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^a-/M.  3 


tiarvarD  Colleoe  Xibrar)^ 

FKOM 


THE 


MASSACHUSETTS    QUARTERLY 


REVIEW. 


VOL.    II. 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED  BY  COOLIDGE  St,  WILEY, 

No.    12    WATBB    8TBBIT, 
1849 


-zi'i-.s 


CONTENTS. 


V. 

Akt.  I.  The  Political  Destination  of  Amemca,  1 ' 

n.  Legality  of  American  Slavery,   -    -    -  32 

in.  Th5  Law  of  Evidence, 39 

IV.  The  Works  of  Walter  Savage  Landor,  63 

V.  A  New  Theory  of  the  Effect  of  the  Tides,  77 

VI.  Postal  Reijorm, 82 

Vn.  The  Free  Soil  Movement, 105 

VIII.  Short  Reviews  and  Notices,     -    -    -    -  126 

9  VI. 

^^i^y'hi^,  L  The  German  Revolution  of  1848,     -    -  137 

n.  The  Eternity  of  God, 183 

in.  Discovery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen,  189 

IV.  Mr.  Prescott  as  an  Historian,     -    -    -  215  ^ 

V.  Oxford  Poetry, 249 

VI.  Short  Reviews  and  Notices,     -    -    -    -  253 

vn. 

..    '3-  Art.  I.  The  Methodology  of  Mesmerism,      -    -  273 

-  n.  The  Ocean,  and  its  Meaning  in  Nature,  308 

m.  Macaulay's  History  of  England,      -    -  326 

IV.  Short  Reviews  and  Notices,     -    -    -    -  866 

vm. 

^/Tj.'t-v.ABT.  I.  The  Methodologj  of  Mesmerism,      -    -  401 

n.  The  Poetry  of  Keats, 414 

m.  Prichard's  Natural  History  of  Man,  -  428 

rv.  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico,    -    -    -  437  - 

V.  Angelus  Silesius, 471 

VT.  Recent  Defences  of  Slavery,  -    -    -    -  487 

vn.  Ruskin's  Seven  Lamps  of  Architbcturb,  514 

VIU.  Short  Reviews  and  NoncBS,     -    -    -    -  520 


MASSACHUSETTS  QUARTERLY  REVIEW. 

NO.  v.  — DECEMBER,  1848. 


Art.  I.— the  POLITICAL  DESTINATION  OF  AMER- 
ICA,  AND  THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES. 

Evert  nation  has  a  pecniiar  character,  in  which  it  difiers 
from  all  others  that  have  been,  that  are,  and  possibly  from  all 
that  are  to  come,  for  it  does  not  jet  appear  that  the  Divine 
Fattier  of  the  nations  ever  repeats  himself  and  creates  eitiier 
two  nations  or  two  men  exactly  alike.  However,  as  nations, 
like  men,  agree  in  more  things  than  thej  differ,  and  in  obvious 
things  too,  the  special  pecntiaritj  of  any  one  tribe  does  not 
always  appear  at  first  sight.  But  if  we  look  through  the  his- 
tory of  some  nation  which  has  passed  off  from  the  stage  of 
action,  we  find  certain  prevailing  traits  which  continuallly  re- 
appear in  the  language  and  laws  thereof;  in  its  arts,  literature, 
manners,  modes  of  religion — in  short,  in  the  whole  life  of  the 
people.  The  most  prominent  tiling  in  the  history  of  the  He- 
brews is  their  Continual  Trust  in  God,  and  this  marks  them 
from  their  first  appearance  to  the  present  day.  They  have 
accordingly  done  litfle  for  art,  science,  philosophy,*  littie  for 
commerce  and  the  useful  arts  of  life,  but  much  for  Religion 
—  and  the  psalms  they  sung  two  or  three  thousand  years  ago 
are  at  this  day  the  Hymns  and  Prayers  of  the  whole  Christian 
world.  Three  great  historical  forms  of  religion — Judaism, 
Christianity,  and  Mahometanism — aU  have  proceeded  from 
them. 

He  that  looks  at  the  Ionian  Greeks  finds  in  their  story  al- 
ways  the  same  prominent  characteristic— a  Devotion  to  what  is 
Beautiful.  Tins  appears  often  to  the  neglect  of  what  is  true, 
right,  and  therefore  holy.  Hence,  while  they  have  done  littie 
for  reli^on,  their  literature,  architecture,  sculpture,  furnish  ua 

NO.  V.  ] 


2  Political  Destination  of  America.  [Dec. 

with  models  never  surpassed,  and  perhaps  not  equalled.  Yet 
they  lack  the  ideal  aspiration  after  ReUgion  that  appears  in 
the  literature  and  art,  and  even  language  of  some  other  people, 
quite  inferior  to  the  Greeks  in  elegance  and  refinement.  Sci- 
ence, also,  is  most  largely  indebted  to  these  beauty-loving 
Greeks,  for  Truth  is  one  form  of  Loveliness. 

If  we  take  the  Romans,  from  Romulus  their  first  king,  to 
Augustulus  the  last  of  the  Caesars,  the  same  traits  of  national 
character  appear,  only  the  complexion  and  dress  thereof 
changed  by  curcumstances.  There  is  always  the  same  hard- 
ness and  materialism,  the  same  skill  in  organizing  men,  the 
same  turn  for  affitirs  and  genius  for  legblation.  Rome  bor- 
rowed her  theology  and  liturgical  forms;  her  art,  science, 
literature,  philosophy,  and  eloquence ;  even  her  art  of  war  was 
^m  imitation.  But  Law  sprung  up  indigenous  in  her  soil ;  her 
laws  are  the  best  gift  she  offers  to  the  Human  Race,  —  the 
^^  monument  more  lasting  than  brass  "  which  she  has  left  be- 
hind her. 

We  may  take  another  nation,  which  has  by  no  means  com- 
pleted its  history,  the  Saxon  race,  from  Hengist  and  Horsa  to 
Sir  Robert  Peel :  there  also  is  a  permanent  peculiarity  in  the 
tribe.  They  are  yet  the  same  bold,  hardy,  practical  people 
as  when  then:  bark  first  touched  the  savage  shores  of  Britain ; 
not  over  religious ;  less  pious  than  moral ;  not  so  much  upright 
before  God,  as  downright  before  men;  servants  of  the  Under- 
standing more  than  children  of  Reason ;  not  following  the 
guidance  of  an  intuition,  and  the  light  of  an  Idea,  but  rather 
trusting  to  experiment,  facts,  precedents,  and  usages;  not 
philosophical,  but  commercial ;  warlike  through  strength  and 
courage,  not  from  love  of  war  or  its  glory;  material,  obstinate, 
and  grasping,  with  the  same  admiration  of  horses,  dogs,  oxen, 
and  strong  drink;  the  same  willingness  to  tread  down  any 
obstacle,  material,  human,  or  divine,  which  stands  in  their  way ; 
the  same  impatient  lust  of  wealth  and  power ;  the  same  dispo- 
sition to  colonize  and  reannex  other  lands ;  the  same  love  of 
Liberty  and  love  of  Law;  the  same  readiness  in  forming 
political  confederations.. 

In  each  of  these  four  instances  the  Hebrews,  the  lonians, 
the  Romans,  and  the  Anglo-Saxon  race  have  had  a  nationality 
so  strong,  that  while  they  have  mingled  with  other  nations  in 
commerce  and  in  war,  as  victors  and  vanquished,  they  have 
stoutly  held  their  character  through  all ;  they  have  thus  modi- 
fied feebler  nations  joined  with  them.     To  take  the  last, 


1848.]  Political  Destination  of  America.  8 

neither  the  Britons  nor  the  Danes  affected  very  much  ttie 
character  of  the  Anglo-Saxons ;  they  never  turned  it  out  of 
its  course.  The  Normans  gave  the  Saxon  manners,  refinement, 
letters,  elegance.  The  Anglo-Saxon  bishop  of  the  eleventh 
century,  dressed  in  untanned  sheep  skins,  ^^  the  woolly  side  out 
and  ttie  fleshy  side  in ; "  he  ate  cheese  and  flesh,  drank  milk 
and  mead.  The  Norman  taught  him  to  wear  cloth,  to  eat 
also  bread  and  roots,  to  drink  wine.  But  in  other  respects  the 
Norman  left  him  as  he  found  him.  England  has  received  her 
kings  and  her  nobles  from  Normandy,  Anjou,  the  Provence, 
Scotland,  Holland,  Hanover — often  seeing  a  foreigner  as- 
cend her  throne ;  yet  the  sturdy  Anglo-Saxon  character  held 
its  own,  spite  of  the  new  element  infused  into  its  blood :  change 
the  ministries,  change  the  dvnasties  often  as  they  will,  John  Bull 
is  obstinate  as  ever,  and  himself  changes  not ;  no  philosophy 
or  religion  makes  him  less  material.  No  nation  but  the  Eng- 
Ush  could  have  produced  a  Hobbes,  a  Hume,  a  Paley,  or  a 
Bentham,  —  they  are  all  instancial  and  not  exceptional  men  in 
that  race. 

Now  this  idiosyncrasy  of  a  nation  is  a  sacred  gift;  like 
the  genius  of  a  Bums,  a  Thorwaldsen,  a  Franklin,  or  a  Bow- 
ditch  :  it  is  given  for  some  divine  purpose,  to  be  sacredly  cher^ 
ished  and  patientlv  unfolded.  The  cause  of  the  peculiarities 
of  a  nation  or  an  mdividual  man  we  cannot  fully  determine  as 
yet,  and  so  we  refer  it  to  the  chain  of  causes  which  we  call 
Providence.  But  the  national  persistency  in  a  common  type 
is  easily  explsdned.  The  qualities  of  father  and  mother  are 
commonly  transmitted  to  their  children,  but  not  always,  for 
peculiarities  may  lie  latent  in  a  family  for  generations,  and  re- 
appear in  the  genius  or  the  folly  of  a  child — often  in  the  com- 
plexion and  features :  and  besides,  father  and  mother  are  often 
no  match.  But  such  exceptions  are  rare,  and  the  qualities  of 
a  race  are  always  thus  reproduced,  the  deficiency  of  one  man 
getting  counterbalanced  by  the  redundancy  of  the  next :  the 
marriages  of  a  whole  tribe  are  not  far  from  normal. 

Some  nations,  it  seems,  perish  through  defect  of  this  na- 
tional character,  as  individuals  fail  of  success  through  excess 
or  deficiency  in  their  character.  Thus  the  Celts,  —  that  great 
flood  of  a  nation  which  once  swept  over  Germany,  France, 
England,  and,  casting  its  spray  far  over  the  Alps,  at  one  time 
threatened  destruction  to  Rome  itself, — seem  to  have  been  so 
filled  with  Love  of  Individual  Independence  that  they  could 


4  Political  DestinaUon  of  America.  [Dec. 

never  accept  a  minute  organization  of  human  Rights  and 
Duties,  and  so  their  children  would  not  group  themselves  into 
a  City,  as  other  races,  and  submit  to  a  strong  central  power, 
which  should  curb  individual  will  enough  to  ensure  National 
Unity  of  Action,  Perhaps  this  was  once  the  excellence  of  the 
Celts,  and  thereby  they  broke  the  trammels  and  escaped  from 
the  theocratic  or  despotic  traditions  of  earlier  and  more  savage 
times,  developmg  the  Power  of  the  Individual  for  a  time,  and 
the  energy  of  a  nation  loosely  bound ;  but  when  they  came  in 
contact  with  the  Romans,  Franks,  and  Saxons,  they  melted 
away  as  snow  in  April — only,  like  that,  remnants  thereof  yet 
lingering  in  the  mountiuns  and  islands  of  Europe.  No  extern 
nal  pressure  of  £&mine  or  political  oppression  can  hold  the 
Celts  in  Ireland  together,  or  give  them  national  unity  of  action 
enough  to  resist  the  Saxon  foe.  Doubtless  in  other  days  this 
very  peculiarity  of  the  Irish  has  done  the  world  some  service. 
Nations  succeed  each  other  as  races  of  animals  in  the  geologi- 
cal epochs,  and  like  them,  also,  perish  when  their  work  is  done. 

The  peculiar  character  of  a  nation  does  not  appear  nakedly, 
without  relief  and  shadow.  As  the  waters  of  tiie  Rhone,  in 
coming  from  the  moimtains,  have  caught  a  stain  from  the 
soils  they  have  traversed  which  mars  the  cerulean  tinge  of  tiie 
mountain  snow  that  gave  them  birth,  so  the  peculiarities  of 
each  nation  become  modified  by  the  circumstances  to  which  it 
is  exposed,  though  the  fundamental  character  of  a  nation,  it 
seems,  has  never  been  changed.  Only  when  the  blood  of  the 
nation  is  changed  by  additions  from  another  stock  is  the  idio- 
syncrasy altered. 

Now,  while  each  nation  has  its  peculiar  Genius  or  character 
which  does  not  change,  it  has  also  and  accordingly  a  particular 
Work  to  perform  in  the  economy  of  the  world,  a  certain  Fundar 
mental  Idea  to  unfold  and  develop.  This  is  its  national  task,  for 
in  God's  world,  as  in  a  shop,  there  is  a  regular  division  of  labor. 
Sometimes  it  is  a  limited  work,  and  when  it  is  done  the  nation 
may  be  dismissed,  and  go  to  its  repose.  Nbn  omnia  posmmus 
omnes  is  as  true  of  nations  as  of  men ;  one  has  a  genius  for 
one  thing,  another  for  something  different,  and  the  Idea  of 
each  nation  and  its  special  Woric  will  depend  on  the  Genius  of 
the  nation.    Men  do  not  gather  grapes  of  thorns. 

In  addition  to  this  specific  genius  of  the  nation  and  its 
corresponding  work,  there  are  also  various  Accidental  or  Sub- 
ordinate Qualities,  which  change  with  circumstances,  and  so 
vary  the  nation's  aspect  that  its  peculiar  genius  and  peculiar 


1848.]  Political  DtBtination  of  America.  5 

duty  are  often  hid  from  its  own  conscioosness,  and  even  obscured 
to  tiiat  of  the  philosophic  looker  on.  These  subordinate  pecur 
liaritios  will  depend  first  on  the  peculiar  Genius,  Idea,  and 
Work  of  the  nation,  and  next  on  the  Transient  Circumstances 
—  geographical,  climactic,  historical,  and  secular  — to  which 
the  nation  has  been  exposed.  The  past  helped  form  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  present  age,  and  they  the  character  of  the 
men  now  living.  Thus  new  modifications  of  the  national  tjpe 
continually  take  place  ;  new  variations  are  played,  but  on  the 
same  old  strings  and  of  the  same  old  tune.  Once  circum- 
stances made  the  Hebrews  entirely  agricultural,  now  as  com- 
pletely commercial ;  but  the  same  Trust  in  Ood,  the  same 
iTational  Exclusiveness  appear,  as  of  old.  As  one  looks  at 
Uie  history  of  the  lonians,  Romans,  Saxons,  he  sees  Unity  of 
National  Character,  a  Continuity  of  Idea  and  of  Work ;  but  it 
appears  in  the  midst  of  Variety,  for  while  these  remained  ever 
the  same  to  complete  the  economy  of  the  world,  subordinate 
qualities — sentiments,  ideas,  actions  —  changed  to  suit  the 
passmg  hour.  The  nation's  course  was  laid  towards  a  certain 
pomt,  but  they  stood  to  the  right  hand  or  the  left,  they  sailed 
with  much  canvas  or  little,  and  swift  or  slow,  as  the  winds  and 
waves  compelled ; — nay,  sometimes  the  national  ship  "  heaves 
to,"  and  lies  with  her  ^^  head  to  the  wind,"  regardless  of  her 
dcMBtination ;  but  when  the  storm  is  overblown  resumes  her 
course.  Men  will  carelessly  think  the  ship  has  no  certain  aim, 
but  only  drifts. 

The  most  marked  characteristic  of  the  American  nation  is  I 
LovB  oy  Frbbdom;  op  Man's  Natural  Riouts.    This  is" 
so  plain  to  a  student  of  American  History,  or  of  American 
Politics,  that  the  point  requires  no  arguing.     We  have  a  Ge- 
nius for  liberty:   the  American  idea  is  Freedom,  Natural 
Rights.    Accoidingly,  the  work  providentially  laid  out  for  us  / 
to  do  seems  this:  to  organize  the  Rights  op  Man.    This* 
is  a  problem  hitherto  unattempted  on  a  national  scale,  in 
human  history.     Often  enough  attempts  have  been  made  to 
organize  the  Powers  of  Priests,  Kings,  Nobles,  in  a  Theoc- 
racy, Monarchy,  Oligarchy — powers  which  had  no  foundation 
in  human  Duties,  or  human  Rights,  but  solely  in  the  selfishness 
of  strong  men.    Often  enough  have  the  Mights  of  Men  been 
organized,  but  not  the  Ri^ts  of  Man.     Surely  there  has 
never  been  an  attempt  made  on  a  national  scale  to  organize 
the  Rights  of  Man  as  Man,  Rights  restmg  on  the  nature  of 


6  PolUicdl  DestdnaUan  of  America.  [Dec. 

things  ;  Bights  derived  from  no  conventional  compact  of  men 
with  men ;  not  inherited  from  past  generations,  nor  received 
from  Parliaments  and  Kings,  or  secured  by  their  parchments, 
— but  Rights  that  are  derived  stwdghtway  from  God,  —  the 
Author  of  Duty  and  the  Source  of  Right,  —  and  which  are 
secured  in  the  Great  Charter  of  our  Being. 

At  first  view  it  will  be  said,  the  peculiar  genius  of  America 
is  not  such,  nor  such  her  fundamental  idea,  nor  that  her  des- 
tined work.  It  is  true  that  much  of  the  national  conduct 
seems  exceptional  when  measured  by  that  standard,  and  the 
nation's  course  as  crooked  as  the  Rio  Grande  ;  it  is  true  that 
America  sometimes  seems  to  spurn  Liberty,  and  sells  the 
freedom  of  three  million  men  for  less  than  three  million  an- 
nual bales  of  cotton ;  —  true,  she  often  tramples,  knowingly, 
consciously  tramples,  on  the  most  unquestionable  and  sacred 
Rights.  Yet,  when  one  looks  through  the  whole  character 
and  history  of  America  —  spite  of  the  exceptions,  nothmg 
comes  out  with  such  relief  as  this  Love  of  Freedom,  this  Idea 
of  liberty,  thb  attempt  to  organize  Right.  There  are  numer- 
ous subordinate  qualities  which  conflict  with  the  nation's  Idea 
and  work,  coming  from  our  circumstances,  not  our  soul,  as 
well  as  many  others  which  help  the  nation  perform  her  provi- 
dential work.  They  are  Signs  of  the  Times,  and  it  is  impor- 
tant to  look  carefully  at  the  most  prominent  among  them, 
where,  indeed,  one  finds  striking  contradictions. 

The  first  is  an  Impatience  of  Authority.  Every  thing 
must  render  its  reason,  and  show  cause  for  its  being.  We 
will  not  be  commanded,  at  least  only  by  such  as  we  choose 
to  obey.  Does  some  one  say,  "  Thou  shalt,"  or  "  Thou  shalt 
not,"  we  ask,  "  Who  are  you  ?  "  Hence  comes  a  seeming 
irreverence.  The  shovel  hat,  —  the  symbol  of  authority,  — 
which  awed  our  fathers,  is  not  respected  imless  it  covers  a 
man,  and  then  it  is  the  man  we  honor,  and  no  longer  the 
shovel  hat.  "  I  will  complain  of  you  to  the  government ! " 
said  a  Prussian  nobleman  to  a  Yankee  stage^lriver,  who  un- 
civilly threw  the  nobleman's  trunk  to  the  top  of  the  coach. 
"  Teil  the  government  to  go  to  the  Devil ! "  was  the  symbol- 
ical reply. 

Old  precedents  will  not  suffice  \is,  for  we  want  something 
anterior  to  all  precedents ;  we  go  beyond  what  is  written, 
asking  the  cause  of  the  precedent,  and  the  reason  of  the 
writing.    "  Our  fathers  did  so,"  says  some  one.    "  What  of 


1848.]  Political  Destination  of  America.  7 

timt?"  say  we.  *'Our  fathers  —  they  wcro  giants,  weM 
they  ?  Not  at  all^  only  great  boys,  and  wc  are  not  only  taller 
tluui  tbey,  but  mounted  on  tbeir  shoulders  to  boot,  and  seo 
twiee  fts  far.  My  dear  wise  man,  or  wiseacre,  it  is  we  that 
are  tbe  ancients,  and  have  forgotten  more  than  all  our  fathers 
knew*  We  will  take  their  wisdom  joyfully,  and  thank  God 
for  it,  but  not  their  aathorityj  —  we  know  better,  —  and  of 
tbeir  nonsense  not  a  word*  It  was  very  well  that  they  lived, 
and  it  is  very  well  that  tbey  are  dead*  Let  them  keG|j  de- 
cently buried,  for  resr>ee table  dead  men  never  walk,'* 

Tradition  does  not  satisfy  us,  Tbe  American  scholar  has 
no  folios  in  bis  library.  Tbe  antiquary  unrolls  bis  codex,  bid 
for  eighteen  hundred  years  in  tbe  ashes  of  Herculaneum,  de- 
dphe!^  its  fossil  wisdom,  telling  ua  what  great  men  thought 
in  tbe  bay  of  Naples,  and  two  thousand  years  a^o.  "  What 
do  you  tell  of  that  for?*'  is  the  answer  to  his  learning. 
**  What  has  Pythagoras  to  do  with  the  price  of  cotton  ?  You 
may  be  a  very  learned  man  ;  you  can  read  the  hieroglyphics 
of  Egypt,  I  dare  say,  and  know  so  much  about  the  Pharaohs, 
it  is  a  pity  you  had  not  lived  in  tbeir  time,  when  you  might 
have  been  good  for  something ;  but  you  are  too  old-fashioned 
for  our  busineaa,  and  may  return  to  your  dust***  An  emineni 
American,  a  student  of  Egyptian  history,  with  a  scholarly 
indignation  declared,  **  There  is  not  a  man  who  cares  to  know 
whetber  Shoophoo  lived  one  thousand  years  before  Christ,  or 
three/* 

The  example  of  other  and  ancient  states  does  not  terrify  or 
instruct  us*  If  Slavery  were  a  curse  to  Athens,  the  corrup- 
tion of  Corinth,  the  undoing  of  Eome, — ^and  all  history  shows 
it  was  90, — we  irill  learn  no  lesson  from  that  experience, 
for  we  say,  "We  arc  not  Athenians,  men  of  Corinth,  nor 
pagan  Romans,  thank  God,  but  free  Ropablicans,  Christians 
of  America.  Wo  live  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  though 
Slavery  worked  all  that  mischief  then  and  there,  we  know 
how  to  make  money  out  of  it — twelve  hundred  millions  of  dol- 
kra,  as  Mr.  Clay  counts  the  cash/* 

The  example  of  contemprary  nations  fumiabes  ns  little 
warning  or  guidance.  We  will  set  our  own  precedents,  and 
do  not  like  to  he  told  that  tbe  Prussians  or  the  Dutch  have 
Icarrjed  some  things  in  the  education  of  the  people  before  us^ 
which  wc  shall  do  well  to  learn  after  them.  So  when  a  good 
man  tells  us  of  their  schools  and  their  colleges,  "  patriotic" 
Hcbool  masters  exclaim,  '*  It  is  not  true  ;  our  schools  are  the 


8  Political  Deitinatian  qf  America.  [Dec. 

best  in  the  world  !  Bat  if  it  were  true,  it  is  unpatriotic  to 
say  80 ;  it  aids  and  comforts  the  enemy."  Jonadian  knows 
liUle  of  war ;  he  has  heard  his  grandfather  talk  of  Lexington 
and  Saratoga ;  he  thinks  he  should  like  to  have  a  little  touch  of 
battle  6n  his  own  account :  so  when  there  is  difficulty  in  setting 
up  the  fence  betwixt  his  estate  and  his  neighbours,  he  blusters 
fbr  a  while,,  talks  big,  and  threatens  to  stnke  his  father ;  but, 
not  having  quite  the  stomach  ibr  that  experiment,  falls  to  beatr 
ing  his  other  neighbour,  who  happens  to  be  poor,  weak,  and  of 
a  sickly  constitution ;  and  when  he  beats  her  at  every  step, — 

**  For 't  18  no  war,  as  each  one  knows, 
When  only  one  side  deals  the  blows, 
And  t'  other  bean  'em,"*— 

Jonathan  thinks  he  has  covered  himself  '^  with  imperishable 
honors,"  and  sets  up  his  general  for  a  great  king.  Poor  Jon- 
athan—  he  does  not  know  the  misery,  the  tears,  the  blood, 
the  shame,  the  wickedness,  snd  the  sin  he  has  set  a-gomg, 
and  which  one  day  he  is  to  account  fbr  with  God  who  forgets 
nothing! 

Yet  while  we  are  so  unwilling  to  accept  the  good  principles, 
to  be  warned  by  the  &te,  or  guided  bv  the  success,  of  other 
nations,  we  glacUy  and  servilely  copy  meir  faults,  their  follies, 
their  vice  and  sin.  like  all  upstarts,  we  pique  ourselves  oa 
our  imitation  of  aristocratic  ways.  How  many  a  blusterer  in 
Congress,  —  for  there  are  two  denominations  of  blusterers, 
differing  only  in  degree,  your  great  blusterer  in  Congress  and 
your  little  blusterer  in  a  bar-room,  —  has  roared  away  hours 
Wg  agdnst  aristocratic  influence,  in  favor  of  the  "pure 
democracy,"  while  he  plaved  the  oligarch  in  his  native  village, 
ihe  tyrant  over  his  hired  help,  and  though  no  man  knows 
who  his  grandfather  was,  spite  of  the  herald's  office,  conjures 
up  some  trumpery  coat  of  arms!  Like  a  clown,  who,  by 
jmiching  his  appetite,  has  bought  a  gaudy  cloak  for  Sabbam 
wearing,  we  chuckle  inwardly  at  our  brave  apery  of  foreign 
absurdities,  hoping  that  strangers  will  be  astonished  at  us  — 
which,  sure  enough,  comes  to  pass.  Jonathan  is  as  vain  as  he 
is  conceited,  and  expects  that  the  Fiddlers,  the  Dickenses,  and  i 
the  TroUopes,  who  visit  us  periodically  as  the  swallows,  and 
likewise  for  what  they  can  catch,  shall  only  extol,  or  at  least 
stand  aghast  at  the  brave  spectacle  we  offer,  of  "  the  freest 
and  most  enlightened  nation  in  the  world" ;  and  if  they  tell 
us  that  we  are  an  ill-mannered  set,  raw  and  clownish,  that  we 


1848.]  PoKtical  Deitinatian  of  America.  9 

pick  <mr  teeth  with  a  fork,  k)Il  back  m  our  chairs,  and  make 
oar  coantenaiice  hateful  with  tobacco,  and  that  with  all  our 
ezcell^ices  we  are  a  nation  of  "rowdies,"  —  why,  we  are 
offended,  and  our  feelings  are  hurt.  There  was  an  African 
chief,  long  ago,  who  ruled  over  a  few  miserable  cabins,  and 
one  dav  received  a  French  traveller  from  Paris,  under  a  tree. 
TVith  the  exertion  of  a  pair  of  shoes,  our  chief  was  as  naked 
as  a  pestle,  but  with  great  complacency  he  asked  the  traveller, 
"  What  do  they  say  of  me  at  Paris  ?  " 

Such  is  our  dread  of  authority  that  we  like  not  old  thing? ; 
hence  we  are  always  a-changing.  Our  house  must  be  new, 
and  our  book,  and  even  our  church.  So  we  choose  a  material 
that  soon  wears  out,  though  it  often  outlasts  our  patience. 
The  wooden  house  is  an  apt  emblem  of  this  sign  of  the  times. 
But  this  love  of  change  appears  not  less  in  important  matters. 
We  think  "  of  old  things  all  are  over  old,  of  new  things  none 
are  new  enough."  So  the  age  asks  of  all  institutions  their  ^ 
right  to  be ;  What  right  has  the  government  to  existence ;  who 
gave  the  majority  a  right  to  contrdi  the  minority,  to  restrict 
trade,  levy  taxes,  make  laws,  and  all  that  ?  K  the  nation  goes 
into  a  committee  of  the  whole  and  makes  laws,  some  little  man 
goes  into  a  committee  of  one  and  passes  his  counter  resolves. 
The  state  of  South  Carolina  is  a  nice  example  of  this  self- 
reliaace  and  ihk  questioning  of  all  authority.  That  little 
Waien  state,  which  contains  only  about  half  so  many  free 
white  inhabitants  as  the  single  city  of  New  York,  but  whidi 
none  the  less  claims  to  have  monopolized  most  of  the  chivalry 
of  the  nation,  and  its  patriotism,  as  well  as  political  wisdom  — 
that  chivalrous  little  state  says,  "  K  the  nation  does  not  make 
laws  to  suit  us ;  if  it  does  not  allow  us  to  imprison  all  black 
seamen  from  the  North ;  if  it  prevents  the  extension  of  Sla- 
very wherever  we  wish  to  carry  it — then  the  state  of  South 
Carolina  will  nullify,  and  leave  the  other  nine  and  twenty 
states  to  go  to  ruin  ! " 

Men  ask  what  right  have  the  churches  to  the  shadow  of 
authority  which  clings  to  them  —  to  make  creeds,  and  to  bind 
and  to  loose !  So  it  is  a  thing  which  has  happened,  that  when 
a  church  excommunicates  a  young  stripling  for  heresy,  he 
turns  round,  fulminates  his  edict,  and  excommunicates  the 
church.  Said  a  Aj  Jesuit  to  an  American  Protestant  at 
Borne,  "But  the  rites  and  customs  and  doctrines  of  the 
Catholic  church  ep  back  to  the  second  century,  —  the  age 
afier  the  apostiesT"    "  No  doubt  of  it,"  sud  the  American, 


\^ 


10  Political  Destination  of  America.  [Deo. 

who  had  also  read  the  Fathers,  ^^  they  go  back  to  the  times  of 
the  apostles  themselves ;  but  that  proves  noihmg,  for  there 
were  as  great  fools  in  the  first  century  as  the  last.  A  fool  or 
a  folly  is  no  better  because  it  is  an  old  folly  or  an  old  fool. 
There  are  fools  enough  now,  in  all  conscience.  Pray  do  n*t 
go  back  to  prove  their  apostolical  succession." 

There  are  always  some  men  who  are  born  out  of  due  season, 
men  of  past  a^es,  stragglers  of  former  generations,  who  ought 
to  have  been  oom  before  Dr.  Faustus  invented  printing,  but 
who  are  unfortunately  bom  now,  or,  if  bom  long  ago,  have  been 
fraudulently  and  illegally  concealed  by  their  mothers,  and  are 
now,  for  the  first  time,  brought  to  light.  The  age  lifts  such 
aged  juveniles  from  the  ground,  and  bids  them  live,  but  they 
are  sadly  to  seek  in  this  day ;  they  are  old-fashioned  boys ; 
their  authority  is  called  in  question  ;  their  traditions  and  old 
wives'  fables  are  laughed  at,  at  any  rate  disbelieved ;  they  get 
profanely  elbowed  in  the  crowd  —  men  not  knowing  their 
great  age  and  consequent  venerableness ;  the  shovel  hat, 
though  apparently  bom  on  their  head,  is  treated  with  disre- 
spect. The  very  boys  laugh  pertly  in  their  face  when  the^ 
speak,  and  even  old  men  can  scarce  forbear  a  smile,  though  it 
may  be  a  smile  of  pity.  The  age  affords  such  men  a  place, 
for  it  is  a  catholic  age,  large-minded,  and  tolerant,  —  such  a 
place  as  it  gives  to  ancient  armor,  Indian  Bibles,  and  fossil 
bones  of  the  Mastodon ;  it  puts  them  by  in  some  room  seldom 
used,  with  other  old  fiimiture,  and  allows  them  to  mumble 
their  anilities  by  themselves ;  now  and  then  takes  off  its  hat ; 
looks  in,  charitably,  to  keep  the  mediaeval  relics  in  good  heart, 
and  pretends  to  listen,  as  they  discourse  of  what  comes  of  noth- 
ing and  goes  to  it ;  but  in  matters  which  the  age  cares  about, 
commerce,  manufactures,  politics,  which  it  cares  much  for, 
even  in  education,  which  it  cares  &r  too  little  about,  it  trusts 
V        no  such  counsellors,  nor  tolerates,  nor  ever  affects  to  listen. 

Then  there  is  a  Philosophical  Tendency,  distinctly  visible ;  a 
groping  after  Ultimate  Facts,  First  Principles,  and  Universal 
Ideas.  We  wish  to  know  first  the  Fact,  next  the  Law  of  that 
Fact,  and  then  the  Reason  of  the  Law.  A  sign  of  this  ten- 
dency is  noticeable  in  the  titles  of  books ;  we  have  no  longer 
"  treatises  "  on  the  Eye,  the  Ear,  Sleep,  and  so  forth,  but  in 
their  place  we  find  works  professing  to  treat  of  the  '^  Philoso- 
phy "  of  vision,  of  sound,  of  sleep.  Even  in  the  Pulpits  men 
speak  about  the  ^^  Philosophy "  of  Religion ;  we  have  philo- 


/ 


/ 


1848.]  PoUUad  DestmaUon  of  America.  11 

8ophical  lectures  delivered  to  men  of  little  culture,  which 
would  have  amazed  our  grandfathers,  who  thought  a  shoe- 
maker should  never  go  beyond  his  last,  ^^  even  to  seek  for  the 
plulosophy  of  shoes."  "  What  a  pity,"  said  a  grave  Scotchman 
m  the  be^nning  of  this  century, "  to  teach  the  beautiful  science 
of  geometry  to  weavers  and  cobblers."  Here  nothing  is  too 
good  or  high  for  any  one  tall  and  good  enough  to  get  hold  of 
it.  What  audiences  attend  the  Lowell  lectures  in  Boston — 
two  or  three  thousand  men  listening  to  twelve  lectures  on  the 
Philosophy  of  fish !  it  would  not  bring  a  dollar  or  a  vote,  only 
thoughts  to  their  minds !  Toung  ladies  are  well  versed  in  the 
philosophy  of  the  affections,  and  understand  the  Theory  of 
Attraction,  while  their  grandmothers,  good  easy  souls,  were 
satisfied  with  the  possession  of  the  Fact.  The  circumstance 
that  philosophical  lectures  get  delivered  by  men  like  Walker,  , 
Agassiz,  Emerson,  and  their  coadjutors — men  who  do  not  spare  •^ 
abstruseness — get  listened  to  and  even  understood  in  town  and 
village  by  largfe  crowds  of  men  of  only  the  most  common  cul- 
ture,— this  indicates  a  philosophical  tendency  unknown  in  any 
other  land  or  age.  Our  circle  of  professed  scholars,  men  of 
culture  and  learning,  is  a  very  small  one,  while  our  circle  of 
thinking  men  is  disproportionately  large.  The  best  thought 
of  France  and  Germany  finds  a  readier  welcome  here  than  in 
our  parent  land :  nay,  the  newest  and  the  best  thought  of 
England  finds  its  earliest  and  warmest  welcome  in  America.  It 
was  a  little  remarkable  that  Bacon  and  Newton  should  be  re- 
printed here,  and  La  Place  should  have  found  his  translator 
and  expositor  coming  out  of  an  Insurance  Office  in  Salem ! 
Men  of  no  great  pretensions  object  to  an  accomplished 
and  eloquent  politician :  ''  That  is  all  very  well ;  he  made  us 
cry  and  laugh,  but  the  discourse  was  not  philosophical ;  he 
never  tells  us  the  reason  of  the  thing ;  he  seems  not  only  not 
to  know  it,  but  not  to  know  that  there  h  a  reason  for  the  thing, 
and  if  not,  what  is  the  use  of  this  bobbing  on  the  surface  ?  " 
Young  middens  complain  of  the  minister  that  he  has  no  philos- 
ophy in  his  sermons,  nothing  but  precepts,  which  they  could 
read  in  the  Bible  as  well  as  he ;  perhaps  in  heathen  Seneca. 
He  does  not  feed  their  souls. 

One  finds  this  tendency  where  it  is  least  expected ;  there  is 
a  philosophical  party  in  politics,  a  very  small  party  it  may  be, 
but  an  actual  one.  They  aim  to  get  at  Everlasting  Ideas  and 
Universal  Laws  not  made  by  man,  but  by  God  and  for  man, 
who  only  finds  them ;  and  from  them  they  aim  to  deduce  all 


,\ 


12  Political  Destination  of  America.  [Deo. 

particular  enaeianents,  so  that  each  statute  in  the  code  shaH 
represent  a  Fact  in  the  Universe ;  a  point  of  thought  in  God ; 
so,  indeed,  that  Legislation  shall  be  divine  in  the  same  sense 
that  a  true  system  of  Astronomy  is  divine  —  or  the  Christian 
Religion — the  word  corresponding  to  a  fact.  Men  of  this  party 
in  New  England  have  more  Ideas  tiian  precedente,  are  sponta- 
neous more  tiian  lo^cal ;  have  intuitions  rather  than  intellectual 
convictions  arrived  at  by  the  process  of  reasoning.  They 
think  it  is  not  philosof^icid  to  take  a  young  scoundrel  and  shut 
him  up  with  a  party  of  old  ones  for  his  amendment ;  not  philo- 
sophical to  leave  children  with  no  culture,  intellectual,  moral, 
or  religious,  exposed  to  the  temptations  of  a  high  and  corrupt 
civilization,  and  then  when  they  go  astray — as  such  barto- 
rians  need  must  in  such  temptations  —  to  hang  them  by  the 
neck  for  the  example's  sake.  They  doubt  if  war  is  a  more  phi- 
losophical mode  of  gettmg  justice  between  two  nations,  wan 
blows  to  settie  a  quarrel  between  two  men.  In  eitiier  case 
they  do  not  see  how  it  follows  that  he  who  can  strike  the 
haraest  blows  is  always  in  the  right  In  short,  they  think  that 
judicial  murder,  which  is  hanging,  and  national  mmrder,  which 
is  war,  are  not  more  philosophical  than  homicide,  which  one 
man  commits  (m  his  own  private  account. 

Theological  sects  are  always  tiie  last  to  feel  any  popular 
movement.  Yet  all  of  them,  from  the  Episcopalians  to  the 
Quakers,  have  each  a  philosophical  party,  which  bids  fair  to 
outgrow  the  party  which  rests  on  precedent  and  usage,  to 
overshadow  and  destroy  it.  The  Catholic  Church  itself, 
though  far  astern  of  all  the  sects  in  regard  to  the  great  move- 
ments of  the  age,  shar^  this  s{mit,  and  abroad  if  not  here  id 
well  nigh  rent  asunder  by  the  potent  medicine  which  this  new 
Daniel  of  Philosophy  has  put  into  its  mouth.  Everywhere  in 
tiie  American  churches  there  are  signs  of  a  tendency  to  drop 
all  that  rests  merely  on  tradition  and  hearsay,  to  clii^  only  to 
such  &cts  as  bide  the  test  of  criti<^  search,  and  such  doc- 
trines  as  can  be  verified  in  human  consciousness  here  and  to- 
day.   Doctors  of  divinity  destroy  the  faith  they  once  preached. 

True,  there  are  antagonistic  tendencies,  for  soon  as  one 
pole  is  developed  the  otiher  appears ;  objections  are  made  to 
Hiilosophjr,  the  old  cry  is  raised — "  InJSdelitjr,"  "  Denial,'* 
"  Free  thmkmg."  It  is  said  that  philosophy  will  corrupt  the 
young  men,  will  ^il  the  old  cmes,  and  deceive  the  very  Elect. 
^^  Authority  and  Tradition,"  say  some,  are  all  we  need  con- 
sult ;  ^^  Beason  must  be  put  down,  or  she  will  soon  ask  ter- 


1848.]  Fol^ieal  De^UnaJHon  of  America.  18 

rible  qnestKHis."  There  is  good  cause  for  these  men  warring 
against  Reason  and  Philosophy;  it  is  purely  in  self-defence. 
But  this  counsel  and  iiiat  cry  come  from  those  quarters  before 
mentioned,  where  the  men  of  past  ages  have  their  place, 
where  the  forgotten  is  re-collected,  the  obsolete  preserved,  and 
tihe  useless  held  in  esteem.  The  counsel  is  not  dangerous ; 
the  bird  of  ni^t  who  overstays  his  hour  is  only  troublesome 
to  himself,  and  was  never  known  to  hurt  a  dovelet  or  a  mouse- 
ling  after  sunrise.  In  the  night  only  is  the  owl  destructive. 
Some  of  those  who  thus  cry  out  against  this  tendency  are 
excellent  men  in  their  way,  and  highly  useful,  valuable  as 
conveyancers  of  opinions.  So  long  as  there  are  men  who  take  1/^ 
<^)inions  as  real  estate,  ^^  to  have  and  to  hold  for  themselves 
and  their  heirs  for  ever,"  why  should  there  not  be  such  con- 
veyancers of  opinions  as  well  as  of  land  ?  And  as  it  is  not  the 
duty  of  the  latter  functionary  to  ascertain  the  quality  or  the 
value  of  tiie  land,  but  only  its  metes  and  bounds,  its  appurte- 
nances and  the  title  tiiereto ;  to  see  if  the  grantor  is  regularly 
seized  and  possessed  thereof  and  has  good  right  to  convey  and 
devise  the  same,  and  to  make  sure  that  the  whole  conveyance 
is  regularly  made  out,  —  so  is  it  with  these  conveyancers  of 
opinion  ;  so  should  it  be,  and  they  are  valuable  men.  It  is  a 
good  tiling  to  know  that  we  hold  under  Scotus,  and  Ramus, 
and  Albertus  Magnus,  who  were  regularly  seized  of  this  or  that 
opimon.  It  ^ves  an  absurdity  the  dignity  of  a  Relic.  Some- 
times these  worthies  who  thus  oppose  Reason  and  her  kin  seem 
to  have  a  good  deal  in  them,  and  when  one  examines  he  finds 
more  thui  he  looked  for.  They  are  like  a  nest  of  boxes  from 
EQngham  or  Nuremburg,  you  open  one  and  behold  another; 
that,  and  lo !  a  third.  So  you  go  on  opening  and  opening,  and 
finding  and  finding,  till  at  last  you  come  to  the  heart  of  the  mat- 
ter, and  then  you  find  a  box  that  is  very  littie,  and  entirely 
empty. 

Yet  with  all  this  tendency,  and  it  is  now  so  strong  that  it 
cannot  be  put  down,  nor  even  howled  down,  much  as  it  may  be 
howled  over — there  is  a  lamentable  Want  of  First  Principles 
well  known  and  established ;  we  have  rejected  the  Authority 
of  Tradition,  but  not  yet  accepted  the  Authority  of  Truth  and 
Justice.  We  will  not  be  treated  as  striplings,  and  are  not  y 
old  enough  to'go  alone  as  men.  Accordingly,  nothing  seems  ^ 
fixed.  There  is  a  perpetual  see-sawing  of  opposite  principles. 
Somebody  sud  Ministers  ought  to  be  ordmed  on  horseback, 


14  Political  Destination  of  America.  [Dec, 

because  thej  are  to  remain  so  short  a  time  in  one  place.  It 
would  be  as  emblematic  to  inaugurate  American  Politicians  by 
swearing  them  on  a  weathercock.  The  great  men  of  the  land 
have  as  many  turns  in  their  course  as  the  Euripus  or  the  Mis- 
souri. Even  the  Facts  given  in  the  spiritual  nature  of  man 
are  called  in  question.  An  eminent  Unitarian  divine  regards 
the  existence  of  God  as  a  matter  of  opinion,  thinks  it  cannot 
be  demonstrated,  and  publicly  declares  that  it  is  "  not  a  cer- 
tainty." Some  American  Protestants  no  longer  take  the  Bible 
as  the  standard  of  ultimate  appeal,  yet  venture  not  to  set  up 
in  that  place  Reason,  Conscience,  the  Soul  getting  help  of 
God ;  others,  who  affect  to  accept  the  Scripture  as  the  last 
authority,  yet  when  questioned  as  to  their  belief  in  the  mirac- 
ulous and  divme  birth  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  are  found  unable 
to  say  Yes  or  No,  not  having  made  up  their  minds. 

In  Politics  it  is  not  yet  decided  whether  it  is  best  to  leave 
men  to  buy  where  they  can  buy  cheapest,  and  sell  where  they 
can  sell  dearest,  or  to  restrict  that  matter. 

It  was  a  clear  case  to  our  fathers  in  '76  that  all  men  were 
"created  equal,"  each  with  "Unalienable  Rights."  That 
seemed  so  clear  that  reasoning  would  not  make  it  appear  more 
reasonable ;  it  was  taken  for  granted,  as  a  self-evident  proposir 
tion.  The  whole  nation  said  so.  Now  it  is  no  strange  thing 
to  find  it  said  that  negroes  are  not  "  created  equal "  in  Una- 
lienable Rights  with  white  men.  Nay,  in  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States  a  famous  man  declares  all  this  talk  a  dangerous 
mistake.  The  practical  decision  of  the  nation  looks  the  same 
way.  So  to  make  our  theory  accord  with  our  practice,  we 
ought  to  recommit  the  Declaration  to  the  hands  which  drafted 
that  great  State  Paper,  and  instruct  Mr.  Jefferson  to  amend 
the  document,  and  declare  that  "  all  men  are  created  equal, 
and  endowed  by  their  Creator  with  certain  Unalienable  Rights 
if  bom  of  white  mothers ;  but  if  not,  not." 

In  this  lack  of  first  principles  it  is  not  settled  in  the  popular 
consciousness  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  an  Absolute  Right, 
a  great  Law  of  God,  which  we  are  to  keep  come  what  will 
come.  So  the  nation  is  not  upright  but  goes  stooping.  Hence 
in  private  affairs  Law  takes  the  place  of  Conscience,  and  in 
public,  Might  of  Right.  So  the  Bankrupt  pays  his  stalling  in 
the  pound  and  gets  his  discharge,  but  afterwards  becoming 
rich  does  not  think  of  paying  the  other  nineteen  shillings. 
He  will  tell  you  the  Law  b  his  conscience ;  if  that  be  satisfied, 
so  is  he.    [but  you  will  yet  find  him  letting  money  at  one  or 


1848.]  FolUiedl  Destination  of  America.  15 

two  per  cent,  a  month,  contrary  to  law  ;  and  then  he  will  tell 
YOU  that  pajing  a  debt  is  a  matter  of  law,  while  letting  money 
IS  only  a  matter  of  conscience.  So  he  rides  either  indifferently 
—  now  the  public  hack,  and  now  his  own  private  nag,  accora- 
ing  as  it  serves  his  turn. 

So  a  rich  state  borrows  money  and  "  repudiates  "  the  debt, 
satisfying  its  political  conscience,  as  the  bankrupt  his  commer- 
cial conscience,  with  the  notion  that  there  is  no  Absolute 
lUght ;  that  Expediency  is  the  only  Justice,  and  that  King 
People  can  do  no  wrong.  No  calm  voice  of  indignation  cries 
out  from  the  pulpit  and  the  press  and  the  heart  of  the  people, 
to  shame  the  repudiators  into  decent  morals — because  it  is  not 
settled  in  the  popular  mind  that  there  is  any  Absolute  Right. 
Then  because  we  are  strong  and  the  Mexicans  weak,  because 
we  want  their  land  for  a  slave-pasture  and  they  can  not  keep 
us  out  of  it,  we  think  that  is  reason  enough  for  waging  an 
infamous  war  of  plunder.  Grave  men  do  not  ask  about  "  the 
natural  justice  "  of  such  an  undertakmg,  only  about  its  cost. 
Have  we  not  seen  an  American  Congress  vote  a  plain  lie,  with 
only  sixteen  dissenting  voices  in  the  whole  body ;  has  not  the 
head  of  the  nation  continually  repeated  that  lie,  and  do  not 
both  parties,  even  at  this  day,  sustain  the  vote  ? 

Now  and  then  there  rises  up  an  honest  man,  with  a  great 
Christian  heart  in  his  bosom,  and  sets  free  a  score  or  two  of 
slaves  inherited  from  his  father ;  watches  over  and  tends  them 
in  their  new-found  freedom :  or  another,  who,  when  legally 
released  from  payment  of  his  debts,  restores  the  uttermost 
&rthing.  We  talk  of  this  and  praise  it,  as  an  extraordinary 
thing.  Indeed  it  is  so ;  Justice  is  an  unusual  thing,  and  such 
men  deserve  the  honor  they  thus  win.  But  such  praise  shows 
that  such  honesty  is  a  rare  honesty.  The  northern  man,  bom 
on  the  battle-ground  of  freedom,  goes  to  the  south  and  be- 
comes the  most  tyrannical  of  slave-drivers.  The  son  of  the 
Puritan,  bred  up  m  austere  ways,  is  sent  to  Congress  to  stand 
up  for  Truth  and  Right,  but  he  turns  out  a  "  doughface,"  and 
betrays  the  Duty  he  went  to  serve.  Yet  he  does  not  lose  his 
place,  for  every  doughfaced  representative  has  a  doughfaced 
constituency  to  back  him. 

It  is  a  great  mischief  that  comes  from  lacking  First  Princi- 
ples, and  the  worst  part  of  it  comes  from  lacking  first  princi- 
ples in  Morals.  Thereby  our  eyes  are  holden  so  that  we  see 
not  tJie  great  social  evils  all  about  us.  We  attempt  to  justify 
Slavery,  even  to  do  it  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  Whig 


16  Political  DeHinaUon  of  America.  [Dec. 

party  of  tbe  North  loves  Slavery ;  the  Democratic  party  does 
not  even  seek  to  conceal  its  affection  therefor.  A  great  poli- 
tician declares  tiie  Mexican  war  wicked,  and  then  urges  men 
to  go  and  fight  it ;  he  thinks  a  famous  general  not  fit  to  bo 
nominated  for  President,  but  then  invites  men  to  elect  him. 
Politics  are  national  morals,  the  morals  of  Thomas  and  Jeremiah, 
multiplied  by  millions.  But  it  is  not  decided  yet  that  Honesty 
is  the  best  Policy  for  a  politician ;  it  is  thought  that  the  Best 
Policy  is  honesty,  at  least  as  near  it  as  the  times  will  allow. 
Many  politicians  seem  undecided  how  to  turn,  and  so  ^it  on 
the  fence  between  Honesty  and  Dishonesty.  Mr.  Facing- 
both-Ways  is  a  popular  politician  in  America  just  now,  sitting 
on  tiie  fence  between  Honesty  and  Dishonesty,  and,  like  the 
blank  leaf  between  the  Old  and  New  Testaments,  belonging 
to  neither  dispensation.  It  is  a  littie  amusing  to  a  trifler  to 
hear  a  man's  fitness  for  the  Presidency  defended  on  the  ground 
that  he  has  no  definite  convictions  or  ideas ! 
I  There  was  once  a  man  who  said  he  always  told  a  lie  when 

i^  it  would  serve  his  special  turn.     'T  is  a  pity  he  went  to  his 

j      own  place  long  ago.    He  seemed  bom  for  a  party  politician 
I      in  America.    He  would  have  had  a  large  party,  for  he  made 
a  great  many  converts  before  he  died,  and  left  a  numerous 
kindred  busv  in  the  editing  of  newspapers,  writing  addresses 
for  the  people,  and  passing  "  resolutions.*' 

It  must  strike  a  stranger  as  a  little  odd  that  a  republic 
should  have  a  slave-holder  for  President  five  sixths  of  the  time, 
and  most  of  the  important  offices  be  monopolized  by  other 
slave-holders — a  little  surprising  that  all  the  pulpits  and  most 
of  the  pesses  should  be  in  favor  of  Slavery,  at  least  not 
agmst  it.  But  such  is  the  fact.  Every  body  knows  the 
character  of  the  American  government  for  some  years  past, 
and  of  the  American  parties  in  politics.  ^'  Like  master,  like 
man,"  used  to  be  a  true  proverb  in  old  England,  and  Like 

Bjople,  like  ruler,  is  a  true  proverb  in  America — true  now. 
id  a  decided  people  ever  choose  doughfaces  ;  a  people  that 
loved  God  and  man  choose  representatives  that  cared  for  nei- 
ther Truth  nor  Justice  ?  Now  and  then,  for  dust  gets  in  the 
brightest  eyes ;  but  did  they  ever  choose  such  men  continually  ? 
The  people  are  always  fairly  represented ;  our  representatives 
do  actually  re-present  us,  and  in  more  senses  than  they  are 
paid  for.  Congress  and  the  Cabinet  are  only  two  thermometers 
hung  up  in  the  capital,  to  show  the  temperature  of  the  national 
morals. 


1848.]  FoUtieal  Deiti$kttion  of  America.  17 

But  amid  this  general  uncertiUDty  there  are  two  capital 
maxims  irhich  prevail  amongst  our  hucksters  of  Politics :  To 
love  your  party  better  than  your  country,  and  Yourself  better 
than  your  party.  There  are,  it  is  true,  real  statesmen  amongst 
us,  men  who  love  Justice  and  do  the  Right,  but  they  seem  lost 
in  the  mob  of  vulgar  politicians  and  the  dust  of  party  editors. 

Since  the  nation  loves  Freedom  above  all  things,  the  name  < 
Democracy  is  a  favorite  name.  No  party  could  live  a  twelve- 
month that  should  declare  itself  anti-democratic.  Saint  and 
sinner,  statesman  and  politician,  alike  love  the  name.  So  it 
comes  to  pass  that  there  are  two  thmgs  which  bear  that  name  y 
each  has  its  type  and  its  motto.  The  motto  of  one  is,  '<  You 
are  as  good  as  I,  and  let  us  help  one  another."  That  repre- 
sents the  Democracy  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and 
of  the  New  Testament ;  its  type  is  a  Free  School,  where  chil- 
dren of  all  ranks  meet  under  the  guidance  of  intelligent  and 
Christian  men,  to  be  educated  in  mind,  and  heart,  and  soul. 
The  other  has  for  its  motto,  '^  I  am  as  good  as  you,  so  get  out 
of  my  way."  Its  type  is  the  Bar-room  of  a  tavern  —  dirty, 
oflfensive,  st^ed  with  tobacco,  and  full  of  drunken,  noisy, 
quarrelsome  ^^  rowdies,"  just  returned  from  the  Mexican  war, 
and  readv  for  a  "  Bufetlo  Hunt,"  for  privateering,  or  to  go 
and  plunder  any  one  who  is  better  off  than  themselves,  espec- 
ially if  also  better.  That  is  not  exactiy  the  Democracy  of  the 
Declaration,  or  of  the  New  Testament;  but  of — no  matter 
whom. 

Then,  agm,  there  is  a  great  Intensity  of  life  and  Purpose. 
This  displays  itself  in  our  actions  and  speeches ;  in  our  spec- 
ulations ;  in  the  ^^  revivals  "  of  the  more  serious  sects ;  in  the 
excitements  of  trade  ;  in  the  general  character  of  the  people. 
All  that  we  do  we  overdo.  It  appears  in  our  Hopefulness ; 
we  are  the  most  aspiring  of  nations.  Not  content  with  half 
the  continent,  we  w^i  the  other  half.  We  have  this  charac- 
teristic of  genius :  we  are  dissatisfied  with  all  that  we  have 
done.  Somebody  once  said  we  were  too  vcdn  to  be  proud.  It 
is  not  wholly  so ;  the  national  ideal  is  so  far  above  us  that  any 
achievement  seems  little  and  low.  The  American  soul  passes 
away  from  its  work  soon  as  it  is  finished.  So  the  soul  of  each 
great  artist  refuses  to  dwell  in  his  finished  work,  for  that 
seems  little  to  his  dream.  Our  Fathers  deemed  the  Revolu- 
tion a  great  work  ;  it  was  once  thought  a  surprising  thing  to 
found  that  littie  colony  on  the  shores  of  New  England ;  but 

NO.  V.  2 


.<\ 


18  Political  Deitination  of  America.  [Dec 

Young  America  looks  to  other  Beyolutions,  and  thinks  she  has 
many  a  Plymouth  colony  in  her  bosom.  K  other  nations 
wonder  at  our  achievements,  we  are  a  disappointment  to  our- 

^  selves,  and  wonder  we  have  not  done  more.  Our  national 
Idea  out-travels  our  experience,  and  all  experience.  We 
began  our  national  career  by  setting  all  history  at  defiance  — 
for  that  s£ud,  '^  A  Republic  on  a  large  scale  cannot  exist." 
Our  progress  since  has  shown  that  we  were  right  m  refusing 
to  be  limited  by  the  Past.  The  political  ideas  of  the  nation 
are  transcendent,  not  empirical.  Human  history  could  not 
justify  the  Declaration  of  Independence  and  its  large  state- 
ments of  the  new  Idea :  the  nation  went  behind  human  his- 
tory, and  appealed  to  Human  Nature. 

We  are  more  spontaneous  than  logical;  we  have  ideas^ 
rather  than  facts  or  precedents.  We  dream  more  than  we 
remember,  and  so  have  many  orators  and  poets,  (or  poetas- 
ters,) with  but  few  antiquaries  and  general  scholars.  We  are 
not  so  reflective  as  forecasting.  We  are  the  most  intuitive 
of  modem  nations.  The  very  party  in  politics  which  has  the 
least  culture,  is  richest  in  Ideas  which  will  one  day  become 
facts.  Great  truths  —  political,  philosophical,  religious — lie 
a-buming  in  many  a  young  heart  which  cannot  legitimate  nor 
prove  them  true,  but  none  the  less  feels,  and  feels  them  true. 
A  man  full  of  new  truths  finds  a  ready  audience  with  us. 
Many  things  which  come  disguised  as  truths  under  such  cir^ 
cumstances  pass  current  for  a  time,  but  by  and  by  their  bray 

X  discovers  them.  The  Hope  which  comes  from  this  intensibr 
of  life  and  intuition  of  truths  is  a  national  characteristic.  It 
gives  courage,  enterprise,  and  strength.  They  can  who  think 
they  can.  We  are  confident  in  our  star ;  other  nations  may 
see  it  or  not,  we  know  it  is  there  above  the  clouds.  We  do 
not  hesitate  at  rash  experiments  —  sending  fifty  thousand  sol- 
diers to  conquer  a  nation  with  eight  or  nine  millions  of  people. 
We  are  up  to  every  thing  and  think  ourselves  a  match  for  any 
thing.  The  young  man  is  rash,  for  he  only  hopes,  having 
little  to  remember ;  he  is  excitable  and  loves  excitement ; 
change  of  work  is  his  repose  ;  he  is  hot  and  noisy,  sanguine 
and  fearless,  with  the  courage  that  comes  from  warm  blood  and 
ignorance  of  dangers ;  he  does  not  know  what  a  hard,  tough, 
sour,  old  world  he  is  bom  into.  We  are  a  nation  of  young 
men.  We  talked  of  annexing  Texas  and  northem  I^xico, 
and  did  both;  now  we  grasp  at  Cuba,  Central  America, — 
all  the  continent,  —  and  speak  of  a  RaUroad  to  the  Pacific  as 


1848.]  PoaUeal  DutinOHon  of  America.  19 

a  trifle  for  ns  to  accomplish.   Oar  Dational  deeds  are  certainly 
great,  but  our  hope  and  promise  far  outbrags  them  all. 

If  this  intensity  of  life  and  hope  have  its  good  side,  it  has 
also  its  evil ;  with  much  of  the  exceUence  of  youth  we  have 
its  faults  —  rashness,  haste,  and  superficiality.  Our  work  is 
seldom  well  done.  In  English  manufactures  there  is  a  cer- 
tain solid  honesty  of  performance ;  in  the  French  a  certiun 
air  of  elegance  and  refinement:  one  misses  both  these  in 
American  works.  It  is  said  America  invents  the  most  ma- 
chines, but  England  builds  them  best.  We  lack  the  phleg- 
matic patience  of  older  nations.  We  are  always  in  a  hurry, 
morning,  noon,  and  night.  We  are  impatient  of  the  process, 
but  greedy  of  the  resvdt ;  so  we  make  short  experiments  but 
long  reports,  and  talk  much  though  we  say  little.  We  forget 
tiiat  a  sober  method  is  a  short  way  of  coming  to  the  end,  and 
that  he  who,  before  he  sets  out,  ascertuns  where  he  is  going 
and  the  way  thither,  ends  his  journey  more  prosperously  than 
one  who  settles  these  matters  by  the  way.  Quickness  is  a 
great  desideratum  with  us.  It  is  said  an  American  ship  is 
known  far  off  at  sea  by  the  quantity  of  canvas  she  carries. 
Rough  and  ready  is  a  popular  attribute.  Quick  and  off  would 
be  a  symbolic  motto  for  the  nation  at  this  day,  representing 
one  phase  of  our  character.  We  are  sudden  in  deliberation ; 
the  ^^  one-hour  rule  "  works  well  in  Congress.  A  committee 
of  the  British  Parliament  spends  twice  or  thrice  our  time  in 
coUecting  facts,  understanding  and  making  them  intelligible^ 
but  less  than  our  time  in  speech-making  after  the  report; 
speeches  there  commonly  being  for  the  purpose  of  facilitating 
uie  business,  while  here  one  sometimes  is  half  read^  to  think, 
notwithstancUng  our  earnestness,  that  the  business  is  to  facili- 
tate the  speaking.  A  state  revises  her  statutes  with  a  rapidity 
that  astonishes  a  European.  Yet  each  revision  brings  some 
amendment,  and  what  is  found  good  in  the  constitution  or  laws 
of  one  state  gets  speedily  imitated  by  the  rest,  each  new  state 
(of  the  North)  becooung  more  democratic  than  its  predecessor. 

We  are  so  intent  on  our  purpose  that  we  have  no  time  for 
amusement.  We  have  but  one  or  two  festivals  in  the  year, 
and  even  then  we  are  serious  and  reformatory.  Jonathan 
tiiinks  it  a  very  solemn  thing  to  be  merry.  A  Frenchman  sud 
we  have  but  two  amusements  in  America — Theology  for  the 
women  and  Politics  for  the  men ;  preaching  and  voting.  K 
this  be  true  it  may  help  to  explain  the  fistct  that  most  men 
take  their  theology  from  their  wives,  and  women  politics  bom 


20  Political  Destination  of  Ameriea.  [Deo. 

their  husbands.  No  nation  ever  tried  ihe  experiment  of 
such  abstinence  from  amusement.  We  have  no  time  for  sport, 
and  so  lose  much  of  the  poetry  of  life.  All  work  and  no  play 
does  not  always  make  a  dull  boy,  but  it  commonly  makes  a 
hard  man. 

We  rush  from  school  into  business  early ;  we  hurry  while 
in  business ;  we  aim  to  be  rich  quickly,  making  a  fortune  at 
a  stroke,  making  or  losing  it  twice  or  thrice  in  a  lifetime. 
"  Soft  and  fair,  goes  safe  and  far,"  is  no  proverb  to  our  taste. 
We  are  the  most  restless  of  people.  How  we  crowd  into 
cars  and  steamboats ;  a  locomotive  would  well  typify  our  fum- 
ing, fizzing  spirit.  In  our  large  towns  life  seems  to  be  only  a 
scamper.  Not  satisfied  with  bustling  about  all  day,  when 
night  comes  we  cannot  sit  still,  but  alone  of  all  nations  have 
added  rockers  to  our  chairs. 

All  is  haste,  from  the  tanning  of  leather  to  the  education 
of  a  boy,  and  tiie  old  saw  holds  its  edge  good  as  ever — "  the 
more  haste  the  worse  speed."  The  young  stripling,  innocent 
of  all  manner  of  lore,  whom  a  judicious  father  has  barrelled 
down  in  a  college,  or  law  school,  or  theological  seminary,  till 
his  beard  be  grown,  mourns  over  the  few  years  he  must  spend 
there  awcdting  that  operation.  His  rule  is,  ^^  to  make  a  spoon 
or  spoil  a  horn ; "  he  longs  to  be  out  in  the  world  ^^  making  a 
fortune,"  or  "  doing  good,"  aa  he  calls  what  his  father  better 
names  ^'  making  noisy  work  for  repentance,  and  doing  mis- 
chief." So  he  rushes  into  life  not  fitted,  and  would  flv  towards 
Heaven,  this  young  Icarus,  his  wings  not  half  fledged.  There 
seems  Uttie  taste  for  thoroughness.  In  our  schools  as  our 
farms,  we  pass  over  much  ground  but  pass  over  it  poorly. 

In  Education  the  sum  is  not  to  get  the  most  we  can,  but  the 
least  we  can  get  along  with.  A  ship  with  over  much  canvas 
and  over  Uttle  ballast  were  no  bad  emblem  of  many  amongst 
us.  In  no  country  is  it  so  easy  to  get  a  reputation  for  learn- 
ing—  accumulated  thought,  because  so  few  devote  themselves 
to  that  accumulation.  In  tins  respect  our  standard  is  low.  So 
a  man  of  one  attainment  is  sure  to  be  honored,  but  a  man  of 
many  and  varied  abilities  is  in  danger  of  being  imdervalued. 
A  Spurdieim  would  be  warmly  welcomed,  while  a  Humboldt 
would  be  suspected  of  superficiality,  as  we  have  not  the  stand- 
ard to  judge  him  by.  Yet  in  no  country  in  the  world  is  it  so 
difiicult  to  get  a  reputation  for  eloquence,  as  many  speak  and 
that  well.  It  is  surprising  with  what  natural  strength  and 
beauty  the  young  American  addresses  himself  to  speak. 


1848.]  Political  DeitinaUon  of  America.  21 

Some  hatter's  apprentice,  or  shoemaker's  journeyman,  at  a 
temperance  or  anti-slaverj  meeting,  will  speak  words  like  the 
blows  of  an  axe,  that  cut  clean  and  deep.  The  country  swarms 
with  orators,  more  abundantly  where  Education  is  least  esteem- 
ed—  in  the  West  or  South. 

We  have  secured  National  Unity  of  Action  for  the  white 
citizens,  without  much  curtailing  Individual  Variety  of  Action, 
80  we  have  at  the  North  pretty  well  solved  that  problem  which 
other  nations  have  so  often  boggled  over ;  we  have  balanced  the 
Centripetal  Power,  the  government  and  laws,  with  the  Centrifu- 
gal Power,  the  mass  of  individuals,  into  harmonious  proportions. 
If  one  were  to  leave  out  of  sight  the  three  million  slaves,  one 
sixth  part  of  the  population,  the  problem  might  be  regarded  as 
very  happily  solved.  As  the  consequence  of  this,  in  no  country 
is  there  more  talent,  or  so  much  awake  and  active.  In  the 
South  this  Unity  is  attained  by  sacrificing  all  the  Rights  of 
three  million  slaves  and  almost  all  the  Rights  of  the  other  col- 
ored population.  In  despotic  countries  this  Unity  is  brought 
about  by  the  sacrifice  of  freedom,  individual  variety  of  action, 
in  all  except  the  Despot  and  his  favorites ;  so  much  of  the 
nation's  energy  is  stifled  in  the  chains  of  the  State,  while  here 
it  is  friendly  to  institutions  which  are  friendly  to  it,  goes  to  its 
work,  and  approves  itself  in  the  vast  increase  of  wealth  and 
comfort  throughout  the  North,  where  there  is  no  class  of  men 
which  is  so  oppressed  that  it  cannot  rise.  One  is  amazed  at  the 
amount  of  resuly  skill  and  general  ability  which  he  finds  in  all 
the  North,  where  each  man  has  a  littie  culture,  takes  his 
newspaper,  manages  his  own  business,  and  talks  with  some  in- 
telligence of  many  things — especially  of  PoUtics  ai^d  Theot 
ogy.  In  respect  to  this  general  intellectual  ability  and  power 
01  self-help,  tiie  mass  of  people  seem  far  in  advance  of  any 
other  nation.  But  at  the  same  time  our  scholars,  who  always 
represent  the  nation's  higher  modes  of  consciousness,  will  not 
bear  comparison  with  the  scholars  of  England,  France,  and 
Germany,  men  thoroughly  furnished  for  their  work.  This  is 
a  great  reproach  and  mischief  to  us,  for  we  need  most  accom-  j 
plished  leaders,  who  by  their  thought  can  direct  this  national 
intensity  of  life.  Our  literature  does  not  furnish  them ;  we 
have  no  great  men  there;  Irving,  Channing,  Cooper,  are 
not  names  to  conjure  with  in  literature.  One  reads  thick  vol- 
umes devoted  to  the  Poets  of  America,  or  her  Prose  Writers, 
and  finds  many  names  which  he  wonders  he  never  heard  of 
before,  but  when  he  turns  over  their  works  he  finds  consolation 
and  recovers  his  composure. 


\ 


I 


S3  PoUUeal  DuHnation  of  America.  [Dee. 

AfliericiQ  literature  may  be  divided  into  two  departments : 
tke  Permanent  Literature,  which  gets  printed  in  books,  that 
aoaetimes  reach  more  than  one  edition ;  and  the  Evanescent 
literature,  which  appears  only  in  the  form  of  speeches,  pam- 
phlets, reviews,  newspaper  articles,  and  the  like  extempore 
piodttctions.  Now  our  permanent  literature,  as  a  general 
dung,  is  superficial,  tame,  and  weak, ;  it  is  not  American ;  it 
has  not  our  ideas,  our  contempt  of  authority,  our  philosophical 
tarn,  nor  even  our  uncertainty  as  to  first  principles,  still  less  our 
natifmfJ  intensity,  our  hope,  and  fresh  intuitive  perceptions  of 
tradi.  It  is  a  miserable  imitation.  Love  of  freedom  is  not 
there.  The  real  national  literature  is  found  almost  wholly  in 
speeches,  pamphlets,  and  newspapers.  The  latter  are  pretty 
dioroughly  American ;  mirrors  in  which  we  see  no  very  flat- 
tering likeness  of  our  morals  or  our  manners.  Yet  the  picture 
is  true :  that  vulgarity,  that  rant,  that  bragging  violence,  that 
lecklessness  of  Truth  and  Justice,  that  disregard  of  Right  and 
Duty,  are  a  part  of  the  nation's  every  day  life.  Our  newspa- 
pers are  low  and  '^  wicked  to  a  fault ; "  only  in  tiiis  weakness 
tre  they  un-American.  Yet  they  exhibit,  and  abundantly,  the 
fear  qualities  we  have  mentioned  as  belonging  to  the  signs  of 
our  times.  As  a  general  rule  our  orators  are  also  American 
—  with  our  good  and  ill.  Now  and  then  one  rises  who  has 
studied  Demosthenes  in  Leland  or  Francis,  and  got  a  second- 
hand acquaintance  with  old  models ;  a  man  who  uses  literary 
common-places,  and  thinks  himself  original  and  classic  be- 
cause he  can  quote  a  line  or  so  of  Horace,  in  a  Western  House 
of  Representatives,  without  getting  so  many  words  wrong  as 
his  reporter ;  but  such  men  are  rare,  and  after  making  due 
abatement  for  them,  our  orators  all  over  the  land  are  pretty 
thoroughly  American,  a  little  turgid,  hot,  sometimes  brilliant, 
hopeful,  intuitive,  abounding  in  half  truths,  full  of  great  ideas ; 
often  inconsequent ;  sometimes  coarse ;  patriotic,  vain,  self-con- 
fident, rash,  strong,  and  young-mannish.  Of  course  the  most 
of  our  speeches  are  vulgar,  ranting,  and  woi  thless,  but  we  have 

J)roduced  some  magnificent  specimens  of  oratory,  which  are 
resh,  original,  American,  and  brand  new. 

The  more  studied,  polished,  and  elegant  literature  is  not  so ; 
that  is  mainly  an  imitation.  It  seems  not  a  thing  of  native 
growth.  Sometimes,  as  in  Channing,  the  thought  and  the  hope 
are  American,  but  the  form  and  the  coloring  old  and  foreign. 
We  dare  not  be  original ;  our  American  Pine  must  be  cut  to 
the  trim  pattern  of  the  English  Yew,  though  the  Pine  bleed 


1848.]  PoliUeal  Deitination  of  America.  28 

at  every  clip.  This  poet  tunes  his  lyre  at  the  harp  of  Goethe, 
Milton,  Pope,  or  Tennyson.  His  songs  nught  better  be  sung 
on  the  Rhine  than  the  Kennebec.  They  are  not  American  in 
form  or  feeling ;  they  have  not  the  brea^  of  our  air ;  the  smell 
of  our  ground  is  not  in  tiiem.  Hence  our  poet  seems  cold  and 
poor.  He  loves  the  old  mythology ;  talks  about  Pluto  —  the 
Greek  devil,  —  the  Fates  and  Furies  —  witches  of  old  time  in 
Greece,  —  but  would  blush  to  use  our  mythology,  or  breathe 
the  name  in  verse  of  our  Devil,  or  our  own  Witches,  lest  he 
should  be  thought  to  believe  what  he  wrote.  The  mother  and^ 
sisters,  who  with  many  a  pinch  and  pain  sent  the  hopeful  boy 
to  college,  must  turn  over  the  Classical  Dictionary  before  they 
can  find  out  what  the  youth  would  be  at  in  his  rhymes.  Our 
Poet  is  not  deep  enough  to  see  that  Aphrodite  came  from 
the  ordinary  waters,  that  Homer  only  hitched  into  rythm  and 
furnished  the  accomplishment  of  verse  to  street-talk,  nursery  ^ 
tales,  and  old  men's  gossip,  in  the  Ionian  towns ;  he  thinks 
what  is  common  is  unclean.  So  he  sings  of  Corinth  and 
Athens,  which  he  never  saw,  but  has  not  a  word  to  say  of  u 
Boston,  and  Fall  lUver,  and  Baltimore,  and  New  York,  which 
are  just  as  meet  for  song.  He  raves  of  Thermopylae  and 
Marathon,  with  never  a  word  for  Lexington  and  Bunkerhill,  for 
Cowpens,  and  Lundy's  Lane,  and  Bemis's  Heights.  He  loves 
to  tell  of  the  Hyssus,  of  "  smooth  sliding  Mincius,  crowned  with  i^ 
vocal  reeds,"  yet  sings  not  of  the  Petapsco,  the  Susquehan- 
nah,  the  Aroostook,  and  the  WilHmantick.  He  prates  of  die 
narcissus,  and  the  daisy,  never  of  American  dandelions  and 
blue  eyed  grass ;  he  dwells  on  the  lark  and  the  nightingale, 
but  has  not  a  thought  for  the  brown  thrasher  and  the  bobo- 
link, who  every  morning  in  June  rain  down  such  showers  of 
melody  on  his  affected  head.  What  a  lesson  Bums  teaches  us 
addressing  his  "  rough  bur  thistle,"  his  dwsy,  "  wee  crimson 
tippit  thing,"  and  finding  marvellous  poetry  in  the  mouse  whose 
nest  his  plough  turned  over !  Nay,  how  beautifully  has  even 
our  sweet  Poet  sung  of  our  own  Green  river,  our  waterfowl, 
of  the  blue  and  fringed  gentian,  the  glory  of  autumnd  days. 
Hitherto,  spite  of  the  great  reading  public,  we  have  no  per- 
manent literature  which  corresponds  to  the  American  Idea. 
Perhaps  it  is  not  time  for  that ;  it  must  be  organized  in  deeds 
before  it  becomes  classic  in  words ;  but  as  yet  we  have  no 
such  literature  which  reflects  even  the  surfece  of  American 
life,  certainly  nothing  which  portrays  our  intensity  of  life,  our 
hope,  or  even  our  daily  doings  and  drivings,  as  the  Odyssey 


24  PoUUcal  Destmation  qf  America.  [Dee. 

paints  old  Greek  life,  or  Don  Quixote  and  Gil  Bias  portray 
bpanish  life.     literary  men  are  commonly  timid ;  ours  know 
they  are  but  poorly  fledged  as  yet,  so  dare  not  fly  away  from 
the  parent-tree,  but  hop  timidly  from  branch  to  branch.     Our 
writers  love  to  creep  about  in  the  shadow  of  some  old  renown, 
not  venturing  to  soar  away  into  the  unwinged  sdr,  to  sing  of 
things  here  and  now,  making  our  life  classic.    So,  without  the 
grace  of  high  culture  and  the  energy  of  American  thought, 
tiiey  become  weak,  cold,  and  poor ;  are  "  curious,  not  know- 
ing, not  exact,  but  nice."     Too  fastidious  to  be  wise,  too 
/unlettered  to  be  elegant,  too  critical  to  create,  they  prefer  a 
\dull  saying  that  is  old  to  a  novel  form  of  speech,  or  a  natural 
J  expression  of  a  new  truth.     In  a  single  American  work, — 
\and  a  famous  one,  too,  —  there  are  over  sixty  similes,  not  one 
priginal,  and  all  poor.    A  few  men,  conscious  of  this  defect, 
Ahis  sin  agmst  the  Holy  Spirit  of  Literature,  go  to  the  oppo- 
'  site  extreme,  and  are  American-mad ;  they  wilfully  talk  rude, 
write  in-numerous  verse,  and  play  their  harps  all  janglmg,  out 
of  tune.    A  yet  fewer  few  are  American  without  madness. 
One  such  must  not  here  be  passed  by,  alike  philosopher  and 
bard,  in  whose  writings  ^^  ancient  wisdom  shmes  wiiii  new- 
bom  beauty,"  and  who  has  enriched  a  genius  thoroughly 
American  in  the  best  sense,  with  a  cosmopoUtan  culture  and  a 
literary  skiU,  which  were  wonderful  in  any  land.    But  of 
American  literature  in  general,  and  of  him  in  special,  more 
shall  be  said  at  another  time. 

Another  remarkable  feature  is  our  Excessive  Love  of  Ma- 
terial Things.  This  is  more  tiian  a  Utilitarianism — a  pref- 
erence of  the  useful  over  iiie  beautiful.  The  Puritan  at 
Plymouth  had  a  corn-field,  a  cabbage-garden,  and  a  patch  for 
potatoes,  a  school-house,  and  a  church,  before  he  sat  down  to 
play  the  fiddle.  He  would  have  been  a  fool  to  reverse  this 
process.  It  were  poor  economy  and  worse  taste  to  have 
painters,  sculptors,  and  musicians,  while  tiie  rude  wants  of  the 
body  are  uncared  for.  But  our  fault  in  this  respect  is,  that 
we  place  too  much  the  charm  of  life  in  mere  material  things, 
— houses,  lands,  well  spread  tables,  and  elegant  furniture, — 
not  enough  in  man,  in  virtue,  wisdom,  genius,  religion,  greair 
ness  of  soul,  and  nobleness  of  life.  We  mistake  a  perfection 
of  the  means  of  manliness  for  the  end — manhood  itself.  Yet 
the  housekeeping  of  a  Shakspeare,  Milton,  Franklin,  had 
only  one  thing  worth  boasting  of.     Strange  to  say,  that  was 


1848.]  Political  DutiwOum  of  America.  25 

the  master  of  the  house.  A  rich  and  yolgar  man  once  sported 
a  coach  and  four,  and  at  its  first  turn-out  rode  into  the  great 
commercial  street  of  a  large  town  in  New  England.  ^'  How 
fine  you  must  feel  with  your  new  coach  and  four,"  said  one 
of  his  old  friends,  though  not  quite  so  rich.  ^'  Yes,"  was  the 
reply,  ^^  as  fine  as  a  beetle  in  a  gold  snuff'box."  All  of  his 
kincured  are  not  so  nice  and  discriminating  in  theur  self-con- 
sciousness. 

This  practical  materialism  is  a  great  affliction  to  us.  We 
think  a  man  cannot  be  poor  and  great  also.  So  we  see  a  great 
man  sell  himself  for  a  UtUe  money,  and  it  is  thought  '^  a  good 
operation."  A  conspicuous  man,  in  praise  of  a  certain  paint- 
er, summed  up  his  judgment  with  this :  ^^  Why,  sir,  he  has 
made  twenty  thousand  dollars  by  his  pictures."  "  A  good  deal 
more  than  Michael  Angelo,  Leonardo,  and  Raphael  together," 
might  have  been  tiie  reply.  But  't  is  easier  to  weigh  purses 
thim  artistic  skill.  It  was  a  characteristic  praise  bestowed  in 
Boston  on  a  distinguished  American  writer,  that  his  book 
brought  him  more  money  than  any  man  had  ever  realized  for 
an  original  work  in  this  country.  ^^  Commerce,"  said  Mr. 
Pitt,  ^'  having  got  into  both  houses  of  Parliament,  privilege 
must  be  done  away,"  —  the  privilege  of  wit  and  genius,  not 
less  tiian  rank.  Clergymen  estimate  their  own  and  their 
brothers'  importance,  not  by  their  apostolical  g^,  or  even 
apostolic  succession,  but  by  tiie  value  of  the  living. 

All  other  nations  have  this  same  fiitult,  it  may  be  sud.  But 
there  is  this  difference :  in  other  nations  the  tmngs  of  a  man 
are  put  before  the  man  himself;  so  a  materialism  which  exalts 
the  accidents  of  the  man — rank,  wealth,  birth,  and  the  like 
—  above  the  man,  is  not  inconsistent  with  the  general  Idea  of 
England  or  Austna.  In  America  it  is  a  contradiction.  Be-  I  v 
sides,  in  most  civiUzed  countries,  there  is  a  class  of  men  living  I 
on  inherited  wealth,  who  devote  their  lives  to  politics,  art, 
science,  letters,  and  so  are  above  the  mere  material  elegance 
which  surrounds  them.  That  class  has  often  inflicted  a  deep 
wound  on  society,  which  festers  long  and  leads  to  serious 
trouble  in  the  system,  but  at  the  same  time  it  redeems  a  nation 
from  the  reproach  of  mere  material  vulgarity ;  it  has  been 
the  source  of  refinement,  and  has  warmed  into  life  much  of  the 
wisdom  and  beauty  which  have  dience  spread  over  all  the  world. 
In  America  tiiere  is  no  such  class.  Young  men  inheriting 
wealth  very  rarely  turn  to  any  thing  so  noble ;  they  either 
convert  their  talents  mto  gold,  or  their  gold  into  furniture. 


26  Political  Destination  of  Ameriea.  [Dec. 

wines,  and  confectionary.  A  young  man  of  wealth  does  not 
know  what  to  do  with  himself  or  it ;  a  rich  young  woman  seems 
to  have  no  resource  but  marriage !  Yet  it  must  be  confessed, 
that  at  least  in  one  part  of  the  United  States  wealth  flows 
freely  for  the  support  of  public  institutions  of  Education. 

Here  it  is  difficult  for  a  man  of  science  to  live  by  his 
thought.  Was  Bowditch  one  of  the  first  mathematicians  of 
his  age  ?  He  must  be  at  the  head  of  an  annuitv  office.  K 
Socrates  should  set  up  as  a  dealer  in  money,  ana  outwit  the 
Brokers  as  formerly  the  Sophists,  and  shave  notes  as  skilfully 
as  of  old,  we  should  think  him  a  great  man.  But  if  he  adopt- 
ed his  old  plan,  what  should  we  say  of  him  ? 

Manliness  is  postponed  and  wealth  preferred.  "  What  a  fine 
house  is  this,"  one  often  says ;  "  what  furniture ;  what  feasting. 
But  the  master  of  the  house ! — why  every  stone  out  of  the  wdl 
laughs  at  him.  He  spent  all  of  himself  in  getting  this  pretty 
show  together,  and  now  it  is  empty,  and  mocks  its  owner.  He 
is  the  emblematic  coffin  at  the  Egyptian  feast."  '*  Oh,  man ! " 
says  the  looker  on,  '^  why  not  furnish  thyself  with  a  mind,  and 
conscience,  a  heart  and  a  soul,  before  getting  all  this  brass 
and  mahogany  together ;  this  beef  and  these  wines."  The 
poor  wight  would  answer,  —  "  Why,  sir,  there  were  none  such 
m  the  market ! " — The  young  man  does  not  say,  "  I  will  first 
of  all  things  be  a  man,  and  so  being  will  have  this  thing  and 
the  other,"  putting  the  agreeable  after  the  essential.  But  he 
says,  "  first  of  all,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  I  will  have  money, 
the  manhood  may  take  care  of  itself."  He  has  it,  —  for 
tough  and  hard  as  the  old  world  is,  it  is  somewhat  fluid  before 
a  strong  man  who  resolutely  grapples  with  difficulty  and  mil 
swim  through;  it  can  be  made  to  serve  his  turn.  He  has 
money,  but  the  man  has  evaporated  in  the  process ;  when  you 
look  he  is  not  there.  True,  other  nations  have  done  the  same 
thing,  and  we  only  repeat  their  experiment.  The  old  Devil  of 
Conformity  says  to  our  American  Adam  and  Eve,  ^^  do  this  and 
you  shall  be  as  Gods,"  a  promise  as  likely  to  hold  good  as 
the  Devil's  did  in  the  beginning.  A  man  was  meant  for  some- 
thmg  more  than  a  tassel  to  a  large  estate,  and  a  woman  to  be 
more  than  a  rich  housekeeper. 

With  this  oflensive  materialism  we  copy  the  vices  of  feudal 
aristocracy  abroad,  making  our  vulgarity  still  more  ridiculous. 
We  are  ambitious  or  proud  of  wealth,  which  is  but  labor  stor- 
ed up,  and  at  the  same  time  are  ashamed  of  labor,  which  is 
wealtii  in  process.    With  all  our  talk  about  Democracy,  labor 


1848.]  Polttieal  Deitination  of  America.  27 

is  lliought  less  honorable  in  Boston  than  in  Berlin  and  Leipsio. 
Thriving  men  are  afraid  their  children  will  be  shoemakers,  or 
ply  some  other  honorable  and  useful  craft.  Yet  little  pains 
are  taken  to  elevate  the  condition  or  improve  the  manners  and 
morals  of  those  who  do  all  the  manual  work  of  society.  The 
strong  man  takes  care  that  his  children  and  himself  escape 
that  condition.  We  do  not  believe  that  all  stations  are  alike 
honorable  if  honorably  filled ;  we  have  little  desire  to  equalize 
the  burthens  of  life,  so  that  there  shall  be  no  degraded  class ; 
none  cursed  with  work,  none  with  idleness.  It  is  popular  to 
endow  a  college ;  vulgar  to  take  an  interest  in  common  schools. 
Liberty  is  a  fact.  Equality  a  word,  and  Fraternity  —  we  do  « 
not  think  of  yet. 

In  this  struggle  for  material  wealth  and  the  social  rank 
which  is  based  wereon,  it  is  amusing  to  see  the  shifting  of  the 
scenes ;  the  social  aspirations  of  one  and  the  contempt  with 
which  another  rebuts  the  aspirant.  An  old  man  can  remem- 
ber when  the  most  exclusive  of  men,  and  the  most  golden,  had 
scarce  a  penny  in  their  purse,  and  grumbled  at  not  finding  a 
place  where  they  would.  Now  the  successful  man  is  ashamed 
of  the  steps  he  rose  by.  The  gentieman  who  came  to  Boston 
half  a  centurv  ago,  with  all  his  worldly  goods  tied  up  in  a  cot- 
ton handkercmef,  and  that  not  of  so  large  a  pattern  as  are  made 
now-a-days,  is  ashamed  to  recollect  that  his  father  was  a  Cur- 
rier, or  a  Blacksmith,  or  a  Skipper  at  Barnstable  or  Beverly ; 
ashamed,  also,  of  his  forty  or  fifty  countrv  cousins,  remarkable 
for  nothing  but  their  large  hands  and  their  excellent  memory. 
Nay,  he  is  ashamed  of  his  own  humble  beginnings,  and  sneers 
at  men  starting  as  he  once  started.  The  generation  of  Eng- 
lish ^^  Snobs "  came  in  with  the  Conqueror,  and  migrated  to 
America  at  an  early  day,  where  they  continue  to  thrive  mar- 
vellously—  the  chief  "  conservative  party  "  in  the  land. 

Through  this  contempt  for  labor  a  certain  affectation  runs 
through  a  good  deal  of  American  society,  and  makes  our  aris- 
tocracy vulgar  and  contemptible.  What  if  Bums  had  been 
ashamed  of  his  plough,  and  Franklm  had  lost  his  recollection 
of  the  candle-moulds  and  the  composing-stick  ?  Mr.  Chubbs, 
who  sot  rich  to-day,  imitates  Mr.  Swipes,  who  got  rich  yestei^ 
day,  Duys  the  same  furniture,  gives  similar  entertidnments,  and 
counts  himself  ^^  m  good  a  man  as  Swipes,  any  day.''  Nay, 
he  goes  a  littie  beyond  him,  puts  his  servants  in  Uvery,  with 
the  Chubbs  arms  on  the  button ;  but  the  new-found  family 
arms  are  not  descriptive  of  the  character  of  the  Chubbses^  or 


28  PoUUeal  DestinaUan  of  America.  [Deo. 

of  their  origin  and  history — only  of  their  vanity.  Then  Mr. 
Swipes  looks  down  on  poor  Cjiubhs^  ^aad  ciirls  his  lip  with 
scorn ;  calls  him  a  "  parvenu,"  "an  upstart,"  " a  plebeian," 
speaks  of  him  as  one  of  "  that  sort  of  people,"  "  one  of  your 
ordinary  men ; "  "  thrifty  and  well  off  in  the  world,  but  a  little 
vulgar."  At  the  same  time  Mr.  Swipes  looks  up  to  Mr. 
Bung,  who  got  rich  the  day  before  yesterday,  as  a  gentleman 
of  old  family  and  quite  distinguished,  and  receives  from  that 
quarter  the  same  treatment  he  bestoWs  on  his  left-hand  neigh- 
bour. The  real  gentleman  is  the  same  all  the  world  over. 
Such  are  by  no  means  lacking  here,  while  the  pretended  gen- 
tlemen swarm  in  America.  Chaucer  said  a  good  word  long 
ago: 

* — This  is  not  mine  intendment 


To  clepen  no  wight  in  no  age 
^  */  eentle  for  ma  I' 
But' whoso  that  is  Tirtnous, 


And  in  his  port  not  ontrag<fons : 
When  snch  one  thou  see*st  thee  beforn, 
Though  he  be  not  gentle  born, 
Thou  ma^est  well  see  this  in  soth. 
That  he'  is  gentle,  because  he  doth 
As  'longeth  to  a  eentleman ; 
Of  them  none  otner  deem  I  can ; 
For  certainly  withonten  drede, 
A  churl  is  deem^  by  his  deed. 
Of  high  or  low,  as  ye  may  see, 
Or  of  what  kindred  that  he  be." 

It  is  no  wonder  vulgar  men,  who  travel  here  and  eat  our 
dinners,  laugh  at  this  form  of  vulgarity.  T^er  men  see  its 
cause,  and  prophesy  its  speedy  decay.  Every  nation  has  its 
aristocracy,  or  controlling  class :  in  some  lands  it  is  permanent 
— an  aristocracy  of  blood ;  men  that  are  descended  from  distin- 
guished warriors,  from  the  pirates  and  freebooters  of  a  rude 
age.  The  NobiUty  of  England  are  proud  of  tiieir  fathers' 
deeds,  and  emblazon  tiie  symbols  thereof  in  tiieir  family  arms, 
emblems  of  barbarism.  Ours  is  an  aristocracy  of  wealth,  not 
got  bv  plunder,  but  by  toil,  thrift,  enterprise ;  of  course  it  is  a 
movable  aristocracy :  the  first  fSeonilies  of  the  last  century  are 
now  forgot,  and  their  successors  will  give  place  to  new  names. 
Now  earning  is  nobler  than  robbing,  and  work  is  before  war ; 
but  we  are  ashamed  of  both,  and  seek  to  conceal  the  noble 
source  of  our  wealth.  An  aristocracy  of  gold  is  far  prefera- 
ble to  the  old  and  immovable  nobility  of  blood,  but  it  has  also 
its  peculiar  vices ;  it  has  the  eflfrontery  of  an  upstart,  despises 
its  own  ladder,  is  heartless  and  lacks  noble  principle ;  vulgar 


1848.]  PoKtieal  De$Unatian  of  Ameriea.  29 

and  oordng.  This  lust  of  wealih,  however,  does  us  a  service, 
and  gives  the  whole  nation  a  stimulus  which  it  needs,  and,  low 
as  the  motive  is,  drives  us  to  continual  advancement.  It  is  a 
great  merit  for  a  nation  to  secure  the  largest  amount  of  useful 
and  comfortable  and  beautiful  things  which  can  be  honestij 
earned,  and  used  witii  profit  to  tiie  body  and  soul  of  man.  Only 
when  wealth  becomes  an  Idol,  and  material  abundance  is 
made  the  end,  not  tiie  means,  does  the  love  of  it  become  an 
evil.  No  nation  was  ever  too  rich,  or  over  thrifty,  though 
manv  a  nation  has  lost  its  soul  by  living  wholly  for  the  senses, 
ifow  and  then  we  see  noble  men  living  apart  firom  this  vul- 
garity and  scramble ;  some  rich,  some  poor,  but  both  content 
to  live  for  noble  aims,  to  pinch  and  spare  for  virtue,  religion, 
for  Truth  and  Right.  Such  men  never  fail  from  any  age  or 
land,  but  everywhere  they  are  the  exceptional  men.  Still  they 
serve  to  keep  alive  the  sacred  fire  in  the  hearts  of  young  men, 
rising  amid  the  common  mob  as  oaks  surpass  the  brambles  or 
the  fern. 


In  these  secondary  qualities  of  tiie  people  which  mark  the 
special  signs  of  the  times,  tiiere  are  many  contradictions, 
quality  contending  with  quality;  all  by  no  means  balanced 
into  harmonious  relations.  Here  are  great  fiitults  not  less 
than  great  virtues.  Can  the  national  &ult8  be  corrected? 
Most  certainly  ;  they  are  but  accidental,  coming  from  our  cir- 
cumstances, our  history,  our  position  as  a  people — heteroge- 
neous, new,  and  placed  on  a  new  and  untamed  continent. 
They  come  not  from  the  nation's  soul ;  they  do  not  belong  to 
our  fundamental  Idea,  but  are  hostile  to  it.  One  day  our  im- 
patience of  Authority,  our  philosophical  tendency,  wQl  lead  us 
to  a  right  method,  that  to  fixed  principles,  and  tiien  we  shall 
have  a  Continuity  of  National  Action.  Considering  the  pains 
taken  by  the  fathers  of  the  better  portion  of  America  to  pro- 
mote religion  here,  remembering  how  dear  is  Christianity  to 
the  heart  of  all,  conservative  and  radical — though  men  often 
name  as  Christian  what  is  not — and  seeing  how  Truth  and 
Right  are  sure  to  win  at  last, — it  becomes  pretty  plain  that  we 
shall  arrive  at  true  principles.  Laws  of  the  Universe,  Ideas  of 
Crod ;  then  we  shall  be  in  unison  also  with  it  and  Him.  When 
that  great  defect — lack  of  first  principles — is  corrected,  our 
intensity  of  life,  with  the  Hope  and  confidence  it  inspires,  will 
do  a  great  work  for  us.    We  have  already  secured  an  abun- 


80  PoliUeal  De$tlnaiian  of  America.  [Dec. 

dance  of  material  comforts  hitherto  tmknown ;  no  land  was 
ever  so  fall  of  com  and  cattle,  clothing,  comfortable  houses, 
and  all  things  needed  for  the  flesh.  The  desire  of  those  things 
—  even  the  excessive  desire  thereof —  performs  an  important 
part  in  the  divine  economy  of  the  Human  Race ;  nowhere  is  its 
good  effect  more  conspicuous  than  in  America,  where  in  two 
generations  the  wild  Irishman  becomes  a  decent  citizen,  order- 
ly, temperate,  and  intelligent.  This  done  or  even  a-doing,  as 
it  is  now,  we  shall  go  forth  to  realize  our  great  national  Idea^ 
and  accomplish  the  great  work  of  organizing  into  Institutions 
the  Unalienable  Rights  of  man.  The  great  obstacle  in  the 
way  of  that  is  African  Slavery  —  the  great  exception  in  the 
nation's  history ;  the  national  Sin.  When  that  is  removed — as 
soon  it  must  be  —  lesser  but  kindred  evils  will  easily  be  done 
away ;  the  truth  which  the  Land-Reformers,  which  the  Assuci- 
ationists,  the  Free-traders,  and  others,  have  seen,  dimly  or 
clearly,  can  readily  be  carried  out.  But  while  this  monster 
vice  continues  there  is  little  hope  of  any  great  and  permanent 
national  reform.  The  positive  things  which  we  chiefly  need 
for  this  work,  are  first,  Educiition,  ne^t.  Education,  and  then 
Education,  —  a  vigorous  development  of  the  mind,  conscience, 
affections,  religious  power  of  the  whole  nation.  The  method 
and  the  means  for  that  we  shall  not  now  discuss. 

The  organization  of  Human  Rights,  the  performance  of  Hu- 
man Duties,  is  an  unlimited  work.  If  there  shall  ever  be  a 
time  when  it  is  all  done,  then  the  Race  will  have  finished  its 
course.  Shall  the  American  nation  go  on  in  this  work,  or 
pause,  turn  off,  fall,  and  perish  ?  To  us  it  seems  almost  trea- 
son to  doubt  that  a  glorious  future  awaits  us.  Young  as  we 
are,  and  wicked,  we  have  yet  done  something  which  the  world 
will  not  let  perish.  One  day  we  shall  attend  more  emphati- 
cally to  the  Rights  of  the  Hand,  and  organize  Labor  and  Skill ; 
then  to  the  Rights  of  the  Head,  looking  after  Education,  Sci- 
ence, literature,  and  Art ;  and  again  to  the  Rights  of  the 
Heart,  building  up  the  State  with  its  Laws,  Society  with  its 
families,  the  Church  with  its  goodness  and  piety.  One  day 
we  shall  see  that  it  is  a  shame,  and  a  loss,  and  a  wrong,  to  have 
a  criminal,  or  an  ignorant  man,  or  a  pauper,  or  an  idler,  in  the 
land ;  that  the  jail,  and  the  gallows,  and  the  almshouse  are  a 
reproach  which  need  not  be.  Out  of  new  sentiments  and 
ideas,  not  seen  as  yet,  new  forms  of  society  will  come,  free 
from  the  antagonism  of  races,  classes,  men — representing  the 
American  Idea  in  its  length,  breadth,  deptii,  and  height,  its 


1848.]  PoUUcal  Dettinatian  of  America.  81 

beauty  and  its  tratli,  and  then  the  old  civilization  of  our  time 
shall  seem  barbarous  and  even  savage.  There  will  be  an 
American  Art  commensurate  with  our  Idea  and  akin  to  this 
great  continent ;  not  an  imitation,  but  a  fresh,  new  growth.  An 
American  Literature  also  must  come  with  democratic  freedom, 
democratic  thought,  democratic  power — for  we  are  not  always 
to  be  pensioners  of  other  lands,  doing  nothing  but  import  and 
quote ;  a  literature  with  all  of  German  philosophic  depth,  with 
English  solid  sense,  with  French  vivacity  and  wit,  Italian  fire 
of  sentiment  and  soul,  with  all  of  Grecian  elegance  of  form, 
and  more  than  Hebrew  piety  and  faith  m  God.  We  must  not 
look  for  the  maiden's  ringlets  on  the  baby's  brow ;  we  are  yet 
but  a  girl ;  the  nameless  grace  of  maturity,  and  womanhood's 
majestic  charm,  are  still  to  come.  At  length  we  must  have  a 
system  of  Education,  which  shall  uplift  the  humblest,  rudest, 
worst  bom  child  in  all  the  land ;  which  shall  bring  forth  and 
bring  up  noble  men. 

An  American  State  is  a  thing  that  must  also  be ;  a  State  of 
freemen  who  give  over  brawling,  resting  on  Industry,  Justice, 
Love,  not  on  War,  Cunning,  and  Violence,  —  a  State  where 
Liberty,  Equality,  and  Fraternity  are  deeds  as  well  as  words. 
In  its  time  the  American  Church  must  also  appear,  with  Lib- 
erty, Holiness,  and  Love  for  its  watchwords,  cultivatmg  Reason, 
Conscience,  Affection,  Faith,  and  leading  the  world's  way  in 
Justice,  Peace,  and  Love.  The  Roman  Church  has  been  all 
men  know  what  and  how ;  the  American  Church,  with  freedom 
for  the  Mind,  freedom  for  the  Heart,  freedom  for  the  Soul, 
is  yet  to  be,  sundering  no  chord  of  the  human  harp,  but  tuning 
all  to  harmony.  This  also  must  come ;  but  hitherto  no  one  ha8 
risen  with  genius  fie  to  plan  its  holy  walls,  conceive  its  columns, 
project  its  towers,  or  lay  its  comer  stone.  Is  it  too  much  to 
hope  all  this?  Look  at  the  Arena  before  us  —  look  at  our 
past  history.  Hark !  there  is  the  sound  of  many  million  men, 
the  trampling  of  their  freeborn  feet,  the  murmuring  of  their 
voice  ;  a  nation  bom  of  this  land  that  God  reserved  so  long 
a  virgin  earth,  in  a  high  day  married  to  the  Human  Race,  — 
rismg,  and  swelling,  and  rolling  on,  strong  and  certam  as  the 
Atiantic  tide  ;  they  come  numerous  as  ocean  waves  when  east 
winds  blow,  their  destination  commensurate  with  the  continent, 
witii  Ideas  vast  as  the  Mississippi,  strong  as  the  AUeghanies, 
and  awful  as  Niagara;  they  come  murmuring  littie  of  the 
past,  but,  moving  in  the  brightness  of  their  great  Idea,  and 
casting  its  light  far  on  to  other  lands  and  distant  days — come 
to  the  world's  great  work,  to  organize  the  Bi^ts  of  Man. 


'ly 


82  The  LegdUty  of  American  Slavery.  [Dee. 


Art.  n.— the   LEGALITY    OF   AMERICAN    SLA- 

VERY. 

The  fourth  number  of  this  Review  containg  a  very  elaborate 
article,  in  which  three  positions  are  sought  to  be  maintained ; 
first,  that  negro  slavery,  prior  to  the  Revolution,  had  a  legal 
existence  in  the  British  Colonies,  now  the  United  States  of 
America ;  second,  that  this  legal  existence  was  recognized  and 
continued  by  the  state  constitutions ;  and  third,  that  it  was  rec- 
ognized and  ratified  by  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States. 

The  second  and  third  of  these  propositions  obviously  depend 
upon  the  first,  and  if  that  fuls  tiiey  have  nothing  to  stand 
upon.  Having  in  a  former  number  of  this  Review  maintained 
the  doctrine  that  slavery  in  the  British  colonies  had  no  legal 
basis,  we  feel  at  liberty  to  reply  very  briefly  to  the  article  re- 
ferred to ;  and  the  more  so  as  our  own  former  article  is  therein 
freely  quoted  and  criticized. 

Following  in  the  footsteps  of  Sir  William  Scott,  (afterwards 
Lord  Stowell,)  who,  by  the  way,  was  no  common  lawyer,  but 
an  admiralty  judge,  distinguished  for  that  hostility  to  popular 
rights  which  always  made  the  civil  law  and  its  professors  so 
obnoxious  to  the  common  law  courts  and  the  English  people, 
our  reviewer  attempts  to  limit,  to  retrench,  and  to  belittie  as 
much  as  possible  the  famous  Somerset  case.  But  after  all  he 
IS  obliged  to  admit, — what  indeed  it  would  be  bold  to  deny, 
and  what  is  all  that  any  body  contends  for, — that  it  is  decid- 
ed by  Somerset's  case,  that  negro  slavery  never  was  sanc- 
tioned or  permitted  by  the  law  of  England.  Our  reviewer 
holds,  however,  that  though  not  legal  in  England,  negro  sla- 
very was  made  so  in  the  colonies,  first  by  custom,  and  second- 
ly by  statute.  In  maintaining  this  proportion,  he  confines 
himself  to  Virginia,  tiie  Carolinas,  and  Georgia.  Marvland  he 
omits ;  he  does  not  tell  us  why,  but  it  is  not  very  difficult  to 
coi\]ecture  the  reason.  The  charter  of  Maryland  remained  in 
full  force  down  to  the  period  of  the  Revolution,  and  that  char^ 
ter  contained  an  express  provision  that  all  laws  made  under  it 
should  be  ^^  consonant  to  reason"  and  ^^  not  repugnant  or  con- 
trary^ but  so  far  as  conveniently  may  be,  agreeable  to  the  laws, 
irtatetot*  Mttoms,  and  rights  of  this  our  kingdom  of  England." 
S^  w^gjhi  ktfrt  been  rather  too  bold  to  have  argued,  in  tiie  face 
of  tids  nmpipn  prohibition,  that  the  assembly  of  Maryland  had 
power  to  mtroduce  into  that  colony  the  c(mdition  of  negro  sla- 


1848.]  The  LegdUfy  of  American  Slavery.  88 

very,  pronoanced  by  Lord  Mansfield,  in  the  Somerset  case, 
not  only  unknown  to  the  law  of  En^and,  bat  '^  odious,"  and 
^^  of  such  a  nature  that  it  is  incapable  of  being  introduced  on 
any  reasons^  moral  or  political."  It  is  imagmed,  however,  by 
our  reviewer,  that  Virginia,  the  Carolinas,  and  Georgia  stand 
on  different  ground.  They,  too,  once  had  charters  containing 
restrictions  in  substance  the  same  with  that  in  the  charter  of 
Maryland.  But  these  charters  were  ultimately  taken  away, 
and  the  legislative  authority  vested  in  a  royal  governor  and 
assembly  under  a  commission  and  instructions  from  the  crown. 
We  had  asserted,  in  our  former  article,  that  these  crown  colo- 
nies or  provincial  governments  were  legally  just  as  much  re- 
stricted in  their  power  of  legislation  as  the  charter  colonies, 
and  practically  more  so ;  and  consequently  that  they  had  no 
more  power  than  the  charter  colonies  to  legalize  negro  slavery. 
Upon  this  point  issue  is  taken  with  us.  It  is  maintained,  that 
though  negro  slavery  was  contrary  to  the  law  of  England,  the 
assemblies  of  the  crown  colonies,  with  the  consent  of  the  king, 
had  the  power  to  make  it  legal  there ;  and  that  they  exercised 
this  power  with  the  consent  of  the  king,  and  did  actually  make 
it  legal  tiiere.  The  whole  of  the  article  rests  upon  this  ajsser- 
tion  as  a  pivot ;  and  when  it  is  shown  to  be  groundless,  the 
whole  argument,  with  all  its  mass  of  quotations  and  authori- 
ties, falls  to  Uie  ground.  It  is,  indeed,  a  little  singular,  that 
amid  such  a  profusion  of  references,  no  authority  should  have 
been  quoted  to  sustain  a  position  upon  which  the  whole  argu- 
ment rests. 

Several  different  theories  were  brought  forward  at  different 
times  as  to  the  basis  of  lemslation  in  the  English  colonies.  It 
was  maintained  by  many  English  lawyers,  prior  to  the  revolu- 
tion of  1689,  and  by  some  afterwards,  that  the  king  was  abso- 
lute sovereign  in  the  colonies,  and  had  a  right  to  establish 
there  such  laws  as  he  pleased,  and  that  the  inhabitants  were 
only  entitled  to  such  laws-  as  he  did  actually  establish.  Chcd- 
mers  observes,  (^History  of  the  Revolt  of  the  American  CoUh 
nies^  Vol.  I.,  p.  308,  note)  that  "  the  state  papers  demonstrate 
that  the  most  renowned  jurists  of  the  reign  of  William  had 
formed  no  complete  conception  of  the  nature  of  the  connective 
principle  between  the  parent  country  and  her  colonies."  *'  The 
most  respectable  cabinet  which  that  monarch  ever  enjoyed, 
composed  of  Somers,  Pembroke,  Shrewsbury,  Bridgewater, 
Romnev,  Grodolphin,  and  Sir  William  Trumbull,  denied  to  the 
New  English  the  privilege  of  the  writ  of  habeas  corpus,  because 

NO.  V.  8 


84  The  LegaiUjf  of  American  Slavery.  [Dec. 

it  had  never  been  conferred  on  the  colomsts  by  any  king  of 
England,"  plmlj  supposing  that  the  most  important  of  all 
rights,  the  best  security  of  personal  liberty,  must  result  from 
a  grant  of  the  crown  to  a  subject  beyond  ^e  ocean.  In  the 
game  reign,  the  illustrious  Lord  Holt  himself,  in  relation  to 
this  very  subject  of  slavery,  in  the  case  of  Smith  vs.  BrowUj 
(1  ScUk.j  666,  Soltj  495)  in  which  he  declared  that  no  such 
tiling  as  slavery  was  known  in  England,  and  that  ^^  as  soon  as 
a  negro  came  iato  England  he  is  free,"  while  he  held  on  this 
ground  ihat  indebitatus  assumpsit  could  not  lie  for  the  price 
of  a  slave  sold  in  England,  yet  seemed  to  admit  that  if  the 
dave  had  been  alleged  to  have  been  sold  in  Virginia,  and  the 
laws  sanctioning  slavery  there  had  been  set  out,  the  action 
might  lie ;  because  ^^  the  laws  of  England  do  not  extend  to 
Yirgima.  Being  a  conquered  country  their  law  is  what  the 
king  pleases,  of  which  we  cannot  take  notice  if  it  be  not  set 
forth." 

But  this  arbitrary  doctrine  was  never  admitted  in  the  colo- 
nies ;  and  was  ultimately  abandoned  by  all  English  constitu- 
tionsJ  lawyers.  The  colonists  maintained  that  the^  carried 
with  them  from  England,  or,  being  bom  in  the  colomes  under 
the  king's  allegiance,  inherited  thereby,  all  the  rights,  privi- 
leges, and  immunities  of  British  subjects ;  that  the  great 
charter  and  the  law  of  England  formed  a  part  of  this  inher- 
itance, ihe  birthright  of  every  subject,  and  that  as  the  king 
at  home  possessed  no  power  of  arbitrarily  interfering  with  his 
subjects,  or  altering  the  law  of  levying  taxes  except  by  consent 
of  those  subjects  by  their  representatives  in  parliament — so  he 
could  lay  no  taxes  in  the  colonies,  nor  make  any  local  regula- 
tions there,  except  by  consent  of  the  inhabitants  as  represent- 
ed in  an  assembly. 

This  doctrine  as  to  the  inheritance  of  the  English  law,  was 
fully  established  by  the  English  courts,  (1  Salk.^  411,  2  Peere 
Williams  J  76)  and  is  distincdy  stated  by  Blackstone  (1  Comm.j 
157,)  as  to  uninhabited  countries  discovered  and  planted  by 
English  subjects.  As  to  conquered  or  ruled  countries,  "  that 
have  already  laws  of  their  own,  the  king  may  indeed  alter  or 
change  those  laws ;  but  till  he  does  actually  change  them,  the 
ancient  laws  of  the  country  remain,  unless  such  as  are  against 
the  law  of  God."  (lb.) 

According  to  both  these  theories,  the  consent  and  coopera- 
tion of  the  king  was  absolutely  essential  to  colonial  legislation. 
By  the  first  theory,  the  colonial  assemblies,  whether  authorized 


1848.]  The  Legality  of  American  Slavery.  85 

by  express  grant,  as  in  the  charter  colonies,  or  by  the  gover- 
nor's commission  and  instructions,  as  in  the  crown  colonies,  were 
mere  creatures  of  the  king,  unable  to  go  beyond  the  powers 
expressly  conferred  upon  them  in  the  instruments  by  which  • 
they  were  authorized.  And  even  by  the  second  theory,  al- 
lowing that  legislation  by  an  assembly  was  not  a  mere  grace 
from  the  king,  but  a  right  of  the  colonists,  still  the  king's^ 
assent  was  essential  to  legislation,  and  no  acts  could  have  any 
binding  force  to  the  enactment  of  which  he  had  not  expressly 
or  implicitly  consented.  We  shall  therefore  be  willing  to  ad> 
mit,  for  the  purpose  of  this  argument,  what  our  reviewer  as- 
sumes as  his  foundation  doctrine,  but  what  certainly  never  was 
true, — since  Parliament  claimed  and  was  admitted  to  be  the 
supreme  le^slature  of  the  British  dominions,  and  down  to  the 
Revolution  exercised  the  right  in  unnumbered  instances  of  in- 
terfering with  the  internal  polity  of  the  colonies, — "that  with 
the  concurrence  of  the  king,  the  assembly  of  a  royal  province 
was  as  completely  unlimited  in  its  powers  of  legislation  over  all 
matters  of  internal  polity  as  parliament  itself  was  in  England." 
We  will  admit,  for  the  purpose  of  the  argument,  that  the  king 
and  the  colonial  assemblies  might  have  concurred  in  setting 
the  law  of  England  at  defiance  by  the  legal  establishment  of 
slavery  in  the  colonies.  But  in  point  of  fact  we  allege  and 
will  show  that  the  king  never  did  so  concur ;  and,  therefore, 
that  any  such  attempted  legislation  on  the  part  of  the  colo- 
nies was  merely  void. 

It  is  to  be  observed  that  the  consent  of  the  king  to  colonial 
acts  of  legislation  was  not  expressly  and  separately  given,  as  it 
was  to  acts  of  parliament.  Ho  acted  in  this  matter  by  his 
agent,  the  royal  governor,  whose  assent  to  any  act  was  consid- 
ered as  bindmg  on  the  king  till  by  special  proclamation  he  de- 
clared his  dissent.  But  to  bind  the  king,  that  assent  by  the 
governor  must  have  been  ^ven  in  conformity  to  his  commis- 
sion and  instructions,  his  only  authority  for  giving  it  at  all ; 
and  by  those  commissions  and  instructions  the  governor  and 
assembly  were  only  authorized  to  enact  laws  not  "  repugnant 
but  as  near  as  may  be  agreeable  to  the  laws  and  statutes  of 
our  kingdom  of  Great  Britain."  Such  are  the  terms  of  the 
commission  printed  in  Stokes;  and  we  challenge  the  proof 
that  any  royal  governor  ever  received  a  commission  which  did 
not  contsdn  in  substance  the  same  limitation. 

And  in  accordance  with  this  view  of  the  case  are  all  the 
authorities.     Thus  Blackstone  (1  Comm,^  108,)  speaks  of 


86  The  Legality  of  American  Slavery.  [Dec. 

^^  provincial  establishments,"  meaning  thereby  crown  colonies, 
^^  tiie  constitutions  of  which  depend  on  the  respective  commis- 
sions issued  by  the  crown  to  the  governors,  and  the  instroo- 
tions  which  usually  accompany  those  commissions ;  under  the 
authority  of  which  provisional  assemblies  are  constituted  with 
the  power  of  making  heal  ordinances  not  repugnant  to  the  law 
of  ±!nglandy 

So  Story,  in  his  account  of  these  same  governments,  (1 
Comm.j  143,)  says,  ^^  The  commissions  also  contained  authority 
to  convene  a  general  assembly  of  representatives  of  the  free- 
holders and  planters,"  "  which  assemblies  had  the  power  of 
making  local  laws  and  ordinances  not  repugnant  to  the  laws  of 
England,  but  as  near  as  may  be  agreeable  thereto."  It  is  a 
little  singular  that  our  reviewer,  who  cites  these  very  pages  of 
Blackstone  and  Story  for  another  purpose,  should  not  have 
seen  the  bearing  of  these  passages  on  his  argument.  He  en- 
deavours, indeed,  to  throw  off  this  unwelcome  impediment  of 
the  royal  conmiission,  by  alleging  that  ^^  such  a  commissicm 
cannot  be  deemed  a  constitution,  because  a  constitution  which 
exists  only  at  the  pleasure  of  the  ruler  is  really  no  constitution 
at  all."  The  constitution  of  Massachusetts  exists  only  at  the 
pleasure  of  the  ruler,  that  is,  the  sovereign  people  of  the  Com- 
monwealth, who  made  it.  As  often  ^^as  suits  their  whim" 
they  make,  revoke,  and  annul  "  every  clause,  article,  and  thing 
therein  contained."  Yet  for  all  that  it  is  not  the  less  a  con- 
stitution, restrictive  of  the  powers  of  the  state  government. 
We  must  be  permitted,  therefore,  still  to  hold,  with  Blackstone 
and  Story,  that  these  commissions  were  ^Hhe  fundamental 
constitutions  of  the  provinces,"  and  that  all  acts  of  the  colonial 
assemblies  passed  in  defiance  of  the  restrictions  which  they 
imposed,  lacked  the  essential  ingredient  of  the  royal  consent, 
and,  in  a  legal  point  of  view,  were  absolutely  nugatory.  To 
this  very  point  of  the  legal  futility  of  any  attempt  to  legalize 
slavery  in  the  colonies,  contrary  to  English  law,  we  shall  quote 
the  authority  of  Lord  Hardwicke.  Lord  Hardwicke  was  one 
of  those  learned  lawyers  who  mamtained,  notwithstanding 
Holt's  opinion  to  the  contrary,  that  negroes  might  be  held  as 
slaves  even  in  England,  to  which  effect,  when  attorney-general 
in  1719,  he  had  given  a  written  opinion  in  conjunction  with 
Talbot,  then  solicitoi^general.  When  sitting  twenty  years  af- 
terwards as  Chancellor,  Lord  Hardwicke  had  occasion  to  refer 
to  this  opinion,  which  he  still  maintained  to  be  good  law,  and 
he  disapproved  of  Lord  Holt's  doctrine  that  the  moment  a  slave 


1848.]  The  Legality  of  American  Slavery.  37 

sets  foot  in  England  he  becomes  free,  by  declaring  tiiat  no  rea- 
son could  be  found  "  why  they  should  not  be  equally  so  when 
ihey  set  foot  in  Jamaica,  or  any  other  English  plantation.  All 
our  colonies  are  subject  to  the  law  of  England^  although  as  to 
some  purposes  they  have  laws  of  their  own."  Not,  however, 
as  Lord  Hardwicke  implies,  for  the  purpose  of  introducing  a 
condition  of  slavery,  or  any  thing  else,  which  the  law  of  Eng- 
land did  not  allow ;  and  thus  far,  at  least,  the  doctrine  of  this 
case  is  good  law.  (See  Ambler j  76.     Peame  vs.  lAsle.^ 

So  much  for  the  pretended  legalization  of  slavery  in  the 
crown  colonies  by  statute.  But  even  independent  of  any 
statute,  our  reviewer  maintains  that  slavery  might  become 
legalized  in  those  colonies  by  custom. 

Now,  admitting  that  the  modern  common  law  consists,  to  a 
great  extent,  of  modem  customs  sanctioned  by  the  courts,  and 
admitting  that  the  colonial  courts  had  the  same  right  of  giving 
the  character  of  law  to  colonial  customs,  yet  it  was  not  every 
custom,  good,  bad,  or  indifferent,  that  was  capable  of  such  a 
sanction.  It  must  have  been  a  custom  good  in  itself,  tending 
to  promote  the  ends  of  justice,  and  not  in  contradiction  to  any 
established  right  previously  existing.  Will  any  body  pretend 
that  slavery  was  such  a  custom  ?  The  courts  were  under  the 
same  restrictions  as  the  assemblies.  What  the  assemblies 
could  not  do  directly,  the  courts  could  not  do  indirectly.  Nor 
does  there  exist  the  slightest  evidence  that  any  colonial  court 
ever  pretended  to  sustidn  slavery  on  this  ground  of  custom. 
On  the  contrary,  both  courts  and  assemblies  acted  on  the  pre- 
sumption that  there  was  nothing  in  the  English  law  which 
made  negro  slavery  illegal,  and  that  the  colonial  statutes  au- 
thorizing it  were  therefore  binding.  They  acted  under  a  mis- 
apprehension cf  the  English  law ;  but  their  mistake  on  this 
point  cannot  affect  any  body's  legal  rights. 

It  was  not  the  less  true  that  negro  slavery  was  not  allowed 
by  the  laws  of  England.  The  decision  of  this  point  in  Somer- 
set's case  set  free  not  less  than  fourteen  or  fifteen  thousand 
negroes  held  in  bondage  in  that  country — so  we  are  told  in  the 
report  of  the  case ;  and  so  far  as  the  mere  matter  of  legal  right 
was  concerned,  it  established  the  freedom,  also,  of  every  slave 
in  the  colonies ;  and  this  inevitable  consequence  of  this  de- 
cision had  been  foretold,  as  we  have  seen,  by  Lord  Hardwicke, 
twenty  years  or  more  before. 

At  the  time,  then,  when  the  first  state  constitutions  were 
framed,  slavery  existed  in  the  states  not  as  a  vested  legal  right, 


88  The  Legality  of  American  Slavery.  [Dec. 

but  as  a  mere  wrong  and  usurpation.  The  framers  of  those 
constitutions  did  not  attempt  to  confer  upon  it  any  new  charac- 
ter of  right  or  legality.  They  left  it  exactly  where  it  stood 
before,  avoiding,  indeed,  all  direct  reference  to  it.  But  this 
is  a  point  which  we  have  fully  handled  in  a  former  article,  and 
with  which  it  is  not  necessary  again  to  weary  our  readers. 

We  will  only  add,  that  this  matter  of  the  legality  of  slavery 
is  one  we  are  glad  to  see  discussed,  because  we  feel  satisfied 
that  the  more  it  is  discussed,  the  plainer  it  will  become  that  the 
only  law  upon  which  slavery  rests  is  the  lynch  law  of  force  and 
violence.  We  deny  altogether  that  the  states  of  this  union 
have  or  ever  had  any  power  to  legislate  a  part  of  their  inhab- 
itants into  slavery.  Though  they  claim  to  be  sovereign  and 
independent,  they  have  been  at  all  times,  and  still  are,  greatly 
limited  and  restrained  in  their  legislative  powers.  While  col- 
onies they  were  restricted,  as  we  have  just  proved,  from  mak- 
ing laws  repugnant  to  those  of  England,  and  of  course  from 
subjecting  any  of  the  king's  natural  bom  subjects  to  slavery. 
There  was,  indeed,  a  very  important  distinction  on  this  point, 
too  apt  to  be  overlooked  in  these  discussions.  Whatever  the 
condition  might  legally  be  of  those  unfortunate  aliens,  pur- 
chased in  Africa  as  slaves  and  brought  to  America  and  sold  to 
the  planters ;  suppose,  even,  that  it  might  have  been  conso- 
nant to  English  law  to  retain  them  as  servants  for  life,  as 
Blackstone  seems  to  have  imagined ;  yet  the  case  was  very 
different  as  to  their  children  bom  in  the  colonies,  who  were  in 
every  respect  natural  bom  subjects  of  the  king  of  England, 
and  entitled  to  all  the  rights  of  Englishmen,  which  the  colo- 
nial legislatures  had  no  power  to  invade.  These  alien  Africans, 
be  it  observed,  would  furnish  ample  material  for  the  colonial 
state  laws,  and  all  constitutional  compromises  to  act  upon, 
without  involving  any  native  bom  Americans  in  the  fete  of 
slavery. 

Before  the  colonies  escaped  from  this  restraint  of  English 
laws,  they  had  already  subjected  themselves  to  a  new  one  by 
entering  into  a  confederacy  against  Great  Britain,  of  whicn 
the  avowed  object  was,  to  maintain  the  rights  of  human  nature. 
"  Let  it  be  remembered,  finally,"  says  Congress,  in  its  address 
to  the  states,  on  the  termination  of  the  Revolutionary  War, 
^^  that  it  has  ever  been  the  pride  and  boast  of  America,  that 
the  rights  for  which  she  contended  were  the  rights  of  human 
nature." 

When  the  colonists  set  forth  in  their  Declaration  of  Inde- 


1848.]  The  Law  of  Evidence.  89 

pendence,  as  the  justification  and  basis  of  the  stand  they  had 
taken,  the  natural  right  of  all  men  to  life,  liberty,  and  the 
pursuit  of  happiness,  they  must  be  esteemed  as  pledging 
themselves  to  the  world  and  to  each  other  for  the  recognition 
and  midntenance  of  that  right.  Nor  was  this  declaration  the 
mere  act  of  the  Continental  Congress,  whose  power  might  be 
disputed ;  for  it  was  distinctly  and  solemnly  ratified,  adopted, 
and  confirmed  by  eyery  individual  state  in  the  union.  From 
that  moment,  then,  it  was  a  solemn  pledge  on  the  part  of  all 
the  states,  and  a  tacit  condition  of  the  union,  that  slavery 
should  be  done  away  with  as  soon  as  possible.  By  adopting, 
two  years  before,  the  non-importation  agreement,  known  as  the 
American  Association,  the  states  had  already  pledged  them- 
selves to  import  no  more  slaves ;  a  pledge  ^from  which  they 
were  never  released,  though  the  Carolinas  and  Georgia  chose 
afterwards  to  violate  it,  and  to  insist  on  a  constitutional  per^ 
mission  to  continue  that  violation  for  twenty  years.  The  same 
understanding  as  to  the  abolition  of  slavery  prevailed  when  the 
federal  constitution  was  adopted  ;  it  was  regarded  as  a  transi- 
tory evil,  to  be  speedily  removed,  and  the  greatest  care  was 
taken  not  to  mention  slavery  by  name,  or  to  recognize  in  that 
instrument  any  such  idea  as  property  in  man.  The  northern 
states  have  waited  a  great  while,  patiently,  for  their  southern 
neighbours  to  carry  out  their  agreement.  K  the  conclusion 
should  be  arrived  at  that  the  southern  states  are  unable  or  un- 
willing to  redeem  their  pledge,  certainly  the  least  we  of  the 
North  can  do,  is,  to  proclaim,  everywhere,  our  conviction  of 
the  utter  illegality  of  this  accursed  institution  of  slavery,  and 
of  the  bad  faith  of  the  South  in  prolonging  its  existence. 


/^y     Uh,MX   (PfuA^^l^ 


Art.  III. — A  TreatiBe  of  the  Law  of  Evidence.  By  Simon 
Grbenleap,  LL.  D.,  Royall  Professor  of  Law  in  Harvard 
University.     Boston.     1846.     2  Vols.     8vo. 

A  NEW  work  on  the  law  of  Evidence,  from  the  learned  and 
distinguished  Royall  Professor  of  Law  in  Harvard  University, 
seems  naturally  to  invite  attention,  as  well  from  the  unques- 
tioned ability  of  the  author,  as  from  the  importance  of  the  sub- 
ject. Of  the  work  it  may  be  observed,  that  it  is  a  clear, 
concise,  and  satisfactory  exposition  of  the  law,  with  the  reasons 


40  The  Law  of  Evidmee.  [Dec* 

upon  which  it  rests.  But  it  is  not  bo  much  our  intention  to 
examine  the  professional  merits  of  this  work  of  Mr.  Greenleaf^ 
as  to  invite  the  public  to  a  consideration  of  the  present  state 
of  this  branch  of  the  law,  and  to  the  reforms  which,  we  think, 
it  imperatively  requires.  In  doing  this  we  write  not  so  much 
for  the  professbn  as  for  the  people.  The  subject  should  not 
be  considered  as  referrible  oidj  to  the  peculiar  and  exclusive 
jurisdiction  of  the  bar,  but  as  one  easily  understood  and  fully 
within  the  intellectual  scope  of  aJl  possessmg  any  claims  to  in- 
telligence or  general  information. 

In  the  whole  field  of  law  or  legislation  there  is  no  subject 
of  such  vast  practical  importance  as  the  law  which  determines 
the  admission  or  rejection  of  evidence.  The  substantive  por^ 
tion  of  the  law,  that  which  prescribes  and  ordains,  may  be 
in  the  highest  degree  wise ;  the  criminal  code  may  be  framed 
in  the  soundest  philosophy,  and  with  the  most  judicious  com- 
bination of  the  principles  of  prevention  and  reformation ;  per- 
fection, in  fine,  may  be  predicated  of  each  and  every  portion 
of  the  substantive  brancn  of  the  law,  yet  if  the  rules  of  evi- 
dence are  erroneous,  their  wisdom  is  no  better  than  so  much 
folly,  the  will  of  the  le^lator  is  unheeded,  his  rewards  un- 
reapt,  his  penalties  unimposed. 

Lnportant  as  is  the  subject,  —  and  its  importance  corre- 
sponds to  that  of  all  interests  which  may  be  judicially  endan- 
gered,— yet  it  is  but  recently  that  it  has  received  the  atten- 
tion of  the  public  either  in  Europe  or  in  this  country.  In  the 
Year-books  and  the  earliest  reports  and  digests,  questions  re- 
lating to  the  competency  of  witnesses  or  tiie  admissibility  of 
evidence,  were  of  the  rarest  occurrence.  The  intricate  tech- 
nicalities, the  hairbreadth  distinctions,  the  conflicting  and  con- 
tradictory decisions,  which  form  so  large  a  portion  of  any  trea- 
tise of  evidence,  are  not  to  be  found  in  the  Rollis  and  Fletas  of 
our  early  jurisprudence.  By  the  gradual  accretion  of  deci- 
sions, this  has  now  become  one  of  the  most  important  divisions 
of  the  law,  so  that  he  who  is  thoroughly  versed  in  its  rules 
may  be  considered  almost  prepared  for  the  practice  of  the 
courts  without  any  other  professional  learning. 

In  the  trial  of  Warren  Hastings,  the  injurious  operation  of 
those  rules  was  seen  and  felt  on  a  great  scale.  The  indefati- 
gable industry  and  perseverance,  the  deep  philosophy  of 
Burke ;  the  strength  and  vigor  of  Fox ;  the  thrilling  and  dra- 
matic eloquence  of  Sheridan,  were  seen  to  be  foiled  during  the 
whole  course  of  that  prosecution,  by  the  technical  learning  and 


1848.]  The  Law  of  Evidence.  41 

legal  quibbles  of  a  Law  and  a  Dallas.  The  future  chiefg'ustice 
of  the  king's  bench,  then  just  commencing  that  career  which 
ended  in  the  attainment  of  the  highest  honors  of  the  profes- 
sion, insisted  that  his  client  should  be  tried  according  to  the 
rules  of  evidence  as  they  were  administered  in  courts  of  com- 
mon law  jurisdiction.  The  highest  judicial  tribunal  of  the  na- 
tion, ignorant  of  the  laws  they  were  called  on  to  administer, 
with  a  want  of  self-reliance  naturally  and  appropriately  inci- 
dent to  such  ignorance,  sought  information  of  the  common  law 
judges  as  to  what  they  might  or  might  not  properly  hear,  and 
as  to  what  would  and  what  would  not  afford  instruction  or  aid 
in  the  elucidation  of  the  cause  then  pending  before  them.  The 
common  law  judges  almost  invariably  excluded  the  evidence 
proposed.  Burke,  perceiving  that  the  adoption  of  their  rules 
would  end  in  the  exclusion  of  the  proof  by  which  alone  he  could 
hope  to  convict  the  great  proconsul  of  the  Indies  of  the  high 
crimes  and  misdemeanours  with  which  he  stood  charged,  was 
indignant  that  their  opinions  were  followed  by  the  House  of 
Lords. 

For  the  first  time,  "in  a  report  from  the  committee  of  the 
House  of  Commons  appointed  to  inspect  the  Lords'  Journal, 
made  April  30, 1794,"  the  attention  of  the  House  of  Commons 
was  called  to  the  rules  of  evidence,  and  particularly  to  those 
which  had  been  laid  down  by  the  judges  for  the  guidance  of 
the  House  of  Lords  upon  a  variety  of  questions  submitted  to 
them  for  their  opinion.  Until  that  time,  the  law  of  evidence, 
like  every  other  branch,  had  been  assumed  to  be  the  perfec- 
tion of  human  reason,  and  the  assumption  had  remained  un- 
questioned. In  this  report,  Burke  conceded  the  general  fit- 
ness of  those  rules  in  cases  between  parties,  but  perceiving 
their  efiect  in  the  exclusion  of  the  proof  necessary  to  sustain 
his  cause,  endeavoured  to  distinguish  between  rules  proper  to 
be  adopted  in  ordinary  civil  cases,  and  those  by  which  the  impe- 
rial court  of  parliament  should  be  governed.  He  thought  that 
"  the  committee  could  not  with  safety  to  the  larger  and  more 
remedial  justice  of  the  law  of  parliament  admit  any  rules  or 
pretended  rules,  uncorrected  or  uncontrolled  by  circumstances, 
to  prevsttl  in  a  trial  which  regarded  offences  difficult  of  detec- 
tion, and  committed  far  from  the  sphere  of  the  ordinary  prac- 
tice of  the  courts."  But  Burke,  while  examining  those  rules 
and  endeavouring,  though  ineffectually,  to  shield  the  law  from 
the  reproach  of  "  disgraceful  subtleties,"  and  while  urging  that 
^'  the  lords  ought  to  enlarge  and  not  to  contract  the  rules  of 


42  The  Law  of  Evidence.  [Dec. 

evidence,  according  to  the  nature  and  difficulties  of  the  case,'* 
did  not  perceive  that  the  defect  lay  deeper ;  that  the  rules  of 
the  common  law  were  intrinsically  defective  and  vicious,  un- 
fitted for  the  end  proposed ;  that,  in  reality,  it  mattered  not 
whether  the  tribunal  was  that  of  a  petty  justice  of  the  peace 
or  the  highest  and  most  solemn  tribunal  of  a  great  nation ; 
whether  the  amount  in  litigation  was  the  penny  of  the  poor 
man  or  the  wrongs  of  injured  nations ;  that  the  ascertainment 
of  the  truth,  for  the  purposes  of  judicial  action,  was  the  end 
alike  proposed  in  each,  and  the  modes  of  obtaining  it  most 
fitting  in  one  case,  were  equally  so  in  the  other. 

This  report  of  Burke  is  remarkable  as  being  the  first  in- 
stance in  which  this  branch  of  the  common  law  was  subjected 
to  the  investigation  of  one  not  trained  in  and  bigoted  to  pro- 
fessional pursuits  and  professional  logic.  But  the  time  had 
not  then  arrived,  nor  was  Burke  the  man.  That  entire  free- 
dom from  all  sinister  bias  and  class  mterest ;  that  utter  abne- 
gation of  the  authoritative  force  of  mere  prescription ;  that 
deep  and  all  pervading  philanthropy;  that  power  of  acute, 
accurate,  and  patient  analysis  so  necessary  in  the  examination 
of  the  subject ;  that  profound  and  thorough  knowledge  of  the 
law ;  that  martyr-like  devotion  to  the  refonn  of  long  estab- 
lished abuses ;  that  fearlessness  and  enthusiasm  in  the  prose- 
cution of  cherished  pursuits,  were  wantmg. 

In  the  fuhiess  of  time  Bentham  arose.  Bentham,  the  mas- 
ter in  that  great  work  of  judicial  and  legislative  reform  in 
which  RomiUy  and  Brougham  were  content  to  be  enrolled  as 
disciples.  A  profound  philosopher,  a  laborious  student,  learn- 
ed in  the  codes  of  all  nations,  sagacious,  determined,  inde- 
fetigable  in  the  accomplishment  of  whatever  he  undertook, 
he  devoted  days  and  nights  to  the  great  work  of  judicial  re- 
form. Educated  to  the  bar,  he  knew  well  the  law  and  could 
trace  his  course  through  its  more  than  Daedalian  labyrinths. 
Leaving  the  gtdns  of  legal  traffic  and  the  visions  of  professional 
eminence ;  deserting  the  field  of  politics,  which  lay  open  to 
him ;  filled  with  the  sublime  and  magnificent  idea  of  becoming 
the  law-^ver,  not  of  one  nation  or  people,  but  of  all  nations 
and  tongues,  the  Solon  or  Numa  of  humanity,  in  the  vigor  of 
manhood  he  set  himself  apart  for  that  great  work,  the  concep- 
tion of  which  had  awakened  his  energy  and  enkindled  his 
genius.  Occupying  ground  illustrious  as  having  been  the  res- 
idence of  Milton,  if  he  caught  none  of  his  poetic  inspiration, 
and  we  think  no  one  will  suspect  him  of  having  wandered  in 


1848.]  The  Law  of  Evidmce.  43 

the  to  him  tmgenial  fields  of  poesy,  yet  it  will  not  be  denied 
that  he  was  blessed  with  a  full  measure  of  his  lofty  indepen- 
dence, his  indomitable  love  of  liberty,  and  his  generous  enthu- 
siasm for  the  rights  of  man.  With  ^^  the  ^atest  happiness  of 
the  greatest  number"  as  the  object  to  be  attained,  an  end 
heretofore  too  little  regarded  in  legislation,  he  probed  to  the 
quick  existing  laws  and  institutions.  He  examined  with  the 
mtmost  thoroughness  the  rules  of  procedure  and  the  principles 
of  evidence  as  developed  in  the  English  law.  All  weapons 
seemed  at  his  command ;  wit  the  keenest ;  humor  the  most 
felicitous;  sarcasm  the  most  biting;  logic  unanswered  and 
unanswerable.  In  his  great  work,  The  Mationdle  of  Judicial 
Evidence^  he  placed  its  principles  upon  a  firm  and  solid  foun- 
dation. The  result  to  which  his  investigations  led  him ;  the 
result  to  which  all  intelligent  men  who  have  examined  the  sub- 
ject are  arriving,  is,  that  all,  without  exception,  all  who,  hav- 
ing any  or  all  the  organs  of  sense,  can  perceive,  or  perceiving, 
can  make  known  their  perceptions  to  others,  should  be  received 
as  witnesses.  Their  religious  belief  or  want  of  it ;  their  char- 
acter as  established  mfamous  by  conviction ;  their  relation  to 
the  cause  as  parties,  or  interested  as  attorneys,  or  as  husband 
and  wife  of  those  who  are  parties,  should  be  regarded  as  cir- 
cumstances affecting  only  the  greater  or  lesser  degree  of 
credit  which  should  be  placed  in  their  statements,  but  never 
as  sufficient  reasons  for  exclusion.  In  other  words,  while  the 
credibility  of  witnesses  should  be  most  rigorously  scanned,  the 
question  of  their  competency  should  never  be  raised.  Such 
were  the  conclusions  to  which,  after  a  most  searching  analysis 
of  existing  laws,  he  arrived ;  a  result  the  correctness  of  which 
he  has  established  with  almost  the  precision  and  certainty  of 
mathematical  demonstration. 

Such  are  not  the  conclusions  of  the  common  law.  Such  are 
not  the  conclusions  of  Mr.  Oreenleaf.  Indeed,  in  a  work  writ- 
ten for  a  text  book,  what  is  msdnly  wanted  is,  that  it  should  be 
a  correct  exposition  of  existing  law.  The  work  of  Mr.  Green- 
leaf  can  never  be  regarded  otiber  than  as  a  successful  and  well 
arranged  compilation  of  adjudged  cases.  He  seems,  however, 
never  to  have  thought  of  the  law  save  with  the  docUe  and  ad- 
miring submission  of  a  believer  in  its  infallibility ;  and  the  re- 
forms of  IBSentham  would  meet  with  about  as  much  sympathy 
firom  him  as  John  Calvin  would  have  received  if  he  had  un- 
dertaken to  exhort  a  conclave  of  Roman  cardinals  to  embrace 
his  peculiar  dogmas. 


44  The  Law  of  Evidence.  [Dec. 

As  we  consider  Mr.  Greenleaf  an  able  defender  of  the  ex- 
isting law,  and  as  presenting  with  great  success  the  results  of 
past  decisions  and  the  reasoning  upon  which  they  rest,  we 
propose,  by  examining  the  general  doctrines  of  exclusion,  or 
particular  instances  as  found  in  the  English  law,  to  give  his 
reasoning  as  the  text  of  our  comment. 

It  should  ever  be  borne  in  mind  t^at  litigation  is  rarely 
foreseen ;  that  it  springs  up  unexpectedly ;  that  no  one  can 
foreknow  and  prepare  in  advance  for  the  emergency.  No  one 
goes  around  in  the  ordinary  business  of  life  attended  by  a 
witness,  like  a  familiar  spirit,  who  may  be  always  ready  to  see 
and  hear  what  may  occur ;  nor  if  any  one  were  thus  accompa- 
nied, could  he  be  sure  of  the  presence  of  such  a  witness  when 
the  occasion  in  which  he  might  be  needed  should  arise. 

There  is  no  act  the  most  trivial,  no  contract  the  most  inr 
significant,  which  may  not  become  the  subject  matter  of  litiga- 
tion, or  upon  which  the  most  important  consequences  may  not 
depend,  —  the  hour  of  rising,  of  departing  from  or  returning 
to  our  residence,  the  articles  of  apparel  worn,  the  road  taken, 
the  place  of  stopping,  the  individual  with  whom  conversation 
jnay  have  been  held,  the  topics  of  that  conversation,  the  exact 
questions  put  and  answers  given,  all,  any,  every  thing  which 
man  has  done  or  which  man  can  do.  The  infinite  variety  of  hu- 
man action  is  only  coextensive  with  the  infinite  variety  of  liti- 
gation upon  which  property,  liberty,  or  life  may  depend.  There 
is  no  event,  no  word  spoken,  no  thing  done,  no  motion  of  the 
body,  no  thought  of  the  heart,  which,  in  the  eternal  chain  of 
antecedents  and  consequents,  may  not  become  matters  of  in- 
quiry. In  vain,  then,  can  one  in  advance  guard  his  rights. 
He  can  not  know  how  they  will  be  jeoparded,  nor  if  jeoparded 
by  what  witnesses  the  facts  he  may  deem  of  importance  may 
be  proved.  Whether  they  be  men  of  deficient  or  exuberant 
faith ;  whether  they  be  men  famous  for  integrity  or  infamous 
for  want  of  it  —  whosoever  they  may  be  by  whom  such  facts 
were  perceived,  he  needs  them,  and  if  they  be  the  only  wit- 
nesses, still  greater  is  his  need. 

The  exclusion  of  testimony,  from  whatsoever  source  attaina- 
ble, is  presumably  wrong.  The  judge  needs  testimony,  else 
he  cannot  decide ;  he  requires  proof,  else  he  is  without  the 
means  of  correct  decision.  He  might  as  well  resort  to  the  lot, 
to  ordeals  by  fire,  to  ordeals  by  water,  to  burning  ploughshares, 
to  trials  by  battle,  as  to  attempt  to  decide  without  proof.  So 
obvious  would  all  this  seem,  that  one  would  suppose  that  resort 


1848.]  The  Law  of  Evidence.  46 

i?load  naturally  be  had  for  information  to  all  to  whom  the  facts 
■were  known.  To  the  common  lawyer  it  seemed  otherwise. 
Ordinary  men  seeking  for  information,  inquire  of  those  who 
know.  Extraordinary  men,  learned  men,  lawyers  deeply  im- 
bued with  the  wisdom  of  the  past,  specially  object  to  inquiring 
of  such.  -r 

Exclude  evidence  material,  and  unattcdnable  from  any  other 
source,  for  what  cause  soever  plausible  or  otherwise ;  exclude 
evidence,  and  the  judge,  to  the  extent  of  and  in  proportion  to 
the  importance  of  the  evidence  excluded,  is  deprived  of  the 
means  of  correct  decision.  Exclude  all  evidence  for  any  rea- 
sons, or  for  such  as  have  in  various  instances  been  assigned, 
and  you  compel  the  judge  to  resort  either  to  lot  or  to  arbitra- 
ry will,  not  by  any  means  so  safe  as  the  lot  for  the  determina- 
tion of  the  cause.  You  deprive  him  of  the  very  food  of  justice 
— pabulum  justitice — as  Bacon  terms  it.  Justice  was  beau- 
tifully symboUed  by  the  ancient  Greeks  as  blind.  Deaf  as 
well  as  blmd  she  might  as  well  be,  if  she  is  to  be  precluded 
from  hearing  testimony.  Correct  decision,  the  great  result 
sought  for,  mjunly  depends  upon  the  fulness  of  the  facts  pre- 
sented for  consideration.  Any  source,  every  source,  any  in- 
dividual, every  individual,  no  matter  who  he  mav  be,  to  whom 
any  portion,  however  minute,  of  the  facts  may  be  known,  should 
be  heard.  Scrutinize  his  testimony  as  rigidly  as  you  will,  but 
hear  it.  Because  the  light  of  the  noonday  sun  can  not  be 
had  at  midnight,  should  the  farthing  taper  therefore  be  extin- 
guished ?  Because  evidence  from  the  best  conceivable  sources 
cannot  be  obtained,  shall  none  be  had  ? 

He  who  would  claim  that  evidence  from  any  source  should 
be  rejected,  is  bound  to  show  satisfactory  reasons  for  such  re- 
jection. In  his  chapter  on  the  competency  of  witnesses,  Mr. 
Greenleaf  bases  the  general  doctrines  of  exclusion  upon  the 
following  grounds:  — 

"Although,  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life  temptations  to  prac- 
tise deceit  and  fakehood  may  be  comparativelyyeir,  and  therefore 
men  may  ordinarily  be  disposed  to  believe  the  statements  of  each 
other:  jet  in  judicial  investigations  the  motives  to  pervert  the 
truth  and  to  perpetrate  falsehood  and  fraud  are  so  greatly  muld" 
plied,  that  if  statements  were  received  with  the  same  undiscrimi- 
nating  freedom  as  in  private  life,  the  ends  of  justice  could  with  far 
less  certainty  be  attained.  In  private  life,  too,  men  can  inifuire 
anfl  deter  mute  for  thrmseJves^  whom  they  will  deal  with,  aid  in 
whom  they  will  confide ;  but  the  situation  of  judges  and  jurors 


46  The  Law  of  Midence.  [Dec. 

renders  it  difficult,  if  not  often  impossible,  in  the  narrow  compass 
of  a  trial,  to  investigate  the  character  of  tcitnesses:  and  from  the 
very  nature  of  judicial  proceedings,  and  the  necessity  of  prevent- 
ing the  multiplication  of  issues  to  be  tried,  it  may  often  happen 
that  the  testimony  of  a  witness  unworthy  of  credit,  may  receive  as 
much  consideration  as  that  of  one  worthy  of  the  fullest  confidence. 
If  no  means  were  employed  totally  to  exclude  any  contaminating 
influence  from  the  fountains  of  justice,  this  evil  would  constantly 
occur.  But  the  danger  has  always  been  felt,  and  always  guarded 
against  in  all  civilized  countries.  And  while  all  evidence  is  open 
to  the  objection  of  the  adverse  party,  before  it  is  admitted,  it  has 
been  found  necessary  to  the  ends  of  justice  that  some  kinds  of 
evidence  should  be  uniformly  excluded. 

"  In  determining  what  evidence  shall  be  admitted  and  weighed 
by  the  jury,  and  what  shall  not  be  received  at  all,  or  in  other 
words,  in  distinguishing  between  competent  and  incompetent  wit- 
nesses, a  principle  seems  to  have  been  applied  similar  to  that 
which  distinguishes  between  conclusive  and  disputable  presump- 
tions of  law,  namely,  tlte  experienced  connection  between  the  sit* 
tuition  of  the  witness  and  the  truth  or  falsity  of  his  testimony. 
Thus  the  law  excludes  as  incompetent  those  persons  whose  evi- 
dence in  general,  is  found  more  likely  than  otherwise  to  mislead 
juries :  receiving  and  weighing  the  testimony  of  others,  and  giving 
to  it  that  degree  of  credit  which  it  is  found  on  examination  to  de- 
serve. It  is  obviously  impossible  that  any  test  of  credibility  can 
be  infallible.  All  that  can  be  done  is  to  approximate  to  such  a 
degree  of  certainty  as  will  ordinarily  meet  the  justice  of  the  case. 
The  question  is  not  whether  any  rule  of  exclusion  may  not  some- 
times shut  out  credible  testimony ;  but  whether  it  is  expedient 
that  there  should  be  any  rule  of  exclusion  at^all.  If  the  purposes 
of  justice  require  that  the  decision  of  causes  should  not  be  embar- 
rassed by  statements  generally  found  to  be  deceptive  or  totally 
false,  there  must*be  some  rule  designating  the  class  of  evidence  to 
be  excluded.  And  in  this  case  as  in  determining  the  ages  of  dis- 
cretion and  of  majority,  and  in  deciding  as  to  the  liability  of  the 
wife  for  crimes  committed  in  company  with  the  husband,  and  in 
numerous  other  instances,  the  common  law  has  merely  followed 
the  common  eccperience  of  mankind." — pp.  376,  377. 

Such  are  the  reasons  by  which  Mr.  Greenleaf  would  justify 
the  general  doctrines  of  exclusion.  They  are  fairly  stated  by 
him.  They  are  all  the  law  has  to  give.  Are  they  well  found- 
ed ?    Let  us  examine  them. 

The  main  business  of  life  is  in  hearing  and  reasoning  on 
evidence.  Judicial  action  —  decision  upon  proof — is  an  every 
day  affair.    Evidence,  proof,  testimony,  is  the  same ;  whatever 


1848.]  The  Law  of  Ihndence.  47 

may  be  the  occasions  on  which  it  is  obtained,  or  the  uses  to 
which  it  is  applied.  Whether  it  be  given  "  in  the  ordinary 
aflbirs  of  life  '  or  "judicial  investigations,"  its  probative  force 
is  the  same.  The  individual — party,  wife,  attorney,  convict, 
atheist — no  matter  what  he  may  be,  whose  statements  out  of 
court  would  be  entitled  to,  and  would  receive  credence,  (and 
"  in  the  ordinary  aflfairs  of  life  "  they  might  receive  credence, 
though  it  were  a  party  speaking  of  his  own  interests,  a  wife 
of  her  husband's,  an  attorney  of  his  client's,  a  convict  or  an 
atheist  of  those  of  others,)  would  be  none  the  less  entitled  to 
belief,  because  the  same  statements  in  relation  to  the  same 
subject  matter  should  be  uttered  m  open  court.  "  The  or- 
dinary afiairs  of  life,"  all  business  transactions  between  man 
and  man,  are  conducted  upon  evidence,  and  the  same  princi- 
ples which  guide,  the  same  rules  of  judging  and  weighing  testi- 
mony ate  aUke  applicable  m  "judicial  investigations"  as  " in 
the  ordinary  afl&urs  of  life."  Not  a  day,  not  an  hour  passes 
in  which  every  man  is  not  called  to  act  upon  proof  without 
the  checks,  safeguards,  and  securities  of  judicially  delivered 
testimony.  The  ratio  of  the  value  of  property  or  interests 
upon  and  in  relation  to  which  judicial  action  is,  to  that  in  which 
it  is  not  reqmred,  shows  the  values  thus  respectively  deter- 
mined upon,  and  their  difference,  and  that  but  a  very  trivial 
and  comparatively  minute  portion  of  the  great  business  of  life 
ever  receives  or  requires  judicial  interposition.  "  In  the  or- 
dinary business  of  life,"  were  a  man  to  be  governed  by  the 
rules  of  the  law  as  to  the  sources  from  which  alone  it  would 
be  safe  to  receive  information,  he  would  be  thought  better  fit- 
ted for  a  place  in  a  lunatic  asylum,  than  for  the  management 
of  his  own  affairs.  Two  children  disputing,  of  whom  does  the 
father  inquire  ?  Wishing  to  know  the  truth,  does  he  send  his 
children  away,  and  set  himself  to  gleaning  up  confessional 
fragments  from  his  servants  ?  Was  there  ever  a  lawyer  or  a 
judge  so  idiotic  as  to  be  governed  out  of  court  by  the  rules  which 
are  followed  in  court  in  the  investigation  of  facts  ?  But  if  in 
the  infinite  variety  of  human  afiairs  different  rules  from  those 
adopted  by  the  courts  are  observed  and  seen  to  be  observed 
without  prejudice  or  injury,  does  it  not  afford  a  strong  indica- 
tion that  those  rules  might  be  adopted  in  the  trial  of  causes, 
without  endangering  the  rights  of  property  or  the  peace  of 
society  ? 

"  In  the  ordmary  affairs  of  life,  temptations  to  practise  de- 
ceit and  falsehood  may  be  comparatively  few."    Temptadons 


48  The  Law  of  Evidence.  [Dec. 

few  I  Why,  they  are  as  numerous  as  the  objects  of  human  de- 
sires, as  potent  as  the  hopes  and  fears,  the  losses  and  gains  of 
life.  "  In  judicial  investigations  the  motives  to  pervert  the 
truth  and  perpetrate  falsehood  and  fraud  are  so  greatly  multi- 
plied." How  multiplied  ?  How  little  of  what  man  has  or 
desires  is  ever  the  subject  of  judicial  investigation?  How 
rare  is  litigation  to  each  man.  How  little  of  the  wealth  of 
the  rich  or  the  pittance  of  the  poor,  in  comparison  with  the 
aggregate  possession  of  either,  is  ever  the  subject  matter  of  a 
judicial  contest;  and  if  it  were,  how  is  the  motive  to  ^^ falsehood 
or  fraud  "  thereby  increaaed  ?  The  same  object  is  no  more  an 
object  of  desire,  because  its  attainment  is  to  be  sought  through 
the  intervention  of  judicial  action,  than  if  sought  without  such 
intervention ;  nor  will  there  be  more  likely  to  be  falsehood  to 
allow  it  in  one  case  than  in  the  other.  Multiplication  of  occa- 
sions for  falsehood  there  is  not,  still  less  is  there  of  motives. 
Falsehood  in  the  ordinary  afiFairs  of  life  receives,  when  detect- 
ed, only  the  punishment  of  public  opinion.  Judicially  uttered 
falsehood  is  not  merely  followed  with  loss  of  public  respect, 
but  it  is  or  may  be  followed  by  the  severest  penalties  of  the 
law.  The  ordinary  motives  to  truth  exist  in  their  accustomed 
vigor ;  and  to  these  is  superadded  the  disgrace  of  convicted 
perjury.  The  motives  inducing  falsehood  are  no  greater  be- 
cause the  amount  involved  is  sought  to  be  judicially  obtained. 
Whatever  the  amount  in  question,  one  dollar  or  one  million, 
the  interest  is  no  greater  in  court  than  "  in  the  ordinary  affairs 
of  life,"  when  the  same  amount  is  at  stake,  the  motives  to 
preserve  or  retain  are  the  same,  while  new  motives,  whose 
tendency  is  to  preserve  the  witness  in  the  line  of  truth,  are 
called  into  action.  So  that,  whatever  may  be  the  subject 
matter — property,  character,  what  not  —  the  fact  of  its  being 
judicially  mvestigated  furnishes  no  additional  motives  for  false- 
hood, but  on  the  contrary  many  and  important  securities  for 
truth  not  attainable  in  private  life.  The  fear  of  punishment, 
examination,  and  cross-examination,  the  checks  of  adverse  tes- 
timony, lessen  the  dangers  and  diminish  the  probabilities  of 
&lse  testimony. 

"  In  private  life,  too,  men  can  inquire  and  determine  for 
themselves,  whom  they  will  deal  with  and  in  whom  they  will 
confide ;  but  the  situation  of  judges  and  jurors  renders  it  diffi- 
cult, if  not  impossible,  in  the  narrow  compass  of  a  trial,  to 
investigate  the  character  of  witnesses."  But  what  then  ? 
The  argument,  if  good  for  any  thing,  would  imply  that  judges 


1848.]  The  Lam  of  Evidmce.  49 

and  jurors  were  to  inyeftiigate  for  tliemselreSy  and  because  they 
-would  not  be  able  to  investigate  satisfactorily  the  character 
of  witnesses,  that,  therefore,  ful  such  witnesses  should  be  ex- 
cluded. But  is  this  investigation  pursued  as  to  those  who 
are  received  ?  K  not,  what  is  d&e  force  of  the  argument  as  to 
those  excluded  ?  Suppose  it  ever  so  difiGicult  to  investigate 
^e  character  of  witnesses.  What  then  ?  Is  it  their  business  ? 
Is  it  the  duty  of  the  judge  to  descend  from  the  bench,  the 
juror  to  leave  his  panel,  to  investigate  the  character  of  wit- 
nesses ?  And  are  witnesses  by  classes  to  be  shut  out  because 
it  cannot  be  done  ?  It  is  not  done  as  to  those  received.  Is  it 
not  equally  necessary  that  it  should  be  done  in  one  case  as  in 
the  otiier  f  But  what  is  the  danger  of  deception  on  the  part 
of  the  judge  or  the  jury  ?  The  party  active,  vi^ant,  with 
time  and  means,  will  be  littie  likely  to  permit  his  ri^ts  to  suffer 
from  not  sufficiently  investigating  the  character  of  those  who 
may  be  witnesses  against  him. 

It  is  said,  ^^  it  may  often  happen  that  the  testimony  of  a 
witness  imworthy  of  credit  may  receive  as  much  consideration 
as  that  of  one  worthy  of  the  fullest  confidence ; "  but  does 
any  argument  in  fisivor  of  shutting  out  evidence  arise  from 
that  fact?  Of  what  witness  may  it  not  be  scud,  that  the 
judge  or  the  jury  may  have  erred  in  giving  too  much  or  too 
littie  consideration  to  his  testimony?  If  of  none,  then  to 
what  pos»ble  case  does  not  the  argument  apply  ?  What  wit- 
ness should  ever  be  received  ?  Is  then  exclusion  the  le^timate 
inference,  or  is  it  that  there  should  be  increased  vi^iknce  on 
the  part  of  judge  or  jury  ? 

"  If  no  means  were  employed  totally  to  exclude  any  con- 
taminating influences  from  the  fountain  of  justice  this  evil 
would  constantiy  occur."  But  is  all  contammating  influence 
excluded  ?  Can  it  be  ?  But  what  is  the  evil,  the  constant 
occurrence  of  winch  is  sought  to  be  guarded  against  ?  That 
of  inability  on  the  part  of  judges  or  jurors  to  investigate 
the  character  of  witnesses  ?  That  is  never  done.  The  judge 
who  should  attempt  it  would  be  impeached,  and  the  juror  who 
should  go  about  investigating  for  himself  would  probably  be 
discharged  before  he  had  proceeded  very  extensively  in  his 
inquiries.  Is  the  evil  that  of  believing  witnesses  unworthy 
of  credit  ?  And  is  that  to  be  guarded  against  by  excluding 
all  contanunating  influences  ?  How  can  that  be  done ;  how 
know  in  advance  the  full  effect  of  conservative  influences,  and 
how  they  compare  with  those  which  are  the  reverse,  and  on 

NO.  V.  4 


bO  The  Law  of  JShndenee.  [Dec. 

which  ride  the  balance  will  lie,  for  on  that  depends  the  question  ? 
Would  not  that  inquiry  lead  to  a  multiplication  of  issues  ? 

^^In  determining  what  evidence  shall  be  admitted  and 
weighed  by  the  jury,  and  what  shall  not  be  received  at  all/' 
the  law  is  foimded  upon  ^^  the  experienced  connection  between 
the  eituatian  of  the  witness  and  the  truth  of  his  testimony. 
Thus  the  law  excludes  as  incompetent  those  persons  whose 
evidence  in  general  is  found  more  likely  than  otherwise  to 
mislead  juries."  The  rule  is  then  based  on  experience  of 
the  evils  resulting  firom  an  admission,  at  some  former  time,  of 
the  now  excluded  testimony.  But  this  ^^experienced  con- 
nection "  is  a  matter  of  fact,  itself  to  be  proved  by  testimony 
—  not  by  reasoning.  Mr.  Greenleaf  would  be  much  puzzled 
to  define  that  period  of  the  common  law,  when  parties  or 
those  interested  were  received  as  witnesses,  or  to  ^ow  when 
and  why  the  change  occurred,  by  which  they  were  excluded. 
This  experiment — when  and  where  did  it  take  place;  under 
what  kmg's  reign  ?  In  which  of  the  Tear-books  or  in  the 
later  records  of  judicial  wisdom  are  ^^ found"  those  experi- 
mental cases,  where  those  now  incompetent  were  sworn  to  the 
great  subvendon  of  justice,  and  residts  so  disastarous  ensued 
that  legislative  sagacity  interposed  ?  In  which  of  the  parlia- 
mentary rolls  is  found  the  statute  making  so  great  ana  nec- 
essary changes?  Experienced  connection,  —  why  so  Ceut  as 
there  has  been  any  experience,  it  has  been  of  exception  to 
general  rules,  which  were  so  bad  that  it  was  found  necessary 
for  the  purposes  of  justice  in  innumerable  instances  to  vidate 
them. 

The  true  question  is,  ^^  whether  it  is  expedient  that  there 
should  be  any  rule  of  exclusion  at  all."  That  question  is  no- 
where met.  The  argument  of  Mr.  Greenleaf  does  not  meet 
it.  So  far  as  any  ucibrence  can  be  derived  from  the  experi- 
ence of  ordinary  life,  it  is  ag^nst  him.  So  far  as  the  ^'  expe- 
rienced connection"  is  to  be  conadered  as  a  fact — it  never 
existed.  He  says  the  ^^  common  law  has  merely  followed  com- 
mon experience."  If  by  common  experience  is  meant  the  ex- 
perience of  other  nations,  it  is  obvious  that  unless  their  exclu- 
sions are  the  same^  and  unless,  further  than  that,  they  have 
been  the  result  of  some  "  experienced  connection "  between 
the  admission  of  the  now  excluded  evidence  and  falsehood, 
they  furnish  no  argument  in  favor  of  exclusion,  and  if  so  based, 

Y  they  furnish  an  argument  only  in  the  particular  instances  in 

^  which  the  experience  has  been  had. 


1848.]  The  Law  of  Ihndenee.  61 

What  are  tiie  teachings  of  experience  as  found  in  the  codes 
of  different  nations  ?  The  Jews,  with  little  of  the  spirit  of 
modem  gallantry  either  in  the  rule  or  the  reason  assigned, 
excluded  all  women,  on  account  of  the  leyity  and  boldness  of 
the  sex.  They  likewise  rejected  the  testimony  of  children  un- 
der thirteen  years  of  age,  of  the  deaf,  dumb,  blind,  insane, 
the  relations  and  enemies  of  parties,  publicans,  slaves,  rob- 
bers, those  convicted  of  having  borne  false  witness,  and  those 
who  had  committed  any  crime  worthy  of  death.  The  Mahom- 
etans, in  all  matters  of  property,  received  two  men,  or  one 
man  and  two  women,  to  prove  any  fact,  estimating  ihe  testi- 
mony of  a  woman  at  hall  that  of  a  man  in  trustworthiness. 
By  tiieir  laws  the  moral  character  of  witnesses  was  regarded, 
drunkards,  gamesters,  and  usurers  being  incompetent.  Evir 
dence  in  favor  of  a  son  or  grandson,  or  a  father  or  grandfather, 
was  not  received.  Slaves  could  not  testify  for  their  master  nor 
their  master  for  them ;  nor  could  infidels  and  apostates  be 
heard  when  a  Mussulman  was  a  party. 

The  institutes  of  Menu,  which  for  ages  were  the  law  of  the 
multitudinous  population  of  India,  present  a  curious  illustration 
of  the  caution  with  which  evidence  was  received.  Those  must 
not  be  received  as  witnesses  who  have  a  pecuniary  interest ; 
nor  &miliar  friends,  nor  menial  servants,  nor  enemies,  nor 
men  perjured,  nor  men  grievous  by  disease,  nor  those  who 
have  committed  a  heinous  offence.  The  king  cannot  be  a  wit- 
ness, nor  cooks,  nor  other  mean  artificers,  nor  public  dancers 
and  singers,  nor  men  of  deep  learning  in  Scripture,  nor  a 
student  in  theology,  nor  an.  anchorite,  nor  one  dependent, 
nor  one  of  bad  fame,  nor  one  who  follows  a  cruel  occupation, 
nor  one  who  acts  against  law,  nor  a  decrepit  old  man,  nor  a 
child,  nor  one  man  unless  distingtdshed  for  virtue,  nor  a 
wretch  of  the  lowest  mixed  class,  nor  one  who  has  lost  the 
organs  of  sense,  nor  one  grieved,  nor  a  mad  man,  nor  one 
tormented  with  hunger  or  thirst,  or  oppressed  with  fatigue,  ex- 
cited by  lust,  inflamed  with  wrath,  nor  one  convicted  of  theft. 
A  slave  of  either  sex,  a  blind  man,  a  woman,  a  minor  till  the 
age  of  fifteen  years,  an  old  man  of  eighty  years,  a  leper,  and 
the  like,  were  not  received  as  witnesses. 

These,  it  may  be  said,  are  the  exclusions  of  ignorant  barba- 
rians. If  we  examine  the  Roman  law,  as  found  in  the  re- 
sponses of  her  civilians,  or  the  edicts  of  her  prsetors,  or  the 
rescripts  of  her  emperors  —  the  Roman  law  as  illustarated  by 
the  learning  and  genius  of  the  Gates  and  Scsevolas  of  consu- 


52  The  Law  of  JEvidenee.  [Dec* 

lar,  or  the  Tribonlans  and  Ulpians  of  imperial  Borne — though 
we  may  find  absurdities  less  glaring  than  Hkose  of  the  great 
law-giver  of  the  East,  it  will  s^  be  seen  that  Borne  has  made, 
in  tUs  branch  of  the  law,  but  slight  advances  toward  sound 
views,  either  as  to  the  admission  or  the  just  appreciation  of 
testimony.  In  the  civil  law  the  excludons  are  fdmost  as  nu- 
merous and  not  much  more  judicious  than  those  found  in  the 
laws  of  Menu.  By  its  provisions,  children  approaching  pu- 
berty were  to  be  f eceived,  but  not  compelled  to  testtfy  of 
matters  within  their  understanding.  Minors  were  received  as 
witnesses  when  pecuniary  interests  were  at  stake,  but  they 
were  not  allowed  in  criminal  cases,  unless  over  twenty  years  of 
age.  Slaves  were  not  witnesses  if  the  fSftcts  could  be  obtained 
from  any  other  quarter.  The  testimony  of  those  convicted 
of  offences  against  the  state,  informers,  of  those  cast  into  the 
public  prisons,  those  guilty  of  making  false  accusations,  those 
expelled  from  the  senate,  apostates,  heretics,  libellers,  those 
convicted  of  bribery,  in£Bunous  women,  those  who  hire  them- 
selves to  fight  with  wild  beasts.  Hie  worthless,  and  the  poor, 
were  not  a£nitted  when  other  proof  could  be  had.  No  one 
was  a  witness  in  his  own  case,  or  in  that  of  one  associated 
with  him.  The  son  could  not  be  the  witness  for  the  father, 
nor  the  father  for  the  son.  Patrons  were  not  heard  in  tiie 
cause  of  their  client,  guardians  of  their  ward,  nor  overseers  in 
that  of  the  minor  of  whose  estate  they  had  charge.* 

B  V  the  common  law,  parties  to  a  suit,  those  interested  in  its 
result,  husband  and  wife,  the  attorney  as  to  all  confidential 
conmiumcations  from  his  client,  the  atheist,  and  the  convict, 
are  excluded  as  witnesses. 

The  arguments  of  Mr.  Greenleaf  would  as  well  support  one 
set  of  exclusions  as  another ;  and  whether  found  in  the  He- 
daya  or  the  Pandects,  in  the  institutes  of  Menu  or  in  those  of 
the  common  law,  they  would  have  been  equally  applicable ; 
for,  being  based  upon  assuming  the  very  question  to  be  proved, 
one  law-^ver  may  as  well  assume  as  another.  Were  all  these 
exclusions  to  be  united  in  any  one  code,  it  is  difficult  to  imag- 
ine from  what  source  proof  could  ever  be  obtained.  If  selec- 
tions are  to  be  made,  we  think  little  judgment  is  shown  in 
those  of  the  common  law. 

Decision  as  to  the  truth  of  testimony  there  must  be,  at 
some  time  or  other — deci^on  either  with  or  without  hearing. 

*  Heineocias,  EUmmta  Jwu  CmUi^  Ht.  V.,  DeTest,  &c. 


1848.]  Thfi  Law  of  Evidence.  53 

Ezelomon  presupposes  a  jadgment  determining  the  probable 
fidsity  of  testimony,  without  and  before  hearing  it.  Such  is 
its  supposition,  else  why  exclude  ?  The  common  lawyer,  then, 
is  not  the  man  of  experience,  but  the  theorist,  and  an  absurd 
and  visionary  one.  His  theoiy  is,  that  he  can  decide  better 
as  to  the  truth  of  a  witness  without  seeing  and  hearing  him, 
than  with ;  that  a  judgment  as  to  the  truth  of  testimony  can 
better  be  made  centuries  before  and  without  its  utterance,  than 
upon  a  hearing  and  a  comparison  of  it  with  other  evidence  in 
the  case.  Mr.  Bentham,  abused  as  a  wild  and  unsafe  specu- 
lator, thought  that  before  a  decL^on  could  be  safely  made  as 
to  the  trustwortiiiness  of  a  witness,  it  might  be  as  judicious  to 
hear  him.  Mr.  Ghreenleaf,  who  would  call  himself  the  man 
of  experience,  who  would  eschew  s^culation  as  dangerous, 
thinks  that  decision  without  hearing  is  the  perfection  of  judi- 
cial wisdom. 

In  the  list  of  excluaons,  to  our  mind  there  axe  none  so 
erroneous,  so  utterly  without  justifici^on,  as  those  of  the 
parties  and  of  persons  interested.  These  we  intend  to  exam- 
me  particularly. 

Let  us  bridly  conader  tiie  matter.  Correctness  and  com- 
pleteness are  the  primary  qualifications  of  witnesses.  To  at- 
tun  these,  attention  is  necessary.  To  g^ve  the  necessary 
attention,  an  adequate  motive  is  required.  Be  it  contract, 
be  it  crime,  whicn  is  the  subject  of  inquiry,  no  one  can  be 
expected  to  have  the  same  motive  to  ^ve  attention — full, 
careful,  absorbing  attention — as  the  parties,  as  those  inter- 
ested, the  expected  gainers  or  losers.  Other  witnesses  acci- 
dentally present,  like  the  fortuiti  testes  of  the  Roman  law, 
may  be  uree  from  any  sinister  bias  which  might  affect  their 
testimony.  But  mere  freedom  from  bias — mere  absence  of 
interest — is  not  the  most  essential  qualification  of  a  witness. 
Without  motive  to  observe,  men  are  inattentive 'observers. 
Nor  is  this  all.  While  those  interested  are  most  likely  to 
perceive  what  took  place,  so  they  will  be  the  most  likely  accu- 
rately to  remember.  To  perceive  accurately  and  to  remember 
truthfully  is  the  work  of  labor,  —  of  labor  greater  or  less  ac- 
cording to  the  number  and  complexity  of  the  fSftcts,  —  a  work 
never  undertaken  except  under  the  pressure  of  motives  ade- 
quate to  the  attempted  production  of  the  expected  result. 
Mere  indifference  can  hardly  be  considered  any  very  peculiar 
guaranty  for  clearness  of  ori^nal  perception  or  accuracy  of 
recollection ;  for  from  indifference  naturally  flow  carelessness, 


\ 


54  The  Law  of  JSvidmee.  [Bee. 

inaocnracy,  forgetfulness,  misrecolleotion — consequences  none 
the  less  undesinible,  with  however  undoubted  cUsinterestedness 
they  may  be  accompanied. 

So  far,  therefore,  as  perception  and  recoIlecii<ni  are  con- 
cerned, those  interested  would  be  most  likely  to  perceiye  and 
recollect  all  the  facts  witlun  their  knowledge,  material  and 
necessary  to  a  just  detenmnatic«i  of  the  rights  involved.  They 
are  witnesses  ordinarily  present,  and  upon  whose  intelligence 
and  recollection  reUance  may  be  placea.  Whether  they  will 
truly  state  their  knowledge,  when  caUed  in  for  judicial  pur- 
poses, is  another  and  different  question,  which  hereafter  will 
be  considered. 

In  regard  to  parties,  the  ^^rule  of  the  common  law  is 
founded  not  solely  in  the  consideration  of  interest,  but  partly, 
also,  in  the  general  expediency  of  avoiding  the  multiplication 
of  temptations  to  perjury."  *  "  The  general  rule  is,  that  a 
party  to  the  record  can,  in  no  case,  be  a  witness:  a  rule 
founded  principally  on  the  policy  of  preventing  perjury^  and 
the  hardehip  of  calling  on  a  party  to  charge  himself. ^^ 

^^  The  principle  on  which  ^  those  interested  in  the  result  of 
a  suit  ^^  are  rejected  is  the  same  with  that  which  excludes  the 
parties  themselves ;  .  .  .  namely,  the  dancer  of  perjury, 
and  the  little  credit  found  to  be  due  to  such  testimony  in  judi- 
cial investigations."  f 

It  is  obvious,  tiiat  so  far  as  interest  is  to  be  considered  a 
ground  of  exclusion,  it  is  immaterial  whether  it  be  that  of  a 
party  or  of  one  merely  interested  in  the  result.  Nobody 
supposes  that  it  makes  the  slightest  difference,  so  £Eur  as  that  is 
to  be  considered  as  a  ground  of  exclusion,  whether  the  name 
of  the  witness  be  on  the  docket  of  the  court  as  a  party  or 
not.  So  far  as  the  reasoning  of  the  author  is  of  any  validity, 
it  applies  mth  equal  force  in  both  cases. 

To  the  English  lawyer,  but  one  motive  is  seen  acting  upon 
the  human  mind,  and  that  always  with  overwhelming  force  and 
in  a  sinister  direction.  Filial  affection,  paternal  solicitude,  the 
ties  of  friendship,  are  not  considered  as  likely  materially  to 
endanger  the  truth  of  testimony.  From  one  source  and  from 
one  alone  is  there  fear,  and  tiiat  is  pecuniary  interest.  All 
hopes,  all  fears,  all  loves,  all  hates,  all  mortal  passions,  at  once 
yield  to  the  omnipotence  of  money.     Such  is  the  philosophy 


*  1  Greeoleaf,  378.  1 1  Gh«enleaf,  432. 


1848.]  The  Law  of  Evidence.  55 

of  die  law.  In  English  jurispradence,  no  unapt  representa- 
tion of  the  national  character,  Mammon  reigns  supreme  : 

"Mammon,  the  least  erected  spirit  that  fell 
From  Hearen — for  e*en  in  Hearen  his  looks  and  thoughts 
Were  alwajs  downward  bent,  admirine  more 
The  riches  of  Hearen's  pavement,  trodden  gold, 
Than  anght  dirine  or  holy." 

Indeed,  such  is  the  degraded  character  of  the  communiiy  in 
the  eye  of  the  law,  that  it  presumes  that  all,  rich  and  poor, 
good  and  bad,  from  the  beggar  in  the  streets  to  the  chief- 
magistrate —  for  any  the  smallest  pecuniary  gidn,  or  to  avoid 
any  the  smallest  pecuniary  loss — would  commit  perjury; 
presumes,  nay  declares,  that  they  will  do  so ;  makes  such 
result  a  legal  presumption  not  to  be  contradicted:  ^^The 
magnitude  er  degree  of  the  interest  is  not  to  be  regarded," 
says  Mr.  Greenleaf,  ^^  in  estimating  its  effect  on  the  mind  of 
the  witness :  for  it  is  impomble  to  meaeure  the  influence  which 
any  given  interest  may  exert."  80  universal  and  uneradica- 
ble  is  this  depravity  —  so  deficient  is  the  whole  population  in 
veracity,  so  loose  and  inefficient  are  the  ordinary  restraints 
of  human  action — that  our  enlightened  public  policy  requires 
this  universality  of  exclusion  for  the  least  conceivable  interest, 
lest  otherwise  the  seat  of  justice  might  be  polluted. 

But  how  absurd  is  this  reasonmg.  The  motives  which 
influence  the  human  mind  are  as  innumerable  as  the  feelings 
or  the  desires  of  man ;  their  strength  as  varying.  The  same 
motives  vary  in  intensi^  between  man  and  man,  or  as  affect- 
ing the  same  man  at  different  periods  of  time.  Nor  is  there 
any  motive  the  direction  of  which  is  uniform.  It  may  lead  to 
truth,  it  may  lead  to  falsehood.  However  sinister  the  direc- 
tion of  any  motive,  it  may  be  controlled  or  overborne  by  other 
motives,  actins  in  a  contrary  direction.  The  prejudices  and 
pasfflons,  the  hopes  and  fears,  by  which  man  is  affected,  are 
not  susceptible  of  the  uniform  and  accurate  admeasurement  of 
mechanical  forces.  To  the  common  lawyer,  mental  dynamics 
are  as  mmple  and  invariable  as  those  of  brute  matter.  The 
argument  m  favor  of  exclusion  assumes  that  pecuniary  inter- 
est, as  a  motive,  acts  at  all  times,  in  all  men ;  that  the  minut- 
est interest  leads  uniformly  to  falsehood,  and  that  it  will  not  be 
oveibome  hj  fear  of  punishment,  loss  of  reputation,  or  any 
motive  leadmg  in  the  direction  of  truth ;  or  that  it  is  so  ex- 
tremely improbable  that  this  will  be  the  case,  that  the  only 
safety  to  society  is  to  be  found  in  exclusion. 


56  The  Law  of  Eviimce.  [Deo. 

Fear  of  penurj  is  a  main  reason  for  ezdnrion.  What  is 
the  danger  of  peijuiy  on  tibe  part  of  any  mtness  ?  In  all 
cases,  the  chance  of  his  being  right  is  equal  to  that  of  his  being 
wrong ;  if  in  the  right,  he  wUl  never  commit  perjury,  for  truth 
will  better  subserve  lus  purposes.  However  trudbdestroying 
the  effect  of  interest  may  be,  it  is  manifest  that  in  all  cases  of 
adverse  and  conflicting  interests,  as  to  each  ^puted  fact,  one 
must  be  in  the  right,  Sie  other  in  the  wrong ;  or  each  may  be 
partly  right  aud  partly  wrong.  It  is  equaUy  manifest,  that  of 
two  parties,  if  one  be  in  the  right,  in  whole  or  in  part,  that  so 
£Btr  as  his  testimony  is  excluded,  so  far  the  truth  will  be  shut 
out ;  if  in  the  wrong,  what  are  the  chances  of  perjury  ?  The 
portion  of  the  party — his  interest  and  consequent  bias — is 
seen  and  perceived  by  others,  and  known  to  himself.  The  or* 
dinary  restrsdmng  motives  act  with  more  than  usual  strength, 
for,  feeling  his  position  as  one  looked  upon  with  suspicion,  he 
will  be  likely  to  guard  his  testimony.  Besides,  if  both  parties 
are  heard,  the  perjury  of  one  is  known  to  the  other.  Will 
one  be  so  very  likely  to  commit  this  offence  in  the  presence  of 
an  antagonist,  who  has  the  knowledge  to  detect  and  the  motive 
to  pumdi? 

Is  danger  of  peijury  a  reason  for  excluding  a  witness  ;  for 
refusing  to  call  on  one  having  the  requisite  and  desired  infor- 
mation, but  of  the  truth  or  ftdsehood  of  whose  testimony  noth- 
ing can  be  foreknown  ?  —  for  it  cannot  be  foreknown  whether 
he  is  in  the  ri^ht  or  the  wrong.  Why  is  not  danger  of  murder 
an  equally  vahd  reason  for  imprisoning  the  son,  lest,  considep> 
ing  nature  too  tardy,  he  mi^t  anticipate  its  course  ?  The 
argument  applies  as  well  in  one  case  as  the  other.  In  either 
case  the  commission  of  crime  is  assumed  as  probable,  because 
a  gfdn  may  thereby  be  made.  Because  ono  might  be  so  mtu- 
ated  as  to  gsdn  by  crime,  it  by  no  means  follows  that  he  will 
be  a  criminal ;  yet  such  is  the  inference  of  the  law.  Exclud- 
ing a  witness,  firom  fear  of  his  committing  perjury,  is  as  sane 
as  it  would  be  for  the  shopkeeper  to  send  away  all  his  cus- 
tomers, lest  they  might  steal.  In  the  one  case,  ^^  it  certainly 
preserves  the  party  from  temptation  to  perjury*^  *  In  the 
other,  it  with  equal  certmty  preserves  the  customer  from 
temptation  to  larceny.  Men  may  perjure;  men  may  steal ; 
one  dollar  or  one  thousand  dollars — to  gain  or  retm  that  sum, 
what  greater  probabDity  of  perjury  than  of  larceny  ?    What 

*lOreeDleaf,d79. 


184&]  The  Law  cf  IMdmee.  67 

retfOQ  to  sappoee  timt  interest  would  take  tlie  one  ra&er  than 
the  other  direotion^  to  attain  its  object?  Indeed,  with  a 
watchfiil  and  excited  party — with  examination  and  cross- 
examination  in  the  way  to  success — who  does  not  see  that 
perjury  is  not  half  so  |dausible  a  mode  of  obtaining  m<Hiey  as 
lar^y  ?  Yet  the  court  refuse  to  hear  one  of  whose  integrity 
they  Imow  nothing,  lest,  perchance,  he  may  commit  perjury. 
If,  to  gain  one  doUar,  the  party  will  commit  perjury,  what 
8lM>uld  prevent  him  from  investing  that  sum  in  the  subornation 
of  witnesses ;  for  the  same  sum  which  would  induce  him  to 
commit  that  crime,  would  probably  be  a  sufficient  motive  for 
other  crimes  ?  K  this  fear  of  perjury  is  well  grounded,  is  it 
not  absolutely  dangerous  to  receive  any  proof? 

In  the  case  where  the  fSftcts  necessary  for  a  correct  decision 
are  known  only  to  the  parties  or  to  persons  interested,  the 
exclusion  of  their  evidence  is  the  exclusion  of  the  only  means 
of  arriving  at  a  correct  decision.  Injustice  must  ensue.  In 
all  cases,  the  evil  will  be  in  proportion  to  the  importance  of 
the  facts  thus  withheld.  But  the  perjury  is  not  certain.  The 
probability  of  its  commission  is  seen  to  be  not  so  great  as  is 
unagined.  Excluding  evidence  for  this  cause,  the  conse- 
quences of  the  worst  perjury  follow:  —  an  unjust  claim  suc- 
ceeds. K  the  evidence  proposed  is  received  and  accompanied 
witii  the  anticipated  perjury,  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  the 
oppoong  truth  will  not  prevail.  !Both  parties  heard,  one  ut* 
tering  truth,  the  other  uttering  £Etlsehood,  which  irill  triumph? 
Truth  consistent  with  itself,  with  every  true  fact ;  fisdsehooa  in- 
consistent with  itself,  with  every  fiM^t  in  the  case  —  which  wiU 
J  re  vail  ?  Will  not  the  sagacity  of  the  judge  of  fact, — called 
y  whatever  name,  —  sever  the  truth  from  falsehood  ?  How 
is  the  difficulty  greater  than  in  the  ordinary  case  of  conffict^ 
ing  testimony?  In  what  does  it  differ?  ^^The  hardship  of 
calling  a  party  to  charge  himself"  —  what  is  that  hardsmp  ? 
Hardship  implies  wrong,  for  if  in  the  right,  there  is  no  hard* 
ship  in  uttering  what  will  aid  or  tend  to  aid  the  party  uttering 
such  testimony.  Hardship  excludes  the  idea  of  peijury  on 
either  side ;  for  if  there  is  hardship  in  uttering  the  truth,  and 
it  is  uttered,  no  perjury  follows ;  and  the  other  party  being  in 
the  right,  his  interests  will  best  be  promoted  by  the  truth. 
No  questions  are  to  be  asked,  lest  the  party  in  the  wrong 
should  feel  umdeasantly ;  lest  scrutinizmg  interrogatories 
should  disturb  the  repose  of  fraud,  or  bring  dismay  and  terror 
to  guilt.    The  hardship  inddent  to  the  utterance  of  the  truth, 


58  The  Law  of  Emimee.  [Dec. 

and  to  being  compelled  in  consequence  {hereof  to  perfonn 
what  Justice  requires,  is  the  hardship  too  grievous  to  be  borne. 
The  hardship  of  uttering  the  truth  must  not  be  permitted. 
Reluctance  to  answer,  the  hardship  of  answering  what  truly 
answered  will  lead  to  ilie  compulsory  performance  of  ccmtracts 
which  otherwise  would  have  been  violated,  if  sufficient  reasons 
for  exemption  from  answering,  are  much  better  reasons  for 
exemption  from  the  performance  of  contracts ;  just  as  much 
better  are  they  as  is  the  performance  more  onerous  than  the 
mere  answering  of  inqtdries.  If  hardship  should  exempt  from 
answering,  the  hardship  of  performance  should  be  a  good  bar 
to  the  claun  for  performance,  and  unvrillingness  to  do  ri^t  a 
reason  for  exemption  from  the  obligations  of  duty. 

Hardship  and  perjury  never  coexist  as  reasons  for  exclu- 
sion. If  tiiere  is  hsurdship,  there  is  no  periury.  If  there  is 
peijury,  it  is  self-«6rvmg ;  there  is  not  we  hardship  of  a  par- 
ty's "  charing  himself." 

What  is  remarkable  is,  that  all  this  sympathy  for  hardship, 
tins  dread  of  perjury,  operates  to  the  benefit  and  for  the  pro- 
tection of  wrongdoers.  The  party  in  the  right,  seeking  re- 
dress, has  no  peijury  to  commit,  no  hardship  to  endure  in 
uttering  his  testimonv ;  the  law,  fearing  lest  its  violation  in 
seeking  to  avoid  his  obligation  mi^t  wound  his  conscience  by 
a  fiEilsehood,  or  his  feelings  by  the  truth,  exempts  him  from  m 
inauiry,  and  thus  renders  the  success  of  the  wrong  inevitable, 
unless  proof  can  be  obtained  from  otiier  sources. 

The  danger  of  peijury  "from  receiving  the  hardship"  of 
compelling  the  testimonv  of  those  interested;  the  "general 
experience  of  mankind"  of  the  dangers  arising  from  such  tes- 
timony, and  tiie  "little  reliance  to  be  placed"  thereon,  having 
been  considered  sufficient  reasons  for  its  exclusion,  it  woula 
seem  impossible  to  conceive  of  any  cases  in  which  these  rea- 
sons should  be  found  inapplicable  ;  for  if  the  position  be  well 
founded,  that  there  is  a  preponderant  probability  of  mischief 
from  certain  classes  of  testimony,  there  can  be  no  propriety  in 
receiving  testimony  which  ordinarily  is  found  adverse  to  the 
truth.  But  in  fact,  however,  while  the  wisdom  of  the  rule  is 
assumed  without  foundation,  in  practice  it  is  found  so  utterly 
subversive  of  right,  that  it  is  violated  in  instances  without  num- 
ber. Indeed,  so  many  are  these  violations, — so  contradictory 
to  the  general  rule  and  subversive  thereof,  —  that  were  it  not 
for  the  aid  to  be  derived  from  the  text-books,  one  would  be 
ahoaost  at  a  loss  to  know  which  was  the  rule  and  which  the 
exception. 


1848.]  The  Law  of  JSmdenee.  69 

Mr.  Greenleaf^  enraplored  as  he  is  with  tihe  princijde  of 
ezclufflon,  is  none  ttie  less  so  with  that  of  admission.  In  his 
view,  as  in  that  of  everj  lover  of  the  common  law,  "  whatever 
is,  is  right."  Exceptions  utterly  subvendye  of  a  general  rule 
founded  in  the  highest  ezpediencj  are  established ;  it  matters 
not  to  him,  he  steers  right  onward  and  bates  not  a  jot  of  his 
admiration  of  this  development  of  conflicting  and  discordant 
wisdom.  Fraud,  trust,  and  accident  are  the  principal  objects 
of  eqmty  jurisdiction.  That  the  defendant  has  been  guilty  of 
fraua ;  that  he  has  violated  some  trust  reposed  in  him ;  that 
he  has  taken  some  undue  advantage  of  an  accident,  are  the 
ordinary  allegations  of  a  bill,  and,  if  the  bill  be  sustained,  are 
true,  xhe  peculiar  boast  of  equity  is  its  efficiency  when  the 
common  law  fiuls ;  and  this  efficiency  is  msdnly  attributable  to 
the  virtues  of  its  searching  interrogatories.  No  one  but  a 
lawyer  would  conceive  that  resort  to  a  court  for  its  aid  to  com- 
pel the  performance  of  what  should  have  been  done  without  its 
mtervention,  would  be  considered  the  best  evidence  of  integ- 
rity on  the  part  of  the  individual  refusing,  or  that  it  could  be 
construed  into  ^^  an  emphatic  admission  tiiat  in  that  instance 
the  party  is  worthy  of  credit,  and  that  his  known  integrity  is 
a  sufficient  guaranty  agtdnst  the  danger  of  falsehood."  Still 
less  would  he  suppose,  that  under  such  circumstances  integrity 
surpassing  that  of  common  witnesses  would  be  predicated  of 
an  equity  defendants.  The  credit  of  witnesses  is  usuaUy  left 
to  the  intelligence  and  judgment  of  those  who  are  to  hear.  In 
eqmty  the  law  measures  and  determines  the  trustworthiness  of 
the  defendant  in  advance,  without  reference  to  the  truth  or 
falsehood  of  his  testimony,  in  utter  ignorance  of  all  that  can 
corroborate  or  detract  from  its  weight,  rates  it  as  uniformly 
exceeding  the  testimonv  of  one  disinterested  witness,  however 
great  his  integrity,  and  determines  that  it  shall  always  be  re- 
garded as  true,  imless  overcome  by  two  witnesses,  or  one  wit- 
ness and  corroborating  circumstances.  The  party  who  would 
not  be  heard  before  a  jury,  whose  testimony  it  would  be 
thought  dangerous  for  wem  to  hear,  is  judicially  adjudged 
to  possess  not  merely  average,  but  superior  trustworthiness. 
All  defendants  in  equity,  by  virtue  of  their  position,  in  all 
time,  past,  present,  and  to  come,  are  decreed  to  possess  ex- 
traordinary clidms  to  credence.  While  the  defendant  is 
considered  so  unusually  trustworthy,  the  plamtiff,  the  party 
wronged  or  asserting  that  he  is  wronged,  is  not  even  heard. 
The  plaintiff  in  equity  is  no  more  trustworthy  than  his  brother 


9Q  The  Law  of  Mndenee.  [Dec. 

at  common  law.  The  defendant  in  equity  alone  recdres  Hiis 
unmerited  confidence.  Whatever  the  danger  in  hearing  par- 
ties, that  danger  is  immeasurably  increased  when  only  one  is 
heard,  and  that  under  such  peculiar  circumstances. 

The  general  rule  in  all  cases  of  exceptions,  whether  statu- 
tory or  conunon  law,  seems  to  be  this, — increase  the  motive 
to  and  the  danger  of  perjury,  diminish  the  securities  for  trust- 
worthiness, and  remove  the  means  of  detection,  and  an  inter* 
ested  witness  or  party  may  be  heard.  The  confessions  of  a 
party — incorrect  and  incomplete — uttered  without  the  ordi* 
nary  securities  for  trustworthiness,  misunderstood,  misrecol- 
lected,  or  misreported,  are  received,  while  the  party  whose 
statements  they  are  alleged  to  be  is  denied  the  opportunity  of 
completing  what  is  incorrect,  supplying  what  is  deficient,  or  of 
rectifying  the  errors  of  ori^nal  perception  or  subsequent  recol- 
lection :  secondary  is  perversely  preferred  to  primary  evidence. 
When  the  facts  are  in  the  exclusive  knowledge  of  a  party,  so 
that  he  is  free  from  all  fears  of  contradiction,  let  his  statements 
be  reduced  to  writing  cautiously,  under  the  advice  and  with  the 
fdd  of  counsel — all  favorable  foots  in  full  relief,  all  unfavorable 
foots  in  the  background  or  suppressed ;  exclude  all  examina- 
tion and  cross-examination,  provided  only  the  evidence  is  of- 
fered in  the  worst  possible  form,  that  of  affidavits,  and  the 
party  is  at  once  and  without  objection  heard.  Let  the  word 
poK(^  or  necessity  be  used,  —  as  though  there  were  policy  in 
receiving  testimonv  which  the  "  common  experience  "  of  man- 
kind had  ^^  found  unworthy  of  credit,  as  though  any  neces- 
rity  would  justify  receiving  proof  which  would  ordinarily  be 
peijured,  —  and  the  rules  of  the  law  are  changed.  Anxious  to 
testify,  one  may  release  his  interest,  thus  provmff  that  motives 
stronger  than  pecuniary  influence  him,  yet  notwithstanding  this 
conclusive  evidence  of  an  existing  interest  which  compelled  the 
surrender  of  the  pecxmiary  and  lesser,  he  is  received.  Antic- 
ipating prime  firom  interest,  the  government  creates  the  very 
motives  whose  action  is  so  uniformly  deleterious,  offering  pecu- 
niary rewards  attmnable  onlv  on  conviction,  as  if  its  money 
was  less  likely  to  lead  to  perjury  than  tiiat  of  individuals.  Lti 
admiralty  and  in  probate  cases,  parties  are  allowed  to  testify. 
But  to  what  purpose  increase  the  list  ?  The  usurer  and  lus 
ruined  victim,  the  briber  and  the  bribed,  the  infamous  mother 
—whosoever  the  whim  of  the  judge  or  the  caprice  of  the 
le^lator  may  accept,  are  heard,  and  under  circumstances  the 
most  unfavorable  to  the  elucidation  of  truth.    Better,  then, 


1848.]  The  Law  qf  Ihidence.  61 

would  it  be,  to  hear  all,  leaving  to  the  tribunal  bj  whom  they 
are  heard  to  detenmne  the  value  of  the  testimony,  instead  of 
declaring  it  of  no  value,  without  knowing  any  thing  about  it, 
or  capriciously  considering  it  of  the  greatest  and  most  remark- 
able trustworthiness,  in  equal  ignorance  of  its  real  and  intrin- 
dc  worth. 

Other  changes  are  necessary.  Defect  of  religious  belief 
diould  never  be  a  ground  of  exclusion.  The  absence  of  one 
motive  to  veracity  may  be  a  good  reason  for  hearing  with  cau- 
tion, but  never  for  refusing  to  hear.  When  the  sanction  of  an 
oath  would  be  unavailable,  the  witness  may  testify  under  the 
pains  and  penalties  of  perjury. 

Those  now  considered  as  incompetent  from  infamy  should  be 
received.  They  are  now  heard,  when  to  tiie  in&my  of  the 
criminal  is  added  the  infieuny  of  the  traitor.  They  are  now 
heard,  in  case  the  punishment  due  to  crime  is  remitted ;  as  if 
the  witness  would  not  testify  as  honestiy  without  as  with  the 
pfurdcm ;  as  if  the  testimony  could  only  be  obtamed  at  the  cost 
of  relieving  a  wrongdoer  m>m  the  fluffisring  of  justly  incurred 
punishment. 

Husband  and  wife  should  be  heard.  Where  the  interest  of 
either  is  subserved  by  the  testimony  of  the  other,  there  is  no 
danger  of  any  violent  disruption  of  the  conjugal  ties.  Where 
it  is  otherwise,  the  testimony,  from  '^  the  identify  of  their  legal 
rights  and  interests,"  may  be  considered  true.  No  iust  and 
beneficial  confidence  between  man  and  wife  will  be  left  unpro- 
tected because  either  should  be  compelled  to  utter  the  truth  to 
the  prejudice  of  the  other.  Nor  would  the  happness  of  social 
life  ^'be  very  much  impaired  because  the  husband,  witnessing 
his  own  dbhonor,''  were  admitted  as  a  witness  to  prove  the 
guilt  of  his  wife,  or  the  wife,  falsely  charged  by  the  husband 
with  the  most  infamous  crimes,  were  received  to  vindicate  her 
own  reputation. 

The  attorney  should  be  examined  as  a  witness.  Confessions 
made  to  him  should  no  more  be  held  sacred  than  those  made 
to  any  one  else.  Confessions  ordinarily  are  admitted,  but 
those  made  to  an  attorney  are  peculiarly  deserving  of  credence, 
from  the  circumstances  under  which  they  are  made.  The 
knave  and  the  villain  should  not  be  permitted  to  enjoy  the  aid 
of  a  hired  defender  in  whose  skill,  energy,  and  secresy  they 
may  repose  the  most  implicit  reliance,  whatever  the  fraud  to 
be  committed  or  the  punishment  to  be  avoided.  The  common 
rule  is  only  for  the  benefit  of  the  dishonest  and  the  criminaL 


62  The  Law  of  Evidence.  [Dec. 

Its  abolition  would  not  in  the  slightest  degree  interfere  with 
the  legitimate  intercourse  between  the  client  and  the  attorney. 
It  would  only  operate  as  a  check  upon  the  relation,  so  far  as 
it  subsists,  between  wrongdoers  and  their  counsel,  and  it  is 
difScult  to  perceive  what  principles  of  sound  policy  require  that 
their  intercourse  should  be  so  far  unrestrained  and  secret,  that 
any  communication  thus  made,  if  important  to  the  furtherance 
of  justice,  should  be  withheld.  In  no  other  confidential  rela- 
tion is  tins  exemption  from  testifying  allowed.  Father  and 
son,  brother  and  sister,  physician  and  patient,  confessor  and 
penitent,  principal  and  agent,  guardian  and  ward,  trustee  and 
cestui  qui  trusty  are  obliged,  if  the  purposes  of  justice  require 
it,  to  (uvulge  any  communications,  however  confidential  they 
may  be.  The  relation  of  the  attorney  to  the  client  is  purely 
a  business  relation,  involving  only  the  obligations  and  imposing 
only  the  duties  of  good  faith,  integrity,  and  abilify  commensu- 
rate with  the  trusts  reposed.  It  pannes  in  no  degree  of  the 
high  and  sacred  character  of  that  subsisting  between  parent 
and  child,  brother  and  sister,  or  even  friend  and  friend.  In  no 
other  instance  is  the  confidence  of  guilt  respected.  Liberty 
to  consult,  under  the  most  inviolable  secresy,  how  fraud  may 
be  successfully  committed,  when  civil  obligation  merges  into 
criminal  liability,  and  how,  if  crime  has  been  committed,  its 
just  punishment  may  be  evaded,  may  be,  as  it  is  termed,  a 
"  privilege  "  to  the  client ;  but  it  is  a  privilege  granted  at  tiie 
expense  and  to  the  injury  of  the  rest  of  the  community. 

We  would  then  utterly  abolish  the  distinctions  of  compe- 
tency and  incompetency  as  applied  to  witnesses.  The  credi- 
bility of  testimony  alone  should  be  regarded.  Let  that  be  the 
subject  matter  of  investigation,  and  a  great  reform  ia  the  law 
will  be  accomplished. 

In  England,  if  we  mistake  not,  the  attention  of  parliament 
was  first  called  to  the  consideration  of  the  reforms  we  have 
been  considering,  in  1828,  bv  Mr.  now  Lord  Brougham,  in  his 
celebrated  speech  on  law  rerorm.  Since  that  time  the  subject 
has  been  frequently  under  consideration.  In  1843,  by  Lord 
Denman's  act,  so  called,  the  law  of  evidence  was  so  far  modi- 
fied, that  interest  and  infamy  are  no  longer  grounds  of  exclu- 
sion. In  New  York,  after  due  examination  of  the  question,  the 
same  exclusions  have  been  abolished,  and  a  still  more  important 
change  made,  by  which  parties  are  subject  to  examination  and 
cross-examination.  In  Massachusetts,  at  the  recent  session  of 
the  legislature,  a  bill  was  reported  by  tiie  Judiciary  Committee, 


1848.]       The  Works  of  WdUer  Swage  Landor.  68 

subsiantiany  the  same  with  Lord  Denman's  act ;  but  it  was 
rejected.  All  that  could  be  accomplished  was  the  passage  of 
a  bill  by  which  stockholders  in  an  insurance  company  are 
allowed  to  testify,  notwithstanding  their  interest ;  as  though, 
if  the  principle  of  exclusion  on  the  ground  of  interest  were 
good  for  any  thing,  there  was  any  thing  peculiar  in  insurance 
stock  which  would  render  the  testimony  of  its  owner  less  liable 
to  be  affected  by  it  in  his  testimony,  than  by  any  other  stock, 
or  by  any  other  property  at  stake.  But  legblation  is  piece- 
meal—  migmentary.  By  and  by,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  the 
le^lature  will  perceiye  that  a  dollar's  worth  of  insurance 
stock  differs  not  from  a  dollar's  worth  of  any  other  stock  and 
property.  Other  reforms  must  soon  follow.  We  trust  that 
the  time  b  not  far  distant  when  the  changes  we  haye  indicated 
will  become  part  of  the  law  of  the  land.  If  our  efforts  shall 
haye  done  any  thing  towards  accomplishing  so  important  and 
desirable  a  r^ult,  our  labors  will  not  haye  been  in  yain. 


Abt.  rV. —  The  Worke  of  Walter  Savage  Landor.    Lon- 
don.    Edward  Moxon.    1846.    2  yols.    8yo. 

Though  we  haye  placed  at  the  head  of  our  article  the  titie 
of  the  collected  edition  of  Lander's  works,  it  is  to  a  consider- 
ation of  his  poems,  and  in  particular  of  his  ^^  Hellenics,"  that 
we  shall  in  a  great  measure  deyote  ourselyes.  It  may  at 
first  sieht  seem  somewhat  of  an  anomaly  te  try  a  great  prose- 
writer  by  what  he  has  written  in  yerse ;  but  the  man  is  so  in- 
diyidual  that  the  merits  both  of  his  prose  and  poetry  are  iden- 
tical in  kind,  and  the  defects  which  we  are  conscious  of  in  the 
latter  may  help  us  to  a  clearer  understanding,  if  not  to  a 
clearer  definition,  of  what  is  poetry. 

To  say  of  any  writer  that  his  faults  are  peculiarly  his  own, 
is  in  a  certain  sense  to  commend  him,  and,  where  these  are 
largely  outweighed  by  excellences,  it  amounts  to  a  yerdict  in 
fayor  of  his  originality.  Imitatiye  minds  inyariably  seize  upon 
and  exaggerate  the  exaggerations  of  their  model.  The  para- 
sitic  plant  indicates  the  cracks,  roughnesses,  and  flaws  of  the 
wall  to  which  it  clings,  for  in  these  alone  is  it  able  to  root  it- 
self. If  Byron  were  morose,  a  thousand  poetasters  bleated 
sayagely  from  under  wer-wolyes'  skins.    It  Carlyle  be  Teu- 


/ 


64  The  Works  qf  Walter  Savage  Landor.        [Dec. 

tonic,  those  will  be  found  who  will  out-Germanize  him.  If 
Emerson  be  mystic,  the  Emersonidse  can  be  misty.  It  is  only 
where  the  superior  mind  begins  to  differ  from  the  commonplace 
type,  or  to  diverge  from  the  simple  orbit  of  nature,  that  infe- 
nor  ones  become  subject  to  its  attraction.  Then  they  begin 
to  gravitate  toward  it,  are  carried  along  with  it,  and,  when  it 
pauses,  are  thrown  beyond  it.  It  is  only  the  eclipse  men  stare 
at.  It  is  not  the  star  but  the  comet  that  gathers  a  tail.  When 
we  say,  then,  that  Lander's  &ults  are  especially  Landor,  we 
imply  iiiat  he  is  no  imitator.  When  we  say  that  he  has  no 
imitators,  we  imply  that  his  faults  are  few. 

If  we  were  asked  to  name  a  writer  to  whose  style  the  phrase 
correct  would  most  exactly  apply,  we  should  select  Ijandor. 
Yet  it  is  not  so  at  the  expense  of  warmth,  or  force,  or  generos* 
ity.    It  is  only  bounded  on  every  side  by  dignity.    In  all  tiiose 

girtions  of  his  works  which  present  him  to  us  most  nobly,  and 
erefore  most  truly,  the  most  noticeable  quality  of  ihe  mere 
style  is  its  tm-noticeability.  Balance  and  repose  are  its  two 
leading  characteristics.  He  has  discovered  that  to  be  ample 
is  to  be  classical.  He  observes  measure  and  proportion  in 
every  thing.  If  he  throw  mud  it  is  by  drachm  ana  scruple. 
His  coarsest  denunciation  must  be  conveyed  in  sentences  of 
just  so  many  words  spelt  in  just  such  a  manner.  He  builds  a 
paragraph  as  perfect  as  a  ureek  temple,  no  matter  whether 
rhoibos  or  Anubis  is  to  be  housed  in  it ; — tor  he  is  a  coarse 
man  with  the  most  refined  perceptions.  He  is  the  Avatar  of 
John  Bull.  He  is  Tom  Gnbb  with  the  soul  of  Plato  in  1^, 
and  when  he  attacks  there  is  no  epithet  which  seems  to  fit  him 
so  well  as  brtuser. 

But  though  he  asks  us  to  many  banquets,  where,  after  the 
English  fashion,  the  conversation  at  a  certsun  point  becomes 
such  as  to  compel  women  to  withdraw;  though  he  so  obtrudes 
his  coarseness  upon  us  that  any  notice  of  him  would  be  inade- 
quate without  some  mention  of  it ;  yet  this  jarring  element  is 
rather  the  rare  exception  than  the  rule  in  his  writings.  It 
affects  the  style  more  than  the  character  of  his  works,  and  is 
more  important  in  helping  us  to  an  estimate  of  the  man,  than 
of  his  books.  An  introduction  to  him  without  a  previous  hint 
of  it  would  hardly  be  fair ;  yet  we  might  be  in  his  company 
for  hours  without  discovering  it.  We  should  be  at  a  loss  to 
name  the  writer  of  English  prose  who  is  his  superior,  or,  set- 
ting Shakspeare  aside,  the  writer  of  English  who  has  furnished 
us  with  so  many  or  so  delicate  aphorisms  of  human  nature. 


1848.]        The  Works  of  Walter  Savage  Landar.  65 

Browning,  certainly  a  competent  anthority,  in  dedicating  a 
drama  to  hun,  calls  him  a  great  dramatic  poet,  and  if  we 
deduct  from  the  dramatic  faculty  that  part  of  it  which  haa 
reference  to  a  material  stage,  we  can  readily  concede  him  the 
title.  His  mind  has  not  the  succinctness  necessary  to  a  writer 
for  the  theatre.  It  has  too  decided  a  tendency  to  elaboration, 
and  is  more  competent  to  present  to  the  mmd  a  particular 
quality  of  character  in  every  light  of  which  it  is  susceptible, 
thim  to  construct  a  unitary  character  out  of  a  combination  of 
qusdities.  Perhaps  we  should  be  more  strictly  accurate  if  we 
diould  say  that  his  power  lies  in  showing  how  certain  situations, 
passions,  or  qualities  would  affect  the  thought  and  speech 
rather  than  the  action  of  a  character.  Of  all  his  dramas  ex- 
cept one,  he  has  himself  said  that  they  are  more  imagmarr 
conversations  than  dramas.  Of  his  "Imaginary  Conversations  * 
we  may  generally  say  that  they  would  be  better  defined  as 
dialogues  between  the  imaginations  of  the  persons  introduced, 
than  between  the  persons  themselves.  There  is  a  sometiung 
in  all  men  and  women  which  deserve  the  much-abused  title  of 
xndimduaUj  which  we  call  their  character^  something  finer  than 
tiie  man  or  woman,  and  yet  which  U  the  man  or  woman  never^ 
iheless.  We  feel  it  in  whatever  they  sav  or  do,  but  it  is  bet- 
ter than  their  speech  or  deed,  and  can  be  conceived  of  apart 
from  these.  It  is  his  own  conceptions  of  the  characters  of 
different  personages  that  Landor  brings  in  as  interlocutors. 
Between  Shakspeare's  historical  and  ideal  personages  we  per- 
ceive no  difference  in  point  of  reality.  They  are  alike  histor- 
ical to  us.  We  allow  him  to  substitute  his  Richard  for  the 
Richard  of  history,  and  we  suspect  that  those  are  few  who 
doubt  whether  Caliban  ever  existed.  Whatever  Hamlet  and 
Gsesar  say  we  feel  to  be  theirs,  though  we  know  it  to  be 
Shakspeare's.  Whatever  Landor  puts  into  the  mouth  of  Per- 
icles and  Michael  Angelo  and  Tell,  we  know  to  be  his,  though 
we  can  conceive  that  it  might  have  been  theirs.  Don  Quix- 
ote would  never  have  attacked  any  puppets  of  his.  The  hand 
which  jerked  the  wires  and  the  mouth  which  uttered  the 
speeches  would  have  been  too  clearly  visible. 

We  cannot  so  properly  call  Landor  a  great  thinker,  as  a  / 
man  who  has  great  thoughts.     His  mind  has  not  much  conti-  / 
nuity,  as,  indeed,  we  might  infer  from  what  he  himself  some- 
where says — that  his  memory  is  a  poor  one.    He  is  strong 
in  details  and  concentrates  himself  upon  points.    Hence  his 
criticisms  on  authors,  though  always  valuable  as  far  as  they 

KG.  V.  6 


66  The  Works  of  Walter  Savage  Landor.         [Dec, 

go,  are  commonly  fragmentary.  He  makes  profound  remarks 
upon  certain  passages  of  a  poem,  but  does  not  seem  to  aim 
at  a  comprehension  of  the  entire  poet.  He  perceives  rather 
than  conceives.  He  is  fond  of  verbal  criticism,  and  takes  up 
an  author  often  in  the  spirit  of  a  proofreader.  He  has  a 
microscopic  eye,  and  sees  with  wonderful  distinctness  what  is 
immediately  before  him.  When  he  turns  it  on  a  poet  it  some- 
times gives  us  the  same  sort  of  feeling  as  when  Gulliver  re- 
S^rts  his  discoveries  in  regard  to  the  complexions  of  the  Brob- 
gnag  maids  of  honor.  Yet,  of  course,  it  gives  him  equal 
power  for  perceiving  every  minutest  shade  of  beautv. 

In  the  historical  personages  whom  his  conversations  intro- 
duce to  us,  or,  to  speak  more  strictly,  who  introduce  his  con- 
versations to  us,  we  are  sensible  of  two  kinds  of  truth.  They 
are  true  to  the  external  circumstances  and  to  the  history  of 
the  times  in  which  thev  lived,  and  they  are  true  to  Landor. 
We  always  feel  that  it  is  he  who  is  speaking,  and  that  he  has 
merely  chosen  a  character  whom  he  considered  suitable  to 
express  a  particular  phase  of  his  own  mind.  He  never,  for  a 
moment,  loses  himself  in  his  characters.  He  b  never  raised 
or  depressed  by  them,  but  raises  and  depresses  them  at  will. 
If  he  choose,  he  will  make  Pericles  talk  of  Blackwood's  Mag- 
azine, or  Aspasia  comment  on  the  last  number  of  the  Quar- 
terly Review.  Yet  all  the  while  every  slightest  propri- 
ety of  the  household  economy  and  the  external  life  of  the 
Greeks  will  be  observed  with  rigid  accuracy.  The  anachro- 
nism does  not  seem  to  be  that  Pericles  and  Anaxagoras  should 
discuss  the  state  of  England,  but  that  Walter  Savage  Landor 
should  be  talking  modern  politics  in  ancient  Greek, —  so  thor- 
oughly are  the  man's  works  impregnated  with  himself.  But 
to  understand  this  fully  we  must  read  all  his  writings.  We 
only  mention  it  as  affecting  the  historical  veracity  of  his  char- 
acters, and  not  because  it  subtracts  anything  from  the  peculiar 
merits  which  belong  to  him  as  a  writer.  If  a  character  be  in 
rapport  with  his  own,  he  throws  into  it  the  whole  energy  of 
his  powerful  magnetism.  He  translates  every  thing  into  Lan- 
dor, just  as  Chapman  is  said  to  have  favored  Ajax,  in  his  ver- 
sion of  the  Iliaa.  Afler  we  are  once  put  upon  our  guard,  wo 
find  a  particular  enjoyment  in  this  intense  individuality.  We 
understand  that  he  is  only  borrowing  the  pulpits  of  other  peo- 
ple to  preach  his  own  notions  from,  and  we  feel  the  refresh- 
ment which  every  one  experiences  in  being  brought  within 
the  more  immediate  sphere  of  an  ori^nal  temperament  and  a 


1848.]        The  Worki  of  Walter  Savage  Landor.  67 

robust  organization.  We  discover,  at  last,  that  we  have  en- 
countered an  author  who  from  behind  a  variety  of  masks  can 
be  as  personally  communicative  as  Montaigne. 

