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THE 


NORTH   AMERICAN 


REVIEW. 


VOL,  XXXI. 


BOSTON, 

GRAY  &  BOWBN-141  WASHINGTON  STEEBT. 
1830. 


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fiOBTON, 


Congress  Street  Steam  Power  Press. 


W.   L.   LEWIS|    PmjTTER. 


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CONTENTS 


No.  LXVIII. 


Art.  Page 

I.  JosBPH  II,  OF  Austria 1 

Briefe  von  Joseph  dem  Zweyten,  als  characteris- 
tische  Beitrage  zur  Lebens-und  Staatsgeschichte 
dieses  unvergesslichen  Selbstherrschers.  Bis  jetzt 
ungedruckt. 

11.  Tone  of  British  Criticism 27 

American  Literature.  An  Article  in  the  99th 
Namber  of  the  Edinburgh  Review. 

III.  Asylum  for  the  Blind  66 

An  Act  to  incorporate  the  New-England  Asy- 
lum for  the  Blind.     Approved,  March  2d,  1829. 

rV.  Oerman  Association  of  Naturalists  and  Physi- 
cians    85 

Berichte  uber  die  Versanmilun^  Deutscher  Na- 
turforscher  und  Aerzte  in  Heidelberg,  in  Septem- 
ber, 1829.     Von  F.  Tiedemann  und  L.  Gmelin. 

Rede,  gehalten  bei  der  Eroeffnungder  Versamm- 
lung  Deutscher  Naturforscher  und  Aerzte  in  Ber- 
lin, am  18ten  September,  1823.  Von  Alexander 
von  Humboldt. 

V.  Villemain's  Miscellanies 94 

Melanges  Hiatoriques  et  Litteraires,  par  M.  Vil- 
lemain,  Membre  de  TAcademie  Fran;aise. 

VL  Politics  of  Mexico •    .     .     110 

1.  Manifiesto  del  General  Antonio  Lopez  de 
Santa  Ana  k  sus  conciudadanos. 

2.  Manifiesto  del  Gobernador  del  Estado  de 
Mexico  ciudadano  Lorenzo  de  Zavala. 


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CONTENTS. 

3,  Acta  del  pronunciamiento  de  la  gran  Mexico, 
por  el  restablecimiento  de  la  constitucion  y  las 
leyes. 

VII.  Sunday  Mails 154 

Report  of  the  Committee  of  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives of  the  United  States  on  Post-Offices 
and  Post-Roads,  to  whom  were  referred  the  Memo- 
rials for  and  against  prohibiting  the  Transportation 
of  the  Mails  and  the  Distribution  of  Letters  on 
Sunday. 

Counter-Report  of  the  Minority  of  the  same 
Committee. 

VIII.  Moore's  Life  of  Byron 167 

Letters  and  Journals  of  Lord  Byf  on.  With  No- 
tices of  his  Life.     By  Thomas  Moore. 

IX.  Tales  of  the  North-West 200 

Tales  of  the  North-West,  or  Sketches  of  Indian 
Life  and  Character,  by  a  Resident  beyond  the 
Frontier. 

X.  Stewart's  Moral  Philosophy 213 

Thtf  Philosophy  of  the  Active  and  Moral  Powers 
of  Man.     By  Dugald  Stewart. 

XT.  Griesbach's  New  Testament 267 

The  New  Testament  in  the  Common  Version, 
Conformed  to  Griesbach's  Standard  Greek  Text. 


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CONTENTS 


TSo.    LXIX. 


Art.  Page. 

I.  American  Annual  Register 285 

The  American  Annual  Register  for  the  Years 
1827-8-9,  or  the  Fifty-second  and  Fifty-third 
Years  of  American  Independence. 

11.  Turkey 291 

1.  Fuersten  und  Voelker  ,von  Sued-Europa 
im  Sechszehnten  und  Siebzehnten  Jahrhundert, 
vornehmlich  aus  ungedrueckten  Gesandschafts- 
Berichten.  Von  Leopold  Ranke.  [Princes  and 
Nations  of  the  South  of  Europe  in  the  Sixteenth 
and  Seventeenth  Centuries,  compiled  principally 
from  the  Reports  of  Ambassadors.  By  Leopold 
VON  Ranke.] 

2.  Geschichte  des  Osmanischen  Reiches  aus 
den  Quellen.  Von  Joseph  von  Hammer.  [His- 
tory of  the  Ottoman  Empire,  from  Original 
Sources.     By  Joseph  von  Hammer.] 

3.  Des  Osmanischen  Reichs  Staatsverfassung 
und  Staatsverwaltung  von  Demselben.  [Consti- 
tution and  Administration  of  the  Ottoman  Empire. 
By  the  same.] 

III.  Exhibition  op  Pictures  at  the  Athenjeum  Gal- 

lery     309 

Catalogue  of  the  Pictures  exhibited  at  the 
Fourth  Exhibition  in  the  Gallery  of  the  Boston 
A  then  sum. 

IV.  LowTH's  Hebrew  Poetry 337 

Lectures  on  the  Sacred  Poetry  of  the  Hebrews. 


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CONTENTS. 

By  Robert  Lowth,  D.  D.  Lord  Bishop  of  Lon- 
don. Translated  from  the  original  Latin,  by  G. 
Gregory,  F.  A.  S.  A  New  Edition,  with  Notes, 
by  Calvin  E.  Stow,  A.  M. 

V.  Lawrie  Todd 380 

Lawrie  Todd ;  or.  The  Settlers  in  the  Woods. 
By  John  Galt,  Esq. 

VL  Removal  of  the  Indians       396 

Speeches  on  the  Indian  Bill ;  viz.— of  Messrs. 
Frelinghuysen,  Sprague  and  Robbins,  in  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States ;«  and  of  Messrs. 
Storrs,  Huntington,  Bates,  Everett  and  others,  in 
the  House  of  Representatives,  in  the  Months  of 
April  and  May,  1830. 

VII.  Studies  in  Poetry 442 

Studies  in  Poetry.  Embracing  Notices  of  the 
Lives  and  Writings  of  the  Best  Poets  in  the  Eng- 
lish Language,  a  copious  Selection  of  Elegant 
Extracts,  a  short  Analysis  of  Hebrew  Poetry,  and 
Translations  from  the  Sacred  Poets  :  designed  to 
illustrate  the  Principles  of  Rhetoric,  and  teach 
their  Application  to  Poetry.  By  George  B. 
Cheever. 

VIII.  Hale's  Geography 460 

An  Epitome  of  Universal  Geography,  or  a  De- 
scription of  the  Various  Countries  of  the  Globe, 
with  a  View  of  their  Political  Condition  at  the 
Present  Time.     By  Nathan  Hale. 

IX.  The    Debate    in    the    Senate    of    the    United 

States 462 

Speeches  made  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States,  on  occasion  of  the  Resolution  offered  by 
Mr.  Foot,  on  the  Subject  of  the  Public  Lands, 
during  the  First  Session  of  the  Twenty-first  Con- 
gress. 


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NORTH  AMERICAN  REVIEW. 

No.  LXVIII. 

jmw  SERIES,  jvo.  xun. 


JULY,  1830. 


Abt.  I. — Briefe  van  Joseph  dem  Zweyten,  alt  characteristische 
Beitrage  zur  Lebens^und  Staatsgeachichte  dieses  unvergess' 
lichen  SelbstherrscJiers,     Bis  jetzt  ungedruckt.     Leipzig. 
F.  A.  Brockhaus.     1822. 
Letters  of  Joseph  U.    Now  first  published. 

Mr.  Jefferson,  m  his  letter  on  the  kbgs  of  Europe,  charges 
Joseph  n.  of  Austria  with  insanity.  It  may  be  worth  the 
while  to  give  a  little  time  to  the  consideration  of  the  character 
of  a  ruler,  about  whom  opmions  have  been  so  much  divided. 
The  materials  are  abundant,  and  now- that  the  age  of  revolu- 
tions is  past,  history  may  be  just  to  the  imperial  reformer. 
The  prmce,  for  whom  Mozart  composed  music,  Kaunitz  nego- 
tiated, and  Laudon  won  victories,  occupies  a  prominent  station 
among  the  sovereigns  of  Austria. 

The  contrast  between  monarchies  and  democratic  states  b 
in  nothmg  more  strikmg,  than  in  the  degrees  and  amount  of 
political  abilities,  which  they  respectively  call  mto  action.  Men 
may  dispute,  if  they  will,  whether  liberty  be  the  fostering 
parent  of  the  arts,  and  may  continue  to  raise  questions  respect- 
ing the  influence  of  forms  of  government  on  letters ;  but  the 
turbulent  contests,  the  unsparing  and  unqualified  competition, 
allowed  in  popular  states,  quicken  natural  talents  and  furnish 
every  facility  and  every  inducement  for  their  display.  At 
courts  the  race  is  not  necessarily  to  the  swift ;  ana  men  are 
naturally  turned  aside  fj-om  the  career  of  the  public  service, 
when  no  scope  is  furnished  them  for  the  full  exercise  of  natu- 
ral powers  and  the  manly  sti*uggle  for  honors. 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  1 


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2  Joseph  n.  of  Austria.  [July, 

Hence  it  comes  that  histories  of  republics,  even  of  small  ex- 
tent, and  all  republics  but  our  own  have  been  exceedingly  lim- 
ited m  territory  and  m  population,  are  filled  with  the  names  and 
virtues  of  illustrious  men  5  and  exhibit  an  activity  of  intellectual 
competition,  which  makes  them  brilliant  with  every  kmd  of 
human  distinction.  Greece  itself  was  but  a  small  country,  the 
whole  of  it  not  so  large  as  one  of  the  larger  states  in  our  con- 
federacy 5  yet  in  the  short  period  of  its  ancient  mdependence, 
it  furnished  the  world  with  examples  of  patriotic  worth,  that 
have  remamed  as  the  acknowledged  types  of  civil  greatness. 
La  the  best  days  of  Rome,  the  same  results  were  again  exhib- 
ited. In  later  ages,  the  arts,  the  prosperity,  the  commerce  of 
Italy,  made  it  the  most  opulent  portion  of  Europe,  in  moral 
wealth,  not  less  than  in  its  flourishing  finances,  as  long  as  it  re- 
mained the  most  fi-ee ;  and  the  declme  of  heroism  was  almost 
contemporary  with  the  cessation  of  civil  emulation  and  political 
independence. 

We  are  but  repeating  truths,  which  are  trite  and  undisputed ; 
yet  they  may  still  merit  to  be  repeated  and  explamed.  The 
commonwealth  of  Athens  embraced  in  its  immediate  jurisdic- 
tion the  district  of  Attica  only,  with  one  or  two  small  islands ; 
the  whole  was  not  equal  to  more  than  one  third  of  the  state  of 
Delaware  5  and  its  free  inhabitants,  according  to  the  most  ac- 
curate and  probable  computations,  were  but  about  equal,  nay, 
were  not  quite  equal,  in  number  to  the  present  population  of 
Rhode  Island.  Yet  fi-om  the  days  of  Miltiades  to  the  death  of 
Demosthenes,  what  a  rapid  succession  of  men  of  the  highest 
endowments !  Nor  were  the  talents  of  the  greatest  of  them 
ever  able  to  secure  them  fi-om  rivals.  The  contest  of  parties 
was  fierce ;  yet  when  the  popular  will  had  removed  one  set  of 
men  fi-om  the  public  service,  the  state  never  suffered  in  any  of 
its  mterests;  others  were  always  at  hand  to  command  the 
armies,  to  direct  the  fleets,  to  control  the  commonwealth.  It 
never  will  cease  to  merit  admiration,  that  on  one  little  spot  of 
earth,  there  should  have  lived,  and  almost  contemporarily  with 
each  other,  so  many  men,  in  whom  mankind  continues  to  take 
an  undimmished  mterest.  The  fi:ee  population  of  Athens,  in 
its  days  of  glory,  was  smaller  than  that  of  Boston  5  and  Attica 
itself  is  inferior  in  extent  to  any  one  of  the  larger  counties  of 
our  commonwealth. 

To  pursue  an  analogy  or  a  contrast  between  the  republics  of 
antiquity  and  our  own  confederacy,  would  lead  us  fi*om  our 


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1830.]  Joseph  H  of  Austria.  3 

purpose.  The  comparisons  we  have  made,  were  solely  for 
the  sake  of  calling  to  mind  the  very  small  physical  force  of  the 
countries,  which  gave  birth  to  modem  culture.  But  were  we 
now  to  compare  Greece  with  that  modem  sovereignty,  which 
claims  the  highest  rank,  we  should  find  the  most  surprising 
points  of  difference.  The  imperial  house  of  Austria  has  been 
accustomed  to  take  precedence  of  other  European  sovereigns. 
Yet  in  the  long  line  of  those  who  have  stood  at  its  head,  in  the 
crowds  of  its  servants  in  the  civil  department  and  m  war,  how 
many  are  there  whom  humanity  would  vindicate  as  her  oma- 
ments  ?  How  many  of  them  five  in  the  recollection  of  the 
world  ?  Eugene,  the  brightest  name  in  the  whole  list  of  the 
Austrian  service,  was  a  foreigner ;  his  associates  in  power,  and 
the  emperors  under  whom  he  successively  served,  were  hardly 
distinguished,  except  for  their  rank  and  their  pusillanimity. 
The  history  of  the  repubUcs  of  Europe,  whether  of  Italy  m  the 
middle  ages,  or  of  ancient  Greece,  or  of  Holland,  has  a  charm, 
which  belongs  to  no  part  of  the  annals  of  Austria.  In  the  one 
case,  we  seem  to  be  travellmg  in  a  country  where  nature  has 
assembled,  in  close  proximity,  all  that  she  possesses  of  the 
beautiful  and  the  grand  ;  in  die  other  case,  as  we  descend  the 
stream  of  time,  we  seem  to  be  sailing  down  a  sluggish  current, 
and  are  carried  through  a  wide  but  level  country,  where  hardly 
a  single  cliff  frowns  in  solitary  grandeur,  and  a  brighter  spot  is 
but  seldom  seen  to  intermpt  the  languid  gloom  of  a  barren 
monotony. 

This  view  is  forced  upon  us  by  the  consideration  of  the 
whole  subject.  It  is  pitiable  to  see  the  moral  weakness,  which 
seemed  at  times  in  the  sole  possession  of  the  government  of  the 
Austrian  state ;  the  imbeciUty,  which  lost  Servia  to  Christen- 
dom, and  so  repeatedly  changed  the  sovereignty  of  provinces. 
But  if  we  pass  from  considering  the  merits  of  those,  who  made 
their  way  to  the  cabinet  of  imperial  favor,  and  limit  our  atten- 
tion to  the  talents  of  the  men  who  have  been  on  the  throne,  we 
shall  find  still  less  to  admire.  The  Turks  are  the  only  nation 
of  Europe,  which  can  show  a  long  succession  of  sovereigns  of 
superior  abiUty.  According  to  the  doctrine  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  it 
must  have  been  because  their  sovereigns  did  not  intermarry 
with  royalty  only ;  the  breed  was  crossed  by  the  Uberty  of  the 
seraglio*  But  a  less  remote  reason  may  be  found  in  the  fact, 
that  the  dignity  of  the  sultan  was  in  some  measure  an  elective, 
one }  and  that  the  numerous  family  of  the  reigning  prmce  always 


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4  Joseph  J7.  of  Austria.  [July 

furnished  many  candidates  for  the  succession.  For  the  rest, 
the  sovereigns  of  Christendom,  most  celebrated  for  their  worth, 
would,  with  very  few  exceptions,  have  hardly  raised  themselves 
above  a  private  station.  The  reignmg  princes  of  the  age,  whom 
Mr.  Jefferson  so  unsparingly  censures,  were  considered  as  an 
improvement  on  all  that  had  preceded. 

Of  the  sovereigns  of  Austria,  there  is  perhaps  no  one  whose 
praise  is  more  unanimously  repeated  in  the  states  which  she 
swayed,  with  affectionate  respect,  than  that  of  Maria  Theresa. 
But  that  celebrated  woman  was  superstitious  and  intolerant; 
and  in  other  respects,  in  her  acknowledged  virtues,  resembled 
any  other  matron,  the  fond  mother  of  a  large  and  hopeful* 
family.  She  was  a  faithful  wife,  a  charitable  woman,  and  a 
spirited  regent ;  but  her  administration  will  not  be  clear  without 
bearing  in  miad,  that  she  had  younger  sons  to  provide  for,  and 
daughters  to  establish;  and  her  fevorite  minister  may  have 
owed  a  good  deal  of  his  influence  to  his  zeal  in  assisting  the 
empress  by  all  the  wiles  of  diplomacy  to  marry  her  daughters 
weD,  and  introduce  into  her  family  the  most  powerfid  princes 
and  kings.  It  is  because  she  was  distinguished  for  the  virtues 
of  a  wife  and  a  mother,  that  she  has  been  so  much  extolled  in 
comparison  with  Elizabetli  of  England  and  Catharine  of  Rus- 
sia. If  she  possessed  original  genius,  a  powerful  mmd,  or 
very  extraordinary  talents  of  any  kind,  history  has  failed  to 

? reserve  the  clear  marks  of  them.  Of  the  Austrian  monarchs, 
/harles  V.  is  undoubtedly  the  most  known.  The  panegyrists 
of  royalty,  assigning  to  him  all  kinds  of  distinction,  claim  for 
him  also  the  merit  of  a  wit.  When  at  Brussels  on  some  gala 
day,  the  ladies  of  the  high  Spanish  and  Neapolitan  nobility 
were  disputing  about  precedence  in  entering  a  church,  '  Let 
the  greatest  fool  go  in  first,'  was  the  prompt  reproof  of  impe- 
rial petulance.  When  on  another  occasion  a  captain  in  his 
service,  rather  arrogantly  boasting  of  his  courage,  asserted  that 
he  did  not  know  what  fear  was,  *  Then,'  said  Charles,  *  the 
man  never  snuffed  a  candle  with  his  fingers,  or  he  would  have 
been  afiraid  of  burning  them.'  This  homely  rebuke  is  much 
better  than  the  other ;  and  if  any  one  of  the  sons  of  Hapsburg 
ever  said  a  wittier  thing,  their  faithful  but  rather  prosing  and 
time-serving  Plutarch  has  failed  to  record  it. 

Royalty  itself  is  in  the  eyes  of  its  subjects  so  majestic,  that 

*  She  had  bixteen  children,  ten  of  them  daughtera. 


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1830.]  JoBeph  n.  of  Austria.  6 

moderate  merit,  belonging  to  it,  is  sure  to  be  exammed  through 
a  prism,  and  to  receive  a  size  and  a  coloring,  which  are  unlike 
the  reality.  Does  a  monarch  show  a  little  ability  in  some  one 
department  ?  He  is  immediately  exalted  as  a  prodigy.  Does 
he  gain  some  crude  notions  of  the  benefit  of  free  competition 
b  business,  and  the  nature  of  civil  liberty  ?  The  world  wonders 
where  he  could  have  gained  his  wisdom,  tacitly  acknowledging 
that  the  man  whom  the  laws  predestine  to  be  a  ruler,  is  least 
likely  to  acquire  the  knowledge  necessary  for  his  station.  Does 
he  show  something  of  the  curiosity,  which  b  felt  by  thousands 
of  private  men,  and  arrive  at  some  conclusions,  which  tend  to 
diminish  the  severity  of  hereditary  injustice  ?  There  will  never 
be  wantmg  flatterers  or  dupes,  even  among  those  pretending  to 
be  faithfiil  historians,  to  extol  his  fi*eedom  from  antiquated  pre- 
judice, and  his  sure  sagacity  of  judgment. 

Is  it  wonderful  then,  that  there  have  been  many,  who  have 
exhibited  Joseph  II.  of  Austria  as  a  model  of  political  wisdom 
and  a  genuine  benefactor  of  humanity,  while  others  have  de- 
nounced him  as  a  greedy  despot,  who  assumed  the  mask  of 
philosophy  to  disguise  the  excess  of  his  covetousness,  invaded 
the  sacred  rights  of  his  subjects  under  the  pretext  of  a  ficti- 
tious philanthropy,  and  pleading  a  desire  to  secure  the  liber- 
ties of  his  subjects,  aimed  at  the  consolidation  of  an  unlimited 
authority  ? 

It  cannot  but  be  acceptable,  to  find  that  at  last  a  series  of  his 
private  and  confidential  letters  has  been  printed.  There  was 
already  before  the  public  much  that  the  emperor  had  written  ; 
but  nothing  so  peculiar,  so  bold,  and  so  sincere  as  may  be 
found  in  the  volume,  which  has  led  us  to  the  present  discus- 
sion. The  letters,  here  communicated,  were  never  mtended 
for  the  public  eye.  Hence  they  are  the  more  bteresting  and 
the  better  worth  the  public  attention.  There  b  a  little  mys- 
tery about  the  manner  m  which  they  came  to  be  printed  5  but 
their  authenticity  b  not  questioned. 

We  shall  allow  tlie  Emperor  to  speak  for  himself,  givmg  a 
series  of  extracts  from  letters,  which  extend  from  his  election 
to  the  rank  of  king  of  tlie  Romans  to  the  latter  part  of  his  life. 
Europe  is  still  so  divided  by  parties,  that  there  the  merit  of  any 
individual,  whose  influence  is  connected  nearly  or  remotely 
with  the  French  revolution,  can  hardly  be  justly  appreciated. 
But  in  America  no  interest  can  exist,  except  to  do  justice ;  and 
in  a  coimtry  where  there  is  no  distinction  of  ranks,  and  no  res- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


6  Joseph  n.  cf  Autiria,  [^^f 

pect  o£  persQOS)  it  will  gwe  general  pleasure  iS,  on  removing 
the  qplendid  exterior  of  royaltv,  there  should  be  found  under 
its  cosdy  apparel  the  virtues  oi  a  man. 

To  the  Grand  Chancellor  of  the  Empire^  on  being  elected  King 
of  the  Romans. 

It  is  my  sole  wish,  that  my  abilities  may  be  sufficiently  suited 
to  the  circumstances  and  to  the  dignity  conferred  on  me.  On 
the  uprightness  of  my  character,  the  sincerity  of  my  designs,  and 
my  determination  to  maintain  our  national  freedom,  you  may 
place  implicit  reliance.  »♦♦** 

Frankfort,  April,  1764. 

To  Charles,  Prince  ofBaUhyan. 

My  dear  Prince, — ^We  travelled  in  company  of  the  Grand 
Buke  of  Florence  and  the  two  Arch  Duchesses  Anna  and  Chris- 
tina, to  Inspruck,  to  be  present  at  the  marriage  of  my  brother, 
when  on  the  18Ui,  the  melancholy  catastrophe  occurred;  the 
emperor  was  suddenly  struck  with  apoplexy,  and  expired  in  my 
arms. 

My  dear  Prince,  it  is  beyond  the  ability  of  a  human  being  to 
depict  the  high  degree  of  grief,  the  excess  of  sensations  so  clearly, 
as  the  heart  of  a  son  feels  them  on  losing  his  father,  by  whom^^he 
was  convinced  that  he  was  loved. 

I  am  now  four  and  twenty  years  of  age.  Providence  has  in 
my  early  days  given  me  to  drink  of  the  cup  of  affiction ;  for  I 
lost  my  wife  after  I  had  possessed  her  hardly  three  years.  '  » 
Dear  Eliza !  you  will  never  be  forgotten  by  me — and  since  your 
death  I  have  felt  sorrows  that  cannot  be  expressed.  •••»• 

Inspruck,  August  20,  1765. 

To  one  of  the  Generals  in  the  Imperial  Service, 
General ! — Put  Count  Von  K.  and  Captain  W.  instantly  under 
arrest.  The  Count  is  quick,  young,  proud  of  his  birth,  and  full 
of  false  notions  of  honor.  Captain  W.  is  a  veteran  soldier,  who 
insists  on  setting  every  matter  right  with  sword  and  pistols  ;  and 
who  at  once  treated  the  challenge  of  the  young  Count  with  pas- 
sion. 

I  wish,  and  will  suffer  no  duel  in  my  army ;  I  despise  the  prin- 
ciples of  those  who  defend  the  practice,  who  seek  to  justify  it, 
and  who  shoot  each  other  in  cold  blood. 

When  I  have  officers  who  bravely  expose  themselves  to  every 
danger  from  the  enemy,  who  on  every  occasion  that  arises,  dis- 
play spirit,  courage,  and  decision  in  attack  and  in  defence,  I 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Joseph  JL  of  Auntria.  7 

prize  them  highly ;  the  indiffisrence^  which  at  such  seasons  they 
manifest  for  death,  serves  their  cotmtry  and  advances  their 
honor. 

*^  Bat  shoald  there  be  among  them  men,  who  are  ready  to  saori* 
fiee  every  thing  to  revenge  and  hatred  of  their  enemy,  I  de- 
spise them ;  I  hdid  such  men  to  be  no  better  than  Roman  gk- 
diat(»rs. 

Institute  a  court  martial  on  these  two  officers,  with  the  impar- 
tiality which  I  re<piire  in  every  judge ;  investigate  the  subject  of 
their  content ;  and  let  the  one  who  is  most  to  blame,  be  the  sac- 
rifice of  his  destiny  and  the  laws. 

Such  a  barbarous  custom,  which  is  suited  to  the  age  of  the 
Tamerlanes  and  the  Bajakets,  and  which  has  often  had  such 
melancholy  effects  upon  sin^e  families,  I  will  suppress  and  pun- 
ish, though  it  should  cost  me  the  half  of  my  omcers.  There 
yet  live  men,  who  unite  loyalty  with  heroism;  but  none  can  do 
this  who  do  not  respect  the  lawa  of  the  state. 

August,  1771. 

The  letters  which  follow,  will  illustrate  the  Emperor's  man- 
ner of  thinking  on  the  subject  of  religion,  at  fbe  time  when  his 
mother  was  still  at  the  head  of  afiairs,  and  himself  nominally . 
her  colleague. 

To  the  Duke  de  ChaiseuL 

Sir, — For  your  confidence  I  thank  you.  You  could  count 
upon  my  support  if  I  were  ruler,  and  you  have  my  entire  appro- 
bation in  respect  to  the  Jesuits,  and  the  plan  for  the  abolition  of 
their  order. 

Do  not  reckon  much  on  my  mother ;  the  attachment  to  this 
order  has  become  hereditary  in  the  family  of  Hapsburg.  Cle- 
ment XIV.  himself  has  proofe  of  it. 

Yet  Kaunitz  is  your  friend ;  he  has  unlimited  influence  with 
the  empress ;  he  agrees  with  you  and  the  marquis  of  Pombal  as 
to  their  dissolution ;  and  he  is  a  man  who  leaves  nothing  half 
executed. 

Choiseul !  I  know  these  people  as  well  as  any  one ;  I  know  all 
their  designs,  which  they  have  carried  into  effect,  their  efforts  to 
spread  darkness  over  the  earth,  and  to  govern  Europe  from  Cape 
Finisterre  to  the  North  Sea. 

In  Grermany  they  were  mandarins,  in  France  academicians, 
courtiers,  and  confessors,  in  Spain  and  Portugal  grandees  of  the 
nation,  and  in  Paraguay  kings. 

January,  1770. 


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8  Joseph  n.  of  Austria.  [July* 

To  the  Count  de  Aranda. 

*     *     *     •     • 

An  institution,  which  the  enthusiastic  imagination  of  a  .Span- 
ish  veteran  devised  in  one  of  the  southern  countries  of  Europe, 
which  aimed  at  universal  dominion  over  the  human  mind,  and 
with  this  purpose  strove  to  subject  every  thing  to  the  infallible 
senate  of  the  Lateran,  could  not  but  be  a  wretched  gifl  for  the 
present  race  of  Germans. 

The  synedrium  of  these  Loyolites  made  their  fame,  the  exten- 
sion of  their  greatness,  and  the  darkness  of  the  rest  of  the  world^ 
the  first  object  of  their  plans. 

Their  intolerance  was  the  cause  why  Germany  had  to  endure 
the  misery  of  a  thirty  years'  war.  Their  principles  deprived  the 
Henrys  of  France  of  life  and  crown ;  and  they  were  the  authors 
of  the  edict  of  Nantz. 

The  mighty  influence  which  they  exercised  over  the  princes 
of  the  house  of  Hapsburg,  is  too  well  known.  Ferdinand  II. 
and  Leopold  I.  were  their  protectors  to  the  last  breath  of  their 
lives. 

The  education  of  youth,  literature,  rewards,  the  disposal  of  the 
highest  dignities  in  the  state,  the  ear  of  kings,  and  the  heart  of 
queens,  every  thing  was  entrusted  to  their  wise  direction. 


If  I  were  capable  of  hatred,  I  could  not  but  hate  the  race  of 
men,  who  persecuted  a  Fenelon,  and  who  produced  the  Bulla  in 
coena  Domini, 

Vienna,  July,  1773. 

The  communication  to  Frederic  is  in  a  new  style  of  diplo- 
macy. It  was  occasioned  by  the  war,  into  which  the  aged  hero 
believed  himself  compelled  to  enter,  to  prevent  the  bcorpora- 
tion  of  Bavaria  with  the  hereditary  states  of  Austria.  Hostili- 
ties were  terminated  by  the  peace  of  Teschen,  before  any  very 
brUliant  achievements  on  either  side. 

To  Frederic  11.  King  of  Prussia. 

m     %    m     m     m 

It  seems  to  me  you  bear  it  too  much  in  mind,  that  you  are 
a  successful  general ;  that  you  have  200,000  well  trained  sol- 
diers, and  a  colonel  who  has  written  a  commentary  on  the  work 
of  C(Bsar  de  beUo  GaJUco.  Providence  has  given  as  much  to 
several  other  powers  beside  Prussia.  If  your  majesty  finds  plea^ 
sure  in  leading  200,000  men  to  the  battle  field,  I  will  meet 
you  with  as  many.  Will  you  try  if  you  are  still  a  successful 
general  ?  I  am  ready  to  'satisfy  your  love  of  fighting ;  and  finally, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Joiy^k  H.  of  Au$tria.  9 

as  to  writing  books  on  the  art  of  war,  I  could  name  to  your 
Majesty  a  couple  of  generals  of  mine,  who  have  retired  on  pen- 
sions, tod  who  from  mere  ennui,  are  commenting  on  the  com- 
mentaries of  the  Count  de  Saxe. 

I  hope  to  find  you  on  the  banks  of  the  Elbe ;  and  when  we 
have  battied  it,  ahd  given  Europe  a  comedy  of  obstinacy,  we  will 
sheAthe  the  sword. 

Je  savais  hien  que  vous  itiezfdchi  contre  mot, 

Jaronius,  July,  1778. 

To  one  of  his  Friends* 

•     •     •     •     • 

With  this  view  Teschen  was  fixed  upon  as  the  place  for  the 
Congress.  Upon  this  a  great  number  of  ambassadors  appeared, 
and  with  vast  wisdom  toiled  for  three  whole  months  at  a  peace, 
which  leaves  to  Austria  a  small  portion  of  BavaricE^  that  had  al- 
ready been  acq^uired. 

They  did  not  fail  to  make  the  advantages  of  it  appear  very 
plain  to  the  Empress,  my  mother,  and  to  sIk^w  the  power  of  the 
King  through  a  prism.  Upon  th»  they  saluted  each  other  with  a 
world-  of  compliments ;  and  at  Vienna  sung  and  fired  99,000  Te 
Deums. 

True,  to  spare  tlie  Empress  pain,  I  coiifirmed  the  peace,  and 
^ave  gitiranties.  But  herein  I  can  only  compare  my  conduct 
with  tint  of  Chaiies  V.  in  Africa,  who  returned  to  Spain  with 
bis  fleet  afler  a  diagracefiil  campaign ;  he  too  went  on  board 
ship,  but  he  was  the  last  who  dad  so.     *  •  *  * 

Live  contented  as  a  sage ;  enjoy  the  attractions  of  your  private 
statidn ;  and  above  all  things,  do  not  envy  the  felicity  of  kings. 

ViemML,  May,  1779i 

Thus  far  Joseph  was  but  an  associate  in  power.'  We  shall 
now  see  how  he  writes,  as  autocrat  and  emperor. 

To  the  Duhe  de  Choiseiil, 

*••  The  influence,  which  the  clergy  {M^sessed  during  the  reign 
of  my  mother,  will  be  another  object  of  my  reforms.  I  do  not 
like  to  see,  that  people,  to  whom  the  care  of  the  foture  life  id 
committed,  give  themselves  so  much  trouble,  to  make  our  life 
here  below  an  object  for  their  wisdom.  ****    . 

Vienna,  December,  1700. 

To  the  Archbishop  of  Sabhurg. 

***  The  internal  administration  of  my  states  demands  a  re£>N 
mation  without  delay.  An  empire  which  I  goverp,  mmt  be 
ruled  according  to  my  principles ;    prejudice,  fanaticism,  partial- 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  2 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


10  Jo$eph  n.  of  Austria.-  [July, 

ity,  and  slavery  of  the  mind,  must  be  suppressed,  and  each  of  my 
subjects  put  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  native  liberties. 

The  monastic  life  has  gained  too  much  the  ascendant  in  Aus- 
tria ;  the  number  of  foundations  and  cloisters  has  increased  ex- 
traordinarily.  When  I  have  torn  away  the  veil  from  the  mo- 
nastic life,  when  I  have  banished  the  Arachne's  web  of  ascetic 
doctrines  from  the  lecture-rooms  of  my  universities,  and  trans- 
formed the  mere  contemplative  monk  into  the  active  citizen,  then 
perhaps  some  of  the  party  of  zealots  may  reason  differently  about 
my  reforms. 

I  have  a  hard  task  before  me ;  I  am  to  reduce  the  army  of 
monks,  fashion  men  out  of  fakirs,  before  whose  shaven  head  the 
rabble  reverently  kneels,  and  who  have  gained  a  greater  domin- 
ion over  the  heart  of  the  citizen,  than  any  thing  which  could 
make  an  impression  on  the  human  mind.     Adieu. 

Vienna,  Ftbruary,  1781. 

To  Cardinal  Herzan,  Imperial  Minister  at  Rome. 

My  dear  Cardinal, — Since  I  ascended  the  throne,  and  have 
worn  the  first  diadem  of  the  world,  I  have  made  philosophy  the 
law-giver  of  my  empire. 

In  accordance  with  its  logic,  Austria  will  receive  a  new  form, 
the  importance  of  the  Ulemas  will  be  restrained,  and  the  rights 
of  the  crown  regain  their  dignity.  I  must  remove  from  the 
sphere  of  religion  some  things,  which  never  belonged  there. 

Since  1  despise  superstition  and  the  Sadducees,  I  will  free  my 
people  from  them.  To  this  end  I  will  dismiss  monks,  break  up 
their  cloisters,  and  subject  them  to  the  bishops  of  their  diocese. 

In  Rome  they  will  call  this  an  invasion  of  the  rights  of  God  ; 
I  well  know  they  will  exclaim,  the  glory  of  Israel  is  fallen ;  and 
complain  that  I  take  from  the  people  their  tribunes,  and  draw  a 
dividing  line  between  religion  and  philosophy ;  but  they  will  be 
still  more  angry,  that  I  undertake  all  this  without  asking  leave 
of  the  servant  of  the  servants  of  God. 

To  these  things  we  must  attribute  the  decline  of  the  human 
understanding.  A  servant  of  the  altar  will  not  acknowledge  that 
the  state  does  but  confine  him  to  his  proper  sphere,  in  leaving 
him  no  employment  but  the  gospel,  and  in  preventing  by  law 
the  children  of  Levi  from  possessing  a  monopoly  of  human  rea- 
son. 

The  principles  of  the  monastic  life,  from  the  days  of  Pacho- 
mius  to  our  own,  have  been  diametrically  opposed  to  the  light  of 
reason ;  they  proceed  from  the  esteem  of  their  foundations  to  the 
adoration  of  them ;  and  thus  we  see  revived  in  them  the  Israelites, 
who  went  to  Bethel  to  adore  golden  calves. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Josq^h  n.  of  Austria.  11 

I  will  take  care  that  the  building,  which  I  have  erected  for 
futurity,  shall  be  permanent. 
Vienna,  October,  1781. 

In  the  following  letter  to  Van  Swieten,  Joseph  perhaps  be- 
trays a  passion  to  be  esteemed  in  his  turn  as  an  audior. 

My  dear  Friend, — I  hardly  know  how  some  monarchs  have 
&llen  into  the  folly  of  acquiring  literary  distinction ;  and  seek  a 
sort  of  greatness  in  making  verses,  or  drawing  a  sketch  for  a 
theatre,  to  be  k  pendant  to  the  works  of  Palladio. 

True,  I  perceive  the  obligation  of  kings  to  be  not  wholly  un- 
acquainted in  the  empire  of  science ;  but  I  deem  it  wholly  unne- 
cessary for  a  monarch  to  pass  his  time  in  writing  madrigals. 

The  Margrave  of  Brandenburg  took  the  lead  in  a  royal  sect, 
which  is  occupied  in  writing  memoirs,  poems,  and  essays  on 
various  subjects.  The  Empress  of  Russia  followed  the  fashion, 
read  Voltaire,  and  wrote  poetry ;  Stanislaus  Lesczinsky,  and  the 
King  of  Sweden,  confined  themselves  to  private  letters. 

The  causes  of  all  this  are  as  strange,  as  the  products  of  their 
minds.  The  King  of  Prussia  began  his  academic  employments 
at  Rheinsberg,  where  his  father  exiled  him,  and  where  he  could 
hardly  maintain  a  state  equal  to  that  of  a  colonel  in  my  armies. 
When  he  came  to  be  king,  he  continued  his  learned  occupa- 
tions ;  at  once  a  host  of  French  champions  gathered  round  him, 
and  sung  his  victories  in  Silesia ;  that  is,  the  conquest  of  a  coun- 
try, which  had  two  regiments  of  infantry  for  its  garrison,  and 
which  he  overrun  with  40,000  men.  Afterwards  the  passion  for 
inaking  verses  drove  him  to  establish  a  friendship  with  Voltaire, 
which  was,  however,  interrupted,  renewed,  broken  off,  renewed 
again  and  continued  to  the  death  of  the  watchmaker  of  Ferney. 

The  Empress  of  Russia  undertook  it  from  pride  ;  she  endea- 
vored to  shine  in  every  department  of  fame  ;  the  rest  was  done 
by  time  and  circumstances,  friendship  and  passion,  and  a  portion 
of  vanity  to  boot. 

Stanislaus  was  a  good  sort  of  a  man  ;  he  saw  visions  like  the 
Abbe  de  St.  Pierre,  and  had  it  been  possible,  would  from  his 
Luneville  have  commanded  peace  to  all  the  earth.  His  Majesty 
of  Stockholm  had  other  motives ;  Gustavus  was  treated  in  Paris 
with  great  attention,  and  after  his  return  wrote  such  tender  let- 
ters to  Paris  and  to  the  court  of  Versailles,  that  they  were  com- 
pelled to  pay  him  the  compliment,  that  besides  being  a  king  he 
was  a  very  amiable  private  man. 

Such  are  my  views  on  these  matters.  To  me  neither  the  great 
Grecians,  nor  Romans  are  unknown  ;  I  am  conversant  with  the 
history  of  the  German  empire,  and  with  that  of  my  dominions  in 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


12  Jo9efh  J7.  of  Amtria^  [Jidy, 

a  special  manner ;  but  my  time  has  never  aUowed  me  to  mapu* 
facture  epigrams  or  hammer  out  Vaudevilleck  I  have  read,  to 
gain  instruction ;  I  have  travelled,  to  enlarge  my  knowledge ; 
and  in  giving  assistance  to  men  of  letters,  I  do  them  a  greater 
service  than  if  I  should  employ  them  to  aid  me  in  turning  out 
sonnets  at  a  writing  desk.  Adieu. 
Vienna,  December,  1780. 

Compare  the  instructions  given  by  Napoleon  to  his  brother, 
the  King  of  Holland,  with  the  following  letter,  addressed  by 
Joseph  to  his  youngest  brother,  on  becoming  Elector  of  Cologne. 

You  know  your  duties  perfectly,  my  dear  Prince  !  As  a  Men*> 
tor  I  have  nothing  to  say  ;  but  as  a  friend,  permit  me  to  make 
you  acquainted  with  your  new  dignity. 

As  elector,  you  are  one  of  the  first  princes  of  the  empire.  For- 
get that  the  Emperor  is  your  brother ,  and  that  you  are  a  Prince 
of  my  house ;  sacrifice  yourself  wholly  to  the  country  and  to  your 
people. 

The  letter  to  the  magistrates  of  Buda,  is  too  btoastfiil. 

I  thank  the  magistracy  and  the  citizens  for  the  intended  hon- 
or of  a  statue,  to  be  erected  in  one  of  their  public  squares.  To 
facilitate  the  transaction  of  business,  and  the  better  to  oversee  the 
offices  of  the  kingdom,  I  have  concentrated  them  in  Buda,  and 
the  city  thus  accidentally  acquires  some  advantages  ;  but  for  this 
such  an  honor  is  really  not  merited. 

Yet  when  I  shall  have  made  the  Hungarians  recognise  the 
true  relations  between  King  and  subjects  ;  when  I  shalT  have  re- 
moved all  spiritual  and  all  civil  abuses ;  when  I  shall  have  awak- 
ened activity  and  industry,  made  commerce  flourishing^  and 
provided  the  land  from  one  end  to  the  other  with  roads  and  navi- 
gable canals,  as  I  hope  to  do ;  if  then  the  nation  will  erect  a 
monument  to  my  honor,  I  may  perhaps  have  deserved  and  will 
then  gratefully  accept  it. 

Vienna,  June,  1784. 

Two  letters  will  illustrate  his  views  of  the  rights  of  noble- 
men. 

To  the  Chancellor  of  Hungary. 

The  privileges  and  liberties  of  a  nobility  or  a  nation,  in  all 
countries  and  republics  of  the  world,  consist  not  in  the  right  of 
contributing  nothing  to  the  public  burdens ;  on  the  contrary, 
they  bear  more  than  any  other  class,  as  in  England  and  Holland  ; 
but  those  privileges  consist  solely  in  this,  that  they  may  impose 


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1830«]  Joiep&  n.  of  jSuttria.  13 

911  tbemsefareB  the  boidenB  required  by  the  state  md  the  oommoii 
advantage,  and  by  their  consent  take  the  lead  in  the  inofease  of 
the  taxes.  The  liberty  of  persons  is  carefully  to  be  distinguished 
from  that  of  possessions ;  in  respect  of  which  the  proprietors  rep- 
resent not  the  nobleman,  but  simply  the  cultivator  or  the  grazier, 
and  in  cities  the  citizen  and  consumer,  in  the  highway  and  on 
the  passage,  the  traveller  merely  and  the  passenger ;  m  which 
cases,  ft>r  the  sake  of  preserving  the  free  competition  that  alone 
makes  the  system  useful,,  they  must  be  put  on  an  equal  footing, 
according  to  their  possessions,  with  all  other  citizens  and  inhab- 
itants. 

Vienna,  My,  1786. 

To  a  Lody, 

Madam, — I  do  not  comprehend  the  obligations  of  a  monarch, 
to  give  an  office  to  oho  of  his  subjects  because  he  is  a  nobleman, 
A  man  may  be  the  son  of  a  general,  without  the  least  talents  for 
an  officer ;  a  cavalier  of  good  family,  without  having  any  other 
merits  thaii  that  l^  the  sport  of  fortune  he  has  become  a  noble* 
man. 

1  pity  you,  raadieun,  that  your  son  is  fit  neither  for  an  oflSeer^ 
nor  for  a<  statesman,  nor  fop  a  priest ; — in  shcnrt-,  that  he  is  noth- 
ing but  a  nobleman,  and  that  with  his  whole  soul. 

I  honpQ  jaa9je  impartial  enough  to  see  the  reasons  that  have 
eompelled  me  to  a  decision,  which  will  perhaps  be  disagreeable 
to  yoU)  but  which  I  have  considered  necessary.     Adieu,  madam; 

August  4,  1787. 

We  close  our  extracts  with  two  of  the  letters  in.  which  the 
£mperor  gives  his  owa  character,  and  enters  upon  the:  defence 
of  hiis  administration. 

To  a  Lady. 

Madam, — ^You  know  my  character ;  you  know  that  I  choose 
the  society  of  kdies  only  for  recreation  afler  business ;  and  that 
I  hare  never  sacrificed  my  principles  to  the  fair  sex.  I  listen  to 
their  reoommendations  but  seldom^  and  then  only  when  the  oh* 
iect  of  them  is  a  worthy  man,  who  at  any  rate  would  not  have 
long  remained  unknown  to  me. 

Two  of  your  sons  are  already  estaWished  ;  the  elder,  not  yet 
twenty  years  old,  is  a  captain  of  cavalry  in  my  army  ;  and  the 
younger  receives  of  the  Elector,  my  brother,  a  canonicate  in  Co- 
logne. What  will  you  have  more  ?  Ought  not  the  first  already 
to  be  a  general,  and  the  second  to  have  a  bishoprick  ? 

It  is  a  duty  to  be  upright  at  court,  severe  in  the  field,  stoical 
witfaoat  harshness,  and  magnanimous  without  weakness^  and  by 


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14  Jo$eph  n.  of  Auitria.  [July, 

just  actions  to  win  even  the  esteem  of  enemies ;  such  are  my 
sentiments,  madam. 
Vienna,  1787. 

To  one  of  his  Friends. 

My  Friend, — ^Because  there  have  been  Neros  and  a  Dionysius^ 
who  went  beyond  the  proper  limits  of  their  power  ;  because  there 
have  been  tyrants  who  have  abused  the  force,  which  destiny  put 
into  their  hands,  is  it  therefore  reasonable,  under  the  pretext  of 
anxiety  to  preserve  the  rights  of  a  nation  for  the  future,  that  a 
prince  should  have  all  possible  obstacles  thrown  in  the  way  of 
measures,  which  have  no  other  object,  than  the  welfare  and  ad- 
vantage of  his  subjects? 

Since  the  commencement  of  my  reign,  I  have  at  all  times  en- 
deavored to  conquer  the  prejudices  against  my  rank ;  have  taken 
pains  to  win  the  confidence  of  the  nations  under  my  sway  ;  and 
since  1  ascended  the  throne,  I  have  oflen  given  proofs,  that  the 
welfare  of  my  subjects  is  my  passion  ;  that  to  satisfy  it  I  shun  no 
labors,  no  pains,  and  I  may  add,  no  tormsnts,  and  that  I  care- 
fully consider  the  means,  which  may  bring  me  nearer  to  the  de- 
signs which  1  have  proposed ;  and  nevertheless  in  my  reforms 
I  every  where  meet  with  opposition  from  those,  of  whom  I  had 
least  expected  it. 

As  a  monarch,  I  do  not  deserve  the  distrust  of  my  subjects ;  as 
ruler  of  a  vast  realm,  I  must  have  the  whole  extent  of  my  domin- 
ions before  my  eyes ;  this  I  embrace  at  a  glance,  and  cannot 
always  have  regard  to  the  separate  voices  of « single  provinces, 
which  consider  only  their  own  narrow  circle. 

My  private  good  is  only  a  chimera,  and  while  on  the  one  side 
I  abandon  it  as  a  sacrifice  to  my  country,  I  can  in  return  partici- 
pate in  the  general  welfare  !  But  how  many  are  aware  of  this ! 

If  I  were  unacquainted  with  the  duties  of  my  station,  if  I  were 
not  morally  convinced,  that  I  am  destined  by  Providence  to  bear 
my  diadem  with  all  the  weight  of  obligations,  which  are  imposed 
upon  me  with  it,  disgust  and  discontent  with  my  lot,  and  the  de- 
sire not  to  exist,  would  be  the  sensations,  which  would  force 
themselves  on  my  mind.  But  I  know  my  heart ;  I  am  inwardly 
convinced  of  the  honesty  of  my  intentions,  and  hope  that  when  I 
shall  be  no  more,  posterity  will  more  reasonably,  justly,  and  im- 
partially investigate,  prove,  and  pass  sentence  on  what  I  have 
done  for  my  people. 

Vienna,  October,  1787. 

Having  by  these  copious  citations,  put  the  reader  in  posses- 
sion of  Joseph's  own  views,  we  have  a  little  to  add  on  the  cha- 
racter of  his  administration.    It  was  bis  greatest  faulty  that  he 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Joeeph  J7.  of  Austria.  15 

would  himself  govern ;  that  he  considered  his  own  will  the 
main-spring  of  the  administration,  and  desired  to  find  m  others 
onJy  willing  instruments  to  execute  his  commands. 

The  talent  of  Joseph  for  the  internal  administration  of  his 
states  resulted  from  his  wakeful  curiosity,  his  extensive  acqui- 
sitions, his  untiring  activity,  and  his  earnest  zeal  for  the  prompt 
execution  of  his  schemes.  Nor  can  it  be  denied,  that  he  was 
just,  except  when  justice  would  have  required  the  abandon- 
ment of  a  favorite  plan ;  and  that  he  sincerely  wished  to  de- 
velope  to  the  utmost  the  resources  of  his  hereditary  states. 

He  came  to  the  throne,  determined  to  have  but  one  uniform 
systena  throughout  his  wide  dominions.  He  forgot,  that  a  weak 
mind  is  apt  to  demand  such  a  uniformity,  while  a  strong  under- 
standing knows  where  and  when  to  allow  the  existence  of  dif- 
ferences. In  the  attempt  to  reduce  all  things  to  one  standard, 
to  equalize  all  biurdens,  to  establish  but  one  mode  of  transact- 
ing business  in  states,  as  various  in  language  and  customs  as  in 
hereditary  privileges,  Joseph  was  engaged  in  a  contest  with  the 
prejudices  of  centuries  and  the  rooted  habits  of  his  time.  Irre- 
mediable difficulties  presented  themselves  to  impede  his  scheme. 
The  monarch  grew  impatient  and  wavered.  Throngs  of  re- 
monstrants crowded  round  his  person ;  all  were  freely  admit- 
ted ;  complamts  mcreased  and  were  listened  to ;  and  modifica- 
tions of  his  early  measures  ensued.  These  modifications  could 
but  increase  the  evil ;  and  render  the  uncertainty  greater  than 
before.  The  confusion  grew  worse.  This  excited  the  iras- 
cible prince  to  insist  on  the  execution  of  his  decrees  by  force. 
But  violence  could  not  reach  the  difficulty,  which  lay  in  the 
habits  and  character  of  his  subjects ;  while  it  still  further  alien- 
ated the  afifections  of  those,  whose  condition  he  wished  to  im- 
prove. Then  the  Emperor  receded.  Upon  this  the  factious 
triumphed,  and  grew  more  factious  than  before ;  at  last  all  res- 
pect for  authority  was  gone,  revolt  ensued,  the  Emperor  fairly 
knew  not  what  to  do,  and  the  best  disposed  of  his  people  were 
left  in  a  strange  uncertainty  between  liie  ancient  usage  and  the 
reform.  Such  is  philanthropy  without  firmness.  So  much  do 
the  sterner  virtues  of  fortitude  and  justice  surpass  the  milder 
merits  of  benevolence  and  mercy. 

The  causes  of  the  litde  success,  that  attended  the  reforms  of 
Joseph,  are  to  be  looked  for  P^7  ui  himself,  and  partly  in  die 
nations  which  he  ruled.  ^^^^  ^^^^  unripe  for  the  rapid 
course  of  change ;  he  was  unskilnil  in  his  manner  of  urging  im- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


\6  Joseph  J7.  ofJluitrifik.  [Juty* 

provement  on  those  whom  he  desired  to  influence ;  and,  geiiei>f 
ally,  was  defik^ient  in  tact,  in  his  int^cour^e  with  others*  The 
officers  of  government,  who  were  necessarily  made  his  agents,  m 
part  did  not  comprehend  his  system ;  nwuiy  doubted  if  he  had  a 
feasible  system  ^  some  were,  from  their  interest  or  prejudices, 
secretly,  but  vigorously  opposed  to  it ;  and  thus  it  came  to  pass, 
that  even  to  the  Emperor  himself^  his  innovating  measures^  which 
were  to  break  down  the  bulwarks  of  fanaticism,  and  establish  the 
empire  of  philosophy,  remained  in  a  great  measure  but  a  mass 
of  waste  paper,  filed  away  in  the  bureaus  of  state.  Frederic 
n.  was  irresistible  in  the  steady  firnmess,  with  which  he  moved 
towards  the  execution  of  his  boldest  measures  in  the  internal 
administration  j  and  would  have  been  inexorably  severe  against 
any,  who  might  have  attempted  to  thwart  his  purpose.  But 
Joseph,  precipitate  in  issuing  his  edicts,  knew  not  how  to  over- 
come opposition ;  and  contented  himself  with  addressing  to  aU 
tbe  officers  of  state  a  sort  of  imperial  homily,  a  mixture  of  elo- 
quence, commonplace  sentiments,  sound  j^ilosophy,  and  dic- 
tatorial haughtiness.  It  probably  produced  no  more  effect,; 
than  the  invectiyes  of  an  irritable  man,  uttered  in  a  moment  of 
excitement.  After  all,  there  is  no  such  thing  in  nature  as  abzo*' 
lute^  though  there  nmy  be  irresponsible^  power. 

