but the first and second, digni- 
fied with a change only of incident and 
name; the same thoughts, the same con- 
ceptions, the same descriptive outlines, ex- 
cept, perhaps, that one transpires at day- 
dawn, another at noontide, and the third at 
twilight or late evening. W^ith the preci- 
sion of a musical box which is wound up at 
intervals, that it may play over the same 
tunes again and again, we find Mr. Willis, in 
nearly every successive poem of his sacred 
series, true to his familinfr portraitures of a 
distressed father, an anguished and doting 
mother, an interesting corpse, and a rauiis- 
tering spirit ; varied only as the scenes are 
made severally to occur by sunlight, or star- 
light, or moonlight. 

But there are, in these poems, other and 
more serious blemishes than those of re|>eti- 
tion and sameness, merely. The diction is 
oftentimes imperfect, and sometimes quite 
obscure. For instance, in the opening hues 
of the poem of Jairus's Daughter, we have 
the following: fines : 

" The shadow of a leaf lay on her ///>«, 
And as it stirr'd with tlie awakening wiiul," dc 

Here is a i)alpable impropriety. The pro- 
noun it must refer to the noun nomiiiative, 
or the sentence is without meaning ; and if 
it be intended thus, the idea is nonsensical, 
for we are at a loss how to imagine that 
"the awakening wind" can stir the shadow 
of a leaf; and yet shadow is the relative of 
it, as leaf is in the objective case. We have 
heard of " .airy tongues that syllable men's 
names," where the scene supposed is min- 
gled with something unnatural or supersti- 
tious ; but, in a plain, matter-of-fact case, 
taken too from Holy Scripture, we have 
never before observed where shadow is so 
complacently made substance. Nor are we 
at all satisfied, as a reader of poetry, or of 
what is meant for poetry, with the figure of 
speech to which Mr. Wilfis here resorts to 
bring forth his idea There is something 
strained in the idea of casting the shadow 
of a leaf on a dying girl's lips. Her bosom, 
her cheek, her forehead, any of the three 
could more properly have been used than 
lips. The whole sentence is mawkish and 
imgainly, even though it had been properly 


Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers. 


A few lines farther, speaking of Jairus as 
he " buried up his face " in the drapery of 
curtains, he thus goes on : 

** And when the twilight fell, the sillcen folds 
Stirred with hi 8 prayer ^ but the slight hand he 
Had ceased its pressure ; and he could not hear, 
In the dead, utter silence, that a breath 
Came through her nostril a ; and her temples gave 
To his nice touch no pulse ; and at her mouth 
He held the lightest curl that on her neck 
.Lay with a mocking beauty,'' <&c 

Here we have again a most obscure and 
incorrect phrase, insomuch that one cannot 
easily imagine how silent prayer can possi- 
bly stir " silken folds." There is, moreover, 
an ungraceful abundance of anatomical de- 
lineation; for we have, in the few lines 
quoted, httle else than a description, in 
regular succession, of hands, nostrils^ temples, 
mouth, neck, <fec., besides the rather odious 
picture of a delicate, dying young lady 
breathing through her nose. 

The seven or eight opening lines of the 
next paragraph will do something better, and 
possess a moiety of prettiness : 

" It was night ; 
And softly, o'er the sea of Galilee, 
Danced the breeze-ridden ripples to the shore, 
Tipp'd with the silver spark k'S of th ■ moon, 
The breaking waves played low upon the beach 
Their constant music, but the air beside 
Was still as starlight, and the Saviour's voice, 
In its rich cadences uneartlily sweet, 
Seem'd like some just- born harmony in the air, 
Waked by the power of wisdom.*^ 

But, after much tamo and badly eoncoivod 
description, we find in the closing paragi-aj)!! 
a repetition of the author's anatomical j-ocu- 
liarities, in a long and fulsome jeremiad 
about " transparent bauds " and ** tiporing .' 
nails ;" " nostrils spiritually thin " and ' 
** breathing curve ;" " tinted skin " and " azure '■ 
veins;" "jet lash" and "pencilled brow;*' 
"hair unbound," "small, round ears," "pol- 
ish'd neck," and " snowy fingers." Each 
noun is regularly mated with an adjective, | 
two, three, or more, as the length of the line ' 
may admit, or as the autlior's invention may ' 
quicken. In the midst of this poetasting ' 
dissection the first of the series closes, ab- 

. The second is taken from the Scripture 
account of a person whom Christ cured of 
the leprosy as he was ])assing on to Caper- 

naum. The incident is narrated by St. 
Matthew in the eighth chapter, second, third, 
and fourth verses of his Gospel, thus ; — 

2. ** And behold, there came a leper and wor- 
shipped him, claying. Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst 
maJie me clean. 

3. *^ And Jesus put forth liis hand, and touched 
him, saying, I will : be thou clean. And imme- 
diately his leprosy was cleansed. 

4. " And Jesus saith unto him. See thou tell no 
man ; but go thy way, show thyself to the priest, 
and offer the gift that Moses commanded, for a 
testimony unto them." 

The manner and style of this pithy nar- 
ration arc exceedingly chaste and impres- 
'sive ; with a melody and simplicity of dic- 
tion, at the same time, that tall agreeably 
on the ear, and are evincive of much closer 
alliance with true metrical harmony, than is 
the pompous and elaborated poem of which 
we are speaking. But Mr. Willis has chosen 
to misconceive the spirit, and to misinteq)r^t 
the facts of the incident — both, too, to the 
disparagement of the gospel version. He 
sets out with a warning flourish of trum- 
pets, and an array of notes of exclamation 
tnily appalling, and which are wholly at 
war >vith the mild and unpretending features 
of the real incident. The Bible scene is 
eminently characteristic of all that was 
lovely in the Sanour's earthly ministrations 
and associations. The portrayal made by 
Mr. Willis in his poem is unstrikiiig, and 
very badly conceived in every respect ; 
while its execution is so flat and common- 
place as to excite a feeling of amazxment 
that the author should ever have been reck- 
oned, or should presume to reckon himself, 
a i)oet. There is, besides, an ungraceful 
])ervei*sion of one of the not least impresrsive 
facts, which robs the story of its principal 
charm. Jesas, after healing the sui)pliant 
leper, bids him " tell no man," but to go 
and "show himself to the priest," and 
oft'er the gift as commanded by Moses. Mr. 
Willis, on the other hand, and with most 
unaccountable want of artistic ta'^te, chooses 
to send his leper to the priest in the first 
instance, and that not to offer "the gift" 
as "testimony," but to soHcit a cure, or 
rather to hear an official affirmation of the 
" doom " which he was already expiating. 
Now we can imagine something peculiarly 
interesting,, as well as suggestive, in con- 
nection with Matthew's story, — of how the 
poor crashed victitn of a loathsome disease 


Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers. 


might fall at the Saviour's feet, and implore 
that compassion which he had heard was 
never solicit^^d in vain ; and, being healed, 
should tlien go to the soul-hardened priest, 
and show himself, as directed, with the gift 
in hand. But we are unable to perceive 
the beauty or force of Mr. Willis's tortuous 
and unnatural vereion, or of the wizard-hke 
malediction which he puts into the priest's 
mouth. We seriously object, also, to the 
application and correctness of the following 
simile, when, speaking of Jesus, he says : 

" Yet in his mien 

Command sat throned serene, and if He smiled, 
A kingly condescension graced his lips, 
The lion would have croucKd ^o in his lair." 

A look of command is always associated 
with pride, or with haughtiness of demeanor, 
or with some physiognomical development 
indicative of superiority. The Sa\iour is 
not thus represented ; but is always hum- 
ble, meek, unpretending, and studiedly un- 
ostentatious ; while command^ in the sense 
intended above, is never evidenced in look 
or word. As for " kingly condescension," 
in connection with the "character of this per- 
sonage, the idea is as absurd as it is misap- 
phed ; and, at the same time, we have al- 
ways loved to imagine "the Hon" rather 
as following and fawning upon so benign a 
being as Jesus, — caressingly familiarized as 
in the paradisal time, — than " crouching in 
his lair " to an awe-inspiring and command- 
ing mfister. We never before met with so 
gross and reckless an onslaught on the 
mildness and meekness of the Sa\iom\ 

The third poem of the series opens thus : 

"Twas daybreak, and the fingers of the dawn 
Drew the night's curtain, and toucKd silently'^ 
TJie eyelids of the king." 

We take this to be, on the whole, the 
worst conceived and most unstriking simil- 
itude in the world. We might very well 
go further, and pronounce it to be the least 
allowable, and certainly the least apt. We 
have often known primer publishers to re- 
present the sun with a great red rubicund 
face ; but we have heretofore failed to find 
an instance where any writer, whether of the 
primer or poetical order, has gone so far as 
to picture the dawn with fingers, Mr. Wil- 
lis's concei)tions must be far ahead of any 
that his readers can claim, to imagine the 
remotest reality or plausibleness of tliis 

unique metaphor. How much of the hori- 
zon, we beg to ask, will Mr. Willis invest 
with his imaginar}' fingers ? We must sup- 
pose tliat he had chalked out sometliing de- 
finite and shapeful in this respect, for we can 
scarcely think that he rders to, or means to 
finger the whole line of " the dawn." Nor 
do we at all sanction the idea of "the 
dawn's fingers touching silently the eyelids 
of the king." It Is something outre and 
unimaginable, and ennces a wofiil lack of 
that fertiUty of thought which is the most 
essential element of a genuine poetical en- 

But a few Hues further on, we meet with 
another figure of speech which, if less al- 
lowable, is at least equally novel and origi- 
nal. It occurs in the last of the lines 
employed to describe David's wont of a 
morning to 

" Play with his lov'd son by ihe/ountaifCs lip," 

It would be, we incline to think, quite a 
difficult task to go about trying to picture 
such a member to such a thing. Mr. Willis 
is either very dull about finding simiHtudes, 
or very reckless, or else very deficient in 
proper discrimination as concerns figurative 
acumen. We know that the Mississippi 
river is said to possess a mouth, in geograph- 
ical parlance; but a poet, unless he pos- 
sessed Mr. Willis's boldness, would scarcely 
venture to clothe such mouth with lips. 

On the next page our author quite coolly 
employs other fingers than those of the 
dawn to perform their morning service — 
when, describing another daylight scene, he 
says : 

"and they who drew 

The curtains to let in the welcome light** 

This is genuine flesh and blood — no unde- 
finable and unimaginable ethereality; and 
looks more like the plain common sense of 
every-day life. The repetition, however, in- 
dicates a scrupulous nicety and distinctneaB 
of description, which is not usual to norel- 
ists or poets. Mr. Willis has a mostinTet^ 
rate penchant to designate the very time of 
night his characters go to bed, the precise 
hour at which they get up, how thej 
washed, how they prayed, and never fails to 
tell his readers that the bed curtains were 
punctually drawn aside by something or 
somebody ; while the altemations of time 


Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers, 


wliich mark each poem \ivify the illustra- 
tion of name which attaches to Bulwer's 
novel of " Night and Morning." • 

Passing over the " Saciifice of Abraham," 
we come next to an expression in the " Shu- 
nammite," which strikes us with its abso- 
solute childishness : 

•* She drew refreshing water, and with thoughts 
Of Gk)d'8 sweet goodness stirring at her heart/' &c. 

Nor have we the least patience with such 
flippant taste as we find evidenced in the 
closing hues of the poem, where our poet 
does not allow his readers even a breathing 
spell — ^but fevors them only with a starry 
interval — ^betwixt the period of the child's 
lingering, "long drawn out" death, and 
his hocus-pocus (d la Willis, we mean) res- 
toration to life by the prophet 

The poem of Jephthah's Daughter, we 
think, begins with entirely too much abrupt- 

" She stood before her father's gorgeous tent' ' 

There is a sort of sneaking resemblance to 
the opening line of Mrs. Hemans's heroic 
poem, Casabianca : 

"The boy stood on the burning deck." 

Or if Mr. Willis and his admiring coterie 
will pardon the allusion, we may rather liken 
it to a smack of the fine old nursery song : 

" Lord Lovell he stood at his castle gate." 

We should suppose from the following, 
from the same poem, that Mr. Willis had no 
very keen relish for a woman's lips, or 
no very nice perceptions of their daintiness, 
or else, having been born and bred in 
northern regions, was unused to the tropical 
growths of the sunny South : 

" Her lip was slightly parted, like the cleft 
Of a pomegranate blossom." 

Now we are not at all of opinion that the 
term cleft when thus applied is an admissi- 
ble expression, for we read much oftener of 
clefts in rocks than in blossoms. We have 
heard of Moses being ensconced in the cleft 
of a rock while God's glory passed along : 
we cannot imagine how Moses could seat 
himself in the cleft of a blossom ; and yet, 
the objects being totally dissimilar, the 
phrase must bo incorrect in one or the other 

case. But we take the liberty to submit 
that " the cleft of a pomegranate blossom" 
is as unUke the parting of a woman's lips 
as it is possible to conceive ; and as the cleft 
of this blossom is by no manner of means 
a very graceful or luscious severance, but on 
the contrary rough and rugged for so gor- 
geous a flower, we incline to think that so 
exquisite a gentleman as Mr. Willis would 
have hesitated about the comparison if he 
had ever seen the petals of a pomegranate 

While describing with much enthusiasm 
the beauty of Jephthah's daughter, the 
poet winds up with the following ; 

" Her countenance was radiant with love ; 
She looked like one to die for it" &.Q. 

After having exhausted description of the 
same anatomical tendencies as pre^'iously 
gone through with in the case of Jairus's 
daughter, and lavished on his young heroine 
every beauty of thought of imagery, we are 
quite too suddenly let down with the expres- 
sion above italicized. To " die for if^ is a 
loose, vulgar arrangement of words, amount- 
ing almost to downright indecency. We 
do not look for such within the pages of so 
neat a book, or from the pen of so courtly 
a litterateur, especially when that pen is en- 
gaged with such lofty and sacred subjects. 
We recollect to have come across such an 
expression in the first pages of the Heart 
of Mid Lothian, where, after the mob had 
broken down the door of the tolbooth, one 
of the number releases an imprisoned fellow- 
bandit, with the advice, " Rin for it^ Rat- 
clifie !" Now, at such a time, in such a 
place, and uttered by such a person, no ex- 
pression could have been more appropriate 
or in better taste. But as applied to so 
lovely and interesting a creation as Jephthah's 
hapless daughter, no set of words can be 
more hai-sh or unseasonable. 

"Onward came 
The leaden tramp of thousands." 

This, again, found a few lines afterward, is 
an incorrect and unfortunate simile. There 
is nothing martial or stirring in connection 
with leaden materials. Lead gives back a 
dull, dead sound. Nor is it possible to under- 
stand or perceive the pith and point of an 
expression which presupposes leaden shoes, 
as it is a metal never used for that purpose, 


Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers, 


whether f(^r men or horses. The last beinjj 
evidently aUuded to, we rather think a son of 
Vulcan would smile at stumblinof on such 
an idea. 

AV« are glad we can reconcile it to the 
task we have \mdertaken, to say that 
we consider the poem on Absalom quite a 
creditable and successful effort, — much the 
best of the sacred series as so far noticed. 
The prettiest lines and strongest descnption 
which occur in the whole series may be 
found, we think, in the poem of "Christ's 
Entrance into Jerusalem." 

" As he reached 
The summit's breezy pitch, thp Saviour raised 
His calm blue eye — there stood Jerusalem ! 

* * * * How fair she look'd — 
The silver sun on all her palaces, 
And her fair daughters 'mid the golden spires 
Tending tlieir terrace flowers, and Kcdron's stream 
Lacing its meadows with its silver band, 
And wreathing its mi«t-mantle on the sky 
With the morn's exlialations." 

The imaoferv here shadowed forth is incon- 
ceivably grand and magnificent, wholly be- 
yond the bounds of the rather contracted 
and too tame description of Mr. Willis. In- 
deed, we have long thought that this most 
interesting 8crii)tural event is eminently 
prolific of wide and glorious themes of con- 
templation, and we wonder that so spiritless 
a writer, poeticidly speaking, as our author, 
should so boldly have ventured to versificato 
the simple and unadorned narrative of the 
sacred penmen. 

We have loved, oftentimes, to imagine 
the incidiMit-; of that eventful raorninnr when, 
seated on the picturesque summit of the 
Mount of (Jlives, the august son of Mary 
gazed sadly, though with the eager admira- 
tion of exj)anded tastes, on the glorious 
beauti(js and resplendent panoramic scenery 
which all around opened to view. And what 
would not his adorers of the present day 
have bartered to have been numbered among 
the little group whose wondering eyes were 
fixed, entranced and bewildered, on the be- 
nign and mysterious young Being whose 
li])s were giving utterance to that gloomy 
prophecy which announced, in mournful 
strains, the approaching calamities and woes 
of Zion ! 

" There stood Jerusalem !** 

Tlie early rays of the sun dispensed, per- 
haps, a cheerful hue over the scene, and the 

soft breath of the morning breeze swept 
gently through the groves of palm trees 
which waved in the valley. Jast beneath, 
at the mountain's base, was the smiling little 
hamlet' of Bethany, the quiet abode of the 
lovely sisters and their brother, with its 
groups of neat cottag(.'S, and modest pastoral 
mansions half obscured in the vast shadows 
which yet enveloped them. Beyond, arose 
in sullen majesty the bleak and frowning 
mountains which overlooked the ancient 
city of the Cana.anites, and immediately be- 
tween was Jerusalem itself — with its hiUs, 
and winding walls, and wild ra>'ine8 — ^loom- 
ing in the mellow hght, with those stu- 
pendous architectural monuments which 
had endured since the age of Solomon, 
and which, long centuries anterior, had 
fallen under the eye of the Macedonian con- 
queror. Rising proudly above the rest was 
the famous mount of Zion, the ancient Acro- 
polis of King David, crowned with the splen- 
did pidace which had once sheltered the royal 
lover and his frail Batltsheba; whose spacious 
harems swanned afterwards with the thou- 
sand volu])tuous houris of their amorous 
son, and which, even in ruin, seemed to 
assert its former grandeur. Opposite, was 
the crescent-sliaped mount of Acra, roman- 
tically studded with lesser eminences ; and 
from whence towered the grand and goi^ 
ous structure first consecrated to the worship 
of IsraePs God, the gigantic dimensions of 
which yet startle and bewilder mankind. 
We may easily imagine that, as the sun's 
brilliant rays irrtidiated the glittering front, 
it appeared to the group on Mount Olivet 
as avast mountainofdazzlingly white marble, 
presenting a magnificent array of domes, 
and pillai*s, and turrets, all fretted with gold- 
en pinnacles, which, touched with the re- 
splendence of the early morn, shone with 
surpassing grandeur. Intervening was the 
broad valley of the Cheesemongers, so famed 
in Bible story, and from the dark bosom of 
which bubbled the sparkhng pool of Siloam; 
while on the north, from amidst cliflfe and 
crags covered scantily with dwarfed shrub- 
bery, was Calvary — destined, a few months 
afterward, to tremble beneath the wonders 
and the horrors of the crucifixion. Beneath 
were seen the rock-clad streets which had 
been so often threaded by the hostile bands 
of Gentile conquerors, and so often drenched 
with the blood of i)rostratc Israel. Before that 
temple had Alexander paused to revereiibOd 


Puny Poets cmd Piratical Publishers, 


the EGgh Priest There the Syrian chief- 
tain, surrounded by his fierce soldiery, had 
designed to honor the Jehovah of his fallen 
foe ; and there, too, had Pompey the Great, 
fresh from the gory field, bent his haughty 
spirit before the hallowed associations belong- 
ing to the spot. 

Such are the imperfectly-told and mere 
skeleton outlines of a theme which might 
have challenged the minstrelsy of a Homer, 
but which Mr. Willis, with singular apathy 
and negligence, has been content to cramp 
up within the space of some half dozen 
lines, in despite Of its crowds of suggestive 
associations so legitimately appropriate to his 

The limits of a critique will not allow us 
thus to loiter; we must pass on, therefore, 
to the " Baptism of Christ" Our attention 
is first arrested by these Hues : 

« Softly in 
ThroDgh a long aisle of willows, dim and cooL 
Stole die clear waters with their muffled femt 

Wo do not know, in the first place, what 
business the preposition in has where we 
find it, unless Mr. Willis designed, at the 
insk of grammar, to lengthen his line to the 
j)roper measure ; but we are utterly con- 
founded when our author comes to speak of 
the '''•muffled feeV* of "clear waters." We 
are familiar with the expression " foot of the 
mountain," or "foot of the hill," but we 
have jumped up for the first time that of 
the fee\ of waters — muffled at that. We 
are to suppose, however, that as we become 
acquainted with Willisiana perfumes, we 
are in like manjior to leani Willisiana ficr- 
ures of speech, having already shaken hands 
with the " fingers of the dawn," and stum- 
bled against the "muffled feet" of water. 

A few lines after these w^e find that Mr. 
Willis, with the unrestrained privileges of a 
poet, ventures unhesitatingly and quite com- 
placently to settle a Scriptural quarrel which 
has consumed hundreds of disputatious folios, 
and has puzzled learned theologians ever 
since the apostolic era ; for, alluding to John 
the Baptist, we meet with the lines describ- 
ing him, as 

** He stood breattt-hfgh amid the running atredmj 
Baptizing as the Spirit gave him power." 

It is by no means conceded by Christians 
that John actually went into the " running 
stream ;" and although Mr. Willis's version 

may be sanctioned by the sectaries of the 
old Baptist denominrttion and tlie reophytes 
of the Campbellian school of divinity, we 
yet think that tlie same would be denounced 
as heretical and unorthodox by the doctors 
of Geneva, of Oxford, and of the Sorbonne ; 
while even Rome might fulminate her Papal 
bulls against the rash assxunption. 

We take the following from the poem of 
Hagar in the Wilderness : 

" It was an hour of rest ; but Hagar found 
No shelter in the wilderness, and on 
She kept her weary way, until the boy 
Hung down his head, and open'd his parch'd lips 
For water; but she could not give it nim. 
She laid him down beneath the sultry sky — 
For it was better than the close, hot breath 
Of the thick pines — and tried to comfort him ; 
But he was sore athirst, and his blue eyes 
Were dim and bloodshot, and he could not know 
"Why God denied him water in the wild. 
She sat a little longer, and he grew 
Ghastly and faint, as if he would have died. 
It was too much for her. She lifted him 
And bore him further on, and laid his head 
Beneath the shadow of a desert shrub ; 
And shrouding up her face, she went away. 
And sat to watch, where he could see her not, 
Till he should die." 

Taken as a whole, we must pronounce 
this extract to be very awkward, very inex- 
pressive, unideal, and commonplace. Be- 
sides the sluggish comi)osition, there is ex- 
hibited a most woful deficiency in creative- 
nce^s of imagination and artistic ingenuity. 
If we analyze minutely, it is to be feared 
that numerous minor blemishes may be 
shown. In the short space of eighteen hues 
the words he and she are made to occur 
eleven times ; as if the author's ideas could 
not be cut loose from his characters. Dur- 
ing the same time llagar rose up and sat 
down again tAvice. She lifts Ishmael up 
and lays him down twice. The last time 
she leaves him to repose in a rather intangi- 
ble and undcfinablc place, for Mr. Willis 
tells us she "laid his head beneath the shad- 
ow of a desert shrubs We should suppose 
that a desert or leafless shrub would attbrd 
but scanty shade, where even " thick pines " 
had been found too " close and hot." 

" Fair were his locks. His enowy teeth divided 
A bow of Love, drawn with a scarlet thread." 

These lines are found while describing one 
of the sons of Rizpah ; but the reader is 
wiser than we claim to be, if he can unravel 
the meaning. How " snowy teeth " can di- 


Puny Poets and Piratical Publishers. 


vide a "bow of Love" we are wholly unable 
to di\ine ; nor can we tell what earthly 
connection a "scarlet thread" can have with 
the figure. 

The same poem furnishes another specimen 
of labyrinthal composition : 

" He who wept with Mary — angels keeping 
Their unthank'd watch, are a foreshadowing 
Of what love is in heavea" 

It would require, we think, a ball of our 
author's "scarlet thread" to wind through 
this foggy compHcity of words at all under- 

We next got something of an ethereal 
adventure : 

" O conscious heart I 
♦ **♦*«« 

Number thy lamps of love, and tell me, now, 
How manij canst thou re-light at the stars. 
And blush not at their burning?" 

This is decidedly of the Swedenborgian 
cast — so refined and so spirituahzed as to 
bully conjoctm-e and frighten fancy. We 
would be ])leased, moreover, if Mr. WiUis 
will explain the aptness of the allusion, 
when, speaking of the heartj he asks if it 
will blush ^ 

We decline, for the present, to notice 
" Lazarus and Mary," and must here close 
with our excerpts from the " Sacred Poems." 
We trust that the admirers of Mr. WiUis 
may pardon to candor much that has seemed 
bitter and harsh in the foregoing review. 
We have been led to undertake the task 
less from any exalted opinion of our author's 
merits as a poet, than with a view to set 
before the reader, fairly and undisguisedly, 
the nature and quality of that poetry which, 
in certain circles, has Bfted Mr. Willis to that 
pedestal of favor which he so modestly ac- 
knowledges in his preface. It has been 
perceived, doubtless, that we do not concede 
that unhesitating and redoubtable supremacy 
to which our author has so flippantly laid 
claim. On the contrary, we must frankly 
declare that we consider Mr. Willis a very 
ordinary and indifferent writer of poetry, 
and can only wonder how he became so 
grossly j)ossessed as to suppose that he could 
conjure with a true wizard's rod, or sweep 
the harp with a minstrel's grace and skill. 
But his poetry, such even as it is, has been 
too much the theme of undisputed laudation, 

heretofore, to make it altogether a oondesoen- 
sion to scrutinize and test its merits. The 
admirers of Mr. Willis cannot expect to so 
venalize others of less susceptible and, per- 
haps, less indulgent temperaments, as to 
extort universal concessions in favor of their 
poet's claims to the laurel wreath. It has 
been, all along, their good pleasure and his 
interest to cry up and extol these feeble offer- 
ings to tlie shnne of the Muses. Nobody 
has felt any pleasure, or taken any interest^ 
in crying them down. But we think that 
this indifference has been carried quite for 
enough ; wliile leniency may become culpa- 
ble in view of Mr. Willis's vaulting ambi- 
tion and excessive vanity, as well as of the 
extravagances of his admirers ; and espe- 
cially in view of the very serious feet that 
American Hterature, and not its counterfeit 
votaries, has to pay the penalty of all this 
hapless amiability and indifference. For 
nothing is more certain than that by thus 
cBgging the avenues to eminence with 
swarms of rampant, vain-glorious, elbowing 
pretenders, the doors are effectually closed 
against such as may really deserve to enter. 
Men of real talent disdain to resort to un- 
worthy devices, or to join in unbecoming 
scuflfles. Their mushroom competitors, <mi 
the contrary, are none too proud to stoop 
to any or all species of what may now be 
termed Bamumania, to attain a sickly and 
an ephemeral notoriety, and to pici up 
those scanty "present gains" to wmch Mr. 
Willis so candidly alludes in the prefeoe to 
his book. 

But we would not be understood as mean- 
ing to class Mr. Willis with that herd of 
despicable and disgusting scribblers who, 
despite their blathering and nauseous excres- 
cences, have so subsidized penny presses as 
to crowd out, temporarily, all genuine liter- 
ary votaries, and to infect the country witk 
daily emissions of noisome nonsense, aHke 
baneful to the encouragement of merits 
and to the development of national literal]^ 
resources. On the contrary, we desire to 
say that whatever contempt we may enter- 
tain for Mr. Willis's verses, we have yet 
seen much from his pen in a more appro- 
priate and dignified department, that mdi- 
cated, to our humble and imperfect judg- 
ment, talent of a very high and enviaw 
order. But while entertaining a very hi^ 
opinion of much of his prose writingBi ne 
are yet constrained to say, liiat our anllior 


Henry C, Carey, 


would, to our judgment, have better con- 
sulted his self-respect by abstaining from all 
adventurings in the way of poetry. 

We shall now dismiss Mr. Willis and his 
poems, for the present ; promising, by-the- 
by, that we design to resume and complete 
in some future number, our contemplated 

task of examining his entire book of " sacred, 
passionate, and humorous " poems ; and that 
although we have chosen to select him, first, 
as the expiatory offering to the offended 
literary genius of America, he shall not be 
the last. 

Longwood^ 1850. 

« « « 




Henry C. Carey has been recognized 
through continental Europe as one of the 
master thinkers of our generation. It is time 
for him to be known in his own country. In 
Political Economy he has applied the methods 
of the Positive Philosophy, and his works 
exhibit the chief advances the science has 
made since Adam Smith published his 
" Wealth of Nations." They are text-books 
in the colleges even of Sweden and Norway, 
while at the University in the street next to 
that in which the author has his residence, 
books are adopted composed of ideas from 
empirical and nearly obsolete systems : Say 
and Ricardo are regarded as expositors of 
the last and ultimate discoveries. Let us 
see if this law respecting prophets cannot be 
changed ; or if not changed, confirmed, by an 
exception in the case of our philosopher. 

Mr. Carey was bom in Philadelphia, in 
December, 1*793. His father was the late 
eminent Matthew Carey, memories of whose 
virtues preserve about his name a thousand 
de%htfdl associations. Matthew Carey was 
a political economist also. He wrote much, 
and he wrote effectively, because he taught 
that which was in accordance with the 
feelings and interests of his readers ; but he 
was of the old school, dead now, with its 
professors. He disliked abstract ideas or 
principles, and did not trouble himself mucli 
with their investigation. The consequence 
was, that he made no addition to politico- 
economical knowledge, and left nothing by 
which he should be remembered except the 

fact that he was a consistent and ardent 
friend of protection. 

Ricardo left his doctrine of Rents ; Mal- 
thus his principle of Population ; their books 
are Httle read now, and they themselves 
would have been long since forgotten, but 
that they taught what had been taught by 
no others. Of the hundreds of their country- 
men, who have since written, scarcely one 
has furnished a new idea ; or if such an idea 
can be found in the books of any one, it will 
not bear investigation. Many have collected 
facts, that are useful, and all of them have 
talked and written about their facts and 
theories ; but only as empirics. One man 
contended on one side and another on another, 
and there was no standard by which to judge 
them. Ricardo and Malthus gave laws 
that would not fit the facts, and the facts 
were altered and suppressed to suit the laws.* 
McCulloch taught that transportation and 
exchange were more advantageous than pro- 
duction,! and Cobden that it was better to go 
to colonies in which rich lands were to be 
had cheap, than to stay at home where land- 
lords charged high rents for the poor ones that 
were necessarily cultivated : and therefore 

* Thus we see by a correspondence published in 
the London papers that Mr. Horace Mayhew, au- 
thor of the metropohtan " Labor and the Poor " 
articles, has ceased to write for the London Morn- 
ing Chronicle^ the conductors of that journal wish- 
ing him to suppress, in his reports on the condition 
of the working classes, facts opposed to free trade. 

f See Carey's Past, Present and Future, p. 128. 


Henry C. Carey, 


that imported food would be cheaper than 
that which was grown at home. The result 
has proved that he was wrong. Food is now 
obtained with more difficulty than before ; 
emigration is necessary, and the late decision 
in Parliament shows that Protection will be 
restored : as the ministry could command 
only the moan majority of 21. 

A few years hence McCulloch will be 
remembered only as the compiler of a few 
indiflerent books of reference, and Cobden as 
the author of much ill to the people of Eng- 
land. Many of these men have ideas that 
are sound; but they know nothing of the 
principles of the science they undertake to 
teach ; and so they are continually making 
blundei-s. Of all the French writers of the 
fii"st forty yeai-s of this century, only one, 
Jean Baptiste Say, has hved to the middle 
of it, and his work is only a mass of error 
in an imposing form. 

This may be called sweeping criticism ; 
but time will ])rove that it is just We need 
principles, as the Jistronomers did, b^ore Co- 
pernicus, Kepler and Newton gave them 
the Laws which govern the movements of 
the univei-se. Others observed facts and 
wrote treatises, but only these names have 
lived. Kicardo and Malthus furnished what 
they believed to be the great natural laws in 
regard to land and the sources of its value ; 
the relation of the laborer and the capitalist ; 
and of population. Their names are still 
familiar, but their theories ai'e shattered by 
the assaults of critics ; they will be forgot- 
ten, and their places will be occupied by 
those of the great author of whose works 
we propose to write. Ricardo and Malthus 
will be to (varey as Ptolemy to Cojiernicus. 

From 1 803, a period of almost fifty years, 
since Ricardo published his doctrine of Rent, 
there has not been even an attempt, except 
Carey's, to add anything to political econ- 
omy. Senior, Whateley, and a thousand 
others, have been disputuig about words, 
while as many others have been attacking 
Malthus and Ricardo; but no one has at- 
tempted to discover laws, to take the place 
of those which were assailed. Of. the sup- 
portxM's o^ these writers, every one has been 
Compelled to admit that their laws did not 
cover the fact«5, and to interpolate accommo- 
<L*ting passages. John Stuart Mill, in his re- 
cent work, has done this even more largely 
than Ills predecessors, and so furnished addi- 
tional proof that their laws were not laws, but 

mere anarchy. Ricardo had to leave a place of 
escape for difficult facts.* and his suooeaeors 
have since found themselves obliged to open 
so many new ones, that his laws are now 
Uke sieves. 

Tlie period was propitious for a disooverer. 
The oj>inion of D'Alembert that the steps <rf 
Cinhzation were to bo taken in the middle 
of each century, was to be confirmed by a 
new illustration. 

Mr. Carey's father was a practical man ; 
all his children were trained to affiurs ; thus 
they became observers. The students of 
books are rarely creators in science. Troth 
is most likely to be evolved in the sdiool of 
experience. From the age of seven jean 
until he was twenty-one, Mr. Caiey was in 
his father's book-store. From 1 82 1 to 1 838, 
he was a partner in the important paUish- 
ing house of Carey, Lea & Carey, and Oarey 
k Lea; but in this period he passed one 
season abroad, we beheve immediatelY after 
his marriage with a sister of Leslie, die 
painter. The determination of hia nnid 
was already fixed, when his retirement from 
business enabled him to devote his fe<«1*i'» 
entirely to the science with which hia name 
will for ever be associated. 

Mr. Carey's first book — An JSua^ on tk$ 
Eats of Wages — was published in 1886, 
and was soon after expanded into The Prm- 
ciples of Political Ecanjomy^ which iqppeared 
in throe octavo volumes in 1837 — 1840. 

Before proceeding to give an aooonnt of 
this performance we will more particalady 
show what was, at the date of its puUtcatioii, 
the condition of the science it was designed to 
illustrate. Mr. Malthus had taught that 
population tended to increase fiister than 
food, and that so irresistible was this ten- 
dency, that all huraar. efforts to restrain the 
number of men within the Hmits of aubaiflt- 
ence were vain. It was a great "law of 
nature," and it was of httie cr^^isoqueiioei 
therefore, how fast food might be i^vaneasflji 
since the only effect must be to atimnlate 
population, which, in the end, was sure to 
outrun the means of living. The imprst- 
sion which this work produced has heen 
briefly noticed in what we have written in 
connection with Mr. Alexander H. Everetfs 
reply to it, printed in London and Boston 
in 1822. The doctrine was a convenieiil 

* The Past, the Present and the Fatanii pa 
70, 71. ^ "^ 



Henry C, Carey, 


one, for it relieved the directors of affairs 
from the charge of causing, or suffering, 
the poverty and wretchedness by which 
they were surrounded. 

Soon after this, Mr. Ricardo attempted to 
explain by what means the supply of food 
was limited. He taught that men always 
conmienced the work of cultivation on the 
most fertile soils, capable of yielding, say, 
one hundred quarters for a given quantity 
of labor ; but that as population increased, 
it became necessary to resort to poorer soils, 
yielding but ninety quarters, and that then 
the owner of the first could command as 
rent ten quarters. With a further increase, 
lands of a third quahty, yielding but eighty 
quarters, were brought into use, and then the 
first and second would command as rent the 
whole difference, say, twenty quarters for 
the first, and ten quarters for the second. 
The payment of rent is thus regarded, in this 
school, as an evidence of constantly dimin- 
ishing reward of labor, resulting from the 
increase of population, in consequence of 
which it is necessary to extend the area of 
cultivation. With each step of its pro- 
gress, the owner of the land takes a larger 
proportion of this constantly decreasing pro- 
duct, leaving a smaller one to be divided 
among those who apply either labor or cap- 
ital to cultivation, thus producing a constant 
increase in the inequality of human condi- 
tion. The interests of the landlord are in 
this manner shown to be for ever opposed to 
those of all the other portions of society. 
Rent is supposed to be paid because land 
has been occui)ied in virtue of an exercise 
of power, and not because the owners have 
done anything to entitle them to it. Here 
we see the germ of that discord which ev- 
erywhere in Europe exists between the pay- 
ers and receivers of rent. The annual fund 
from which savings can be made is held to 
be continually diminishing, the poor becom- 
ing poorer as the rich grow richer. The ten- 
dency to increase is more powerful in popu- 
lation than in capital, and the natural result 
must be that "wages will be reduced so 
low that a portion of the population will 
regularly die of want."* 

The effect of the promulgation of these 
principles, upon the science of which they 

♦ Mr. Mill, quoted by Mr. Carey. 

were asserted to be the basis, was curious. 
It was clear that increase of population led 
to famine. It was equally clear that in- 
crease of wealth tended to the extension of 
cultivation over inferior soils, with constant- 
ly decreasing returns to labor. Neverthe- 
less, the political economist was everywhere 
surrounded by facts showing that the 
condition of man improved as numbers in- 
creased and as cultivation was extended. 
With lessened rewards of toil there should 
be deterioration of moral condition, and 
abridged facilities for intellectual cultivation, 
but it was incontestible that men were more 
moral and better instructed than in any pre- 
vious centuries. The increasing dispropor- 
tion between the share of the landlord and 
that of the laborer was calculated to increase 
the inequality of condition, and yet it was 
not to be doubted that the two were nearer 
together than they were in the days of 
Elizabeth or of Henry VIII. The fact and 
the theoiy were always at variance with each 
other, and hence resulted a determination 
to limit the science to the consideration of 
wealth alone, excluding all reference to so- 
cial condition. Mr. McCuUoch therefore 
defined Political Economy as the Science of 
Values, and Archbishop Whately desired 
to change the name to Catallactics, or the 
Science of Exchanges. The whole duty of 
the teacher of this new science was held to 
be that of explaining how wealth might be 
increased, allowing " neither sympathy with 
indigence nor disgust at profusion or at av- 
arice ; neither reverence for existing institu- 
tions, nor detestation of existing abuses; 
neither love of popularity, nor of paradox, 
nor of system, to deter him from stating 
what he beheved to be the facts, or from 
drawing from those facts what appeared to 
him to be the legitimate conclusions."* 

Such was the Political Economy then, nnd 
such is that which is now, taught in the 
schools of England. The consequences are 
seen in the manner in which the poor peo- 
ple of every part of the United Kingdom 
are being expelled from the little holdings 
to which they have been reduced by a sys- 
tem of unbounded public expenditure, and 
the contemptuous tone in which the com- 
mon people are spoken of in all their jour- 

* Mr. Senior, quoted by Mr. Carey, 


Henry C. Carey, 


Dais. Charity is denounced as tending to 
promote the growth of population. Mar- 
riage among the poor is regarded as a 
crime, and farmers are regarded as partici- 
pant in crime for giving employment to 
men with femilies in preference to single 
men. But the system itself was an enor- 
mous wrong against nature. Mr. Carey 
entered the lists against it, with the earnest- 
ness and confidence inspired by a conviction 
that he contended for humanity. 

His book commences with a single ele- 
mentary proposition, that man desires to 
maintain and improve his condition, wheth- 
er physical, moral, intellectual, or poUtical : 
and the object of it is to show, that the the- 
ories of Mr. Malthus and Mr. Ricardo are in 
direct opposition to the universal fact^ and 
therefore cannot be regarded as natural 
laws. On the contrary, he shows that food 
has always grown faster than population, 
and that the power to obtain subsistence 
has always increased most rapidly in those 
countries, and at those times, in which pop- 
ulation has most rapidly increased, and in 
which cultivation has most rapidly extended 
over those soils denominated by Mr. Ricardo 
inferior. The error of all these writers is 
shown to be in taking qitantities instead of 
proportions, and it is the law of proportions 
that constitutes the novel feature of tins work. 
Ricardo and Malthus assert that land, labor, 
and capital are the agents of production, 
and are subject to different laws, all tending 
to produce contrariety of interests, and that 
the reason why such is the case is that land 
owes its value — or power to command rent 
for its use — to monopoly, while capital is 
the accumulated product of labor. Mr. 
Carey, on the contrary, shows by a vast va- 
riety of facts, that land owes its value to 
labor alone, and that its selling price is in- 
variably less than would purchase the quan- 
tity of labor required to induce its present 
condition were it restored to a state of na- 
ture. It is therefore, hke steam engines, 
mills, or ships, to be considered as capital, 
the interest upon which is called rent, and 
it is subject to the same laws as capital in any 
Qther form. With the growth of wealth 
and population, the landlord is shown 
fr^ hfii receiving a constantly decreasing 
' of the product of labor applied 
on, but a constantly increasing 
dcause of the rapid increase in 

the amount of the return as cultivation i» 
improved and extended.* So it is with the 

* The foUowiDff table of the distribotioD at va- 
rious periods in me progress of population and 
wealth, will enable the reader more readily to ap- 
prehend this : 


Qitantity » 

Proportion ^ Quantity to 
dgfitoHiU. Capitaluu. 

First.... 100,000 X 50,000 50,000 

Second.. 300,000 % 190,000, .... 180,000 

Thinl.... 000,000 K S00,000 400,000 

Fifth... 1,000,000 X 250,000 750,000 

By the following passages, which we take from 
M. Bastiat's new work, Harmonies Economiques, it 
will be seen that he adopts these views as the ba- 
sis of his political economy : ** A mesure que les 
capitaux 8 cuseroissenty la part absolue des eapita- 
liaies dans lesproduits totauz augmente et leurpart 
relative diminve. Au eantrairef les travaiUeurs 
voient augmenter leur part dans les deux sens.** 

(P. 280.) ** Ainsi le partage se fera de la 

mani^re suivante : — 

Produii total. 

Prexni^re periode, 1000 
Deuxieme periode, 2000 
Troiflicme periode, 3000 
Quatri^me periode, 4000 

Part du e^HtoL 



Part du travail. 





" Telle est la grande, admirable, consolante, n^- 
cessaire, et inflexible loi du capital" (P. 281.) 

** Ainsi la grande loi du capital et du travail, en 
ce qui concerne le partage du produit de la col- 
laboration, est determin^a Chacun d'euz a une 
part absolue de plus en plus grand, mais la part 
proportionnelle du capital dimmue sans cesse com- 
p&rativement k celle du travail" (P. 284.) 

Cause of value inland. — ^** CJette valeur, comme 
tous les autres, est de creation humaine et social." 
(P. 862.) After reciting the various modes of ap- 
plying labor to the improvement of land, he says : 
*' La valeur c*est incorpor^, confondue dans le sol, 
et c*est pourquoi on pourra tr^s bien dire par m6- 
tonymie : le sol vaut. {V. 368.) 

Land not changeable for as much money as it has 
cost. — " J'ose affirmer qu'il n'est pas un champ en 
France qui vaille ce qu'il a cout6, qui puisse s*6- 
changer contre autant de travail qu'il en a exig6 
pour ^tre mis k T^tat de productivity od il se 
trouve." (P. 898.) 

Cause of this. — "Vous avez employee mille 
joum^es k mettre votre domaine dans 1 ^tat od il 
est; je ne vous en restituerai que huit cents, et ma 
raison est qu'avec huit cents joum^es je puis hire 
aujourdliui sur la terre k cote ce qu'avec mille 
vous avez fait autrefois sur la votre. Veuilles 
considerer que depuis quinze ans Fart de dess^cher, 
de d^tridier, de batir, de creuser des puits, de dis- 
poser les stables, d'executer les transports a fait des 
progr^s. Chaque resultat donn^ exige moins du 
travail, et je ne veux me soumettre a vous donner 
dix de ce que je puis avoir pour huit, d'autant que 
le prix du d14 a oimiuue dans la proportion de ce 
progr^s, qui ne profite ni k vous ni k moi, mais 4 
f humanit6 toute entidre." (P. 868.) 

The reader who may desire to see the perfect 


Henry C. Carey. 


capitalist The raU of interest falls as cul- 
tivation is improved and capital is accumu- 
lated with greater facility, and the capi- 
talist receives a smaller proportion ; but 
the quantity of commodities obtainable in 
return for the use of a given amount of 
capital increases, and with every change in 
that direction there is shown to be an in- 
creasing tendency to equality and to im- 
provement of condition, physical, moral, 
intellectual, and political. 

According to me system of Mr. Ricardo, 
the interests of the land owner and laborer, 
the capitalist and the employer of capital, 
are always opposed to each other. Mr. Ca- 
rey, on the contrary, proves, and we think 
most conclusively, that " the interests of the 
capitalist and of the employer of capital ai*e 
thus in perfect harmony with each other, as 
each derives advantage from every measure 
that tends to faciUtate the growth of capi- 
tal and to render labor productive ; while 
every measure that tends to produce the 
opposite eflfect is injurious to both."* 

The entire novelty of these views rendered 
it necessary that they should be supported by 
a great body of facts, and Mr. Carey there- 
fore furnished an examination of the causes 
which have in varioas countries, particularly 
India, France, Great Britain, and the United 
States, retarded the growth of wealth — 
demonstrating that they were to be found in 
the great public expenditure for the support 
of fleets and armies, and the prosecution 
of wars, the natural results of a state of 
tilings in which the few govern the many, 
taxing them at their will; and that the 

correspondence of these views with those pub- 
lished by Mr. Carey, as far back as 1837, may do 
80 by a glance at Chapters II., TIL, IV., and VII. 
of his first volume, where he gives a great number 
of facts in support of ideas tlicn so new, and of 
course ao heretical. 

A remarkable fact, to which we now desire to 
call the attention of our readers, is, that M. 
Bastiat has thus adopted the views of Mr. Ca- 
rey, without, so far as we have been able to see, 
alteration or addition. His name never occurs in 
the work, except as authority fjr one of his quo- 
tations, which M. Bastiat has copied, while the 
names of Ricardo, Malthus, Senior, Scrope, Con- 
Biderant, and a host of others are found in almost 
every chapter. It must be highly gratifying to 
Mr. Carey to see his views obtain so entirely the 
approbation of a man of the reputation of M. 
Bastiat, that he should be willing to give them to 
the world as his own. 

♦ Vol. L, p. 839. 

remedy was to be found in that improvement 
of political condition which should enable 
men to govern and to tax themselves, doing 
which they would be disposed to remain at 

That man may be enabled to improve his 
physical -condition, combination of effort is 
shown to be necessary, and that tends to in- 
crease with increase in the density of popu- 
lation. Therewith comes increased security 
of person and property, and increasfed . re- 
spect for the rights of others, tending to 
promote the further increase of wealth, and 
to enable men to devote more time tp the . 
cultivation of thind. Improved mental con- 
dition enables men to apply their labors 
more productively, and thus obtain better 
subsistence from a diminished surface, facil- 
itates combination of action, and increases 
the growth of wealth. With its growth 
the proportion of the laborer increases, and 
that of the landlord or other capitalist de- 
creases, and the power of the former to 
govern himself, and to tax himself, grows 
steadily with the growth of wealth and pop- 
ulation ; and thus we have physical, moral, 
intellectual and political improvement, each 
aiding and aided by the other. 

It will be seen from this brief summary 
that the field occupied is a most extensive 
one, more so than that of any similar work 
that has been written. The views are pre- 
sented with great distinctness and force, and 
illustrated throughout by numerous facts 
drawn not only from the four countries prin- 
cipally referred to, but from Itiily, the Neth- 
erlands, Norway, Sweden, Switzerland, <fec 
It is one of the chief distinguishing merits 
of the work that each part of it, while com- 
plete in itself, has that relation to the other 
which belongs to the divisions of a whole, 
in which all things are so interblended and 
harmonious as to produce a cumulative and 
finally peifect effect; while in the various 
systems presented to us by Europe, every 
part is in conflict with every other. 

In denying Mr. Ricardo's theory of the 
occupation of the Earthy Mr. Carey did not 
undertake to prasent any by himself, but 
this he has done in his more recent perform- 
ance. The Past, the Pre^sent and the Fu- 
ture, published in Philadelphia in 1848. In 
this original and masterly composition he 
has shown that the law is in direct opposi- 
tion to the principle announced by Mr. Ri- 
cardo and since adopted in tlie Enghsh school^ 


Hmry 0. Cair&ff. 


and to some extent in France and m this 
country. In the infancy of civilization man 
is poor and works with poor machinery, and 
must take the high and poor soils requiring 
little clearing and no drainage; and it is 
only as population and wealth increase, that 
the richer soils are brought into cultivation. 
The consequence is, that in obedience to a 
great law of nature, food tends to increase 
more rapidly than population^ and it is only 
by that combination of effort which results 
from increasing density of population that 
the richer soils can bo brought into activity. 
The truth of this is shown by a careful and 
particular account of the settlement of this 
country, followed by a rapid sketch of the 
occupation of Mexico, the West Indies, South 
America, Great Britain, France, Italy, Greece, 
India, and the Islands of the Pacific, illus- 
trating and confirming the position that the 
poor lands at the heads of streams, or the 
small and rocky islands,are first chosen for cul- 
tivation, while the lower and richer soils are 
left unimproved for want of the means which 
come with growing wealth and population. 
Mr. Ricardo's theory is then examined in all 
its paifc^, and shown to be entirely opposed 
to the whole mass of facts presented in a 
rapid review of the course of events in the 
different portions of the world, while the 
exceptions made by him for the purpose of 
providing for the infinite number that could 
not be brought under his general .law, are 
shown to be themselves the law ; and that 
such is the case is now admitted by some of 
the most eminent economists of Europe. 

With the downfall of Mr. Ricardo's hy- 
pothesis of the occupation of land disap- 
pears the base on which rests the celebrated 
theory of Mr. Mai thus — a theory which has 
been largely discussed in this country by 
Mr. Everett and others, and which is exam- 
ined at length from his point of view by Mr. 
Car<jy, who shows that everywhere increase 
of population has led to the cultivation of 
the lower and richer soils, followed by in- 
crease in the facility of obtaining food, while 
depopulation has everywhere been marked 
by the retreat of cultivation to the hills ; a 
truth which he illustrates by numerous in- 

Ho next surveys the circimistances at- 
tending the progress of wealth. It is held 
by the ErgHsh economists that capital, ap- 
pHed to land, must necessarily bring dimin- 
ishing pre fits, l)ecause appUcd to a machine 

of ooDstantly decreasing powen ; and thaty 
therefore, manufiEictures and trade, steam- 
engines and ships, are more profitable than 
agriculture ; whereas, Mr. Carey shows that 
land is a machine of constantly inereasinp 
ca|)acities, and that the only manner in whi<^ 
machinery of any description is beneficial, is 
. by diminishing the labor required for con* 
verting and transporting the products of the 
earth, and permitting a larger quantity to 
be given to the work of production. The 
earth is the sole producer, says Mr. Carey, 
and man merely fie^hions and exchanges her 
products, adding nothing to the quantity to 
be converted or exchanged, and the growth 
of wealth everywhere is shown to be in the 
ratio of the quantity of labor that can be 
given to the cultivation of the great madbine 
bestowed on man for the producti(»i ot food 
and wool. This leads to an examination <£ 
the British system, the object of which ia 
shown to have been that of compelling the 
people of every part of the world to bring 
to her their raw products to be converted 
and exchanged, thus wasting on the road a 
large portion of them, and aU the manure 
that would result from their home consump- 
tion, the consequence of which is shown to 
be the exhaustion of the land and its owner. 
The broad ground is then taken that the 
products of the land should be consumed 
upon the land, and that nations grow rich 
or remain poor precisely as they act in ao* 
cordance with, or in opposition to, that yiew. 
Mr. Carey is a free-trader. In his first book 
he advocated the British doctrine of dimin* 
ished duties, as the means of bringing about 
free trade.' In his Past and Present he ad- 
mits his error, and shows that the protective 
system was the result of an instinctive e&tt 
at the correction of a great evil inflicted upon 
the world by British legislation, and tnat 
the only course towards perfect freedom ef 
trade is to be found in perfect prodtieOan, 

The effect of increasing wealth and pop- 
ulation resulting from the power to culti?]^ 
the richer soils, in bringing about the divi- 
sion of land and the union of man is then 
shown, and illustrated by examples drawn 
from the history of the principal nations of 
the world, ancient and modem; and here 
the European system of primogenituie k ex- 
amined, with a view to show that it is purely 
artificial, and tends to disappear with the 
growth of wealth and population. Tliii 
leads to the discussion of the relationa of 


Henry C, Carey, 


man to bis fellow-men, which are shown to 
tend to the establishment of equaUty wher- 
ever peace is maintained, and wealth and 
population are allowed to grow ; and to ine- 
ouaUty, with every step in the progress of 
war and devastation. 

Man himself next appears on the scene. 
Mr. Malthtis, Mr. Ricardo, and all others of 
the English school, represent him as the 
slave ot his necessities, working because he 
fears starvation. Mr. Carey, on the contrary, 
shows him to be animated by hope, and 
improving in all his moral qualities, precisely 
as by the growth of wealth and population — 
the results of peace — he is enabled to clear 
and cultivate the ^ich soils of the earth. 

Thence we pass to the relations of man 
and his helpmate, which are shown to im- 
prove precisely as do those of man to his 
fellow-man, as the rich soils are brought 
into cultivation. Man and his family follow, 
and the same improvement, under the same 
circumstances, is shown to take place in the 
relations of parent and child. 

Concentration, or the habit of local self- 
government, so strikingly illustrated in New- 
England, is next examined in contrast with 
centralization, as exhibited in England and 
France, and its admirable effects in tending 
to the maintenance of peace are fully ex- 
hibited. The various systems of coloniza- 
tion next pass in review, and give occasion 
for an examination of the various causes 
that brought negro slavery into this country, 
and the reasons why it is here alone that 
the race has increased in numbers. India 
and Ireland, and the devastating effects of the 
colonial system, Annexation, and Civiliza- 
tion furnish the materials for the suc^eedinn^ 
chapters, and give occasion — the last par- 
ticularly — for the expression of opinions 
much at variance with those taught by 
Guizot and others of the most distinguished 
men of our day. Such are the Past and 
Present The closing chapter Is the Future, 
and contains an examination of many re- 
markable facts now presented to our view 
by our own country, produced by the exist- 
ence of the unnatural system fastened uj^on 
the world by England, and to be remedied 
by the adoption of an American policy, 
having for its object that of enabling men 
to live togther and combine their exertions, 
instead of flying from each other, leaving 
behind rich lands uncultivated, and going 
to Texas or Oregon to begin the work of 

cultivation on the poorer ones. " With each 
step in the progress of concentration, his 
physical condition would improve because 
he would cultivate more fertile lands, and 
obtain increased power over the treasures of 
the earth. His moral condition would im- 
prove, because he would have greater in- 
ducements to steady and regular labor, and 
the reward of good conduct would steadily 
increase. His intellectual condition would 
improve, because he would have more leisure 
for study, and more power to mix with his 
fellow-men at home or abi-oad ; to learn what 
they knew, and to see what they possessed ; 
while the reward of talent would steadily 
increase, and that of mere brute wealth 
would steadily decline. His political condi- 
tion would improve, because he would ac- 
quire an increased power over the applica- 
tion of his labor and of its proceeds. He 
would be less governed, better governed, 
and more cheaply governed, and all because 
more perfectly self-governed." 

The field surveyed by Mr. Carey in the 
Past and Present is a broad one — broader 
than that of any other book of our time — 
for it discasses every interest of man. The 
ideas are original — whether true or not, they 
ai-e both new and bold. They are based 
upon a great law of Nature, and it is the 
tii-st time that any system of political econo- 
my has been offered to the world that was 
so based. The consequence is, that all the 
facts place themselves, as completely as did 
the ])lanets when Copernicus had satisfied 
himself that the earth revolved around the 

More recently, in his Harmony of Inter- 
ests, Mr. Carey has published a full exami- 
nation of the great question of commercial 
policy, with a view to show that protection, 
as it exists in this country, is the true and 
only road to free trade. He has brought 
to the illustration of this important doctrine 
a mass of facts, greater, probably, than was 
ever before displayed in support of any po- 
sition in political economy. It commences 
wiUi an examination of our whole commer- 
cial policy for the last thirty years, and 
shows the effect of protection in increasing 
the sum of production and consumption, the 
means of transportation, internal and exter- 

* Tliia work ha« been much read abroad, and 
we perceive that it has recently been translated 
into Swedish, and published at Stockholm. 


Henryi C. Carey. 


nlil, and the influx of p(^iilation from abroad, 
always an evidence of tiie increased produc- 
tiveness of labor. In this work it is shown 
conclusively, that shipping grows with pro- 
tection, because protection tends to promote 
immigration, or the import of men, the most 
valuable of commodities, and thus to di- 
minish the cost of sending to market the 
less valuable ones, grain, tobacco, and cotton. 
The question is examined in every point of 
view — material, moral, intellectual, and po- 
litical ; and the result arrived at is, '^ that be- 
tween the interests of the treasiuy and the 
people, the farmer, planter, manufacturer, and 
merchant, the great and little trader and the 
ship-owner, the slave and his master, the 
land-owners and laborers of the Union and 
the world, the free-trader and the advocate 
of protection, there is perfect harmony of 
interests, and that the way to the estaWish- 
ment of imiversal peace and universal free 
trade, is to be found in the adoption of 
measures tending to the destruction of the 
monopoly of machinery^ and the location of 
the loom and the anvil in the vicinity of 
the plough and the harrow." 

In adStion to the works I have named, 
Mr. Carey has published two others, on the 
Currency — the larger of which is entitled 
Credit System in France, England, and the 
United States, Their object is to show, 
that there is a very simple law which Ues at 
the root of the whole currency question, and 
that by its aid, the revulsions so frequently 
experienced may be perfectly accounted for. 
That law is perfect freedom of trade in 
money, whether by individuals or associa- 

tions, leaving the latter to make their own 
terms with their customers, and to assume 
limited or unlimited habiht^r, as they them- 
selves may think most expedient. In a de- 
tailed review of the operations of several of 
the principal nations, and of all the Stated 
of this Union, it is shown that the tendency 
to steadiness in the quantity, and uniformity 
in the quahty, of currency, is in the exact 
ratio of freedom, while with every increase 
in the number or extent of restrictions^ 
steadiness diminishes, and insecurity increas- 
es. The views contained in this work are 
now adopted by some of the most eminent 
writei-s in France. They constitute the basia 
of a recent and excellent wol-k* by M. Coque- 
hn, who quotes largely from tiiat of Mr. 
Carey, declaring that our countryman has^ 
" in the investigation of causes and effects^ 
succeeded better than the English inquir- 
ers," and had, as early as 1838^ "clearly 
shown the primary causes of the perturba- 
tions recurring almost periodically in com- 
merce and currency ."f 

The portrait of Mr. Carey, accompanying 
this article, is from a crayon sketch by Mr. 
Collyer, and is, in every respect, one of the 
best likenesses we have presented in tlm 
Magazine. It is excellently copied by Mr. 

^Du Credit et det Bemques, Paris, 1848. 
f Uo dea plus beaux ouvrage? assur^mcnt qu'on 
ait publies Bur le credit.— cAntmo/ dc% Ew9A- 

1851. Miscellany. Bi 


OoR Steam Navy. — ^The following im- no inducement for the Government officer to go out 

portant communication was handed to us of the beaten track as long as his pay is continued 

by a gentleman whose long experience as to him monthly. He goes joggmg on m the old 

a commander in the naval service of Great ^^yle; but place the same man m the position^ 

V» , . J - V r« 4. T J* n A either to mi prove his work and system or lose his 

Bntam and of the East India Company. ^.^ t|^„^ ^nd you will find the old adage veri- 

entitles his views to the highest respect. fied_« Necessity is the mother of invention.'' He 

The opinions he expresses we are obliged, ^ju ^um his attention forthwith to the most likely 

not only for consistency, but from a set- course to keep his time and capital continually on the 

tied conviction of their truths to sustain stretch, so as to produce him the greatest amount 

in full. For tlie same reason that we gave of return. This* he is obliged to study, as there 

our support to Mr. Whitney's plan of a are others who will outstrip him in the race if he 

Pacific Railroad, we give it to the plan of docs not exert Us utmost care and attention ; and 

our correspondent. In a succeeding number it is thus that the greatest proficiency is to be at- 

we hope to lay before our readers a com- ^^^' „ ^ , n j j x j 

. \.. r'^ .1 ■ „« '^^^^j The Renort above alluded to recommends, 

mumcation from the same expenenced « ^^^^^t^^", P^^Hc yards be supplied with the 

source, on the naval resources of the United ^^^ apparatus for the construction of steam- 

States as regards steam-ships. It is a very .^^^ j^ ^^^^ purposes." Let us consider this 

common error to suppose that the steam- reS)mmendation. In the first place, the expense 

vessels built at private yards in New- York ^j^ y^^ enormous. I do not know the cost of the 

can be immediately converted into vessels Washington yard, but it must have been very great, 

of war, like the steam-ships of the Cunard as all enterprises managed directly by the agents 

line. We are prepared to show that this of Government have ever been, and will be, until 

is a grave delusion, which may lead upon oc- the end of time. An outlay Uke it, being added 

casion to fatal consequences. to each naval yard, will greatly increase the bur- 
den on the treasury, and to what end ? We have 
in commission " seven steam-ships ; repairing and 

To the Editor of the American Whig Review: equipping, five ; on the stocks and constructing, 

^ ^ one." {New-York Herald, 2lih Bee, IS60.) For 

Sir :— In perusing the Rfiport from the Bureau this existing force the Washington yard must be 

of Construction, Equipment, Ac, contained in the sufficient The number of vessels is at present 

New York Herald of the 2l8t instant, I was much small, but the necessary increase in this depart- 

surprised to find that the knowledge so dearly ment of the national strength will soon be such as 

bought by experience here and elsewhere has had to put it in a position to vie with all other powers, 

no effect upon the authorities in this department Since the actual necessity of looking to this branch 

It is a well-determined fact, from the experience of the service has been impressed on the Govem- 

of the past, that all Government work is worse ment, rapid progress has oeen made in the right 

<hme, and more expensive, than that which is open direction ; and ere long the steam navy of the 

to the competition of the whole country. United States must become sufficient for the de- 

The specimens of naval architecture turned fence of our immense coast hne, and to punish ag- 

out of the Government yards will not compare gression abroad, should necessity arise for such a 

with some turned out of private yards, either for course. Our private foundries are sufficient for the 

speed or economy. The late attempts of Govern- manufacture of machines for almost any number of 

ment men in England, where they have had every steam-ships that may be required, without estab- 

opportunity and inducement to remove the " pres- lishing an expensive Government monopoly. If 

tige" against them, has proved the inefficiency of they are not, thciv will easily and rapidly increase 

the system. Some of the most abortive attempts when the necessity for them arises, for depend on 

have been made at a vast cost of treasure, proau- it, our enterprising citizens will not allow any 

cing the most useless craft that can be found afloat, such opportunity to escape their vigilance, an(i 

while some of the most efficient and beautiful we have seen during the present year a most ex- 

vessels for war purposes that have ever been traordinary increase in the production of steam-- 

launched were constructed in private yards. engines from our foundries— an increase, indeed;. 

There is no inducement from increased emolu- scarcely credible. At the present time there is to- 

ments or business, arising from superior attainments be seen on the banks, and at the wharves of the East 

in work or model ; no rivalry or cause for emulation. River, a sight such as no other port in the world, 

**The models already made have satified the Gov- can offer, and which gives an astounding idea of 

enmient;whytheDBhouldwe alter them?" There is the enterprise and power of the United St'ft.Vjar 




Ton may there see t<^ethcr thirteen ocean 
steamers, (all new,) of large size, advancing rap- 
idly to completion. These are — 


The Humboldt, Havre packet, about - 2700 
North America, for Chagres, - - - 1800 

Winfield Scott, 1400 

Brother Jonathan, for Pacific, - - - 1400 

Mexico, Gulf of Mexico, 1200 

Alabama, Savannah line, - - - . 1200 

Independence, 800 

Gk>lden Gate, Pacific Co. 

Gol<len Age, Pacific Co. 

La Fayette, Havre line, 

Pioneer, Havre line, 

Large Propeller, for Philadelphia and Liverpool. 

A Steamer, for Charleston line. 

Besides these, there have already been com- 
pleted and gone to sea — 

The Atlantic, The Franklin, 

Pacific, Florida, 

Baltic, Columbia, 

Arctic, Prometheus, 

New World, Sea Bird, 

New- York, Pacific, 
The Louisiana.* 

It is reasonable to think that the present excess 
of demand for steam commimication cannot last 
long; like all other rages, it will have its day, and 
will be followed by a stagnation in that particular 
branch of manufacture. What then will become 
of our machinists ? When the fever abates there 
will be a state of inanition ; and then would 
be the time for the application of the remedy, in 
employing the machine shops for the work of the 
Federal Government, and for the good of the large 
masses of citizens who will otherwise be thrown 
out of work just at the time they have attained 
the greatest experience and skill Such a body 
of men as now exists, (gathered from among the 
skilful of all nations,) being once scattered and 
otherwise occupied, it will be a difficult matter to 
collect again ; and even should it he possible, they 
will have lost that efficiency which arises from 
constant practice, and which that alone can give. 

It is true, a portion of them would find work in 
the Government yards ; but why should the State 
be put to the expense of the yards, when the 
private ones are all ready for the work required ? 

The yard at Washington being already in ex- 
istence, if it is efficient as it should be, it must be 
4Moal to the present wants of the Government 
Toe repairs of existing steam-vessels would be 
the principal work allotted to it, and it will soon 
find quite sufficient occupation for a small estab- 
lishment in that line. 

One principal reason why private enterprise is 
more desirable than a Government establishment, 
is the constant call upon it for various styles and 
deticriptions of machines for numerous purposes, 
in the construction of which many great improve- 
ments are suggested, perfected, and made avail- 

• Ai [ give t lese V<*ta from memory only, thopj may 
•be two or three li'ft out T ieso are :uU'-'peQdL*nt of a ly on 
■iUe Mortb Kiver. 

able for marine purposes ; the development of 
which would be exceedingly improbable while 
pursuing the one object of marine engines only. 

The reason alleged for the recommendaticMi of 
the Bureau is, the great delay that has arisen in 
the manufacture of engines in the several foun- 
dries. To whom is the blame of this delay to be 
attached f To the parties who entertain the con- 
tract, for if they do their duty strictly and 
impartially, there can be no delay witliout its 
appropriate pt^nalty ; and if the penalty be duly 
enforced, there mil be no delay. If the penalty 
be merely a matter of form, why put it in at all ? 
If it is not to be enforced leave it out altogether, 
and leave the parties to take their own time to 
complete their work; it will be no worse than 

I trust that having shown that the machine 
shops of New- York alone are sufficient for the pur- 
poses of supplying steam-engines, independently 
of foundries and manufactories in other States, of 
which there are a great many, it will lead to a 
full and perfect examination of the policy and 
necessity of such a system as that of making a 
great Government monopoly at so great an ouUay 
as it will require of the public funds. 

Let our machinists in private foundries benefit 
legitimately by the wants of tlie Government, and 
at the same time let the Government reap the 
advantage and benefit accruing from the united 
skill and experience of our land and marine engine 
mechanics. F. P. Wkbb. 

New- York, Dec. 2Stk, 1850. 

"The Pilgrim Fathers." — Perhaps there is not 
in American history an event more memorable, or 
one more calculated to revive a national spirit 
among Americans, should that spirit occasionally 
fade, than the landing of the crew of the May- 
flower at Plymouth. The history of that event 
and its consequences has been served up in too 
many styles, at too many public dinners, to render 
fragments of it warmed up here at all delectable 
to the palate of our readers. But nevertheless it 
will be acknowledged that the celebration of the 
Pilgrim landing is about the last occasion which 
should be used by men of intellect or citizenship, 
or which could be used by men of decency or 
taste, for the exhibition of national flunkeyism, or 
tlie glorification of the power that with fire and 
sword drove the Pilgrims from their home&* 
Nevertheless, at a recent dinner given in this city 
by the New-England Society, some scenes occurred 
of so remarkable a character, we feel compelled to 
notice them briefly. 

Moses H. Griunell occujMed the chair. " On his 
right," we are told, appropriately sat Mr. Webster, 
who came on from Washington to be present at 

• Was any foatival instituted by the Prophets for the 
glorificution of the Pharaoh V Or were those who hank- 
croU after the flesh-pots (tlie free-traders of those days) 
perinitte<l to give three times three at the Passover for the 
reigiiinj; Pharaoh? If we celebrate our fathers, should we 
not celebrate the spirit? A prayer for England, begging 
that the hearts of kinc^s might be setrightiand thatu'od 
would avenge his atorviug people) would have been appro- 




this dinner ; and, Bingalar enough to relate, there 
came on too an honorable mdividual whose whole 
diplomatic dexterity seems to be employed in 
keying aa the heels of Mr. Webster, and crush- 
ing himself into every society where that gentleman 
appears.* Into the same conveyance which 
brooght Mr. Webster from the capital, Sir Henry 
Lytton Bulwer had got himself conveyed, and he 
Bqnatted himself down at the Pilgrim dinner ! ! 
opposite the former. There were also present, too, 
Bar. G. P. R. James, (owner of two imaginary 
horsemen, and author of " a story without a name," 
Ac^) flanked by others not celebrated for Ameri- 

We pass over the eai-ly toasts. [The first 
speaker was a reverend person, who indulged 
largely in praise?) of the Bible and other matters 
of a less sacred character, from which we extract 
a little. Having produced an old Bible, and 
handed it about in the order of brandy, wine, 
Word of God, and cigars, he gave its history in 
tliis &6hion : — 

* Let us, then, hold to our ideal, and hold it up 
to the sight of all men— (here he held up the old 
Bible)— and demand that everything shall be 
squared by the law of God. This Bible belongs 
to Mr. J. Coles of this city, who preserved it safe 
during h\,s stay in Georgia, and brought it back to 

Showing that *'Mr. J. Coles" is like the King 
of France, celebrated in an everlasting doggrel for 
marching up a declivity with a large army, and 
performing the memorable feat of marching down 
again, with tlie same all safe and right side up. 

The peculiar duties of the clerical order, and of 
course of him?olf, were thus shown by the reve- 
rend gentleman : — 

" The clergy were the lungs of the country, and 
their buaiuess was to bring the people into con- 
tact with the pure air of God." 

Had the reverend speaker claimed the honor of 
the brains, instead of the lung?, his comparison 
would have been more acceptable to his own or- 
der; though it must be confessed, if on that occa- 
sion he rightly represented them, we are ready to 
concede him the comparison. 

An effigy of the Mayflower, made of sugar and 
isinglass, lay on a clean plate on the table, and 
to this the orators in turn most solemnly addressed 
themselves. Streams of affection, and a flow of 
outpoured rhapsody deluged the little sugar bark. 

Among others Mr. Webster and Sir IL L. Bul- 
wer addressed the guests. 

Mr. Webster said : ♦ * » « We know that 
we are Americans. (Vociferous applause.) It is 
as Americans that we are known all over the 
world. Who asks what State a citizen of the 
United States is from, in Europe. Africa, or Asia ? 

• Now there was a day when the sons of God camo to 

present themselves before the Lord, and S n came also 

among them. And the Lord said unto 8 n, Whence 

oomest thou? Then 8 n answered the Lord and said, 

Prom goinjBT to and fro in the earth, and from walking up 

and down in it. And the Lord said unlo 8 n, Hast 

thou considered my servant J— b, that there is none Mice 
bim in the earth, a perfect and an upright man, one that 
feareth God, and osctieweth evil ? 

Then 8 n answered the Lord and said, Doth J — b 
foar God for nought ? 4tc dtc. 

Is he an American— does he belong to the flag of 
the country — does it protect him— is he under the 
protection of the eagle and the stars and stripes I 
If he is, all other conditions are regarded as sub- 
ordinate and not worthy of mention. Let it be 
our duty to cherish this American principle^^to 
spread it over the whole continent — to carry out 
English principles. I mean, sir, (addressing Sir 
Henry Bulwer, the British Minister,) the Anglo^ 
Scueon American principle (loud laughter, in which 
Sir Henry Bulwer joined) over this whole conti- 
nent — the great principles of Magna Charta—ihe 
principles of the American Revolution — the Eng- 
lish language, so that our children may recite 
Sliakspeare and Milton on the shores of the Paci- 
fie Before that, our American ideas, which, in the 
main, are English ideas, will penetrate Mexico."* 

Our opinion of Mr. Webster is too high to per- 
mit us to believe that he, as an American, serious* 
ly identified the spirit of the Norman monarchy 
with that of the American Republic, or that he 
seriously desires to see "English principles," by 
whatever name they be called, extended over this 
continent The supposition of its possibility, — ^the 
necessity of making this wretched explanation, 
calls into our face a blush of shame, and a sicken- 
ing sense of disgrace. Surely, surely it was the 
complimentary spirit of the occasion, and nothing 
else, that brought forth such expressions. We 
have been advised that in the conduct of a public 
journal or a Review, a single injurious expression, 
or that has not the right spirit, will undo the work 
of years. How much more then of the first of 
public men. Ought not the head of this mighty 
people, (we say head, as it is the popular belief 
that the government centres in him,) ought not the 
head of tliis grand Republic cany liiniself with 
the demeanor of the mightiest representative of 
men, — with the consciousness of twenty millions 
of freemen at his back, — who, if he but evince the 
spirit and give the word, will make him their 
leader, but whose eyes are now blinded to his 
surpassing genius and unequalled fame, by the 
intervention of a polished opacity, from whcwe 
diplomatic buttons the glory and the power of 
Great Britain flasli into their eves, and not the 
glory of Daniel Webster, or of the nation whom 
he represents? 

Nor are this American people wholly of Eng- 
lish descent Not one fourth of them have Eng- 
lish blood in their veins, and not one tenth of them 
but would feel injured by having attributed to 
them English principles, or principles identified 
with these. If we have been, or are ruled by 
Englisli principles, or their like, the Declaration of 
Independence was a farce, and the War of Inde- 
pendence an extravagant folly. On English prin- 
ciples some of our best Republicans should be 
hanged forthwith ; — it is better to let these gentle- 
men know at once where they are. 

The affable and flattering Mr. Bulwer rose to 
speak after Mr. Webster. The complimentary 
words bestowed on himself and liis government 
and its principles were of course assumed as lite- 
rally true, and fully appreciated. A toast was 





given, exLibiiing singular effrontery in itself^ as 
follows: — 

" Old England and Young America. — Bound to- 
gether by a common language and a common 
Uneage, ic." 

** Young America " must feel very proud of its 
distinguished ancestry ; and the Titnea newspaper 
must moreover feel deeply gratified at this ac- 
knowledgment of paternal autho: ity and blessings 
£rom its lately rebellious infant. But to this toast 
Sir Henry Lytton Bulwer, having probably first 
written to Chatficld and Palmerston about the 
agreeable sport of humbugging the Yankees, de- 
livered the following large quantity of self-glorifi 
cation : — 

"He said he had made a point of attending that 
meeting, since he knew that gentlemen there pres- 
ent did not expect in him the buttoned-up mplo- 
matist, but the Englishman with the open hand 
and heart, who would state to them what the feel- 
ings and thoughts of Englishmen were." 

Was there ever stich an ambassador ? He ac- 
tually unbuttoned his waistcoat, and presented 
to them his whole heart and soul, at the first out- 
set Then, after having favored " the beautiful 
females behind the Corinthian pillars at the back 
of the hall" with the second long simile with 
which they were that evening presented, and turned 
over American literature, science, and art, he ad- 
dressed Mr. Webster : — 

" And if I extend my inquiry still further, if I 
wish to discover a man whose young imagination 
was ripened amongst the solitary scenes of border 
life, and whose manly judgment was formed amidst 
the daily and active business of great communi- 
ties, can you not point out to rae such a man— one 
whose eloquence is poetry held in chains by rea- 
son? whose statesmanship is philosophy reduced 
to practice ? who stands secona to none of Ameri- 
ca's children — I should say superior to all, if the 
tall and venerable figure of an absent friend did 
Bot rise up before me, whose star shines from the 
West, as yours, sir, (bowing to Mr. Webster,) fills 
the East of the hemisphere, radiant on all sides 
with intellectual hght" (Three cheers.) 

After the praise of its head, follows the glorifi- 
cation of the country itself: — 

" Gentlemen, I love your country : it is amongst 
the earliest and most favored of England's chil- 
dren ; and methiuks I can still trace the character- 
istic features of the parent in the lineaments of the 
offspring. I do not, indeed, believe that the mag- 
netic influence of a common origin is yet extinct ; 
and when I stood with you but recently, mourning 
by the grave of the gallant Taylor, did you not 
ahed with me a sympathizing tear over the fate of 
the illustrious Peel? Aye, and if the spangled 
banner should be again unfurled on the ocean or 
the field, on the one scene of action will not your 
sons remember the glorious words of Nelson,* — 
on the other, will not the name of the great warrior 
veteran, who lias borne the old banner of Wolfe 
and Marlborough aloft and victorious through a 
hundred fights, rush to your recollection and in- 
spire your ranks ?" 