The  epithet  robust  seems  to  us  particularly  applicable  to  y 
Landor.  And  his  is  the  robustness  of  a  naturally  vigorous  con- 
stituiion,  maintained  in  a  healthy  equipoise  by  regular  exercise. 
The  open  air  breathes  through  his  writings,  and  in  reading  him 
we  often  have  a  feeling  (to  use  a  local  phrase)  of  all  out^ 
doors.  In  saying  this  we  refer  to  the  general  freedom  of 
spirit,  to  the  natural  independence  confirmed  by  a  life  of  im- 
mediate contact  with  outward  nature,  and  only  thrown  back 
the  more  absolutely  on  its  own  resources  by  occasional  and  re- 
served commerce  with  mankind ;  tolerated  rather  than  sought 
by  a  haughty,  and  at  the  same  dme  exquisitely  sensitive  dispo- 
mtion.  We  should  add,  that  his  temperament  is  one  more 
keenly  alive  to  his  own  mterior  emotions  than  those  suggested 
to  him  from  without.  Consequently,  while  a  certain  purity 
and  refinement  suggest  an  intimacy  with  woods  and  fields,  the 
truest  and  tenderest  touches  of  his  pencil  are  those  of  human 
and  not  of  external  nature.  His  mountain  scenery  is  that  of 
the  soul ;  his  rural  landscapes  and  his  interiors  are  those  of  the 
heart.  K  there  should  seem  to  be  a  contradiction  between  the 
coarseness  and  the  delicacy  wo  have  attributed  to  him,  the  in- 
consistency is  in  himself.  We  may  find  the  source  of  both  in 
the  solitary  habit  of  his  nund.  The  one  is  the  natural  inde- 
pendence of  a  somewhat  rugged  organization,  whose  rough 
edges  have  never  been  smoothed  by  attrition  with  the  world, 
and  which,  unaccustomed  to  the  pliability  and  mutual  acconh 
modation  necessary  in  a  crowd,  resents  every  obstacle  as  in- 
tentional, every  brush  of  the  elbow  as  a  personal  affront.  ITie 
other  has  been  fostered  by  that  habitual  tendency  of  the  Iso- 
lated to  brood  over  and  analyze  their  own  sentiments  and  emo- 
tions. Or  shall  we  say  that  the  rough  exterior  is  assumed  aa 
a  shield  for  the  tenderness,  as  certain  insects  house  titemselves 
under  a  movable  roof  of  lichen  ?  This  is  sometimes  the  case, 
but  we  suspect  that  in  Landor  both  qualities  are  idiosyncratic. 
That  frailest  creation  of  the  human  imagination,  the  hamadry- 
ad, is  the  tenant  and  spirit  of  the  gnarled  oak,  which  grasps 
the  storm  in  its  arms.  To  borrow  a  comparison  from  thd 
Greeks,  to  whom  Landor  so  constantly  refers  us,  we  must  re- 
member that  Polyphemus,  while  he  was  sharpening  the  spit 
for  Ulysses,  was  pining  for  Galatea,  and  that  his  unrequited 
tenderness  sought  solace  in  crushing  his  rival  with  half  a 
mountain. 


68  The  Wark$  of  Walter  Savage  Landor.        [Deo. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  egoism :  one  which  is  constantly 
measuring  itself  by  others,  and  one  which  as  constantly  meas- 
ures others  by  itself.  This  last  we  call  originality.  It  so- 
dudes  a  man  from  external  influences,  and,  leaving  hun  nothing 
to  lean  upon  but  his  own  judgments  and  impressions,  teaches 
him  their  value  and  enables  him  to  inspire  other  men  with  the 
same  estimate  of  them.  In  this  sense  Landor  is  original. 
Tins  ^ves  all  that  he  writes  a  decided  charm,  and  makes  the 
better  part  of  it  exceedmgly  precious.  He  is  constructed 
altogether  on  a  large  scale.  His  littlenesses  are  great,  his 
weaknesses  decided ;  and  as  long  as  the  larger  part  of  men  are 
80  careful  to  give  us  any  thing  rather  than  themselves,  let  us 
learn  to  be  duly  thankful  for  even  a  littleness  that  is  sincere, 
nxA  a  weakness  that  is  genuine.  So  entirely  has  he  been 
himself,  that,  while  we  cannot  help  being  conscious  of  his  de- 
fidencies,  we  also  feel  compelled  to  grant  a  certun  kind  of 
completeness  in  him.  Whatever  else  he  might  have  been,  we 
sre  sure  that  he  could  not  have  been  more  of  a  Landor.  In 
ijate  of  the  seeming  contradictions  of  his  character,  it  would 
not  be  easy  to  find  a  life  and  mind  more  thorou^y  consistent 
than  his.  A  strenuous  persistency  marks  every  thmg  about 
him.  A  few  friendships  and  a  g^  many  animosities  have 
lasted  him  all  his  days.  He  may  add  to  l>oth,  but  ho  never 
lessens  the  number  of  either.  In  speaking  of  a  man  consti- 
tuted as  he  is,  it  would  perhaps  be  better  to  say  oppugnancies 
tiian  animosities.  For  an  animosity  properly  implies  contem- 
poraneousness, and  a  personal  feeling  towam  its  object ;  but 
ao  entirely  does  Landor  refer  every  wing  to  his  absolute  self, 
that  he  will  pursue  as  vindictively  a  dead  error,  or  a  dead  man, 
as  a  living  one.  It  is  as  they  affect  him  that  they  are  good  or 
bad.  It  IS  not  the  year  48  or  1848  that  is  past  or  present, 
but  simply  Walter  Savage  Landor.  With  hun  it  is  amicuM 
Plato  J  arnica  vmtaiy  magis  amicus  Landor.  His  sense  of 
his  own  worth  is  too  large  and  too  dignified  to  admit  of  per- 
sonal piques  and  jealousies.  He  resents  an  assault  upon  him* 
self  as  a  wrong  done  to  sound  literature,  and  accepts  commen- 
dation merely  as  a  tribute  to  truth. 

We  know  of  no  writer  whose  pages,  if  opened  at  random, 
are  more  sure  to  repay  us  than  tlwsc  of  Landor.  Nowhere 
ahall  we  find  admirable  thoughts  more  admirably  expressed, 
nowhere  sublimer  metaphors  or  more  delicate  ones,  nowhere 
a  mind  msunUuned  at  a  high  level  more  equably,  or  for  longer 
intervals.    There  is  no  author  who  surpasses,  and  few  who 


1848.]       The  WarTu  of  Walter  Saoage  Landor.  69 

e^[iial  him  m  purity  and  eleyation  of  stjle,  or  in  sustained 
dignity  and  weight  of  thought.  We  should  heatate  to  name 
any  writings  hut  Shakspeare's  which  would  afford  so  large  ant 
80  various  a  selection  ot  detached  passages  complete  and  pre> 
eious  in  themselves.  The  rarest  and  tenderest  emotions  of 
love  and  friendship  have  never  found  a  more  adequate  histo- 
rian. His  pathos  is  most  delicately  subdued.  He  approaches 
sorrow  with  so  quiet  a  footfall  and  so  hushing  a  gesture,  that 
we  are  fain  to  suspend  our  breath  and  the  falling  of  our  tears, 
lest  they  should  break  that  tender  silence.  It  is  not  to  look 
upon  a  picture  of  grief,  but  into  the  solemn  presence  of  grief 
herself,  that  he  leads  us. 

Landor  has  as  littie  humor  as  Massinger,  who  in  some  re-  V>/ 
spects  resembles  him,  though  at  an  mfinite  distance  below.  AD 
that  he  has  is  of  a  somewhat  gigantic  and  clumsy  sort.  He 
snatches  up  some  littie  personage  who  has  offended  him,  sets 
him  on  a  high  shelf,  and  makes  nim  chatter  and  stamp  for  his 
diversion.  He  has  so  long  conversed  in  imagination  with  the 
most  illustrious  spirits  of  all  ages,  that  there  is  a  plentifiil 
measure  of  contempt  in  his  treatment  of  those  he  esteems  un- 
worthy. His  lip  begins  to  curl  at  sight  of  a  king,  partiy  be- 
cause he  seems  to  consider  men  of  that  employment  fools,  and 
partiy  because  he  thinks  them  no  gentiemen.  For  Bourbons 
he  has  a  particular  and  vehement  contempt,  because  to  the 
folly  of  kingship  they  add  the  vileness  of  being  Frenchmen. 
He  is  a  theoretic  republican  of  the  stndn  of  S^ton,  Sydney, 
and  Harrington,  and  would  have  all  the  citizens  of  his  repuV 
fic  fiEu>descended  gentlemen  and  scholars. 

It  is  not  wonderful  that  Landor  has  never  been  a  popular  \ 
writer.  His  is  a  mind  to  be  quietiy  appreciated  rather  tiiaa  \  i 
to  excite  an  enthumastic  partisanship.  That  part  of  his  works 
which  applies  immediately  to  the  present  is  the  least  valuable* 
The  better  and  larger  portion  is  so  purely  imaginative,  so  truly 
ideal,  that  it  will  t^  as  fresh  and  true  a  hundiid  or  a  thousand 
years  hence  as  now.  His  writings  have  seldom  drawn  any 
notice  from  the  Reviews,  which  is  singular  only  when  we  con- 
nder  that  he  has  chosen  to  converse  almost  exclusively  with 
the  past,  and  is,  therefore,  in  some  sense,  a  contemporary  of 
those  post^ecular  periodicals.  The  appearance  of  a  collected 
edition  of  his  works  seems  more  like  the  publication  of  a  new 
edition  of  Plato  than  of  an  author  who  has  lived  through  the 
most  stirring  period  of  modem  history.  Not  that  he  does  not 
speak  and  speak  strongly  of  living  men  and  recent  events,- 


70  The  Works  of  Walter  Savage  Lcmdor.         [Dec. 

but  at  sach  times  the  man  is  often  wlioUj,  or  at  least  partially, 
obscured  in  the  Englishman. 

We  should  be  quite  at  a  loss  to  give  adequate  specimens  of 
a  man  so  various.  As  we  stated  in  the  outset,  we  shall  con- 
fine ourselves,  in  making  our  extracts,  to  the  '^  Hellenics,"  on 
a  brief  consideration  of  which  we  now  enter.  They  will  con- 
vince any  careful  reader  that  something  more  (we  do  not  say 
higher  or  finer)  goes  to  the  making  up  of  a  poet  than  is  in- 
chided  in  the  composition  of  the  most  eloquent  and  forcible  of 
prose-writers. 

Opulent  as  the  prose  of  Landor  is,  we  cannot  but  be  con- 
'  scions  of  something  like  poverty  in  his  verse.  He  is  too  mi- 
nutely circumstantial  for  a  poet,  and  that  tendency  of  hb  mind 
to  details,  which  we  before  alluded  to,  stands  in  his  way.  The 
same  careful  exactness  in  particulars  which  gives  finish  to  his 
prose  and  represses  any  tendency  to  redundance,  seems  to 
oppress  his  verse  and  to  deprive  it  of  flow.  He  is  a  poet  in 
bis  prose,  but  in  his  poetry  he  is  almost  a  proser.  His  con- 
ceptions are  in  Hke  fullest  sense  poetical,  but  he  stops  just  on 
ibe  hither  side  of  adequate  expression.  He  comes  short  by 
flb  mere  a  h{dr*sbreadth  that  there  is  something  pidnful  in  it. 
There  is  beauty  of  a  certain  kind,  but  the  witching  grace  is 
wanting. 

And  pfunfaUj  the  soul  receives 
Sense  of  that  s^one  which  it  had  nerer  mist, 
Of  somewhat  lost,  hut  whm  it  never  wist 

In  verse  Landor  seems  like  a  person  expressing  himself  m 
a  foreign  language.  He  may  attain  to  perfect  accuracy  and 
elegance,  but  the  native  ease  is  out  of  his  reach.  We  said 
before  that  his  power  lay  less  in  developing  a  continuous  train 
of  thought,  than  in  presenting  single  thoughts  in  their  entire 
fulness  of  proportion.  But  in  poetry,  it  is  necessary  that  each 
^m  should  be  informed  with  a  homogeneous  spirit,  which 
now  represses  the  thought,  now  forces  it  to  overflow,  and 
everywhere  modulates  the  metre  and  the  cadence  by  an  in- 
stinct of  which  we  can  understand  the  operations,  though  we 
may  be  unable  to  define  the  mode  of  them.  Beside  this,  we 
should  say  that  Landor  possessed  a  choice  of  language,  and  is 
not  possessed  by  that  irresistible  and  happy  necessity  of  the 
true  poet  toward  the  particular  word  whose  place  no  other  can 
be  made  to  fit.  His  nicety  in  specialties  imprisons  him  for 
the  time  in  each  particular  verse  or  passage,  and  the  poem 


1848.]        The  Work$  of  Watter  Savage  Landor.  71 

seems  not  to  have  grown,  but  to  have  been  built  np  slowly, 
with  square,  single  bricks,  each  carefully  moulded,  pressed, 
and  baked  beforehand.  Sometimes,  where  a  single  thought 
or  feeling  is  to  be  expressed,  he  appears  exactly  the  man  for 
the  occasion. 

We  must  not  be  sui^posed  to  deny  the  presence,  in  Lander's 
"  Hellenics,"  of  those  fine  qualities  which  we  admire  in  his  prose. 
We  mean  that  the  beauties  are  not  specially  those  of  poetry, 
and  that  they  gain  nothing  from  the  verse.  The  almost  invis- 
ible nerves  of  the  most  reared  emotions  are  traced  with  rapid 
and  familiar  accuracy,  rare  shades  of  sentiment  and  character 
are  touched  with  a  delicacy  peculiar  to  Landor,  noble  thou^ts 
are  presented  to  us,  and  metaphors  fresh  from  nature.  %ut 
we  fold  no  quality  here  which  is  not  in  his  prose.  The  "  Hel- 
lenics" seem  like  admirable  translations  of  original  poems.  It 
would  be  juster,  perhaps,  to  say  that  they  impress  us  as  Greek 
poetry  does.  We  appreciate  the  poet  more  than  the  poetry, 
in  wmch  the  Northern  mind  feels  an  indefinable  lack. 

The  "Hellenics"  have  positive  merits,  but  they  are  not  ex- 
clumvely  those  of  poetry.  They  belong  to  every  thing  which 
Landor  has  written.  We  should  mention,  as  especially  promi- 
nent, entire  clearness,  and  so  thorough  an  absorption  of  the 
author  in  his  subject  that  he  does  not  cast  about  hun  for  some- 
thing to  say,  but  is  only  careful  of  what  he  shall  reject.  He 
does  not  tell  us  too  much,  and  wound  our  self-esteem  by  al- 
ways taking  it  for  granted  that  we  do  not  know  any  thing,  and 
cannot  imagme  any  thing. 

We  should  be  inclined  to  select,  as  favorable  specimens  of 
bis  poetry,  "  Thraaymedea  and  Eunoe^^  "  The  Hamadry- 
ady^  "  Uncdloa  and  Cymodameiay^  and  the  last  poem  of  the 
"Hellenics,"  to  which  no  title  is  prefixed.  Of  these  the  last  is 
most  characteristic  of  Landor  and  of  his  scholarly  and  gentle- 
manlike love  of  freedom ;  but  the  one  most  likely  to  be  gener- 
ally pleasmg  is  the  "  Haraadryad^'*  in  copying  which  we  agfdn 
repeat  that  we  consider  Landor  as  eminently  a  poet — though 
not  in  verse.  The  more  precious  attributes  of  the  character 
he  possesses  in  as  high  a  aegree  as  any  modem  Englishman. 

Khaicos  was  born  amid  the  hills  wherefrom 
Gnidos  the  light  of  Caria  is  discerned, 
And  small  arc  the  white-crested  that  play  near, 
And  smaller  onward  are  the  purple  waves. 
Thence  festal  choirs  were  risible,  all  crown'd 
With  rose  and  myrtle  if  they  were  inborn ; 
If  fipom  Pandion  sprang  they,  on  the  coast 


TS  The  Works  of  Walter  Savage  Lmdar.        [Dec. 

Where  stem  Athen^  raised  ber  citadel. 
Then  olive  was  intwined  with  violets 
Clustered  in  bosses,  regular  and  large. 
For  Tarioos  men  wore  various  coronals ; 
But  one  was  their  devotion :  *twas  to  her 
Whose  laws  all  follow,  her  whose  smile  withdraws 
The  sword  from  Ar^  thunderbolt  from  Zeus, 
And  whom  in  his  chill  caves  the  mntable 
Of  mind,  Poseidon,  the  sea-king,  reveres. 
And  whom  his  brother,  stubborn  Dis,  hath  prayed 
To  turn  in  pity  the  averted  cheek 
Of  her  he  bore  away,  with  promises, 
Nay,  with  loud  oath  before  dread  Styx  itself, 
To  give  her  daily  more  and  sweeter  flowera 
Than  he  made  drop  from  her  on  Enna*s  delL 
Rhucos  was  looking  from  his  father's  door 
At  the  long  trains  that  hastened  to  the  town 
From  all  the  volleys,  like  bright  rivulets 
Gurgling  with  eladness,  wave  outrunning  wave, 
And  thought  it  bard  he  might  not  also  go 
And  offer  up  one  prayer,  and  press  one  nand. 
He  knew  not  whose     The  father  call'd  him  in. 
And  said, "  Son  Rhaicos !  those  are  idle  games ; 
Long  enough  I  have  lived  to  find  them  sa" 
And  ere  he  ended,  sigh'd ;  as  old  men  do 
Always,  to  think  how  idle  such  games  are. 
**I  have  not  yet,**  thought  Rhaicos  in  his  heart, 
And  wanted  proof. 

**  Suppose  thou  go  and  help 
Echion  at  the  hill,  to  oark  yon  (wk 
And  lop  its  branches  off,  tiefore  we  delve 
About  ue  trunk  and  ply  the  root  with  axe : 
This  we  may  do  in  wmtcr." 

Rhaicos  went; 
For  thence  he  could  see  farther,  and  see  mora 
Of  those  who  hurried  to  the  city-gate. 
Echion  he  found  there,  with  naked  arm 
Swart-hair*d,  strong  sinew*d,  and  his  eyes  intent 
Upon  the  place  where  first  the  axe  should  fail : 
He  held  it  upright    **  There  ara  bees  about, 
Or  wasps,  or  hornets,**  said  the  cautious  eld, 
**  Look  sharp,  O  son  of  Thallinos !  *'    The  youth 
Inclined  his  ear,  afar,  and  warily. 
And  cavem*d  in  his  hand.    He  heard  a  buss 
At  first,  and  then  the  sound  grew  soft  and  clear, 
And  then  divided  into  what  seem*d  tune, 
And  there  were  words  upon  it,  plaintive  words. 
He  tum*d  and  said,  **  Echion !  do  not  strike 
That  tree :  it  must  be  hollow ;  for  some  God 
Speaks  from  within.    Come  thyself  near.**    Again 
Both  turned  toward  it :  and  behold !  there  sat 
Upon  the  moss  below,  with  her  two  palms 
Pressing  it,  on  each  side,  a  maid  in  form. 
Downcast  were  her  long  eyelashes,  and  pale 
Her  cheek,  but  never  mountain-ash  display*d 
Berries  of  color  like  her  lip  so  pure. 
Nor  were  the  anemones  about  her  hair 
Soft,  smooth,  and  wavering  like  the  face  beneath. 
"What  dost  thou  here?**    Echion  half-afhud, 


1848.]        The  Wark$  of  Walter  Savage  Landar.  7» 

Half-an^,  cried.    Sho  lifted  up  her  ejes, 
Bat  nothing:  spake  she.    Rhaicos  drew  one  step 
Backward,  for  fear  came  likewise  over  him. 
Bat  not  sach  fear:  he  panted,  gaspt,  drew  in 
His  breath,  and  woald  have  tamed  it  into  words, 
Bat  coald  not  into  one. 

'^O  send  away 
That  sad  old  man  1  ^  said  she.    The  old  man  went 
Without  a  warning  from  his  master's  son, 
Glad  to  escape,  for  sorely  he  now  fear'd, 
And  the  axe  shone  behind  him  in  their  eyes. 

Hamadryad.    And  wouldst  thoa  too  shed  the  most  innocent 
Of  blood  1  no  tow  demands  it ;  no  God  wills 
The  oak  to  bleed. 

Rhako9,  Who  art  thoa  t  whence  ?  why  here  ! 

And  whither  woaldst  thoa  go  ?    Among  the  robed 
In  white  or  saffron,  or  the  hue  that  most 
Reseml)les  dawn  or  the  clear  skv,  is  none 
ArrayM  as  thoa  art.    What  so  beaotiful 
As  that  gray  robe  which  clings  about  thee  close, 
Like  moss  to  stones  adhering,  leaves  *o  trees, 
Tet  lets  thv  bosom  rise  and  fall  in  tarn, 
As,  toacht  by  zephyrs,  fall  and  rise  the  boagfas 
Of  sracefal  platan  by  the  riverside. 

Hamadryad.    Lovest  thoa  well  thy  father's  honse  ? 

Bhaico$.  Indeed 

I  love  it,  well  I  love  it,  yet  woald  leave 
For  thine,  where'er  it  be,  my  futher's  house. 
With  all  the  marks  upon  the  door,  that  show 
My  growth  at  every  birthday  since  the  third, 
And  all  the  charms,  overpowering  evil  eyes, 
My  mother  naiPd  for  me  against  my  bed. 
And  the  Cydonian  bow  (which  thoa  shalt  see) 
Won  in  my  race  last  spring  from  Eatychos. 

Hamadryad.    Bethink  what  it  is  to  leave  a  home 
Thoa  never  yet  has  left,  one  night,  one  day. 

JOudcoB,    No,  'tis  not  hard  to  leave  it ;  ^tis  not  hard 
To  leave,  O  maiden,  that  paternal  home, 
If  there  be  one  on  earth  whom  we  may  love 
First,  last,  for  ever ;  one  who  says  that  she 
Will  love  for  ever  too.    To  say  which  word, 
Only  to  say  it,  sarely  is  enongh  .  . 
It  shows  sach  kindness  .  .  if  'twere  possible 
We  at  the  moment  think  she  wonid  indeed. 

Hamadryad.    Who  taught  thee  all  this  folly  at  thy  age  ? 

BhaieoM.    I  have  seen  lovers  and  have  learnt  to  love. 

Hamadryad,    But  wUt  thou  spare  the  tree  ? 

IUutiro9.  My  father  wants 

The  bark ;  the  tree  may  hold  its  place  awhile. 

Ihmadryad.    Awhile  1  thy  father  numbers  then  my  days  f 

Bhttko9.    Are  there  no  others  where  the  moss  beneath 
Is  quite  as  tufty !    Who  would  send  thee  forth 
Or  ask  thee  why  thou  tarriest  1    Is  thy  flock 
Anywhere  near? 

tJamadryad,  I  have  no  flock :  I  kill 

Nothing  that  breathes,  that  stirs,  that  feels  the  air, 
The  sun,  the  dew.    Why  should  the  beautiful 
(And  thou  art  beautifUl)  disturb  the  source 
Whence  springs  all  beauty  1    Hast  thoa  never  heard 
Of  Hamadryads! 


74  The  Works  of  WaUer  Savage  Landor.        [Doc. 

Bhairoi,  Heard  of  them  I  have : 

Tell  me  some  tale  ahout  them.    May  I  sit 
Beside  thy  feet  ?    Art  thoa  not  tired  ?    The  herbs 
Are  very  soft;  I  will  not  come  too  nis^h ; 
Do  bat  sit  there,  nor  tremble  so,  nor  doubt 
Stay,  stay  an  instant:  let  me  first  explore 
If  any  acorn  of  last  year  be  left 
Withm  it;  thy  thin  robe  too  ill  protects 
Thy  dainty  limbs  against  the  harm  one  small 
Acorn  may  do.    Here^s  none.    Another  day 
Trust  me  :*  till  then  let  me  sit  opposite. 

Hamadryad.    I  seat  me;  be  thou  seated,  and  content 

Bhaico9.    O  sight  for  sods  I    Te  men  below !  adore 
The  Aphrodite    b  she  diere  below  ? 
Or  sits  she  here  before  me?  as  she  sate 
Before  the  shepherd  on  those  highths  that  shade 
The  Hellespont,  and  brought  his  kindred  woe. 

Hamadryad,    Reverence  the  higher  Powers ;  nor  deem  amiai 
Of  her  who  pleads  to  thee,  and  would  repay  .  . 
Ask  not  how  much  . .  but  very  much.    Kise  not: 
Ko,  Rhaicos,  no !  Without  the  nuptial  vow 
Love  is  unholy.    Swear  to  me  that  none 
Of  mortal  maids  shall  ever  taste  thy  kiss. 
Then  take  thou  mine ;  then  take  it,  not  before. 

Rhawo».    Hearken,  all  gods  above  I  O  Aphrodite ! 

0  Her^ !  let  my  vow  be  ratified ! 

But  wilt  thou  come  into  my  father's  house  ? 

Hamadryad,    Nay :  and  of  mine  I  can  not  give  thee  part 

Rkakot,       Where  is  it  ? 

Hamadryad,    In  this  oak. 

BhaicoM.  Ay;  now  begins 

The  tale  of  Hamadryad :  tell  it  through. 

Hamadryad.    Pray  of  thy  father  never  to  cut  down 
My  tree ;  and  promise  him,  as  thou  mayst, 
That  every  year  he  shall  receive  from  me 
More  honey  than  will  buy  him  nine  fat  sheep, 
More  wax  than  he  will  bum  to  all  the  gods. 
Why  fallest  thou  upon  thy  face  ?    Some  thorn 
Mav  scratch  it,  rash  young  man  1  Rise  up ;  for  shame ! 

Bhaico$.    Fot  shame  I  can  not  rise.    O  pity  me ! 

1  dare  not  sue  for  love  .  .  but  do  not  hate ! 

Let  me  once  more  behold  thee  .  .  not  once  more, 
But  many  days :  let  me  love  on  .  .  unloved ! 
I  aimed  too  high :  on  my  own  head  Uie  bolt 
Falls  back,  and  pierces  to  the  very  brain. 

Hamadryad.    Qo  .  .  rather  go,  than  make  me  say  I  love. 

BkaieoM.    If  happiness  is  immortality, 
(And  whence  enjoy  it  else  the  gods  above  ?) 
I  am  immortal  too :  my  vow  is  heard : 
Hark !  on  the  left . .  Nay,  turn  not  from  me  now, 
I  claim  my  kiss. 

Hamadryad,       Do  men  take  first,  then  claim  ! 
Do  thus  the  seasons  run  their  course  wiUi  them  1 

. .  Her  lips  were  seaPd ;  her  head  sank  on  his  breast 

'Tis  said  that  laughs  were  heard  within  the  wood : 

But  who  should  hear  them  t . .  and  whose  laughs  t  and  why  ? 

Savoury  was  the  smell  and  lon^  past  noon, 
Thallinos  1  in  thy  house ;  for  marjoram. 


1848.  J       The  WwtTcb  of  WdUer  Savage  Lmdar.  76. 

BmiI  and  mint,  and  thyme  and  rosemary, , 
Were  iprinkled  on  the  kid*8  well  roasted  length, 
Awaiting  Rhaicos.    Home  he  came  at  last, 
Not  hangry,  hut  pretending  hunger  keen, 
With  head  and  eves  just  o^er  the  maple  plate. 
**  Thou  seest  bat 'badly,  coming  from  the  son. 
Boy  Rhaicos !  *'  said  the  father.    "  That  oak*i  baik 
Mast  have  been  tough,  with  little  sap  between ; 
It  ought  to  run ;  but  it  and  I  are  ola." 
Khaicos,  although  each  morsel  of  the  bread 
Increased  by  chewing,  and  the  meat  grew  cold 
And  tasteless  to  his  palate,  took  a  draught 
Of  gold-bright  wine,  which,  thirsty  as  he  was, 
He  thought  not  of  until  his  father  fiU'd 
The  cup,  arcrring  water  was  amiss, 
But  wine  had  been  at  all  times  poured  on  kid, . . 
It  was  religion. 

He  thus  fortified, 
Said,  not  quite  boldly,  and  not  quite  ahasht, 
**  Father,  that  oak  is  Jove's  own  tree:  that  oak 
Year  after  year  will  bring  thee  wealth  from  wax 
And  honey.    There  is  one  who  fears  the  gods 
And  the  gods  love  .  .  that  one" 

(He  blusht,  nor  said 
What  one) 

**  Has  promist  this,  and  may  do  more. 
Thou  hast  not  many  moons  to  wait  until 
The  bees  have  done  their  best:  if  then  there  come 
Nor  wax  nor  honey,  let  the  tree  be  hewn." 

**  Zeus  hath  bestow'd  on  thee  a  prudent  mind," 
Said  the  glad  sire :  but  look  thou  often  there, 
And  gather  all  the  honey  thou  canst  find 
In  every  crevice,  over  and  above 
What  has  been  promist :  would  they  reckon  thati " 

Rhaicos  went  daily ;  but  the  nymph  as  oft 
Invisible.    To  plav  at  love,  she  knew. 
Stopping  its  breathings  when  it  breathes  most  soft, 
Is  sweeter  than  to  play  on  any  pipe. 
She  plav*d  on  his:  she  fed  upon  his  sighs : 
Thev  pleased  her  when  they  gently  waved  her  hair, 
Cooling  the  pulses  of  her  purple  veins, 
And  when  her  absence  brought  them  out  diey  pleased. 
Even  among  the  fondest  of  them  all, 
What  mortal  or  immortal  maid  is  more 
Content  with  giving  happiness  than  pain  ? 
One  day  he  was  returning  from  the  wood 
Despondently.    She  piti^  him,  and  siud 
**  Come  back !  **  and  twined  her  fingers  in  the  hem 
Above  his  shoulder.    Then  she  led  his  steps 
To  a  cool  rill  that  ran  o'er  level  sand 
Through  lentisk  and  throu^  oleander,  there 
Bathed  she  his  feet,  lifting  Uiem  on  her  lap 
When  bathed,  and  drying  them  in  both  her  hands. 
He  dared  complain ;  for  those  who  most  are  loved 
Most  dare  it;  but  not  harsh  was  his  complaint 
''O  thou  inconstant  r  said  she,  **if  stem  law 
Bind  thee,  or  will,  stronger  than  sternest  law, 
O,  let  me  know  henceforward  when  to  hope 
The  fruit  of  love  that  grows  for  me  bat  here." 


le  The  Works  of  Walter  Savage  Landor.         [Deo. 

He  spak^;  and  plackt  it  from  its  pliant  stem. 

**  Impatient  Rhaicos  I  why  thus  intercept 

The  answer  I  woald  give?    There  is  a  bee 

Whom  I  have  fed,  a  bee  who  knows  my  thoughts 

And  executes  my  wishes ;  I  will  send 

That  messenger.    If  ever  thou  art  fiUse, 

Drawn  by  another,  own  it  not,  but  drive 

My  bee  away :  then  shall  I  know  my  fate, 

And, . .  for  thou  must  be  wretched, . .  weep  at  thine. 

But  often  as  my  heart  persuades  to  lay 

Its  cares  on  thine  and  throb  itself  to  rest, 

Expect  her  with  thee,  whether  it  be  mom 

Or  eve,  at  any  time  when  woods  are  safe.** 

Day  after  day  the  Hours  beheld  them  blest, 
Season  after  season :  years  had  past, 
Blest  were  they  still.    He  who  asserts  that  Love 
Ever  is  sated  of  sweet  things,  the  same 
Sweet  thing  he  fretted  for  in  earlier  dajrs, 
Never,  b^  Zeus !  loved  he  a  Hamadryad. 

The  nights  had  now  grown  longer,  and  perhaps 
The  Hamadryads  find  them  lone  and  dull 
Among  their  woods :  one  did,  alas  I    She  called 
Her  faithful  bee :  'twas  when  all  bees  should  sleep, 
And  all  did  sleep  but  hers.    She  was  sent  forth 
To  bring  that  light  which  never  wintry  blast 
Blows  out,  nor  rain  nor  snow  extinguishes, 
The  light  that  shines  from  loving  eyes  upon 
Eyes  that  love  bock,  till  they  can  see  no  more. 

Rhaicos  was  sitting  at  his  father's  hearth: 
Between  them  stood  the  table,  not  o'erspread 
With  fruits  which  autumn  now  profusely  bore, 
Nor  anise  cakes,  nor  odorous  wine ;  but  there 
The  draft-board  was  expanded ;  at  which  game 
Triumphant  sat  old  Thallinos ;  the  son 
Was  puzzled,  voxt,  discomfited,  distraught 
A  buzz  was  at  his  ear :  up  went  his  hand. 
And  it  was  heard  no  longer.    The  poor  bee 
Retnm'd  (but  not  until  Uie  mom  shone  bright) 
And  found  the  Hamadryad  with  her  head 
Upon  her  adiing  wrist,  and  showed  one  wing 
Half-broken  off,  the  other's  meshes  marr'd. 
And  there  were  braises  which  no  eye  could  see 
Saving  a  Hamadryad's. 

At  this  sight 
Down  fell  the  languid  brow,  both  hands  fell  down, 
A  shriek  was  carried  to  the  ancient  hall 
Of  Thallinos :  he  heard  it  not ;  his  son 
Heard  it,  and  ran  forthwith  into  the  wood. 
No  bark  was  on  the  tree,  no  leaf  was  green. 
The  trank  was  riven  through.    From  that  day  forth 
Nor  word  nor  whisper  soothed  his  car,  nor  sound 
Even  of  insect  wing :  but  loud  laments 
The  woodmen  and  the  shepherds  one  long  year 
Heard  day  and  night ;  for  Khaicos  would  not  quit 
The  solitary  place,  but  moan'd  and  died. 


1848.]    A  New  Theory  of  the  Effect  of  Hit  Tides.  TT 

Hence  milk  and  boner  wonder  not,  0  guest, 
To  find  set  duly  on  the  hollow  stone. 

In  ibis  brief  and  bastj  article  we  have  not  attempted  any      / 
tlung  like  an  adequate  criticism  of  one  of  the  most  peculiar    / 
and  delightful  writers  in  the  English  language.     We  have 
onlj  stated  some  of  Uie  sharper  impressions  of  him  which  ro- 
mam  in  our  memory,  after  an  acquaintance  of  many  years.  (/^ 
We  feel  that  what  we  have  said  is  exceedmgly  imperfect* 
But  we  shall  be  satisfied  if  we  lead  any  one  to  desire  that 
better  knowledge  of  him  which  his  works  alone  can  furnish. 
To  give  an  idea  of  the  character  of  the  man,  a  very  few  quo- 
tations would  suffice,  but  to  show  the  value  of  his  writings  we 
should  be  obliged  to  copy  nearly  all  of  them.    We  are  some- 
times inclined  to  think  of  Wordsworth,  that,  if  he  has  not  re- 
duced poetry  to  the  level  of  conmionplace,  he  has  at  least 
glorified  commonplace  by  elevating  it  into  the  diviner  aether 
of  poetry ;  and  we  may  say  of  Landor  that  he  has  clothed  / 
common-sense  with  the  singing-robes  of  imagination.    In'tlus  / 
respect  he  resembles  Groethe,  and  we  feel  that  he  eminentiy 
deserves  one  of  the  titles  of  the  great  German  —  the  Wise, 
for,  as  common-sense  dwelling  in  the  ordinary  plane  of  life 
becomes  experience  and  prudence,  so,  looking  down  from  the 
summits  of  ima^nation,  she  is  heightened  into  inspratiim 
and  wisdom. 


abt.  v.— a  new  theory  of  the  effect  op 

THE  Tn)ES. 

Among  the  discoveries  in  science  recentlv  made  on  this 
side  of  the  ocean,  is  one  which  has  excited,  much  interest 
among  geologists  and  navigators;  and  which  seems  to  us 
equally  to  merit  the  attention  of  scientific  men  in  Europe.  Wo 
mean  the  tide-theory  of  Captain  Davis,  recently  laid  before 
the  Association  of  American  Geologists  and  Naturalists  in 
Philadelphia.  Having  had  occasion  to  become  familiar  with 
the  elements  of  this  theory  during  a  stay  of  several  months 
this  summer,  on  board  the  vessel  commanded  by  Captiun 
Davis,  as  the  officer  superintending  one  of  the  divisions  of  the 
United  States  Coast-Survey,  we  thought  it  might  be  profitable 
to  publish  a  sketch  of  the  principal  results  at  which  our 


78  A  New  Theory  of  the  Effect  of  the  Tides.      [Dec. 

learned  friend  has  arrived,  after  long  and  patient  investigar 
tions.* 

The  eastern  coast  of  the  United  States  is  bordered  through- 
out its  whole  extent  by  a  line  of  sand-banks  and  islands  of 
very  various  forms  and  outlines,  but  very  uniform  in  their 
mineralogical  character,  being  composed,  for  the  most  part,  of 
a  fine  white  and  very  quartzose  sand.  On  the  coasts  of  the 
Southern  States,  (the  Carolinas  and  Virginia),  they  form  a 
chain  of  low  islands,  separated  from  the  coast  by  a  series  of 
lagoons,  which  give  a  peculiar  character  to  the  navigation  of 
those  districts. 

Higher  up,  on  the  southern  coasts  of  New  England,  they 
occur  as  submarine  ridges,  parallel  to  the  coast,  and  separated 
from  each  other  by  wide  channels.  Farther  North,  these  de- 
posits are  more  extensive,  and  form  vast  submarine  plateaus, 
such  as  the  St.  George's  and  Newfoundland  Banks.  Finally, 
deposits  analogous  to  these  are  formed  at  the  bottom  of  bays, 
but  in  a  state  of  more  complete  trituration.  These  are  known 
under  the  name  of  flats. 

Mr.  Davis,  after  having  devoted  several  years  to  the  study 
of  these  various  species  of  banks,  has  arrived  at  this  result : 
that  their  formSy  extent^  and  distribution  are  principally  deter- 
Tinned  by  tides  ;  —  the  wind  and  the  waves  playing  but  a  sub- 
ordinate part  in  their  formation. 

One  of  the  first  points  on  which  Mr.  Davis  insists.  Is  the 
relation  that  exists  between  the  strength  of  tides  and  the  dis- 
tribution of  sand-banks.  On  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  we  in- 
variably find  sand-banks  most  numerous  where  the  tides  are 
slight,  or  where  their  force  is  exhausted  after  having  been 
considerable.  Mr.  Davis  accounts  for  this  in  the  following 
manner :  —  According  to  the  researches  of  Mr.  Whewell,  the 
tidal  wave,  on  entering  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  passes  onward  in 
the  form  of  an  arc  ;  the  convexity  of  which  is  turned  toward 
the  north.  In  its  progress  northward,  this  wave  strikes  against 
the  coasts  of  the  two  continents  of  Africa  and  America.  From 
this  shock  proceed  the  various  local  currents  which  are  desig- 
nated under  the  name  of  tidal  currents,  the  direction  and 
rapidity  of  which  are  determined  by  the  shape  of  the  coasts. 
Their  rapidity  is,  in  general,  in  proportion  to  the  directness  of 
the  obstacles  opposing  them,  ana  the  narrowness  of  the  chan- 


*  Mr.  Daris  is  now  en^^ed  in  preparing  a  detailed  paper  on  this  rabject, 
which  will  appear  in  the  transactions  of  the  American  Academy. 


1848.]    A  New  Theory  of  the  Effect  of  the  Tidee.  79 

nels  through  which  they  run.  These  tidal  currents,  in  run* 
ning  with  great  rapidity  along  a  coast,  raise  up  and  carry 
with  them  the  movable  deposits  and  the  detritus  of  all  sorts 
which  the  waves  and  atmospheric  forces  have  detached  from 
the  beaches.  These  cun-ents,  however,  soon  lose  their  force, 
unless  new  obstacles  come  in  their  way ;  and  in  proportion  as 
they  abate,  the  substances  held  suspended  begin  to  be  depos- 
ited. Any  inequality  of  the  bottom  is  then  sufficient  to  form 
the  nucleus  or  point  of  departure  of  a  sand-bank,  the  direction 
of  which  will  be  parallel  to  that  of  the  current.  Such,  for  in- 
stance, is  the  origin  of  the  narrow  banks  bordering  the  island 
of  Nantucket,  and  known  under  the  names  of  Bass  Rip,  Great 
Rip,  South  Shoal,  &c. 

But  the  most  favorable  conditions  for  the  formation  of  sand* 
deposits  exist  where  the  tidal  current,  after  passing  a  promon- 
tory, is  deflected  laterally  into  a  wide  bay,  where  it  can  ex- 
pand freely.  Not  only  the  heavy  materials,  but  also  the 
more  minute  particles  are  then  deposited  at  the  bottom  of  tiie 
bay;  no  longer  under  the  form  of  narrow  ridges,  but  as  broad 
continuous  strata  or  flatSy  generally  composed  of  very  fine 
sand,  or  of  calcareous  mud,  where  the  deposit  takes  place  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  coral  reefs.  This  is  the  reason  why  the 
most  extensive  and  regular  deposits  are  found  at  the  bottom 
of  wide  bays.  Cape  Cod  Bay,  on  the  coast  of  Massachu- 
setts, is  cited  by  Mr.  Davis  as  an  example  of  this  mode  of 
deposition. 

On  the  contrary,  when  the  bay  is  narrow,  as  the  fiords  of 
Norway,  or  when  it  lies  in  the  direction  of  the  current,  so  as 
to  allow  the  tide  to  rush  in  without  obstacle  and  rise  to  a  great 
height,  as  for  instance  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  the  ebb  and  flood 
are  too  violent,  and  occasion  too  rapid  currents  to  allow  the 
water  to  deposit  any  of  the  materials  which  it  holds  suspend- 
ed. Hence  it  is  that  such  bays  are  generally  without  sand- 
banks, unless  it  be  in  their  lateral  coves. 

A  remarkable  phenomenon  takes  place  when  the  tidal  cur^ 
rent  flows  with  a  moderate  rapidity  along  a  coast,  so  as  to 
deposit  a  bank  of  sand  against  the  cliiTd.  In  this  case,  it  is 
not  unusual  to  see  the  bank  stretchhig  out  into  the  sea,  but 
instead  of  following  the  direction  of  the  coast,  it  inclines,  from 
the  pressure  from  without,  towards  the  interior  of  the  bay,  so 
as  to  describe  a  bend,  which  the  seamen  of  this  country  call  a 
Hook.  Sandy  Hook,  in  the  bay  of  New  York,  is  of  this  char- 
acter.    Such,  also,  are  the  Hook  of  Cape  Cod  and  the  Hook 


80  A  New  Theory  of  the  Effect  of  the  Tidee.      [Deo. 

of  Holland.  The  direction  of  the  Hook  is  invariably  that  of 
the  current. 

The  coasts  of  Europ  offer  numerous  examples  of  these 
rarious  forms  of  alluvial  deposits.  Lines  of  narrow  banks, 
like  those  on  the  coasts  of  New  Jersey  and  the  Carolinas,  have 
been  described  by  M.  Elie  de  Beaumont,  on  the  shores  of 
France,  as,  for  instance,  near  Dieppe,  and  in  the  department 
of  Finisterre.  On  the  other  hand,  the  Bay  of  Biscay  offers 
in  its  sands,  (which  are  carried  by  the  winds  into  the  mterior 
and  formed  into  dunes,)  a  striking  example  of  the  bay-depos- 
its. But  it  is  the  Netherlands  that  ment  the  greatest  atten- 
tion. Sand-banks  are  rare  on  the  northwest  coasts  of  France, 
but  no  sooner  do  we  quit  the  Channel  than  we  find  them 
scattered  throughout  the  North  Sea.  Holland  itself  is  in  a 
great  measure  formed  of  alluvial  sand.  Now  these  depofflts 
are  formed  precisely  on  the  spot  most  favorable  to  the  form- 
ation of  alluvial  deposits :  namely,  where  the  tidal  current, 
having  passed  through  the  Channel,  enters  the  vast  basin  of 
the  North  Sea.  The  deposition  of  sand-banks  in  the  North 
Sea  is  favored,  moreover,  by  the  meeting  of  two  tides  on  the 
coast  of  Jutland,  (one  coming  from  the  Channel  and  the  other 
passing  round  the  island  of  Great  Britain,)  forming  what  the 
hydrographers  call  a  tide  node^  which  implies,  generally,  a 
continual  eddy,  which  is  more  favorable  than  any  thing  to  flie 
formation  of  sand-banks. 

Considered  in  their  general  connection,  the  alluvial  deposits 
of  a  continent  should  be  looked  upon  as  the  product  of  a  series 
of  currents  and  eddies  alternating  with  eacn  other,  the  final 
result  of  which  is  to  transport,  in  the  direction  of  the  flood,  the 
movable  materials  which  the  waves  and  atmospheric  agents 
have  detached  from  the  coast-beaches.  This  is  particularly 
striking  on  the  coast  of  the  United  States.  The  alluvial 
deposits  form,  at  first,  only  a  narrow  line  on  the  coast  of  Flor- 
ida ;  this  line  enlarges  insensibly  on  the  coasts  of  the  Caro- 
linas, Virginia,  and  New  Jersev;  it  becomes  wider  on  the 
coast  of  Alassachusetts,  and  finally  attains  the  maximum  of  its 
development  in  the  Grand  Bank  of  Newfoundland. 

This  process  is  of  the  highest  importance  in  the  economy 
of  nature,  if  we  consider  that  the  banks  thus  formed  by  the 
tidal  currents  are  the  principal  seats  of  animal  life  in  the 
ocean.  It  is  upon  the  banks  which  border  tiie  coast  of  the 
United  States  that  the  most  extensive  fisheries  are  carried  on, 
(particularly  the  St.  George's  and  Newfoundland  Banks,) 


1848.]    A  New  Theory  qf  the  Effect  qf  the  Tide$.  81 

beeaase  these  are  the  abodes  of  those  myriads  of  invertebral 
animals  (worms,  moUosks,  and  zoophytes,)  which  serve  for 
the  food  of  fishes,  whilst  the  great  aepths  of  the  ocean,  at  a 
short  distance  from  the  banks,  are  almost  deserts. 

l?he  tides  are  not  less  important  from  the  manner  in  which 
tiiej  influence  river-deposits.  Hitherto  the  formation  of  del- 
tas, such  as  those  of  the  I£ssissippi,  the  Nile,  the  Orinoco, 
fuid  other  rivers,  has  been  attributed  too  exclosivelv  to  the 
great  quantities  of  mud  which  these  rivers  transport.  It  seems 
to  be  forgotten  that  other  rivers,  such  as  the  Amazon,  the  Rio 
de  la  Plata,  the  Delaware,  and  others,  are  not  less  muddy,  and 
yet,  instead  of  forming  deltas  at  their  mouths,  they  empty  mto 
wide  bays. 

Mr.  Davb,  on  the  contrary,  shows  that  deltas  are  in  an  in- 
verse ratio  to  the  tides,  so  that  they  exist  only  where  the  tides 
are  feeble  or  null;  whilst  we  find  estuaries  wherever  the  tides 
are  considerable.  Take,  for  example,  the  rivers  of  the  eastern 
coast  of  the  United  States,  and  most  of  the  rivers  of  Europe 
which  emp^  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  And  this  is  perfectly 
natural.  The  tide,  on  entering  a  river,  accumulates  during 
the  flood,  and  keeps  back  the  water  of  the  stream,  so  that 
when  the  ebb  begins,  the  water,  in  escaping,  forms  a  current 
strong  enough  to  carrv  off  to  sea  the  princi^  part  of  the  ma- 
terials held  suspended  in  the  river-water.  Mr.  Davis  remarks 
on  this  point,  t^at  where  bars  exist  in  such  estuaries  they  are 
generally  composed  of  sea-sand  brought  by  the  tide,  and  not 
of  fluviatile  deposits. 

In  connection  with  Mr.  Davis,  we  have  endeavoured  to  apply 
the  above  results  to  the  stud^  of  the  deposits  of  former  geo- 
lo^cal  epochs ;  and  we  think  it  is  easy  to  show  on  a  geological 
clmrt  of  the  United  States,  that  the  same  laws  which  now  reg- 
ulate the  deposition  of  sand-banks  have  been  in  operation  dur- 
ing the  diluvial,  tertiary,  and  cretaceous  epochs ;  the  deposits 
of  these  epochs  forming  so  manv  parallel  zones  successively 
following  tne  great  backbone  of  the  Alleghanies. 

The  diluvid  deposits,  in  Europe  as  well  as  in  America, 
merit  a  special  attention  in  this  respect.  No  doubt,  during 
the  diluvial  epochs,  the  plains  of  northern  Germany  as  well  as 
a  great  part  of  Scandinavia,  and,  on  tins  continent,  the  coast 
of  the  Xfnited  States  from  Florida  to  Canada,  formed  a  series 
of  banks  and  shoals,  like  the  Banks  of  Newfoundland  in  our 
day,  whilst  the  plains  of  the  West,  between  the  Alleghanies 
and  the  Rocky  Mountains,  formed  a  vast  bay,  comparable 

HO.  V.  6 


62  Poital  Eeform.  [Dec« 

to  the  Golf  of  Mexico,  in  which  the  sea  deposited  the  fine  sand 
and  clay  of  the  prairies,  as  it  now  deposits  in  the  Gulf  <^ 
Mexico  the  sand  and  mud  that  border  the  coast  of  Texas. 

The  results  of  the  above  researches  may  be  summed  up 
thus:  — 

1st.  The  form  and  distribution  of  banks,  and  of  alluyial 
formations  in  general,  are,  in  a  great  measure,  dependent  on 
tides.  They  ou^t  to  be  found  ever^here  where  the  tidal 
current  is  sufficientiy  abated  to  permit  the  materials  held  in 
suspension  to  be  deposited.  The  finer  and  lighter  materials 
must  tiierefore  be  deposited  in  the  cahner  places. 

2nd.  The  formation  of  submarine  banks  is  indispensable  to 
the  maintenance  of  animal  life,  since  they  constitute  the  most 
favorable  localities  for  marine  animals. 

3d.  The  formation  of  deltas,  at  the  mouths  of  rivers,  is  in 
an  inverse  ratio  to  the  force  of  the  tide. 

4th.  The  sedimentary  deposits  of  the  most  recent  geolo^- 
cal  epochs,  being,  in  all  respects,  like  the  alluvial  deposits  of 
our  aay,  we  must  hint  that  they  were  formed  under  uie  oper- 
ation of  the  same  laws. 

5th.  The  fcMrm  and  extent  of  contments,  so  far  as  they  are 
composed  of  sedimentary  deposits,  are  thus  dependent  on 
astronomical  laws,  that  is,  on  the  attraction  which  the  moon 
and  the  sun  exert,  and  in  all  time  have  exerted  on  the  hquid 
part  of  our  planet. 


Art.  VI.  —  Chea'p  Postage.  By  Joshita  LEAvrrr,  Corre- 
sponding Secretary  of  the  Cheap  Postage  Association, 
Boston.    1848. 

There  is  nothing  which  so  surely  makes  a  man  write  Mm- 
self  down  an  ass,  as  his  vanity.  It  is  just  so  with  nations ; 
and  the  American  people  are  often  led,  by  indulgence  in  this 
weakness,  to  make  themselves  egregious  asses  in  the  eyes  of 
intelligent  foreigners.  "  You  are  the  most  free  and  enligh^ 
ened  nation  upon  the  earth,"  say  the  politicians ;  and  the 
people  cry.  Amen !  and  straightway  go  and  vote  such  smooth- 
tongued orators  into  place  and  power. 

According  to  the  theory,  our  government,  being  composed 
of  representatives  of  the  people  taken  from  among  the  citizens 


1848.]  Poitdl  Reform.  88 

themselveSy  has  no  motive  to  do  any  thing,  or  to  support  any 
institution,  which  is  hostile  to  the  interests  of  the  people ;  bat, 
according  to  the  fact,  it  does  do  many  such  things.  Ainone 
these  is  the  imposition  of  a  most  unjust,  unnecessary,  and 
oppresMve  tax  vpon  knowledge  and  intercourse  among  menj 
which  is  levied  oy  means  of  an  odious  monopoly  of  the  busi- 
ness of  conveying  letters.  To  this  monopoly  our  "  enlightened 
people  "  submit,  and  even  think  their  "  postK)ffice  privilege  " 
IS  a  great  boon,  while  a  neighbouring  nation  has  for  years  been 
in  the  enjovment  of  a  system  compared  to  which  ours  is  like 
a  relic  of  me  dark  ages. 

Any  one  who  can  see  an  inch  into  futurity,  has  only  to 
exanune  our  present  system  of  postal  arrangements,  its  imper- 
fections and  abuses,  and  to  compare  it  wi^  one  that  is  per- 
fectiy  feasible,  in  order  to  feel  assured  that  in  a  few  years  men 
will  look  back  upon  it  with  that  complacent  contempt  with 
which  they  now  look  back  upon  the  moae  in  which  they  trav- 
elled before  the  days  of  steam-boats  and  rail-roads. 

To  say  nothing  of  a  journey  to  Washmgton  or  New  York, 
matters  of  such  grave  import  as  to  require  ^^  a  note  read  in 
meeting,''  asking  the  prayers  of  the  pious  for  safe  deliverance 
from  perils  by  sea  and  perils  by  land,  one  could  not  make  a 
journey  even  of  a  hundred  miles  without  painstaking  prepa- 
ration and  long-suffering  endurance. 

If  a  wise  man,  you  prepared  to  start  on  Monday,  so  as  to 
have  the  whole  week  for  "  lee  way."  You  went  on  Friday 
or  Saturday  to  the  ^^  stage-office,"  booked  yourself,  and  paid 
the  fare.  On  Sunday,  about  sunset,  you  might  see  some 
runner  from  the  office  speerine  about  the  neighbourhood,  to 
make  sure  of  the  place  and  number  of  your  dwelling,  in  order 
the  more  easily  to  find  it  in  the  gray  of  the  morning.  You 
made  a  compact  with  the  watchman  to  rap  on  your  window 
an  hour  before  the  time  of  starting ;  or,  you  haa  some  queer 
contrivance  to  awaken  yourself,  such  as  a  bunch  of  keys,  or 
old  iron,  suspended  by  a  string  passed  across  the  lower  part  of 
a  candle,  wluch,  in  four  or  five  hours,  would  bum  down  to  the 
mark,  set  fire  to  the  string,  let  fall  the  iron  into  a  wash-basin, 
and  so  make  racket  enough  to  arouse  you.  You  waked 
twenty  times  to  see  if  the  machinery  was  all  in  order,  and  at 
last  got  up  before  it  gave  the  signal.  You  roused  the  miud, 
who  bustled  about  to  make  ready  your  coffee,  ham,  and  eggs, 
while  you  shaved  vour  chin  and  packed  your  chest.  At  last 
you  heard  the  distant  horn;    then  the  sound  of  rumbling 


84  Postal  lUform.  [Bee. 

wheels,  —  of  clattering  hooft ; — the  "  stage  "  is  at  the  door. 
You  rash  resolutely  to  the  **  entnr,"  and  put  on  and  button 
up  your  overcoat  with  desperate  naste  ;  you  don  your  travel- 
ling cap,  and  throw  a  heavy  cloak  over  your  shoulders,  while 
two  men  lift  your  heavy  tnink,  and  strain  and  pull  at  great 
straps,  to  bind  it  on  behind  the  coach ;  which  done,  they  cry 
**all  ri^t;"  and  you  kiss  your  mother,  wife,  or  sister,  who 
stands  shivering  on  the  doorway,  holding  a  dressing-gown  to- 
gether with  one  hand,  while  the  other,  rsused  above  her  head, 
supports  the  candle  whose  flickering  light  guides  you  down  the 
steps,  and  serves  to  tell  the  wondering  neighbours,  with  night- 
capped  heads  popped  out  of  the  windows,  who  is  going  away. 
You  take  the  "  baik  seat,"  if  you  are  old  or  feeble ;  3ie  mid- 
dle one  by  the  window,  if  you  are  hearty ;  or  mount  the  box, 
beside  the  jolly  driver,  if  you  are  young  and  vi^rous,  and 
want  to  see  the  countrr.  Crack  goes  the  whip!  and  away 
you  post,  to  pick  up  other  passengers,  and  so  pass  an  hour 
preparing  for  the  final  start.  At  last  you  are  feiirly  off;  and 
the  horses  go  jog-trotting  along  the  plain,  walking  up  the  hills, 
galloping  down  the  slopes,  until  you  come  to  the  *^  chanong 
place."  You  then  get  out,  and  warm  your  toes  by  the  bar- 
room fire,  while  the  panting  horses  are  taking  off,  and  fresh 
ones  are  put  on ;  you  treat  your  driver  to  a  "  horn,"  (not 
of  tin,)  wnich  drunk,  he  lights  his  cigar,  and,  crjring  ^*  all 
aboard,"  heaves  his  heavy  carcass  up  into  his  box,  picks 
up  the  Unes,  and  away  you  start  again.  Thus  toiling  on, 
through  all  the  tedious  hours  of  the  forenoon,  stopping  to 
water  the  horses  or  to  change  them  five  or  six  times,  you 
arrive  at  the  **  half-way  house,"  hungry  as  a  hunter,  and 
happy  that  a  quarter  of  your  journey  is  done.  After  a  hearty 
dinner,  you  mount  again  and  try  to  sleep  away  an  hour  or  so, 
while  the  rumbling  carriage  goes  slowly  on,  with  the  o(x$a8ional 
variety  of  a  "break-down"  or  an  "overset,"  until,  long  after 
dark,  you  arrive  at  the  stopping-place  for  the  night ;  and, 
heated,  tired,  jaded  out,  you  lie  down,  perchance  in  damp 
sheets,  with  the  poor  satisfaction  that  you  have  got  over  nearly 
fifty  miles,  and  have  only  fifty  more  before  you. 

fettt  now,  you  make  the  same  journey  by  going  quietly 
to  the  "  station,"  after  breakfast,  with  no  other  impedimenta 
than  your  sack-coat  and  the  last  new  novel ;  you  take  your 
seat  by  the  wmdow  ;  you  finish  the  distance  as  you  finish  the 
first  volume ;  you  do  your  buaness,  return  home  before  night, 
and,  if  your  wife  asks  you  where  you  "  dined  to-day,"  you 


1848.]  Po$tal  Brfarm.  85 

(nueUj  answer,  m  Porttaad,  or  in  Springfield,  or  anywhere 
dse  a  hundred  miles  oS^  as  tiie  case  may  he. 

Now,  as  the  difference  between  the  first  joomey,  slowly, 
painfully,  and  perilously  performed,  and  the  second,  swiftly, 
easily,  and  siuely  done,  so  is  the  difference  between  our 
present  postal  arrangements  and  those  which  may  be  had  for 
the  asking,  if  the  people  will  only  ask  loudly  and  resobtely 
enough. 

But  in  order  to  make  a  resolute  and  successful  demand  for 
any  tlung,  men  must  be  satisfied,  first,  that  it  is  a  desirable 
and  reasonable  and  feasible  thing,  and,  second,  that  they  have 
a  right  to  demand  it.  It  is  desiiable  and  reasonable  that  there 
should  be  the  freest  possible  circulation  of  light  and  knowt 
ed^,  and  that  d^e  government  should  fetch  ai^l  carry  letters 
and  newspapers  for  ^e  people,  tnthout  any  other  tax  thanjuU 
90  much  08  will  prevent  abuse  qf  the  yrwUege.  Under  this 
principle  we  ^ould  have  a  uniform  postage  of  one  cent  on 
each  letter  or  paper,  whether  carried  one  mile  or  one  thousand 
miles ;  we  should  have,  moreover,  in  all  thickly  settled  places, 
the  letters  we  write  and  those  we  receive  taken  from  and 
brought  to  our  doors,  without  any  other  charge  than  the  aingle 
cent  posta^. 

The  various  associations  and  petitioners  for  cheap  postage, 
and  even  the  author  of  the  able  pamphlet  at  the  head  of  this 
article,  do  not  go  as  fieur  as  this ;  the  v  ask  merely  for  a  uniform 
postage  of  two  eente ;  they  do  this,  however,  because  they  are 
tinld  to  take  the  buU  by  the  horns ;  they  think  that  men  would 
start  too  much  at  the  thought  of  a  cent  postage ;  and  that  Con- 
gress would  refuse  that,  u  asked  for  openly,  but  might  grant 
a  two-cent  postage  atfinty  and  yield  the  other  afterwards.  If 
this  timid  policy  is  followed,  the  whole  work  will  have  to  be 
done  over  agsdn ;  for  there  are  men  who  will  never  rest  until 
the  people  have  their  right  in  this  matter,  and  that  right  is 
clearly  tiiat  postage  should  be  fixed  at  the  lowest  sum  that  will 
prevent  an  abuse  of  the  privilege,  which  is  one  centj  and  no 
more. 

Ccmgress,  forsooth !  the  congregated  wisdom  of  the  country, 
as  it  is  called,  but  which  is  ratiier  a  congregation  of  cunning, 
cowardly,  time-servmc  availablee;  a  congregation  in  which  not 
five  men  can  be  found  whose  morality  is  up  to  a  level  of  that 
of  the  old  heathen  who  said  let  the  right  oe  done  though  the 
roof  fall  and  crush  us.  Congress,  indeed,  will  not  allow  us 
the  lowest  posnble  rate  of  po^ige !  that  is,  a  congregation  of 


86  PoBtal  Befarm.  [Deo. 

the  veiy  men,  who,  mostly  for  selfish  and  personal  purposes,  bj 
a  gross  abuse  of  the  franking  privilege,  do  themselves  keep  up 
this  tax  on  the  circulation  of  letters  among  the  people !  they — 
a  collection  of  some  fifteen  score  of  succe^ul  and  well-paid  of- 
fice seekers,  who,  bj  a  shameless  abuse  of  a  sacred  trust,  weigh 
down  the  miuls  of  the  country  with  a  heavier  load,  jes,  many 
fold  heavier  than  all  the  letters  written  by  all  the  men,  wo- 
men, and  children  in  the  land,  in  all  the  days  of  the  year,  will 
refuse  to  lower  the  postage ! 

We  allude  not  to  members  who  send  home  by  mail  their  shirt- 
coUars,  false  fronts,  and  such  matters,  for  their  wives  to  wash 
and  mend,  or  fine  shoes  for  them  to  wear — it  is  only  snobs 
who  do  such  things ;  but  we  allude  to  the  franking  of  speech- 
es, newspapers,  documents,  and  even  books.  Let  those  who 
are  not  familiar  with  the  extent  of  this  business  read  the  follow- 
ing firom  good  authority;  in  1844,  Congress  printed  fifty-five 
thousand  copies  of  the  Report  of  the  Commissioner  of  Patents, 
at  a  cost  of  $114,000. 

^This  Report  is  a  huge  document,  printed  in  large  type, 
with  a  large  margin,  containing  very  little  matter  of  the  least  im- 
portance, and  that  little  so  buried  in  the  rubbish,  as  to  be  worth 
about  as  much  as  so  many  ''  needles  in  a  hay-mow."  Then  tins 
huge  quantity  of  trash,  created  at  this  large  expense,  is  to  be 
/ranked  for  ail  parts  of  the  country,  by  way  of  currying  /avor 
and  getting  votes  next  time,  lumbering  the  mails,  and  creating 
another  large  expense.  We  have  taken  the  trouble  to  weigh  the 
copy  of  this  document  which  was  forwarded  to  us,  and  find  its 
ponderosity  to  be  2  lbs.,  14  oz.,  or,  with  the  wrapper,  about  three 
pounds  !  The  aggregate  weight  of  the  55,000  copies,  is  therefore 
BiGHTT-TWO  AND  A  HALF  TONS !  Eighty-two  and  a  half  tons 
of  paper  spoiled;  and  the  nation  taxed  $114,000  for  spoiling  it; 
and  then  compelled  to  lug  it  to  all  parts  of  the  Union  through  the 
monopoly  post-office  and  the  franking  privilege  I  Poor  patient 
people! 

^*  Such  taxes,  to  be  defrayed  by  high  postage  on  letters  and 
newspapers,  grow  out  of  i)mfrarJcing  privilege ;  and  the  power 
which  Congress  reserve  to  themselves,  of  distributing  free  as 
many  documents  as  they  choose  to  print  at  the  public  expense  I 
These  documents,  it  seems,  are  the  grand  means  resorted  to  by 
many  members,  of  ^  currying  favor*  with  the  influential,  and  thus 
*  getting  votes  next  time  /'" 

Let  us  put  this  in  a  simpler  form.  It  is  found  that  10,000 
ordinary  letters  weigh  156  lbs.,  or  about  one  fourth  of  an 
ounce  to  a  letter.    Now,  each  one  of  the  documents  above 


1848.]  Po9tal  B^brm.  8T 

named  wei^  as  much  as  198  letters,  or,  for  conyenience,  say 
200 ;  and  the  whole  55,000  weigh  about  as  much  as  11,000,- 
000  letters.  Bat,  the  whole  number  of  letters  carried  m  1848 
was  only  24,000,000,  so  that  the  circnlation  of  this  docnment 
alone  cost  nearly  half  as  much  as  the  circulation  of  all  the 
letters  of  the  country. 

Let  us  make  all  due  allowance  for  exaggeration ;  let  us  sup- 
pose that  the  whole  number  of  that  particular  document  was 
not  mailed ;  let  us  suppose  any  thing,  still  there  are  scores  of 
such  documents  every  session  of  Congress ;  and  then  there  are 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  copies  of  members'  speeches  firanked 
and  sent  off  by  the  groaning  mails  to  ubiquitous  Buncombe^  so 
that  any  way  we  can  view  it,  the  members  of  Congress  do  ac- 
tuaUy  midl  and  frank  much  more  matter,  and  that  mostiy  for 
electioneering  purposes,  than  the  weidit  of  all  the  letters  of 
all  the  twenty  millions  of  people  in  me  country !  And  yet 
we  must  wait  for  them  to  remove  the  tax  from  our  letters ! 
No !  no,  there  is  but  one  way  for  this  thing  to  be  done,  and 
that  is  for  the  people  to  go  up  and  demand  that  it  be  done, 
even  at  the  cost  of  the  franking  power,  which  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  a  relic  of  feudal  ana  ariustocratic  privileges.  We 
gol>ack,  then,  to  what  we  sidd :  it  is  for  the  people  to  satisfy 
themselves  tiiat  it  is  right  and  proper  that  no  other  tax  should 
be  put  upon  the  free  circulation  of  letters,  than  just  enough 
to  prevent  abuse  of  the  miul  privilege.  We  need  spend  no 
time  to  show  that  a  cent  postage  will  prevent  any  such  abuse, 
especially  if  letters  are  required  to  be  prepiud.  Some  may 
object,  mdeed,  (as  they  did  at  first  in  England,)  that  all  the 
boys  and  ^Is,  and  idl  the  men-servants  and  midd-servants 
would  go  to  scribbling  nonsense,  and  sending  it  off  by  mail ; 
we  can  only  say,  the  more  the  better ;  the^  will  scribble  non- 
sense until  the  practice  teaches  them  to  wnte  good  sense ;  and 
it  will  be  cheap  schooling. 

As  to  the  desirability  of  the  thing,  can  any  man,  who  has 
any  human  relations,  who  has  parents,  children,  sister,  brother, 
lover,  or  friend,  —  any  one  who  has  any  business  with  other 
men,  can  he  doubt  a  moment  the  benefits  of  free  and  rapd  com- 
munication by  mail  ?  Can  any  man,  who  loves  his  race,  doubt 
a  moment  that  an  immense  spring  would  be  given  to  human 
progress  by  coming  down  at  once  to  a  cent  postage  ?  I  hear 
you,  Dives,  who  know  not  the  difference  between  a  cent  and  a 
dime,  reply,  that  if  any  one  has  any  thinffwortii  writing  about, 
he  can  pay  five  or  ten  cents  for  it!    But,  go  to!  contract 


88  Po9M  Bef&rm.  [Dec. 


la 


tbkt  swelling  pride,  and  get  throng  the  needle's  eye  as  well  as 
iroti  can !  Look  at  that  youth  or  maiden  earnmg  out  two  dol- 
ars  a  week,  whose  parents  are  in  &e  fistr  West,  whose  brother, 
sister,  or  lover  is  away  in  another  direction,  and  who  would 
fain  hear  from  and  write  to  the  dear  ones  every  day ;  and,  say, 
shall  he  or  she  pay  ten  cents,  a  third  or  a  quarter  of  the  daily 
eamings — >the  sole  income,  for  a  single  draught  to  slake  the 
soul's  thirst  for  sympathy  and  love  —  a  single  token  of  well- 
being  —  a  simple  ^^  God  bless  you  my  son,  my  daughter,  or  my 
lover?" 

Oh  Dives !  Dives !  thou  hast  thy  good  things  in  abundance ; 
thou  goest  home  at  night  from  thv  storehouse  to  thjr  dwelling, 
where  riches,  tastefully  expended,  surround  thee  with  refined 
eleeance,  with  statuary  and  paintmg ;  thou  hast  music,  and 
books,  and  friends,  and  whatever  thy  heart  desireth  r  thou  hast, 
too,  kindness  and  ffenerosity  in  that  heart,  if  it  can  be  awak- 
ened ;  oh !  beerudge  not  to  the  toiling  ones  the  only  luxury 
they  have,— ue  luxury  of  the  aSbctions. 

Many  things  serve  in  thb  our  country  and  generation  to 
weaken  and  to  sever  the  ties  of  fieimily  love.  Children  are 
hardly  grown,  before  they  are  tempted  abroad  to  try  their 
fortunes  in  a  thousand  ways;  the  parents  grow  gray  in  a 
lonely  homestead,  and  pme  for  timngs  of  their  scattered 
brood ;  the  once  tender  actions  of  brother  and  Mster  become 
weaker  and  weaker  by  long  separation ;  and  the  friendships 
of  youth,  and  the  attachments  of  neighbourhood,  are  gradually 
lost  in  absence  and  in  forgetfolness. 

This  ought  not  so  to  be.  The  most  binding  union  among 
men  is  the  union  of  ilie  family ;  its  constitution  was  given  by 
God  himself;  and  its  laws  are  those  of  affection.  Next  comes 
the  bond  of  friendship,  the  most  endunng  cords  of  which  are 
those  which  are  twined  about  the  heart  in  the  tender  season 
of  youth.  Without  those  two  binding  forces  society  is  but 
a  crowd  of  independent  individuals,  whose  distinguishing  fea- 
ture is  selfishness.  Look  at  the  hunters  and  trappers  of  the 
West ;  look  at  the  floatmg  populaticm  of  Paris ;  the  unmarried, 
utiUmng  meuy  who  have  snapped  all  the  ties  of  family  and  of 
friendsUp,  and  gathered  together  in  that  great  centre  of  civ- 
ilisation, to  pre;^  upon  each  other  and  upon  the  race ;  men 
whose  element  is  discord,  whose  reli^on  is  atheism,  whose 
creed  is  passion,  whose  law  is  license,  whose  bemg's  end  and 
aim  is  self,  self,  and  ever  self  ;*— men  who  make  not  the  revo- 
lutions, but  (Hily  profit  by  them ;  men  who  cry  Liberty !  only 


1848.]  Pa#ta{J2e/im.  8ft 

liiat  they  maj  commit  erimes  in  her  name  ; — men  who  harry 
on  the  premature  birth  of  Freedom,  and  by  force  and  violence 
make  abortions  of  what  would  be  the  fairest  ofipring  of  human 
progress !  The  tendency  of  owr  commercial  and  pditical  insti- 
tutions is  to  create  men  like  these ;  and  if  ther^  were  not  a 
thousand  enterprises  to  scatter  them  over  a  vast  continent ;  if 
there  were  any  great  centre,  like  Paris  or  LondiMi,  we  shcnild 
see  with  what  recklessness  tiiey  would  trample  on  every  law 
that  restndned  license. 

To  lessen  this  centrifugal  force ;  to  weaken  thb  tendency 
to  separation  and  selfishness ;  to  check,  indeed,  any  bad  ten* 
dency,  the  most  powerful  means  is  instruction ;  and  Uxou^  our 
centrsJ  government  cannot  give  much  of  this  directiy,  it  may 
do  much  to  encourage  reading  and  writing  among  tM people; 
it  may  do  much  to  keep  bright  the  chain  of  affection  between 
the  scattered  fSunilies  and  parted  companions,  and  keep  them 
united  by  love,  though  divided  by  distance. 

The  moral  effect  of  free  and  firequent  communication  by 
nudl  can  hardly  be  conceived  by  those  who  have  not  thought 
closely  upon  it.  The  government  cannot  indeed  *^  annihilate 
both  time  and  space  '^  and  make  all  lovers  happy,  but  it  can  do 
much  towards  it.  Suppose  the  telegraph  to  be  perfected; 
suppose  its  network  to  be  spread  over  tiie  whole  land,  and  its 
filaments  running  into  every  house,  would  they  not  become  like 
the  stretohed  but  unbroken  heart^tringB  of  a  million  families ; 
should  we  not  have,  besides  speculations  in  stocks  and  orders 
for  goods,  a  constant  stream  of  messages  of  love  and  friendship  ? 
would  there  not  be,  ever  flying  across  the  sky,  such  warm 
greetmgs  as  ^^  how  d'  ye  my  motiier  7  how  fSures  my  fieither,  my 
sister,  my  friends  ?"  and  the  tender  replies,  ^^  it  is  well  witii  me 
my  child !  my  son,  my  daughter,  my  lover,'' — until  the  whole 
atmosi^ere  would  become  so  fiill  of  love  and  affection  that 
the  ai^els  of  God  might  delight  to  dwell  therein  7  This  will 
be  called  fisincy,  to^ay,  by  the  profiuie  ones  who  doubt  about 
progress;  but,  never  mmd!  God  will  make  it  a  fiftct  tomorrow; 
meantime,  sometlung  like  this  is  within  our  reach,  even  now. 
Let  the  greatest  attidnable  perfection  be  j^ven  to  the  present 
m^l  system ;  let  postage  be  reduced  to  a  ^gle  cent ;  kt  the 
gathering  up  and  distributing  of  letters  in  populous  places  be 
free,  so  that  by  the  side  of  the  street  door  of  the  awellings 
there  may  be  a  box  open  to  the  inmde  of  the  house,  but  dosM 
on  the  outside  by  a  lock,  to  which  the  postman  has  the  key, 
and  from  which  he  may  take  all  letters  for  the  post,  and  drop 


90  Po9tdl  Erfarm.  [Dec. 

in  it  all  directed  to  the  household.  By  this  arrangement,  and 
by  the  simple  use  of  stamped  envelopes  j  families  could  receive 
and  forwaid  their  letters  without  sending  to  the  po8tK)ffice,  and 
without  any  trouble  whatever.  Is  this  visionary?  Not  at 
all !  for  no  further  off  than  London,  this  very  thing  is  done  in 
many  houses,  and  the  families  receive  and  send  off  their  let- 
ters with  the  utmost  certainty  and  regularity,  and  without 
sending  to  the  general  post-office  from  the  be^nning  of  the 
year  to  the  end.* 

The  use  of  stamped  envelopes  is  not  known  here.  They  are 
envelopes  for  letters,  which  are  stamped,  or  franked,  at  the 
po6tK)ffice.  You  buy  these  by  the  hundred  or  the  thousand, 
at  any  bookseller's  or  even  grocer's,  paying  a  penny  for  the 
stamp,  and  a  trifle  for  the  paper ;  you  put  your  letter  into  one 
of  them,  seal  it,  direct  it  to  any  part  of  the  kingdom,  far  or 
near,  drop  it  into  the  nearest  post-box,  at  your  own  door,  if 
you  have  one  ;  and  the  postman,  at  his  next  round,  carries  It 
to  the  posioffice,  and  it  goes  free  to  its  destination,  and  is 
delivered  at  your  friend's  door. 

To  such  system  is  tiiis  reduced,  and  such  labor-saving  is 
made,  that  merchants  who  write  very  frequently  to  a  partic- 
ular correspondent,  have  a  package  of  stamped  envelopes 
printed  with  his  address,  say,  "To  John  Thrifty,  No.  48 
Queen  Street,  Aberdeen,  Scotland."  The  labor  of  writing 
the  address  is  thus  saved,  and  the  savmg  is  something.  Sup- 
pose tiiere  are  ten  letters  daily  to  regular  correspondents,  the 
time  saved  on  the  whole  of  them  would  be  over  fifty  hours, 
equal  to  one  week's  work. 

Despise  not  a  crumb,  or  a  cent,  or  a  minute :  a  crumb  will 
feed  a  starving  bird ;  a  cent  may  gladden  a  hungry  beggar ;  a 
minute  is  one  of  the  golden  sands  of  life's  hour-gUi^ ; — every 
one  of  them  is  the  gift  of  God ;  for  every  one  of  them  He 
will  ask  an  account. 

We  need  not  spend  time  to  show  the  social  and  moral  and 
intellectual  advantages  that  would  flow  from  the  establishment 
of  a  postK)ffice  upon  such  a  system.  Every  busmess  man  will 
see  tiie  advantages  of  it  in  a  business  point  of  view.  But 
there  would  be  mgher,  far  higher,  advantages  than  these  :  it 
would  hold  out  the  strongest  motive  for  those  who  cannot  read 

*  It  is  not  yet  common  to  have  boxes  so  arranffod  that  the  postman  can 
take  the  letters  oat ;  bat  it  is  rery  easy  to  hare  them.  They  can  be  so  con- 
trived that  he  can  tell  as  he  passes  alone  the  street  whether  they  contain  any 
thing  for  him  or  not    With  each  letter  is  his  penny  fee. 


1848.]  Postal  Reform.  91 

and  write  to  learn  to  do  so ;  it  would  prevent  thousands  from 
kdng,  as  thej  now  do  bj  long  disuse,  the  faculty  of  writing 
and  reading ;  it  would  make  those  who  now  write  ten  letters 
a  year,  write  a  hundred ;  it  would  save  man^  a  youth  and 
muden  from  the  temptation  which  idle  evemng  hours  now 
bring;  it  would  keep  alive  affections  and  friendships  which 
now  die  out  in  distance  ;  it  would,  in  short,  be  a  new  bond  of 
union,  binding  the  people  together  in  knowledge,  and  sym- 
pathy, and  love. 

Au  this  would  be  very  fine,  says  the  politician,  with  a  sneer, 
but  government  has  no  right  to  do  it.  No  right,  —  why  not  ? 
Because  the  postroffice  department  must  pay  its  own  expenses ! 
MiMt  ? — but  why  ?  Why  more  than  the  army-department  — 
than  the  navy  ?  Why  not  make  the  soldiers  work  ;  why  not 
make  the  frigates  carry  freight  ?  Is  labor,  is  commerce,  dis^ 
honorable  ? 

This  common  political  dogma,  that  the  post-office  must 
support  itself,  which  is  in  every  wiseacre's  mouth,  is  sheer 
assumption ;  is  nonsense,  and  worse  than  nonsense  ;  it  is  nar- 
row and  illiberal.  There  is  not  one  word  in  the  Constitution 
to  warrant  it. 

Strange  with  what  stupid  tenacity  conservatism  makes  men 
cleave  to  things  and  thoughts  merely  because  they  are  old. 
This  one  in  question  is  only  a  relic  of  feudal  days  ;  a  laying 
on  of  black  maU.  Politicians  have  asmmedy  without  the 
shadow  of  a  foundation,  that  the  government  has  a  right  to 
lay  whatever  tax  it  chooses  upon  the  carriage  of  letters,  and 
tliat  nobody  has  a  right  to  compete  with  it  in  the  business ! 

See  how  conservatism,  the  ghost  of  feudalism,  ^bbers  at 
those  smugglers,  the  people,  who  insist  upon  the  right  of  doing 
their  own  business,  and  how  it  widls  the  loss  of  its  pm[uisite8« 
Congress-men  complain  that  the  ^^  bufflness  [that  is,  of  people's 
competing  with  the  government  mail  by  private  expresses]  has 
been  some  time  struggling  through  its  incipient  stages ; "  — 
that  ^^  it  has  now  assumed  a  bold  and  determined  front,  and 
dropped  its  disguises."  ..."  Thus  3,268,000  letters  a 
year,  and  (543,840  of  annual  revenue,  are  the  spoils  taken 
from  the  mails  by  private  cupidity .'"  •  The  House  Committee 
of  1845  siud  there  is  "  no  just  reason  why  individuals  engaged 
in  smuggling  letters  and  robbing  t]>e  department  of  its  le^t- 
imate  revenues  should  not  be  punished  in  the  same  way  and 

•  Beportof  House  Committee,  Maj  15th,  1844. 


92  Po9tal  Brf&rm.  pec. 

to  the  same  extent  as  persons  guilty  of  smuggling  goods ;  nor 
why  the  same  means  of  detection  should  not  be  ^ven  to  the 
p06tK)fiSce  department  which  are  now  giyen  to  the  treasuir." 

The  SPOILS  taken  by  private  oupibitt  !  that  is  the  U^ht 
in  which  conservatism  viewed  the  fact  that  people  earned 
their  own  letters,  because  they  could  carry  them  quicker  and 
cheaper  than  the  government  could  or  would  do !  It  coolly 
proposes  to  search  their  persons,  and  to  punish  them  as  smug* 
glers! 

It  is  probable  that  the  fear  of  the  total  loss  of  these  9p(nl$ 
did  more  than  an^  thing  else  to  favor  the  reduction  of  postage 
in  1845.  So  it  is  always  with  poor  old  Conservatism ;  she 
grud^gly  gives  up  part,  only  because  she  fears  to  lose  the 
whole. 

But  the  matter  of  the  right  of  the  people  to  demand  cheap 

K stage,  is  better  set  fortib  by  the  author  of  the  pamphlet 
fore  us  than  we  can  do  it.    He  says,  pp.  28,  24, 

'^The  constitutional  rule  for  the  establishment  of  the  poet- 
office,  is  as  follows : 

"  *  Congress  shall  have  power  to — 
^  ^  EstfS>li8h  post-offices  and  post-roads.* 

^This  clause  declares  plainly  the  will  of  the  people  of  the 
United  States,  that  the  federal  government  should  be  charged 
with  the  responsibili^  of  fiimishing  the  whole  union  with  conven- 
ient and  proper  mail  privileges  —  according  to  theur  reasonable 
wants  and  the  reasonable  ability  of  the  government.  This  is  one 
point  of  the  '  general  welfare,'  for  which  we  are  to  look  to  Con- 
eress,  just  as  we  look  to  Congress  to  provide  for  the  general 
defence  by  means  of  the  army  and  navy.  It  imposes  no  other 
restrictions  in  the  one  case  than  the  other,  as  to  the  extent  to 
which  provision  shall  be  made — the  reasonable  wants  of  the 
people,  and  the  reasonable  ability  of  the  government  It  limits 
the  resources  for  this  object  to  no  particular  branch  of  the 
revenue.  It  gives  no  sort  of  sanction  to  the  so  oft-repeated  rule, 
which  many  suppose  to  be  a  part  of  the  Constitution,  that  the 
post-office  must  support  itself.  Still  less  does  it  authorize  Con- 
gress to  throw  all  manner  of  burdens  upon  the  mail,  and  then 
refhse  to  increase  its  usefulness  as  a  pubUc  convenience,  because 
it  cannot  carry  all  those  loads.  The  people  must  have  mails,  and 
Congress  must  furnish  them.  To  reason  for  or  against  any  pro- 
posed change,  on  the  ground  that  the  alternative  may  be  the 
discontinuance  of  public  mails,  the  privation  of  this  privilege  to 
the  people,  and  the  winding  up  of  the  post-office  system,  is  deariy 
inadmissible.    When  the  government  ceases  to  give  the  people 


1848.]  Postal  B^arm.  98 

the  privfleges  of  the  mail,  the  government  itself  will  soon  wind 
np,  or»  rather,  will  be  taken  in  hand  and  wound  up  bj  the  people;, 
and  set  a-going  again  on  better  principles.  The  sole  inquiry  for 
Congress  is,  what  is  the  best  way  to  meet  the  reasonable  wants  of 
the  people,  by  means  within  the  reasonable  ability  of  the  goT- 
emment?** 

The  reasonable  wants  of  the  people  are,  means  of  frequent 
and  rapid  intercourse  by  mail  at  the  lowest  cost  that  mil  pro- 
vent  aouse^  and  that  is,  as  we  said,  the  lowest  coin  in  use,  or 
one  cent ;  and  it  is  witMn  the  reasonable  ability  of  the  govern- 
ment to  provide  this,  even  if  it  has  to  ^ve  np  a  few  fiigateSi 
or  a  few  reg^nent8 ;  even  if  it  has  to  make  its  half-pay  ofiScera 
work  aspost-masters,  and  its  lazy  soldiers  trot  about  with  mait 
ba£S.  The  employment  would  be  better  than  their  present  one, 
which  is  merely  to  keep  their  long  knives  sharp,  and  be  ready 
to  slay  at  thenr  employers'  bidcUng,  as  the  village  butchers 
keep  their  knives  ground  and  ready  at  any  one's  call ;  with 
this  difference,  that  the  butchers  slay  only  swine  and  cattle, 
while  the  soldiers  will  slay  nothing  meaner  than  men  and 
Christians. 

Without  going  much  into  the  details  of  the  proposed  post- 
office  reform,  we  shall  allude  to  two  prominent  features  of  it 
which  seem  the  most  objectionable  to  those  not  familiar  with 
it.  The  first  is  the  uniform  rate  of  postage  for  all  distances ; 
the  second,  the  delivery  at  dwelling  nouses. 

"  What ! "  says  Mr.  Holdfast,  "  charge  no  more  to  carry  a 
letter  from  Maine  to  Louisiana  than  from  one  village  to  the 
next  one  ?    The  thing  is  absurd  I  it  is  wrong ! " 

Let  us  look  at  it.  The  post-office  system  is  a  unit.  The 
mail  must  ^  from  Midne  to  Louisiana ;  the  great  expense  is 
in  establishmg  the  route  and  carrying  the  bag ;  and  there  is 
no  appreciable  difference  between  £e  cost  of  carrying  one 
letter,  and  carrving  one  thousand  lettersy  for  one  thousand 
letters  weigh  only  fifteen  pounds. 

^  ^.It  is  not  matter  of  inference,'  says  Mr.  Eowland  Hill,  ^but 
matter  of  fact,  that  the  expense  of  the  post-office  is  practically 
the  same,  whether  a  letter  is  going  from  London  to  Bamet,  (11 
miles,)  or  from  London  to  Edinburgh,  (397  miles) ;  the  difference 
is  not  expressible  in  the  smallest  coin  we  have.'  The  cost  of 
transit  from  London  to  Edinburgh  he  explained  to  be  only  one 
thirty-sixth  of  a  penny.  And  the  average  cost,  per  letter,  of 
transportation  in  all  the  mails  of  the  kingdom,  did  not  differ 
materially  from  this.     Of  course,  it  was  impossible  to  vary  the 


94  Postal  Reform.  pec. 

rates  of  postage  accordiog  to  distance,  when  the  longest  distance 
was  but  a  little  oyer  one  tenth  of  a  farthinff.  The  same  reason* 
ing  is  obyiouslj  applicable  to  all  the  productive  routes  in  the 
United  States." 

Mr.  Leayitt  fhos  presents  the  matter  very  forcibly.  He 
Bays, 

^The  goTemment  establishes  a  mail  between  two  cities,  say 
Boston  and  New  York,  which  is  supported  by  the  avails  of  post- 
age on  letters.  Then  it  proceeds  to  establish  a  mail  between 
New  York  and  Philadelphia,  which  is  supported  by  the  postage 
between  those  places.  Now,  how  much  will  it  cost  the  govern* 
ment  to  carry  in  addition  all  the  letters  that  eo  from  Boston  to 
Philadelphia,  and  from  Philadelphia  to  Boston  ?  Nothing.  The 
contracts  will  not  vary  a  dollar.  In  this  manner,  you  may  extend 
your  mails  from  any  point,  wherever  you  find  a  route  that  will  sup- 
port itself,  until  you  reach  New  Orleans  or  Little  Rock,  and  it  is 
as  plain  as  the  multiplication  table,  that  it  will  cost  the  government 
no  more  to  take  an  individual  letter  from  Boston  to  Little  Rock, 
than  it  would  to  take  the  same  letter  from  Boston  to  New  York. 
The  government  is  quite  indifferent  to  what  place  you  mail  your 
letter,  provided  it  be  to  a  place  which  has  a  mail  regularly  run* 
ning  to  it" 

"But,"  says  old  Holdfest,  "^ou  must  make  your  productive 
routes  pay  for  the  unproductive  ones."  Thus  out  of  false 
premises  flow  vicious  consequences.  This  fundamental  error 
of  supposing  the  post-ofiSce  must  support  itself  is  the  root  of 
an  the  miscmef.  Speaking  of  the  expensive  routes  over  the 
new  states,  Mr.  Leavitt  says  well, 

^The  honor  and  interest  of  the  nation  required  that  as  soon  as 
the  title  to  the  country  was  settled,  our  citizens  who  were  resi- 
dent there,  and  those  who  shall  go  to  settle  there,  should  enjoy 
the  benefits  of  the  mail.  And  as  it  was  the  nation's  business  to 
establish  the  mail,  it  was  equally  the  nation's  business  to  pay  the 
expense.  No  man  can  show  how  it  is  just  or  reasonable,  that  the 
letters  passing  between  Boston  and  New  York  should  be  taxed 
150  per  cent  to  pay  the  expense  of  a  mail  to  Oregon,  on  the  pre- 
text that  the  post-office  must  support  itself. 

Once  get  rid  of  the  fsdse  notions  actually  existing  about  the 
post-office  being  necessarily  a  self-supporting  system,  and  view 
it  as  a  great  social  macnine,  intenaed  to  weave  a  web  of 
friendly  and  commercial  intercourse  between  all  parts  of  the 
country,  and  to  promote  purposes  and  ends  the  value  of  which 
cannot  be  measured  by  any  money  scale,  and  people  will  cease 


1848.]  Poital  B^arm.  W 

to  sajy  My  broi^ier  in  New  Orleans  shaU  paj  more  for  a  mes- 
sage,  because  be  has  the  disadvantage  of  hving  further  &om 
the  centre  of  the  social  circle  than  I  do. 

As  we  remarked)  the  most  potent  enemy  to  this  improve- 
ment will  be  the  fear  of  its  cost ;  one  of  the  vicious  brood 
of  that  mother  of  false  notions  —  the  idea  that  the  Postoffice 
must  support  itself.  Even  this,  however,  will  disappear  or  be 
dwarfed  mto  insignificance,  if  closely  examined.  What  are 
the  causes  of  the  great  cost  of  the  present  mode  of  distribu- 
tion of  letters  in  Boston  and  other  large  cities  ?  A  spacious 
and  very  expensive  building  in  the  heart  of  the  city ;  the  fat 
perquisites  of  a  chief,  whose  nmn  business  it  is  to  see  that  no 
body  else  ^ets  his  office ;  a  cashier,  a  head  clerk,  and  several 
oUier  clerks,  men  who  can  command  high  salaries;  and 
younger  clerks,  whose  business  it  is  to  sit  and  widt  for  all  the 
people  to  come  to  them  and  ask  them,  through  a  hole  in  the 
wall,  if  there  be  any  letters,  instead  of  carrying  the  letters  to 
the  thousand  who  have  any,  and  letting  the  other  ninety-nine 
thousand  stay  at  home  and  mind  their  business.  As  for  the 
real  work  of  the  office,  it  is  done  by  simple,  honest,  laboring 
men,  the  wages  paid  to  a  dozen  of  whom  are  not  equal  to  the 
salaries  of  one  high  non-laboring  officer.  Now  it  is  evident 
that  under  a  reformed  method,  by  which  the  credit  system 
should  be  abolished,  the  occupation  of  most  of  those  gentie- 
men  would  be  gone ;  their  ledgers,  their  journals,  their  blot* 
ters,  their  way-bills,  and  most  of  their  trumpery  accounts 
would  be  done  away  with ;  they  would  wipe  their  pens,  and 
pack  off  to  spoil  paper  elsewhere ;  and  the  humble  laborers, 
who  now  work  for  a  dollar  a  day,  would  take  up  the  ten  thou- 
sand letters  which  the  clerks  had  been  writing  about,  and  run 
and  deliver  them  quickly,  and  make  an  end  of  them. 

The  folly  and  litUeness  of  what  should  be  called  the  hum- 
bug of  the  day,  if  the  infinite  mischief  it  works  did  not  de- 
mand for  it  a  graver  name,  —  the  credit  system,  —  is  shown 
plidnly  in  the  present  postoffice  management.  Were  it  not  for 
the  prevalence  of  this  pestiferous  system,  men  would  not  pre- 
sume to  ask  the  government  to  carry  a  letter  thousands  of 
miles  for  ten  cents,  and,  moreover,  to  give  them  or  their  cor- 
respondent credit  for  it.  That  they  do  this  now  is  manifest, 
because  every  unpaid  letter  must  be  made  account  of;  it 
must  be  stamped,  it  must  be  charged,  it  must  be  noted  several 
times,  and  finally  credited  when  paid,  or,  if  payment  is  never 
made,  go  to  the  dead-letter  office. 


96  Postal  Btfarm.  pec. 

Under  fhe  present  system  there  are  nearly  five  millions  of 
letters,  newspapers,  and  pamphlets,  mailed  every  year  in  the 
United  States,  upon  which  people  refuse  to  pay  the  postage}; 
and  therefore,  alter  having  been  carried  to  every  part  of  the 
Union,  they  must  all  be  trundled  back  to  Washington,  — so 
many  dead  bodies,  —  to  be  laid  out  in  state  awhile,  that  their 
friends  may  have  a  chance  to  recognize  them,  and  finally  em- 
bowelled,  lest  any  treasure  should  be  within  them  that  ought 
not  to  be  burned  upon  the  great  funeral  pile  on  which  they  are 
finallv  to  be  consumed.  By  abolishing  the  credit  system,  about 
two  nimdred  thousand  dollars,  the  postage  on  tiiese  five  mil- 
lion corpses,  would  be  saved ;  but  vastly  more  tiban  this  by  the 
great  simplification  of  the  whole  postal  machinery.  The  same 
credit  system,  and  to  the  same  permcious  extent,  existed  for- 
meriy  in  Eneland ;  indeed,  vulgar  people  used  to  refuse  to 
prepay  their  letters,  upon  tiie  grouna  that  if  the  government 
once  got  the  money,  the  letters  would  not  be  half  so  well  cared 
for.  Now  so  well  has  the  penny  postage  worked,  that  ninety 
PER  OBNT.  of  the  letters  sent  by  mail  are  prepaid. 

The  other  feature  of  the  proposed  reform  which  most  alarms 
conservatism  is  the  free  dehvery,  at  people's  dwellings,  of  all 
stamped  or  prepaid  letters.  U  was  equally  alarming,  when 
first  proposed  in  England ;  but  you  would  as  soon  make  John 
Bull  give  up  a  clause  of  Magna  Charta,  as  attempt  now  to 
take  away  the  privilege  of  fi^e  delivery  of  letters  at  houses 
and  places  of  business.  In  speaking  of  this  matter,  we  assume 
that  letters  would  be  almost  universally  prepaid ;  indeed  we 
should  be  glad  to  have  the  government  refuse  to  give  credit 
upon  letters,  that  is,  to  receive  none  but  stamped  and  pud  let- 
ters, or  at  least  to  demand  five-fold  more  postage  on  letters 
that  were  not  prepiud  by  stamps ;  so  that  few  or  none  of  them 
would  be  found.*  The  great  dUBculty  then  would  be  to  fix 
upon  the  rate  of  population  to  the  square  mile  which  towns 
must  attain,  in  order  to  have  a  postoffice  with  free  deliverv. 
In  some  towns,  of  great  extent  and  sparse  population,  it  would 
be  difficult  to  establish  one.  As  a  general  rule,  however,  the 
number  of  letters  to  be  distributed,  is  in  direct  ratio  to  the 
density  of  the  population. 

As  this  distribution  must  begm  with  populous  towns  and 
cities,  and  cannot  at  first  be  ^ven  to  townships  which  extend 
straggling  over  miles  and  miles  of  hill  and  dale,  selfishness  will 

*  It  18  already  proposed  in  England  to  require  that  all  letters  be  prepaid. 


1848.]  Postal  Reform.  97 

start  up  and  crv  out  against  the  unfairness  of  giving  to  the 
citizen  what  is  denied  to  the  rustic.  To  be  sure,  Rusticus  did 
not  think  of  the  privilege  before ;  cared  not,  indeed,  whether 
there  was  any  postoffice  or  not,  but  now  that  Cit  has  a  postman 
to  call  upon  him,  he  must  have  one  also.  If,  however.  Reform 
must  take  heed  to  every  dog  that  barks  at  her  when  she 
walks  abroad,  she  might  as  well  stay  at  home.  The  end 
idmed  at  is  the  greatest  attainable  good  to  all  mankind,  and 
if  Rusticus  does  not  see  that  whatever  saves  time,  saves  mon- 
ey, quickens  intercourse,  commerce,  and  business  of  all  kinds 
among  the  central  groups  of  men,  at  the  same  time  benefits 
him,  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  it  does  so. 

GHie  best  way  to  show  what  would  be  the  advantages  of  free 
delivery  in  large  towns,  is  to  set  forth  the  actual  working  of, 
the  system  elsewhere.    In  London  there  is  a  general  post-office  * 
into  which  are  received  and  mailed  one  hundred  and  fifty  mil- 
lion  letters  yearly,  or  nearly  five  hundred  thousand  every  day. 

A  large  proportion  of  these  letters  is  for  the  dbtrict  of 
London  itself.  In  1839  the  letters  for  London  itself  were  one 
million  per  month ;  in  1842,  after  the  reduction  of  postage, 
they  were  two  millions ;  in  1847  they  were  three  millions.; 
during  the  current  year  it  is  probable  there  have  been  nearly 
four  millions ;  say  a  million  a  week. 

A  million  letters !  it  is  very  easily  written  or  spoken,  but 
does  the  reader  get  any  adequate  idea  of  the  number  ?  Did 
you  ever  send  out  a  hundred  notes  of  invitation,  to  be  delivered 
at  houses  in  different  parts  of  the  city  ?  Try  it,  and  you  will 
find  that  it  will  keep  one  man  trotting  from  sun  to  sun,  even  in ' 
a  densely-peopled  place  like  Boston  ;  but  extend  his  circle  to 
twelve  miles,  and  scatter  the  letters  over  it,  and  it  would  take 
him  much  longer.  Now  give  the  poor  fellow  a  million  letters 
on  the  day  that  he  comes  of  age,  and  send  him  to  deliver  thein 
at  the  rate  of  a  hundred  a  day,  and  it  will  take  him  twentyr 
seven  years  to  do  it !  Yes !  he  will  be  about  fifty  years  old, 
before  he  has  delivered  the  last  one,  without  having  had  leisure 
time  to  propose  and  to  get  married !  and  a  large  proportion 
of  the  people  addressed  will  have  died  before  the  letters  reach 
their  dwellings. 

Now  let  us  see  how  the  mailing  and  distributing  of  a  million 
of  letters  is  done  in  London.  In  order  to  simplify  the  matter, 
suppose  there  are  only  a  hundred  thousand  letters  per  day. 
One  way  to  distribute  them  would  be  that  which  we  adopt ;  a 
hundred  thousand  men  and  boys  would  trot  to  the  general 

KG.  V,  7 


?!8  Postal  jRrfortu,  [Dec. 

po^t-oSce,  m  tlie  mormng,  to  deposit  their  letters;  and  the 
hundred  thousand  persons  to  whom  they  are  directed  would 
come  to  get  thorn,  while  fifty  or  a  hundred  thousand  more 
would  come  to  see  if  there  were  any  for  them,  and  go  away 
empty-banded*  Thus  there  would  be  three  hundred  thousand 
pei^us  sfM^nding  their  time,  and  most  of  them  travellmg  sev- 
eral miles  to  aud  fro,  about  one  hundred  thousand  letters. 
Eut  ttie  way  actually  adopted  in  London  is,  to  let  the  three 
hundred  thousaud  persons  stay  at  home  and  mind  their  busi- 
ness, and  to  employ  a  small  number  of  active  men  on  horse- 
back and  on  foot,  to  gather  up  the  letters,  bring  them  to  cer- 
tain central  points,  and  send  them  out  again  according  to  their, 
several  directions. 

'In  the  book-stores,  in  the  drug^t's  shops,  in  the  grocery, 
stores,  and  in  other  places  where  men  and  women  most  do  con- 
gregate^ are  "  receiving  boxes,"  to  the  number  of  220 ;  you . 
go  and  drop  your  letter,  with  a  penny  stamp  upon  it,  into  any , 
otie  of  those,  at  a  quarter  before  eight  o^clock  in  the  morning, 
and  your  friend,  two  or  three  miles  off,  receives  it  at  ten.    1^ . 
drops  his  answer  into  the  nearest  box,  and  you  receive  it  at 
your  door,  or,  if  you  have  a  box  at  your  door  with  an  opening ' 
on,  the  street,  you  find  it  dropped  in  there,  withm  two  hours., 
l^ou  may  send  off  your  letters  at  eight  o^clock,  at  ten,  at  noon, 
at  one,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  or  eight  o'clock  in  the  after-' 
noon,  and  have  your  answer  back  within  four  or  five  hours,  or. 
early  the  next  morning,  if  dropped  too  late  in  the  afternoon ; 
apd  all  that  is  paid  is  the  penny  by  yourself  for  your  own  let- 
ter, and  a  penny  by  your  correspondent  for  his  reply. 

But  suppose  you  do  not  want  to  go  out  to  the  receiving 
office,  and  have  no  one  to  send ;  you  need  not  do  so ;  your 
letter  ^ill  bp  taken  from  your  own  door.  In  the  afternoon  a 
hundred  men  start  from  different  points  of  the  circumference  of 
the  great  circle,  each  one  carrying  a  locked  bag,,  (which  can 
be  unlocked  only  at  the  post-office,)  with  a  hole  in  the  side 
large  enough  to  admit  a  letter.  They  walk  along  the  streets 
ringing  their  bells ;  they  come  at  your  beck,  and  you  drop  your 
stamped  letter  into  the  bag,  paying  the  man  nis  fee  of  one 
penny,  and  you  may  be  quite  sure  your  letter  will  reach  the 
post-office,  and  be  mailed  that  evening  to  any  part  of  the 
kingdom. 

It  costs  us  m  Boston  morjc  time,  more  labor,  and  therefore 
more  money,  to  send  a  note  from  one  part  of  the  city  to  another,^  * 
from  the  North  end  to.  ibid  South  end,  than  it  docs  to  send ' 


18481]  Po§MB^/^frm  99 

a^.lettw  to  Now  Yorki  or  even  to  -New  OHeaos.    We  rnmi  - 
have  a  messen^r,  wbo  must  run  two  miles  and  spend  some 
time,  perhaps,  m  finding  the  place ;  he  must  then  run  back 
agiun ;  and  our  friend,  when  he  has  got  his  answer  ready^ 
must  employ  not  only  another  pair  of  legs,  but  the  body,  arms, . 
and  heaa,  all  the  powers,  in  short,  of  a  human  being,  for  the 
safe  conduct  of  a  single  little  bit  of  paper*    In  London  there 
iaever  silently  at  work  a  vast  machinery,  which  picks  up  H^ 
hundred  thousand  letters  and  brings  back  &  hundred  thousand- 
answers,  more  swiftly,  more  surely^  and  more  cheaply  than  we 
send  a  single  thousand. 

But  after  all,  perhaps,  there  is  anobjection  that  will  occur 
to  many  persons  as  insurmountable,  and  that  is,  that  even  if 
we  had  a  system  of  free  delivery  at  houses^  people  would  not ' 
trust  to  it,  but  still  run  to  the  post^flSce.  So  they  would, 
during  a  little  while,  because  it  is  in  the  very  mature  of  things 
for  most  persons  to  suppose  that  what  they  have  always  done 
they , must  always  do.  Turn  the  blind  mill-horse  out  into  the 
p^ure,  imd  he  will  go  round  and  round  awhile  as  he  grases, 
out  at  last  stand  and  graze  at  his  ease. 

The  best  answer,  however,  to  this  objection,  is  the  fSsu^t: 
Londoners  once  used  to  go  gadding  daily  to  the  post-office,  to- 
get  a  letter,  or  a  surly  No !  to  their  inquirv  for  one ;  but  now, 
if  a  man  should  be  seen  hurrying  towards  the  centre  of  the 
city,  and  should  tell  his  friends  he  was  going  to  the  general 
ppstoffice,  they  would  be  more  surprised  than  if  he  should  tell 
them  he  was  going  to  take  the  steamer  for  the  Continent  or^ 
the  United  States. 

There  are  many  benefits  arising  from  the  method  of  free 
delivery  at  houses,  which  we  have  not  time  to  dwell  on ;  but 
we  must  allude  to  one,  and  that  is,  the  advantage  to  the  poor 
and  humble,  especially  to  timid  females,  who  are  now  deterred 
from  keeping  up  a  correspondence  with  friends  by  the  difficul- 
ties attendant  upon  the  delivery  of  letters.  They  are  often 
obliged  to  go  a  half  a  dozen  times,  and  make  vam  inquiries 
at  the  post^ffice.  They  must  often  go  in  bad  weather ;  they 
are  liaole  to  detention,  to  rudeness,  and  to  a  thousand  vexa- 
tions. We  pretend  that  in  this  country  one  man  is  as  good  as 
another,  and  so  we  treat  him,  in  the  abntrad;  but  we  can 
easily  see  in  how  much  greater  esteem  the  rich  and  refined  are 
really  heU,  by  supposing  that  %  rule  were  passed  that  no  let> 
ter  diould  be  delivered  for  any  lady  or  gentiemtfn  at  the  post- 
office,  except  to  themselves  personatly,  and  that  Dives  should 


100  PoBtalJteform.  [Doc. 

not  send  his  messenger,  or  have  his  box,  any  more  timn  Lass- 
arus. 

Suppose  our  rich  men  were  obliged  to  go  and  mingle  in  the 
crowd,  and  push  and  be  pushed,  and  struggle  up  to  the  pos^ 
office  window,  and  pay  out  their  specie  for  every  letter ;  and 
suppose  then:  wives  and  daughters  should  have  to  do  as  the 
poor  milliners  and  sewing  women  must  do, — go  day  after  day 
to' the  most  public  place  in  the  city,  and  work  their  way  througn 
a  bustling  crowd  up  to  a  pigeonhole  in  a  wall,  and  cling  on  to 
it  with  their  hands,  for  fear  of  bemg  pushed  aside  ere  the 
pert  clerk  had  looked  at  them  long  enough  to  see  whether 
they  were  old  or  young,  fair  or  ugly,  before  deciding  with  how 
much  quickness  and  care  he  should  look  for  their  letters.  Let 
rich  mi  refined  ladies  have  to  do  and  suffer  what  poor  and 
humble  women  have  to  do  and  suffer  in  order  to  miul  and  re- 
ceive their  letters ;  and  we  should  have  a  post-office  reform 
ri^t  speedily. 

Far  be  it  from  us  to  propose  or  desire  any  restriction  upon 
the  conveniencies  of  one  class,  because  they  cannot  be  had  by 
all ;  but  we  want  Dives  to  bring  down  his  nose  (in  imagination 
merely,)  upon  the  grindstone  of  reality,  in  order  to  understand , 
how  it  actually  grinds  the  face  of  the  poor. 

We  have  thus  very  loosely  and  imperfectly  jotted  down 
some  thoughts  about  the  proposed  postoffice  reform.  We  have 
not  dwelt  much  upon  statistics,  because  the  financid  side  of 
the  matter  interests  us  much  less  than  the  moral.  We  have 
been  willing  to  grant  that  the  proposed  reform  would  throw 
some  burden  upon  the  general  treasury,  though  it  would  be 
easy  to  show  that  this  Would  soon  become  very  small,  and  per- 
haM  be  removed  entirely. 

The  redaction  of  postage  to  one  cent  for  all  distances  would 
act  like  a  prenuum  upon  writing  and  readmg.  In  1839,  the 
li^t  year  of  the  old  high  system  of  postage  in  Great  Britain, 
the  whole  number  of  letters  mailed  was  seventy-nine  millions. 
In  1840,  the  first  year  of  the  reformed  system,  it  rose  to  one 
hundred  and  sixty-nine  milUons;  in  1842  it  exceeded  two 
hundred  millions,  and  rose  steadily  till  it  reached  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty-two  millions  in  1847,  and  is  still  rising. 

The  gross  income,  under  the  old  system,  had  i^mained 
about  stationary  for  nearly  half  a  century,  varying  from  ten 
to  twelve  millions  of  dollars.  In  1839,  it  was  little  short  of 
twelve  millions.    The  sudden  reduction  of  postage  to  one  pen- 


.  1848.]  Poital  Htfortn.  101 

nj  caused  a  great  falling  off  in  the  net  revenue,  in  1841.  But 
soon  a  flood  of  letters  began  to  pour  in,  and  the  numbers  in- 
creased 80  rapidly,  without  thereby  materially  increasing  the 
expense,  that  m  1847  the  gross  income  was  about  ten  millions 
of  dollars  ;  and  during  the  current  year,  information  obtiuned 
by  Mr.  Hume  in  official  quarters  assures  us  that  it  is  expect- 
ed the  gross  revenue  will  equal  the  gross  amoimt  of  postage 
in  the  year  before  the  postage  was  reduced. 

Yes !  in  1847  the  post-office  system  of  Great  Britain  afford- 
ed the  immense  fitciUties  to  which  we  have  alluded,  circulated 
over  three  hundred  millions  of  letters  to  all  parts  of  the  king- 
dom, at  a  penny  a|Hece,  took  up  and  delivered  many  millions 
at  the  very  doors  of  the  inhabitants,  and  not  only  cost  the 
government  nothing,  but  actually  paid  into  the  treasury  four 
millions  of  dollars,*  its  net  earnings,  over  and  above  all  ex- 
penses! 

Here  is  a  sop  for  Mammon ! 

In  1843,  there  were  24,267,552  letters  circulated  by  mail 
in  the  United  States,  yielding  the  sum  of  $3,525,268.  The 
number  in  1847,  under  the  partial  reduction,  was  more  than 
doubled,  being  52,173,480,  yielding  $3,188,957;  Uie  reduc- 
tion doubling  the  number  without  sensibly  increasing  the  ex- 
pense, and  yielding  almost  the  same  revenue. 

Take  fifty  million  as  the  present  number  of  letters  circulat- 
ed, and  estimate  the  revenue  at  three  nullions  of  dollars,  that 
is,  an  average  of  about  six  cents  a  letter.  Now,  if  we  reduce 
the  postage  to  one  cent,  we  must  have  six  times  as  many  let- 
ters, or  three  hundred  millions  yearly,  to  yield  the  same  reve- 
nue. Let  us  see  what  is  the  probability  of  this  being  done. 
Look  at  Scotland:  she  has  a  population  of  two  and  a  half 
millions ;  her  foreign  and  her  domestic  commerce  are  very 
limited,  compared  with  those  of  the  States ;  one  would  sup- 
pose the  iptercourse  between  different  parts  of  the  countr]^ 
would  be  less  than  in  ours ;  her  people  are  not  more  intelUgenti 
to  say  the  least ;  and  yet,  under  the  reformed  postage  system, 
over  twenty-eight  millions  of  letters  are  circulated  annually, 
or  eleven  letters  for  each  inhabitant ;  while  we  circulate  le$$ 
than  three  letters  per  inhabitant.  Now  give  us  the  cent  post- 
age, and  suppose  that  we  write  only  eleven  letters,  each, 
vearly,  as  many  as  they  do  in  Scotiand,  and  the  revenue  w3l 
be  two  nullions  two  hundred  thousand  dollars.    But  suppose, 

•  The  nd  leveniie  of  the  Britiih  port-ofllce,  in  1S47,  wat  £839,548, 9t.  Stf. 


:l«2  M^^iUB^fmn.  [3)60. 

«s  w&  9V!eU  mAjr,  ^t\re:  shall  .wiifte  one  quarter  ixKMre  kttocs 
in  proportioQ  to  our  population)  the  revenae  will  then  come:  ap 
to  wh^,it  DOW  is,  witlitout  iQateriallj  inereamng  the  expeoae. 

But  there  will  be  other  aoiirces  of  economy,  besides  the  in- 
creased number  of  leUers  circulated,  if  the  proposed  reform 
ehould  be  ivdopted.  The  jodious  franking  pririlege .  should  be 
Abolished  at  once.  Suppose  each  member  of  Congress  wants 
to  send  ten  thousand  letters  per  annum ;  let  Congress  provide 
•lum  with  ten  thousand  letter  stamps,  and  charge  it  in  the  ex- 
pense&.of  the  session.  Or,  if  he  thinks  this  wilLnot  l>e  enou^ 
to  distribute  his  speeches  to  ubiquitous  Buncombe,  ^Te  Jiim 
tweu^*— thirty  thousand,  but,  in  the  name  of  conscience  and 
.reascm,  set  him  ^ome  limit,  and  do  .not  make  ithe  people  pay 
high  postage  on  their  letters,  that  bis  speeches  may  swarm 
over  the  land  like  winged  incubi. 

Serve  presidents  and  secretaries  in  the  same  vrvy ;  limit 
them  somewhere.  Let  the  rule  be  imperative  and  universal ; 
.let  not  even  ^jihpresiikfUesBes  escape  it.  Give  them  stamps, 
:as  many  as  you  choosq,  only  let  it  be  a  specific  chaise  upm 
the  ti^&asury.  Give  them  even  a  hundred  thousand,  and  let 
them  sell  them,  if  th^  will,  it  will  not  be  vforaethim  Ullktg 
human  fie^h'i.dBone  qf  lihem  does! 

Wq  have  already  jdluded  to  the  saving  tS  the  pres^it.loss 
upon  doad  letters ;  that  on  dead  newspapers  would  be  equally 
great,  nay !  it  would  be  .&r  .greater,  if  we  take  the  cost  pf 
transportation  into  the  Account.  Under  the  present  system, 
HuUio^s  of  newspapers  and  {mmphlets  are  carried  by  mail 
^jN>  all  iparts  of  the  .country  and  left  uncalled  for,  because  ^the 
^Qooisignees  will  not  pay  the  postage.  Once  require  prepay- 
^meiK^y  and  men  will  cease  to  put  valueless  papers  into  the  maD. 

Another  saving  would  be  made  by  a  reduction  of  the  cost  of 
raU-road  transportation.  At  present  the  enormous  sum  charged 
by  rail-road  corporations  for  carrying  the  maib  is  clear  profit, 
jfer  it  costs  neict  to  nothing  more  to  take  a  mail  filong  in  the 
tpafs,  than  to  send  Ihem  without  it.  The  stockholder  in  a 
rail-road  company  nuw  ^^  goes  shares-"  with  ihe  government 
in  ttie  -bladk  mail  levied  upon  letters.  You  may  send  a  man 
from  Bostou  to  Philadelphia  with  five  thousand  letters  kx 
iiis  trunk,  ^nd  it  will  cost  you  :but  ten  dollars,  board  and 
.lodging  included ;  that  is,  a  mill  a  letter.  But  government 
«tepB  up  and  says,  ^'  Stop,  ^end,  you  are  smng^ng.  You 
must  put  those  letters  into  my  bag,  and  pay  ten  cents  for  each 
on^,  9T  :fiv0  jiundi«0d  dollars  for  Uie  vi^te.''    33ie  rail*ioad 


1848.]  Pow^nifotm.  lbs 


director  witnesses  this  jdoing,  Itfad  str^^twaj  steps  up  to  th6 
government  and  sajSy  "Stop, old  gentleman,  since  you  get  fiV^ 
hundred  dollars  ibr  carrying  that  tag,  jrou  doh't  suppose  1 1^ 
fool  enough  to  take  it  on  board  my  cars  at  the  same  rate  that 
I  take  a  bag  of  common  merchandise';  you  must  pay  me  many 
fold  more, — you  must  pay,  not  in  proportion  to  what  the 
freight  is  worth,  but  in  proportion  to  what  you  get."  TIA 
government  blusters  and  threatens  prosecution,  but  finallj^, 
Slinking  the  less  stir  is  made  the  better,  it  yields  and  sharcib 
purt  of  its  plunder  with  the  company. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  if  proper  reforms  were  madd* 
and  the  postK)flSce  were  regarded  as  a  great  social  machinery 
for  promoting  the  intellectual,  moral,  and  material  interests  of 
the  people,  railroad  corporations,  soulless  as  they  are  supposed 
tb  be.  would  cooperate  with  government  to  facilitate  its  work- 
ing. So  it  would  be  in  ^  hundred  other  ways,  and  unthought- 
i)f  savings  would  be  madd. 

This,  then,  is  the  one  thing  wanting — a  right  understanding 
0f  the  great  capacities  of  the  postK)ffice  system.  A  moral  ag6 
will  make  it  as  efBcient  a  moral  agent  as  a  commercial  ag^ 
makes  it  au  efficient  commercial  agent.  To  indulge  in  specu- 
lations about  what  would  be  the  effect  of  developing  all  the 
latent  force  of  this  powerful  Agency,  and  yoking  it  into  the 
caii^e  of  true  reform,  would  6wetl  this  article  to  a  volume. 
We  cannot  close,  however,  without  alluding  te  one  benignant 
feature  which  we  discover  already  in  the  misty  future;  aiid 
Hiat  is,  A^  OcBAN  Cent  Postagb  ! 

Let  us  first  consider  ocean  postage  as  it  is  now  usually  re- 
garded— it  will  give  u&  a  fai^  view  of  the  spirit  of  commerce,. 
Then  let  us  look  upon  it  as  it  will  be  regarded  by  and  by — Jl 
*will  give  us  a  faint  idea  of  the  spirit  of  beneficence. 

Millions  of  men  have  torn  themselves  from  the  land  of  tbei^ 
birth,  and  the  homes  of  their  youth,  and  planted  themselves  i^ 
America.  The  heartstrings,^  however,  are  not  like  the  tree^ 
roots ;  they  will  stretch  around  the  globe  without  breaking;  and 
th6ughts  and  affections  will  fly  from  end  to  end  quicker  tha^ 
the  lightning  flashes  along  the  wire.  But  parted  hearts  mwiV 
have  more  than  thoughts  and  wishes  to  satisfy  their  yearning^'; 
tiiere  must  be  words  and  signs  of  love.  Then  Mammon  looks 
pn,  and  says,  ^^  Lol  tbese  millions  here  would  send  message! 
to  those  millions  there,  let  us  carry  them  and  make  great  gatd 
thereon."  So  his  servant.  Commerce,  says  to  the  people,  ^*  I 
will  take  your  merchandise  cheaply ;  I  will  carry  a  hundred 


106  The  Free  iSail  Mavemeiit.  [Dec. 

occasions,  but  not  of  slight  causes ;  *  the  Occasion  may  be  oV 
vious  and  obviously  trivid,  but  the  Cause  obscure  and  great. 
The  Occasion  of  the  French  Revolution  of  1848  was  afforded 
by  the  attempt  of  the  king  to  prevent  a  certain  public  dinner: 
he  had  a  legal  right  to  prevent  it.  The  Cause  of  the  Revolu- 
tion was  a  little  different,  but  some  men  in  America  and  Eng- 
land, at  first,  scarcely  looked  beyond  the  occasion,  and,  taking 
that  for  the  cause,  thought  the  Frenchmen  fools  to  make  so 
tnuch  ado  about  a  trifle,  and  that  they  had  better  eat  their 
taupe  maigre  at  home,  and  let  their  victuals  stop  their  mouths. 
The  Occasion  of  the  American  Revolution  may  be  found  in  the 
Stamp-Act,  or  the  Sugar- Act,  the  Writs  of  Assistance,  or  the 
Boston  Port-Bill ;  some  men,  even  now,  see  no  further,  and 
logically  conclude  the  colonists  made  a  mistake,  because  for  a 
dozen  years  they  were  far  worse  off  than  before  the  ''  Rebel- 
lion," and  have  never  been  so  lightly  taxed  since.  Such  men 
do  not  see  the  Cause  of  the  Revolution,  which  was  not  an  un- 
willingness to  pay  taxes,  but  a  determination  to  govern  them- 
selves. 

At  the  present  day  it  is  plain  that  a  revolution,  neither 
slow  nor  silent,  is  taking  place  in  the  political  parties  of  Amer- 
ica. The  occasion  thereof  is  the  nomination  of  a  tn^n  for  the 
presidency  who  has  no  political  or  civil  experience,  but  who  has 
three  qualities  that  are  important  in  the  eyes  of  the  leading 
men  who  have  supported  and  pushed  him  forward: — one  fi 
that  he  is  an  eminent  slave  holder,  whose  interests  and  accord- 
ingly whose  ideas  are  identical  with  those  of  the  slave-holders; 
the  next,  that  he  is  not  hostile  t6  the  doctrines  of  northern 
manufacturers  respecting  a  protective  tariff;  and  the  third, 
that  he  is  an  eminent  and  very  successful  military  commander. 
The  last  is  an  Accidental  Quality,  and  it  is  not  to  be  supposed 
that  the  intelligent  and  influential  men  at  the  North  and  South 
who  have  promoted  his  election,  value  him  any  more  on  that 
account,  or  think  that  mere  military  success  fits  him  for  hii 
high  oSSce,  and  enables  him  to  settle  the  complicated  diflicul- 
ties  of  a  modem  state.  They  must  know  better ;  but  they 
must  have  known  that  many  men  of  fittle  intelligence  are  60 
taken  with  military  glory  that  they  will  ask  for  no  more  iix 
their  hero ;  it  was  foreseen,  aldO,  that  honest  and  intelli^eni 
tnen  of  all  parties  would  give  him  their  vote  because  he  haA 

*  Viyvnvrai  fitv  ouv  al  araoei/c  ob  rcept  fUKpCrv  &XX*  Ik  /luccwy,  araatu^own  A 
irep2  fuydXuv.  —  Arbu>tlo*8  Bflit.,  lib.  Y^  Chap.  4,  fl. 


.1048.]  Ti$  Free  3$a  ihvemnt.  lOT 

oerer  been  mixed  up  with  tbe  intrigoes  of  political  life.  Thm 
^  fiur^ighted  "  politicians  of  the  North  and  South  saw  that  he 
might  be  elected,  and  then  might  serre  the  purposes  of  the 
dbve-holder,  or  the  manufacturer  of  the  North.  The  military 
tuooess  of  General  Taylor,  an  accidental  merit,  was  only  the 
occasion  of  his  nomination  by  the  Whigs;  his  Substantial 
.  lierit  was  found  m  the  &ct  that  he  was  supposed  (or  known) 
to  be  favorable  to  the  "peculiar  institution '^  of  the  Sout£ 
and  the  protective  policy  of  the  manufacturers  at  the  North : 
tfus  was  the  cause  of  h^  formal  nomination  by  the  Whig  con- 
vention of  Philadelphia,  and  his  real  nomination  by  membeta 
of  the  Whig  party  at  Washington.  The  men  of  property  at 
the  8outh  wanted  an  extension  of  slavery ;  the  men  of  prop- 
erty at  the  North,  a  high  protective  tariff,  and  it  was  thought 
General  Taylor  could  serve  both  purposes,  and  promote  the 
interests  of  the  North  and  South. 

Such  is  the  occasion  of  the  revolution  in  political  parties : 
the  cause  is  the  introduction  of  a  New  Idea  into  these  partieB 
entirely  hostile  to  some  of  their  former  doctrines.  In  the  elec- 
tioneering contest  the  new  Idea  was  represented  by  the  words 
'"  Free  Soil."  For  present  practice  it  takes  a  negative  form^ 
"  No  more  Slave  States,  no  more  Slave  Territory,"  is  the  mot- 
to. But  these  words  and  this  motto  do  not  adequately  repre- 
^Bent  the  Idea,  only  so  much  thereof  as  hi»  been  needful  in  tbe 
.pDeaent  crisis. 

Before  now  there  has  been  much  in  the  political  history  of  . 
America  to  provoke  the  resentment  of  the  North.  England 
lias  been  ruled  by  various  dynasties ;  the  American  chwr  has 
leen  chiefly  occupied  by  the  Southern  House,  the  Dynasty  6t 
iSlave-holders :  now  and  then  a  member  of  the  Northern  House 
lias  sat  on  that  seat,  but  commonly  it  has  been  a  "  Northern 
Man  with  Southern  principles,"  never  a  man  with  Mind  to  see 
^e  great  Idea  of  America,  and  Will  to  carry  it  out  in  action. 
AiU  the  Spirit  of  Liberty  has  not  died  out  of  the  North ;  the 
attempt  to  put  an  eighth  slave-holder  in  the  chwr  of  "  the 
-model  Bepuolic^'  gave  occasion  for  that  spirit  to  act  again. 

The  new  Idea  is  not  hostHe  to  the  distinctive  doctrine  of 
either  political  party ;  —  neither  to  Free  Trade  nor  to  Proteo- 
:tion ;  so  it  makes  no  revolution  in  respect  to  them  —  it  is  neu- 
itral  and  leaves  both  as  it  found  them.  It  is  not  hostile  to  th6 
<}eneral  Theory  of  the  American  State,  so  it  makes  no  revo- 
lution tiiere ;  this  Idea  is  assumed  as  self-evident  in  the  Decla- 
ration of  Independence.    It  is  not  inimical  to  tiie  theory  of 


108  The  Free  SaU  Movement  [Dec. 

.the  Constitution  of  the  United  States  as  set  forth  in  the  pream- 
ble thereto,  where  the  design  of  the  Constitution  is  declared  to 
be  '^  to  form  a  more  perfect  union,  establish  justice,  ensure 
domestic  tranquillity,  provide  for  the  common  defence,  promote 
the  general  welfare,  and  secure  the  blessings  of  liberty  to  our- 
selves and  our  posterity." 

There  are  clauses  in  the  Constitution  which  are  exceptions 
to  its  theory,  and  hostile  to  the  design  mentioned  above ;  to 
such  this  Idea  will  one  day  prove  itself  utterly  at  variance,  as 
it  is  now  plainly  hostile  to  one  part  of  the  practice  of  the 
American  government,  and  that  of  both  the  parties. 

We  have  had  several  political  parties  since  the  Revolution : 
the  Federalists  and  Anti-Federalists,  —  the  latter  shading  oflF 
.into  Republicans,  Democrats,  and  Locofocos ;  the  former 
tapering  into  modem  Whigs,  in  which  guise  Some  of  their 
fathers  would  scarcely  recognise  the  family  type.  We  have 
had  a  Protective  party  and  an  Anti-Protective  party ;  once 
.there  was  a  Free-trade  party,  which  no  longer  appears  in 
politics.  There  has  been  a  National  Bank  party,  which  seems 
to  have  gone  to  the  realm  of  things  lost  on  earth.  In  the 
^e  and  fall  of  these  parties,  several  dramas,  tragic  and 
comic,  have  been  performed  on  the  American  boards,  where 
'^  one  man  in  his  time  plays  many  parts,"  and  stout  represent- 
atives of  the  Hartford  Convention  find  themselves  on  the  same 
side  with  worshippers  of  the  Gerrymander,  and  shouting  the 
same  cry.  It  is  kindly  ordered  that  memory  should  be  so 
Bhort  and  brass  so  common.  None  of  the  old  parties  is  likely 
to  return ;  the  living  have  buried  the  dead.  "  We  are  aU 
Federalists,"  said  Mr.  Jefferson,  "we  are  all  Democrats," 
and  truly,  so  far  as  old  questions  are  concerned.  It  is  well 
known  that  the  present  representatives  of  the  old  Federal 
party  have  abjured  the  commercial  theory  of  their  predeces- 
sors ;  and  the  men  who  were  "  Jacobins  "  at  the  beginning  of 
the  century,  curse  the  new  French  Revolution  by  l£eir  gods. 
At  the  presidential  election  of  1840,  there  were  but  two  par- 
ties in  the  field  —  Democrats  and  Whigs.  As  they  both  sur- 
vive, it  is  well  to  see  what  Interests  or  what  Ideas  they 
represent. 

They  differ  accidentally  in  the  possession  and  the  desire  of 
power;  in  the  fsbct  that  the  former  took  the  initiative  in 
annexing  Texas  and  m  making  the  Mexican  War,  while  the 
latter  only  pretended  to  oppose  either,  but  zealously  and  con- 
clusively cooperated  in  both.    Then,  agam^  the  Democratic 


1848.]  .     The  Free  Sail  Movement.  109 

party  sosttun  the  Sub-treasorj  system,  insisting  that  the  gov- 
ernment shall  not  mterfere  with  hanking,  shall  keep  its  own 
deposits,  and  ^ve  and  take  only  specie  in  its  business  with 
the  people.  The  Whig  party,  if  we  understand  it,  has  not  of 
late  developed  any  distinctive  doctrine  on  the  suWect  of  money 
and  financial  operations,  but  only  complained  of  the  action  of 
the  Sub-treasury ;  yet,  as  it  sustainea  the  late  Bank  of  the 
United  States,  and  appropriately  followed  as  chief  mourner  at 
the  funeral  thereof,  uttering  dreadful  lamentations  and  proph- 
ecies which  Time  has  not  seen  fit  to  accomplish,  it  still  keeps 
up  a  show  of  difiering  from  the  Democrats  on  this  matter. 
These  are  only  Accidental  or  Historical  difierences,  which  do 
not  practically  affect  the  politics  of  the  nation  to  any  great 
degree. 

The  Substantial  difference  between  the  two  is  this:  the 
Whigs  desire  a  tariff  of  duties  which  shall  directly  and  inten- 
tionally protect  American  Industry,  or,  as  we  understand  it, 
shall  directly  and  intentionally  protect  Manufacturing  Indus- 
try, while  tiie  commercial  and  agricultural  interests  are  to 
be  protected  indirectly,  not  as  if  tiiey  were  valuable  in  them- 
selves, but  were  a  collateral  security  to  the  manufacturing 
interest :  a  special  protection  is  desired  for  the  great  manu- 
factures, which  are  usually  conducted  by  large  capitalists  — 
such  as  the  manufacture  of  wool,  iron,  and  cotton.  On  the 
oQier  hand,  the  Democrats  discl^dm  all  direct  protection  of  any 
special  interest,  but,  by  ndsing  the  national  revenue  from  the 
imports  of  the  nation,  actually  afford  a  protection  to  the  arti- 
cles of  domestic  origin  to  the  extent  of  the  national  revenue, 
and  much  more.  That  is  the  substantial  difference  between  the 
two  parties — one  which  has  been  much  insisted  on  at  the  late 
election,  especially  at  the  North. 

Is  this  difference  of  any  practical  importance  at  the  present 
moment  ?  There  are  two  methods  of  rmsing  the  revenue  of  a 
country:  first,  by  Direct  Taxation,  —  a  direct  tax  on  the  per- ^ 
son,  a  direct  tax  on  the  property  ;  second,  by  Indirect  Tax-- 
ation.  To  a  simple-minded  man  Direct  Taxation  seems  the 
only  just  and  equal  mode  of  collecting  the  public  revenue :  the 
rich  man  pays  in  proportion  to  his  much,  the  poor  to  Jiis  little. 
Tina  is  so  just  ana  obvious,  that  it  is  the  onl^  method  resorted 
to,  in  towns  of  the  North,  for  raising  their  revenue.  But 
wWle  it  requires  very  little  common-sense  and  virtue  to  appre- 
ciate this  plan  m  a  town,  it  seems  to  require  a  good  deal  to 
endure  it  m  a  nation.    The  four  direct  taates  levied  by  tiie 


110  TAe  Free  Soil  Movement.    ^  [Dee. 

American  government  Bincc  1787  have  been  imperfectly  col- 
lected, and  only  with  great  difficulty  and  long  delay.     To 
avoid  this  difficulty,  the  government  resorts  to  various  indirect , 
modes  of  taxation,  and  collects  the  greater  part  of  its  revenue . 
from  the  imports  which  reach  our  shores;   In  this  way  a  man's 
national  tax  is  not  directly  in  proportion  to  his  wealth,  but . 
directly  in  proportion  to  his  consumption  of  imported  goods,, 
or  directly  to  that  of  domestic  goods,  whoso  price  is  enhanced : 
by  the  duties  laid  on  the  foreign  article.     So  it  may  happea  • 
that  an  Irish  laborer,  with  a  dozen  children,  pa^s  a  larger 
national  tax  than  a  millionaire  who  sees  fit  to  live  m  a  miserly 
style ;  besides,  no  one  knows  when  he  pays  or  what.    At  first 
it  seems  as  if  the  indirect  mode  of  taxation  made  the  burthen 
light,  but  in  the  end  it  does  not  always  prove  so.    The  remote 
effect  thereof  is  sometimes  remarkable.     The  tax  of  one  per 
cent,  levied  in  Massachusetts  on  articles  sold  by  auction,  has . 
produced  some  results  not  at  all  anticipated. 

Now  since  neither  party  ventures  to  suggest  direct  taxation, 
the  actual  question  between  the  two  is  not  between  Free-trade 
and  Protection,  but  only  between  a  Protective  and  a  Revenue 
tariff.  So  the  real  and  practical  question  between  them  is  this: 
Shall  there  be  a  high  tariff  or  a  low  one  ?  Now  at  first  sight 
a  man  not  in  favor  of  free  trade  might  think  the  present  tonS 
g^ye  sufficient  protection  to  those  great  manufactures  of  wool, 
cotton,  and  iron,  and  as  much  as  was  reasonable.  But. the 
present  duty  is  perhaps  scarcely  adequate  to  meet  the  expenses 
of  the  nation,  for  with  new  territory  new  expenses  must  come; 
there  is  a  large  debt  to  be  discharged,  its  interest  to  be  paid ; , 
large  sums  will  be  demanded  as  pensions  for  the  soldiers. 
Since  these  things  are  so,  it  is  but  reasonable  to  conclude  that 
under  the  administration  of  the  Whigs  or  Democrats  a  pretty 
high  tariff  of  duties  will  continue  for  some  years  to  come.  So 
'  the  great  and  substantial  difference  between  the  two  parties 
ceases  to  be  of  any  great  and  substantial  importance. 

In  the  mean  time  another  party  rises  up,  representmg  nei- 
ther of  these  interests ;  without  developing  any  peculiar  views 
relative  to  Trade  or  Finance^  it  proclaims  the  doctrine  ihat., 
there  must  be  no  more  slave  territory,  and  no  more  slave « 
states.    This  doctrine  is  of  great  practical  importance,  and  - 
ooe  in  which  the  Free-soil  party  differs  substantially  from  both 
the  other  parties.:   Tbd  laea  on  which  the  party  rests  is  not  ^ 
new ;  it  does  not  appear  that  the  men  who  framed  the  Oon3&. 
tutiouy  or  the  people  who  accepted  it,  ever  contemplated  the. 


1848*]  The  Fre$JSoa  MovmenU  111 

extension  of  slavery  beyond  the  limits  of  the  United  States  at 
that  time;  had  such  a  proposition  been  then  made,  it  would 
have  been  indignantly  rejected  by  both.  The  principle  of  the 
Wilmot  Proviso  boasts  the  same  origin  as  the  Declaration  of 
Independence.  The  state  of  feelmg  at  the  North  occasioned 
by  the  Missouri  Compromise  is  well  known,  but  after  that 
there  ¥ras  no  political  party  opposed  to  slavery.  No  President 
has  been  hostile  to  it ;  no  Cabinet ;  no  Congress.  In  1805, 
Mr.  Pickering,  a  Senator  from  Massachusetts,  brought  forward 
his  bill  for  amending  the  Constitution  so  that  slaves  should  not 
form  part  of  the  basis  of  representation;  but  it  fell  to  the 
ground,  and  not  to  be  lifted  up  by  his  successors  for  years  to 
come.  The  refusal  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  while  President, 
to  recognize  the  independence  of  Hayti,  and  his  efforts  to  favor 
the  Slave  Power,  excited  no  remark.  In  1844,  for  the  first 
time  the  anti-slavery  votes  began  seriously  to  affect  the  presi- 
dential election.  At  that  time  the  Whigs  had  nominated  as 
their  candidate  a  man  of  great  powers,  of  popular  manners, 
the  friend  of  Northern  industry,  but  still  more  the  friend  of 
Southern  slavery,  and  more  directly  identified  with  that  than 
any  man  in  so  high  a  latitude.  The  result  of  the  anti-slavery 
votes  b  well  known.  The  bitterest  reproaches  have  been 
heaped  on  the  men  who  voted  against  him  as  the  incarnation . 
of  the  Slave  Power ;  the  annexation  of  Texas,  though  accom- 
plished by  a  Whig  Senate,  and  the  Mexican  War,  tJiough  only 
nxtoen  members  of  Congress  voted  against  it,  have  both  been 
laid  to  their  charge ;  and  some  have  even  affected  to  wonder 
that  men  conscientiously  opposed  to  slavery  could  not  forget' 
their  principle  for  the  sake  of  their  party,  and  put  a  most ; 
decided  slave-holder,  —  who  had  treated  not  only  them  but* 
their  cause  with  scorn  and  contempt,  —  m  the  highest  place 
of  power. 

The  Whig  party  renewed  its  attempt  to  place  a  slave-holder 
in  the  President's  chmr,  at  a  time  when  all  Europe  ris^  tO; 
end  for  ever  the  tyranny  of  man.  General  Taylor  was  partic- 
ularly obnoxious  to  the  anti-slayery  men.  He  is  a  slave-holder,- 
holding  one  or  two  hundred  men  in  bondage,  and  enlarging 
that  number  by  recent  purchases ;  he  employs  them  in  th« 
worst  kind  of  slave-labor — the  manufacture  of  sugar;  he 
leaves  them  to  the  mercy  of  overseers,  the  dregs  and  refuse  of 
mankind ;  he  has  just  returned  from  a  war  undertaken  for  thd , 
extension  of  slavery ;  he  is  a  Southern  man  with  Southern 
interests,  and  opinions  favorable  to  slavery,  and  is  uniformly^ 


112  The  Free  Soil  Movement.  [Dec. 

represented  by  his  supporters  at  the  South  as  decidedly  op- 
posed to  the  Wihnot  Proviso,  and  in  favor  of  the  extension  of 
slavery.  We  know  tins  has  been  denied  at  the  North ;  but 
the  testimony  of  the  South  settles  the  question.  The  conven- 
tion of  Democrats  in  South  Carolina,  when  they  also  nomi- 
nated him,  swd  well,  "  His  interests  are  our  interests ;  .  . 
.  .  we  know  that  on  this  great,  paramount,  and  leading 
queston  of  the  rights  of  the  South  [to  extend  slavery  over  the 
new  territory]  he  is  for  us  and  he  is  with  us."  Said  a  news- 
paper in  his  own  state,  "  General  Taylor  is  from  birth,  asso- 
ciation, and  conviction,  identified  with  the  South  and  her 
institutions,  being  one  of  the  most  extensive  slave-holders  in 
Louisiana,  and  supported  by  the  slave-holding  interest;  is 
opposed  to  the  Wilmot  Proviso,  and  in  favor  of  procuring  the 
pnvilege  to  the  owners  of  slaves  to  remove  with  them  to  newly 
acquired  territory." 

The  Southerners  evidently  thought  the  crisis  an  important 
one.  The  following  is  from  the  distmguished  Whig  Senator, 
Mr.  Berrien. 

"  T  consider  it  the  most  important  presidential  election,  espec- 
ially to  Southern  men,  which  has  occurred  since  the  foundation 
of  the  government. 

"  We  have  great  and  important  interests  at  stake.  If  we  fail  to 
sustain  them  now,  we  may  be  forced  too  soon  to  decide  whether 
we  will  remain  in  the  Union,  at  the  mercy  of  a  band  of  fanatics  or 
political  jugglers,  or  reluctantly  retire  from  it  for  the  preservation 
of  our  domestic  institutions  and  all  our  rights  as  freemen.  If  we 
are  united,  we  can  sustain  them ;  if  we  divide  on  the  old  party 
issues,  we  must  be  victims. 

"  With  a  heart  devoted  to  their  interests  on  this  great  question, 
fmd  without  respect  to  party,  I  implore  my  fellow-citizens  of 
Greorgia,  Whig  and  Democratic,  to  forget  for  the  time  their  party 
divisions :  to  know  each  other  only  as  Southern  men :  to  act  upon 
the  truism  uttered  by  Mr.  Calhoun,  that  on  this  vital  question,  — 
the  preservation  of  our  domestic  institutions,  —  the  Southern  man 
who  is  furthest  from  us  is  nearer  to  us  than  any  Northern  man 
can  be ;  that  General  Taylor  is  identified  with  us  in  feeling  and 
interest,  was  bom  in  a  sJave-holding  state,  educated  in  a  slave- 
holding  state,  is  himself  a  slave-holder ;  that  his  slave  property 
constitutes  the  means  of  support  to  himself  and  family ;  that  he 
cannot  desert  us  without  sacrificing  his  interest,  his  principles,  the 
habits  and  feelings  of  his  life ;  and  that  with  him,  therefore,  our 
institutions  are  safe.  I  beseech  them,  therefore,  from  the  love 
which  they  bear  to  our  noble  state,  to  rally  under  the  banner  of 


1848.]  The  Free  Sail  Movement.  118 

Zacfaaiy  Taylor,  and  with  one  united  voice  to  send  him  hj  accla* 
mation  to  the  executive  chair." 

Now  there  have  always  been  men  in  America  who  were 
opposed  to  the  extension  and  the  very  existence  of  slavery ;  in 
1787,  the  best  and  the  most  celebrated  statesmen  were  pub- 
licly active  on  that  side.  Some  thought  slavery  a  sm,  oiiiers 
a  mistalce,  but  nearly  all  in  the  Convention  thought  it  an 
error.  South  Carolina  and  Georgia  were  the  onlv  states  thor- 
oughly devoted  to  slavery  at  that  time.  They  iJbreatened  to 
withdraw  from  the  Union  if  it  were  not  sufficiently  respected 
in  the  new  Constitution.  If  the  other  states  had  said,  ^'  You 
may  go,  soon  as  vou  like,  for  hitherto  you  have  been  only  a 
curse  to  us  and  done  little  but  brag,"  it  would  have  been  bet- 
ter for  us  all.  However,  partly  for  the  sake  of  keeping  the 
peace,  and  perhaps  still  more  for  the  purpose  of  making 
money  bv  certain  concessions  of  the  South,  the  North  granted 
the  ^utnem  demands.  After  the  adoption  of  the  Constitution 
the  anti-slavery  spirit  cooled  down ;  other  matters  occupied 
the  public  mind.  The  long  disasters  of  Europe ;  the  alarm  of 
Uie  English  partv,  who  feared  their  sons  should  be  ^^  conscripts 
in  the  armies  of  Napoleon,"  and  the  violence  of  the  French 
party,  who  were  ready  to  compromise  the  dignity  of  the 
nation  and  add  new  elements  to  the  confusion  in  Europe  ;  the 
subsequent  conflict  with  England,  and  then  the  efforts  to 
restore  the  national  charac(;er  and  improve  our  material  con* 
dition,  —  these  occupied  the  thought  of  the  nation  till  the 
Missouri  Compronuse  again  disturbed  the  public  mind.  But 
that  was  soon  forgotten ;  little  was  said  about  slavery.  In  the 
eighteenth  century  it  was  discussed  in  the  colleges  and  news- 
papers, even  in  the  pulpits  of  the  North ;  but  in  the  first 
quarter  of  the  nineteenth,  little  was  heard  of  it.  Manufac- 
tures got  established  at  the  North  and  protected  by  duties ;  at 
the  South  cotton  was  cultivated  with  profit,  and  a  heavy  duty 
protected  the  slave-grown  sugar  of  Louisiana.  The  pecuniary 
mterests  of  North  and  South  became  closely  connected,  and 
both  seemed  dependent  on  the  peaceable  continuance  of  sla- 
very. Little  was  said  agcdnst  it,  little  thought,  and  nothing 
done.  Southern  masters  voluntarily  brought  their  slaves  to 
New  England  and  took  them  back,  no  one  offering  the  Afirican 
the  conventional  shelter  of  the  law,  not  to  speak  of  ike  natural 
shelter  of  Justice.  We  well  remember  the  complaint  made 
somewhat  later,  when  a  judge  decided  that  a  slave  brought 

NO.  V.  8 


^ 


114  The  Free  SaU  Ihvemmd.  pta 

here  by  his  master'a  consent  beeame  from  that  moment  free ! 
But  where  am  abounded  grace  doth  much  more  abomid.  There 
rose  up  one  man  who  would  not  compromise,  nor  be  silent,  — 
lAkO  wodd  be  heard.    He  spoke  of  ^e  evil,  q)oke  of  the  Sin 

—  for  all  true  Befbrms  are  bottomed  on  Religion,  and  while 
they  seem  adverse  to  many  Interests,  yet  represent  the  Idea 
ef  the  Eternal.  He  found  a  few  others,  a  very  few,  and 
began  the  anti-slaveiy  movement.  The  ^platform"  of  the 
new  party  was  not  an  Interest^  but  an  Idea — that  ^^  all  men 
are  created  equal,  and  endowed  by  their  Creator  with  certain 
Unalienable  lU^ts.''  Every  Trutii  is  also  a  Fact ;  this  was 
a  Fact  of  Human  Consciousness  and  a  Truth  of  Necessity. 

The  time  has  not  come  to  write  the  histoiy  of  the  abo)itioit> 
ists,  —  othw  deeds  must  come  before  words ;  but  we  cannot 
forbear  quoting  the  testimony  of  one  witness  as  to  the  state  of 
anti-davery  feeHng  in  New  England  in  1831.  It  is  the  late 
Hon.  Hamson  Qray  Otis,  a  former  mayor  of  Boston,  who  speaks. 

^  The  first  information  received  by  me  of  a  disposition  to  agitate 
this  subject  in  our  state,  was  from  the  Governors  of  Virginia  and 
Georgia,  severally  remonstrating  against  an  incendiary  newspaper 
published  in  Boston,  and,  as  they  alleged,  thrown  broadcast  among 
their  plantations,  inciting  to  insurrection  and  its  horrid  results.  It 
appeared,  on  inquiry,  that  no  member  of  the  city  government  [of 
Boston]  had  ever  heard  of  the  publication.  Sometime  aAerwardi 
it  was  reported  to  me  by  the  city  officers,  that  they  had  ferreted 
out  the  paper  and  its  editor ;  that  his  office  was  an  obscure  holoi 
his  only  vbible  auxiliary  a  negro  boy,  and  his  supporters  a  very 
few  insignificant  persons  of  all  colors.  This  information  .  .  . 
I  communicated  to  the  above  named  Governors,  with  an  assurance 
of  my  belief  that  the  new  fanaticism  had  not  made,  nor  was  likely 
to  make,  proselytes  among  the  respectable  classes  of  our  people. 

Such  was  the  state  of  things  in  1831.  Anti-slavery  had 
'^  an  obscure  hole  ^'  for  its  head-quarters ;  the  one  agitator, 
who  had  filled  the  two  doughtv  governors  of  Virginia  and 
Georgia  with  uncomfortable  forebodings,  had  "  a  negro  boy  " 
"  for  his  only  visible  auxiliary,"  and  none  of  the  respectable 
men  of  Boston  had  heard  of  the  hole,  of  the  agitator,  of  the 
negro  boy,  or  even  of  the  a^tation.    One  thing  must  be  true, 

—  either  the  man  and  the  boy  were  pretty  vigorous,  or  else 
diere  was  a  great  Trutii  in  that  obscure  hole ;  for  in  spite  of 
liie  governors  and  the  mayors,  snite  of  the  manv  able  men  in 
tire  South  and  the  North,  spite,  also,  of  the  wealth  and  respect- 
aU&fy  of  the  whole  land — it  is  a  plain  case  that  the  aboli^ 


1848.]  TJ^  Frea  SM  MonmnmL  tIS 

tionists  have  shaken  the  natioai,  and  thdr  Idea  is  thr  Idea  of 
the  time,  and  the  party  which  shall  warmly  welcome  that  ia 
destined  before  long  to  overiide  all  the  other  parties. 

One  thing  must  be  said  of  the  leaders  of  the  anti-slaares]^ 
iBOvement:  thej  asked  for  nothing  but  Justice ;  not  Ju^ioe  fm 
themselves,  —  they  were  not  Socratic  enough  to  ask  that, — 
but  only  Justice  for  the  slave,  and  to  obtain  Uiat  they  forsook 
aU  that  human  hearts  most  love.  It  is  ratiier  a  cheap  courage 
which  fou^t  at  Monterey  and  Palo  Alto — a  bravery  that  can 
be  bought  for  ten  dollars  a  month ;  the  patriotism  which  hm^ 
ras  for  ^^  our  side,"  which  makes  speeches  at  Eaneuil  HaO^ 
nay,  which  carries  torch^lights  in  a  procession,  is  not  ike  r^ 
lofdest  kind  of  patriotism ;  even  the  man  who  stands  up  9i 
fbe  stake,  and  in  one  brief  hour  of  agony  anticipates  the  long 
torment  of  disease,  does  not  endure  die  hardest  but  only  ik9 
most  obvious  kind  of  martyrdom.  But  when  a  man  for  con* 
science'  sake  leaves  a  callmg  that  would  ensure  him  bread  and 
respectability,  when  he  abjures  the  opinions  whieh  give  him  tftit 
esteem  of  honorable  men ;  when  for  the  sake  of  Truth  and 
Justice  he  devotes  himself  to  liberating  the  most  abused  and 
despised  class  of  men,  solely  because  tihey  are  men  and  broUk^ 
ers;  wh^i  he  thus  steps  fortii  in  front  of  tiie  world  and  eBb 
counters  poverty  and  neglect,  the  scorn,  the  loathmg,  and  the 
contempt  of  mankind — why  there  is  something  not  very  ooni» 
men  in  that.  There  was  once  a  man  who  had  not  where  te 
lay  his  head,  who  was  bom  in  ^^  an  obscure  hole  "  and  had 
not  even  a  negro  boy  for  his  ^^  auxiliary ; "  who  all  his  life 
lived  with  most  obscure  peiBons — eating  and  drinking  wttk 
pddioans  and  sinners ;  who  found  no  favor  witii  mayors  or  gon^ 
eniors,  and  yet  has  had  some  influence  on  the  history  of  the 
worid.  When  intelligent  men  mock  at  small  begmnings,  it  is 
Burprismg  they  cannot  remember  that  the  greatest  institutions 
have  had  their  times  which  tried  men's  souls,  and  that  they 
who  have  done  all  the  noblest  and  best  woric  of  mankind, 
sometimes  forgot  self-interest  in  looking  at  a  great  Truth,  and 
though  they  had  not  always  even  a  negro  boy  to  help  them  or 
an  obscure  hole  to  lay  their  heads  in,  yet  found  the  might  of 
the  universe  was  on  the  mde  of  Bi^t  mi  themselves  Workers 
witiiGod! 

The  abolitionists  did  not  cdm  to  found  a  political  party ;  they 
set  forth  an  Idea.  If  they  had  set  up  the  Interest  of  the 
Whigs  or  the  Democrats,  the  manufocturers  or  the  merchantSi 
they  mi^t  have  fcurmed  a*  party  and  bad  a  h^h  plaee  in  il| 


116  The  Free  SM  Movement.  [Dec. 

irith  money,  ease,  social  rank  and  a  great  name — in  iiie  party 
newspapers.  Some  of  them  had  political  talents,  Ideas  more 
ihan  enough,  the  power  of  organizing  men,  the  skill  to  manage 
ihem,  and  a  genius  for  eloquence.  With  such  talents  it  de- 
mands not  a  Uttle  manliness  to  keep  out  of  politics  and  in  ihe 
Truth. 

To  found  a  political  party  there  is  no  need  of  a  great  moral 
Idea ;  the  Whig  party  has  had  none  such  this  long  time  ;  ike 
Democratic  party  pretends  to  none  and  acts  on  none ;  each 
represents  an  Interest  which  can  be  estimated  in  dollars ;  nei- 
ther seems  to  see  that  behind  questions  of  political  economy 
there  is  a  question  of  political  morality,  and  the  welfare  of 
the  nation  depends  on  the  answer  we  shall  ^ve !  So  long  as 
the  abolitionists  had  nothing  but  an  Idea,  and  but  few  men  had 
that,  there  was  no  inducement  for  the  common  run  of  politi- 
cians to  join  them ;  they  could  make  nothing  by  it — so  nothing 
of  it.  The  Guardians  of  Education,  the  fiustees  of  the  Pop- 
ular Religion,  did  not  like  to  invest  in  such  funds.  But  stiU 
the  Idea  went  on,  spite  of  the  most  entire,  the  most  bitter,  the 
most  heartless  and  unrelenting  opposition  ever  known  in  Amer- 
ica. No  men  were  ever  hated  as  the  abolitionists ;  political 
parties  have  joined  to  despise  and  sectarian  churches  to  curse 
them.  Yet  the  Idea  has  gone  on,  till  now  all  that  is  most  pious 
m  the  sects,  most  patriotic  in  the  parties;  all  that  is  most 
Christian  in  modem  philanthropy,  is  on  its  side.  It  has  some 
representative  in  almost  every  family,  save  here  and  there  one 
whose  God  is  Mammon  alone,  where  the  parents  are  antedilu- 
vian and  the  children  bom  old  and  conservative,  with  no  &cul- 
ty  but  memory  to  bind  them  to  mankind.  It  has  its  spokes- 
men in  the  House  and  the  Senate.  The  tide  rises  and  swellsi 
and  the  compact  wall  of  the  Whig  party,  the  tall  ramparts 
of  the  Democrats,  are  beginning  to  "  cave  in." 

As  the  Idea  has  gamed  ground  men  have  begun  to  see  that 
an  Interest  was  connected  with  it,  and  begun  to  look  after 
that.  One  thing  the  North  knows  well  —  the  art  of  calcula- 
tion, and  of  cyphering.  So  it  begins  to  ask  questions  as  to 
the  positive  and  comparative  influence  of  the  Slave  Power  on 
the  country :  who  fought  the  Revolution  ?  —  why  the  North, 
fumishing  the  money  and  the  men,  Massachusetts  alone  sendU 
ing  fourteen  thousand  soldiers  more  than  all  the  present  slave 
states.  Who  pays  the  national  taxes  ?  the  North,  for  the  slaves 
pay  but  a  trifle.  Who  owns  the  greater  part  of  the  property — 
the  mills,  the  shops,  the  ships  ?  the  North.    Who  writes  the 


1848.]  The  Free  Sail  Movement.  117 

books  —  the  histories,  poems,  philosophies,  works  of  sciencOi 
eren  the  sermons  and  commentaries  on  the  Bible  ?  still  Ihe 
North.  Who  sends  their  children  to  school  and  college  ?  the 
North.  Who  builds  the  churches ;  who  founds  the  Bible-soci- 
eties, Education-societies,  missionary-societies  —  the  thousand 
and  one  institutions  for  making  men  better  and  better  off? 
why  the  North.  In  a  word,  who  is  it  that  in  seventy  years 
has  made  the  nation  great,  rich,  and  fiemious  for  her  Ideas  and 
their  success  all  over  the  world?  The  answer  is  —  still  the 
North,  the  North. 

Well,  says  the  calculator,  but  who  has  the  offices  of  the  na- 
tion ?  the  South.  Who  has  filled  the  presidential  chair  forty- 
eight  years  out  of  sixty  ?  nobody  but  slave-holders.  Who  has* 
held  the  chief  posts  of  honor  ?  the  South.  Who  occupy  the 
chief  offices  in  the  army  and  navy  ?  the  South.  Who  in- 
creases the  cost  of  thepK)stK)ffice  and  pays  so  litttle  of  its  ex- 
pense ?*  the  South.  Who  is  most  blustering  and  disposed  to 
quarrel?  the  South.  Who  made  the  Mexican  war?  the 
South.  Who  sets  at  nought  the  Constitution  ?  the  South. 
Who  would  bring  the  greatest  peril  in  case  of  war  with  a 
strong  enemy  ?  why  the  South,  the  South !  But  what  is  the 
South  most  noted  for  abroad  ?  for  her  three  nullion  slaves ;  — 
and  the  North  ?  for  her  wealth,  freedom,  education,  religion  J 

Then  the  calculator  begins  to  remember  past  times  —  opens 
the  account-books  and  turns  back  to  old  charges :  five  slaves 
count  the  same  as  three  freemen,  and  the  three  million  slaves, 
which  at  home  are  nothing  but  property,  entitle  their  owners 
to  as  many  Representatives  in  Congress  as  are  now  sent  by  all 
the  one  million  eight  hundred  thousand  freemen  who  make  the 
entire  population  of  Maine,  New  Hampshire,  Vermont,  Bhode 
Island,  and  Massachusetts,  and  have  created  a  vast  amount  of 

K>perty  worth  more  than  all  the  slave  states  put  together ! 
en  the  North  must  deliver  up  the  frigitive  slaves,  and  Ohio 
must  play  the  Traitor,  the  Kidnapper,  the  Bloodhound,  for 
Kentucky !    The  South  wanted  to  make  two  slave  states  out 

*  The  following  table  thowB  the  facts  of  the  case : — 


Cost  of  post-office  in  slave  states  for 
the  year  ending  July  1st,  1847, 

$1^18,541 
Receipts  from  post-office,     624,380 


Cost  of  post-office  in  flree  statea  for 
the  year  ending  Jnly  1st,  1847, 

$1,038^19 
Receipts  from  post-office,    1,459,631 


So  the  Southern  post-office  cost  the  nation  $694,161,  and  the  Northern  post- 
office  paid  the  nation  $421,412,  making  a  difference  of  $1,115,573  against  the 
Sooth. 


UB  The  Free  Shu  Mmmm$.  [Dm^ 

of  Plorida,  and  will  out  of  Tezas^  she  makes  slav^eiy  j>erpeta- 
;al,m  both,  she  is  always  bra^dng  as  if  she  made  the  fievola- 
£on,  while  she  only  laid  the  Embai^go,  and  made  the  late  w«r 
with  England, — but  that  is  going  further  back  than  is  needful. 
!Che  South  imprisons  our  colored  sailors  in  her  ports,  contraiy 
rto  Justice,  and  even  contrary  to  the  Constitution.  .She  drofe 
jxar  comnussioners  out  of  South  Carolina  and  Louisiana,  wlran 
tlhe J  were  sent  to  look  into  the  matter  and  legally  seek  for  jne- 
^Icess.  She  afEronts  the  world  with  a  most  odious  de^)otis]i|, 
and  tried  to  make  England  return  her  runaway  slaves,  makii^ 
the  nation  a  reproach  before  the  worid ;  she  insists  on  kidnap- 
ping men  even  in  Boston;  she  declares  &at  we  shall  not  abol* 
jsh  slavery  in  the  captal  of  the  Union;  that  she  will  extend 
it  in  spite  of  ns  from  sea  to  sea;  she  annexed  Texas  for  a 
slave^pasture,  and  then  made  &e  Mexican  war  to  enlarge  that 
jiastttre,  but  the  North  musti)ay  for  it ;  she  treads  the  Consti- 
tution under  her  feet,  the  Norm  under  her  feet,  Justice  and 
ihe  Unalienable  lUghts  of  Man  under  her  feet. 

The  North  has  charged  all  these  items  and  many  more ;  now 
.they  are  brought  up  for  settiement,  and,  if  not  cancelled,  will 
jDot  be  forgot  till  the  Muse  of  History  gives  up  the  ghost  The 
North  has  the  American  sentiment,  the  American  Idea,  puts 
tthe  man  befbre  the  dollar — counting  man  the  Substance, 
^property  the  Accident-  The  sentiment  and  Idea  of  liberty 
are  bottomed  on  Christianity,  as  that  on  Human  Nature ;  they 
jare  quite  sure  to  prevail ;  the  spirit  of  the  nation  is  on  tiieir 
jBide  —  the  spirit  of  Oxe  age  and  the  Everlasting  Right. 

It  is  instructive  to  see  how  the  political  parties  have  hithe^ 
to  kept  clear  of  anti^lavery.  It  is  '^no  part  of  the  Whig  doc- 
,  trine ; "  the  Democrats  abhor  it.  Mr.  Webster,  it  is  true,  once 
•  X^laimed  the  WUmot  Proviso  as  his  thunder,  hxxi  he  cannot 
'  wield  it,  and  so  it  slips  out  of  his  hands,  and  runs  round  to  the 
chair  of  his  brother  senator  from  New  Hampshire.  No  leadmg 
^litician  in  America  has  ever  been  a  leader  i^inst  slavery. 
Even  Mr.  Adams  only  went  as  he  was  pushed.  True,  among 
the  Whigs  there  are  Giddings,  Palfrey,  Tuck,  and  Mann ;  — 
among  the  Democrats  there  is  Hale,  and  a  few  others,;  but 
what  are  they  among  so  many  ?  The  members  of  the  fami^ 
of  Truth  are  unpopular,  they  make  esoellent  servants  but  hard 
masters ;  while  the  members  of  tiie  'Family  of  Interest  are  all 
Tespectable ;  they  are  the  best  company  in  the  worid ;  their  liv- 
ely is  attractive;  their  motto,  ^Hhe  almighijy  dollar,"  is  apass- 
poit  everywhere.    Now  it  happens  that  some  of  the  move  eA- 


1848.}  The  Free  SaaJUmmmt.  lit 

vanoed  memibers  of  tbe  bmiy  of  Truth  figbt  tlieir  way  iak^ 
^^  good  society,"  aad  make  matrimonial  alliances  mih  some  ci 
the  poor  relatbns  of  the  faoulj  of  Interest.  Straightway  they 
become  respectable;  the  church  publishes  the  bans;  the  mai^ 
riage  is  solemnized  in  the  most  Christian  form ;  the  attorney  d^ 
Clares  it  legal.  So  the  Gt>spel  and  Law  are  satisfied,  Truth  and 
Interest  made  one,  and  many  persons  after  this  alliance  may  be 
seen  in  the  company  of  Truth  who  before  knew  not  of  her  «xis^ 
ence.  The  Free  coil  party  has  grown  out  of  the  anti-slaveij 
movement.  It  will  have  no  more  slave  territory,  but  does  not 
touch  slavery  in  the  states,  or  between  them,  and  says  nothing 
against  tiie  compromises  of  tiie  Constitution,  —  the  time  has 
not  come  for  that.  The  party  has  been  organized  in  haatOi 
and  is  composed,  as  are  all  pieties,  of  most  ^scordant  materi- 
als, some  of  its  members  seemmg  hardly  familiar  with  the  Idea; 
some  are  not  vet  emancipated  from  old  prgudices,  old  method! 
of  action,  ana  old  interests;  but  the  greater  part  seem  hostile 
to  davery  in  aU  its  forms.  The  immediate  triumph  of  this 
new  party  is  not  to  be  locked  for ;  not  desirable.  In  Massa- 
chusetts they  have  gained  large  numbers  in  a  very  shcwi 
Eriod,  and  under  every  disadvantage.  What  their  futum 
itory  is  to  be  we  will  not  now  attempt  to  conjecture ;  but  thii 
is  {dam,  that  they  csmnot  remain  long  in  their  present  positi(»9 
—  eith^  they  will  go  back,  and,  after  due  penance^  receive 
pditical  absolution  from  the  church  of  tbe  Whigs,  or  the  Deia> 
ocrats, — and  this  seems  impossible,  —  or  else  they  must  ff 
forward  where  iixe  Idea  of  justice  impels  them.  One  day  tlui 
motto  "  no  mwe  slave  territory  "  will  give  place  to  this :  "  no 
slavery  in  America."  The  revolution  in  Ideas  is  not  over  ti^ 
&at  is  done,  nor  the  corresponding  revolution  in  deeds  whilo 
a  single  slave  remains  in  America.  A  man  who  studies  th| 
great  movements  of  mankind  feels  sure  that  that  day  is  not 
&r  off;  that  no  combination  of  northern  and  southern  interesti 
no  declamation,  no  violence,  no  love  of  money,  no  party  zea), 
no  fraud  and  no  lies,  no  compromise,  can  long  put  off  the  tinrai. 
Bad  passions  will  ere  long  league  with  the  holiest  love  of 
^^,  and  that  wickedness  m^y  be  put  down  with  the  strong 
iaaad  which  might  easily  be  ended  at  little  cost  and  without 
any  violence,  even  of  speech.  One  day  the  Democratic  part^ 
of  the  North  will  remember  the  grievances  which  they  havo 
fittflered  from  the  South,  and,  if  they  embrace  the  Idea  jqC 
Freedom,  no  constitutional  scruple  wul  long  hold  them  from 
4Us  work.    What  slavery  is  in  the  acoddle  of  the  nmeteenth 


120  The  Free  Sail  Movement.  [Deo. 

century  is  quite  plsdn ;  what  it  wXl  be  at  the  beginning  of  the 
twentieth  it  is  not  difficult  to  foresee.  The  Slave  Power  has 
gamed  a  great  victory  —  one  more  such  will  cost  its  life. 
South  GaroUna  did  not  forget  her  usual  craft  in  voting  for  a 
northern  man  that  was  devoted  to  slavery. 

Let  us  now  speak  briefly  of  the  conduct  of  the  election.  It 
has  been  attended,  at  least  in  New  England,  with  more  mtel- 
lectual  action  than  any  election  that  we  remember,  and  with 
less  violence,  denunciation,  and  vulgar  appeals  to  low  passions 
and  sordid  interest.  Massachusetts  has  shown  herself  worthy 
of  her  best  days  ;  the  Free  Soil  vote  may  be  looked  on  with 
pride,  by  men  who  conscientiouslv  cast  their  ballot  the  other 
way.  Men  of  ability  and  integnty  have  been  active  on  both 
mdes,  and  able  speeches  have  been  made,  while  the  vulgarity 
that  marked  the  "  Harrison  Campwgn  "  has  not  been  repeated. 

In  this  contest  the  Democratic  party  made  a  good  confes- 
mon,  and  "  owned  up "  to  the  full  extent  of  their  conduct. 
They  stated  the  question  at  issue,  fairly,  clearly,  and  entirely; 
the  point  could  not  be  mistaken.  The  Baltimore  convention 
dealt  honestly  in  declaring  the  political  opinions  of  the  party : 
the  opinions  of  their  canmdate  on  the  great  party  questions, 
and  the  subject  of  slavery,  were  made  known  with  exemplary 
clearness  and  fidelity.  The  party  did  not  fight  in  the  dark ; 
<hey  had  no  dislike  to  holding  slaves,  and  they  pretend  none. 
In  all  parts  of  the  land  they  went  before  the  people  with  the 
same  doctrines  and  the  same  arguments;  everywhere  they 
**  repudiated  "  the  Wihnot  Proviso.  This  gave  them  an  aa- 
Tantoge  over  a  party  with  a  different  policy.  They  had  a 
platform  of  doctrines;  they  knew  what  it  was;  the  party 
Bfcood  on  the  platform ;  then  the  candidate  stood  on  it. 

The  Whig  party  have  conducted  differently  ;  they  did  not 
publish  their  confession  of  faith.  We  know  what  was  the 
Whig  platform  in  1840  and  in  1844.  But  what  is  it  in  1848  ? 
Particular  men  may  publish  their  opinions,  but  the  doctrines  <^ 
the  party  are  "  not  communicated  to  the  public."  For  once 
la  the  hwtory  of  America  there  was  a  Whig  convention  which 
passed  no  "  resolutions,"  —  it  was  the  convention  at  Philadet 
plua.  On  one  point,  of  the  greatest  importance  too,  it  expressed 
the  opinions  of  tiie  Whigs :  it  rejected  the  Wilmot  Proviso,  and 
Mr.  Webster's  thunder,  which  had  fallen  harmless  and  without 
lightning  from  his  hands,  was  "  kicked  out"  of  the  meeting! 
As  the  party  had  no  platform,  so  their  candidate  had  no  poht- 


1848.]  The  Free  Sail  Movement.  121 

ical  opinions.  "  What ! "  says  one,  "  choose  a  president  who 
does  not  declare  his  opinions,  —  then  it  must  be  because  they 
are  perfectly  well  known !  *'  Not  at  all :  General  Taylor  is 
raw  m  politics  and  has  not  taken  his  first  "  drill."  "  Then  he 
must  be  a  man  of  such  great  political  and  moral  ability  that 
lus  Will  may  take  the  place  of  reason ! "  Not  at  all :  he  is 
known  only  as  a  successful  soldier,  and  his  reputation  is  scarcely 
three  years  old.  Mr.  Webster  declared  his  nomination  ^'  not 
fit  to  be  made,"  and  nobody  ha£  any  authentic  statement  of  his 
political  opinions  —  perhaps  not  even  General  Taylor  himself. 
In  the  electioneering  campwgn  there  has  been  a  certain  du- 
plicity in  the  supporters  of  General  Taylor :  at  the  North  it 
was  mmntsdned  that  he  is  not  opposed  to  the  Wilmot  Proviso, 
while  at  the  South  quite  uniformly  the  opposite  was  maintmned. 
Tins  duplicity  had  the  appearance  of  dishonesty.  In  New 
England  the  Whigs  did  not  meet  the  facts  and  arguments  of  the 
Free  Soil  party :  in  the  beginning  of  the  campaign  the  attempt 
was  made,  but  was  afterwards  comparatively  abandoned ;  the 
matter  of  slavery  was  left  out  of  the  case,  and  the  old  question 
of  the  Sub-treasury  and  the  Tariff  was  brought  up  again,  and 
a  stranger  would  have  thought,  from  some  Whig  newspapers, 
that  that  was  the  only  question  of  any  importance.  Few  men 
were  prepared  to  see  a  man  of  the  ability  and  experience  of 
Mr.  Webster  in  his  electioneering  speeches  pass  wholly  over 
the  subject  of  slavery.  The  nation  is  presently  to  decide 
whether  slavery  is  to  extend  over  the  new  territory  or  not : 
even  in  a  commercial  and  financial  point  of  view,  this  is  far 
more  important  than  the  question  of  Banks  and  Tarifl& ;  but 
when  its  importance  is  estimated  by  its  relation  to  Freedom, 
Right,  Human  Welfare  in  general,  —  we  beg  ike  pardon  of 
American  politicians  for  speaking  of  such  things,  —  one  is 
amazed  to  find  the  Whig  party  of  the  opinion  that  it  is  more 
important  to  restore  the  Tariff  of  1842  than  to  prohibit  sla- 
very in  a  country  as  large  as  the  thirteen  states  which  fought 
the  Revolution !  It  might  have  been  expected  of  little,  ephem- 
eral men  —  mintite  politicians,  who  are  the  pest  of  the  State, 
—  but  when  at  such  a  crisis  a  great  man  rises,  amid  a  sea  of 
upturned  faces,  to  instruct  the  lesser  men,  and  forgets  Right, 
forgets  Freedom,  forgets  Man,  and  forgets  God,  talking  only 
of  the  Tariff  and  of  Banks,  why  a  stranger  is  amazed,  till  he 
remembers  the  peculiar  relation  of  the  great  man  to  the  mon- 
eyed men, —  that  Tie  is  their  attorney,  retained,  paid,  and  pen- 
sioned to  do  the  work  of  men  whose  interest  it  is  to  keep  the 


\ 


1S£  The  Free  SoU  MMfement.  [Deo. 

qoesti^  of  Slavery  out  of  sight.  If  Oeneral  Gavaigoac  had 
received  a  pension  from  the  manufacturere  of  Lyons  and  of 
Lisle,  to  the  amount  of  half  a  million  of  francs,  should  we  be 
surprised  if  he  forgot  the  needy  millions  o!  the  land  ?  Nay, 
only  if  he  did  not  forget  them  f 

It  was  a  little  hardy  to  ask  the  anti-slavery  men  to  vote  for 
General  Taylor ;  it  was  like  asking  the  members  of  a  temper- 
ance society  to  dioose  an  eminent  distiller  for  president  of 
their  association.  Still,  we  know  that  h(me8t  anti-davery  men 
did  hoaiestly  vote  for  him.  We  know  nothing  to  impeach  the 
political  integrity  of  General  Taylor ;  the  simple  &ct  that  he 
is  a  slave-holder  seems  reason  enough  why  he  should  not  be 
president  of  a  nation  who  believe  that  ^^  aU  men  are  created 
equal,  and  endowed  by  their  Creator  with  certain  Unalienable 
Bights."  Men  will  be  astonished  in  the  next  century  to  learn 
that  the  ^'  model  Republic  "  had  such  an  affection  for  slaine- 
holders.  Here  is  a  remarkable  document,  which  we  thioi: 
should  be  preserved :  — 

DEED  OF  SALE. 
**  Jonr  HAQAmD,  8m.    To  Zaobabub  Tatior.    Received  for  Beeordf  ISih  Feb.y  1818. 

*'  This  Ltdenturt^  made  tbis  twenty-first  day  of  April,  eighteen 
hundred  and  forty-two,  between  Jphn  Hagacd»  Sr.,  of  the  City  of 
New  Orleans,  State  of  Louisiana,  of  one  part,  and  Zachariah  Tay« 
lor,  of  the  other  part,  WitJtesseth,  that  the  said  John  Hagard,  Sr.« 
for  and  in  consideration  of  the  sum  of  Ninety-  Five  Thousand 
Dollars  to  him  in  hand  paid,  and  secured  to  be  paid,  as  hereafter 
stated  by  the  said  Zachary  Taylor,  at  and  before  the  sealing  and 
delivering  of  these  Presents,  has  this  day  bargained,  sold,  and 
delivered,  conveyed,  and  confirmed,  and  by  these  Presents  does 
bargain,  sell,  deliver,  and  confirm  unto  the  said  Zachariah  Taylor, 
his  heirs  and  assigns,  forever,  all  that  plantation  and  tract  of  land: 

.  .  .  •  Also,  all  the  following  Slaves — Nelson,  Milley, 
Peldea,  Mason,  Wilhs,  Rachel,  Caroline,  Lucinda,  Ramdall,  Wir- 
man,  Caorson,  Little  Ann,  Winna,  Jane,  Tom,  Sally,  Gracia,  Big 
Jane,  Louisa,  Maria,  Charles,  Barnard,  Mira,  Sally,  Carson,  Paul^ 
Sansford,  Mansfield,  Harry  Oden,  Harry  Horley,  Carter,  Henri- 
etta, Ben,  Charlotte,  Wood,  Dick,  Harrietta,  Clarissa,  Ben,  An- 
thony, Jacob,  Hamby,  Jim.  Gabriel,  Emeline,  Armstead,  George, 
Wilson,  Cherry,  Peggy,  Walker,  Jane,  Waliace,  Bartlett,  Martha, 
Letitta,  Barbara,  Matilda,  Lacy,  John,  Sarah,  Bigg  Ann,  Allen, 
Tom,  George,  John,  Dick,  Fielding,  Nelson  or  Isom,  Winna,  Shel- 
k>d,  Lidney,  Little  Cherry,  Puck.  Sam,  Hannah  or  Anna,  Maiy, 
Ellen,  Henrietta,  and  two  small  children : — Also,  all  the  Horses, 
Males,  Cattle,  Hogs,  fVuming  Utensils,  and  Tools,  now  on  jaid 


18180  The  Free  SoaMwemem.  1S8 

Plantalioo — togelber  with  all  and  «iagcilar,  tbe  hereditaaieiilei 
appartenances,  privileges,  and  advantages  unto  the  said  Land  and 
Slaves  belonging  or  appertaining.  To  have  and  to  hold  the  said 
Plantation  and  tract  of  Land  and  Slaves,  and  other  property 
above  described,  unto  the  said  Zachariah  Tajlor,  his  heirs  and 
assigns,  forever,  and  to  his  and  their  only  proper  use,  benefits,  and 
behoof,  forever.  And  the  said  John  Hagard,  Sr.,  for  himself,  his 
heirs,  executors,  and  administrators,  does  covenant,  promise,  and 
agree  to  and  with  said  Zachariah  Taylor,  his  heirs  and  assigns, 
that  the  aforesaid  Plantation  and  tract  of  Land  and  Slaves,  and 
other  ^property,  with  the  appurtenances,  unto  the  said  Zachariah 
Tiiylor,  hb  heirs,  and  assigns  against  the  daim  or  claims  of  all 
fKCBons  whomsoever  claiming  or  to  claim  the  same,  or  any  part 
or  |)arcel  thereof,  shall  and  will  warrant,  and  by  these  Presents 
forever  defend. 

"  2»  Testimony  Whereof^  the  said  John  Hagard,  Sr.,  has  here- 
unto set  his  hand  and  seal,  the  day  and  year  first  above  written." 

If  this  document  had  been  discovered  among  some  Egyptian     ^' 
fwpyrii  with  the  date  1848  before  Christ,  it  would  have  been  ^^ 
remarkable  as  a  sign  of  the  times.   Li  a  Bepublic^  nearly  four 
thousand  years  later,  it  has  a  meaning  which  some  future  his- 
torian will  appreciate. 

The  Eree  Soil  party  have  been  plain  and  explicit  as  the 
Democrats ;  they  published  their  creed  in  the  celebrated  Buf- 
£eJo  Platform.  The  questions  of  Sub-treasury  and  Tariff  are 
set  aside ;  "  no  more  slave  territory  "  is  the  watchword.    In 

SH  they  represent  an  Interest,  for  slavery  is  an  injury  to  the 
orth  in  many  ways,  and  to  a  certain  extent  puts  the  North 
in  the  hands  of  the  South ;  — but  chiefly  an  Idea.  Nobody 
bought  they  would  elect  their  candidate,  whosoever  he  might 
he ;  they  could  only  arrest  public  attention  and  call  men  to 
ihe  great  questions  at  issue,  and  so,  perhaps,  prevent  the  evil 
which  the  South  was  bent  on  accomplishing.  This  they  have 
done  and  done  well.  The  result  has  been  highly  gratifying. 
•  It  was  pleasant  and  encoura^ug  to  see  men  ready  to  sacrifice 
their  old  party  attachments  and  their  private  interests,  oft- 
times,  for  the  saJce  of  a  moral  principle.  We  do  not  mean  to 
say  that  there  was  no  moral  principle  in  the  other  parties  — 
ire  know  .better.  But  it  seems  to  us  that  the  Free  SoHeis 
oommitted  a  great  error  in  selecting  Mr.  Van  Buren  as  their 
candidate.  True,  he  is  a  man  of  ability,  who  has  held  ttie 
lugbest  offices  and  acquitted  himself  honorably  in  all ;  but  he 
liad  been  the  "  northern  man  with  southern  principles ; "  had 
lihown  a  degree  of  subserviency  to  ike  South  which  was  m- 


124  The  Free  SM  Movement.  [Dec. 

markable,  if  not  ^galar  or  strange :  his  promise,  made  and 
repeated  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  to  veto  any  act  of  Con- 
gress abolishing  slavery  in  the  capital,  was  an  insult  to  the 
country  and  a  disgrace  to  himself.  He  had  a  general  repu- 
tation for  instability  and  want  of  political  finmiess.  It  is 
true,  he  had  opposed  the  annexation  of  Texas,  and  lost  his 
nomination  in  1844  by  that  act ;  but  it  is  also  true  that  he 
advised  his  party  to  vote  for  Mr  Polk,  who  was  notoriously  in 
favor  of  annexation.  His  nomination,  we  must  confess,  was 
unfortunate ;  the  BuffiU o  convention  seems  to  have  looked  at 
hb  availability  more  than  his  fitness,  and  in  their  contest  for  a 
principle  began  by  making  a  compromise  of  that  very  principle 
itself.  It  was  thought  he  could  "  carry  "  the  state  of  New 
York ;  and  so  a  man  who  was  not  a  fair  representative  of  the 
Idea  was  set  up.  It  was  a  bad  beginning.  It  is  better  to  be 
defeated  a  thousand  times  rather  than  seem  to  succeed  by  a 
compromise  of  the  principle  contended  for.  Still,  enough  has 
been  done  to  show  the  nation  that  the  dollar  is  not  almighty ; 
that  the  South  is  not  always  to  insult  the  North  and  rule  tiie 
land,  annexing,  plundering,  and  making  slaves  when  she  will ; 
that  the  North  has  men  who  will  not  abandon  the  great  Senti- 
ment of  Freedom,  which  is  the  boast  of  the  nation  and  the  age. 

Greneral  Taylor  is  elected  by  a  large  popular  vote ;  some 
voted  for  him  on  account  of  his  splendid  military  success;  some 
because  he  is  a  slave-holder  and  true  to  the  interests  of  the 
Slave  Power ;  some  because  he  is  a  "  good  Whig"  and  wants  a 
high  TariflF  of  duties.  But  we  think  there  are  men  who  gave 
him  their  support  because  he  has  never  been  concerned  in  the 
intrigues  of  a  part^,  is  indebted  to  none  for  past  favors,  is 
pledged  to  none,  bribed  by  none,  and  intimidated  by  none ;  be- 
cause he  seems  to  be  an  honest  man,  with  a  certain  rustic  in- 
telligence ;  a  plain  blunt  man,  that  loves  his  country  and  man- 
kind. We  hope  this  was  a  large  class.  K  he  is  such  a  man, 
he  will  enter  upon  his  office  under  favorable  auspices  and  with 
the  best  wishes  of  all  good  men. 

But  what  shall  the  Free  Soil  party  do  next  ?  they  cannot 
go  back, — Conscience  waves  behind  tiiem  her  glittering  winsg 
and  bids  them  on  ;  they  cannot  stand  still,  for  as  yet  their 
measures  and  their  watchword  do  not  fully  represent  their 
Idea.  They  must  go  forward,  as  the  early  abolitionists  went, 
with  tlus  for  their  motto :  No  Slavery  in  America.  "  He 
that  would  lead  men  must  walk  but  one  step  before  them ;  '* 
true,  but  he  must  think  many  steps  before  them,  or  they  will 


1848.]  The  Free  Soil  Movement.  125 

presently  tread  him  under  their  feet.  The  present  success  of 
the  Idea  is  doubtful.  The  Interests  of  the  South  will  demand 
tiie  extension  of  slavery,*  the  Interests  of  the  party  now  com- 

*  The  following  extract,  from  the  Charleston  Marcury^  shows  the  feeling  of 
the  Soath. — ''Parsaant  to  a  call,  a  meeting  of  the  dtizens  of  Orangebara 
district  was  held  to-day,  6th  November,  in  the  court  hoose,  which  was  weU 

filled  on  the  occasion Gen.  D.  F.  Jamison  then  rose,  and  moved 

the  appointment  of  a  committee  of  twenty-five,  to  take  into  consideration  the 
continaed  agitation  by  Congress  of  the  question  of  Slavery ;  ....  the 
Committee,  urongh  their  chairman,  Gen.  Jamison,  made  the  following  Report : 

**The  time  has  arrived  when  the  slaveholding  States  of  the  confederacy 
most  take  decided  action  upon  the  continued  attadcs  of  the  North  ajgainst  their 
domestic  institutions,  or  submit  in  silence  to  that  humiliating  position  in  the 
opinions  of  mankind  that  longer  acquiescence  must  inevitably  reduce  them  to. 
....  The  agitation  of  the  subject  of  Slavery  commenced  in  the  fanatical 
murmnrings  of  a  few  scattered  abolitionists,  to  whom  it  was  a  long  time  con- 
fined ;  but  now  it  has  swelled  into  a  torrent  of  popular  opinion  at  the  North ; 
it  has  invaded  the  fireside  and  the  church,  the  press  and  the  halls  of  legislation ; 
it  has  seized  upon  the  deliberations  of  Congress,  and  at  this  moment  is  sapping 
the  foundations,  and  about  to  overthrow  the  fairest  political  structure  that  the 
ingenuity  of  man  has  ever  devised. 

**  The  overt  eflforts  of  abolitionism  were  confined  for  a  long  period  to  annoy- 
ing applications  to  Congress,  under  color  of  the  pretended  nght  of  ])etition ; 
it  lias  since  directed  the  whole  weight  of  its  malign  influence  against  the 
annexation  of  Texas,  and  had  well  nigh  cost  to  the  country  the  loss  of  that 
important  province ;  but  emboldened  by  success  and  the  inaction  of  the  South, 
in  an  unjust  and  selfish  spirit  of  national  agrarianism  it  would  now  appropri- 
ate the  whole  public  domain.  It  might  well  have  been  supposed  that  the 
ondutorbed  possession  of  the  whole  of  Oregon  territory  would  have  satisfied 
the  non-sUvenolding  States.  This  they  now  hold,  by  the  incorporation  of  the 
ordinance  of  1787  into  the  bill  of  the  last  session  for  establishm|^  a  territorial 
government  for  Oregon.  That  provision,  however,  was  not  sustamed  by  them 
firom  any  apprehension  that  the  territory  could  ever  be  settled  fk^om  the  States 
of  the  South,  but  it  was  intended  as  a  gratuitous  insult  to  the  Southern  people, 
and  a  malignant  and  unjustifiable  attack  upon  the  institution  of  Slavery. 

"  We  are  called  upon  to  give  up  the  whole  public  domain  to  the  fanatical 
cravings  of  abolitionism,  and  the  unholy  lust  of  political  power.  A  territory, 
acquir^  by  the  whole  country  for  the  use  of  all,  where  treasure  has  been 
squandered  like  chaff,  and  Southern  blood  poured  out  like  water,  is  sought  to 
be  appropriated  by  one  section,  because  the  other  chooses  to  adhere  to  an 
iostitation  held  not  only  under  the  guaranties  that  brought  this  confederacy 
into  existence,  but  under  the  highest  sanction  of  Heaven.  Should  we  quietly 
fold  our  hands  under  this  assumption  on  the  part  of  the  non-slaveholding 
States,  the  fate  of  the  South  is  sealed,  the  institution  of  Slavery  it  gone,  and  its 

existence  is  but  a  question  of  time Tour  committee  are  unwilling 

to  anticipate  what  vrill  be  the  result  of  the  combined  wisdom  and  joint  action 
of  the  Southern  portion  of  the  Confederacy  on  this  question;  but  as  an 
initiatory  step  to  a  concert  of  action  on  the  part  of  the  people  of  South  Caro* 
lina,  they  respectfully  recommend,  for  the  adoption  of  this  meeting,  the  follow- 
ing resolutions: 

"  Bnolvtd,  That  the  continued  agitation  of  the  question  of  Slavery,  by  the 
people  of  the  non-sUveholding  States,  by  their  legislatures,  and  by  their 
representatives  in  Congress,  exhibito  not  only  a  want  of  national  courtesy, 
which  should  always  exist  between  kindred  States,  but  is  a  palpable  violation 
ci  good  faith  towards  the  slaveholding  States,  who  adopted  the  present 
Gonstitation  *  in  order  to  form  a  more  perfect  union.* 


126  Slwrt  Reviews  and  Notices.  [Dec. 

ing  into  power  will  demand  tiieir  peculiar  boon.  So  aoother 
compromise  is  to  be  feared,  and  the  extension  of  slaverj  yet 
further  west.  But  the  ultimate  triumph  of  the  Genius  of 
Freedom  is  certain.  In  Europe  it  shakes  the  earth  with 
mightj  tread ;  thrones  fall  before  its  conquering  feet.  ¥rhile 
in  the  eastern  continent  kings,  armies,  emperors,  are  impotent 
before  that  Power,  shall  a  hundred  thousand  slave-helders  staj 
it  here  with  a  bit  of  parchment  ? 


Art.  Vm.  — short  REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES- 

I.  —  Endymion:  A  Tale  of  Greece,  By  Henry  B.  Hirsx, 
Author  of  the  **  Penance  of  Roland,"  «  The  Funeral  of  Time," 
and  other  Poems.     Boston.   William  D.  Ticknor  &  Co.    184B. 

Ideal  love  !  The  story  of  the  mortal  swam  who  wooed  a; 
Groddess  and  was  loved  bj  her !  Endymion  and  the  Moon !  The 
Grecian  tale  cannot  grow  obsolete  so  long  as  human  hearts  and 
poetrj  and  love  are  mcts  of  life.  Every  youth  whose  soul  was 
ever  kindled  with  the  love  of  beauty,  and  ever  yearned  with 
boundless  aspiration,  has  or  has  had  an  Endymion  in  him,  and 
reads  the  tale  with  as  much  trembling  interest  as  he  might  the 
secret  of  his  own  heart,  were  he  to  find  it  in  the  public  prints 
some  morning,  delicately  told,  so  as  to  flatter  rather  than  betray. 
The  deepest  consciousness,  the  fairest  imaginings,  the  lofUest  am* 
bition,  the  profoundest,  tenderest  joy,  the  deepest  tragedy,  and  wild- 
est unrest,  —  indeed  the  whole  problem,  metaphysical  and  moroV 
of  human  life  and  destiny,  are  exquisitely  involved  in  this  antique 
fable.    It  is  classic  for  ever.     Happy  the  artist  or  the  poet  who 

**  Bitohed^  That  while  we  ac(|iuesce  in  adopting  the  boundary  between  the 
ria^idiolding  and  non-slavefaolding  States  known  as  the  Missonn  Compromiie 
Une,  we  will  not  snbmit  to  any  farther  restriction  npon  the  rights  of  any  South* 
em  man  to  carry  his  property  and  his  institutions  into  territory  acquired  by 
Soudiem  treanire  and  by  Southern  blood. 

**  BetohteLThtA  should  the  Wilmot  Proviso,  or  any  other  restriction,  b# 
iqsplied  by  Congress  to  the  territories  of  the  United  States,  south  of  36  degi 
30  min.  north  latitude,  we  recommend  to  our  Bepresentative  in  Congreasi  at 
the  decided  opinion  of  this  portion  of  his  district,  to  leave  his  seat  in  t£u  bodji 
and  return  home. 

"  RtBolvtdy  That  we  respectfully  suggest  to  both  houses  of  the  Legislatare 
of  South  Carolina,  to  adopt  a  similar  recommendation  as  to  our  Senatoia-  in 
Coi^vss  from  this  State. 

**■  EeMolvedy  That  upon  the  return  home  of  our  Senators  and  Benresentativey 
in  Gbngrcss,  the  Legislature  of  South  Carolina  should  be  forthwitii  asaemhicd 
to  adop^such  measures  as  the  ex^ncy  may  demand. 

**  The  Resolutions  were  then  submitted,  strtaltjii,  and,  together  with  tba 
Beport,  were  unanimously  adopted.'* 


1848.]  ShoH  B^mewB  and  Notices.  127 

can  reproduce  it  to  ns  in  its  liviog  beautj !  Keats  adopted  it,  and 
almost  breathed  out  his  own  passionate  life  in  it.  Now  a  rival 
has  sprung  up,  verilj  an  American  Endymion,  and  more  Grecian 
than  the  other,  however  you  may  find  them  compare  in  other 
respects.    Take,  for  instance,  the  very  first  stanzas : 

"  Through  a  deep  dell  with  mossy  hemlocks  girded — 
A  dell  by  many  a  sylvan  Dryad  prest,  — 
Which  Latmos'  Uyfij  crest 
Flmighalf  in  shadow — where  the  red  deer  herded  — 
While  mellow  murronrs  shook  the  forests  gray  — 
Endymion  took  his  way. 

''Like  clnstering  sun-light  Ml  his  yellow  tresses, 

Wiihpurple  fillet,  scarce  confining,  bonad, 

Winding  their  flow  around 

A  snowy  throat  that  drilled  to  their  caresses. 

And  trembling  on  a  breast  as  Indd  white 

As  sea-foam  in  the  night 

"  His  fluted  tunic  swelling,  yielding,  floated, 
Moulded  to  every  motion  of  his  form, 
And  with  the  contact  warm, 
Bound  charms  on  which  the  Satyrs  might  have  gloated 
Had  he  been  buskined  nymph ;  but,  being  man, 
They  loved  him  like  to  Pan.'* 

We  break  ofi*  here  abruptly,  for  no  reason  but  the  nnreasona- 
bleness  of  ofiering  selections,  specimens,  where  every  stanza  is 
essential  to  the  picture.  In  this  style  it  goes  on,  richer  and  more 
beautiful  at  every  step ;  every  verse  as  polished,  every  image  as 
distinct,  every  suggestion  brief  and  direct,  standing  in  organic 
unity  with  every  other,  and  all  bathed  in  the  wannest  atmosphere 
of  beauty.  The  hero  stands  before  you,  bold  and  beautiful  and 
statuesque.  Yet  we  must  dismember  the  living  whole,  by  tearing 
from  their  setting  and  presenting  a  stanza  or  two  more,  to  show 
Endymion  bathing  in  that  crystal  lake,  as  the  beach  rises  over 
him  wbtfully  watching. 

"  Endymion  yet  was  heated:  sudden  turning, 
He  loosed  the  clusters  of  his  hyacinth  hair. 
And  shook  them  on  the  air  ^ 
Laid  down  his  pi[)es ;  unbound  his  girdle,  burning 
The  while  with  August  heat  j  his  tunic  now 
He  drew  above  his  brow. 

**  There,  in  the  moon-liffht  radiantly  gleaming, 
Lovely  as  mom  he  rose ;  the  swelling  veins 
^  Seeming  like  purple  stains 
Along  his  limbs,  which,  like  a  star's,  were  streaming 
Serenest  light,  as  lustrously  ho  stood, 
Iteflected  in  the  flood. 

"  And  now,  her  purple  zenith  reaching,  brighter 

Than  ever  before,  reclined  the  Queen  of  Night, 
Enchanted  with  the  sight 
Of  one  whose  pure  and  perfect  form  was  whiter 
Than  Indian  pearl,  her  bosom's  frozen  mow 
KeHing  m  paasion's  glow. 


128  Short  Beviews  and  Notices.  [Dec. 

**  Slowlr  EndTmion  bent,  the  light  Elysian 

Flooding  his  figure.    Kneeling  on  one  knee 
He  loosed  his  sandals,  lea 
And  lake  and  wood -land  flittering  on  his  vision, 
A  fairy  landscape,  bnght  and  beauUM 
With  Venns  at  her  fnll. 

'^Hia  milky  feet  gleaming  in  emerald  grasses ; 

The  moon-beams  trembling  on  his  whiter  neck; 
His  breast  without  a  speck ; 
While  the  dense  woods  around,  the  mossy  masses 
Of  rudest  rock,  the  bronzed  and  Titan  trees 
Looking  on  Latmian  leas, 

"  Assumed  from  him  an  aspect  soft  and  holy ; 
For,  like  a  naked  God,  the  shepherd  youth 
Stood  in  his  simple  truth. 
At  last,  with  gentle  steps  retiring  slowly. 

He  paus^  beside  a  rude,  rough  laurel  brake, 
A  bow-shot  from  the  lake. 

"  White-footed,  then  he  passed  the  crimson  clover 
Like  a  swift  meteor  gleaming  on  the  night, 
Streaming  in  silver  light. 
His  arms  uplifted  and  his  hands  flung  over 
His  noble  head ; — a  sinele  spring  he  gave, 
Then  flashed  beneatn  the  wave. 

'*  Down,  as  he  sank,  a  flood  of  yellow  glory 

Shot  from  the  moon,  as  if  the  moon  had  drooped 
And  on  the  mountain  stooped ; 
And  soon  the  sphere  itself,  grown  gray  and  hoary. 
Its  essence  gone,  slid  slowly  *neath  a  cloud 
That  wrapped  it  like  a  shroud. 

"  Then,  like  a  ghost  of  some  unwedded  maiden, 

On  whose  pale  lips  life  seemed  to  strive  with  death. 
Hushing,  as  'twere  her  breath, 
A  glorious  figure,  wreathed  with  vapor  laden 

With  delicate  odors,  stood  with  yearning  eyes. 
Waiting  Endymion's  rise : 


'*£ndymion  rose  and  on  the  water  lying 

Tlung  out  his  arms,  sank,  rose  and  sank  again ; 
Fale  Dian  in  her  pain, 
(For  it  was  Dian's  self  who  watched  him,)  sighing. 
While  gazing  on  him,  and  her  breath  came  short 
And  heavy  from  her  heart 

"  She  saw  not  Eros,  who  on  rosy  pinion 

Hung  in  the  willow's  shadow — did  not  feel 
His  subtle,  searching  steel 
Piercing  her  very  soul,  though  his  dominion 

Her  breast  had  grown ;  and  what  to  her  was  heaven 
If  from  Endymion  riven  ? 

"Nothing;  for  love  flowed  in  her,  like  a  river. 

Flooding  the  banks  of  wisdom ;  and  her  soul, 
Losmg  its  self-control, 
Waved  with  a  va^e,  uncertain,  tremulous  quiver; 
And,  like  a  lily  in  the  storm,  at  last 
She  sank  'neath  passion'a  blast** 


1848.]  Short  Meviewa  and  Notices.  129 

These  stanzas  are  a  fair  sample  of  the  stjle  of  the  whole  four 
cantos,  —  cantos  which  only  disappoint  you  by  their  brevity  and 
win  you  back  to  re-perusal.  Glossy  and  symmetrically  rounded 
are  they  as  the  Grecian  marble,  clipping  with  their  wise  bounds 
a  wealth  of  beauty  not  easily  exhausted.  Hence  we  call  the 
poem  Grecian,  because  it  is  not  diffuse  and  limitless  like  Keats's, 
but  so  direct,  bold,  simple,  and  objective.  Here  the  creative  im- 
pulse does  not  overflow  its  banks,  as  in  the  case  of  Keats ;  it  is 
confined  within  its  own  severe  symmetric  channel^  and  observes 
the  unity  of  Art  The  imagination  of  this  poet  does  not  riot,  as 
Keats  did,  and  pursue  in  its  vague  and  greedy  plan  the  whole  sub- 
terranean, sub-marine  labyrinth  and  wilderness  of  kindred  mythol- 
ogy, exhausting  you  with  the  very  fever  of  Endymion's  dream. 
It  beholds  Endymion  and  sets  his  marble  form  berore  you. 

As  to  Mr.  Hirst's  peculiar  treatment  of  the  story,  his  making  a 
Roman  of  his  hero,  and  bringing  him  back  to  a  repentant  practi- 
cality before  the  dinauement,  we  will  not  quarrel  with  him,  for 
he  so  clings  to  the  dream  in  the  dismissing  of  it,  that  really  we 
feel  its  empire  reestablished.  Keats  solves  the  knot  more  to  our 
mind  however,  who  makes  him  find  the  goddess  in  the  mortal  bride. 

Our  rambling  remarks  are  not  a  criticism.  We  mean  them  for 
a  recognition,  which  we  hope  they  may  convey  to  our  readers,  of 
a  genuine  poem.  Indeed,  a  more  artistic,  vital,  and  substantial 
product  of  the  poetic  temperament  has  seldom,  if  ever,  made  its 
appearance  among  this  practical  people.  It  has  the  healthy  glow 
of  a  creative  genius,  thoroughly  aroused  and  self-possessed.  Its 
rhythmic  form  is  a  sure  sign  of  life ;  spontaneous  music  true  to  se- 
verest laws  of  the  great  world-vibration.  Its  pulse  is  vigorous  and 
full.  The  measure  of  the  stanza  is  most  apt,  and  stimulates  tlie 
right  mood ;  we  dismiss  one  after  the  other  as  reluctantly  as  we 
do  the  waves  which  ripple  up  upon  the  pebbly  beach,  and  beau- 
tiful often  as  gems  are  the  single  words,  pictures  in  themselves, 
which  are  strung  together  in  those  musical  series. 


2.  —  Se  Jin  Kwei  Ouing  Tung  Tseuen  Ckeuen.  The  CampleU 
History  of  Se  Jin  Kwei :  or,  Oie  Conquest  of  Corea.  A  Novel. 
Transkted  from  the  Chinese,  by  Stanislas  Hebnitz,  late 
Attach^  of  the  United  States  Mission  to  China,  Member  of  the 
"  Institut  Historique  de  Paris,"  of  the  American  Oriental  Soci- 
ety, &c ,  &c,  &c 

The  above  is  the  title  of  a  work  making  four  small  volumes 
in  the  original  Chinese,  which  has  been  translated  by  the  acoora- 
plished  interpreter  to  the  American  Legation  to  China;  but  not 
yet  published  or  even  printed.    Some  ojf  our  readers  may  remem- 

xo.  V.  9 


130  bihort  lieviewu  and  Noticei.  [Dec. 

ber  the  course  of  lectures  on  China  delivered  by  Mr.  Hernitz,  a 
few  years  ago,  at  New  York,  and  be  ready  to  anticipate  a  good 
deal  of  pleasure  from  this  work.  We  will  not  give  an  analysis  of 
the  entire  work,  and  spoil  the  effect  of  the  novel  by  relating  the 
whole  of  its  plot ;  for  its  whole,  we  trust,  will  soon  be  laid  before 
the  public. 

*'  In  a  retired  and  peaceful  part  of  the  district  Lung  Mun,  in 
Keang  Chan  Fu,  in  the  province  of  Shan  Se,  there  was  a  village 
called  Se  Kea.  In  that  village  lived  a  very  wealthy  man,  whose 
name  was  Se  Han.  He  had  two  sons :  the  name  of  the  oldest 
was  Se  Heung,  that  of  the  younger,  who  was  then  about  thirty 
years  of  age,  was  Se  Ying.  After  the  death  of  the  old  man  the 
two  brothers  made  an  equal  division  of  the  heritage.  To  each 
fell  a  share  of  a  considerable  extent  of  rich  soil,  and  both  enjoyed 
in  their  neighbourhood  the  reputation  of  being  wealthy  gentlemen. 
Se  Ying  had  married  a  lady  called  Fan,  who,  when  she  was  in  her 
thirty-fifth  year,  dreamed  one  night  that  a  star  had  fallen  into  her 
lap.  Soon  afterwards  she  became  pregnant,  and  at  the  end  of  ten 
months  gave  birth  to  a  boy,  who  received  the  name  of  Te  Le,  with 
the  additional  designation  of  Jin  Kwei.  As  he  grew  up  the  boy 
never  uttered  a  word,  and  his  parents  were  apprehensive  he  would 
remain  dumb  for  life.    This  was  to  them  a  subject  of  great  sorrow." 

One  day  the  Emperor,  Tai  Tsung,  held  his  court,  and  the  Duke 
Sew  Mo  related  a  dream  portending  misfortune  to  the  empire. 
But  the  Emperor  also  had  a  dream,  of  the  same  import,  which  he 
told  as  follows :  — 

**  My  dream  was  a  strange  one,  indeed.  I  dreamed  I  had 
mounted  my  horse,  and,  unattended,  was  riding  out  of  the  camp. 
I  admired  the  scenery  before  me,  which  was  extremely  beautiful. 
After  a  short  while  I  looked  back,  when,  lo !  my  camp  had  disap- 
peared, and  I  perceived  a  strange  man  hastening  on  towards  me. 
He  wore  a  red  helmet,  was  clad  in  complete  armor  of  the  same 
color,  and  flourished  in  his  hand  a  red  copper  sword.  His  face 
was  of  a  green  hue,  and  bore  an  expression  of  extreme  ferocity. 
He  urged  the  steed  upon  which  he  was  mounted  to  the  utmost 
speed,  pushing  forward  with  the  evident  design  of  taking  my  life. 
I  immediately  called  out  for  assistance,  but  no  one  came.  In  this 
perilous  situation,  I  had  no  other  resource  but  to  whip  my  horse 
and  flee  for  my  life.  The  road  through  which  I  fled  was  hilly, 
steep,  and  dangerous,  but  still  my  pursuer  continued  after  me.  I 
came  to  the  shore  of  the  sea,  —  the  agitated  waves  were  rising  to 
the  skies.  There  was  no  road  left  for  me  to  escape,  and  my  heart 
was  ftill  of  agitation  and  terror.  In  this  extremity  I  rushed  into 
the  sea,  but  my  horse's  feet  soon  sank  in  the  muddy  bottom  near 
tlie  shore. 

« I  once  more  called  out  for  assistance,  and,  to  my  great  jov,  a 
warrior  made  his  appearance*    He  wore  on  his  head  a  white  hel- 


1848.]  8hoH  Eeview9  and  Notices.  181 

met,  was  clad  in  a  white  silken  war-dress,  was  mounted  upon  a 
white  steed,  and  held  in  his  hand  a  large  double-headed  spear. 
'  Sire,'  he  shouted  from  a  distance, '  be  not  alarmed ;  I  come  to 
the  rescue  of  your  majesty.'  He  immediately  fell  upon  my  pur- 
suer, attacked  him  vigorously,  and  afler  a  struggle  of  a  few  min- 
utes killed  him  with  a  thrust  of  his  spear.  My  heart  was  full  of 
joy ;  I  requested  my  deliverer  to  tell  me  his  surname  and  name, 
and  invited  him  to  accompany  me  to  the  camp,  where  I  would 
richly  reward  him  for  this  signal  service  with  promotion  to  a  high 
office  at  my  court.  But  he  excused  himself,  by  saying  that  he 
was  called  away  by  urgent  business,  and  could  not  accept  of  my 
invitation.  <  Upon  another  occasion,'  said  he,  *  I  will  again  appear 
to  save  your  majesty's  life,  but  now  I  must  depart'  I  continued, 
however,  to  urge  him  to  give  me  his  name  and  place  of  abode, 
that  hereafter  I  might  send  messengers  to  bring  him  with  honor 
to  the  capital,  and  promote  him  to  a  high  office.  He  replied  that 
he  could  recite  before  me  some  verses,  from  which  could  be  gath- 
ered his  surname,  name,  and  residence.  I  requested  to  hear  them, 
and  they  ran  as  follows :  — 

*  My  home  Is  far  away 
Where  the  red  dot  is  seen, 
Where  storms  rage  with  fury, 
And  fierce  winds  careen ; 
No  footstep  leaves  a  trace  behind, 
And  shadows  flit  unseen. 

In  my  infant  days, 
When  a  child  bat  three  years  old, 
My  merits  shone  conspicaoos ; 
.  I  did  snch  wit  nnfold 
That  my  worth  esteemed  was 
A  thousand  Uang  in  gold. 

In  future  I  may  be 

In  serving  my  native  land, 

The  saviour  of  my  Emperor's  life, 

When  he  will  cross  the  Eastern  Sea, 

To  commence  the  bloody  strife, 

And  assert  his  supremacy.* 

"  When  he  ceased  to  speak,  there  suddenly  arose  a  blue  dragon 
from  the  sea ;  his  immense  jaws  were  wide  open,  and  into  these 
the  warrior  and  his  horse  suddenly  sprang  and  disappeared.  How 
strange  and  wonderful !  exclaimed  I,  laughing  at  the  same  time 
at  his  singular  departure.  But  here  I  awoke,  and  found  that  the 
whole  had  been  but  a  dream.  I  know  not  whether  this  portends 
good  or  evil." 

The  Duke  thought  this  portended  a  war,  and  therefore  the 
hero  of  the  dream  must  be  found  out.  The  Duke  then  explains 
the  vision,  and  concludes  that  in  the  province  of  Shan  Se,  the  dis- 
trict of  Lung  Mun,  (Dragon's  Jaw)  the  man  must  be  found,  and 
that  his  name  must  be  Se  Jin  Kwei.     But  to  Jind  the  man 


132  Short  BeviewM  and  Notice$.  [Deo. 

was  the  next  difficulty,  and  the  Duke  prepared  to  send  thither  an 
able  officer  to  organize  an  army  of  one  hundred  thousand  men, 
for  the  hero  would  certainly  present  himself  amongst  them. 
Several  officers  presented  themselves  as  candidates  for  this  post 
of  honor,  and,  amongst  others,  General  Chang  S'z  Kwei,  the  com- 
mander of  the  vanguard  of  the  seventy-two  roads,  presented  him- 
self. Now  this  general  with  the  melodious  name  wished  his  son- 
in-law,  Ho  Tsung  Hien,  to  fill  the  office  of  the  visionary  hero,  and, 
ahready  conceiving  a  hatred  against  the  actual  Se  Jin  Kwei,  de- 
termined to  kill  him  if  he  should  ever  be  found;  with  this  inten- 
tion he  set  out  for  the  province  of  Shan  Se. 