The  Emperor's  passion  for  reform  was  so  strong,  that  he 
went  far  beyond  the  most  extraordinary  performances  in  exces- 
sive legislation  of  any  of  our  state  legislatiures.  A  set  of  reso- 
lutions, aiming  at  a  change  in  the  fundamental  laws  of  the 
country,  would  require  of  Congress  a  six  weeks'  discussion ; 
Joseph,  withm  the  course  of  three  years,  issued  at  least  two  hun- 
dred and  seventy  six  laws  of  a  general  nature,  and  obligatory  on 
all  his  dominions ;  while  the  number  of  special  edicts  for  the  im- 
mediate territory  of  Austria  was  too  great  to  be  readily  counted* 

The  contrast  between  the  state  of  intelligence  prevailing  in. 
Austria,  and  the  culture  in  the  neighboring  Protestant  countries 
was  apparent  even  to  Maria  Theresa.  '  How  c(»nes  it,'  said 
she  one  day  to  a  Protestant  (Vcm  Mpiser)  in  her  employ,  *  how 
comes  it  that  clear  heads  are  more  common  among  you  Protec- 
tants?' 'It  is'  replied  he,  ' because  we  put  more  windows  in 
the  house.'  Maria  Theresa  was  a  devotee,  though  a  woman 
of  benevolent  feelings ;  but  Joseph  proceeded  widi  great,  yet 
too  hasty  philanthropy  to  give  liberty  to  thought,  and  repeal  the 
keavy  penalties  which  prevailed  against  (&seBt« 

To  the  citizens  of  the  Umted  States,  in  whieh  there  is  no 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Joieph  n.  ofAuitria.  17 

established  sect,  the  idea  of  toleration  is  unacceptable,  because 
it  implies  subordmation,  and  is  a  mark  of  inferiority  and  weak- 
ness. To  those,  who  are  not  Catholics,  and  yet  live  in  a  Cath- 
olic country,  the  word  seems  fraught  vrjAi  the  richest  blessings 
of  religious  liberty.  An  edict,  proclaiming  unlimited  toleration, 
was  among  the  first  measures  adopted  by  Joseph,  in  a  spirit  of 
unprejudiced  justice.  He  also  viewed  it  as  a  wise  political  act, 
which  might  transfer  to  his  dominions  the  industry  of  Protestant 
countries,  and  cause  mtelligence  to  spring  from  the  unrestrained 
conflict  of  opinions. 

But  the  praise,  which  is  awarded  to  Joseph,  requires  limita- 
tion.   The  Emperor,  like  most  of  his  contemporaries  in  Europe, 
did  not  exactty  know  how  much  toleration  included.     His 
edict  allowed  the  free  confession  of  opinions  without  any  civil 
mabUity,  consequent  on  dissent ;  and  the  unrestrained  exercise 
of  public  worship,  wherever  a  dissenting  parish  could  provide 
the  necessary  funds.     Now  the  former  severity  of  the  govern- 
ment had  mduced  many  to  conceal  their  sentiments ;  and  the 
number  of  Anti-catholics,  claimmg  the  benefit  of  the  edict,  was 
great  beyond  all  expectation.     The  Catholic  clergy  interfered, 
and  attributed  the  numerous  seces^ons  fi*om  their  parishes  to  a 
wavering  love  of  novelty  and  change.     So  the  tolerant  Joseph 
enacted,  that  there  ^ould  be  a  limit  of  time,  within  which  all 
who  had  been  esteemed  Catholics,  but  who  wished  to  pass  for 
such  no  longer,  might  report  themselves ;  after  the  expiration 
of  the  time  thus  fixed,  every  (me,  who  had  apparently  been  a 
Cathdic,   and  had  not    signified    any  wish  to  the  contrary, 
fibould  ever  after  and  at  all  hazards  remain  of  the  Roman 
church,     l^ose  who  reported  themselves,  however,  were  to 
be  instructed  in  the  Catholic  faith,  and  converted,  if  possible  ; 
if  they  remamed  firm,   they  might  have  permission  to  join 
another  sect.     Power  being  on  the  side  of  tlje  clergy,  the 
instruction,  which  was  given,  consisted  often  in  direats,  abuse, 
and  personal  violence.     It  was  now  right  for  the  Protestants 
to  complain.     Joseph  listened  and  issued  new  orders.     The 
minds  of  the  people  were  unsetded,  and  neither  party  had  a 
distinct  understanding  of  its  condition. 

The  Catholic  clergy  complained,  that  their  revenues  were 
impaired.  The  Emperor  ordered,  that  taxes  diould  be  paid 
by  the  Dissetiters  to  the  Catholic  priesthood,  as  before.  The 
Protestants  were  thus  left  too  poor  to  provide  themselves  with 
suitable  teachers,  and  a  multiplicity  of  sects  seemed  about  to 

VOL.  XXXI. NO.  68.  3 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


18  Jo$eph  n.  of  Austria.  [July, 

ensue.  Joseph  began  with  absolute  toleration;  but  now  he 
became  provoked,  that  plebeian  ignorance  should  venture  to 
think  for  itself,  and  henceforward  was  willbg  to  tolerate  none 
but  Lutlierans  and  Calvinists. 

There  existed  a  singular  sect,  of  which  the  members  were 
called  I)eists,  or  Abrahamites.  They  were  the  relics  of  the 
early  reforms  in  Bohemia.  When  the  spirit  of  persecution 
raged^  agamst  all  who  were  suspected  of  heresy,  the  civil 
authority  had  taken  from  them  their  bibles  and  Protestant 
books  of  devotion,  and  they  were  thus  left  to  profess  Chris- 
tianity, independently  of  any  vinritten  documents.  Hence  their 
name,  since,  like  Abraham,  they  had  no  Scriptures.  Such  an 
attachment  to  the  opinions  of  their  fathers,  secretly  passing 
from  one  generation  to  another,  among  an  unenlightened  peas- 
antry, unsupported  by  books,  visible  imion,  or  external  forms, 
seems  to  us  a  most  remarkable  phenomenon  m  the  history  of 
the  human  mind.  These  poor  men  now  came  forward  and 
claimed  to  be  tolerated.  Their  case  merited  jfrom  our  enlight- 
ened and  philanthropic  Emperor  the  benefit  of  a  special  edict. 
'  Whoever  reports  himself  as  a  Deist,  shall,  without  inquiry,  at 
once  receive  twenty-four  blows  ad  posteriora^^  (we  quote  the 
words  of  the  law) '  and  the  pimishment  shall  be  repeated  as  often 
as  he  so  reports  himself,  not  because  he  is  a  Deist,  but  because 
he  says  he  is  that,  of  which  he  does  not  know  the  meaning.' 
Such  is  toleration.  Under  the  most  severe  penalties,  these 
Abrahamites  were  ordered  to  rank,  themselves  with  one  of  the 
three  great  sects.  Otherwise  their,  children  were  taken  from 
them,  and  they  themselves,  without  respect  to  age,  or  sex, 
separated  from  each  other,  exiled  from  their  ancient  homes, 
subjected  to  the  worst  public  services,  or  banished  to  Transyl- 
vania and  the  Bannat,  where,  fix)m  the  proximity  of  Turkey, 
a  sort  of  Babel  of  religions  was  licensed.  ^ 

In  giving  civil  liberties  to  the  Jews,^  Joseph  encountered 
fewer  difficulties.  He  began  with  a  general  rule,  which  took 
from  them  the  heavy  restrictions,  under  which  they  had  been 
permitted  to  exist.  In  doing  justice  to  them,  the  Emperor 
made  their  condition  in  his  dominions  more  favorable  than  it 

*  *  Den  Prie«ter  rufet  du  wieder  zur  Jangerschaft 
Des  ^rossen  Stifters ;  machest  zum  Unterthan 
Den  jochbeladen  Landman ;  machst  den 
Juden  zum  Menschen,' 
says  Klopstock,  in  an  Ode,  of  which  this  first  verse  is  the  best 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Joseph  II.  of  Austria.  19 

was  elsewhere.  His  subjects  complamed,  that  the  imperial 
justice  operated  as  a  bounty  to  attract  Jews  from  all  quar- 
ters. He,  therefore,  made  some  modifications  in  bis  first 
act,  which,  however,  still  left  the  condition  of  that  nation  far 
better  than  it  had  been  before.  The  example  of  justice  was 
soon  imitated  hj  neighboring  states. 

The  roost  difficult  task,  which  Joseph  undertook  in  regulat- 
ing the  religious  concerns  of  his  states,  was  the  reform  oi 
abuses  in  the  established  hierarchy.  He  was  determined  to 
set  bounds  to  the  influence  of  the  Pope,  and  allow  him  no 
voice,  except  in  cases  of  doctrine. 

A  beginning  was  made  with  the  monastic  orders.  The 
members  of  them  were  commanded  to  discontinue  their  de- 
pendence on  the  superior  of  their  orders,  and  to  submit  them- 
selves to  the  bishop  of  their  diocese  in  matters  of  religion;  but 
in  other  concerns  to  the  regular  civil  authorities.  The  monks 
replied,  that  the  monastic  vow  was  binding  upon  them,  and 
that  its  obligation  could  not  be  dispensed  with  ;  of  course  the 
superior  must  still  be  obeyed.  To  end  the  discussion,  Joseph 
abolished  all  monasteries  and  nunneries,  of  which  the  members 
led  the  idle,  contemplative  life.  At  that  time  the  Austrian 
monarchy  contained  two  thousand  and  sixty-nine  cloisters,  and 
idxty-three  thousand  persons,  attached  to  them..  The  clois- 
ters* were  all  broken  up,  and  the  nuns  and  monks  turned 
on  the  world,  except  such  as  were  engaged  in  some  directly 
useful  employment.  He  also  forbade  reUgious  processions, 
attempted  to  restrain  superstition,  and  prohibited  the  mum- 
meries, usual  in  the  church  festivals. 

In  all  these  measures,  Joseph  proceeded  without  any  refer- 
ence to  the  wishes  of  the  Pope  ;  and  such  danger  seemed  to 
threaten  the  interests  of  the  church,  that  the  Sovereign  Pontiff, 
having  full  confidence  in  the  power  of  his  eloquence,  deter- 
mined to  appear  personally  at  Vienna,  and  to  check  the  pro- 
gress of  change  by  an  attempt  at  direct  interference.  It  is 
not  consistent  with  our  limits  to  explain  how  unavailing  the 
journey  proved  to  be ;  Kaunitz  was  far  too  wary,  and  Joseph 
far  too  vain,  to  be  cicumvented  by  the  remonstrances,  the  elo-^ 
quence,  or  the  entreaties  of  the  illustrious  guest.  Pius  VI.  was 
called  by  the  women  the  handsome  Pope ;  his  fine  voice  and 

*  Brissot,  in  his  letter  to  his  constituents,  is  bitterly  unjuBt  to 
Josephi  and  insists  on  inventing  for  him  unworthy  motives. 


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20  Jo$qph  n.  ofAtuiria.  [July, 

stately  person  made  him  peculiarly  suited  fiff  display  on  tbe  great 
days  ofceremony ;  his  dress  was  always  arranged  with  scrupu- 
lous neatness,  and  a  careful  rehearsal  preceded  his  appearance 
in  any  of  his  most  important  functions.  Such  a  pope  might 
charm  the  fashionables  of  Vienna;  tlnrongs  of  devout  admirers 
crowded  to  secure  the  benefit  of  a  Messing,  so  gracefully  dia-. 
tributed,  and,  for  the  accommodation  of  the  pious,  his  slipper 
was  daily  left  in  the  antichamber  to  receive  the  kisses  of  the 
orthodox.  But  the  impenetrable  secrecy,  and  the  phlegmatie 
vanity  of  Kaunitz  left  no  opportunity  for  evening  a  successfiil 
negotiation ;  and  Joseph  was  only  gratified  in  his  self-love, 
that  now  for  the  first  time  for  more  than  a  thousand  years,  (or 
the  first  time  smce  the  days  of  Charlemagne,  the  head  of  the 
church  had  repaired,  and  almost  as  a  suppliant,  to  the  Im- 
perial Court.  So  litde  influence  was  es^ercised,  that  the 
very  day,  when  Pius  on  his  return  had  been  accompanied  by 
the  Emperor  as  far  as  the  convent  of  Mariabrun,  and  had 
there  received  the  most  tender  demonstrations  of  regard  at  the 
farewell,  which  was  taken  in  the  presence  of  the  people,  was 
selected  to  announce  to  the  monks  the  abolition  of  that 
cloister. 

In  addition  to  the  bitterness  of  having  displayed  bis  inability 
to  resist  the  encroachment  of  the  Emperor,  the  Homan  Pon- 
tififhad  now  to  regret  the  sacrifice  qf  the  dignity  of  his  office. 
The  disputes  continued,  and  at  last  a  communication  fi'om 
Rome  gave  so  much  ofience  to  Joseph,  that  he  returned  it 
without  any  written  answer,  but  with  tiie  verbal  message,  that 
he  presumed  the  document  had  been  forged  by  some  ill-dis-. 
posed  person,  and  had  received  the  papal  signature  without 
having  been  read.  The  Emperor  was  now  ready  for  a  for- 
mal rupture  with  the  Roman  See,  and  for  proclaiming  the 
entire  mdependence  of  his  states  in  religious  concerns.  He 
was  prevented  from  doing  so  by  no  respect  for  the  church,  but 
by  a  consideration  of  the  difficulties,  which  would  have 
attended  such  a  measure,  and  which  would  have  diverted  him 
from  other  favorite  schemes. 

In  his  intercourse  with  foreign  nations,  Joseph  is  not  always 
entided  to  the  praise  of  good  intentions.  It  was  he,  rather 
than  his  mother,  who  was  a  partner  in  the  plan  for  dividing 
Poland ;  and  in  hb  intercourse  with  Holland,  Bavaria,  and  the 
Porte,  he  manifested  a  restiess  passion  for  aggrandizement, 
which,  by  its  very  intensity,  defeated  itself,  leadmg  him  to  poimce 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Jotejfb  JI.  ofduMtria.  21 

ccffitmually  on  the  weal^est  of  his  neigbb(»:s,  and  drawing  him 
df  913  often  by  the  prospect  of  some  more  allurmg  g9me.  In 
nope  of  his  negotiadoi^s  with  foreign  powers  does  he  appear  m 
a  less  favorable  light,  than  in  the  contest  with  Holland.  An- 
cient treaties  refused  to  his  Belgian  provinces  the  privileges  of 
foreign  comm^ipe.  Joseph  asserted  for  his  subjects  their 
natural  rights,  in  virtue  of  the  intrinsic  justice  of  the  demand, 
and  because  die  ancient  treaties  had  lost  their  force  by  the  effect 
of  subsequent  trapsactions.  If  there  was  justice  in  the  demand, 
there  was  po  palliation  for  renouncing  the  privilege  anew  in 
consideration  of  a  gratuity  in  money.  As  a  financial  specula- 
tion, it  was  ignoble,  It.  was  making  the  weak  pay  for  being 
left  in  peace. 

The  war  against  Turkey  was  unwise,  and,  we  must  add, 
unjust ;  Bod  for  it  Joseph  had  to  atone  by  the  loss  of  all  mili- 
tary reputatioq,  and  of  his  health,  which  gave  way  under  a 
consumption,  engendered  by  the  fatigues  and  exposures  of  his 
first  campaign.  ^  To  be  a  soldier,'  he  said  in  his  farewell  to  the 
sffmy,  ^  was  always  his  most  decided  propensity.'  Since  he 
attamed  no  eminence  in  war,  he  passed  a  severe  sentence  on 
himself,  in  avowing  his  predilection. 

The  early  education  of  Joseph  was  unequal.  The  history 
of  the  states,  which  he  was  to  govern,  was  taught  him  ip  a 
manner  the  least  suited  to  benefit  him  ;  and  his  mother  would 
have  held  herself  deficient  in  her  duty,  had  slie  not  provided 
carefully  for  his  instruction  in  religion,  according  to  the  notions 
of.'arl>igotted  priesthood.  But  be  also  acquired,  besides  the 
German,  ^vhich  he  wrote  uncommonly  well,  the  French,  the 
Italian,  and  the  Hungarian  languages ;  and  by  means  of  the  Bo- 
hemian he  was  somewhat  familiar  with  those  of  the  northeast  of 
Europe.  He  seems  also  to  have  possessed  a  lively  curiosity,, 
which  was  subsequentiy  strengthened  by  travelling,  and  by  fire- 
quent  intercourse  with  mtelligent  men.  It  b  said,  to  the  hcmor 
of  his  nationality,  that  he  insisted  on  the  use  of  German  at  his 
court,  though  his  mother  had  used,  and  the  Austrian  nobility 
still  preferred,  the  French. 

In  domestic  life  he  was  unhappy.  His  first  wife,  whom  he 
tenderly  loved,  died  in  about  three  years  after  marriage,  on  the 
birth  of  her  second  child.  His  second  wife  he  never  loved, 
and  she  did  not  live  to  bear  his  indifference  long.  The  only 
surviving  daughter  of  his  first  wife  died  when  about  eight  years 
old,  and  Joseph  had  now  nothmg  but  his  country,  on  which  to 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


22  /o#epA  n.  of  Austria.  [July, 

concentrate  his  affections.  He  had  consented  against  his 
will,  to  his  second  marriage,  from  reasons  of  state ;  but  bemg 
again  left  a  widower,  he  faithfully  cherished  the  recoDections  of. 
his  youthful  happiness,  and  for  more  than  twenty  years  he  was 
not  for  a  single  day  under  the  control  of  woman.  Neither  had 
he  any  political  favorites.  He  was  fond  of  his  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  took  a  lively  interest  in  their  domestic  concerns ; 
but  he  was  far  above  aU  nepotism. 

In  his  personal  expenses  he  was  sparing,  that  his  finances 
might  the  better  bear  the  cost  of  public  improvements.  Hb 
economy  was  one  cause  of  the  hostility  of  many,  who  had  ex- 
pected abundance  from  his  mimificence.  His  dress  and  per- 
sonal manners  were  remarkable  for  their  simplicity. 

His  pleasures  were  the  theatre,  travelling,  and  music.  In 
the  latter  he  could  have  been  no  connoisseur.  A  story  is  told 
in  the  life  of  Mozart,  that  the  Emperor,  after  hearing  one  of 
that  great  master's  very  difficult  works,  said  goodnaturedly  to 
him,  *  Very  fine,  very  fine  ;  but  you  have  put  mto  your  com- 

Ssition  terribly  many  notes.'  *Just  exactly  enough,  your 
ajesty,'  said  the  offended  musician,  '  and  not  a  sbgle  note 
too  many.' 

As  a  man  of  business,  he  was  of  untiring  diligence.  Few 
private  men  could  be  compared  with  him.  It  was  the  rule  of 
Kaunitz,  that  most  extraordinary  compoimd  of  greatness  and 
folly,  never  to  do  any  thing  himself,  which  he  could  possibly 
get  done  by  others.  Joseph's  system  was  the  reverse.  He 
was  for  doing  every  thing  himseJil  He  slept  on  straw  till  his 
last  illness ;  and  rose  at  five  in  summer,  and  before  six  in  win- 
ter. His  day  was  all  labor ;  he  gave  himself  no  respite  ;  he 
retired  to  rest  just  before  midnight ;  he  was  always  temperate, 
and  at  all  times  ready  to  give  his  mind  to  public  concerns. 

Sensitive  as  he  was,  he  could  forgive  opposition.  He  was 
accustomed  to  read  the  bitter  strictures  of  the  discontented  on 
his  administration ;  and  he  really  seems  always  to  have  believed 
himself  to  be  doing  what  was  right,  at  least  what  was  most  for 
the  general  advantage. 

Joseph's  reign  continued  hardly  ten  years ;  he  had  occasion 
to  learn  many  a  severe  and  painftil  lesson  \  perhaps  had  his 
life  been  spared,  in  the  great  school  of  experience  he  might 
have  acquired  moderation,  and  through  trials  and  misfortunes 
have  made  his  way  to  tranquillity.  He  died  at  a  moment  the 
most  unfortunate  for  his  fame.     Yet  the  Prince,  who  in  nme 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Joaqph  n.  of  Austria.  23 

years  abolished  vassalage,  reformed  the  penal  code,  improved 
.  the  whole  system  of  national  instruction,  established  the  means 
of  popular  education,  provided  by  a  tariff*  for  the  protection  of 
the  Austrian  system,  colonized  desert  parts  of  his  territories, 
introduced  the  liberty  of  the  press,  proclaimed  toleration  in 
matters  of  religion,  turned  Jews  into  men  and  citizens,  abolished 
all  useless  monasteries,  and  founded  hospitals  and  many  endow- 
ments for  the  unfortunate  ;  such  a  prince  can  bear  to  have  his 
faults  exhibited,  and  yet  preserve  a  claim  to  esteem. 

If  Joseph  was  philanthropic,  he  was  in  no  less  degree  unfor- 
tunate. His  subjects  were  so  much  accustomed  to  hear  the 
.  clanking  of  their  chams,  that  they  distrusted  every  effort  for 
their  relief.  Unhappy  as  a  husband,  unhappy  as  a  father,  un- 
happy as  a  ruler,  his  last  hours  acquire  a  siri)lime,  tragic  mter- 
est.  Like  the  Hamlet  of  the  poet,  destiny  seemed  to  have 
called  upon  him  for  the  accomplbhment  of  purposes  beyond 
.  his  strength,  and  he  was  too  weak  to  gam  the  victory  in  a  con- 
test, which  he  had  too  much  moral  courage  to  shun. 

There  are  many  anecdotes  related  of  Joseph,  which  repre- 
sent him  in  a  very  amiable  light.  At  Paris,  in  the  midst  of  the 
most  splendid  regal  entertainments,  he  would  be  found  apart  in 
a  remote  room,  quietly  conversing  with  some  man  of  decided 
merit.  Bemg  asked  if  the  routine  of  dissipation  did  not  ex- 
haust him,  he  replied,  ^  I  do  not  bum  my  candle  at  both 
ends ;  it  is  that  which  will  save  me.'  In  the  kingdom  of  Wir- 
temberg,  there  is  a  particularly  pleasant  road,  made  by  the  side 
of  the  great  highway  from  Stuttgardt  to  a  ;[ieighboring  palace  of 
the  royal  family ;  a  large  sign,  like  one  of  the  boards  by  our 
bridges,  indicating  the  rates  of  toD,  declares  tliat  no  plebeian 
wheels  may  roU  upon  it,  and  that  the  owner  of  a  carriage  must 
be  of  at  least  princely  rank,  or  he  cannot  be  allowed  to  raise  a 
dust  on  the  patrician  pavement.  In  the  same  spirit  the  nobility 
of  Vienna  prayed,  that  the  fine  public  walks  b  the  suburbs  of 
that  city,  might  be  closed,  except  to  those  of  their  rank.  *  If,' 
answered  Joseph,  ^  I  would  walk  among  none  but  my  equals 
m  birth  and  rank,  I  should  have  to  stay  with  my  ancestors  in 
the  vaults  of  the  church  of  the  Capuchins.  I  prefer  men  of  vir- 
tue and  talent  to  those  who  can  only  count  princes  among  their 
progenitors.'  *  His  dress,'  it  was  said  of  him  in  the  early  cam- 
paign against  Frederic,  *  is  the  dress  of  a  soldier,  his  wardrobe 

*His  tariff  wM  an  injudiciomsi  one. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


24  Jtneph  U.  of  AiUtria.  .  [July, 

that  of  a  lieutenant,  his  recfeadon  labor,  hid  life  constant  inotion.' 
He  was  of  undoubted  bravery,  and  never  shunned  personal  dan- 
ger. ^  How  can  I  complain  of  dangers,  when  I  see  my  Emperor's 
crown  as  much  exposed  as  my  cap?'  said  a  grenadier,  in  a 
commendable  antithesis  for  one  of  his  rank. 

There  is  a  story  related  by  Coxe,  in  which  the  Emperor, 
who  often  went  about  incognito^  plays  the  part  of  another 
James  Fitz-James,  according  to  the  lively  picture  of  the  Scot- 
tbh  bard.  The  daughter  of  dn  officer's  widow  made  him  the 
confidant  of  the  unjust  neglect,  which  their  sufferfags  had  to 
sustain  from  the  Emperor.  Hepromises,  if  she  will  go  to  the 
palace,  to  be  her  intercessor.  The  poor  girl  gratefiilly  accepts 
his  offer,  and  is  overwhelmed  with  awe,  when  she  finds  that  she 
has  been  abusing  the  Emperor  to  his  own  fiaice.  The  generous 
inonardh  forgives  and  reKeves.  As  a  further  proof  of  a  liberal 
spirit,  it  is  related,  that  Joseph,  having  inherited  from  his  father, 
as  a  private  patrimony,  twenty-two  millions  of  guilders  m  Aus- 
trian paper-money,  consigned  the  whole  to  the  flames.  When 
in  the  Turkish  war  he  had  covered  himself  with  shame  and 
defeat,  he  sent  Laudon  to  take  his  place.  '  Go,  dear  Laudon,' 
slaid  he,  *  set '  my  blunders  to  rights ;  I  gi^e  you  fiill  powers.' 
We  at  least  like  the  honesty  of  his  answer  on  beirig  asked  his 
opinion  of  the  revolution  of  our  fathers.  *I  am  a  royalist  by 
trade.' 

Frederic  11.  of  Prussia,  happening  one  day  to  see  that  a 
libel  upon  him,  which  some  discontented  person  had  affixed  to 
the  wall,  was  placed  -too  high  to  be  conveniently  read,  took  it 
down  himself  and  placed  it  lower.  In  this  he  showed  good 
humor  and  good  sense.  We  ^e  not  sure,  that  Joseph's  imitation 
of  this  little  matter,  was  a  mark  of  taste  or  abilipr.  He  had 
assigned  a  Roman  Catholic  church  as  a  place  of  worship  to 
the  Lutherans  and  Calvinists.  A  writing  was  one  morning 
found  on  the  door,  fiill  of  bitter  invective  against  the  Emperor ; 
he  ordered  the  paper  to  be  printed  and  sold  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Protestant  service.  This  indicated  petulance  and  irrita- 
bility; rather  than  greatness  of  mind. 

The  liberal  principles  of  Joseph  seem  in  direct  contrast  with 
his  hijgh  birth,  and  his  bigotted  education:  But  the  anomaly  is 
explained  by  the  influence  of  the  example  of  Frederic.  The 
glory  of  the  veteran  monarch  naturally  attracted  the  admira- 
tion of  the  aspiring  Joseph,  who  was  led,  to  contemplate  with 
wonder  the  military  kingdom,  which,  with  a  moderate  territory 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1630.]  JbfepA  i7*  of  Auitria.  26 

and  population,  yet  held  the  balance  of  power  in  Europe.  The 
younger  mcmarch  determined  to  imitate,  but  he  failed  to  bear  in 
mhd  the  diOerence  between  his  own  dominions  and  those  of 
Frederic.  In  Prussia  there  existed  no  powerful  nobiUty  to 
watch  the  motions  of  the  monarch ;  no  ancient  families,  whose 
influence  and  grandeur  were  hereditary ;  no  venerated  and  opu- 
lent hierarchy,  havmg  alike  the  sanction  of  time,  of  supeirstition, 
and  of  cherished  religious  faith ;  no  jealously  defended  consti- 
tutions, securmg  to  the  several  provinces  of  the  monarchy  their 
respective  privileges,  and  endeared  by  the  recollections  of  pa- 
triotism. The  kingdcxn.of  Prussia  admitted  of  unity  m  the 
administration,  and  contained  within  itself  no  obstacles  to  the 
i^stem  of  military  despotism.  But  Joseph  found  hb  hereditary 
dominbns  forming  a  kind  of  federative  state,  and  he  wished  to 
give  tiiem  an  absolute  unity,  correspondmg  to  his  theory  of  an 
equal  admmistration.  He.  came  to  rule  over  nations,  that 
spoke  various  tongues,  and  he  thought  by  an  imperial  decree, 
to  change  the  language  of  common  life  and  of  the  law ;  he  un- 
dertook to  denationalize  the  strongest  portion  of  his  realms,  and 
to  take  from  the  millions  of  Hungary,  the  tongue,  which  was 
associated  in  their  minds  with  the  best  days  of  their  early  his- 
tory, and  with  their  proudest  recollections.  He  saw  that  the 
usurpaticxQS  of  the  church  had  by  degrees  acquired  within  his 
territonr  an  authority,  which  claimed  to  be  independent  of  the 
laws  of  the  land ;  and  he  hoped  by  a  series  of  edicts,  unsup- 
ported by  popular  opinion,  to  overturn  an  established  state  of 
things,  identified  with  all  that  his  subjects  venerated  and  feared. 
He  forgot  his  relative  position,  and  the  reciprocal  influence  of 
circumstances,  popular  caprices,  an  obstinate  regard  for  what 
was  endeared  by  antiquity,  and  the  vague  but  powerful  m- 
fluence  of  a  superstitious  iaith.  The  more  devotedly  he  sacri- 
ficed himself  for  his  subjects,  the  more  earnestly  be^  gave  up 
pleasure,  tranquillity,  and  health,  to  the  fiirtherance  of  his  ob- 
jects, the  more  critical  did  his  own  situation  become.  He  was 
engaged  in  a  struggle  with  the  times ;  and  his  destmy  found  in 
diem  too  powerful  an  antagonist.  The  more  impetuously  and 
warmly  he  rushed  to  the  contest,  the  more  unguardedly  did  he 
lay  himself  open  to  successful  attacks.  His  imprudent  exer- 
tions made  oj^osition  almost  universal.  His  mother,  a  few 
weeks  before  his  birth,  at  a  time  when  her  states  were  overrun 
by  the  French  and  Prussian  armies,  had  said  in  her  anguish, 
that  in  her  wide  inheritance  she  knew  not  the  city,  where  she 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  4 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


26  Tone  of  British  Criticitm.  ['uly, 

could  await  her  delivery  in  security.  When  Joaeph  came  to 
die,  he  could  have  said,  that  he  knew  not  the  town  in  his 
realms,  where  his  last  moments  would  not  be  embittered  by  the 
din  of  clamorous  remonstrance.  The  famous  Oxenstiem  of 
Sweden  used  to  say,  '  that  he  never  took  a  care  with  him  to  his 
night's  rest,'  so  exact  was  he  in  business,  so  serene  in  temper. 
Joseph  never  knew  the  enjoyment  of  rest  in  this  world ;  and 
when  he  came  to  prepare  for  his  last  sleep,  which  nature  ren- 
ders deep,  anxieties  crowded  round  him  to  the  last ;  so  that 
a  few  hours  before  his  death,  he  could  beg  for  no  more  than 
thb  epitaph  on  his  tomb,  '  Here  rests  a  Prince,  whose  designs 
were  pure,  but  who  had  the  misfortune  to  see  all  his  enterprises 
shipwrecked.' 

We  may.  add,  that  the  present  Emperor  of  Austria  was  the 
favorite  nephew  and  dive  of  Joseph. 


Akt.  n. — American  Literature.     An  Article  in  the  99th  Num- 
ber of  the  Edmburgh  Review. 

It  is  always  more  or  less  provoking  to  be  made  the  subject 
of  abuse  and  sarcasm  with  or  without  just  cause ;  and  it  is  pain- 
ful ♦  enough  to  see  the  character  of  the  relations  between  two 
great  countriesr  vitiated  by  the  paltry  prejudices  of  a  few  ob- 
scure scribblers ;  but  it  is  nevertheless  curious,  as  a  matter  of 
philosophical  study,  and  at  times  sufficiently  amusing  to  mark  the 
influence  of  national  pride  and  jealousy  on  tlie  tone  of  the  Brit- 
ish periodical  writers  in  regard  to  the  United  States.  We  have 
already  on  several  preceding  occasions,  adverted  to  this  sub- 
ject, and  we  rarely  open  a  review,  magazine,  or  newspaper 
from  the  mother  country,  without  observing  some  new  effect  of 
the  same  cause.  As  regularly  as  their  successive  numbers 
issue  from  the  press,  each  and  aU  of  them  continue  to  carry  on 
this — as  they  probably  conceive — ^very  pious  warfare,  accord- 
ing to  their  various  measures  of  ability  and  habitual  modes  of 
handling  the  topics  that  come  before  them.  The  Quarterly 
reviles  us,  the  Edinburgh  sneers  at  us,  Blackwood  bullies  us,* 

*'rhe  writer  of  a  late  article  in  Blackwood's  Magazine,  entitled 
*  Wellington  at  Cadiz,'  containing  an  account  of  an  entertainment  given 
to  nw  hero  upon  a  visit  to  that  city,  goes  out  of  his  way  to  introduce 
tiie  foUowmg  episode,  which  we  extract  bb  a  specimen  of  the  tone  of 


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1830.]  Tone  of  British  Criticim.  27 

the  magazines  show  us  up  under  no  very  brilliant  colors  in  im- 
aginary travels  and  journals  from  Kentucky ;— -even  the  poor 
bookseller's  drudge,  who  gets  up  that  humblest  of  all  periodi- 
cals, the  Literary  Gazette^  can  afibrd  to  be  merry  at  die  ex- 

that  journal  in  regard  to  the  United  States.  We  hardly  know  whether 
to  adnureapioet  the  elegance  and  correctness  of  the  language,  or  the 
liberality  of  the  sentiments. 

'  The  British  Consul  was  honored  with  fifty  cards,  to  be  filled  up  witl^ 
the  names  of  such  of  the  respectable  merchants  and  their  families  as 
he  should  select  The  Portuguese,  Sicilian,  and  other  foreign  consuls, 
were  complimented  with  tickets  for  their  families ;  but  in  this  liberal 
distribution  of  favors,  by  some  oversight,  the  Consul  for  the  United 
States  was  unluckily  forgotten.  The  Republican  Eagle  was  all  in  q. 
flutter,  at  the  unintentional  indignity.  On  a  representation  to  the  com- 
mittee by  the  Consul,  an  apology  was  made  for  the  omission,  and  caxds 
of  invitation,  in  blank,  to  the  number  of  twenty,  were  immediately 
placed  in  his  hands  as  the  *  amende  hmwraM — ^but  Jonathan  made  it 
quite  a  *  national'  affair;  insisting  on  an  equal  number  of  cards  o»were 
bestowed  on  the  Consul  of  Great  Britain.  We  were  just  then  on  the 
eve  of  a  war  with  the  StaJUs  of  stripes  and  stars,  (and  slavery.)  Some 
private  discussions  took  place,  during  which  it  is  believed  the  wishes  of 
the  hero  of  the  fete  were  consulted,  and  which  ended,  for  the  sake  of  har- 
mony, in  complying  with  the  American  Consul's  rc^umtion,  (rather  than 
request,)  and  fifty  cards  were  officially ,  or  at  least  more  ceremoniously 
than  cordysUy  presented.  This  concession  (xohich  was,  I  believe,  ike  svh- 
jed  of  a  report  to  ike, States,)  had  the  effect  of  introducing  a  mob  of  sleeks 
headed  genUem^n  from  the  Western  world,  (chi^y  captains  and  super- 
cargoes from  Philadelphia  and  New  York,)  in  long  skirted  coats,  and 
nankeen  breeches — all  redolent  of  tar  and  tobacco — am^r^  the  embroi- 
dered crowd !  But  even  their  RepuhUcan  vanity  must  have  quailed  under 
the  mortifying  sneers  of  the  noble  Sfinoras,  who  appeared  to  loath  the 
toudi  of  their  tanned  and  ungloved  paws.^ 

The  article  is  written  throughout  with  a  great  outpouring  of  the  heart, 
and  seems  to  be  a  sort  of  sentimental  prose  poem,  the  author  of  .which 
mtroduces  himself  aa  a  witness  of  the  scenes  he  describes.  Should  he 
be  disposed  to  indite  another  work  of  this  description  in  honor  of  the 
conqueror  of  Waterloo,  we  would  venture  to  suggest  to  him,  that  as 
the  nearest  connexions  of  his  hero  have  condescended  to  select  their 
wives  from  the  families  of  some  of  us  sleek-headed  genUemen  of  the 
West,  it  is  hardly  ameable  to  the  rules  of  the  art  to  make  us  the  vil- 
lains of  the  plot  It  would  also  not  be  amiss,  should  the  scene  be  laid 
in  Spain,  to  consult  the  court  calendar,  so  far  as  to  ascertain  the  titie 
of  the  Duchess  of  Benavente ;  and  we  would  fiirther  express  our 
doubts,  whether  the  kind  of  triumph,  which  the  hero  is  represented  as 
achieving  over  the  Duke  of  Frias  and  the  Prince  of  Anglona,  be  well 
suited  to  form  the  catastrophe  of  a  sentimental  ijoem  to  appear  in  a 
loyal  and  religious  magazine.  A  denouement  of  this  kind,  if  resorted  to 
at  all,  can  only  be  employed  with  safety  in  works  of  a  comig  order ;  and 
even  in  those,  the  example  of  Pope's  Afra  has  not  been  considered  by 
the  best  modern  writers  as  furnishing  a  standard  for  general  imitation« 


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3d  Tone  of  British  Criticum.  [Juty, 

pense  of  Jonathan.*  In  short  we  are  daily,  weekly,  monthly, 
and  quarterly^  from  one  year's  end  to  the  other,  accused  be- 
fore these  self-created  courts  of  sundry  high  crimes  and  mis- 
demeanors, and  to  all  these  indictments  we  are  regularly  ex- 
pected to  plead  guilty,  at  least  by  a  silent  acquiescence  in  the 
charges  made  upon  us.  If  in  reply  to  this  continual  attack,  an 
American  writer  happen  to  venture  upon  a  few  worite  in  the 
way  of  recrimination,  or  even  simple  self-defence,  we  are 
forthwith  proclaimed'  by  the  same  general  chorus  of  voices  to 
be  the  most  susceptible  and  thin-skinned  of  all  the  dwellers 
upon  earth.  It  is  perhaps  but  justice  to  add,  that  the  Radir 
cab^  who,  like  us,  diough  for  different  reasons,  are  constantly 
run  upon  by  almost  every  other  sect  and  party  in  the  kingdom, 
appear  to  have  a  sort  of  fellow-feeling  with  us,  and  that  we  are 
occasionaDy  patronized  in  the  Westminster  Review,  the  Bltidk 
Dwarf,  and  Cohhetfs  Roister. 

^  Such  is,  and  has  been  for  many  years  past,  the  habitual  tone 
of  the  British  critics  in  regard  to  this  country.  In  the  mean 
time  the  real  head  and  front  of  our  offendmg — ^as  is  perfectly 
well  understood  on  all  sides — ^is  nothing  more  than  diis,  that 
we  happen  by  the  act  of  Grod,  and  the  valor  and  virtue  of  our 
fathers,  without  any  merit  or  fault  of  our  own,  to  be  placed  in 
such  a  situation,  political,  geographical,  and  statistical^  that  we 
are  more  likely  than  any  other  power  to  rival  or  surpass  Great 
Britam,  first,  in  those  commercial  and  maritime  pursuits,  whicl^ 
have  hitherto  constituted  the  chief  elements  of  her  greatness, 
and  at  a  more  remote  period  in  population,  wealth  and  national 
importance.  Now  we  put  it  to  the  conscience  of  any  reflecting 
statesman  in  the  mother  country,  or  even  any  honest  and  fair- 
minded  man  among  the  more  irritable  race  of  authors,  to  de- 
cide— and  we  are  willing  to  abide  by  the  sentence — ^whether 
this  be  a  just  ground  for  so  much  abuse.  It  is,  no  doubt, 
natural  enough,  that  a  comparative  view  of  the  respective  posi- 
tions of  the  two  countries  should  excite  a  good  desd  of  jealousy 

^This  journal,  as  is  well  known,  is  a  mere  puffing  machine  in  the 
hands  of  the  booksellers,  conducted,  we  believe,  by  a  wortKless  crea- 
ture named  Jerdan,  It  has  lately  signalized  itself  by  an  attack  upon 
Washinffton,  whom  the  wildest  of  our  foreign  traducers  had  hitherto 
respected,  but  on  whom  this  miserable  tool  undertakes  to  fasten  tiie 
foul  and  odious  charge  of  irreligion.  We  take  for  granted  that  tMa 
proceeding  ^ill  have  its  proper  effect  upon  the  circulation  of  the  work 
in  the  Umted  States. 


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1830.]  Tone  of  BritUk  Criticim.  29 

in  British  minds ;  but  we  appeal  to  the  sober  sense  and  con- 
siderate iudgment  of  our  transatlantic  brethren  to  say,  whether 
it  be  right  and  prqper  to  indulge  this  sentiment,  and  exhibit  it 
so  plainly  as  they  do  in  their  language  and  actions.  Is  the 
petulant  and  peevish  spirit,  which  they  regularly  show  in  regard 
to  this  subject,  such  a  one  as  we  should  naturaUy  expect  from  a 
great  and  gallant  nation,  that  still  maintains,  though  in  the  wane 
of  her  fortunes,  a  lofty  standing  among  the  leading  powers  of  the 
worid  ?  Is  it  not  more  like  the  petty  spite  of  a  faded  beauty,  who 
would  gladly,  if  she  dared,  tear  out  die  eyes  of  a  younger  rival, 
because  she  feels  that  their  lustre  eclipses  that  of  her  own  ?  Or, 
onrnting  any  question  of  justice  and  propiriety,  is  it  not  the  die* 
tate  of  policy  and  correct  taste  to  suppress  these  base  emotions, 
and  to  render  a  manly  and  honorable  tribute  to  merit  of  every 
descriptian  wherever  we  meet  with  it?  Is  not  this,  after  aU,  the 
best  and  surest  method  of  fully  securing  our  own  deserts,  what- 
ever they  may  be?  is  it  possible  to  give  a  more  significant  proof 
of  conscious  weakness,  than  by  constantly  carpmg  aft,  and  exag- 
gerating petty  blemishes  m  the  characters  of  others;  putting 
the  worst  constructioii  upon  doubtfiil  passages ;;  and  passing  over 
in  silence,  or  ^  damning  with  faint  praise '  the  good  qualities  and 
actions  that  cannot  be  disputed?  lYben  we  see  an  individual  in 
inivate  life  pursuing  this  course,  do-we  not  pronounce  him  at 
once  and  without  hesitation  to  be  a  sour,  sorry,  poor-spirited 
creature,  and  generally  conclude  that  he  is  a  disappointed  and 
broken-down  man?  The  same  principles  apply  to  the  inter- 
course of  nations ;  and  if  individuals,  so  insignificant  as  ourselves, 
might  venture  to  suggest  any  thing  in  the  nature  of  advice  to 
our  brethren  on  the  ^er  side  of  the  water,  we  would,  in  all 
humility,  respectfiilly  give  it  as  our  opinion,  that  they  would 
better  ccmsult  their  own  interest  and  comfort,  as  well  as  ours, 
by  putting  a  good  face  upon  this  matter,  and  accustoming 
themselves  to  lode  vnih  complacency  and  satisfacti(»i,  instead 
of  a  mean  and  paltry  Jeakusy,  upon  the  rising  greatness  and 
exuberant  prosperity  of  our  young  and  flourishing  republic. 

The  abuse,  which  they  lavish  upon  us,  although  it  may  give 
us  at  times  some  passing  annoyance,  really  does  us  very  little 
injury,  while  the  indulgence  of  the  feelings,  in  which  it  has  its 
origm,  must  be  to  them,  unless  the  best  ethical  philosophers 
are  at  fault,  a  perpetual  source  of  internal  uneasiness  and  dis- 
quiet. On  the  other  hand,  if  they  could  persuade  themselves 
to  take  a  Afferent  view  of  the  subject,  they  might  derive  a 


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30  Tone  of  British  Criticism.  [July, 

satisfaction  of  the  highest  and  most  liberal  kind  from  the  very 
circmnstances,  which  now  change  the  milk  of  human  kindness^ 
that  should  naturally  flow  in  their  bosoms  for  a  kindred  people, 
into  wormwood  and  gall.  Is  there  nothing,  in  fact,  to  approve, 
to  admire,  to  rejoice  at,  to  S3rmpathise  with  in  the  mighty 
developement  of  wealth  and  population — ^the  creation,  as  it 
were,  of  a  new  human  race — which  is  now  going  on  upon  our 
vast  territory  ?  And  is  it  no  just  ground  of  pride  and  pleasure  to 
an  Englishman  that  all  these  wonders  are  tlie  work  of  English 
hands,  and  were  performed  under  the  influence  of  English 
habits,  feelings,  and  principles?  Can  the  friend  of  learning  in 
England  find  no  joy  in  reflecting  that  the  language  he  loves 
and  cultivates — the  language,  which  conveyed  to  his  infant  ear 
the  soft  accents  of  maternal  aflfection — to  his  young  heart  the 
tender  avowals  of  passionate  love— -to  his  manly  mind  the 
sublime  strams  of  parliamentary  and  pulpit  eloquence,  will  be 
spoken  m  a  future  age  by  hundreds  of  millions,  inhabiting  a 
distant  foreign  land,  and  will  enliven  with  its  rich  and  noble 
music  the  now  solitary  regions  of  another  quarter  of  the  globe  ? 
Is  it  nothing,  for  example,  to  the  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
Shakspeare — and  every  Englishman  is  or  ought  to  be  one — 
that  the  madness  of  Lear  will  hereafter  rend  the  concave  of  a 
thousand  theatres  from  Maine  to  California;  the  sorrows  of 
Juliet  draw  forth  floods  of  S3rmpathy  from  bright  eyes  in  the 
valleys  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  or  on  the  banks  of  the  river 
Columbia ;  and  the  moumftil  melody  of  the  tfarp  of  Ariel  move 
upon  the  bosom  of  the  smooth  Pacific  'in  notes  by  distance 
made  more  sweet'  than  they  ever  could  have  been,  even  in 
the  fancy  of  the  poet,  upon  the  shores  of  the  'still  vexed 
Bermoothes?'  Here,  too,  Liberty  has  found  a  home  and  a 
throne,  and  Liberty  is  or  was  the  god  of  the  idolatry  of  every 
true-bom  Englishman.  Is  it  nothing  t6  the  countryman  of 
Hampden,  Sidney,  and  RusseD,  that  the  principles  of  'the 
glorious  constitution,'  for  which  they  gave  up  their  '  golden 
years'  to  exile  and  prison,  or  their  lives  upon  die  block,  are  to 
flourish  hereafter  in  all  their  beauty,  purified  and  perfected, 
according  to  the  illustrious  Fox,  by  the  experience  of  a  thou- 
sand years,  in  four  and  twenty — ^in  the  sequel  we  know  not 
how  many  more — ^independent  states?  Is  it  nothing  to  the 
friend  of  good  government,  social  order,  law,  and  humanity, 
that  the  problem  of  perpetual  peace  has  at  length  been  solved, 
and  that  these  four  and  twenty  states  have  bound  themselves 


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1830.]  Tone  of  British  Critieim.  31 

together  by  a  mysterious  but  indissoluble  tie  of  union,  which 
preserves  to  them  at  once  the  beneficial  activity  of  independent 
sovereignties  and  the  untroubled  harmony  of  a  single  commu- 
nity ?  Is  it  nothing  to  a  Scotchman — a  friend  of  Erskine— that 
the  Trial  by  Jury  is  to  spread  its  banner  of  protection  oyer  the 
head  of  the  unfortunate,  and  perhaps  innocent  prisoner — ^that 
the  potent  sound  of  Habeas  Corpus^  like  the  sesame  of  the 
Arabian  fable,  is  to  burst  the  doors,  which  arbitrary  power  shall 
have  closed — ^if  such  a  case  should  ever  happen  here — in 
regions  which  might,  and  probably  would,  if  they  had  not  been 
settled  by  Englishmen,  have  been  subjected  to  a  ruthless 
Spanish  despotism  ?  Finally,  is  it  a  matter  of  indifference  to 
the  Christian — this  is  not^  we  are  aware,  an  argumentum  ad 
hominem,  when  addressed  to  the  writers  in  the  Edinburgh 
Review — ^but  is  it,  after  aU,  a  matter  of  indifference  to  the 
firiend  of  pure  and  undefiled  religion  under  any  of  its  forms,' 
that  the  beautiful  feet  of  those  that  bring  good  tidings,  that 
publish  peace,  that  say  unto  Zion,  Thy  God  reigneth,  are 
already  traversing  in  every  direction  the  sandy  shores  of 
the  Atlantic,  the  blue  summits  of  the  AUeghanies,  and  the 
green  savannahs  of  the  West,  that  they  are  climbing  the 
precipices  of  the  Rocky  Ridge,  and  will  soon  reach  the  distant 
Wders  of  the  South  Sea  ?  Is  all  this  world  of  wonders,  this 
magnificent  display  of  the  fiill  bloom  and  glory  of  civilization, 
bursting  forth,  as  it  were  instantaneously,  from  the  depth  of 
barbarism,  like  a  Lapland  spring  out  of  the  icy  bosom  of  win- 
ter, to  be  held  as  nothing,  and  worse  than  nothing,  not  because 
it  is  not  the  work  of  Englishmen — for  that  in  the  main  it  is— 
but  because  it  is  not  performed  by  the  Englishmen,  who  inhabit 
a  little  island  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Adantic  ?  Is  it  not  a 
burning  shame,  a  crying  sin,  that  under  the^influence  of  this 
paltry  motive,  the  greatest  achievements  and  characters  are  to 
be  habitually  depreciated,  the  purest  and  most  amiably  senti- 
ments mocked  and  jeered  at,  and  this  too  by  men  of  high 
pretensions  for  talent,  education,  and  philosophy?  We  know 
not  what  others  n^ay  say  in  answer  to  these  questions,  or  what 
doctrines  and  sentiments  may  be  fashionable  in  the  mother 
country,  where  a  selfish  system  seems  in  fact  to  be  the  order 
of  the  day :  but  for  ourselves,  we  must  avow  without  hesitation, 
that  we  consider  the  tone  of  criticism,  to  which  we  have  here 
alluded,  as  very  strongly  marked  by  bad  principle,  bad  feeling, 
bad  taste,  and  bad  policy*    We  believe  that  our  transadantic 


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32  Tone  of  Britith  Crtiicim.  [July, 

brethren,  who  adopt  it,  are  great  losers  by  it,  on  the  sc(Mre,  not 
only  of  honor  and  conscience,  but  of  national  advantage,  as  well 
as  mere  personal  comfort  and  pleasure.  We  really  thmk  that 
an  Englishman  of  right  feeling  uid  good  understanding,  in- 
stead of  exhibiting  a  miserable  jealousy  of  the  progress  of 
this  great  o&et  from  the  parent  stock,  ought  to  take  as  itiuch 
pride  in  it  as  in  any  of  the  more  direct  developements  of  the 
resources  of  his  coimtry.  We  conceive  that  die  victory  over 
our  western  wilderness,  which  has  been  won  by  English  hands 
and  English  hearts,  ought  to  fill  his  mind  with  as  high  a  satis- 
faction as  the  blockade  of  the  whole  coast  of  the  European 
continent  by  the  British  navy :  and  that  he  ought  to  view  the 
marvellous  increase  of  population  that  is  going  on  among  us, 
the  hitherto  unexampled  multiplication  of  human  life  and  human 
happiness,  which  «is  taking  place,  for  instance,  in  the  State  of 
Ohio,  with  even  more  delight  than  the  glorious  waste  of  blood 
and  treasure  at  Trafalgar  or  Waterloo. 

Of  the  various  attacks  that  have  been  from  tim'e  to  time 
directed  against  this  country  in  the  British  journals,  few,  if 
any,  have  been  more  offensive  to  the  public  feeling  than  the 
article  upon  American  Literature,  which  appeared  in  the 
ninety-ninth  number  of  the  Edinburgh  Review.  The  works 
of  tiie  Rev.  Dr.  Channing,  form  the  immediate  subject  of  it,  and 
its'  principal  aim  appears  to  be  to  depreciate  the  udent  and  de- 
stroy the  reputation  of  this  jusdy  eminent  divine.  Several 
other  writers  of  great  merit  are  also  shewn  up  under  a  ludi- 
crous point  of  view,  and  an  attempt  is  made  to  cast  a  general 
slur  upon  the  intellectual  character  of  the  country.  Ilie  spirit 
in  which  the  article  Is  executed  corresponds  very  well  with  the 
nature  of  its  purpose,  and  is  distingui^ed  by  a  more  than  usual 
portion  of  the  malignant  and  cold  hearted  flippancy,  which  has 
always  been  one  of  the  leading  traits  in  the  s^le  of  this,  in 
many  respects,  valuable  journal.  We  are  not  of  opinion,  that 
it  is  necessary  to  the  honor  of  the  country,  or  the  reputation 
of  die  individuals  particularly  interested,  to  repel  every  attack  of 
this  description.  The  best  and  only  sufficient  reply  to  fweign 
calumny,  is  annually  and  hourly  given  in  the  constandy  pro- 
gressive greatness  and  glory  of  the  United  States.  There 
are,  however,  some  cases  that  seem  to  form  an  exception  to 
this  remark,  and  we  have  been  given  to  understand  that  a 
notice  of  the  article  alluded  to,  would  be  acceptable  to  many 
of  our  readers.    We  could  have  wished,  that  the  task  had 


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1830.]  Tone  of  Britiih  Criticim.  33 

fenen  into  more  competent  hands,  but  shall  cheerfuUy  execute 
it  to  the  best  of  our  ability,  and  shall  endeavor,  if  our  limits 
shotdd  permit,  to  poiilt  out  the  errors  in  one  or  two  other  arti- 
cles of  a  similar  kind,  that  have  lately  appeared  in  other  Brit- 
ish journals. 