• The words are curiously apt for Amerioans, and should 
l»« emblazoned on the star-spangled banner — " England 
•xpects every man to do his duty." 

Well, we rather think not, to all these ques- 
tions ; but it is well to know that Sir H. L. K 
loves our country because it is among the ear- 
liest and most favored of England's children ; and 
therefore, inasmuch as it is not English, he doth 
not love it ; and the proportion being one fourth 
to three fourths, we conclude the quarter of love is 
negatived by the quarter of hate, and the remainiDg 
half of his feelings is hate unalloyed. So of Touch- 
stone in the forest: it was good for certain reasons, 
and not good for certain reasons ; and the whole 
reason of his liking forest life was, that he was 
in the forest, and wished to make the best of it 

So of some great " University^ in New-England : 
it was good because "it was the genial daughter 
of his own alma mater ;" and Americans are great 
and good, because they are '* Albion's transatlantic 
children 1" 

It is hardly needful to particularize more at 
length the extravagant flattery of individuals^ 
and thorough British offensiveness of the entire 
speech. Let us add that it was followed by the 
band playing *^God save the Queen," amid flie 
most rapturous enthusiasm; and that we would 
have not one word to say in defence of Sir Henry 
Lyttoii Bulwer, but for a pointed remark deliv- 
ered in his speech with singular acuteness and pre- 
cision, showing what an opinion he had formed of 
his audience. 

" There are few examples," he said, " in history 
of men staying their footsteps in so unpromising a 
spot ; but ne guessed (great laughter and cheering) 
that the ancestors of those present were plucW 

More a good deal than some of those present 
could say of themselves. " God save the Queen !" 

Vide Rabelais, Book I., Ch. xxxviii. : ^ Hew 
Gargantua did eat up six pilgrims in a salad," 
The pilgrims hid themselves in a garden among 
the lettuces, and the giant King Gargantua, pluck- 
ing the lettuces, carried them home and ate them ; 
and, says our satirical historian, " They were all the 
while m so great fear they dared not speak nor 
cough. If we speak, said they, he will kill us 
for spies." There is a cabbage garden we wot 
of, in which several millions are hid away for 
fear, and they dare not speak nor cough for fear 
of being killed. And the giant daily carries away 
the cabbages and eats the pilgrims in them. VtoB 
American Review for December, article, **Who 
Feed England?" 

But one gentleman present had the manliness 
or decency to break this swollen bubble of Flon- 
keyism, the Rev. Dr. Bethune. We are glad to 
be enabled to say that there was even one Amer- 
ican to utter such common truths as these :-» 

" Rev. Dr. Bethune, in reply to the toast, of the 
' Hospitality of the Hollanders to the fathers of 
New-England demands the everlasting gratitude 
of the sons,' said, with all respect for some speakers 
who had preceded him, this country was not alto- 
gether a daughter of England. Americans w&e 
not the descendants of any particular nation, bat 
of every nation in the world." 

We ask pardon of our readers, in connectioo 
with matters so serious, for mentioning the fact 
that the novelist of the two horsemen did not 
speak, which was a loss. As a descendant from oqq 




of the Pilgrim Fathers, apd looking to them and 
their fellowq in England in the days of Cromwell, 
their mighty chief, as the fomiders of the great 
Republic, and the originators of civil and religious 
liberty, ^e desire to see the anniversary of their 
comiog made hereafter an occasion for the defence 
of the principles they cherished ; a solemn cere- 
mony, to which the mends and representatives of 
pure Republicanism of all nations may be invited, 
and at which the mighty dead may be invisibly 
present, and impart their own spirit to the hving. 

Soon after writing the above, we read Mr. Web- 
ster's powerful vindication of the language of our 
Gk>vemment, in its recognition of Hungary as an 
independent nation, in his letter of Dec 21st, 1850, 
from the Department of State, in reply to the 
letter of the Chevaher J. Hulsemann on the part of 

In the course of this vindication, Mr. Webster 
Bays : " The Government and people of the United 
States, like other intelligent Governments and 
communities, take a lively interest in the move- 
ments and the events of this remarkable age, in 
whatever part of the world they may be exliibited. 
But the interest taken by the United States in 
those events has not proceeded from any disposi- 
tion to depart from that neutrality towards foreign 
powers, wnich is among the deepest principlcis and 
the most cherished traditions of the political his- 
tory of the Union. It has been the necessary effect 
of the unexampled character of the events them- 
selves, which could not fail to arrest the attention 
of the cotemporary world ; as they will doubtless 
fill a memorable page in history. But the under- 
signed goes farther, and freely admits that in pro- 
pcMrtion as these extraordinary events appeared to 
have their origin in those great ideas of rusponsible 
and popular governments on which the American 
Constitutions themselves are wholly founded, they 
could not but command the warm sympathy of the 
people of this country. 

"Well known circumstances in tlieir history, in- 
deed their whole history, have made them tlie re- 
presentatives of purely popular principles of Gov- 
ernment In tliis light they now stand before the 
world. They could not, if they would, conceal 
their character, their condition, or their destiny. 
They could not, if they so desired, shut out from 
the view of mankind the causes which have placed 
them, in so short a national career, in the station 
which they now hold among tlie civilized States 
of the world They could not, if they desired it, 
suppress either the thoughts or tlie hopes whicli 
anse in men's minds, in other countries, from con- 
templating their successful example of free gov- 

" That very intelligent and distinguished person- 
age, the Emperor Joseph the Second, was among 
the first to discern this necessary consequence of 
the American Revolution on tlie sentiments and 
opinions of tlie people of Europe. In a letter to 
hifl Minister in tlie Netherlands in 1787, he observes 
that ' it is remarkable that France, by the assist- 
ance which she afforded to the Americans, gave 
birth to reflections on freedom.' Tliis fact, which 
the sagacity of that monarch perceived at so early 
A day, Is now known and admitted by intelligent 

Powers all over the world. True, indeed, it is, 
that the prevalence on the other continent of sen- 
timents favorable to Republican Liberty, is the 
result of the re-action of America upon Europe : 
and the source and centre of this re-action nas 
doubtless been, and now is, in these United States. 
" The position thus belonging to the United States 
is a fact as inseparable from their history, their 
constitutional organization, and their character, as 
the opposite position of the Powers composing the 
European Alliance is from the history and organi- 
zation of the Governments of those Powers. Tho 
sovereigns who form that Alliance have not unfre- 
^uently felt it their right to interfere with the po- 
htical movements of foreign States ; aud have, in 
their manifestoes and declarations, denounced the 
popular ideas of the age, in terms so comprehen- 
sive as of necessity to mcludc the United States 
and their forms of governments. It is well known 
that one of the leading principles announced by 
the allied Sovereigns after the restoration of the 
Bourbons, is, that all popular or constitutional 
rights are holden no otherwise than as grants and 
indulgences from crowned heads." 

Mr. Webster adds farther: "Mr. Hulsemann 
and the Cabinet at Vienna may rest assured that, 
in the mean time, while performing with strict and 
exact fidelity all their neutral duties, nothing will 
deter either the Government or tlie people of the 
United States from exercising, at tlieir own dis- 
cretion, the rights belonging to them as an inde- 
pendent nation, and of forming and expressing 
their own opinions, freely and at all times, upon 
the great pohtical events which may transpire 
among the civilized nations of the earth. Their 
own institutions stand upon the broadest principles 
of civil liberty ; and believing those principles and 
the fundamental laws iu which they are embodied 
to be eminently favorable to the prosperity of 
States — to be, i7i fact, the onltf principles of gov- 
er?iment which meet the detnands of the present 
ciiligJUened age" 

These powerful declarations defend the. Secre- 
tary against himself, and commit him to a line of 
conduct that every American must approve ; but, 
with all respect for his great authority, and his 
eminent position as the guide of our public coun- 
sels, we conceive that these principles, native to 
himself, are not "English i)rincipies," but their 
mortal antagonists ; and that when they come to 
be applied in practice, England will find herself 
compelled to recede from her enormous pretension 
upon this continent, and will find that the Ameri- 
can people, as they live by the principles so 
grandly set forth by their Secretary, so they must 
become their defenders, and the stern antagonista 
of those who violate and trample upon them. 

" Father and Son." — We are indebted to tho 
editorial columns of the London Times newspaper 
for the following singular instance of paternal so- 
licitude and natural affection. It is very affecting. 
The anxiety of the tender parent to beat his own 
poor son without hurting the feelings of anybody 
IS singularly sincere and dramatic, and withal true 
to nature. Tlie old gentleman's " long-practised 
skiU," hi8 " steady industry," and his " dogged dq- 




terminatioD ** are beauiiiiilly introduced and admi- 
rably contrasted with the tender, endearing, and 
soft qualities which he attributes to his infant 
prodigy, the lad's "youth, ingenuity and ardor." 
And Uien, to cap the climax of the tragic scene, 
comes the " fell necessity" which makes the old 
dada so very cruel and merciless to his ofiEspiing — 
we fancy we are reading the Roman story anew, 
inserting merely Bull for Brutus ; or the tragedy 
of Sophocles, in which Antigone plays the part of 
^ The Navigation Laws," ruthlessly sacrificed by 
the parent hands to appease the destinies of com- 
merce. But our readers must judge for them- 
selves — and probably not a few of the sterner sort 
may be affected even unto tears. Boyl brinff 
hither that reviving vial and our cambric han£ 
kerchief Oh 1 bitter, bitter sorrow, that our par- 
ricidal hands should be raised against so simple- 
minded and generous a father 1 — 

<* We have several times had to direct attention 
to the fresh and fresh lines of steamers on the 
American rivers and lakes, to vast additional 
lengths of canal, and the endless ramifications of 
the railway system ; as also to the new manufac- 
tures wherever an opening offered. The rapid in- 
crease of population in the States, augmented by 
an annual immigration of near 300,000 from these 
isles, is a fact that forces itself on the notice and 
the interest of the most unobservant and incurious. 
All these promise to develop the resources of the 
States to such an extent as to compel us to a com- 
petition as difficult as it ^ unavoidable. We must 
run a race with our gigantic and unshackled rival 
We must set our long-practised skill, our steadv 
industry, and our dogged determination against his 
youth, ingenuity and ardor. It is the father who 
runs a race with his son. A fell necessity con- 
strains us, and we must not be beat Let our 
ship-builders and their employers take warning in 
time. There will alwavs be abundant supply of 
vessels good enough and fast enough for short voy- 
ages. The coal trade can take care of itself^ for it 
will ever be a refuge for the destitute. But we 
want fast vessels for the long voyages, which other- 
wise will fall into American hands. It is fortunate 
that the Navigation Laws have been repealed in 
time to destroy those false and unreasonable ex- 
pectation?, which might have lulled the ardor of 
British competition. We now all start together, 
with a fair field and no favor. The American 
Captain can call at Loudon, and the British Cap- 
tain can pursue his voyi^e to New- York. Who 
can complain ? Not we." 

" Not we " — oh no, not you ! Why the devil (ex- 
cuse the remark) should you complain ? Did not 
a person called Walker, and a thorough scheming 
little aristocrat, named Bancroft, to whom you 
were so very civil and good that he loves you bet- 
ter than hifi own kin, and various other persons of 
your party in this country, induce your " youthful 
and ardent" or verdant son to throw away his best 
weapon for the control of the seas, to suit your 
necessities, under the score of "reciprocity," when 
the reciprocity was, like the handle of a pitcher, 

all on one side, and that yonrown? Complain f 
Why, such was the anxiety to meet your wishes 
about keeping up the seeming " control of the 
seas," that even when your youthful and ardent 
son succeeded in whippmg you clean in speed and 
bottom, threatening not only to match you on the 
high seas, but even at no distant day to manage 
the entire commerce and carrying trade of his own 
country, the commerce of that country was as fat 
as possible taken out of his grasp, and put into 
your own. What an old fool you would be to 
complain, Father dear, at such unmitigated good 
luck on your side, and folly on ours. If it were 
otherwise you would complain rather obstreper- 

However, it is highly satisfactory to AmericaDB 
(it must be) to know that nothing has occurred to 
**lull the ardor of British competition" likewise; 
that even should British competition get lulled 
while watching the new steamers on our rivers^ 
and our "^ new manufactures wherever an oppor- 
tunity offers" to clothe ourselves, (through the 
otherwise overtasked energies of "■ British compe- 
tition,") that every step we take even on our own 
soil ** is a fact that forces itself on the notice and 
the interest of the most unobservant and incurious" 
We are a highly interesting infant phenomenon— 
we are. 

Priestly Profaiott. — We read: "The Nea^ 
polita*^ Government has prohibited the sale of the 
works of the following authors : Shakspeare, Schil- 
ler, Moli^re, Lamartine, Lucretius, Lucian, Sopho- 
cles, Sismondi, Thiers, and Humboldf 

So singular a medley of the sublime and the 
ridiculous probably never before entered the head 
of a priest or a king. King Bauba seems to have 
a really astonishing discrimination in literatur& 
What can be atheistical, anarchical, or anti- 
monarchical in Shakspeare we are at considerable 
perplexity to discover. But we can fancy the 
scene in Hades which may be produced by this 
announcement When the great Will finds hmi- 
self associated with a maudlin sentimentalist and 
writer of grisettes* amours like Lamartine, and a 
newspaper statesman who owes his celebrity to 
the dynasties he assisted to overthrow by support- 
ing like Thiers ; when the grave Humboldt, a sort 
of nineteenth century Sinbad, or Oil Bias of phi- 
losophy, finda jiimself alongside of the sharp and 
witty Moli^re ; when the glowing and condensed 
soul of Sophocles is coupled with the writer of 
some sixty volumes of lachrymose histories like 
Sismondi, Lucretius must go singing lewd soogi 
to the maids of Hecate, and Lucian will have, 
thanks to King Bauba, and the Roman CaUiolic 
and Apostolic inquisition on dead genius and living 
imbecility, an opportunity of inditing a dialogoe 
more novel and probably more enduring than any 
which he has left to us of the upper world. King 
Bauba ! on the part of the souls in hell who will 
enjoy one good laugh over your foUy, we thank 


Cri&cdl Jfotieet, 



7%« Poet Camphelts Advertitement for a Child- 

The following was handed to us by a gentleman 
formerly connected with the press in London. We 
place it before our readers without comment. "We 
nave never before met with the verses, and pub- 
lish them rather for the amusement they may 
affi)rd our readers, as illustrating a private trait of 
their tender-hearted and accomplished author, 
than in the hope that they will add anything to 
his poetical reputation. 

7)» the Editor of the American Whig Revtno : 

Mt Dear Sib: — In the able and interesting 
sketch of the British poet Campbell, in your last, 
there is an error, which, I feel assured, you will 
have pleasure in correcting. His " Advertisement " 
for the young lady was not in prose^ as inserted by 
you, but in verse, according to the copy inclosed. 

Dr. Beattie, I niay add, must have been hoaxed 
by an English literary wag named HilL The cir- 
cumstances I remember perfectly well. Towards 
the close of Campbell's career, I met him one day 
in St. James's Park, when a pretty child arrested 
ins attention. The poet, who at this period was 
becoming peculiarly sensitive, wished to obtain her 
address; and Uilf, coming up at the moment, 
jokingly suggested that this could only be procured 
oy making love to the nurse. Campbell appealed to 
me, and, with the view of dispelling his melan- 
choly, I told him there was no other course, unless 
he rolloweti the practice of a person who had ad- 
vertised for a wife. Hill, taking up the sorry joke, 
next morning hurried to a London newspaper 
office, and inserted the document you print 
Campbell, who was exceedingly annoyed by its 
appearance, on the following evening sent me the 
pretty little pc)em I subjoin. I need not say it 
obtained immediate publicity. 

Witli much regar(l, believe me, yours truly, 

A Friend of the Poet. 
New- York, October ISth, 1850. 


By Thomas Campbell, 

I hold it a religious duty 
To love and worship children's beauty; 
Tliey've lea«»t the taint of earthly clod — 
They're freshest from the hand of God. 
"With heavenly looks, they make us sure 
The Heaven that made them must be pure. 
We love thcrp not in earthly fashion, 
But with a beatific passion. 

I chanced to, yesterday, behold 
A maiden child of beauty's mould ; 
Twas near (more sacred was the scene) 
The palare of our patriot Queen. 

The little charmer, to my view, 
Was sculpture brought to life anew ; 
Her eyes had a poetic glow, 
Her pouting mouth was Cupid's bow ; 
And through her frock I could descry 
Her neck and shoulders' symmetry. 
'Twas obrioa?, from her walk and gait. 
Her limbs were beautifully straight. 
I stopped th' enchantress, and was told. 
Though tall, she was but four years old. 
Her guide so grave an aspect wore 
I could not ask a question more — 
But followed her. The httle one 
Threw backward, ever and anon, 
Her lovely neck, as if to say, 
I know you love me. Mister Grey. 
For, by its instinct, childhood's eye 
Is shrewd in physiognomy ; 
They well distinguish fawning art 
From sterhng fondness of the heart 

And so she flirted like a true 
Good woman, till we bade adieu I 
Twas then I with regret grew wild — 
Oh ! beauteous, interesting child. 
Why asked I not thy home and name ? 
My courage failed nie— more's the shiune. 

But where abides this jewel rare ? 
Oh, ye that own her, tell me wlierc ! 
For sad it makes my heart and sore, 
To think I ne'er may meet her jiiDrc* 

United States Monthly Law Magazine, 

Tlie January number of this publication ha» 
been received by us, and iu its pre-eiit form mani- 
fests avast improvement over the precedinjr num- 
bers, not only in its style, but in the quality at 
well as quantity of its matter. From its »)bjects 
and design, as set forth in its prospccms, and the 
manner in which they seem to be carrieil out, we 
should judge it invaluable to the profession, while 
it assuredly contains much that will interest tlie 
general reader. This journal aims to set forth, in 
a condensed form, whatever ia of iutere>t to the 
legal profession throughout the Uniti-d States, and 
to give a more prominent [^o-itiou to the legal liter- 
ature of this country. But it«? most important fea- 
ture, and the one upon which its utility as well as 

* It may be added that the linoA urrcstod the attoniion 
of the little lady's p.irents, and that a poi tical reply, fol- 
lowed by an interej^tinR ac<iuaintunco, wug B;'nt. The dr- 
cunistance was brought under the notii-e of the Engl'di 
Queen, and an attempt was made by some friends of tho 
poet, who knew well his peculiar qualifi;'j.t.onn for the i ost, 
to obtain for him the appointment of Tutor to the Trinco 
of Wales. The application was met witli no encourage- 


Oritieal Nbtieea. 


its 8UCCC8A must rest, is its monthly notes of the 
more able and important decisions of the courts 
in America and Great Britain. From the intri- 
cacy of commercial relations, and the unify of in- 
terests pervading our Republic, it is highly impor- 
tant that the practising lawyer should keep the 
run of all new decisions, not only in hia immediate 
locality, but in the remotest sections of the coun- 
try. They should reach him with telegraphic 
speed. But to this there are many obstacles — 
distance, the expensive nature of law books, and 
more especially the Toluminousness of the reports 
themselves. Law reporters too often eke out 
their pages with the formal proceedings of courts 
and the lengthy statements and one-sided argu- 
ments of counsel, which the professional reader 
feels little inclination to wade through, much less 
to pay for. The opinion of the court, which pre- 
sents with fairness the arguments pro and con, 
and which at any rate is the only thing sought 
for, since it is " the law," is almost lost sight of, 
and with a single halfpenny's worth of br^ad, we 
have an almost intolerable ** quantity of sack." 
The Law Magazine avoids all these sources of 
annoyance, and in its reports of cases, strips off 
the technicalities of practice, and presents the 
principle in a plain and condensed form, but 
with sufficient precision of statement and accu- 
racy of reference to render it authority in courts 
of law. It thus embodies an amount of legal 
information which could by no possibility be ob- 
tained in the same space by any other vehicle. 
Accompanying these notes of cases, are monthly 
alphabetical digests of all cases of general inter- 
est in the superior courts of law ana equity, both 
in the United States and England, properly clas- 
sified and arranged for reference. 

The present number coitains, among other 
things, an extremely vigorous article upon " The 
Practice of the Law," which not even the veteran 
practitioner can read without some degree of 
profit, or at least of pleasure ; a brief sket(£ of the 
life of Judge Cranen ; an article upon " Law Re- 
form ;" some remarks upon the legal profession as 
it exists in the United States ; an essay on Na- 
tional Jurisprudence ; and Critical Notices on late 
Law Reports. 

We have seen letters to the Editor of the Law 
Magazine from distinguished American jurists, 
which of themselves augur most fevorably for its 
success ; and we have httle doubt but that it will 
speedily acquire the reputation and positi(»i it 

Reveries of a Bachelor; or a Book of the Heart. 
By Ik. Maevel. New- York : Baker A Scribner. 

Ere we have Iiad an opportunity to express our 
opinion of this delightful book, it has, we under- 
stand, already i)assed through two editions. 
Tiie readers of this Review are acquainted with 
the graceful and piquant style of the author, 
through the " Notes by the Road " and other pa- 
pers contributed to our pages. Certainly he must 
take rank among the first, for purity and beauty 
of style ; and we must confess to a preference, 
over all other books of modem travels, of his 
"Fresh Gleanings." These '' Reveriei" have a 

peculiar fascination. They are hMirt pieture9 of 
sunshine and shadow, joys and sorrows. Drawn 
by the hand of a master, they are full of tboae 
" touches of nature " that make ** the whole worid 
kin ;" and we are drawn on from the beginniiu^ 
to the end of them, as if by a melaodioly thongn 
pleasing spell, listening as it were to some en- 
chanter, recounting to us the thoqgfata, and feel- 
ings, and aspirations which we had nev^ dared 
utter, scarcely to ourselves. Oar limited apaoe 
precludes more than this bare mention of the book, 
or we would try and give some more definite idea 
of the very ingenious form into whidb it is thrown, 
the beautiful Uionghts and seotiinents with which 
it abounds, and the charming pictores of i^uuncter 
and scenery that adorn it A Boston editor, no 
doubt regarding Mr. Mitchell as the antbor of the 
" Lorgnette," savs it is by one of the epkemerml 
writers of the day. This is a pity, for ve thmk 
the book would convey pleasure, and pivfit too^ to 
several venerations ; and we would therefore re- 
commend the author to go to Boston, and take 
some lessons in writing for posteiitT, and thus 
become one of those ** immortal few that were not 
bom to die." But seriously, what is this iealonaj 
between the two cities kept up bv f Notning, we 
believe, but the temptations orored to point a 
sentence therewith, as Olostrated above. 

lUiulreUions of Wdshinaton Irving*9 Dolph Bjuh 
liger. Desired and etdied by Jobw W. 
Ehxinger. New-York : G. P. Potoam. 1851. 

On opening this production we nrast oonfoai 
that we were surprised at the remarkable merit it 
exhibits. Being disappointed somewhat in tfut 
artist's first attempt in this fonn, hia iUnstratknt 
of Hood's ** Bridge of Sighs," we were not pre pa red 
to ex[>ect such a masterly handling of hia anbraet as 
is exhibted in this series of plates. The booc is in 
the form and style in which tne J^ Union pdbliahed 
Darle/s illustrations of Lrving^s Storiea of Bip 
Van Winkle and Sleepy Hollow. The platee are ten 
in number, and are preceded by the story elegantly 
printed. The humorous and not the pathetie la 
evidentlv this artisf s forte. We eaoA&x this an 
eminently successful effort, exhibiting a true sym- 
pathy with and delicate appreciation of hki sub- 
ject, — one, we thmk, the most artistically perfect ef 
all Mr. Irving's productions, so wonderral^ aredM 
natiu*al and the supernatural blended tqgi^her 
in it To say that these illustrations are worthy ef 
it is the highest praise we can bestow. Tbey hafe 
afforded us infinite pleasure in studying them, and 
we commend them to the centre-tables of all who 
would add a new fireside delight to tfaese kqg 
winter evenings, as onie of the very beet oC fha 

Chanticleer: A Thanksgiviriff Story c/ th$P§th 
body Family. New- York: RedfiehL 
B. B. Mussey. 

A book full of pleasant thoughts^ and pic 
pictures, purely American; its sphere oi aetioi 
not confined to any particular i^t^ bat left to^ 
reader's fancy to locate. 

Truly appropriate to the happy aeaaoiv i^ tinge 

Oritkal Jf^otieet. 

tbepenual in anj but a happier Ihime of miiKL 

llie characters are true to the life. Old Pea- 
bodr, a patriarch, overflowiog with the mUk of 
kJndneHs towards the whole human race ; the 
gri|aiig merchant, and suborned wife ; the wcallhj 
Ktb. CuTBek, an argosy with eilkeo soilt^ lodea 
«ith wealth and pride ; her son made up of 
puppyLsm, Paris coals and, patent leather; the 
heart;, humelj, &nner foUi from the West ; the 
•CVTOwing mother; the roUicking sea-captain ; the 
true and firm-hearted grandson, and hia gentle 
Uiriam ; and last of all, the ever important 
Mopsey, " the laaria wi' the bonny locks," are the 

KminenC characters in the pleasant play. We 
e not seen a more ngreeable gift-book. 

Biranger ; Tim ktindTed of Ait Li/rUi done into 
Snglah Verm. By Wiluam l^oirao. Mew- 
York: O. P. Putnam. 

Li the wide ranee of French poetry, the verse 
of B£ranger is perhaps the most difficult to trans- 
late. Coming, evidently, warm fr om the heart 
and appealing to the Heosibilitiea of the reader, 
Vitty and lu^croiia, idiomatic, and full of every, 
day phrases of the people, these Lyrics present ob- 
staclea insumounlable to a translator of ordinary 
powers. That Mr. Young has l>een very success- 
fol is admitted bytheeritica,andin this opinion we 
cheerfully acquiesce. That be has sbovro extremely 
bad taste in his introductory preface is equally 
dear. He apologaei for Iranslaling a work of Re- 
publican tendency. " Place, and peculiar circum- 
rtances," saya Mr. Young, "render it pardonable 
that an Englishman, stTongli/ andsliadilg attached 
to the monarchical itutiltttiont of hit nalhe land, 
ihould make this reservation when aspiring lu lay 
before the citizens of a Bepublic a work which 
fcareatbes the very essence of Republicanism." 

The editor of any paper, the author of any book, 
eoicpited and published in the United Slates, 
were wber to keep such sentiments, if he posseg- 
aes them, conSned to his own bosom. If " pecu- 
liar circumstances' compel bim to seek a support 
in a country whose institutions are repugnant to 
lum, let bim at [east evince sufficient gratitude to 
the land that feeds and protects him, to abstain 
from giatuitoos insult It is very evident that 
■uch anti-American feeling is far from popular 
with oa. We wish our author many editions with 
« new and widely different preface. 

Of the day, was a happy thought 
welcome one to the reading public 

jje Quincmrls, we think, the very beet maga- 
liiie writer of the aae. Full of knowledge as he 
ia CO all toiucs of Uterature ; learned in all the 

great languages ancient and modern, with a rft. 
markablv clear and forcible style ; keen in his 
wit. and with remarkaUe powers of analyaia, 
he ia undoubtedly somewhat conceited, and the 
cmfidence he has in his own powers in that par- 
ticular, betrays him sometimes into a carelcseneas 
in which the reader will find lum tripping. As 
an evidence of this we may refer to Ins observa- 
tions on the question of the condition of Sbak- 
Bpeare's boyhood, page 36, He speaks contemptu- 
ously of the question as having no practical bearing 
He says : " The tree has iallen ; it was confosfedly 
the noblest of the forest, and we must therefore 
conclude that the soil in which it flourished was 
either the best possible ; or, if not so, any thing 
bad in its properties bad been disarmed, and 
neutralized by the vital forces of the plant, or by 
the benignity of nature." He says it is a mere 
question of curiosity; whereas to us it appears 
the most practical of all the Shaktpfarc gucitioru. 
Certainly, to know the constituents of the soil and 
other conditions in which a plant grew, b almost 
the only practical question to us about it Its in. 
herent vital forces and the "benignities" of nature 
are only for our admiration and reverence. But 
wa refer to this only as a specimen of the nodding 
of the Homer. The volume contains admirable 

A book of jests is rightly esteemed to be the 
most stupid of volumes, but by a "book of jests" 
"" '"iplied simply a bundle of Joe Milleriama 
i together, and forming about as agreeable a 
"Companion" as would one of thot^i human 
hyenas, who go about the world with tlieir faces 
moulded bylong practice into one eternal grin. 

Mr. Evelyn's " Companion " is a work of n far 
different stamp, and comprises the choice sayings 
01 many of the eminent wits of all ages, from 
Seneca to Sydney Smith, who, as the llev. Mr. 
Stiggins would eipress it, is our author's " particular 
vanity." Scintillations from Cowley, Walpole, 
Lamb. Ben Jonsun, Sir TTiomaa Btuwiic, Swift, 
Walton, and Fuller, sparkle throughout Uie book, 
in which no man can find a dull page. 

We Americana have a cant, npplied to a 
person posses=ine; great colloquial powers— "He 
talks like a buok." Could any one l>e met with 
who could talk like the book ifofore uo, lie would 
be an after-dinner companion worlli meeting, and 
would prove the moat successful of " diners-out" 

, tliat hai yet Vfallcn 

Had Columbus succeeded as badly in the dis- 
covery of our Continent as we have in that of 
our author's talent, we fear that the " Battle of 
Bunker Hill" would yet remain unfought 

Oritieal Xotieei. 

Jan. 1861. 


TTk publication of tbiB book is one of those ex- 
traordinary thinga vhich men will Bometimea do, 
■od For the doing of irhich no mortal man can 
give anytiiing approacliin^ to a reaaon. It woold 
make a fitting di»acrl fur aheavf dinner of" Amer- 
ica Discovered." One Terae par eiample : 
"By her side Cherubic Asta, 
With white limba like alabaster, 
Playa along Heaven'a emerald paatore — 

Ganymede of joy below — 
While liur saintly Koul sings Pieana 
In the Amatajitbuie .£una 
Of high Heaven with her dear Fleance 
Of the days of long ago." 

Btack, of the Middle Temple. Philadelphia: 

A. Hart, late Gary & Hart. 

A series of conversatiMis on the u 
nature. Wo open (he book and quote at raod'im. 
Hie following sentence will commend it to macj 
minds:— "Most wisely h^a nature given to child- 
hood a love of the wonderful and the beautiful; 
and of all pernicious cants, one of the worst is 
that, which, under yetence of loving truth, crams 
tha memory and stimulates the intellect when 
full play ahould be given to the Eancy and (he 

Tie JTorWi Progreii : A DUfionary of Daiet, 
milk Tabular View» of GcatTal Hiitory, and an 
Historieal Chart. Edited by G. P. Pdthaic. 
New- York; Q. P. Putnani, 165 Broadway. 


Hr. Putnam ie one of those laborious men who3e 
aid is BO needful to (he scholar and (he student; 
The IHctionnry of Dates is an admirable book of 
reference, and in chronology is EaultleBi, The 
tables are well arranged, presenting at a glance 
the remarkable cotemporary events of eadi period 
or year, llie paper and print are exquisite, and 
the work is nut less remarkable as a specimen of 
American art, than for the singular minuteness 
and industry uf (lie editor. A Ubrary without it 
is wanting in a prime necessity. 

nittory and Geography of the Middle Age; for 

Collfget and Schonlt, Chiefly from the FreneK 

" ■ OKoaoB W. Gbesnk. D. Appleton i Co. 

■k seeme to be an admirably arrar^ed 

mediffival liiatory for the purposes in- 

eed, to all it will serve as a safe 

[I tlie dark labyrinth of the period of 

■cats. Tlie experience of tbe learned 

enabled him to make a contribution to 

rature much needed. 

applied to them, produces a very fair music. Hr. 
Carpenter we know not, but every one must begin 
by being aalmown. HejoinctA rerse ia verse with 
Borne ease, and we wish him good health, and 
better emjdoyment 

Anterieim Sdtication, ili Prineiplei and Eletnttdi. 
By Edwaid D. Hahsfisi^. Hew- York : A. T, 
Barnes A Ca 

The subject and purpose of this book shonld 
commetid tt to nniversal attention. A system of 
education trnly adapted Ic tbia country, politi- 
cally and moredly, ia the great desideratum. All 
contribution^ to a IborougJi discussion of (he sub- 
ject should be eagerly welcomed and universally 

Riehard Schuy, and Ou Oovenvn't yatnily. A 
Rns^urban Tale, simple and popuUir. yet cul- 
tured and noble, of morals, sentiment and life, 
practically treated, and pleasantly illui«rated 
Containing also hinti on being good and dmng 
good. By the Author of "MftrgnreC and 
"Philo." Boston; Phillip*, Sampson A Co. 

sure we may strongly recommend iU pcru- 
Althoogh, aa tbe title page (which we give 
nbove) would soggeft, we may expect some imi- 
tation of Dickens's style,— and this will lie obvioos 
to the reader in the first chapter,— yet it ia not 
withont its originality and much graphic power. 
Hiere is alto obvious (hronghuut (he book, an 
earnest purpose of good, a high apprecialim at 
religion, and a strong good sense in its inculcation. 

This is a collection of poems in wliich the 
gentns of the foir authoress in the production, 
and her taste in the selection, of pure and grace- 
ful poetry, have been happily combined (o mt^ 
a volume worthy of a ptaco on evury lady's table: 
It is as pleasant a gift-Dook as eoutd be selected 

The Sporttman'4 Vade Meeam. By " DmD." 
Edited by Frank Forrester. New-Tork ; Stri:^er 
£ Towneend. 
A small volume of some eighty pages, contaia. 

log much useful information of the canine race in 

few words, and also a few hints of sporting geoer 

ally. It is beautifully got up. 

The Artitlf Chromatic Hand Book, being a PraOi- 

eal JVeaiue on Pigmenie, At., cfcc. By Jon.'* P. 

BiDNU. New- York : G. P. Putnam. 

A book apparently of value to the young artist, 

but so entirely practical that we can only judge 

of its merits by the favorable opinions uf practiod 

^ c^^^ 


« H^ WarkPi Fairr 


grand that even iDonsters stood in afiright 
before the limner's semblance of a woman's 
head in anger ; epic poems so true, so 
resounding, so sublime, that they first gave 
gods, then heroes, then victories, then 
immortality, to the hearers ; love songs 
so captivating that they enchained con- 
queroi-s ; and staves of the Anacreontic feast 
80 seductive, that they furnished, even to the 
enjoyment of the most sensual, the tenets of 
a philosophic school. To celebrate these 
grand triumphs of Hellenic genius over the 
wilderness of earth and the vacuity of 
thought, to renew new contests in the arts, 
and develop still further the genius by which 
tlioy were effected, the civilized world assem- 
bled in the Elean OHve Groves. Thither 
at the stated time came all the men of 
Achaia, all the children of the Classic moth- 
er ; uninvited save by the national will ; 
unprotected save by the Olympian Jove; 
unaided save by that devotion to science, 
that love of art, which had dictated their 
triumfihs and insured to them immortality. 
No public meetings to subscribe oboli to 
furnish food by the way; no reinforcement 
of police to protect the traveller ; no pubhc 
ships to carry him or his : the people of 
Greece, free and brave, fit to protect them- 
selves from outrage, and scorning pubhc 
help or private charity, were to bo seen 
wending their way at the full moon of every 
fifth year to the little spot of sacred ground, 
where was to be inaugurated another era of 
Hellenic triumph. The Boeotian, rude of 
tongue and ruder of frame, brought thither 
by the hand children, who were one day to 
immortalize the glory of their country, and 
of the games they came to see ; to contest on 
that ground for the olive crown of manly 
power or genius, or among the great men 
of the earth for imperishable renown, under 
the names of Pindar, Epaminondas, Hesiod 
and Plutarch. Thither, too, came the 
Arcadian, his thoughts set to sweetest music, 
with which to charm the love of some fair 
Ionian, or make audible to the ear of the 
vulgar the exquisite harmony of his life ; the 
Spartan, in his gait the exemplar of a trained 
soldier, whose nursery was the gymnasium, 
and college the phalanx, splendid in figure 
and form, despising the men so mean as to 
require to know how to read, (a practice 
to which he had heard deformed and weak 
persons had recourse in their personal decrep- 
itude;) his manners quick, sharp and dry 

as an edge of tried steel, intent only on 
proving that Greece was greatest on earth, 
Sparta in Greece, and he in bis own 
Sparta; the urbane Athenian, martial in 
gait, yet with the easy, unassuming bearing 
of the citizen of that capital where god-like 
statues in every street awoke the admiration 
of the artist and the eloquent anger of the 
puritanical barbarian — he ooroes, too, with 
the pohsh of the Acropolis, and the learning 
of the schools, yet so supreme in manly 
beauty, that Corinthian dames may flaunt 
their charms beside him in vain, or sculptors 
fruitlessly essay to hken the transparent 
marble of Pentelicus to the plastic sym- 
metry and fairness of his form; and, yet 
again, skilled to combat with the Bceotian in 
the throwing of the quoit, with the Spartan 
in the gauntlet fence, or with the tragedian, 
or the orator of his native Athens, in essays 
of more intellectual strength. Thither, too^ 
came the Messenian, the effeminate Corin- 
thian, the scattered sons of Greece from the 
far-off isles of the .^ean, the semi-civilized 
Asiatic from the continent memorable by 
the fall of nium; all in truth who loved 
Hellas, admired her genius, or gloried in 
her triumphs, — the ridi and tiie poor, the 
judges, the legislators, the diskos players^ 
the boxers, the wrestlers, the statesmen, the 
logicians, the sophists, the orators, the poets^ 
whether of stone, of marble, or of music^ 
collecting together through roads lined with 
hospitahty, through scenery unsurpassed in 
grandeur and rest, from every quarter of the 
world whither the name or Uie glory <^ the 
Olympic games had gone, — came there to 
worship the Olympian Jove, to mix with 
Grecian brothers in friendly conyerse, and to 
record one other eternal epodi in Hellenic 

And so the games began. Poets such as 
Pindar sang, historians such as Herodotos and 
Plutarch recorded, statuaries such as FhidiSB 
and Praxiteles rendered into speaking mar- 
ble, the vicissitudes of the contest, and the 
glory of the victor. And to him who wift 
so supremely favored by the witnening 
gods with bravery and strength of frame, cir 
nobihty of genius, as to gain that simple 
crown of valueless ohve leaves, a naftionsl 
triumph was awarded. The Hellenio people 
led him, in an ovation befitting a conqueror, 
from state to state to his native dfy; and 
the citizens, hearing from without the paans 
which signalled the advent of their cham- 


« The WarkPi Fairy 


pion, smashed down the virgin walls which 
would never have yielded to a ruder inva- 
sion, that the man who so immortalized their 
dty might march in triumph over them- 
selves. His name was enrolled in the ranks 
of highest civic honor ; his statue graced the 
sacred grove of Jupiter in Elis, a monument 
of his triumph on the spot where he 
triumphed; his glory became the theme of 
odes more grand than rolling seas ; the 
loveliest maidens strewed his way with 
smiles and flowers ; and the old and the 
young, the learned and the illiterate of all 
Hellas counted thereafter from the day when 
Ohoroebus the Boeotian obtained the crown of 
the boxers in the Olympic games, or from 
the day when an untried poet, named 
Sophocles, was awarded the honors of vic- 
tory, to the astonishment and chagrin of 
Euripides, the hitherto immatched Athe- 

Such was the "Worid*s Fair" of the 
Classic days. The physical and the imagi- 
native, the strong and the beautiful, the 
great in man, and the sublime in nature, 
went hand in hand, giving to the organism 
of Uie grand ^e idealism of the fanciful, 
lighting up barbaric clay with that Prome- 
thean Sre which still casts its light from age 
to age, widening in effect and lessening in 
intensity even to our day, like the light 
flung from a distant beacon on the eternal 
sea. By such means, Greece acquired for 
herself mtories like Marathon, like Salamis, 
like Thermopylae, watchwords to our day, 
and beyond our day to the eternal night, of 
all that is august in liberty and noble in 
man — stores of learning, eloquence and 
beauty, poems as exquisitely chiselled as a 
statue, histories as perfect as a drama, and a 
name which, even some two thousand years 
^after her conquest by Rome, obtained from 
a shop-keeping and monarch-ridden Europe, 
(though accompanied with a Frankish King,) 
a nationality sacred alike from the Turk on 
the one hand, and the Scythian on the 
other. Small return for the Asiatic doom 
out of which she raised the European world, 
for the arts, and the philosophy, and the 
temples of music made monumr::ntal, and the 
lessons in heroic deed and intellectual victory, 
she bequeathed to the world which over- 
threw her greatness, but could not efface it ! 

But alas 1 the Hellenic ideal is no more. 
The prowess of manhood in the battle-field, 
the victories of the athlete in the arena, have 

descended, the one to the squad in the 
guard-room, the other to the brawlers of the 
tavern. Tragedians are no longer rewarded 
with the olive and immortality, but with 
publishers' payment by the line and star- 
vation in a garret. Historians no longer 
endeavor to give to present ages the genial 
pictures of the past, but estimate their writ- 
ings by the yard, are paid by any who 
wish their grandfather alluded to, and read 
by none. Happy civilization ! Statues no 
more entrance the artist, but are gambled 
for by merchants of hogs, and hucksters of 
cheeses, in an Art Union. Paintings are no 
longer rendered to save fair Andromedas 
from monsters of iniquity, but — such is the 
advanced state of our sits — are very seductive 
to boarding-school misses in an exhibition 
gallery. Hellas is indeed no more ! 

Yet if we cannot recreate the genios 
which animated, or restore to the modem 
world the splendor of the art which 
adorned the solemnities of the Achaian, we 
can at least appreciate their effects in his- 
tory, and apply the paraphernalia which 
accompanied them to uses, in our peculiar 
way, possibly more valuable to ourselves. 
The triumpl]^ and the sacrifices of Greece ; 
the worship of the Israelite around the Ark 
of the Covenant; that grander worship of 
later days which inspired men with courage 
to die in thankfulness and prayer, rent 
by the fangs and jaws of wild beasts, are 
equally obsolete, equally imsuited and un- 
suitable to our more rational, more liberal, 
and more refined times. We no longer 
rear men to die for their faith, even in dens 
of tigers, but to tremble at the sufferings of 
a chicken.* Our gods are no longer Greek 
gods, no longer the Idea Omnipotent raised 
up by the Nazarcne Republican for the lib- 
eration of Israel. Beauty, wit, power of 
sinew, power of genius have long since 
ceased to enthrall the sympathies, or direct 
the ambition of mankind ; have become as 

* The progress of Humanitarianism is singularly 
remarkable. We read the otlier day in the New- 
York IVibune a letter from some lamentable iodi- 
vidual calling on the editor of that journal to 
" rouse public opinion" against the frightful prac- 
tice of killing chickens on New- Year's Day by 
shooting them. Coleridge wrote once " A Sonnet to 
a Young Ass ;" and the next thing we expect to 
hear is the formation of a National Central Conven- 
tion to put down the ferocious practice, conmion to 
masons, of torturing bricks by beating their faces 


" The World's Fakr!* 


utterly foreign to our rules and habits of 
life, and our desiderata of happiness mun- 
dane or glory celestial, as the simple repub- 
licanism, and the rules of even-handed jus- 
tice dictated by the Saviour for the dehver- 
ance of Jerusalem, and the noiseless Ufe of 
mediaeval simplicity. The ages ivhen man- 
ly vigor and intellectual excellence were 
prized as a national glory, are gone for ever. 
The ages when to be truth-tellmg, honest in 
word and deed, was to be all most worthy 
of the aspirations of manhood, are buried in 
the rubbish of the childish and ignorant 
past. " Do unto others as you would they 
should do unto you," and " Love one another," 
have long given way before the wiser and 
more civilized maxims, " Buy in the cheapest 
market and sell in the dearest," and ^^ Make 
money out of everybody." The ages when 
the noblest specimens of our race combated 
before gods and men for the oUve of excel- 
lence in poetry and art, when the highest 
genius was held to be the most exalted 
conqueror, lie somewhere under the ruins of 
the Acropolis, and the dust of the Pantheon. 
The Hellenic blood poured out under Milti- 
ades for the hberty of the world, is no longer 
valuable, save as having manured a plain 
called Marathon, and as growing thereon 
corn, maize and rice for the ports of the 
Morea, and the markets of England. The 
glories of Minerva's sacred city, the adorn- 
ments of her Acropolis, the memory of the 
triumphs of her courage and her genius, 
have all passed from this meliorated world 
to the school-boy's satchel ; but still to men 
the figs of Attica bring the best prices in the 
London markets — 

** Age shakes Athena's tower, hui Hill the fig$ 

come on. 


* Byron says : 

** Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray MarattaMi.*' 

But Marathon is not spared ; the age could not 
afford to spare Marathon. It is excruciating to 
witness the delight with which that barbarian 
from the Isle of Tin, McCullocb, dilates on the 
peculiar memorabilia of Greece. This person 
seems to us in the attitude of tasting a fig, or 
currants, or com, dilating on the peculiar excel- 
lence of each sample, and throwing out an occa- 
sional reminiscence about the best suited to his 
palate, to the effect that it was grown in the blood 
of heroes. Hear the human ghoul — (Geog. Die., 
jA.rt Greece) : " Hellas is a better com country 
than the Morea." " Rice is cultivated in the 
plains of Marathon, Argos, <bc., and other marshy 
tracts along the coasts." (All the man has to 

The gods of the world are changed, but stiU 
we have gods, even the god Fig ; and whal 
were gods without worship ? What were 
the pecuUar ideals to which we look for hap- 
piness here and rewards hereafter, in the 
probate ofiSce and in heaven, unless we paid 
them adoration ? Nay, might not the Gcnn* 
mercial Jupiter blight our fairest enter* 
prises, and cleave with thunder the heit 
arranged railway schemes, frighting the 
** bulk " of 'Change to madness, and burn- 
ing the very hide off the " bears," if we 
did not appease him with lofty cere- 
monies, and costly hecatombs in b^le and 
buUion? Besides, have not we of the 
modem world had a city for long years sa- 
cred to the Commercial Jove, whither the 

say about Marathon is, that it is one of other 
marshy tracts, good for rice t) And again, the cbu- 
sic memories attached to the hills of Greece an 
thus de&cribed : " The hills of Greece — are admira- 
bly adapted for the vine." " The valley of Helicon," 
he tells U9, produces good wines, out of ** little 
body,** which are ruined for the English palate 
from the/a«^ of their being made precisely as tlie 
gods drank them in the clouds three thouaand 
years ago. ** Cotton of good quality is grown in 
Messenia, Laconia, . . . hut enpeeially in the plain 
of Argos, , . . Tubacco in Bceotia, . . . figs m At- 
tica (<o famoun in antiquity)." The difference 
between anci^ nt genius as illustrated by Byron, 
and modem British animalism, is strikioglv ex- 
hibited by two passages. The inspired pilgrim 
writes : — 

" Yet are thy skies as blue, tbj crags as wild. 

Sweet are thy groyea, and Terdani are ibj fields; 

Tbine olive ripe as when Biioerva smiled. 

And still bis honeyed wealth Hynattusyialdii. 

There tb« blithe bee bis fragrant fortreea bnflds— 

The free-bom wanderer of the mountain air; 

Apollo still thy long, long sammer gilds ; 

Still in bis beam Mendeli's marblea gtare. 
Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Matnra sUU is fair.** 

And yet, with this extract before him in hit 
book, this English taster of illnstrioas memoriei^ 
and purveyor-general to the London niftrkel^ 

writes, not 

*' Thine oUre ripe as when MlncrTa saa&ed,'' 

but, ** The olive oil of Greece would be good, if 
well prepared ;" and again, on the honey-bee ef 
Hymettus : *' Honey ie a highly inmortant pr^ 
duct; that of Attica, and especiaUy of Moont 
Hymettus, is now, as of old^ the best in Europe. 
It is traw^parent, and has a delicious perfwmtT 
The man looks even upon his father's aonl as a 
product, and pokes his nose into Mount Hymettm^ 
to test its smell, before he will accord it any fi^ 
vor. His study of Homer, and his admiratioQ 
of Anacreon. are limited to bis sensualities, and 
regulated by his tongoe or his smell, just as if be 
were in a dram-shop, or buying caeeso at hit 
grocer's. Happy civilijsatiQn I 



« The Worlds 8 Fair?* 


<ye8 of all the feitliful in stock have been 
fervently bent; whence the successful opera- 
tor has taken his grand inspiration ; and 
whither thousands on thousands of the 
Cuthful, desiring to receive approving aus- 
pices on their holy work, and attain com- 
mercial prosperity in an Elysium of ledgers, 
have sent endless offerings and tributes ? 
Are there not there, too, altars sacred to 
the worship of this Jove, on which are 
poured out, day after day, piles on piles of 
blessed gold, of heavenly bills of lading, 
of truly celestial stock, and railway de- 
bentures — metest offering for this Omnip- 
otent ? Nav, have we not therein a college 
of vstes, au^rs, higi. priest., with growing 
alumni and devout acolytes, "trying their 
'prentice hand on 'Change f have we not 
ramifications of these metallic pastors extend- 
ing thence throughout the earth to its limits, 
converting to their worship the elect of dis- 
tant nations, the zamindar of India, the man- 
darin of Canton, the landlord of Ireland, and 
the " free-trader^ of the United States ; en- 
thralling whole peoples and territories, de- 
riving thereout voluntary offerings of illim- 
itable wealth, and bestowing in lieu thereof 
canctimonious cant of the most world-wide 
benevolence ; bales of Bibles, labelled " Word 
of God ;'' Piety by the yard, labelled 
^ Christian Civilization ;" and Holy Cottons 
and Evangelical Rum ; affording, too, loans 
of life to poor old monarchies, and to de- 
serving though unfortunate brother super- 
fititiona, whether it be the miserable old 
Ebipsburgh who made all his money by 
marrying, and spent it all as easily as he 
acquired it ; or the head of the obsolete 
Christian Church, who, though the last 
relic of a very old and decrepit superstition, 
still evokes from the worshippers of Jove 
Commercialis, that "fellow-feeling" which 
** makes us wondrous kind," inasmuch as 
he too had his great god of Cant once, and 
his vates, and his augurs, and his thunders, 
and his sacred ovatory offerings, and his 
hymns of glory and triumph, by which, de- 
crepit as he is, he too once ruled the world ? 
Have we not this priesthood, levelling even, 
when the Sacred College decrees it for the 
propagation of faith in Dry-goods, in the 
communion of stock, and in the salvation of 
credit to come, dynasties after dynasties, 
whether they sit at the feet of the Him- 
ali^ah, on the throne of Imperial France, or 
OD that of the Prussian Frederic ; and tear- 

ing out and sacrificing on the altar of " en- 
lightened commerce, with sacred odes to 
" peace, and law, and order," fthe awe-in- 
spiring Parcae presiding over tne destinies 
of 'Change,) republic after republic, whether 
it shows its hydra heads within the walls of 
Romulus, or among the mountain fires of 
Guatemala ; whether it be where the historic 
genius of a dead democracy still outlives and 
sanctifies an effete dominion, or where still old 
foolish mother Terra sends up her incense 
burnings to the antique gods of the primeval 
universe? Have we not, we say, already all 
the material necessary, all the paraphernalia 
on hand, all the populJar and enduring faith 
requisite to the worship of this Jupiter Coni- 
mercialis — a city sacred to him ; altars ded- 
icated to his offerings; faith illimitable; 
books of prayer called ledgers; forms of 
invocation which every bank clerk or small 
presiding vates, with his pile of divine attri- 
butes shining, as if thrown by an almighty 
and effiilgent hand, before him, will hand 
you through a slit in his Dodonean seat, 
and to which you must conform before the 
dread oracle will vouchsafe to the eager lis- 
tener a hoarse monosyllabic answer ? Nay, 
have we not manifold catechisms, teeming 
with curt maxim and long philosophy, and 
tracing with acute distinctness the laws by 
which the great divinity can be propitiated, 
written by the pens of inspired vates and 
devout augurs, for all classes, and ages, 
and sexes, from Franklin's first catechism 
for the infant miser, to Ricardo's elaborate 
philosophy, intelligible only to the initi- 
ated priest, when he has entered his pro- 
bationary term in the Holy Metallic Order? 
Have we not colleges vieing with those of 
the Capitol, or the academic groves, or the 
Roman Propaganda ; hierarchs and orders 
of priests duly arranged, from his eminence 
Cardinal Rothschild — the tniest cardinal that 
has ever been, for on him hinge the affairs 
of men — to the reverend swindler who 
charged us thirty cents for changing our 
last five-dollar bill in Wall street^ the other 
day ? Nay, have we not vestal virgins ded- 
icated to continency while they cannot help 
it, to teaching, and to the preservation of 
the sacred fire, arranged too in order, from 
the high priestess Harriet Martineau, to the 
amiable spinsters of " never more than five- 
and-twenty," who religiously deposit their 
little annuities in the great Bank of Jupiter 
Commercialis, and fervently draw the inter- 

''Tke WoMi FUtr 

-ys9^ Have we nol an thflte, and had e?er 
religion more f Is there not throaghout the 
world a Faith, a belief paramount to reason, 
in this worship of the Omnipotent Banker, 
such as no religion ever possessed f Nay, 
give but one small coin into the hands of a 
starving wretch, and tell him that it is a 
sterling blessing vouchsafed to him by the 
merci^Lil Deity who liveth enthroned in the' 
hearts of men and shopkeepers, and does 
not the fervent prayer rise audibly to his 
lips ; does he not bow low, and raise his eyes 
in thankfulness aloft as he utters it, ^ Venite^ 
adaremu9 ! " The worship of Jupiter Com- 
mercialis is an incontestable nct^ wide- 
spread, heartfelt, enduring, and why there- 
fore shall we not adore? It is folly to 
abstain fr(Mn doing ; it is cowardice to ab- 
stain from doing openly ; it is almost defy- 
ing the thunders of the Great Divinity him- 
self to neglect doing openly and before the 
world to Uis praise, that which we do every 
hour, more or less in secret, for our own. 
Then, Venite, adoremus / VeniU! 

Such are the pious and virtuous senti- 
ments which have lately animated the &ith- 
fol in stock. Beauty, Liberty, and Heroism 
were once beUeved in and worshipped. 
Power civic and Glory national had tneir 
churches and their devotees. Justice and 
Love of Good, or, as the Christians said, 
God, had formerly their adorers too. But 
all these have passed and are no more. 
Peace be with them. Bequieicant, requies- 
cant / Amen / And for us of the nineteentii 
century, " in the first year of its second halfj" 
adoring in our hearts Dry-goods; blessed 
with a knowledge of the eternal truth that 
is in Leather and Cutlery ; with our whole 
souls bound up in Money ; firmly believing 
in the one and indivisible CatnoHc creed 
"Free-trade," as revealed by the inspired 
Malthus, and the truly pious Walker — ^for us, 
with all tliis, shall there be no church para- 
phernalia founded ; shall there be no great 
caucus of believers, no public and memora- 
ble exhibition of worship? Forbid it, ye 
Powers of Stock ; ye Seraphim who preside 
over the Banks ; ye angehc Gabriels, who 
carry notices of bilb due I It could not be. 
And accordingly, fully appreciating the 
grandeur of the solemnities due to the Cot- 
ton Jupiter, and the Sheffield Minerva, with 
her shield and spear stamped ^^ Best Cast 
Steel," as we read on our best knives and 
forks, (best, being English,) there baa gone 

forth hem fte AetopofmfOt OonbaSl^ the 
sacred city, a mandi^ to all the oonieii of 
the earth which boyt or ouffht to hftj Brit- 
ish manuftkctures, and to the iBtermecfiate 
stations within reach of the panting MereiineB 
who obey the nod of the Jove Connercialis^ 
(in the holy mjihoiogy entitled "^H. B. IL 
K. M. Steamshipa,'') and to all otbeiB who 
may hear about it, ordering the fieflifiil in 
Bullion, Bale^ Bill, and Britain, to anocmble 
on a stated day of this year of oar lata God, 
(^ who did not read his eonntryraan Bicai^ 
do,") not in ihe sacred olive groyes by th» 
Peneus river, but on the mod banks of the 
Thames^ there to inaugorate the fint dym- 
piad of British ** Free^rade" and Umversd ^ 
Humbug, and celebrate the first grand eihi- 
bition of British Supremacy and indnstxiQitti 
Toadyism of all nations. Not with tlia 
thunders of the Olyminan Jove has this mafr* 
date gone forth, but under ampioea more Mh 
gust and earth-shaking — ^moving the kinga 
and peoples of distant empires to obeffieDce— 
moving all kinss and ^ ambaasadore of fiw^ 
eign powers," the Sultan in Turkey, the Tbw 
in Russia, the Pacha in £f^ypt, ^ littla 
Queen in Portugal, and their nnnioiiB aad 
messengers everywhere — amoving even Ilia 
ambassador of the United Statea to tha 
adoration of Toadyism, and the Preadenl 
of the United Statea (who cannoi gdi lo> 
send ship-loads of offerings to the aaoea at* 
tar of '^Anglo-Sason" Supremacy, and lar 
dui^oua Toadyism of all nalioBa,and6f lua 
own the first — moving aH daaaea of mea, aB^ 
forms of building, all pow«n of eksAhi ant 
iron, and cant, the world over. Terrible^ ia- 
deed, to the quiet adoring soul are tiba aw^ 
pices under whidi this universal order ia 
vouchsafed to the world — it bean the aania 
of Albert I He uttered it, and truly haa. 
''the earth trembled at his nod!" Wl^ 
in the sacred name of Humbug shouU m 
wonder at the foul superstition vAadi watk 
have influenced men, when they iforshogMdiL 
the cow Isis, and the bull Onria f Wkf- 
should we stand in amass, hearing how P#? 
nic women gave their new-bom bahea f6 Aaf : 
burning lap of the idol Satnm, or hovr ittnK 
flung their bodies in adoration to ^eimtlki Mi 
be crushed beneath the wheek of the-HiBdaai i 
Yaganat S Such wonder and dread 
may befit children, but we^ m^ of tba 
teenth century, and " in the fint year of ttn^ 
second half of it|^ (astonishing and M^^ 
beneficent fiictQ know that in than fAxirP^ 

« n$ WcrUTi iWr » 


v&icii tti It little 

r^gvdwHl Tor; 
then » fldmetU ^ i eii< ^ e ana 
Mod. Bren hr the worship of ] imbo 
JvBlNr; Ibr the devont neffro piousl r best- 
ir hk bones and uttering his heavei j dk- 
eorii ta stay the noise of the thunder-dap, 
«e have a feeling of reverence and brotheny 
npecL Do we^ and higher than we, the 
flowtypes of modem civilization, to whom 
wb Mm a ieft-handed affinity, do wer not 
vonlup ^Fat-pigr Have we not seen in 
Ike Lamden Time$ magnificent sermons to 
fte fiulhftd in praise of *" FatK)x r Nay, have 
wtaotseen in theZoiufoa Illustrated News, 
(fkm iUmiiinated vade-micum or pions pray- 
erbook of Britkh believers, sacred to the 

of the English gin-shop and the 
flnnkey)— have we not seen 
labelled "^ Carting in Fat-pig,*' and 
alfiiig Fat^xz/' engraved representations 
MiiitL Batpiahmen and thin foreigners stand- 
i^ ia aooradoiT about a movable tabema- 
As, or cart, wherein appeared to be some 
■bdMNie and' unfortunate animal, intended 
wA far oadubition and then for ihx^ adoring 
Mombo Jumbo, Phallos, Osiris, the 

ivpentitioD, judged by boyish brains, 

erer afflicted the world, is, in our 
bumble opinion, not inferior to this. To the 
Egyptian the Bull was the representative, 
or tan<i^ible and visible sign of a grand ideal 
beyond his fathoming ; to the Hindoo, 
Juggernaut Is the outward covering of a 
great spirit who holds the destinies of the 
Ifindoo race in his right hand, and can lib- 
crate their country. In worehipping their 
idr^b nonr* of these obey a sensual appetite; 
none of them place the limit of their rever- 
fue? in the animal or the wood before them ; 
sU look up to and worship, through the idol, 
•ome ideal whose idealism they cannot real- 
i»», and who% immensity they cannot cora- 
pri4iend. In all tliese devotions there is a 
grand infinity, one attribute at all events of 
Divine Majesty. But the Englishman wor- 
■hips •* Fat-pig" as fat pig, to cat him ; be- 
Und the plethoric obesity of the brute, or 
■bofe it, thrre is nothing — no deity outside 
of «• Fat-pig" for him. lie pokes his knuckles 
into the greasy attributes of his divinity, and 
pravs with a chuckling stomach for the time 
«f roastinir and sacrifice. God or no God 
there may be — ^human beings may be lean, 
nd may perish of want — polemics may 
iifiie about the spiritual comforts of another 

world, and wild enthunastB iodutee in yn-> 
ions of liberty and greatness in mis ; bat' 
for him, the paragon man of the Anglo* 
Saxon fiunily, the god ''Fat-pig" is pig 
fat ; he feels it, he sees it, and he will eat it. 
And so he adores it ; has little medals and 
pictures of his deity struck cff^ hangs them 
over his hed-side, prays to them, and bida 
the world look on and adore too. 

Such is the Englishman's religion — ^the 
religion of the head of the ^ great Anglo* 
Saxon fiEunily ;" and some people hearing it 
for the first time are moved to increduuty 
or disgust But what think you if^ instead 
of worshipping the obese brute alone, he 
called on the whole world to worship it w;ith 
him, and it obeyed? In the Englishman's 
mythology, though god ''Fat^pig" stands 
high, yet he standeth not alone. The de- 
ity Lai^ Cabbage-head, Big Onion, Strong 
Cloth, Seat Cast Steel Knife, accompany him 
and receive equal reverence. Anything and 
everything which Fat-pig can be converted 
into, whicli can he begotten of Fat-pig, sit 
by His side enthroned. Instead of the ma- 
terial product. Bacon, laige classes of £ng> 
lishmea prefer as their special guardian deity 
the god ^ Dry-goods ;" other hu^ classes tbA 
god "Hardware;" and the worship of these 
has been more transcendental of late years 
than that afforded to " God Pig," by reason 
of the fact that the virtues of the latter deity 
had for some time ceased to " control the 
market" — the Englishman's test for the rel' 
ative virtues of his deities being their power 
of giving money, bringing trade, promoting 
exports, and all the deities forming, as is the 
case with all mythologies, the individualized 
attributes of one great idol, the Jupiter Com- 
mercialis enthroned on Cornhill. The vir- 
tues of the gods " Dry-goods" and " Hard- 
ware" have for long years stood the highest, 
but of late have been found to decline, in- 
asmuch as, though they subjugated, made 
naked, and cut to pieces some hundreds of 
millions of Ilindostanese, and divers hun- 
dred millions of other nations, they were 
not efficient to muffle the mouths of Ger- 
man madmen squalling for Liberty, nor to 
cut the throats of certain anarchists in 
France, diabolically endeavoring to establi^ 
a decent and not a British socialism among 
themselves. Here the virtues of '* Dry- 
goods" and " Hardware" wore found utterly 
ineffectual, and it was coasidered, after grave 
and reverent discussiou among the augura 

104 "^The WorW^% Fwrr Kk 

and vates of the Sacred College, that these 
all-powerful deities were offended, because 
BU&cient worship was not given them. Ac- 
cordingly, the vates having suggested the 

hierarchy, abolition devotees, and aagim of 
Univei*sal Benevolence throu^out even Be- 
publican America. The kings and lictora 
and magistrates of the elder regime bowed 

matter to the son of a German, interested , too before him, and uttered hmnamtarian 
in putting down all squallers in Saxe-Gotha, hallelujahs in his praise. £mperors ordered 
Coburg, and the neighborhood, that worthy everywhere their serfs to obey it, kin^ their 
issued forth his mandate as above cited. In- ' subjects. Presidents of France the nonde- 
stant, the happy instrument selected by the script semi-citizen, semi-serf indiyiduals 
inspired augurs, to give forth to the mlsera- } under their rule, and Presidents of Amer- 
ble earth their revelation of a new Olympiad, ica — but of tiiem anon. Ambassadara, 
or nineteenth century " Pass-over," became, , waited upon the thrice august Albert^ 
from a mere cipher, the chosen arch-high- and implored him to dictate to them the 
priest, or high-highest augur of the Jupiter rules of the ceremonies, the forms of prayer, 
Commercialis which rules the Anglo-Saxon . the names of the requisite offerings of pro- 
monarchy. ^^ In the name of the great Ju- pitiation. And one Ambassador, and he, too> 
pit6r Cornhillensis," he said, " and of the the representative of a nation which has the 
most omnipotent deities, the god Dry-goods general good character of abhorrii^ cant 
and the god Hardware, we order and com- and all humbug, of standing up on its own 
mand all nations, and by these presents all hook, and maintaining its own independence 
nations of the earth are ordered and com- as a nation, has gone clean mad since the 
manded, to hearken and obey us. Prophet event. He has established a button-hoie 
Albert We, the great English nation, to connection with the family of which the 
appease the gods Dry Goods and Hardware, ■ august Albert is a member by maniage ; and 
will set up in costly temples of glass and so this poor supposititious American " Anglo- 
filligree, the choicest representations of the Saxon " finds himself happily related to the 
gods aforesaid, and we will worship them ; " rascalliest, sweetest young Prince," and 
and all ye of the earth, ye of Europe, ye ol by consequence deeply interested by family 
India, ye of America, ye of Cham Tartary ties in the worship of Fat-pig, and the other 
and Trincoraalee, stop your proper business, divinities of Commercial religion. " We are 
and bring your Dry-goods effigies and your all one and the same," he cries day after day ; 
Hardware representations here to our temple, " we offended you once, but we are sorry for 
and worship them too ; or, if you have none, it — ^you were angry with us, but forgive us. 
come instantly and worship ours, that the Have not we Fat-pig — ^have we not too 
Deities may be appeased, and you may re- little representations of the god Diy-goods, 
turn blessed from the devotion," Such and the god Hardware, and do we not both 
was the mandate. Instant, the hundred worship them in the same Anglo-Saxon 
tongues of the pious press of England words, Pig, and Fat, and Dry, and Goods, 
poured fourth acclamations the most voluble and Hard, and Ware ; and are we not 
in praise of Augur Albert No extremely , therefore brothers, and won't you forgire 
pious trading principles had they seen in Us ? Oh, do ! " 

him before, nor any very exemplary political | Accordingly this great Olympiad of the 
dodging, but this single act revealed to them nineteenth century is to be — as why should 
the innate splendor of his genius, his true it not \ All nations have obeyed the man-^ 
devotion to the " interests of British com- date of German Albert, and will obey it. 
merce," and his ardent enthusiasm for the ' The sacred mud banks of the Thames have 
progress of his immaculate species, shop- 1 been allotted for the ceremonies of worship ; 
keeping aristocracy. The laudatory prayers ' hot-house Temples, not of Pentelip marble, 
for his success, which filled the columns of but of " the cheapest English glass," are raia* 
the pious London newspapers, were re-echoed ing high their filigree crests to push t^e 
from nation to nation, and, having been ta- \ exotic idea to a precocious bloom ; grounds, 
ken up by the organs of the affiliated liier- , not of Elis, of holy Elis, but of oertmn Cock- 
archy of 'Change, passed from sea to sea, : ney parks in London brickdom, within sight, 

<jrossed even the mighty ocean of the Her 
ring Poud, and enthroned themselves in the 

not of the grove of Jupiter, but of the iron* 
shuttered windows of Carlton House — un- 

hearts of the reverend merchants, free-trade happy parks, wherein a few weasv^ed, veg^ 


** The WarUTs Fair."^ 


titing prisoners rear their dirty, smoke-cov- 
ered heads into the drawing-room windows 
of tawdry Duchesses and antique spinsters of 
({nalily — have been assiprned as spots to be- 
come to the historian of after ages ^^ haunted, 
hdy ground." Augur Albert, with the as- 
mtanoc of divers burly masons and enthu- 
siastic carpenters, has laid the first pebble in 
the foundation of the architectural humbui;, 
to which thf^ name of '* Crystal Palace " has 
been accorded — prints have been drawn 
of him taking oft' his august hat — cheers 
hav« n^soundud — wines have been poured 
in endhss libiition — loan beggars have come 
on to see — and even " Fat-pig '' has brought 
his troops of worshippers, marshalled by 
** Fat-pig*" priest Soyer, and attendants.* It 
will be a trulv entrancing and delicious 
sight, this collected exhibition of the Toady- 
ism of all nations! Orders of c^^remonies 
have b«'eii lixed — prayers formed and re- 
cited — c..»\irs4^s of foasts announced and ])re- 
pan'd — and the following is a specimen of the 
litany as jtublished in the London Times of 
the 31?-t of Novembt^r last, which it has 
been detrrmined to recite through the august 
mouth of the illastrioas vatcs, Albert, on the 
occasion — the responses to be given by his 
Ftidiful-iii-Stock Excellency, Abbott Law- 
r-no", li 'preventative of tho Model Kopub- 


*• <. >iniiip« ►triit Jupitt-r (Jommorcialis, grant 

* T\ir f.illnwini,' nf»tt'. i-« jti-:t as apnlirablo 1ut«? 
l» r.-.vv. },i r-* I'l-'i'. \Vi* (Mit tin; liij^ljlv dramatic 
a-.! !'i* I r •■•.*. :n;jj rnonrrau from ii retvnt 15riti>li 

M iN-^ii-.R DiNivc Hail Kon TfiKCrfiKAT Exinr.i- 
*^*s ..> l-.'/l — That iiii]«'l"aliL::il»lt' L:»-niii.-*, S<»v<'r, 

J-- I'T f. :i'lit!iiiilty in connfction wiili llu'oxhi- 

?=:■ -. •>'. l-.'il. Mini nifh lii-^ii-ual (MXTj^y,!)!' lias sot 
V. '-f.,:*' ul^.'it j»r"vi«liiJi; tin* propiT rcnn'dy. It 
'<■.*■,':.■ 1 t«i Ijjrn. in (••rivrrsiition with Mr. Koc-ncy, 
•■'" 'K- M'-fiM-int"" niiiiiii; llouMi-; hiMC, that, as thi» 
T:-':-"*r i-\!.if/iriiiri Wduhl U' aiti-nih'fl hy a inoii- 
•'^ 7 Tnw ij. till- iii'lividual-* »»f which would luitiirallv 
)r-r,.-T;.. J.,, ii-{|,,ii-K liiHi'Tv. it would b<» nocc'^'-arv 
t' iu..\i> -».Mi<' <'X?riordin;irv provi.-<i(»n for th<;ir 
«■;-•■ I; li: I- A Fill iii^ttT riiii^iiu! is tlnTrfon* to he os- 
tar.; -hs'i Ky M Siiy»r ina.'->»Kiatioi) with Mr. Fonu'v, 
1.'; 1 : .- :.-'«T ihiiiiii^'lialUcapalilo t»('aci'oiiim(;datii)L( 
•i 'i.'i -,i'. ! at a ti ■ ••. an* to \)v con^'tructcd and 
i* : • I'-i -f;iiifl\ -»:pplii'd. hy \\<-ll drilled rcLriiiH-nt-* 
■f K.i'f, r-. \M'M viarjd«. of i-vcry «!• .sfiiption. 'I'his 
i* a ^r. i' pri'pit. iirid its rxt-cutiori will aild ario- 
•-■,• r 'a f, i. r mu\ arir^tlur |df'aMirf tn the LMi-at cx- 
t '■ '■■ f . I», l"fd. wi->hall not Im* <«nrpri"<« d if Sovt-r 
ifk : r.-: • \ ".- di'iin'.: hall< Jm* proiionnred tin* nio^t 
• »'r. ■ r.l n ir\. si-s thi'V will a-^^'urrdly prove the 
i^'.''. a.luiiM^', part of ihc exhibiiiou. 

us fixity in stocks I Divine Dry-goods, 
have mercy on us! Iloly Hardware, pro- 
tect us from all Republicanism ! Bright 
Knife of Sheffield, keep down American 
competition! Pillar of Manchester Cloth, 
civilize China ! Adorable Leather, flog all 
Hungarians, Chartists, Irish, and Socialists I 
Star of Shawl-patterns, whip the French 1 
God of Free Trade, hood-wink everybody 
and give us the monopoly of the Industry 
of all nations! God Fat-pig, be FatP' — 
Hero Mr. Abbott Lawrence calls out " beans" 
with his pork, — Mr. Soyer protests ho never 
heard of so vulgar and vilely Yankee a dlsli, 
and the Litany begins again. * * * 
[And hero we are obliged to choke off" the 

first flight of our irreverent contributor.] 
« « « « * 

Alas ! (we permit our contributor to con- 
tinue,) wo have fallen upon a world truly 
miserable, and about the most miserable 
fact our pet nineteenth century has yet wit- 
nessed, is this very " World's Fair.'* The 
downfall of Napoleon ; the parcelling out of 
Europe among a band of thieves ; a Repub- 
lic thrice existent in France, and thrice vis- 
ionary ; the desolation of Hungary ; the 
famines in Ireland; the galvanization uf tlie 
dead old Catholic Church, by ** restoring^' a 
poor old man to a temporary and grimly 
facetious existence ; the advoiit of ** the 
Swedish Ni^litiiiiralts" and tlie victorious 
march of Harnuni from city to city, and 
tVoni State to State of the Western Wt>rld ; 
tin; earth <|uaken hy Kochester kiioekings ; 
the popular supeistition in the trund faith 
and tine speeches (>f a Jhitish aiii]iassadi>r; 
all thes(; are, facts indicative of tln^ most 
striking characi<Ti<tics of mir a;^o — tin* r»'V- 
erenc«* of wr<in<^, the insen^ihilitv to ins- 
tict\ tln^ awe of power, the wor>hi[» t>f un- 
varnished himd)Ug, and the paramount 
belief in talMdiood, which coiistitiU<- the ho- 
niogen«'ou-^ philosophy of which its hi-tnry 
is a grand exanijde. ihit tin* " \V«)rKr^ 
Fair'' «*xliil.)its more tlian any of thcs^* etiri- 
osities, and prohahly more than tin* \\lnd«3 
eolloetion in a him]>, tin* con-eion>« w^-akin-ss, 
tin* nliance <»n expulifiit iiothiiiL:<, tin* laek 
of fore>i(rlit, an»l the nttrr imlxfiliiv of 
brain of those who hv an untoward fat** aro 
still p<'rmilt<'d t(> i^t>\erii the In'id of liaman- 
itv; ami <'\hihits in a ^tiil stron^rr liiiht, 
p«'rhai "^^ ^''*" ilhinitahh' cr* <hdltv. iii:n li« V(*4( 
hy oin' gloam of n*a>nn, ami tin- s« rvil«> 
obedience, unniitigat* d by on*.* syr.'pe-ni uV 


" 2%$ WarkPs Fair!* 


inquiring thought, of the herd who are gov- 
erned. All our republicanism, all our theo- 
ries of human progress, all the struggles for 
the independence and equality of nations 
which for the last fifty years have en- 
liven od the world, have brought us at last 
to this, — that between Asiatic fatalism and 
nineteenth century philosophy, whether as 
professed here or in Europe, there is but 
slight difference indeed. " Believe all things 
thou art told ; go whithersoever thou art 
bidden ; ob.?y the behests of any who please 
to order thee, provided their mandates are 
given in tlie duo formulas of cant, from the 
self-constituted chairs of * peace, and law, 
and order/ in the possession of the * pow- 
ers that be,' whether these powers should 
rightly hz or not," are maxims common to 
both. A single order has gone forth from 
London ; and all classes of men, in whatso- 
ever nation they may have heard it, hasten 
to give to it loyal obedience. The Lyonnese 
manufacturer of silks, and the Lowell man- 
ufacturer of broadcloth ; the Uindoo tailor, 
who, in making new breeches of the Euro- 
pean cut, inserts the rents, and the darns, and 
the patches of the old garment, and the 
original and music-loving hatter of New- 
York; the artisan who has droned his life 
away in some German garret in the discov- 
ery of perpetual motion, and the maker 
of univereal giis in Yankee land; — all, 
charmed by this British order, with eyes 
fixed on the monster London, hurry on, with 
incessant wings, into his very maw. Here 
indeed is a problem of world-wide scope, 
more curious than Paino's gas or the Roch- 
ester knxkings, which, above all others, 
need 5 solving : By what asphyxiating power 
have the pride and individual existence and 
popular coliesiveness of distant nations been 
thus deadc^ned, and the thoughts, and 
hopes, and ambitions of the most thought- 
ful, hopeful, and ambitious of their several 
peoples, be^'n universally concentrated on 
** British public opinion," and a Cockney 
j)ark on the mud-banks of the Anglo-Saxon 
Acheron ? IIow comes this univereal power 
to be centred in the head of a German ad- 
venturer, not rem-.irkable for any great ex- 
ploit, for genius, or other attributes fixing the 
admiration of men; not even remarkable 
for the faculty of charlatanism, by which 
crowds of wondering humanity have been 
brought together, the possession of which 
hsA immortalized a Cagliostro and a Bar- 

num ? How oomes it that this age is ex* 
pressly The Age of the Show-Box; that 
after innumerable centuries of probationary 
humanity; after the creation and the test 
of innumerable philosophies ; after the wor- 
ship and the destruction of churches beyond 
counting ; after the trial of every possible spe- 
cies of government and social discipline, we 
have, in the almost six thousandth year of the 
world, according to Moses, lit upon the pan- 
acea for all our ills, fallen by gradual steps 
upon the philosopher's stone, attained a per- 
fect comprehension of the f o xaxoy in life in- 
tellectual, aesthetical or physical, in govern- 
ments, socialities, and domestic occupations ; 
perfected the crowning desideratum of scien- 
tific discovery and artistic invention, and 
found it to be merely Punch and Judy, the 
Pandean Pipes and the Big Drum — ^merely 
the rdle of the mountebank, of the ground 
and lofty tumbler, and of the modem Ish- 
mael, who wanders from village to village 
with his peep-show on his back ? That one 
class of society, or one nation of men should 
reduce their extravaofant ideals to this absurd 
conclusion, might produce contempt in sober 
and unhood winked humanity ; but it is 
worthy of the consideration of the wisest, 
when it affects all nations and men alike, 
when it supremely influences, not only vola- 
tile Celts, but phlegmatic Dutch and Anglo- 
Saxons, and even the schooled and inde- 
pendent Republicans of the United States. 
We venture to say that if a President, 
uncalled on by the people, and without l^al 
authority, should issue a patent or other 
order to hold, in some central spot of this 
continent, an universal exhibition of all the 
productions of its several States, the several 
States would rebel against such presumption; 
the people would declaim against any at- 
tempt so centralizing ; and the unlucky Pre- 
sidant would meet, however right his inten- 
tions might be, not with the productions of 
the universal industry, but of the universal 
scorn of the nation. Men would say, We 
have other thinn^s to mind than a rare»-x 
show ; Constitutionalists would hint there^ 
after that the Chief Ma<ristrate of the Re* . 
public should be qualified for the White 
House by indoctrination in the practices of - 
Barnum ; manufacturers would say, If jcffk 
want to buy, buy — but we are not to break 
up our machinery and our trade orders to 
gratify your capricious vanity with a show ; 
and democrats would very justly respondt 


" The World's Fair."^ 


What hftTe we to do with this State or that ? 
We mind our own afiairs, let the rest do the 
itme. But here an order has heen issued 
by a foreign prince, and merely a prince by 
eoortesy, to centralize the whole world upon 
London, and Presidents and people give to 
that foreign order implicit obedience. Hith- 
erto, indeed, we all knew that " sets " of pre- 
tentious " respectability," and " circles " of 
questionable republicanism, had a languish- 
ing and silent existence in our chief cities, 
wiioee members still paid to England the 
wne reverence as the ante-revolutionary 
Tories were boastful of giving to her ; who 
rtill looked to her, and not to America, as their 
"Anglo-Saxon mother," as the land over- 
flowing with the milk of fashion and the 
koney of etiquette, as the land whose social 
Older and habits of domineering insolence 
on the one hand, and abject servility on the 
other, were alone worthy of admiration — as 
the land of liveried flunkeys and heraldic 
panels, of court dresses and bow-scraping le- 
gitimacy, as the fountain head of fashionable 
Bovf b, and the Elysium wherein are riches 
vithout labor, rank without requisite vir- 
tues, working men without wealth, and lower 
danes without independence ; but their dis- 
creet silence and paucity of numbers in- 
•ured them unnoticed safety in contempt. 
" Kr!irli>h litcratun%" cheap republications of 
^•^lami^' nuvels, whose heroes aiul heroines 
jr.- proud yoniii^ scions of nohh? houses, or 
f:»uhtul n\h\ ol>0(lient servants of the same ; 
:ii** -^y^t^-inatic in<loctrination of a pretended 
an-l lai^' phiK)*iopliy whose head is I^nidon, 
:f"d * '..iiiineree, and relipon Free Trade ; j 
tli*^- and other Anglican inlhiences have j 
hr.»ii/}it us to that pfiss, that now " in j 
th- Ho»nd half of the nineteenth century; 


ufid in the first year of the same," an at- 
i»Tn[t i-i made to dra*^ the American arti- 
Nin acr.»!ss the Atlantic, that he may ]>ul>- 
li'ly r*<-.'iv«* j»ro[>er lessons in his handicraft, 
uh;if«\'T it may l>e, trom the "genius of 
Kfjjl.iijd." and learn a just resj)ect for 
Uiri»r:<-s arid kingly toggery, and for tin* 
if-w-j-aw hpK-ndor and the jKjacock attri- 
h\iU-^ tiit^lu'd by arist<xirat8 from the labor 
if;-: lif*- "(f an unfortunate and ignorant jsro- 
ri*-; and it h;us been |H*rfcctly successful. 
Thr- 11:^11 '/Ut tho American lVe^s not a sin- 
^'l.' \4iic.* has iK'cn raised againi*t it. " l)«ino- 
crat*." Nffgttful of their former Uejiublican 
pr.f.--^^i<,ijs, and <levotedonly to the triumph 
uf tiitir j»rincii>les of ** Free Trade," or 

British trade, have yielded to it a willing obe- 
dience, — and Whigs, whose cardinal profes- 
sion is that every country should clothe itself 
by its own industry, and that therefore, what- 
ever England's manufactures may be, they are 
nothing to us, have provided funds, and com- 
mittees, and ships of war, to carry out the 
design. The commercial, manufactural, and 
political ideas of the United States, are now 
centralized on London. We are gravely told 
that the object of every American artisan 
should be to propitiate British public opin- 
ion — ^to deserve the approval, not of his own 
country, but of Englishmen. Prospects are 
held out to us of an astonishing pitch of 
American glory to be attained, by Genin's 
hats being admired by British ; or Paine's 
gas approved by British ; or Pennsylvania 
iron works, or New-England cotton being 
deservedly rewarded by British. Human- 
itarianism and maudlin nineteenth-century 
" sentiment " have also been brought largely 
into play. This " World's Fair " Is to bo a 
great triumph for peace and humanity — tho 
whole world is to be quieted for ever hereafter 
— tho Millennium is to come right off — " tho 
Anglo-Saxon family are to be reunited " — 
war Ls to end, the English and the Austrians 
are to become very good boys for evermore — 
the progress of humanity is to be largely 
advanced — tlic wliole >vorld is to be changed 
lienceforth ; nay, the laAvs of the Eternal (Jod, 
history, nature, fact, arc to bo utt«'rly annihi- 
lated henceforth ; and '* friendly competi- 
tion," and civilization, and the mission of tho 
new 8a\iourare now to go-ahead and no 
mistake. And all this is to b^^ done, this 
very year, by a raree show in llydc Park, 
London, under the direction of Punch, 
Prince of 8axc Coburg-Ciotha, and his 
American horn-blower. Surrly suj)r<'mo 
cant, tlunkeyi^m, the vilest charlatanism, 
and the most unfjithomable nonsense, never 
U'f(;re enjoyed such a world-wide triumph ! 