By  and  by  it  appears  that  the  king  of  Corea  intends  to  invade 
the  Central  Empire;  the  king  is  in  a  great  rage,  intending 
iustantly  to  punish  the  rebellious  chief,  but  the  Duke  advises  him 
to  wait  till  the  Hero  is  discovered.  The  hero,  Se  Jin  Kwei,  re- 
mained entirely  dumb,  until  once  upon  a  time,  in  his  tenth  year, 
whilst  asleep  in  his  father's  library,  he  dreamed  he  saw  a  white 
tiger  enter  the  room,  beating  his  ribs  with  his  tail ;  he  woke  up  and 
cried  out  "  Ah  me ! "  and  ever  after  had  the  art  of  speech,  but  his 
father  and  mother  both  died«  in  consequence  of  the  visit  of  the 
white  tiger.  After  their  death  Jin  Kwei  applied  himself  to  study 
the  arts  of  war,  "  bending  the  bow,  and  riding  the  horse."  But 
by  the  time  he  had  mastered  *'  the  eighteen  branches  of  military 
science,"  he  had  spent  all  his  patrimony,  which  was  considerable. 
He  was  reduced  to  the  last  extremity  of  want ;  applied  to  his  rich 
unde,  Se  Hung,  who  only  turned  him  out  of  doors.  Then  Jin 
Kwei  in  despair  made  a  rope  of  rushes  and  hung  himself  by  the 
neck,  bnt,  before  life  was  extinct,  a  man  in  humble  circumstances, 
by  name  Mo  Sang,  came  and  took  him  down,  conducted  him  to  his 
own  home,  and  adopted  him  as  a  brother.  At  length  he  goes  to 
work  as  a  day  laborer  for  a  wealthy  man  called  Lew,  who  is 
building  a  palace,  —  and  is  so  prodigiously  strong  that  he  carries 
three  immense  logs  at  a  time,  one  on  his  shoulders  and  one  under 
each  arm.  In  the  winter  he  is  set  to  watch  the  buildings,  and 
has  a  hut  of  straw  built  near  the  palace.  Now  Lew  had  a 
beautiful  daughter,  rejoicing  in  the  name  of  Kin  Hwa,  and  one 
day  she  saw  Se  Jin  Kwei,  and  fell  in  love  with  him.  So  one 
night,  in  pity  for  his  sufferings  in  his  straw  hut,  when  the  snow 
was  deep  and  the  weather  devouringly  cold,  she  dropped  out  of 
her  window  a  piece  of  cloth,  which  fell  upon  the  sleeping  youth. 
It  was  dark  when  this  was  done,  and  she  knew  not  what  cloth  it 
was  she  had  thus  bestowed  upon  him.  But  in  the  morning  the 
father,  old  Mr.  Lew,  finds  his  servant  wrapped  in  an  elegant  scar- 
let cloth,  which  he  had  bestowed  upon  his  daughter.  He  accuses 
her  of  the  basest  conduct,  and  threatens  to  kill  her.  Jin  Kwei 
flees  off  for  his  life.  Dame  Lew^  the  mother,  gets  a  servant  to 
throw  a  great  earthen  jar  into  the  well,  and  then  all  pretend  it  is 


1848.]  Short  Beuiewi  and  N^Um.  183 

the  daughter  who  has  thrown  herself  there.  In  the  mean  time 
she  escapes  with  an  old  nurse  and  three  hundred  pieces  of  silver. 
Now,  as  fortune  will  have  it,  Miss  Kin  Hwa  and  the  nurse  8t<^ 
to  pass  the  night  in  an  old  bouse  where  Mr.  Jin  Kwei  lay  con- 
cealed. He  overheard  the  young  maiden's  conversation,  and  there- 
by learned  how  he  had  obtained  his  scarlet  cloth.  The  nurse  pro- 
posed that  he  should  conduct  his  benefactress  to  his  home  —  but 
alas  I  he  had  no  home  save  a  chance  lodging  in  a  neglected  brick- 
kiln ; — then  that  he  should  marry  her.  At  this  proposition  of  the 
old  nurse.  Kin  Hwa  rejected  within  herself;  she  confessed  to  herself 
that  when  she  threw  the  scarlet  cloth  on  Jin  Kwei  she  bad  done  so 
really  from  a  feeling  of  affection  for  him.  The  advice  she  had  just 
received  was  therefore  in  accordance  with  her  own  desires,  but 
she  thought  it  was  unbecoming  in  a  young  lady  to  speak  out  her 
mind  freely  upon  such  a  subject.  She  therefore  modest^  hung 
down  her  head  and  made  no  reply.  Jin  Kwei  objects  to  the 
proposition,  but  at  length  is  prevailed  on  to  take  the  maiden  in  his 
arms  to  his  brick-kiln  and  then  marry  her.  When  there  he  meets 
his  adopted  brother  Mo  Sang,  who  again  is  a  friend  in  need,  and 
supplies  the  wants  of  the  wedded  pair.  Jin  Kwei  remains  in  his 
brick-kiln  till  the  money  is  all  spent,  and  then,  as  the  wife  suggests 
he  should  do  something  to  earn  their  bread,  he  takes  to  shooting 
wild  geese,  and  is  so  skilful  an  archer  that  he  shoots  an  arrow 
down  the  throat  of  the  birds,  and  thus  kills  his  game  without  ruf- 
fling a  feather.  After  continuing  for  a  while  in  this  business,  he 
learns  that  General  Chung  S'z  Kwei  has  come  into  the  province 
for  the  sake  of  raising  an  army.  He  meets  with  an  old  friend, 
Chan  Tsing,  and  the  two  go  to  ofibr  themselves  as  volunteers,  aller 
Jin  Kwei  has  taken  a  leave  of  his  wife,  whose  condition  renders 
his  absence  painful.  The  two  friends  send  in  their  cards  to  the 
general.  Jin  Kwei  arrayed  himself  in  garments  borrowed  from  his 
friend.  **  He  covered  his  head  with  a  white  silken  cap,  on  his 
body  he  put  a  war  robe  of  white  sarsnet,  shod  his  feet  with  black 
leather  shoes,  and  completed  his  costume  with  all  the  other  neces- 
sary articles.  His  face  was  covered  with  a  fine  down,  his  nose 
was  straight,  his  mouth  large,  garnished  with  teeth  of  snowy 
whiteness ;  his  ears  were  long,  his  eyes  bright  surmounted  by 
beautiful  eyebrows ;  his  height  was  about  ten  cubits,  and  his  whole 
appearance  bespoke  a  young  hero."  Chan  Tsing  was  examined 
and  admitted  to  the  army  as  a  volunteer,  and  immediately  raised 
to  the  rank  of  a  standard-bearer.  Jin  Kwei  sent  in  his  card,  with 
this  inscription :  ^'  Card  of  a  volunteer.  Se  Jin  Kwei,  a  native 
of  the  district  of  Lung  Mun,  Keang  Chan  Fu,  in  the  province  of 
Shan  Se."  When  the  general  read  the  words,  he  remembered 
the  name  of  the  visionary  man,  and  resolved  to  be  rid  of  so  for- 
midable a  rival.  So  when  Jin  Kwei  presented  himself,  the  gen- 
eral ordered  him  to  be  beheaded,  on  the  plea  that  he  had  ti^en 


184  Short  Beviews  and  NbHcea.  [pee. 

the  name  of  his  commaoder  —  KtveL  After  much  entreaty  his 
life  is  spared,  but  he  is  forced  to  flee  from  the  camp.  He  wanders 
on  in  despair,  till,  overtaken  bj  night,  he  seeks  shelter  in  a  house 
brilliantly  illuminated.  The  owner  receives  hun  kindly.  "  May 
I  respectfully  ask,"  said  Jin  Kwei,  "  what  is  your  honorable  sur- 
name and  name  ?"  "  My  name,"  replied  the  host,  *<  is  Fan,  and 
my  surname  Hung  Hae,  and  I  possess  great  wealth,  but  I  have 
no  male  issue."  It  presently  appears  that  Mr.  Fan  Hung  Hae  is 
about  to  give  his  only  daughter,  Seu  Hwa,  in  marriage  to  a  famous 
robber,  Le  King  Hung,  who  with  his  brothers,  Keang  Hing  Pa 
and  Keang  Hwan  Pan,  called  themselves  Ta  Wang,  (great  kings) 
and  ravaged  all  that  part  of  the  country.  Neither  the  father  nor 
the  bride  had  consented  to  the  marriage,  which  was  one  of  neces- 
sity, and  which  was  to  take  place  that  night.  Jin  Kwei  went 
out  to  meet  the  robbers,  who  came  with  a  great  army  to  celebrate 
the  nuptials,  conquered  them  and  made  them  prisoners.  He 
spares  their  lives,  and  makes  them  promise  to  go  and  join  the 
army  with  him.  The  host,  Fan  Hung  Hae,  offers  Jin  Kwei  his 
daughter  in  marriage.  But  Kwei  pleads  that  he  has  already  a 
wife;  that  is  no  objection,  says  the  father,  for  the  law  allows  three 
wives.  Kwei,  however,  obtains  a  respite  for  two  years,  and  leaves 
his  *'  many  colored  girdle  "  as  a  token  of  his  engagement,  and  de- 
parts to  the  army  with  the  three  robbers,  who  have  now  sworn 
eternal  fraternity  with  their  conqueror.  Here  we  will  leave  the 
book,  only  adding  that  the  translation  is  made  into  easy  and  rath- 
er beautiful  language.  We  hope  soon  to  see  the  work  laid  before 
the  public. 


3.  —  A  Chmplete  Dictionary  of  English- German  and  German- 
EngHsh  Languages,  Containing  all  the  words  in  general  use, 
in  two  volumes.  Vol.  I.  English-Grerman ;  Vol.  II.  German- 
English.  Compiled  from  authors  of  established  reputation,  and 
exhibiting  the  pronunciation  of  every  word,  according  to  Walker, 
Smart,  and  other  prominent  English  orthoepists.  By  Dr.  J.  6. 
Flttgel,  Consul  of  the  United  States  of  America.  Third  edi- 
tion. Leipsic  1847.  2  vols.  8vo.  pp.  lxxxii.  and  1656, 
and  viii.  and  1274. 

Dr.  FlUgel  is  well  known  to  the  American  and  European  public 
by  the  two  previous  editions  of  his  dictionary  published  at  Leipsic, 
and  by  the  scandalous  and  piratical  reprints  of  it  elsewhere.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  mention  an  author  whose  works  have  been  so 
shamefully  pirated  as  his ;  nor  is  this  all :  but  the  men  who  pilfered 
his  gold  were  not  satisfied  with  the  theft,  but  fell  to  abusing  him, 
and  declared  that  the  gold  was  of  their  own  minting,  while  in  his 
treasury  there  was  nothing  better  than  brass,  or  so  lasting  as  that. 


1848.]  Short  Memetvs  and  Natiees.  135 

However,  the  excellent  author  knows  how  to  expose  these  dishon- 
est writers,  who  have  added  particular  insult  to  general  injury ; 
though  he  cannot  prevent  the  knaves  from  pilfering  the  results  of 
his  indefatigable  labors. 

The  present  work  is  invaluable  as  a  help  to  the  German  who 
wishes  to  gain  a  knowledge  of  English ;  or  the  English  scholar 
who  studies  Grerman.  There  is  scarce  a  word  or  a  phrase  in  the 
English  tongue  which  is  not  found  in  this  dictionary.  The  Eng- 
lish-German part  contains  about  135,000  articles.  Obsolete  words, 
which  are  yet  found  in  writers  now  extensively  read,  have  been 
diligently  studied,  and  happily  united  to  their  corresponding  Ger- 
man terms ;  technical  words,  used  only  in  the  various  arts  or  sci- 
ences, or  which  belong  to  military  or  maritime  affairs,  are  carefully 
noted  and  explained.  Words  which  have  not  yet  become  classic, 
but  are  coming  into  the  permanent  literature,  through  the  broad 
channels  of  newspapers  and  other  periodicals ;  provincial  words 
or  forms  of  expression,  which,  though  sometimes  not  much  used 
in  conversation,  yet  find  their  way  into  books ;  Americanisms, 
which  spring  up  in  abundance  in  New  England,  and  still  more 
at  the  South  and  West  —  all  these  have  been  carefully  studied. 

In  each  article  he  gives  first  the  proper  or  real  meaning  of  the 
word,  and  then  the  derivative  signification^  the  metaphorical  sense, 
and  so  passes  on  to  the  various  sefises  in  which  it  is  used :  the 
more  remote  senses,  which  differ  often  a  good  deal  from  the  primi- 
tive meaning,  are  carefully  preserved  and  indicated  by  their  ap- 
propriate German  words.  We  find  words  in  Dr.  Fliigers  work 
which  we  seek  in  vain  in  other  dictionaries,  —  such,  for  example, 
Bs/eck,  an  English  provincial  term  for  the  third  stomach  of  rumi- 
nating animals,  and  wride,  another  provincial  term  for  a  bunch  of 
stalks  that  grow  out  of  a  single  grain  of  com,  but  which  one  is  glad 
to  see,  as  they  have  no  synonyms  in  the  language,  and  besides, 
they  would  puzzle  a  German,  if  he  should  find  them  in  a  book. 
Dr.  Fliigel  has  taken  great  pains  to  indicate  by  Walker's  method 
the  pronunciation  of  every  word ;  in  this  he  follows  the  best  guides, 
and  in  general  seems  quite  successful.  We  have  been  surprised 
at  some  criticisms  of  his  pronunciation  which  have  been  shown  to 
us.  A  distinguished  English  orthoepist,  Mr.  Smart,  maintains 
heir  should  be  pronounced  with  the  aspirate  hare  ;  and  thinks  Dr. 
FlUgel  mistaken  in  finding  a  difference  between  the  sound  of 
JPay^er  and  Pair,  where  the  London  authority  recognizes  none. 

The  work  is  the  result  of  the  most  extensive,  careful,  and  labo- 
rious study  of  the  English  language,  as  it  is  developed  in  the  an- 
cient and  modem  literature  of  both  continents ;  it  is  printed  with 
great  neatness  and  surprising  accuracy, —  indeed,  the  proof-sheets 
were  read  five  times  by  as  many  different  persons ;  it  supplies 
the  want  which  has  long  been  felt,  and  entitles  its  learned  and 
estimaUe  author  to  the  lastii^  gratitude  of  the  two  most  widely 


136  List  of  New  Publications  Received.  [Dec. 

extended  Dations  of  the  western  world.  Long  may  he  rejoice  in 
his  labors,  and  thus  receive  the  twofold  reward  he  so  richly  merits 
—  a  pecuniary  compensation  and  the  honor  of  producing  a  work 
which  can  introduce  the  two  nations  to  the  literary  treasures  of 
the  Grerman  and  English  tongue. 


LIST  OF  NEW  PUBLICATIONS  RECEIVED. 

An  Appeal  to  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions, 
by  Rev.  J.  L.  Merrick,  twelve  years  in  the  senrice  of  the  Board.  Springfield. 
1847.    8vo.    pp.126. 

An  Appeal  to  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions 
flpom  the  unjust  and  oupressive  measures  of  the  Secretary  ana  Prudential 
Committee,  by  Rev.  J.  I>.  Baxter,  D.  D.    New  Haven.    1848.    8vo.    pp.  40. 

An  Oration  delivered  before  the  Society  of  Phi  Beta  Kappa  at  Cambridge, 
August  24th,  1848,  by  Horace  Bushnell.    Cambridge.    1848.    8vo.    pp.  40. 

The  Least  of  Two  Evils,  a  Sermon  Preached  on  Julv  9th,  1848,  by  John 
Weiss,  Minister  of  the  First  Congregational  Church  in  New  Bedford.  New 
Bedford.    1848.    12ma    pp.  12. 

Communication  to  the  American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Sciences  relative  to 
a  late  Report  on  the  subject  of  Ventilation  and  Chimney-Tops,  by  Frederick 
Emerson.    Boston.    1848.    8vo.    pp.  12. 

Friends  in  Council,  a  Series  of  Readings  and  Discourses  thereon.  Hook  the 
First.    London.    Vol.  I.    12mo.    pp.  viii.  and  228. 

The  Conquerers  of  the  New  World  and  their  Bondmen,  being  a  Narrative 
of  the  Principal  Events  which  led  to  Negro  Slavery  in  the  West  Indies  and 
volu 


America.  Volume  the  First,  [by  the  author  of  the  preceding  work.]  Lon- 
don. 1848.  Vol  I.  12mo.  pp.  xii.  and  264.  [These  are  two  delightful 
and  instructive  works.] 

Poems  by  Dora  Greenwell.  London.  1848.  1  vol.  16mo.  pp.  ti.  and  192. 

Madonna  Pia,  and  other  Poems,  by  James  Greeor  Grant  London.  2  vols. 
12mo.  pp.  XII.  and  320,  and  xiv.  and  360.  [These  two  volumes,  piint- 
ed  with  all  the  beauty  of  the  English  press,  are  dedicated  to  Bilr.  Wordsworth, 
by  an  author  who  seems  to  be  a  young  man,  and  an  earnest  admirer  of  that 
poet    The  volumes  contain  a  few  pieces  of  considerable  merit] 

The  System  of  Nature,  or  Laws  of  the  Moral  and  Physical  World,  by  Baron 
d'  Holbach.    2  volumes  in  one.    Boston.    1848.    8vo.    pp.  x.  and  368. 

The  Son  of  the  Wilderness,  a  Dramatic  Poem,  in  five  acts,  by  Frederick 
Halm,  [Baron  Miinch-Bellinghausen,]  translated  from  the  German  by  Charles 
Edward  Austin.    New  York.    1848.    12mo.    pp.  vii.  and  166. 

Verses  of  a  Life  Time,  by  Caroline  Gilman,  &c.,  &c  Boston  and  Cam- 
bridge.    1  vol.    12mo.    pp.  Till,  and  264. 

A  Discourse  delivered  before  the  First  Congregational  Society  of  Cincin- 
nati, Sunday,  Oct.  8th,  1848,  by  James  H.  Perkins.   CincinnaU.   1848.    pp.  16. 

The  Mysteries  of  Russia,  by  Frederick  Lacroix,  translated  from  the  French, 
Boston.    1848.    1vol.    8vo."   pp.212. 

An  Universal  History  in  a  Series  of  Letters,  being  a  complete  and  impar- 
tial narrative  of  the  most  remarkable  Events  of  all  nations,  from  the  earliest 
period  to  the  present  time,  forming  a  complete  History  of  the  World,  by  Q.  C. 
Hebbe,  LL.  D.  VoL  I.  Ancient  History.  New  York.  1848.  Vol.  L  pp. 
Till,  and  562.    8vo. 

Orators  of  the  American  Revolution,  bv  E.  L.  Bfagoon.  2d  Edition.  New 
York.    1848.    1  vol.  12mo.    pp.  xyi.  and  456. 

Ancient  Sea  Margins,  as  Memorials  of  Changes  in  the  relative  Level  of  Sea 
and  Land,  by  Robert  Chambers,  Esq.,  F.  R.  S.  E.  Edinburgh  and  London. 
lft4H.    8to.    pp.  vi.  and  ."WS. 


0 


MASSACHUSETTS  QUARTERLY  REVIEW, 

NO.  VI.  — MARCH,   1849. 

^  km.   I.  — THE  GERMAN   REVOLUTION   OF  1848. 

The  year  eighteen  hundred  and  forty-eight  will  be  hence- 
forth, in  the  history  of  Europe,  the  normal  year  to  which 
scholars,  legislators,  and  nations  will  refer,  as  the  date  when 
a  new  phase  in  the  social  and  political  life  of  nations  began ; 
as  the  period  when  a  new  foundation  was  laid  for  rights  and 
obligations  forming  the  basis  of  public  and  civil  laws ;  and  as 
an  epoch  from  which  the  years  of  the  people's  emancipation 
will  be  reckoned.  The  number  "forty-eight"  has  already 
acquired  an  importance  for  the  student  and  statesman,  as  a 
mark  in  the  history  of  the  transatlantic  nations,  and  more 
especially  of  that  of  Germany.  It  was  in  the  year  1648  that 
the  memorable  Peace  of  Westphalia  was  concluded,  which  put 
an  end  to  the  fatal  war  that  for  thirty  years  had  laid  waste  the 
whole  of  Germany,  and  which  established  a  new  system  of 
state-rights  and  policy  among  the  reigning  princes.  Although 
religion  had  been  ^e  pretext  under  which  the  rulers  had 
called  upon  the  people  to  take  up  arms  and  shed  their  blood, 
yet  the  stipulations  of  the  treaty  of  peace  showed  their  true 
design  to  have  been  personal  aggrandizement  and  absolute 
power,  without  regarding  the  people,  who  together  with  their 
lands  were  ^posed  of  uke  goods  and  chattels.  In  glaring 
contrast  with  this,  the  year  1848  shows  the  people  rising, 
demanding  and  obtaining  their  sovereign  independent  power, 
and  crowns  and  sceptres  and  thrones  diisposed  of  as  goods  and 
chattels  fit  only  for  collections  of  curiosities  and  antiquities. 
Retributive  Justice  seems  to  have  chosen  the  very  year  of  the 
two  hundredth  anniversarr  of  the  triumph  of  the  Princes  over 
the  Germanic  Union,  to  vmdicate  its  own  immutable  laws,  and 

NO.  VI.  10 


188  The  German  Bevolution  of  1848.         [March, 

to  show,  by  a  contrast  the  more  strikingly  impressive,  that 
wrong  committed  will  be  its  own  avenger. 

Of  all  the  revolutions  which  this  last  year  has  seen,  that  in 
Germany  deserves  the  greatest  consideration,  and  more  than 
has  been  generally  bestowed  upon  this  nation  in  a  political 
respect.  When  quiet,  sober  Germany  suddenly  arouses  from 
its  political  lethargy ;  when  we  see  a  country  which  has  here- 
tofore been  known  abroad  only  bv  its  literature  and  art,  but 
which,  for  the  last  two  centuries,  has  hardly  been  heard  of  in 
politics,  except  in  a  few  of  its  component  parts,  as  Prussia 
and  Austria,  so  that  persons  often  ask  in  wonder  whether  a 
Prussian  is  a  German,  —  when  we  see  this  nation  of  forty  mil- 
lions of  souls  at  last  rise  in  its  might  and  awake  into  a  living 
consciousness  of  its  existence,  as  one  and  indivisible,  and  of 
its  rights  as  such  by  nature  and  nature's  law,  —  then  the 
attention  of  even  the  most  indifierent  is  arrested.  We  are  led 
to  inquire  into  the  causes  that  have  produced  such  a  phenom- 
enon, which  is  evidently  more  than  a  mere  feverish  excitement 
accidentally  brought  on  by  some  restiess  spirits,  from  a  dedre 
of  notoriety  and  change.  The  apparent  suddenness  of  this 
great  commotion  of  the  people  may  have  led  some  to  suppose 
that  it  was  only  a  fitful  fever,  caught  by  contagion  from  a 
neighbouring  country ;  those,  however,  who  have  taken  an 
interest  in  the  life  of  this  nation,  cannot^  have  been  surprised 
at  the  popular  outbreak,  but  rather  that  it  did  not  take  place 
before.  As  a  vessel  filled  with  water,  which  is  chilled  through, 
requires  but  a  slight  concussion  to  change  the  fluid  into  one 
solid  mass  of  ice,  so  in  Germany  it  required  but  an  impulse 
from  without  to  make  the  political  atmosphere,  long  charged 
with  the  elements  of  a  violent  storm,  break  out  in  a  tempest 
which  would  shake  every  one  of  the  thirty-eight  states  to  its 
foundation. 

Political  revolutions  are,  no  doubt,  always  to  be  dreaded, 
as  great  temporary  social  evils,  and  those  who  pass  through 
them  are  regarded  as  martyrs  fi)r  future  generations.  But 
revolutions  must  not,  on  this  account,  be  condemned  as  mon- 
strosities, conceived  and  bom  of  evil,  as  many  seem  to  think, 
who  owe  the  blessings  they  now  enjoy  to  the  revolutions  their 
forefathers  accomplished.  A  sanctimonious  cry  of  '^  Law  and 
Order"  is  raised  on  all  such  occasions,  by  men  who  regard 
only  existing  artificial  laws,  established,  perhaps,  by  a  despotic 
power  in  bv-gone  ages,  and  entirely  disregard  or  overlook  the 
fact  that  there  is  a  law  immutable  and  unchangeable  as  the 


1849.]  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.  139 

stsurs  in  heaven,  and  existing  coeval  widi  the  universe  itself, 
namely,  ihe  Law  of  Nature.  If  this  law  be  violated  in  the 
physical  world,  it  avenges  and  restores  itself,  and  often,  too, 
by  violent  and  fwrmidable  outbreaks,  upheaving  all  the  ele* 
ments.  The  law  inherent  in  the  moral  world  follows  a  like 
course,  and  although  its  voice  may  for  a  time  be  muffled  and 
smothered,  it  will  at  last,  with  tones  of  thunder,  break  forth 
and  call  out,  "  Law  and  Order."  To  uphold  this  law  and 
order  is  true  conservatism. 

A  nation's  social  and  political  organization  must  be  in  per- 
fect accordance  with  its  peculiar  character  and  that  state  of 
development  which  it  has  reached  in  the  progressive  course 
of  the  desUny  of  man.  The  forms  of  a  state  and  its  laws 
must  be  the  natural  exponent  of  the  people's  spirit  and  genius 
and  its  human  development,  and  they  must  grow  out  of  these, 
but  cannot  and  must  not  be  engrafted  thereon  by  an  extrane- 
ous wilful  power.  The  gradual  changes  in  all  organic  bodies 
of  nature  follow  according  to  inherent  laws,  and  the  external 
forms  accommodate  themselves  to  the  development  of  the  liv- 
ing princi[Je  which  is  working  under  them.  If  we  try  to 
check  this  natural  growth,  the  violation  will  vindicate  itself, 
and  either  death  or  monstrosities  will  be  the  consequence. 
When  a  nation  has  outgrown  its  existing  political  and  social 
forms,  or  if  the  existing  suitable  and  fitting  forms  are  wilfully 
violated  and  changed,  the  living  spirit  working  beneath  them 
will  maintain  its  right  and  try  to  restore  itself.  This  effort 
we  call  a  Revolution,  and  as  such  we  do  not  only  deem  it 
justifiable,  but  unavoidable  and  demanded  by  the  Law  of  God. 

There  are  some,  however,  who  would  condemn  the  resort 
to  force  under  any  circumstances,  and  muntidn  that  love  and 
forbearance  are  the  only  weapons  that  should  ever  be  wielded. 
Undoubtedly  they  ought  to  rule  and  control  all  hearts,  all  class- 
es, and  all  nations ;  but  it  is  also  true,  that  where  these  do  not 
prevail,  there  they  ought  to  be  established.  The  field  must 
be  prepared  to  receive  costly  seed,  that  it  may  strike  root  and 
bear  fruit.  The  great  founder  of  the  kingdom  of  peace  and 
love  laid  down  his  life  for  the  Law  of  God^  and  every  one  who 
will  be  his  true  follower  must  be  willing  to  do  the  same,  when 
the  object  is  to  uphold  and  maintain  divine  laws.  The  most 
acrupidous  will  allow  the  justness  of  self-defence  by  force, 
when  life  and  limb  are  endangered,  and  should  the  same  priv- 
ilege be  denied  when  a  People's  life  and  existence  are  at 
stake? 


140  The  G-erman  Revolutim  of  1848.         [March, 

The  question,  whether  the  revolution  which  has  broken  out 
in  Germany  and  is  still  going  on,  is  justifiable,  desirable,  and 
necessary  on  the  ground  we  have  before  claimed  and  pro- 
nounced as  reasonable  and  just,  it  is  our  purpose  to  answer  by 
giving  a  brief  statement  of  the  political  condition  of  this  coun- 
try, and  this  principallv  by  facts,  so  that  every  one  may  draw 
his  own  conclusion,  and  form  an  answer  to  the  above  question 
himself;  but  we  must  plead,  in  the  beginning,  the  insufficiency 
of  our  space  for  a  perfect  statement  of  so  vast  a  subject. 

Since  the  general  watchword  in  Germany  is,  at  present, 
"  One  Germany,  one  empire  as  of  old,  and  a  constitutional 
representative  government,"  we  shall  begin  with  giving  a  brief 
outline  of  what  Germany  was  in  former  times,  when  it  was  yet 
called  an  empire,  and  when  it  was,  at  least  nominally,  a  con- 
federated state ;  we  shall  then  proceed  to  state  what  the  polit- 
ical condition  was  after  the  dissolution  of  the  empire,  and 
conclude  with  giving  the  plan  of  the  projected  umon  of  the 
new  empire  now  in  process  of  being  established. 

The  old  Germanic  empire  may  be  said  to  have  existed,  at 
least  nominally,  from  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  in  the  year 
800,  till  Francis  II.,  in  1806.  Charlemagne  was  the  first  who 
renewed  the  title  of  Caesar  (Kaiser)  or  Emperor,  when  he 
was  crowned  Roman  Emperor  in  the  year  800,  by  Pope  Leo 
III.,  at  Rome.  He  connected  with  this  title  the  claim  of 
universal  sovereignty  over  all  Christendom,  and  it  was  long 
considered  as  attached  to  the  sovereignty  of  Rome.  It  was 
therefore  given  to  the  oldest  son  of  Louis  the  Pious,  Lothaire, 
as  King  of  Italy,  and  was  afterwards  bestowed  upon  Charles 
the  Bald  and  other  Italian  princes,  until  Otho  I.,  in  962,  for 
ever  united  the  imperial  crown  with  the  German  royal  dignity. 
However,  until  Maximilian  I.,  the  tide  of  Roman  Emperor 
was  given  only  to  those  German  kings  who  were  crowned  by 
the  Pope,  otherwise  they  had  only  the  titie  of  Roman  King. 
After  Maximilian  had  called  himself,  for  the  first  time,  Roman 
Emperor,  the  German  kings  took  this  titie  without  having 
been  in  Rome.  The  last  German  king  who  was  crowned  in 
Italy  was  Charles  V. 

Among  the  Carlovingians,  the  German  crown  was  hereditary, 
but  after  their  extinction  it  became  elective,  and  the  German 
kings  were  chosen  by  all  the  princes  of  the  empire,  until,  in 
the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  the  elective  right  was 
•confined  to  certain  electoral  princes ;  this  distinctiy  appears  in 
1256,  at  the  election  of  Emperor  lUchard  of  Comwallis. 


1849.]  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.  141 

The  electoral  princes  were  those  of  Mayence,  Treves,  and 
Cologne,  —  as  the  first  archbishop  and  chancellors  of  the  em- 
pire,—  and  those  of  the  Palatinate,  alternating  for  a  time  with 
Bavaria,  and  of  Brandenburg,  Saxony,  and  Bohemia.  The 
other  princes  still  demanded  the  right  of  participating  in  the 
election,  but  the  electoral  princes  succeeded  in  maintaining  their 
exclusive  privilege,  until  Charles  IV.,  in  1356,  confirmed  it 
by  the  edict  called  the  Golden  Bull. 

The  qualifications  required  for  the  imperial  dignity  were  to 
be  of  legitimate  birth,  a  German,  at  least  eighteen  years  old, 
of  high  nobility,  at  least  a  count,  and  in  later  times  an  elec- 
toral prince,  not  a  clergyman,  and  not  an  infidel.  When  a 
person  of  such  qualifications  had  been  elected,  he  had  to  sign 
the  so  called  Capitulation,  or  compact  drawn  up  by  the  elec- 
toral princes,  which  began,  however,  first,  when  Maximilian 
proposed  his  grandson,  afterwards  Charles  V.  Hereupon  he 
was  crowned  as  German  King,  at  Aix  la  Chapelle,  and  in  later 
times  at  Augsburg  or  Regensburg,  and  for  the  most  part  at 
Frankfort  on  the  Maine,  by  bestowing  upon  him  the  imperial 
insignia,  namely,  the  golden  crown,  gilt  sceptre,  golden  globe, 
the  sword  of  Charlemagne  and  that  of  St.  Maurice,  the  ^t 
spurs,  the  dalmatica  and  other  robes ;  at  Milan  he  received 
an  iron  crown,  and  was  finally  crowned  at  Rome  by  the  Pope. 
This  last  ceremony  ceased,  as  we  have  said,  with  iiaximilian  I. 

The  college  of  electoral  princes  remained  the  same,  seven 
in  number,  till  the  Peace  of  Westphalia,  except  that  Bohemia, 
after  King  Wenzel  had  been  deposed  in  1400,  did  not  exer- 
cise her  right,  and  was  not  admitted  again  into  the  electoral 
college  till  1708.  When  the  Elector  Frederick  V.  of  the 
Palatinate  was  outlawed,  his  electoral  right  and  dignity  were 
transferred  to  Bavaria ;  but  at  the  Peace  of  Westphalia,  it 
was  stipulated  that  an  eighth  electoral  dignity  and  vote  should 
be  created  for  the  Palatinate,  on  condition  that  in  case  of  the 
extinction  of  the  Bavarian  Wilhemian  line,  the  Bavarian  elec- 
toral vote  should  fall  again  to  the  Palatinate,  and  the  eighth 
electorate  should  be  discontinued.  In  1692  a  ninth  electoral 
dignity  was  created  by  Leopold  I.,  who  made  Brunswick 
Luneburg  an  electorate,  but  it  was  not  admitted  into  the  col- 
lege till  1710,  after  a  long  resistance  on  the  part  of  the 
Estates  of  the  empire.  When,  in  1777,  the  Bavarian  line 
became  extinct  and  its  lands  fell  again  to  the  Palatinate,  the 
Bavarian  electoral  vote  ceased,  according  to  the  previous 
agreement,  and  hence  there  were  again  but  eight  votes. 


142  The  Q-erman  Revolution  of  1848.         [March, 

The  electoral  princes  had  privileges  which  the  other  Estates 
of  the  empire  dia  not  possess,  beside  their  exclusive  right  of 
electing  the  emperor.  They  had  royal  honors,  but  not  the 
title  "  majesty ;  "  they  were  not  subject  to  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  imperial  and  aulic  courts ;  their  lands  were  indivi^ble, 
and  they  held  their  regalia  without  investiture.  They  were 
called,  according  to  the  Golden  Bull,  "  the  seven  pillars  and 
lights  of  the  holy  empire ; "  they  could  give  advice,  even  when 
it  was  not  called  for,  and  could  recommend  matters  to  the 
emperor,  as  of  particular  urgency,  through  addresses ;  and, 
finally,  they  had  the  right  to  draw  up  "  the  capitulation  of 
election,"  of  which  we  shall  make  mention  presently.  The 
Elector  of  Mayence  was  arch-chancellor. 

By  the  Peace  at  Luncburg,  in  1801,  the  left  bank  of  the 
Bhme  was  ceded  to  France,  and  important  alterations  became 
necessary,  particularly  since  only  the  hereditary  princes  could 
receive  indemnification  from  the  German  empire.  On  the 
14th  of  July,  1802,  the  imperial  deputation  was  called  at 
Begensburg,  and  through  Russia  and  France  a  plan  of  indem- 
nification was  proposed,  by  which  only  one  ecclesiastical  elec- 
toral prince,  the  Archbishop  of  Mayence,  with  the  title  of 
Electoral  Prince  and  first  Chancellor  of  the  empire,  and  three 
new  secular  electoral  princes,  to  wit,  of  Baden,  Wurtemburg, 
and  Hesse  Cassel,  and  afterwards,  also,  Salzburg  and  the  new 
arch-chancellor,  were  admitted  into  the  electoral  college.  This 
took  place  on  the  22nd  of  August,  1803.  Thus  there  were 
now  ten  electoral  princes.  In  1805,  by  the  Peace  of  Prea- 
burg,  Bavaria  and  Wurtemburg  received  the  royal  tides,  but 
still  continued  to  be  parts  of  the  German  empire.  But  on 
the  12th  of  July,  1806,  at  Paris,  the  Rhenish  confederation 
was  established,  whereupon  Bavaria,  Wurtemberg,  the  Arch- 
chancellor,  and  Baden  broke  ofi*  their  connection  with  the  old 
German  union.  When  the  French  ambassador  declared  at  the 
Diet  at  Regensburg  that  Napoleon  no  longer  recognized  a 
German  empire,  and  that  he  had  taken  the  tide  of  Protector 
of  the  Rhenish  confederation,  Francis  II.,  on  the  Cth  of 
August,  1806,  laid  down  the  crown  as  German  Emperor,  and 
discharged  all  princes  and  states  from  their  further  allegiance 
and  duties  to  him  as  Emperor  of  Germany,  and  thus  the 
complete  independent  sovereignty  of  all  the  different  states 
was  formally  declared. 

The  constitution  of  the  German  empire,  which  thus  ended, 
may  be  sidd  to  have  been  principally  based  upon  five  imperisd 


1849.]  The  aerman  Revolution  of  1848.  148 

laws :  to  wit,  the  (Jolden  Bull  of  1356,  the  Permanent  Peace 
of  the  Land  of  1495,  the  Imperial  Capitulation  be^nning  with 
Charies  V.,  the  Religious  Peace  of  1555,  and  the  Peace  of 
Westphalia  in  1648.  The  import  of  these  edicts  or  laws  we 
will  now  briefly  state. 

The  Gh)lden  Bull  is  the  imperial  law  which  Charies  IV. 
issued  in  1356,  at  the  Diet  at  Nuremberg,  after  it  had  been 
discussed  bj  the  states.  It  contained,  in  thirty  chapters,  rules 
regarding  &e  electoral  princes  and  their  privileges,  and  par- 
ticularly those  of  the  king  of  Bohemia ;  and  regulations  of 
the  imperial  election  and  coronation,  of  the  currency,  tolls, 
and  feuds,  and  of  the  cities,  whose  further  increase  of  power, 
at  the  expense  of  princes  and  sovereigns,  Charles  wished  to 
check. 

The  Permanent  Peace  of  the  Land  was  the  law  made  and 
proclaimed  in  1495  by  Maximilian,  by  which  all  feuds  and 
personal  revenge  were  prohibited  under  a  fine  of  two  thousand 
marks  in  gold.  The  Estates  were  to  assemble  every  year  to 
maintain  the  peace  and  punish  offences  against  it ;  at  the  same 
time,  an  imperial  court  of  justice  was  established,  the  judges 
of  which  were  chosen  by  the  Estates  and  the  emperor,  before 
whom  subjects  might  enter  complaints  against  their  princes. 

The  Capitulation  of  Election  was  the  articles  of  agreement 
which  the  electoral  princes  drew  up  on  the  election  of  an 
emperor,  and  which  the  emperor,  before  entering  upon  his 
office,  swore  to  maintain.  The  first  capitulation  was  suomitted 
by  the  electors,  when  Maximilian  I.  proposed  his  grandson, 
Charles  V.,  as  emperor.  For  every  newly  elected  emperor  a 
special  capitulation  was  drawn  up,  called  '^  capitulatio  CEesa- 
rea,"  but  the  main  points  remained  the  same  ;  they  were  that 
the  emperor  should  take  care  of  the  church  and  the  Pope, 
protect  the  empire,  give  the  proper  protection  to  the  electoral 
and  other  princes,  and  leave  them  in  their  possessions  and 
rights  ;  that  he  should  undertake  nothing  without  the  consent 
of  the  Diet,  enter  into  no  compact  without  the  concurrence  of 
the  same,  support  the  police  and  commerce,  impose  no  new 
taxes,  keep  m  proper  order  the  mint  and  currency,  neither 
sell  nor  pledge  any  part  of  the  empire,  keep  the  stipulations 
of  tiie  Peace  of  Westphalia  in  force,  reside  in  (Germany,  if 
possible ;  not  suffer  foreign  powers  to  interfere  in  matters  of 
reli^on,  preserve  the  peace  of  the  land  and  the  mdependenoe 
of  the  judicial  authority,  and  the  imperial  postal  arrange* 
ments,  &c.    By  this  means  the  princes  secured  to  themselves 


144  The  German  Bevolution  of  1848.         [March, 

the  power  of  forcing  from  the  emperor  concessions  farorable 
to  their  own  independent  sway. 

The  Religious  Peace  at  Augsburg  was  concluded  at  the 
imperial  Diet,  held  at  this  city  in  1555.  The  import  of  this 
compact  between  the  Protestant  and  Catholic  princes  was, 
that  the  Protestants  should  enjoy  full  exercise  of  their  relig- 
ion and  remsdn  in  possession  of  all  the  sequestrated  ecclesi- 
astic estates.  Each  sovereign  should  have  the  right  to  es- 
tablish a  prevailing  religion  of  state,  but  should  allow  his 
subjects  of  a  diflferent  faith  to  emigrate.  Religious  contro- 
versies should  be  settled  in  a  peaceable  manner ;  and  ecclesi- 
astical jurisdiction  should  not  extend  to  and  have  power  over 
the  faith  and  divine  worship  of  the  Protestants.  The  reformed 
church  was,  however,  still  excluded,  and  this  compact  in- 
cluded only  the  Lutheran  church :  at  the  Peace  of  Westpha- 
lia the  Reformed  church  was  also  received  into  this  compact. 

The  Peace  of  Westphalia  of  1648  established,  besides  the 
adjustment  of  religious  controversies,  the  independent  sover- 
eignty of  the  individual  German  states,  which  made  the  im- 
perial power  dwindle  into  a  mere  shadow.  Each  prince  ob- 
tained the  right  to  make  war,  conclude  peace,  and  negotiate 
treaties  with  foreign  nations,  and  thus  the  bond  of  the  united 
empire  was  in  fact  rent  asunder,  though  the  imperial  title 
continued  to  linger  for  a  century  and  a  half.  The  diplomacy 
of  cabinets  now  commenced.  Each  prince  sought  only  his 
own  independence  in  his  own  territory,  regardless  of  the  wel- 
fare of  the  whole  nation,  and  even  of  his  own  subjects.  The 
freedom  of  trade  and  commerce  was  checked,  as  each  petty 
state  was  surrounded  with  a  barrier  of  duties  and  imposts,  to 
supply  the  wants  of  the  expensive  princely  households ;  the 
earnings  of  the  industrious  subjects  were  taxed  and  taken  to 
uphold  useless  and  ridiculous  pride  in  courts,  armies,  and 
foreign  diplomatic  establishments. 

The  laws  pf  the  empire  were  made  at  the  imperial  diets, 
which  consisted  of  the  Estates  of  the  realm,  and  these  were 
divided  into  Ecclesiastic  and  Secular  Estates  ;  to, the  former 
belonged  the  clerical  electors,  archbishops  and  bishops,  prel- 
ates, abbots  and  abbesses,  the  grand  master  of  the  Teutonic 
orders,  and  that  of  St.  John ;  to  the  latter  the  secular  elec- 
tors, dukes,  princes,  margraves,  counts,  and  the  free  imperial 
cities.  At  first  the  emperor  appeared  in  person  at  the  diets, 
but  afterwards  by  a  commissioner,  who  was  a  prince  of  the 
empire.    The  elector  of  Mayence,  as  chancellor  of  the  em- 


1849.]  The  German  Revolution  of  1818.  145 

pire,  was  president  of  the  diet,  to  whom  the  envoys  of  the 
£states  and  foreign  ambassadors  presented  their  credentials. 
The  business  was  transacted  in  three  colleges ;  namely, 

First,  That  of  the  Electoral  Princes,  in  which  Mayence  col- 
lected the  votes. 

Second,  That  of  Princes,  which  was  divided  into  the  clerical 
and  secular  benches.  The  protestant  bishops  of  Lubeck  and 
Osnaburg  sat  on  a  cross-bench.  The  counts  of  the  empire  had 
in  this  college  no  individual  votes,  (votum  virile,)  but  were 
divided  into  four  benches,  namely,  of  the  Wetterau,  Swabia, 
Franconia,  and  Westphalia,  of  which  each  bench  gave  but  one 
vote  (votum  curiatum)  ;  and,  likewise,  the  prelates  of  the 
realm,  —  as  abbots,  prebendaries,  and  abbesses, — were  di- 
vided into  two  benches,  namely,  the  Swabian  and  Rhenish, 
and  had  two  votes.  The  presidency  was  exercised  alter- 
nately by  the  archbishop  of  Salzburg  and  the  archduke  of 
Austria. 

Third,  That  of  the  Free  Imperial  Cities,  which  was  divided 
into  two  benches,  the  Rhenish  and  Swabian.  The  city  where 
the  diet  sat  had  the  honor  of  the  presidency,  and  each  city 
had  one  vote. 

Generally  the  majority  of  votes  controlled  all  matters,  ex- 
cept in  religious  aftairs,  and  those  concerning  the  individual 
Estates.  Each  of  the  colleges  passed  its  resolutions  separately, 
and  then  sought,  by  conference,  to  effect  unanimity  in  the 
three  colleges.  This  done,  the  resolution  thus  passed  was 
called  "  conclusum  imperii,"  and  laid  before  the  emperor  for 
ratification,  and  if  it  received  his  approbation,  it  became  a 
law,  and  was  called  "an  Edict  of  the  Empire,"  (Reichs- 
schluss,)  and  the  publication  of  all  the  edicts  passed  at  a 
diet  was  called  "  recessus  imperii,"  (Reichsabschied.)  The 
emperor  might  refuse  this  ratification  in  whole  or  in  part,  but 
he  could  not  alter  the  import  of  the  resolves,  nor  supply  the 
needful  assent  of  any  one  college.  The  edicts  having  been 
signed,  they  were  published  and  sent  to  the  imperial  courts 
for  registration.  The  usual  business  of  the  diet  was  to  pass, 
abolish,  and  interpret  laws,  to  conclude  war  and  peace,  to 
make  compacts  and  treaties,  and  transact  other  similar  busi- 
ness. 

The  last  imperial  diet  was  opened  by  Ferdinand  III.  in  the 
year  1653,  at  Regensburg,  and  closed  the  17th  of  May,  1654. 
It  is  called  the  last,  because  the  other  diet,  opened  in  1663, 
remained  in  session  till  the  dissolution  of  the  empire,  and  was 


146  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.         [March, 

closed  without  the  promulgation  of  any  laws.  The  laws  passed 
at  this  last  diet  related  to  the  appointment  of  judges  to  the 
imperial  court,  (Reichskammergericht,)  and  the  forms  of  pro- 
cedure. It  was  a  characteristic  proceeding  on  the  part  of 
the  German  diet,  that  it  presented  minutely,  in  (me  hundred 
and  sixty-one  paragraphs,  the  forms  under  which  justice  might 
be  demanded  in  the  highest  court  of  the  empire,  in  matters 
where  the  value  in  dispute  exceeded  four  hundred  rixthalers, 
and  laid  down  the  forms  of  appeal  from  courts  of  the  imperial 
states  ;  but  left  single  judicial  lords  and  magistrates  to  exer- 
cise jurisdiction  over  tlneves,  witches,  and  revilers  of  religion, 
and  dispose  of  their  lives  without  appeal  or  opposition. 

Leopold,  the  son  and  successor  of  Ferdinand,  being  of  a 
weak  mind  and  feeble  character,  allowed  the  members  of  the 
empire  to  establish  completely  their  independent  sovereignty. 
The  idea  of  the  century,  which  Richelieu  had  begun  to  carry 
out  in  France  and  Louis  XIV.  had  adopted,  namely,  that  of 
giving  to  the  ruling  sovereign  or  his  chosen  minister  exclu- 
sively all  power  of  government,  was  now  likewise  carried  out 
in  all  the  different  states  of  Germany.  Emperor  Leopold,  at 
his  election  in  1658,  had  been  obliged  by  the  princes  to  swear 
to  uphold  a  capitulation  which  stipulated  ^^  that  the  Estates 
should  not  assume  the  disposition  of  taxes,  to  the  exclusion  of 
their  sovereigns ;  and  that  they  should  not  refuse  contributions 
for  the  support  of  fortresses  and  garrisons,  as  decreed  in  the 
last  recess  of  the  diet ;  and  if  they  should,  on  that  account, 
make  complaints  at  the  imperial  courts,  they  should  be  refused 
a  hearing,  and  ordered  to  obey  their  sovereigns ;  that  the 
electoral  princes  and  the  other  Estates  should  be  permitted  to 
assemble  and  enter  into  leagues ;  that  the  electoral  princes 
should  be  allowed,  with  the  assistance  of  neighbouring  states, 
to  maintain  their  rights  against  their  own  subjects,  and  to  force 
them  to  obedience ;  and,  finally,  that,  although  complaints  and 
suits  arising  in  consequence  of  this  compulsion  of  their  subjects 
should  be  decided  with  all  speed,  nevertheless  the  princes 
should  not  be  compelled  to  obey  the  mandates  issued  by  the 
imperial  and  aulic  courts  at  the  instance  of  subjects." 

Thus  the  Estates  and  the  subjects  were  entirely  barred  from 
the  protection  of  the  supreme  power  of  the  empire.  More- 
over, at  the  diet  called  in  1663,  on  account  of  the  war  with 
the  Turks,  the  emperor,  for  the  first  time,  did  not  appear,  to 
open  it  in  person,  but  sent  a  commissioner  to  represent  him. 
He  afterwards  permitted  the  princes  who  could  not  come  to 


1849.]  The  Qerman  JRevolvtion  of  1848.  147 

an  agreement,  to  leave  the  diet,  and  send  ambassadors  in 
their  stead.  The  diet,  formerly  an  assembly  of  all  the  princes, 
now  became  a  congress  of  ambassadors,  who  could  act  only 
after  communicatiDg  with  their  princes  upon  each  question 
under  discussion.  The  consequent  slowness  in  transacting 
business  made  the  session  of  the  diet  permanent,  and  it  con- 
tinued in  session  tiU  the  final  dissolution  of  the  empire,  in  1806. 
The  emperor  also  permitted  each  imperial  Estate  to  raise  the 
expenses  for  these  embassies  from  their  subjects,  and  thus  he 
confirmed  the  permanency  of  the  diet.  The  principal  subjects 
discussed  were  the  so  called  ''  religious  complsdnts,"  arising 
from  the  relations  of  the  different  religious  parties. 

Through  the  above  cited  stipulations  in  the  capitulation  to 
which  Leopold  agreed,  the  princes  had  become  independent  of 
the  grants  of  taxes  by  their  Estates  and  subjects,  and  thus 
they  could  easily  break  through  all  restraints  which  the 
Estates  laid  upon  them.  The  electors  of  Bavaria  and  Bran- 
denburgh  set  tiie  example  to  the  others  in  dispensing  entirely 
with  the  codperation  of  the  Estates  within  their  dominions. 
Instead  of  calling  all  the  Estates  together,  they  retained,  at 
first,  only  committees,  to  perform  the  same  duties  which  the 
assembled  representatives  had  performed, before;  and  these 
committees  became,  at  last,  permanent;  or  were  abolished  with- 
out any  ceremony. 

It  would  lead  us  too  far  to  go  into  a  particular  statement  of 
the  shameless  violations  of  all  existing  rights  and  laws,  which 
the  princes  committed  in  their  respective  dominions.  The 
atrocities  which  some  of  them  were  guilty  of  seem  almost  in- 
credible. We  will  only  refer  to  the  brutalities  of  a  Frederick 
William  of  Brandenburgh  and  a  Charles  Eugene  of  Wurtem- 
burg,  as  proof  that  we  do  not  give  too  harsh  a  name  to  their 
base  deeds. 

Thus  things  went  on,  till  on  the  Seine  the  corrupted  politi- 
cal atmosphere  gave  birth  to  a  violent  storm,  which  shook  all 
Europe  to  its  centre.  The  dawn  of  a  new  age  broke  on  the 
world  —  the  age  of  the  Rights  of  the  People  and  of  their 
Sovereign  Will ;  the  age  when  it  was  to  be  received  as  a  self- 
evident  truth  that  the  rulers  are  made  for  the  people,  and  not 
the  people  for  the  rulers,  and  that  the  people  shall  have  a 
voice  in  deciding  on  their  own  welfare.  The  princes  saw  the 
mi^ty  spirit  rising  from  the  deep,  which  threatened  their  ex- 
istence. They  rushed  one  and  all  to  stifle  or  smother  it  in 
its  cradle.    But  it  embodied  itself  in  one  mighty  giant,  the 


148  The  German  Revolution  of  1818.         [March, 

Titan  of  Corsica,  who  now  like  a  tempest  swept  over  the 
earth,  overthrew  all  thrones,  shattered  the  sceptres  and  tore 
the  ermine  of  kings  and  princes.  No  earthly  hand  could 
approach  and  touch  him,  and  he  fell  only  by  the  hand  which 
raised  him.  The  thunderbolt  of  Heaven  alone  hurled  him 
from  his  lofty  station ;  and  even  then  he  rose  a  second  time, 
like  another  Antaeus,  when  he  touched  his  mother  earth,  and 
stood  forth  in  his  native  strength ;  his  unruly  Titanic  spirit 
knew  no  submission,  and  could  not  feel  that  it  was  only  an  in- 
strument wielded  by  the  over-ruling  Power  by  which  he  was 
overthrown  a  second  time,  not  to  rise  again,  having  fulfilled 
his  mission. 

The  princes  then  began  to  breathe  freely  once  more,  and 
recover  from  the  fright  and  dismay  which  had  struck  to  their 
hearts,  in  gazing  on  the  awful  meteor  which  had  passed  before 
their  eyes.  They  could  not  but  see  in  it  a  messenger  sent  by 
a  higher  power,  to  reveal  and  teach  solemn  truth.  Although 
they  were  pleased  with  the  absolute  sovereign  sway  which  the 
King  of  kings  had  wielded  to  crush  the  wild  demon  of  the 
people's  rule,  yet  they  could  not  forget  that  he  was  a  son  of 
the  Revolution,  a  man  risen  from  the  people,  who  had  destroyed 
the  vague  yet  sacred  halo  of  the  divine  rights  of  kings,  dimly 
floating  round  their  sovereign  thrones.  As  such,  he  was  but 
the  representative  of  the  evil  spirit  which  had  broken  forth 
on  the  Seine.  Therefore  he  was  banished  to  a  desolate  isle 
in  the  ocean,  there  to  linger  out  his  crushed  existence,  among 
the  mighty  waters  —  his  only  companions. 

However,  this  bitter  lesson  made  a  deep  impression  upon 
the  minds  of  the  princes,  and  filled  them  with  a  passing  spirit 
of  repentance,  and  a  desire  to  mend  their  evil  ways. 

The  rulers  who  had  stood  foremost  in  the  alliance  against 
Napoleon,  were  the  Emperor  Alexander  of  Russia,  Emperor 
Francis  of  Austria,  and  King  Frederick  William  III.  of  Prus- 
sia. All  three  had  passed  through  the  bitter  ordeal  of  humil- 
iation, and  in  the  hours  of  sorrow  had  found  in  religion  that 
consolation  which  they  had  vainly  sought  in  earthly  glory 
and  power.  They  now  looked  upon  their  high  vocation  from 
a  religious  point  of  view.  From  Alexander,  the  most  tal- 
ented but  also  the  weakest  of  the  three,  the  great  idea  pro- 
ceeded of  establishing  a  European  alliance,  which  should 
have  for  its  basis  the  mild,  love-breathing  doctrines  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  not  the  narrow  policy  of  temporal  success.  This 
alliance  was  called  by  some,  from  reverential  admiration,  and 


1849.]  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.  149 

by  others  from  a  spirit  of  derision,  the  Holy  Alliance.  It 
was  signed  by  the  three  monarchs,  at  Paris,  on  the  26th  of 
September,  1815.  They  hereby  declared  to  the  whole  world 
their  pious  resolution,  both  in  the  administration  of  their  own 
kingdom,  and  in  relation  to  other  governments,  to  take  for 
their  guide  only  the  commands  of  the  Christian  religion ;  the 
dictates  of  Justice,  Christian  Love,  and  Peace.  The  three 
monarchs  pledged  themselves  according  to  the  words  of  the 
Scripture,  which  demand  that  all  men  should  regard  each 
other  as  brothers,  to  remain  united  and  to  aid  each  other  like 
brothers  on  all  occasions,  and  to  show  themselves  to  their  sub- 
jects and  armies  as  fathers,  and  to  cause  the  same  feeling  of 
brotherhood  to  pervade  their  subjects ;  and  the  states  governed 
by  them,  Russia,  Prussia,  and  Austria,  should  in  future  be  only 
three  branches  of  one  and  the  same  Christian  people,  who 
acknowledge  as  their  only  ruler  Him  to  whom  all  power  is 
given.  All  the  princes  of  Europe  were  invited  to  join  in  this 
alliance,  excepting  the  Turkish  Sultan  and  the  Pope. 

For  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  world,  the  mighty  of 
the  earth  had  pronounced,  in  a  solemn  compact,  the  principle 
Uiat  all  Christian  Europe  should  unite  in  one  alliance,  in  which 
the  highest  law  for  princes  and  subjects  should  be,  brotherly 
love  and  kindness.  If  it  had  been  possible  to  carry  out  this 
plan,  the  golden  age,  of  which  poets  speak  and  common 
mortals  dream,  would  have  been  realized.  But  in  their  be- 
lief that  they  wished  only  what  was  good  and  just,  they  had 
reserved  the  highest  and  final  decision  of  all  affairs  to  their 
own  personal  feeling,  which,  both  with  high  and  low,  is  influ- 
enced by  accidental  circumstances,  and  wfich  cannot  therefore 
be  a  safe  guide  in  the  intricate  management  of  public  affairs. 
The  supreme  rule  of  personal  feeling  was,  in  reality,  nothing 
else  but  absolute  unlimited  power,  whatever  religious  cloii 
the  piety  of  the  authors  wished  to  throw  over  it.  They, 
therefore,  restored  the  tyranny  against  which  they  had  called 
upon  their  people  to  draw  the  sword.  "  Freedom  "  was  the 
watchword  and  battle-cry  which  inspired  the  people  of  all 
classes  to  break  the  foreign  yoke,  and  it  was  the  princes  them- 
selves who  raised  this  word  of  enchantment,  which  electrified 
all  hearts,  the  young  and  the  old,  high  and  low. 

To  what  degree  disinterested  love  filled  the  hearts  of  the 
Grerman  princes,  and  influenced  their  conduct  towards  the 
people  over  whom  they  were  now  to  resume  control — their 
immediate  actions  showed,  and  in  a  manner  which  left  no 


150  The  G^wman  Revolution  of  1848.         [March, 

doubt  of  Uie  actual  spirit  which  guided  them.  We  see  this 
distinctly,  even  in  the  attempt  to  give  shape  agam  to  the  frag- 
ments of  the  old  Germanic  empire. 

After  the  first  victory  over  Napoleon,  the  princes  of  the 
Germanic  states  assembled  at  Vienna  to  take  into  considersr 
tion  the  new  order  of  thmgs  which  was  to  succeed  the  broken 
empire  of  foreign  power.  By  an  article  in  the  treaty  of  Paris 
it  had  been  decided  ''  that  the  states  of  Germany  shall  be  in- 
dependent, and  shall  be  united  by  a  federative  tie."  In  pur- 
suance of  this,  thirty-eight  out  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  sov- 
ereign states,  that  once  existed,  all  the  rest  having  been 
absorbed  in  these,  met  together.  But  most  contrskdictory 
views  and  claims  were  brought  forward.  Some  demanded 
that  every  thing  should  be  placed  again  as  it  existed  before 
the  dissolution  of  the  empire,  and  if  possible,  at  the  time  of  the 
Peace  of  Westphalia.  These  views  were  entertained  by  the 
smaller  and  mediatized  princes.  But  neither  Austria  nor 
Prussia  felt  inclined  to  accept  the  imperial  dignity,  from  which 
they  could  promise  themselves  no  advantages  under  existing 
circumstances.  They  entertained  the  plan  of  uniting  all  parts 
that  once  belonged  to  the  Germanic  empire  into  one  whole, 
which,  without  interfering  with  the  internal  government, 
should  form  a  solid  union  agfdnst  all  foreign  states.  The  new 
kingdoms  created  by  Napoleon  —  Bavaria  and  Wurtemburg, 
and  also  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden,  made  the  most  resolute 
resistance  to  any  thing  that  might  in  the  least  disturb  their 
independence.  It  might  have  been  long  before  harmony 
would  have  been  established,  if  the  sudden  reappearance  of 
'  Napoleon,  upon  his  return  from  Elba,  had  not  driven  them  to 
a  speedy  conclusion.  Instead  of  establishing  a  confederated 
state,  they  contented  themselves  with  forming  a  confederation 
of  states,  which  was  based  upon  the  entire  equality  of  all  the 
members,  and  had  for  its  object  only  the  preservation  of  inter- 
nal and  external  security.  The  compact  was  concluded  on 
the  10th  of  June,  1815,  eight  days  before  the  battle  of  Belle 
Alliance.    Its  principal  provisions  are  as  follows :  — 

§  1.  The  sovereign  princes  and  the  free  cities  of  Germany, 
including  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  and  the  Kings  of  Prussia, 
Denmark,  and  the  Netherlands  —  the  two  former  for  all  their 
possessions  formerly  belonging  to  the  Grerman  empire,  the 
King  of  Denmark  for  Holstein,  and  the  King  of  the  Nether- 
lands for  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Luxemburg  —  enter  into  a  per- 
petual confederation,  which  shall  be  call^  the  German  con- 
federation. 


1849.]  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.  151 

§  2.  The  desi^  of  it  b  the  preservation  of  the  external 
and  internal  security  of  Germany,  and  the  independence  and 
inviolability  of  the  individual  German  states. 

§  3.  All  members  of  the  confederation  have,  as  such, 
equal  rights.  They  all  bind  tliemselves  equally  to  keep  tlie 
federal  compact. 

§  4.  The  affairs  of  the  federal  union  shall  be  transacted  by 
a  federal  diet,  at  which  all  members,  through  their  plenipo- 
tentiaries, have  partly  single,  partly  collective  votes,  in  all  17. 

§  5.  Austria  presides  at  the  federal  diet.  Each  member 
has  the  right  to  make  proposals,  and  the  president  is  bound 
to  bring  them  up  for  consultation  within  a  ^ven  time. 

§  6.  In  cases  regarding  the  making  or  altering  of  funda- 
mental laws  of  the  confederation,  of  resolutions  concerning 
the  compact  itself,  the  organic  federal  constitutions,  and  gen- 
erally useful  arrangements,  the  diet  forms  itself  into  a  ple- 
num, in  which,  in  regard  to  the  difference  in  size  of  the  indi- 
vidual states,  the  following  distribution  of  votes  is  agreed  upon: 
six  have  4  votes,  five  3  votes,  three  2  votes,  and  the  rest 
only  one,  which  make  in  all  69  (afterwards  70)  votes. 

The  assembly  is  in  constant  session,  but  may  adjourn  for 
four  months  at  most. 

§  9.  The  seat  of  the  diet  is  at  Frankfort  on  the  Maine, 
and  is  fixed  for  Semptember  Ist,  1815. 

§  10.  The  first  duty  of  the  diet  shall  be  the  making  of 
fundamental  laws  of  the  confederation,  and  the  organic  ar- 
rangement regarding  its  foreign  military  and  internal  relations. 

The  following  sections  stipulated  that  sdl  the  members  of  the 
confederation  should  protect  both  the  whole  of  Germany  and 
each  federal  state  against  any  aggression ;  that  in  case  of  war 
no  one  member  should  enter  into  separate  negotiations  with 
the  enemy ;  that  each  state  should  retain  the  right  of  making 
treaties  with  other  nations,  provided  they  did  not  tend  to  prej- 
udice the  safety  of  the  confederation  or  of  its  members  ;  and 
that  the  members  should  not  mkke  war  against  each  other,  but 
submit  their  disputes  to  arbitration. 

The  thirteenth  section  provided,  ^^  In  all  the  federal  states  a 
representative  constitution  shall  be  established;"  and  the  eigh- 
teenth section  guaranteed  to  the  subjects  of  all  the  states  the 
right  of  acquiring  real  estate  in  any  one  of  them,  and  o#  emi- 
grating from  one  state  into  another  without  paying  a  tax  on 
Sieir  property ;  and  lastly,  uniform  regulations  regarding  the 
liberty  of  the  press  and  the  security  of  authors  and  publishers 
agmst  piracy. 


152  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.         [March, 

This  confederation  was,  as  distinctly  appears,  only  the  act 
of  the  princes  of  Germany  for  the  support  of  their  own  sov- 
ereign independence  ;  but  not  the  act  of  the  people,  forming 
themselves  into  one  nation.  It  was  only  after  great  exertions 
on  the  part  of  Prussia,  that  the  thirteenth  article  was  insert- 
ed, which  made  it  incumbent  on  all  the  states  to  introduce 
a  representative  form  of  government ;  and  another  article 
which  guaranteed  liberty  of  the  press.  No  provision  was 
made  to  enable  the  people  of  the  individual  states  to  obtain 
redress  against  their  rulers,  if  they  should  be  deprived  of  their 
rights ;  nor  were  the  rights  of  the  people  in  the  least  defined, 
or  the  principles  laid  down  on  which  the  representative  form 
of  government  should  be  established.  All  this  was  left  to  the 
sovereign  will  of  each  prince.  Several  states,  however,  pro- 
ceeded at  once  to  comply  with  the  thirteenth  article  of  the 
compact,  and  gave  constitutions,  such  as  they  were.  Prussia, 
also,  showed  the  best  intentions  at  first,  and  made  prepara- 
tions to  give  to  its  people  a  general  representative  form  of 
government.  On  the  22nd  of  May,  1815,  there  appeared  an 
edict  of  the  king,  that  provincial  diets  should  be  constituted, 
out  of  which  a  general  diet  should  be  chosen.  Of  this  we 
shall  have  occasion  to  speak  more  at  large  hereafter.  The 
Prussian  government,  with  Prince  Ilardenburg  as  chancellor 
at  the  head  of  the  state,  favored  at  first  the  free  political  de- 
velopment in  Germany.  Soon  after  the  Peace  at  Tilsit,  under 
the  protection  of  the  amiable  and  gifted  Queen  Louisa  and 
the  Baron  Von  Stein,  an  association  had  been  formed  called 
"  the  league  of  virtue,"  (Tugendbund,)  to  which,  besides  the 
princes  of  the  house,  the  most  distinguished  men  belonged,  as 
Fichte,  Humboldt,  Schleiermacher,  Niebuhr,  Amdt,  Jahn, 
and  others.  The  openly  declared  object  of  the  pociety  was  the 
moral  and  mental  culture  of  its  members,  whilst  it  in  secret 
pursued  the  plan  to  prepare  their  native  country,  Germany,  for 
redemption  and  elevation  from  its  disgraceful  humiliation  and 
oppression.  At  the  demand  of  the  Emperor  of  the  French 
this  league  was  annulled,  but  it  continued  to  exist  in  secret, 
and  spread  far  beyond  the  boundaries  of  Prussia.  As  long 
as  the  enemy  was  near  at  hand,  all  onward  movements  in 
Prussia  proceeded  in  the  spirit  of  this  league ;  but  when 
peaces  was  established,  there  were  not  wanting  those  who  saw 
or  pretended  to  see  in  this  league  tendencies  dangerous  to  the 
state,  or  rather  to  the  absolute  monarchical  principle,  and 
endeavoured  to  represent  them  as  such  to  the  king,  and  to 


1849.]  The  aerman  Bevolution  of  1848.  153 

the  world  in  general.  The  expectations  of  the  young  genera- 
tion, who  had  in  large  numbers  drawn  the  sword  in  their  coun- 
try's cause,  were  naturally  and  justly  in  favor  of  an  internal 
political  regeneration  of  the  German  people ;  and  this  spirit 
prevailed  particularly  among  the  young  men  at  the  universi- 
ties, many  of  whom  had  manfully  fought  for  freedom  in  the 
battles  against  the  common  enemy.  The  celebration  of  the 
three  hundredth  anniversary  of  the  Reformation  gave  occasion 
for  a  large  concourse  of  students  from  the  different  parts  of 
the  country  at  tiie  Wartburg,  to  celebrate  this  festival,  on  the 
18th  of  October,  1818,  this  being  the  anniversary  day  of  the 
victory  over  foreign  thraldom.  The  day  was  celebrated  in 
the  spirit  which  filled  every  heart;  namely,  enthusiasm  for 
the  regeneration  of  the  German  nation.  The  impression  which 
this  celebration  made  upon  all  Young  Germany  was  deep  and 
astounding.  But  the  governments  and  their  servile  supporters 
thought  that  the  devil,  who  appeared  to  Luther  three  hundred 
years  ago  at  this  same  place,  had  risen  again  and  was  actively 
at  work.  In  addition  to  this,  it  happened  that  a  Mr.  Yon 
Kotzebue,  known  to  the  English  public  by  his  dramatic  works, 
made  himself  particularly  obnoxious  by  his  writings,  ridiculing 
the  generous  enthusiastic  spirit  of  the  young ;  and,  being  in 
the  pay  and  employ  of  the  Russian  government,  he  represented 
to  the  same  the  spirit  prevailing  in  Germany  as  most  danger- 
ous to  the  existing  governments.  A  young  man,  a  student  at 
Jena,  Charles  Sand,  a  great  enthusiast  for  the  regeneration  of 
his  country,  formed  the  idea  that  Kotzebue  intended  to  betray 
Germany  to  Russia,  and  he  felt  himself  called  upon  to  remove 
this  Russian  spy  at  all  hazards.  His  resolution  was  soon 
taken  ;  the  enemy  fell  by  his  dagger. 

This  act,  together  with  what  had  preceded,  was  sufficient  to 
bring  the  princes  to  definite  and  rigorous  measures,  and  the 
tyrannical  acts  which  now  followed  year  after  year,  and  which 
have  been  continued  till  the  year  1848,  took  their  date 
from  1819. 

Prince  Mettemich,  the  Chancellor  of  Austria,  who  had  long 
looked  upon  the  onward  movement  of  the  people  in  different 
states  with  fear  and  dread,  as  diametrically  opposed  to  his 
system  of  preserving  the  existing  state  of  things,  now  deemed 
it  high  time  to  use  effective  means  to  check  this  innovating 
spirit  of  the  age.  Already,  in  the  year  previous,  the  Austrian 
ambassador  had  expressed,  regarding  the  execution  of  the 
thirteenth  article,  the  following  view  of  his  government :    '^  It 

NO.  VI.  11 


154  The  Gernum  RevoluUm  of  1848.         [March, 

is  in  existence  ;  it  therefore  must  be  executed,  that  is,  there 
shall  and  must  exist  in  all  German  states  representadve-con- 
stitutions,  and  they  must  therefore,  be  introduced  where  they 
do  not  now  exist.  It  lies  in  the  nature  of  a  promise,  which  is 
not  bound  to  a  certain  time,  that  the  fulfilment  of  it  must  be 
had  as  soon  and  as  well  as  possible.  But  the  wisdom  of  the 
government  and  the  interest  of  the  subjects  require  that  the 
best  of  things  should  be  attained  under  the  given  circum- 
stances." Then  he  went  on  to  say,  that  requisite  time 
must  be  given  to  the  governments  to  bring  about  the  proper 
result.  The  Prussian  ambassador,  also,  bad,  in  a  previous 
session,  on  the  5th  of  February,  1818,  expressed  himself  in  a 
similar  way,  saying  that  his  government  would  now  soon  estab- 
lish the  provincial  diets,  so  that  the  essential  part  of  the  edict 
of  the  22nd  of  May,  1815,  would  bo  carried  out ;  that  it  would 
then  proceed  in  the  way  of  experiment,  and  first  establish 
what  the  welfare  of  the  individual  provinces  required,  and 
then  see  what  could  be  done  for  a  common  bond  which  should 
unite  all  provinces. 

These  declarations  showed  distinctly  that  neither  of  these 
great  powers  would  be  led  into  so  great  a  departure  from  the 
absolute  monarchial  system  as  to  bind  its  hands  by  a  repre- 
sentative constitution ;  and  at  the  same  time  it  became  evident 
that  thev  would  not  scruple  to  evade  their  promises  and 
pledges  uy  the  most  paltry  and  Jesuitical  subterfuges. 

Prince  Mettemich,  after  the  occurrences  mentioned,  called 
a  meeting  of  the  ministers  of  all  the  principal  states  for  the 
purpose  of  conferring  together  to  determine  in  what  manner 
the  gaps  left  in  the  act  of  the  confederation  of  1815  should 
be  filled  up,  and  at  the  same  time  to  decide  upon  measures  to 
meet  the  danger  of  the  moment.  The  result  of  these  confer- 
ences was  the  so  called  Resolutions  at  Karlsbad,  which  were 
Kblished  on  the  20th  of  September,  1819,  at  Frankfort, 
ey  were  as  follows : 

1.  That  the  confederate  states  should,  at  the  next  session, 
in  the  spirit  of  the  monarchial  principle  and  the  preservation 
of  the  confederation,  give  their  views  on  a  proper  interpreta- 
tion and  explanation  of  the  thirteenth  article  of  the  act  of 
confederation. 

2.  That,  until  definite  executive  regulations  be  establbhed, 
provisional  regulations  should  be  introduced,  for  the  purpose 
of  carrying  out  and  watching  over  the  measures  and  resolu- 
tions necessary  for  the  mternal  safety,  according  to  the  second 
section. 


1849.]  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.  155 

8.  That  provisional  measures  should  immediately  be  taken 
for  a  thorough  reform  of  schools  and  universities. 

4.  That  for  the  necessary  superintendence  over  all  matters 
of  the  press,  and  for  the  purpose  of  preventing  the  abuse  of 
it,  a  provisional  order  should  be  generally  introduced  in  regard 
to  newspapers,  periodicals,  and  pamphlets. 

5.  That  a  central  committee  should  be  appointed  for  the 
express  purpose  of  investigating  the  revolutionary  intrigues 
discovered  in  several  states. 

The  presiding  ambassador  of  Austria  stated,  in  opening  the 
session,  that  the  most  rigorous  measures  must  be  taken  to 
suppress  the  fermentation  of  minds  in  Germany ;  that  one  of 
the  principal  causes  of  the  excitement  was  the  indefiniteness  of 
the  thirteenth  article  of  the  act  of  confederation,  promising  a 
representative  form  of  government  to  the  individual  states ; 
that  it  was  true  that  this  promise  had  been  given,  but  neither 
the  time  had  been  fixed  when^  nor  the  form  in  which  it  should 
be  done.  That  nothing  else  had  been  imderstood  by  repre- 
sentative states,  but  what  had  always  been  understood  by  it  in 
Germany,  and  that  he  was  far  from  understanding  by  it  a 
kind  of  government  by  the  people  according  to  foreign  pat- 
terns ;  that,  therefore,  no  constitutions  should  be  granted  in 
the  different  states  until  the  diet  had  given  an  interpretation 
of  the  thirteenth  article,  which  must  be  based  upon  upholding 
the  monarchial  principle,  —  that  a  wrong  idea  was  abroad  in 
regard  to  the  extent  of  power  and  duties  of  the  confederation ; 
that  its  object  was  its  own  self-preservation  and  that  of  the 
states,  and,  in  this  respect,  it  was  the  highest  legislative 
body.  The  resolves  of  the  diet,  therefore,  which  related  to 
the  internal  and  external  safety  of  the  whole,  the  indepen- 
dence and  inviolability  of  the  individual  members  of  the 
league,  and  the  upholding  of  the  existing  order,  must  have  a 
general  binding  force,  and  the  execution  of  them  must  not  be 
checked  by  separate  legislation,  and  by  the  laws  of  a  single 
confederate  state. 

In  accordance  with  the  aforementioned  resolutions  and  in 
the  spirit  of  the  sentiments  expressed  by  the  Austrian  ambas- 
sador, the  following  measures  were  adopted :  A  committee 
of  five  members  was  appointed  who  should  watch  over  the 
execution  of  the  resolves  of  the  diet.  In  case  the  resolves 
should  meet  with  resistance  on  the  part  of  the  subjects  of  any 
state,  and  its  own  government  should  not  be  able  to  enforce 
them,  the  diet  shodd  enforce  them  by  military  power,  and  the 


156  Tl^  German  Bevdutum  of  1848.         [Maroh, 

diet  should  determine  on  the  number  of  troops  and  the  states 
which  should  furnish  them.  The  same  should  take  place  in 
case  the  government  itself  should  refuse  to  carry  out  the 
resolves. 

In  order  to  control  the  revolutionary  spirit  which  had 
shown  itst^lf  in  the  universities,  a  plenipotentiary  of  each  state 
was  to  be  appointed  at  each  university,  who  should  watch 
over  the  disciplinary  regulations,  the  spirit  of  the  professors 
in  their  lectures,  and  give  them  a  salutary  direction  for  fur- 
thering the  objects  of  the  state.  All  governments  were  en- 
joined to  remove  for  ever  from  public  instruction  every  teach- 
er who  should  abuse  his  influence  over  the  minds  of  the 
youth  by  spreading  corrupting  principles  endangering  the  pub- 
lic peace  and  safety ;  and  such  a  teacher  should  be  excluded 
from  admission  to  any  other  institution  in  any  other  state. 
All  secret  and  prohibited  associations  of  students  in  universi- 
ties, especially  that  of  the  Burschenschaft,  should  be  strictly 
suppressed,  and  every  individual,  taking  part  in  any  such, 
should  be  excluded  from  holding  any  public  office. 

To  carry  out  the  last  resolution,  a  court  of  seven  commis- 
sioners was  appointed  to  assemble  at  Mayence,  to  carry  on 
the  investigations  regarding  "  the  demagogic  intrigues,"  as 
they  were  called ;  all  local  authorities  were  ordered  to  deliver 
over  to  this  committee  the  respective  legal  papers  of  prosecu- 
tion, and  at  the  same  time  to  pursue  ditigently  all  traces  lead- 
ing to  new  discoveries.  At  the  same  time,  extraordinary 
power  was  given  to  this  committee  to  make  arrests  throughout 
all  the  German  states,  and  to  have  the  arrested  persons 
brought  to  Mayence,  where  a  safe  custody  was  provided  for 
them. 

The  total  subversion  of  all  legal  rights,  which  was  eflfected 
through  these  measures,  is  so  evident  that  it  need  not  be  dwelt 
upon.  At  the  Congress  of  Vienna,  absolute  independence  in 
regard  to  its  internal  affiiirs  was  guaranteed  to  each  state ;  but 
here  was  established  a  most  arbitrary  tribunal,  winch  could 
arrest  any  individual  in  any  state,  and,  on  mere  suspicion,  drag 
him  from  his  native  state  before  its  bar,  and  try  him  accord- 
ing to  its  own  wish  and  pleasure.  History  has  no  other 
example,  where  a  league  was  formed  by  so  many  absolute 
sovereigns  for  the  special  purpose  of  upholding  their  own  ab- 
solute sway  within  their  own  dominions  over  their  subjects. 

There  exists  no  pretence  of  any  apology  for  such  measures 
as  these ;  it  cannot  be  said  that  they  were  for  tlie  purpose  <^ 


1849.]  The  Germm  Revolvtian  of  1848.  157 

upholding  law  ^and  order,  for  the  very  measures  themselves 
were  a  gross  hreach  of  the  existing  laws ;  and  moreover,  this 
very  august  body,  which  deserves  better  the  name  of  a  con- 
spiracy and  band  of  tyrants,  and  which  thought  itself  entitled 
to  interfere  with  the  internal  affairs  of  the  individual  states, 
when  their  own  safety  was  concerned,  declared  itself  utterly 
incompetent  to  interfere  in  behalf  of  subjects,  when  their 
sacred  rights  were  most  grossly  abused  by  their  princes.  A 
striking  instance  of  this  was  the  worse  than  piratical  act  of  the 
Elector  of  Hesse,  who  pronounced  null  and  void  all  the  sales 
of  domains  made  during  the  French  dominion,  without  in- 
demnifying the  individual  purchasers.  When  these  applied  to 
the  diet  for  redress,  the  Elector  deprecated  the  interference 
of  their  body  in  the  internal  affairs  of  his  state,  and  the  un- 
fortunate persons,  who  had  been  robbed  of  their  property  in 
the  most  outrageous  manner,  remained  unsuded  in  their  help- 
less condition.  Another  equally  glaring  instance  of  this  kind 
occurred  in  1887,  when  the  present  king  of  Hanover,  upon 
his  ascending  the  throne,  set  aside  the  established  constitu- 
tion ;  and  the  diet,  when  applied  to  for  upholding  law  and 
order,  declared  itself  incompetent  to  interfere.  It  requires 
the  patience  of  the  German  people  to  endure  such  outrages, 
and  one  would  be  inclined  to  doubt  the  Eternal  Justice  if  no 
retribution  should  follow. 

Prince  Mettemich  had,  with  these  Resolutions  at  Karlsbad, 
only  begun  the  great  work  of  establishing  the  existing  order 
of  things.  He  full  well  saw  that  great  danger  threatened  his 
system  through  the  new  constitutions  which  the  states  in  the 
south  of  Germany  had  obtained,  and  by  which  the  subjects 
had  received  rights  which  might  lead  to  a  partial  rule  of  the 
people.  But  the  diet  had  so  far  no  right  to  interfere ;  it  was 
therefore  necessary  to  get  a  semblance  of  right.  For  this 
purpose  the  Austrian  cabinet  invited  all  the  German  govern- 
ments to  send  plenipotentiaries  to  Vienna,  for  the  purpose  of 
deliberating  on  and  passing  resolves  regarding  "  general  sub- 
jects of  the  confederation."  On  the  25th  of  November,  1819, 
this  congress  was  opened.  Prince  Mettemich  presiding. 

To  get  a  deeper  insight  into  the  principles  and  views  of  this 
statesman,  we  will  here  insert  a  letter  which  he  wrote  at  this 
time  to  Baron  de  Berstett,  minister  at  Baden. 

**Time  advances  amid  storms;  to  strive  to  check  its  violent 
mshtng,  would  be  a  vain  endeavour.    Firmness,  moderation,  and 


158  The  G^erman  Bevolution  of  1848.         [March, 

union  of  well-calculated  forces  —  these  alone  remain  to  the  pro- 
tectors and  friends  of  order ;  in  these  alone  consists  at  present  the 
duty  of  sovereigns  and  of  disinterested  statesmen ;  and  he  alone 
will  deserve  this  title  in  the  day  of  danger,  who,  convinced  of  what 
is  possible  and  reasonable,  does  not,  either  through  impotent  desires 
or  inertness,  swerve  from  the  noble  aim  towards  which  his  exer- 
tions must  be  directed.  That  aim  is  easily  determined.  In  our 
times  it  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  upholding  of  things  as 
they  are.  To  attain  this  aim  is  the  only  saving  means,  nay,  per- 
haps the  most  appropriate  to  recover  what  has  been  losU  Under 
the  present  circumstances  the  transition  from  the  old  to  the  new 
is  attended  with  as  much  danger  as  the  change  from  the  new  to 
what  no  longer  exists.  Both  may  alike  produce  an  outbreak  of 
disturbances,  which  must  be  avoided  at  any  price.  To  swerve  in 
no  way  from  the  existing  order  of  things,  of  whatever  origin  it 
may  be,  and  to  make  alterations,  if  they  appear  absolutely  necessa- 
ry, without  constraint  and  with  a  maturely  considered  resolution  — 
this  is  the  first  duty  of  a  government  which  wishes  to  resist  the 
curse  of  our  century.  Such  a  determination,  however  just  and 
natural  it  may  be,  will  certainly  provoke  obstinate  conflicts ;  but 
the  advantage  of  standing  upon  a  well  known  and  admitted  foun- 
dation is  evident,  because  it  will  be  easy,  from  this  position,  to 
frustrate  and  check  the  uncertain  movements  of  the  enemy  in  all 
directions.  The  fortification  of  the  Grerman  league  offers  at 
present,  to  each  of  the  states,  an  actual  guaranty  —  an  inestimable 
advantage  under  the  present  circumstances,  of  which  we  could 
make  sure  only  in  the  way  prescribed.  The  rules  which  the 
Grerman  governments  will  have  henceforth  to  pursue  may  be 
pointed  out  in  a  few  words :  first,  confidence  in  the  duration  of  the 
peace  of  Europe,  as  well  as  in  the  unanimity  of  the  principles 
guiding  the  great  powers ;  secondly,  conscientious  attention  to 
their  own  system  of  administration ;  thirdly,  perseverance  in 
maintaining  the  legal  foundations  of  existing  institutions,  and  a 
firm  determination  to  defend  them  with  vigor  and  caution  against 
every  individual  attack ;  and  also,  fourthly,  the  improvement  of 
radical  defects  in  the  national  institutions,  with  a  public  statement 
of  the  reasons  of  each  improvement ;  fifthly,  in  case  of  insufli- 
ciency  of  individual  means,  to  call  for  the  support  of  the  league, 
which  each  member  has  the  most  sacred  right  to  demand,  and 
which,  according  to  the  new  regulations,  cannot  be  refused." 

The  result  of  this  second  congress  at  Vienna  was  the  so 
called  "  concluding  Act  at  Vienna"  (Wiener  Schlussacte),  of 
which  we  shall  give  here  a  few  articles,  whereby  its  spirit  may 
be  sufficiently  seen.  The  indefiniteness  with  which  tiie  whole 
was  worded  admitted  of  any  interpretation  which  the  prince 


1849.]  The  Gemm  BevohUum  of  1848.  159 

ini^t,  in  fatore,  hold  it  for  their  advantage  to  make.  It  must 
also  be  stated,  that  as  soon  as  the  good-natured  German  people 
had  received  the  tidings  of  this  new  congress,  they  had  in- 
dulged in  the  fond  hopes  that  now  many  of  their  grievances 
would  find  in  these  conferences  at  least  a  hearing  and  some 
consideration.  It  was 'particularly  the  commercial  portion  of 
the  people  which  suffered  under  severe  oppression.  All  the 
states  being  sovereign,  each  one  thought  it  proper  to  its  digni- 
ty and  advantage  to  surround  its  own  territory  (which  might, 
in  most  cases,  be  called  only  a  patch  of  land,)  wiih  customs 
and  duties  hostile  to  every  other  state,  both  foreign  and  Oer- 
man.  The  most  ardent  advocate  for  the  protective  system 
will  at  once  admit  the  baneful  effect  this  state  of  things  must 
produce  upon  all  trade  and  commerce.  The  merchants,  who 
were  assembled  at  the  fair  in  Frankfort  in  1819,  sent  a  peti- 
tion to  the  diet,  setting  forth  the  condition  of  the  country ; 
but  without  attaining  a  hearing.  They  then  established  a 
German  Commercial  Union,  and  sent  a  special  commissioner. 
Professor  List  of  Tubingen,  to  Vienna,  to  represent  their  cause 
to  the  Congress  at  Vienna.  But  he  was  at  once,  without  cere- 
mony, sent  back  with  the  answer,  '^  that  the  Commercial  Union 
being  an  unlawful  self-constituted  association,  could  neither  be 
heard  nor  considered  by  the  Congress."  The  same  answer 
was  ^ven  to  the  petition  of  the  so  called  ^'Anti-piratical 
Union,"  which  had  been  formed  at  the  Hanseatic  cities,  and 
had  petitioned  for  a  general  German  flag,  because  under  it  the 
German  shipping  would  be  protected  against  foreign  oppres- 
uon,  and  the  piracy  of  the  Barbarians.*  But  through  the 
influence  of  Mettemich,  supported  by  Prussia,  this  august 
body  resolved  to  settle  only  political  questions,  for  which  spe- 
cial purpose  they  were  convened.  What  these  political  ques- 
tions were  the  following  articles  show  su£Bcientiy. 

Sections  25  and  26  read  thus :  '^  The  maintenance  of  inters 
nal  peace  and  order  in  the  states  belongs  to  their  respective 
governments  alone,  but  by  virtue  of  the  obligation  of  the  fed- 
eral members  to  lend  mutual  assistance,  the  cooperation  of  all 
may  take  place  for  the  preservation  and  restoration  of  quiet, 
in  case  of  open  revolt  or  dangerous  movements  in  several 
states  on  part  of  the  subjects ;  and  if  any  government  should 

*  In  the  spring  of  1817  tber«  had  appeared  two  cortairs  of  Tanis  in  the 
Grerman  or  North  Sea,  and  had  captured,  almost  in  sight  of  the  German  coast, 
the  ships  Oce<m  of  Hamburg,  ana  Christina  of  Lub^d^  and  afterwards  two 
other  TMsab. 


160  The  Germm  Bevoluti&n  of  1848.         [Ma»;b, 

be  hindered,  in  case  of  a  revolt,  from  asking  assistance  firom 
the  confederation,  the  same  shall  interfere  of  its  own  accord.'' 

Sections  67,  68,  and  59  provide  that  the  whole  power  of 
state  must  remidn  united  in  the  sovereign,  who  could  be 
bound  by  a  representative  constitution,  only  in  the  exercise 
of  certain  rights  ;  but  not  be  limited  by  the  same  in  the  fulfil- 
ment of  his  federal  obligations ;  and  that  where  the  publica- 
tion of  legislative  transactions  -was  allowed,  the  bounds  of  free 
speech  must  not  be  overstepped  either  in  debates  nor  in  the 
printed  publication,  so  that  the  peace  of  the  individual  state 
or  tha^t  of  the  whole  of  Germany  might  be  endangered. 

Most  rigorous  measures  were  also  adopted  to  keep  the  press 
within  perfect  control,  and  to  prevent  the  voice  of  the  op- 
pressed from  making  itself  heard.  In  accordance  with  the 
resolutions  at  Karlsbad,  a  law  was  issued  on  the  20th  of  Sep- 
tember, 1819,  to  be  in  force  for  five  years,  but  which  was  re- 
newed in  1824.  Its  provisions  were  as  follows:  1.  All 
periodical  writings,  and  all  other  writings  of  less  than  twenty 
sheets,  must  be  subjected  to  a  previous  censorship,  and  the 
single  states  are  responsible,  in  this  respect,  one  to  the  other 
and  to  the  whole  confederation.  2.  The  diet  is  entitied,  of  its 
own  accord,  to  prohibit  writings,  and  the  editor  of  a  suppressed 
newspaper  or  other  periodical  shall  not  be  admitted  to  the 
editorship  of  any  other  similar  paper  for  the  next  five  years. 
3.  Complaints  of  governments  regarding  the  abuse  of  the 
press  in  other  states,  shall  be  legally  prosecuted  in  states 
where  the  writings  were  printed.  4.  In  regard  to  writings 
of  more  than  twenty  sheets,  it  is  left  to  the  individual  govern- 
ments, whether  they  will  introduce  a  censorship  or  leave  them 
to  the  superintendence  of  the  police,  and  under  a  legal  prose* 
cution  on  the  same,  but,  6.  it  is  required  that  in  works  of  over 
twenty  sheets,  the  name  of  the  publisher,  and  if  the  work  be  a 
periodical,  the  name  of  the  editor,  must  be  inserted,  and  that 
all  the  books  which  do  not  bear  the  names  mentioned,  shall 
be  confiscated  and  not  be  sold  in  any  state. 

In  consequence  of  this  law  a  number  of  newspapers  and 
periodicals  were  suppressed.  Afterwards  the  diet  directed 
its  attention  also  to  greater  works,  and  to  the  attempts  of  some 
booksellers  in  neighbouring  countries  to  spread  in  Germany 
political  writings  of  a  passionate  import.  The  governments 
were  requested  to  ^ve  notice  of  those  writings,  the  sup- 
pression and  prosecution  of  which  were  deemed  necessary 
because  their  contents  were  dangerous  to  the  state.     Oat- 


1849«]  The  Qermm  Bevoiutim  iff  1848.  161 

alogaes  of  -writings  prohibited  in  the  imgle  states  -were  hand- 
ed in,  and  prohibitions  were  now  likewise  issued  by  the  diet. 
Matters  at  length  came  to  such  a  pass,  that  not  only  all  the 
books  published  by  certain  booksellers,  but  also  all  the  writ- 
ings of  certain  authors,  that  had  not  yet  been  published,  were 
prohibited.  The  law  of  the  diet  of  July  5th,  1832,  prohibited 
all  political  writings  which  were  published  in  the  German  lan- 
guage out  of  the  ccmfederated  states,  unless  a  special  permis- 
sion had  been  obtained  frcnn  the  governments.  The  edict  of 
June  28th  made  it  incumbent  upon  the  goyemments  to  take 
care,  in  regard  to  the  publication  of  the  transactions  in  repre- 
sentative bodies,  that  the  bounds  of  free  discussion  should  not 
be  overstepped,  and  attacks  upon  the  diet  should  be  prevent- 
ed. A  later  edict  of  April  28th,  1836,  prohibited  the  publica- 
tion of  any  news  regarding  debates  in  German  representative 
bodies,  in  newspapers  and  periodicals,  from  other  than  the  oflS- 
cial  sources  appointed  for  publishing  them. 

The  independent  position  of  the  princes  was  now  fortified 
to  their  hearts'  content,  and  if  it  was  not,  no  one  was  to  blame 
but  themselves,  since  the  people  were  not  even  allowed  to 
present  petitions  to  the  diet.  Each  one  now  dispensed  at 
his  own  paternal  board  the  blessings  of  an  almost  absolute 
government  to  the  subjects  of  his  land,  over  whom  he  had 
been  called  to  rule  "  by  the  grace  of  God."  Their  represent- 
atives were  in  constant  session  at  Frankfort ;  but  for  what 
purpose  and  to  what  use  it  would  be  di£Scult  to  say.  If  one 
prince  was  recommended  on  account  of  his  general  inefficiency, 
and  another  for  the  art  of  doing  the  least  possible  work  in  the 
greatest  possible  time,  this  dignified  body  would  undoubtedly 
accept  both.  The  people  lived  on  quietly,  and  if  it  be  true 
that  those  states  are  governed  best  of  winch  history  has  least 
to  record,  the  German  states  may  be  said  to  have  enjoyed  this 
enviable  position.  The  revolution  of  Prance,  in  1830,  found 
Germany  in  deep  repose  ;  however,  the  crowing  of  the  Gallic 
cock  awoke  the  people  somewhat  from  their  slumbers. 

We  have  no  space  to  specify  the  various  movements  that 
took  place  in  different  states.  The  princes  became  startled 
at  this  new  and  daring  spirit  of  reform  which  showed  itself 
among  their  subjects,  and  the  result  was  the  issue  of  six  new 
edicts,  dated  June  28th,  1832,  which  are  the  crowning  piece 
of  their  despotic  fabric.  The  edicts  speak  for  themselves, 
and  we  give  here  the  document  itself,  rather  than  oflfer  any 
remarks  or  indulge  in  denunciation  or  lamentation  over  the 
rights  infringed  and  trampled  under  foot. 


162  The  Grnnm  Eevolution  of  1848.         [March, 

^  Since  a  German  sovereign  can  be  boand  by  a  oonsdtation  to 
the  cooperation  with  the  estates  only  in  the  exercise  of  certain 
rights,  he  not  only  may  but  must  reject  any  petition  which  is  in 
conflict  with  the  same.  If  the  representative  assemblies  attempt 
to  make  the  granting  of  taxes  dependent  upon  obtaining  other 
wishes,  such  proceedings  are  to  be  classed  among  revolt  and 
resistance  to  the  government,  as  specified  in  the  twenty-fiflh  and 
twenty-sixth  sections.  A  committee  shall  be  appointed  at  the 
federal  diet  to  watch  over  the  transactions  of  the  representatives 
in  the  individual  states,  and  to  inform  the  diet  of  all  petitions  and 
resolutions  conflicting  with  the  rights  of  governments.  The  diet 
has  the  exclusive  right  of  interpreting  its  own  laws  and  compacts." 

The  new  restrictive  measures  in  regard  to  the  press,  we 
have  already  mentioned.  Here  we  must  leave  the  proceedings 
of  the  confederation  of  German  princes.  Some  idea,  at  least, 
may  be  formed  of  the  political  condition  of  Germany,  as  re- 
gards its  union  into  one  nation  and  tiie  freedom  "of  the  people. 
If  we  should  go  into  the  particular  grievances  which  the  sub- 
jects in  each  particular  state  had  to  endure,  volumes  would 
be  required  to  set  them  forth.  We  think  it,  however,  neces- 
sary to  take  more  particular  notice  of  one  individual  state,  be- 
cause it  is  more  generally  known  abroad,  and  enjoys  a  certain 
reputation  for  its  administration  in  some  of  its  internal  aflSoiirs 
—  we  mean  Prussia.  In  regard  to  Austria  it  need  only  be 
stated  that  there  the  principles  of  Mettemich  were  carried 
out  to  the  fullest  extent,  and  unblushing  absolutism  reigned 
with  a  vigor  and  energy  which  give  history  no  chance  of  re- 
cording any  acts  or  events  indicative  of  the  existence  of  life 
within  the  body  politic.  We  will  therefore  pass  over  this  state 
entirely,  and  turn  our  eyes  to  the  other,  where  some  life  and 
energy  were  shown  to  exist  both  on  the  part  of  the  govern- 
ment and  the  people. 

The  fact  that  the  king  of  Prussia,  on  the  3rd  of  February, 
1847,  issued  a  patent,  which  was  intended  to  be  the  long 
promised  constitution,  and  by  which  the  States  General  were 
called  together  to  assemble  in  one  body  at  Berlin,  has  been 
alleged  by  some  (no  doubt  from  ignorance  of  the  actual  state 
of  things,)  as  a  proof  of  the  development  of  political  rights 
in  Germany,  Prussia  being  one  of  the  greatest  states  of  the 
confederation,  counting  15,600,000  inhabitants,  of  whom  11,- 
900,000  belong  to  the  Germanic  confederation.  So  far  from 
this  being  the  case,  we  think  it  serves  as  an  additional  proof 
that  all  established  law  was  disregarded,  and  absolutism  pro- 


1849.]  The  aerman  Bevolvtian  af  1848.  163 

claimed  as  the  bams  and  fundamental  jninciple  of  government. 
A  short  allusion  to  this  first  assembly  of  States  General  in 
Prussia  may  be  of  interest,  to  see  whether  the  German  people 
had  a  legitimate  cause  to  resort  to  a  revolution  and  demand 
law  and  order. 

It  was  as  early  as  the  22nd  of  May,  1815,  that  the  late 
ling  of  Prussia  issued  a  decree,  declaring  that  a  representa- 
tion of  the  people  should  be  formed,  and  that  for  this  purpose 
provincial  diets  should  be  restored  in  those  provinces  where 
they  had  formerly  existed,  and  should  be  instituted  where  they 
had  not  existed ;  that  of  these  provincial  diets  a  general  as- 
sembly of  representatives  should  be  chosen  to  meet  at  Berlin, 
and  the  power  of  these  representatives  should  extend  to  the 
deliberation  on  all  subjects  of  legislation  which  concern  the 
rights  of  person  and  property  of  citizens,  including  taxation  ; 
that  without  delay  a  committee  should  be  appointed,  consisting 
of  intelligent  statesmen  and  citizens  of  the  provinces,  whose 
duty  it  should  be,  first,  to  organize  the  provincial  diets,  sec- 
ondly, the  general  diet  of  the  kindgom,  thirdly,  to  frame  a 
constitution. 

This  committee  met  on  the  1st  of  September  following ;  but 
all  that  resulted  from  it  was  the  decree  of  the  5th  of  June, 
1823,  concerning  the  establishment  of  provincial  diets.  The 
king,  at  the  same  time,  reserved  to  himself  the  decision  when 
the  callmg  together  of  the  States  General  should  be  necessary, 
and  how  they  should  be  formed  out  of  the  provincial  Estates. 
This  law  provided,  first,  that  the  possession  of  real  estate 
should  be  the  qualification  of  the  members,  that  to  them  should 
be  submitted  for  deliberation  all  propositions  of  laws  which 
concern  the  province  alone ;  secondly,  so  long  as  there  existed 
no  General  Diet  of  Estates,  propositions  of  such  general  laws 
which  relate  to  alterations  of  rights  regarding  persons  and 
property  and  taxes,  in  so  far  as  they  concern  the  province, 
should  be  laid  before  them  for  deliberation  ;  thirdly,  petitions 
and  complaints  which  relate  to  the  especial  welfare  and  inter- 
est  of  the  province  should  be  received  and  examined  by  the 
king,  who  would  then  give  his  determination  concerning  them. 

It  was  also  provided  that  desirable  changes  in  these  special 
laws  should  be  had  only  upon  consulting  the  provincial  diets. 
It  must  be  borne  in  mmd,  however,  that  these  provincial  diets 
had  no  legislative  power,  but  had  merely  to  give  their  opinion 
on  the  proposed  laws  which  the  crown  should  lay  before  them ; 
the  crown  could,  nevertheless,  issue  such  laws  as  it  pleased. 


161  The  Germm  BeifohMon  of  1848.         [March, 

Preyions  to  ijiifl,  another  decree  or  law  had  been  issued, 
bearing  date  the  17th  of  January,  1820,  concerning  the 
adnunistration  of  the  state  debts,  which  stated : 

^*  We  declare  this  account  of  the  state  debts  fcfr  ever  dosed. 
Over  and  above  the  sums  therein  stated,  no  certificate  of  state 
debt  or  any  other  document  concerning  the  state  debt  shall  be 
issued. 

'*  If  the  state  should  in  future  be  obliged,  for  its  preservation, 
or  for  the  furthering  of  the  general  good,  to  take  up  a  new  loan, 
then  this  can  be  done  only  with  the  cooperation  and  under  the 
guarantee  of  the  future  assembly  of  the  States  General" 

By  this  same  decree,  a  board  of  adnunistration  of  state 
debts  was  instituted,  consisting  of  four  persons,  and  it  was 
established  that  the  members  thereof  should  in  future  be  pro- 
posed by  the  assembly  of  the  States  Creneral,  and  furthermore, 
"  the  board  of  administration  of  state  debts  should  be  obliged 
to  give  a  yearly  account  to  the  future  diet  of  the  States  Gene- 
ral ; "  and  "  until  the  meeting  of  the  States  General,  a  deputa- 
tion consisting  of  the  magistrate  and  the  board  of  administra- 
tion, should  yearly,  after  the  account  had  been  rendered,  take 
into  safe  keeping  the  redeemed  documents  of  state  debts,  and 
take  measures  for  the  separate  and  safe  deposit  of  the  same." 

These  were  the  three  principal  decrees  or  laws  issued  by 
the  late  Kmg  Frederick  William  III.,  granted  of  his  own  free 
will  and  absolute  sovereign  power,  which  continued  unabated, 
and  was  transmitted  to  the  present  incumbent  of  the  Prussian 
throne.  Thirty-two  years  had  the  subjects  of  this  kingdom 
waited  patientiy  for  the  fulfilment  of  the  law  of  1815,  and 
that  of  the  tlurteenth  article  of  the  act  of  confederation. 
Finally,  on  the  third  of  February,  1847,  the  hope  of  the  people 
so  long  deferred  was  to  be  realized,  and  expectation  was  at  the 
highest,  though  the  seven  years'  reign  of  the  present  king 
allowed  no  one  to  expect  the  most  Uberal  of  grants.  But  the 
people  were  stunned  and  paralyzed  when  the  letters  patent  of 
the  king  were  made  public.  After  stating  in  the  preamble 
that  it  had  ever  been  his  anxious  care  to  develop  the  relations 
of  the  Estates  of  the  kingdom,  and  that  it  was  one  of  the 
weightiest  problems  laid  by  God  upon  him  to  solve,  and  that 
in  doing  so  he  had  had  a  twofold  aim,  namely,  to  transmit  the 
rights,  the  dignity,  and  the  power  of  the  crown  inherited  from 
his  ancestors,  intact  and  unabated  to  his  successors,  but  at  the 
same  time  to  grant  to  the  Estates  that  cooperation  which  was 


1849.]  The  Germm  Bevolutim  af  1848.  166 

in  harmony  with  those  ri^ts  and  the  peculiar  relations  of  the 
kingdom,  he  continued : . 

"In  respect  whereof — continoing  to  build  on  the  laws  given 
by  my  royal  &ther,  particularly  on  the  ordinance  respecting  the 
national  debt  of  the  17th  of  January,  1820,  and  on  the  law 
respecting  the  formation  of  provincial  diets  of  the  5th  of  June, 
1823  —  we  decree  as  follows : 

^^  L  As  often  as  the  wants  of  the  state  may  require  either  fresh 
loans  or  the  introduction  of  new  taxes,  or  the  increase  of  them, 
we  will  call  together  around  us  the  provincial  diets  of  the  king- 
dom in  a  Unit^  Diet,  in  order,  first,  to  call  into  play  that  cooper- 
ation of  the  diets  provided  by  the  ordinance  respecting  the  na- 
tional debt,  and,  second,  to  assure  us  of  their  consent. 

"  n.  We  will  call  together,  at  periodical  times,  a  committee  of 
the  United  Diet 

**  ni.  To  the  United  Diet,  and,  as  its  representcUivey  to  the 
committee  of  the  United  Diet,  we  entrust : 

"  a.  In  reference  to  the  counsel  of  the  diet  in  matters  of  legisla- 
tion, the  same  cooperation  which  was  assigned  to  the  provincial 
diets  by  the  law  of  1823. 

"6.  The  cooperation  of  the  diet  in  paying  the  interest  on  and  in 
liquidating  the  state  debts,  provided  by  law  of  Jan.  17th,  1820, 
in  so  far  as  such  business  is  not  confided  to  the  deputation  of  the 
diet  for  the  national  debt 

^c.  The  right  of  petition  upon  internal  affairs  that  are  not 
merely  provincial." 

This  now  was  the  great  work,  the  result  of  thirty-two  years' 
deliberation ;  and  this  deliberation  would  have  been  protracted 
still  longer,  if  the  crown  had  not  been  sadly  in  want  of  money, 
and  no  banker  was  willing  to  engage  a  loan  without  the  consent 
of  the  States  General,  according  to  the  law  of  1820.  This 
royal  decree  cannot  possibly  be  called  a  constitution,  nor  did  the 
royal  author  consider  it  as  such,  as  he  himself  declared,  in  his 
royal  speech  delivered  at  the  opening  of  the  diet,  on  the  11th 
of  Apnl,  1847 ;  nay,  he  distinctly  declared  that  the  absolute 
monarchial  power  should  be  sustdned  by  him  intact  and  unim- 
piured,  and  in  accordance  with  this,  the  people  have  no  rights 
whatsoever,  except  those  granted  by  the  crown.  But,  in  the 
present  instance,  the  king  recognized  not  even  former  laws 
issued  by  his  predecessor,  but  vindicated  to  himself  the  right 
0^'  giving  such  interpretation  to  past  laws,  and  carry  out  such 
thereof  and  as  much  thereof  as  he  saw  fit  and  proper.  The 
royal  speech  is  a  fit  commentary  on  the  letters  patent,  by  some 


166  The  German  Bevolutkm  of  1848.         [March, 

called  a  constitution,  and  as  such  must  be  noticed  here.  It 
occupied,  in  printing,  nine  large  octavo  pages,  of  which  we 
will  give  here  a  few  passages,  from  which  it  will  appear  that 
this  document  stands  prominent  among  all  royal  speeches  of 
Europe  for  insolence  and  foul-heartedness.  The  royal  orator 
speaks,  for  instance,  as  follows :  — 

^<  I  feel  myself  impelled  to  make  the  solemn  declaration :  that 
no  power  on  earth  shall  ever  succeed  in  inducing  ME  to  change 
the  natural  relation  between  the  Prince  and  the  people,  which  is, 
especially  with  us,  so  powerful  through  its  living  truth,  into  a 
conventional  and  constitutional  one,  and  that  I  shall  never  allow 
a  written  piece  of  paper  to  force  itself  like  a  second  providence, 
so  to  speak,  between  our  Lord  God  in  Heaven  and  this  country, 
in  order  to  rule  us  by  its  paragraphs  and  by  them  to  supply  the 
old  sacred  loyalty.'* 

"It  has  been  Gk)d's  pleasure  to  make  Prussia  great  through  the 
sword,  through  the  sword  of  war  externally,  and  through  the  sword 
of  the  spirit  internally,  but  surely  not  through  that  of  the  negative 
spirit  of  the  age,  but  through  that  of  the  spirit  of  order  and  subor- 
dination,  I  proclaim  it,  gentlemen :  As  in  the  camp,  without  the 
greatest  pressing  danger  and  greatest  folly,  only  one  will  is  allowed 
to  command,  so  the  destinies  of  this  land,  if  it  shall  not  instantly 
fall  from  its  height,  can  only  be  guided  by  one  will,  and  if  the 
king  of  Prussia  should  commit  an  outrage  by  demanding  from  his 
subjects  the  obedience  of  a  slave,  he  would  surely  commit  a  far 
greater  outrage  if  he  should  not  demand  from  them  that  which  is 
the  crown  of  the  free  man,  obedience  for  the  sake  of  God  and 
conscience." 

"You,  gentlemen,  are  Grerman  states,  in  the  old  established 
meaning  of  the  word,  that  is,  above  all  and  essentially  '  advocates 
and  curators  of  your  proper  rights,'  and  of  the  rights  of  the  states 
whose  confidence  has  sent  the  greater  part  of  you  here.  Beside 
this  you  have  to  exercise  the  rights  which  the  crown  has  granted 
you.  Moreover,  you  are  conscientiouMy  to  give  to  the  crown  the 
advice  which  it  a^ks  from  you.  Finally  you  have  the  liberty  of 
laying  before  the  throne,  but  only  after  mature  examination,  j!7tf^t- 
tions  and  complaints,  taken  from  your  sphere  of  action  and  from 
your  range  of  vision^ 

"  These  are  the  rights,  and  these  the  duties  of  German  states, 
and  this  is  your  glorious  calling.  But  it  is  not  your  calling  *  to 
represent  opinions,*  and  to  make  prevalent  the  opinions  of  the 
schools  and  of  the  age.    This  is  thoroughly  nn-German,  and  be- 


1849.]  The  German  Eevolution  of  1848.  167 

sidea  thoroaghlj  unpraGticable  for  the  welfare  of  the  whole,  for  it 
leads  to  indissoluble  entaDglements  with  the  ctowd,  which  is  to 
ole  according  to  the  law  of  God  and  of  the  land,  and  according 
to  its  otcn  free  unll;  but  must  not  and  cannot  rule  according  to 
tlie  unll  of  majorities,  if  Prussia  shall  not  soon  become  an  empty 
sound  in  Europe.'' 

The  speech  had  the  beneficial  effect  of  uniting  at  once  the 
liberal  members  of  the  different  provinces.  The  representatives 
from  the  provinces  of  Prussia  and  Silesia,  who  already  before 
had  desired  to  declare  themselves  incompetent,  and  thus  thiow 
to  the  government  the  gauntlet,  now  wanted  to  leave  Berlin 
directly.  The  more  practical  Rhinelanders,  however,  dissuad- 
ed them  from  doing  so,  by  stating  that  a  calm  perseverance 
and  an  actual  be^ning  of  the  fight  would  be  both  better  and 
braver  than  leaving  .the  field  before  the  battle.  They  now 
agreed  to  move  an  address  as  an  answer  to  the  speech  from  the 
throne,  although  the  order  of  business,  minutely  prescribed  by 
the  king,  had  not  mentioned  such  a  procedure.  This  motion 
was  accordingly  made  and  carried,  without  any  resistance  on 
the  part  of  the  royal  commissary,  the  minister  of  the  interior. 
The  idea  and  plan  was  to  express,  in  this  address,  a  reserva- 
tion of  all  the  rights  which  the  previous  laws,  particularly 
those  of  1820  and  1823,  which  we  have  stated  at  large 
before,  had  given  to  the  states,  and  which  this  new  law,  estab- 
lishing the  present  general  diet,  had  broken  and  violated. 
They  wished  to  stand  on  a  legal  ground  solely,  which  they  now 
saw  breaking  from  underneath  them,  and  threatening  the  over- 
throw of  all  existing  social  and  political  order.  They  main- 
tained, that  since  the  laws  and  royal  decrees  of  June  5th,  1823, 
and  January  17th,  1820,  were  pretended  to  have  been  carried 
out  and  fulfilled  by  calling  together  a  general  diet  of  the  king- 
dom, this  diet  of  the  States  General  had  acquired  and  now 
possessed  all  the  rights  founded  upon  and  given  in  those  laws ; 
namely,  that  the  law  of  1820  made  it  the  duty  of  the  depart- 
ment or  board  of  administration  of  the  state  debts  to  give  an 
annual  account  to  the  assembly  of  the  State$  General^  and 
that  thereby  this  stated  periodical  return  of  the  general  diet 
was  guaranteed ;  that  this  same  law  decreed  the  cooperation 
and  guarantee  of  the  general  diet  not  only  in  regard  to  loans, 
for  which  the  whole  collective  property  of  the  state  was  to  be 
given  as  security,  or  which  served  for  purposes  of  peace ;  but 
iJso  in  regard  to  every  new  loan^  which  the  state  should  be 
obliged  to  take  up  for  its  preservation,  or  the  promotion  of  the 
general  welfare. 


168  The  Gtmum  BevobOhn  rf  1848.        [Mardb^ 

Farther,  they  declared  that  the  guarantee  of  state  debts  was 
essentially  dependent  upon  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the 
financial  condition  of  the  state,  and  upon  the  condition  of  the 
property  of  the  state,  by  reason  of  which  the  cooperation  of 
the  diet  in  the  disposition  of  the  domains  which  goes  beyond 
the  articles  of  the  law  of  1820,  formed  a  part  of  its  rights. 

Further,  that  the  law  of  1823  decreed,  that  so  long  as  no 
general  diet  of  the  states  should  ti^e  place,  the  propositions 
of  general  laws  should  be  laid  before  the  provincial  diets,  but 
that  by  the  actual  constitution  and  establishment  of  the  gener- 
al diet,  this  enactment  had  naturally  ex^nred,  so  that  now  the 
general  diet  must  be  consulted  in  regard  to  all  general  laws 
which  contemplated  changes  concerning  the  rights  of  persons 
and  property,  and  concerning  taxes,  and  that  this  legal  right 
could  not  be  transfered  upon  the  provisional  diets,  nor  upon 
the  assembly  of  the  united  committees,  as  decreed  in  this  new 
law  of  February,  1847. 

These  were  the  rights,  which  were  claimed  as  rights,  based 
upon  laws  in  existence  before  the  new  decree,  and  they  were 
manftilly  maintained  by  able  speakers,  of  whom  we  wUl  only 
name  as  the  most  prominent,  Berkerath,  Hauseman,  and 
Camphausen  of  the  Rhenish  Province,  and  Von  Vincke  of 
Westphalia,  men  on  whom,  at  this  present  moment,  the  king 
depends  for  his  sole  support  and  safety.  The  sentiments  and 
principles  of  the  crown  had  already  been  plainly  expressed  by 
the  king  in  his  speech,  and  through  the  letter  patent  itself;  but 
they  were  now  opeiJy  stated  agsdn,  and  defended  by  the 
servants,  and  advocates,  and  servile  followers  of  the  crown, 
and  thus  an  open  proclamation  and  declaration  was  made  in 
fiEice  of  the  whole  world,  that  the  sixteen  millions  of  people  of 
the  Prussian  kingdom  had  no  rights  and  could  not  clium  a 
legal  ground  for  any  rights,  but  that  they  depended  solely 
upon  the  grace  and  absolute  will  of  their  sovereign  and  king. 
All  the  arguments  which  they  could  oppose  to  the  able  demon- 
strations of  the  advocates  of  law  and  order,  the  liberal  repre- 
sentatives, were  but  variations  or  a  decided  repetition  of  the 
t^eme  in  the  king's  speech,  that,  as  heir  to  an  unimpaired  crown, 
he  knew  himself  to  be  perfectly  free  from  any  obligation  in 
regard  to  thmgs  that  had  not  been  carried  out,  and  ^^  that  no 
power  on  earth  would  succeed  in  inducing  him  to  change  the 
relation  between  the  prince  and  the  people  into  a  conventional 
and  constitutional  one.''  The  ministers  of  justice,  Uhden  and 
Lavigny,  the  jurist  of  European  reputation,  standing  at  the 


1849.]  The  Otrman  Bm^gbUionqf  1846.  169 

head  of  the  historical  school  in  law,  argaed  in  this  same  man- 
ner; nay,  the  former,  XJhden,  said  quite  naively  that  the 
contest  about  the  legal  point  was  of  no  use,  since  the  question 
here  was  about  the  interpretation  of  laws,  42Qj^e  correctness 
or  incorrectness  of  which  not  the  assembly  but^e  king  had 
to  decide ;  and  that  he  had  already  decided^^d  hence  the 
question  of  legality  had  been  disposed  of.  The  Words  ^'  Stat 
pro  ratione  voluntaSj^  were  never  more  strictiy  applied.  It 
was  asserted,  that  the  ground  taken  in  the  address  to  the  king 
— that  the  states  had  certain  rights,  flowing  from  previous  laws 
— could  not  be  maintained,  because  it  was  not  in  harmony  with 
the  fundamental  principle  of  absolute  and  unlimited  power  in 
the  crown ;  that  the  present  king  was  not  bound  by  the  laws  of 
his  predecessor,  but  could  mterpret  them  as  he  liked,  or  could 
annul  them  at  pleasure ;  and  this  present  decree  of  February 
was  given  from  the  king's  own  free  will  and  grace,  as  a  boon, 
which  the  giver  could  withdraw  when  he  pleased.  The  states, 
therefore,  could  not  demand  any  rights,  or  reserve  to  them- 
selves any  rights  based  upon  previous  laws;  all  that  they 
could  do  was  to  ask  his  Majesty  to  give  them  certain  laws. 
An  amendment  to  this  effect  was  adopted,  and  thus  the  liberal 
party  for  law  and  order  defeated.  It  must  be  understood, 
however,  that  the  two  houses  were  convened  in  joint  ballot. 
A  Protest  or  Reservation  of  rights,  specifying  the  rights  guar^ 
anteed  by  former  laws  and  violated  by  tiie  new  decree,  was 
then  presented,  signed  by  one  hundred  and  thirty-eight  mem- 
bers, to  be  inserted  in  the  record  of  the  house ;  but  the  mar- 
shal refused  to  receive  and  record  it. 

Mention  must  be  made  of  a  petition  which  came  under 
discussion,  touching  the  freedom  of  religious  belief,  and  the 
relation  of  religion  to  political  rights.  According  to  the  Peace 
of  Westphalia,  three  religious  parties  were  recognized ;  name- 
ly, The  Catholic,  the  Lutheran,  and  the  Reformed.  The 
union  of  the  two  latter  was  established  in  Prussia  under  the 
name  of  Evangelical  Church.  A  special  '^  Evangelical  Church 
Liturgy  "  was  introduced  in  Prussia  in  1821,  and  more  or  less 
forced  upon  the  congregations.  A  decree  of  1834  compelled, 
dso,  all  churches  not  united  to  adopt  the  liturgy,  (Agendo,) 
but  many  Lutherans  resisted,  and  emigrated  in  consequence. 
The  present  king^  in  1846,^  allowed  those  Old  Lutherans,  as 
they  are  designated,  to  constitute  independent  congregations. 
Nevertheless,  the  king's  design,  from  the  ^beginning  of  his 
reign,  had  been  to  establish  the  so  called  '^  '(^j^tian  State/' 

NO.  VI.  12  ' 


170  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.         [March, 

which  means  that  Christianity,  as  a  dogmatic  system^  shjdl  be 
recognized  as  the  highest  principle,  and  be  carried  out  by  the 
goverament,  applying  it  to  civU  laws  and  other  relations  of 
state,  so  that  only  Christians  shall  have  full  civic  rights.  But 
one  could  not  stop  here  :  the  state  could  recognize  only  those 
parties  as  Christians  who  adhered  to  the  Christian  dogmatic 
system  approved  by  the  head  of  the  state  ;  and  the  dissenters 
from  this  state-Christian  church  were  tolerated  only  on  re- 
strictive conditions,  but  had  not  the  usual  political  rights.  In 
other  states  Prussia  was  imitated  in  this  respect,  and  in  the 
Electorate  of  Hesse  the  government  went  so  far  as  to  exclude 
the  German  Catholics  from  holding  a  solemn  funeral  service. 
Prussia  sought,  also,  in  an  indirect  way,  to  enforce  her  pecu- 
liar Christian  church  upon  her  subjects.  In  filling  important 
offices,  the  government  often  looked  more  upon  the  Prussian 
Christianity;  than  the  capacity  of  the  candidates.  It  once 
happened  that  a  representative  was  rejected  on  account  of  his " 
German  Catholic  faith. 

A  petition  was  now  introduced  and  passed  by  both  houses, 
requesting  the  king  to  alter  the  law  in  so  far  that  the  qualifi- 
cation of  electors  and  representatives  should  no  longer  depend 
upon  their  connection  with  one  of  the  Christian  churches,  but 
that  all  who  profess  to  belong  to  the  Christian  reli^on  should 
have  the  right  of  franchise. 

This  petition,  however,  together  with  three  others,  though 
presented  by  a  majority  of  two  thirds  of  both  chambers,  was 
entirely  ignored  by  the  king — a  proceeding  unheard  of  before, 
as  the  ordinary  mode  had  been  for  the  king  either  to  reject  a 
petition  or  to  promise  to  consider  it.  He  could  not  have  man- 
ifested more  strongly  his  contempt  for  the  Estates  and  their 
relation  to  the  crown. 

Our  space  does  not  allow  us  to  enter  further  into  the  pro- 
ceedings of  this  first  united  diet  of  Prussia. 

We  hope  that  it  will  appear,  from  the  brief  statement  we 
have  given  above,  that  the  very  act  for  which  the  king  of 
Prussia  was  lauded  abroad,  was  a  gross  infringement  and  vio- 
lation of  law  and  the  rights  of  the  people ;  and,  at  the  same 
time,  that  the  champions  of  law  and  order  and  the  People's 
Rights  used  their  utmost  exertions  to  obtain  and  secure  Ihese 
rights  in  a  peaceable  manner.  Years  before,  similar  champions 
of  liberty  had  sprung  up  m  all  the  difierent  states,  and  partic- 
ularly in  the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden,  where  such  as  Itzstein, 
Welcker,  Bassermann,  Hecker,  had  fought  for  the  people's 


1849.]  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.  171 

cause  without  weariness,  and  had  l<H)g  ago  prepared  for  a 
general  demand  of  rights,  which  the  beginning  of  the  year 
1848  has  heard  repeated  from  all  the  thirty-eight  states  of 
Germany  at  once,  and  it  must  not  be  thought  that  it  was  only 
the  outbreak  in  France  which  made  these  claims  spring  up 
suddenly  and  by  accident.  As  a  proof  of  this  we  will  only  refer 
to  the  fact  that  it  was  as  early  as  the  fifth  of  February  last  that 
in  the  second  chamber,  in  Baden,  a  petition  to  the  Duke  was 
moved,  that  he  would  take  proper  steps  to  effect  a  representa- 
tion of  the  German  states  at  the  diet  in  Frankfort,  for  the 
purpose  of  creating  a  uniform  German  legislation  and  national 
institutions.  A  newspaper, "  The  Suabian  Mercury,"  published 
at  the  same  time  .ten  petitions  from  Heidelberg,  which  asked 
for  the  restoration  of  the  liberty  of  the  press,  and  freedom  of 
religion,  a  general  arming  of  the  people,  that  the  military 
should  be  sworn  upon  the  constitution,  and  the  sectarian 
schoob  changed  into  general  schools  of  the  people ;  for  a  code 
of  police  laws,  and  the  transfer  of  the  power  of  punishment 
for  police  offences  to  the  regular  courts ;  for  regulations  re- 
garding the  communes,  and  checking  the  accumulation  of 
landed  property  in  the  hands  of  speculators ;  for  the  estab- 
lishment of  trial  by  jury,  a  representation  of  the  people  at 
the  diet,  and  the  abolition  of  capital  punishment.  We  enu- 
merate these  demands,  for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  the 
wishes  of  the  people  were  of  a  decided  character  before  the 
revolution  had  broken  out  in  France.  This  event  was,  how- 
ever, the  external  impulse  which  concentrated  the  courage  of 
the  people,  and  enabled  them  to  speak  with  authority. 

The  apparently  sudden  convention  of  fifty  men,  from  differ- 
ent states  in  Germany,  who  stood  forth,  at  once,  as  an  execu- 
tive committee,  to  call  together  a  general  congress  of  repre- 
sentatives from  the  whole  of  Germany,  and  thus  to  effect  a 
national  union  of  the  German  people,  had  been  prepared  for 
years  before,  and  now  only  stood  prominent  to  public  view 
when  the  curtain  could  with  safety  be  drawn  aside.  After 
the  disgraceful  humiliation  of  Germany,  as  one  nation,  which 
had  been  effected  by  her  princes  during  two  centuries,  and 
after  she  had  sunk  to  the  lowest  degree  of  debasement  through 
the  high  treason  of  the  princes,  who  entered  into  a  league 
under  the  protection  of  Napoleon  against  their  common  native 
country — it  was  the  years  1813,  '14,  and  '15  which  saw  once 
more  a  feeling  of  nationality  and  patriotism  kindle  in  the  Ger- 
man breast,  and  all  the  people  of  the  different  states  unite  to 


172  The  German  Revolvtum  of  1848.        [March, 

shake  off  the  foreign  yoke.  The  deeds  which  the  generons 
enthusiasm  of  united  Germany  then  performed  will  for  ever 
remain  stamped  upon  the  page  of  her  history  in  hold  relief. 
But  the  treachery  of  the  princes  was  displayed  again  in  tiie 
formation  of  the  new  confederation.  The  political  education 
of  the  people  at  large  had  not  yet  heen  sufficiently  devel- 
oped to  maJke  them  feel  this  deception,  so  as  to  resort  at  once 
to  proper  means  for  ensuring  their  liberty  and  union.  There 
were  but  few  men  who  stood  forth  to  combat  the  internal  foe ; 
and  the  spirit  of  liberty  and  national  union  burned  with  noble 
enthusiasm  only  in  the  hearts  of  the  young  men  at  the  univer- 
sities, who  united  in  that  much  persecuted  association,  the 
"  Burschenschaft."  The  states  were  again  separate  bodies, 
and  the  patriots  in  each  had  to  struggle  against  the  ruthless 
hands  of  their  princes,  to  save  and  establish,  in  some  measure, 
the  political  rights  of  their  fellow-citizens.  The  French  revo- 
lution of  1830  awoke  again  the  national  feeling  that  had  fallen 
asleep,  and  the  desire  fbr  a  national  union  led  to  some  popu- 
lar assemblies,  which  attempted  to  accomplish  their  object  by 
force,  but  were  soon  suppregsed.  An  assembly  or  union  of 
delegates  or  representatives  of  the  people  of  the  different 
states  was  not  thought  of  then,  because  they  were  too  much 
taken  up  with  the  battles  in  their  own  individual  states  ;  and, 
moreover,  such  an  attempt  would  have  at  once  been  regarded 
as  high  treason,  and  the  individuals  would  have  been  sub- 
jected to  imprisonment,  banishment,  and  even  death.  It  was, 
however,  natural  that  the  general  oppression  and  persecution 
of  the  patriots  in  the  different  states,  should  bring  them  to- 
gether, at  last,  to  consult  together  and  try  to  act  according  to 
some  concerted  plan.  The  noble-hearted  men  of  Baden  were 
also  the  movers  in  this  attempt  at  establishing  a  union.  It 
was  in  the  year  1889  that,  upon  the  invitation  of.  Von  Itzstein 
and  Welcker,  several  distinguished  men  of  Baden  and  Saxony 
came  together  at  Hattersheim.  In  the  subsequent  years  sim- 
ilar assemblies  of  representatives  of  different  states  and  a  few 
other  worthy  men,  were  held  every  year,  either  at  the  mansion 
of  Von  Itzstein,  or  at  Leipsic,  or  somewhere  else.  The  num- 
ber increased  every  year,  and  in  the  latter  years  almost  every 
state  found  itself  represented,  yet  the  number  never  exceeded 
fifty. 

These  assemblies  were  neither  secret  nor  public,  but  resem- 
bled more  a  free,  social  gathering.  The  members  abstained 
from  speaking  of  them  in  newspapers,  in  order  not  to  provoke 


1849.]  The  aerman  RevoluUon  of  1848.  173 

persecution,  which,  in  those  times,  was  directed  against  men 
who  took  the  most  legal  of  steps ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  no 
'  secret  was  made  of  them,  which  might  have  been  fatal  to  them 
in  case  of  a  prosecution.  The  advantage  which  these  yearly 
gathering?  produced  is  evident.  The  men  from  the  different 
states  became  acquainted,  exchanged  ideas,  agreed  on  requi- 
site steps  for  the  future,  and  perhaps  on  propositions  to  be 
moved  in  the  different  German  chambers.  It  was  not  till  the 
autumn  of  1847,  that  the  assembly  which  was  held  at  Hep- 
penheim  gave  a  report  of  their  proceedings  in  the  public 
papers,  as  the  age  had  somewhat  advanced,  and  in  conse- 
quence danger  was  less  imminent. 

After  the  events  in  France,  in  February,  no  intelligent  per- 
son could  doubt  of  the  danger  which  threatened  Germany,  and 
at  the  same  time,  that  this  was  the  best  opportunity  to  obtain 
freedom  and  union  for  Germany.  In  order  to  ward  off  the 
dangers  from  abroad  and  protect  the  country,  a  more  power- 
ful and  central  point  of  the  whole  people  was  needea  than 
that  which  the  ^'  German  Confederation^'  afforded.  To  pro- 
cure such  a  central  point  was  ^the  problem  of  the  German 
people.  The  demand  for  a  "German  Parliament"  proceed- 
mg  from  Manheim  in  Baden,  had  already  reechoed  in  a  great 
part  of  Germany,  and  nothing  was  more  natural  than  that 
those  men  who  had  attended  the  above  mentioned  annual 
assemblies  should  take  the  first  steps  to  call  into  existence  a 
German  national  representation.  There  was  not  time  enough 
to  call  all  together  from  the  remoter  parts  and  wait  for  their 
coming ;  therefore,  those  nearest  at  hand  were  invited.  The 
men  of  Baden  again  issued  this  invitation  to  those  known  to 
them  from  their  former  meetings,  and  to  a  few  other  men  of 
like  sentiments,  to  convene  on  the  fifth  of  March  at  Heidel- 
berg. On  this  day  fifty-one  men,  almost  all  representatives 
in  their  respective  states,  from  Prussia,  Bavaria,  Wurtemburg, 
Baden,  Hesse,  Nassau,  and  Frankfort,  came  together  therC) 
to  consult  on  the  most  pressing  measures  necessary  for  their 
common  country.  They  were  unanimously  of  opinion  that 
the  restoration  and  defence  of  the  freedom,  union,  independ- 
ence, and  the  honor  of  the  German  nation  must  be  sought  to 
be  accomplished  by  a  cooperation  of  all  the  German  tribes ; 
and  that  the  sad  experience  regarding  the  inefficiency  of  the 
German  diet  at  Frankfort  had  shaken  all  confidence  in  the 
same,  so  that  an  application  to  it  would  call  forth  the  bitterest 
feelings  in  all  citizens,  since  this  same  body,  which  now  pub- 


174  The  German  Revolution  of  1848.         [March, 

lished  a  flattering  call  to  the  people  (it  had  put  forth  such  a 
call  on  the  third  of  March,)  to  stand  by  their  princes,  had  here-  ^ 
tofore  strictly  forbidden  all  petitions  of  the  people  to  the  same. 
They  were  unanimously  of  opinion  that  the  German  nation 
must  not  interfere  with  the  political  affairs  of  another  nation ; 
and  that  there  must  be  a  National  Assembly  of  representatives 
chosen  according  to  the  number  of  the  people ;  and  that  as 
soon  as  possible  a  larger  assembly  of  men  worthy  of  confidence 
must  be  called  together  from  all  the  German  states,  to  consult 
together  and  cooperate  with  the  present  government  in  order 
to  establish  this  National  Assembly. 

A  committee  of  seven  was  appointed  to  call  the  preliminary 
national  assembly  and  make  the  necessary  preparations  for  its 
meeting.  This  committee  sent  an  invitation  to  all  past  and 
present  members  of  the  diflerent  chambers  of  representatives 
in  all  German  lands,  (East  and  West  Prussia  and  Schleswig- 
Holstein  of  course  included,)  and  to  some  other  distinguished 
men  sharing  the  public  coniBdence,  who  were  not  representa- 
tives, to  assemble  on  the  31st  of  March  at  Frankfort.  About 
five  hundred  and  fifty  men  came  together  in  consequence  of 
this  call,  and  Professor  Mittermaier,  the  celebrated  jurist  of 
Heidelberg,  was  chosen  President.  A  programme  of  the 
subjects  of  discussion  had  been  prepared  by  the  committee  of 
seven.     It  contained  the  following  propositions  : 

1.  To  have  a  Chief  of  the  German  Union,  with  responsible 
ministers. 

2.  A  Senate,  from  the  individual  states. 

3.  A  House  of  the  People,  on  the  basis  of  one  represent- 
ative for  every  70,000. 

4>  Competent  power  of  the  union  and  the  individual  states, 
to  give  up  to  the  central  government  their  rights  on  the  fol- 
lowing points :  rt,  a  national  army ;  J,  negotiation  with  foreign 
states ;  c^  a  system  of  commerce,  maiine  laws,  duties,  coins, 
measures,  weights,  ports,  highways  by  water,  and  rail-roads. 

5.  Harmony  of  civil  and  criminal  legislation  and  judicial 
procedure  :  a  Federal  Court. 

6.  A  Constituent  National  Assembly  on  the  above  basis, 
established  by  the  governments,  supported  by  men  of  confi- 
dence. 

7.  A  Permanent  Committee,  chosen  by  this  present  assem- 
bly, to  effect  the  meeting  of  the  constituent  national  assembly. 

If  this  Constituent  Assembly  should  not  convene  within  four 
weeks,  then  this  present  assembly  should  meet  again  on  the 


1849.]  The  aerman  BevoluUm  of  1848.  175 

third  and  fourth  of  May.     The  Committee  might,  m  case  of 
need,  call  the  Assembly  before  then. 

A  conmiittee  of  fifty  was  chosen  to  cooperate  with  the  con- 
federation of  princes  to  effect  the  election  of  the  Constituent 
Assembly.  This  met  and  opened  its  sittings  on  the  1st  of  May, 
and  on  the  29th  of  June  chose  a  Vicar  of  the  future  empire, 
which  choice  fell  upon  Archduke  John  of  Austria.  A  special 
committee  of  seventeen  had  also  drafted  a  constitution,  which 
was  laid  before  the  Constituent  Assembly,  and  is  at  this  mo- 
ment the  subject  of  deliberation. 

The  principal  features  of  their  projected  constitution  are 
essentially  different  from  any  thing  that  Germany  has  had 
before.  Although  the  idea  of  restoring  the  old  Germanic 
empire  and  imion  under  it  has  been  the  general  watchword, 
yet  we  find  the  new  sketch  entirely  different  from  the  one  we 
have  before  given  of  the  old  empire,  and  very  properly  so. 
All  the  present  Germanic  states  are  to  form  one  Federal  State 
with  an  hereditary  chief,  called  emperor,  at  the  head  of  the 
government.  The  independence  of  the  different  German 
states  wliich  constitute  the  confederation  is  maintained,  but  is 
limited  so  far  as  the  unity  of  Germany  demands  it.  This  lim- 
itation consists,  partiy,  in  this :  that  some  special  affairs  of  state 
shall  come  under  the  exclusive  dominion  of  the  imperial  power ; 
and  in  part,  that  certain  fundamental  rights  and  certain  insti- 
tutions are  guaranteed  to  the  people.  The  rights  and  duties, 
of  the  federal  government  are  essentially  the  same  which  are 
reserved  for  our  American  federal  government,  and  those  of 
the  emperor  are  the  same  with  our  president,  except  that  his 
person  is  inviolable  and  irresponsible,  but  his  ministers  are 
responsible,  and  all  ordinances  emanating  from  him  must  be 
signed  by  at  least  one  minister. 

The  Diet  or  Congress  of  the  empire  is  to  consist  of  two 
chambers.  The  maximum  number  of  the  Upper  Chamber  is 
to  be  two  hundred  members,  consisting  of  the  reigning  princes 
or  their  substitutes,  delegates  from  each  of  the  four  free  towns, 
and  councillors  of  the  empire,  being  men  deserving  well  of 
their  country,  to  be  chosen  for  twelve  years,  in  such  a  manner 
that  one  third  of  them  are  renewed  every  four  years.  The 
right  of  election  is  to  be  divided  among  the  different  states  in 
proportion  to  their  population.  In  those  states  which  only 
delegate  one  councillor,  he  is  to  be  appointed  by  the  legisla- 
tures, and  so  in  the  four  free  towns ;  in  those  states  which 
delegate  more  than  one,  one  half  shall  be  appointed  by  the 


176  The  German  RevoluHon  of  1848.         [March, 

legislative  bodies,  the  other  by  the  respective  govemmeiits ;  the 
councillors  of  the  empire  are  to  be  natives  of  the  states  vhieh 
appoint  them,  and  must  have  attained  their  fortieth  year. 

The  Lower  Chamber  shall  consist  of  deputies  of  tiie  people 
chosen  for  six  years — one  third  to  be  renewed  every  two 
years.  One  deputy  is  to  be  returned  for  every  100,000  souls. 
Every  independent  citizen  who  is  of  age,  with  the  exception  of 
those  under  condemnation  for  crime,  is  an  elector,  and  those 
who  have  attained  their  thirtieth  year  are  eligible,  no  matter 
to  what  state  of  Germany  they  belong.  The  functionaries 
elected  need  no  sanction  from  tiie  government.  Each  mem- 
ber of  the  Diet  represents  all  Germany,  and  shall  not  be 
bound  by  instructions.  Each  chamber  is  to  have  the  right 
of  proposing  laws  and  impeachmg  the  ministers.  The  budget 
of  the  empire  is  first  to  pass  through  the  Lower  Chamber. 
The  result  of  the  vote  of  this  latter  can  only  be  rejected  m 
toto  by  the  Upper  Chamber,  who  cannot  change  any  separate 
article.  The  Diet  is  to  meet  annually,  and  the  emperor  may 
call  an  extra  session ;  he  may  also  dissolve  the  same,  but  new 
elections  must  then  take  place  fifteen  days  after  the  dissolu- 
tion ;  if  this  is  not  done,  the  former  diet  shall  meet  three 
months  after  its  dissolution.  The  sittings  of  the  two  chambers 
are  to  be  public. 

A  Court  of  Judicature  of  the  empire,  consisting  of  twenty- 
one  members,  is  also  to  be  instituted.  They  shall  he  appomted 
for  life,  in  part  by  the  emperor  and  in  part  by  the  Lower 
Chamber.  The  jurisdiction  of  this  court  is  mainly  the  same 
with  that  of  our  federal  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States, 
but  it  is  to  have  more  extensive  powers ;  namely,  in  regard  to 
disputes  on  the  order  of  succession,  or  the  required  capacily 
to  govern  in  the  different  states ;  in  regard  to  complaints 
rsdsed  by  private  individuals  against  reigning  princes  and 
against  states ;  in  regard  to  disputes  between  the  government 
of  a  state  and  its  cUet  on  the  validity  of  the  interpretation 
given  to  the  constitution  of  the  state  ;  in  all  cases  where  jus- 
tice has  been  refused,  or  impediments  thrown  in  the  way ;  in 
regard  to  accusations  against  the  mimsters  of  the  empire,  or 
against  the  ministers  of  particular  states.' 

The  fundamental  rights  of  the  German  people  guaranteed 
to  them  are,  in  substance,  a  popular  representation,  with  a 
deliberate  voice  regarding  legislation  and  taxes,  and  the  re- 
sponsibility of  the  ministers ;  a  free  municipal  constitution, 
based  on  an  independent  admixu8trati<m  in  communal  affiurs ; 


1849.]  The  Oerman  BevobOian  qf  1848.  177 

tbe  indopendenqe  of  tribunak,  oral  and  pablic  pleadingB  in  the 
Gonrts  of  justice,  with  trial  bj  jury  for  all  criminal  and  polit- 
ical offences;  the  execution,  throughout  the  whole  of  the 
empire,  of  the  sentences  rendered  by  the  German  tribunals ; 
equality  of  all  classes  as  regards  the  charges  of  the  state  and 
of  the  communes  and  elig^ility  to  office ;  the  establishment 
of  a  national  guard ;  the  right  of  assembling ;  unlimited  right 
of  petition;  the  right  of  appealing  to  the  Diet  against  the  acts 
of  any  functionary,  after  having  appealed  in  vain  to  the  estab- 
lished authorities  and  to  one  of  the  chambers ;  the  freedom  of 
tiie  press  from  all  censorship,  privileges,  and  caution  money, 
and  trial  by  jury  in  offences  of  the  press  ;  guarantee  against 
arbitrary  arrests  and  domiciliary  visits,  by  virtue  of  an  act  of 
habtcLi  corpm  ;  the  right  of  every  citizen  to  reside  anywhere 
in  tiie  empire ;  the  right  of  emigration  ;  religious  liberty,  and 
freedom  of  conscience  in  public  and  private  worship ;  equality 
of  all  religious  sects  as  regards  civil  and  political  rights. 

To  change  the  constitution  of  the  empire,  the  consent  of  tiie 
Diet  and  of  the  Chief  of  the  empire  is  requisite,  and  in  each 
chamber  the  presence  of  three  fourths,  at  least,  of  the  mem- 
bers, and  a  majority  of  three  quarters  of  the  members  present. 

These  are  the  outlines  of  the  constitution  proposed  for  the 
new  German  empire.  No  extravagant  demands  are  made  in 
it;  on  the  contrary,  it  must  surprise  any  one  that  it  was 
thought  necessary  to  insert  provisions  for  certidn  rights  which 
relate  to  personal  safety  and  liberty  of  conscience,  and  might 
have  existed  before  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  absolute 
monarchial  principle  of  government.  The  principal  aim  is  to 
secure  to  the  German  people  a  country  in  common,  so  that 
the  intercourse  of  the  citizens  from  all  parts  shall  be  untram- 
melled and  free,  and  their  political  rights  essentially  the  same 
wherever  they  may  reside,  in  order  to  remove  all  jealousies 
and  sectional  feeling  between  the  members  of  the  same  nation, 
which  it  was  the  interest  of  the  princes  to  engender  and  foster. 

The  question  now  arises.  Will  it  be  possible  to  establish 
this  projected  German  Union  and  establish  the  sovereignty  of 
the  German  people  ? 

The  principal  difficulty  we  conceive  to  be,  the  independent 
sovereignty  which  thirty-four  princes  have  for  a  long  time 
arrogated  to  themselves.  Two  states  among  them,  Prussia 
and  Austria,  have  acquired  a  national  importance  among  the 
great  powers  of  Europe,  so  that  their  names  are  taken  as 
denoting  distinct  nationalities.    Now  they  are  called  upon  to 


178  The  German  Bevolutwn  of  1848.         [ManA, 

lay  aside  all  their  individual  importance,  and  to  be  merged  in 
the  general  German  natdonalt^^;  their  intercourse  widi  for- 
eign nations  is  to  cease,  and  the  central  power  of  all  (rermany 
is  to  assume  the  dignity  which  was  doled  out  in  homoeopathic 
quantities  upon  thirty-eight  distinct  bodies.  The  results  of 
the  wars  that  have  been  waged,  of  the  unhallowed  blood  shed 
in  those  wars,  the  unmitigated  and  unwearied  exertions  made 
with  the  sacrifice  of  all  that  is  holy  and  just,  which  have  made 
Prussia  what  she  now  is,  —  all  this  is  to  be  swept  away  at  one 
swoop,  and  the  king  of  Prussia  is  to  become  a  mere  provincial 
governor  and  an  executive  of  prescribed  laws !  As  regards 
the  princes,  then,  particularly  those  of  the  great  states,  this 
projected  union  calls  forth  a  strife  for  life  or  death.  They  are 
preparing  to  wage  this  battle  with  all  available  means,  and  the 
result  will  and  must  be  most  sanguinary.  Every  post,  ahnost, 
brings  US  new  tidings  of  emeutes  or  mobs,  as  they  are  called, 
in  the  three  principal  cities  —  Berlin,  Vienna,  and  Frankfort, 
the  scenes  of  the  great  drama  now  struggling  through  its  de- 
nouement. All  law  and  order  seem  to  be  subverted,  and  bar- 
barous acts  have  already  been  perpetrated  on  both  sides,  which 
may  stand  by  the  side  of  the  atrocities  witnessed  in  the  first 
French  revolution.  No  one  can  regret  them  more  than  we 
do ;  yet  we  must  say,  that  we  have  been  for  years  waiting  with 
fear  and  dread  for  the  sanguinary  conflict  of  which  we  have 
as  yet  seen,  as  we  believe,  only  the  beginning.  We  look  upon 
it  with  the  same  sympathy  that  we  feel  for  a  man  in  a  raging 
fever,  in  whom  the  seeds  of  disease  have  been  accumulating 
for  years,  and  who  must  now  pass  through  a  crisis  tiie  more 
fearful  the  longer  it  has  been  delayed. 

From  the  grossness  of  the  violation  of  the  natural  rights  of 
the  people  in  Germany,  may  be  inferred  the  magnitude  of  the 
crisis  which  this  country  has  to  go  through  before  a  healthy 
state  will  be  restored.  The  absolutism  in  the  different  states 
must  first  be  crushed.  Though  this  work  has  been  fairly 
begun,  yet  it  will  be  some  time  before  it  can  be  finished.  The 
retrograde  movement  and  reactionary  spirit  on  the  part  of  the 
princes,  and  especially  on  the  part  of  Prussia,  will  bring  mat- 
ters to  a  crisis,  and  we  believe  that  the  agitation  in  that  state 
will  not  subside  until  the  king  and  his  royal  brother  are  satis- 
factorily disposed  of. 

-  The  other  question  that  arises  is,  whether  the  people  of  tiie 
different  states  will  give  their  ready  assent  to  this  consolida- 
tion.   We  may  safely  say,  that,  generally  speaking,  they  will 


1849.]  The  Germm  Bevolutian  of  1848.  179 

do  80 ;  nay,  they  desire  and  call  loudly  for  ibis  union.  But 
we  cannot  disguise  from  ourselves  the  difSculty  that  arises 
from  the  spirit  of  separatism,  so  to  speak,  which  it  has  been 
the  object  and  interest  of  the  princes  to  engender  and  to  fos- 
ter for  centuries ;  so  that  we  now  hear  many  in  Prussia  cry 
out  that  they  want  to  remain  Prussians  and  will  not  be  Ger- 
mans. Here,  however,  we  must  take  into  consideration  the 
legion  of  civil  office-holders,  the  countless  number  of  military 
officers  and  noblemen,  who,  together  with  the  king,  are  to 
battle  for  their  very  existence,  and  will  leave  no  means  untried 
to  accomplish  their  design.  The  quiet  and  sedate  merchants 
and  tradesmen — who  only  look  to  their  daily  gains,  and  dread 
any  innovation  from  which  they  cannot  calculate  tiieir  imme- 
diate profits — may  also,  for  the  time,  object  to  this  new  order 
of  things,  on  account  of  the  troubles  which  they  see  arise  from 
the  conflict  of  the  parties  in  endeavouring  to  establish  it.  Add 
to  this  the  spirit  which  the  crown  had  the  power  to  infuse  and 
strengthen  through  education  and  religion,  both  being  under 
its  own  direct  control  and  superintendence. 

The  more  elevated  desire  to  unite  kindred  elements  into 
one  symmetrical  whole,  does  not  move  the  masses  of  people  ; 
they  are  necessarily  more  influenced  by  material  interests. 
But  also,  in  this  view  of  the  question,  there  can  exist  no  doubt 
but  the  union  would  give  an  impulse  to  commerce  and  trade 
which  would  make  itself  felt  throughout  all  classes,  and  do 
away,  in  a  measure,  with  the  present  crying  wants  of  the 
proletarian  population.  We  hold  to  the  doctrine  that  the 
more  untrammelled  and  free  the  intercourse  between  man  and 
man,  the  greater  is  the  result  of  his  activity,  and  so  much 
less  the  fluctuation.  The  merchant  and  tradesman  would, 
therefore,  soon  cling  to  the  new  state  of  things  with  that 
peculiar  patriotism  of  their  own  which  would  make  them  soon 
forget  that  once  they  had  to  pay  their  taxes  into  the  treasury 
of  a  government  called  Prussian,  or  by  some  other  name. 

On  the  part  of  the  people  of  the  different  states,  then,  we 
apprehend  less  difficulty  ;  but  as  regards  their  present  rulers, 
we  believe  that  this  difficulty  can  be  removed  only  by  remov- 
ing them.  As  long  as  they  are  left  in  their  hereditary  dignity 
and  sovereignty,  even  if  their  powers  be  crippled  for  a  time, 
they  will  use  every  exertion  to  recover  what  they  have  lost, 
in  the  same  way  as  their  ancestors  knew  how  to  arrogate  and 
secure  to  themselves  this  power  under  the  old  empire.  We 
tiierefore  do  not  look  forward  to  a  solid  and  powerful  union  of 


180  The^  (}m^n(m  BevoltOioH  iff  1848.        [March, 

the  whole  of  Germany^  until  all  the  different  districts  of 
Germany  are  made  as  many  little  republics,  in  substance  and 
in  spirit,  if  not  in  name  ;  we  say  districts,  and  not  states,  be- 
cause these  are  now  constituted  of  provinces,  or  parts  of  terri- 
tory which  have  been, artificially  patched  together,  when  at  the 
end  of  wars  the  princes  divided  and  distributed  the  spoils. 

The  time  when  thb  desirable  result  will  be  effected  we  do 
not  deem  abready  close  at  hand,  for  we  fear  that  the  people 
will. yet  have  to  pass  through  repeated  sanguinary  struggles, 
before  their  victory  will  be  entirely  accompUshed.  Even  after 
a  complete  overthrow  of  the  absolute  monarchial  power,  there 
remwi  still  formidable  obstacles  to  be  overcome.  The  force 
of  habit  and  custom  deep  rooted  in  the  older  generations ; 
interests  and  property  founded  upon  the  old  order  of  things  ; 
jealousies  and  fears  of  the  persons  in  affluence  and  a  superior 
social  position ;  and,  more  than  all,  the  ignorance  and  inexpe- 
rience of  the  masses  in  political  self-government,  —  all  these 
and  many  other  difficulties  will  yet,  for  a  generation,  prevent 
the  troubled  waters  of  the  social  and  political  life  in  Germany 
from  finding  a  level  and  flowing  cahnly  in  their  new  channels. 
It  is  the  coming  generations,  chiefly,  who  will  enjoy  the  fruits 
and  blessings  of  the  present  struggles  and  changes,  and  ap- 
preciate the  sacrifices  their  fathers  have  made  at  the  altar 
of  their  country.  We  do  not  find  it  strange,  therefore,  if 
many  a  one,  in  the  bitterness  of  the  present  trials,  calls  out, 
in  the  words  of  Hamlet — 

"  The  time  Is  oat  of  Joint ;  0  cursed  spite ! 
That  ever  I  wai  born  to  set  it  right" 

Since  writing  the  foregoing  remarks,  the  events  which  have 
taken  place  in  Prussia  and  Austria  furnish  a  sad  proof  how 
well  founded  our  fears  were  of  a  reactionary  movement  on  the 
part  of  the  sovereigns  of  these  two  states.  What  faith  and 
reliance  could  be  placed  upon  men  whose  words  and  acts  had 
always  been  in  direct  opposition  to  what  they  professed  ?  It 
was  this  well  founded  suspicion  which  mduced  the  liberal 
party  of  the  left,  (often  called  "red  republicans''  by  the 
English  tory  press  and  others  of  a  like  stagnant  spirit,  in  de- 
rision of  their  warm  zeal  for  the  good  cause,)  in  the  national 
assembly  at  Frankfort  and  in  the  constituent  assemblies  at 
Vienna  and  Berlin,  to  insist  upon  more  vigorous  measures  to 
wrest  the  means  of  arbitrary  tyranny  from  the  hands  of  the 
princes.    It  was  witii  this  view  that  the  assembly  at  Berlin 


1849.]  The  Cfermm  BevohOUm  of  1848.  181 

pa{»ed  a  resolution  on  the  nintti  of  August  and  seventh  of  Sep- 
tember, which  enjoined  upon  the  minister  of  war  to  issue  an 
order  to  the  army,  commanding  particularly  the  officers  to  con- 
form to  the  present  constitutional  state  of  things,  and  to  refnun 
from  reactionary  tendencies  and  actions.  The  king  stead- 
fastly rented  thia  order,  but  the  assembly  insisted,  upon  its 
being  executed.  From  this  time,  a  crisis  was  preparing.  The 
king  could  find  no  ministry  to  support  his  treachery,  until  he 
at  last  resorted  to  those  very  men  who  had  been  his  ardent 
adherents  before  the  revolution.  He  full  well  knew,  that  if  his 
servile  military  hordes  were  taken  from  him,  all  hope  of  the 
execution  of  his  iniquitous  plans  was  lost.  Through  them  he 
has  succeeded,  at  least  for  a  time,  in  breaking  through  all  law 
and  order  again.  The  Constituent  Assembly  has  been  dis- 
solved, and  a  constitution  has  been  published  of  his  own  free 
will  and  absolute  power.  ^^  Might  is  right "  is  the  fundamental 
principle  from  which  this  new  law  flows.  If  the  scales  should 
now  turn,  no  one  can  complain  if  the  Might  of  the  People 
should  exercise  a  Right  over  the  person  of  the  king.  Austria 
shared  a  similar  fate  before,  but  her  imbecile  monarch  has  now 
chosen  to  withdraw  from  the  scene,  and  has  entrusted  the  fate 
of  his  dominions  to  the  strong  hands  of  a  youth  of  eighteen, 
who  comes  forward  and  assures  his  faithful  subjects  of  his 
paternal  good  will !  The  national  assembly  at  Frankfort  con- 
tinue in  session,  and  prove  by  their  timid  and  weak  action  in 
regard  to  all  these  momentous  and  reactionary  movements,  that 
they  are  surprised  and  overcome  by  these  unexpected  proceed- 
ings, and  that  a  guilty  conscience  tells  them  how  blind  and  deaf 
they  have  been  to  the  forewamings  of  the  much  abused  left 
side  of  their  body.  We  can  only  hope  that  the  people  will 
profit  by  this  sad  experience,  and  that,  if  in  the  next  bloody 
conflict  they  are  victorious,  they  wiB  eflFectually  remove  the 
causes  of  reaction  and  disturbance  of  law  and  order,  so  that 
they  may  begin  to  enjoy  the  fruits  of  liberty  and  self-govern- 
ment. 

Although  the  Constituent  Assembly  at  Frankfort  has  now 
finished  the  framing  of  the  projected  constitution  for  United 
Germany,  the  most  important  part  remains  yet  to  be  accom- 
plished ;  namely,  to  carry  out  its  provisions.  Whoever  may 
be  chosen  the  nominal  head  of  the  Germanic  Union,  which 
80  far  exists  only  on  paper,  and  whatever  title  he  may  bear, 
whether  Emperor  or  Protector,  his  best  exertions  will  always 
encounter  the  insuperable  obstacle  of  the  sovereignty  of  the 


182  The  German  Mevolution  of  1848.         [March, 

other  princes.  Austria  has  already  entirely  withdrawn  from 
the  projected  union,  and  will  isolate  itself  as  before,  and  the 
influence  and  the  name  of  Prussia  seem  to  absorb  all  that  is 
German  proper.  The  resistance  and  repugnance  of  the  three 
middling  powers  —  Hanover,  Bavaria,  and  Wurtemburg  — 
may,  however,  yet  thwart  the  ambitious  designs  of  the  king  of 
Prussia,  and,  although  he  may  be  chosen  by  the  sage  legisla- 
tors at  Frankfort,  may  prevent  Germany  from  bemg  converted 
into  Prussia.  The  hostile  position  of  the  princes  among  them- 
selves may  finally  produce  some  benefit  to  the  people.  The 
fond  hopes  of  seeing  the  German  people  united  into  one  sov- 
ereign nation  seem  now,  at  the  beginning  of  the  new  year, 
almost  entirely  blighted ;  but  we  may  indulge  in  the  conviction 
that  the  events  of  the  past  year  have  taught  a  lesson  to  the 
people,  which  will  increase  their  desire  to  make  further  ad- 
vances in  the  science  of  self-government.  It  is  R>  be  hoped 
that  they  will,  in  future,  entrust  their  interests  not  to  the 
hands  of  fanciful,  pedantic,  learned  professors  and  similar 
savants,  who  fancy  that  the  dreams  they  indulged  in  whilst 
engaged  in  their  libraries  could  be  made  realities.  Instead  of 
facing  plain  matters  of  fact  and  drawing  practical  inferences 
therefrom «  such  men  begin  with  speaking  on  historical  devel- 
opment, and  descend  into  their  "moral  consciousne&s"  to  con- 
struct the  frame-work  of  a  law,  the  substance  of  which  a  mind 
not  clouded  by  the  dust  of  antiquarian  books  would  have 
drawn  from  the  simple  truth  that  man  is  a  moral  and  respon- 
sible being,  or  that  the  government  is  made  for  the  people  and 
'  not  the  people  for  the  government. 

The  mass  of  the  German  people  have  so  long  lived  in  slav- 
ish dependence  upon  their  governments,  that  the  abject  spirit 
engendered  for  so  many  years  by  the  latter  seems  to  have 
deadened,  in  them  the  munly  spirit  of  individual  independence 
which  prompts  a  man  to  walk  upright  and  fear  nobody,  to 
repel  indignantly  and  with  energy  any  attempt  at  encroaching 
upon  his  sovereignty  in  his  own  affairs,  and  to  maintain  this 
his  right  at  the  hazard  of  all  other  goods  of  life.  It  is  hoped 
that  the  rising  generation  will  redeem  the  honor  of  the  past, 
and  learn  to  see  and  feel  that  a  man,  though  possessed  of  all 
the  learned  lore  of  centuries  and  all  the  music  and  art  which 
collective  Europe  can  boast  of,  but  who  lacks  the  pride  of  a 
free  and  independent  soul,  sinks  into  insignificance  by  the  side 
of  men  like  Hermann  and  Tell,  who,  though  unskilled  in  art 
and  sciences,  warm  the  heart  as  true  examples  of  man's  worth 
and  dignity. 


1849.]  The  Eternity  of  God.         .  188 

Art.  n.— THE  ETERNITY  OF  GOD. 

▲  HTMK  TRAH8LATEJ>  FROM  TBB  OXHMAV. 
I. 

Thou  Ocean-deep  of  God's  Eternity ; 

Thou,  the  Primeval  Source  of  Time  and  Space ; 

Sole  Ground  of  refuge  from  a  world  of  storms 

Art  thou:  Perpetual  Presentness  Thou  art. 

The  ashes  of  the  Past  are  but  the  Germ 

Of  vast  Futurities  to  Thee.     Then  what 

Is  man,  —  the  point  we  call  To-day,  the  worm. 

Born  yester-night,  —  when  with  Thy  greatness  weighed  ? 

II. 
To  Thee  Eternal  One,  a  Universe 
Marks  but  a  day,  and  we  in  our  brief  lives 
Are  scarcely  seconds  there.     Perhaps  the  Sun 
I  now  behold  is  e'en  the  thousandth  Sun, 
Dancing  'fore  Thee  with  ever  changing  years, 
And  thousands,  waiting  birth,  when  strikes  their  hour 
Shall  come,  at  thine  Almighty  word  moved  forth. 
But  Thou  remain'st,  nor  count'st  the  vanished  Orbs. 

I. 
0  Meer  von  Gottes  Ewigkeit ! 
Uralter  Quell  von  Welt  und  Zeit ! 

Grand  alles  Fliehns  von  Welt  und  Zeiten ! 
Bestand'ge  Gegenwartigkeit ! 
Die  Asche  der  vergangenheit 

1st  Dir  ein  Keim  von  Kiinftigkeiten. 
Was  ist  der  Mensch,  der  Punkt  von  Heut', 
Der  Worm,  der  sich  seit  Gestern  freut, 
*  Gemessen  gegen  deine  Weiten  ? 

II. 
Vor  dir,  Gott,  Ewiger,  vor  dir 
Sind  Weltfen  Tage  nur ;  und  wir 

In  unserm  Leben  kaum  Sekunden. 
Vielleicht  walzt  sich  die  tausendste 
Der  Sonnen  alternd,  die  ich  seh, 

Und  tausend  sind  noch  nicht  entbunden, 
Und  kommen,  wenn  die  Stunde  schlagt, 
Durch  deiner  Allmacht  Wink  bewegt. 

Du  bleibst,  und  zahlst  nicht,  die  verschwunden. 


184      ^  The  Eternity  of  God.  [Marefa, 

in. 
The  Stars,  in  all  their  silent  majestj, 
And  raised  on  high  within  unbounded  space  ;^ 
They  who  to  us  discourse  the  measured  time, 
And  stand  before  our  eyes  such  myriad  years, — 
Before  Thine  Eye,  oh  Lord,  shall  pass  away 
But  as  the  Grass  in  summer's  sultry  days  : 
As  roses  at  the  noontide  blooming  young. 
But  shrunken  pale  before  the  twilight  hour — 
Such  is  the  W^dn  and  Polar  Star  to  Thee. 

rvr. 
In  the  Primeval  Time  when  Life,  new  bom 
And  quickened  by  Almighty  power,  struggled 
'Oainst  chaos  still ;  when  Ancient  Nothingness 
Had  scantly  left  the  threshold  of  that  Life  ;— 
Before  e'en  Gravity  had  learnt  to  fall. 
And  ere  the  earliest  gleam  of  new  made  Li^t 
Had  shot  upon  the  grim  and  desert  Dark — 
Thou  still  wert  there,  wert  then,  and,  spread  abroad 
Far  from  thy  source  as  now,  didst  all  things  fill ! 


III. 
Der  Sterne  stille  Majestat, 
Im  unbegraozten  Ranm  erhoht ; 

Sie,  die  uns  Jahr'  und  Monden  sagen, 
XJnd  uns  viel  tausend  Jabre  stehn, 
Sie  werden,  Herr,  vor  dir  vergehn, 

Wie  Gras  am  schwiilen  Sommertagen. 
Wie  Rosen,  die  am  Mittag  jung, 
Und  welk  sind  vor  der  Dammerung, 

1st  dir  der  Angelstem  und  Wagen.  • 

IV.  / 

Zur  IJrzeit,  als  durch  Allmachtszwang 
Mit  Nichtseyn  noch  ein  Werden  rang, 

Und  kaum  von  neuer  Wesen  Schwelle 
Das  alte  Unding  sich  entfemt ; 
Eh'  Schwerkraft  fallen  noch  gelemt. 

Eh'  noch  des  Lichtes  erste  Heile 
Sich  auf  ein  odes  Dunkel  goss, 
Warafc  du,  der  allerf  iillend  floss, 

Gleich  ewig  fern  von  aller  Quelle. 


1849.]  TU  Eternity  of  Chd.  185 

V. 

And  when  a  different  breath  shall  come  of  thine 
Omnipotence  to  sepulchre  the  world 
In  nothingness,  in  dead  and  silent  harmonies ; 
When  many  a  Firmament,  far,  far  away. 
Though  swarming  now  with  hosts  of  stars,  shall  yield 
Its  Being  up,  and  vanish  into  Nought — 
Creator  I  Thou  art,  young  as  now,  untouched 
By  age,  to  live  for  ever  future  days. 

VI. 

Compared  with  Thought — time,  wind,  and  sound, 

And  winged  light  are  tedious  and  slow ; 

But  Thought — wearied  her  rapid  wing,  hung  down, 

And  wearied,  too,  in  vain — Eternal  One  ! 

Must  bow  'fore  Thee  and  vainly  hope  to  find 

The  limit  of  Thy  Might.     A  million  times 

In  thought  the  monstrous  numbers  monstrous  sum, 

I  multiply  till  Sense  and  Reason  fail: 


Und  Wenn  ein  andrer  Allmachtshauch 
Die  Welt  in  Nichts  begrabet  auch, 

In  todte  Stille  Ilarmonien ; 
Wenn  mancher  feme  Himmel  noch, 
Obgleich  von  Stemen  wimmelnd,  doch 

Wird  seinem  Daseyn  einst  entSiehen, 
Wirst,  Schopfer,  du  so  jung  als  jetzt, 
Von  keinem  Alter  je  verletzt, 

Im  ewig  kiinft'gen  Heute  bliihen. 

VI. 

Wogegen  Zeit  und  Schall  und  Wind 
Selbst  Lichtesfliigel  langsam  sind, 

Die  schnellen  Schwingen  der  Gedanken, 
Ermiidet  stehn  sie  fruchtlos  hier, 
Und  beugen,  Ewiger,  sich  dir, 

Und  hoffen  nur  vergebens  Schranken. 
Ich  thiirme  millionenmal 
Der  Zahlen  ungeheure  Zahl, 

Und  alle  meine  Pinnen  schwanken, 
xo.  VI.  ^  13 


186  The  Eternity  of  Chd.  [March, 

vn. 
Then  age  to  age  I  add,  and  world  to  world. 
But  when  I've  builded  up  that  height  sublime, 
And  turn,  Eternal  One,  my  wildered  eye 
On  Thee,  —  the  monstrous  sight  of  billion  worlds. 
Ages,  and  times,  though  multiplied  by  'tself, 
Is  all  no  part,  nay  not  a  Now  of  Thee ! 
I  take  them  all  away,  and  Tbou  art  still 
The  same ;  complete  in  Thy  Eternity ! 

vin. 
Oh  Measure  of  immeasurable  time, 
Thy  Now  is  in  itself  Eternity : 
And  Thou,  Sun  of  the  universe  dost  stand 
Perpetual  noon,  with  ever  equal  power ; 
Nor  risest  Thou  —  of  circling  times  the  Cause, 
Nor  from  Thy  midday  height  shalt  Thou  descend  ! 
On  Thee  Eternal  and  Unchanging  God, 
On  Thee  who  art,  and  wert,  and  art  to  come, — 
On  Thee  alone  doth  all  Existence  hang. 


VII. 

Ich  walze  Zeit  auf  Zeit  hinauf, 
Ich  thiirme  Welt  auf  Welt  zu  Hauf. 

Wenn  ich,  der  grausen  Hoh'  Erbauer, 
Dann  richte  meinen  Schwindelblick, 
0  Ewiger,  auf  dich  zuriick, 

1st  Billionen-Zahlen-Schauer, 
Mit  sich  vermehrt,  kem  Theil,  kein  Nu 
Von  dir.     Ich  tilge  sie,  und  du 

Liegst  ganz  vor  mir  in  deiner  Dauer. 

VIII. 

0  Maass  der  ungemessnen  Zeit ! 
Dein  Jetzt  ist  lauter  Ewigkeit. 

Du  Sonne  bleibst  im  Mittag  stehen, 
In  gleicher  Kraft.  Du  gingst  nie  auf, 
Du  Grund  von  aller  Zeiten  Lauf ! 

Nie  wirst  du  jemals  untergehen. 
An  dir,  der  da  unwandelbar 
Gott  ewig  ist,  und  ewig  war. 

An  dir  allein  hangt  Allbestehen. 


1849.]  The  Eternity  of  Qod.  187 

IX. 

Aye,  now,  could  Nature's  firm  and  solid  power,— * 

Which,  all  sustaining,  ever  new  creates — 

Sink  in  some  moment  back  to  thee  : 

In  that  same  hour,  with  wide  and  horrid  mouth, 

Would  Nothingness  devour  the  host  of  Suns, 

That  transient  shine,  and  drink  the  wide-spread  realm 

Of  all  existing  things ;  yes,  Time  and  e'en 

Eternity  would  sink  within  that  horrid  maw, 

As  Ocean  drinks  a  dropling  of  the  rain. 


Thou  Ocean-deep  of  God's  Eternity 

Thou  the  Primeval  Source  of  Time  and  Space; 

Sole  Ground  of  refuge  from  a  world  of  storms 

Art  Thou :  Perpetual  Presentness  Thou  art. 

The  ashes  of  the  Past  are  but  the  Germ 

Of  vast  Futurities  to  Thee.     Then  what 

Is  man,  —  the  point  we  call  To-day,  the  worm 

Bom  yester-night,  —  when  with  Thy  greatness  weighed  ? 


IX. 

Ja  wenn  des  Wesens  veste  Kraft, 
Die  allerhaltend  ewig  schafft, 

In  dir,  Gott,  jemals  konnte  sinken : 
Dann  wiirde,  zu  derselben,  Stund', 
Mit  grasslich  aufgesperrtem  Schlund 

Und  ob  jetzt  Sonnenheere  blinken. 
Das  Nichts  der  Wesen-Heere  Reich, 
Die  Zeit  und  Ewigkeit  zugleich. 

So  wie  das  Meor  ein  Tropflein,  trinken. 

X. 

0  Meer  von  Gottes  Ewigkeit ! 
Uralter  Quell  von  Welt  und  Zeit! 

Grund  alles  Fiiehns  von  Welt  und  Zeiten  I 
Bestand'ge  Gegenwartigkeit ! 
Die  Asche  der  Vergangenheit 

1st  dir  ein  Keim  von  Kiinftigkeiten. 
Was  ist  der  Mensch,  der  Punkt  von  heut', 
Der  Wurm,  der  sich  seit  geatem  freut, 

Gemessen  gegen  deine  Weiten  ? 


188  The  Eternity  of  God.  [March, 

XI. 

No  !  he  is  more  than  that  brief  point — To-day ; 

More  than  the  worm  bom  yester-night ;  and  may 

Himself  compare  with  that  Immensity ! 

For  when  God  founded  Earth,  and  Angel  choirs 

Proclaimed  His  praise,  —  unseen  and  fondly  wrapped 

In  swaddling  garments  of  primeval  Time, 

A  riddle  to  myself,  I  still  was  there, 

Although  I  could  not  then  therewith  rejoice, 

Nor  see  my  Ood  establishing  the  world. 

xn. 
And  when  yet  many  a  thousand  times 
New  heavenly  hosts  appear,  and  as  a  robe 
Worn  out  and  old  are  laid  aside  by  Thee ;  — 
When  other  heavenly  hosts  made  by  Thy  hand, 
Come  forth  in  ever  new  vicissitude. 
Yet  seem  for  ever  during  durance  made  — 
Shall  I  eternal  be  as  Thou,  and^  robed 
In  glory,  through  the  eternal  Ocean-deep, 
Shdl  celebrate  Thine  everlasting  Praise. 


XI. 

Nein,  er  ist  mehr  als  Punkt  von  heut', 
Als  Wurm,  der  sich  seit  gestem  freut ; 

Darf  messen  sich  mit  jenen  Weiten. 
Als  Gott  die  Erde  griindete, 
Ihn  Engellob  verkiindete, 

Schon  in  den  Windeln  grauer  Zeiten, 
Mir  selbst  ein  Rathsel,  war  ich  da, 
Wenn  ich  gleich  noch  nicht  jauchzend  sah 

Durch  Ihn  der  Erde  Grand  bereiten. 

XII. 

Und  wenn  auch  einst  viel  tausendmal 
Noch  neuer  Himmel  Heere  air 

Vor  dir  wie  ein  Gewand  vergehen ; 
Wenn  andre,  Gott,  durch  deine  Hand 
Dann  treten  in  den  Wechselstand, 

Zu  scheinbar  ewigem  Bestehen, 
Dann  werd'  ich,  ewig  wie  du,  Herr, 
Durch  aller  Ewigkeiten  Meer 

Verklart  dein  ewig  Lob  erhohen. 


1849.]       DUcavery  of  America  bg  the  Norsemen.  189 


Abt.  HE.  —  1.  Die  Entdechmg  von  America  durch  die 
Islander  %m  zehnten  und  eilften  Jakrhunderte.  Von  K.  H. 
Hermes.    Braunschweig.     1844.     8vo.     pp.  134. 

2.  AnUquUates  Americance  sive  Scriptores  Septentrio' 
nales  Iter  urn  Ante-Columbianarum  in  America.  Edidit 
Societas  Regia  Antiquariorum  Septentrionaliam.  Hafnisd. 
1837.    4to.    pp.  ^. 

3.  Die  Entdeckung  Amerikas  im  zehnten  JahrhunderU 
Von  C.  C.  Rafn.  Aus  der  dan.  Hdschrift  von  G.  Moh- 
nike.     Stralsund.     1838.     8vo.     pp.  38. 

4.  The  Discovery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen  in  the 
Tenth  Century,  By  N.  L.  Beamish.  London.  1841. 
8vo.    pp.239.  a\^<^-r 

The  term  "Anglo-Saxon,"  which  has  got  into  such  common 
use  of  late,  as  a  comprehensive  appellation  for  the  various 
branches  of  the  Eugllsh  stock,  is  doubtless  a  very  convenient 
one,  has  acquired  a  definite  meaning,  and  we  should  hardly 
know  what  to  substitute  in  its  place.  Nevertheless,  the  as- 
sumption which  it  seems  to  make,  that  the  "Anglo-Saxon'' 
nations  are  the  descendants  of  the  old  Angles  and  Saxons,  or 
belong  jrfiysically  or  morally  to  that  type,  is  very  clearly  erro- 
neous. On  the  contrary,  a  large  admixture  from  the  Norse  or 
Scandinavian  branch  of  the  great  Germanic  stock  is  both 
historically  certain,  and,  moreover,  very  obvious  in  the  present 
character  of  these  nations.  Perhaps  it  will  be  safest  to  con- 
fine ourselves  to  the  circle  of  our  own  immediate  o^)servation. 
This,  at  least,  we  may  confidently  assert,  that  the  modem  New 
England  character  has  in  it  much  more  of  the  Norse  than  of 
the  Saxon.  Not  that  in  any  case  we  hold  to  the  doctrine  that 
all  traits  and  qualities  are  derived  from  one's  ancestors,  any 
more  than  we  do  to  the  preformation  or  pill-box  theory  in 
Physiology — that  all  the  human  race  were  contained  in  embryo 
in  Adam.  The  most  important  part  of  the  character  of  indi- 
viduals or  of  nations  is  not  what  they  got  firom  their  forefathers, 
but  what  in  the  course  of  their  moral  development  they  have 
arrived  at  themselves.  Nevertheless,  in  \hQ  foundation  of  the 
character,  in  the  instinctive  tendencies  and  predilections  of  a 
man  or  a  nation,  the  influence  of  blood  is  not  to  be  denied. 
Now  if  we  compare  the  modem  Angles  and  Saxons,  namely, 
the  Germans  of  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Elbe,  the  genuine 
descendants  of  the  invaders  of  England  under  Hengst  and 


190  Discovery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen.     [March, 

Horsa,  with  ourselves,  what  do  we  find  ?  Why,  the  restless 
activity,  the  impatience  of  control,  and  the  practical  facility 
which  distinguish  the  Yankee,  are  precisely  what  the  German 
lacks.  Yet  we  need  not  go  far  to  find  these  traits  again,  only 
across  the  Baltic,  —  not,  indeed,  in  any  great  development 
nowadays,  for  reasons  which  it  would  take  us  too  long  to  touch 
upon  here. — but  strikingly  characteristic  of  the  old  Norsemen. 
One  of  the  most  prominent  features  of  the  New  England  chai^ 
acter  is  a  talent  for  maritime  aifairs.  The  New  Englander  is 
bom  with  a  love  for  the  ocean  and  an  intuitive  skill  in  naviga- 
tion. The  novelist  Seatsfield  has  made  use  of  this  tr^t  in 
one  of  his  stories,  where  an  American,  being  in  a  boat  ex- 
posed to  danger  in  a  sudden  storm  on  one  of  the  Swiss  lakes, 
astonishes  his  German  companions  by  assuming  the  command 
and  bringing  them  to  shore  in  safety.  This  talent  we  find 
prominent,  also,  in  the  Scandinavians,  particularly  those  of  for- 
mer times,  but  not  at  all  with  the  Germans.  Even  now  you 
find  Swedish  and  Danish  sailors  scattered  all  over  the  world, 
but  who  ever  saw  a  German  sailor  ?  The  Hollanders,  indeed, 
impelled  by  the  all-powerful  spirit  of  traffic,  do  carry  on  an 
extensive  commerce ;  but  their  vessels  are  mere  warehouses 
afloat,  they  are  driven  to  sea  by  the  necessity  of  the  case,  and 
do  not  take  to  it  with  any  fftisto  or  good  will.  England  is  now 
a  great  maritime  power.  But  when  England  was  Saxon  it 
had  no  sailors  and  no  fleet.  King  Alfred  had  to  work  hard 
to  get  up  a  coast-guard  to  keep  off  the  Norsemen.  Ships  he 
could  build,  but  for  seamen  to  work  them  he  had  to  employ 
"pirates"  —  no  doubt  another  swarm  from  the  same  hive. 
Some  time  after  this,  though  of  uncertain  date,  we  find  a  law 
of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  that  "  any  merchant  who  fared  thrice 
over  the  high  sea  in  his  own  craft  was  thenceforth  of  thane- 
right  worthy ;  '*  that  is,  he  was  raised  to  the  nobility  in  reward. 
But  the  Norsemen  needed  no  such  bribe.  Long  before  that 
they  had  circumnavigated  Europe  from  the  White  Sea  to  the 
Black.  Their  discovery  of  the  Faroes  is  of  unknown  antiquity. 
These  islands,  which  are  four  hundred  miles  from  the  coast  of 
Norway,  have  never  had  any  but  a  Norse  name,  the  significa- 
tion* of  which  would  seem  to  indicate,  that  at  the  remote 
period  when  they  first  appear  in  history,  and  when  they  had 
no  regular  inhabitants,  they  were  used  as  depots  of  provisions 
for  the  wandering  voyagers. 

•  Fareyar^  thtt  is,  "  sheep- islands. ' 


1849.]       DUcovery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen.  191 

Abont  the  year  860,  a  seafarer,  named  Gardar,  was  unex- 
pectedly driven  on  to  the  shores  of  Iceland;  and  within  a 
year  or  two,  and  without  any  concert  with  Gardar,  another 
Ilorseman,  named  Naddodd,  took  shelter  there  under  similar 
circumstances.  Now  Iceland  lies,  at  a  rough  calculation,  about 
six  hundred  miles  to  the  westward  of  Norway.  Yet,  within 
rixty  years  after  its  discovery,  the  population  seems  to  have 
reached  about  its  present  number,  namely,  50,000,  principally 
by  direct  immigration  from  Norway.  At  one  time  Am  immi- 
£ration  was  so  great,  that  Harald  the  Fair-haired,  fearing  a 
depopulation  of  his  kingdom,  forbade  any  one  to'  leave  it 
without  permission,  under  penalty  of  a  fine  of  five  ounces  of 
silver.  More  than  forty  years  before,  one  Gunnbiom  had 
already  discovered  the  cliffs  off*  the  east  coast  of  Greenland, 
about  two  hundred  miles  to  the  westward  of  Iceland.  Towards 
the  end  of  the  tenth  century,  Eirek  the  Red  established  a 
colony  in  Greenland. 

It  is  true,  in  most  or  all  of  these  instances  the  discoverers 
had  been  driven  out  of  their  course  by  storms.  Yet  they  must 
have  been  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  shores  on 
which  they  were  driven.  And  the  facility  with  which  the 
passage  direct  to  Iceland  and  afterwards  to  Greenland  was 
made  shows  that  voyages  of  such  extent  were  already  familiar 
to  them.  Now,  if  we  consider  that  in  these  voyages  they  did 
not  merely  coast  along  the  shore,  where  there  mieht  be  a 
chance  of  shelter  in  case  of  need,  like  the  Phoenicians,  but 
pushed  boldly  out  into  the  restless  North  Atlantic  in  their 
undecked  boats,  without  even  the  aid  of  the  compass,  we  must 
acknowledge  that  for  pure  daring  the  exploits  of  these  Norse 
sailors  are  even  yet  unequalled. 

This  habit  of  making  long  voyages  is  shown  also  in  many 
provisions  of  the  ancient  Icelandic  code,  the  "  Gray  Goose," 
which  was  reduced  to  writing  from  ancient  oral  tradition,  in 
the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  century.  In  a  special  chapter, 
•*  Of  Naval  Afeirs,"  provisions  are  made  for  taking  the  testi- 
mony of  witnesses  about  to  depart  "  in  the  floating  fir "  (a 
jUotandifuro) ;  for  harbor  duties ;  for  general  average  in  case 
of  jettison  ;  concerning  the  mutual  rights  and  duties  of  ship- 
owners and  charterers,  of  sailors  and  skippers,  of  tenants  in 
common  of  ships.  Among  other  things,  every  householder 
who  kept  any  servants  was  bound  to  assist,  once  a  year,  with 
all  his  retinue  except  his  shepherd,  in  launching  or  hauling 
up  any  vessel.  Like  the  inhabitants  of  the  New  England  coast, 


192  ]JUcovery  of  America  by  the  Norseioen.     [March, 

the  sterility  of  the  land  aifording  no  scope  for  their  energetic 
disposition,  they  became  of  necessity  a  seafaring  nation. 

/  The  particular  exploit  which  forms  the  subject  of  the  works 
at  the  head  of  this  article  is  probably  no  novelty  to  any  of 
our  readers,  yet,  as  it  has  been  discredited  by  influential 
writers,  and  as  those  who  have  admitted  the  authority  of  the 
account  have  drawn  some  conclusions  from  it  which  we  shall 
feel  obliged  to  criticize,  we  place  before  them,  ne^ri^  entire, 
the  more  important  documents  in  this  case..  The  perusal 
must,  we  think,  produce  the  conviction  of  their  genuineness 
in  the  mind  of  any  unprejudiced  person.  The  skepticism 
above  alluded  to  is  not,  indeed,  of  much  importance,  since  it 
is  not  shared,  we  believe,  by  any  writer  qualified  to  pronounce 
a  critical  opinion  on  the  matter.  It  rests,  no  doubt,  mainly 
on  a  vague  notion  of  the  antecedent  improbability  of  so  exten- 
sive a  voyage  having  been  made  at  that  early  period  and  with 
such  imperfect  means.  But  a  moment's  consideration  of  the 
facts  above  stated  will  show  how  unfounded  such  a  notion  is. 
The  Norsemen  had  already  been,  for  more  than  a  century,  in 
the  habit  of  making  voyages  direct  from  Norway  to  Iceland, 
if  not  direct  to  Greenland,  (since  wo  hear  of  arrivals  in  the 
Greenland  colony  "from  Norway").  At  all  events,  they 
could  have  touched  only  at  Iceland.  The  colony  on  the  west 
coast  of  Greenland  consisted  at  that  time  of  above  one  hun- 
dred and  thirty  farms.  Probably  it  had  already  reached  its 
most  populous  state.  Now  the  distance  across  Davis'  Strait, 
even  at  its  mouth,  is  only  about  the  same  as  from  Norway  to 
Iceland.  But  if  we  take  it  somewhat  to  the  southward  of 
Disco,  (which  we  know  the  ancient  colonists  reached,  and  even 
went  further  north,)  it  is  not  more  than  two  hundred  miles. 
Greenland  evidently  belongs  much  more  to  the  New  World 
than  to  the  Old ;  and  if  we  take  into  consideration  the  southerly 
current  flowing  out  of  Davis'  Strait  along  the  Labrador  coast ; 
the  prevalence  of  northerly  winds  in  those  regions ;  and  above 
all,  the  fact  that  the  voyagers  to  Greenland  had  occasion  to 
run  so  far  to  the  westward  in  order  to  reach  that  colony, 
whereas  there  was  before  nothing  to  attract  them  to  cruise  in 
that  direction ;  it  was  much  more  probable,  a  priori^  that  some 
of  them,  missing  the  point  of  Cape  Farewell,  or  driven  off"  to 
sea  in  their  northern  explorations  of  BaflSn's  Bay,  should  reach 
the  coast  of  Labrador,  than  that  they  should  have  discovered 
Greenland.     It  would  be  singular,  indeed,  if  these  bold  ad- 


1849.]       Diucovery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen.  198 

venturers,  whose  dwelling,  as  Tacitus  ssdd  even  in  his  time, 
seemed  to  be  the  ocean,  had  missed  the  discovery  of  an  exten- 
sive continent  comparatively  close  at  hand. 

Such  are  the  antecedent  probabilities.  In  this  position  of 
things,  the  internal  evidence  of  the  documents  themselves 
would  seem,  as  we  said,  sufficient  to  convince  any  unpreju- 
diced person  of  the  correctness  of  the  main  facts  they  assert. 
It  may  be  interesting,  besides,  to  have  in  convenient  compass 
the  earliest  fragment  of  history  relating  to  this  country,  and 
this  may  serve  at  the  same  time  as  an  illustration  of  what  was 
said  concerning  the  sea-faring  talent  of  the  Scandinavians, 
and  as  a  specimen  of  their  exploits. 

The  following  translations  are  taken  from  the  Thattr  Mreks 
rauda  and  the  Oraenlenditiga  thatt  ("  the  piece  about  Eirek 
the  Red"  and  "the  piece  about  the  Greenlanders"),  which 
are  presented  here  nearly  entire.  These  pieces  are  fragments 
which  have  been  interpolated  into  a  Life  of  King  Olaf  Trygg- 
vason,  The  manuscripts  are  of  the  end  of  the  14th  century, 
(1387-1395,)  but  the  style  and  other  evidences  show  them 
to  be  copies  from  much  older  ones. 

It  seems  that  among  a  largo  number  of  Icelanders  who 
accompanied  Eirek  the  Red,  (who  was  the  first  to  make  a 
voyage  to  Greenland,  after  its  discovery  by  Gunnbiom,)  was 
one  Herjulf,  whose  son  Biami,  a  merchant,  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  passing  every  other  winter  at  home  with  his  father, 
and  then  sailing  again  on  distant  voyages. 

"  That  same  summer  (985  or  986)  came  Biami  with  his  ship 
lo  Eyrar,  in  the  spring  of  which  his  father  had  sailed  from  the 
island.  Thege  tidings  seemed  to  Biami  weighty,  and  he  would 
not  unload  his  ship.  Then  asked  his  sailors  what  he  meant  to 
do,  he  answered  that  he  meant  to  hold  to  his  wont  and  winter  with 
bis  father,  *  and  I  will  bear  for  Greenland  if  you  will  follow  me 
thither.'  All  said  they  would  do  as  he  wished.  Then  said 
Biami,  *  Impmdent  they  will  think  our  voyage,  since  none  of  us 
has  been  in  the  Greenland  sea.' 

**  Yet  they  bore  out  to  sea  as  soon  as  they  were  boun,*  and 
sailed  three  days  till  the  land  was  sunk,  then  the  fair  wind  fell  off 
and  there  arose  north  winds  and  fogs,  and  they  knew  not  whither 
they  fared,  and  so  it  went  for  many  days.  After  that  they  saw 
the  sun,  and  could  then  get  their  bearings.  Then  they  hoisted 
sail  and  sailed  that  day  before  they  saw  land,  and  they  counselled 
with  themselves  what  land  that  might  be.     But  Biami  said  he 

•  Or  bound,  (6ilntr)  \  luiaelj,  readj,  as  we  saj  a  s^p  ia  bound  for  London. 


194  Discovery  of  America  Jy  the  Norsemen.     [March, 

thought  it  could  not  be  Greenland.  Thej  asked  him  whedier  he 
would  sail  to  the  land  ot  not  ^  This  is  mj  counsel,  to  sail  nigh 
to  the  land/  (said  he) ;  and  so  they  did,  and  soon  saw  that  the 
land  was  without  fells,  and  wooded,  and  small  heights  on  the  land, 
and  thej  left  the  land  to  larboard,  and  let  the  foot  of  the  sail  look 
towards  land.*  After  that  they  sailed  two  days  before  they  saw 
another  land.  They  asked  if  Biami  thought  this  was  Greenland. 
He  said  he  thought  it  no  more  Greenland  than  the  first ;  *  for  the 
glaciers  are  very  huge,  as  they  say,  in  Greenland.'  They  soon 
neared  the  land,  and  saw  it  was  fiat  land  and  overgrown  with 
wood.  Then  the  fair  wind  fell.  Then  the  sailors  said  that  it 
seemed  prudent  to  them  to  land  there.  But  Biami  would  not. 
They  thought  they  needed  both  wood  and  water.  *0f  neither 
are  you  in  want,'  said  Biami ;  but  he  got  some  hard  speeches  for 
that  from  his  sailors.  He  bade  them  hoist  sail,  and  so  they  did, 
and  they  turned  the  bows  from  the  land  and  sailed  out  to  sea  with 
a  west-southwest  wind  three  days,  and  saw  a  third  land ;  but  that 
land  was  high,  mountainous,  and  covered  with  glaciers.  They 
asked  then  if  Biami  would  put  ashore  there,  but  he  said  he 
would  not ;  *  for  this  land  seems  to  me  not  very  promising  *  Tliey 
did  not  lower  their  sails,  but  held  on  along  this  land,  and  saw  that 
it  was  an  island;  but  they  turned  the  stern  to  the  land,  and 
sailed  seawards  with  the  same  fair  wind.  But  the  wind  rose,  and 
Biami  bade  them  shorten  sail  and  not  to  carry  more  than  their 
ship  and  tackle  would  bear.  T*hey  sailed  now  four  days,  then  saw 
they  land  the  fourth.  Then  they  asked  Biami  whether  he  thought 
that  was  Greenland  or  not.  Biami  answered,  *  That  is  likest  to 
what  is  said  to  me  of  Greenland,  and  we  will  put  ashore.'  So 
they  did,  and  landed  under  a  certain  ness  (cape),  at  evening  of  the 
day.  And  there  was  a  boat  at  the  ness,  and  there  lived  Herjulf, 
the  father  of  Biami,  on  this  ness,  and  from  him  has  the  ness 
taken  its  name,  and  is  since  called  Herjulfsness.  Now  fared 
Biami  to  his  father,  and  gave  up  sailing,  and  was  with  his  fjither 
whilst  Herjulf  lived ;  and  afterwards  lived  there  after  his  father." 

Eirek  the  Red,  the  leader  of  the  colony,  was  still  looked 
upon  as  its  head,  and  Biami  once  havii^g  paid  him  a  visit,  and 
being  well  received,  the  conversation  fell  upon  his  adventures 
and  his  discoveries  of  unknown  lands.  All  thought  Biarai 
had  shown  very  little  curiosity  in  not  making  further  explora- 
tions. There  was  much  talk  about  voyages  of  discovery,  and 
Leif,  the  eldest  of  Eirek's  three  sons,  resolved  to  see  this 
newly-discQi^ered  country.  Accordingly  he  paid  Biami  a 
visit,  bought  his  vessel  of  him,  and  engaged  a  crew. 

*  Ok  l^ta  skaut  hor&  i.  land. 


1849.]       DUoovery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen.  196 

He  now  endeavoured  to  persuade  his  father  to  accompany 
him,  and  after  some  trouble  succeeded.  But  the  old  man,  on 
the  way  to  the  vessel,  fell  from  his  horse  and  injured  his  foot. 
Thereupon  he  said,  "  It  is  not  fated  that  I  should  discover 
more  countries  than  those  we  now  inhabit,  and  we  can  now  no 
longer  fare  all  together.*'  So  he  returned  home,  but  Leif 
with  his  companions,  thirty-five  in  all,  set  sail. 

(A.  D.  999.)  "  First  they  found  the  land  which  Biarni  had  found 
last.  Then  sailed  they  to  the  land,  and  cast  anchor  and  put  off  a 
boat  and  went  ashore  and  saw  there  no  grass.  Mickle  glaciers 
were  over  all  tbe  higher  parts,  but  it  was  like  a  plain  of  rock 
from  the  glaciers  to  the  sea,  and  it  seemed  to  them  that  the  land 
was  good  for  nothing.  Then  said  Leif,  *  We  have  not  done  about 
this  land  like  Biarni,  not  to  go  upon  it ;  now  I  will  give  a  name 
to  the  land,  and  call  it  Helluland  (flat-stone  land).  Then  they 
went  to  their  ship.  After  that  they  sailed  into  the  sea,  and  found 
another  land,  sailed  up  to  it  and  cast  anchor ;  then  put  off*  a  boat 
and  went  ashore.  This  land  was  flat  and  covered  with  wood,  and 
broad  white  sands  wherever  they  went,  and  the  shore  was  low. 
Then  said  Leif,  *  From  its  make  shall  a  name  be  given  to  this 
land,  and  it  shall  be  called  Markland  (Wood-land).  Then  they 
went  quickly  down  to  the  vessel.  Now  they  sailed  thence  into 
the  ^a  with  a  northeast  wind,  and  were  out  two  days  before  they 
saw  land,  and  they  sailed  to  land,  and  came  to  an  island  that  lay 
north  of  the  land,  and  they  went  on  to  it  and  looked  about  them  in 
good  weather,  and  found  that  dew  lay  upon  the  grass,  and  that 
happened  that  they  put  their  hands  in  the  dew  and  brought  it  to 
their  mouths,  and  they  thought  they  had  never  known  any  thing 
so  sweet  as  that  was.*  Then  they  went  to  their  ship  and  sailed 
into  that  sound  that  lay  between  the  island  and  a  ness  which  went 
northward  from  the  land,  and  then  steered  westward  past  the 
ness.  There  were  great  shoals  at  ebb-tide,  and  their  vessel  stood 
up,  and  it  was  far  to  see  from  the  ship  to  the  sea.  But  they  were 
80  curious  to  fare  to  the  land  that  they  could  not  bear  to  bide  till 
the  sea  came  under  their  ship,  and  ran  ashore  where  a  river  flows 
out  from  a  lake.  But  when  the  sea  came  under  their  ship,  then 
took  they  the  boat  and  rowed  to  the  ship,  and  took  it  up  into  the 
river  and  then  into  the  lake,  and  there  cast  anchor,  and  bore  from 
the  ship  their  skin-cots,  and  made  there  booths. 

**  Afterwards  they  took  counsel  to  stay  there  that  winter,  and 
made  there  great  houses.  There  was  no  scarcity  of  salmon  in  the 
rivers  and  lakes,  and  larger  salmon  than  they  had  before  seen. 

♦  Probably  the  so  called  honey-dew,  a  sweet  sabstance  deposited  on  plants 
by  certain  insects,  {dpkides,)  which  often  attracts  swarms  of  ants  and  iues  to 
rose-botbes  infested  by  them. 


196  Diieovery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen.     [March, 

There  was  the  land  so  good  as  it  seemed  to  them,  that  no  cattle 
would  want  fodder  for  the  winter.  There  came  no  frost  in  the 
winter,  and  little  did  the  grass  fall  off  there.  Day  and  night  were 
more  equal  there  than  in  Greenland  or  Iceland ;  the  sun  had  there 
eyktarstad  and  dagm€ilastad*  on  the  shortest  day.  But  when  they 
had  ended  theii*  house-building,  then,  said  Leif  to  his  companions, 
*  Now  let  our  company  be  divided  into  two  parts,  and  the  land 
kenned,  and  one  half  of  the  people  shall  be  at  the  house  at  home, 
but  the  other  half  shall  ken  the  land,  and  fare  not  further  than 
that  they  may  come  home  at  evening,  and  they  shall  not  separate.' 
Now  so  they  did  one  time.  Leif  changed  about,  so  that  he  went 
with  them  (one  day)  and  (the  next)  was  at  home  at  the  house. 
Leif  was  a  mickle  man  and  stout,  most  noble  to  see,  a  wise  man 
and  moderate  in  all  things. 

2.  LEIF  THE  LUCKT  FOUND  MEN  ON  A  8KEBRT  AT  SEA. 

"One  evening  it  chanced  that  a  man  was  wanting  of  their  peo- 
ple, and  this  was  Tyrker,  the  Southemer.f  ^Leif  took  this  very 
ill,  for  Tyrker  had  been  long  with  his  parents,  and  loved  Leif 
much  in  his  childhood.  Leif  now  chid  his  people  sharply,  and 
made  ready  to  fare  forth  to  seek  him,  and  twelve  men  with  him. 
But  when  they  had  gone  a  little  way,  there  came  Tyrker  to  meet 
them,  and  was  joyfully  received.  Leif  found  at  once  that  his 
old  friend  was  somewhat  out  of  his  mind ;  he  was  bustling  and 
unsteady-eyed,  freckled  in  face,  little  and  wizened  in  growth,  but 
a  man  of  skill  in  all  arts.  Then  said  Leif  to  him :  *  Why  wert 
thou  so  late,  my  fosterer,  and  separated  from  the  party?'  He 
talked  at  first  a  long  while  in  Grerman,  and  rolled  many  ways  his 
eyes  and  twisted  his  face,  but  they  skilled  not  what  he  said.  He 
said  then  in  Norse  after  a  time  :  '  I  went  not  very  far,  but  I  have 
great  news  to  tell ;  1  liave  found  g^rape-vines  and  ^pes.'  *  Can 
that  be  true,  my  fosterer,'  quoth  Leif.  *  Surely  it  is  true,'  quoth 
he,  *  for  I  was  brought  up  where  there  is  no  want  of  grape-vines 
or  grapes.'  Then  they  slept  for  the  night,  but  in  the  morning 
Leif  said  to  his  sailors,  *  Now  we  shall  have  two  jobs ;  each  day 
we  will  either  gather  grapes  or  hew  grape-vines  and  fell  trees,  so 
there  will  be  a  cargo  for  my  ship,'  and  that  was  the  counsel  taken. 
It  is  said  that  their  long  boat  was  filled  with  grapes.  Now  was 
hewn  a  cargo  for  the  ship,  and  when  spring  came  they  got  ready 
and  sailed  off,  and  Leif  gave  a  name  to  the  land  after  its  sort,  and 

*  Dat^maltutad  was  7  1-2,  A.  M.,  the  hour  of  sunrise  in  the  soath  of  Iceland 
on  the  first  day  of  winter,  (Oct.  17th.)  Eyktarstad  was  the  period  fixed  (in 
the  laws,)  as 'the  end  of  the  natural  day;  namely,  4  1-2,  P.  M. — JntiquitateM 
jSmericana,  p.  435. 

These,  therefore,  were  two  great  periods  of  the  dav,  and  are  not  to  be  taken 
too  minutely. 

t  That  is,  the  German. 


1849.]       DUewery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen.  197 

called  it  Yinlancl  (Wine-land).  They  sailed  then  afterwards  into 
the  sea,  and  had  a  fair  wind  until  they  saw  Greenland,  and  the 
fells  under  the  glaciers.  Then  a  man  took  the  word,  and  said  to 
Leif, '  Why  steerest  thou  the  ship  so  close  to  the  wind  ? '  Leif 
answered,  <I  look  to  my  steering  and  to  something  more,  and 
what  see  ye  remarkable?'  They  said  they  saw  nothing  that 
seemed  remarkable.  '  I  know  not,'  said  Leif,  ^  whether  I  see  a 
ship  or  a  rock.'  Now  they  looked,  and  said  it  was  a  rock.  But 
he  saw  further  than  they,  and  saw  men  on  the  rock.  '  Now  we 
must  bite  into  the  wind  (beitim  undir  vedril),'  said  Leif,  <  so  that 
we  may  near  them  if  they  are  in  need  of  our  aid,  and  it  is  need- 
ful to  help  them ;  but  if  so  be  it  that  they  are  not  peaceably  dis- 
posed, all  the  strength  is  on  our  side  and  not  on  theirs.'  Now 
they  came  close  to  the  rock,  and  furled  their  sail  and  cast  anchor, 
and  put  out  another  little  boat  which  they  had  with  them.  Then 
asked  Tyrker,  Who  rode  before  them  ?  (who  was  their  leader.) 
He  said  he  was  named  Thorir,  and  that  he  was  a  Norseman  of 
kin.  '  But  what  is  thy  name  ? '  Leif  told  his  name.  *  Art  thou 
son  of  Eirek  the  Red  of  Brattahlid  ? '  said  he.  Leif  said  it  was 
so.  *  Now  will  I,'  said  Leif, '  bid  you  all  to  my  ship,  and  as  many 
of  the  goods  as  the  ship  will  carry.'  They  were  thankful  for  the 
chance,  and  sailed  to  fiireksfirth  with  the  cargo,  until  they  came 
to  Brattahlid,  and  then  unloaded  the  ship.  Afterwards  Leif  bade 
Thorir  to  stay  with  him,  and  also  Gudrid,  his  wife,  and  three 
other  men,  and  got  lodgings  for  the  other  sailors,  both  Thorir's  and 
his  own  fellows.  Leif  took  fiAeen  men  from  the  rock  ;  after  that 
he  was  called  Leif  the  Lucky :  Leif  was  now  both  well  to  do  and 
honored.  That  winter  there  came  a  great  sickness  among  Tho- 
rir's people,  and  carried  off  Thorir  and  many  of  his  people.  This 
winter  died  also  Eirek  the  Red. 

^  Now  there  was  a  great  talk  about  Leif 's  Vinland  voyage,  and 
Thorrald,  his  brother,  thought  the  land  had  been  too  little  ex- 
plored. Then  said  Leif  to  Thorvald,  *Thou  shalt  go  with  my 
ship,  brother  I  if  thou  wilt,  to  Vinland ;  but  I  want  that  the  ship 
should  go  first  afler  the  wood  that  Thorir  had  on  the  rock ; '  and 
so  was  done. 

3.   THORVALD   FARES   TO   VINLAND. 

"Now  Thorvald  made  ready  for  this  voyage  with  thirty  men, 
with  the  counsel  thereon  of  Leif,  his  brother.  Then  they  fitted 
out  their  ship,  and  bore  out  to  sea,  (A.  D.  1002,)  and  there  is 
nothing  told  of  their  voyage  before  they  came  to  Vinland  to  Leif 's 
booths,  and  they  laid  up  their  ship  and  dwelt  in  peace  there  that 
winter,  and  caught  fish  for  their  meat.  But  in  the  spring  Thorvald 
said  they  would  get  ready  their  ship,  and  send  their  long  boat  and 
some  men  with  it  along  to  the  westward  of  the  land,  and  explore  it 
during  the  summer.     The  land  seemed  to  them  fair  and  woody, 


198  DUcwery  of  America  by  the  Norwmen.     [Marcfay 

and  narrow  between  the  woods  and  the  sea,  and  of  white  sand. 
There  were  many  islands  and  great  shoals.  They  foand  neither 
man's  abode  nor  beasts ;  but  on  an  island  to  the  westward  they 
found  a  corn-shed  of  wood ;  more  works  of  men  they  found  not, 
and  they  went  back,  and  came  to  Leif 's  booths  in  the  fall.  But 
the  next  summer  fared  Thorvald  eastward  with  the  merchant-ship 
and  coasted  to  ^e  northward.  Here  a  heavy  storm  arose  as  they 
were  passing  one  of  two  capes,  and  drove  them  up  there  and 
broke  the  keel  under  the  ship,  and  they  dwelt  there  long,  and 
mended  their  ship.     Then  said  Thorvald  to  his  companions : 

*  Now  will  I  that  we  raise  up  here  the  keel  on  the  ness  and  call  it 
Keehiesa/  and  so  they  did.  Af^er  that  they  sailed  thence,  and 
coasted  to  the  eastwiu*d,  and  into  the  mouths  of  the  firths  that 
were  nearest  to  them,  and  to  a  headland  that  stretched  out.  This 
was  all  covered  with  wood  ;  here  they  brought  the  ship  into  har- 
bour and  shoved  a  bridge  on  to  the  land,  and  Thorvald  went  ashore 
with  all  his  company^  he  said  then,  'Here  it  is  fair,  and  here 
would  I  like  to  raise  my  dwelling.*  They  went  then  to  the  ship, 
and  saw  upon  the  sands  within  the  headland  three  heights,  and 
they  went  thither  and  saw  there  three  skin-boats,  and  three  men 
under  each.  Then  they  divided  their  people,  and  laid  hands  on 
them  all,  except  one  that  got  off  with  his  boat  They  killed  these 
eight,  and  went  then  back  to  the  headland,  and  looked  about  them 
there,  and  saw  in  the  firth  some  heights,  and  thought  they  were 
dwellings.  AfVer  that  there  came  a  heaviness  on  them  so  great 
that  they  could  not  keep  awake,  and  all  slumbered.  Then  came 
a  call  above  them,  so  that  they  all  awoke:  thus  said  the  call: 
'Awake,  Thorvald !  and  all  thy  company,  if  thou  wilt  keep  thy 
life,  and  fare  thou  to  thy  ship,  and  all  thy  men,  and  fare  from  the 
land  of  the  quickest.'  Then  came  from  within  the  firth  innumer- 
able skin-boats,  and  made  toward  them.    Thorvald  said  then, 

*  We  will  set  up  our  battle-shields,  and  guard  ourselves  the  best 
we  can,  but  fight  little  against  them/  So  they  did,  and  the 
Skrslings  shot  at  them  for  a  while,  but  then  fied  each  as  fast  as 
he  could.  Then  Thorvald  asked  his  men  if  any  of  them  was 
hurt ;  they  said  they  were  not  hurt.  '  I  have  got  a  hurt  under 
the  arm,'  said  he,  *  for  an  arrow  flew  between  the  bulwarks  and 
the  shield  under  my  arm,  and  here  is  the  arrow,  and  that  will  be 
my  death.  Now  I  counsel  that  ye  make  ready  as  quickly  as  may 
be  to  return,  but  ye  shall  bear  me  to  the  headland  which  I  thought 
the  likeliest  place  to  build.  It  may  be  it  was  a  true  word  I  spoke, 
that  I  should  dwell  there  for  a  time.  There  ye  shall  bury  me, 
and  set  crosses  at  my  head  and  feet,  and  call  it  Krossanes  hence- 
forth.' Greenland  was  then  Christianized,  but  Eirek  the  Red  had 
died  before  Christianity  came  thither.  Now  Thorvald  died,  but 
they  did  every  thing  according  as  he^  had  said,  and  then  went  and 
found  their  companions,  and  told  each  other  the  news  they  had  to 


1849.]      Diaeotwry  of  America  hy  the  Norumen.  199 

tell,  and  lived  there  that  winter,  and  gathered  grapes  and  vines 
for  loading  the  ship.  Then  in  the  spring  tbej  naade  ready  to  sail 
for  Greenland,  and  came  with  their  ship  to  Eireksfirth,  and  had 
great  tiding  to  tell  to  Leif." 

In  the  meanwhile  Thorstein,  Eirek's  third  son,  had  mar- 
ried Gudrid,  the  widow  of  the  Norwegian  Thorir,  whom  Leif 
had  rescued  from  the  rock.  When  the  news  of  his  brother's 
death  arrived,  Thorstein  resolved  to  go  after  Thorvald's  dead 
body,  in  order  to  give  it  a  Christian  burial.  Accordingly  he 
set  oflF,  but  after  driving  about  the  whole  summer  unsuccess- 
fully, he  was  obliged  to  put  in  at  the  western  settlement  of 
Greenland,  where  they  remained  that  winter.  Here  Thorstein 
and  many  of  his  men  died  of  a  pestilence,  and  Gudrid  returned 
to  Leif,  at  the  eastern  settlement.  This  summer  a  rich  Nor- 
wegian, named  Thorfin  Karlsefni,  came  to  Greenland  and 
stayed  at  Leifs  house,  where  he  fell  in  love  with  Gudrid  and 
married  her.  There  being  still  a  great  talk  about  Vinland, 
Thorfin  was  persuaded  to  undertake  a  voyage  thither,  which 
he  did,  taking  with  him  his  wife  and  a  company  of  sixty  men 
and  five  women.    (A.  D.  1007.) 

**This  agreement  made  Karlsefni  and  his  seamen,  that  they 
should  have  even  handed  all  that  they  should  get  in  the  way  of 
goods.  They  had  with  them  all  sorts  of  cattle,  as  they  thought  to 
settle  there  if  they  might.  Karlsefni  begged  Leif  for  his  house  in 
Vinland,  but  he  said  he  would  lend  him  the  house,  but  not  give  it. 
Then  they  bore  out  to  sea  with  the  ship  and  ciune  to  Leifs 
booths  hale  and  whole,  and  landed  there  their  cattle.  There  soon 
came  into  their  hands  a  great  and  good  prize,  for  a  whale  was 
driven  ashore,  both  great  and  good ;  then  they  went  to  cut  up  the 
whale,  and  had  no  scarcity  of  food.  The  cattle  went  up  into  the 
country,  and  it  soon  happened  that  the  male  cattle  became  wild 
and  unruly.  They  had  with  them  a  bull.  Karlsefni  had  wood 
felled  and  brought  to  the  ship,  and  had  the  wood  piled  on  the  cliff 
to  dry.  They  had  all  the  good  things  of  the  country,  both  of 
grapes  and  of  all  sorts  of  game  and  other  things.  After  the  first 
winter  came  the  summer,  then  they  saw  appear  the  Skraslings,  and 
there  came  from  out  the  wood  a  great  number  of  men.  Near  by 
were  their  neat-cattle,  and  the  bull  took  to  bellowing  {tok  at  belja) 
and  roared  loudly,  whereat  the  Skrselings  were  frightened,  and 
ran  off  with  their  bundles.  These  were  furs  and  sable-skins  and 
skin-wares  of  all  kinds.  And  they  turned  towards  Karlsefni's 
booths,  and  wanted  to  get  into  the  house,  but  Karlsefni  had  the 
doors  guarded.  Neither  party  understood  the  other's  language. 
Then  the  Skrolmgs  took  down  their  bags,  and  dpened  them,  and 


200  IHseovery  of  America  by  the  Narnemen.     [March, 

oflfered  them  for  sale,  and  wanted  above  all  to  have  weapons  for 
them.  But  Karlsefni  forbade  them  to  sell  weapons.  He  took  this 
plan ;  he  bade  the  women  bring  out  their  dairj  stuff*  for  them, 
and  so  soon  as  they  saw  this  they  would  have  that  and  nothing 
else.  Now  this  was  the  way  the  Skraelings  traded,  they  bore  off 
their  wares  in  their  stomachs,  but  Karlsefni  and  his  companions 
had  their  bags  and  skin -wares,  and  so  they  parted.  Now  hereof 
is  this  to  say,  that  Karlsefni  had  posts  driven  strongly  round  about 
his  booths,  and  made  all  complete.  At  this  time  Gudrid  the  wife 
of  Karlsefni  bore  a  man-child,  and  he  was  called  Snorri.  In  the 
beginning  of  the  next  winter  the  Skraelings  came  to  them  again, 
and  were  many  more  than  before,  and  they  had  the  same  wares 
as  before.  Then  Karlsefni  said  to  the  women,  *Now  bring  forth 
the  same  food  that  was  most  liked  before,  and  no  other.'  And 
when  they  saw  it  they  cast  their  bundles  in  over  the  fence.  .  .  . 
[But  one  of  them  being  killed  by  one  of  E[arlsefni*s  men,  they  all 
fled  in  haste  and  left  their  garments  and  wares  behind]  *Now  I 
think  we  need  a  good  counsel,*  said  Karlsefni,  *for  I  think  they 
will  come  for  the  third  time  in  anger  and  with  many  men.  Now  we 
must  do  this,  ten  men  must  go  out  on  to  that  ness  and  show  them- 
selves there,  but  another  party  must  go  into  the  wood  and  hew  a 
place  clear  for  our  neat-cattle,  when  the  foe  shall  come  from  the 
wood.  And  we  must  take  the  bull  and  let  him  go  before  us.* 
But  thus  it  was  with  the  place  where  they  thought  to  meet,  that  a 
lake  was  on  one  side  and  the  wood  on  the  other.  Now  it  was 
done  as  Karlsefni  had  said.  Now  came  the  Skrielings  to  the  place 
where  Karlsefni  had  thought  should  be  the  battle ;  and  now  there 
was  a  battle  and  many  of  the  Skraelings  fell.  There  was  one 
large  and  handsome  man  among  the  Skraelings,  and  Karlsefni 
thought  he  might  be  their  leader.  Now  one  of  the  Skraelings  had 
taken  up  an  axe  and  looked  at  it  awhile  and  struck  at  one  of  his 
fellows  and  hit  him,  whereupon  he  fell  dead,  then  the  large  man 
took  the  axe  and  looked  at  it  awhile  and  threw  it  into  the  sea  as 
far  as  he  could.  But  after  that  they  fled  to  the  wood  each  as  fast 
as  he  could,  and  thus  ended  the  strife.  Karlsefni  and  his  com- 
panions were  there  all  that  winter,  but  in  the  spring  Karlsefni 
said  he  would  stay  there  no  longer,  and  would  fare  to  Greenland. 
Now  they  made  ready  for  the  voyage,  and  bare  thence  much 
goods,  namely,  grape-vines  and  grapes  and  skin-wares.  Now  they 
sailed  into  the  sea  and  came  whole  with  their  ship  to  Eireksfirth, 
and  were  there  that  winter.'* 

The  next  year  Freydis,  a  daughter  of  Eirek  the  Red,  per- 
suaded two  Norwegian  voyagers  who  had  lately  iarrived  in 
Greenland,  to  undertake  an  expedition  to  Vinland  with  her 

*  BUmft^  ItKtidnia  —  anj  thing  made  of  milk. 


1849.]      DUcoverjf  of  America  by  the  Norsemfn*  201 

aod  her  hvsband.  They  departed,  accordingly,  in  two  ships, 
(1012,)  and  reached  Leif 's  booths  without  difficulty ;  but  in 
tiie  course  of  the  winter  Freydis,  who  appears  to  have  been  a 
woman  of  the  most  savage  temper,  stirred  up  quarrels  between 
the  two  ships'  companies,  and  finally,  having  with  her  party 
fallen  upon  the  Norwe^ans  by  night,  tied  them  hand  and  foot, 
and  killed  them  all. 

This  horrid  deed  seems  to  have  caused  a  repugnance  to  fur- 
ther visits  to  the  spot  where  it  was  perpetrated.  Then,  as 
Dr.  Hermes  remarks,  the  adventurous  spirit  of  the  Norsemen 
received  a  check  at  the  introduction  of  Christianity,  which  had 
now  spread  throughout  Greenland  as  well  as  Iceland.  Wheth- 
er Christianity  had  any  thing  to  do  with  it  or  not,  certain  it  is 
that  a  change  was  manifested  in  the  Norse  character  about  this 
time ;  that  they  seem  to  have  lost  some  of  their  old  vigor  and 
restless  spirit.  This  is  shown,  also,  in  the  fact  that  about  this 
time  (1023,)  Greenland  submitted  to  St.  Olaf  of  Norway. 
The  way  to  Vinland  seems  to  have  been  forgotten,  so  that 
when  Eirek,  the  first  Bishop  of  Greenland,  went  in  the  year 
1121  to  seek  it  out,  (at  Uita  VinlandB)  he  seems  to  have 
been  unsuccessful ;  at  least,  nothing  further  is  said  about  the 
voyage.  After  this  there  occur  in  various  of  the  Icelandic 
annals  records  of  the  finding  of  "new  land"  (fundu  nyja 
land*^  to  the  westward  of  Iceland,  but  no  definite  mention  of 
Vinland  until  the  year  1347,  when  some  sailors  arrived  in  Ice- 
land from  Greenland,  who  said  they  had  visited  Vinland. 