The  reviewer  commences  by  remarking,  that  the  only  Amer- 
ican writers  who  have  hitherto  been  heard  of  in  England,  are 
Irving,  Brown,  and  Cooper,  to  whose  names  must  now  be 
added,  that  of  Dr.  Channing.  On  farther  tasking  his  memory, 
it  occurs  to  him  that  there  lived  half  a  century  ago  such  a 
man  as  Dr.  Franklin,  who,  as  the  Quarterly  had  previously 
informed  us,  possessed  some  skill  in  grinding  his  electrical 
machme ;  that  Jonathan  Edwards  wrote  some  rather  remarka- 
ble treatises  on  metaphysics,  and  finally,  that  there  appeared 
in  the  United  States,  just  before  the  revolutionary  war,  an 
adonjnnous  work,  entitled  'A  Farmer's  Letters,'  which  gives  a 
tolerably  correct  description  of  certain  local  scenes  and  inci- 
dents. The  works  of  these  writers  compose,  according  to  the 
reviewer,  the  whole  body  of  American  literature. 

Now  we  have  no  hesitation  in  pronouncing  this  to  be  a  very 
poor  and  silly  piece  of  affectation.  It  is  much  as  if  an  Amer- 
ican, in  giving  a  summary  account  of  British  literature,  should 
say,  that  we  had  heard  in  this  country  of  no  modern  writers  of 
much  distinction  excepting  Scott,  Sfoore,  and  Southey,  and 
more  recently,  Dr.  Chahners  ;  but  that  we  had  reason  to  sup- 
pose, that  Newton  had  made  some  important  discoveries  in 
astronomy  at  the  beginning  of  the  last  century ;  that  *  one 
Locke,'  as  Lord  Sunderland  called  him,  had  published  about 
the  same  time,  a  pretty  valuable  essay  on  the  human  under- 
standing ;  and  finally,  that  there  appeared  in  London,  soon  after 
the  close  of  the  seven  years'  war,  a  very  agreeable  little  collec- 
tion of  letters  on  miscellaneous,  subjects,  published  under  the 
feigned  name  of  '  Fitzosbome.'  This  caricature,  though 
SQmewhat  more  extravagant,  is  in  point  of  taste  and  correct- 
ness, precisely  parallel  to  that  of  the  Review.  To  attempt  to 
remove  An  ignorance,  which  is  obviously  affected,  would  of 
course  be  superfluous,  and  we  shall  therefore  spare  ourselves 
the  trouble  of  completing  this  very  elaborate  catalogue  of 
American  authors.  We  may  remark,  however,  that  kt  the 
moment  when  the  reviewer  was  telling  us,  that  he  could  only 
recollect  the  few  names  above  quoted,  that  of  Jefferson  was 
ringing  through  the  newspapers  of  his  country,  and  filling  the 

vol.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  6 


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ai  Tone  of  British  CrUidm.  [My, 

mouths  of  men  of  science^  taste,  and  liberal  curiosity  ibroiigb- 
out  the  civilized  world.  The  memoirs  and  correspondence  of 
this  iUustrious  statesman,  philosopher,  scholar,  and  author,  were 
probably  on  his  table  at  the  time  when  he  wrote  the  passage  in 

Juestion.  Does  the  reviewer  mean  to  tell  us  that  the  name  of 
efierson  will  not  be  ranked  hereafter  among  the  princq)al 
ornaments  of  the  literature  and  philosophy  of  the  present  day  ? 
Does  he  really  suppose  that  the  author  of  the  declaration  of 
independence  of  die  United  States,  the  Notes  on  Virginia,  and 
the  vast  body  of  political,  literary,  and  scientific  works,  which, 
emanated  from  the  same  prolific  pen,  will  be  eclipsed  in  the 
judgment  of  posterity  by  Hector  St.  Johrij  or  by  either  of  the 
four  writers,  justly  distinguished  as  they  all  are,  whom  the 
critic  has  thought  proper  to  mention  ?  He  ought  to  be  aware^ 
whether  he  is  or  not,  that  Mr.  Jefiferson  wiE  occiqpy  aa  ele^ 
vated  place  in  the  very  highest  order  of  writers — die  one  of 
which  -Cicero  and  Burke  are  the  great  exemplars  in  ancient 
and  modem  times — ^writers,  who  by  combining  literary  and 
active  pursuits,  and  exhibiting  in  both  a  first-rate  talent,  fiir-^ 
nish  in  their  works  the  most  complete  reflection  that  can  pos- 
sibly be  given,  of  the  finished  man.  A  person,  who  could  for- 
get the  name  of  Jefferson  in  the  present  noon*day  of  his  glory, 
and  go  back  half  a  century  to  rake  out  Hector  ot.  John  from 
the  dust  of  his  barn-yard,  would  not  feel  the  difference  be- 
tween Tacitus  and  Tom  Tkuanh,  and  would  have  ta&ed  ta 
you  of  Goody  Two  Shoes  the  morning  after  the  first  publica^ 
tion  of  the  Reflections  on  the  French  Revolution. 

By  the  side  of  the  Memoirs  and  Corres^ndence  of  Jefifer- 
son  lay,  or  should  have  lain,  upon  the  table  of  our  critic,  at  tiie 
time  when  he  was  writing,  among  the  other  new  publications, 
the  first  volume  of  the  American  translation  with  an  accom'-^ 
panying  commentary  of  the  Meeanique  Celeste,  Is  the  name 
of  BowDiTCH  unknown  to  the  countrymen  of  Napier,  Play- 
fair,  and  Leslie?  If  so,  is  it  our  fault  or  theirs  that  they 
are  ignorant  of  the  existence  and  labors  of  one  of  the  first 
mathematicians  of  the  age  ?  It  will  not  s^swer  for  the  critic  to 
teU  us,  that  he  intended  to  limit  his  view  of  our  literature  ta 
the  departments  of  poetry  and  romance,  since  the  very  {mbli*^ 
cation  which  was  immediately  before  him  belongs  to  diat  of 
moral  philosophy.  Charity  itself  requires  that  we  should  com- 
pliment his  memory  and  understanding  at  the  expense  of  his 
honesty,  and  believe  that  his  pretended  ignorance  is,  as  we 
have  akeady  mtimated,  a  mere  piece  of  silly  affectation. 


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1830.]  Tone  cf  British  Critidm.  36 

We  shall  not,  as  we  have  said  before,  undertake  to  complete 
the  catalogue  which  this  writer  has  left  in  so  defective  a  state, 
but  will  mention  a  few  other  names  which  would  naturally  have 
occurred  to  any  person  disposed  to  do'  us  justice,  and  moder- 
ately versed  in  our  political  and  literary  history ;  and  continu- 
ing to  look  at  the  same  great  department  of  science,  to  which 
the  Works  of  Dr.  Channing  and  diose  of  Mr.  Jefierson  belong, 
we  would  venture  to  ask  our  critic  whether,  with  his  universal 
knowledge  of  tnen  and  things,  past,  present,  and  to  come,  hfe 
ever  heard  of  two  such  persons  as  John  Adams  and  John 
QuiNCT  Adams  ?  If  not,  we  have  the  honor  to  apprise  hini, 
that  the  former,  who  under  a  coincidence  of  singularly  beautiful 
and  affecting  circumstances  a  few  years  since  termmated  his 
earthly  pilgrimage — and  the  latter,  who  is  still  living  in  the  full 
vigor  of^  his  powers  and  brightness  of  his  glory,  have  occupied 
successively,  during  their  long  and  brilliant  careers  of  half  a 
century  each,  the  highest  places  m  philosophy,  taste,  and  learn- 
ing, as  well  as  in  the  administration  of  the  government  of  their 
country,  and  the  esteem  of  their  fellow  citizens ;  that  though 
they  were  constantly  engaged  in  the  most  urgent  and  moment- 
ous political  affairs,  creating  constitutions,  representmg  the  peo- 
ple m  legislative  halls  and  foreign  courts,  encountering,  in  short, 
responsibility  and  toil  of  every  description,  until  they  finally 
stood  before  the  world  as  the  elected  Rulers  of  our  great  and 
rising  empire,  they  still  found  leisure — ^like  the  admired  states- 
men and  sages  of  antiquity — ^to  cultivate  letters  in  the  intervals 
of  business— published  voluminous  works,  the  results  of  tho- 
rough researches  into  the  most  intricate  branches  of  political 
philosophy — ^taught  in  our  colleges  the  noble  arts  they  prac- 
tised in  the  Senate,  and  maintained  an  extensive  correspon- 
dence with  most  of  the  distinguished  individuals  of  the  age. 
Of  them  and  their  works  the  reviewer,  according  to  his  own 
account,  is  profoundly  ignorant.  Whedier  his  ignorance,  real 
or  affected,  be  more  discreditable  to  himself  or  to  them,  is  a 
question  which  we  may  safely  leave  to  the  reader  to  decide. 
Again ;  did  our  critic  never  hear  of  Fisher  Ames  ?  If  not, 
we  recommend  to  his  perusal  the  Speech  on  the  British  T^reaty, 
and  the  Eulogy  on  Hamilton.  He  will  soon  perceive  that  the 
views  they  set  forth  are  similar  to  those  that  are  generally 
taken  in  England  on  the  same  subjects ;  and  having  thus  ascer- 
tained that  he  can  praise  them  with  a  good  conscience,  we 
have  little  doubt  that  he  will  admit  them  to  be  fully  equal  to 


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36  .  Tone  of  British  Criiicim.  [Juljr, 

the  most  successful  efforts  of  Cannmg,  or  Mackintosh ;  Hamil- 
ton himself,  with  his  illustrious  fellow  laborers,  Madison  and 
Jay,  the  joint  Numas  of  our  modem  Rome  ;  did  the  reviewer 
never  hear  of  them,  or  does  he  suppose  that  their  works  will 
be  winked  out  of  the  view  of  the  world  by  the  voluntary  blind- 
ness of  an  anonymous  Scotch  journalist  ?  To  take  a  more 
*  modem  instance,'  has  our  critic,  in  the  singular  shortness  of 
his  memory,  forgotten  the  name  of  Robert  Walsh,  who  has 
been  several  times  noticed  with  extraordinary  favor  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review  itself,  has  contributed  to  its  pages,  and 
was  pronounced  by  its  conductors  to  be  one  of  the  best  writers 
in  the  language,  until  he  undertook  the  task  of  defending  his 
country  against  Britbh  slander,  after  which  it  was  pretty  soon 
discovered,  that  he  did  not  write  so  well  as  he  did  before ; 
who  now  publishes  a  review  that  would  be  disparaged  by  being 
placed  (Ml  an  equality  with  most  of  the  leading  English  journals 
of  the  same  description?  We  will  mention  but  one  more 
name,  and  only  furdier  ask,  whether  it  would  not  have  been 
natural  for  one  who  was  taking  a  general  view  of  American 
literature,  in  connexion  with  a  particular  notice  of  the  works 
of  Dr.  Channing,  to  revive  the  recollection  of  his  friend  and 
colleague  in  the  mmistry  of  divine  truth,  the  beloved,  the 
admired,  the  lamented  Buckminster— a  miracle  of  genius, 
cut  off  indeed  in  the  early  morning  of  his  brilliant  promise,  but 
not  till  he  had  produced  works  which  may  well  be  compared 
with  the  mature  efforts  of  the  highest  talents  in  the  same  de- 
partments of  leaming?  His  discourses,  of  which  a  volume  was 
published  soon  after  his  death  in  1813,  and  a  second  has  just 
passed  through  the  press,  are  among  the  most  elegant,  finished, 
and  really  valuable  productions  of  their  class  to  be  found  in 
the  language.  They  combine  the  powerful  thinking  of  the 
English  divines,  more  directly  applied  to  practical  life,  with 
the  fervid  eloquence  of  the  French  school,  chastened  by  the 
purest  and  most  delicate  taste.  With  all  their  merit  they  give 
us,  no  doubt,  as  we  read  them,  a  very  inadequate  idea  of  the 
delightful  effects  which  they  produced,  when  the  impression 
was  aided  by  the  charmmg  intonations,  the  graceful  move- 
ments, and  the  radiant  visage  of  the  accomplished  speaker ; 
but  considered  simply  as  written  sermons,  they  are  undoubt- 
,edly  superior  to  any  that  have  appeared  in  England  since  the 
beginning  of  the  present  century.  To  say  this,  is  giving  them, 
indeed,  but  scanty  praise,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  show,  if  we 


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1830.]  Tone  of  British  Criticism.  87 

had  room  and  ppportunity  to  make  the  comparison,  that  the 
standard  of  pulpit  eloquence,  and  we  n^ay  add,  of  biblical  crit- 
icism and  most  other  branches  of  theology,  is  higher  in  this 
country  than  it  is  in  Great  Britain.  In  these  respects,  we  are 
at  least  sufficiently  advanced  to  know  what  has  been  done  and 
is  doing  on  the  continent  of  Europe,  which  does  not  appear  to 
be  the  case  with  our  worthy  brethren  of  the  *  fast  anchored 
isle.* 

K  the  object  of  the  reviewer,  in  reducing  the  number  of 
American  authors  of  any  reputation  to  three  or  four,  were  to  do 
the  greater  honor  to  those,  whom  he  is  willing  to  acknowledge  as 
such,  his  proceedmg,  if  not  justifiable,  would  be  rather  more  natu- 
ral. We  all  have  our  favorites  among  the  various  pretenders  to 
different  kinds  of  distinction,  and  are  apt  enough,  in  our  par- 
tiality for  those  we  prefer,  to  overlook  the  just  claims  of  others. 
Such,  however,  is  not  the  motive  of  this  writer.  After  limiting 
in  this  way  the  number  of  our  authors,  he  next  proceeds  to  a 
malignant  and  studied  depreciation  of  the  merit  of  those  whom 
he  is  pleased  to  enumerate.  Messrs.  Irving,  Brown,  and  Cooper, 
and  Dr.  Channmg,  are  successively  noticed  in  a  tone  of  insolent 
and  contemptuous  levity,  which  would  suit  well  enough  with  an 
bquiry  into  the  merit  of  a  doubtful  rope-dancer  or  the  rival 
pretensions  of  the  two  Fire-Kings,  but  wnich  really  seems  to  us 
to  be  out  of  place  in  a  discussion  that  involves  the  honor  and 
interest  of  some  of  the  most  highly  gifted  and  respectable  bdi- 
viduals  of  the  day.  Messrs.  Irving  and  Cooper—ralthough  not 
precisely  of  equal  pretensions — ^stand,  as  our  readers  do  not 
require  to  be  informed,  quite  at  the  head  of  polite  literature. 
Their  reputation  and  popularity  are  not  confined  to  England 
and  the  United  States,  but  extend  through  the  civilized  world. 
With  the  exception  of  a  few  veterans  in  the  wane  of  tlieir 
powers,  though  still  in  the  fulness  of  their  fame,  such  as  Goethe 
and  Chateaubriand  on  the  continent,  and  Scott,  Moore,  Southey, 
ami  some  others  in  England,  that  properly  belong  to  ariotlier 
generation,  we  really  know  no  writers,  who,  in  the  line  in  which 
they  labor  and  excel,  can  come  in  competition  with  our  distin- 
guished countrymen.  Their  emmence  is  not  the  passing  effect 
of  an  accidental  burst  of  popular  favor,  obtained  by  low  and 
unworthy  arts,  but  rests  securely  on  the  labors  and  successes  of 
a  series  of  years.  Dr.  Channing,  on  the  other  hand,  though  at 
present  somewhat  less  extensively  known,  possesses  claims  to 
r^pect  of  a  still  higher  order,  resultmg  from  a  still  more  marked 


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86  Tone  of  Britith  Critiekm.  {Jdy, 

superiorily  of  talenti  and  enbanoed  by  the  sacred  aatam  of  his 
calling  aad  the  exemplary  purity  of  his  life.  The  delieocy, 
which  we  deem  it  proper  to  obserre  in  speakiiig  of  a  living 
character,  a  neighbor,  and  a  personal  friend,  prevents  us  from 
dwelling  so  nuich  as  we  should  otherwise  glftdly  do  upon  tbe 
merits  df  this  divine.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  if  first-rate  powers, 
directed  with  a  steady,  unwearied,  and  enthusiasdc  effi>rt  lo  llie 
promotion  of  the  noblest  ends  by  the  noblest  means,  can  entitfe 
a  man  to  the  gratitude  of  others,  Dr.  ChanMig  has  a  &ir  right 
to  claim  that  distinction.  We  are  happy,  for  the  honor  of  otar 
country,  to  add,  that  die  public  favor  has,  in  this  case  at  leasts 
been  awarded  with  discernment,  and  that  few,  if  aooiy,  of  oiar 
citizens,  are  more  admired  ai^  respected  by  all  classes  of  the 
community. 

Such  are  the  persons,  whose  literary  merits  are  the  sufajeet 
of  discussion  in  the  article  before  us.  Let  us  now  see  the  man* 
ner  in  which  they  are  treated. 

Mr.  Irving^  who  had  hitherto  "been  petted,  and,  as  it  were, 
clapped  on  the  back  by  these  sturdy  censors,  is  now  '  deficient 
in  nerve  and  origmality,'  he  ^brought  nothing  widi  him  from 
home,'  and  his  sketches,  ^en  in  England,  are  only  *  copies 
of  our  favorite  authors'—^  patterns,  taken  on  silk  paper  mmi 
our  classic  writers^'  The  applause  bestowed  upon  his  works^ 
was  not  so  much  a  tribute  to  his  merit,  as  an  acknowledgment, 
of  the  assiduous  homage,  with  which,  he  courted  the  favor  of 
the  British  public.  '  He  gasped  for  British  popularity.'  *  The 
nati^mal  polUeness  (9)  owed  him  some  return,  for  he  imitated, 
admired,  deferred  to  us^  and  was  ready  to  mcrifice  every  thing 
to  obt^  a  smile  or  a  look  of  approbation.'  Such  is  the  liberal 
construction  put  by  the  critic  upon  the  amiable  and  romantic, 
but  perfectly  honest  and  even  natural  delusion  in  regard  to  the 
refinement  and  generosity  of  die  British  aristocracy,  under 
which  Mr.  Irving  appears  to  have  labored  on  his  arrival  in 
England,  and  which  certainly  gave  a  false  coloring  to  many 
parages  in  the  second  series  of  his  writings. 

Mr.  Cooper  is  treated  with  still  less  cei^emony.  He  is  ^  the 
drudge  of  his  materials,'  he  '  labors  under  an  epUepsy  of  the 
fancy,'  he  is  '  not  aware  of  the  infinite  divisibility  of  mind 
and  matter.'  Is  the  reviewer,  by  the  bye,  quite  certain  himself 
of  the  truth  of  this  jnineiple  as  respects  die  former  substance  ? 
He  '  anatomizes  his  subjects' — ^  he  runs  riot  in  an  account  of 
l;be  dishes  at  a  boarding-house,  as  if  it  were  a  banquet  of  the 


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1830.]  Tone  of  JSn^A  Critieim.  a» 

gods,  and  recouikta  llie  overtuming  of  a  slage^waggon  with  as 
much  uapetucM»ty,  tiMrbulence,  aad  exaggerated  enlhustasm,  ma 
if  it  were  the  &U  of  Pbaetoa.'  One  of  hia  works  is,  however, 
a  masterpieee,  but  tbe  merit  ei^es  of  this  appears  to  resuk  in  a 
§^eat  Boeasure  fix)m  idbe  ck^umstuice  of  ils  containing  a  single 
fine  description.  And  what,  gentle  reader,  do  y<m  suppose 
to  be  the  subject  of  this  description,,  which  has  die  eflfeet  of 
elevating  one  of  these  abortions  of  an  epileptic  fancy  into  s 
literary  eh^^^cEMvre'f  Neither  more  nor  less  than  the  ^white^ 
topsail  of  ap  Enghsh  man-oC-wa^.'  ^The  description  of  the 
guiding^  oi  the  vessel;  by  the  Pilot  through  the  narrow  strait  left 
{sr  her  eseafte,  the  sea>-fight,  and  the  incident  of  the  white 
topeaU  of  ^  Eenglish  manrof-war  appearing  above  the  fbg, 
where  it  is.  first  mistaken  for  a  cloud,  are  of  the  first  order  of 
§^faphic  eomposidon.  7^  reet  is  commonplaceJ  Our  critic 
traverses  in  the  wake  of  his-  adventurous  author  a  thousand 
leagues  of  land  and  padiless  ocean— -numberless  incidenta  and 
ch^geaofmany-eolored  hfe  invite  hist  attention  without  succesis» 
Ti&  all  barren  because  'tis  all  foeeignv  But  no  sooner  does  the 
'whif:e  topsail  of  an  Eii^ish  man-of-war'  rise  upon  his<&ncy^ 
likei^  the  wdeom^  vision-  of  the  Heavenly  Twins  tqpon  die  weary 
eyes  of  the  tesiqpest-tos^  mariners  in  Horace,  than,  all  is  weU, 
and  he  is  ready  to;  es^^aim  wkh  honest  Lamy  in  the  Absentee, 
'  There  ^^ke  the  true  thing — how  my  own  heart^s^  satii^d.' 
'  JTue  rest  ia  eemmonplctee.* 

This  we  think  excellent.  We  know  nothing  better  in  the 
same  way,  unless  it  be  a  subsequent  passage -in  the  article  in 
which  the  reviewer  represents  hunseli  as  having  heard  or  said 
beforehand  all  the  good  things  in:  Dr.  Channing's  Essay  on 
AGlton.  '  Our  autix^s  criticisms  Iseem  to  be  in  a  great  meai^ 
sure  borrowed  firom  our  own  lucubrations.'  *  All  this  we  have 
heard  or  said  before.  We  are  not  edified  at  all,  nor  are  we 
greatly  flattered  by  it.  It  is  as  if  we  should  convey  a  letter  to 
a  friend  in  America,  and  should  find  it  transcribed  and  sent 
back  to  us  with  ai  heavy  postage.'  Our  reviewer,  whatever 
may  ho;  his.  other  enocs,  can  hardly  be  charged  with  hiding  his 
light  und^r  a  bushel.  Montesquieu  tells  us  in  one  of  his  Per- 
sian letters,  that  <xi  a  idsit  to  a  friend -s  house  in  the  country,  he 
met  with  two  persoos  who^alked  more  than  the  restiof  the  com<^ 
pany.  The  conversation  of  one  resolved  itself  into  this  phrase, 
Cda  estvraiparoe^pteje  Tat  Js^^^-^  that  is  tru6,  for  I  have  said 
as  much  myself ;'  tbatf  of  the  other  into  the  following;  Cete 


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40  Tone  of  BritUh  Criticism.  [Jtiljr, 

ft? est  pas  vfaiparcequeje  iie  Vaipas  dit — *  that  cannot  be  true, 
for  I  never  said  any  such  thing.'  The  fonner  was  considered 
a  pleasant  fellow,  while  the  other  passed  for  an  insufferable 
coxcomb.  Our  critic  employs  the  converse  of  the  first  of  these 
forms.  Cda  est  vrai,  done  je  Pai  dit^^^^  that  is  true,  therefore 
I  said  it  myself.'  He  has  not  the  most  remote  conception  that 
any  body  else  in  the  world  can  originate  a  good  thing.  If  there 
be  a  bright  thought  in  Dr.  Channing's  Essay  on  Milton,  it  was 
of  course  borrowed  from  the  article  on  the  same  subject  which 
appeared  about  the  same  time  in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  al- 
though the  latter  unluckily  did  not  reach  this  country  until  after 
Dr.  Channing's  was  published.  Talleyrand,  upon  reading  one 
day  in  a  newspaper  some  new  repartee,  which  was  attribut- 
ed, as  usual,  to  himself,  is  said  to  have  exclaimed^  Voila 
encore  un  bon  moty  que  je  suis  bien  aise  d^avoir  dit.  The 
reviewer,  we  think,  might  say  aa  much  with  great  propriety 
m  the  present  instance,  for  Dr.  Channing's  article,  wherever 
it  may  have  come  from,  is  die  better  of  the  two.  With  equal 
simplicity  he  firmly  believes,  that  aU  the  books  that  are  pub- 
lished throughout  the  world  are  intended  solely  and  exclusively 
for  the  perusal  of  his  fraternity,  and  if  they  contain  any  allusion 
to,  or  extract  from  '  the  Review,'  they  are  thus  far  in  the  na- 
ture of  a  letter,  which  returns  to  its  writer  with  the  burden  of 
double  postage.  With  all  this,  our  critic  can  talk  very  point- 
edly and  properly  in  the  same  article  on  the  folly  of  selfishness. 

*  This  paltry  self  looking  upon  itself  as  of  more  importance 
than  all  the  rest  of  the  world,  fancies  itsdf  the  centre  of  the 
universe,  and  would  have  every  one  else  look  upon  it  in  the 
same  light.'  We  entirely  agree  in  the  doctrine  here  stated  by 
this  writer,  which  is  so  distinctly  expressed  as  to  relieve  us 
from  the  trouble  of  seeking  epithets,  to  characterize  his  prac- 
tice. 

So  much  for  the  manner  in  which  Messrs.  Irving  and 
Cooper,  and  in  part  Dr.  Channing,  are  treated  in  the  •  article 
before  us.  As  respects  the  last  of  these  writers,  he  not  only 
borrows  all  his  good  sayings  from  the  Edinbivgh  Review,  but 
'  endeavors  to  trim  to  all  opinions  and  unite  «J1  suffirages,' — 

*  calculates  the  vulgar  clamor  and  veiial  sophistry  of  the  British 
press  for  the  meridian  of  Boston,' — ^  keeps  an  eye  to  both 
worlds,  kisses  hands  to  the  reading  public  all  round,  and  does  his 
best  to  stard  weD  with  all  the  dif^rent  sects  and  parties.'  *  He 
is  a  Unitarian,  but  disclaims  all  connexion  with  Dr.  Priestley  as 


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1830.]  Tone  of  British  Criticism.  41 

a  materialist ;  he  denounces  Calvinism  and  the  Church  of  Eng- 
land, but  to  show  that  this  proceeds  from  no  want  of  liberality, 
makes  the  amende  honorable  to  Popery  and  Popish  divines — 
is  an  American  Republican  and  a  IVench  Bourbonist — abuses 
Bonaparte,  and.  observes  a  profound  silence  with  respect  to 
Ferdinand.'  '  He  likes  toit,  provided  it  is  serioiis.^  Because 
he  speaks  of  Milton,  Bacon,  and  Shakspeare,  as  superior  in 
the  order  of  intellect  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Admiral 
Nelson,  he  is  compared  to  Abraham  Adams,  in  Fielding's 
novel,  who  ^  thought  a  schoolmaster  the  greatest  character  in 
the  world,  and  himself  the  greatest  of  all  schoohpasters  ;'  and 
is  represented  as  ^gravely  dividing  greatness  into  different 
sorts,  and  placing  himself  at  the  top.'  Finally,  he  is  a  ^pre- 
tender of  the  stamp  of  those,  who  think  that  there  is  no  reason 
why  they  should  not  do  all  that  others  can,  and  a  great  deal 
more  into  the  bargain.' 
Thus  much  for  his*  personal  character.  As  to  his  writings ; — 

*  We  like  his  sermons  ^est — ^bis  criticisms  less — his  politics  least 
of  aU.'  It  would  seem  from  other  passages,  that  the  best  is  bad 
enough.  Even  as  a  preacher,  his  '  style  is  tedious*,  and  his  argu- 
ments trite.'  *  He  is  prolix  without  suspecting  it — ^lays  a  solemn 
stress  on  the  merest  trifles — ^repeats  truisms  and  apologises  for 
them  as  startling  discoveries — splays  the  sophist,  and  conceives 
that  he  is  performing  a  sacred  duty.'  The  *  general  feature'  that 
distinguishes  his  works  is  '  ambitious  commonplace,'*  ^  He  takes 
up  the  newest  and  most  plausible  opinion  at  the  turn  of  the  tide, 
or  just  as  it  is  getting  into  vogue,  and  would  fain  arrogate  both 
the  singularity  and  the  popularity  of  it  to  himself.'  '  His  account 
of  Milton  is  a  mere  imitation  or  amplification  of  what  has  been 
said  by  others,'  which  others  are,  as  we  have  seen,  afterwards 
explained  to  be  the  critic  himself.  '  His  style  is  good,  though 
in  general  too  labored,  formal,  and  constrained.  All  is  brought 
equally  forward — ^nothing  Is  left  to  tell  for  itself.  In  the  at- 
tempt to  be  copious,  he  is  tautological — in  striving  to  explain 
6very  thing,  he  overloads  and  obscures  his  meaning.  The  fault 
is  the  uniform  desire  to  produce  effect,. and  the  supposition  that 
this  is  to  be  done  by  main  force.'  *  His  politics  are  borrowed 
from  others,. and  are  grounded  on  misrepresentations  and  false- 
hoods.' The  '  ugly  mask,^  which  once  concealed  from  the 
world  the  true  character  of  Bonaparte,  has,  it  seems,  been 

*  taken  off  in  England,'  but  Dr.  Channing  chooses  to  lecture 
on  the  '  mask  in  preference  to  the  head.' 

VOL,  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  6 


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43  Tone  of  British  Critidm.  [July, 

Now  we  must  assume  that  every  journal  of  the  character 
and  pretensions  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  bas  for  its  object, 
in  profession  at  least,  if  not  in  practice  and  reality,  to  promote 
good  taste  in  letters,  and  good  principles  in  the  conduct  of  life. 
This  being  supposed,  we  would  venture  to  ask  whether  the 
prevalence  of  good  taste  is  promoted  by  a  studied  depreciation 
of  the  merits  of  the  best  writers  of  the  time,  or  that  of  good 
principles  by  treating  the  ministers  of  religion  and  the  most 
enlightened,  active,  and  ardent  friends  of  humanity  with  open 
insult,  merely  "because  they  happen  to  reside  in  a  foreign  coun- 
try. It  is  not  our  purpose  to  attempt  to  fix  on  this  occasion 
the  precise  value  of  the  literary  labors  of  the  distmguished  per- 
sons alluded  to,  and  we  shall  therefore  not  undertake  to  exam- 
ine whether  there  be  or  be  not  any  real 'foundation  for  some 
or  all  of  the  charges  here  made  against  them.  They  doubt^ 
less  have,  like  all  other  men,  their  weak  points,  and  this  critic 
would  have  proved  himself  to  be  as  stupid,  as  he  is  malignant, 
which  is  not  exactly  the  case,  if  he  had  jpot  selected  these  *as 
the  basis  of  some  at  least  of  his  caricatures.  Others,  as  we 
shall  presently'  see,  are  so  entirely  destitute  of  any  resemblance 
to  the  features  of  tbe  originals,  that  they  must  necessarily  pass, 
for  mere  fancy-piecfes.  But  without  pretending  to  reiute,  or 
even  examine  in  detail  any  of  these  objections — without  wish- 
ing to  exempt  these  writers  fi-om  the  full  severity  of  a  just  and 
legitimate  criticism, — ^we  confine  our  view  at  present  entirely  to 
the  tone  and  temper  of  the  article, — ^about  which,  after  the  ex- 
tracts we  have  given,  the  reader  will  perceive  that  there  can 
be  no  dispute, — and  we  ask  again  whajt  advantage  results  to  the 
cause  of  good  taste  and'good  morals  firom  assailing  the  best 
writers  and  the  best  men  with  wanton  outrage  ?  Is  it  fair,  just, 
gratefiil^  or  honorable  to  reward  in  this  way,  the  labors,  the 
studies,  the  privations  of  every  kind,  which  areincident  to  the 
literary  profession  ?  The  principle  of  genius  is  a  keen  sensi- 
bility, which  renders  its  possessor  uncommonly  susceptible  to 
all  impressions,  and  incapacitates  him,  as  it  were,  fix>m  bearing 
up  with  equanimity  under  the  toils  and  troubles  that  enter  so 
largely  into  even  the  common  lot  of  humanity, — Bftid  are  those 
whose  occupation  it  is  to  ciiltivate  and  encourage  letters,  to 
add  to  these  troubles  theJ  '  slings  and  arrows'  of  unprovoked 
calunmy  ?  The  delicate  texture  of  a  poetical  imagination  is  not 
proof  against  such  treatment,  which  has  often  been  fatal  to  the 
peace,  die  happiness,  the  life  itself  of  those  who  have  suffered 


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1830.]  Tone  of  Britiih  CriticiM.  43 

it.  It  was  said  by  Racine,  that  he  had  received  more  pain 
fr<»n.  a  single  unjust  criticism,  than  pleasure  from  all  the  praise 
that  had  ever  been  bestowed  upon  him  ;  a^d  it  is  commonly 
reported,  that  he  died  of  the  effects  of  a  reprimand  from  his 
sovereign.  A  modem  critic  remarks,  that  it  was  a  great  piece 
of  folly  in  so  wise  a  man,  to  allow  himself  to  be  so  much 
affected  by  so  slight  a  cause  ;  but  he  did  not  recollect  that  if 
Racine  had  been  so  c<Kistituted  as  to  support  with  bdifference 
the  attacks  of  critics  and  the  displeasure^  of  Louis  XIV.  be 
could  not  possibly  have  written  his  exquisite  tragedies.  Did 
our  reviewer  remember  when  he  aimed  at  the  probity  of  Mr. 
Irving,  the  false  and  wanton  insinuaticms,  or  rather  assertions, 
which  we  have  quoted  above,  that,  coming  from  such  a  quarter, 
they  would  necessarily  poison  for  a  time  the  peace  of  one  of 
the  purest  and  most  amiable,  as  well  as  ingenious  men  now 
living  ?  Was  this  a  natural  return  for  the  pleasure  which  he  has 
given  to  us  all*-including  his  cynical  calumniator-**-by  the 
charming  creations, 'with  which  his  fine  genius  has  for  so  many 
years  peopled  the  monotonous  pathway  of  every-day  life  ?  Or 
even  if  we  choose  to  consider  the  whole  business  of  polite  lite- 
rature as  mere  sport,  and  those  who  cultivate  it,  as  voluntarily 
exposmg  themselves  to  be  treated  with  a  wanton  and'  insolent 
levity,  which  they  are  to  receive  as  mere  pleasantry,  and  re- 
quite in  kiad,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  taste  and  principles  of 
those  who  sport  in  the  same  way  with  the  sacred  subject  of 
religion  and  its  teachers  ?  -  These  may  be  supposed  indeed  to 
be  comparatively  indiferent  to  unjust  attacks.  Their  objects 
are  of  a  loftier  and  purer  kbd  than  thoise  of  the  merely  literary 
man,  and  raise  them  above  the  sphere  of  popular  applause  and 
censure,  in  which  the  other  hves,  and  moves,  and  has  his  being, 
— above  the  ordinary  accidents  of  life.  Like  their  sublime  Mas- 
t^,  when  fixed  to  the  cross  in  the  fatal  hour  of  his  last  agony, 
they  can  pray  for  their  spiteful  and  malignant  persecutors,  as 
mistaken  wretches,  who  kn^w  not  what  they  do.  But  the 
same  reascms,  which  render  the  minister  of  religion,  who  truly 
feels  the  spirit  of  his  calling,  superior  to  the  influence -of  ca- 
lumny, impose  upon  others  with  tenfold  force  the  duty  of  treat- 
ing him  in  the  interest  of  society  with  marked  respect.  We 
are  willing  to  believe,  and  do  in  fact  thmk  it  probable,  that  the 
critic  was  not  aware  of  the  extraordinary  purity  and  excellence 
of  the  charactw  of  Dr.  Channing,  when  he  ventured  to,  assault 
him  in  this  unmanly  ^le,  but  it  is  obvious  that  the  reverencei 


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44  Tone  of  British  Criiicistn.,  [July? 

which  is  habitually  cherished  by  all  right-miDded  persons  fw 
every  thing  connected  with  religion,  in  the  absence  of  any 
more  particular  motive,  ought  to,  and  would,  if  he  had  felt  it, 
have  restrained  his  petulance. 

It  is  not  our  intention,  as  we  remarked  above,  to  discuss  in 
detail  the  objections  that  are  made  to  tlie  liierar)^  and  moral 
characters  of  our  distinguished  countrymen  m  the  article  before 
us,  but  we  will  here  barely  mention,  without  enlarging  upon 
them,  one  or  two  very  extrciordinary  inconsistencies  between 
the  statements  of  the  critic,  and  the  real  facts  of  the  case, 
Mr.  Irving  is  represented  as  enturely  deficient  in  images  and 
*  feelings  of  American  origin — *  he  brought '  with  him  no  new 
earth,  no  sprig  of  laurel  gathered  in  the  vfildemess,  no  red 
bird's  wmg,  no  gleam  from  crystal  lake,  or  new-discovered 
fountain,  neither  grace  nor  grandeur  plucked  from  the  bosom  of 
this  Eden  state,  like  that  which  belongs  to  cradled  infancy — 
but  he  brought  us  rifacdamentos  of  our  pwn  thoughts— copies 
of  our  favorite  authors.'  Now  all  this,  which  is  prettily,  though 
somewhat  affectedly,  expressed,  happens  to  be  exactly  the  re- 
verse of  the  truth.  The  best  parts  of  Mr.  Irving's  works  are 
those  in  which  he  has  drawn  his  inspiration  wholly  from  Ameri- 
can sources,  and  those  of  which  the  scene  is  laid  abroad,  though 
oftien  beautiful,  are  uniformly  feebler  than  the  fonfter.  Such 
has  been  and  is  the  general  opinion  of  competent  judges,  and, 
what  our  critic  will  consider  as  more  to  the  point,  of  the  writers 
in.  the  Edinburgh  ^Review.  In  a  very  favorable  notice  of  the 
Sketch  Book,  which  appeared  in  that  journal,  some  articles  were 
recommended,  and  in  part  quoted,  as  more  particularly  interest- 
mg,  of  which  the  proininent  one  was  Rip  Van  Winkle.  It 
^appears,  therefore,  diat  the  first  bouquet  which  Mr.  Irving  pre- 
sented to  the  British  public,  contained  a  '  sprig  of  laurel,'  which 
he  had  bifought  with  him  from,  home,  and  which  was  pronounced 
at  once  by  these  fastidiou$  critics,  to  be  the  prettiest  thing  in 
the  bunch.  In  their  notices  of  his  subsequent  works,  the  pas- 
sages founded  on  American  scenery  and  manners,  have  always 
been  selected  as  the  most  striking  and  spirited.  So  obvious 
indeed  is  the  superiority  of  these  to  the  rest,  that  we  have  no 
hesitation  in  regarding  them  as  the  -life  oif  the  collections  m 
which  they  appear,  the  attic  salt  as  it  were^  that  gave  vitality, 
freshness,  and  taste  to  the  otherwise  somewhat  insipid  com- 
pound. Mr.  Irving  had  gathered  on  his  native  soil,  and  before 
he  ever  saw  Europe,  not  merely  *  sprigs  of  laurel,'  but  garlands 


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1830.]  Tom  of  British  Critidm.  45 

far  more  healAy  and  more  likely  to  endure  than  those  which  he 
afterwards  plucked  in  tlie  conservatories  of  England.  Hig 
Knickerbocker,  on  the  whole  the  most  powerful  and  original  of 
all  his  productions,  is  wholly  American.  Every  line  of  it  is 
*  new  earth  and  red  bird's  wing.'  In  Salmagundi  there  were 
occasionally  imitations  of  Addison  and  Goldsmith,  and  the  plan 
was  copied  from  diat  of  the  Spectator,  but  even  here  the  best 
things  are  of  native  origin.  The  Little  Man  in  Black  is  not, 
as  far  as  we  recollect,  described  in  *  our  stock-books  of  a  cen- 
tury ago,'  nor  have  we  seen  any  account  of  the  American  /o- 
gocractfj  the  Tunisian  ambassador's  wardrobe,  or  the  plea- 
sures of  a  tour  to  Saratoga  Springs  by  *the  wits  of  Queen 
Anne.'  When  Mr.  Irving  went  to  Europe,  he  carried  with  him, 
as  we  have  jiist  seen,  sundry  sprigs  of  laurel,  a  little  nursery,  in 
fact,  of  wild  flowers,  which  he  mingled  in  somewhat  sparmg 
proportions  with  those  of  foreign  growth,  that  he  .collected  on 
his  way,  but  which  were  constantly  noticed  as  the  pride  of  his 
nosegay.  The  red  bird's  wing  was  always  the  most  conspicu- 
ous plume  in  hi$  bonnet.  But  we  did  not  find  him  putting 
forth  all  his  power  until  he  employed  himself  again  in  his  Co- 
lumbus upon  a  subject  exclusively  and  strictly  American* 
Does  our  critic  find  no  *  gleam  of  crystal  lake,  or  new-discov- 
ered fountain,  neither  grace  nor  grandeur  plucked  from  the 
bosom  of  an  Eden  state,  like  that  of  cradled  infancy,'  in  the 
charming  descriptions  which  Mr.  Irving  has  given  us  of  the 
indolent,  luxurious  Paradise  of  the  natives  of  Haiti?  Why, 
this  very  writer,  or  one  of  his  fraternity,  employed,  but  a  short 
time  since,  almost  the  same  language  in  telling  us  what  Mr. 
Irving's  style  is,  that  he  now  employs  with  the  insertion  of  a 
negative  in  telKng  us  what  jt  is  not.  This  is  really  too  bad. 
Mr.  Irving's  sketches  in  England  are,  as  we  have  hinted  above, 
comparatively  feeble.  By  affecting  to  represent  these  as  the 
only  things  which  he  has  done  that  are  worth  attention,  and 
throwing  out  of  view  the  whole  of  his  best  and  most  spirited 
productions,  the  reviewer  is  able  to  make  him  out  a  mere  tame 
copyist  of  the  British  classics,  with  some  degree  of  plausibility ; 
with  how  much  candor,  we  leave  it  for  our  readers  to  judge. 

An  inconsistency  with  fact,  not  less  glaring  than  that  which 
we  have  just  noticed,  occurs  in  the  account  of  Dr.  Channing, 
the  prominent  trait  in  whose  character,  according  to  this  wri- 
ter, is  a  disposition  to  '  trim  to  all  opinions,  and  keep  well  with 
all  parties  at  the  same  time.'     Such  is  the  picture.;  but  how 


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46  Tone  of  Britiih  Criticim.  [July, 

stands  the  fact?  Dr.  Chaimmg,  as  our  readers  are  generally 
aware,  is  the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  Unitarian  sect,  as  m 
as  there  can  be  leaders  in  a  communion  of  which  the  officiat- 
ing clergymen  are  all  on  a  footing  of  perfect  equality.  Far 
from  making  a  secret  of  his  opinions,  he  habitually  declares 
them  with  a  degree  of  fearlessness,  which  some  of  his  friends 
consider  imjHiident.  Now  the  Unitarian  sectr— although  it  in* 
chides  perhaps,  in  proportion  to  its  numbers,  as  large  a  share  of 
the  talent,  virtue,  and  respectabiUty  of  the  country  as  any  other, 
— is  doubtless  among  them  all  the  one,  which  has  the  least  pre- 
tensions to  popularity.  It  is  in  fact  one,  which,  as*all  who  are 
capable  of  looking  at  the  subject  philosophically  well  know, 
from  the  nature  of  its  tenets  never  can  be  popular.  It  is  one 
which  scrutinizes  text&— estimates  the  value  of  manuscripts  and 
editions— balances  the  authority  of  conflictmg  passages,  and 
consequendy  addresses  itself  to  a  very  limited  portion  of  the 
oommunity :  fer  such  a  portion  only  have  the  means  and  leisure 
to  pursue  these  inquiries.  We  may  go  further,  and  affirm  with 
sa/e^,  not  only  that  the  Unitarians  are  not  a  popular  sect,  but 
that  they  are  decidedly  the  most  unpopular  of  all.  They  are 
habitualfy  denounced,  both  here  and  in  England,  by  those  who 
respect  and  love  them  mdividuallv,  as  unbelievers,  deists,  and 
sometimes  atheists.  The  state  of  the  case  is  therefore  simply 
this :  Dr.  Channing  stands  forth  openly  and  fearlesdy  before 
the  world  as  the  leading  champion  of  a  decried,  suspected,  and 
unpopular  class  of  Christians.  It  ia  no  part -of  our  busmess  to 
inqmre  into  the  justice  of  the  suspicions  entertained  of  the 
Unitarians,  which  may  or  may  not  have  a  reascmable  foundation. 
The  fact  is  undoubtedly  as  we  have  stated  it.  What,  then, 
does  the  reviewer  mean, — ^wfaat  can  he  mean, — by  representing 
Dr.  Channing  as  a  time-server,  ^o  trims  to  all  opinions,  and 
keeps  well  with  all  parties?  Is  it  trimming  to  all  opinions  to 
espouse  a  particular  one,  and  maintain  it  with  so  much  energy, 
doquence,  and  consistency,  as  to  be  considered  the  leader  and 
ehainpion*  of  those  who  hold  it?  Is  it  keeping  well  with  all 
parties  to  oppose  and  defy  them  all  except  a  particular  one, 
and  that  the  nnallest  and  most  unpopular  among  them  ?  In  his 
cootroverrial  wridngs,  Dr.  Channmg  has  no  doubt  unifcnmly 
observed  the  decorum,  \^ich  belongs  to  his  character  and  feel- 
ings, as  well  as  to  his  positicm,  and  hais  treated^his  opponents  with 
perfect  liberality ;  but  we  venture  to  hope  that  the  observance  of 
the  ordinary  courtesies  of  life  does  not.  make  a  man  oai  to  be  a 


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18Sa]  Tfme  of  Britiih  Criticism.  49 

time'serrer  and  a  trimmer.  If  it  did,  by  the  bye,  we  think  we 
could  safelj  assure  the  writer  of  the  article  before  us,  that  he 
would  never  be  considered  as  obnoxious  to  those  qualifications 
In  ^ort,  the  charges  here  made  against  Dr.  Channing  are  so 
obviously  and  palpably  at  variance  with  his  position  in  the  world, 
they  attribute  to  him  a  character  so  entirely  the  reverse  of  that 
which  he  notcM*iously  bears,  that  it  is  somewhat  difficult  to 
imagine  how  the  idea  of  them  could  have  gained  admission  into 
the  reviewer's  mind  in  connexion  with  his  name.  The  making 
of  them  supposes,  no  doubt,  an  aknost  complete  ignorance  df 
the  reputation  and  standmg  of  the  author  whose  works  he  under- 
took to  cut  up,  as  well  as  a  criminal  readiness  to  scoff  at  things 
and  persons  which  aD  good  men  regard  with  reverence ;  but  it 
also  supposes,  we  think,  the  existence  of  some  particular  motive 
which  operated  in  this  case,  to  give  a  bias  to  the  mmd  of  the 
reviewer,  which,  under  other  circumstances,  it  could  not  weD 
have  taken. 

It  appears,  in  fact,  from  the  tenor  of  the  article,  that  there 
was  such  a  motive,  the  nature  pf  Which  is  indicated  with  suffi- 
cient clearness  in  the  closing  sentence  of  the  extracts  given 
above.  The  'ugly  mask'  which  for, a  time  concealed  from 
the  world  the  character  of  Bonaparte,  has,  it  seems,  been 
taken  off  m  England ;  but  '  Dr.  Channing  continues  to  lecture 
on  the  mask  in  preference  to  the  head.'  Dr.  Channing,  hsus 
publidied,  nnder  the  form  of  a  review  of  Scott's  Napoleon, 
a  powerful  analysis  of  the  intellectual  and  moral  character 
of  that  personage,  which,  according  to  the  notions  of  the 
reviewer,  is  not  sufficiently  favorable  to  the  *  Man  of  Destiny.' 
The  supposed  injustice  done  to  his  favorite  hero,  seenis  to  be 
the  source  of  the  particular  .disgust  which  the  reviewer  has 
taken  towards  our  distinguished  countr)rman ;  and  the  supposed 
inconsistency  between  a  love  of  liberty  and  a  dislike  of  Bona- 
parte, appears  to  be  the  real  foundation  for  the  charge  made 
upon  him,  of  trimming  between  opposite  cqmiions,  and  keepmg 
well  with  all  parties. 

Now,  supposing  even  that  Dr.  Channing  had  in  some  degree 
mistaken  the  character  of  Bonaparte,  we  cannot  admit  that  this 
would  at  all  justify  the  critic  in  his  outrageous  attack ;  but, 
independendy  of  this  consideration,  we  must  also  remark,  that, 
according  to  our  judgment,  the  mistake  on  this  subject,  if 
there  be  any,  is  on  the  other  side.  We  cannot  perceive  that 
any  material  mjustice  is  done  to  the  celebrated  Corsican  in 


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48  Tone  of  British  Criticum.  U^Jt 

the  Doctor's  article.  We  greatly  doubt  the  fact,  so  positively 
afiirraed  by  the  reviewer,  that  the  *  ugly  mask,'  which  was  for- 
merly supposed  to  be  the  face  of  Bonaparte,  has  been  taken  off 
in  England.  We  have  seen  no  authentic  account  of  any  such 
operation.  The  meanbg  of  this  language  in  plain  English — ^if 
it  mean  any  thing — is,  that  Napoleon  was  at  one  time  considered 
as  a  tjnrant,  a  usurper,  and  an  enemy  of  liberty,  but  that  the 
public  opinion  on  this  subject  has  been  since  changed,  and  that 
he  is  now  better  thought  of,  perhaps  approved,  lamented,  and 
admired ;  for  we  are  not  informed  how  far  the  reviewer  means 
to  proceed  in  his  hero's  apotheosis.  Now  we  are  free  to  con- 
fess, as  respects  ourselves,  that  we  have  no  knowledge  of  any 
such  revolution  in  the  public  opinion  upon  this  subject,  and  we 
believe  that  we  may  say  the  same  for  most  of  our  countiymen. 
On  this  side  the  water,  Napoleon  is  still  the  same  tyrant, 
usurper,  and  enemy  of  liberty,  that  he  always  was  5  and  Dr. 
Channing,  in  representing  him  under  this  point  of  view,  has 
expressed  the  feeling  of  the  great  mass  of  his  fellow-citizens,  as 
well  as  his  own.  We  know  that  a  mask  was  removed  from  his 
character  some  time  before  his  death — ^not,  however,  by  any 
means  an  ugly  mask,  but^  on  the  contrary,  a  brilliant  and  daz- 
zling one,  like  the  silver  veil  of  the  Prophet  in  Moore's  poem — 
we  mean  the  false  glare,  the  prestige^  to  use  an  expressive 
French  word,  with  which  the  possession  of  imperial  power  and 
unbounded  wealth  had  so  loQg  surrounded  him  in  the  imagina- 
tion of  the  world.  When  this  was  reipoved,  he  did  not, — such 
at  least  is  our  impression, — ^rise  in  the  public  estimation,  but  on 
the  contrary  was  thought  to  have  lost  much  of  his  heroisnii, 
without  gaining  a  great  deal  on  the  score  of  humanity.  When 
we  saw  the  conqueror  in  fifty  pitched  battles — ^the  modem 
Charlemagne — ^forgetting  the  real,  in  a  vain  concern  for  the 
imaginary  and  conventional,  dignity  of  his  character,  and  dis- 
piiting  with  a  paltry  colonial  governor  about  the  style  in  which 
he  was  to  be  addressed,  and  the  number  of  botdes  of  claret 
he  was  to  be  allowed  for  dinner,  with  as  much  apparent  inter- 
est as  he  had  before  contended  with  Alexander  for  the  empire 
of  Europe,  our  estimate  of  his  qualities  was  in  some  degree 
lowered,  and  we  recollected  Rousseau's  well  known  ode, 

Le  masque  tombe — ^I'homme  reste, — 
Elt  le  hjros  s'cvanouit 

Since  that  time,  and  especially  since  the  death  of  Bonaparte, 
we  have  had  in  rapid  succession  a  series  of  publications,  filled 


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1630.]  Tone  of  British  Criticism.  49 

with  the  most  minute,  curious,  and  instructive  information 
respecting  his  character  and  opinions,  prepared  in  general  by 
friendly  hands,  and  compiled,  in  part,  under  his  own  direction 
and  even  dictation.  We  have  had  the  scientific  and  military 
details  of  his  campaigns  by  himself  and  his  favorite  generals ; 
the  diffiise  memoranda  of  his  conversations  in  exile  by  the 
Count  de  Las  Cases,  and  now  within  a  few  months  the  authen- 
tic narrative  of  his  private  life  while  in  power,  by  his  favorite 
secretary,  of  which  we  hope  in  a  future  number  to  lay  sonle 
notice  before  our  readers.  In  addition  to  this,  we  have  had  a 
hundred  collections  of  memoirs,  some  of  them  m  the  highest 
degree  curious  and  interesting,  by  various  personages,  who 
figured  in  his  armies  or  at  his  court,  from  his  brodier  to  his 
buder :  and  we  may  safely  say,  that  there  is  now,  as  the  Spanish 
proverb  runs,  very  litde  at  the  bottom  of  the  inkstand.  The 
strain  of  most  of  these  works  is  on  the  whole  decidedly  pane- 
gyrical, as  might  naturally  be  expected,  when  we  recollect  that 
they  were  almost  aU  written  by  creatures  and  dependants  of 
the  Ex-Emperor,  who  looked  back  to  the  period  of  his  reign  as 
the  golden  age,  which  for  them  no  doubt  it  was.  Every  thing 
has  been  said  that  could  be  said,  to  exalt,  embellish,  explain, 
justify,  excuse,  or  palliate,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  par- 
ticular passage  of  his  Hfe  under  consideration.  His  encomiasts 
endeavor  to  make  him  out  the  *  wisest,  virtuousest,  discreetest, 
best'  of  men,  as  well  as  the  most  enterprising,  skilful,  and  suc- 
cessful of  commanders.  We  have  been  told  how  he  pinched 
the  Abb6  de  Pradt's  ears,  extemporised  love-tales  for  the  enter- 
tainment of  the  Empress  and  her  ladies,  and  played  bob-cherry 
with  the  King  of  Rome.  All  this  may  be  true,  although  we 
must  own  that  we  receive  it  in  part  with  some  grains  of  allow- 
ance. But  supposing  it  to  be  all  true,  it  does  not  much  affect 
the  political  and  moral  character  of  the  personage,  who,  we 
fear,  must  still  remain  what  he  was  before — sedet  <Btemumque 
sedebit — a  usurper,  a  tyrant,  and  an  enemy  to  liberty. 