Tho Emperor Napoleon was onc<i in- 
fonned that the peop!<^ of his capital w»'ro 
preparing to reyc^lt. He issu«.<l n<'.\t morn- 
ing ordci*s for the instant gilding of tho 
dome of the Invalides. The ey«*s of tho 
ontire po])ulation of l*aris were immediately 
directed from him, uj»ward, to a ball of 
wood and stone. The splendid coup d\vil 
of the building, after the magnificent de>igi> 
of the Em})eror should bo comj)leted, liO- 
came tho oao theme of coiiversiatiuu iu sdl 


« The WbrkTs Fair.^ 


circles, from the palace to the caf^. For 
days and weeks, interested passengers on 
foot and in carriages, and curious and ad- 
miring persons, from house-top and win- 
dows, kept gazing aloft at the colossal 
object so soon to be decorated with the 
tinsel of empire, viewing it from this point 
and that, and discussing the relative im- 
pressions it would produce on the eye in 
such and such a light, always ending with 
the exclamation. How worthy such a truly 
French idea is of the conqueror of Jena 
and the hero of Austerlitz! By-and-by, 
when the excitement had subsided, and the 
dome was not gilded, the emeute and the 
conspirators had been forgotten. 

" The volatile French !" — " Poor senseless 
Celts caught by the idea of a gilded show !" — 
** Can any stronger proof be required that 
they are utterly incapable of self-govern- 
ment ?" " Did we not always say that they 
were deficient in the peculiar attributes of 
the Anglo-Saxon, in * solidity of character,' 
in * strenuous purpose,' in * indefatigable 
order,' — qualities peculiarly belonging to the 
Anglo-Saxon family, and which render its 
members, whether in America or Europe, 
alone capable of self-government?" 

Such are the eminently satisfactory con- 
clusions deduced by members of the " An- 
glo-Saxon family" from this and similar 
incidents in the history of the French nation. 
So unselfish and magnanimous a theory, re- 
dounding, as it does, to the glori6cation of 
the typical man, we will not dare to deny. 
Science, reason, philosophy, fact, conserva- 
tism ; the " interests of society," of peace, 
law and order; the supremacy of cant; the 
continuance of all scoundrelism, necessitate 
its truth. Let it, therefore, in due reverence 
to these august powers, be acknowledged by 
us. An Humble Reviewer. Possibly, how- 
ever, we may be enabled to find similar gilded 
stratagems, for the taking of other than the 
French people by the nose, almost as singu- 
larly applied, though not, wo hope, to turn 
out as remarkably successful. 

But two years back, the attention of the 
thoughtful of the world was everywhere 
directed to the nations struggling for demo- 
cratic freedom in Europe. The principles 
involved in these combats, the effects to be 
evolved from them, were the sole subjects of 
men's thoughts. First, there was seen rais- 
ing its head, under the bonnet of a Cardinal 
md the tiara of a Pope, the same republi- 

canism which, from '89 to 1815, had Bhaken 
or overthrown the thrones of Europe in 
succession ; which had wrested the land of 
Rienzi from the Austrians, and ihft oi 
Sobieski from the Russ; which had over- 
whelmed England with unsaleable goods 
and an illimitable debt; which had anni- 
hilated the aristocracy of Prussia, and left 
in ashes the capital of the Tzar. Next, the 
same republicanism was seen flinging off the 
authority of the Cardinal and the mask of 
the Popedom, and concentrating the ener- 
gies of all Italy in one struggle for unity 
and life; hurling out of France another 
monarchy, and subju^ing its mushroom 
appendages without the aid of the guillo- 
tine; raising barricades in Berhn, Vienna, 
Turin, Messina, and contemplating them in 
Warsaw and Dublin, in London and St. 
Petersburg. And again was seen the organ- 
ized forces of this monarch and that, marching 
in junction against the Hberties of insurgent 
peoples in detail, sacking Rome, conquering 
the Viennese, rending asunder the heart- 
strings of Hungary, placing Buda-Pesth 
under martial law, and restoring once more, 
by sheer brute force, the rule, over all Eu- 
rope, of monarchs lawfully expelled by the 
nations subjected to them. During two 
years and more, this drama was enacted 
before the eyes of a wondering world. 
Every incident was made the subject of 
universal discussion, every principle therein 
involved, of universal thought A defeat 
of republicanism in Italy was not of im- 
portance to the Calabrian, the Roman, the 
Lfombard, or the Piedmontese alone. The 
Gremian, the Swiss, the Parisian, the Vien- 
nese, the Hungarian, the Berliner, even the 
Londoner, recognized in every reverse of an 
individual nation, a common defeat to each 
of themselves and to the great principle for 
which they all alike were warring. Nay, 
the reverses of Hungarians, Italians, Ger- 
mans, Irishmen, the British people, the peo- 
ple of Schleswig-Holstein, became not only 
a matter of intense interest to the people of 
Europe, but the news by every steamboat 
roused the diversified, but thoroughly Re- 
publican people of this continent to the 
madness of despair, or the enthusiasm of joy. 
As Republican after Republican reach^ 
these shores an exile, he was astonished 
to find in the oldest Republic of the modem 
world an enthusiasm, a genial love, a 
bursting welcome, and a boundless hospi- 


^The WarkPi Fair."* 


tilitj, for him and his cause, more siDoere 
and self-ABcrifidDg than he left behind in 
the younger and yet more stolid Republics of 
Europe. In fact and truth, monarchies and 
their interests ; the political childVplay of 
aristocratic statesmen ; and the peculiar push- 
pin as to their interests of kings, by which, 
for ages, they have contrived to keep their 
peoples engaged, and even hound one people 
OD face to face against another, as fighting 
fanciers do their dogs, had utterly lapsed 
from the minds of all men; and in the 
universal desire to see all peoples matched 
against all monarchs, it was to be feared, 
that monarchs, in their imbecility and utter 
nothingness, should be altogether forgotten. 
Besides, such a state of afikirs, such a cx>ntest 
for mere right against palpable wrong, for 
popular liberty against individual usurpation, 
and the wars, and the democratic alliances, 
and the democratic sympathies it called 
forth, inducing men even to die for their own 
or a brother land, to spend their last coin in 
austaining a glorious rebellion, or overthrow- 
ing an accursed throne, to abandon families, 
and labor, and all their hopes of profitable em- 
ployment under the ancient r6gime — such an 
anarchic mania was shockingly opposed to 
the interest of commerce, to the advancement 
of ** civilization," to the propagation of ** free- 
trade" principles, and to the interests of 
the moneyed and manufacturing plutocracy. 
When Germans were cogitating how to 
take Cologne, or Munich, — how to avenge 
Blum, or give but one other holy sword to 
KoMuth; how was it to be expected that 
they could be strenuously thinking, as 
they should be, about buying English cloth 
with "fancy articles?" When Itiilians in 
one quarter, Hungarians in another, and 
Poles in a third, were seeking, night, noon, 
and morning, some means of dragging still 
lower in the dust the empire of Austria, 
how was it to be expected that they could 
compete with the Americans in the London 
market in com and food, distil wines for the 
Englishman, or buy his cutlery and his iron- 
work ! Nay, was it not to be feared, that these 
continental democrats would prove utterly 
unproductive, to the perfidious island, which 
had so often cajoled them, for months on 
months, to deliver them, in the end, naked- 
handed, to the vengeance of its monarchical 
and congenial allies? When Frenchmen, 
mih their "peculiarly excitable character" 
and ''volatile temperament," were writing 

books, editing the most seditious newspa- 
pers, forming clubs, concocting schemes, 
and even going to gaol, hke that atrocious 
editor of Le Feuple^ or into exile, like the 
anarchic villains transported to Algeria, 
simply for the purpose of rousing the peo- 
ple of all Europe to establish the rights of 
mere useable humanity against the privi- 
leges and sacred powers of capital, what 
might not in a short time eventuate, even to 
England, where the artisan is nothing, and 
the man who works him everything — even 
to London, where the spoils gathered toge- 
ther from the tired right arms of the workers, 
everywhere, lie largely concentrated, like cor- 
rupted >'itality in a world's wen, and whence 
are issued loans to all the poor monarchs in 
difficult circumstances, that they may renew 
the almost broken bonds of their insurgent 
" subjects ?" In short, if men were to go on, 
day after day, debating right and wrong, 
on both sides of the Atlantic, raising insmv 
rections and horrid wars for their hberty 
and their property, (God bless the mark !) 
what in the end was to become of the 
monarchies, and other idle classes, of Eng- 
land and Germany ? If men were to continue 
merely men, and not produce-growing and 
cloth-consuming machines, what, in the 
name of common sense and the cash-book, 
was to bo made out of them \ Nothing — 
absolutely nothing. Trade was at a stand- 
still — Commerce, lay upon his oars — cloth 
did not go-— knives and forks were almost 
valueless, and rude swords and scythe-blades 
of the highest worth — monarchy trembled 
from head to foot — stocks became aftected 
with the dance of St. Vitus, or stood at 
zero catalej)tic — railroad kings lost their 
prestige in a debtors' prison — rents would 
not come — brokers migrated — and the whole 
world seemed going mad. 

Such was the frightful picture which loomed 
in the year '49-'60 on the anxious soul of 
a newspaper writer thereto unknown to 
fame, the son of an editor of a third rate 
humanitarian and general civilizing paper 
in London, hight the "Athenaium." To 
this individual came the idea of concentrat- 
ing the mind of insurgent Europe, from 
" Liberty" and " Republicanism" and fan- 
tasies equally absurd, not on a gilded dome 
in Paris, (emeutes being frequent there of 
late on such occasions,) but on a Crystal 
Palace of the " cheapest English glass," to 
be built in an intramural part of London for 


•* The World's FturP 


the staring admiration of universal human- 
ity. This person had not one cent in " coin 
of the realm," but much stray coppers of 
shallow philosophy, and an illimitable stock 
of profound impudence. A communication 
was readily established between him and 
the Prince Albert, the German husband of 
the Queen of England. To the latter gen- 
tleman the voluble discoverer of the scheme 
made known its astounding importance in 
European pohtics, showed him how each 
ruler, so called, of Europe would direct the 
attention of his people there — how especially 
it would interest and surprise the Germans, 
and utterly entrance the volatile French — 
how, by an imposing display of Kidder- 
minster carpets and household troops, of 
Sheffield cutlery and dragoon sabres, of 
Manchester cloth and Highland light infan- 
try, of model tubal bridges and heavy can- 
non, the mistaken and fanatical foreigners, 
who had lately indulged in the wildest hatred 
of England, and the most unreasonable con- 
tempt for her proficiency in the arts and 
sciences, would be taught an exemplary les- 
son. The son of the " Athenaeum" deeply 
interested the Prince farther, by discoursing 
to him on peace principles, on humanitarian 
and progrcss-of-his-species theories, and by 
displaying to him hoW, though the proposed 
scheme was merely one to glorify Eng- 
land and (as he thought) sell British manu- 
factures, yet it would bear the appearance 
of England sacrificing herself at the altar of 
universal benevolence, and propelling, even 
at a loss to hereelf, the interests of Peace, 
Trade, and Industry of all Nations. The 
Prince immediately jumped at the idea of 
becoming pjitron of the gorgeous scheme — 
the Big Show entranced him, with its ac- 
companying ideas, of moral effect. Crystal 
Palace, staring Germans, enthusiastic French, 
obfuscated Americans, growling police, mar- 
shalled troops, pohtical importance and truly 
religious consequences — all perfectly en- 
tranced him. His literary instructor was 
equally pleased at the idea of becoming mem- 
ber of committee. Next came Her Gracious 
Majesty the Queen, and she, pleased beyond 
measure, either " by the advice of her min- 
isters" or without it, gave to her husband 
and his abettore, including the discovering 
son of the Editor as fac-totum, a Charter 
empowering them to hold this great Peep 
Show, to be called the " World's Fair, and 
Exhibition of the Industry of all Nations." 

And here begins the most ridienlons part of 
the affair. This charter, given under the 
^* Royal sign manual " of &e Queen, stated 
that " in consideration of the sum of twenty 
thousand pounds in the hands" of the par- 
ties to whom it was granted, it was granted. 
Now, we shall not say this was what is 
vulgarly called a he, because it bears the 
signatm*e of a woman, (our gallantry being 
even in this instance superior to any little 
knowledge of the sex we may have acquired ;) 
but the fact is simply this, there was not 
in the hands of the parties obtaining the 
charter, either in those of the Prince Albert^ 
or his man of all work, or their abettors, twen- 
ty thousand pence for any such purpose. The 
charter was therefore granted in consider- 
ation of a falsehood, very much of course to 
the honor of England. But the avidity of 
the discoverer and the anxiety of the Prince 
were not to be balked by obstacles so trifling. 
The matter was to be pushed through ; 
the " charter was granted" ; the officious 
"commissioners of woods and forests," in 
urgent haste, meted off Hyde Park; on 
the imaginary idea of twenty thousand 
pounds, brokers and bill discounters ad- 
vanced ready money, at usurious interest ; 
masons, carpenters, glaziers, laborers assem- 
bled, architects laid ofi^ London presses laid 
on, and now the " Crystal Palace," wherein 
is to be concentrated the bright ideas of nine- 
teenth-century humanity, has reached the 
roof, although to this hour the parties interest- 
ed have not been able to collect the stipulated 
twenty thousand pounds. But what mat- 
ters it — are not there the taxes, and the 
obedient English people, and subservient 
ministers, and the Prince's name — and what 
more need be ?* 

*Our ''true and particular account" of this 
email but siDgular conspiracy is entirelj drawn 
from English authorities. To do away with any 
doubts which may arise in the mind of the pro- 
Anglican reader, as well as a little further to 
develop the immense resources in stopidity, bom- 
bus:, and untruth, brought to bear on the ** Crystal 
Palace," we shall here in a note endeavor to con- 
dense the matter of several articles on the subject^ 
publiiihed in the Meehaniea* Magazine^ (London, 
Fleet street,) in the volume from January to June, 
1850, being 


Back -STAIRS History of the Crystal Palace.— 
The Royal Gazette (or private newspaper of the 
Queen of England, dedicated to publi^ning herwill 
and the descriptions of thieve s,) dated 4th January, 
1860, contains her "commission'' authariaing ths 


" The WarlcPs FtUrP 


By such schemes was this unmitigated 
delusion forced into existence. Starting on 

■ CryBtal Palace" and the « World's Fair." It is di- 
Reted to His Royal Hiubnepp, Fiancis Albert 
Auffustus Cliarles Emanuel, Duke of Saxony, and a 
dou of other things beside ('nrhich means the Queen's 
ovn particular husband, and nothing shorter,) to the 
Duke of Buccleugh, Earl of Rosse, and twenty-one 
more persons, of whom are Premier Russell and 
Freetrade Cobden, Banker Baring and East India 
Componj Galloway, <&c. This commission recites 
that a certain Soaety of Arts, of which the man 
vith all the names. Prince Albert Punch Augus- 
tus CsMir, ^c^ &.c^ is president, '' have proposed 
to establish an Annual Industrial Exliibition in 
1851, at which prizes to the vcUue of tufSJittf thou- 
9nd fHntnds at lecut shall be atearded to the most 
meritorious works'* — and fr.rther, that this Society 
* hart invested^ in the name of the M. of North- 
tmpton. Lord Clarendon, (of Irish notoriety,) Sir 
P. Boileau, J. C. Peache, the sum of twenty 
thousand pounds for that purpose." 

To these Royal assertions the Mechanics* Mag- 
orine replies that it is to be eznccted that *' a State 
paper oiight to contain the trutn." (Our experience 
proyes that this commentary of the Mcch. Mag. 
M eotirely factious, and wortliy only of contempt, 
inafmuch as wo neyer knew or heard of an Eng- 
lish State paper which did contain a particle of 
trath.) The Meeh, Mag. further states, it is 
not troe that the Society referred to in tlic com- 
miisioD ** have inycsted the sum of £20,000 to be 
awarded in prizes and medals," the Society never 
liafiDg had any such sum to invest for any pur- 
pose; and if they had the sum, their own charter 
d't-i not permit them to have the power of so in- 
vf-'tiii^ iL 

Iti liiij* dilemma (the Magazine further explains) 
rtc<ii:rfce was liad to money brokera; an(l*'jobbini^ 
Cf/ntriiCtt)rH*' supplied the money on the I'liith of 
Vuiij repaid ir/7/t interest and a h<muft out of thfi 
HfUttitiunr So that this whole " World's Fair" 
Circe, in ihi* view, takes the aspect of a design by 
ii*hU r«« and nn»ney brokers to hold a grand exhi- 
hiTy.n "if tho " Iiuhi^'try of all nations," <tc., to ex- 
l.i" It tlieir own industry by making money out of 
:;.•■ "witle-* exhibitors; and his Iloyal Highness 
v;:h all tlie names, anfl all the groat peojile al>oye 
a'.! .'led t«». ".tanrl convicted of being participators 
in the act. Our authority is, you sec, British. 

It wiu« aW) stated, continues the editor of the 
M^^rhanicn' Ma'jazinr,i\vAi the Society of Artwhad 
luniiMl ivrtain partitas as Treasurers and Trustees 
f'f rbo Fund— an untnitli, continues the editor, in- 
ipmtich a-» thfi voted of the Society were never 
ta\jm f-n the subject -another eviiience that the 
ich^'HiC wa-* *"g«>t up" by irresjxui.-'ible Jigencies. 

Till)* *• irot up" *' ('ommitt(»e" consi'-ted of five, 
all «'f wh*pni. a«sert< the Mechanicft Maf/azlne edi- 
tor, are men of straw, intere'»ted parties, or j)er- 
*«* utterlv unkn<jwn, al^^uit whos<' existence even 
:lk»'re i* verv strong doubt. The names are — 

1. Ilonrv" Cole, (whom the editor of the Maga- 
Koe referred to declares to be an umhra^ or 
prr,*jftblv a distant relative of Old King Cole, and 
thenifwrc sla probably known to Victoria.) 

a falsehood for the purposes of deception, 
it has effected the object of its conceiv- 

2. Charles Wentworth Dilke, Jr., (the son of old 
Dilke, the proprietor of the Atlienseum.) 

8. George Drew. (About this person there is 
no doubt— he is the solicitor to the contractors 
who furnished the £20,000, to be repaid with 
interest, and a bonus out of the exhibition— there- 
fore an eminent judge of art, and a very disinter- 
ested part)r.) 

4. troncis Fuller. (The editor of the ifecAantc/ 
Magazine concludes he must be one of " Fuller'a 
Worthies," as otherwise he is ignotus.) 

5. R. Stephenson — (the eminent engineer, a 
highly honorable and worthy man, but too much 
occupied by professional business to attend. At 
the urgent solicitation of the Prince Francis Al- 
bert Augustus Cffisar Punch, die , and at the last 
moment, he agreed to " lend his name ;" bat, on 
finding the true bearing of the plot, he resigned 
and withdrew altogether.) 

The whole Committee, asserts the editor, (ex- 
cepting number 6,) are " obscure individuals," 
or persons in whom " the public (L e. the Briti^ 
public) have no confidence. And yet the Presi- 
dent of the United States and the American people 
have confidence in, and intrust their productions to 
men, whom tlio Britisli themselves avow incapable 
of being trusted. " The whole affair," contmuet 
the editor, " is a conspiracy of five or six mem- 
bers of the Society of Arts," — how got up, with 
what falsehoods, what unworthy schemes, we 
have seen, sufficiently to conclude what further 
confidence they deseive. It is known, however, 
that Hon. Abbott Lawrence has confidence in 
Fuller the worthy, in Drew the contnictor's attor- 
ney, and in Dilke, J nn , all being " Anglo-Saxons," 
" all honorable men." 

Further, with reference to foreign nations, the 
" commission " recites that the Society of Arts re- 
quested *' Her Majesty " to give her sanction 
to the undertaking, so that it might "have tho 
confidence not only of all classes of her subjects, 
but of the subjects of foreign countrie<'." 

Her Majesty was never so requested to do. Tho 
Society of Arts never made any such request, and 
as Prince Albert Augustus Punch Cje>:ir, ttc, is 
President of the Society itself, the fal-Hihood 
must have originated in some tender arrange- 
ment between him and his wife. So be it, royalty ( 

One more instance of bad fjiith: '*Ti»e ilAoimJ* 
says the editor, ** hjts been made guilty of a false- 
hood." The " commission" promised " twenty thou- 
sand pounds in prizes" It is now detenniued not to 
award any prizes, — First reason, In'ca use the system 
is objected to by the British press, as bein*^ calcu- 
lateil t ) favor foreigners ; — Second reason, fr'cawte 
there in no vionnf. 

Such is the prcent condition of this di-:;^.icefu! 
job. The go<><ls exhibited by foroii^i manufac- 
turers will of course be liable to the debl> due to 
the contractors. Ihitish manufacturers have re- 
fused to pay a cent, or to have any connecion 
with the farce; nnd to cap the climax. Lord John 
Russell has refu«»ed to be rospon-^ible in the inntter, 
and has, at a public meeting in London, (although 


** The World's Fair J* 


ers. Look over Europe and America, and 
where now are the ideas wh'ch, two years 
since, agitated the democracies of the world, 
and turned all men's minds to a holier and 
more glorious worship than that of Dry- 
goods and Hardware ? The political aim of 
the entire scheme was alone considered by 
foreign monarchs and by imperilled aristo- 
cracies, and they have lent to it a ready and 
willing assistance. The last obstacles which 
threatened to intervene between this Raree 
Show and the liberty of Europe, the legiti- 
mate nullification of a tyrant's will by the 
people of Hesse Cassel, and the honest in- 
surrection of the Schleswigers, have been 
isolated from Republican Europe, and pros- 
pectively defeated. The people of the old 
world, whom two or three years ago the 
suborned armies of their monarchs could 
not hold in check, now with spirits sunken, 
and hard features grim, are quietly directed 
to " 1 jok to London and industry and peace." 
The Emperor of Austria, having shot down, 
hung, driven into exile, and impoverished his 
whole people — so that even the citizens of 
Vienna are in want of current money worth 
anything but a nominal value, in want of 
clothing, food, the very necessaries of life — 

by his advice alone could the Royal Coromission 
have been granted,) declared the Prince Albert 
Francis Augustus Cajsar Punch, ifea, " the great 
originator of the scheme." 

All tlicse facts have been long since published 
in the British pres.^, and are known to be strictly 
true. How Mr. Abbott Lawrence can have so far 
forgotten, in his ** Anglo-Saxon" tomfoolery, the 
duties of an Ambassador, as to keep his Govern- 
ment in ignorance of tliem, or, if he have informed 
his Government^ how it can have been so remiss 
as to keep the people of the United States in ig- 
norance of them, and induce them by representa- 
tions directly opposed to fact, by strippmg ships 
of war to carry toys ; ships which may, before the 
" exhibition" is well begun, be needed to protect our 
citizens in Central America, or even in our Atlan- 
tic citie?, (vide Alison's Treatise on sacking New- 
York, <kc,) are ques^tions eminently worthy of so- 
lution by the Senate of the United States. But 
to the deceived and credulous citizens of America 
who may be so hazardous as to trust their pro- 

ferty to Fuller Worthy, Umbra Cole, " Dilke 
un.," Punch Prince Albert, contractors — Attorney 
Drew, ifec., on the representation of His Grace 
"Anglo Saxon" Lord Lawrence, and find them- 
selves cheated and deceived, we have but one 
advice to give : 

M Follow that Lord, 
And see you mock him Dot." 

Wo shall again have occasion to refer to other 
back-stairs ReveUtions of the '* Crystal Palace." 

has graciously Tecommended his artisans to 
go to the London show with their prodoo- 
tions. So of the kings and potentates and 
kinglings and dukelings throughout Grer- 
many. The intolerable hoax has been seised 
on by every " ruler" in Europe, in danger of 
not ruling. But let us of this continait 
judge its effects by results before • our eyes. 
Before this scheme had entered the head of 
a German Prince, before it was foisted on 
our press by the feeders of the LoDdon 
newspapers, before it was seized as a lucky 
wind-fall by the defeated monarchists of 
Europe, and dinned into the wondering ear 
of our Anglo-Saxon Ambassador, the entird 
thoughts of the American people, outside of 
their own domestic and national concerDS, 
were directed to struggling republicans in 
the Eastern Continent. Americans then 
discerned that Europe needed more than 
dry-goods civihzation, than the infliction of 
peace by massacre, the re-establishment of re- 
ligion by outrage, the re-consti-uction of " or- 
der" by anarchic kings. If America was, in 
the estimation of " our transatlantic cousins," 
celebrated only for that therein " there was 
roast goose and apple sauce for the poorest 
inhabitant," the American people then con- 
sidered it was but fair that the people of 
Europe should have even so much, first, if 
they could get it^ and the rest afterwards. 
In these days the good President Tayl(» 
sent an envoy to recognize Hungarian Inde- 
pendence ; more than one Senator vied m 
an endeavor to destroy all friendly commu- 
nication between America and tyrants; 
Webster the god-hke, and Cass the ungram- 
matical magniloquent, delivered orations 
abounding in patriotism and republican 
rhapsody ; and the people debated whether 
or no they should send money, arms, muni- 
tions, and equip fleets and expeditions to 
help this European couutiy, or that, in its 
wearisome battle. And now, the change: 
societies in Wall street, of the lottery fend, 
to furnish free tickets to the London Fair; 
articles in newspapers on the " Crystal Pal- 
ace," and the interest taken therein by great 
people and aristocrats, replacing the stories 
of Hungarian and German war ; a Preftident 
constituting a committee with one " Peter 
Force," or Peter Funk, or Peter Fool, (we 
forget which, but the terms are synonymous,) 
as Chairman, to engage everybody to run 
over to London and stare ; and ships of war 
lying stripped of every gun in our dock- 


Our Contributors. 


yards to cany over the available proceeds 
of American delusion, that tbey may grace 
the Crystal Palace on tlie mud banks of the 
Thames — an American ambassador running 
from dinner table to dinner table to gulp wine 
and spout the great victory promised to the 
Anglo-Saxon race, utterly ignorant that any- 
thing else is kds business — long lists issued 
from Washington designating the articles 
deemed by Peter Fool aforesaid, and his 
compeers, worthy to be sent to this grand 
exhibition of cant and poltroonery ! Who 
are fit for self-government in this world, when 
gilded domes, and children's glass houses, 
and transparent can^ play such pranks with 
mcfn — reduce to utter ridicule a nation which 
owns the grandest nationality on ernth, which 
has won it in the battle-field, and main- 
tained it in the battle-field ? 

'* O judgment, thou art fled to hnitish beasts, 
And men have lost their reason 1" 

Of all living men commend me to the 
" Anglo-Saxon " to carry out with due so- 
lemnity that which he knows to be a hum- 

[Here again we are compelled to in- 
terrupt our contributor before he enters 
upon a new field in his argument. Within 
our present limits it is not possible to give 
him full room in his " exhibition " intended 
for the "World's Fair." The cft'ects of 
the scheme on the English Free Trade 
system, the revelations it has induced from 
English manufacturers themselves, and the 
present evidence he puts forward that the 
*' exhibition " will turn out after all an exhi- 
bition, and a thoroughly ridiculous one, 
bringing laughter and derision on those who 
have originated it, will find a place in our 
next number. We are sorry to add an evi- 
dent truth, that our contributor belongs to 
the class of men known as long-winded.] 



The many inquiries that are sent us con- 
cerning the authorship of a certain scries of 
historical and critical articles published in 
the American Review during the last year, 
have induced its, for the information of our 
readers, to ))lace before them a portrait of 
the author together with a personal sketch. 

Colonel Joseph B. Cobb, author of a 
aeries of critical and historical articles on the 
life of Thomas Jefferson that have appeared 
from time to time in this Journal, is the son 
of the late Hon. Thomas W. Cobb, of Geor- 
gia, who was a Representative and a Senator 
in Congress from that State, and well re- 
membered as the mover of the celebrated 
resolntions of censure, of 1819, against 
Andrew Jackson, for alleged unauthorized 
conduct during his Florida campaigns. 
These resolutions were accompanied by a 
speech of scathing severity, and were sec- 
onded and sustain- d by Henry Clay, at that 
time Spcjaker of the House, with another 
speech that ranks among the highest of his 
public efforts. 


The family, originally from Albemarle and 
Buckingham countia^, Virginia, have long 
been prominent in Georgia. The first mem- 
ber of Concn-ess of that name was the elder 
Howell Cobb, uncle of the present Speaker, 
who served partly during the administrations 
of Jefferson and Madison. He w.vs followed, 
about the time of Monroe's acccvssion, by the 
gentleman above named, Thomas W. Cobb, 
who served in the House till 1823. Defeated 
in consequence of his opposition to the now 
all-powerful Jackson, he was traiipfiTred to 
the United States Senate. Tlic defeat of 
William H. Crawford, candidate for the 
Presidency, and of whom Mr. Ct)bb was an 
ardent and devoted supporter, impelled him, 
imder the pressure also of domi^stic afflic- 
tions, to resign his seat in the Sonato in 
1828. He was succeeded, as next in name, 
by the Speaker of the present House of Re- 
presentatives, who has served since 1842. 

The subject of the jiresent skf^tch baring 
lost his father at q\iite an early age, was re- 
moved to the family of his guardian and 



Our Contributors. 


maternal uncle, Major Joseph J. Moore, who 
then resided at his country seat of Mount 
Airy, in Oglethorpe county, Georgia. He 
was educated principally by a venerable 
gentleman attached to his uncle's family, 
and afterwards at the celebrated Willington 
Academy, South Carolina, then under charge 
of the present Professor James P. Waddell, 
of Georgia University. He was transferred 
to this latter ancient seat of learning at the 
same time that his Willington preceptor 
became Professor there of Ancient Lan- 

Li October, 183Y, after a very brief course 
of legal reading in the office of the Hon. 
Joseph Henry Lumpkin, present Chief Jus- 
tice of Georgia, he was man-ied to the eldest 
daughter of the late Judge Clayton, of 
Athens, quite recently a leading member of 
Congress from the same State ; from both 
of these distinguished gentlemen, he re- 
ceived every assistance and encouragement 
which could bo suggested by the generous 
friendship of the one, or the paternal fond- 
ness of the other. 

In the fall of 1838 he removed to the 
State of Mississippi, and established himself 
there on a plantation in the prairies of 
Noxubee county. Here, in May of 1841, he 
made his debut before the people, in the do- 
livery of an address on the life and character 
of President Harrison, just then deceased. 
He wjis soon brought forward as a candidate 
for the Legislature, and elected the Novem- 
ber following, with a Whig colleague, by a 
large majority. 

The session of the Mississippi Legislature 
of 1842 will be long remembered by the 
citizens of that State, and by the entire 
world. It was at that session the noto- 
rious Union Bank bonds, endorsed by the 
State itself, were unconditionally repudiated. 
Against this measure Mr. Cobb recorded his 

At the same session he joined with the 
Hon. P. W. Tompkins and other Whig 
members in an attempt to defeat the pas- 
sage of a series of strong democratic in- 
struction resolutions, introduced by a mem- 
ber from De Soto county ; argument how- 
ever proved utterly futile in the j)resence of 
a determined party majority. During the 
summer following, declining to attend the 
extra session convoked by Governor Tucker, 
be resigned his scat and removed to his 
lesidence near Columbus. His friends of the 

various Whig presses published his letter of 
resignation, with many and highly compli- 
mentary accompanying regrets. 

In January of 1845, at the solicitataon of 
his Whig friends and constituents, associated 
with a talented young relative, he undertook 
the charge of the editorial department of the 
old Columbus Whig, This was during the 
pendancy of an important State election, and 
the right conduct of this paper was consider- 
ed to be a matter of great importance. His 
editorship was discontinued after the Novem- 
ber elections. 

Mr. Cobb had become, formally, a mem- 
ber of the Bar, with no intention, however, of 
engaging practically in the business of the 
courts. In his nu^ residence at Long- 
wood, near Columbus, among the mag- 
nificent oak groves and cotton-fields of Mb- 
sissippi, he devoted himself to the study 
of history and the cultivation of general 
hterature. His chief pleasure has been 
the formation of a rare and valuable library, 
and the exercise of a tnily hberal hospitality. 

During the year 1848, Mr. Cobb be^an 
his Uterary career by furnishing several clas- 
sical and revolutionary stories for the JVa- 
tional Magazine of Philadelphia. One of 
these, " The Maid of Melos," attracted great 
attention at the time, by the power of its 
incidents and the extreme beauty of its style. 
Its publication led to that of many others. 
In the spring of 1850, appeared "The Cre- 
ole ; or, the Siege of New-Orleans," a ro- 
mance founded on events connected with 
the campaigns in and around that city dur- 
ing the last war with Great Britain. This 
novel was received by the entire press of the 
South-west with warm expressions of ap- 
probation. In the State of Mississippi, and 
in the cities of Mobile and New-Orleans, it 
was especially well received. Mr. Cobb is 
one of the few American authors whose 
works have sold well upon their own merits^ 
and without the aid of a European reputa- 
tion ; a fact which renders criticism or com- 
mendation almost unnecessary. 

Our author began his contnbutions to the 
American Whig Review in April of the 
present year, with a review of Macaulay's 
History of England, in which, so far from 
pursuing the beaten track of eulogy in 
which the unmanly criticism of the day so 
especially dehghts, he has taken up his au- 
thor with a strong hand and discussed his 
merits and defects with a power and even s 


A Word of EncouragemmU 


magnifioenoe of diction worthy of the sub- 
ject In this review Mr. Cobb has shown 
faimself peculiarly a historian, and though 
but thirty years of age, an age at which 
Gibbon confesses to an unformed style and 
unsettled opinions, he has shown qualities 
that point nim out as a future historian of 
the New World. Mr. Cobb is strictly a 
Bepublican, and an American in heart and 
head. With a taste and imagination equal 
to the splendor of courts, he dwcovers a sen- 
timent superior to their follies. The value 
of such a writer at such a time seems to us 
inestimable ; he is one of the few who have 
had courage to speak, think, and write as a 
representative of Republicanism, in an age 
when the literature of our tongue is almost 
entirely monarchic and servile. 

The readers of the American Review 
have before them a series of articles on the 
life and political career of Thomas Jefferson, 
published in the last six numbers of the 
year, which would have been alone suffi- 
cient to sustain the political and historical 
character of the Review. That chapter of 
the series which develops the secret move- 
ments that arose from the mortal enmity 
between Burr and Jefferson is, beyond 
all question, one of the finest passages of 
American history. Were the hterary and 
historical labors of our contributor to end 
here^ it is our belief he has earned for 

himself rndying fame as a writer of politi- 
cal history ; and in this field more than any 
other, we venture to say his future reputa- 
tion as an author is to be achieved. We 
are expecting from his hand another series 
of historical papers that will be, if possible, 
superior in interest to the last named, at 
least to the readers of American history. 
It is the desire of his friends that Mr. Cobb 
should become a member of Congress. His 
election to the House, though it might re- 
dound to the honor of £qs constituents, 
would be a loss to historical literature, as it 
would inevitably withdraw him from a field 
of usefuhiess in which, at present, he has 
no superior.* 

* Oar respect for this gentleman does not rest 
solely upon nis literary performances, or on the 
promise of his future career. He was one of the 
few, during the prevalence of the cholera in Mis- 
sLssippi, who dared to remain upon his cotton 
fielcb, and fulfil, with his own hands, the duties 
which a good master owes to his servants. With 
his own hands he administered medicine to hit 
negroes, and performed the most revolting offices 
for the sick. A bold and cheerful temper, and a 
strong constitution, were his only safeguards 
against the plague. CoL Cobb is not a dealer in 
human flesh ; his servants are the inheritance of 
his family through several generations. To the 
merit of a good citizen, he adds the more difficult 
virtues of a humane master and governor. — £jx 
Whig Review. 


Oh, think on life, with eager hope, 

To gain the good, the true I 
Find out thy spirit's proper scope, 

Then steel thyself, and do. 

Let nothing sway thee from thy task, 

When once thy foot is braced ; 
Disdain deceit's convenient mask : 

Virtue is open-faced. 

And though a host against thee ride, 

Be calm, courageous, strong ; 
To right, a friend unterrified ; 

A sturdy foe to wrong. 

Strike for the holy cause of Truth, 

For freedom, love, and light ; 
Strike, with the heart and hope of youth, 

The blows of manhood's might 


CivU Discord Duty-Free^ 



"If the base flatterers of despotic power rise up against my principles, I shall have on mj side the 
Tirtuous man, the friend of the laws, the man of probitj, and the true citizen.** 

Vattel, Law of NaiioM, Prefaet, 

We have already congratulated the friends 
of the Union, and of Republicanism in gen- 
eral, on the happy coalition that is being ef- 
fected between the enemies of American en- 
terprise and industry, and those who intend 
the violent emancipation of the negroes. This 
coalition has been brought about through 
the combination of the same elements of re- 
action in England. The absolute necessity 
felt by English manufacturers of checking 
the industrial enterprise of the Americans ; 
the new alarm raised by the sudden appear- 
ance of new forms of industry in the South ; 
the mortal dechne of production in the West 
Indies, caused by the superior facilities of 
Southern production ; the wonderful inge- 
nuity and success of American artisans, in 
the construction, economy, and navigation 
of steam vessels and merchant ships ; the 
enormous mineral wealth of California ; the 
rapid settlement and splendid prospects of 
the Pacific territories ; the probability of a 
speedy reflux of the golden tide from Lon- 
don to New- York, moving the centre of ex- 
change for the world's wealth ; the newly- 
awakened sense of the American people to 
the means used by Great Britain to extend 
her empire, and make herself master of the 
industry of all nations, — all together have 
roused up in the breast of that company of 
titled merchants called the English Govern- 
ment, a vague feeling of alarm, ill disguised 
under an exterior of haughty and contempt- 
uous commendation. The philanthropy of 
England, by way of reparation for the dread- 
ful expenses and disasters which it has 
brought upon her colonies, has struck a 
league of amity with the commercial inter- 
est, and " by the hair of the dog will cure 
Uie bite ;" by extending the blessing of ser- 
vile insurrection from the West Indies over 
the Southern United States, it wishes to place 
them upon a level with Ilayti and Jamaica, 
and by destroying the manufactures of the 

North and West, it means to equalize those 
regions with potato-growing Ireland. This 
coalition between the blood-thirsty zealots of 
Exeter Hall, and the gold-thirsty capitalists, 
whose servants at home are the House of 
Commons and the Whig Ministry of Eng- 
land, is represented iu America by an infa- 
mous secret League between the enemies of 
native industry and the disunionists of the 
North and West>, — properly speaking, the 
friends of America and the dupes of English 
merchants, — in briefs the Americans and 
the Flo N KEYS. 

In furtherance of her one grand scheme 
of monopolizing the trade of the world, 
England, as all the world knows, employs a 
system of diplomacy the most powerful con- 
ceivable. A feeble State, or union of States, 
like the Central American, or the Columbian 
(S. A.) Union, adjoining it on the south, at 
the suggestion of a British agent, borrows 
a great sum from English capitalists. The 
day of payment arrives, and it becomes dif- 
ficult to refund. A man-of-war is sent to 
enforce payment, or, instead of that, to de- 
mand a foothold on the territory, or, a mo- 
nopoly of trade, or both, the one serving the 
other. By this system, as well as by creat- 
ing civil dissensions, and breaking up the 
unions of States, and overpowering and 
crushing thom in detail — as in South Amer- 
ica and Central America — or by the estab- 
lishment of protectorates of^ and alliances 
offensive and defensive with, sovereigns 
of bad faith and bad title, as universallr 
in India, and in Central America, — EngHui 
diplomacy, supported by English arms, has 
consolidated an inmiense empire, of which 
the entire power is concentrated upon the 
single purpose of enriching and strengthen- 
ing the merchants of Great Britain, and their 
dependents, the Court, the Peerage, and the 
Church Establishment. 

A system of '* assurances," a pretended 


Civil Discord Duty-Free, 


r^ard for and steady violation of the law of 
nadoDs, is the chief defense thrown up, behind 
which the sappers and miners of English di- 
plomacy carry on their grand siege against the 
independence of every nation on the face of 
the earth ; a warfare against the wealth, in- 
dustry, and Uberty of the entire human race. 
Their empire continues to expand, and 
within a few years has moved its bound- 
aiy, like the shadow of an eclipse, over 
the southern extremity of North America. 
The power absolutely held by this tremen- 
dous organization as far exceeds that of 
Caesar or Alexander, as the commerce and 
the military skill of modern nations exceed 
those of antiquity ; but it is a power resting 
upon a rotten foundation, — namely, upon 
the mistaken veneration, charity, and trust 
«f other nations — a commercial, speculative 
power, that has grown gradually by the ob- 
terrance of that grand modem rule of con- 
quest — " Create a want, and ike means to 
is/pfy it^ and you are so far a master ; 
creaU an obligation which cannot he can- 
edled^ and under the pretense of enforcing 
i(, you may subdue and enslave,^* 

On either side of England stand two na- 
lioiis, each superior to her in absolute force 
and resource, inferior to her only in extent 
of power : on the right Russia, the Sclavonic 
Usj Mutism — on tlio loft Ainerica, the Ein- 
[•ir.- lA' Hepublics. (n>vcrncd by a powerful 
arij. xclu-'ivi' arist<x'raey,Enjrlaiid is naturally 
l]'/sti!»^ tij a d<-s|)Otisni, in which every t'orni 
"f H»Vfreignty centres in the j^-i-son of an 
aiit-n-rat, — a j^overnnient without aristocratic 
Ka-hition, and controlled by no interest of 
cb>!*, but in which the one intere>t and con- 
trollirii; motive is th<^ gl^ry of the empire, 
r.-|.ri sent«'d in its head. 

Knipirr-s naturally and necessarily absorb 
thf- 1« rritori«''ft adjoinini^ thtin. The epoch of 
tb<rir d«^'line is the ini>nient when they cease 
t** «lo thit*. 'Hioir (hcline is precidt-d by 
dvii war«i. In the alwmce of a forcifjn ])ol- 
ifj, tin- American Empire, like the liussian 
Ml] the liritish, falls into hostile parties 
•itiiin '\t< own l>oun(laries, and its Union is 
tn<l;in:^»*r»-d. I>.*t th(? attention of the peo- 
J=l»-aiid the (iovrrnnient be turned upon ter- 
Htipntii adi'-'ininir, whose inhal>itants look to 
K f.T j«rot«'Ction against hf)stile and uncon- 
jT'-nial |^>we^» : the spirit of int^.Tnal discord 
w 11 b- stili«'d bv the sense of nationality, 
ari'l tli»' enthusiiLsni of military and comnier- 
fliki tut Tprisc. 

It is the glory and transcendent virtue of 
the Constitution of the American Empire, 
that the States which it absorbs come eager- 
ly and willingly into its embraces. While it 
defends and secures, it does not oppress. It 
is a system of inviolable sovereignties. The 
highest privilege that can be accorded to a 
people is the guarantee of the American 
Union. The secret of its power and popu- 
larity, and of the hatred it excites in the 
bosom of despots, is the free and absolute 
protection oflfered by its powerful Constitu- 
tion to those feeble, half-formed governments 
which are continually springing up around' 
it, and asking admission within its pale. 

With such a power the British Empire 
is placed by nature in a strict antagonism. 
An empire whose protection is sought by no 
nation that reveres its own laws and institu- 
tions, that accords liberty to none, that de- 
stroys the individual sovereignty of all, that 
centralizes, and oppresses, and exhausts, by 
consolidation; that conquers and subdues 
to absorb ; that destroys the industrial lib- 
erty, the commerce, and the pride of all ; 
that forces all into a position of subordina- 
tion; whose government is an engine of 
extortion : such an empire is necessarily hos- 
tile and antagonistic to an armed empire of 
free States, equal rights, and equal repre- 

For what should the wars of an eni})ire 
founded uj)on the liberties of States be un- 
dertaken, if not for the protection of those 
liberties ? 

'Jlie firsthand war carried on by the people 
of America, was ai^ainst the inij)eriaUysU'm 
of the French King, whose efforts to ex- 
tend his ])ower over the valley of tlic Mis- 
sissippi failed bt.'fore the valor and heroic 
enterj)rise of the colonists of New-lCngland 
! and Virginia. 

I The second was against the imperial sys- 
' tern of (ireat BriUiin, which she viiinlv en- 
; deavored to extt-nd o\er the thirteen colonies 
of the Confederation. 

The third was against a second ctlbrt of 
the same power to exercise an inipei ial sway 
U])on the ocean, to the detriment of Ameri- 
can commerce. 

The fourth^ the war in Mexico, 1m gun in 
error, ended in a withdrawal of (;\n- arnnes 
from the limits of a con<[uere<l Stat<', and 
in the j)urch:Lse of a territory virtually and 
by the law of arms our own. 

Every war, whether begun in justice or in 



Civil Discord Duty-Free. 


error by the people of America, has resulted 
in a confirmation of the rights of individ- 
ual sovereignties^ and the withdrawal of all 
arbitrary and despotic pretensions. After 
the peace with Mexico the war moved itself 
to the Capitol, and there ended in the glo- 
rious triumph of the last session, by which 
the freedom of Internal Legislation was se- 
cured for ever to the people of the States 
and Territories by the series of measures 
for the security of State Rights, and con- 
•equently of the Union, offered by Henry 
Clay, whose glory it is to have become the 
•econd saviour and founder of the Union. 
May this venerable and illustrious champion 
of the Rights of States, this representative 
of the Laws of Nations, live to see the prin- 
ciples he has defended, and the rights he 
has established, extended over the entire 
continent, protecting the industry and the 
liberty of the great American brotherhood 
of Republics ; may he Uve to see the people 
pf these United States awakened, — roused 
to a sense of duty and of honor, and ready 
to vindicate the rights of nations and the 
sovereign hberties of States, not only 
within the limits of the Union, but on those 
adjoining territories whose inhabitants cher- 
ish a respect for the American name, and 
an enthusiastic affection for Republican Ub- 
erality and sincerity. 

With what degree of respect and affection 
the American Empire is regarded in England 
we may understand from the following. In 
the London Morning Chronicle of February 
1st, 1848. Mr. P. P. Thompson, M. P. of 
Eliotvale, Black heath, England, published in 
a letter the sentiments of a powerful party 
in England, which exhibits the native ran- 
cor of English oligarchy, and the bitter 
counsels they take together for our ruin : — 

** A partially successful war of invasion appears 
to have changed the habits and feelings of the 
predominant portion of Americans. Rome and 
ner glories stand before them in prospect, with al- 
ways this difference, ihat the Roman warred to 
civilize and combine, and the American to brutal- 
ize and destroy. There has been no such phe- 
nomenon in the antecedent history of mankind, as 
the rise of a conquering power, based on the 
avowed abrogation of human rights. This is a 
sweeping jscheme of the descendants of our negio- 
drivers against throe fourths of the family of man. 
The slave-breeding mind has conceived the idea 
of conquest, to which, in its own words, the suc- 
cesses of Rome are to be child's play. It is clear 
that England must take one side, when her enemy 
takes the other,— that she must take the lead in the 

propagation on the European cootiiieiit of the 
principles which bind natioQ to nation, and leave 
America to do the work she has aasigDed hendl^ 
of sending out her population to die, as it u hoped 
in the end they will, under the guns of honest peo- 
ple. To England the policy is clear (if the u to 
have any policy) of promoting, by ail legitimate 
means, the separation of the Northern from the 
Southern States" 

This Mr. P. P. Thompson is a worthy 
duplicate of his fellow, G. P. Thompson, the 
British emissary of Free Trade in America. 
If we are rightly informed, P. P. Thompson, 
the author of the above, is a Tory of the 
old school, and wealthy ; while G. P. Thomp- 
son, the free-trader and abolitionist, is a 
radical so called, and a needy adventurer 
supposed to be in the pay of England. Both 
are, or have been, members of Parliament, 
and, if our information is correct, represent 
the two sides of British opiniMi, which con- 
verge and agree upon the ruin of the Union. 

Encouraged by her success in the destruc- 
tion of the Columbian (S. A.) and Central 
American Republics, enterprises intrusted 
to her subordinate agents,' Great Britain, in 
the person of her man of all mischiefi Lord 
Palmerston, comes to her next grand opera- 
tion, the dissolution of the Union oi the 
greater States, and the simultaneous anni- 
hilation of the Northern industrial and 
Southern negro interest. The first branch 
of this mighty enterprise recommends her 
to the affection of our Southern, and the 
second to that of our Northern agitators. 
She comes to the work prepared with a 
pertinacity of purpose, and a steadiness of 
aim worthy of the deed, and of her ancient 
and inextinguishable hatred, and with agents 
more subtle and sagacious than any ever 
before sent from England. 

The work is cut out among them. Her 
Public Minister has one part, — it is his duty 
to accomplish the ruin of particular men and 
a particular party — the sole party from 
which any active opposition, or national 
hostility to England was to be expected. 
For what he has already accomplished in 
this work of ruin, a peerage doubtless 
awaits him at home ; for surely a more ac- 
complished agent of e\nl never left the Di- 
plomatic Hell of Downing street. 

The minor tools have their inferior tasks, 
but not less necessary. One is to encourage 
slave-stealing and preach free trade ; another 
is to cajole a Disunionist Convention ; another 
is to write, a fourth (for love) to preach a 


Civil Discord Duty-Free. 


new kind of British piety ; a dozen more to go 
about cajoling and privately frightening edi- 
tor»« inducing them to publish l3ring reports 
and "assurances." Meanwhile the entire 
lew continent is flooded with British opin- 
ion through the piratical press, to the utter 
extinguishment of national sentiment, and 
the impoverishment of those natural guar- 
diaas of our rights and honor, American 
writers; these watch-dogs of Republi- 
canism are as effectually muzzled by our 
ijstem of hterary free trade, as the French 
press by the decrees of the Emperor Presi- 
dent. Everywhere, everything Ls British : 
Inde is British; legislation is British; 
hooks are modem British; the press is 
m large part British ; the So^tth grows 
British ; the North forgets Bunker Hill 
and i^tamp duties, and grows British with 
Abolition rancor. News are of British 
agj:rcsciiuns, and of British intrigues ; of 
Dntish-made famines in Ireland, and Brit- 
ish-made wars in India; of British bom- 
bardni'-nti in China, and of British seizures 
It tlie I-'thmus ; of three per cent, duties sus- 
pendtil by the grace of Britain, (as if to 
mupend did not imj)ly a power to impose ;) 
<if citiz^fas of the United States very hu- 
manely treated by the gnvce of Britain, their 
ann-* only Inking taken fruni them ; (who gave 
Driraiii tla* n;;ht or j)o\v»'r to "tivat" cit- 
iz-ii^ .^t' tli«' riiiuxl Slat«.s on tlio freo torri- 
t'fv .»t' a ij«-iL;hl>ur U«M)u)>lic in any fashion, 
h::!naii.' «»r iii!niinan«* i) Violations of treu- 
ti'f, aii.l f){ tln> laws of nations, aro all 
i»r:*.i.-ii ; \hr. f/rotvth of em/jire is Hrit- 
>ii. 'lli«* iin»M. conspicuous and notiL'»»abl<? 
J- .-^in in Ani«rica, and by snnw. supposed 
til-- 111 -I intlui*nlial, is th»* Brit'iNli Minist*^*, 
»vrk:'._' f -r a juMTai^o as his r«*ward for tlio 
d=-tr:i' f!->n of til" party hostilo to Hriti>h 
H'il»i,r,', hid faith, f'ne trade, mock hu- 


h'ltft'j, inttrk lihendtttf^ — hostile bv natun* 
ai.d n. i-'-^Mtv to fVi-rvihinic anti-natioual, 
Aii'.i-r- [.uMi«'an, anti-Ann*rican." 

lit". ►!•• <iod, an* tin* Ann'rican jM*opl«^ 
kTr-wii alio '.'tli«r IJritisli i or is all this onlv 
u :• :iii'or;irv ♦ r!i|»M' of ns'tson and alf«rt;on ? 

I:r r«'.i:bh* '.m< th«* sillin.'ss nvA tlunk<'vi<ni 
i\ "*. ii;ii^" who favor an<l sustain this slate 
'f • :::!!_''-. W'*ak human nattiH' niii^ht b»' par- 
•i»i. d. w»Ti' it not in this instano' a si-lf- 
d— tr -VT a- y>A\ a^ a f m>1. Hitler, bitt»'r 
Ui..c:i •;. ^ a\iait a ]»<.*«>ph: talsf to th«*in^«'lv»'s 
ar.-i: .-i.- t ; rh'ir d'"*tinv. Kn;;li>h nu-nilHTs 
vf \\iT\,Mi\^ui "hope" that America will 

send out her valiant sons to die imder the 
guns of " honest people," of honest Britain — 
honest at Copenhagen — honest at llong 
Kong — ^honest over all the continent of Uin- 
dostan — honest in Spain — honest in Na- 
ples — honest in Texas — ^in Central Amer- 
ica — honest at Bunker's Hill and Groton 
Heights, at Concord and Lexington, with 
a vengeance I — honest everywhere, my 
Lord ! And certainly your caimon have an 
honest, open look about the mouth, and an 
honester set of extortioners and agitators 
were — never. You tlirive by protectorates 
and reciprocity, and pros{)er by new styles of 
piety and the spread of Uumanitarian princi- 
ples. You scatter your fire-brands in the most 
honest, uncoascious way, and an honester 
and more polite diplomacy, a more lovely 
and open-hearted MachiavellLsm than yours, 
history knoweth not. Were the Americana 
a nation of usurpers in the modern sense, 
they need not go back to Rome for a study 
of principles and practice in the art of 
" brutidizing and destroying" the nations of 
the earth. Wretched India ; degraded and 
miserable Ireland, once free and happy ; mis- 
erable China, drugged with tlie cup of Brit- 
ish abominations, reeling drunk with the poi- 
son of that apothecary — Shylock, the British 
opium merchant, whose }>ound of flesh is 
hy-and by, as in India and hvland, to bo 
i'xactod at the cannon's mouth — thcstj are 
our modern examples. With poison (twenty 
millions' worth a year,) with tire-brands (sent 
to Anieriea,) with da^i^ers and rojies, (the 
bayonets and halter^ of police in Inland,) 
with <^old, (bribes or flattering "assurances," 
/m7y otlVred the wide world ovt*r, to all who 
Work for Enixland, to vacillatini; cilitors in 
America, to a servile pr''>s in Franc*' and 
Spain, to merclumts and leu^i>lators, priests, 
litt(''rati'urs,) with poison, halt«'i*s, bayonet'^, 
bribes, an<l universal lies, smooth speeches, 
<linn<Ms and intrii^ues — tlu' glorious Knipiro 
of the l{riti>h Merchant has be<n wn»U'^ht 
out and built up heaven-high, and overlooks 
and threaten-^ — us. 

The Janus-faced traitor, the tool of Kng- 
land here, offers "free trade" t«) the S )Uth, 
and LCives 'ieer t a^^^m'ances to " Abolition'* 
in the North. Maj^netized with KhLrlish 
i,^«>l<l, or \\\\.\\ Jissuraiiee>, or, more p..t«nt 
still, with the native svni]»athv that exl '« 
l^etwe-n a flinikey an<l a lonl, the acti^6 
and NNilliiiLr Jiir'"^its of «>ur " enenjv," a^ o o 
of her own ton^ has made her, — n^r a.o 


Civil Discord Duty-Free. 


we so backward in the common spirit of men, 
BO devoid of " English pluck," as to deny 
the soft impeachment, — disseminate two sets 
of principles among us, mortal to the Union 
and to Republicanism — mortal to the " ene- 
my" of the British lords-merchant, to the uni- 
versal lords-merchant and taxers of all man- 
kind, — taxing our very thoughts, taxing the 
highway of nations between the two oceans, 
or what is woree, haughtily suspending 
" temporarily" a tax which they had no right 
to impose, and *^^ only disarming " the citizens 
of the United States, who, under the laws of 
nations, might have used those arms as a 
defense against the gross violence of these 
Isthmus pirates — working with the energy 
of devils for the destruction of American 
industry, and the separation and eventual 
subjugation of the States. The martial 
prowess of the American people, the bravest 
and the most powerful on earth, and whose 
soldiery is the most numerous and ready, 
notwithstanding the cowardly insinuation of 
a certain servile " assurer " of the people 
that they are not strong enough to enforce, 
or even to demand their rights from Eunf- 
land, — this noble-hearted but deceived peo- 
ple will laugh at and despise the insinuation 
that the heavy giant on the other side can 
hurt them. But it is by intellect and cun- 
ning, more than by prowess, great conquests 
are achieved. It is the art of conquerors to 
create civil discord in the bosom of the na- 
tion they mean to destroy ; to crush its 
operative industry ; to supplant, over-ride, 
and silence its national literature; to contemn ; 
and weaken and muzzle its orators ; to cor- 
rupt with servile opinion the education of its 
youth ; to confuse and agitate its counsels ; 
to distress and maim its commerce, or entice 
it away upon false and futile enterprises ; to 
lull its vigilance asleep with flattering em- 
bassies; to overwhelm its foreign represen- 
tatives with delusive aj)probation, and with 
other means more seductive and more pow- 
erful. These are the more approved and the 
more successful modes of conquest. No idle 
declaration now of war, or threats of repri- 
sal; the day of these and of the reverence 
of treaties is passed away, and now is the 
epoch of " assurances," of telegraphic dis- 
patches, and of mutual admiration. 

The name of " perfidious " is no longer 
nrejndicial to the conductors of nations, and 
* great politicians," who place their subtlety 
in circumvention, smile at the simple decla- 

rations of justice. To make a treaty that can 
be broken without danger is the art of our 
time, and upon ourselves that art has. been 
successfully practised. 

Under the late administration of a party 
whose name accords but ill with its princi- 
ples or practice, Mr. Bancroft went to Eng- 
land, the protector there for the people of 
the United States, not only of their rights, 
but of the rijjhts of nations. Let himself 
be the witne^ how he fulfilled his trust. Ac- 
tuated, we may suppose, by a spark of that 
ambition which was quenched in the waters 
of the Columbia river, — though here we raase 
no question about that, — he put the direct 
inquiry to Lord Palmerston, whether the 
" British Government" designed to appropri- 
ate to itself the town of San Juan de Nicara- 
gua, or any part of the so-called Mosquito 
Territory. He, Lord Palmerston, answered 
emphatically, " No ; you know very well we 
have already colonies enough." "The re- 
mark was just," continues our Ambassador, 
writing to Mr. Clayton, August, 1849; " the 
masses of the British colonies are becoming 
too weighty for the central Government,"* 
we presume, for the central Government of 
the British Empire, And is this the sole rea- 
son that can be discovered by an American 
Ambassador why England shall not seize 
upon the territory of her neighbors — because 
she is absolutely gorged with the spoil of 
nations — choked with conquest? And when 
she has got enough^ an American Ambassa- 
dor Is much delighted and well assured th^ 
she will take no more ! The British Govern- 
ment will not take possession of Central 
America, not because she has no right to it, 
not because it is robbery and piracy to do 
so, but because she has enough ; and when 
she has enough, we are to go on our way re- 
joicing ! God grant the time may come that 
she will have enough, but in another sense ; 
that she may be compelled to disgorge — to 
give up what she has unjustly appropriated. 

" When the ownership of Vancouver's 
Island was the subject of debate," continues 
our Ambassador, " the House of Commons 
took no interest in the question." Truly a 
very indifferent House of Commons, and 
well satisfied. The responsibility did not 
rest with them, but with their Minister. His 

* Message of tlie President respecting Tigre 
Island. House of Reps., Pub. Doc No. 76, July 
22, 1850. 


Civil Discord Duty-Free, 


duty it is, by fair means or by foul, to extend 
the limits of the empire, and the monopoly 
of trade ; theirs to expel that Minister from 
office when the work is done for them. He 
is to be the scape-goat of the nation's crime, 
and they are to share the advantage. 

Our simple questioner of ministers pro- 
ceeds : " I could not but ask Lord Palmerston, 
* In whose hands is San Juan de Nicaragua at 
this time V " — that is to say, In whose hands 
are the Gulf of Mexico and the four Repub- 
lics of Central America, and the trade be- 
tween the two oceans, and the regulative 
power over all intercourse between the two 
shores of the United States, at this time ? 
" He replied : * For the present, in those of 
British Commissioners.' Ls not this, then, I 
said, an occupation by England ? His an- 
swer was, * Yes ; but this occujiation was tem- 
porary.' " And so is the Britb^h Empire, and 
80 is everything but tlie justice of God, the 

stinct is to bring out the ** engines'^ and 
quench the conflagration. 

His Lordship, we have seen, declined ar- 
gument ; but instead of argument, he pro- 
duced a falsehood, and said — another irrele- 
vancy, or stumbling-block — that Costti Rica 
had as good a claim to San Juan as Nicara- 
gua, and did not hesitate to show his ** strong 
disinclination to restore that port," insisting 
however that his policy answered the pur- 
jx)ses of the United States in regard to a 
commercial highway between the two oceans. 
" You and we," said he, " can have but one 
interest." The factotum of the British Empire 
is the fountain-head of " assurances ;" they 
flow from him as from their primeval source, 
and modem diplomacy seems to be reduced 
to a system of assurances, like that of Satan 
in the garden of Eden. It is a fine pretext 
of the aggressor to assure his victims they 
can have but one interest, and it is possible 

law of nations, the rights of man, and the the absorbing selfishness of the British Gov- 
shame of repubhcan embassies. These seem ernment may even flatter itself that other 


Mr. Bancroft proceeded to show his Lord- 
ship, notwitlistanding his Lordship's '' assu- 
rances," that there was no such kin":doin as 
that of the Mosquitoes, or that if there were, 
England had no right to erect a protectorate 
there. " His Lordship declined argument." 
Well he might, having none to offer; his 
Lordship's idea of the rights of nations 
springing wlnjlly from the al)stract (Question 
whether "the masses of the British colonies" 
are, or are not, becoming relatively "too 
weighty for the central (Toveniment;" or 
whether "British statesmen })erceive it." 
The entire philosophy of history in modern \ 
times seems to have exhaust^'d itself upon 
the question whether the 13ritish (iiant will 
ever stop growing, — a question at once 
amusing and instructive to American am- 
bassadors, and valuable to undor-tutors in 
colleges ; but of no interest to the American 
people, saving in its practical form, whether 

they intend to stop its growth^ Let philuso- | /?tf^anV \v halneeToirc ?" 
phers argue — the people must act ; tlu-y ' 

have no time for argument. The house is | Why lilx^rty, why commerce, why indus- 
on fire ; to moot the question whether it i try, why wealth ? AVhat n( ed any of theso ? 
will be wholly consumed, were a striking ir- , In so great ;i mansion, is thore not room for 
relevancy — to coin anew di])lomatic i)hrase. us too? Arc not wo cntitlrd to a httle of 
The flame of conquest is burning over tlu^ j this fostering care ? 

land : as a philosophical people, it may bo | " The next dav," writes our grand diplo- 
well for us to inquire whether or no it will | mat, " I usked the Minister of (Nsta Rica 
consume us utterly, or merely burn down our if his country claimed the j)ort of San Juan. 
out'houses; as a practical people, our in- Ho said, Never; the port of San Juju al- 

nations can have but one interest, and that 
that is, — to gorge its insatiable maw. No 
doubt it would be very much for the inter- 
est of the Americim Republics to become an 
English vice royalty. Liberty is a danger- 
ous and uncomfortable possession, and re- 
quires per})etual and fatiguing vigilance. 

" The all-licensed fools," " the insolent 
retinue of lilxTty," 

" Do liourly wirp and quarrel, breaking forth 
In rank iuid not to be emlured ri(»t.<. 

lie it then desirtd 
By her. that else will take tlio thin*^ f-he begs, 
A little to (lisquantity your train. 
Lear. Darkness and devils ! 

Saddle my liorses, call nn' train tojgjethcr. 
You strike my people, and your disordered 

Make servants of their betters, 
li'o'', that too late repents ! 
Hear me. my lord, 

What need you Hve-and-twentv, ten, or fivo 
T(» follow in a house where t wiee so many 
Have a comwahd to tend i/ou f 




Civil Discord Duty-Free. 


ways belonged to the Province or State of 
Nicaragua." His Lordship has a fostering 
<»re over the rights of Costa Rica ; better 
than herself, he knows her rights ; so anxious 
is he to enforce them, he has established a 
protectorate over the rights of Costa Rica, 
and will absolutely fight for her rights. Now, 
it is for the rights of a miserable breechless 
savage, called King of the Mosquitoes, — it is 
for fis rights he fights, and now it is for the 
rights of Costa Rica, and both have identical 
rights over San Juan ; and we suppose, when 
it comes to a contest between the rights of 
Costa Rica and the Mosquito King, the whole 
matter will go into the chancery of Lord Pal- 
merston's conscience, and the two rights will 
cancel each other, and San Juan will be- 
long to England, nay, does belong to Eng- 
land — " temporarily ;" that is to say, as long 
as England continues to be in doubt whether 
" the masses of the British colonies are or 
are not too weighty for the central Govern- 

Without further argument upon the gen- 
eral principles involved in this question, let 
us appeal to the highest individual authority 
recognized by civilized nations. " When a 
free people," says Vattel, " or a popular State, 
concludes a treaty, it is the State itself that 
contracts." The people of England claim 
to be a free people ; it is they therefore who 
contract in treaty with the people of the 
United States. 

" If one of the allies fails in his engagements, 
the other ma^' constrain him to fulfil them." 

" Every thing which the public safety renders 
inyiolable is /(acred m society. The faith of trea- 
ties is then lioly and sacred between the nations 
whose safety it secures." 

" He who violates his treaties, violates the law 
of nations : doubly guilty, he does an injury to his 
ally ; he does an injury to all nations, and wounds 
the whole human race." 

Let us now turn to the facts : these are that 
the English Government have long held pos- 
session of an extensive territory lying on each 
side of the Gulf of Honduras, which belongs 
properly to one or all of five other States 
covering the territory between Mexico and 
the Isthmus of Panama. The northernmost 
of these, of which the })art seized by Eng- 
land is called Balize, borders upon Mexico 
and forms the northern boundary of the 
Gulf of Honduras. The sovereignty of this 
territory was originally in S{)ain. It was a 
part of those Sj>ani><h territories, whose free- 
been formally and repeatedly recog- 

nized by Spain and by England bersel£ 
The King of Spain had permitted Eng- 
land to cut logwood there, and after the 
separation of the Spanish colonies she gra- 
dually strengthened herself and took pos- 
session of the entire northern boundary 
of the Bay of Honduras. The entire terri- 
tory of Balize, and late of the Island of Roa- 
tan, lying opposite in the Gulf, have been 
seized by England, and are held by her 
without pretext or the shadow of a right. 
The power of the Spanish monarchy, had 
it even been interested to contest the posses- 
sion of these territories, would have been 
insufficient to enforce the rights of the colo- 
nies. In two numbers of this journal, Feb- 
ruary and March, 1850, we have shown 
under what pretenses the Enghsh Govern- 
ment, or if England be a free country, the 
English people, according to Vattel, have 
seized upon another extensive territory, be- 
longing to Nicaragua, also without the sha- 
dow of a right ; and the readers of the Herald 
and Tribune and Sun are well aware that^ 
farther, the Government of Great Britain is 
attempting to establish a protectorate or 
virtual possession over Costa Rica, and that 
she has laid claim at various times to a 
considerable portion of the territory of 
Costa Rica. Her claims upon this latter 
State are also set forth in the articles alluded 
to, of February and March, 1850. In ad- 
dition to the above, we mast not forget the 
attempts of Great Britain to seize upon Tigre 
Island in the Gulf of Fonseca,onthe Pacific 
side of Central America. Upon the 16th of 
October the British war-steamer Gorgon, hav- 
ing on board Her Britannic Majesty's Charg6 
d'Afiaires in Guatemala, arrived in the 
Bay of Fonseca, and proceeded at once to 
take possession of the island of Tigre, in 
the name of the Queen. The particulars of 
all these proceedings and seizures are well 
known through the daily press. It is suf- 
Jiciently evident tJiat the intention of the En- 
glish Government extends to the possession 
of the entire region between the isthmiis of 
Panama and the southern boundary of Mex- 
ico, In fact^ she is virtually in possession 
of one half of all the region so bounded. 

Here we have a people who pretend to 
be the great defenders and expounders of 
the Laws of Nations, seizing without remorse 
upon a territory of vast extent, and in value 
the most productive and the most desirable 
on the face of the eailh. 


Civil Discord Duty-Free. 


Now if it were a contest between the peo- 
ple of the United States and the people, sup- 
posed free, of England, which ought to become 
possessors of the most valuable portions of the 
K^orth American continent, idl rights and 
treaties set aside, were we worthy of respect 
for vigor and enterprise, we would contend 
manfully for the prize, and we would secure it, 
knowing as we do that this magnificent terri- 
tory exceeds in value a dozen States of Texas, 
and that it promises to become in future a 
home and a source of wealth for our own 
citizens. But that is not all : these coun- 
tries intervene between the Eastern and 
Western United States, and if there is to 
be a commerce between those States, the 
holder of these territories will be able to 
regulate, and at pleasure to suspend that 
commerce ; but if, as some shrewdly argue, 
there will be no such commerce, then, until 
the completion of our Pacific Railroad, the 
commerce between Asia and Europe, it is 
said, will pass that way ; and if we are as we 
pretend to be, the very boldest and the most 
enterprising of mercantile nations, it is our 
part to become masters of these regions by 
every honorable means, — by treaty, by pur- 
chase, by colonization, by cultivating the amity 
and the good-will of the Central American 
States, by opening every form of commercial 
intercourse with them, sparing nothing, for- 
getting nothing, to secure to ou!*selves so val- 
uable a possession. So reasons the man of 
business, and the merchant. It is not neces- 
sary for the accomplishment of so magnifi- 
cent an enterprise, that we should do as 
England has done ; we need not exasperate 
the people of Central America; we need 
not violate treaties; we need not become 
pirates and extortioners. There are ways 
open and legitimate for the accom})lishinent 
of such ends without recours'^ to violence or 
fraud. The people of the five States of 
Central America, are a free and Hberal peo- 
ple ; they have sought our assistance ; they 
have intimated through our Minister in 
Great Britain, as we learn from Mr. Ban- 
croft's letters to Mr. Clayton, their desire to 
become a member of our empire ; they have 
manifested a strong aflPection for us, more 
than any other people have ever done ; their 
feelings toward Great Britain are those of 
hatred, aggravated by a long series of atro- 
cities per[)etrated by her agents within their 
limits ; notwithstanding all the scandals that 
have been circulated in regard to them, we 

know that they are a peaceable and law- 
loving people, and that they mingle with 
our own citizens congenially. We know 
that they have among them able and learned 
men — that they are in every respect a civ- 
ilized people. We know that by the in- 
trigues of British agents, their attempts to 
form an independent Union, and establish 
themselves as a power among the nations, 
have utterly failed ; but so did the first Con- 
federation of the thirteen colonies fail, and 
these Central American States are nearer to 
republicanism than the States of New-Eng- 
land were before the breaking out of the 
Revolutionary War. 