The  disturbed  state  of  the  Scandinavian  kingdoms  and  the 
bad  policy  of  their  rulers  interrupted  by  degrees  all  communi- 
cs^tion  with  these  distant  colonies.  All  trading  to  Iceland,  to 
Greenland,  and  the  other  distant  provinces,  without  a  special 
royal  license,  was  forbidden,  and  some  merchants  who  were 
driven  to  Greenland  in  a  storm,  in  the  year  1389,  were  prose- 
cuted on  their  return  for  breach  of  this  law.f  In  the  year 
1406,  the  last  Bishop  of  Greenland  was  appointed,  and  is  known 
to  have  officiated  there  in  14094  A.  letter  from  Pope  Nich- 
olas V.  to  the  Bishops  of  Skalholt  and  Holum,  in  the  year 

*  The  editors  of  the  ^nliquitaUs  Americana  suggest  that  this  term  n^afwndu 
land  may  have  been  the  origin  of  the  name  of  ISewfonndland,  discovered  by 
Sebastian  Cabot  in  1496-7.  There  was  donbtless  at  this  time  some  commer- 
cial interccmrse  between  England  and  Iceland.  This  conjecture,  if  well  found- 
ed, would  tend  to  show  thatl^ewfoundland  was  at  that  time  considered  as  th6 
Vinland  of  the  Norsemen. 

t  ^'leehmd,  Greenland,  and  the  Faroe  iBlands.**  — JUini,  Cab.  Z#.,  S74. 

X  Beamish,  p.  152. 
NO.  VT.  14 


202  DUdovery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen.     [Iforoh, 

1448)  speaks  of  the  destruction  of  the  greater  part  of  the  in- 
habitants of  Greenland,  and  of  their  churches,  &c.,  by  ^'  heath- 
en foreigners  from  the  neighbouring  coast,"  about  thuiij  years 
before. 

Already,  in  the  year  1349,  or  according  to  some,  1379,  the 
western  settlement  had  been  entirely  Isdd  waste  and  the  inhab- 
itants killed  by  the  Skraslings.  Probably  the  eastern  settle- 
ment fared  the  same.  Indeed,  there  is  a  tradition  current  to 
this  effect  among  the  Esquimaux  of  the  present  day.*  In 
1559,  the  prohibition  against  trading  to  Greenland  was  re- 
moved, and  ships  sent  thither,  but  they  were  hindered  by  the 
ice  from  approaching  the  eastern  coast,  (where  ihe  eastern 
settlement  was  erroneously  supposed  to  be,)  and  on  the  west- 
ern coast  only  Esquimaux  were  found,  and  they  so  barbarous 
and  ferocious  that  all  thoughts  of  intercourse  were  abandoned 
until  1721,  when  the  heroic  missionary  Hans  Egede  persuad- 
ed the  King  of  Denmark  to  establish  a  colony  there,  which  has 
been  maintained  ever  smce,  and  now  numbers  some  six  thou- 
sand inhabitants. 

Such  is,  in  brief,  the  chronicle  of  the  Norse  settlements  on 
this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  But  besides  these  special  accounts, 
incidental  notices  of  the  discovery  of  Vinland  occur  in  many 
of  the  historical  documents  of  the  North,  among  others  in  the 
Seimskrinffla  and  the  Eyrbyggia  Saga^  two  of  the  most  au- 
thentic among  them.f  All  these  notices  exist  in  MSS.  known 
to  be  older  (some  of  them  several  hundred  years  older,)  than 
Columbus's  discoveryV^To  reject  their  evidence,  therefore,  we 
must  suppose  a  universal  and  most  unaccountable  delusion  and 
a  fabulous  account  of  imagmary  regions,  corresponding  in  all 
essentials  with  an  existing  reality.  ^ 

It  is  true,  some  of  the  accountdare  mixed  with  fable,  and 
all  of  them  must  be  received  with  cautious  criticism.  One  of 
them,  the  Thorfin  KarUefni  Saga^  we  have  passed  over  alto- 
gether, although  it  has  been  conridered  (except  by  Dr.  Her- 
mes,) as  one  of  the  most  important  documents.  But  it  seems 
evidently  a  later  amplification  of  the  account  of  Karlsefhi'a 
voyage  given  in  the  Chraenlendinga  Thatt^  and  printed  above. 

*  Beamish,  pp.  151, 153, 156. 

t  For  instance,  Ejfrb.  Saga,  (Hafh.  1787)  Cup.  xlviii,  snb  anno  999 :  *'Biit 
Snorri  fared  to  Vinland  the  Good  with  Karlsemi,  and  there  fonght  with  the 
SkrsBlings;*  &c.  See,  also,  Hemtkringla,  Olaf  Try^ason's  Saga.  And  Ad- 
am of  Bremen  ( 1016)  mentions  the  disooveryof  "  winland,"  whm  gn;pn  and 
com  grew  wild. 


1849.]      JHseovertf  of  America  by  the  Noreemen.  208 

It  has  the  same  outline,  but  filled  up  with  various  additional 
incidents,  some  of  them,  perhaps,  genuine  traditions  of  the  voy- 
age, others  evidently  fabulous,  and  others,  again,  belonging  to 
other  voyages.  Various  incidents  simply  narrated  in  the  an- 
cient account  are  here  heightened  by  fanciful  or  supernatural 
features.  For  example,  in  the  account  of  the  death  of  Thor- 
vald  at  Eiarlamess,  (which  is  imported  hither  doubtless  as  an 
effective  incident,)  the  arrow  is  shot  by  a  uniped  (jdnfoetingr). 
And  the  heroism  of  his  simple  announcement  of  his  death- 
wound  is  sought  to  be  heightened  by  the  exclamation,  on  draw- 
ing out  the  arrow,  ^^  Fat  are  my  entrails,  it  is  a  good  land  we 
have  come  to,  but  little  good  will  come  to  us  of  it ; "  a  very 
clap-trap  sort  of  speech,  and  moreover  taken  at  second-hand 
firom  the  dying  speech  of  the  poet  Thormod  Kolbrunor-skalld, 
at  the  battle  of  Stiklestad.* 

Other  incidents  are  disfigured  in  a  similar  manner.  Thu% 
the  Skrselings  when  attacked  suddenly  sink  into  the  earth ;  the 
whale  they  &id  on  their  first  arrival  being  sent  in  consequence 
of  prayers  to  Thor,  proves  poisonous ;  an  addition  evidently 
belon^ng  to  an  epoch  when  Christianity  was  firmly  estab- 
lished, and  not  befitting  the  early  times  when  heathendom  was 
still  respectable,  although  on  the  decline.  So,  also,  his  connec- 
tion Eirek  the  Red  must  be  Christianized,  and  when  he  falls 
from  his  horse  attributes  it  to  his  having  sinfully  performed  a 
heathen  rite ;  whereas  we  know  from  the  older  account  that  he 
died  a  pagan.  Then  it  is  often  inconsistent  with  itself.  Thus 
in  the  commencement  it  says  Eirek  the  Red  had  two  sons,  Leif 
and  Thorstein,  but  afterwards  mentions  the  third,  Thorvald. 
Many  other  grounds  are  brought  forward  by  Hermes  in  his  in- 
troduction, to  show  that  this  Saga  is  of  later  origin,  and  in  fact 
a  fiskmily  chronicle  of  the  descendants  of  Earlsefiu,  whose  ex- 
ploits are  related  and  amplified  to  flatter  his  posterity,  and  into 
which  various  scattered  stories,  as  that  of  the  death  of  Thor- 
vald, are  introduced  in  order  to  increase  the  interest.  At  the 
end  of  the  QraenUndinga  Th&tt  are  genealogical  registers  of 
the  descendants  of  Earlsefiii,  ending  with  ^^  Brand  the  Bishop," 
and  "  Bjami  the  Bishop,"  who  were  in  power  in  Iceland  in  the 
latter  part  of  the  twelfth  century,  these  being  probably  the 
latest  descendants  at  the  time  the  Saga  was  written  down. 
But  the  Thorfin  KarUefni  Saga  continues  the  list  to  ^^  Hauk 

«  Hnmhrvni^  Olaf  H.  Saga,  cap.  247. 


204  Discovery  cf  Ammea  bg  the  JSRn'demM.     [Mirch, 

the  Judge,"  and  the  Abbesses  Oudnm  and  Salttera^  who 
lived  at  the  beginnmg  of  the  fourteenth  c^itnrj. 

This  Saga,  tiberefore,  is  to  be  received  with  great  caution, 
though  it  mentions  a  number  of  additionid  particulars,  which 
bear  the  marks  of  probability,  and  may  very  naturally  have 
been  handed  down  by  family  tradition. 

The  Sagas  which  tiie  editors  of  the  Antiquitates  Americcmoe 
and  Mr.  Beamish  after  diem  think  sufficient  ground  for  pre- 
senting us  with  maps  of  the  Southern  and  Middle  United 
States  as  far  as  the  IVCssissippi  valley,  under  the  name  of  It- 
land  it  ndlcla,  or  Svitramarmalandj  (Great  Ireland,  or  White 
Man's  Land,)  we  concur  with  Dr.  Hermes  (^Einleibwng^  48,) 
in  thinking  fabulous.  This  "  Great  Ireland,"  or  "  White  Man's 
Land,"  according  to  these  accounts,  was  six  days^  voyage  west- 
ward from  Ireland,  and  was  inhabited  by  persons  riding  on 
horses  and  speaking  the  Irish  language. 

It  appears,  then,  past  doubt,  that  some  part  of  the  nordieast- 
em  coast  of  North  America  was  visited  by  the  Scandinavians 
long  before  Columbus.  The  next  question  is  —  what  part  it 
was. 

The  former  opmion,  that  of  Malte  Brun  and  others,  was  in 
favor  of  Labrador  or  Newfoundland.  The  editors  of  the  An- 
tiqmtates  Americance  and  their  faithful  follower,  Mr.  Beamish, 
endeavour  to  show,  however,  partly  from  independent  evidence 
and  partly  from  the  descriptions  given  in  the  accounts  them- 
selves, that  it  was  much  further  south.  According  to  Mr. 
Beamish,  "  the  countries  discovered  by  Biami  were  Connecti- 
cut, Long  Island,  Rhode  Island,  Massachusetts,  Nova  Scotia, 
and  Nendbundland ; "  HeUuland  is  Newfoundland,  Marklomd 
Nova  Scotia ;  Leif 's  island  is  Nantucket,  and  the  place  where 
he  bmit  his  booths  Mount  Hope  Bay.  Cape  Cod,  Plymouth 
harbour,  and  even  Point  Alderton  and  Gurnet  Point  have  each 
assigned  to  it  a  Norse  name.  Even  Dr.  Hermes,  in  general 
skeptical  enough,  in  this  case  shows  unusual  easiness  of  faith. 
Now,  it  is  no  doubt  true  that  the  features  of  the  country  no- 
ticed by  the  Norsemen  correspond  often  very  strikingly  with 
points  on  the  New  England  coast.  Yet  before  any  conclu- 
sicms  are  founded  upon  such  resemblances,  it  should  be  shown 
that  the  descriptions  given  will  not  fit  equally  well  any  other 
region.  Thus,  for  instance,  it  is  very  true  that  grape-vines 
and  ^pes  occur  about  Mount  Hope  Bay,  but  so  they  do  in 


1849.]      JH$e<wery  of  America  by  the  Nbr$emen.  206 

Kova  Scotia  and  Canada.*  It  is  true  tiiat  halibuts  (or  floun- 
ders) and  maple  trees  are  common  on  the  coast  of  Rhode 
Island,  but  so  they  are  also  on  the  west  coast  of  Newfound- 
land. Neither  can  the  frequent  occurrence  of  sand-beaches 
and  flats  be  said  to  distinguish  the  Vineyard  Sound  from  parts 
of  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  In  short,  there  is  not  one  of  the 
supposed  indications  of  this  particular  locality  which,  as  far  as 
we  know,  can  be  smd  to  designate  particularly  any  one  region 
of  the  coast  between  Newfoundland  and  New  York,  except 
one  or  two,  which  we  shall  notice  as  making  decidedly  against 
their  hypothesis. 

In  the  first  place,  the  fact  being  admitted  that  the  Norse- 
men did  actually  reach  this  country,  it  is  most  natural,  unless 
the  contrary  be  shown,  to  suppose  that  their  exploration  was 
confined  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  point  first  reached.  The 
coast  between  Labrador  and  Long  Island  Sound  is  a  particu- 
larly rough  and  dangerous  one,  beset  with  rocks  and  sand^ 
banks,  rendered  more  perilous  by  strong  currents,  and  lashed 
by  the  fall  swing  of  the  Atlantic.  All  the  knowledge  and  skill 
of  the  present  day  are  insuflScient  to  prevent  frequent  ship- 
wrecks. It  is  to  be  remembered,  also,  that  the  Norsemen,  in 
exploring  an  unknown  coast,  would  not  steer  the  shortest  course 
from  one  point  to  another,  nor  launch  at  random  into  the  ocean, 
but  would  follow  the  windings  of  the  shores,  and  thus  probably 
double  the  distance  to  be  passed  over.  For  instance,  if  they 
kept  outside  of  Newfoundland,  they  would  not  steer  across  to 
Nova  Scotia,  but  return  to  the  Stnuts  of  Belle-Isle,  nearly 
where  they  started  from.  If  they  passed  inside,  they  would 
be  likely  to  ascend  the  St.  Lawrence  for  some  distance  before 
finding  it  was  a  river.  The  large  bays  so  numerous  on  this 
coast,  as  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  the  Bay  of  Chaleurs,  and  others, 
would  be  all  circumnavigated. 

These  things  are  needful  to  be  kept  in  mind,  in  order  to 
form  a  just  notion  of  what  is  in  fact  implied  by  the  voyages 
supposed.  We  do  not  intend  to  go  into  a  minute  examination 
of  the  topography  or  of  the  probable  distance,  but,  roughly 
estimated,  it  cannot  be  less  than  two  thousand  miles  from  the 
northern  coast  of  Labrador  to  Narragansett  Bay,  following 
the  larger  indentations  of  tiie  coast.  From  a  fortnight  to  three 
weeks  must  have  been  consumed  in  such  a  voyage,  at  the  least, 
and  any  account  of  it  could  not  fail  to  notice  the  deep  wind- 

*  McGregor's  Bnii$k  Jmeriea,  I.,  90. 


206  DUcovery  of  America  by  the  Nareemen.     [March, 

ings  and  bays  of  the  coast,  or  the  labyrinth  of  islands  and 
headlands.  Now  we  mamtain  that  nothmg  of  the  kmd  appears 
in  these  narratives.  They  are  evidently  plain-siuling  trips,  o! 
a  few  days  onlyl  It  is  only  by  the  most  violent  distortion  that 
the  ancient  geography  can  be  made  to  fit  the  hypothesis.  Let 
us  look  for  a  moment  at  the  accounts  themselves. 

In  the  first  place,  Biami,  sailing  for  Greenland,  struck  the 
American  coast  at  an  unknown  point,  which,  however,  was 
overgrown  with  wood.  It  might  have  been  Newfoundland  or 
Southern  Labrador.  Hence  he  sailed  northward  two  days,* 
finding  the  land  still  woody.  Then,  turning  away  from  the 
land,  he  sailed  three  days,  and  came  to  an  icy  and  mountam- 
ous  island,  perhaps  one  of  the  islands  at  the  mouth  of  Hud^ 
son's  Strcdt.  Then  he  bore  away  from  the  land  again  four 
days,  and  arrived  in  Greenland. 

Next  Leif,  sailing  for  the  new  counfcnr,  reached  the  spot 
which  Biami  last  visited,  and  named  it  Melluland  ;  thence  he 
proceeded  to  the  wooded  country,  which  he  called  Markland; 
the  number  of  days  not  given.f  It  seems  most  natural  to 
assume  that  this  was  the  most  northerly  part  of  the  coast  cov- 
ered with  forest ;  namely,  the  southern  part  of  Labrador  or 
the  northwesterly  part  of  Newfoundland,  which  was  formerly 
covered  with  a  dense  forest  of  large  trees,  j:  It  may  have  been 
a  more  southern  point,  but  the  burden  of  proof  is  on  those  who 
msdntain  this.  Hence  he  goes  in  two  days  to  Yinland.  In 
returning,  nothing  is  said  about  his  voyage,  which  would 
hardly  have  been  the  case  had  he  gone  to  the  southward  of 
the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence. 

Next  comes  Thorvald,  who  finds  Yinland  without  difficulty, 
and  after  his  death  his  seamen  return  without  their  leader,  and 
yet  no  incidents  of  the  voyage  are  mentioned. 

*  IVff  d€^:  there  is  an  uncertaintj  as  to  the  meaDing  of  this  word.  B. 
Haldorsen  in  his  Lexicon,  the  Glossary  to  the  Edda  Samundarj  (11.  58  and 
606f)  and  Rafn,  in  most  of  his  translations  in  the  JntiquUattt  Anuricanm^ 
disting^nish  between  dagr,  a  space  of  twelve  honrs,  and  dagr^  a  space  of  twenty- 
four  hours.  But  Rafn  afterwards,  in  a  note,  (p.  420,)  says  he  has  since  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  words  are  sometimes  synon3rmous,  giving  an  instance 
from  the  Laandnamabok^  and  he  thinks  snch  is  the  ease  throughout  these 
accounts.  For  this  change  of  opinion  he  gives  no  reasons  beyond  the  single 
citation  above,  but  to  be  on  the  safe  side  we  have  translated  throughout  in 
accordance  with  his  suggestion. 

t  In  the  Thorfin  KarUefni  Saga  it  is  said  to  be  two  days  (2  dagr). 

i  McGregor,  p.  145.  In  Captain  Atkins's  relation  concerning  the  coast  of 
Labrador,  lat  53°  40^,  he  says  the  woods  are  full  of  large  pines  and  other  trees 
suitable  for  ship-building.  In  Fitches  Inlet  he  found  g^  grass-land. — Moita- 
ckutetti  Hiitortcal  ColUctiom,  I,  p.  233. 


1849.]      IH9cw0ry  of  America  hy  ike  Mreemen.  207 

In  like  maimer  Thorfin  Earlsefiii  and  Freydis  and  her  com- 
panions all  sidl  to  Vinland  and  back,  without  any  remarks 
made  on  the  navigation  of  the  route. 

One  or  two  voyages  are  made  in  which  no  part  of  the  conti- 
nent is  reached,  but  we  do  not  hear  of  any  one  who  had  ever 
reached  any  part  of  the  continent  failing  to  find  Vinland,  or 
experiencing  ^e  slightest  difficulty. 

Now  it  is  to  be  observed  that  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence 
divides  the  northeastern  coast  into  two  quite  different  regions. 
Having  the  Labrador  coast  under  their  lee,  the  Norse  naviga- 
tors might  well  hit  that,  somewhere  to  the  northward  of  the 
region  of  forest,  that  is,  somewhere  in  Helluland,  (for  this  is 
evidently  only  a  general  expression  for  the  northern  barren 
regions).  To  coast  along  there  until  they  recognized  the 
landmarks  ^ven  by  their  predecessors  would  also  be  not  very 
difficult,  and  corresponds  with  the  accounts.  But  the  moment 
we  get  beyond  the  Straits  of  Belle-Isle,  the  case  is  entirely 
changed.  We  come  then  to  an  intricate  and  dangerous  navi- 
gation, which  we  cannot  suppose  the  traditions  of  a  nation  of 
sailors  should  have  passed  over  in  silence.  Nor  could  the 
requisite  distance  have  been  accomplished  in  the  time  stated. 
Even  if  we  assume,  according  to  the  entirely  unwarranted 
conclusion  of  the  Antiquitates  AmericaruBy  that  Markland  is 
Nova  Scotia,  and  suppose  the  intervening  regions  whisked  by 
without  remark,  yet  it  is  to  be  remembered  that  from  Cape 
Sable,  the  southernmost  extremity  of  Nova  Scotia,  to  Cape  Cod, 
in  a  direct  course,  is  seventy  leagues,  and  if  we  coast  round 
the  Bay  of  Fundy,  and  follow  the  indentations  of  the  shore, 
(as  explorers  unacquainted  with  the  navigation  would  of  course 
have  done,)  the  distance  will  be  nearly  doubled.  Add  to  this 
the  distance  to  Mount  Hope  Bay,  and  we  shall  have  not  far 
from  two  hundred  leagues,  or  six  hundred  miles,  which,  ac- 
cording to  the  average  day's  sailing  of  the  Norsemen  given 
by  the  Antiquitates  AmericcmcBy  (pp.  xxxrv  and  420,) 
namely,  one  hundred  and  eight  to  one  hundred  and  twenty 
miles,  would  have  been  five  or  six  days'  voyage,  whereas  Leif 
accomplished  it  in  two,  at  most.  Nor,  finally,  is  it  conceivable 
that  one  after  the  other  should  have  found  so  easily  the  sought- 
for  haven,  or  returned  with  so  little  apparent  difficulty.  The 
direct  evidence,  therefore,  feils  entirely. 

Various  collateral  circumstances,  however,  touching  the 
appearance  and  productions  of  the  country,  as  mentioned  in 
the  narratives,  have  been  brought  forward  in  support  of  the 


208  DUcovery  of  America  by  the,  Norsemen.     [March, 

hypothesis  in  question.  Most  of  these  are  already  disposed 
of.  Some  of  them  are  fabulous,  as  the  discovery  of  grain- 
fields,  in  the  Thorfin  Karhefni  Saga.  When  tnife  they  do  not 
prove  any  thing,  since  they  apply  as  well  to  the  region  about 
the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  as  to  our  own  coast.  Some  of  them 
do  not  apply  to  either  of  these  regions ;  such  are  the  mildness 
of  the  winter,  without  frost  or  snow,  and  afiFording  feed  to  cat- 
tle throughout  the  winter.  The  assertions  of  some  writers, 
that  snow  falls  indeed  in  New  England,  but  never  remains 
long  on  the  ground,  &c.,  &c.,  we  need  not  tell  our  readers 
are  entirely  unfounded ;  and  there  is  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
the  climate  has  ever  been  milder  than  at  present  within  the 
historical  era.  The  story  is  a  mere  exaggeration,  natural 
enough  from  the  contrast  with  the  winter  climate  of  Iceland 
and  Ureenland,  but  no  more  probable  as  to  the  State  of  Rhode 
Island  than  as  to  the  islands  of  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence. 
Something  has  been  attempted  to  be  made  of  the  names  Nau- 
set  and  mount  Hope^  which  occur  on  our  coast.  Nanset^  it 
is  supposed,  may  have  come  from  nesit^  a  cape  or  point.  But 
any  one  at  all  familiar  with  the  Indian  names  in  this  part  of 
the  country,  will  notice  the  similarity  of  sound  to  many  well 
known  names  of  localities,  such  as  Sokonesset^  Wamesitj  JVc- 
ponsetj  ITassanamesity  Okommakamesit^  Unset^  and  a  hundred 
others  ;  the  very  name  of  our  state,  MassackusettSy  is  of  this 
kind.  As  to  Mount  Hope,  which  is  sought  to  be  connected 
with  the  name  Itop^  occurring  in  the  Thorfin  Karhefni  Saga^ 
it  was  remarked  by  a  critic,  some  time  ago,  that  the  Indian 
word  was  not  Hope^  but  Montaup^  and  the  prefix  was  not 
made  by  the  whites,  but  by  the  Indians.  It  is  probably  the 
same  word  as  Montauk,  on  Long  Island.  And  there  is  a 
Mount  Hope  or  Montaup  in  Orange  county,  New  York ;  an- 
other in  the  neighbourhood  of  Albany  ;  one  in  Pennsylvania, 
one  in  South  Carolina,  one  in  Virginia,  and  no  less  than  three 
in  Alabama. 

Besides  these,  however,  two  pieces  of  evidence  have  been 
adduced  as  showing  the  presence  of  the  Norsemen  in  Narra- 
gansett  Bay.  One  of  these  are  the  inscriptions  on  the  Dighton 
rock,  and  others  in  that  neighbourhood ;  ttie  other,  the  remark 
made  in  the  Qraenlendinger  Thatt^  that  the  sun,  on  the  short- 
est winter  day,  was  above  the  horizon  nine  hours,  rising  at 
7  1-2  and  setting  at  4  1-2.  This,  the  antiquaries  have  reck- 
oned, would  make  the  latitude  41^  24'  10",  that  of  Seaconnet 
Point  being  41^  26',  and  this,  they  think,  all  things  taken  into 


1848.]      Dimmy  of  Asn»ioa  bjf  the  Shnmm,  209 

oonsidefdtioii,  Sb  neftr  enough.  I&  omr  opnmon  it  is  altogeliier 
too  neiir,  and  we  would  ask  what  chri^meters  <»r  other  meaos 
tlie  Icelanders  had,  to  tell  tiie  lime  of  day  so  exactly  ?  At 
home  in  Iceland,  and  probably  in  Greenland,  they  had  their 
^^  day^toicB/*  objects  in  the  landscape  which  they  had  learned 
lo  mayk  the  son's  {dace  by.  But  here,  of  course,  they  had 
no  help  pf  the  kind.  It  was  a  mere  guess,  and  however 
accurately  they  be  supposed  to  have  guessed,  they  may  very 
w^U  have  erri&d  half  an  hour  in  their  estimate.  But  half  an 
hour,  morning  and  night,  will  give  us  a  shortest  day  of  eight 
hours,  and  this  brings  us  to  about  the  latitude  of  &e  Struts 
of  Belle-Isle. 

As  to  the  Dighton  rock,*  the  strong  resemblance  of  the 
whole,  and  more  especisdly  of  the  square-shouldered  figure  on 
the  right,  to  the  paintings  on  bu&lo-robes,  &;c.,  lon^  ago 
excited  the  suspicions  of  those  acquainted  witii  the  handiwork 
of  our  Indian  tribes ;  and  since  the  publication  of  Messrs. 
Squier  &  Davis'  ^'Ancient  Monuments  of  the  Mississippi 
Valley,"  t  the  probabilities,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  are  decid- 
edly in  favor  of  the  Indian  origin  of  these  inscriptions.  These 
gentlemen  (pp.  293-800)  give  representations  and  descrip- 
tions of  six  sculptured  rocfc  occurring  on  the  Guyandotte 
river  in  Virginia,  and  notices  of  various  others  in  other  parts 
of  the  country,  all  bearing  a  strong  general  res^blance  to 
the  Dighton  rock.  The  objects  represented  are  men,  animals 
of  various  kinds,  and  their  tracks,  and,  moreover,  Imes,  trian- 
gles, circles,  &c.,  such  as  we  see  in  the  Dighton  rock. 

In  one  instance,  in  particular,  (fig.  206,)  two  figures  rep- 
resented on  the  left-hand  lower  comer  of  the  stone  instantly 
remind  one  of  the  figul^es  occupying  a  similar  position  in  the 
supposed  Norse  inscription.  On  another  occurs  a  very  distinct 
capital  P,  (fig.  200,)  which  would  make  quite  as  good  a 
Runic  2^A  (P)  as  that  which  in  the  other  case  has  been  so 
interpreted.  These  rocks  have  been  partly  covered  with 
earth,  and  are  thus  less  defaced  than  the  Dighton  rocks,  but 
they  need  only  to  have  some  of  the  connecting  lines  erased, 
to  make  letters  and  numerals  out  of  the  figures  of  men  and 
animals.  And  it  may  be  remarked,  that  the  horizontal  dispo- 
sition of  the  marks  on  the  Dighton  rock,  which  might  seem  to 

*  For  drawings  of  this  rock  see  the  AiUiomlaUt  jSmericana,  or  the  works  of 
Mr.  Beamish  or  Dr.  Hermes.  Also,  the  memoirg  of  the  jSmerican  Academy ^ 
Vol.  in.    There  is  a  fac-simile  cast  in  the  geological  collection  at  Cambridge. 

t  Smithsonian  Contributions  to  Knowledge,  Vol.  I. 


210  Diicavery  of  Ameriea  ijf  the  Norumm.    [Ifsrch, 

^ye  it  a  more  inscription-like  character,  was,  no  doabt,  deter- 
mined hj  the  horizontally  stratified,  slaty  stroctnre  of  that 
rock.  It  has  been  argued  that  the  hard  graywacke  of  the 
Di^ton  rock  could  not  have  been  cut  without  iron  instruments. 
But  in  the  work  above  cited,  we  have  numerous  instances  of 
elaborate  sculpture  of  porphyry,  quartz,  greenstone,  and  jas- 
per, in  implements  found  in  die  mounds  of  the  Western  coun- 
try.* 

We  think,  therefore,  that  there  is  thus  fiur  no  sufficient 
evidence  in  support  of  the  Mount  Hope  hypothesis.  On 
the  other  hand,  some  of  the  circumstances  mentioned  in  the 
account  of  Vinland  seem  to  us  strongly  in  favor  of  a  more 
northern  locality.  In  the  first  place,  it  is  universally  admitted 
that  the  Skrcslings  were  Esquimaux.  This  is  the  name  by 
which  the  undoubted  Esquimaux  of  Greenland  were  after- 
wards known.  And  it  could  not  have  been  borrowed  from 
thence  and  transferred  to  other  tribes,  since  the  Esquimaux 
did  not  make  their  appearance  at  the  Norse  settlements  in 
Greenland  until  long  afterwards.  Their  skin-boats  agree  with 
what  we  know  of  the  Esquimaux  canoes,  but  not  with  those  of 
any  of  our  Indians.  In  the  Thorfin  KarUefm  Saga  they  are 
said  to  have  used  slings,  an  implement  unknown,  we  believe, 
among  the  more  southern  races,  but  in  use  (at  least,  some 
similar  contrivance  for  casting  darts,)  among  the  Esquimaux. 

Now  it  is  very  certwn  that  no  traces  of  the  Esquimaux 
have  ever  been  seen  to  the  southward  of  Labrador*  The  sug- 
gestion of  Hermes,  (p.  101,)  that  they  may  formerly  have 
inhabited  New  England,  and  have  been  since  driven  northward 
by  the  Indians,  is,  we  believe,  without  the  slightest  foundation. 
The  Esquimaux  are  evidently  a  northern  race,  representing  the 
Kamschatkans  and  other  northern  tribes  of  Asia,  and,  doubt- 
less, from  the  first  confined  to  similar  latitudes.  It  is  no 
more  likely  that  the  Esquimaux  ever  inhabited  this  part  of  the 

*  It  is  also  t«marked,  that  these  scalptores  seem  to  have  been  performed 
with  a  gtmgfthaped  instrument.  This  was  noticed  as  to  the  Digfaton  rock,  in 
some  of  the  earliest  accoants.  See  Mem,  Am.  Acad.^  IIL,  175  et  seq.  And 
Messrs.  Sqnier  &  Davis  (p.  298)  notice  that  the  figures  on  thefiocks  described 
by  them  were  evidently  jiehed  into  the  etorUj  and  not  regularly  chiselled.  The 
Rhode  Island  Society's  committee  say  of  the  Dighton  inscriptions,  that  the 
chuacters  are  'Specked  in  upon  the  rock  and  not  chiselled  or  smoothly  cut 
out" — Jnti^itates  Americana^  p.  358.  It  may  be  remarked  here,  that  the 
resemblance  is  still  stronger  in  the  case  of  the  Portsmouth  and  Tiverton  rocks, 
(see  figures  in  Atttiquitatti  Americana,)  in  which  the  figures  are  yet  more  at 
random. 


1849.]      IHieavery  of  America  by  the  Norsemen.  211 

continent,  than  that  polar  bears  or  Arctic  foxes  were  found 
here. 

Other  norihem  features  in  the  Scandinavian  narrative  are 
the  abundance  of  sahnon  and  the  skins  of  sables,  both  animals 
being  at  this  day  remarkably  abundant  about  the  St.  Lawrence 
region.  Salmon  are  found  as  far  south  as  the  Merrimack  river 
in  this  state,  and  they  formerly  ascended  the  Connecticut ;  but 
we  are  not  aware  that  they  were  ever  found  in  Taunton  river, 
'  nor  is  it  likely  they  ever  frequented  so  sluggish  a  stream.  We 
never  heard  of  the  so-called  sable  (^Mustela  Maries)  in  Mas- 
sachusetts or  Rhode  Island.  That  they  formerly  may  have 
occurred  there  is  possible ;  but,  at  aU  events,  both  salmon  and 
sable  certainly  indicate  a  more  northern  region.* 

The  remarkable  rise  and  fall  of  the  tide,  which  seems  to 
have  struck  the  ancient  navigators,  is  much  more  in  accord- 
ance with  the  more  easterly  position  of  Newfoundland  and  the 
^  adjacent  regions,  where,  from  the  absence  of  obstruction,  the 
*  tides  rise  to  a  much  greater  height  than  on  the  New  England 
coast.! 

We  have  dwelt  thus  disproportionately  long  on  this  compar- 
atively unimportant  point,  because  no  one,  to  our  knowledge, 
has  taken  the  trouble  before  to  state  the  obvious  considerations 
that  arise  on  reading  these  ancient  accounts  in  the  region  of 
which  they  are  supposed  to  treat. 

Our  attention  was  called  to  the  subject  at  this  time  by  the 
receipt  of  Dr.  Hermes'  very  interesting  pamphlet.  But  we 
have  left  ourselves  no  room  for  any  thing  more  than  a  recom- 
mendation of  his  critical  and  thorough  performance  to  all 
interested  in  the  matter.  As  for  the  other  works  on  our  list, 
the  ArUiquitates  Americance  have  probably  been  heard  of  by 
most  of  our  readers.  An  account  of  it  may  be  found  in  the 
North  American  Review  for  January,  1838. 

[Since  writing  the  above,  we  have  had  an  opportunity, 
through  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Webb,  of  reading  an  account  of 
the  '' skeleton  in  armour"  dug  up  at  Fall  River,  in  the  year 

*  The  same  maj  be  said  of  the  eider-dncks'  nests,  which  are  mentioned  in 
the  Thorfln  Kariufni  Saga  as  occnrrine  in  great  numbers  on  the  islands. 
These  birds  pass  and  repass  our  coast  in  men  annual  mimtions,  but  that  thej 
ever  built  here  is  highly  improbable,  since  it  is  a  decidedly  arctic  species,  and 
would  find  the  weather  mucn  too  warm  in  the  breeding  season.  On  the  other 
hand,  they  are  known  to  breed  in  great  numbers  on  the  coast  of  Labrador. 

t  In  the  harbour  of  Mingan,  on  the  Labrador  coast,  north  of  Anticosti,  the 
tide  rises  from  ten  to  twelve  (ett  —  Bhmt'i  Coatt  PUot^  p.  103. 


212  3{$eovery  of  America  ty  the  Narsenmn.     [March, 

1881,  and  whieh,  it  has  been  thou^,  might  be  the  remains 
of  one  of  the  Norse  colonists.  This  account  was  sent  by  Dr. 
Webb  to  the  Society  of  Northern  Antiquaries  in  Copenhagen, 
and  published  by  them  in  the  "  Mimoires  de  la  Sociit6  Royale 
des  Antiquaires  du  Nord,"  Copenhagen,  1843.  Prom  it  we 
extract  the  following  particulars,  l^e  skeleton  was  found  m 
a  sand-bank,  at  a  short  distance  inland  from  the  mouth  of 
Taunton  river. 

*^  The  individual  was  buried  in  a  sitting  posture,  with  the  legs 
flexed  upon  the  thighs  and  the  thighs  bent  towards  the  abdomen ; 
the  hands  were  inclined  to,  if  not,  indeed,  resting  against,  the 
clavicular  portion  of  the  thorax.  The  body  had  evidently  been 
carefully  enveloped  in  several  coverings  of  woven  or  braided 
baik-cloth  of  different  textures,  the  finest  being  innermost ;  and 
exterior  to  the  whole  was  a  casement  of  oedar-b^k.  On  the  chest 
was  found  a  breast-plate  of  brass  or  other  metallic  composidon, 
measuring  about  fourteen  inches  in  length  and  five  and  one  fourth  ^ 
inches  in  breadth  at  one  end,  and  six  inches  at  the  other.  .  .  . 
The  impression  of  the  skin  is  very  strongly  exhibited  in  some 
parts.  What  were  the  original  length  and  form  of  this  plate  it  is 
impossible  for  me  to  say,  as  it  was  broken  or  destroyed  at  both 
ends  when  found.  Over  the  breastplate,  at  its  lower  extremity, 
and  completely  encircling  the  body,  was  a  belt,  consisting  of  me- 
tallic tubes  arranged  in  close  contact  with  each  other,  so  as  to 
make  a  continuous  cincture.  These  tubes  are  in  length  four  and 
a  half  inches,  and  in  diameter  one  fourth  inch.  .  .  .  These 
were  formed  around  pieces  of  hollow  reed,  the  edges  being  brought 
so  nicely  in  contact  as  to  give  them  the  appearance  of  unbroken 
cylinders.  Through  the  inclosed  reeds  sinews,  or  narrow  strips  of 
animal  hide,  were  passed,  and  the  ends  braided  together,  so  that 
another  string,  similar  in  kind,  might  run  transversely  at  top  and 
bottom,  and  thus  complete  the  belt  Two  armlets  or  bracelets 
were  found  near  the  remains ;  these,  when  closely  examined, 
appear  lo  have  been  made  not  of  manufactured  or  dressed  leather, 
but  of  raw  hide,  (having  the  hair  still  upon  them).  .  .  .  The 
only  other  articles  found  were  half  a  dozen  arrow-heads,  made  of 
the  same  material  that  the  breastplate  and  sash  or  cincture  were.** 

These  were  triangular,  two  inches  long  by  one  and  a  third 
wide,  and  perforated  at  base.  Pieces  of  the  shafts,  a  few 
inches  long,  were  still  connected  with  the  heads.  The  metal 
bemg  afterwards  examined  by  Berzelius,  proved  to  be  brass, 
of  about  the  ordinary  composition. 

"Wherever  the  breastplate  or  cincture  came  in  contact  with 
or  near  propinquity  to  the  body,  there  the  flesh,  underneath  and 


1349.]      JH§6om^  ^  AMri(M  ijf  ihfi  Nmme$^.  218 

for  a  few  iDokeB  above  and  below,  waa  in  Bach  a  p^eot  state  of 
preservation,  that  the  muscles  could  be  readily  separated  or  dis- 
sected from  one  another.  The  flesh  and  integuments  on  the  trunk, 
from  the  top  of  the  shoulders  down  to  the  short  ribs,  likewise  on 
the  hands  and  arms,  with  the  exception  of  the  elbows,  and  on  the 
inner  side  of  the  right  leg  or  knee,  were  well  preserved.  The 
bark  coverings  were  much  decayed,  except  when  they  came  in 
contact  with  the  metallic  trappings." 

The  following  osteological  measurements  are  given  in  the 
same  article  by  Dr.  Hooper  of  Fall  River :  Os  femoris,  18  3-4 
inches ;  Tibia,  14  1-2.  Lower  jaw :  vridth  at  angles,  4  1-16 ; 
ditto  at  top  of  coronoid  process,  3  15-16;  from  symphysis 
to  angle,  8  34.  Cranium:  Circumference  at  division  line 
between  sincipital  and  basilar  regions,  (as  laid  down  by  phre- 
nolo^ts,)  20  1-2 ;  firom  root  of  nose  to  junction  of  coronal 
and  sa^ttal  sutures,  5  1-2 :  from  ditto  to  external  occipital 
protuberance,  18  34 ;  between  the  meatus  auditorii  over 
Rrmness,  13  14 ;  ditto  over  Causality,  11  34 ;  over  Cau- 
tiousness, 13  5-8  ;  parietal  diameter  half  an  inch  above  mea- 
tus, 5  1-4  ;  ditto  throng  "  superior  edges  of  ossa  temporum," 
5  1-2 ;  ditto  through  Cautiousness,  5  3-8.  "  The  skull  indi- 
cates a  deficiency  of  Philoprogenitiveness,  which  i$  not  char- 
aeteristic  of  the  IncUan.^^  No  article  of  European  maiiii£ie- 
ture  could  be  found.  No  Indian  burial-ground  is  known  to 
have  existed  on  this  spot,  but  there  is  a  very  ancient  one 
tiiree  fourths  of  a  mile  north,  and  another  about  the  same  dis- 
tance northwest  of  it.  Nothing  of  the  character  of  the  articles 
above  described  has  been  found  in  these.  The  land  was  occu- 
pied and  improved  by  the  whites  as  early  as  1681. 

These  hi^y  interesting  remains,  with  the  exception  of  the 
spechnens  of  bark-fabric  and  the  brass  tubes,  sent  to  Den- 
mark, were  destroyed  by  fire  a  few  years  since.  Neverthe- 
less, we  think  enough  appears  from  the  above  account  to  show 
that  they  belonged  to  the  aborigines  of  the  country,  and  not 
to  any  European  colonist.  The  metal  of  which  the  onwanents 
were  composed  was  undoubtedly  of  European  origin,  but  the 
forms  into  which  it  had  been  wrought  are  almost  identical  with 
those  of  the  copper  ornaments  found  in  the  mounds  of  the 
West,  (see  Squier  &  Davis'  "  Monuments,  &c.,"  pp.  205, 
207,)  and  leave  a  suspicion,  as  a  learned  friend  of  ours  re- 
marks, that  they  may  trace  their  origin  to  some  of  the  brass 
kettles  of  those  Frenchmen,  who,  in  Captain  John  Smith's 
time,  had  so  overstocked  the  New  England  market,  that  the 


214  DUeovery  of  Ameriea  by  iJie  Nor9emm.    [March, 

worthy  captain  thought  it  not  worth  his  while  to  enter  Mas- 
sachusetts Bay.  Some  of  these  kettles.  Dr.  Webb  sajs,  are 
found  in  neighbouring  Indian  graves.  At  all  events,  the 
metal,  although  European,  does  not  give  the  slightest  pre- 
sumption of  a  Norse  origin,  for  even  if  we  extend  the  "  age  of 
bronze"  as  far  as  that  period,  these  ornaments  are  not  of 
bronze,  but  of  brass,  which,  we  believe,  was  not  in  use 
among  the  Norsemen.  The  sitting  position  of  the  body,  it  is 
well  known,  is  usual  among  Indian  remains.  The  braided 
cedar-bark  is  decidedly  an  Indian  manufacture,  and  is  still 
eztennvely  used  for  cords  among  the  Ojibwas  and  probably 
other  tribes.  Then  the  state  of  preservation  of  the  body 
and  of  the  arrow-shafts  militates  strongly  agunst  any  great 
antiquity.  It  is  true,  the  salts  of  copper  exercise  a  strong  an- 
tiseptic influence,  but  here  the  effect  would  be  rather  too  ex- 
tensive. For  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  a  sand-bank  is,  per- 
haps, the  most  unfavorable  position  for  the  preservation  of 
organic  remains,  owing  to  its  permeability  to  water  and  the 
fiftcility  with  which  it  condenses  and  absorbs  moisture  from  the 
atmosphere.  A  careful  examination  of  the  skeleton  might  set- 
tle the  question,  but  this,  unfortunately,  is  no  longer  possible. 
Perhaps  some  of  our  anatomical  readers  may  satisfy  them- 
selves from  the  few  notes  made  by  Dr.  Hooper.  On  tfa&  point 
we  may  notice  the  unusual  proportions  of  the  leg-bones,  the 
femur  being  longer  and  the  tibia  shorter  than  the  average  in 
the  European  type.  Then  the  proportions  of  the  skull  seem 
to  approach  more  nearly  to  those  of  the  American  races. 
Krause  gives  as  the  average  parietal  diameter  between  the 
tulera  parietcUiay  (which  we  take  to  be  the  bump  of  Cautious- 
ness,) 6.128  inches  in  the  male  European  cranium,  and  6.039 
in  the  female.  Dr.  Hooper's  measurement  of  the  same  part 
will  be  seen  to  be  less,  in  which  it  agrees  with  Dr.  Morton's 
measurements  of  aboriginal  American  skulls,  in  wluch  the  av- 
erage of  this  diameter  is  5.5  to  5.6.  Then  the  greater  parietal 
diameter  at  the  highest  point  of  the  squamous  suture  (Secre- 
tiveness?)  agrees  with  the  pyramidal  form  noticed  by  Dr. 
Morton.  Above  all,  the  "  deficiency  of  Philoprogenitiveness," 
namely,  the  flat  occiput,  is,  perhaps,  the  most  unequivocal 
characteristic  of  the  American  type  yet  discovered.  See  Mor- 
ton's Crania  Americana^  p.  65.] 


1849.]    Chaaraeter  of  Mr.  Fr4$eoU  a$  an  JBRitman.       215 


Art.  IV.  —  1.  The  HhUyry  cf  the  Reign  of  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella  the  Catholic.  By  William  H.  Prbscott, 
&o.,  &;c.    Boston.    1838.     3  vols.     8vo. 

2.  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico,  with  a  PreHmi- 
nary  View  of  the  Ancient  Mexican  CiviUzation  and  the 
Life  of  the  Conqueror,  Hernando  Cortes.  By  William 
H.  Pbescott,  &c.,  &c.    New  York.  1846.    3  vols.  8vo. 

3.  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Peru,  with  a  Preliminar 
ry  View  of  the  Civilization  of  the  Incas.  By  William 
H.  Prescott,  &c.,  &c.    New  York.   1847.   2  vols.  8vo. 

It  is  now  more  than  eleven  years  since  our  accomplished 
,  and  distingmshed  countryman,  Mr.  Prescott,  appeared  before 
the  world  as  a  writer  of  history.  Within  that  period  he  has 
sent  forth  three  independent  historical  works,  which  have  found 
a  wide  circle  of  readers  in  the  New  World  and  the  Old.  His 
works  have  been  translated  into  all  the  tongues  of  Europe, 
we  think,  which  claim  to  be  languages  of  literature ;  they 
have  won  for  the  author  a  brilliant  renown,  which  few  men 
attain  to  in  their  lifetime ;  few,  even,  after  their  death.  No 
American  author  has  received  such  distinction  from  abroad. 
The  most  eminent  learned  societies  of  Europe  have  honored 
themselves  by  writing  his  name  among  their  own  distinguished 
historians.  He  has  helped  strengthen  the  common  bond  of  all 
civilized  nations,  by  writing  books  which  all  nations  can  read. 
Yet  while  he  has  received  this  attention  and  gained  this  re- /^ 
nown,  he  has  not  found  hitherto  a  philosophical  critic  to  inves-^ 
^tigate  his  works  carefully,  confess  the  merits  which  are  there, 
point  out  the  defects,  if  such  there  be,  and  coolly  announce 
the  value  of  these  writmgs.  Mr.  Prescott  has  found  eulo^ts 
on  either  continent ;  he  has  found,  also,  one  critic,  who  adds  to 
national  bigotry  the  spirit  of  a  cockney  in  literature ;  whose 
stand-point  of  criticism  is  the  church  of  Bowbell ;  a  man  who 
degrades  the  lofty  calling  of  a  critic  by  the  puerile  vanities  of 
a  literary  fop.  The  article  we  refer  to  would  have  disgraced 
any  journal  which  pretended  to  common  fairness.  We  often 
find  articles  in  the  minor  journals  of  America,  written  in  a 
little  and  narrow  spirit,  but  remember  nothing  of  the  kind  so 
little  as  the  paper  we  spak  of  in  the  London  Quarterly 
Review,  No.  CXXVII.,  Art.  1.  We  have  waited  long  for 
some  one  free  from  national  prejudice  to  come,  with  enliurged 
views  of  the  duty  of  a  historian,  having  suitable  acquaintance 


\no 


21C      OhmraaUr  of  Mr.  Pr§$oaU  a$  m  Mktmfi^    [Mardi^ 

with  the  philosophy  of  history,  a  competent  knowled^  of  the 
subjects  to  be  treated  of,  and  enough  of  the  spirit  of  Humanity, 
and  oarefolly  examine  these  works  in  all  the  li^t  of  modem 
philosophy.  We  have  waited  in  vain ;  and  now,  co&scioos  of 
our  own  defects,  knowing  that  every  qualification  above  hint- 
ed may  easily  be  denied  us,  we  address  ourselves  to  the  work. 
The  department  of  history  does  not  belong  to  our  special 
study ;  it  is,  therefore,  as  a  layman  that  we  shall  speaK,  not 
aspiring  to  pronounce  the  high  cathedral  judgment  of  a  profes- 
sor in  Sat  craft ;  the  History,  Literature,  and  General  Devel- 
opment of  the  Spanish  nation  fall  still  less  witliin  the  special 
range  of  the  writer  of  this  article.  We  are  students  of  history 
only  in  common  with  all  men  who  love  liberal  studies  and  pursue 
history  only  in  tiie  pauses  from  other  tmls.  However,  the  re- 
markable phenomena  offered  by  the  Spanish  nation  in  the  fif- 
teenth and  sixteenth  centuries  long  ago  attaracted  our  attention 
and  study.  Still,  it  is  with  reluctance  we  approach  our  task ; 
bad  any  of  the  able  men  whose  business  it  more  properly  is, 
girded  himself  and  applied  to  the  work,  we  would  have  held 
our  peace ;  but  in  the  silence  of  such  we  feel  constrained  to 


Before  we  proceed  to  examine  the  works  of  Mr.  Prescott, 
let  a  word  be  said  of  the  oflSce  and  duty  of  an  Historian — to 
indicate  the  stand-point  whence  his  books  are  to  be  looked 
upon.  The  writer  of  Annals,  or  of  Chronicles,  is  to  record 
events  in  the  order  in  which  they  occur ;  he  is  not  an  Hbto- 
rian,  but  a  Narrator ;  not  an  Architect,  but  a  Lumberer,  or 
Stonecutter  of  History.  It  does  not  necessarily  belong  to  his 
calling  to  elaborate  his  materials  into  a  regular  and  complete 
work  of  art,  which  shall  fully  and  philosophically  represent  the 
Life  of  the  nation  he  describes. 

The  Biographer  is  to  give  an  idea  of  his  hero,  complete  in 
all  its  parts,  and  perfect  in  each ;  to  show  how  the  world  and 
the  age  with  their  manifold  influences  acted  on  the  man,  and 
he  on  his  age  and  the  world,  and  what  they  jointly  jaxKiuced. 
It  is  one  thing  to  write  the  Memoirs  or  Annals  of  a  man,  and 
a  matter  quite  different  to  write  his  Life.  Mr.  Lockhart  has 
collected  many  memorials  of  Sir  Walter  Scott ;  laboriously 
written  annals,  but  the  Life  of  Sir  Walter  he  has  by  no  means 
written.  In  telling  what  his  hero  suffered,  did,  and  was,  and 
how  all  was  brought  to  pass,  the  Biographer  must  be  a  crit- 
ic also,  and  tell  what  his  hero  ought  to  have  been  and  have 
done.     Hence  comes  the  deeper  interest  and  the  more  in- 


1849.]     Ohartufter  of  Mr.  Pre$eatt  ca  an  Hiftorim.       217 

Btniotive  character  of  a  tme  Biography ;  Memoirs  may  enter- 
taio,  but  a  Biography  must  instruct. 

The  Annalist  of  a  nation  or  a  man  works  mainly  in  an  ob- 
jective way,  and  his  own  character  appears  only  in  the  selec- 
tion or  omission  of  events  to  record,  in  referring  events  to 
causes,  or  in  deducing  consequences  from  causes  supposed  to 
be  in  action.  There  is  little  which  is  personal  in  his  work.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  personality  of  the  Biographer  continually  ^ 
appears.  The  lumberer's  character  or  the  stonecutter's  does  ' 
not  report  itself  in  the  oak  or  travertine  of  Saint  Peter's, 
while  the  genius  of  the  architect  confronts  you  as  you  gaze 
upon  his  colossal  work.  Now  as  the  less  cannot  of  itself 
comprehend  the  greater,  so  a  biographer  cannot  directly,  and 
of  himself,  comprehend  a  man  nobler  than  himself.  All  the 
Oysters  in  the  world  would  be  incompetent  to  write  the  life  of  " 
a  single  Eagle.  It  is  easy  for  a  great  man  to  understand  the 
little  man ;  impossible  to  be  directly  comprehended  thereby. 
It  is  not  hard  to  understand  the  position  of  a  city,  the  mutua) 
relation  of  its  parts,  when  we  look  down  thereon  firom  a  high 
tower.  Now  while  this  is  so,  by  the  advance  of  mankind 
in  a  few  centuries,  it  comes  to  pass  that  a  man  of  but  com- 
mon abilities,  having  the  culture  of  his  age,  may  stand  on  a 
higher  platform  than  the  man  of  genius  occuped  a  short  time 
before.  In  this  way  the  Biography  of  a  great  man,  which 
none  of  his  contemporaries  could  undertake,  because  he  so  far 
overmastered  them,  soon  becomes  possible  to  men  of  marked 
ability,  and  in  time  to  men  of  ordinary  powers  of  comfprehen- 
sion.  At  this  day  it  would  not  be  very  difficult  to  find  men 
competent  to  write  the  Life  of  Alexander  or  of  Charlemagne, 
yet  by  no  means  so  easy  to  find  one  who  could  do  justice  to 
Napoleon.  Lord  Bacon  was  right  in  leaving  his  "  name  and 
memory "  "  to  foreign  nations  and  to  mine  own  countrymen 
after  some  time  be  passed  over."  We  are  far  from  thinking 
Lord  Bacon  so  great  as  many  men  esteem  him,  but  at  his 
death  there  was  no  man  among  his  own  countrymen,  or  in  for^ 
eign  nations,  meet  to  be  his  judge.  The  followers  of  Jesus 
collected  only  a  few  scanty  memorials  of  the  man,  and  they 
idio  have  since  undertaken  his  life  are  proofs  that  the  world 
has  not  caught  up  with  his  thoughts,  nor  its  foremost  men  ris- 
en high  enough  to  examine,  to  criticize,  and  to  judge  a  sjnrit 
so  commanding.  But  after  all,  no  advance  of  mankind,  no 
culture  however  nice  and  extensive,  will  ever  enable  a  Hobbes 
or  a  Hume  to  write  the  Life  of  a  Jesus  or  even  a  Plato.     It 

NO.  VI.  15 


218     Oharacter  of  Mr.  PreseoU  as  an  Sktorian.     [March, 

wodd  be  hard,  even  now,  to  find  a  man,  in  En^and  or  oat  of 
it,  competent  to  give  us  the  Biography  of  Shakspeare,  even  if 
he  had  all  that  Annals  and  Memoirs  might  furnish. 

iNow  an  Historian  is  to  a  Nation  what  a  Biographer  is  to  a 
Man :  he  b  not  a  bare  chronicler,  to  indite  the  memoirs  of  a 
nation  and  tickle  his  reader  with  a  mere  panorama  of  events, 
however  great  and  brilliantly  colored,  —  events  which  have  a 
connection  of  time  and  place,  but  no  meaning,  coming  from  no 
^  recognized  cause  and  leading  to  no  conclusion ;  he  is  to  ^ve 
us  the  Nation's  Life, — its  Outer  Life  in  tiie  civil,  military,  and 
commercial  transactions ;  its  Inner  Life  in  the  thought  and 
feeling  of  the  people.  If  the  Historian  undertake  the  entire 
^history  of  a  nation  that  has  completed  its  career  of  existence, 
then  he  must  describe  the  country  as  it  was  when  the  people 
first  appeared  to  take  possession  thereof,  and  point  out  the 
successive  changes  which  they  efiected  therein ;  the  geograph- 
ical position  of  the  country,  its  natural  features  —  its  waters, 
mountains,' plains,  its  soil,  climate,  and  productions  —  all  are 
important  elements  which  help  modify  the  character  of  tiie 
nation.  The  Historian  is  to  tell  of  the  origin  of  the  people, 
of  their  rise,  their  decline,  their  fall  and  end ;  to  show  how 
they  acted  on  the  world,  and  the  world  on  them,  —  what  was 
mutually  given  and  received.  The  causes  which  advanced  or 
retarded  the  nation  are  to  be  sought,  and  their  action  ex- 
plidned.  He  is  to  inquire  what  Sentiments  and  Ideas  pre- 
vailed in  the  nation;  whence  they  came,  from  without  the 
people  or  from  within ;  how  they  got  organized,  and  vrith  what 
result.  Hence,  not  merely  are  the  civil  and  military  transac- 
tions to  be  looked  after,  but  the  Philosophy  which  previdls  in 
tbe  nation  is  to  be  ascertained  and  discoursed  of ;  the  Liter- 
ature, I^aws,  and  Religion.  The  Historian  is  to  describe  the 
industrial  condition  of  the  people,  —  the  state  of  Agriculture, 
Commerce,  and  the  Arts  —  both  the  useful  and  the  beautiful ; 
to  inform  us  of  the  means  of  internal  communication,  of  the 
intercourse  with  other  nations  —  military,  conmiercial,  liter- 
ary, or  religious.  He  must  tell  of  the  Social  State  of  the 
people,  the  relation  of  the  cultivator  to  the  soil,  the  relation  of 
class  to  class.  It  is  important  to  know  how  the  Revenues  of 
the  state  are  raised ;  how  the  taxes  are  levied  —  on  person  or 

f>roperty,  directly  or  indirectly ;  in  what  manner  they  are  col- 
ected,  and  how  a  particular  tax  affects  the  welfare  of  the 
people.  The  writer  of  a  Nation's  Life  must  look  at  the  whole 
people,  not  merely  at  any  oqe  clfhss,  noble  or  plebeian,  and 


1849.]     Oharaeter  of  Mr.  Pre$cott  as  an  HUtorian.       219 

must  give  the  net  result  of  their  entire  action,  so  l^at  at  ike 
end  of  his  book  we  can  say :  ^^  This  people  had  such  senti- 
ments and  ideas,  which  led  to  this  and  the  other  deeds  and 
institutions,  which  have  been  attended  by  such  and  such  re- 
sults ;  they  added  this  or  that  to  the  general  achievement  of 
the  Human  Race." 

Now  in  the  history  of  each  nation  there  are  some  Eminent 
Men,  in  whom  the  spirit  of  the  nation  seems  to  culminate  — 
either  because  ihej  are  more  the  nation  than  the  nation  is 
itself,  or  because  by  their  eminent  power  they  constrain  the  nsr 
tion  to  take  the  form  of  these  individuals ;  such  men  are  to  be 
distinctly  studied  and  carefully  portrayed ;  for  while  embody- 
ing the  nation's  genius  they  are  an  epitome  of  its  history.  In 
a  first  survey,  we  know  a  nation  best  by  its  great  men,  as  a 
country  by  its  m9untms  and  its  plains,  its  waters  and  its 
shores, — by  its  great  characters.  Still,  while  these  eminent 
men  are  to  be  put  in  the  foreground  of  tiie  picture,  the  humblest 
class  is  by  no  means  to  be  neglected.  In  the  Family  of  Man 
there  are  elder  and  younger  brothers ;  it  is  a  poor  history  which 
neglects  either  class.  A  few  facts  from  the  every-day  life  of 
the  merchant,  the  slave,  the  peasant,  the  mechanic,  are  often 
worth  more,  as  signs  of  the  times,  than  a  chapter  which  relates 
the  intrigues  of  a  courtier,  though  these  are  not  to  be  over- 
looked. It  is  well  to  know  what  songs  the  peasant  sung ;  what 
prayers  he  prayed  ;  what  food  he  ate  ;  what  tools  he  wrought 
with  ;  what  tax  he  payed  ;  how  he  stood  connected  with  the 
soil ;  how  he  was  brought  to  war,  and  what  weapons  armed  him 
for  the  fight.  It  is  not  very  important  to  know  whether  Gen- 
eral Breakpate  commanded  on  tiie  right  or  the  left ;  whether 
he  charged  uphill  or  downhill ;  whether  he  rode  a  bright 
chestnut  horse  or  a  dapple  gray,  nor  whether  he  got  dis- 
mounted by  the  breaking  of  his  saddle-girth  or  the  stumbling 
of  his  beast.  But  it  is  important  to  know  whether  the  soldiers 
were  accoutred  well  or  ill,  and  whether  they  came  voluntarily 
to  the  war,  and  fought  in  battle  with  a  will,  or  were  brought  to 
the  conflict  against  their  own  consent,  not  much  caring  which 
side  was  victorious. 

In  telling  what  has  been,  the  Historian  is  also  to  tell  what 
ought  to  be,  for  he  is  to  pass  judgment  on  events,  and  try 
counsels  by  their  causes  first  and  their  consequences  not  less. 
When  all  these  things  are  told,  History  ceases  to  be  a  mere 
panorama  of  events  having  no  unity  but  time  and  place ;  it 
becomes  Philosophy  teaching  by  experience,  and  has  a  profound 


220     OharadxT  of  Mr.  PreseoU  at  an  HUtorian.     [Maroh, 

meaning  and  awakens  a  deep  interest,  while  it  tells  ike  lesscms 
of  the  Past  for  the  warning  of  the  Present  and  the  edification 
of  the  Future.  A  nation  is  but  a  single  family  of  tiie  Human 
Race,  and  the  Historian  should  remember  that  tiiere  is  a  life 
of  the  Race,  not  less  than  of  the  several  nations  and  each 
special  man. 

If  the  Historian  takes  a  limited  period  of  the  life  of  any 
country  for  his  theme,  then  it  is  a  single  chapter  of  the  na- 
tion's story  that  he  writes.  He  ought  to  show,  by  way  of 
introduction,  what  the  nation  has  done  beforehand  ;  its  condi- 
tion, material  and  spiritual,  the  state  of  its  Foreign  Relations, 
and  at  home  the  state  of  Industry,  Letters,  Law,  Philosophy, 
Morals,  and  Religion.  After  showing  the  nation's  condition 
at  starting,  he  is  to  tell  what  was  accomplished  in  the  period 
under  examination  ;  how  it  was  done,  and  with  what  result  at 
home  and  abroad.  The  Philosophy  of  History  is  of  more 
importance  than  the  Facts  of  History ;  indeed,  save  to  the 
antiquary  who  has  a  disinterested  love  thereof,  they  are  of 
littie  value  except  as  they  set  forth  that  Philosophy. 

Now  the  subjective  character  of  an  Historian  continually  ap- 
pears, colors  his  narrative,  and  affects  the  judgment  he  passes 
on  men  and  things.  You  see  the  mark  of  the  tonsure  in  a 
history  written  by  a  priest  or  a  monk ;  his  standing-point  is 
commonly  the  belfry  of  his  parish  church.  A  courtier,  a  tri- 
fler  about  the  court  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  has  his  opinion  of 
events,  of  their  causes  and  their  consequences ;  a  cool  and  wise 
politician  judges  in  his  way ;  and  the  philosopher,  neither  a 
priest,  nor  courtier,  nor  yet  a  politician,  writing  in  eitiier  age, 
comes  to  conclusions  different  from  all  three.  A  man's  philo- 
sophical, polldcal,  moral,  and  religious  creed  will  appear  in  the 
history  he  writes.  M.  de  Potter  and  Dr.  Neander  find  very 
dififerent  things  in  the  early  ages  of  the  Christian  church ;  a 
Catholic  and  a  Protestant  History  of  Henry  the  Eighth  would 
be  unlike.  Mr.  Bancroft  writes  the  history  of  America  from  the 
stand-pomt  of  Ideal  Democracy,  and,  viewed  from  that  point, 
things  are  not  what  they  seem  to  be  when  looked  at  from  any 
actual  Aristocracy.  Hume,  Gibbon,  Mackintosh,  and  Schlos- 
ser,  Sismondi,  Michelet,  and  Macaulay,  all  display  their  own 
character  in  writing  their  several  works.  Hume  cannot  com- 
prehend a  Puritan,  nor  Gibbon  a  "Primitive  Christian;" 
Saint  Simon  sees  little  in  Fenelon  but  a  disappointed  courtier, 
and  in  William  Penn  Mr.  Bancroft  finds  an  ideal  Democrat. 

A  man  cannot  comprehend  what  wholly  transcends  himself. 


1849.]     Chaaracter  of  Mr.  Prescott  as  an  Historian.       221 

Could  a  Cherokee  write  the  history  of  Greece  ?  a  Mexican, 
with  the  average  culture  of  his  nation,  would  make  a  sorry 
figure  in  delineating  the  character  of  New  England.  If  the 
Historian  be  a  strong  man,  his  work  reflects  his  own  character ; 
if  that  be  boldly  marked,  then  it  continually  appears  —  the  one 
thing  that  is  prominent  throughout  his  work.  In  the  Life 
and  Letters  of  Cromwell  we  get  a  truer  picture  of  the  au- 
thor than  of  the  Protector.  The  same  Figure  appears  in  the 
French  Revolution,  and  all  his  historical  composition  appears 
but  the  grand  Fabling  of  Mr.  Carlyle.  But  if  the  Historian  is 
a  weak  man,  a  thing  that  may  happen,  more  receptive  than 
impressive,  then  he  reflects  the  average  character  of  his 
acquaintance,  the  circle  of  living  men  he  iaoves  in,  or  of 
the  departed  men  whose  books  he  reads.  Such  an  Historian 
makes  a  particular  country  his  special  study,  but  can  pass 
thereon  with  only  the  general  judgment  of  his  class.  This  is 
true  of  all  similar  men :  the  water  in  the  pipe  rises  as  high  as 
in  the  fountain,  capillary  attraction  aiding  what  friction  hin- 
dered ;  you  know  beforehand  what  an  average  party-man  will 
think  of  any  national  measure,  because  his  "  thought "  does 
not  represent  any  individual  action  of  his  own,  but  the  general 
average  of  his  class.  So  it  is  with  an  ordinary  clergyman ; 
his  opinion  is  not  individual  but  professional.  A  strong  man 
must  have  his  own  style,  his  own  mode  of  sketching  the  out- 
line, filling  up  the  details,  and  coloring  his  picture ;  if  he  have 
a  mannerism,  it  must  be  one  that  is  his  own,  growing  out  of 
himself,  and  not  merely  on  him,  while  in  all  this  the  small  man 
represents  only  the  character  of  his  class :  even  his  style,  his 
figures  of  speech,  will  have  a  family  mark  on  them ;  his  man- 
nerism will  not  be  detected  at  first,  because  it  is  that  of  all 
his  friends.  Perhaps  it  would  make  littie  difference  whether 
Michael  Angelo  was  bom  and  bred  amid  the  rugged  Alps  or 
in  the  loveliest  garden  of  Valombrosa — his  genius  seeming 
superior  to  circumstances ;  but  with  an  artist  who  has  Uttie 
original  and  creative  power,  local  peculiarities  affect  his  style 
and  appear  in  all  his  works. 

Now  within  a  thousand  years  a  great  change  has  come  over 
the  spirit  of  history.  The  historical  writings  of  Venerable 
Bede  and  of  Louis  Blanc,  the  Speculum  Hystoriale  of  Vincen- 
cius  Bellovacensis,  so  eagerly  printed  once  and  scattered  all 
over  Europe,  and  the  work  of  Mr.  Macaulay,  bear  marks 
of  their  respective  ages,  and  are  monuments  which  attest  the 
progress  of  mankind  in  the  historic  art. 


222      Character  of  Mr.  Prescott  as  an  Historian.     [March, 

In  the  middle  ages  Chivalry  prevailed :  a  great  respect  was 
felt  for  certsdn  prescribed  rules ;  a  great  veneration  for  cer- 
tain eminent  persons.  Those  rules  were  not  always  or  neces- 
sarily rules  of  Nature,  but  only  of  Convention ;  nor  were  the 
persons  always  or  necessarily  those  most  meet  for  respect,  but 
men  accidentally  eminent  oftener  than  marked  for  any  substan- 
tial and  personal  excellence.  The  Spirit  of  Chivalry  appears 
in  the  writers  of  that  time,  —  in  the  Song  and  the  Romance,  in 
History  and  Annab,  in  Homilies,  and  in^  Prayers  and  Creeds. 
Little  interest  is  taken  in  the  people,  only  for  their  chiefs ; 
little  concern  is  felt  by  great  men  for  industry,  commerce, 
art;  much  for  arms.  Primogeniture  extended  from  Law 
into  Literature;  History  was  that  of  Elder  Brothers,  and 
men  accidentally  eminent  seemed  to  monopolize  distinction  in 
letters,  and  to  hold  possession  of  History  by  perpetual  entail. 
History  was  aristocratic ;  Rank  alone  was  respected,  and  it 
was  thought  there  were  but  a  few  hundred  persons  in  the 
world  worth  writing  of,  or  caring  for ;  the  mass  were  thought 
only  the  sand  on  which  the  mighty  walked,  and  useful  only  for 
that  end ;  their  lives  were  vulgar  lives,  their  blood  was  puddle 
blood,  and  their  deaths  were  vulgar  deaths. 

Of  late  years  a  very  diflferent  spirit  has  appeared ;  slowly 
has  it  arisen,  very  slow,  but  it  is  real  and  visible,  —  the  Spirit 
of  Humanity.  This  manifests  itself  in  a  respect  for  certain 
rules,  but  they  must  be  Laws  of  Nature  —  rules  of  Justice  and 
Truth ;  and  in  respect  for  all  mankind.  Arms  yield  not  to 
the  gown  only,  but  to  the  frock ;  and  the  aproned  smith  with 
his  creative  hand  beckons  destructive  soldiers  to  an  humbler 
seat,  and  they  begin  with  shame  to  take  the  lower  place,  not 
always  to  be  allowed  them.  This  Spirit  of  Humanity  appears 
in  Legislation,  where  we  will  not  now  follow  it ;  —  but  it  ap- 
pears also  in  Literature.  Therein  Primogeniture  is  abolished ; 
the  entail  is  broken ;  the  monopoly  at  an  end ;  tiie  Elder  Sons 
are  not  neglected,  but  the  Younger  Brothers  are  also  brought 
into  notice.  Li  History  as  in  Trade,  the  course  is  open  to  tal- 
ent. History  is  becoming  democratic.  The  Life  of  the  People 
is  looted  after ;  men  write  of  the  ground  whereon  the  mighty 
walk.  While  the  coins,  the  charters,  and  the  capitularies  — 
which  are  the  monuments  of  kings — are  carefully  sought  after, 
men  look  also  for  the  songs,  the  legends,  the  ballads,  which 
are  the  medals  of  the  People,  stamped  with  their  image  and 
superscription,  and  in  these  find  materials  for  the  Biography 
of  a  nation.    The  manners  ani  customs  of  the  great  mass  of 


1849.]      Charader  of  Mr.  Pre$eoU  as  cm  Historian.      228 

men  are  now  investigated,  and  civil  and  military  transactions 
are  thought  no  longer  the  one  thing  most  needful  to  record. 
This  spirit  of  Humanity  constitutes  the  charm  in  the  writings 
of  Niebuhr,  Schlosser,  Sismondi,  Michelet,  Bancroft,  Grote, 
Macaulay,  tiie  greatest  historians  of  the  age ;  tiiey  write  in 
the  interest  of  mankind.  The  absence  of  this  spirit  is  a  sad 
defect  in  the  writings  of  Mr.  Carlyle;  —  himself  a  ^ant,  he 
writes  History  in  the  interest  oiily  of  giants. 

Since  this  change  has  taken  place,  a  new  demand  is  made 
of  an  Historian  of  our  times.  We  have  a  right  to  insist  that 
he  shall  give  us  the  Philosophy  of  History,  and  report  the  les- 
sons thereof,  as  well  as  record  the  facts.  He  must  share 
the  Spirit  of  Humanity  which  begins  to  pervade  the  age  ;  he 
must  not  write  in  the  interest  of  a  class,  but  of  mankind,  — 
in  the  interest  of  Natural  Right  and  Justice.  Sometimes, 
however,  a  man  may  be  excused  for  lacking  tfie  Philosophy 
of  History ;  no  one  could  expect  it  of  a  Turk ;  if  a  Russian 
were  to  write  the  history  of  France,  it  would  be  easy  to  for- 
^ve  him  if  he  wrote  in  the  interest  of  tyrants.  But  when  a  . 
man  of  New  England  undertakes  to  write  a  history,  there  is  ^/ 
less  excuse  if  his  book  should  be  wanting  in  Philosophy  and 
in  Humanity ;  less  merit  if  it  abound  therewith. 


Mr.  Prescott  has  selected  for  his  theme  one  of  the  most 
important  periods  of  history  —  from  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth 
to  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century.  The  three  greatest 
events  of  modern  times  took  place  during  that  period:  the 
Art  of  Printing  was  invented,  America  discovered,  the  Prot- 
estant Reformation  was  begun.  It  was  a  period  of  intense 
life  and  various  activity,  in  fbrms  not  easily  understood  at 
this  day.  The  Revival  of  Letters  was  going  forward;  the 
classic  models  of  Ghreece  and  Rome  were  studded  anew  ;  the 
Revival,  also,  of  Art ;  Lionardo  da  Vinci,  Pietro  Perugino, 
Michael  Angelo,  Raphael,  were  achieving  their  miracles  of 
artistic  skill.  Science  began  anew ;  new  Ideas  seemed  to 
dawn  upon  mankind ;  modem  Literature  received  a  fresh 
impulse.  The  new  Thought  presentiy  reported  itself  in  all 
departments  of  life.  Navigation  was  improved ;  commerce 
extended;  a  new  world  was  discovered,  and,  buted  by  the 
hope  of  gold  or  driven  by  discontent  and  restless  love  of 
change,  impelled  by  desire  of  new  things  or  constrained  by 
conscience,  the  Old  World  rose  and  poured  itself  on  a  new 


224     Character  qf  Mr.  Pre^eott  a$  «n  Hutarian.     [March, 

oontment,  and  with  new  Ideas  to  found  empree  ipaighUer  than 
the  old.  In  Europe  a  revolution  advanced  with  £e  steps  of 
an  earthquake.  The  Hercules-Pillars  of  anthoritj  were  shak- 
en ;  the  berf  rose  against  his  Lord  ;  the  great  Barons  every- 
where were  losing  their  power ;  the  great  Kings  oonsolidating 
their  authority.  Feudal  institutions  reeled  with  l^e  tosangs  of 
the  ground,  and  fell  —  to  rise  no  more.  It  was  the  age  of  the 
Medici,  of  Macchiavelli,  and  of  Savonarola ;  of  Erasmus  and 
Copernicus ;  of  John  Wessel,  Reuchlin,  Scaliger,  and  Agri- 
cola  ;  Luther  and  Loyola  lived  in  that  time.  The  Ninety-five 
Theses  were  posted  on  the  church  door ;  the  Utopia  was  writ- 
ten. There  were  Chevalier  Bayard  and  Gonsalvo  "the 
Great  Captain";  Cardinal  Ximenes,  and  Columbus.  Two 
great  works  mark  this  period, — one,  the  establishment  of 
National  Unity  of  Action  in  the  great  monarchies  of  Europe, 
the  king  conquering  the  nobles ;  tibe  other,  the  great  Insurrec- 
tion of  Mind  and  Conscience  against  arbitrary  power  in  the 
school,  the  state,  the  church, — an  insurrection  which  no  le- 
{^ons  of  mediaevsJ  scholars,  no  armies,  and  no  Councils  of  Basil 
and  of  Trent  could  prevent  or  long  hinder  from  its  work. 

Writing  of  this  age,  Mr.  Prescott  takes  for  his  chief  theme 
one  of  the  most  prominent  nations  of  the  world.  Spun,  how- 
ever, was  never  prominent  for  Thought ;  no  Idea  welcomed  by 
other  nations  was  ever  bom  or  fostered  in  her  lap ;  she  has 
no  great  Philosopher — not  one  who  has  made  a  mark  on  tiie 
world  ;  no  great  Poet  known  to  all  nations ;  not  a  single  Ora- 
tor, ecclesiastic  or  political ;  she  has  been  mother  to  few  great 
names  in  Science,  Art,  or  Literature.  In  Commerce,  Venice 
and  Genoa  long  before  Spain,  England  and  Holland  at  a  later 
date,  have  fiur  out-travelled  her.  Even  in  Arms,  save  the  brief 
glory  shed  thereon  by  tiie  Great  Captain,  Spiun  has  not  been 
distinguished ;  surely  not  as  France,  England,  and  even  the 
Low  Countries.  But  her  geographical  position  is  an  important 
one — between  the  Atlantic  and  the  Mediterranean.  At  the 
time  in  question  her  population  was  great,  perhaps  nearly 
twice  that  of  England,  and  she  played  an  important  part  in 
the  affiurs  of  Europe,  while  England  had  little  to  do  with  the 
continent.  Spiun  was  connected  with  the  Arabs,  for  some 
centuries  the  most  civilized  people  in  Europe ;  hence  she 
came  in  contact  with  industry,  skill,  and  riches,  with  letters 
and  with  art,  and  enj^ed  opportunities  denied  to  all  the  other 
nations  of  Europe.  For  her  subsequent  rank  among  nations, 
Spain  is  indebted  to  two  events,  which,  as  they  did  not  come 


1849.]      OharaOer  of  Mr.  Fr0$eM  m  an  Matorian.      225 

from  the  gemus  of  the  people,  may  be  called  accidental.  One 
was  tiie  connection  with  the  house  of  Austria,  the  singular 
circumstance  which  placed  the  united  crowns  of  Castile  and 
Arragon  on  the  same  head  which  bore  the  imperial  diadem  of 
Germany.  This  accident  gave  a  lustre  to  Spiun  in  the  age  of 
Charles  the  Fifth  and  his  successor.  But  the  other  cause, 
seemingly  more  accidental,  has  given  Spain  a  place  in  hktory 
which  nothing  else  could  have  done  —  the  fact  that  when  the 
Genoese  navigator  first  crossed  the  Atlantic,  the  Spanish  flag 
was  at  his  mast-head. 

Mr.  Prescott  writes  of  Spain  at  her  most  important  period, 
at  the  time  when  the  two  monarchies  of  Castile  and  Arragon^ 
were  blent  into  one ;  when  the  Moors  were  conquered  and 
expelled ;  ike  Inquisition  established ;  the  Jews  driven  out ; 
the  old  Laws  revised ;  a  new  world  discovered,  conquered, 
settled,  its  nations  put  to  slavery,  Christianity,  or  death  ;  an 
age  when  Negro  Slavery,  Christianity,  and  tiie  Inquisition 
first  visited  this  western  world.  Not  only  has  the  historian  a 
great  age  to  delineate  and  great  events  to  deal  with,  —  a  new 
continent  to  describe,  a  new  race  to  report  on,  their  oripn, 
character,  language,  literature,  art,  manners,  and  religion,  — 
but,  to  enliven  his  picture,  he  has  great  men  to  portray. 
We  will  not  speak  of  Ferdinand,  Isabella,  and  Charles  the 
Fifth,  who  pass  often  before  us  in  kingly  grandeur ;  but  there 
are  Gonsalvo,  Ximenes,  and  Columbus,  here  are  Cortes  and 
Pizarro. 

Few  historians  have  had  an  age  so  noble  to  describe ;  a 
theme  so  rich  in  events,  in  ideas,  and  in  men  ;  an  opportunity 
so  fortimate  to  present  the  lessons  of  History  to  ages  yet  to 
come.  The  author  has  this  further  advantage :  he  lives  far 
enough  from  the  age  he  writes  of  to  be  beyond  its  bigotry  and 
its  rage.  The  noises  of  «  city  hardly  reach  the  top  of  a 
steeple  ;  all  l^e  din  of  battie  is  hushed  and  still  far  below  the 
top  of  Mont  Blanc  ;  and  so  in  a  few  years  the  passions,  the 
heat,  the  dust,  the  rage  and  noises  of  kings  and  nations  are 
all  sUenced  and  lost  in  the  immeasurable  stillness  which  settles 
down  upon  the  Past.  If  the  thinker  pauses  from  his  busy 
thought,  and  after  a  year  or  so  returns  thither  again,  how 
clear  it  all  becomes !  So  is  it  with  mankind :  the  problems  of 
that  age  are  no  problems  now ;  what  could  not  then  be  settled 
with  all  the  noise  of  parliaments  and  of  arms,  in  the  after- 
silence  of  mankind  has  got  its  solution.  Yet  Mr.  Prescott  does 
not  live  so  &r  from  the  time  he  treats  of  that  genius  alone  has 


226     Charad^r  of  Mr.  PreMcoU  m  im  IR$Urimk.     [March, 

power  to  recall  the  faded  images  thereof,  to  disqmet  and  bring 
it  up  agiun  to  life.  Yet  he  lives  so  remote  that  he  can  judge 
counsels  by  their  consequences  as  easily  as  by  Iheir  cause ; 
can  judge  theories,  laws,  institutions,  and  great  men  by  the 
influence  they  have  had  on  tiie  world,  —  by  their  seal  and  sig- 
nal mark.  In  addition  to  these  advantages,  he  lives  in  a  land 
where  there  is  no  censorship  of  Ihe  press  ;  where  the  body  is 
free,  and  the  mind  free,  and  the  conscience  free  —  to  him  who 
will.  His  position  and  his  theme  are  both  enviable ;  giving 
V         an  Historian  of  the  greatest  genius  scope  for  all  his  powers. 

V  To  judge  only  from  his  writings,  Mr.  Prescott  is  evidently  a 
man  with  a  certain  niceness  of  literary  culture  not  very  com- 
mon in  America ;  of  a  careful  if  not  exact  scholarship  in  the 
languages  and  literature  of  Italy  and  Spain.  Perhaps  he  can- 
not boast  a  very  wide  acquaintance  with  literature,  ancient  or 
modem,  but  is  often  nice  and  sometimes  critical  in  his  learning. 
He  is  one  of  the  few  Americans  not  oppressed  by  the  lUn 
i-  dngusta^iomi^  who  devote  themselves  to  literature  ;  to  a  life 
A  of  study  and  the  self-denial  it  demands  in  all  countries,  and 
eminently  here,  where  is  no  literary  class  to  animate  the 
weary  man.  His  quotations  indicate  a  wealthy  library — 
his  own  fortune  enabling  him  to  procure  books  which  are  rare 
even  in  Spam  itself.  Where  printed  books  fidl,  manuscripts, 
also,  have  been  diligently  sought.  He  writes  in  a  mild  and 
amiable  spirit :  if  he  diflfer  from  other  historians,  he  empties 
no  vials  of  wrath  upon  their  heads.  He  always  shows  him- 
self a  Gentleman  of  Letters,  treating  his  companions  with 
agreeable  manners  and  courtesy  the  most  amiable.  Few  lines 
in  these  volumes  appear  marked  with  any  asperity,  or  dictat- 
ed in  any  sourness  of  temper.  These  few  we  shall  pass  upon 
in  their  place. 

Within  less  tiian  thirteen  years  eight  volumes  have  appeared 
from  his  hand ;  the  first  evidently  the  work  of  many  years, 
but  the  last  five  volumes  reveal  a  diligence  and  ability  to  work 
not  common  amongst  the  few  literary  gentlemen  of  America. 
Labor  under  disadvantages  always  commands  admiration.  How 
many  have  read  with  throbbing  heart  the  lives  of  men  pursu- 
ing ^'  knowledge  under  difficulties ; "  yet  such  men  often  had 
one  advantage  which  no  wealth  could  give,  no  colleges  and 
guidance  of  accomplished  men  supply — an  able  Intellect  and 
the  unconquerable  Will :  but  Mr.  rrescott  has  pursued  his  lar 
bors  under  well  known  difficulties,  which  might  make  the  stout- 


1849.]     Character  of  Mr.  PreseM  as  an  Hutorian.       22T 

est  qoidl.  These  things  considered,  no  fair  man  can  fiul  to 
honor  the  accomplished  author,  and  to  rejoice  in  the  laurels 
so  beautifully  won  and  worn  with  modesty  and  grace. 

After  this  long  preamble,  let  us  now  examine  the  three 
works  before  us,  and  see  how  the  author  has  done  the  high 
duties  of  an  Historian.  Treating  of  this  great  theme,  we  shall 
speak  of  the  three  works  in  their  chronological  order,  and 
examine  in  turn  the  History  of  Spain,  of  Mexico,  and  of  Peru, 
in  each  case  speaking  of  the  Substance  of  the  work,  first  in 
details,  then  as  a  whole  —  and  next  of  its  Form.  The  re- 
mainder of  this  article  will  be  devoted  to  the  History  of  Fer- 
dinand and  Isabella. 

To  understand  what  was  done  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, 
we  must  know  what  had  been  achieved  before  their  time,  — 
must  take  the  national  account  of  stock.  This  Mr.  Prescott  un- 
dertakes in  his  Introduction,  (Vol.  I.,  pp.  xxix. — cxxiv.,) 
but  he  fails  to  render  an  adequate  account  of  the  condition  of 
Castile  and  Arragon,  and  of  course  it  is  not  easy  for  the  read- 
er to  appreciate  the  changes  that  subsequentiy  were  made 
therein. 

To  be  a  little  more  specific :  his  account  of  the  condition  of 
the  Law  is  meagre  and  inadequate ;  the  history  of  the  Re- 
form and  Codification  of  laws  poor  and  hardly  intelligible 
(Part  I.,  Ch.  VI.)  ;  and  though  he  returns  upon  the  theme  in 
the  general  account  of  the  administration  of  Ferdinand  and 
IsabeUa,  (Part  II.,  Ch.  xxvi.)  still  it  is  not  well  and  adequately 
done.  What  he  says  of  the  Cortes  of  Castile  and  that  of 
Arragon  does  not  give  one  a  clear  idea  of  the  actual  condi- 
tion and  power  of  those  bodies.  He  does  not  tell  us  by  whom 
and  how  the  members  were  chosen  to  their  office ;  how  long 
they  held  it,  and  on  what  condition.  The  reader  wonders  at 
the  meagreness  of  this  important  portion  of  the  work,  espec- 
ially when  such  materials  lay  ready  before  his  hands.  After 
all,  we  find  a  more  complete  and  intelligible  account  of  the 
Constitution,  of  the  Laws,  and  of  the  administration  of  justice 
in  the  brief  chapter  of  Mr.  Hallam's  work  than  in  this  elabo- 
rate histoi^.  Nay,  the  work  of  Mr.  Dunham,  written  for  the 
Cabinet  Ut/clopcediay  written  apparently  in  haste,  and  not 
always  in  good  temper — gives  a  far  better  account  of  that 
matter  than  Mr.  Prescott.  This  is  a  serious  defect,  and  one 
not  to  be  anticipated  in  an  Historian  who  in  this  country  under- 
takes to  describe  td  us  the  ancient  administration  of  a  foreign 


228     Chtmutter  of  Mr.  Pr€%eo1t  09  m  Buit^^     [March, 

land.  Witii  a  A^  tiie  stadent  remembers  the  masterly  chapter 
of  Gibbon  which  treats  of  tiie  administration  of  justice  and  of 
the  Roman  Law,  a  chapter  which  made  a  new  era  in  the 
study  of  the  subject  itself,  and  longs  for  some  one  to  guide  him 
in  this  difficult  and  crooked  path.  With  the  exception  of  tiie 
Code  of  the  VtsiffothSj  the  Fiiero  Jvago,  and  the  Siete  Parti- 
daSy  works  of  Spanish  Law,  or  treating  thereof,  are  in  but 
few  hands :  Marina,  Zuaznavar,  and  Grarcia  de  la  Madrid  can 
be  but  little  known  in  England  or  America ;  for  information 
the  general  scholar  must  here  depend  on  the  historian ;  con- 
sidering the  important  place  that  Spanish  legislation  has  held, 
the  wide  reach  of  the  Spanish  dominion  on  both  continents,  it 
was  particularly  needful  to  have  in  this  work  a  clear,  thorough, 
and  masterly  digest  of  this  subject. 

In  speaking  of  the  Revenue  of  the  Kingdom,  Mr.  Prescott 
does  not  inform  us  how  it  was  collected,  nor  from  what  sources. 
(Introduction,  Sect.  i.  and  n.  and  Part  I.,  Ch.  vi.)  We  are 
told  that  the  kin^  had  his  royal  demesnes,  that  on  some  occa- 
sions one  fifth  of  the  spoils  of  war  belonged  to  him,  and  it 
appears  that  a  certain  proportion  of  the  proceeds  of  the  mines 
was  his — but  there  is  no  systematic  or  methodical  account  of 
the  Revenues.  True,  he  tells  us  that  Isabella  obtidns  money 
by  mortgaging  her  real  estate  and  pawning  her  personal  prop- 
erty (Part  I.,  Ch.  xrv.)  ;  afterwawls  it  appears,  accidentally, 
that  two  ninths  of  the  tithes,  TerciaSj  formed  a  part  of  the 
royal  income.  (Part  11.,  Ch.  i.,  p.  283)  We  are  told  that 
the  Revenues  increased  thirty  fold  during  this  administration. 
(Part  n.,  Ch.  XXVI.,  p.  484.)  It  is  mentioned  as  a  proof  of 
sagacity  in  the  ruler  and  of  the  welfare  of  the  people — but  we 
are  not  told  whence  they  Were  derived,  and  it  appears  that 
in  1604  the  single  city  of  Seville  paid  nearly  one  sixth  of  the 
whole  revenue.*  In  a  note  he  tells  us  that  the  bulk  of  the 
crown  revenue  came  from  the  Terdas  and  the  Alcavalas, 
The  latter  was  an  odious  tax  of  ten  per  cent,  on  all  articles 
bought,  sold,  or  transferred.  Mr.  Prescott  tells  us  it  was 
commuted  —  but  how  or  for  what  he  does  not  say.  (Part  IE., 
Ch.  XXVI.,  p.  438.) 


*  Mr.  Prescott  says  near  a  tenth.  This  is  probably  a  clerical  or  typog^nphical 
error.  The  whole  arooant  is  gireo  in  the  autbority  as  209,500,000  marayedis, 
of  which  Seville  paid  30,971,096. 


1849.]     Character  af  Mr.  PreieoU  as  an  Eiitmm.       229 

Annies  figure  largely  in  any  histoiy  of  Spain,  bat  it  is  in 
vain  that  we  ask  of  Mr.  Prescott  how  the  armies  were  nused, 
and  on  what  princi|de,  the  modem  or  the  feudal ;  how  they 
were  equipped,  paid,  fed,  and  clothed.  He  often  dwells  upon 
battles,  telhng  us  who  commanded  on  the  right  or  the  left ; 
can  describe  at  length  Ihe  tournament  of  Trani,  and  the  duel 
between  Bayard  and  Sotomayor — but  he  nowhere  gives  us  a 
description  of  the  Military  Estate  of  the  realm,  and  nowhere 
relates  the  general  plan  of  a  campaign.  This,  also,  is  a  seri- 
ous defect  in  any  history,  especially  in  that  of  a  nation  of  the 
fifteenth  century  —  a  period  of  transition.  He  does  not  inform 
us  of  the  state  of  Industry,  Trade,  and  Commerce,  or  touch, 
except  incidentally,  upon  the  effect  of  the  laws  thereon.  Yet 
during  this  reign  the  laws  retarded  industry  in  all  its  forms,  to 
a  great  degree.  Soon  after  the  discovery  of  America,  Spain 
forbade  the  exportation  of  gold  and  silver,  and,  as  Don  Cle- 
mencin  says,  "  our  industry  would  have  died  from  apoplexy  of 
money,  if  the  observance  of  the  laws  established  in  this  matter 
had  not  been  suflScient  fw  its  rum."  At  a  later  date  it  was 
forbidden  to  export  even  the  raw  material  of  silk  and  wool. 
"  Spam,"  says  M.  Blanqui,  the  latest  writer  on  the  political 
economy  of  that  country  that  we  have  seen  —  "  is  the  country 
of  all  Europe  where  the  rashest  and  most  cruel  experiments 
have  been  made  at  the  expense  of  industry,  which  has  almost 
always  been  treated  as  a  foe,  managed  to  the  death  (exploitie 
d  Vautrance)  instead  of  being  protected  by  the  Government, 
,  and  regarded  as  a  thing  capable  of  taxation,  rather  than 
a  productive  element."  Restrictions  were  laid  not  only  on 
intercourse  with  foreign  nations,  but  on  the  traffic  between 
province  and  province,  and  a  tax,  sometimes  an  enormous  one, 
the  Alcavala^  was  collected  from  the  sale  of  all  articles  what- 
ever. "  Members  of  the  legal  and  military  profession,"  says 
M.  Blanqui,  ^'  affected  the  most  profound  contempt  for  every 
form  of  industry.  Any  man  who  exercised  a  trade  was  dis- 
graced for  life.  A  noble  who  ventured  to  work  lost  his  privi- 
lege of  nobility,  and  brought  his  fanuly  to  shame.  No  town 
accepted  an  artisan  for  its  alcalde ;  tiie  Cortes  of  Arragon, 
says  Marina,  never  admitted  to  their  assembly  a  deputy  who 
came  from  the  industrial  class.  You  would  think  you  were 
reading  Aristotle  and  Cicero  when  you  find  in  the  writers,  and 
even  in  tiie  laws  of  Sp^,  those  haughty  expressions  of  con- 
tempt for  the  men  who  bow  their  faces  towards  the  earth,  and 
stoop  to  smite  the  anvil,  or  tend  a  loom." 


280     Character  of  Mr.  PrescoU  as  an  Huterian.     [March, 

Mr.  Prescott  does  not  notice  the  Condition  of  the  People, 
I  expept  in  terms  the  most  general  and  vague.  Tet  great  changes 
I  were  taking  place  at  that  time  in  the  condition  of  the  laboring 
class.  He  does  not  even  tell  us  what,  relation  the  peasantry 
'  bore  to  the  soil ;  how  they  held  it,  by  what  tenure ;  for  what 
time ;  what  relation  they  bore  to  the  nobles  and  the  knights.  In 
CastUe  Mr.  Hallam  says  there  was  no  villanage.  Mr.  Prescott 
gives  us  no  explanation  of  the  fact,  and  does  not  mention  the 
Skct  itself.  In  Catalonia  a  portion  of  the  peasantry  passed  out 
of  the  condition  of  vassalage,  —  Mariana  calls  them  Pageses, 
others  Vassals  de  Bemenza, —  to  that  of  conditional  freedom, 
by  paying  an  annual  tax  to  tiieir  former  owner,  or  to  entire 
freedom  by  the  payment  of  a  sum  twenty  times  as  large.  This 
was  an  important  event  in  the  civil  history  of  Spain.  Mr. 
Prescott  barely  relates  the  fiawt.  From  other  sources  we  have 
learned,  we  know  not  how  truly,  that  no  artisan  was  allowed 
in  the  Cortes  of  Arragon,  that  only  nobles  were  eligible  to 
certain  offices  there,  and  no  nobles  were  taxed. 

In  all  this  History  there  are  no  pictures  from  the  lives 
lof  the  humble, — yet  a  glimpse  into  the  cottage  of  a  peas- 
lant,  or  even  at  the  beggary  of  Spain  in  the  fifteenth  cen- 
[tury,  would  be  instructive,  and  help  a  stranger  to  under- 
stand the  nation.  Much  is  siud,  indeed,  of  the  wealthier 
class,  of  the  nobles,  and  of  the  clergy,  but  we  find  it  impossi- 
ble from  this  History  alone  to  form  a  complete  idea  of  tiieir 
position  in  the  kingdom ;  of  their  relation  to  one  another,  to 
the  People,  or  the  crown ;  of  the  number  of  tiie  clergy,  of 
their  education,  their  character,  their  connection  with  the  no- 
bles or  the  people,  of  their  general  influence  —  he  has  nothing 
to  tell  us.  He  pays  littie  regard  to  the  progress  of  society ; 
to  advances  made  in  the  comforts  of  life,  in  the  means  of  jour- 
neying from  place  to  place.  Now  and  then  it  is  said  that  the 
roads  were  in  bad  order,  and  so  a  march  was  delayed  ;  even 
at  this  day  the  means  of  internal  communication  are  so  poor, 
the  roads  so  few  and  impracticable,  that  some  provinces  lie  in 
a  state  of  almost  entire  isolation.  Says  M.  Blanqui,  '^  More 
than  one  province  of  Spain  could  be  mentioned  which  is  more 
inaccessible  than  the  greater  part  of  our  most  advanced  posi- 
tions in  Africa."  ^'  Castile  and  Catalonia  differ  as  much  as 
Russia  and  Germany,  and  tiie  inhabitants  of  Gallicia  do  not 
undertake  the  journey  to  Andalusia  so  often  as  the  French 
that  to  Constantinople." 

A  philosophical  inquirer  wants  information  on  all  these  sub- 


1849.]     Character  of  Mr.  Pre$eaU  a$  an  Butorian.       281 

jectSy  and  the  general  reader  has  no  anthoritj  but  histories  like 
this.  It  cannot  be  said  that  Mr.  Prescott  feared  to  encumber 
his  work  with  such  details,  and  make  his  volumes  too  numerous 
or  big.  He  has  space  to  spare  for  frivolous  details ;  he  can 
describe  the  pageant  afforded  by  the  royal  pair  in  the  camp 
before  Moclin,  in  1486 ;  can  tell  us  that  '^  the  queen  herseUT 
rode  a  chestnut  mule,  seated  on  a  saddle  chair  embossed  with 
gold  and  silver  ; "  that  "  the  housings  were  of  a  crimson  col- 
or, and  the  bridles  of  satin  were  curiously  wrought  with  let- 
ters of  gold ; "  iliat  "  the  Infanta  wore  a  skirt  of  fine  velvet 
over  others  of  brocade;  a  scarlet  mantilla  of  the  Moorish 
fashion,  and  a  black  hat  trimmed  with  gold  embroidery,"  and 
that  the  king  ^'  was  dressed  in  a  crimson  doublet  with  chausses 
or  breeches  of  yellow  satin.  Over  his  shoulders  was  thrown 
a  cassock  or  mantilla  of  rich  brocade,  and  a  sopra  vest  of  the 
same  material  concealed  his  cuirass.  By  his  side,  close  girt, 
he  wore  a  Moorish  scymitar,  and  beneath  his  bonnet  his  h^ 
was  confined  by  a  cap  or  headdress  of  the  finest  stuff.  Fer- 
dinand was  mounted  on  a  noble  war-horse  of  a  bright  chestnut 
color."     (Part  I.,  Ch.  xi.,  p.  401,  et  seq.) 

The  account  of  the  Inquisition  is  eminently  unsatisfactory. 
No  adequate  motive  is  assigned  for  it,  no  sufficient  cause.  It  I 
stands  in  this  book  as  a  thmg  with  consequences  enough,  and  | 
bad  enough,  but  no  cause  ;  you  know  not  why  it  came.  Mr. 
Prescott  treats  Catholicism  fairly.  We  do  not  remember  a  line 
in  these  volumes  which  seems  dictated  by  anti-Catholic  bigotry. 
He  has  no  sympathy  with  the  Inquisition  ;  he  looks  on  it  with 
manly  aversion ;  but  he  treats  the  subject  with  little  ability, 
not  showing  how  subtly  the  Inquisition  worked,  undermining 
tiie  Church  and  the  State,  and  corrupting  life  in  its  most 
sacred  sources.  Who  made  the  Inquisition ;  for  what  purpose 
was  its  machinery  set  a-going ;  what  effect  did  it  have  on  the 
whole  nation  ? — these  are  questions  which  it  was  Mr.  Pres- 
cott's  business  to  answer,  but  which,  as  we  think,  he  has  failed 
to  answer.  Whosoever  brought  it  to  pass,  there  is  little  doubt 
but  it  gained  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  the  title  of  Catholic. 
But  our  historian  does  not  like  to  lay  the  blame  on  them ; 
they  are  the  heroes  of  his  story.  Ferdinand  may  indeed  be 
blamed,  —  it  were  difficult  in  this  century  to  write  and  not 
blame  him ;  but  Isabella  must  not  be  censured  for  this  —  her 
heroism  is  to  be  spotless.  The  Spirit  of  Chivalry  in  our  author 
is  too  strong  for  the  Spirit  of  Humanity.   He  thinks  Ferdinand 


232     Chmraeter  of  Mr.  PreseoU  a$  an  EUtorian.    [March, 

may  have  had  poGtical  motives  for  establishine  the  Inquisition, 
bat  Isabella  only  religions  motives  for  its  establishment  m  Gas- 
tile.  (Part  I.,  Ch.  vn.,  p:  246.)  Certainly  there  was  a  great 
blame  somewhere  :  it  falls  not  on  the  People,  who  had  neither 
the  ability  nor  the  will  to  establish  it ;  nor  on  the  Aristocracy 
of  nobles  and  rich  men,  —  they  had  much  to  lose,  and  little 
to  gain ;  it  was  always  hateful  to  them.  The  Priests,  no 
doubt,  were  in  fiivor  of  the  Inquisition,  but  they  corjd  not 
have  introduced  it;  nay,  could  have  had  little  influence  in 
bringing  it  about  if  the  crown  had  opposed  it.  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella  were  no  slaves  to  the  priesthood ;  they  knew 
how  to  favor  the  interests  of  the  Church  when  it  served  their 
turn ;  but  no  forehead  was  more  brazen,  no  hand  more  hron 
than  theirs,  to  confront  and  put  down  any  insolence  of  sacer- 
dotal power.  Isabella  did  not  favor  the  old  Archbishop  of 
Toledo ;  she  abridged  the  power  of  the  priests ;  nay,  that  of 
the  Pope,  and  easily  seized  from  him  what  other  monarchs  had 
long  clutched  at  in  vain.  She  allowed  no  appeals  to  him. 
(Part  I.,  Ch.  xn.,  p.  4 ;  Ch.  xv.,  p.  84.  Part  IL,  Ch.  xxvi., 
pp.  485,  436,  437.)  The  Pragmaticas  of  Isabella  tended  to 
restrict  the  power  of  the  clergy  and  of  the  Pope  within  nar- 
rower limits  than  before.  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  are  the 
very  parties  to  be  blamed  for  the  Inquisition :  if  so  enlightened 
above  their  age,  the  more  to  be  blamed ;  if  cool-headed  and 
far-sighted,  they  deserve  more  reproach  ;  if  Isabella  were  so 
religious  as  it  is  contended,  then  the  severest  censure  is  to  be 
pronounced  against  her.  It  was  only  thirty-six  years  be- 
fore the  Reformation  that  she  introduced  the  Inquisition  to 
Castile.  It  is  idle  to  lay  the  blame  on  Torquemada  (Part  I., 
Ch.  viT.,  p.  247,  et  al.)  ;  we  profess  no  great  veneration  for 
this  genuine  son  of  Saint  Dominic,  but  let  him  answer  for  his 
own  sins,  not  his  master's.  We  cannot  but  think  history  is 
unjust  in  painting  Isabella  so  soft  and  fwr,  while  her  Inquisi- 
tor-General is  portrayed  in  the  blackest  colors,  and  she,  with 
all  her  intelligence,  charity,  and  piety,  puts  the  necks  of  the 
people  into  his  remorseless  hands.  Ferdinand  and  Isabella 
were  not  fools,  to  be  deluded  by  a  priest,  however  cunning. 
It  seems  to  us  that  the  Inquisition  must  be  set  down  to  their 
account,  and  should  cover  them  both  with  shame ;  that  as 
James  the  Second  is  to  be  blamed  for  Jeffries  and  the  bloody 
assis;es,  so  are  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  for  Torquemada  and  the 
Inquisition.  Mr.  Prescott  admits  the  most  obvious  and  perni- 
cious cnielties  thereof,  but  has  not  the  heart  to  trace  the  evil 


1849.]     Character  of  Mr.  Pre%eoU  as  an  Siitorian.       283 

to  its  floorce.  It  is  the  fashion  of  certain  writers  to  dwell  with 
delight  on  every  fault  committed  by  the  masses  of  men.  What 
eloquent  denunciation  have.we  heard  on  the  "  horrid  crimes  of 
the  old  French  Revolution '' :  "  horrid  crimes  "  they  were,  and 
let  them  be  denounced ;  but  when  the  writers  come  to  butcher- 
ies done  by  the  masters  of  mankind,  they  have  no  voice  to  de- 
nounce such  atrocities.  Yet  both  equally  proceed  from  the 
same  maxim  —  that  Might  is  Right.  Uorente  may  be  wrong 
in  the  numbers  who  suffered  by  the  Inquisition ;  perhaps  there 
were  not  13,000  burned  alive  at  the  stake,  and  191,143  who 
suffered  other  tortures.  Suppose  there  were  but  half  that 
number — nay,  a  tenth  part ;  still  it  is  enough  to  cover  any 
monarch  m  Europe,  since  the  twelfth  century,  with  shame. 
Grant  that  Torquemada  projected  the  scheme ;  the  fact  that 
Isabella  allowed  it  to  be  executed  shows  that  she  was  of  soul 
akin  to  her  infamous  ancestor,  Peter  the  Gruel,  and  deserves 
the  sharp  censure  of  every  just  historian. 

We  come  next  to  speak  of  the  Moors  and  Jews.  At  the 
time  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  there  were  in  Spain  two  dis- 
tmct  tribes  of  men.  On  the  one  side  were  the  descendants 
of  the  Visigoths,  one  of  the  new  nations  who  had  appeared  in 
history  not  many  centuries  before,  and  united  with  the  exist- 
ing population  of  Spsdn,  as  the  Romans  had  formerly  imited 
with  the  settlers  they  found  there ;  on  the  other  side  were  two 
nations,  descended,  as  it  is  said,  from  Abram,  the  mytholog- 
ical ancestor  of  numerous  tribes  of  Asia,  the  Moors  and  the 
Jews.  Both  of  these  nations  had  been  for  centuries  distin- 
guished for  their  civilization ;  they  had  long  dwelt  on  the  same 
soil  with  the  Spaniards,  and  if  we  may  believe  the  tale,  few 
families  of  the  Spanish  nobility  were  quite  free  from  all  Moor- 
ish or  all  Hebrew  taint.  A  philosophical  Historian  would  find 
an  attractive  theme  in  the  meeting  of  nations  so  diverse  in 
origin,  language,  manners,  and  religion,  as  the  sons  of  the 
East  and  the  West.  It  would  be  curious  to  trace  the  effects 
of  their  union ;  to  learn  what  the  Hebrews  and  the  Moors  had 
brought  to  Spain  and  what  they  established  there  ;  how  much 
had  been  gained  by  this  mingling  of  races,  which,  as  some 
think,  is  a  perpetual  condition  of  national  progress.  The  Jews 
were  not  barbarians  —  they  are  commonly  superior  to  the 
class  they  mingle  with  in  all  countries.  The  Moors  were 
amongst  the  most  enlightened  nations  of  Europe :  they  had 
done  much  to  promote  the  common  industrial  arts,  the  higher 

NO.   VI.  16 


234     Character  of  Mr.  Prescott  as  an  Sistorian.     [Afarch, 

arts  of  beauty ;  they  had  practised  agricultnre  and  the  me- 
chanic arts  with  skill  and  science,  for,  unlike  the  Spaniards, 
they  were  not  ashamed  of  work ;  they  had  fostered  science 
and  letters ;  on  their  hearth  had  kept  the  sacred  fire  snatched 
from  the  altar  of  the  Muses  before  their  temple  went  to  the 
ground,  and  still  fed  and  watched  its  flame,  m  some  ages  al- 
most alone  the  guardians  of  that  vestal  fire.  The  English 
reader  familiar  with  Gibbon's  account  of  the  Arabian  race, — 
a  chapter  not  without  its  faults,  but  which  even  now  must  still 
be  called  masterly, — looks  for  something  not  inferior  in  this 
history,  where  the  occasion  equally  demands  it.  But  he  looks 
in  vain.  The  chapter  which  treats  of  the  Spanish  Arabs, 
(Part  I.,  Ch.  vm.,)  though  not  without  merit,  is  hardly  wor- 
ttiy  of  a  place  in  a  history  written  in  this  age  of  the  world. 

After  the  two  chief  monarchies  of  Spain  were  practically 
united  into  one,  it  was  not  to  be  expected  that  the  Catholic 
sovereigns  would  allow  so  fair  a  portion  of  the  peninsula  to 
remain  in  the  hands  of  the  Moors.  They  had  only  been  there 
on  sufferance,  and  seem  never  to  have  recovered  from  their 
terrible  defeat  in  1210.  Spanish  sovereigns,  with  the  spirit  of 
that  age,  would  wish  to  subdue  the  Moors  —  Christians,  the 
"  Infidels  "  ;  and  when  such  feelings  exist  an  occasion  for  war 
is  not  long  to  seek.  The  conquest  of  a  rich  kingdom  like 
that  of  Granada,  with  a  high  civilization,  is  an  afiair  of  much 
importance ;  the  expulsion  of  a  whole  people,  in  modern  times, 
though  still  meditated  by  men  whom  the  chances  of  an  elec- 
tion bring  to  the  top  of  society  in  Republican  America,  is  an 
unusual  thing,  and  in  this  case  it  was  barbarous  not  less  than 
unusual. 

Mr.  Prescott  does  justice  to  the  industry,  intelligence,  skill, 
and  general  civilization  of  the  Moors ;  while  he  points  out 
defects  and  blemishes  in  their  institutions  with  no  undue 
severity,  he  has  yet  just  and  beautiful  things  to  say  of  them. 
But  he  glozes  over  the  injustice  shown  towards  them,  and 
averts  the  sympathy  of  the  reader  for  the  suffering  nation  by 
the  remark,  that  "  they  had  long  since  reached  their  utmost 
limit  of  advancement  as  a  people  ; "  "  that  during  the  latter 
period  of  their  existence,  they  appear  to  have  reposed  in  a 
state  of  torpid  and  luxurious  indulgence,  which  would  seem  to 
argue  that  when  causes  of  external  excitement  were  withdrawn, 
the  inherent  vices  of  their  social  institutions  had  incapacitated 
them  from  the  further  production  of  excellence."  Then  he 
puts  the  blame — if  blame  there  be  —  on  Providence,  and 


1849.]     Oharaeter  of  JIfr.  Prescott  as  an  Historian,       286 

says,  "  In  this  impotent  condition,  it  was  wisely  ordered  that 
their  territory  should  be  occujned  by  a  people  whose  religion 
and  more  liberal  form  6f  government  .  .  .  qualified  them 
for  advancing  still  higher  the  interests  of  humanitv."  (Part 
I.,  Ch.  XV.,  p.  105,  et  seq.)  Mr.  Prescott  elsewhere  speaks 
with  manly  and  becoming  indignation  of  the  conduct  of 
Ximenes,  who  burnt  the  elegant  libraries  of  the  Moors ;  yet 
he  has  not  censure  enough,  it  seems  to  us,  for  the  barbarous 
edict  which  drove  the  Moors  into  hypocrisy  or  exile. 

The  expulsion  of  the  Jews  is  treated  of  in  the  same  spirit : 
the  blame  is  Isdd  in  part  on  the  Priests,  on  Torquemada,  and 
in  part  on  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Both  were  bad  enough,  no 
doubt,  but  if  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  as  represented,  were 
before  their  age  in  statesmanship,  and  the  latter  far  in  ad- 
vance of  its  religion,  we  see  not  how  they  can  be  shielded 
from  blame.  It  is  the  duty  of  an  Historian  to  measure  men 
by  the  general  standard  of  Sieir  times, — certainly  we  are  not 
to  expect  the  morals  of  the  nineteenth  century  from  one  who 
lived  in  the  ninth  ;  but  it  is  also  the  Historian's  duty  to  criti- 
cize that  spirit,  and  when  a  superior  man  rises,  he  must  not 
be  judged  merely  by  the  low  standard  of  his  age,  but  the  abso- 
lute standard  of  all  ages.  Such  a  judgment  we  seldom  find  ^ 
in  this  work.  Many  acts  of  these  princes  show  that  they  were 
shortsighted.  Allowing  Isabella's  zeal  for  the  Church,  which 
is  abundantly  proved,  it  must  yet  be  confessed  that  she  pos- 
sessed its  worst  qualities  —  Bigotry,  Intolerance,  and  Cruelty 

—  in  what  might  be  called  the  heroic  degroe.  Ferdinand 
carod  little  for  any  interest  but  his  own.  We  doubt,  after  all, 
if  it  was  love  of  the  Church  which  expelled  the  Moors  and  the 
Jews,  and  think  it  was  a  love  yet  more  vulgar  ;  namely,  the 
love  of  plunder.  He  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  who  declared 
that  uncounted  numbers  of  Jews  wero  richer  than  Christians 

—  innumeri  {Judceorurn]  Christianis  ditiores.  The  Jews 
displayed  their  usual  firmness  in  refusing  to  protend  to  be 
converted,  but  their  rosolution  to  adhero  to  the  fidth  of  their 
fathers  and  their  conscience  meets  with  but  scanty  praise  from 
our  author,  living  under  institutions  formed  by  religious  exiles, 
though  he  calls  it  "  an  extraordinary  act  of  self-devotion." 

Mr.  Prescott's  defence  of  Isabella  does  little  honor  to  his 
head  or  heart,  but  is  in  harmony  with  the  general  tone  of  the 
history.  The  Catholic  sovereign  thus  struck  a  deadly  blow  at 
the  industry  of  the  nation.  The  Moors  had  almost  created 
agricult\ire  in  Spain ;  they  had  founded  the  most  important 


286     Character  of  Mr.  Pre$catt  ob  an  JBiitoriaR.     [March, 

manufactures — that  of  dlk,  wool,  leather,  and  of  tempered 
steel.  Thej  were  mgenious  mechanics  and  excellent  artists. 
Since  that  time  foreigners  have  braved  the  national  prejudice 
against  manual  work.  It  was  the  Flemish  and  the  Italians 
who  reestablished  the  manufacture  of  tapestry,  of  woollen 
goods,  and  of  work  in  wood ;  and  more  recently  the  English 
and  French  have  engaged  there  m  the  manu&cture  of  Imen, 
cotton,  and  mixed  goods.  In  the  time  of  Louis  XIY.,  more 
than  seventy-five  thousand  Frenchmen  had  gone  to  settle  in 
Spain. 

Mr.  Prescott's  account  of  the  Literature  of  Spain  has 
been  much  admired,  not  wholly  without  reason.  The  chapters 
(Part  L,  Ch.  xix.  and  xx.,)  which  treat  of  the  Castilian  litera- 
ture were  certainly  needed  for  the  completeness  of  the  work. 
Every  body  knows  how  much  Mr.  Schlosser  adds  to  the  value 
of  his  Histories,  by  his  laborious  examination  of  the  literature, 
science,  and  art  of  the  nations  he  describes.  To  know  a  na- 
tion's deeds,  we  must  understand  its  thoughts.  "  It  will  be 
necessary,"  says  Mr.  Prescott,  "in  order  to  complete  the 
view  of  the  internal  administration  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella, 
to  show  its  operation  on  the  intellectual  culture  of  the  nation. 
.  •  .  It  is  particularly  deserving  of  note  in  the  present 
reign,  which  stimulated  the  active  development  of  the  na- 
tional energies  in  every  department  of  science,  and  which 
forms  a  leading  epoch  in  the  ornamental  literature  of  the 
country.  The  present  and  following  chapter  will  embrace  the 
mental  progress  of  the  kingdom,  .  .  .  through  tiie  whole 
of  Isabella's  reign,  in  order  to  exhibit  as  far  as  possible  its 
entire  results."     (Part  I.,  Ch.  xix.,  p.  184,  et  seq.) 

The  education  of  Isabella  was  neglected  in  her  youth,  and, 
at  a  mature  age,  she  undertook  to  supply  her  defects,  and 
studied  with  such  success,  says  one  of  her  contemporaries, 
that  "  in  less  than  a  year  her  admirable  genius  enabled  her  to 
obtain  so  good  a  knowledge  of  the  Latin  tongue  that  she  could 
understana  without  much  difficulty  what  was  written  or  spoken 
in  it."  She  took  pains  with  the  education  of  her  own  chil- 
dren, and  those  of  the  nobility.  She  invited  Peter  Martyr 
and  Marinaeo  Siculo  to  aid  in  educating  the  nobility,  which 
ihcy  readily  did.  Mr.  Prescott  mentions  the  names  of  sev- 
eral noblemen  who  engaged  zealously  in  the  pursuit  of  let- 
ters. "No  Spaniard,"  says  Giovio,  "was  accounted  noble 
who  held  science  in  indifference."    Men  of  distinguished  birth 


1849.]     Charaeter  of  Mr.  Freseatt  <u  cm  HUtorian.       287 

were  eager,  we  are  told,  to  lead  the  way  in  Science.  Lords, 
also,  of  illustrious  rank,  lent  their  influence  to  the  cause  of 
good  letters :  one  ladjr,  called  La  Latina,  instructed  the  Queen 
in  the  Roman  tongue ;  another  lectured  on  the  Latin  classics, 
at  Salamanca,  and  a  third  on  Rhetoric,  at  Alcala.  Yet,  spite 
of  all  this  rojal  zeal,  this  feminine  and  noble  attention  to 
letters,  Mr.  Prescott  confesses  that  little  progress  was  made 
in  the  poetic  art  since  the  beginning  of  tiie  century.  One 
cause  thereof  he  finds  in  the  rudeness  of  the  language,  which 
certainly  had  not  become  more  rude  during  the  progress  of 
so  much  Latmity  and  Rhetoric ;  —  and  another  "  in  the  direc- 
tion to  utility  manifested  in  this  active  reign,  which  led  such 
as  had  leisure  for  intellectual  pursuits  to  cultivate  science 
rather  than  abandon  themselves  to  the  mere  revels  of  the 
imagination."     (p.  229.) 

Let  us  look  at  this  subject  a  little  more  in  detail,  and  see 
what  opportunities  Spain  had  for  intellectual  culture,  what  use 
she  made  of  them,  what  results  were  obtained,  and  how  Mr. 
Prescott  has  described  "  the  mental  progress  of  the  nation." 

The  Arabians,  as  we  have  twice  said  before,  were  for  some 
time  the  most  enlightened  nation  in  the  world ;  they  culti- 
vated arts,  the  useful  and  the  elegant,  with  singular  success ; 
they  diligently  studied  Physics  and  Metaphysics;  they  pur- 
sued Literature,  and  have  left  behmd  them  numerous  proofe  of 
their  zeal,  if  not  of  theii  genius.  There  was  a  time  when  the 
great  classic  masters  of  Science  were  almost  forgotten  by  the 
Christians,  but  carefully  studied  and  held  in  honor  by  the  dis- 
ciples of  Mahomet.  Men  of  other  nations  sought  instruction  in 
their  schools,  or  sat  at  the  feet  of  their  sages,  or  studied  and 
translated  their  works.  By  means  of  their  vicinity  to  the 
Moorish  Arabs,  the  Spaniards  had  an  excellent  opportunity  to 
cultivate  science  and  letters,  but  they  made  little  use  of  those 
advantages.  Robert  and  Daniel  Morley,  Campano,  Athelhard, 
Cferbert  of  Aurillac,  (afterwards  Sylvester  II.,)  and  others, 
earned  from  the  Arabian  masters  ;  but  there  were  few  or  no 
Spaniards  of  any  eminence  who  took  pains  to  study  the  thought 
of  their  Mahometan  neighbours. 

It  seems  to  us  that  Mr.  Prescott  a  good  deal  overrates  the 
literary  tendency  of  the  Spaniards  under  Ferdinand  and  Isa- 
bella. It  is  true,  at  that  time  a  great  movement  of  thought 
went  on  in  the  rest  of  Europe.  The  capture  of  Gonstalitino- 
ple  drove  the  Greek  scholars  from  their  ancient  home ;  the 
printing-press  diffused  the  Scriptures,  the  ancient  laws,  the  old 


288     Cbaraetm' qf  Mr.  Pr€%eM  M  cm  Bi^torimi.     [March, 

classics,  spreading  new  iliought  rapidly  and  wide.  literature 
and  Philosophy  were  studied  with  great  vigor.  This  new 
movement  appeared  in  Italy,  in  Switzerland,  in  Germany, 
and  France  —  even  in  England.  But  in  Spain  we  find  few 
and  inconsiderable  traces  thereof.  Mr.  Prescott  cites  Eras- 
mus for  the  fact  that  ^Miberal  studies  were  brought  m  the 
course  of  a  few  years,  in  Spcdn,  to  so  flourishing  a  condition, 
as  might  not  onlv  excite  the.  admiration  but  serve  as  a  model 
to  the  most  cultivated  nations  of  Europe."  (p.  202.)  But 
it  deserves  to  be  remembered  that  Entsmus  made  this  state- 
ment in  a  letter  to  a  Spanish  professor  at  the  University  of 
Alcala,  and  besides,  founds  his  praise  on  the  reli^on  as  much 
as  on  the  learning  of  the  country.  In  a  former  letter  he  had 
sud  that  the  study  of  literature  had  been  neglected  in  Ger- 
many to  such  a  degree  that  men  would  not  take  learning  if 
offered  them  for  nothing,  —  "  nobodv  was  willing  to  hear  the 
professors  who  were  supported  at  the  public  charge."  But 
elsewhere  Erasmus  knows  how  to  say  that  in  Germany  their 
^^  schools  of  learning  were  numerous  as  the  towns."  But  this 
is  of  small  importance. 

It  is  certam  that  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  did  scnnething  to 
promote  the  literary  culture  of  their  people ;  yet  it  had  not 
been  wholly  neglected  before  the  University  of  Huesca  (Osca) 
was  certainly  old.  Plutarch,  in  his  Life  of  Sertorius,  informs 
us  that  the  Roman  general  founded  a*8chool  there,  and  some 
one  says  that  Pontius  Pilate  was  a  "  Prcrfessor  Juris  "  —  utri- 
usque  juris,  we  suppose  —  on  that  foundation ;  Spaniards  may 
believe  the  story.  The  University  of  Seville  was  founded  in 
>  990 ;  that  of  Valencia  in  1200,  or  about  that  time ;  that  of 
Salamanca  in  1289,  —  though  some  place  it  earlier  and  some 
much  later ;  universities  had  been  founded  at  Lerida  and  Vat 
ladolid  in  the  fourteenth  century.  Tlds  statement  may  read 
well  on  paper,  but  it  is  plain  that  universities  had  done  little 
to  enlighten  the  nation,  —  otherwise  Cardinal  Ximenes  had 
never  celebrated  that  auto  da  fe  with  the  Arabian  libraries. 

Queen  Isabella,  we  are  told,  encouraged  the  introducticm  of 
printing  into  Spain,  and  caused  many  of  the  worics  of  her  own 
subjectB  to  be  printed  at  her  own  charge ;  that  she  exempted 
a  German  printer  from  taxation,  and  allowed  foreign  books 
to  be  imported  free  of  duty.  But  more  than  twenty  years 
elapsed  after  the  discovery  of  the  art  before  we  hear  of  a 
single  printing-press  in  the  kingdom ;  and  during  the  whole 
of  the  fifteenth  century  we  cannot  find  that  four  hundred 


1849.]     ChmracUr  of  Mr.  Prt&eott  as  m  EUtorim.      389 

editions  were  printed  in  all  Spain,  while  daring  that  period 
the  press  of  Florence  had  sent  forth  five  hundred  and  fifty- 
three,  that  of  Mian  six  hundred  and  eighty-three,  that  of 
Paris  seven  hundred  and  fifty-seven,  Rome  nine  hundred  and 
fifty-three,  Venice  three  thousand  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
seven.  The  little  city  of  Strasburg  alone  had  published  more 
than  the  whole  kin^om  of  Spain.  About  fifteen  thousand 
editions  were  printed  in  the  last  thirty  years  of  that  century. 
The  character  of  the  works  printed  in  Spain  is  significant ;  — 
first  of  all  comes  a  collection  of  songs  in  honor  of  the  Virgin, 
setting  forth  the  miraculous  conception.  It  is  true,  a  transla- 
tion of  the  Bible  into  the  Limousin  dialect  was  printed  at  Va- 
lencia in  1478,  but  during  the  fifteentii  century  we  do  not 
find  that  a  single  edition  of  the  Vulgate,  or  of  the  Civil  Law 
was  printed  in  all  Spidn,  though  no  less  than  ninety-eight 
editions  of  tiie  Latin  Bible  came  forth  from  the  presses  of 
Europe. 

Mr.  Prescott  professes  to  describe  the  mental  progress  of 
the  nation.  To  accomplish  this,  the  Historian  must  tell  us 
the  result  of  what  was  done  in  Law — in  the  study  of  the 
Roman,  the  National,  and  the  Canon  Law,  for  all  three  have 
been  important  elements  in  the  development  of  the  Spaniel 
nation  ;  what  was  done  in  Physics ;  in  Metaphysics,  including 
Ethics  and  Theology ;  and  in  General  Literature.  Now  Mr. 
Prescott,  in  this  examination,  passes  entirely  over  the  first 
three  departments,  and  bestows  his  labor  wholly  upon  the  last. 
It  is  true,  he  treats  of  the  alteration  of  the  laws  in  his  last 
chapter,  but  in  a  brief  and  unsatisfactory  style.  Yet  he  had 
before  told  us  that  the  attention  of  studious  men  was  directed 
to  Science,  and  it  is  elsewhere  asserted  that  much  was  done  in 
this  reign  for  the  reformation  and  codification  of  the  Laws.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  the  mere  reader  and  highly  important 
to  the  philosophical  student  who  wishes  to  understand  the 
mental  progress  of  Spain,  to  know  how  much  the  Roman  Law 
was  studied ;  how  much  the  Canon  Law,  and  what  modifica- 
tions were  made  thereby  in  the  national  institutions  them- 
selves—  by  whom,  and  with  what  effect.  Afler  all  that  has 
been  written  of  late  years,  it  would  not  be  difficult,  certainly 
not  impossible,  to  do  this.  The  publication  of  La%  Siete  Par- 
tidas  for  Hie  first  time  in  1491,  twenty  years  after  the  acces- 
sion of  Isabella  to  the  tiirone,  was  an  important  event ;  the 
legal  labors  of  Alfonso  de  Montalvo  deserved  some  notice ;  tiie 
celebrated  Omfolato  del  Mare,  which  has  had  so  important  an 


240     Character  of  Mr.  Pre$eott  a$  an  SUtorian.     [March, 

inflaeDce  on  the  maritime  laws  of  Europe  and  America,  and 
first  got  printed  during  this  reign,  certainly  required  some 
notice,  even  m  a  brief  sketch  of  the  intellec;tual  history  of 
that  reign.  In  all  Catholic  countries  the  study  of  the  Canon 
Law  is  of  great  importance,  but  during  the  fifteenth  century, 
though  more  than  forty  editions  thereof  got  printed  m  other 
parts  of  Europe,  we  do  not  find  one  in  Spain. 

In  Science,  including  the  Mathematics  and  all  departsnents 
of  Physics,  the  Spanish  did  little.  Yet  circumstances  were 
uncommonly  favorable  :  the  conquest  of  Granada  put  them  in 
possession  of  the  libraries  of  the  Moors,  which  were  destined 
only  to  the  flames ;  under  the  guidance  of  Columbus,  they 
discovered  new  lands  and  had  ample  opportunities  to  study  the 
Geography,  Zoology,  and  Botany  of  countries  so  inviting  to 
the  naturalist.  But  nothing  was  done.  It  is  true,  Andres, 
with  his  national  prejudices,  undertaken  to  mention  some 
names  that  are  illustrious  in  Medicine  —  but  Piquer  and  Lam- 
pillas,  Monardes,  Cristoforo  da  Costa,  Laguna,  ^^  the  Spanish 
Galen,"  and  the  rest  that  he  mentions,  may  be  celebrated 
throughout  all  Spain  and  even  in  La  Mancha :  we  think  they 
are  but  little  known  elsewhere.  In  the  departments  of  Geog- 
raphy and  Astronomy  the  Spanish  accomplished  nothing  wor- 
thy of  mention. 

In  Metaphysics  and  Ethics  there  are  no  Spanish  names 
before  the  sixteenth  century — few  even  then;  Scholastic 
Philosophy,  which  once  prevailed  so  widely  in  the  West  of 
Europe,  seems  not  to  have  found  a  footing  in  the  Peninsula. 
In  the  tenth  century  Gerbert  went  to  Spain  to  learn  Philos- 
ophy of  the  Arabs ;  in  the  eleventh,  Constantinus  A&icanus 
communicated  its  doctrines  to  the  world ;  in  the  twelfth  and 
thirteenth,  Athelhard  of  Bath,  called  Athelhard  the  Goth, 
Gherard,  Otho  of  Frisingen,  Michael  Scott,  and  others,  filled 
Europe  with  translations  of  Arabian  authors.  But  Spain  did 
nothing. 

In  Theology  the  Spaniards  have  but  one  work  to  show  of 
any  note,  which  dates  from  the  period  in  question.  The 
Complutensian  Polyglot  was  a  great  work ;  but  to  achieve 
that  nothing  was  needed  but  great  wealth  and  the  labors  of  a 
few  learned  and  diligent  men.  The  wealth  was  abundant, 
and  flowed  at  the  Casual's  command ;  the  treasures  of  tlie 
Vatican  and  of  all  the  libraries  of  Europe  were  freely  offered ; 
the  manuscripts  of  the  Jews  in  Spain  were  at  Ximenes'  com- 
mand ;  the  services  of  accomplished  scholars  could  easily  be 


1849.]     Character  of  Mr.  Preeeatt  as  an  Ei^arian.       241 

bou^t.  Learned  Greeks  there  were  in  the  South  of  Europe, 
seelong  for  bread.  Of  the  nine  men  who  were  engaged  in 
ttus  undertaking,  one  was  a  Ghreek  and  three  were  Jews  —  of 
course  converted  Jews.  Artists  came  from  Germany  to  cast 
the  types  for  the  printing.  Mr.  Prescott  exaggerates  the 
difficulty  of  the  undertaking :  the  scholars  could  be  •  had,  the 
manuscripts  borrowed  or  bought ;  indeed,  so  poorly  was  the 
matter  conducted,  that  some  manuscripts,  purchased  at  great 
cost,  came  too  late  for  use.  Mr.  Prescott  says,  ^^  There  were 
no  types  in  Spain,  if  indeed  in  any  part  of  Europe,  in  the 
Oriental  character,''  but  only  three  alphabets  were  needed  in 
the  Polyglot — the  Roman,  the  Greek,  and  the  Hebrew.  The 
two  first  were  common  enough,  even  in  Spsdn ;  and  in  various 
parts  of  Europe,  before  the  end  of  the  fifteenth  century,  no 
less  than  thirty-nine  editions  had  been  printed  of  the  whole  or 
a  part  of  the  Hebrew  Bible.  The  CompluUmian  Polyglot 
is  indeed  a  valuable  work,  but  at  this  day  few  men  will  contend 
that  in  the  Old  Testament  it  has  a  text  better  than  the  edition 
at  Soncino,  or  that  the  Complutensian  New  Testament  is  better 
than  that  of  Erasmus.  Indeed,  we  hazard  nothing  in  saying 
that  Erasmus,  a  single  scholar  and  a  private  man,  often  in 
want  of  money,  did  more  to  promote  the  study  of  the  Scrip- 
tures and  the  revival  of  letters  than  Cardinal  Ximenes  and  idl 
Spain  put  together,  —  and  never  burnt  up  a  library  of  manu- 
scripts because  they  were  not  orthodox. 

All  these  matters,  except  the  Polyglot,  Mr.  Prescott  passes 
over  with  few  words,  in  his  sketch  of  the  mental  progress  of 
Spam  in  her  golden  age.  While  France,  Germany,  Italy,  and 
England  made  rapid  strides  in  their  mental  progress,  Spain 
did  littie  —  little  in  Law,  littie  in  Science,  in  Theology  little. 
But  Mr.  Prescott  writes  in  a  pleasing  style  about  another  por- 
tion of  the  Literature  of  Spain,  which  is,  after  all,  her  most 
characteristic  production  in  letters  —  her  Ballads  and  the 
Drama.  The  Medondilla  is  the  most  distinctive  production  of 
the  Spanish  muse.  The  Ballads  of  Spain  are  unlike  those  of 
England,  of  Scotland,  and  of  Germany,  in  many  respects,  yet 
bear  the  same  relation  to  the  genius  of  the  people.  They 
grew  up  in  the  wild  soil  of  the  Peninsula ;  no  royal  or  eccle- 
siastical hand  was  needed  to  foster  them.  Beautiful  they 
are,  —  the  wild  flowers  of  the  field,  —  but  under  the  eye  of 
Isabella  they  began  to  droop  and  wither ;  no  new  plants  came 
up  so  fair  and  fragrant  ad  the  old.  Why  not?  The  life 
of  the  people  was  trodden  down  by  the  hoof  of  the  Priest 


242     Character  of  M^.  Pre$oM  a$  m  Mtt&rkm.    [March, 

whom  Isabella  had  sent  to  his  work.  The  language  was  rode, 
says  Mr.  Prescott.  That  hindered  not ;  Bums  found  a  rude 
speech  in  Auld  Scotland,  but  the  verses  he  sung  in  ^^  hamelj 
westiin  jingle "  will  live  longer  than  the  well  filed  lines  of 
Pope.  Rudeness  of  language  hindered  not  the  genius  of 
Chaucer,  of  Hans  Sachs.  Mr.  Prescott  had  small  space  to 
note  the  alteration  of  laws,  the  change  of  social  systems,  or  the 
progress  of  civilisation  in  Spain,  but  he  has  some  twenty  pages 
to  bestow  upon  the  Drama,  and  gives  us  an  analysis  of  the 
^'  Tra^comedy  of  Celestina,  or  Ci^to  and  Melibea,"  spend- 
ing four  pages  upon  such  a  work.  A  philosophical  reader 
would  consent  to  spare  all  mention  of  Encina,  Naharro,  Oliva, 
Cota,  and  even  Fernando  de  Roxas,  if  in  the  place  which  they 
but  cumber  there  had  been  an  account  of  i3ie  real  thought, 
manners,  and  life  of  the  nation.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  com- 
plsdn  of  the  time  and  space  allotted  to  the  popular  literature 
of  Spain,  —  the  chapters  are  the  best  of  the  work ;  but  one 
fietmiliar  with  that  delightful  growth  laments  that  the  historian 
made  no  better  use  of  his  material  to  indicate  the  life,  char- 
acter, and  sentiments  of  the  people. 

Mr.  Prescott  overrates  the  excellence  of  Queen  Isabella. 
The  character  of  Ferdinand  was  so  atrocious  that  it  admits  of 
no  diefence.  Shall  it  be  said  the  age  was  distinguished  for 
fraud,  double-dealing,  perfidy,  and  hypocrisy  ?  It  affords  no 
good  defence,  for  it  was  in  these  very  qualities  that  Ferdinand 
surpassed  his  age.  He  was  a  tyrannicied  king ;  a  treacherous 
ally  ;  a  master  whom  no  servant  could  trust ;  a  faithless  hus- 
band in  the  life  of  Queen  Isabella,  and  &lse  to  her  memory 
after  her  death.  Few  will  deny  that  he  had  some  ability  and 
some  knowledge  of  kingcraft,  though  we  think  his  powers  and 
political  foresight  have  been  somewhat  overrated.  The  great 
men  of  the  realm  he  used  as  his  servants,  but  when  they 
acquired  renown  he  endeavoured  to  ruin  them ;  cast  them  off 
neglected  and  covered  with  dishonor.  His  treatment  of  Co- 
lumbus, Gonsalvo,  or  of  Ximenes,  would  hav«  been  a  disgrace 
to  any  prince  in  Christendom.  He  was  no  friend  to  the  nobil- 
ity, and  quite  as  little  the  friend  of  his  people ;  he  did  not 
favor  commerce  or  the  arts ;  no,  nor  letters  and  science.  His 
zeal  for  religion  appears  chiefly  in  the  expulsion  of  the  Moors 
and  the  Jews.  Isabella  had  some  natural  repugnance  to  the 
establishment  of  slavery  in  America,  but  Ferdinand  had  none. 
Mr.  Prescott,  who  is  not  blind  to  Ids  faults,  says  truly,  ^^  His 


1849.]     CharaoUr  of  Mr.  PruwU  as  an  Sutmiem.       248 

wafi  ttie  spirit  of  egotism.  The  circle  of  his  views  might  be 
more-<»r  less  expanded,  but  self  was  the  steady,  michangeable 
centre." 

Mr;  Prescott  censures  Ferdinand,  but  it  seems  to  us  for  the 
jrarpose  of  making  a  contrast  with  Isabella,  quite  as  much  as 
m  reference  to  the  unchangeable  laws  of  morality ;  the  efifects 
of  his  character  on  the  institutions  of  his  country  and  the 
welfare  €£  his  people  he  does  not  pcHut  out  in  a  manner  worthy 
oi  an  histcffian.  Let  us  turn  to  Isabella.  ^'  Her  character,'' 
he  sa^s,  ^^  was  all  magnanimity,  disinterestedness,  and  deep 
devotion  to  the  interest  of  the  people."  (Vol.  III.,  p.  898.) 
'^  Isabella,  discarding  all  the  petty  artifices  of  state  policv  and 
pursuing  the  noblest  ends  by  the  noblest  means,  stanas  far 
above  her  age ;"  ^^  she  was  solicitous  for  every  thing  that  con- 
cerned the  welfSEure  of  her  people."  This  is  high  pnuse  ;  but 
laying  aside  the  rules  of  Chivahry  let  us  look  in  tiie  spirit  of 
munanity.  The  great  political  work  of  this  reign  was  the 
establishment  of  National  Unity  of  Action.  Spain  had  been 
divided  into  many  kingdoms  ;  the  separate  provinces  of  eadi 
had  been  united  by  a  feeble  tie  ;  the  power  of  the  King  was 
resisted  and  diminished  by  the  authority  of  the  great  Barons, 
and  thus  the  nation  was  distracted,  and  its  power  weakened. 
Under  these  sovereigns  the  different  kingdoms  were  formed 
into  one  ;  the  several  provinces  were  closely  united,  the  great 
Barons  were  humbled  and  brought  into  dependence  upon  the 
throne ;  and  thus  National  Unity  of  Action  estabMied  by 
the  might  of  a  great  central  power.  To  accomplish  this  work, 
the  first  thing  to  be  done,  after  the  marriage  of  Ferdinand  and 
Isabella,  was  to  diminish  the  power  of  the  nobles.  The  same 
problem  was  getting  solved  in  other  countries  at  the  same 
time.  In  some  countries,  as  the  nobles  lost  power,  the  cities, 
with  their  charters,  gained  it ;  the  communes,  tiie  guilds,  in 
short,  the  people,  in  one  form  or  another,  got  an  increase  of 
pohtical  power.  But  in  Spain  it  was  not  so.  As  power 
receded  from  the  nobles,  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  king. 
The  people  only  gained  domestic  tranquillity,  not  practicAl 
political  power,  or  the  theoretic  recognition  of  their  rights. 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella  were  both  jealous  of  the  Cortes. 
Once,  when  Isabella  wanted  tiie  Cortes  of  Arragon  to  declare 
her  daughter  their  future  sovereign,  and  they  refused,  she 
exclaimed,  "  It  would  be  better  to  reduce  the  country  by  arms 
at  once  than  endure  this  insolence  of  the  Cortes."  (Part  II., 
Ch.  u.,  p.  362.)    After  Isabella's  death  Ferdinand  for  a  long 


244     Character  of  Mr.  FreicoU  as  an  Si^arian.    [Mareli» 

time  neglected  to  c(»iyene  the  Cortes.  (Vol.  HI.,  p.  284.) 
Once  he  obtained  a  dispensation  from  the  Pope,  allowing  him 
to  cancel  his  engagement  with  tiie  Cortes.  (Ibid.,  p.  398, 
note  58.)  In  the  first  two  years  of  her  reign,  Isabella  called 
three  meetings  of  Hie  Cortes — of  the  popular  branch  abne. 
The  motive  was  plain :  she  wanted  to  reduce  the  power  of  the 
nobles,  and  the  commons  were  the  appropriate  tool.  After 
this  work  was  done,  the  sessions  became  rare.  She  made  the 
Hermandad  take  tiie  place  of  tiie  Cortes,  to  the  great  detii- 
ment  of  popular  liberty.  But  in  1506  the  foolish  Cortes, 
either  incited  by  the  court  or  stimulated  by  the  Spanish  desire 
of  monopoly,  complsdned  that  the  right  of  representation  was 
extended  too  far.  Both  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  ^'  were  averse 
to  meetings  of  the  Cortes  in  Castile  oftener  than  absolutely 
necessary,  and  both  took  care  on  such  occasions  to  have  tiieir 
own  agents  near  the  deputies  to  influence  tiieir  proceedmgs," 
(Part  II.,  Ch.  XXVI.,  p.  444,  note  34,)  and  to  make  the  dep- 
uties understand  that  they  had  not  so  much  power  as  they 
fancied.  If  Isabella  had  all  the  superlative  qualities  which 
Mr.  Prescott  and  others,  also,  ascribe  to  her,  the  result  must 
have  been  different. 

We  will  not  deny  that  Isabella  did  much  for  the  nation  — 
much  to  establish  internal  tranquillity ;  much  to  promote  the 
security  of  property  and  person.  The  first  thing  mentioned 
by  Don  Clemencm  —  the  restoration  of  the  currency  from  its 
debased  condition  —  if  taken  alone,  was  highly  important. 
She  elevated  men  of  worth  to  high  stations,  though  they  were 
men  of  mean  birth  ;  doubtless  this  was  done  in  part  to  show 
the  nobles  that  she  could  dispense  with  them  in  places  which 
they  had  long  monopolized ;  still  she  knew  how  to  distinguish 
between  the  accidents  and  the  substance  of  a  man,  and  chose 
her  counsellors  accordingly.  Her  management  of  the  affiurs 
of  the  Church  displayed  no  littie  skill  and  much  energy.  She 
kept  the  Church  from  the  incursions  of  the  Pope, — a  task  not 
so  difficult  as  it  would  have  been  a  century  or  two  before,  for 
the  papal  power  was  visibly  on  the  wane  ;  still,  on  the  whole, 
we  must  confess  that  she  did  little  to  elevate  the  religious 
character  of  the  clergy  or  the  people. 

Did  she  encourage  letters  and  establish  printing-presses? 
few  great  works  were  published  in  Spain :  the  Lives  of  Saints, 
treatises  in  honor  of  the  Virgin,  books  of  '*  Sacred  Offices," 
and  fulminations  against  Moors,  Jews,  and  heretics ;  Papal 
Bulls,  and  the  works  of  Raymond  Lully — such  were  the  books 


1849.]     OharaeUr  of  Mr.  Pre%ocU  a$  an  HUiUmM.       245 

which  the  Spaniards  printed  and  devoured  in  the  fifteenth 
centorj.  The  works  of  Sallost  were  the  most  important  works 
issued  from  the  press  of  Valencia  in  that  century.  Did  she 
encourage  Science  ?  it  bore  no  fruits  which  the  nation  has  as- 
pired to  gather  from  the  Spanish  tree ;  Poetry  ?  little  was 
brought  to  pass  which  could  rival  the  best  works  of  former 
days.  In  Theology,  with  the  exception  of  the  Polyglot  and 
the  publication  of  the  Bible  in  the  Limousin  dialect,  certain* 
ly  a  surprising  event  in  that  age,  little  was  done  —  nothing 
worthy  of  note.  Under  a  hand  so  despotic,  and  under  the 
eye  of  the  Inquisition  which  Isabella  had  established,  what 
could  a  Spaniard  effect  ?  It  must  be  confessed  that  Isabella 
did  not  foster  the  greatest  interests  of  the  nation.  The  pub- 
lication of  Proclamations  which  had  the  force  of  law,  (Prag- 
maticas,)  so  frequent  in  her  reign,  shows  plainly  enough  her 
desire  to  rule  without  the  advice  of  the  people  whose  constitu- 
tion she  thereby  violated.  It  matters  not  that  they  purport 
to  be  made  at  the  demand  of  the  Cortes,  at  the  request  of 
corporate  cities,  or  of  prominent  men.  Even  in  America  we 
could  find  here  and  there  a  man  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States  wha  would  recommend  a  powerful  President  to  do  the 
same  —  perhaps  a  city  or  even  a  state  to  advise  it.  Those 
Proclamations  were  the  passmg-bell  of  popular  freedom.  Even 
if  they  dicl  not,  as  Mr.  Prescott  assures  us,  intrench  on  the 
principles  of  criminal  law,  or  affect  the  transfer  of  property, 
they  not  less  undermined  the  liberty  of  Castile.  The  Cortes 
of  Valladolid,  foolish  as  it  was  in  other  respects,  was  right  in 
remonstrating  against  those  Pragmaticas.  Mr.  Prescott  men- 
tions several  causes  which  contributed  to  increase  the  royal 
power  at  the  expense  of  the  people :  the  control  of  the  milita- 
ry and  ecclesiastical  Orders ;  the  pensions  and  large  domains ; 
the  fortified  places  ;  the  rights  of  seigneurial  jurisdiction ;  the 
increase  of  power  over  the  Moors ;  the  acquisition  of  territo- 
ry in  Italy,  and  the  discovery  of  a  new  continent ;  but  he 
omits  the  one  cause  which  gave  force  to  all  these  —  the  self- 
ish disposition  that  counted  political  power  as  a  right,  which 
the  monarch  might  use  for  her  own  advantage,  not  a  trust, 
which  she  must  administer  by  the  rules  of  justice,  and  for  the 
good  of  all  her  subjects.  This  was  the  cause  which  enfeebled 
Sie  people  after  it  had  broken  their  noble  tprrants  to  pieces. 
The  rights  of  the  people  were  continually  abridged.  In  1495, 
the  nobles  and  the  representatives  of  the  cities  complained 
that  the  people  were  without  arms.    Mr.  Prescott  thinks  this 


246     Charaeter  of  Mr.  Prescott  a$  an  Sktorian.     [March, 

fact  a  proof  that  they  were  in  a  fortunate  condition,  not  re- 
membering that  in  such  an  age  an  armed  people  was  what  the 
Constitution  is  to  America ;  what  the  British  Parliament  and 
acknowledged  -Ijaw  are  to  England  —  the  one  great  barrier 
against  the  incursions  of  the  crown.  She  found  the  people 
burthened  with  an  odious  tax,  imposed  for  a  temporary  emer- 
gency, and  continued  through  the  inertia  of  the  Cortes  and 
the  tyranny  of  the  crown.  Isabella  had  conscientious  scru- 
ples about  this  tax,  but  continued  it.  Monopolies  were  estab- 
lished by  this  queen,  who  is  represented  as  so  far  before  her 
time :  goods  must  not  be  shipped  in  foreign  vessels  when  a 
Spanish  bottom  could  be  had ;  no  vessel  must  be  sold  to  a  for- 
eigner ;  even  horses  were  not  allowed  to  be  exported ;  gold 
and  silver  must  not  be  sent  out  of  Spwn  on  pain  of  death. 
Yet  when  she  forbade  the  exportation  thereof  by  her  commer- 
cial policy,  by  sumptuary  laws  she  forbade  their  use  at  home. 
There  are  four  things  which  will  long  continue  as  the  indelible 
monuments  of  her  reign :  the  establishment  of  the  Inquisition 
for  the  torture  and  murder  of  her  subjects ;  the  expulsion  of 
the  Jews  and  the  Moors ;  the  enslaving  of  the  Indians  in 
America,  and  the  establishment  of  Negro  Slavery  there.  With 
this  we  leave  her  and  her  memory,  to  speak  on  the  general 
form  and  style  of  this  work. 

It  is  no  part  of  our  plan  to  criticize  the  account  of  civil  and 
military  transactions ;  but  so  far  as  we  have  examined  his  au- 
thorities, Mr.  Prescott  is  remarkably  accurate.  Some  errors 
will  always  escape  the  vigilance  of  an  author ;  in  this  case 
they  are  rare  and  unimportant.  The  whole  work  ,is  divided 
into  three  portions :  an  Introduction  ;  a  History  of  the  Do- 
mestic Policy  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  (Part  I.,)  and  a 
History  of  their  Foreign  Policy,  their  Discoveries  and  Con- 
quests. (Part  n.)  The  madn  division  is  a  good  one,  the 
minuter  division  into  chapters  is  judicious,  and  the  chapters 
well  arranged.  In  separate  chapters  the  author  treats  of 
various  subjects,  so  as  not  to  confuse  the  reader.  But  we 
notice  several  defects  in  the  matter  and  style  of  the  work. 
There  is  no  description  of  the  large  towns ;  no  account  of  their 
history,  the  growth  or  decline  of  their  population ;  of  their  rela- 
tion to  the  vUlages  and  hamlets ;  of  the  political  tendencies  of 
their  inhabitants.  A  brief  description  of  Madrid,  Toledo,  and 
Seville,  of  Barcelona  and  Valencia,  would  be  of  great  value 
to  one  who  wished  to  understand  the  age ;  the  materials  for 
this  are  not  wanting. 


1849.]     Character  of  Mr.  Pre$eatt  a$  an  Mitorian.       247 

Again,  his  portraits  of  distinguished  men  are  not  good ;  they 
often  lack  distinctness  and  specific  character.  We  have  a 
right  to  demand  a  careful  analysis  of  the  character  of  such 
men  as  Columbus,  Gonsalvo,  and  Ximenes ;  an  Historian  never 
does  his  duty  conipletely  until  he  gives  us  a  picture  of  each 

1)romment  man  of^  the  times  he  describes.  Portraits  of  men 
ike  Torquemada,  Fonseca,  Carillo,  and  Mendoza, — the  Arch- 
bishops of  Toledo  and  Seville  —  of  Bavard  and  Foix,  of  the 
monarchs  of  those  times,  and  of  the  other  eminent  foreigners 
who  come  upon  the  stage,  ought  to  have  a  place  in  a  work  like 
this. 

The  author  does  not  present  himself  to  his  readers  as  a 
Philosopher  who  knows  Man  scientifically,  and  therefore  has 
an  a  priori  knowledge  of  men ;  nor  does  he  appear  as  a  Man     tX 
of  the  World,  who  knows  men  by  a  wide  practical  acquaintance     ^ 
with  them.     In  consequence  of  this  twofold  defect  the  reader 
finds  neither  the  careful  judgment  of  the  philosopher  nor  the 
practical  judgment  of  the  man  of  aflSurs.    Both  of  these  de- 
fects appear  frequently  in  this  work;  —  for  example,  in  his 
general  review  of  the  administration  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabel- 
la, which  is  not  written  in  the  spirit  of  the  Statesman,  or  the 
spirit  of  the  Philosopher,  but  of  an  amiable  Gentleman  of  let-  .  » 
ters  filled  with  the  spirit  of  Chivalry.  ^ 

The  book  lacks  Philosophy  to  a  degree  exceeding  belief.^ 
The  author  seems  to  know  nothing  of  the  Philosophy  of  His- 
tory, and  litfle,  even,  of  Political  Economy.  He  narrates 
events  in  their  order  of  time,  with  considerable  skill,  but  the 
causes  of  the  events,  their  place  in  the  general  history  of  the 
race,  or  their  influence  in  special  on  the  welfare  of  the  nation, 
he  does  not  appreciate.  He  tells  the  fact  for  the  fact's  sake.^^ 
Hence  there  are  no  pages  in  the  book,  perhaps  no  sentences, 
which  the  reader  turns  back  to  read  a  second  time,  to  see  if 
the  thought  be  true ;  here  are  the  facts  of  History  without  the 
thought  which  belong  to  the  facts.  It  would  be  difficult  to 
find  a  history  in  the  English  language,  of  any  note,  so  entire- 
ly destitute  of  Philosophy.  Accordmgly,  the  work  is  dull 
and  inanimate ;  the  reading  thereof  tiresome  and  not  profitable. 
Thus  lacking  Philosophy,  and  having  more  of  the  spirit  of 
Chivaky  than  of  Humanity,  it  is  impossible  that  he  should 
write  in  the  interest  of  mankind,  or  juage  men  and  their  deeds 
by  Justice  —  by  the  Immutable  Law  of  the  Universe.  After 
long  and  patient  study  of  his  special  theme,  Mr.  Prescott 
writes  with  ihe  average  Sense  of  mankind,  with  their  average 


248     Character  of  Mr.  Prescott  as  an  Ststorian.    [March, 

of  Conscience  —  and  his  judgment,  the  average  judgment  of  a 
trading  town,  is  readily  accepted  by  the  average  of  men,  and 
popular  with  them ;  but  he  writes  as  one  with  Utile  sympathy 
for  mankind,  and  seems  to  think  that  Spain  belonged  to  Fer- 
dinand and  Isabella ;  that  their  power  was  a  Right  and  not  a 
Trust,  and  they  not  accountable  for  the  guardianship  which 
they  exercised  over  their  subjects.  The  style  of  the  work  is 
plain,  unambitious,  and  easily  intelligible.  The  language,  the 
figures  of  speech,  the  logic,  and  the  rhetoric  are  commonplace ; 
like  the  judgment  of  the  author  they  indicate  no  origmality, 
and  do  not  bear  the  stamp  of  his  character.  There  is  a  cer- 
tain mannerism  about  them,  but  it  is  not  the  mannerism  of 
Mr.  Prescott,  —  onlv  of  the  class  of  well-bred  men.  His  met- 
aphors, which  usually  mark  the  man,  are  commonplace  and 
poor ;  rarely  original  or  beautiful.  Here  are  some  examples : 
To  "  spread  like  wildfire ; "  to  act  "  like  desperate  gamblers ; " 
to  run  "  like  so  many  frighted  deer ; "  to  eirtend  "  like  an 
army  of  locusts ; ''  to  be  "  like  a  garden."  He  calls  woman- 
kina  "  the  sex ; "  not  a  very  elegant  or  agreeable  title.  There 
is  a  slight  tendency  to  excess  in  his  use  of  epithets ;  some- 
times he  insinuates  an  opinion  which  he  does  not  broadly  as- 
sert, rhetorically  understating  the  truth.  In  his  style  there  is 
little  to  attract,  nothing  to  repel,  nothing  even  to  ofiend ;  he 
is  never  tawdry,  seldom  extravagant;  never  ill-natured.  If 
he  finds  an  author  in  error,  he  takes  no  pleasure  in  pointing 
out  the  mistake.  Everywhere  he  displays  the  marks  of  a 
well-bred  gentleman  of  letters ;  this  is  more  than  can  be  said 
of  the  Reviewer  we  have  alluded  to  before.  After  long  study 
of  this  work,  we  take  leave  of  the  author,  with  an  abiding  im- 
pression of  a  careful  scholar,  diligent  and  laborious ;  an  amia- 
ble man,  who  respects  the  feelings  of  his  fellows,  and  would 
pass  gently  over  their  failings ;  a  courteous  and  accomplished 
gentleman,  who,  after  long  toil,  has  unexpectedly  found  that 
toil  repaid  with  money  and  with  honors,  —  and  wears  the  hon- 
ors with  the  same  modesty  in  which  they  have  been  won. 


1849.]  Oxford  Poetry.    ' ^S^~^  249 


Abt.  V.  —  The  Bothie  of  Toper-na-Fnonch.  A  Long- Vaca- 
tion Pastoral.  Bj  Arthur  Hugh  Clouqh.  London: 
Chapman  &  Hall.     1848. 

Here  is  a  new  English  poem  which  we  heartily  recommend 
to  all  classes  of  readers.  It  is  an  account  of  one  of  those 
Oxford  reading-parties  which,  at  the  begmning  of  a  long  vaca- 
tion, are  made  up  by  a  tutor  with  five  qr  six  undergraduates, 
who  wish  to  bring  up  arrears  of  study/^or  to  cram  for  exam- 
ination and  honors,  and  who  betakef  themselves  with  their 
guide  to  some  romantic  spot  in  Wales  or  Scotland,  where  are 
good  bathing  and  shooting,  read  six  hours  a  day,  and  kill  the 
other  eighteen  in  sport,  smoking,  and  sleep.  The  poem  is  as 
jocund  and  buoyant  as  the  party,  and  so  joyAil  a  picture  of 
college  life  and  manners,  with  such  good  strokes  of  revenge 
on  the  old  tormentors,  Pindar,  Thucydides,  Aristotle,  and  the 
logical  Aldrich,  that  one  wonders  tiiat  this  ground  has  not 
been  broken  up  before.  Six  young  men  have  read  three  weeks 
with  their  tutor,  and  after  joining  in  a  country  dinner  and  a 
dance  in  a  bam,  four  of  them  decide  to  give  up  books  for  three 
weeks,  and  make  a  tour  in  the  Highlands,  leaving  the  other  two 
partners  with  the  tutor  in  the  cottage,  to  their  matutine,  or 
morning  bath,  six  hours'  reading,  and  mutton  at  seven.  The 
portraits  of  the  young  party  are  briefly  but  masterly  sketched. 
Adam  the  tutor,  Lindsay  the  dialectician,  Hope,  Hobbes, 
AirKe,  Arthur,  who,  firom  his  thirty  feet  diving,  is  the  "  glory 
of  headers,'*  and  Hewson.  Philip  Hewson,  the  hero  of  the 
poem,  the  radical  poet,  in  this  excursion  falls  in  love  with  the 
golden-haired  Katie  at  the  farm  of  Rannoch,  and  is  left  behind 
by  his  returning  fellows.  The  poet  follows  his  hero  into  the 
mountams, 

^  Here  in  Badenoch,  here  in  Lochaber,  anon  in  Lochiel,  in 
Knoydart,  Croydart,  Moydart,  Morrer,  and  Ardnamurchan," 

wherever  the  restiess  Philip  wanders,  broodmg  on  his  passion ; — 

"Would  I  were  dead,  I  keep  sajring,  that  so  I  could  go  and  uphold 
her." 

Whilst  the  tutor  anxiously,  and  his  c(»npanions  more  joyously, 
arid  speculating  on  this  dubious  adventure  of  thehr  comrade,  a 
letter  arrives  at  the  cottage  from  Hope,  who  travelled  with 
Philip,  announcing  that  Philip  and  Katie  have  parted,  and 

NO.  VI.  17 


250  Oxford,  Poetry.  [March, 

that  Philip  is  staying  at  Castle  Balloch,  in  as^duons  attend- 
ance on  the  beautiful  "  Lady  Maria."  In  an  earnest  letter 
to  his  friend,  the  tutor,  Philip  explains  himself;  and  the  free- 
winged  sweep  of  speculation  to  which  his  new  life  at  the  Castle 
gives  occasion,  is  in  a  truly  modern  spirit,  and  sufficiently  em- 
barrassing, one  can  see,  to  the  friendliest  of  tutors.  Great  is 
the  mirth  of  the  Oxford  party  at  this  new  phase  of  the  ardent 
Philip,  but  it  is  suddenly  checked  again  by  a  new  letter  from 
Philip  to  Adam,  entreating  him  to  come  immediately  to  the 
hoihie  or  hut  of  Toper-na-Fuosich,  to  bring  him  counsel  and 
sanction,  since  he  has  finally  found  rest  and  home  in  the  heart 
of —  Elspie !  We  are  now  introduced  to  Elspie,  the  right 
Anteros,  hitherto  pursued  in  vain  under  deceiving  masks,  and 
are  made  with  Adam  the  tutor  to  acquiesce  in  Philip's  final 
choice.  The  story  leads  naturally  into  a  bold  hypothetical 
discussion  of  the  most  serious  questions  that  bubble  up  at  this 
very  hour  in  London,  Paris,  and  Boston,  and,  whilst  tiiese  are 
met  and  honestly  and  even  profoundly  treated,  the  dialogue 
charms  us  by  perfect  good  breeding  and  exuberant  animal 
spirits.  We  shall  not  say  that  the  rapid  and  bold  execution 
has  the  finish  and  the  intimate  music  we  demand  in  modem 
poetry ;  but  the  subject-matter  is  so  solid,  and  the  figures  so 
real  and  lifelike,  that  the  poem  is  justified,  and  would  be  good 
in  spite  of  much  ruder  execution  than  we  here  find.  Yet  the 
poem  has  great  literary  merits.  The  author  has  a  true  eye 
tor  nature,  and  expresses  himself  through  the  justest  images. 
The  Homeric  iteration  has  a  singular  charm,  half-comic,  half- 
poetic,  in  the  piece,  and  there  is  a  wealth  of  expression,  a 
power  of  description  and  of  portrait-painting,  which  excels  our 
best  romancers.  Even  the  hexameter,  which,  with  all  our 
envy  of  its  beauty  in  Latin  and  in  Greek,  we  think  not  agree- 
ble  to  the  genius  of  English  poetry,  is  here  in  place  to  heighten 
the  humor  of  college  conversation.  [  We  take  almost  at  hazard 
a  specimen  of  these  dactyls  and  spondees,  describing  a  day  at 
the  cottage. 

"  So  in  the  cottage  with  Adam  the  pupils  ^^^e.  together 
Duly  remained,  a4id  read,  and  looked  no  more  for  Philip, 
Philip  at  Balloch  shooting  and  dancing  with  Lady  Maria. 
Breakfast  at  eight,  and  now,  for  brief  September  daylight, 
Luncheon  at  two,  and  dinner  at  seven,  or  even  later, 
Five  full  hours  between  for  the  loch  and  the  glen  and  the  mountain. 
So  in  the  joy  of  their  life,  and  glory  of  shooting-jackets. 
So  they  read  and  roamed,  the  pupils  five  with  Adam. 


1849.]  (htfordPoet^.  251 

What  if  aatumsal  shower  came  frequent  and  diill  from  the  west- 
ward, 
What  if  on  browner  sward  with  yellow  leaves  besprinkled 
Gemming  the  crispy  blade,  the  delicate  gossamer  gemming, 
Frequent  and  thick  lay  at  morning  the  chilly  bead  of  hoar  frost, 
Duly  in  matutine  still,  and  daily,  whatever  the  weather, 
Bathed  in  the  rain  and  the  frost  and  the  mist,  with  the  Glory  of 

Headers, 
Hope.     Thither  also  at  times  of  cold  and  of  possible  gutters, 
Careless,  unmindfVil,  unconscious,  would  Hobbes,  or  e'er  they 

departed. 
Come,  in  a  heavy  peacoat  his  trouserless  trunk  enwrapping. 
Come,  under  coat  over-brief  those  lusty  legs  displaying, 
All  from  the  shirt  to  the  slipper  the  natural  man  revealing. 

Duly  there  they  bathed  and  daily  the  twain  or  the  trio 
There  where  of  mornings  was  custom,  where  over  a  ledge  of 

granite 
Into  a  granite  bason  descended  the  amber  torrent ; 
Beautiful,  veiy,  to  gaze  in  ere  plunging ;  beautiful  also. 
Perfect  as  picture,  as  vision  entrancing  that  comes  to  the  sightless, 
Through  the  great  granite  jambs,  the  forest  and  glen  and  moun- 
tain, 
Purple  with  heather  the  mountain,  the  level  stream  in  foreground ; 
Beautiful  seen  by  snatches  in  intervals  of  dressing, 
Mom  after  mom,  unsought  for,  recurring ;  themselves  too  seeming 
Not  as  spectators,  accepted  into  it,  immingled,  as  tmly 
Parts  of  it  as  are  the  kine  in  the  field  lying  there  by  the  birches. 

So  they  bathed,  they  read,  they  roamed  in  glen  and  forest ; 
Far  amid  blackest  pines. to  the  waterfall  they  shadow. 
Far  up  the  long,  long  glen  to  the  loch,  and  the  loch  beyond  it, 
Deep  under  huge  red  clifis,  a  secret ;  and  oft  by  the  starlight, 
Or  the  aurora  perchance  racing  home  for  the  eight  o'clock  mutton. 
So  they  bathed,  and  read  and  roamed  in  heathery  Highland ; 
There  in  the  joy  of  their  life  and  glory  of  shooting-jackets. 
Bathed  and  read  and  roamed,  and  looked  no  more  for  Philip." 

A  more  musical  passage  follows  the  arrival  of  Adam  at  the 
«  bothie." 

**  Ten  more  days  did  Adam  with  Philip  abide  at  the  change-house, 
Ten  more  nights  they  met,  they  walked  with  father  and  daughter. 
Ten  more  nights,  and  night  by  night  more  dist»it  away  were 

Philip  and  she. 
Happy  ten  days,  most  happy ;  and  otherwise  than  thought  of, 
Fortunate  visit  of  Adam,  companion  and  friend  to  David. 
Happy  ten  days,  be  ye  fruitful  of  happiness !     Pass  o'er  them 

slowly, 


252  Oxford  Poetry.  [March, 

Slowly ;  like  cruse  of  the  prophet  he  multiplied,  even  to  ages  I 
Pass  slowly  o'er  them,  ye  days  of  October ;  ye  soft  misty  mornings. 
Long  dusky  eves ;  pass  slowly ;  and  thou  great  Term-Time  of 

Oxford, 
Awful  with  lectures  and  books,  and  little-goes  and  great-goes, 
Till  but  the  sweet  bud  be  perfect,  recede  and  retire  for  the  lovers, 
Tea,  for  the  sweet  love  of  lovers,  postpone  thyself  even  to  dooms- 
day! 
Pass  o'er  them  slowly,  ye  hours !     Be  with  them,  ye  Loves  and 
Graces! 

We  have  just  received  a  new  collection  of  poems  by  Mr. 
Clough,  published  in  one  volume,  with  a  collection  of  poems 
by  Thomas  Kurbridge,  under  the  name  of  Ambarvalia.  From 
Mr.  Clough's  part  in  the  book  we  select  the  following  lines  of 
his  JEndymion :  — 

<<  On  the  mountain,  in  the  woodland. 

In  the  shaded  secret  dell, 

I  have  seen  thee,  I  have  met  thee ! 

In  the  soft  ambrosial  hours  of  night. 

In  darkness  silent,  sweet, 

I  beheld  thee,  I  was  with  thee, 
I  was  thine,  and  thou  wert  mine ! 

When  I  gazed  in  palace-chambers, 

When  I  trod  the  rustic  dance. 

Earthly  maids  were  fair  to  look  on, 

Earthly  maidens'  hearts  were  kind ; 

Fair  to  look  on,  fair  to  love ; 

But  the  life,  the  life  to  me, 

'T  was  the  death,  the  death  to  them. 

In  the  spying,  prying,  prating. 

Of  a  curious  cruel  world. 

At  a  touch,  a  breath  they  fade, 

They  languish,  droop,  and  die  ; 

Yea,  the  juices  change  to  sourness, 

And  the  tints  to  clammy  brown  ; 

And  the  softness  unto  foulness. 

And  the  odor  unto  stench. 

Let  alone  and  leave  to  bloom ; 

Pass  aside,  nor  make  to  die ; 

— In  the  woodland,  on  the  mountain, 

Thou  art  mine,  and  I  am  thine. 

Mr.  Clough's  verses  in  "  Ambarvalia  "  appear  to  be  of  an 
earlier  date  than  his  Pastoral,  and  by  no  means  to  promise  the 
vigor  of  sense  and  of  humor  which  abound  in  that  poem. 


1849.]  8hoH  RemewB  and  Nbtiee$.  253 


abt.  VI.— short  reviews  and  notices. 

1.  —  History  of  the  Philosophy  of  Mind:  embracing  the  opinions 
of  all  writers  on  Mental  Science  from  the  earUest  period  to 
die  present  time.  By  Robert  Blaket,  Esq.  4  vols.  8vo. 
pp.  478,  517,  557,  and  676.     London :  Saunders.     1848. 

•* There  are  two  modes,"  says  Mr.  Blakey,  "of  writing  a  his- 
tory of  philosophy.  The  one  b,  to  classify  authors  under  general 
heads,  in  conformity  with  a  principle  of  resemblance  or  affinity 
subsisting  among  their  respective  speculative  opinions.  .... 
The  other  is,  to  follow  the  order  of  time,  and  give  a  distinct  and 
personal  outline  of  every  philosopher's  views,  in  the  precise  order 
in  which  chronology  develops  them."  The  former  mode  Mr.  B. 
thinks  likely  to  create  confusion,  and  to  be  an  inconvenience  to 
young  students.  "  Greneralization  on  the  philosophy  of  mind 
ought  not  to  precede  observation  and  instruction,  but  to  follow 
them.  For  these  and  other  reasons,  I  have  adopted  the  order  of 
time,  as  nearly  as  the  nature  of  the  subject  would  admit ;  leaving 
the  reader,  except  in  some  few  special  cases,  to  select  and  classify 
writers  according  to  his  own  opinions  and  judgment  .... 
This  work  is  arranged  upon  a  plan  somewhat  particular.  It  is 
almost  exclusively  confined  to  mental  science.  I  am  not  acquainted 
with  any  publication  precisely  of  the  same  kind,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  Stewart's  Dissertation^  prefixed  to  the  Encyclopedia  Brir 
tanica.  Every  reader  knows  that,  on  the  continent,  religion, 
morals,  and  politics,  as  well  as  metaphysics,  are  comprehended 
under  the  general  term  Philosophy.  In  England,  however,  we 
have  commonly  kept  these  topics  apart  from  each  other ;  allowing 
each  to  rest  upon  its  own  basis ;  and  this  I  consider  a  better  plan 
upon  the  whole."  By  way  of  illustration  of  this  latter  view  we 
quote  the  following  from  the  Introduction :  **  Philosophy  is  a 
comprehensive  term,  and,  in  its  fullest  extent,  embraces  every 
thing  which  a  man  can  know  and  feel.  Philosophers  are,  how- 
ever, like  other  humbler  workmen,  obliged  to  divide  their  labors 
in  order  to  ensure  more  successful  and  efficient  execution;  and 
accordingly  we  find  that  from  the  first  dawn  of  any  thing  like 
science  and  literature,  all  knowledge  has  been  classified  under  tiiree 
leading  divisions;  namely,  a  knowledge  of  external  bodies,  of 
mental  faculties  or  powers,  and  of  moral  duties  and  obligations." 
These  extracts  will,  we  think,  sufficiently  indicate  Mr.  Blakey*8 
position.  Very  evidently,  nothing  like  a  "  Philosophy  of  Mind," 
properly  so  called,  is  undertaken  by  him,  or  to  be  expected  at 
his  hands.  To  give  a  correct  notion  of  what  his  aim  really  is, 
this  part  of  his  title-page  should  be  stricken  out,  and  the  whole 
should  read^  "Opinions  of  Robert  Bhikey,  Esq.,  on  the  opinionf 


254  Short  Reviews  and  Notices.  [March, 

of  all  writers,"  &c.  Opinions  are  all  he  treats  of,  and  his  opinion 
all  he  has  to  offer.  But  here  we  will  borrow  from  Mr.  Blakey 
(I.  p.  258)  a  saying  of  TertuUian  that  seems  to  the  point  *'  Her- 
esies/' says  he,  *'  are  the  individual  opinions  of  men  and  demons." 
Leaving  out  the  demons,  as  hypothetical,  the  converse  of  the 
proposition,  namely,  that  the  individucd  opinions  of  men  are  her- 
esies, however  it  may  be  in  the  Liberal  Churches  of  the  day,  in 
the  Church  of  Philosophy  is  an  axiom.  A  science  that  ends  in 
opmions  is  a  contradiction  in  terms;  for  Science  begins  where 
Opinion  ends. 

One  inconvenience  of  this  method  is,  that  if  we  undertake  to 
relate  opinions,  it  is  difficult  to  know  where  to  stop.  We  cannot 
enumerate  all  the  opinions  that  have  ever  been  held  by  men. 
And  if  we  undertake  to  select  the  more  important,  who  is  to 
determine  which  are  more  and  which  less  important  ?  His  own 
opinion  is  dear  to  every  one,  and  the  opinions  of  the  like  minded. 
But  this  does  not  prove  that  they  are  of  any  value  to  the  public 
at  large.  Supposing  Mr.  Whewell  had  undertaken  in  his  History 
to  retail  all  the  crazy  fancies  of  the  alchemists.  He  might  have 
made  a  rare  curiosity-shop,  but  the  bearing  upon  Science  would 
have  been,  at  best,  a  very  indirect  one. 

The  result  of  such  a  procedure  must  naturally  terminate,  as  in 
the  work  before  us,  in  an  attempt  to  give  a  little  of  every  thing. 
We  have  here  accounts  of  about  six  hundred  and  thirty  writers, 
according  to  our  reckoning,  besides  enumerations  of  and  hasty  al- 
lusions to  a  host  of  others.  Of  these,  to  judge  by  ourselves,  the 
very  nan^^s  of  a  large  proportion  will  be  new  to  the  mass  even  of 
readers  of  metaphysical  writings. 

Another  uncertainty,  besides  the  list  to  be  admitted,  is,  how 
much  to  say  about  each.  Mr.  Blakey's  means  are  limited :  his 
whole  number  of  pages,  exclusive  of  unconnected  dissertations, 
notes,  and  indices,  is  about  1,860.  This,  divided  by  the  number 
of  writers,  will  give  a  fraction  less  than  three  pages  to  each  ;  and 
you  cannot  very  well  say  any  thing  about  a  man  in  le^  than  half 
a  page.  Then  a  httle  favoritism  is  unavoidable  on  this  plan. 
With  no  guide  but  opinion,  strict  impartiality  is  not  to  be  expect- 
ed. All  these  things  taken  together,  the  reader  will  guess  that 
some  of  the  august  names  of  Philosophy  come  off  rather  slimly. 
Socrates  gets  but  three  pages;  Plato  eleven;  Bruno,  Bohme, 
Hamann,  and  Hegel  are  barely  touched  upon ;  while  the  ^'  Lady 
Mary  Shephard "  runs  at  large  in  a  spacious  common  eight  pages 
square.  Even  a  tolerable  sample  of  the  opinions  of  any  distin- 
guished man  is  hardly  to  be  found  in  these  volumes;  indeed, 
under  the  circumstances  could  not  be  looked  for. 

As  for  criticism,  this  is,  of  course,  out  of  the  question,  since  no 
criterion  is  established  or  acknowledged.  In  its  stead  we  have 
general  remarks,  often  of  a  personal  nature,  on  the  character  and 


1849.]  Short  Beviews  and  NoUcei.  256 

disposition  of  the  meo  reviewed.  Thus,  Spinoza  is  censored  for 
his  want  of  enthusiasm,  feeling,  and  patriotism;  his  consoling 
himself,  after  an  unsuccessful  loye-afi&ir,  by  a  devotion  to  philos- 
ophy and  a  life  of  retirement  and  meditation,  shows  his  coldness 
and  apathy,  &c.,  &c.  On  the  other  hand,  Alfred  the  Great,  prob- 
ably from  his  interesting  character,  has  the  advantage  of  Plato  by 
five  pages. 

Having  found  so  much  fault  with  this  work,  we  are  bound  to 
say  that  it  displays  much  liberality,  good  feeling,  and  industri- 
ous research.  It  is,  in  one  respect  the  most  extensive  work  of 
the  kind  that  we  know  of  It  includes  writers  of  all  times  and 
all  European  nations,  with  notices  of  some  Hindoo  philosophies, 
and  of  metaphysics  in  the  United  States.  As  Bibliography, 
therefore,  (though  by  no  means  complete,)  it  has  its  value.  Be- 
sides the  regular  matter,  there  are  interspersed  dissertations  of 
Mr.  Blakey's,  on  the  Faculties  of  the  Mind ;  on  the  Influence  of 
Language ;  on  the  Sublime  and  BeautifuL 


2.  —  The  NattircU  History  of  the  Hwnum  Secies,  its  typical 
forms,  vrimeval  distributions,  fHationSy  and  migrations.  Illus- 
trated Dy  thirty-nine  colored  plates,  with  portrait  and  vignette. 
By  LiEUTBNANT-CoLONEL  Chables  HAMILTON  Smith.  Ed- 
inburgh.    1848.     16mo.    pp.  464. 

Thi^  book  has  suffered  from  the  ambition  of  the  bookseller  to 
get  a  great  deal  into  a  very  small  compass.  The  consequence  is, 
a  mass  of  information  on  a  variety  of  topics  and  of  great  extent, 
so  scanty  in  general  views  or  application  of  the  facts  stated,  and  in 
every  way  so  cramped,  clipped,  and,  so  to  say,  short-breathed,  as  to 
be  spoiled  for  the  general  reader,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  altogether 
too  hasty  and  dogmatic  for  the  scholar.  On  a  topic  so  recent  as 
this,  assertions  cannot  be  admitted  unless  properly  authenticated. 
In  the  work  before  us  there  are  very  few  authorities  cited,  and  those 
often  so  loosely  as  to  give  the  impression  that  a  general  recollec- 
tion is  trusted  to.  It  is  difficult,  therefore,  to  pronounce  an  opin- 
ion with  regard  to  its  accuracy  in  matters  of  fact  We  notice 
many  unqualified  statements  on  what  are  usually  considered  very 
doubtful  points.  Thus,  the  hypothesis  of  a  former  continent  be- 
tween America  and  Asia,  at  best  an  entirely  unsettled  matter,  is 
laid  down  as  aa  admitted  fact  Other  statements  seem  to  have 
still  less  foundation,  as,  for  instance,  that  in  the  northern  portion 
of  the  United  States,  **  there  still  remain  rude  sculptures  of  very 
long  vessels  manned  with  namerous  rowers,  particularly  on  tide- 


256  SioH  HenifWB  <md  Mtic€9.  [Marcli, 

rocks  in  Massachuaetts,'' — of  which  we,  at  leasl,  hear  fat  the 
first  time.  It  is  impossible  to  say  what  proof  the  Colonel  may 
have  obtained,  perhaps  onlj  yestenlay,  of  these  and  innumerable 
the  like  matters,  even  where  he  contradicts  all  foregoing  authori- 
ties ;  but  it  is  quite  out  of  the  question  to  expect  that  such  state- 
ments will  be  received  as  correct,  without,  at  least,  more  circum- 
stantial exposition. 

From  the  want  of  recapitulation  or  hint  as  to  what  is  expected 
to  be  proved ;  from  the  great  want  of  method,  and  a  frequent  ob- 
scurity of  style,  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  make  out,  in  all  cases, 
the  views  intended  to  be  maintidned.  In  general,  they  seem  to 
be  these :  That  the  human  race  is  not  a  single  species,  but  a  genus 
composed  of  three  aboriginal  or  normal  types ;  that  these  types 
from  a  very  early  period  have  been  intermingled  to  a  considerable 
extent,  yet,  taken  largely,  are  distinguished  in  their  geographical 
dbtribution  not  less  than  specifically.  They  are,  1.  The  Woolly- 
haired  Tropical  type,  with  the  Miolsy  and  the  American  sub- 
types ;  2.  The  Hyperborean,  Beardless,  or  Mongolic  type,  with 
the  Finnic,  OuraUan  or  Tschudic,  and  the  Ethiopic  sub- types; 
3.  The  Bearded,  (geographically)  Intermediate,  or  Caucasian 
type,  with  the  Semitic  and  the  Typical  Caucasian  subdivisions. 

Thb  original  diversity  is  kept  up  by  an  instinctive  repulsion 
between  the  various  stocks ;  yet  they  are  intermingled  by  a  neces- 
sity of  nature  as  the  condition  of  progress,  producing  the  sublyp- 
ical  stems.  P.  120 :  "  War  and  slavery  seem  to  have  been,  and 
still  are,  the  great  elements,  perhaps  the  only  direct  agents,  to 
produce  amalgamation  of  the  typical  stocks,  without  which  no 
permanent  progress  in  the  path  of  true  civilization  is  made." 
And  p.  167:  ^Individual  interunions  between  the  typical  races 
not  only  tend  to  the  superior  development  of  form  and  capacity 
in  the  offspring,  but  the  same  tendency  continues  to  operate  be- 
tween difierent  tribes ;  the  constant  crossing  of  Celtic  with  Teu- 
Umic  blood,  upon  a  Perso- Arabian  basis,  being,  perhaps,  a  princi- 
pal cause  of  the  early  progressive  civilization  of  Southern  and 
Western  Europe ;  and  the  stationary  character  chiefly  observed  in 
the  Mongolic  races  being  a  result  of  the  want  of  the  same  acting 
cause."  The  first  chapter  is  occupied  with  an  examination  of  the 
^  changes  of  the  earth's  surface  since  the  commencement  of  the 
present  zoological  system,"  to  appearance  partly  with  the  view  of 
obviating  the  difficulty  of  accounting  for  the  population  of  coun- 
tries now  separate,  by  the  same  stock ;  and  partly  with  the  declared 
purpose  of  establishing  "  man's  coexistence  with  the  latter  period 
of  the  great  Pachydermous  era."  The  fact  that  human  bones  are 
found  in  company  with  remains  of  extinct  animals,  is,  we  believe, 
beyond  question,  so  far  as  that  goes.  Besides  the  instances  given 
by  our  author  in  his  second  diapter,  (which  is  devoted  to  the 
subject,)  we  may  mendon  that  numerous  fragments  of  human 


1849.]  8Jmi  Bevism  md  NoUeeB.  967 

bones,  tc^Uier  with  pottery,  anow-heads,  and  otiier  ioiipleiiieii«8». 
have  latdij  been  found  associated  with  bones  of  the  Mastodon  in 
Florida.  It  is  understood  that  the  locality  is  in  a  fair  way  to  be 
thoroughly  examined,  and  the  subject  investigated,  by  one  in 
every  respect  qualified  for  the  task. 

The  next  chapter  is  upon  the  question  of  the  unity  of  the 
human  race,  but  the  first  part  of  it  is  so  obscurely  written,  that 
afler  considerable  study,  we  are  utterly  at  a  loss  to  detect  in  it 
what  the  Colonel's  real  opinion  is.  But  from  other  passages  it  is 
clearly  as  above  stated.  Next  he  treats  of  certain  abnormal  forms; 
among  others,  of  the  Flathead  tribes  of  this  continent  Here  he 
quotes  recent  observations  of  Sir  R.  Schomburgh  to  the  pdnt 
(which  Dr.  Morton  also  maintains)  that  some  of  these  tribes  had 
naturally  this  shape  of  skull,  which,  as  he  well  remarks,  '^  appears 
to  have  bad  a  conmianding  influence  in  the  ideal  divine  of  the 
human  head ;  for  the  depression  of  forehead  and  occiput  it  found 
reproduced  by  many  tribes  in  both  the  southern  and  western  con- 
tinents." 

The  rest  of  the  volume  is  taken  up  with  a  detailed  examination 
of  the  various  races,  in  which  will  be  found  a  great  deal  of  infor- 
mation, doubtless  in  many  cases  original,  but  exceedingly  conftised, 
and  stated  in  such  a  way  as  to  be  deprived  of  much  of  its  value. 
Its  use  is  accordingly  that  of  suggestion,  rather  than  direct  The 
hints  are  very  excellent,  for  instance,  that  about  the  necessity  of 
crossing  among  the  different  races,  as  the  condition  of  progress. 
But  it  remains  only  a  hint  It  is  like  listening  to  the  conversation 
of  a  well  informed  person,  who  is  endeavouring  to  tell  in  half  an 
hour  what  he  knows  would  take  him  half  a  day  to  tell  properly, 
and  whom  you  cannot  interrupt  by  a  question. 

As  to  the  Coloners  theory  of  the  triplidty  of  the  human  race, 
as  this  respects  a  question  which,  if  not  the  most  interesting,  is  at 
present  the  most  vexed  in  the  whole  field  of  Fthnography,  —  the 
question  of  the  physical  unity  of  the  human  race,  —  we  desire  to 
say  a  few  words  upon  this  point  The  case  seems  to  stand  thus. 
In  Zoology,  the  fact  of  numerous  centres  of  distribution  is  un- 
questionable. There  is  no  animal  whatever  that  is  to  be  found  in 
every  part  of  the  world.  Among  vertebrate  animals  there  is  no 
species,  we  believe,  common  to  the  southern,  middle,  or  temperate 
regions  of  the  Old  World  and  the  New.  More  than  this,  every 
country  is  subdivided  into  numerous  Faunas,  the  species  of  which 
respectively  confine  themselves  to  their  own  often  very  narrow 
limits,  and  this  evidently  by  no  physical  constraint  but  by  a  nat- 
ural instinct  The  various  species  of  Birds  and  Fishes,  for  ex- 
ample, inhabit  each  its  own  region,  and  use  their  facilities  of  loco- 
motion only  to  resist  all  removal  beyond  their  fixed  limits.  Every 
part  of  the  globe  has  its  peculiar  animals  and  plants ;  and  besides 
minuter  subdivisions,  there  are  certain  continental  peeuUarilies^aBd 


258  Short  BemmoM  and  Notices.  [March, 

higher  still,  characters  distingoishing  the  New  and  the  Old  World. 
But  this  diversity  according  to  space  is  combined  with  regular 
coincidences  in  analogy  between  the  Faunas  of  the  same  latitudes, 
varying  in  proximity  from  the  north  pole  southward.  Thus,  the 
arctic  region  of  each  of  the  three  northern  continents  has  many 
species  which  are  common  to  all  three,  and  many  others  that  strik- 
ingly resemble  each  other.  As  we  go  southward,  the  number  of 
identical  species  diminishes ;  each  species  b  confined  within  nar- 
rower limits;  and  the  analogies  become  less  and  less  dose  in 
regular  progression  as  we  approach  the  south  pole.  The  animals 
of  the  antartic  extremities  of  the  continent  are  entirely  dissimilar. 
Now  if  we  look  at  the  distribution  of  the  various  races  of  man- 
kind over  the  world,  we  find  a  precisely  similar  arrangement  In 
the  north,  we  have  everywhere  races  closely  resembling  each 
other,  perhaps,  in  some  cases,  identical ;  as  the  Namollos  of  the 
Aleutian  islands  and  the  Esquimaux,  who  are  said  to  speak  dia- 
lects of  the  same  language.  Here  we  find  the  same  or  allied 
tribes  stretching  entirely  across  the  continent  As  we  go  towards 
the  south  we  find  a  constantiy  decreasing  analogy  with  tribes  of 
corresponding  geographical  position  in  other  continents  and  on 
the  difierent  sides  of  the  same  continent  Thus,  in  this  coun- 
try, we  come  immediately  to  a  diversity  of  tribes ;  the  Flatheads 
of  the  west  coast,  although  having  some  general  characters  in 
common  with  our  more  eastern  Indians,  are  strikingly  difierent 
from  them.  At  the  same  time,  they  present  analogies  with 
Asiatic  tribes  of  corresponding  latitudes.  The  Indians  of  Cali- 
fornia are  said  to  resemble  the  Malays ;  the  more  northern  tribes, 
the  Mongolian  nations,  &c.  But  in  South  America,  these  analo- 
gies gradually  lose  themselves.  When  we  come  to  the  southern 
extremities  of  the  continents,  we  have,  in  the  comparison  of  corre- 
sponding tribes,  the  extremes  of  dissimilarity  between  any  of  the 
savage  races  of  men.  The  Patagonians  are  the  largest  of  man- 
kind, with  lank,  straight  hair,  and  remarkably  robust  forms.  The 
Australians  are  tall,  but  their  limbs  astonishingly  shrivelled ;  their 
hair  neither  straight  nor  woolly,  but  intermediate,  namely,  frizzled, 
and  in  some  tribes  standing  up  to  a  great  height  f^m  the  head. 
Finally,  the  Hottentots  are  small  or  of  middle  stature,  some  of 
them  only  four  feet  high,  and  their  hair  consists  of  tufls  of  very 
crisp  wool*  Then  the  general  difierence  of  character  between 
the  animal  kingdom  as  a  whole,  in  the  Old  World  and  the  New,  is 
found  also,  to  a  certain  extent,  in  the  races  of  men.  Excluding 
the  arctic  races,  (who  form  an  exception  also  in  Zoology,)  there 
is,  with  all  the  diversity  of  tribes,  a  common  character  of  the 

*  In  a  Bushman  who  was  in  this  city  last  year,  the  hair  was  in  hard  twisted 
banches,  and  in  shape  so  n&ach  compressed,  that  on  a  transverse  section  the 
diameters  were  as  1  to  5. 


1849.]  ShaH  Beview$  and  NoUeeB.  269 

cranium  (the  only  point  thus  far  extensively  examined,)  among 
all  the  American  tribes. 

The  general  laws  of  geographical-  distribution,  therefore,  in  the 
present  state  of  the  world,  hold  good  as  well  of  the  savage  races 
of  mankind,  as  of  animals.  Prima  fade,  then,  they  have  held 
good  from  the  beginning ;  and  it  is  necessary  to  suppose  that  the 
various  typical  races  among  savages  have  originated,  as  a  general 
rule,  where  they  are  now  found,  unless  the  contrary  be  shown. 

Those  who  contend  for  the  physical  unity  of  the  human  race 
have  contented  themselves  with  showing  intermediate  forms  be- 
tween the  various  races,  and  certain  physical  and  mental  peculiar- 
ities which  they  have  in  common  ;  whence  they  deduce  the  possi- 
bility that  the  present  diversity  may  be  the  result  of  external  cir- 
cumstances. But  if  this  be  granted,  the  burden  of  proof  is  still 
on  them  to  show  that  it  is  so.  As  it  seems  to  us,  not  only  physical 
evidence,  but  the  reason  of  the  thing,  is  against  them.  Differences 
of  race  consist  in  aberrations  on  all  sides  from  a  normal  standard. 
These,  they  contend,  have  been  produced  by  the  inffuence  of  cli- 
mate and  various  outward  circumstances.  But,  in  the  first  place, 
it  is  among  savages,  and  in  proportion  to  the  want  of  civilization, 
that  these  aberrations  exist  Nations  in  proportion  to  their  civil- 
ization resemble  each  other.  It  is  only  the  absence  of  civilization 
that  permits  any  extensive  effect  of  outward  inffuences.  The 
civilized  man  resists  them.  In  a  word,  the  civilized  man,  and  not 
the  savage,  is  the  typical  man.  But  to  suppose  that  from  an 
originally  civilized  state  mankind  by  external  inffuences  degener- 
ated to  the  savage,  is  contrary  to  reason  and  experience.  The 
course  of  nature  is  not  from  the  perfect  to  the  imperfect ;  from 
the  highly  developed  to  the  less  developed ;  but  the  reverse. 

The  truth  is,  what  makes  man  man  is  not  his  body,  but  his 
mind.  It  is  in  the  mental  condition  that  the  secret  of  external 
condition,  or  of  any  change  in  it,  is  primarily  to  be  sought.  What 
is  really  meant  by  the  warm  opposition  to  a  separation  of  species, 
its  source  and  strength,  is,  an  instinctive  feeling  of  a  profound  unity 
and  brotherhood  among  men,  transcending  all  distinctions,  how- 
ever vast  to  appearance,  as  mere  degrees,  more  or  less,  of  the  same 
nature ;  and  an  utter  separation  from  the  brutes,  not  even  lessened 
by  the  nearest  approach  in  outward  resemblance  or  even  in  ap- 
parent intelligence.  This  unity  and  this  separation  we  also  feel  as 
thoroughly  as  any.  But  it  is  a  spiritual  and  not  a  physical  one. 
Its  true  ground  is  the  possibility  of  a  spiritual  nature.  This,  in 
the  highest,  remains  in  part  a  possibility  only ;  it  is  not  less  a 
possibility  to  the  lowest  This  is  the  great  fact  which  constitutes 
the  sacredness  of  the  human  being  as  such.  It  is  not  affected  by 
any  conceivable  degree  of  brutishness  or  degradation,  for  it  is  a 
distinction  not  in  degree,  but  in  kind.  No  race  has  ever  been 
found  so  low  as  not  to  recognize  a  Superior  Being.    This  may 


260  Short  Beviem  0md  NaticeB.  [Mardi, 

sometimefi  seem  not  very  important.  That  the  sayage  should  fall 
down  before  a  bunch  of  rags  at  the  top  of  a  stick,  does  not  seem 
to  argue  an]r  great  dignity  of  nature.  But  what  possessed  him 
to  do  it  ?  What  want  or  desire  did  he  thereby  gratify  ?  Very 
evidently,  in'order  to  dream  of  a  Higher,  he  must  have  recognised 
the  lower,  himself;  he  must  be  conscious  of  his  own  existence. 
This  is  the  great  step.  Consciousness  is  the  gate  by  which  we 
pass  out  of  the  animal  kingdom  into  higher  regions.  Henceforth 
all  spiritual  attainments  and  excellences  are  present  in  possibility. 
The  soul  has  recognized  itself,  and  an  infinite  horizon  is  spread 
before  it.  Thus,  ^ose  who  contend  for  the  physical  unity  of  man 
are  right  in  what  they  mean,  but  they  do  not  say  and  do  not  know 
what  they  mean.  It  is  necessary  to  distinguish  between  these 
notions,  for  they  are  altogether  diverse,  and  a  confhsion  of  them 
must  of  course  make  mischief.  Thus,  for  instance,  it  were  much 
to  be  desired  that  arguers  against  Slavery,  who  occasionally  wan- 
der into  the  field  of  Ethnography,  would  stick  to  this  great  point, 
and  not  lose  them^lves  in  trying  to  disprove  the  obtruding  cere- 
bellum ;  the  webbed  hand ;  the  ape-like  arm,  and  leg,  and  pelvis. 
What  of  all  that  ?  Is  he  not  a  man  ?  If  he  is,  all  these  things 
may  be,  or  not ;  they  are  totally  insignificant  This  is  our  tower 
of  strength,  and  if  we  forsake  this,  we  are  delivered  over  to  the 
enemy. 

That  man,  so  far  as  he  is  an  animal,  should  be  governed  by  the 
same  laws  as  the  animals,  seems  to  be  self-evident  That  these 
laws,  however,  should  be  modified  in  his  case,  is  not  less  natural. 
He  has  an  animal  nature,  but  this  is  a  comparatively  insignificant 
part  of  him.  We  should  expect,  therefore,  that  the  sharp  dis- 
tinctions of  species  would  be  less  marked  and  less  persistent  The 
ideal  animal,  the  perfect  horse  or  dog,  is  that  in  which  the  specific 
traits  are  the  most  developed,  in  which  the  species  is  most  distinct 
For  this  is  the  character  of  the  animals,  to  express  distinctly  some 
special  character.  In  man,  the  ideal  of  development,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  a  point  where  all  differences  of  race  disappear,  since  it  is 
physical  characteristic  of  man  to  unite  all  the  animal  organs  in  a 
central  harmony. 

In  these  views  we  are  by  no  means  sure  that  we  should  not 
have  Colonel  Hamilton  Smith  on  our  side,  if  he  would  but  speak 
out ;  for  some  obscure  utterances  of  his  seem  to  look  that  way. 
But  his  hypothesis,  as  he  states  it,  misses  all  round.  He  rests 
it  on  zoological  analogy,  but  does  not  carry  this  analogy  out.  If 
there  are  three  races,  it  is  the  highest  improbability  that  there 
are  not  more.  We  hope  he  will  take  time  some  day  to  write  out 
fully  what  he  means.  We  may  observe,  in  parting,  that  the 
thirty-four  colored  plates  (many  of  whioh  are  original)  are  well 
executed  and  satisfactory,  although  small 


1849.]  Slwrt  MmewB  and  Notices.  261 


8.  —  The  Plant :  a  Biography^  in  a  series  of  Popular  Lectures, 
By  M.  J.  ScHLEiDEN,  M.  D.,  Professor  of  Botany  to  the  Uni- 
versity of  Jena.  Translated  by  A.  Henfret,  F.  S.  S.,  &c. 
With  five  colored  plates  and  thirteen  wood  engravings.  London : 
H.  BaiUiere.     1848.    8vo.    pp.865. 

Fbofessor  Schleiden  is  one  of  the  most  distinguished  Hving 
botanists  of  Germany.  As  we  have  understood,  however,  he  was 
bred  a  lawyer,  and  came  to  Science  at  a  somewhat  advanced  age. 
He  seems  to  have  early  attached  himself  to  the  philosophical  or 
anti-philosophical  doctrines  of  Fries  of  Jena,  and  to  have  espoused 
his  quarrel  with  the  "  Fhysiophilosophers,"  who  in  the  early  part 
of  the  century  had  their  head  quarters  there.  This  quarrel 
appears  to  have  inflamed,  in  his  mind,  into  a  general  hostility  to 
all  philosophy,  if,  indeed,  the  Friesian  doctrines  do  not  of  them- 
selves amount  to  that.  More  than  half  of  the  first  volume  of  his 
"  Grundsuge  der  Wtssensckaftlichen  Botanik,^*  his  principal  work 
hitherto,  is  occupied  with  the  bitterest  polemics  against  the  No- 
turphilosophen ;  and  in  the  work  before  us,  where  one  would 
expect  him  to  respect  the  neutral  ground  of  Society,  we  find  him 
still  in  the  most  bellicose  humor,  and  ready  to  keep  the  lists 
against  all  comers.  Science  in  Germany  occupies  (or  until  .the 
new  revolutions  there  has  occupied)  similar  ground  to  Politics 
among  us,  as  it  is  the  most  generally  interesting  topic,  and  forms 
the  battle-field  in  that  war  of  words  that  here  expends  itself  on 
questions  of  state.  This  importing  into  Science  the  polemics  and 
partizan  spirit  of  the  forum  is  thus  not  quite  so  extraordinary  or 
in  so  bad  taste  as  it  would  be  here. 

But,  as  before  remarked,  the  old  pique  against  individuals  has 
in  the  present  book  extended  into  a  hatred  of  philosophy  in  gen* 
eral.  His  mission.  Professor  Schleiden  thinks,  (p.  60,)  is  "to 
labor  at  this  unspiritualizing  of  Nature,  and  I  took  occasion  in 
my  former  lecture  to  point  out  how  the  forms  of  the  world  of 
plants,  impressing  themselves  so  vividly  on  the  sensuous  nature, 
how  their  mysterious  and  silent  weavings  and  workings,  trans- 
formed before  the  eye  of  the  instructed  naturalist  into  chemico- 
physiological  processes,  which  take  place  on  and  in  an  invisible 
utricle,  the  vegetable  cell ;"  doubtless  altogether  safe  from  spiritual 
influences.  And  agiun,  (211,)  that  ''we  may  define  the  purpose 
of  all  investigation  of  Natural  Science  as  an  attempt  to  show  that 
the  whole  world  around  us  is  bound  by  exceptionless  mathematical 
laws."  The  naturalist,  however,  on  this  scheme  must  be  confessed 
to  be  as  yet  very  partially  **  instructed ; "  for  Schleiden  himself 
confesses,  (212,)  **  in  plants  and  animals,  the  forms  become  so 
varied  and  so  aberrant,  that  a  mathematical  basis  is  out  of  the 
question : "  of  course ;  for  they  cannot  be  so  ^^unspiritualized"  as 


262  Short  Bmew9  and  Notices.  [Maroh, 

to  be  brought  under  the  laws  of  mere  dead  matter.  They  are  liv- 
ing, concrete  realities,  and  not  mathematical  abstractions.  <<  Yet," 
says  he,  ^'  there  lies  in  Man  an  irrecusable  necessity,  never,  in  his 
contemplation  of  the  world,  to  allow  of  accident,  which  would 
leave  him  comfortless  and  hopeless  in  the  presence  of  the  forces 
of  Nature,  to  which  he  is  subject"  Truly,  if  he  were  so  subject ; 
but  this  he  is  not,  unless  he  be  a  plant  or  an  animal,  and  tben  he 
probably  will  not  trouble  himself  much  about  the  matter.  Nothing 
can  be  shallower  than  these  trite  assertions  of  the  impossibility  of 
accident  or  imperfection  in  Nature.  Grod,  it  is  argued,  being 
perfect,  can  make  no  mistake,  and  undertake  nothing  beyond  his 
powers.  But  let  us  turn  this  pious  argument  round.  Nothing  surely 
is  perfect  except  God ;  then  if  Grod  creates  nothing  but  what  is 
perfect,  he  can  create  nothing  but  himself;  that  is  to  say,  there  is 
no  creation.  Or  see  in  another  aspect  to  what  this  exaltation  of 
Nature  leads.  (P.  268.)  "He  who  lets  his  free  glance  rove 
over  the  earth's  ball,  and  looks  at  large  over  the  play  of  active 
forces,  laughs  at  the  digging,  dragging,  bustling,  panting  ant-hill 
which  we  call  Humanity,  and  which  with  all  its  imagined  wisdom 
is  not  able  to  alter  the  slightest  working  of  the  laws  which  the 
tyrant  grantess,  Nature,  has  prescribed  to  her  slaves."  Can  any 
thing  be  more  preposterous  than  this  setting  of  material  forces,  of 
Size  and  Weight,  above  the  Spiritual?  One  fancies  the  trans- 
formed companions  of  Ulysses  might  have  talked  thus^  if  the  con- 
versation fell  on  scientific  subjects. 

Now  this  "  unspiritualizing "  of  Nature  is  just  as  repulsive  to 
common-sense  as  it  is  to  philosophy.  It  is  simply  the  product  of 
the  abstract  Understanding.  Thus  we  find  our  author  just  as 
much  averse  to  Goethe's  morphological  doctrines,  his  Metamor- 
phosis of  the  Plant,  (which  seems  generally  admitted  by  botanists,) 
as  to  the  '^  physiophilosophers  **  and  their  tenets. 

In  spite  of  all  his  talents  and  learning,  therefore,  and  a  lively 
paradoxical  way  that  attracts  the  attention,  he  is  incapable  of 
producing  a  truly  popular  book.  Nevertheless,  this  is  a  readable 
and  instructive  volume,  from  the  facts  he  gives,  though  not  from 
the  use  he  m^es  of  them.  We  copy  for  the  benefit  of  our  read- 
ers some  detached  bits,  without  regard  to  context  or  order,  since 
these  do  not  much  affect  their  value  even  in  the  work  itself. 

"  It  was  discovered  by  Arago  that  the  vine  will  no  longer  ripen 
its  fruit  where  the  mean  temperature  of  the  year  is  higher  than 
eighty-four  degrees,  and  on  the  contrary,  the  Date  will  not  flourish 
where  the  temperature  sinks  below  eighty-four  degrees.  These 
conditions  exactly  meet  in  Palestine ;  and  the  Jews,  when  they 
took  possession  of  this  country,  found  the  Date  and  the  Grape 
together.  Now,  had  the  temperature  of  the  earth  either  nsen  or 
fallen  in  the  least  since  that  time,  one  of  the^e  plants  must  either 


1849.]  Shm  Meviews  €Bnd  Notices.  268 

have  disappeared  from  Palestine  or  become  unfruitful  theje,  which, 
however,  is  not  the  case.*'  .  .  .  ''When  it  is  considered  that 
almost  a  century  is  required  to  form  a  layer  of  humus  (vegetable 
mould)  nine  iuches  thick,  by  the  most  luxuriant  vegetation  of  the 
tropics ;  that  this  layer,  to  convert  it  into  Coal,  must  be  compressed 
into  a  twenty-seventh  part  of  its  thickness,  an  approximative  con- 
ception may  be  form^  of  the  duration  of  that  period ;  since  the 
super-imposed  layers  of  coal  in  England,  for  instance,  oflen  have 
a  collective  thickness  of  forty-four  feet,  and  correspond,  therefore, 
to  a  period  of  time  almost  equalling  100,000  (158,400  ?)  years." 
.  .  .  ''  Spontaneously,  and  without  the  conscious  cooperation 
of  Man,  a  certain  number  of  plants  attach  themselves  to  the  Lord 
of  Creation  and  follow  him  whithersoever  he  gotss.  ...  It 
is  more  than  probable  that  the  different  great  families  of  Nations 
may  be  distinguished  through  this  circumstance,  and  from  the 
weeds  which  have  firmly  attached  themselves  to  their  transit  may 
with  some  certainty  be  determined  whether  Sclaves  or  Germans, 
Europeans  or  Orientals,  Negroes  or  Indians,  &c.,  formerly  built 
their  huts  on  any  spot.  .  .  .  The  North  American  savage 
significantly  calb  our  Plantain,  or  Road-weed,  {Plantago  major^) 
'  the  Footstep  of  the  Whites ; '  and  a  common  species  of  Vetch 
(  Vicia  cracca)  still  marks  the  former  abode  of  the  Norwegian  colo- 
nists in  Greenland.**  .  .  .  **  An  old  Chinese  legend  narrates : 
A  pious  hermit,  who  in  his  watchings  and  prayers  had  often  been 
overtaken  by  sleep,  so  that  his  eyelids  had  closed,  in  holy  wrath 
against  the  weakness  of  the  fiesh,  cast  them  off  and  threw  them 
on  the  ground.  But  a  god  caused  a  Tea-shrub  to  spring  out  of 
them,  the  leaves  of  which  exhibit  the  form  of  an  eyelid  bordered 
with  lashes,  and  possess  the  gif^  of  hindering  sleep."  .  .  •  ''An 
acre  of  land  planted  with  cabbages  requires  more  than  five  mil- 
lion pounds  of  water  in  the  four  summer  months  ;  an  acre  plant- 
ed with  hops,  as  much  as  six  or  seven  millions  of  pounds.  From 
accurate  examinations,  it  appears  that  streams  carry  away  in  some 
cases  four  fifths  of  all  the'water  precipitated 'from  the  atmosphere, 
and  indeed  it  would  seem  fully  the  whole.  But  assuming  that  only 
one  half  is  thus  carried  away,  and  the  rest  made  available  to  the 
plants,  this,  even  in  England,  will  give  us  less  than  twelve  hundred 
thousand  pounds  per  acre.  The  watery  vapor  of  the  atmosphere 
must  therefore  be  brought  to  the  plant  in  some  other  way,  and 
this  happens  through  the  property  of  absorbing  the  moisture  of 
the  atmosphere,  which  is  possessed  by  most  of  the  constituents  of 
the  soil.  No  substance  possesses  this  property  in  so  high  a  degree 
as  humus." 


264  Short  Betnews  and  Notices.  [Mardi, 


4 — Labor  and  cfther  Capital :  the  JRdghts  of  each  secured  cmd  the 
Wrongs  of  both  eradicated,  or,  an  Ea^sition  of  the  Cause 
why  few  are  Wealthy  and  many  Poor,  and  the  Delineation  of 
a  System,  which,  without  infringing  the  Rights  of  Property, 
will  give  to  Labor  its  Just  Reward  By  Edward  Kellogg, 
Author  of  "  Currency,  the  Evil  and  the  Remedy."  New  York. 
1849.     1  vol.    8vo.    pp.  298.      . 

Mr.  Kellogg  is  a  merchant  of  New  Tork,  who  has  retired 
from  active  business  and  now  devotes  himself  to  studying  the 
Philosophy  of  Finance.  The  work  referred  to  in  the  title-page 
contained  a  remarkable  exhibition  of  the  evils  of  our  present  mon- 
etary scheme.  The  present  work  sets  forth  the  same  thoughts  in 
a  new  form,  and  applied  to  other  examples. 

The  book  contains  an  Introduction  and  two  Parts.  In  the  In- 
troduction Mr.  Kellogg  very  briefly  defines  his  terms,  and  states 
his  design.  Part  I.  treats  of  the  Principles  of  Distribution.  The 
several  chapters  relate  to  value,  to  money  as  the  medium  of  dis- 
tribution ;  to  a  rate  of  interest,  which  determines  the  amount  to 
be  distributed  to  the  Capitalist  and  the  Laborer ;  to  the  Banking 
System.  In  this  part  of  his  work  he  explains  at  length  the  evils 
of  the  present  monetary  system,  and  illustrates  his  opinions  by 
striking  examples. 

Money,  he  says,  is  the  measure  of  all  values ;  hence,  as  the  na- 
tion fixes  the  length  of  the  yard  and  the  capacity  of  the  bushel, 
so  must  it  the  value  of  money :  this  can  only  be  done  by  fixing 
the  rate  of  interest,  and  in  doing  that  the  nation  determines  what 
proportion  of  a  laborer's  earnings  shall  go  to  the  capitalist,  and 
what  remain  in  his  own  hands. 

"  Money  is  valuable  in  proportion  to  it»  power  to  accomnlate  valae  by  inter- 
est A  dollar  which  can  he  loaned  for  twelve  per  cent  interest  is  worm  twice 
as  much  as  one  that  can  be  loaned  for  bat  six  per  cent.,  as  much  as  a  railroad 
stock  which  will  annually  bring  in  twelve  per  cent.,  is  worth  twice  as  much  as 
one  thAt  annually  brings  in  six  per  cent" — p.  56. 

*'  The  right  to  fix  the  value  of  money  is  as  much  reserved  by  the  govern- 
ment, as  the  right  to  fix  the  length  of  the  yard  or  the  weight  of  the  pound , 
and  the  regulation  of  its  value  is  a  thousand  times  more  important  to  the 
people,  than  the  regulations  of  the  length  of  the  yard-stick  or  the  weight  of 
the  pound." — p.  61. 

Money  is  not  merchandise,  for  it  is  the  standard  measure  of  all 
values.  The  common  laws  of  merchandise  will  not  apply  to  mon- 
ey. He  thus  states  the  effect  of  a  high  rale  of  interest,  pp.  75- 
77,94,115. 

"  There  are  but  two  purposes  to  which  the  yearly  produce  of  labor  can  be 
applied.  One  is  the  payment  of  the  yearly  rent  or  mterest  on  the  capital  em- 
ployed, and  the  other  is  the  payment  of  labor.  If  laborers  pay  to  capital,  as 
use  or  interest  for  the  year,  their  whole  surplus  products,  the  laborers,  as  a 


1849.] 


Sa^ori  Bemm  and  Nbtiees.  265 


hodj^  work  merely  for  a  ivibsiBtence,  and  the  capital  takes  their  whole  sofphM 
eamiDgs.  The  laborer  reodvei  for  his  gear's  toil,  food,  clothing,  and  shelter 
only,  and  these,  perhaps,  of  the  poorest  kind ;  while  the  capitalist  lives  in  Inx* 
nry,  increases  the  number  of  his  bonds  and  mortgages,  or  with  his  income 
buys  land  or  bnilds  houses  to  let,  which  will,  in  succeeding  years,  take  a  still 
greater  sum  from  the  laborer.  The  law  of  interest,  or  .per  centage  on  money, 
as  much  goyems  the  rent  or  use  of  all  property,  and  consequenUy  the  reward 
of  labor,  as  the  law  of  grayitation  governs  the  descent  of  water.  If  interest 
on  money  be  too  high,  a  few  owners  of  capital  will  inevitably  accnmulate  the 
wealth  or  products  of  the  many.  No  body  of  men  can,  by  labor,  offer  sucoess- 
fol  resistance  to  accumulation  by  the  law  of  interest,  more  than  they  can  bj 
labor  alter  the  effect  of  the  law  of  gravitation.  The  evil  is  legislative,  and 
the  remedy  must  be  legislative. 

'^  Money  loaned  on  mterest,  or  invested  in  property,  is  doubled  in  a  certain 
length  of  time,  according  to  the  rate  of  interest  dharged.  When  this  rate  is 
too  high,  it  requires  the  principal  to  be  doubled  in  so  short  a  time,  that  the 
borrower  is  compelled  to  give  all  his  surplus  products  as  interest  or  rent  on  tha 
capital ;  whereas,  instice  requires  that  he  should  pay  for  its  use  only  a  moderate 
per  centage,  and  himself  retain  the  chief  surplus  of  his  labor. 