Our  critic  takes  it  very  much  amiss  that  Dr.  Channing  should 
elevate  Milton,  Bacon,  and  Shakspeare  in  the  order  of  intel- 
lectual precedency  above  Wellington,  Nelson,  and  Napoleon, 
and  in  general  should  consider  philosophy  and  poetry  as  higher 
applications  of  talent  than  the  business  of  practical  life  even  in 
its  highest  departments,  which  policy  and  war  undoubtedly  are. 
He  affirms  that  the  latent  object  of  the  Doctor  in  making  this 
division,  is  no  other  than  to  place  himself  at  the  top  amou^ 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  7 


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50  Tone  of  Brituk  Critieim.  [Juty, 

those  who  talk  about  things,  and  commanders  at  the  bottom 
among  those  who  only  do  ibem.  Now  this,  which  is  doubtless 
in  the  opinion  of  the  reviewer  very  excellent  pleasantry,  is 
unquestionably  very  inaccurate,  and  we  must  add,  very  unfair 
when  considered  as  a  statement  of  die  theory  of  our  countryman. 
Dr.  Channing  does  not  place  himself,  but  Milton,  Bacon,  and 
Shakspeare  at  the  top^  and  he  does  not  place  the  great  com^ 
manders,  such  as  Napoleon,  Wellington,  and  Nelson,  at  the 
bottom^  but  only  below  the  very  few  persons  who  have  exer- 
cised equal  or  greater  powers  in  a  still  more  comprehensive 
and  general  way.  The  difference  between  these  two  versions 
of  his  theory,  however  unimportant  the  critic  may  consider  it 
for  other  purposes,  is  at  least  very  material  to  the  reputation  of 
Dr.  Channing  for  modesty — a  quality  which  is  more  valued  on 
Ais  side  the  water  than*— to  judge  by  the  practice  of  the  re*> 
viewer — ^we  should  suppose  it  to  be  in  Scodand.  As  respects 
the  principle,  we  incline  to  think  that  it  will  bear  examination, 
and  do  not  consider  it  so  much  at  variance  with  the  common 
opinion  of  the  world  as  this  writer  evidently  does.  If  he  had 
not  treated  it  as  a  paradox,  we  should  have  been  rather  di£H 
posed  to  regard  it  as  a  truism.  *  In  Europe,'  it  seems,  '  we 
think  that  Csesar,  Alexander,  and  Charlemagne  were  no  babies.' 
Has  Dr.  Channing,  then,  intimated  that  he  considered  Napo- 
leon as  a  baby  ?  Is  every  man  a  baby  who  could  not  have 
written  the  Paradise  Lost,  the  JVovum  Organon  or  King 
L#ear  ?  If  the  reviewer's  object  be  caricature,  we  can  under- 
stand what  he  means ;  but  his  representation,  or  rather  mifr> 
representation,  is  obviously  wholly  foreign  to  the  merits  of  the 
question.  '  We  think  in  Europe  that  to  move  the  great  masses 
of  power,  and  to  bind  opinions  in  a  spell,  is  as  difficult  as 
the  turning  a  period,  or  the  winding  up  a  homily.'  Does 
the  reviewer  then  mean  to  tell  us  that  it  is  the  commander, 
military  or  naval,  who  moves  the  great  masses  of  power  and 
binds  opinions  in  a  spell?  Is  it  not  perfecdy  obvious,  that  ho 
individual,  by  a  direct  application  of  even  the  highest  talent 
to  practical  business,  can  produce  any  very  extensive  efiects, 
excepting  so  far  as  he  may  have  the  advantage  of  a  favorable 
state  of  opinion,  prepared,  *  spell-bound,*  as  the  reviewer  is 
pleased  to  say,  beforehand  ?  No  illustradon  of  this  remark  can 
be  more  complete  and  conclusive  than  that  which  is  furnished  by 
the  example  of  Napoleon  himself.  The  conqueror  of  Arcole, 
Austerlitz,  and  Jena,  undoubtedly  possessed  a  military  genius 


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1830.]  Time  (^  British  Criticism.  51 

of  the  first  class ;  but  what  wouk)  he  have  been  under  other 
circumstances-*-hail  he  lived,  for  example,  fifty  years  earlier 
than  he  did  ?  He  would  have  been  under  Louis  XV.  what 
Dumouriez-^-a  person  of  much  the  same  character--— was,  a 
brigadier-general  at  forty,  with  the  reputation  of  a  mauvaise 
iitej  and  alive  at  this  day.  The  principle  of  his  great  success 
lay  in  the  fact  of  his  appearance  at  a  critical  epoch.  The 
rev(dutian  bad  electrified  public  opinion,  and  thrown  the  great 
living  masses  of  power,  not  only  into  motion,  but  into  convul- 
sions. Bonaparte,  with  his  prodigious  military  talent,  electrified 
himself  by  the  same  causes  that  acted  upon  all  the  rest,  was 
able,  under  the  favor  of  circumstances,  to  give  these  masses  for 
a  time  a  direction  towards  any  particular  object  which  he  hap- 
pened to  prefer.  Here  was  a  golden  opportunity  for  displaying 
the  very  highest  order,  not  of  intellectual,  but,  what  is  a  stiU 
nobler  quality,  moral  greatness ;  and  had  Napoleon  done  justice 
to  it,  be  would  imdoubtedly  have  placed  his  name  above  those 
of  Milton,  Shakspeare,  or  any  other  that  is  named  among  men, 
excepting  only  that  of  Wadiington.  To  what  object  then — 
having  as  he  had  the  fiill  liberty  of  choice — did  he  direct  the 
almost  boundless  power  which  was  placed  at  his  disposal?  The 
good  of  the  world— the  service  of  truth,  virtue,  and  liberty — ^the 
welfare  of  his  country  ?  Oh  no !  All  these  might  have  been 
promoted  together,  and  by  the  same  efforts ;  but  these  noble 
objects,  and  with  them  the  lives  and  happiness  of  millions  of 
his  ccxntemporaries,  were  sacrificed  to  a  direct  regard  for  his 
own  paltry  self,  as  the  reviewer  has  it.  When  the  universe  was 
all  in  alarm,  ready  for  any  thing,  and  thrown  by  accident  under 
his  command,  he  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  employ  it  upon 
than  the  mighty  adventure  of  changing  the  style,  title,  and 
mode  of  living  of  a  litde  French  corporal  and  his  family. 
Such  were  his  pretensions  to  moral  greatness ;  and  where  a 
man  is  deficient  in  this  particular,  there  is  much  reason  to  fear 
that  his  mind  is  not  of  the  highest  order.  *  The  heart,'  says 
Vauvenargues,  *is  the  true  source  of  intellectual  power.* 
Touies  ies  grandes  pensies  viennent  du  ccRur.  But  to  return  to 
the  question,  as  stated  by  the  reviewer  himself — ^Who  electrified 
public  opinion,  and  set  in  motion  the  great  masses  of  power, 
which  Napoleon  so  shamefully  mismanaged  ?  Obviously  the 
authors  of  the  French  revolution.  And  who  were  the  authors 
of  the  French  revolution  ?  The  military,  we  know,  were  the 
kat  portion  of  the  community  who  had  any  concern  in  it. 


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62  Tone  of  British  Criticism.  [July, 

Those  who  gave  the  impulse  and  carried  on  the  work  to  its  com- 
pletion at  the  taking  of  the  BastiUe,  were  the  curators,  thinkers, 
and  writers — ^to  go  no  higher — of  the  two  preceding  centuries, 
firom  Luther  to  Mirabeau.  How  did  they  effect  Uieir  object  ? 
Precisely  by  the  means  which  the  reviewer  speaks  of  with  so 
much  contempt — '  by  turning  periods'  and  '  winding  up  homi- 
lies.' An  obscure  Augustme  monk,  by  his  powerful  preaching, 
wrought  in  such  a  way  upon  the  feelings  of  his  contemporaries, 
that  diey  burst  all  bounds — ^rent  in  twain  the  sacred  veil  that 
had  before  concealed  from  the  public  the  mysteries  of  religious 
belief,  and  commenced  a  series  of  wars  that  lasted  a  century 
and  a  half,  and  opened  an  epoch  in  the  history  of  Europe. 
But  as  Luther  only  '  wound  yp  homilies'  he  was  of  course,  in 
the  opinion  of  our  critic,  a  veiy  small  man.  Calvin  and  he 
were  mere  pigmies  in  comparison  with  Gustavus  Adolphus  and 
Wallenstein,  who  did  the  things,  which  they  only  talkid  about. 
Locke,  Montesquieu,  Voltaire,  Rousseau,  and  the  rest,  by  their 
powerful  speculations  in  moral  and  political  philosophy,  effected 
the  change  in  the  public  opinion  of  Europe,  which  immediately 
determined  the  occurrence  of  the  French  revolution,  and  thus 
unsettled  all,  and  overthrew  the  greater  part  of  the  governments 
before  existing  in  the  civilized  world.  But  as  these  persons 
only  *  turned  periods,'  their  agency  was,  of  course,  a  very 
secondary  one,  and  they  are  not  to  be  named  for  importance 
on  the  same  day  with  Dumouriez,  Pichegru,  Moreau,  and, 
finally.  Napoleon  and  his  generals,  who  actually  did  what  they 
only  talked  about.  Such  is  the  system  of  the  reviewer.  We  in 
America — ^very  foolishly  perhaps — consider  the  *  kingly-crowned 
head'*  and  the  'counsellor  heart^^  as  nobler  members  of  the 
body,  whether  politic  or  natural,  than  'our  steed  the  leg,'  or 
'  the  arm  our  soldier.'  Without  pretendbg  to  depreciate  the 
importance  of  the  functions  of  a  military  or  naval  commander, 
which  are  among  the  noblest  that  belong  to  practical  life,  we 
conceive  tliat  the  philosopher  occupies  the  same  situation  in  the 
great  action  of  human  affairs,  and  in  relation  to  the  whole 
human  race,  that  the  general  does  on  the  field  of  batde  in  refer- 
ence to  his  own  army.  The  skilful  commander,  who  knows 
his  business,  does  not  place  himself  in  the  fixjnt  rank,  and  lay 
about  him  with  his  own  bands.  He  takes  his  station  on  a 
neighboring  height  with  a  telescope  by  his  side,  and  gives  his 
orders  to  bis  aids,  who  in  turn  convey  them  to  the  inferior  offi- 
cers, until  they  reach  the  subalterns  and  privates.    These  are 


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1S30.]  Tone  of  British  Critieim.  68 

the  persons  who  actually  cut  down  the  enemy.  They  do  what 
the  comraander-in-chief  and  the  superior  ofBcers  only  talk  about, 
and  on  the  system  of  our  critic  are  the  real  heroes  of  the  day. 
In  the  same  way,  the  philosopher  takes  his  stand  on  the  intel- 
lectual elevation  of  superior  talent,  and  talks  to  the  few  who  are 
able  to  hear  him — 5PwiaiTa  cv^ezo.dtv.  By  them  his  judg- 
ments of  men  and  things  are  communicated  to  the  many,  and 
having  thus  wrought  out  a  change  in  public  opinion,  begin  at 
last  to  exhibit  their  practical  effects,  whether  for  good  or  evil, 
by  determining  a  new  order  of  political  events.  Thus  far  all 
is  done  by  talking,  and  the  talk  is  entirely  upon  general  princi- 
ples. At  this  period,  a  new  scene  opens  in  the  progress  of  the 
action,  and  a  new  set  of  characters  make  their  appearance. 
The  practical  statesman  and  commander  are  now  the  prominent 
persons,  but  still,  as  before,  all  is  done  by  talking.  The  only 
diBference  is,  that  the  conversation,  instead  of  turnmg  upon 
general  principles,  now  turns  upon  the  application  of  them  to 
S)e  business  of  the  world.  The  representative  and  diplomatist 
talk  in  Congress  and  in  Pailiament-^the  commander  talks  and 
writes  in  his  cabbet  or  at  the  head  of  his  army — and  they  thus 
produce  effects  upai  a  somewhat  mferior,  but  still  very  extensive 
scale,  until,  iBnally,  the  merely  passive  mortal  machine  begins  to 
perform  its  functions.  The  tax-gatherer,  the  soldier,  the  sheriff, 
the  surgeon,  the  attorney,  tlie  cultivator,  get  into  motion. 
Sword  and  lancet,  piU  and  cartridge-box,  plea,  plough,  and 
printing-press  are  set  to  work :  the  talk  is  over,  and  the  real 
action,  as  our  critic  considers  it,  is  at  last  in  progress.  It  is 
needless,  of  course,  after  what  we  have  said,  to  dweU  any  fur- 
ther on  the^  nature  of  his  mistake,  which  is  obviously  the  vulgar 
one  of  considering  '  the  pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance,'  the 
*  sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothing,'  which  attend  the  appear- 
ance of  a  certain  class  of  the  performers  in  this  great  drama,  as 
proofs  of  their  superior  importance  in  comparison  with  the  rest. 
A  man  who  wears  a  laced  coat  widi  epaulettes  on  his  shoulders, 
occupies  the  largest  house  in  the  city,  is  attended,  when  he  goes 
out,  by  a  multitude  of  others,  and  perhaps  saluted  by  the  dis- 
charge of  a  hundred  pieces  of  artillery,  is  obviously  a  much 
greater  character  than  another  who  merely  sits  down  in  his 
morning-gown,  to  write  by  his  tire-side.  The  plausibility  of  the 
statement,  so  far  as  it  has  any,  lies  in  confounding  the  faculty  of 
writing  and  speaking  with  grammatical  correctness  and  rhetori- 
cal elegance,  with  die  intellectual  power  wliich  is  required  for 


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64  Tm€  0f  BriHah  CritieUm.  [Juljr, 

writing  and  speaking  with  effect.  In  the  fonner  s^ise  tbe  art 
of  turning  a  period  or  winding  up  a  homily  is  undoubtedly  a 
very  trifling  accomplishment,  although  we  could  wish  that, 
trifling  as  it  is,  it  were  not  quite  so  much  neglected  by  some  of 
our  great  men.  But  to  turn  a  period  or  wind  up  a  hoisily  with 
effect,  requires,  in  addition  to  all  that  Lowth  and  Blair  can  sup- 
ply, a  head — with  good  effect — a  heart;  and  these  are  tools 
which,  whatever  the  reviewer  may  think  of  it,  are  not  to  b^ 
found  in  every  man's  workshop.  A3  respects  the  latter,  ai 
least,  we  believe  that  hb  own  stock  would  not  be  the  worse  ibr 
a  little  mending. 

The  reviewer  appears  to  consider  the  opinion  antertamed  by 
Dr.  Channing  of  the  character  of  NapolecHi,  as  net  only  uojust 
and  incorrect  in  Hself,  but  as  entirely  inconsistent  with  the  lib- 
eral {Mrinciples,  wluch  our  countryman  professes  in  regard  to 
other  matters.  This  supposed  inconsistency  is,  as  we  remarked 
above,  the  real  foundation  of  the  charge  made  upon  him  by  the 
critic  of  trimming  between  of^site  paxties.  It  is  imfossiUe 
according  to  this  authority,  to  love  liberty  without  loving  Bcxia- 
partcy  and  one  who  pretends  to  love  liberty,  and  at  the  same 
time. to  hate  Bonaparte,  must  necessarily  be  a  hypocrke  and  a 
time-server.  '  We  are  surprised,  that  staunch  republicans,  who 
complain  that  the  world  bow  to  rank  and  bulh  alone,  should 
turn  with  redoubled  rage  i^ainst  intellect,  the  mocnent  k  be- 
came a  match  for  pride  and  prejudice,  and  was  the  only  thing 
that  could  be  opposed  to  them  with  success,  or  could  extort  a 
moment's  fear  or  awe  for  human  genius  or  human  nature  !' 

Now  we  must  needs  say,  at  the  risk  of  appearing  to  be  ac- 
tuated by  a  spirit  of  indiscriminate  censure,  diat  the  inconsist- 
ency here,  as  the  error  before,  seems  to  us  to  be  on  the  side  of 
tbe  reviewer,  and  not  of  Dr.  Channing.  We  really  cannot  dis- 
cern the  identity  between  the  cause  of  Bonaparte,  and  diat  of 
well-ordered  and  rational  liberty,  which  is  so  perfectly  obvious 
and  palpable  to  the  sharp  optics  of  this  Scottish  seer.  We  in 
our  turn  are  surprised  that  staunch  whigs,  nurtured  in  the  prin- 
ciples of  Sydney  and  Russell,  brought  up  at  the  feet  of  Fox, 
einemies  by  creed,  feeling,  habit,  and  inheritance,  of  the  slightest 
approach  to  arbitrary  forms  of  government,  should  deem  it  con- 
sistent with  their  character  to  grovel  at  the  footstool  of  a  despot, 
and  kiss  the  rod  of  iron  oppression,  simply  because  it  is  wielded 
by  the  hand  of  one  wlio  rose  from  the  lower  walks  of  life,  pos- 
sessed great  talents,  and  had  once  been,  or  pretended  to  be,  a 


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1890.]  Ikm€  of  Briiiih  Critkisnt.  i& 

friend  ct  libetly.  Does  tfrBjmy  lose  its  proper  character,  and 
cease  lo  be  odious,  because  die  tyram  bappens  to  be  also  a  usuiv 
per,  an  apostate,  and  tok  uqpstart  ?  If  the  situadon  and  disposkioa 
of  a  ruler  be  such,  tiiat  he  wiU  oertakdy  do  me  all  the  injury  in 
his  power,  is  it  a  rational  source  of  satis&ctioo  to  me,lhait  he  pos- 
sesses great  talents,  and  that  his  power  to  injure  me  wiU  of 
course  be  nearly  coextensive  with  his  will  ?  C^o  I  be  blamed 
for  turning  with  ^  redoubled  rage,'  if  the  reviewer  like  the  ex*- 
pression,  i^^Km  intellect,  when  the  only  use  that  is  made  of  this 
intellect  is  to  invent  and  put  b  practice  new  and  more  eflfectud 
methods  of  depriving  me  by  {woe  or  fraud  of  all  I  bold  dear  i 
Did  the  Romans  of  the  time  of  Oesar,  who,  as  Cassius  tells  us 
in  the  {^y,  were  compelled  to 

Wfl&  under  his  huge  l^s,  and  peep  eiboot 
To  find  theniBelyes  dishenorable  gnives, 

feel  much  pride  in  die  large  dimeni^ns  of  die  polidcai  man- 
mountain,  that  was  trampling  them  down  in  die  dust?  For  our- 
selves we  are  devotedly  attached  to  liberty,  and  would  make 
any  sacrifice  to  escape  from  oppressi(m ;  but  if  we  must  sub- 
mit to  it,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  diat  we  should  much 
prefer  a  good,  easy,  hereditary,  gouty  despot,  who  woiAd  ask 
for  nothing  km  a  sicilful  cook,  and  a  well-stocked  deer-park, 
to  a  fiery  usurper  of  first-rate  talent,  who  would  be  always  (mi 
horseback,  wasdng  the  blood  and  treasure  of  his  people  in  vain 
attempts  to  gratify  his  wild  and  wanton  ambition.  Tyrant  for 
tyrant,  we  should  certainly  prefer  King  Log  to  King  Stork, 
Louis  to  Napoleon ;  and  we  consider  this  preference  as  not 
only  not  inconsistent  with,  but  as  the  natural  and  necessary 
result  of  a  love  of  liberty.  We  >must  even  venture  to  suggest 
to  tliis  critic,  with  aU  tlie  deference  due  to  so  high  an  authority, 
thaft  the  intelligent  friends  of  Uberty  on  diis  ^de  the  water  have 
not  been  edified  by  the  tone  of  adulation  which  has  generally 
distinguished  the  speculations  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  cm  the 
character  of  Bonaparte.  We  have  seen  with  regret,  and  a  sort 
of  indignation,  the  journal  which  claims  to  be,  and  may  perhaps 
be  fairly  considered  as  being  in  Europe,  the  leading  periodical 
organ  of  sound  political  principles,  lavishing  its  warmest  ex- 
pressions of  applause  and  admiration  upon  the  bitterest  and  most 
effective  enemy  to  such  principles  that  has  yet  appeared.  We 
cannot  admit  as  a  sufficient  excuse  for  this,  that  the  Edinburgh 
Review  is  or  was,  as  respects  the  party  divisions  diat  prevail 
in  Great  Britain,  an  opposition  journal^  and  that  it  was  neces- 


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56  Tone  of  British  Critidam.  [July, 

sary  to  defend  at  all  hazards,  and  ynih  every  sacrifice  of  con- 
sistency and  prmciple,  the  chief  of  a  nation  with  which  the 
ministry  were  at  war.  This  might  answer  as  an  apology  for  a 
humbler  class  of  writers,  who  profess  no  other  rule  of  conduct 
than  attachment  to  their  party ;  but  can  hardly  be  received  as  a 
good  plea  in  behalf  of  the  Edinburgh  Review.  Or  even  if  we 
consent  to  allow  to  this  consideration  somewhat  more  weight 
than  it  is  fairly  entitled  to,  what  propriety  is  there  in  expecting 
that  we  in  this  country,  who  are  not  under  the  influence  of  the 
same  party  feelings,  should  give  way  to  the  same  real  or  affected 
delusion  upon  this  subject  ?  Because  the  British  whigs  deem  it 
politic  to  rush  through  thick  and  thin  in  pursuit  of  what  they 
no  doubt  regard  as  patriotic  objects,  are  the  citizens  oi  the 
United  States,  who  have  no  immediate  concern  with  those  ob- 
jects, to  affirm  that  black  is  white,  and  sanction  the  wildest 
excesses  in  conduct,  and  the  grossest  errors  in  principle,  merely 
for  the  sake  of  keeping  them  company  ?  We  can  assure  the 
reviewer,  that  it  is  as  much  as  our  consciences  will  bear  us  out 
in,  to  follow  up  the  hue  and  cry  of  our  own  parties,  without 
intermeddling  in  those  of  other  countries  a  thousand  leagues 
off.  In  short,  if  the  critic  will  but  coolly  consider  these  things, 
he  cannot  avoid  seeing,  that  the  inconsistency  complained  of  is 
reaUy  on  his  side,  and  not  on  that  of  Dr.  Chaiyiing ;  that  the 
friends  of  liberty  are  not,  as  such,  bound  in  honor  and  con- 
science to  bow  down  before  the  brazen  image  of  a  ruthless  and 
bloody  military  despotism ;  and  that  if  he,  the  reviewer,  had 
thought  proper  to  bestow  a  little  of  his  friendly  feeling  upon 
the  young,  flourishing,  growing,  glorious,  English  republic  of  the 
United  States,  mstead  of  wasting  it  all  upon  an  Italian  soldier, 
merely  because  he  was  a  man  of  talent,  he  would  have  acted 
much  more  consistendy  with  his  professed  prbciples,  and  done 
himself  a  great  deal  more  honor  in  the  opinion  of  judicious  men. 
The  general  result  seems  to  be,  that  the  attack  of  the  re- 
viewer upon  the  literary  and  moral  reputation  of  Dr.  Channing, 
and  our  other  distinguished  countrymen,  is  not  less  unjust  than 
it  is  indecorous.  We  had  intended,  after  replying  to  the  arti- 
cle immediately  before  us,  to  have  alluded  to  some  other 
attacks,  which  have  recendy  been  levelled  by  the  British  press 
against  this  country,  but  have  only  room  at  present  to  notice 
the  manner  in  which  one  of  the  more  respectable  weekly  jour- 
nals has  been  pleased  to  comment  upon  our  own  labors.  We 
shall  first  quote  entire  the  article  to  which  we  allude,  and 


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1830.]  Tone  of  British  Criiicim.  67. 

which  appeared  in  the  Edinburgh  Scotsman  of  December  5th, 
under  the  title  of  J>forih  American  Review^  JVb.  66, /or  Octo- 
ber, 1829. 

'  We  have  no  great  respect  for  this  periodical,  of  which  a  cas- 
ual number  now  and  then  strays  into  our  hands.  We  give  the 
writers  credk  for  considerable  industry,  talent,  and  extent  of 
information,  and  for  a  large  portion  of  that  worldly  shrewdness 
which  disposes  prudent  men  to  sail  with  the  tide,  and  keep  to 
windward  of  all  doctrines  which  are  not  already  in  general  favor ; 
but  they  are  woefully  deficient  in  intellectual  courage,  in  pro- 
found and  original  views,  in  lofty  aims,  and  in  that  love  of  truth 
and  of  mankind,  which  atones  for  many  errors,  and  sanctifies 
the  best  efforts  of  the  understanding.  The  journal  wants  true 
American  feeling ;  it  wants  heart  and  it  wants  soul.  The  wri- 
ters creep  in  the  train  of  our  reviewers,  and  take  upon  their 
shoulders  from  choice,  the  load  of  prejudice  and  sophistry  which 
is  forcibly  entailed  upon  us  by  our  old  establishments,  and  the 
feelings  and  interests  which  have  grown  out  of  them.  There  is 
but  one  absolutely  clear  stage  in  the  world  for  the  discussion  of 
every  question  that  interests  mankind ;  and  that,  owing  to  a  hap- 
py combination  of  circumstances,  exists  in  North  America.  But 
the  periodical  writers  of  the  first  class  there,  voluntarily  re- 
nounce the  high  functions  which  thus  devolve  upon  them,  and, 
instead  of  heading  the  tide  of  liberal  speculation,  and  boldly  pro- 
claiming truths  which  must  either  be  suppressed  in  the  old 
world,  or  uttered  in  whispers,  send  us  back  a  feeble  echo  of  the 
false  doctrines  and  antiquated  opinions,  which  are,  or  were  cur- 
rent among  ourselves.  For  any  thing  that  appears  in  it  on  poli- 
tics, morals,  law,  religion,  or  philosophy,  this  review  might  be 
edited  under  the  censorship  of  a  Burgomaster  of  Frankfort,  or  an 
Amtman  of  Carlsruhe !  If  it  was  (were)  published  in  either  of 
these  towns,  we  should  say  it  was  a  respectable  journal ;  but  as 
the  organ  of  opinion  in  free  republican  America,  nothing  can  be 
more  pitiful.  It  is  as  innocent  of  giving  pountenance  to  inno- 
vation, as  if  Prince  Metternich  were  the  editor!  Indeed,  it  gives 
shelter  and  protection  to  many  errors  and  prejudices,  of  which 
enlightened  men  in  Europe  are  beginning  to  be  ashamed.  The 
writers  have  not  the  slightest  conception  that  their  country  ex- 
emplifies a  new  and  happier  order  of  society,  which  ought  to 
become  a  source  of  light  to  the  world.  Were  Locke  and  Sydney 
living  in  our  day,  they  would  regard  the  American  government 
as  a  beautiful  and  successful  experiment'  which  has  solved  diffi- 
culties that  had  perplexed  the  wisest  of  men  from  the  beginning 
of  time,  and  unfolded  truths  of  incalculable  value  to  mankind. 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  8 


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68  Tone  of  British  Criticism.  [July> 

N<it  so  the  sages  of  the  North  American  Review.  In  their  eyes, 
the  republican  institutions  of  their  country  are  merely  one  of  the 
accidental  modes  or  fashions  of  government  to  which  the  varieties 
of  national  taste  and  genius  give  birth,  having  much  in  common 
with  the  pauper-loaded  and  priest-ridden  systems  of  the  old  world ! 
To  transplant  its  forms,  or  apply  its  principles  to  any  state  of 
continental  Europe,  would,  in  their  opinion,  be  a  presumptuous 
and  visionary  attempt,  fit  only  for  the  Radicals  of  England,  or  the 
Tugenbundists  of  Germany !  As  men  shave  their  heads  in  one 
country — their  chins  in  another — and  wear  both  their  hair  and 
their  beard  in  a  third — so  there  is  a  diversity  of  taste  and  usage 
among  nations  upon  the  subject  of  government,  which  no  wise 
man  should  disturb!  The  American  loves  to  make  his  own 
laws,  assess  his  own  taxes,  and  appoint  his  own  parsons  and 
magistrates.  The  Englishman's  pleasure  is  to  grumble  at  the 
aristocracy,  to  whom  he  commits  these  functions ;  the  Spaniard 
rejoices  in  the  dominion  of  his  rey  absoluto  and  his  priests ;  the 
Turk  is  delighted  with  the  bow-string  of  his  sublime  Lord,  and 
the  conscience  of  the  Russian  is  satisfied  provided  his  back  is 
well  flayed  with  the  knout !  All  these  are  equaUy  happy  under 
thenr  several  systems !  To  transfer  the  institutions  of  one  of 
these  nations,  in  whole  or  in  part,  to  any  of  the  others,  would 
unsettle  old  associations  and  venerable  usages,  as  Burke  saga- 
ciously observes,  and  be  in  &ct  like  an  attempt  to  fit  the  jacket 
of  the  Laplander  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  gigantic  Patagonian ! 
We  assure  our  readers,  that  in  giving  this  account  of  their  doc- 
trines, though  we  cannot  quote  words  or  passages,  we  are  not 
intentionally  caricaturing  the  American  reviewers,  but  describing 
what  we  honestly  believe  to  be  the  scope  of  their  principles ; 
and  our  opinion  is  formed  after  perusing,  at  one  time  or  another, 
a  considerable  portion  of  their  lucubrations.  It  does  indeed 
rouse  our  indignation  to  see  them,  with  such  unequalled  means  of 
doing  good,  play  false  to  the  cause  of  mankind,  and  lend  their 
aid  to  prop  up  the  most  pernicious  errors  and  the  worst  dogmas 
of  the  old  world. 

*  Let  him  who  doubts  our  statement,  try  the  American  review- 
ers by  "  any  constant  question."  Let  him  examine  their  opin- 
ions as  to  the  effect  of  church  establishments,  the  utility  of  classical 
literature  as  a  part  of  general  education,  the  value  of  the  English 
unpaid  magistracy,  and  of  the  technicalities,  cumbrousness,  and 
expensiveness  of  the  English  law,  the  advantages  of  codification, 
&c.  On  all  these  points  he  will  find  the  reviewers  ranging 
themselves  on  the  side  of  old  opinions,  and  sailing  in  the  wake 
of  those  writers  in  this  country,  who  are  distinguished  as  the 
enemies  of  every  rational  reform,  and  the  upholders  of  every 


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1830.]  Tone  of  Bfiii$h  Critioim.  59 

old  abuse.  Thoagh  liying  in  a  country  where  improvement  is 
advancing  at. the  gallop,  *'on  the  car  of  time/'  they  have  no 
faith  in  the  future  fortunes  of  our  race,  nor  indulge  in  any  aspi- 
rations after  unattained  but  possible  good.  Such  as  man  has 
been,  such  they  think  he  ever  will  be,  a  poor,  benighted  animal, 
groping  his  way  from  one  error  to  another,  the  prey  of  priests, 
and  the  victim  ^f  tyrants,  abusing  liberty  where  he  has  it,  and 
often  more  happy  as  a  slave  than  as  a  freeman !  The  weight  of 
their  authority,  such  as  it  is,  is  employed  to  inculcate  political 
maxims,  which  are  shallow  and  grovelling.  Their  labors  tend 
to  repress  true  independence  of  thought,  to  bring  derision  on  a 
generous  and  enlarged  philanthropy,  and  to  teach  the  Ameri- 
cans to  undervalue  those  institutions  which  constitute  their  chief 
glory.  Fortunately,  the  course  of  things  is  too  strong  for  the 
efforts  of  any  knot  of  literary  men.  Truth  in  our  days  has,  like 
the  ocean,  ten  thousand  avenues,  and  its  course  can  be  but  little 
impeded  by  closing  up  one  or  two  of  them.  America  will  pro- 
duce men  who  can  appreciate  the  moral  grandeur  of  her  institu- 
tions, and  when  these  appear,  her  literature  will  become  a  foun- 
tain of  light  to  the  world. 

'  In  a  literary  point  of  view,  the  present  number  is  respecta- 
ble. It  contains  twelve  articles,  the  last  and  longest  of  which  is 
a  review  of  Captain  Hall's  Travels.  We  have  seen  a  writer 
cut  up  in  a  more  masterly  style,  but  the  critic  does  exert  no 
coatemptible  degree  of  skill,  in  showing  up  the  Captain's  preju- 
dice, rashness,  and  inconsistency,  and  he  has  imitated  the  sub- 
ject of  his  criticism  in  combining  the  suaviter  in  modo  with  the 
fortiter  in  re.  So  much  of  the  discussion,  however,  is  devoted 
to  special  points,  that  we  cannot  find  a  passage  fit  for  quota- 
tion. Of  the  other  articles,  there  are  not  many  calculated  to 
interest  readers  in  this  country ;  but  we  insert  an  extract  from 
an  article  on  Modern  Greek  Literature,  for  the  sake  of  the  infor- 
mation it  contains.' 

It  is  plain,  from  the  tenor  of  this  article,  that  the  mind  of 
the  writer  has  been  severely  exercised  by  something  which  he 
has  met  with  in  some  preceding  number  of  this  journal,  but 
with  the  aid  of  the  little  light  which  he  has  thought  proper  to 
throw  upon  the  subject,  we  are  rather  at  a  loss  to  conjecture 
what  particul^u:  part  of  our  speculations  it  is,  by  which  we 
hssre  been  so  unfortunate  as  to  give  him  offence.  To  the 
charges  of  ignorance  and  duhiess,  we  of  course,  plead  guilty 
with  great  cheerfulness.  Independently  of  the  general  pre- 
sumption against  us,  which  results  from  the  well-known  de- 
generacy of  the  race  on  this  side  the  water,  we  are  quite 


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60  Tone  of  British  Criticism.  [July, 

aware  of  our  personal  incapacity  to  carry  into  effect  to  any  con- 
siderable extent,  our  very  honest  intentions  to  entertain  and 
instruct  our  readers.  We  know,  that  in  both  tliese  respects, 
they  are  too  often  compelled  to  take  the  will  for  the  deed. 
We  also  fully  acquit  the  worthy  editor  of  any  intention  to  car- 
icature or  misrepresent  our  doctrines.  His  positive  denial  of 
any  such  intention  would  of  course  be  quite  sufficient ;  inde- 
pendently of  which,  the  honor  he  has  done  us  by  reading  the 
'  casual  numbers  of  our  journal  that  now  and  dien  stray  into 
his  hands,'  or,  as  he  is  anerwards  pleased  to  explain  himself, 
by  *  perusing  at  one  time  or  another  a  considerable  portion  of 
our  lucubrations,'  is  an  ample  guarantee  that  he  bears  us  no 
ill-will.  When,  therefore,  we  find  him  asserting  that  we  are 
*  woefully  deficient  in  intellectual  courage— profound  and  origi- 
nal views — ^lofty  aims — ^love  of  truth  and  mankind — ^heart — 
soul — and  true  American  feeling,' — ^that  we  '  take  upon  ourselves 
from  choice  a  load  of  prejudice  and  sophistry,* — *  send  back  to 
the  old  world  a  feeble  echo  of  the  false  and  antiquated  doctrines 
that  are  or  were  current  there,' — that  we  *  play  false  to  the 
cause  of  man,' — ^that  '  as  an  organ  of  opinion  for  republican 
America,  nothing  can  be  more  pitifuP  tfian  our  journal — and 
finally,  that  we  •  creep  in  the  train  of  our  reviewers^^ — ^with  the 
other  gentUlesses  of  the  same  description,  which  the  reader 
will  have  met  with  m  the  above  extract,  we  are  bound  to 
presume  that  all  these  pretty  compUments  are  in  tlie  nature  of 
confessions,  reluctantly  extorted  by  the  force  of  truth  fi-om  a 
warm  and  real  fi-iend,  and  if  the  manner  appear  to  be  some- 
what unceremonious,  it  must  be  owing  to  a  want  of  taste  in 
us,  and  not  of  good  breeding  in  the  Scotsman,  who  is,  of 
course,  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  national  politeness  of  his 
countiy. 

.  But  even  if  we  allow  to  this  writer  all  the  credit  which  he 
seems  disposed  to  claim  for  a  friendly  and  respectful  feeling 
towards  us,  as  well  as  for  a  strict  observance  of  the  forms 
of  civility  usual  among  gentlemen,  to  which  his  pretensions 
are  equally  well  founded ;  and  if  we  also  concede  to  him  the 
general  inferiority  of  every  product  of  cisatlantic  origin  to  the 
corresponding  one  of  European,  and  -  especially  of  Scottish 
growth,  we  may  still  venture  to  intimate  that,  as  respects  some 
of  the  more  serious  offences  with  which  he  charges  us,  there 
may  possibly  be  a  mistake  in  fact.  While  assuring  his  readers 
that  he  has  no  mtention  to  caricature  us,  he  candidly  admits 


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1830.]  Tone  of  British  Criticism.  61 

that  he  i:annot  quote  words  and  passages  m  support  of  his  view 
of  our  doctrines.  Here,  then,  is  a  book,  in  thirty  volumes, 
lying  open  before  him,  and,  according  to  his  account,  full  of 
the  most  dangerous  and  heretical  prmciples,  written — withm 
and  vdthout — ^like  the  roll  m  Ezekiel,  with  lamentation  and 
inoummg  and  woe;  but  when'  he  comes  to  file  his  bill  of 
exceptions,  he  cannot,  .by  his  own  admission,  quote  an  objec- 
tionable passage — ^no,  not  so  much  as  a  single  offensive  word. 
This,  we  confess,  does  seem  to  us  a  little  extraordinary — 
but  let  it  pass ;  for  we  have  not  room  to  treat  the  subject 
in  detail.  In  defect  of  evidence  to  support  his  charges,  our 
accuser  undertakes  to  bring  us  to  confession,  forgetting  the 
humane  rule  of  the  common  law,  which  declares  that  no  person 
shall  be  held  to  criminate  himself.  He  proposes,  in  his  own 
phrase,  'to  try  us  by  any  constant  question,'  and  accordingly 
suggests  two  or  three,  which  we  are  expected  to  answer.  Inde- 
pendently of  the  rather  inquisitorial  character  of  this  method, 
we  must  be  permitted  to  remark,  that  the  Scotsman  is  a  little 
unfortunate  m  his  application  of  it.  Of  the  problems  which  he 
states,  all,  that  are  of  any  importance,  have  already  been  solved 
in  this  journal,  in  a  manner  which  would  probably  be  satisfactory 
to  him.  As  to  the  unpaid  magistracy,  and  the  value  of  classical 
literature,  they  are  matters  of  comparatively  trifling  consequence, 
on  which,  if  we  recollect  rightly,  we  have  not  had  much  occasion 
to  descant :  but  as  respects  the  weightier  subjects  of  codification 
and  an  established  church,  we  have  repeatedly  expressed 
opinions  decidedly  in  favor  of  the  former,  and  against  the  latter^ 
so  that  we  really  do  not  know  what  this  writer  means  by  accus- 
ing us  of  heresy  on  these  points.  In  treating  the  question  of 
codification^  we  have  not  even  stated  before,  what  we  now 
honestly  confess,  that,  whatever  may  be  the  value  of  the  thing, 
we  heartily  detest  and  despise  the  name,  which,  though  patron- 
ised by  the  Edinburgh  Review  and  the  Scotsman,  ought,  as  we 
conceive,  to  be  utterly  eschewed,  with  all  the  other  abominable 
inventions  of  the  same  author,  by  every  lover  of  pure  Englbh. 
Supposing,  however,  that  we  had  in  fact  said  somewhat  less 
upon  the  subjects  of  the  established  church  and  codification, 
than  the  opposition  journals  in  England  habitually  do,  does  not 
the  critic  perceive,  that  our  positioa  in  these  respects  is  entirely 
different  from  theirs  ?  We  in  America  have  no  church  estab- 
lishment, nor  are  we  embarrassed  with  *the  technicalities, 
cumbrousness,  and  expensiveness  of  the  Englbh  law,'    We 


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6%  Tone  of  British  Criticism,  [July, 

have  given,  long  ago,  the  best  and  most  decisive  evidence  of 
our  sentiments  on  these  points,  by  sim{^fying  the  law,  and 
avoiding  altogether  the  plan  of  an  established  church.  Th(B 
battle  is  fought  and  won.  What  merit  would  there  be  in  railing 
at  the  enemy  after  he  is  fairly  beaten,  and  has  cried  quarter  ? 
The  thmg  Vhich  the  Scotsman  wishes  us  to  be  always  taUcing 
about,  we  have  already  done :  and  this,  according  to  his  neigb-r 
bor  of  the  Review,  is  by  far  the  more  important  part  of  the 
business.  He  has  fallen  mto  a  similar  error  in  chargmg  us 
with  a  dismclination  to  innovate.  We  deny  that,  we  hjave  ever 
shown  any  indisposition  to  real  improvements  of  any  kind; 
but  the  Scotsman  should  remember  that  we  have  already  at- 
tained most  of  the  objects  which  the  friends  of  liberty  in  Europe 
regard  as  desirable.  He  tells  us  himself,  that  'our  country 
exemplifies  a  new  and  happier  order  of  society-,  which  ought  to 
become  a  source  of  light  to  the  world;  that  if  Locke  and 
Sydney  were  living  in  our  day,  they  would  regard  the  American 
government  as  a  beautiful  and  successful  experiment,  which  h^ 
solved  difficulties  that  had  perplexed  the  wisest  of  men  from 
the  beginning  of  time,  and  unfolded  truths  of  incalculable  value 
to  maiUdnd.'  Such  is  his  opinion  of  our  institutions ;  and,  al- 
though he  has  thought  proper  to  add  in  the  same  passage,  that 
'  the  sages  of  the  North  American  Review  have  not  the  i^htest 
conception  of  all  this,'  we  can  assure  him  that  he  is.  quite  mis-r 
taken,  and  that  our  opinion  upon  the  subject  is  exacdy  the 
same  with  his.  But  since  he  has  been  pleased  to  put  us  to 
the  question,  we  would  venture  to  ask  him  in  ixu'n,  why,  if 
our  government  be  already  perfect,  we  are  called  upon  to 
encourage  innovation  ?  Does  not  he  recollect  the  old  Italian 
epitaph,  I  was  welly  I  wanted  to  be  better j  and  here  I  am^  We ' 
are  well — we  do  not  want  to  be  better — ^we  conceive  that  the 
best  thing  that  can  happen  to  us  is  to  remain  as  we  are ;  and 
this  being  the  case,  we  can  have  no  motive  for  wishipg  to 
innovate.  Does  our  Scotch  friend  think  that,  after  reaching 
the  top  of  the  hill,  we  ought  to  descend  rather  than  not  keep 
moving  ?  Does  he  wish  us  to  change  for  the  worse,  rather  than 
not  change  at  all  ?  Or  does  he — ^s  is  more  probable — only  wish 
to  find  fault? 

Charges,  which  cannot  be  supported  by  words  or  passages, 
must  of  course  be  of  a  very  loose  apd  general  character.  When 
the  Scotsman  has  endeavored  to  present  those  which  he  prefers 
against  us  m  a  shape  at  all  tangible,  he  has  failed  of  giving  them 


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1830.]  Tone  of  British  Critidm.  63 

the  least  appearance  of  plausibil^.     He  teDs  us,  for  example, 
that  we  want  true  American  feeling.     On  this  point,  we  must 
refer  him  again  to  his  neighbors  of  the  Edmburgh  Review,  who, 
at  an  early  stage  in  our  progress,  pronounced  that  we  were 
*  abundant^  national,'  and  that  *  there  was  no  want  of  patriotic 
feeKng.'    The  intimation  evidently  was,  that  there  was  a  slight, 
perhaps  excusable,  excess  of  this  quality ;  and  we  think  we 
may  stffirm,  without  the  danger  of  being  contradicted,  that  there 
has  been  no  diminution  since.    Again,  we  ^  creep  in  the  train 
of  our  reviewers.*     As  a  full  defence  against  this  count  in  the 
indictment,  we  appeal  with  confidence  to  the  articles  which  we 
have  had  occasion,  at  various  times,  fi-om  the  commencement 
of  our  editorial  labors  up  to  the  present  day,  to  address  to  *our 
reviewers'  in  reply  to  their  strictures  upon  the  United  States. 
However  feebly  executed  in  other  respects,  our  readers  will 
do  us  the  justice  to  allow,  that  they  have  not  exhibited  any 
disposition  on  our  part  to  truckle  to  foreign  arrogance,  or  kiss 
the  rod  of  unjust  criticism.    We  defy  the  Scotsman  to  produce 
a  single  sentence  in  which  we  have  shown  an  mclmation  to 
court  the  favor  of  the  British  press,  or  of  any  other  portion  of 
the  British  public.     We  are  quite  aware,  on  the  contrary,  that 
the  tone  we  have  uniformly  maintained  m  this  respect,  is  not 
fitted  to  conciliate  the  good  will  of  our  transatlantic  brethren ; 
and  if  this  were  the  object  we  had  m  view,  we  should  of  course 
adopt  a  different  one.     A  few  compliments  to  their  national 
pride — a  few  sacrifices  to  their  national  interest — and  we  should 
soon  cease  to  be  '  a  pitifiil  organ  of  republican  America.'    We 
have  lately  seen  one  of  our  countrymen  raise  himself  to  the 
rank  of  *  the  highest  existing  authorities  in  political  economy,' 
hf  saying  that  die  British  have  eight  million  tons  of  shipping 
employed  in  the  coasting  trade.     Had  he  carried  his  calcula- 
tion up  to  ten  or  twelve  millions,  he  would  have  equalled  the 
fame  of  Adam  Smith.     For  ourselves,  we  look  exclusively  for 
encouragement  and  support  to  the  home  market.     We  court 
no  favor  from  foreigners,  and  our  only  ambition  is  to  merit  the 
approval  of  our  own  mtelligent  countrymen.    Far  fi:om  creeping 
in  the  train  of  '  our  reviewers,'  we  have  always  regarded  it  as 
being,  in  the  present  state  of  the  intercourse  between  the  two 
countries,  one  of  the  most  interesting  branches  of  our  editorial 
duty,  to  repel  the  attacks,  and  to  guard  our  fellow-citizens 
agsdnst  the  misrepresentations  of  the  British  journals ;  and  we 
have  uniformly  acted,  and  shall  contmue  to  act — as  far  as  occa- 
sion may  appear  to  require— on  this  principle. 


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64  Tone  ofJSriHsh  Criticism.  [July, 

As  the  charges  of  the  Scotsman,  whenever  they  assume  a 
tangible  shape,  are  thus  palpably,  and  even  ludicrously  incon- 
sistent with  fact,  the  general  accusation  which  he  deduces  from 
them  of  lukewarmness  in  the  cause  of  libeity  and  a  disposition 
to  sustain  exploded  errors  and  abuses,  of  course  falls  of  itself. 
The  truth  is,  that  it  is  very  difficult  for  us  b  this  country  to 
give  satisfaction  to  our  transatlantic  brethren,  whatever  bias  we 
may  happen  to  take.  Nothing  will  answer  but  direct  homage 
to  their  grossest  prejudices,  and  even  then,  we  must  expect  to 
be  told  that  their  approbation  of  us  is  merely  the  result  of  the 
national  politeness^  The  reproach  which  has  heretofore  been 
generally  made  against  the  American  press,  is  that  of  a  ten- 
dency to  exaggeration  in  the  expression  of  sentiments  favora- 
ble to  liberty.  We  have  been  told  that  we  confounded  mon- 
archy with  slavery,  that  our  notions  of  government  were  narrow 
and  intolerant,  and  that  we  could  see  nothmg  good  or  great  out 
of  the  circle  of  our  own  institutions.  We  have  been  charged, 
in  short,  with  being  ultra-democratic  in  our  political  opinions, 
and  this  heresy  is  undoubtedly  much  more  common  among  us 
than  the  opposite  one.  But  if  it  happen  by  accident  that  a 
journal  which  appears  at  long  intervals  of  time,  and  is  or  ought 
to  be  prepared  with  mpre  reflection,  expresses  the  same  opin- 
ions in  a  rather  more  deliberate  form  than  the  rest,  our  censors 
forthwith  attack  us  with  *  redoubled  rage,'  for  tlie  want  of  the 
same  quality,  of  which  we  were  before  reproached  with  the 
excess.  So  delicate  is  their  taste,  that  it  is  next  to  impossible 
not  to  offend  them  in  one  way  or  another.  If  violent,  we  are 
blind  and  bigoted  democrats — ^if  considerate,  we  are  lukewarm 
m  the  cause  of  liberty — at  all  events,  we  are  sJways  in  the 
wrong.  This  kind  of  criticism  is  so  easily  seen  through,  that 
it  would  be  superfluous  to  expose  the  injustice  of  it.  We  yield 
to  none,  as  we  have  akeady  remarked,  in  attachment  to  lib- 
erty ;  but  we  are  also  aware,  with  every  body  else  of  the  least 
reflection,  that  liberty,  like  other  good  things,  may  be  abused, 
and  that  the  name  is  often  assumed  by  false  pretenders  for  un- 
worthy purposes.  We  may  remark  here,  since  the  occasion 
presents  itself,  that  we  cannot  agree  m  all  the  principles  that 
are  set  forth  from  time  to  time  upon  this  subject  on  respectable 
authority  in  the  mother  country.  We  are  told  for  example,  in 
the  article  of  the  Edinburgh  Review,  upon  the  prose  writings 
of  Milton,  to  which  we  have  once  before  alluded,  that  liberty, 
like  a  certain  beautiful  fairy  in  the  poem  of  Ariosto,  sometimes 


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1830.]  Tone  of  British  Criticim.  65 

^piuts  on  the  fonn  of  a  hateful  reptile — that  she  grovels,  and 
hisses,  and  stings ;  but  that  we  must  admire  and  cherish  her  in 
thb  degraded  and  frightful  shape,  if  we  mean  to  be  rewarded 
by  her  in  the  time  of  her  beauty  and  her  glory.'  All  this 
means,  if  it  mean  any  thing,  that  the.  real  friends  of  liberty  are 
not  only  bound  to  approve,  to  concur  in,  and  to  sympathise 
with  the  rational  and  well-directed  exertions  of  the  honest  and 
intelligent  laborers  in  her  cause,  but  also  to  applaud  and  aid 
every  charlatan,  who  chooses  for  any  purpose,  however  vile,  to 
wear  her  mask.  But  a  few  moments  since  we  were  invited,  as 
friends  of  liberty,  to  grovel  at  the  footstool  of  Bonaparte,  and 
we  are  now  called  upon,  always  in  the  same  character,  to  take 
counsel  with  Robespierre — ^to  yell  with  Marat  for  two  hundred 
thousand  heads — to  listen  with  delighted  attention  to  the  *  ora- 
tor of  the  human  race,'  and  to  bow  with  reverential  awe  at  the 
idirine  of  the  unveiled  Goddess  of  Reason.  However  highly 
we  may  value  the  approbation  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  and 
the  Scotsman,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  distinctly,  that 
we  shall  not  purchase  it  at  such  a  price ;  and  since  these  wri- 
ters express  their  opinion  with  so  much  freedom  upon  our  con- 
duct, we  would  ask  them  in  turn  how  it  happens  that  they  do 
not  set  us  the  example  as  well  as  -give  us  the  precept  ?  How 
happens  it  that  they  pay  no  court  themselves  to  their  goddess, 
in  her  groveUing,  hissing,  stinging  shape  ?  Why  is  it  that  we 
do  not  find  them  clamoring  with  Hunt  and  Cobbett — ^blas- 
pheming with  Carlile, — and  outraging  decency  with  Mary  Wool- 
stonecraft  and  Fanny  Wright?  All  this  and  more  they  are 
bound  to  do  on  their  own  system,  but  of  all  this  we  see  little 
or  nothing  in  their  writings,  to  judge  at  least  from  the  '  casual 
numbers  of  the  Scotsman  that  accidentally  stray  into  our  hands,' 
and  from  *  perusing  at  one  time  or  another  a  considerable  por- 
tion of  the  lucubrations'  of  the  Edinburgh  Reviewers.  The 
simple  truth  appears  at  last  to  be,  that  at  the  very  moment  when 
they  are.  ridiculing  and  abusing  us  for  lukewaminess  in  the 
cause  of  liberty,  dieir  own  language  is  much  less  liberal  than 
ours.  So  much  for  the  consistency  and  decency,  of  these 
would-be  dictators  in  the  republic  of  letters. '  As  respects  the 
system  they  recommend  to  us,  and  the  allegory  by  which 
it  is  illustrated,  we  may  add,  that  they  involve  a  mistake  in 
fact,  which  was  long  ago  pointed  out  by  the  great  English 
apostle  of  the  rights  of  man.  The  degraded  and  frightful 
shape,  which  in  days  of  trouble  has  often  appeared  under  the 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  9 


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66  Asylum  for  the  Blind*  I^uty^ 

name  and  character  of  Uherty^  is  not,  as  we  are  told  by  Mil- 
ton, the  sweet  mountamHijmph  herself  in  disguise,  but  a  ghastly 
counterfeit  of  her  charming  appearance,  animated  by  the  foul 
spirit  of  Liceme — a  malignant  demon,  tormented  by  a  continual 
thirst  forhuman  blood.  Like  the  Vampyre  Bride  in  Goethe's 
poem,  this  loathscnne  figure  puts  on  specious  looks,  and  uses 
honied  words — ^wears  perhaps  upon  her  brow  the  golden  round 
of  military  triumph,  or  the  red  cap  of  deliverance  from  bonjd** 
age ;  but  her  only  delight  is  to  suck  out  the  life  of  her  victims. 
Her  touch  is  fatal ;  there  is  no  remedy  for  it ;  those  who  take 
her  to  their  bosoms  shall  surely  die. 