We wish now to inquire whether it were 
not an act worthy of ourselves and of our 
high position among the great nations of the 
world, to take these oppressed and suffer- 
ing Repubhcs under our wing, and for their 
good, as well as for our own benefit and 
honor, to give them an opportunity of be- 
coming what they desire to be, if not a por- 
tion of ourselves, at least a friendly and a 
powerful ally, who will not obstruct our 
commerce ; who will throw open to us 
the natural resources of their lands ; who 
will allow us without impediment to work 
their mines, equalling, it is said, those of 
California in richness, to cut the valuable 
wood of their forests, to buy from them, or 
to grow upon their soil, tlie precious pro- 
ducts of the tropics, and to supply them in 
turn with the productions of our own industry. 
Naturally and easily, population would flow 
from our own into the Central American 
States, and in a few years they would be in- 
distinguishably a part of us. 

So much then for our interests in, and 
relations with the people of Central America, 
and the magnificent region they inhabit, — 
a region which there is no need of war to 
secure oui"selves in the possession of, since, 
if the faith of treaties had been observed^ 
the region itself would be virtually ours, and 
would be colonized by our people. 

But the true question at issue is not whe- 
ther the people of America shall become 
possessors, fairly and legitimately, of the 
commercial advantages otfered them, urged 
upon them, by their rej»ublican friends and 
brothers of Central America, — that is not the 
question at issue, but whether the people of 
the United States will allow the faith of 
treaties to bo broken upon their own eonti- 
ueut, treaties made with themselves, with 


OhU Dkeord Du^Frmi 


thdr allies, and for the defense of their 
dearest interests, as well as of their honor, 
as the natural guardians of the Continent, 
and of republican institutions. 

A doctrine called the doctrine of Neutral- 
ity, or of Non-interference, it is said, stands in 
the way between ourselves and our friends, 
the Republics of Central America. If we 
rightly understand this doctrine, it means 
one of two things: either that the people of 
the United States are to renounce and ig- 
nore the existence of a Law of Nations, or 
that they are to enforce the fulfilment of 
that law. 

The two are direct contraries — ^meanings 
opposed to each other. 

K the people of America have withdrawn 
themselves from the great conmiunily of 
nations, and have ignored the existence of a 
law of nations, they can make no treaties, 
nor can treaties be made with them ; much 
less can they interfere for the defense of 
their neighbors oppressed and crushed by 
superior power, by any right, or by any 
law. They stand in a position of non-inter- 
ference in the centre, so to speak, of tnhu- 
manity, recognizing no brotherhood, no 
friendly power, no enemy, no ally. If this is 
the dc ctrine of non-interference, we do here, 
confidently uttering the sentiments of every 
honest and manly mind, solemnly renounce 
and abjure it. . 

The second meaning of the phrase, doc- 
trine of non-interference, need hardly be 
explained to any intelligent mind. " A 
nation," says Vattel, " is a moral person, 
and the law of nations is deducible from the 
natural liberty of nations and their recipro- 
cal duties." "And it is as much above the 
civil law in its importance, as the proceed- 
ings of nations surpass those of private per- 
sons in their consequences."* 

If there is a law, there is also a sanction, 
and the sanction of the law is its enforce- 

** Each nation " continues the same great author- 
ity, " ou^ht to be left in the peaceable enjoyment 
of the liberty it has derived from nature. The 
natural society of nations cannot subsist, if the 
rights (>ach has received from nature are not r^ 
Bpected." — 76. 

Believing as we do that the war of the 
Revolution was undertaken by the thirteen 

^11 111. — - ■■ —I ■!! Ill mtmm-m i ■■■ ■ t ii 

* Vattel— Pre&ce. 

colonies fcfr the defense of Am f u H fe ttba r 
soverei^ty of eadi oolony, we are findwr 
constrained to believe that a Unkm, impeiial 
or confederate, of these Stato^ must have 
been, and must for ever ocmtunie to be^ 
a Union for the defense and e nforcement 
of that doctrine for whldi thej toioA, 
Whether among themselves or amcmg oSmt 
colonies upon the same contmenti saljeet \o 
the imperial encroachments of Great Brir 
tain, — that Great Britain duMnot hUirfm 
among the Republics of North Amenea^im 
believe to be a first condnsion from oir 
American doctrine of non-interfeienoe. 

** The glory of a nation depends sntinlj m 
its power ; it is this shiniog aavantiige tliat pro- 
cures the esteem of oilier natiooa/' 

But the power of a nation IB the sanetion of 
the law of nations, and they aie the fimi 
and the most glorious, who gM the tine- 
tion to the law of national existenee. 

Again, says our grand authority >— 

** Nations, as obliged by nature vecipraeiny ts 
cultivate human society, are bound to obserfe 
towards each other all the dnties wbicih the sifetf 
and advantage of that todeiy xeqnirsa.* 

But if there be a society of natioiHi is 
not the system of the American BepuUki 
peculiarly such a society ; and are not the 
duties of the stronger towards the fredbv 
peculiarly obvious f 

We return to Vattel : — 

"Whatever we owe to aanfiwm we EkewHS 
owe to oUiers, as they stand it need of ■ooobc* 

** Every nation is, on occasioiiyto labor Ibrthe pres- 
ervation of others, and for aecoriiig them from 

**When a neighboring nation is threaftr 
ened to be overrun by a powerful enemy, 
do not object,^' says this revered legii- 
lator, ^Hhat lives of men will be endwn* 
gered." When Massachusetts was indan- 
ger of subjugation from Great Britain, as our 
allies now are, Virginia did not objeot that 
lives of men would be endangered. 

But fEurther : — 

** A nation is not to con6ne Itadf to the 
preservation of other States; ii should likewisi 
contribute to their perfeotioo.** 

That is to say, according to the book 
which is the highest authori^ next to 
the Constitution of the United States, and 
whose leading principles are identical witk 



Frudom to Eer Votaries. 


!iat ConstitutioQ, and more perhaps than 
ny other gave authority for its precepts, we 
re in duty bound not only to succor our 
ister Republics in their distress, by a just in- 
3rvention in their behalf, giving a sanction to 
[le true "non-interyention," but we ought to 
id them in every way, for our own sake and 
)r theirs, to establish themselves as a pros- 
erous and independent Republic ; we ought 

> insist manfully and fearlessly that they 
8 not driven into a corner of their own land 
y a foreign power hostile to them, — and, 
irough the violation of treaties, and in other 
rays, hostile to us, — but should insist upon 
lie integrity 6f their territory. 

** It is safest," says Vattel, " to prevent 
lie evil when it can be done." And again : 

"All nations are strictly obliged to cultivate jus- 
ee with regard to each other. TliL) right i^ perfect ; 
lat is, accompanied with the right .of using furce 

> make it observed. Were this not so, tiie just 
rould be at the mercv of fraud and injustice. 
lie right to obtain justice by force is the right of 
D offeosive war." 

We have a right to use force to prevent 
be destruction of our sister Republics by an 
ggressive power. To say that wo are not 
0^ to do 80 is the argument of a coward, 
or did ever any nation thrive by cowardice. 
}od favors the strong when they apply 
h/dr strength to the execution of his laws. 

•* Iict us apply to the unjust what we have said 
bove of a mischevous or maleficent nation. If 
iiere be any that makes an open profession of 
rampliDg justice under foot, of despising and vio- 

lating the rights of others whenever it finds an op- 
portunity, the interest of human society will author- 
ize all others to humble and chastise it * * 
* * (Or) if by constant maxims, and by a con^ 
tinned conduct, one nation shows that it has evi' 
dently this pernicious disposition, the safety of the 
human race requires that it should be auppressed. 
To form and support an unjust pretension ;« to do 
an injury not only to him who is interested in this 
pretension, but t0 mock at justice in generaly and 
to ivjure all nations," 

Terrible but glorious sentiments I Within 
the circle of their legitimate influeace, where 
nature, and fate, and the principles of their 
constitution; and the expectation and hope 
of all mankind have placed them ; within 
that circle, clearly marked, let the Ameri- 
can people accomplish their duty, — by what 
just means we care not: If by treaties, then 
let the treaties be fulfilled and carried out 
in their spirit; if by the movements of 
individual citizens, then let those move- 
ments be encouraged and protected as far 
as is consistent with the rules of public 
justice ; but best by the fair and open way, 
by the enforcement of a treaty already 
shamefully violated to our own dishonor.* 

* Not that the treaty alluded to was necessary 
as a reason for action ; for says Vattel : — 

"The treaties by which we simply engage not 
to do any evil to an ally, — to abstain, with respect 
to him. from all damage, offense, and injury, — are 
not necessary and produce no new rii^ht; each hav- 
ing, from nature, a perfect right not to suffer either 
damage, injury, or any true offense." And within 
a certain natural limit wc are bound by that prin- 


Whirefore should the Freeman kneel, 

When liis chains arc broken t 
Wherefore should he nurse the steel, 
Slavery's hated token I 

Or, is it meet 

To kiss the feet 
Tliat crush you to the clay, men; 

Or bless the foe 

You overthrow 1 — 
I pray not fioch to-day, mea 

Wherefore, in the hour of need, 

Shall a people house them ? 
Wherefore did our fathers bleed, 
When like wrongs did rouse them I 

Is this the sod, 

So blest by God, 
That slaves swear by its clay, men I 

Or, are we still 

The men of WUl ?— 
I ask you that to-day, men. 


NegUeUd Authors, 





1. Every man, bj consulting his own 
heart, may easily know whether he is or is 
not a patriot, feut it is not so easy for the 

2. Being loud and vehement either 
against a court or for a court, is no proof of 

3. A man whose passion for money runs 
high bids fair for being no patriot. And he 
likewise whose appetite is keen for power. 

4. A native than a foreigner, a married 
man than a bachelor, a believer than an infi- 
del, has a better chance for being a patriot. 

5. It is impossible an epicure should be 
a patriot. 

6. It is impossible a man who cheats at 
cards, or cogs the dice, should be a patriot 

7. It is impossible a man who is false to 
his fiiends and neighbors should be true to 
the public. 

8. Every knave is a thorough knave. 
And a thorough knave is a knave through- 

9. A man who hath no sense of God or 
conscience: would you make such a one 
guardian to your child ? If not, why guard- 
ian to the state ? 

10. A sot, a beast, benumbed and stupe- 
fied by excess, is good for nothing, much 
less to make a patriot of. 

11. A fop or man of pleasure makes but 
a scurvy patriot 

12. A sullen churlish man, who loves no- 
body, will hardly love his country. 

13. The love of praise and esteem may 
do something ; but to make a true patriot 
there must be an inward sense of duty and 

14. Honesty (like other things) grows 
from its proper seed, good principles early 
laid in the mind. 

15. To be a real patriot, a man must 
consider his countrymen as God's creatures, 
and himself as accountable for his acting to- 
wards them. 

16. K pro arts et fods be the life of pat- 

riotism, he who hath no religion or no home 
makes a suspected patriot. 

17. No man perjures himself for the take 
of conscience. 

18. There is an easy way of reconciling 
malcontents — Sunt verba et voces quUnu 
kunc lenire dolorem^ <kc 

19. A good groom will rather stroke than 

20. He who saith there is no such thing 
as an honest man, you may be sure is him- 
self a knave. 

21. I have no opinion of your bumper 
patriots. Some eat, some drink, some quar- 
rel for their country. Modern Patriotism ! 

22. Ibycus is a carking, griping, close- 
fisted fellow. It is odds that ibycus is not a 

23. We are not to think every clamorous 
haranguer, or every splenetic repiner against 
a court, is therefore a patriot. 

24. A patriot is one who heartily wisheth 
the public prosperity, and doth not only 
wish, but also study and endeavor to pro- 
mote it 

25. Gamesters, rakes, fops, bullies, stock- 
jobbers : alas I what pabiots ! 

26. Some writers have thought it impos- 
sible that men should be brought to laugh 
at pubHc spirit Yet this hath been done 
in the present age. 

27. The patriot aims at his private good 
in the pubUc The knave makes the public 
subservient to his private interest. The 
former considers himself as part of a whole, 
the latter considers himself as the whole. 

28. There is and ever will be a natural 
strife between court and country. The one 
will get as much, and the other ^ve as little, 
as it can. How must the patriot behave 

29. He gives the necessary. K he gives 
more, it is with a view of gaining more to 
his country. 

30. A patriot will never barter the pub- 
lic money for his private gain. 


Ifeght^ AfMcn. 


81. Moral ev3 is nevor to be committed; 
jklqrsical evil may be incurred, either to 
avoid a greater evil, or to procure a eood. 

82. Where the heart » right, were is 
trne patriotism. 

33. In jonr man of business, it is easier 
to meet with a good head than a good 

34. A patriot will admit there may be 
honest men, and that honest men may 

35. He that always blames, or always 
pndsea, is no patriot 

86. Were all sweet and sneakmg cour^ 
fien^ or were all sour malcontents; in 

either case die pobiie would thriye but 

87. A patriot would hardly wish there 
was no contrast in the state. 

88. Ferments of the worst kind succeed 
to perfect inaction. 

89. A man rages, rails, and raves ; I sus' 
pect his patriotism. 

40. llie Owning courtier and the suily 
squire often mean the same thing, each lua 
own interest 

41. A patriot will esteem no man for be- 
ing of his party. 

42. The factious man is apt to mif 
himself for a patriot 


ooHTAnnmi sivxaAL QuxanB fbofosxd to tbb oQRBiDBuiioir of tbm tubuo. 

Qa. 1. Whxtheb there ever was, is, or 
irfK be, an industrious nation poor, or an 

2. Whether a people can be called poor, 
iriiere the ccHnmon scNTt are well fed, dothed, 

S. Whether the drift and aim of every 
wise state should not be, to encourage in- 
dustry in its members? And, whether 
thofie who employ neither heads nor hands 
ibr the common benefit, deserve not to be 
€ipelled like drones out of a well-governed 

4. Whether the four elements, and man's 
labor therein, b» not the true source of 

5. Whether money bo not only so far 
Useful, as it stirrcth up industry, enabling 
men mutually to participate the fruits of 
each other's labor ? 

6. Whether any other means, equally 
oooducing to excite and circulate the indas- 
tiy of mankind, may not be as useful as 

7. Whether the real end and aim of men 
be not power ? And whether he who could 
bave every thing else at his wish or will, 
would value money? 

8. Whether the public aim in every 
weU-govemed state be not, that each mem- 
ber, according to his just pretensions and in 
dostry, should have power ? 

9. Whether power be not referred to ac- 

tion; and whether action doth not Mow 
appetite or will t 

10. Whether fashion doth not create iqp* 
petites; and whether the prevailing will of 
a nation is not the &shion t 

11. Whether the current of industry and 
commerce be not determined by this pre* 
vailing will ? 

12. Whether it be not owing to custom, 
that the fashions are agreeable ? 

13. Whether it may not concern the 
wisdom of the legislature to interpose, in 
the making of fashions ; and not leave an 
affair of so great influence to the manage- 
ment of women and fops, tailors and vint- 

14. Whether reasonable fashions are a 
greater restraint on freedom than those 
which are imreasonable ? 

16. Whether a general good taste in a 
people would not greatly conduce to their 
thriving ? And whether an uneducated 
gentry be not the greatest of national evils t 

16. Whether customs and fashions do 
not supply the j)laco of reason in the vulgar 
of all ranks ? Whether, therefore, it doth 
not very much import that they should be 
wisely framed ? 

17. Whether the imitating those neigh- 
bors in our fashions, to whom wo bear no 
-likeness in our circumstances, be not one 
cause of distress to this nation ? 

18. Whether frugal fashions in the upper 


Neglected Authors. 


rank, and comfortable living in the lower, 
be not the means to multiply inhabitants ? 

19. Whether the creating of wants be 
not the likeliest way to produce industry in 
a people? And whether, if our peasants 
were accustomed to eat beef and wear shoes, 
th^y would not be more industrious ? 

20. Whether other things be given, as 
climate, soil, <fec., the wealth be not propor- 
tioned to the industry, and this to the circu- 
lation of credit, be the credit circulated or 
transferred by what marks or tokens soever ? 

21. Whether, therefore, less money, 
swiftly circulating, be not, in effect, equiva- 
lent to more money slowly circulating ? Or, 
whether, if the circulation be reciprocally as 
the quantity of coin, the nation can be a 

22. Whether money is to be considered 
as having an intrinsic value, or as being a 
commodity, a standard, a measure, or a 
pledge, as is variously suggested by writers ? 
And whether the true idea of money, as 
such, be not altogether that of a ticket or 
counter ? 

23. Whether the value or price of things 
be not a compounded proportion, directly 
as the demand, and reciprocally as the 

24. Whether the terms crown, livre, 
pound sterling, <fec., are not to be considered 
as exponents or denominations of such pro- 
portion ? And whether gold, silver, and pa- 
per, are not tickets or counters for reckon- 
ing, recording, and transferring thereof? 

25. Whether the denominations being 
retained, although the bullion were gone, 
things might not nevertheless be rated, 
bought and sold, industry promoted, and a 
circulation of commerce maintained ? 

26. Whether an equal raising of all 
sorts of gold, silver and copper coin, can 
have any effect in bringing money into the 
country ? And whether altering the pro- 
portions between the several sorts can have 
any other effect but multiplying one kind 
and lessening another, without any increase 
of the sum total ? 

27. Whether arbitrary changing the de- 
nomination of coin be not a public cheat ? 

28. What makes a wealthy people? 
Whether mines of gold and silver are capa- 
ble of doing this ? And whether the ne- 
groes, amidst the gold sands of Africa, are 
not poor and destitute ? 

29. Whether there be any virtue in gold 
and silver, other than as they set people at 
work, or create industry ? 

30. Whether it be not the opinion or will 
of the people, exciting them to industry, 
that truly enricheth a nation ? And whether 
this doth not principally depend on the 
means for counting, transferring, and preserv- 
ing power, that is, property of all kinds ? 

31. Whether current bank-notes may not 
be deemed money ? And whether they are 
not actually the greater part of the money 
of this kingdom ? 

32. Provided the wheels move, whether 
it is not the same thing, as to the effect of 
the machine, bo this done by the force of 
wind, or water, or ammals ? 

33. Whether power to command the in- 
dustiy of others be not real wealth ? And 
whether money be not in truth, tickets or 
tokens for conveying and recording such 
power, and whether it be of great conse- 
quence what materials the tickets are made 

34. Whether trade, either foreign or do- 
mestic, be in truth any more than this com- 
merce of industry ? 

36. Whether to promote, transfer, and 
secure, this commerce, and this property in 
human labor, or, in other words, this power, 
be not the sole means of enriching a people, 
and how far this may be done independently 
of gold and silver ? 

36. Whether it were not wrong to sup- 
pose that land itself to be wealth ? And 
whether the industry of the people is not 
first to be considered, aa that which consti- 
tutes wealth, which makes even land and 
silver to be wealth, neither of which would 
have any vaiue, but as means and motives 
to industry? 


Meredith Demaitttre. 






It was the second hour after midnight, 
when Mr. Meredith Demaistre entered the 
very latest of the hundred carriages which 
had stopped the way before the elegant 
mansion of the Tipptoflfe, in the most 
lonable avenue of New- York. A hidy in a 
white ball-dress appeared at tlie same instant 
at the window of the parlor. Mr. Demais- 
tre, as if di\ining the possibility of such an 
apparition, checked the coachman for an in- 
stant, and sprang out quickly to catch a 
rose which her fair hand threw to him. lie 
lows profoundly ; the lady retifcs from the 
irindow; the coach rolls away. The lady 
returns, and leaning out into the warm 
night air, looks earnestly after the carriage 
and listens long to the thunder of the retiring 
wheels, as they sound along the hollow streets. 

The gas lights have been shut off in the 
house, and the vast rooms would be quitt^ 
darkened were it not that tlio glare of a street 
light casts a ruddy effulgence along the 
(tainted c^eilings and the towering wall**, 
revealing imjK'rfectly the mirrored elegance 
of a modem citizen's j)alace. llie adorn- 
ments of these rooms, as we are able to see 
them by the dim light that streams into the 
remoter darkness, are of the rarest and most 
judicious order ; their designing and choice, 
evidently by some master of tit<«te arfd fj trill- 
ion. Pic*turcs of a grand and sombre charac- 
ter, originals of the more luxurious artists of 
the modem German and Belgian seh<x>ls, 
those sole possessors in our day of the secret 
of color and chiar* oscuro, occupy the 
spaces of the walls, alternating with a few 
broad mirrors set in marble. The carj)ets 
of large and simple figures, liannoniously 
tut soberly tinted, assist the colors of the 
hea\7 curtains, and velvet-covered furniture. 
The rooms are pro\ided, but not crowded, 
with elegant conveniences for sitting and 
reclining, which, more than all other lux- 
uries, discover the tact and sensuosity of the 
modem taste. Objects of virtu rest here 


and there in convenient niches. A few 
small, but exquisitely finished statues on 
scagliola pedestals, a table in a comer, cov- 
ered with engravings, doubtless of great 
raritv and value, — so much mav be seen in 
the imperfect light: — what else might be 
discovered by the broad light of a hundred 
jets of gas, we leave to the \'\\\d and minute 
imagination of our reader. 

But the business of the novelist is with 
persons and their actions, and not with fiu*- 
niture, be it even the luxurj- of kings, or the 
more comfortable splendor of merchants. 

Tlie lady, on retreating frc»m the window, 
threw herself ]>assionately into the angle of 
a sofa, at the other extreme of which sat 
her husband, whose short figure relieved it- 
self obscurely against the dusky velvet. In 
the dimness one could hardly discern it 

A something worse than ennui, a feeling 
of exhaustion and of total di8aj)pointment, 
seemed to possess them. Tlie lady, whom 
the reader will hereafter j»lease to recognize 
as "the fair," or "tlu* elegant," or "the 
witty,'' or "the fas<.-inating," or possibly, if 
it should so happen, (IL'aveu only knows,) 
the *' inifortunate and much to be comj)as- 
sionated Mrs. Tij)ptoff,"' — ])atted the caqn-t 
nervously, but languidly and slowly, with 
her little satin-clad foot. Her husband, 
known jus "old Tipi.toti*," or "Dick Tipp- 
tofi;" or "riehDiekTipptiC with a note 
of interrogation aihld, — the wealth of that 
Very old family having been for years on the 
declining side of fortune, — sat gazing into 
vacancy, with an air Ix'tween th<' hateful 
weariness that follows forced mirth and too 
much wine, and the distressed anxiety of a 
man who is following his furniture to an 
auction, or his counsel to tlie j'resence of a 
prejudiced jur}'. 

1 should have remarked, that immecliately 
on her withdrawal from the window, a ser- 
vant entered and j^laerd a small Chinese 
table, suj "porting a lx)ttle of brandy, a silver 
water pitcher, and two candles, (one of them 
lighted,) Nifore Tipptoff ; with the addi- 
tamentum of a boot-jack, and a pair of yel- 


Meredith Demaistrey 


low slippers, on the carpet. Tipptoff, the 
knowing reader will surmise, had been once 
a bachelor, old and of fixed habits. He 
was now a married man, not a day younger, 
and with very nearly the same habits. 

The self-disgust of a social failure sick- 
ened the leathery visage of the old gentle- 
man, as he poured out a glass of brandy 
for himself, and, rather oddly, invited his 
pretty wife to drink with him. The tearful 
vexation of disappointed vanity, and perhaps 
the grief of some other passion, pouted the 
dewy ig|», and paled the swelling cheeks of 
bis spouse. The pair gazed blankly but not 
angrily at each other, and then at the bottle. 
" Dick, my dear," sighed the lady, " I think 
I will take a httle." 

The old gentleman had evidently forgot- 
ten himself when he offered the brandy to 
his wife, and her acceptance of it discom- 
posed him. Had it been hot brandy punch, 
with lemon in it, or any lady-hke prepara- 
tion of brandy, he would have thought noth- 
. ing of it ; but his ideas of feminine dehcacy 
forbade his wife so rude and mascuUne a drink 
as the mere bachelor's brandy-and-water. 
The impropriety of the thing struck him on 
the instant. Filled even to bursting with a 
previous choler and disquiet, it needed but 
a drop more to make a foaming efferves- 
cence in his inner man. But Dick Tipp- 
toff was a gentleman of delicate education, — 
would sooner kick his horse, or shave his 
whiskers, than speak harshly to a lady. The 
most he could do was to set down the glass 
untasted, get up against the table, overturn- 
ing it with a crash, damn himself slightly, 
and walk dii-ectly out of the room, shutting 
the door shaq^ly behind him, and leaving 
Mrs. T. in darkness. 

The crash and uproar occasioned by the 
violent upsetting, and the exodus of her 
spouse, having subsided, the unhappy Mrs. 
Tipptoff burst into a sharp paroxysm of weep- 
ing. Covering her face with her hands, she 
rocked her fragile figure to and fro, with 
many sobs and deep-drawn sighs, while the 
big droi)s burst from between her squeezed 
and aching eyehds. The words, " cruel 
man," " kind Meredith," " horrid Squabbs," 
"nasty people," and a variety of broken 
expressions, indicative of a tumult of mixed 
emotions, burst in harsh whispers from her 
lips. Mrs. T. was to a certainty, profoundly 
agitated : — the dark side of her life had 
tui'ned up to her view, with a sudden and 

surprising distinctness. After a time, how- 
ever, kind nature came to her solace in the 
shape of that gentle follower of grie^ the 
quiet and beneficent sleep. The beautiful 
head of curls no longer waved to and fro, in 
starts of agony, and soon fell sideways 
and drooped on either side the white wrist 
that rested on the velvet arm of the sofa. A 
soft breathing, interrupted only by a dreamy 
catching of the breath, as though sorrow 
was not wholly mastered, even by sleep, an- 
nounced that the deUcate and uiihappy Mrs. 
Tipptoff had decKned into a state of obliv- 
ion, and for this hour at least escaped from 
vanity and care. And now, with softest 
music let us close the scene. 



At the fireside of the Squabbs, on the 
contrary, there was an atmosphere of exul- 
tation. Mr. Squabb, Mrs. Squabb, Miss 
Emeline Ginevra Squabb, and the two httle 
Squabblings, the snobby brothers, were in a 
perfect gale. " Was there ever such a vic- 
tory?" screamed the mother. "Never!" 
shrilled the daughter. " Never," growled old 
Squabb, yawning and falling back in his chair. 
" Never," laughed the two snobby Squabb- 
hng youths, simultaneously plunging their 
pale fat hands into the pockets of their sacks. 
"Never," shouted all in chorus. "Such 
a splendid affair," languished Miss Emeline 
Ginevra. " Such an expensive one," groaned 
Mr. S. " Such a well got-up thing, and all 
for us, my dear," concluded Mrs. S., nodding 
smilingly at her daughter. 

A period of silence ensued, during which 
the entire family, looking from one to another, 
allowed their satisfaction to expand itself in 
knowing glances. The Squabbs were a fat 
family; their complexions shone with Wit- 
ness. At this epoch in their history, which 
may be marked as the culmination of their 
mortal fehcity, they had attained that ripe- 
ness of person which follows a long course 
of pleasure and easy hving, before the disap- 
pointments and chagrins of fashionable life 
had begun to break in upon that continuity 
of countenance which marks the happy and 
the dull. The Squabbs were grown rich, 
and from a hopeless obscurity had risen upon 
an opulent wave to the fix)thy summit of 


The Pet of the Parvenus. 


notoriety. A palace in a grand street, a 
scarlet-lined coach, and a liveried footman, 
had turned the Squabbs into gods. Nectar 
and ambrosia they drank and ate — the 
nectar of congratulation, and the ambrosia 
of servile homage from their less fortunate 

The statue of Hercules on the mantel- 
piece struck the second hour after midnight, 
and just at the very moment when i)oor 
Mrs. Tipptoff dropped asleep in her lonely 
parlor, Mr. Squabb jerked out a large 
jewelled Tobias, and began dreamily in- 
specting the £ace. At the same instant Mrs. 
Sw pulled out a very tliin Lopine from her 
girdle; Miss EmeUne Gine\Ta produced a 
still thinner one from hers ; the Iavo Squabb- 
ling youths each betrayed another; and 
the circle of fat faces, from gazing at each 
other, were turned complacently and yawn- 
ingly upon their watches. " There is nigh 
upon a thousand dollars' worth of watches 
among us, my dear," remarked Mr. S. gravely, 
putting up his time-keeper ; " and for me, 
though I say nothing, I think it a heavy 
investment in that kind of property." 

" Was not money, papa, made tor spend- 
ing ?" murmured Emeline Ginevra, as she 
slid her tiny Lepine into its nest near her 

"Judiciously, my daughter," added the 
mother. ** Judiciously," nodde<l the father ; 
and " Judiciously " winked the fat eyes of the 
over-dressed Squabblings. Tliore was a 
perfect unanimity of sentiment on this point 
also, and another happy silence followed, 
daring which the author will silently with- 
draw die reader and introduce him abruptly 
to a third and more imposing fiiction or 
party in this drama of society. 



In her boudoir, attended by her natty 
Swiss waiting-maid, who wjis divesting her 
portly mistress of a gorgeous satin ball- 
dress, sat Mrs. Tibbs, the wealthy widow of 
Washington Tibbs, Esq., of metropolitan 
notoriety. Mrs. Tibbs, sitting before her 
mirror, had laid aside her curls, and eke 
her wig, and discovered a smooth cranium 
of a very blue color, rising in the middle 
over the forehead, like the pyramidal cover 
of a china sugar bowl, a sugar bowl cui 

lumen ademptum^ that is to say, with knob 
broken ofif. Speaking with her customary 
decision, " Llsette," said the lady, — the maid 
was instantly at her elbow, and stood in the 
attitude of fearful attention, — *' Lisette, bring 
me my miniature." 

The miniature was brought. 

" Lisette, ol)serve it closely." It was closely 
observed. " Would you take it for a portrait 
of me I I was but twenty when that was 
taken. The artist was one of the few who 
never flatter, lie told me that he esteemed 
a good conscience above money and fame." 

" Beautifool," exclaimed Lisette — "deli- 
cieuse, and as like Madame as I am hke 
moim^me, mesel. I see ver leetle change in 
your ladyship, mon Dieu !" 

" Lisette, you must not call me ladyship. 
Titles are not used in America. A lady is 
indeed a lady ever}'where," sighed Mrs. 
Tibbs ; " but the odious prejudices of the 
mob ! how I hate the mob ! Lisette, do you 
have vulgar people in your country ? " 

"Oui, Madame, many English Hve in 
Swisserland: they dress badly, tres vul- 

"And yet, Lisette, England is a very 
aristocratical countiy." 

" Ah ! oui, tres bien ! Madame — ver 
reoch ; but the English have not elegance 
et liboralite 6gal to some in Amoriquc. Ame- 
rigans ladies trus fine, delicatcs. Amerigan 
gentilhomiiies dross more bettre, more 
fine. Ah ! dcre is in l^roadwav one air de 
Paris, only ver dirty, vill I say nastie ?" 

** Nasty Is the word, Lisette. Have you 
pigs in Swisserland, Lisette ?" 

** Oui, Madame. Mon Dieu ! here is 
grease pot cnorme on votre ladyship's brocade 
clre^, blanche. Ah, mon Dieu, it is dreadful." 
So saying, the assiduous Lisette, who, during 
this dialogue, had glided into the closet and 
brought out the garment in question, held 
up before the eyes of her purblind mistress a 
portion of the sleeve. 

" Take it, Lisette, I shall have no further 
use for it. And now toll mo something 
more, some anccdoto of the lady you s(*rved 

in Swisserland, the Landgravine what 

was Iior name ?" 

" The Landgravine Schnotsendauben, 

" What a name, Lisette ! A great lady, 
you said." 

" Oui, une grande dame^ tc^s boUe,. 
an reech, ver reech." 


Meredith Demaistre, 


Mrs. Tibbs glanced at the mirror, sighed 
and bridled. 

"Lisette, bring my night-dress. Had 
the lady many admirers ?" 

" Amants, dit Madame ? Pour mie Land- 
gravine, tees not permis. Chevalier servante 
de mon maitress, Signor Bug, gentilhomme 
Roman, vid vot you tell, ooisker, tres grand 
moustace on hees cheek." 

" His lip, Lisette ; the mustacio is worn 
upon the lip. You have seen Mr. Demais- 

"Eh bien! and feel him too," said the 
girl quickly ; but her mistress did not under- 
stand, or did not hear, for she added : 

"Mr. Demaistre's mustacio is elegant. 
But tell me, Lisette, what is the duty of a 
chevalier servante? I thought the enter- 
iaining of that kind of follower a very anti' 
quated custom." 

"Antiquated, dit Madame? Non, tr^s 
modem, au contraire. II porte — he carry de 
fan — ^he carry de dog — he carry eberyding. 
Monsieur Bug carry Madame too, an I 
detect ; Monsieur Bug call me kammerkat — I 
turn away ma maitress, an come to Ame- 

" A very improper person, Lisette, to be 
seen with a lady." 

"Vraiment, to be seen; Monsieur Bug 
vas proper, neanraois — an for me I say 
noting, but he give insult — not like Monsieur 
Demaistre, who is polaite." 

The lady's curiosity to leara something 
farther touching the important relationship 
of a fashionable gentleman follower to a 
lady of rank in Europe, had well nigh over- 
come her discretion, when the arrival of an 
elegant billet-doux, directed in the hand- 
writing of her favorite, Demaistre, gave a 
new turn to her thoughts. The note was 
as follows : — 

Mx Dear Madam, — 

The arrival at your house of your niece, 
3iis8 "Winter, during my tedious absence, gives me 
.ao. opportunity of ehowmg my devotion to yourself 
by giving her some amusement I have a little 
absurd pique to gratify against that young lady, 
and I wish to give you both a pleasant surprise. 
Let me have a carte blanche to give what private 
orders I plea«e, to your housekeeper, for to-morrow 


And believe me ever. 

Your devoted and loving 


P. %, ISie trifle inclosed is a table-diamond, a 
variety you :£aid you b&d not seen. 

The amiable ease of the note, and the 
splendor of the jewelled ring which it con- 
tained, excited a powerful emotion of pleasure 
in the bosom of the widow, and immediately 
she called for her beautiful miniature writing 
desk, itself a gift from the same tasteful 
admirer, and before retiring to her couch, 
indited, in a bold, masculine hand, the fol- 
lowing reply : — 

MoN Cher Demaistre, — 

I shall drive to-morrow out of town, and 
pass the day with the Timpkinses. My house, mean- 
while, is at your service. Make any arrangements 
you please. I will send out a few invitations. 
Let the evening be literary and artistic Miaa 
Winter is so. We will have music and conversa- 
tion. Send a list of persons whom you wish to 
have invited. 

Yours very truly, 
Patty Alice Dentzv Washington Tibbs. 

P. S. The diamond is very fine. Do not ask me 
to wear it It is a vanity, though an elegant one. 
I shall send for Hum and Strum, the two German 
pianists, and for Chokey and Spondee, the new 
poets, so much talked of. What odd names 
these artists have 1 W. T. 



Mrs. Kolltater, the lady of the Snob 
House, a well-known private hotel, or pubhc 
boarding-house in Broadway, sat at dinner, at 
the head of her long table, looking down 
along her ranks of eaters, with a calculating 
expression. By close observation and long 
experience in her business, this dispenser of 
" all the comforts and privileges of a private 
family" had acquired a knack at valuing 
men and women by certain external signs. 
By the general air and manner of a stranger, 
she could foretell, with tolerable accuracy, 
not only how much he would eat, but how 
long he would be likely to pay for what he 
ate. Her favorable regards were distributed 
upon those who ate little and pfud punctu- 

On the present occasion, however, a quiet 
observer might have detected a remarkable 
departure, in Mrs. Kolltater, from her usual 
course of favor ; for in the seedy coat and ca- 
lamitous countenance of Mr. Bob Jenkins, — 
Jenkins the toper — Jenkins the penny-a- 
liner, — what was there to call out a smile on 
the face of an experienced landlady ? Jen- 
kins was, in feict, surprised at it himself; it 


The Pet of the Parvenus. 


even exdted in bia bosom a vague feeling 
of alarm. Retunifai|^ the unexpected smile 
with a grim recogriftion, he laid down his 
knife and fork, and considered in his dear 
heart, as Homer would say, what might be 
the cause; and whether bitter Fate bad 
anything in store for him, more dreadful 
than what he had already suffered. 

To the gentleman at his elbow, however, 
who had observed the landlady's demonstra- 
tion, it seemed quite proper, and a th .ng to 
be expected. This was no less a character 
than the well and widely kno>vn Meredith 
Demaistre, equally noted for the elegance of 
his hair and the audacity of his manners. 

Every assembly of men, be it an assembly 
only for eating, has its groat man, or sover- 
eign />ro tern, Mr. Meredith Damaistre, al- 
ready somewhat known to the reader, was 
the sovereign j9ro tern, of Mrs. Kolltater's din- 
ner table. Now this autocrat of sirloins 
had signified to the landlady that it would 
gratify him to have Jenkins at his elbow, at 
table ; where, accordingly, said Jenkins was 
seated ; and very rightly and naturally our 
dinner autocrat attributed the above de- 
scribed dispensat'on to a reflection of his 
own importonce from the person of Jenkins 
in the eyes of the landlady. 

The diners had retired from the table, ex- 
cepting Jenkins and his fashionable friend. 
Ordering sherry for his own gla<«, and brandy 
for his companion's, Demaistre threw hims^elf 
into an attitude of intimate conversation, 
leaning over, and occasionally striking the 
table with his right hand. 

" You were speaking," said his compan- 
ion, pouring out a liberal driiught from the 
decanter, " of that affair at the Tipptoffs." 

" Ah !" exclaimed Demaistre, in his usual 
low, flute-like tone, — " a more elegant affair 
than that. But the devil is in those Tii)ptoffs ; 
with all their advantages and prido to boot ; 
with the best manners, ; nd a capital art of 
entertainment In fact they work for others. 
Observe now — a man of some sense, known 
in very good company, and suj^posed to bo 
rich, becomes an object of maternal anxiety 
in the bosoms of a dozen or twenty highly 
respectable families — in fact, to be plain, the 
idol of a good set. Very good. Now t/ou, 
Jenkins, happen to know, that I, the rich 
Meredith Demaistre, (ha ! ha !) am precisely 
the individual indicated. It were idle to 
attempt modesty with a man of your pene- 
tration ; bat there is one thing which I will 

throw in, by way of warning : — ^My riches, 
you know, are purely in expectation. I am 
a near relative, the only surviving relative 
of the old pill-vender 13obus. Very good. 
I am rich, as we say, in expectation. That 
is to say, I intend to marry a great deal of 
real and personal property, now in the pos- 
session of the venerable widow Wa«^hington 
Tibbs. As for uncle Bobus, he will never 
leave me a penny. The old fellow intends 
endowing a hospital by way of indemnifica- 
tion to mankind, for having slain so many 
with his wicked nostrum. The idea of leav- 
inof me a fortune never occurred to him. 
But I grow tedious." 

" Not at all," gasped Jenkins, with a look 
of infinite curiosity, and decanting a second 
glass of brandy. " Not at all ; go on, in the 
d — I's name." 

"That," replied the other quickly, "is 
preciselv the name in which I intend to go 
on. ]^ow for this affair at the Tipptoffs. 
You must know the widow Washington 
Wiggs or Tibbs is decidedly taken with my 
person. The widow does not dance, but 
she talks wonderfully, and so does your 
humble servant. By talking I carried the 
widow — took her by storm. It was at this 
exquisite supper-i)arty at TipptofTs — the 
most elegant thing! There was a room 
frescoed for the occasion ; the most perfect 
taste in the outlay ! Your hunr.ble servant 
planned the thing, and brought Mrs. Tipp- 
tolf into it. The widow Wa^^hinjrton was 
made to think that the wh -Ic had been got 
up to phrase her. The Squabbs labored 
under a similar delusion in roffard to them- 
selves. Only your humble servant knew 
the object of this pieco of folly, which cost 
Tipptoff and his wife some five* thousand dol- 
lars, including the making up of specie into 
plate ; thero was the vastest profusion — costly 
wines, pictures, opera-singing, the house 
thrown open, filled with eveiy luxury and 
everything to ])lease. In short, a most ele- 
gant affair, and not above a hundred per- 
sons present ! The most select; in short, not 
one married person under a hundred thou- 
sand, and full ten over half a million, sup- 
posed. Squabb thought it a good time, 
where capital was so well represented, to 
organize a bank ; and I verily believe the 
dozen or so of red-faced plums that were 
present, would have called a meeting and 
fallen to business, had not their circle been 
broken in upon by a vigoroas assault from 


Meredith Demaistre^ 


Mrs. Washington Wig|»8 — confound it, I 
mean Tibb^, who led off Squabb to stare at a 
piece of ancient china, which he mistook for 
a petritied monkey. 

" 1 have said that both the Squabbs and 
the widow fancied the occasion their own. 
The widow, who is fat, and walks heavily, 
withdrew into a recess, and entertained a 
circle of her admirers with a lecture on 
phrenology and the Greek Slave. Your 
humble servant was called upon for a touch 
of the aisthetic, and taste being the order 
of the day, 1 gave the widow a definition 
of taste, which threw her into a perspira- 
tion of delight. * Taste,' said I, ' my dear 
madam, is a thing' — * Wrong, Demaistre,' 
aaid she. (She admires my surname — ^it is 
important to have a good name, and when 
one may be picked out of any directory, I 
see no reason why a gentleman seeking his 
fortune should not choose the best My old 
name, you know, was Sneak, Judas Sneak, — 
a horrible name ; I changed it. It went be- 
fore me like a bad reputation, and I never 
prospered while I had it.) But I digress. 

* Wrong,' said she, * Demaistre, wrong ! Taste 
is a sentiment, not a thing.' * True, madam,' 
said I, bowing under the correction ; * taste 
is, indeed, more a person than a thing.' 

* Wrong again, Demaistre,' said she, still 
harping on my name ; ' taste is not a person, 
neither.' * Ah ! madam,' said I, sighing, and 
giving her a delicate glance, * taste is surely 
a person, and no less a person than Mrs. 
Washington Tibbs : she is taste itself.' " 

" Very gross," remarked Jenkins. 

" Which, the lady or the compliment ?" 

"That," re.^ponded Jenkins, "depends on 
her way of taking it." 

" She took it as a cat laps milk ; as a man 
of no credit tiikes a good endorsement The 
widow is a lady of great humility and the 
most aspiring pride, ller reverence for a 
great or learned name is equalled only by 
her personal haughtiness and ambition. 
Now, she looks upon your humble servant 
as not only a man of family, rich in hope, 
and an aristocrat, but as a person of unhm- 
ited acquirements, and perfect discrimina- 
tion. In short, the widow is a sure card. 
But I must marry soon, or some vile acci- 
dent will mar all." 

Jenkins finished a third glass of brandy 
and water, and a desultory chat of some min- 
utes ensued, during which our adventurer 
amused himself with shuffling over a heap of 

invitations which be dtfw (rom his pocket- 
book. As he read the flfeies half soliloqidz- 
ing, his companion keprup a running com- 
mentary, for Jenkins was a man who had 
seen better days, and had been a diner out, 
knew evi^rybody's business and reputation in 
the city. 

" Jacks ?" said Demaistre, half question- 
ino: the name from a card. 

" Jacks ? A stock-broker," said the other, 
half answering, lialf soliloquizing. " Jacob 
Jacks, grandson of the old apple woman on 
St P — 's. A drug dealer, very rich; has 
failed six times, here and elsewhere, by this 
light ; a very low dog ; his large family, all 
girls, inherit the scrofiiila and rheumatism, 
contracted by the old woman from cold 
victuals and damp seats, to say nothing of a 
filthier inheritance of vulgarity and pride." 

"Cottle?" (another card.) 

" Aye, aye, Dick Cottle, comer of Broad- 
way and Jaundice street, formerly; now 
De Damm Place — nothing less. His house 
is a solid mass of absurdity, a blunder im- 
mortalized in brick. It cost him a hun- 
dred thousand, they say. A mere selfish 
jug, that fellow; lus ears are narrow slits 
through which you may drop in brass coin 
of flattery enough, but deuce a compliment 
will you ever get out of him, until his day 
envelope is cracked, and then there will be a 
soul found dried and shrunk, like the kernel 
of a bad nut. This Dick Cottle invited me 
to dine with him once, in a quiet way, and 
when all was done, there was only a turkey 
without sauce, cold potatoes and cheap port. 
A miserable dog, worth half a million, and a 
very bad judge of port. Avoid him." 

" Partridge ?" (another card.) 

" That's fat Peter, I know him well. Very 
good eater, but fond of soup ; the veriest 
cheat in creation. Peter is one of those 
happy, good-humored rascals who go smil- 
ing through the world, with the best inten- 
tions, though frequently unable to repay a 
loan, or meet an obhgation ; and yet by 
some secret arrangement with Providence, 
perpetually rolhng in luxury, — wine, women, 
horses, dinners, — while honest dogs, like me, 
who must look sheepish when they can't 
pay, live unappreciated. By Heaven, FU 
have a new scheme of the moral sentiments, 
with the part of Hamlet — 'I mean con- 
science — omitted.' ' 

" Gudginson ?" (another card.) 

" That's Jonas Gudginson ; onoe a fish- 


Ths Pet (^ tike ParmnMS. 


tnoMD^ then a iMnker ; and the banks from 
nhidk he drew his profits were, first and 
hsti sand banks. His business now is, to 
'own a few houses,' for which, he affect- 
edly says, * he gets nothing but his board 
and lodging, and travelling expenses.' I 
never set eyes on the fishy &ce of that 
same Gudginson (his real name was origin- 
ally Gudgins) without marvelling at the 
dispensations of Providence, which confer 
poverty and scorn upon wits and men of 
sense, and fortune and pride upon idiots. 
Madam G., a dressed-up fishmonger's wife, 
is Snobbery's goddess — extremely dressy, 
spends, it is said; a thousand a year in adorn- 
ing her fishy person. But it won't do ; all 
the rose-water in Snobdom won't wash off 
the smell of mackerel" 

''Come, come, Jenkins," said Demaistre, 
«Joring, and speaking in a very serious tone, 
''yoii grow severe. The institutions of this 
coimtiy, you know, &vor all men equally." 

" I deny it, sir," responded Jenkins, breath- 

a; a fierce and melancholy sigh ; "• they fai^or 
y the low-born and the dull." 

''But what," said the other, ''have you 
■ and I to say against that ?" 

"Pardon me, Mr. Demaistre; I trace my 
origm to one of the early settlers of New- 
Jene^,— a man, sir, whose genealogy runs 
back mto the days of William the Conqueror. 
Mj ancestors fought against the Henrys and 
Edwards, in tlie wars of Wales." 

" And mine, for aught I know, fought 
a^nst Leviathan in the wars of whales. 
What folly is this? My grandfather, the 
reritaSle Jed-diah Snoak, of Sneakville, Con- 
necticut, sold ruin, and molasses, and notion**, 
to countf}' lout8 ; but for all that, 1 am Mere- 
dith D.^maistre, E^., and shall marry a for- 
tune. My dear Jenkins, there is a fault in 
your organization : you lack assurance. As- 
surance is better than pride. It is an easy, 
flexible virtue — shall I say — that fits itself to 
every situation and condition. But this old- 
fitthioned lumber of family pride that you 
carry about with you. Is a barren property, 
held by a doubtful record, that requires con- 
fitant vigilancr", and is subject to a heavy 
tax of time and idleness." 

** Ah I ha r replied the other, with a sneer, 
* I perceive, that together with his aristocrati- 
eai name, our friend Judas Sneak, Esq., 
adoptpd a high moral tone !" 

** No : under favor," said the other, ** you 
mii^ake me. I have a strong interest in 

your wel&re, and meant only to give a friend 
a httle kind advice " 

"Very well, let that go," said Jenkins, 
sullenly. " Now for the jHpptc^ : what of 
them r 

" To proceed, then, you must know that 
this affiur at 11ppt(^s was got up alto- 
gether at my suggestion. The T.'s, you 
know, are on the down-hill side of &shion — a 
little seedy, bearing the usual fruits of too long 
a continuance in folly — ^friends dropping o$ 
invitations neglected, &c &c Said I, ad- 
dressing Mrs. T., ' My dear inadam, ifor a 
lady as weU qualified as yourself to make 

a figure, nay, to lead in society in 

short, madam, words are poor to express 
what I mean.' I paused. ' Ah ! Demaistre," 
said she, with tears in her eyes, ' Upptoflf ia 
well meaning, but too timid, and, I fear, not 
aufait^ 'True,' said I hesitatingly, 'your 
husband is a good fellow, very; but you 
are aware one should have cultivation, should 
have been early tnined in society.' " 

"Did you say that!" growled Jenkins; 
" you, who passed the first eighteen years of 
your life ^" 

"Hush! let me go on. 'One should 
have been early trained,' says I. ' Taste 
is a thing given more by society and cul- 
ture than by nature. Your husband has 
fine aristocratical elements of character ; nor 
can the man whom you have condesccMided 

to marry be supposed '* *Out, villain! 

you flatter,' says she, with a prettily affected 
indignation. * Never, mjidam,' replied I. 

* A fool it may be sometimes necessary to 
flatter ; but with people of taste and discern- 
ment nothing passes but rude sincerity.' * All ! 
Demaistre,' sighed she, looking soft and dis- 
consolate, * what shall we do ? Advise us.' 
*In the last number of the "Mirror of 
Manners,"' replied I, *you may have seen 
an essay, an indifferent performance of mine V 

* Yes ; a description of an entertainment at 
Lady I bauble's, in London. Oh ! it was 
charming ! Dear Demaistre, you have taste, 
and such a naive style ! You will ruin us. 
Why, do you know, I no sooner read that 
description of yours but it came into my 
head to do just such a thing. But then it 
would be 80 expensive.' 

" * Expensive, madam ! That is the very 
glory of it It is in fashion as in war : the 
more it costs, the greater the honor.' 

" * If I could only persuade Tipptoff ' — a 
deep sigh. 


Meredith Denudstrej 


" ' Leare that to me,' said I cheerfully. 
" * Dear Demaistre !' 
" * Have I your full authority for it V 
" * Oh !^ 


Mr. Meredith Demaistre here made a pe- 
culiar gesture, with a peculiar expression of 
his mouth, upon observing which Jenkins 
smacked his lips and knocked the bottom of 
his glass agmnst the mahogany. ^But 
how," said he, " could you drag poor Tipp- 
toff into such an extravagance ?" 

" There," replied Demaistre, lowering his 
voice, " lies the secret of the whole transac- 
tion. You are aware of poor T.'s habits." 

" Drinks and plays deep ?" 

" Yes : plays a great deal with the Major, 
my friend — you know who. Well, the 
Major is under heavy obligations to me. I 
have him, so to speak, in the hollow of my 
hand. He has been regularly robbing Tipp- 
toff, this last season, of some five thousand. 
A fool and his money are soon parted. I 
directed the Major to lose it back to him at 
his earliest convenience, as we say, but to 
keep it all by him, and run in debt to T. for 
the amount. As ordered, so did the Major ; 
and about a week after, T. informed me, 
with a look of vast satisfaction, that he 
had won five thousand, which, considering 
that ho had been a loser until then, he 
thought no less than providential. * Provi- 
dential !' said I. ' Indeed ! Are you aware, 
my dear T., that the P.'s and the Q.'s talk 
of dropping your wife V 

" His countenance fell. * Don't be alarmed, 
my good sir,' said I ; * she will very easily 
recover her position. It is only necessary to 
give poor Mrs. T. a little more pin money. 
The poor lady, you know, is very economi- 
cal, in fact much more careful of your con- 
cerns than of her own. It was but yester- 
day she lamented her inability to do any- 
thing handsome. Those Squabbs, you 
know, my dear Tipptoff, those Squabbs 
have set such a frightfnl fashion of expense.' 
In short, I advised the poor fool to adnse 
Mrs. T. to make a bold stroke, outshine the 
entire Squabb concern, and strike Mrs. 
Washington Tibbs quite dumb. I offered 
on the spur of the moment to manage every- 
thing. Tipptoff, poor fool, was grateful and 
said ho would sustain Mrs. T., if it cost him 
all he was worth. The rest you know. 
Everything came off just as it had been ar- 

ranged. The widow,partly knowingmy plans, 
patronized poor Mrs. T. openly, so that all 
saw it, not excepting the party patronized. 
Squabb took "[Hpptoff aside and advised 
him, as a friend, not to go on at that rate, 
and offered, if he found himself in any sud- 
den difficulty, to accommodate him with a 
few thousand, if he would give good secu- 

" And Mrs. Squabbs ?" said Jenkins, inter- 

"Ah! ha! — ^there lies the fun of the 
thing. The Major, who you know is a con- 
summate exaggerator, and an abandoned 
eulogizer, whispered Mrs. S.*in her ear, that 
it all meant nothing but a compliment to 
her daughter Emeline Ginevra, — a tkinp 
which you may have seen rolling in a coach 
in Broadway." 

" Aye, — very &t !" 

" As fat, sir, as a firkin, and as affected 
as a bunch of artificial flowers. Mrs. Squabb, 
whose shrewdness never gets the better of 
her vanity, swallowed this leaden bait, and 
immediately invited the plumpy Major to 
dine. He will make love to the divine 
butter firkin, and the two w^ill conclude the 
child's fable of happiness — * die in a pot of 
grease.' " 

"But did Mrs. Squabb betray any- 

" Everything. She waddled up to poor 
Tipptoff and complimented him with the 
air of a duchess; she let everybody into 
the secret, and even whispered her daughter, 
loud enough for half a dozen to hear, that 
on such an occasion it was her duty to hold 
up her head, and be pleasant. But the 
young lady needed no instigation ; her 
vanity ran even with her mother's informa- 
tion, and the two came in neck and neck." 

"But Mrs. Tipptoff surely took means 
to contradict this stupid rumor." 

" She would have done so, but it hap- 
pened that her husband had recently ap- 
plied to the Major for some of the money, 
and found it not immediately to be come 
at ; and being consequently somewhat em- 
barrassed, he had resolved to borrow from 
old Squabb. The Tipptofli*, on that ac- 
count, suffered the impression to remain ; 
and poor Mrs. T. could only bite her lips in 
silence. She told it all to me the next morn- 
ing in a fit of chagrin and weeping." 


The Pet of the Parvenus. 



THE 0AF£.. 

DsM AiSTRE and his companions sat talking 
over the table until dusk, when they were 
disturbed by the setting of the cups for tea. 
They rose and took their accustomed stroll 
along the quieter side of Broadway, The 
crowd of home-returning clerks and arti- 
sans, that shuffles nightly over the harsh 
pavement, had grown thin and interrupted. 
The thunder of the empty cart and load- 
ed omnibus, the cries of hawkers, and the 
pattering and scraping of ten thousand feet, 
made it impossible to converse ; almost to 
think. They moved on quietly ajid leisurely, 
regarding nothing ; until Demaistre turned 
quickly to the right, crossed over, beckoning 
Jenkins to follow him— and the two were im- 
mediately buried in the darkness of an in- 
tersecting street. 

Again it is light, and we discover our 
two friends seated in a remote comer of a 
large and brilliantly-hghted apartment, set 
throughout with small marble tables, for the 
convenience of pairs, or limited parties, of 
Bocial bachelors, who meet here, and while 
away the tedious hours of evening, with 
coffee, or the keener pleasures of strong 
drink. The early hour had brought few 
visitors, and a feeling of privacy and quiet 
stole over the two, as they sat. 

A heavy chandelier, hanging from the 
centre of the ceiling above a broad reading 
table, sent a clear and soft light through the 
room. Leaning g\ )v the table and appa- 
rently lost in the perasal of a German news- 
paper, you might have seen a gray -haired 
gentleman, in whose face traces of care and 
of reflection mingled painfully with the to- 
kens of a night- worn and dissipatiod life. 

On observing this person, Demaistre start- 
ed, and then with as little noise as possible 
changed his position so as to throw his face 
in shadow, and conceal it from the stranger. 

A look of inquiry passed over th(». face of 
his companion. Demaistre observed it, and 
presently, after having ordered coffee and 
cigaiB, he began to speak in a low voice. 

"An old enemy of mine," said he, "and 
one of the few men in this world whom I 
wish to avoid.** 

" I begin to see,** rephed the other with 
a sneer, " that even your impudence is not 
equal to mine. I can look any man in the 
fiKe and defy scrutiny.'* 

"Because you have nothing to hide." 

"Very true, thank God ! but who is it?" 

" Conrad, a German. We were acquaint- 
ed in Paris." 

" I have heard the name, but it is common. 
A rival, perhaps." 

" Worse, — an enemy." 

" Is not a rival the worst enemy ? 

" For the time, the worst enemy is the 
man you win from at play, — that is my ex- 

" When you cheat." 

" Call it by hard names if you will, but 
every kind of g«ime is a delusion, and your 
success depends half upon chance, and half 
upon your own secresy and knowledge of 
your enemy's ignorance." 

"You ruined yonder gentlemsui, I sup- 

"Yes. He informed against me for a 
common swindler, — I challenged him, and 
at the same time gave information to the 
police that he was a Gorman radical. 
Louis Philippe had a groat dislike of radi- 
cals, and our friend was directed to leave 

" What was your travelling name at that 
time ?" 

" Cocksure, — I was English, — Charles 
Cocksure, Esq., of Cocksure. Conrad did 
not suspect me. lie had a sistor at Paris, 
a very pretty creature, and the heiress 
of a small j)roperty in Pennsylvania. My 
intention wius to marry tho girl, and go with 
her to America ; but I foil into tonii»tiition, 
lost all my money to a fonialo coninmnist, 
was compollod to ruin Conrad, and lost 
his countonanoe with his sistor. It is four 
yeai"s since, but if the dog soos mo, ho will 
remind nio of tho challouiro." 

" But tho girl ?" inquired Jonkins, with a 
sigh. " Did si 10 love you ?" 

"I was no loss than a divinity in hor eyes, 
and tho poor thing absolutely died of dis- 
appointment, as 1 know. She was Conrad's 
sole rohitivo, and ho niado a jut of hor. His 
rage was tomfic. II(» holiovcd-, tuo, that I had 
harmed tho girl, but I novor had any incli- 
nation that way." 

" I dare say not," said Jonkins, with a 
sneer; "you are a groat pliilosophor, and 
have wonderful solt^oniniand. Enviable 
man !" 

"Mr. Jenkins," said Domaistro, bowing 
very coolly, "you have your joke." 

" And you your self-command, ha ! ha ! 


MeMiith ■Ptfwqiitoif, 


ha ! an even share. I am content with my 
joke, and you doubtless with the other 
quality, — ^what do you call it ? self-command, 
ha ! ha ! — a great philosopher. Here's to 
self-command, the king of all the virtues — 
the very Pope of the merits : May he never 
want opportunities." 

Demaistre bit his lip and turned pale; 
but like the hero Narses, defeat cowed not 
his spirit, and contempt rather inspired than 
abashed him. Dropping the subject easily, 
he took up a very jocular and confiding tone, 
rattled over a variety of pleasant topics, and 
pretending to have an appointment at eight, 
left Jenkins in a high good-humor with 
himself, and consequently with every one 

The German soon looked up, and recog- 
nizing Jenkins, who had not till then seen 
that the enemy of Demaistre was an old 
acquaintance of his own, the two joined 
company and entered into conversation, 
assisting their wits with an occasional glass 
of brandy-and-water. 

The G^3^man had before him a copy of the 
London Times — Jenkins, a Herala, They 
exchanged. The two papers, of the same 
date, had each an article on the mititary 
power of the respective countries. 

"Your countrymen," said the (German, 
^' are the most irascible and insolent in the 
world, and the strongest for war, but they 
do not feel it The English, on the con- 
trary, feel powerful, and are essentially 
weak : they outface you." 

" We shall one day feel and understand 
our power," replied Jenkins, " and England 
her weakness, and she will then perhaps as- 
sume a civiller tone toward us. But how 
is it that you Prussians, who are a military 
people, trained, every man of you, to arms, 
are not the leading power in Europe ?" 

" For the same reason, sir," replied Con- 
rad, " that you Americans are not the first in 
th^ world. I call you Americans, — ^I should 
have said " Rapublicans ; for though you 
are a compactly organized power, you are 
not a nation, in the ancient sense. Neither 
is Prussia a nation ; its nationality is young 
and weak ; it could even recondlo itself^ as 
some of your fools do, .to dismemberment 
and subjugation. The masses of the peo- 
ple have not liberty enough ; they have dis- 
cipline and education instead." 

Jenkins smiled. " Liberty," said he, " is no 
longer a passion with us. The old enthusi- 


asmhas wcMmitadfoot .Widi your people 

it has not yet oome." 

^ Nor perhaps ever wiD," replied Gomnd, 
sighing, "thoiuzh I would give my Hfe to be 
assured of it Sut you have it in your hearts 
as warm as ever, though you talk less about 
it; and thatisno doubt right But you are 
looking for something new to interest yoo, 
and must have change." 

'*Do you mean to say that our form of 
government will change f 

"• No, not materialyr ; but the spirit of 
your early history, ycyir * spirit of '76,' as 
you call it, is an extinct form of enthusiasm. 
Your hot adventurers, who know little of 
the past, cannot feed their imaginations on 
the glory of their &theis; they wish to 
make a Uttle fresh glory for thenaelyeB.'' 

" And what follows T 

**Look at history and it will tell yon. 
What followed Uberty in Athens T 

'* Conquest!" 


" Conquest, too." 

^What is it that has made Bk^riand a 

nquering and enterpriung power f" 

^* Do you mean to suggest," said Jenkins^ 
with an expression of surprise, *^ that Great 
Britain owes her vigor, these last two cen- 
turies, to an infusion of the democratic 
principle f" 

** Why not! The more of demooraey 
the more of war, and the more, too, of pah- 
lie authority and of popuUr aotivity. The 
most despotic empires are the most peaoefoL 
When the will of the multitude rules, yoa 
have perpetual wars. Merchants under a 
strong government delight in war: witness 
Greece, Carthage, E^;ypt, England. And* 
you too must come to it War opens 
the way for commerce. We say Commerce. 
is king, — we mean to say, interest is kin^. 
The Southerner is valiant in defense of his 
property, — the Englishman in defense of his 
commerce. The American indll ag^ make 
war, as he has already made it, for his freer 
dom of industry, the liberty to work and 
sell He must shut out the lordgner ox he 
starves, and if he cannot otherwise do iS^ 
he will %ht for it 

^' When, the American cotton growec^ 
£uiner, and doth maker believe in a ocniiT 
mon interest, and feel that together thev 
can . stand agunst the world, they wL 
make one nation, and be masters of tbe 
seas. In Pmsna, the people do not knoq^ 


i>n Waylaand on CMlegiate Btfom^ 


il from fas grandmotlifir; I do not 
to UBj that » man ought abadateljto 
fab gnndmother'B tone, but he most 
faflr blood in hun. A man, sir, must 
tfae blood of his grandmother to have 
a good Toioe. A large degree of self-eon- 
tekmsneflB is equally necessary to the speak- 
ing of a good artideof English. None but 
a ntt-bkwded lord can sound the vowels and 
CPMonants correctly, or give that sportive, 
halHaiy, half-impudent £rawl, which is so 
koed superior. In fiict, to speak good 
fittiMhy one must have lounged in an 
Qnxd doflster, after playing trap at Eton 
vidi tfae young aristocracy. Greek acd- 
4aee is a part of the secret A neat use 
«f dai^, like the acid in punch, never de 
fevp^ an articulation and cadence Uke the 
l^^lMr oetavea of a boudoir piano, touched 
If tfae neat finger of our little Hofltoan, 
(«ko^ now I think of it, bade me give you 

aticket, here it is,) — shall I add spicy haut- 
boyish inflexions of the voice, for the intro- 
duction of my gentleman^s polished teeth- 
betrayers, (I mean a smile,) and jaw-depres- 
sors, (I mean dashes of aristocratic dullness,) 
put in as though my gentleman ought not to 
know anything out of the Court Journal, 
and cannot recollect his younger brothers' 
names, were he damned for it ; — ^in fine, an 
easy evenness of tone and carriage, as though 
my lord had been in h — ^1 and seen notfamg 
there particularly striking. — ^Ah, sir, to ac- 
quire all this is an art — ^is high art, and re- 
quires a combination of blood and education 
which only Oxford and St James's, and a life 
of easy spending, can give a man ; fore 
Heaven! I am sure to know a gentl^nan 
now. I wish only to hear him say, Aw 1 in the 
dark ; that Uttle exclamation betrays it alL*' 

[to BS OOMTIMUKl}.] 


None but those who understand a system 
rfwuld endeavor to remodel it. This is a 
tmism, and we wish the truism pardoned 
fcr the sake of its character as a text 

Our college system is known to be objec- 

tir>nable. Our graduates are strangely 

diffident in those branches which the College 

makes its esj>ecial care, and are proverbially 

ignorant of those practical sciences which 

exert so weighty an influence on the present 

vorid. We find among them few masters 

of Latin and Greek, fewer still who are at 

all skilful in mathematics. Uc would be 

thought an indifferent French teacher whose 

{'Q{»i^ after ha\nng been tlirec or four years 

uder hi« care, were unable to pronounce 

iod translate a page of Moliere. Yet it Is 

eommon knowledge that not one graduate 

10 thrpo can read and translate a section of 

TadtuA without blundering in his quantities, 

if not in his rendering. Rari nantes are 

thpywho can solve you a quadratic equation 

on the instant, not to mention the more ab- 
struse problems of the triangle and the cone. 
Without stopping to enlarge upon what no 
one will dispute, it may safely be said that 
a system of education that furnishes such 
meagre and unsatisfactory results should be 
looked into and reformed, if reformation be 
possible; and that the scrutiny should bo 
conducted, and the plan of refomiation pro- 
posed, by one intimately conversant with 
the broad and intricate subject of University 

In such a matter as Collegiate Reform, the 
first steps towards alteration and imi)rove- 
ment must be taken by more conij)etent 
j)arties than the superficial public, or the 
newspaper. Declamation ag«ainst the con,- 
servative College is utterly useless, and 
is often of positive injury in strengthening 
the evils which it stiives to eradicate. Ojxni 
abuse only recoils upon itself. Of all the 
attacks that have been made on our college 

* Report to the Corporation of Brown University, on the Chang^es in the System of Collegiute 
Bdatttioo. Read Mar<» 28, 1860. Providence : George H. Whitney. 


Dr, Wayland on Collegiate Reform, 


system within the last few years, there have 
bsen none in which the spirit of reckless 
change and undistingiiishing rancor against 
educational conservatism was not so powerful 
as to baffle its object, and insure for all prop- 
ositions of reform an indifferent or a hostile 
reception. Such means of improvement 
have had their day. A reformer more tem- 
perate, better instructed, and more thor- 
oughly clothed with authority, has appeared, 
whose only misfortune is that his predeces- 
sors have been so unworthy of their office 
and their successor. 

Dr. Wayland is admirably fitted for the 
duty he has undertaken. We do not say 
this unadvisedly, nor is it a hasty conclusion 
from the feasibility of the plans which he 
advocates. He is a close and logical rea- 
soner from his premises ; and if we are sure 
of the truth of the latter, no one can persuade 
us that his conclusions are erroneous. The 
unsoundness of the Dr.'s Political Economy 
arises only from the incorrectness of his 
premises; the reasoning is as clear and 
deduct, as a strict regard for the laws of lan- 
guage and logic can make it.* In the pres- 

* Dr. "Wayland, it is said, is a disciple of 
McCuUoch, i. c, an advocate of the laisser /aire, 
or anti-national and anti- American doctrine of trade. 
He appoint"^ one term (three or four months) onli/ to 
the study of his system of political economy, of which 
our urbane contributor remarks, that although logi- 
cally constructed, it is weak in the premises ; as if 
one should say, a very good runner, but crippled 
in the legs. It is said that the political system of 
the learned Doctor has been made a text-book at 
Yale and other Colleges. The first premise of the 
free-trade system, the right leg of the cripple, is 
that nations ought not to attempt more than one 
kind of industry ; — America ought, for example, to 
confine herself to com, cotton and potato culture, 
giving England a monopoly of all the more diffi- 
cult and profitable kinds of industry. Now to 
carry out this " premise" (i. e., the expediency of a 
complete division of labor among the nations of 
the earth) to its logical consequences, is it not 
just and proper that the peculiar industry of tlie 
learned professions be divided and appropriated 
in the same manner ? To instance : Let England 
have all the writers and scholars, lawyers and 
theologians. Let Germany have all the philoso- 
phers and metaphysicians, — Italy all the priests 
and clergymen, — France all the republican writers, 
tfec, (fee. Why not bring everything ready made 
across the -water ? Wliy work against the grain ? 
Why kick against the pricks? What need of 
learning at all ? Why study a course of political 
economy wliich teaches us tliat there is no need 
of political " economy," — that waste and not 
" economy " is the true road to national wealth ? 
Colleges in America are mere forced growths, 

ent instance, however, we are certmn as to 
premises. What college education is and 
what it does, we know. A mere reference 
to catalogues informs us at once of the 
number of our Colleges ; of their text-books 
and of the changes made in them from time 
to time ; of the number of students in at- 
tendance, and of their general and specific 
plans. On one point only are we left in the 
dark, nor on this point does Dr. Wayland 
profess his ability to inform us, namely, the 
amount of funds already expended by these 
institutions in their endeavors to establish 
themselves on secure foundations. We only 
know that one College alone, from the many 
that solicit our patronage, audits and pub- 
hshes an annual Treasurer's Report, and that 
the expense of each student's education to 
the pubhc amounts in dollars to four places 
of figures. 

Our Colleges, deficient as their graduates 
are in the knowledge whose badge they wear, 
were modelled after the English Univer- 
sities, exemplars not inglorious or unworthy 
of imitation. In what trifling deviations 
their foundere saw fit to make, they coasulted 
correct judgment and popular need. The 
course of study remained substantially the 
same. The number of years was fixed by 
standard precedent. The education which 
these infant and strugghng Colleges of New- 
England gave their pupils, although far less 
general and diffusive than that which they 
now offer, was thorough and practical. In 
their main object, the advancement of the 
ministry, they were successful even beyond 
hope. The early theologians of New-Eng- 
land afford a splendid and lasting proof of 
the efficiency of that system by which their 
growing minds were nurtured. Institutions 
to which Edwards, and Dwight, and Emmoos 
were wont to look with filial and affectionate 
reverence, have no cause to be ashamed of 
the mode of instruction by which these 
giants of theological literature were trained ; 
they have better reason to ponder carefully 
the fact that their alumni are waxing feebler 

like manufactures, and consequently they do not 
flourish. In fact, political economists of the free- 
trade school in America ought to engage in potato 
j)lanting. What manner of men are thci^e who 
preach one doctrine and practise another ? The 
learaed Doctor's logical legs, i. e., his premises^ 
are indeed not only lame, but absolutely wooden, — 
the true living members having been cut off by 
the statistical quack salvers of England.— Ed. 


Dr, Wayhmd on Collegiate Rrform, 


iriUi each suocessive lustrum, and are driven 
to take up other weapons than those fur- 
niahcd them by Alma Mater, if thcj would 
combat sucoessfullj ^itli a stalwart world 
around them. 

Times changed. Progress, so long the 
pursuer of a definite and easily discerned 
pathy suddenly branched out in manifold 
hnn&f and tended in manifold direc- 
tions. Science quadrupled its resources. 
Nature, interrogated by a myriad of eager 
questioners, spoke so clearly aud divinely 
that her devotees increased with every word. 
Alas, poor Colleges ! you are fuU of work in 
educatmg in your simple Latin, Greek, and 
pure numbers ! What meaas will you em- 
pk>j to satisfy the clamor rising in your 
▼ery halls for initiation into the profitable 
mysteries of practical science, and the new 
and captivating philosophies which, from 
their European cntdle, arc starting up with 
mofe than Herculean vigor ? 

It was impossible for the Colleges, con- 
aervative though they were, to prcsen e their 
course of study intact Had they atteinpt<.>d 
it^ their diminished classes would quickly 
bave warned them of their error. Nor 
would it have been practicable to increase 
the nimaber of years necessary to the ac([ui- 
sition of a diploma. Had they altered their 
systeniy appointing to each stud< nt such a 
course as ne might choose, tiie difficulty 
would have been obnated, and new branches 
taught without serious detriment to the old. 
But the ancient and wonted sj/stan, it was 
thought, could not be dropped. And so as 
branch after branch of study was introduced, 
and the tree of knowledge became expanded 
by reason of the multitude of its boughs, 
each branch and bough was clipped shorter 
and shorter. Dropping the figure, as the 
nomber of studies increased, each was taught 
kflB perfectly. 

"It seems to have been taken for granted 
that our Colleges were designed exclusively 
for professional men ; that they must teach 
all that professional men might wish to 
know ; and that all this must be taught in 
four years. The time of study was not ex- 
tended, but science after science was added 
to the course as fest as the pressure from 
without seemed to require it. The extent 
to which this S3rstem has been carried among 
us may be been by observing the annual 
catalogue of any of our Colh ges. In the 
oldest and most celebrated College of New- 

England, the course of study pursued by 
the undergraduate embraces the fi.llowing 
branches of leaniing, to wit : Latin, Greek, 
Mathematics, comprehending Geometry and 
Algebra, Plane and Sj^herical Trigonometry 
and Analytical Geometry, Ancient and 
Modern History, Natural History, Chemistry, 
Rhetoric, French, Psychology, Ethics, Phy- 
sics, Logic, Botany, I'olitical Economy, the 
Evidences of Religion, Constitution of the 
United States, Minendogy, (Ecology, and 
German or Spanish or an equivalent, toge- 
ther with essays to be written in several of 
these departments, and instruction in Elocu- 

" Tliere are, in the whole four years, one 
hundred and sixty weeks of study. Suppose 
that the student pursues twenty of these 
branches of learning, this will allow eight 
weeks to each. Seven eighths of the first 
year, and one half of the second, are devoted 
to Latin, Greek, and Mathematics. If we 
subtract this amount, fifty-five weeks, from 
one hundred and sixty, it leaves one hundred 
and five weeks to bo devoted to the re- 
mair der. This will give us six weeks and a 
fraction to each of the other studies. But 
this is not all. In order to introduce so 
many sciences into the period of four years, 
the student is frecjuently obliged to carry on 
five or six at the same time ; some occupy- 
ing him three times, others twice, and othere 
once in a week. In this manner all con- 
tinuity of thought is interrui)ted, and literary 
enthusiasm rendertd almost impossible. 
Such has been, to a greater or less degree, 
the course pursued by all our Colleges. The 
greater the number of studies prescribed in 
the curriculum, the more generous is believed 
to be the education imparted. When a 
College is not able to exhibit so extensive a 
course of instruction, it is considered as a 
misfortune which nothing can palliate but its 
jiccuniary inability to relieve it. 

** And what is the result ? Can the work 
that is marked out in the course of studies 
in any of our Colleges he j'ei formed in four 
years ? Is there any pro];ortion Ix'tween the 
Ia]>or to be done, mid the time in which it 
is to be acconij lishid ? AVe have stated 
the time that is given on an average to each 
of some twenty s-cienecs, in tlie foremost 
College of New-rj)gland. Can any one 
believe th«it such knowledge of either of 
them can be acejuircd in this time, as shall 
advance the progress of learning, or discipline 


Dr. W0ylmi (m Cb/b^iolf JS^^om^ 


the niind of the stadentt Tba oouzBe of 
study, as we have remarked, in the Engiish 
Universities, is extremely limited; the 
students enter the University from the best 
of grammar schools, and yet those who are 
candidates for honors are obliged to study 
industriously, and frequently intensely. If 
this is, therefore, a fair measure of what a 
student can do, what must be the result, if 
three or four times the amount of labor be im- 
posed upon him ?" (Report^ pp. 14, 16, 16.) 