"  The  following  illustration,  calculating  property  to  accumulate  or  double  at 
certain  rates  of  yearly  per  eentaffe,  in  the  same  manner  as  money,  will  dearly 
exhibit  the  various  results  to  laborers  from  various  rates  of  interest  A.,  B., 
and  C,  are  voung  men,  who  have  just  come  of  a^.  C.  is  heir  to  $10,000, 
while  A.  and  B.  are  mechanics,  without  capital.  C.  contracts  with  A.  and  B. 
to  build  a  house  which  shall  cost  $5,000,  on  a  lot  for  which  he  paid  $5,000. 
The  house  and  lot  together  are  worth  $10,000.  C.  leases  this  property  to  A* 
and  B.,  and  charges  them  seven  per  cent  upon  its  cost,  clear  of  insurance,  tax- 
es, and  repairs.  The  interest  is  payable  once  a  quarter.  A  rate  of  interest 
of  seven  per  cent,  per  annum,  paid  quarterly,  will  accumulate  a  sum  equal  to 
the  principal  loaned  or  invested  in  property  in  ten  years.  In  this  period,  A. 
and  B.  are  compelled  to  buy  anotner  lot,  build  upon  it  another  as  good  a 
house,  and  pay  the  lot  and  house  to  C.  for  the  use  of  the  house  they  occupy. 
In  twenty  years,  it  A.  and  B.  retain  the  nse  of  the  house  and  its  accruing 
rents,  they  must  pay  C.  three  houses;  in  thirty  years,  they  must  pav  him  sev- 
en houses ;  in  forty  years,  fifteen  houses ;  in  fifty  years,  thirty-one  nouses ;  in 
sixty  years,  sixtj-three  houses ;  and  in  seventy  years,  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
seven'houses.  In  sevemy  years  all  these  are  built  by  A.  and  B.,  and  paid  to 
C.  for  the  use,  or  as  the  accumulation  on  the  one  that  he  leased  to  them.  The 
one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  lots  which  A.  and  B.  earn  the  money  to  buy, 
cost  $635,000,  and  the  buildings  cost  an  equal  amount,  making  together, 
$1,270,000;  which  sum  is  paid  to  C.  for  seventy  years*  rent  of  one  nouse  and 
lot  worth  $10,000.  At  the  expiration  of  the  lease,  the  original  house  must  be 
returned  to  its  owner,  as  well  as  the  rent  If,  instead  of  ^ing  invested  in  the 
house  and  lot,  the  $10,000  were  loaned  on  interest  at  seven  per  cent.,  and  the 
interest  were  collected  and  re-loaned  quarterly,  the  money  would  accumulate 
in  a  given  period  precisely  the  same  amount  as  the  property. 

"  Now,  suppose  interest  to  be  at  three  per  cent  per  annum,  and  A.  and  B. 
to  build  the  house,  and  pay  C.  three  per  cent  annually  on  its  cost  of  $10,000. 
This  is  $300,  instead  of  $700  a  year;  and,  at  this  rate,  the  interest  on  money 
eollected  and  re-loaned  quarteriy,  requires  nearly  twenty-four  years  to  accumu- 
late a  sum  equal  to  the  principal.  Therefore,  in  twenty-four  years  A.  and  B. 
would  give  C.  another  house;  and  in  seventy-two  years,  seven  houses,  instead 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven,  which  they  are  compelled  to*  do  at  seven 
ner  cent,  interest  The  laoor  of  building  the  houses  is  neither  increased  by  a 
high  rate,  nor  dhninished  by  a  low  rate  m  interest" — pp.  75-77. 

^The  ten  thousand  most  wealthy  men  in  the  Unitea  States  are  probably 
worth,  on  an  average,  at  least  $300,000  —  in  the  agzreeate  $3,000,000,000. 
The  annual  interest  on  this  sum  at  six  per  cent  wc^d  be  $180,000,000.  If 
tiieM  men  should  s^  ifaeir  property,  and  invest  the  proceeds  in  bonds  and 

NO.  VI.  18 


266  ShoH  JReviews  (md  NMee$.  [Mansh, 

mortgages  bearing  six  per  cent  interest  per  annum,  and  remoTe  from  the 
country,  tbev  would  impose  a  tribute  on  the  productive  industry  of  the  nation 
which  would  impoverish  it  for  ages.  It  is  doubtful  whether  the  people  would 
ever  be  able  to  pay  and  satisfy  the  interest  and  principal  of  the  debt  They 
would  pay  $180,000^000  of  their  products  yeariy,  without  receiving  any  equiv- 
alent ^d  vet,  without  the  labor  of  the  buyers  or  borrowers,  me  property 
would  be  useless ;  and  if  the  owners  received  any  benefit  from  it,  they  would 
be  obliged  to  remain  and  cultivate  it  themselves.  Should  laws  be  such,  that 
ten  thousand  wealthy  men  leaving  their  country,  could  impose  such  a  burden 
upon  the  millions  left  behind  ?  u  interest  were  reduced  to  one  per  cent,  and 
the  ten  thousand  men  should  sell  their  property,  leaving  the  proceeds  on  in- 
terest at  one  per  cent,  this  nation  would  pay  them  $30,000,000  interest  annu- 
ally. And  this  would  be  quite  enoagh  for  producers  to  pay  for  the  use  of 
capital."— p.  94. 

"  Suppose,  when  Virginia  was  settled  in  1607,  England  had  sold  to  the  first 
settlers  tne  whole  of  the  United  States  for  $1,000,  and  had  taken  a  mortgage 
'for  this  sum  covering  the  whole  property.  Instead  of  paying  the  interest 
yearly  at  seven  per  cent,  the  settlers  agree  to  take  up  their  bonds  at  the  end  of 
every  six  months,  and  add  in  the  interest  Allow  the  $1,000  and  the  accruing 
interest  to  remain  outstanding  until  1850,  and  then  become  due.  Although 
the  prosperity  of  the  nation  h^  far  surpassed  that  of  an^  other,  yet  its  proper- 
tv  of  every  description  would  not  pay  the  debt  The  interest  would  double 
the  principal  in  ten  vears  and  one  mouth.  In  one  hundred  years  and  ten 
months,  the  debt  would  amount  to  $1,024,000;  and  in  two  hundred  and  one 
years  and  eight  months,  to  $1,048,576,000.  Add  forty  years  and  four  months 
to  1849,  and  the  sum  would  amount  to  $16,777,216,000."  — p.  115. 

He  says  that  less  than  one  twentieth  of  the  population  owns 
more  than  one  half  of  the  property  of  the  whole  land.  If  they 
have  done  more  than  one  half  of  the  needful  productive  work  — 
of  hands  or  head  —  this  is  right;  if  not,  wrong.  This  unjust  dis- 
tribution comes  from  high  rates  of  interest 

"In  1835,  the  whole  valuation  of  the  taxed  real  and  personal  estate  in  the 
State  of  New  York,  was  $530,653,524 ;  and  in  1845,  it  had  increased  to  $605,- 
646,095.  In  the  ten  years^  the  people  of  the  State  added  to  their  wealth  $74,- 
992,  571  — equal  to  $7,499,257  a  year,  or  a  fraction  over  dne  and  four  tenths 
per  cent  a  year  on  the  capital  employed." — p.  105. 

"  If  the  people  had  rented  the  State  of  a  foreign  nation,  and  at  the  end  of 
every  six  months  we  hud  taken  up  our  obligations  and  added  in  the  six  months' 
interest,  at  the  end  of  the  ten  years  we  should  have  added  to  the  principal  over 
$524,000,000.  We  should  have  owed  the  foreign  nation,  in  interest  or  rent, 
a  sum  seven  times  greater  than  all  that  we  earned  above  our  own  support 
If  we  earned  only  $74,992,571  more  than  our  own  support,  how  could  we  re- 
turn the  property  to  its  owners,  and  pay  them  $524,000,000  of  rent,  or  seven 
times  more  tnan  our  labor  would  produce  ?  Yet  the  laws  of  the  State,  fixing 
the  interest  at  seven  per  cent,  make  a  requisition  equal  to  this  upon  laborers 
in  favor  of  capital."  —  p.  106. 

"The  debts  yearly  contracted  in  the  State  by  sales  of  land,  merchandise, 
&c.,  amount  to  several  hundred  millions  of  dollars,  and  two,  three,  or  four  hun- 
dred millions  bear  interest  Must  not  the  payment  of  so  great  an  amount  of 
interest,  bv  producers,  concentrate  the  wealth  of  the  State  in  the  hands  of  a 
few  capitalists,  and  continue  more  and  more  to  oppress  producers  1  We  might 
as  well  expect  by  labor  to  dam  up  the  mouths  of  the  nvers  of  our  continent, 
so  that  they  could  not  empty  into  the  ocean,  as  to  expect,  by  labor,  to  contend 
successfully  against  the  power  of  capital,  even  at  two  and  a  half  per  cent,  in- 
terest, and  much  less  against  six  or  seven  per  cent  An  interest  of  even  two 
and  a  half  per  cent  per  annom,  on  ci^ital,  would  as  certainly  break  down  pro- 


1849.]  ShaH  Bwiem  and  Notices.  267 

dactire  indoBtiy,  and  accamtilate  the  wealth  in  fiivor  of  capita],  as  the  waters 
of  the  rtren  woald  oertainlr  break  down  the  dams,  and  force  thdr  waters  and 
the  obstmcting  dams  into  the  ocean."  —  p.  107. 

^  If  all  men  are  by  nature  free  and  equal,  why  has  legislation  reversed  the 
order  of  nature  so  as  to  secure  the  greatest  possible  inequality  ?  It  is  not  in 
the  power  of  man  to  continue  a  more  effectual  method  of  concentrating  prop- 
erty in  a  few  hands,  than  by  high  rates  of  interest  This  method  works  rapid- 
ly and  securely,  because  it  extorts  consent  as  it  operates.  If  civilization  re- 
2uire,  as  its  basis,  that  property  should  descend  from  father  to  son,  it  certainly 
oes  not  require  that  legislation  should  do  its  utmost  to  magnify  the  inequali- 
ties arising  from  this  right  of  inheritance.  These  inequalities  only  exist  be- 
cause the  whole  body  of  producers  are  obliged  to  pay  an  exorbitant  price  for 
the  yearly  rent  of  every  description  of  proper^ ;  and  why  are  they  obliged  to 
pay  this  price  ?  Because  the  rent  is  determined  by  the  legal  interest  on  money, 
the  standard  of  value,  to  which  no  individual,  nor  class  of  individuals,  can  offer 
successful  resistance." — pp.  141, 142. 

"*  In  consequence  of  our  higher  rates  of  interest,  the  property  of  the  United 
States  is  concentrating  in  the  hands  of  a  few  men  much  more  rapidly  than  in 
older  countries.  This  concentration  will  continue  until  the  rates  of  interest 
are  reduced  below  the  rates  obtained  in  older  countries."  —  p.  169. 

"  High  rates  of  interest  have  been,  and  are,  the  cause  of  the  poverty  of  pro- 
ducers in  all  nations."  —  p.  171. 

"  The  income  of  the  holder  of  English  government  securities  is  earned  b^ 
the  operatives  in  the  mines  and  the  factories,  and  by  the  seamstresses  and  vari- 
ous workmen  in  the  cities.  But  the  bond  bolder  comes  in  direct  contact  with 
none  of  these.  His  income  is  paid  by  the  government,  which  gathers  it  from 
every  branch  of  industry  in  the  country  by  grievous  taxations." 

"*  The  laws  of  the  British  government,  respecting  money,  as  much  compel 
the  producing  classes  to  toil  for  the  capitalists,  as  the  laws  of  the  Southern 
States  compel  the  slave  to  work  for  his  master."  —  pp.  172, 173. 

Mr.  Kellogg  shows  reasons  enough  why  there  are  many  poor 
and  few  rich)  but  he  undertakes  to  point  out  a  remedy.  He 
proposes  that  the  nation  should  found  an  institution  called  the 
National  Safety  Fund,  which  shall  issue  paper  money  and  loan  it 
at  one  per  cent,  a  year,  taking  real  property  for^  security,  and 
shall  also  receive  money  on  deposit  and  pay  the  same  interest. 

The  work  is  striking,  and  in  many  respects  is  original. 


5. —  The  Town;  its  Memorable  Characters  and  Events.  By 
Leigh  Hunt.  St.  Paul's  to  St.  James,  with  forty-five  Illus- 
trations. London.  1848.  2  vols.  8vo.  Vol.  L  pp.  xn. 
and  350.     Vol.  11.  pp.  viii.  and  312. 

This  work  is  written  in  the  agreeable  style  which  distinguishes 
all  the  works  of  the  author.  It  contains  a  good  deal  of  curious 
information,  and  is  a  valuable  hand-book  for  the  visitor  of  the 
great  commercial  metropolis  of  the  world.  The  changes  in  the 
outward  aspect  of  London  from  the  days  of  "King  Lud"  to 
Queen  Victoria,  are  nicely  delmeated ;  the  changes  of  Manners, 


Laws,  aad  Religion,  are  also  touched  npoo.  Tbe  fHstingiiighed 
men  who  have  lived  in  London  daring  the  many  centuries  <^  its 
existenee  pass  before  the  reader's  eje,  and  pleasant  stories  are 
related  of  some  of  them ;  still,  the  work  is  not  so  interesting  or 
so  valuable  as  one  might  reasonably  expect  from  the  subject  or 
the  author.  He  seems  to  have  been  resolved  to  make  a  book, 
and  has  done  so.  Mr.  Macanlay's  account  of  London,  though 
brief,  is  far  more  satisfactory. 


6.  —  A  DictwHory  of  the  German  and  EngiUh  Languages, 
Indicating  the  accentuation  of  every  Grerman  word ;  containing 
several  hundred  Grerman  synonyms,  &c,  &c.  Compiled  from 
the  works  of  Hilpert,  Fliigel,  Grieb,  Heyse,  and  others.  In  two 
parts:  Part  L  German  and  English;  Part  U.  English  and 
German.  By  J.  G.  Adler,  &c,  &c.  New  York.  1849. 
2  vols,  in  one.    8vo.    pp.  xvi.,  850,  and  522. 

The  Grerman-EngHsh  portion  of  this  work  is  more  valuable 
than  any  that  we  have  before  seen.  The  English- Grerman  part 
is  taken  from  the  London  edition  of  Dr.  Flugel,  without  alteration. 
We  only  wish  it  had  been  from  the  last  edition  of  Dr.  FlugeL 
This  Dictionary  of  Mr.  Adler  affords  all  that  an  American  or 
English  schdar  will  ordinarily  want  for  reading  the  German 
classics,  and  appears  to  be  as  complete  a  manual  as  Leverett's 
Lexicon  is  for  the  Latin,  or  Mr.  Pickering's  for  the  Greek  lan- 
goage. 


7.  —  Deutsches  Mdrchenbuch,    Edited  by  Ludwig  BscHStEiN. 
Leipsic.     1847.     1  Vol     12mo.    pp.  vni.  and  301. 

This  is  a  pleasant  collection  of  popular  stories,  legends,  and 
the  like.  Some  of  them  have  been  taken  from  the  mouths  of  the 
people,  and  never  before  printed.  Others  are  tolerably  well 
known. 

We  give  a  translation  of  the  first  in  the  book,  which  is  by  the 
Editor  himself. 

Once  there  was  a  time  when  there  were  no  little  stories  (Mar- 
chen),  and  it  was  a  sad  time  for  the  children,  for  the  fairest  of 


18490  SiortJt§mmmdIhti$e9.  «i 

IwUerfliet  was  wandBg  in  tbeir  Yo«th'»-£iMd]ae.  AaA  dMva 
were  two  children  o£  a  king,  who  were  playing  together  in  theiv 
ftither's  stately  garden.  The  gafden  was  full  of  m^|estic  flowers ; 
its  walks  were  strown  with  irarions  cok>red  stones  and  golden  sand, 
and  glittered  in  rivalry  with  the  sparkling  dew  on  the  flower-beds. 
In  the  garden  there  were  oool  grottos  with  plashing  waters,  foinn 
tains  roshing  high  up  towards  £Eur  marb^  statues,  and  lovely 
banks  to  lie  on  and  go  to  sleep.  Grold  and  silver  fish  swam  in  the 
basins ;  the  most  beautiful  birds  fluttered  about  in  great  gik  bird- 
hooses,  and  other  birda  hopped  and  flew  about  in  the  open  air, 
singing  their  songs  with  dear,  sweet  voices.  Bat  the  two  diildren 
had  all  this  and  saw  it  every  day,  &nd  so  they  were  tired  of  the 
glitter  of  the  stones,  of  the  sweet  smell  of  the  flowers,  of  the 
leaping  waters,  of  the  fish  that  were  so  dumb,  and  of  the  birds 
whose  songs  they  could  not  understand. 

The  children  sat  down  silent  together  and  were  sad.  They  had 
all  that  a  child  could  wish  —  oosUy  playthings^  handsome  clothes, 
pleasant  food  and  drinks,  and  every  cby  they  could  play  in  the 
beautiful  garden.  They  were  sad  —  they  knew  not  why,  nor 
what  was  wanting. 

One  day  the  queen,  their  mother,  came  to  them, — a  tall, 
handsome  woman,  with  mild  and  agreeable  features,  —  and  she 
took  it  to  heart  because  her  children  were  so  sober  and  only 
smiled  upon  her  in  a  melancholy  way,  instead  of  running  to  meet 
her  with  a  shout.  She  was  disturbed  because  her  children  were 
not  hai^y  as  children  should  be  and  can,  for  they  know  no  cares, 
and  the  heaven  of  childhood  is,  for  the  most  part,  without  clouds. 

The  queen  seated  herself  beside  her  children,  —  the  one  a  boy, 
and  the  other  a  girl,  —  and  putting  one  of  her  round  white  arms 
about  each  of  them,  said  in  a  motherly  tone,  *'  What  do  you  want, 
my  dear  children  ?  " 

^  Dear  mother,"  said  the  boy,  *'  we  do  n't  know  what."  **  We 
are  so  sad,"  said  the  girL  "  It  is  so  beautiful  here  in  the  garden, 
and  you  have  all  ^at  heart  could  wish.  Why  are  yon  not 
happy  ? "  said  the  queen,  and  a  tear  came  into  her  eye,  out  of 
which  a  kindly  soul  was  wont  to  laugh. 

«  What  we  have  does  not  give  us  joy  enough,"  said  the  girl ; 
and  the  boy  added,  "  We  want  something  and  know  not  what." 

The  mother  was  troubled  and  silent,  and  thought,  What  can 
the  children  wish  for,  to  make  them  happy,  besides  the  fine  gar- 
den,  these  handsome  clothes,  abundance  of  playthings,  and  agree- 
able food  and  drink.  But  she  could  not  find  out  what  it  was  they 
thought  of. 

'*  Oh  that  I  were  myself  again  a  child,"  said  she  to  herself,  with 
a  gentle  sigh.  **  Then  I  could  soon  know  what  would  make  my 
children  happy.  But  I  have  roamed  too  fwr  from  the  land  of  my 
youth,  where  the  gold  birds  fiy  through  the  trees  of  Paradise  — 


S70  Short  BmmoB  and  NMee8.  [March, 

those  birds  that  have  no  feet  because  they  are  never  weary  and 
need  no  earthly  rest.  Oh  that  such  a  bird  would  come  and  bring 
my  darlings  what  will  make  them  happy." 

And  lo,  as  the  queen  was  wishing  for  it,  suddenly  there  hovered 
over  her,  in  the  blue  sky,  a  wonderful  bird  ;  a  splendor  shot  out 
from  it  like  the  flame  of  gold  and  the  glitter  of  precious  stones. 
It  came  nearer  and  nearer ;  the  queen  saw  it  and  the  children, 
who  cried,  '*  Ah,  ah ! "  and  for  very  astonishment  could  find  no 
other  words. 

The  bird  was  very  lovely  to  look  upon,  as,  flying  lower  and 
lower,  it  sank  down,  so  shimmering  and  shining  with  a  rainboir- 
glitter,  almost  dazzling  the  eyes,  and  yet  attracting  them.  It  was 
so  beautiful  that  the  queen  and  the  children  shuddered  with  joy 
as  they  felt  the  waving  of  its  wings.  But  before  they  anticipated 
it,  the  wonderful  bird  had  alighted  in  the  lap  of  the  queen-mother, 
and  looked  at  the  children  with  eyes  like  the  gentle  eyes  of  a 
child,  and  yet  there  was  something  in  its  eyes  which  the  children 
did  not  understand  —  something  strange  that  made  you  shudder. 
So  they  did  not  venture  to  touch  the  bird,  but  they  saw  that  this 
strange  and  beautiful  unearthly  creature,  under  its  variegated  and 
glittering  feathers,  had  some  of  a  deep  black,  which  could  not  be 
seen  at  a  distance.  But  the  children  had  barely  so  much  time  to 
look  at  this  fair  and  wonderful  bird  as  it  has  taken  to  tell  of  it, 
before  this  bird  of  Paradise  without  feet  rose  and  shimmered, 
often  higher  and  higher,  till  it  seemed  only  a  colored  feather 
floating  in  the  sky,  then  only  a  streak  of  gold,  and  then  it  disap- 
peared, but  until  then  they  all  looked  at  it  with  amazement. 

But  oh,  wonderful,  when  they  looked  down  again  how  were  they 
astonished  anew.  In  the  mother's  lap  lay  a  golden  egg,  which 
the  bird  had  left  there.  Oh,  how  it  glittered,  so  green-gold  and 
golden-blue,  like  the  most  precious  Labrador  stones  and  Mother 
of  Pearl.  The  children  both  exclaimed  with  one  mouth,  "  Ah,  the 
beautiful  Egg ! "  But  the  mother  smiled  delightedly,  gratefully 
surmising  that  this  must  be  the  precious  thing  yet  laddng  for  her 
children's  happiness ;  the  egg  in  its  shell,  glittering  with  magic 
colors,  must  contain  the  talisman  which  would  assure  the  children 
of  that  contentment  which  is  denied  to  the  old,  and  would  quiet 
their  anxiety  and  childish  trouble. 

But  the  children  could  not  be  weary  with  looking  at  the  bcau- 
tiftil  egg,  and  in  that  forget  the  bird  who  brought  it.  At  first  they 
did  not  venture  to  touch  it ;  but  at  length  the  girl  laid  one  of  the 
tips  of  her  rosy  little  fingers  upon  it,  and  suddenly  called  out  — 
while  her  innocent  face  flushed  with  purple  —  **  The  egg  is  warm ! " 
Then  the  boy  also  carefully  tapped  it  with  his  finger,  to  see  if  she 
had  spoken  the  truth.  At  last,  the  mother  laid  her  delicate  hand 
on  the  precious  egg,  and  —  what  followed  ?  The  shell  broke  in 
two,  and  a  creature  came  forth  wonderftil  to  behold.    It  had 


1849.]        List  of  New  FubUcations  lUeeived.  271 

wings,  but  was  not  a  bird,  nor  a  butterflj,  nor  a  bee,  nor  a  dragon- 
fly, and  yet  it  was  something  —  only  not  to  be  described.  It  was 
the  child's  delight  with  vari-colored  wings,  glittering  with 
many  hues  -^  itself  a  child,  —  the  child  of  that  marvellous  Phan- 
tasy—  the  Story  (Marchen). 

These  children  of  a  king  are  mankind  in  their  Paradise  of 
Touth,  and  Nature  was  the  beautiful  tender  mother.  By  her 
wish  she  had  brought  down  for  them  tl^at  wonderful  bird,  Phan- 
tasy —  which  has  such  elegant  gold  feathers,  and  also  some  that 
are  very  dark,  and  in  her  lap  it  laid  the  golden  Egg  of  Story. 


LIST  OF  NEW  PUBLICATIONS  RECEIVED. 

University  Sermons.  Sermons  delivered  in  the  Chapel  of  Brown  Universitj, 
by  Francis  Wayland,  President  of  the  University.  Boston.  1849.  12mo. 
pp.  Till,  and  328. 

The  Artist's  Married  Life,  being  that  of  Albert  Diirer.  Translated  from  the 
German  of  Leopold  Schefer,  by  Mrs.  J.  K.  Stoddart,  reprinted  from  the  Lon- 
don edition.    Boston  and  Cambridge.    1849.    12mo.    pp.  xxiv.  and  258. 

Essays  and  Sketches,  by  Caroline  W.  Healy  Dall. 

"  I  have  besought  the  stan  with  tears,  to  send 
A  power  unto  me."  Fistus. 

Boston.    1849.    16mo.    pp.  Tin.  and  116. 

Pompeii  and  Other  Poems,  by  William  Gates  Dix.  Boston.  1848.  12mo. 
pp.  Tin.  and  160. 

The  Woodman  and  Other  Poems,  by  William  Elleiy  Channmg.  Boston. 
1849.     12mo.    pp.  IT.  and  92. 

The  Oriental  Bath,  a  Poem,  with  a  brief  outline  of  the  more  important  parts 
of  Hygiene,  and  Instructions  in  the  Use  of  the  Bath,  with  additional  Remarks 
of  Combe,  Andria,  Bell,  Slade,  Urquhart,  Savory,  and  Willis,  by  C  B.  Peck- 
ham,  Proprietor  of  the  Oriental  Baths,  Pelham  Street,  Newport,  K.  I.  Salntem 
felicitatemqae  promovero  frustraque  non  vixero.  Providence.  1847.  12mo. 
pp.48. 

The  Vision  of  Sir  Lannfal,  by  James  Bossell  Lowell.  Cambridge.  1848. 
12mo.    pp.  28. 

Rational  Psychology,  or  the  SubjectiTe  Idea  and  the  Objective  Law  of  all 
Intelligence,  by  Lanrens  P.  Hickok,  D.  D.,  Professor  of  Christian  Theology  in 
the  Theological  Seminarv  of  Anbum.    Aabum.    1849.    8vo.    pp.  718. 

Important  Doctrines  of  the  True  Christian  Religion  explained,  demonstrated, 
and  vindicated  from  Vulgar  Errors,  &&,  &c.,  being  a  Series  of  Lectures  deliv- 
ered at  the  New  Jerusalem  Church  in  Cross  Street,  Hatton  Garden,  London, 
by  the  Rev.  S.  Noble,  &c,  &c,  with  an  Introduction  by  George  Bush.  New 
York.    1848.    8vo.    pp.  XTi.  and  486. 

Golden  Gems  for  the  Christian,  selected  from  the  Writings  of  ReT.  John 
Flavel,  with  a  Memou:  of  the  Author,  by  Rev.  Joseph  Banvard.  Boston.  24mo. 
pp.  128. 

Man  shall  not  Live  by  Bread  alone.  A  Thanksgiving  Sermon  preached  in 
Newburyport,  Nov.  30th,  1848,  by  T.  W.  Higginson,  Minister  of  the  First 
Religious  Society.    2nd  Edition.    Newburyport.    1848.    l2mo.    pp.  12. 


272  List  qf  Nm  PMicaUoriM  Bemved.       [March. 

Leaves  from  Margaret  Smith's  Jomnial  in  the  FroTinoe  of  Massachiisetts 
Bay,  1678-9.    Boston.    1849.    12mo.    pp.224. 

A  Letter  to  the  President  of  Harvard  College,  by  a  Member  of  the  Corpora- 
tion.   Boston.    1849.    8vo.    PP*54. 

BemariLS  on  the  Science  of  History,  followed  by  an  a  priori  Autobiography. 
Boston.    1849.    12mo.    pp.  xii.  and  164. 

Proverbs  for  the  People,  or  Illustrations  of  Practical  Godliness  drawn  from 
the  Book  of  Wisdom,  by  £■  L.  Magoon,  author  of  '*  the  Orators  of  the  Amer- 
ican Revolution."    Boston.    1849.    12rao.    pp.  xii.  and  272. 

Selections  from  the  writings  of  James  Kennard,  Jr.,  with  a  Sketch  of  his  Life 
and  Character.  Printed  for  private  circulation.  Boston.  1849.  ISmo.  pp. 
XL.  and  308. 

Poems,  by  William  Thompson  Bacon.  Cambridge.  1848.  12mo.  pp.  v. 
and  276. 

Requisites  to  our  Country's  Glory.  A  Discourse  before  His  Excellency 
Greoige  N.  Briggs,  &c.,  &c,  by  John  Pierce,  D.  D.,  &c^  &c.  Boston.  8vo. 
pp.  62. 

Merry  Mount,  a  Romance  of  the  Massachusetts  Colony.  Boston  and  Cam- 
bridge :  James  Munroe  &  Co.    2  vols.    l2mo.    pp.  222,  and  252. 

Sechs  Theologisch-politische  Yolksreden  von  David  Friedridi  Strauss.  8vo. 
pp.  54. 

Der  politische  und  der  theologische  Liberalismos,  von  D.  F.  Stiaass.  8vo. 
pp.  16. 

Der  Romantiker  anf  dem  Throne  der  Caesaren,  oder  Julian  der  Abtriin- 
ige,  ein  Yortrag  von  David  Friedrich  Strauss.    8vo.    pp.  80. 

Heinrich  Ewald,  Geschichte  des  Yolks  Israels.  Band  UL,  Hiilfre  L,  pp.  484, 
und  Anhaoi;  Zu  B.  11.,  pp.  392. 

Yiehoff,  Goethe's Leben.    Theil  11.    pp.556. 


MASSACHUSETTS  QUARTERLY  REVIEW. 

NO.  VII.— JUNE,  1849. 


O 


'^^      Vq^^^'^^uaa/^    7J.\ 


Art.  I.— 1.  The  Zooist  for  1848.    London. 

2.  Journal  du  Ma ffnetUme:  Quatrieme  Ann^e.  Paris* 
1848. 

8.  Blatter  am  Prevorst.    Stuttgart.    1883-89. 

It  is  by  no  means  the  purpose  of  this  article  to  enter  into 
an  extensive  and  penetrating  criticism  of  the  detiuls  of  Mes- 
merism. Its  object  is  not  nearly  so  difficult  of  execution.  It 
simply  proposes  to  consider  how  far  the  phenomena  of  zoo- 
magnetism  do  really  deserve  the  serious  investigation  of  induc- 
tive science ;  to  convey  to  such  readers,  as  may  not  yet  have 
attended  to  the  subject,  even  as  a  literary  appearance,  some 
vivid  conceptions  concerning  the  sorts  of  things  asserted  by 
mesmeric  authors ;  to  pronounce  a  short,  certainly  not  an  un- 
charitable, and  if  possible  a  just,  scientific  judgment  regarding 
the  general  character  of  the  statements  of  the  science ;  and 
to  bring  the  universally  accredited  fact  of  the  mere  mesmeric 
sleep  or  trance  into  harmony  with  the  system  of  Nature,  so 
far  as  that  system  seems  to  be  understood. 

It  is  well  known  to  the  students  of  modem  British  literature 
that  Samuel  Taylor  CJoleridge,  the  "  inspired  charity-boy  "  of 
Charles  Lamb,  a  poet  of  deep-going  insight  and  most  musical 
expression  in  youth,  a  well  real  and  original  metaphysician  in 
manhood,  an  agonizing  divine  in  old  age,  and  altogether  one 
of  the  most  lustrous  of  modem  spirits,  bestowed  a  great  deal 
of  study  on  the  subject  now  ap^ached.  It  is  duly  recorded 
in  a  note  to  Southey's  Life  of  Wesley,  that,  after  having  con- 
sidered the  question  in  all  the  aspects  in  which  it  had  then 
been  presented,  and  that  during  the  course  of  nine  years,  he 
could  not  conscientiously  decide  either  for  or  against  the  claixsm 

HO.  vn.  19 


274  The  Methodology  of  Me9mmmn.  [Jane, 

of  Mesmerism.    It  is  worthy  of  notice,  however  that  the  word 
Me9merx9m  stood  in  the  vocabulary  of  that  time  as  the  sim  of 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  apparent  transference  of  one 
species  of  sensibility  to  the  organ  of  another  on  one  hand,  and 
the  faculty  of  farseeine  on  the  other ;  an  equivalent  which  is 
far  from  sufficient  for  me  symbol  at  this  time  of  day.  Further- 
more, Coleridge  did  undeniably  study  the  evidence  in  favor  of 
such  Mesmerism  from  an  unwarrantable  point  of  view.    For 
example,  he  examined  the  testimony  for  the  so-called  fact  of 
farseeing  in  inseparable  connection  with  the  theory  usually 
advanced  in  explanation  of  it ;  being  of  the  preiudged  opinion 
that  ^^  nothing  less  than  such  an  hypothesis  would  t^  adequate 
to  tiie  satisfactory  explanation  of  the  facts."    This  was  to 
investigate  the  grounds  on  which  an  asserted  tiling  was  made 
to  rest,  but  it  was  to  investigate  them  with  an  intellect  pre- 
disposed against  tiie  only  conceivable  idea  of  the  possible  fietct, 
and  that  was  to  investigate  them  with  an  intellect  predisposed 
agidnst  the  verv  possibility  of  the  asserted  fact  itself.    Yet 
the  evidences  of  Mesmerism  were  able  to  bear  the  scrutiny  of 
this  searching  and  not  uncolored  eye  :   They  were  ^^  too  strong 
and  consentaneous  for  a  candid  mind  to  be  satisfied  of  its  false- 
hood, or  its  solvability  on  the  supposition  of  imposture  or  coinci- 
dence ;  too  fugacious  and  unfixable  to  support  any  theory  that 
supposes  the  always  |)otential  and,  under  certain  conditions  and 
circumstances,  occasionally  actual  existence  of  a  correspond- 
ing faculty  (of  farseeing,  inseeing,  foreseeing,  &;c.,)  in  the 
human  som."    The  parenthesis  in  the  last  sentence  is  our  own. 
Every  body  must  be  aware,  of  course,  that  the  inquiries  of 
so  hungering  and  thirsting  a  student  as  Coleridge  always  was 
could  not  consist  in  attendance  upon  ever  so  large  a  number 
of  strav  lectures  or  BianceSj  or  the  perusal  of  the  half-literary 
pamphlets  and  paragraphs  that  constitute  the  staple  of  mes- 
meric literature  in  Great  Britm  and  America,  or  a  profes- 
sional glance  throu^  the  notorious  nusreport  of  the  French 
academicians.    "  Nine  years,"  says  he,  "  has  the  subject  of 
Zoo-magnetism  been  before  me.    I  have  traced  it  historically ; 
have  collected  a  mass  of  documents  in  French,  German,  and 
Italian,  and  from  the  Latinists  of  the  sixteenth  century ;  have 
never  neglected  an  opportunitj^  of  questioning  eye-witnesses 
(as  Tieck,  Treviranus,  De  Prati,  Meyer,  and  o^ers  of  literary 
or  medical  celebritv)  ;  and  I  remain  where  I  was,  and  where 
the  first  perusal  of  King's  work  had  left  me,  without  having 
advanced  an  inch  backward  or  forward."    Thus  and  after 


1849.]  The  Methodologjf  qf  Me$merim.  276 

SQoh  a  career  of  bookreading,  Ais  ^^  moet  spacious  of  modem 
intellects/'  to  repeat  the  epithet  applied  to  him  by  Thomas 
de  Quincej,  could  neither  bring  himself  to  accept,  nor  suffer 
himself  to  reject  the  statements  of  the  higher  order  of  ex- 
perimentalists and  observers  in  thb  dim  recess.  Yet  he  was 
a  scholar  peculiarly  qualified  to  ^ve  a  righteous  judgment 
in  so  complicated  a  controversy.  He  had  wrestled  with 
almost  evenr  science  one  after  the  other,  like  the  illustrious 
Goethe,  ana  not  let  them  go  without  leaving  their  blessings 
behind  them.  He  was  a  good  physiologist,  as  well  as  familiar 
with  all  the  points  of  view  from  which  the  higher  phenomena 
of  humanity  can  be  contemplated.  Hi3  late  posthumous  work 
on  the  Idea  of  life,  indeed,  exemplifies  the  most  singular 
familiarity  with  the  details  of  Natural  History,  Physiology, 
and  Physics ;  and  it  is  that  unspeakable  familiarity  wbch 
consists,  not  in  remembering  scientific  things  by  rote,  but  in 
knowing  them  by  heart.  Above  all,  he  was  a  truly  great 
master  in  Methodology,  or  the  science  whose  laws  are  the  rules 
of  scientific  discovery ;  for  one  may  venture  to  express  the 
matured  opinion,  that  Uie  dissertation,  prefixed  to  the  SncycUh 
pecUa  Metropolilanay  approves  our  present  hero  the  greatest 
English  writer  on  Method  since  Francis  Bacon  publi^ed  his 
Instauration  and  his  Organon.  Nor  needs  any  body  be 
ashamed  to  profess  himself  afiraid  to  speak  with  ridicule  or 
indifference  of  a  vast  fS^bric  of  statements  before  which  a  saffe 
so  good,  so  learned,  so  penetrating,  so  catholic,  and  so  candid 
as  Coleridge  was  obligea  to  pause  in  anxious  doubt,  after  nine 
long  years  of  research. 

This  example,  however,  conttuns  another  and  a  very  differ- 
ent lesson.  What  a  contrast  does  this  long-suflbring  skepticism 
present  to  the  easy  credulity  of  the  majority  of  proselytes ! 
Here  a  divine,  there  a  physician,  and  here  a  man  of  science, 
are  seen  eagerly  embracing  the  doctrine  and  the  allegations 
of  the  disciples  of  Mesmer,  without  any  thing  worthy  of  the 
name  of  methodical  investigation ;  but  because  they,  the  alle- 
gations and  the  doctrine,  appear  to  pass  at  once  into  easy 
consonation  with  this  or  tliat  crotchet  of  their  own.  The 
neophyte  of  the  New  Jerusalem  perceives  at  a  slance  that 
Mesmerism  is  unconsciously  though  essentially  Swedenborgian, 
and  therefore  Mesmerism  is  true  or  very  easily  proved  to  be 
so :  The  homo&opathist  soon  observes  that  mesmeric  cures  are 
all  reducible  under  the  rule  of  Like  to  Like,  and  therefore 
they  are  undeniable :  The  disciple  of  Schelling  is  delighted  to 


2T6  The  Methodology  of  Memerwm.  [June, 

notice  fliat  tbe  trance  is  an  emphatic  illustration  of  the  daaKty 
of  things,  and  therefore  fiiere  is  no  mistake  about  it !  Far 
be  it  from  us,  however,  to  insinuate  that  the  dualistic  scheme 
of  the  Universe,  Homoeopathy,  and  Swedenborgianism  are 
nothing  but  the  crotchets  of  tbe  visionary :  nay,  we  revere 
the  mighty  spirits,  who  are  represented  and  perpetuated  by 
these  outward  embodiments  of  their  potent  lives,  with  a  kind 
and  a  degree  of  reverence  which  can  be  shared  only  by  tbe 
St.  Pauls,  the  Keplers,  and  the  Aristotles  of  the  world.  But 
there  are  men  about  the  purlieus  of  the  Church  and  the  School, 
in  all  ages,  in  and  by  whom  things  the  most  sacred,  the  most 
beautiful,  and  the  most  important  for  their  truth  are  degraded 
into  crotchets  and  minims :  and  it  is  of  such  characters  alone 
that  we  have  dared  to  speak  with  some  severity  in  the  pres- 
ent paragraph.  Nor  is  such  severitv  unwarrantable,  for  the 
formation  of  a  candid  scientific  judgment  concerning  new 
presentations  is  one  of  the  most  sacred  duties  of  the  scholar 
and  the  student. 

But  what  shall  be  said  of  the  levity  with  which  so  many  of 
the  laity  have  espoused  the  cause  of  Mesmer!  We  have 
known  such  light-hearted  inquirers,  after  having  sped  their 
shaftlings  of  ridicule  at  some  Dupotet  or  Spencer  Hall  of  a 
morning,  attend  a  peripatetic  lecture  in  the  evening ;  and  no 
sooner  have  they  seen  a  fellow  solidified  in  some  grotesque 
attitude  upon  the  platform,  or  heard  his  head  played  upon  like 
an  instrument,  or  wondered  at  his  writhing  and  wriggling  in 
vam  towards  a  heap  of  money  the  audience  has  laid  upon  the 
table  for  his  reward  if  he  can  reach  it,  than  they  have  has- 
tened home  with  exultation  in  the  character  of  what  they  call 
BeUevers  in  Mesmerism.  Then  there  follows  a  crowd  of  the 
most  unmeaning  experiments,  witiiout  a  plan  and  without  a 
result,  without  an  initiative  and  without  an  aim.  Every  other 
chw  in  a  hundred  drawing-rooms  is  occupied  by  a  passive 
subject,  and  every  other  by  an  operator  more  passive  still  in 
reality,  for  he  is  only  one  of  fifty  straws  in  the  breath  of  a 
paltry  popular  delirium.  The  young  disciples  soon  proceed,  of 
course,  like  Gratiano  in  the  play,  to  ^'  talk  an  infinite  deal  of 
nothing,  more  than  any  man  in  all  Venice '' ;  and  the  city  is 
not  long  of  swarming  with  the  frivolous  convertites  of  the  new 
science :  — 

So  fools  rush  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread ! 

To  rise,  however,  to  things  and  thoughts  more  easily  asso- 


1849.]  The  Methodology  of  Memerim.  277 

ciated  with  the  venerable  name  of  Coleridge,  it  is  a  significant 
circumstance  of  Mesmerism  that  the  celebrated  Strauss,  a 
man  of  unquestionable  erudition,  of  the  most  laborious  habits 
of  study,  of  singular  coherence  of  thought,  and  the  most 
remarkable  system-builder  of  bis  age,  has  not  only  considered 
but  accepted  the  science.  The  people  of  Christendom  are 
becoming  aware  that  Strauss  has  shown  himself,  in  his  far- 
famed  Life  of  Jesus,  to  be  incomparably  the  most  formidable 
opponent  that  has  ever  withstood  the  popular  Christianity  of 
Europe  and  America.  That  singular  work  has  agitated  many 
of  the  best  intellects  in  the  world  to  their  very  foundations, 
and  moved  many  \)f  the  beet  hearts  to  their  most  sacred , 
depths.  Now,  one  may  reject  the  mytholo^cal  hypothesis  of 
the  history  and  the  present  phenomena  of  Christianity  in  the 
world,  as  it  is  exj^unded  in  the  wonderful  performance  at 
present  referred  to ;  but  nobody  can  blind  himself  to  the  fact 
that  one  of  its  very  strongest  points,  especially  for  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  mind,  re«des  in  the  use  the  ingenious  author  is  able  to 
make  of  his  reception  of  the  higher  phenomena  of  zoo-mag- 
netism.  It  is,  indeed,  an  incidental  and  supplemental,  rather 
than  a  systematic  one  ;  but  not  the  less  important  in  a  practi- 
cal point  of  view  on  that  account.  If  it  be  ^e  that  the 
paltry,  conscious,  intentional  Mesmerist  of  to-day  can  make 
water  taste  like  any  wine  he  chooses  to  his  subject  guests ; 
and  if  analogy  demands  the  consequent  possibility  of  making 
water  look,  smell,  and  touch  like  any  such  wine,  so  as  to 
become  veritable  wine  so  far  as  the  spell-bound  ptients  are 
concerned  ;  what  is  to  become  of  the  miracle  at  the  marriage 
in  Cana  of  Galilee?  If  the  mesmerized  do  actually  heal 
diseases  without  material  means,  or  with  only  such  amulets 
as  a  little  clay  lifted  from  the  ground  and  tempered  with 
q>ittle ;  if  they  can  see  athwart  tiie  earth  and  look  on  their 
antipodes ;  if  they  can  prophesy  the  future,  in  ever  so  limited 
a  range  ;  if  they  ever  become  so  intimately  coadunated  with 
such  as  are  put  in  communion  with  them,  that  they  share  the 
memories  of  their  unbosomed  victims,  and  read  off  all  that 
they  have  suffered  and  done ;  if  they  behoM  visions  of  the 
dead  and  the  angelic ;  if  tiie  mesmerizer  can  become  invidble 
to  them  at  his  will ;  in  fine,  if  they  sometimes  rise  superior 
to  the  centred  force  of  gravity  itself,  and  ascend  into  the 
hoscm  of  the  air :  who  shall  find  courage  to  deny  that  tiie 
supematuralities  of  Old  and  New  Testament  life  may  possibly, 
if  not  probably,  have  been  a  manifold  and  normal  manifesto- 


278  The  Methodology  of  Mewiermn.  [June, 

iion  of  certam  noble  faculties  native  to  humanity ;  Acuities 
overlaid  by  the  specific  functionalities  of  everv  other  nation 
than  the  peculiar  people  of  God,  and  among  them  awakened 
into  full  activity  oiJy  in  their  highest  men  and  women ;  facul- 
ties, the  morbid  ana  impotent  struggle  of  which  towards  de- 
velopment has  been  actually  going  on  in  almost  every  age  and 
country,  and  can  be  witnessed  by  the  curious  in  nearly  every 
district  of  the  world  to-morrow  or  the  next  day  ;  faculties,  in 
a  word,  which  are  destined  to  add  a  new  glory  to  life  with 
their  completed  efflorescence,  in  those  happy  seons  in  which 
the  Race  shall  be  drawing  near  its  first  or  terrestrial  goal ! 
It  is  true  that  all  the  things  contained  in  this  long  sentence 
cannot  be  attributed  to  any  one  author,  either  mesmeric  or 
theological ;  and  they  are  neither  to  be  inculcated  nor  repudi- 
ated at  present.  They  have  been  brought  together,  in  this 
instance,  solely  for  the  purpose  of  setting  forth  the  great 
importance  of  a  thorough  investigation  of  the  so-called  science 
of  Mesmerism,  whether  the  inquiry  is  to  end  in  the  utter 
rejection,  the  unqualified  acceptation,  or  the  critical  modifica- 
tion of  its  clsdms.  Nor  is  this  importance  not  deeply  felt  in 
quarters  where  the  impregnability  of  the  popular  Christianity 
is  a  thing  of  far  greater  moment  than  it  is  with  us ;  for 
Tholuck  of  Halle,  perhaps  the  greatest  of  the  theolo^ans  now 
belon^ng  to  the  school  of  orthodox  protestantism,  has  not 
onl^  become  convinced  of  the  general  truth  of  Animal  Mag- 
netism, but  he  has  actually  proceeded  to  speculate  and  write 
upon  it  in  his  own  way,  in  oraer  to  confront  and  do  battie  with 
the  pointions  of  such  as  Strauss.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is 
the  case  of  Professor  Bush.  That  ingenious  interpreter,  dis- 
satisfied with  the  common  way  of  conceiving  of  the  resurrec- 
tion of  the  dead,  and  holding  by  the  Bible  as  the  sole  and 
sacred  oracle  on  the  subject,  proceeded  to  reinvestigate  the 
scriptural  phraseology  concerning  it.  These  inquiries  into  the 
true  meaning  of  the  word  put  for  Resurrection  in  the  New 
Testament  soon  became  an  elaborate  examination  of  all  the 
language  held,  in  Testaments  new  and  old,  anent  the  nature  of 
man.  The  conclusion  at  which  our  philologist  arrived,  after 
a  careful  comparison  of  instances,  was  nothing  less  than  the 
proposition  that  is  implicitly,  if  not  very  explicitly,  inculcated 
in  the  holy  scriptures,  that  a  man  is  composed  of  body,  soul, 
and  spirit ;  the  soul  dUiffering  in  nature  from  the  spirit  quite 
as  much  as  from  the  body  ;  the  difference  between  the  three 
being  a  genuine  difference  in  kind.    It  se^ns  to  have  been  in 


1849.]  The  MModology  of  Me$mm$m.  2T9 

this  way  that  Mr.  Bush  developed  for  hhnself  the  conceptioa 
that  the  spirit,  or  godlike  element,  b  ensouled  in  or  invested 
with  the  soul,  just  as  this,  the  ensouled  spirit,  is  embodied  in 
or  invested  with  the  bodjr.  He  learned  to  conceive  of  the 
soul  as  being  the  spiritual  bodj  of  St.  Paul ;  and  then  the 
doctrine  of  tJie  resurrection  was  as  clear  as  dajr.  When  the 
bodj,  or  earthly  house,  is  dissolved,  we  have  the  soul,  a  house 
with  God,  around  the  indwelling  spirit.  The  body  stript  off 
by  the  serviceable  hand  of  Nature  who  lent  it  for  awhile,  the 
spirit  stands  up  within  the  shapely  soul.  This  upstanding  or 
anastasis  is  the  resurrection ;  and  the  moment  of  a  man's 
death  is  also  the  moment  of  Ins  rising  again.  This  is  not  the 
place  to  enter  into  controversy  with  either  those  views  or  the 
grounds  on  which  they  are  presented;  it  is  not  the  place 
either  to  dissent  from  or  agree  with  their  reviewer :  but  it  is 
very  much  to  the  purpose  to  observe  that  not  only  has  the 
Professor  found  additional  conviction  in  the  phenomena  of 
zoo-magnetism,  and  especially  in  the  hypothesis  he  adopts  for 
the  explanation  of  these  phenomena ;  but  these,  the  phenom- 
ena and  his  hypothesis  of  them,  have  been  not  a  little  instru- 
mental in  converting  the  hard-eyed  exegete  into  an  enthusi- 
astic though  somewhat  self-asserting  disciple  of  Swedenborg 
the  Swedish  Seer. 

The  mixing  up  of  the  phenomena  now  referred  to,  however, 
with  the  more  momentous  interests  of  theological  doctrine,  is 
by  no  means  confined  to  such  high-places  of  the  field ;  for  it 
is  undeniable  that  the  religious  opinions  of  many  among  the 
laity  in  Europe  ancf  America  have  been  disturbed  and  thrown 
into  dissonance,  if  not  seriously  modified,  by  their  vague  con- 
victions concerning  the  statements  and  experiments  of  the 
magnetist.  Such  disturbance,  it  ought  injustice  to  be  added, 
has  neither  always  nor  generally  been  of  an  ungenial  kind. 
It  is  competent  to  our  knowledge,  on  the  contrary,  that  not  a 
few  earnest,  if  unmethodical  inquirers  of  this  great  class  have 
been  dislodged  from  the  position  of  materialism  by  the  hints  of 
Mesmerism.  There  are  undoubtedly  many  of  these  slight  but 
eager  students,  whom  their  notions  regarding  such  amazing 
things  as  dearseeing  have  enabled,  for  the  firet  time  in  their 
lives,  to  peruse  the  New  Testament  with  patience,  respect,  and 
hope.  In  a  word.  Mesmerism,  be  it  what  it  may,  has  actually 
opened  the  Bible  to  thousands ;  the  Bible,  of  which  it  is 
enough  for  our  present  purpose  to  observe  that  the  history 
of  Christendom  has  demonstrated  it  to  be  at  least  the  most 


280  The  Mtthodohgjf  qf  Meimmmn.  [Jane, 

potent  manifestation  the  world  has  yet  beheld.  Now  it  ap- 
pears to  us  that  it  were  inhumane  and  disloyal  not  frankly  to 
accord  the  rights  of  an  impartial  inquisition  to  a  topic,  which 
is  working  such  serious  eflfects  in  the  depths  of  a  multitude 
of  our  brethren's  spirits.  Surely,  if  Mesmerism  can  be  and 
literally  is  brought  or  forced  into  connection  with  the  highest 
question  that  can  engage  the  attention,  the  sooner  Mesmerism 
is  tried  and  set  in  order  the  bettor  for  all  concerned ;  the 
better  for  its  more  crude  believers,  the  better  for  its  few  real 
investigators,  and  the  better  for  the  prudent  spectators  of  the 
controversy. 

It  is  not  only  Theology,  moreover,  but  Physics,  also,  that 
begins  to  be  entangled  with  Mesmerism ;  and  this  is  a  circum- 
stance very  much  to  the  point.  It  is  now  several  years  »nce 
the  Baron  von  Beichenbach,  a  man  of  experience,  an  elabo- 
rately trained  experimentalist,  a  chemical  analyst  of  acknowl- 
edged excellence,  and  a  discoverer  of  facts,  commenced  the 
indagation  of  these  subtile  and  escaping  phenomena  from  the 
dde  of  purely  physical  science.  Nor  do  the  results,  obtsdned 
by  this  patient  adept  in  the  positive  method  of  inquiry,  con- 
flict with  the  still  more  startling  things  asserted  by  t£e  authors 
of  a  less  sensuous  school.  He  seems,  in  fact,  to  have  redis- 
covered, in  his  own  more  cautious  and  ascendental  way,  many 
little  phenomena  which  have  long  been  known  and  alleged  by 
the  followers  of  Mesmer.  He  appears  to  have  found  that 
magnets  and  crystals  (or  statically  polarized  matter)  on  the 
one  hand,  as  well  as  light,  heat,  electricity,  galvanism,  and 
chemical  action  (or  dynamically  polariidDg  matter)  on  the 
other,  exert  the  most  unlooked-for  influence  over  the  nervous- 
systems  of  four  or  five  out  of  every  twenty  human  beings. 
Uhemical  action  going  constantly  on  within  every  visible  point 
of  the  animal  frame,  he  has  not  only  found  that  one  person 
may  affect  another  in  a  similar  manner,  but  supposed  that 
therein  resides  the  power  of  the  magnetic  operator.  He  has 
endeavoured  to  explain  the  vaunted  might  of  the  old  mesmeric 
biiquet  on  the  same  principle ;  on  the  principle,  namely,  of 
the  vast  amount  of  chemical  change  that  is  going  on  within 
it.  Like  Mesmer,  the  careful  chemist  has  been  forced  to  infer 
the  existence  of  a  peculiar  fluid  or  force,  resembling  but  dif- 
fering from  light,  heat,  and  the  rest  of  the  so-ciJled  Impon- 
derables, in  order  to  render  his  observations  coherent  and 
intelligible.  There  is  no  present  need  of  discussing  his  hypo- 
thetical views.    It  is  enough  to  take  cognizance  of  the  sigmfir 


1849.]  The  Methodology  of  Memerim.  281 

cant  fact  that  an  eminent  physicist  is  now  engaged  in  the 
study  of  phenomena,  long  included  in  Mesmerism,  from  ilie 
physical  point  of  view.  Nor  is  it  less  important  to  remember 
that  his  researches  were  introduced  to  the  worid  of  science 
under  the  auspices  of  Liebig  and  Wochler,  that  the  late  illus- 
trious Berzelius  has  reported  somewhat  favorably  regarding 
them,  and  that  his  experiments  are  of  such  a  kmd  as  can  be 
readily  repeated  by  any  one  who  chooses.  Suffice  it,  also, 
that  the  effects  asserted  to  be  produced  by  the  agents  enumer> 
ated  above  consist,  for  the  most  part,  of  peculiar  sensations, 
generally  more  or  less  obscure,  sometimes  very  pronounced 
and  even  pungent,  now  pleasurable,  now  painfull,  m  one  case 
distressing,  in  another  restorative  and  exhilarating,  but  always 
unique  and  unmistakable.  For  example,  some  of  his  patients 
see  beautiful  flames,  of  some  six,  eight,  or  ten  inches  in  height, 
twisting  and  turning  around  points  where  the  common  eye  sees 
noUiing  at  all ;  at  the  poles  of  strong  magnets  and  large  crys- 
tals, at  the  fin^r-ends  of  some  human  hands  as  well  as  about 
some  people's  lips,  at  the  free  ends  of  long  wires  the  moment 
the  other  ends  are  immersed  in  vessels  containing  substances 
in  the  process  of  chemical  reaction,  and  so  forth.  It  were  little 
short  of  an  insult  to  the  understanding  of  Reichenbach  and 
has  editors  to  mention  that  the  whole  investigation  was  con- 
ducted with  the  most  stringent  precautions  against  imposture 
or  illusion.  But  it  is  by  no  means  unbecoming  to  observe 
that  the  Baron's  earliest  subjects  were  chiefly  patients  either 
laboring  under  or  recovering  from  deep-rooted  diseases  of  the 
nervous-system ;  and  it  is  not  easy  to  escape  the  suspicion 
that  they  were  all  predisposed  to  such  disorders :  a  remark 
which  applies  with  equal  force,  however,  to  the  most  remark- 
able subjects  of  mesmeric  experimentation.  This  circumstance 
is  not  mentioned  for  the  purpose  of  derogating  from  the  value 
of  the  experiments  in  question,  so  much  as  to  render  iiie 
occurrence  of  such  exceptional  and  curious  things  more  intel- 
ligible, or  at  least  less  repugnant  to  the  maxims  of  ordinary 
experience.  In  case,  however,  any  body  should  draw  out  of 
it  an  argument  against  Von  Reichenbach's  procedure,  it  may 
be  well  to  qualify  it  by  the  statement  that  we  were  informed 
about  a  year  ago,  by  his  English  editor.  Professor  Gregory  of 
Edinburgh,  that  the  Baron  had  for  some  time  been  confining 
his  experiments  to  patients  apparently  in  a  state  of  perfect 
health,  that  is  to  say,  a  state  of  as  good  health  as  other  people 
enjoy.    At  that  lime  he  had  no  fewer  tlian  oxty  sound  minds 


282  The  MeAodohgy  of  Mewmenm.  [June, 

m  sound  bodies  testifying  to  their  perception  of  his  new  lights, 
and  permitting  themselves  to  be  used  as  dynamometers  for 
the  discovery  of  the  properties  of  his  new  preponderable  ! 

As  for  the  character  of  those  who  have  unreservedly  advo- 
cated the  cause  of  Vital  Magnetism,  we  are  distinctly  of  o{»ni(m 
that  the  body  of  mesmeric  authors  is  very  far  above  -the  con- 
tempt of  any  man  now  belonging  to  the  commonwealth  of  let- 
ters. In  Great  Britain,  mdeed,  there  has  yet  been  published 
nothing  remarkable ;  but  ihe  genius  of  Britain  has  never  been 
the  foremost  in  the  newer  and  more  vague  departments  of 
science.  It  holds  back  till  a  science  has  gained  a  rooting  in 
the  earth,  then  steps  forward  and  plucks  its  richest  fruits. 
This  proceeds  partly  from  the  national  caution  and  reserve, 
and  partly  from  the  essentially  practical  tendency  of  the 
national  mind.  The  English  intellect  cannot  go  to  work  until 
it  has  something  very  sensible  to  work  upon.  It  ignores  the 
embryotic.  The  merely  dynanucal  cannot  awaken  its  curios- 
ity. It  prefers  a  visible  somewhat  to  all  the  forces  in  the 
world,  it  swallows  sulphuric  ether  and  chloroform  with  avid- 
ity, but  it  rejects  the  thought  of  one  nervous-system  being 
struck  into  insensibility  by  the  reaction  of  another,  with  some- 
thing very  like  disgust.  The  stomach  is  its  type,  not  the  Iung0. 
It  likes  a  good  mouthful  of  its  subject,  for  it  cannot  digest  the 
air.  In  one  word,  it  mi^ht  have  been  predicated  that  the 
mind  of  England  would  have  been  the  very  last  to  accord 
any  thing  lUke  a  kindly  reception  to  such  chameleon's  food 
as  trances  and  clearseeings.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  how- 
ever, there  are  really  some  respectable  names  among  the 
British  authors  on  Mesmerism.  Mr.  C!olquhoun  is  a  man  of 
good  tnuning,  a  disciple  of  the  Scottish  psychology,  and  not 
unacqusdnted  with  anatomy  and  physiology.  Elliotson  and 
Engledue  are  capital  observers  and  clear  writers,  although 
their  pomt  of  view  is  lamentably  one-sided,  bein^  that  of 
materialism  ;  a  circumstance  which  will  certainly  vitiate  their 
doctrinal  conclusions  and  consequently  embarrass  their  writ- 
ings, even  while  it  does  not  diminish  the  value  of  their  observa- 
tions. It  must  likewise  be  granted  that  Chauncey  Townshend, 
Spencer  Hall,  Harriet  Martineau,  Atkinson,  and  Dove,  to  say 
nothing  of  Braid  the  hypnotbt  and  Eidiule  the  Indian  oper- 
ator, are  all  single-hearted  and  intelligent  lovers  of  truth  and 
man.  If  they  are  neither  philosophers  nor  possessed  of  very 
rare  scientific  endowments,  they  are  certainly  honest,  fearless, 
and  disinterested  people.  The  same  sort  of  tlung^  has  to  be  sud 


1849.]  The  Methodology  of  Memerim.  288 

of  American  authorship  on  the  subject ;  although^it  is  likelier 
to  receive  an  adequate  investigation  in  the  United  States  than 
in  the  mother^ountiy. 

It  is  to  France  and  Germany,  in  foct,  that  the  inquisitive 
student  must  turn  in  quest  of  the  veritable  authors  in  this 
strange  department  of  literature.  From  the  Marquis  Pujsegur 
and  Deleuze  down  to  Dupotet  and  Teste,  there  have  been 
hundreds  of  elaborate  productions  written  and  published  in 
Paris.  A  large  proportion  of  these  works  have  be^  com- 
posed by  men  engaged  in  the  study  and  practice  of  medicine ; 
and  all  of  ihem  by  men  of  education.  They  consist  chiefly 
of  details,  they  contain  innumerable  cases,  they  are  deficient 
in  classification,  they  generally  dispense  with  theoretical  gen- 
eralization altogether,  they  are  wortii  little  as  conclusive  peces 
of  inductive  research,  and  they  are  full  of  exclamation  ;  but 
still  they  argue  zeal,  probity,  philanthropy,  intelligence,  and 
some  degree  of  scientific  culture.  In  (}ermanv  the  (^iples 
of -Mesmer  are,  for  the  most  part,  of  another  order  altogether. 
Passavent,  Eschenmayer,  Meyer,  Ennemoeer,  and  Kemer  may 
be  taken  as  good  specimens  of  them.  They  are  studento 
possessed  of  such  an  amount  of  book-learning  that  there  are 
lew  of  our  men  of  erudition  but  would  show  like  dwarfs  be- 
nde  them.    They  are  industrious  in  historical  research  be- 

Cid  our  usual  conceptions  of  literary  industry :  Eschenmayer 
now  edited  and  mostly  written  some  fifteen  quarto  vol- 
umes on  the  subject.  They  iUustrate  their  cases  and  their 
theories  with  quotations  from  Plato,  Aristotie,  Plotinus,  and 
Proclus,  to  say  notlung  of  Pythagoras;  from  the  ancient 
literatures  of  Persia  and  of  India;  from  the  Egyptian  re- 
miuns;  and  from  the  Bible.  All  the  mystical  library  of 
medieval  Europe  seems  to  be  familiar  to  their  indefatigable 
fingers.  The  fathers  and  the  Rosicrucians  are  alike  laid  un- 
der contribution  by  these  relentless  inquisitors.  They  have 
consecrated  their  lives  to  their  labors.  The^  are  philosophi- 
cal rather  than  scientific,  descendental  in  their  method  rather 
than  mductive ;  but  they  are  also  the  faithful  and  humble  nar- 
rators of  the  facts  they  have  observed.  They  are  the  oppo- 
sites  of  the  Frenchmen.  They  generalize  to  excess.  Their 
speculations  are  profound,  far-reaching,  coherent,  and  beauti- 
ful ;  but  the  disciplinarian  can  descry  no  sufficient  basis  of 
fSe^ct,  even  in  their  own  pages,  for  such  singular  superstruc- 
tures. But  let  there  come  what  may  over  the  fortunes  of 
Mesmerism,  the  ingenious  student  is  certainly  warranted  in 


28S  The  Methodology  of  Mmnerimn.  QTtine) 

m^untsdning  fhat  it  is  impossible  for  any  candid  mind  to  reftise 
an  earnest  and  prolonged  scrutiny  to  a  body  of  evidence  that 
has  satisfied  ana  fascinated  men  of  so  much  philanthropy,  so 
much  perspicacity,  so  much  disposition  to  appeal  to  nature, 
talent  so  rare,  and  learning  so  vast  as  are  now  to  be  found 
among  the  Mesmerists  of  Europe.  Nay,  it  appears  to  be 
right  and  dutiful  to  declare  that  the  claims  of  zoo^magnetism 
appeal  no  longer  to  the  forbearance  or  the  charity  of  the  man 
of  science,  but  to  his  sense  of  duty  and  right.  The  sacred 
obligations,  of  the  critical  sort,  tiiat  lie  upon  the  professed 
scientific  leader,  seem  to  be  but  ill  understood  in  tiiese  boast- 
ful days.  He  should  learn  that  he  is'  a  priest  in  the  temple 
of  Nature ;  and  feel  that  he  stands  between  God's  semi-artio- 
ulate  creation  and  the  people.  He  is  the  appointed  guide  of 
public  opinion  within  one  domain  of  universal  interest.  It  is 
his  implicit  duty  to  be  on  the  watch  for  every  new  form  of 
truth,  or  even  important  error,  that  reaches  the  horizon  of  the 
times.  He  should  be  so  well  instructed  in  the  dignity  of  his 
calling  as  to  be  eicalted  above  the  employment  of  anger  and 
contempt,  denunciation,  and  ridicule,  ea  the  weapons  of  his 
cause.  The  world  expects  him  to  be  as  open  as  the  hemi- 
sphere to  ascending  lights ;  as  charitable  as  the  air  to  every 
coming  shape,  especially  when  appearing  in  something  like  a 
questionable  guise ;  and  as  cool  as  the  catholic  sky  itself  in 
judgment.  Above  all  men  he  professes  to  know  how  unfixt 
and  expansive  is  the  growing  system  of  knowledge,  and  there- 
fore above  all  men  he  behoves  to  be  the  very  soul  of  chivalry 
in  opinion.  The  spirit  of  Christian  chivsJry  is  wanted  in  the 
schools.  Why,  if  we  will  take  every  man  who  differs  from 
our  scientific  creed  for  a  foe,  shall  we  not  be  noble  enough  to 
borrow  an  epithet  from  Emerson,  and  C9ll  him  our  ^^  beautiful 
enemy "  ?  Let  us  imitate  the  gentle  knights  of  old,  salute 
him  first  with  courtesy  in  the  lists  of  honor,  cry  God  and  the 
Right,  and  then  have  at  him  with  courage,  but  not  witii  ran- 
cor. Let  us  fight  not  for  victory,  but  for  truth ;  and  rejoice 
to  be  vanquished  by  the  hero  who  is  dearer  to  truth  than  we. 
Would  not  so  gallant  and  manly  a  procedure  become  us  better 
than  the  obstinacy  of  a  theory  of  the  Universe  quite  made  up 
and  concluded,  than  the  sneer  of  imbecile  discipleship  to  some 
narrowminded  master,  or  than  the  indolent  conservation  of 
the  little  knowledge  of  this  ^^  ignorant  present  time  "  ?  Let 
us  for  any  sake  be  generous  in  the  entertainment  of  one  an- 
other's sincere  convictions.    At  all  events,  let  us  duly  pay 


1849.]  The  Methodology  of  Memeriem.  28S 

tiie  rererenee  of  an  undisputatious  ezsminatfon  to  tho  cher- 
ished opinions  of  eyery  large  number  of  our  fellows.  lies 
cannot  role  them.  It  is  only  by  so  much  of  truth  as  exists 
irithin  error  that  it  lives  ana  is  productive.  Let  the  mgenn- 
ous  critic,  then,  be  affectionately  curious  to  discover  what 
amount  of  saving  truth  there  resides  in  every  system  —  theo- 
logical,  philoBopUcal,  or  scientific  —  that  is  quicK  enough  with 
life  to  acquire  a  footing  in  the  world ;  sure  that  a  multitude 
of  sincere,  enthu«astic,  intelligent,  or  even  average  men,  » 
never  wholly  in  the  wrong. 

It  is  evident  that  the  system  of  statement,  denominated 
Mesmerism  in  the  gross,  is  in  these  very  circumstances.  It 
has  won  itself  a  standing-place  in  literature.  Its  disciples 
increase  in  numbers,  intelligence,  and  literary  power  every 
year.  In  Europe,  in  America,  in  India,  its  votaries  signalize 
themselves  by  industry,  energy,  and  beneficent  enthusiasm. 
To  bring  this  plea  for  a  fair  hearing  to  a  close,  it  is  surely  as 
manifest  as  the  sun  that  it  will  no  Icmger  do  for  sciolists  and 
fribbles,  be  they  collegians  or  what  sort  they  may,  to  push 
aside  with  a  contemptuous  word  that  huge  imbroglio  of  allega- 
tion and  belief  before  which  a  spirit  like  Coleridge  stood  ntife 
long  years  an  eager  skeptic :  which  opposmg  theologues,  suoh 
as  Strauss  and  Tholuck,  discuss  as  an  established,  i^t  imper- 
fect science ;  and  which  includes  philosophers,  men  of  science, 
physicians,  men  of  letters,  and  a  crowd  of  intelligent  people 
among  its  devoted  adherents.  As  for  those  frivolous  crea- 
tures, whose  nature  it  is  to  sneer  at  every  new  light  that 
climbs  the  zenith,  careless  whether  it  be  a  meteor  of  the  mo- 
ment or  a  perennial  orb,  they  had  best,  (to  borrow  one  drop 
of  gall  from  the  keenest  sarcast  of  the  day,)  ^^they  had  best 
take  themselves  off  at  once,  for  Nature  does  not  acknowledge 
them." 

We  shall  now  enter  on  the  second  part  of  the  task  before 
us,  namely,  the  conveyance,  to  such  as  need  it,  of  a  distinct 
conception  of  the  kinds  of  statement  advanced  by  mesmeric 
authors. 

It  is  necessary  to  premise  a  few  things.  The  brain,  the 
spinal  chord  or  marrow,  and  the  nerves  that  ramify  from 
and  to  them,  to  and  from  the  rest  of  the  body,  are  united  un- 
der the  collective  name  of  the  Gerebro-spmal  Axis.  This 
axis  may  be  roughly  divided  into  three  great  elements :  the 
cogitative  element,  the  sensitive  one,  the  voluntative ;  to  say 


The  Meihodohgy  of  Mesmeriitn.  [June, 

nothing  of  the'respirative  totct,  or  any  thing  still  more  ob* 
score.  The  first  is  the  bnun,  considered  as  the  material  min- 
ister of  intellection,  emotion,  and  propensity ;  these  coarsely 
defined  subdivisions  being  collected  under  &e  representative 
adjective,  cogitative.  The  sensitive  element  b  simply  the 
sum  of  all  the  nerves  of  sensation,  specific  and  general,  taken 
together  with  the  sensitive  columns  of  the  spinal  chord.  The 
voluntative  part  of  the  axis  comprises  the  nerves  which  sub- 
serve the  exercise  of  will,  together  with  the  motive  columns 
of  the  chord.  It  should  also  be  remembered  that  the  nerves 
of  sensation  and  voluntary  motion  are  spread  so  profusely 
over  the  body,  and  tiiey  branch  so  minutely  and  multifariously 
into  the  structure  of  every  tissue,  that  ^Beeland  makes  the 
striking  observation  that  if  it  were  physically,  as  it  is  mentally 
possible  to  dissolve  away  all  the  bony,  muscular,  cellular,  and 
vascular  substance  of  tiie  body,  and  leave  the  naked  brain 
and  spinal  chord  alone,  with  all  their  countless  ramifications  of 
nerve,  there  would  still  remsdn  the  full  and  shapelv  figure  of 
a  man ;  like  a  statue  cut  out  of  almost  bodiless  marble.  Now 
it  is  this  filamentous  image  which  is  thus  shed  throughout  the 
grosser  body  of  a  man,  that  constitutes  the  cerebro-spinsJ 
axis :  nay,  it  is  this  pure  cerebro-spinal  axis  that  is  the  verita- 
ble man  himself,  physiolo^cally  speaking.  The  bones,  the 
muscles,  the  skin,  the  tubular  vessels  of  all  sorts,  the  mem- 
branes, the  sheaths  of  the  nerves  themselves,  the  glands,  the 
hair,  are  all  so  many  supports,  and  riggings,  and  feedmg- 
tubes,  and  gas-pipes,  and  breweries,  and  roofings,  and  orna- 
ments of  this  superexcellent  cerebro-spinal  axis.  The  rest  of 
the  body  is  but  a  manifold  investiture  of  the  precious  nervous- 
system  within.  The  axis  reqmres  to  have  the  visible  images 
of  things  brought  full  and  clear  upon  it,  for  example ;  and 
straightway  there  is  a  littie  portion  of  its  substance  spun  out 
into  the  form  of  a  pearly  white  sheet  or  retina ;  a  globe  is 
built  round  that  suspended  surface,  chambers  of  liquors  and 
an  optical  lens  are  fitted  up  within  the  base  before  the  out- 
stretcht  curtain  of  nerve,  a  hole  is  left  in  the  forepart  of  the 
sphere,  and  a  transparent  sort  of  watchglass  is  glazed  in  the 
place,  the  back  of  the  retina  is  bedewed  with  a  dark  pigment, 
cordage  and  puUevs  are  fixed  to  the  whole  afisdr,  to  wheel  it 
one  way  and  another  like  a  telescope,  a  thousand  indescrib- 
able delicacies  of  contrivance  are  superadded  —  and  there  is 
produced  an  eye.  It  is  the  same  witn  the  rest  of  the  organs. 
The  nervous-system  is  the  true  body  of  tiie  soul. 


1849.]  The  Methodology  qf  Memerim.  287 

To  hasten  forward  from  these  preHminarr  observations,  and 
to  saj  nothing  of  such  minor  effects  of  Vital  Magnetism  as  are 
included  in  Reichenbach's  researches,  the  numerous  things 
described  bj  the  disciples  of  Mesmer  may  be  classified  under 
five  heads.  It  is  not  pretended  that  the  five  classes,  about  to 
be  defined,  comprise  all  the  statements  of  fact  that  have  been 
adduced  bj  these  writers,  but  thej  certainly  do  collect  and 
distribute  the  scattered  heap  of  matter  which  constitutes  their 
common  creed.  Our  classification,  indeed,  is  chiefly  intended 
as  a  means  of  brevity ;  but,  in  addition  to  its  literary  conven- 
ience, we  trust  it  will  be  helpful  to  the  uninitiated  reader  in 
another  way.  It  must  be  clearly  understood,  also,  that  each 
definition  of  a  class  is  by  no  means  closely  applicable  to  ev- 
ery fact  coming  under  that  class.  Each  classific  definition  is 
the  generic  description  of  a  multitude  of  recorded  statements 
of  cases.  The  word  Ro%ey  for  instance,  as  defined  by  the 
Botanist,  does  not  cover  the  particularities  of  any  and  every 
rose,  but  only  those  properties  which  it  possesses  in  common 
with  all  the  roses  in  the  world :  it  is  a  generic,  not  a  specific, 
and  still  less  an  individual  description. 
It  is  stated  and  accredited  by  the  Mesmerist :  — 
I.  That  when  two  nervous-systems  are  suffered  to  exert 
their  natural  influences  on  one  another,  in  favorable  circum- 
stances, one  of  these  nervous-systems  occasionally,  or  rather 
frequently,  becomes  non-cogitative,  insensitive,  and  involun- 
tative :  or,  to  state  the  thmg  as  it  more  generally  happens  in 
fact,  one  of  them  falls  into  a  state  more  or  less  approximate 
to  such  ultra-generic  or  ideal  condition.  One  of  them  ceases 
to  be  an  individual  for  the  time  being.  One  of  them  is  en- 
tranced ;  the  mesmeric  trance  being  totally  different  from 
common  sleep,  although  it  may  yet  be  found  to  be  intimately 
and  importantly  related  to  that  kind  of  death  in  life.  The 
circumstances  most  favorable  to  its  production,  apart  from 
nervous  disease,  are  the  existence  of  the  nervous-lymphatic 
temperament  in  the  subject  of  trial ;  the  shutting  out  of  strong 
light,  of  noise,  and,  in  a  word,  of  all  external  forces  which 
are  calculated  to  solicit  and  keep  awake  the  animal  sense  of 
self;  the  state  of  interior  bodily  repose  which  follows  the  di- 
gestion of  a  moderate  meal ;  and  the  use  of  various  manipula- 
tions on  the  part  of  the  experimentalist.  In  other  words,  the 
cue  of  the  operator  is  to  cut  off  the  solicitations  of  outward 
and  internal  sensation  as  much  as  possible,  and  then  to  pro- 
ceed with  the  employment  of  every  means  he  can  devise  for 


288  The  Methodology  of  Mesmemm.  [June, 

the  purpose  of  bringing  his  own  cerebro-spinal  axis  to  produce 
its  natural  effects  upon  the  less  forcible  axis  of  the  patient. 
Sometimes,  however,  one  imagines  himself  capable  of  subdu- 
ing his  superior  in  energy  of  this  sort,  and  the  intending 
fascinator  is  fascinated  by  the  intended  victim !  It  is  sup- 
posed that,  with  sufficient  perseverance  and  consent  on  bom 
sides,  one  of  every  pair  would  pass  into  this  sort  of  trance, 
after  exposure  to  such  mutual  influences,  ^^  with  all  appliances 
and  means  to  boot."  This  brief  description  is  that  of  the 
total  entrancing  of  one  of  a  pair;  and  it  will  be  apparent  to 
the  careful  reader  that  the  language  in  which  it  is  expressed 
is  not  technical  in  one  sense  of  the  word,  while  it  purports  to 
be  very  much  so  in  another.  It  is  not  couched  in  the  phrase- 
ology of  the  regular  Mesmerist,  because  that  phraseology  im- 
plies a  foregone  conclusion :  but  we  have  endeavoured  to  put 
it  in  words  as  naked  as  possible,  so  far  as  hypothesis  is  con- 
cerned. In  fact,  abjuring  the  dialect  of  the  science  of  Mes- 
merism, we  have  affected  that  of  the  science  of  sciences,  or 
methodology.  Renouncing  the  technicality  of  the  pleader, 
we  have  run  the  risk  of  an  excess  of  that  of  the  judge.  We 
have  accordingly  represented  the  mesmeric  trance,  a  word  that 
might  have  been  dispensed  with  but  for  the  carefulness  of  our 
definition,  as  nothing  more  nor  less  than  a  state  of  functional 
inactivity,  into  which  one  cerebro-spinal  axis  is  flung  by.  the 
neighbourhood  and  reaction  of  another  one,  when  the  usual 
impediments  in  the  way  of  such  natural  reaction  are  sufficient- 
ly diminished  or  altogether  removed.  Suppose  some  inter- 
fering force  were  to  stop  the  career  of  a  planet  round  its  sun, 
an  interference  essential  to  some  higher  manifestation  of  plane- 
tary life,  it  would  not  be  the  less  true  that  the  natural  action 
of  the  sun  upon  the  planet  is  such  as  is  fitted  and  intended  to 
make  it  revolve ;  and  no  sooner  should  the  interfering  force 
be  put  in  abeyance  than  the  retarded  planet  would  resume  its 
involuntary  race.  Again,  by  the  superinduction  of  another, 
a  higher,  though  a  more  specific  force  than  that  of  chemical 
affinity,  the  otherwise  impossible  frames  of  plants  and  animals 
arise  out  of  the  dust ;  but  the  moment  the  energies  of  that 
vivifying  power  find  themselves  neutralized  by  the  circum- 
stances in  and  through  which  it  works,  the  inferior  but  more 
hardy  agent  of  chemical  changes  reasserts  its  freedom,  and 
those  fine  tissues  crumble  into  dust  again.  Now  this  first 
class  of  mesmeric  statements  of  fact  simply  implies  that  there 
resides  a  force  in  one  of  every  two  nervous-systems,  of  a 


1849.]  T%t  Methodology  qf  Mtrnnerim.  298 

parely  nenrolo^cal  nature,  which  is  potentially  capable  of 
playing  the  basilisk  to  the  other,  of  paralyzing  the  other,  to 
use  the  phrase  in  its  etymological  ana  not  its  medical  sense, 
of  negativing  the  other,  in  a  word :  potentially,  bnt  not  actu- 
ally ;  or  rather,  not  actually  in  the  ordinary  circumstances  of 
atiimal  life ;  for  there  is  a  superinduced  somewhat  which  is 
generally  sufficient  to  preserve  the  weaker  firom  the  stronger, 
and  to  prolong  its  individuality.  The  weaker,  in  fact,  is  pro- 
vided with  an  interfering  force,  by  the  aid  of  which  it  offers 
continual  redstance  to  the  more  powerful  cerebrospinal  axis ; 
a  resistance  which  is  sometimes  altogether  vun,  as  m  the  case 
of  the  poor  bird  under  the  eye  of  the  rattlesnake ;  a  resist- 
ance, some  refining  Mesmerists  would  say,  which  is  never 
wholly  successful,  for,  even  when  no  sensible  approach  to  the 
trance  is  produced,  tiie  potent  brain  and  nerve  are  sure  to 
dominate  over  the  feebler  bv  th^  mere  force  of  superior  ner- 
vous energy ;  a  resistance  m>m  which  the  only  refuge  is  in 
sleep  or  death.  It  is  the  idea  of  the  perfect  trance,  however, 
that  has  to  be  considered  at  present.  All  the  so-called  higher 
phenomena  of  Mesmerism  take  place  when  this  trance  is  in- 
complete ;  or  rather,  when  it  has  been  complete,  but  the  pa* 
tient  has  more  or  less  partially  awaked  to  individuality.  So 
that,  in  a  scientific  point  of  view,  they  are  in  reality  the  lower 
phenomena,  if  they  be  phenomena  at  all  related  to  Mesmer- 
ism, and  not  accidents  troubling  and  perplexing  its  legitimate 
effects.  The  absolute  trance,  in  which  there  is  no  uiought, 
nor  any  possibility  of  thinking,  so  long  as  it  remains  entire ; 
no  feeling,  and  no  voluntary  motion,  is  the  highest  phenome- 
non of  the  zoo-magnetic  force.  The  other  appearances  occur 
in  those  who  are  partly  disentran'ced :  and  tkis  brings  us  to 
the  description  of  the  second  sort  of  statements  made  by  the 
Magnetists.    It  may  be  conveyed  in  the  proposition : 

n.  That  in  the  first  stage  of  disentrancement,  or,  to  speak 
more  classically,  disenchantment,  the  patient  is  in  such  a  con- 
dition that  a  touch  will  awake  one  of  hisphrenolorical  organs, 
while  all  the  rest  continue  locked  up.  Tnis  is  to  be  regiu*dea 
as  a  stage  or  degree  of  disenchantment,  notwithstanding  the 
&ct  that  the  untouched  organs  are  functionally  bound,  be- 
cause the  touch  of  the  operator  is  unable  to  open  even  one  of 
them  so  long  as  the  patient  is  in  the  perfect  trance.  It  seems 
to  be  a  stage,  the  existence  of  which  is  to  be  inferred  from 
the  experimental  test  alone.  The  fact,  that  a  phrenolo^cal 
organ  answers  to  the  touch,  is  the  sign  that  the  spellbound 

NO.  vn.  20 


290  *The  Methodology  of  Mesmeritm.  [Janei 

nerYOus-syetem  has  oome  out  into  it.  The  consequence  of 
the  state  and  the  touch  is  picturesque.  The  liberated  orgaa 
springs  into  solitary  activity,  unchecked,  unbalanced,  and  un- 
toned  by  the  natural  energy  of  the  remainder  of  the  cerebral 
organization.  When  the  organ,  or,  more  strictly,  the  gnomon 
of  Veneration  is  discharged,  the  patient  instantiy  Ms  into  the 
attitude  and  expression  of  adoration ;  and  that  not  only  un- 
consciously, but  with  a  degree  of  character  quite  inimitable 
by  the  actor,  and  approaching,  as  nearly  as  an  everyday  or- 
ganisation can  do  so,  to  one's  ideal  of  the  saintiy  nature  when 
under  the  sway  of  an  ecstacy  of  worship.  As  soon,  however, 
as  Veneration  is  suffered  to  elapse  mto  bondage,  and  the  gno- 
DMHi  of  Gombativeness  is  set  free,  the  seeming  saint  is  trans- 
muted into  the  effigies  of  a  ruffian ;  but,  if  Time,  Tune,  and 
Language  are  played  upon  together,  the  villsdn  is  dissolved  in 
song :  and  so  forth.  It  is  of  ^course  a  condition  of  the  possi- 
ble truth  of  this  kind  of  statement  that  Phrenology  be  found- 
ed in  nature ;  Phrenology,  however,  not  as  a  doctrine  of  the 
constitution  of  man,  but  only  as  a  system  of  physiognomy ; 
Phrenology  not  as  organology,  but  as  organoscopy.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  the  admissibility  of  such  statements,  that  is  to 
say,  that  the  gnomon  of  Veneration,  for  instance,  be  the  source 
of  all  the  conditions  essential  to  the  manifestation  of  worship ; 
it  were  enough  that  the  gnomon  in  question  be  a  source  of 
some  of  these  essential  conditions.  To  take  a  major  example, 
it  is  undeniable  that  the  brain  furnishes  conditions  of  the  show- 
bg  forth  of  human  character ;  but  that  is  a  very  different 
proposition  from  that  which  describes  the  brain  as  the  organ 
of  tiiought.  The  greater  part  of  the  world  of  thinkers,  and 
that  in  every  sense  of  the  adjective,  is  of  opinion  that  thought 
proceeds  through  the  brain,  not  from  it.  A  Mesmerist,  ac- 
cordingly, who  \a  not  a  materialist,  but  who  perceives  that  all 
his  phenomena  are  connected  with  the  nervous-system,  would 
rationalize  on  this  class  of  facts  somewhat  in  this  way :  It  is 
the  nervous-system  that  is  paralyzed,  the  spirit  is  intact,  its 
activity  is  unwearied,  it  is  ever  ready  to  burst  into  any  and 
every  kind  of  action,  and  the  instant  an  exit  is  opened  in  this 
cerebral  gnomon  or  in  that,  its  energies  are  displayed;  the 
music  it  makes  being  that  of  the  instrument  unsealed.  Those 
magnetists,  on  the  other  hand,  who  regard  their  act  as  psychi- 
cal rather  than  phrenological,  reject  this  class  of  statements, 
or  rather  they  resolve  them  into  another  one,  which  will  bfe 
defined  below.    The  school  of  Mesmerism  is  actually  divided 


1849.]  The  Methodology  of  Meemerim.  291 

into  these  &ree  sections,  so  far  as  phreno-magnetism  is  con* 
cemed.  Engledne  is  a  specimen  of  the  thoroughgoing  phre- 
nologisty  we  take  Ennemoser  to  be  an  illustration  of  what  we 
would  cbII  the  gnomonolog^t,  and  Colquhoun  exemplifies  the 
psychologist  in  this  question.  It  is  no  business  of  ours  to  en- 
ter into  tiie  merits  of  the  controyersj :  suffice  it  that  almost 
everj  body  has  witnessed  some  of  the  experiments  with  which 
it  is  connected. 

lU.  The  third  class  of  assertions  put  forth  by  our  enthu- 
uasts  is  this:  That  in  another  degree,  or  perhaps  another 
kmd  of  disenchantment,  there  is  established  a  community  of 
sensation  between  the  person  mesmerised  and  the  mesmeriser, 
or  between  the  former  and  some  substitute  for  the  latter. 
What  is  perceived  as  a  sensation  by  the  latter  is  shed  over  to 
the  former  nervous-system.  The  operator  sips  a  glass  of 
wine,  and  the  other  member  of  this  singular  pair  begins  to 
move  his  tongue  upon  his  palate,  opens  and  shuts  his  lips,  and 
looks  in  every  way  as  if  he  were  tasting  the  generous  liquor. 
If  salt  be  put  upon  the  tongue  of  the  manipulator,  the  subject 
spits  it  out ;  and  so  on.  The  patient  will  occasionally  even 
analyze  a  composite  flavor,  and  put  the  analysis  into  words,  if 
properly  managed.  We  remember  seeing  a  case  in  which 
the  experimentalist  took  a  mouthful  of  alum-water  nuxed  with 
sulphuric  acid ;  and  forthwith  the  patient  twisted  her  lips  and 
compressed  her  nostrils  under  the  distant  influence  of  the 
compound  abomination,  muttering  ^^  It  is  sour ;  It  is  bitter.'^ 
The  last  sentence  is  by  no  means  contributed  even  as  aa 
infinitesimal  moiety  of  evidence  in  favor  of  this  kind  of  thing. 
We  distrust  our  unaccustomed  powers  of  observation,  in  thii^ 
complicated  sphere  of  investigation,  too  much  to  attach  the 
smallest  fraction  of  value  to  any  thing  we  nught  say,  oS  the 
experimental  sort,  under  any  of  these  classific  heads  of  ours. 
It  might  have  been  added,  tiiat  the  experiment  was  made  with 
rigor  and  scrupulosity,  but  not  that  we  considered  ourselves 
competent  judges  of  what  constitutes  sufficient  scrupulosity 
and  rigor  in  such  complex  and  important  circumstances ;  and 
happily  it  is  of  no  moment,  for  the  incident  has  been  adduced* 
wholly  for  the  literary  purpose  of  bringing  out  the  distinctive 
character  of  this  class  of  so-called  facts. 

lY.  The  next  kind  of  phenomenon  said  to  be  frequentiy 
exhibited  by  patients  in  a  certain,  but  as  yet  quite  indeter- 
minate, degree  of  deliverance  from  the  state  of  total  trance^ 
is  like  the  last.    It  is  the  same  as  the  last,  indeed,  with  some?- 


292  The  Mahodohssf  of  MemerUm.  [Jane, 

tfamg  nmch  more  astoniBhine  saperindaoed  upon  it.  In  reali- 
tj  there  seems  to  be  no  sudden  trttudiion  from  grade  to  grade 
in  tins  reawaking.  The  ascent  from  this  Hades  is  not  a  statr 
bat  an  molmed  plane.  One  patient  is  prcme  to  stop  at  one 
point,  ano&er  at  another,  of  the  dim4it  sjoral.  The  numer- 
oos  eases  on  record  are  accordingly  found  to  glide  mto  one 
another,  when  conndered  from  a  cntical  pdnt  of  view ;  but 
some  classification  is  necessary.  The  phenomenon  allocated 
to  this  fourth  class  of  ours,  then,  consisto  in  the  circumstance 
that  not  only  the  sensations,  but  also  the  conceptions  and  vo- 
litions of  the  operator  are  transfused  mto  the  subject  member 
of  the  pair.  When  the  former  nps  some  wine,  the  lattor 
tastos  it  too,  but  that  is  not  always  the  whole  8cq>e  of  this 
curious  communion ;  for  it  frequently  occurs  that  when  the 
mesmeriser  only  conceives  of  wine  with  vividness  and  intono- 
ty,  the  thought  of  wine  is  transferred  to  the  patient.  In  such 
examples  it  is  alleged  that,  the  operator  reproducing  a  lively 
image,  say  it  were  the  image  of  some  deceased  or  absent 
fnend  or  foe,  a  fiednt  but  true  phrenotype  of  that  person  is 
impressed  on  the  cerebro-spinal  axis  of  the  subject  in  this  de- 
gree of  the  mesmeric  trance.  In  a  word,  were  any  pw  to 
&11  into  this  particular  species  of  mutual  relation  in  its  ideal 
perfection,  then  the  planetary  nervous^ystem,  the  patient, 
namely,  would  share  all  the  co^tative  movements  of  the  solar 
one.  This  is  called  the  phenomenon  oi  douUe  consciousness; 
and  the  reader  will  now  easily  understand  how  the  psychologi- 
es Mesmerists,  as  we  have  designated  them  for  the  sake  of 
distinctness,  refer  the  so-called  instances  of  phreno-magnetism 
to  this  class.  They  mamtain  that  either  the  operator,  or  some 
one  in  the  room,  is  of  necessity  aware  of  what  phrenolo^cal 
organ  is  being  touched ;  an  act  of  expectation,  if  not  of  voli- 
tion, accompanies  this  knowledge ;  and,  in  virtue  of  the  (un- 
deniable) fkct  of  common  consciousness,  the  hope  or  the  wish, 
connected  with  the  very  intention  of  touching  mis  gnomon  or 
that,  is  not  disappointed.  It  is  on  the  same  principle  that  the 
staunchest  members  of  this  section  of  the  zoo-magnetic  school 
-expltun  the  greater  portion  of  what  is  contuned  in  the  revela- 
tions of  the  Poughkeepsie  seer.  The  people  about  him  were 
medical  men,  Swedenbor^ans,  new-light  Unitarians^  Mesmer* 
ists,  students  of  such  books  as  are  contained  in  Chapman's 
catholic  series,  readers  of  popular  scientific  books,  and  partic- 
ularly of  that  unwise  work,  the  "  Vestiges  of  the  Natural  His- 
tory of  Creation  " ;  in  fine,  enthusiasts,  but  not  highly  culti- 


1849.]  The  Methodohgf  of  Mgimemm.  29S 

Tsted  ones,  men  of  progress  bat  not  men  of  substantial  habits 
of  study ;  a  company,  howeyer,  one  might  say,  of  the  hal^ 
educated  laity  corresponding  with  what  is  perhaps  the  best 
ehss  of  scholars  now  in  the  world.  The  notions  of  such  a 
band,  gathered  into  a  focus  withm  the  bram  of  the  poor  hid^ 
and,  after  due  commingling  with  his  natire  rays,  reflected  on 
the  wondering  retinas  of  his  witnesses,  seem  to  have  been 
the  raw-matenal  of  light  from  which  these  Pou^eepae  il- 
kminalions  were  spun.  Such,  at  least,  is  the  Judgment  of 
such  Mesmerists  as  hold  by  the  present  class  of  facts,  while 
they  reject  phreno-magnetism  together  with  spirit^eeing,  in- 
spration,  and  the  like.  In  so  for  as  our  present  purpose  is 
concerned,  phreno^magnetism  is  quite  as  acceptable  as  double 
consciousness;  but  a  double  consciouoiess  admitted  for  the 
sake  of  argument,  it  certainly  appears  to  cover  Ae  case  of 
Jackson  sufficiently  well.  The  ilhterate  character  of  the  book, 
even  after  the  devoted  scribe's  redaction,  the  utter  absence  of 
dther  scientific  or  poetic  method  from  its  motley  page,  and 
especially  its  want  of  simplicity,  are  all  in  favOT  of  such  aa 
interpretation.  But  the  horrid,  hall^igested  bits  of  Sweden- 
borg,  Hchte's  popular  works  done  into  English,  DavVs  in- 
congruous dream  m  the  "  Last  Days  of  a  Philosopher,^'  Tay- 
lor's "  Physical  Theory  of  a  Future  life,"  the  "  Vestiges,"^  and 
Mesmerism  itself,  are  enough  not  only  to  nauseate  the  curious, 
but  also,  one  would  have  thought,  to  lower  the  pulse  of  the 
enthusiastic.  This  disgusting  figure  of  speech,  however,  is 
justified  only  by  the  revolting  pretensions  with  which  the  book 
was  ushered  into  public  notice.  Considered  in  itself,  it  is  a 
curious  and  even  an  interesting  production. 

V.  The  fifth  class  of  those  statements  of  fact  which  have 
been  reiterated  by  the  continuators  of  Mesmer,  is  the  most 
startiing  of  them  all.  The  very  suppoation  that  it  may  be 
true,  is  calculated  to  fill  the  mind  with  awe.  Even  those  who 
laugh  at  it,  as  one  of  the  oddest  of  human  mistakes,  cannot 
divest  themselves  of  the  sense  of  its  sublimity  as  a  fiction,  if 
it  be  no  more.  It  is  the  large  and  varied  set  of  averments  in- 
cluded under  the  general  denomination  of  clearseeing,  or,  as 
we  shall  call  it,  farseeing.  According  to  all  accounts  it  seems 
to  be  dimseeing,  rather  than  clearseeing,  at  all  events.  It 
is  dimseeing  to  extraordinary  distances.  It  is  always  seeing 
to  a  distance ;  for,  if  it  be  true  that  a  patient  ever  saw  into 
his  own  lungs,  or  into  the  brain  of  another  man,  he  may  be 
said  to  have  seen  to  as  unusual  a  distance  as  if  he  had  seen 


294  The  Methodology  of  MewierUm.  [June, 

the  insido  (^  the  moon.  We  speak  of  a  shrewd  fellow  seeing 
as  £Eir  through  a  millstone  as  another,  although  the  thickness 
(tf  that  instrument  is  not  many  inches.  Opacity  is  the  lit- 
erary equivalent  of  space  m  such  an  instance.  ]Ekigli8h  au- 
thors should  accordingly  write  about  this  asserted  fact  as  the 
phenomencm  of  farseeing,  if  they  wish  to  be  at  once  correct 
and  idiomatic.  It  is,  perhaps,  a  pity  that  a  figure  of  speech 
deri?ed  from  the  eye  was  ever  employed  at  all.  It  would 
cerUunly  have  been  more  scientific  to  have  signalized  the  phe- 
nomenon as  that  of  immediate  perception,  or  some  such  thing: 
but  fEurseeing  is  good  enough  for  the  purposes  now  in  hand. 

In  this  Und  of  partial  disenchantment,  the  patient  enters 
easily  into  conversation  with  the  person  tiiat  is  put  in  relation 
with  him.  If  she  is  de^ed  by  the  latter  to  inspect  his  liver, 
she  does  it ;  and  she  reports  her  findings  in  infantile,  impei^ 
jfect,  but  not  inexpressive  language.  If  requested  to  go  to  a 
nei^bouring  city,  and  discover  how  some  friend  of  the  intei^ 
locutor's  is  engaged,  she  will  do  so  in  a  trice.  She  will  look 
to  India  as  readily  as  across  the  street,  and  report  the  Mexi- 
can war  with  as  much  fidelity  and  facility  as  the  quarrel  of  a 
pair  of  gossips  over  the  way. 

I  'U  pat  ft  ^rdle  roand  about  the  earth 
In  forty  mmates  I 

There  is  a  society  at  present  in  a  state  of  activity  on  the 
continent  of  Europe,  in  which  they  are  sending  their  happy 
patients  to  Venus  and  the  Moon,  as  well  as  the  rest  of 
the  planets,  including  Neptune.  The  strange  thing  which 
these  voluntary  academicians  assert  and  reassert  is  this: 
That  patient  after  patient  gives  substantially  the  same  ac- 
counts of  the  same  planets,  and  that  in  circumstances  where 
collusion  seems  to  be  impossible.  Now,  if  a  hundred  patients 
describe  the  surface  of  Venus  as  sometiiing  very  unique,  and 
if  all  the  hundred  give  the  same  description,  it  must  certainly 
^^  puzzle  the  will "  of  the  poor  experimentalist !  Many  of  our 
readers  have  doubtiess  been  gravelled  by  such  vaticmations. 
Were  it  our  cue,  we  could  amuse  them  with  our  own  experi- 
ence of  these  lucid  states,  as  they  are  sometimes  callea,  of 
the  artificial  ecstatic.  Our  sole  object,  however,  is  to  draw  a 
clear  outline  of  this  miraculous  system  of  statement  as  it  oc- 
curs in  books ;  satisfied  that  every  body  who  is  familiar  with 
the  literature  of  the  subject,  will  idlow  these  definitbns  to  be 
not  only  moderate,  but  even  subdued.    They  are  very  far,  at 


1849.]  The  Methodology  qf  Memerim.  296 

all  e?6nt8,  from  being  overcharged.  We  exclude  from  the 
classification  a  number  of  things  still  more  unlikelj,  when 
considered  from  the  point  of  common  experience,  than  any  of 
those  which  have  been  mentioned ;  and  that  upon  the  just 
principle  that  the  majority  of  mesmeric  authors  themselves  do 
not  receive,  if  thev  do  not  reject  them.  They  do  not  fSuriy 
belong  to  the  creed  of  the  body  of  magnetic  authorship.  We 
refer  to  instances  in  which  patients  have  been  represented  as 
sharing  the  memories,  as  well  as  the  sensations  and  present 
consciousness  of  their  mesmeric  opposites,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
tell  them  what  manner  of  life  they  have  led ;  instances  in 
which  the  g^  of  prophecy  has  been  said  to  be  superadded  to 
double  memory  and  farseeing ;  instances  of  daily  communion 
with  the  world  of  spirits,  supposed  to  be  mterdiffused  through 
that  which  we  inhabit ;  instances  of  patients  speaking  in  un- 
known tongues,  intelligible  to  other  ecstatics;  instances,  in 
fine,  of  every  sort  of  wonder  that  has  yet  been  recorded  in 
the  early  literatures  of  the  world.  Before  dismissing  this  list 
with  a  smile,  it  should  be  remembered  as  very  curious  m  a 
literary  point  of  view,  that  Zschokke,  the  well-known  Swiss 
author,  a  patriotic  politician,  and  a  very  worthv  man,  has  duly 
recorded  the  fact,  m  his  Autobiography,  that  he  was  the  sub- 
lect  of  double  memory  several  times  in  the  course  of  his  life. 
Without  any  preparation  or  expectation  on  his  part,  he  several 
times  fell  into  relations,  now  with  one  person,  then  with  an- 
other, of  such  a  sort  tiuit  he  seemed  to  remember  bygone 
years  for  that  person  as  well  as  for  himself.  Never  having 
seen  nor  heard  of  them  before,  he  suddenly  became  the  partic- 
ipator of  their  past  experiences,  in  so  far  as  these  were  con- 
nected with  memory ;  and  he  often  put  it  to  the  test  by  asking 
fliem  if  so-and-so  had  happened  to  them,  at  such-and-such  a 

Elace,  in  thisK>r-that  year !  For  particulars,  the  reader  must 
ave  recourse  to  the  pious  and  excellent  story-teller's  own 
delightful  pages.  It  is  but  fair,  in  the  meantime,  to  give  the 
ultra-mesmerists  the  advantage  of  such  support  as  is  to  be  de- 
rived from  the  wide-spread  reputation,  the  undoubted  ability, 
and  the  acknowledged  probity  of  the  celebrated  Swiss. 

Such,  then,  are  five  kinds  of  phenomena,  affirmed  to  be  very 
firequently  produced  by  the  natural  influence  of  more  energet- 
ic nervous-systems  upon  feebler  ones ;  the  perfect  trance,  the 
j^eno-magnetic  trance,  the  trance  of  double  sensation,  that 
of  double  consciousness,  and  that  of  farseeing :  to  which  may 
one  day  be  added  that  of  double  memory,  to  be  put  before 


296  The  MeOiodologti  of  Hkimeriim.  [Jane, 

liie  last  one ;  that  of  prediction  to  be  put  after  it ;  that  of 
smritrseeing  after  the  manner  of  Swedenborg  next ;  and  then 
that  consummated  ecstasy,  in  which  the  blessed  subject  of 
enchantment  shall  seize  the  universal  speech  of  heaven ! 

But  now  the  question  is,  Will  jou  believe  all  these  five 
things  ?  The  reader  is  perhaps  disposed  to  ask  us  if  we  be- 
lieve them  all  ourselves  ?  Nor  is  the  answer  far  to  seek.  It 
is  briefly  and  distinctly  as  follows. 

Let  tiie  first  of  the  classes  be  kept  apart  from  the  other 
four,  and  we  do  not  believe  these  four,  the  higher  phenomena 
as  they  are  called,  from  phreno-magnetism  to  farseeing  inclu- 
sive, in  the  manner  in  which  we  know  and  believe  the  received 
composition  of  water,  the  demonstrated  distance  of  the  sun, 
or  any  of  the  accredited  truths  of  po^tive  science.  It  has 
been  shown  that  the  magnetists  themselves  are  by  no  means 
agreed  about  phreno-magnetism,  so  that  a  mere  scientific  spec- 
tator is  more  than  warranted  in  suspending  his  opinion.  As 
for  the  remaining  tiiree  classes,  if  that  of  double  conscious- 
ness be  once  admitted,  not  only  is  that  of  double  sensation 
explained  by  it ;  but  also  so  large  a  number  of  the  facts  re- 
corded under  the  head  of  farseeing  are  rendered  conceivable 
b^  the  admission,  as  to  bring  the  exceptions  under  suspi- 
cion. The  phenomenon  of  double  consciousness  itself,  how- 
ever, would  remm  undisposed  of;  and  still  less  like  other 
tilings  in  the  universe  of  human  knowledge  tiian  ever.  Not- 
witi^tanding  our  inability  to  accept  these  four  classes  of  so- 
called  facts,  as  they  at  present  stand  in  the  literature  of 
science,  let  it  be  clearly  understood  that  we  do  not  reject 
them;  we  do  not  disbelieve  them;  we  only  do  not  believe 
them.  We  do  not  pronounce  them  ridiculous,  nor  assert  tiiem 
to  be  the  results  of  imposture  combining  with  coincidence. 
We  only  thmk  them  not  proven,  nor  even  rendered  likely. 

The  degree  of  evidence  necessary  to  produce  conviction 
regarding  allegations  so  stupendous,  is  very  difficult  of  access 
indeed.  It  must  be  enormous  in  quantity,  it  must  be  unques- 
tionable in  quality,  it  must  be  accumulated  by  the  most  sUlfiil 
and  patient  investigators,  and  it  must  be  coordinated  with  in- 
fimte  pirecision.  Not  onlv  are  such  statements  too  extraordi- 
nary and  astonishing  to  be  admitted  by  the  scientific  mmd 
without  astonishing  and  extraordinanr  testimony  to  their  cor^ 
rectness,  but  the  inquiry  is  so  frigntfully  complicated  with 
phy»cal,  i^ysiological,  hyperphysical,  and  psychological  per- 


1849.]  The  Methodology  qf  Memerim.  29T 

plenties  that  it  probably  sorpibses  in  complerity  every  sub- 
ject that  has  yet  been  attempted.  With  these  profound  im- 
pressions of  the  momentous  and  marvellous  nature  of  mesmeric 
statements  of  fiust,  familiar  with  flie  well-known  difficultv  of 
properly  observing  and  truly  recording  the  simplest  new  facts 
even  in  unmixed  physics,  and  feelingly  aware  of  the  peculiar 
and  very  numerous  fallacies  and  impediments  which  waylay 
the  footsteps  of  investigation  in  this  particular  department,  we 
are  content  to  be  skeptics  in  the  sense  of  being  considerers. 
Hanging  over  aU  these  aUegations  in  a  state  of  suspense,  tiie 
requirements  of  our  understanding  are  not  satisfiea  with  the 
acceptation  of  them ;  but  there  is  so  much  coherence  among 
the  descriptions  of  many  and  widely  diverse  authors  on  the 
questions  m  which  they  are  involved,  the  majority  of  these 
writers  are  so  sensible  and  calm,  and  there  is  such  a  world  of 
good  faith  apparent  in  the  higher  literature  of  the  whole  sub- 
lect,  that  we  cannot  set  all  these  things  aside  as  either  the 
baseless  fitbric  of  a  visionary  school  upon  one  hand,  or  as  a 
tissue  of  cunninglv  devised  fables  on  the  other.  As  the  stu- 
dents of  MethodologT,  however,  we  think  ourselves  competent 
to  express  the  opinion  that  there  does  not  ^et  exist,  in  the 

Sblished  and  well-known  records  of  Mesmerism,  anv  thine 
e  a  digest  or  induction  of  unexceptionable,  orderlv,  and 
carefully  unfolded  experiments,  such  as  is  demanded  by  uni- 
versal consent  in  the  other  sciences  of  nature.  We  repeat, 
then,  our  decision  that  the  whole  case  is  not  proven ;  and  the 
happiest  thing  that  could  befall  t^e  destinies  of  Mesmerism 
would  be  the  appearance  of  a  truly  great  thinker  at  the  head 
of  the  cause ;  a  thinker  as  simple  and  ingenuous  as  Spencer 
Hall,  possessed  of  experimental  sk3I  as  remarkable  as  that  of 
Reichenbach,  as  good  an  anatomist  as  Engledue,  a  phydcian 
of  origjmality  like  Elliotson,  as  subtie  and  pliant  a  metaphym* 
cian  as  Coleridge,  as  learned  in  all  things  as  Echenmayer,  as 
devout  as  Tholuck,  as  inventive  as  Strauss,  and  as  clear  in 
the  literary  expression  of  his  results  as  Harriet  Martineau. 
As  soon  as  such  a  man  shaD  begin  to  devote  a  lifetime  to  these 
involved  and  reinvdved  inqturies,  we  shall  be^  to  become 
sanguine  of  the  palpable  solution  of  them  in  one  way  or  an- 
other. In  the  meantime,  let  the  present  investigators  of  zoo- 
magnetic  phenomena  study  with  diligence  the  best  models  of 
research,  and  combine  witii  order  and  steadfastness  for  the 
production  of  purely  experimental  works,  capable  of  producing 
scientific  conviction. 


298  The  Methodology  of  Mennerism.  {Jwob^ 

There  is,  bowever,  another  sort  of  conviction  than  that 
\vhich  is  scientific  in  its  origin  and  scope.  For  example,  a 
student  may  be  powerfully  impressed  with  a  sense  of  tiie 
truth  of  the  very  four  propositions  of  fact  now  under  discus- 
sion, after  having  gone  through  a  great  deal  of  candid  case- 
reading,  or  after  having  witnessed  a  multitude  of  apparently 
searching  experiments;  and  yet  feel  obliged  to  confess,  to 
himself  and  other  inquirers,  that  his  conviction  is  by  no  means 
methodical  or  scientific.  Such  seems  to  have  been  the  posi- 
tion of  Treviranus,  when  he  assured  Coleridge  that  he  had 
seen  such  things,  at  mesmeric  sessions,  as  he  could  not  have 
believed  upon  the  authority  of  his  English  interlocutor ;  and 
added  that  he  accordingly  did  not  expect  them  to  be  believed 
on  his  own  testimony.  Yet  it  is  this  sort  of  unaccountable 
conviction  that  carries  the  day  with  the  vast  minority  of  peo- 
ple. It  is  a  forefeeling  of  the  truth,  not  a  perception  of  it ; 
and  that  forefeeling  may,  in  any  dven  case,  be  an  emotive 
illusion ;  just  as  the  demon  of  the  delirious  patient  is  a  sensu- 
ous one.  Science  puts  no  confidence  in  such  forefeelings, 
such  irresistible  impressions,  such  convictions.  It  demands  a 
clear,  copious,  and  unexceptionable  comparison  of  instances ; 
but  it  must  at  the  same  time  be  confest  that  it  is  only  the  man 
who  lives  and  labors  under  the  influence  of  this  very  sort  of 
emotive  conviction  that  will  ever  accompli^  the  triumph  of  an 
inductive  demonstration  in  this  case,  or  any  other.  All  the 
great  discoverers  in  history  have  proceeoed  in  that  way. 
There  has  always  been,  first,  the  forefeeling  of  their  new 
truths  shed  into  them  from  the  surface  of  evidence  most  in- 
sufficient ;  then  there  has  followed  the  life  of  consecration  and 
toil ;  and  then  the  attainment  of  an  omnipotent  scientific  con- 
viction, for  themselves  Jtnd  for  the  world.  The  mesmeric 
reader  will,  accordingly,  be  pleased  to  regard  us  as  somewhat 
hopeful  though  inexorable  mquirers,  rather  than  bigoted  skep- 
tics ;  even  while  we  speak  oi  some  fifty  years  of  contmued 
and  better-conducted  investigation  bemg  the  condition  of  the 
scientific  spectator's  pronouncing  a  definitive  judgment  on  the 
questions  at  issue.  At  all  events,  if  they  thmk  our  demands 
upon  their  evidence  exorbitant,  they  must  just  be  reminded 
that  their  demands  on  our  belief  are  altogether  exorbitant  too. 
At  the  same  time,  we  implore  the  neophyte  to  be  invincibly 
diffident  of  coming  to  a  decision  in  favor  of  the  four  classes 
of  factual  statement  at  present  referred  to,  under  the  suasive 
force  of  any  thing  short  of  absolute  scientific  compuldon ;  for 


1849.]  The  Methodohffg  of  Mumeriim.  299 

our  whole  philosophy  of  nature  and  of  man  will  require  to  be 
revised,  as  soon  as  they  are  admitted  into  the  canon  of  accepted 
truth.  Remembering  that  it  were  (]^uite  as  unwise,  however, 
to  cover  them  with  ridicule,  or  to  visit  them  with  angry  de- 
nunciation, let  us  preserve  the  awaiting  skepticism  of  just- 
minded  men. 

All  this,  it  must  be  understood,  is  applicable  only  to  the 
last  four  of  our  five  classes  of  mesmeric  statement.  There 
remains  the  first  of  them,  namely,  that  which  contains  the 
fact  of  the  unbroken  trance.  We  call  it  the  fact  of  the  trance 
without  any  hesitation,  for  it  seems  to  be  fairly  and  forever 
established  as  a  fact.  It  is  easy  of  observation.  It  is  not 
complicated  with  the  possible  phenomena  of  illusion.  It  is 
not  difficult  to  put  it  to  the  test  of  crucial  experiment.  It 
has  been  repeated  a  million  times  and  more.  Almost  every 
body  has  seen  it.  Nobody  questions  its  occasional  occur- 
rence, whether  it  be  callea  the  state  of  hypnotism,  that  of 
magnetic  sleep,  or  that  of  mesmeric  insensibility.  People  of 
worldwide  reputation  have  gone  into  it,  such  as  Agassiz  and 
Harriet  Martineau ;  and  they  have  attested  its  reality.  The 
mos  pidnful  of  surgical  operations  have  been  performed  on 
patients  thrown  into  this  trance,  which  is  at  least  as  profound 
as  the  kind  of  insensibility  produced  by  ether  and  chloroform. 
Dr.  Esdiule  has  set  the  question  of  its  existence  and  its  depth 
forever  at  rest;  if  his  guarded  and  unexceptionable  testimony 
were  necessary.  It  must  be  regarded  as  a  settied  thing,  and 
now  for  its  explanation ;  for,  whenever  a  new  fact  is  clearly 
and  irreversibly  made  out,  it  behoves  the  scientific  critic  to 
assign  it  a  place  in  the  system  of  things.  For  the  sake  of  the 
intellectual  exercise,  if  for  nothing  else,  let  us  endeavour  to 
put  this  one  in  its  niche. 

The  fact  itself  is  simply  this.  When  two  cerebro-spinal 
axes  are  brought  into  circumstances  of  relation,  propitious  to 
the  exertion  of  then*  natural  influences  on  one  another,  one  of 
them  frequentiy  does,  (and,  if  care  enough  were  used,  proba- 
bly always  would,)  fall  into  a  trance  vasUy  more  profound 
than  the  soundest  ordinary  sleep ;  in  which  it  is  insensitive, 
involunt-ative,  and  non-cogitative.  Is  there  any  thing  abnor- 
mal in  this  ?  Is  it  unlike  the  rest  of  nature  ?  Might  it  not 
have  been  anticipated  ?  Why,  when  two  celestial  bodies  are 
brought  to  bear  on  one  another,  what  transpires?  One  of 
them,  the  feebler  in  stellar  force,  becomes  astro-negative  to 
the  other,  passes  into  the  state  of  motion  round  the  other  in 


800  The  Methodohgif  of  Mesmerism.  [Jane, 

the  natural  state  of  rest ;  and  forms  a  double  mutj  with  the 
other,  in  which  their  primary  functions  are  the  true  oppo^tes 
of  one  another,  namely,  motion  and  rest.  As  soon  as  two 
chemical  atoms  are  placed  in  similar  circumstances,  that  is  to 
say  in  atomic  neighbourhood,  there  takes  place  a  similar  in- 
duction of  opposite  states  between  them,  and  a  third  some- 
what results  from  the  union  of  the  atomo-positive  with  the 
atomo-negative  elements  of  the  pair;  a  somewhat  which  is 
neither,  and  yet  both  at  once.  When  pieces  of  zinc  and  cop- 
per are  put  in  contact,  the  copper  is  instantly  struck  into  a 
state  in  which  it  is  metallo-negative  to  the  zinc.  Suppose  a 
slip  of  copper  in  the  very  process  of  bein^  dissolved  in  a 
chemical  menstruum,  let  it  be  touched  with  zinc  and  it  ceases 
to  display  its  susceptibility  of  solution.  The  chemical  activ- 
ity of  the  copper  is  instantaneously  paralyzed.  It  is  in  a 
chemical  trance.*  Now,  suppose  it  for  a  moment  to  be  possi- 
ble that  one  nerve  of  sensation  should  become  neuro-negative 
to  another  nerve  of  sensation ;  suppose  it  possible  that  one 
nerve  should  be  able  to  induce  an  opposite  state  upon  another 
one,  and  that  by  simple  nervous  neighbourhood ;  suppose  it 
possible  that  one  nerve  should  fall  into  the  same  relation  to 
another  one  as  copper  sustsdns  to  zinc  in  the  metallic  pair,  as 
hydrogen  to  oxygen  in  the  atomic  pair,  as  the  moon  to  the 
earth  in  the  stellar  pair ;  what  state  would  be  superinduced 
on  it,  the  negative  one  of  the  psdr  of  supposititious  nerves, 
namely  ?  In  other  words,  through  what  quality  in  the  nature 
of  nerves  should  one  nerve  of  sensation,  for  instance,  manifest 
the  fact  that  it  were  negative  to  another  ?  Doubtiess  through 
its  primary  quality,  its  mdividuating  quality :  the  rest  of  na- 
ture is  unammous  in  repose.  That  quality  when  predicated 
of  a  nerve  of  sensation  is  sensitivity ;  of  a  nerve  of  volun- 
tary motion,  it  is  voluntativeness ;  of  a  nerve  of  thought,  it  is 
cogitativeness ;  using  these  awkward  words  to  express  the 
shares  contributed  by  the  mere  nervous-system  towards  the 
showing  forth  of  sensation,  volition,  and  thought.  To  return, 
then,  to  our  provisional  supposition,  and  to  specialize  it,  sup- 
pose that  one  optic  nerve  could,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be 
suffered  or  made  to  fall  neuro-negative  to  another  optic  nerve, 

*  We  do  not  bj  any  means  wish  such  words  as  mefa/Za-fuga/tve,  aiomo* 
potUive^  a$tro-negativ€  to  be  introduced  into  the  rocabolarj  of  science.  We 
•hoald  detest  thtm  as  mach  as  any  body  else.  They  are  employed  in  th« 
present  emergency  solely  to  subserve  the  passing  literary  purposes  of  the  parar 
graph. 


1849.]  The  MeAodohgy  of  Memerim.  801 

and  it  is  dear  that  it  would  pass  mto  a  neardogical  state,  so 
fjEur  as  its  differentiating  quality  as  a  particular  part  of  nature 
is  concerned,  the  ^rect  opposite  of  tiiat  natural  or  positive 
state  in  which  the  other  would  remain.  It  would  instantane- 
ously  fall  into  a  state  of  insensibility  to  the  specific  action  of 
risible  bodies.  It  would  be  struck  blind.  But  let  it  be  sup- 
posed, furthermore,  that  not  onlpr  the  Qptic  nerve,  but  also  the 
whole  of  the  sensitive,  voluntabve,  ana  cogitative  constituent 
elements  <^  one  cerebrospinal  axis  were  to  fall  neuro-negative 
to  the  corresponding  parts  of  another  nervous«ystem,  it  is 
evident  that  the  former  would  lapse  into  a  genuine  trance  or 
suspension  of  all  its  functions  as  a  nervous-system,  in  other 
words,  into  the  magnetic  sleep ;  which  is  the  very  thing  to  be 
oxpliuned.  It  is  in  this  way,  in  conclusion,  that  we  propose 
to  coordinate  the  fact  of  the  true  mesmeric  trance  with  the 
rest  of  the  system  of  nature ;  by  bringing  the  conception  of 
it,  namely,  under  the  idea  of  polarity,  under  the  law  of  dual- 
ism, under  the  binary  theorv  of  the  phenomenal. 

This  will  not  appear  to  be  a  rationale  of  the  phenomenon 
under  discussion  to  such  as  expect  the  ultimate  reason  of  a 
thing  in  an  explanation  of  it.  But  there  are  no  ultimate  rea- 
sons in  inductive  science.  The  law  of  gravitation,  as  it  is 
generally  called,  is  not  the  ultimate  reason  of  celestial  move- 
ments, for  example.  It  is  simplv  the  statement  of  these 
phenomena,  abstracted  from  all  aetails,  unadulterated  with 
any  spurious  hvpothesis;  and  then  presented  to  the  experi- 
mentalist, the  observer,  and  the  computator  for  the  discovery 
of  its  conditions,  proportions,  and  specific  manifestations.  The 
same  sort  of  sentence  has  to  be  pronounced  upon  the  law  of 
chemical  induction  and  neutralization,  as  well  as  upon  those  of 
electrical  and  common  magnetic  induction,  and  so  forth.  The 
astronomer  is  not  only  incompetent  to  assign  the  ulterior  cause 
of  the  approach  of  a  planetary  body  towards  its  sun  until  it 
come  within  a  certain  distance  from  it,  when  it  proceeds  to 
revolve  around  it  in  that  elliptical  line  which  is  the  resultant 
or  resolution  of  the  mexplicable  force  which  draws  it  towards 
tiie  solar  centre,  and  of  the  equally  inexplicable  force  which 
hinders  its  going  nearer  that  centre  than  any  one  of  all  those 
points  which  make  up  the  ellipse  in  which  it  moves ;  but  the 
inquiry  into  the  essential  nature  of  these  cooperative  forces  is 
quite  out  of  his  sphere  as  an  astronomer.  The  mind  perceives 
and  can  find  out  no  last  and  inevitable  reason  why  oxygen  and 
hydrogen,  brou^t  mto  the  requisite  atomic  neighbourhood  of 


802  The  Methodology  of  Mumeriwn.  [June, 

each  other,  should  unite  in  order  to  the  production  of  that 
similarly  inexplicable  tertium-quid,  a  molecule  of  water,  the 
mesothesis  or  resulting  unity  of  its  two  coefficients.  Nor  can 
any  body  declare  why  or  how  the  simple  contact  of  zinc  and 
copper  should  induce  states  in  them  so  opposite  that  the  chem- 
ical energy  of  the  former  is  exalted,  while  that  of  the  latfcer 
is  rendered  equal  to  nothing.  It  is  in  a  manner  precisely 
analogous  that  the  zoo-magnetist  is  unable  to  state,  and  is  in- 
capable of  ever  descrying,  how  it  is  that,  circumstances  being 
favorable,  one  nervous-system  should  precipitate  another  into 
a  condition  of  what  may  be  called  physio-psychological  non- 
entity. The  cases  are  truly  parallel ;  and  all  that  has  been 
attempted,  in  the  foregoing  paragraph,  has  been  to  place  the 
phenomenon  now  considered  into  methodological  connection 
with  those  of  the  physical  sciences  adduced :  and  it  now 
behoves  the  experimental  Mesmerist  to  determine  the  condir 
tions,  the  ratios,  and  so  forth,  of  this  new  and  most  important 
species  of  induction. 

Nor  has  this  view  not  been  intuitively  hinted  at  during  the 
whole  course  of  Mesmerism  in  history.  The  magnetist  has 
always  been  surmising  the  existence  of  another  kind  of  impon- 
derable fluid,  analogous  to  magnetism,  electricity,  and  their 
congeners,  in  order  to  explain  his  phenomena,  that  is  to  say, 
to  bring  them  into  coherence  with-  the  rest  of  our  physical 
knowledge :  and  that  from  Mesmer  down  to  Reichenbach. 
The  very  phrases,  animal  magnetism,  vital  magnetism,  zoo- 
magnetism,  and  so  forth,  are  the  indications  of  the  fact.  The 
scientific  interest,  working  obscurely  within  these  adventurous 
observers,  is  never  done  pointing,  like  another  magnetic  nee- 
dle, to  the  necessity  for  a  new  plus  and  minus,  a  jjew  positive 
and  negative,  a  new  mode  of  polarization,  in  order  to  the 
conceivability  of  Iheir  allegations ;  and  they  imagine  they 
have  found  what  is  wanted  in  some  unheard-of  magnetical 
fluid.  From  the  very  birth  of  languages,  the  air  has  been  a 
favorite  similitude  for  spiritual  powers ;  a  similitude  so  cogent 
as  to  have  frequently  become  almost  identified  with  tiiat  which 
it  has  been  taken  to  symbolize.  In  more  recent  times,  the 
conception  of  the  air  has  been  refined  upon  and  subtilized  into 
tiiat  of  an  imponderable  fluid,  for  the  purpose  of  explaining 
certain  physical  phenomena.  Witness  caloric,  light,  electric- 
ity, and  the  other  hyperbolical  aurae  of  modem  science.  The 
error  of  the  poetic  childhood  of  humanity  is  repeated  in  his 
scientific  youth !     The  latest  movement  of  physics,  however, 


1849.]  The  Methodology  of  Memerimn.  808 

IB  towards  the  rejection  of  those  creattires  of  the  immethodical 
mind.  Sound  thinkers  begin  to  see  that  they  are  mere  idols. 
Vibrations  and  vibriatuncles  are  now  taking  their  place  ;  the 
new  conception  emanating  from  the  analogy  of  sound,  the 
vibrations  of  which  appear  to  be  visible  to  the  eye,  as  well  as 
potential  in  the  ear.  In  fine,  the  physicist  is  able  at  last  to 
K>ok  at  bare  facts,  without  investing  them  with  beggarly  shifts. 
Yet  this  victory  of  naked  truth  is  slow  as  well  as  sure.  The 
Newtonian  mode  of  stating  the  fact  of  gravitation  was  once 
abused  as  mystical,  whereas  it  was  precisely  the  reverse.  It 
was  those  fluid-mongers  who  were  the  mystics  then,  as  they  are 
now.  They  invent  they  know  not  what,  in  order  to  escape  the 
dire  necessity  of  confronting  pure  force  face  to  fece.  They 
cannot  think  that  common  matter  is  sufficient  for  its  own  ener- 
^es,  and  therefore  they  project  a  family  of  matters  extraordi- 
nary for  the  purpose.  One  might  well  wonder  if  these  ghost- 
loving  schoolmen  ever  mquire  whether  a  series  of  subter-  or 
super-fluids  be  not  needful  for  the  sustaining  of  their  favorites 
from  the  invisible  world.  Since  the  calorific  fluid  must  be 
devised  for  the  sake  of  expanding  solids,  liquids,  and  gases, 
it  is  surely  the  next  necessity  of  the  case  to  devise  something 
else  to  produce  the  expan^on  of  caloric !  But  super-caloric,  as 
this  second  creation  of  the  calorician's  "heat-oppressed  brain" 
would  fall  to  be  denominated,  must  likewise  be  provided  with 
an  expansor,  a  super-super-caloric  ;  then  this  double-superfine 
imponderable  were  just  as  needful  of  an  actuator  as  the  origi- 
nal caloric  himself;  and  so  on  in  an  interminable  series,  as 
appalling  as  it  were  fistntastical :  — 

What  1  will  the  line  stretch  out  to  the  crack  of  doom  1 
Another  yet  ? — A  seventh  ?  —  I  *ll  hear  no  more. 

Nay,  but  caloric  is  self-expansive,  the  lingering  disciple  of 
Doctor  Black  will  urge.  Well,  is  it  not  just  as  simple,  and  &r 
more  direct  to  affirm  that  the  gases  are  self-expansive  in  all 
conditions,  while  liquids  and  solids  are  self-expansive  under 
conditions  which  are  very  determinable  ?  The  fact  is,  that 
solids  and  liquids  are  potentially  self-expansive  bodies,  in  which 
tiie  self-expansive  tendency  is  overcome  by  the  contractive 
energies  of  nature,  gravitation,  and  cohesion ;  precisely  as  a 
plant  or  an  animal  is,  chemically  speaking,  a  putrefactive  body, 
m  which  the  tendency  to  fall  down  into  putridity  is  overcome 
by  the  superior  force  of  vitality.  The  instant  a  living  sub- 
stance ceases  to  be  the  subject  of  the  upholding  power  of  life. 


ZM  The  Methodology  of  MeenUriem.  [June, 

it  succumbs  to  those  infmor  forces  which  melt  it  down  again 
mto  the  rest  of  nature.  And  the  moment  a  solid  or  a  liquid 
body  is  relieved  from  die  constraint  of  cohesion  and  gravity  it 
expands. 

This  mode  of  affirming  the  influence  one  cerebroHSpinal  axis 
possesses  over  another  should,  accordingly,  by  no  means  repel 
those  Mesmerists  who  are  watchful  of  £e  tendency  of  science 
towards  a  dynamical  view  cf  all  natural  phenomena ;  alAough, 
with  die  exception  of  the  ultra-pychologica]  section  of  their 
own  school,  they  have  been  hitherto  hankering  after  some 
mysterious  fluid,  supposed  to  pass  from  the  operator  to  the 
patient,  or  from  the  patient  to  the  operator.  The  gist  of  tiie 
argument,  which  is  now  pressed  on  the  attention  of  these 
entiiusiastic  investigators,  is  simplv  to  the  effect  that  there  not 
only  is  no  necessity,  but  that  it  is  also  bad  methodology,  to 
have  recourse  to  the  mystical  generation  of  airs,  aurse,  winds, 
afflatus,  wareens,  animal-magnetic  fluids,  new  imponderables, 
or  other  nonentities,  in  order  to  bring  the  phenomena  of 
Mesmerism  within  the  range  of  intelligibilitv,  that  it  is  to  say, 
within  the  pale  of  recognized  analogy.  As  to  the  rational 
grounds  of  the  zoopolar  force,  of  vitality  proper,  of  chemical 
affinity,  of  common  magnetism,  of  cohesion,  and  of  gravity, 
they  are  beyond  the  reach  of  science  altogether.  In  a  wori, 
the  rational  grounds  of  things  lie  out  of  the  province  of  a 
merely  science  methodology.  They  belong  to  the  possible 
domain  of  philosophy,  properly  so  called :  but  it  is  a  domain 
not  yet  begun  to  be  realized  in  any  direction ;  and  probably 
not  realizable  until  after  the  discovery  of  a  new  philosophical 
organon,  more  potent  than  the  syllogism,  the  process  of  induc- 
tion, or  the  doctrine  of  antinomies.  In  the  meantime,  the 
man  of  science  must  willingly  confine  himself  to  the  study  of 
phenomena  alone,  and  beware  of  perplexing  the  world  mth 
impertinent  notlungs  or  ludicrous  impossibilities. 

Returning  to  the  subject  more  immediately  in  hand,  the 
inquisitive  reader  may  demand  a  secondary  explanation ;  a 
rational^,  namely,  of  the  too  indubitable  fact  that  such  en- 
trancings  as  have  just  been  discussed,  are  not  constantiy 
occurring  and  interrupting  the  busmess  of  the  world.  How  is 
it  that,  when  one  half  the  world  shakes  hands  with  the  other, 
the  less  fortunate  of  the  halves  is  not  plunged  into  this  deepest 
of  sleeps  ?  Nay,  how  is  it  that  the  whole  splanchnic  or  sym- 
pathetic system  of  nerves  in  the  former  does  not  likewise  fall 
neuro-negative  to  that  of  the  latter ;  and  tlie  heart,  lungs, 


1849]  The  MModohffjf  of  Me$mmm.  805 

stomaoh,  and  other  vital  organs  conseqnentlj  cease  to  play 
their  all-important  parts  in  the  drama  of  animal  life  ?  How  is 
it,  in  fact,  that  one  half  of  us  do  not  strike  the  other  dead,  like 
the  basilisk  of  ancient  fable  ;  and  the  residuary  demi-humanity 
divide  itself  agun  and  agam  in  fatal  fascination,  until  the 
last  man  be  prematurely  left  alone  ?  The  question  is  hardly 
ffur,  yet  the  reply  seems  to  be  obvious.  It  lies  in  the  pecu- 
Uar  characteristic  of  a  nervous-system,  as  contrasted  with  any 
other  thmg  in  nature.  A  nervous^ystem  is  reactive  upon,  or 
sensitive  of  the  movements  of  all  the  rest  of  creation.  So  is 
a  sun,  so  is  a  planet,  so  is  an  atom :  the  disturbance  of  the 
smallest  mote  disturbs  the  universe.  But  a  nervous-system  is 
more :  it  is  sensible  that  it  is  sensitive  of  the  motions  of  thmgs. 
It  is  sensitive  of  itself.  Were  it  not  so,  the  query  might 
well  arise,  Where  does  the  body  of  a  man  end,  and  the  rest 
of  nature  bedn  ?  Are  the  bones,  are  the  nails,  is  the  cuticle, 
is  the  luur  tne  body  ?  Is  the  whole  of  nature  not  the  body 
ol  the  soul  ?  No,  because  the  sensation  of  his  sensations 
sculptures  a  man  out  from  the  rest  of  nature  :  and  he  walks 
abroad  the  paragon  of  animals,  as  well  as  a  denizen  of  the 
supernatural  world.  Nor  is  his  (merely  animal)  individuality 
len  at  the  sport  of  polarity.  It  is  protected  from  that  other- 
wise inexorable  law  by  the  myriad  c^  sensations  which  shower 
down  on  the  periphery  of  his  cerebro-spinal  axis  from  external 
nature,  as  well  as  by  its  own  innumerable  movements  of  voli- 
tion and  thought;  while  the  respiratory  and  sympathetic  nerves 
are  solicited  day  and  night  by  the  pressure  of  the  blood  at 
the  heart,  the  touch  of  venous  blood  at  the  lungs,  and  so  forth. 
The  nervous^ystem  is  kept  awake  by  the  inpouring  and  out- 
pouring tides  of  ceaseless  sensation.  Hence  it  is,  perhaps, 
that  the  negative-polarization  of  the  sympathetic  and  respira- 
tory is  ixnpossible,  and  that  of  even  the  axis  difficult  and  infre- 
quent. These  are  possibly  the  reasons  why  the  nervouslym- 
j^tic  temperament  on  one  hand,  and  a  powerful  well-balanced 
nervous-system  on  the  other;  freedom  from  the  digestive 
process  ;  every  thing  that  is  monotonous,  in  the  figurative  as 
well  as  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  adjective  ;  and  the  cutting 
away  of  as  many  as  possible  of  the  individualizing  agencies 
that  act  upon  the  expected  subject,  are  propitious,  and  even 
more  or  less  necessary  to  the  proauction  of  the  phenomenon  now 
criticized.  Such,  then,  is  our  tiieory  of  the  trance.  It  is  the 
conception  of  the  two  cerebro-spinal  axes,  of  different  degrees 
of  energy,  brought  mto  the  relation  of  dual  unity ;  the  one- 
vo.  yn.  21 


806  The  Methodology  of  Meimerism.  [June, 

bemg  oonoeiyed  of  as  neuro-positive  or  solar,  the  other  neuro- 
negative  or  planetary;  the  former  corresponding  with  zinc, 
the  latter  with  copper. 

K  these  observations  had  not  ak^adj  extended  to  so  great 
a  length,  we  should  have  been  glad  to  assail  the  other  theories 
of  the  trance  that  have  been  Isud  before  the  world,  and  to 
defend  this  one  with  more  particularitj  and  detail.  Suffice  it 
at  present  that,  if  anv  body  were  to  bring  forward  the  self- 
induced  hypnotism  of  Mr.  Braid's  subjects,  nothing  is  yet 
known  of  the  distances  at  which  one  nervous-system  can  become 
negative  to  another ;  and  that  the  steady  contemplation  of  a 
bright  or  particular  point  may  only  concentrate  the  circum- 
stances favorable  to  a  person's  being  unconsciously  entranced 
by  another  in  the  same  room  or  house.  The  objector  must 
also  remember  that  every  man  is  possessed  of  two  bndns,  two 
spinal  chords,  two  systems  of  nerves  for  sensation,  and  two 
for  voluntary  motions,  although  only  one  splanchnic  or  visceral 
system.  Each  of  us  is  composed,  in  fact,  of  a  pdr  of  cerebro- 
spinal axes,  and  one  of  them  is  always  a  little  different  from 
the  other.  The  more  alike  they  are,  the  more  regular  the 
features,  and  the  more  insipid  the  character  in  general.  In 
the  dreamer,  the  seer,  the  poet,  the  philosopher,  the  man  of 

Erowess,  there  is  always  a  visible  inequality  between  the  two 
rains  and  nervous-systems,  which  are  thus  sheathed  in  the 
skin  and  outer  body  of  what  is  called  a  man.  The  Greek 
sculptors  never  pretermit  this  fact:  they  knew  it  probably 
without  reflection ;  and  thev  expressed  it  without  hesitation. 
An  excessive  difference,  on  the  otiher  hand,  seems  always  to  be 
the  gnomon  of  a  violent  and  eccentric  nature.  Be  the  mean- 
ing of  these  hints  what  it  may,  however,  each  of  us  is,  speak- 
ing phvsiologically  and  in  sober  reality,  what  one  of  tJie  clas- 
49i^  cnaracters  in  British  poetry  is  siud  to  have  been  in  an 
ideal  sense  of  the  words.  Each  of  us  is  ^'  two  single  gentle- 
men rolled  into  one  " ;  and  we  venture  to  surmise,  if  not  to 
suspect,  that  not  only  the  hypnotism  of  the  Manchester 
patients,  but  the  common  blessed  sleep  of  everv  body  else,  is 
m  reality  connected  with  this  sort  of  polarity :  but  from  these 
fascinating  subjects  we  must  now  refrain.  ^ 

But  what  if  all  the  four  classes  of  allegation,  which  have 
been  dismissed  above  without  very  much  ceremony,  turn  out 
to  be  true  !  What  if  they  only  awwt  the  slow-sure  revolution 
of  the  scientific  vear !  The  simple  trance  was  long  disputed, 
and  even  scoutea,  but  it  is  now  an  indubitable  fact !    Is  it  not 


1819.]  The  MeUiodology  of  MmMrim.  807 

at  least  possible  that  clearseeing,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
may  sJso  become  established  on  the  accomulated  experience  of 
the  ingenuous  ?  The  Hours  alone  can  brine  the  answer  to 
such  eager  questionings  as  these.  As  soon,  however,  as  the 
observers  shall  have  done  their  part  of  the  work,  and  set  the 
factual  department  of  the  subject  beyond  contention,  we  are 
ready  to  essay  our  own  as  critics ;  for  it  is  our  conviction  that 
the  theory  of  polarity  is  competent  to  the  explanation  of  all 
the  higher  phenomena  of  Mesmerism,  supposing  them  to  be 
tarue.  It  was  our  original  mtention,  indeed,  to  have  dealt  with 
these  phenomena  unaer  such  a  temporary  supposition  as  is 
indicated  at  the  close  of  the  last  sentence.  We  should  have 
done  so,  not  as  a  scientific  duty,  certainly,  but  as  a  piece  of 
high  and  exhilarating  scientific  sport.  It  would  have  been 
undertaken  and  executed  in  the  spirit  in  which  the  hardest- 
working  men  will  hasten  of  an  evening,  after  the  substantial 
and  necessary  labors  of  the  day,  to  the  cricket-ground  or  the 
wrestling-green.  In  the  event  of  our  readers  caring  enough 
about  the  matter,  we  shall  perhaps  summon  them  ere  long  to 
be  the  spectators  of  such  a  game.  In  the  meantime,  it  is 
necessary  and  sufficient  to  point  out,  with  forefinger  as  firm  as 
iron,  the  most  important  consideration,  that,  whether  the  phe- 
nomena in  question  ever  be  made  out  or  not,  the  circumstance 
can  have  no  earthly  relation  with  the  majority  of  the  wonders 
of  the  New  Testament :  and  that  for  tms  one  overwhelming 
and  conclusive  reason ; — That  the  seers,  healers,  and  wonder- 
workers of  the  Oospels  and  the  Book  of  Acts  are  not  the  neg- 
atives, but  the  positives  in  their  respective  pairs,  if  they  be 
any  thing.  It  is  not  the  patient  that  shows  forth  the  marvel- 
lous latencies  of  the  nature  of  man  in  the  most  significant  of 
these  sacred  instances,  but  the  operator;  whereas  it  is  tiie 
very  reverse  in  the  mesmeric  couples.  This  single  circum- 
stance, in  fact,  differentiates  those  particular  cases  once  for  all 
from  the  mesmeric  phenomena;  and  announces  their  belonging 
to  another  sphere  of  the  hyper-physical  altogether. 


808  The  Oeean  and  U$  Meaning  in  Nature.      [Jane, 


abt.  n.— the  ocean  and  its  meaning  in 

NATURE.    ,-,     j.,,_,.^,^  ^.^... 

/ 

It  is  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Ocean,  that  from  whafc^ 
ever  side  we  look  at  it,  it  makes  a  strong  impression  upon  our 
mind.  We  may  contemplate  it  merely  with  the  physical  eye, 
as  it  extends  uninterrupted  and  restless  beyond  the  limits  of 
our  perception ;  or  we  may  consider  it  in  a  scientific  point  of 
view,  with  the  eye  of  our  intellect,  as  an  agent  of  natural 
power,  and  ascertain  the  part  which  it  has  played  in  the  his- 
tory of  our  planet ;  or  in  its  relation  to  natural  history,  as  the 
principal  seat  of  animal  life ;  or  in  an  economical  and  historical 
point  of  view,  pointing  out  its  bearing  upon  civilization  and 
human  development  in  general. 

We  intend  to  consider  the  Ocean  in  these  different  points 
of  view,  but,  before  entering  upon  the  subject,  we  thmk  it 
proper  to  say  a  few  words  about  its  relation  to  human  nature, 
and  the  light  in  which  it  has  been  considered  by  the  different 
nations  from  the  beginning  of  history. 

Let  us  first  speak  of  the  Ocean  in  its  relation  to  human 
nature. 

It  may  be  said  that  tiiere  is  between  the  liquid  element  and 
our  inmost  nature  a  deep  affinity  which  is  independent  of  ex- 
ternal condition,  since  it  is  found  among  men  in  a  savage  state 
as  well  as  among  the  cultivated.  It  is  anterior  to  education, 
and  is  even  witnessed  in  the  child  before  he  is  able  to  under- 
stand its  meaning.* 

The  impression  which  water  naturally  produces  upon  us 
becomes  still  more  profound  when  we  combine  with  it  the  idea 
of  extent.  Water  under  the  form  of  the  Ocean  becomes  then 
the  emblem  of  all  that  is  vast,  illimitable,  immeasurable.  We 
adopt  it  immediately  as  the  truest  image  of  the  Infinite.  It 
is,  as  a  poet  said,  ^^  I'infini  visible  qui  fait  sentir  aux  veux  lea 
homes  du  temps  et  entrevoir  Texistence  sans  homes.'' 

In  a  philosophical  point  of  view,  it  would  no  doubt  be  an 
object  of  interesting  study,  to  ascertain  why  this  image  is  so 
natural  and  so  generally  received.    It  is  obvious  that  it  is 


•  Those  who  Uto  on  the  border  of  a  sheet  of  water,  the  sea,  a  lake,  or  a  larg« 
rirer,  hare  oflen  observed  children,  even  of  a  lively  and  restless  temperament, 
^nd  whoU  hottfs  In  looking  at  the  water| 


1849.]      The  Oeem  and  iU  MMmng  m  Nitttwe,  808 

not  eztoit  alone  which  suggests  it,  mnce  there  are  other  phe- 
nomena-* such  as  a  desert,  a  prairie  —  whose  dimensions, 
though  not  equalling  the  Ocean,  nevertheless  &r  exceed  the 
limits  of  our  vision,  without  impressing  na  in  the  same  manner. 
Neither  is  it  the  vividness  of  oceanic  impressions  which  consti* 
tute  their  striking  character.  Other  phenomena  of  nature  — 
such  as  high  mountains,  glaciers,  great  cascades — sometimes 
produce  upon  our  mind  an  impression  not  less  strong  and 
perhaps  more  exciting.  But  this  emotion  is  of  a  very  different 
nature.  That  which  strikes  and  moves  us  in  them  is,  besides 
their  dimensions,  their  definite  form,  their  distinct  outlineSy 
their  contrast  widi  the  surrounding  objects,  their  mdividualitj, 
m  one  word. 

The  Ocean  has  no  definite  form,  no  individuality,  and  this 
is  the  reason  why  it  cannot  be  described.  It  is  precisely  in 
this  absence  of  form  that  we  have  to  look  for  the  secret  of 
its  power.  Indeed,  if  it  be  true  that  the  solid  form  with  its 
sharp  outlines, — a  crystal,  for  example, — is  the  most  perfect 
expression  of  matter,  the  liquid  form,  on  the  other  hand, 
wanting  as  it  does  a  fixed  outline,  ever  changing  and  impres- 
able  in  all  its  parts,  does  it  not  remind  us,  in  some  degree,  of 
tiiis  pervading  essence  that  we  feel  existing  within  us,  which 
is  the  foundation  of  our  organization,  and  which  has  also  nei- 
ther form  nor  limit  ? 

^'  To  try  to  paint  the  Ocean  is  like  trying  to  paint  a  soul," 
sidd  an  eminent  critic*  And  yet  there  is  in  the  Ocean  a  real 
beauty,  a  real  poetry,  which  in  a  measure  is  felt  by  every 
body,  but  which  he  alone  can  fully  understand  who  from  a 
high  cliff  has  some  time  contemplated,  at  the  edge  of  the  hori- 
zon, the  brilliant  and  warm  colors  of  the  sky  melting  into  the 
soft  and  quiet  tone  of  the  surface  of  the  waters,  or  he  who 
has  watched  the  waves  in  a  storm,  in  their  well-defined  but 
transient  forms,  as  they  chase  each  other  in  endless  succession. 
He  also  who,  upon  a  still  summer  night  in  the  tropical  Ocean, 
has  seen  the  stars  glistening  with  equal  lustre  on  the  bosom  of 
the  deep  or  in  the  celestial  vault,  can  understand  why  it  was 
that  the  ancients  made  the  Goddess  of  Beauty  rise  out  of  the 
Ocean. 

This  natural  charm  of  the  Sea  is  a  sufficient  explanation  of 
the  universal  interest  in  all  events  which  belong  to  the  Ocean, 
which  is  felt  even  by  those  who  have  but  a  vague  idea  of  it, 

*  The  aathor  of  "  The  Modem  PntinUn:* 


310  The  Oeecm  cmi  U%  Meanimg  m  Natwe.      [Jtme, 

wUch  causes,  for  example,  tihe  ohamois-hiiDter  to  forget  the 
dangers  and  attraotions  of  his  moantains,  and  the  backwoods- 
man the  panther  of  his  wild  forest,  while  listening  to-  the  nu> 
rative  of  the  sailor,  who  tells  him  of  the  wonders  of  the 
Ocean.  Even  the  adventures  of  Ulysses  —  woold  they  have 
the  same  charm  without  his  struggles  against  the  waves  and 
the  tempest  ? 

Admittmg  thus  an  intimate  relation  between  the  Sea  and 
our  inmost  nature,  we  do  not  wonder  at  the  beneficent  influ- 
ence whidi  the  Ocean  has  upon  us,  and  which  we  find  even  in 
the  generous  dispositions  and  the  open  although  rude  character 
of  l£e  mmple  sailor.  The  Ocean  is  truly  the  friend  of  man. 
It  not  only  affords  pleasure  for  him  upon  whom  life  smiles,  it 
has  also  consolation  for  him  who  has  sorrow  for  his  portion. 
The  soul  that  suffers  finds  in  it  an  almost  instmctive  assurance 
that  there  must  be  somewhere  similar  spaces,  where  his  powers 
of  expansion  may  be  freely  unfolded. 

It  is  in  this  affinity  between  human  nature  and  the  Ocean 
that  we  have  to  look  for  the  explanation  not  only  of  the  impor- 
tance which  is  given  to  the  Ocean  in  the  different  cosmogonies, 
but  also  for  this  other  fact  —  that  most  of  them  agree  in  con* 
sidering  the  Ocean  as  the  origin  of  all  things.  According  to 
Ihe  Hindoo  mythology,  Brahma  caused  the  earth  to  rise  by 
stirring  the  Ocean  with  the  mountain  Menu.  Homer  repre- 
sents &e  Ocean  as  the  source  of  all  that  exists, — 

*QKtavdv^  dcnep  yiveotc  iravreaai  jirvicrai^  ( IHad,  xiv^  246,)  — 

and  even  of  the  gods  themselves.  He  calls  it  the  father  of 
all  the  gods : 

^Qneavw  re,  ^ewv  yheaiv  koH  fifiiipa  Tj7iW)v.    ( IHad,  xiv.,  201 .) 

It  is  the  same  idea  which  we  find,  at  a  later  epoch,  at  the 
foundation  of  several  philosophical  schools,  especially  of  those 
of  the  lonians  and  Eleatics,  who  considered  water  as  the  orig- 
inal element  of  all  beings  ;  and  we  know  that  the  Stoics  rep- 
resented Neptune  as  the  spirit  of  the  universe  manifested  in 
the  liquid  element. 

Kara  r^  eic  rb  vypov  diaraatv,    {Diog,  Laert.^  vii^  147.) 

Even  among  the  Indian  tribes  of  the  West  we  find  the  same 
idea.  According  to  their  tradition,  the  Great  Spirit,  in  the 
form  of  a  beaver,  brought  from  the  depth  of  the  Ocean  a 
mouthful  of  earth,  with  which  he  builded  ui  island,  which 
became  afterwards  the  American  continent. 


1849.]       The  Occam  cmd  iU  Meammg  m  Naiwre.  311 

When  tiie  natiima  of  antiqoiij  had  reached  a  certidn  decree 
of  civilization  and  attempted  to  personify  the  forces  of  nature^ 
it  was  natural  that  they  shocdd  assign  an  eminent  rank  to  the 
Ocean.  According  to  the  condition  in  which  the  different 
people  were  placed,  and  the  advantages  or  inconveniences  they 
derived  from  the  sea,  they  conudered  it  sometimes  as  a  pro- 
pitious divinity  and  sometimes  as  a  hostile  power.  For  the 
Egyptian  who  derived  his  prosperity  from  the  Nile  and  its 
periodical  inundations,  Osiris,  or  the  Nile,  was  the  beneficent 
god,  the  source  of  good,  whilst  Typho  (including  both  the 
sea  and  tiie  desert,)  was  the  hostile  divinity,  the  destructive 
element,  whose  incursions  were  dreaded  as  the  greatest  ca- 
lamity. 

To  the  Phoenicism,  who  looked  for  his  fortune  on  the  floods, 
the  Ocean  was  a  tutelary  divinity,  and  history  teaches  us  tiiat 
these  bold  navigators  used  to  oSer  numerous  sacrifices  to  the 
god  of  the  Sea,  before  they  embarked  upon  their  adventurous 
expeditions. 

With  the  Greeks,  we  find  Poseidon  (the  god  of  the  Sea) 
among  the  protecting  deities  of  Hellas,  and  we  know,  also, 
that  among  the  Romans  Neptune  numbered  a  great  many 
temples,  where  sacrifices  of  all  kinds  were  offered  to  him. 

In  the  Scandinavian  mythology  the  oceanic  deities  do  not 
hold,  as  it  appears,  so  eminent  a  rank.  Ran  or  Rana,  the 
goddess  of  the  Sea,  is  represented  under  the  form  of  a  fright* 
ful  old  woman ;  she  lives  at  the  bottom  of  the  Ocean  and  ti^kes 
possession  of  all  those  who  are  shipwrecked.  Her  husband  is 
the  god  ^ger,  who  more  particularly  represents  the  sea  in 
tumult.  It  appears  that  he  was  also  feared  by  the  old  Britons, 
and,  according  to  Carlyle,  there  still  exist  traces  of  this  old 
tradition  in  some  parts  of  England.  In  Nottinghamshire,  tiie 
fishermen  say,  when  a  strong  wind  drives  the  sea  up  into  the 
river  Trent,  that  "  the  j^ger  is  eoimng.*^ 

The  fact  that  the  principal  mythologies  —  those  of  the 
Egyptians,  the  Phoenicians,  the  Greeks,  and  the  Romans  — 
took  their  rise  on  the  border  of  an  inland  sea,  (the  Mediter^ 
ranean,)  early  led  these  people  to  make  a  distinction  between 
the  Ocean  QQiuavoc)  and  the  Sea,  (nwrof,)  that  is  to  say,  the 
Mediterranean.  They  represent  the  Ocean  as  an  immense 
river  surrounding  both  the  land  and  the  sea,  but  without  min- 
gling his  waters  with  the  latter.  It  is  thus,  also,  that  it  is 
represented  on  the  shield  of  Achilles ;  the  same  idea  is  met 
vrith  in  the  Greek  poetry  at  a  much  later  epoch.    We  find 


812  Th$  (kean  mki  tto  MBom^  m  iVli^e.       [Juae, 

it  even  in  tiie  Prometheos  of  ibcfaylnSy  at  a  time  when  geo- 
graphical knowledge  had  long  proved  it  absurd.* 

It  was  natural  that  the  Ooean,  considered  as  distinct  from 
tiie  Sea,  should  appear  to  the  ancients  in  a  more  vague 
although  not  less  imposing  character.  According  to  Homer, 
it  is  the  primitive  river,  from  which  all  the  waters,  the  Sea  as 
well  as  the  springs  and  rivers,  proceed.  (^Iliady  xxi.,  196.) 
This  same  iaea  is  set  forth  in  the  myth,  in  which  we  find 
Okeanos  leaving  his  palace  on  the  border  of  the  great  river  at 
the  extremity  of  the  earth,  and  marrying  his  sister  Thetys, 
from  which  union  sprang  the  principal  rivers  of  Europe  and 
Asia.  It  is  frt>m  the  palace  of  Okeanos  tiiat  the  sun  domes 
in  the  morning,  and  thither  he  returns  at  night.  (^Iliady  vm., 
485 ;  xviii.,  240.)  The  twilight  also  dwells  in  its  waves. 
(^lUady  XIX.,  1.  Odyssey,  xxu.,  197.)  The  stars  bathe  in 
his  bosom,  Qlliad,  v.,  6,)  with  the  exception  of  one,  the 
Pdar  Star.    (Jttwi,  xvra.,  489.     Odyssey^  v.,  276.) 

Let  us  now  speak  of  the  Ocean  in  its  relation  to  animated 
nature. 

It  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  conmder  the  Ocean  as  barren 
and  desert.  Naturalists  have  long  ago  demonstrated  that  the 
sea  and  not  the  land  is  the  principal  seat  of  life.  The  land, 
to  be  sure,  is  the  habitation  of  the  most  perfect  animals,  and 
as  it  constitutes,  besides,  the  habitation  of  our  own  species, 
we  feel  naturally  inclined  to  connect  the  idea  of  life  more 
closely  with  it  than  with  the  Ocean.  Besides,  the  land  bemg 
less  uniform,  it  affords  more  favorable  conditions  for  the  devet 
opment  of  a  greater  variety  of  functions,  among  which  there 
are  several  which  we  consider  as  characteristic  of  animal  life, 
as,  for  instance,  the  faculty  of  uttering  sounds  and  of  express- 
ing in  this  way  feelings  of  pleasure  and  of  pain,  whilst  almost 
all  marine  animals  are  dumb.  Their  senses  in  general  are 
less  sharp,  and  their  power  of  locomotion  not  so  perfect  as  in 
those  animals  that  live  on  land. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  ought  not  to  be  forgotten  that  in 
the  number  of  species,  as  well  as  of  individuals,  the  Ocean, 
or  at  least  the  water,  far  excels  the  land ;  so  that  the  total 
amount  of  life  is  far  more  considerable  in  the  water  than  on 


*  It  was  Herodotof  who  first  opposed  this  idea  of  considering  the  Ocean  as 
a  river,  since,  says  he,  there  are  vast  seas  at  the  Soath  and  West,  and  nothing 
is  known  of  the  North. 


1849.]      The  Oeem  md  «et  Meaning  in  Nature.  818 

tiie  land.  Among  the. thirteen  classes  into  which  zoologists 
generally  divide  the  animal  kingdom,*  there  are  six  which  are 
exclusively  aquatic ;  namely,  the  three  classes  of  the  depart- 
ment of  Radiata,  the  Jellyiishes,  Echinoderms,  and  Polypes, 
which,  with  the  exception  of  some  few  fresh-water  Polypes,  are, 
moreover,  all  marine.  In  the  department  of  MoUusks,  we  find 
two  classes  exclusively  aquatic,  the  Cuttlefishes  and  Clams. 
Finally,  there  is  the  great  class  of  Fishes  among  the  Verte- 
brates, which  is  entirely  composed  of  aquatic  animals.  Among 
the  seven  other  classes  there  is  none,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Birds,!  which  does  not  contain  aquatic  animals.  Thus  we 
have,  among  the  Mammifers,  the  important  order  of  Whales, 
which  are  all  marine ;  among  the  Reptiles,  the  Tritons  and 
many  frog-like  animals;  among  the  Insects,  a  number  of 
water  insects.  As  to  the  Crustacea,  or  Crabs,  they  are 
almost  exclusively  aquatic,  since  they  number  but  a  few  small 
land  species;  the  Worms,  also,  are  mostly  aquatic,  as  are 
likewise  the  Sntdls.  In  the  present  state  of  our  knowledge, 
it  may  be  safely  stated  that  two-thirds  of  the  animal  kingdom 
are  aquatic.  But  as  the  marine  animals  are  much  less  known 
than  the  terrestrial,  it  is  to  be  expected  that  their  proportion 
will  be  increased  very  much,  especially  if  we  include  in  our 
survey  the  extinct  or  fossil  species,  which  are  for  the  most 
part  marine. 

Whoever  has  looked  down  in  a  shallow,  quiet  sea,  and  has 
beheld  the  variety  of  creatures  of  all  sorts — crabs,  snails, 
worms,  star-fishes,  p<Jypes  —  which  live  among  the  sea-weeds, 
may  have  some  idea  of  the  amount  of  life  which  is  concealed 
in  these  submarine  abodes.  It  has  been  observed  bv  an  emi- 
nent traveller,  (Darwin,)  that  our  most  thickly  inhabited  for- 
ests appear  almost  as  deserts,  when  we  come  to  compare  them 
with  the  corresponding  regions  of  the  Ocean.  And  yet  those 
animals  which  we  are  able  to  follow  in  their  abodes,  as  they 
jump,  run,  swim,  spin  round,  creep,  or  balance  themselves 
among  the  sea-weeds,  are  nothing  in  comparison  to  that  host 
of  smaller  creatures,  imperceptible  to  our  eyes,  —  the  infus<h 


*  Mammifers,  Birds,  Reptiles,  Fishes,  Cmstacea  or  Crabs,  Insects,  Worms, 
Cephalopods  or  Cattleiishes,  Gastropods  or  Snails,  Aoephals  or  Clams,  Bie- 
dusA  or  Jelly  fishes,  Echinoderms,  (Sea  Eggs  and  Five  fingers,)  and  Polypes. 

t  The  fact  of  an  animal  being  aqnatic  or  terrestrial  is  MSt  ascertained  by 
the  element  in  which  it  is  bom.  Birds  do  not  lar  their  eggs  in  the  water,  and 
therefore  may  safely  be  considered  as  land  animals,  although  some  species  U?t 
ahnost  exclusively  on  the  water. 


814  The  Ocean  cmd  tt$  MBomng  m  Nature.       [June, 

tia  and  faramifUferaj — the  number  of  which  is  daUy  in- 
creased by  means  of  microscopic  investigation,  and  which  are 
all,  without  exception,  aquatic.  A  single  tuft  of  a  small  alga, 
or  a  bunch  of  polypes,  is  thus  transformed  into  a  forest  qmte  as 
&ickly  inhabited  as  the  shoal  with  its  sea-weeds  is  to  our 
naked  eye.  Besides,  these  minute  animals  are  not,  like  most 
of  the  higher  ones,  limited  to  the  shores  and  shoals ;  they  are 
found  even  at  the  greatest  depths  of  the  Ocean,  where  no  oth- 
er animals  seem  to  thrive.  Mud  from  a  depth  of  six  thousand 
feet,  on  the  coast  of  the  United  States,  has  been  found  by 
Professor  Bailey  to  contidn  several  new  species  of  infusoria, 
and  according  to  Ehrenberg,  not  only  every  sea,  but  to  a  cer- 
tain degree  the  different  depths  of  the  Ocean,  each  contains 
species  peculiar  to  it  and  not  to  be  found  elsewhere. 

The  number  of  individuals  in  the  marine  species  is  not  less 
remarkable.  We  have  only  to  reflect  a  moment  on  the  quan- 
tity of  fishes  of  different  kinds,  —  mackerel,  cod,  haddock, 
eels,  &c.,  —  and  also  the  number  of  lobsters,  crabs,  and  clams, 
which  are  annually  caught  on  the  coast  of  the  United  States. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  these  periodical  destructions,  they  are  found 
every  year  equally  numerous.  The  phosphorescence  of  the 
sea  affords  us  another  strikmg  evidence  of  the  innumerable 
amount  of  individuals  in  certain  marine  species.  In  order  to 
have  an  idea  of  it,  one  must  have  seen  in  a  fine  summer  night 
the  sea  sparkling  like  a  furnace  at  every  stroke  of  the  paddle- 
wheels,  and  have  ascertained  by  direct  examination  that  each 
sparkle  is  a  little  animal.  Or  one  must  have  seen  in  the  day- 
time the  surface  of  the  water  teeming  with  those  beautiful, 
little,  transparent  creatures  of  the  class  of  Medus»,  (Beroe, 
for  example,)  and  remember  that  these  animals  constitute  the 
only  food  of  the  largest  whales.  Lastly,  we  may  call  to  mmd 
those  coral  islands  of  the  southern  seas,  those  whole  archipel- 
agoes, constructed  by  little  animals  of  the  class  of  Polypes, 
some  of  which  are  almost  microscopic. 

The  sea  along  the  coast  of  the  United  States  is  not  inferior 
to  any  other,  either  in  number  of  species  or  of  individuals. 
Concemmg  the  species  that  live  near  the  shores,  we  have  only 
to  refer  to  the  catalogues  and  surveys  published  by  the  differ- 
ent States,  and  as  to  those  that  are  found  in  deep  water,  we 
may  state,  as  an  instance  of  their  variety,  that  in  an  excursion 
on  board  of  one  of  the  vessels  of  the  United  States  navy, 
among  the  shoals  of  Nantucket,  it  was  only  necessary  to  cast 
the  dredge  in  order  to  get  a  rich  collection  of  sea  animals,  for 


1849.]       The  Oeem  and  U$  Meaning  in  Nature.  815 

the  most  part  new  species,  or  such  as  had  not  been  nolieed 
before  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic.  Among  the  species  thus 
obtamed,  there  is  one  which  deserves  a  particular  attention,  in 
as  far  as  it  may  be  cited  as  an  instance  of  the  great  amount 
of  animal  life  existing  unnoticed  in  the  depths  of  the  sea.  The 
species  in  question  belongs  to  a  genus  known  to  naturalists 
under  the  name  of  Salpa.  They  are  little  animals  of  the  size 
of  a  small  bean,  gelatinous  and  transparent  like  crystals,  and, 
what  constitutes  their  most  striking  peculiarity,  tibey  are  air 
tached  to  each  other  in  double  rows,  so  as  to  form  long  strings 
like  necklaces  of  crystals,  which  are  called  colonies.  These 
curious  animals  had  never  before  been  noticed  on  this  coast. 
The  first  specimens  were  dredged  in  an  isolated  state  in  the 
Vineyard  Sound.  Some  weeks  later,  during  the  month  of 
September,  the  vessel  being  at  anchor  in  the  bay  of  Nan- 
tucket, the  surface  of  the  water,  immediately  after  a  heavy 
shower,  was  suddenly  seen  teeming  with  elongated  bodies  like 
long  transparent  worms.  The  pilot,  having  been  asked  what 
these  strange  bodies  could  be,  answered  that  it  was  the  spawn 
of  the  Bluefish  (^Temnudon  ScUtcUor^  Cuv.,)  that  came  thus  to 
the  surface  after  a  warm  rain,  as  he  had  noticed  it  many  times. 
Natural  as  this  explanation  appeared  in  consequence  of  the 
great  numbers  of  those  fishes  which  at  that  season  of  the 
year  came  to  spawn  in  the  bay,  it  could  not  entirely  satisfy 
the  naturalist  who  happened  to  be  on  board.  He  wanted  to 
examine  more  closely  the  supposed  spawn,  and  secured  several 
strings.  What  was  his  surprise  on  finding,  that  instead  of  fish 
«egga  he  had  before  his  eyes  perfect  animals,  which  not  only 
moved  by  successive  contractions,  but  in  consequence  of  their 
great  transparency  allowed  him  even  to  examine  in  the  most 
distinct  manner  the  circulation  within  the  body.  They  were 
seen  that  day  only  during  a  few  hours,  and  disappeared  sud- 
denly towards  sunset.  Some  days  later,  they  came  again  still 
more  numerous,  and  could  be  seen  at  the  depth  of  at  least  five 
feet.  It  was  thought  that  there  were,  on  a  moderate  compu- 
tation, fifty  strings  in  sight,  and  as  there  were  at  least  thirty 
individuals  in  a  string,  it  was  calculated  that  the  total  amount 
of  individuals  was  not  less  than  500,000,000,000  for  a  square 
mile,  without  counting  the  free  individuals.* 

*  The  Salpas  are  among  those  animals  in  which  that  singular  mode  of 
reprodaction,  known  nnder  the  name  of  aUmuUe  gtntraHon^  is  to  be  obsenred 
—  the  offspring  never  resembling  the  parents,  bat  the  grandparents.  In  the 
Salpas,  the  aggre^ted  individnals  produce  isolated  young  quite  different  in 
•hape,  and  these,  m  their  torn,  produce  again  the  strings. 


Sid  The  Ocean  and  it%  Meamng  m  Nature.       [June, 

This  fact,  whilst  affording  as  an  instance  of  the  prodigiow 
quantity  of  animals  that  may  live  unnoticed  b  the  depths  of 
the  sea,  makes  it  at  the  same  time  conceivable  that  so  many 
whales  as  are  known  to  have  existed  previously  along  these 
coasts,  could  find  there  are  an  abundant  supply  of  food,  in 
the  absence  of  other  similar  gelatinous  animals,  (Beroe  and 
Pteropods,)  upon  which  they  feed  in  the  more  northern  regions. 

K  we  consider  that  each  marine  species  is  circumscribed  in 
limits  which  it  does  not  pass,  or,  in  other  words,  that  they  are 
subject  to  laws  of  distribution  and  association,  as  precise  if 
not  more  so  than  those  that  preside  over  the  distribution  of 
terrestrial  species,  we  must  allow  that  to  the  zoologist,  as  well 
as  to  the  philosopher,  the  conditions  of  aquatic  life,  and  the 
peculiarities  of  the  Ocean-bed  by  which  these  conditions  are 
modified,  are  not  less  important  to  know  than  those  which  refer 
to  the  dry  land. 

Another  consideration  still  increases  the  interest  in  these 
investigations ;  namely,  the  fact  that  it  is  chiefly  by  the  study 
of  the  marine  animals,  and  of  the  manifold  conditions  of  soil, 
temperature,  depth,  and  climate  in  which  they  live,  that  we 
are  enabled  to  judge  of  the  conditions  of  the  earth  in  earlier 
geological  periods,  in  as  far  as  we  may  compare  the  remains  of 
K>ssil  species,  their  association,  and  distribution  through  the 
strata  of  the  earth,  with  the  condition  of  the  analogous  spe- 
cies now  living  on  our  shores. 

The  Ocean  has  also  a  great  importance  in  a  botanical  pcnnt 
of  view ;  for,  although  it  be  true  that  the  marine  plants  are 
less  numerous  and  diversified  than  the  land  plants,  (theulry 
land  being  the  chief  seat  of  vegetable  life,)  there  are,  never^ 
theless,  whole  groups  which  grow  in  water,  as,  for  example, 
the  Alga^  and  the  Fuci.  As  in  the  animal  kindgom,  we  find 
also  among  plants  that  the  aquatic  species  hold  an  inferior 
rank,  and  in  the  same  manner  as  the  lowest  animals,  the  Pol- 
ypes, are  exclusively  aquatic,  so  we  find  the  lowest  plants,  the 
Algse,  only  in  the  water.  It  is  thus  in  the  liquid  element  that 
the  two  kingdoms  meet.  There  we  find  those  seeds  of  Conferva 
that  spin  round  like  Infusoria,  and  there  agsdn  grow  those  ani- 
mals which  have  all  the  appearances  of  a  plant,  a  root,  a  stem, 
branches,  and  whose  flowers  are  living  animals.  It  is  there- 
fore by  a  comparative  study  of  these  oceanic  forms  that  we 
can  arrive  at  a  true  understandbg  of  the  relations  that  exist 
between  the  two  kingdoms,  and  perhaps  finally  solve  the  im- 
portant question  which  has  so  long  puzzled  naturalists ;  namely, 


V. 


1849.]      The  Ocean  and  its  Meaning  in  Nature.  817 

where  the  limifc  is  between  plants  and  animals,  if  there  be 
any  at  all. 

As  to  the  inferiority  of  the  marine  and  aquatic  species,  we 
ought  further  to  observe  that  it  is  not  merely  a  general  rule, 
applicable  to  the  great  divisions,  but  that  it  can  also  be  traced 
in  the  details.  Not  only  are  the  marine  animals  and  plants 
as  a  whole  lower  than  the  land  animals  and  land  plants  ;  but 
moreover,  if  we  direct  our  attention  to  those  groups  (classes 
or  orders)  which  contain  both  land  and  marine  species,  we 
shall  generally  find  that  the  latter  are  the  lowest.  Thus, 
among  the  Mammifers,  the  aquatic  tribes,  the  Whales,  are 
undoubtedly  the  lowest ;  among  the  Reptiles,  the  Tritons  and 
Frog;  among  the  Insects,  the  aquatic  kinds  hold  evidently 
a  very  low  rank  ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  among  the 
Snails,  the  few  species  that  live  on  land  are  superior  to  the 
multitude  of  marine  tribes.  Neither  is  it  to  be  overlooked 
that  among  those  animals  which,  in  consequence  of  a  meta- 
morphosis, change  their  condition  of  existence  and  pass  from 
one  element  into  another,  the  progress  is  constantly  from  the 
aquatic  element  to  the  dry  land.  Thus  the  tadpole,  which  is 
exclusiveljT  aquatic,  respiring  by  means  of  gills,  becomes  an 
ur-breathmg  animal  when  transformed  into  a  frog.  The  mos- 
quitoes are  at  first  small  and  dull  worms  living  m  water,  and 
become  afterwards  the  restless  creatures  that  fill  the  air. 
But  there  is  no  instance  known  of  an  animal  becoming  aquatic 
in  its  perfect  state,  after  having  lived  in  its  lower  sta^e  on  dnr 
land.  The  progress  invariably  points  towards  the  dry  land. 
This  fact  becomes  still  more  important,  if  we  remember  that 
the  first  animals  and  plants  which  appeared  on  earth  in  the 
primary  or  palsdozoic  epoch  were  aquatic,  and  that  it  is  not 
until  a  later  epoch,  (the  epoch  of  the  coal  formation,)  that 
we  find,  for  the  first  time,  land  animals  and  land  plants. 

From  whatever  side  we  may  consider  the  laws  of  the  organic 
creation,  —  in  its  actual  distribution  over  land  and  water,  or 
in  its  distribution  in  time  through  the  geological  ages,  or  in 
the  physiological  evolutions  of  some  of  the  animal  species,  — 
we  are  invariably  brought  back  to  the  liquid  element  as  the 
starting  point  of  all  progress.  We  may  then  say  that  the 
modem  investigations  merely  go  to  confirm  this  great  idea, 
which  was  vaguely  anticipated  by  the  ancient  poets  and  phi- 
losophers, when  they  tell  us  that  the  Ocean  is  tne  origin  of  all 
things. 


818  The  Ocean  and  its  Meaning  in  Nature.       [June, 

We  wiU  next  consider  the  Ocean  in  a  physical  and  geo- 
graphical point  of  view. 

The  sea,  as  a  whole,  occupies  more  than  two  thirds  of  the 
surface  of  our  globe.  The  distribution  of  the  waters  is  an- 
other still  more  important  point  to  consider.  We  know  that, 
far  from  being  equally  distributed  over  the  earth's  surface, 
there  is,  on  the  contrary,  the  greatest  diversity  in  this  respect. 
It  seems  as  if  the  land  had  been  concentrated  around  the 
North  Pole,  whilst  the  opposite  part  of  the  spheroid  is  almost 
exclusively  covered  with  water,  so  that  if  the  northern  hemi- 
sphere be  designated  as  the  continental  hemisphere,  the  south- 
em  hemisphere  deserves  with  still  more  reason  the  name  of 
the  aquatic  hemisphere. 

The  relation  of  the  sea  to  the  land,  and  the  manner  in 
which  this  great  body  of  salt  water  is  separated  by  the  conti- 
nents, has  caused  it  to  be  divided  into  several  basins  which  we 
designate  under  the  name  of  oceans.  Thus  we  distinguish  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  the  Pacific  Ocean,  the  Indian  Ocean.  In 
certain  respects  these  basins  may  be  considered  as  mere  gulft 
of  the  great  reservoir  around  the  South  Pole. 

Each  of  these  oceans  has  a  character  of  its  own,  inde- 
pendent of  those  peculiarities  which  arise  merely  from  the 
climate  or  the  animals  that  live  in  it.  Thus  tiie  leading 
feature  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  consists  evidently  in  the  endless 
number  of  islands  and  archipelagoes  which  are  scattered  all 
over  its  surface.  The  Atlantic  Ocean,  on  the  contrary,  has 
very  few  islands ;  but  its  shores  are  more  varied.  There  is 
no  other  ocean  which  combines  itself  in  so  many  ways  with 
the  land  ;  where  we  find,  for  example,  so  manv  promontories 
projecting  into  the  sea,  and  so  many  gulfs  and  sounds  pene- 
trating into  the  land.  The  consequence  of  this  is  a  great 
amount  of  coast  in  a  small  space,  as  we  see  it  exemplified  in 
the  coast  of  the  United  States,  and  in  a  still  higher  degree  in 
the  coast  of  Europe,  where  it  has  had  a  paramount  influence 
upon  civilization.  The  Atlantic  is  besides  remarkable  for 
having  the  greatest  number  of  inland  seas,  which,  although 
connected  with  the  Ocean,  are  nevertheless  so  completely 
surrounded  by  the  land  as  to  be  in  some  degree  independent 
of  its  influence,  and  thus  to  have  a  character  of  their  own ; 
as,  for  example,  the  Baltic,  and,  above  all,  the  Mediterranean. 
We  may  likewise  cite  as  belonging  here  Hudson's  Bay,  and 
in  some  degree  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  all  of  which  are  connected 
with  the  Atlantic.    The  Indian  Ocean,  although  less  strongly 


1849.]      The  Ocean  and  it$  Meaning  m  Nature.  319 

characterized  than  the  two  precedmg,  nevertheless,  from  the 
peculiarity  of  its  long  peninsulas  derives  a  character  of  its 
own,  which  is  not  without  importance,  especially  when  consid- 
ered with  reference  to  navigation. 

A  thorough  investigation  of  the  Ocean  ought  not  to  be  lim- 
ited merely  to  its  form  and  extent.  The  depth  of  tiie  sea 
must  likewise  be  taken  into  consideration.  As  a  general  rule, 
it  may  be  stated  that  the  sea  is  less  deep  near  the  coast  than 
at  a  distance  from  it.  Thus  tlie  coast  of  the  United  States  is 
bordered  in  its  whole  length  by  a  zone  of  shallow  ground, 
which,  according  to  its  peculiar  shape,  has  been  designated 
under  the  names  of  shoals,  flats,  and  banks,  the  knowledge  of 
which  is  of  the  highest  importance  for  navigation.  A  similar 
zone  is  to  be  traced  along  the  coast  of  Europe  and  especiallv 
around  the  British  islands.  The  average  depth  of  the  North 
Sea  is  less  than  two  hundred  feet,  so  that  an  upheaval  of  some 
hundred  feet  would  suffice  not  only  to  connect  the  British 
islands  with  the  continent  of  Europe,  but  also  to  double  its 
area.  There  are  geological  reasons  to  suppose  that  at  a  pre- 
vious geological  epoch,  a  direct  connection  existed  between 
England  and  France,  and  also  between  England  and  Ireland. 
Some  eminent  naturalists  have  even  tried  to  explain  in  this 
way  the  fact  that  the  animals  an^  plants  of  the  British  islands 
are  the  same  as  those  of  the  continent,  supposmg  that  they 
have  migrated  into  the  British  islands  at  the  time  when  this 
connection  existed. 

We  do  not  yet  possess  a  sufficient  amount  of  soundings  to 
enable  us  to  draw  a  comparison  between  the  depths  of  the 
different  oceans,  although  there  is  every  reason  to  suppose 
that  they  are  also  in  this  particular  different  from  each  other. 
Laplace  had  tried  to  demonstrate  by  astronomical  considera- 
tions, that  the  depth  of  the  Ocean  ought  to  be  proportionate 
to  the  elevation  of  the  continents.  But  recent  investigations 
of  the  average  elevation  of  the  continents  do  not  seem  to 
support  this  view.  Indeed,  according  to  the  calculation  of 
Humboldt,  (which  of  course  can  be  but  approximate,)  the 
heights  of  the  continents,  supposing  the  inequalities  of  their 
surface  reduced  to  the  same  level,  would  be,  for  Europe,  600 
feet ;  for  America,  1,050  feet ;  and  for  Asia,  nearly  1,100 
feet.  Now  the  soundings  we  possess,  although  not  very 
numerous,  nevertheless  authorize  the  assumption  that  the 
average  depth  of  the  Ocean  far  exceeds  this  amount.  There 
is  no  ocean  in  which  there  has  not  been  found  a  depth  of 


820  The  Ocean  and  U$  Meaning  in  Nature.       [Jtme, 

several  thousand  feei.  Thus  we  know  that  in  the  Arctic 
Ocean,  whose  bottom  is  very  uneven,  in  latitude  76^  N., 
Scoresby  did  not  find  ground  at  7,200  feet.  Captain  Rosa 
found  as  much  as  6,000  feet  in  Bi^'s  Bay.  The  Atlantic, 
opposite  the  coast  of  the  United  States,  has  been  sounded  in 
several  places  by  the  officers  of  the  United  States  Coast  Sur- 
vey, who  have  found  from  6,000  to  8,000  feet.  But  the 
great  basins  of  the  southern  seas  are  above  all  remarkable 
tor  their  great  depth.  We  know  that  Captain  Ross,  at  the 
west  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  sounded  15,000  feet,  and  the 
same  navigator  did  not  reach  the  bottom  with  a  line  of  27,600 
feet,  west  of  St.  Helena ;  a  depth  which  is  almost  equal  to  the 
height  of  the  loftiest  peak  of  the  Himalaya  chain.  Bv  com- 
bining these  facts  with  other  considerations  connected  with  the 
form  of  the  surrounding  continents,  some  recent  geographers 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  average  depth  of  the 
Atlantic  must  be  at  least  two  miles  and  a  half,  and  that  of  the 
Pacific  at  least  three  miles. 

As  to  the  inequalities  of  the  bottom  of  the  Ocean,  it  is  stated 
by  some  navigators  that  they  are  even  much  more  considerable 
than  those  of  the  land.  According  to  Captain  Wilkes,  the 
great  depressions,  or  submarine  valleys,  run  nearly  at  right 
angles  to  the  great  mountain  chains  of  this  continent ;  there 
is,  at  the  equator,  a  depression  to  nearly  the  5th  parallel  of 
south  latitude,  where  a  ridge  occurs;  at -the  15th  parallel, 
there  is  another  depression  to  be  found ;  10  degrees  further 
south  we  have  another  ridge ;  and  it  ag»n  increases  and  then 
lessens  in  depth  twice  towards  the  polar  circle. 

It  remains  (^  consider  the  Ocean  as  one  of  the  productive 
agents  in  the  economy  of  Nature.  Howsoever  important  the 
Ocean  may  appear  when  examined  from  the  points  of  view 
already  considered,  they  do  not  constitute  its  onlv  or  even  its 
chief  claim  to  our  attention.  To  consider  the  phenomena  of 
Nature  merely  in  their  connections  with  one  another,  ta  look 
only  at  their  useful  or  agreeable  side,  is  to  judge  the  works  of 
God  from  a  narrow  point  of  view,  and  to  mistake  their  true 
signification.  Every  object  in  Nature  ensts  in  itself  and  for 
itself,  before  it  forms  a  part  of  any  whole  ;  in  other  words,  it 
bears  in  itself  the  reason  of  its  existence.  It  is  true,  the 
oak  in  the  forest  combines  with  other  trees  to  furnish  food  for 
the  beasts  of  the  field  and  a  shelter  for  the  birds  of  the  air ; 
it  is  true,  a  shady'bower  gladdens  and  refreshes  us  with  its 


1849.]       The  Ocean  and  its  Meaning  in  Nature.  821 

greenness  and  its  shade ;  bat  shall  we  judge  from  this  that 
diese  things  have  no  other  part  to  play  in  Nature  ?  Shall  we 
rest  contented  here  that  we  have  learned  all  the  meaning  of 
the  Pole-star,  because  it  fenders  such  signal  services  to  the 
sailor  struggling  against  the  storm,  or  because  it  serves  ^  a 
faithful  guide  to  the  slave  in  his  nocturnal  pilgrimage  journey- 
ing towards  the  land  of  freedom  ?  No  more  does  the  Ocean 
exist  solely  to  serve  a  useful  purpose,  and  for  the  sake  of  its 
connection  with  the  rest  of  the  universe.  Before  the  first 
canoe  ventured  on  its  waves,  it  washed  the  continents  as  now; 
and  before  animals  dwelt  in  it^  bosom,  it  covered  with  its 
waters  the  face  of  this  youthful  sphere.  Then  as  now  it  had 
a  signification  independent  of  its  form  and  of  its  relation  with 
the  rest  of  the  material  world :  it  was  the  Ocean  majestic  and 
powerful  as  at  this  day.  To  comprehend  it  in  all  its  grandeur, 
m  all  the  extent  of  its  influence,  it  is  not  enough  to  study  it 
in  its  present  form  and  its  actual  condition ;  we  must  study 
the  Ocean  in  its  history  and  in  its  development. 

The  doctrine  that  the  Ocean  is  the  germ  or  point  of  depar- 
ture of  all  things,  a  doctrine  announced  in  the  old  cosmogonies 
and  laid  down  as  a  principle  in  the  philosophical  schools  of  the 
Greeks,  is  now  demonstrated  by  the  results  of  geological 
research.  In  short,  geology  teaches  us  not  only  that  the  rela- 
tions of  the  continents  with  the  Ocean  have  been  different  at 
different  geological  epochs,  but  in  going  back  through  the 
geological  ages  we  come  to  an  epoch  when,  according  to  all 
appearances,  the  solid  earth  did  not  exist,  and  when  the  sur- 
face of  our  globe  was  entirely  covered  with  water.  This  was 
the  period  of  "chaos" — a  term  which  does  not  by  any  means 
imply  confusion,  but  merely  the  absence  of  separation,  a  gen- 
eral homogeneousness  containing  the  principles  of  all  the  ele- 
ments which  were  thenceforth  to  be  developed ;  and  in  this 
sense  an  egg  is  a  chaos  —  though  it  contains  the  elements  of 
the  young  chicken  hereafter  to  be  developed. 

The  materials  which  form  the  greater  part  of  the  solid  land 
were  prepared  in  the  bosom  of  the  waters.  As  we  trace  on  a 
geological  chart  the  successive  formations  which  we  know  are 
of  aquatic  ori^n,  we  commonly  arrive  at  a  point  where  what 
are  now  entire  countries  are  represented  by  only  a  few  islands. 
Little  by  little  these  islands  become  enlarged,  the  spaces  which 
separate  them  become  filled  up,  and  vast  tracts  of  firm  land 
appear  to-day  where  once  the  Ocean  reigned  as  absolute  mas- 
,  ter.    This  is  not  the  place  to  inquire  what  part  has  been 

NO.  vn.  22 


322  The^ Ocean  and  its  Meaning  in  Nature.       [June, 

performed  b j  the  different  physical  agents  in  the  history  of  the 
formation  of  the  continents :  to  do  this  it  would  be  necessary 
to  enter  the  department  of  Geology,  and  to  discuss  anew  the 
old  questions  so  often  agitated  hf  the  geologists,  and  which 
at  the  beginning  of  this  century  gave  rise  to  the  celebrated 
controversy  between  the  Vulcanists  and  the  Neptunists. 

Leaving  out  of  sight  for  a  moment  the  agents  which  have 
built  up  the  continents,  we  assume  as  a  fact,  that  from  the 
time  when  the  solid  earth  first  existed,  it  must  enter  into  oppo- 
sition with  the  liquid  element  and  occasion  a  series  of  actions 
and  reactions,  which  not  only  constitute  the  peculiar  character- 
istic of  various  portions  of  tiie  earth,  but  are  the  conditions  of 
all  terrestrial  life.  It  is  enough  for  us  to  remind  the  reader 
that  by  means  of  evaporation,  which  continually  takes  place  at 
the  surface,  the  Ocean  constantly  imparts  a  portion  of  its 
waters  to  the  atmosphere,  which  is  agun  precipitated  on  the 
firm  land  in  the  form  of  rain  and  dew,  thus  &cilitating  the 
development  of  animal  and  vegetable  life,  which  could  not 
subsist  without  this  supply.  Consequently,  to  remove  the 
Ocean  from  the  face  of  the  globe  would  bo  not  only  to  put  to 
death  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  sea ;  it  would  be  to  extinguish 
all  life  on  the  surface  of  the  firm  land,  and  consequently  to 
,  destroy  its  signification. 

It  is  thus  that  the  continents,  which,  geologically  speaking, 
are  the  descendants  of  the  Ocean,  after  their  birth  are  de- 
pendent thereon,  and  are  never  entirely  emancipated  from  its 
control.  Even  the  desert,  which  never  receives  a  drop  of  rain, 
is  not  independent  of  the  Ocean ;  arid  as  its  soil  may  be  and 
burning  as  is  its  air,  nevertheless  it  receives  a  certain  quantity 
of  moisture  from  the  sea,  and  without  this  it  would  be  com- 
pletely impenetrable. 

But  this  is  not  the  only  action  of  the  Ocean  upon  the  land : 
it  acts  directly  thereon  by  modifying  the  form  of  its  shores. 
We  need  only  cast  our  eyes  on  any  portion  of  the  sea-coast, 
to  discover  more  or  less  striking  marks  of  oceanic  action. 
Sometimes  promontories  are  washed  away  by  the  violence  of 
the  waves,  bays  are  filled  up ;  here  islands  disappear,  there  new 
islands  rise  up.  In  one  word,  there  is  a  continual  change 
going  forward  in  the  form  of  the  shore  or  in  the  depth  of  the 
water. 

In  general,  the  attention  of  man  is  chiefly  directed  to  the 
destructive  power  of  the  Ocean.  The  invasions  of  the  Ocean, 
the  ravages  of  every  sort  which  it  commits,  are  mentioned  in 


1849.]       The  Ocean  and  its  Meaning  in  Nature.  828 

many  documents.  These  effects  are  certsdnly  the  most  strik- 
ing. Sometimes,  in  the  conrse  of  years,  we  see  the  shore 
give  way,  and  the  sea  sweep  off  tracts  of  land  which  for- 
merly were  cultivated  and' dwelt  upon.  A  man  who  has  seen 
his  field  vanish  before  his  eyes,  and  even  his  habitation  disap- 
pear, long  remembers  this  disaster,  which  he  cannot  separate 
from  the  idea  of  the  Ocean.  Even  men  of  science,  geologists 
and  geographers,  when  treating  of  the  Ocean,  have  preferred 
to  speak  of  its  destructive  power.  There  is  no  work  of  Geol- 
ogy in  which  mention  is  not  made  of  the  destructive  action 
of  the  sea,  as  one  of  the  causes  which  sensibly  modify  the 
form  of  the  land.  The  history  of  certain  countries  —  rf 
Holland,  for  example  —  is  a  struggle  between  man  and  tiie 
Ocean ;  it  is  probable  that  idthout  this  struggle,  which  has 
stimulated  the  national  activity,  this  people,  now  placed  under 
such  unfavorable  conditions,  would  never  have  attained  their 
present  power  and  weH-being. 

But  in  addition  to  these  hostile  and  destructive  influences 
of  the  Ocean,  there  are  others,  which,  though  less  striking 
because  slow  and  gradual  in  their  action,  are  not  less  but 
much  more  important.  We  wish  to  speak  of  those  accumula- 
tions of  materials  on  certain  parts  of  the  shore,  which  form 
flats,  fill  up  bays,  obstruct  the  coast,  and  thus  render  the  nav^ 
igation  difficult.  This  slow  but  powerful  action  of  the  sea, 
which  has  been  called  its  constructive  action,  in  opposition  to 
its  destructive  force,  may  be  observed  on  the  shores  of  all  the 
continents,  but  especially  where  the  coast  is  composed  of  mov- 
able materials.  The  influence  of  this  constructive  action  is 
not  limited  to  the  shores,  where  the  sea  and  land  come  in  con- 
tact, but  makes  itself  felt  to  a  considerable  distance  from  tilie 
land,  in  the  basins  and  shoals  whose  existence  has  been  veri- 
fied by  the  maritime  surveys.  A  similar  action  is  going  <m 
throughout  the  whole  length  of  the  coast  of  the  United  States, 
and  if  its  effects  are  not  well  known,  it  is  bec^mse  the  phe- 
nomenon is  on  so  grand  a  scale,  and.  having  the  whole  Ocean 
for  its  stage  of  action,  its  time  must  be  proportionate  to  iiie  ex- 
tent of  its  field  of  operation.^ 

In  a  country  composed  of  movable  materials, — like  ^ 
coast  of  the  United  States,  or  of  the  nortli  of  Europe, — if 
any  one  were  to  compare  the  form  and  structure  of  the  coast 
with  the  form  and  contour  of  the  bottom  of  the  adjacent  sea 
as  it  appears  from  the  surface  when  the  sea  is  calm,  and  as  it 
appears,  on  a  larger  scale,  from  the  soundings,  he  cannot  fid! 


824  Hie  Ocean  and  its  Meaning  in  Nature.       [June, 

to  be  struck  inth  the  remarkable  Binularitj.  There  are  the 
same  peculiarities,  the  same  contrasts,  the  same  undulations, 
with  the  ridges,  the  valleys,  the  table-lands,  and  the  plains ; 
80  that  the  observer  is  naturally  led  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
land  has  formerly  been  covered  with  water.  This  conclusion 
nowhere  presents  itself  more  forcibly  than  in  the  vicinity  of 
low  lands  like  Long  Island  and  the  Keys  of  Florida,  and  it  is 
generally,  and,  as  it  were,  instmctively  admitted. 

The  means  which  Nature  puts  in  action  in  her  submarine 
constructions  are  of  a  various  character,  and  deserve  a  partic- 
ular and  special  attention.  In  the  tropical  seas,  where  life  is 
so  intense,  it  is  the  Polypes,  that  is  to  say,  small  and  often 
microscopic  beings,  who  take  charge  of  these  gigantic  con- 
structions. The  Keys  of  Florida  have,  for  the  most  part, 
been  formed  by  their  agency.  In  the  temperate  or  cold 
regions  where  animals  do  not  exist,  the  arrangement  of  the 
submarine  constructions  is  more  particularly  the  work  of  phys- 
ical agents,  of  currents  and  tides.  This  is  a  subject  of  the 
highest  importance,  which  has  not  received  all  the  attention 
it  deserves.  It  is  quite  recently  that  it  has,  for  the  first  time, 
been  made  the  subject  of  some  investigations  on  our  own 
flhores.  We  hope  to  return  to  this  matter  on  some  other 
occasion ;  at  present,  we  go  no  further  than  merely  to  men- 
tion, as  a  general  fact,  the  striking  resemblance  which  exists 
between  the  form  and  direction  of  the  tides  and  the  distribu- 
tion of  those  oceanic  constructions  which  we  designate  by  the 
terms  banks  and  shallow  basins. 

We  shall  form  an  idea  of  the  importance  of  those  oceamc 
agencies  if  we  consider  that  the  submarine  structures  attrib- 
uted to  their  influence  are  not  confined  merely  to  the  vicinity 
of  the  shore,  but  extend  to  a  considerable  distance  from  it. 
A  proof  of  this  is  furnished  by  the  vast  banks  which  are  found 
at  the  northeastern  extremity  of  the  American  continent,  by 
the  basins  of  Newfoundland,  by  Green  Bank,  by  Sable  Bank, 
etc.,  etc.  K  all  parts  of  these  great  banks,  as  we  must 
believe,  are  formed  of  movable  materials,  like  the  sand-banks 
nearer  the  shore,  it  is  evident  that  their  structure  and  their 
mode  of  formation  are  of  the  highest  importance  in  the  study 
of  similar  deposits  which  at  the  present  time  are  above  water, 
and  which,  at  an  earlier  period,  have  been  formed  and  ele- 
vated in  the  same  manner  by  the  agency  of  the  Ocean.  One 
day,  perhaps,  the  mass  of  movable  materials  which  we  are 
acquabted  with  under  the  name  of  submarine  basins,  will  rise 


1849.]       The^  Ocean  and  its  Meamng  in  Nabwre.  325 

from  the  bosom  of  the  Ocean,  after  having  long  been  the 
abode  of  a  marine  population,  to  serve  as  a  dwelling  place  for 
the  tribes  of  earth ;  then  the  geologist  of  those  future  ages, 
going  about  with  his  hammer  and  pick-axe  in  hand  to  explore 
the  bosom  of  this  new  land,  will  perhaps  be  a  prey  to  the 
same  doubts  and  the  same  uncerttdnties  as  ourselves,  and 
experience  the  same  delights,  while  they  find  in  those  new 
domains,  in  a  soil  at  present  in  the  process  of  construction, 
some  new  fact,  some  relations  hitherto  unperceived,  which 
permit  them  to  connect  their  epoch  with  former  ages,  and  in 
those  new  realms  to  discover  the  same  infinite  rrovidence 
which  in  our  time  and  all  preceding  ages  has  presided  over  the 
destinies  of  our  globe. 

Thus,  to  comprehend  the  structure  and  the  form  of  the  soil 
we  inhabit,  we  are  obliged  to  go  back  to  the  Ocean.  There 
in  the  great  deep,  which  is  the  laboratory  of  continents, 
unhappily  our  knowledge  of  the  form  and  the  connection  of 
the  different  submarine  elevations,  is  exceedingly  imperfect. 
Hitherto  the  minds  of  men  have  been  preoccupied  to  such  a 
degree  with  the  idea  that  they  are  dangerous  to  navigation, 
that  we  may  say  of  them  what  the  old  poets  were  wont  to  say 
of  the  infernal  regions,  that  they  were  more  dreaded  than 
known.  However,  we  have  reason  to  hope  that  the  pilgrims 
of  the  sea,  who  follow  one  another  with  so  laudable  a  zeal 
along  the  shores  of  the  two  continents,  —  thanks  to  the  liberal 
and  enlightened  ideas  which  begin  to  prevail  with  governments, 
—  will  not  ffdl  to  initiate  us  more  and  more  into  the  mystery 
of  those  grand  operations  which  take  place  in  silence  at  the 
bottom  of  the  sea. 

In  another  article,  we  will  make  a  more  detailed  investiga- 
tion into  the  agencies  of  Nature  in  these  oceanic  constructions, 
and  applying  these  principles  to  the  configuration  of  the  soil, 
we  will  show  what  has  been  done  by  the  Ocean  in  the  forma- 
tion of  the  continents,  and  what  is  due  to  mere  telluric  causes. 


826  Macaulaj's  Hktorj/  of  England.  [June, 


Art.  m.  —  The  Sistory  of  England^  from  the  Accession  of 
James  IT.  By  T.  B.  Macaulay,  Esq.  London.  1848-9, 
2  vols.    8vo. 

• 
Perhaps  there  is  no  period  in  the  annals  of  mankind  of 
more  interest  to  Englishmen  and  Americans  than  the  one 
comprised  in  the  plan  of  Macaulaj's  history,  from  the  acces- 
sion of  James  the  Second  till  near  the  present  time,  and  cei^ 
tcdnly  no  one  standing  in  so  much  need  of  a  good  historian. 
We  Know  of  no  good  history  of  England  for  the  last  one 
hundred  and  sixty  years,  since  the  termination  of  Hume's. 
When  it  was  understood  that  Macaulay  had  undertaken  his 
work,  it  was  a  subject  of  general  congratulation.    All  were 

Ideased  that  so  important  and  difficult  a  work  had  fallen  to  the 
ot  of  perhaps  the  only  man  of  the  age  who  was  supposed  to 
have  the  learning  and  genius  required  for  the  task. 

Mr.  Macaulay  is  well  known  as  the  most  popular  and  able 
reviewer  of  the  present  or  perhaps  of  any  past  time.  Many 
of  his  articles  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  are  of  permanent 
value,  and  have  been  republished  here  in  a  separate  work. 
There  may  be  articles  hi  that  Review  that  display  more  pro- 
foimd  and  exact  knowledge  in  some  departments,  but  there 
are  none  so  eagerly  sought  for,  none  that  combine  so  much 
varied  and  extensive  information  on  subjects  of  general  inter- 
est, presented  in  so  popular  and  captivating  a  style. 

It  is  rare  that  any  man  combines  so  many  essential  qualifi- 
cations and  so  many  accidental  advantages  for  writing  a  his- 
tory of  England.  In  addition  to  great  learning  and  tsJent  as 
an  author,  he  is  eminently  a  practical  man,  well  acquainted 
with  the  world  and  its  affsdrs.  His  public  life  for  many  years 
as  a  member  of  Parliament  and  a  part  of  the  time  one  of  the 
iCnistry  and  of  the  Cabinet,  has  made  him  intimately  ac- 
quainted with  politicians  and  statesmen,  and  given  him  an 
opportunity  of  knowing  from  his  own  experience  how  the  bud- 
ness  of  government  is  carried  on.  We  believe,  too,  that  he 
had  the  reputation  of  being  one  of  the  best  speakers  in  the 
House  of  Commons,  and  combines  the  powers  of  speaking  well 
and  writmg  well,  so  rarely  found  united  since  the  days  of 
Cicero. 

This  work  is  more  entertaining,  and  contains  more  of  what 
we  wish  to  know,  than  any  other  history  of  the  times ;  though 
it  appears  to  us  that  the  author  is  sometimes  liable  to  the 
charge  of  prolixity,  and  dwells  too  long  in  illustrating  a  propo- 


1849.]  Macaulay's  Bhtory  of  England.  327 

rition  and  in  narration  and  description.    The  characters  of 
eminent  men  are  delineated  with  great  skill  and  much  life,  but 
are  sometimes  drawn  out  to  an  immoderate  length.    He  seems 
desirous  to  give  a  view  so  fall  and  complete  of  every  part  of  I 
his  subject,  as  not  only  to  prevent  the  possibility  of  being  ( 
misunderstood,  but  also  to  save  the  reader  all  the  trouble  of  1 
thinking  or  making  any  conclusions  for  himself.     Nothing  can  i 
be  more  opposite  to  the  manner  of  Tacitus,  though  they  agree 
in  one  respect  —  in  fondness  for  point  and  antithesis. 

His  style  is  clear  and  pointed,  as  well  as  beautiful  and  bril- 
liant. Perhaps  the  splendor  is  not  always  genuine,  and 
sometimes,  contrary  to  the  rhetorical  maxim,  resembles  that 
of  tinsel  rather  than  the  brightness  of  polished  steel. 

The  extent  and  minuteness  of  his  knowledge  of  facts  are 
indeed  wonderful,  and  we  know  not  where  to  find  any  thing 
like  it  hi  any  readable  English  history.  His  impartiality,  a 
quality  so  essential  to  the  historian,  in  his  account  of  1^6 
different  religious  sects  and  political  parties,  is  very  conspic- 
uous. The  Church  of  Rome  and  the  Church  of  England, 
Presbyterians,  Independents,  and  Quakers,  are  brought  in 
review  before  him,  and  their  errors  and  faults  exposed  with  a 
bold  and  imspapng  hand.  We  think  he  endeavours  to  pre- 
serve the  same  impartiality  between  the  Cavaliers  and  Round- 
heads, and  the  Whigs  and  Tories.  But  we  imagine  that  the 
zealous  partisans  of  all  the  religious  sects  will  be  dissatisfied 
with  his  accoimt  of  their  conduct  and  principles,  and  that  no 
political  party  will  be  entirely  satisfied,  unless  it  be  the  mod- 
erate, aristocratic  Whigs. 

If  we  were  to  object  at  all  to  his  views  of  parties  and  sects, 
it  would  be  that  he  may  not  have  done  full  iustice  to  the  relig- 
ious or  political  principles  of  the  Independents,  the  only  sect 
of  that  day  that  seems  to  have  had  any  just  notions  of  religious 
freedom  or  toleration.  It  was  the  Independents  alone  who 
prevented  the  Presbyterians,  at  the  termination  of  the  Civil 
War,  from  establishing  a  system  of  religious  intolerance  and 
persecution  as  odious  as  that  from  which  they  had  just  been 
delivered.  Cromwell,  Vane,  Selden,  and  Milton  were  for  libei^ 
ty  of  conscience  and  toleration  in  religious  worship.  The  Pres- 
byterians wbhed  to  succeed  the  ecclesiastical  tyrants  whom 
the  joint  arms  of  the  Independents  and  Presbyterians  had 
recently  overthrown.    Milton  had  just  reason  to  complain  that 

"  New  Presbyter  is  but  old  Priest  writ  large.** 


828  Macaulay's  History  of  England.  [June, 

The  first  three  chapters,  including  the  greater  part  of  the 
first  volume,  are  introductory,  intended  to  prepare  the  reader 
for  beginning  tiie  history  with  the  reign  of  James  the  Second. 
The  first  chapter  contwns  a  rapid  sketch  of  English  history 
from  the  earliest  times  to  the  Restoration,  or  accession  of 
Charles  the  Second.  He  dwells  a  little  more  at  length  on  the 
contest  between  Charles  and  the  parliament,  the  Civil  War,  the 
administration  of  Cromwell,  and  the  Restoration. 

The  second  chapter  is  devoted  to  the  reign  of  Charles  the 
Second,  a  knowledge  of  which  is  indispensable  to  a  good  un- 
derstanding of  the  reign  of  James,  and  of  the  revolution  which 
hurled  the  Stuarts  from  the  throne  of  England,  and  condemned 
'them  to  perpetual  exile. 

The  third  chapter  contains  a  description  at  length  of  the 
times  when  the  crown  passed  from  Charles  the  Second  to 
James,  and  a  comparison  between  that  and  its  present  condi- 
tion. It  contains  a  view  of  the  very  great  advance  which  has 
been  made  in  almost  all  the  particulars  thought  most  desirable 
in  national  prosperity  and  the  well-being  of  individuals,  includ- 
ing a  high  degree  of  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual  improve- 
ment. 

This  description  has  been  mentioned  as  being  out  of  place 
in  a  history,  but  we  think  it  the  most  important  as  well  as 
entertaining  in  the  whole  work,  the  one  we  should  be  most  un- 
willing to  spare.  Voltaire  justly  complains  that  "  the  history 
of  Europe  in  his  time  was  grown  to  an  endless  register  of 
marriages,  genealogies,  and  disputed  tides,  which  render  the 
narrative  obscure  and  unentertaining,  at  the  same  time  that 
they  stifle  the  memory  of  great  events,  together  with  the  knowl- 
edge of  laws  and  manners,  objects  more  worthy  of  attention." 
Whatever  may  be  the  defects  of  his  historical  productions, 
Voltaire  has  the  great  merit  of  leading  the  way  in  the  atten- 
tion now  commonly  p^id  by  historical  writers  to  laws,  manners, 
and  customs,  to  the  progress  of  the  liberal  and  useful  arts,  and 
especially  to  the  condition  of  the  people.  The  attention  of  the 
reader  is  no  longer  exclusively  directed  to  kings  and  princes, 
ministers,  ambassadors,  and  generals,  as  if  all  the  rest  of  the 
world  were  of  no  consequence  to  the  historian  or  reader. 

Mr.  Macaulay  has  on  the  whole,  we  think,  been  very  suc- 
cessful in  this  account,  and  has  given  a  very  picturesque 
description  of  the  condition  of  England  one  hundred  and  sixty 
years  ago,  and  a  very  favorable  one  of  England  at  present. 
We  are  not  disposed  to  call  in  question  the  general  fidelity  of 


1 849.]  Macanla/s  BiBUyry  of  England.  829 

these  pictures,  but  we  think  the  former  is  somewhat  over- 
charged, and  the  latter  maj,  perhaps,  be  deemed  a  little  flat- 
tering. Indeed,  we  think  it  must  be  apparent  to  most  readers, 
that  some  exaggeration  in  description  is  not  very  uncommon 
with  Macaulaj.  We  do  not  mention  this  as  detracting  from 
the  general  merit  of  the  work,  and  if  there  is  occasionally  any 
exaggeration  in  his  descriptions,  or  error  in  his  conclusions, 
we  think  that  the  author,  by  a  full  and  accurate  statement  of 
all  the  facts  that  can  be  ascertained,  generally  affords  the 
intelligent  reader  the  means  of  forming  a  correct  opinion  for 
himself.  Some  traces  are  occasionally  visible  of  the  rhetori- 
cian and  of  the  eloquent  debater  in  the  House  of  Commons ; 
sometimes  he  discusses  questions  in  the  style  of  an  advocate 
for  one  party,  but  in  these  the  decision  is  commonly  that  of 
the  calm  and  impartial  historian. 

The  following  is  the  character  of  Granmer,  the  principal 
founder  of  the  English  church  and  one  of  its  chief  martyrs, 
and  considered  the  leader  of  the  Protestant  party. 

**  The  man  who  took  the  chief  part  in  settling  the  conditions  of 
the  alliance  which  produced  the  Anglican  Church  was  Thomas 
Granmer.  He  was  the  representative  of  both  the  parties,  which, 
at  that  time,  needed  each  other's  assistance.  He  was  at  once  a 
divine  and  a  statesman.  In  his  character  of  divine  he  was  per- 
fectly ready  to  go  as  far  in  the  way  of  change  as  any  Swiss  or 
Scottish  reformer.  In  his  character  of  statesman  he  was  desirous 
to  preserve  that  organization  which  had,  during  many  ages,  ad- 
mirably served  the  purposes  of  the  bishops  of  Borne,  and  might  be 
expected  now  to  serve  equally  well  the  purposes  of  the  English 
kings  and  of  their  ministers.  His  temper  and  his  understanding 
eminently  fitted  him  to  act  as  mediator.  Saintly  in  his  profes- 
sions, unscrupulous  in  his  dealings,  zealous  for  nothing,  bold  in 
speculation,  a  coward  and  a  time-server  in  action,  a  placable  ene- 
my and  a  Itikewarm  friend,  he  was  in  every  way  qualified  to  ar- 
range the  terms  of  the  coalition  between  the  religious  and  the 
worldly  enemies  of  popery. 

"  To  this  day,  the  constitution,  the  doctrines,  and  the  services  of 
the  Church  retain  the  visible  marks  of  the  compromise  from  which 
she  sprang.  She  occupies  a  middle  position  between  the  churches 
of  Rome  and  Geneva.  Her  doctrinal  confessions  and  discourses, 
composed  by  Protestants,  set  forth  principles  of  theology  in  which 
Calvin  or  Knox  would  have  found  scarcely  a  word  to  disapprove. 
Her  prayers  and  thanksgivings,  derived  from  the  ancient  Litur- 
gies, are  very  generally  such  that  Bishop  Fisher  or  Cardinal  Pole 
might  have  heartily  joined  in  them.    A  controversialist  who  puts 


3S0  Macaulay's  Batory  of  England.  [Jane, 

an  Arminian  sense  on  her  articles  and  homilies  will  be  pronounced 
bj  candid  men  to  be  as  unreasonable  as  a  controversialist  who 
denies  that  the  doctrine  of  baptismal  regeneration  can  be  discov- 
ered in  her  Liturgy. 

^'  The  Church  of  Rome  held  that  episcopacy  was  of  divine  insti- 
tution, and  that  certain  supernatural  graces  of  a  high  order  had 
been  transmitted  by  the  imposition  of  hands  through  fifly  genera- 
tions, from  the  eleven  who  received  their  commission  on  the  Gali- 
lean Mount  to  the  bbhops  who  met  at  Trent.  A  large  body  of 
Protestants,  on  the  other  hand,  regarded  prelacy  as  positively  un- 
lawful, and  persuaded  themselves  that  they  found  a  very  different 
form  of  ecclesiastical  government  prescribed  in  Scripture.  The 
founders  of  the  Anglican  Church  took  a  middle  course.  They  re- 
tained episcopacy,  but  they  did  not  declare  it  to  be  an  institution 
essential  to  the  welfare  of  a  Christian  society,  or  to  the  efficacy  of 
the  sacraments.  Cranmer,  indeed,  plainly  avowed  his  conviction 
that,  in  the  primitive  times,  thero  was  no  distinction  between 
bishops  and  priests,  and  that  the  laying  on  of  hands  was  altogether 
unnecessary." 

This  view  of  the  doctrines  and  services  of  the  church  re- 
minds one  of  the  saying  of  Lord  Chatham,  that  "  the  Church 
of  England  has  a  Calvinistic  creed,  an  Arminian  clergy,  and 
a  Popish  Liturgy."  According  to  Bishop  Hare,  the  principal 
difference  between  the  Church  of  Rome  and  the  Church  of 
England  is,  that  ^^  the  one  is  infiEkllible,  and  the  other  never  in 
the  wrong."  In  respect  to  the  divine  origin  of  Episcopacy 
and  the  apostolic  succession,  the  English  church  now  ap- 
proaches nearer  to  that  of  Rome  than  in  the  days  of  Cranmer. 

The  present  orthodox  belief  of  the  high  churchmen  we  be- 
lieve to  be,  that  the  Church  of  England,  with  its  hierarchy, 
its  Archbishops,  Bishops,  Deans,  and  inferior  clergy,  affords 
the  nearest  resemblance  to  the  primitive  church  in  the  time  of 
the  apostles. 

The  Church  of  England  has  been  always  strongly  attached 
to  the  sovereign,  its  supreme  head.  The  extravagance  of  this 
attachment  and  the  slavish  doctrines  taught  by  the  clergy  are 
thus  stated  by  Macaulay. 

^  The  Churoh  of  England  was  not  ungrateful  for  the  protection 
which  she  received  from  the  government  From  the  first  day  of 
her  existence  she  had  been  attached  to  monarchy ;  but,  during  the 
quarter  of  a  century  which  followed  the  Restoration,  her  zed  for 
royal  authority  and  hereditary  right  passed  all  bounds.  She  had 
suffered  with  the  house  of  Stuart.  She  had  been  restored  with 
that  house.     She  was  connected  with  it  by  common  interests, 


1849.]  Macaulay's  Ei«tory  of  England.  331 

friendships,  and  enmities.  It  seemed  impossible  that  a  day  coald 
ever  come  when  the  ties  which  bound  her  to  the  children  of  her 
august  martyr  would  be  sundered,  and  when  the  loyalty  in  which 
she  gloried  would  cease  to  be  a  pleasing  and  profitable  duty.  She 
accordingly  magnified  in  fulsome  praise  that  prerogative  which 
was  constantly  employed  to  defend  and  to  aggrandize  her,  and 
reprobated,  much  at  her  ease,  the  depravity  of  those  whom  oppres- 
sion, from  which  she  was  exempt,  had  goaded  to  rebellion.  Her 
favorite  theme  was  the  doctrine  of  non-resistance.  That  doctrine 
she  taught  without  any  qualification,  and  followed  out  to  all  its 
extreme  consequences.  Her  disciples  were  never  weary  of  re- 
peating that  in  no  conceivable  case,  not  even  if  England  were 
cursed  with  a  king  resembling  Busiris  or  Phalaris,  who,  in  defi- 
ance of  law,  and  without  the  pretence  of  justice,  should  daily  doom 
hundreds  of  innocent  victims  to  torture  and  death,  would  all  the 
estates  of  the  realm  united  be  justified  in  withstanding  his  tyranny 
by  physical  force.  Happily,  the  principles  of  human  nature  afford 
abundant  security  that  such  theories  will  never  be  more  than  the- 
ories. The  day  of  trial  came,  and  the  very  men  who  had  mosi 
loudly  and  most  sincerely  professed  this  extravagant  loyalty  were, 
in  almost  every  county  of  England,  arrayed  in  arms  against  the 
throne." 