Art.  III. — An  Act  to  Incorporate  the  J^ew-England  Asylum 
for  the  Blind.     Approved,  March  2d,  1829. 

There  is  nothing  in  which  the  Moderns  surpass  the  Ancients 
more  (Conspicuously  than  in  their  noble  provisions  for  the  relief 
of  mdigetice  and  distress.  The  public  policy  of  the  Ancients 
seems  to  have  embraced  only  whatever  might  promote  the 
aggrandizement>  or  the  direct  prosperity  of  the  state,  and  to 
have  cared  little  for  those  unfortunate  beings,  who  fi-om  disease 
or  incapacity  of  any  kind,  were  disqualified  fi'om  contributing 
to  this.  The  beneficent  influence  of  Christianity,  however, 
combined  with  the  general  tendency  of  our  social  mstitutions, 
has  led  to  the  recognition  of  rights  in  the  individual  as  sacred 
as  those  of  the  community^  and  has  suggested  manifold  provi- 
sions for  personal  comfort  and  happiness. 

The  spirit  of  benevolence,  thus  widely,  and  oftentimes  judi- 
ciously exerted,  continued  until  a  very  recent  period,  however, 
strangely  insensible  to  the  claims  of  a  large  class  of  objects,  to 
whom  nature,  and  no  misconduct  or  imprudence  of  their  own, 
as  is  too  often  the  case  with  the  subjects  of  public  charity, 
had  denied  some  of  the  most  estimable  faculties  of  man.  No 
suitable  institutions,  until  the  close  of  the  last  century,  have 
been  provided  for  the  nurture  of  the  deaf  and  dumb,  or  the 
blmd.  Immured  withm  hospitals  and  alms-houses,  like  so 
many  lunatics  or  incurablies,  they  have  been  delivered  over, 
if  they  escaped  the  physical,  to  all  the  moral  contagion  too 
frequently  incident  to  such  abodes,  and  have  thus  been  mvolved 
in  a  mental  darkness  far  more  deplorable  than  their  bodily  one. 


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1830.]  A^ylvm  for  the  Blind.  67 

This  iqudicious  treatment  has  resulted  from  the  erroneous 
principle  of  viewing  these  unfort«inate  beings  as  an  absolute 
burthen  on  the  public,  utterly  incapable  of  contributing  to  their 
own  subsistence,  or  of  mi^iistering  in  any  degree  to  their  own 
mtellectual  wants.  Instead,  however,  of  being  degraded  by 
such  unworthy  views,  they  should  have  been  regarded  as,  what 
in  truth  they  are,  possessed  of  corporeal  and  mental  capacities 
perfectly  competent,  under  proper  management,  to  the  produc- 
tion of  the  most  useful  results.  If  wisdom. from  one  entrance 
was  quite'  shut  out,  other  avenues  for  its  admission  still  re- 
mained to  be  opened. 

In  order  to  give  effective  aid  to  persons  in  this  predicament, 
it  is  necessary  to  place  ourselves  as  far  as  possible  in  their 
peculiar  situation ;  to  consider  to  what  faculties  this  insulated 
condition  is  on  the  whole  most  favorable,  and  in  what  direc- 
tion they  can  be  exercised  with  the  best  chance  of  success. 
Without  such  foresight,  all  our  endeavors  to  aid  them  will  only 
put  them  upon  efforts  above  their  strength,  and  result  in  serious 
mortification. 

•The  blind,  from  the  cheerful  ways  of  men  cut  off,  are  neces- 
sarily excluded  from  the  busy  theatre  of  human  action.  Their 
infirmity,  however,  which  consigns  them  to  darkness,  and  often 
to  solitude,  would  seem  favorable  to  contemplative  habits,  and 
to  the  pursuits  of  abstract  science  and  pure  speculation.  Un- 
disturbed by  external  objects,  the  mind  necessarUy  turns  within 
and  concentres  its  ideas  on  any  point  of  investigation. with 
greater  intensity  and  perseverance.  It  is  no  uncommon  thing, 
dierefore,  to  find  persons  setting  apart  the  silent  hours  of  the 
evening  for  the  purpose  of  composition,  or  other  purely  intel- 
lectual exercise.  Malebranche,  when  he  wished  to  think 
intensely,  used  to  close  his  shutters  in  the  day-time,  excluding 
every  ray  of  light;  and  hence,  Democritus  is  said  to  have  put 
out  bis  eyes  in  order  that  he  might  philosophize  the  better ; 
a  story,  it  is  true,  the  veracity  of  which  Cicero,  who  relates  it, 
is  prudent  enough  not  to  vouch  for. 

Blindness  must  also  be  exceedingly  favorable  to  the  disci- 
pGne  of  the  memory.  Whoever-has  had  the  piisfortune,  froxa 
any  derangement  of  the  organ,  to  be  compelled  to  derive  his 
knowledge  of  books  less  from  the  eye  than  the  ear,  will  feel 
the  truth  of  this.  The  difficulty  of  recalling  what  has  once 
escaped,  of  revertmg  to,  or  dwelling  on  the  passages'  read 
aloud  by  another,  compels  the  Hearer  to  give  undivided  atton- 


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J 


68  Asylum  fir  the  Blind*  [July, 

tion  to  the  subject,  and  to  impress  it  more  forcibly  on  bis  own 
mind  by  subsequent  and^  methodical  reflection.  Instances  of 
the  cultivation  of  this  faculty  to  an  extra(»rdinary  extent, 
therefore,  have  been  witnessed  among  the  blind,  and  it  has 
been  most  advantageously  applied  to  the  pursuit  of  abstract 
science,  especially  mathematics. 

One  of  the  mbst  eminent  illustrations  of  our  preceding  re- 
marks is  the  well-known  history  of  Saunderson,  who  having 
been  deprived  in  his  infancy,  not  only  of  sight  but  of  the  organ 
itself,  contrived  to  becc^ne  so  well  acquainted  with  the  Greek 
tongue  as  to  read  the  works  of  the  ancient  mathematicians  in 
the  original.  He  made  such  advances  in  the  higher  depart- 
ments of  the  science,  that  he  was  appointed,  though  not  matric- 
ulated at  the  university,  to  fill  the  chair  which  a  short  time  pre- 
vious had  been  occupied  by  Sir  Isaac  Newton  at  Cambridge. 
The  lectures  of  this  blind  professor  on  the  most  abstruse  points 
of  the  Newtonian  philosophy,  and  especially  on  optics,  natu- 
rally filled  his  audience  with  admiration ;  and  the  perspicuity 
with  which  he  communicated  his  ideas  is  saiJ  to  have  beea 
unequalled.  He  was  enabled,  by  the  force  of  his  memory,  to 
perform  many  long  operations  in  arithmetic,  and  to  carry  in 
his  mind  the  most  complex  geometrical  figures.  As,  however, 
it  became  necessary  to  supply  the  want  of  vision  by  some  sym- 
bols which  might  be  sensible  to  the  touch,  he  contrived  a  table 
in  which  pins,  whose  value  was  determined  principally  by  their 
relative  position  tp  each  other,  served  him  iniAlad  of  figures ; 
while  for  his  diagrams  he  employed  pegs,  inserted  at  the  re- 
quisite angles  to  each  other,  representing  the  lines  by  threads 
drawn  around  them.  He  was  so  expert  in  his  use  of  these 
materials,  that  when  performing  his-  calculations  he  would 
change  the  position  of  the  pins  with  nearly  the  same  facility 
with  which  another  person  could  indite  figures  ;  and  when  dis- 
turbed in  Bn  operation,  would  afterwards  resimie  it  again,  ascer- 
taining the  posture  in  which  he  had  left  it  by  passmg  his  hand 
carefully  over  the  table.  To  such  shifts  and  inventions  does 
human  ingenuity  resort  when  stimulated  by  the  thirst  of  knowl- 
edge ;  as  the  plant  when  thrown  into  shade  on  one  side,  sends 
foilii  its  branches  eagerly  in  that  direction  where  the  hght  is 
permitted  to  fall  upon  it. 

In  like  manner,  the  celebrated  mathematician  Euler  contin- 
ued, for  many  years  after  he  became  blind,  to  indite  and  pub- 
lish the  results  of  bis  scientific  labors,  and  at  the  time  of  his 


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ISSO.]  Asylum  for  the  Blind.  69 

decease  left  nearly  a  hundred  memoirs  ready  for  the  press, 
most  of  which  have  since  been  given  to  the  world.  An  exam- 
ple of  diligence  equally  indefatigable,  tliough  turned  in  a  differ- 
ent channel,  occurs  in  our  contemporary  Huber,  who  has  con- 
tributed one  of  the  most  delightful  volumes  within  the  compass 
of  natural  history,  and  who,  if  he  employed  the  eyes  of  another, 
guided  them  in  their  investigation  to  the  right  results,"  by  the 
hght  of  his  own  mind. 

Blindness  would  seem  to  be  propitious  also  to  the  exercise 
of  the  inventive  powers.  Hence  poetry,  from  the  time  of 
Tham3nris  and  blind  Maeonides  down  to  the  Welch  harper  and 
the  ballad-grinder  of  our  day,  has  been  assigned  as  the  pecu- 
liar province  of  those  bereft  of  vision  ; 

As  the  wakeful  bird 
Sings  darkling,  and  in  shadiest  covert  hid, 
Tunes  her  Doctumal  note. 

The  greatest  epic  poem  of  antiquity  was  probably,  as  that  of 
the  modems  was  certainly,  composed  in  darknoes.  It  is  easy, 
however,  to  understand  how  the  man,  who  has  once  s6en,  can 
recall  and  embody  forth  in  his  conceptions  new  combinations 
of  material  beau^ ;  but  it  would  seem  scarcely  possible,  that 
one  bom  blind,  excluded  from  all  acquaintance  with  'colored 
nature,'  as  Condillac  finely  styles  it,  should  excel  in  descrip- 
tive poetry.  Yet  there  are  eminent  examples  of  this ;  among 
others,  that  of  Blacklock,  whose  verses  abound  in  the  most 
agreeable  and  picturesque  images.  He  could  have  formed  no 
other  idea  of  colors,  however,  as  his  biographer  and  country- 
man Mackenzie  justly  remarks,  than  was  conveyed  by  their 
moral  associations,  the  source  mdeed  of  most  of  the  pleasures 
we  derive  from  descriptive  poetry.  It  was  thus  that  he  studied 
the  variegated  aspect  of  nature,  and  read  in  it  the  successive 
revolutions  of  the  seasons,  their  freshness,  their  prime,  and 
decay. 

Mons.  Guilli^  in  an  interesting  Essay  on  the  Instmctionof 
the  Blind,  to  which  we  shall  have  occasion  repeatedly  to  refer, 
quotes  an  example  of  the  association  of  ideas  in  regard  to 
colors,  which  occurred  in  one  of  his  own  pupils,  who  in  recit- 
ing the  well-known  passage  in  Horace, '  rvhente  dexterd  sacras 
jacuJatus  arces^^  translated  the  two  first  words  by  *  fiery,'  or 
•  burning  right  hand.'  On  being  requested  to  render  it  literally, 
he  called  it  '  red  right  hand ;'  and  gave  as  his  reason  for  Ins 
former  version,  that  be  could  form  no  positive  conception  of  a 


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70  Asylum  for  the  Blind.  [July* 

red  color;  but  that  as  fire  was  said  to  be  red,  he  connected 
the  idea  of  heat  with  this  color,  and  had  therefore  interpreted 
the  wrath  of  Jupiter  demolishing  town  and  tower,  by  the  epi* 
thet,  'fiery  or  burning;'  for  'when  people  are  angry,'  he 
added,  '  thejr  are  hot,  and  when  they  are  hot,  they  must  of 
course  be  red.'  He  certainly  seems  to  have  formed  a  much 
more  accurate  notion  of  red,  than  Locke's  blind  man. 

But  while  a  gift  for  poetry  belongs  only  to  the  inspired  few, 
and  while  many  have  neither  taste  nor  talent  for  mathematical 
or  speculative  science,  it  is  a  consolation  to  reflect  that  the 
humblest  individual,  who  is  destitute  of  sight,  may  so  far  sup- 
ply this  deficiency  by  the  perfection  of  the  other  senses,  as  by 
their  aid  to  attain  a  considerable  degree  of  intellectual  cuhure, 
as  well  as  a  familiarity  with  some  of  the  most  useful  mechanic 
arts.  It  will  be  easier  to  conceive  to  what  extent  the  percep- 
tions of  touch  and  hearing  may  be  refined,  if  we  reflect  how 
iar  that  of  sight  is  sharpened  by  exclusive  reliance  on  it,  in 
c^tain  situations.  Thus  the  mariner  descries  objects  at  night, 
and  at  a*  distance  upon  the  ocean,  altogether  imperceptible  to 
the  unpractised  eye  of  a  landsman.  And  the  North  American 
Indian  steers  his  course  nndeviatingly  through  the  trackless 
wilderness,  guided  only  by  such  signs  as  escape  the  eye  of  the 
most  inquisitive  white  man. 

In  like  manner  the  senses  of  hearing  and  feeling  are  capa« 
ble  of  attaming  such  a  degree  of  perfection  in  a  blind  person, 
that  by  them  alone  he  can  distinguish  his  various  acquaintance 
and  even  the  presence  of  persons  whom  he  has  but  rarely  met 
before, — the  size  of  the  apartment,  and  the  general  locality  of 
thte  spots  in  which  he  may  happen  to  be, — and  guide  himself 
safely  acrbss  the  most  solitary  districts,  and  amid  the.  throng  of 
towns.  Dr.  Bew,  m  a  paper  in  the  Manchester  Collection  of 
Memoirs,  gives  an  account  of  a  blind  man  of  his  acquaintance 
in  Derbyshire,  who  was  much  used  as  a  guide  for  travellers  in 
the  night  over  certain  intricate  roads,  and  particularly  when  the 
tracks  were  covered  with  snow.  This  same  man  was  after- 
wards employed  as  a  projector  and  surve3ror  of  roads  ia.  that 
county.  We  well  remember  a  blind  man  in  the  neighboring 
town  of  Salem,  who  officiated  some  twenty  years  since  as  the 
town  crier,  when  that  functionary  performed  many  of  the  ad- 
vertising duties  now  usurped  by  the  newspaper,  making  his 
diurnal  round,  and  stopping  with  great  precision  at  every  cor- 
ner, trivium  or  quadrivium,  to  chime  his  'melodious  twang.* 


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1830.]  Jhyfumjwr  the  Blind.  71 

Yel  this  feat,  the  familiarity  of  which  prevented  it  from  occa« 
sioning  any  surprise,  could  have  resulted  only  from  the  nicest 
observation  of  the  undulations  of  the  ground,  or  bv  an  atten- 
tion tt>  the  currents  of  air,  or  the  difierent  sound  of  the  voice, 
or  other  noises,  in  these  openings,  signs  altogether  lost  upon  the 
man  of  eyes. 

Mons.  Gruillie  mentions  several  apparently  well-attested  anec* 
dotes  of  blind  persons,  who  had  the  pow^r  of  discriminating 
colors  by  the  touch.  One  of  the  individuals  noticed  by  him, 
a  Dutclunan,  was  so  expert  in  this  way,  that  he  was  sure  to 
come  off  conqueror  at  the  card-table  by  the  knowledge  which 
he  thus  obtained  of  hi3  adversary's  hand,  whenever  it  came  to 
his  turn  to  deal.  This  power  of  discrimination  of  colors,  which  > 
seems  to  be  a  gift  only  of  a  very  few  of  the  finear-fingered  gentry, 
must  be  founded  on  the  different  consistency  or  smoothness  of 
the  ingredients  used  in  the  various  dyes.  A  more  ceitam 
method  of  ascertaining  these  colors,  that  of  tasting  or  touching 
them  with  the  tongue,  is  frequently  resorted  to  by  the  blind, 
who  by  this  means  often  distinguish  between  those  analogous 
colors,  as  black  and  dark  blue,  red  and  pink,  which,  having  the 
greatest  apparent  affinity,  not  unfrequendy  deceive  the  eye. 

Diderot,  in  an  ingenious  letter  on  the  Blind,  a  Puiogt  de  cews 
qui  vaieni^  has  given  a  circumstantial  narration  of  his  visit  to  a 
blind  man  at  Puisseaux,  the  son  of  a  Professor  in  the  University 
of  Paris,  and  well  known  in  his  day  iW>m  the  various  accouH 
plishments  and  manual  dexteri^  which  he  exhibited,  remarkable 
in. a  person  in  his  situation.  Being  asked  what  notion  he  had 
formed  of  an  eye,  he  replied,  '  I  conceive  k  to  be  an  organ  on 
which  the  air  produces  the  same  effect,  as  this  staff  on  my 
hand.  If  when  you  are  looking  at  an  object,  I  should  interpose 
any  thing  between  your  eyes  and  that  dbjectj  it  would  prevent 

fou  fix>m  seeing  it.  And  I  am  in  the  same  predicament  idien 
seek  one  thing  with  my  staff  and  come  across  another.'  An 
explanation,  says  Diderot,  as  lucid  as  any  which  could  be  given 
by  Descarteli,  who,  it  is  singular,  attempts,  in  his  Dioptrics,  to 
explain  the  analogy  between  the  senses  of  feeling  and  seeing, 
by  figures  of  men  blindfolded,  groping  their  way  with  staffi  in 
their  hands.  This  same  intelligent  personage  became  so  £asniliar 
with  the  properties  of  touch  that  he  seems  to  have  accounted 
them  aknost  equally  valuable  with  those  of  vision.  On  being 
mterrogated  if  he  felt  a  great  desire  to  have  eyes,  he  answered, 
'  Were  it  not  for  the  mere  gratification  of  x^uriosity,  I  think  I 


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72  Asylum  for  the  Blind,  [July, 

should  do  as  well  to  wish  for  long  anns.  It  seems  to  me  that 
my  hands  would  inform  me  better  of  what  is  going  on  in  the 
moon,  than  yoiu:  eyes  and  telescopes ;  and  -then  the  eyes  lose 
the  power  of  vision  more  readily  than  the  hands  that  of  feeling. 
It  would  be  better  to  perfect  the  organ  which  I  have,  than  to 
bestow  on  me  that  which  I  have  not.' 

Indeed  the  ^  geometric  sense'  of  touch,  as  Bufien  terms  it, 
as  far  as  it  reaches,  is  more  faithful,  and  conveys,  oftentimes, 
a  more  satisfactory  idea  of  external  forms  than  the  eye  itself. 
The  great  defect  is,  that  its  range  is  necessarily  so  limited.  It 
is  told  of  Saunderson,  that  he,  on  one  occasion,  detected  by 
his  finger  a  counterfeit  coin,  which  had  deceived  the  eye  of  a 
connoisseiu:.  We  are  hardly  aware  how  much  of  our  dexterity 
in  the  use  of  the  eye  arises  from  incessant  practice.  Those 
who  have  been  relieved  from  blindness,  at  an  advanced  or  even 
early  period  of  life,  have  been  found  frequently  to  recur  to  the 
old  and  more  familiar  sense  of  touch,  b  preference  to  the  sight. 
The  celebrated  English  anatomist,  Cheselden,  mentions  several 
illustrations  of  this  fact,  in  an  account  given  by  him  of  a  blind 
boy,  whom  he  had  successfully  couched  for  cataracts,  at  the^ge 
of  fourteen.  It  was  long  before  the  youth  could  discriminate 
by  his  eye  between  his  old  companions,  the  family  cat  and  dog, 
dissimilar  as  such  animals  appear  to  us  in  color  and  conformation. 
Being  ashamed  to  ask  the  oft-repeated  question,  he  was  observed 
one  day  to  pass  his  hand  carefidly  over  the  cat,  and  then,  look- 
ing at  her  steadfastly,  to  exclaim,  '  So,  puss,  I  shall  know  you 
another  time.'  It  is  more  natural  that  he  should  have  been 
deceived  by  the  illusory  art  of  painting ;  and  it  was  long  before 
he  could  comprehend,  that  the  objects  depicted  did  not  possess 
the  same  relief  on  the  canvass  as  in  nature.  He  inquired, 
*  Which  is  the  lying  sense  here,  the  sight  or  the  touch  ?' 

The  faculty  of  hearing  would  seem  susceptible  of  a  similar 
refinement  with  that  of  seeing.  To  prove  this  without  going 
into  further  detail,  it  is  only  necessary  to  observe  that  much 
the  larger  proportion  of  blind  persons  are  more  or  less  profi- 
cients in  music,  and  that  in  some  of  the  institutions  for  their 
education,  as  that  in  Paris  for  instance,  oS  the  pupils  are 
instructed  in  this  delightful,  art.  The  gift  of  a  natiural  ear  for 
melody,  therefore,  deemed  comparatively  rare  vdth  the  cZatr- 
voyansy  would  se^m  to  exist  so  far  in  every  individual  as  to  be 
capable,  by  a  suitable  cultivation,  of  afibrdmg  a  high  degree  of 
relish,  at  least  to  himself. 


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1830.]  /Asylum  for  the  Blind.  73 

As  in  order  to  a  successful  education  of  the  blind,  it  becomes 
necessary  to  understand  what  are  the  faculties,  intellectual  and 
corporeal,  to  the  developement  and  exercise  of  which  their 
peculiar  condition  is  best  adapted,  so  it  is  equally  necessary  to 
understand  how  far,  and  in  what  manner,  their  moral  constitu- 
tion is  likely  to  be  affected  by  the  insulated  position  in  which 
they  are  placed.  The  blind  man,  shut  up  within  the  precmcts 
of  his  own  microcosm,  is  subjected  to  influences  of  a  very  dif- 
ferent complexion  from  the  bulk  of  mankind,  masmuch  as  each 
of  the  senses  is  best  iStted  to  the  introduction  of  a  certain  class 
of  ideas  into  the  mind,  and  he  is  deprived  of  that  one  through 
which  the  rest  of  his  species  receive  by  far  the  greatest  number 
of  theirs.  Thus  it  will  be  readily  understood  that  his  notions 
of  modesty  and  delicacy  may  a  good  deal  differ  from  those  of 
the  world  at  large.  The  blind  man  of  Puisseaux  confessed 
that  he  could  not  comprehend  why  it  should  be  reckoned  im- 

E roper  to  expose  one  part  of  the  person  rather  than  another, 
[ideed  the  conventional  rules,  so  necessarily  adopted  in  society 
in  this  relation,  might  seem,  in  a  great  degree,  superfluous  in 
a  blind  community. 

The  blind  man  would  seem  also  to  be  less  likely  to  be  en- 
dowed with  the  degree  of  sensibility  usual  with  those  who  enjoy 
the  blessing  of  sight.  It  is  difficult  to  say  how  much  of  our 
early  education  depends  on  the  looks,  the  frowns,  the  smiles, 
the  tears,  the  example,  in  fact,  of  those  placed  over  and  around 
us.  From  all  this,  the  blind  child  is  necessarily  excluded. 
These,  however,  are  the  great  sources  of  s)niipathy.  We  feel 
litde  for  the  joys  or  the  sorrows  which  we  do  not  witness. 
*Out  of  sight,  out  of  mind,'  says  the  old  proverb.  Hence 
people  are  so  ready  to  turn  away  from  distress,  which  they 
cannot,  or  their  avarice  will  not  suffer  them  to  relieve.  Hence, 
too,  persons,  whose  compassionate  hearts  would  bleed  at  the 
infliction  of  any  cruelty  on  so  large  an  animal  as  a  horse  or  a 
dog,  for  example,  will  crush  without  concern  a  wilderness  of 
insects,  whose  delicate  organization,  and  whose  bodily  agonies 
are  imperceptible  to  the  naked  eye.-  The  slightest  mjury 
occurring  in  our  own  presence,  affects  us  infinitely  more  than 
the  tidings  of  the  most  murderous  battle,  or  the  sack  of  the  most 
populous  and  flourishing  city  at  the  extremity  of  the  globe. 
Yet  such,  without  much  exaggeration,  is  the  relative  position 
of  the  blind,  removed  by  their  infirmity  at  a  distance  from  the 
world,  from  the  daily  exhibition  of  those  mmgled  scenes  of 
VOL..  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  10 


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74  Jhyhm  far  the  Blind.  [July, 

grief  and  gladness,  which  have  their  most  important  uses,  per- 
haps, in  calling  forth  our  sympathies  for  our  fellow  creatures. 

It  has  heen  affirmed  tliat  the  situation  of  the  blind  is  unpro- 
pitious  to  religious  sentiment.  They  are  necessarily  insensible 
to  the  grandeur  of  the  spectacle,  which  forces  itself  upon  our 
senses  every  day  of  our  existence.  The  magnificent  map  of 
the  heavens,  with 

<  Every  star 
Which  the  clear  concave  of  a  winter's  night 
Pours  on  the  eye,' 

is  not  unrolled  for  them.  The  revolutions  of  the  seasons,  with 
all  their  beautiful  varieties  of  form  and  color,  and  whatever 
glories  of  the  creation  lift  the  soul  in  wonder  and  gratitude  to 
the  Creator,  are  not  for  them.  Their  world  is  circumscribed 
by  the  little  circle  which  they  can  span  with  their  own  arms. 
All  beyond  has  for  them  no  real  existence.  This  seems  to 
have  passed  withm  the  mind  of  the  mathematician  Saunderson, 
whom  we  have  more  than  once  referred  to,  and  whose  notions 
of  a  Deity  would  seem  to  have  been,  to  the  last,  exceedingly 
vague  and  unsetded.  The  clergyman,  who  visited  him  in  bis 
latter  hours,  endeavored  to  impress  upon  him  the  evidence  of  a 
God,  as  afforded  by  the  astonishing  mechanism  of  the  universe: 
*  Alas !'  said  the  dying  philosopher,  *  I  have  been  condemned 
to  pass  my  life  in  darkness,  and  you  speak  to  me  of  prodigies 
which  I  cannot  comprehend,  and  which  can  only  be  felt  by 
you,  and  those  who  see  like  you!'  When  reminded  of  the 
faith  of  Newton,  Leibnitz,  and  Clarke,  minds  from  whom  he 
had  drunk  so  deeply  of  instruction,  and  for  whom  he  enter- 
tained the  profoundest  veneration,  he  remarked ;  '  The  testi- 
mony of  Newton  is  not  so  strong  for  me,  as  that  of  Nature 
was  for  him ;  Newton  believed  on  the  word  of  God  himself, 
while  I  am  reduced  to  believe  on  that  of  Newton.'  He  ex- 
pired with  this  ejaculation  on  his  lips,  '  God  of  Newton,  have 
mercy  on  me !' 

These,  however,  may  be  considered  as  the  peevish  ebullitions 
of  a  naturally  skeptical  and  somewhat  disappointed  spirit,  im- 
patient of  an  infirmity  which  obstructed,  as  he  conceived,  his 
advancement  in  the  career  of  science  to  which  he  had  so  zeal- 
ously devoted  himself.  It  was  in  allusion  to  this,  undoubtedly, 
that  he  depicted  his  life  as  having  been  '  one  long  desire  and 
continued  privation.' 

It  is  far  more  reasonable  to  believe  that  there  are  certain 


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1830.]  Asylum  for  the  Blind.  75 

peculiarities  in  the  condition  of  the  blind,  which  more  thati 
counterbalance  the  unpropitious  circumstances  above  described, 
and  which  have  a  decided  tendency  to  awaken  devotional  sen- 
timent in  their  minds.  They  are  the  subjects  of  a  grievous 
calamity,  which,  as  in  all  such  cases,  naturally  disposes  the  heart 
to  sober  reflection,  and,  when  permanent  and  irremediable,  to 
passive  resignation.  Their  situation  necessarily  excludes  most 
of  those  temptations,  which  so  sorely  beset  us  in  the  wwld— - 
those  tumultuous  passions  which,  in  the  general  rivalry,  divide 
man  from  man,  and  embitter  the  sweet  cup  of  social  life— those 
sordid  appetites  which  degrade  us  to  the  level  of  the  brutes. 
They  are  subjected,  on  the  contrary,  to  the  most  healthful 
influences.  Their  occupations  are  of  a  tranquil,  and,  often- 
times, of  a  purely  intellectual  character.  Their  pleasures  are 
derived  from  the  endearments  of  domestic  intercourse ;  and  the 
attentions  almost  always  conceded  to  persons  in  their  dependent 
condition,  must  necessarily  beget  a  reciprocal  kindliness  of 
feeling  in  their  own  bosoms.  In  short,  the  uniform  tenor  of 
their  lives  is  such,  as  naturally  to  dispose  them  to  resignation, 
serenity,  and  cheerfulness ;  and  accordingly,  as  far  as  our  own 
experience  goes,  these  have  usually  been  the  characteristics  of 
the  blind. 

Indeed  the  cheei'&lness,  almost  universally  incident  to  per- 
sons deprived  of  sight,  leads  us  to  consider  blindness  as,  on  the 
whole,  a  less  calamity  than  deafness.  The  deaf  man  is  con- 
tinually exposed  to  the  sight  of  pleasures,  and  to  society,  in 
wiiich  he  can  take  no  part.  He  is  the  guest  at  a  banquet,  of 
which  he  is  not  permitted  to  partake;  the  spectator  at  a  theatre 
where  he  cannot  comprehend  a  syllable.  If  the  blind  man  is 
excluded  from  sources  of  enjoyment  equally  important,  he  has 
at  least  the  advantage  of  not  perceiving  and  not  even  compre- 
hending what  he  has  lost.  It  may  be  added,  that  perhaps  the 
greatest  privation  consequent  on  blindness,  is  the  inability  to 
read,  as  diat  on  dea&ess  is  the  loss  of  the  pleasures  of  society. 
Now  the  eyes  of  another  may  be  made  in  a  great  degree  to 
supply  this  defect  of  the  blind  man,  while  no  art  can  afford  a 
corresponding  substitute  to  the  deaf  for  the  privations  to  which 
he  is  doomed  in  social  intercourse.  He  cannot  hear  with  the 
ears  of  another.  As,  however,  it  is  undeniable  that  blindness 
makes  one  more  dependent  than  deafness,  we  may  be  content 
with  the  conclusion  that  the  former  would  be  the  most  eligible 
for  the  rich,  and  the  latter  for  the  poor.     Our  remarks  will  be 


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76  Asylum  for  the  Blind.  L^^Yi 

understood  as  applying  to  those  only  who  are  wholly  destitute 
of  the  faculties  of  sight  and  hearing.  A  person  afflicted  only 
with  a  partial  derangement  or  infirmity  of  vision,  is  placed  in 
the  same  tantalizing  predicament  ahove  described  of  the  deaf, 
and  is  consequently  found  to  be  usually  of  a  far  more  impatient 
and  irritable  temperament,  and  consequently  less  happy  than 
the  totally  blind.  With  all  this,  we  doubt,  whether  there  be  one 
of  our  readers,  even  should  he  assent  to  the  general  truth  of 
our  remarks,  who  would  not  infinitely  prefer  to  incur  partial  to 
total  blindness,  and  deafness  to  either.  Such  is  the  prejudice 
in  favor  of  eyes. 

Patience,  perseverance,  habits  of  industry,  and  above  all,  a 
craving  appetite  for  knowledge,  are  sufficiently  common  to  be 
considered  as  characteristics  of  the  blind,  and  have  tended 
greatly  to  facilitate  their  education,  which  must  otherwise  prove 
exceedingly  tedious,  and  indeed  doubtful  as  to  its  results,  con- 
sidering the  formidable  character  of  the  obstacles  to  be  encoun- 
tered. A  curious  instance  of  perseverance  in  overcoming  such 
obstacles  occurred  at  Paris,  when  the  institutions  for  the  Deaf 
and  Dumb  and  for  the  Blind  were  assembled  under  .the  same 
roof  in  the  convent  of  the  Celestines.  The  pupils  of  the  two 
seminaries,  notwithstanding  the  apparently  insurmountable  bar- 
rier interposed  between  them  by  their  respective  infirmities, 
contrived  to  open  a  communication  with  each  other,  which  they 
carried  on  with  the  greatest  vivacity. 

It  was  probably  the  consideration  of  those  moral  qualities,  as 
well  as  of  the  capacity  for  improvement,  which  we  have  des- 
cribed as  belonging  to  the  blind,  which  mduced  the  benevolent 
Haiiy,  in  conjyjiction  with  the  Philanthropic  Society  of  Paris, 
to  open  there  in  1784,  the  first  regular  semmary  for  their  edu- 
cation ever  attempted.  This  institution  underwent  several 
modifications,  not  for  the  better,  during  the  revolutionary  period 
which  followed,  until  in  1816,  it  was  placed  on  the  respectable 
basis  on  which  it  now  exists  under  the  direction  of  Dr.  Guilli6, 
whose  untiring  exertions  have  been  blessed  with  the  most  bene- 
ficial results. 

We  shall  give  a  brief  view  of  the  coiurse  of  education  pur- 
sued under  his  direction,  as  exhibited  by  him  in  the  valuable 
treatise  to  which  we  have  already  referred,  occasionally  glanc- 
ing at  the  method  adopted  in  the  corresponding  institution  at 
Edinburgh, 

The  fundamental  object  proposed  m  every  scheme  of  educa- 


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18S0.]  Asylum  far  the  Blind.  77 

tion  for  the  blind,  is  to  direct  the  attention  of  the  pupil  to  those 
studies  and  mechanic  arts,  which  he  will  be  able  afterwards  to 
pursue  hj  means  of  his  own  exertions  and  resources,  without 
any  external  aid.  The  sense  of  touch  is  the  one  therefore 
almost  exclusively  relied  on.  The  iSngers  are  the  eyes  of  the 
blind.  They  are  taught  to  read  in  Paris,  by  feeling  the  sur- 
face of  metallic  types,  and  in  Edinburgh  by  means  of  letters 
raised  on  a  blank  leaf  of  paper.  If  tliey  are  previously  ac- 
quainted with  spelling,  which  may  be  easily  taught  them  before 
entering  the  institution,  they  learn  to  discriminate  the  several 
letters  with  great  facility.  Their  perceptions  get  to  be  so  fine 
by  practice,  that  they  can  discern  even  the  finest  print,  and 
when  the  fingers  fail,  them,  rea(li>y  distinguish  it  by  applying  the 
tongue.  A  similar  method  is  employed  for  instructing  them  in 
figures,  the  notation  table  invented  by  Saunderson,  and  once 
used  in  the  Paris  seminary,  having  been  abandoned  as  less 
simple  and  obvious,  although  his  sjrmbols  for  the  representa- 
tion of  geometrical  diagrams  are  still  retamed. 

As  it  would  be  labor  lost  to  learn  the  art  of  reading,  without 
having  books  to  read,  various  attempts  have  been  made  to  sup- 
ply this  desideratum.  The  first  hint  of  the  form,  now  adopted 
for  the  impression  of  these  books,  was  suggested  by  the  ap- 
pearance exhibited  on  the  reverse  side  of  a  copy  as  removed 
firesh  fi:om  the  printing-press.  In  imitation  of  tiiis,  a  leaf  of 
paper  of  a  firm  texture  is  forcibly  impressed  with  types  un- 
stained by  ink,  and  larger  than  the  ordinary  size,  until  a  suffi- 
ciently bold  relief  has  been  obtamed  to  enable  the  blind  person 
to  distinguish  the  characters  by  the  touch.  The  French  have 
adopted  the  Italian  hand,  or  one  very  like  it,  for  the  fashion  of 
the  letters,  while  the  Scotch  have  invented  one  more  angular 
and  rectilinear,  which,  besides  the  advantage  of  greater  com- 
pactness, is  found  better  suited  to  accurate  discrimination  by 
the  touch,  than  smooth  and  extended  curves  and  circles. 

Several  important  works  have  been  already  printed  on  this 
plan,  viz. — a  portion  of  the  Scriptures,  catechisms,  and  offices 
for  daily  prayer,  grammars  in  the  Greek,  Latin,  French, 
English,  Italian,  and  Spanish  languages,  a  Latin  selecits,-  a 
Geography,  a  course  of  General  History,  a  selection  from 
English  poets  and  prose-writers,  a  course  of  Literature,  with  a 
compilation  of  the  choicest  specimens  of  French  eloquence. 
With  all  this,  the  art  of  printing  for  the  blind  is  still  in  its 
infancy.     The  characters  are  so  unwieldy,  and  the  leaves 


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78  jSjsylvm  for  the  Blind.  [July, 

(which,  cannot  be  printed  on  the  reverse  side,  as  this  woiiM 
flatten  ithe  letters  upon  the  other),  are  necessarily  so  numeroas 
as  to  make  the  volume  exceedingly  bulky,  and  of  course 
expensive.  The  Gospel  of  St.  John,  for  example,  expands 
into  three  large  octavo  volumes.  Some  further  improvement 
must  occur,  therefore,  before  the  invention  can  become  exten* 
sively  useful.  There  can  be  no  reason  to  doubt  of  such  a 
result  eventually,  for  it  is  only  by  long  and  repeated  experi-^ 
ment,  that  the  art  of  printing  in  the  usual  way,  and  every 
other  art,  indeed,  has  been  brought  to  its  present  perfection. 
Perhaps  some  mode  may  be  adopted  like  that  of  stenography, 
which,  although  encumbering  the  learner  with  some  additional 
difficulties  at  first,  may  abundantly  compensate  him  in  the  con- 
densed forms,  and  consequendy  Chester  and  more  numerous 
publications  which  could  be  a^rded  by  it.  Perhaps  ink,  or 
some  other  material  of  greater  consistency  than  that  ordinarily 
used  in  printing,  may  be  devised,  which,  when  communicated 
by  the  type  to  the  paper,  will  leave  a  character  sufficiency 
raised  to  be  distinguished  by  the  touch.  We  have  known  a 
blind  perscHi  able  to  decypher  die  characters  in  a  piece  of 
music,  to  which  the  ink  bad  been  imparted  more  liberally 
than  usual.  In  the  mean  time,  what  has  been  already  done, 
has  conferred  a  service  on  the  blmd,  which  we,  who  become 
insensible  from  the  very  prodigality  of  our  blessings,  cannot 
rightly  estimate.  The  glimmering  of  the  taper,  which  is  lost 
in  the  blaze  of  day,  is  sufficient  to  guide  the  steps  of  the  wan* 
derer  in  darkness.  The  unsealed  volume  of  Scripture  wiD 
furnish  him  with  the  best  sources  of  consolation  under  every 
privation  ;  the  various  grammars  are  so  many  keys  with  which 
to  unlock  the  stores  of  knowledge,  that  he  may  enrich  himself 
with  in  after  life ;  and  the  selections  from  the  most  beautiful 
portions  of  elegant  literature  will  afford  him  a  permanent  source 
of  recreation  and  delight. 

One  method  used  for  instruction  in  writing,  is  to  direct  the 
pencil  or  stylus  in  a  groove  cut  in  the  fashion  of  the  different 
letters.  Odier  modes,  however,  too  complex  for  description 
here,  are  resorted  to,  by  which  die  blind  person  is  enabled  not 
only  to  write,  but  to  read  what  he  has  thus  traced.  A  portable 
writing-case  for  this  purpose  has  also  been  invented  by  one  of 
the  blind,  who,  it  is  observed,  are  the  most  ingenious  in  supply- 
ing, as  they  are  best  acquainted  with,  their  own  wants.  A  very 
simple  method  of  epistolary  correspondence,  by  means  of  a 


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1830.]  Asylum  jar  the  Blind.  79 

string-alphabet,  as  it  is  called,  consisting  of  a  cord  or  ribbon, 
in  which  knots  of  various  dimensions  represent  certain  classes 
of  letters,  has  been  devised  by  two  blind  men  at  Edinbiurgh. 
This  contrivance,  which  is  so  simple  that  it  can  be  acquired  in 
an  hour's  time  by  the  most  ordinary  capacity,  is  asserted  to  have 
the  power  of  conveying  ideas  with  equal  precision  with  the  pen. 
A  blind  lady  of  our  acquaintance,  however,  whose  iBne  under- 
standing and  temper  have  enabled  her  to  surmount  many  of  the 
difficulties  of  her  situation,  after  a  trial  of  this  invention,  gives 
die  preference  to  the  mode  usually  adopted  by  her  of  pricking 
the  letters  on  the  paper  with  a  pin ;  an  operation  which  she 
performs  with  astonishing  rapidity,  and  which,  in  addition  to 
the  advantage  possessed  by  the  string-alphabet,  of  being  legible 
by  the  touch,  answers  more  completely  the  purposes  of  episto- 
hury  correspondence,  since  it  may  be  readily  interpreted  by  any 
one,  on  being  held  up  to  the  light. 

The  scheme  of  instruction  at  the  institudon  for  the  blind  in 
Paris,  comprehends  geography,  history,  the  Greek  and  Latin, 
together  with  the  French,  Italian,  and  English  languages,  aritln 
metic,  and  the  higher  branches  of  mathematics,  music,  and  some 
of  the  most  useful  mechanic  arts.  For  mathematics,  the  pupils 
appear  to  discover  a  natural  aptitude ;  many  of  them  attaining 
such  proficiency  as  not  only  to  profit  by  the  public  lectures 
of  the  most  embent  professors  in  the  sciences,  but  to  carry 
away  the  highest  prizes  in  the  lyceums  in  a  competition  with 
those  who  possess  the  advantage  of  sight.  In  music,  as  we 
have  before  remarked,  they  all  make  greater  or  less  proficiency. 
They  are  especially  instructed  in  the  organ,  which,  firom  its 
frequency  in  the  churches,  aflfords  one  of  the  most  obvious 
means  of  obtaining  a  livelihood. 

The  method  of  tuition  adopted,  is  that  of  mutual  instruction. 
The  blmd  are  ascertained  to  learn  most  easily  and  expeditiously 
from  those  in  the  same  condition  with  themselves.  Two  male 
teachers,  with  one  ff-male,  are  in  this  way  found  adequate  to 
the  superintendence  of  eighty  scholars,  which,  considering  the 
obstacles  to  be  encountered,  must  be  admitted  to  be  a  small 
apparatus  for  the  production  of  such  extensive  results. 

In  teaching  them  the  mechanic  arts,  two  principles  appear 
to  be  kept  in  view,  namely,  to  select  such  for  each  individual 
respectively,  as  may  be  best  adapted  to  his  future  residence 
and  destination ;  the  trades,  for  example,  most  suitable  for  a 
sea-port,  being  those  least  so  for  the  country,  and  vice  versa. 


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80  Asylum  for  the  Blind.  [July, 

Secondly,  to  confine  their  attention  to  such  occupations  as  from 
their  nature  are  most  accessible  to,  and  which  can  be  most 
perfectly  attained  by  persons  in  their  situation.  It  is  absiurd 
to  multiply  obstacles  from  the  mere  vanity  of  conquering  them. 

Printing  is  an  art  for  which  the  blind  show  particular  talent, 
going  through  all  the  processes  of  composing,  serving  the  press, 
distributing  the  types,  fcc.  with  the  same  accuracy  with  those 
who  can  see.  Indeed  much  of  this  mechanical  occupation  with 
the  dair^oyans  (we  are  in  want  of  some  such  compendious 
phrase  in  our  language)  appears  to  be  the  result  rather  of  habit, 
than  any  exercise  of  the  eye.  The  blind  print  all  the  books 
for  their  own  use.  They  are  taught  also  to  spin,  to  knit,  in 
which  last  operation  they  are  extremely  ready,  knitting  very 
finely,  with  open  work,  &c.,  and  are  much  employed  by  the 
Parisian  hosiers  in  the  manufacture  of  elastic  vests,  shirts,  and 
petticoats.  They  make  purses  delicately  embroidered  with 
figures  of  animals  and  flowers,  whose  various  tints  are  selected 
with  perfect  propriety.  The  &igers  of  the  females  are  observed 
to  be  particularly  adapted  to  this  nicer  sort  of  work,  from  their 
superior  delicacy,  ordinarily,  to  those  of  men.  They  are 
employed  also  in  manufacturing  girths,  in  netting  in  all  its 
branches,  in  making  shoes  of  list,  plush,  cloth,  colored  skin,  &c, 
and  list  carpets,  of  which  a  vast  number  is  annually  disposed 
of.  Weaving  is  particularly  adapted  to  the  blind,  who  perform 
all  the  requisite  manipulation  without  any  other  assistance  but 
that  of  setting  up  the  warp.  They  manufacture  whips,  straw 
bottoms  for  chairs,  coarse  straw  hats,  rope,  cord,  pack-thread, 
baskets,  straw,  rush,  and  plush  mats,  which  are  very  saleable 
in  France. 

The  articles  manufactured  in  the  Asylum  for  the  Blind  in 
Scotland,  are  somewhat  different,  and  as  they  show  for  what 
an  extensive  variety  of  occupations  they  may  be  qualified  in 
despite  of  their  infirmity,  we  will  take  the  liberty,  at  the  hazard 
of  being  somewhat  tedious,  of  quoting  the  catalogue  of  them 
exhibited  in  one  of  their  advertisements.  The  articles  offered 
for  sale  consist  of  cotton  and  Imen  cloths,  ticked  and  striped 
Hollands,  towelling  and,  diapers,  worsted  net  for  firuit  trees ; 
hair-cloth,  hair-mats,  and  hair-ropes,  basket-work  of  every  de- 
scription ;  hair,  India  hemp,  and  straw  door-mats,  saddle- 
girths,  rope  and  twmes  of  all  kinds,  netting  for  sheep-pens, 
garden  and  onion  twine-nets,  fishing-nets,  bee-hives,  mattresses 
and  cushions,  feather-beds,  bolsters  and  pillows ;   mattresses 


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1830.]  ^^lum  fi^  the  Blind.  81 

and  beds  of  every  description  cleaned  and  repaired.  The 
labors  in  tliis  department  are  performed  by  the  boys.  The 
girls  are  employed  in  sewing,  knitting  stockings,  spinning, 
making  fine  banker's  twine, — ^and  various  works,  besides, 
usually  executed  by  well-educated  females. 

Such  is  the  emulation  of  the  blind,  according  to  Dr.  Guillii, 
in  the  institution  of  Paris,  that  hitherto  there  has  been  no  ne- 
cessity of  stimulating  their  exertions  by  the  usual  motives  of 
reward  or  punishment.  Delighted  with  their  sensible  pro- 
gress in  vanquishing  the  difficulties  incident  to  their  condition, 
they  are  content  if  they  can  but  place  themselves  on  a  level 
widi  the  more  fortunate  of  their  fellow-creatures.  And  it  is 
observed  that  many,  who  in  the  solitude  of  ttieir  own  homes, 
have  failed  in  their  attempts  to  learn  some  of  the  arts  taught  in 
this  institution,  have  acquired  a  knowledge  of  them  with  great 
alacrity,  when  cheered  by  the  sympathy  of  individuals  involved 
in  the  same  calamity  with  themselves,  and  with  whom  of  course 
they  could  compete  with  equal  probability  of  success. 

The  example  of  Paris  has  been  followed  in  the  principal 
cities  in  most  of  the  other  countries  of  Europe ; — in  England, 
Scotland,  Russia,  Prussia,  Austria,  Switzerland,  Holland,  and 
Denmark.  These  establishments,  which  are  conducted  on 
the  same  general  principles,  have  adopted  a  plan  of  education 
more  or  less  comprehensive,  some  of  them,  like  those  of  Paris 
and  Edinburgh,  involving  the  higher  branches  of  intellectual 
education,  and  others,  as  in  London  and  Liverpool,  confining 
themselves  chiefly  to  practical  arts.  The  results,  however, 
have  been  in  the  highest  degree  cheering  to  the  philanthropist, 
in  the  light  thus  poured  in  upon  minds  to  which  all  the  usual 
avenues  were  sealed  up, — in  the  opportunity  afibrded  them  of 
developing  those  latent  powers,  which  had  been  hitherto  wasted 
m  inaction, — and  in  die  happiness  thus  imparted  to  an  unfortu- 
nate class  of  beings,  who  now,  for  the  first  time,  were  permit- 
ted to  assume  tlieir  proper  station  in  society,  and  instead  of 
encumbering,  to  contribute  by  their  own  exertions  to  the  gene- 
ral prosperity. 

We  rejoice  that  the  inhabitants  of  our  own  city  have  been 
the  first  to  give  an  example  of  such  beneficent  institutions  in 
the  New  World.  And  it  is  principally  with  the  view  of  direct- 
ing the  attention  of  the  public  towards  it,  that  we  have  gone 
into  a  review  of  what  has  been  effected  m  this  wiay  in  Europe. 
The  credit  of  havmg  first  suggested  the  undertaking  here  is 
VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  68.  11 


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83  Jbylum  for  ikt  Blind*  [July, 

due  to  oui*  townsman,  Dr.  John  D.  Fisher,  tbnyigh  whose  ex- 
ertions aided  by  those  of  several  other  benevolent  individuals, 
the  subject  was  brought  before  the  Legblature  of  this  State ; 
and  an  Act  of  Incorporation  was  granted  to  the  petitioners, 
bearing  date  March  2d,  ]  829,  authorizing  them,  under  the 
title  of  the  'New-England  Asylum  for  the  Blind,'  to  hold 
property,  receive  donations  and  bequests,  and  to  exercise  the 
other  functions  usually  appertaining  to  similar  corporations. 

A  resolve  was  subsequently  passed,  during  the  same  session, 
requiring  the  selectmen  of  the  several  towns  throughout  the 
Commonwealth,  to  make  returns  of  the  number  of  blind  inhab- 
itants, with  their  ages,  periods  of  blindness,  personal  condition, 
&c.  By  far  theiarger  proportion  of  these  ifunctionaries,  how- 
ever, with  a  degree  of  apathy,  which,  does  them  very  little 
credit,  paid  no  attention  whatever  to  this  requisition.  With  the 
aid  of  such  as  did  comply  with  it,  and  by  means  of  circulars 
addressed  to  the  clergymen  of  the  various  parishes,  advices 
have  been  received  from  one  hundred  and  forty-one  towns, 
comprising  somewhat  less  than  half  of  the  whole  number  within 
the  State.  From  this  imperfect  estimate  it  would  appear,  that 
the  number  of  blind  persons  in  these  towns  amounts  to  two  hun- 
dred and  forty-three,  of  whom  more  than  one  fifth  are  imder 
thirty  years  of  age,  which  period  is  assigned  as  the  limit 
within  which  they  cannot  fail  of  receiving  all  the  benefit  to  be 
derived  from  the  system  of  instruction  pursued  in  the  institu- 
tions for  the  blind. 