To meet tlie wants of the public, and to 
furnish an education to. each student that 
should enable him to speak with confidence 
upon the various scientific and philosophical 
topics of the day, this broad and superficial 
course was introduced, although so gradual- 
ly that no alarm was felt at the lengthening 
list of studies and text-books in the Cot 
lege Catalogues. Parents viewed with de- 
light the vast field of knowledge into which 
their sons were to be inducted, and if at any 
time misgiving arose as to the thorough- 
ness with whidi this knowledge was to be 
acquired, they were quickly checked by the 
simple recollection of the wisdom and expe- 
rience of the teachers who regulated the 
course. Young men, it is true, doubted their 
own capability to master all that their won- 
dering eyes saw in the oft-referred-to and 
portentous scheme, but once entered within 
college walls they ceased from wonder and 
anxii'ty. Difficulties vanished. Sdence 
made easy mot them at every step with al- 
luring smiles ; Philosophies became divested 
of their rigors ; Languages suddenly dis- 
owned tlioir mysterious requirements ; and 
gently gliding over a smooth road, easy to 
the feet and lined with helping vehicles, the 
neophytes in due time grasped the honored 
laurel at their journey s end. And with 
most, the object of a four years' journey had 
been aeoomplished. Uenceforth who dared 
question their acquirements, their acquaint- 
ance with the philosophies of the moderns, 
their familiarity with the stately classics! 
The diploma — was it not an universal pass- 
port i Were they not received with fiivor 
everywhere as a peculiar and distinguished 
class i Truly all this was a satisfying re- 
wiu-d for so short and so easy a probation. 

The public demand being now satisfied, 
and a guarantee given by the actions of the 
past tliat all future requirements would be 
promptly and fully answered, nothing was 
more natural than to expect continued and 

growing pioBperitjr to tlie Oolkm. Hie 
importance of education was fmy leoog- 
nizedy graduates were honored, toitioa was 
cheap ; what could prevent the increase of 
classes in individual colleges, and the in- 
crease of cdleges themselyest Surely if 
the commodity oflfered was good, and with^ 
in universal reach, it woxSi find buyers. 
And for a time the commodity vhu taken 
up. Collies did increase. Classes in- 
creased, aot did the latter beffin to dimin- 
ish until the truth fenced itseu upon the 
community that the kiqd of education which 
had been mtroduced as the necessity of the 
age, was an impoesilnlily, a oontradicti<HL of 
itself which professed to do eveiythii^ and 
did nothing well, — ^which neither made phi- 
losopheis, nor scientific men, nor lingoista, — 
which by its multifiuiousness and breadth 
distracted the mind, and robbed it of that 
discipline which is the prime desidenitam 
in study; and that the time and money spent 
in acquiring it might be more pic^ljiblj 
employed in other ways. 

As the number of students diminished, 
effi>rt was made to anest the decrease bj 
lowering the rate of tuition. This ooold 
not be a local measure, for if one college 
was enabled to afford equally good, educa- 
tion with others at a much less cost, it ia 
evident that it would soon be crowded at the 
expense of the others. As soon, therdbfe, 
as appeals were made to public benevo- 
lence m behalf of one institution, the puUic 
was universally besieged with similar de- 
mands. Denominations rallied around thdr 
own seminaries. Competition continued. 
Funds were provided by which young men, 
who, to use a current expression, w^!e able 
to bring " satisfactory evidence of poverty,*' 
were educated gratmtously. Coll^^es have 
ceased to support themselves. Mf it be 
desired to render a coll^ prosperous, we 
do not so much ask in what way we can 
afford the best education, or confer the great- 
est benefit on the community, but how we* 
can raise funds, by which our tuition may 
be most effectudhr reduced in price, at given 
away altc^ther.** 

lliat the demands made by American 
Colleges have been liberally met, thoeiB ao- 

Suainted with the subject will readily allow, 
[though the magnitude of the funds con- 
tribute cannot be easily ascertained. But 
something like an estimate may be formed 
firom the Aeport of the Treasurer rf Harvard 


JDt. Wmfi^ad m OoOegkO^ Btfinrm. 


OtflMnii IcNiciiuiig theflum uffxcfgoB^ to 
fta oanf Hftinfi of ondeignidtoitoi. Thefiond 
«BDifl<md for tins pmpose amoimtB to 1467,- 
162 17. Hie intmstof tliis 8am, with the 
tailidii bm^ Bai^mtB the imrtitiition. This in- 
temtiB |3S,029 72, which is the expense of 
flftaestkm to the Gdlege, besides what is re- 
eerndfiar tuition. IKYidingthissumbythe 
number of gradoatesforthe last ten 
fifly-eeveai, the portion received by 
gmdiate is $491 01. The money ex« 
peodad in buildings, land, apparatus, ^c^ 
pobnUy equals tluit at interest Whence 
we aie Ibroed to the condusion that every 
mduate of this institution, in addition to 
mI tkai he pays Ibr Us own education, costs 
AepnUieaooutllQdO. This sum is some- 
wiiat abote that in most other colleges, still 
k pointe us deaily to the &ct that every 
dnuHM of every endowed institution is a 
fmnauBt irooii the public, and that the 
emnae to wnich both he and the public are 
MMded is not counterbalanced by the de- 
fcelne education he receives. The results 

atdonotpay^or the processes. To 

idvlBiliate this let us look at three state- 
two of which Dr. Wayland estab- 
bj the most irrefragable proof; the 
is only capaUe of a moral demonstra- 


firstly, to prove that the number of edu- 
cated men in the commuuity has not been 
increased by the reduction of tuition and 
the enlargement of the course of study, a 
taUe of the annual average of students dur- 
ii^ the last twentv years in twelve New- 
England Colleges IS submitted to us, com- 
p3ed from sources abundantly reliable. Wo 
find tt»^- 

*■ Fyom 1830 to 1834, the avorago number was 1560 

FnMD 1835 to 1838, »* ** ** " . . . . lriU3 
PhMDlMDt»lB44, »* tt u « ....2063 
FnMD ltM4 to IMd, " ** 44 « ....2000 
Ib tlw y«ar lt53U, tho number was 1884 

**In the year 1849, the number was only 
•even ^creator than in 1835 ; and in 1850 
only fifty-one greater than in 1830." (Kc- 
port, p. 30.) 

In ^lew of this we cannot diascnt from 
the inference that "from these facts it would 
certainly appear that the number of those 
who are seeking a collegiate education is 
actually jt^wiug less, and this moreover at 
a time wlien the subject of education has 
attracted the attention of our whole commu- 
nity to a degree altogether unprecedented in 
our history." 


Tooching the seoond statement, we do 
not propose to argue upon the qnestion 
whetner the standard of professional ability 
has.been raised within the last thirty years. 
Up(m this point widely different opinions 
are entertained. We can only represent 
the general belief^ that there are less indnoe- 
ments to enter the profes^ons than formerly, 
that they are not neeessaiily more ennoblii^ 
than the higher tomchee of commerce, ai^ 
that the number of powerful *and eminent 
professional men is not noticeably on the 

The third statement is as true, as it is in- 
dicative of a mortifying fact The reduc- 
tion of the cost of collegiate education has* 
been made mainly to increase the number 
of preachers, by affording candidates for the 
sacred office the utm^ fadlitiefi. This 
end attained, and the means are proved 
correct Facts show us that the means have 
resulted in effects directly contrary to those 
intended. ~ - 

^We take the Seminaries of Bangoff^, 
Andover, Cambridge, Newton, New-Haven, 
and East Windsor, and find that the aver* 
age, for periods of five years, of their aggre- 
^te number of students, is as follows : — 

From 1830 to 1834, the average la S85 

" 1835 to 1839, " " 34« 

♦* 1840tol844, " « 350 

" 1845101S49, « " 290 

" The whole number for the last year is 261. 
Tliis is less by ten tlian that for the year 
1883. From 1830 to 1840 the number of 
students increased from 253 to 373, and 
from 1840 to 1850 it has decreased from 
373 to 261 ; that is, it is only eight more 
now than it was thirty years ago." (Report, 
p. 33.) 

From the facts l)efore us is it unrea<«ona- 
ble to conclude that the education furnished 
at our Colleges, and the manner in which 
it is given, are unacceptable to th(» peoi)le, 
and are deficient in thase results which 
alone make instruction useful ? Is it a fact 
unworthy of notia» that many of our alumni, 
who were certainly not idle in ()<)ll<*g(», are 
obliged to go through with a thorough re- 
vision of chissic elements u])on entering pro- 
fessional s<-hools, when every one who bears 
a dipKmia should be intimately conversant 
>\'ith the principles and structure of (ireok 
and Latin I Must there not l>e a fault 
somewhere if the mental discipline of the 
l)rofessed student compares unfavorably with 
that of the lawyer's clerk, wbo has worked 



Dr, Wayland on Collegiate Reform. 


his way into the office from the plough or 
the workshop ; or with that of the young 
merchant whose evenings only have been 
spared by the relentless demands of trade ? 
Not that this is necessarily or alwaysthe 
case, but that its frequent occurrence leads 
us to suspect tliat other causes than natural 
indolence in the student tend to bring it 
about. Against the influence of a constant- 
ly shifting and su[)erficial coimse of study ; 
of barren formulas whose results are never 
reached ; of outUned philosophies, whose 
beauty lies only in completeness, and whose 
(•x)mpletion is never intended ; of multifa- 
rious branches forced in promiscuous heaps 
upon the distracted mind, the ardent re- 
solves and ambitious desires of few can 
hold out. In attempting to gain insight 
into all proposed for its examination, the 
reasoning power succumbs, and sinks into a 
deceitful and lethargic ease. The memory 
is overburdened, and shakes ofl;* its duties 
{dtogether. The mind, losing its wonted 
and healthy action, gradually becomes sat- 
isfied to take everything for granted, and to 
esca|)e from the tksk of analyzing, through 
the easy road of passive belief. A few vig- 
orous intellects conquer the difficulties of 
their position, and gain strength by disarm- 
ing a power that has already left them the 
sole survivors of a melancholy contest. 

The plan which Dr. Wayland proposes as 
a remedy for these evils is one which in its 
substantial features, though with shght mod- 
ifications, has been gaining much favor as 
theory, and has achieved desirable success 
in j)ractice. It is that the present system 
of adjusting colk^giate study to a specific 
term of yeai-s be abandoned ; that the time 
allotted to each coui*se of instruction depend 
on the nature of the course, and not on its 
supposed adaptations to the wants of any 
particular j^rofession ; that the various 
courses be so arranged, that so far as it is 
practicable each student may study what he 
chooses, all he chooses, and nothing but 
what he chooses ; that no student be ad- 
mitted as a candidate for a degree, unless 
he h;is honorably sustained his examination 
in such studies as may be ordained by the 
corporation, but that no student be under 
any obligation to proceed to a degree unless 
he chooses ; and that each student be enti- 
tled to a certificate of such proficiency as 
he may have made in every course that he 
has pursued. 

We subjoin the courses of instruction 
which Dr. Wayland thinks feasible : — 

1. A course of instruction in Latin, occupying two years 

2. " "In Greek, occupying two years. 

3. " "in three Modern Languages. 

4. " " in Pure Mathematics,two years. 

5. " "in Mechanics, Optics, and As- 

tronomy, either with or with- 
out MaUiematical demonstra- 
tions, one and a half years. 

6. " " in Chemistry, Pliysiology, and 

Geology, one and a half years. 

7. " " in the English Language and 

Rhetoric, one year. 

8. " "In Moral and InteUectual Phi- 

losophy, one year. 

9. " " in Political Economy, one term. 

10. " " in History, one terra. 

11. " " in the Science of Teaching. 

12. " " on the Principles of Agriculture. 

13. " " on the Application of Chemis- 

try to the Arts. 

14. " " on the Application of Science 

to the Arts. 

15. " " in the Science of Law. 

This system, it will be seen, while it in- 
cludes all the branches at present taught in 
our Colleges, and leaves ample room for the 
introduction of as many more as may seem 
desirable, pei-mits each student to select such 
studies as suit his own views or those of his 
parents, and gives him sufficient time to ac- 
quire a thorough knowledge of every branch 
he undertakes. It oflfers no obstacles to 
those who are preparing themselves to enter 
professions, but rather favors their progress 
in their definite studies by releasing them 
from those branches which they would find 
of little practical use, and for which they 
have but httle inchnation. It favors such 
as are unwiUing or unable to spend four 
years in a diflFusive and preparatory college 
coui-se, by permitting them through close 
study of a few distinct branches to qualify 
themselves for a profession. It gives oppor- 
tunity to those who wish to pursue a more 
liberal course of educiition to remain in col- 
lege five or six years, instead of the present 
number. It oftere great advantages to the 
many young men who wish to share the 
general privileges of a collegiate education 
without a long and laborious study of the 
classics, and who intend to enter the more 
active departments of life. At present this 
class are compelled to depend on private, 
and therefore expensive study, or pubhc 
lectures. Professional students, then, would 
not be diminished ; the average number of 
years spent in college would remain nearly 
the same as at present; the number of stu- 
dents of all kinds would be largely increased, 
and the blessings of education proportiona- 
bly extended. The student who used rea- 


Dr. Wayland on Collegiate Reform. 


sonable diligence would gain knowledge relative position now, and lie cannot but bo 
systematically and ijvith cnthiwiasm. In convinced that a great and a progressive 
every step of his duty he would be attended j change has taken place. Men who do not 
by interest, and the alliance of interest and ! d<.'sign to educate tlK*ir sons tV)r the profes- 
duty is proverbially efficient. In whatever ■ sions, are capahle of dotcimining upon the 
branches he might undei-tiikc he would he ! kind i>f instruction which they need. If the 
stimulated by an amhition to master, and | ('ol leges will not furnish it, they are able to 
excel in, his own choice^ There could no ]>rovide it for themselves ; and thoy will pro- 
longer exist complaints against an arbitrary vide it. In New- York and Miissachuse ts 
and unseasonable imposition of studies, since j incipient measures have Ijeen taken for es- 
every one would be free to follow his own I tablishing Agricultural Colleges. The bill 
inclinations. Our Colleges would escape the | before the Legislature of New- York provides 
charge of exclusiveness which is now urged for instruction in all th<i branches tjiught in 
againdt them with too much truth. That our Colleges, with the exception of lan- 
they were primarily designed for professional | gung«s. It is to be, in fact, an institution 
men is no more true, than that in coniiu- i for giving all the education which we now 
iug their blessings to that class of men, they give, agricultural science l)eing substi utcd 
are erring grievously against a hberal ami for Latin and Greek. AVhat is ])roposed 
Christian policy. They make appeals to | to Ixi done for the fanners must S(^on l^e 
all classes of men ; it is but right tliat they ' done either for or by the manufacturei-s and 

should extend their privileges to all classes, 
without subjecting such as would particii)ate 

merchants. In this manner, each produc- 
tive, department will have its own school, 

to an unnecessary and distasteful prescrip- in which its own particular branch of knowl- 
tion of study. Let their diplomas, if in I edge will be taught, Ix^sides the other ordi- 
them there exists a magic Jind sacred charm, , nary studies of a liberal education. A largo 
be given only to those who satisfy certain | portion of the instruction communicated 

conditions ; but let their advantages, which 
generous communities have contributed to 
establish, be as generously afforded to thase 

will thus be the same for all. Mathematics, 
Mechanics, Chemistry, ]^hysi<jlogy, Rhetoric, 
Moral and Intellectual Thilosophy, and Po- 

who are willing to make a slight sacrifice to i litical Economy will be taught in them all. 
obtain them. The feiu* that our Colleges i The Colleges teach ])recisely the same scien- 
xfW become too cheap is unworthy and ecs, with the addition of Latin and Creek, 
unenlightened. ITic fear that their j)resent ' in the place of the knowledge designed in 
advantages will become less and less worthy th(i?e separate schools for a particular pro- 
the price demanded for them is not so irra- j t'er^sion. 
tional. 1 ** If the jnrtitif/e of Colleges should thus 

Setting aside, however, justice and expe- be destroyed, and it )>e found that as good 
diency, is it not wccc^.-itfry that a change that :in education as they furnish can bo ob- 
shall bring about the advantages abov<^ | taiiied in any of those other schools, tho 
hinted at, be introduced ? : nuuiber <)f their students will ])e sensibly 

"To us, it seems that but little opti(.)n is I diniinislicd. If by this dissemination of 
left to the Colleges in this matter. Any ! science among all the other classes of socie- 

one who will observe the progniss which, 
within the last thirty years, hits been made 
by the productive classes of society, in pow- 
er, wealth, and influence, must !je convinced 

ty, the tend«»ncy towards tin- [irofessions 
should be still farther arrested, the Colleges 
will be deseiled by yet larger nuinbei"s. 
They mav Ix'conie verv i»;ood foundations 

that a system of education, j)ractically re- for the su[>port of instrui;toi-s, but very few 
stricted to a cla'^s vastly smaller, an<i rapidly j will be found to avail th'-ni^elves of their 
decreasing in influence, cannot possibly con- instructions." (Report, ]»p. 50, CO.) 

thme. Within a few years tho manufiictur- 
mg interest has Avnmg the Corn Laws from 
the aristocracy of Great Dritain. Let any 
one recall the relative position of the i>ro- 
feasions, and of the mercantile and manu- 
fiKitaring interests, in any of our citie.s, 
twenty years oince. and compare it >vitli their 

The economy with which large (establish- 
ments may be managed, the ease with 
which a skilful teacher may instruct a large 
number, and the exi^tinIX arrano-emenb* al- 
ready m our Colleger, speak powerfully 
against the establishnK^nt of these various 
new schools in which the same sciences arc 


Dr, Wayland on Collegiate Reform, 


to be taught. The Colleges possess libra- 
ries, and apparatus, and buildings. By a 
modification of their present system these 
might be made far more productive and 
useful than they now are ; and the numbei*s 
who are waiting to enter schools where their 
wants will be cared for, or are turning away 
in despair of the education they need, would 
imrnediately gather about the College, aug- 
menting its funds, and indefinitely extend- 
ing its influence. The dusty volumes that 
now sleep an unbroken and useless slumber 
on the dark library shelves would be wa- 
kened into a benign life ; the apparatus now 
used once or twice in a year would be kept 
in more constant employment ; and in place 
of a recitation room barely able to hold 
twenty students, there would be ampler halls 
more generously filled. Teachers rewarded 
by interested scholars would instruct with 
zeal and ardor, and push their own private 
researches with that enthusiasm which is 
only created by a sense of appreciated labor. 
Each College would become a body of many 
members, and each member contribute to 
the health and vigor of the whole frame. 

We are not of the number of those who 
advocate a return to the primitive studies 
of the college course, who would lop off* 
the beautiful and productive sciences of the 
present day, the subtle philosophies of meta- 
pysical criticism, the Economics of Pohtics 
and Wealth ; and would confine us to Ho- 
mer, Tacitus, and Euclid. Those who ad- 
vise this course will not be strongly opposed, 
for no opposition is necessary. In our pres- 
ent state of enlightenment, amid the univer- 
sal call for generous education, a return to 
such a course would empty our Colleges at 

The change that is demanded must come 
in the manner we have been laborinof to 
explain, or in some similar way. That it 
must come, and that too in the fives of men 
now living, we are fully persuaded. Mean- 
while the age will labor to satisfy its wants, 
and if it can provide institutions better fitted 
than the conservative College to meet its de- 
mands, it will have no hesitation in rearino: 

1 • 
them. The Colleges cannot altogether die. 

They are, perhaps, needed in their present 
state for a peculiar class, and their duration 
will be coeval with the existence of Cloroy, 
Lawyers and Physicians. 13ut those form but 
a small part of the community, and so long 
as the College restricts its especial privileges 

to them^ it must maintain but a feeble vital- 
ity, do but partial good, and often call for aid 
on the people whom it slights. A far-seeing 
and enlightened policy dictates speedy re- 
formation, a reformation which the pubUc 
can only induce by opinion, but whose 
omission they can punish by indifference to 
all calls for assistance. 

In education as in all things else we shall 
never reach perfection. In whatever system 
we adopt, we shall find that our theoretic 
wheels creak, and often cloff ; that results 
upon which we had calculated fail to appear ; 
and that processes that we fancied clear and 
simple often lose us in doubt and bewilder- 
ment. Among those whom we would in- 
struct are the negligent and vicioiLs, whose 
example paralyzes industry, whom no en- 
treaties can persuade, and no penalties re- 
form. A lesser part sacrifice health and 
general knowledge to an intense apphcation 
to favorite studies. The majority, of average 
desires and capabifities, need constant urging 
to their complete duty. Here the distinc- 
tion between an efficient and an ineflScient 
couree of study becomes apparent, and the 
proper system clearly understood. Let what 
is to be done be suited to the power of the 
indiridual to do. Ally inclination with 
duty, and let the desire to do well be para- 
mount to the desire to do much. 

In an elective course of study the teacher 
is necessarily more confident of attaining 
these desirable results than in a course where 
he is obhged to talk to many unwilUng ears. 
In teaching, as in oratory, success and en- 
thusiasm depend largely upon the attention 
paid by those to whom we speak, and the 
manner in which it is given. Pupils must be 
interested or they cannot be taught The 
instruction they receive must be given them 
by a zealous and enthusiastic teacher, or it 
will go no farther than their ears or lips. 
Our present College system is not calculated 
to arouse this interest and enthusiasm in 
the student or teacher. And it is not asking 
too much to demand that it be remodelled, 
and adapted to the wants of the mind as 
well as the wants of the age. The capacity 
of the indiWdual mind remains the same, 
while the field of intellectual action is widen- 
ing every day. A man now cannot know 
all sciences, any more than a workman can 
drive all trades. Let us di\ide and appor- 
tion labor, and do perfectly what we do at 
all. c. B. 


The American Avatar, 




The People of America have shown their 
spirit and liberality, in vulgar matters of trade 
and polity, by a scrupulous attention t<3 the 
advice and example of their superiors on tlie 
other side of the Atlantic ; but it continues 
to be regretted among their friends, that in 
the elegancies and refinements, especially of 
letters, they continue blind to the JulvanUiges ^ 
pf some institutions. With nothin;; to ro- 
vero but a set of traditionary i^aichnients, 
and nothing to admire but the empty noises 
of a few orators, and the shrewd somersets 
of certain cunning editors, — who demonstrate; 
by a laborious adroitness that the centre of 
gravity in man is nearer the stomach than 
the head, — the advent of a foreign wonder 
^ves opportunity among them for the burst- 
ing forth of a torrent of long-pent enthu- 

On the arrival of the famous chronidor of 
the Two Horsemen, as well as on the first an- 
nouncement of the AVoolly Iloi-se, the more 
thoughtful portion of the community were 
put m mind of the existence in the popular 
soul of an aching, distended faculty of wonder 
and worship, which seizes upon the most 
ridiculous and imbecile novelties to gratify 

The enthusiasm awakened by the arrivals 
alxn'e mentioned, havinir bv this time almc^st 
subsided, and the real nature of the two Iusuh 
naturce very generally known,* there is 
leisure to tliink u|)on the popuhir tendency 
itself of which they were the vents, and to 
devise, if possible, some permanent institu- 
tion of cure. 

A monarchy, with its valuable append- 
ages, cannot be looked for among a people 
so poor and rude as we ; though it must be 
confessed, a leaning tliat way may be ob- 

• The horse and the chronicler on a careful ex- 
■nrinitinp were proved to be in all respects like 
otlien of their ti^oaea, and very plain backs at that, 
the MDg^ peodiarity of the toool and the two 
hor$emeti entitling them to rank among curiosities. 

served among the select few, whose untiring 
efforts to introduce the manners and morals 
of a court among people of leisure, deser\='e 
hijxh commendation. 

In the painful absence of that grand and 
natural outlet, the people fall victims to an 
occasional ecstacy of an hysterical kind, 
bui*sting out upon everything novel or pre- 
sumptuous, or that has the least taint of 
mvst<"»rv alK)ut it. The malady is not indeed 
witljout its doetoi*s, who have their phar- 
m;icop(eia to allay rising irritations, and 
avert the catiistrophe of a true 7nania, One 
of these worthy practitioners, whase successes 
entitle him to our confidence and our fees, 
has even established a grand infirmary in 
this city, which is annually visited by my- 
riads. Among the methods of cure sug- 
gested by his powerful genius, and the 
collection of dned simples in his Museum, 
there is perhaps no possible variety of the 
diseiLse that cannot find its paUiativeat least, 
and perhaps its cure. 

In vi<'w of tln^ eminent services rendered 
by that Pei-son, we would here suggest that 
a grand school of design l)e estiiblished by 
Government, and named after him, in which, 
by eompetent masters, instruction shall bo 
given in the various curative processes in- 
vented by him. The cures are made princi- 
pally through the eye, by }>resenting certain 
forms nm\ ai>i>earau{.*es to the aftlicted ])t'rson. 
Tlie objects used, or made, for this purpose 
are niedicatt^d with a substance found in 
the bottom of the cup that was held by the 
Woman in the Apocaly[)se, and upset by 
Martin the monk. It is said to \xi a peculiar 
sHbsfaucv, or fii*st principle, without its peer 
in chemistry, and th(^ pei-son alluded to is 
supposed to be its rediscoverer in America. 

At tliis school instruction should be given 
in the various preparations of the Substimce ; 
th(j secret of preparing it in esse to be re- 
tained by Government for the common good. 
As, out of sugar, figures of every kind are 
fabric^ited for the solace of children and 


The American Avatar: 


idlers, ^so out of this mysterious Substance, 
spiced, tempered, sweetened, and painted to 
all tastes and fancies, the pupil may be 
taught to mould an infinite variety of things. 
We trust our readers will not think it too 
gross a trespass on their confidence, if we 
aver, that no product of human wisdom or 
ingenuity is so rare, so exquisite, or so com- 
phcated, as to escape imitation in this art. 
An epic poem, a pill, a statue, an Act of 
Congress, a patriot, a mermaid, and a pil- 
grim speech for a British Minister, can be 
moulded with equal facility out of this plastic 

^ Philoso])hers in dark ages talked of their 
elixirs, their univei*sal solvents, their alche- 
mical stones, their magna arcana^ and what 
not else ; but never, in all our readings, have 
we found a single proof of the existence of 
these. All, however, are comprehended 
under the one new Substance, since out of 
that, there is nothing so strange or incredible 
it cannot be devised. 

Of the value of this invention to any 
government it is not our cue to speak at pre- 
sent ; in fact, the crude material, adulterated 
with various inert mattei-s, has been in a 
kind of blind use by politicians, time out of 
mind. Our Inventor lays claim only to the 
discovery of the pure thing* 

That the fabrication o{ forms and appear- 
ances^ out of the thing which we are describ- 
ing, must be classed among fine or liberal 
arts, might be proven by many instances. 
Not to mention the vast quantities of books, 
pictures and ornamental work, composed now- 
a-days entirely, or with a large admixture of 
it, need we name the many distinguished 
oratoi-s, politicians, philoso})hers, editors, 
lawyere, doctors, musicians, and managers of 
theatres who rely upon it ? Indeed, hber- 
ahty of mind is generally thought necessary 
to a full understanding of its nature and 
properties. Tis needless, therefore, to waste 
argument upon that topic. 

Its original remains as yet an utter secret 
with the discoverer. In the absence of cer- 
tain proofs we have heard various conjec- 
tm-es upon its nature. Botanical investigators 

* To the curious reader it will be gratifying to 
learn that a series of scientific papers on some of 
the more recondite applications of the Substance, 
ii* being edited under the jocular title of Latter- 
"^y Pamplilets, by one Thomas Carlyle, a Scotch- 
n in England. 

contend that the pure Svhstantia Bami h 
the essential principle or alcaloid of the 
Ilumulus or Hop ; averring that it was first 
discovered in the bottom of a glass of Eng- 
lish ale. Tljis opinion they weakly support 
from the parasitic habits of the hop, and 
from the quantity of it grown in England, 
which they also declare is the native country 
and true habitat of the Principle itself. 

Another learned savan prefei*s the British 
ivy, which, he says, by its external traits 
betrays the presence of the substance ; it is 
^^creeping^ dirty, and dangling^ Others 
name a kind of stink -weed, well known for 
its anti-hysterical properties, and for its con- 
stant habitat in streets, by-ways, and pubUc 
squares, and wherever the earth is trodden 
bare by boofe of swine. 

Some of om* mineralogists, on the other 
hand, pretend they find it in the verd an- 
tique, but are certainly misled by the name 
of that stone, ancient greenness being but a 
loose translation of the name, and signifying 
none of its essential properties. Others again 
prefer the cobalt, on Rosicrusian grounds, 
Kobold being the demon of the mine, who 
obstructs useful labor, and robs industr}^ of 
its reward. By some, with a deep show of 
science, the mysterious properties of gold are 
attributed to the substantia Barni. Tliese 
speculatoi-s ridicule the old opinion that gold 
is a simple element, saying, that as it is of all 
things attracted by the Substance in question, 
that attraction must be explained by the 
presence of the same as one of its constituent 
parts. They reason clearly from their prin- 
ciple of similia similibus — in the vernacular, 
" Birds of a feather," <kc. Their skill in the 
practical uses, leads as to j)lace confidence in 
their chemical derivation of the new element 
As usual, the physiologists cannot be silent 
when their brother savans are talking, and 
affect to derive the new principle from a 
certain part of the brain of man^ but from 
what convolution they dispute. 

Unscientific people insist that it is all in 
their eyes ; but prejudices of the vulgar need 
not occupy us ; nor, if organs are in question, 
have the ears an inferior claim. Indeed, 
ver}' ancient authors have obscurely hinted 
a virtue in long eare ; impressible animals of 
quick hearing have long ears : it is possible 
that in future editions of the Pharmacopoeia, 
the auricular ai)pendages of long-eared ani- 
mals may be recommended in decoction 
before sitting down to the London Times. 


Sage^ Poet, and Sero, 


Impressed by the great importance of his 
cKsooveiy, we have pondered niucli and long 
by what publie testimonials our Inventor 
may he best honored, and his name and 
fame transmitted to j>ostprity. Titlos and 
armorial bearings cannot \w granted by onr 
Government; a difficult v casilv jjottcn over 
by a suitable application to the lilnglLsh, 
who have a coastitutional powor in such 
matters unlimited. Let the valuo of the 
discovery, as tested by himself in various 
diplomatic emergencies, be repn:^entod to 
her Britannic Majesty by that obsequious 
and obliging person, the 13ritish Minister, 
and a patent of nobility s(>licitod for the 
inventor. A coat of anus ho may adopt 
for himself ; and we would humblv suu:- 
gest, mstead of the unmeaning griftbn wliich 
adorns the coach-doors and tea-spoons of 
our republican gentry, a Humbug rampant 
on a field vert. 

As a more solid testimonial, we propose 
that an office be estiblished, hitherto un- 
known in this country, that of Poet Laureate, 
and that the distinguished Person so ofton 
alluded to, be made Patron of the office, >vith 
a suitable salary, to select a candidate — the 
merit of best celebrating the gnind discovery 
m verse to be the test of fitness ; for no man 
will doubt that the poet who can l)est cele- 
brate a virtue or a merit in gonoral, will 1m? 
as well fitted to do the samo for its partic- 

As wo now enjoy tho happiness; of li^^ng 
m an ajje that for the enoourajxcment of na- 1 
tive genius excels all that have gone iM-fore j 
it, — an age when virtue is by no nieftns su|>- ' 
posed to be its own reward, — we cannot but 
wish to see poetry restored to that dignity ! 
and profit which it enjoyed of old. And what 
more certain method can l)e found of raisin u ' 
it to that pristine dignity and splendor tlian ; 
the crowning of some worthy j>ractitioner of | 
the art with public honors ? Nor should a ! 
more substantial testimony be noglect(>d. j 
Fame is said to be tlie food of poets, ' 
though it might be shown, with some face ' 
of reason, that the greatest conoeival>le 
quantity of fome will not outweigh at need 
a single ounce of bread. We are neverthe- 
less persuaded that tho airy aliment does' 
serve upon occasions as a phicebo to the ap- ; 
petite, cheating nature with a windy disten- ! 
tion. j 

Now it b a matter of dispute among sa- 
vans, whether fiune itself, that airy principle 

hungered after by the mist-swallo'wing tribe 
of rhymesters, is not essentially one in its 
nature with the newly disc-overed Kuhstanda 
Barnl, The words /aw^rr, fame, and/a^nc*, 
hunger, are singularly alike in sound ; and 
if they are also in derivation, how fitting 
an ode. Ad Suhstantiam JJanii, might not 
bo written bv the amhitious candidate. 
Would it not be, an ode to Fame, the blest 
goddess of his soul i 

Cavillers will object that no poet, rising 
from extreme want to the sudden enjoyment 
of wealth, would thereafter produce rhymes; 
an objection merely sjK-culative, there being 
no instance, as we remember, of so singular 
an accident. The good meat and generous 
wine which he would discover in his crib one 
fine morninff would doubtless raise him to 
a high ]>itch of adoration and of gi*atitude, 
passions highly conducive to the production 
of an ode. Objectors, a kind of i)eo]^le who 
delight in throwing obstacles in the way of 
all amelioratioas, adduce the dangiT of such 
a proceeding from the case of Collins the 
poet, who was tunied into a drivelling idiot 
by a sudden rise of fortune. Folly, they 
say, lurks iii esse in the brain of the poet, 
and versos are the issue thereuf; and it 
would be a jnece of gratuitous malice to 
take away from a poor devil of a rhymester 
his sole means of a mental e<juilibrium, by 
clioking down his humor with a fat annuity. 

13v this obi* ction we confess oui'selves 
staggered. The mild attJiek of verse mala- 
dy which visits us in March, and alK>ut 
('hristnuis time, is a sensible n-lief to tho 
brnin; and whil(» one editor indulges in a 
Ixmt of drinking, anotluT in a tremendous 
dos<* of fre<»-trade statistics, another in an 
amourwith his neighbor's wife, and iniolher, 
more afflietccl still, in a duel, — r*ach accord- 
ing to the peculiar folly of his nature expel- 
ling the vicious humor, — we find ourstrlves 
fully reli«.'V(?d by a s(jnnet., which is a sensi- 
ble cause of gratitude ; of all vices, tlu^ son- 
net being the least injurious to the public, 
who in fact never rei^ard it. 

To meet the danger al)ove hinted, our 
Laureate might bo bound as a contractor, in 
the penalty of his income, to furnish each 
year a certain quantity (jf verse, which shall 
be examined by his patron, to condemn all 
rotten verses, point out metrical gaps and 
flaws to be filled in, and remand tho kid- 
napped and stolen oiu^s, without apj)eal or 
ben<?fit of habeas corpus. 


The American Avatar: 


Quantity is an element of the sublime 
and beautiful. Is not beauty proportion, and 
proportion a species of quantity? And is 
not magnitude a fundamental cause of the 
sublime ] The fecundity of Lope de Vega 
is an undying topic of praise and wonder, 
thouorh none read his works. Throuffh the 
eye, his fame lives in perpetuity to us. We 
have heard the authenticity of Homer seri- 
ously impugned, on the ground that no one 
man could have written so many verses; 
an objection easily set aside, since the appear- 
ance of our great American epic, "Liberty's 

And yet future generations — perhaps the 
very next generation of critics — so doth the 
wheel turn — will start a question of the au- 
thenticity of that poem, averring that no 
man could have written so much ; and they 
will pretend — an*ant skeptiCvS as they are — 
that it is a patch- work of school histories 
and old traditions, strung together by some 
ale-house club in the country. To save the 
valuable time of these, our star-pohce of 
letters, let an affidavit of its authorship be 
cut in epic type on the base-stone of the 
Wa'^hington Monument. 

We would here venture to suggest, though 
with sentunents of the deepest respect, that 
there remains one method of delighting and 
astonishing the world, as yet untried by our 
great Inventor, and of which we here put in 
the claim of first discovery. He has shown 
us the largest man and the smallest, side by 
side — contrast incredible! We have seen 
the most numerous orchestra, the largest 
hog, and the greatest fool in the univeree ; 
the longest picture too has amazed and 
satisfied us ; but we have not yet seen the 
LONGEST POEM. Let him, as the patron of 
our bard of bards, secure the credit of its 
production to our beloved country, and, with 
the progress of the sleejyers of our great Pa- 
cific Railroad, verse after vei*se, let the long- 
est poem move out in the direction of eter- 

Having his stint of so many thousand lines 
a year of this fame's ladder, with the liberty 
of a corps of verse-engineers or copyists, 
our contractor shall be required to deposit 
two fair copies of each year's work of his 
great Bagavatgeeta, or poem of gods and 
heroes, in the national library, after its read- 
ing before the assembled Houses. Would 
not the debates in Congress, rhymed in a 
flowing octo-syllabic verse, be the most valu- 

I able gift of each year to the year succeeding ; 
and would not the bosoms of our ardent 
patriots swell to the sonorous sound of their 
arguments, galloped along the metres of a 
\igorous epic ? After such a hearing, which 
could not occupy above six days, preceding 
the business of the session, would there not 
be an inclination to a more summary dis- 
patch of business, and the cost thereby saved 
keep a dozen epic poets in a style becoming 
the metrical historiographers of a great re- 
pubUc ? 

As is natural with reformers, the more 
objections wo discover and confute, the 
deeper we are in love with the project 
The ease with which the cavils of the bigot- 
ed and the fears of the skeptical give way 
before us in the course of this argument, 
leads us happily to beheve that all men will 
think as we do, and concede a general ap- 

Pubhc attention would be immediately 
turned upon the candidate for this oflSce; 
for it were an offense to decency and would 
raise gross suspicions were it to fall upon 
any obscure, or other than a celebrated per- 
son. Yet it would be unbecoming, on the 
other hand, to take away the breath out of 
men's mouths by plumping the matter in 
their faces without due preparation. K we 
first agree among ourselves upon the traits, 
talents and properties of an ideal American 
Poet Laureate, whose duty it shall be to sing 
the glories of each year to the audiences of 
the next, it will then be a task of httle diffi- 
culty to select the man : he will be chosen, 
as it were, by his deeds and his character. 

If we have rightly conceived him, he 
should be endowed with infinite humility 
and acquiescence, a mere mirror of his age ; 
his oyn\ personality sunk in that which he 
represents. The very genius of art is repre- 
sentation ; and could anything be more of- 
fensive than to find a poor devil of a rhyme- 
ster thrusting in his penury-stricken indi- 
vidualities amongst those of heroes and 
statesmen ? 

By this consideration we set aside what 
has sometimes been offered, that the poet of 
a war-like people should be endowed by 
nature with courage, the eminent property 
of a man. It was indeed said of Tasso, thie 
most courageous gentleman of his time, that 
in writing and in fighting he surpasscKl all 
the Italians, and on one occasion put three 
armed men to flight with his single rapier. 


Soge^ Paeij and Hero. 


Bf ftpanBel reason our republican Laureate 
ttooid excel hb peers in the use of the 
poi, thd pistol, and the sword. A nose 
and a rear viigin to assault, is the hard con- 
dition imposed by these unthinking critics 
iqioD our £^ic candidate We trust their 
tignments are already quashed. 

Few will contradict us if we put a strong 
head for drinking second among the qualifi- 
citioDs of our Laureate. Were it merely to 
be a sot^ a hundred would start forwaid at 
ODoe from the literary tribe, and a choice 
beeome impossible, through mere equal- 
itj of merit To drink always and never 
to be drunk is rare, and we have but one 
poet in our eye who can ascend upon the 
itROfftli of that virtue. When we conader 
ike demands that will be made upon the 
dnnkingpowerBof our Laureate, 1^ the grati- 
tade and good nature of the numerous ora- 
tOB and debaters, whose labors it will be his 
ipiified task to do into verse — ^the countless 
finneny jollifications, and social skirmishes, 
Si the repottitory of reputations, and the 
Mhbmtor id the people's idols, to which he 
imt submit^ a doubt arises whether strength 
rf head should not be first weighed in order, 
hr how much we value the life of a citizen 
ioofe oor own epic fimie. 

The choice of a Laureate, by the practice 
of antiquity, and of our patrons and models 
tlH> modern EnglUh, must be for life, and 
l»y the authority of some prince or royal 
{■erson: to which last wo can but approxi- 
mate iu that king of men and wonder of the 
age, our distinguished Inventor. No man 
^U be removed from tht^ station of Poet 
Laun^ati* during the term of his life,al though 
greater g^^niuses and Ixitter drinkers may 
vise in hl^ day. Rotation in this office can- 
M be thought of; for if any man has be- 
n4ne once a profi.'jised j)oet, he thereby seems 
to «piify by a kind of public confession, his 
iocajiacity for any useful art ; and the func- 
tion of bard, in this age of utilities, is conse- 
quently more prevalent among the gentler 
lei — much more then of a Laureate. It is 
laid of [KN'ts, as of another kind of artists, 

ooce a always a , once a rhymester 

alwap a rhymester ; but though a king^s 
niitraMy touching the eminence of her pro- 
faakm, may aspire to become the wife of a 
ttbject) the salaried laudator and bard of 
the nation could not with decency step into 
ULj useful employment, were it even the 
tiding of an apple stall 

We trust our democratic friends will not 
desecrate the sacred office of Vates to make 
it a prize of demagogues, subject to a vicious 
majority of one, wno may be, for aught they 
know, some rogue of a tailor, or bookseller. 
If the office of door-keeper could occupy 
two weeks of the precious assiduities of tne 
House, would there not be serious danger 
the office of Laudator General^ or door- 
keeper to the House of Fame, might excite 
a controversy that would consume an entire 
session, ending, perhaps, in the dissolution of 
the Union ? 

It is commonly believed there are but 
three things for which men will readily sa- 
crifice their reputation — to wit, place, money, 
or a mistress ; but when &me alone is m 
contest, it is dearer than life. Hence the re- 
quisites of our Laureate, submissiveness and a 
hard head. Sweet words turn away wrath, 
drink dissipates bad humors, and when a 
jolly Member finds himself etemallv lam- 
pooned, and traduced to all posterity by the 
mere octo-syllabification of his Bunkum fiis- 
tj^an, our Laureate will have no choice but to 
drink him under. 

These physical qualificadons are, however, 
among the least of our demand. Our arch- 
poet £ould be an improvisatore, or chanter 
of extempore verses upon any accidental 
topic, were it only the bleeding of a ho^seJ^^ 
with a power of magniloquence to over-dress 
the most contemptible topics ; for, sayeth 
Aristotle, " The ornate style is pro|>er to the 
moaner parts of a discourse," as the silliest 
fops require the longest toilette. ( J reat mat- 
ters recommend themselves, but the meaner 
the person, the more need hath he of good 

A tender and sentiment^il cast of mind may 
be set down among the essentials, tinged, if 
possible, with the scriptural or prophetic, to 
give a little more po])ular dignity to the 
function ; for, with political i)rophecies the 
ignorant are as ea'^ily amazed as with the 
mysterious predictions of a tricky card-player. 
Tlie ace of trumi)s will turn up at the crisis, 
and for good reasons, as he keeps it in his 
sleeve ; hence the expression, " to laugh in 
one's sleeve," which was not, as some igno- 
rantly suppose, derived from the large and 
flowing sleeves of bisliops. 

Our laudator should also be a professed 
and most distant, and, as it were, trembling 
admirer of the female sex. A bachelor were 
preferable for the office, from the fact, well 


The American Avatar: 


ascertained, that your married men abate 
much of their poetic enthusiasm, either from 
too hai-sh acquaintance with realities, or 
from nature diverted and quaHfied. 

In short, nothing should be omitted to 
insure a popular incumbency in an office not 
less important than the Papacy itself, if we 
consider it well, since nothing damns one 
more effectually than the praises of a medi- 
ocre poet ; which are a kind of excommuni- 
cation more dreadful to a man of sense, than 
the thunders of the Vatican ; as one would 
rather die by lightning than fall a victim to 
bad smells. Besides, both are the key-kcopei*3 
of eternity. Vox vatis vox Dei 

The learned Paulus Jovius has given an 
account of the ceremony practised on the 
induction of a Poet Laureate in the time of 
Leo Tenth. A learned and pious translator 
gives us the following version of his account: 

" Camillo, a plain countryman of Apulia, 
excited by the fame of the great encourage- 
ment given to poets at court, and the high 
honor in which they were held, came to the 
city, bringing with him a strange kind of 
lyre in his hand, and at least some twenty 
thousand of verses. All the wits and critics 
of the court flocked about him, delighted 
to see a clown, with a ruddy, halo com- 
plexion, and in his own long liau*, so top full 
of poetry ; and at the first sight of him all 
aijreed he was born to be Poet Laureate. He 
had a most hearty welcome in an island of 
the river Tiber," (an island in the Potomac 
would serve,) " where he was first made to 
eat and drink plentifully, and to repeat his 
verees to ever}'body. Then they adorned 
him with a new and elegant garland, com- 
posed of vine-leaves, laurel, and brassica, (a 
sort of cabbage,) so composed, says my 
author, emblematically, ut tarn false quam 
lepide ejus temulentia^ hrassicm rcmedio co- 
hibenda, notaretur. He was then saluted, 
by common consent, with the title of Archi- 
poeta, or arch-poet in the style of those days, 
in oui*s. Poet Laureate. This honor the poor 
man received with the most sensible demon- 
strations of joy, his eyes drunk with tears and 
gladness. Next the pubhc acclamation was 
expressed in a canticle, which is transmitted 
to us, and may be translated — 

* All liail, Arch-poet, without peer 
Vine, bay, or cabbage fit to wear, 
And worthy of the prince's ear.* 

" From hence he w^as conducted in pomp 

to the Capitol of Rome, mounted on an ele- 
phant, through the shouts of the populace, 
where the ceremony ended. 

" At his introduction to Leo, he not only 
poured forth verses innumerable like a tor- 
rent, but also sung them with open mouth, 
(patulo ore;) nor was he only once intro- 
duced, or on stated days, (like our Laureate,) 
but made a companion to his master, ana 
entertained as one of the instruments of his 
most elegant pleasures. When the prince 
was at table, the poet had his place at the 
window. When the prince had half eaten 
his meat, (seinesis apsoniis,) he gave, with 
his own hands, the rest to the poet^ Allien 
the poet drank, it was out of the prince's own 
flagon. Insomuch, says the historian, that 
through so great good eating and drink- 
ing, he contracted a most terrible gout" 
Sorry am I to relate what follows, continues 
our judicious translator, but that I cannot 
leave my reader's curiosity unsatisfied in the 
catastrophe of this extraordinar)' man. To 
use my author's words, which are remarkable, 
Mortuo Leone, profligatisque poet is, etc. : 

" When Leo died and poets were no more, 
(for I would not understand jtrofUgatii 
literally, as if poets then were profligate,) 
this unhappy Laureate was forthwith re- 
duced to return to his own country, where, 
oppressed with old age and want, he miser- 
ably perished in a common hospital." 

From this descrij)tion we are led to form 
an enthusiastic opinion of the pastoral sim- 
phcity of those days ; but it will be clearly 
difficult to institute a similar ceremony, from 
the present cold indifference to poetic merit : 
an indifference in some degree creditable 
however to the age itself, which produces so 
vast an abundance of bards as to have a 
cheapening eflfect upon their productions, 
though it takes nothing from individual 
merit; for clearly, the existence of a thou- 
sand Iliads of equal abihty does not detract 
from the merit of any one of them, though 
it may take something from our ignorant 
veneration of the same. 

As a faint imitation of the ceremony de- 
scribed by Jovius, we may substitute a mag- 
nificent Progress from the birth-place or 
residence of our Arch-poet to the Capitol. 
This progress will give the artists of all 
kinds an opportunity of exhibiting their 
parts. Statuaries, painters, model artists, 
singers, dancers, players upon musical in- 
struments, theatrical performers, Bunkum 


1851. Sage^ Poet, and Hero, 166 

speakers, froe-trade locturors, mesmerizers, 
homoeoijathists, inenagt^ric kwpers, pill-voiid- 

a!ms, and these followed by a tattered ITain- 
Ist of inajestii* ];oit, like a grand Sjauish 

ders, advertisers, editors, et id genm ojnjie, beggar, making inoullis at the crowd. 
the grand company of showmen, each with I l^ut the most magnifict-nt and glonous 
their several wares, and engaged in the | spectacle of all, and most congenial to the 
oocapatioDS proper to their art, esc«.>rted by . h(rart of a true juitriot, was a brazen trium- 
a company of poets and sonneteers, a grand | phal car of foreign merchants, «lrawn by 
festival procession of the Arts, headed by j a hundred stur«ly corn-growers and cotton- 
omr great Inventor and his Areli-poet on an i planters, and followed by a line of beggared 
elephant, would be a spectacle to rival the ! artisans witli tlieir wives and chiMren, trail- 
World's Fair, and that would bo followed [ i"g disconsolat«-ly behind, along th(; dusty 
bj as many myriads as ever sweated at the • road. Over the magnificent car the broad 
wheels of a triumphal chariot, golden banner of the Tree-tradei-s floated on 

the breeze, displaying the fable of the lion 

"Id the most high and palmy stato of Rome." 
Emblems and devices the most extraordi- 

and the eagle contending tor a prize which 
the jackal steals away. The carved devices 

naiy might bo devised for the illustration ■ of the chariot, like those of the famous shield 
of so magnificent a scene. of Achilles, were worthy of the world's ad- 

The broad banner of the Continent, em- miration, and of a Homer's descriptive skill. 
blazoned with the grand device of the nine- j llic name of the chariot was >fonopoly. 
teenth century, a lion swallowing an eagle, ' Tlie whc»els were spoked with pleasiut false- 
banning at the head, would float becom- ' hoods and turned ujiou humomus decej>- 
ingjy over each group. i tions. Jolly eyes winked from the naves, and 

^vhile we were indulging our imagina- ' grotesque grimaces grinned alung the tires. 
tion with the conception of this grand occa- ■ Tlie beam of the charii>t was a va>t sea- 
Mon, sleep stole gradually upon us, and the snake, car^•ed in British oak, and a seri,:s of 
images of fancy took a hue of reality ; we bas reliefs, representing the merry d« -vices of 
teemed to see tiie grand pageant ])assing by ; the money-changers, humoring and fleecing 
interminable. ! an over-wise Yank«>e, raised a ceaseless smile 

On a car drawn by two mules, in the '■ on the faces of the crowd. The driver, a sly 
guise of Harpies, with paper wings and gold little man, sat holding a slack rein behin<l 
daws, a dozen authors appeared seated, ■ two miserable wind-galled and sj-avined 
each employed in copying and clipping ' hack?, covered ^^ith gold trappings, all du^t 
from the advanced sheets of some new work and cobwebs, named Malthus and iJicardo. 
just received from London, which they A long cord, attached to th<; silver hook of 
delivered to a car of pressmen following, the tongue, and comj»osed of a p«culiar 
who printed and scattered them among the j twisted gut, call«Ml Credit, a tlicnisand tim^s 
crowd. After these walked a caravan of; stronger than liddle strings, gave a hold 
tattered wretchcsyon foot, driven along by a , to the enthusiasts who dn.*w the cai*. Im- 
wol^ and vainly endeavoring to write on the ' hind, on a kind <>f j)lati'onn, stood three 
nails of their fingers, or on the fly-leaves of . scare-<-rows, made out of suits of clotlns 
English books. Tliese were followed by a , stuffl-d with eabbago litter, reprrsenting a 
nbble of printers, tailors, and bar-keepers, Frenchman, a (nanian, and an Kngli^hman. 
hooting and pelting. Each h«'ld in its hand a reei}'rocity treaty 

A car of well-dressed painters coloring and a bill of exchange. Over these amiable 
fixeign engravings followed these, with a figures floateil another broa<l banner with 
banner inscribed," Study the Great Masters;'' the words Ad ralur(in/\\\ black-letter, to 
and after them another miserable rout of signify that the p<'oj.le do not ^uiie under- 
footmen with haggard countenances, sketch- stand it. f^ver and anon a trumpeter, an 
ing snatches of scenery as they passed on. Englishman dressed like an American, blew 
purBoed by a shrewish widow in a dirty cap, ^ a brass trumjiet in tlu- car. 1'he notes of 
with a bundle of bills in one hand, and | the trump( t had a queer, wiry Sijund, and 
belaboring those nearest her with a piece of i clouds of little wiry statistics swarnie«l oul. 
eold meat in the other. ; of his mouth and filled the air with a kind 

After another car bearing a set of jolly of dust, which made every body ct^ugli aud 
acton, ran a rabble of play-writers soliciting sneeze, and shut tli<;ir eyes. 


The American Avatar : Sa^e, Poet, and Hero. 


Behind this car ran a footman with a let- 
ter of recommendation posted on his fore- 
head, signed li. J. ^Yalker. But the oddest 
peculiarity of this figure was tlie quantity 
of shirts he wore. His actual dimensions 
were singularly small, but, by putting on a 
vast thickness of shirts, he had swelled him- 
self to a monstrous shape. The footman in 
the shirts was evidently much respected by 
the crowd of ragged literati who followed, 
and could hardly contain their admiration 
and longing. Occasionally our footman 
slipped off one of the shirts, and exchanged 
it with one of his stiirveling followers for a 
paper. This he handed up to the trumpeter 
who put it into his mouth, and then blew 
it through his bniss instrument, multiplied 
by some wondeiful magic into two thousand 
dabs of poisonous black mud, which fell all 
about, and if any of it lighted on a bit of 
home-made linen or broadcloth, it burned a 
hole through it, straight. 

Immediately after the car of Free Trade 
came the chariot of Foreign Fiishions, driven 
by a baby-fiiced fellow in white kids. This 
vehicle was a phaeton emblazoned all over 
with coats of arms, and carried the wives 
of the gentlemen who rode in the car of 
Free Trade. These ladies were gorgeously 
apparelled, and presented a very pretty ap- 
pearance, especially when the driver turned 
in his seat and tickled their ankles with a 
neat little pen which he flourished instead 
of a whip. The most curious feature of this 
pageant was the manner in which motion 
was given to the vehicle itself^ for, instead 
of horees, it was drawn by a crowd of poor 
seamstresses and gawky country girls, who 
stumbled along with their faces turned back- 
ward toward the driver. 

Behind all, and sur[)assing all in magnifi- 
cence, rode a figure on horseback, the grand 
marshiil of the festival. On his head he 
wore "what seemed a crown," but which 
was in fact a steel boarding cap. The per- 
son of this horseman was entirely covered 
with an embroidered cloak of gold cloth, 
sparkling with Indian gems ; and when the 
^vind raised it, he appeared armed from top 
to toe, with every kind of weapon, swords, 

knives and daggers half drawn, pistols half 
cocked, and a forest of nameless arms, all, 
as it were, alive and sensible. His person 
seemed covered with blood and gore, as if 
fresh from a hundred massacres. Along 
the edges of the cloak, in small diamond 
lettei-s, you might read " Elsinore," " Acre," 
" Glencoe," "Groton Heights," " Dartmoor," 
"The Punjaub," "Irish Famines," **St 
Helena," the "^Middle Passage," and a 
hundred other names significant of events ; 
and some unfinished work on another 

seam thus, Tigre Islan , Costa Rica, 

" Rotan," M — q — to, Carthage — a, Balize, 
which the maker of the garment had not 
yet fully emblazoned in the jewelled let- 

The steed of this preux chevalier was a 
black stud horse of Norman breed, with a 
brown and wicked eye, and^hoofe as small 
and sharp as a chamois, by which he had 
the singular power of poising himself upon 
the merest point of rock, w^ere it in the 
middle of the ocean, or on a single rolling 
pebble, so securely, nothing but the broad- 
side of a seventy -four could drive Imn offl 
The right flank of the animal had the 
brand " Downing Street." 

At a gesture of the horseman's arm, the 
procession paused, or moved on. The air 
rang with the acclamations of the country 
people ; the ladies in the car of Fashion waved 
their handkerchiefs, and the gentlemen in 
the Free-trade chariot give three times three 
for the rider and his good black steed. 

Then I heard a long wailing cry, mingled 
with shouts of execration in the distance, 
and a multitude of men went by, driving 
carts and wagons, filled with haggard 
women and children, each with a banner 
inscribed, " Far West," " Ague," " Solitude," 
" Bankruptcy ;" while in the distance rose, 
like a mirage, the phantasm of a deserted 
village, where the raftei-s of a huge ruin 
stood hke a curee written on the red and 
tinking sun. A wretched ploughman near by 
left his plough in the weedy furrow, and 
turned the fac^ of his meagre oxen toward 
the AVest; and, with the sadness of the spec- 
tacle, I awoke. 



Robert Southey, 



There is a species of cven-luiiulod justice 
attending litonuy men, wliicli generally 
makes all straight in the end; the old 
axiom of " Extremes meet" seems to govern 
this rule, and in proportion as an author is 
abused by some, he is lauded by othere, 
not only personally but poetically, lliereare, 
of course, the usual exceptions, — ^sonie one 
way, as Walter Scott, — some the other, as in 
the case of Southey ; but action and re- 
action is a principle of nature. 

We doubt if there ever were a writer so 
fiercely nlified as the author of "Wat 
lyier," who had so little of tlie pleasantcn* 
ade of praise administered to him in his 
Gfetime, notwithstanding his influence and 
podtion. There has" not even been the 
lunal re-action when the grave has conse- 
crated his virtues, and obliterated his fail- 
ings ; indeed, so far as we may be allowed 
to judge from present appearances, he scorns 
already shrinking into the very narrow com- 
pass of his " Life of Nelson," and the poem 
nerepudiated, ** Wat Tyler I" That ] ►ostc;rily 
may reverse this decision is jiossil^lc, al- 
Aough, taking the as a guide, not pn>]> 
able. The two causes which deprived him 
of enthusiastic eulogizers during his life, will 
operate, we think, even more condusi; ely as 
the circle expands, and deposit him on the 
Meak shore of respectability, lt.'aving him 
&iiher removed from human symjiatliy as 
the tide of time recedes. 

The causes we allude to are, his want of 
high or distinctive genius, and moral geni- 
ality. In the greatest imaginations these arc 
generally found together, Jis in Ilomer, Ariosto, 
Siakspeare, and Cervantes. Some? cases, 
however, exist in which they are separated, 
IB in Dante and Milton ; but possibly in 
both these latter instances jjolitical and do- 
mestic sorrows, as well as the se\ ere temper 
cf the times, may have had a modifying, if 
not an altc^ether deviating influence uj>()n 
them, which if not exercised would have kit 
them Jis jovial fellows as Anacreon himself. 

That Southey wfis altogether dificient in 
that logical and creative phrt-nzy (if we mav 
like Willis or Emerson coin on our own ac- 
count) which our great Anglo-Saxon poet 
calls " a fine phrenz}- " — (we advisedly say our^ 
forShakspeareas much belongs to the Ameri- 
can peof)le as he does to the English, seeing 
that our ancestoi-s clahned him as a fellow- 
citizon) — that Southey was deficient in this 
godlike faeulty is evident to any who has 
read all or even anv of his vohmiinous 
poems; that he was destitute of bonhomie 
was as equally aj)parent to a casual ac- 
quaintance, or an old friend. 

lie had no impulse. Li a word, we may 
define him as the Genius of Routine ; that 
was the only genius he possessed. Li say- 
ing this let our reader's clearly understand 
that we neither undervalue nor disparage 
Southey, oi* the regularity of which he was 
so striking an exainj)le ; we merely define 
what he really was, just a*^ a mathematician 
means no insult to a triangle when he says 
it is not a circle. Indeed, t<) burrow a ireo- 
meti'ical term, Suutliey was eminently an 
angular mind : he did not incorporate in his 
own nature the knowledge he was constantly 
acquiring ; he merely added it to what he 
already had. Knowledge made Soutliey 
learned, it made Sliaksj»eare ; it enabled 
the one to alter and illustrate, tlK' uther to 
create iuu\ beautifv ; it enriched the nature 
of the one, but only the recollection of the 
other. Knowledge made the author of JJain- 
let philusophical ami imaginative ; it ren- 
dered the writer of Tliala])a j-'i-olix and 
fanciful ; it was a telescope and a nucrv>coi;e 
to Shakspoare, a men; pair of eolore«l sp<cta- 
des to Southey. We re]>eat, that in select- 
ing the greatest of poets for this parallel, 
we have no wi^h to depr«'ciate, but simply 
to take the highest of (;acli clasv;, in order 
to render the contiu-i nionj strikini;:. 

liobert Southey, working out liis own 
original nature honestly, is entitl-d to iu^ 
nnich respect as William Shakspeare : for 

* Tlie Life and Correspondence of Robert Soutliey, LL.D. Kdited by liis son, llcv. Cliarles 
Cothbcrt Southey. Now- York : Harper <t Brothers. 


Robert Sou they. 


this we have the incontrovertible evidence 
of Holy Writ, as illustrated by the parable of 
the talents. We shall not even condemn 
him for his remarkable clumge of opinion 
in religion and politics : for this also he 
had the precedence of a sacred example 
in St. Paul so far as the right of search 
and change is concerned ; but he had no 
authority for his malignant persecution of 
those who continued to hold the same 
opinions jis he had once entertained. Surely, 
this ought to have counselled charity ; but 
it is a singular proof of human bUndness, 
that men never hate themselves for their 
former haresies ! Let us, therefore, set an 
example of charity ourselves, and suggest 
that it is merely the opinions they hate, 
after all, and not the men. 

We remember Serijeant Talfourd used this 
argumentum ad hominem with great eflfect 
on a trial for rioting at Gloucester. Baron 
Gurney, a very able but severe judge, who 
presided, had been, during the French Revo- 
lution, one of the Jacobin Club in Lon- 
don, notorious for its anarchical principles. 
This was well known to Talfourd, who de- 
fended the rebels, and who was so irritated at 
the judge's undue leaning against the pris- 
oners, that in the defence he begged " his 
lordship would reflect if in his own expe- 
rience he did not remember any one who 
had formerly been an ardent admirer and 
correspondent of Robespierre and Marat ; 
one who was also a member of a club, whose 
toasts were such as, ' The lieart of a king 
grilled on the ribs of his minister;' and 
whether he was not now one of the most 
distinguished ornaments of the bench ; and 
what would have been his fate had no time 
Ikjou given to him to repent, and repay the 
society he had outraged," &c. This had so 
great an cfToct, that in his charge the con- 
sciencivstruck (Turnoy directed the jury to 
acquit them, with only a severe reprimand. 

Men should bear in mind that uniformity 
of opinion would soon become a dead level of 
intellect. Indeed, what divei-sity of vscenery 
is to the picturesque, variety of mind is to 
the intolli ctual world. If all men thought 
alike, Inuiian nature would soon become a 
putrefaction of bigotry — a dead sea of idiocy. 
Heresy seems to be the gastric juice of the 
human race. The first utterance of a new 
doctrine is considered an offense ; but in 
time it becomes the standard of faith, and, 
forgetful of its own youthful struggles and 

sufferings, assumes in its old age the persecu- 
tor. Thus, strangely as it may sound, the 
blasphemy of one age becomes the reli^on 
of the next ; opinions like billows roll on, 
one after the other, swallowing each other, 
or harmoniously subsiding into the vast 
ocean of Truth. 

We have thought it necessary to make 
these preliminary remarks in order that our 
readers may the better comprehend our 
view of Southey, and his aspect of society. 
It will however be advisable to glance 
hastily at his intimates and contemporaries 
before we fairly enter upon his own particu- 
lar life and correspondence. These were 
undoubtedly some of the most remarkable 
men the world of genius has produced ; we 
shall however confine oureelves to those 
most immediately acting upon his conduct 
and opinions. 

Coleridge, Lloyd, and Lovell were those 
who were his first intellectual associates; 
after a time, Wordsworth, Lamb, and Cottle 
were added. All these were men of a pecu- 
liar stamp, some of the highest powers. The 
greatest was undoubtedly Coleridge, not 
only for his attainments, imagination, and 
enthusiasm, but also on account of the elo- 
quence with which he advocated any sys- 
tem he ado])ted ; even his inconsistency gave 
a poetical charm to his conduct ! Ever 
the slave of impulse, but preser\^ed from 
vice by one of the most gorgeous, and, at 
the same time, subtle imaginations vouch- 
safed to a human being, the author of 
Christabel was at once a giant and a child. 
While his comprehensive and logical mind 
detected at a glance the most plausible 
so])hism of another, he was constantly be- 
wildered in those of his own creation ; his 
silken clue inevitably failed him in the 
labyrinth of his own planning; he was 
no Daniel in the den of his own lions! 
Coleridge was to himself throughout his life, 
what the Spectre was to the hero of one of 
Calderon's plays, the name of which we fo^ 
got : he always found himself opposed and 
overthrown by himaelf. Like a silk-worm he 
lived in a world of his own spinning, and 
which was destined eventually to be his 
shroud. We have little hesitation in stating 
that we do not believe there has ever been 
an instance of a man of equal genius so en- 
tirely giving himself up to such flimsy delu- 
sions and sophisms as Coleridge did firom 
his very boyhood. Lamb defined him ex- 


Robert Southey, 


actly when he called him '* the Inspired 
Chnst School Boy.'' Ho never outgrow his 
gigantic hoyhood. Fresh from tlie trammels 
kA school, he longed to plant idylls and 
edogues on the banks of the Susquehanna, 
of which he was to be one of the piping 
Coiydons, with some young I'hillis fond of 
throwing love-apples at him, and listening to 
his strains, and always giving the award in 
bis fiivor. A variety of caases combined 
gave a smiilar tendency to the more practi- 
cal mind of Southey. ]3ut a fortunate want 
of money saved them from this egregious 
folly; for there never were two men loss 
fitted for emigration to a new world than 
they were. 

Love, poverty, a vague aspiration for 
liberty, and a restlessness, which vSouthoy 
finally conquered, were the motivej^ which 
led him to entertain the Pautisocratic scheme. 
It 18 a mistake to 8up|)0se Wordsworth 
ever for an instant was mixed up in this 
Utopian dream ; indeed, the bare suspicion 
aimoyed him so much, tliat on tlio publicii- 
tioa of Chorley's " Authors of England " in 
1842, the old poet requested the writer of 
tluB article to beg Mr. Chorley would cor- 

insanity should also develop itself in these 
ladies. Edith, Mrs. Southey, died insane 
after hngering in that state some years, and 
Mrs. Coleridge has act<.'d so strangely through 
all her Ufe as to cause considerable appre- 
hension in her hiends' minds for the ultimate 

Wordsworth's influence on Southey was 
small, notwithstanding the respect which ho 
( ntertiiinod for tho great philosopliieal poet. 
This i>artly arose from their not coming 
together at Southey 's plastic ago ; for like 
hot lava, Southey hardened very soon. Tliis 
is curiously developed in the corres]K)ndence 
now Ix^fore us ; ho seems at onoe to spring 
from Pantisocracy to common sense, in tlio 
commonest accept^ition of the term. ]^y-the- 
bye, while we think of it, we may ask tho 
accomplished and conscientious editor why 
he Inis omitted a letter from his father to Cole- 
ridge respecting the lattor's disinclination to 
marry Miss Sarah Fricker? It was written in 
reply to one from Coleridge, " in which he 
stilted very weighty n^asons why he should not 
marry just then, but leaving it to Southey to 
decide wh<'tlier he thought he was bound in 
honor to fulfil liis engagement immediately^'* 

lect the mistake he had made in his life of Southey 's answer was lengthy and decisive, 

Coleridge, where Wordswortli figures as 
one of the emigrant party. 

The head and front of this " Empire Plan" 
WM really LoveU ; but a practical view of the 
wh(de question dissipated the chimera. 

Both Lloyd and IjovcU were singular 
beings. The fonner was evidently tinged 
with insanity even at that early i)eriod ; 
towards his middle age it showed itself so 
onmistakftbly that he was placed in a Lunatic 
i^ylom, where he sj^ent most of his remiiin- 
ing years ; he was eventually killed in en- 
doivoringto escape from one in France, not 

and determined Coleridge at once to marr}', 
among difllculties ami)ly illustrated in Cot- 
tle's ''Recollections," and from which wo 
question if he ever thoroughly emerged. The 
(xillmans, of lligligate, Iiavo a copy of this 
interesting epistle. It would throw a little 
light upon th<.^ state of Coleri<.lge's heart, 
which might yn'rhaps clear up the <larkness 
whicli now a])pan^ntly hangs ov<^r his long 
separation fr<.»ni his ''besonneted Sara!" 

It is only due to tli(» departed poet's 
meinorv to rem('ni]>i'r that his chil<lren, 
Hartley, I )erw('nt, an<l Sara, wer(^ to the last 

many years ago. In addition to being a most atrectionat<'ly attach<'d to thrir father, 
lunatic, he was also a jKXjt, and he had the ! at tin; same, time not forg(?tting their duty to 

honor of helping Coleridge and Southed' to 
fill up their first volume of ])oems published 
st Bristol by their friend Cottle. lasanity 
and poetry are hereditary in Lloyd's family, 
for his eldest son, who is a scholar, a Chris- 
tum, a man of fortune, and an elegant poet, 
has been for some years under partial 
lestrunt. We know him well, and have 
heard from him the statements we have just 
made, and confirmed by othei-s. 

LoveU was Coleridge and Southey's bro- 
ther-in-law, the three having married the 
three MiflseB Fridker. Stnmgo enough that 

their mc'ther. This is a volume in Coleridge's 
favor more conclusive than any he lia>^ writ- 
ten himself ; for no such three children, 
perhaps, ever came together, i itlier fur intel- 
lect, conscientiousness, or rectitude. 

After this little sketching, let us introduce 
tlie hrro of the pn'sent drama. 

Southey thus i-ecords his own birth : — 
" My birthday was Friday, 1 2th August^ 
17*74; tho time, half-pjvst eight in the 
morning, according to th(» family P>ible. 
According to my astrological friend (nlbert, 
it was a few minutes before the half hour, 


Robert Southey. 


in consequence of wliicli I am to have a | 
pain in the bo^vols when I am about thirty, ' 
and rFupitcr is my deadly enemy, but I may I 
thank tlie stars *for a gloomy capability of 
■\valkin<x throurrh desolation.' " On liis arri- ' 
val the nurse declared " he was a great ugly 
bogy So even from the very first Southey 
had to endun? unpalatal)le criticism. j 

In his fourth year he was sent to a little j 
daily school, where he first learned to dis- j 
tiniruish the difference between " a B and a 
bull's foot," and other agreeable distinctions. 
Here he remainc^d two yeai-s, p.'j*ssing most 
of his time at his aunt's, Miss Tyler, who 
seems to have V)^en a sincere, though occa- 
sionally unreasonable friend, till his mar- 
riage, when their rupture was final. Southey 
always had a high o}»inion of this lady's in- 
tellect, and there is no telling how much he 
might owe unconsciously to her pervading 
influence, and constant association: indi- 
rectly she gave the bias to poetry, owing to 
her intimacy with the family of the manager 
of the Bath and Bristol theatres. We refer 
to this part of his memoii*s for a very tragic 
event connected with this family. Even so 
early as his fourth year he was in the habit 
of beinir taken to the theatre, which fact was 
also impressed upon his mind by a repri- 
mand he received fjr confounding the 
theatrical with the ecclesiastical terms, and 
saying after church one Sunday, "that there 
was a very full housed The fii*st play he 
saw was a comedy by Fielding, called The 
Fathers, a curious foreshadowing of the 
Fathei*s which in his old age occupied so 
much of his studies. At six years old he 
obtained without effort what oiu* fair friend 
Lucretia Mott is now desperately struggling 
for — he was breeched: his recollection must 
have been singularly vivid, for in after years 
he remembered the dress, which was nankeen 
trimnud with green fringe. 

He was now sent to Mr. Foot's, a dissent- 
ing minister, where he remained a year. His 
recollections of this school were very im- 
pleasant. The death of tlic master released 
him from this bon<lage. He was then placed 
at Coi'ston, a village about nine miles from 
Bristol: in a ]K);in called The Retrosj)ect, 
South«'V in nlb'r vears alludes to it with 
much pathos. After a year's domicile here 
he was taken awny, and spent the time 
with his aunt, wh«> had broken up her 
establishment at I>ath, and settled at Bed- 

After a short holiday, he was placed as a 
day boarder at a school in Bristol, kept by 
a Welshman, who rejoiced in the echoing 
name of William Williams. It was at this 
time that Robert made his first attempts on 
the muse, which, he says, gave him im- 
mense pleasure. The first book he read 
thorougldy was Shakspeare, and Titus An- 
dronicus was his favorite drama. Before he 
was eight he had read Beaumont and 
Fletcher through. 

It wiis about this time that he announced 
to his aunt the wonderful discovery he had 
made, and one Avhich most American authors 
think they can do, viz., write a play ! Little 
Robert said, " It is the easiest thing in the 
world, aunt, to write a play !" " Is it, my 
dear?" replied the lady. "Yes," rejoined 
our little poetling ; " you have only to think 
what you would say if you were in that per- 
son's place, and say it for them !" 

We are afraid upon this plan too many 
dramatists write, which will account for the 
egotistical monologues published now-a- 

For the gratification of those who are fond 
of finking names together, we may as well 
mention that Ilendei'son, the great trage- 
dian, was an intimate friend of Miss Tyler, 
although Southey could not remember that 
he had ever seen him : he however cher- 
ished a perfect recollection of the celebrated 
actor Edwin, who presented him with a 

At this time a lady gave him "Hoole's 
Tasso," wiiich aflforded him intense delight. 
Shortly aflerwards his young fancy was 
fired by the same autlior's translation of 
Ariosto. Seeing the name of Si)enser in 
the notes, he obtained a copy, and despite 
the Old English character in which it was 
pnnt<:'d, soon mastered the treasures of that 
most poetical of poets, 

Southey truly says in one of his autobio- 
graphical chaptei-s, " My memory strengthens 
as I proceed in this task of retrospection; 
and yet, while some circumstances — a look — 
a sound — a gesture, though utterly unim- 
portant, recur to me more Aividly than the 
transactions of yesterday, others, which I 
would fain call to mind, are irrevocably 



To a man of perfect leisure and happy 
circumstances, few pleasures can be compar- 
able to thus living again in the past. — sor- 
row taken firom misfortune, and guilt from 


jRobert Southty. 


pleaBore. Moofe has vory happily expressed 
this retrospection: 

" Sigfaing, as o'er the shadowy past» 
Like a tomh-scarchcr, Memorj ran 
Lifting the shroud that Time had caat 
O'er buried hopeii.*' 

We now and then come upon pithy 
aiioms, such as — (Southey is talking of his 
flchoohnaster) : " W hen his ill ciroumstjinces 
pressed upon him, ho gave way perliaps 
more readily to impulses of anger ; because 
anger, like drunkenness, sus}>ends tlie sense 
of care, and an irascible emotion is felt as a 
reKef firom painful thought*^." This is how- 
erer only half the case : anger is an excitement, 
and consequently suspends the duller sense 
of care, or any other equable sbito of mind ; 
but Southey forgets, or perhaps never knew, 
that the real cause of the phenomenon is the 
weakness of mind, resulting from the irrita- 
tkMi of the mosquito bites of buzzing animals, 
who very properly sting sleeping (le])tors till 
thfiy wake and pay. 

We have however, a few passages further 
on, a proof of how little a leaniod man is a 
wise-one. "Ho would strike with a ruler 
lometimes when his patience was greatly 
pnn'oked by that incorrigible stupidity 
which of all things, perhaps, puts j>atience 
to the severest trial." 

Let us tell our readers that of the thioe, 
the blockhead, the master, and the apolo- 
gist, the most incorrigible fo^jls are the 
schoolmaster for striking, and the Laiiroato 
for defending the blow. Mr. Southey 's jok(», 
too, about punisliing a creole, is a i)roof of 

I his want oi humor. We will not quote 
the joke, ha\ing no wish " to throw a damp 
upon a funeral." 

We have, however, a most serious charge 
against the author of Kehaina, and ono. of 
hjs own conncting : we quote verbatim his 
Teiy words : — 

"One of them (evidently by his name of French 
€itiactioo) was, however, the most thon)ii<^hly 
fiendish human being that I have ever known. 
Tliere ia an image in Kehaina, drawn from my 
reoollectian of the devilish malignity which ufled 
Mmetimes to glow in Itis dark eyes, though I 
toM not there give thc1iken(>H8 in its whole force, 
fcr bis oountenaoce used to darken with tlic hlack- 
neu of hia passion. Happily for the slaves on the 
funilj estate, he, though a Bi>cond brother, was 
wealthy enough to settle in Knghuid ; and an anec- 
dote whidi I beard of him when he was ahuut 
thirty yean of age, will show tliat I have nut 

spoken of his character too strongly. When he 
was sliootiug one day. his dog committed some 
fault He would liave shot him for this upon the 
spot, if his companion had not turned his gun a«ide, 
and, as he supposed, succeeded in appeasing him ; 
but, when the sport was ove*, to the horror of 
that companion, (who related tlie story to me,) he 
took up a large stone and knocked out tlie (log's 
brains. I have mentioned this wretch, wlio miglit 
otherwise liavo better been forgotten, for a chari- 
table reason; because I verily believe tliat his 
wickedness was truly an original, innate, constitu- 
tional sin, and just as nmch a family dise!U<c as 
gout or scrofula. I think so, because be liad a 
nephew who was placed as a pupil witli King, the 
surgeon at Clifton, and in whom, at first sight, I 
recognized a physiognomy which I hope can be 
long to no other breed. His nephew answered in 
I all rcsoccts to the relationship, and to the charac- 
ter whicli nature had written in every lineament of 
his face. He ran a short career of knaver}', pro- 
fligacy, and crimes, which led him into a prison, 
and there ho died by his own hand." 

Tlie commonest ol)ser\'er must remark the 
tender difterence with which he treats the 
rej)utfition of a iivinf/ rich man, to the dead 
memory <>f th<? ]^o<jr dependent Farther on 
w<* have another phase of character : our 
space, however, will not allow us to (^u<;te; 
wo must therefore content ourselves by re- 
questing our reader's attention tu Southey's 
account of his interview with an old school-* 
fellow, whom he designat<>s under tJKi in- 
itials J.I. (). They will ihid it at the close 
of chapter xii. We question if a more sin- 
gular confession of feeling was ever before 
so ingenuously given to the world. 