"  The  restored  church  contended  against  the  prevailing  immo- 
rality, but  contended  feebly,  and  with  half  a  heart.  It  was  neces- 
sary to  the  decorum  of  her  character  that  she  should  admonish  her 
erring  children.  But  her  admonitions  were  given  in  a  somewhat 
perfunctory  manner.  Her  attention  was  elsewhere  engaged. 
Her  whole  soul  was  in  the  work  of  crushing  the  Puritans,  and  of 
teaching  her  disciples  to  render  unto  Csesar  the  things  which  were 
Cffisar^s.  She  had  been  pillaged  and  oppressed  by  the  partj 
which  preached  an  austere  morality.  She  had  been  restored  to 
opulence  and  honor  by  libertines.  Little  as  the  men  of  mirth  and 
fashion  were  disposed  to  shape  their  lives  according  to  her  pre- 
cepts, they  were  yet  ready  to  fight  kneedeep  in  blood  for  her 
cathedrals  and  palaces,  for  every  line  of  her  rubric,  and  every 
thread  of  her  vestments.  ...  It  is  an  unquestionable  and 
most  instructive  fact,  that  the  years  during  which  the  political 
power  of  the  Anglican  hierarchy  was  in  the  zenith,  were  precise- 
ly the  years  during  which  national  virtue  was  at  the  lowest  point." 

The  immorality,  profligacy,  and  total  want  of  principle 
among  the  higher  classes,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second, 
and  especially  of  the  most  active  and  leading  politicians,  seem 
almost  incredible.  We  have  a  striking,  and,  we  suppose,  a 
pretty  correct  description  of  the  general  character  of  the 
public  men  in  England  at  the  Restoration,  which,  to  a  great 
extent,  was  applicable  for  more  than  half  a  century  afterwards. 


832  Macaolay's  Ststortf  of  England.  [June, 

"  Scarcely  any  rank  or  profession  escaped  the  infection  of  the 
prevailing  immorality :  but  those  persons  who  made  politics  their 
business,  were  perhaps  the  most  corrupt  part  of  the  corrupt  so- 
ciety ;  for  they  were  exposed  not  only  to  the  same  noxious  influ- 
ences which  aflected  the  nation  generally,  but  also  to  a  taint  of 
a  peculiar  and  most  malignant  kind.  Their  character  had  been 
formed  amid  frequent  and  violent  revolutions  and  counter-revolu- 
tions. In  the  course  of  a  few  years  they  had  seen  the  ecclesias- 
tical and  civil  polity  of  their  country  repeatedly  changed.  They 
had  seen  an  Episcopal  church  persecuting  Puritans,  a  Puritan 
church  persecuting  Episcopalians,  and  an  Episcopal  church  perse- 
cuting Puritans  again.  They  had  seen  hereditary  monarchy 
abolished  and  restored.  They  had  seen  the  Long  Parliament 
thrice  supreme  in  the  state  and  thrice  dissolved  amid  the  curses 
and  laughter  of  millions.  They  had  seen  a  new  dynasty  rapidly 
rising  to  the  height  of  power  and  glory,  and  then,  on  a  sudden, 
hurled  down  from  the  chair  of  state  without  a  struggle.  They 
had  seen  a  new  representative  system  devised,  tried,  and  aban- 
doned. They  had  seen  a  new  House  of  Lords  created  and  scat- 
tered. They  had  seen  great  masses  of  property  violently  trans- 
ferred from  Cavaliers  to  Roundheads,  and  fVom  Roundheads  back 
to  Cavaliers.  During  these  events,  no  man  could  be  a  stirring 
and  thriving  politician  who  was  not  prepared  to  change  with 
every  change  of  fortune.  It  was  only  in  retirement  that  any  per- 
son could  long  keep  the  character  either  of  a  steady  Royalist  or 
of  a  steady  Republican.  One  who,  in  such  an  age,  is  determined 
to  attain  civil  greatness^  must  renounce  all  thoughts  of  consistency. 
Instead  of  affecting  immutability  in  the  midst  of  endless  mutation, 
he  must  always  be  on  the  watch  for  the  indications  of  a  coming 
reaction.  He  must  seize  the  exact  moment  for  deserting  a  fall- 
ing cause.  Having  gone  all  lengths  with  a  faction  while  it  was 
uppermost,  he  must  extricate  himself  from  it  when  its  difficulties 
begin ;  must  assail  it,  must  persecute  it,  must  enter  on  a  new  ca- 
reer of  power  and  prosperity  in  company  with  new  associates. 
His  situation  naturally  develops  in  him  to  the  highest  degree  a 
peculiar  class  of  abilities  and  a  peculiar  class  of  vices.  He  be- 
comes quick  of  observation  and  fertile  of  resource.  He  catches 
without  effort  the  tone  of  any  sect  or  party  with  which  he  chances 
to  mingle.  He  discerns  the  signs  of  the  times  with  a  sagacity 
which  to  the  multitude  appears  miraculous ;  with  a  sagacity  re- 
sembling that  with  which  a  veteran  police  officer  pursues  the 
faintest  indications  of  crime,  or  with  which  a  Mohawk  warrior 
follows  a  track  through  the  woods.  But  we  shall  seldom  find,  in 
a  statesman  so  trained,  integrity,  constancy,  or  any  of  the  virtues 
of  the  noble  family  of  Truth.  He  has  no  faith  in  any  doctrine, 
no  zeal  for  any  cause.  He  has  seen  so  many  old  institutions 
swept  away,  that  he  has  no  reverence  for  prescription.    He  has 


1849.]  Macauky's  HUiary  of  England.  833 

seen  so  many  new  institutions  from  which  much  had  been  ex- 
pected produce  mere  disappointment,  that  he  has  no  hope  of 
improvement.  He  sneers  alike  at  those  who  are  anxious  to  pre- 
serve and  those  who  are  eager  to  reform.  There  is  nothing  in 
the  state  which  he  could  not,  without  a  scruple  or  a  blush,  join  in 
defending  or  in  destroying.  Fidelity  to  opinions  and  to  friends 
seems  to  him  mere  dulness  and  wrong-headedness.  Politics  he 
regards,  not  as  a  science  of  which  the  object  is  the  happiness  of 
mankind,  but  as  an  exciting  game  of  mixed  chance  and  skill,  at 
which  a  dextrous  and  lucky  player  may  win  an  estate,  a  coronet, 
perhaps  a  crown,  and  at  which  one  rash  move  may  lead  to  the 
loss  of  fortune  and  of  life.  Ambition,  which  in  good  times  and 
in  good  minds  is  half  a  virtue,  now,  disjoined  from  every  elevated 
and  philanthropic  sentiment,  becomes  a  selfish  cupidity  scarcely 
less  ignoble  than  avarice.  Among  those  politicians  who,  from 
the  Restoration  to  the  accession  of  the  House  of  Hanover  were 
at  the  head  of  the  great  parties  in  the  state,  very  few  can  be 
named  whose  reputation  is  not  stained  by  what  in  our  age  would 
be  called  gross  perfidy  and  corruption.  It  is  scarcely  an  exag- 
geration to  say  that  the  most  unprincipled  public  men  who  have 
taken  part  in  affairs  within  our  memory,  would,  if  tried  by  the 
standard  which  was  in  fashion  during  the  latter  part  of  the  sev- 
enteenth century,  deserve  to  be  regarded  as  scrupulous  and  dis- 
interested." 

Robert  Spencer,  Earl  of  Sunderland  and  ancestor  of  the 
present  Duke  of  Marlborough  and  of  Earl  Spencer,  was  one 
of  the  most  thorough-going  politicians  of  this  class.  He  twice 
changed  his  religion  to  please  the  court,  was  concerned  in 
many  of  the  worst  measures  of  Charles  and  James,  and  was  a 
successful  courtier  and  favorite  minister  of  William. 

'*  Sunderland  was  Secretary  of  State.  In  this  man  the  politi- 
cal immorality  of  his  age  was  personified  in  the  most  lively  man- 
ner. Nature  had  given  him  a  keen  understanding,  a  restless  and 
mischievous  temper,  a  cold  heart,  and  an  abject  spirit  His  mind 
had  undergone  a  training  by  which  all  his  vices  had  been  nursed 
up  to  the  rankest  maturity.  At  his  entrance  into  public  life,  he 
had  passed  several  years  in  diplomatic  posts  abroad,  and  had 
been,  during  some  time,  minister  in  France.  Every  calling  has 
its  peculiar  temptations.  There  is  no  injustice  in  saying  that 
diplomatists,  as  a  class,  have  always  been  more  distinguished  by 
their  address,  by  the  art  with  which  ihey  win  the  confidence  of 
those  with  whom  they  have  to  deal,  and  by  the  ease  with  which 
they  catch  the  tone  of  every  society  into  which  they  are  admitted, 
than  by  generous  enthusiasm  or  austere  rectitude ;  and  the  rela- 
tions between  Charles  and  Louis  were  such  that  no  English  no* 


834  Macaulay's  Bxstory  of  En^and.  [Jane, 

bleman  could  long  reside  in  France  as  envoy,  and  retain  any 
patriotic  or  hononible  sentiment  Sunderland  came  forth  from 
the  bad  school  in  which  he  had  been  brought  up,  cunning,  supple, 
shameless,  free  from  all  prejudices,  and  destitute  of  all  princi* 
pies.  He  was,  by  hereditary  connection,  a  Cavalier;  but  with 
the  Cavaliers  he  had  nothing  in  common.  They  were  zealous 
for  monarchy,  and  condemned  in  theory  all  resistance ;  yet  they 
had  sturdy  English  hearts,  which  would  never  have  endured  real 
despotism.  He,  on  the  contrary,  had  a  languid,  speculative  liking 
for  Republican  institutions,  which  was  compatible  with  perfect 
readiness  to  be  in  practice  the  most  servile  instrument  of  arbitn^ 
ry  power.  Like  many  other  accomplished  flatterers  and  nego- 
tiators, he  was  far  more  skilful  in  the  art  of  reading  the  charac- 
ters and  practising  on  the  weaknesses  of  individuals,  than  in  the 
art  of  discerning  the  feelings  of  great  masses  and  of  foreseeing 
the  approach  of  great  revolutions.  He  was  adroit  in  intrigue ; 
and  it  was  difficult  even  for  shrewd  and  experienced  men,  who 
had  been  amply  forewarned  of  his  perfidy,  to  withstand  the 
fascination  of  liis  manner,  and  to  refuse  credit  to  his  professions 
of  attachment ;  but  he  was  so  intent  on  observing  and  courting 
particular  persons,  that  he  forgot  to  study  the  temper  of  the  na- 
tion. He  therefore  miscalculated  grossly  with  respect  to  all  the 
most  momentous  events  of  his  time.  Every  important  movement 
and  rebound  of  the  public  mind  took  him  by  surprise ;  and  the 
world,  unable  to  understand  how  so  clever  a  man  could  be  blind 
to  what  was  clearly  discerned  by  the  politicians  of  the  coffee- 
houses, sometimes  attributed  to  deep  design  what  were,  in  truth, 
mere  blunders." 

The  causes  assigned  bv  Macaulay  had  no  doubt  much  influ- 
ence in  producing  the  decline  of  public  and  private  virtue, 
but  yet  seem  hardly  sufficient  to  account  for  the  great  immo- 
rality swd  to  be  so  generally  prevalent.  Hume  says,  that 
"  never  was  a  people  less  corrupted  by  vice  and  more  actuated 
by  principle  than  the  English  at  the  beginning  of  the  Civil 
War.  At  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  it 
•would  seem  that  the  proposition  might  be  almost  reversed." 
There  is  probably  some  exaggeration  in  both  cases ;  but  there 
can  be  no  doubt  of  a  great  decline  in  public  and  private  morals, 
and  a  great  prevalence  of  immorality  and  corruption  at  the 
latter  period. 

We  suppose  it  to  be  true  that  there  has  been  a  very  great 
change  for  the  better  in  the  moral  and  political  character  of 

Kblic  men  in  England  since  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second, 
e  improved  morals  in  private  life,  on  which  Macaulay  dwells 
with  some  complacency,  the  diffusion  of  intelligence,  and  the 


1849.]  Maoaulay's  EUt&ry  of  Eti^gUmd.  835 

fliuch  greater  force  of  public  opinion,  have  had  a  very  bene- 
ficial inflience  on  the  conduct  of  the  Englbh  politicians  and 
statesmen.  This  improvement  may  be  considered  as  one  of 
the  most  favorable  symptoms  of  the  times  in  England. 

The  kings  of  the  house  of  Stuart  seem  to  have  been  an  in- 
corrigible race,  incapable  of  discerning  the  signs  of  the  times 
or  of  improving  by  prosperity  or  adversity.  Called  by  the 
English  law  of  succession  to  the  noblest  inheritance  in  the 
•wond,  they  supposed  their  right  to  the  throne  was  derived 
from  Heaven,  not  from  the  consent  of  the  people ;  that  they 
were  invested  by  Grod  with  absolute  power,  for  the  exercise  of 
which  they  were  accountable  to  Him  alone.  In  a  word,  that 
they  had 

**  The  right  dirine  of  kings  to  goyem  wrong; " 

a  right  which  they  strenuously  attempted  to  put  in  practice 
80  long  as  they  had  the  power. 

James  the  first  had  some  learning,  with  much  pedantry, 
and  endeavoured  to  prove,  from  reason  and  Scripture,  the 
divine  and  absolute  power  of  the  throne.  The  Duke  of  Sully 
pronounced  him  to  be  the  wisest  fool  in  Europe. 

Charles  the  First  had  more  capacity,  firmness,  and  perse- 
verance than  his  father,  and  was  more  bent  upon  the  estab- 
lishment of  arbitrary  power.  His  design  included  the  Amer- 
ican colonies  as  well  as  his  dominions  in  Europe.  Only  six 
years  after  he  had  granted  the  charter  of  Massachusetts,  he 
determined  to  revoke  it,  and  established  a  commission,  at  the 
head  of  which  was  Archbishop  Laud,  with  absolute  authority 
over  the  colonies  m  all  cases,  civil  and  religious.  This  board 
or  commission  were  authorized  to  make  laws  and  ordinances  in 
all  cases,  especially  for  the  support  of  the  Episcopal  clergy,  by 
tythes,  oblations,  and  other  profits  accruing,  to  make  and  un- 
make governors,  to  constitute  such  civil  and  ecclesiastical  tri- 
bunals and  courts  of  justice,  with  such  powers  as  they  should 
judge  proper,  and  to  revoke  any  charters  or  letters  patent, 
prejudicial  to  the  crown. 

Had  Charles  been  able  to  carry  this  plan  into  execution,  we 
ehould  have  had  our  High  Commission  and  Star  Chamber 
in  America,  and  not  a  vestige  of  civil  or  religious  liberty  would 
have  been  suffered  to  remain.  The  controversy  between  the 
king  and  parliament,  which  broke  out  soon  after,  gave  the 
king  and  archbishop  sufficient  occupation  at  home,  and  saved 
the  liberties  (^  New  England.    If  England,  as  most  of  her 


836  Macanlay's  HUtory  of  England.  [June, 

writers  say,  owes  her  freedom  to  the  Puritans  and  Long  Par- 
liament, it  is  not  less  true  as  to  her  American  colonies. 

The  character  of  Charles  the  Second  is  drawn  with  much 
force  and  vivacity,  and  we  suppose  in  its  true  colors.  This 
most  worthless  and  profligate  prince  was  for  a  time  more  pop- 
ular than  any  of  his  predecessors.  There  is  one  trait  in  hk 
character,  however,  not  mentioned  hy  Macaulay;  we  mean 
his  special  regard  for  daring  and  atrocious  villains. 

The  case  of  Blood,  who  attempted  to  assassinate  the  Duke 
of  Ormond,  the  first  nobleman  In  the  kingdom,  and  most 
zealous  friend  and  supporter  of  the  Stuart  family,  is  a  signal 
instance.  In  his  attempt  Blood  almost  succeeded.  He  had 
committed  other  capital  crimes,  besides  the  robbery  of  the 
crown  and  regalia  from  the  Tower.  Yet  this  audacious  crim- 
inal was  not  only  pardoned  by  Charles,  but  became  a  favorite 
companion  of  the  king  and  an  influential  courtier,  whose  in- 
terest was  solicited  by  applicants  for  court  favors,  and  was 
rewarded  by  Charles  with  tiie  grant  of  a  considerable  estate  in 
Ireland. 

Morgan,  the  most  noted  of  all  the  pirates  or  buccaneers  in 
the  West  Indies,  was  distmguished  by  Charles  with  the  honor 
of  knighthood. 

The  infamous  and  savage  Colonel  Eirke  affords  another  in- 
stance. Charles,  near  the  close  of  his  reign,  appointed  Eirke, 
who  had  been  notorious  for  his  tyranny  and  cruelties  at  Tan- 
gier, to  be  governor  of  New  England,  with  absolute  authority. 
This  was  soon  after  Massachusetts  had  been  illegally  deprived 
of  her  charter,  so  that  there  would  have  been  no  security 
against  the  barbarity  of  Eirke.  But  James,  when  he  came  to 
the  crown,  did  not  wish  to  part  with  one  whose  disposition  was 
so  congenial  with  his  own,  and  who  was  so  well  fitted  for  lus 
arbitrary  and  cruel  designs.  Instead  of  Eirke,  Sir  Edmund 
Andros  was  sent  as  governor  to  New  England,  a  tyrant  in- 
deed, but  not  quite  so  atrocious  as  Eirke. 

As  to  James  the  Second,  his  conduct  in  Scotland  and  in 
England  showed  a  love  of  arbitrary  power  and  a  delight  in 
persecution  and  cruelty.  A  bigoted  papist  himself,  he  insti- 
tuted a  savage  persecution  against  the  Scottish  Presbyterians 
and  Puritans  for  not  conforming  to  the  church  of  England. 
In  this  persecution  thousands  perished  by  the  sword,  famme, 
or  imprisonment,  and  many  thousand  families  were  utterly 
ruined.  And  what  was  the  object  of  this  persecution  ?  Not 
to  convert  them  to  what  he  believed  to  be  the  true  religion,  but 


1889.]  Macaulay'B  iRWory  of  Mngland.  337 

to  make  them  change  from  one  false  reli^on  to  another,  that  he 
believed  to  be  equally  false.  The  same  remark  applies,  in 
some  degree,  to  his  brother  Charles,  in  the  persecutions  of  the 
dissenters  m  England,  as  he  was  secretly  a  Roman  Catholic. 
Perhaps,  however,  it  may  be  doing  them  some  injustice  to 
suppose  that  they  were  actuated  by  any  worse  motives  than 
other  persecutors,  though  a  little  more  inconsistent.  As  we 
believe  all  persecution  arises  from  bad  motives,  we  do  not  feel 
certain  that  Charles  and  James  were  any  worse  in  this  respect 
than  their  contemporaries  of  the  established  church,  who  insti- 
gated and  were  actively  engaged  in  carrying  on  these  perse- 
cutions. 

But  for  their  conduct  in  church  and  state  both  Charles 
and  James  may  have  some  excuse  in  the  doctrines  of  divine 
right,  passive  obedience,  and  non-resistance,  so  diligently  in- 
culcated by  the  Church,  as  we  have  just  seen,  and  also  by  the 
Parliament  and  the  University  of  Oxford.  To  a  sovereign 
inclined  to  tyranny  and  persecution,  there  can  be  no  stronger 
temptation  than  the  assurance  that  he  can  indulge  his  bad 
passions  with  impunity.  This  assurance  the  Church,  the  Par- 
liament, and  the  University  of  Oxford  zealously  endeavoured 
to  furnish. 

The  first  parliament  chosen  after  the  Restoration  passed  an 
act,  that  the  power  of  the  sword  was  solely  in  the  Sing,  and 
declared  that  in  no  extremity  whatever  could  the  Parliament 
be  justified  in  resisting  him  by  force. 

By  another  act  all  magistrates  and  officers  of  corporations 
were  required  to  declare  on  oath  their  belief  that  it  was  not 
lawful,  upon  any  pretence  whatever,  to  take  arms  against  the 
king,  and  their  abhorrence  of  the  tr^dtorous  position  of  taking 
arms  by  the  king's  authority  against  his  person,  or  against 
those  cammisHoned  by  him.  A  motion  to  insert  the  word 
lawfully  before  **  commissioned  "  was  rejected. 

The  University  of  Oxford  in  full  convocation  passed  a  de- 
cree "against  certain  pernicious  books  and  damnable  doc- 
trines, destructive  to  the  sacred  persons  of  princes,  their 
state  and  government,  and  all  human  society." 

The  doctrines  condemned  consist  of  twenty-seven  proposi- 
tions taken  from'  the  works  of  Milton,  Buchanan,  Owen,  Bax- 
ter, and  several  others.  One  of  these  damnable  propositions 
is,  **  That  when  kings  subvert  the  constitution  of  their  coun- 
try, and  become  absolute  tyrants,  they  forfeit  their  right  to 
the  government,  and  may  be  resisted."    This  and  other  sim- 

NO.  vn.  23 


838  Macaolaj'g  HUtory  of  England.  [June, 

ilar  propositions,  thej  declare  to  be  ^^  impious,  seditious, 
scandalous,  damnable,  heretical,  blasphemous,  and  infamous 
to  the  Christian  reli^on."  Thej  forbid  the  students  to  read 
the  writings  of  those  authors,  and  order  their  books  to  be 
burnt. 

One  would  suppose  that  the  Parliament,  the  Church,  and 
University  of  Oxford  were  rife  for  slavery.  Charles  and 
James  had  some  excuse  for  taking  them  at  their  word. 

The  history  of  this  period  has  a  peculiar  interest  for  Amer- 
icans, as  bemg  essentially  connected  with  their  own.  The 
revolution  of  1688  was  not  less  a  deliverance  from  arbitrary 
power  for  New  England  than  for  Old.  The  tyranny  of  Sir 
Edmund  Andros  had  become  so  insupportable  that  he  was 
deposed  and  imprisoned,  before  the  success  of  the  revolution 
was  known  here. 

But  though  the  Revolution  was  a  great  blessing  to  the  colo- 
nies, yet  some  of  them  had  much  reason  to  complidn  of  the 
government  under  the  new  settlement.  Massachusetts  could 
not  obtain  a  restoration  of  her  charter,  though  deprived  of  it 
by  a  judgment  acknowledged  to  be  illegal  and  unjust.  Sir 
Edmund  Andros,  so  noted  as  a  tyrant  in  Massachusetts,  was 
rewarded  by  being  sent  out  as  governor  of  Virginia.  The 
Habeas  Corpus  Act,  so  essential  to  freedom,  was  passed  by 
the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts,  but  was  disallowed  and 
repealed  by  the  committee  of  plantations,  at  the  head  of 
which  was  the  famous  Lord  Somers.  It  seems  to  have  been 
the  opinion  of  this  great  constitutional  lawyer  that  the  English 
act  of  Habeas  Corpus  did  not  extend  to  the  colonies,  and 
that  they  could  not  have  this  security  of  freedom  except  from 
the  bounty  of  the  crown. 

The  character  of  William  of  Orange,  the  great  hero  of  the 

IBevolution,  the  idol  of  the  Whigs,  and,  in  former  times,  the 
detestation  of  the  Tories,  is  drawn  at  great  length,  and  in  the 
most  favorable  colors.  He  seems,  mdeed,  with  some  faults 
and  disagreeable  qualities,  to  have  been  on  the  whole  the  best 
and  most  able  of  the  great  public  men  of  the  age.  He  was  tol- 
erant and  liberal  in  his  views  of  religion  and  church  establish- 
ments—  a  great  merit  in  that  age.  A  wise  and  far-sighted 
statesman,  with  an  invincible  courage  and  perseverance  in  a 
contest  which  was  the  cause  not  only  of  England  and  Holland, 
but  of  the  greater  part  of  Europe,  agunst  the  ambition  of 
Loms  the  Fourteenth.  Macaulay  in  this  case,  as  well  as 
some  others,  has  availed  himself  of  important  sources  of  infer- 


1849.]  Macaulaj's  mstory  of  England.  889 

mation  which  do  not  seem  to  have  been  known  to  any  other 
historian,  and  attributes  to  him  more  amiable  qualities  than 
William  was  supposed  to  possess. 

A  very  different  picture  is  given  of  him  by  the  Tories,  which 
we  quote  merely  as  showing  the  extravagance  of  party  zeal. 
Dr.  Johnson,  according  to  Boswell,  pronounced  William  to  be 
the  most  worthless  of  all  scoundrels.     But  then  it  is  to  be 
recollected  thai  the  Doctor  had  an  extraordinary  veneration 
for  Charles  the  Second.     Smollett's  character  of  William  con-  i 
tains  more  point  and  vivacity  than  is  often  found  in  his  history,  \y 
and  probably  shows  the  sentiments  of  the  ultra  Tories  of  that  j 
age.     The  following  is  Smollett's  view  of  the  government  of 
William: 

'*  Certain  it  is,  he  involved  these  kingdoms  in  foreign  connec- 
tions which,  in  all  probability,  will  be  productive  of  their  ruin. 
In  order  to  establish  this  favorite  point,  he  scrupled  not  to  employ 
all  the  engines  of  corruption,  by  which  the  morals  of  the  nation 
were  totally  debauched.  He  procured  a  parliamentary  sanction 
for  a  standing  army,  which  now  seems  to  be  interwoven  in  the 
constitution.  He  introduced  the  pernicious  practice  of  borrowing 
upon  remote  funds ;  an  expedient  that  necessarily  hatched  a  brood 
of  usurers,  brokers,  c>ontractor8,  and  stock-jobbers,  to  prey  upon 
the  vitals  of  their  country.  He  entailed  upon  the  nation  a  grow- 
ing debt,  and  a  system  of  politics  big  with  misery,  despair,  and 
destruction.  To  sum  up  his  character  in  a  few  words  —  William 
was  a  fatalist  in  religion,  indefatigable  in  war,  enterprising  in 
politics,  dead  to  idl  the  warm  and  generous  emotions  of  the  human 
heart,  a  cold  relation,  an  indifferent  husband,  a  disagreeable  man, 
an  ungracious  prince,  and  an  imperious  sovereign." 

The  account  of  William  Penn's  intimacy  with  James,  and 
his  concern  in  some  acts  of  oppression  by  the  king,  his  cour- 
tiers, and  court-ladies,  will  excite  much  surprise,  and  probably 
resentment  in  some  quarters.  If  the  charges  are  true,  it  is 
proper  they  should  be  made  known.  If  they  are  unfounded, 
tiie  Quakers  and  Pennsylvanians  are  abundantly  able  to  vindi- 
cate his  character.  His  reputation  would  bear  a  considerable 
reduction,  and  yet  leave  him  one  of  the  best  among  the  distin- 
guished politicians  of  his  age. 

Macaulay  says  that  it  had  been  the  practice  of  every  English 
government  to  contract  debts.  What  the  Revolution  intro- 
duced was  the  practice  of  honestly  paying  them. 

This  process  of  honestly  paying  the  national  debts  has  been 
extremely  slow  in  its  operation.   At  the  Revolution  the  national 


840  UMitMlBj'B  EUtwy  of  Ihiglmd.  [June, 

debt  was  bnt  little  more  than  one  million  sterling,  it  is  now 
about  eight  hundred  millions.  It  is  true  that  the  interest  has 
been  punctually  paid,  the  public  credit  is  good,  and  any  credi- 
tor who  chooses  m^  receive  payment  by  transferring  his 
claim  to  another.  The  debt,  however,  still  remains  a  burden 
on  the  property  and  industry  of  the  nation.  Hume,  in  his 
essay  on  FubUc  Credit  says,  that  it  would  scarcely  be  more 
imprudent  to  ^ve  a  prodigal  son  a  credit  iiy  every  banker's 
shop  in  London,  than  to  empower  a  statesman  to  draw  bills  in 
this  manner  upon  posterity. 

^'  The  establishment  of  a  public  credit  fruitful  of  marvels,  which 
would  have  seemed  incredible  to  the  statesmen  of  any  former 
age,"  is  enumerated  among  the  blessings  of  the  new  settlement. 
This  is  rather  a  delicate  way  of  treating  the  national  debt.  To 
the  statesmen  of  any  former  age,  the  ability  to  contract  such  a 
debt,  and  the  folly  of  doing  it,  might  have  seemed  equally  in- 
credible. If  nations  contract  debts  they  should  honestly  pay 
them.  But  we  can  hardlv  deem  it  a  cause  for  congratulation, 
that  the  government  have  been  able  to  incur  this  enormous  debt, 
with  an  annual  mterest  of  thirty  millions,  ^^  so  burdensome,  still 
paying,  still  to  owe,"  and  to  mortgage  it  upon  the  lands,  prop- 
erty, and  industry  of  the  nation  for  ever;  if  not  for  ever,  at 
least  for  a  duration  to  which  the  eye  of  man  can  see  no  limit. 

The  national  debt  has  been  mentioned  as  one  of  the  great 
evils  produced  by  the  Revolution,  as  a  part  of  the  price  the 
nation  had  to  pay  for  the  new  settiement  made  by  discarding 
the  Stuarts  and  calling  in  William,  and  to  defray  the  expense 
of  the  wars  necessary  to  support  him  on  the  throne. 

Unfortunately,  the  ministry  and  moneyed  class  found  their 
own  private  interests  promoted  by  thus  anticipating  the  in- 
comes of  future  generations.  The  ministry,  to  avmd  th« 
odium  of  imposing  the  taxes  really  necessary,  or  because  thej 
wanted  a  fund  for  influence  and  corruption,  were  willing  to 
borrow  money  on  terms  profitable  to  the  lenders,  and  leave  it 
to  their  successors  to  provide  for  the  payment.  Washingtoui 
in  his  farewell  address,  with  his  characteristic  wisdom  and 
justice,  cauti(ms  the  people  of  the  United  States  against  ^^  un- 
generously throwing  upon  posterity  the  burden  which  we 
ourselves  ought  to  bear." 

As  our  author,  in  stating  the  purpose  and  objects  of  his 
work,  must  be  supposed  to  express  his  meaning  with  some 
accuracy,  we  will,  at  the  risk  of  being  thought  hypercritical, 
make  a  remark  on  the  expression  appUed  to  the  British  navy. 


1849.]  Macaulay's  HxBtary  of  England.  841 

"  A  maritime  power,  before  which  every  other  maritime  power, 
ancient  or  modem,  sinks  into  insignificance."  This  is  another  of 
the  glories  of  England,  the  boast  of  every  Englishman.  Com- 
parisons are  apt  to  be  odious,  and  some  discretion  is  required  to 
manage  them  without  giving  offence.  It  would  be  idle  to  deny 
the  great  power  of  the  British  navy,  and  that  its  strength  is 
superior  to  every  other ;  but  we  doubt  the  propriety  or  pru- 
dence of  this  boast ;  nations,  like  individuals,  do  not  like  to 
be  reminded  of  their  in^ignificancey  and  neither  France,  Rus- 
sia, nor  America  will  admit  the  correctness  of  the  estimate 
here  made  by  Macaulay  of  their  naval  power. 

A  short  time  prior  to  the  last  war  with  England,  it  was  said 
in  parliament,  that  a  single  English  sloop  of  war,  or  frigate, 
(we  forget  which)  was  able  to  cope  with  the  whole  American 
navy.  This  was  soon  found  to  be  an  error.  In  case  of  any 
future  war  between  the  two  countries  (which  may  Heaven 
avert,)  the  American  navy  would  be  found  not  entirely  insig- 
nificant. De  Tocqueville,  the  distinguished  author  and  states- 
man, who,  of  all  foreign  writers,  has  given  on  the  whole  the 
best  account  of  our  country,  its  institutions  and  prospects, 
devotes  a  chapter  to  what  he  calls  the  commercial  greatness  of 
America,  and  closes  with  this  paragraph : 

<<  I  think  that  the  principal  features  in  the  destiny  of  a  nation, 
as  of  an  individual,  are  generally  indicated  by  their  early  youths 
When  I  see  with  what  spirit  the  Americans  carry  on  commerce^ 
the  facilities  they  enjoy,  and  the  success  they  have  met  with,  I 
cannot  avoid  believing  that  they  will  one  day  become  the  first 
maritime  power  on  the  globe.  They  are  destined  to  acquire  the 
dominion  of  the  seas,  as  the  Romans  were  to  conquer  the  world." 

Now  we  confess  that  we  do  not  entirely  like  this,  and  do  not 
wish  that  our  own  country,  or  any  other,  should  be  any  strong- 
er at  sea  than  is  necessary  for  its  own  security  and  the  defence 
of  its  just  rights  at  home  and  abroad.  ^^ 

Macaulay  seems  much  of  an  optimist  in  politics.  Whatever 
happens  is  for  the  best,  if  not  for  the  present,  at  least  in  the 
long  run.  The  reign  of  the  sovereigns  commonly  deemed  the 
worst  proved  to  be  the  greatest  blessings.  The  talents  and 
virtues  of  the  first  Norman  kitigs  had  nearly  proved  fatal  to 
England,  but  the  follies  and  vices  of  John  were  her  salvation. 
Again,  ijf  the  administration  of  James  the  First  had  been  able 
and  splendid,  it  would  probably  have  been  fatal  to  the  country. 


842  Macaula/s  History  of  England.  [Jane, 

Under  the  reign  of  his  successor,  Charles  the  First,  there 
was  another  narrow  escape.  The  laws  and  liberties  of  Eng- 
land, on  the  brink  of  destruction,  were  happily  saved  by  the 
wanton  and  criminal  attempt  of  Charles  to  force  upon  the  Scots 
the  English  liturgy  and  established  church.  Another  and  final 
deliverance  from  tyranny  by  the  folly  and  madness  of  James 
the  Second.  If  the  king  had  not  attacked  the  Church,  the 
institution  most  venerated  by  Englishmen,  he  would  probably 
have  been  quietly  permitted  to  prosecute  his  plan  of  establish- 
ing arbitrary  power  in  the  state. 

This  seeming  propensity  for  paradox  reminds  one  of  Gib- 
bon's remark  upon  the  clergy,  tnat  to  a  philosophic  mind  their 
vices  are  far  less  dangerous  than  their  virtues.  A  proposition 
which,  by  the  way,  we  think  is  contradicted  by  all  ecclesiasti- 
cal history. 

There  is,  however,  some  plausibility  in  these  views  of 
Macaulay,  and  in  the  instances  mentioned  and  perhaps  many 
others,  they  may  be  substantiallv  just.  How  happy  for  a 
nation  that,  when  brought  to  the  brink  of  ruin,  it  has  a  per- 
ennial inexhaustible  fountain  of  salvation  in  the  follies,  vices, 
and  crimes  of  its  rulers  ! 

This  disposition  to  look  on  the  favorable  side  of  thing? 
appears  often  throughout  the  work.  Whether  the  Church  or 
the  Isdty  have  the  ascendency,  it  is  all  for  the  good  of  the 
nation,  and  she  owes  a  great  debt  of  gratitude  both  to  Popery 
and  Protestantism. 

"  It  is  difficult  to  say  whether  England  owes  more  to  the  Roman 
Catholic  religion  or  to  the  Reformation.  For  the  amalgamation 
of  races  and  for  the  abolition  of  villanage,  she  is  chiefly  indebted 
to  the  influence  which  the  priesthood  in  the  middle  ages  exercised 
over  the  laity.  For  political  and  intellectual  freedom,  and  for  all 
the  blessings  which  political  and  intellectual  freedom  have  brought 
in  their  train,  she  is  chiefly  indebted  to  the  great  rebellion  of  Uie 
laity  against  the  priesthood.*' 

The  Long  Parliament  merits  the  lasting  gratitude  of  English- 
men for  their  resistance  to  Charles  the  First,  and  thus  saving 
the  liberties  of  the  country.  The  parliament  that  restored 
Charles  the  Second,  without  any  conditions  to  limit  his  power, 
seized  the  golden  opportunity,  which,  if  lost,  would  have  long 
been  regretted  by  the  friends  of  liberty,  of  placing  on  the  throne 
this  profligate  monarch.  After  the  two  reigns  of  Charles  and 
James,  comprising  nearly  thirty  years  of  oppression,  persecu- 


1849.]  Macanla/s  Mftory  of  England.  343 

tion,  and  almost  every  kind  of  misgOTerament,  at  home,  besides 
a  vassalage  to  France  the  most  disgraceful  m  the  annals  of 
England,  another  parliament  rescued  the  nation  from  Poperj 
and  tyranny  by  the  total  and  final  expulsion  of  the  Stuarts. 

There  seems  much  reason  to  doubt  the  coorectness  of  this 
view  of  the  Restoration.  Macaulay  says  that  ^^  It  has  been 
too  much  the  practice  of  writers  zealous  for  freedom,  to  repre- 
sent the  Restoration  as  a  disastrous  event,  and  to  condemn  the 
folly  or  baseness  of  that  Convention  which  recalled  the  royal 
family  without  exacting  new  securities  against  mal-adminis- 
tration." 

Mr.  Fox,  in  his  fragment  of  the  History  of  the  Reign  of 
James  the  Second,  severely  condemns  the  conduct  of  those 
who,  at  the  Restoration,  made  no  scruple  to  lay  the  nation 
prostrate  at  the  feet  of  a  monarch,  without  a  single  provision 
m  favor  of  the  cause  of  liberty.  Charles  would  have  been 
glad  to  accept  the  crown  on  any  terms.  It  must  have  been  a 
strange  crisis,  indeed,  that  rendered  it  necessary  for  the  salva> 
tion  of  the  people,  to  place  such  a  man  as  Charles  upon  the 
throne  without  a  moment's  delay,  and  without  imposmg  any 
limitation  on  the  royal  prerogative. 

Our  author  gives  a  description  at  considerable  length  of  the 
state  of  England  at  the  accession  of  James  the  Second,  and 
compares  it  with  the  condition  of  England  at  present.  The 
comparison,  of  course,  b  very  much  in  favor  of  its  present 
state,  and  the  contrast  is  probably  much  greater  in  almost 
every  respect  than  most  readers  could  have  supposed.  The 
great  physical,  moral,  and  intellectual  improvement,  in  every 
department,  if  truly  represented,  as  we  must  presume  was 
intended,  is  indeed  a  just  cause  of  congratulation  and  thank- 
fulness. 

The  political,  social,  and  industrial  system  of  England,  since 
the  Revolution,  is  probably  better  fitted  than  any  system  that 
has  been  tried,  in  the  old  world  at  least,  for  very  many  of  the 
objects  thought  most  desirable  in  national  prosperity.  It  has 
been  especially  favorable  to  the  acquisition  of  great  wealth 
and  rapid  progress  in  the  great  departments  of  industry,  in 
agriculture,  commerce,  manufactures,  and  the  mechanic  arts, 
and  in  working  the  various  mines,  a  very  important  branch  in 
England. 

The  wealth  of  the  great  landholders,  merchants,  manufac- 
turers, and  the  moneyed  interest,  is  adequate  to  any  interest  or 
enterprise  on  the  largest  scale.     With  abundant  capital,  witii 


844  Macaulay's  HUtory  of  England.  [Jane, 

labor  at  a  low  rate  to  any  extent  wanted,  and  often  in  excess, 
skilfully  organized  and  directed,  the  advance  in  every  depart- 
ment of  business  and  the  increase  of  wealth  are,  we  believe, 
altogether  without  example. 

The  population  of  England  and  Wales  at  that  time  is  sup- 
posed to  have  been  somewhat  more  than  five  millions,  and  less 
than  one  third  of  its  present  amount.  The  inhabitants  of 
London,  who  are  now  at  least  nineteen  hundred  thousand, 
were  then  probably  a  little  more  than  half  a  million. 

In  the  reign  of  Charles  the  Second,  after  London  no  town 
in  the  kingdom  conttuned  thirty  thousand  inhabitants,  and 
only  four  provincial  towns  contained  so  many  as  ten  thousand. 
This  statement  we  suppose  may  be  true,  but  it  is  very  sur- 
prising, especially  when  we  consider  the  number  of  cities  in 
the  United  States  containing  thirty  thousand  and  upwards, 
and  the  great  number  containing  more  than  ten  thousand. 
Massachusetts  alone  has  twice  the  number  of  towns  contsun- 
ing  ten  thousand  inhabitants. 

The  army  and  navy  of  Charles  the  Second  were  small  com- 
pared with  military  and  naval  establishments  in  England  at 
present.  The  whole  annual  expense  of  the  army,  navy,  ord- 
nance, effective  and  non-effective  service,  was  then  about 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds.  Now  it  is  more 
than  twenty  times  that  amount. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that  the  government  of  the  Stu- 
arts was  a  very  cheap  one  in  a  pecuniary  view,  compared  with 
any  the  English  have  had  since.  Of  all  the  advances  made 
in  the  rapid  march  of  improvement  in  England  smce  the  Rev- 
olution, the  greatest  advance  has  been  in  taxation  and  public 
expenditure ! 

If  the  wellbeing  of  a  nation  depended  on  the  amount  of 
its  wealth,  however  unequally  distributed,  then  England  would 
be  the  happiest  country  m  the  world.  But  we  believe  the 
happiness  of  a  people  depends  less  on  the  amount,  than  on 
the  general  diffusion  of  property,  so  as  to  afford  a  comfortable 
livelihood,  and  the  means  of  education  and  improvement  to 
the  laboring  classes.  If  this  be  so,  there  is  much  cause  for 
regret  as  well  as  congratulation  in  the  present  condition  of 
Great  Britain. 

There  are  some  principles  in  the  English  political  and  social 
system  that  are  passed  over  in  the  work  before  us  without 
much  notice,  which  seem  to  us  to  merit  consideration  both  as  to 
their  present  effects  and  future  tendency. 


1849.] 


Macaulaj's  MUtory  of  England.  845 


The  historian  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Em- 
pire, in  his  admirable  chapter  on  the  Roman  or  Civil  Law, 
says,  that  "  the  insolent  prerogative  of  primogeniture  was  un- 
known to  the  Romans.  The  two  sexes  were  placed  on  a  just 
level,  and  all  the  sons  and  daughters  were  entitled  to  an 
equal  portion  of  the  patrimonial  estate." 

Among  the  Athenians,  the  sons  all  shared  equally  the  pa- 
ternal inheritance.  The  daughters  seem  to  have  been  left  in 
a  great  measure,  if  not  altogether,  to  the  mercy  or  discretion 
of  their  brothers.  In  case  there  were  no  sons,  the  daughters 
inherited  equally. 

The  law  of  primogeniture  was  not  known  to  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  but  was  introduced  into  England  with  the  feudal 
system,  by  the  Norman  conquest.  This  principle,  by  which 
the  oldest  son  alone  inherits  all  the  landed  or  real  property, 
has  been  in  force  in  England  ever  since,  and  has  contributed 
more  than  any  thing  else  to  form  the  government  and  social 
system  as  they  exist  at  the  present  day.  It  is  the  foundation 
and  security  of  the  aristocracy,  of  their  power  and. influence 
in  the  state,  and  the  advantages  of  their  social  position. 

Primogeniture  not  only  prevents  the  division  of  great  es- 
tates, but,  in  connection  with  other  causes,  is  continually 
diminishing  the  number  of  landed  proprietors.  It  often  hap- 
pens that  by  the  failure  of  heirs  in  great  families,  or  the 
course  of  descent,  or  by  purchase,  that  two  or  three  great 
estates  are  united,  and  once  united  are  never  again  divided. 

This  process  is  remarkably  illustrated  in  the  case  of  the 
present  Duke  of  Sutherland.  As  this  example  shows  better 
than  any  mere  description  could  do,  how  a  considerable  num- 
ber of  even  great  estates  may  be  united  in  one,  we  quote 
from  the  London  Quarterly  Review  the  following  account  of 
the  Sutherland  Estate  and  Improvements.  The  complacency 
with  which  the  reviewer  dwells  on  this  accumulation,  and  his 
aristocratic  tone  and  style,  are  somewhat  amusing. 

*'  The  estate  attached  to  the  earldom  of  Sutherland  (one  of  the 
oldest  dignities  in  this  empire)  was  supposed  at  the  time  when 
the  late  countess  married  Lord  Gower,  afterwards  Marquis  of 
Stafford,  and  finally  created  Duke  of  Sutherland,  to  comprise  no 
less  than  800,000  acres  —  a  vast  possession,  but  from  which  its 
owners  had  never  derived  more  than  a  very  small  revenue.  The 
Countess,  a  woman  of  remarkable  talents,  was  enthusiastically 
attached  to  her  ancestral  district ;  and  felt  for  its  inhabitants  of 
all  orders,  as  was  natural  after  a  connection  lost  in  the  night  of 


346  Macaulaj'd  History  of  England.  [June/ 

ages,  during  which  her  house  had  enjoyed  the  support  of  their 
clansmen  and  vassals  in  many  a  struggle  and  danger.  She  had 
the  spirit  and  heart  of  a  genuine  chieftainess ;  and  the  name  of 
the  Ban  Mhoir-f  hear  Chattaibh  —  the  Great  Lady  of  the  Country 
of  the  Clan  Chattan  —  will  be  proudly  and  affectionately  remem- 
bered in  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  many  a  year  after  the  grace- 
ful Countess  and  Duchess  is  forgotten  in  the  courts  and  palaces 
of  which  she  was  for  a  long  period  one  of  the  most  brilliant  or- 
naments. To  her  English  alliance,  however,  her  lasting  fame  in 
her  own  district  will  be  mainly  due.  Her  lord  inherited  one  very 
great  fortune  in  this  part  of  the  kingdom,  and  ultimately  wielded 
the  resources  of  another  not  less  productive ;  and  though,  as  Mr. 
Loch's  book  records,  no  English  nobleman  ever  did  more  for  the 
improvement  of  his  English  estates,  he  also  entered  with  the 
warmest  zeal  into  his  lady's  feelings  as  to  her  ancient  heritage: 
he  added  to  it  by  purchase,  various  considerable  adjoining  estates, 
which  fell  from  time  to  time  into  the  market,  and  finally,  in  1829, 
one  neighbouring  mass  of  land,  the  whole  estate  or  country  of 
Lord  Reay,  which  alone  comprised  not  much  less  than  500,000 
acres.  It  appears  that  from  1829  the  whole  northern  territory 
of  the  Duke  must  have  amounted  to  nearly,  if  not  quite  1,500,- 
000  acres  —  a  single  estate  certainly  not  in  these  days  equalled 
in  the  British  empire,  and  this  in  the  hands  of  the  same  peer  who 
enjoyed  also  the  English  estates  of  the  Gowers  and  Levesons, 
with  the  canal  property  of  the  Bridge  waters."  '^ 

Here  is  the  process  on  a  great  scale  of  extinguishing  both 
large  and  small  estates.  This  shows  how  landed  proprietors 
are  rapidly  diminished  in  number,  and  enormous  estates  or 
principalities  formed.  In  two  generations,  by  marriage,  by 
purchase,  by  inheritance  and  bequest,  five  very  large  and 
several  considerable  estates  are  united  in  one.  In  Scotland, 
to  one  great  estate  of  800,000  acres,  is  added  another  of 
600,000,  besides  several  others  very  considerable  in  extent. 
All  this  comes  into  the  hands  of  the  same  peer  who  has  three 
very  great  estates  in  England.  The  estate  in  Scotland  alone 
is  more  than  twice  as  large  as  the  state  of  Rhode  Island,  and 
comprises  in  extent,  though  not  in  value,  between  a  thirtieth 
and  fortieth  part  of  the  territory  of  the  island  of  Great 
Britain. 

According  to  our  author,  at  the  accession  of  James  the 
Second  the  number  of  small  landed  proprietors  who  cultivated 
their  own  estates,  was,  so  far  as  can  be  ascertained  from  the 
best  statistical  writers  of  that  age,  not  less  than  one  hundred 
and  sixty  thousand,  who  with  their  families  made  up  more 


1849.]  Macaula/s  EUtory  of  England.  347 

ilian  a  seventh  part  of  the  whole  population.  These  small 
estates  are  now  nearly  all  extinct.  At  that  time  the  number 
who  cultivated  their  own  land  was  greater  than  the  number 
of  those  who  farmed  the  land  of  others.  Now  it  is  estimated 
that  not  one  hundredth  part  of  the  land  in  England  is  culti- 
vated bj  the  owner. 

The  enormous  wealth  produced  by  commerce  and  manufac- 
tures, instead  of  occasioning  any  division  of  the  great  landed 
estates,  has  had  a  directly  opposite  tendency.  The  rich  mer- 
chant, manufacturer,  banker,  or  fortunate  speculator  invests 
a  part  of  his  wealth  in  land,  and  as  the  very  large  estates  are 
rarely  for  sale,  he  buys  the  smaller  ones  wherever  they  can 
be  obtained,  perhaps  in  several  diflferent  counties.  When  a 
number  of  small,  or  moderate,  or  even  large  estates  are 
thus  formed  into  one,  they  are  seldom  or  never  separated. 

This  seems  to  be  a  melancholy,  disastrous  change  in  the 
social  system  of  England,  but  we  believe  most  of  the  British 
political  economists  not  only  see  no  cause  of  alarm  in  this 
extinction  of  the  smaller  landed  properties,  but  consider  it  as 
one  cause  of  the  great  agricultural  improvements,  and  the 
great  increase  of  national  wealth.  A  few,  however,  among 
whom  is  John  Stuart  Mill,  the  author  of  the  work  on  Politi- 
cal Economy,  consider  the  English  system  as  afifording  ground 
for  apprehension,  and  view  with  some  complacency  the  condi- 
tion of  the  French  agricultural  population,  four  fifths  of  whom 
are  said  to  cultivate  their  own  land.  But  whether  for  good 
or  evil,  we  suppose  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  the  fact,  that  by 
the  operation  of  the  causes  mentioned,  and  perhaps  of  others, 
the  number  of  landed  proprietors  has  been  for  the  last  one 
hundred  and  sixty  years  continually  diminishing,  that  nearly 
all  the  land  is  held  by  a  comparatively  small  number  of  own- 
ers, and  that  the  diminution  is  still  going  on  as  rapidly  as 
ever.  Indeed,  according  to  all  accounts,  the  process  of  the 
accumulation  of  large  landed  properties  and  the  extinction  of 
small  ones  is  proceeding  with  a  continually  increasing  velocity. 

Mobilitate  viget,  viresque  acquirit  eundo. 

During  the  last  few  years  we  have  heard  much  of  the 
reforms  in  the  English  government,  the  progress  of  liberal 
principles,  and  the  increasing  power  of  popular  opinion.  It  is 
supposed  by  many  that  the  influence  of  the  aristocracy  is  on 
the  decline,  that  the  common  people  have  gained  as  the 
nobility  and  privileged  orders  have  lost,  so  that  the  advantages 


348  Macaulay's  History  of  England.  [June, 

of  English  institntions  are  shared  less  unequally  than  formerly 
among  the  diflferent  classes  of  the  community. 

Popular  opinion  has  no  doubt  much  greater  influence  on  the 
measures  of  government  and  the  conduct  of  men  in  office, 
than  during  the  last  century.  Whatever  changes  have  been 
made  to  enlarge  the  political  power  of  the  people,  and  to 
relieve  them  from  unnecessary  and  oppressive  burdens,  is  to 
be  ascribed  chiefly  to  this  cause.  The  privileged  orders  have 
parted  with  no  portion  of  their  power  until  they  were  con- 
vinced it  was  no  longer  possible  to  keep  it.  Notwithstanding 
these  concessions  to  the  popular  demands,  we  think  there  is 
reason  to  doubt  whether  the  aristocratic  principle  pervading 
the  political  and  social  institutions  of  England  has  been  much, 
if  at  all,  weakened.  On  the  other  hand,  in  several  important 
respects  the  aristocracy  appears  stronger  than  ever. 

The  English  government,  at  least  ever  since  the  revolution 
in  1638,  has  been  practically  an  aristocracy  of  which  the 
sovereign  is  the  nominal  head.  Lord  Brougham  remarks  that 
England  is  the  most  aristocratic  nation  in  Europe,  and  a 
glance  at  English  institutions  will  show  how  the  aristocratic 
principle  runs  through  them  all. 

The  Reform  Bill  has  enlarged  the  number  of  voters,  and 
some  changes  have  been  made  m  favor  of  the  popular  principle 
in  mimicipal  corporations.  But  the  aristocracy  have  the 
entire  control  of  all  the  offices  of  honor  and  emolument  in 
church  and  state,  in  the  army  and  navy,  at  home  and  abroad. 

The  following  extract  from  a  late  number  of  the  Edinburgh 
Review  presents  a  striking,  and  probably,  so  far  as  it  goes,  a 
just  view  of  the  political  and  social  state  of  England. 

"  To  a  superficial  glance  at  the  condition  of  our  own  country, 
nothing  can  seem  more  unlike  any  tendency  to  equality  of  condi- 
tion. The  inequalities  of  property  are  apparently  greater  than 
in  any  former  period  of  history.  Nearly  all  the  land  is  parcelled 
cot  in  great  estates  among  comparatively  few  families ;  and  it  is 
not  the  large  but  the  small  properties  which  are  in  process  of 
extinction.  An  hereditary  and  titled  nobility,  more  potent  by  their 
vast  possessions  than  by  their  social  precedency,  are  constitution- 
ally and  really  one  of  the  great  powers  in  the  state.  To  form 
part  of  their  order  is  what  every  ambitious  man  aspires  to  as  the 
crowning  glory  of  a  successful  career.  The  passion  for  equality, 
of  which  M.  de  Tocqueville  speaks  almost  as  if  it  were  the  great 
fever  of  modem  times,  is  hardly  known  in  this  country,  even  by 
name.     On  the  contrary,  all  ranks  seem  to  have  a  passion  for 


1849.]  Macaulay's  HUtmT/  of  England.  S49 

inequality.  The  hopes  of  every  person  are  directed  to  rising  in 
the  world,  not  to  pulling  the  world  down  to  him.  The  greatest 
enemy  of  the  political  conduct  of  the  House  of  Lords  suhmits  to 
their  superiority  of  rank  as  he  would  to  the  ordinances  of  nature, 
and  often  thinks  any  amount  of  toil  and  watching  repaid  by  a 
nod  of  recognition  from  one  of  their  number."  ♦ 

In  the  army,  the  officers  are  taken  from  the  nobility  and 
gentry  with  hardly  an  exception.  Commissions  are  gener- 
ally obtained  by  purchase,  and  sometimes  by  the  gift  of  the 
commander-in-chief.  The  price  is  beyond  the  ability  of  any 
but  the  rich,  and  rarely  has  any  officer  risen  fi*om  the  ranks. 
Should  a  rich  parvenu  take  a  fancy  to  a  military  life  and  buy 
a  commission,  woe  to  the  unlucky  wight.  His  treatment  from 
the  other  officers  would  soon  make  him  glad  to  sell  or  to 
resign  a  place  where  he  b  considered  an  intruder.  The  offi- 
cers of  the  navy  are  generally  taken  from  the  same  class. 

The  pay  and  prize-money  in  the  army  and  navy  are  gradu- 
ated on  the  same  aristocratic  scale.  At  the  capture  of  Ha- 
vana, in  1762,  the  distribution  of  the  prize-money  was  as  fol- 
lows. Admiral  Pococke  commanding  the  naval  forces  had  for 
his  share  upwards  of  £122,000 ;  the  captains,  £1,600 ;  lieu- 
tenants, <£234;  petty  officers,  £17;  sailors  and  marines  be- 
tween three  and  four  pounds.  Lord  Albemarle,  commander 
of  the  land  forces,  had  the  same  as  the  Admiral ;  the  field  of- 
ficers, £564 ;  captains,  £164 ;  private  soldiers,  £4,  la,  8df. 
There  was,  however,  much  complaint  that  this  distribution  was 
not  exactly  conformable  to  the  former  practice.  The  distribu- 
tion of  the  prize  money  to  the  English  army  at  the  capture  of 
Paris  after  the  battle  of  Waterloo  was  made  by  proclamation 
at  London,  and  was  probably  agreeable  to  the  established  rules 
of  the  service. 

To  the  Duke  of  Wellmgton,    £61,000 

General  Officers,        .         .  1,274  10«.  IM. 

Field  Officers,    ...  433      4  4 

Captains,           ...  90      7  3 

Subalterns,         ...  34  14  9 

Sergeants,  Corporals,  &c.    .  14      4  4 

Private  Soldiers,         .         .  2  11  ^  4 

This  is  the  partnership  of  the  giant  and  the  dwarf.     The 


«  EiiiJlfwrgh  Ritiew,  No.  CXLY. 


850  Macaulay's  Bxstory  of  England.  [ June, 

commander  gets  all  the  honor  and  profits,  the  soldier  the 
losses  and  blows.  This  is  apt  to  be  the  case  in  all  wars  ;  and 
party  contests  are  too  often  the  "  madness  of  many  for  the 
gain  of  a  few." 

The  proportion  between  the  pay  of  the  officers  and  soldiers 
in  the  armies  of  the  ancient  republics,  compared  with  the 
practice  in  all  modem  nations,  is  very  curious. 

When  Xenopbon,  after  the  retreat  of  the  ten  thousand, 
engaged  himself  and  six  thousand  of  the  Greek  army  in  the 
service  of  a  Thracian  prince,  the  terms  of  pay  were,  to  each 
soldier,  one  daric  a  month  ;  each  captain,  two  darics  ;  and  to 
2ienophon,  the  general  and  commander,  four  darics. 

Among  the  Romans,  Polybius  says  the  pay  of  a  centurion 
was  only  double  that  of  a  private  soldier. 

It  appears  from  Demosthenes,  that  the  pay  of  an  Athenian 
ambassador  in  his  time  was  not  more  than  that  of  a  common 
soldier. 

The  annual  income  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  of  England  was 
formerly  as  much  as  £20,000,  and  besides  he  had  many 
lucrative  offices  at  his  disposal.  We  believe  it  has  been  re- 
duced by  the  Whig  government  to  £14,000,  with  a  retiring 
pension  of  £5,000.  The  salaries  of  the  Judges  are  from 
£5,500  to  £10,000  a-year.  We  do  not  mention  these  in- 
stances of  salaries  as  extravagant,  under  the  existing  circum- 
stances. They  are  probably  not  higher  than  is  required  by  the 
nature  of  the  government,  and  the  state  of  English  society. 

In  the  church  the  bishops,  archbishops,  and  other  digni- 
taries, enjoy  very  ample  revenues,  from  one  or  two  thousand 
to  twenty  thousand  pounds  a-year.  These,  with  some  excep- 
tions, are  given  to  the  relatives  of  the  nobility  and  gentry, 
younger  brothers  and  cousins.  The  majority  of  the  clergy 
seem  sufficiently  removed  from  the  temptations  of  wealth. 
In  about  five  thousand  parishes,  a  few  years  since,  there  was 
no  resident  clergyman,  and  the  religious  services  were  per- 
formed, as  far  as  they  were  performed  at  all,  by  curates.  Of 
this  portion  of  the  clergy  the  compensation  varies  from  ten  to 
a  hundred  pounds  annually,  in  few  instances  exceeding  the 
latter  sum. 

The  bishops  often  amass  large  fortunes.  Bishop  Tomline, 
the  private  tutor  of  the  late  William  Pitt,  was  said  to  have 
left  an  estate  of  £700,000,  and  we  not  unfrequently  hear  of 
a  dignitary  of  the  church  in  England,  and  especially  in  Ire- 
land, leaving  at  his  decease  from  one  to  several  hundred  thou- 


1849.]  Macaulay's  EUtary  of  England.  861 

Band  pounds.  The  late  reform  of  the  church  has  introduced 
a  greater  equality  in  the  salaries  of  the  bishops  and  archbish- 
ops, varying  from  X4,500  to  X20,000. 

In  respect  to  the  church,  however,  we  have  no  idea  that 
any  attempt  to  abolish  or  diminish  tithes  would  be  of  any  ser- 
vice to  the  tenants,  or  afford  any  relief  to  the  people  in  gen- 
eral. The  whole  benefit  would  go  to  the  landlords.  There 
is  much  reason  in  the  sentiment  of  Burke,  that  a  Bishop  of 
Durham  or  Winchester  may  as  well  have  £10,000  a-year  as 
an  earl  or  a  squire,  although  it  may  be  true  that  so  many 
dogs  and  horses  are  not  kept  by  the  former,  and  fed  with  the 
victuals  which  ought  to  nourish  the  children  of  the  poor  peo- 
ple. In  the  reformation  of  the  church  by  Henry  the  Eighth, 
the  confiscation  of  a  greater  part  of  the  church  property 
served  only  to  enrich  the  crown  and  a  few  greedy  courtiers. 
The  estates  of  several  among  the  most  wealthy  of  the  nobility 
and  gentry  in  England,  it  is  well  known,  were  derived  from 
the  plunder  of  the  abbeys,  monasteries,  and  convents.  Such 
an  origin  of  a  great  estate  as  the  Duke  of  Bedford's,  so  elo- 
quently described  by  Burke,  in  his  "  Letter  to  a  noble  Lord," 
is  not  peculiar  to  the  Russell  family. 

The  rich  plunder  expected  from  the  great  wealth  of  the 
church  was  no  doubt  one  of  the  main  causes  of  the  reforma- 
tion in  England,  so  far  as  relates  to  Henry  the  Eighth  and 
his  courtiers,  especially  the  latter.  The  motive  assigned  by 
the  poet  Gray,  with  much  wit  as  well  as  gallantry,  for  the 
conduct  of  the  great  reformer  of  the  church,  was  the  prima- 
ry, but  not  the  only  one. 

"  'T  was  love  that  taught  this  monarch  to  he  wise, 
And  gospel  light  first  beamed  from  Bullen's  ejcs." 

Henry's  love  for  the  property  of  the  rich  abbeys  and  mon- 
asteries proved  far  more  lasting  than  his  affection  for  Anne 
Bullen,  and  his  reforms  were  continued  long  after  the  unfortu- 
nate queen  ceased  to  influence  her  imperious  husband. 

The  lucrative  civil  oflSces  are  shared  by  the  arbtocracy  and 
their  dependents,  except  in  a  few  instances  where  extraordi- 
nary skill  or  industry  is  required,  and  which  must  be  had 
wherever  they  can  be  found. 

The  mercantile,  manufacturing,  and  moneyed  interests  have 
long  had  great  influence  in  the  policy  and  measures  of  the  Brit- 
ish government.  Though  the  representatives  of  these  classes 
have  always  been  in  number  a  minority  in  parliament,  yet 


852  Macaulay's  Exstory  ofJSngland.  [June, 

from  their  superior  activity  and  sagacity  with  regard  to  their 
own  interest,  they  have  frequently  obtsuned  undue  advantages 
from  the  government,  and  are,  on  the  whole,  much  more  fa- 
vored in  the  public  burdens  than  the  agriculturists.  The  rich 
merchants,  manufacturers,  and  bankers  may  be  c<»ksidered 
either  as  members,  or  as  allies  and  supporters  of  the  aristoc- 
racy. 

The  House  of  Lords  is  now  far  superior  to  that  assembly, 
when,  about  eighty  years  ago,  it  was  called  by  Lord  Chester- 
field the  Hospital  of  Incurables.  This  is  owmg  chiefly  to 
continual  recruits  of  the  most  distinguished  commoners,  who 
have,  since  the  accession  of  George  the  Third,  tripled  the 
number  of  the  Upper  House.  In  point  of  talent,  wealth, 
personal  influence,  and  weight  of  character,  it  probably  stands 
much  higher  than  at  any  former  period.  Take  from  the 
House  of  Lords  the  families  that  have  been  ennobled  during 
the  last  dixty  years,  and  though  its  legal  and  constitutional 
power  would  be  the  same,  its  real  power  and  influence  would 
be  comparatively  insignificant. 

These  continual  accessions  from  the  ranks  of  the  commons 
are  the  vivifying  principle  of  the  nobility,  giving  it  health, 
strength,  wealth,  talent,  and  influence.  The  leading  common- 
ers, the  most  distinguished  men  in  political  life,  in  the  law, 
army,  navy,  and  church,  and  in  the  landed,  moneyed,  commer- 
cial, and  manufacturing  interests,  do  not  wish  to  diminish  the 
power  or  privileges  of  an  assembly  of  which  they  may  hope 
to  be  one  day  members,  and  which,  at  any  rate,  they  consider 
as  indispensable  to  the  continuance  of  the  present  political 
system. 

One  of  the  best  founded  complaints  against  the  English 
government  is  the  neglect  to  provide  for  the  education  of  the 
common  people.  No  public  provision  is  made  for  this  object, 
at  least  none  worth  mentioning,  except  so  far  as  it  may  be 
supposed  to  come  within  the  duties  required  by  law,  or  custom 
from  the  clergy  of  the  established  church.  While  so  much 
is  doing  iu'  Prussia  and  several  other  countries  on  tike  conti- 
nent at  the  public  expense,  though  much  has  been  said  and 
written  in  England  in  favor  of  a  general  system  of  education, 
we  hardly  recollect  any  measure  of  the  government  for  this 
purpose  except  the  grant  a  few  years  since  of  £30,000  for 
the  education  of  teachers. 

It  may  be  supposed  of  course  that  the  same  neglect  would 
extend  to  the  English  colonies  and  dependencies,  or  whatever 


1849.]  Macaolay's  SSttofy  of  England.  Zbt 

territories  were  added  by  conqtiest  or  otherwise  to  the  Bri1^& 
empire.  In  Ireland  and  Wales,  their  old  institutions  for  edu- 
eation  were  broken  up  by  the  English  at  the  Conquest,  and  no 
new  system  est^lished,  and  the  mass  of  the  people  left  in 
ignorance  to  this  day.  F<Hr  the  public  school  system  in  New 
!ll^gland  we  are  not  indebted  to  the  English  government  or  in^ 
stitutions,  but  to  the  piety  and  wisdom  of  our  Ihiritan  ancestors. 

We  are  much  inclined  to  doubt  whether,  in  any  country 
where  a  privileged  order  of  men  have  in  fSsust  the  control  of 
the  government,  any  public  system  for  the  education  of  the 
people  ever  has  been,  or  is  likely  to  be,  carried  into  practice, 
in  a  republic  without  any  privileged  class,  enlightened  men 
feel  a  common  interest  in  educating  the  people  so  far  as  to 
make  them  good  citizens  and  qualify  them  for  the  duties  which 
orcUnary  men  may  be  called  on  to  perform  in  such  a  commu- 
nity. The  general  diffusion  of  knowledge  is  considered  one 
of  the  best  securities  for  the  peace  and  prosperity  of  the 
country.  In  a  monarchy  where  the  sovereign  has  the  entire 
power,  such  a  system  of  general  education  may  be  formed  ana 
carried  into  execution,  as  in  Prussia  and  several  of  the  states 
of  Germany.  Where  the  monarchical  or  the  democratic  lee- 
ment  has  the  real  ascendency,  the  government  may  feel  an 
interest  in  educating  the  people. 

Perhaps  the  case  of  Scotland  may  be  thought  an  exception : 
but  in  Scotland  the  system  of  general  education  was  estab- 
lished by  the  Presbyterians  in  the  time  of  the  Solemn  League 
and  Covenant,  from  tlie  influence  of  popular  freedom  and 
religious  enthusiasm.  It  was  repealed  at  the  Restoration,  but 
the  Scots  obtained  the  reestablishment  of  it  at  the  revolution 
of  1688. 

We  believe  education  one  of  the  most  essential  duties  which 
society  owes  to  its  members.  But  what  is  a  good  education, 
and  what  will  best  fit  them  for  the  duties  they  ma^  be  called 
on  to  discharge,  and  the  place  they  may  probably  fill,  is  a  very 
important  question.  The  governing  powers  in  England  have 
not  yet  determined  that  any  system  is  to  be  adopted,  or  tiist 
any  general  one  is  expedient ;  and  lookmg  at  the  continuance 
and  stabifity  of  their  present  political  institutions,  it  may  not 
be  80  e^^  a  question  as  we  imagme.  For  instance,  what 
education  is  best  for  an  English  sailor  who  may  be  impressed 
and  compelled  to  serve  many  years  under  the  discipline  of  a 
British  man  of  war,  with  littie  or  no  chance  of  promotion ;  or 
for  the  common  soldier,  who  in  an  army  officered  by  gentlemea 

KO.  yn.  24 


864  Maoaday's  Euik^ry  of  EngUmd.  [ Jttne, 

can  very  rarely  rise  aboye  the  ranks;  or  for  the  laboring 
classes  in  their  present  condition  ?  No  education  can  remedy 
most  of  the  evils  which  are  felt  by  the  laboring  classes.  Ed- 
ucation cannot  give  them  employment,  food,  or  clothing,  and 
perhaps  would  only  make  them  discontented  with  the  iney- 
itable  hardships  of  their  condition.  There  is  very  littie  rea- 
son to  suppose  that  the  goyemment  have  any  such  object  in 
yiew  as  eaucating  the  common  people  at  the  public  expense. 

According  to  M.  De  Tocqueville  an  aristocratic  goyemment 
has  a  great  superiority  oyer  all  others  m  the  ability  with  which 
its  foreign  relations  are  managed.  He  adduces  the  example 
of  the  Romans  and  the  English  m  support  of  this  opinion.  An 
aristocracy,  he  says^  is  a  steadfast  and  enlightened  man  who 
neyer  dies. 

There  may  be  much  truth  in  this,  but  we  think  in  respect 
to  England,  as  much  of  her  success  is  to  be  ascribed  to  nation- 
al character  and  fortunate  situation,  as  to  the  wisdom  of  the 
aristocracy.  England  in  her  foreign  relations  and  m  all  con- 
troyersies  with  otiier  powers  has  unriyalled  advantages.  Her 
insular  situation  and  naval  strength  give  her  means  of  defence 
and  annoyance  possessed  by  no  other  country.  Every  other 
great  nation  of  Europe  has  seen  a  foreign  army  in  its  territory 
and  in  possession  of  its  capital.  But  smce  the  Norman  con- 
quest no  attempt  to  invade  England  has  succeeded,  except  in 
case  of  a  cival  war  or  disputed  succession  to  the  crown,  where 
ik  great  portion  of  the  people  favored  the  enterprise. 

This  security  has  rendered  Englishmen  in  a  great  degree 
strangers  to  the  calamities  of  war  except  as  they  appear  in 
the  shape  of  taxes.  To  their  mmds  war  has  been  associated 
with  the  trophies  of  victory,  the  display  of  British  power  and 
yalor,  the  firing  of  the  Park  and  Tower  guns,  the  thanks  of 
both  houses  of  parliament,  with  honors  and  rewards  to  the 
successful  naval  or  military  commanders.  The  slaughter  of 
the  battle  £eld,  the  sufferings  of  the  wounded,  the  groans  of  the 
dying,  the  burning  of  towns,  the  multitudes  driven  from  their 
sweet  and  cheerful  homes  to  perish  by  cold,  hunger,  or  disease, 
have  in  times  past  made  little  impression  on  their  ima^nation. 
With  the  English  as  with  all  other  nations  success  will  for  a 
time  render  any  war  popular  however  unjustifiable.  It  is  not 
till  they  begin  to  feel  the  losses  and  burdens  of  a  war  that  they 
are  sensible  of  its  impolicy  or  injustice,  and  wish  for  peace. 

This  geographical  position  so  happy  for  the  English,  we 
have  thought  has  sometimes  been  unfortunate  for  other  na- 


1849.]  Maoaola/s  Eit^ry  of  England.  855 

tions,  as  it  has  enabled  and  disposed  England  to  inflict  on 
ihem  ^Q  calamities  of  war,  without  any  serious  dancer  of 
their  being  brought  home  to  her  own  island.  In  the  Ameri- 
can Revolutionary  War  it  is  not  probable  that  so  many  towns 
would  have  been  wantonly  burnt,  and  so  much  private  prop- 
erty destroyed,  if  these  evils  could  have  been  retaliated  upon 
their  authors. 

Government  is  constituted  for  the  good  of  the  whole  society 
and  of  every  member.  The  English  government  like  all  other 
governments  and  social  systems  must  oe  estimated  not  by  any 
theory  or  imaginary  standard  of  perfection,  but  by  its  eflFects 
on  the  well-being  of  the  people.  We  must  judge  of  the  tree 
by  its  fruits.  Mr.  Fox  sidd  bis  defence  of  tiie  Sritish  constif 
tution  was,  not  that  it  was  perfect  or  tallied  with  the  theories 
of  this  man,  or  that  man,  but  that  it  produced  substantial  hap- 
piness to  the  people,  and  if  this  ground  were  taken  away  he 
Knew  not  what  defence  to  make.  We  suppose  this  to  be  the 
true  and  only  satisfactory  ground  on  which  any  political  insti- 
tution or  form  of  society  can  be  defended. 

Macaulay  looks  on  the  favorable  side  of  things,  and  sees 
nothing  but  progress  and  improvement,  though  he  hears  much 
complsdnt  of  decline  and  ruin.  The  nation  in  his  view  is  sound 
at  heart,  has  nothing  of  age  but  its  dignity,  combined  with 
the  vigor  of  youth.  He  tMnks  the  nation  is  going  on  in  a 
course  of  improvement,  preserving  what  is  good  in  its  institu- 
tions, and  reforming  what  is  bad  in  a  peaceable  constitutional 
way.    This  is  undoubtedly  the  true  mode  of  reform. 

But  the  changes  in  civil  society  are  not  confined  to  acts  of 
parliament,  or  measures  of  government.  Time,  says  Bacon,  is 
the  greatest  of  innovators.  Time  and  the  course  of  events 
have  made  the  English  government  and  social  system  what 
tiiey  now  are,  and  may  be  silently  working  greater  changes 
than  any  mmistry  or  political  agitators. 

We  look  with  much  interest  for  the  subsequent  volumes  of 
the  work.  So  far  the  author  has  occupied  the  same  ground 
with  Hume ;  the  second  volume  closing  exactly  at  the  ter- 
mination- of  Hume's  history.  As  our  author  has  already 
devoted  two  fifths  of  the  first  volume  and  the  whole  of  the 
second  to  the  four  years  reign  of  James  II.,  we  presume  he 
intends  to  pass  over  many  of  the  following  years  with  more 
rapid  wheels.  The  task  before  him  is  a  great  and  glorious 
one,  and  we  know  of  no  author  of  whom  there  is  so  much  rea- 
son to  expect  its  successful  accomplishment. 


856  Short  BevUum  and  Notice9.  [Juney 


Art.  IV.  — short  REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES. 

1.  —  Madonna  PiOy  and  Other  JPbems.  By  Jambs  Gregob 
Grant.  In  two  volumes.  London:  Smith,  Elder  &  Co., 
CornhilL     1848.    pp.  x.  320,  xir.  350. 

These  volumes  indicate  a  strong  and  genuine  tendency  to  the 
poetic  form,  rather  than  the  possession  of  any  very  rich  or  rare 
vein  of  the  native  ore  of  poetry,  on  the  part  of  the  author.  A 
large  part  of  a  life  seems  to  have  gone  to  rhyme  here.  Whether 
all  the  honey  was  worth  hiving,  (except  as  every  literary  working 
bee  must  find  a  comfort  in  saving  up  all  whatsoever  vouchers  of 
ite  own  existence,  to  prove  that  it  has  been  productive  in  some 
sense,  that  it  has  at  least  graced  the  world,  if  not  made  very  deep 
marks  on  it,)  is  more  than  we  would  du^  affirm.  But  there  is 
certainly  good  poetry,  and  not  a  little,  stored  up  with  the  rest. 
Every  piece  is  rhythmical,  and  pleasing,  and  artistically  wrought. 
Some  are  bewitchingly  beautiftil. 

Mr.  Grant  seems  to  have  been  early  penetrated  with  a  pro- 
found reverence  for  the  character  of  poet ;  his  whole  collection 
has  a  little  of  the  air  of  a  continued  series  of  attempts  at  another 
vindication  or  "  Defence  of  Poesy."  In  the  upward  pathway  of 
his  aspirations,  he  at  last  met  with  a  type  of  the  character,  which 
his  soul  at  once  accepted  as  a  model,  in  the  poet  Wordsworth, 
to  whom  his  volumes  are  inscribed,  while  they  are  filled  with 
traces  of  his  influence.  Thus,  in  his  lover's  rhapsodies,  he  is  very 
careful  to  mention  that  the  object  of  his  adoration  is  a  thing  of 
"flesh  and  blood/'  not  destitute  of  every-day  qualities,  not  a 
nymph,  nor  a  dryad, 

**Nor  Might  ebe  of  saperlmmaii, 
But  a  Toy,  very  woman ! " 

And  he  has  been  andgathered  sonnets  among  the  ^  Lakes,**  sing- 
ing the  praises  of  *^  Winandermere,"  and  "  I^erwent  Water,"  and 
**the  river  Duddon.**  Doubtless,  the  Wordsworthian  example  umd 
philosophy  have  been  a  good,  strengthening  thing  for  him.  Tem- 
perament had  inclined  him,  we  should  fancy,  quite  another  way ; 
for  there  is  an  undertone  of  sadness,  a  habit  of  the  minor  mode, 
and  a  slight  addiction  to  the  Leigh  Hunt  sentimentality,  spontane- 
ously reappearing  ever  and  anon  in  these  poems.  His  sentiment 
is  always  pure,  his  aspiration  brave  and  constant ;  yet  we  cannot 
call  him  spiritual ;  his  inspiration  is  not  of  the  "third  heaven  ;** 
neither  in  invention  nor  in  tone  does  his  muse  ever  transcend  the 
higher  strata  of  very  current  and  approved,  though  very  good 
and  jnst  and  liberal  thoughts.  The  inward  material  is  not  equal 
to  the  ambition  or  the  power  of  shaping.    His  daieling  aims  and 


1849.]  Short  Rmem  and  Kadeet.  857 

models,  therefore,  cast  him  back  upon  himself;  he  grows  very 
conscious,  and  writes  sonnets  "  On  glancing  over  some  of  my  own 
poems,"  lines  ^  On  being  asked  for  my  aatograph,"  <Scc  It  is  not 
an  offensive  egotism ;  it  is  only  not  the  consciousness  of  genius. 

The  longest  and,  as  we  judge,  the  best  piece  in  these  volumes 
is  ^  Madonna  Pia."  The  subject  is  from  Dante's  PwrgcUorio,  In 
(bur  lines,  under  the  lightning  flash  of  his  intense  imagination,  it 
gleams  through  the  night  of  ages: 

"  Ricorditi  di  me,  chi  son  U  Pi  a: 
Sienna  mi  fe*;  disfeoeroi  Maremma: 
Salsi  colni,  cfae  *nnanellata  pria, 
Dtsposando  m'area  oon  la  sua  gemma.** 

Grant  time  to  bring  it  nearer  and  fill  out  the  living  detail  of  its 
beauty  and  its  traginly,  as  Leigh  Hunt  has  done  with  the  tale  of 
^Rimini";  and  he  is  hardly  less  an  adept  in  the  rose-color  art. 
He  begins  thus  musically : 

"  Madohka  Pf  a  1  tbou  wboM  aentle  ihade 
In  the  sad  Tntcan^s  awful  pau  arose, 
When  in  the  milder  penal  realm  he  strayed,— 
Yet  breathed  no  ronrmor  of  th^  mortal  woes, 
Nor  creatare,  dead  or  living,  didst  upbraid 
With  bringing  thy  sweet  me  to  bitter  dose, — 
Sighing  but  this— -** that  the  Maremma  slew. 
And  he,  the  loved  one,  thy  Pibtra,  kmw — ** 

"Madonna  Pia!  beautiful  w«rt  thou 
Abore  all  beantv  then  upon  the  earth ! 
And  Hope  and  Joy  upon  thv  Heavenly  brow 
Laughea  evermore  with  their  dirinest  mirth  1 
WeU  unto  thee  all  living  thiags  might  bow; 
Thee,  in  the  pride  of  beauty,  «id  of  birth. 
And  youth,  and  boundless  wealth, — which,  even  then, 
Brew  sordid  worship  from  the  souls  of  men: 

"  Yet  not  for  wealth  did  young  Pietra  seek 
This  dazsling  Phanix  of  Sienna's  sky — 
He  saw  an  eminre  on  her  lip  and  cheek, 
An  El- Dorado  in  her  glorious  eye ! 
He  heard  sweet  music  when  he  heard  her  speakj 
Wings  sprang  within  him  when  her  step  drew  nig^ ; 
And  the  least  glance  or  smile  she  threw  on  km 
ICade  all  of  brightness  else  look  cold  and  dim. 

He  then  goes  on  to  describe  the  growing  passion  and  mutual 
eonfession  of  the  lovers,  the  rapture  and  the  foreboding,  in  a  style 
which  shall  testify  for  itself  by  the  production  of  a  stanza  or  two : 

"  Madonna  Pia  told  her  viigin  love 
To  her  yonne  lover  with  sweet  rirgin  pride. 
And  blessed  the  poplar-shadows  from  aboTe 
That  fell  her  blushes  and  her  joy  to  hide  — 
And  panted  with  her  jo^  as  a  young  dove 
Peels  its  heart  pant  against  its  trembling  side. 
When  some  Quick  hand  hath  stolen  on  its  rest, 
And  gently  clutched  it  in  the  quiet  nest** 


858  Short  Beviewi  and  Ifatiee^.  [June, 

'^  A  Htde  ebb,  within  a  little  boor, 
Came  to  these  lovers:  on  Pietra*s  breast 
Madonna  Pia  wept  the  sweetest  shower 
That  erer  calned  a  stormy  joy's  unrest 
And  then  the  voice  of  each,  in  that  calm  bower, 
Came  back,  like  happy  birds,  to  their  loved  nest ; 
And  each  to  each  could  breathe  sweet  words  anew. 
And  talk  of  lore  as  happj  lovers  do.** 

And  now  for  the  turning  point  of  the  story,  which  is  rendered 
thus :  (We  quote  at  length,  as  a  fair  specimen  of  the  whole.) 

"^I  pass  these  raptures — for  these  raptores  passed : 
On  I  then  the  change ! — and  now  the  change  I  telL 
Not  vainly  was  the  cypress-shadow  cast. 
Not  without  import  on  the  stream  it  fell : 
The  debt  to  vei^fefol  Nemesis  amassed 
WiU  have  its  hour — and  she  exacts  it  well : 
Thoogh  human  hearts  (let  but  the  goddess  wait) 
Are  tSeir  own  Nemesis,  or  soon  or  late. 

**  Suns  rose  and  set: — The  Sire,  the  Dame,  the  Priest, 
Had  smiled,  and  prayed,  and  blessed  the  nuptial  tie. 
Moons  waxed  and  waned :  The  bridal  joy  and  feast 
Were  numbered  with  the  thousand  things  gone  by : 
And  in  Sienna's  marts  and  squares  had  ceased 
The  eaze,  the  murmur,  and  the  whisper  sly : 
And  Buttering  gallants  sought  no  more  to  please 
The  wedded  wonder  of  the  Siennese. 

"  Returning  from  a  revel — the  most  bright 
And  joyous  that  Sienna  since  had  known, 
Madonna  Pia,  with  a  heart  more  light 
Than  lightest  rose-leaves  by  the  zephyr  blown. 
As  down  a  terrace  stair-way'is  marble  flight 
(By  many  a  torch  tokd  many  a  cresset  8m)wn) 
Lightly  she  stepped,  chanced  lightly  there  to  smile. 
At  some  fair  thought  that  cres^  her  mind  the  while. 

**  Perchance  some  flash  of  light  and  reckless  mirth 
Heard  where  young  careless  hearts  were  flowing  oV, 
Some  freak  of  playnil  Fancy,  taking  birth 
From  this  or  that  that  others  said  or  wore; 
Some  transient  jest  of  little  blame  or  worth. 
Some  pleasant  nothing,  smiled  at  just  before : 
When  all  is  cloudless  m  the  heart's  zlad  sky. 
Smiles  wander  to  the  lip  we  scarce  know  why. 

''But  hast  thou  never,  gentle  listener,  read 
How,  in  those  olden  days,  with  passion  rile, 
£*en  for  a  look — or  word  at  random  said. 
There  was  the  secret  cell,  the  secret  knife — 
Or  poison  mixed  so  subtly,  strangely  dread. 
That  the  least  touch  was  deadly  bane  to  liie  ? 
Look !  e*en  such  venom's  concentrated  might 
Was  in  Madonna's  smile  that  fatal  night ! 

''For  at  the  moment  when  Pietra's  glance 
Fell  on  that  smile  (oh !  smile  so  peerless  then !) 
And  for  the  cause  shot  round,  b^  evil  chance 
It  fell  oa  one  who  ietmed  to  smile  again. 


1849.]  SObH  Iteinewi  and  Nbtiee9.  S5d 

Better  had  he  who  smiled,  with  poiotlest  Uaoe 
Have  rushed  into  a  hanffnr  lion's  den! 
Better  for  that  sweet  Lady  undefiled 
If  he  had  stabbed  her,  even  as  she  smiled ! 

**Jjo\  the  first  taint  of  canker  in  the  rose — 
Lo!  the  first  gall  and  wormwood  in  the  draught! 
First  rankling  of  a  wound  no  more  to  close  — 
First  random  piercing  of  an  aimless  shaft !  — 
What  thoughts  within  Fietra's  breast  arose ! 
His  Aneel  shuddered,  and  his  Denon  laughed— 
Laughed  to  behold  the  busy  hand  of  sin 
Alr^y  shaping  its  own  hell  within! 

**  Sternly  he  sullened  on  their  homeward  way — 
Sternly  he  sullened  to  their  chamber^oor — 
Sternly  he  left  Madonna  there — a  prey 
To  many  a  bitter  pang  unfelt  before : 
Alone  he  left  her — and  alone  she  lay, 
Wondering  and  weeping  all  this  strangeness  o*er— 
Wondering  and  weeping — pouring  sigh  on  sigh, 
And  asking  her  deaf  pillow  *  Why,  oh  why  % ' 

**  Wrong  and  Remorse  her  prescient  heart  foresaw, 
For  well  her  country's  "yellow  plague"  she  knew; 
Though,  as  a  gem  without  a  speck  or  flaw, 
She  knew  her  own  clear  innocent  spirit  too : 
Sudden — a  hand  her  curtain  strove  to  draw — 
And,  as  she  sprang  to  gaze  on  him  who  drew, 
A  stem  voice  bade  her  *  rise !  and  quick  prepare 
To  journey  with  her  Lonl — he  knew  not  wnere.* 

**  Stem  was  the  bidding —  stem  ihe  bidder's  look: 
She  gazed  upon  his  race,  and  read  therein 
AU  cmel  thoughts  and  deeds,  as  in  a  book; 
Little  of  mercy  —  much  of  wrath  and  sin : 
And  while  bis  parting  steps  the  chamber  shook. 
All  deadly  white  she  grew,  from  brow  to  chin; 
And  rose,  the  fearful  mvstery  to  leara, 
And  with  dread  haste  obeyed  the  bidding  stern. 

**  As  down  some  dusky  stream  a  dving  swan 
Creeps  slow,  slow  down  the  marble  stairs  she  crept, 
Shivering  with  icy  terror, — and,  anon, 
From  out  the  portal's  gloomy  arch-way  atept: 
There  sat  Pietra,  staring  spectral-wan. 
And  ghastly  motionless,  as  if  he  slept 
On  his  dark  steed :  another  neighed  before  her. 
And  to  its  saddle  menial  hands  upbore  her. 

"  Why  spake  he  not  ?  this  dreadful  silence  why  1 
This  timeless  ride  into  the  starless  dark  ? 
Vain  questions  all,  that  with  imploring  eye 
Vainly  she  asked  —  for  there  was  none  to  mark; — 
And  like  to  one  who  under  stormiest  sky 
Puts  forth  on  ocean  in  a  crazy  bark. 
She  felt,  when,  almost  ere  her  lips  could  say 
'O  God  !*  the  dark  steeds  sprang  away — away !  ** 

This  is  but  prelude  to  a  mournful  journal  of  the  transfer  to 
the  tower  in  the  middle  of  the  fatal  marsh  of  Maremma,  and  the 


960  Short  Eem€um  and  Ifatdcei.  [Jnae, 

dow  wasting  of  the  imiooent  and  lovely  Vktim  under  the  insidioas 
poison  of  malaria,  and  the  stonj  silence  of  the  preternatural,  inhu- 
man vengeance  of  the  husband,  who  came  every  day  to  see  her 
waste, 

**  And,  while  the  suppliant  wept  and  prayed  apart, 
Held  him  inexoraDlj  silent  still : 
Raising  her  hot  and  streaming  eyes  anon, 
The  si&nUj-implaoaUe  was  gone. 

"  Oofia-oaad  no  wocd :  and  thus,  all  stemlj  dumb, 
Daily,  for  months,  her  prison  to  and  fro 
Implacable  in  sileaoe  did  he  oome, 
Implacable  in  silence  did  he  go: 
Oh !  list,  poor  victim !  list  the  bittern's  ham, 
List  to  the  sullen  winds  without  that  blow. 
List  to  whate*er  drear  voice  comes  o*er  the  fen-— 
Pietra's  voice  thoul't  never  list  agun  I  ** 

**  Oh  steraeat  gaoler  that  did  ev«r  jet 
Gase  upon  martyred  sweetness,  valtnre-eyed  1— 
Daily  her  miserable  food  he  set— 
With  his  own  hand,  and  trusted  none  beside: — 
And  dailj  thus,  all  wretchedness,  they  met. 
And  daily  thus  they  withered  and  they  died;— 
For  soon,  on  both,  the  pestilential  air 
Of  the  ^^Euiemma  worked  like  poison  there. 

**  Chiefly  on  Air :  the  oil  of  her  sweet  lamp 
With  speedier  ruin  wasted :  lip  and  cheek  '  ' 

Hollowed  and  thinned, — and  the  eternal  damp 
Breathed  from  that  fenny  ocean  wide  and  bleak 
Filled  her  with  palsying  rheum,  and  ache  and  cran^ ; 
Gave  to  her  pallid  brow  a  deathlier  streak, 
And  to  her  eye  that  drear  and  ominous  light 
Which  dimly  beacons  the  long  ceaseless  night  I 

"  Oh !  then,  the  banquet  of  avenging  ill 
The  aveneer  saw  and  felt  was  spreading  fiut  I 
And  RetfiDution's  fiery  hand  should  fill 
Her '  cup  of  trembling '  to  the  brim  at  last  I  — 
tU  saw  ner  drooping — withering  —  sickening  still, 
And  ghostlier  looking  every  day  that  passed ; 
And,  with  a  stem  vindictive  patience,  hore 
Himself,  disease  unfeared,  unfelt  before." 

All  this  is  very  powerfully  told,  and  there  is  not  wanting  a  halo 
of  high  spiritual  beauty  about  the  portrait  of  the  sufferer,  to  re- 
lieve the  natural  horrors  of  the  sacrifice.  The  poet  employs  one 
little  trick  of  euphony  a  great  deal,  and  not  without  a  musical 
effect  It  is  what  would  be  called,  in  musical  composition,  the 
imitation  of  passages  or  phrases.  That  is,  the  echoing  in  the  next 
line  of  a  form  of  words  from  the  line  preceding,  or  from  the  first 
to  the  last  half  of  the  same  line ;  and  this  sometimes  in  the  direct, 
sometimes  in  the  inverted  or  reflected  order ;  which  gives  a  unity 
and  compactness  to  the  stanza,  rhythmically  considered,  like  the 
continual  repetition  of  the  same  little  motive  in  a  good  piece  of 


1849.]  Short  Beviews  and  Notices.  861 

music    I^erfaaps  he  carries  it  too  far  for  poetry.    Here  are  in* 
stances: 

**  I  pan  thai  raptwra — for  theu  rapturtt  poMod: 
Oh !  then  the  cAoiigc/— and  now  the  cnangi  I  teU." 

"  Bat,  midway,  on  the  right,  like  some  Umt  isle 
In  a  lone  lake,  a  lonefy  tower  she  saw — 
Lontbf  and  dark,**  &c. 

**  Their  gloomy  pathway  ghcmUr  shadows  cast" 

"  And  from  the  bUak  sky  to  the  bleaker  shore.** 

And  so  repeatedly.    Sometimes  the  imitation  runs  all  through  a 
stanza,  as  in  the  following,  which  is  very  graphic : 

"  Thither  she  dragged — and  saw  the  fenny  grass 
SulUfdy  wave  o^  all  that  ndlen  lea; 
And  heard  the  bittern  boon  in  the  morass, 
And  saw  the  wild-swan  harrying  to  the  sea; 
And  dreary  gleams,  and  drearier  shadows,  pass 
O'er  lonely  wilds  that  lonelier  ooald  not  be : 
And  then  she  tamed,  all  kopdeeeneee,  within, 
And  felt  that  all  was  kopdetly  akin.''^ 

This  is  like  Spenser: 

**  The  wretched  porter  of  those  wretched  stones, 
He  who  thus  opened,  was  a  si^t  to  see  1 
The  flesh  had  pined  so  from  his  starting  bonee 
That  like  a  living  skeleton  was  he: 
His  breath  was  a  mixed  thing  of  gasps  and  moans, 
And  old  ere  middle  age  he  seem^  to  be: 
Blear-eyed  he  was,  and  vext  with  ache  and  cramp, 
Fed  erermore  by  that  pemidoos  swamp.** 

We  have  not  room  to  go  into  any  critical  invoice  of  the  minor 
poems  which  fill  out  the  volumes.  They  are  of  every  variety,  in 
form  and  subject,  though  mostly  of  the  kind  called  ^  occasional 

S)ems."  Amone  the  best  are  the  ^  fipithalamium,"  the  ^  Lover^s 
hapeody,''  {t^a  la  Wordsworth,)  and  ^'Pale  Student."  Many 
are  written  for  music,  but  they  are  not  simple  enough  for  that ; 
the  words  should  simply  hint  the  theme,  if  music  is  to  develop  it. 
A  tendency  to  too  great  copiousness  of  words  is  frequently  appar- 
ent, as,  for  instance,  in  the  version  of  Goethe's  *'  Das  EtumUin 
Wundertchdn**  The  sonnets  are  beautifully  moulded,  and  have 
the  poetic  tone;  but  there  is  not  always  meaning  enough  in 
them.  He  justifies  the  form  by  prefixing  to  two  separate  batches 
of  them  Wordsworth's  two  sonnets,  one  quoting  authorities  from 
Shakspeare  to  Milton,  and  the  other  likening  the  sonnet  to  '*  the 
prison,  unto  which  we  doom  ourselves,"  and  which,  therefore,  ^  no 
prison  is."  There  is  a  disposition  to  support  the  right  side  in 
some  humanitary  questions,  here  and  there,  as  in  the  condemna- 
tion of  war  in  the  **  Stanzas  on  Waterloo."  We  are  sorry,  how- 
ever, that  the  author  should  have  deemed  it  necessary  to  add  an 


862  Short  Itetnewi  and  Nbtieei.  [June^ 

apologetic  note  to  prove  his  patriotic  revereoce  fbr  the  ^  Grkat 
Victor,"  the  Duke  of  Wellington  I 

We  will  end  with  a  specimen  of  one  style  of  poem,  in  which 
our  author  is  perhaps  as  successful  as  in  any  other. 

THE  SHORTEST  DAY. 

"Pile  ye  the  fa^ot-heap — 

Antamn  is  dead ! 
Winter,  the  idded, 

Reigns  in  his  stead: 
Faster  and  faster 

Come,  Ravage  and  Dearth  I 
Winter,  your  roaster, 

Is  lord  of  the  earth ! 

"  Spread  we  the  feast— 

Bid  the  curtains  be  drawn  — 
Twilight  hath  ceased, 

And  *tis  long  to  the  dawn — 
Hark  to  the  rising  ^nst ! 

Hark  to  the  rain ! 
Hark  to  the  sleety  shower 

Horled  on  the  pane ! 

"  Heap  the  hearth's  splendour  np  — 

Hail  to  the  blaze ! 
If  we  mutt  render  np 

Homage  and  pndse 
To  the  cold  frozen  one 

Nature  obeys, 
Be  thou  our  comforter. 

Shortest  of  days  I 

"With  a  halo  of  glory, 

(As  though  't were  in  soom 
Of  Winter  the  hoarv,) 

Up-springeth  thy  mom ! 
Briefest  of  brief  ones ! 

Thou  yieldest  a  token 
OiM  rod  of  the  Tyrant 

Already  is  broken ! 

**  The  team  to  the  shed. 

And  the  flock  to  the  pen  ^^ 
They  know  not  the  night-ware 

Is  ebbing  again ; 
But  joy,  joy,  to  your  pillows, 

O  children  of  men  1 
LiOHT*8  glorious  billows 

Are  Jlouring  again ! 

**  Dash  the  torch,  and  the  taper, 

And  the  dim  lamp,  away— 
Through  storm  and  through  rapour 

Come,  life-giving  Day  I 
Joy*s  glance,  with  thv  morrow, 

i»>r«  joyous  shall  be, 
And  the  pale  cheek  of  Sorrow 

Grow  brighter  for  thee ! 


1849.]  ShoH  Bmnewi  and  Ifotice$.  863 

"ODwr!  lovely  Day! 

What  a  joy  to  perceive 
Thy  earlier  dawn, 

And  thy  lingering  eve ! 
O  L^t  I  lovely  Light  1 

With  thy  heavenly  ray 
Thon  shalt  scatter  the  might 

Of  bleak  Winter  away !  "* 


2.  —  Die  Gegenwart.    IStes  Heft.    Leipzig.    1849.    (GrafPel- 
legrino  Boesi.) 

"  Nemo  contra  Deum  nisi  Deus  ipse.**  These  are  words  which 
none  should  more  take  to  heart  than  those  who  undertake  to  rule 
the  destinies  of  nations.  The  past  year  evinced  their  truth  to  near- 
ly all  the  rulers  of  Europe,  and  foremost  of  all  to  that  class  of  poli- 
ticians and  diplomatists,  styled  Doctrinaires,  The  man  whose 
name  we  have  placed  at  the  head  of  these  words,  was  the  protdg6 
and  adopted  representative  of  the  founders  of  this  theory,  and  has 
fallen  as  its  victim  with  the  rest.  Theories  and  systems,  invented 
by  men,  if  they  do  not  go  hand  in  hand  with  the  supreme  law  and 
system,  may  apparently  stand  for  a  time,  but  it  is  only  to  fall  the 
deeper. 

The  idea  of  the  ^  historical  development "  of  nations  is  certain- 
ly beautiful  to  contemplate  in  the  present  and  to  trace  in  the  past ; 
it  inspires  the  beholder  with  a  reverence  and  admiration  propor- 
tionately greater  than  watching  the  development  of  the  majestic 
oak  from  its  living  germ  in  the  acorn  to  the  extended  branches  of 
the  full-grown  tree  aspiring  to  heaven.  But  if  a  man  would  un- 
dertake to  guide  and  regulate  the  historical  or  progressive  devel- 
opment of  the  tree,  according  to  his  own  notion  of  the  propriety 
of  growth,  he  would  soon  see  that  his  efforts  were  as  ridiculous  as 
that  of  the  child  we  see  trying  to  stop  up  a  current  with  its  tiny 
bands.  The  doctrinaire  party  in  France  and  all  the  rest  of  Eu- 
rope, under  whatever  name  they  may  parade  their  wisdom,  were 
no  wiser  than  such  a  man  or  such  a  child  would  be. 

To  trace  the  life  of  one  of  these  men  who  took  an  important 
part  in  the  affairs  of  Europe,  is  of  interest  in  more  than  one 
respect  It  must  be  allowed  that  men  of  the  greatest  talent  and 
learning  belonged  to  this  school  of  doctrinaires,  and,  more  than  this, 
they  behaved  with  energy,  perseverance  and  sagacity  to  uphold 
and  carry  out  their  system.  For  this  purpose  they  enlisted  able 
men,  wi&out  distinction  of  country  or  nation,  to  work  for  their 
cause.  Whilst  we  must  admire  and  laud  their  zeal  and  exertions, 
we  cannot  but  infer  from  this  very  fact  that  their  system  was  a 


864  Short  Eevietcs  and  Notieei.  [June, 

false  one,  since  it  has  failed  and  brought  rain  upon  all  its  support- 
erS)  in  spite  of  the  talent,  the  energy  and  sagacity  enlisted  in  its 
behalf 

The  sketch  of  the  life  of  Rossi  which  we  give  below,  translated 
from  the  German,  shows  him  to  have  been  a  man  of  transcendent 
talents,  of  firmness  of  purpose,  and  intelligent  perseverance.  Al- 
though we  will  not  question  his  honesty  in  taking  up  the  cause  for 
which  he  labored,  still  his  uprightness  of  character  is  made  ques- 
tionable by  the  latter  part  of  his  career ;  even  if  we  make  allow- 
ance for  the  helpless  position  in  which  he  was  placed  through  the 
overthrow  of  the  throne  of  his  patron  Louis  Philippe.  To  expect 
uprightness  of  character  from  a  diplomatist  and  politician  seems 
almost  to  be  a  paradox,  but  there  is  yet  a  difference  between 
shrewd  management  in  public  negotiations  and  double  dealing  to 
suit  the  personal  interest  of  a  man.  It  is  this  last  mentioned 
feature  which  we  condemn  in  Rossi,  and  which,  we  think,  brought 
his  life  to  a  violent  end ;  and  while  we  execrate  the  assassin's 
hand  that  committed  the  bloody  deed,  we  cannot  but  be  reminded 
of  the  words  of  the  poet : 

**  m  for  ill  waits  ever  retdy : 
On  the  g^il^poUated  race 
Ketribntion  tteals  apace ;  — 
Jove  weighs  all  with  balance  steady." 

Among  the  statesmen,  diplomatists  and  political  adventurers 
whom  the  finger  of  1848  has  struck  from  the  list  of  actors,  we  be- 
hold the  figure  of  an  Italian  whose  fate  deserves  our  interest  so  mudi 
the  more  because  talents  and  knowledge,  strength  of  character  and 
good  will  indeed  qualified  this  man  to  enter  in  these  new  times 
npon  a  new  and  fruitful  career.  After  having  been  an  advocate 
and  professor  of  law  under  the  dominion  of  Napoleon,  a  respected 
professor  and  statesman  in  the  Calvinist  republic  of  Geneva,  after 
the  July  revolution  a  prot^g^  of  the  French  Doctrinaires,  coun- 
cillor and  ambassador  of  Louis  Philippe  with  the  prospect  of  taking 
the  part  of  a  Mazarin,  and  finally  an  Italian  patriot,  this  Proteus- 
like character  was  on  the  point  of  recovering  for  the  Pope  his 
secular  power,  and  through  the  ambiguous  art  of  diplomacy  of 
restoring  to  order  the  fates  of  Italy,  when  in  the  midst  of  anar- 
chy and  political  fanaticism,  the  hired  blow  of  a  bandit  Imd  him 
low.  What  vicissitudes  of  life  I  What  a  strength  and  versatility 
of  character  which  came  forth  out  of  these  phases,  unimpaired  in 
mind  and  body  and  with  the  capacity  to  undertake  a  new  task  I 

Pellegrino  Lodovico  Eduardo  Rossi,  afterwards  Count  and 
Peer  of  France,  was  born  on  the  18th  of  July.  1787,  at  Carrara  in 
Modena,  of  bourgeois  parents.  He  educated  himself  with  extraor- 
dinary success  to  the  learned  studies,  and  in  the  University  at  Bo- 


1849.]  ShoH  RevUum  mi  N&Uce9.  865 

logna,  at  the  i^  of  Dineteen,  took  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Laws, 
and  at  the  same  time  received  the  office  of  secretary  to  the  Procara- 
tor  Grenend  of  the  court  at  that  place.  When  a  few  years  after- 
wards  he  was  established  as  a  practising  lawyer,  he  proved  a  very 
adroit  and  successful  advocate*  His  knowledge  and  his  love  of  the 
French  law,  which  at  that  time  prevailed  in  the  Italian  peninsula, 
procured  for  him  the  professorship  of  criminal  law  and  penal  {m>- 
cedure  at  Bologna.  At  the  Restoration  in  1814»  the  new  govern- 
ment gave  him  an  office  in  the  Commission  of  the  Reorganization 
of  Romagaa.  However,  in  his  political  sentiments  Rossi  still  ad- 
hered enthrely  to  the  former  enlightened  French  regime,  and  whea 
in  the  following  year  Joachim  Murat  took  possession  of  the  Papal 
state,  he  accepted  from  him  the  office  of  a  civil  commissary  in  the 
conquered  provinces.  This  step  was  of  course  considered  by  the 
party  of  the  Restoration  as  a  political  apostasy,  so  that  Rossi,  upon 
the  expulsion  of  Murat,  abandoned  his  professor's  chair,  and  with 
many  others  of  his  countrymen  sought  for  an  asylum  in  Switzer- 
land,—  Greneva.  Without  property  and  solely  dependent  upoa 
himself,  he  went  fVom  there  to  England  to  seek  for  a  proper 
sphere  of  action,  but  in  1816  he  returned  to  Geneva,  where  he  gave 
private  lectures  on  history,  law,  and  political  economy.  He  wrote 
at  the  same  time  for  the  '*  Biblioth^ue  Universelle,"  and  uniting 
with  Sismondi  and  the  learned  jurist  Bello  he  edited  the  ^'  Annales 
de  legislation,  de  jurisprudence  et  d'^conomie  politique,  **  a  work 
which  was  discontinued  in  1821,  because  its  editors  would  not 
submit  to  the  censorship  of  the  Holy  Alliance.  Rossi  very  soon 
gained  the  confidence  and  respect  of  the  Greneva  aristocracy.  His 
enemies  have  alleged  this  as  a  proof  of  his  chameleon-like  charac- 
ter ;  but  Rossi's  nature  was  quite  suited  to  acquire  influence  in 
this  circle  without  constraint  or  hypocrisy  on  his  part.  His  grave, 
simple,  but  yet  adroit  deportment,  his  enlightened  rationalism 
in  politics,  law,  administration  and  religion,  suited  the  Geneva 
bourgeoisie  quite  well,  on  whom  the  French  Dootrinaireism  of 
Guizot  and  Royer-Cotlard  exercised  great  influence. 

In  the  year  1819,  Rossi  obtained  the  professor's  chair  of  the 
Roman  aad  criminal  law  at  Uie  Geneva  Academy,  which  gave 
him  a  much  more  elevated  positton,  although  his  pecuniary  cir- 
csmstances  were  but  slightly -improved.  He  married,  at  the  same 
lime,  iato  a  distiagnished  family  of  the  city.  It  was  also  at  this 
time  that  he  wrote  his  <<  Trait^  de  droit  p^nal,"  which  was  pub- 
Hshed  at  Paris  in  1829,  (8  vols.)  and  dedicated  to  the  Duke  de 
Broglie,  who  had  various  comrnontcations  with  Greneva,  and  had 
in  this  way  become  aequiunted  with  Rossi,  and  learned  to  esteem 
him.  This  work,  which  was  intended  to  be  only  the  introduction 
to  a  comprehensive  work,  exi^ains  with  great  clearness  the  gen* 
eral  principles  of  penal  law,  according  to  an  enlightened  and  hiH 
aane  system  of  ethics ;  it  insists  on  securing  the  interest  of  sode^ 


866  Short  Eeviewi  and  Nbtiee$.  [June, 

as  well  as  that  of  the  individual ;  it  rejects  confiscation  (as  it  still 
existed  at  that  time  in  England)  and  severe  incarceration,  (sach 
as  was  practised  in  Austria,)  but  vindicates  the  right  of  capital 
punishment  in  a  chapter  which  is  instructive  even  now.  However, 
Rossi  confines  the  right  of  capital  punishment  to  a  few  cases,  and 
hopes,  that  with  the  improved  state  of  morals  it  may  be  entirely 
stricken  from  the  penal  code.  About  the  year  1820,  the  respected 
Professor  received  the  right  of  citizenship  of  Geneva,  and  was 
chosen  into  the  Great  Council  of  the  Republic,  where  he  soon 
gained  predominant  infiuence,  through  his  extensive  knowledge  and 
bis  practical  schemes  of  statesmanship.  He  pointed  out,  although 
with  great  moderation,  the  necessary  reforms  both  of  the  separate 
Cantonal  governments  of  the  Swiss  confederation,  and  of  the  fed- 
eral compact  itself.  It  was  also  through  his  instrumentality  that 
Greneva  made  some  concessions  to  the  democratic  constitutional 
principle,  at  the  time  when  the  constitutions  were  revised  before 
1830.  Afler  the  French  Revolution  of  1830,  when  the  political 
movements  began  to  break  out  more  violently  also  in  Switzerland, 
and  the  liberals  insisted  upon  a  thorough  reform  of  the  fedend 
compact  in  favor  of  a  greater  federal  union,  Rossi  was  sent  by 
Geneva  as  her  envoy  to  the  Diet  which  was  to  attend  to  the  re- 
vision of  the  confederation.  Here,  through  his  extensive  knowl- 
edge, as  well  as  through  the  moderation  with  which  he  represented 
the  policy  of  liberalism,  and  the  idea  of  centralization,  he  soon 
gained  an  extraordinary  infiuence,  so  that  he  was  entrusted  with 
making  the  report  on  the  projected  revision.  In  the  scheme 
which  Rossi  hereupon  laid  before  the  Diet  in  the  year  1832,  and 
which  is  known  in  the  political  annals  of  Switzerland  by  the  name 
of  "  pacte-Rossi,"  with  great  forbearance  he  endeavoured  to 
strengthen  the  Swiss  confederation.  His  plan  was  adopted  by  the 
Diet  in  December  of  1832.  Rossi  had,  in  his  plan  of  centraliza- 
tion, proceeded  from  the  existing  relations  of  things,  and  purpose- 
ly avoided  all  radical  interference  with  the  individual  interests  of 
the  separate  cantons ;  the  progressive  modulation  of  the  federal 
constitution,  upon  the  basis  of  this  first  step,  was  to  be  left  to  the 
future.  Notwithstanding  this,  the  law  of  revision  met  with  the 
greatest  opposition  on  the  part  of  the  small  cantons  where  the 
ultramontane  party  exerted  itself  to  the  utmost  to  retain  the  old 
cantonal  state  of  things.  The  radical  liberals  were  likewise  dis- 
satisfied with  the  work  of  Rossi.  Under  these  auspices  the 
revisionary  law  was  submitted  to  the  separate  communes  for  rati- 
fication, and  rejected  by  a  majority  of  the  Swiss  people,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  combined  exertions  of  the  ultramontanes,  the  old 
aristocracy  and  the  radical  reformers. 

Rossi  had,  through  his  labors  at  the  Diet,  learned  to  know  his 
strength ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  contracted  a  decided  aversion  to 
the  petty  party  intrigues  which  pervaded  the  political  life  in 


1849.]  Short  lUmewB  and  Notices.  867 

Switserland,  particalarlj  at  that  time.  This,  and  the  circumstance 
that  his  salary  as  Professor  at  Greneva  was  hardly  sufficient  to  se- 
cure a  support  for  his  young  family,  induced  him  to  think  of  obtain- 
ing another  sphere  of  action.  Being  sent  by  the  Diet  to  Paris  to 
regulate  the  affairs  of  the  Polish  emigrants,  he  came  into  intimate 
relations  with  the  doctrinaire-ministers,  Broglie  and  Guizot,  and 
he  made  use  of  this  acquaintance  to  enter  into  the  service  of  the 
French  state.  Both  parties  originally  intended  to  secure  for  the 
Geneva  professor  only  a  French  office  of  instruction,  as  his  views 
and  education  coincided  with  the  political  doctrinaire  principles  of 
those  men.     Rossi  accordingly  emigrated  to  France  in  the  year 

1883,  and  established  himself  at  Paris.  The  ministry  intended 
to  establish  for  its  prot^g^  a  professorship  of  French  constitutional 
law,  which  was  then  not  taught  in  the  law  school ;  but  Rossi  saw 
more  clearly  than  his  patrons,  what  powerful  obstacles  a  foreigner 
must  meet  with  in  this  field,  and  how  much  his  success  and  the 
support  of  his  family  in  general  would  be  endangered,  if  the  cham- 
ber, in  view  of  the  intentions  of  the  government,  should  reject  the 
establishment  of  this  professorship.  He,  therefore,  did  not  enter 
for  the  time,  upon  this  project ;  he  received,  however,  in  August, 

1884,  through  ministerial  intercession^  the  chair  of  the  Professor 
of  Political  Economy  at  the  College  de  France,  which  had  become 
vacant  through  the  death  of  Say.  He  was  naturalized  at  the 
same  time,  (August  28.)  Although  Rossi  was  perfectly  able  to 
do  justice  to  his  science  and  the  office,  still  there  were  also  obsta- 
cles in  his  way,  which,  however,  he  succeeded  in  overcoming,  by 
extraordinary  perseverance  and  skill.  The  name  of  his  distin- 
guished predecessor,  and  his  manner  of  lecturing,  which  had  been 
rather  attractive  through  its  brilliancy,  than  scientifically  instruc- 
tive, had  rendered  the  lecture  room  of  political  economy  in  the 
College  de  France,  the  rendezvous  of  a  host  of  scientific  dillet- 
tanti,  who  belonged  but  in  part  to  the  studious  youth,  and  derived 
nothing  therefrom  but  a  brilliant  entertainment.  Rossi,  on  the 
contrary,  who,  moreover,  had  no  creative  talent  for  the  science,  had 
to  confine  himself — and  this  was  to  the  great  advantage  of  the 
object  of  instruction  —  to  the  strict  explanation  of  the  scientific 
principles  of  his  system ;  nor  was  he  able,  being  a  foreigner,  to 
lend  charms  to  his  subject  through  a  vivid  and  brilliant  style.  He 
explained  the  problems  of  political  economy  with  great  clearness 
and  consistency ;  but  he  spoke  ader  the  Italian  fashion,  methodi- 
cally, slowly,  and  with  a  foreign  accent  Ai\er  the  very  first 
lectures,  the  crowd  of  hearers  had  for  ever  vanished ;  only  about 
one  ^hundred  zealous  students  remained,  who  were  willing  to  be 
thoroughly  instructed  in  this  science  by  the  able  teacher.  Among 
them  there  were  some  men  who  have  since  distinguished  them- 
selves as  practical  and  theoretical  economists,  and  who  openly 
<leclare,  that  Rossi's  labors  at  the  College  de  France  have  put 
this  science  upon  a  decidedly  firm  basis  in  France. 


868  ShoH  Rmew  and  Nodees.  [Jiint, 

After  Boss!  had  entered  apon  his  office  as  teadier,  the  mdvei^- 
eitj  appointed  him,  a  few  months  afterwards,  temporal^  professor 
of  Constitutional  Law  in  the  law  school  of  Paris.  If  his  appoinl- 
ment  in  the  CoU^  de  France  had  excited  the  indignation  of  the 
opponents  of  the  government,  the  opposition  press  now  protested 
in  full  chorus  against  this  second  nomination,  and  the  students 
were  also  drawn  into  this  party  strife.  Nohodj  could  dispute 
the  capacity  of  Rossi  for  this  new  professorship ;  he  was  disliked 
only  because  he  was  a  foreigner,  and  the  special  prot^g^  of  the 
domineering  doctrinaires.  The  students  alleged  as  a  special  reason 
—  his  not  having  taken  the  academic  degree  in  the  University  of 
Paris.  Numbers  of  students  and  others  forced  their  way,  several 
times,  into  the  hall  of  the  law  school,  where  the  persecuted  man 
lectured,  and  made  such  a  tumult,  that  the  public  authority  had  to 
interfere,  and  the  government  was  obliged,  in  December,  1834,  to 
discontinue  the  lectures  for  some  time.  It  was  only  after  several 
months  that  the  patience  and  firmness  of  Rossi  sooceeded  in  ob- 
taining an  undisturbed  hearing  before  the  students,  and  in  course 
of  time  in  securing,  at  least  in  part,  even  their  attachment.  How- 
ever, it  was  not  till  the  dOth  of  November,  1837,  that  an  ordinance 
made  his  temporary  appointment  in  the  law  school  permanent. 
A  portion  of  his  lectures  on  political  economy  in  the  Coll^  de 
France  was  published  from  the  notes  taken  by  one  of  his  hearers, 
Torree,  under  the  title  of  "  Cours  d'^conomie  politique,"  (Paris, 
1840 ;  2d  ed.,  1846.)  Rossi  proves  himself  by  this  work  to  be  a 
lucid  expounder  and  clever  eclectic  in  the  department  of  Political 
Economy.  He  demands  a  free  course  for  labor,  capital,  and 
trade.  Respecting  his  views  on  the  land  rent,  he  inclines  to 
Ricardo ;  but  in  his  theory  of  population  to  Malthus.  This  latter 
view  is  still  more  apparent  in  his  other  work,  elucidating  the 
principles  of  the  British  economist :  ^  Introduction  k  Tessai  sur  le 
principe  de  population  de  Malthus,"  which  is  contained  in  the 
seventh  part  of  the  "  Collection  des  principaux  ^nomistee."  In 
the  year  1838,  Rossi,  who  had  now  gradually  gained  considerable 
respect  among  the  scholars  at  Paris,  was  chosen  member  of  the 
Academy  of  Moral  and  Political  Sciences,  and  he  received  at  the 
same  time,  the  '*  grandes  lettres  de  naturalization."  Of  his  works 
in  the  Academy,  a  memoir  on  the  relations  of  political  economy  to 
the  institutes  of  the  civil  law  is  well  known. 

The  warm  recommendations  of  Guizot  and  Broglie,a8  well  as  the 
writings  which  he  had  from  time  to  time  published  in  the  '*  Revue 
des  deux  mondes,"  and  other  government  organs,  had  already 
procured  for  him  the  decided  favor  of  the  court  Louis  Philippe 
saw  in  the  adroit  and  talented  Italian  a  man  whom  he  might  use 
for  something  greater  than  a  teacher  of  the  ministerial  doctrine. 
Therefore,  in  1839,  when  many  peers  were  created,  Rossi  was  also 
put  upon  the  list,  and  this  elevation  was  to  be  only  the  prelude  to 


1849.]  Shcrt  Reviewi  and  Notices.  869 

the  new  career  which  the  king  himself  intended  to  open  for  his 
favorite.  The  active  influence  of  Rossi  in  the  chamber  of  Peers 
was,  probably  intentionallj,  very  limited ;  he  spoke  but  a  few 
times,  namely,  during  the  debates  on  the  banking  privilege,  and 
afterwards  during  the  dispute  regarding  public  instruction.  In 
short,  after  having  been  created  Peer,  Bossi  resigned  the  offices  of 
instructor  in  the  law  school,  and  the  College  de  France,  (where 
Chevalier  succeeded  him)  ;  and  instead  of  it,  he  was  at  once  ad- 
mitted (in  1840)  into  the  council  of  state,  where  he  was  at  first 
assigned  to  the  department  of  instruction,  and  some  time  after  to 
that  of  foreign  affairs.  It  is  indeed  remarkable  how  soon  Rossi, 
in  this  position,  stood  in  the  most  confidential  relation  to  the  king, 
and  how  he  must  have  penetrated  into  all  the  plans  and  designs  of 
the  court,  and  have  been  consulted  regarding  them.  His  frequent 
and  personal  intercourse  with  Louis  Philippe  displeased  even  the 
faithful  and  indefatigable  Gnizot,  who  began  to  fear,  and  not  with- 
out reason,  that  the  Italian  might,  sooner  or  later,  overshadow  and 
displace  him.  Notwithstanding  his  relations  to  the  court  and  to 
the  Doctrinaires,  notwithstanding  his  stiff  and  uninteresting  ex- 
ternal deportment,  which  still  reminded  one  of  Geneva  puritan- 
ism,  and  denoted  the  party-type  of  the  men  who  had  elevated  him, 
Rossi  succeeded  in  putting  himself  in  a  tolerably  good  understand- 
ing with  the  other  public  parties  and  their  tendencies.  The  le- 
gitimists alone  reviled  and  rejected  him,  called  him  a  renegade 
and  similar  names,  because  he  did  not  care  to  trouble  him- 
self about  **  these  people  without  a  future.**  But  with  the  repub- 
licans and  radicals  he  was  not  out  of  favor,  and  was  even  praised 
several  times  in  the  ^  National."  The  opposition  entertained  the 
conviction,  that  the  adroitness  and  perseverance  of  the  Italian 
might  perhaps  lead  to  the  undermining  and  overthrow  of  the  hated 
Doctrinaire  party,  and  that  according  to  several  expressions,  ap- 
parently unguardedly  made,  he  concealed  an  opinion,  the  develop- 
ment of  which  might,  one  day,  undeceive  his  protectors.  The 
clergy  did  not  look  upon  Rossi  with  unfavorable  eyes.  As  citizen 
of  Geneva,  and  husband  to  a  Protestant  wife,  he  had  had  his 
children  educated  in  Calvinism ;  but  in  France  the  shrewd  roan 
cadsed  his  family  to  go  over  to  Catholicism.  During  the  dispute 
on  the  educational  question,  between  the  university  and  clergy, 
Rossi  had  spoken  in  the  chamber  of  Peers  in  such  a  manner  that 
he  did  not  offend,  in  fact,  any  party,  but  to  a  certain  degree  satis- 
fied them  both.  The  ultramontane  party  already  fancied  that  they 
saw  in  him  a  possible  ally. 

This  extreme  adroitness  which  Rossi  displayed  in  the  debates 
on  ecclesiastical  and  religious  affairs,  determined  Louis  Philippe, 
at  last,  to  make  a  decided  use  of  the  virtuoso  powers  of  his  confi- 
dant, intending  through  his  agency  to  make  a  final  settlement  of 
the  ecdesiastical  questions  then  pending  between  France  and  the 

NO.  VII.  26 


870  Shoft  Rmm$  and  NoUeei.  [Jum, 

Papal  See,  and  thus  to  restore  peace  between  the  two  parties.  Ib 
the  beginning  of  the  year  1845,  when  the  breach  between  the 
Church  and  State  showed  itself  more  dangerous  than  ever,  Ros^ 
was  appointed  Minister  Extraordinary  to  Rome ;  it  was  given  out 
that  he  was  to  conduct  the  embassy  at  Rome  ad  interim,  in  place 
of  the  sick  Count  Latour  Maubourg.  The  French  legitimists  at 
Rome  protested  against  it  in  vain.  Ouizot  likewise  found  him- 
self quite  severely  treated  by  the  appmntment  of  Rossi,  which  had 
been  made  without  his  wishes  and  knowledge.  Guizot  had  selected 
for  the  post  at  Rome  Count  Bois-le-Comte,  who  was  acceptable 
to  both  the  party  of  legitimists  and  that  of  the  priests,  and  he  was 
already  on  his  journey  to  Paris,  from  Switzerland,  where  he  rep- 
resented the  French  interest,  when  Rossi  informed  the  minister 
that  he  himsdf  should  go  to  Rome,  according  to  the  will  of  the 
king.  Rossi  actually  entered  upon  his  mission  at  the  end  of  Feb- 
ruary, 1845 ;  he  received  an  open  commission  to  bring  to  a  definite 
settlement  with  Gregory  XVI.  the  dispute  about  the  liberty  of 
instruction,  and  the  relation  of  French  prelates  to  the  power  of  the 
state.  The  latter  point  had  reference  to  the  mandate  of  Bishop 
Bonald,  which  encroached  dangerously  upon  the  province  of  the 
state.  At  Rome  Rossi  showed  his  Italian  character  to  its  full  ex- 
tent ;  he  spoke  like  a  native,  and  succeeded  in  gaining  confidence 
for  himself.  It  was,  however,  asserted  that  he  would  have  effect- 
ed nothing,  in  spite  of  all  this,  if  he  had  not  been  aided  by  the 
storm,  (and  this  was,  perhaps,  purposely  excited,)  which  Thiers 
called  forth  in  France  by  his  speech  in  the  Chamber  against  the 
extension  of  the  order  of  Jesuits  on  French  soil.  Rossi  shrewdly 
made  a  handle  of  it,  and  succeeded  in  obtaining  in  this  affair  a 
concession,  although  it  was  doubtful  and  disputed.  At  the  begin- 
ning of  July  the  French  papers  stated  that  the  intelligence,  calm- 
ness, and  perseverance  of  Rossi  had  succeeded  in  concludiiig  the 
preliminaries  of  a  treaty  with  the  Papal  See,  according  to  which 
the  society  of  Jesuits  was  abolished  in  France,  the  houses  of  the 
order  must  be  closed,  and  the  novices  absolved.  This  pretended 
victory  occurred  at  the  same  time  with  the  negotiations  now  hap- 
pily finished,  regarding  the  right  of  search,  with  the  cabinet  at 
London,  and  were  made  the  most  of  by  the  court  and  government, 
to  gain  favor  with  the  public.  The  "  Constitutionnel,"  "National," 
and  the  press  of  the  government  united  in  extolling  the  talent  of 
Rossi. 

The  ultramontane  and  legitimist  papers  only,  from  revenge, 
pointed  at  the  utter  insignificance  and  even  the  disgrace  of  such 
a  victory ;  they  declared  that  the  government,  acconding  to  exist- 
ing laws,  had  already  not  only  the  right  but  also  that  it  was  their 
duty  to  expel  the  Jesuits,  and  that  the  applications  made  to  Rome 
for  the  abolition  of  the  order  proved  the  weakness  and  want  of 
conscience  of  the  government.    These  papers  also  maintained  that 


1849.]  ShaH  Beview$  and  N»tice$.  871 

Sosai  himself  had  not  been  able  to  obtain  anything  from  the  Pope ; 
and  onlj  the  General  of  the  Jesuits  bad,  from  a  consideratioD  of 
the  circumstances,  consented  to  dissolve  the  order  in  France  for 
the  time. 

Notwithstanding  the  dispute  which  at  the  same  time  took  place 
about  the  talents  and  merits  of  Rossi,  his  influence  was  more  firmlj 
^established  in  France,  and  in  the  diplomatic  world,  and  every 
body  was  convinced  that  a  portefeuille  as  minister  awaited  the 
adroit  and  firm  Italian  at  the  hands  of  Louis  Philippe.  Guizot 
seemed  to  have  broken  with  him  ;  but  still  he  enjoyed  the  sincere 
favor  of  the  Due  de  Broglie.  In  spite  of  the  objections  of  the 
legitimists,  Rossi  received,  in  May,  1846,  a  definite  appointment, 
being  raised  to  the  rank  of  ambassador  at  the  Vatican  and  to  that 
of  a  French  count.  The  death  of  Gregory  XVI.,  (1st  of  June,) 
the  election  of  Pius  IX.,  towards  which  he  had  contributed  a  great 
deal,  according  to  his  own  statement,  the  reform  movements  and 
the  new  political  constellation  which  began  with  this  election  —  all 
these  increased  the  importance  of  Rossi*s  position,  and  the  value 
which  his  adroit  mind  had  in  the  eyes  of  the  king  of  the  French. 
And  certainly  none  of  the  ministers  of  Louis  Phi&ppe  was  so  well 
fitted  as  he,  through  the  virtuoso  skill  of  diplomatic  intrigue,  to 
manage  the  so-called  ^  juste  milieu  "  of  the  master,  now  at  the  right 
time  to  go  onward,  and  now  at  the  decisive  turning  point  to  stop, 
and,  without  being  noticed,  to  take  a  new  direction ;  Rossi,  who  at 
first  boasted  of  having  led  the  papal  state  upon  the  path  of  reform, 
understood  how  to  interfere  with  skill  when  the  consequences  of 
these  first  steps  of  Pius  IX.  were  developed,  and  to  bring  France 
nearer  to  the  policy  of  Austria.  This  ambiguous  deportment, 
adapted  to  the  plan  of  Louis  Philippe,  brought  upon  him,  even 
then,  the  hatred  of  the  Italian  patriots.  But  besides  this,  he  gave 
the  Vatican  moderate  counsels  and  succeeded  in  inducing  a  court 
to  delay  its  action  in  the  Swiss  disturbances.  This  was  indeed 
well  adapted  to  the  policy  of  peace  and  compromise,  but  it  did 
not  at  all  satisfy  the  ultramontane  party.  Although  in  these 
extremely  intricate  relations  Rossi  sustained  his  reputation  as  a 
subtle  and  extremely  clever  diplomatist,  /yet  neither  his  art  nor 
the  general  policy  of  Louis  Philippe  could  arrest  the  natural 
course  of  things  in  Italy  and  in  Switzerland.  It  has  been  said 
that  Rossi  had  been  selected  by  Louis  Philippe  to  take  the  part 
of  a  Mazarin  in  France  after  the  death  of  the  king,  and  at  the 
head  of  the  regency  to  guide  his  grandson  and  the  Orleans  dynas- 
ty through  the  storm  of  internal  insurrection.  Rossi  was  no  doubt 
possessed  of  the  pliability,  subtleness,  and  perseverance  of  that 
Italian.  However,  it  may  be  doubted  whether  these  qualities 
would  have  been  sufficient  to  allay  the  political  fermentation  of 
France  at  the  present  day.  The  very  fact  that  Rossi  was  a  for- 
eigner would  have  prevented  him  from  being  put  at  the  head  of 


872  Short  Iteviewt  and  Noiieei.  [Jane, 

a  French  regency.  That  Boss!  had  no  firm  bold  either  on  the 
public  opinion  of  France  or  on  that  of  Rome,  is  shown  bj  his 
total  downfall  as  soon  as  the  Orleans  djnastj  in  France  was  over- 
thrown. Immediately  after  the  events  of  February,  1848,  he 
found  himself  deserted  and  unnoticed,  and  was  obliged  to  give 
way  at  once  to  D'Acourt,  the  ambassador  of  the  Republic. 

What  was  now  to  be  done;  whither  was  R(Msi  to  go,  to 
undertake  a  new  stage-part,  that  he  might  secure  subsistence 
for  a  large  family  ?  At  Rome,  the  parties  despised  him ;  there 
was  no  prospect  of  a  career  for  him  there.  He  went  to  Carrara, 
and  came  out  of  his  chrysalis  an  Italian  patriot  His  country- 
men received  him  gladly,  naturalized  him,  elected  him,  and  we 
may,  perhaps,  believe  it  is  true  that  the  adventurer  embraced 
with  sincerity  the  cause  of  his  native  country.  However,  the 
victories  of  Radetzky,  and  the  return  of  the  Duke  of  Modena, 
soon  drove  him  from  his  popular  position.  He  was  obliged  to 
flee  back  to  Rome,  where  the  parties  derided  his  downfall  and  his 
fate.  Rossi  encountered  his  misfortune  with  all  the  perseverance 
and  tenacity  of  his  natural  disposition.  He  succeeded  in  winning  the 
ear  of  the  Pope  —  to  whom  he  had  so  often  given  wise  counsel  — 
and,  through  the  press,  in  presenting  himself  to  the  people  as  the 
unavoidable  future  minister,  as  often  as  the  helpless  rulers  of  the 
papal  state  changed  or  were  about  to  change ;  one  might  read  in 
the  papers,  that  Rossi  was  the  roan  who  could  save  the  state  out 
of  the  breakers.  This  was  said  when  Mamiani  was  put  at  the 
head  of  affairs,  and  the  same  was  repeated  when  the  ministry  of 
Fabbri  was  formed.  But  nobody  believed  that  Rossi  had  been 
selected  for  that  work;  on  the  contrary,  his  exertions  were 
ridiculed  in  caricatures  and  pamphlets.  In  the  mean  time,  the 
embarrassments  of  Pius  IX.  and  the  general  distraction  of  afiairs 
increased  from  day  to  day  in  the  papal  state.  Fabbri  had  dis- 
solved the  chamber,  which  was  to  be  called  together  again ;  the 
financial  distress  was  great ;  entire  anarchy  prevailed  in  the  north- 
em  provinces  (Legations) ;  Cavaignac  refused  to  interfere  and 
restore  order  in  the  Papal  state;  the  so-called  patriots  cried 
Treachery,  openly  threatened  the  overthrow  of  the  government, 
and  demanded  war  with  Austria.  In  this  distress,  the  Pope 
sought  help  from  Rossi.  The  clergy  and  reactionary  party 
acknowledged  the  great  talent  of  the  man,  and  recollected  that  as 
minister  of  Louis  Philippe,  he  had  acted  with  success  and  mode- 
ration ;  but  the  daily  press  attacked  him  vrith  revilings  and  exe- 
crations ;  the  so-called  patriots  declared  that  the  ministry  of  Rossi 
would  be  fatal  to  the  cause  of  liberty.  Rossi  promised  the  Pope 
to  restore  order  in  the  Papal  state,  without  force  or  foreign  assist- 
ance, and  to  bring  even  Italy  out  of  the  crisis,  by  way  of  diplo- 
macy. He  declared  openly,  that  the  independence  and  greatiiess 
of  Italy  should  be  the  only  aim  in  his  negotiations. 

On  the  18th  of  September,  1848,  the  ministry  of  Rossi  came 


1849.]  Short  Bevieios  and  Notices.  8T8 

into  being.  Bossi  himself  took  the  department  of  the  Interior, 
and  then,  provisionally,  that  of  the  Police  and  Finance,  —  a  great 
power  in  the  Papal  state ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  a  still  greater 
responsibility.  Cardinal  Soglia  took  the  Presidency  and  Foreign 
Affairs;  Cardinal  Yizzardelli,  Instruction;  Advocate  Cicognani, 
Justice  ;  Professor  Montanari,  the  Public  Works ;  and  the  Duke 
de  Rignano,  ad  interim,  the  war  department.  Again  the  radicals 
raised  a  cry  about  reaction,  because  the  clergy  was  again  taking 
part  in  the  administration.  Rossi,  however,  did  not  suffer  himself 
to  be  disturbed ;  he  began  in  connection  with  his  colleagues  to 
tighten  the  reins  in  all  the  branches  of  government,  and  showed 
that  the  question  was  not  about  one-sided  reaction,  but  about 
restoring  order.  In  order  to  reanimate  trade,  the  first  measure 
was  to  repeal  the  prohibition  of  the  exportation  of  money.  Shortly 
after  he  enforced  an  old  law  respecting  the  freedom  of  exhibiting 
pictures,  by  which  he  suppressed  the  great  nuisance  of  carica- 
tures. Towards  the  end  of  September,  he  summoned  the  Prince 
Canino  before  him,  reproved  his  anarchical  conduct,  produced  be- 
fore him  written  proofs,  and  dismissed  him  with  menacing  admoni- 
tions. No  doubt  he  had  made  thereby  a  mortal  enemy.  An 
ordinance  announced  the  establishment  of  telegraphic  lines  as  the 
forerunner  of  railroads,  but  it  was  supposed  the  principal  object  of 
it  was  to  accomplish  the  purposes  of  the  police.  Other  decrees 
founded  professorships  of  political  economy  and  agriculture  in  the 
universities  at  Bologna  and  Rome.  The  anarchical  little  bands  of 
volunteers  who  had  returned  to  Rome  after  the  capitulation  at 
Vicenza,  were  sent  to  the  north  and  east,  and  the  capital  was  pro- 
vided with  a  garrison  of  troops  of  the  line.  However,  Rossi  induced 
the  Pope  to  ratify  the  pensions  which  had  before  been  promised 
to  the  wounded  and  disabled  volunteers,  and  to  the  families  of  the 
killed.  Although  the  Pope  had  given  his  declaration  that  the  war 
against  Austria  had  been  undertaken  without  his  consent,  Rossi, 
in  order  to  gaip  confidence  with  the  radicals,  called  upon  the  cler- 
ical and  church  prebendaries  to  pay  the  sum  of  200,000  scudi,  to 
liquidate  the  debts  made  by  the  liberal  ministers  for  the  cause  of 
independence.  However,  Rossi  could  not  deceive  the  radicals, 
who  loudly  demanded  war  against  Austria,  by  this  step,  nor  by 
sending  money  to  Venice,  and  calling  upon  the  trading  classes  to 
furnish  the  government  with  articles  of  equipment,  drums,  etc 
On  the  contrary,  the  clergy  became  alarmed  through  this  demand 
of  money.  As  they  generally  feared  an  attack  on  the  part  of  the 
minister,  upon  the  extensive  church  property,  they  voluntarily 
offered  the  payment  of  4,000,000  of  scudi,  in  fifteen  yearly  in- 
stalments, but  on  condition  that  the  property  of  the  church  should 
remain  untouched.  But  Rossi  was  too  good  an  arithmetician ; 
he  knew  that  the  property  of  the  church  amounted  to  60,000,000 
of  scudi,  whilst  the  State  debt  was  37,000,000.  He  received  the 
proposition  coldly,  and  thereby  confirming  hb  intentions  against 


874  Short  RevietJOi  and  Notices.  [June, 

the  church  property,  he  brought  upon  himself  the  hatred  and 
enmity  of  the  only  party  that  had  entertained  hopes  from  his  rule, 
Rossi  acted  with  great  energy  in  clearing  the  provinces  of  the 
many  vagabonds  and  bands  of  thieves  and  murderers,  who^ 
in  the  midst  of  anarchy,  had  increased  to  an  incredible  extent, 
and  who  did  not  suffer  the  people  to  rest.  One  province  after 
another  was  cleared  by  the  gensd'armes. 

About  the  end  of  October  General  Zochi  took  the  department 
of  War,  and  he  likewise  tried  to  introduce  strictness  and  order  into 
the  army  and  military  administration.  In  the  mean  time  bands 
of  volunteers  had  collected  on  the  northern  boundary  and  on  their 
own  account  threatened  to  commence  war  with  Austria.  At  Bo* 
logna  the  disorganization  of  all  public  authority  continually  became 
more  and  more  complete;  Zuchi  hastened  to  the  scene  of  anarchy, 
disarmed  the  volunteers,  in  the  night  of  the  sixth  of  November 
made  search  for  the  arms  hidden  in  the  houses  at  Bologna,  and 
threatened  the  refractory  people  with  military  law.  These  meas* 
nres  called  forth  the  bitterest  feelings  among  the  radicals  and  patri- 
ots who  had  been  excited  by  the  tidings  of.  the  events  at  Vienna ; 
they  believed  that  Rossi,  who  himself  was  earnestly  engaged  in 
reorganizing  the  body  of  gensd*armes,  intended  to  disarm  the  peo- 
ple in  order  to  deliver  them  defenceless  into  slavery.  The  sup- 
position that  the  minister  was  treating  with  Austria  and  Naples, 
gave  reason  for  the  supposition  that  he  had  engaged  through  a 
plot  of  the  cabinet  to  betray  and  stifle  the  general  exertions  of 
Italy  for  freedom.  The  ne  plus  ultra  press  at  Rome  pretended 
that  it  knew  of  an  alliance  even  with  Russia,  and  in  the  "  Circolo 
populare,**  the  most  violent  and  numerous  club  of  the  people  at 
Kome,  they  spoke  of  the  denaturalized  son  of  Italy.  In  this  state 
of  feeling  the  chamber  was  to  be  reopened  on  the  13th  ofNo- 
Tember.  Rossi  was  indifferent  to  what  was  going  on,  because 
through  his  1,000  gensd'armes  and  6,000  regular  troops  he  felt 
himself  strong  against  the  radicals,  and  knew  full  well  that  the 
credulous  and  excitable  multitude  were  only  wrought  up  by  a  few 
fanatics.  A  few  days  before  the  opening  of  the  chamber,  the 
representative  Sterbini  abused  him  in  the  "  Circolo  populare  ** 
and  in  the  journal  "  Contemporaneo "  in  a  manner  which  had 
heretofore  been  unheard  of  in  Rome.  According  to  his  statement, 
Rossi  was  said  to  be  still  in  communication  with  Guizot  and 
Mettemich,  and  u[)on  the  expulsion  of  the  Austrian  minister  from 
Rome,  to  have  taken  this  mission  upon  himself  and  faithfully  dis- 
charged the  same.  He  was  furthermore  charged  with  arbitrarily 
reducing  the  number  of  seats  in  the  public  gallery  of  the  chamber 
of  deputies  from  one  thousand  to  a  hundred,  and  this  was  cer- 
tainly the  fact.  He  was  accused  of  provoking  disturbances  for 
the  purpose  of  putting  Rome  and  the  country  in  a  state  of  siege. 
On  the  13th  of  November  four  hundred  carabinieri  marched  from 
the  country  into  Rome,  and  the  minister  passed  them  in  review 


1849.]  ShoH  Reviews  and  Notieu.  875 

<m  Uie  following  day  Id  the  closed  coart  of  Belvedere,  exhorting 
the  troops  to  remain  faithful  to  the  Pope;  this  was  likewise 
done  with  the  police  soldiers.  On  the  same  daj  there  appeared 
an  article  in  the  official  "  Gazetta  de  Roma,"  in  which  the  public 
at  least  thought  that  the  chamber  of  deputies  and  the  national 
exertions  were  laughed  at.  No  doubt  anj  attack  of  the  govern- 
ment upon  the  chamber  of  deputies  was  very  unwise.  The  ar- 
ticle, together  with  the  charges  made  by  Sterbini  and  the  appear- 
ance of  the  carabinieri  increased  the  exasperation  of  the  fanatics 
and  astounded  even  the  more  intelligent.  The  *'  Civica "  assem- 
bled and  protested  against  the  troops  being  drawn  together.  A 
general  distrust  of  Rossi  took  possession  of  the  public  mind ; 
those  deputies,  also,  who  had  heretofore  been  on  the  side  of  the 
ministers,  resolved,  in  consequence  of  that  article,  to  strengthen 
the  ranks  of  the  opposition.  It  was  intended  to  compel  Rossi  to 
retire  by  withdrawing  the  support  of  the  chambers  from  the  gov- 
ernment, which  was  now  feared,  hated,  or  at  least  suspected  by  all 
parties. 

However,  the  minister  retained  his  self-confidence ;  he  had  the 
conviction  that  he  should  overcome  the  distrust  of  the  chamber 
through  the  development  of  his  policy,  and  through  his  personal 
deportment  obtain  a  majority.  The  opening  of  the  chamber  was 
looked  forward  to  with  the  greatest  anxiety.  On  the  14th  of  No- 
vember, Rossi  was  informed  of  a  plot ;  he  paid  no  attention  to  it. 
The  chamber  assembled  at  the  appointed  hour,  about  one  o'clock, 
on  the  15th  of  November,  in  the  palace  of  the  Cancellaria,  in  a 
part  of  the  upper  story  to  which  a  staircase  led  from  the  court. 
At  this  same  hour  Rossi  left  the  Pope,  and  drove  a  few  minutes 
afterwards  into  the  court  of  the  Cancellaria,  where  the  people 
received  him  with  bowlings  and  hisses.  He  alighted,  smiled  sar- 
donically at  this  demonstration,  and  went,  swinging  his  gloves, 
towards  the  staircase,  which  was  filled  with  about  thirty  young 
men  belonging  to  the  volunteer  corps  of  the  "  bersagUerC*  (tirail- 
leurs). When  Rossi  reached  the  stairs,  a  passage  was  opened  for 
him,  but  already  on  the  first  steps  he  was  pushed  one  side.  One 
of  those  that  pushed  gave  him  a  violent  blow  upon  the  shoulder. 
Rossi  raised  his  hand ;  by  this  movement  his  neck  was  laid  bare 
and  extended.  At  this  moment  he  received  two  thrusts  with  a 
dagger  in  his  neck.  He  covered  the  wounds  with  his  pocket 
handkerchief,  ascended  quietly  a  few  more  steps,  and  said  to  his 
eompanion,  Righetti,  the  substitute  of  the  finance  department,  '*  It 
is  nothing.*'  Suddenly,  however,  he  sat  down,  powerless.  His 
servant  carried  him  into  the  upper  story,  and  placed  him  in  an 
ante-chamber  of  the  Cardinal  Guzzoli,  where,  after  breathing  for  a 
few  minutes  longer,  he  expired.  Several  civic  guards  who  were 
on  duty  before  the  chamber,  were  witnesses  of  the  proceeding 
from  the  top  of  the  stairs,  but  did  not  interfere.  The  murderers 
withdrew  sbwly,  without  any  hindrance.    The  people  received 


376  Shfn-t  Review  and  Notices.  [June, 

the  news  of  this  event  coldly  aod  indifierentlj.  The  chamber  of 
depaties,  in  which  the  places  on  the  right  were  vacant  with  a  few 
exceptions,  did  not  suffer  itself  to  be  disturbed  bj  the  news  of  the 
assassination  of  the  minister,  in  the  reading  of  the  record  of  the 
last  session  in  August.  The  roll  having  been  called,  the  president 
declared  that  no  quorum  was  present  for  the  transaction  of  busir 
ness,  and  all  withdrew  in  silence. 

The  bandit  who  struck  the  blow,  at  the  instigation  of  a  conspir- 
acy formed  a  few  days  before,  was  named  Jergo.  It  was  said  that 
he  was  paid  12,000  scudi  for  the  bloody  deed.  Great  suspicion 
fell  upon  the  deputy  Pietro  Sterbini ;  nobody  troubled  himself, 
however,  to  pursue  the  murderers.  The  ministry  was  dissolved^ 
and  the  director  of  the  police  of  the  city  withdrew.  At  first  it 
appeared  as  if  the  fanatics  would  content  themselves  with  the  as- 
sassination of  Rossi ;  a  revolution  had  not  been  prepared.  Hand- 
bilb,  quickly  spread  by  the  radicals,  called  for  a  demonstration  in 
the  evening  against  the  retrograde  party ;  and  then  the  tumult 
followed  which  led,  on  the  following  day,  to  the  attack  upon  the 
Quirinal,  and  to  the  popular  ministry  of  Qaletti.  On  the  evening 
of  the  24th,  Pius  IX.  fied  from  Rome  to  Civita  Yecchia,  and 
from  thence  to  Gaeta.  The  French  ambassador  took  care  of  the 
family  of  Rossi,  his  wife,  children,  and  brothers,  who  had  lost  then* 
supporter.  Only  a  portion  of  the  Italian  press  expressed  any 
horror  at  the  crime,  or  lamented  the  loss  of  the  man  to  the 
national  cause ;  the  other  papers  palliated  this  murderous  deed 
with  religious  and  theatrical  phrases,  and  praised  it  as  a  victory  of 
the  good  cause  of  the  nation.  ^  The  deed  was  done  exactly  upon 
the  spot  where  Caesar  was  slain,"  said  the  Tuscan  "  Alba."  With- 
in a  few  months  ailer  this  deed  the  rumor  was  spread  abroad  that 
the  murderer  of  Rossi  had  fallen  by  the  same  hand  which  paid 
him  the  price  of  blood,  because  it  was  feared  he  would  disclose  his 
accomplices. 


8  —  1.  Hin  Foma  logbdk  Islendinga,  sem  ne/nist  Jdmsida  edr 
Hakonarbok.  Codex  Juris  Mandorum  antiquus,  qui  nomi* 
natur  Jamsida  seu  Liber  Haconis.  Cum  irUerpreUUiane  Lati- 
no, etc.  Haynls,  Sumptibus  Legati  Amse  Magns&anL  1 847. 
4to.    pp.xLiY.  and  291. 

2.  Jslenzkir  Anndlar,  sive  Annales  hlandici  ah  anno  Christi 
803  Oil  annum  1403.  Cum  interpretatione  LatinUj  etc.  Hav- 
NL£,  Sumptibus  Legati  Arnss  Magn»anl  1847.  4to.  pp.  l. 
and  478. 

Two  new  donations  from  the  trustees  of  Amas  Magnnsen's 
fund  for  the  publication  of  documents  relative  to  ancient  Scandi- 
navian history.    The  first,  the  Jdrndda^  or  '*  Ironside,*'  is  an  old 


1849.]  Sluni  Beviews  and  Notices  877 

Icelandic  code  of  laws,  published  there  about  1271 ;  not  the  oldest, 
however,  for  the  "  Gray-goose,"  which  it  succeeded,  had  been  in 
force  in  the  shape  in  which  we  now  have  it,  for  about  a  century 
and  a  half  The  publication  of  the  Jamsida  marks  an  important 
epoch  in  the  history  of  Iceland,  the  epoch,  namely,  when  the 
country,  exhausted  by  the  everlasting  feuds  of  the  petty  chieftains 
among  whom  the  island  was  parcelled  out,  fell  into  the  power  of 
Haoon  the  Old,  of  Norway.  The  ancient  democracy  which  had 
flourished  for  400  years,  had  become  no  longer  democratic.  Theo- 
retically, indeed,  the  freeholders  were  still  all  equal  before  the 
law,  but  there  had  grown  up  around  each  of  the  larger  proprietors 
a  crew  of  retainers  whose  unquestioning  adherence  enabled  him 
to  set  the  laws  at  defiance.  The  ancient  code,  tender  of  personal 
liberty,  could  do  nothing  in  the  last  extremity  but  withdraw  its 
protection  from  the  offender.  But  if  strong  in  the  protection  of 
his  clan,  and  secure  in  his  own  district,  he  laughed  at  the  outlaw- 
ry of  the  tribunals.  In  this  state  of  things,  the  stem  Norse  indi- 
vidualism, unrestrained  by  the  ties  of  commerce,  or  of  a  common 
danger  from  without,  which  in  modem  times,  and  in  other  coun- 
tries, have  bound  men  together ;  secure  in  its  remote  and  icy  home, 
and  encouraged  still  farther  by  the  isolating  tendency  of  a  pasto- 
ral life,  received  an  extreme  development,  inconsistent  with  civil 
order.  Every  principle  of  cohesion  being  destroyed,  the  body  pol- 
itic fell  to  pieces,  not  from  an  overwhelming  force  from  without, 
but  from  an  internal,  organic  disease. 

The  name  "  Ironside,"  accordingly,  (if  not  derived,  as  we  might 
conjecture,  from  the  binding  of  the  book,  as  has  been  supposed  in 
the  case  of  the  "  Gray-goose,")  probably  betokens  not  any  partic- 
ular severity  (for  notlung  of  the  kind  appears)  of  the  code,  but  only 
the  wincing  of  the  haughty  islanders  at  the  first  taste  of  a  strong 
central  government.  Their  old  laws  only  regulated  the  practice  of 
private  revenge ;  thus  a  murderer  was  prosecuted  to  outlawry,  by 
the  nearest  relation  of  the  slain.  The  inevitable  law,  that  what- 
soever does  not  govern  itself,  must  be  ruled  from  without,  —  that 
within  or  without,  a  central  principle  must  exist  and  govern ;  this 
law,  universal  in  the  material  and  in  the  spiritual  world,  did  not 
admit  of  an  exception  here.  ''  Life  for  life,"  says  Strinnbolm  ; 
<*  the  law  could  not  as  yet  give,  for  only  the  serf  could  be  punished 
in  life  or  limb ;  every  judgment  between  free  men  was  only  a 
compromise — the  law  could  do  nothing  except  to  fix  legal  forms 
for  this." 

But  now  they  heard  for  the  first  time,  that  "  God  has  ordained 
two  visible  ministers  of  his  divine  religion  and  sacred  law,  that 
they  should  cause  the  good  to  enjoy  justice,  but  should  correct  and 
punish  the  evil.  Of  these,  one  is  the  king,  the  other  the  bishop. 
The  king  is  by  Grod  appointed  to  the  civil  command,  to  manage 
dvil  affairs ;  the  bbhop  to  the  spiritual,  to  oversee  things  spirituaL" 


378  Short  Eevtews  and  Notieei.  [June, 

Henceforth  the  transgressor  was  to  be  prosecuted  by  the  king's 
attorney,  who  was  to  have  the  sentence  executed,  and  receive 
part  of  the  tines.  Moreover,  although  some  of  the  provisions  of 
this  code  were  taken  from  the  "  Gray^oose,"  yet  by  far  the  larger 
part  is  a  mere  transcript  of  the  Norwegian  laws,  and  thus  doubt- 
less appeared  more  oppressive,  merely  from  being  new  and  foreign. 

Tbe  Icelanders,  from  the  first,  made  a  great  deal  of  complaint 
about  it,  and  it  was  in  fact  abolished  in  about  ten  years,  though 
probably  rather  on  account  of  insufficiency,  (for  it  is  very  short, 
and  evidently  a  hasty  production,)  than  for  any  change  of  policy 
in  the  Norwegian  government,  since  the  Jonsbok,  which  took  its 
place,  and  which  is  still  mostly  in  force,  is,  we  believe,  not  more 
favorable  to  popular  rights. 

Noticeable  features,  on  a  hasty  perusal,  are,  the  development 
of  the  jury  of  twelve  sworn  men,  peers  of  the  defendant,  (  7^/- 
tar  eidr,)  which  is  here  used  more  frequently  and  for  causes 
of  less  moment,  and  moreover  for  the  assessment  of  damages 
in  civil  actions,  as  well  as  for  criminal  cases :  —  a  provision  for 
recovering  costs  in  an  action  of  debt ;  ^*  he  shall  have  six  ounces 
for  the  trouble  of  getting  his  due ; "  —  a  prohibition  to  give  cred- 
it to  a  married  woman  for  goods,  ''unless  her  husband  have 
sent  her  to  the  ship  or  into  the  market  to  buy  for  the  need  of 
both," — it  being  the  custom  of  the  country  for  the  merchants  to 
put  up  booths  on  the  beach,  and  sell  from  their  ships.  Stringent 
provisions  are  made  against  thefl,  thus,  "  one  who  crawleth  under 
people's  cows,  to  drink  their  milk,  is  out  of  the  protection  of  the 
law,  and  so  if  one  shall  go  into  a  man's  leek  garden,  or  his 
angelica-garden ;  though  he  be  beaten,  or  the  clothes  taken  off  from 
him."  Nevertheless,  an  exception  is  made  in  the  case  of  extreme 
want.  ^  None  of  us  shall  steal  from  another.  But  this  is  to  be 
observed,  that  if  a  man  steal  meat,  being  unable  to  earn  his  liveli- 
hood, and  thus  help  out  his  life,  for  hunger's  sake,  this  is  a  theft 
which  should  by  no  means  be  punished."  It  is  remarkable,  by 
the  bye,  that  the  Icelanders  long  before  this  had  provisions  for 
the  support  of  the  helplessly  poor.  '^  Those  men  who  persist  in 
coming  into  companies  of  men  unbidden  of  him  who  gives  the  feast, 
and  obstinately  sit  there,  although  they  be  roughly  cast  out,  or  in 
anywise  mishandled,  are  half-right  men,  (can  recover  but  half 
damages,)  and  shall  pay  three  marks  to  the  King.  This  is  so  pro- 
vided, since  many  good  men  have  taken  harm  and  danger  from 
their  insolence." 

From  a  clause  in  the  law  of  wrecks,  &c.,  it  would  seem  that 
the  Icelanders  were  the  first  whale-fishers :  ''  If  a  dart  be  found  'm 
a  whale,  he  shall  keep  the  iron  who  dwells  nearest." 

Although  by  no  means  so  ancient  as  many  of  the  northern 
codes,  the  Jdrnsida  contains  many  of  those  terse  alliterative  sen- 
tences, which  always  attest  a  high  antiquity,  for  instance,  this  in  a 


1849.]  ShoH  BwiewM  and  Notices.  379 

provision  against  obstructing  fish  in  tbeir  ascent  of  rivers :  <<  Free 
gate  to  Grod's  gifts  to  the  fells  or  to  the  fiord  ;*'  and  this,  in  an  ex- 
ception to  a  statute  of  limitation :  '*  For  in  salt  lieth  a  suit  when 
the  suitors  are  competent."  Elsewhere,  "  the  fence  is  a  peace^ 
maker  among  neighbours." 

The  second  in  the  annals  of  Iceland,  from  a.  d.  803  to  1430. 
It  is  very  much  like  the  Anglo-Saxon  chronicle ;  a  terse  matter- 
of-fact  record,  kept  probably  at  some  monastery,  or  at  all  events 
by  monks ;  as  is  shown  by  the  scraps  of  Latin  interspersed,  and  the 
attention  to  news  in  the  church.  Its  contents  are  thus  summed  up 
by  the  editor  in  the  preface :  *'  the  births,  deaths,  journeys,  and 
changes  in  office  of  bishops,  judges,  and  other  public  functionaries ; 
natural  events,  some  common  to  many  lands,  such  as  comets, 
eclipses  of  the  sun  and  moon ;  others  peculiar  to  this  land,  as 
earthquakes,  volcanoes,  severe  or  mild  winters,  scarcity  of  grain, 
pestilences  among  men  and  animals ;  matters  concerning  foreign 
commerce,  as  shipwrecks,  the  departure  and  arrival  of  vessels ;  and 
events  in  life,  or  of  the  common  religion,  as  crimes  and  mbdeeds, 
dreams,  fables  of  ghosts,  and  such  like." 

On  the  first  pages,  mention  is  made  of  Ragnar  Lodbrok,  (Hairy- 
breeches,*)  a  Scandinavian  King  Arthur,  to  whom  (as  well  as  to 
Odin,)  the  origin  of  the  jury  of  twelve  men  is  ascribed,  and  many 
other  miscellaneous  exploits,  some  historical,  some  fabulous.  Here 
is  related  the  story  of  his  unsuccessful  expedition  against  King 
Helli  or  Halli  of  Scotland,  in  the  year  715,  in  which  he  was  taken 
prisoner,  and  thrown  into  a  dungeon,  where  he  was  destroyed  by 
snakes,  bearing  his  fate  with  invincible  stoicism,  saying  only  in 
allusion  to  his  sons  at  home,  '^  the  young  pigs  would  squeal  if  they 
knew  the  fate  of  the  boar."  The  news  being  brought  to  the  sons, 
Ivar  the  Boneless  did  not  stop  playing ;  Sigurd  Snake-eye,  who 
was  carving  his  spear-handle,  drove  the  spear-bead  through  his 
foot  without  observing  it  Biom  was  playing  at  dice ;  he  grasped 
the  die  with  such  force,  that  the  blood  burst  from  his  hand.  Then 
collecting  their  forces,  they  took  signal  revenge  for  the  death  of 
their  father. 

Another  theme  is  the  gradual  introduction  of  Christianity, 
about  ▲.  D.  1000.  How  Poppo  the  Bishop  put  on  hot  iron 
gauntlets  without  injury,  whereupon  multitudes  were  baptized, 
and  the  fiery  ordeal  substituted  for  the  duel  in  judicial  decisions. 
The  old  faith,  however,  still  lingered  for  a  long  time  in  comers 
of  the  land ;  in  particular,  the  Icelanders  were  hard  to  wean  from 
secret  sacrifices,  and  the  eating  of  horse-fiesh,  and  both  continued 
to  be  practised  hiddenly,  (as  the  laws  also  attest)  though  for- 

*  The  Lotroc  of  the  Romance  de  Ron,  and  Lothbroc  of  the  EngliBh 
chronicles. 


380  Short  Beviewa  and  Notices.  [June, 

bidden.  Homicide  is  a  frequently  recurring  item ;  not  many  pages 
are  without  cases  of  it.  Towards  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, we  observe  the  advances  of  Norway.  Gissur  Thorvaldson 
(afterwards  the  King's  lieutenant)  comes  over  and  receives  a  com- 
mand in  the  northern  parts.  What  he  did  to  make  himself  ob- 
noxious, unless  his  being  in  the  Norwegian  interest  was  known 
or  suspected,  is  not  discoverable ;  but  at  all  events,  after  the  gen- 
uine Norse  mode  of  redressing  grievances,  his  house  is  surrounded 
and  set  on  fire,  and  his  wife,  his  three  sons,  and  twenty-five  other 
persons  burned,  he  himself  narrowly  escaping  into  a  butt  of  sour 
whey  in  the  dailpy.  Thereupon  he  goes  to  Norway  again,  but 
soon  returns  with  the  title  of  Jarl,  doubtless  a  recompense  for 
losses  in  the  royal  service.  Soon  afterwards,  the  Norwegian  rule 
is  acknowledged  in  the  assemblies  of  one  district  af)er  another. 

Great  numbers  of  men  and  of  cattle  die  of  pestilences,  particu- 
larly after  hard  winters,  when  the  snows  are  deep,  (for  tbe  cattle 
are  kept  out  all  winter,)  or  in  cold  summers  when  the  hay  crop 
fails.  The  small-pox  appears  several  times;  first  in  1240.  In 
1289,  King  £ric  sends  one  Rolf  to  Iceland,  "  to  seek  the  new 
land''  (letta  NyjcUands).  In  1379,  it  is  recorded  that  "the 
Skrselings  attacked  the  Greenlanders,  and  slew  eighteen,  and  took 
two  boys  as  slaves." 

Several  outbursts  of  Heda ;  as  in  1300,  when  the  roofs  of  houses 
were  broken  by  the  falling  pumice  stones,  and  ashes  fell  so  thick 
that  it  was  never  darker  of  a  ranter's  night,  and  this  for  two  days. 
In  1314,  Audfin  the  Bishop  put  up  the  first  skwe  that  had  been 
seen  in  Iceland,  and  which  is  mentioned  afterwards  with  respect 
in  the  annals.  The  bishops  in  general,  were  good  to  the  poor, 
and  in  all  things  upright  and  useful  men.  Bishop  Orm,  however, 
was  an  exception ;  he  excited  the  ire  of  the  people  by  heavy  and 
unusual  exactions,  till  they  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  so  drove 
him  off  to  Norway;  and  the  other  bishop  going  ofi*  too,  Iceland 
was  for  a  while  without  any  bishop.  Towards  the  beginning  of 
the  fifteenth  century,  we  find  numbers  of  English  fishermen  on 
the  Iceland  coast.  In  1417,  twenty-five  of  their  vessels  were 
wrecked  in  one  storm.  On  one  occasion  some  of  them,  being  in 
want  of  provisions,  went  ashore  somewhere  in  the  northern  part  of 
the  island,  and  the  people  not  being  at  home,  they  helped  them- 
selves to  what  they  needed,  but  the  chronicle  remembers  to  add, 
they  left  the  money  for  it. 


1849.]  ShoH  Bmew$  and  Notice:  381 

4.  —  The  Nemesis  of  Faith.     By  J.  A.  Froude,  M.  A.,  Fel- 
low of  Exeter  College,  Oxford. 

"  KcH  fi^v  fp}(j  y  oitK  hi  fi(f^<f» 
Jiduv  aeaaXevTot' 
....    CKiprg,  (T  dvifiuv 
Hveiffiara  navTuVj  eif  uAX^Xa 
^Toaiv  dvrinvow  anoieucinffieva.''* 

London.     1849.     12mo.    pp.  228. 

The  author  of  this  work  is  the  son  of  Archdeacon  Froude,  now 
living  at  Devonshire,  and  brother  of  the  late  Mr.  Froude  one  of 
the  early  followers  of  Dr.  Pusey,  whose  "  Remains  "  became  so 
distinguished  a  few  years  ago.  The  present  is  quite  a  remarkable 
work  —  especially  when  we  consider  the  parentage  and  position 
of  the  author.  We  knew  the  sons  of  archdeacons  were  not 
insured  against  heresy,  or  even  insurable  at  any  office  in  the 
Church.  But  we  had  thought  that  there  was  one  spot  yet  dry 
and  untouched  by  the  flood  of  neology  which  in  this  country 
spreads  so  wide ;  that  spot  we  thought  was  at  Oxford,  and  the 
dryest  and  most  tenable  part  thereof  was  occupied  by  the  '^  schol- 
arships "  of  Oxford.  But  alas,  the  Dove  sent  forth  from  the  medi- 
eval ark  of  the  catholic  church  will  find  no  resting  place  for  the 
sole  of  her  foot,  we  fear,  and  must  return  to  the  patriarchal  hand* 
If  the  Tory  scholarships  of  Oxford,  becoming  nests  for  heresy, 
hardly  be  saved,  where  shall  the  ungodly  theological  schools  and 
dissenting  pulpits  of  New  England  appear?  Well  may  each  dis- 
senting sect  exclaim: — 

Quid  turn  miier  tunc  dictunti, 
Quern  Putronum  rogtUurui^ 
Qtmn  vix  Oxon  nt  9$curu$!  ^ 

Such  19  the  frailty  of  men  ;  so  powerful  is  still  the  old  Adam  in 
young  blood,  that  not  even  the  luxurious  scholarships  at  Oxford 
keep  men  from  heresy.  There  was  the  rich  clover  of  the  church, 
green  and  blooming  in  the  close  of  Oriel  college,  defended  by  a 
venerable  gate  with  thirty-nine  bars.  Yet  this  was  not  enough ! 
Such  is  the  depravity  of  human  nature !  The  Fellow  of  Oriel  has 
*' broken  college  "  and  overleaped  the  venerable  gate  —  thirty-nine 
bars  though  it  counted.  Alas,  there  is  no  more  clover  for  him, 
at  least  none  in  the  ecclesiastical  meadows  of  Oxford.  So  offen- 
sive is  this  unlucky  work  that  the  author  has  been  deprived  of 
his  scholarship.  Nay,  he  had  been  appointed  professor — we  know 
not  of  what,  in  a  ooUege  at  Hobartstown,  but  the  appointment  is 
revoked  **  by  order  of  the  queen,"  as  we  are  told ;  the  newspapers 
announce  that  the  work  has  been  academically  and  "publicly 
burned "  with  judicial  fire  at  Oxford.     This  we  hold  to  be  apoc- 


882  Short  Beviews  and  Mtices.  [June, 

ryphal,  for  we  think  the  grave  men  at  Oxford  know  that  in 
burning  a  book  nowadays  other  things  are  likely  to  take  fire. 
To  buy  a  book  that  is  printed  at  Paternoster  Row,  and  bum  it 
at  Oxford,  in  these  days  is  a  piece  of  wit  no  more  alarming  to 
authors  and  publishers  than  it  would  be  to  buy  calicoes  printed 
at  Manchester  and  burn  them  with  academic  fire.  It  makes 
the  better  market  for  the  rest.  Most  men  like  the  smell  of  a 
burnt  book.     But  let  us  return  to  the  work  of  Mr.  Froude. 

Markham  Sutherland  is  the  hero  of  the  tale.  He  relates  his 
own  history  for  some  time  to  his  friend  Arthur.  Markham  has  left 
the  university;  his  father  —  a  plain  man  of  a  few  good  rales, 
with  no  ungentlemanly  scruples  about  what  every  body  does  and 
believes,  a  little  thick  in  the  head,  perhaps,  but  sensitive  enough 
in  the  heart  —  wishes  the  son  to  choose  a  profession.  "  The  three 
black  graces"  alternately  present  their  charms  to  him,  but  he 
cannot  "get  the  apple  delivered.**  He  always  meant  to  be  a 
clergyman;  he  has  a  high  idea  of  the  clerical  profession,  and  says, 

"  I  cannot  understand  why,  as  a  body,  clergymen  are  so  fatally  nninterestinff ; 
they  who  through  all  their  waking  hours  ought  to  have  for  their  one  thought 
the  deepest  and  most  absorbing  interests  of  humanity.  It  is  the  curse  of  mak- 
ing it  a  profession  —  a  road  to  get  on  upon,  to  succeed  in  life  upon.  The  bate 
stain  is  apparent  in  their  very  language,  too  sad  an  index  of  what  they  are. 
Their  "  duty"  what  is  it  ?  —  to  patter  through  the  two  Sunday  services.  For 
a  little  mone^  one  of  them  will  undertake  the  other's  duty  for  him.  And  what 
do  they  all  aim  at  1  —  getting  livings  I  not  cures  of  souls,  but  Hviitgs ;  some- 
thing which  will  keep  their  wretched  bodies  living  in  the  comforts  they  have 
found  indispensable.  What  business  have  they,  any  one  of  them,  with  a 
thought  of  what  becomes  of  their  poor  wretched  selves  at  all  1  ....  Not  more 
than  one  in  fif\y  takes  orders  who  has  a  chance  in  any  other  line ;  but  there  is 
this  one  in  each  fifty,  and  so  noble  some  of  those  units  are,  that  they  are  not 
only  enough  for  the  salt  of  their  class,  but  for  the  salt  of  the  world  too.  Men 
who  do  indeed  spend  their  lives  among  the  poor  and  the  suflTering,  who  go 
down  and  are  content  to  make  a  home  in  those  rivers  of  wretchedness  that  run 
below  the  surface  of  this  modem  society,  asking  nothing  but  to  shed  their  lives, 
to  pour  one  drop  of  sweetness  into  that  bitter  stream  of  injustice:  oh.  Arthur, 
what  men  they  are  !  what  a  duty  that  might  be  !  I  think  if  it  is  true  what  they 
say  who  profit  by  this  modem  system  ;  if  there  is  indeed  no  help  for  it,  and  an 
ever  increasing  multitude  of  human  beings  must  drag  on  their  wretched  years 
in  toil  and  suffering  that  a  few  may  be  idle  and  enjoy ;  if  there  be  no  hope  for 
them ;  if  to-morrow  must  be  as  to-day,  and  they  are' to  live  but  to  labor,  and 
when  their  strength  is  spent,  are  but  to  languish  out  an  unpensioned  old  age  on 
a  public  charity  which  degrades  what  it  sustains ;  if  this  be  indeed  the  lot 
which,  by  an  irrevocable  decree,  it  has  pleased  Providence  to  stamp  upon  the 
huge  majority  of  mankind,  incomparably  the  highest  privilege  whicn  could  be 
given  to  any  one  of  us  is  to  be  allowed  to  sacrifice  himself  to  them,  to  teach 
them  to  hope  for  a  more  just  hereafter,  and  to  make  their  present  more  endur- 
able by  raising  their  minds  to  endure  it.  I  have  but  one  comfort  in  thinking  of 
the  poor,  and  that  is,  that  we  get  somehow  adjusted  to  the  condition  in  which 
we  grow  up,  and  we  do  not  miss  the  absence  of  what  wo  have  never  enjoyed. 
They  do  not  wear  out  faster,  at  least  not  much  faster,  than  the  better  fftvored  ; 
that  is,  if  you  may  reckon  up  life  by  years,  and  if  such  as  we  leave  them  may 
be  called  life.  Ob  what  a  clergyman  might  do  1  To  have  them  all  for  an  hour 
at  least  each  week  collected  to  be  taught  by  him,  really  wishing  to  listen,  if  he 


1849.] 


Short  BeviewM  and  Notices.  388 


will  bat  take  the  tronble  to  understand  them,  and  to  learn  what  thej  require  to 
be  told.  How  sick  one  is  of  all  sermons,  such  as  thev  are !  Why  will  men  go 
on  thrashing  over  and  again  the  old  withered  straw  that  was  thrashed  out  cen- 
turies ago,  when  every  field  is  waving  with  fresh,  quite  other,  crops  waving  for 
their  hand  ?    Is  it  indolence  or  folly  ?    What  is  it  ?  " 

But  he  cannot  be  a  clergyman. 

"  Arthur,  before  I  can  be  made  a  clergyman,  I  must  declare  that  I  unf!ugn- 
edly  believe  all  **  the  canonical  writing  of  the  Old  Testament ;"  and  1  cannot. 
What  does  it  mean  —  uitfeignedly  believe  it  all?  ....  I  suppose  we  are  to  be- 
lieve that  all  those  books  were  written  by  men  immediately  inspired  b^  God  to 
write  them,  because  He  thought  them  good  for  the  education  of  mankmd ;  that 
whatever  is  told  in  those  boc^  as  a  fact  is  a  real  fact^  and  that  the  Psalms  and 

Prophecies  were  composed  under  the  dictation  of  the  Holy  Spirit. If  there 

were  no  difficulties  but  these,  and  onlv  my  reason  were  perplexed.  I  could  easily 
school  m;^  reason ;  I  could  tell  myself  that  God  accommodated  His  revelations 
to  the  existing  condition  of  mankind,  and  wrote  in  their  language.  But,  Ar- 
thur, bear  with  me,  and  at  least  hear  me ;  though  my  head  may  deceive  me,  my 
heart  cannot  I  will  not,  I  roust  not,  believe  that  the  all-just,  all-merciful,  all- 
good  God  can  be  such  a  Being  as  I  find  him  there  described.  He !  He !  to  have 
created  mankind  liable  to  fall  —  to  have  laid  them  in  the  way  of  a  temptation 
under  which  He  knew  they  would  fall,  and  then  curse  them  and  all  who  were 
to  come  of  them,  and  all  the  world,  for  their  sakes ;  jealous,  passionate,  capri- 
cious, revengeful,  punishing  children  for  their  father's  sins,  tempting  men,  or  at 
least  permitting  them  to  be  tempted  into  blindness  and  folly,  and  then  destroy- 
ing them.  0,  Arthur,  Arthur !  this  is  not  a  Being  to  whom  I  could  teach  poor 
man  to  look  up  to  out  of  his  sufferings  in  love  and  hope.  What !  that  with  no 
motive  but  His  own  Tivill  He  chose  out  arbitrarily,  for  no  merit  of  their  own,  as 
an  eastern  despot  chooses  his  favorites,  one  small  section  of  mankind,  leaving 
all  the  world  besides  to  devil-worship  and  lies  *,  that  the  pure,  truth-loving  Per- 
sian of  the  mountains,  who  morning  and  night  poured  out  his  simple  prayer  to 
the  Universal  Father  for  the  good  of  all  His  children ;  that  the  noble  Greeks  of 
Marathon  and  Thermopyls,  the  austere  and  stately  Romans,  that  then  these 
were  outcasts,  aliens,  devil-worshippers ;  and  that  one  strange  people  of  fanat- 
ics so  hideously  cruel  that  even  women  and  children  fell  in  slangntered  heaps 
before  their  indiscriminating  swords,  that  these  alone  were  the  true  God's  true 
servants ;  that  God  bid  them  do  these  things,  and,  exulting  in'  their  successful 
Tengeance  as  a  .vindication  of  His  honor,  compelled  the  spheres  out  of  their 
courses  to  stand  still  and  assist  Uie  murdering ! . . . .  For  myself,  the  most  de- 
U^htful  trait  in  the  entire  long  history  is  that  golden  thread  of  humanity  which 
winds  along  below  the  cruelty  of  the  exclusive  theory,  and  here  and  there  ap- 
pears in  protest,  in  touches  of  deeper  sympathy  for  its  victims,  than  are  ever 
found  for  the  more  highly  favored.  Who  are  those  who  most  call  out  our  tears  1 
Is  it  not  the  outcast  momer  setting  down  her  child  that  she  may  not  see  it  die, 
the  injured  Esau,  the  fallen  Saul,  Aiah's  daughter  watching  by  her  murdered 
children,  or  that  unhappy  husband  who  followed  his  wife  weeping  all  along  the 
road  as  David's  minions  were  dragging  her  to  his  harem  1 " 

**  And  then  there  is  another  thing,  Arthur,  which  seems  to  be  taught,  not  in 
the  Old  Testament  but  in  the  New,  which  I  should  have  to  say  I  l^lieved ;  a 
doctrine  this,  not  a  histoiT,  and  a  doctrine  so  horrible  that  it  could  only  have 
taken  root  in  mankind  when  they  were  struggling  in  the  perplexities  of  Mani- 
cheeism,  and  believed  that  the  Devil  held  a  divided  empire  with  God.  I  mean 
that  the  latest  portion  of  mankind  are  to  be  tortured  for  ever  and  ever  in  un- 
speakable agonies." 

He  cannot  preach  such  doctrines. 

"  No,  if  I  am  to  be  a  minister  of  religion,  I  must  teach  the  poor  people  that 
theyhayea  Father  in  heaven,  not  a  tyrant;  one  who  loves  them  tM  beyond 


884  Short  Reviews  and  Notices.  [June, 

power  of  heart  to  conceive ;  who  is  sorry  when  they  do  wrong,  not  angry ;  whom 
they  are  to  love  and  drtad^  not  wjth  caitiff  coward  fear,  bat  with  deepest  awe 
and  reverence,  as  the  all-pure,  all-good,  all-holy.  I  could  never  fear  a  God 
who  kept  a  hell  prison-house.  No,  not  though  ho  flung  me  there  because  I  re- 
fiLsed.  There  is  a  power  stronget  than  such  a  one;  and  it  is  possible  to  walk 
unscathed  even  in  the  bumine  furnace.  What !  am  I  to  tell  these  poor  mil- 
lions of  sufferers,  who  strug^e  on  their  wretched  lives  of  want  and  misery, 
starved  into  sin,  maddened  into  passion  by  the  fiends  of  hanger  and  privatioii, 
in  ignorance  because  they  were  never  taught,  and  with  but  enonsh  of  knowl- 
edge to  feel  the  deep  injustice  under  which  they  are  pining;  am  I  to  tell  them, 
I  say,  that  there  is  no  hope  for  them  here,  and  less  than  none  hereafter ;  that 
the  grave  is  but  a  precipice  off  which  all,  all  of  them,  save  here  one  and  there 
one,  will  fall  down  into  another  life,  to  which  the  worst  of  earth  is  heaven  ! 
**  Why,  whv,"  they  may  lifl  up  theur  torn  hands  and  cry  in  bitter  anger, "  why, 
Almighty  One,  were  we  ever  l)om  at  all,  if  it  was  but  for  this  ?  ** 

Again  he  deyelops  more  fullj  some  of  the  difficulties  that  be 
feels. 

**  But  why  do  they  believe  it  at  aU  ?  They  must  say  because  it  is  in  the  Bible. 
Tes,  here  it  is.  Other  books  we  may  sit  in  judgment  upon,  but  not  upon  the 
Bible.  That  is  the  exception,  the  one  book  which  is  wholly  and  entirely  true. 
And  we  are  to  believe  wnatcver  is  there,  no  matter  how  monstrous,  on  the  au- 
thority of  God.  He  has  told  us,  and  that  is  enough.  But  how  do  they  know 
He  has  told  us.  The  Church  says  so.  Why  does  the  Church  say  so  t  Be- 
cause the  Jews  said  so.  And  how  do  we  know  the  Jews  could  not  be  mistaken  t 
Because  they  tnid  they  were  God's  people,  and  God  guided  them.  One  would 
have  thought  if  this  were  so,  He  would  have  guided  them  in  the  inteipreting 
their  books  too,  and  we  ought  to  be  all  Jews  now.  But,  in  the  name  of^  Heav- 
en, what  is  the  history  of  those  books  which  we  call  the  Old  Testament  ?  No 
one  knows  who  the  authors  were  of  the  greater  part  of  them,  or  even  at  what 
date  they  were  written.  They  make  no  claim  to  be  inspired  themselves ;  at 
least  only  the  prophets  make  such  claim ;  before  the  captivity  there  was  no  col- 
lection at  all ;  they  had  only  the  Book  or  the  Law,  as  it  is  called,  of  which  ther 
took  such  bad  care  that  what  that  was  none  of  us  now  know.  The  Pentateuca 
now  has  not  the  slightest  pretensions  to  be  what  Moses  read  in  the  ears  of  all  the 
people,  and  Joshua  wrote  upon  twelve  stones.  . . .  The  Mahometans  say  their 
Koran  was  written  by  God.  The  Hindoos  say  the  Vedas  were.  We  say  the 
Bible  was,  and  we  are  but  interested  witnesses  in  deciding  absolutely  and  ex- 
clusively for  ourselves.  If  it  be  immeasurably  the  highest  of  the  three,  it  is 
because  it  is  not  the  most  divine  but  the  most  human.  It  does  not  differ  from 
them  in  kind ;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  in  ascribing  it  to  God  we  are  doing  a 
double  dishonor;  to  ourselves  for  want  of  faith  m  our  soul's  stren^,  uid 
to  God  in  making  Him  responsible  for  our  weakness.  There  is  nothing  in  it 
but  what  men  might  have  written ;  much,  oh  much,  which  it  would  drive  me 
road  to  think  any  out  men,  and  most  mistaken  men,  had  written.  Yet  still  as 
a  whole,  it  is  by  far  the  noblest  collection  of  sacred  books  in  the  world ;  the  out- 
pouring of  the  mind  of  a  people  in  whom  a  larger  share  of  God's  spirit  was 
for  many  centuries  working  than  in  any  other  of  mankind,  or  who  at  least 
most  clearly  caught  and  carried  home  to  themselves  the  idea  of  the  direct  and 
immediate  dependence  of  the  world  upon  Him.  It  is  so  good  that  as  meo 
looked  at  it  they  said  this  is  too  good  for  man ;  nothing  but  the  inspiration  of 
God  could  have  given  this." 

Sach  a  man,  in  such  a  state  of  mind,  is  not  likely  to  take  dea- 
con's orders  in  the  English  Church ;  bat  one  of  his  brothers  in 
the  navy  ^  has  just  got  his  epaulets,**  and  two  others  in  a  mercan- 
tile house  have  golden  harvests,  or  at  least  a  golden  seed-time, 


IU9.}  S^MTt  Bmmo$  aand  N$tice$.  885 

and  a  hiurrmi  ia jproapect;  the  biBfaop  dkxtA.  his  fSeUber  a  liying 
fi)r  MarkhaoL  The  joong  man  oonsulted  his  unde  the  dean, 
and  told  huo  all  his  doubt  He  treated  it  simply  as  a  javeoile 
disorder  *^  which  a  few  weeks  parish  intercourse  aod  pracdcal  ac- 
quidntance  with  mankind  would  dissipate  as  a  matter  of  course ;  ** 
«*  it  was  all  nothing."  So  the  young  man  consents  to  take  a  place 
as  teacher  in  tiie  charoh,  thinking  of  Sjaesins,  ^  wfao,"  as  he 
sajs,  '^  when  he  was  pressed  to  take  a  bishopric  by  the  Alexan- 
dnan  metropolitan,  declared  he  would  not  teach  fables  in  cburch 
unless  he  might  philosophize  at  home."  Markham  becomes  a 
priest,  preaches  what  he  has  to  offer.  Piety  and  Goodness,  with 
Uttle  theology,  and  none  of  the  popular  sort  So  affiurs  pass 
on  for  a  year ;  at  length  by  the  contriyance  of  another  clergyman, 
he  is  forced  to  decla^  himself,  in  private,  against  the  Bible  So- 
ciety, as  follows : 

"  It  18  trae  I  haye  particular  f(Befiiii|;t.  I  dislike  societies  generaOy ;  I  would 
join  in  none  of  them.  For  your  soaetj  in  particolar,  as  70a  insist  on  inj  teH- 
ing  70a,  I  think  it  is  the  Yerj  worst,  with  the  estabtishmeat  of  which  I  have 
Men  aoqnainlad.  Considering  all  the  heresies,  the  enonnoos  crimes,  the  wick- 
ednesseSfthe  astounding  follies  which  the  Bible  has  been  made  topostify.and 
which  its  indiscriminate  reading  has  suggested ;  considering  that  it  has  been, 
indeed,  the  sword  which  onr  Lord  said  ttSit  he  was  sending ;  that  not  the  Deril 
hknself  conld  have  invented  an  implement  more  potent  to  fill  the  hated  world 
with  lies,  and  blood,  and  Airy ;  I  thmk,  certainly,  that  to  send  hawkers  over  the 
world  loaded  with  c(^es  of  this  book,  scattering  it  in  all  places  among  all  per- 
sons  —  not  teaching  them  to  understand  it ;  not  standing,  like  Moses,  between 
that  heaTenly  light  and  them ;  but  cramming  it  into  their  own  hands  as  God's 
bodt,  whidi  He  wrote,  and  they  are  to  read,  each  for  Umseif;  and  lean  what 
tbey  can  for  (hemselvei— is  the  most  colpable  folly  of  whidi  it  is  possible  finr 
I  to  be  goilty." 


He  confers  irith  the  bishop,  who  advises  him  to  leave  his  parish 
in  the  hands  of  a  vicar,  and  travel  for  some  years,  in  hopes  of 
finding  an  orthodox  belie£ 

'<  Ckolum  non  animnm  mntant  qui  trans  mare  cnrmnt'*  A  win- 
ter at  Como  does  not  end  his  skepticism,  but  briogs  him  into  fresh 
dangers,  which,  in  his  state  of  mind,  he  is  ill  fitted  to  contend  with. 
He  makes  the  acquaintance  of  a  Mr.  Leonard,  *'  an  easy,  good- 
natured,  and  not  very  sensible  English  country  gentleman,  whose 
fortune,  more  than  his  person,  had,  some  years  before,  induced  a 
certain  noble  family  at  home  to  dispose  of  an  incumbrance  to  him, 
in  the  person  of  a  distantly  related  young  lady  who  had  been 
thrown  upon  them  for  support  She  had  married  him,  and  ever 
since  had  been  tolerating  a  sort  of  inert  existence,  which  she  did 
not  know  to  be  a  wretched  one,  only  because  his  heart  was  still  in  its 
dirysalis,  and  she  had  never  experienced  another.''  Her  husband 
took  little  comfmrt  in  her,  and  she  little  in  him  —  the  real  bond  ^ 
union  was  Ajanie,  a  young  daughter.  Gradually  she  and  Mark- 
ham  became  intimate,  attached,  and  enamored ;  Annie  dies  through 

NO.  vn.  26 


S86  Short  Revum  md  NMce$.  [/wey 

the  accidental  carelessness  of  the  mother :  —  **  a  pnmshment,"  she 
says, "  for  mj  sin  in  marrying  her  father."  A  sense  of  their  e(mdi- 
tion  fhrther  comes  npon  the  unhappy  pair.  She  flees  to  a  convent ; 
he  is  about  to  end  his  life,  when  another  appears,  and  dashes  the 
poison  from  his  cup,  and  telb  him  — 

**  Your  pfaOosophy,  as  yoa  called  it,  tao^  yoa  to  doabtufaedier  sia  was  not 
a  dream ;  yon  feel  it  now ;  it  is  no  dream,  it  is  a  real,  a  borrible power ;  andToa 
see  whither  jon  hare  been  led  in  following  blindly  a  guide  whidi  is  bat  a  <Aild 
of  the  spirit  of  OTiL** 

She  soon  enters  the  Catholic  Church  in  de^Mur,  and  to  seek  a 
hiding-place.    In  a  few  years, 

**Tbe  stricken  deer  that  left  the  herd. 
With  many  «n  arrow  deep  infixed," 

passed  qmetly  away ;  for,  where  hope  never  comes,  death  comes 
at  last,  with  a  handM  of  dust  to  allay  this  murmuring  swarm  of 
passions,  vanities,  and  hopes,  and  to  hive  the  exiled  soul  under  the 
dlielter  of  a  Providence  who  not  only  knows  what  sin  is,  but  the 
thing  more  difficult,  who  is  a  sinner. 

There  is  no  logical  connection  between  Markham's  creed  and 
the  catastrq>he  of  the  book;  the  connection  is  purely  drcunutamf 
tialf  and  might  have  happened  to  the  bishop  or  the  dean,  spite  ef 
their  soundness  in  theological  belief;  but  most  readers  w31  say: 
this  is  the  result  of  such  disbelief;  this  is  the  Nemesis  c^  faith. 
Did  the  author  mean  to  show,  if  a  man  is  bred  in  a  theology  which 
cannot  stand,  that  when  it  falls  he  is  left  undefended,  and  must 
also  fall  ?  Then  the  work  is  imperfect ;  for  the  result  is  brought 
about  by  circumstances,  wholly  independent  of  the  doubting  man. 
Did  the  author  mean  to  promulgate  his  doubt,  his  denial,  and  es- 
cape the  consequences  by  this  subterfuge,  and  say  to  his  opponents : 
true  there  are  doubts  unanswered,  but  see  the  fate  of  him  who 
cherishes  such  unholy  birds  in  his  nest?  We  do  not  doubt  the 
writer's  honesty,  only  in  this  particular  confess  the  lack  of  artbde 
skill 


5.  —  Kavanaghf  a  Tale,     By  Henbt  Wadswo&th  Lono- 
FELLOW.    Boston.     1849.     12mo.    pp.  188. 


**  Thm  fUghtj  pmp<e»  iMnr  Is  overlook, 
UbImi  the  dewl  fo  with  It"  —  SaAKSPiABi. 


This  is  a  delightfhl  little  work,  as  are  aH  Mr.  LengfellowV 
It  makes  the  same  impression  as  a  beautifal  picture  of  sim[^ 
life,  —  men,  women,  and  children  in  the  midst  of  nature,  where 
nothing  is  crowded,  but  aH  things  are  harmonioasly  grouped 


1849.]  Short  Beview$  md  Notice.  887 

together.  The  work  is  ridi  m  qaiet  hamoar,  in  simple  and 
natoral  descriptions.  The  characters  seem  living  persons,  Mr. 
(%urchill,  Mr.  Pendexter,  and  his  "  old  white  horse,  that  for  so 
many  years  had  stamped  atfanerals,  and  gnawed  the  tops  of  so 
many  posts,  and  imagined  he  killed  so  many  flies  beoEtuse  he 
wagged  the  stamp  of  a  tail,**  aad  ^  had  a  verj  disdainful  fling  to 
his  hind  legs,"  and  ^  Miss  Amelia  Hawkins,**  ^  who  remained 
unmarried,  thoagh  possessing  a  talent  for  matrimony,  which 
amounted  almost  to  genius, "  —  these,  and  indeed  all  the  charac- 
ters in  the  work, —  from  Mr.  ^  Wilmerdings  the  butcher,  standing 
beside  his  cart,  and  surrounded  by  five  cats,"  to  Mr.  Kayanagh 
himself,  studying  preaching,  and  courting  in  the  sweet  natural 
way  —  are  sketched  with  such  fidelity  to  nature,  that  the  reader 
thinks  them  real  persons  who  really  live  in  some  actual  Fairmead* 
ow.  "  Mr.  H.  Adolphns  Hawkins  "  is  a  ^  gentleman  "  that  every 
body  remembers.  There  are  little  inaccuracies  in  the  work,  as  in 
most  of  the  works  of  this  accomplished  and  graceful  author;  — 
a  little  confiision  in  the  natural  history,  wMch  we  should  not 
expect  in  so  nice  an  observer  of  hnman  life.  Still  we  should  say, 
this  is  perhaps  the  most  pleasing  of  all  Mr.  Longfellow's  produo- 
tioiis,  k  we  had  not  said  the  same  of  several  others  as  they 
soooessively  appeared.  The  general  effect  of  this,  and  indeed  of 
all  his  works,  is  quiet  and  soothing ;  he  inspires  the  reader  with 
tenderness,  with  philanthropy,  wi&  love  of  beauty,  and  with  love 
of  God. 


6.  —  Wilhelm  Von  Humboldes  Oesammehe   Werke.      Boston^ 
1841-1848.    8vo.    Vol  L  to  VL 

Alexander  Yon  Humboldt  has  undertaken  to  edit  the  works 
of  his  deceased  brother,  which  have  hitherto  been  scattered  in 
Tarious  quarters  of  the  literary  world,  and  therefore  inaccessible. 
He  says  of  them,  "  The  fragments  collected  together  in  these 
volumes  belong  to  a  numerous  and  wide  circle  of  ideas ;.  they  are 
philosophical  investigations  which  have  been  made  at  various 
times,  and  under  the  varying  impulses  of  great  events  in.  the  life 
of  the  nations ;  they  disclose  to  us  the  Man  in  all  the  affluence  of 
bis  majestic  mind  and  spiritual  power ;  the  Politician  confirmed  in 
bis  free  style  of  thought,  at  the  same  time  by  a  profound  knowl- 
edge of  Greek,  Roman,  and  Indian  antiquity,  and  bf  a  serious 
and  penetrating  insight  into  the  connections  of  modem  events  in 
the  history  of  the  w(^d.  In  these  volumes  is  shown  a  peculiar 
greatness  which  does  not  proceed  from  intellectual  qualities  alone, 
bnt  more  immediatdy  from  greatness  of  character,  from  a  mmd 


Short  Revimn  mnd  Natio$i.  CTnae^ 

never  Kmiled  bj  tlie  present  times,  andfimn  antrnfrflMiiieddeplli 
ef  sentiiDeiit'' 

The  most  important  works  are  a  translatioa  of  Pindar,  of  two 
dramas  of  JEachylm;  treatises  on  the  strootiue  of  language;  and 
orkioisms  of  yarioas  works,  ancient  and  modem.  One  Tolame  is 
mainly  filled  with  his  eelebrated  criticism  on  Goethe'fl  Ekrmami 
and  Dorothea.  Eadi  volmne  contains  seyeral  pieces  of  poetry, 
many  of  whidi,  espedallj  the  sonnets,  are  now  published  ftr  the 
ilrst  time. 


7. — The  Ltf€  of  JMbxtPtttSort  Robespierre;  with  extaots  from 
his  nnpubli^ed  Correspondence.  By  O.  G.  H.  Lswis,  dec, 
Asc    London.    1849.    12mo.    pp.  xu  and  392. 

This  work  has  been  apparently  broagfat  out  by  the  events  of 
the  past  year,  which  have  again  turned  liie  eyes  of  men  towards 
the  unpleasing  figure  of  Robespierre.  The  author  derives  his 
information  fiom  the  well  known  histories  of  the  French  Revoki- 
tion,  speciid  histories  of  Robespierre,  from  an  article  in  the 
^ Quarterly"  and  another  in  the  ^ British  and  Foreign  Review," 
and  from  some  MSS.  letters  of  his  hero  fimiished  by  M.  Lonis 
Blanc 

The  work,  to  judge  from  the  matter  and  the  form,  seems  hastily 
written ;  it  contains  much  valuable  matter,  but  is  by  no  means  an 
adequate  biography  of  Robespierre,  though  perhaps  the  best  we 
have. 


8.  —  A  Discourse  dehvered  before  the  Rhode  Itbmd  Bistoncol 
Society,  on  the  evening  of  Febraary  Ist,  1849.  By  QsoaeB 
WASHmaTOK  Qrebitb,  &c.,  Sec  Fubliished  at  the  raqaest  of 
the  Society.    Providence.    1849.    8vo.    pp.  24. 

Mr.  Grbekb  is  well  known  as  an  acoomfiidied  and  elegant 
scholar,  who  filled  the  office  of  American  consul  at  Rome  for 
several  years.  Some  Mtieles  from  Ins  pen  did  honor  to  one  of 
the  most  important  periodicals  in  America.  In  this  oration  lie 
offers  a  slight  sketch  of  t^e  ^  Progress  of  Historical  Science  in 
connection  with  the  progress  of  society."  He  s«y^  in  the  eariiest 
a^  History  seems  little  more  than  a  mere  rhythmieai  nanatkm 
of  events,  but  not  the  less  gives  the  outlines  of  the  picture  of  the 
narrator^s  own  age ;  soon  Histoiy  4e8eeiids  from  traditioos  to 


1849.J 


ShoH  Bemm9  md  iToHeei.  &8d 


monmnents,  from  poetrj  to  prose,  «nd  embrftces  more  objoeCit. 
At  last  it  becomes  a  grand  Art  which  paints  individuals  and  jet 
preserves  to  os  the  characteristics  of  the  great  races  of  men.  The 
Oration  is  written  in  the  large  and  hnmane  spirit  of  one  fisuniliat 
with  books,  famailiar  also  with  men  of  various  nations  and  races. 
We  have  space  but  for  a  single  extract: 

'*AU  tbe  historiAo's  inquiries  are  attempts  to  solve  those  questions  in  the 
social  and  political  condition  of  former  times,  which  are  the  chief  object  of  at- 
tention in  his  own.  His  silence  even,  often  goes  farther  than  the  most  labored 
paragraph,  as  when  we  are  told  that  only  a  single  senator  perished  in  the  see- 
ond  sacK  of  Bome,  and  ask  —  what  the  histoi&ns  of  diat  age  never  ikovfjlA 
of  aiding,  —  bat  where  were  the  people  ?  The  furter,  ther^re,  that  dviliia- 
tion  is  advanced,  the  more  important  becomes  the  office  of  the  historian  ^  the 
wider  the  field  of  general  knowledge,  the  more  extensive  the  ran^e  of  philo- 
sophical inqnh^,  1^  so  mnch  the  more  is  Ins  sphere  enlafged  and  his  responti- 
bimies  iocreased.  The  cariosity  which  in  one  age  rests  satisfied  with  a  simple 
narrative  of  events^  demands,  m  another,  an  exposition  of  thehr  canses  and 
their  results ;  and  extending  by  degrees,  fi-om  minute  details  to  general  views, 
from  statistical  data  to  philosophic  generalization,  arrives,  at  last,  at  the  pro- 
doetton  of  a  living  pictore  of  society,  in  all  its  varied  forms,  and  a  recosniHoa 
of  the  great  spirit  of  humanity,  which  pervades  and  g^ves  life  to  them  luL" 


9.  —  1.  Cosmos :  Sketch  of  a  Fkystcal  Description  of  the  Universe. 
By  Albxandbr  Von  Humboi^dt,  &c  ^.  &c.  Translated 
ander  the  saperintendence  of  Lieut.  Col«  Sabinb,  d^  iso. 
Seventh  Edition.  London.  1849.  2  vols.  13mo.  pp.  d5€ 
and  cxxxvin ;  and  860  and  cxlu. 

2.  Cosmos :  &c  Translated  from  the  German.  Bj  E.  CL 
Otte,  &c.  &c  London.  1848-9.  2  vols.  12mo.  pp. 
xLix  and  766 

Here  we  have  two  translations  of  the  celebrated  book  of  Yon 
Hamboldt  When  the  original  is  completed  we  intend  to  ofiTer 
our  readers  a  review  of  this  magnificent  worL  At  present  we 
wish  to  speak  onlv  of  the  two  rival  versions :  tbej  are  both 
made  by  ladies.  No.  1  is  called  *'  the  authorized  English  trans- 
lation," having  received,  it  is  said,  the  imprinuUur  of  the  an- 
ther himself.  The  publishers  state,  that  '*it  was  undertaken 
at  M.  de  Humboldt's  express  desire,"  and  that  he  himself  read 
over  the  proof  sheets  of  the  first  volume,  and  of  the  second  to 
page  100,  after  which  they  were  read  by  Chevalier  Bunsen.** 
This  statement  we  fear  must  be  taken,  as  men  take  the  state^ 
ment  of  an  auctioneer,  with  a  grain  of  allowance.  It  is  cer- 
tainly not  probable,  that  so  busy  a  man  as  Yon  Humboldt 
spends  much  time  in  looking  over  proof  sheets,  even  of  his  own 


890  ShaH  BeviewB  and  Natieei.  [Jmie, 

works ;  an  examination  of  this  will  leave  it  doabtfbl  tbat  he  saw 
all  the  sheets  of  the  first  volume.  In  the  original,  Vol  L,  p. 
381  -  382,  there  is  a  paragraph  which  begins  in  this  manner : 
'^  The  geographical  investigations  (meaning  apparently  the  legend- 
ary histories)  respecting  the  ancient  seat,  the  cradle  of  the 
human  race  so  called,  have,  in  fact,  a  character  purely  mythicaL" 
He  then  quotes  a  very  long  passage  from  a  MS.  work  of  his  late 
brother  on  ^  The  Diversity  of  Languages  and  Nations,"  to  cor- 
roborate his  own  statement.  The  whole  passage  is  omitted  in  No. 
1,  and  the  reader  is  not  i^prised  of  the  fact  The  reason  is 
obvious, —  Yon  Humboldt's  statement  does  not  agree  with  the 
popular  Theology  of  England.  Now  this  is  downright  dishonesty, 
and  we  confess  we  are  amazed  that  Col.  Sabine  and  Mr.  Murray 
should  be  guilty  of  such  an  imposition  upon  the  public  The 
translation  in  general  is  at  best  but  a  poor  one;  the  author's 
meaning  is  often  obscured  by  the  writer ;  sometimes  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  ascertain  it ;  sometimes  there  is  no  meaning  left  which  we 
can  discover,  and  sometimes  an  opinion  just  opposite  to  the 
original,  is  put  before  us. 

No.  2  appears  to  be  a  translation  of  the  whole  work.  Miss 
Ott^  has  in  general  succeeded  much  better  than  her  predecessor, 
but  sometimes  she  misses  the  author's  meaning,  where  Mrs.  Sabine 
had  seen  and  preserved  it ;  sometimes  she  obscures  and  weakens 
a  sentence  by  giving  a  paraphrase  and  not  an  exact  version* 
But  on  the  whole,  her  translation  is  far  better  than  Mrs.  Sabine's, 
and  is  sufficiently  literal.  Still,  we  think  it  unfortunate  that  so 
valuable  a  work  —  requiring  not  merely  a  knowledge  of  the  Ger- 
man language,  but  also  an  acquaintance  with  the  things  treated 
of  in  the  work  —  should  not  have  found  some  person  of  high 
scientific  attainments  to  render  it  into  English. 


10.  —  The  Chspel  of  Labor:  a  Poem,  delivered  before  the  Me- 
chanic Apprentices'  Library  Association,  on  the  occasion  of 
their  Twenty-ninth  Anniversary,  February  22,  1849.  By  A.  J. 
H.  DuoANNs,  an  honorary  member.  Boston.  1849.  8vo. 
pp.  16. 

Sometimes  a  man  speaks  because  he  has  something  to  say ; 
sometimes  because  he  has  to  say  something.  Anniversary  poems 
are  often  written  by  men  of  the  latter  class,  but  this  seems  to 
come  from  a  man  who  speaks  because  he  has  something  to  say. 
The  substance  is  more  perfect  than  the  form ;  the  author  som^ 
times  struggles  with  his  material,  and  cannot  mould  and  master 


18490 


Short  BmewM  md  NoUcn.  891 


the  day  into  which  he  had  breathed  the  breath  of  life.  He 
speaks  of  the  dignitj  of  labor :  man,  when  expelled  from  Eden, 
thoaght  himself  blamed  for  ever ;  the  poet  thinks  that  expulsion 
was  the  best  thing  which  could  have  happened  to  him. 

"  The  sonliffht  and  the  perfome,  and  the  flowers, 
Were  hidden  in  Baith^s  solitary  howert,  — 
And  Adam*8  curse  was  that  he  saw  them  not  1 
Natnre  with  Eden^s  loveliness  was  fraueht, 
Bnt  all  was  gloom  to  Man's  nnedncated  thongfat  1 

**  Bat  Toil  was  not  his  cnrse !    The  Eternal's  plan, 
Shronded  in  mystery,  was  the  good  of  Man ! 
Paradise  was  earth's  foretaste  —  Adam  shared 
Its  peace,  that  he  for  earth  might  he  prepared. 
Man  was  first  placed  in  Eden's  howers,  to  leam 
The  heaven  of  joy  that  he  through  toil  might  earn; 
Then  from  its  eates,  the  Eternal  led  him  forth, 
To  plack  that  heaven  from  the  golden  earth." 

God  is  oontianallj  at  work, 

"        .        .       .        .        and  eea$ek$$  nJU 
Out  from  hU  h<nmdU9$  heart  thtocean  of  mm*$  sotrff.** 

Again  he  says: — 

"  Fearfhlly  do  we  tread 
The  Alpine  masonry  of  pyramids  — 
And  shndderinjzly  our  feet  are  led 
Through  ^ypt's  populous  tomhs. 
The  e<moleu  catacombs  — 
Beneath  whose  rocky  lids 
Slumber  a  nation's  dead ! 
With  awe  we  mark  the  pillars  overthrown 
Of  what  was  once  the  Athenian's  Parthenon: 
With  fear  we  scan  the  crumbling  stone 
Of  Rome's  dread  Colliseum  — 
Her  pride — her  mansolenm  I 
We  dream  not  that  those  wrecks  of  old 
A  prepiant  lesson  may  unfold^ 
Omr  bund  souls  have  never  scanned 
What  Rain's  damp  and  mildewed  hand 
Hath  writ  upon  each  mouldering  wall !  — 
A  lesson  like  the  scroll  in  doomed  Belshanar's  hall! 


**  Those  Ruins  antwir  us !    They  speak  amid 
The  shadowT  years,  Hke  Samuel  unto  Saol : 
Each  stone  hath  voice  —  as  if  within  the  wall 
A  multitude  of  prisoned  souls  were  hid; 

Behold  1  they  cry  —  behold  these  crumbling  pile 
Aremve-stones  or  the  People —of  the  slaves. 

The  masses — by  whose  sweat  and  bloody  toils 
All  were  upreared  —  walls,  bases,  architraves ! — 
Tkete  art  Uu  momunenti  of  those  who  haweno  graoee. 

"•  Those  Ruins  teach  ut!    Kings  have  writ  their  name 
Upon  those  crashed  entalwttnrea,  and  deemed 


392  Short  Iteviews  and  Nbtice$.  [June, 

Their  memory  deathless  as  each  oolnmn  seemed : 
'Whj  is  it  that  nor  king  nor  vassid  claims 
llie  hoBsago  i^iich  their  awftil  woilcs  inB|ibd? 
Why  is  it  Uiat  we  gase — perchance  admiie— 
Tet  reck  not  of  the  long-forgotten  builder, 
Whose  handiwork,  eren  in  rains,  can  bewilder  f 

*'It  is  because  Ae  soul  whicb  was  in  him 

Who  built,  hath  passed  into  his  work.    It  is 
.  Because  the  eternal  life  which  had  been  his, 
Was  trodden  out  by  kings  from  soul  and  Rrab,  — 
That  with  it  they  mi^  build  these  monumenta 
To  their  own  glory.*-  Human  soul  and  sense 
Was  sacrificed  to  matter — and  stones  became. 
Instead  of  men,  the  altais  of  a  nation's  fiune. 

"  Myriads  of  men  were  melted  into  brass 

^or  Bhodes*  Colossus — millions  crushed  to  day, 
That  Thebes  might  dazzle  throu^  her  short-liVed  day ; 
O,  had  these  hecatombs  of  souls  —  this  mass 
Of  liTing  Labor  been  together  welded !  — 
Had  one  great  mental  monument  been  bnflded !  — 
Then  had  that  rescued  and  united  whole 
Templed  oreatioQ  with  a  deathless  hniiaan  soul ! 


*"  Nations  are  built  of  Men.    The  mighty  frao&e 
Of  that  huge  skeleton — a  state — 
Govern  we  it  with  priest  or  potentate- 
Is  evermore  the  same : 
Bones,  sinews,  flesh,  and  blood  of  human  kind, 

Moulded  together,  and  made  one, 
By  that  tremendous  charm  —  the  Mind ; 

And  ruled,  if  ruin  it  would  shun. 
By  one  great  bond  of  brotherhood — 
Swayed  for  one  object  —  human  good  1** 


11.  —  Poems.    Bj  Jamss  T.  Fields.     Boston.    1844.    12iiio. 
pp.  Yi.  and  100. 

This  volume  contains  twentj^nine  poetical  pieces.     We  haye 
room  onlj  for  the  following  extract^  which  speaks  for  itself. 

EVENTIDE. 

WRITTBV  nr  THE  OOUKTET. 

This  ootta^  door,  Uiis  gen^  gale. 
Hay-scented,  whispering  round. 
Ton  path>Bide  rose,  that  down  the  rale 
Breames  incense  from  the  ground, 

Methinks  should  from  the  dullest  elod 
[  Invite  a  thankful  heart  to  Qod. 


1649.]  Shffrt  Mmewt  and  Katieei.  89a 

BM,  X^MPO,  th6  TnNCt)  MMill|^  KfW^ 

Seems  better  moved  to  praise ; 

From  Qfl,  what  scanty  brasshigs  flow, 

&w  Toicdess  dose  our  days : — 
Either,  fornre  us,  and  the  flowers 
Sbfdl  lead  m  prayer  the  yesper  hours. 


12.— To  the  I^rishianers  of  CaharyChurc?i.  NewTorL  1848. 
A  Pastoral  Arom  the  Rector  to  Uie  Parishioners  of  Calyary 
Chardi,  New  York.    12mo.    pp.  24. 

This  is  a  pastoral  letter  from  the  Rer.  Samuel  L.  Southard  to 
his  flock.  We  are  acquainted  with  the  author  only  bj  means  of 
this  little  pamphlet  He  seems  to  be  a  serions,  earnest  man,  de- 
sirous of  promoting  the  spiritual  welfare  of  his  parishioners ;  but 
it  is  written  in  the  spirit  of  the  Catholic  clergy  in  the  times  of 
Saint  Bernard.  At  Uie  first  glance  over  these  pages  a  liberal  and 
intelligent  man  will  naturally  smile  at  the  pretensions  to  authority 
set  forth  bj  the  Rector  of  Calvary  Church ;  but  soon  a  sincere 
man  becomes  sad  at  the  sight  of  such  pretensions  in  America,  and 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  especially  when  he  remem- 
bers that  there  are  thousands  who  will  probably  yield  wilKng 
necks  to  this  priestly  domination.  He  says,  (the  Italics  are  not 
ours,) 

*^  Ton  should  look  on  the  ministrr  as  dwin^  appointed  to  mle  orer  and 
teach  you ;  to  preach  the  gospel,  *  as  this  Church  hath  receired  the  same ; '  and 
giTe  you  the  means  of  srace.  Not  as  agents  of  man,  or  your  agents  —  sup- 
Borted,  but  not  hired,  ^ever  speak  against  them  without  compulsion.  If  yon, 
oifler  from  your  Pastors  in  <^»nion,  be  content  to  differ  without  words.  Heeeive 
all  you  can  of  profit  from  their  ministrations,  and  be  sdlL  If  they  err  in  judg- 
ment, pray  for  them.  While  you  remain  in  a  parish,  never  cause  a  division  of 
the  people.  And  always  remember  that  more  must  be  yielded  to  the  judgment 
of  your  Pastors,  than  is  due  lo  your  own  j  it  is  their  prorince;  and  theiiB  is  the 
responsibility.'* 

**  The  connexion  of  the  dergy  and  the  people  in  spiritual  things  is  nearer 
ihan  any  relation  on  earth.    There  is  no  tie  so  near — of  friendship  or  of  blood.** 

^  Removals  from  parish  to  parish  are  to  be  avoided  if  possible ;  never  <^anga 
from  whim  or  caprice :  never  altogether  from  taste In  changing  your  res- 
idence, have  an  eye  to  proximity  to  a  Church,  before  all  things  but  health ;  and 
as  a  eeneral  rule  go  to  the  Church  which  is  nearest." 

"  Always,  unless  friom  a  conscientious  excuse,  attend  service  and  worsbm  in 
jfOMT  oum  parish  Chnrdi.  Bi  eontaU  with  the  services  then.  They  will  be 
enough  for  your  soul :  more  than  you  vrill  improve.  If  you  fancy  you  need 
more  of  nourishment  than  you  receive,  apply  to  your  iVtesI;  but  never  stray 
off  to  seek  it  yonrselH  Ton  know  your  own  pastures ;  but  you  may  eat  earlic 
elsewhere.  Tour  Shepherd,  whoever  in  the  Providence  of  God  he  may  oe,  is 
the  Shepherdybr  you.  Itching  ears  are  one  of  the  heariest  judgments  of  Ood, 
and  mere  cunosity  in  religious  affairs  may  bt  a  sin.    ^eep  who  wander  from 


894  Shni  Beviews  and  N(>tiee$.  [ Jime, 

pasture  to  pat  tore  will  be  cared  for  bj  none,  and  maj  meet  tbe  wolf  in  tiie 
way." 

^  Nerer  many  one  to  whom  70a  may  be  related  nearer  than  the^^/U  degree. 
Never  marry  the  relations  of  a  deceased  wife,  in  anv  de^p:^  nearer  than  yon 
are.  Ton  shonld  never  marry  ouiofthe  faith  [L  e.  the  faith  of  the  EpisoMMi 
Chnrchl :  esptciallff  a  woman^  who,  tnereby,  becomes  sabiect "  to  the  law  of  ner 
husbano,''  who  may  ke^  her  away  from  the  Church.  "Better  never  to  many 
than  make  shipwreck  or  the  faith  [t  e.  of  the  bttUfof  the  Episco^  Church.]^ 

**  Use  hospitality.  Be  careful  to  entertain  strangers:  and  espeoally  the  min- 
istry of  Goo.  A  clergyman  [I  e.  of  the  Episcopal  Cnnrch]  should  never  be 
left  at  an  Inn." 