The  proportion  of  the  blind  to  our  whole  population,  as 
founded  on  the  above  estimate,  is  SQmewhat  higher  than  that 
established  by  Zeune  for  the  corresponding  latitudes  m  Europe, 
where  blindness  decreases  in  advancing  from  the  equator  to 
the  poles,  it  being  computed  in  Egypt  at  the  rate  of  one  to  one 
hundred,  and  in  Norway  of  one  to  one  thousand,^  which  last  is 
conformable  to  ours. 

Assuming  the  preceding  estimate  as  the  basis,  it  will  appear 
that  there  are  about  five  hundred  blind  persons  in  the  State  of 
Massachusetts  at  the  present  moment ;  and  adopting  the  census 
of  1820,  there  could  not  at  that  time,  according  to  the  same 
rate,  be  less  than  sixteen  hundred  and  fifty  in  all  New-England, 
one  fifth  being  under  thirty  years  of  age, — a  number,  which  as 
the  blind  are  usually  retired  fi-om  public  observation,  far  ex- 
peeds  what  might  be  conceived  on  a  cursory  mspection. 

From  the  returns  it  would  appear  that  a  large  proponion  of 


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1830.]  Atylumf^r  the  Blind.  83 

the  blind  in  Metssachusetts  are  in  humble  circumstances ;  and 
a  still  larger  proportion  of  those  in  years,  indigent  or  paupers. 
This  is  imputable  to  their  having  learnt  no  trade  or  profession 
in  tlieir  youth.  So  that,  when  deprived  of  their  natural  guar- 
dians, they  have  necessarily  become  a  charge  upon  the  public. 

Since  the  year  1625,  an  appropriation  has  been  continued  by 
the  Legislature  for  the  purpose  of  maintaining  a  certain  number 
of  pupils  at  the  Asylum  for  the  Deaf  and  Dumb  at  Hartford. 
A  resolve  was  obtained  during  the  last  session  of  the  General 
Court,  authorizing  the  Governor  to  pay  over  to  the  Asylum 
for  the  Blind  whatever  balance  of  the  sum,  thus  appropriated, 
might  remain  in  the  Treasury  unexpended  at  the  end  of  the 
current  year;  and  the  same  with  every  subsequent  year  to 
which  the  grant  extended,  unless  otherwise  advised.  Seven 
hundred  dollars  only  have  been  realized  as  the  balance  of  the 
past  year,  a  sum  obviously  inadequate  to  ;he  production  of 
any  important  result,  and  far  inferior  indeed  to  what  had  been 
anticipated  by  the  friends  of  the  resolve.  On  the  whole,  we 
are  inclined  to  doubt,  whether  this  will  be  found  the  most 
suitable  mode  of  creating  resources  for  the  Asylum.  Although 
in  fact  it  disposes  only  of  the  superfluity,  it  has  the  appearance 
of  subtracting  from  the  positive  revenues  of  the  Deaf  and  Dumb, 
an  institution  of  equal  merit  and  claims  with  any  other  whatever. 
The  Asylum  for  the  Blind  is  an  establishment  of  too  much 
importance  to  be  left  thus  dependent  on  a  precarious  contingent, 
and  is  worthy,  were  it  only  in  an  economical  point  of  view,  of 
being  placed  by  the  State  on  some  more  secure  and  ample  basis. 

As  it  is,  the  want  of  fiipds  opposes  a  sensible  obstruction  to 
its  progress.  The  pressure  of  the  times  has  made  the  present 
moment  exceedingly  unfavorable  to  personal  solicitation,  al- 
though so  much  has  been  effected  in  this  way,  through  the 
liberality  of  %  few  individuals,  that,  as  we  understand,  prepara- 
tions are  now  making  for  procuring  the  requisite  instructers  and 
apparatus,  on  a  moderate  and  somewhat  reduced  scale. 

As  to  the  comprehensiveness  of  the  scheme  of  education  to 
be  pursued  at  the  Asylum,  whetlier  it  shall  embrace  intellectual 
culture,  or  be  confined  simply  to  the  mechanic  arts,  this  must,  of 
course,  be  ultimately  determined  by  the  extent  of  its  resources. 
We  trust,  however,  it  will  be  enabled  to  adopt  the  former 
arrangement,  at  least  so  far  as  Jo  afford  the  pupils  an  acquaint- 
ance with  the  elements  of  the  mbre  popular  sciences^  There 
is  sucti  a  diffusion  of  liberal  knowledge  among  all  classes  m  this 


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84  Asylum  far  the  Blind.  [July, 

countiy,  that  if  the  blind  are  suffered  to  go,  without  any  tincture 
of  it,  from  the  Institution,  they  will  always,  whatever  be  the 
skill  acquired  by  them  in  mechanical  occupations,  continue  to 
feel  a  sense  of  their  own  mental  inferiority.  The  connexion 
of  these  higher  with  the  more  direct  objects  of  the  In9titution 
will  serve,  moreover,  to  give  it  greater  dignity  and  importance. 
j\nd  while  it  will  open  sources  of  knowledge  from  which  many 
may  be  in  a  situation  to  derive  permanent  consolation,  it  will 
instruct  the  humblest  individual  in  what  may  be  of  essential 
utility  to  him,  as  writing  and  arithmetic,  for  example,  in  his 
intercourse  with  the  world. 

To  what  extent  it  is  desirable  that  the  Asylum  Ire  placed 
on  a  charitable  foundation,  is  another  subject  of  consideration. 
This  we, believe  is  the  character  of  most  of  the  establishments 
in  Europe.  That  in  Scotland,  for  instance,  contains  about  a 
hundred  subjects,  but  who,  with  their  families  included,  amount 
to  two  hundred  and  fifty  souls,  all  supported  from  the  labors  of 
the  blind,  conjointly  with  the  funds  of  the  Institution.  This 
is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  noblest  and  most  discriminating 
charities  in  the  world.  It  seems  probable,  however,  that  this 
is  not  the  plan  best  adapted  to  our  exigencies.  We  want  not  to 
maintain  die  blind,  but  to  put  them  in  the  way  of  contribuUng 
to  their  own  maintenance.  By  placing  the  expenses  of  tuition, 
board,  &c.  as  low  as  possible,  the  means«of  effecting  this  will 
be  brought  within  the  reach  of  a  large  class  of  them ;  and  for 
the  rest,  it  will  be  obvious  economy  in  the  State  to  provide 
them  with  the  means  of  acquiring  an  education  at  once,  that 
may  enable  them  to  contribute  permanently  towards  their  own 
support,  which  in  some  shape  or  other  is  now  chargeable  on 
the  public.  Perhaps,  however,  some  scheme  may  be  devised 
for  combining  both  these  objects,  if  this  be  deemed  preferable 
to  the  adoption  of  either  exclusively. 

We  are  convinced  that  as  for  as  the  Institution  is  to  rely  for 
its  success  on  public  patronage,  it  will  not  be  disappointed.  If 
once  successfully  in  operation,  and  brought  before  the  public 
eye,  it  cannot  fail  of  exciting  a  very  general  sympathy,  which 
in  this  country  has  never  been  refused  to  the  calls  of  humanity. 
No  one,  we  think,  who  has  visited  the  similar  endowments  in 
Paris  or  in  Edinburgh,  will  easily  forget  the  sensations  which 
he  experienced  on  witnessing  so  large  a  class  of  his  unfortunate 
fellow-creatures  thus  restored  from  intellectual  darkness  to  the 
blessings,  if  we  may  so  speak,  of  light  and  liberty.     There  is 


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1830.]  Oerman  Auoeiatum,  fyc.  85 

no  higher  evidence  of  the  worth  of  the  human  mind,  than  its 
capacity  of  drawing  consolation  from  its  own  resources  under 
80  heavy  a  privation ;  so  that  it  not  only  can  exhibit  resignation 
and  cheerfiubess,  but  energy  to  buist  the  fetters  with  which  it 
is  encumbered.  W1k>  could  refuse  his  sympathy  to  the  success 
of  these  efforts,— or  withhold  from  the  subject  of  them  the 
means  of  attaining  his  natural  level  and  usenilness  in  society, 
from  which  circumstances,  less  favorable  to  him  than  to  our- 
selves, have  hitherto  exckded  him  ? 


Art.  IV. — Bericht  ueber  die  Venammlung  Deutscher  Natur- 
forscher  und  Aerzte  in  Heideli>erg^  in  SeptenAer^  1829. 
Von  F.  TiEDEMANN  und  L.  Gmelin.  LReport  of  the 
Proceedings  at  the  Meeting  of  German  Naturalists  and 
Physicians  at  Heidelberg,  in  September,  1829.  By  F. 
TiEDEMANN  and  L.  Gmelin  .J  Heidelberg.  1829. 
Rede  J  gehalten  bei  der  Eroeffnungder  T^ermmmlung  Deutscher 
JSTaturforscher  und  Aerzte  inJBerlinf  am  ISten  September , 
1828.  Von  Alexander  von  Humboldt.  [Address  deliv- 
ered at  the  openmg  of  the  Meeting  of  German  Naturalbts 
and  Physicians  at  Berlin,  on  the  18th  of  September,  1828. 
By  Alexander  von  Humboldt.]     Berlin.     1828. 

Among  the  most  striking  charact^stics  of  the  present  age, 
are  the  general  facility  of  communication  existing  between  die 
nations  of  the  West,  the  Europeans  and  their  American  descen- 
dants, and  die  readiness  with  which  each  of  them  receives  from 
every  other,  whatever  may  be  usefully  applied  to  its  own  con- 
dition and  circumstances.  The  late  «rars  in  Europe  brought 
the  people  of  different  countries  into  closer  Connexion  thair  be*" 
fore,  and  thus  gave  birth  among  them  to  feelings  of  mutud 
re^ct ;  while,  by  rendering  them  weary  of  military  glory,  they 
tended  also  to  awaken  a  more  general  fondness  for  science  and 
the  arts  of  peace.  Even  England  has  cast  away  many  of  her 
ancient  prejudices,  and  has  become  more  willing  than  formerly, 
to  receive  instruction  from  other  natbns.  The  Frenchman  no 
longer  regards  Paris  as  the  only  city  worthy  of  the  attention  of 
a  traveller :  the  Spaniard  begins  to  be  sensible  of  the  absurdity 
of  bb  foolish  pride ;  Russia  herself  will  soon  be  included  in 


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88  German  Attadatum  of  [July, 

the  circle 'of  civilization;  and  mftnjr  of  the  prevailing*  miscon- 
ceptions and  false  opinions  respecting  the  East,  are  beginning 
to  disappear.  The  Chinese  are  no  longer  looked  upon  as  mere 
barbarians :  we  have,  in  short,  discovered,  in  the  language  of 
a  common  German  pnJverb,  that  tliere  are  men  beyond  the 
mountains.  The  world  is  daily  becoming  more  enlightened 
and  toore  just.  Before-  the  people  of  the  United  States,  Ues 
the  whole  Western  continent,  spread  out  like  the  prospect  from 
Ae  summit  of  a  4k)dntain-*-vast,  animated,  and  various;  and 
we  are  enabled,  by  the  unexampled  quickness  of  our  commu- 
nications with  other  countries,  to  adopt  immediately  from  them 
all  their  va^able  and  useful  improvements.  The  Latin  lan- 
guage, which,  in  the  middle  ages,  was  the  only  medium  of 
intercourse  among  men  of  learning,  is  now  supplanted  by  several 
others.  Books  are  published  at  the  same  time,  in  two  or  three 
different  dialects;  and  it  hits  become  indispensable  for  effery 
well-educated  man,  to  be  familiar  with  some  other,  beside  his 
vernacular  t6ngue.  We  would  not  be  understood  to  adopt 
the  common  opinion,  that  the  progress  of  civilization  has  been 
retarded  by  the  barriers  interposed  between  nations,  by  the 
difference  of  their  languages :  nor  do  we  consider  it  us  at  all 
unfortunate,  tha^  a  single  language*  does  not  universally  prevail. 
On  tlie  contrary,  we  are  convinced,  that  the  great  variety  of 
the  tongues  and  dialects  spoken  by  her  inhabitants,  is  one  of  the 
causes  of  the  superiority  which  Europe,  a  small  and  insignificant 

Eortion  of^  the  earth,  has  obtained  over  the  rest  of  the  Eastern 
emisphere.  Polite  literature  is  divided,  not  according  to 
eountries,  but  according  to  languages :  and  it  passes  in  each 
through  the  same  gradations,  from  the  earliest  efibrts  of  epic 
and  lyric  song,  to  refined  description  and  attic  wit;  as  the 
nation,  which  speaks  it,  passes- itself  through  the  various  stages 
of  civilization.  This  remark,  however,  cannot  with  justice  be 
appSed  to  the  exaet  sciences,  to  the  literature  of  the  mechanic 
irts,  or  to  geography.  Still,  if  one  language  only  had  been 
spoken  in  Europe,  our  admiration  would  hardly  have  been  at 
4he  same  time  excited  by  Camoens,  Ercilla,  Dante,  Ariosto, 
the  Nibelungenlied,*  and  Milton.  If  the  Danes  had  spoken  the 
same  language  as  the  Germans,  Denmark  could  hardly  have 
produced  so  many  distinguished  writers  in  the  short  interval 
between  Holberg  and  Oehlenschlaeger.  We  will  even  go 
forther,  and  assert,  that  the  humaa  intellect  would  not  have 
attained  to  its  present  degree  of  developement  in  so  many 


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1830.]  KatundkU  and  Thyddam.  87 

departments,  and  widi  so  many  shades  of  difference  in  eachj  if 
the  ideas  of  all  men  had  been  necessarily  expressed  in  the  same 
idiom.  Language  and  ideas  exert  a  constant  and  reciprot^al 
bfluence ;.  and  it  is  one  of  tlie  prineipal  charifis  of  the  study  of 
»  new  language,  that  it  discloses  to  us  tiew  ideas. 

The  Association,  the  title  of  whose  eighth  report  is  placed 
at  the  head  of  this  article,  appears  to  us  to  be  one  of  the  most 
striking  effects  of  the  increased  facility  and  desire  of  conunu* 
nication  between  difiereat  countries.  Kfioyledge  is  certainly 
rapidly  advancing.  We  do  not  accord  in  opinion  with  those, 
who  claim  for  the  present  age  a  superiority  in  every  branch  of 
civilization,  science  and  art ;  and  who  forget,  in  tl^ir  admira- 
tion of  Fulton,  that  the  application  of  the  paddie-wheel,  or  even 
the  fli^ere  wheel,  to  the  propulsion  of  vessels,  was  an  improve- 
meni  as  great  as  his :  but  we  believe,  that  particular  ages  have 
bees  4istinguished  by  certain  peculiar  attainments ;  and  that 
there  has  been  very  little,  if  any,  increase  of  skill  in  modem 
tiroes,  though  the  diffusion  of  it  has  become  more  general  and 
rapid.  We  are  of  the  opinion  just  indicated,  that  every  remark- 
able age  ha$  applied  its  ingenuity jBiid  activity  to  some  particular 
department,  in  which  it  has  excelled  preceding  and  subsequent 
ones.  The  favorite  studies  at  the  present  iiay  are  natural 
philosophy^  geography,  statistics,  and  the  application  of  science 
to  the  arts ;  and  the  zeal  and  success  with-which  they  have  been 
cuhivated,  cannot  be  too  highly  praised. 

I'he  Association  of  German  naturalists  and  ph3micians  is 
novel,  we  may  say,  unique  in  its  character  |  and  it  well  de- 
serves to  be  imitated  in  otlier  countries.  It  promises,  as  the 
reader  will  hereafter  perceive,  to  be  the  means  of  effectmg— 
what  is  most  earnestly  to  be  desired — a  scientific  union  of  the 
German  and  French  nations:  2|§d  we  deem  it,  therefore,  not 
unimportant  to  give  some  account  of  i(s  character  and  history. 

In  a  country,  in  which  natural  philosophy  is  so  important  an 
object  of  general  pursuit  as  it  is  in  Germany,  and  in  which  so 
many  professors  of  the  healing  art  are  distinguished,  as  their  an- 
nual discoveries  and  publications  abundantly  prove,  for  scientific 
attainments,  it  was  desirable,  that  men  of  science  should  become 
personally  acquainted  with  each  other ;  b  order  that  they  might 
more  readily  exchange  ideas,  aid  one  another  in  their  respective 
plans,  and  communicate  more  directly  and  with  greater  rapidity, 
mformation  that  could  not  well  be  conveyed  through  the  mediiim 
of  printed  transactions;  that  th#y  might,  in  short,  enjoy  the 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


88  German  AuociatUm  of  [July, 

animating  and  inspiring  influence  of  the  Zm'ng'  word^  and  con- 
solidate, as  far  as  might  be  practicable,  the  union  of  the  great 
republic  of  letters.  In  the  address,  of  which  the  tide  b  pre- 
fixed to  this  ahicle,  Baron  Humboldt  remarks,  that  *the 
ancients  felt  the  value  of  the  livii^  wordy  the  inspiring  influence 
which  superior  minds  exert  over  others,  and  the  enlightenmg 
effect  of  free  and  friendly  intercourse  on  the  state  of  opinion 
and  the  direction  of  mquiry.'  The  character  of  this  Asisocia- 
tion  may  be  more  accurately  described,  by  contrastmg  it  with 
two  institutions  of  an  opposite  character.  It  is  not  an  academy 
of  sciences,  the  purpose  of  which  is,  to  aid  profound  thmkers  in 
pursuing  their  deep  and  solitary  researches  into  the  recesses  of 
knowledge,  and  to  publish  learned  tiansactions.  Its  immediate 
object  is  to  produce  a  general  animation,  and  a  rapid  interchange 
of  ideas.  On  the  o^er  hand,  it  beai's  no  resemblance  to  the 
schools  of  the  middle  ages,  with  their  cold  and  vain  displays  of 
controversial  ingenuity.  It  aims  at  the  discovery  of  truth  by 
conversation,  and  not  at  the  exhibition  of  dialectic  skill.  As  the 
edifying  and  happy  influence  of  public  religious  services  is  uni- 
versally acknowledged,  while  private  devotion  is  also  an  incum- 
bent Christian  duty,  so  these  disciples  of  science  expect  and 
desire  to  edify  (Hie  another  by  their  combined,  as  well  as  by 
their  separate  labors.  The  union  in  an  actual  community  of 
men,  whose  purposes  are  the  same,  and  who  labor  in  the  same 
cause  of  art,  science,  politics,  and  religion,  but  who  are  scat- 
tered over  a  vast  extent  of  country,  cannot  fail  to  have  a  very 
salutary  effect.  It  is  alsD  the  object  of  this  Association,  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  the  various  museums,  collections,  and 
other  treasures  of  science,  in  different  parts  of  Germany ;  and 
its  meetings  are  held  in  successive  years,  at  different  places, 
alternately  in  the  northern  and  southern  parts  of  that  country.* 
Professor  Ludwig  Okenf  may  be  considered  as  the  founder 

*  This  Association  will  doubtless  remind  the  reader  of  Klopstock^ 
Bepublic  of  the  Learned,  though  there  is,  in  fact,  no  real  resemblance 
between  tnem. 

f  Oken  was  at  one  time  a  professor  at  the  University  of  Jena;  but  in 
1820,  the  Duke  of  Saxe- Weimar  was  compelled  by  the  Prussian  govern- 
ment to  dismiss  him,  on  account  of  his  political  opinions.  *  He  hved  for 
some  time  at  Aargau  in  Switzerland,  and  has  lately  been  appointed 
professor  at  the  University  of  Munich  by  King  Louis  of  Bavaria ;  who 
does  not  seem  inclined  to  tread  in  the  footsteps  of  the  Holy  Alliance. 
The  article  «Oken,»  in  the  ^Biograpkie  des  ConUmpmiinSy*  is  not,  ill 
aJI  respects,  accurate. 


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1830.]  KaturaUita  and  Physicians.  89 

of  this  interesting  and  useful  institution.  Its  origin  and  charac- 
ter will  be  best  explained  by  a  vi/sw  of  its  constitution,  of  which 
the  following  is  a  translation. 

*  §  1.  On  the  18th  of  September,  1822,  a  number  of  German 
naturalists  and  physicians  formed  an  Association  at  Leipzic,  which 
bears  the  name  of  the  Association  of  German  Naturalists  and 
Physicians, 

*  §  2.  The  principal  object  of  the  Association  is  to  afford  the 
naturalists  and  physicians  of  Germany  an  opportunity  of  becoming 
personally  acquainted  with  one  another. 

*  ^  3.  Every  author  of  a  work  on  natural  philosophy  or  medicine 
is  considered  as  a  member. 

'  §  4.  Inaugural  dissertations  are  not  regarded  as  scientific  works 
for  this  purpose. 

*  §  5.  There  is  no  election  of  members,  and  no  diplomas  are  given. 

*  §6,  Any  person  employed  in  the  study  of  natural  philosophy 
or  medicine,  is  permitted  to  attend  the  meetings. 

*  ^  7.  No  absent. member  has  a  right  to  vote. 

'  §  8.  All  questions  are  decided  by  a  majority  of  votes. 

'  §  9.  The  meetings  are  held  annually  with  open  doors.  They 
begin  regularly  on  the  I8th  of  September,  and  continue  several 
days. 

'  §  10.  The  place  of  meeting  is  annually  changed.  At  each 
meeting,  the  place  where  the  succeeding  one  is  to  be  held  is 
determined. 

'§11.  A  president  (Oeschaeftsfkiehrer)  and  secretary,  who 
must  reside  at  the  place  of  meeting,  manage  the  affairs  of  the 
Association  until  the  succeeding  meeting. 

^  12.  The  president  fixes  the  time  and  place  of  meeting,  and 
regulates  the  proceedings.  He  must,  therefore,  receive  previous 
information  when  any  paper  is  proposed  to  be  read. 

^13.  The  secretary  makes  a  record  of  the  proceedings,  keeps 
the  accounts  of  the  Association  and  maintains  its  correspondence. 

§  14.  These  two  officers  sign  in  the  name  of  the  Association. 

^  15.  They  notify  the  authorities  of  the  place  where  the  next 
meeting  is  to  be  held,  and  also  give  public  notice  of  the  same.     . 

§16.  At  each  meeting,  officers  are  chosen  for  the  next  year. 
If  the  persons  elected  decline,  the  officers  make  another  choice; 
and  may  also,  if  necessary,  change  the  place  of  meeting. 

§  17.  In  the  event  of  the  death  of  one  officer,  the  survivor 
appoints  another.  If  both  shall  die,  the  officers  of  the  preceding 
year  resume  their  offices. 

§  18.  The  Association  makes  no  assessment,  and  holds  no 
property,  with  the  exception  of  its  records.  Whatever  may  be 
exhibited,  continues  to  belong  to  the  exhibiter. 

VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  68.  12 ' 


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90  Oemum  Associaiian  cf  [i^9 


§  19.  The  expenses  of  the  meetings  are  defrayed  bj  the 
bers  present. 

§  20.  No  change  can  be  made  in  the  constitution,  until  after 
the  first  five  meetings. 

This  institution  accords  so  well  with  the  spirit  of  the  age^or 
at  least  with  the  spirit  of  the  Germans  in  their  ardent  pursuit 
of  natural  science,  that  its  meetings  which  were  held  for  the 
four  last  years  at  Dresden,  Munich,  Berlin  and  Heidelberg, 
were  remarkably  brilliant.  The  meeting  at  Heidelberg  in  1829 
was  attended  by  two  hundred  and  seventy-three  naturalists  and 
physicians,  among  whom  were  individuals  from  all  parts  of 
Germany^  and  ir^  Switzerland,  Poland,  Denmark  and  Tus- 
cany ;  together  with  seven  from  England,  nine  from  France, 
and  five  from  the  Netherlands. 

This  meeting  wais  rendered  particularly  iitf^resting  by  the 

Jresence  of  Baron  de  Ferussac,  director  of  the  '  Sodeti  du 
ivdletin  universel  pour  la  propagation  des  connoissancu  seien- 
tifiques  et  indusirieUes^*  who  appeared  as  the  representative  of 
that  Association,  and  for  a  purpose  which  will  be  best  explained 
by  the  following  letter,  addressed  by  him  to  the  president  of 
the  Society. 

Mr.  President, 

The  directors  of  the  Universal  Bulletin  have  imposed  upon 
me  the  duty  of  presenting  myself  before  the  meeting  of  German 
savans  at  Heidelberg,  to  express  their  wishes  and  their  hopes. 

'  The  statutes  of  the  Society,  and  the  catalogue  of  its  members, 
tc^ether  with  the  other  documents,  which  I  have  the  honor  to 
present  to  you,  will  enable  you  to  form  a  just  idea  of  its  character, 
and  of  its  means  of  influence. 

'  It  is  the  object  of  that  Association,  which  was  instituted  by 
virtue  of  a  decree  of  the  King  of  France,  issued  on  the  13th  of 
March,  1628,  upon  the  report  of  the  ministry  and  the  council 
of  state,  to  establish  a  permanent  connexion,  and  an  active  cor- 

*  The  Bulletin  Universd  des  Sciences  et  de  rindustrie  is  a  periodical 
journal  published  at  Paris,  and  divided  into  eight  sections,  of  each  of 
which  a  number  is  issued  monthly.  Baron  de  Femssac  is  tiie  general 
director.  He  is  assisted  by  eight  editors,  one  for  each  section.  The 
sections  are  arranged  as  follows.  1.  For  mathematical,  physical  and 
chemical  science  ;  2.  natural  history  and  geology ;  3.  medical  science ; 
4.  agriculture,  horticulture,  fishing,  and  sporting  in  general ;  5.  tech- 
nologj ;  6.  geography,  statistics,  political  econom^r,  voyages  and  travels ; 
7.  philology,  antiquities  and  history ;  8.  military  science. — Encydop<zdia 
Americana, 


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1830.]  JVaturalisti  and  Phyiicians.  91 

respoBdence  between  aJl  the  friends  of  science  and  the  usefol 
arts ;  to  the  ^id  that  the  ideas  and  labors  of  each  may  be  ren- 
dered accessible  and.  useful  to  all ;  for  without  this  the  progress 
of  all  must  of  necessity  be  slow,  and  valuable  results  far  less 
rapidly  effected. 

*  This  Association,  which  is  peculiarly  distinguished  by  its 
universal  character,  belongs  exclusively  to  no  one  nation,  to  no 
single  school,  to  no  particular  doctrine.  It  professes  to  labor 
for  the  public  good.  The  most  eminent  friends  of  science  in 
every  country  are  invited  to  become  its  members.  They  must 
in  every  state  constitute  a  committee  for  the  encouragement  of 
science,  and  for  facilitating  the  labor  and  researches  of  scientific 
men.  They  must  form  together  the  Senate  of  that  general  re- 
public of  science  and  industry,  which  is  every  day  so  rapidly 
increasing  with  the  progress  of  instruction  and  the  culture  of  the 
human  mind. 

*  The  unquestionable  importance  of  such  an  organization  to 
the  interest  of  science  and  men  of  learning,  as  well  as  to  the 
progress  of  civilisation,  has  induced  the  association  which  I 
have  the  honor  to  represent,  to  believe,  that  an  object  so  elevated 
and  generous  as  theirs,  will  attract  the  attention  of  the  assembly 
of  learned  men,  over  which  you  preside. 

*  For  these  reasons,  the  directors  of  the  Universal  Bulletin  be- 
lieve, that  it  belongs  to  an  assembly  so  remarkable  and  so  solemn 
as  that  which  is  now  convened  in  Heidelberg,  to  manifest  their 
friendly  disposition  towards  that  Institution,  by  some  public  act; 
and  I  have  accordingly  been  requested,  Mr.  President,  to  beg  you 
to  cause  this  letter  to  be  read  at  one  of  the  earliest  meetings  of 
your  Association,  and  to  ask  that  it  may  be  noticed  in  the  report 
of  your  proceedings ;  and  if  these  requests  be  not  disregarded, 
that  it  may  be  made  the  order  of  the  day  for  the  consideration  of 
the  sections. 

*  I  have  also,  Mr.  President,  the  honor  to  enclose  six  copies  of 
our  documents,  for  the  use  of  the  several  sections  of  the  assembly. 

I  am,  with  high  respect,  &c. 
Heidelberg,  Sept  ISth,  1829. 

The  meeting  at  Heidelberg  was  organized  in  four  depart- 
ments ;  appropriated  respectively  to  chemistry  and  natural  phi- 
losophy, mineralogy  and  geology,  botany,  and  medicine.  A 
general  meeting  and  a  separate  meeting  of  each  division  were 
held  every  day.  The  session  continued  seven  days :  and  we  are 
astonished,  on  examinbg  the  repent,  to  perceive  bow  much  sci- 
entific and  practical  information  was  communicated,  in  so  short  a 
space  of  time.    Reports  of  uncommon  medical  operations  were 


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92  Oerman  Association  of  [July, 

made ;  delicate  chemical  preparations  were  exhibited ;  new  dis- 
coveries promulgated ;  new  instruments  brought  into  notice ;  and 
a  great  number  of  scientific  treatises  read.  Letters  were  receiv- 
ed from  learned  men  in  many  different  parts  of  Europe,  and  in 
short,  more  activity  and  zeal  were  displayed,  on  this  occasion, 
than  upon  any  former  one  of  the  kind.  This  meeting,  however, 
was  inferior  in  brilliancy  to  that  which  was  held  last  year  at 
Berlin,  and  at  which,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  Baron 
Alexander  Humboldt  presided.  The  short  introductory  dis- 
course, which  he  delivered  upon  that  occasion,  exhibited  the 
refinement  and  elegance  that  belong  to  this  distinguished  philoso- 
pher, so  well  known  throughout  the  world  for  his  researches 
and  discoveries,  in  almost  every  department  of  natural  science. 
Having  mentioned  the  name  of  this  great  man,  we  cannot  per- 
mit the  occasion  to  pass  without  expressing  our  admiration  of 
his  elevated  character— our  deep  sense  of  the  services  which 
he  has  rendered  to  the  world  by  his  indefatigable  efforts  in 
Anaerica,  Europe,  Africa  and  more  recently  in  Asia,  and  our 
ardent  wishes  that  his  valuable  life  may  be  long  continued  for 
the  instruction  of  both  hemispheres. 

The  meeting  at  Berlin  was  rendered,  by  the  taste  of  Baron 
Humboldt,  as  pleasing  as  it  was  interesting  and  useful.  Its 
first  session  in  the  hall  of  the  royal  musical  academy  was 
attended  by  more  than  five  hundred  persons,  among  whom 
were  some  of  the  highest  officers  of  state.  To  this  succeeded 
the  regular  meetings.  In  the  evening,  a  conversazione  was 
given  by  the  President,  in  the  great  concert-room  of  the  royal 
theatre.  This  saloon,  which  is  one  of  the  most  elegant  in 
Europe,  was  arranged  by  Mr.  Schinkel,  the  King's  architect, 
as  a  temple  of  German  Fame.  Within  a  semicircle  of  rays, 
opposite  to  the  entrance,  the  names  of  the  most  distinguished 
German  naturalists  were  inscribed  in  characters  of  gold  and 
silver.    On  one  side  were  placed  the  following  lines  of  Goethe : 

Es  soil  sich  regen,  schaffen,  handeln, 
Erst  sich  gest^ten,  dann  verwandeln, 
Nur  scheinbar  stehts  momente  still ; 
Das  EwVe  regt  sich  fort  in  Allem, 
Denn  Alles  muss  in  Nichts  zerfallen, 
Wenn  es  im  Seyn  beharren  will.* 

*  Motion,  action,  formation,  creation,  change,  axe  the  laws  of  existence. 
Repose  is  a  mere  appearance,  for  the  Universe  is  inspnred  in  all  its  parts 
by  a  principle  of  constant  activity ;  and  ceasing  to  change  is  in  other 
words  ceafimg  to  be. 


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1830.]  JSTaiuralisis  and  Physicians.  93 

On  the  other  side  was  inscribed  the  foDowing  passage  from 
Schiller : 

£s  entbrennen  im  feurigen  Eampf  die  eifemden  Kraefle, 
Grosses  wirket  ihr  Streit,  Groesseres  wirket  ihr  Bund.* 

The  King  and  several  of  the  princes  attended  this  festival : 
which  was  rendered  still  more  attractive  by  a  full  orchestra  and 
the  first  singers  of  the  royal  theatre.  While  tlie  meeting  con- 
tinued, the  members  were  every  day  conveyed  in  carriages  to 
a  vast  dining  hall,  in  which  were  spread  twenty  tables,  at  each 
of  which  twenty-four  persons  were  accommodated.  Baron 
Humboldt  presided  at  die  first  table.  No  ladies  were  present, 
excepting  the  wives  or  daughters  of  such  members  as  did 
not  reside  in  Berlin. 

The  institution  has  been  conducted  with  so  much  success, 
that  it  was  proposed  at  the  last  meeting  that  the  future  ones 
should  occasionally  be  held  in  other  countries,  and  it  was 
particularly  requested  by  Professor  Oersted  of  Copenhagen, 
that  the  next  might  take  place  in  that  city  ;  but  the  invitation 
was  declined  for  the  present,  principally  because  the  Association 
had  not  yet  met  in  several  of  the  German  cities,  which  contain 
treasures  of  natural  science  well  worthy  of  their  attention. 
Hamburg  has  been  assigned  as  the  place  of  meeting  for  the 
next  year.  We  should  rejoice  if  the  attendance  there  of  some 
of  our  fellow  citizens  might  produce  a  literary  and  scientific 
union  between  two  regions,  separated  only  by  an  ocean,  which 
is  found  to  oppose  no  obstacles  of  importance  to  our  commer- 
cial enterprise.  Boston,  New-York  and  Philadelphia,  are  not 
really  more  remote  from  Paris,  than  Warsaw,  Stockholm, 
Lisbon,  and  many  other  European  cities.  The  representatives 
of  the  United  States  would  doubtless  meet  with  a  hospitable 
reception,  and  a  cordial  welcome  from  the  inhabitants  of  a 
country,  which  was  styled  by  Madame  de  Stael  *  le  pays  des 
pemees  ei  de  la  bonhommie.^ 

*  The  power  of  conflicting  principles  is  increased  by  the  ardor  of 
contention ;  their  strife  produces  much  good,  but  their  union  still  more. 


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94  VUkmainU  Misedlanki*  P^f  9 


Abt.  V. — Melanges  Historiques  et  LitteraireSj  par  M.  PHfe- 
mairif  JUembre  de  rAcaaemie  Fmttfoise.  2  vob.  8vo. 
Paris.  1827, 

Mr.  Vaiemain,  the  author  of  the  woA  before  os,  is  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  and  popular  of  the  living  writers  of 
France.  He  is  the  Professor  of  Eloquence  m  the  University ; 
and  his  lectures  are  regularly  attended  by  thousands  of  intelli- 
gent and  fashionable  auditors.  We  cannot  too  highly  com- 
mend the  liberality,  which  renders  these  lectures  accessible  to 
all.  It  is  most  honorable  to  the  French,  that  their  treasures  of 
literature  and  science  are  not,  like  those  of  some  other  nations, 
secured  by  bolts  and  bars,  which  nothing  but  the  magical  ap- 
plication of  silver  can  remove.  A  field  of  action  is  thrown 
open  by  this  liberaKty  to  eloquence  and  talent,  which  reminds 
us  of  die  glorious  days  of  ancient  Greece.  The  influence  of 
intellecmal  ability  is  visible  and  feh ;  operating  as  it  does,  not 
through  the  comparatively  cold  and  lifeless  medium  of  books, 
but  with  all  the  vigor  and  effect  of  oratory,  conscious  of  its 
power,  and  consecrated  to  the  most  exalted  purposes.  This 
may  not,  it  is  true,  be  the  most  eligible  method  of  imparting 
profound  instruction ;  but  besides  communicating  extensive  in- 
formation to  many,  who  would  not  otherwise  acquire  it,  or 
whose  attention  would  be  devoted  to  nothing  better  than  die 
ephemeral  literature  of  the  hour,  it  produces  an  elevated  tone 
of  public  taste  and  sentiment,  on  which  much  of  the  character 
and  advancement  of  society  depend.  The  time,  we  hope, 
is  not  far  distant,  when  courses  of  instruction,  conducted  upon 
similar  principles,  will  become  universal  in  this  country,  or  at 
least  in  our  larger  towns  and  cities ;  where  there  is  surely  no 
deficiency  in  the  eloquence  and  learning,  which  are  essential 
for  their  success.  It  is  much  to  be  regretted,  that  the  valuable 
lectures  of  professors  in  our  literary  institutions,  are  in  general 
delivered  before  audiences,  composed  of  students  only ;  when, 
by  a  change  of  plan,  they  might  be  rendered  very  usdiil  and 
instructive  to  the  public  at  large.     The  evil  may  in  some  de- 

gee  be  remedied  by  institutions  like  the  Boston  Society  for  the 
iffusion  of  Useful  Knowledge ;  giving,  however,  what  the  cir- 
cumstances of  that  society  will  not  probably  at  present  permit, 
better  opportunity  to  the  lecturers  for  the  more  complete  inves- 
tigation of  their  subjects,  and  rendering  the  privilege  of  admis- 
sion to  the  lectures  more  general  and  free. 


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1830.]  PlUemain^i  Mtcdkmies^.  M 

The  fiiisl  article  in  this  misGelkny  is  an  eleganl  and  animated 
eutogjr  on  JMbnta^ne.  After  this  follows  a  discourse  upon 
the  benefits  and  disadvantages  of  criticism ;  a  sublet  which,  in 
the  en^hadc  bnguage  of  the  day,  comes  home  to  oiir  own 
business  and  bosoms ;  and  which  is  treated  with  eloquence  and 
spirit^  and  with  a  more  abundant  measure  of  candor^  than  is 
Qomnaonly  to  be  fiMuid  in  similar  productions.  Hie  author  is 
obyiously  not  of  the  number  of  those  deluded  and  misjudging 
persons,  who  are  fond  of  representing  critics  as  the  inveterate 
and  natural  enemies  of  promising  talent,  in  the  sanoe  manner  as 
the  ministess  of  the  kw  are  sometimes  held  up  as  a  brotherhood 
of  rogues,  and  the  professors  of  the  healing  art  denounced 
as  habitual  violators  ol  the  sixth  commandment.  Still,  in 
^aktE^  of  ibQ  origin  of  criticism,  he  is  inclined  to  consider  it 
as  a  decided  and  rather  singular  usyrpation ;  although  he  ad- 
mits, for  the  purposes  of  argtnnent  at  least,,  that  it  has  beea 
rendered  legitimate,  if  not  equitable,  by  prescription.  As  to 
the  manner  in  which  this  questionable  power  has  been  exer- 
cised^ we  tlufik  we  can  perceive  a  disposition  on  his  part,  which 
we  should  hardly  have  expected  in  a  writer  so  judicious,  to 
look  upon  the  im&vorable  side.  We  are  not  unfrequently  told 
elsewhere,  of  the  rancor  with  which  contemporary  criticism 
pursued  Cervantes ;  of  the  thousand  attempts  made  in  his  own 
time  to  destroy  the  reputation  of  Tasso;  of  the  envy  "and 
malice  which  hurried  Racine  into  seclusion  at  the  very  noon- 
tide of  his  powers ;  and  of  the  bitterness  which  brought  Keats 
imniaturely  to  tbe  grave.  We  are  not  without  our  doubts  in 
regard  to  the  autbenticity  of  this  last  example.  The  potion, 
though  suflfciently  unpalatable,  is  rarely  if  ever  mortal ;  though 
we  are  far  from  attemptmg  to  justify  or  palliate  the  heartless 
malignity,  which  some  nKMiem  critics  of  no  small  distinction,  ac- 
tuated by  personal  or  party  motives,  have  deemed  not  unworthy 
of  their  profession  and  character.  But  it  should  not  be  for- 
gotten, that  much  of  what  passes  under  the  name  of  criticism, 
is  only  the  jealousy  and  envy,  which  ase  sometimes  tempted  to 
assume  the  lion's  i^io,  the  better  to  accomplish  an  unworthy  or 
degrading  purpose.  We  might  easily  produce  examples,  on  the 
other  hand,  in  which  coals  of  iSre  have  been  literally  heaped  upon 
the  head  of  the  unlucky  critic ;  indeed,  we  are  inclined  to  be- 
lieve, that  upon  a  fair  setdement  of  the  accounts  between  authors 
and  reviewers,  the  former  will  be  found  to  be  by  na  means  in  ar- 


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96  VUlemain^i  Mucettanies*  [July, 

rear.  The  fate  of  Dennis  is  not  yet  forgotten ;  the  two  hundred 
volumes  aimed  by  Fr6ron  at  the  head  of  Voltaire, were  answered 
by  missiles  less  ponderous,  but  somewhat  more  effective ;  and 
the  world  has  hardly  yet  ceased  to  applaud  the  vigor,  with 
which  Lord  Byron  flung  back  the  sarcasms  of  the  Edinburgh 
Review.  The  truth  is,  that  by  selecting  particular  examples, 
the  office  of  the  critic  may  be  made  at  pleasure  to  resemble 
that  of  a  fallen  or  protecting  angel.  The  argument  against  it  is 
drawn  from  its  abuses ;  and  this  is  at  once  the  least  philosophi- 
cal and  the  lea^  conclusive  of  all  arguments. 

It  would  hardly  become  us  to  enumerate  the  qualifications 
which  the  task  of  the  critic  requires.  They  consist,  according 
to  Mr.  Villemain,  in  perfect  impartiality,  in  earnest  wishes  to 
promote  the  success  of  others,  in  a  union  of  correct  principles 
with  exalted  sentiments,  and  in  delicate  and  unperverted  taste. 
But  it  is  no  more  reasonable  to  expect  angels  in  the  form  of 
critics,  than  in  that  of  rulers ;  and  acting  as  we  do,  with  a  full 
consciousness  of  our  infirmities,  that  task  is  neither  light  nor 
easy.  If  we  could  for  a  moment  suppose  ourselves  to  be  en- 
dued with  all  these  attributes,  we  should  still  be  haunted  by 
apprehensions,  that  authors  would  continue  to  take  it  iU,  when 
they  are  told,  that  their  works  are  poor  things,  and  that  they 
are  not  themselves  much  better.  Our  author  believes  that  the 
raillery  which  wounds  self-love  is  what  renders  criticism  so 
intolerable ;  and  that  if  audiors  were  only  made  acquainted  with 
their  faults  in  a  grave  and  argumentative  way,  they  would  re- 
ceive the  information  with  unaffected  pleasure.  But  it  is  not 
easy  for  reviewers,  from  the  public  nature  of  their  occupation, 
to  deal  with  an  erring  brother  according  to  the  injunctions  of 
religion ;  and  if  this  were  practicable,  it  would  not,  b  all  proba- 
bility, remove  the  difficul^.  Rousseau  tried  the  experiment 
with  the  curate  of  Mont-Chauvet,  when  he  assured  him,  in  a 
transport  of  benevolence,  that  nothmg  could  be  more  worthless 
than  his  tragedy ;  and  thus  made  his  reverence  an  enemy  for 
life.  Our  faculties,  we  flatter  ourselves,  will  be  borne  too  meekly 
to  render  us  justly  liable  to  railing  accusations,  by  fi-equent  acts 
of  injustice ;  but  if  our  hope  shall  be  ill  founded,  we  must 
console  ourselves  with  the  reflection,  so  balmy  always  to  courts 
of  limited  jurisdiction,  that  the  great  appellate  tribunal  of  the 

?ublic  will  remedy  the  evil,  by  overthrowing  our  decisions. 
\e  discourse  is  concluded  with  the  following  remarks. 


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1830.]  '   VUlemain'M  MseeOanies.  97 

'  As  for  us,  who  are  young  writers,  and  whose  early  essays  are 
too  unimportant  to  excite  attention,  let  us  not  be  too  forward  to 
delude  cfurselves  with  the  idea,  that  we  shall  deserve  to  become 
objects  of  envy.  In  violation  of  the  ordinary  rule,  it  is  possible, 
that  we  may  be  indifferent  writers,  and  yet  severely  criticised : 
but.  before  we  accuse  others  of  injustice,  let  us  learn  to  distrust 
our  own  vanity.  The  love  of  letters  is  like  every  other  passion. 
It  blinds,  it  misleads,  it  deludes  us  both  with  regard  to  ourselves 
and  others:  it  mistakes  the  ardor  of  its  aspirations  for  the  measure 
of  its  strength :  it  is  impatient  of  every  obstacle,  while  it  often 
requires  to  be  arrested  in  its  progress.  Talent  is  rare,  vanity 
credulous,  and  glory  seductive.' 

The  discourse  upon  criticism  is  followed  by  a  eulogy  upon 
Montesquieu ;  for  which,  with  the  two  discourses  abeady  men- 
tioned, prizes  of  eloquence  were  awarded  to  the  author  by  the 
University  of  France.  It  is  impossible,  in  examining  a  work 
like  the  one  before  us,  embracing  a  great  variety  of  subjects, 
to  give  a  particular  account  of  each.  We  can  offer  only  a  short 
extract  from  a  discourse  delivered  by  Mr.  Villemain  before  the 
Academy,  upon  his  succeeding  to  the  place  left  vacant  by  the 
death  of  Mr.  de  Fontanes ;  in  which  his  eloquence  appears  to 
be  animated  by  a  deep  sense  of  personal  obligation,  and  the 
recollections  of  early  and  disinterested  friendship. 

'  I  call  to  mind  involuntarily  that  Roman  usage,  which,  at  the 
death  of  some  distinguished  citizen,  some  generous  patron  of 
youth,  allowed  one  of  his  clients,  one  of  his  pupils,  to  express 
from  the  tribune  the  public  sprrow  for  the  loss :  with  no  other 
title  to  the  honor  than  that  which  gratitude  confers,  and  no  other 
recommendation  than  the  friendship  of  the  departed.  I  cannot 
recollect  the  poor  essays,  which  have  acquired  for  me  the  honor 
of  a  place  among  you :  I  cannot  look  back  upon  the  early  stages 
of  my  short  and  humble  career,  without  being  at  the  same  time 
reminded  of  the  kind  and  liberal  friendship  of  Mr.  de  Fontanes. 
It  was  that  friendship  which  received  me  at  my  departure  from 
the  public  schools,  and  devoted  me  at  an  early  age  to  the  occu- 
pations of  a  teacher :  it  was  that  which  encouraged  my  earliest 
essays,  and  watched  over  them  amidst  the  trials  of  that  literary 
competition,  which  have  sometimes  attracted  towards  me  your 
attention:  it  protected  those  essays;  for  a  long  time  it  protected 
me ;  it  honored  me  always.' 

We  next  turn  to  an  essay  upon  the  funeral  oration,  in  which 
the  French  are  generally  admitted  to  have  excelled  all  other 
modem  nations.     The  object  of  this  kind  of  eloquence  is  noble 

VOL.  XXXI. ^NO.  68.  13 


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98  VUlemain^s  Miscellanies.  [July, 

and  elevated ;  for  it  is  no  other  than  that  of  bestowmg  just 
honors  upon  exalted  virtue,  and  of  holding  it  up  as  an  example 
for  the  world  to  admire  and  imitate.  Mr.  Villemain  discovers 
one  of  its  earliest  specimens  in  the  lamentation  of  David  for 
those  who  fell  upon  the  mountain  of  Gilboa.  He  enters  into 
an  examination  of  the  most  remarkable  funeral  oraticHis  of  an- 
tiquity; from  that  which  Thucydides  has  ascribed  to  Pericles, 
to  the  discourse  of  Hyperides  in  memory  of  the  Athenians  who 
perished  in  the  attempt  to  restore  the  liberties  of  Greece,  a  few 
years  after  the  '  dishonest  victory  of  Chaeronea.'  The  inspira- 
tion of  the  Greek  orators  was  derived  from  patriotism  and 
freedom ;  but  with  all  their  sublimity  and  power,  they  were 
destitute  of  that  superior  dignity,  which  springs  from  the  rewards 
and  promises  of  the  Christian  faith.  In  the  republic  of  Rome, 
the  custom  of  thus  honoring  those  who  fell  in  battle,  was  alto- 
gether unknown.  The  funeral  oration  was  stately  and  formal; 
for  the  patrician  orators  had  scarcely  any  other  task  to  perform, 
than  that  of  the  English  king-at-arms  upon  the  occasion  of  a 
royal  funeral,  when  he  proclaims  the  rank  and  titles  of  the 
dead.  At  a  later  period,  the  power  of  impassioned  eloquence 
was  occasionally  exhibited  in  public  eulogies  on  distinguished 
favorites  of  the  people :  a  memorable  example  of  which  is 
presented  in  the  funeral  oration  pronounced  by  Antony  over 
the  body  of  Caesar.  But  it  is  easy  to  conceive,  what  the 
character  of  these  discourses  must  have  become,  when  the  eu- 
logy on  each  departed  emperor  was  delivered  by  his  successor, 
and  the  virtues  of  Claudius  were  celebrated  by  Nero.  Mr. 
Villemain  notices  with  high  commendation  the  funeral  discourses 
of  some  of  the  early  Christian  fathers ;  the  merit  of  which 
appears  the  more  remarkable,  when  we  remember,  that  they 
were  written  at  the  period  of  the  decline  of  letters,  and  the 
corruption  of  taste.  It  is  sufficient  evidence  of  their  superior 
excellence,  that  they  were  imitated  by  Bossuet — ^the  absolute 
and  unrivalled  monarch  in  this  high  department  of  eloquence-^ — 
who  is  placed  by  the  just  admiration  of  our  author,  lar  above 
all  his  illustrious  contemporaries.  Since  the  Augustan  age  of 
French  literature,  this,  its  peculiar  glory,  has  departed ;  and 
the  academic  eulogy  affords  but  a  very  inadequate  compensa- 
tion for  the  loss. 

No  allusion  is  made  in  this  essay  to  the  funeral  orations 
of  any  modem  nation,  but  France;  and  we  are  rather  sur- 
prised upon  reflection,  to  find  how  few  attempts  have  been 


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1830.]  VUlemain's  Mscettanies.  99 

made  in  England  to  attain  superior  excellence  in  this  depart- 
ment. One  of  the  finest  examples,  which  occur  at  present 
to  our  recollection,  is  the  beautiful  eulogy  delivered  by  Fox  in 
the  House  of  Commons  upon  his  friend,  the  Duke  of  Bed- 
ford ;  which  presents  us  also  with  a  strikmg  illustration  of  the 
peculiar  character  of  English  eloquence  in  general,  as  com- 
pared with  that  of  France.  We  find  in  it  no  flights  of  energy 
or  passion,  no  enthusiastic  appeal  to  our  sympathies.  Its  tone 
throughout  is  subdued  and  calm ;  and  the  feelings  of  private 
friendship  and  personal  gratitude  are  pleaded  as  an  apology  for 
an  exhibition  of  sorrow,  which,  in  the  view  of  a  Frenchman, 
would  constitute  the  principal  charm,  and  should  be  the  most 
prominent  characteristic  of  the  eulogy.  In  fact,  the  difference 
to  which  we  have  alluded,  appears  to  be  the  result  of  a  very 
marked  diversity  of  temperament  and  taste.  An  Englishman 
is  rather  apt  to  regard  any  public  display  of  excited  feeling  as 
unbecoming  and  unmanly ;  and  he  will  generally  labor  to  conceal 
it  where  it  exists,  instead  of  attempting  to  awaken  the  sympathy 
of  others  by  the  exhibition  of  his  own  grief.  One  of  the  most 
obvious  traits  in  his  character  is  the  opposite  to  that,  which 
Sallust  has  attributed  to  Catiline ;  his  wisdom  is  superior  to  his 
eloquence.  A  Frenchman,  on  the  other  hand,  can  perceive  no 
reason  why  any  emotions  should  be  hidden  firom  the  public 
view ;  if  a  man  may  reasonably  feel,  he  may  with  the  same 
propriety  express  them;  and  in  conformity  with  the  rule  of 
Horace,  if  he  wishes  to  make  others  weep,  he  begins  the 
process  by  shedding  tears  himself.  In  this  respect,  our  coun- 
tTjnmen,  perhaps,  bear  less  resemblance  to  the  French,  than  to 
their  English  brethren.  There  is  among  us  as  much  regret  and 
veneration  for  departed  worth,  as  much  afiectionate  remem- 
brance of  lost  excellence  and  virtue,  as  in  any  other  country ; 
and  there  is  no  less  of  what  Adam  Smith  calk  sjrmpathy  with 
the  dead.  It  is  only  differently  exhibited :  with  little  of  the 
public  show  and  parade  of  sorrow. 