There are many naive admLssion.s in his 
autobiography, which, for a man of the 
Laureate's caution, strike us as remarkable. 
In Some very pertinent remarks on jjoetry he 
observes : " in the earliest ages, certain it is 
that they who jMjssessed that gift of speech 
which enabled them to elothe ready tlioiiirhts 
in measured or elevated language, were 
Ih'ld to be ins])ired. False oracles were de- 
livered in vvi'se^ and true* jjroplneies deliv- 
ered in })wtry. * * * Sleight of hand 
passed for magic in the dark ages, sleight 
of tongue for insj miration." We can well 
imairine, how such a heretical or daii<r«*rous 
<.)j»inion in the writings of anotlier would 
have drawn down his anatheuia Jis a^H^uar- 
t'rly Reviewer." 

From the Welshman Southey was re- 
moved to a day school at Bristol, ke})t by a 
clergyman, who was a g<K)d classical sc'holar; 
under his direction our poc^t conmienced 
"Greek and nonsense vtM-ses." This wj*s in 



Robert Southey. 


his thirteenth year, and about this period he 
had TVTitten three heroic epistles in English 
rhyme : one from Diomede to Egiale ; the 
second from Octavia to Marc Antony ; the 
other from Alexander to his father Herod. 
He also made translations from 0\dd, Virgil, 
and Horace. He relates that on his 
thirteenth birthday he composed a very 
lofty pi(!ce of oratory on the awful step from 
infancy to the teens, being under the erro- 
neous imj)ression that he was only entering 
that solemn period instead of having already 
Hved a year in it. 

He now set to work in good earnest to 
become the Homer of his native land, and 
planned an epic, of which Cassibelan was 
the hero. He had commenced the Fourth 
Book when he went to Westminster school ; 
this he worked at with great vigor, but writ- 
ing it in short-hand, and putting it by for 
some time, he at last forgot the cipher, and 
consequently burnt the manuscript in his 

In February, 1788, Southey, who had 
scarcely ever stirred twenty miles from his 
place of birth, was taken by his aunt to 
London to be placed at the Westminster 
school. He entered that foundation on the 
1st April. Unfortunately for us, the poet's 
autobiography ends with tliis school, which 
is much to be regretted, as if he had sketched 
his whole career it would have formed one 
of the pleasantest chats of a man about 
himself we have met with. It offers a sin- 
gular and striking contrast with Leigh Hunt's 
own memoirs just published. Both are ex- 
cellent of their kind, but wide as the poles 
asunder. Leigh Hunt dwells more upon 
himself and his own feelings, while Southey 
fills up his family picture with incidental and 
grai)hic portraits which greatly increase the 

The editor now takes up the pen his father 
laid down, and supplies the deficiency, we 
are bound to allow, very creditably. During 
Robert's stay at Westminster, he formed two 
of his most valuable and cherished friend- 
ships, those with Wynn and Bedford ; indeed 
we may remark tliat the greater part of the 
correspondence before us is divided between 
these two gentlemen. They seem, from 
their letters, to have cherished a true regard 
and respect for each other, which cannot fail 
to impress all with a lofty opinion of their 

At this early period our great Reviewer got 

into his first "scrape*' with his pen. Hav- 
ing concocted, with some of the head schol- 
ars, a magazine, under the appropriate 
schoolboy title of "The Flagellant,'" (which 
died at the mature age of Number Nine,) 
the head master, D. Vincent, considered him- 
self so grievously outraged by an article 
reflecting on the unsparing use of the birch 
at the Westminster shool, that he com- 
menced an action against the publisher fw 
libel. The author's name was given up ; it 
jiroved to be Southey's ; and notwithstanding- 
his apology the miserable pedagogue ex- 
pelled him from the school. 

This " untoward event " happened in the 
spring of 1792, and he passed the rest of 
that memorable year with his aunt, at her 
residence in College Green, Bristol. Hav- 
ing no settled occupation, he gave himself up 
to con-esponding with his old playmates, 
and planning future schemes of Uterary am- 

He was now in his nineteenth year, and 
during this winter his father's affairs came 
to a crisis, which compelled the poet to look 
around for some occupation. The kindness 
of his aunt, however, came to his rescue, and 
his name was put down for Christchurch 
College, Oxford ; but Cyril Jackson, the 
Dean, had heard of " the Flagellant,'' and 
refused to admit him. He therefore turned 
his attention to Baliol College, of which he 
became a member on the 17th of January, 
1793. He thus writes to his friend Bedford 
a few days before he took up his abode at 
Oxford : — 

" My prepossessions are not very favora- 
ble. I expect to meet with pedantry, prej- 
udice, and bigotry, from all of which good 
Lord deliver poor Robert Southey," And 
almost immediately after his arrival he 
writes : " Behold me, my friend, entered un- 
der the banners of Science or Stupidity, 
which you please, and like a recniit got so- 
ber, looking to the days that are passed, and 
feeling something like regret. Would you 
think it possible that the wise founders of 
an English University should forbid us to 
wear boote? What matters it whether I 
study in shoes or in boots ? To me it is a 
matter of indifference, but folly so ridiculous 
puts me out of conceit of the whole. When 
the foundation is bad, the fabric mast be 
weak 1***1 must learn to break a 
rebellious spirit, which neither authority nor 
oppression could ever bow. I must learn 


Robert Southey. 


to work a problem instead of writing nn 
ode, and pay respect to men remarkable for 
laige wigs and small wisdom !^^ 

And yet in after years South^ would 
liave written a volume on the heresy of 
boots if not considered oilhodox by the au- 

There was, however, one custom to which 
Southey would not submit; that was, to 
have his hair powdered! Putting flour 
upon his fine black locks was an indignity he 
could not allow; he resisted and kicked, 
and the barber was overthrown. Doubtless 
the barber felt a moral assimiiice that the 
young rebel would come to be hanged I 
. His course of study seems to have been 
promiscuous. A friend says, "he was a 
perfect helluo lihrorumP That his industry 
was great and untiring we have the evidence 
9i his whole life to conlirm ; and doubtless he 
here had all the freshness of apjx*tite awaiting 
a new life. His correspondence shows the 
imitative spirit very strongly. The style is 
•bo singularly unnatural and inflated, and 
as removed from tlie clear, manly prose of 
his after life as it is possible to conceive. 
Indeed, we think we trace in Southey that 
Bune remarkable faculty which is so appa- 
rent in Dryden, namely, their constant pro- 
gression in the graces of composition. As 
Dryden's best |)oems were writt^'U within 
i few years of his death, so wo believe 
Southey ^s finest prose was equally his later 

At this early period, too, he shadowed out 
what his definition of true hap[>iness wjus. 
*Let me have £200 a year, and the com- 
forts of domestic life, and my ambition as- 
pres no further." 

In a letter wTitten this year (1793) 
Southey shows how, even then, he had be- 
gun to busy himself in "reforms." It is an 
advocacy of " Protestant nunneries " as su-x- 
geeted by Richardson. Many years later, in 
ms ** Colloquies," he alludes to the subject 
again in these word^ : " Considering the con- 
dition of single women in the middle classes, it 
is not speaking too strongly to assert, that the 
establishment of Protc^stant nunneries upon 
a «0ic/e plan and liberal scale, would be the 
greatest benefit that could possibly be cou- 
ftrred upon these kingdoms." 

Our young collegian spent the July of his 
fint vacation in visiting a college friend in 
Herefordshire, and in August he went to his 
old asBOCiate Bcdford^s home in Surrey. 

There, the day after he completed his nine- 
teenth year, he resumed, and finished in six 
weeks, his poem of Joan of Arc. We say 
resumed^ although he had only written about 
three hundred lines when he took up his 
task to complete it. He remained for three 
months at this hospitable house, which is 
still standing at Brixton Causeway, about four 
miles from London Bridge. He however 
diversified his Joan of Arc by firing at wasp's 
nests with horse pistols loaded with sand — 
a queer anticlimax to his heroine's struggle 
with the English invaders. In October he 
returned to liristol, and for some reason 
which does not appear, did not reside during 
the following term at Baliol College, but 
I)assed the time with his aunt. 

We clearly detect at this time that the 
excesses of the French Revolution were dis- 
turbing a little his faith in l)eiiu;cracy. In 
one of his letters he says : *' 1 am sick of 
this world, and discontented with everybody 
in it. The murder of Brisaot ha-^ comi)letely 
harrowed uj) my faculties, and 1 begin to 
believe that virtue can only aspire to con- 
tent in obscurity, for ha[>piness is out c»1' the 
question. I look round the world and evti-y- 
where find the same mournful spectui le — 
the stron<r tvrannizin^ over the weak, man 
and b*ast. The same de])ravity i^eivades 
the whole creation. Opju'ession is tri.imph- 
ant evervwlien\ and the only (lil'r'on nee is 
that it ads in Turkey through the anger of 
a grand Seigneur, in France <^f a Kevulution- 
ary 'JVibunal, and in England, of a Prime 

It is unnecessary to point out the want of 
philosojihy wliich generates the above morbid 

We remember in a conversation we had 
with W%)rdsworth, even so late as in 1845, 
that that line old i)oet gave in his usual 
straiijjht-forward manner ii sufiieit'ut reason 
for the French excesses. It nui.>t be borno 
in mind that he was in Paris durii.;r ihe 
earlier part of tlu; Revolution, and, sliimgely 
enoui;li,l()dLr<'d in tln^sanic house wii ;i Biissot 
and Kobtspirrre. *' How could," said he, 
*' any sane person expect the Fr<'n< Ii to net ra- 
tionally after so many yeai-s of fri»xhtuil mis- 
government ? Human nature \\nik> by ac- 
tions and redactions. Louis iKe I\)urtcenth 
and the Fifteenth had debauehi d and de- 
graded the public mind to such jui extent 
that «all moral restraint had lonir since be- 
come cxtir]jatcd. It would be as reatonablo 


BoUrt Soutkey. 


to expect a savage to practise a Christianity 
he had never been taught. Had the French 
nation been capable of behaving differently 
to what they did, there would have been no 
revolution, because the motive would not 
have existed." This is of course the philo- 
sophical explanation, and had Southey ar- 
gued correctly he would have recognized in 
the revolutionary harvest the frightful seed 
from Avhence it sprang. It is as true of a 
nation as a corn-field, that whatsoever the 
rulei-s sow they shall in time reap. But 
Southey had not a philosophical, nor yet a 
comprehensive mind. We doubt if he was 
even a logician in its highest signification. 
There is as much difference between the 
man of a logical and the man of a syllogis- 
tical mind, as there is between eloquence and 
rhetoric, poetry and verse. Indeed, one is 
founded on art, and the other on nature. 
One is a spirit and the other only a form. 
But after all the author of " Joan of Arc" was 
only a school-boy republican; he had by 
head and not by heart. It was the vague, 
idle dream of poetical imitation, and not a 
noble, glorious principle as in the breast of a 
Milton or a Washington. Listen to one of 
these absurd " day-dreams." It is in a let- 
ter to Horace Walpole Bedford : — 

" If this world did but contain ten thou- 
sand people of both sexes visionary as my- 
self, how dehghtfully would we repeople 
Greece and turn out the Moslem. I would 
turn crusader, and make a pilgrimage to 
Parnassus at the head of my repubhcans, and 
there reinstate the Muses in their original 

Our readers will, we think, agree with us 
that if this 1x3 repubUcanism, every young 
aristocrat fresh from Virgil or Li vy is quite 
as " good a one" as the author of " Wat Ty- 

There is also at this epoch of his life a 
discontent which developed itself in a dis- 
position to attack his fellow-creatures d la 

In a letter to Bedford he thus writes: 
" Your plan of a general satire I am ready 
to partake when you ])lease." Who is there 
that has not in the outset of a classical 
or literary life had similar vague inten- 
tions of reforming or smashing human 
nature ? 

Even l)eforo his acquaintance with Cole- 
ridge, our poet seems to have entertained 
thoughts of an emigration to the United 

States ; for in ano<lier letter dated Dec. 14, 
1793, he writes : — 

" What ia to become of me at ordination ? 
Heaven only knows! After keeping the strait 

Eath so long, the Test Act will be a stambliog' 
lock to honesty. So diance and Providence 
must take care of that, and I will fortify myself 
against chance. The wants of man are so very 
few, that they must be attainable somewhere, and 
whether here or in America matters little. / 
have long learned to look upon the world as my 

" Now, if you are in the mood for a reverie, 
fancy only me in America ; imagine my ground 
uncultivated since the creation, and see me wield- 
in^j the axe, now to cut down the tree, and now the 
snakes that nestled in it Then see me grubbing 
up the roots, and building a nice, snug little 
dairy with them : three rooms in my cottage, and 
my only companion some poor negro whom I have 
bought on purpose to emancipate. After a hard 
day's toil, see me sleep upon rashes, and, in very 
bad weather, take out my casette and write t(> 
you, for you shall positively write to me in Amer- 
ica. Do not imagine I shall leave rhyming or 
philosophizing; so thus your fnend will realize 
the romance of C'>wley, and even outdo the seclu- 
sion of Rousseau ; till at last comes an ill-looking 
Indian with a tomahawk, and scalps me— a most 
melancholy proof that society is very bad, and 
that I shall have done very little to improve it I 
So vanity, vanity will come from my lips, and 
poor Southey will either be cooked for a Cherokee, 
or oysterized by a tiger." 

How little Southey knew his own nature, 
even if he were sincere in the sentiment we 
have itahcized, is evident to all who know 
his after Ufe. A man may recant his opin" 
ions, but not his nature. 

Of his Uterary industry we have a proof 
in a letter to Bedford of 1793: "I have 
accomplished a most arduous task, transcrib- 
ing all my verses that appear worth the 
trouble, except letters, [poetical epistles, 
doubtless.] Of these I took one list, another 
of my pile of stuff and nonsense, and a third 
of what I have burned and lost. Upon an 
average, ten thousand verses are burned and 
lost, the same number preserved, and fifteen 
thousand worthless. * * * I can bear 
a retrospect, but when I look forward to tak- 
ing orders, a thousand dreadful ideas crowd at 
once upon my mind. * * * The more 
I see of this strange world, the more I am 
convinced that society requires desperate 
remedies/ The friends I have (and you 
know me to be cautious in choosing them) 
are many of them strugghng with obstacles 
which never could happen were man what 
nature intended him. A torrent of ideas 


Eobert Southey. 


bursts into my mind when I reflect upon 
this subject In the hours of sanguine ex- 
pectation these reveries are agreeable, but 
more frequently the visions of futurity are 
dark and gloomy, and the only ray that en- 
livens the scene beams on America." 

So closed 1793. At the latter end of the 
following January, he returned to Baliol 
College, whero his expenses were defrayed 
by lus uncle, tlie Reverend Herbert Hill, 
chaplain to the Britisli Factory at Lislx)n, 
who looked forward with considerable anx- 
iety to his nephew taking holy orders. To 
thn life, though Southey made no open ob- 
jection, he seemed to have cherished a private 
dislike quite insuperable, which his son (him- 
self a clergyman) endeavors to apologize 
away, by alluding to the state of the Estab- 
lished Church at that ]>eriod, hinting at 
fox-hunting, Port-wine drinking, and a few 
other foibles not much in the style of "Him 
of Galilee," leading the silent inference to be 
drawn that had his father been a young 
man now he would not have had his old 

Southey's reUgion at tliis precise point of 
his life, was, we have heard Coleridge affiim, 
"an empty vacuum full of mi/tkolof/i/, and 
craving a plenum of a comfortable income, 
a handsome wife, and a large epic famc.^^ 
In a short time aft<*rwards he grew Unita- 
rian; there was an intellectuality al>out it 
which pleased him. We may as well in 
this place relate a little anecdote of Cole- 
ridge, which showed how greatly his imagin- 
ation entered into his "Thirty-nine Articles," 
even to the very la«t. About a fortnight 
before the great po<'t died, the writer of this 
had received a letter from Mr. Wordsworth, 
containing a message t*) Coleridge, who was 
not suspected to be so near his death as 
eventually proved. We merely name this 
to account for the apparent discrepancy of 
the conversation. The " old man elofjuent" 
was in his bed-room, a chaml>er which com- 
manded one of the sweetest and greenest 
views in England — being from the brow^ of 
Highgate Hill, and looking over Finchley 
towards St Albans. As we write all seems 
as fresh as yesterday — the broken-down 
frame of the old poet — his large, gray, 
fiery, yet pain-stricken eye — his flabby, pale, 
yA heavy fece — his noble brow, not bald, 
being covered with silvery hair — his in- 
termittent, yet full, deep voice — the very 
nil of his eye, the compressed li]), the 

slippered feet, the snuffed old black coat, 
gorged with the titillating dust down his 
waistcoat and cuff — all stand so palpably 
now })eforo me, that the Atlantic seems a 
rivulet, and the sixteen years that have 
nearly rolled since "the noticeable man" 
was laid in the immortality of his grave in 
the old church-yard at Highgate, a mere 
watch of the night, liut we must shake off 
the reverie, or we shall bury our readers in 

Coleridge burst out as we were saying 
" (xood bye," with — " Lord Brougham has 
Wn here to-day. We talked about religion. 
Brougham said, * Mr. Coleridge, you were a 
Unitarian {Treacher once : define the difference 
Ixjtween your faith as then and now, I 
shall remember it, and it may bring forth 
seed lon«j after vou dream of.' Brouorham's 
a good man, — a kind man ; his lu^art is 
right — it is his over- worked brain that has 
made him go wrong. Heaven help him — 
he is as simple as a child!'' 

" W(;ll, but my dear friend," said Mrs. 
Gillman, who had only just recovered from a 
severe acci<lent, " your definition f ' Coleridge 
smiled : " Dear friend, cherish that cowry 
shell on the mantel-j>iece, for it has, I feel 
.assured, converted an unlx'lieving Chan- 
cellor, the living Bacon of our Woolsack. 
I took up the shell, my dear friends, and 
said, * Heaven has sent this to give me an 
illustration. You see how (exquisitely this is 
worked, how wonderfully svnimetrieal ; the 
tints of the coloring are miraculously artis- 
tic : on one sid«^ you have the g< »lden flush 
of sunset, mingling with the purj»le dawn ; 
and if you plac<> it to your ear, imagination 
sui»i)li('S a voi(M' which seems to whisper an 
audible s<.)inething, Init it is only a dead 
shell — where is tlh' liviu*; animal, for which 
it was created i It is only a sarco]»hagus. 
So witli Unitarianisni. I admin* its external 
form, the l)eauty of its morality, th(^ color- 
ing of its logic. But where is the living 
spirit of P'aitli ? Where is Christ ? You 
have taken away the Lord, and you know 
not where you have laid him." 

We shall not go into the theology of this 
simile ; we merely give it for its ])oetry. 

When Southey turned I'nitarian, he be- 
came more decided in all his opinions, as we 
shall see. 

We must, however, devote a few lines 
to fillow the son to explain the ])roeesses 
through which his father passed ere he be- 


Robert Southey, 


came a good Quarterly Reviewer of the 
Tory school : — 

** His opinions at this time were somewhat 
unsettled, although they soon took the form 
of Unitarian ism, from which point they seem 
gradually to have ascended without any ab- 
rupt transition, as the troubles of hfe in- 
creased his devotional feeUngs, and the study 
of religious authoi-s informed his better judg- 
ment, until they finally settled down into a 
strong attachment for the doctrines of the 
Church of England." 

Southey seems to have given the Church 
up, that he might devote himself to -^cu- 
lapius, for he announces in a letter to his 
fidus Achates : " Very soon shall I commence 
my anatomical and chemical studies. When 
well grounded in those, I hope to study 
under Cruikshank to perfect myself in anat- 
omy, attond the clincial lectures, and then 
commence — Doctor Southey ! " 

lie accordingly attended for some time 
the Anatomy School, and the Lectures of 
the medical professors, but he soon aban- 
doned the idea as hastily as he had adopted 
it, partly from being unable to overcome his 
disgust for a dissecting room, but chiefly be- 
cause his love for literature was too strong 
within him. 

He now turned his hopes of obtaining a 
living towards a situation under Govern- 
ment, as his friend Bedford had done, but 
it wfus hinted that his well-known violent 
republican sentiments, so freely and loudly 
and unnecessarily expressed, had closed that 
door for ever. This was a pretty situation 
for the future Poet Laureate. We may 
here however mention an anecdote which 
seems to fasten upon Poet Laureates a sort 
of political discontent Some two years 
before Wordsworth was appointed as Sou- 
they's successor, a young English poet, a 
friend of the Bard of Rydal sent to him a 
sonnet written to Queen Victoria. The old 
poet in his reply acknowledged the sonnet, 
but rebuked him for desecrating the majesty 
of Apollo, by bowing to crowned heads. 
Victoria was a Wliig. 

Southey's reply to his friend is bold, for 
he is evidently annoyed: — "My opinions 
are very well known. I would have them so. 
Nature never meant me for a nejjfative char- 
acter. 1 can neither be good nor bad. 
happy nor miserable, by halves. A prudential 
silence would have sullied my integrity !" 

At this precise minute he became inti- 

mate with Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who was 
an undergraduate of Jesus College, Cam- 
bridge, where he had entered in February, 
1791. He had already given the world 
assurance of his genius by his writings and 
his eccentricities, having gained the golden 
medal for his Greek Ode, and by his singu- 
lar lecturings. In 1793, in a fit of coUegiate 
disappointment, he enlisted in the 15th Light 
Dragoons, under the name of Comberback, 
from which " warlike position " he was ex- 
tricated by his friends on the 10th April, 
1794. In the June of this year, on a 
visit to a college friend at Oxford, he was 
introduced to Southey. They each seem, 
like the German students of Canning's bur- 
lesque, to have sworn at that instant eternal 
friendship : they agreed in religion, politics, 
and every thing ! Southey thus writes of 
Coleridge in the first glow of young acquaint- 
anceship : " Allen is with us daily, and hb 
friend from Cambridge, Coleridge, whose 
poems you will oblige me by subscribing 
to, either at Hookham's or Edwards's. He 
is of most uncommon merit, of the strong*- 
est genius, the clearest judgment, the best 
heart. My friend he already is, and must 
hereafter be yours !" 

" Alas, for the rosy dreams of youthful hearts P 

From this meeting sprang Pantisocracy. 
It was agreed between Lovell, Coleridge, and 
Southey, to collect as many adventurous 
spirits as possible, buy land on the banks 
of the Susquehanna, and taking out wives, 
produce children at their leisure, to inherit 
their estates. Stripped of all verbiage, we 
really believe this is as nearly as possible the 
bare idea of this loudly trumpeted Utopia. 

The instigators or chief conspirators of 
this plan to inundate the United States 
with poets, were Robert Lovell, who had 
lately married one of the Misses Fricker, 
George Barrett, a fellow collegian, Robert 
Allen, of Christ Church, Oxford, and Edmund 
Seward : to these were soon added Southey 
and Coleridge. 

It broke up as rapidly as it had formed. 
Seward deserted into the Established Church, 
(an ominous beginning of the campaign,) 
Coleridge made a pedestrian tour in Walesj 
and Southey wont to his aunt at Bath. That 
however the two latter had not altogether 
waked from their dream, is evident from 
our poet's letter dated July, 1794. 

" ' Tis my intention to join Coleridge in 


Robert Southey, 


Wales, then proceed to Edmund Seward, 
aeriouslj to arrange with him the best mode 
of settling in America. Yesterday I took 
my proposals for publishing ^ Joan of Arc,' 
to the printer : should Uie publication be in 
snj^way successful, it will carry me over, 
and get me some few acres, a s])ade and a 
plough. My brother Thomas will gladly go 
with us. In this country I must sacrifice 
either happiness or integrity." 

Like all young authors, Southey had the 
most sanguine expectation of "Joan of Arc's" 
success ; he talked of leaving it as a legacy to 
his country, of its preserving his name, <fec. 

In August Coleridge returned to Bristol, 
and, unfortunately for him, became acquaint- 
ed with his future wife. The tragedy called 
the ** Fall of Robespierre " was written at 
this time. 

Again, too, Pantisocracy reared its head ; 
Sonthey thus writes to his brother who was 
to join them : — 

"The Pantisocratic scheme has given me 
new life, new hope, new energy; all the 
fiKulties of my mind are dilated. I am 
weeding out the few lurking prejudices of 
babit, and looking forward to liappinoss." 

In October the scheme was comiimnicated 
to his aunt, whose anger know no bounds. 
It ended in her turning him from hor house 
late at night, so that he had to walk to Bath, 
nine miles, in rain and darkness. So much 
fcf the affection of a narrow-niindod old wo- 
man. Southey says in a letter to his brother, 
that it was the anuouncomontof his iutendod 
marriage that most thoroughly annoyed her. 
The aunt and nephew never met again. 

Two months after Lovell and Southey 
pabOshed a small volume of poems: this 
dosed 1794. 

The difficulty of raising funds for emigra- 
tion now induced them to alter their scheino 
from America to Wales ; but after a t«nv 
dying reflections, even this was abandoned, 
andpoor Pantisocracy died and was buried. 
He now amused himself with [)lanniui^ 
fl magazine to be edited by him and Cole- 
ridge ; he also oflfered his 8ervic<^s to a qoww- 
tiy newspaper, which howev<*r were de- 
clined. He then, in conjunction with the 
latter, gave a course of lectures jit Bristol, 
which wen? well attended and much praised. 
Mr. Cottle now offered to publish "Joan 
of Arc," to which Southey gladly consented. 
He had already commenced " Madoc," which 
be laid aside to correct his lii-sb-born e^nc. 

His uncle, Mr. Herbert Hill, being about 
to return to Portugal, persuaded Southey to 
accompany him. Much as he disliked the 
idea of being separated from his fair Edith, 
to whom he had be«n for some time en- 
gaged, yet the idea of making the visit 
father to a volume of travels gilded the pill 
of separation. He however resolved to make 
the lady his, beyond the chance of any acci- 
dent save death, and on the 14th November, 
1795, they were married atRedclifFe Church, 
Bristol, separating immediately after the cere- 
mony. A few days afterwards the virgin 
bridegroom was on his way to Lislx)n, which 
he reached after a tedious passage, laying some 
time wind bound at Falmouth. After an ab- , 
seuce of six months he returned, and took pos- 
session of his wife and some ready-furnishod 
lodgings, and busied himself in preparini; his 
" Letters from Spain and Portugal." During 
his absence his brother-in-law and brother 
poet, liobert Lovell, had died, and his widow 
soon after Southey's return went to reside 
with them, and remained a guest during the 
rest of her life. 

"Joan of Arc" had been published during 
the author^s residence in Lisbon, and had 
fallen still-born from the press. South: y 
says in August, 1790, "The sale of ' Joan 
of Arc ' in London has been very slow in- 
deed ; six weeks ago Cadell had only sold 
three copies !" 

Mr. Wynn, his old school-fellow, had, 
immediately on Soutln^-y's marriage, with a 
generosity worthy of his name, sittled an 
annuity of £100 per annum on him. This 
enabled him to work at labor he had the 
most genius for — a great advantage ; it also 
enabled him to j)Ut some finishing towlies to 
his writings, which otherwise the daily ni»- 
ceiisities of his household would have pre- 

In February he came to London for a few 
months in order to (Miter himself of Ti ray's 
Inn. In Aj)ril he returned to Bath, wh -re 
he remained working: hard at a s^'Coiul 
.volume of })oenis, finishing *' Madoe," and 
writing; for the "Morninj*: l*ost," and some 

In 1800 he commenced at l»ri."«^t()l his 
" Thalaba," undnibtedlv the best of liis 
longer jioenis ; his health how(»vev had been 
for som£' tini«* failing, and in April he, ac- 
comj»anied by his wife, set sail once more for 
the Tagus. 

In June, 1801, they returned, restored 


Robert Southey. 


in health, and full of renewed plans, taking 
up their residence at Bristol. 

Towards the close of this year he obtained, 
through Mr. Wynnes untiring friendship, 
the appointment of private secretary to Mr. 
Cony, Chancellor of the Exchequer for Ire- 
land, at a salary of £400 per annum. He 
was however only required a short time in 
Dublin ; on his return he was steadily set- 
tled at London as Mr. Corry's secretary. In 
the meantime he had published " Thalaba," 
the copyright of which he sold for £116. 
In January, 1802, his mother died : this 
was a heavy blow, as Robert Southey was a 
man full of domestic feelings. 

Finding his office to be a sinecure, he, 
with an honesty which ought to be more 
generally followed, resigned his secretary- 
ship, and resolved to settle in the country. 
Al^r casting " his eyes " about him, he fixed 
upon the Lakes of Westmoreland, to which 
his friend Coleridge had already retired. In 
Soj itember, 1 803, immediately after the death 
of his only child, a little girl of scarcely a 
yeai- old, they settled at Greta Hall. He had 
already made the acquaintance of the Long- 
mans, and received several commissions from 
thorn, which afterwards led to a connection, 
closed only by the Laureate's death. Southey 
had now reached his thirtieth year, and had 
settled down in a spot from which he never 
after removed, to devote his energies to a 
purely literary life: perhaps we have no 
other instance of a man so completely fol- 
lowing up that one idea without reference to 
anything else, as the distinguished man 
whose life we are reviewing. 

llis industry was the most untiring of 
any author's of modern times. In March, 
1804, he thus wrote to his friend John 
Rickman : — " I have more in hand than 
Bonaparte, or Marquis Wellesley — digesting 
Gothic Law; gleaning moral history from 

monkish Legends; conquering India, or 
rather Asia, with Albuquerque ; filling up 
the chinks of the day by hunting in Jesuit 
Chronicles, and compiling CoUectanea His- 
panica et Gothica. Meantime Madoc sleeps, 
and my lucre of-gain-compilation (specimens 
of English Poets) goes on at night, when 
I am fairly obliged to lay history aside, be- 
cause it perplexes me in my dreams. 'Tis a 
vile thing to be pestered in sleep with all 
the books in the day I have been reading 
jostled together 1" 

In the May of 1 804 he visited London, and 
met some new society. He however was 
not a very "clubbable fellow," as Johnson 
would phrase it. He was soon at his home 
at Keswick ag^n, in the midst of his books, 

He had now made considerable headway 
in his History of Bi*azil, and looked forward 
to another sojourn in Portugal to finish it. 
Coleridge had been now for some time at 
Malta, as secretary to Sir Alexander Ball, 
and Southey's letters to him are full of. 
hints, which afterwards ripened into works- 
Coleridge had always great theories to pro- 
pound, and was a most suggestive com 
panion and correspondent, as Southey and 
Wordsworth often acknowledged. 

We pause at this point of the Laureate's 
hfe to call the reader's attention, not alone to 
the singular change in his poUtical and re- 
ligious opinions, but also in his haUts of 
daily hfe. From the wild enthusiast he be- 
comes tamed town to the orthodox discipli- 
narian ; from the di*eamer of Pantisocracy he 
suddenly awakes to the realities of Z/.«.d.-ism ; 
from the Lesbian heights of Pindarics' epics, 
and Sapphics, he leaps into the level sea of 
Routine ! 

But we must reserve the moral we have 
to deduce from this singular harlequinade 
to our next number. 


Americfm AggrtssioM en British Free Trade, 



The most singular piece of assurance we 
have seen of late, is an expression of the 
London Times, in general a very quiet an^l 
pKtty-behaved newspa])er, but which bursts 
out occasionally in all the imtivo ugliness of 
the interest it represents. 

" In California," says the Times, " (the) 
production (of gold) does not seem to fliig. 
It 19 true our merchants have been dis- 
i^pointed, but that is because tlie ]^roceeds 
of their sales have been swallowed up in 
payments, which have found tlit.'ir way into 

Srivate pockets, or in consignments of gold 
ast to other parties. The liritish niercliant 
has to run the gauntl«;t of Yaiikeo officials, 
brokers and tradesmen, and has not secured 
his due proportion of the golden stream, 
which has nevertheU^** flowed in uiniues- 
tionable abundance to all parts of the 

It would be a valuable ])iece of honesty 

on the part of this money-writer, to h?t us 

know what that ** duo proportion " of 

American gold is, which ouffht to go to 

** British merchants" by right. Anierieans, 

and we suppose the people of all other 

nations, would like to know what, part of 

their property must go by right and ''''due 

proportion," into the ''^public pixkrt'' of the 

British capitalist. Is it, jis in Ireland, two 

thirds of all we can produce ; or jus in hajjpy 

America, only about one lifth or a sixth ; or 

as in India, nine tenths ; or .as in nieny Eng- 

hmd itself, a moderate third of the earnings 

of labor ? 

"Our merchants," says this profijund 
gentleman, ** have been disai)point«*d ; but 
that is because the proceeds <jf their sales 
have found their way into privat-** ])ookets, 
or in consignments of gold da-^t to otluir 

That is to say, they have received too 
little gold dust from Cahfornia, either be- 
cause they have been fleeced by their own 
agents, or becaase they used it to make pur- 
chases, or j)ay debt;^ away from home. 

Tliat so tender-hearted and honest a man 
ai the "British merchant" should bo tieeced 

of his " due " share of American property^ 
by his own trav»'lling clerks, is a truly la- 
mentable thing, and speaks ill for his clerks, 
and his discretion in employing them ; but 
the ext(fnt of these traiL^fers to " jn-ivate 
pockets" must have Ix^eu astounding in- 
deed, to account for a deficiency of several 
million pounds sterling. There ought to 
bo found some very rich rogueis among 
Brummagem .agents in California, with 
shares of British **dues" of American prop- 
erty on their persons, astounding in amount. 

Not K'ss painful is the other supposition, 
that these ** dues'' have gone to pay debt% 
or make purcluises eRrwhere. That Ameri- 
can gold should be used to ])urcliase Ameri- 
can flour, is mainly ba<l for Kngland. Ameri- 
can ]>ruduce should be paid for in British 
manufactures, and not in Californian gold, 
to please Mjtster British M<'rchant. llenco 
the lamentations of the most decent money 
organ of tlu.^ most decent and respectable 
country in the world. If Kngland buys our 
gold first in California, and inakt-s nothing 
bv the o]»erati«>n, an<l then buys corn of us 
with the same gold, l«-a\ing us a small pro- 
tit, it is no wonder sh<.* falls short of her 
"due share'' of Anit*riean j)roperty. 

But hcarki'U again to our jiolite ''organ 
of Engli>h principles:'' "The British Tuer- 
chant has to run tin* gauntlet of Yankeo 
oflicials, bn»k«'rs and tra<l<'snien, and has not 
secured his <hi«? ])roj!ortion of tlni golden 
stream." Master Uriti^h Merch;int, in >hort, 
thrust his portly j)ei*son among a j»oopli^ who 
saw no g<»od in him, and was trodden and 
ell)oW(»(l out of the way, with considerabh.^ 
anguish to his corns, and some pains in the 
ribs. < )th<-r inl(*rloi)ers received the same 

Yankee oftielals very ]»ro])erly insist^^d on 
his ]»aying the lawful duties on his wares, 
while AniiTiean wares went in free. A horrid 
piec<' of injustice truly I 

Thf jifoods on sliore,and that odious duty 
])aid, he wi."«^hed to exchange them for gold 
dust, but the int«'rv«*ntion of certain evil-dis- 
posed pci-sons called "brokers" was found 


American Aggreadons en Brituh Free Trade* 


necessary to the exchange, and a frightful 
percentage sloughed off from his " due pro- 
portion'^ of American gold. 

The Brummagem agent, dissatisfied with 
this proceeding, another time undertakes 
the sales himself ; he will try it, but finds 
to his great discomfiture that certain abomi- 
nable " Yankee tradesmen" are sellins: 
>cheaper in the tent next him. 

Thus is our "British merchant's" "due 
proportion of Californian gold" reduced to 
a miserable caput mortuum, and a damp 
falls upon the household. " We miLst have 
a change," says he to his friend, the Times ; 
" this American competition and protection 
are killing us. Get up a right feeling on the 
other side of the water, make the Americans 
give over the atrocious tariff system, or we 
shall hy-and-by be reduced to a chop and 
pot of ale." 

The same profound and valuable writer 
gives us a very confused and tedious homily 
on the depreciation of gold, and the rise of 
silver ; events which have taken place simul- 
taneously. The French Ministry, we are 
delighted to hear, have resolved that silver 
alone shall have its value ascertained and 
made legal, instead of gold and silver, and 
will proi)ose a law to that effect. 

Vast standing armies are suddenly raised 
all over Europe ; the troops must be paid in 
silver ; the country people everywhere hide 
their dollai"s, and silver in London and Paris 
has bacome consequently scarce, and is more 
needed as a medium of exchange, and will 
buy more gold and other things than it did. 
These we admit are fearfully profound and 
difficult matters, and require no less a head 
and boldness than the Times to utter them. 

Our very judicious Times writer lets ap- 
pear the truo intention of our ** English mer- 
chant " in the present article, by an attempt to 
show that the gold which is flowing into the 
market in so groat abundance, will very soon 
become of no use whatever, and that silver, 
which is bi^coming scarcer and dearer every 
day, will take its place in Europe altogether. 
This speculation is intended for a stultifi- 
cation of ev(>ry})ody excepting our British 
merchant. Gold, it appears, is to be wholly 
disused in France and Europe, in conse- 
quonc' of a slight depreciation, arising from 
its great^M' abundance ! and England will 
soon have the only legalized gold currency 
on that side of the Atlantic, and will main- 
tain a steady demand for gold. He adds, 

what is well calculated to mislead, that gold 
in England will buy as much food in pro- 
portion as it did before the Californian mines 
were discovered; leaving it to be inferred 
that gold has not depreciated in value ; and 
hiding the fact, that a greater abundance of 
provisions in London since the Irish famines 
began, is the cause why a gold sovereign in 
London will buy as much of Irish eggs and 
meats seized for rents, as it used to. 

The object of all this is shown plainly by 
the paragraphs of the article which we have 
dissected and crushed for their impertinence. 
Our " British merchant " thinks it convenient 
to have a monopoly of gold for all the world 
in London ; that metal, not because of its 
legality, but because of its providential fit- 
ness for the uses of exchange, being the true 
regulator and representative of exchanges, 
and for that and other powerful reasons, the 
best commodity on earth of which to have a 

In following out his grand scheme of 
making himself the monopolist, not only of 
manufacture, ike meatis, but of gold, tke 
m^diumy of commercial operations, our Brit- 
ish merchant and his agent in California 
got themselves elbowed and trod upon; 
and their disappointment and chagiin vents 
itself in a " Tim£s article," and the suggest- 
ing of a " Free Trade League " in America, 
to operate as the foul cat's-paw of that in 
England. Mistress Monopoly sets on all 
England and her friends in America to open, 
every possible channel through which tho 
red gold that now flows up the Mississippi, 
and along the shores of the sea-side States, 
may flow over into the " pubhc pockets " of 
England, the Bank, and its secret reservoirs, 
the private pockets of our British merchant. 
Here is a pretty contriver, and very neat 
and civil Times writing gentleman, with his 
cobwebs in the brain and clear cnnning in 
the stomach. 

England must have a monopoly of gold 
as the most convenient metallic medium of 
exchange, that commands a market when 
nothing else will, — that is, in fact, omnipotent 
in every market and at all times, and that 
ought to be monopolized by a nation that 
intends to be mistress of the world, and to 
rob all nations of the earnings of labor by 
well-contrived reciprocity treaties. 

California, it seems, has not yielded the 
British merchant his " due proportion " of the 
needful gold. 


AggresdofM en British Free Trade, 


After ezpneaBiDg the opinion that the use 
of gold is to be in future extremely limited 
m Europe, our judicious money-writer con- 
tinues. ^ There is a great demand for silver 
in the United States," says ho, ^*aud it 
lemains to be seen whether the United 
States will succeed in relieving: its strait- 
ened silver currency, with the substitution of 
gold." And further, the convenience of the 
** gold eagle " will be a poor equivalent for 
its ** depreciated value." Profound statisti- 
cian, who never heard of such a thing as a new 
ooinage, and who supposes, that l)ecau$c an 
old gold eagle is not worth the price marked 
on it, Americans are to have no money but 
what they buy of the Mexicans, and are to 
make no use of the golden prize of Califor- 
nia. England, be seems to think, is the 
only country tbat will or ought tcj benefit by 
that prize. We are to put up with :>ilver, a 
metal, suggests our valuable niis^tifier, vory 
much in demand for " large indiL-^trial oi)cra- 
tioDs." In the operations of that chevalier 
dlndustrie, our British monopolist, not only 
silver but gold seems to be tolerably in de- 
mand ; and here we have a cool piece of 
impudence, showing us that we are Ui have 
none of our own gold, but only he and his 
master ought to have, and will have, that. 

And yet we have our fears he may be 
right. It is a bare posi^ibility, so dull are wo \ 
of late, that a company of (German and Eni(- 1 
liah importers, partisans and agents of Eng- ' 
liih and £uro})ean houses, may, with a Frct^ ! 
Trade League, and other dot^'stablo invi-n- 
tions, supported by foreign contributions, 
itesl away their gold from the pooj^le of the 
United States, and leave them afiuat on a 
rotten paper currency. And the king of th«*ir 

Er Chaos will be Mr. li. J. Walker, tho 
T of the grand project for giving Kug- 
laiid a monopoly of manufactures, and what 
most go with it, a monopoly uf g^ld. 

That the precious metals will ever c«*as(j 
to be a currency for trade and exchanges in ' 
civilized communities, there is no reason to j 
beUeve, though it is highly probahhs tVoni ' 
the general tendency of the ag«> toward 
mutuality and concentration of lalM)r, that 
htak crMit will rest less upon specie than it \ 

The banking system of New- York throws 
the credit of the banks uj)on the hthor of 
the entire community, tiixos Ix'ing the sole 
security of the State debts, by which th<» 
State banks are secured. In an organ! /.<.'d 

community not agitated by incendiary fac- 
tions, the firmest basis of credit is the united 
industry of all, and the united honesty of all. 
Labor is consequently tlie creator of the in- 
terest of money. 

Si>ecie having a value almost wholly 
fictitious, ])eing neither food, clothes, wea- 
[)on, vehicle, house, nor land, but represent- 
ing the need of all, yields nothing, and 
creates notliing, but is c<intinually consumed 
and worn away. Grain, live stock, clothes, 
houses, (kc, yi^ld all of thorn a direct benefit 
to the human body, but specie^ as such, ren- 
der none. Living things, and tools, the 
earth and what lives upon it^ surface, aided 
by lalx>r, increase and multiply, but upecie 
as such does not, but only wastes away. 
Tools, though they waste away by use, with 
the aid of labor rej)roduce themsolves : the 
water-wheel is made to manufacture an 
hundred other water-wheels. Specie, on 
the contrary, produces nothing of its own 

Gold and silver, in the form of coin, are 
of no use in the arts or in medicine ; specie, 
therefore, as such, is not a material used in 
the arts, and is of no use whatever in anv in- 
dustrial process. It must fii*st cease to be 
" specie " to Ix^ of use. Nor is coin, like a 
promissory note, a more ivitnemt of a private 
obligation, nor, like, a bank or State note, of 
a public one. It tells no story, it fixes no 
tinio, it is only what it ajjjj^ars to be. The 
valiK^ is attaclnd to its i<Khst(fua' ; it has, if 
we may so sjK-nk, a j>«'rsonal!ty o\' value as.- 
c'('rtain«.*cl and stampo<l upon it, without ref- 
erenc<*. to time. 

By th(.i use of a figure of rlu't<.iric, we may 
make what wo jtloa^e <.)f it : w«' nny call it, — 

A god, a (hnii, a brood<*r of its kind, a 
sood of Wealth, a tool of trado, or an engine, 
but that is ])o<'try and not fact. 

Till' name does n(.>t lu'lp us. " Sprcic " 
m(.':insyo/*//2, sha[>e, appearance, iVc. A coin 
is a stamp or impress ; .specie^ ]M-rh:ips, moans 
the same. 

To kn(Av what spO(;i(^ /.s", l«'t us see what it 
is used for. 

Fii-st then, to one man or to two, or to a 
family, speei*' is of n*) usi^ A man in a 
desert cannot us«» sj>ecio, nor can a family 
use it, a f<niiihj having a anininoiittj of 
(fo<xls. Where there is ab.'^olfiii' community 
of goods there is no spi'c.i<\ AVln-re there is 
ahiuluU' credit, (i. o. in the family,) there ai'O 
no public or private prumis^-ory notes. 


American Aggresnons en British Free Tirade. 


Specie and notes consequently indicate 
the existence of a society, i. e. a company of 
men united by interest, instead of affection, 
aiding each other by mutuality, value for 
value, under the idea of personal property. 
When the society breaks up, or is in dan- 
ger of breaking up, notes lose their value, 
(i. e. stocks fall,) the connection of the past, 
present and future is broken up. A note has 
a certain circle of existence, and its value 
diminishes as it is taken farther and farther 
from the centre whence it came, and in- 
creases as it returns. At a certain distance 
it becomes worthless. The extent of this 
circle is measured by the power of the centre. 

^otes do not represent coin, but labor, — 
i. e. the probability that there will be fruit 
of labor, i. e. interest. Were there no credit, 
no dependence upon the }aeld of labor, there 
would be no notes. 

^otes consequently represent the protec- 
tion given by the social organization (i. e. 
the organization of honor and justice) to 
the pea<;eful pursuits of industry; and the 
probabilities of its yield are greater as the 
orgjinization is more complete and stable. 

Specie, on the contrary, diminishes in 
importance, and is less in demand, as the 
organization of society within itself, and its 
self-dependence, is more complete. The value 
of gold and silver increases as pubhc and 
private credit f;iils, and the fruits -of labor 
become less certain. 

Other things being equal, gold and silver 
currency is more necessaiy in time of war 
than at other times. From which it appears 
that money (either coin, or cowries, or what- 
ever j^eiforins the part of specie) represents 
nothing l)ut the dependence of atie man upon 
another (without family tie, kindness, or 
credit) for the means of life. Every man 
has either labor or substance, which he can- 
not instantly use to maintain himself, and he 
consequently oflei-s it to bis neighbor ; and the 

representative of this relationship, as common 
to all mankind, and recognized by all, is cur- 
rency, money, (specie, cowries, cash, coin.) 

Specie represents and measures the pres- 
ent and immediate dependence of one man 
upon another, and as that dependence is less, 
there is less use of specie. 

J^otes represent the confidence of one man . 
in another, and in the community, in regard 
to the returns of labor.* 

To operate successfully upon all the na- 
tions of the globe, a company of tradeis 
must consequently have a boundless con- 
trol of the specie market, which is evid^it 
without argument ; but to get that control 
they must force all specie-producing coun- 
tries into a position of dependence upon 

The chagrin of British capitalists at not 
recei\nng their ** due proportion " of the 
grand weapon and " tool of trade," as it has 
been aptly styled, is therefore easy to under- 
stand. It is clearly the interest of Ameri- 
cans to keep it to themselves, and to do that 
they must not only drive off foreign intra* 
ders from their mines, but take care to pro- 
duce such commodities as will give them a 
good share of the world's market, and cause 
the specie of the world to flow back to 
them in such abundance as to enable them to 
wrestle with the money giant of England, 
and throw him down breathless. It is late 
in the day for . America to be forced to 
work for England, to get a little gold and 
silver. Let the people of America cultivate 
and protect every useful and elegant art, 
and the gold of California and the silver of 
Mexico will be at their command, and move 
to and fro for them, between all the markets 
of the globe. 

* Metaphygically, specie represeuts the mutual 
dependence of men as they stand together upoo 
the face of the whole earth, in space ; while notea 
represent tifnct as regards the same dependence. 




Garibaldi — Faez, 



r Althoagli it 11 not the practice of the American Review to appear eitlier in French or High Dutch, 
ml we venture to break through our general practice on this occasion to place )>efure our renders one 
of the most inst and cloauent articles it has ever been our happiness to publish. With reforunce to 
fte mdiyidcials of whom tlie following pages treat, the city of New- York should know something of 
cm; AS it listed him, and the name and history of the otlicr, who refused the tawdry honors squandered 
OB bit nnworthj contemporary, arc dear to every Republican, llie name of Garibaldi in history will 
combine the attributes accorcled to Rienzi and Murat — the patriotism of the Roman Tribune with the 
dHva|iy of the illustrious soldier. We have but one apology to make for not presenting a translation 
wiA the article — ^jou may translate the verbiage, but not the sincerity or tlie genius of tlie orator ; and 
Acneh eloquence of this style is so idiomatic, that it is absolutely impossible to combine the manly 
yngpr and tne womanly sincerity which distinguish it with any homogeneity, or with other effect than 
m A ooDtiast^ setting its more prominent and diaracteristic features equally at fault.] 

Uv spectacle sans contredit tres curicux 
k k fcM8 et tros interessant, c'est do suivrc 
dSm ceil attentif les diverses carrieres que 
pBCourent, chez toutcs les nations, les Iioin- 
nes lanc^ dans la politique. 

Lbb uds, amans passionnes dc la libortc, 
hd Touerent) pendant toute leur vie, un culte 
jar et d^nnteresse, et ik eurent la satisfac- 
tkn de voir leur efforts pour elle couronn63 
fmi BDCoes complet. Tel fut Washington. 

Les Autres, d^abord r^publicaius sincoros, 
Mcrifi&rent plus tard la libertc k leur ambi- 
tioD. Filfl de la liberie, ils assas.«(in6ront leur 
mire, et ils se 8er\iront de son cadavro, 
comme d'un marche-piod pour gravir les 
Barches du trone. Tel fut Bonaparte, qui 
le fit Napoleon. 

Qiielques uns, rdpublicains aussi dans 1o 
ttxnmenoement, mais n'ayant ni a-^soz do 
JRoete dans le coeur pour se dcvoucr a la 
inite cause de la liberie, ni assez do genie 
poor organizer une reaction a leur ])rofit, 
vendirent leur bras et leur cpee a dos Cliarlcs 
Denz, et rdtablirent la royautc. Tel fut 

Qnelques autres, toujours ardens rc|)ubli- 

|I Cliiis, ont 6t6 constammcnt fideles a la li- 

r bate,et inebranlables daas leur foi polititpio ; 

Ds ont pref(^r6 niourir de faim, ]>Iut6t quo 

de preter leur appui et leur plume au dos- 

potisme. Tel fut Clicnier. 

Cet article a pour objet de mottre en pa- 
ndlele deux hommes, qui, chacun do lour 
cute, ont 6tc a la tete de rarmco et dos at- 
fiures dans leur patrie respective. Je voux 
parler de Garibaldi et de Paez. 

Tous deux, pour dcs motife difforcns, furent 
baonis de la contr^o qui les vit naitre. 

Tous deux sent vcnua chorcher un abri 
sous la bannierc puissanto dos Etats Unis. 

Le hazard, qui a reuni sur lo tcrritoiro 
americaine cos deux grandos infortunos, cta- 
blit outre Garibaldi et Paez un j)oint do ros- 
Rom bianco, qui, soa-^ plus d'un rapport, est 
digno d'un tros grand intorot. 

Tous doux furont annoncos ])ar lavoix doa 
jouniaux longtoms avant l«nir arrivoo a Now- 
York. Lo coinito italiou ot la population de 
Now- York priront dos mosuros ot firont dos 
pr6j)aratirs pour rocevoir avoc |>omi)o cos 
(loux porsonnagos. 

La maiiion* difforonto, avoc la<|uollo les 
doux exiles accuoillirunt oos prouvos do pro- 
testations pul)liqu<'s, a vrainiont quolquo 
choso do tros caractc'risti<|uo, ot pout, jusqu'a 
un certain dogre, sorvir do j)oint do depart, 
pour j)ort(?r un jugoniont assoz not sur Gari- 
baldi ot sur Paoz. 

Autre Kosduszko, (jlaribakli est un nou- 
voau niissionnairo, un nouvoau martvr do la 
i libcrto. 11 a oto j)n>s(!nt uno promion* fois 
on Itali<», ou il a oonibattu jxmr la liborto. 
II a eto prosorit on Franco, ou il a combattu 
])our la memo causo. 11 a oto ])roscrit a 
Kio Grande, puur avoir cunoouru a la fonda- 
tiou d'uuo rc[)u}>li(iuo. 11 a ote jjroscrit a 
Monto VidoOjOU il a oonibattu j)<)ur la nu'mo 
cause. !)♦', Mouto Video, il s'ost transporto 
a Ronio, daiLs sa cliere ]>atn<\ qui, aux ac- 
cents do la liberte, s'otait delivrro dc la c«>ur 
])a])al<', et avait proelanie le gouvorneint'ut 
rcfmblicain sur los bords du Tibro. II a oto 
proscrit pour la socondo fnjs on Italic, ot il a 
domandoaux Etjits Unis riiospitjilite, quo lui 
refusal t sa patrie. 

Qu'il soit le bien vonu ! 


Garibaldi — Paez, 


Garibaldi regrette de n'avoir pas atteint, 
malgre ses oft'urts, le but g6nereux, qu'il se 
proposait ; de n'avoir pu implanter, sur le sol 
de la jeune Italic, le systerae republicain. 

La portion patriote de la nation frangaise 
fesait des voeux sinceres, pour qu'il s'etablit 
un lien solide et syinpathique de fraternite 
entre la France republicaine et la jeune Ita- 
lie ; elle Cvsperait, que cette vieille papaute 
retrograde, qui a fait alliance avec tous les 
rois contre tous les peuples, qui a uni sa 
croix au baton de TAutriche et au knout de la 
Russie, serait abolie a jamais, et que, sur ses 
mines encore fiimantes, s'eleverait un edifice 
politique et social nouveau, qui reveterait des 
formes plus jeunes, plus contbrmes au style et 
aux besoins de Fepoque. C'etait la le voeu 
que fesaient, par patriotisme, les nouveaux 
citoyens de la Rome regeneree pour leur 
patrie ; que fesaient, par sympatliie, les pa- 
triotes de la France republicaine, et que de- 
vait seconder, sinon par solidarite, du moins 
par devoir, le gouvernement frangais. 

Mais Louis Bonaparte, plein de gratitude 
pour le clergc catholique, qui Tavait porte a 
la presidence, jaloux d'acquitter au plutot la 
dette qu'il avait contractee envere lui, et de 
conserver son appui pour Taveuir, u'en jugea 
pas ainsi. 11 sacrifia Pinterot de la repu- 
blique fran(;aise a sa personnalit6 et a ses 
vuex ambitieuses. II regarda, comme un 
titre de gloire, de prodiguer le sang des sol- 
dats fran(;ais et de gaspiller les finances du 
tresor national, pour combattre une arm6e 
republicaine en Italic et pour y otouflfer, des 
sa naissance, le principe republicain, qu'il 
avait pour mission, comme premier raagis- 
trat, comme president de la republique fran- 
(;aise, de favoriser et de soutenir en France. 
Graces lui soient rendues ! 

Quelle belle page en effet Louis Bonaparte 
s'est ac(]uise dans Thistoire de France, pour 
avoir rctabli le gouvernment papal dans 
Rome, dans la ville eternelle, — ou un pape, 
dont jc ne cite pas le nom, pour ne pas sou- 
iller ma i)lume, fit deterrer son prcdeces- 
seur, dont il etiiit I'ennemi personnel, fit in- 
tenter un piocjs a son cadavre, lui fit cou- 
per la tcte et la main, puis fit prccipiter ses 
mcmbres epars dans les eaux du Tibre ; — 
ou, dans le dixi(>me siecle, le papo Gre- 
goire VII. mil a execution le plan le plus 
politiqur^ qui ait jamais ete con^u par aucun 
pape, celui, qui devait fournir au Saint Siege 
autant de sujets, qu'il y avait de pretres 
dans le monde chretien, en isolant tous ces 

pretres de leur. patrie respective, et en les 
livrant, sans partage, au chef de I'eglise ; en 
un mot, ou Gregoire VIL ordonna d^une 
maniere positive, par une buUe, le celibat des 
pretres ; — ou le pape Innocent III. etablitPin- 
quisition dans le onzieme siecle ; — ou, dans 
le treizieme siecle, le pape Jean XXII., glo- 
rieux d'ajouter le droit de ciime aux droits 
d'annates, de dispenses, de dimes et d'indul- 
gences, a permis, par une bulle, a un diacre 
d'assassiner, moyennant douze tournois,'aun 
abbe, a un eveque de poignarder, moyennant 
une somnae de trois cents livres. 

Qui sait, si, plus tard, apres avoir dctmit 
le gouvernement republicain en Italie, Louis 
Bonaparte n'aura pas la coupable pens^ 
d'aneantir avec le secours d'un second Monk 
le gouvernement republicain en France ? 

Un ecrivain fran9ais d'un merite superi- 
eur, a publie recemment un ouvrage daps 
lequel je lis la phrase suivante : " La France 
a bcvsoin d'un Washington ou d'un Monk." 

Que Louis Bonaparte choisisse, s'il I'ose 1 

Si Louis Bonaparte devient un second 
Washington, (et il en est peut-etre encore 
tems malgre les fautes qu'il a commises.) il 
meritera bien de la France et de la posterity. 

Si, au contraire, Louis Bonaparte, traitre 
a la liberte, traitre a la patrie, se sert d'un 
Monk pour retablir la monarchie a son pro- 
fit, qu'il tremble ! Ce forfait parricide sera 
son arret de raort. Car il se rencontrerait, 
dans les rangs du parti repubhcain profon- 
dement froiss^, et justement indigne, plus 
d'un bras pour venger la hberte assassin6e 
et pour punir, de la peine du talion, Tauda- 
cieux liberticide. 

Mais je m'arr^te. II ne m'appartient pas 
d'anticiper sur les evenemens. L'histoire, 
ce juge souverain, est la qui epie dcja Louis 
Bona[)arte. C'est elle, qui se reserve le droit 
de lui decerner la couronne civique, si sa 
conduite politique est celle d'un second 

Mais c'est elle aussi, qui saura flagelleri 
avec le fouet de I'opprobre et de la maledic- 
tion, la meraoire du jeune ambitieux, qui, 
sans genie, sans gloire, sans autre m6rite, 
sans autre precedent que d'etre le neveu de 
son oncle, aura eu la tcmcrite parricide de 
porter une main sacrilege sur I'autel de la 
Iibert6, ^t de violer la constitution qu'il avait 

Je termine ici ma digression relative k 
Louis Bonaparte, et je renens avec bonbeur 
au Kosciuszko italieu. 




Garibaldit fiitigu6 des efTorts surhumains 
oull a taits pour affrancliir sa patric, sc r6- 
ngie dans sa tiistesso ct dans ses douloureux 
sonvenirv ; il ne voit que Rome bombarddo 
et assei^ne. 

En vain scs compatriotes lui manifos^tont 
le desir de lui ^re unc ovation ])ub]iquc, (t 
lui d^larent quMls sont Ics intcrprotos do 
toute la population dc New- York. 

Son coeur est trop niivr6, pour ctre ac- 
cessible aux accons dc la joio, mix fanfares, 
ans ovations de la population Nevv-Yorkaiso. 
En rcponse aux nombreusos sollieitations 

2ui lui sont faites, voici la lettrc, quo (iari- 
aMi adressa au comito italien lo sept aout, 
mil huit cent cinquanto : — 

Je re^rette d'etre obligC' dcvoufl nnnonccr 
^oe ma maavai*c saote continue ct ne inc ])crmcttni 
|iu de prendre part d la dcnionstrHtion que vous 
{njetez pour le dix aoOt prochaiii. 

1m lenteur dc ma convalescence ct rincortitiule 
dotems oH je pourrai etreretabli, m\>m]>ech(:rr)nt 
■am de fixer le jour oik je serai capabk- de mv. 
rtunir a toiu, conformemeDt d Totre nattcuse invi- 

J'espere que vous mc pcrmettroz dc youa nV 

rter, plus vivenient B*il CHt possihio que jainnis, 
Tceu que j*ai fouvent cxprime lie voir abundon- 
Bcr la d^iDonstration pnjet^'^e. II ne^tt pas ]>o<uiu 
tfune telle manifestation publiqiie,i)oiir me immvor 
la tvinpathic dc mes amcitoyenrt, du pcujilc niuv- 
ricain, et de tous les vruis republicuins, {xtur les 
Balbeara que j'ai 6prouv6flct pour Licnu^'e (jiii (mi 
afc^ la «ourcc. 

Bien qu'une manifestation publicpic rle oe f>enti- 
nent peut-etrc un motif de vive Hiitisfactioii |h)ur 
DDi,exil<& de materre natide, RejKire de nies vTifaii;*, 
plearaiit le renversement dc In liberie dans nm 
patrie par ime influence etrun^t:re. 

Orpendant cr(>yez, que j'ainierai mieux pouvoir 
fviter cette mani testation et devenir traiiquilicnient 
ct biunblemrnt citoyen de cxitte grunde republiquc 
ifbommes libres, pour naviguer h>u8 hom pavilion, 
poor poursuivre une carriere, qui nie pernictto du 
^^Kiier ma vie. et attendrc une occasion plus fa- 
vorable, pour delivrer mon pays de m^s oppr(^<seurs 
teaiigersoudome<ttiqucH. A, a laquelie 
je me auis devout, il nVst rien quo jc priso autant 
^ne rapprubiitiitn de ce grand ]>cupK'. et je puIh 
eonvaiii^u qiie je Tobtiendrni, lors tju'il sera per- 
■uuJ£ que J ai lionnetenient et HdMemcnf scrvi la 
CMiae ae la lilierU*, dans laquelie il a donne lui 
iD^me un si noble dxemple au mondc. 


Cette lottro, comme on lo voit, est em- 
preinte d'un caracterc admirable, d'innoeenco 
et de inodcstie. Ellc suffit pour juger Cia- 
libaldi a sa veritable valour, ct ello pour ait 
donner une sanglantc lc9on a Paez, s'il avait 
ni en profiter. 

Mais Paez ne tint pas le moindre compte- 
de cetto lecoii. Lo pjem'ral l*ai'z, plus 
ambitieux, muins rei-ublieaiii que le gi'iic'ral 
(laribaldi, jette le voile sur t-a cuiiduitc 
pa55see, sur le sie^e de Maraeaibo, sur les 
expeditions de Calabozo et de Crro ; il 
oublie Ics arrets de la legislature veiic'zue- 
lienne, la j>rL<<>n de Cuniaiia, los motifs pour 
lesquels il a quitte sa [>atrie. 

]*ar depit pour sa p'andeur jia-^^^t'e, par 
haine pour le prt'si(l<*nt Mouagas, a la 
cleiiience diiquel il doit la vie, par liaino 
pour If gouvenieinent venezuelien qu'il a 
oonibattu, j'ar liaiiie jicut-etre pour sa pa- 
trie, (jU^il a laissee en proi«.* a la guerro 
civile, il brave tout, il croit se vcngcr de sa 
conscience politifjue, de Thistoire (|ui dejtv 
le liarcele, et lui doiine le titre odit-ux de 
Coriolan aniericain. 11 est dc'borde par 
la soif des ovations, jar les instigations des 
faux amis, dont il est entoiire, et ]!ar Fim- 
jiression que j.mduit sur lui c« tie foule com- 
j»acte qui se j.nsse dans le Castle (larden, 
j)Our voir un scul lionime, le g( lu'ral Paez, 
Tancien ai<!e-de-eamp de Tillustre l^oiivar, 
raneien ])r(sident de la republifjue vt'ni'zu- 
elieime, Tancien gi'neralissime de raimto 
du Vt'ni'zutla. II s<^ laisse eomi)ljn>anjment 
conduire en c<»rt('ge a Tllott'l de \'i]l«* do 
N<'W-Vork, ou Tattriid une garde (riioinieur, 
et oi'i 1«' main' 1<^ reeoit otViei«*lli'miiit au 
iiom de la eite in)j)erial«'. II aee('|)l(», lo 
sourire sur les Irvn-s, les iKMiiieuis qui lui 
sont (K'fi'n's, ics felicitations oflieicllcs, qui 
lui son I ad reisers. 

Ku eganl aux eirconslanees jiolitiques, 
dans lesqiiollrs h guieral Tat-z s«* tronvo 
])laee, devait-il acet'd«r ou s«« soustiaire a 
1 eclat (Fune manifi station pul)li(ju<' ? Je 
laisse a r<ij)inion {ubjiijue le soin <!«' juger 
ce fait. (.'(' <jn«* j** ]juis din* a\< c la fiaiieliiso 
(Pun liomme <jui n'a jamai*^ ciaint de diro 
la verite, c'est qu;^ le gi'iieral I'ac'z s'rst nie- 
pris ('trangement sur raeeucil, <ju'il a re(;u 
loi's d(^ Son anivM- a Ntw-Vork. 

Cette rc'ee])tinn a ('te ])rimitiv( mrnt pro- 
voqu('<*, non ])a^ jm'cisi nu nt jar la ] ojiula- 
tion Nrw-Yorkais<', qui ne enmioissait ])as la 
vie jwditicjue du general Paiz, mais ];ar les 
agens dc la juditiquc? anglaise, qui Tentou- 
raient alors, (jui Tentoun-nt encon», fjui lui 
doniK'iit de \h riidi ** consi ils, (;t (jui, s'il nV 
prend ])as garde, exciten»nt en lui. lorsqu'il 
sera tems, d<*s smtlmens <le jalousie ct d'arn- 
bition, (bins le but do 1<' jxuisscr (Mieore vers 
les rivagos du Venezuela, et dc lui fairo ar- 




borer une seconde fois P6tendard de la r&- 
volte coutre sa patrie. 

Voila la verite toute entiere ; c'est presque 
deja de I'histoire. 

Que des jouraalistes contemporains aient 
donne, dans leur articles complaisans, le 
nom d'erreur a la marche politique, qui a 
^t6 suivie, depuis ces dernieres anuses, par 
le general Paez, dans le Venezuela, qu'ils 
aient essayes de Fexcuser, en disant : " Le 
general Paez a pris les pretentions des oli- 
garquos pour la voix de la nation entiere elle 
nieme; il s'est mepris sur la popularito 
et sur le patriotisme de ce parti, qui vise 
plutot a ressaisir le pouvoir qu'^ consolider 
le bonheur du pays ; malgr^ son erreur, le 
general Paez peut porter le front haut, et 
Monagas a su presque joindre, en la personne 
de Paez, I'aurdole du martyr a la couronne 
du guerrier." Sans doute ces joumalistes 
ont fait acte d'un extreme bienveillance, 
mais le general Paez ne doit pas se croiro 
justifie, par ce fait, devant le tribunal au- 
guste de la post^rite. Uhistoire impartiale 
ne se paye pas de pareille monnaie; elle 
se sert d'autres termes ; elle ne se enveloppe 
pas dans les replis de tant de menagemens. 

Sous un gouvemement r6publicain, les 
hommes d'etat n'ont qu'une route a suivre 
pour defendre la republique ; c'est la route 
du patriotisme et de la liberto. Quiconque 
s'en ecaite, quiconque, par jalousie ou par 
ambition, prend les armes pour renverser le 
president de la republique librement 61u par 
le peuple, i)our detruire la forme de gou- 
vemement etabli, pour jeter le pays dans les 
dangers, dans les hazards, dans les fureurs 
d'une gueiTe civile, est nomme par Phistoire 
Coriolan, Catalina, Monk, traitre, conspira- 
teur ; voila les noms que lui donne Phistoire. 

Garibaldi, permettez a un vrai r^publicain 
de vous ofFrir le temoignage pur et sincere 
de mon admiration enthousiaste pour vos 
vertus civiques, et de jeter avec vous quel- 
qucs cendres sur la tombe de la liberty ita- 

Mais ne vous decouragez pas ; no d6ses- 
pcrez pas de Paffranchissement de votre 
<jhcre patrie. Tot ou tard la liberte italienne 
rcnaitra de se^s cendres. T6t ou tard, bien- 
tot peut-otre, I'heure de sa resurrection son- 

Ce sera aloi-s le moment d'agir. Soldat 
intrcpide d'avant-garde, soyez toujours sur 
le qui vive, pr^t a voler au secours de la 
liberte, aassitut qu'elle reclamera votre assis- 

tance. Cast \k votre mission providentielle ; 
dussiez vous ^tre encore une fois martyr ! 

Garibaldi, combien j'envie votre sort mal- 
gr6 vos malheurs, malgr^ vos desappointe- 

L'histoire reconnaissante vous tiendra bon 
compte de vos 6normes sacrifices, de votre 
admirable desint^ressement. C'est une ten- 
dre mere qui vous traitera comme son enfant 
de predilection. Vos bonnes oeuvres auront 
leur recompense dans la m^moire des bom- 
mes. Jouissez avec bonheur de votre r^ 
nomm6e sans tache. 

Adieu, Garibaldi, adieu ! je vous benis. 

Quant a vous, Paez, permettez moi aussi 
de vous adresser des reproches et des con- 

Vous avez fait dernierement hommage de 
votre 6p6e a la ville de New-York. Mais 
avez-vous bien refl6clii a toute la portee de 
cette d-marche ? Non ; je ne suis pas dispos6 
k le croire ; car, sans cela, vous ne Fauriez 
jamais tentee. Malheureux, qu'avez vous 
fait? Quel mauvais g^nie vous a pouss^ 
dans cet 6cueil ? 

Donner votre 6p6e en present a la ville 
de New- York, c'^tait lui dire a haute voix : 
"New- York, fille de Washington, prends 
cette ep6e, que porta le g^n^ral Paez. Cette 
6p6e est aussi pure que celle des Washing- 
ton, des Kosciuszko, des Bolivar, des Gari- 
baldi. C^est elle, qui, aux accents sacrds de 
la Hberte, chassa les espagnols du territoire 
v6n6zu61ien. C'est cette 6p6e, qui a com- 
battu contre mes concitoyens dans la guerre 
civile, que j'ai allumee dans ma patrie, sous 
le pretexte apparent de secourir la liberty en 
p6ril, mais, en rdalite, bien plutot pour sa- 
tisfaire mon ambition personnelle. Deposez 
la dans les archives de votre ville a cote de 
Pdpee de Washington ; qu'elle soit, pour les 
citoyens des Etats Unis, comme un drapeau 
consacro a la libertd ; semblable au panache 
de Henri Quatre, qu'elle soit toujours pro- 
sente devant vous, et qu'elle vous guide tou- 
jours dans le sentier de Phonneur et de la 

Voila ce que vous avez dit, en propres 
termes, a la ville de New- York. Jugez dV 
pres cela. Voyez quelles sent les conse- 
quences de votre d-marche. 

Croyez moi, Paez; ecoutez les conseils 
d'un homme, qui vous veut du bien, et qui 
vous regarde comme une victime de la poli- 
tique anglaise : Kenoncez k la vie poUtique, 
du moins pour le moment. Autre Cincinna* 


«jfor« of nr 



tDByreprenesIa channe, nan pas pour labourer 
1b sol T^foa^lien, puisque vous vons 6to8 for- 
nix ^ jamais les portes do la mere patrio, 
mais pour soumettre ^ la culture le sol vierge 
de Texas. Soyez planteur amcricain. 
Flos tard— qui la sail, qui pout lire de si 
dans le livre du destin ? — plus tard, si | 
un Monk osait scanner d^un poignard 
panidde, et formfut le projet odieux dc le 
ploDger dans la sein de la patrie qui vous vit 

naltre,ce serait alors pour vous une glorieuse 
occasion de \i\Tc d'une vie nouvcllc. Lc cri 
do la liberte en danger duiLS votrc patrie vous 
ferait un devoir de voler a son secours. Vous 
rodemandoriez a la ville do Now- York I'opce 
que vous lui avoz confi6e, vous la rohnbilito- 
riez alors, vous la rogt'nerorioz en lui don- 
nant une trempe nouvelle dans le feu sacro 
do la liberte. 







enauom about she atrocious rascality and cowardice of all irishmen ; and of the conse- 


tf Jkadb U to yooi yon gncdegs rarlet, I owe all tliis 7 I'll teach you to abuse yonr mother— I will !^' 

She Stoops to CoNauER. 


"On the 4th of December, having heard of tho 
flqinees committed od an American steamboat 
bv Bntish officialB at Grcytown, or Siui Juan de 
Mvagua, we spoke of those outrages in tho 
tefins uiey deserved. * * * « But the next 
A^ we received information which left no doubt 
OB oar mind that our fonner inference, natural 
Hd justifiable as it was, did not accord with the 
&ei— tluit in fact the outrages at San Juan were 
Mof aathorized nor justified by any instructions 
ftoni the Irtish Qovemmcnt since the Clayton 
TraiiT was ratified, but that, on the contrary, re- 
peated dispatches from Lord Palmerston had been 
tniMnittea to San Juan, (wliich must have arrived 
ttere Teiy soon after the perpetration of the out- 
o^ges complained of^^ ordering the British officials 
fhereabonts to refrain from any interference with 
or ■■■filimi of authority over American vcsbcIs in 
Aose wmtere or American citizens on their shores. 

Hbs infbrmaticsi entirely changed the aspects of 
- • • » » 




" An the facts since transpired have strengthen- 
ed onr ooDviction that tliis is the real truth — tliat 
Great Brit^ does not mean to assert pretension'* 
rf sovereignty over ' San Juan ' or * Orey town,' or 
say part of Central America, by reason of her 
Aged Ptotectoiate of * Mosquito/" * * * 



* An these statesmen [meaning of the present and 
two prevknis adnunistrations] understand their 

country's interest quite as well, watch for encroach- 
ments upon them as vigilantly, and are quite as 
t«;nacious of American h<mor as their critic in the 
Review, [meaning ourselves,] whose entire diatribe 
smacks of a hereditary proclivity to annihilate the 
British Kmpirc by flowers of rhetoric, and de- 
molish Engli-h domination by liberal allowances 
of Billingsgate and bullyragging." 


" We venture to say that any shrewd Briton 
wlio should read this Review diatribe would say 
at once and unhesitatingly—' That never was 
written by a descendant of the gray-coats who 
fought us so manfully at Bunker llill and flogged 
us so fairly at Bennington and Saratou;a. Men 
who do Fuoh deeds are never so ready tr) thrraten 
thorn. But this must have originated with some 
scion of a race accustomed to revenge itself for 
ag(« of abject subjection by voluble and grandil- 
oquent threats of the vengcanc<i and discomfiture 
it might, could, would or should vi-it upon us on 
some future occasion.' And he would api>arently 
be not far wrong." » * * 


" To put forward an assumption of guardian- 
ship over the whole Continent, and an inherent 
right to resent and res^ist any future accjuisition 
thereon by a European power, while discussing 
events in Central America, is to befog and com- 



""More of IC 


plicate a question "which the Clayton Treaty has 
happily stripped «>f all embarrassments. It is to 
court the o[)position of all Europe to our policy, 
when we niiy;ht as easily command its countenance 
and support" » * » « 


" To eay to Europe, * We will seize and acquire 
wherever and so fast as we can ; but if you grasp 
anotlier acre on this Continent, we'll flog you,' 
what is this b t to put forth great, swelling words, 
such as all the world recognizes as coming oflf an 
empty stomach ?" 


"What gives us such special and exclusive 
rights on this Continent, whereof Great Britain 
owns a larger area than we do, or at least than we 
did till lately ? llemcmbcr that Brazil is nearer to 
Europe than to us, and that we have claimed and 
exercised the right of colonizing a portion of the 
Old World, no one objecting." 


" The whole assumption that we will flog any 
European nation which extends her sway on tins 
Continent, when no treaty with this country is 
violated thereby, is simply gas," <fec., <fec. — New- 
York Tribune, Jan. 0th, 1851. 

(2.) The JWic- York Tribune skotoeth herein that its aa- 
sertions of two days prcviouM were entirely umoarrantedf 
and are really false. 


" We had an interesting call on Thursday from 
an old subscriber, Mr. Doane, of Berrien county, 
Michigan, who left home on the 17th of January 
last for California, was among the earliest of the 
g^eat emigration across the Plains to tliat coun- 
try, arriving in June, and leaving late in October , 
to return by the Niciiragua route." * * 


" He came down to Realejo in a sail vessel ; was 
detainel there two days; was five days coming 
thence to Grenada on Lake Nicaragua ; was there 
detained two days longer ; was two more in trav- 
ersing the Lake (by schooner) to the San Juan ; 
then detained again ; and came down the river 
(in a bunffo, or long narrow boat) in two days more. 
He was sixteen days in all from the time he 
landed at Realejo till he was ready to take ship 
at San Juan de Nicaragua on the Gul£ 


" Our citizens, landing in the night and thor- 
ougldy drenched with rain, were at once deprived 
of all their aiins by the Britiah police in * Orey- 
toum' as they call San Juan de Nicaragua: but 
they were otherwise treated very kindly, and 
finally convey^ to Chagres bj the British brig 

Inflexible, which was professedly blockading the 
coast But for this lift, they might have remained 
at San Juan for weeks. But t/iey wei-e likely to 
create a famine there, and had already raised the 
price of provisions, and the British were glad to 
help th^n away." — Same paper, two days after, Jan- 
uary Uth, 1851. 