12. — A  Letter  of  the  celebrated  John  Foster  to  a  young  minisUr, 
on  the  duration  of  Future  Punishment:  unth  an  introduction 
and  notes,  consisting  chiefly  of  extracts  from  orthodox  uniters  ; 
and  an  earnest  appeal  to  the  American  Tract  Society  in  re* 
gardtothec/uiracterqfitspublicatians,  Boston.  1849.  12mo. 
pp.  120. 

The  anonymous  author  is  apparently  an  able  scholar,  and  writes 
with  the  style  of  a  serious  and  thoughtful  man  who  feels  that  his 
words  will  have  effect,  as  they  certainly  have  weight  He  shows, 
in  the  first  place,  that  many  men  otherwise  *<  orthodox,"  that  is 
more  or  less  Calvinistic,  do  not  believe  the  doctrine  of  eternal  dam- 
nation. He  then  addresses  the  American  Tract  Society,  and  justly 
censures  that  body  for  publishing  books  which  contain  the  doc- 
trine in  its  most  odious  form. 

He  shows  the  power  of  the  Sode^,  by  telling  of  the  number  of 
its  publications. 

**  The  Society  have  afa-eadv  issned  more  than  one  hundred  millions  of  books 
and  Tracts  —  of  Alleine*s  Alarm,  120,000  copies ;  Baxter's  8aint*s  Beet,  and 
Doddridge's  Rise  and  Progress  of  Religion,  each  100,000;  of  Baxter's  Gall 
to  the  Unconverted,  250,000 ;  and  in  some  dSfbrts  of  late  to  supply  our  lam 
ddes,  10,000  volumes  were  cuculated  in  Boston,  10,000  in  Charleston,  S.  C^ 
17,000  in  Philadelphia  and  vicinity." 

*^  In  Boston  nearly  2,000  gentlemen  circulated  by  vohmtnj  effort  about  10,- 
000  volumes  on  sale,  fbr  which  they  received  $3,500.  In  Hartford  and  New 
Haven,  Conn.,  about  4,000  volumes  each  were  drculated.  In  Providence,  R.  I., 
nearly  10,000  volumes  were  sold ;  in  Troy,  N.  Y.,  7,000  j  in  Philadelphia,  18,- 
000  j  m  Charleston,  S.  C,  10,000,  including  400  sets  of  Uie  Evangelical  Family 
Library,  amounting  to  $3,000 ;  and  in  Savannah  and  Augusta,  Ga.,  nearly  4,000 
volumes  each.  More  than  two  hundred  pious  colporteurs  are  employed  by  the 
Society  in  conveying  these  publications  to  the  homes  of  the  people.''^ 

**  From  small  beginnings  m  1825,  the  Sodeljr's  operations  nave  gradually  in- 
creased, till,  in  the  last  year,  its  receipts  for  books  sold  and  donations,  were 
more  than  $160,000;  more  than  half  a  million  of  books  and  five  millions  of 
Tracts  were  circulated ;  and  267  colporteurs,  including  44  students  fbr  vaca- 
tions, were  in  commission,  in  27  States,  fbr  the  whole  or  part  of  the  year — 
37  of  Uiem  among  Uie  German,  French,  Irish,  and  Norwegian  poi>ulation — ^who 
visited  215,000  f^miiHea,  or  a  twentieth  part  of  our  entire  popmation.** 


1849.]  Skni  Beviews  and  Nbtiees.  895 

Sorely  snch  a  sodetj  most  be  dangerous  to  tbe  welfare  of  the 
great  mass  of  aneducated  persons  who  read  its  works. 

The  Society  thus  states  the  agreement  of  all  '^  the  great  familj 
of  the  redeemed  " : 

^  There  is  ft  happj  agreement  among  all  eTangelical  Christians  regarding  the 
fundamental  tmths  of  the  Bible.  However  they  maj  differ  as  to  philosophy 
and  religions  order  and  ordinances,  the  doctrines  of  *  Man's  native  sinfulness: 
the  parity  and  oblig^ation  of  the  law  of  God ;  the  tme  and  proper  divinity  of 
oar  ix>rd  Jesns  Chnst;  the  necessity  and  reality  of  his  atonement  and  sacri- 
fice ;  the  efficiency  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  work  of  renovation ;  the  free  and 
fhll  offers  of  the  Oospel,  and  the  doty  of  man  to  accept  it;  the  necessity  of 
personal  holiness :  and  an  everlastinff  state  of  rewards  and  ponisbments  beyond 
ttie  grave,'  and  related  troths,  are  toved  alike  by  the  great  fiunily  of  the  re- 
deemed, of  every  name  and  nation." 

The  author  complains  of  the  character  of  the  works  published 
by  the  Society ;  descriptions  of  torment,  and  images  of  pain  '*  have 
been  multiplied  and  combined,  as  it  were,  in  an  infernal  kaleide* 
scope,  so  as  to  present  images  of  variegated,  picturesque,  and  tran- 
scendent horror."  The  publication,  on  so  large  a  scale,  of  books 
like  "« Baxter's  Sunt's  Rest,**  <<AlIeine's  Akrm,"  and  the  like, 
must  be  regarded  as  a  national  calamity.  We  could  wish  that  such 
large  resources,  and  such  exemplary  ^ill  in  their  management  as 
belong  to  this  society,  were  devoted  to  a  better  purpose. 


13. —  Human  life:  illustrated  in  my  Individual  Experience  as 
a  Child,  a  Touth,  and  a  Man.  By  Hbnrt  Clarke  Wright. 
12mo.    pp.  414.    Boston:  Bela  Marsh,  25  ComhilL     1849. 

This  book  is  the  work  of  a  true  and  earnest  man,  who  has  a 
dear  idea  of  the  purpose  for  which  he  was  placed  in  this  world, 
and  who  has  devoted  himself  heartily  to  its  accomplbhment 
Engaged  in  agricultural  and  mechanical  labor,  with  scarcely  any 
opportunities  for  book-learning,  until  the  age  of  twenty,  he  then 
began  a  course  of  education  for  the  Orthodox  ministry.  On  en* 
tering  the  Theological  Seminary  at  Andover,  he  determined  to 
take  nothing  for  granted  as  true  or  false,  right  or  wrong,  but  to 
doubt  on  all  subjects,  rejecting  every  thing  which  he  should  find 
to  rest  solely  on  authority,  or  to  which  he  could  find  a  reasonable 
and  unanswerable  objection.  Guided  by  this  principle,  he  entered 
npon  a  course  of  assiduous  and  indefatigable  study,  and  soon 
found  himself  driven  to  conclusions  widely  difi^erent,  not  only  from 
Andover  theology,  but  from  the  popular  opinions  in  business,  lit- 
erature, and  politics,  religion,  and  morality.    He  seems  ever  since 


896  Short  Beviews  and  Nbtieei.  [June. 

to  hare  continued  faithful  to  this  idea.  His  motto  is  ^Institations 
for  men,  not  men  for  Institutions."  He  regards  beneficence  to 
men  as  the  true  service  or  worship  of  God,  and  sets  at  nought  all 
customs,  laws,  constitutions,  and  scriptures  which  examination 
shows  to  be  at  variance  with  the  rights  or  the  welfare  of  man- 
kind. 

The  book  is  intensely  interesting,  Icnt  the  same  reasons  which 
make  the  lives  of  Silvio  Pellioo  imd  of  Blanco  White  interest- 
ing ;  jet  this  man  is  very  different  from  them,  and  his  book  ftota 
their  books.  His  style  is  direct  and  energetic,  yet  at  the  same 
time  prolix  and  repetitious.  He  seeks  to  know  God  and  man, 
^inks  from  no  investigation  and  from  no  coodosion,  and  makes 
the  freest  use  of  all  materials,  himself  included,  in  attaining  thitf 
knowledge.    A  year  hence,  he  promises  a  second  volume. 


14.  —  TSvo  Sermons  of  the  MotcU  and  Spkiitud  Qmditum  of 
Boston.  By  Theopobb  Fabker,  &c,  &c.,  &c.  Boston.  1849. 
12fflo.    pp.  74. 

Ix  the  first  sermon  the  author  considers,  1.  the  actual  state  of 
morals  in  Boston  as  indicated  by  trade  and  the  press,  by  pover^, 
intemperance  and  crime.  2.  he  compares  the  morals  of  the  pres- 
ent with  former  ages,  and  3.  inquires  what  can  be  done  to  im- 
prove the  morals  of  the  city.  In  the  second  sermon  he  finds  that 
Keligion  is  in  a  low  condition  in  Boston,  but  in  a  better  state 
than  ever  before.  He  cites  examples  to  prove  that  the  present 
complaint  of  the  **  decKne  of  Piety  **  is  not  new,  but  began  as 
early  as  1636,  and  has  been  regularly  continued  till  the  present 
time.  We  give  below  an  extract  fh>m  a  sermon  of  Dr.  In- 
crease Mather  to  the  same  purpose: 

"  I  know  there  is  a  blessed  day  to  the  visible  dmrch  not  Itf  off;  but  it  it  the 
judgment  of  very  learned  men,  that  in  the  glorions  times  promised  to  the 
chitfch  on  Earth  America  will  be  bbll.  And  altbo'  Aere  is  a  number  c^  the 
Elect  of  God  to  be  bom  here,  I  am  verily  afraid  that,  in  process  of  time  New 
Endand  will  be  the  wofallest  place  in  all  America,  as  some  other  parts  of  the 
worid,  once  famous  for  relieion  are  now  the  dolefallest  on  earth,  perfect  pictmes 
and  emblems  of  HM.  When  we  see  this  little  Academj  (Harvard  college, 
for  Dr.  Increase  Mather  was  President  thereof,  and  ^reachine  in  the  college 
chapel,)  fallen  to  the  groand,  .  .  .  then  know  it  is  a  ten3>le  thing  whidi 
God  is  abont  to  bring  npon  this  land." 


NEW  PUBLICATIONS  RECEIYBD. 

Two  Disconnes:  the  Kngdom  of  the  Troth;  Ae  Range  of  Chrutiaiiitj,  by 
A.  J.  Scott,  M.  A.    Lonaon.    1848.    8vo.    pp.48. 

Letters  on  the  Derelopment  of  Religions  Life  in  fhe  modem  Ohristioa 
Omrch  (to  be  completed  hi  six  monthlr  parts,)  by  Henry  8oUy.  Part  L 
leather  &  Manser.  jPartll.  Zwingle  &  Calvin.  Lcmdon.  1849.  12mo.  ppi 
u.  and  98. 

A  Letter  to  tiie  President  of  Harrard  College,  by  a  Member  of  the  Corpo- 
ration.   Boston.    1849.    8to.    pp.  54. 

A  Flea  for  Harrard ;  showing  mat  **  the  Universitjr  at  Cambridge**  waa  not 
the  name  established  for  this  Seminary  by  the  Constitution  of  Musaehaeetti, 
bat  the  name  aathorixed  by  that  instrament  was  **  Harrard  UnlTersity,^  by  an 
Alamnus.    Boston.    1849.    8vo.  pp.  30. 

Requisites  to  our  Country's  Glory.  A  Discourse  delifered  ...  at  the 
Annual  Election,  Wednesday,  January  5th,  1849,  by  John  Pierce,  D.  D.,  Ac., 
&c    Boston.    1849.    8yo.    pp.  68. 

Philosophy  of  Space  and  lime,  by  G.  A.  Hammett,  M.  D.  Newport,  R  L 
1849.    ISmo.    pp.40. 

Unitarianism  and  Congregationalism.  A  Discourse  preached  at  Glouces- 
ter, Biass.,  by  A.  D.  Mayo,  Pastor  of  the  Independent  Christian  Sodety. 
Gloucester.    1849.    8yo.    pp.90. 

The  Claims  of  Seamen.  An  Addreas  delirered  at  the  annual  meethig  of 
the  New  Bedford  Port  Society,  ...  by  Rer.  John  Weiss,  &c.,  &c  Bos- 
ton.   1849.    12mo.    pp.  36. 

A  Review  of  the  Bisnop  of  Oxford's  Counsel  to  the  American  Cleigy,  with 
Reference  to  the  Instimtion  of  Slavery.  Also  Supplemental  Remarks  on  the 
Relation  of  the  Wilmot  Proviso  to  the  interests  of  the  colored  class,  by  Rev. 
Philip  Berry,  &c,  &c    Washinj^n.    1848     13mo.    pp.  26. 

Embryology  of  Nemertes.  With  an  Appendix  on  the  embryologic  develop- 
ment of  Polynoe,  by  Edward  Desor,  Ac,  &c    Boston.    1848.    8vo.    pp.  18. 

Catalogue  of  the  Pictures  ...  of  the  OM  Masters,  with  a  list  of  the 
Enmvings  ...  at  the  gallery  of  Lyceum  Building,  563  Broadway.  9d 
Edition.    l^ewTork.    1849.    8vo.    pp.64. 

The  Law  of  Human  Progress.  An  Oration  delivered  before  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  Society  of  Union  College,  Schenectady,  July  25th,  1848,  by  Charles 
Sumner, &c^ &c    Boston.    1849.    pp.48. 

An  Inquiry  into  the  alleged  tendency  of  the  Separation  of  Convicti  one 
from  the  other,  to  produce  disease  and  derangement,  by  a  Citiaen  of  Philadel- 
phia.   PhUadelphia.    1849.    8va    pp.160. 

Republication  of  Essays  upon  Art,  &C.,  &c   New  York.   1849.  8vo.  pp.  40. 

An  Address  to  the  SnfTolk  North  Association  of  Congregational  AGnisters, 
by  J.  P.  Lesley,  Minister  of  the  First  Evangelical  Church,  Milton,  Mass.  With 
Sermons  on  the  Rule  of  Faith,  the  Inspiration  of  the  Soiptures,  and  the 
Church.    Boston:  Wm.  Crosby  &H. P.  Nichols.    1849.    12mo.    pp.130. 

A  Correct  Apprehension  of  God  essential  to  True  Worship :  or  a  View  of 
the  Trinity  as  it  stands  connected  with  the  whole  Gospel  Scheme,  by  Rev.  J. 
N.  Tarbox,  Ac,  &c    Boston.    1849. 

Pictures  and  Painters ;  Essays  upon  Art;  The  Old  Masters :  and  Modem 
Artists.    New  York.    1849.    13mo. 

Poems.    By  James  ;r.  Fields.    Boston.    1849.    12mo.    pp.  n.  and  100. 

The  Soul,  her  Sorrows  and  her  Aspirations ;  an  Essay  towards  the  natural 
history  of  the  Soul,  as  the  true  basis  of  Theology.  By  Francis  William  New- 
man, &c&c    London.    1849.    13mo.  pp.  zii.  and  222. 


898  New  PubUeattom  Received.  [June. 

The  Journal  of  Fftychokeical  Medidne  and  Mental  Padidlogj.  Edited  tnr 
Forbes  Winslow,  Bl  D.  vol  I.  London.  1848.  8to.  pp.  Ti.  and  662. 
Appended  to  it  is  a  Monograph  I.  On  the  cerebral  diseases  of  children,  widi 
regard  to  their  early  manifestations  and  treatment.  By  Walter  C.  Draly,  Esq. 
IEC.&C    London.    1848.    8yo.    pp.42. 

A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimack  BiTen,  by  Henry  D.  Thorean. 
Boston.    1849.    12mo.    pp.414. 

Ten  Discourses  on  Orthodoxy,  by  Joseph  Henry  Allen,  Pastor  of  the  Uni- 
tarian Church,  Washington,  D.  C.  Boston.    1849.    12mo.    pp.  Tin  and  228. 

Ufsache  and  Geschicnte  der  Octoberereignitie  an  Wien,  Ton  einem  Aogen- 
aengen.    Leipzig.    1849.    8to.    pp.36. 

Ueber  Schw&nnerei  Historisch-philosophische  Betrachtongen  mit  RQcksicht 
anf  die  Jetsige  Zeit  Ton  J.  H.  Ton  Wessenbeiig,  ftc,  &c.  Heilbfonn.  1848. 
8Ta    pp.  Tin.  and  554. 

Hamasa  oder  die  ftltesten  arabischen  Volkslieder,  gesammdt  Ton  Aba  Tern- 
mkn,  fibersetxt  and  eri&atert  yon  Friedrich  Biickert.  Stattgart  1846.  2 
Tols.    8Ta    pp.  428  and  398. 


MASSACHUSETTS  QUARTERLY  REVIEW. 

NO.  VIII.  — SEPTEMBER,  1849. 


Abt.  I.— the  methodology  of  mesmerism. 

Thb  subject  of  Mesmerism,  considered  as  a  literary  phe- 
nomenon of  the  present  day,  was  criticized  from  the  scientific 
or  posiUve  point  of  view,  in  the  last  number  of  this  organ.  The 
multitudinous  statements  of  fact  in  the  science,  as  held  by  the 
majonty  or  average  of  its  expositors  and  students,  were  some- 
what summarily  classified  under  several  heads ;  the  so-called 
phenomena,  collected  and  separated  in  those  classes,  were  then 
described  with  as  much  individuality  and  precision  as  such  a 
plan  of  procedure  admitted  of;  and  a  scientific  judgment  was 
pronounced  upon  the  external  evidences  of  those  phenomena, 
certunly  not  without  either  candor  or  care.  The  first  of  our 
classific  headings  distinguished  and  separated  the  great  fact 
of  the  simple  trance  from  the'  alleged  phenomena  of  phreno- 
magnetism,  community  of  sensation  between  the  mesmerised 
person  and  the  operator,  community  of  consciousness,  and 
clearseeing  in  all  its  varieties.  The  trance  was  admitted :  the 
other  things  were,  each  and  all,  refused  admission  into  the 
crystal  sphere  of  positive  science ;  and  that  on  account  of  their 
apparing  not  to  be  eliminated  from  the  chaos  of  averment  and 
opinion  with  any  thins  approaching  to  the  nature  of  inductive 
rigor.  The  higher  mienomena  were  all  relegated  to  another 
day  of  judgment  ana  to  other  judges,  being  undoubtedly  not 
proven  in  weir  present  condition. 

The  ingenuous  reader  would  observe,  however,  that  we  did 
by  no  means  commit  ourselves  against  those  avowed  phenom- 
ena. It  is  impossible  to  prove  them  false  in  the  mass.  The 
evidence  in  their  favor  is  already  so  various,  so  luminous,  at 
tfaou^  also  so  nebulous  and  dim,  as  to  have  left  a  profound 

HO.  vni.  27 


402  The  Methodology  of  Meimeritm.  [Sept. 

impression  of  fheir  essential  traihfnlness  wpon  a  number  of 
well-onltivated  minds  in  Europe  and  America.  Such  an  im- 
pression is  not  by  any  means  a  scientific  conyictiouy  but  it  may 
possibly  be  the  shadow  and  prophecy  of  some  future  demonstra- 
tion. For  our  own  parts,  we  have  no  wish  that  such  things  as 
clearseeing  should  turn  out  to  be  true ;  but  we  shall  not  wonr 
der  if  they  do.  Such  an  event,  indeed,  would  be  a  grand  and 
exhilarating  surprise.  It  would  shake  our  wme  of  thought 
upon  its  lees.  It  would  agitate  our  too  solid  theories  to  their 
little  centres.  It  would  force  us  to  thmk  anew.  lake  all 
good  news  at  all  deserving  of  the  name,  it  would  sound  a 
reveille  in  our  dull  ears ;  and  we  should  perhaps  awake,  not 
only  to  subdue  the  new  facts  to  the  dominion  of  the  intellect, 
but  to  lav  a  lordlier  grasp  upon  the  whole  domiun  of  Kature. 
It  is  at  the  same  time  a  matter  of  indifference  to  us  whether 
the  school  of  Mesmer  ever  do  mankind  so  great  a  service  or 
not ;  for  futurity  is  rich,  and  one  array  of  upstart  and  imperi- 
ous new  facts  will  serve  the  purpose  as  well  as  another. 

Suppose,  however,  for  the  sake  of  scientific  sport,  as  we  have 
said  fdready,  that  those  fond  investigators  are  reidly  destined 
to  triumph  over  the  enormous  difficulties  that  withstand  them. 
Suppose  that  they  shall  make  good  their  four  or  five  appar- 
mtiy  eccentrical  points  of  fact,  at  some  more  or  less  distant 
day.  Let  us  imagine  that  the  statements  which  are  every  day 
reiterated  at  present  by  the  adepts  in  Animal  Magnetism,  in 
the  impatient  hearing  of  cotemporary  science,  are  actually  and 
undeniably  facts;  and  not  a  horrid  imbroglio  of  truth  and 
error,  openmindedness  and  imposture,  courage  and  humbug. 
In  that  case  our  tiieoretical  position  in  Nature  were  somewhat 
erroneous,  and  would  require  to  be  altered  a  littie;  for  it 
should  then  behove  us  to  find  a  new  centre,  from  which  we 
might  see  the  strange  new  facts  to  be  neither  eccentric  nor 
strange,  but  as  harmonious  as  the  Janets,  and  as  homely  as 
our  duly  bread. 

That  which  we  at  present  propose  to  do,  then,  is  to  find  that 
right  centre  within  our  sphere  of  surrounding  facts,  supposed 
to  be  altered  by  the  admission  of  a  whole  constellation  of  veipr 
questionable  new  ones.  It  is  an  imaginary  problem  that  is 
now  proposed  for  solution ;  and  it  is  to  be  solved  for  the  sake 
of  the  intellectual  exercise.  We  are,  in  short,  to  suppose  that 
Mesmerism  is  true  in  all  its  commonly  received  details ;  and 
then  to  explain  it,  we  are  to  weave  an  hypotiiesis  whidi  shall 
include  the  wonderful  statements  of  the  magnetists  in  its  ample 


1849.]  The  Methodohgjf  of  Memerim.  408 

folds.  We  are  to  find  some  principle  or  other  wkieh  conld 
give  coherence  and  nnitj  to  all  the  marvels  which  have  been 
recorded  abont  double  consciousness  and  fiurseeing,  since  it  is 
quite  possible  that  tliey  are  really  matters  of  fact  after  all ! 

The  chief  temptation  to  this  somewhat  illegitimate  enterprise 
is  not,  by  any  means,  the  still  less  lawful  hope  of  being  realty 
beforehand  for  the  wildest  possibilities  of  psycho-physiolo^cal 
science,  nor  yet  is  it  the  love  of  an  opportunihr  for  the  illus- 
tration of  the  laws  of  procedure,  accoraing  to  which  a  metiiod- 
ical  hypothesis  or  truly  scientific  guess  should  be  constructed. 
It  is  undertaken  mainly,  if  not  solely,  for  the  sake  of  allowing 
our  minds  to  disport  themselves  a  little  while  upon  tiie  mmma 
capita  or  topmost  tops  of  solid,  though  sky-piercing  science. 
The  pure,  keen  air  of  these  neutral  regions,  equatorial  in  their 
place  but  polar  in  their  temperature,  will  dissolve  away  the 
grosser  adhesions  of  tiiat  netiier  atmosphere  in  which  we  are 
content  to  toil  at  the  l^uarry  of  concrete  fact ;  and  it  will  brace 
us  for  another  day  of  work.  These  figures  of  speech,  however, 
remind  us  that,  just  because  this  is  a  summer  evening's  foray, 
it  must  not  be  too  much  prolonged ;  for  our  great  Taskmaster 
is  jealous  of  the  idler,  and  he  cannot  tolerate  the  self-oblivious 
sportsman  in  his  forests  or  on  his  highlands.  Let  us,  then, 
prd  ourselves  at  once,  sally  forth  with  footsteps  firm  and  swift, 
and  return  before  the  twilight  has  melted  around  us  into  night. 

It  must  be  remembered  on  the  threshold,  of  course,  that 
there  has  already  been  oflbred  an  hypothesis  in  explanation  of 
file  simple  or  completed  trance ;  a  phenomenon  which  has  been 
accepted  as  undeniable.  That  hypothesis  brought  the  trance 
under  the  same  idea  as  is  numerously  exemplified  by  sun  and 
planet,  oxygen  and  hydrogen,  zinc  and  copper ;  by  the  poles 
of  the  magnet,  the  galvanic  circle,  and  the  electrical  battery ; 
by  unity  and  multiplicity,  and  so  forth.  In  order  to  consist- 
encjr,  therefore,  it  is  necessary  to  carry  the  same  law  into  the 
region  of  those  higher  phenomena  of  Mesmerism,  which  we  are 
now  to  discuss  as  if  they  were  natural  verities.  The  hypothe- 
cs which  we  may  now  invent  for  their  explication  and  clasei- 
fication,  must  consist  either  in  a  proposition  directly  deducible 
from  the  law  of  polarity,  or  in  a  compo^tion  between  that  law 
and  some  other  one ;  else  we  shall  be  guiliy  of  the  solecism  of 
proclaiming  an  imperium  in  imperio^  or  couple  of  Senates,  in 
this  our  imadnary  domain.  The  charitable  reader  must  f\ir- 
thermore  understand,  once  for  all,  that  throughout  these  few 


404  The  M$Aadeiogy  qf  JUumerim.  [Sept. 

pages  we  riiall  contmue  to  treat  of  Nature,  commonlj  80  called, 
from  that  point  of  view  which  is  occupied  by  the  understand- 
bg  or  judgment  according  to  sense.  It  is  not,  indeed,  our 
custom  to  contemplate  the  world  of  sensations  from  that  posi- 
tion; but  the  exoteric  doctrine  concerning  these  wondrous 
shows,  which  is  dictated  bj  the  spirit  of  the  passing  times,  is 
good  enough  for  our  present  purposes.  Gratefully  avulmg 
ourselves  of  the  language  of  the  sensuous  philosophy,  as  being 
both  a  convenient  and  an  admirable  formula,  we  proceed  to 
remind  ourselves  of  a  few  well-known  propositions  in  natural 
science ;  and  that  by  way  of  premises  to  a  subsequent  argu- 
ment. 

I.  Every  phenomenon,  that  is  to  say,  every  change,  that  is 
to  say,  again,  every  movement,  transpiring  in  any  one  part  of 
the  sensible  universe,  is  followed  by  an  unending  series  of  phe- 
nomena in  every  other  part  of  that  universe,  all  proceeding 
from  the  original  mutation.  Nature  is  so  full  as  to  be  incapa- 
ble of  holding  another  particle  more ;  and  all  her  hosts  of  par- 
ticles are  so  compacted  together  that  the  annihilation  of  one  of 
them  would  leave  her  loose.  The  removal  of  a  single  atom 
from  the  world  would  alter  its  centre  of  gravity ;  and  ti^e  shock 
would  be  felt  by  every  separate  part  and  pendicle,  as  well  as 
by  the  whole.  All  things  propagate  their  permutations  to  one 
another.  The  creaking  of  my  table,  the  scratching  of  my  pen, 
the  running  of  my  ink,  the  thrill  of  my  manual  nerves  and 
muscles,  the  vibrations  of  my  brain  in  thinking  this  very 
thought,  are  all  reverberated  from  the  centre  of  the  planet 
Leverrier  beyond  Uranus,  as  well  as  from  the  intimate  recesses 
of  the  bodily  organization  of  Leverrier  the  calculator  at  Paris; 
— if  we  could  only  hear  the  echoes!  The  vault  of  heaven  is 
one  vast  whbpering  gallery ;  but  only  for  other  ears  Uian  ours. 
Enough  for  us  that  we  can  overhear  the  secret  with  the  organ 
of  the  mind ;  and  that  there  is  no  auditory  illusion  in  ihe  case, 
as  there  certainly  is  not.  The  proposition  now  under  consid- 
eration has  never  been  disputed,  at  least  since  it  was  enun- 
ciated aright.  It  has  long  been  one  of  the  catholicons  of  sci- 
ence. It  was  a  favorite  thought  with  Leibmtz.  Babbage,  the 
prince  of  modem  Ishmaelites,  has  expatiated  with  friendly  elo- 
quence upon  this  universal  relationship  and  concord  of  things, 
in  his  ninth  Bridgewater  Treatise,  sarcastically  so  entitled. 
In  fact,  this  law  of  universal  and  unlimited  action  and  reaction 
is  one  of  the  most  stupendous,  although  also  one  of  the  simplest 
of  the  revelations  of  physical  science ;  and  it  is  all  the  morc^ 


1849.]  The  Methodology  of  Me9meri9m.  405 

profoundly  interesting  that  it  is  the  bodily  expression  and  synn 
Dol  of  another  law,  still  more  interior  and  hmnane,  as  well  as 
still  more  penetrative  and  divine. 

n.  The  same  universality  of  sympathy  is  repeated  within 
the  confines  of  the  cerebro-spinal  axis  of  man ;  and,  in  fact,  it 
is  then  and  there  alone  that  it  is  properly  denominated  sympa- 
thy. The  nervous-system  is  a  sort  of  bodily  soul  underlying, 
diffused  through,  and  organific  of  the  grosser  body  of  the  ani- 
mal form.  The  totality  of  the  human  person  or  mask,  from 
the  midpoint  of  the  brain  to  the  cuticular  periphery,  with  all 
its  pores  and  hairs  inclusive,  was  held  in  reverence  by  the 
pious  schoolmen  of  a  bygone  age  as  the  Microcosm,  standing 
over  agidnst  as  well  as  within  the  Macrocosm ;  a  little  world 
within  the  large ;  the  beauty  of  the  universe  in  miniature. 
For  it  was  not  long  till  tlioughtful  men,  once  their  eyes  were 
effectually  opened  on  the  outward  world,  perceived  that  man 
is  an  epitome  and  illuminated  version  of  all  the  powers  of  na- 
ture. The  spiritual-minded  seers  of  a  &r  earlier  epoch  had 
seen  still  deeper,  and  discovered  his  soul  to  be  the  express 
image  of  Goa.  It  is  accordingly  easy  to  understand  the 
doubled  insight  with  which  a  platonizing  divine  like  Henry 
More  observed,  in  the  twilight  of  ancient  philosophy  and  mod- 
em science,  that  the  composite  personality  of  man  is  ^^  a  medall 
of  the  Deitie." 

The  law  of  inevitable  reciprocity  of  movement  is  as  cogent 
among  the  parts  of  the  microcosmical  universe  of  the  human 
frame,  then,  as  it  is  among  the  members  of  the  macrocosm,  that 
hundred-handed  Briareus,  that  ocular  Argus  of  antique  taiAe. 
A  sensation,  or  any  atomico-physiological  movement  ordinarily 
followed  by  a  perceptible  sensation,  in  or  at  one  nerve,  is  una- 
voidably shed  through  every  part  of  the  system.  It  is  a  curir 
ous  and  beautiful,  although  also  a  deducible  circumstance  of 
this  sympathy,  that  each  nerve  receives  the  shock,  origmating 
in  another  one,  in  its  own  intimate  nature,  and  reproduces  or 
reechoes  or  propagates  it  through  its  own  proper  function.  A 
sudden  pang  of  agony  in  the  tongue  is  seen  by  the  eye,  heard 
by  the  ear ;  and  so  forth.  The  things  which  limit  and  obscure 
the  perception  of  such  transmitted  sensations  in  actual  life, 
will  be  considered  under  another  head.  In  the  meantime  it  is 
to  be  particularly  noticed  that,  apart  from  those  circumstances 
of  limitation  in  the  concrete  animal  frame,  every  single  portion 
of  the  nervous-system  must  suffer  the  influence,  or  rather  the 
effluence,  circumambient  from  an  ori^nal  movement  in  any 


409  The  JtMuOologsf  ^  Memermn.  [Sept 

other  portion,  to  pass  on  in  tiie  endless  jonmey  through  the 
pathway  of  its  least  contingent  and  most  indimoal  property* 
It  is  the  same  throughout  the  whole  of  Nature.  A  phenomenon 
originated  anywhere  is  carried  round  the  universe  by  a  mineral 
through  its  cohesion,  b^  a  plant  through  its  irritability,  by  an 
animal  through  its  sensibility,  by  a  muscle  through  its  specific 
contractivity,  by  a  common  nerve  through  its  sensitive  or  vd- 
untative  quality,  by  an  optic  nerve  through  its  capacity  for 
mght ;  and  so  forth.  An  optic  nerve,  indeed,  when  subjected 
to  the  action  of  fire  or  caustic,  is  chenucally  decomposed ;  but 
it  is  by  no  means  as  an  optic  nerve  that  it  is  so  aflfected ;  it  \& 
simply  as  a  ^ven  chemical  compound  of  such  and  such  ele* 
ments  that  it  is  burned.  So  long  as  it  is  an  optic  nerve,  prop- 
eriy  so  called,  and  to  the  extent  in  which  it  is  an  optic  nerve 
and  no  other  tertium-quid  in  existence,  it  only  sees  fire,  or  else 
flashes  fire,  in  such  circumstances.  It  follows  therefore,  from 
all  these  considerations,  that  if  there  were  two  mouths,  for  ex- 
ample, in  one  organism,  every  taste  perceived  at  one  of  Uiem 
would  be  handed  over  as  such  to  the  other ;  always  supposing 
for  the  present  that  there  were  nothing  to  set  bounds  to  the 
practical  working  of  the  law  of  sympathetic  sensation.  There 
IS  a  very  significant  thing  connected  with  this  phantastical 
conception  of  a  man  with  two  mouths,  deserving  to  be  indicated 
and  remembered  with  more  than  ordinary  care.  The  half-writ- 
ten page  is  before  my  eye ;  pulses  of  white  light  rush  from  all 
its  sur&ce,  except  where  the  black  ink  has  fallen,  to  the  outside 
of  my  retina ;  -an  image  of  the  manuscript  is  pamted  on  tiiat 
expanded  sheet  of  nerve ;  and  the  writing  is  seen,  we  know  not 
how.  All  that  can  be  said  in  the  matter,  accor(ting  to  the 
methodology  of  after-thought,  is  this ;  that  such  an  image  on 
the  retina  of  a  healthy  eye  is  invariably  followed  by  the  per- 
ception of  the  thing  that  is  imaged.  But  since  the  optic  nerve 
and  thalamus,  since  the  brain  are  essential  to  a  healthy  eye, 
it  is  perhaps  not  easy  to  resist  the  supposition  that  the  image 
of  the  retina  is  propagated  inwards  to  somewhere  that  it  meets 
the  mind !  Hence  the  Hartieian  theory  of  sensation,  so  long 
dierished,  with  some  modifications,  by  the  Scotch  psycholo- 
gists ;  and  hence  also  the  Helvetian  and  other  forms  of  mate- 
rialism, which  the  doctrine  of  HarUey  degenerated  into  as  soon 
as  the  scientific  public  would  suffer  the  play  of  Hamlet  to  be 
performed  before  them  without  the  Prince !  For  our  own  part, 
we  are  clearly  of  opinion  that,  if  the  matter  is  to  be  considered 
firom  this  external  point  of  view  at  all,  the  Hartieian  fiMrmula 


1849.]  ^e  M^hodohgy  of  Memerim.  40t 

18  very  good  so  long  as  it  is  confined  to  sensations  and  remem- 
bered sensations,  inclading  ot  course  whatever  sensational  man- 
ifestations maj  accompany  pnre  emotions  and  ideas.  The 
word  Vibration,  however,  must  always  be  understood  to  be  no 
more  than  an  algebraic  sign.  Upon  these  conditions  and  from 
this  point  of  view,  it  is  not  only  allowable  but  correct  to  assert 
that  the  perception  of  any  object  over  ag^dnst  the  eye  is  pro- 
duced, in  so  far  as  the  physical  mechanism  of  the  process  is 
concerned,  by  a  neurological  movement  begun  at  the  external 
surface  of  the  retina  and  propagated  from  without  inwards. 
When  on  the  other  hand  I  remember,  or  conceive  of  the  paper 
I  have  scribbled  over  with  my  pen,  the  neurological  movement 
essential  to  the  conception  of  the  writing  is  not  begun  at  the 
outside  of  the  retina  but  somewhere  else,  no  matter  where ;  and 
it  is  propagated  from  ^rithin  outwards.  The  written  page  of 
memory  is  the  reverse  of  that  of  perception ;  that  is,  in  this 
physiological  respect.  It  is  more  fiunt,  sensuously  speaking, 
than  that  which  is  under  the  very  eye.  In  fever  and  praeter* 
natural  activity  or  insanity  of  the  organ,  the  feeble  image  prop- 
agated from  within  outwards  in  the  act  of  memory  becomes  so 
forcible  as  to  simulate  the  nature  of  an  immediate  image ;  and 
there  is  developed  the  phenomenon  of  sensuous  illusion.  With 
these  subjects,  howevet,  we  have  nothing  to  do  at  present^ 
except  in  so  far  as  the  followmg  queer  consideration  is  con- 
cerned. If  the  indulgent  reader  will  bring  our  two-headed 
monster  before  his  mind's  eye  again,  he  will  at  once  observe 
that  the  atomico-physiological  movement  (corresponding  with 
the  taste  of  anything)  begun  at  one  of  its  mouths,  and  propa- 
gated from  without  inwards,  will  be  carried  from  within  out-' 
lirards  to  the  other.  It  will  reach  the  secondary  palate  like  the 
memory  of  a  taste,  shadowy  and  ghost-like ;  always  supposing 
that  palate  not  to  be  so  morbidly  sensitive  as  to  convert  the 
remembrance  of  a  sensation  into  a  palatal  illusion. 

III.  The  individuality  of  man,  as  an  animal  shape,  is  pro- 
duced and  sustained  by  those  Qverflowing  currents  of  sensation 
of  which  he  is  the  subject.  He  is  isolated  from  and  within  that 
world  of  external  appearances,  of  which  he  is  the  centre  ac- 
cording to  the  truth  of  appearance  if  not  according  to  the  truth 
of  reality,  by  sensation.  But  it  is  not  by  the  sensations  pro^ 
duced  in  him  by  stars,  or  sea  and  land,  or  heat  and  cold,  or 
flowers  and  fragrance,  or  the  persons  of  friends  and  lovers. 
Were  there  no  other  sensations  than  these,  he  could  not  dis- 
criminate them  from  his  animal  self.    They  would  all  be  parts 


408  The  MdhodaHogy  of  Mkmeriim.  [Sept 

<^  him,  and  the  whole  of  Nature  were  his  body,  on  that  suppo- 
ffltion.  It  is  by  his  sensation  of  himself,  by  his  sensation  of  his 
sensations,  that  he  is  sculptured  out  from  the  rest  of  Nature, 
and  walks  abroad  as  the  paragon  of  animals.  Perceptio  est 
sensatio  sensationis. 

lY.  Not  all  sensations  are  perceived.  It  is  more  exact  to 
say  that  not  all  atomico-physiological  causes  or  usual  antece- 
dents of  perceptible  sensation  are  actually  felt  as  sensations, 
that  is,  perceived.  One  sensation,  so  to  speak,  neutralizes 
another :  one  is  homoeopathic  to  another:  concurring  sensations 
are  obliterative  of  one  another.  Then  the  perceiving  mind  can 
]bend  its  attention  in  only  one  direction  at  one  and  the  same 
time.  Archimedes  absorbed  in  the  contemplation  of  a  problem 
is  deaf  to  the  clamors  of  a  successful  siege,  blind  to  his  Syra- 
cuse in  flames ;  and  he  might  have  died  under  the  sword  of  the 
soldier,  who  surprised  him  in  his  study,  without  a  pang.  It  is 
on  these  two  accounts  that  sensation  is  limited  in  fact,  and  man 
is  physiologically  finite. 

y .  The  last  observation  is  vastiy  enhanced  in  its  importance 
when  it  is  considered  that  it  is  not  only  a  legitimate,  but  an 
unavoidable  corollary  from  the  first  two  of  these  prepositional 
paragraphs ;  that  the  whole  Universe  of  unreposing  external 
phenomena  is  potentially,  though  not  actually,  seen  by  every 
optic,  heard  by  every  auditory,  felt  by  every  tactual  nerve  of 
beast  or  man.  This  curious  proposition  does,  we  say,  coroUate 
or  nuse  its  head  like  a  flower  from  the  doctrine  of  universal 
ff^mpathy  or  reaction  aforesaid.  It  follows  from  that  twofold 
doctrine  that  a  multitudinous  and  restless  image  of  the  whole 
domsdn  of  Nature  is  continually  painting  itself  on  the  cerebro- 
spinal axis  of  a  man ;  for  the  whole  of  Nature  is  phenomenal 
in  all  her  parts.  There  is  no  death  in  Nature.  She  is  a  per- 
petual pulse,  an  ever-rolling  stream,  an  unslumbering  growth, 
an  everlasting  motion.  The  sleepless  Proteus  is  driving  his 
innumerable  flock  before  him  for  ever. 

It  is  hence  that,  but  for  the  limiting  circumstances  and  the 
Umitation  described  in  the  premise  before  this  one,  all  the  uni- 
verse would  have  been  literally  present  to  the  soul  in  every 
human  frame  ;  and  man  would  have  been  an  omnipresent  God. 
As  it  is,  this  constant  reproduction  of  all  the  phenomena  of 
existence  within  the  organism  of  man,  in  an  imperceptible  but 
actual  way,  is  '  an  effect  defective ; '  and  we  have  seen  how 
it  *  comes  by  cause,'  to  borrow  the  half  wise  phraseology  of 
Polonius.    Havmg  already  explsdned  how  the  law  of  polarity 


1«49.]  The  Methodohgy  of  Memerxm.  409 

16  expressed  bj  each  part  of  the  creation  throagk  means  of  its 
least  contingent  and  most  individual,  in  one  word  its  differen- 
tiating quality ;  *  and  having  now  sent  forward  these  five  prem- 
ises, it  only  remains  that  our  hypothesis  itself  be  suffered  to 
come  upon  the  scene.  For  the  sake  of  clearness,  and  also  for 
the  securing  of  that  brevity  which  is  suitable  to  unproductive 
exercitation  whether  of  the  body  or  the  mind,  let  it  appear  in 
the  form  of  a  succession  of  short  parts  or  acts,  like  other  come- 
dies. The  first  of  these  parts,  indeed,  has  been  brought  before 
the  reader  already ;  and  that  in  the  shape  of  serious  scientific 
proposition.  Purified  and  condensed,  it  will  serve  for  the  pro- 
tasis of  the  present  play. 

I.  That  kind  of  sleep,  or  trance,  which  is  commonly  called 
mesmeric,  although  it  is  so  ancient  as  to  have  been  graphically 
represented  by  the  priestly  sculptors  of  old  Egypt,  is  neither 
more  nor  less  than  the  negative  polarity  of  the  nervous-system 
of  a  patient  to  that  of  the  operator  under  whose  influence  he 
may  have  fallen.  It  is  a  phenomenon  in  cougruity  with  the 
idea,  the  law,  the  universal  rule  of  the  polar  induction  of  oppo- 
site states  by  induction,  by  catalysis,  by  specific  neighbourhood. 
The  patient  is  negative,  the  planet,  the  woman,  the  left  side,  in 
this  neurogamia  or  marriage  of  two  nervous-systems :  the 
operator  is  the  positive  pole,  the  sun,  the  man,  the  right  side. 
This  idea  of  polarity  is  to  be  extended,  in  all  the  different 
kmds,  to  the  sensitive,  the  voluntative,  the  cogitative,  and  the 
sympathetic  nervous  elements  of  the  cerebrospinal  axis.  It  is 
never  in  reality  total,  however,  else  respiration,  for  example, 
being  sustained  by  the  specific  sensibility  of  the  respiratory 
tract  of  the  spind  chord,  would  cease ;  and,  in  truth,  mortal 
syncope  would  ensue.  The  neighbourhood  of  two  axes,  but  that 
in  circumstances  of  as  complete  exclusion  as  possible  of  all  the 
causes  of  undivided  sensation  and  intellectual  life  on  the  part 
of  the  intended  victim,  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  the  induction 
of  this  mutual  relation.  Hence  the  Egyptians  have  recourse 
to  odorous  gums,  and  the  Rosicrucians  to  various  incenses ;  and 
hence,  also,  the  still,  twilighted,  temperate  apartment  of  the 
modem  mesmerist,  not  to  forget  his  multifarious  manipulations. 
In  the  state  of  true  and  total  trance  the  individuality  of  the 
patient  is  more  completely  gone  than  even  in  the  depths  of 
common  sleep.     You  may  cut  him  to  pieces :   he  feels  not, 


•  See  No.  YII,  for  Jane,  1849,  pp.  299  et  seq. 


410  The  Methodology  of  Mesmeriim.  [Sept. 

and  that  in  neither  of  the  senses  of  the  verb  ;  he  thinks  not ; 
and  he  wills  not.    He  is  turned  to  stone. 

II.  But  sometimes,  according  to  the  canonical  scriptures  of 
Mesmerism,  there  comes  a  change  over  the  enchanted  one ; 
instantaneously,  or  in  a  few  seconds,  or  in  a  few  minutes.  The 
dead  individuality  is  partially  requickened ;  the  sleeper  rises, 
half  awake ;  the  stony  image,  lying  heavy  on  the  chair,  sits 
suddenly  up,  a  semi-animated  statue.  The  fulness  of  life  has 
not  yet  returned,  however.  It  is  still  and  also  beautiful  as  an 
oracle.  It  is  life  in  death,  not  death  in  life.  It  remsuns  upon 
the  tripod ;  and  that  in  such  a  quesUonable  shape,  that  you 
will  speak  to  it !  It  hears  what  you  say,  although  it  does  not 
listen  like  any  thing  earthly,  and  it  answers  you  like  one  in- 
spired. In  one  word,  it  is  a  sibyl,  a  clear^eer,  a  clairvoyante, 
a  far-seer,  a  second-seer,  or  what  you  will :  the  numerous  de- 
scriptions of  which,  in  contemporary  books,  certainly  constitute 
one  of  the  oddest  and  most  significant  of  literary  phenomena. 

Now  it  is  to  be  supposed  that,  in  the  somewhat  complete 
neurogamia  of  the  perfect  trance,  every  atomico-physiological 
movement  transpiring  within  the  nervous  circumference  of  the 
operator  is  shed  into  that  of  the  patient.  The  pair  is  a  dual 
unity,  possessed  of  two  mouths,  four  eyes,  four  ears,  and  so 
on.  But  it  is  to  no  purpose ;  for  there  is  no  consciousness  of 
the  community  within  the  sleeper ;  and,  even  if  there  were, 
there  is  no  means  of  its  communication.  It  is  only  a  potential 
community  so  long  as  the  enchantment  is  total.  Let  us  imag- 
ine, however,  that  the  victim  is  partially  disenthralled ;  and 
only  partially.  Suppose  that  his  cerebro-spinal  axis  is  disen- 
chanted to  such  a  degree,  and  no  more,  that  the  mere  percep- 
tivity of  atomico-physiological  movements  within  its  round  is 
reawakened ;  and  also  that  the  sense  of  hearing  is  opened,  and 
the  organ  of  voluntary  speech  set  free.  In  such  supposititious 
circumstances  it  appears  that,  the  perception  of  all  limitative 
sensation  except  that  of  hearing  having  been  cut  off,  the  neu- 
ro-negative  is  thrown  into  a  state  of  modified  or  partial  neurc- 
gamia  with  the  positive.  It  is  a  state  continually  lapsing  back 
into  the  completed  trance  —  for  the  ear  is  unclosed  only  when 
solicited  by  the  direct  addresses  of  the  positive  voice,  and  is 
constantly  falling  shut  again  —  according  to  the  best  descrip- 
tions which  we  have  read.  To  be  brief,  the  phenomena  dis- 
played by  this  half-liberated  pair  may  be  classified  under  direo 
subdivisions. 


1849.]  The  Methodohgy  of  Mesmerism.  411 

1.  The  sensations  of  fhe  operator  are  .kansmitted  to  the 
patient ;  but  they  are  transmitted  in  an  inverted  manner,  so 
as  to  be  precisely  of  ttio  nature  of  remembered  sensations  or 
of  simple  conceptions.  Owing  to  nothing  positive  in  the  par 
tient,  bat  to  the  absence  of  interfering  sensations  of  every 
kind ;  owing  to  the  stillness  that  reigns  throughout  his  frame^ 
these  transmitted  and  descending  echoes  of  sensation  are  so 
vivid  as  to  be  a  sort  of  sensuous  Ulusion.  It  is  two  mouths  in 
one  body.  One  tastes  what  the  other  tastes ;  but  in  the  for^ 
mer  the  physiological  movement  is  from  within  outwards,  as 
has  been  expltdned  in  one  of  the  premises  of  the  present  hy- 
pothesis. 

2.  The  remembrances,  the  conceptions,  the  emotions,  the 
consciousnesses  of  tiie  positive  member  of  this  strange  pair  of 
wedded  cerebro-spinal  axes,  (in  so  far  as  those  phenomena  do 
commove  the  nervous  fibre)  are  carried  over  in  an  exactly 
similar  manner  to  the  negative  one :  but  they  reach  him  m 
sensadons,  and  that  for  the  reverse  of  the  reason  why  the 
sensations  of  the  operator  arrive  at  the  patient  in  the  shape  of 
dim  sensuous  illusions.  It  is  a  kind  of  doubled  consciousness. 
The  operator  bethinks  him  of  an  absent  friend,  and  the  welt 
remembered  image  stands  before  the  eye  of  the  patient :  the 
former  recalls  a  distant  scene,  and  the  latter  is  transported 
thither,  like  another  Fortunatus :  and  so  forth  without  end. 

8.  That  multitudinous  imago  of  the  universe,  which  is  always 
bemg  painted  on  the  nervous-system  of  the  Mesmerizer  as 
well  as  on  that  of  every  human  being,  though  illegible  by  him- 
self on  account  of  his  limitation  by  the  inpouring  and  outpour^ 
ing  tides  of  nearer  sensation,  is  shed  over  to  the  Mesmerized ; 
who  sits  undisturbed,  except  by  the  temporary  sound  of  the 
operator's  questions.  At  the  bidding  of  the  enchanter  the 
spellbound  subject  looks  through  the  world  for  the  friend^ 
whose  unage  the  thought  of  him  revives,  and  finds  him.  Once 
discovered,  it  is  easy  to  read  what  he  is  dmng.  This  is  our 
hypothesis  of  the  mystery  of  clearseeing ;  and  there  is  no 
need  of  expatiating  upon  it.  In  these  pages,  it  is  intended  to 
be  no  more  than  a  hint.  Nor  do  we  wish  to  attach  any  sub- 
stantial value  to  the  conjecture,  except  as  an  exercise  of  the 
mind.  There  are  also  certun  physical,  or  hyperphysical  prin- 
ciples mvolved  in  the  fantastical  fabric  we  are  weaving,  which 
lose  none  of  their  importance  <m  account  of  the  dubious  inves- 
titure in  which  they  are  now  presented  to  the  reader's  eye« 
As  for  the  Sleeping  Beauty  of  the  Wood,  for  whom  we  have 


412  The  Methodology  of  MumerUm.  [Sept 

just  been  devising  an  imaginary  scheme  of  deliverance,  she  is 
more  than  welcome  to  another  century  of  repose. 

III.  It  will  be  remembered,  by  such  as  have  read  our  for- 
mer article  on  this  subject,  that  some  Mesmerists  deny  the 
phenomena  of  phreno-magnetism,  as  it  has  been  illiterately 
called ;  and  attribute  the  appearances  which  gave  rise  to  the 
supposition  of  their  existence,  to  the  inclusive  phenomenon  of 
double  consciousness,  which  has  been  discussed  above.  If  one 
might  trust,  not  the  moral,  but  the  intellectual  veracity  of  pub- 
lished accounts,  there  would  seem  to  be  two  kinds  of  cases. 
One  of  these  might  be  characterized  as  connected  with  phrenol- 
ogy ;  the  other  only  with  the  mesmeric  double-consciousness. 
In  the  former  the  response  is  immediate ;  in  the  latter,  some 
little  time  elapses  between  the  call  and  the  answer.  In  ihe 
former  the  reply  is  vivid ;  in  the  latter  it  is  faint.  Nor  were 
it  improbable  that  a  mixed  condition  should  occur.  But  it  is 
with  the  phrenological  instances  alone  that  we  have  any  thmg 
to  do  under  this  part  of  the  subject,  since  community  of  con- 
sciousness has  already  been  disposed  of.  Nor  is  it  difficult  to 
suppose  that  the  touch  or  approximation  of  the  operator's  finger 
shall  depolarize  and  liberate  the  cerebral  organ  touched  or 
approached.  Awaked  by  itself,  alone,  the  particular  organ 
rushes  into  a  fury  of  activity ;  for  it  is  by  the  balance  of  all 
these  organs  that  we  are  kept  in  equipoise.  The  whole  force 
of  the  spirit  pours  through  the  opened  floodgate.  It  is  like 
monomania,  or  the  rapture  of  the  siunt,  the  poet,  the  sage, 
when  the  object  of  contemplation  is  not  the  universe,  but  some- 
thing less.  It  is  like  every  thing  we  do,  in  fine ;  partial,  ex- 
clusive, and  in  excess. 

There  only  remains  the  application  of  our  quaint  hypothecs 
to  the  case  of  the  natural  or  spontaneous  somnambulist.  Be- 
ing by  no  means  prepared  for  an  elaborate  discussion  of  all 
the  ambages  of  this  mysterious  subject,  nor  yet  willing  to  enter 
more  fully  into  it  with  the  preparation  which  we  have,  we  refer 
the  reader  to  the  suggestion  thrown  out  already  concerning 
Braid's  hypnotic  patients,  as  probably  enough  containing  the 
clew  to  this  part  of  the  labyrinth,  m^y  not  the  halves  of  the 
cerebrospinal  axis  in  one  individual  become  polar  to  one 
another,  when  the  propitious  circumstances  are  provided,  say 
by  fatigue  or  narcotics  ?  Since  two  equal  and  similar  things, 
fallen  into  the  mutual  relation  of  polarity,  cannot  become  one 
solar  and  the  other  planetary,  inasmuch  as  neither  of  them  is 


1849.]  The  Methodology  of  Mesmerism.  418 

the  greater  or  the  less ;  and  since  the  idea  of  a  daal  unit,  the 
coefficients  of  which  are  both  solar,  is  impossible ;  it  follows 
that  thej  become  both  planetary,  revolving  round  one  another 
like  double  suns,  that  is  to  say,  both  negative ;  that  is  to  saj, 
again,  both  non-sensitive,  both  non-voluntative,  both  non-cogi- 
tative ;  that  is  to  saj,  again,  both  asleep.  Is  this  the  true 
theory  of  sleep  ?  Since  one  hemisphere  of  the  cerebral  mass 
is  often  larger  than  the  other,  may  it  not  in  that  degree  and 
in  such  cases  be  neuro-positive ;  and  does  not  such  a  supposi- 
tion render  the  Joseph,  or  habitual  dreamer,  intelligible  r  In 
conclusion,  may  not  the  partial  disentrancement  of  only  one  of 
the  hemispheres,  in  one  who  sleeps,  produce  sleepwalking  and 
its  extraordinary  concomitants,  such  as  prevision  and  clear- 
sight  ?  At  all  events,  it  is  certainly  not  so  difficult  to  reduce 
the  fact  of  spontaneous  somnambulism  under  our  gratuitous 
hypothesis  as  it  seems  at  first  sight. 

One  word  more,  and  we  have  done.  It  is  to  be  feared  that 
some  readers,  and  more  especially  such  as  are  very  favorable 
to  the  claims  of  Mesmerism,  will  be  of  opinion  that  this  hypoth- 
esis has  been  brought  forward  with  unbecoming  levity.  It 
will  perhaps  be  supposed  that  we  do  really  believe  in  the 
higher  phenomena  just  as  decidedly  as  we  have  professed  to 
do  in  the  trance,  but  that  we  are  ashamed  or  afraid  to  avow 
the  fact.  The  real  truth  of  the  matter  is  neither  far  to  seek 
nor  ill  to  tell.  The  whole  subject  of  Mesmerism  was  thrust  on 
our  attention  early  in  life.  We  witnessed  experiments  of 
every  sort,  and  we  were  too  easily  satisfied  with  their  results. 
Then  came  the  intellectual  necessity  of  understanding  and  ex- 
plaining such  amazing  phenomena ;  that  is  to  say,  of  coordi- 
nating and  coadunating  them  with  the  uncompleted  sphere  of 
science.  A  little  band  of  fellow-students  looked  to  us  for  such 
a  service ;  and  the  hypothesis,  which  has  been  outlined  above, 
was  the  product  of  our  eager  meditations.  Having  seen  rea- 
son, however,  to  question  the  methodological  validity  of  mes- 
meric evidence,  our  poor  hypothesis  is  now  advanced  as  noth- 
ing more  than  a  playful  exercitation  of  the  intellect,  in  so  far 
as  all  the  more  dubious  findings  of  mesmeric  research  are  con- 
cerned. Whatever  may  be  its  intrinsic  worth  or  worthlessness 
as  a  piece  of  speculative  thought,  its  value  as  a  contribution  to 
science  is  exactly  equal  to  zero ;  and  we  do  not  entertain  the 
very  faintest  hope,  wish,  or  expectation  concerning  its  future 
fortunes  in  the  world. 

The  earth  hath  babbles  as  the  water  hath, 
And  thb  is  of  them  I 


414  The  Poetry  qf  Keats.  [Sept 


abt.  n.— the  poetry  of  KEATS. 

Wb  shall  not  be  accused  of  courting  popular  approbation  in 
the  selection  of  a  subject  for  the  following  essay.  The  English 
poet,  whose  name  is  written  above,  is  with  few  exceptions 
the  least  known  among  us.  True,  he  has  admirers  among  the 
lovers  of  genuine  poetry.  But  the  great  verse-devouring  pub- 
lic cannot  stop  to  analyze  and  appreciate  the  beauties  of  wnters 
like  him,  like  Tennyson,  Milnes,  and  Browning.  Therefore 
Mrs.  Norton,  Eliza  Cook,  Mrs.  Ellis,  and  Barry  Cornwall  are 
the  names  by  which  modem  English  poetry  is  commonly  rep- 
resented among  us.  There  are  exceptions  to  these  remarks. 
Tennyson  has  long  been  before  the  public,  in  a  readable  form, 
and  is  at  last  coming  into  notice  since  it  has  become  fashiona- 
ble to  read  "  The  Princess."  Keats  has  but  lately  appeared 
in  a  manner  worthy  his  merits.  One  only  of  Milnes'  charming 
volumes  has  strayed  among  us,  but  its  modest  presence  was 
forgotten  amid  the  flourish  of  trumpets  that  announced  the 
"  New  Timon."  Brownmg  and  Home,  the  authors  of  **^Pa^ 
acelsus,"  "  Sordelles,"  "  Bells  and  Pomegranates,"  and  "  Ori- 
on," are  vet  to  come.  Perhaps  we  ought  not  to  complain  of 
this.  It  IS  easier  to  read  songs  than  study  epics.  The  jing- 
ling bells  of  rhyme  sound  pleasantly  enough  to  ears  not  attuned 
to  the  sphere-bom  melody  of  the  tme  singer.  But  we  may 
certidnly  be  excused  in  our  attempt  to  write  a  few  imperfect 
words  on  Keats,  a  poet  differing  widely  in  several  ways  from 
all  other  living  English  or  American  writers. 

This  peculiarity  is  the  reproduction  of  the  beautiful  in  na- 
ture and  sensuous  life,  with  a  corresponding  beauty  of  form. 
Poets  of  this  class  have  little  of  the  didactic,  little  of  the  higher 
spiritual  insight  of  which  we  shall  hereafter  speak  as  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  lowest  and  highest  species  of  poetry.  Keats 
represents  beauty  as  it  manifests  itself  in  outward  forms,  not 
from  any  ulterior  moral  purpose,  but  simply  from  a  love  of  the 
beautiful  in  itself.  He  is  an  Artist  of  the  first  degree,  embod- 
ying his  conceptions,  at  times,  in  forms  of  surpassing  beauty, 
as  in  "  Hyperion,"  "  The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes,"  and  portions  of 
**  Endymion." 

Such  being  the  distinguishing  feature  of  this  writer,  it  seems 
necessary,  previous  to  a  review  of  his  works,  to  indicate  the 
relation  of  the  beautiful  to  poetry.  This  will  require  a  defini- 
tion of  Poetry,  which  we  will  endeavour  to  pve  in  a  brief 


1849.]  The  Poetry  of  Keati.  416 

space,  ibough  at  the  ride  of  repeating  T?hat  has  been  better 
said  by  critics  before. 

What,  then  is  the  essence  of  the  poetical  ?  With  what 
objects  material  or  spiritual  is  poetry  concerned  ? 

The  least  informed  reader  of  the  reviews  will  discover  that 
every  man  has  an  answer  to  this.  One  tells  us  poetry  is  imita- 
tion, another,  creation,  another,  that  its  le^timate  province  is 
the  beautiful,  another,  that  it  should  be  a  teacher  of  truth  and 
morality.  In  fact  the  subtle  spirit  seems  to  elude  the  grasp  of 
all.  No  sooner  have  the  critics  built  their  walls  of  limitation 
around  it,  than  it  lightly  scales  them  and  darts  off  into  unex- 
plored realms.  Every  original  poet  finds  the  materials  of  his 
art  lying  in  by-places  and  comers  which  had  been  given  over 
by  common  consent  to  the  dominion  of  the  prossuc.  We  must 
not  look  to  criticism  to  teach  us  the  possibilities  of  poetry.  It 
can  deal  only  with  the  past,  illustrating  and  explaining  what 
has  been  done.  It  must  follow  in  the  train  of  genius,  content 
with  being  her  expositor.  The  weather-prophet  may  sit  in  the 
fields,  on  a  bright  day,  surrounded  with  his  almanacs  and 
instruments,  and  predict  the  changes  of  the  elements  ;  but  the 
sudden  rising  of  a  thunder  storm  disperses  all  his  fine  calcula- 
tions, and  sends  him  dripping  to  his  home.  Our  definitions  of 
poetry  must  not  be  narrow.  Any  theory  of  the  Art  is  incom- 
plete which  shuts  the  door  against  the  future.  We  must  accept 
the  past,  acknowledge  and  classify  it,  if  we  will,  but  stand  m 
reverence  before  the  awful  coming  of  every  new  bard. 

The  futility  of  all  these  critical  limitations  at  once  appears 
when  we  attempt  to  define  our  ideas  of  the  beautiful,  the  true, 
and  the  good,  tne  very  terms  employed  to  limit  the  art.  What 
is  this  Beauty,  this  Truth,  this  Love,  which  are  separately  or 
unitedly  considered  the  domain  of  poetry  ? 

As  far  as  our  vision  extends.  Truth,  Love,  and  Beauty  ap- 
pear to  complete  the  circle  of  being.  They  are  perceived  by 
what  we  call  the  intellectual,  affectional,  and  imaginative 
faculties  of  the  mind.  This  distmction  seems  the  least  arbi- 
trary of  any  we  can  make.  It  is  one  which  the  mind  appears 
naturally  to  recognize.  This  is  all  we  are  now  permitted  to 
know  of  absolute  being ;  as  much  of  the  Deity  as  he  is  pleased 
to  reveal  to  us ;  as  much,  perhaps,  as  our  faculties,  in  theur 
present  state,  can  comprehend. 

But  here  arises  a  difficulty.  Are  Truth,  Love,  and  Beauty 
separate  elements,  or  is  Being  one,  revealing  itself  in  these 
forms  ?    In  nature,  are  the  forces  of  heat,  electricity,  and 


416  The  Poetry  of  Keate.  [Sept 

attraction  really  different,  or  only  one  force  acting  in  diflforent 
circumstances  f  In  morals,  are  hnmilitj,  piety,  self-denial, 
separate  virtues,  or  is  there  but  one  essential  virtue  receiving 
these  names  from  its  several  manifestations?  These  ques- 
tions, especially  the  first,  which  includes  the  others,  are  of  the 
first  importance  to  the  decision  of  our  subject ;  for  if  there  be 
but  one  germ  of  spiritual  existence  which  is  Truth,  Love,  or 
Beauty,  acconling  to  the  relation  in  which  we  perceive  it,  then 
is  it  manifestly  absurd  to  say  poetry  deals  only  with  the  beau- 
tiful, the  true,  or  the  good. 

The  most  accurate  analysis  we  can  make  of  things  so  ab- 
stract seems  to  prove  that  ^eing  is  one.  At  least,  no  one  of 
the  elements  we  have  mentioned  can  exist  in  perfection  sepa- 
rated from  the  others.  Remove  the  elements  of  Truth  from 
existence,  and  Love  and  Beauty  go  to  seek  their  lost  compan- 
ion. There  can  be  no  perfect  liove  without  Truth  and  Beauty; 
no  perfect  Beauty  disjoined  from  Truth  and  Love.  As  we  fix 
our  mental  vision  upon  the  essence  of  Being,  these  elements 
blend  and  separate  like  the  shifting  lights  of  a  brilliant  gem. 

Thus  a  spiritual  thing  is  not  fully  known  until  this  question 
is  decided  in  relation  to  it.  Then  if  we  knew  the  precise 
amount  of  the  element  or  elements  of  Being  in  it,  its  relation 
to  every  other  thing  in  the  universe  and  to  Crod,  the  source  of 
all,  our  knowledge  of  it  would  be  complete.  Then  could  we 
form  a  theory  of  poetry  which  would  last  for  all  time,  but  not 
till  then.  Our  critics,  we  apprehend,  are  not  anxious  to  attempt 
such  a  task. 

The  Poet  sees  things  in  their  reality.  In  proportion  as  he 
looks  deeply  into  the  mystery  of  Being,  discovering  the  blended 
lustre  of  Truth,  Love,  and  Beauty,  is  he  a  true  seer.  His 
vocation  is  not  to  sever  things  God  hath  joined.  He  cannot 
cut  off  one  from  the  triple  elements  of  existence  and  sing  of 
it,  for  the  sole  condition  of  a  correct  appreciation  of  one  is  a 
knowledge  of  all.  This  poet  is  yet  to  come.  The  songs  of 
the  bards  have  hitherto  been  of  things  in  their  diversity.  They 
have  been  musical  fragments  from  the  secret  of  nature.  His 
song  must  be  of  its  harmony,  its  unity. 

Men  have  sought  to  limit  the  province  of  poetry,  and  their 
limitations  have  only  indicated  the  boundaries  of  their  own 
vision.  They  tell  us  Homer,  Shakespeare,  Pope,  or  Shelley 
have  closed  the  door  against  all  others.  They  can  only  mean 
that  their  own  sight  can  pierce  no  further.  Poes v  obeys  other 
laws  than  those  of  their  manufacture.    Its  range  is  coextensive 


1849.]  The  Podry  qf  Keati.  417 

irith  ihe  tiniyerse.  There  is  nothmg  so  high  that  it  will  not 
flj  up  to  it ;  nothing  so  common  that  it  will  not  stoop  to  ruse 
it  from  its  abasement.  Let  us,  then,  have  done  with  this  poor 
play  of  limitations.  We  onlj  weave  a  web  to  entangle  our- 
selves, the  meshes  of  which  wither  like  burnt  flax  from  around 
the  limbs  of  Genius.  The  spiritual  creation  is  not  exhausted. 
There  are  mysteries  beneath  mysteries,  yet  to  be  solved.  In 
fact,  what  have  been  all  our  advances  but  a  clearing  of  the 
Md  for  seed  time.  To  many  men  flashes  of  reality  have 
come,  but  they  have  been  wise  by  moments  only  to  be  foolish 
for  years.  The  great  poetical  sayings  of  all  the  poets  would 
fill  but  a  few  volumes.  No  one  of  them  has  been  great  alto- . 
gether.  Tet  let  us  not  despise  what  has  been  done.  We  I  i>^ 
cannot  understand  why  we  must  hate  Pope  to  love  Emerson. ) 
Let  us  have  every  man  who  has  written  up  to  his  capacity. 
He  is  necessarv  to  complete  the  series  of  minds  which,  be^- 
ning  with  the  lowest,  shall  ascend  to  the  hi^est.  Our  own 
spirits  must  pass  through  these  successive  steps  in  their  prog- 
ress. At  every  point  of  advancement  stands  a  bard  to  instruct 
us.  We  wrench  his  secret  from  him  and  pass  on,  but  why 
should  it  be  with  a  frown  ?  As  we  pace  the  street  at  night  we 
leave  behind,  one  after  another,  the  lamps  that  have  lighted 
our  course.  Shall  we  extinguish  them,  that  he  who  follows  may 
stumble  in  darkness  ? 

If  these  remarks  are  true,  we  may  by  their  aid  assign  the 
position  of  different  kinds  of  poets  in  the  ascending  series.      / 
The  lowest  rank  we  would  give  to  merely  didactic  teachers  in  ^  I 
verse,  of  science,  manners,  or  reli^on.    The  powers  required 
to  execute  this  species  of  poetry,  if  such  it  can  be  called,  are 
only  a  facility  in  versification  with  terseness  of  expresnon. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  the  satirist,  although  it  requures  a 
greater  degree  of  insight  to  wield  his  weapons  than  to  repeat  ^   ^ 
standard  precepts  of  morality,  or  scientific  truth.    Next  are 
the  painters  of  external  nature,  life  and  manners ;  men  like 
Irving,  Scott,  and  Crabbe,  who  Bixn  only  to  represent  the  sur- 
faces of  things,  content  if  amusement  may  thereby  be  rendered        3 
to  their  readers.    Beyond  this  come  various  degrees  of  spirit-^ 
ual  insight,  varying  in  men  so  widely  as  to  forbid  classification. 
Now  fiashing  down  for  an  instant  into  the  deep  {daces  of  nature        ^ 
and  mind,  as  in  Bulwer  and  Bailey,  now  stealing  in  uncon- 
sciouslv  and  imparting  a  spiritual  grace,  as  at  times  in  Keats, 
and  onener  in  Tennyson ;  now  pervading  the  thought  of  ui^-^ 
writer,  so  that  it  almost  destroys  his  medium  of  communication 

NO.  vni.  28 


418  The  Poetry  qf  JSSBoti.  [SepL 

irHh  oiher  men,  «s  in  BheOej,  Wordtfwordi,  and  America's 
great  poet,  Emerson.  As  a  soul  dwells  m  one  or  ihe  other  of 
these  elements  wfll  its  conoeptkms  of  beaaty  be  more  or  less 
refined,  from  &e  man  that  recq^nzes  it  oafy  in  oonbinatioDB 
of  wit,  ftnoy,  and  prettinees,  to  him  who  is  aliYe  to  the  virible 
shows  of  nature,  and  jet  fiurthOT,  to  him  whose  finer  sense  is 
only  excited  by  these  ontward  splendors  to  disoera  a  spiritiial 
Beauty  streaming  from  Ihe  heayens  and  the  earth,  from  li& 
and  Us  own  soul.  Sach  an  one,  reoognizii^  its  heavoily  mar- 
riage with  TruA  and  Love,  can  say  wiAi  Wordsworth,-^ 

**Baftat7^a  living  presence  of  the  earth, 
Surpassing  the  most  Mr  ideal  forms 
Which  craft  of  delicate  spirits  bath  composed 
From  eartii's  materials^waito  npoa  my  9mp§i 
Fitches  her  tent  before  me  as  I  move, 
An  hourly  neighbonr." 

The  highest  Beauty,  then,  is  seen  only  to  him  who  sees  move 
than  it,  who  knows  its  eternal  cmnpanions. 

There  is,  i^,  a  dceire  in  all  men,  more  or  less  deyeloped, 
for  an  outward  perfection  of  expression  in  the  poet.  His  words 
should  be  mnmcd,  and  clothe  his  oonoeptK)ns  in  beaatilU 
fbnns.  His  universal  desire  for  Imrmonions  ezpressi<m — iriiat 
is  it  in  its  last  analysis  bat  a  recognition  of  the  harmony  ci  the 
spiritual  uniyerse  ?  Music  is  not  a  thing  of  ^^  pitch-pipes  "  and 
fiddle-strings ;  it  is  Hie  answer  ^yen  by  the  materud  world  to 
a  sjnritual  longing.  So  with  beauty  of  form.  It  is  a  hint  of 
a  deeper  beauty.  Could  we  stand  in  space  and  look  upon 
God's  great  poem,  the  created  uniyerse,  we  should  doubUess 
discoyer  it  to  be  perfbct  in  form  and  harmonious ;  a  wmrk  in 
which  all  cdors,  si^ts,  and  sounds  combine  in  a  grand  unity. 
The  mind  of  man  foeb  this,  and  seeks,  in  its  k^er  iqdi^re, 
in  tins  req^ect,  to  ^^  be  perfect  as  its  Father  in  Heaven  is 
perfect.*' 

And  herein  is  a  great  diflbrenoe  in  ihe  power  of  mea ;  in 
their  capacity  to  receive  or  their  skill  in  the  ose  of  language, 
forms,  and  sounds.  This  diftrence  does  not  ooiTe8p(md  to  the 
d^rence  in  smritual  insij^t.  On  the  contrary,  men  possess- 
ing a  smaller  degree  of  the  latter  are  often  more  giSMi  in  tiie 
use  of  ike  former.    Also, 

*'Many  are  the  Poets  that  are  sown 
By  Natm^;  Men  endowed  with  highest  gifts, 
The  viikm  tmd  VufatuUy  4Mm  ; 
YttwmUmg  the acnmfmhmmi of  nmJ* 


/ 


1849.]  The  Poetry  qf  &ate.  419 

It  would  be  interesiong  to  investigate  the  cause  of  this  separsr 
tion  of  Onxxfp  which  we  would  suppose  should  be  united ;  but  our 
remarks  have  ahreadj  been  too  much  extended  upon  this  divi- 
sion of  our  subject.  Let  us  now,  bj  the  light  of  our  views  of 
the  Poetic,  endeavour  to  indicate  the  position  <^  the  author  we 
propose  to  review.  '  ->.     y 

Few  persons  qualified  to  pronounce  judgment  will  now,  we\r 
suspect,  deny  to  Keats  a  high  rank  among  modem  Snj^iish 
poets.  He  belongs  to  that  class  of  writers  who  have  been  con- 
demned without  a  hearing.  It  is  now  generallj  understood 
that  sarcasm  directed  against  the  poetry  of  Cderidge,  Words- 
worth, Bhelley,  Keats,  and  Tennyson,  is  but  the  expiring  echo 
of  a  departed  criticism.  Those  who  indulge  in  it  are  supposed, 
either  to  be  too  indolent  to  ^ve  to  these  great  masters  the 
studv  required  for  their  appreciation,  or  so  Obstinately  wedded 
to  old  models  that  they  are  incapable  of  understanding  the 
new.  That  the  works  of  tiiese  writers  constitute  an  era  in  our 
literary  history  we  cannot  doubt ;  that  they  are  the  prophecy 
and  in  part  the  realization  of  a  higher  species  of  poetry  than 
has  yet  be^i  written,  we  have  as  little  doubt.  Therefore  it 
would  now  be  superfluous  in  a  critic  to  waste  paper  and  ink  in 
argumg  about  the  merit  of  these  bards,  as  a  class.  Their  em- 
pire is  secure.  They  have  passed  into  that  empyreal  regum 
to  which  the  shafts  of  criticism  do  not  flv.  All  that  can  now  be 
done  is  to  settle  precedence  between  their  conflicting  chums  to 
excellence. 

His  task  is  relieved  from  much  of  its  difficultyby  the  great 
dissimilarity  in  the  genius  of  these  writers.  We  now  only 
laugh  at  the  stujHdity  of  the  reviewers  who  placed  Coleridge, 
Wordsworih,  and  Southey  in  one  ^^  school."  Now  and  then 
we  encounter  a  geniune  descendant  of  this  sagacious  band  who 
includes  Shelley,  Keats,  and  Tennyson  in  tl^  aame  category. 
But  there  can  be  littie  comparison  between  these  great  poets. 
The  genius  of  each  is  as  accurately  defined  as  that  of  Shaks- 
peare  from  his  contenqK>rary  dramatists  or  from  Milton.  It  / 
IS  true,  in  most  of  them  we  discover  a  sjuritual  insight  into  ^ 
nature  and  life,  which  forms  a  bond  of  union;  yet  even  in  this 
particular,  tiieir  different  points  of  observation  and  their  diffe^ 
ent  degrees  of  artistic  merit  and  maturity  of  power  widefy 
separate  them. 

Of  tiiis  illustrious  company  we  can  ascribe  to  Wordsworib  ^ 
alone  that  full  development  and  culture  necessary  to  the  em- 
ployment  df  all  the  poetic  energy  upon  all  the  materials  within 


420  The  Poetry  of  Keat9.  [Sept. 

its  reach.  Ss  life  has  been  trulj  a  consecrated  one ;  —  conse- 
crated to  the  discipline  of  his  lofty  powers  and  the  high  walk 
of  poesy.  His  productions  are  matore.  The  hand  of  the  artist 
has  brushed  away  the  last  speck  of  dust  and  left  them  perfected 
and  arrayed,  like  a  gallery  of  calm  majestic  statues,  awaiting 
the  reverence  of  the  world.  Or,  to  use  the  Poet's  own  noble 
figure  when  speaking  of  **  The  Excursion  "  and  the  yet  unpub- 
lished work  "  The  Recluse  ", — "  The  two  works  have  the  same 
kind  of  relation  to  each  other,  if  he  may  so  express  himself,  as 
the  Ante-chapel  has  to  the  body  of  a  Gothic  Church.  Con- 
tinuing this  allusion,  he  may  be  permitted  to  add,  that  his 
mmor  Pieces,  which  have  been  long  before  the  Public,  when 
they  shall  be  properly  arranged,  will  be  found  by  the  attentive 
Reader  to  have  such  connection  with  the  main  work  as  may 
give  them  claim  to  be  likened  to  the  little  cells,  oratories,  and 
sepulchral  Recesses,  ordinarily  included  in  those  Edifices.'' 

This 'high  encomium  we  can  bestow  upon  no  other  of  those 
writers  we  have  named.  Coleridge  with  a  capricious  hand 
scattered  the  riches  of  his  wonderful  intellect  and  imagination 
over  a  surface  too  extended  to  ensure  his  complete  success  in 
any  department.  He  has  left  a  few  poems  which  will  be  read  y 
as  long  as  Englishmen  read  any  thing.  We  know  not  how  r 
the  "Ancient  Mariner,"  "  Genevieve,"  the  fragment  of  "  Chris- 
tabel,"  or  "  Mont  Blanc,"  could  be  improved.  These  speci- 
mens we  think  will  authorize  us  to  claim  for  him  a  higher  rank 
as  an  artist  than  for  any  modem  English  author.  Indeed,  to 
find  their  rivals  in  this  respect  we  must  look  to  a  few  portions 
of  our  old  dramatists,  the  best  poems  of  Goethe,  and  the  choic- 
est products  of  Grecian  art.  Could  he  have  embodied  all  the 
conceptions  of  that  gifted  soul  of  his  in  such  exquisite  and 
harmonious  forms !  but  we  know  not  that  we  should  desire  it. 
We  sometimes  think  his  influence  upon  English  Literature 
will  be  more  enduring,  though  less  apparent  to  the  superficial 
observer,  than  if  he  had  been  merelv  a  poet.  His  conversation 
was  manna  from  heaven  to  a  littie  band  of  noble  men  in  their 
journey  through  the  desert,  and  gave  them  strength  to  con- 
tend against  the  hordes  of  literary  savages  that  surrounded 
them.  His  eloquent  and  often  mystical  books  were  among  the 
first  to  awaken  the  attention  of  England  to  the  exhaustiess 
riches  of  the  German  mind.  He  brought  to  the  criticism  of 
Shakspeare  a  spirit  as  superior  as  it  was  incomprehensible 
to  the  dwarfed  rules  of  his  time.  Would  we  understand  his 
true  influence  we  must  seek  for  it  in  tiie  better  portions  of 


1849.]  The  Poetry  of  Keat$.  421 

Haditty  of  Lamb,  Hood,  and  Hunt,  —  even  in  Wordsworth, 
Shelley,  and  Sonthej,  —  and  thence,  like  the  imperceptible 
eSfects  of  a  broad  river,  branching  out  into  innumerable  rills 
and  creeks,  until  a  whde  re^n  is  fertilized. 

That  Shellej  was  ^fted  with  depth  of  spiritual  insight,  and 
power  to  describe  the  most  profound  emotions  of  the  soul,  and 
the  Imks  bindmg  it  to  the  material  universe,  bejond  all  other 
English  poets,  we  had  almost  sud  bejond  Shakspeare  himself, 
we  cannot  doubt.  His  plumb  and  line  sound  those  awful 
depths  of  consciousness,  the  secret  places  where  joj  and  terror 
and  love  are  bom,  which  to  some  men  are  unknown.  But 
alas !  he  did  not  live  to  give  complete  utterance ;  his  brain 
was  erased  bj  the  woes  of  humanity,  his  short  life  embittered 
by  a  persecution,  of  which  we  have  no  parallel  in  the  history 
of  Modem  Literature !  Yet  what  might  not  that  Genius, 
in  the  maturity  of  its  power,  have  accomplished,  that  amid 
the  chaos  of  a  life  like  his  could  shape  such  forms  of  awful 
grandeur  as  rise  before  us  in  ^'  Promedieus  Unbound  *' ;  that 
could  sway  the  passioiDs  as  in  ^^  The  Genci " ;  that  could 
glide  into  the  realm  of  the  spiritual  world,  as  in  ^^  Adonids  " 
and  ^^  Alastor,"  or  revel  in  the  pure  sunshine  of  beauty,  as  in 
" The  Sensitive  Plant"  and  " The  Skylark"  ?  It  has  been 
traly  said  of  Shelley,  "  He  was  a  broken  mirror,  whose  frag- 
ments reflected  the  forms  of  all  things.  He  was  a  poet  for 
poets."  His  writings  are  to  the  bard  what  the  Belsnaizar's 
Feast  of  AUston  is  to  the  artist  —  more  precious  that  their 
creator  left  them  with  all  their  imperfections,  to  work  their 
way  into  the  souls  of  men. 

The  genius  of  Southey  was  oriental.  He  was  a  man  out  of 
lus  lonntude  by  half  the  breadth  of  the  globe.  His ''  Thalaba" 
and  ^^  Curse  of  Kehama"  are  as  truly  wonderful  and  excellent 
in  Uieir  way,  as  his  ^^  Madoc  "  and  ^^  Boderic  "  are  truly  the 
reverse.  He  reasoned  upon  politics  and  reli^on,  he  looked 
upon  society  like  a  Brahmm :  he  did  all  manner  of  foolish 
things,  and  wrote  poems  that  should  be  hung  up  as  ^^  scare- 
crows," — yet  twice  he  found  his  trae  element,  and  left  those 
specimens  of  Eastern  allegory  and  loftiest  poetry  unrivalled 
in  our  language.  ^ 

Each  of  these  great  writers,  no  less  than  Byron  and  Scott, 
has  been  imitated  more  or  less  successfully,  ^e  peculiarities 
of  master  and  disciples  have  thus  divided  the  poetic  band  into 
groups.  Among  these  the  latest  is  that  composed  of  Keats 
and  his  followers.    Though  so  early  taken  from  the  earth,  he 


423  The  Foeky  ef  Ke4d».  [Sept. 

lired  kmg  enough  to  ezpresB  Us  thooght  in  a  few  prodociioDS 
inferior  to  no  oUiexB  of  tiie  age  in  cm^nality  of  desi^  and 
execution. 

We  say  Keats  was  an  ori^nal  poet.  Of  course  we  do  not 
employ  toe  tenn  in  the  nsnal  fix^^  mode,  as  indicating  an 
entire  dissimilarity  from  all  others.  Men  of  trae  genins  are 
not  monsters.    .Aithongh  possessing  a  temperament  and  ocea^ 

tying  a  position  which  makes  it  impossible  that  tiiey  should  ever 
e  oSier  than  themselves,  vet  influences  from  lofhr  minds  steal 
in  to  direct  them,  and  underneath  all  their  peouUarities  flows 
the  tide  of  a  common  humanity,  as  the  same  ocean  ripfdes 
around  the  flower-decked  islands  of  the  tro}Mcs,  and  ladies  the 
\^  icy  banks  that  frown  over  the  polar  seas.  Of  course  tiiere  are 
men  whose  prodoictions  are  widely  separated ;  who  stand  back 
to  back ;  yet  the  majority  of  writers  are  distinguished  by  char- 
acteristics not  easily  described.  A  sUght  peculiarity  of  tern* 
perament,  or  the  dight  |»edominance  of  a  single  faculty ;  a 
little  difference  of  mental  culture ;  a  year's  additional  sjmtual 
experience, — either  of  these  things  abghtiy  colors  the  medium 
through  which  that  strange  assemblage  of  diows  and  mysteries 
we  call  nature  and  hfe  are  viewed,  and  constitutes  the  seer 
an  orimnal  author.  These  pcuHarities  are  probably  his 
own.  Temperament,  deptii  of  being,  and  capacity  of  ^ritual 
virion,  mentol  and  moral  experience, — these  came  from  Waa 
who  ^ed  that  each  of  his  creatures  shidl  diflbr  firom  every 
other.  But  the  same  materials  surround  all.  Incitements, 
and  hints,  and  suggesticms  must  come  from  others.  In  &et, 
only  by  contact  on  every  side  with  differing  minds,  can  one 
acquire  its  proper  development.  By  the  attracticm  and  repul- 
sion of  every  individual  in  the  great  mass  of  humamty,  is  each 
soul  driven  to  its  own  place. 
^"■^  We  must,  then,  look  for  much  that  is  common  to  us  all  in 
the  most  original  mind,  and  not  deny  its  claim  to  genuineness, 
even  if  we  can  discover  all  the  sources  of  its  inspiration,  and 
all  the  media  of  communication  between  itself  and  other  spirits. 
Therefore  we  shall  not  hesitate  to  bestow  upon  Keats  the  tide 
of  a  great  ori^nal  poet*  His  peculiarity,  as  we  have  before  y 
^  observed,  is  the  love  of  the  Beautiful.  He  is  tiie  apostle  of  ^ 
^  sensuous  beauty,  the  Spenser  of  modem  poets.  Heavoi  and 
earth,  air  and  sea,  and  the  forms  xsi  human  and  mytholo^cal 
bein^  are  constantly  filling  his  soul  with  tibe  materials  (^  his 
poetic  creation.  He  reveb,  he  exults,  he  is  oppressed  and 
fidnts,  amid  the  hixury  arovmd  him.    He  cannot  drive  away    * 


i 


the  throQg9  of  beai)iiftil  images  that  besiege  hh  fifprit,  and 
he  ia  eontent  with  the  rei^rodaciioB  and  conwination  of  lliese. 
Seoeuous  beaut;  is  all-safficient  for  him.  The  reader  who 
lo^  for  any  purpose  bejond  this  iu  his  works,  will  be  disap- 
pointed. Sto  has  no  power  in  ihe  delineation  of  character  and 
\Ufe,  and  he  sever  attempts  it.  The  beautifal  mythology  of 
•Groeoe  affords  him  %  field  for  the  zeroise  of  his  power»  and 
through  it  he  miges  with  ever  new  delight. 

**  The  iDtelH^ble  fonns  of  ancient  poets, 
The  fiur  bmBanitiefl  of  old  religkni, 
The  power,  the  beant;^,  and  the  majesty 
That  had  her  haanU  in  dale  or  piny  monntain, 
Or  forest,  by  slow  stream,  or  peoUy  spring, 
Or  ohanns  and  W9imj  depths"*^ 

all  these  live  again  in  his  pictured  ^ages.  He  is  entirely 
removed  from  common  life,  dwelling  m  the  high  regions  of 
romance,  love,  and  beauty.  The  old  fictions  of  the  gods  ap- 
pear with  a  new  lustre  in  the  inspiration  of  this  modem  bard. 
Surrounded  by  modem  life,  and  oppressed  by  the  neglect  and 

f persecution  of  an  age  that  knew  not  his  rare  powers,  he  never, 
ike  Shelley,  makes  his  verse  the  medium  of  his  opinions  or 
personal  feelings.    He  seeks  not  to  purify  the  hell  of  modem  ^ 
civilization,  but  to  escape  from  it.    Beauty  to  him  is  sufficient 
consolation  for  all  woes, — it  is  religion  and  power. 

**  A  thing  of  beaaW  is  a  joy  ibrerer"— 

"'Tistheetemallaw 
That  first  in  Beanty  shaU  be  first  in  M^ht" 

The  loves  of  Endymion  and  the  sonrows  of  old  Saturn,  the  ^ 
dreams  of  Madeline,  the  conjurings  of  Lamia,  and  the  macbflwii 
of  Isabel,— these  were  to  bun  more  than  all  things  eke.    He 
walked  among  the  galleries  filled  with  his  own  majestic  md    -^ 
bvely  creations,  unmindfol  of  the  worid,  until  his  spirit  burst  ^ 
from  the  frail  temple  that  held  it,  and  fled  to  another  sphere.  "^ 

We  then  look  upon  him  as  the  poet  of  sensuous  beaufy,  fiw 
of  that  spiritual  insight  that  links  the  appearances  of  nature 
witii  the  finest  and  loftiest  moods  of  mental  and  moral  ezperi^ .         y 
ence,  that  power  which  so  exalts  to  Wordsworth  the  lowest  forma  C    -^ 
of  being,  and  gives  to  Shelley  diat  marvellous  ability  whicn' 
makes  his  most  gbwing  pages  of  description  bit  the  veil  of 
&e  subtlest  metaphysics,  he  is  entirely  destitute.    His  senses 
are  nearly  perfect,  but  ^  inner  sense  is  not  developed.    Yet 
to  the  full  appreciation  of  the  outward  splendor  of  the  universe 
ntany  g^  are  essential, — a  deHcate  ear  for  harmony,  an  eye 


424  The  Poetry  of  Keate.  [Sept 

for  color  and  form,  and  a  susceptibiKtj  to  taste  and  feeHng. 
In  the  first  of  these  we  think  him  deficient.  We  do  not  hear 
in  his  verse  the  exquisite  modulation  of  Shelley,  the  varying 
music  of  Coleridge,  or  the  sublime  organ  harmony  of  Milton. 
But  in  the  remaining  qualifications  he  is  not  deficient.  In 
color  he  is  inferior  to  Shelley,  whose  poetry  floats  in  radiance, 
and  who  must  be  acknowledged  as  the  master  of  all  in  this 
respect.  But  his  senses  of  feeling  and  taste  are  developed 
beyond  those  of  all  other  men.  His  nerves  ever  thrill  to 
deucious  sensations ;  his  pulses  bound,  and  his  cheeks  flush  in 
every  line.  That  physical  weakness  which  so  oppresses  most 
men,  oidy  rendered  more  acute  his  sensibility  to  outward  im- 
pressions. His  gods  and  goddesses  glow  witii  all  the  fervors 
of  love  and  hate.  His  banquets,  and  clusters  of  grapes,  and 
trees  laden  with  fruits,  would  make  an  epicure  die  in  our 
northern  lands.  In  this  latter  respect  he  is  equalled  by  no 
modem  English  writer,  although  we  discover  the  same  sus- 
ceptibility in  a  less  degree  in  Scott  and  Dickens.  Who  has 
not  longed  for  tlie  old  days  of  cakes  and  ale,  and  venison 
pasties,  in  readmg  the  romances  of  Sir  Walter  ?  or  who  has 
not,  in  imagination,  snuSed  with  delight  the  steam  of  Dickens's 
Christmas  dinners,  or  hung  over  the  delicious  brown  toast,  and 
cups  of  tea,  and  nice  tarts,  of  his  imm6rtal  housewives  ? 

But  it  is  in  definiteness  and  beauty  of  form  that  Keats 
must  be  acknowledged  to  excel  all  modem  English  poets,  and 
indeed,  to  fall  little  below  Chaucer  and  Spenser.  The  objects 
he  describes  are  such  as  admit  this.  He  deals  wholly  with 
the  finite,  and  embodies  every  thing  upon  which  he  looks  in  a  / 
shape  of  beauty.  There  is  no  indistinctness,  nothing  indefinite  f 
in  his  outiines.  Every  description  is  a  picture  of  the  thing 
described.  His  poetry  reminds  us  more  than  any  other  of 
those  beautiful  Greek  odes  in  wliich  one  group  of  images  after 
another  seems  to  start  out  from  the  page  as  we  read.  Per- 
haps he  is  inferior  to  Chaucer  in  that  intense  power  of  concen- 
totion  which  gives  a  portrait  in  every  line ;  and  his  earlier 
works  are  imperfect  as  a  whole  in  general  artistic  finish.  Tet 
in  his  latest  productions,  in  the  fragment  of  ^^  Hyperion,''  in 
the  "  Eve  of  St.  Agnes,"  the  "  Ode  to  the  Nightingale,"  and 
^^  On  the  Grecian  Um,"  it  almost  seems  that  Art  can  go  no 
further,  either  in  perfectness  of  detail  or  general  completeness. 
In  this  high  gift  he  is  approached  by  no  one  of  our  modem 
writers  except  Tennyson,  whose  "Mort  D' Arthur"  and 
^^  GSnone  "  will  live  with  the  creations  of  his  master  as  long  as 
a  sense  of  beauty  remains  in  the  souls  of  English  readers. 


1849.]  The  Poetry  of  Keats.  425 

This  artistic  power  we  regard  as  one  of  the  highest  in^ea- 
tions  of  genius,  although  the  critics  are  fond  of  ascribing  it  to 
mere  talent.    Doubtless,  like  every  other  gift  of  God,  it  is 
greatly  developed  by  ctdture,  and  acquaintance  with  the  best 
models,  but  it  is  nevertheless  dependent  for  its  existence  upon 
great  original  poetic  capacity.     There  are  men  of  great  men- 
tal power,  who  may  read  Homer  and  Plato  and  gaze  upn  the 
Venus  de  Medici  and  the  pictures  of  Raphael  all  their  lives, 
and  still  never  write  picturesquely,  or  even  with  the  lowest 
degree  of  artistic  effect.     There  are  others  whose  very  con- 
versation is  music  and  painting ;  to  whose  minds  words  come  ^  . 
unbidden,  and  arrange  themselves  in  the  happiest  forms.   Such)  ^  ) 
men  are  true  artists.     Study  can  only  develop  their  natural^"  ^ 
power,  and  prune  a  youthful  luxuriance  of  expression.    There 
never  was  a  greater  mistake  than  the  popular  fallacy  that  great 
genius  is  naturally  averse  to  this.    Bante,  and  Homer,  and  i 
Shakspeare,  and  Chaucer,  and   Spenser,  and  Milton,  and  J 
Goethe  are  not  only  the  greatest  poets  but  the  greatest  artists  / 
of  the  world.    A  deficiency  in  this  respect  may  often  throw 
into  more  prominent  view  the  other  brilliant  qualities  of  a 
writer,  but  it  is  still  a  deficiency,  and  one  that  eventually  ¥rill 
prove  fatal  to  the  duration  of  any  production  of  the  human 
mind.    It  is  impossible  to  say  how  much  the  perfect  form  of 
Greek  Literature  has  contributed  to  its  immortality.    It  has 
come  down  to  us  attired  in  the  most  exquisite  garb,  and  cannot 
be  forgotten. 

This  rare  power  few  will  be  disposed  to  deny  to  Keats. 
Where  can  be  found  more  perfect  illustrations  of  it  than  in  the 
following  pictures,  taken  almost  indiscriminately  from  his  pages,  ^  j2 
and  equalled  by  many  others  even  in  his  most  imperfect  pro-  - 
ductions. 

In  his  picture  of  fallen  royalty : 

"  Deep  in  the  shady  sadness  of  a  vale 
Far  sunken  from  the  healthy  breath  of  mom, 
Far  from  the  fiery  noon  and  eye's  one  star, 
Sat  gray-haired  Saturn,  qniet  as  a  stone. 
Still  as  the  silence  roond  about  his  lair ; 
Forest  on  forest  hung  about  his  head 
Like  doud  on  doud.    No  stir  of  air  was  there ; 
Kot  so  much  life  as  on  a  summer's  day 
Bobs  not  one  light  seed  from  the  feathered  grass, 
But  where  the  dead  leaf  fell,  there  did  it  rest 
A  stream  went  yoiceless  b;^,  still  deadened  more 
By  reason  of  his  fallen  divinity 
Spreading  a  shade ;  The  Naiad  'mid  her  reeds 
Fi«ss'd  her  cold  finger  closer  to  her  lips." 


426  The  Poetry  qf  Keaii.  [Sept. 

Or  this  of  Hyperion,  entering  his  palace  in  Ae  sldeB : 

"He  entered,  bat  he  entered  full  of  wrath ; 
His  flaming  robes  streamed  oat  beyond  his  heels, 
And  g»Te  a  roar  as  if  of  earthly  me, 
That  scared  away  the  meek  ethereal  Horns, 
And  made  their  dove-wings  tremble.    On  he  flared, 
From  stately  nave  to  nave,  from  rtoAt  to  Tanlt, 
Through  bowers  of  flragrant  and  enwreathed  lij]^ 
And  diamond-pared,  lustroas,  long  arcades, 
Until  he  reached  the  mat  main  cupola; 
There  standSn?  fierce  beneath,  he  stamped  bis  foot. 
And  from  the  oasements  deep  to  the  high  towers, 
Jarred  his  own  golden  region." 

Or  this  of  the  gods,  advancbg  into  a  rale : 

—"Above  a  sombre  cliff 

Their  heads  appeared,  and  ap  their  stature  grew 

Till  on  the  level  beiglitthdr  stepa  foond  ease." 

Or  this  description  of  the  banquet-room  in  "  Lamia  "  : 

"  Abont  the  halls,  and  to  and  tnm  the  doorii 
There  was  a  noise  of  wings,  till  in  short  space 
The  glowing  banqnet-room  shone  with  vnde-ardied  grace. 

.  A  haunting  music,  sole  perhaps  and  lone 
Supportress  of  the  fairy-roof,  made  moan 
Throughout,  as  fearful  the  whole  charm  might  fade. 
Presh  carved  cedar,  mimi<^ing  a  glade 
Of  palm  and  plaiotahi,  met  from  either  side, 
High  in  the  midst  in  honor  of  the  bride ; 
Two  palms,  and  then  two  plaintains,  and,  so  on, 
From  either  side  their  stems  branched  one  to  one 
All  down  the  aisled  palace;  and  beneath  all 
There  ran  a  stream  of  lamps  straight  on  from  wall  to  walL 
So  canopied  lay  an  untasted  feast 
Teeming  with  odors.'* 

And  this  picture  of  the  mountdn  — 

"  Whose  barren  back 
Stretches,  with  all  its  mist  and  cloudy  rack 
Southwestward,  to  Cleone.*' 


Or  Lycius  — 

"Char 
Like 

Or  the  Nymph 


"  Charioteering  foremost  in  the  envious  race, 
Like  a  young  Jove  with  calm  uneager  face." 


"  Uprisen  to  the  breast 
In  the  fountain's  pebbly  margin,  and  she  stood 
'Mong  lilacs  like  the  youngest  of  the  brood." 

But  the  Tery  abundance  of  such  passages  in  this  writer 
must  prevent  us  from  farther  illustration.  £Qs  works  are  gal- 
leries of  pictures. 


1849.]  The  Poetry  of  Keats.  427 

These  great  exceUenoes,  we  Hunk,  fblly  snstain  the  daim 
we  make  for  him  of  bmog  a  true  original  roet.  Neither  will 
ike  &ct  ihat  his  genius  was  powerfally  qniokened  by  the  influ- 
ence of  Oreek  and  old  Engiidi  literature  detract  from  his  y 
merit.  His  mind  instinctively  caught  the  spirit  of  the  Grecian  ^ 
mythdogy.  Those  forms  to  him  were  animated  with  the  same 
beautiful  significance  as  to  the  great  &thers  of  poetry.  ^^  He 
was  a  Greek,"  Shelley  truly  said ;  yet  he  was  not  confined  to 
this  field  for  his  materials.  His  later  efibrts  prove  that  his 
power  was  equal  to  the  adoption  and  animation  of  any  class  of 
objects.  He  was  equally  at  home  in  the  romantic  and  in  the 
dasfflc.  He  read  the  old  English  writers  with  appreciating 
admiration,  and  their  influence  can  be  discovered  m  the  in- 
creased luxuriance  of  his  own  prolific  mind.  Had  he  lived  to.  /  . 
develop  to  its  full  capacity  his  great  power,  we  should  have(f  ) 
witnessed  in  him  a  union  of  the  classic  and  romimtic,  of  luxu-  ^ 
riance  of  fancy  wedded  to  a  faultiess  symmetry,  which  never 
has  been  known  in  our  language.  And  the  same  appreciation 
of  beauty  that  could  revive  the  dead  forms  of  the  heathen 
gods,  we  doubt  not  would,  as  its  crownins  achievement,  have 
Miimated  tiie  thousand  elements  of  modem  nfe,  which  need  only 
the  seeing  eye  and  the  hand  of  the  artist  to  be  rescued  from 
the  realm  of  the  prosiuc,  and  enshrined  amid  the  lawful  themes 
of  poesy.  But  such  a  consummation  was  not  permitted.  He 
died  witii  the  flush  of  youth  upon  all  his  works,  yet  leaving  a 
wonderful  example  of  constantly  increanng  power.  From 
^^Endymion"  to  ^* Hyperion"  is  a  distance  that  few  men  pass 
during  long  lives  of  literary  exertion.  What  might  not  he 
have  done  who  could  measure  it  in  a  few  years,  beset  by  ill- 
ness  and  discouraged  by  neglect? 

Such  is  our  estunate  of  Keats.    A  Poet  of  great  original 

gnius,  another  witness  in  these  times  to  the  eternal  wortii  of 
>auty,  yet  witnesring  only  in  part,  living  only  in  its  outer 
courts,  not  penetrating  deeply  into  the  Spiritual,  not,  indeed,  1/ 
a  master  of  all  the  details  of  the  Sensuous ;  yet  we  will  joy-  ^ 
fully  receive  him  as  he  came,  and  accept  from  him  what  others 
cannot  give  us.  Neglect  not  his  song  because  it  was  of  beauty 
alone.  We  are  too  apt  to  forget,  in  our  struggle  fbr  the  re- 
form of  man's  circumstances,  in  the  din  of  our  moral  efforts  for 
the  elevation  of  the  many,  that  there  are  more  ways  than  one 
tor  the  spiritual  regeneration  of  the  soul.  God  speed  all  truly 
humane  endeavours  for  the  im{»rovement  of  man  in  any  partic* 
uhir.   He  who  will  cast  out  the  least  of  the  devib  that  rage  in 


428  Prichard'a  Natural  m$torjf  of  Man.         [Sept 

the  midst  of  ns  shall  be  acconnted  worthy  of  honor ;  but  perish 
the  spirit  that  in  the  contest  for  the  practical  forgets  the  spir- 
itual or  even  the  aesthetic  in  our  nature ;  that  irill  enslave  moi 
like  Keats  to  editing  '^  People's  Journals,"  and  writbg  ^*  Voices 
from  the  Crowd  "  Minds  that  cannot  be  influenced  by  the 
latter,  may  be  drawn  by  the  high,  calm  beauty  of  the  former. 
There  are  spirits  all  the  way  from  Heaven  to  Hell,  and  all 
methods  of  influence  must  be  employed  to  lead  them  upward. 
True  Genius  is  always  religious.  It  never  works  in  vain,  but 
leaves  in  the  world  something  that  shall  eventually  vindicate 
its  title  to  the  love  of  men.  Honor  to  the  apostle  of  outward 
beauty.  Let  him  sing  his  song  and  move  all  within  his  reach; 
and  for  those  who  are  too  high  to  be  elevated  by  his  notes,  one 
greater  shall  be  sent ;  for  wherever  there  is  spiritual  want, 
there  is  omnipresent  Deity  employing  its  eternal  agencies  in 
\      furnishing  the  supply. 


Art.  III.  —  The  Natural  BUtary  of  Man  ;  eompriiing  m^ 
qidries  into  the  modifying  inHuenee  ofphyiical  and  moral 
ageneiee  on  the  different  tribes  of  the  human  family.  By 
J.  0.  Prichard,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  S.,  &;c.  Second  edition, 
enUirged.  With  forty-four  colored  and  five  pliun  illustra- 
tions engraved  on  steel,  and  ninety-seven  engravings  on 
wood.    London :  Hippolyte  Bulliere.     1845. 

A  decided  impulse  to  the  study  of  Ethnology  has  manifested 
itself  in  every  scientific  circle.  It  does  not  need  stimulus  so 
much  as  direction :  the  various  parties  who  are  foraging  on  this 
extensive  field  have  become  embarrassed  by  the  fiicts  they 
have  collected.  They  are  not  yet  certain  whether  facts  tiiat  be- 
long to  separate  groups  have  been  illegally  mixed,  or  whether 
all  the  facts  of  a  single  group  have  been  obt^ed.  Every  con- 
clusion is  therefore  still  held  in  abeyance  by  the  consciousness 
that  new  facts,  or  new  relations  of  old  facts,  may  mollify  it. 
The  science  is  hardly  large  enough  yet  to  go  alone.  But  the 
fiMSts  already  possessed  point  to  such  remarkable  developments, 
and  the  field  is  found  to  be  so  unexpectedly  fhutful,  that  a 
superior  aviditv  of  mvestigation  is  shown  in  no  other  direction. 
Travellers  and  historians  are  questioned  and  collated,  their 
true  ethnological  residue  is  rapidly  extracted,  physical  geog- 


1849.]         Prichard'a  Nixtural  Mstofy  of  Man.  429 

rapfaers  surrender  their  mountain-ranges  and  inland  seas  to 
modify'  the  complexion  and  constitution  of  races ;  and  even 
the  old  literalist  eagerly  spreads  his  Mosaic  of  texts,  as  if 
brooding  and  warming  over  Genesis  would  finally  engender 
the  authentic  origin  of  man.  Dr.  Prichard  believes  in  the 
unity  of  the  human  race  on  account  of  the  facts  he  has  cd- 
lected.  His  reviewers  deem  him  to  be  one  of  the  few  relig- 
ious investigators ;  for  a  belief  in  books  called  sacred  with 
many  men  passes  for  Religion.  Professor  Agassiz  thinks  that 
his  facts  support  the  theory  of  a  quintuple  origin  :  but  he  is 
very  careful  to  surmise  that  only  one  of  these  is  mentioned  in 
Genesis.  Every  investigator  has  his  wrench  at  that  ancient 
document ;  and  with  many  the  object  seems  to  be,  not  to 
study  Ethnology,  but  to  construct  a  Mosaic  equation  out  of  the 
only  facts  which  will  balance  the  texts.  Even  if  it  were  prob- 
able that  the  human  race  have  all  descended  from  a  single 
primeval  pwr,  it  can  be  fairly  proved  to  be  so  only  by  those 
who  conduct  their  investigations  independent  of  tradition. 

Dr.  Prichard's  book,  whose  title  heads  this  notice,  is  a 
reduced  and  popular  statement  of  his  great  argument  for  the 
genealogical  unity  of  mankind,  bs  it  exists  in  his  five  previous 
volumes  of  "  Researches."  It  is  illustrated  by  beautiful  and 
characteristic  plates,  drawn  from  authentic  sources.  They 
are  true  to  nature ;  many  plates  embellish,  these  illustrate. 
The  special  types  of  human  varieties  are  kept  distinct,  and 
yet  their  analogical  gradation  is  quite  evident.  It  is  altogether 
a  beautiful  volume. 

The  argument,  of  which  we  proceed  to  give  a  brief  anal- 
ysis, suffers  from  its  reduced  condition  ;  and  the  student  will 
not  be  satisfied  unless  the  volumes  of  Researches  are  within 
his  reach.  But  it  is  quite  sufficient  to  give  a  general  idea  of 
the  bulk  and  kind  of  material  existing  in  support  of  the  the- 
ory, that  all  the  difierent  races  of  men,  with  their  varieties, 
sprang  from  a  single  pair. 

I.  A  generalization  based  upon  facts  observed  among 
plants  and  animals.  The  perpetuation  of  hybrids,  so  as  to 
produce  new  and  intermediate  tribes,  is  impossible.  The 
same,  then,  ought  to  be  true  of  mankind,  if  all  its  varieties, 
like  the  tribes  of  plants  and  animals,  sprang  from  distinct 
stocks.  But  this  is  not  true  of  mankind.  All  races  and 
varieties  are  equally  capable  of  propagating  their  ofl&pring  by 
intermarriages,  however  dissimilar  the  varieties  may  be.  He 
instances  hybrid  human  races  that  continue  to  propagate :  the 


430  Priofaird's  Natural  HMory  of  Mm.  [S^ 

Grigoa  Hottentots,  from  Dutch  and  Hottentots ;  the  BranHaQ 
Cafuoos,  from  native  Americans  and  imported  Negroes ;  the 
Papuas  of  New-Guinea  and  the  adjacent  islands,  from  Papuan 
Negroes  and  Malays.  Opponents  must  prove,  then,  that 
human  races  are  an  exception  to  the  universallj  prevalent  lair 
of  organized  nature.  If  they  are  not,  the  propagati<»i  of 
hybrid  proves  that  all  the  tribes  of  men  are  of  one  &mily. 

IL  Argument  from  facts  relative  to  the  nature  and  orijp- 
nation  of  animal  varieties :  whether  the  diversities  which  exist 
between  races  of  men  are  y^cificy  or  only  examples  of  devo- 
tions like  those  which  occur  among  animals  who  are  domesti- 
cated, or  transported  to  more  or  less  genial  climates,  or  con- 
fined to  novel  nutriment.  He  instances  very  curious  and 
striking  varieties  of  the  hog,  horse,  ass,  sheep,  goat,  cow,  dog, . 
cat,  and  gallinaceous  fowls.  Their  variations  include  modifi- 
cations in  external  properties,  physiological  changes  as  to  the 
laws  of  the  animal  economy,  and  psfychdogical  changes  in 
the  instincts,  habits,  and  powers  of  perception  and  intellect. 
These  last  changes  are  sometimes  brought  about  by  tnuning : 
are  sometimes  permanently  fixed  in  the  breed  so  long  as  it 
remsdns  unmixed,  and  are  pos^ble  (mly  to  a  limited  extent, 
always  preserving  a  particular  type,  which  b  that  of  the  spe- 
cies. He  then  proceeds  to  generalize :  races  of  men  are  more 
subject  to  the  agencies  of  climate  than  almost  any  race  of 
animiJs.  Civilization,  and  the  influence  of  mind,  conspire  to 
produce  great  modifications.  ^^A  priori^  we  nnght  expect 
to  discover  in  the  psychological  characters  of  human  races 
changes  similar  in  kind,  but  infinitely  greater  in  degree." 
The  bulk  of  the  volume  is  occupied  with  a  survey  of  the 
diversities  displayed  by  man,  from  three  points  of  view: 
modifications  in  external  properties;  physiob^cal  changes; 
psychological  alterations. 

UI.  1.  Modifications  in  external  ]^r(^rties.  Varieties  in 
the  complexion  and  in  the  structure  of  the  skin,  Th^re  is  no 
organic  difference  of  skin,  but  only  transitions  from  race  to 
race,  and  varieties  m  single  races  exist.  Instance  of  the  pcN> 
cupme-man  in  England,  who,  if  his  children  had  pr(^gated, 
since  they  were  like  him,  might  have  been  mistaken  for  the 
first  man  of  a  distinct  species.  Jews  become  black  in  Soutii- 
em  India ;  dark  races  grow  light  as  they  asc^d  tablelands 
and  mountains ;  blue  eyes  and  red  hair  are  found  among  Af- 
ghanistans ;  and  gradaticms  of  color  are  perceptible  down  tiie 
sides  of  tiie  HiauJayan  and  Cordillerean  ranges,  also  from 


1849.]         Prichard's  Naiural  JBiHorjf  of  3fan.  481 

province  to  provbce  in  Africa.  A  comparison  of  Ae  Negro's 
hair  mth  the  wool  of  animals  proves  that  he  has  hair  proper, 
and  that  wool  is  confined  to  animals.  The  differences  noticed 
in  human  hair  are  attributed  to  different  degrees  of  crispadon. 
(We  regret  this  argument  for  Unity,  for  the  sake  of  those 
among  our  Orthodox  brethren  who  at  the  same  time  believe 
in  the  divine  origin  of  Genesis,  and  establish  slavery  upon 
physical  distinctions.  Is  Moses  right,  and  yet  is  there  no 
wool,  is  there  no  special  tUnUj  no  special  generic  neffreitjf  di- 
vinely postulating  slavery  ?  Would  it  not  be  more  economical 
to  swear  by  Agasaiz  than  by  Prichard  ?)  Varieties  of  struc- 
ture of  the  skull  and  skeleton  do  not  amount  to  specific  dis- 
tinctions, because,  1.  ^^none  of  the  di&rences  in  question 
exceed  the  limits  of  individual  variety,  or  are  greater  than  &e 
diversities  found  within  the  circle  of  one  nation  or  family." 
2.  ^^  The  varieties  of  form  in  human  races  are  by  no  means  so 
considerable,  in  many  points  of  view,  as  the  instances  of  vari- 
ation which  are  known  to  occur  in  different  tribes  of  animals 
belonging  to  the  same  stock,  there  being  scarcely  one  domes- 
ticated species  which  does  not  display  much  more  considerable 
deviation  from  the  typical  character  of  the  tribe." 

Dbtribution  of  Nations.  He  shows  the  relationship  of  the 
ancient  Egyptians  to  the  people  of  Africa,  and  sums  up  thus : 

^  If  it  be  admitted  that  the  Egyptians  display  some  traces  of 
approximation  in  physical  character  to  the  other  nations  of  Africa, 
a  fact  which  was  striking  to  Ledyard  and  to  Denon ;  and  if  it  be 
supposed  that  theee  traits  are  the  results  of  physical  agencies  on 
a  race  subjected  during  thoueands  of  years  to  their  influence,  it 
may  be  supposed,  with  great  probability,  that  similar  causes  oper- 
ating upon  tribes  of  people  in  the  rudest  condition  of  existence, 
and  so  much  the  more  subjected  to  the  influence  of  x^limate,  and 
to  other  agencies  which  modify  the  moral  and  physical  character 
of  human  races,  would  produce  a  much  greater  and  more  general 
eflfect'* 

He  notices  the  remarkable  influence  of  climate  upon  branches 
of  the  Hindoo  HeuoqiIv,  and  then  passes  to  the  Indo-European 
nations,  ^^  who  speak  languages  of  cognate  origm,  and  who 
are  proved  by  that  connecting  bond  to  be  the  descendants  of 
one  ori^nal  stock."  They  are  spread  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Ganges  to  the  northern  extremity  of  Scandinavia.  The  pres- 
ent characteristics  of  these  races  do  not  agree  entirely  with 
those  given  by  ancient  writers.    Therefore  they  must  have 


482  Pilchard's  Natural  SR^tary  of  Man.  [Sept 

become  changed  or  modified  through  the  lapse  of  time,  and 
the  influence  of  external  agencies. 

He  then  attempts  to  group  the  five  great  Nomadic  races, 
and  founds  their  identity,  not  decisively,  but  with  much  prob- 
ability, upon  an  analysis  of  their  languages.  From  these  races 
the  Indo-Chinese  are  descended  by  regular  gradations. 

In  proceeding  to  classify  the  aboriginal  races  of  India,  that 
is,  races  distinct  from  the  Hindoos,  and  with  languages  quite 
diflferent  from  the  Sanscrit,  he  remarks :  '^  It  must  be  allowed 
that  the  constituting  of  such  a  department  of  nations  indicates 
the  imperfection  of  ethnology."  These  races  are  the  Sin- 
ghalese, the  Tamulian,  tribes  in  the  Dekhan,  and  petty  bar- 
barous tribes  between  the  Indian  and  the  Indo-Chinese  penin- 
sulas. All  these  are  supposed  to  have  descended  from  the 
northeast  before  the  time  when  the  Hindoos,  of  Indo-European 
descent,  crossed  the  Indus. 

The  Caucasian  languages  indicate  marks  of  ancient  connec- 
tion with  the  dialects  of  Northern  Siberia.  It  is  also  supposed 
that  the  Georgian  language  is  reducible  into  the  Indo-Euro- 
pean family  of  languages.  The  language  of  the  Libyans  is 
Semitic.  But  our  analysis  of  his  ^'  Distribution  of  Nations '* 
will  degenerate  into  a  mere  catalogue  of  tribes.  It  forms 
a  cumulative  argument,  whose  force  and  bearing  upon  the 
theory  of  unitv  he  displays  in  a  chapter  entitled  "  General 
Observations  deduced  from  the  preceding  survey  of  human 
races."  Before  proceeding  to  that  we  will  notice  only  some 
of  the  most  striking  facts  that  he  has  collected.  He  proves, 
for  instance,  the  identity  of  the  Fulah  race  of  Senegambia  with 
the  Felatahs  of  Central  Africa.  To  substantiate  such  facts  is 
important  in  proportion  to  the  existing  dissimilarity  of  the 
races.  It  shows  how  possible  it  is  that  the  widest  extremes 
may  have  issued  from  a  common  origin;  consequently  the 
direction  of  such  facts  is  favorable  to  the  establishment  of 
unity  of  origin  for  all  human  varieties,  since  no  counteracting 
tendency  has  been  discovered.  He  proves  that  the  African 
nations  agree  in  no  particular  character  which  misht  indicate 
for  them  a  special  origin,  that  is,  origin  from  a  distinct  and 
appropriate  pair ;  but  the  continent  presents  zones  of  varieties 
which  shade  oflf  into  each  other  like  the  colors  of  the  spectrum. 
In  fact,  he  attempts  to  create  a  sliding  scale  of  variety,  on 
every  degree  of  which  a  characteristic  may  be  placed,  giving, 
by  its  total  effect,  the  impression  that  circumstances  have  been 
the  fertile  cause  of  all  human  diversities. 


1849,]         Prichard'B  Natural  m$tory  of  Man.  488 

The  raees  of  Oceanioa,  great  as  their  physical  difference 
may  be,  are  found  to  give  complete  proof  of  unity  of  descent ; 
and  their  diversities  cannot  be  explsuned  Trithout  supposing 
that  they  were  spontaneous.  The  Malays  are  shaded  off  into 
the  Polynesians. 

He  dates  the  e^stence  of  the  American  tribes  as  a  disdnct 
and  insulated  race,  as  far  back  as  the  time  when  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  Old  World  were  separated  into  nations,  and  each 
branch  of  them  flaked  off  into  its  primitive  language  and 
individuality.  The  unity  of  descent  of  the  American  tribes 
is  rendered  highly  probable  by  the  similarity  of  grammatical 
construction  that  their  languages  present.  This  is  a  much 
more  radical  bond  of  union  than  those  verbal  analogies,  often 
£Euiciful,  which  travellers  draw  up  in  columns.  Similarity  of 
construction  proves  relationship  between  two  languages  that 
have  no  word  in  common.  Ethnography  finds  identities  in  the 
philological,  as  well  as  in  all  the  other  departments,  where 
men  previously  saw  only  differences. 

The  Nootka-Columbian  is  shown  to  display  a  remote  affinity 
with  the  Azteca-Mexican.  The  South-American  tribes  are 
shown  to  be  peculiarly  unlike  each  other :  this  is  an  important 
fact  in  his  favor,  since  he  has  just  proved  their  undoubted 
affinity.  We  may  expect  to  see  graver  discrepancies  resolve 
themselves  into  some  ancient  and  abstruse  unity.  He  has 
not  given  this  argument  the  prominence  that  it  deserves. 
Indeed,  he  has  left  it  to  be  suggested  by  his  narrative. 

He  displays  a  striking  modification  of  physical  structure  in 
the  case  of  the  Quichua  or  Inca  race.  They  inhabit  table 
lands  from  7,500  to  15,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea. 
At  such  a  height  the  air  is  so  rarefied,  that  the  lungs  must 
inhale  an  additional  volume  at  each  inspiration :  it  follows  that 
they  have  extraordinary  dimensions.  The  cells  are  more 
dilated  :  "  this  dilatation  increases  considerably  the  volume  of 
the  lungs,  consequently  they  must  have,  to  contain  them,  a 
larger  cavity — therefore  the  chest  has  a  capacity  much  larger 
than  in  the  normal  state,  and  finally,  this  great  development 
of  the  chest  elongates  die  trunk  beyond  its  natural  propo^ 
tions,  and  places  it  almost  out  of  harmony  with  the  length  of 
the  extremities,  this  remaining  the  same  as  if  the  chest  had 
preserved  its  natural  dimensions."  And  yet  the  Quichuas  are 
but  a  branch  of  the  American  family  of  nations.  Physical 
diversities  of  less  prominence  need  not,  then,  be  ascribed  to  a 
special  origin. 

NO.  vni.  29 


484  Prichard's  Natural  Stttary  of  Man.  [Sept. 

Id  his  chapter  of  General  Resolts,  above  alladed  to,  he 
points  out  some  inferences  suggested  hj  this  ethnographical 
outline.  We  find  that  we  have  anticipated  some  of  mese : 
others  we  will  briefly  give. 

^  All  the  diversities  which  exist  are  variable,  and  pass  into  each 
other  bj  insensible  gradations ;  and  there  is,  moreover,  scarcely 
an  instance  in  which  the  actual  transition  cannot  be  proved  to  have 
taken  place." 

Each  particular  tjpe  of  the  skeleton  and  skull  undergoes  devi- 
ations, and  passes  into  other  forms.  '^The  shape  of  the  head 
varies  in  particular  tribes  of  a  nation,  and  even  in  the  same  tribe.'' 

^  With  respect  to  color,  it  is  still  more  easy  to  trace  the  great* 
est  variations  within  the  limits  of  one  race.  Under  this  head  it 
would  be  quite  fair  to  take  the  whole  Indo-European  funilj  of 
nations  as  an  example,  since  from  one  identical  stock  must  have 
sprung  the  Gothic,  the  Iranian  races,  and  the  Arian  stem  of  India, 
including  the  Xanthous  Siah-Pdsh  of  Kafirstan,  the  yellow-haired 
and  blue-eved  villagers  of  Jumnotri  and  Gangotri  and  the  black 
Hindoos  of  Anu-gangam." 

^  In  mankind  we  £id  the  texture  of  the  hair  in  every  gradation 
of  variety :  and  if  we  take  the  black  tribes  who  are  apparently  of 
genuine  native  origin  as  one  body,  we  shall  discover  among  them 
every  possible  gradation,  from  the  short,  close  curls  of  the  Kafir  to 
the  crisp  but  bushy  locks  of  the  Berberine,  and  again  to  the  flow- 
ing hair  of  the  black  Tuaryk,  or  Tibbo.  In  some  instances,  indeed, 
it  appears  that  the  change  from  one  to  the  other  may  be  shown 
in  actual  transition,** 

This  finishes  his  investigation  of  anatomical  and  external 
bodily  characters. 

in.  2.  Physiological  changes.  ^  The  average  duration  of  hu- 
man life  is  nearly  the  same  in  the  different  races  of  men.  Even 
in  difierent  climates  the  tendency  to  exist  for  a  given  time  is  the 
same.'' 

''The  specific  temperature  of  the  body  is  the  same,  or  nearly  so, 
in  all  the  races  of  men.  There  is  no  remarkable  difference  in  the 
frequency  of  the  pulse,  or  any  of  the  other  vital  functions,  between 
difierent  tribes." 

The  period  appointed  by  nature  for  marriage  does  not  vary 
in  difierent  climates.  The  periods  of  life  at  which  the  princi- 
pal changes  take  place  are  just  the  same  among  Oriental  na- 
tions, for  instance,  as  in  Europe. 

<*  The  difference  of  climate  occasions  very  little,  if  any,  impor- 
tant diversity  as  to  the  periods  of  life  and  the  physical  changes  to 


1849.]  Prichard's  Nat;wtal  HUtary  of  Mm.  486 

which  the  human  constitation  is  suhject;  and  in  all  these  great 
regulations  of  the  animal  economy,  mankind,  whether  white  or 
black,  are  placed  by  nature  nearly  on  an  equal  footing." 

To  show  how  transportation  to  a  particular  climate  affects 
races  alike^  independently  of  their  organization,  he  says : 

^The  natives  of  Sierra  Leone  sustain  comparatively  little  incon- 
venience from  their  climate,  though  it  is  destructive  to  Europeans. 
That  this  is  not  owing  to  original  organization,  we  collect  frcmi  the 
fiict,  of  which  we  are  assured  by  an  intelligent  physician,  long 
resident  in  the  colony,  that  the  free  N^roes  who  were  brought 
from  Nova-Scotia,  and  whose  ancestors  had  been  generally  resi- 
dent for  some  generations  in  a  very  different  climate  from  that  oi 
Sierra  Leone,  are  subject  to  the  same  diseases  as  Europeans.** 
There  are  numerous  examples  of  similar  acclimatization."  ^  This 
process  requires  many  generations  to  bring  it  about ;  but  when 
once  produced,  the  new  characters  are  hereditary  and  impressed 
upon  the  race." 

This  finishes  the  department  of  Physiolo^cal  Changes. 

m.  3.  Psychological  Alterations.  ''One  common  mind,  or 
psychical  nature,  belongs  to  the  whole  human  family.  When  we 
consider  that  the  habits  of  men  are  so  changed,  in  some  races 
whose  past  and  present  state  comes  within  the  sphere  of  history, 
the  Russians  and  Glermans,  for  instance,  we  cannot  presume  to 
determine  that  the  universal  differences  may  not  have  been  the 
result  of  circumstances  favoring  the  progressive  development  of 
one  race,  and,  in  other  instances,  preventing  it,  or  forcing  a  tribe 
already  civilized  to  return  to  the  brutality  of  savage  life." 

The  most  powerful  argument  for  psychological  unity  resides 
in  a  comparison  of  the  aboriginal  superstitions  and  doctrines 
of  the  most  widely  separated  tribes.  Besides  certain  general 
traditions  which  have  strangely  ramified  into  the  most  remote 
places,  there  are  certain  radical  doctrines  or  sentiments  which 
are  found  to  be  universal.  All  men  believe  in  spiritual  agen- 
cies, and,  with  greater  or  less  intelligence,  propitiate  tliem ; 
there  is  a  universal  desire  to  perform  some  sacrifice.  All  men 
believe  in  a  future  state,  and  represent  its  conditions  according 
to  the  degree  of  their  enlightenment.  All  men  believe  in 
moral  goodness,  and  aspire  to  possess  certain  tribal  and  char- 
acteristic virtues,  that  are,  in  truth,  only  stunted  and  neglect- 
ed Beatitudes.  It  is  evident  that  here  is  the  material  out  of 
which  a  civilized  and  Christian  character  may  be  elaborated, 
witii  the  modifications  induced  by  hereditary  and  provincial 


436  Prichard's  Natwral  Eistoiy  of  Man.  [Sept. 

habits.  Therefore  we  should  expect  to  see  ttie  application  of 
Christian  truth  in  the  hands  of  missionaries  so  £ar  successful 
as  to  support  the  argument  for  psjcholo^cal  unity,  hj  estab- 
lishing a  universal  susceptibility.  The  argument  is  greatly 
strengthened  if  we  consent  to  risk  an  examination  of  missionary 
experience  among  the  most  degraded  and  darkened  races, 
rather  than  among  those  who  possess  a  moderate  intelligence. 
The  result  is  very  striking ;  the  labors  of  the  devoted  Mora- 
vians among  the  Esquimaux  and  the  Hottentots,  two  races 
which  occupy  the  humblest  places  on  the  outposts  of  human 
life,  and  the  former  dwelling  on  the  verge  of  mental  as  well  as 
Arctic  desolation,  convince  us  that  God  has  prepared  mankind 
by  a  unity  of  capacity  for  a  unity  of  life.  The  truth  of  the 
Gospel  has  found  warm  and  germinative  soil  beneath  the  sur- 
face-frost ;  it  has  found  the  universal  and  homogeneous  human 
heart,  which  underlies  this  zoned  and  many-colored  map  of 
life.  It  is  the  primitive  formation  which  sustains  numerous 
disruptions  and  strange  collocations,  the  solid  base  upon  which 
diversity  depends.  Psychological  unity  is  cropping  out  every- 
where upon  the  surface,  to  assure  us  that  we  shall  not  quarry 
for  our  comer-stones  in  vain.  In  fact,  the  science  of  ethnol- 
ogy culminates  in  a  truth  that  is  no  less  practical  for  the  moral 
worker  than  it  is  impressive  to  the  scientific  seeker :  there  are 
diversities  of  gifts  hut  the  same  spirit. 

It  shall  be  our  object  to  continue  these  ethnological  researches, 
under  the  hispiration  of  that  central  truth.  We  consider  that 
the  science  has  been  acclimatized  to  our  journal  by  this  brief 
analysis  of  Dr.  Prichard's  work ;  and  we  shall  endeavour  bom 
time  to  time  to  indicate  its  direction,  and  to  suggest  certain 
practical  terminations  which  it  involves.  No  activity  of  the 
human  mind  contains  more  directly  moral  and  regenerative 
purposes  than  this  one.  Almost  every  other  human  science 
is  necessary  to  support  its  existence,  and  it  exceeds  them  aU, 
as  it  combines  them  all,  by  demonstrating  the  moral  order  of 
the  universe.  No  other  intelligent  results  of  human  thought 
have  done  so  much  to  authenticate  the  words.  There  shall  be 
one  fold  and  one  shepherd,  —  or  to  project  upon  them  a  char- 
acter of  universal  prophecy ;  and  no  other  science  provides  us 
with  agencies  that  will  more  surely  cooperate  with  abstract 
truth  to  produce  that  great  result. 

Before  leaving  the  subiect  we  wish  to  call  the  attention  of 
our  readers  to  "The  Ethnologic^  Jotimal;  a  Magazine  of 
Ethnography,  Phrenology,  and  Archaeology,  considered  as 


1849.]  Prescott's  Ctm^piut  of  Mexico.  487 

elements  of  iihe  Science  of  Races.  Edited  by  Luke  Burke, 
Esq.,  London,  and  J.  Wiley,  New  York.'*  It  deserves  a  bet- 
ter notice  than  we  can  afford  to  ^ve  it  now,  but  the  patronage 
of  all  those  who  are  interested  in  this  science  will  doubtless 
be  the  most  welcome  thing  to  offer.  We  trust  our  readers 
are  ahready  acquainted  wit£  the  two  interesting  and  valuable 
volumes  entitled  ^^  Transactions  of  the  American  Etymological 
Society/' 


Aet.  rV.  —  History  of  the  Conquest  of  Mexico.  With  a 
Preliminary  View  of  the  Ancient  Mexican  Civilization^ 
and  the  Life  of  the  Conqueror^  Hernando  Cortes.  By 
William  H.  Prescott,  author  of  the  "  History  of  Ferdi- 
nand and  Isabella,"  &;c.,  &c.  In  three  volumes.  New 
York.    1844. 

♦ 
Aftbb  Mr.  Prescott  had  finished  his  History  of  the  Beign 
of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  noticed  in  a  former  number  of  this 
ioumal,*  several  important  subjects  seemed  naturally  to  claim 
his  attention :  these  were  the  discovery  of  America,  and  the 
Beign  of  Charles  V .  But  the  first  of  these  had  already  been 
described  by  the  graceful  pen  of  Mr.  Irving,  adorning  what 
it  touches ;  the  second  had  been  treated  by  Dr.  Bobertson  in 
a  work  of  great  though  declining  celebrity,  and  rendered 
attractive  by  a  pleasing  style,  which  often  conceals  the  su- 
perficiality of  the  author's  research,  the  shallowness  of  his 
political  philosophy,  and  the  inhumanity  of  his  conclusions. 
Few  men  would  wish  to  ent^r  the  literary  career,  and  run  the 
race  with  such  distinguished  rivals.  A  broader  field  yet 
remained,  more  interesting  to  the  philosopher  and  the  lover  of 
mankind  ;  namely,  the  Conquest  and  Colonization  of  America 
by  the  Spaniards.  On  this  theme  Mr.  Prescott  has  written 
two  independent  works,  of  wide  popularity.  Of  the  first  of 
these  we  now  propose  to  speak,  only  premising  what  we  said 
before  in  respect  to  the  ofiSce  and  duty  of  an  historian. 

The  new  world  was  discovered  in  the  reign  of  Ferdinand 
and  Isabella ;  its  islands  and  continents,  though  not  for  the 

•  No.  YL,  for  March,  1S49,  p.  215  et  seq. 


488  PresooU's  Conq^Uit  of  MeaAeo.  [Sept- 

first  time,*  liud  open  to  the  eye  of  civiliied  Europe.  The 
greater  part  of  America  was  found  to  be  thinly  peopled  by  a 
dngle  race  of  men,  different  in  many  respects  from  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  eastern  hemisphere.  A  large  part  of  the  new 
world  was  inhabited  by  tribes,  not  only  not  ciTilised,  bot  not 
even  barbarous;  the  nations  were  eminently  savage,  though 
most  of  them  were  bx  removed  from  the  lowest  stage  of  hu- 
man life,  still  represented  by  the  Esquimaux,  the  New  Hol- 
landers, and  the  Bushmans  of  South  Africa.  The  French,  the 
English,  and  the  Dutch,  in  their  North  American  settlements, 
came  in  contact  with  the  barbarous  portion  of  the  nations,  who 
had  a  little  agriculture,  it  is  true,  but  subsisted  chiefly  on  the 
spontaneous  products  of  the  forest  and  the  flood.  But  some 
tribes  had  advanced  far  beyond  this  state :  some  had  ceased 
to  be  barbarous.  There  was  an  mdigenous  and  original  civili- 
zation in  America.  Attempts  have  often  been  made  to  trace 
tins  civilization  to  the  old  world ;  to  connect  it  now  with  the 
Tyrians,  now  with  the  Egyptians,  and  then  with  the  Hebrews 
or^roving  Tartars.  Sometimes  the  attempt  has  been  guided 
by  philologv,  which  makes  language  the  basis  of  comparison  ; 
sometimes  bv  physiology,  and  scientific  men  have  sought  in 
the  bodies  of  the  red  Americans  to  discover  some  trace  of  the 
stock  they  sprung  from ;  sometimes  by  theology,  wluch  seeks 
the  affinity  indicated  by  kindred  forms  of  religion.  But  com- 
monly inquirers  have  started  with  the  theological  prejudice 
tiiat  all  men  are  descended  from  the  smgle  primitive  pair 
mentioned  in  the  Hebrew  myth,  and  have  bent  philology, 
{d^rsiology,  and  theology  to  conform  to  their  gratuitous  as- 
sumption. Hitherto  these  attempts  have  been  in  vam.  Even 
the  lamented  Mr.  Prichard,  who  had  this  theological  prejudice 
in  the  heroic  degree,  —  small  for  an  English  theologian,  in- 
deed, but  ^at  for  a  philosopher,  as  he  certunly  was,  a 
prejudice  which  appears  throughout  his  researches  into  the 
physical  hbtory  of  mankind, — fsdls  to  connect  the  American 
civilization  with  that  of  any  other  race.  We  therefore  take 
it  for  granted,  in  the  present  stage  of  the  inquiry,  that  it  was 
original  and  indigenous.  Geologists  inform  us  that  the  west- 
em  continent  appears  older  than  the  eastern.  If  it  be  so, 
perhaps  the  American  aborigines  are  the  oldest  race  now  in 
existence,  and  may  look  down  on  the  bearded  and  pale  Cau- 
casians as  upstarts  in  the  world.    K  this  be  true,  the  red  man 

*  MoMMchMtOM  QitarUrly  Rtmiw^  No.  YL,  Article  IH 


1849.]  Prescott's  Oanquut  of  Meaieo.  489 

has  not  advanced  so  rapidly  in  civilisation  as  the  white :  this 
seems  owing  to  the  inferior  organization  of  the  former,  and 
also  to  the  absence  of  swine,  sheep,  horses,  oxen,  and  large 
animals  capable  of  bemg  tamed,  which  in  the  eastern  continent 
have  so  powerfully  aided  the  progress  of  civilization.  The 
man  who  would  tame  the  sheep  and  the  ox,  must  tame  also 
himself.  The  domestication  of  animals,  those  living  machines 
of  an  earlier  age,  once  promoted  the  progress  of  civilization 
as  much  as  the  invention  of  machinery  at  this  day.  The 
camel,  the  ship  of  the  desert,  and  the  steamboat,  the  ship  of 
the  sea,  have  each  something  to  do  in  ferrying  man  out  of 
barbarism. 

After  the  discovery  of  America,  the  Spaniard  soon  came  m 
contact  with  the  more  advanced  tribes  of  red  men,  contended 
with  and  overcame  them,  partly  in  virtue  of  hb  superior  devet 
opment,  but  partiy  also  through  the  aboriginal  and  organic 
superiority  which  marks  the  Gaucadan  race  in  all  historical 
stages  of  their  progress,  and  appears  in  every  conffict  with 
any  kindred  race.  This  indigenous  American  civilization  had 
two  centres,  or  mother-cities,  mainly  independent  of  one  an- 
other, if  not  entirely  so — Mexico  and  Peru.  The  chief  seats 
thereof  were  soon  reached  bv  the  Spaniards,  and  conquered ; 
the  advanced  tribes  reduced  to  subjection,  to  slavery,  or  to 
death.  The  European  brought  there  two  thmgs,  wholly  un- 
heard of  before  —  the  doctrines  of  Christianity  and  a  sword 
of  steel,  each  tiiought  to  be  the  aJly  of  the  other  in  the  con- 
queror's hand. 

Here  is  a  theme  more  important,  and  therefore  more  pro* 
foundly  interesting,  than  the  Lives  of  Columbus  and  his  fol- 
lowers,  or  the  Beign  of  Charles  the  fifth,  though  both  of  those 
bring  great  events  before  the  thinker's  eye;  —  certainly  the 
biography  of  Columbus,  of  Amerigo,  Cabot,  and  Yerrazzani, 
wodd  offer  an  attractive  field  to  a  thinking  man.  A  philo- 
sophic historian  would  delight  in  a  land  newly  discovered.  Its 
geography,  botany,  and  zoology  were  all  new  to  the  eastern 
worid ;  there  were  tribes  unheard  of  before,  with  a  peculuur 
physical  structure,  language,  literature,  manners,  arts,  laws, 
mstitutions,  and  forms  of  reU^on  unlike  the  old.  It  were  a 
noble  task  for  the  naturalist  to  describe  this  vir^  America, 
as  she  appeared  in  the  fifteenth  century,  when  she  first  stood 
unveiled  before  the  European  eye. 

In  ages  before  the  historical  period,  the  Caucasian  race 
had  taken  possesion  <^  the  iw^t  portions  of  the  ancient 


440  Prcscott's  Conquest  of  MeanetK  [Sept 

world.  Now,  for  the  first  time  daring  many  ages,  on  a  grand 
scale  it  encounters  another  race.  For  the  first  time  in  human 
history,  the  white  man  and  the  red  man  fiurly  meet.  These 
two  fSEunilies  so  dissimilar  in  natural  character,  so  unlike  in  their 
development,  now  loin  in  war,  in  wedlock,  and  at  length  min- 
gle in  political  umon.  Ethnographers  of  this  day  somewhat 
obscurely  maintain  that  the  mingling  of  tribes,  if  not  races,  is 
an  essential  condition  of  progress.  It  would  be  instructive  to 
pause  over  the  facts,  and  consider  what  influence  in  tiiis  case 
each  race  has  had  on  the  other,  and  their  union  on  the  worid. 
Never  before  in  the  historical  age  had  two  races  thus  met,  nor 
two  independent  civilizations,  with  modes  of  religion  so  dissim- 
ilar, thus  come  together.  In  the  great  wars  which  the  classic 
nations  engaged  in,  the  two  parties  were  commonly  of  the  same 
stock.  Even  in  the  expeditions  of  Sesostris,  of  Xerxes,  and  of 
Alexander,  it  was  Caucasian  that  met  Caucasian.  The  same  is 
true,  perhaps  in  its  full  extent,  of  the  expeditions  of  Hannibal 
and  of  the  Moors.  In  all  the  wars  from  that  of  Troy  to  the 
Crusades,  the  heroes  on  both  sides  were  of  the  same  stock. 
The  nations  that  we  meet  in  history,  from  Thule  to  the  '^  fabu- 
lous Hydaspes,"  all  are  Caucasians — differing  indeed  in  devel- 
opment and  specific  character,  but  alike  in  their  great,  general 
peculiarities.  Other  races  appear  only  in  the  background  of 
history,  among  the  classic,  the  Shemitish,  or  the  i^t-Indian 
nations ;  but  seldom  even  there,  and  not  as  actors  in  the  great 
drama  of  human  civilization. 

The  Spanish  colonies  afford  the  best  known  example  of  the 
mingling  of  men  of  different  races.  The  Anglo-Saxon  is 
^minentlv  Caucasian:  he  also  met  the  red  men.  But  the 
Saxon,  though  like  other  conquerors  forgetting  his  dignity  in 
loose  amours,  will  not  mix  his  proud  blood,  in  stable  wedlock, 
with  another  race.  There  seems  a  national  antipathy  to  such 
umons  with  the  black,  or  even  the  red,  or  yellow  races  of  men 
—  an  antipathy  almost  peculiar  to  this  remarkable  tribe,  the 
exterminator  of  other  races.  In  New  England  more  pains 
were  taken  than  elsewhere  in  America  to  spare,  to  civilize, 
and  to  convert  the  sons  of  the  wilderness ;  but  yet  here  the 
distinction  of  race  was  always  sharply  observed.  Even  com- 
munity of  religion  and  liturgical  rites,  elsewhere  so  powerful 
a  bond  of  union,  was  unable  to  soften  the  Englishman's  repug- 
nance to  the  Indian.  The  Puritan  hoped  to  meet  the  Pequods 
in  heaven,  but  wkhed  to  keep  iq)art  from  them  on  earth,  nay, 
to  exterminate  them  from  the  land.    Besides,  the  English  met 


1849.]  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico.  441 

with  no  civilized  tribe  in  America,  and  for  them  to  unite  in 
wedlock  with  such  childreu  of"  the  forest  as  they  found  in 
North  America  would  have  been  contrary*  not  only  to  the 
Anglo-Saxon  prejudice  of  race,  but  to  the  general  usa^e  of 
Uie  world  —  a  usage  to  which  oven  tho  French  in  Canada 
afford  but  a  trifling  exception.  Tho  Spaniards  had  leas  of  this 
cKcluaivGness  of  racej  perhaps  nono  at  alL  They  met  with 
civiti:eod  tribes  of  red  men,  met  and  mingled  in  honorable  and 
permanent  connection.  In  Pcni  and  Mesico,  at  this  day, 
there  arc  few  men  of  pure  Spanish  blood. 

All  the  historical  forms  of  religion  which  have  prevailed  in 
Europe,  and  tho  parta  of  Asia  inhabited  by  tbo  Caucasians, 
fie  em  to  have  sprung  from  a  common  stock.  Perhaps  this  is 
not  true*  bnt  at  least  their  reserablancea  may  often  he  ac* 
counted  for  by  reference  t^j  some  actual  union,  to  their  histar^ 
ical  genealogy  ;  not  wholly  by  reference  to  Human  Nature ; 
their  agreement  is  specific,  not  merely  generic.  But  die  forms 
of  religion  that  prevailed  in  America  seem  to  have  no  histor- 
ical element  in  common  wHth  those  of  tlie  eafltern  Viorld. 
When  they  agree,  as  they  often  do,  and  in  their  most  impor- 
tant features,  the  agreement  is  generic,  iTferrihIe  to  the  iden- 
tity of  Human  Nature  acting  under  similar  conditions ;  it  is 
not  specific,  or  to  be  exjJained  by  reference  to  history,  to 
community  of  tradition.  It  is  the  aame  Human  Nature  which 
appears  in  all  races,  and  acconlingly  many,  egpecially  religious, 
institutions  have  a  marked  likenesa  all  over  the  world,  but  the 
individual  peculiarity  of  each  race  appears  also  in  those 
institutions*  The  civilization  of  the  Caucasian  tribes  in  the 
eastern  world,  powerfully  aficctcd  by  their  rcHgious  iustitu* 
tions,  seems  to  have  been  propagated  by  oflfiets  and  cuttings 
from  some  primeval  tree,  and  only  modi^ed  by  circumstances 
and  degrees  of  development ;  so  there  is  an  historical  elem<^nt 
common  to  all  thoae  nations.  It  appears  in  their  manners, 
dress,  and  military  weapons  \  in  their  agiiculture,  from  tho 
east  to  tho  west,  where  tho  samo  staple  articles  of  cuUure 
appear,  and  the  same  animals — the  cereal  grasses,  the  sheep, 
tiie  goat,  the  swine,  the  horse,  and  the  ox ;  in  their  arts,  use- 
ful and  beautiful  \  in  their  politics,  their  morals,  their  forms  of 
religion ;  in  their  literature,  and  even  in  the  structure  of  their 
language  itself,  so  deef>rooted  is  tlie  idiosyncrasy  of  race.  In 
America,  to  judge  irom  the  present  state  of  ethnographio 
investigation,  5t  seems  that  another  seed,  independent  and 
likcwbc  aborigtnali  got  planted,  came  up,  grew^  and  bore  fruit 


442  Prescott'g  Conquest  of  Mexico.  [Sept. 

after  its  kind.  This  also  was  propagated  hj  cuttings  and 
oflbets,  so  to  say ;  its  descendants  had  spread  from  the  land  of 
the  Esquimaux  to  Patagonia.  Here,  as  in  the  other  hemi- 
sphere, the  race  became  specifically  modified  bv  external  cir- 
cumstances, and  the  degree  of  development.  Still  there  is  a 
generic  element  common  to  all  the  tribes  of  America,  running 
tiirough  their  civilization,  and  apparent  in  their  institutions. 
The  idiosyncrasy  of  race  appears  here  also,  conspcuous  and 
powerful  as  there. 

This  diversity  of  race  and  the  analogous  difierence  between 
the  two  civilizations  brought  into  such  close  connection,  renders 
the  history  of  the  Spanish  settlements  in  America  exceedingly 
interesting  to  a  plnlosophical  inquirer:  the  English  colonies 
are  interesting  on  account  of  the  Ideas  they  brought  hitiier 
and  developed,  and  the  influence  those  ideas  have  had  (m 
the  world ;  the  Spanish  settiements  are  chiefly  interesting  on 
account  of  the  Facts  they  bring  to  light.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, it  becomes  the  duty  of  the  historian,  who  will  write 
a  book  worthy  of  his  theme,  to  note  the  effect  of  this  min- 
gling of  races  and  of  civilizations ;  he  is  not  merely  to  tell 
who  was  killed,  and  who  wounded,  on  which  side  of  tiie  river 
each  one  fought,  and  how  deep  the  water  was  between  them, 
or  how  bloody  it  ran ;  he  is  to  describe  the  civilization  of  the 
nations,  ^ving,  however  briefly,  all  the  important  features 
thereof,  and  then  show  the  effect  of  ihe  meeting  of  the  two. 

More  than  three  centuries  have  passed  by  sance  the  Mexican 
conquest  was  complete.  During  that  time  great  revolutions 
have  taken  place  in  tiie  world,  —  tiieological,  political,  and 
social.  A  great  progress  has  been  made  in  the  arts,  in  sci- 
ence, in  morals  and  religion, — in  the  subjective  development 
thereof  as  piety,  the  objective  application  to  life  in  the  form  of 
practical  mondity.  But  the  Spanish-Americans  have  but  a 
small  share  in  that  progress ;  they  seem  to  have  done  nothing 
to  promote  it.  They  have  not  kept  pace  with  the  Anglo- 
American  colonies ;  not  even  with  tiie  French.  It  is  pretty 
clear  that  the  population  of  Spanish  North  America  —  conti- 
nental and  insular — is  less  numerous  now  than  when  Columbus 
first  crossed  the  sea.  The  condition  of  the  Americans  in  many 
respects  is  improved.  Still  it  may  be  reasonably  doubted  if 
the  population  of  Mexico  is  happier  to  day  than  four  hundred 
years  ago.  What  is  the  cause  of  this :  have  the  two  races 
Deen  weakened  by  their  union ;  were  tiie  Mexicans  incapable 
of  further  advance ;  or  were  the  Spaniards  unable  to  lud  them  ? 


1849.]  Prescott's  ConqueH  of  Mmeo.  443 

The  Europeans  gave  the  Indian  most  yaloable  material  helps  to 
civilisation — cattle,  swine,  sheep,  goats,  asses,  horses,  oxen,  the 
cereal  grasses  of  the  East,  iron,  and  gunpowder ;  ideal  helps 
also  in  the  doctrines  of  Christianity ;  —  Uie  machinery  of  the 
old  world.  In  another  work,  Mr.  rrescott  declares  the  Moor- 
ish civilization  incapable  of  continuing,  as  it  had  in  its  bosom 
the  causes  of  its  ruin.  Is  the  same  thing  true  of  the  Spanish 
civilization  ?  Surely,  it  cannot  stand  before  the  slow,  strong, 
steady  wave  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  tide,  which  seems  destmed 
ere  long  to  sweep  it  o^  or  hide  it  in  its  own  ample  bosom. 
The  consequence  is  always  in  the  cause ;  there  but  hidden. 
The  historian  of  the  conquest  of  Mexico,  writing  so  long  after 
the  events  he  chronicles,  while  those  consequences  are  patent 
to  all  the  world,  might  describe  to  us  the  cause ;  nay,  the 
history  is  not  adequately  written  until  this  is  done.  Without 
this,  a  work  is  history  without  its  meaning — without  philoso- 
phy. We  must  complain  of  Mr.  Prescott's  work,  in  general, 
that  he  has  omitted  this  its  most  important  part.  True,  he 
was  only  writing  of  the  conquest  of  the  country  and  the 
immediate  colonization ;  but  tUs  is  not  adequately  described 
until  the  other  work  is  done. 

Not  only  has  Mr.  Prescott  an  attractive  theme  —  obvious 
tBLCta  and  glittering,  deeds,  to  attract  all  men  and  satisfv  the 
superficial,  and  larger,  more  general  &ctB  of  a  profound  sig* 
nificance,  to  pause  upon  and  explain  —  but  the  materials  for 
his  work  are  abundant.  There  are  the  narratives  of  men 
personally  engaged  in  the  expeditions  they  write  of — men 
like  Bemal  Diaz  and  Oomara ;  official  documents  like  the  let- 
ters of  Cortes ;  early  histories,  as  that  of  Solis ;  works  on  the 
antiquities  of  Mexico,  like  that  of  Olavigero,  and  the  magnif- 
icent volumes  published  by  Lord  Eang^borough.  Then  there 
are  works  written  by  men  themselves  descended  from  the 
Mesdcans.  In  addition  to  printed  volumes,  Mr.  Prescott  has 
richly  supplied  himself  with  such  manuscript  treasures  of 
Spanish  history  as  few  American  eyes  ever  behold.  He  has 
at  his  command  about  eight  thousand  folio  pages  of  the  works 
of  Las  Casas,  Ixtlilxochiti,  Toribio,  Camargo,  Oviedo,  and 
others.  Public  luid  private  collections  abroad  have  been 
opened  to  him  with  just  and  scholarlike  liberality. 

If  we  divide  Mr.  Prescott's  work  according  to  its  substance, 
it  conasts  of  three  parts :  —  the  first  relates  to  Mexico,  its 
inhabitants  and  their  civilisation ;  the  second  to  the  conquest 


444  Prescott's  Conque$t  of  Mexico.  [Sept. 

of  Mexico  ;  and  the  third  to  the  subsequent  career  of  Cortes. 
In  respect  of  its  form,  the  volumes  are  divided  into  seven 
books,  treating  respectively  of  the  Aztec  civilization,  of  the 
discovery  of  Mexico,  the  march  thither,  the  residence  there, 
the  expulsion  thence,  the  siege  and  surrender  of  the  city,  and 
the  subsequent  career  of  Cortes.  A  valuable  appendix  is 
added,  and  a  copious  index,  the  latter  quite  too  uncommon  in 
American  books. 

This  history  has  been  so  much  admired,  so  widely  circulated 
in  America  and  Europe,  and  so  abundantly  read,  that,  as  in 
the  former  article,  we  shall  take  it  for  granted  that  our  readers 
are  familiar  with  the  work,  and  spare  them  our  analysis 
thereof.  We  shall  also  presuppose  that  the  well  informed 
reader  is  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  writings  of  Diaz  and 
Soils,  with  the  printed  works  of  Las  Casas,  with  Clavigero, 
Herrera,  and  the  original  accounts  published  at  Madrid,  a  hun- 
dred years  ago,  in  the  collection  of  "  Historiadores  primitivos." 

We  now  propose  to  examine  this  history  of  the  conquest  of 
Mexico  somewhat  in  detail,  and  to  say  a  word  of  each  of  the 
three  grand  divisions  of  the  subject.  We  will  speak  first  of 
the  Civilization  of  the  Aztecs.  Sir.  Prescott's  account  of  the 
geography  of  Mexico,  with  his  description  of  the  country,  is 
attractive  and  graphic.  It  seems  to  be  sufficient;  we  only 
regret  the  absence  of  a  more  extended  map.  With  only  the 
ordinary  maps  the  reader  is  often  puzzled  in  trying  to  make 
out  the  exact  position  of  a  place,  and  accordingly  he  cumot 
always  understand  the  account  of  a  battle  or  the  description 
of  a  march.  The  two  small  maps  (in  Vols.  I.  and  II.)  are  . 
of  great  service,  and  were  prepared  with  much  care,  but  are 
not  adequate  to  render  all  parts  of  the  text  intelligible :  thus 
Itztapalapan  (Vol.  III.,  p.  6,)  is  said  to  stand  "  on  a  narrow 
tongue  of  land  which  divides  the  waters  of  the  great  salt  lake 
from  those  of  the  fresh/'  while  on  the  map  no  such  narrow 
tongue  exists,  and  the  reader  must  seek  it  in  Clavigero  or 
elsewhere.    But  this  is  a  trifle. 

In  Merico  Mr.  Prescott  finds  four  important  tribes,  or 
**  races."  The  most  conspicuous  of  these  are  the  Toltecs, 
who  came  from  the  North  before  the  end  of  the  seventh  cen- 
tury, and  in  the  eleventh  century  "  disappeared  from  the  land 
as  silently  and  mysteriously  as  they  had  entered  it " ;  the 
Chichemecs,  a  numerous  and  rude  tribe  who  came  from  the 
Nprt^west  in  the  twelfth  century,  and  were  soon  "  followed  by 
other  races  of  higher  civilization,  perhaps  of  the  same  family 


1849.]  Prescott'B  Conquest  of  Mexico.  445 

with  the  Toltecs " ;  the  most  noted  of  these  tribes  were  the 
Aztecs,  or  Mexicans,  and  the  Acolhuans,  or  Tezcucans.  The 
civilization  of  the  Toltecs  was  communicated  to  the  Tezcucans, 
and  by  them  to  the  Chichemecs. 

Of  these  four  tribes — Toltecs,  Chichemecs,  Tezcucans,  and 
Aztecs  —  the  latter  have  become  the  most  celebrated.  They 
are  the  Mexicans,  and  by  that  name  we  shall  designate  them 
in  what  follows.  Afler  encountering  various  fortunes  in  the 
land,  they  came  to  the  valley  of  Mexico  in  the  year  1325, 
A.  D.,  accordmg  to  Mr.  Prescott,  where  they  subsequently 
built  Tenochtitlan,  the  city  of  Mexico.  The  Mexicans  were 
a  warlike  people,  and  in  less  than  two  centuries  their  empire 
extended  from  shore  to  shore.  This  rapid  enlargement  of 
their  power  proves  the  martial  vigor  of  the  tribe,  and  their 
skill  in  forming  political  organizations  —  though  Mr.  Prescott 
seems  to  doubt  their  political  ability.  But  as  the  Mexican 
empire  was  composed  of  several  nations  recently  conquered 
ana  united  almost  entirely  by  external  force,  it  is  plain  it 
contained  heterogeneous  elements  which  might  easily  be  sep- 
arated. Like  the  old  Roman  and  all  other  states  thus  formed, 
it  was  a  piece  of  carpentry,  artificially  held  together  by  out^ 
ward  circumstances,  not  a  regular  growth,  where  the  branch 
grows  out  of  the  bole,  that  out  of  the  root,  and  all  are  united 
by  a  central  principle  and  partake  of  a  common  orig^i  and 
history. 

Mr.  Prescott  devotes  four  chapters  to  the  civilization  of 
Mexico,  and  one  to  Tezcuco.  His  materials  are  derived 
chiefly  from  Torquemada,  Glavigero,  Sahagun,  Gama,  the 
works  which  have  appeared  in  France  and  England  on  the 
antiquities  of  Mexico,  the  writings  of  Boturini  and  Ixtiilxochitl. 
Of  these  authors  Glavigero  is  the  best  known  to  general 
readers.  Notwithstanding  the  advantage  which  Mr.  Prescott 
has  in  coming  sixty  years  after  the  work  of  Glavigero  was 
published,  we  must  confess  that  on  the  whole  the  earlier  writer 
has  given  the  more  satisfactory  account  of  the  matter.  It  is 
true,  Glavigero  had  space  to  be  minute  and  curious  in  partic- 
ulars,— for  nearly  two  of  his  four  quarto  volumes  are  devoted 
to  the  subject, — but  his  general  arrangement  is  better,  though 
by  no  means  perfect  or  philosophical,  —  following  an  inward 
principle,  —  and  his  account  of  the  Mexican  institutions  is 
on  the  whole  more  distinct  as  well  as  more  complete.  Yet  in 
some  details  Mr.  Prescott  surpasses  his  predecessor. 

Mr.  Prescott  gives  an  account,  sufficientiy  lucid,  of  what 


446  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico.  [Sept. 

may  be  called  the  Constitiition  of  Mexico ;  he  spaks  intelli- 
gentlj  of  the  royal  power,  which  was  both  legislative  and  exec- 
utive. He  gives  a  good  description  of  the  judicial  power, 
certainly  a  very  remarkable  institution  for  such  a  nation,  and 
in  many  respects  a  very  wise  one.  But  his  account  of  the 
nobles,  of  their  power  and  position,  is  meagre  and  unsatisfac* 
tory.  He  does  not  tell  us  how  the  distinction  of  nobility  was 
obtained. 

What  he  says  of  the  penal  laws  is  still  less  satisfactory,  or 
complete.  The  only  punishments  he  mentions  are  death, 
slavery,  reduction  of  rank,  and  confiscation  of  property. 
Clavigero  adds  confinement  in  prison  and  banishment  from 
the  country.  Prisons  as  houses  of  punishment  generally 
indicate  a  higher  civilization  than  the  penalty  of  death,  or 
exile. 

Clavigero  has  given  the  fuller  and  more  satis&ctory  account 
of  the  Mexican  system  of  slavery.  He  mentions  also  one 
important  provision  of  the  penal  law  omitted  by  Mr.  Prescott, 
that  kidnapping  was  punished  with  death. 

Mr.  Prescott's  account  of  the  manner  of  collecting  the 
revenue  is  full  and  clear.  The  same  must  be  siud  of  his 
account  of  the  military  establishment  of  Mexico.  Still  the 
reader  would  be  glad  to  know  whether  the  soldiers  were  vol- 
unteers or  conscripts,  how  they  were  fed,  and  when  successful 
in  war,  what  share  of  the  booty  belonged  to  them.  Clavigero 
mentions  a  significant  fact,  that  there  were  three  militarv 
orders,  called  Princes,  Eagles,  and  Tigers,  (Achautin,  Quauh- 
tin,  and  Ocelo.)  Since  the  two  last  are  titles  of  honor,  as 
well  as  the  first,  they  furnish  an  important  monument  of  the 
ferocity  of  the  nation. 

The  civilization  of  the  Mexicans  has  been  sometimes  exalted 
above  its  merit ;  still  it  is  plain  they  had  attained  a  pretty  high 
degree  of  culture.  Yet  it  differed  in  many  respects  from  that 
of  the  eastern  nations :  it  was  a  civilization  without  the  cereal 
grasses ;  without  wine,  milk,  or  honey  ;  without  swine,  sheep, 
or  goats  ;  without  the  horse  or  the  ass,  or  any  beast  of  bur- 
then ;  civilization  without  iron.  Mexico  seems  to  have  been 
the  centre  of  refinement  for  all  North  America.  Agriculture, 
one  of  the  earliest  arts,  seems  to  have  travelled  northward ; 
the  three  great  staples  thereof  among  the  natives  of  North 
America  in  the  temperate  zone — maize,  beans,  and  various 
species  of  the  pumpkin  or  squash — had  journeyed  from  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico  to  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  and  extended  inland 


1849.]  Preacott's  Cmqae^it  of  Mexico.  447 

to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  covering  a  great  extent  of  country 
where  they  were  not  indigenous,  and  could  not  exist  but  for 
the  care  of  man. 

In  Mexico,  the  fundamental  law  or  constitution  was  fixed 
and  well  understood.  The  monarchy  was  elective  ;  though, 
by  law  or  custom,  the  choice  must  be  made  from  a  certain 
family,  still  the  chief  was  chosen  for  his  personal  qualities. 
Montezuma  was  distinguished  as  a  soldier  and  a  priest — 
compatible  titles  in  manv  a  land  not  otherwise  very  barbarous 
— before  he  was  elected  king.  Throughout  Norm  America, 
there  seems  to  have  been  a  general  custom  of  choosing  the 
ruler  among  the  nephews  rather  than  among  the  sons  of  the 
former  chief. 

The  judicial  power  was  carefully  separated  from  the  execu- 
tive. The  judges  were  appointed  by  the  king  or  chosen  by 
the  p^ple^  and  held  their  office  for  life  or  during  good  behav- 
iour. The  laws  seem  to  have  been  well  administered.  Prop- 
erty was  so  secure  that  bolts  and  bars  were  not  needed.  Life, 
liberty,  and  the  honor  of  women  were  carefully  guarded,  and 
seem  to  have  been  more  secure  than  in  Scotland  at  the  same 
time.  Lands  were  held  in  severalty  and  by  a  certun  tenure. 
Almost  all  men  held  real  estate  in  their  own  right.  Li  the 
most  densely  peopled  re^ons,  there  was  little  land  not  im- 

I)roved ;  far  less  than  at  the  present  day,  as  we  judge.  The 
aw  of  descent  was  fixed,  and  well  understood.  The  right  of 
testament  was  universal. 

Historians  tell  us  that  the  laws  were  written,  and  published 
to  the  people.  We  think  ther^  exaggerate  the  extent  of  a 
written  law,  and  the  power  of  the  Mexicans  to  record  laws 
with  their  imperfect  mode  of  writing.  Perhaps  Mr.  Prescott 
with  others  has  fallen  mto  a  slight  error  in  this  particular, 
though  we  do  not  say  this  with  much  confidence. 

Slavery  prevailed  in  a  mild  form.  Men  became  slaves  by 
judicial  sentence,  as  a  punishment  for  crime,  by  selling  them- 
selves, or  from  being  sold  by  their  parents.  The  slave  could 
hold  property,  real  or  personal,  and  devise  it  to  whom  he 
would ;  he  could  own  ower  slaves.  This  was  not  a  privilege 
which  the  master  might  revoke,  but  a  right  at  common  law. 
The  slave's  life  was,  theoretically,  sacred  as  the  free  man's. 
His  children  were  all  free.  Nobility  was  hereditary,  while 
slavery  was  merelv  a  personal  affidr,  and  did  not  attwit  the 
blood.  Lideed,  the  slave  was  only  a  vassal,  bound  to  render 
certun  services  to  his  feudal  lord.    This  fiM^t  shows  that  the 


448  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Jdexieo.  [Sept. 

nation  had  emerged  from  that  state  where  man  is  so  lazy  that 
onlj  the  slave  can  be  made  to  endure  continuous  toil,  and 
where  Slavery  is  the  chief  handmaid  of  Industry. 

The  penal  laws  were  severe ;  capital  oflTences  were  numer- 
ous. Theft  was  punished  with  death,  as  it  was  until  lately  in 
England,  if  the  property  stolen  exceeded  five  shillings  in  vaJue. 
Imprisonment,  fine,  e:ale,  and  social  degradation  were  legal 
punishments  for  certain  crimes.  The  revenues  of  the  nation 
were  collected  in  a  regular  and  constant  form.  As  in  most 
despotic  countries,  the  taxes  were  enormous ;  but  there  seems 
no  reason  for  supposing  that  they  were  so  excessive  as  they 
have  been  for  many  years  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples ;  perhaps 
they  were  not  proportionately  so  great  as  in  England  at  tins 
day.  Some  of  the  nobles  were  exempt  from  taxation,  but  we 
know  not  whether  this  exemption  was  the  reward  of  some 
extraordinary  service,  or,  as  in  France  before  the  Revolution, 
came  purely  from  the  selfishness  of  that  class,  who  had  the 
power  to  withdraw  their  necks  from  the  conunon  yoke. 

War  was  conducted  in  a  systematic  manner ;  regularly  de- 
clared and  commenced  in  a  formal  style.  The  arts  of  diplo- 
macy were  well  known,  and  the  rights  of  ambassadors  respected. 
The  military  code  was  minute  in  its  provisions.  The  arms  of 
the  Mexicans  were  well  made  and  destructive.  They  used 
shields  of  wood,  and  body  armor  of  quilted  cotton.  They  had 
embattled  fortifications  of  stone,  well  situated  and  constructed 
with  skill.  There  were  military  hospitals  for  the  sick  and 
wounded  soldier — institutions  unknown  to  the  Eastern  world 
till  long  after  the  time  of  Christ ;  hospitals  better  than  the 
Spanish,  and  supplied  with  surgeons  more  faithful. 

Their  cities  were  numerous  and  large,  supi^ed  with  water 
by  aqueducts.  There  were  many  towns  contfiuning  thirty  thou- 
sand inhabitants ;  the  capital  contained  at  least  three  hundred 
thousand.  In  his  second  official  letter,  Cortes  says  that  Tlas- 
cala  was  larger  and  much  stronger  than  Granada  when  taken 
from  the  Moors ;  that  it  had  more  fine  houses,  and  was  better 
supplied  with  provbions.  Thirty  thousand  persons  were  daily 
in  its  markets,  to  buy  and  sell.  He  says  the  exterior  aspect 
of  Cholula  is  more  beautiful  than  any  town  in  Spain.  From 
a  single  temple  (Mezquita,)  he  counted  four  hundred  otiier 
temples  with  towers.  Houses  were  built  of  wood,  of  sun-dried 
bricks,  and  of  stone.  While  in  Sp|un  labor  was  a  disgrace, 
in  Mexico  it  was  held  in  honor.  The  calling  of  a  merchant 
was  honorable,  and  he  sometimes  rose  to  d^tinotion  in  the 


1849.]  Presoott's  Qmquest  of  Mexico.  449 

state,  a  very  remarkaUe  circusistance  in  a  nation  so  warlike. 
Tradmg  in  slaves  seems  to  have  been  as  respectable  among 
the  Gates  of  Mexico  as  of  Rome.  Agriculture  was  held  in 
high  and  deserved  esteem.  The  harder  work  in  the  fields 
was  performed  bv  the  men ;  onlj  the  light  work  fell  to  the 
lot  of  women.  Great  pains  were  taken  with  the  cultivation 
of  flowers :  ornamental  gardening  was  better  understood  in 
Mexico  than  in  Europe.  In  some  places  the  land  was  artifi* 
ciallv  watered,  as  among  the  Moors  in  Spain.  There  were 
floatmg  gardens  on  the  lake  of  Mexico.  In  the  large  cities 
&ere  were  public  gardens  of  great  extent  and  beauty.  Yet, 
though  blessed  with  maize  ana  potatoes,  the  Mexicans  lacked 
the  valuable  staples  of  Eastern  agriculture  —  the  more  useful 
grains,  the  vine,  and  the  olive ;  they  had  no  aid  from  t&e  oz 
or  the  horse  —  not  even  from  the  humbler  servant  of  the 
plough,  the  ass. 

The  mechanics  wrought  with  adroitness  and  good  taste,  in 
wood,  in  stone,  and  in  feather-work.  Their  earthen  ware,  sajs 
Cort^,  was  equal  to  the  best  in  SpaiA.  Cotton  was  manufac- 
tured and  dyed  with  taste  and  skill.  Gold  and  silver  were 
abundant,  and  wrought  with  a  dexterity  which  rivalled  the  best 
works  of  Venice  and  Seville,  astonishing  the  artists  of  Europe. 
They  used  also  copper,  lead,  and  tin.  It  has  been  said  —  we 
doubt  if  correctly  —  that  they  did  not  know  the  power  of  fire 
to  render  metals  more  pliant  under  the  hammer.  Iron  waa 
unknown :  in  its  place  their  cutting  instruments  were  made  of 
obsidian,  (itzli)  a  stone  which  takes  a  keen  edge,  though  it  is 
easily  blunted.  For  money  they  used  gold-dust,  bits  of  tin, 
and  bags  of  cacao. 

The  public  roads  excited  the  admiration  of  the  Spaniards, 
and  wore  probably  better  than  they  left  at  home.  Runners 
went  with  such  speed,  that  despatches  were  carried  one  or  two 
hundred  miles  in  a  day.  Buildings  were  erected  along  the 
road  side  for  their  accommodation.  Indeed,  couriers  went  with 
such  rapidity,  that  fish  were  caught  in  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and 
in  twenty-four  hours  were  two  hundred  miles  off,  in  the  kitchen 
of  Montezuma. 

There  were  botanic  gardens  m  several  Mexican  cities,  where 
the  plants  were  scientifically  arranged.  Cortes  mentions  one 
two  leagues  in  circumference;  it  contained  an  aviary,  —  for 
Mexico  is  the  country  of  birds,  as  Africa  of  beasts,  —  and 
basins  stocked  with  numerous  vacieties  of  fish.  At  that  time 
such  gardens  were  unknown  in  Europe. 

NO.  vm.  30 


450  Prescott's  ConqaeBt  of  Mexico.  [Sept. 

The  Mexicans  had  attained  a  considerable  proficiency  in 
science.  Thej  had  a  peculiar  system  of  notation,  counting  by 
scores  and  not  by  tens : — first  they  took  the  five  digits  of  one 
hand,  then  of  the  next,  and  in  like  manner  the  ten  digits  of 
the  feet.  They  had  made  a  measurement  of  the  year  more 
exact  than  that  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  Their  week  con- 
sisted of  five  days;  four  weeks,  or  twenty  days,  made  a  month. 
There  were  eighteen  months  in  the  year,  and  then  five  days 
were  intercalated  that  belonged  to  no  month.  Thus  their 
common  civil  year  consbted  of  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 
days.  But  in  every  one  hundred  and  four  years,  it  is  said, 
they  intercalated  twenty-five  days  which  belonged  to  no  year. 
Thus  their  calendar  was  exceedingly  exact,  and  in  many  years 
there  would  be  no  important  difference  between  actual  and 
calculated  time.  Their  day  was  divided  into  sixteen  hours ; 
they  had  sun-dials  for  time-pieces ;  they  understood  the  causes 
of  an  eclipse,  and  knew  the  periods  of  the  solstices  and  the 
equinoxes. 

Women  shared  in  social  festivities  with  the  men.  Polygamy 
was  allowed,  as  throughout  all  North  America,  and  as  wi&  the 
Hebrews  before  Christ ;  wealthy  men,  and  especially  kings, 
had  many  wives ;  yet  the  custom  seems  limited  to  such,  as 
indeed  it  must  have  been  everywhere. 

The  languages  of  the  various  nations  of  Mexico  were  re- 
markable for  Siat  peculiarity  called  agglutination  by  philolo- 
gists, which  characterizes  all  the  dialects  of  America,  with 
perhaps  but  a  single  exception,  and  forms  the  linguistic  dis- 
tinction of  the  American  race.  Their  language  was  copious, 
regular,  and  comprehensive.  The  Mexicans  had  a  rude  mode 
of  writing,  by  pictures  and  symbols,  which  enabled  them  to 
record  events,  to  transmit  and  preserve  information.  By  means 
of  this  help  they  recorded  their  laws,  their  judicial  transac- 
tions, and  wrote  their  civil  history.  They  wrote  poetry  in  the 
same  manner.  We  would  speak  with  becoming  diffidence  in 
this  matter,  which  we  certainly  have  not  been  able  to  investi- 
gate to  our  own  satisfaction,  and  modestly  express  our  fear 
that  the  art  of  writing  among  the  Mexicans  has  been  a  good 
deal  overrated.  We  doubt  that  an  ordinary  poem  coula  be 
recorded  in  Mexican  characters.  Still,  this  art  of  writing 
seems  to  have  been  more  perfect  than  the  Egyptian  in  the 
time  of  the  pyramids,  as  indeed  their  language  was  more  copi- 
ous and  better  developed,  though  greatly  iniferior  to  that  of 
the  Chinese. 


1849.]  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico,  451 

There  were  schools  for  the  education  of  the  children.  El- 
derly women,  serving  also  as  priestesses,  took  charge  of  the 
girls;  the  priests  instructed  the  boys.  The  former  learned 
various  feminine  employments,  were  taught  to  be  modest,  and 
to  pay  ^^  entire  obedience  and  respect  to  their  husbands." 
Boys  were  taught  to  work  and  to  fight ;  they  were  instructed 
in  the  art  of  writing ;  they  learned  the  traditionary  lore  of 
their  country,  and  studied  such  sciences  as  the  Mexicans  knew ; 
they  learned  the  principles  of  government,  and  were  taught  to 
hate  vice  and  love  virtue  —  to  practise  the  duties  of  natural 
religion.  To  this,  of  course,  was  added  an  acqusdntance  with 
the  national  mythology,  and  the  rites  of  the  popular  worship. 
This  education  was  no  doubt  rude,  and  limited  to  a  compara- 
tively small  portion  of  the  people.  There  was  a  general 
Board  of  Education,  called  the  Council  of  Music.  All  this  we 
suspect  is  a  good  deal  more  complete  on  paper  than  it  was  in 
fact ; — but  Diaz  informs  us  that  Montezuma  intended  to  keep 
some  of  the  Spaniards,  whom  he  hoped  to  conquer,  for  school- 
masters, and  employ  them  in  teachmg  the  people. 

In  thebr  religion  the  Mexicans  were  polytheists.  It  is  not 
easy  to  get  at  the  facts  respecting  this  matter,  for  the  authors 
we  depend  upon  seem  unconsciously  to  have  lent  a  coloring 
to  what  they  describe,  and  much  of  the  Christian  tradition  or 
doctrine  has  got  mingled  with  the  opinions  of  the  natives. 
But  it  is  said  that  they  believed  in  one  supreme  Creator; 
they  addressed  him  as  "  the  God  by  whom  we  live  ; "  "  invis- 
ible, incorporeal,  one  God,  of  perfect  perfection  and  purity ; " 
^^  under  whose  wing  we  find  repose  and  a  sure  aefence." 
There  were  other  gods  beside  him;  the  most  popular  was 
their  God  of  War,  for  the  Mexicans  were  a  ferocious  people, 
and  this  peculiarity  appears  also  in  their  mode  of  religion. 
In  common  with  almost  every  nation  of  the  earth,  and  per- 
haps with  all,  they  believed  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and 
the  doctrine  of  future  retribution.  In  the  Mexican  Heaven 
there  were  two  degrees  of  happiness,  of  which  the  warrior  had 
the  higher.  The  Roman  Poet  had  got  beyond  this.  There 
were  ttiree  degrees  of  punishment  in  hell.  "  Eternal  damna- 
tion," it  has  been  said,  "  is  not  learned  by  the  mere  light  of 
Nature,  but  is  one  of  the  truths  of  Revelation ;"  so  we  suppose 
the  Mexicans  were  indebted  to  their  Spanish  conquerors  for 
tins  article  of  the  creed.  The  priests  were  a  distinct  class, 
numerous  and  respected,  and,  as  in  nearly  all  countries,  the 
best  educated  class.    They  served  God  with  an  abundance  of 


452  Prescott'a  Conquer  of  Mexico.  [Sept. 

forme,  rites,  ceremonies,  fasts,  and  mortifications  of  the  flesh, 
—  according  to  Mr.  Prescott's  quotation,  ^'In  hope  to  merit 
Heaven  by  making  earth  a  hell."  However,  in  this  respect 
their  conquerors  taught  them  many  devices  which  the  simple 
Mexicims  did  not  know  before.  The  Mexicans  do  not  appear 
to  have  practised  any  ritual  mutilation  of  the  bod^  as  the  He- 
brews and  Mahommedans  do  to  this  day.  The  priesthood  was 
not  hereditary,  or  even  heritable,  as  it  seems.  It  did  not  nec- 
essarily last  for  life.  There  was  only  a  movable  priesthood,  not 
a  caste  perpetuating  its  traditions  and  its  rites  in  a  single  family 
from  age  to  age.  The  chief  priest  was  elected,  thou^  it  does 
not  appear  by  whom.  Some  elderly  women  served  as  priest- 
esses. The  Mexicans  had  some  rites  which  strangely  resembled 
the  Christian :  —  they  baptized  their  children  by  sprinkling ; 
the  priests  heard  confession  and  gave  absolution  from  sin,  and, 
what  is  remarkable,  tiiis  absolution  not  only  was  thought  to  save 
a  man  from  future  torment,  but  actually  held  good  and  gave 
deUveranoe  in  a  court  of  justice  on  eartii.  There  was  a 
Mexican  goddess,  Gioacoatl  was  her  name,  who  seems  closely 
related  to  mother  Eve ;  she  was  ^^  the  first  goddess  who  brought 
forth ; "  she  **  bequeathed  the  sufferings  of  childbirth  to  wo- 
men ; "  and  by  her  "  sin  came  into  the  world."  There  was  also 
a  Mexican  Noah,  Goxcox,  who  survived  a  deluge,  and  has  often 
been  taken  for  the  mythical  patriarch  of  the  Hebrew  legend. 

There  is  much  that  is  revolting  in  the  worship  of  savage 
nations ;  some  of  the  disgusting  features  thereof  remain  long 
after  civilization  has  swept  away  civil  and  social  monstrosities. 
The  most  hideous  thing  connected  with  the  Mexican  worship 
was  the  sacrifice  of  human  beings.  Human  sacrifices  have 
been  common  with  all  nations  at  certain  stages  of  their  devel- 
opment. The  custom  was  well  known  among  the  Greeks  and 
Romans :  the  story  of  Abraham  is  a  lasting  monument  of  its 
existence  among  the  Hebrews.  But  in  no  country  did  this 
abomination  prevail  to  so  great  a  degree.  To  render  the 
ghastly  sacrifice  still  worse,  the  worshippers  devoured  the  flesh 
of  the  victims.  Cannibalism  was  solemnly  practised  through- 
out Mexico.  Human  blood  wafl  the  holiest  sacrament.  The 
number  of  victims  is  variously  stated :  one  authority  mentions 
more  than  eighty  thousand  in  a  single  day  —  an  extraordinary 
occasion;  others  but  fifty  in  a  year,  the  estimate  of  Las  Casas. 
Mr.  Prescott  thinks  it  safe  to  admit  that  thousands  were  sacri- 
ficed each  year.  Diaz  declares  that  there  must  have  been  more 
than  a  hundred  thousand  skulls  of  these  victims  in  a  ^^e 


1849.]  PrescoM's  Conquest  qf  Mexico.  458 

place,  and  Oomara  relates  that  two  companions  of  Cort^ 
counted  one  hundred  and  tfairtj-six  thousand  m  a  smgle  edi- 
fice. No  apology  can  be  attempted  for  such  an  abomination ; 
—  but  the  same  thing  is  called  by  cUfferent  names  in  diflferent 
places.  In  thirty-five  years  King  Henry  the  Eighth  put  to 
death  seventy-two  thousand  of  his  subjects  by  the  bmds  of  the 
public  executioner ;  many  thousand  Moors  were  butchered  by 
the  Spanish  soldiers,  after  resistance  was  over,  in  the  time  of 
Ferdinand  and  Isabella;  a  great  number  were  put  to  death 
with  more  terrible  torments  by  the  most  holy  Court  of  the 
Inquisitipn.  A  Mexican  would  write  that  all  these  were  sacri- 
ficed to  God.  Human  sacrifices  in  Mexico  excited  the  just 
horror  of  Cortes  and  his  companions,  while  the  butcheries  in 
Spain  perhaps  did  not  disturb  them  at  all.  Few  things  can  be 
conceived  of  more  abhorrent  than  the  human  sacrifices  and 
cannibalism  of  the  Mexicans  :  their  civilization  deprived  them 
of  the  excuse  which  shelters  the  Fiji  and  New  Zealander.  Yet 
these  men-slaughterers  endeavoured  to  mitigate  the  sufferings 
of  their  victims.  Mr.  Prescott  shows  a  just  and  hearty  horror 
at  this  unnatural  mode  of  worship.  But  one  of  their  Gods, 
Quetzalcoatl,  it  is  said,  taught  ^^  a  more  spiritualizing  religion, 
in  which  the  only  sacrifices  were  the  fruits  and  flowers  of  the 
season." 

We  come  next  to  the  conquest  of  Mexico  by  Cortes.  He 
first  heard  the  name  of  Montezuma  about  Easter,  in  1519 ;  on 
St.  Hippolytus'  day,  August  12th,  1521,  the  Spaniards  carried 
the  capital  by  assault,  and  the  Mexican  empire  lay  at  theii 
disposal.  Montezuma  had  died  a  captive ;  Guatemozin,  his 
successor,  was  in  their  hands.  Yet  Cortes  invaded  this  pow- 
erful empire  with  but  a  handful  of  soldiers.  When  he  left 
Cuba,  February  10th,  1519,  he  had  one  hundred  and  ten 
mariners,  five  hundred  and  fifty-three  soldiers,  ten  heavy 
guns,  four  falconets,  and  sixteen  horses ;  he  had  also  about 
two  hundred  Indians.  Two  horses  were  subsequentlv  added, 
and  eighteen  men ;  fifteen  men  were  sent  away  from  the 
expedition,  and  there  were  other  but  inconsiderable  losses. 
He  actually  began  his  march  into  Menco  with  about  four 
hundred  foot,  and  fifteen  horse,  and  seven  pieces  of  artillery, 
such  as  it  was.  At  the  same  time,  he  had  also  thirteen  hun- 
dred Indian  warriors  and  one  thousand  Tamanes  or  porters, 
men  of  burthen.  The  number  of  Indians  was  soon  increasea 
to  three  thousand.    When  he  first  entered  Mexico  against  the 


454  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico.  [Sept. 

will  of  the  vacillating  monarch,  his  whole  force  was  less  than 
seven  thousand  men ;  but  four  hundred  of  these  were  Span- 
iards. After  he  had  been  driven  from  the  city,  and  had  been 
reinforced  by  others  of  his  countrymen  who  joined  the  expe- 
dition, when  he  reviewed  his  forces  at  Tezcuco,  he  had  eighty- 
seven  horse,  eight  hundred  and  eighteen  foot,  of  whom  one 
hundred  and  eight  were  arquebusiers  and  crossbowmen,  three 
large  field-pieces  of  iron,  and  fifteen  smaller  guns  of  brass. 

Such  were  the  forces  with  which  Cortes  invaded  and  finally 
conquered  a  country  containing  more  inhabitants,  to  say  the 
least,  than  the  kingdom  of  Spain,  at  that  time,  with  #  capital 
as  large  and  populous  as  Seville  and  Cordova  united,  or  twice 
as  great  as  Milan.  Certainly  the  most  daring  enterprise  of 
ancient  times  becomes  tame  in  comparison  with  this.  True, 
there  were  some  circumstances  which  favored  the  enterprise. 
Had  there  been  no  dissensions  in  the  Mexican  empire,  his 
attempt  would  have  been  in  vain;  without  his  Indian  allies 
lie  would  soon  have  been  cut  off.  Then  he  was  aided  by  the 
superstition  of  the  times.  There  was  a  prophecy  current 
among  the  Mexicans  which  Cortes  was  thought  to  fulfil.  There 
was  a  story  of  Quetzalcoatl,  a  mythical  person  worshipped  as 
a  god ;  he  had  taught  the  Mexicans  agriculture,  the  use  of 
metals,  and  the  arts  of  government,  and  opposed  human  sac- 
rifices which  he  could  not  prevent ;  he  had  a  f^dr  complexion 
and  a  flowing  beard,  the  patriarch  of  the  golden  age  of  Mex- 
ico ;  he  had  left  the  country,  embarking  for  Tlapallan,  the 
Mexican  Eden,  or  Atlantis,  but  the  prophecy  said  he  would 
return  and  resume  the  possession  of  the  empire.  The  Mexi- 
cans saw  Cortes,  and  said:  "This  is  Quetzalcoatl  returned 
from  Paradise."  The  Spaniards  were  "  white  gods."  Mon- 
tezuma himself  seems  to  have  shared  this  opinion.  This 
"  random  shot  of  prophecy,"  as  Mr.  Prescott  calls  it,  seems 
to  have  hit  the  mark,  and  prepared  the  nation  for  conquest. 

Then  the  Spaniards  were  Caucasians,  and  had  the  organic 
superiority  of  that  race  ;  besides,  they  were  far  in  advance  of 
the  Mexicans  in  the  art  of  war.  They  had  horses,  steel,  ships, 
gunpowder,  muskets,  and  cannon  ;  they  understood  the  value 
of  concerted  action,  and  of  well  ordered  movements  on  the 
field  of  battle  ;  they  had  weapons  of  offence  and  defence  far 
superior  to  those  of  their  opponents.  If  Boston  could  be 
invaded  by  an  army  that  should  land  at  Provincetown,  ascend 
in  balloons,  and  from  a  single  position  reconnoitre  the  whole 
state  of  Massachusetts,  and  from  the  extremity  of  Cape  Cod 


1849.]  Prescott's  Conqueit  of  Mexico,  455 

should  bombard  this  city,  levelling  whole  blocks  of  houses  at 
a  single  shot ;  if  they  had  swords  which  could  pierce  through 
a  ploughshare  as  easily  as  silk  or  cotton  cloth,  and  firearms 
wluch  shot  through  the  most  solid  walls  of  brick  and  stone  as 
readily  as  a  rifle  ball  goes  through  a  glass  window ;  if  they  had 
animals  trained  to  war,  ten  times  larger  than  the  elephant,  as 
heavy  as  the  largest  locomotive  steam-engine,  swifter  than 
that,  and  more  difficult  to  encounter — beasts  of  war  that  trod 
down  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons,  trampling  the  artillery  itself 
into  the  ground ;  if,  in  addition  to  this,  the  invaders  were  clad 
in  armor  bullet-proof,  were  each  stronger  than  ten  common 
men,  had  a  skill,  a  foresight,  a  darine,  and  a  patient  courage 
proportionate  to  their  instruments  of  destruction,  and  a  cruelty 
not  inferior  to  their  courage ;  and  if,  still  more,  it  was  cur- 
rentiy  believed  that  the  Book  of  Revelations  had  predicted 
that  they  should  come  and  conquer  the  land ;  if  whole  coun- 
tries were  ready  to  help  the  invaders, »—  then  we  should  be 
confronted  with  foes  which  would  bear  about  the  same  relation 
to  us  that  the  Spaniards  bore  to  the  Mexicans.  Considering 
all  these  things,  the  success  of  the  conquerors,  marvellous  as 
it  appears,  is  less  remarkable  than  the  courage  and  patience 
with  which  the  Mexicans  resisted  the  attack.  Had  the  Span- 
iards known  the  full  extent  of  the  difficulty,  even  the  iron 
heart  of  Cortes  must  have  failed  within  him. 

But  we  must  ask,  What  Right  had  the  Spaniards  to  invade 
Mexico  and  possess  themselves  of  its  soil.  Mr.  Prescott  ex- 
amines this  question  ift  an  unsatisfactory  manner,  and,  we  are 
sorry  to  say  it,  gives  an  unjust  answer,  but  in  accordance 
with  the  spirit  in  which  his  three  historical  works  have  been 
written.  An  unprejudiced  man  must  say  the  Spaniards  had 
no  claim  to  Mexico,  but  that  of  the  stout  and  well  armed 
highwayman  to  the  purse  of  the  imdefended  traveller ;  the 
right  of  the  pirate  over  the  unprotected  ship  of  the  merchant. 
It  is  true,  the  Spanish  monarch  had  a  conveyance  from  the 
Pope,  which  in  reality  gave  no  better  titie,  and  was  worth  no 
more  than  tiie  compendious  transfer  offered  by  the  Tempter 
in  the  Bible  —  "all  these  will  I  give  thee  if  thou  wilt  fall 
down  and  worship  me."  Neither  Pope  nor  Satan  could 
alienate  and  convey  what  he  did  not  possess.  We  think  it 
cannot  be  maintained  in  Natural  Law  that  a  savage  tribe  has  a 
right  to  arrest  civilization  in  any  given  spot,  ip  keep  a  continent 
for  a  hunting-field  dwelt  in  by  a  few  wild  beasts  and  wild  men. 
It  is  commonly,  perhaps  universally,  conceded,  that  a  nation 


456  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico.  [Sept. 

has  Eminent  Domain  over  tbe  lands  of  the  individual,  and 
allows  him  to  hold  liiem  in  individual  severalty  for  his  private 
welfare  when  not  adverse  to  the  general  good  of  the  State  ; 
even  to  bequeath  them  to  his  successor,  subject  to  the  same 
condition.  So  the  Human  Race  has  Eminent  Domain  over 
the  lands  of  each  particular  nation,  allowing  it  to  hold  in 
national  severdty  for  the  nation's  welfare,  when  not  adverse 
to  the  universal  good  of  mankind.  As  there  is  a  solidarity  of 
the  Nation,  so  is  there  of  the  Race,  and  Rights  and  Duties, 
national  or  universal,  thence  accruing.  But  when  the  nation 
takes  the  lands  of  the  individual,  which  he  has  a  good  natural 
title  to,  they  must  fully  indemnify  that  individual  for  his  lands, 
else  it  is  robbery ;  and  robbery  by  a  nation,  and  for  the  sake 
of  the  greatest  majority  of  its  citizens,  is  no  better  in  itself 
than  if  done  by  one  man  in  his  own  name, — it  is  still  robbery, 
spoliation  contrary  to  Natural  Law.  The  same  holds  good 
between  any  one  nation  and  mankind,  between  the  Savage  and 
the  Civilized  who  may  assume  to  represent  the  consciousness 
of  mankind.  This  idea  seems  to  have  been  in  the  mind  of  the 
settlers  of  New  England  ;  if  not  in  their  mind,  they  acted  as 
if  it  were.  The  Pilgrim  and  the  Puritan  knew  that  the  naked 
savages  of  Massachusetts  had  no  natural  right,  adverse  to  the 
welfare  of  the  Human  Race,  no  right  to  keep  the  land  a  wil« 
demess  and  shut  civilization  out  of  it  for  ever ;  but  they  knew, 
also,  tiiat  though  the  civilized  man  represented  the  higher 
consciousness  of  mankind,  and  so  far  as  tnat  went,  represented 
the  Human  Race,  still  he  had  no  right,  \fhatever  necessity  com- 
pelled him,  to  take  from  the  savages,  against  their  will,  all  that 
they  had  or  any  thing  that  they  had,  without  returning  them  a 
complete  equivalent  therefor.  So  these  settlers  of  New  Eng- 
land did  not  rely  on  the  grant  of  the  English  king  for  their  title 
to  the  Indian  land ;  they  bought  it  of  the  Indians,  took  a  deed, 
recorded  the  transfer,  and  honestly  paid  for  it,  —  a  small  con- 
sideration, but  enough  to  extinguish  the  tiUe,  and  more  than 
it  was  worth  to  the  Indians  themselves.  But  in  New  England 
iio  Indian  owned  land  in  severalty,  more  than  wind  and  water, 
excepting  the  spot  his  wigwam  covered,  and  the  littie  patch 
subjected  to  the  rude  tillage  of  his  wife.  These  were  the  only 
spots  with  which  he  had  mixed  up  his  labor.  There  was 
enough  for  all,  and  therefore  personal  and  exclusive  appropri- 
ation had  hardly  begun.  At  the  merest  caprice,  the  Indian 
left  his  place  to  whomsoever  might  take  it,  and  himself  sought 
another — as  free  as  the  Beaver  or  the  Wild-cat,  who  like  him 


1849.]  Prescott's  C<mqiU9t  of  Mexico.  457 

respected  the  appropriation  of  another.  This  tract  belonged 
to  Uie  Narragansetts,  that  to  the  Pequods.  There  was  appro- 
priation by  the  tribe,  not  bj  the  individual.  The  title  of  the 
Narragansetts  was  good  as  agfunst  the  Pequods,  or  any  other 
tribe,  but  each  man  of  that  tribe  took  any  of  the  national 
lands  not  previously  appropriated,  as  freely  as  he  took  the  air 
and  the  water  which  was  not  in  another  man's  mouth.  The 
chief  of  the  tribe  seems  to  have  acted  as  Trustee,  and  in  that 
capacity  gave  his  quitclaim  deed  to  the  chief  of  the  white 
men,  acting  in  behalf  of  the  rest,  and  conveyed  away  the  title 
of  the  tribe.  The  Indian  parted  with  his  land  for  a  ^'  good 
consideration,"  for  "  value  received." 

In  Mexico,  the  case  was  quite  different.  Almost  all  the 
valuable  land  was  owned  in  severalty ;  individuals  had  mixed 
their  labor  with  the  soil,  ownmg  it  as  much  as  they  owned  the 
fish-hook  they  had  made,  or  the  ear  of  corn  they  had  grown ; 
owned  it  as  completely  as  a  man  can  own  the  soil.  The 
Mexicans  were  a  civilized  people ;  the  lands  in  the  valley  of 
Mexico  were  as  well  cultivated  as  the  lands  m  Granada,  the 
garden  of  Europe  ;  the  natives. had  not  stopped  in  their  prog- 
ress, as  Mr.  Prescott  thinks  the  Moors  had  done  in  Spain,  and 
their  land  therefore  could  not  be  claimed  as  a  derelict  of 
civilization ;  on  the  contrary,  they  seem  to  have  been  in  a 
state  of  rapid  advance,  as  much  so  as  the  Spanish  nation 
itself.  The  superior  culture  of  the  Spaniard  gave  him  no 
right  to  these  lands  without  indemnifying  the  individual  own- 
ers,—  no  more  than  ihe  English  have  to  China,  or  the  Dutch 
to  Turkey  ;  no  more  than  the  New  Englanders  would  have  to 
seize  Spain  and  Italy  at  tiiis  day.  The  Spaniard  could  not 
plead  necessity,  like  the  Pilgrims,  —  poor,  persecuted,  and 
just  escaped  from  the  ocean,  —  who  took  a  fish  and  some  com 
m  their  extremity,  when  they  landed  on  Cape  Cod,  and  care- 
fully paid  for  both  when,  months  afterwards,  they  found  the 
owners!  Oppression  never  planted  a  single  Spaniard  in 
America.  The  Moors  were  not  allowed  to  migrate  thither, 
under  the  administration  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella.  The  Span- 
iards did  not  attempt  or  pretend  to  buy  a  title  to  the  land. 
Their  claim  was  the  claim  of  the  pirate.  It  is  true,  the  Pope, 
as  Head  of  the  Humiui  Race,  Trustee  for  all  mankind,  and 
Vicegerent  of  Almighty  God,  gave  a  tide  to  America.  Could 
Cortes  and  the  others  hold  under  that  ?  Mr.  Prescott  thmks 
they  could  satbfy  their  own  consciences  in  that  way,  and 
though  the  conveyance  were  worthless  in  itself,  they  would  be 


458  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico.  [Sept. 

subjectively  in  the  right.  But  the  Pope  gave  a  grant  of  lands 
subject  to  this  condition:  the  Heathen  must  be  converted. 
If  that  were  not  done,  the  title  failed  through  breach  of  cov- 
enant.    We  shall  see  how  this  was  attended  to. 

Mr.  Prescott  says  the  desire  of  converting  the  natives  was 
"  paramount  to  every  calculation  of  personal  interest  in  the 
breast  of  Cortis."  (Vol.  IL,  p.  32  et  al.)  We  are  amazed 
at  a  statement  so  gratuitous  and  irreconcilable  with  the  facts 
of  the  case ;  we  should  say  that  the  calculation  of  personal 
interest  was  always  paramount  to  the  desire  of  converting 
the  natives.  Mr.  Prescott  says,  "  There  was  nothing  which 
the  Spanish  government  had  more  earnestly  at  heart,  than  the 
conversion  of  the  Indians."  (Vol.  I.,  p.  269.)  We  wish 
there  were  some  facts  to  sustain  the  assertion.  It  is  true,  a 
pretence  was  often  made  of  a  desire  to  Christianize  the  In- 
dians. Velasquez  instructs  Cortis  "  to  bear  in  mind,  above 
all  things,  that  the  object  which  the  Spanbh  monarch  had 
most  at  heart,  was  the  conversion  of  the  Indians " ;  he  was, 
however,  to  impress  on  them  the  grandeur  and  goodness  of  his 
royal  master,  and  to  invite  them  "  to  give  in  their  allegiance 
to  him,  and  to  manifest  it  by  regaling  him  with  such  comfort- 
able presents  of  gold,  pearls,  and  precious  stones,  as,  by  show- 
ing their  good  will,  would  secure  his  favor  and  protection." 
Imagine,  oh  gentle  or  simple  readers,  imagine  the  American 
board  of  foreign  missionaries  sending  out  their  servants  to 
China  with  such  instructions,  asking  for  "comfortable  pres- 
ents" of  silks,  and  Sycee  silver,  and  tea!  Imagine,  also,  the 
admiration  of  the  Castilian  court,  if  Cortes  had  believed  that 
"  the  conversion  of  the  Indians  "  was  "  the  object  which  the 
Spanish  monarch  had  most  at  heart,"  and  had  converted  the 
whole  of  Mexico,  overturned  every  idol,  sending  them  all  as 
trophies  to  his  "most  noble,  powerful,  and  catholic  prince, 
invincible  emperor,  and  our  sovereign  lord,"  planted  the  cross 
on  every  teocalliy  but  the  Spanish  flag  nowhere,  and  had  not 
sent  home  a  single  ounce  of  gold,  nor  gained  an  inch  of  land ! 
Imagine  the  honors,  the  triumphal  processions,  that  would  have 
been  his  welcome  home  to  old  Castile  !  Mr.  Prescott,  in  the 
very  teeth  of  facts,  maintains  that  Cortes  took  this  part  of  his 
instructions  to  the  letter,  and  with  him  that  the  conversion  of 
the  natives  was  paramount  "  to  every  calculation  of  personal 
interest."  His  "first  object"  says  Mr.  Prescott,  "was  to 
reclaim  the  natives  from  their  gross  idolatry,  and  to  substitute 
a  purer  form  of  worrfiip.     ...     He  was  prepared  to  use 


1849.]  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico.  459 

force  if  milder  means  should  prove  ineffectual,"  (Vol.  I.,  p. 
269.)  He  felt  "  he  had  a  high  mission  to  perform  as  a  sol- 
dier of  the  cross."  Cortes  comes  to  St.  Juan  de  Ulloa,  as  it 
is  now  called,  and  invites  the  natives  "  to  abandon  their  cursed 
idols,  abolish  human  sacrifices,  and  abstain  from  kidnapping." 
Every  body  knows  the  fable  of  the  Fox  turned  Preacher  ;  it 
is  less  remarkable  than  the  historical  and  kindred  fable  of 
Cortes  turned  Missionary. 

This  confessor  of  the  Faith,  this  missionary  of  the  Lord,  this 
great  first  apostle  to  the  Gentiles  of  Tenochtitlan,  comes  to 
Tabasco,  full  of  war  and  Christianity,  resolved,  as  Mr.  Pres- 
cott  confesses,  to  build 

"  his  faith  upon 
The  holy  text  of  pike  and  gun." 

The  natives  opposed  the  entrance  of  armed  strangers,  as  the 
Dutch  or  the  Portuguese  would  have  done.  Cortis  made 
proclamation,  and  assured  them  that  "  if  blood  were  spilt,  the 
sin  would  lie  on  their  heads."  They  answered  with  shouts  of 
defiance  and  a  shower  of  arrows.  He  took  the  town,  and  two 
days  after  had  a  severe  battle  with  the  inhabitants  of  the 
country.  Of  course  the  Spaniards  were  victorious,  and  the 
Indians  suffered  great  loss :  some  say  one  thousand  were  slain, 
some  thirty  thousand.  The  battle  was  fought  on  Lady  Day, 
the  day  of  the  miraculous  conception  of  the  Mother  of  God, 
The  battle  was  a  good  tvpe  of  the  "  annunciation  "  brought 
by  this  new  Gabriel  to  the  American  Virgin.  As  the  primi- 
tive Christians,  it  is  said,  had  miraculous  assistance  in  wield- 
ing their  spiritual  weapons,  so  these  devout  heralds  of  the  faith, 
"  soldiers  of  the  cross,"  and  "  followers  of  the  Lamb,"  had 
aid  from  on  high  —  a  celestial  champion  "mounted  on  his 
grey  war  horse,  heading  the  rescue,  and  trampling  over  the 
bodies  of  the  fallen  infidels ! "  Cortes  thought  it  was  his  own 
tutelary  saint,  —  Saint  Peter,  a  patron  not  wholly  unsuitable 
for  such  a  client,  —  "but,"  says  Pizarro  y  Orellana,  "the 
common  and  indubitable  opinion  is,  that  it  was  our  glorious 
apostle.  Saint  James,  the  bulwark  and  safeguard  of  the  na- 
tion." After  the  battle  the  Indians  were  "  converted,"  and 
the  event  celebrated  on  PaJm  Sunday.  "  Behold  thy  King 
cometh  unto  thee  meek,"  must  have  been  sung  with  great 
unction  that  sabbath  mom,  and  the  lesson  for  the  day,  "  Come 
unto  me,  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,"  must  have 
delighted  Saint  Peter  and  Saint  James,  heard  "  in  this  con- 


460  Prescott's  Conqtiest  of  Mexico.  [Sept* 

nection  ! "  A  city  was  afterwards  built  on  the  battle-field  ; 
its  name  commemorates  the  day,  the  deed,  and  the  Christianity 
of  these  apostles  —  Saint  Mary  of  Victory ! 

At  Cempoalla  Cortis  tried  his  hand  at  the  delightful  work 
of  conversion ;  the  Indian  monarch,  however,  declared  his 
own  gods  were  good  enough  for  him,  and  he  could  not  com- 
prehend how  the  creator  of  the  universe  "  could  condescend 
to  take  the  form  of  humanity,  with  its  infirmities  and  ills,  and 
wander  about  ihe  earth,  the  voluntarv  victim  of  ...  . 
those  whom  his  breath  had  called  mto  existence,"  Poor 
benighted  heathen !  To  Cortes  this  was  easy  as  drawing 
his  sword.  However,  the  nation  was  converted — at  least  the 
temples.  Here,  though  not  for  the  first  or  last  time,  —  for 
"the  things  that  are  seen  are  temporal"  and  require  to  be  re- 
newed,—  these  devout  apostles  received  a  foretaste  of  their 
reward,  in  the  form  of  "  eight  Indian  maidens,  richly  dressed, 
wearing  collars  and  ornaments  of  gold,  witii  a  number  of 
female  slaves  to  wait  on  them."  The  chief  requested  that 
they  might  become  wives  to  the  Spanish  captains.  "  Cor- 
tes received  the  damsels  courteously,"  such  was  his  zeal  for 
Christianity, "  but  told  the  cacique  they  must  first  be  baptized." 
^^  Porqtie  manera  no  era  permitido  a  hombres,  Mjos  de  la 
Iglena  di  Dios^  tener  commercio  con  idolatras ! "  Similar 
comforters  were  frequently  "  added  to  their  number."  Bemal 
Diaz,  a  very  plain-spoken  old  soldier,  who  cared  not  over 
much  for  the  souls  of  the  heathen,  mentions  these  thin^ 
oftener  than  Mr.  Prescott.  Cortes  liimself,  in  virtue  of  his 
apostolic  dignity,  we  suppose,  or  as  head  of  the  new  church, 
took  the  right  "  to  lead  about"  the  celebrated  Marina,  —  not 
without  other  helpmeets,  we  think,  —  an  Indian  woman  who 
was  of  great  service  in  the  expedition. 

This  band  of  missionaries  went  to  Cholula,  and  massacred 
the  inhabitants,  who  had  been  previously  assembled  in  a  nar- 
row place  convenient  for  the  slaughter.  A  portion  of  the 
town  was  burnt,  and,  as  Cortes  himself  says,  three  thousand 
of  the  inhabitants  put  to  death.  Herrera  makes  the  number 
six  thousand,  and  others  yet  greater.  Mr.  Prescott  is  far 
from  justifying  the  deed-,  yet  he  endeavours  to  excuse  the 
conduct  of  Cortes :  these  were  heathens ;  religious  infidelity 
was  thought  a  sin  to  be  punished  with  fire  and  faggot  in  this 
life,  and  eternal  suffering  in  the  next.  But  if  it  is  believed 
tiiat  death  sends  a  man  to  eternal  torment,  a  "  soldier  of  the 
cross  "  would  hesitate  a  little  before  butchering  ^  thousand 


1849.]  PrescoU's  Conquest  cf  Mexico.  461 

.men.  Lats  Casas  adds  that  he  burnt  alive  more  than  one 
hundred  caciques  whom  he  had  craftily  got  into  his  hands, 
and  that  while  the  city  was  on  fire,  it  was  said  that  Cortes 
repeated  a  snatch  of  poetry,  comparing  himself  to  Nero  look- 
ing down  from  the  Tarpeian  rock  on  the  burning  of  Rome, 
and  caring  not  for  the  screams  of  the  children  and  the  old 
man.  This  story  seems  less  probable  to  Mr.  Prescott  than  to 
ns.  After  thus  introducing  himself  to  the  Cholulans,  Cortes 
*^  urged  the  citizens  to  embrace  the  cross  "  and  abandon  their 
false  gods. 

When  Cortes  had  his  first  interview  with  Montezuma,  he 
told  the  monarch  that  the  Christians  had  come  to  snatch  his 
soul  and  the  souls  of  his  people  from  the  flames  of  eternal  fire. 
The  Mexican  king  must  have  thought  them  remarkable  men 
for  such  a  mission.  When  about  to  advance  to  the  siege  <^ 
Mexico,  Cortes  tells  his  soldiers  that  ^^  the  conversion  of  the 
heathen  is  the  work  most  acceptable  in  the  eye  of  the  Al- 
mighty, and  one  that  will  be  sure  to  receive  his  support" ; 
that  without  this  the  war  would  be  uniust,  and  all  they  might 
gain  by  it,  robbery.  When  a  new  King  was  established  at 
Tezcuco,  Cortes  placed  several  Spaniards  about  him,  ostensibly 
to  instruct  him  in  their  language  aipd  religion,  but  really  as 
spies  to  watch  over  his  conduct  and  prevent  his  correspondence 
with  the  Mexicans.  ♦ 

The  Spanish  apostles  had  one  mode  of  distinguishing  their 
converts  and  catechumens  from  such  as  had  not  fallen  into  their 
hands  which  we  do  not  find  practised  by  the  evangelists  of 
other  nations :  they  branded  their  captives  with  a  hot  iron* 
The  letter  G.  was  thus  indelibly  burnt  upon  them,  to  denote 
that  they  were  the  spoils  of  war,  (^giierra.^  Diaz  mentions 
the  branding  of  the  captives  a  great  deal  oflener  than  Mr. 
Prescott ;  on  several  occasions  it  was  done  to  ^'  a  vast  num- 
ber of  the  inhabitants,"  and  again  ^^  great  numbers  were  led 
away  into  slavery  and  marked  in  the  face  with  a  red  hot 
iron."  (Cap.  130, 164,  et  saep.)  This  hateful  torment  was 
burned  upon  the  women  as  well  as  the  men ;  even  upon  the 
faces  of  the  women  who  were  to  serve  as  temporary  "  wives  " 
to  the  conquerors,  who,  it  seems,  were  not  always  so  anxious 
to  ensure  their  baptism  as  their  branding. 

The  motive  of  the  conquerors  was  love  of  conquest  and 
plunder.  This  is  plain  enough  in  the  despatches  of  Cortes. 
Diaz  makes  no  concealment  of  the  fact :  he  wished  the  land 
to  be  divided  as  follows  :  one  fifih  for  the  king,  one  fifth  for 


462  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico.  [Sept. 

the  cliurch,  and  the  rest  among  the  conquerors,  according  to 
their  rank  and  merits.  (Cap.  169.)  As  the  conquerors  who 
survived  the  conquest  could  not  have  been  more  than  five  or 
six  hundred,  thej  would  have  been  pretty  well  paid  for  two  or 
three  years'  service.  But  what  would  be  left  for  the  eon- 
verted  natives  ?     Heaven  in  the  next  life  and  slavery  in  this. 

The  design  of  the  conquerors  is  made  pltun  by  the  invasion 
itself,  by  their  conduct  during  the  war,  and  by  tike  institutions 
they  established  after  it  was  over :  they  wanted  the  property 
and  the  persons  of  the  Mexicans.  They  took  both,  perhaps 
with  as  little  ferocity  and  as  much  decorum  as  any  nation  could 
rob  and  enslave  another.  The  plea  of  a  desire  to  convert  the 
Indians  is  a  poor  defence  and  unworthy  of  an  historian  like 
Mr.  Prescott.  It  would  be  better  rhetoric,  as  well  as  truer  and 
more  honest,  to  say :  these  were  hard,  iron  men,  with  rather 
less  than  the  average  intelligence,  morality,  and  piety  of  their 
nation ;  they  went  to  Mexico,  led  thither  by  love  of  adven- 
ture, love  of  fame,  of  power,  or  of  gold ;  they  only  pretended 
to  care  for  the  souls  of  the  men  whose  property  they  plun- 
dered, whose  daughters  they  debauched,  whose  persons  they 
stole  or  slew ! 

Certainly  they  were  very  remarkable  heralds  of  Christianity, 
By  steel  and  gunpowder  they  subdued  kingdoms,  wrought  un- 
righteousness, obtained  promises.  They  wandered  about  in 
steel  caps,  dragging  their  artillery  after  them,  impoverishing, 
afflicting,  tormenting.  They  routed  armies ;  cities  they  over- 
threw and  turned  upside  down ;  captives  they  took  and  brand- 
ed in  the  name  of  God.  As  an  earnest  of  their  reward,  they 
bad  female  slaves  without  number,  the  first  fruits  of  them  that 
believe,  and  having  satiated  their  avarice  and  their  lust,  and 
obtained  a  good  report  through  the  blood  of  their  victims,  they 
received  the  promises,  the  heritage  of  the  heathen ;  yea,  such 
was  the  reward  of  all  those  blessed  apostles  —  of  whom  the 
world  was  not  worthy  —  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons. 