The  tastes  of  nations,  like  those  of  individuals,  do  not  admit 
of  controversy.  If  those  of  England  and  our  own  country  have 
been  fairly  represented,  it  is  plain,  that  the  usual  style  of  the 
French  fimeral  oration  would  not  be  altogether  pleasing  to 
English  or  American  audiences.  Some  desperate  attempts 
have  at  times  been  made  to  copy  the  most  remarkable  passages 
of  Bossuet ;  but  all  direct  imitation  has  pi'oved  wholly  unsuc- 
cessful, for  the  reasons  we  have  already  mentioned.     Our 


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100  ViUemairCs  Miscellanies,  [July, 

associations  with  our  last  change  are  grave,  chastened,  and 
severe.     We  have  little  disposition  to  throw  the  illusions  of 
poetical  imagination  over  its  awful  realities ;  we  have  few  of 
those  offerings  of  flowers  and  other  tributes,  which  are  conse- 
crated by  affection  elsewhere  to  the  memory  of  the  dead ;  so 
that  we  are  apt  to  fall  into  exaggeration,  when  we  overstep  the 
limits  prescribed  to  us,  by  our  ordinary  habits  of  thought  and 
feeling  upon  this  subject.     Cotton  Mather,  a  man  of  talent  as 
well  as  of  great  and  various  attainments,  has  given  us  several 
specimens  of  the  funeral  eulogy,  which  are  probably  among  the 
most  extraordinary  monuments  of  perverted  taste  that  were 
ever  erected  by  the  ingenuity  of  man.     His  laudatory  notice  of 
the  pious  Mr.  Partridge,  is  composed  of  an  imbroken  succession 
of  puns;  and  is  concluded  with  this  appropriate  epitaph,  '  He 
has  flown !'   We  learn  from  the  elaborate  Pentode  of  President 
Alden,  who  has  decyphered  tomb-stones  and  investigated  our 
sepulchral  literature  with  all  the  zeal  and  industry  of  Cham- 
poUion  and  Old  Mortality,  how  common  this  exaggeration  was, 
at  an  early  period.     Sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  a  worthy 
clergyman  who  delivered  a  public  eulogy  upon  his  wife,  plain 
prose  was  altogether  inadequate  to  the  expression  of  sorrow, 
and  grief  broke  out  into  a  paroxysm  of  poetry.     And  the  same 
extravagance  appears  occasionally  in  obituary  notices  at  the 
present  time.     All  this  is  neither  a  result,  nor  an  evidence  of 
our  ordinary  taste ;  and  its  absurdity  arises  from  the  attempt 
to  express  what  we  do  not  feel,  or,  at  least,  what  our  habitual 
mode  of  feeling  forbids  us  to  express  in  such  a  manner.     To 
be  adapted  to  our  prevailing  taste,  all  such  notices  should  be 
modest  and  unobtrusive.     When,  however,  some  great  calami- 
ty, the  loss  of  some  emment  public  servant,  or  of  a  private 
person  of  distinguished  worth,  excites  the  public  feeling  in 
a  very  unusual  degree,  the  funeral  oration  will  be  found  to 
assume  a  corresponding  character  of  dignity  and  power.     It  is 
praise  sufficient,  and  at  the  same  time  well-merited,  to  say, 
that  many  of  the  discourses  delivered  upon  the  occasion  of 
the  death  of  Washington,  were  in  all  respects  worthy  of  their 
venerated  subject ;  and  who  has  forgotten  the  affecting  eulogy 
in  which  Fisher  Ames  poured  out  his  heart  in  sorrow  for  die 
loss  of  an  illustrious  and  kindred  spirit  ?  When  two  of  our  most 
eminent  civil  fathers  were,  a  few  years  since,  together  called 
from  their  earthly  labors,  the  deep  and  universal  feeling  of  regret 
and  admiration  was  expressed  in  many  beautiful  and  impressive 


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1830.]  VtUemain^s  Miscellanies.  101 

eulogies,  which  would  not  have  dishonored  the  literature  or 
the  eloquence  of  any  age  or  country.  The  funeral  orations  of 
France,  as  we  have  already  remarked,  might  not  be  perfectly 
adapted  to  our  ordinary  taste ;  but  the  effect  of  some  of  the 
discourses  to  which  we  have  alluded,  was  produced  by  the  judi- 
cious union  of  their  impassioned  eloquence,  with  the  gravity  and 
calmness  of  our  own ;  and  a  very  beautiful  example  of  this  union 
is  afibrded  by  a  discourse  of  the  late  Mr.  Buckminster  upon 
the  death  of  Mk,  Bowdoin,  a  part  of  which  only  has  yet  been 
published,  and  which  was  probably  considered  as  too  occasional 
in  its  character,  to  be  inserted  in  the  collection  of  his  works. 

We  pass  over  the  introductory  discourse  of  Mr.  Villemain's 
course  of  lectures  upon  French  eloquence,  in  order  to  come  to 
an  essay,  which  contams  a  short  biographical  notice  of  Milton, 
together,  with  a  critical  examination  of  his  works.  The  criti- 
cism is  not,  in  general,  uncandid  nor  unjust ;  but  there  are  some 
points,  in  which  we  are  far  from  according  in  opinion  with  our 
author.  In  one  particular,  we  feel  compelled  to  make,  what 
was  denominated  by  one  of  his  countrymen,  a  reply  to  his 
silence.  We  do  not  find,  that  he  has  honored  Milton's  sonnets 
with  even  the  cold  tribute  of  a  passmg  glance ;  and  yet,  not- 
withstanding the  contemptuous  intimations  of  Johnson,  some 
of  them  are  certainly  of  the  very  first  order  of  excellence  in  a 
species  of  composition,  better  suited,  perhaps,  to  the  taste  of 
Italy,  from  which  it  was  borrowed,  than  to  ours,  but  in  which 
Shakspeare  and  Sydney  did  not  disdain  to  labor,  and  of  which 
Drummond  has  left  us  some  examples  of  uncommon  elegance 
and  beauty.  He  is  also  wholly  at  a  loss  to  discover  the  con- 
trast between  the  Allegro  and  the  Penseroso,  which  the  names 
seem  naturally  to  imply.  The  former  appears  to  him,  as  Master 
Hudson's  pleasure-party  appeared  to  Rip  Van  Winkle  on 
the  Catskifl  mountains,  a  rather  melancholy  affair;  but  the 
difficulty  vanishes,  when  it  is  considered  simply  as  expressive 
of  a  state  of  mind  denominated  cheerfulness ;  with  which  John- 
son, who  had  previously  expressed  a  similar  apprehension,  was 
not  particularly  conversant,  and  which  certainly  bears  litde 
resemblance  to  what  a  Frenchman  would  call  gaiety.  The 
Comus  also,  in  the  opinion  of  our  author,  displays  less  gaiety 
than  sadness ;  and  considered  as  an  imitation,  it  may  perhaps 
be  liable  to  censure :  but  it  is  a  litrie  singular,  that  one  who  is 
capable  of  appreciating  Milton's  genius,  should  be  insensible 
to  that  deep  harmony,  which  enforces  attention  like  the  tongues 


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102  Vmemain*s  Miscellanies.  [July, 

of  dying  men,  to  the  grace  and  richness  of  the  language,  and 
the  eleyated  dignity  of  the  sentiments  of  that  unrivalled  pro- 
duction; where  genius  breaks  from  the  cloud,  in  which  the 
imitation  of  inferior  models  seems  at  first  to  shroud  it,  and 
stands  forth  like  ^neas,  in  all  the  pride  of  manly  and  almost 
celestial  beauty.  We  have  no  room  to  follow  Mr.  Villemain 
at  length  in  his  remarks  upon  the  Paradise  Lost ;  but  we  are 
glad  to  see  that  he  is  willing  to  do  justice  to  the  language  of 
that  immortal  song :  which,  if  occasionally  disfigured  by  foreign 
idioms,  is  still  the  inimitable,  and  we  had  almost  said,  the  native 
dialect  of  surpassing  genius ;  and  that  he  treats  with  deserved 
contempt  the  idea,  that  the  merit  of  the  poet  is  diminished  by 
his  having  borrowed  the  first  suggestion  of  his  great  work,  as 
Voltaire  will  have  it,  from  some  Italian  drama  upon  the  subject 
of  Adam's  fall.  In  common  with  ma^y  other  high  authorities, 
however,  he  seems  to  consider  only  a  fe\y  of  the  first  books  of 
the  Paradise  Lost,  as  remarkable  for  their  sublimity.  It  may 
be  so ;  but  wh^o  would  choose  to  part  with  the  delighti&il  images 
of  the  innpcence  and  purity  of  paradise,  the  magnificent  de- 
scriptipn  of  ^e  rising  world,  or  the  vision  of  the  future  revealed 
by  die  archangel  to  the  father  of  our  race  ?  To  us,  the  poet 
appears  like  the  spirit  in  his  progress  through  the  realms  of 
chaos;  who,  though  he  may  occasionally  approach  some  inferior 
orbs,  is  still  pursuing  his  majestic  flight  towards  the  garden 
of  God. 

It  is  not  without  regret,  that  we  see  our  author  giving  the 
sanction  of  his  authority  in  confirmation  of  the  justice  of  that 
censure,  which  has  often  been  bestowed  upon  the  controversial 
works  of  Milton.  Mr.  Villemain  is  understood  to  be  the  fiiend 
and  advocate  of  liberal  principles ;  and  he  has  experienced 
something  of  the  severity  by  which  arbitrary  power  would  subdue 
the  firm  hearts  and  eloquent  tongues  that  refuse  to  do  homage 
to  its  idol :  and  might  be  expected  to  pardon  somethmg  to  the 
great  defender  of  liberty,  fallen  on  evil  days  and  evil  tongues. 
It  should  not  be  forgotten,  that  Milton  was  ready  to  devote  all 
that  he  possessed  or  hoped  for,  to  this  high  and  holy  cause ; 
that  he  went  forth  to  batde  against  principalities  and  powers, 
armed  with  that  irresistible  enthusiasm  which  shrinks  from  no 
peril,  despises  every  obstacle,  and  cheerfully  encounters  all 
sacrifices;  that,  like  the  apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  he  finished  his 
course,  he  kept  the  faith,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  sorrow  and 
darkness  and  privation  of  his  later  years.     For  ourselves,  we 


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1830.]  yUlmain's  Mscdknies.  103 

look  with  reverence  upon  such  an  InteDect,  engaged  ia  such  a 
cause,  and  supported  only  by  a  prophetic  anticipation  6f  the 
glories  which  were  about  to  be  revealed.  It  is  painful  to  see 
liberal  and  accomplished  minds  visiting  with  relentless  severity 
of  ciensure  those  occasional  violations  of  propriiety  and  correct 
taste,  which  are  found  m  the  controversial  writmgs  of  Milton ;  as 
if  the  stem  old  warrior,  in  the  hurry  and  tumult  of  the  conflict, 
had  been  bound  to  wield  his  batde-axe  with  all  the  graces  of  a 
courtier.  Is  the  tone  of  religious  or  political  controviersy  at  this 
day  so  elevated,  that  we  are  entitled  thus  to  condemn  its  spirit 
in  former  times  ?  Has  much  been  gained  to  the  cause  of  morals 
or  religion,  when  refined  calumny  and  well-mannered  rancor 
are  substituted  for  the  old-fashioned  blunt,  and  undisguised 
expression  of  enmitv  or  hatred,  or  when  die  war-club  of  Beau- 
vais  is  laid  aside  for  the  treacherous  kiss  of  Joab?  However 
this  may  be,  it  is  plainly  impossible  to  form  a  fair  judgment  in 
regard  to  the  spirit  of  these  writings,  without  taking  into  con- 
sideration at  the  same  time  the  spirit  of  the  age  in  which  they 
were  written.  It  was  in  the  century  immediately  preceding, 
that  the  rage  ofcontroversy  appeared  to  rdach  the  highest  pos- 
sible degree  of  intensity  and  bitterness ;  when  the  mildest  terms 
of  reproach  which  Luther  could  find  it  in  his  heart  to  apply  to 
the  royal  vindicator  of  the  seven  sacraments,  were  those  of  liar 
and  blasphemer.  Nor  was  it  greatly  mitigated,  at  the  period 
of  the  civil  wars  of  England.  Cavaliers,  round-heads,  fifth- 
monarchy  men,  agitators,  and  a  host  of  others,  were  mingled 
together  in'  one  vast  limbo-paradise  of  controversy ;  and  all  the 
resources  of  ridicule  and  libel  that  memory  or  learning  could 
supply,  or  mgenuity-  devise,  were  lavished  with  boundless  prodi- 
gality by  each  upon  all  the  rest.  Such,  in  truth,  was  the 
fashion  of  the  day.  An  instance  occurs  to  us,  which  shows 
that  the  same  spirit  was  then  exhibited  in  a  quarter,  iri  which 
we  should  not  commonly,  perhaps,  expect  to  witness  it.  The 
General  Court  of  Massachusetts,  in  reply  to  certain  unlucky 
petitioners,  published  a  formal  manifesto ;  iti  which  short,  but 
very  distinct  and  far  from  flattering  sketches  were  given  of  the 
characters  of  the  promment  applicants :  and  which  was  con- 
cluded with  the  remark,  that  a  head  so  unsavory  was  not  to  be 
seasoned  with  a  world  of  salt.  In  short,  we  believe  that  the 
faults  of  Milton,  like  those  of  Shakspeare,  were  the  faults  of 
his  age ;  while  his  inimitable  beauties  were  peculiarly  his  own. 
In  the  story  of  Lascaris,  our  author  has  attempted  to  combine 


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104  VUlemain^i  MUceUanies.  [July, 

the  deep  interest  of  fiction  with  real  characters  and  incidents; 
and  it  is  principally  remarkable  for  its  rich  poetical  coloring,  and 
the  flowing  beauty  of  the  style.  It  refers  to  that  memorable 
period,  when  Constantinople — ^the  asylum  of  all  that  was  valua- 
ble in  philosophy  and  science,  or  beautiful  in  art — became  the 
Erey  of  those  wild  barbarians,  whose  iron  despotism  is  at  lengdi 
astening  to  its  merited  doom.  Some  young  and  noble  Italians, 
among  whom  was  a  son  of  Cosmo  de  Medici,  are  supposed  to 
be  travelling  in  Sicily ;  which  they  find,  not  as  it  is  at  present, 
almost  a  barren  waste,  but  still  opulent  and  flourishing,  though 
far  inferior  to  their  own  delightful  land.  One  day,  while  the 
travellers  are  watching  the  reflection  of  the  fires  of  -Etna 
fi:om  the  bosom  of  the  tranquil  sea,  a  boat  is  seen  to  approach 
the  shore.  They  knew  that  Constantinople  was  invested  by 
Mahomet  11.  with  a  formidable  army;  but  the  tidings  of  its  fate 
had  not  yet  reached  them,  and,  indeed,  they  felt  little  interest  in 
the  fortunes  of  those  who  refused  to  acknowledge  the  authority 
of  the  Latb  church.  A  stranger,  of  dignified  mien  and  majestic 
stature,  stepping  forth  fi'om  the  boat,  announces  the  destruction 
of  that  noble  city,  and  informs  them  that  a  wretched  remnant 
of  the  Greeks  were  wandering  with  him  to  find  an  asylum  in 
that  Christian  Europe,  which  had  refused  to  avert  their  ruin. 
The  stranger  was  Lascaris ;  who  relates  to  the  travellers  the 
story  of  his  country's  desolation ;  and  tells  them,  that,  as  the 
Trojans  carried  with  them  in  their  flight  the  sacred  fire  of  Vesta, 
so  he  and  his  companions  were  bearing  to  Italy  the  noble  relics 
of  the  arts  and  genius  of  their  unhappy  country.  They  are 
hospitably  received  by  the  Sicilians,  who  forget  their  heresy 
in  compassion  for  their  misfortunes.  Italy  had  already  begun 
to  admire  and  imitate  the  arts  of  Greece ;  and  the  travellers 
are  anxious  to  converse  with  Lascaris  upon  the  subject. 

*Oar  great  poet,  Petrarch/  said  Medici,  'having  received 
firom  the  E^t  a  copy  of  Homer,  lamented  that  so  rich  a  treasure 
should  remain  useless  in  his  hands.  His  friend  Boccaccio  in- 
structed him  in  the  language  of  Greece,  and  gladly  became  for 
him  the  interpreter  of  that  immortal  song.'  '  Oh,  that  its  sublime 
strains  might  resound  throughout  the  world  !'  exclaimed  Lasca- 
ris :  '  it  is  the  imagination  and  philosophy  of  Greece,  her  poets 
and  orators,  that  shall  enchant  and  reanimate  Italy  at  some  future 
day,  and  shall  pass  thence  into  those  other  parts  of  Europe,  which 
you  now  regard  as  obscure  and  barbarous.  Beneath  the  skies  of 
Greece  there  dwelt  a  race,  blest  with  the  most  delightful  climate. 


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1830.]  VUUmainU  Miscellanies.  105 

and  the  most  exalted  freedom.  Patriotism  was  the  parent  of 
their  inspiration  ;  and  glory  elevated  the  soul  to  those  noble 
deeds,  which  are  the  secret  type  of  all  the  beautiful  arts.  Homer 
invented  the  beautiful  in  poetry  ;  Plato  introduced  it  into  ethics; 
and  reason  became  sublimer  than  enthusiasm.  Under  auspices 
like  these,  arose  a  long  succession  of  orators  and  poets,  whose 
writings  we,  miserable  fugitives  as  we  are,  bear  with  us  into 
Italy.  Never  did  the  vanquished  take  with  them  in  their  flight 
a  richer  treasure ;  never  will  hospitality  receive  a  return  more 
noble.  Among  us,  these  models  of  the  grand  and  beautiful  might 
be  faithfully  preserved,  but  they  would  no  longer  find  imitators ; 
they  might  enrich  our  archives,  but  they  could  never  more  impart 
inspiration.  Our  minds  would  rest  inactive  in  a  narrow  sphere, 
as  our  empire  was  limited  at  last  to  the  walls  of  Byzantium. 
But  when  these  models  shall  have  found  a  home  in  Italy,  and  the 
barbarous  nations  of  the  West,  a  new  and  glorious  age  shall  dawn 
upon  Europe.  You,  Italians,  with  your  liberal  ideas,  your  pacific 
sovereignties,  and  your  republican  cities,  will  be  the  first  to 
witness  the  revival  of  the  spirit  of  ancient  Greece ;  and  the  arts, 
in  their  progress  from  land  to  land,  will  at  length  resemble  those 
fiery  signals  of  which  iEschylus  has  told  us,  blazing  in  quick  suc- 
cession fi-om  the  summit  of  Ida  to  the  mountain-tops  of  Mycenae, 
to  announce  the  victories  of  Agamemnon." 

The  conversation  is  interrupted  by  intelligence,  that  another 
company  of  Greeks  have  landed  near  Messina,  and  are  anxious 
to  rejoin  their  countrymen.  The  most  distinguished  of  this 
new  party  is  Gemistus  Pletho  :  who  has  abandoned  a  brilliant 
and  successful  political  career,  to  dwell  in  obscurity  at  Athens, 
amidst  the  ruins  of  ancient  Greece.  He  was  the  friend  of 
Cardinal  Bessarion,  who,  anticipating  his  country's  fate,  had 
for  many  years- adhered  to  the  Latin  Church ;  but  upon  whom, 
notwithstandmg  his  apostacy,  much  of  the  hope  of  his  country- 
men still  rested.  The  haughty  air  of  Gemistus,  and  his 
majestic  stature,  impress  the  Italian  travellers  with  respect  and 
awe.  Unlike  Lascaris,  in  whom  all  hope  appears  to  be  ex- 
tinguished, he  looks  fonyard  with  unwavering  confidence  to  the 
restoration  of  Greece.  He  declines  the  urgent  invitation  of 
Medici  to  accompany  Lascaris  to  Italy,  and  resolves  to  await 
the  result  of  an  application  which  he  had  abeady  made  to 
Cardinal  Bessarion.  This  result  is  soon  made  known  by 
letters  from  the  Cardinal,  who  urges  Gemistus  and  his  com- 
panions to  come  to  him  at  Rome,  informing  them  at  the 
same  time,  that  the  Pope  had  prepared  an  armament  for  the 

VOL.  XXXI.— NO.  68.  14 


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106  VtUemain's  MiKeUaniei.  [Julf, 

relief  of  the  Greeks  ;  and  to  shew  the  anxiety  of  Nicholas  V. 
for  the  welfare  of  those  Christians  in  the  East  who  still  adhered 
to  the  Roman  Church,  the  letters  are  accompanied  with  a  bull, 
in  favor  of  the  King  of  Cyprus.  This  paper  was  among  the 
earliest  examples  of  the  art  of  printing,  then  recently  discover- 
ed ;  and  the  admiration  of  Lascaris,  who  is  now  for  the  first 
time  ma(Je  acquainted  with  the  discovery,  is  thus  expressed  : 

'  Happy  effort  of  human  invention,  source  of  new  truths,  im- 
mortal safeguard  of  truths  already  known  !  All  the  treasures  of 
intellect  which  we  have  rescued  fi-om  the  flames  are  hencefor- 
ward in  security,  even  from  the  ravages  of  time.  They  shall  be 
multiplied  without  number,  they  shall  penetrate  into  every  quarter 
of  the  globe ;  and  they  shall  carry  into  all  the  name  and  the 
genius  of  my  country.  Here,  in  the  midst  of  my  accumulated  sut 
ferings,!  hail  the  dawning  of  a  new  epoch  in  the  history  of  man.' 

Letters  are  received  at  the  same  time  from  Cosmo  de  Medici ; 
who  declares,  that  no  confidence  can  be  placed  in  the  exertions 
of  Christian  Princes  for  the  relief  of  Greece,  and  directs  his  son 
to  invite  all  the  wanderers  of  that  unhappy  nation  to  repair  to 
Florence.  The  anxiety  of  Lascaris  to  depart  is  increased  by 
the  hostility  which  the  Sicilians  begin  to  show  to  the  ceremo- 
nies of  the  Greek  Church.  At  this  period  the  bishop  of 
Ephesus  arrives;  whose  zeal  for  his  faith  is  in  no  degree 
diminished  by  the  severest  trials,  and  who  determines  publicly 
to  perform  its  sacred  rites.  The  description  of  this  ceremony, 
which  takes  place  by  torch-light,  beneath  the  *  chestnut  of  a 
hundred  knights,'  is  highly  animated  and  beautiful. 

*  Arrayed  in  the  long  white  robe  of  the  Greek  pontiffs,  his 
head  encircled  with  a  crown,  the  bishop  commenced  the  sacred 
rites  with  the  same  religious  dignity  and  care,  with  which  he 
could  have  celebrated  them  in  Ephesus  or  Byzantium.  The 
Greeks  standing  around  him,  with  their  heads  covered,  sung 
with  the  most  delightful  accents  of  the  human  voice,  the  hymn 
of  the  oriental  church  :  *  Holy,  Mighty,  Immortal  God,  have 
mercy  upon  us !' 

*  At  the  moment  when,  according  to  the  ritual  of  his  church,  the 
bishop  addresses  himself  to  the  assembled  people,  he  exclaimed : 
*  Almighty  God !  Christian  Greece  is  not  yet  destroyed,  gince  in  this 
desert  place,  beneath  this  wild  shelter,  we  adore  Thee  still.  Ma- 
homet has  indeed  profaned  Thy  temple,  he  has  broken  the  images 
of  Thy  saints :  but  our  pure  and  spiritual  worship  depends  not  upon 
these  perishable  symbols.  Condescend,  O  Most  High,  to  sustain 
the  faith  of  my  brethren  amidst  the  trials  of  captivity,  and  the 


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1830.]  ViUemaMs  Miscellanies.  107 

temptations  of  misfortune  !  Preserve  our  holy  religion  from  the 
cruelty  and  the  protection  of  Mahomet ;  forgive  those  prelates 
who  bow  to  the  authority  of  an  impious  master,  and  deprive  them 
not,  unworthy  as  they  are,  of  power  to  consecrate  the  people 
by  Thy  divine  word  V 

The  tree  under  which  these  rites  are  performed,  had  been 
consecrated  to  St.  Agatha  ;  and  a  furious  tumult  arises  among 
the  Sicilians,  upon  witnessing  what  they  deem  its  profanation. 
The  Greeks  are  protected  from  the  effects  of  their  rage  by  the 
intervention  of  Medici  and  bis  friends,  and  the  Spanish  gover- 
nor of  Catanea ;  and  axe  lodged  in  the  fortress  of  that  city 
during  the  remainder  of  the  night.  The  next  morning  they 
proceed  under  an  escort  of  Spanish  soldiery,  still  accompanied 
by  the  Italian  travellers,  to  the  court  of  Alphonso  of  Arragon, 
King  of  the  Two  Sicilies.  An  opportunity  is  a&rded  by  the 
narrative  of  their  journey,  for  a  vivid  description  of  the  country 
through  which  they  pass.  Amidst  the  ruins  of  Selinonte,  they 
perceive  a  venerable  figure  kneeling  before  the  image  of  our 
Savior,  near  which  a  taper  is  burning,  according  to  the  rites  of 
the  Greek  church.  This  person  proves  to  be  Nicephorus,  bishop 
of  Heraclea,  the  most  distinguished  Greek  prelate  who  adhered 
to  the  Church  of  Rome ;  and  between  whom,  and  his  brother 
in  misfortune,  the  bishop  of  Ephesus,  a  reccmciliation  is  easily 
^ected.  The  company  at  length  arrive  at  Palermo,  where 
they  are  hospitably  received  by  King  Alphonso.  This  monarch, 
who  is  represented  as  combining  a  taste  for  letters  with  military 
talent,  is  anxious  to  retain  them  in  his  dominions ;  but  in  com- 
pliance with  their  earnest  wishes,  reluctantly  permits  them  to 
depart  for  Italy.  Then  bursts  forth  the  full  light  of  that  me- 
morable epoch,  the  dawn  of  which,  a  very  few  years  earlier, 
began  to  'purple  the  east.'  Then  was  accomplished  that 
great  revolution,  to  which  most  of  the  social  improvements  of 
succeeding  years  point  backward,  as  their  acknowledged  source. 
But  the  affections  of  the  Greeks  still  clung  to  their  own  op- 
pressed and  suffering  land  ;  and  the  residue  of  the  story,  the 
whole  of  which  is  written  with  unusual  grace  and  beauty,  is 
occupied  with  the  relation  of  their  effi>rts  to  excite  the  sovereigns 
of  Christendom  m  its  behalf,  of  the  repeated  disappointment  of 
aU  their  hopes,  and  finally,  of  the  later  years  and  death  of 
eome  of  the  most  eminent  of  their  number. 

*  The  old  man  (Lascaris)  did  not  long  survive.  His  death  was 
deeply  lamented  in  Sicily,  to  which  he  had  imparted  the  idea  of 


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108  VUUmainU  MiBceUanies.  [July, 

superior  ciyilisation  and  of  a  better  life.  But  his  disciples  were 
spread  abroad  throughout  Europe,  carrying  with  them  the  memory 
of  his  dying  words,  and  those  delightful  traditions  of  his  own 
land,  which  he  had  so  long  and  fondly  cherished.  A  monument 
of  white  marble  was  for  a  long  time  preserved  in  Messina,  which 
had  been  erected  in  memory  of  Lascaris  by  the  first  inhabitants 
of  that  city ;  but  the  neglect  of  succeeding  generations  has  suf- 
fered every  trace  of  the  memorial  to  perish.  Indifference  is  a 
destroyer  ifiore  fatal  than  time ;  and  no  vestige  remains  of  him 
to  whom  Europe  is  still  so  much  indebted,  of  the  savior  of  the 
arts  of  Greece,  but  a  few  scattered  traditions  of  his  disciples, 
which  we  have  here  attempted  to  collect  and  to  preserve.' 

Mr.  Villemain,  in  common  with  most  of  the  distinguished 
scholars  of  Europe,  felt  a  deep  interest  in  the  fortunes  of  the 
Greeks,  during  their  late  eventful  struggle.  This  sentiment 
appears  to  have  induced  him  to  write  tlie  story  of  Lascaris, 
which  relates,  as  we  have  seen,  to  the  period,  when  they  first 
became  subject  to  the  dominion  of  the  Turks ;  and  which  is 
followed  by  a  historical  sketch  of  the  condition  of  Greece  from 
the  time  of  its  subjugation  to  the  year  1814.  This  sketch, 
though  very  short,  is  yet  valuable  and  interesting ;  for  it  de- 
scribes that  condition  during  a  period,  which  has  not  before 
been  made  the  subject  of  a  connected  history ;  and  it  shews 
also,  that  the  sternest  oppression,  though  it  may  subdue,  has  no 
power  entirely  to  destroy  the  spirit  of  a  gallant  people.  We 
find  in  it  some  traces  of  that  energy  and  valor,  which  have 
been  within  a  few  years  so  signally  displayed ;  and  the  per- 
severing courage  of  the  Suliotes  in  defending  tlieir  native 
mountains  against  the  force  and  treachery  of  Ali  Pacha,  is  not 
surpassed  in  self-devotion  by  any  other  ancient  or  modem 
example. 

In  a  short  essay  upon  the  life  and  writings  of  Pope,  our 
author  displays  his  usual  discernment,  not  wholly  free,  however, 
from  national  partiality.  He  places  the  Essay  on  Criticism  far 
below  the  Art  Poetique  of  Boileau :  considers  the  Lutrin  as  in 
every  respect  superior  to  the  Rape  of  the  Lock ;  and  the 
satire  A  mon  Esprit  as  worth  the  whole  Dunciad.  But  he  has 
no  sympathy  with  those  modem  censors,  who,  not  content  with 
assailing  the  poet's  private  character,  have  labored  to  cast 
down  his  statue  from  the  elevated  place,  which  the  world  has 
been  contented  to  assign  to  it  for  near  a  century.  There  is 
indeed  something  strange  and  ahnost  peculiar,  in  the  fate  of 


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1830.]  VtOemain's  Mseettanies.  109 

his  poetical  reputation.  He  was  invested  by  the  fond  admira- 
tion of  his  contemporaries,  and  the  succeeding  age,  with  ahnost 
despotic  authority  in  the  literary  world ;  but  within  a  few  years, 
a  new.  definition  of  poetry  has  been  set  up,  with  as  much 
ceremony  as  a  certain  statue  was  anciently  erected  on  the  plain 
of  Dura — a  definition,  which  limits  the  domain  of  poetry  to 
the  world  of  nature,  to  the  entire  exclusion  of  the  world  of 
art,  as  if  art  were  not  itself  one  of  the  forms  of  nature.  It  is 
true,  that  Pope  may  be  in  some  respects  regarded  as  the 
poet  of  social  life ;  but  it  is  far  from  bemg  true,  that  his  poetry 
is  wholly  the  result  of  it,  or  that  he  never  '  opened  the  win- 
dows of  his  saloon  to  behold  the  green  fields ;'  and  even  if  it 
had  been  so,  we  should  still  hesitate  to  adopt  a  'definition, 
which  would  cashier  nearly  all  poets,  past,  present,  and  to  come. 
The  controversy  with  respect  to  Pope's  title  to  the  name  has 
been  carried  on  as  fiercely  as  the  battle  raged  of  old  over  the 
dead  body  of  Patroclus.  From  the  warmth  and  vigor  of  the 
combatants,  one  would  have  thought,  that  instead  of  relating  to 
the  merits  of  a  writer  of  the  early  part  of  the  last  century,  it 
must  have  involved  at  the  very  least,  some  vexed  problem  of 
political  economy,  or  some  novel  me&sure  of  taxation.  We 
have  neither  room  nor  inclination  to  engage  in  this  controversy 
at  present ;  more  particularly,  as  the  approbation  of  our  own 
age  appears  to  be  confirming  the  judgment  of  the  last ;  and  as 
we  have  no  disposition  to  doubt  the  correctness  of  the  decision. 
In  one  particular,  however,  the  world  at  large  appears  to  be 
m  some  degree  forgetful  of  its  real  obligations.  We  admit, 
that  the  poetry  of  Pope  displays  litde  of  the  infinite  variety  of 
Shakspeare,  or  the  sublimity  of  Milton ;  that  it  is  inferior  in 
power  to  that  of  Dryden  ;  but  it  must  still  be  his  imquestioned 
praise,  that  he  carried  the  sustained  harmony  and  sweetness  of 
English  versification  to  a  degree  of  excellence  unknown  before. 
It  is  difilcult,  indeed,  to  detect  much  of  the  dulcet  and  harmo- 
nious in  the  earlier  English  poets.  The  rhymes  of  Chaucer 
form  no  exception  to  this  remark ;  those  of  Sydney  would  be 
very  unlikely  to  ravish  the  ears  of  modern  beauty  ;  the  music 
as  well  as  the  dialect  of  Dr.  Donne,  might  well  enough  have 
been  pillaged  from  his  *  bricklayers  of  Babel ;'  and  even  the 
good  genius  of  Shakspeare,  although  it  be  as  bright  and  beauti- 
ful as  the  Ariel  of  his  own  enchanter,  appears  partially  to  de- 
sert him,  when  he  submits,  as  he  occasionally  does,  to  the 
shackles  of  rhyme ;  while  Pope,  on  the  contrary,  wears  the 


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110  Politics  of  Meaico.  [July, 

chain  with  perfect  grace  and  ease.  We  do  not  deny,  that 
i^ecimens  of  versi&ation,  equal  if  not  superior  to  his,  are  to 
be  found  in  the  writings  of  some  of  the  poets  of  the  sevente^idi 
century ;  but  we  know  no  other  exam{de  of  uniibrni  and  un- 
broken perfection  in  this  department  of  the  art,  before  the  time 
of  Pope.  Dryden's  translation  of  the  iBneid  is  superior  in 
certain  parts  to  any  portion  of  Pope's  version  of  the  Iliad ; 
but  we  think  we  hazard  little  in  saying,  that  it  is  decidedly  in- 
ferior in  point  of  versification,  considered  as  a  whole.  Now 
unless  poetry  should  resemble  the  sort  of  musac  which  the  clown 
in  Shakspeare  declared  to  be  most  agreeable  to  his  master-— 
namely,  that  which  cannot  be  heard — ^it  is  really  of  some  slight 
consequence,  that  it  ^ould  not  be  too  chromatic ;  that  it  should 
not  grate  too  harshly  on  the  ear ;  and  we  are  far  from  reliv- 
ing the  innovations  of  some  of  our  contemporary  poets,  who 
have  attempted  to  render  their  versification  more  attractive,  by 
making  it  resemble  the  pirates'  song  in  die  Corsair,  which 
seemed  a  song  only  to  ears  as  rugged  as  the  rocks  that  sent 
back  its  echo.  With  whatever  other  defects  the  'little  night- 
ingale,' as  Pope  was  called  in  his  youth,  may  be  justly  charge- 
able, we  are  inclined  on  the  whc^  to  consider  it  as  by  no 
means  the  smallest  of  his  merits,  that  his  claim  to  the  poetical 
character  is  not  founded  on  discordant  harshness  of  ratifica- 
tion. 

We  take  our  leave  of  Mr.  ViUemain's  woric,  regretting  that 
it  is  not  in  our  power  to  give  our  readers  a  more  adequate  idea 
of  its  merits,  and  more  numerous  specimens  of  his  pure  and 
beautifiil  style.  We  can  assure  those  who  may  be  inclined  to 
examine  it,  that  it  will  abundandy  reward  the  labor  of  perusal. 


Art.  VI. — 1.  Manifiesto  del  General  Antonio  Lopez  de  Santa 
Ana  a  stLs  conciudadanos.    Vera  Cruz.  Mayo,  16  de,  1S29. 

2.  Manifiesto  del  Gobemador  del  Estado  de  Mexico^  duda- 
dano  Lorenzo  de  Zavala.     Tlalpam.  1829. 

3.  Acta  del  pronundamiento  de  la  gran  Mexico^  par  d  res-- 
tabledmiento  de  la  constitudon  y  las  leyes.  Mexico.  1829. 

We  have  for  a  long  time  mtended  to  present  to  our  readers, 
a  view  of  the  actual  condition  and  prospects  of  our  immediate 
neighbor,  the  Republic  of  Mexico.     Recent  occurrences  have 


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18S0.]  Polkks  of  Meisko.  Ill 

combined  with  the  essential  peculiarities  of  her  history  and  in- 
stitutions, to  command  on  the  part  of  the  citizens  of  this  coun- 
try, the  most  anxious  attention ;  and  whether  the  result  of  inter- 
nal dissension  or  foreign  invasion  has  been  the  object  of  solici- 
tude, in  regard  to  Mexico,  the  public  mind  has  of  late  been 
singularly  agitated.  Recent  events  weie  not,  however,  re- 
quisite to  give  ^  New-Spain,  a  paramount  importance;  in 
the  eye  of  the  American  politician.  Her  comparative  and 
absolute  influence  in  the  cisatlantic  family  from  extent  of 
territory  and  density  of  population,  her  great  physical  re- 
sources both  in  a  mineral  and  agricultural  point  of  view,  the 
uniformity  in  most  respects  of  her  political  institutions  and 
our  own,  her  comj^cated  diplomatic  relations,  modified  by  an 
onerous  foreign  debt,  and  by  the  encouragement  of  foreign 
corporations,  and  the  investment  of  foreign  capital  for  the  im- 
provement of  the  mines,  are  bdependent  circum^ances,  which 
render  her  conditicKQ  a  worthy  object  of  interest.  We  should 
not  so  long  have  postponed  the  performance  of  this  part  of  our 
duty,  had  it  not  been  for  the  uncertainty  of  the  prospect  and 
the  impenetrable  cloud  b  which  an  almost  ludicrous  series  of 
revolutions  has  involved  Mexican  affiiirs.  In  three  years  thei:e 
have  been  no  less  than  three  violent  changes  of  administration, 
and  more  local  and  unsuccessful  rebellions  than  we  shall  be 
able  to  record.  To  calculate  the  chances  of  permanent  gov- 
ernment in  such  a  political  atmosphere,  or  at  any  time  within 
the  last  year,  to  venture  to  foretell  what  might  be  at  the  end  of 
a  given  period,  would  have  been  idle.  We  shall  not  pretend 
to  predict  even  now.  The  elemental  war  seems  in  a  measure 
to  have  subsided,  but  we  have  had  too  much  experience  in  ob- 
serving Mexican  signs  of  times  and  seasons,  to  trust  without 
reserve  to  cloudless  skies  and  smooth  seas.  Hoping  sincerely 
that  Mr.  Jefferson's  theory  of  the  salutary  influence  of  frequent 
rebellions  and  political  commotions  may  be  sound,  we  will 
endeavor  to  give  to  our  readers  an  intelligible  narrative  of  what 
has  occurred,  and  a  candid  expression  of  opinions  of  the  con- 
duct of  the  various  statesmen  who  have  regulated  the  policy  of 
Mexico,  derived  fiom  an  attentive,  and  we  believe,  impartial 
consideration  of  the  whole  subject.  There  are  several  collate- 
ral points,  to  which  we  may  give  an  incidental  notice. 

It  is  fair  to  premise  that  our  admiration  of  the  Spanish 
American  character  is  not  excessive,  aftd  that  the  result  of  our 
observation  of  the  conduct  of  the  new  republics  since  the  ter- 


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112  Politici  of  Mexico.  [July, 

mmation  of  actual  contest  with  the  mother  country,  has  been 
severe  disappointment.  It  is  but  just  to  ourselves  to  add,  that, 
great  as  has  been  our  disappomtment,  we  never  have  doubted 
dieir  capacity  for  self-government.  We  do  not  doubt  it  now. 
In  common  with  the  great  body  of  our  fellow-citizens,  the 
progress  of  the  revolution  was  watched  by  us  with  the  most 
intense  anxiety.  It  was  a  spectacle  comparable  in  point  of 
moral  grandeur  only  with  our  own  struggle  for  freedom.  The 
patriots  of  the  South  were  judged  worthy  of  as  lofty  pedestals 
as  those  on  which  the  venerable  figures  of  our  nwn  classic 
worthies  stood ;  and  the  names  of  Bolivar,  San  Martin,  Hidalgo, 
Allende,  and  Morelos,  were  as  completely  consecrated  by  &e 
fervor  of  oiu*  admiration,  as  those  of  any  of  our  revolutionary 
heroes.  There  was  a  vague,  we  had  almost  said,  irrational 
enthusiasm  on  this  subject,  in  which  we  dl  equally  partook. 
This  kind  feeling  has  gradually  given  place  to  a  comparative 
indifference,  which,  we  fear,  is,  in  the  minds  of  many  who  have 
had  more  frequent  opportunities  of  immediate  mtercourse,  but 
one  shade  removed  from  positive  aversion.  The  change  of 
feelmg  to  which  we  have  referred,  has  been  regularly  progressive 
since  the  period  when,  by  the  annihilation  of  &e  Spanish  power, 
the  new  republics  no  longer  needed  our  sympathy.  They  had 
fought  the  battle  bravely,  and  in  its  alternate  successes  and 
reverses,  they  had  had  the  cordial  wishes  of  every  man  in  our 
country.  When  the  triumphant  result  was  achieved,  the  world 
looked  with  equal  interest,  if  not  with  equal  confidence,  to  their 
conduct  of  civil  government,  and  to  the  event  of  the  most  trying 
period  of  national  existence,  the  interval  between  the  termina- 
tion of  successful  rebellion  and  the  establishment  of  definite 
political  institutions.  That  period  also  ended  happily,  and  con- 
stitutions of  a  perfectly  intelligible  and  well-settled  character, 
though  of  varied  forms,  were  adopted  by  all  the  infant  commu- 
nities. Columbia  fixed  her  constitution  in  1821,  during  the 
turmoil  and  confiision  of  a  most  bloody  civil  war,  and  the  Federal 
government  of  Mexico  went  into  operation  in  1 824,  while  the 
enemy,  an  enemy  too  of  most  faithful  vigilance  and  determina- 
tion, was  still  within  her  borders.  In  all  these  national  charters, 
there  were  details  little  consonant  with  the  legitimate  provisions 
of  free  institutions,  and  practical  inconsistencies  at  which  their 
sanguine  admirers  were  startled.  That  nations  who  had  been 
so  long  and  conscientiously  contending  for  equality  of  privileges 
and  perfect  freedom  of  thought  and  action,  should,  by  express 


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1830.]  Politics  of  Mexico.  113 

constitutional  provision,  decree  religious  intolerance  and  punish 
the  profession  of  religious  tenets  at  variance  from  the  national 
standard  of  doctrine,  could  not  easily  be  conceived.  This  is 
niientioned  as  one  of  the  sources  of  the  change  of  sentiment  to 
which  allusion  has  been  made.  It  was,  however,  in  itself  un- 
important. The  actual  state  of  society,  and  the  influence  of 
ancient  habit,  in  a  great  measure  excused  it.  Had  there  been 
nothing  else  at  variance  from  t>ur  wishes  and  hopes,  such  incon- 
gruities would  have  been  forgotten.  The  fruitful  causes  of 
discontent  have,  however,  developed  themselves  since,  and  may 
be  found  in  the  terrible  intestine  commotions  that  have  agitated 
the  new  republics,  of  which  the  impulse  has  been  individual 
ambition  or  military  licentiousness,  and  the  result  too  often  the 
virtual  prostration  of  civil  liberty  at  the  foot  of  some  successful 
factionist — ^in  the  total  want  of  that  sympathy  which  we  antici- 
pated from  the  uniformity  of  our  political  institutions — in  the 
comparative  indifference,  if  not  absolute  ill  will  towards  us,  which 
has  generaUy  been  manifested  in  the  coiu-se  of  our  diplomatic  m- 
tercourse,  signally  so  in  the  instances  of  the  failure  of  all  s^tempts 
to  negotiate  a  commercial  treaty  with  Mexico,  and  theperverse 
disappoinUnent  of  the  enlightened  and  beneficent  views  of  our 
government  by  the  annihilation  of  the  Panama  project.  These 
are  some  of  the  many  causes  of  the  alienation  of  our  aflfection 
from  our  republican  neighbors.  There  are  beside  peculiarities 
of  Spanish  American  character,  known  only  by  actual  and 
constant  intercoiu-se,  which  have  had  some  share  in  contributmg 
to  the  same  result.  We  have  referred  to  the  effect  of  these 
circumstances  as  matter  of  sincere  regret.  It  is,  however,  a 
fact  beyond  dispute,  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  Spanish  Ameri- 
can countries  stand,  if  not  positively,  at  least  relatively,  low  in 
our  estimation,  intellectually,  morally,  and  politically.  We 
question  very  much  ivhether  even  *  forty-five'  of,  our  national 
representatives  could  now  be  found  to  participate  in  the  enthu- 
siasm so  eloquently,  expressed  on  this  subject  on  the  floor  of 
Congress  not  fifteen  years  ago.  We  have  entered  on  these 
prefatory  remarks  reluctantly,  but  with  a  firm  persuasion  that 
they  embody  the  real,  if  not  the  avowed  sentiments  of  a  great 
portion  of  our  fellow-citizens.  We  must  not  be  understood 
to  say  that  we  have  no  sympathetic  feeling  with  our  fellow- 
republieans.  We  have  a  sensitive  and  rational  sympathy,  too 
sensitive  not  to  perceive  defects  of  character  and  conduct,  too 

VOL.  XXXI.-T-NO.  68.  16 


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1 14  Politics  of  Mexico,  [July* 

rational  to  allow  us  to  pass  them  without  censure,  or  at  least 
without  the  expression  of  regret. 

The  character  of  the  revolutionary  contest  in  Mexico  was 
essentially  distinct  from  that  of  the  struggle  in  the  other  colo- 
nies of  Spam.  The  sufferings  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  Vice- 
royalty  of  New-Spam,  from  the  consequences  of  civil  war, 
were  far  less  severe.  The  conflict,  though  as  enduring  in  its 
continuance,  had  but  a  local  violence ;  and  while  scenes  were 
acted  of  the  most  bloody  and  ferocious  nature  in  parts  of  its 
territory,  the  great  portion  of  the  population,  though  not  insen- 
sible to  the  excitement,  were  not  immediately  exiposed  to  the 
dangers  and  sufferings  of  the  conflict.  It  may  be  said  of  the 
revolutionary  war  throughout  Spanish  America,  that  its  charac- 
teristic was  irregularity.  To  New-Spain,  thb  distinction  par- 
ticularly belongs.  When  the  difficulty  of  cooperation  with  the 
juntas  in  the  mother  country  was  strongly  felt  in  Mexico  in 
1809,  and  dissension  occurred  between  the  Viceroy  and  the 
Audiencia,  the  discord  was  scarcely  perceived  beyond  the  limits 
of  the  capital.  Hidalgo's  overt  act  of  rebellion  was  also  limited 
in  its  influence,  and  Ae  effect  of  the  first  active  revolutionary 
movement  was  as  partial  as  its  success  was  temporary.  The 
line  of  his  march  from  the  small  village  of  Dolores,  where  he 
raised  his  standard,  to  the  hill  of  Las  Cruces,  within  view  of 
Mexico,  whence  he  commenced  his  fatal  and  mysterious  retreat, 
and  thence  to  the  wilds  of  Chihuahua,  where  he  was  captured 
and  executed,  may  be  traced  by  the  violent  combats  which 
attended  his  career  ;*  but  except  on  this  line,  the  country  seenaed 
to  be  tranquil  and  resigned  to  any  result.  Of  the  unsuccessful 
attempts  of  Mina  and  Morelos,  particularly  the  former,  the 
same  remark  may  be  made ;  and  until  the  close  of  the  war 
immediately  anterior  to  the  adoption  of  the  plan  of  Iguala  and 
the  defection  of  Iturbide,  it  may  be  described  as  a  succession 
of  brilliant,  but  incoherent  struggles,  partaking  more  of  the 
character  of  a  series  of  accidental  insurrections,  than  of  a  con- 
tinuous civil  war.  The  duration  of  the  contest,  conducted,  as 
it  was  on  the  part  of  the  Spaniards,  with  scattered  forces  and 
inefficient  leaders,  and  the  fact,  that,  with  the  single  exception 
of  Calleja,  the  conqueror  of  Hidalgo,  and,  as  he  has  been 
called,  not  inappropriately,  the  Spanish  Claverhouse,  no  single 
general  officer  of  distinguished  military  ability  is  to  be  found 
among  the  Spanish  leaders,  strongly  illustrate  this.  Had  it 
been  otherwise,  and  had  the  same  persevering  eflbrt  been  made 


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1830.]  Polities  of  Mexico.  115 

by  the  mother  country  in  Mexico  as  in  Columbia,  though  the 
ultimate  result  would  .unquestionably  have  been  the  same,  the 
contest  must  have  continued  much  longer,  or  with  the  increased 
necessity  of  conunon  action,  and  the  imminence  of  common 
danger,  a  more  complete  and  effective  organization  of  the 
patriotic  forces  would  have  been  secured.  As  it  was,  the 
revolutionary  spirit  prevailed  by  its  own  essential  strength,  and 
from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  the  war,  the  brave  men  who 
were  acting  in  opposition  to  the  Viceroys,  acted  without  respon- 
sibility or  control.  If  a  more  thorough  excitement  had  prevailed 
in  the  Provinces,  this  independence  of  the  revolutionary  leaders 
must  have  ceased,  and  either  a  civil  or  military  supervising 
power  would  have  been  called  into  existence.  In  May,  1811, 
Rayon,  a  chieftain  of  great  capacity,  and  the  first  who  realized 
the  necessity  of  producing,  by  means  of  a  General  Congress 
or  Junta,  more  harmonious  cooperation  among  the  enemies  of 
the  old  dynasty,  attempted  to  convoke  a  convention  at  Ziticuazo. 
In  this  project,  representation  of  the  people  seems  to  have  been 
less  an  object  than  the  creation,  no  matter  whether  by  regular  or 
irregular  means,  of  a  controlling  tribunal  of  some  kind.  It  met, 
published  a  manifesto  expressive  of  the  feelings  by  which  the 
members  were  actuated,  and  theif  views  as  to  the  most  politic 
course  to  be  pursued,  and,  after  having  continued  its  sessions  for 
a  few  months,  dissolved  by  its  own  weakness,  or  rather  merged 
in  the  more  general  Congress  convoked  in  the  following  year 
by  Morelos.  This  distinguished  man  had,  it  would  seem,  fi-om 
the  commencement  of  the  war,  cherished  with  the  deepest  in- 
terest the  project  of  a  General  Congress,  and  appears  to  have 
been  prevented  from  sooner  putting  it  in  execution  only  by  the 
continuance  of  the  personal  danger  to  which  he  was  exposed. 
With  the  most  chivalrous  spirit,  he  combbed  a  mind  of  singular 
capacity  and  penetration;  and  whether  he  directed  military 
movements,  or  advised  plans  of  civil  policy,  he  was  beyond  all 
question  the  ablest  and  most  efficient  enemy  of  the  Spanish 
cause  that  acted  a  part  in  the  drama  of  the  times.  On  the 
13th  of  September,  1813,  his  Congress,  composed  of  the  sur- 
viving members  of  Rayon's  Junta,  of  deputies  from  the  province 
of  Oaxaca,  the  only  one  wholly  in  the  possession  of  the  insur- 
gents, and  of  the  representatives  chosen  by  them  of  the  provinces 
in  the  hands  of  the  royalist  troops,  met  in  the  town  of  Chilpan- 
zingo.  Its  history  is  soon  told.  The  only  acts  of  the  Congress 
worthy  of  note,  were  the  declaration  of  Mexican  Independence, 


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116  Polities  of  Mexico.  [^ulfi 

published  immediately  after  its  convention)  and  a  sketch  of  a 
Constitution  for  the  new  Republic,  prepared  a  few  months 
before  the  termination  of  its  session.  At  the  moment  of  the 
convocation  of  the  Congress,  the  bright  star  of  Morelos  had 
begun  to  decline,  and  in  the  month  of  November,  1815,  after 
an  unmterrupted  series  of  disastrous  reverses,  he  was  taken 
and  executed  by  the  Spaniards.  On  his  fall,  the  Congress 
seemed  to  have  lost  its  active  principle,  and,  after  mamtaining 
an  uncertain  existence  for  a  few  months,  was  forcibly  dissolved 
by  General  Teran.  Thus  terminated  the  only  two  attempts  at 
regular  government  made  in  the  whole  course  of  the  revolution 
of  New-Spain,  and  with  them  ended  even  the  appearance  of 
cooperation  among  the  insurgent  forces.  Mina's  invasion  fol- 
lowed, and  on  its  disastrous  result  the  energies  of  the  revolu- 
tionists seemed  paralyzed ;  their  leaders  without  troops,  without 
money,  without  means  of  communication  or  counsel,  were 
scattered  over  the  face  of  the  country,  wandering  among  the 
recesses  of  the  mountams ;  and  so  perfect  was  the  tranquillity, 
and  so  complete  the  submission,  that  the  Viceroy  wrote  to  his 
government  diat  die  revolution  bad  ended,  and  that  without  the 
aid  of  an  additional  regiment,  he  would  ensure  the  quiet  pos- 
session of  Mexico  to  the  Spanish  crown. 