** The brig Masardis, Captain Hampton, which 
arrived at this port on Saturday from Belize, Hon- 
duras, confirms the previous accounts we have re- 
ceived of hostilities between the States of Guate- 
mala and San Salvador. Several skirmishes have 
taken place between the troops of the two Statea 
The difficulty has been brought about by the 
blockade of the port of San Salvador by the 
British squadron on the Pacific coast. Against 
this blockade Vasconcelos, the President of the 
State, strongly protests in a proclamation issued 
on the 24th of October, considering it as a pretext 
to get possession of the country. The tnwps of 
Honduras and San Salvador had invaded Chiauin- 
ula, in the State of Guatemala. On the 16tii of 
November the President of the latter State ad- 
dressed a circular to the representatives of foreign 
powers communicating the fact. Mr. Chatfield, in 
reply, states that Great Britain will not lo«.k with 
indifference on the proceeding, but will bold the 
States responsible for any damage to British \v^ 
iercstB."'— Same paper, three days after that again, 
January I4th, 1851. 


" We have received from Mr. C. H. Halsey, of 
Long Island, a more detailed account than we 
gave in our last of the treatment of American 
citizens at the port of San Juan, by the British 
authorities at that place." — Same paper, January 

(5 ) Extract from ike letter of Mr. Hahey^ an .American citi^ 
ten, as published by him in the Sun newspaper of tk« 
2Qth January^ fhoyping that the Editor of the Tribune 
had been in possession of positive and reliable informa- 
tion to the contrary of that which he had previously pub' 
lihedy which truthful statement he deceived his readere, 
by suppressing. 


•« To the Editor of tJie Tribune : 

tt * » « We left San Juan in the Eng- 
h4l steamer Trent, on or about December 16th, 
which is as late, within a very few days, as any ad- 
vices from that place received here. I can assure 
you that no such orders from Lord Palmeraton, as 
you speak of, have been sent to San Juan. As 
for the Englii^h not exercising any authority over 
Americans in San Juan, it is absolutely false. Every 
American citizen iis watched and guarded in the 
most rigid manner by a band of negro police from 
Jamaica. The first moment an American touches 
his foot to the shore, he is required to walk up 
to the Police office and deliver up ALL HIS 


" More of ItP 


>l«ffg^ ^MM, pocket-pistols, knive*, or wlmtevcr 

they ma J bei ♦ • * . * 

•* Id coming over from Realejo, the party of 
vbidi I "WAS one readied Sun Juan in the middle 
of the night We were in all, twenty. We camt; 
dorwn the San Juan river in an opi'n boat, and 
when ve reached the town our native oarsmen 
andiored off the Custom House, and said we must 
remain there till mornin}^. as the En^lisli allowed 
oobod/ to land in the ni^ht. Our pnrty were de- 
termined not to submit to any sucli humbug^in;; 
as that, and so wo seized the boat ourselves, and 
went ashore. Just as the boat struck, up came a 
negm patrol, and ordered us off. Wc drew our 
revolven^ determined to brave a 6g)it On thi^, 
up came an English officer —sergeant— and on our 
opoatulating upon the unnecessary rigor in want- 
ing ns to go back and stay in our Ixmt all niglit, 
he finally consented that we might stay ashore, if 
we would go up to his station, and deliver up our 
vms, wAtVA rM dxme. » « * « 

" Over one hundred Americans from San Juan 
cnoe in the Crescent City, and two or three hun- 
dred in the Georgia. Hiey will all tell you that 
they reoeiTed nmilar treatment. They will all tell 
yon, that up to their leaving San Juan, three weeks 
ago, the English </<</,and icerecx^fretning their author- 
ity iner Ameriean citizen*. They will tell vou ali^o 
tfiat fhejplace i$ in p&stetiioti of the Engthh^ and 
that if Ipey have taken off the duties and made 
fte port **' free,** they still command it, and sub- 
ject American citizens to the control of negroes, 
■kI other indignitiea 

* Chab. H. Hauey, Sag Harbor, L. 1." 

(L) on HVaO, with MR. nALHKV^n LKTTER I!C iiih png- 

"Oreat Britain will therefore relinquish her 
pretensions to San Juan, or (vreytown, as bhe luis 
dcariy contracted to da"* 


"Before agreeing to that treaty, she could havt; 
hdd the mouth of the San Juan against the world, 
•ad called it * Grcyto^ii' as hnig as she pleased.*' 


"She lias already taken ofT American vessels 
the trifling duty imposed by her authority on ves- 
•di TisitiDg that port ; flie has rebuked the in^o- 
icDoe of her officials who annoyed and bullied tlie 
Cftptains and crews of our little steamboats hith- 
arto Mvt down to try the navigation of the San 
Joan; and she will have to withdraw her autliori- 
tiei from the ).ort altogether, accord mg to the 
|iUb letter of the treaty.'* 


"Meantime, we do not learn that any periou*^ 

!, any wanton insult, was suffered by our 

who lately came down the San Juan to the 

ta port; 00 the contrary, they were helped on their 

' way, and Ihrcd very much better than they wnuhi 

have done had there been no HritLsh within a hun- 

drad milea of that point Still, they w ill be obliged 

to phut up shop there, an<l it will not require any 
jH)t house t.waj;i;ering, any penny-a-line bluster, to 
etf<H:t this result." — Same p"/'r)\ Januarii 13/A, 
18r)l, nehiovUJ^jiuff the rtrttpt of Mr. llaUe}f% 


"The Whu; Almanac. — At ltL«*t, nnd much too 
late, we have our litthi Annual ready f.«r those 
who desire it. * * * * Unusual 
aire and lal>or have Ix't-n employed this year to 
make the Almanac full an<l reliable in it» Returns, 
and though it is of course not absolutely fuultless, 
wc are very sure that no manual at all eoiiiparablo 
with this, "for completeness and correctness, has 
hitherto lH»en issued. 

" The Memlwrs of Congres.s, present juid pros- 
pective; with a hketch of the <loii)gs of last Ses- 
sion ; * * « Central America; * * * <fcc., 
<tc.. such are the subjects treated with the utmost 
jMjwer of cimden-jation in the closely printed piiges 
of the Whig Almanac." — Same paper ^ January 

(8> ()neofth»'firi»t thinp:;»tho little* Annual sniil after it wi»a 
born, and whloh it wa«» tau^rlit to tiny h\ its fiitluT, show- 
ing that ho kni'W th" tnio htato "f aff:urs in Nirarnc;ua, 
that what the .•Imerican R/rirto Kui<l on thi> Kuhji-ct was 
Ftrirtly true, nnd, by consoqucnoi', what ho said to throw 
discredit on tho 8tati>uu'nt8 of the Rcrieic was as strictly 


"In 1529, Captain Dieufo Macliuca explored 
Lake Nicaragua, and went down the river San 
Juan (one of the rapids of which still bears his 
name) to the ocean, at the point where now stands 
the town of San Juan de Nioarnirua. Machuea 
proposed to found a colony Ihtc, ami it i^j believed 
did make the attempt, but was interrupted by 
RoV)les, then cruninandaiit at Xonibre de DioH, 
who also m<*ditate<l tho same enti-rpri^e. Tlie-'e 
facts are mentioned here as showini' the ab<urditv 
of the claim to tliat port recently ]>ut forward by 
the Hriti'^h (Joveninient." — Whit; Alniaiutc, p.A^d^ 
art. *^ Central America." 



" After tlie expuKion of th<' Mix'e-in troops, and 
the defeat of the ari«'tocrats, tin- di li-f.iti-^ of the 
several province** or Slates niif in (JtMnral C'imi- 
^re-s, and adopted a Coiistitntinn of ri:ir)n, under 
the name of the * Kepiiblie of Central America.* 
This Con-'titution enduretl until ls:;s,Avlien, in con- 
se(iu<Mice of dissensions in and between the States, 
liHinstrioufili/ fo})if}itnJ hif lirififih «i<f«'nfs, it was 
dissolved, nnd the five States a^ain s<'verallv as- 
sumed their sovereij^n charai^ter." — 77/t' ''little 
Annual" ibid. 


"Previous t(» 1703, CJreat Ihitain made some 
pretensions upon the Mo«*(j»iitti Sliore.— not. how- 
ever, as protector of any Indian triln'-'. but in ab- 
solute sovereii^nitv. The-^e were sweepintjlv <lis- 
pose<l of by the treatits of 17ti:*», 178:i. and 'l78ft, 
between (ireat Hrit;iin ami S|>ain, in which the 
former agrees not only to evacuate the M«'>iuito 


''MwB of itr 


Shore, but to withdraw her protection from her 
oim siibj'?rfs who sliould be so ' daring as to pre- 
sume ' to remain there, or * to obstruct the entire 
evacuation agreed upon by His Britannic Ma- 
jesty.' " — T/i€ Tribune's Vade-inccum, ibid. 

OUR hero's own history op mosquito, as given by 


" Subsequently, a treaty was negotiated by Mr. 
Clayton, Secretary of State of the United States, 
and Sir Henry Bulwer, Minister of Great Britain, 
providing for extending the protection of both 
countries over any route of communication which 
may be opened across the continent, and also for 
the abandonment of British territorial pretensions, 
and tlie withdrawal of British establishments, on 
the coast of Central America. 

"The Briti^rh pretensions consist in an alleged 

Srotectorate over a mixed brood of Indians and 
egroes, who have maintained a miserable ex- 
istence on that part of the Atlantic coast of Nica- 
ragua bearing the geographical designation of the 
* Mosquito Shore,' and who, it is claimed by the 
British Government, are entitled to be considered 
as a sovereign people. They have, however, no 
written languages, no religion, no laws — not a sin- 
gle feature to elevate them above the lowest order 
of savages. Under the pretense above indicated, 
the agents of Great Britain have undertaken to fix 
the limits of the supposititious Mosquito Kingdom, 
as including the entire coast from Cape Honduras 
to the boundary of New-Granada, a line of more 
than 800 miles, and extending inward indefinitely. 
This preposterous claim, of course, takes in the 
mouth of the river San Juan and the port of San 
Juan de Nicaragua, the only possible Atlantic ter- 
minus of the proposed canal. This port, which, as 
we have seen, was occupied by the Spaniards as 
early as 1529, and which was subsequently, by royal 
decree, made a port of entry, and fortified by the 
Spanish Government, and afterward captured from 
the Royal forces by tlie Republican army of Nicara- 
gua, peaceably occupied by the people of that State, 
and, as a part of Nicaragua, blockaded by the 
English in 1844: — this p)rt was wrested from the 
Nicaraguans in January, 1848, by a British force 
under the command of Captain G. C. Loch, of 
H. B. Majesty's ship * Alarm,' and has since been 
occupied by English authorities, under the pre- 
tense of belonging to the so-called Mosquito 
Kingdom. It has not been surrendered to Nica- 
niguji, nor has it been formally ascertained that 
Briti.Nh assumptions have been in any degree re- 
laxed in consequence of our treaty with England 
above referred to; but we are reliably assured 
that they have been, and that the British occupa- 
tiuu will soon be abandoned." 

The difference between the name man, as political editoTfand 
as father of a little Jinnual. 


" The State of Nicaragua — that is, the inliabited 
territory so named — lies almost wholly westward 
of the Lake Nicaragua, between it and the Pacific 
Ocean, though it stretches some miles north of the 
Lake. The river San Juan drains the Lake, rnn- 
ning sou th-eaAt ward ly into the Gulf of Mexico, 

about 150 milea North of the river and east of 
the mountains which approach the Lake is the 
' Mosquito Coast,* so called, which Great Britain 
has long ruled in the name of a succession of 
savage Chiefs, or pretended Chiefs, whom she has 
christened Kings of Mosquita But neither by the 
Nicaraguans nor the Mosquitoes and their British 
masters has the valley of the San Juan been peopled 
at any time within the memory of maa It is a 
dense forest or mass of luxuriant tropical vegeta- 
tion, filled with wild beasts, but rarely penetrated 
b^ man, save in navigating the river. A small 
village (San Carlos) marks the point of its de- 
parture from the Jj&ke ; another collection of huts 
^San Juan de Nicaragua, the British * Greytown,'J 
is found at its mouth on the Gulf of Mexico, ana 
there may be half a dozen huts, inhabited by 
negroes and demi-sarages, at two or three inter- 
mediate points where the 'piragua' or 'bungo' 
navigation is interrupted by rapids ; all the rest is 
wilderness.** — New- York Tribune, Jan. 13/A, 1851. 


" Indeed, it is ver^ evident that Central Ame- 
rica must be to California and Oregon what the 
West Indies have hitherto been to our confede- 
racy. Sugar, cotton, coffee, cocoa, rice, indigo, to- 
bacco, maize — in short, all the staples and fruits of 
the tropics — are produced in Nicar^ua in the 
greatest abundance and perfection. There are a 
large number of cattle -estates in the countir ; and 
hides, with indigo, coffee, and Brazil- wcKxi, form 
the principal articles of export" — Whig Ahnanac, 
G^reeley and McElratk, Nevh York, 1851. 

We need not continue — Ohe! Jam satis / 

In again stooping to notice tbe irregulari- 
ties of the ^ew-JTork Tribune, after its publi- 
cation of the first of the above extracts, (Ex. 
1,) we must descend still lower from our dig- 
nity than we had previously anticipated it was 
possible, by the " proclivity," whether hered- 
itary or not, of its editor's character, to 
be compelled at any time to descend in re- 
plying to him. It is not necessary for us 
here again, in this connection, to renew the 
subject of British aggression in Nicaragua, 
and to expose still furtlier than the above 
extracts do, the sinuosities, the ground- 
less statements, the reckless inconsistencies, 
printed day after day by the editor of the 
Tribune. To the newspaper publisher, 
who alone of all the American press has 
presumed to defend the rights of Great 
Britain, or any other European power, to 
seize territory after territory on this conti- 
nent, and who has presumed to maintain that 
these United States have no right to inter- 
fere ; to the unscrupulous apologist and de- 
fender of Sir Uenry Lytton Bulwer ; to the 
reckless falsifier in one publication of state- 


""More of nr 


mcntB'to wliicb ho has contemporanoously 
pledged himself in another ; to the exhibi- 
tor of qwk»i assurances which lie liad not^ 
and the suppressor of positive ovi<l<Micc con- 
tradicting them whicli he h:ul, it is not in 
our power to offer any suj^gestiou or advice 
whic-K could ser>'e him in tlic peculiar line 
of business he has selecteil. Tlio country 
whose hard- won rights he ignores ; tho j)0o- 
ple he has attempted, under a ma><k of moral 
puritanism, to deceive; tho foreign Govern- 
ment whose usurpations he unhukls; the 
servants of Barclay street to wh<»m ho is so 
thoroughly devoted, and the othor charla- 
tans and mountebanks whose blowin(;-horn 
he is ambitioas to be considered, will take 
care of him. To them, with thf sincerest 
good wishes we are capable of giving for th(»ir 
behoof, we leave him and his services in this 

But the laws of debate, the laws which 
from time immemorial have r»'frnlatod the 
decorum of argumc^ut, >>oth in the schools 
of Aristotle and Zeno, and the columns 
of the modern newspaper ; the R»'j>ublican 
Constitution and equality of the Ani<.^ncan 
people; the injustice of stigmatizing any 
portion of them as citizens of foreign l^irth ; 
the reckless treason of carrying a war of 
races into this continent, of splitting u]) ovi*ry 
State into foreign and native* factions, ;ls niul- 
titadinous as tho cuts of their beard, or the di- 
verse colors of their hair, arc i)riiKij)hs on tho 
present occasion more worthy of Ix-ing sus- 
tained br us. Wlio the writer of any article 
m this Review may Ik*, is a matter wliich 
oonceras the editor and the writer only. Tf 
the facts put forward are n<jt facts, if th< 

gressod in our own. It is sufficient for our 
r(?aders to kiu)W that tho articles we pub- 
lish are the articles of the American Keview. 
Lot thein l>e judged in that light — defended 
or refuted in that light. WliiK', therefore, 
the nows])apor prolotaire, or daily-talking 
cla<s, nuLst be. (juite content to ntecivi; them 
as our articles, and ouis alone; while wo 
are always pleas«Ml at their good-will, in- 
terost^'d in th«'ir candid di>en>sinns, and ex- 
tremely indiliert-nt to their ill-eonsi<lered 
abuse, it may Im* intcn^sting to our readers 
\k) see how some of this very daily-talking 
chiss of publications evade an argument 
fairly directed against them. 

AVo luul, nion* than once, occasion to refer 
to the manifest inconsistencies with reijjard to 
the Ontral American ([uestion, of a certain 
])ortion of the newspaper press. After witr 
nessin;; siu?h exhibitions for several months, 
we Considered we would l.>e doinij the cause of 
American ri^rht and orood faith a very evitlent 
service, by exposing it in a single instance. 
Accordintrly, takinxr \\\> \\\y' N{:w-Yorlc Tri- 
banc as the nearest to our hand, and jus rx^mg 
nominally AVhiir, wo collated some extracts 
from it, published on successive days, and ap- 
pended to them an article which has etfeeted 
all we sought for. Tho Tribune rej)lied by 
acknowl<d«rinir its inconsistencies auil rei)eat- 
hig them — by further burying itself m the 
most reekl«'ss assurances for whi<*h it had 
not one particle of foundation — by evading 
the arguments we advance<l, and then, 
throuirh sheer anjxcr at (»ur calm and 
exhibition of its own misdeeds, by «'ndeavor- 
ing to scn-en itsi-lf from public indignation, by 
j)ersonally attacking some imaginary indivi- 

argu^ients advanced are unsustaincd or so- j dual whom it, in its witless fancy, suj>i>osed 
phistical, let tlie falsehood or the fallacy be to Ix; the writ<T of the article in (question, 
exposed; and we undertake that neither 
will the editor of this Keview shrink from 
his responsibility by throwing it on his con- 
tributor, nor will tiie contributor, whoever 
he may be, (and dozens of gentlemen are in 
the habit of enriching our pages with their 
thoughts,) evikde the duty of sustaining the 

as a "scion of a race;" and by fiutli^r 
attackin<r the sup]»osed race and nation of 
the imaginary writer as one in the o]>iin<m 
of some "shrewd liriton'' (the " slirewd 
Briton" being the editor of the Tribune) 
" ac<'Ustnined to revenr^e itself for ai^cs of 
abject subjt'ction by voluble and grandi- 

position to which he has committed hinLs<*lf j lo<pient threats," <tc. — as :i race "of a heri'di- 

and us. We are satislied with this rule, and 
88 wc bestow much more consideration and 
forethought on the papers w^e select for the 
public, than necessarily is the wont of pub- 
lications more frequently issued, and less 
ezpenaivelj conducted, we will be the hist 
of the American press to transgress it in the 
case of others, or permit it to be trans- 

tary proclivity to annihilate tho British 
emj)ire by flowers of rhetoric, and demolish 
English domination by liberal allowances 
of Billingsgate and bullyragging.'' The 
" shrewd Briton" is further made to say 
that our article " never wjts written by a 
descen<lant of the gray-coats Avho fought 
us (the Tribune^ s kept Briti.^her) so man- 


« More of Itr 


fully at Bunker Hill, and flogged us so 
fairly at Bennington and Saratoga." How 
the "shrewd Briton" found so much out 
we cannot imagine; we would say it was 
by the aid of the Rochester knocking girls, 
but that it is strictly true we believe ; but 
surely the noisy young women referred to 
would be more at fault if they said, with 
reference to the Tribune's reply, "that it 
was written by a descendant of the gray- 
coats" aforesaid. The "gray-coats" were 
good republicans ; did not traduce men sim- 
ply because they may have been born under 
a different meridian ; the " gray-coats " being 
Americans, and consequently very much 
traduced and abused by "shrewd Britons," 
did not care much for what the shrewd 
Britons said about themselves, and still less 
what falsehoods they advanced against other 
peoples, whom it was equally their interest 
and desire to traduce; but above all, the 
gray-coats were men, and it is to be hoped 
they begot men, and not beings in gray 
coats so cowardly as to evade a direct and 
fair argument by a sneaking attack upon a 
nation, dozens of whose children he buried 
side by side with them on Bunker Hill, and 
in Lexington and Concord; one of whose 
sons was one of their noblest and most chi- 
valrous generals — nor beings so lost to de- 
corum as to add to the meanness of the 
unworthy attack, an "allowance of Bil- 
lingsgate and bullyragging," perfectly une- 
volvable by the largest termagant of aban- 
doned character domiciled in the negro 
quarter. A heritage of gray coats on such 
a being, even though the editor of the 
Tribune might possess the same, would be 
, but the more positive evidence that he was 
justly entitled to the honors of the bar sinis- 
ter. If such a being had one such coat, he 
should deposit it carefully, on occasions like 
the present, among the archives of his family 
secrets ; for it is an old French adage, and a 
good one, that " people should not wash 
their dirty linen before the world." 

If it were necessary to heap superabun- 
dant ridicule on the use of such language 
by the editor of the Tribune, we would 
have but to refer to the harmonious 
patronymic in which he rejoices, and to a 
rumor we have heard, that it and he are 
not removed by many degrees of consan- 
guinity from the soil and the people he ca- 
lumniates in epithets so vituperative and 
unmeasured. But, anxious as we are to ab- 

stain from the peculiar line of "argument" 
the Tribune has itself adopted, we will 
not lift the veil from its genealogy, and 
prove it guilty of moral matricide. Thank 
Heaven, in this country, at all events, it 
matters nothing whence any individual 
may have descended, and we will abstain 
even in this instance froni contravening this 
sound Republican principle to exhibit the 
unfilial ingratitude of an opponent so reck- 
less, so egotistical, so violent and so unjus- 
tifiable in attack. But the editor of the 
Tribune is at all events the erstwhile member 
of Congress from one of the most Irish dis- 
tricts of New- York ; the bepraiser on 
all occasions which may bring to himself 
electioneering success, paitisan favor or mon- 
etary profit, of that portion of our pop- 
ulation which owes its mediate or imme- 
diate origin to Irish soil. We have al- 
ready in matters of more moment exhib- 
ited, in a very hmited degree, the manifold 
examples of exti*avagant inconsistency, of 
reckless prevarication and contradiction, of 
the prodigal waste of any political rep- 
utation the Tribune may have at any 
time acquired, on the single question of 
British aggression in Nicaragua. Can its 
editor have imagined that this more recent 
unmeasured and "shrewdly British" attack 
on the Irish race resident on this soil, his 
new attempt to raise against them the shib- 
boleths of a forgotten and ridiculous faction, 
is calculated to show to our readers or his 
own that we were wrong in our representa- 
tion of his conduct and his character ? On 
the contraiy, does not the article to which 
we have referred prove incontestably, even 
on its own pages, that his journal is not only 
thoroughly inconsistent eiUier from reckless- 
ness or want of memory, but thoroughly 
faithless and thoroughly insincere in its 
warmest professions? We had given the 
editor of the Tribune some credit for an un- 
scrupulous worldly wisdom ; but our error 
in doing so will ere long be proved to his 
satisfaction and our own, by men of the very 
race he has so recklessly calumniated. 

However, to place this recent exhibition by 
the editor of the Tribune in a light merely 
personal to him, is but to hide the greater 
questions which have been thrust upon our 
attention. It is none <^ our business to de- 
fend the character of the Irish nation from 
the most unwarranted attack, or to apologize 
for their existence here. If any inhaUtant 


"jfore of nr 


of tMs country of Irish descent or birth 
thinks himself called on, before ho can 
meet Americans, or even " Anglo-Sax- 
ons," on an equality, to defend his ances- 
tors or his brethren from such niisrcprcs(.*n- 
tations as the British nation, government, 
or organs, may have at any time for some 
five or six hundreds of yeare thrown upon 
them, even though such representations 
may have been taken up and refulmina- 
ted by a "liberal" and ''niorar' editor 
of New- York — the man so thinking had 
better go home. This Republic is, thank 
God, no place for him. From the time 
when British governments, British writers, 
and British sjKsakers rej^resentod the citi- 
Eens of this country as the sons of thieves 
and murderers, and as the spawn of every 
rascaldom and vagrancy, to the later days 
when the same reliable authorities designa- 
ted as as a nation of swindlers and pick- 
pockets, we have been taught by the Brit- 
ish themselves that^ in their relations Xa^ other 
peoples at all events, they are by nature liare, 
aod by policy Uars. 

But were it even not so, the Irishman would 
be unworthy of citizenship, who, to justify 
his liberty of speech or action on this soil, 
stooped to defend by argument, from British 
ealumny, his country or his countrymen. 
In this country they who hav(i to appeal to 
tncestors, are only those devoid of poi-sonal 
character or strength. It matU^rs u(Ahing 
who a man's ancestor may have b«.'on, 
what may have been the faults of his origin, 
or the misfortunes of his progenitors, pro- 
irided he be himself a man, worthy of the 
good opinion of his fellow-citizons, and loyal 
to their laws. None but an aristrxjrat dares, 
on this soil, to insult a man for Iiis birth, 
and to an aristocrat of such conti'mptiblo 
eharacter and vulgar deportment, an argu- 
ment is not the answer which should be 
EVen. Nevertheless, an Irishman is th(i 
it man of foreign birth on this soil, <nt 
whose door an insult on the score of nativity 
can lie. A man so lucky as to be born in the 
free oak openings of Michigan, within reach 
of a common school, of an egotistical char- 
acter, and a limited education, may con- 
nder himself warranted in treating with 
contumely a people which, no matter what 
neat men it may have begotten, has been 
m the main cooped up for centuries in a 
nanow island, and therein subjected to the 
cerebral pressure of a foreign anarchy, a 

native oligarchy, and two organized super- 
stitions like those of the Roman and the 
English " religions ;" but the less proj u- 
diced and larger-minded man of the world 
will take the egotist himself, so drunken 
with his worldly luck as to hazard the vul- 
gar reproach, and having subjected him in 
fancy to the same tyranny and tyrannies, 
ask the interested audience. What a s:orry 
fool must this fellow's self become, when he 
is so vain and utterly insensate as to charge 
as a crime the sustentation of humjin lite and 
genius for ages under a system he has not 
strength of frame or of mind sufficient to 
endure for an hour? An American who 

! would give up without a blow the isthmus 
of Central America to the rapacity of Eng- 
land, must no doubt regard it as extremely 
ridiculous and absurd in Irishmen, after hav- 
ing kei)t up a fruitless war, interrupted only 
by j)e{iceful famines, from the twelfth to the 
nineteenth centurv, ajrainst Enorland and 
Englishmen, — must think it, indeed, very 
absurd in such men to hojxs even at the 
present day, of ever regaining their own 
country ; but Americans of more Republican 
sym2)athies, and less ignoble soul, will re- 
joice that our country numbers among its 
immigrant j^pulations millions of a fecund 
race, so immovable in their hatred of op- 

i pression and their antagonism to ^vrong. 
An editor who, if a British fleet were lyii»g 
at anchor in th(i Hudson, would surrender 
New- York rather than incur the pecuniary 
and sanpjuineous loss of a valiant defense, 
may aflt'ct to desj/isc a race who, even when 
beaten, are. not wise enough to give up; but 
tho Republican, wherever he may be born, 
will 2>1.*UM3 the philosophic editor who would 
give \x\\ all rather than fight, and the ig- 
norant peasant who would tii^ht tfven after 
losing; all, side bv side, and acknowledi^e 
that the one merits the, doom of ijjnorance 
and pauperism, to which the other has been 
brutally and undesorv(.'dly subjected. To 
such a race, no insult can b(* given by such 
a man. That which Im attril)ut<»s to tliem 
as a crime, becomes, when compared with 
his meanness and his want of decent man- 
hood, a pride ; and that of which he boasts — 
tho chance of birth, the vulgar attribute of 
position, and a full, not an empty stomach — 
proves, when compared with their lot, how 
utterly unworthy he is of tho attributes 
which have befallen him, and which he has 
so idiotically abused. 


"Jfor« o///» 


But independently of any considerations 
with reference to the land of their nativity, 
the Irish by birth or descent of this countiy 
are from their position in tliis country, and 
from their services to her, the last of our im- 
migrant population against whom could be 
directed with justice, or even without mani- 
fest indecency, laugutige of the character 
we have extracted from the Tribune, The 
exploits of Irishmen in Ireland, the probabil- 
ities they may attempt hereafter, we leave 
entirely to those catch-penny newspapers 
which live upon the earnings of the immi- 
grant by repainting, recasting, and redu- 
plicating the obsolete traditions of his far-off 
home. It may suit the proprietors of these 
and other j)rints to propagate an Irishism on 
this continent, but that is the very opposite 
of our intention. Even the American, desiring 
to know something of the history of the Irish, 
need not expect any from us. Let him con- 
sult the first of modern historians, Augustus 
Thierry the Frenchman, and even the pages 
of the English HoUinshed, Davies, Hume, 
and Musgrave, that is, if the said American 
knows how to glean one grain of truth from a 
mass of falsehood. • Even the student, curious 
in history, may follow their footsteps through 
the wars of Euroi>e and Asia from the age of 
Louis XIV. to that of Napoleon ; from the 
field of Lannes to the defense of Cremona, 
and the sieges of Belgrade and Pondicher- 
ry — may take up their history in Spain and 
Russia as the legion of Napoleon; in the 
Netherlands as the avant-garde in one cen- 
tury of Le Grand Mouarque, and the next as 
the flower of that army which conquered 
Europe on the field of Waterloo ; and may 
thence derive a very excellent lesson on the 
consequences to humanity of permitting a 
brave and hardy nation to be first conquered, 
and then conscribed into the armies of the 
conqueror. But with these matters we have 
no present concern. Our business is to 
speak of Irishmen in this Republic; and 
here at all events, to tell the simple truth, 
it must be acknowledged that the fulmi- 
nations of the Tribune^ and men of his 
kidney, are utterly inapplicable. Here, at 
all events, the Iiish have stood the brunt of 
danger, and have faithfully discharged the 
requirements of citizenship. U they do 
possess a high j)osition and an extensive 
power on this continent, they have earned it 
well, and used it becomingly. Here, at all 
events, no American can say that ihey have 

been used to avenge themselves or defend 
themselves by Billingsgate or bullyragging. 
On the contrary, wherever a stand-up fight 
for American liberty or Ameiican right 
against England or any other power was to 
be had, since the first dawn of the Repubhc's 
existence, there, and in our ranks, were 
Irishmen to be found. On the battle-fields 
of Massachusetts, as we have said, in those 
very identical gray coats and in homespun, 
have these islanders fought and died for the 
liberty their children and America attained ; 
and base indeed is the man who would seek 
to deprive them of that glory which is his 
own. The Puritan State itself has not 
scrupled to erect monuments and dedicate 
slabs to record how well Irishmen fought, 
and how manfully they died for American 
liberty. Without distinction of creed or 
party, whenever American liberties were atr 
tacked or even threatened, they have been 
found on the right side and in the right 
place. From the Irish gray-coats who fol- 
lowed Warren to immortahty, to the farm- 
ers of Vermont and Maine, of Irish descent, 
who were found in the ranks of Starke, a 
"scion of the race" — ^from the Irish population 
which turned out with their priests at their 
head to throw up the works around Phila- 
delphia, to that General who in 1812 
guarded the abandoned city of New-Or- 
leans, the Irish of America have done their 
work hke men. The fields of Mexico are 
too fresh in our memory to need recapitu- 
lation. But within sight of the City Hall of 
New- York, before St Paul's Church, stand 
two memorable monuments — they are those 
of the brother of Emmettand of the hero of 
Quebec — that Montgomery, whose disinter- 
ested chivalry ennobles him, in the liturgy 
of American martyrs, as second only to 
Washington, and these both were Irishmen. 
The presidential chair was once at all events 
filled and honored by a man who only escaped 
being an Irishman to enable him to become 
chief magistrate of this Repubhc Irishmen 
native-born and by descent have been over 
and over again members of American Cabi-. 
nets and Secretaries of State — one " scion of 
the race " lately dead, and whom in his grave 
all honor, Calhoun. They are and have ever 
been found among State and Congressional 
representatives and senators, on the benches 
of judges, and among the most honored of 
our professions; and the only instance of 
" Billingsgate and bullyragging" which can 


''More of Itr 


be attributed to them is that speech of Pat- 
rick Henry, which will live while the Union 
lives, and which he would utter again tonbiy 
had he the misfortune to exist and witness 
the United States pandering to the outrages 
of his enemies on their sovereignty and that 
of an allied Republic. Would to Heaven 
we had a little more of that " l^illinixsijate ;" 
It is plentifully lack just now. In the re- 
cords of inventive genius, to which, even 
more than to military exploits or furonsic 
eloquence, wo owe the astonishing progress 
of the United States, not a few Irish names 
are also to bo found ; and that of O'Reilly 
stands second to Morse alone. But the 
Irish of America are not to be judged l)y 
the pre-eminence of individual mind, or by 
the honors or emoluments which may have 
justly fallen to ,the share of individuals of 
their countrymen. The Irish race as a mass 
m this country are deserving of the higliest 
respect and honor by every true American, 
ind the citizenship they have acquired they 
have earned well. We have seen them aidini; 
in the presidential chair, in leading the ar- 
mies, fighting the battles, and constructing 
the Constitution and the laws of the Republic. 
But alone of all the races which have mi- 
grated to this continent within this centur\' 
or the last, they have never fail«'d to oxpond 
their industry on the severest labur, and the 
most thankless offices known to tho State. 
The Gennan immigrant brcomes a taiiner 
if he be wealthy, otherwise a huxt^'r or 
a pedlar, or a slop-worker, llie Phiglish- 
man seeks out polite and easy employment, 
wherein he can live without nmch j)ersonal 
exertion on the labor of others. But the 
Irishman graduates for citizenship by long 
years of ser\dce in building up our railrc^ads 
and viaducts, tunnelling mountaiiL**, ciirryiug 
rivers from hill to city, draining the foulest 
place of habitation, and performing the most 
arduous and menial duties essential to the 

ritness of that Republican emi>ire of which 
desires to be a portion, and necessary 
to the very life of ite inhabit^mts. In the 
higher grades of industry, among builders, 
architects, engineers, among merchants, man- 
ufacturers, you will find Irishmen too, and 
in our great cities, among the most influ- 
ential for personal probity, clear intellect, 
raterprise, and humanity, are to be met 
hundreds of " scions of that race " vitupe- 
rated by the Tribune. American literature 
too owes not a Uttle to Irishmen, for if the 

genius of tlie dead Goldsmith has formed the 
most eloquent and excjuisite of our authors, 
Irving, who of our generation has not listened 
in rajtture to the gonial eloquenco and origi- 
nal fancy of 1 L-niy (.Jile> ? Far oft" too in the 
western lands, reclaiming new States for the 
seed-time of civilization, the Irish farmer Is 
to be found everywhere vieincrwith the noma- 
die Xew-Kni;]ander in the subiu<jation of tho 
forest. Can, then, any inij)eilinent and su- 
j)ercilious effrontery excoed that of the Edi- 
tor of the Trihinie^ wln-n ho vontured, even 
in anir^^r, to direct afjainst an American 
raa^, which has produced such men fu^ wo 
have hinted at, and done such deeds for 
their adojited countr}^ as we have barely no- 
ticed, a diatribe so unscrupulous, so false, 
and so offt-nsive to every Republican ? Were 
the Irish in Ireland even the lowest mortals, 
the most desjMcable specimens of humanity 
known to history or men, surely their acts 
in this country should proti-ct thorn from 
malicious falsehood, and entitle them to the 
warmest friendship and sincere st esteem. 

There is one more reason why the Irish- 
man should stand hii^hest of all foroiiiniers 
on this soil. For, arriving in this country 
under greater disadvantages than any other 
immigrant, he alone of them all, from tho 
very nioin«.'nt he touches this soil, embodies 
himself heart and soul with the R<^j)ubHc, 
yields to it a full and generous l(.»yalty, and 
stri])s himself of every synn)athy and alle- 
giance which couKl intervene between him 
and his duties as a citizen. Contrast him 
with the ** shrewd Briton," who makes this 
country a fnfld for porsc^nal emolument, who 
can see nothing in our Ri^jiublic but themes 
for jibes and ignorant dt-rision, who lives 
and dies up(.>n the soil which gives him food 
and shelter, a monarchist, envious of its suc- 
cess, abhorring its grt'atness, and at war in 
soul with its institutions and its laws, and 
answer, which is the most worthy of re- 
spect ? 

We have dealt temperately and tersely 
with this subject. But the conduct of tho 
Tribune strike's even deeper at the social 
basis of the Union and of eveiy State of it, 
than it does against an individual rai^e. If 
there be one essential paramount to all others 
in the vit.'ility of the United States, it is tho 
amalgamation of all races on this continent 
into one American whole. It may not be 
treason by law, but it is in soul, treason the 
most deadly, to endeavor to foment a social 


""Mwe of le 


or servile war either between classes or races 
in this llepublic. The Editor of the Tribune 
has ah-eady expended much energy to that 
end in his abolition gambols. From such a 
man only could an attempt originate to split 
up the compact society of every city and State, 
into " races" at war with each other and the 
land which protects them. With such a man 
only could the scheme find favor of pitting on 
this soil the Pole against the German, the 
llungarian against the Austrian, the Italian 
against the Fiench, the Irishman against 
*' the shrewd Briton ;" of carrying into the 
bosom of this society the vituperative epi- 
thets used by the conquering races against 
the conquered of Europe of stigmatizing 
race after i*ace with the slang of falsehood 
used by its more fortunate antagonists, and 
reproducing, North, South, East and West, 
a war of races to which any insurrection of 
negroes against w^liite men would bo mere 
child's i>lay, and a few of the eflfects of 
which we have not very long since seen in 
the Nativist " riots" of Philadelphia, Boston 
and New-York. 

Such is the position the editor of the Tribune 
has now assumed. To notice him in future 

may perhaps be to descend even still lower 
from our dignity than we have heretofore 
done. But if for the nonce he may assume the 
bearing of a gentleman, speak in language 
not positively indecent, and remove the stig- 
mas he has already drawn upon his paper, 
we may honor him again with our attention. 
Meantime he must be content to bear not 
only the reputation of the ready upholder 
of every public delinquency and private char- 
latanism, from the assurances of Sir Henry 
Lytton Bulwer to the Rochester knockiugs, 
and of an individual who seeks by negro- 
disunionism, to drive the South into separa- 
tion that it may protect its State and ina- 
lienable rights, but further as a public incen- 
diary among white men, a schemer so un- 
scrupulous as to plot a war of races even in 
the North — in short, a nativist of the 
worst type, and that, too, without a particle 
of sincere aflfection for the Republic of whose 
fallen citizens he is a melancholy example, 
but actuated solely by the sympathies, opin- 
ions, and desires of his adviser, " the shrewd 
Briton," whose identity, as at present we 
have no communion with the other world, 
we cannot pretend to determine in this. 



'SttULmtaoA' a TBI Sbikts. — A motion, hu 
ben tmunmoodj puMd bj the Sen&te, on the 
■■boa of OMMial Shialds, eallioK oa the Eieeu- 
HMfermbmiiini ralatiTe to Bntiih oatngea in 

()■ ITew Twr't Dsr, 18S1, tbe Anuricea 
»mmti Bittetor, with the IT. a fUg at the tan, 
MMK oraraMM the n^Mde of the rivw San Juan, 
■d lb atili man inaqparsUe obalaelM of Britiah 
■ h r fa i uw, abot oat into the wateie of the great 
[ak» of Xiouigoi'-the flnt veMel larger Ihao - 
■HO or piragM vbii^ erei floated on the it 
wT Mk at Ganlnl AmericM. Tliia iutelligeaon 
■idad tUa ci^ on the 2lBt Jaoiuuy, ti^ tbe 
'ViaaKJbaH ateaaur, (rom Cbagrea and " Qnj- 
MK* FoHj aixwMii ago, at JdloTenli, certain 
|i«l^ Cf mMDonUa aaranuKS, ataled tb»t orden 
W bean teat to the fikiliafa a(Mte in Ocntral 
Wiriaa, to diaocotfana eactain oDtrageaon Amsh- 
■n dtitcoa tnvellmg hj the NkaraguaB rente 
MS iLa Faidfic t« the Atlantia Statea of thi* 
Vim, Of coor**, tbs mere diNaotiDnance of 
kiH ontngca woold traonDi to DOthigg in the 
m JMBO. Bat the aniral of the FmMXnu 
fm in e rwt aatably, that the ttalmunta of the 
9tat w!b(m refnred to an &iae ; for, vitbin 
••oilj-oae da^ bekre the ntriml ot the Prami. 
In* ]icr muls show that ihe sum* Bjalem of 
Mirige had bcun, nilEiout the Blighleel iDterrup- 
Imi, u eompUccntlr and deleriiiinedlj' aj ever 
pnued bj Ihe British. We ask our reodera to 
oomirB dales, and judge for tJicnisclves. So vile 
••JMcm of ijstematiciiUy raisin forminfj the pub' 
fc bw never before been known in the Uniied 
*jl» It ban been practised by Briliab cabinele, 
•ad Iheir bired ncwapaperf, from the dayii of the 
*lw Pill to Uioso of Lord RuBaell, but by »hom 
"■^ed hero, unless by " Sir Henry," tlic Toture 
*»t ilelennine. One thing wa know at all events, 
« oijuy its practice. In tbis connection, how- 
"w. ii niay bu well to do juatiee to the nood, and 
n™ lo the contrite sinner. Kn»Q the Ncv-Y-yrk 
.iWiiM.of the lath January, WB extract thefollow- 
^»ilb relereoce to the treaty violated by every 
<<nili«yanbe Slate of Nicaragua. In connection 
*i>k (ana other eilnctiof an oppoaite tendency on 
■» fame aulnect, which we have heretofore Inken 
^ the Tfiluar. the following aflfordu a remark- 
w uample of the aciance upokeri of in our last 
**(ier. via., the acience of taking the opposite 
•M of a questko ia turn, without being com- 
■■tlcd to either, and (wliile in iDdiflerenlly good 
nper) without offending anybody. The aiilor 
t the Triiav ii one of ita abteit pnutitioneta. 
b iaatl«r what may eventuate on tJiii matter — 
■ natter what result may follow — no matter 
VA aide, bU counlry'a or the British, may tie 

I dedared ri^t, he cu aqr, " Kdirt I ny it would r 
I So of the Boeheater knodun^a— "Do the dead 
coDTerae vith tlie lirfaig in tks wwldf— Faine'a 
gaa.Bulwer'a character, Ac AcAc Let n^ there- 
fore, record, that in one inatanee, at all erenta, the 
Editor of the TVihnu baa taken meaiDrea to 
dodge to the rt^Af eidaoftbe Clajtoa aod Bulwer 
Treaty. He lately wrote aa 'Ulowa :— *■ The fiiet 
and most awleiial aectioo of tluit Trea^ rtada aa 
follows : ' Abticlb L — Tia GovenmenU of the 
United States and Great Britain herely daclan^ 
that neither the one nor the other will ever obtain 
or maintain for itaelf any exdueive control over 
j theaaid ahip canal ; agreeing thatneilher will ever 
! erect or mainttun any forlwcatioDa eommandii^ 
I the aame or b the vidiu^ thereol; oi eceupy, or 
I fw^ty, or ooloaUe, or oumm or txtrdm »ay do- 
! minion over ITieaiagiia, Coata Bka, the Mcaqidto 
coMt, or my part of Central Amnka; itor will 
either make me of any protection which either 
afbrdiOTmaj aJIbrd, or any aDlancA which either 
has or may have to or wEu any Btato or people, 
fbrtheparpoee<^ erecting or maintaining any audi 
fcrtiflcaliooa, or of oeemirfo;, fbrtiFylng, or eoto- 
ntn'i^ Nicaiagoa, Cotta Sica, the Moaauito «aa«t^ 
or any part oT Genital America, or of aaaum ii Mr 
or exerdtiiw dominion over the aame; nor will 
the United Stataa or Oreat Britain take advantaga 
of any intimacy, or use ai "" '" 

influeiKC. that either may 
or Oovemment Ihroogh ' 
I canal may pass, for the purpose of actjuiring o 
holding, directly «t iudirectlv, fur the citizens O 
subjects or the one. any rights or advaatascs in 
regard tn commerce or navigation through the 
saiii canal which sliiU not be offered on the same 
terms to the citizens or aubjecti of tlie other.' 
This article, we maintain, is coDcluuve as to the 
main point in question. No matter whether San 
Juan de Nicaragua belongs to Uosquito, Nicara- 
gua, or nny other power, neither tlreat Britain nor 
the United Stales can oceupj/. fortify, assume or 
cierdse nny jurisdiction over it, whether in her 
own right or as Ihe protector and ally of soma 
other power." Let us be juit to the evil-doer- 
Tho above is from the Nets- York Tribune of Ihe 
13th January, 186L There is balm in Oilcad 
still, and much hope fur tii aioDcra 

Tn» Poura Ma. Bfll 1— Certain itoriei and 
rumors full of nauseous senti mental ism have been 
current in the newspapers of late relative to the 
verysre«tpoliteneuol Mr.Joho Bull, Mr. Irasdbla 
ChatIeld,Bnd British polloeroen Sambo and Qna- 
shee, towards some nnrorlunata American citizens 
pawing from the Slate of Oalifomta to the SUlea of 
New-York, Louisana, ia, through the" Britiali ter- 
ritoTT of San Joan de Nioaragua.* We would 
hardly think it worth white noticing such shallow 




do.ccpti(>n«! in the columns of our Miscellany, were 
they not intended to cover the biise duplicities of 
SirJr. L. ]^)uhv<'r and his abettors, and to produce 
the idea among unsophisticated old wi>nien of 
both pexe=i ^)f wlujin, (Jod wot, we have overmuch) 
tliat the British usurpati»n in Central America is 
a fact really beneficent to all humanity, and spe- 
cially aboundiu[( with comfort," protection," hiippi- 
ness, and divers prospective blessings to American 
citizens. Xothing. it appears, can, iu the judg- 
ment of the.-e newspapers, exceed the p(»liteness 
Tvith -which I^riti>h Sergi^anl Quashee deprives 
American citi/.ens of their arms and locks them 
up for the niL^ht — the urbanity of Britisli Lieuten- 
ant Sambo in rummaging the trunks and biiggage 
of American citizens while actually passing from 
one portion of the North American continent to 
another, and from one State of this Union to an- 
other, is so entrancingly delicious, his ogle is so 
bewitching, and his guffaw and chit-chat to 
*' Massu" j#o exceedingly harmonious and agreeable 
that our " daily organs of opinion" are of opinion 
an American should be delighted to subject his 
traps to tlie supervision, curiosity, and manipula- 
tion of his pohte highness Lieutenant Sambo ! 
Nay, when he comes to rifle your pockets, to poke 
his sweetly -flavored paw into the inner crypts of 
your waistcoat, the interstices of your shirt, and 
even to examine therewith your person, that no 
single pistol, pop-gun, small dagger or corker-pin 
may remain in your possession U) tlie peril of his 
existence and that of Briiish dominion in Grey- 

" Ilid lips 8() like a mufflu 

And hiH walk am so genteel ; 
Iliseyes so like fVied oyster* 
Ou'a Btreuk of ln<ii&n moali" 

that in tlie opinion of the recording newspapers 
the pain, the plunder, the indignity and the out- 
rage you endure are more than counterbalance;! 
by the extravagantly pleasing deportment of the 
colored gentleman. These newspaper editors 
never examine the question of right — the question 
what riffht have Britibh to be there at all, robbing 
you with their black policemen under Sergeant 
Quashee, peems to be utterly lost in the much 
larger question, "IIow pofUeli/ they do it!" Po- 
liteness seems in American nineteenth-century 
ideas to be equal to chai'ity, if not superior to it, 
in "covering a multitude of sins;" and of all po- 
liteness negro politeness! Tliese newspaper edi- 
tors would no doubt regard the knocking down 
of a man in the highway, and the robbery of 
his person by a white man as an astounding 
crime of the most abominable character, and to be 
punished after an exemplary fashion. But if the 
thief be a " gentleman" of ihe swell mob, even a 
nigger gentleman of the swell mob, our editor 
would no doubt beg the gontlenum's pardon fur 
troubling him unnecessarily, hand him his watch 
and pocket-book, make him a low bow, and ex- 
press his deep and lasting indebtedness for the 
polite deportment and pleasing attention of the 
urbane gentleman who had " relieved him." Surely 
Mr. Frederick Douglas should be a very proud 
man-»— negroism has attained a triumph under the 
humane institutions of Great Britain altogether 
unhoped for. We can realize a northern negro 

demagogue coolly persuading recusant white men 
who refuse to give up their watches by exhibit- 
ing exjmiples of Greytown practice, and the hap- 
))inesH ther<? experienced by whites under the 
hands of "colored officers." Nay, we think a tri- 
umphal oration by a negro eloquent, would be 
highly a])propriate and justifiable in onr modeni 
world, showing that the negro race is after all the 
paragon race of humanity, imd that the coming 
man, the second Messiidi, is after all neither a Jew 
nor an Anglo-Saxon ; nay, not even Mr. Quarrel- 
some ChatfieUl, but Lieutenant Sambo, or Ser- 
geant Quashee! May not such a Demostlienic 
negro prove to the conviction of all reasonable 
men, that Sergeant Quashee ha8 attained the 
"perfectibility of human government^" that of 
committing outrage without giving offence, and 
plundering a man without exciting any feelings in 
(lis bosom but those of thankfulness and wor^ip! 
May he not say in his melodious gibberish. The 
British formerly as now attempted to outrage you, 
white Americana, on this continent, but you got 
vexed, fought, and beat the British; but the Brit- 
ish having employed us as police, we rob you day 
after day, take even your arms from you, and 
leave you as tame and harmless as castrated speci- 
mens of the feline species, and you are thauKful, 
and you are happy, and you go your way rejoic- 
ing? What witn nigger politeness there is surely 
no more need of wars — the millennium of 
"peace** under all circumstances has come, and 
Britisli Sergeant Quashee t«, we maintain it, the 
coming man. 

One humanitarian journal in particular, the 
N'eio- York Inbune, seems to gloat with singular 
satisfaction over the fact tliat white Americans 
have now to submit, as well as they can, to negro 
manipulation in "Greytown," and adds that if 
" Greytown" were not in the usurped possession 
of the British, it w»mld be all the same — ^white 
Americans would still bo subjected to negro or 
other outrage. Now Seiigeant Quashee knows 
that " am not de fact," but simply the very oppo- 
site of a fact, or in pohte diction a very great 
falsehood. Sergeant Quashee will inform the ed- 
itor of the TrihuHe that he was expressly im- 
ported from Jamaica to be a Greytown |H)liceman, 
and still further to insult American citizens pass- 
ing through the dcmiinions of his master, and 
excite negro agitation in the United States. Ser- 
geant Quashee will still further inform the editor 
of the Tribnuc that his native country, Jamaica, ia 
entirely ruled by blacks under British auspices— 
that it is the wish and intention of the Knglish Gov- 
ernment to weed the wlute race entirely out of 
Jamaica and rule it by black agencies, black offi- 
cers, armies and police, under an English gover- 
nor or viceroy, not with the hope of getting any- 
thing out of that fertile island, but with the design 
of preventing it from falling into the hands of any 
white inhabitants who would ; and that he, Ser. 
geant Quashee, has been expressly transferred to 
Greytown to establish thercm a smiilar state un- 
der the very same auspicea. Further, the Sergeant 
will fully inform the TrUtHnt tliat if h^ were not 
there, if tho territory of Nicaragua which he ** oc- 
cupies" were in the possession of Nicaragua, no 
outrage whatever would bo offered to American 




dtiieos* but that the greatest friendship and re- 
ipeet would exist and be tihown towards tbi>m — 
Kid Sergvmt Quashee ought ta^'i^u many facts in 

But the most recent instance of ])(>litcner«s af- 
fiorded by Mr. Bull, and tlie urliuuc Sirgiunt 
QuuheOy ia recorded at full Icn^^th in Um ^tic- 
Tork Herald of 24th January. Tluit our readers 
my nndcntand tliis last dodge of Mr. Ituhver's, 
ve hdft to explain, that the territory about tlie 
port or S«n Juan is uncultivated and for the most 
jMUt faannen— its present possessors being in hos- 
tility to the iiatires of Nicaragua, permitting them 
coly to approach on submitting to the grossest out- 
nges, are compelled to depend for food on a wry 
fanited native supply, with such iiii}x>rtsin British 
hutnmi as they can obtain ; the tax on American 
dnpf and cargoes, and the negro police inspection, 
havxiv prevented, almost altogetlicr, American 
dupa uden with produce from entering tluit ])ort 
Haee the ** remission of the tax," to get more food, 
ind the other fiu;t that food is so scarce ^ith Mr. 
Cbatfield and his negrxi police, that should any ex- 
tiiflffdinary advent of American^? to " Greytown ' 
take place, the latter, after a few days, would Imvc 
to eat the present black and white possessors, or 
all most Btarve. The fear of being masticated by 
fntlemcn from the gold region bound homeward, 
vliD in the matters of cooking and gastronomy arc 
■id not to be over particular, may have probably 
been one reascHi why Mr. Chatfield and liis sable 
ot e llit o a established the " law," forbi<1diiig the 
eotnmoe of such vagrants unless imarmed. 13ut it 
hu led to another singular instance of British ur- 
huuty. ^ot content with depriving American 
dtizens of their arms, the British have furthor 
"handsomely" — yes, handsomch/ — voluutoered to 
transport all Americans out of 'Mireytown," to 
Chagrea, to Brazil even, nay to Ca])e Horn, or the 
Deril, anywhere, where they caimot eat Mr. Chat- 
fiekfs dinner or that of his negro police. But here 
is the extract from the Ilerafd: — 

** HazTDSOME Conduct of Exclishmkn at San 
JuAX OE NiCASAOUA. — Thrcc hundred and suventy- 
■even American passengers, from San Juan, were 
taken to Cliagrea on tlie twentieth of December 
laath by Her Britannic Majesty s steamer Inilexible, 
commanded by Captain Dyke. These ]>a!>scngers 
have paased resolutions, in which they tender their 
tfaanka to Captain Dyke, to Her ^laje-rty s Consul, 
llr. Oreen, and to Post-Captain Foote, for their 
kindnessi and for the generous manner in which 
they were taken to Chagres, on their way to the 
United Statea Provisions were bhort at San Juun, 
ao^ till the Inflexible rendered tliis assi;:tuncc, 
peat aufiering seemed inevitable. Tliey were all 
TCfy handsomely treated on board the Inflexible, 
and the conduct of the officers generally excited 
the respect and admiration of our countrymen. 
Tliia act was certainly a very remarkable one ; and 
is the more praiseworthy as many of the pusficn- 
gen were prostrated by severe sickness." 

Really these American gentlemen should be 
very moud of themselves and devoutly thankful— 
the philanthropic hospitality and exquisite })olite- 
ness of sending your visitors away, they should 
cat your dinner, exceeds the charity and self tacii- 
flce of any but an Englishman ; ** and is the more 

praiseworthy as many of the pai^sengers were 
prostrated by severe sickness." Sueh i.s the gospel 
of tlie new Samaritan,— Do not give up your (Unner, 
jx)ur no oil into tlus wounds of the alflicte<l ; j-end 
tliem off— away with th"ni, to Chagres, to the ilovil, 
but, Quujdiee, see you do it politt It/. In future we 
sh<»uld, in accordance with ti.e above precetlent of 
politene>s, send out our cards of invitation as fol- 
lows: "Mr. and Mrs. Bull's compliments to Mr. 

and family, and request they will 

do Mr. mid Mrs. B. the favor of tiking themselves 
off, as there is not enough in the hoiu^e for ilr. and 
Mrs. B.'s own dinner;" and notes of acceptance 
should be returned as follows : '* ^Ir. So-and-so, a 
very humble American, bogs to return his thanks 
to Sir. and Mrs. Bull for not getting leave to share 
their dinner." "Well, we are a great people — 
"politeness is che.ip." 

It ia almoft as great folly to dwell on such pro 
ccedings as it is viciously deceptive to record them 
after the manner of the Tribune and the JItrald. 
But lot us put to all concerned one or two questions 
— 1st. If the British had nothing to do with " (Jrey- 
town," if they were tranejwrted out of that, with 
their police and tax, wouhl not food flow into the 
port of San Juan fr(»ni Nicaragua, and from the 
United States suilu'lent to fill to roph-ticn all the 
Americans who could congregate there in acentury? 
And secondly, if a British oflicial and an American 
meet together on Ainericnn soil, and the British 
official s:iys, "My g.)M(l fellow, there is not fi)od 
enough for us both here, but there is my boat and 
you can go and look for it el?cwhert!"--should the 
American bow thnnkfully and go — or answer, " My 
very bad fellow, I won't g(», fur this is my soil and 
not yours, an<I if that bo your boat, go ; for if you 

don't" but we f'Tg^t, this is the age of 

" peac(; !" 

P. S. — Since writlni^ the alxve the following 
has apprared in the X'-i^-York Smt. Tiio nation 
(»f charging a man ?iri for ;/o/givuig hirn his tliu- 
ner, appears to u" only 1« ■*> fuuny tlian the nioie 
ridiculous notion of pnyirig it : — " 

" Cn'dit has ln-cn claimed for the I'^.ngli-h Con- 
sul at San Juan, bocan-e he sent a steainorto con- 
voy a number of returning Californiaiis fr(»ni San 
Juan to Chagres. "We were previou-^ly informed 
that the Consul anticijiated tmuble from the larj^o 
party, who at fi^^t refused to dolivor uj) their 
arms to the Kii^'li-h p.ilieo, an.l tliercfnre wisely 
t(M>k the readit.-t nn-ans to riJ hirnst^lf of his fears 
by shipping,' tht in to Clia;,^rep. "NVe now leani 
from the J'tninnm Sf,ir, that each individual was 
charged fjh>n ih.lhirs f<.r hi-; pas-age, which, 
for the -l-^O j>i.rsons hurried off from San Juan, 
amounts to the niee sum of 87.-i)0 I This is tlie 
liberality boasted of. The distance from San Juan 
is about 1 GO miles." 

Tm: Latkst Nkws from Kiropk is without 
interest, save that the King of l*rus.-ia and the 
Emperor of Austria have agreed, in obedience to 
the Convincing reasons of the Tzar, to invade 
Schleswig-Holstein, for the purj^ose of restoring 
peace by butchering the. citizt ns of the Duchies, 
and annihilating tluir oMest political rights. — 

*• (lod Havp the kinjr. or kin^.i; 
Fur if he Uou't, 1 duubt il' men will longvr." 


Critical Notices, 


Mr. Miles, author of Mohammed, recently de- 
livered a lecture in this city called, " On the Crisis 
and tlie Struggle." Not knowing what Crisis or 
what Struggle, (both families being large,) we had 
recourse to tlie New- York Tribune, which gave us 
the following luminous and singularly generous 
explanation : — 

" Mr. M. referred to the genius exiled by the disturbanoeft 
In Europe. Thousands of feverish idealists are out of em- 
ployment, and an a.<iylum for them is quite as incumbent 
on society as poor-houses upon Legislatures. They are a 
body to be dreaded. Denied their legitimate avocations, 
and averse to uncongenial pursuits, they emerge from the 
Crisis (if thi'y survive it) desperate demagogues, or worse, 
and take revenge on the world by destroying themselves 
and others. Shorn of their hair, and apparently helpless, 
wo cannot tell how soon the locks of hair may sprout in 
their prison, and when called to assist at the feast, they 
may uproot the columns of the edifice, and bring down 
ruin upon the guests. Perhaps the only home they ever 
had, or ever will have, was in the Monasteries of the 
Middle Ages." 

Generosity, Mr. Miles, should induce you to 
ask whether such language is dignified or becom- 
ing before you used it To say the least of it, 
such of tliese men as come to our shores should 
not therefore be treated as madmen. We 
never knew^ before it was a sign of madness in the 
distressed to take refuge under the American flag. 
Truth, also, has something to do with the matter; 

and turning over the pages of American history you 
should inquirewhetheror not, Mr. Miles, "genius ex- 
iled by disturbances in Europe " has evei* " emerged " 
in this country **in desperate demagogism, or 
worse, taking revenge on the world by destroying 
themselves and others;" or whether, on the whole, 
from Lee, and Montgomery, and Kosciusko, down 
to the last emigrant laborer set to work on 
our railroads, they have not turned out very ex- 
cellent and discreet citizens, fighting battles, tun- 
nelling mountains, building viaducts, that ** fevered 
idealists" might more freely and easily approach a 
great city, and abuse them. Besides, it would be 
time enough to offer them " asylums " when they 
ask them. But as to "shaving their hair," fnd 
jailing them up in "modem monasteries of the 
middle ages, or model prisons," we would not 
recommend Mr. Miles to try the experiment lest 
he should discover, as the Mayor oi Bradford re- 
marked to Queen Elizabeth with reference to the 
recent attempt of the King of Spain's armada, 
that he too " liad the wrong sow by the lug." 

The New Postage Bill. — A bill has passed 
the House establishing a uniform rate of postage 
of three cents, on all pre-paid letters, with other 


The Country Year Book : or, The Field, the For- 
est, and the Fireside. By "Wiluam Howitt. 
New- York : Harper & Brothers. 

Mr. Howitt knows how to make a book, and 
this is certainly one of the most readable. It is in 
fact delightful reading for the winter fireside, or 
the summer hill side. There are some interspersed 
reflections of no small moment, one of which we 
will give as a fair specimen of the book, calling 
the reader's attention to its bearing upon one of 
our favorite politico-economical topics. And that 
we may do no injustice to the author's patriotic 
feelings for his " rlearold England," we must make 
it rather long, so as to embrace his statement of 
the ameliorating influences at work, only leaving 
it to the reader's reflection to consider whether 
individual exertion can ever be sufficient to coun- 
teract the effects of a vicious sy-tem, the evils of 
which appear so widely extended and deeply 
seated : — 

" Wliat a country this used to be for jollity and 
heart's ea«e ! What a change there must have 
been ! We see the ruins of old castles and old 
abbeys standing, and we think them beautiful. 
And we read of old fasts and festivals, and days 
on which the people of Enjijland came out into the 
sun, and the heart of gladness and kindly good 
fellowship was as one great dancing heart through- 
out the throng. We recall those doings, and think 
them beautiful. Are tliey not picturesque ruins, 
too, like the castles and abbeys t Is not one 

thing gone just as much as the other ? What we 
would recall is a thing that belonged to the days 
of these castles and abbeys, and not to ours. It 
is a thing that belonged to our ancestors, and not 
to us. If we could recall it, it would be like call- 
ing back the ghost of one of our ancestors. Not the 
joUy ancestor himself, in all his bodily presence, 
his soul-and-body imion, the daylight man in his 
earthly solidity, but his ghost—a phantom 1 a 
thing to startle and confound us. It is not the 
kind of mirth that our forefathers had that we 
would bring back again. We might as well bring 
back their suits of armor, their old windy rooms, 
their jack boots, and farthmgales. No ! it is a 
mirth and holiday pleasure of our own, that we 
must have. It is an enjoyment of our own — not 
an echo and a spectre of theirs — that we want 
And why should we not find it? Our ancestors 
found what suited them in this country — why can 
we not find what suits us ? And yet England was 
not a tenth part so wealthy or powerful then as 

* Has wealth done this ? Then wealth's a foe to me.* 


" Restore holidays, says my worthy friend. True, 
but first we must restore that which made the 
holiday spirit of old— ease, sufficiency, and con- 

" Where are these things gone ? What has be- 
come of this ease, this sufficiency, this content t 


Oritical Notices, 


Tbey are not among the nobility— they complain 
of tne times. They are not among the farmors— 
ti^y complain of heaTV burdeua and low pncc». 
Tliey are not among the laborers —they complain 
of lov wages. They are not in tho Bhop, the 
mill, or the fibctory; every place and class has its 
habby-jock. It is an odd circumstance, and wortli 
Bomully inqmring into, that just as a nation grew 
tkh it grew melancholy ; that the mass of peo- 
ple who bad accumulated those riches grew i>uor, 
tost tlieir joyousness, tlieir time and taste for recre- 
atkn, and became the common drudges of the 
dall treadmill of poverty and labor. This was 
not always eo. As we have seen, our ancestors^ 
had then: high days and holidays; never was 
there a merrier rac«. England was merry Eng- 
land then. The people of the continent are a 
merry people now — merry with a fifih part of our 

** SlKnild this be so f Should the greatest, the most 
industrioaa people on the face of the earth ; the 
people who have wrought the greatest miracles of 
energy and ingenuity that this world has seen, be 
the only people who do not enjoy the fruit of their 
achieveraentis and rejoice in the good things they 
have created 9 Yet let any one say what is his 
first impression on landing in England after some 
•qjonro abroad 9 That every one is pondering on 
•ome tremendous event. There is a stern, eager 
ezpressioo oa every face; a hurrying on as to 
•ome intense object ; a print of care on feature 
ind on limb, on the individual and the mass, which 
are most startling to the mind which has been so 
lately filled with the gay imagery of happy peas- 
antry and citizens of the working class, amidst 
Uidr holiday music and their social dances. 

" In 1842 I was reading the English newspapers 
in the public news-room at Heidelberg, in Ger- 
many. What was the great topic of the day ? 
Hie horrors just brought to light by the Parliamen- 
tary inquiry into the state of the people, and es- 
peaally of women and children in the coal-mines, 
and factories, and workshops of England. I was 
actoally sick. I walked out into the air. It was 
bright noon — ^the bright, clear, joyous noon of the 
south of Germany ; and at this moment, out burst 
from the public scliools of the working cl;isse<«, 
hundreds of little boys and girls, released to their 
twelve o'clock dinners, and all henlthy, happy, 
merry, and shouting, as if they had five times too 
much pleasure in them for their need. 

•• But what a contra5»t ! Proud England— rich 
Erigland — ^mighty and free England, grinding its 
diiUIreo to death in mines and mills, in subterra- 
nean darkness and nakedness ; and p(Kjr, despotic 
Germany guarding its children till their twelfth 
Tear, and giWnv tl^m all an education ! And this 
bad gone on Tor years ; the child-murder of the 
mill and the mine had gone on, and men had 
gradually accustomed themselves to it, till they 
did not see its enormity. Lil)erals and philanthro- 
puts applauded it, and called it free trade. Gra- 
cious Heaven I free trade in the sinews and lives 
of tender children of eight years old! Little 
children pitched against the Juggernaut of steam ; 
and thoee who denounced this immolation to the 
trading llammoo, were sneered at for the cant of 
humanity by the most hideous of all cants, the 

cant of cniclty ! Free trade, forsooth, in the lives 
and happiness of children ! 'Twas a vile abuse of 
tenns. Trade is trade only when it deals in legit- 
imate articles ; beyond tliat it is far too free — it is 
tlien free outrage. 

" But the British humanity stepped in and res- 
cued the victnns of our trading cupidity. In country 
as well as in town the great and influential are 
awaking to the fact that the working man must bo 
better remunerated. We need not, therefore, go 
further into the explanation of the repulsive mys- 
tery of the greatest people on earth piling upon 
their heads by their unexampled energies only toil 
never ending, and reoompensc never beginning. 
Tliat is now well enough understood. It is be- 
cause labor has been defrauded of its due. 

" The j)ublic has now discovered what the amia- 
ble poet Bloomtield discovered long aga He found 

*■ Tho nspoct still of nnciont Joy put on, 
TIio utfpect uiily, willi Ihu subsuuico gone.' 

And he cried : 

* liCt labor lmv« its duo ! my cot shall bo 
Fn)m chiHintj: want, and guilty murmurs froo. 
JiOt labor have its duo ! thon poaco in mine, 
And nuvcr. nuver Hhall my hearl rtplm\' 

" Tliat is the true secret of restoring to England 
its fine old character of merry England. Let la- 
bor have its due, and joy will spring up thick as 
the flowers of tlie lield. We shall again see the 
rural dance and hear the sound of runil music. 
Make the heart glad and the song will burst forth 
from the moutks of young men and maidens. 
Let labor have its due ; let a good supply of bread 
and beef, and tea and coffee, lind its way into the 
poor m.-ins pantry, as the just reward of his exer- 
tions, and there will be merry times again in Eng- 
land. Ay, mver was there such a merry England 
as there will be then. Never had England in her 
holiday times a tenth part of the people, the 
knowledge, the power, tlu; cnpacitv of enjoyment, 
that they have now. And these tmies shall come. 
They are not fur olF. Great changes have taken 
place and are tiiking place. The public mind of 
ICngland has satii^fied itself that a hetter state of 
things is necessary — that the people who have 
made Eii'dand, be thev of what class they will, 
must enjoy Kngland. The peoph; have now read 
and thou'^ht, and above all, they have sulFered, 
and out of that suffering they have derived a deep 
wisdom ; they have learnt to know their own 
rights and the rights of others. They will now 
combine not to attack but to assert ; not to tread 
on the y;riviieg<'s of others, but to claim iheir own. 
They will combine to dig new channels for the 
current of public wealth, to make a due portion of 
it to flow into the track of labor; and not only so, 
but to make labor itself flow into the true chan- 
nel. They will spread themselves over the field 
of labor, as the general good re<piire3 it. 

"Already the crowd who have tmdilen on each 
other's heels have; discovered that steum and sci- 
ence, commerce and liteniture have made three 
fourths of the globe but an expanded Kngland. 
In England or Ireland, in America or Australia, 
wherever the British tongue is spoken, and British 


Critical Notices, 

Feb^ 1851. 

blood flow3 in the people's vein?, there they arc 
etill of the groat Eiigliriili family — can enjoy Eng- 
lish thou;^lit>», foclin^?*, and privileges and can ele- 
vate and combine tlie true interestfl of the Eng- 
lish race. Therefore emigration is leading its quar- 
ter of a million now annually into the more distant 
fields of the British empire, an empire ex^ended 
beyond the nominal shadow of the British Crown. 
In new home?, but all made such by Anpjlo-Saxon 
enterprise, amid new mountains, and on the green 
banks of new and majestic rivers, these annual 
detachments of the great army of civih'zation are 
sitting down to create at once domestic plenty for 
themselves, and fresh sources of industry and 
wealtli for the brave old mother country. 

" As our population thus diffuses itself on all 
sides into the fields and forests of God's plenty, 
and at the active centre better principles of social 
economy are recognized, as they are every day 
becoming recognized — then for holidays. 

" But when the people do find leisure and hearts 
for holidays, they will be such holidays as the 
world never yet saw. "SVe are no longer the 
same people as our ancestors were. They were 
great cliildren, and could leap and laugh, and play 
with hobby-horses ; but we have read and thought, 
and the poorest artisan has now more refined taste 
and intellectual wealth than a king had of old. 
In the words of one of them ; 

* Ay, they are thinking — at the frame and loom, 
At bench, and forge, and in the bowelled mine.' 

" Then, our holidays must be holidays of a high- 
er stamp. There mu-^t be music, and dance, and 
sport, for youth and glad hearts ; but there must 
be more--there must be a mixture of the intellec- 
tual in our pleasures. We must have books, and 
talk of matters of mind, and sights of works of 
art as W(!ll as of the works of nature, to give to 
our holidays a charm which, though it will be fit 
for a i)hil()sopher, shall thrill through the soul of 
the working man like the first rapturous outburst 
of his marriage bells. We must have a prepara- 
tion for the holidays that are coming. We must 
have those public walks and gardens that are 
talked of for our large towns. We must have 
that £10,000 that is lying in the treasury, voted 
by Parliament years ago for that very purpose 
called for by public-spirited men of our towns, and 
thus employed. We mu^t have in each of these 
gardens a public building — the people's house of 
recreation. They r>hall find a dancing-hall, a cof- 
fee-room, a reading-room, and a conversation- 
room. The people in every large town of Oer- 
mauy have such a house — their llarmonie — where 
they come together to enjoy themselves, and do 
enjoy themselves in a manner that a prince or a 
princess might l)e proud to share in. 

" And thon, for the enjoyment of all these de- 
lightful ])lea-^ures, in which not only phynical 
health and exiutement, but intellectual tastes 
unite, for which the people are daily preparing 
themselves, what a world has science opened! 
Think of tlu» steam-boat and steam-train, ready 
to bear away their thousands to the very scenes 
where they would wish to be. To carry the pco- 1 

pie of the cities, especially of enormous Lon- 
don afar into the country ; to tlie open heath — 
the fresh forest — to the sea-side — ^to old halls and 
gardens where the mysterious spirit of beauty haa 
been waiting their arrival for a thousand years. 
To carry the country people, on the contrary, to 
the towns — to the sight of the cheerful, happy 
crowds, lich shops, noble buildings, and gallenes 
of painting and statuary; to zoological gardens 
and scientific spectacles, full, to them, of the en- 
chantment of wonder. 

*' Do we talk of impossible things ? The cheap 
trains already make such things within the reaen 
of every man, woman and child, that con get but 
A single day, and a few shillings to spend on it, in 
the year. On one day last Bummcr, seven thou- 
sand people visited, by means of an ezcursioo 
train, the splendid house and grounds of the Duke 
of Df^vonshire at Chatsworth, in the Peak of Der 
byshire ; and every day there, and at the old hall 
of Haddon, and at numbers of noble halU aU 
over the country throughout the summer, the com- 
ing and going of the people is like the visiting 
of a fair. 

** Better times are coming, when these thinga 
shall be still more within the reach of every one 
of our fellow-oountrymeo ; for they are not oclf 
awaking to a knowledge and a taste for these things, 
but they are laying up fruits for their own purpo- 
ses. The alarm that some time ago was relt od 
the subject of popular education, lest knowledge 
should spoil good servants, and destroy w 
spirit of industry in the laboring masses, luis re- 
ceived an amazing answer. While the people 
were ignorant they continued in destitution. Wnat 
they gained they spent in a drunkenness that has 
now nothing like it in existence. But while they 
have been acquiring knowledge they have also 
acquired a great capital, and have actually laid up 
in savings banks upwards of £80,000,000 of 
money I 

" This is a social phenomenon such as all the 
ages of the world betore have not produced. That 
is the effect of the industrial and economical stim- 
ulus of knowledge on the people. That has come, 
and the holiday times will come. And still fur- 
ther, the spirit of improvement has been met by 
a fitting spirit in high quarters. Our excellent 
Queen has thrown open Windsor, the most royal 
of all royal palaces m the world, to the free and 
unpaid entry of all her loving subjects. The 
royal example, as we have seen, has been emula- 
ted by the nobility, who have thrown open their 
{)arks, their gardens, and their fine old picture gal- 
eries, like their royal mistress, to the feet and the 
eyes of those who have so long fouglit, worked 
and suffered for the maintenance of the stately 
glory of those things. 

" These are groat forebodings of the future holi- 
days of a great and educated people ; and this 
lovely isle of ours, with its rivers and mountains, 
its sweet fields and villages, its cities and ancestral 
halls, its palaces and its monumental churches, 
sliall open up the world of its delights to a people 
worthy of beholding them, and by tlmt very com- 
municativeness of its beauty shall sink deeper and 
deeper into the heart of their love.*' 

I ■ 



". - -* f 



William H, Crawford, 


tlie oonfidenee and favor of Dr. Waddell, 
and was promoted to the situation of usher, 
reoeiTing, as his compensation, one third of 
the tuition money. We have heard it told 
of him, that while at this academy, in the 
double capacity of tutor and pupil, it was 
^termined by himself, and some few of the 
elder 8chool-bo3rs, to enliven their annual 
nablic examination by representing a play. 
They selected Addison's Cato ; and in form- 
mg the cast of characters, that of the Roman 
Senator was, of course, assigned to the worthy 
usher. Crawford was a man of extraordinary 
height and large limbs, and was always un- 
graceful and awkward, besides being constitu- 
tkmally unfitted, every way, to act any char- 
acter but his own. He however cheerfully 
eonsented to play Cato. It was matter of 
great sport, even during rehearsal, as his 
young companions beheld the huge, un- 
gunly usher, with giant strides and Stento- 
rian voice, go through with the representa- 
tion of the stern, precise old Roman. But 
on the night of the grand exhibition, an in- 
cident, eminently characteristic of the coun- 
terfeit Cato, occurred, which effectually broke 
ap the denouement of the tragedy. Craw- 
ford had conducted the senate scene with 
tolerable success, thousjh rather boiaterouslv 
for so solemn an occasion, and had even 
I managed to stnigglc through with the apos- 
trophe to the soul ; but when the dying 
Fcene behind the curtain came to be acted, 
Cato's groan of agony wjis l)el!owed out with 
such hearty good earnest as totally to scare 
away the tragic muse, and set prompter, 
players, and audience in a general, unre- 
strained fit of laughter. This was, wo be- 
Beve, the future statesman's first and last 
theatrical attempt 

In the fall of 1706, leaving his situation 
in the Carmel Academy, he bent his way to 
the then young city of Augusta, and became 
principal in one of the largest schools. It 
was here that floating dreams of jjrofessional 
eminence first pa««ed through his mind ; 
suggesting, at the same timo, more enlarged 
plaus of accumulation. He accordingly sot 
himself to studying the law, and jjui'sucd 
h^ ta^k with an assiduousness and diliirencc 
that knew no abatement, and that auguiod 
a speedy and sacc^*ssful accomplishment. 
He was admitted to the practice in 1708 ; 
and the vear foilowinjc, with a view to st'ck 
a suitable theatre of pursuit, he removed into 
the Cfjunty of Oglethor|)e, and oix»ned an 

office in the little village of Lexington, its 
county seat. ** Such were his perseverance, 
industry, and talents," says Mr. Dudley, **that 
he soon attracte<i the notice of that distin- 
guished statesman and profound jurist, Peter 
Early, then at the head of his profession in 
the Up Country, and to whom he became 
ardently and sincerely attached. His great 
professional zeal, that always made his client's 
cau!«e his own, his unremitted attention to 
biLsiness, his punctuality and promptness in 
its dispatch, his undisguised frankness and 
official sincerity — disdaining the little arti- 
fices and over-i*eaching craft of the profes- 
sion — combined with a dignity which, spring- 
ing from self-respect alone, was entirely un- 
mingled with aftectation; his lionesty and 
irreproachable moral character, accompanied 
with maimers the most plain, simple and ac- 
cessible, secured for him a public and private 
reputiUion seldom equalled, and never sur- 
pjissed in any country." This gra])hic ac- 
count, tallying with the whole character of 
the distinguished subject, is not at all exag- 
geration, but is testified to by the speedy 
advancement of Crawford, — who, indeed, 
after Mr. Early's entrance into Congress 
during 1802, might fiiirly be said to stand 
at the head of the bar of the Western Cir- 

These arduous professional duties and this 
severe mental discipline were not without 
early and abundant fruits. The greatness 
and overshadowing lustre of his expanding 
mind began soon to difiuse an influence else- 
whore tlian in the court-room. The dull 
]>recincts of the bar, cramped jury boxes, 
stale law arguments, and the hai-sh routine 
of office business, abundant though it was, 
were insufficient to aflbrd that f-eope which 
might satisfy the intt'l!ectu>il energies of such 
a pei*son. The excitement of tlic politicid 
arena tempted him to the trial for larger 
honors ; and in the fall of 1 800 he was called 
by the ]ieoj»le of his county to represent 
them in the Legislature of (jvorgitx. In tliis 
station a new field of ambition was suddenly 
opeuv'^d to the grasping intellect of Craw- 
ford; and ])lunging as he did forthwith into 
the absorbing vortex of pohtics, we lose sight 
of him Jis a professional man for many long 
and eventful years — yeai-s of triumph and of 
trial, of ]>ride and of affliction. 