Some  conquerors  have  a  great  Idea,  and  for  the  sake  of 
that  do  deeds  which  revolt  the  moral  sense  of  mankind.  Such 
men  have  some  excuse  for  their  violent  dealing  with  the  world, 
in  the  service  they  render ;  they  esteem  themselves  men  of 
destiny,  and  in  behalf  of  their  Idea  go  forth  through  seas  of 
blood  of  their  own  shedding.  Smiting  with  the  sword,  it  is 
not  for  themselves  they  smite.  Thus  there  is  some  defence  for 
Alexander,  Hannibal,  Cd&sar,  and  Charlemagne ;  for  Napoleon 
and  for  Cromwell ;  even  Frederic  the  Great  was  not  a  mere 


1843.]  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico.  468 

fighter.  But  Cortes  cannot  be  put  in  this  class.  He  jiad  no 
Idea  in  advance  of  his  age ;  in  all  but  courage  and  military 
skill  he  appears  behind  his  times.  No  noble  thought,  no  lofty 
sentiment  seems  to  have  inspired  him  ;  none  such  breathes  in 
his  words  or  deeds.  Mr.  Prescott  says  he  was  not  a  "  mere 
fighter,"  but  we  see  nothing  else  that  can  be  ssud  to  distin- 
guish him  from  the  rest  of  men.  He  was  one  of  the  most 
vulgar  of  fighters ;  he  loved  the  excitement  of  adventurous 
deeds  ;  he  sought  vulgar  fame,  and  vulgar  wealth  and  power, 
by  vulgar  means  for  vulgar  ends.  Few  distinguished  conquerors 
were  so  ignoble.  He  came  among  the  red  men  of  America, 
they  began  by  calling  him  a  god,  and  ended  with  hating  him 
as  the  devil.  In  the  hot  region  of  Mexico  he  was  treated 
with  great  kindness ;  his  companions  ^'  experienced  every  alle- 
viation that  could  be  desired  from  the  attentions  of  the  friendly 
nations."  They  made  more  than  a  thousand  booths  for  the 
Spaniards,  and  freely  gave  provisions  for  Cortes  and  his  offi- 
cers. Montezuma  sent  to  learn  who  we  were,  says  Diaz,  and 
what  we  wanted  for  our  ships  ;  we  were  only  to  tell  what  we 
wanted,  and  they  were  to  furnish  it.  The  Indians  who  at- 
tached themselves  to  his  standard  were  faithful ;  of  the  Tlas- 
calans  only  Xicotencatl  proved  untrue.  But  Cortes  was 
crafty,  insidious,  and  deceitful.  He  fomented  discontent ; 
he  encouraged  the  disaffected  nations  to  rely  on  his  protection, 
*'  as  he  had  come  to  redress  their  wrongs,"  while  he  came  to 
steal  their  possessions  and  their  persons.  He  told  his  own 
soldiers  they  were  to  fight  against  rebels  who  had  revolted 
from  their  liege  lord ;  against  barbarians,  the  enemies  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  to  fight  the  battles  of  the  cross,  to  obtain  riches  and 
honor  in  this  life  and  imperishable  glory  in  Heaven. 

He  was  unjust  to  his  own  soldiers,  seizing  more  than  his 
share  of  the  booty.  Diaz  complains  of  this  oftener  than  Mr. 
Prescott ;  even  the  food  was  sometimes  unjustly  divided. 
(Diaz,  Cap.  105  et  al.)  Did  the  soldiers  complain,  Cortes 
made  a  speech  full  of  ^'  the  most  honeyed  phrases  and  argu- 
ments most  specious,"  (^palabras  muy  mellifluaSy  .... 
razones  muy  Men  dichasS)  Some  he  bribed  into  silence  with 
gold,  others  with  promises ;  some  he  put  in  chains.  Were  the 
captives  to  be  divided,  he  not  only  selected  first  the  king's  fifth 
thereof  and  his  own,  but  the  finest  of  the  women  were  secretly 
set  apart,  so  that,  as  one  of  these  missionaries  complains, 
(Diaz,  Cap.  135,)  the  common  soldiers  found  only  "  old  and 
ugly  women  "  left  for  them.    After  the  spoil  was  divided  in 


464  ^       PreacoU'6  Canque$t  qf  Meadeo.  [Sept* 

this  unjust  fashion,  he  would  not  always  allow  the  soldiers  to 
keep  their  scanty  share,  but  once  demanded  one  third  of  it 
back  again,  and  insisted  that  if  it  were  not  restored,  he  would 
take  the  whole.  Under  pretence  of  loans,  he  extorted  a  good 
deal  from  his  own  soldiers  —  a  circumstance  which  injured  him 
much,  says  Diaz.  Mr.  Prescott  thinks  such  occasions  were 
^^  critical  conjunctures  which  taxed  all  the  address  and  personal 
authority  of  Cortes.  He  never  shrank  from  them,  but  on 
such  occasions  was  true  to  himself."  (Vol.  U.,  p.  207.) 
But  truth  to  himself  was  falseness  to  hb  soldiers.  He  would 
violate  hb  word  to  them  for  the  sake  of  more  plunder.  Much 
as  they  honored  and  feared  him,  few  loved  him  much,  and  in 
one  of  his  most  trying  times,  says  the  same  old  soldier  we  have 
often  quoted,  they  all  grudged  him  a  handful  of  maize  to  stay 
his  hunger.     (Cap.  156.) 

Cortes  was  needlessly  cruel ;  this  appears  in  the  slaughter 
at  Tabasco,  and  in  the  massacre  at  Cholula,  which  even  Mr. 
Prescott  thinks  a  dark  stain  on  the  memory  of  the  conquerors. 
His  punishments  often  appear  wanton :  —  he  orders  a  man  to 
be  killed  for  stealing  a  pair  of  fowls,  another  for  speaking 
angrily  to  Montezuma ;  he  has  the  feet  of  his  pilot  chopped  off 
for  some  offence ;  he  took  fifty  Tlascalans  who  came  to  his 
camp  as  spies,  cut  off  their  hands,  and  sent  them  home.  The 
friendly  Indians  were  curious  to  see  the  Spaniards,  and  came 
too  near  the  Imes  of  their  encampment,  and  Cortes  coolly 
relates  that  fifteen  or  twenty  of  them  were  shot  down  by  the 
sentnes.  Mr.  Prescott  excuses  this:  the  "jealousy  of  the 
court  and  the  cautions  he  had  received  from  his  allies  .  .  . 
seem  to  have  given  an  unnatural  acuteness  ...  to  his 
perceptions  of  danger."     (Vol.  II.,  p.  59.)    After  the  con- 

Jiuest  an  insurrection  took  place  and  was  speedily  put  down  ; 
our  hundred  chiefs  were  sentenced  to  the  stake  or  the  ^bbet, 
** by  which  means,"  says  Cortes,  "God  be  praised,  the  safety 
of  the  Spaniards  was  secured."  He  burnt  alive  some  of 
Montezuma's  officers,  who  were  guilty  of  no  offence  but  that 
of  obeying  their  king  ;  at  the  same  time  he  punished  Monte- 
zuma for  giving  them  the  order.  He  tortured  the  members  of 
Guatemozin's  household,  putting  boiling  oil  upon  their  feet. 
This  great  apostle  to  the  Gentiles  put  Guatemozin  himself  and 
the  cacique  of  Tacuba  to  the  torture  —  not  exactly  to  save 
his  soul,  "  so  as  by  fire,"  but  to  get  his  gold.  Afterwards, 
on  a  groundless  suspicion,  he  treacherously  hung  them  both. 
Mr.  Prescott  shows  little  horror  at  these  cruelties,  little  sense 


1849.]  PreMOtt'a  Omquut  of  Mexico.  465 

of  tteir  injusticG;  nay,  he  seema  to  seek  to  mitigate  the  natural 
indigDation  which  a  man  feels  at  such  tyranny  of  the  strong 
over  the  weak.  We  confesa  our  aBtooishment  that  an  historian 
^ho  thinks  the  desire  of  converting  the  heathen  was  the  para- 
mount motive  in  the  breast  of  Cortes,  has  no  moro  eenaure  to 
bestow  on  such  wanton  cruelties,  so  frequently  perpetrated  as 
they  were.  The  soldiers  of  the  cross,  going  on  their  miasion 
of  mercy,  to  snatch  the  Indians  from  the  firca  of  hell,  dress 
the  wounds  of  their  horses  with  melted  fat  cut  from  the  bodies 
of  til©  natives  they  were  to  convert  (Diaz,  Cap,  34) ;  Mr. 
Prescott  makes  no  comment,  Cortes  has  the  slaves  branded 
with  a  hot  iron  in  the  cheek.  Diaz  mentions  this  more  than 
ten  times ;  Mr,  Prescott  but  twice,  and  then  has  no  word  to 
Bay  —  more  than  if  they  had  been  baptized  with  water. 

The  massacre  at  Cholula  was  terrible  as  it  was  needless 
and  wanton,  *'  More  than  three  thousand  of  the  enemy  per- 
lahed  in  ten  hours,'*  says  Cortes,  Mr.  Prescott  confesses  thii 
fans  ''left  a  dark  stain  on  the  memory  of  the  conquerors,"  that 
he  does  not  intend  to  vindicate  their  cruel  deeds,  and  then 
undertakes  to  excuse  this-  very  cruelty.  We  confess  our  aston- 
ishment at  such  an  excuse*     (VoL  11*^  29  —  36.) 

The  massacre  at  Mexico,  after  the  capture  of  the  city,  was 
terrible.  We  will  not  dwell  upon  it,  nor  recount  its  bloody 
details,  Cortes  had  destroyed  town  after  town ;  army  after 
army  had  he  swept  off*  It  is  within  bounds  to  say  that  half 
a  million  men  had  been  put  to  the  sword  since  the  Spaniards 
came  thitlier,  desirous  above  all  things  to  convert  their  pre- 
cious so  tils  ;  now  the  mighty  capital  —  the  centre  of  civilixar 
tlon  in  North  America,  whose  influence  had  been  felt  from  the 
Mexique  Gnlf  to  the  Bay  of  Fundy,  along  either  shore  of  the 
continent — has  fallen;  Gnatemozin  is  captured;  the  wide 
rich  empire  lies  submissive  at  his  feet;  Cortes  himself — all 
iron  as  he  waa  and  smeared  with  guiltless  blood  —  is  moved 
with  compassion  ;  the  nation  is  to  be  blotted  out.  But  Mr. 
Prescott  has  no  sympathy  with  the  Mexicans  ;  nay,  he  pauses 
to  avert  the  sympathy  of  other  men,  interposing  his  shield 
of  ice  between  the  yietim  and  the  compassion  of  mankind. 
He  says ; 

**  We  cannot  regret  the  fall  of  an  empire  which  did  so  little  to 
promote  the  happiness  of  its  subjecta  or  the  real  interests  of 
humanity*"  "  The  Ajitec^s  were  emphatically  a  florce  and  brutal 
race,  little  calculated,  in  their  best  aspects,  to  excite  our  sympa- 
thy and  regard-    Their  civilization,  such  as  it  was^  wa^  not  their 

VOL.  m  SH 


466  Prescott's  0(mque$t  of  Mexico.  [Sept« 

own,  bot  reflected,  perhaps  imperfectly*  from  a  race  whom  thej 
had  succeeded.  ...  It  was  a  generoas  graft  on  a  vicious 
stock,  and  could  have  brought  no  fruit  to  perfection.  They  ruled 
over  their  wide  domains  with  a  sword  instead  of  a  sceptre.  They 
did  nothing  in  any  way  to  ameliorate  the  condition,  or  in  any  way 
promote  the  progress,  of  their  vassals.  Their  vassals  were  serfs, 
used  only  to  minister  to  their  pleasure."   (Vol.  IIL,  pp.  215, 216.) 

"  The  feeble  light  of  civilization,"  he  says,  "  was  growing 
fidnter  and  fidnter."  He  ^ves  not  a  ^gle  fact  to  warrant 
this  latter  statement,  but  even  if  it  were  true,  the  Spaniards 
did  not  mend  the  matter  by  overtoming  the  candlestick  and 
putting  their  bloody  heel  on  the  flickering  torch.  He  attempts 
to  remove  any  little  compassioD  which  may  linger  in  his  r^ul- 
er's  heart:  the  Mexicans  were  guilty  of  human  sacrifices; 
they  also  were  cannibals.  True,  and  it  is  a  horrible  thing  to 
think  of;  but  think  of  the  butcheries  committed  by  the  Span- 
iards, also  in  the  name  of  God  ;  try  each  nation  by  its  light, 
and  which  is  tiie  worse  —  the  cannibal  or  the  Christian  ?  Mr. 
Prescott  tries  to  excuse  the  barbarities  of  tiie  conquerors: 
when  any  of  the  inhabitants  fell  into  their  hands,  ^^  they  were 
kmdly  entertained,  their  wants  supplied,  and  every  means 
taken  to  infuse  into  them  a  spirit  of  conciliation."  The  sad 
shades  of  Montezuma  and  Onatemorin  —  what  will  they  say 
to  tiiat  ?  Diaz  informs  us  of  the  ^^  means  taken  "  in  many  an 
instance.  They  were  reduced  to  slavery,  branded  with  a  hot 
iron  in  the  cheek.  This  was  tiie  kindly  entertainment  they 
met  with  from  those  Christian  missionaries,  who  held  their 
lands  on  condition  of  converting  the  natives.  We  mi^t  nat- 
urally look  for  justice  from  an  American  writer,  with  no 
national  prejudice  to  blind  him.  But  no,  bis  sympathy  is 
wholly  with  the  conquerors ;  the  Spirit  of  Chivalry  is  mightier 
with  him  than  the  Spirit  of  Humanity.  Bustamente,  however, 
spite  of  the  Spanish  blood  in  his  veins,  writing  on  the  spot 
xnade  famous  by  the  deeds  of  Cortes  and  his  foUowers,  wishes 
a  monument  might  be  erected  to  Guatemozin,  on  the  spot 
where  he  was  taken  captive,  and  an  inscription  thereon  to 
^^  devote  to  eternal  execration  the  detested  memory  of  those 
banditti."  The  work  is  needless ;  themselves  have  erected  a 
monument  ^^  more  lasting  than  brass,"  telling  of  their  power 
and  their  prowess,  but  also  of  their  more  than  heathen  cruelty, 
their  tyranny,  and  their  shame.  The  rhetoric  of  Mr.  Prescott 
cannot  hide  them  from  the  justice  of  mankind. 


1849.]  Preeoott's  Oanqtugt  of  Mexico.  467 

We  have  little  to  say  of  the  subset juent  career  of  Cortes. 
He  made  a  bold  and  desperate  expedition  to  the  southern  jart 
of  North  America,  enduring  wonderful  hardships ,  fighting  with 
bis  usual  skill  and  courage,  Mexico  was  settled  bj  hungry 
Spaniards,  the  natives  mainly  reduced  to  slavery.  Cortes 
became  rich  and  powerful.  Ue  was  accused  before  the  Em- 
peror, and  defended  himself*  He  received  great  honors  in 
Spain,  when  he  returned  thither.  He  settled  down  on  an 
estate  in  Mexico.  He  died  at  length  in  Spain,  but  in  his 
will  expresses  doubts  "  whether  one  can  conscientiously  hold 
property  in  Indian  slaves/'  Mr,  Prescott  writes  the  eulogy 
of  his  hero,  which  we  have  not  space  to  criticize.  But  there 
arc  two  ways  of  judging  such  a  nian  :  one  is  that  of  Human* 
ity.  Here  the  inquirer  looks  over  the  whole  field  of  history, 
impartially  weighs  the  good  and  ill  of  a  man,  allows  for  his 
failings  if  they  belong  to  his  age,  and  detracts  from  his  Id  di- 
vidual merits  if  they  also  are  held  in  common  with  the  mass 
of  men,  but  judges  the  age  and  its  institutions  by  the  standard 
of  absolute  justice.  This  is  the  work  of  tlie  philosophic 
historian.  The  other  way  is  that  of  Personal  Admiration  of 
the  hero.  We  are  sorry  to  say  that  Mr.  Prescott  haa  taken 
the  latter  course*  Crime  is  one  thing ;  but  the  theory  which 
excuses,  defends,  justifies  crime  is  quite  a  different  thing,  is 
itself  not  to  be  justified,  defended,  or  excused.  We  are  sorry 
to  add  the  name  of  Mr*  Prescott  to  the  long  list  of  writers 
who  have  a  theory  which  attempts  to  justify  the  crime  against 
mankind,  the  tyranny  of  Might  over  Kight*  We  are  sorry  to 
say  of  thid  work  in  general,  and  on  the  whole,  that  it  is  not 
written  in  the  Philosophy  of  this  age,  and,  still  worse,  not  in 
the  Christianity,  the  wide  Humanity,  which  is  of  mankind. 
We  know  this  is  a  severe  judgment,  and  wish  we  might  be 
mistaken  in  pronouncing  it,  but  such  are  the  facts, 

Mr,  Prescott  has  little  sympathy  with  the  natives,  Marina, 
unmarried  and  a  captive,  becomes  the  concubine  of  Cort6s, 
a  married  man  and  a  conqueror.  Her  religion  allowed  th^ 
connection,  it  was  not  uncommon  ;  his  rehgion  forbade  it,  and 
he  was  living  "  in  mortal  sin/'  She  seems  to  have  loved  him 
truly  and  with  all  her  heart.  To  him  she  was  a  useful  instru- 
ment, personalty  as  his  concubine,  politically  as  his  interpreter 
and  diplomatic  agent-  Mr,  Prescott  says,  **  she  had  her  er- 
rors, as  we  have  seen,**  (Vol,  I,,  p,  297,)  The  only  error 
be  alludes  to  was  her  connection  with  Cortes,  not  held  unlaw- 
ful, against  nature  or  custom^  there  i  but  no  censure  is  paeidd 


468  Prescott's  O&n^pm^  of  MMoo.  [Sept« 

on  Cortes,  though  be  had  a  wife  at  Cuba.  When  his  wife  dies, 
Marina  nught  be  lawfully  married  to  him,  if  he  would ;  she 
had  borne  him  a  son,  l^e  unfortunate  Don  Martin  Crort^s. 
But  he  did  not  want  an  Indian  woman  for  his  wife,  whateyer 
might  be  her  serrices,  her  love  for  him,  or  the  connectioQ 
between  them,  or  the  children  she  had  borne  him.  He  must 
wed  one  of  the  titled  dames  of  Spwi,  daughter  of  tiie  Count 
de  Aguilar,  beautiful  and  '^  much  younger  than  himself,"  and 
Cortes  ^^  gave  Marina  away  to  a  Gast^an  knight,  Don  Juaa 
Xamarillo,  to  whom  she  was  wedded  as  his  lawful  wife,"  says 
Mr.  Prescott,  who  makes  no  comment  on  this  transaction,  and 
does  not  even  menti<m  it  as  one  of  the  ^^  errors  "  of  his  hero  ! 
Mr.  Prescott  takes  sides  with  the  Spaniards,  passes  over 
much  of  their  cruelty  in  silence,  and  often  apolo^zes  for  what 
he  relates,  suggesting  some  idle  circumstanee  which  takes  off 
the  edge  of  indignation  from  the  reader,  careless,  sup^cial, 
and  requiring  a  moral  stimulus  fix>m  his  instructor.  In  his 
narrative  he  degrades  the  Mexicans  fighting  for  their  homes 
and  the  altars  of  their  gods,  not  less  fondly  cherished  than  the 
homes  and  the  faith  of  Christians.  The  Spaniards  are  brave, 
chivalrous,  heroic.  Their  victims,  he  tells  us,  ^^  filled  the  air 
with  wild  cries  and  bowlings  like  a  herd  of  raventms  lodveM 
disappointed  of  their  prey.^^  (Vol.  HI.,  p.  117.)  In  the 
attack  on  Mexico,  a  Spanish  ensign  narrowly  escaped  falling 
into  the  hands  of  his  foe :  ^^  The  barbarians^  sajrs  Mr.  I^'ce- 
oott,  ^^  set  up  a  art/ of  disappointed  rageP  (P.  146.)  Again, 
at  sight  of  the  enemy  ana  of  the  sacrifice  of  prisoners  g(nng 
on  in  the  temple,  the  Mexicans  ^^  Ulu  vultures  maddened  by 
the  smell  of  distant  carrion,  .  .  .  setup  a  piercing  cry  J* 
(P.  155.)  The  efforts  of  Gkiatemorin  to  defend  his  capital 
were  ^^  menaces  and  machinations^*  (p.  162)  ;  tiie  Mexicans 
"  raged  with  impotent  anger,  as  they  beheld  tiieir  lordly  edi- 
fices, their  temples,  all  they  had  been  accustomed  to  venerate, 
ihiu  swept  away."  (P.  171.)  K  we  remember  ari^t,  the 
Jews  mourned  a  littie  when  Tism  was  trodden  under  foot  of 
the  nations,  but  we  should  not  envy  the  heart  of  the  historian 
who  should  say  of  the  Jerenuahs  of  that  time,  that  they  ^^  raged 
witii  impotent  anger."  Even  Cortes  thought  it  a  «id  sight, 
i^Queera  lasUma  cierto  de  lo  ver,)  **but  we  were  forced  to  it." 
'Wlien  driven  to  despair,  some  Mexicans,  valiant  as  Leonidas, 

"in  the  public  breach  deyoted  stood, 
And  for  their  eonntrys  cause  were  prodigal  of  blood." 


1849.]  Frescott's  Cmquut  of  Mexico.  469 

They  would  not  ask  for  mercy  ■  Mr.  Prescott  says  tiiey 
"  glared  on  tlie  invadenf  with  tlie  millen  ferocity  of  the 
womided  tiffer^  that  the  huntsman  has  tracked  to  his  forest 
cave/'  (P.  176,)  Even  the  heroism  of  Guatemosin  is  only 
a  "  haughty  wpiriV^ 

Tlie  Spaniards  established  a  form  of  slavery  worse  than  that 
of  the  heathens.  If  the  Mexicans  did  little  for  their  vassals 
—  what  did  their  conrjuerors  do  ?  Mr.  Prescott  passes  over 
the  horrors  of  the  slavery  established  there ;  excuses  the 
founders  for  their  offence :  Columbus  had  done  the  same ! 
"  Three  Hieronyraite  friars  and  an  eminent  Jesuit,  all  men  of 
leaniing  and  unhlemirfied  piety,"  were  sent  out  to  investigate 
the  condition  of  the  natives.  They  justified  slavery :  the 
Indiana  would  not  work  without  compulsion ;  unless  they 
worked^  they  would  not  be  connected  with  the  whites,  and 
without  that  connection  would  not  be  "  converted,"  and  of 
course  not  "  saved/'  Slavery,  therefore,  ift  as  their  only  road 
to  escape  damnation.  We  must  confess  our  amazement  that  a 
man  of  liberal  culture,  in  the  midst  of  a  Christian  country, 
writing  of  such  cruelties  as  the  Spaniards  practised  on  their 
victims,  reducing  millions  of  freemen  to  such  a  condition, 
should  have  no  more  condemnation  for  such  atrocitieSp  How 
fill  all  we  explain  tho  fact  ?  Can  it  be  that  the  commercial 
atmosphere  of  Boston  had  stifled  tlie  natural  and  nobler  breath 
of  the  historian  ?     We  know  not. 

There  was  one  Spaniard  who  steadfastly  opposed  the  enslav* 
ing  of  the  Indians  —  the  Dominican  Las  Casas,  a  man  who 
all  his  life  sought  continually  one  great  end,  the  welfare  of  the 
Indians,  Mr.  Prescott  bestows  well-deserved  encomiums  ujion 
him ;  often  praises  him ;  yet  we  think  he  is  the  only  author  of 
all  whom  Mr.  Prescott  quotes  tliat  can  complain  of  the  small- 
est injustice  at  his  hands. 

It  now  remains  to  speak  briefly  of  the  form  of  the  work. 
The  division  into  books  and  chapters  is  sufficiently  good*  The 
style  is  clear  and  simjile,  though  a  little  less  carefully  labored 
than  in  his  earlier  work.  The  references  are  abundant,  and, 
so  far  as  we  have  examined  them,  distinguished  hy  the  same 
accuracy  which  we  noticed  in  the  former  History.  Occasionally 
there  is  a  little  harmless  pedantry.  Thus,  (YoL  I,,  p*  287,) 
in  the  text,  he  says,  that  Cortes  told  his  men  to  aim  at  the 
faces  of  the  foe,  and  in  the  margin  quotes  Lucan,  to  remind 
US  that  the  veterans  of  Ceeaar  hit  the  dandies  of  Fompey*s 


470  Prescott's  OonqueU  of  Mexico.  [Sept« 

army  in  the  same  waj.    Bat  each  things  are  rare,  and  by  no 
means  disagreeable.  . 

He  often  refers  events  to  Pro?idence  whioh  other  men  ^ 
would  be  content  with  ascribing  to  human  agency.  Thus  he  ^ 
says,  "it  was  beneficently  ordered  by  Providence  that  the 
land  [of  the  Mexicans]  should  be  delivered* over  to  anoUier 
race,  who  would  rescue  it  from  the  brutish  superstitions  that 
daily  extended  wider  and  wider."  (Vol.  I.,  p.  85.)  But  in 
the  same  manner  "  it  was  beneficently  ordered  by  Providence  '* 
that  merchant  ships  should  be  delivered  over  to  Admiral 
Drake,  or  Captiun  Kidd ;  that  the  Indians  of  Massachusetts 
should  butcher  the  white  men  at  Deerfield,  and  the  whites 
should  carry  the  head  of  King  Philip  on  a  pole  into  Plymouth 
and  sell  his  family  into  slavery.  Again,  speaking  of  Cortes, 
he  tells  us,  "  Providence  reserved  him  for  higher  ends,"  and 
that  he  was  "  the  instrument  selected  by  Providence  to  scatter 
terror  among  the  barbarian  monarchs  of  the  western  worid, 
and  lay  their  empire  in  the  dust."  (Pp.  286,  260.)  Mon- 
tezuma "  was  the  sad  victim  of  destiny. ^^  (Vol.  11.,  p.  861.) 
But  all  this  providential  action  is  in  behalf  of  the  invaders. 
Cau%a  victrix  placet  dm. 

The  figures  of  speech  are  commonplace ;  we  do  not  remem- 
ber one  that  is  original,  except  that  already  quoted,  in  which 
the  Mexicans  are  compared  to  "  vultures  maddened  by  the 
smell  of  distant  carrion."  Few  of  them  are  elegant  or  ex- 
pressive enough  to  deepen  the  impression  of  the  simple  state- 
ment of  the  fact.  One  figure,  to  ^^  spread  like  wildfire^** 
which  is  a  favorite  in  the  ^tory  of  Spam,  appears  also  and 
frequently  in  this  work.  Others  are  poor  and  common :  —  to 
crowd  "  Uke  a  herd  of  deer,"  or  a  "  herd  of  wolves  "  ;  to  be 
"  pale  as  death  "  ;  to  **  rush  like  a  torrent "  ;  to  swarm  "  like 
famished  harpies,"  and  to  be  led  "  like  sheep  to  the  slaugh- 
ter." They  add  little  to  the  freshness  or  beauty  of  the  style, 
and  do  not  impress  us  very  forcibly  with  the  originality  of  the 
author. 

Here  we  take  leave  of  the  historian,  for  the  present,  with 
the  same  impression  as  that  left  on  us  by  the  former  work.* 

^  8ee  Na  VI.  of  this  jotmal,  Art.  IV.,  p.  24S,  ad  Jkrnn. 


1849.]  AngduB  SOegius.  471 


Akt.  V,  — ANGELUS  SILESTUS,  the  CBiaiUBlC 
PILGRIM, 

Religiox  IB  the  life  and  soul  of  atiy  age  and  of  any  maUi 
even  of  those  we  are  apt  to  charge  with  indifftjreiitigm  or  athe- 
ism. But  the  BO  111  13  often  so  locked  up  in  the  body,  like  the 
spark  in  the  flint,  that  it  requires  the  hard  eteel-stroke  of  ad- 
versity to  draw  it  forth.  Hence  it  comes  that  periods  which 
in  all  other  respects  are  most  barren  and  dcHolate,  not  uncom- 
monly exhibit  the  tree  of  rohgioua  life  in  fullest  bloona. 

Germau  History  prcseiib*  no  drearier  page  than  that  i?f  tho 
first  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  Tlio  empire  distracted 
with  a  long  and  furious  civil  and  religious  war ;  Emperors  and 
Princes,  Cathohcs  and  Protestants,  South  and  North,  in  arms 
against  each  other ;  the  peasant  and  citizen  pillaged  and  tor* 
tared  and  murdered  by  a  cruel  and  lawless  soldierj,  headed 
by  cruel  and  lawless  generals  ;  the  stranger  invading  the 
frontiers;  Swedish  and  French  armies  lording  it  on  Germaa 
ground,  and  laying  wa^te  the  Tand ;  the  national  glory  and 
honor  stained ;  the  Church  of  Christ  profaned ;  all  laws*  human 
and  divine,  trodden  under  foot  by  a  cruel,  avaricious,  hypocrit- 
ical selfishness,  wHchj  vainly  trying  to  slake  its  thirst,  w^as 
deluging  the  country  with  blood*  And  yet,  in  the  midst  of 
thiii  waste  howling  wilderness,  wheriy  all  obscene  and  angry 
paseionst  like  so  many  jackals  and  hyenasj  were  prowling 
about,  we  find  here  and  there  an  oasis,  full  of  refreahing  shade, 
and  watered  with  a  clear  fresh  spring,  around  which  sweetest 
flowers  were  blowing,  breathing  their  perfume  into  the  desert 
air.  Poetry,  faithful  t^  her  mission  of  blii?s,  was  still  there  to 
throw  her  magic  veil  over  the  dreary  desert,  to  sing  the  weary 
and  disconsolate  heart  to  sleep,  and  with  her  enchanter's  wand 
called  up  before  the  dreaming  eye  a  perspective  of  peace  and 
happiness,  which,  like  a  sloping  Jacob's  ladder,  began  on  earth, 
but  gradually  lost  itself  in  heaven,  Never  since  the  timea 
of  the  Minnesingers,  that  is,  during  more  than  tliree  hundred 
years,  had  Germany  possessed  such  a  number  of  good  and 
earnest  men.  who,  if  they  were  not  poets  in  the  highest  mnm 
of  the  word,  could  at  kMt,  without  arrogance,  apply  to  thcuh 
selves  the  words  of  Goethe : 

'*  Und  wttm  Aw  McDftcb  m  'winter  Qtinl  rentummt 
Oab  mir  eia  Gotl  m  tft^tt^  u^iis  kh  Itide^" 
Whili^t  othcrr  rnett  nrn  Anmh  with  Hlitlnij;  imgaittu 
A  Qod  g»ve  m«  lo  $prak  «ctd  mng  mj  w^e. 


472  AngdoB  /SUmmm.  [Sap*. 

Ojntz,  Fleming,  Ghyphias,  Losan,  Spee,  Simon  Dach,  Oer> 
hard,  cooBtitate  a  new  era  in  &e  historj  of  G^erman  poetry. 
The  night  was  dark  indeed ;  bat  there  were  8(Hne  bri^t  and 
blessed  stars  which  pierced  the  black  clond-wall,  and  shcme  aa 
«« lighto  in  darkness,"  giving  assoranee  to  the  doubting  heart 
that,  though  y^ed  for  the  moment,  heaven  and  its  hc^es  still 
remained.  Such  were  those  deep  and  earnest  spirits  who, 
from  the  inwardness  and  unearthliness  of  their  life  and  the 
twilight  glimmerings  in  their  thinking,  now  in  praise  and  now 
m  blame,  have  been  called  Mystics. 

The  natural  tendency  of  aU  life,  when  left  to  its  own  im- 
pulse, is  to  unfold  itself  like  the  flower  and  to  pour  the 
ripened  energies  of  body  and  soul  into  the  lap  of  mother 
E^urth.  But  when,  as  in  the  times  we  were  speaking  of,  this 
inward  impulse  meets  with  outward  obstacles,  when  a  cold  and 
stormy  world  checks  and  chills  the  genial  current  of  the  soul ; 
then  the  soul — for  live  and  act  it  must,  in  spite  of  all  ob- 
stacles,—  recoils  upon  itself,  and  turns  inwards  its  faedties, 
its  eyes  and  hands,  which  had  been  turned  outwards,  and  tries 
to  realiie,  in  an  ideal  world  ef  its  own,  the  plans  which  it 
could  not  realise  in  the  actual. 

<*l8t  die  Welt  gleich  kalt  nod  ense, 
Bleibt  das  Hera  doch  warm  una  weit, 
Anmen  toU  das  Zeitpedrlnge, 
Innen  blfiht  mir  Ewigkeit" 

Tboiu;h  the  wodd  be  oold  and  nanow, 
Tet  t&e  heart  is  warm  and  free ; 
Wild  without  the  times  are  storming, 
Blooms  within  Eternity. 

It  is  but  natural  that  we  should  know  little  about  the  out- 
ward circumstances  of  men  who  were  dead  to  the  world  and 
whose  life  was  hid  in  Ood. 

The  few  notices  we  have  been  able  to  gather  concerning  the 
man  whose  name  heads  this  article,  and  who  occasioned  these 
introductory  remarks,  are  contsuned  in  the  following  lines. 

JoHAimBS  SoHEFFLER,  generally  called  by  his  adopted  liter- 
ary name,  Johannes  Angelus  Silesius,  was  bom  about  the 
year  1624,  m  a  town  of  Silesia,  it  is  uncertain  whether  in  Bres- 
lau  or  Glatz.  His  parents  were  Lutherans,  and  he  was,  accord- 
ingly, brought  up  in  the  doctrines  of  that  church.  But  his 
deep  and  fervent  soul  could  not  Icmg  be  satisfied  with  the 
barren  formulas  of  school  theology  ai^  tiie  idle  logcnnachies 


1849.]  Angdm  BOstm.  478 

into  whioh  Lutliemnbm,  soon  after  the  death  of  its  great 
founder,  had  degeaerated.  He  was  thirsting  for  the  living 
water  of  an  in  ward  j  heart-regenerating  religion,  and  he  there- 
fore turned  from  the  dead  stone  churches  of  the  acknowledged 
creed  to  the  living  Spirit*8  Temple  of  the  Mjstic.  With  a 
gpdly  daringj  he  plunged  himself  into  the  dark  deep  of  a 
Tauler,  Eckard,  Suao,  Euysbroek,  Schwenkfcld,  and^  above 
all,  Jacob  Bochme,  and  lo !  the  darknesa  became  light  to  him, 
and  many  a  pearl  of  priceless  ralue  brought  he  up  with  Mm 
from  the  bottom* 

He  had  been  studying  Medietne.  As  soon  as  he  had  taken 
the  Doctor's  degree,  he  went  to  Holland,  where  Myatieiam 
had  found  a  more  genial  soil  than  even  in  Germ  any,  and 
where  particularly  liie  writings  of  Jacob  Boehme  had  gathered 
around  them  a  number  of  fervent  and  enthusiastic  disciples* 
Angelus  was  here  in  his  element,  and  it  was  with  the  greatest 
regret  he  tore  himself  away  from  ao  congenial  a  circle  when 
his  circumstances  required  his  return  home.  Had  he  before 
been  dissatisEed  with  Lutheranism,  he  became  a  thousand 
times  more  so  when  his  experience  in  the  liberal  Holland  ena- 
bled him  to  form  a  contrast.  He  was  sick  of  the  dryness, 
heart] essnesa,  and  inconsistency  of  Protestant  theology,  and 
of  the  arrogance,  petulanccj  and  intolerance  of  the  Protestant 
clergy.  When,  shortly  after  his  return,  he  became  physician 
in  ordinary  to  the  duke  of  Wurtemberg*OeIa,  he  began  to  ^vo 
a  public  expression  to  his  sentiments.  This  brought  him  in 
violent  collision  with  the  clergy  of  0 els,  and  a  quarrel  arose, 
which  was  carried  on  with  such  bitterness  that  Angel  us,  led 
by  his  exasperation,  was  induced  to  take  a  step  that  decided 
his  course  for  life,  and  which,  though  we  may  be  able  to  ac- 
count for  J  we  can  by  no  means  approve  of*    He  turned  Catholic. 

For  a  spirit  who  had  stood  on  the  height  which  some  of  his 
poems  evince,  this  waa  indeed  a  lamentable  fall.  Wc  should 
be  grossly  misunderstood  if  we  were  thought  to  mean  by  this 
that  Catholicism  is  worse  than  Protestantism,  —  very  far  from 
that ;  but  Angelus  had  known  something  which  was  infinitely 
better  than  either-  However,  we  have  all  had  our  hours  of 
weakness,  when  many  a  divine  word,  addressed  to  us  from 
within  or  without,  seems  to  us  '^  a  hard  saying,  who  can  bear 
it  ? "  and  when  the  **  worship  of  God  in  spirit  and  in  truth  " 
seemed  too  high  and  transcendental  for  the  slave  of  custom 
and  the  creature  of  fleah ;  we  might  pardon  jHJor  Angelus, 
had  he  only  tbund  in  the  bosom  of  Mater  Ecclcsia  that  peace 


474  Angdm  SikikiM.  [Sept. 

and  rest  which  he  had  vainlj  soag^t  for  amongst  the  P^ytea- 
tant  sects.  But  alas !  we  haie  but  too  much  reason  to  doubt  it. 
The  intolerant  and  fanatic  tone  which  embitters  his  polemical 
tracts  written  after  he  joined  the  church,  exhibit  a  sad  con- 
trast with  the  heayenlj  peace  and  cheerfulness  that  breathe 
through  his  poesies  wmch  were  composed  a  long  time  before, 
and  shows — what  so  often  since  has  been  shown  bj  similar 
cases — that  the  best  heart  and  the  strongest  head  are  not 
|»roof  agamst  the  baneful  influence  of  a  heart-chilling,  mind- 
narrowing  church  creed. 

After  many  vicismtudes,  which  carried  him  at  last  to  &e 
court  of  Emperor  Ferdinand  the  Third  in  Vienna,  he  took 
priest's  orders,  and  toward  the  end  of  his  life,  he  sou^t  a 
retirement  in  the  convent  of  Sidnt  Mathias,  where  he  changed 
this  world  of  strife  and  doubt  for  the  better  one,  July  9th,  1677. 

All  the  really  valuable  works  of  Angelus  had  been  written, 
as  above  said,  before  he  joined  the  Church  of  Rome  ;  that  is, 
when  he  was  neither  Catholic  nor  Protestant,  but  Christian. 
It  is  true,  we  use  the  latter  word  in  a  sense  in  which  hardly 
any  established  church  ever  either  claimed  or  deserved  the 
title.  We  have  several  collections  of  religious  poetry  by  him 
which,  for  the  most  part,  are  tainted  witib  the  same  defects 
which  disfigured  the  religious  poetry  of  that  age,  no  more  in 
Germany  &an  elsewhere,  (that  of  tiie  English  Quarles,  Ora- 
shaw,  and  even  the  excellent  Greorge  Herbert,)  but  partic* 
ularly  in  the  Catholic  countries  of  Spain  and  Italy — quaint- 
ness  of  tone,  wit,  and  expressiou,  a  sickly  sentimentcdity,  and  a 
childish  toying  with  symbols.  However,  his  defects  he  shared 
with  his  times,  his  excellences  were  his  own.  Even  in  those 
collections  we  spoke  of  there  are  some  which,  in  the  intenseness 
of  a  pure  and  heavenly  love,  and  in  the  sweet  and  melodkms 
flow  of  the  versification,  are  only  rivalled  by  the  spiritual 
songs  of  Luis  Ponce  de  Leon  and  Novalis. 

But  the  chief  work  of  Angelus,  that  in  which  he  laid  down 
the  law  of  all  his  deepest  living  and  thinking,  and  on  which 
his  fame  as  a  theosophical  Poet  is  msdnly  founded,  is  a  collec- 
tion of  rhymed  epigrams  in  six  books,  which  bears  this  titie : 
^^  JoJumnis  AngeU  SUesii  Cherubindacher  Wandersmann,  oder 
geUtreiche  Smn-und  Schlu89reime  zur  gottUchen  BeschauUch 
keit  anleUende  ;  "  that  is  —  The  Cherubic  Pilgrim,  or  spiritual 
Bhymes  and  Epigrams,  teaching  a  life  of  Divine  Contemplation. 
[*  We  venture  to  say  that  there  are  but  few  volumes  in  any 
language,  particularly  in  rhyme,  which  contain  within  so  short 


1849.]  AngdM  SOmM.  476 

a  compass  sach  a  number  of  thoughts,  the  deepest^  wiiest,  and 
holiest,  expressed  in  a  fono  bo  concise,  so  transparent^  and 
unavoidable*^  Many  a  one  of  them  might  bo  fitly  called  imrdi 
parvus  o^fitfz^  containing  the  quintessence  of  a  thousand  leaves 
written  with  theology  and  philosophy  ^  they  are  all  **'  apples  of 
gold  in  dishes  of  silver/* 

The  religion  preached  therein  b  indeed  not  that  of  Protest- 
antism or  Catholicifim,  of  Bible  or  Tradition,  but  that  of  the 
Everlasting  Gospel,  preached  and  confirmed  by  that  divina 
and  humane  Spirit  of  Wisdom  which  in  all  agee,  entering  Into 
holy  aouls,  made  them  friemla  of  Gods  and  prophets. 

The  preaching  of  Angelus,  in  common  with  that  of  all  his 
brother  Mystics,  is  distinguished  by  the  foUowbg  character- 
idtics : 

1  *  Rejcctiou  of  all  outward  authority^  be  it  that  of  men  or 
books »  of  bibles  or  councils,  of  popes  or  reformers.  The 
Jewish  bibliolatry  of  the  Protestant  churches  was  no  less  an 
abomination  to  them  than  the  heathenish  idolatry  of  the  Cath- 
olics and  their  belief  in  the  infallibility  of  councils  and  f^jpea. 
They  acknowledged  no  authority  but  that  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
revealing  himself  in  the  hearts  of  men* 

Novalis  says ;  *^  The  Holy  Ghost  must  be  our  teacher  of 
Christianity^  not  a  dead,  earthly »  equivocal  letter/* 

And  Jacob  Boehme ;  "The  written  word  is  but  an  instrument 
whereby  the  Spirit  leadeth  us  to  itself  within  us*"  **  Your 
councils  and  synods,  (speaking  to  the  priests,)  your  canons 
and  articles,  your  laws  and  ordinances,  are  all  mere  devilish 
presumption*  The  spirit  of  God  in  Christ  will  not  be  bound 
to  any  laws  of  men," 

2.  Rejection  of  all  mere  historical  belief  in  the  great  facta 
of  Christianity,  The  life  of  Christ,  according  to  them,  has  a 
symbolical  meaning,  and  only  when  thus  understood  and  ap- 
plied^ does  it  become  of  value  and  benefit  to  us.  Our  belief 
must  wear  itself  out  in  a  faithful  reproduction  ;  that  is,  imita- 
tion of  Christ's  life* 

Jacob  Bochnie  says :  ^*  Christianity  doth  not  consist  in  the 
mere  knowing  of  the  history  and  applying  the  knowledge 
thereof,  saying  that  Christ  died  for  us  and  hath  paid  the  ran- 
som for  us,  so  that  we  need  do  nothing  but  comfort  ourselves 
therewith  and  steadfastly  believe  that  it  is  so»  Christianity  is 
no  such  cheap  and  comfortable  thing.  Only  bo  k  a  true 
Christian  who  is  born  of  Christ." 

Our  Angelus  expresses  but  Uie  mind  of  all  bis  brethren 
when  he  saya :         _  ,  ,  ^  ^  ^  ,^^4  — 


47«  Amf^M  SOmm.  [Sept. 

^  The  efiMi  OB  GMgoAft  MB  MTVWfie  tigr  tod. 

The  crois  in  thine  own  heart  alone  can  nuike  thee  whole." 

Begenerfttion — ihat  sapBrnatural  new  btrfch  of  ttie  inner 
man  whioh  has  been  a  mystery  to  all  Pharisees,  Pnests,  aad 
Lentes,  ever  sinoe  the  days  of  Nicodemns  down  to  their  last- 
fashioned  representative  in  a  New  England  pulrat,  that  mi- 
racnloos  transubstantiatbn  of  the  earthly  into  uie  heartily 
through  the  all-mdting  power  of  a  divine  k>ve  —  is  the  char- 
acteristic centre-doctrine  of  all  Christian  Mvstios,  from  Samt 
John  and  Samt  Paul  to  Jacob  Boehme  and  Angelas. 

Let  me  quote  once  more  Jacob  Boehme : 

^Te  need  not  ask,  Where  is  Christ?  Is  he  in  the  baptism  or  in 
the  supper  ?  Is  he  in  the  reading  of  the  Bible  or  in  die  hearing 
of  the  minister?  Do  but  bend  your  heart,  soul,  and  mind  with  all 
their  strength  onto  Christ,  that  Christ  may  be  bom  in  you,  and 
then  ye  have  baptism  and  supper,  Bible  and  minister  within  you 
in  all  places  wheresoever  ye  are.  Men  tie  us  in  these  days  to  the 
history  and  to  the  material  churches  of  stone,  which  are  indeed 
good  in  their  kind  if  men  did  also  bring  the  temple  of  Christ  into 
the  Churches.  But  many  a  man  goeth  to  church  twenty  or  thirty 
years,  heareth  sermons  and  receiveth  the  sacraments,  and  yet  is 
as  much  a  beast  of  the  devil  at  the  last  as  at  the  first :  a  beast  he 
goeth  into  the  church,  and  a  beast  he  cometh  out  from  thence 
again.  What  good  end  doth  it  answer  for  me  to  go  to  the  mate- 
rial churches  of  stone,  and  there  to  fill  my  ears  with  empty  breath? 
Or  to  go  to  the  supper,  and  feed  nothing  but  the  earthly  mouth, 
which  is  mortal  and  corruptible  ?  Cannot  I  feed  and  satisfy  that 
with  a  piece  of  bread  at  home  ?  What  good  doth  it  do  the  soul, 
which  is  an  immortal  life,  to  have  the  bestial  man  observe  the 
form  and  venerate  the  shell  of  Christ's  Institutions,  if  it  cannot 
obtain  the  kernel  thereof?  Except  a  man  be  bom  again  he  can- 
not see  the  kingdom  of  God. 

**  But  the  holy  man,  I  mean  the  man  who  is  bora  again,  hath 
his  church,  wherein  he  heareth  and  teacheth,  about  him  every- 
where,—  even  in  himself:  for  he  always  standeth  and  walketh, 
sitteth  and  lyeth  down  in  his  church.  He  liveth  in  the  pure 
Christian  Church,  yea,  in  the  trae  Temple  of  Christ.  The  Holy 
Ghost  preacheth  to  him  out  of  every  creature.  Whatsoever  he 
looketh  upon,  he  seeth  a  preacher  of  God  therein.** 

8.  Another  characteristic  in  the  preaching  of  the  Mystics  is 
their  yearning  for  rest.  Gbd,  according  to  them,  is  a  blessed 
stillness. 

Angelus  dwells  upon  this  in  several  of  his  Epigrams,  as,  for 

instance, — 

''Rest  18  the  highest  good,  and  if  God  was  not  rest, 
Then  heaven  would  not  he  heaven,  and  angeb  not  be  Meet.** 


1849.]  Angdui  aOemM.  477 

4*  And  lastly,  they  lay  a  great  stress  \ipoii  a  perfect  unioo 
with  God,  Thia,  which  at  first  sight  seems  merely  an  explica- 
tion of  what  was  already  implied  in  the  doctrine  of  regenera- 
tion, they  carry  sometimes  so  far  as  to  destroy  all  individual 
distinction,  and  utterly  to  annihilate  every  diing  human  in  the 
all-absorbing  fire-ocean  of  divinity.  The  last  two  characterift- 
tics  the  Christian  Mystics  have  in  common  with  the  Persian 
Mystics,  particularly  with  the  greatest  of  them,  Dschelaleddin 
Pumi.  No  one,  however,  went  further  than  Angclus,  who  in 
some  of  his  epigrams  carries  this  pantheistic  confounding  of 
the  human  with  the  divine  to  such  a  pitch  as  appears  to  us 
absolutely  sinful  and  blasphemous.  A  single  glance  upwards 
to  the  stormy  sky  might  have  confounded  such  arrogance,  and 
brought  our  philosopher  on  his  knees.  For  the  love  we  bear 
him  we  have  suppressed  the  worst  of  these  Btains  in  his  other 
wise  pure  and  shining  wings,  and  kst  they  might  hold  back 
from  him  the  love  which  it  is  our  wish  to  gain  for  him  on  this 
his  first  introduction  to  an  English  and  American  public.  Let 
the  reader  judge  htm  for  the  present  only  by  the  following 
specimens  of  his  poetry  and  theosophy. 

r  fFHOSi   THE   GHEItUBIC   FILGHIHJ]  ' 

What  lam  and  what  IshaS  be* 
I  am  a  atreaitx  of  Time,  running  to  God  my  sea,        ^ 
But  once  I  shall  myself  the  eternal  ocean  be. 

7%e  Dew  and  tfte  Hme. 
God's  Spirit  falls  on  me  as  dew  drops  on  a  rose, 
If  I  but  like  a  rose  to  him  my  heart  unclose. 

3, 
7T^  highest  good. 
Best  is  the  highest  good  i  and  if  God  was  not  Rei^t 
Then  Heaven  would  not  be  Heaven,  and  Angels  not  be  blest 

4. 
T/*e  TahGmach. 
The  Boul  wherein  God  dwells  —  wliat  church  can  holier  be  ? 
Becomes  a  walking  tent  of  heavenly  migesty. 


478  Angelm  SiUtm^  [Sept. 

5. 

The  Bbh/  Night 
Lo !  in  the  silent  night  a  child  to  God  is  born. 
And  all  is  brought  again  that  e'er  was  lost  or  lorn. 
Could  but  thj  soul,  O  man,  become  a  silent  night, 
God  would  be  bom  in  thee  and  set  all  things  aright 

6. 
The  Difference. 
Te  know  Gk)d  but  as  lord,  hence  Lobd  his  name  with  ye, 
I  feel  him  but  as  love,  and  Loyb,  his  name  with  me. 

7. 
The  seatons  of  the  soul. 
Sin  is  Soul's  Winterfrost ;  Repentance  is  the  Spring ; 
Summer  the  mercj  state,  Autumn  good  works  will  bring. 

8. 
JBaw  far  from  here  to  Heaven  ? 
How  far  fh)m  here  to  Heaven  ?    Not  very  far,  my  fnend, 
A  single  hearty  step  will  all  thy  journey  end. 

9. 
Christ  must  be  bom  in  thee. 
Though  Christ  a  thousand  times  in  Bethlehem  be  bora, 
If  he 's  not  bom  in  Thee,  thy  soul  is  still  forlom. 

10. 
The  outward  profiteth  not. 
The  cross  on  Golgotha  will  never  save  thy  soul. 
The  cross  in  thine  own  heart  alone  can  make  thee  whole. 

11. 
Rise  thyself  from  the  dead! 
Christ  rose  not  from  the  dead,  Christ  still  is  in  the  grave, 
If  Thou,  for  whom  he  died,  art  still  of  sin  the  slave. 

12. 
Heaven  within  thee. 
Hold  there  I  where  runnest  thou  ?    Know  Heaven  is  in  thee. 
Seekst  thou  for  Grod  elsewhere,  his  face  thou  'It  never  see. 

13. 
The  onfy  want 's  in  ifiee. 
Ah  would  thy  heart  but  be  a  manger  for  the  birth, 
God  would  once  more  become  a  child  upon  this  earth. 


1849.]  Angdm  SOemu.  479 

14, 
See  God  in  ThysElf 
Pray  thee,  bow  looks  mj  God  ?     Go  and  thyself  beliold  ; 
Who  aeea  lum^if  in  God,  m^  God's  own  very  mould. 

15, 
77ie  soui  God^s  imtt^e* 
Qrod*3  very  image  lies  upon  Ebe  eouI  imprest, 
Happy  who  wears  such  coId^  in  purest  linen  drest* 

16. 
The  heart  encloses  God, 
Imtneasu table  in  the  Highest  —  who  but  knows  it  ? 
And  yet  a  human  heart  can  pexfectly  enclose  iL 

17. 
The  eyes  of  the  s&ui. 
Two  eyes  hath  every  soul ;  one  iato  Time  shall  see, 
The  other  bendg  its  ga^e  into  Eternity. 

18. 
The  seasons  of  the  day. 
In  HeaTen  Is  the  day,  in  Hell  below,  the  night : 
'T  is  twilight  hmt  on  Earth  i  consider  ihis  aright  I 

The  iovcliesi  tone. 
In  all  Eternity,  no  tone  e^an  be  6o  sweet        ^  -  ^ 

Ag  where  man*s  heart  with  God  in  unison  doth  heat 

Magnet  and  Steel 
God  is  a  magnet  atrongf  my  heart,  it  is  the  steeU 
*T  will  always  turn  to  him,  If  once  his  touch  it  feel* 

2L 
TfmsmftesL 
Love  is  the  swiftest  thing  ;  it  of  Itself  can  fly 
Up  to  the  highest  Heaven,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eyen. 

The  Rose. 

The  beauteous  rose  which  here  thiae  outward  eye  doth  see, 
Hath  blos^med  thus  in  Ood,  from  all  Eternity. 


{ 


480  Amgehu  SOmbm.  [Sept. 

98. 
God  M  me  and  ar&und  me. 
To  Dettj  am  I  the  cask  whidi  it  dolb  fill, 
And  it  is  my  ctoep  sea  that  doth^onoaad  me  tIalL 

24. 

Lov^s  tnmsubstamtiatum. 

Whatever  them  lorest,  man*  that  too  become  thoa  most : 

God  — if  thoulovestGod;  Dast— -if  thou  loveat  dust. 

25. 
Time  immemorioL 
Too  asKhow  k>og  it  is  since  Grod  himself  begot  ? 
Ah  me !  so  very  long,  himself  remembers  not. 

26. 
The  greatest  riddle. 
I  know  not  what  I  am,  I  am  not  what  I  know, 
A  thing  and  not  a  thing,  a  point,  and  circle  too. 

27. 
There  is  no  Death. 
I  do  n't  believe  in  Death.    If  honr  bj  hoar  I  die, 
'T  is  hour  bj  hoar  to  gain  a  better  life  thereby. 

28. 
How  to  become  immortoL 
Become  sabstantial,  man,  for  when  the  world  shall  die, 
All  aoddent  shall  pass,  bat  sabstance  will  able. 

29. 
«  The  toett  is  deepJ'^Johnj  nr.,  11. 
Why  shonldst  thon  cry  for  drink  ?    The  foontain  is  in  thee 
Which,  so  thoa  stopp'st  it  not,  will  flow  eternally. 

30. 
Alas  !  wkf^  can  ti>enot? 
Why  can  we  not,  we  men,  as  birds  do  in  the  wood. 
Mingle  our  voices  too— -a  happy  brothertiood  ? 

81. 
Love  is  not  to  be  defined. 
One  only  .thing  I  love,  yet  know  not  what  it  is, 
And  that  I  know  it  not,  makes  it  the  greater  bliss. 


1849.]  Anffdus  SOesiui.  481 

82. 
The  Holy  of  JHoHes. 
No  holier  sanctuary  on  earth  has  ever  been 
Than  in  body  chaste,  a  soal  that 's  void  of  sin. 

33. 
Quiet  Love  is  strongest  Love. 
Love  is  like  wine.    When  young,  't  will  boil  and  overflow ; 
The  older  it  will  grow  the  milder  will  it  grow. 

34. 
The  best  preeichers. 
What  is  a  sinless  state  ?    No  priest  can  ever  teach  thee 
What,  eloquently  dumb,  the  pious  flowers  will  preach  thee. 

35. 
Skmble  and  free. 
From  lowly  daisies  learn,  O  men  !  how  ye  may  be 
Both  good  and  beautiful,  humble  in  heart  and  free. 

36. 
The  rich  Foot, 
The  old  man  swims  in  gold,  yet  talks  of  poverty. 
He  speaks  but  what  is  true,  no  poorer  wretch  than  he. 

37. 
The  most  effectttal  prayer. 
The  sleep  of  his  Beloved,  much  more  with  God  will  do, 
Than  when  the  wicked  wake  and  pray  the  whole  night  through. 

38. 
There  Uves  no  Sinner, 
There  lives  no  sinner.    "  How  ?    Is  not  this  man  a  sinner  ?  " 
A  sinner  he  may  be,  but  he  Uves  not,  as  sinner. 

39. 
To  Theologians, 
Within  this  span  of  time,  God's  name  ye  will  unfold, 
Which  in  £temities  can  never  quite  be  told. 

40. 
Divine  passiveness. 
Go  out —  Grod  will  go  in ;  die  thou  and  let  him  live, 
Be  not,  and  he  will  be ;  wait,  and  he  'U  all  things  give. 

NO.  vni.  82 


482  An^ekie  SiUuim.  [S^yU 

41. 
Self-mO  the  fall  of  man. 
If  Christ  had  self-will  left,  though  he  be  Uest  of  all, 
Believe  me,  Christ  himself  would  fall  in  Adam's  faU. 

42. 

The  soul  that 's  truly  blest,  knows  not  of  selfishness : 
She  is  one  light  with  God,  with  Grod  one  Blessedness. 

43. 
WukcniJLa%Johy. 
The  rose  knows  of  no  why.    It  blows  because  it  Uoweth, 
And.eareless  of  itself,  to  all  its  beauties  showeth. 

44 
^ThtUstpwtP 
To  work  is  good  enough,  still  better  is  to  pray, 
The  best — to  bve  thy  God,  and  not  a  word  to  say. 

45. 

God  is  a  blessed  sliUness. 
We  pray  **  On  earth,  in  heaven,  O  Lord  be  done  thy  will," 
And  yet  God  has  no  will»  but  is  forever  still. 

46. 
Man  tranrformed  to  God. 
Before  I  was  a  Me,  in  Grod  then  was  I  God, 
As  soon  as  I  shall  die  I  shall  again  be  God. 

47. 

HeU  is  n^tere  CM  is  not. 
If  thou  diest  without  God — though  Christ  gained  Heaven  fiar  thee. 
Thy  life  will  be  a  Hell,  wherever  thou  may'st  be. 

48. 
God  alone  is  great. 
Nothing  is  great  but  God ;  Even  Heaven's  boundless  hall 
Is  for  a  God-full  soul  much,  O  how  much  I  too  small. 

49. 
The  ^fistest  sight. 
Fair  is  Aurora,  Beut,  but  still  a  soul 's  more  fair, 
When  after  a  long  night  the  sun,  God,  riseth  there. 


1849.]  Angtlm  SiUrim.  483 

50. 
Ijgnis  fatuus. 
Who  runneth  not  with  Love,  wiU  always  run  astray, 
And  Ignis  fatnos  Hke,  to  Heaven  not  find  the  way. 

5L 

Tfw  noblest  h  the  cmnmonest 
The  nobler  is  a  thing,  the  commoner  it  will  be. 
The  ion,  the  heavens,  and  God,  what  commoner  llian  tliese  three  ? 

The  phUosophicai  Janus* 
Alternately  I  must,  when  at  this  world  I  peep^ 
Laugh  with  Democntus,  with  Heraclittis  weep.  ^r  • 

The  oM  ones  like  the  young  ones~ 
Tliou  BTnilest  at  the  child  that  cryeth  (or  his  toy% 
Are  thoy  less  toys,  old  man,  which  muse  thy  gricft  and  joy^  ? 

54 
Si^hfor  God. 
God  is  a  mighty  sea»  unftithomed  and  nnbound,  "^  ' 

Oh  in  thii  blessed  deep,  may  ail  my  soul  be  drowned. 

55. 

The  shortest  tray  to  God* 
To  bring  thee  to  thy  God,  LoTe  t^ikes  the  c^hortest  route  j 
The  way  which  Knowledge  leads,  Is  but  a  roundabout      ^ 

M  is  here ! 
Why  travel  over  se«s  to  find  what  Is  so  near  ? 
Love  is  the  only  good  j  love  and  be  blessed  here* 

57. 
"•  CM  is  no  talker. 

Ko  one  talks  less  than  Gtjd,  the  all-creating  Lord* 
From  all  eternky  he  speaketU  but  one  wortL 

Descent  to  HeU* 
Once,  Christian,  once  like  Chri§ti  thou  must  to  Ilel!  descend- 
TVUt  thou  like  victor  Christy  again  to  Heaven  aicend- 


484  Angdus  SiUmu.  [Sept. 

59. 
Neither  vnthout  the  other. 
It  must  be  done  bj  both,  Grod  never  without  me, 
I  never  without  God,  myself  from  Death  can  firee. 

60. 
Drive  out  the  world! 
Drive  out  from  thee  the  world,  and  then  like  God  thou  It  be, 
A  heaven  within  thyself  in  calm  eternity. 

61. 
Spiritual  Sun  and  Moon. 
Be  Jesus  thou  my  sun,  and  let  me  be  thy  moon, 
Then  will  my  darkest  night  be  changed  to  brightest  noon. 

62. 
The  sweetest  meeting. 
Whene'er  in  Spirits  Deep  my  soul  with  God  is  meeting. 
It  seems  as  if  one  Love  his  second  love  was  greeting. 

63. 
The  Spiritual  Mount, 
I  am  a  mount  in  Grod,  and  must  myself  ascend. 
Shall  Grod  to  speak  to  me,  upon  my  top  descend. 

64. 
SoUtude, 
We  need  the  solitude ;  and  yet  in  every  place 
A  man  may  be  alone,  M  he^suo  commonplace. 

65. 
Life  in  Death. 
In  God  alone  is  Life,  without  God  is  but  Death. 
An  endless  Godless  life  were  but  a  life  in  Death. 

66. 
Like  the  doves^  hut  Uke  the  serpents  also. 
That  simpleness  I  prize,  that  seasoned  is  with  wit. 
A  witless  simpleness  I  value  not  a  whit 

67. 
Wisdom  a  child. 
Ye  ask  how  wisdom  can  thus  play  in  children's  guise? 
Why  wisdom  is  a  child,  so 's  every  man  that 's  wise. 


1849.]  Angelu$  SUerius.  485 

68. 
No  Beauty  vnihtmt  Love, 
All  Beauty  comes  of  Love,  God's  very  conntenaDce, 
If  lighted  not  with  Love,  could  never  yield  a  glance* 

m. 

The  Creature  a  Zero. 
Creature  preceding  God,  to  nothing  doth  amount. 
But  pkecj  it  after  God,  and  't  will  begin  to  count. 

70. 
Faith  without  Love. 

Faith  without  Love  aje  makea  th^  greatest  roar  and  din  i 
The  ca&k  sounds  loudest  tht^a  when  there  is  nought  witlun. 

7L 
TTie  second  blm  in  Htavtn. 
The  greatest  bliaa  in  Heaven,  h  next  to  God's  ble^t  eight, 
That  into  every  heart  we  straight  can  see  aright, 

72, 

No  law  for  Love. 
Tlie  Lover  needs  no  law  ;  he  'd  love  God  quite  as  well 
AVere  there  no  lleaven^a  rewordi  no  punishment  of  UelL 

73. 

The  woSeqf  and  the  rain- 
Let  bat  thy  heart,  O  Man  I  become  a  valley  low. 
And  God  wlH  rain  on  it  till  it  will  overflow* 

74, 
LHvine  Music- 
A  quiet  patient  heart  that  meekly  aervca  his  Lord, 
GodV  Bnger  joys  to  touch ;  it  Is  his  harpsichord 

75- 
Beware  of  tJie  smoke ! 
The  world  is  but  a  smoke.     Therefore^  if  thou  be  wise, 
Keep  offj  or,  sure,  it  will  blind  thy  spirit*s  eyes. 

Leant  front  the  idikicorm  ! 
0  Shame  I   A  ailk  worm  works  and  ?pina  till  it  can  fly^ 
And  ibouj  my  soul^  wilt  still  on  thine  old  earth -clod  lie. 


486  Angdm  SUema.  [Sept. 

.  77. 
The  drops  in  the  Sea. 
Drops  miDgllng  with  the  sea  will  all  become  the  Sea: 
So  souls  when  Uent  with  God>  will  theBiselres  God  then  be. 

78. 
Overboard! 
Throw  overboard,  O  soul,  the  world  with  all  its  goods, 
Lest  near  the  heavenly  port  then  perish  in  the  flood. 

79. 
God  18  a  ufondrous  thing. 
God  is  a  wondrous  Uiing:  he  wills  whate'er  he  is 
And  is  whate'er  he  wills  —  the  same  in  whirling  bliss. 

80; 
JHbw  we  can  see  God. 
God  dwelleth  in  a  light  far  oat  of  human  ken. 
Become  thyself  that  light,  and  ^ou  wilt  see  him  then. 

81. 
God's  Work  and  Rest. 
God  never  yet  has  worked*  nor  did  he  ever  rest, 
His  rest  is  aye  his  work,  his  work  is  aye  his  rest. 

82. 
**  The  Fear  of  the  Lordis  the  beginning  of  Tl%^<wk"— Ps.,  cxi.,  10. 
With  "  Fear  '*  we  must  begin,  then  next  to  Knowledge  tend ; 
But  only  Love  of  God  is  Wisdom's  perfect  end. 

88. 
Great  gifts  and  small  receivers. 
Our  great  €rod  always  would  the  greatest  gifts  impart^ 
If  but  his  greatest  gifts  found  not  so  smafl  a  heart. 

84. 
The  workings  of  Love. 
Love  works  the  same  as  Death ;  it  kills  what  kill  it  may, 
But  through  the  bursting  heart  the  Spirit  wings  its  way. 

85. 
True  Fhilanthropif. 
I  love,  but  love  not  Men.    Ye  ask,  «*  What  lovest  then  ?* 
It  is  Humanity  alone  I  love  in  men. 


1849.]  Becent  Defences  of  SUxoery.  48T 

86. 
EUHngtime. 
Mxi,  if  the  time  on  Earth  should  seem  too  long  to  thee. 
Turn  thee  to  Grod  and  live  time-free  eternally. 

87. 
27wr  Ortmn  af  the  Bksse^ 
Wliat  19  the  blessed  prke  ?    What  crowns  the  victory  ? 
It  is  Lhi^  \i]y  white  of  pure  Divinity^ 

88. 
Beginning  and  End, 
Where  can  I  my  last  end  and  first  beginning  find  ? 
There  whenj  Grod's  heart  and  mine  tbemseivea  together  bind. 

80. 
To  the  Rearhr. 
Let^  Eeader,  ihh  suflic^*     But  $«houldst  thou  wish  for  more» 
Then  read  in  thine  own  heart  a  page  of  mysde  lore* 


Aet*  VL  —  1.  Addresi  of  ike  Si>uthem  Dekgate9  to  their 
Const  Uiu  fits. 

2.  Address  to  the  People  qf  the  Union  on  the  mdj^ect  of 

3.  Letter  to  iZ.  Pindelly  -Bij*,  on  Emtrndpaiion:    H. 
Clay, 

4.  Lecture  on  fJm  North  and  tJte  South j  6y  Ellwoop 

FlSHERp 

We  are  almost  amazed  at  the  rnpid  sequence  of  orents 
which  have  followed  the  demandiS  for  freedom  for  the  enslaved* 
Never  in  the  history  of  this  nation  has  there  boon  such  a  deep 
feeling  of  aotagoriism  between  its  different  interesta.  The 
clamor,  whicli  a  few  men  comparatively  unknown^  except  in 
this  one  connection,  have  rabed,  has  attained  a  eignificance 
before  which  statesmen  and  politicians  have  been  compelled  to 
pause.  Let  it  be  then,  as  we  aro  told,  that  the  fu'^t  boginningB 
for  freedoni  could  scarcely  be  **  ferreted  out  by  a  vigilant 
police/'  it  la  now  useless  to  say  that  any  other  fjuestion  has 
any  political  importanco  lu  comparison  with  that  which  has 
divided  the  nation  so  arhitrarilyj  by  an  imaginary  "  Mason  and 


■^ 


488  Beeent  Defences  of  Slavery.  [Sept. 

Dixon's  line/'  into  North  and  South ;  not,  indeed,  that  all  the 
fnends  of  freedom  are  on  the  one  side,  or  all  the  coadjutors  of 
oppression  on  the  other ;  the  issue  woidd  be  a  far  easier  one  to 
meet,  if  it  were  so. 

Those  who  are  familiar  with  the  history  of  recent  events 
will  scarcely  need  to  be  reminded  of  the  formation  of  the  Free 
Soil  party,  its  subsequent  growth,  and  the  consequent  commit- 
talism  of  the  Northern  leaders  of  the  other  parties  to  its  avowed 
purpose ;  or  of  the  proceedings  of  the  last  session  of  Congress ; 
so  remarkable  for  accomplishing  next  to  nothing,  and  thus  doing 
a  vast  deal  in  behalf  of  human  freedom,  when  not  able,  for 
the  first  time  in  the  history  of  recent  sessions,  to  do  any  more 
for  Slavery.  These  are  indications  of  a  brave  work  going  on 
bravely,  though  slowly,  as  it  must  needs  be. 

The  main  question,  towards  which  these  things  all  very 
plidnly  look,  has  not  yet  come  to  be  tried ;  and  perhaps  the 
people  are  not  ready.  North  or  South,  to  say  whether  Slavery 
shall  any  longei  be  allowed  as  heretofore  to  rule  the  destinies 
of  the  Republic,  by  its  existence  on  the  statute  book,  and  on 
its  soil,  where  the  jurisdiction  is  exclusively  national.  The 
eamestniess  with  which  vulnerable  positions  are  defended,  shows 
that  there  will  yet  be  a  fearful  war  of  argumentation,  and  a 
sad  loss  of  temper,  if  not  of  life  and  property,  before  Slavery 
can  be  exterminated :  that  is,  if  these  gentlemen  have  their 
own  way ! 

The  purposes  of  the  documents  above  named  is  to  check,  if 
it  be  possible,  the  "  anti-slavery  agitation,"  which  already  puts 
on,  in  the  view  of  the  champions  of  oppression,  too  much  of 
the  manly  spirit  and  courage  so  well  befitting  its  humane  object. 
Mr.  Fisher  even  boldly  argues  in  favor  of  Slavery  firom  its 
manifest  results,  as  it  has  always  been  common  to  infer  the 
beneficence  of  the  Creator  from  the  beauty  and  goodness  of 
the  creation.  This  gentleman  was  once,  we  have  heard,  so 
zealous  in  opposition  to  slave-labor,  that  he  avoided  the  use  of 
any  of  its  products !  He  dwells  in  a  Free  State  now  ;  is  sur- 
rounded by  free  associations,  among  which,  we  presume,  he 
lives  voluntarily,  and  addressed  an  audience  of  young  men  in 
the  city  of  Cincinnati,  in  praise  of  Slavery  from  its  influence 
upon  society ! 

Such  a  document  is  entirely  new  in  the  controversy.  The 
array  of  "fictitious  facts,"  as  the  elder  Pitt  styled  the  charges 
against  himself,  vdll  astonish  every  one.  Indeed,  in  iMs  won- 
derful production  we  have  a  new  synonyme  for  Slavery:  — 


1849.]  Becent  Defenee$  of  Slavery.  489 

^^  the  unrivaUed  9yitem  of  Sovthem  civilization ; "  against 
which  are  exhibited  in  strikiog  colors  the  woes  and  wretched- 
ness, the  celibacy,  penury,  and  profligacy  of  New  England, 
where  *^  multitudes  [of  the  young  men]  die  by  dissipation  in 
her  cities ;  and  her  lonely  and  deserted  women  are  placed,  not 
in  convents,  but  in  factories."  <'  In  Boston,  one  person  out  of 
every  fourteen  males,  and  one  out  of  every  twenty-eight 
femdes,  is  arrested  annually  for  criminal  offences ; "  while,  of 
course,  ^'  there  must  be  many,  who  escape  detection  alto- 
gether."* 

We  have  neither  space  nor  inclination  to  follow  Mr.  Fisher 
through  the  pamphlet  in  which  he  demonstrates,  to  his  own 
satisfaction,  that  the  Free  States  are  in  a  sad  way  of  decline, 
as  to  wealth,  population,  morals,  and  reli^on,  when  compared 
with  the  Slave  States;  and  that  the  complaints  with  which 
Southern  papers  have  so  long  teemed,  of  the  degeneracy  and 
stagnation,  in  all  respects,  of  Southern  cities,  and  of  the 
Southern  population  generally,  are  wholly  untrue.  Mr.  Fisher 
deduces  conclusions  from  the  comparison  of  the  rural  districts 
of  one  section  with  the  dense  population  of  the  cities  of  anoth- 
er ;  and  tiius  constructs  an  argument,  which  New  Orleans  or 
St.  Louis  would  scarcely  have  afforded,  in  favor  of  the  moral 
and  social  position  of  men  in  the  re^on  of  Slavery !  It  may 
seem  strange  to  some  of  us,  that  the  laborers  of  die  South  so 
much  increase  the  aggregate  wealth,  because  they  are  slaves, 
while  the  laborers  of  the  North  do  the  reverse ;  ^at  Virginia 
without  schools  is  quite  as  well  off  as  Massachusetts  with  them  ; 
and  diat  the  liberal  tendencies  of  Northern  theology  contrast 
unfavorably  with  the  formalism  of  Episcopacy,  and  the  bigotry 
of  the  more  exclusive  sects  which  thrive  best  in  the  Soutiiem 
and  South-western  States !  Tet  these  are  some  of  the  results 
of  "  the  unrivalled  system  of  Southern  civilization,"  which  is, 
it  seems,  bearing  aloft  to  heights  yet  unattained,  the  character, 
the  enterprise,  the  thrift,  the  intelligence,  and  the  religion  of 
such  as  live  on  other  men's  unrequited  toil !    Reply  is  needless. 

Mr.  Clay's  letter  presents  a  different  view  of  the  subject. 
Himself  a  slave-holder,  and  ever  watchful  of  the  interests  of 
his  associates  in  slave-holding,  he  yet  dissents  entirely  and  rad- 
ically from  the  positions  of  Mr.  Fisher.    Indeed,  he  has  here 

*  [There  has  been  an  able  reply  to  this  work  of  Mr.  Fisher,  in  which  hia 
"  facts  "  and  arguments  are  carefully  examined :  —  Review  of  Ell  wood  Fisher's 
Lecture  on  the  North  and  the  South,  bj  Osgood  Massey.  Cincinnati  1849. 
STcpp.  98.— Ed.] 


490  Becent  Defences  of  Slavery.  [Sept 

given  US  an  important  admission,  in  mtimating  the  in^rect  evil 
influence,  socially  and  morally,  of  Ihe  institution  ap<ni  the  mas- 
ter. It  is  gratifying  also  to  have  the  confession  from  Uiat  side 
of  the  absolute  and  necessary  instability  of  tfie  system  of 
oppression. 

And  yet  it  is  saddening  to  find  a  statesman  so  eminent  delib- 
erately preparing  and  publishing  such  views  of  emancipation ; 
doing  this  as  with  his  latest  breath,  and  after  aU  the  consider- 
ations, which  any  baffled  hope  of  advancement  may  have  here- 
tofore suggested,  must  have  passed  away.  Let  it  be  conceded 
that  this  letter  gave  hope  and  cheer  to  the  fiiends  of  freedom 
in  Kentucky,  at  a  moment  when  they  were  likely  to  be  dis- 
mayed and  disheartened  by  the  turn  of  events  at  home, — 
even  although  this  diall  be  deemed  the  best  scheme  which 
could  find  any  favor  at  the  hands  of  men  who  will  most  require 
to  be  counseUed,  entreated,  and  convinced, — still,  with  all  its 
admissions  and  concessions,  it  is  too  thoroughly  selfish  in  its 
arguments  and  too  neglectful  of  the  natural  rights  of  the  slave 
to  find  any  great  fistvor  with  the  friends  of  humanity  anywhere. 

Men  of  such  distinguished  aUlity  will  always  be  censured 
when  they  restrain  the  movements  which  tiiey  ought  to  lead. 
Mr.  Clay  does  not  stand  in  the  foreground.  It  would  seem  to 
be  the  office  of  one  so  well  qualified,  in  the  crisis  through  which 
his  own  State  is  passmg,  urged  on  by  noble  spirits,  pigmies  iit 
influence  to  him,  to  carry  the  noblest  work  of  the  day  to  its 
successful  and  holiest  termination.  Incautiously  for  the  integ- 
rity of  his  purpose,  Mr.  C.  admits  that  Slavery  is  a  terrible 
woe  to  the  victims,  and  scarcely  any  thing  less  to  the  masters ; 
that  it  was  commenced  in  wanton  and  violent  outrage,  uid  is 
continued  only  by  fi)rce ;  and  yet  declares  that  he  rfiall  be 
opposed  to  any  scheme  of  emancipation,  to  any  restoration  of 
violated  rights,  to  any  relief  from  the  woe  to  the  one  side,  and 
from  the  direct  or  indirect  injury  to  the  other,  without  a  sys- 
tem of  colonization,  the  impracticability  of  which  vrithin  one 
hundred  years  seems  to  put  off  all  redress  and  deliverance 
almost  indefinitely ! 

We  are  mistaken  if  Mr.  Clay  has  not  signally  failed,  in  this 
as  in  other  schemes  of  his,  to  gain  any  thing  but  reproof.  The 
day  is  passing  for  such  temporizing  policy.  He  has  ever  been 
recognized  as  a  "  compromiser, "  "  a  man  of  expediency, " 
more  ready  to  patch  up  dilapidated  structures  than  to  erect 
new  ones,  and  not  a  little  disposed  to  sacrifice  great  interests 
for  immediate  advantages.    It  seems  a  pity,  in  such  a  contio- 


1849.]  Meeent  Defences  of  Slavery.  491 

yeny,  that  all  the  expediency  should  be  applied  on  ike  side  of 
the  oppresBor. 

The  emancipationists  in  Kentucky  and  elsewhere,  whether 
gradualists  or  inunediatisto,  will  not  fail  to  take  advantage  of 
the  admissions  which  come  in  good  season,  precisely  one  monUi 
after  tiie  delivery  of  Mr.  Ksber's  lecture.  Thev  will  rejoice 
that  Mr.  Clay  has  told  his  fellow-citizens  what  he  and  they 
might  long  ago  have  learned  from  other  sources,  that  Slavery 
is  never  a  blessing  to  either  the  enslaver  or  the  enslaved ;  and 
that  the  inferiority  of  the  colored  race,  if  there  be  such  inferi- 
ority, entitles  that  race  to  protection,  not  to  insult  and  injury. 
But  on  what  reasonable  ground  is  the  slave,  so  wron^ully 
(^pressed,  held  in  bondage  by  no  divine  right,  to  be  required 
to  purchase  his  freedom  at  such  an  exorbitant  price  over  and 
above  his  daily  living,  and  to  pay  for  his  subsequent  expatria- 
tion ?  The  victim  surely  is  tiie  last  man  under  the  sun  who 
ever  should  be  mulcted  for  his  sufferings.  Not  many  of  the 
hired  men  of  the  North  could  contrive  to  py  for  themselves 
at  such  rates,  or  at  rates  correspondingly  mcreased  as  white 
labor  receives  so  much  higher  compensation,  and  for  all  the 
infirm  and  disabled,  young  and  old,  within  tiie  circle  of  a  given 
number  of  miles,  and  accumulate  in  the  mean  time  sums  suffi- 
cient for  the  transportation  of  the  whole  number  across  the 
Atlantic !  Well  does  our  author  affirm,  that  the  first  sacrifice 
wi  the  part  of  any  slave-holder  would  be  at  a  cUetance  of  at 
leati  tMrty-five  yea/rs  !  especially  as  the  right  to  sell  out  of  the 
State  into  regions  even  less  humane  is  to  be  held  inviolable ! 

But  one  word  more  upcm  this  favorite  scheme  of  coloniza- 
tioni  —  OF  the  motion  for  indefinite  postponement  of  the  whole 
8Qt)ject  of  emancipation :  —  It  might  be  difficult  to  prove  that 
the  cobred  race  of  America  was  not  as  much  a  native  race  as 
any  other  class  of  persons  who  happen  now  to  dwell  here, 
excepting  the  Aborigines.  It  is  generally  aargued,  such  is  Mr. 
O.'s  position,  that  the  descendants  of  AfricaiHi  should  be  re- 
moved, because  they  and  the  European  race  cannot  live 
together.  This  alternative  is  a  gross  assumption.  Freedom 
will  not  make  a  diflbrence  half  so  much  to  be  dreaded  as  the 

E resent  state  of  things.  Would  there  be  more  estrangement 
etween  employers  and  employed  than  between  masters  and 
serfs  ?  But  granting  the  fact  for  argument's  sake,  and  consent- 
ing, for  a  moment,  to  bow  before  the  bugbear  of  amalgamation 
as  an  unavoidable  consequence  of  freedom,  even  more  so  than 
of  Slavery  with  its  varied  hues,  will  any  one  show  ua  the  white 


492  Beeent  Defences  of  Slavery.  [Sept. 

man's  right  to  remidn  upon  this  side  of  the  ocean,  and  to  com- 
pel his  sable  neighbour  to  remove  to  the  other  ?  Let  us  be 
just  if  we  cannot  be  generous.  We  are  as  far  from  our  natural 
home  as  is  the  African ;  and  it  would  cost  much  less,  in  a 
pecuniary  point  of  view,  provided  the  two  races  cannot  dwell 
harmoniously  side  by  side,  to  transport  five  hundred  thousuid 
whites  to  a  more  congenial  spot,  than  to  convey  across  the  At- 
lantic the  present  number  of  three  millions  of  reputed  blacks. 
At  least,  expatriation  is  a  better  word  than  colonization,  when 
it  is  proposed  to  remove  compulsorily.  Mr.  Clay's  plan  strikes 
us  as  being  entirely  impracticable,  and  abhorrent  to  idl  ideas 
of  justice.  Confessing  the  difficulty  of  the  subject,  we  do  not 
so  much  complain  that  he  has  not  removed  it  all,  as  that  he 
has  chosen  to  view  it  only  in  this  one-sided,  unjust,  we  had 
almost  said,  perfectly  absurd  manner.* 

But  every  intelligent  friend  of  mankind  will  feel  that  these 
are  side  issues  after  all.  Mr.  Fisher's  comparison  of  the  thrift 
and  prosperity  of  different  sections  when  a  great  question  of 
humanity  is  to  be  solved,  seems  to  be  very  mean  and  contempt- 
ible. If  all  that  Mr.  F.  says  m  his  Lecture  were  as  true  as  it  is 
generally  false,  if  his  arguments  were  of  decent  validity,  and  his 
figures  of  tolerable  accuracy,  still  nothmg  of  this  kind  can  touch 
the  question  of  Freedom  or  Slavery.  If  the  South  be  richer 
than  the  North,  the  argument  from  the  fact  is  best  answered 
by  a  reference  to  the  ideal  treasure  which  one  Captain  Kyd  is 
currently  reported  to  have  buried  somewhere  in  the  sand, — 
the  results  of  predatorv  and  piratic  enterprises ;  for  wealth 
does  not  always  prove  tLe  honesty,  integrity,  or  blessedness  of 
the  ways  in  which  it  was  amassed ;  it  is  therefore  no  adequate 
sponsor  for  the  character  of  the  possessor.  We  wonder  that 
the  same  author  should  have  trusted  himself  on  tiie  moral  and 
religious  grounds  of  preference  for  Slavery !  K  the  results  of 
licentiousness  can  anywhere  else  in  the  civilized  world  be  as 
plainly  observed  as  at  the  South,  the  fetct  has  never  yet  been 
brought  to  light. 

Then  as  to  the  scheme  of  colonization,  one  word  more.  We 
do  not  marvel  that  it  should  seem  hard  to  those  who  have  nur- 
tured the  bantiing  to  a  period  when  it  was  to  assume  the  rai- 
ment and  do  the  offices  of  manhood,  to  find  it  something  less 

*  It  used  to  be  argaed  that  Slayery  was  to  be  tolerated  because  the  fertOe 
fields  of  the  South  and  South-west  could  only  be  tilled  by  the  African  race. 
Is  it  proposed,  in  colonizing  this  whole  people,  to  relinquish  this  argument  for 
•laye-labor,  or  to  leave  the  pUutations  aacaltiyated  % 


1849.]  jRecent  Defences  of  Slavery.  498 

tiian  a  stripling,  and  not  one  half  qualified  to  meet  the  emer- 
gencies of  life !  But  vfhy  is  it  needful  to  make  this  the  condi- 
tion of  emancipation  forty  years  hence?  Why  tie  a  man's 
hands  behind  him  when  so  much  work  is  to  be  done,  and  then 
proclaim  that  we  will  not  hear  of  any  plan  of  labor  which  is 
not  based  upon  this  condition  of  inability  for  performance? 
The  negroes  have  rights.  The  natural  and  only  just  way  looks 
first  to  the  security  of  those  rights  against  invasion.  When 
the  slaves  are  acknowledged  as  freemen,  then  if  they  choose 
to  migrate,  and  if  migration  be  so  much  a  blessing  to  them, 
(and  they  will  be  pretty  sure  to  find  that  out  more  speedily 
than  Mr.  Clay  can  teach  it  to  them,)  then  every  man  of  com- 
mon humanity  will  be  ready  to  assist  them.  But  there  is  a 
preliminary  matter  to  be  considered,  —  and  we  have  good  evi- 
dence in  these  documents  that  its  consideration  is  going  on 
faithfully,  —  to  spread  a  truer  public  sentiment,  which  will 
acknowledge  the  aUxve^s  right  to  himself.  The  terms  of 
emancipation  may  be  agreed  upon  subsequently. 

Meanwhile,  it  is  such  papers  as  this  of  Mr.  Clay  which 
really  retard  the  ^^  good  time,"  because  they  seem  to  imply 
this  recognition  of  a  natural  right,  which  Mr.  Clay  never  once 
honestly  and  fairly  admits,  and  to  indicate  that  slave-holders 
already  possessing  a  right  will  are  now  cautiously  inquiring  for 
the  right  way.  Let  no  man  be  imposed  upon  by  such  appear- 
ances r  The  perpetualists,  —  and  the  slave-holders  generally 
are  such,  and  for  all  practical  purposes  Mr.  Clay  is  one  of 
them,  —  have  no  such  idea  of  emancipation.  They  have  ac- 
quired Texas  and  California  and  New  Mexico,  at  great  pains 
and  hazard,  for  the  same  purpose  that  dictated  some  earlier 
acquisitions.  The  border  States,  where  the  property  is  daily 
becoming  more  insecure,  and  where  the  contrast  is  continually 
presented  between  Slave  States  and  Free  States,  —  Mr.  Ush- 
er's "facts"  to  the  contrary,  notwithstanding,  —  look  occa- 
monally  at  some  process  of  gradual  emancipation ;  but  slave- 
holders who  propose  to  retain  their  slaves  until  the  tardy 
operation  of  a  law  which  is  purposely  postponed  in  its  action  for 
more  than  a  generation  of  masters,  and  for  two  generations  of 
slaves,  are  not  the  men  to  relinquish  their  clums  for  service  on 
the  ground  of  natural  rights,  so  long  as  slave-labor  is  profitable, 
and  continues  to  be  the  source  of  political  power,  unless  a  mar- 
vellous change  should  be  wrought  in  their  feelings.  The  plans 
founded  upon  an  expected  unprofitableness  of  servitude,  or  on 
a  desire  to  escape  the  ignominy  which  is  rapidly  fastening  upon 


494  Beceni  I>rfene€S  qf  Siaoery.  [Sq^ 

Blave-holders,  must  not  bo  oonfomidod  vnStL  the  gradnaliam  of 
Wilberforce  and  Clarkson.  Their  si»rit  is  inherently  different. 
Hence  their  champions  seldom  fail  to  deprecate  all  agitation  of 
the  snbject  as  useless,  dangeroos,  and  fanatical,  especially  as 
touching  its  moral  bearing.  Hence  the  arraignment  of  tbe 
friends  of  freedom  for  intermeddling,  as  if  freedom  were  a 
matter  to  be  placed  among  the  economics  of  a  community, 
or  a  topic  to  be  linuted,  restrained,  or  enlarged,  even  in  its 
discussion,  by  human  laws  and  local  interests. 

The  two  "  Addreases,**  the  titles  of  which  have  been  given, 
in  purpose  may  be  accounted  as  one :  that  ^^  to  the  People  of 
the  Union,"  prepared  by  Mr.  Berrien,  of  (Jewgia,  is  only  a 
mild  and  magnanimous  appeal ;  while  that  ^^  to  the  Constitaents 
of  the  Southern  Delegates  "  combines  the  qualities  of  iq)oIogy, 
recrimination,  and  defiance.  Mr.  Berrien  addresses  tiie  peo- 
ple of  the  Union  to  conciliate  them  to  his  purpose  ;  he  entreats 
and  remonstrates.  Mr.  Calhoun  speaks  to  the  South,  carefully 
remembering  all  the  time  that  he  is  in  the  hearing  of  the 
North.  To  be  sure,  it  is  substantially  the  same  lesson,  recited 
by  different  persons,  each  in  his  own  tone  and  words.  We 
shall  devote  the  remainder  of  this  article  to  some  notice  of  tbe 
points  raised  in  botii,  as  they  are  presented  by  Mr.  Calhoun. 

We  cannot  help  remarking  at  the  outset  that  this  ^^ Address" 
is  essentially  weaker  in  its  tone  than  any  document  which  the 
same  author  has  recentiy  prepared.  On  the  whole,  it  is  ratiier 
apologetic  than  menacmg,  unwontedly  moderate  in  its  counsels^ 
if  it  really  counsel  any  thing,  and  very  littie  likely  to  attract 
any  especial  attention. 

Like  every  thing  from  that  side  of  the  ^^  line,"  it  assumes 
the  old  ground  upon  which  the  battie  has  been  so  skilfully 
waged  by  the  South  in  all  the  contests  of  Freedom  with  Sla- 
very, and  on  which  there  is  a  decided  advantage  to  tibe  latter. 
It  iffisumes  that  the  Slave-holding  States  have  always  been  the 
sufferers  by  the  compact  into  which  they  se^n  to  have  been 
inveigled  by  Northern  diplomacy,  and  with  the  promise  of 
certain  rights  and  immunities  which  have  never  yet  been 
confirmed.  Consequently,  the  Nortiiem  States  Imve  been 
always,  or  for  the  most  part,  in  the  wrong ;  and  have  unduly 
prospered  by  unfaithfulness  to  their  less  favored  brethren ! 

We  take  exception  at  once  to  the  issue  presented,  and  on 
which  the  chief  stress  of  the  document  is  laid.  Tins  great 
question,  which  is  so  deeply  agitating  so  much  of  the  worid  just 
now,  the  question  of  Freedom,  of  Personal  Liberty,  is  not  a 


1849.]  JBeeent  JD^enees  of  Slavery.  4% 

oontroTersy  ^^  between  the  different  sections  of  the  Union/'  or 
concerning  ^^  the  relation  between  the  two  races,  the  European 
and  African,  which  inhabit  the  Southern  section."  The  appeal 
to  the  constituents  of  the  signers  is  of  course  more  cogent 
from  this  point  than  from  any  other.  But  the  statement  does 
not  do  justice  to  the  millions  whose  hearts  are  beating  ear- 
nesUy  fi)r  freedom,  and  who  piiy  alike  the  toiling  poor  of 
England,  the  serfs  of  Russia,  and  the  slaves  of  America.  It 
is  not  a  sectional  question,  which  would  only  include  general 
ideas  of  prosperity  and  ccmvenience,  nor  a  question  of  races. 

The  anti^slavery  agitation  knows  no  clime  or  color.  It  is 
not  arrayed  against  Southern  measures  and  institutions,  as 
such,  but  agsdnst  the  oppression  which  is  practised  under  their 
influence  and  authority.  If  the  slavery  of  South  Carolina  and 
Georgia  and  Alabama  is  visited  witii  censure  more  severely 
tiian  any  other  clime  or  region,  it  is  because  the  face  of  the 
earth  is  not  known  anywhere  to  present  so  inhuman,  so  bar- 
barous, so  wicked  a  system  as  there  obtains  and  is  defended. 
There  is  no  contest  concerning  the  rdation  sub^ting  between 
the  two  races,  only  as  that  relation  interferes  mSi  justice, 
with  the  rights  of  human  nature,  and  with  the  hopes  of  man- 
kind. It  is  absurd  to  speak  of  the  ^^  two  raeea^^  as  if  they  were 
even  as  distinct  in  the  South  as  the  Englishman  is  from  the 
Frenchman.  Slavery  knows  no  cdor  in  the  United  States ! 
It  depends  upon  the  conditi<Mi  of  the  mother,  although  she  be 
as  white  as  the  Anglo-Saxon,  and  her  o&pring  exhibit  no 
traces  but  of  white  descent ! 

Let  us  meet  this  complaint  at  the  threshold.  Perchance  in 
no  one  respect  do  the  slave-holders  require  to  be  enlightened 
more  than  in  this.  They  cannot  be  supposed  to  understand 
the  spirit  which  they  themselves  may  be  now  ready  to  manifest 
for  the  struggling  republicans  of  Europe,  while  tiiey  will  not 
comprehend  the  interest  which  is  felt  by  so  many  earnest  men 
in  the  North  for  the  oppressed  people  of  the  South.  It  is  not, 
as  the  '^  Address  "  i^ms,  a  '^  question  of  feeling  "  alone,  or 
chiefly ;  but  a  question  which  is  based  upon  the  demands  of  a 
common  nature ;  a  question  of  right,  of  justice,  of  liberty,  for 
which  men  have  b(»rne  and  sacriflced  more  than  for  all  other 
thmgs  combined.  It  appeals  to  all  that  is  noblest  imd  holiest 
in  human  nature.  It  will  answer  no  good  purpose  to  attempt 
to  stigmatize  this  anti^lavery  feeling  as  ''a  deep-seated  dis- 
ease." If  it  be  a  disease,  it  partakes  in  the  nmeteenth  cen- 
tury of  the  nature  of  an  eiadeinic^  which  has  raged  with  great 


496  Iteeent  Drfmces  qf  Slavery.  [Sept 

virulence  at  divers  times  in  the  experience  of  different  natioi^, 
and  seems  to  have  been  quite  contagious  in  some  parts  (^ 
Europe  since  February,  1848.  In  Europe,  one  of  the  symp- 
toms, when  the  fever  runs  highest,  is  revolution;  here,  for- 
tunately for  our  Southern  friends,  it  only  tends  to  serious 
investigation  and  constant  discussion  ! 

In  the  closing  paragraph  of  the  ^'  Address,"  this  metaphor  is 
again  employed,  and  the  hope  is  expressed  that  ''  unanimity 

S among  the  slave-holders]  will  of  itself  apply  a  remedy  to  this 
angerous  and  deep-seated  disease ;  but  if  such  should  not  be 
the  case,  the  time  will  then  have  come  to  decide  what  course 
to  adopt."  We  venture  the  prediction  that  the  most  complete 
unanimity  will  have  in  itself  no  remedial  power,  if  such  una- 
nimity were  among  the  possible  things  of  to-day.  We  more- 
over suggest  that  the  only  rational  way  of  escaping  the  pains 
and  symptoms  of  the  disease  will  not  be  found  in  secession,  to 
which  the  "  Address  "  indirectly  looks,  but  in  emancipation. 
The  "  feeling"  for  freedom  will  never  again  become  inoperative 
or  less  jealous  in  this  nation,  unless  in  the  prevalence  of  uni- 
versal liberty,  when  men  may  become  seemingly  regardless  of 
rights  and  immunities  which  are  never  violated. 

We  have  always  marvelled  at  the  surprise  and  indignation 
of  the  advocates  of  Slavery  at  the  opposition  which  they  en- 
counter at  the  North.  They  are  not  probably  familiar  with 
the  opinions  which  were  so  vehemently  urged  in  the  Convention 
of  1787,  when  the  bitterness  exhibited  by  the  few  who  desired 
to  secure  the  assistance  of  the  new  government  in  advancing 
their  plans  of  injustice,  was  repelled  by  an  earnest  refusal  of 
their  claims.  Nor  was  the  North  alone  or  most  earnest  in 
denouncing  Slavery.  Words  were  then  spoken  against  the 
system  such  as  have  not  often  been  uttered  by  any  men.  No 
one  then  praised  Slavery,  or  did  more  than  plead  for  a  ten>- 
porary  toleration  or  security. 

The  comparison  of  the  received  opinions  of  that  day  with 
the  discarded  ones  of  to-day,  is  almost  humiliating.  Such  men 
as  Luther  Martin  never  ransacked  the  language  in  quest  of 
mild  words  in  which  to  speak  their  abhorrence  of  Slavery. 
Was  it  not  in  a  great  measure  owing  to  the  conviction  which 
then  extensively  prevailed,  that  Slavery  would  soon  be  extinct, 
— "  not  struck  with  an  apoplexy,  but  affected  with  consump- 
tion,"—  the  conviction  that  a  system  so  abhorrent,  as  Mr. 
Martin  said,  ^'  to  the  genius  of  republicanism  "  could  not  long 
survive  the  formation  of  a  regular  government, — that  the 


1849.]  Meeent  Defeiu^  of  Slavery.  497 

CanBtitutioD,  with  its  compromising  clauses,  was  ratified  ?  and 
that  an  indifference  upon  the  sutject  arose,  from  which  the 
Free  States  were  onlj  aroused  by  the  admission  of  so  many 
new  Slave  States  into  the  Union  f 

The  present  aspect  of  the  subject,  be  it  remembered,  is  not 
a  new  one,  but  an  old  one  revived.  The  tendency  of  public 
opinion. seems  to  have  been  downwards  after  the  adoption  of 
the  Constitution ;  or,  indeed,  ever  after  the  success  of  the 
American  Revolution.  "  At  this  time,"  (1787,)  says  Luther 
Martin,  ^'  we  do  not  generally  hold  this  commerce,  [riave-deat 
ing,]  in  so  great  abhorrence  as  we  have  done.  When  our 
liberties  were  at  stake,  we  warmly  felt  for  the  common  rights 
of  man.  The  danger  being  thought  to  be  past  which  threat- 
ened ourselves,  we  are  daily  growing  more  msensible  to  those 
rights."  In  several  of  the  Slave  States,  and  in  all  the  Free 
States,  tiiere  were  at  that  time  societies  in  active  existence  to 
promote  the  abolition  of  Slavery ;  and  these  societies  held 
public  meetings  in  Virginia  and  Maryland,  and  petitioned 
Congress  to  move  in  the  matter ;  the  petitions  being  received 
and  treated  in  a  respectful  manner.  To  this  part  of  the  sub- 
ject we  may  recur  agidn.  We  content  ourselves  now  with 
saying,  that  there  was  a  time,  the  purest  and  truest  in  our 
nation's  history,  when  it  was  a  virtue  rather  than  a  crime  to 
express  invincible  hatred  to  injustice  and  oppression. 

Nearly  one  third  of  the  ^^  Address"  is  devoted  to  the  conmd- 
oration  of  the  escape  of  fugitives,  and  the  difficulties  attending 
recapture.  This  cause  of  complaint,  if  any  cause  at  all,  has 
lately  been  very  much  on  the  increase,  as  all  who  are  fisuniliar 
with  the  matter  very  well  know.  The  facilities  for  communi- 
cation seem  to  ^ave  greatly  augmented  the  difficulties  of 
detention.  Railroads  which  have  sunk,  in  mercantile  phrase, 
a  great  amount  of  money  thus  mvested  at  the  South,  have 
also,  in  some  few  instances,  rendered  the  living  "  property  " 
singularly  insecure.  The  wide-spread  intelligence  of  the  com- 
munity-north strangely  and  stealthily  finds  its  way  mto  the 
very  cabins  of  the  slaves  of  remote  sections.  Indeed,  the 
North  Star  has  also  been  futhless  to  the  master  when  so 
faithfully  serving  the  slave  ;  for  the  information,  we  know  not 
how,  certainly  by  means  of  no  special  emissaries  of  Anti-Slavery 
societies,  seems  to  have  been  widely  extended  among  the  igno- 
rant '^  chattels  personal,"  that  the  bright,  twinkling  light,  to 
which  a  kind  Providence,  in  no  spite,  we  are  confident,  to  Mr. 

NO.  ym.  38 


498  Becmt  I>efence$  of  Slamy.  [Sept. 

CaDionn  and  his  associates,  has  asmgned  perpetual  ^^  pointetB^^ 
in  the  sky  itself,  is  a  star, 

**  Whose  radiance  no  ann  of  fle^  can  hide, 
Whose  hope  is  for  the  lowliest." 

To  prevent  the  escape  of  slaves  seems  to  he  impossiUe. 
Southern  jealousy  and  vigilance  have  been  again  and  again 
avoided  ;  and  schemes  rivalling  the  fairy  stories  of  childhood 
have  been  succesrfodly  executed.  An  express  agent  in  Rieh^ 
mond,  for  instance,  aJl  unsuspicious,  takes  charge  of  a  box, 
not  always  observing  the  direction,  ^^  tvifh  ectrCj  Ms  side  upj^ 
in  which  a  living  negro  is  borne  on  white  men's  shoulders  to 
his  place  of  destination  in  a  Northern  city !  During  the  last 
winter,  a  man  and  his  wife  arrived  in  New  England,  having 
come  openly  on  iheir  way  from  Macon,  €hk.,  in  cars  and  steam- 
boats, tarrying  only  at  ^e  best  hotels  on  the  route,  under  the 
concealment  of  an  almost  transparent  deception.  Y^th  the 
aid  of  steam  for  the  cunmng  and  daring,  and  the  sable  robes 
of  darkness  and  the  bright  Star  of  the  North,  to  befriend  the 
more  cautious  and  timid,  we  see  not  how  such  escapes  can  be 
readily  prevented.  Indeed,  the  escape  is  ever  prim&  facie 
evidence  that  it  cannot  be  prevented  by  the  argus-watchfuhiess 
of  those  who  have  been  trained  to  detect  a  runaway  at  first 
view. 

Acknowledging  the  facts,  and  sympathising  as  humanifr 
requires  with  Uie  suflferers  by  these  occurrences,  we  are  stiU 
at  loss  to  perceive  in  what  necessary  way  any  citizen  of  the 
North  becomes  implicated  in  such  "  outrages "  upon  tiie  do- 
mestic institutions  of  the  South.  It  would  not  seem  to  be  very 
necessary  that  any  especial  agencies  should  be  established,  or 
any  emissaries  despatched,  to  plead  with  the  bondman  in  behalf 
of  his  own  freedom ;  or  to  stimulate  him  to  improve  any  oppor* 
tumty  that  might  offer  of  escaping  the  woes  and  misery  of 
life-long  bondage.  And  yet  this  is  one  of  the  charges  pre- 
ferred against  us :  ^*  Secret  combinations  are  believed  to  exisi 
in  many  of  the  Northern  States,  whose  object  is  to  entice, 
decoy,  entrap,  inveigle,  and  seduce  slaves  to  escape  fit>m  their 
owners,  and  to  pass  them  secretly  and  raradly,  by  means 
organized  for  the  purpose,  into  Canada.'^  That  individuals 
may  have  acted  for  themselves  m  helping  the  wanderers,  and 
in  assisting  them  to  the  recovery  of  some  of  their  '^  inalienable 
rights,  —  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  hapfnness,"  we  have 
no  doubt ;  but  of  me  existence  of  such  secret  combinations 


1849.]  BecerU  Defences  of  Slavery.  499 

fliere  is  not  a  shadow  of  proof.  Such  combinations  are  not 
only  unknown  to  tiie  "  States  within  whose  limits  they  exist,'* 
but  also  to  the  Abolitionists  themselyes,  who  are  not  so  choicely 
cherished  in  the  North,  that  they  should  find  legislatures  ready 
ijo  assist  tiiem  in  any  such  action.  The  whole  tale  is  a  fabn- 
cation,  we  suppose,  of  some  ingenious  rogue,  who  has  secured 
a  favor  at  the  hands  of  the  gallant  gentlemen  who  have  been 
imposed  upon,  and  who  have  endorsed  it  with  their  names.* 

But  the  escape  is  only  secondary  to  the  protection  afforded, 
which  is  affirmed  to  be  in  direct  violation  of  the  terms  of 
confederation.  We  do  not  question  that  the  article  relating 
to  "  persons  held  to  service  or  labor,"  was  really  intended  to 
cover  the  case  of  fugitives  from  Slavery,  although  the  terms 
are  not  so  precisely  to  the  point  as  would  seem  to  have  been 
required.  But  men  we  know  that  this  phraseology  was 
adopted  to  save  the  feelings  of  such  as  abhorred  the  very  idea 
of  tderatmg  or  continuing  Slavery.  Viewed  as  a  delioerate 
compromise,  it  would  seem  to  be  obvious  that  while  the  com- 
pact is  in  force,  nothmg  should  be  directly  done  by  those  con- 
senting to  it,  to  violate  any  of  its  provisions.  Still  let  not  the 
slave-holder  wonder  at  any  exhibition  of  jealousy  on  the  part 
of  the  North,  when  he  reads  the  story  of  its  adoption,  the 
painful  struggle  that  it  cost,  and  the  artful  evasion  of  difficul- 
ties before  it  was  passed.  Mr.  Madison  says  that  an  attempt 
was  made  by  Mr.  feutler  of  South  Carolina,  "  to  require  fur- 
tive slaves  and  servants  to  be  delivered  up  like  criminals,"  or 
at  public  expense  ;  but  the  motion  was  withdrawn.  (Madison 
Papers,  p.  1447.)  Subsequently,  the  world  "  legally  "  was 
struck  from  this  provision,  because  it  seemed  to  "  favor  the 
idea  that  Slavery  could  be  legal  in  a  moral  view."  (Madison 
Papers,  p.  1589.) 

But  the  contract,  although  opposed  vehemently,  was  finally 
concluded  in  the  spirit  of  compromise.  The  phraseology,  and 
the  terms  of  surrender,  were  all  deliberately  adjusted,  and 
the  "modus  operandi"  of  the  provision  left  to  subsequent  leg- 
islation. The  same  jealousy  which  so  carefully  examined  tiie 
law  has  unaccountabiy  followed  its  operation !  It  is  now  com- 
plained that  the  citizens  of  the  North  have  first  enticed  the 
slaves  from  their  claimants,  and  then  thrown  impediments  in 
the  way  of  their  reclamation ;  so  that  "  the  attempt  to  recover 

*  The  two  fiigitiTes  already  mentioned  denied  d1  knowledge  of  the  Anti- 
Slarery  Sodetiet  of  the  North,  and  of  the  existence  of  roch  frieiSto  as  thigr  hUTfl 
found.    God  inspired  them  with  a  lore  and  hope  for  fipeedom ! 


600  BeeefU  Drfences  of  Slavery.  [Sept. 

a  slave,  in  most  of  the  Northern  States,  cannot  now  be  made 
without  the  hazard  of  insult,  heavj  pecuniary  loss,  imprison- 
ment, and  even  of  life  itself."  That  the  recovery  of  a  reputed 
runaway  is  attended  with  great  expense,  seems  to  be  an  evil 
against  which  no  provisions  can  be  made.  The  expenses  are 
unavoidable,  and  on  whom  should  they  fall,  if  not  on  the  mas- 
ter ?  This  question  was  settled  in  the  Convention,  as  we  have 
already  seen.  The  statement  that  a  slave-clsumant  would  be 
imprisoned  for  presenting  his  claim  is  as  absurd  as  unfounded ; 
or  that  he  would  be  endangered,  excepting  under  such  provo- 
cation as  in  the  case  referred  to  in  the  ^^  Address,"  in  which 
the  sufferer  seems  to  have  been  the  offending  party  at  first, 
requires  something  more  than  the  declaration  of  these  gentle- 
men for  its  confirmation.  The  violence  of  men  is  under  more 
restridnt  at  the  North  than  at  the  South ;  and  here  the  pro- 
tection of  law  would  as  soon  be  thrown  around  a  peaceable 
citizen  of  a  neighbouring  State,  as  afforded  to  the  panting 
fugitive,  haltmg  for  a  night's  lodging  on  his  way  to  a  freer 
land. 

Moreover  the  censure  —  in  reality  an  honor — bestowed 
upon  the  le^slators  and  judges,  is  entirely  undeserved.  We 
do  not  know  that  any  legislature  has  done  more  than  refuse 
the  use  of  the  State  and  County  jails,  and  the  assistance  of  its 
own  pdd  functionaries  to  the  slave-hunter.  Thus  much  it  was 
surely  competent  to  do  on  the  strictest  constructioD  of  the 
clause  touching  the  question.  The  first  refusal  of  a  Northern 
judge  to  permit  a  slave,  when  proved  to  be  such,  to  be  removed 
from  the  State  in  which  he  was  captured,  to  his  owner's  abode, 
is  yet  to  be  put  upon  record.  That  the  jealousy  of  human 
freedom  has  induced  an  inquiry  of  most  cogent  character  to 
be  instituted  before  a  decision  adverse  to  the  weaker  party  is 
rendered, — that  the  accused,  so  to  speak,  the  victim,  b  allowed 
the  benefit  of  any  doubt  which  may  be  raised,  ought  not  in  a 
republic  to  be  matter  of  complaint.  These  points,  we  are 
sure,  will  never  be  surrendered. 

It  is  somewhat  uncivil  to  hang  Haman  on  a  gallows  not  in- 
tended for  just  such  use.  Tet  we  have  the  authority  of  the  very 
Prigg  case,  referred  to  so  confidently  by  these  gentlemen,  and 
the  substratum  of  Southern  demands  for  a  return  of  fugitives, 
on  both  these  points.  In  regard  to  the  passage  of  State  laws 
to  protect  the  negro  population  of  the  North,  and  to  prevent 
State  ma^trates  from  acting  as  slave-catchers,  it  is  expressly 
said  m  ^e  decbion,  Friffg  vs.  PeniMylvania^  "As  to  the 


1849.  ]  Beeent  Defences  of  Slwery.  601 

authority  so  conferred  od  Stato  mngistrates,  while  a  difference 
of  opinion  exists  and  may  exist  on  this  point  in  different  States, 
whether  State  magistrates  are  hound  to  act  onder  it,  none  is 
entertained  by  the  Court,  that  State  magistrates  may,  if  they 
choose,  exercise  the  authority,  milem  prohibited  hi/  Stnte  leg- 
idaiion.^*  On  the  other  point,  we  have  the  opinion  of  the 
Coart  in  the  same  case,  that  a  master  may  remove  his  slave 
without  investigation,  if  he  can  do  it  **  without  any  brench  of 
the  peace,  or  illegal  violence."  But  in  other  oases,  or  where 
there  is  a  contest  of  claims,  the  point  miiat  he  adjudicated  by 
a  proper  officer  ;  and  that  ia  all  the  security  which  the  judi- 
ciary has  ever  extended  to  the  fugitive. 

That  difficulties  of  another  kind  do  exist  we  admit,  and  liave 
a  word  to  say  of  them.  The  protection  of  the  slave  may  be 
accomplished  judicially,  or  by  popular  will ;  when  done  judi- 
cially, it  is  because,  in  the  contest  of  claims,  the  slave-claimant 
did  not  make  out  his  case.  But  the  popular  disposition  mani- 
fests itself  in  a  different  way.  The  ** Address"  states  that 
the  same  impediments  to  recovering  a  fudtive  did  not  exist  in 
the  early  operation  of  the  government.  We  presume  that  the 
signers  literally  mean  the  government  under  the  Constitution  ; 
as  it  is  well  known  that  no  such  claim  was  ever  allowed  under 
the  Confederation*  Formerly,  then,  in  other  words,  the  States 
lent  the  aid  of  their  magistrates,  and  no  questions  were  raised 
as  to  the  justice  of  the  master's  claim  to  "  service  or  labor.'* 
Now,  without  imputing  any  improper  motive,  or  any  motive 
which  a  Southern  man  could  impugn,  we  can  see  two  sufficient 
reasons  for  an  entire  change  in  public  sentiment  In  the  first 
place,  Slavery  was  not  then  an  extinct  institution  in  the  North- 
ern States-  After  the  Revolution,  it  is  stated  that  Massachu- 
setts contained  3,S0O  slaves ;  New  York,  15,000 ;  while  Georgia 
then  only  held  16,000,  Of  course,  then,  there  was  a  greater 
presumption  against  a  fugitive's  freedom^  than  would  be  af- 
forded after  all  the  slaves  in  any  region  were  emancipated j  and 
the  familiarity  with  the  condition  of  bondmen  was  lost  As 
the  number  of  free  colored  persons  has  increased,  so  is  the 
presumption  strengthened,  that  any  individual  forcibly  taken 
before  a  tribunal  for  adjudicating  so  delicate  a  matter  as  his 
legal  right  to  himaelf,  is  truly,  de  jure  as  well  as  de  facto,  a 
freeman. 

Again,  within  the  last  fifty  years,  soch  continuous  efforts 
have  been  made  to  extend  and  strengthen  the  inatitution  of 
Slavery,  that  the  consequence  has  finally  been  that  a  corro^ 


502  Iiec€9d  Defm!e$  of  SUmry.  [Sept. 

sponding  mteresi  in,  and  appreoiation  of,  the  iDBtitationB  of 
Freedpm,  as  these  are  expressed  in  the  principles  of  a  repub- 
lican government,  has  arisen.  Without  the  cooperatbn  of 
the  perpetoalistSi  or  rather  with  their  interest  like  Jefferson's 
against  Qi^pression,  the  abolitionist  would  have  been  deprived 
of  half  lus  influence.  A  corresponding  change  in  public  opinion 
is  one  of  the  results.  Greater  sympathy  with  die  oppressed 
contmually  manifests  itself  by  increased  vi^lance  in  his  behalf, 
b^  earnest  words,  and,  whenever  the  opportunity  offers,  bv 
kmdly  deeds  for  his  sake.  Perscmal  liberty  is  not  now  too  weU 
secured,  or  too  carefully  guarded.  We  only  wish,  therefore, 
that  we  could  repel  the  reproach  whidi  the  '^  Address  '^  indi- 
ractij7  casts  upon  a  former  generation  in  representii\g  it  as  less 
cautious  on  this  point. 

But  we  are  disposed  to  question  the  fact,  however.  We  do 
not  believe  that  so  sudden  a  change  took  place  after  the  adop- 
tion of  tlie  Constitution,  as  seems  to  be  mtimated.  It  is  (m 
record  that  previous  to  tiiat  time  the  Free  States  offered  a  safe 
asylum  for  uie  fugitives.  Story,  in  his  Commentaries  on  the 
Constitution  says,  ^^  The  want  of  such  a  provinon  [for  returning 
fugitives,]  under  the  Confederation,  was  felt  as  a  grievous  in- 
convenience, by  tlie  slave-holding  States,  since  in  many  States 
no  aid  whatsoever  would  be  allowed  to  the  owners :  and  some- 
times indeed  they  met  with  open  resistance."  —  "  At  present," 
said  Mr.  Madison  in  the  Virginia  Convention,  (2  Elliott's  De- 
bates, p.  336,)  "  if  any  slave  elopes  to  any  of  those  States 
where  ^ves  are  free,  he  becomes  emancipated  by  their  laws." 
Mr.  Iredell,  of  Nortii  Carolina,  urged  the  same  point  in  the 
Convention  in  that  State.  In  Massachusetts,  New  York,  and 
some  other  States,  objections  were  r^sed  on  the  same  point. 
And  to  show  that  tiie  practice  and  the  theory  were  alike,  there 
is  a  letter  still  extant  &om  General  Washington  to  the  Collector 
of  Customs  i^  Portfflnouth,  soliciting  his  aid,  which  was  refused, 
in  capturing  a  slave-woman  who  had  eloped  from  his  (Oeneral 
W.'s)  popsession,  and  was  then  living,  where  she  subsequentiy 
died,  in  New  Hampshire,  an  unretumed  fugitive  I 

Leaving  this  topic,  the  ^^ Address"  next  recounts  with 
tolerable  ficumess  and  accuracy  the  history  of  legislation  in 
connection  with  Slavery  since  1819 :  concluding,  of  course, 
with  the  somewhat  striking  passages  of  the  last  session.  We 
cannot  help  bem^  here  reminded  of  the  exc^ent  French  lady 
somewhere  mentioned  by  Dr.  Franklin,  who  concluded  all  her 
disputes  witi^  the  words,— -^^  Jl  n^y  a  que  moi  qui  a  totyowi 


1849.]  Becmt  l>^fme$$  qf  SUmtry.  508 

rai9on.^*  Ko  one  can  ever  be  in  the  ri^t  bat  <mr  wAtor.  7%e 
position  set  ap  in  this  portion  must  not  be  admitted :  namel j, 
the  mherent  right  of  riave-kolding  in  the  Districts  and  Terri- 
tories where  Congress  has  ^*  exclusive  jurisdteticm,  in  all  cases 
whatsoever."  We  ofiet  the  chum  by  saying  that  Slavery  has 
no  inherent  right  anywhere !  It  only  exists  by  vidence.  It 
commences  in  the  subjugatioo  of  man  to  man's  power,  and  in 
bis  continued  submission  to  the  tyranny  which  be  cannot  suc- 
cessfully resist.  Without  superior  mi^t,  fimmed  or  real,  the 
domnion  of  the  slave-holder  would  not  endure  for  a  day. 
Now  whenever  and  wherever  such  an  unequal  struggle  is  ^otng 
on  secretly  between  the  few  and  the  many,  the  strong  and  the 
weak,  it  is  arrant  folly,  or  worse,  to  prate  of  *^  inherent  rights 
of  slave-holders.''  There  are  none  such.  It  is  legislative 
action,  guaranteeing  the  aid  of  tiie  government,  which  makes 
aU  the  right  of  property^  to  speak  in  slave-holders'  language, 
by  which  the  possession  is  secured.  When  the  master  can  no 
longer  hold  his  slave,  all  the  property  ceases ;  not  only  the 
value  is  at  an  end,  but  the  property  itself  ceases,  ip90  faetd. 
The  possession  is  here  idl  the  **  ten  points,"  or  none  at  all. 
Nor  can  the  law  do  any  thing  but  confirm  the  possession,  as  it 
confirms  to  a  man  the  posses^n  of  his  house.  It  gives  him 
no  right  of  property ;  but  comes  after  the  properfy  is  acqmred, 
to  secure  its  possession. 

What  are  the  vested  rights  of  slave-holders  in  relation  to 
these  portions  of  national  domain  ?  In  the  Constituticm  it  is 
declared,  that  ^^  Congress  shall  have  power  to  exercise  exclu- 
sive legislation  in  all  cases  whatsoever,  over  such  district,  &c." 
This  would  cover  the  case  of  the  District  of  Columbia.  The 
cession  was  made  subsequently  to  the  adoption  of  the  terms; 
and  the  inhabitants  have,  for  the  most  part,  or  wholly,  become 
residents  in  view  of  this  power  of  Congress.  So  far  from  any 
legal  enactment  to  guarantee  a  perp^ity  of  Slavery  there, 
the  terms  reserve  the  right  to  do  the  opposite*  whenever  occa- 
^on  may  demand  its  exercise. 

The  right  to  carry  slaves  into  the  new  Territories  is  urged 
with  such  earnestness,  that  it  is  evidentiy  the  principal  point 
in  the  mind  of  the  gentieman  who  prepared  the  ^^  Address ; " 
the  same  gentieman  who  negotiated  for  the  admission  of  Texas 
into  the  Union.  The  claim  based  upon  the  number  of  volun- 
teers engaged  in  the  war  with  Mexico,  was  very  property  and 
ably  refuted  in  figures  on  the  floor  of  Congress,  from  the 
rec(»rds  of  the  War  Department.    The  other  claim  requires  a 


504  Becent  Defence$  of  Slasoery.  [Sept 

moment's  notice.  It  is  that  ike  ownership  of  the  Territories  is 
vested  in  the  several  States,  and  in  the  mdividoals  comporaig 
tiiem;  and,  conseqnentlj,  that  in  order  to  equal  advantage 
from  the  acquisition,  it  is  necessary  that  Shivery  should  be 
allowed,  or  not  forbidden  there. 

But  let  it  be  observed,  in  the  first  place,  that  Slavery  is 
necessarily  either  a  creation  of  law,  or  a  result  of  force.  And 
when  the  force  would  not  be  sufficient  without  the  assistance 
of  government  for  its  mamtenanco,  it  may  be  regarded  as 
essentially  a  creation  of  law.  In  legislating  for  TerritcMies, 
Uie  good  of  all  the  inhabitants,  wUte  and  bbck,  the  respect 
for  tiie  rights  of  man,  and  the  corresponding  obligations  of 
humanity  have  a  claim  up<m  attention.  It  is  not  competent  to 
tiie  United  States  to  establish  a  monarchy, — although  it  has 
been  deemed  so  to  do  tiie  next  thmg,  appoint  a  militiuy  dicta- 
torslup ;  —  nor  would  it  seem  to  be  within  its  proper  province 
to  provide  for  imustice  or  inhumanity.  The  strong  will  take 
care  of  themselves  there,  or  anywhere.  And  tiie  sacred 
guarantees  of  the  law,  established  by  a  government,  must  be 
provided  for  the  weak  and  defenceless,  for  those  who  will  oth- 
erwise come  under  the  dominion  of  avarice  or  violence.  If  on 
the  ground  that  we  of  the  North  are  not  respondble  for  Slavery 
in  the  States,  all  action  there  may  be  denied,  action  at  least 
must  be  granted  where  responsibility  holds  for  the  gov^nments 
which  we  shall  be  called  to  erect  and  miuntain.  It  is  not  a 
question  wluch  we  care  to  reduce  to  argument :  we  have  no 
Ucense  to  grant  for  Slavery,  where  we  have  any  power  of 
prevention. 

In  tiie  second  place,  this  plea  for  an  equality  of  privileges 
completely  refutes  itself.  It  is  argued,  that  Congress  should 
impose  no  restrictions  upon  the  immigraticm  of  slave-holders 
with  their  property,  in  order  to  render  tiiem  equal  with  the 
non-slave-holders  who  go  thither  with  theirs.  But  the  case  to 
be  decided  is,  shall  this  idea  of  *^  property  in  man,''  which 
^^  Mr.  Madison  thought  it  wrong  to  admit  in  the  Constitution," 
(Papers,  p.  1429,)  be  protected  in  these  Territories?  Notlung 
but  absolute  legidation  can  protect  it ;  or  such  toleraticm  of 
existing  legislation  as  shall  be  equivalent  to  new  laws.  The 
mere  existence  of  oppression  is  not  one  half  so  much  to  be 
dreaded  as  the  existence  of  hiws  which  will  become  necessary 
for  its  mamtenance.  ' 

For  instance  ;  In  close  proximity  to  the  clause  relating  to 
'^  persons  held  to  service  or  labor,"  is  another  which  saya, 


1849.]  Beeent  Defences  of  Slavery.  505 

*'  The  citkens  ot^  each  state  shall  be  entitled  to  all  privileges 
and  immuiiities  of  citizens  in  the  several  estates,"  But  can 
this  declaration  be  timintainefi  in  a  slave  holding  community? 
Let  the  laws,  the  **  police  regulations,**  of  many  of  the  South- 
ern Stiites,  sav  whether  all  the  citizens  of  the  Northern  States 
have  there  secured  to  them  the  **  privileges  and  immunities  " 
of  citizens.  If  not,  in  ^vliat  way  shall  Slavery  be  rendered 
any  more  compatible  in  the  new  Territories,  ami  the  States  to 
be  yet  formed  of  them,  with  the  rights  which  are  violated  mih 
imjfunily  in  the  South  generally? 

There  are  nearly  400,000 '  free  colored  persons  in  the  Unit- 
ed States  ;  and  only  about  500,000  *  glave-holdei'B  ;  and  yet 
these  latter,  for  equality's  sake,  forsooth,  claim  favors  which  will 
work  the  forfeiture  of  all  the  rights  of  the  former !  Similar 
reasoning  may  be  applied  to  the  relative  condition  of  white 
laborers  J  where  slavedahor  is  permitted:  for  the  relation  of 
master  and  slave  can  never  exbt  without  so  deranging  the  true 
conditions  of  manual  labor,  that  freedahorers  cannot  be  invig- 
orated by  the  same  atmosphere  which  supports  slaves. 

This  cohfiict  of  interests  is  nothing  new.  The  South,  or 
rather  the  few  oppressors,  who  arrogantly  assume  to  speak  for 
the  millions  of  non-slave- holding  citizens  of  those  States,  have 
always  been  similarly  arrayed  against  freemen,  free  institutions 
and  free  labor.  The  diversity  of  interest  between  the  North 
and  the  South  is  radicaU  and  cannot  be  removed  while  its 
cause  remains.  Mr  Madison  felt  thiSf  and  owned  it,  in  the 
Convention  of  1787*  Free-labor  and  slave^kbor  have  an 
entirely  different  relation  to  those  who  are  benefited  by  them. 
It  is  a  great  mistake  still  to  regard  Slavery  as  the  groat  inter- 
est of  the  country-  The  Raleigh  Ilegister  recently  estimated 
the  whole  wealthy  slaves  included,  of  North  Carolina,  to  be 
$146,000,000  ;  while  that  of  the  city  of  Boston  is  $107,000,- 
000,  The  diversity  of  interest  is  not  in  the  wealth,  but  just 
where  it  was  in  1787,  when  Gouverneur  Morris  said  in  Con- 
vention, "  Southern  gentlemen  will  not  be  satisfied,  unless  they 
see  the  way  open  to  gaining  a  majority  in  the  public  councils* 
Either  the  distinction  between  North  and  South  is  fictitious  or 
real ;  if  fictitious,  let  it  be  dismissed,  and  let  us  proceed  with 
due  confidence.  If  it  be  real,  instead  of  attempting  to  blend 
incompatible  tbin^,  let  us  at  once  take  a  friendly  leave  of 

^ThCT«  fljE^uf^s  wc>iT  tiilccn  f^otn  ihc  rcn^^a^  of  1S4Q.    The  cftso  is  stronger 
k>»daj  ngftiust  tho  ftLttvc-b(»ldi?rv  thim  it  h  here  repre&etited. 


506  Jtecmt  D^enm  of  Slmery.  [Sept 

each  o&er/'  And  today,  the  qvMstion  <^  equality  ef  rights 
in  California  and  New  Mexico,  is  a  question  of  political  power 
and  importance,  rendered  the  more  urgent  by  the  defection  in 
thepolitical  parties  of  the  friends  of  humanity/ 

We  have  said  thus  much  in  reply  to  some  of  tiie  podtions^^ 
this  '^  Address,"  not  because  the  question  seemed  to  admit  of 
any  argument,  but  because  we  have  an  apprehension  that  tiiere 
are  nearly  or  quite  as  many  persons  in  the  Free  States  as  in 
the  Slave  States,  who  will  admit  the  eonectness  of  the  coqcIi:^ 
sions. 

The  Northern  mind  has  in  some  manner  become  strangely 
inconsistent  on  this  subject ;  and  the  same  men  who  will  deem 
it  wise,  good,  and  noble  to  sympathize  with  the  Of^nressed 
subjects  of  a  kingdom,  who  have  lost  only  the  freedom  of  the 

Sress,  or  been  excessively  taxed,  believe  it  wrong  in  a  high 
egree  to  manifest  similar  regret  for  the  wretched  inmates  of 
the  ^^  prison  house  of  bondage."  ^^  The  rights  of  slave-holders 
are  sacred ;  but  tiie  slave's  right  to  himself  is  questionable." 
Mr.  Calhoun  will  find  many  men  in  Massachusetts  who  believe 
with  him  and  his  coadjutors,  tiiat  ozdy  disaster  will  come  from 
acknowledging  the  rights  of  huitian  nature  in  their  slaves* 
The  misrepresented  story  of  Hayti,  and  not  the  wellauthenti- 
cated  reports  from  Jamaica,  finds  a  ready  place  in  their  minds. 
This  assumption  of  unconquerable  aversion  on  the  part  of 
liberated  slaves,  whom  it  is  one  part  of  tiie  same  sy^m  of 
logic  to  prove  very  lomg  to  their  masters,  is  unjust  to  tiiat 
common  sentiment  of  ^titude  for  which  this  deeply  injured 
and  ever-enduring  race  has  idways  been  signalized.  Let  lum 
who  will,  compare  the  danger  from  such  as  these  with  the 
danger  from  a  horde  of  foreigners,  annually  pourbg  into  our 
Atlantic  cities,  not  only  degraded  and  ignorant,  but,  worse  than 
all,  full  of  the  lowest  superstition.  This  cry  of  danger  b  only 
a  skilful  manoeuvre  to  throw  off  a  demand  for  right,  upon  a 
claim  £6r  equality  of  social  position.  The  slaves,  like  the  Irish, 
may  be  free  without  having  their  relation  to  their  present  mas^ 
ters  otherwise  changed.  It  is  only  owing  to  the  generous, 
confiding,  and  forgiving  nature  of  those  men  and  women,  that 
such  terrible  wrongs  have  not  raised  a  frenssy,  wldch  could 

*  The  Becent  production  by  Mr.  Beoton  of  docaraentary  evidence  to  show  the 
inconsistency  or  Mr.  Calhoun's  present  position  with  that  which  he  maintained 
while  in  President  Munroe's  Cabinet,  may  open  a  further  testimony  to  the  state- 
ments of  ^e  text;  namely,  that  the  questions  raised  concerning  prapertr  and 
constructive  righto  of  that  kind,  are  of  less  moment  than  that  or  politiciyi 
preeminence  and  power. 


1849.]  Eumit  Defences  of  Slaeery.  607 

only  be  allayed  in  indiscriimiiate  slaaghter  of  the  oppressor 
and  his  race.  Emancipation  will  prevent  all  this  hazara,  which 
must  be  dailj  augpiented  under  such  unnatural  conditions  of 
life. 

The  various  provisions  which  slave-holders  and  their  abettors 
are  desirous  of  making  for  the  present  emergency,  have  a  ter- 
rible tendency,  which  is  nothing  else  than  a  perpetuation  and 
indefinite  exteodon  of  the  servitude  on  which  they  live.  Here 
is  the  fearful  mistake  of  the  perpetualist :  he  is  binding  bur- 
dens on  other  generations,  —  burdens  of  which  he  may  some- 
times himself  complain.  There  are  no  incipient  steps  taken 
for  emancipation,  no  acknowledgment  of  the  wrong  and  curse 
of  Slavery,  in  words  that  show  an  earnest  purpose  to  do  well. 
The  wailing  that  ^^  the  slaves  are  unfit  for  freedom,"  is  mock- 
ery, while  no  measures  are  proposed  to  prepare  them  for  it, 
and  while  every  thin^  is  done  to  prevent  their  attainment  of 
such  a  condition.  It  is,  we  say,  the  mistake  of  the  perpetualist 
and  hb  abettors,  that  they  will  not  allow  the  seed  to  be  sown 
to<Lay  for  a  future  harvest.  In  the  whole  of  Mr.  Calhoun^s 
^'Address,"  there  is  not  <Hie  sentence  which  recognizes  the  slave 
as  a  man,  or  as  any  thing  else  than  as  an  instrument  of  labor 
and  wealth,  or  as  an  untamed  beast,  daily  adding  to  tiie  haz- 
ards which  his  existence  as  a  slave  creates.  Mr.  Fishes  and 
Mr.  clay  scarcely  do  any  better. 

The  plans  of  perpetuaUsts  and  extensionbts  should  meet  but 
one  refAy — it  is  the  prophecy  and  the  counsel  which  are  to  be 
read,  witiiout  a  seer's  vision,  from  the  records  of  the  past :  — * 
Slavery,  where  it  now  exists,  must  be  exterminated  for  the 
good  of  the  master  and  the  slave ! — for  the  well-beins;  of  man- 
kind it  must  extend  no  further !  The  abolitionist  is  ue  fiiend 
of  the  master,  when  with  hopeful  words  he  wins  the  slave  away 
from  dreams  of  vengeance,  in  which  streams  of  blood  was^b 
away  the  traces  of  oppression,  to  a  higher  hope  of  voluntary 
emancipation.  If  there  is  no  power  other  than  the  moral  ap* 
peal  of  discussion  conc^mmg  the  perpetuation  of  Slavery,  we 
have  something  more  than  wat  to  exercise  in  regard  to  its 
further  extension :  and  of  that,  we  say,  right  or  wrrag  as  re- 
gards the  compromises  of  other  days,  violation  or  not  of  the 
supposed  terms  of  any  past  compact,  we  dare  not  so  (^end  the 
majesty  of  Truth,  so  violate  the  solemn  obligations  of  Human- 
ity, so  disregard  the  claims  of  Justice,  as  to  be  the  means  ever 
80  indirectiy  of  opening  new  markets  of  men  and  women. 

Then  as  to  fu^tives  from  slavery.    The  sentiment  of  the 


508  Beeent  Defenet%  of  Slavery.  [Sepi 

North  is  rapidly  taking  that  ponticm  when  it  will  be  imposdble 
to  give  any  ready  compliance,  or  anything  but  a  legal,  forced 
submission,  to  the  present  construction  of  the  Constitutioit. 
That  fugitives  have  been  surrendered  otherwise,  and  with 
alacrity,  will  not  afford  any  sanction  for  a  continuance  of  the 
practice.  No  legal  impediments  are  in  force,  none  will  proba- 
bly be  put  in  force,  in  any  Free  State,  other  than  those  which 
relate  to  all  kinds  of  property,  its  proof,  and  the  payment  <^ 
charges,  before  it  will  be  legally,  sof^r  as  the  judiciary  is  con- 
cern^, allowed  to  be  taken  away.  If  Mr.  Calhoun,  in  the 
<^  Address,"  means  to  intimate  that  the  spirit  of  the  Constitu- 
tion requires  that  "  persons  held  to  service  or  labor  "  shall  be 
arrested  by  the  State  in  which  they  have  taken  refuge,  and  be 
delivered  up  voluntarily  by  such  State,  or  if  aid  be  required 
by  the  spirit  of  the  terms  of  the  compact,  tiien  the  enactments 
of  several  of  the  Free  States  have  been  onerous  and  unjust 
But  we  remind  all  who  think  thus,  that  this  was  ezpr^sly 
denied,  when  asked  for,  in  the  Convention ! 

Public  sentiment  now  forbids  that  any  man  should  be  carried 
t>ff  by  violence  before  it  has  been  fully  proved  that  there  is  a 
claim  upon  him  for  ^service.''  The  simple  affirmation  of 
ownership  will  not  answer  when  the  clsum  is  contested  by  the 
individual  whose  welfare  is  most  concerned  in  the  issue.  The 
law  authorizes  ^^  seizure  "  without  ^^  a  breach  of  the  peace,  or 
illegal  violence."  The  Act  expressly  requires  an  adjudicati<m 
of  the  question,  before  an  officer  such  as  it  designates.  ^*  A 
reputed  slave  claims  his  freedom ;  he  pleads  that  he  is  a  man, 
that  he  was  by  nature  free,  that  he  has  not  forfeited  his  firee- 
dom,  nor  relinquished  it.  Now  unless  the  clumant  can  prove 
that  he  is  not  a  man,  that  he  was  not  bom  free,  or  that  he  has 
forfeited  or  relinquished  his  freedom,  he  must  be  judged  free ; 
the  justice  of  his  diaim  must  be  acknowledged."  * 

If  such  proceedings,  which  the  nature  of  the  case  seems  to 
warrant,  or  ratiier  require,  are  unjustifiable,  then  indeed  are 
Northern  legislation  and  jurisprudence  onerous,  and  scarcely 
to  be  endured ;  but  if  Southern  men  may  urge  such  a  claim 
as  this  of  the  ^^  Address, "  then  to  us,  to  whom  freedom  for  all 
is  a  cardinal  point  of  belief,  if  we  cannot  enjoy  the  privileges, 
such  as  they  are,  of  the  republic  without  becoming  implicated 
in  returning  fugitives,  the  ground  of  complaint  would  seem  to 
be  on  this  side  rather  than  upon  the  other.    In  either  case,  we 

*BeT.  D.  Rice's  Address  in  Conyention  in  Kentockj,  1792. 


1849.]  Jieeeni  Defenee$  of  Slavery.  509 

shoald  Dot  be  surprised  if  the  sons  should  adopt  the  sentiment 
of  the  fathers  who  "  held  it  to  be  a  self-evident  truth," — "that 
whenever  any  form  of  government  becomes  destructive  of  these 
ends,  [life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness,]  it  is  the  right 
of  the  people  to  alter  and  abolish  it,  and  to  constitute  a  new 
government,  laying  its  foundations  on  such  principles,  and 
organizing  its  powers  in  such  form,  as  to  them  shall  seem  most 
likely  to  effect  their  safety  and  happiness."  If  the  government 
be  "  insufferable,"  which  does  not  aid  the  master  to  rescue  his 
fugitive  slave,  so  is  it  much  more  insupportable  if  it  compel  a 
New  England  citizen  to  sanction  so  cruel  a  wrong  aa  the  bind- 
ing of  undeserved  fetters  upon  human  limbs ! 

And  this  is  the  sole  issue  to-day.  It  is  probably  true  that 
according  to  the  Southern  intention  of  the  compact,  the  South 
does  not  receive  its  own ;  and  there  seems  to  be  no  will  or 
power  to  render  the  "  pound  of  flesh  "  which  is  "  written  in 
the  bond."  Our  fathers  made  the  compromise,  which  these 
signers  testify  to  have  been  well  observed  during  their  lives. 
We  cannot  do  as  it  is  siud  they  did,  because  were  the  question 
again  opened,  we  should  not  reenact  the  same  ambiguous 
words.  Of  the  thousands  who  would  loudly  denounce  an  in- 
fringement of  the  Constitution,  or  any  question  of  its  validity, 
we  do  not  believe  that  there  could  be  found  in  Massachusetts 
one  hundred  men  so  recreant  to  the  cause  of  Freedom  aa  now 
seriously  and  solemnly  to  adopt  a  Constitution  with  such  a 
clause  in  it,  for  such  purposes.*  The  men  of  1787  were  misled 
by  the  declaration  in  Convention  that  Slavery  would  soon  be 
extinct. 

The  Pro-slavery  and  the  Anti-slavery  men  ^oin  battie  on 
this  ground : — Both  sides  singularlv  enough  mam  tain  that  the 
compact  has  been  broken,  and  to  be  now  scarcely  more  than 
an  evil.  The  passage  of  the  laws  of  Massachusetts  and  Rhode 
Island,  though  no  literal  violation  of  the  compromise,  is  still 
a  refusal  of  the  assistance  to  which  the  Soutii  thinks  itself 
entitied  by  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the  agreement :  on  the 
other  side,  when  South  Carolina  and  Louisiana  adopted  the 
police  regulations  concermng  free  colored  seamen,  and,  still 
more,  when  they  refused  to  test  those  laws  before  the  supreme 
tribunal  of  the  nation,  they  purposely  denied  that  "  the  citizens 

*  [We  wish  the  author  may  be  correct  in  his  estimate,  bat  think  we  coold 
easily  find  a  handred ''  good  whigs,"  and  another  hundrcNl  **  ffood  democrats," 
in  a  single  ward  in  Boston,  who  would  cfaeerftiUy  reenact  that  clause  of  die 
Constittttion,  and  remain  in  good  political  repute.^ Ed.] 


610  Bscent  Defences  of  Slavery.  [Sept. 

of  each  State  shall  he  entitled  to  all  privfleges  and  immunities 
of  citizens  in  the  several  States,"  in  the  sense  in  which  the 
provision  was  agreed  to  here.  It  is  a  question  of  political 
nonestj,  how  long  such  obvious  infractions  shall  be  screened 
from  observation  under  a  compact  which  their  enactmenk  vir- 
tually sets  aside.  The  retaliation,  which  seems  to  some  an 
easv  method  of  adjusting  the  question,  has  no  honesty  in  it. 
As  we  apprehend  the  matter,  some  new  adjustment  of  the 

auestions  at  issue  is  imperatively  demanded.  It  is  affirmed 
iat  the  States  came  into  the  Union  for  specific  purposes,  with 
specific  mutual  concessions  and  admissions.  These  gentlemen 
now  urge  that  the  North  refuses  to  abide  by  the  terms  of  the 
partnership.  Setting  aside  the  injustice  perpetrated  under 
their  laws  in  their  maritime  cities,  an  outrage  which  ought  to 
have  sealed  their  lips  concerning  violations  of  good  faith,  let 
us  look  at  the  case  from  their  position.  It  is  in  the  "  bond  " 
that  slaves  shall  be  redeliverea  to  their  claimants,  when  found 
in  a  Free  State ;  the  South  does  not  receive  the  indemnity  for 
coming  into  the  Union,  (thus  they  state  the  case,)  and  now 
demands  that  the  terms  should  be  more  strictly  complied  with, 
or  the  partnership  declared  at  an  end.  We  do  not  see  how 
this  trouble  can  be  avoided.  Here  is  an  issue  to  be  met  in  no 
truckling  way.  No  new  compromise  made  in  Congress,  or 
elsewhere,  will  bind  the  people  of  the  Free  States !  The  will 
of  the  people  will  have  its  expression  :  if  that  will  shall  sanc- 
tion the  use  of  the  Free  States  as  hunting-grounds,  and  permit 
marauders  on  these  hills,  like  the  soldiers  and  hounds  in  the 
everglades  of  Florida,  to  ferret  out  the  panting  fugitives,  and 
to  return  them  to  that  condition  of  wretchedness  which  has 
driven  them  to  try  a  hope  so  desperate  as  the  chances  of 
escape  offer,  then  let  it  be  so,  and  as  the  South  desires ;  if 
not,  let  there  be  no  pretension  of  doing  that  which  will  never 
be  performed,  or  censure  for  the  party  who  is  aggrieved  by 
anyneglect  of  the  letter  and  spirit  of  the  law. 

The  "Address"  of  Mr.  Berrien,  at  least,  deserves  a  reply; 
and  the  reply  should  be  candid,  manl^,  straightforward.  It  is 
not  to  be  expected  that  the  North  will  begm  to  bluster  ;  that 
is  not  its  usual  way  of  announcing  its  conclusions.  Any  re- 
sponse from  this  quarter  must  have  the  impress  of  the  North- 
em  character ;  and  be  calm,  energetic,  and  earnest.  It  must 
be  such  that/  there  shall  be  no  questions  to  be  agam  raised 
concerning  its  import.  It  need  never  be  seen  in  print,  or 
beard  aloud.    But  it  may  be  manifested  in  ttie  character  and 


1849.]  Becent  Defences  of  Slavery.  611 

convictions  of  the  men  who  shall  annually  visit  the  aeat  of 
government  to  take  part  in  the  affiiirs  of  legislation.  The  time 
for  weak  men,  for  pi^lanimous  men,  for  men  who  will  saj  and 
unsay  bold  things ;  for  men  who  will  truckle  for  seats  near  the 
throne  ;  for  men  who  are  ^^  absent  on  leave,"  or  indisposed  at 
home,  when  serious  votes  are  to  be  taken,  —  the  time  for  such 
men  has  gone  by.  They  do  not  express  the  earnest,  living, 
free  thought  of  the  Free  States. 

Once  again,  we  say,  the  signers  of  this  ^*  Address,"  and  the 
South  generally,  do  not  understand  the  views  and  feelings  of 
the  freemen  of  the  North ;  but  they  clearly  apprehend  that 
there  can  be  only  one  result  of  so  much  agitation ;  it  is  that 
result  which  they  are  attempting  to  prevent.  They  design  to 
move  the  South  to  insist  that  the  North  shall  do  more  to  help 
and  less  to  hurt  the  cause  of  oppression.  If  it  be  possible, 
they  will  intimidate  some  by  the  prospect  of  a  severance  of 
the  Union,  or  by  some  similar  scarecrow  yet  to  be  erected. 
Will  their  end  be  answered  ?  We  believe  not.  There  is  one 
admission  in  the  "  Address  "  for  which  we  are  thankful,  from 
which  the  friends  of  freedom  mav  take  courage,  and  which 
will  silence,  we  hope,  the  lips  of  those  who  are  continuallv 
affirming  that  the  agitation  has  done  and  can  do  no  good. 
Forty-eight  of  the  perpetualists  thus  declare  themselves  con- 
cemmg  its  influence  :  ^'  This  agitationy  and  the  use  of  these 
means,  have  been  continued^  toiih  more  or  less  activity ,  for  a 
series  of  years,  vat  without  doing  much  towards  effecting  the 
object  intended.^* 

We  do  not  apprehend,  in  tiie  least,  a  dissolution  of  the 
Union.  There  are  not  perpetualists  enough  who  will  peril  it 
for  the  sake  of  Slavery ;  or  retsin  Slavery  at  its  expense,  if 
the  thing  were  practicable,  as  it  is  not.  But  for  the  power  of 
the  Free  States  added  to  their  own,  the  indefinable  power  of 
the  Union,  unseen,  but  everywhere  felt,  there  is  not  strength 
enough  to  keep  three  millions  of  slaves  in  bondage  in  the 
Southern  States.  Many  of  their  shrewdest  men  have  said  as 
much.  It  will  be  a  long  day  before  the  minds  of  the  people 
are  prepared  for  that  result.  And  while  the  North  is  becom- 
ing more  alive  to  the  inconsistency  of  Slavery  in  a  republic, 
and  more  disposed  to  resent  the  aggressions  of  the  Slave- 
power,  for  every  friend  of  dissolution  made  here,  an  opponent 
of  the  plan  is  made  at  the  South.  Two  large  parties  have 
now  an  existence,  both  of  which  urge  a  dissolution  of  the 
Union,  —  the  Northern,  to  be  free  from  the  responsibility  of 


612  Recent  Defeneee  of  Slavery.     ""  [Sept. 

upholding  the  domestic  institutioa  of  other  people,  and  the 
Southern,  professedly  to  support  this  institution ;  we  are  no 
prophet,  if  the  increase  of  the  one  does  not  annihilate  the 
other. 

The  ^'  Address  "  concludes  with  an  appeal  for  union  among 
Southern  men  on  this  subject,  and  in  resistance  to  the  en- 
croachments of  the  North.  The  futility  of  any  attempt  to 
array  the  South,  as  a  section,  against  the  North,  will  be  appar- 
ent when  it  is  remembered  that  not  more  than  one  quarter  of 
the  white  citizens  are  themselves  slave-holders ;  and  that  one 
half  the  remainder  are  degraded  by  the  prevalence  of  the 
same  spirit  which  crushes  the  colored  man  to  the  earth.  These 
gentlemen  may  have  yet  to  learn  that  it  is  one  thing  to  unite 
men  on  the  side  of  Justice  and  Humanity,  and  another  to  band 
them  on  the  opposite  side.  Men  will  never  do  valiant  deeds 
for  conventional  privileges  which  have  no  foundation  in  justice 
and  no  relation  to  humanity.  Beside,  all  human  nature,  not 
the  North  alone,  is  united  against  oppression ;  the  very  stones 
cry  out  against  it ;  the  genius  of  the  republic  is  its  foe  ;  the 
law  of  progress  disowns  it.  It  is  weak  in  itself,  and  the  source 
of  all  kinds  of  weakness  where  it  exists.  The  vaporing  of 
eloquence  will  not  save  that  which  is  founded  on  injustice,  and 
which  can  have  no  breath  of  true  life,  no  strength  of  arms. 
He  is  in  a  sad  plight,  who  holds  a  man  in  his  right  hand,  and 
contends  with  the  Universe  for  his  supremacy  with  bis  left. 
"Indeed,  I  tremble  for  my  country,"  were  Jefferson's  oft- 
quoted  and  impressive  words,  "  when  I  reflect  that  Qod  is 
just,  and  that  his  justice  cannot  sleep  for  ever.  Considering 
numbers,  nature,  and  natural  means  only,  a  revolution  of  the 
wheels  of  fortune,  an  exchange  of  situations,  is  among  possible 
events  ;  —  the  Almighty  has  no  attribute  that  can  take  sides 
with  us  in  such  a  contest." 

Good  men  of  all  parties  and  sections  will  soon  admit  the 
inconsistency  maintained  in  this  republic,  and  be  as  earnest  as 
the  most  zealous  of  tonlay,  in  escaping  from  the  blight  of  so 
unnatural  a  condition  as  Slavery.  The  fanaticism  of  slave- 
holding  is  not  now  what  it  once  was.  We  can  remember  when 
it  spoke  in  different  terms  from  those  of  this  ^'Address," 
which,  after  all,  only  received  the  signatures  of  a  small  num- 
ber of  the  Senators  and  Representatives  of  the  Southern 
States.  It  was  once  or  twice  recommitted  to  be  modified ;  and 
finally  was  subscribed  by  forty-eight  of  the  one  hundred  and 
twenty-one  delegates  in  Congress  from  slave-holding  States ! 


1849.]  Beeent  Defend  qf  Slavery.  518 

The  time  is  rapidly  hastening  on,  when  the  whole  voice  of 
the  community  shall  decree,  in  tones  that  will  endure  no 
denial,  a  separation  from  tyranny.  The  day  of  pro^lavery 
excitements  and  mobs  in  the  North  has  whoUy  passed  away. 
The  only  apprehension  to  be  entertained  is,  that  for  a  while 
longer  the  spirit  of  the  unhappy  words  of  Roger  Sherman,  who, 
in  the  Convention,  thought  that  the  North  ^ould  yield,  if  the 
South  insisted,  will  prevail  in  the  public  councils  of  the  coun- 
try ;  in  other  words,  that  men  will  sacrifice  the  Just  and  True, 
as  heretofore,  to  the  expedient  of  to-day.  There  are  three 
positions,  which,  including,  perhaps,  all  actual  and  immediate 
connection  with  oppresrion,  ought  to  be  taken  and  sacredly 
maintained  by  friends  of  freedom  at  the  North,  at  all  times, 
independenUyof  the  moral  agitation  of  the  subject,  in  a  broader 
view  :  —  1.  The  abolition  of  Slavery  in  the  District  of  Colum- 
bia;  or,  if  that  be  impossible,  the  removal  of  the  seat  of  gov- 
ernment to  a  freer  region ;  —  2.  The  annihilation  of  the  com- 
merce in  human  flesh  between  the  several  States ;  —  8.  The 
better  protection  of  the  colored  citizens  of  the  Free  States  from 
the  danger  to  which  they  are  exposed  of  arrest  and  removal 
under  sanction  of  a  corrupt  administration  of  an  iniquitous 
provision ;  and  of  imprisonment  and  sale  when  going  for  legal 
and  proper  purposes,  on  peaceable  errands,  to  Southern  ports. 

The  first  two  of  these  are  surely  within  the  literal  construo- 
tion  of  the  powers  of  Congress,  as  enumerated  in  the  Consti- 
tution. The  third  is  founded  upon  the  common  rights  of  human 
nature,  and  is  demanded  by  the  constant  recurrence  of  out- 
rages for  which  the  victims  can  have  no  remedy.  It  is  to  se- 
cure these,  as  well  as  to  prevent  the  extension  of  the  domm 
of  Slavery,  that  we  are  to  pledge  ourselves.  And  the  result, 
80  surely  as  the  cause  of  truth,  justice,  and  love  will  {nrevail 
over  the  opposite  ways  of  wrong,  wUl  not  be  for  ever  wanting 
to  human  efforts. 

A  few  hot-headed  diampions  cannot  always  retard  the  march 
of  liberal  principles.  Such  men  do  not  now  fitiy  rejHresent 
the  section  which  in  a  few  years,  themselves  unchanged,  they 
will  grossly  misrepresent.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  non-slave- 
holders of  the  South  will  soon  cease  to  be  thus  identified  with 
the  institution  which  degrades  their  labor,  and  debases  their 
manhood.  Homo  homini  out  Deue  out  ItijmSy  said  Erasmus. 
If  the  slave  have  found  (me  half  the  keen  satire  to  be  too  sadly 
true,  he  may  yet  learn  that  the  other  has  something  of  a  reality 
in  human  experience  1 

NO.  vm.  84 


514  Roskm's  Sef!>en  L<mp%  of  ArchUeetuare.       [Sept. 


Abt.  Vn.  —  The  Seven  Lampe  of  ArckUeeture.  By  John 
Buskin,  author  of  ^^  Modern  Painters."  With  lUtistrations, 
drawn  and  etched  by  the  author.  New  York:  Jolm  Wiley. 
1849.    12mo.    pp.  vni.  and  186. 

Thesb  ^^  Lamps ''  Mr.  Rus^  explains  to  be  the  *^  laws  of 
right/'  in  the  ^'  peculiar  aspects  of  them  which  belong  to  the 
firet  of  the  arts '' ;  namely,  Architecture.  He  entitles  them 
as  follows :  Truth,  Power,  Beauty,  life,  Memory,  Obedience. 

Here,  already,  is  a  confusion  between  the  laws  of  Art  and 
the  laws  that  should  govern  the  life  of  the  artbt,  who  is  not 
only  an  artist,  but  aUo  a  moral  being,  and  as  such  held  to 
obedience  to  ihe  ^Maws  of  right,"  if  he  would  deserve  success, 
in  this,  or  in  any  otiier  vocation.  Art,  however,  is  indifferent 
to  persons,  and  cares  not  whether  her  results  be  arrived  at 
in  prayer  and  sacrifice,  or  in  rioting  and  wantonness ;  by  a 
Rubens  or  by  a  Buonarotti. 

In  this  specimen  we  have  a  type  of  the  whole  book.  It  is 
filled  with  earnest,  striking  criticism,  from  a  lugh,  even  relig- 
ious point  of  view,  but  not  very  comprehensive  nor  anywhere  | 
going  to  the  root  of  the  matter,  and  mingled  throughout  vrith 
nebidous  theories,  with  whims,  and  sometimes  even  with  cant, 
though  of  the  kind  that  Oarlyle  calls  ^^  sincere  cant.'' 

T^t  Mr.  Ruskin  really  has  to  say  might  come  under  a 
much  narrower  heading  than  his  title-pa^e ;  this,  namely,  the 
necessity  of  simplicity,  truthfulness,  and  stnughtforwardness 
in  Architecture. 

And,  indeed,  in  criticism  of  the  architecture  of  the  da^  this 
should  be  the  prominent  point,  a  definite  otm,  for  this  is  the 
first  requisite  to  success  in  any  thing,  and  yet  it  is  rarely  to 
be  found  in  our  architecture. 

To  this  all  Mr.  Buskm's  canons,  except  the  fourth  and 
sxth,  may  be  reduced ;  the  necesaty,  before  all  things,  of  a 
definite  aim.  We  extract  some  of  Us  glowing  sentences  to 
this  point :  — 

<<It  is  the  misfortune  of  most  of  our  modem  buildings  that  we 
would  fain  have  an  universal  excellence  in  them ;  and  so  part  of 
the  funds  must  go  in  painting,  part  in  gilding,  part  in  fitUng  up, 
part  in  painted  windows,  part  in  small  steeples,  part  in  ornaments 
here  and  there ;  and  neither  the  windows,  nor  the  steeple,  nor  the 
ornaments,  are  worth  their  materials.  For  there  is  a  crust  about 
the  impressible  part  of  men's  minds,  which  must  be  pierced 


1849.]       Sualdn's /S!9t;an£amp«o/ilr^Ai^etf^ur^.  515 

throagh  before  they  can  be  Umched  to  the  quick :  and  thoogh  we 
maj  prick  at  it  and  scratch  it  in  a  thonsand  places,  we  might  as 
well  hare  let  it  alone  if  we  do  not  come  throogh  somewhere  with 
a  deep  thrust ;  and  if  we  can  give  such  a  thrust  anywhere,  there 
is  no  need  of  another ;  it  qeed  not  even  be  so  *  wide  as  a  church 
door/  so  that  it  be  enough.  And  mere  weight  will  do  this ;  it  is 
a  clumsy  way  of  doing  it,  but  an  effectual  one,  too ;  and  the  i^thy 
which  cannot  be  pierced  through  by  a  small  steeple,  nor  shone 
through  by  a  small  window,  can  be  broken  through  in  a  moment 
by  the  mere  weight  of  a  great  walL  Let,  therefore,  the  architect 
who  has  not  large  resources,  choose  his  point  of  attack  first,  and, 
if  he  choose  size,  let  him  abandon  decoration ;  for,  unless  they  are 
concentrated,  and  numerous  enough  to  make  their  concentration 
conspicuous,  all  his  ornaments  together  would  not  be  worth  one 
huge  stone.  And  the  choice  must  be  a  decided  one,  without 
compromise.  It  must  be  no  question  whether  his  capitals  would 
not  look  better  with  a  little  carving-^ let  him  leave  them  huge  as 
blocks ;  or  whether  his  arches  should  not  have  richer  architraves 
—  let  him  throw  them  a  foot  higher,  if  he  can:  a  yard  more 
across  the  nave  will  be  worth  more  to  him  than  a  tesselated 
pavement ;  and  another  fathom  of  outer  wall,  than  an  army  of 
pinnacles." 

^  After  size  and  weight,  the  power  of  architecture  may  be  sud 
to  depend  on  the  quantity  (whether  measured  in  space  or  intense* 
ness)  of  its  shadow ;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  the  reality  of  its 
works,  and  the  use  and  influence  they  have  in  the  daily  life  of 
men  (as  opposed  to  those  works  of  art  with  which  we  have  noth- 
ing to  do  but  in  times  of  rest  and  pleasure)  require  of  it  that  it 
should  express  a  kind  of  human  sympathy,  by  a  measure  of  dark- 
ness as  great  as  there  is  in  human  life ;  and  that  as  the  great 
poem  and  great  fiction  generally  affect  us  most  by  the  majesty 
of  their  masses  of  shade,  and  cannot  take  hold  upon  us  if  they 
affect  a  continuance  of  lyric  sprightliness,  but  must  be  serious 
often  and  sometimes  melancholy,  else  they  do  not  express  the 
truth  of  this  wild  world  of  ours ;  so  there  must  be,  in  this  mag- 
nificently human  art  of  architecture,  some  equivalent  expression 
for  the  trouble  and  wrath  of  life,  for  its  sorrow  and  its  mystery ; 
and  this  it  can  only  give  by  depth  or  diffusion  of  gloom,  by  tibe 
frown  upon  its  front,  and  the  shadow  of  its  recess.  So  that 
Rembrandtism  is  a  noble  manner  in  architecture,  though  a  false 
one  in  punting ;  and  I  do  not  believe  that  ever  any  building  was 
truly  great,  unless  it  had  mighty  masses,  vigorous  and  deep,  of 
shadow  mingled  with  its  surface.  And  among  the  first  habits  that 
a  young  architect  should  learn,  is  that  of  thinking  in  shadow,  not 
looking  at  a  design  in  its  miserable  liny  skeleton  ;  but  conceiving 
it  as  it  will  be  when  the  dawn  lights  it,  and  the  dusk  leaves  it ; 
when  its  stones  will  be  hot,  and  its  crannies  cool;  when  the  lizards 


516  Bxidda^s  Sevm  Lan^i  of  ArchiUeture.        [S^p^ 

will  bask  oo  the  one,  and  the  birds  baild  in  the  other.  Let  him 
design  with  the  sense  of  cold  and  heat  upon  him ;  let  him  cut  out 
the  shadows,  as  men  dig  wells  in  anwat^^  plains;  and  lead  along 
the  lights,  as  a  founder  does  his  hot  metal ;  let  him  keep  the  fbU 
command  of  both,  and  see  that  he  knows  how  theyiall,  and  where 
they  fade."  ^It  matters  not  how  clumsy,  how  common,  the 
means  are  that  get  weight  and  shadow  —  sloping  roof^  jutting 
porch,  projecting  balcony,  hollow  niche,  massy  gargoyle,  frowning 
parapet ;  get  but  gloom  and  simplicity,  atid  all  good  things  wiU 
follow  in  their  plaice  and  time."  *^  We  are  none  of  us  so  good 
architects  as  to  be  able  to  work  habitually  beneath  our  strength ; 
and  yet  there  is  not  a  building  that  I  know  of,  lately  raised, 
wherein  it  is  not  sufficiently  evident  that  neither  architect  nor 
builder  has  done  his  best.  It  is  the  especial  characteristic  of 
modem  work.  All  old  work,  nearly,  has  been  hard  work.  It  may 
be  the  hard  work  of  children,  of  barbarians,  of  rustics ;  but  it  is 
ahrays  their  utmost  .  .  .  Let  us  have  done  with  this  kind  of 
work  at  once.  ...  Do  not  let  us  boss  our  roofs  with  wretched, 
half-worked,  blunt-edged  rosettes ;  do  not  let  us  flank  our  gates 
with  rigid  imitations  of  mediaeval  statuary.  Such  things  are  mere 
insults  to  common  sense,  and'  only  unfit  us  for  feeling  the  nobility 
of  their  prototypes.  We  have  so  much,  suppose,  to  be  spent  in 
decoration ;  let, us  go  the  Flaxman  of  his  Ume,  whoever  he  may 
be,  and  bid  him  carve  for  us  a  single  statue,  Meze,  or  capital,  or 
as  many  as  we  can  afford,  compelling  upon  him  the  one  conation, 
that  they  shall  be  the  best  he  can  do.  .  •  •  It  may  be  thai 
we  do  not  desire  ornament  of  so  high  an  order :  choose,  then,  a 
less  developed  style,  also,  if  you  will,  rougher  material ;  the  law 
which  we  are  enforcing  requires  only  that  what  we  pretend  to  do 
and  to  give,  shall  both  be  the  best  of  their  kind ;  choose,  there- 
fore, the  Norman  hatchet  work,  instead  of  the  Flaxman  frieze  and 
statue,  but  let  it  be  the  best  hatchet  work ;  and  if  you  cannot 
affi>rd  marble,  use  Caen  stone,  but  from  the  best  bed ;  and  if  not 
stone,  brick,  but  the  best  brick ;  preferring  always  what  is  good 
of  a  lower  order  of  work  and  material,  to  what  is  bad  of  a  higher." 
^  The  first  condition  which  just  feeling  requires  in  church  fbmi- 
ture  is,  that  it  should  be  simple  and  unaffected,  not  fictitious  nor 
tawdry.  ...  I  recollect  no  instance  of  a  want  of  sacred 
character,  or  of  any  marked  and  painful  ugliness,  in  the  simplest 
or  most  awkwardly  built  village  church,  where  stone  and  wood 
were  roughly  and  nakedly  used,  and  the  windows  latticed  with 
white  glass.  But  the  smoothly  stuccoed  walls,  the  flat  roofs  with 
ventilator  ornaments,  the  barred  windows  with  jaundiced  borders 
and  dead  ground  square  panes,  the  gilded  or  bronzed  wood,  the 
painted  iron,  the  wretched  upholstery  of  curtains  and  cushions, 
and  pew  heads  and  altar  railings,  and  Birmingham  metal  candle* 
9lkkEf  Bad  above  all,  the  green  and  yellow  sicluiess  of  the  lisklse 


1849.]       Roskm's  Seven  Lampe  <tf  AnAiUctare.  517 

marble  —  diBgaises  all,  observe;  falseboods  all — who  are  thej 
who  like  these  things  ?  who  defend  them  ?  who  do  them  ?  I  have 
never  spoken  to  any  one  who  did  like  them,  thou^  to  many  who 
thought  them  matters  of  no  consequence." 

The  above  may  serve  as  sufficient  specimens  of  the  general 
yiews,  but  ttie  reader  of  the  *^  Modem  Painters  "  will  readily 
conceive  (though  the  <*  Lamps  "  are  much  less  rich  in  such) 
how  many  admirable  bits  of  special  criticism,  and  how  many 
pictures  by  the  wayside,  are  scattered  through  the  pages.  As 
this: 

^  There  is  no  subject  of  street  ornament  so  wisely  chosen  as  a 
fountain,  where  it  is  a  fountain  of  use ;  for  it  is  just  there  that 
perhaps  the  happiest  pause  takes  place  in  the  labor  of  the  day, 
when  the  pitcher  is  rested  on  the  edge  of  it,  and  the  breath  of  the 
bearer  is  drawn  deeply,  and  the  hair  swept  from  the  forehead,  and 
the  uprightness  of  the  form  declined  against  the  marble  ledge,  and 
the  sound  of  the  kind  word  or  light  laugh  mixes  with  the  trickle 
of  the  falling  water,  heard  shriller  and  shriller  as  the  pitcher  fills.** 

To  select,  further,  some  of  the  most  directly  practical  of  hia 
views,  we  may  mention  that  he  attacks  all  machinoKsarving, 
imitation  of  a  material  different  from  that  actually  made  use  of, 
and  in  general  all  work  pretending  to  be  what  it  is  not.  The 
reason  assigned  is  that  it  is  a  violation  of  truth,  in  pretending 
to  more  labor  or  expense  than  has  really  been  ^ven  to  it. 

These  questions  are  wide  ones,  and,  practically  speaking, 
certmly  ms  doctrine  is  on  the  safe  side.  Abuses  of  this  kind 
have  reached  a  most  glaring  pitch ;  have  got,  indeed,  to  bo 
almost  equivalent  to  omamentsJ  architecture.  But  the  ground 
on  which  they  are  to  be  opposed,  Mr.  Ruskm  does  not  make 
very  clear.  As  to  the  mere  moral  question ;  Art,  as  we  have 
sitid,  has  nothing  to  do  with  Mcnrals.  As  to  the  mere  quantity 
of  labor  or  expense,  this  also  is  a  matter  of  indififorence.  In- 
deed, has  he  not  himself  taught  us,  (^Modern  Pamtere^  Vol.  I.« 
ch.  2,)  that,  other  things  being  equal,  rapidity,  slightness,  and 
apparent  inadequacy  of  the  means  to  the  effect,  are  prefera- 
ble ?  The  truth  is,  the  value  of  a  work  of  art  consisto  in  its 
bemg  the  expression  of  humui  feeling  and  thought ;  but  in 
machine-work  the  execution  is  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
thou^t,  hence  the  diminished  value. 

As  to  imitations,  the  ground  of  objection  is  that  the  material 
is  not  fit  for  the  work;  not  merely  apparently  inadequate,  (this 
it  may  not  be,)  but  really  so.    If  the  inadequacy  is  anljf  ap- 


518  Boskin's  Seven  Lampn  of  ArckUeeture.        [Sept. 

parent,  it  becomes  a  source  of  pleasure ;  as,  for  instance,  in  the 
slender  shafls  and  slight  vaulting  of  Grothic  architecture,  irhich 
is  delightful  when,  either  by  science  or  by  tradition,  we  are 
assured  of  its  strength,  but  otherwise  would  be  offensive. 

The  omission  of  ornament  where  it  is  not  to  be  seen,  the 
counterfeit  splendor  of  the  freestone  front  and  the  beggarly 
nakedness  of  the  rear,  is  such  a  gross,  and  at  the  same  time 
80  common  an  offence  against  correct  taste,  that  we  should  be 
glad,  if  our  space  permitted,  to  copy  some  of  our  author's  re- 
marks on  this  point.  He  very  judiciously  allows  the  discon- 
tinuance of  ornament  where  it  could  by  no  possibility  be  seen; 
but  will  have  this  done  openly,  and  only  in  clear  cases.  It  is 
desitructive  to  Art  to  have  it  degraded  to  mere  appearance : 
on  the  other  hand,  the  desert  flower  that  blooms  unseen  is  no 
rule  to  Art,  which  is  elevated  above  the  accidentabess  and 
waste  of  Nature. 

The  ^^  Lamp  of  Beauty  "  might  have  been  expected  to  shed 
some  light  on  the  question  somewhat  vexed  among  the  readers 
of  the  "Modem  Painters,"  whether  or  not  Mr.  Ruskin  intend- 
ed to  hold  up  the  imitation  of  Nature  as  the  standard  of  Art* 
For  ourselves,  our  opinion  was  very  clear  that  he  had  no  such 
ihou^t,  and  we  were  much  surprised  to  read  here,  (p.  58,) 
that  "whatever  in  architecture  is  Mr  and  beautiful  is  imitated 
from  natural  forms,"  and  (p.  86)  "  forms  which  are  not  taken 
from  natural  objects  must  be  ugly."  Now,  whatever  opinions 
have  been  entertained  in  this  respect  as  to  Paintmg  and 
Sculpture,  such  assertions  as  to  Architecture  are  to  us,  at 
least,  both  new  and  strange,  since  this  alone  of  the  plastic 
arts  has  no  prototype  in  Nature.  In  decoration^  no  doubt, 
jnuch  is  suggested  by  natural  objects,  but  even  here  hnitation 
IS  generally  avoided,  except  in  barbarous  or  debased  styles. 
We  still  prefer  to  hold  this  as  a  slip  of  the  pen  or  the  fimcy, 
and  remember  rather  his  former  statement,  (^Modern  Paintere^ 
I.,  24,)  that  "  ideas  of  truth  are  the  foundation,  and  ideas  of 
imitation  the  destruction  of  all  art."  If  the  beautiful  be  the 
imitated,  then  whatever  is  imitated  must  be  beautiful. 

Neither  is  Mr.  Ruskin  more  happy  in  his  definition  of  the 
Picturesque  as  distingmshed  from  the  Beautiful.  He  calls  it 
(p.  156)  Parasitical  Snilimity.  But,  to  make  use  of  his 
own  question  on  occasion  of  another  definition,  we  should  be 
"  curious  to  trace  the  steps  of  any  reasoning  which,  on  such  a 
theory,  should  account  for  the  picturesqueness  of  an  ass  colt 
as  opposed  to  a  horse  foal,"  or,  indeed,  should  account  for  it  at 


1849.]       B,xiB^^B  Sevm  Lan^i  of  ArMtect^e.  519 

all.  Picturesquenesa  we  take  to  be  eimply  the  fitness  of  any 
thing  to  form  part  of  a  picture,  implying  only  the  requisite 
harmony  or  contraat  with  other  objects,  and  not  any  beauty  of 
the  thing  itself  out  of  the  oombbatvon. 

Lost  our  strictures,  from  their  number,  should  seem  to  out- 
weigh our  really  tbankful  commondation  of  the  work  in  general, 
we  pass  over  some  other  matters  that  appear  to  us  open  to 
criticism.  Much  partisan  praise  and  blame  in  matter  archi- 
tectural ;  bigoted  attacks  on  the  Roman  Church  ;  crotchety 
talk  against  raifroads,  (even  wbhes  that  the  men  employed 
on  them  had  been  set  to  building  "Ijeautiful  houses  and 
churches"  instead);  much  conservatism  —  run-mad,  of  aU 
kinds,  we  omit. 

The  pervading  feeling  of  the  whole  work  as  to  the  prospects 
of  Architecture,  (and  it  would  sometimes  seem  as  to  all  other 
prospects)  is  despair ;  an  unwise  feeling,  which  human  nature 
will  sometimes  yield  to,  but  which  no  considerate  man  will  put 
into  print,  since  there  is  never  any  ground  for  it. 

If  there  is  no  chance  for  our  ever  havmg  a  good  architec- 
turo,  we  may  rest  assured  there  is  some  reaaon,  could  we  but 
find  it,  why  it  is  best  so.  In  reply  to  all  complaints  of  the 
"utilitarianism  of  our  age,**  of  the  "  want  of  taste  in  the  peo- 
ple," &c*,  &c*,  we  say,  that  first  of  all,  such  complaints  are 
presumably  in  the  wrong*  All  criticism  of  general  and  de- 
cided tendencies,  of  whole  nations,  will  be  found  in  all  experi- 
ence to  have  been  fallacious ;  right,  perhaps,  in  what  it  saw^ 
erring  from  not  seeing  the  compensation  that  kept  the  account 
square.  Right  in  this  case,  for  instance,  in  seeing  the  degenr 
eracy  of  Architecture,  as  a  fact,  but  wrong  from  not  seeing 
what  this  fact  proves.  For  lot>king  at  things  in  the  large,  the 
features  we  discern  are  necessary  ones,  and  carved  by  lU© 
finger  of  Fate,  Perhaps  in  the  fulness  of  time  it  will  be 
discerned  that  this  building  of  railroatis  and  mills  was  the  thing 
most  wanted  in  the  building  line  just  at  present,  and  that  the 
ends  attained  by  the  noble  architecture  of  antiquity  are  now 
attained  in  some  other  way*  If  we  look  at  Mr*  Ruskin^a 
requisites  we  shall  see  that  the  feeling  by  which  he  demands 
the  artist  shall  be  |>ossessed  is  nothing  more  or  less  than  — 
Eotigion.  His  demand,  then,  is  that  we  shall  be  religious,  and 
moreover,  that  we  shall  express  our  religion  in  the  form  of 
religious  architecture*  But  wo  have  better  ways  of  expressing 
it.  In  the  days  of  the  grand  architecture  it  was  the  best  way 
or  one  of  the  best  ways  ^  it  is  &ot  m  nowi 


520  Short  Bmewi  and  N^deeB.  [Sept. 

To  enlarge  apcm  this  to{»c,  however,  would  lead  ub  too  far. 
But  thus  mach  we  may  confidently  assert,  that  granting  that 
Architecture,  as  a  Pine  Art,  holds  at  present  a  suboi^inate 
position,  it  is  the  part  of  no  fHend  to  Art  to  waste  his  strengdi 
in  the  hope  of  helping  it  up.  For  Art  swims  only  with  tiiei^ 
current,  and  when  the  days  of  criticism  come,  and  the  edu- 
cated and  cultivated  have  possession  of  it,  it  is  already  dead 
and  gone.  Like  Bentham,  it  bequeathes  its  body  to  the  doc- 
tors. Our  part  clearly  is  to  take  what  is  given  us  with  ihank- 
fiihiess  and  peace,  and  not  be  anxious  to  tinker  at  the  order  of 
the  universe.  If  there  be  any  thing  more  foolish  than  mourn- 
ing over  what  is  dead,  it  is  the  attempt  to  revive  it. 

The  present  edition  seems  to  be  a  fiuthful  reprint  of  the 
ikiglish  ;  the  plates  are  facsimiles,  with  no  appreciable  differ- 
ence in  the  execution.  The  mosaic  copied  on  the  cover  (note 
14)  is  omitted,  and  its  place  supplied  by  a  Gothic  window. 
Excepting  this,  we  prefer  the  American  edition,  from  its  more 
convenient  size  and  price,  to  the  English. 


Art.  Vm.  — short  REVIEWS  AND  NOTICES. 

1.  —  Memoirs  of  Rev.  Joseph  Buckminster,  D.  D.,  and  of  his 
Son,  Rev,  Joseph  Steams  Buckminster.  By  Eliza  Buck- 
MiNSTEB  Lee.    Boston.    1849.    12mo.    pp.  xu.  and  486. 

It  has  been  with  feelings  of  no  ordinary  interest  and  delist 
that  we  have  lingered  about  this  charming  work,  *^  a  graceful 
monument  builded  by  genuine  affection  to  the  cherished  memory 
of  a  father  and  a  brother.  It  was  well  for  the  ancients  to  rear 
over  the  mortal  remains  of  those  they  had  loved  and  lost,  the 
magnificent  mausoleum,  and  by  sculptured  stone  and  marble 
beauty  to  express  their  sorrow  and  love  for  the  departed ;  it  was 
fitting  for  them  thus  to  mourn  for  wliat  they  regarded  as  the 
cheerless  repose  of  unwilling  exiles  from  the  face  of  Earth ;  the 
fixed,  dead,  unproductive  stone,  inexorable  as  the  Fates,  seemed 
in  unison  with  the  voice  that  sounded  in  their  unconsoled  hearts 
from  the  life  beyond  the  grave.  But  a  deeper  insight  into  the 
meaning  of  Life,  and  a  more  joyous  trust  in  our  own  immortal 
destiny  and  a  Father's  care,  render  unsuitable  for  us  what  was 
appropriate  to  the  younger  days  of  the  world ;  the  existence  which 
has  been  dignified  by  usefulness  and  holiness  and  all  sweet  affeo- 


1849.]  ShoH  BeinewB  and  Notieei.  621 

tion^,  closes  not  at  all  for  others,  more  tlian  for  tintlt  when  the 
fleshly  garment^  1  trough  iivbich  it  e:xpressed  its  artfviij  to  the  ey©i 
is  laid  beatath  ihe  sod.  Some  congenial  heart,  gatbering  wilh 
pious  ijare  and  appredating  dehca*?^  ihe  Bcatt^rt*d  memonak  of 
word  and  deed^  which,  all  along  its  daily  path,  have  beeu  sbed 
from  the  inner  life  of  the  beloved  one,  and  preserving  tb<;ra  in  a 
fiitople  raeinoHal-urnT  preserves  for  ns  ihe  refreshing  fragrance  of 
those  well -spent  days*  Thej^  the  seemingly  departed,  are  slill 
here,  giving  words  of  cheer  and  strength  to  those  whose  feet  ars 
yet  soiled  with  the  dust  of  every-day  dtities. 

We  cordially  thank  the  authoress  who,  with  so  much  delicacy, 
taste,  and  acute  perception  of  beauty  in  sentiment,  has  placed 
before  us  the  united  lives  of  father  and  son.  The  whole  book 
breathes  of  home ;  the  domestic  affections,  and  interests,  anxieties, 
care^,  and  enjoyments  are  sketched  wilh  finest  touclies  ^  we  feel 
welcomed  to  the  midst  of  them;  we  sit  in  "the  little  paHor**; 
mark  the  father's  anxiety  for  tbe  best  welfare  of  his  children  ;  and, 
in  the  hearty  purity  and  piety  which  have  made  the  name  of 
Joseph  Stevens  Buck  mi  aster  sacred  to  so  large  a  circ'let  we  see 
the  effect  of  that  early  religious .  environment  Natumlly  gifted 
with  religious  tendencies,  the  heart  of  the  young  boy  was  slill 
furthered  by  that  blessing  in  disguise  which  is  u>; unity  spoken  of 
as  unmitigated  evil  —  the  removal  of  a  lovely  and  pious  mother 
by  death.  Her  gentle  care,  her  unwearied  patience,  may  be 
missed  in  the  supply  of  physical  wan  Li,  tbe  indulgence  of  inno- 
cent, childish  whims  ;  but  such  a  mother  is  buried  from  such  a 
son  to  rise  an  angel  in  his  heart  of  hearts ;  her  eontintial  prescnco 
there  etimulatei  to  exertion,  strengthens  in  temptation,  whi^pera 
peace  in  the  little  sorrows  wbich  come  to  all  children^  awakens  ia 
the  young  soul  ideas  of  spiritual  communion,  and  helps  to  make  a 
home-reality  of  that  Kterual  Life  which  is  to-day  and  here,  and 
will  be  for  ever. 

To  the  influence  of  these  associations  in  the  home  of  bis  child- 
hood, garnered  there  for  bb  manhood's  use,  we  should  attribute 
much  of  that  power  wldeh  bis  beautiful  life  has  bad  in  the  com- 
1^ unity.  We  look  in  vain  in  the  volumes  of  bis  sermons  for  any 
thing  to  oonSrm  the  high  estimation  in  which  his  preaching  was 
held  ;  we  feel  thut  the  man  was  far  greater  than  all  his  written 
word^,  and  that  the  Troth  and  Beauty  and  Love,  with  which  hit 
great  heart  was  overflowing,  found  their  utterance  so  completely, 
so  eflectuttUy,  in  eountenancef  gesture,  tone*  and  the  whole  de- 
meanour, tlmt  the  words  in  which  these  realities  were  embodied 
were  of  secondary  importance,  —  proving  how  much  more  men 
are  aiTected  by  real  eharaeter  thajQ  by  ^ne  actions  or  ebqutstit 
wordd* 

Tbe  l>ook  is  preeminently  of  New  England,  The  letters  from 
the  fsther^  mi  rarious  little  inddenta  icatter^d  tbntughout}  s{)eak 


522  Short  Reviews  and  NotieeB.  [Sept- 

as  distinctly  of  the  domestic  habits,  the  moral  atmosphere,  the 
general  tone  of  feeling  amid  which  her  hardy  sons  have  been 
nurtured,  as  her  pine  groves  and  the  glowing  beauty  of  her 
autumnal  scenery  tell  of  the  sterility  of  her  soil,  and  the  sudden 
chilling  frosts  of  her  variable  air.  ^  Take  care  of  your  clothes, 
your  health,  your  morals,  your  soul,**  says  the  excellent  father,  at 
the  close  of  an  affectionate  letter  to  the  young  Cambridge  stu- 
dent ;  and  the  good  man's  economical  injunctions  were  not  lost  on 
*'  the  diligent  boy,  who,  when  he  had  saved  all  his  pod^et-money 
to  buy  a  new  pair  of  boots,  finding  it  insufficient,  was  forced  to 
have  his  old  ones  patched.**  This  reminds  us  of  the  difficulties 
and  trials  through  which  many  noble  spirits  among  us,  conscious 
of  powers  which  would  not  sleep,  yet  cramped  within  the  iron 
bands  of  poverty,  have  acquired  for  themselves,  by  unfaltering 
exertion  and  the  indomitable  energy  of  New  £ngland  enterprise, 
a  station  of  distinguished  usefulness. 

The  stem  conflict,  too,  in  the  father's  soul,  when  he  finds  the 
religious  faith  of  his  dear  children  differing  from  his  own  standard 
in  what  he  believed  most  essential,  has  been  the  unwritten  story 
of  many  a  New  England  home.  To  our  Puritan  fathers  we  can 
look  back  with  profound  respect,  for  the  elevated  tone  of  morality 
and  the  spirit  of  piety  which  istill  characterize  their  descendants ; 
bbt  the  stem  and  dark  theology  which  narrowed  their  hearts, 
chilling  the  warm  flow  of  the  flections,  is  still  too  visible  among 
us  in  its  baneful  effects  to  be  looked  upon  without  aversion.  We 
are  grieved  for  the  affectionate  parent,  who  could  not  see  in  his 
darling  and  admired  son  the  evidences  of  a  Christian  character, 
because  the  technical  terms  of  their  intellectual  belief  differed ; 
they  were  treading  so  conscientiously  and  eamestly  the  same 
pathway  of  light,  and  yet  an  imaginary  barrier  separated  his  child 
Arom  him.  The  correspondence  which  passed  between  them,  when 
Joseph  was  preparing  for  the  ministry,  attests  the  lovingness  of 
the  father's  heart  and  the  unloveliness  of  his  theology. 

There  are  many  pleasing  sketches  of  persons  and  events  scat- 
tered through  the  book.  We  close  this  imperfect  notice  by  extract- 
ing a  little  gem,  whose  simple  beauty  will  tempt  the  reader  to  look 
for  more  in  the  book  itself. 

**  They  dwelt  in  a  small,  plain  hoase,  one  little  parlor  of  ten  feet  sooare  con- 
tiuniog  all  that  was  requisite  for  their  comforL  The  deacon  himself  tended  a 
Uttle  shop  in  front  of  the  parlor,  filled  with  needles,  pins,  tapes,  qnalitj  binding, 
snoff,  -~that  most  common  luxury -*  with  a  pair  or  scales  to  weigh  a  coppeA 
worth.  The  deacon  always  wore  a  full  suit  of  very  light  drab  broadcloth,  with 
white  cotton  stockings  and  silver  knee-buckles,  and  a  full-bottomed  white 
horsehair  wig,  always  powdered.  His  exquisitely  plaited  cambric  ruffles  were 
turned  back,  while  be  was  in  the  shop,  under  white  linen  sleeres  or  cuffs,  and  a 
white  linen  apron  preserved  the  purity  of  the  fine  drab  broadcloth.  His  soli- 
tary mate  sat  in  the  little  three-cornered  parlor,  whose  fire-place  was  an  after- 
thought, and  built  into  Uie  comer,  the  bncks  forming  successive  little  shelves, 
where  various  small  things  could  be  kept  warm.    There  she  sat  all  day  at  her 


1849.]  Shvrt  Reviews  and  NoUees.  523 

round  table  with  needle- work,  driesscd  in  an  old- fashioned  brocade,  vrith  lui 
exquisite  lawn  handken^hief  foldi^d  over  it ;  ond  i?nvifoni>d  with  a  scru^tilotui 
neiitna4<T  whci^  the  litter  of  children'?  spnrti  nevtir  came.  In  the  stoical 
d^aJdho^id  of  tlio  writer,  U  was  a  blct^eci  recrcntion  to  bo  permitted  to  go  nnd 
driok  tea  with  the  old-l^htoned  piur.  The  visit^ir  sat  upon  the  imir  thnc  citnia 
down  into  tlte  room,  and  o!jscrved  th©  prtMx*5  of  unikiug  icA,  whtti  the  bright 
copp(^^  kettle  was  placed  beforfr  the  tire,  luid  ilic  wnitcr  with  ^mall  uhina  ctiptf 
took  ihe  place  of  the  work-baakct  upon  thti  round  tuble.  Thi^re,  nit  tht'  eveinnj^ 
ahftdes  gruthercd  in  thctr  little  room^  and  the  tea  kettle  sang  I  odder  and  louder, 
the  matti  of  ihis  solllaiy  ne^t  eame  in  from  the  lihop.  HtB  while  m^  waff  * 
exchanged  for  a  Hnen  cap^  the  cafft  and  tfua  apron  laia  aside,  and  the  latcbet 
of  the  silrer  thoc^bncklea  unloosed,  hut  not  taken  out.  His  place  vq&  a£ 
another  small  table,  where  were  writtni;  materials  atid  the  ledger  of  Uio  Uttlo 
e«tahlishfnenL 

"It  was  tiio  pf?>ud  office  of  the  childiJ^h  Tisilor  to  tie  permitted  to  carry  lh« 
Smoking  cnp  of  tea  ncroa!)  the  few  gileps  thai  divided  die  tables,  withont  flpillinjf 
A  drop,  more  than  rewarded  hj  the  benignant  smile,  ihc  conrteooft  poHtencfiA  of 
the  old  gentleman,  Yea^  although  he  sold  snuiF  by  the  copper's  worth  he  waf 
A  tme  paladin,  chiFalrons  to  his  com panion, whom  i>e  always  called,  'My  love,' 
while  shij  addrofiied  hi  in  hy  the  placid  title  of  '  Nei^:hborT,^  obeying,  no  doubt, 
the  injunction  of  Scripture,  to  love  her  ntighttor  as  herself. 

-'  Tn  this  frugal,  nniform,  sednded  manner  they  poised  the  eyening  of  a  lifo 
that  had  once  been  more  eventful,  and  with  greater  means  of  expense  ;  and  in 
rotnimnf^  the  eo*tumeof  lietterdays,  nn^uitcd  to  the  business  of  the  Bmall  ahopj 
they  retained  what  eondueed  lo  (heir  own  una.4»nmin|^  sclf^rpspcct.  TIm^  old 
Udy  aiwaje  foldtnl  h^jr  work,  and  eJoaed  her  evenings  in  tbo  wordi  of  Dr*  Watt*; 

And  flnUQTJFJi.  pal  J  ti>  fellcw-wt^rnut ; 

Thek  f^iiv«rf«Mon  eloji. 
Thdr  vxtia  iuiouni  utd  empty  itudf 

But  I  emu  J^f  V0T  tUl¥i«  4;0{!Ugll 

Of  til  J  dnvu"  company." 

In  tnj  ehildish  slmplidty  it  fleemcd  a  IjeaQtiful  comnliment  1o  her  companion  j 
btit  a.i  I  now  undcmiana  ita  stgnMcance,  il  ieems  almost  a  parody  upon  tljeir 
quiet  life,'' 


2. —  Fbpuiar  0instianity;  its  'Df^ansition  State,  and  prohabh 
Development*  Bj  FHED£ttici£  J.  F^jxtOn,  A*  B-^  fonuerl/ 
of  Pembroke  Callege*  Oxford,  and  pi^rpeLual  curate  of  St  oka 
Priorj  and  Docklow,  Herefordshire.  **  Non  Deos  vulgi  neg^ire 
profanura  ;  eed  vulgi  opiniones  Diis  applicJire  profanum."  — 
EricuEU^.     LoKiilon^     1840«     12mo.    pp.  xii.  and  226. 

Hkre  ti  another  book  from  a  Fellow  of  Oxford*  which  Bhowa 
ft  tendency  of  thought  in  earnest  men  quite  cotiuter  to  the  common 
theology  of  the  day.  The  autbor  treats  of  the  Condition  of  the 
Churches ;  Inspiratioti  of  the  Scriptures ;  Miracles  and  Prophecy ; 
the  Divinity  of  Christ  \  Doctrines  and  Artielea ;  Prospects  and 
CoDclusion.  1 1  is  not  a  profound  book,  the  atitbor  seldom  going 
down  to  first  principles,  nor  yet  a  learned  one ;  but  il  is  eame&t| 
liberal^  tolerant.    Mr.  Foxton  otieu  takea  tliiiiga  at  second  hand. 


624  Short  Reviews  and  Ifotieei. 

but  he  generally  takes  good  thiiigB.    He  thas  speaks  of  the  con- 
dition of  the  churches. 

"  The  dry  bones  of  all  churches  are  beginninff  to  stir;  and  (like  dead  bodies 
under  the  stroke  of  a  galvanic  batleryj  even  ue  most  obsolete  and  saperan- 
nnated  saperstitions  recdre  a  momentary  and  spasmodic  yitality  from  tlie 
shock  of  controversial  excitement.  *  From  the  anaent  heart  of  Christendom, 
from  Rome  herself,  a  faint  palsation  is  still  felt  through  the  decaying  members, 
and  a  lingering  hope  seems  to  be  entertained  that  *new  wine'  may  be  put  into 
*  old  bottles.*" 

"  A  rationalizing  spirit  has  penetrated  into  the  very  sanctuary  of  fanatidsm, 
and  bigotry  itself  is  seeking  for  the  practical  and  essential  in  religion,  regard- 
less of  external  forms,  and  the  strictness  of  a  doctrinal  terminology.'* 

**A  few^ears  ago,  the  common  room  at  Oriel  was  the  constant  scene  of 
those  gladiatorial  displays  of  intellect  which  the  libersl  Protestantism  of  the 
age  has  introduced  into  the  arena  of  theological  discussion.  Amongst  the 
most  distinguished  of  the  combatants  were  Blanco  White,  Newman,  Arnold, 
Whateley,  and  Hampden,  men  admitted  even  by  their  adversaries  to  have  pos- 
sessed considerable  learning,  unblemished  character,  and  religious  sincerity. 
The  dust  of  the  amphitheatre  has  now  cleared  away,  and  aAer  the  lapse  of  a 
few  years  let  us  again  observe  the  position  of  the  combatants.  The  simple- 
minded,  sensitive,  and  honest  Blanco  White,  after  having  snccesdvely  attaoied 
himself,  after  his  secession  from  Romanism,  to  Uie  liberal  Church  party,  to  the 
Evangelicals,  and  to  the  Unitarians,  at  length  died  in  the  profession  of  what 
the  world  calls  Deism.  The  devout  and  reverential  Newman,  after  a  long  and 
painful  struggle,  being  unable  to  find  a  restin^plaoe  for  the  sole  of  his  feet, 
within  the  pale  of  his  Church,  in  primitive  sunplidty  of  heart  commences, 
staff  in  hand,  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome  I " 

"  The  language  of  our  forms  no  longer  describes  the  actual  feeling  and 
wants  of  the  worshippers,  except  in  the  expression  of  those  general  sentiments 
of  natural  religion  which  aro  common  to  all  times,  and  its  hold  on  the  affec- 
tions of  the  people  (if  hold  it  has)  is  founded  on  a  sicklv  sentiment  for  antioni- 
ty  alone.  It  is  thus,  by  for  ever  looking  back,  that  the  Church  neglects  ner 
office  as  leader  of  Christian  civilisation,  and  allows  the  world  to  outgrow  her 
ordinances,  and  neglect  her  instructions.  To  the  best  and  purest  of  her  minis- 
ters, her  cumbrous  and  antiquated  machinery  is  daily  becoming  more  and  more 
an  incumbrance  and  a  snare,  and  die  brightest  ornaments  of  her  communion 
are  those  who  virtuallv  renounce  their  allegiance  to  her  laws. 

**  The  honest  defenders  of  the  spirituality  of  the  Church  amongst  her  dmy 
are  simply  called  upon  openly  to  profess  what  so  many  of  Oiem  secreu^ 
believe.  Let  no  honest  preiacher  any  longer  continue  to  teach  what  he  believes 
to  be  unreal  and  untrue,  even  though  it  may  be  consecrated  by  the  formularies 
of  the  Church.  Let  the  people,  at  least,  be  freed  from  the  burden  of  rites  and 
ceremonies  no  longer  significant,  or  which  have  a  positive  tendency  to  divert 
their  minds  from  the  spiritual  objects  of  their  faith.  Let  them  no  loiter  be 
taught  that  the  iniposition  of  hands  can  convey  the  gifk  of  the  Holy  Ghost ; 
that  the  water  in  Baptism  can  wash  away  our  sins,  or  that  the  Eucharist  is 
more  than  a  commemorative  rite.  The  abrogation  of  rites  and  ceremonies, 
confessedly  obsolete  or  actually  pernicious,  would  be  at  least  a  step  towards  a 
more  earnest  and  genuine  belief/* 

He  thus  speaks  of  Inspiration. 

''In  conclusion,  then,  the  Scriptures  can  only  be  said  to  be  inspired'  in  a 
sense  far  more  restricted  that  what  is  required  to  sustain  the  authority  irikich  is 
given  to  them  by  the  popular  theology.  Many  believers  carry  to  the  account 
of  *  inspiration  *  the  dogmatical  wisdom  of  Solomon,  and  the  poedcal  beauties 
of  Isaiah ;  but  this  is  the  same  '  inspiration  *  which  is  popularly  attributed  to 
the  sublimities  of  Milton  or  Shakspeare,  or  even  to  m  homely  wisdom  of 


1849.]  Short  JReviewB  and  Notices.  625 

Benmmiit  Frai^kUn  ^  for  ^^  Poor  RlchanVs  Almanac  "  abounds  tn  the  pf^^linr 
wv«dom^  at  leaat,  of  the  t>ook  of  Proiftrbs*  Ttie  duily  prayers  of  ihe  CJmrcii 
implon^  for  €V'«rr  imitddtial  ^otil  the  gifts  of  God'^  »}iini.  and  t^htiW  thh  dintve 
paide  be  denied  lo  lli£  beacToIeDl  Howard  or  Elkftlieiii  Fry,  ^bilit  H  is  su|i^Hi»ed 
In  hAve  blesfied  in  an  eapei'iat  mAuner  tfie  bAL-k^lidini^  I'etfr,  or  tbe  itic-r^durotta 
Tbomfui  \  Th«  pow^r  aiuL  ififluencc  of  the  mortem  tune  on  hb  ag^  und  naKon 
eanuoi  be  romfjun^d  whh  ancient  examples,  for  the  mjjturouj  i;rilhqiiiA:ifii  of 
the  EoAt  b  unknown  iu  our  nottbcm  elimnte  aud  bd^anced  dvilizaijou^  It 
■ecin^  exttemely  ppolinbic,  aflcp  ult^  th&i  the  wonb  "  inspire  d,"  **  Holy  Hpjrit," 
"Holy  Qboiit^^^  and  mAD^ixtllWBjnonymiit  wfrc  aciuntly  u^ted  in  the  ScriplurvB 
mnL^i  in  the  ^amc  vaj^tm  NMttM  iti  m<Klern  Utcmtuvc,  where  we  speak  cif  tho 

*  Divine  Diinte^^  the  *  infplfed  8h*kJtpe&rei^  the  '  insi4rjtiion)i  of  genius,*  or  the 

*  spirit  of  toTO  j  ^  and  surolv  w©  cannot  deny  to  the  florid  writers  of  the  East  a 
laiitude  so  freely  indnJ^cd  m  hj  ihoie  of  the  told  und  ]ifl^ionle«a  noitli,'* 

^^  To  the  poor  and  tlHtcraU.-  tnmi  of  the  pr-e^ent  age,  the  Bible,  witti  all  iia 
mysteries  and  miracles,  h  aim  ply  an  objein  of  idolatnouH  rcverenec.  Th« 
my*terioiw  doctrine*  -*  the  reUKit*ns  mctHjihysjci  —  the  profound  critidj^m  and 
subtle  learning  by  which  it  U  overlaid  for  the  educated  render,  aie  eruirtilv  loit 
dpou  tho  iUiterute  believer*  The  vwlgiir  idea  I  ^-onccive  lo  be*  that  Go^  hai 
twic«  itnd  only  twice  actually  iipokcn  to  tnankiril  uin  ir  in  rhe  Hebrew  nnd  once 
in  the  Greek  lati^iigis  ^  these  beinj;  the  rhoscn  Uiii^uesof  tl»e  Divine  Tjiw^ 
giver*  The  varioua  records  that  compo^^.  t^*-  ^,^'  i  (^j  <<  id  time  arc  looked  ujkih 
as  objects  of  devout  adoration,  its  tnurh  n^  i;  tiny  l^ail  actually  fn  lien  down 
from  heiiven^a  childlike  relinnce  on  piii^tly  Eiudiority,  ejitendSnjj  even  to 
triknalution-f  of  traniiilHEiom  the  ^ame  sacred  chnriicier  that  iittached  to  the 
oripnal  reeords.  All  truth  and  ail  wisdotn  —  scieiiiitic  and  moral  —  ^the 
whole  connsel  of  God,*  are  literally  asHomed  to  bt  comprehended  *  in  ihe  wordt 
of  a  book  ]  *  nnd^  though  It  b  true  tbnt  &  moral  meub^  of  ri^bt  and  wron^;  v 
generally  admitted  to  be  an  original  eknierjt  in  bttman  miturv,  yet  the  conceit 
Bipn  h  »o  quulidetl  by  a  pious  mysticism,  and  so  obficnred  bv  tbeulo^ical  diapu- 
tatton.  thiit  the  beliei^er  h  left  hui  liUle  relmnec  on  the  inspimttonii  of  conscience^ 
Tho  doctrines  of  or ijE^inal  sin  and  butrian  infirmjtvurc  ^o  laupht  as  to  tieutraliao 
all  praeticul  de^iendence  on  the  ^  inward  witness.^  When  snth  m  the  condidon 
of  the  reliiHouB  mind^  not  only  of  the  illiterate  vnlgar,  but  of  the  ha.UMn)«tmcted 
laity  of  all  clai^Aes^  it  b  easy  to  account  for  the  fitlH  exbtitig  cr^ulity  on  ihe 
lubjecr  of  mirode^/^ 

His  belief  in  miraeles  is  hard  \y  orthodox. 

"That  a  belief  io  miraculous  agency  should  thuji  exiet  in  tho  iBth  eentary, 
or  CTcn  at  the  present  momentj  h  simply  to  be  referre{l  io  the  autboritotive 
leach  in  12^  of  the  Church  ;  for  there  is  in  reality  no  fuflicieni  reason  for  dcnving 
the  same  mimcnloui  powers  to  the  Bbhops  of  Exeter  or  of  I^ndon,  which 
were  once  freely  eoncedciJ  to  Ju.^tin  Martyr  or  Irt'nw-^un.  U  is  ccriain  that  the 
ignorant  vnlgiu'  beliere  the  miracle!^  of  tbe  Church  solely  on  Iter  own  aurhoritj 
—  they  humbly  receive  ihb  as  they  do  ei?ery  oiher  dot^trine  of  ibeir  faith,  on  that 
authority  alone,  without  exerriain^  or  attempting  to  eiten.'iiie  that  ri^ht  of 
private  judgment  so  boostin^ly  assumed  to  he  the  bad^*  of  the  Prutci»tant, 
Tlie  assumed  nnivcrsmltty  of  the  IJcUef  in  miraclef  amongst  all  ekawcs  of 
Chnstiaus  must  not  he  considered^  therefore^  ax  any  evidence  of  their  reaaoni^ 
blene^s  or  of  their  truth/ ^ 

^^  St*  Patil,  Eio  dottbt^  htsrdt  at  his  conversion,  one  of  those 

*  ASkT  kAgttm  Cfaai  iyllJkbb  mva'i  auoM,* 
*o  delicnti  Ir  imnirincrt  liv  \!itiiin." 

^'A^ivin;;  ^''Jtfi  Jn  ttic:  >  tliii  s  itf  Christianity^  it  will  surely  be  conceded,  is 
more  iLuporinfit  than  ii  l)eli«'t  in  the  raising  of  Lazams,  or  the  po?!M^.1sion  of  the 
iwine  ;  and  if,  by  a  dot  improbable  chajige  in  reU^iou5  opinion^  these  two 
miracles  sbould  bo  abandoned,  aa  so  many  others  bave  been  by  the  advocates 


526  ShoH  BeniewB  md  Notices.  [Sept 

of  the  popular  creed,  how  little  would  it  affect  the  Bpiritoal  otjeets  of  our  fiuth. 
The  grand  dogmas  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul — the  progressiTe  and  hear- 
enly  tendency  of  the  human  spirit  and  its  relation  to  God  —  the  incarnation  of 
God  in  Christ,  our  brieht  example  (considered  by  Ullman  as  the  Tery  essence 
of  Christianity)-— the  oeanty  or  holiness  and  yirtne  the  proper  hi^ipineas  of 
mankind — all  these  heavenly  lessons  would  remain  self-sufficing  and  inde- 
structible, though  every  recorded  miracle  in  the  Gospels,  and  half  ttie  doctrines 
extorted  from  them  by  the  Church,  should  be  proved  to  be  the  ofl&pring  of 
oriental  credulity  and  ecclesiastical  corruption.  Nay,  more,  how  many  thou- 
sands of  human  beings,  in  whose  hearts  tne  love  of  Christ,  and  reverence  for 
his  teaching,  are  warmly  cherished,  but  who  receive  with  sullen  and  stunned 
apprehension  the  miraculous  history  with  whic^  it  is  involved,  would  rejoice  in 
the  emancipation  of  their  understandings  and  the  liberty  of  reason. 

"  It  is,  however,  after  all,  absurd  to  suppose  that  the  miracles  of  the  Scrip- 
tures are  subjects  of  actual  belief,  either  to  the  vulgar  or  the  learned,  and  the 
very  ^revest  of  Christians  are  found  occasionally  to  smile  at  the  ass  of  Balaam 
and  the  voyage  of  Jonah ;  and  even  devout  and  learned  bishops  have  had  their 
joke  at  the  grotesque  superstitions  they  continue  to  inculcate.  These  thing! 
surely  betray  the  absence  of  any  honest,  sincere,  and  earnest  belief  in  the  pop- 
ular creed ;  and,  beyond  all  question,  the  skepticism  of  the  world  is  greatly  on 
the  increase.  I  repeat^  that,  even  amongst  the  vulgar,  the  munacles  of  the  Scrip- 
tures are  not  matters  of  devout  belief  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  that^  long 
before  another  has  passed  over  our  heads,  they  will  hold  no  higher  place  in  the 
public  mind  than  the  spurious  miracles  of  the  Bomish  Church." 

'*  A  belief  in  tmraclt  and  propfucy  is  becoming  daily  less  and  less  necesmy 
as  the  means  of  inculcating  a  fiaith  m  the  invisible  things  of  God,  in  proponioa 
as  the  inner  miracles  of  the  human  heart  and  intellect  are  being  made  known 
by  the  diffusion  of  spiritual  knowledge.  Cretd$  and  confistions  are  almost 
imperceptibly,  but  surely,  losing  their  authority  over  the  minds  of  men  under 
the  expanding  influence  of  intelligence  and  toleration.** 


8.  —  The  War  System,  or  the  Commonweaith  of  Nations :  an 
Address  before  the  Amerioan  Peace  Society,  at  its  anniverBary 
in  Boston,  May  28th,  1849.  By  Charlbs  Sumnbr,  &c,  dbc 
Boston.    1849.    pp.  72. 

This  is  pnident,  timely,  and  eloquent;  the  best  of  Mr.  Sumner's 
orations. 


4  —  Memoir  of  Hiram  WiMngUm.  With  Sekctions  from  his 
Sermons  arid  Correspondence.  Boston.  1849.  I2ma  pp. 
Yi.  and  190. 

This  work  contains  a  brief  and  beautiful  memoir  of  a  very 
earnest  and  worthy  young  man,  who  struggled  with  difficulties  in 
early  life,  became  a  Unitarian  minister,  and  died  at  the  age  of  30. 
The  sermons  are  remarkable  for  directness  and  brevi^. 


1849.]  New  PtilUcatians  Received.  527 


LIST  OF  NEW  PUBLICATIONS  BECEIVED. 

Goetbe'^Lebeo  von  Ylehofif.    Thml  HI.    Loipiic    1849.    lemo,    pp51S. 

Geschi<?ht«  der  Dcntschcn  SpractiQ  von  Jucob  GHmm.  Leip^tg.  IGUS.  S 
Yols.    8yo.    pp^  xtuj.  ami  1036^ 

Zar  iiltesten  V<t[kcr  imd  M^rthcngeschicht^,  Von  F.  Hilzigf  &c,,  &c*  Erstcr 
Band,  Urg^schlehia  nnd  Mj^diolog^ie  des  Philistaer  Lei[^c,  1845,  Sro.  pp, 
XiT^  nnd  318. 

Die  Verfiissnng  defl  Dentachen  Heichs  wio  aio  von  dcr  Nation  At- Vemamm- 
lnng  in  Finn k Fun  beffchloi3^:n  wnrde,  &«.,  dUi*j  nach  den  oflScidlen  anagaben^ 
&c.    Lcipji^.     1849.     8to.     pp.  h%, 

Ursflche  uufl  Gcschichie  d^r  Octoberereigfime  en  Wien,  von  dnem  Augtn^ 
Ecnj^n     L^ipscig.     IS4S.     &vo.     pp.  136. 

Tifjtrm:  ^n^  Dcuttch^n  Mytholoi^ic,  von  Friwlerich  Ponacr*  mil  4  Hflpr^r- 
tafiiln.    Mimrjjcn.     1848.    pp.  vi.  and  406. 

^lytholoj^  und  Symbol ik  der  ChriiUichen  Knn^t  Von  dor  altesten  Zeit 
bis  m*  sef'ttzehnteii  Jftlirhunrleit.  Vein  Ferdinand  Piper.  Profcfisor  dct"  T1kh>I- 
opio  an  der  Urn  vers  iriit  zn  Berlin^  Er^ten  Batidea  erstc  Abtheilunj^i  Wcinmr^ 
IS47,     8vo.    pp,  XLiv.  and  510. 

I^xtcologia  lndo-£uropocnu«  ou  Es^i  Eur  Ia  ScicTjce  dL'jf  IMots  SAnskriti, 
GftM^i  Lntin«f  Fmii^ais,  LttKuiuiietis,  Ru^ac?,  AUeinaTidEiT  ABgluis^  etc^  Piif 
H.  J.  Chavdo,  ^.^  &c.    Paris.     IS*19,     Bvo.    pp.  xvi.  and  4S0. 

Histoire  Critique  des  Inititution^  Judicinires  dc  Ja  Fmnee  do  1780  ^  1848, 
Par  M.  Hiver  anckn  magistrut  avocM  k  UrU-atiB.  Piins.  1^48,  8vo.  pp.  xvi. 
and  640. 

Dante's  Divine  Comwlv-:  the  Inferno.  A  literal  prose  Trnnslatioo.  wUh  the 
t€xt  of  the  orij^ina!  collated  from  ihe  host  cdiiion?t  utid  explanatory  notes.  By 
Jfjhn  A.  Carljlc.  M.  D, 

O  \\m,\\  oltri  poMi  onore  ft  ldnii'« 

Chy  (n'b&b  liittQ  cerv&r  lo  too  Toliim^.  —  In/em^^  I.,.  8S-4. 

New  York.    1&49.    pp.  xixiv.  and  375» 

rrbifi  is  the  iseautiml  work  mentioned  in  VoL  L  of  this  Jonmal,  p-  527.] 

The  Maniae  and  other  Poems.  By  George  Shepherd  Batleigh.  Philadcl* 
phia.     Ifi49.    pp.  Tin.  and  240. 

Foot.priQl,8.    By  R.  11.  Stoddard,  Sue.,  &c.    New  York.    1 B49.    8to.    pp,  43. 

Fint  Nursery  Reading  Bookt  intended  to  tea  eh  the  Alphabet  by  means  of 
Enjrlbih  words,  whose  analysis  shall  give  the  true  *oanda  that  were  origin  lity, 
and  even  now  are  gener?illyi  attached  to  the  characters  in  all  lan^iages.  By 
Elizabeth  P.  PeatKKiy.    Boston.     1849,     Small  4 to,    pp.  tv.  and  48, 

A  Trap  to  mich  a  Sanbeam.  By  the  a^uthor  of  '*  Motmt  Jolliflc,"  ''  A  Merry 
Chrtstmas "  etc.,  etc.    Boston.    1849.     16  mo.    pp.60. 

Memorial  to  the  State  Legisktnrcs  of  the  United  States.  By  John  W.  King, 
Cincinnati.     1849.    8vo.    pp,  15. 

Proceedingfl  of  the  Yearly  Meeting  of  tlie  ConpregntiDmil  Friends,  held  a| 
Waterioo»  N.  Y.,  from  the  4ib  to  the  6  th  of  Sixth -mo  nth,  inclusive,  lJiW9, 
'With  an  appendix.    Anhnm.     1840.    l2ttio.    pp.45. 

Report  of  the  Woman's  Rights  ConventionT  held  at  Seneca  Palli,  N»  Y.^  Jolj 
19th  and  20lh,  1348.     Rochest4?r.     1848.     l6mo-    pp.  12, 

Spiritual  Blindness  and  Social  Disruption :  a  Sermon,  &C|  by  John  Ilainilton 
Thorn,  &c,    Loudon.     1849.     I2mo,    pp.  28. 

The  Eloetropatbic  Guide,  devoted  to  Electricity  aod  its  medical  applieationa^ 
By  Dr,  A  Pflij^,  &4:^  &c,    Boston.     1849.     8vo!     pp.  vtn.  and  158, 

Renew  of  El  I  wood  Fisher*^  Lecture  on  the  North  and  South.  By  Osgood 
MMsr^j-.    CinciimntL     1849.    Svo.     pp.98.     [See  above,  pt.  489,  note.] 

A  SyalcmatJc  Report  of  393  Cases  triifltijd  hydropathicalW  at  Brattieljoro', 
1 843,  &c.  Also,  Causes  and  Hydropathic  Treatment  of  the  dhoJera.  Bj  Drs. 
Wesselhoeft  and  WUUam  Grfta.    New  York.    1349.    &iu    pp,  96, 


628  New  PtAUeations  Received.  [Sq>t 

Addresses  at  the  Inauguration  of  Jared  Sparks,  LL.  D.,  as  President  of 
Harvard  College,  Wedne^aj,  Jane  20,  1849.  Cambridge.  1849.  8to.  pp.60. 

Service-Pipes  for  Water :  an  Investigation  made  at  the  Suggestion  of  the 
Board  of  Consulting  Physidaas  of  Boston.  By  £.  N.  Hoi^ord,  Bumford 
Professor  in  the  Umversity  at  Cambridge,  &C.,  &c.  Cambridge.  1849.  8vo. 
pp.  48. 

Letter  addressed  to  the  Hon.  John  Davis  concerning  the  Censos  of  1850. 
By  Nahum  Capen.    Washington.    1849.    8vo.    pp.  23. 

A  Review  of  the  Causes  and  Consequences  of  the  Mexican  War.  By 
William  Jay.    Fourth  edition.    Boston.    1849.    12mo.    pp.  383. 

A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Merrimack  Rivers.  By  Henry  D.  Tborean. 
Boston.     1849.    12mo.    pp.  413.     [A  Review  of  this  in  the  next  numberj 

The  Bucolics,  Georgics.  and  ^neid  of  Virgil ;  with  English  notes,  a  Life  of 
Yirgil,  and  remarks  upon  Scanning.  By  Edward  Moore,  A.  M.  Boston.  1849. 
12mo.  pp.  lY.  and  551.  {"  The  sole  aun  of  the  Editor,"  he  tells  us,  was  "  to 
ftimish  a  useful  schoolbook.**    He  seems  to  have  succeeded.] 

The  History  of  England,  ftx>m  the  Invasion  of  Julius  Csesar  to  the  Abdica- 
tion of  James  the  Second,  in  1687.  By  David  Hume,  Eso.  A  new  editioo, 
with  the  author's  last  corrections  and  improvements.  To  which  is  prefixed  a 
short  account  of  his  life,  written  by  himself.  Boston.  1849.  i2mo.  Vols.  L 
and  II.    pp.  XXXIX.  and  483. 

[This  is  a  neat  and  beautiful  reprint  of  Hume*s  Histonr.  *  The  whole  is  to 
be  completed  in  six  volumes  of  the  size  of  the  Bostoii  emtion  of  Macanlay's 
History.] 


-^^/ 


„OT  BE]^^J  THE  LAST  OATE  S^     p^^y^