At this period b'^gan also a new and ma'^t 
memoral)le ei)(>eh in the j)olitical history of 
Georgia, which, dating from Crawford's 


Review of the Life and Times of 


entrance into the Legislature, controlled her 
destiny for well nigh thirty years, and con- 
tinues its influence, though in a greatly modi- 
fied degree, to the present time. Indeed, it 
is a strikiuo: and most remarkable fact that 
the grapple of great minds, stimulated by 
malignant and inveterate rivalry, never fiuLs, 
even in the mild contests of civil Hfe, com- 
paratively speaking, to imprint lasting and 
influential traces on the age which witnesses 
the struggle. This is eminently the case in 
political circles, from which, for the first time, 
arc to be drawn the bitter elements of party. 
And so it was, as we have already intimated, 
in ^he present instance. At one of the ses- 
sions of the Legislature, during the time of 
Crawford's service in that body, it so hap- 
pened that a member introduced a series of 
resolutions which looked to the impeachment 
of a leading judicial incumbent of one of the 
Georgia circuits. The individual thus as- 
saulted had been long a prized friend and 
confidential associate of Crawford. He had 
been also an active and industrious opponent 
of another pei-sonage who was then becom- 
ing rapidly conspicuous in the political world, 
and whose prominent position had already 
enlisted the sympathy of such as were pla- 
cing themselves in opposition to our distin- 
guished subject. This was General John 
Clarke. Clarke, finding on the present oc- 
casion an opportunity to vent his intolerance 
and vindictiveness, supported the resolutions 
with ardor and unabating zeal. On the 
other haoid, Crawford opposed them with the 
energy of fast friendship, and with a violence 
tliat betokened at once the depth of per- 
sonal feeling, and the indignant contempt in 
which he held those who were urging their 
adoption. As might have been expected, 
this tierce collision of master minds soon di- 
verted attention and interest from the true 
issue, and all eyes fastened eagerly on the 
hostile champions. Parties and factions were 
formed, and tlie limits of social intercourse were 
jealously confined to those of factional sym- 
pathy. The soirees of the fashionable world 
were governed by like envenomed rules. 
Innkeepers, and publicans of all descriptions, 
imbibing the excitement, eschewed indis- 
criminate gatherings, and advertised their 
cheer as being intended only for those who 
espoused the cause, respectively, of Clai'ke 
or of Crawford. The contagion spread 
through all castes and classes of society ; it^ 
in fact, found way even to the bosom of 

hitherto harmonious and exclusive reUgious 
fraternities. Nor was it a strife alone of 
words. Forensic weapons- were soon laid 
aside, and the rival champions, urged on by 
implacable and impulsive factionists, resort- 
ed to weapons of a deadUer character. A 
challenge to mortal combat passed, and was 
accepted. The terms were soon arranged, 
the parties met, and a fight with pistols, 
at the usual distance, ensued. Crawford, 
though brave and fearless to a degree 
scarcely compatible with his polished ami- 
ability and amenity of disposition, was 
naturally awkward, nervous, and every 
way unqualified for a genuine duellist. 
Clarke was, on the contrary, a practised 
fighter, and highly skilled in the use of 
weapons, while, at the same time, of equally 
unquestionable courage. The result might 
have been anticipated. Heedless of all pre- 
cautionary monitions and instructions from 
his friends who accompanied him to the field 
as seconds, Crawford took his position at the 
peg with the same carelessness as he was 
wont to swagger to his seat at the bar of a 
county court, exposing his left arm in a 
manner to catch the ball of even the rawest 
duellist Consequently, when fires were ex- 
changed, Clarke was found to be entirely 
untouched, while his unerring ball had taken 
effect in the wrist of his antagonist, horribly 
crushing the bones, and producing the most 
exquisite pain. 

This shot, of course, terminated the fight ; 
and Crawford was removed from the field to 
linger for months in expiatory anguish. But 
so far from appeasing factional differences, 
the fight only served to add fuel to the flame. 
The news of the duel, and of its unpleasing 
result, spread rapidly through all portions of 
the State, stirring up new and fiercer elements 
of strife, and confirming and strengthening 
all previous animosities. Hill and vale, 
mountain and plain, echoed to the war- 
whoop of arousing factions, and rang with 
the angry notes of a gathering that might 
have startled " Clan- Alpine's warriors." Men 
waited not to hear or to ar^e the causes 
and grounds which divided tneir respective 
champions, but each side mustered to the 
banner of its favorite, and formed in line for 
a long, bitter, and distracting conflict The 
names of the rivals were assumed as the 
watchwords of the two parties, and for many 
years afterwards every election, from that of 
beat constable or miliUa captain to that of 


William J7. Crawford. 


GongreKnum or Governor, was decided, not | 
with regard to principle or qualification, but 
l^ a trial of strength between the friends of 
Crawford and the friends of Clarke. Even 
after Crawford had been transferred from the 
eouncnls of the State to those of the Nation, 
the flame of dissension was kept alive with 
▼estal-iike fidelity and tenacity ; for there 
aroee up in his place a successor who, from 
the fint, asserted a full right to the fiery 
inheritance by his high-handedness and par- 
ty bigotry, and who^ name, when uttered 
even at this day, stirs up within the bosom 
of the old Geoi^an a wild association of an- 
dent party jealousies and of long-gone per- 
sonal predilections. Indeed, the election 
straggles of the Clarkites and the Troupites 
have been too recently absorbed by those of 
Whig and Democrat, to have jiassed from 
the recollection of even the youngest of the 
present generation of voters. 

This ferocious contest, even after one side 
had changed its original buttle-cry, lasted 
ooDtinnonsly and with ever-increasing malig- 
nancy for twenty years. At the great State 
elections of 1825, victory, no longer uncer- 
tain and wavering, perched finally on the stan- 
dard of the Troup party. A pitched battle, 
decisive in its results as that of Pharsalia, 
had been fought by mutual consent Every 
kg had been rolled — every stone had been 
torned. Obscure, unfrequented county comers 
bad been diligently scoured to swell the voting 
hordes. The sinks of cities had been ran- 
neked. Cross-road and village drunkards, 
who had slept for months in ditches or in 
gotten, and whose sober moments had been 
la few and far between as angel visits, were 
assidaoasly excavated and haul. >d to the polls. 
The prison doors were flung oixri to jiining 
and hapless debtors, who, but fur this fierce 
war of parties, might have languished away 
the prime of their lives within the gloomy 
walls of a dungeon. Old men who had been 
bed-ridden for years, and who had long since 
shaken adieux with tlie ballot-box, were in- 
dnstriously hunted up, and conveyed by faith- 
fal and tender hands to the nearest precinct. 
Patients shivering with ague or burning with 
fever, struggled with pain long enough to 
east their votes; and it is within the recol- 
lection of many now living, that drooping 
paralytics, unable to move from the carts or 
dearborns which had borne tlK'm from their 
eonchea, were served with the box at the 
couitrhonae steps, by zealous and accommo- 

dating officers. Nothing, in fact, had been 
left undone which might contribute to bring 
the struggle to a decisive and unquestioned 
issue. Accordinfflv, when the dav arrived, 
each party, marshalled by its favorite chief- 
tain, was ready for action ; and amidst drink- 
ing, cavillings, partisan harangues, quarrels, 
and ring fight**, the polls were opened. Every 
minute of time wjus wranglingly c<.»ntended 
for in favor of lagging voters — eveiy suspi- 
cion was made the. pretext for a challenge. 
But the scrolls soon showed on which side 
the tides of victory were rolling. The con- 
test resulted in a complete triumjih of the 
Crawford or Troup party, while the Clark- 
ites, chagrined and crest-fallen, acknowledged 
for the first time that they had been fairly 

When the issue of this memorable elec- 
tion had been fully ascertained, and dissemi- 
nated through the State, all Georgia became 
a scene of rejoicing ami revelry. Magna- 
nimity was forgotten in the maddening mirth 
of triumph at the defeat of a long d(\spi8ed 
foe. The ordinary greetings of civil life 
were ungenerously exchangod for taunts or 
exultint blusterings when in the presence of 
a vanquished adversary. Little children ran 
about singing and shouting from tlie very 
contagion of gladness. Women threw aside 
the needle and the shuttle to j)repare for the 
dance and the feast. The men gave up busi- 
ness for merry making ; and many who had 
been long famed for their severe morality 
and ghostly manner of lite, were surprised 
in the joyous melee, and were seen reeling 
about and wirousing with their less austere 
noighbora. The day was enlivened by hila- 
rious and gratulatory gatherings, and the 
night matle b'^autiful and merry by gorgeous 
illuminations and garish fi'stivities. 

Such is, briefly and iinjwirfectly, the origin 
and partial histx>ry of those local factional 
issues which so lon-r distractod the State of 
(leonjjia, durinj; the stirrinj; times of Craw- 
ford's political life. During the period of 
their baneful ascendency, s<K'iety was awfully 
afllicte<l. Friendshijw were often rudely 
severed, families divided, and whole neigh- 
borhoods broken up and made hostile by 
the deplorable influences of this partisan 
rancor. In fact, the Presidential election 
of 1840 w;is the first contest sineo 1806 
which possessi*«l sutfieient strength, as re- 
garded other issues, to overcome this an- 
cient embodiment of party warfare ; and it 


Remew of the Life and T'hnes of 


13 remarkable that, even at this day, the 
Democratic and Whiir parties of Georgia 
are composed, in the ninin, of Uk-sc old fac- 
tions — the Clarkit'^s Ix'ing mostly of the 
former, and the Troupites of tli<^ latter 

At the session of 1807 the Legislature of 
Georgia had elected Crawford a Senator of 
the United States, to fill the vacancy occa- 
sioned hy the death of Abraham Baldwin, a 
signer of the Declaration of Independence 
and of the Federal Constitution. This flat- 
tering mark of distinguished merit, thus 
early conferred on one so recently an hum- 
ble and unaspiring pedagogue, evidences, in 
a striking manner, the brilliant dawn of 
tlioric splendid talents which, while yet in 
the meridian of life, soon lifted him to the 
highest honors of public office, and gave him 
in the political world an influence that has 
survived his death. When it is stated, 
however, that these superior mental endow- 
ments were aided by a rare boldness and 
independence of character and of opinion, it 
will not be difficult to account for this rapid 

The {Political sentiments of Crawford were 
de(;idediy liberal, and, in some respects, 
diff(^rcd widely from those which have been 
j)romul«r(>d and advocated as the peculiar 
tenets of the JefFei-son school. He marked 
out his own course, and pursued his own 
conclusions, little regardful of those party 
trammels which have generally obtained a 
controlling influence with prominent national 
])olitician3. Accordingly, at an early period 
after his entrance into the Senate of the 
United States, he joined issue with William 
1^. Giles, of Virginia, the veteran debater of 
that august body, and the acknowledged 
spokesman of the Jefferaon Administration. 
^J'he contest was on the Embargo question ; 
Giles earnestly advocating its policy, while 
Crawford opposed it as a measure fraught 
with mischief and distress, and a useless and 
unwise preliminary to a war already vir- 
tually begun, and which was clearly inevita- 
ble. Crawford had very little tolerance for 
concessions and dilatory action, in a cause 
which he conceived to have been closed to 
amicable adjustment. lie was no half-way 
man. He never paused to compromise, 
when he could see his way to a favorable 
result by risking a less indirect procedure. 
In fact, Crawford was in favor of declaring 
war fioin the moment that the BriUsh Gov- 

ernment refused to make proper amends 
and satisfaction for the unwarrantable attack 
of the Leoj>ard on the Chesapeake, off" the 
Iiarbor of Norfolk : and, in after years, did 
not scruple to charge Madison with am- 
biguousness on the point of war or peace in 
his celebrated message of 1812, characteriz- 
ing it as akin to the sinuous and obscure 
declarations of a Delphic oracle. 

The Embargo was the darling scheme, 
along with the Non-intercourse Act of 1809, 
of the Jefierson and Madison Administra- 
tions. Crawford was thus thrown into an 
attitude of partial opposition to the Demo- 
cratic leaders of that day, although far in- 
deed removed from any fraternizing sym- 
pathy with the then unprincipled and ran- 
corous remnant of the old Federal party. 
From these differences, slight as they were, 
sprang the germs of that conservative, na- 
tional party which, soon gathering compact- 
ness under the lead of Madison, of Clay, and 
of the younger Adams, has opposed, ever 
since, a steady and unyielding barrier, amidst 
var3ring fortunes, to the unbridled radical- 
ism of Democracy, as also to the baneful 
extremes of Federalism. The declaration of 
war, it may be observed, was not favored by 
Jeffierson. With him the milder and, as ho 
thought, scarcely less effectual remedy of 
spirited retaliatory measures, as concerned 
the British orders in Council and the French 
decrees, was the preferred hne of conduct. 
Madison, long his warm adherent and pre- 
mier cabinet officer, had his doubts and his 
difficulties. The multiplied aggressions of 
the British Government had, indeed, stirred 
up within the American nation fierce and 
ominous fires of resentment. Still they per- 
ceived that the business men of the country 
deprecated hostiUties. New-England had 
gone quite to the point of rebelUon on ac- 
count of the Embargo and restrictive mea- 
sures. She was now loud in her denun- 
ciations of war. The commercial cities of 
the North were scarcely less reconciled to 
the commencement of hostilities that would 
certainly depress and cripple them. The 
cotton-planters and the tobacco-growers 
dreaded the ruinous depreciation in the 
then high price of their staple productions, 
which was sure to result from a decla- 
ration of war. The Federalists, rejoiced to 
take hold of aught that might offer to prop 
their sinking fortunes, Or to worry their ex- 
ultant opponents, harangued bitterly against 


William H. Crawford. 


the niptnre of peaceful relaUons with Eng- 
land, and bullyiDgly defied those who ad- 
vocated the last resort. The Democrats 
hesitated; and although Mndiii^oD afterwards 
hroke throng^ these procrastinating counsels, 
and staked his administration on the Issue of 
the war, yet there was a time when his 
delay had called forth no light reprehension 
from those of his politicjd friends who coin- 
cided with Crawford. Ilis decision lost him 
some friends and gained him legions of ma- 
lignant enemies; but, at the same time, it 
operated to change wholly the original com- 
plexion of the Jeifersonian Democracy, and 
gave vitality and impulse to a third party, 
which had suddenly emerged from the 
chaotic political elements, under the bold 
lead of William Harris Crawford. But in 
1811 the transition had been powerfully 
aided by the position which had been taken 
by Crawford and his Republican fiiends 
with regard to the question of rechartering 
the Bank of the United States ; and the final 
ooocarrence of Madison in this policy was 
the dosing scene of the ancient organization 
of parties, and marked still more fully the 
differences of the liberal and the radical 
wings of the original Democratic party. 

At this point opeas a brilliant and most 
important period in Crawford's political 
career. His reputation u]) to this time, 
akhough gradually spreading, had been 
mainly confined within the limits of his own 
State. The slight difierences which had 
separated him from the immediate body of 
lir. Jefferson^s party, as concerned the policy 
of ihe Embargo, and which had given rise 
to the encounter between himself and Giles, 
had not drawn out the full powers of his 
mind, or unfolded to the eye of the njition 
those vast intellectual treasures and inward 
resources, which afterwards outshone and 
eclipsed all competition, and marked him as 
one of the leading statesmen of his day. Uis 
fiunenow expanded and spread, and (ioorgin 
surrendered her favorite son to the nation. 

From 1790 to 1840 the various questions 
connected with the constitutionality and ex- 
pediency of the United States 13ank en- 
gaged more deeply the public mind than 
any others belonging to the history of the 
country. Indeed, the interest thus excitod 
b^pm under the previously existing govern- 
rnent^ and originated with the project of 
chartering the Bank of North America. 
The cry of the then opposition soon became 

sufficiently effective to induce the stock- 
holders to surrender their Congressional 
privileges, and to accept a charter less ol)- 
jectionable and less j)ie(arious from the State 
of Pennsylvania. But when in 1791, im- 
mediately after the ad()})tiou of the j>resent 
Constitution, the }>rojeet of a National Bank 
was revived under the auspices of Alexander 
Hamilton, a steady and furious opposition 
arose, which, only checked for the moment 
by the overawing influence of Washington, 
soon swelled into a large and jealous j)arty, 
and has succeeded in bequeathing its rancor 
and vindictiveness to every succeeding gene- 
ration from that time to the present. Pre- 
viously to this the organization of parties 
had been based on the approval and disap- 
proval of the Federal CoiLstitution. But the 
agitation of the Bank question, and its char- 
ter by Congress, gave a complexion to politi- 
cal divisions which begat a new era in the 
history of parties. On this subject it was 
that Hamilton and Jefferson first crossed 
weapons ; and on this the tocsin fii-st sounded 
the hostile notes of that factious warfare 
which led to such acrimonious encounters 
and differences betwixt their respective ad- 
herents. No two men could have been 
brought together more entirely oj)posed in 
oj>inion, or in habits of thought, or in modes 
of actit^n, than Hamilton and JelVoison. 
Their disagreement grew into an implaca- 
ble hostility, which defied the mediation of 
Washington himself, and, as might have 
been expected, hurried each to ra^h and 
unwary extremities in the formation and 
maintenance of their political ojunions. 
Hamilton was an extreme Finleralist ; JeflVr- 
son was an extreme Democrat. Hamilton 
leaned to and advocated a strontr and een- 
trahzing government, wholly disallii'd with 
all genuine republican notions. Jefferson 
was a rabid and uncompromising radical, 
and promulged doctrines and principles at 
once abhorrent and dangerous to the per- 
manence and safety of anv form of mn't-rn- 
ment. The first favored English politics; 
the last was an ardent friend to P'reneh 
politics. They dilVered on every and all 
subjects, and always quarrelled. It was not 
to be expected, therefore, that they would 
; agree on the question of establishing a 
National Bank. Washington, when the 
bill was sent to him for signature and ap- 
proval, with a decent respect to the sharp 
conflicts of opinion among his friends, de- 


Beview cf the L^ and Times of 


manded an opinion from each of his four 
ministers. Three of them, at his request, 
reduced their ideas to writing. Knox, who 
was a poor hand with the pen, gave his in 
conversation, and they were found to co- 
incide with those of Hamilton. The Attor- 
ney General, Randolph, sided with Jefferson 
in an unqualified opposition to the scheme. 
How far the personal animosities and differ- 
ences of the two Secretaries may have af- 
fected this great public interest, may never be 
known. At all events, Washington decided 
according to the views of Hamilton, and 
signed the charter. He carried along with 
hun a sufficiency of the Republican influence 
to rescue the scheme from the odium of an 
extreme Federal measure ; and thus the ques- 
tion had rested from 1791 to 1811. 

At this session, to the confusion and dis- 
may of the ultra Democracy, the fi-iends of 
the Bank again entered the arena, and ap- 
plied for a renewal of its charter, under the 
advice and lead of Crawford. Crawford had 
not taken his position inconsiderately or un- 
warily. He was, in his sentiments, a firm 
Republican and supporter, in the main, of 
the Jefferson and Madison Administrations. 
But his mind was of too comprehensive and 
active a cast to be fettered by narrow party 
ties, when reason and experience pointed to 
a useful result. In tracing the history of 
banking institutions, he was doubtless forci- 
bly struck with the fact that they had found 
admission and patronage among the principal 
and most enlightened commercial nations; 
that they had successively obtained in Italy, 
Germany, Holland, England, and France, as 
well as in the United States ; and that, after 
a candid estimate of their tendency and an 
expeiience of centuries, there existed not 
a doubt about their utility in the countries 
where they had been so long established 
and so fairly tried. Wherever they had 
been created and properly sustained, indus- 
try and trade had been indebted to them 
for thrift and important aid, and Govern- 
ment repeatedly under the gi'eatest obliga- 
tions to them in dangerous or distressing 
emergencies. In reviewing the history of 
the Bank of the United States, he found 
that the great-est amount of good had fol- 
lowed its establishment, and that for twenty 
jj^ears every department of industry, as well* 
BA of government, had received timely aid 
and advantages from its beneficent opera- 
tions. These facts weighed heavily with 

one of his eminently practical comtitutioiiy 
whose mind, directed always to great and 
expanded measures, was wholly incapable of 
being dwarfed to the pitiful dimensions of 
insane factious opposition ; and was im- 
pervious alike to tiie threats or the allure- 
ments of sectarian predilections. He decided 
promptly on his course of action, and deter- 
mined to advocate the renewal oi the expired 
charter openly and zealously. With him 
were ranged Albert Gallatin, Secretary of 
the Treasury, Pope, the Senator from Ken- 
tucky, and some few more distinguished 
Democrats, or Republicans. But against 
him there appeared a formidable host of 
talents and influence, and the entire preju- 
dices of the Jeffersonian sect. The principal 
of these opponents were Smith of Maryland, 
and Henry Clay, the Senatorial colleague of 
Mr. Pope. William B. Giles sided with the 
opposition, but made a speech so rambling 
and tortuous as to leave his opinions on the 
main question well nigh undefined, and 
which his then coadjutor, Clay, wittily char- 
acterized as having '^ discussed hoik sides of 
the question with great ability, and as hav- 
ing demonstrated to the satisfaction of all 
who heard him, both that it was constitu- 
tional and unconstitutional, highly proper 
and improper to prolong the charter of the 

Crawford was Chairman of the Com- 
mittee to whom the appUcation of the stock- 
holders, praying Congress to renew the 
charter of the Bank, had been referred. He 
{^phed himself to the duties of his station 
with an ardor that showed his disregard of 
party associations where the public good was 
concerned, and with a zeal and fideUty that 
eminently evinced the depth and sincerity of 
his convictions. He fortified his cause and 
himself with every necessary extrinsic aid ; 
took the elaborated opinion of the Secretary 
of the Treasury ; and consulted extensively 
with deputations from the commercial and 
industrial interests of the great sections of 
the Confederacy. But the mastery of ex- 
trinsic facts did not alone serve to fit him 
for the ensuing struggle. The benefits aris- 
ing from the estabhshment and continuance 
of the Bank were unquestionable. The ne- 
cessity and expediency of renewing the char- 
ter could not be successfully controverted. 
The batUe had to be fought on the ram- 
parts of the Constitution^ and of this Craw- 
ford was fully aware. He had calculated 


WaUtm B. Chmmfbrd. 


the cppontkm would direct their main 
\a i^ainst the consHtutunudiiy of the 
rare, and thns drive the petitioners out 
>ngres8 without allowing them to bring 
eir array of popular evidence and con- 
Dg facta. But ne had prepared to meet 
i at the very threshold, and armed 
elf with a panoply of reason and argu- 
te which, supported by unquestioned 
ority, effectually dislodged his adver- 
B horn their defiant position, and threw 
I at once on the defensive. He courted, 
svidently desired them to attack ; but, 
g in this, he was rievertheless fully pre- 
1 to assume the offensive. 
1 the 5th of February the report of the 
mittee had been made to the Senate, 
% majority concurred in the motion to 
Dpany the same with a bill to extend 
xpired diarter of the Bank. The bill 
ralgected to some amendments, and its 
deradon postponed for one week. On 
Doming df the 12th, Mr. Anderson, of 
eaaee, mqved to strike out the first sec- 
bat declined givbg any reasons in sup- 
of his motion, on the ground that the 
ion had been doubtless already decided, 
B mind of eveiy Senator, as of every 
in the nation. This course at once un- 
i the poKcy of the opposition. Craw- 
oasily perceived that, confident of nu- 
al strength, they had decided either to 
)kc assault, or else quietly to demolish 
ill section by section. He replied to 
rson by ob«er\'ing tliat such a method 
^patching business was novel and as- 
ling ; that a bill had been presented to 
enatc to continue the operation of an 
ition of twenty years' standing, whose 
effects were universally admitted, and 
3 influence on the public prasperity was 
) be denied ; and yet, in j)lace of giv- 
ny reason against the continuance, the 
e was told that public sentiment had 
ed the question. lie appealed to the 
r if this was a fair and magnanimous 
of procedure ? IIow was it possible, 
<cd, for the friends of the bill to meet 
ions never made ? A\'hcn a question 
;h macfnitude was to be <!ecided, he 
ided that it was proper to offer some 
w why the bill should be rejected. It 
Mwered by General Smith, that there 
lothing novel in the course suggested 
) Senator from Tennessee ; that it was 
mentary to make such motion ; and that 

it always became the intiodiieer of a bill to 
give some reasoDs to induoe the Saiate to 
give the same its support Anderson con- 
curred, and again repeated hia former mo- 

Crawford promptiy rejoined. He intima- 
ted that his remarks had been misconceived; 
that he made no comphiint asaiDst the mo- 
tion ; but that it was not usuid in any delib- 
erative body that achairman should be Cfdled 
on to state the reasons which induced a 
Committee to report any provision to a bin, 
when a motion was maoe which went toput 
an end to any discussion of the detaiL "GJen- 
Uemen," he said, ^ were about to defeat the 
bill, and it was ^r that they should assign 
their reasons. How could he foresee tbrar 
objections! Or i^ perchance, he should 
foresee and answer them, would not gentle- 
men say that such were' not the reasona 
which mfluenced their votea f It was like 
pursuing a vnU-o^-thMmp-^jou can never 
arrive at the true object oC pursuit" 

He was again answered by Gen. Smith, 
that it was afways the duty of a Committee 
to inform the Senate of Uie reasons which 
induced them to report a bill ; that it was 
expected by hunself and others that the 
chairman would favor them with an argu* 
ment to induce their support of the bill, and 
that then he might consider of his duty in 
making answer. 

This last rejoinder fully exposed the plan 
of action which had been agreed on by the 
opponents of the bill. It was clear that they 
did not intend to take the initiative in discus- 
sion, and Crawford persisted in his endeavor 
to provoke assault no longer. He asked for 
no postponement, he craved no further time 
for preparation, but proceeded forthwith, and 
to the surprise of the opposition, to deliver his 
views m a speech which, for vigor and ori- 
ginality of thought, cogency of argument, 
and power of intellectual research, has never 
been surpassed in any parliamentary body, 
and which fixed his claims to greatness. He 
begins by boldly laying down the premise that 
the Federal Constitution had been so much 
construed as if it were perfect^ that many of 
its best features were about to be rendered 
imbecile, and that prejudice was thus tend- 
ing to actually destroy the object of affec- 
tion ; that when this was carried so far aa 
to endanger the public wel&re, it was neces- 
sary that its {mperfecttonM should be dis- 
closed to public view; which disclosure, while 


Bevieu of th« Life mtd Tima of 

it might cause the tidoration to cease, would 
ni>t, tlierefore, necessarily place the Consti- 
tution beyond tlie reach of ardent attach- 
ment, lie follows up this startling declara- 
tion with a severe analysis of the Constitu- 
tion, to pnne ila force ; showing that the 
very numerous ineidentalismt whicli apper- 
tdn to its express granla of power, clearly 
demonstrate the/af{i6i7ify of the instrument, 
with all its just clfums to our respect and 
deep veneration. Alter going through thus 
with the eatire list of the specified powers of 
Congress, adroitly using each to illustrate 
his premise, ho finally seizes on the fouith 
article of the Constitution to prove "the 
absurdity," as well of the idea of its per- 
fection, OS of the construction that the enu- 
meration of certain powers excludes all other 
powers not enumerated. His method of 
reasoning this point is so novel, so interest- 
ing, and so reaistlessly conWcdve, that 
shall venture lo transcribe the portion which 
embraces this head of his speech. 

"This article," be E»y», " appears to be of « mi»- 
cellaneous character, and very similar to (he codi- 
cil of ft will The first article jiroyides for the 
orgnniialion of Congress; dtlinea its powers; pre- 
scribes limitations on the powera previously grant- 
ed; an J seta metes and bounds to the authority 
of the State OovernmenLi. Hie second article 

Erovides for the organization of the Executive 
lepartuieiil, anil deRncFi its power and duly, 
I'he third article defines the tenure liy which the 
persons in whom the judicial power may be vesCe<t 
shall hold their offices, and prescribes the extent 
of their power and jiirisdicUon. These tiree ar- 
ticles provide for the three great departoienta □( 
government, Called into existence by the Consti- 
tution ; but some other provisionii jial then occur, 
which ou"ht to have been included in one or the 
other of the tlirco preefding articles, and these pro- 
visloos are incorporated and compose the fourth 
article. The first section of it declares, that 'full 
faith and credit shall be given, in each State, to 
the public act«, records, and judicial proceediugs 
of every other Stale ; and the Congress may, by 
general laws, prescribe the mtnner in which Buch 
acts, records, and proceedings shall be proved, and 
the effect thcreoC In the second section it de- 
clares that a person charged, in any Slate, with 
treason, felony, or other crime, wlio sfiatl flt-c from 
justice, and bo found in another State, 'shall, od 
demand of the eiecntiic authority of the State 
from which ho fled, be delivered up, lobe removed 
to the State having jurisdiction of the crime,' A 
similar provision is contained in the same section, 
relative to fugitives who are bound to labor, fa; 
the laws of any State. In the first case which has 
been selected, express aulhorily has been given to 
Congress to prescribe tiie manner in which the 
recorJ-i, .Ic, should be proved, and also the effcd 
thereof ; but, in the other two, no authority has 

been given to Congress ; and yet the hare ini<peo- 
tlon of the three cases will prove that the inter- 
ference of Congress is less necessary in the first 
than in the two remaining cases. A record most 
always be provcit by Itralf. because it is the highest 
evidence or which the case admits. The effort of 

power to prescribe the effect of « record was 
wholly unnecessary, and has been so held by Con- 
gress — no taw having beeu posted to prescntie the 
i-ffcct of a record. In the second case there seems 
lo be some appnrent reason for passing a law to 
ascertain the officer upon whom the demand is to 
be made ; what evidence of (he identity of the 
' landed, and of the guilt of the party 

;hai^d, must be produced, before the obligali 
to deliver shall be complete. The same apparent 
reason elists fo- the paas.ige of a law relative to 
fugitives from labor- Accordintr, however, to the 
rule of construction contended for. Congress cao- 
nnt pass any law to carry the Constitution into 
effect in the two last cases selected, because ex- 
press power has been given in the first, and is 
withheld in the two last But Congress has 

been complained of by the people or the States." 

The speech then proceeds with nn able 
argument to prove that there must neces- 
sarily exist, in the Constitution, powers de- 
i^vablc from implication. He contends that 
it is only by implication that Congress ex- 
ercises the power to establish a Supremo 
Court, because the expresi grant is limited, 
as concerns the action of Congress, otily to 
the creation of "inferior tribunals." Thus, 
he argues, is derived the sole power to accept 
or purchase places for the erection of forts, 
magaiines, dockyards, and arsenals; as also 
the power to build lighthouses, and to legis- 
late for the support of the same. These all 
being clearly implied powers, and having 
never excited complaint when exercised by 
Congress, he maintains that the same an- 
cient and thoroughly settled rule of con- 
struction will leave Congress with the power 
to create a Bank, derivable from the clause 
which gives the power " to lay and collect 
taxes, duties, imposts, and excises." He 

j " A law to erect lighthouses is no move a !aw to 
regulate commerce, than a law creating a Bank is 
a law lo collect taxes, duties, and imp-«ta. But the 
erection of lighthouses tends lo facilitate and pro- 
. mote the security oud prosperily of commerce, 
and. in an equal degree, the erection of a Bank 
tends tu facihtate and msure the cilleelion, aafe- 
I keeping, and transmission of revenue. If, by this 
I niieofconstructinn, which is applied toIi^hthoiwA 
! but denied to the Bank, (Congress can, as incidental 


William H, Crawford, 


to Um power to regulate commerce, erect light- 
house*, it will be eaity to sliow that the same ri;^ht 
nay be excsrcised &< incidental to the power of Iiiy- 
iqg and collecting duties and imposts. Duties can- 
Dot be collected, unles vessels importing dutiable 
BWfclwndiae arrive in p>rt; whatever, therefore, 
to secure their safe arrival may be extTcIscd 
that general power : the erection of light- 
I do€9 fiidlitate the safe arrival of vessels in 
port; ami CkHigress can, therefore, exercise this 
ri^t as hictdeatal to the power to lay imposts 

Pursuing this course of syllogism and 
logical deduction, lie goes on to argue that 
the creation of a Bank is necessary and pro- 
per, as the very best means to collect, safely 
keep, and disburse the public revenue ; not 
becamse the National Government is actually 
dependent on a Bank, but that it is ma- 
tenaliy aided by a Bank, and that it must, 
therefore, be a constitutional agent indirectly 
or impliedly contemplated as necessary. Ad- 
verting to the idea that the States have re- 
served to themselves the exclusive right of 
erecting Banks, he boldly promulges the 
doctrine that, so iar from such power having 
been reserved, the States are actually pro- 
hibited by the Constitution from exercising 
this power. He says : — 

*Id the tenth section of the first article of the 
CoofititutioD, it is declared, among other things, 
that DO State Fhall coin money, emit bills of credit, 
or make anything but gold and silver a tender in 
pBjrment of debts. What, Sir, is a bill of credit ? 
Will it be contended tliat a bank bill is not a bill 
of credit? They are emphatically bills of credit. 
But it may be said that tlie States do not, by the 
crraticD oi banks, with authority to emit bills of 
credit^ infringe upon the Constitution, because 
they do not emit the bills themselves. If .they 
have not the power to emit bills of credit, (I for- 
tiori^ they cannot delegate to others a power 
wbidi they themselves cannot exercise. But, Sir, 
loonrding to the maxims of law and sound roiisun, 
what they do by another, they do themselvca** 

Leaving the field of solid constitutional 
argument, the speaker next proceeds to dis- 
cos his proposition with reference to its 
alleged party connections, and, incidentally, 
as regards the competency of a State Gov- 
ernment to resist the establishment, within 
its limits, of a branch of the United States 
Bank. At the time that the constructive 
roles obtained which authorize the erection 
of a Bank as the fiscal agent of tlie Govorn- 
menty he contends that party, in its present 
sense, was unknown ; that the Constitution 
itself was just framed, and not beyond the 
influence of unquestioned first impressions ; 

and that the Bank had then been sanctioned 
by the best authorities, and in the best days 
of the Republic. After contrasting those purer 
times with the rancorous scenes in which he 
was then mi.Kinu: ; denouncinfj the intolerance 
and viudictiveuoss of the then ** Democratic 
presses;" and protesting against the illegal 
interference of certain "great States*' with 
the regular operations of Congress, he giv(*s 
vent to the following splendid philippic: — 

" The Democratic presses have, for more than 
twelve months past, teemed with the most scur- 
rilous abuse against every member of Congress 
who has dared to utter a syllable in favor of the 
renewal of the Bunk charter. The member who 
dares to give his opinion in favor of the renewal 
of the charter, is mstantly charpjed with being 
bribed by the agents of the Bank— with being 
comipt — with having trampled upon the rights 
and liberties of the people — with having sold the 
sovereignty of the United States to foreign capital- 
ists — with being guilty of perjury by having viola- 
ted the Constitution. Yes, Sir, these are the circum- 
stances under which we are Ciilled to reject the 
bilL When we compare the circumstances under 
which we are now actmg, with those which existed 
at the time when the law was passed to incor- 
porate the Bank, we may well distrust our own 
judgment 1 had always thought. Sir, that a cor- 
poration was an artificial body, existing only in 
contemplation of law ; but if we can believe the 
rantings of our Democratic editors, in these great 
States, and the denunciations of our public dc- 
claiiners, it exists under the form of every foul 
and liateful boast, and bird, and creeping thing. 
It is a Hydra; it is a Ct^rherun ; it is a Gory on; 
it is a Vulture ; it i^ a Viper. Yes, Sir, in their 
imaginations, it not only assumes every hideous 
and frightful form, but it |>03sef ses ever poisonous, 
deleterious, and destructive quality. Shall wo, 
Sir, suffer our imaginations to be alarmed, and our 
judgments to be infiuenced by such miserable 
stutn Shall we tamely act under the la-h of this 
tyranny of the press? No man complains of the 
discussion in the newspapers of any subject which 
comes before the Legislature of the Union ; but I 
most solemnly protest against the course which 
has been pursued by these editors in relation to 
this question. Instead of reasoning to prove the 
unconstitutionality of the law, they charge mem- 
bers of Congress with being bribed or corrupted ; 
and this is what they call the liberty of the press. 
To tyranny, under whatever form it may be ex- 
ercised, I declare open and interminable war. To 
me it is perfectly indifferent whether the tyrant is 
an irresponsible editor, or a despotic monarch.^ 

But Crawford was not content even thus 
to rest his case on the solid basis of primi- 
tive republican authority. Assuming that 
the Democratic or regular Jeffersonian party 
were opposed, on principle, to the establish- 
ment of a Bank, he proves that their public 
acts give the he to their opinions, inasmuch 


Review of the Life and Times of 


Bs this same party indirectly sanctioned the 
Bank by establishing a branch in Louisiana 
in 1804, and, in 1807, by passing laws to 
punish oftenses of counterfeiting, or other- 
wise improperly interfering with the Bank 
monopoly ; and this, too, with such unanim- 
ity, that tho bill glided through both Houses 
without a call of the yeas and nays on its final 
passage, or any of its intermediate stages. 
And it is under this head of the speech that, 
speaking of the right of States to oppose the 
erection of branch Banks within their bor- 
ders, we find the following emphatic and 
unqualified declaration of opinion on a point 
which, so far as the name and authority of 
our distinguished subject may be regarded, 
must startle and disconcert the wild seces- 
sionists and ultra States' rights men of the 
present critical times : — 

** Permit me. Sir, to make one or two observa- 
tions upon this competency of tho J^tate Govem- 
menrs to renist (he authority or the execution of a 
law of Congress. What kind of resistance can 
they make, which is constitutional? I know of 
but one kind — and that is by elections. The Peo- 
ple, and the States, have the right to change the 
members of the National Legislature, and in that 
way, and in that alone, can they eflFect a change 
of the measures of this Government It is true, 
there is another kind of resistance which can be 
made, but it is unknoton to the Constitution. This 
resistance depends upon physical force; it is an 
appeal to the sword ; and by the sword must that 
appenl be decided^ and not by the provisions of the 

After a concise and lucid exposition of 
banking principles as illustrated and de- 
veloped in connection with the history of 
many of the States, and the special benefits 
to be derived from a National Bank, the 
distinguished speaker, towards the end of his 
argument, notices the objection raised by 
many to a Bank, because a portion of the 
stock may be owned by foreign capitalists. 
Formidable as this objection may at first 
seem, he seizes and wields it as an affirma- 
tive argument, proving that what has been 
so generally deemed a disastrous policy, is 
really an advantage to the country. He 
argues that if, by investing their principal 
means in an American institution, dependent 
entirely on the will of the American Gov- 
erment, and existing by the sufiferance of 
the American people, foreigners acquire any 
influence over such institution, it is their 
interest to exert the same in our favor. A 
country in which the capital of foreigners is 

employed, and whose Government can, at ^ 
any moment, lay its hands on the same, ■ 
must of necessity possess more influence * 
with these foreigners than they possibly can i 
over us or to our injury ; besides the impor- ■: 
tant fact that, in case of apprehended war : 
between their nation and ours, self-interest - 
would impel them to exert a beneficial in- 
fluence in favor of that which holds their 

The conclusion of this finished argument 
is worthy of its principal features and main 
body, and is eminently characteristic of its 
author : — 

" Sir, we have the experience of twenty years 
for our guide. During that lapse of years your 
finances have been, through the agency of this 
Bank, skilfully and successuilly managed. Durine 
this period, the improvement of the country and 
the prosperity of the nation have been rapidly 
progressing. Why, then, should we, at this peril- 
ous and momentous crisis, abandon a well-tried 
system — faulty, perhaps, in the detail, but sound 
in its fundamental principles ? Does the pride of 
opinion revolt at the idea of acquiescing in the 
system of your political opponents? G)mel and 
with me sacrifice your pride and political resent- 
ments at the shrine of political good. Let them 
be made a propitiatory sacrifice for the promotion 
of the public welfare, the savor of which will 
ascend to heaven, and be there reconled as a lasting, 
an everlasting evidence of your devotion to the 
happiness of your country." 

This speech, and the one which followed 
a few days afterwards from the same source, 
proved to be unanswerable in every respect 
Crawford had forestalled and neutralized the 
whole plan of argument in opposition, both 
within and without the pale of the Constitu- 
tion. He had gone over the whole ground, 
and surveyed it in its every point, before ho 
engaged in the conflict of debate. Conse- 
quently, the speeches of his opponents which 
followed the delivery of his own, are mostly 
discursive and declamatory, rarely ever ar- 
gumentative. They did not bring forth a 
solitary new objection, although, as we have 
already intimated, the speakers were among 
the most talented men of the country. Their 
efforts seemed to be mainly directed with 
a view to defeat the bill by conjuring up 
against it long dormant party prejudices, 
and to enlist all the rabid animosities of politi- 
cal warfare. And so irrefutably had Craw- 
ford planted his positions, that even Henry 
Clay, with his spicy variety and raciness, 
was forced to the unworthy resort of meet- 


William H. Crawford. 


w^ aigoment with the usual demago^cal 
meal to the lower and baser prejudices of 
the nuiid. But, at the same time, it is not 
■likelj that the boldness and independence 
diq^lajed by Crawford on this occasion, 
mred fint to attract and wean liini from 
the ultra Democracy of the true Jeffersonian 
ichool, and to direct his ardent and Iiigh- 
toned ambition to the attainment of great 
political purposes and ends, which rose 
•bove the circumscribed and impracticable 
liewB of the radical sect in whose opinions 
he had been raised. 

The discussion, however, was not alto- 
lether of a peaceful and quiet character. 
Mott of the opposition speakers, aware of 
Oiawlbrd's extreme sensitiveness and irasci- 
Uilj of temper, were careful to avoid all 
omtionable allusions to the differences of 
MMmon which separated him, on this ques- 
ten, from the main body of his political 
fijenda, and to eschew all courno of remark 
wUdi might induce unpleasant personal ap- 
pGeation. But Whitesides, a Senator from 
lenoeMeey was not so prudent and furbear- 
iDff, and declared, in the course of a very 
BOiflEerent speech, that members of the 
Democratic party who were now found mak- 
ing common cause with the friends of the 
Bank, most be regarded as political apostates. 
This remark stung Crawford to the quick, 
and aroused at once that deep sense of re- 
aentment which possesses all s])irited per- 
lODS who are conscious of honest motives. 
In replyy he denounced the use of such lan- 
gnage, in connection with a member or 
members of the Senate, as indecorous and 
■nbeooming ; declaring that no one should, 
nilhont the walls of the chain bi'r, apply 
inch to him with impunity. Whitesides 
ittempted to exculpate himself by an expla- 
nation ; but explanation had then been 
oflbied too late to restore friendly feeling. 
He did not deny having used the ex])res- 
rion, and Crawford persisted in denouncing 
it as an assertion made without the proof to 
■Dstain it, and which was ])lainly contra- 
dicted by the record. This closed all doors 
to an amicable adjustment, and, so far as 
appean, Whitesides made a merit of sub- j 
niasion to the denunciation. 

It is known that the bill, reported by the 
Committee, failed to pass at the session of 
181 i. Crawford, therefore, did not succeed 
in acoomplishing his main object, although 
he paved the way for a resuscitation, at a 

future session of Congress, of the expired 
charter ; and the stand he liad taken lent a 
support to the Lank which sustained its 
political fortunes through many years of 
trials and struggles. But the debate, in 
view of the previous party relations of those 
who participated in it, gave rise to political 
events of the most imi)0i"tant and i>enna- 
nent character. The whole project of the 
National Bank was conceded to Federal 
paternity. This fact at once arrayed against it 
the entire forces of the Democratic or Jeffor- 
sonian party, and among these was James 
Madison, then President, though known to bo 
less attenuated in his oi)inion8 than the illus- 
trious leader and founder of that hide-bound 
sect. Crawford had entered the Senate, a 
member of the same party, but, as we have 
seen, crossed swords with its prominent 
champion, on a vital issue, at the very first 
session. The gap thus made was never fairly 
closed ; and although Crawfoid was reck- 
oned an anti-Federalist during his entire 
public career, it is yet a remarkable fact 
that ho never acted with the Democratic 
party on any of the important issues at 
stake. When, therefore, in 1811, ho was 
put forward as the leader of the Bank party, 
it became evident that a confusion of parties, 
already foreshadowed in 1808, must sj^eedily 
ensue. The main body of the Federal party 
gladly followed his k-ad. The j»rominent 
liberal Democrats took their stations by his 
side. At the s«.'»sion of 181G, the Bank char- 
ter, thus aided by this timely co-operation of 
dissentient factions, was passed. In this man- 
ner a third party Wgan slowly to emerge from 
the confusion ; for the largest portion of the 
Federalists, althon*jh co-operating with their 
opponents on the Bank question, liad march- 
ed off under the anti-war banner, sheared, 
however, of its brightest ornaments, and 
of its most ])atri()tic and liberal meml>ers. 
While, then, the new i)arty did not absorb 
this rancorous j»halanx, their ranks were 
soon swelled by imj)ortant acoessic>ns from 
the Democratic fold, (.-hit'f amonjij these 
was IVsidont Mudison, who, vS^kx signing 
the Bank charter, bceame it.s hearty and 
j)owerful advocate, and, of course, approached 
Crawford with every domonstratiun ot' ci:)n- 
fidence and ])olitical sympathy. Clay soon 
followed, and imblicly announced, as he has 
repeatedly done since, his entire change of 
opinion on the Bank question ; while, on the 
floor of the Uouse of Representatives, Cal- 


Eevieuf qf the Life and Times of 


houn himself was recognized as the prime 
mover and leader of those who favored the 
re-establishment of the Bank. 

These events gave birth to the Whig 
party ; which, soon gathering compactness 
and strength, has exercised great influence 
in the political world from that day to the 
present. Men may since have changed, and 
mn the gauntlet of political tergiversations ; 
but the party is essentially the same, and at 
its head may still be recognized many who 
were principal actora in its original forma- 

It is painful to pjiuse, at this interesting 
period of Crawford's political history, to re- 
cord the unwelcome fact that his opinion, as 
concerned the constitutional power of Con- 
gress to charter a Bank, underwent in his 
latter life an entire change. His great 
speech in support of the Bank had not been 
successfullv answered at the time of its de- 
livery. It gave birth to an influence that 
shortly afterwards created the elements of a 
new party organization, converted to its 
opinions many of the most distinguished of 
the Bank opponents, and brought about a 
train of legislation that established the Bank 
as one of the cardinal means of carrying into 
effect the granted powers of Congress. This 
legislation remained unaltered, and almost 
undisturbed, for nearly twenty years after 
the charter of 1816, during which time the 
Bank had foithfully and correctly transacted 
all the fiscal business of the Government; 
and at Lust its political fortune had only 
gone down before the selfish animosities of 
jealous politicians, and the indomitable will 
of an equally implacable and intolerant party 
chieftain. During all this long period, Craw- 
ford was alive, in retirement at his rural seat 
of Woodlawn. Ilis Bank speeches, if they 
had not made for him all the political conse- 
quence he ever enjoyed, had at least first 
introduced him to the nation, and laid the 
foundation of his greatness. The fruits of 
his bold exertions and lMl)ors were manifested 
on all sides, and in every quarter of the' 
Union, by an unparalleled progress of gene- 
ral prosperity. lie had made the Bank a 
favorite with the nation, and, in the out<»et 
of his brilliant career, had stJiked his for- 
tunes on its pint(lo i<sue. Long years rolled 
away, ami his fame became identified with 
this fii"st obj( ct of his public devotion. But 
time, v.hich had developed the full scope 
of his policy, verified his exjiectations and 

predictions, and crowned his eflforts with un- 
surpassed success, had touched him with a 
heavy and bhghting hand. Disease had made 
rapid encroachments, and dealt him a blow 
from which he never recovered. Artful and 
unprincipled men, seeking his confidence 
under the guise of friendship, had abused 
his weaknesses, and inveigled him in un- 
pleasant personal controversies, which sub- 
jected him to the merciless assaults of ancient 
political enemies whose rancor he had been 
led to provoke, and which grew to be too 
serious, too bitter, and too intricate in their 
final connections, not to dislodge an equa- 
nimity, which, never very settled, had now 
been so severely ruflled by disease. It so 
happened, too, that Clay and Calhoun, with 
whom he was then so fiercely engaged, and 
originally his opponents on the Bank ques- 
tion, had become of late the peculiar friends 
and guardians of the Bank interests. It is 
not, therefore, surprising that, under such 
circumstances, he should have been dispos- 
sessed of his calm judgment and discretion — 
especially when it is further considered that 
the varying tide of politics had thrown him 
alongside of those who were moving their 
whole official and personal influence to the 
destruction of the United States Bank. 

It was at such a time, and in the midst 
of such exciting events, that the world heard 
first of Crawford's change of opinion on this 
question. It occurred just before the close 
of his life, and after he had been in close 
retirement for more than seven years, during 
which time the whole complexion of parties 
and of pohtics had undergone a change, 
leaving no outward discernible marks of fhe 
eventful era in which he had figured. His 
immediate circle of intimate and confiden- 
tial friends were all opposed to a Bank. 
A distinguished member of Congi-ess from 
Georgia, his early friend and political fol- 
lower, was leading opposition to the Bank 
in the House of Representatives, and against 
him, in favor of the Bank, was arrayed the 
entire South Carolina influence, headed by 
McDuffie, who had just publicly assailed 
Crawford's veracity on a delicate and im- 
poi-t-iint {K)int. Thus was presented to 
him the unwelcome spectacle of enemies 
sheltering themselves from overthrow be- 
hind the solid ramparts of his own previous 
opinions, while his friends were being daily 
confused and driven off by the exhibition of 
this proof armor which himself had forged. 


William H, Crawford. 


It would be attributing to him more than 
baman endowments, to suppose that these 
fiicto did not materially influence the ap- 
parent change of opinion to which wo have 

About this time, as our information un- 
folds, Crawford, in his capacity of Circuit 
Judge, went over to the county of Elbert 
for we purpose of holding the semi-annual 
tenn of its Court He staid there over night, 
as had long been his custom, with an ancient 
and confidential friend, himself an active and 
lealous politican. Conversation turned on 
the proceedings of Congress, as regarded 
the Bank, and, incidentally, concerning his 
own former poHdcal relations with that in- 
stitution. During its progress, the host ad- 
verted to a copy of the debates, in his pos- 
MBaion, on the formation of the Federal 
Constitution, and its adoption by the States. 
The book was placed in Crawford's posses- 
uon ; and then it was that recently engen- 
dered prejudice found, as it was thought, a 
genial and strong covert behind which to 
j^ant and sustain tlio change of opinion so 
much desired by friends, incautiously ex- 
cited, and perhaps so long meditated by the 
veteran statesman himself. These debates 
show, among other things, that the framers 
of the Constitution failed to pass a resolve 
giving to Congress the express power of 
chartering corporations. The importunities 
of friends, powerfully aided by the very 
nataral bias of personal resentments, induced 
hina to seize on this as the pretext for a 
change; and as conviction is not difficult 
where inclination leads the way, the change 
was easily accomplished and was soon an- 
nounced. This account of so stransre a 
revulsion of opinion, once, in the zenith of 
inteliect and of life, deeply entertained and 
cherished, is fully confirmed both by his 
own pithy letter to the editor of the Savan- 
nah Aepuhlican^ and by the admission of 
Mr. Dudlev in the sketch to which we have 
elsewhere briefly adverted. It is an account 
well worthy of nice and scrutinous examina- 
tion ; and we should scarcely deem our task 
to be £urly fulfilled did we not address an 
«'fibrt to that effect The justice of history 
requires, esi)ocially at the hand of impartial 
and candid reviewers, to be fully vindicated 
in connection with one whose opinions will in- 
evitably exercise groat influence with the fu- 
ture generations of the Republic, as th?y have 
eminently done with those of his own times. 

It is true that the Convention of 1787 
failed to engraft within the express powers 
of the Federal Constitution the power of 
chartering corporations. But it is equally 
true that a proposition to invest Cougiess 
with the direct power of erecting foi-ts, ar- 
senals, and dock-yards, also failed.* And 
yet Congress has always exercised, and must 
continue to exercise both powers. The 
principle of implication reaches and covers 
both cases, and we contend that Crawford's 
own argument, to prove the existence of im- 
plied powei-s, is irrefutable. The context 
and tone of the Constitution tend clearly to 
show that only general and cardinal powers 
were intended to be expressly granted ; for 
to have burthened a written form of govern- 
ment with the distinct recitation of every 
grant necessary to put in operation tlie 
whole machinery of legislation, would have 
been to swell the present admirable limits of 
the Constitution into crude, indigestible, and 
impracticable dimensioas, would have sheared 
it of that remarkable simplicity and com- 
prehensiveness which render it so acces- 
sible and practical, and would have entailed 
upon the country a tome of Institutes 4t 
Pandects as intricate as those of Justinian, 
instead of establishing a constitution as the 
fountain from which to draw all proper 
laws. The grant " to regulate commerce" is 
an elementary and cardinal grant of power, 
and needs to be amplified by all proper 
species of legislation tending to promote the 
ends of commerce, in order that it may be 
rendered tangible and operative. 80 also 
with the power " to establish ])ost-offices." 
A post-office would not be desirable without 
the supervision of a postmaster; and this 
officer, by the will of Congress acting under 
the implied power drawn from this clause, is 
appointed by the Executive or his cabinet. 
These two instances are sufficient to show 
the nature and character of the Constitu- 
tion, and fullv establish Crawford's own for- 
mer position, **that the enumeration of cer- 
tain powers does not exclude all other powei-s 
not enumerfited." 

How then could the bare fact, that the 
Federal Convention of 1787 had rejected a 
proposition to invest Conj^rcss with the ex- 
irress power of chartering corporations, whilo 
the same Convention had rejected similar 

* Viz. : in the rejection of Pinkney's draft The 
power was afterwards made an iiu-idental one. 


Review of the Life and TimeB of 


propositions as applied to other enumerated 
grants, and while his own argument on the 
point, more than twenty years previously, 
still remained without answer, — how could 
this naked fact operate to produce a change 
of opinion so sudden and wonderful in Craw- 
ford's mind, as regarded the constitutional- 
ity of the Bank ? A change on this point 
involves a change of all his former ideas 
concerning: the character and context of the 
Federal Constitution ; and the fact that the 
Convention had rejected the proposition to 
insert, directly^ the power to erect forts, 
arsenals, and dock-yards, similarly construed 
with the fact which induced his change of 
opinion on the Bank question, would have 
compelled him to deny all such powers to 
Congress. The labors and the reflections of 
his whole political career, directed, as they 
were, with an energy and talent that never 
stopped short of complete satisfaction, would 
thus have been forced to succumb to the 
unsettled impress'ons of an intellect, shorn 
by disease of its meridian strength and lustre, 
and naturally impaired, to some extent, by 
^ng retirement, and premature old age. Our 
Iq miration for Crawford's character and tal- 
ents, our sincere respect for that greatness 
which filled the world with his fame, would 
forbid us rashly to yield the ability of the 
splendid argument which distinguished his 
Senatorial career, to the less studied and un- 
digested opinions of his latter years. 

There are, moreover, very strong reasons 
for supposing that this fact, alleged in after 
yeais as the cause of his change of opinion 
on the constitutionahty of the Bank, could 
not have weighed very heavily with him at 
the period of 1 8 1 1 . He may not have then 
examined its history as minutely as he did 
afterwards ; but the fact that such proposi- 
tion had been rejected in the Convention, 
was evidently before him. It was alluded 
to in the debates which first occurred in 
connection with the charter of the Bank in 
1791. It was incidentally brought up in 
answer to his own speech of 1811. His 
investigations must have brought the fact to 
his eye in the elaborate opinions officially 
submitted by Edmund Randolph and Jeffer- 
son, wlion required to do so as cabinet offi- 
cers by President Washington ; not to name 
that of Hamilton, who argues the point at 
considerable length. The contents of these 
papers were known well to the poUticians of 
the Revolutionary era. Besides, Crawford 

was in the habit of frequent interoonrse with 
members of the Convention who voted on 
the very question mooted, and from whom 
he must have learned the history of the 
proceeding. We yet find no allusion to 
the matter in either of his speeches ; and 
the fair conclusion is that the fact then 
weighed very lightly in his estimation. And 
why should it not ? How could it be re- 
garded in a serious view ? Ought not the 
Constitution to be decided on by the import 
of its own expressions ? Crawford was too 
astute a pohtician not to be aware of the 
evil consequences which might result, if an 
obscure and scantily reported history, as to 
certain matters which occurred in the Con- 
vention, shall govern the construction of the 
Constitution. The instrument, like all other 
written forms, is entitled to a &irer and less 
attenuated measure. All must admit that 
there are incidental powers belonging to the 
Constitution. If the conclusion shaU, there- 
fore, be, that because some incidental poweiB 
are expressed, (as those for erecting forts, 
dock-yards, <fec,) no others can be admitted, 
it would not only be contrary to the com- 
mon forms of construction, but would reduce 
the present Congress to the feebleness of the 
old one, which could exercise no powers not 
expressly granted, 

Crawford, even in his latter days, could 
not have questioned the power of Coi^rese 
to grant a charter of incorporation to the 
municipal body of Washington City. And 
yet no such power is expressly conferred by 
the Constitution. I^ because the Conven- 
tion rejected a proposition to insert the ex- 
press power to charter any incorporations, 
the Bank is unconstitutional, the same rule 
must hold good as concerns any other de- 
scription of incorporation. A corporation is 
the same, whether appUed to a bank or to a 
municipality ; and if the absence of express 
power constitutes a restriction, the rule must 
be universally apphed to all subjects of leg- 
islation coming under that head. Such a 
mode of reasoning would capsize the legis- 
lation of every State in the Union, as well 
as of the National Government. It must be 
remembered that the express power to char- 
ter banks or incorporations is not given in 
any State Constitution, any more than it is 
given in the Federal Constitution. 

But the vahdity of such a reason, as the 
basis of a radical change of opinion, may be 
impeached on other and stronger grounds. 


William H. Crawford, 


The mere rejection of a proposition to in- 
sert an express power to grant charters of 
iDoorporation, is not, a fortiori^ tbo evi- ! 
deuce of opimon, on the part of tlie framcrs, 
hostile to the proper exercise of such power. 
In arranging a fonn of government adapted 
to the growing and varying wants of a coun- 
try which bid fair, even then, to become a 
populous and an enterprising empire, it is 
fcaroely allowable to suppose that a Conven- 
tion would have assumed the responsibility 
of fixing as an immutable feature of the 
Constitution a special fiscal agent which, for 
better or for worse, was to be the perpetual 
depositary of the government funds. This 
would have been absurd. The Bank, in the 
proo^ of time and amidst the vicissitudes 
^of trade and commerce, might have been 
found less convenient as a disbursing agent 
than some other project. Tlie means by 
which national exigencies are to be provided 
for, national inconveniences obviated, na- 
ticmal prosperity advanced, are of such infi- 
nite variety, extent, and complicity, that there 
most of necessity be great latitude of discre- 
tion in the sel(K:tion and application of those 
meanff. The wisest course under such cir- 
conutances was, as the Convention fortu- 
nately decided on, to engraft a general 
dause based on necessity and propriety, 
leaving it to the judgment of the legislators 
of each succcediDg age to select the means 
of procedure. Besides, the deb<ates and 
proceedings of the Convention on the sub- 
ject of adopting the proposition in question, 
clearly show that its rejection wjis carried 
on numerous grounds, none of wliich refer 
to a decided opinion as to its incompatibility 
with tlie general powers belonging to the 
Constitution. Some friends of the Bank of 
North America, as it existed under cliaiter 
of the old Government, vot^d against the 
insertion of an express power to erect incoi- 
porations. Tlie Constitution had been, after 
much contention and struggling, nearly per- 

fected. The elements of opposition had 
sprung up at every step in its progress to 
fonuation. Each express power had been 
jealously argued. It was only after mutual 
concessions that opposing factions had coa- 
lesced on its main features. It was known 
tliat fierce and powerful opposition awaited 
the question of it** adoption before tlie peo- 
ple of the States. Every thing, therefore, 
which might tend to "feed this opposition 
was strictly excluded; and it is probable 
that, after agreeing upon the few express 
grants of cardinal power, the clause giving 
to Congiess the geiieral power to pass all 
laws necessary and proper to carry into ef- 
fect the express j>owers, united more difier- 
ences of sentiment in its support, and at 
the same time was intended to convey more 
extended import, than any clause of hko size 
ever united or conveyed before. 

Now it is well known that, throughout 
his entire pohtical career, Crawford had 
been distipguished by bold expansion of 
thought and liberality of opinions. Ho had 
been in advance of his friends and of his 
political party on all the great practical 
questions at issue. He had planned his ac- 
tion on these views, and never varied from 
their pursuit. The views we have here sot 
forth are deducible from his own speeches 
and reports to Congress ; and it is hardly to 
be presumed that his sagacious mind had, 
in its zenith, failed to take in and act upon 
their full scope. We cannot, therefore, con- 
sent that the foundations of his fame and 
greatness shall be thus undermined by ar- 
raying the prejudices of his latter yoare, as 
of superior authority to and against the 
splendid achievements of his meridian life. 
Leaving, then, these facts and reasonings to 
bo aj)i)reciated as may best chance, wo shall 
now proceed with the regular course of nar- 
rative. J. u. c. 

Long WOOD, Mi85». 




Disadvanta^ nf bemg Bom tn Otu^s Own OaunUy. 





Charles Lamb once presented to the 
world a capital and conclusive paper on 
the inconveniences of being hanged ; and, 
prompted by my own experiences, I shall 
be able to establish, I am pretty sure, that 
one might as well be hanged as 

This is broaching the matter too bluntly : 
I must approach the grand Quod Erat De- 
monstrandum with a little preparation. It 
will not do to state, in so many words, that 
it would have been more comfortable for me 
to have been born a Caribbean, with the 
privilege of wielding a club in my own de- 
fense; or a Choctaw, with the inalienable 
natural right of cleaving my enemy's skull 
with a tomahawk ; or a Hindoo, with idols 
of my own to worship, and not imposed 
on me by other nations, although they 
might be of wood ; or, in a word, any body 
else, or any where else, than a free RepubU- 
can citizen of this vast confederacy. I pro- 
pose to begin at the beginning, and to show, 
in my own simple history, the utter absurd- 
ity of being born an American ; that in 
the creation of an American Nature intends 
a huge joke; or, to sum up all in brief, 
that it may be fairly doubted, if not entirely 
demonstrated, whether, properly speaking, 
there is any such place as America. I am 
willing to admit that the title "America" 
does apj)ear in various geographies, gazet- 
teers, and other publications of a hke kind ; 
also, that there is a certain considerable su- 
perficial space marked off in many, perhaps 
in all of the maps or atlases in common use, 
which passes, also, under that designation : 
but whether there is any distinctive country, 
with its own proper customs, habits and self- 
relying asages, answering to that name, or 
any such characteristic creature, represent- 
ing such customs, habits and usages, called 
American, will appear or not, when we have 
advanced a little further in the subject. 
I was first led to entertain doubts in this 

way. It was the custom of my father — 
peace to his memory ! — to have me accom- 
pany him to the shop of the barber, where 
he submitted every other day to his quar- 
terly shaving. In these visits, it happened, 
not rarely, when the shop was well attended 
with customers, that I, a lad perhaps some 
five or six years of age, was prompted to 
mount a chair, and recite or improvise a 
brief oration on some current subject aris- 
ing at the moment ; and mj success was 
often so considerable that I received an hon- 
orary gratuity of a sixpenny piece — which 
altogether inspired me with the feeling that 
native talent was held in high esteem among 
my countrymen. This opinion I cherished 
and held fast to till my tenth year, when 
my mind was disturbed by the unusual 
commotion in the same shop at the an- 
nouncement of the death of the British Pre- 
mier, George Canning, and the appearance, 
shortly thereafter, in an honorary gilt firame, 
of a colored head of the said Canning, as- 
signed to the most conspicuous position on 
the wall. This shock was followed up with 
a pair of boots, purchased for my juvenile 
wearing, which I heard named Wellingtons, 
and which, vended as they were freely in 
my native city here of New-York, I learned 
were so named in honor of a distinguished 
general who had spent his life in fighting 
the battles of the English Government. 

As I grew in years evidences thickened 
upon me. To say nothing of Liverpool coal, 
Kidderminster carpets, and such indoor im- 
portations, I found the same shadow cross- 
ing my path in the pubUc streets, laid out 
by the same native corporation. I struck out 
to the east, and found myself rambling in 
Albion Place ; I wandered to the west, and 
landed in Abingdon Square ; I pushed for 
the north, and came square upon the snag 
of London Terrace. I used to rub my eyea 
and wonder whether I was in the New 


Diiodvantapes of being Bom in On^s Own Country. 


World or the Old ; and was afflicted with 
the uncomfortable sensation of the man who 
went to sleep in the mountains, and waking 
up after a twenty years' nap, opened his 
eyes under a Republican government, al- 
though his slumbers had begun under a 
royal rule. Mine was merely reversed : I 
fimcied I had slept backward to the good 
old times of George the Third, and was sur- 
prised to miss the statue of that excellent 
king from its old post of authority in the 
centre of the Bowling Green next to the 

When I had grown up to be old enough 
to take an interest in books, I found the 
time happy delusion still maintained. I 
pot ont my hand, as I suppose boys do 
in other countries, to seize upon some bal- 
lad, history or legend connected with the 
fcrtnnes of my own people ; and I found 
twenty busy gentlemen zealously filling it 
with English publications. Whatever my 
hnmor might be, to laugh or weep, for a 
gfimpse of high life or low, for verse or 
proee, there was always one of these indus- 
trious gentlemen at my side, urging on my 
attention a book by some writer a great 
wsy off, which had no more to do with my 
own proper feelings or the sentiments of my 
oonntiy than if they had been Persian or 
Patagonian — only they were in the Eng- 
lish language, always English. I said to 
myself^ as I began to consider these mutters, 
m take to the newspapers ; surely these, as 
belonging to the country, i)ublislied in the 
oonntry, and hymen like myself, must make 
me ample amends for being practised upon 
in the bound books : I will read the news- 
papers. Never was boy, thirsting after 
patriotic reading, more completely duped. 
One after the other, here were police reports, 
with slang phrases that certainly never ori- 
^nated in any of the courts or prisons of 
the New World ; elaborate accounts of prize 
fights and cricket matches, and what not of 
that sort; and withal, such an out])Ouring 
of smail-beer scandal and little nastv vitu- 
peration of my decent fellow-citizens, that 
the shadow fell upon my spirit again, and 
I was more than ever clear upon the j)oint, 
that whoever had the naming of this quarter 
of the globe in the maps and gazetteei-s had 
dearly committed an egregious mistake in 
calling it America: he should have named 
h little Britain. 
In spite of these discouraging convictions, 

I saw that the people about me were given 
to laughter, and, in a way of their own, had 
something of a relish for merriment I 
have it at last^ I said to myself : they let 
these heavy dogs of Englishmen name their 
streets and edit their newspapers ; but when 
they come to any thing elegant, sportive and 
cheerful, they take the matter into their own 
hands. TU go to the Museum and see what 
the Americans, my fellow-countr^^men, are 
about there. Will you believe it? — m 
I live, the firet object I encountered in the 
hall was the cast-ofF state-coach of her Ma- 
jesty Queen Victoria, so blocking up the 
way that I made no attempt to advance 
farther; but, turning on my heel, I deter- 
mined to indemnify myself at one of the 
theatres. I struck for the nearest, and, as 
if in consj)iracy with the state-coach, the 
first notes I caught from the orchestra were 
" God save the Queen," played with great 
energy by the musiciaiLS, and vigorously ap- 
plauded by a j)ortion of the audience. I 
tried another house immediately, where I 
was entertained during my short stiy by an 
old gentleman in a wig, (unlike any other 
old gentleman I had ever seen hi my life,) 
who was denouncing some body or other, 
not then visible, as having conducted himself 
in a manner altogether unworthy an " honest 
son of r>ritain ! " There wius still another 
loft to mo — a popular resort — wliere flang- 
ing bills, staring mo in the face every time I 
passed, had promi.^^ed abundant " novelty 
suited to the times." I have vou at last, me- 
thought ; you cannot escape me now ; this 
is the theatre for my money. What was 
my astonishment, on entering and i)asses8- 
ing myself of one of the small bills of the 
evening, to discover that they had taken one 
of those new lx»oks 1 had come away from 
home to avoid, and made a play of it: 
it was really too much jiartridgo by a long 
shot. There was not a mouthful of fresh 
air, it would seem, to bo had for love or 
money : the moment I oj^onod my mouth, 
wherever it might bo, at home or abroad, 
for health or pleasure, those busy diotarians 
were ready with thoir everlasting })artridge, 
to gorge mo to the throat. 

Where was the use of repining ? Time 
heals all wounds of the youthful s])irit I 
grew to man's estate. Now (said I, chuck- 
ling to myself at the thought) I will set 
this matter right. These men mean well : 
they would give just what you desire, but, 


DUadvantages of being Bern in (Ma Own Country, 


poor fellows, they haven't it to give. That 
(I continued to myself) is easily settled : Fll 
write a play and present it to them : I will 
take an American subject, (allowing, for the 
nonce, that there is such a place as America;) 
I will represent a man of character, a hero, 
a patriot. I will place him in circumstances 
deeply interesting to the country, and to 
which the republican feeliug of the country 
shall raspond with a cheer. No sooner 
thought than done. The play was written : 
an American historical play. With some 
little art a hearing was procured from one 
of these gentlemen — a stage-manager, as 
they call him. I stuflfed him, that all the 
pipes and organs of his system might be in 
tune, with a good dinner; which he did not 
disdain, although I may mention that the 
greens were raised in Westchester, and the 
ducks shot on the Sound. I announced the 
title and subject, and proceeded to read : 
during this business he seemed to be great- 
ly moved. At the conclusion of the MS. I 
found my manager in a much less comforts- 
able humor than at the table. In a word, 
with ill-concealed disdain, he pronounced 
the play a failure, and wondered that any 
body would spend his time on subjects so 
unworthy the English Drama, as little pro- 
vincial squabbles like those of American 
History. lie was right : American History 
is not a suitable subject for the English 
Drama. With doubts still thickening in 
my mind whether this was America, I paid 
the reckoning, thrust my play in my pocket, 
and hurried home, anxious to consult some 
authentic chronicle to make sure whether 
there had been such an event as the Revolu- 
tionary War. Such an event was certainly 
there set down, at considerable length, and 
one George Washington was mentioned as 
having taken part in it The printed book 
I road from was called the History of the 
United States ; but from all I could see, 
hear, and learn, daily, about me, the United 
States so referred to was decidedly non-ex- 
istent, at least so far as I had yet pushed my 

But I did not, even now, altogether de- 
spair. I said again. Perhaps I am limiting 
myself to too humble a range of observation ; 
why should I confine myself to the city of 
New- York, Empire City though it be, and 
•capital of this great Western Continent? I 

will change the scene ; I will go a journey ; 
I will strike for Bunker Hill : if I find that, 
all is safe. Boston is not at the end of the 
earth, nor is one a lifetime in getting there. 
I found Bunker Hill : I could not easily 
miss it, for there was a great pile of stones, 
a couple of hundred feet high, which a blind 
man could not have missed if he had been 
travelling that way. You are mistaken, 
young man, (I again addresAed myself, as I 
contemplated the granite pyramid:) Uiere 
has been a Revolutionary War : the Ameri- 
can colonies fought it, and after a severe 
struggle, great waste of blood, treasure, and 
counsel of wise men, they severed them- 
selves from the Mother Country, and they 
were free ! The little grievances which have 
irked you, such as names of streets, play- 
houses, and such trifles, are scarcely worthy 
of consideration : politically you are free. 
You have your own political institutions, 
with which no stranger can intermeddle : 
what more could you ask ? 

I was hugging myself in this comfortable 
conviction, pacing proudly in the shadow of 
Faneuil Hall, that venerable cradle of our 
boasted Independence, when a boy placed 
in my hand an "extra" sheet, from which 
I learned that a steamer had just arrived 
from England, and had that moment land- 
ed on the very wharf of Boston where the 
tea was dumped, an emissary, apparently 
authorized by the Mother Country, for he 
was a member of the British Parliament, 
who had come to resume in due form the 
old political authority of the Mother Country, 
and to direct us ex caihedrd in the regula- 
tion of those very political concerns of which 
we fancied we had acquired the exclusive 
control by fighting through that old Revo- 
lutionary War. You see, my dear Mr. Editor, 
>it was all a mistake : the whole thinor is a 
cunningly devised fable ; there was no such 
contest as the Revolutionary War ; there 
was no such man as George Washington, 
(facetiously represented as the father of his 
country;) and there is no such country as 
America. The sooner we reconcile ourselves 
to the facts the more comfortable we shall 
all be. Christopher Columbus, in the order 
of Providence, was a grand mistake ; at least 
such is the settled and unshakable opinion 
of your obedient servant, 

Bhllerophon Brown. 


ITjeff and Abuses cf Lynch Lav. 



No. III. 

Blakb found the Mississippi conspirators i 
finn in their bad purpose, and willing to | 
second him; but those of the adjoining 
8tates were terror-stricken and demurred, 
U) that he was forced to confine his o])era- 
tioRs to the former. 

Every preparation was mado, and the whole 
affiur actually conducted to witliin eight days 
4if the proposed crisis, when an exposure 
took place. A lady residing in Livingston 
county, who had been indua^d to watch her 
•laves very closely, from a singular altera- 
tion in their demeanor, overheard a conver- 
sation between two of them on the night of 
the 26th June, which filled her with terror 
and apprehension. She immediately in- 
fermed her son, and one of the parties, a 
eirl, was summoned into the house, in- 
formed of what had been already heard, 
and finally induced to confess. 

The information was laid before the 
•* Committee of Safety" of the county, early 
the next morning, and they proceeded to in- 
vestigate tiie subject in the most active man- 
ner. The knowledge of the conspiracy was 
traced back to four slaves, who WiTc the 
ringleaders among the negroes, two of them 
preachers ; and their guilt being fully estab- 
lished, they were hung. 

Up to this moment no «igency of a white 
man had been dL<%covered ; but on the nt'xt 
day further information was furnished the 
Committee, and then through this s< cond 
channel they at last reached the fountain- 
head of the mischief. 

Our space prevents us from describing 
the scenes that followed, but we will glance 
at the proceedings in Livingston. 

Witn every certainty of the correct and 
forcible administration of the law, there 
would have been now no time for its formal 
delays; but knowing as the citizens did 
that they stood as it were upon a volcano 
ready to explode, that the law was utterly 
impotent in the premises, and tliat no man 
eoald be depended upon save him who 
went heart and hand witli them in crushing 
the conspiracy in its bud, but one course 
was open. The Committee did all that 

could have been expected from thorn. As 
fair a trial as it was possible for them to give, 
was allowed the accused. The Governor of 
the Stiite wiis consulted, and issued a procla- 
mation approving of their proceedings. 

Tho most importiint conspirators that 
were living in Livingston were Kuel Hlake, 
Cotton, Saunders, Donovan, and Dean. A 
man named Lee Smith was found guilty of 
some knowledge of the plot^ but allowed to 
depart upon the condition that he would 
leave the State. He fell into the hands of 
the infuriated citizens of llinds countv, and 
wjis slain. Two Earls were also arrested, 
and made confessions. One hung himself 
in his cell, and the other was sent to Vicks- 
burg, and we believe escaped. 

The guilt of these men was proved by tho 
most clear and in