The  military  occurrences  of  the  Mexican  revolution  are 
familiar  to  our  readers,  and  we  have  incidentally  referred  to 
them  merely  as  illustrative  of  our  views  of  the  domestic  poli- 
tics of  the  Republic.  The  peculiarities  of  the  contest  exer- 
cised a  decided  influence  in  producing  the  singular  and  unfor- 
tunate state  of  feeling  to  which  the  origin  of  parties  may  be 
traced.  Beside  the  absence  of  any  organized  government, 
there  is  another  circumstance  connected  with  the  concluding 
years  of  the  revolution,  which  we  will  here  mention.  In  1819, 
the  military  contest  ended,  and  during  the  two  years  which 
intervened  between  that  time  and  the  coronation  of  Iturbide, 
the  succession  of  events  may  be  more  distincdy  traced  by  the 
various  pacific  compromises  and  negotiations  which  occurred, 
than  by  acts  of  violence  and  bloodshed.  Between  1820  and 
1821,  there  were  no  military  movements  of  any  moment.  The 
restoration  of  the  Spanish  Constitution  had  embarrassed  the 
Royalist  leaders  extremely,  and  occasioned  a  dissension  in  the 
ranks  of  those  who  before  had  looked  with  undivided  attention 
to  a  single  object,  and  had  never  deviated  from  the  most  per- 
fect unanimi^.     Royalist  hitherto  had  been  a  specific  term  of 


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1830.]  Polities  of  Meoiieo.  117 

precise  meaning.  A  distinction  was  now  drawn  between  con- 
stitutional Royalists  and  absolute  Royalists.  The  temporary 
liberty  of  the  press  and  the  institution  of  a  comparatively  fair 
mode  of  judicial  mquiry,  gave  a  license  to  all  parties,  by  which 
all  were  strengthened  but  the  Absolutists,  and  the  Viceroy  and 
his  counsellors  found  their  power  gradually  diminishing  by  the 
injudicious  liberality  of  the  government  they  represented,  and 
for  whose  rights  and  possessions  they  were  so  strenuously  con- 
tending. The  first  appearance  of  Iturbide  as  a  leader,  was  in 
the  execution  of  a  project  of  the  Viceroy  Apodaca,  to  proclaim 
the  absolute  authority  of  the  King  in  New-Spain,  in  opposition 
to  the  Cortes.  In  such  a  project,  Iturbide's  intelligence  and 
knowledge  of  the  real  state  of  feeling  throughout  the  country 
prevented  him  fix)m  earnestly  involving  himself;  and  his  first 
act,  when  invested  with  authority,  was  by  a  politic  and  reaUy 
beneficial  compromise  between  the  Independents  and  Consti- 
tutional Monarchists  to  give  the  death-blow  to  European  do- 
minion in  Mexicp.  The  grito  which  announced  the  treaty  of 
Iguala  was  the  knell  of  the  authority  of  the  Spanish  monarchy. 
The  provisions  of  that  plan  and  of  the  treaty  of  Cordova,  con- 
cluded on  the  arrival  of  the  new  Viceroy,  were  conceived  in  a 
spirit  of  judicious  and  necessary  liberality.  The  latter  was  a 
virtual  abdication  and  disavowal  of  the  rights  of  the  crown  of 
Spain,  and  its  date  is  that  of  the  termination  of  the  revolution. 
The  efiect  of  this  pacific  termination  of  the  conventions  of 
Iguala  and  Cordova,  was  the  security  of  the  great  body  of  Eu- 
ropeans resident  in  the  country.  This  result  has  been  pregnant 
with  mjury  to  the  happiness  and  tranquillity  of  the  new  Repub- 
lic. Had  the  same  bloody  scenes  been  acted  at  the  close  as  at 
the  commencement  of  the  war,  and  the  same  exasperaUon  ex- 
isted generally  during  the  years  immediately  anterior  to  the  for- 
mation of  the  new  government  as  did  locally  on  the  first  explosion 
of  the  patriotic  feeling,  the  Spanish  residents  could  not  have 
survived,  and  their  expatriation  would  bevitably  have  been  the 
consequence  of  the  triumph  of  the  American  arms.  A  plausi- 
ble pretext  for  party  vblence  and  political  profligacy  would  by 
such  a  result  have  been  withheld,  and  the  most  fruitful  source 
of  animosity  would  have  been  cut  off.  Hostility  to  the  Span- 
ish citizens  has  been  the  distinction,  for  want  of  a  better,  of  one 
of  the  Mexican  political  sects,  and  their  removal  has  been  the 
theme  of  the  most  acrimonious  controversy.  Had  they  been 
expelled  during  the  excitement  of  a  civil  war,  and  exile  been 


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118  Polities  of  Mexico.  [^^uty, 

made  the  penalty  of  hostility  unequivocally  manifested  towards 
republican  principles,  there  would  have  been  no  cause  of  com- 
plaint. But  to  expatriate  inoffensive  men  and  good  citizens, 
solely  on  account  of  tlieir  origin  and  parentage  in  spite  of  guar- 
antees  and  contracts  voluntarily  made,  and  more  than  once 
solemnly  ratified,  is  an  act  of  political  iniquity,  which  we  should 
be  ashamed  to  excuse.  We  regard  the  recognition  of  the 
rights  of  the  Spanish  residents  as  a  subject  of  regret,  as  the 
necessary  effect  of  circumstances.  We  consider  the  violation 
of  those  rights  as  a  measure  as  impolitic  as  it  was  unjust. 
We  shall  have  occasion  to  refer  again  to  the  persecution  of  the 
Spaniards  in  pursuing  the  narrative  of  recent  events ;  and  in 
delineating,  as  we  propose  to  do,  the  parties  which  under  one 
name  or  another  have  .ruled  the  destinies  and  distracted  the 
peace  of  Mexico. 

We  approach  this  history  of  parties  with  diffidence  and  re- 
luctance. We  know  too  well  the  obscurity  which  shrouds 
political  history  in  our  own  country  and  times,  to  hope  accu- 
rately to  discriminate  between  contending  parties  abroad,  or 
to  attempt  to  give  more  than  a  general  outline  of  the  distinctive 
principles  of  the  classes  of  individuals  into  whose  hands  the 
administration  of  Mexican  affairs  has  fallen.  Since  the  insti- 
tution of  the  new  government,  there  has  been  a  political  con- 
flict of  unexampled  violence  and  exasperation  between  parties 
of  nearly  equal  strength,  the  first  consequence  of  which  was 
to  paralyse  the  energy  of  government,  even  in  times  of  tran- 
quillity, and  the  ultimate  effect  a  series  of  revolutions  destructive 
of  every  thing  but  the  forms  of  the  constitution.  -  It  is  in  the 
history  of  these  recent  commotions  that  political  distinctions 
may  be  accurately  learned,  and  to -a  faithful  narrative  of  these 
events  we  invite  the  attention  of  our  readers. 

In  the  legislature  or  convention,  which  assembled  after  the 
dethronement  of  Iturbide,  the  germs  of  political  discord  became 
animated.  The  first  question  agitated  in  that  body  was^ 
whether  the  consolidated  or  the  federal  form  should  be  ^adopted 
as  the  basis  of  their  Constitution,  and  on  this  point  the  most 
intelligent  and  patriotic  Mexicans  differed.  The  example  of 
Columbia  was  urged  on  one  side  ;  that  of  the  Federal  Union 
of  the  North  American  States  on  the  other.  The  superior 
energy  of  a  national  government  legislatmg  for  all  its-  citizens, 
particularly  in  time  of  war,  was  suggested  by  the  Centralists. 
The  danger  of  the  want  of  a  safe  local  legislation,  and  of  tyran- 


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1830.]  PoUUes  of  Measico.  119 

xiical  usurpation  of  power  by  an  uncontrolled  political  head,  was 
veheraendy  insisted  on  by  the  Federalists.  The  principles  of 
the  latter,  as  b  well  known,  triumphed,  and  the  present  Consti- 
tution, when  once  recommended  by  the  Legislature,  went  into 
operation  without  opposition  elsewhere. 

The  adoption  of  a  federal  form  of  government  by  the  con- 
stituent Congress  of  Mexico,  has  been  regarded  as  a  conclusive 
proof  of  the  enlightened  intelligence  and  salutary  policy  of  her 
first  legislators.  We  are  not  prepared  to  say  that  this  appro- 
bation is  entirely  undeserved ;  but  we  do  say  emphatically,  that, 
by  identifymg  die  supporters  of  a  central  government  with  the 
friends  of  despotism,  or  even  with  the  blinded  advocates  of  per- 
nicious or  impracticable  ^sterns,  great  injustice  has  been  done. 
The  advocates  of  centrsdism  were  amcxigst  the  most  liberal 
and  enlightened  of  the  patriots  of  Mexico.  They  thought  they 
saw  in  a  Federation  of  Independent  States  difficulues  of  real 
and  insurmountable  magnitude,  and  the  experience  of  the  last 
few  years  shows  that  these  apprehensions  were  not  wholly 
groundless.  We  in  our  own  happy  country  are  very  apt  to 
give  more  wei^t  to  the  analogy  of  our  political  experience^ 
and  of  our  institutions,  than  they  deserve ;  and  that  process  of 
reasoning  is  most  ynsound,  by  means  of  which  we  conclude, 
that  because  our  form  of  government  works  well,  it  is  therefore 
the  most  eligible  for  other  nadons.  In  Mexico,  for  instance, 
where  the  argument  was  most  strongly,  but  we  think  inap- 
propriately used,  the  points  of  dL^rence  between  its  situation 
and  ours,  at  the  time  of  forming  the  Constitudon,  are  most 
striking.  Before  the  organization  of  the  Federal  Union  in  1 787, 
we  had  our  Confederation,  and  before  that,  the  various  colonial 
legislatures  acted  in  their  different  spheres  with  harmony  and 
seciu'ity.  Canada  and  New-York  are  not  mcHre  distinct  than 
were  New-York  and  Pennsylvania  before  the  confederation  of 
1778.  In  Mexico,  before  the  revolution,  there  was  a  perfect 
political  consolidation.  The  Viceroy  and  Audiencia  ruled  the 
whole  kingdom  of  New-Spain;  and  the  Intendencies,  which 
were  subdivisions  made  for  the  convenience  of  the  government, 
and  not  m  consequence  of  any  physical  or  territorial  limits,  bore 
no  such  resemblance  to  the  well-defined  and  distinct  commu- 
nities among  the  British  colonies.  Not  only,  therefore,  was  it 
necessary  to  organize  the  Federal  Government,  but  to  create 
the  states  of  which  the  Federation  was  to  be  formed  ;  and  not 
only  was  it  necessai  y  to  supply  the  Legislature  of  the  Union  with 


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120  PoUtica  of  Mexico.  [July, 

members  competent  to  perfonn  their  duty,  but  to  find  intel- 
lectual supplies  to  sustain  each  state  legislature. 

It  had  been  the  policy  of  the  Spanish  rulers  to  keep  the 
inhabitants  of  the  colonies  in  profound  and  utter  ignorance  of 
political  science,  and  to  disqualify  them  by  circumscribing  the 
limits  of  their  observation,  and  giving  an  unpropitious  turn  to 
their  studies  and  pursuits,  from  conducting  the  business  of 
government,  or  executing  its  most  triflmg  trusts.  This  policy 
had  been  in  great  measure  successful ;  and  it  was  in  the  prac- 
tical ignorance  of  the  great  mass  of  the  population,  and  in  their 
admitted  inability  to  perform  public  duties,  that  tiie  friends  of 
a  central,  and  therefore  a  simple,  government,  found  a  strong 
argument.  In  a  community  of  men  competent  from  actusd 
experience  to  assume  politicsd  responsibility,  a  complicated 
system,  requiring  the  support  of  many,  may  be  practicable ;  in 
a  community  of  septate  existing  states,  jealous  of  their  privi- 
leges, and  proud  of  their  essential  separation,  it  may  be  neces- 
sary ;  but  "to  undertake  the  delicate  and  laborious  process  of 
first  dividing,  and  then  joining  together;  of  first  making  the 
States,  and  then  the  Federation ;  of  first  making  a  political 
scheme,  and  then  findbg  men  capable  of  putting  it  into  opera- 
tion, was  more  than  careful  politicians  co:uld  advise,  and 
what  none  but  the  most  sanguine  could  hope  to  see  succeed. 
All  these  difficulties  might,  it  was  urged,  be  obviated  by  tiie 
organization  of  a  central  government,  which  would  in  time  of 
war  secure  the  concentration  of  the  national  energies,  and  in 
peace  preserve  to  every  citizen  his  rights.  It  is  difficult  to 
deny  the  strength  of  such  reasoning,  and  we  freely  confess  that 
suggestions  such  as  these,  which  were  forgotten  in  the  singular 
glow  of  pleasure  we  felt  on  leammg  that  our  fellow-republicans 
had  followed  our  example  in  organizing  their  infant  institutions, 
have  recentiy  revived  in  our  minds.  In  a  former  number  of 
our  journal,*  our  readers  will  find  a  view  of  the  superiority  of  a 
central  government  as  applied  to  Columbia.  We  refer  to  the 
sentiments  there  expressed,  as  in  unison  with  the  opinions  which 
an  attentive  consideration  of  the  subject  has  led  us  to  form  in 
regard  to  Mexico.  In  Columbia,  where  the  question  of  the 
relative  advantages  of  Federalism  and  Centralism  was  first 
agitated,  there  were  many  inducements  to  the  adoption  of  a 
Federal  Government,  which  did  not  exist  m  Mexico.     At  dif- 

*  No.  XXYIII.  w.  s. 


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1830.]  Politics  of  Mexico.  12t 

ferent  periods,  during  the  revolutions,  the  various  departments 
of  the  country  had  declared  themselves  substantive  communi- 
ties, and  had,  in  the  course  of  the  war,  by  their  separate  acts, 
acquired  at  least  the  jealousy  of  independence.  For  some 
time  anterior  to  the  meeting  of  the  convention  which  assembled 
at  Angostura  in  1819,  the  four  great  divisions  of  Popayan, 
Venezuela,  Cartbagena,  and  Cundimamarca,  had  been  acting 
separately.  These  were  not  merely  political  creations,  but 
divisions  discincdy  marked  by  physical  peculiarities,  and  by 
difference  of  population  and  climate.  The  inhabitants  of  the 
different  provmces  were  in  a  great  measure  strangers  to  each 
other,  having  been  debarred  from  frequent  and  harmonious  inter- 
course, as  well  by  the  physical  barriers  of  rivers  and  ridges  of 
almost  impassable  mountains,  as  by  the  secluding  policy  of  the 
Spanish  Government.  To  join  these  distinct  bodies  into  one 
conmiunity,  to  be  governed  by  one  council  and  common  laws, 
was,  therefore,  it  would  seem,  far  less  easy  than  to  organize  a 
confederation,  by  means  of  which  the  delicate  duty  of  local 
legislation  should  be  left  to  the  States,  and  which  would  not 
wound  the  feeling  of  State  pride,  which,  as  we  have  said, 
antecedent  independence  had  created.  Strong,  however,  as 
these  inducements  were,  the  difficulties  of  producing  an  harmo- 
nious confederate  action,  with  a  population  so  ignorant  and 
inexperienced,  or  even  of  organizing  a  safe  confederacy,  were 
too  manifest,  and  a  large  majority  of  the  convention  of  Cucuta 
wisely  approved  the  project  of  a  consolidated  government.  In 
Mexico,  it  is  impossible  to  find  any  mducements  corresponding 
to  those  which  so  naturally  operated  on  the  Federalists  of 
Columbia.  There  had  been  no  previous  cooperation  of  inde- 
pendent States ;  there  had  been,  in  fact,  no  independent  States 
to  cooperate,  no  particular  State  or  Province  having  assumed 
a  separate  character  and  government.  There  were  no  strongly 
marked  lines  to  divide  one  portion  of  the  country  from  another, 
and  the  population  wag  equally  ignorant  and  inexperienced. 
There  were-  in  reality  as  perfect  consolidation  and  natural  imity 
as  could  be  devised.  In  the  estimate  of  the  merits  of  the  two 
systems,  we  are  aware  that  the  opponents  of  central  govern- 
ments for  the  Spanish  Americans  wUl  appeal  to  the  experiment 
of  Columbia,  and  to  the  melancholy  spectacle  her  politics 
present,  as  aiK)rding  a  complete  refutation  of  all  our  praise  of 
her  Constitution.  It  would  be  a  sufficient  answer  to  such  a 
suggestion,  to  say,  that  the  federal  experiment  in  Mexico  has 
VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  68.  16 


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122  PoUtici  qf  Mexico.  [July, 

been  quite  as  unsuccessful,  and  that,  if  we  are  to  determine  the 
question  of  the  comparative  merits  of  the  forms  of  government 
by  a  comparison  of  the  condition  and  prospects  of  the  nations, 
the  actual  condition  of  the  latter  country  is  conclusive.  How 
well  the  central  system  of  Columbia  would  have  worked,  had 
the  nation  not  been  cursed  by  the  presence  x)f  an  individual  of 
paramount  abilities  and  uncontrolled  ambition,  it  is  impossible 
for  us  even  to  conjectiu'e.  But  that  it  has  failed,  and  that  the 
nation  has  been  convulsed  by  intestine  feuds,  are  no  more  to  be 
ascribed  to  a  defect  b  the  system,  than  the  destruction  of  a 
town  by  an  earthquake  is  to  be  attributed  to  a  want  of  iddll  in 
the  architect  who  raised  it.  It  seems  wholly  unreasonable  to 
conclude  that  the  Columbian  Constitution  was  radically  defective 
because  General  Bolivar  has  overthrown  it.  If  the  Mexican 
legislators,  instead  of  involving  themselves  in  the  intricacy  of 
National  and  State  governments,  had  organized  a  simple  and 
efficient  machine,  for  the  management  of  which  they  were 
perfectly  competent,  we  are  inclined  to  believe,  particularly  in 
the  absence  of  any  individual  whose  talents  and  influence  were 
formidable,  that  the  administration  of  their  affairs  would  have 
been  far  more  easy  and  prosperous.  They  would  have  been 
more  exempt  from  factious  influence  and  party  animosity. 
The  pernicious  consequences  of  the  unauthorized  and  deplora- 
ble interference  of  the  State  and  Federal  authorities  with  each 
other,  would  have  been  avoided.  The  difllculties  of  an  indirect 
mode  of  collecting  revenue  by  quotas,  to  be  raised  by  State 
taxation,  would  have  been  unfelt.  We  confess  we  are  not  a 
little  influenced  in  arriving  at  this  conclusion  by  the  observation 
of  recent  events,  and  by  the  absence  of  any  visible  cause  of 
political  commotions,  such  as  have  lately  agitated  Mexico.  It 
is  but  ordinary  justice  to  a  set  of  individuals  who  have  been  so 
much  reviled  as  the  friends  of  a  central  form  of  government,  to 
state  fairly  even  the  possible  advantages  of  their  favorite  system, 
and  to  give  them  the  benefit  of  the  inference  to  be  drawn  fix>m 
the  actual  failure  of  the  Federal  Constitution. 

After  all,  the  Constitution,  which  was  adopted  in  1824,  and 
which  has  continued  in  operation  ever  since,  is  in  many  par^ 
ticulars  but  nominally  federal.  The  essence  of  a  federal 
government  is  the  harmonious  and  distinct  action  of  the 
National  and  State  councils  in  their  respective  spb^es,  and  an 
exact  specification,  as  far  as  is  practicable,  of  the  powers  dele- 
gated ^to  the  Government  of  the   Union.     Whatever  is  [not 


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1830.]  PolUics.of  Mexico.  12S 

expreaslj  given  or  necessarily  implied  is  resenred.  These 
distinctions  the  Mexican  legislators  have  failed  to  realize,  and 
an  awkward  interference  of  the  two  powers,  wholly  inomsistent 
with  our  ideas  of  a  Federal  Union,  has  ensued.  We  have  not 
time  to  do  more  than  cursorily  refer  to  them  now.  In  1827 
and,  for  aught  we  know,  at  this  day,  several  if  not  a  majority 
of  the  Governors  of  the  States  were  military  officers  of  the 
Federation  holding  their  commissions,  and  receiving  their  pay 
from  the  Grovemment  of  the  Union.  The  troops  of  the  Union 
are  under  their  command  whilst  on  duty  in  the  States,  and  a 
military  staff  of  a  duplicate  character  is  constantly  in  attendance 
to  execute  the  various  duties  of  the  ill*-defined  office.-^The 
Governors  of  the  States,  even  when  having  no  official  connex* 
ion  with  the  general  Government,  are  liable  to  impeachment 
at  the  suggestion  of  either  House  of  Congress  for  almost  every 
official  misdemeanor,  and  particularly  for  infractions  of  the 
Constitution  by  the  publication  of  laws  contrary  to  the  general 
laws  of  the  Union  and  to  the  constitutional  orders  of  the  Presi- 
dent ;  and  if  an  impeachment  be  determined  on  by  the  requisite 
majority  of  the  Chamber  where  tlie  accusation  is  made,  the 
person  charged  is  ipso  facto  suspended  from  his  employment 
and  placed  at  the  disposal  of  the  competent  tribunal.  That 
^ibunal  is  the  FederEiI  Judiciary,  organized  under  the  name 
of  the  H%h  Court  of  Justice,  by  whose  decision  a  State 
Oovemor  may  be  punished  in  any  manner  and  to  any  extent. 
The  power  of  deciding  upon  the  constitutionality  of  a  State 
law  is  vested  in  Congress,  imd  no  right  to  oontrol  that  body  in 
the  course  of  legislation  exists  in  any  branch  of  die  Government. 
The  States  are  encouraged  to  interfere  in  the  National  legisla- 
tion by  an  express  provision  in  the  Constitution  authorizing 
them  to  suggest  to  C<H)gress  such  enactments  as  they  may  think 
worthy  of  adoption.  This  privilege  has  not  been  thrown  away, 
and  to  one  accustomed,  as  every  citizen  of  tliis  country  is,  to 
regard  an  interference  of  the  State  LiCgislatures  as  an  imperti- 
nence, and  any  the  least  assumption  on  the  part  of  the  National 
Grovernment  as  a  usurpation,  the  legislative  records  of  Mexico 
will  present  much  that  is  novel  and  surprising.  The  separate 
jurisdiction' and  powers  of  the  two  great  branches  of  the  Fede- 
ration seem  to  have  been  beyond  the  comprehension  of  those 
who  framed  the  Constitution  in  the  first  instance,  or  those  who 
have  administered  it  since.  Two  instances  of  this  confusion  of 
legislation  are  recorded,  and  may  be  referred  to  as  strikingly 


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124  Politics  of  Mexico.  [July, 

illustrative  of  the  new  character  of  the  Government  of  Mexico. 
In  the  spring  of  1827,  at  the  time  of  the  commencement  of 
the  excitement  agabst  the  Spanish  residents,  and  soon  after 
Mr.  Esteva  who  had  been  recently  appointed  by  the  President 
to  the  Commissariat  at  Vera  Cruz  was  ordered  by  the  Legislature 
of  that  State  to  return  to  the  capital  at  twenty-fom-  hours* 
notice,  the  Secretary  of  Foreign  Afiairs  addressed  a  letter  to 
the  Congress  of  Vera  Cruz  making  inquiries  with  regard  to 
some  supposed  disturbances  within  that  State.  He  was  answer- 
ed that  perfect  tranquillity  existed.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
weeks,  the  Grovernor  of  Vera  Cruz  f(Mr  the  attainment  of  an 
object  of  local  interest,  or  in  consequence  of  some  apprehended 
disturbances,  called  the  Legislature  together  in  extraordinary 
session.  No  sooner  had  they  met,  than  the  Cabinet  at  Mexico 
took  the  alarm,  and  the  Secretary  again  wrote  to  the  Congress 
at  Jalapa,  indignantly  remonstrating  at  what  he  called  the 
disingenuousness  of  their  conduct,  and  inquiring  why  an  extra- 
ordinary session  was  requisite  at  a  time,  when,  as  they  said,  the 
public  tranquillity  was  undisturbed.  Accidentally  the  Legisla- 
ture found  spirit  enough  to  resent  the  tone  in  which  this  inquiry 
was  made,  and  after  having  the  subject  under  discussion  for 
several  days,  determined  on  a  proper  and  laconic  reply.  The 
Governor  was  instructed  to  remind  the  Secretary  that  the  con- 
vocation of  the  Legislature  at  an  unusual  season  might  be  a 
measure  as  well  of  precaution  as  of  necessity,  that  it  might  be 
neither,  but  merely  expedient  for  the  promotion  of  local  inter- 
ests, and  that  when  in  the  opinion  of  the  Legislature  it  was 
proper  to  communicate  information  to  the  General  Government, 
it  should  not  be  withheld.  Another  equally  characteristic  inci- 
dent recently  occurred.  In  the  spring  of  1829,  on  the  downfal 
of  Pedraza  and  forcible  elevation  of  Greneral  Guerrero  to  the 
Presidency,  Mr.  Lorenzo  de  Zavala,  then  Governor  of  the 
State  of  Mexico,  and  a  warm  personal  and  political  friend  of 
the  new  President,  was  appointed  Secretary  of  the  Treasury. 
Unwilling  to  resign  the  political  influence  he  was  enabled  to 
exercise  as  Governor,  he  and  his  friends  procured  the  passage 
of  a  law,  by  which  he  was  permitted  to  hold  both  offices,  though 
he  was  to  perform  only  the  active  duties  of  the  Treasury  de- 
partment. In  the  course  of  a  few  months,  in  consequence  of 
one  of  the  sudden  and  inexplicable  changes  to  which  the 
ipoliticd  atmosphere  of  Mexico  is  liable,  this  permission  was 
unexpectedly  revoked,  and  Mr.  Zavala's  opponents  discovered 


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1630.]  Politics  of  MUpoieo.  125 

that  the  offices  were-  incompatible.  Rejoiced  most  probably 
at  an  opportunity  of  extricaUng  himself  from  the  responsibili^ 
ties  and  embarrassments  to  which  the  incurable  disorder  of 
the  finances  of  the  Union  exposed  him,  he  without  hesitation 
resigned  his  Secretaryship,  and  announced  his  intention  to  re- 
sume his  State  duties.  Unluckily,  however,  in  his  absence  the- 
political  party  to  which  he  was  attached  had  dwbdled  into  a 
minori^,  and  his  enemies,  anxious  to  preserve  the  ascendency 
which  his  absence  had  enabled  them  to  secure,  were  driven  to 
the  necessity  of  devising  some  plan  by  which  he  could  be 
prevented  from  re^ummg  the  authority  of  Governor.  The 
Legislature  then  in  session  at  Tlalpam,  the  capital  of  the  State 
of  Mexico,  by  a  considerable  majority  passed  a  resolution 
declarmg,  that  though  the  absolute  right  of  Mr.  Zavala  to  resume 
his  office  was  unquestioned,  yet  that  his  acts,  whilst  Secretary 
of  the  Treasury  htfd  been  of  such  a  nature  as  to  work  for  the 
present  a  mord  incapacity  for  the  performance  of  his  duty  as 
Governor, — ^that  he  was  clearly  entided  to  the  honor  and 
emolument  of  the  station,  and  was  only  debarred  from  the 
actual  administration.  To  this  decision  Mr.  Zavala  found  it 
expedient  to  submit,  an4  in  this  equivocal  situation  he  was 
obliged  to  continue,  until  a  new  revolution  might  give  him  an 
opportunity  of  again  entering  on  public  life. 

Such  are  a  few  of  the  most  notable  instances  of  the  confusion 
and  inconsistency  to  which  we  have  referred.  Many  others 
might  be  found,  and  all  illustrate  the  truth  of  the  opinion,  that 
to  denommate  the  Government  of  Mexico  Federal  Republican, 
in  the  sense  we  give  to  those  epithets,  is  an  error  of  language ; 
and  that  whatever  may  be  its  name  and  form,  and  however 
great  the  merit  of  its  founders,  it  possesses  many  of  the  charac- 
teristics of  centralism  or  real  consolidation. 

We  have  entered  on  these  detailed  observations  on  the  true 
character  of  the  Mexican  Constitution,  with  a  wish  to  enable 
our  fellow-citizens  accurately  to  understand  the  analogy  which 
really  exists  between  our  institutions  and  theirs,  and  properly 
to  estimate  the  conduct  and  opinions  of  the  two  political  parties 
which  originally  were  formed.  Before  the  year  1824,  these 
theoretical  opinions  were  their  distinctive  attributes,  and  in  fact 
as  in  name  they  were  Centralists  and  FederaUsts.  By  the 
adoption  of  (he  present  Constitution,  and  the  consequent  triumph 
of  the  Federalists,  the  Central  party  lost  in  a  great  measure 
its  importance,  and  such  of  its  leaders  as  were  still  anxious  to 


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136  PoHUcs  of  Mexico*^  [July, 

maiiitam  its  existence,  were  compelled  to  look  out  for  new 
prmciples,  by  which  it  was  to  be  sustained.  These  the  course 
of  political  events  soon  enabled  them  to  find. 

The  parties  of  Mexico  have  been  compared  to  the  Federalists 
and  Democrats  of  the  United  States.  This  comparison  is  ui  most 
respects  as  unfair  as  the  others  to  which  we  have  had  occasicMi 
to  refer.  In  some  particulars  only  diere  may  be  detected  a 
slight  shade  of  resemblance.  Federalist  and  Democrat,  even 
with  us,  are  words  which  convey  no  adequate  idea  of  the  o{Mn- 
ions,  which  those  who  invented  the  names  severally  professed. 
Each  party  was  in  fact  composed  of  individuals  diflfermg  on 
many  pomts,  and  often  directly  agreeing  upon  none.  Mr. 
Madison  was  a  Federalist  in  1787,  and  without  changing  any 
one  of  his  polidcal  opinions  became  a  Democrat  in  1798. 
Fragments  of  sects  coalesced,  wid  by  means  of  such  combina- 
tions, the  many-colored  being,  called  a  party,  came  into  exbtence. 
In  its  formation  we  can  trace  the  action  of  no  peculiar  and 
important  principle,  and  in  the  result  we  see  nothing  but  the 
effect  of  the  strong  necessity  of  union  in  order  to  secure  influ- 
ence, and  of  the  sacrifice  of  unimportant  subjects  of  difference 
of  opmion.  In  the  want  of  any  well-setded  principle  in  their 
origin,  and  in  this  combination  of  heterogeneous  materials,  there 
was  a  resemblance  between  the  parties  of  the  two  Republics.  In 
(Mie  material  point,  however,  there  was  a  total  dissimilarity.  *  At 
the  end  of  our  revolutionary  war  we  had  but  few  if  any  native 
citizens  of  Great  Britain  resident  amongst  us,  and  claiming  an 
equality  of  privilege  in  aH  respects  with  Americans.  In  Mexi- 
co the  o]d  Spaniards  formed  an  integral  and  most  important 
portion  of  dile  population.  They  were  important  fi'om  their 
numbers,  their  inteOigence  and  their  wealth.  They  had  resided 
in  the  colonies  for  a  long  period  of  time,  and  had  formed  con- 
nexions which  firmfy  bound  them  to  the  soil.  By  the  pacific 
termination  of  the  revolution,  and  the  stipulations  made  between 
the  contending  parties,  the  rights  of  the  Spanish  residents  had 
been  definitively  secured,  and  at  the  time  die  new  Government 
went  into  operation,  they  were  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  every 
right  and  privilege  belonging  to  native  citizens.  TOiey  were 
eligible  to  almost  every  office  under  the  Constitution,  and  no 
distinction  was  recognized  by  the  laws  which  affected  them 
injuriously.  Thus  situated  and  protected,  it  might  be  supposed 
their  station  in  the  community  could  have  been  highly  enviable. 
But  notwithstanding  appearances,  and  all  the  legislative  barriers 


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1830.]  PolUks  of  Msxico.  127 

by  which  they  were  protected,  there  was  an  abundaiit  source  of 
anxiety  and  apprehension  open  to  them  in  the  known  jealousy 
and  aversion  of  die  great  mass  of  the  people.  They  were  too 
well  aware  of  the  existence  and  of  the  causes  of  animosity  not 
to  be  anxious  to  devise  means  for  their  own  protection,  and  with 
this  object  they  virere  naturally  led  to  mingle  in  the  incipient 
political  strife,  and  to  look  for  the  safest  and  most  natural  associ- 
ates. That  they  had  uherior  and  less  pure  objects  in  view 
originally,  we  do  not  think  it  reasonable,  without  stronger  evi- 
dence than  has  as  yet  been  produced,  to  believe.  However 
that  may  be,  the  Spanish  interest  formed  an  important  material 
in  the  organization  of  parties.  To  thb  body  of  men,  were 
naturally  joined  the  clergy,  both  regular  and  secular,  among  the 
latter  of  whom  particularly  were  many  individuals  of  pure,  and 
what  is  more  rare  in  Mexico,  of  unsuspected  patriotism ;  the 
landholders  and  other  men  of  wealth  and  property,  who  saw 
die  principle  of  danger  in. the  superiority  of  their  pecuniary 
resources,  and  in  die  insatiable  rapacity  of  those  by  whom  they 
were  surrounded ;  the  friends  of  a  Central  system ;  and  we  may 
add,  ar  great  body  of  disinterested  citizens,  who  were -actuated 
by  the  most  honorable  motives,  and  who  conscientiously  believed 
the  safely  of  the  infant  Republic  to  depend  on  the  participadon 
of  some  of  their  enlightened  political  associates,  and  on  the 
adoption  of  a  moderate  and  conciliating  policy. — The  composi- 
tion of  the  rival  party,  unjustly  compared  to  the  Democracy  of 
the  United  States,  was  of  a  very  varied  character.  There 
were  in  it,  we  can  easily  believe,  some  individuals  of  honorable 
and  consistent  patriotism,  men  who  had  been  severely  tried  in 
the  school  of  the  revolution,  and  who  were  ardently  attached  to 
republican  institutions ;  amongst  these  were  most  of  those  who 
m  the  CiXQStitxient  Congress  bad  warmly  and  successfully  advo- 
cated the  adoption  of  die  Federal  Constitution.  These  were 
honest  politicians  practically  and  in  theory.  The  remaining 
components  of  this  ultra-liberal  party  were  less  free  from  the 
suspicion  c^  impure  motives.  The  remnant  of  the  faction 
which  had  persisted  in  its  devotion  to  the  late  Emperor  Iturbide, 
and  who,  when  their  idol  was  in  prosperity  had  always  regarded 
those  who  now  appeared  among  the  leaders  of  die  Spanidi 
party,  (we  use  the  name  for  want  of  a  better,)  as  Ins  most 
determined  foes,  joined  the  new  sect,  and  seemed  anxious  to 
atone  for  their  former  sins  by  the  profession  of  the  most  exalted 
patriotism*    The  great  body  of  the  officers  of  the  army,  and 


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128  Politics  of  Mexico.  [July, 

that  still  more  numerous  class  of  necessitous  political  adventu- 
rers, which  is  the  natural  offspring  of  a  revolution,  which  is 
scarcely  perceptible  whilst  the  waters  are  in  agitation,  but  which 
rises  m  scum  to  the  surface  as  soon  as  they  become  tranquil, 
also  attached  themselves  to  it.  Little  penetration  is  requbite 
to  foresee  which  of  parties  so  organized  would  be  numerically 
most  powerful,  and  which  in  the  natural  course  of  events  would 
triumph.     Independently,  however,  of  the  inherent  sources  of 

Eower,  which  the  latter  of  these  political  castes  enjoyed,  they 
ad  the  mestimable  advantage  which  deep-rooted  pc^ular  preju- 
dice gave  them,  and  the  auxiliary  of  a  popular  watchword,  by 
means  of  which  subsiding  passion  might  at  any  moment  be  re- 
newed. ^  Exile  to  the  Gcudiupines^  was  written  in  bright  letters 
on  their  standard,  and  under  a  banner  so  inscribed  diere  was 
no  difficulty  In  always  rallying  an  efficient  force.  So  early  as 
1824,  the  expatriation  of  the  European  residents  was  made 
the  pretext  of  rebellion  by  General  Lobato,  whose  insurrection- 
ary talents  we  shall  hereafter  again  have  occasi(Mi  to  commemo- 
rate, and  from  that  time  to  the  present  it  has  been  the  prolific 
theme  of  all  the  radical  politicians  of  the  Republic. 

At  the  first  election  of  the  chief  magistrate,  after  the  adoption 
of  the  Constitution,  the  contest  was  between  two  distinguished 
revolutionary  patriots,  each  representing,  in  a  measure,  one  of 
the  parties  we  have  mentioned.  Generals  Nicolas  Bravo  and 
Guadalupe  Victoria.  The  latter  was  duly  elected  President, 
and  the  former  Vice-President.  Though  in  the  decision  of  this 
first  election,  the  political  distiuctions  wer^  not  perfectly  defined, 
and  other  interests  were  involved,  there  was  enough  party  feeling 
mingled  in  the  contest,  to  give  to  it  a  high  degree  of  importance. 
On  entering  on  his  official  career.  General  Victoria,  it  is  be- 
lieved, found  himself  placed  in  a  situation  of  great  embsurrass- 
ment  and  perplexity.  His  responsibilities  were  very  great. 
With  litde  or  no  political  experience,  he  found  himself  at  the 
head  of  an  untried  government,  the  success  of  which  depended 
wholly  on  the  vigor  and  prudence  of  hi^^'administration.  An 
enemy  of  the  most  determbed  character  was  without,  anxiously 
waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  attempt  reconquest.  Relations 
with  foreign  nations  were  not  definitively  setded.  Withia,  politi- 
cal animosity  and  party  exasperation  were  wcxrking  actively. 
Every  thbg  seemed  to  obstruct  the  easy  and  successful  progress 
of  the  Cabinet.  Two  courses  of  policy  were  presented  to  the 
new  President,  between  which  it  was  necessary  for  him  to  decide. 


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1830.]  Foliite$  of  Mexico.  129 

The  one  was,  to  act  decidedly  with  one  of  the  contending  parties, 
and  by  giving  to  the  object  of  his  preference  all  the  influence 
of  the  Grovernment,  to  secure  to  it  a  permanent  ascendency. 
The  odier,  to  attempt  the  difficult  task  of  conciliation,  and  by 
means  of  his  great  personal  popularity^  and  an  impartial  dis- 
tribution of-  official  favors,  to  assuage,  existing  animosity  and 
reconcile  political  opponents.  Which  of  them,  in  a  community 
constituted  like  Mexico,  would  have  been  the  most  politic  and 
ultimately  beneficial  course,  it  is  useless  even  to  conjecture. 
Victoria  seems  not  to  have  heatated  to  adopt  the  policy  of  con- 
ciliation, and  by  doing  so  be  evinced  the  goocbess  ef  his  heart 
and  the  purity  of  his  motives.  He  formed  his  first  and  subse- 
quent cabinets  of  individuals  of  both  parties,  and,  generally,  in 
die  distribution  of  office,  seemed  to  be  directed  by  no  wish,  other 
than  to  avoid  committing  himself  with  either.  He  resolutely 
abstained  from  all  participation  in  political  consultations,  and  so 
determined  was  he  in  his  impartiality,  as  to  give  an  almost 
ludicrous  air  to  his  caution  and  reserve.^  Unhappily,  this 
anxiety  to  be  uncommitted,  in  the  mind  of  an  inexperienced 
politician,  is  too  apt  to  degenerate  bto  indecision,  if  not  abso- 
lute imbecility  j  and  while  he  was  resolutely  determined  to  grant 
no  more  favors  to  one  than  to  the  oAiev  olass  of  individuals, 
Victoria  seemed  to  want  sufficient  energy  of  character  to  check 
the  excesses  of  either.  This  indecision  and  want  of  moral 
efficiency  on  the  part  of  the  executive,  though  resulting  from 
a  good  motive,  was  destined  to  be  the  cause  of  a  series  of 
misfortunes  to  the  Republic. 

In  1825,  the  two  political  Mexican  sects  acquired  consis- 
tency and  a  specific  character,  by  their  connexion  with  masonic 
associations.  Of  the  distinction  between  the  two  sects  of 
masons,  we  are  wholly  ignorant,  and  can  therefore  account  for 
their  adoption  by  the  two  political  factions  in  no  other  way  than 
by  the  natural  supposition,  that  they  were  resorted  to  as  afiford- 
ing  a  convenient  mode  of  secret  consultation  and  efficient  co- 
operation. Be  the  distinctive  masonic  principles  what  they  may, 
the  members  of  the  Scotch  and  York  lodges  have  become  in 
Mexico  identified  with  zealots  of  the  two  orders,  and  Escoces 
and    Yorkino   are   terms  of   political  distinction,   which   are 

*  The  political  wags  of  Mexico  used  to  say  of  President  Victoria, 
that,  in  his  anxiety  to  avoid  the  appearance'  of  partiality  to  either  party, 
when  he  rode  in  the  Alameda,  hjS  made  it  a  point  always  to  sit  in  the 
middle  of  his  coach. 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  17 


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130  Politics  of  Mexico.  [Juty, 

perfectly  well  understood,  and,  on  that  account,  terms  of  great 
convenience.  The  Scotch  lodge  appears  lo  have  been  insti- 
tuted in  Mexico  at  a  much  earlier  date  than  its  rival.  The 
first  York  lodge  was  organized  in  Mexico  in  1825.  We  wish 
it  lo  be  understood,  that  we  are  neither  masons  nor  anti-masons. 
We  neither  beheve  masonry  to  be  coeval  with  the  world  nor 
coincident  with  all  the  good  that  has  been  done  in  it,  nor 
do  we  believe  masonry  to  be  of  satanic  origin,  and  wholly 
inconsistent  with  the  spirit  of  our  free  institutions ;  but,  per- 
verted, as  we  believe  it  to  have  been  in  Mexico,  from  its 
proper  objects  and  genuine  principles,  and  converted  into  an 
engine  of  politica]  warfare,  we  most  sincerely  deplore  its 
encouragement  in  any  country.  In  a  community  oppressed  by 
despotism,  and  struggling  for  liberty,  secret  associations  may 
be  convenient  as  affording  secure  means  of  harmonious  action ; 
but  in  a  country  swayed  by  no  tyranny,  and  liable  to  no 
oppression,  except  what  party  animosity  affords,  they  may  be 
viewed  as  so  many  nurseries  of  political  rancor  and  factious 
malignity.  In  Mexico  these  affiliated  juntas  soon  organized  an 
effectual  correspondence,  and  in  the  midnight  conclaves  of  the 
masonic  societies,  if  rumor  is  to  be  credited,  the  various  plans 
and  modes  of  policy  were  devised,  which  were  to  be  ultimately 
suggested  and  discussed  in  the  councils  of  the  nation.  All  the 
active  politicians  were  not,  however,  actually  attached  by  regu- 
lar initiation  to  the  lodges ;  but  so  general  was  the  adoption  of 
one  or  the  other  of  the  societies  by  those  who  were  prominent 
in  the  career  of  domestic  politics,  that  the  appellation  became 
sufficiently  distinctive,  and  though  all  the  Liberal  party  (to  use 
their  own  language)  were  not  technically  Yorkinos,  nor  all  the 
Spanish  party  Escoceses,  yet  every  politician,  so  far  as  the  politi- 
cal distinction  went,  was  either  Yorkino  or  Escoces.  In  point 
of  talent  and  moral  vigor,  the  Escoces  party  has  always  had  a 
decided  advantage.  In  its  ranks  were  found,  without  exception, 
all  the  Spanish  residents,  among  whom  were  many  individuals 
distinguished  for  their  high  intellectual  culture  and  accomplished 
education.  To  these  may  be  added  a  number  of  Mexicans, 
who,  in  the  course  of  the  revolution,  and  particularly  during 
tfie  existence  of  the  Cortes,  had  travelled  abroad,  and  visited 
not  only  the  mother  country,  but  England  and  France.  To 
most  of  these  individuals,  many  of  whom  have  filled  the  most 
elevated  offices  of  the  republic,  we  most  readily  pay  the  just 
tribute  of  unqualified  respect.    We  believe  them  to  be  the  true 


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1830.]  Politics  of  Mexico.  131 

patriots  of  Mexico,  actuated  by  pure  motives,  and  aided  by- 
more  experience  and  practical  iniormavlon  than  many  of  then: 
fellow-citizens  can  pretend  to.  Numerically,  as  we  have  be- 
fore observed,  the  Yorkino  party  has  been,  and  so  long  as  its 
unity  is  preserved,  will  continue  to  be,  the  stronger,  and  it  is  to 
be  peculiarly  regretted  that  among  those  into  whose  hands  the 
Government  is  most  likely  to  fall,  there  should  be  less  enlight- 
ened intelligence,  and,  as  we  think  has  been  made  apparent  in 
the  persecution  of  tlie  Spaniards,  less  moral  rectitude  than 
among  those  who  form  the  minority. 

From  the  time  of  the  presidential  election  to  the  end  of  the 
year  1826,  there  was  profound  tranquillity  m  the  Republic. 
The  conciliatory  policy  of  the  executifre  seemed  to  answer  all 
its  ends,  the  foreign  relations  of  the  country  were  most  favora- 
ble, the  national  credit  was  high,  and  the  payments  of  interest 
on  the  loans  were  regularly  made ;  a  vast  amount  of  capital 
had  been  invested  by  foreigners  in  the  mines,  and  by  means  of 
the  permanent  interest  thus  created  in  the  preservation  of  tran- 
quillity, the  most  sanguine  anticipations  of  national  prosperity 
were  not  unreasonably  entertained.  In  the  Cabinet  at  Mexico, 
it  was  known  that  decided  differences  of  opinion  had  existed. 
The  interests  and  principles  of  the  Escoces  party  were  sus- 
tained by  a  decided  majority  in  the  Senate,  and  a  small  but 
equally  effective  one  in  the  House  of  Representatives ;  whilst 
their  opponents  by  mdefatigable  exertions,  the  aid  of  the  press, 
and  a  dexterous  use  of  circumstances,  showed  every  disposi- 
tion to  contest  their  ascendency  in  the  admmistration  of  affairs. 
Still,  strong  as  the  symptoms  of  approaching  disorder  were, 
there  was  so  much  confidence  reposed  in  the  President,  and 
so  decided  a  disposition  to  yield  to  his  personal  influence,  that 
but  for  a  series  of  unforeseen  accidents,  the  tranquillity  of  the 
nation,  though  from  a  want  of  essential  elements  it  could  not 
have  been  permanent,  might  have  been  much  longer  continued. 
In  the  early  part  of  January,  1827,  a  Dieguino  monk,  of  the 
name  of  Arenas,  was  arrested  in  the  capital  on  a  charge  of 
being  implicated  in  a  treasonable  conspiracy  to  overthrow  the 
Government  and  restore  the  dynasty  of  the  Bourbons.  What 
evidence  was  produced  against  this  man,  in  relation  to  whom 
there  was  a  division  of  opinion  as  to  his  sanity,  we  do  not  know, 
having  never  seen  any  specific  statement  of  the  charges  against 
him,  or  even  a  general  report  of  his  trial.  The  narrative  of 
the  plot,  as  given  by  the  Yorkmo  party  on  hb  arrest,  carried 


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132  Politics  of  Mexico.  [July* 

absurdity  on  its  face,  and  was  conclusive  of  one  of  two  things, 
either  that  the  whole  matter  had  been  got  up  to  promote  a 
political  end,  or  that  Arenas  had  been  selected  as  weak  enough 
to  allow  himself  by  artful  suggestions  to  be  involved  in  a  palpa- 
bly impracticable  and  senseless  plot  against  the  Government. 
Numerous  arrests  were  made  of  various  insignificant  priests 
and  subordinate  military  oifficers,  and  Arenas,  after  lingering 
through  all  the  forms  and  delays  of  Mexican  criminal  judicature, 
was,  on  the  second  day  of  June,  1827,  shot  by  order  of  a  mili- 
tary commission  at  the  palace  of  Chapoltepec.  A  few  months 
previous,  additional  cause  of  alarm  and  distrust  had  been  given 
by  the  sudden  arrest  of  two  distinguished  Mexican  oflBcers, 
Generals  Negrete  and  ^chavarri,  on  a  charge  of  a  similar 
kind.  These  two  individuals,  both  of  whom  had  been  officers 
in  the  revolutionary  service,  in  addition  to  the  -specific  ofience 
for  which  they  were  arrested,  had  the  indelible  stain  of  Euro- 
pean nativity,  which  rendered  them  at  once  ready  objects  of 
suspicion,  and  most  acceptable  offerings  to  public  prejudice. 
They  were  arrested  at  midnight  in  their  houses,  and  taken 
fi:om  the  capital  to  prison,  one  in  the  castle  of  Perote,  the  other 
at  Acapulco.  After  a  long  judicial  investigation,  of  &e  details 
of  which  the  public  learned  but  little,  one,  if  not  both,  was  sen- 
tenced to  permanent  exile,  and  is  now  residing  in  this  country. 
In  relation  to  the  merits  of  this  aUeged  conspiracy,  we  speak 
with  great  diffidence,  for  the  simple  reason  that  we  are  noticing 
subjects  of  which  we  are  in  great  measure  necessarily  ignorant, 
but  from  what  we  do  know,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying, 
that  the  extent  and  importance  of  the  plot  of  the  Padre  Arenas 
and  his  followers  were  greatly  exaggerated.  Had  it  been  as 
serious  as  was  at  first  supposed,  others  beside  a  half-witted 
priest  would  have  been  detected  and  punished,  and  a  detailed 
history  of  so  foul  a  conspiracy,  involving,  as  it  would  have 
done,  a  large  and  detested  portion  of  the  community,  must  have 
been  given  to  the  world. 

The  consequences  of  these  arrests,  and  of  the  dark  suspi- 
cions to  which  they  gave  rise,  may  easily  be  conceived.  A 
new  impulse  was  given  to  the  popular  hostility  towards  the  Eu- 
ropean residents,  and  a^  great  accession  of  strength  resulted  to 
the  Anti-Spanish  party.  Exile  and  confiscation  were  talked 
of  without  reserve ;  placards  of  the  most  inflammatory  charac- 
ter were  circulated ;  memorials  from  the  Yorkino  Legislatures 
were  daily  sent  to  Congress,  urging  that  body  to  act ;  the  elec- 


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1830.J  Politics  of  Mexico.  133 

tions  had  been  generally  strongly  influenced,  and  it  was  soon 
apparent  that  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  stem  the  torrent 
of  prejudice  and  persecution.  The  President  himself  at  last 
yielded,  and  a  succession  of  legislative  measures  were  adopted 
by  Congress,  the  result  of  which  has  been  the  entire  expatria- 
tion of  the  Spanish  residents.  It  commenced  m  1827,  by  the 
publication  oi  a  law  declaring  all  natives  ineligible  to  office, 
and  ended  in  the  passage  of  a  law  by  considerable  majorities 
in  both  houses,  directing  the  President  immediately  to  give 
passpcxts  to  all  the  Spaniards  remaining  in  the  Republic. 

We  have  already  had  occasion  to  mention  the  conduct  of 
Mexico  towards  Ae  European  residents,  and  now  recur  to  it 
merely  to  state  the  precise  contract  which  the  legislators  of  the 
new  community  have  found  it  expedient  to  violate,  and  the 
prejudicial  consequences  which  have  ensued.  When  Iturbide 
first  raised  the  flag  of  opposition  to  the  Viceroy,  he  found  it 
necessarj"  to  pursue  in  the  outset,  the  policy  of  conciliation  and 
compromise.  He  had  been  deputed  as  w^  against  the  Con- 
stitutionalists as  against  the  Republican  Insurgents,  and  it  be- 
came necessary  for  him  in  order  to  sustain  himself,  to  devise 
some  plan  by  which  these  two  classes  should  be  united  and 
their  interests  identified.  Tlie  fruit  of  his  reflection  was  the 
plan  of  Iguala.  Its  provisions,  as  far  as  they  afiect  the  privi- 
leges of  die  Spaniards,  are  perfectly  distinct.  It  provides  for 
the  maintenance  of  the  religion  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  for 
the  union  of  the  Creoles  and  Spaniards,  for  the  independence 
of  Mexico,  for  the  privileges  and  immunities  of  the  clergy, 
and  for  the  protection  of  the  persons  and  property  of  the  citi- 
zens. It  declares,  finally,  all  the  inhabitants  of  New-Spain, 
without  distmction  of  persons,  Europeans,  Afiricans  and  Indians, 
and  their  descendants,  to  be  citizens,  and  to  be  eligible  to  all 
offices  according  to  their  merits  and  virtues.  This  plan,  ob- 
jectionable as  it  was  in  some  of  its  features  m  the  eyes  of  the 
Republicans,  was  acceded  to  by  all,  and  must  be  consideved 
as  a  solemn  national  compact,  vesting  certain  rights  in  all  who 
were  parties  to  it.  The  treaty  of  Cordova  between  Iturbide  and 
OTDonoju  followed.  In  all  die  provisional  governments,  which 
were  formed  in  the  interval  between  the  treaty  of  Iguala  and 
the  adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution,  there  was  the  same 
indiscriminate  recognition  of  the  rights  of  all  the  residents. 
Under  the  Constitution  of  1824,  the  privileges  of  the  Spanish 
citizens  were  more  positively  ascertamed.  They  were  declared 


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134  Politics  of  Mexico.  [July, 

citizens ;  they  were  made  eligible  to  every  office  except  to  the 
high  executive  stations  and  to  the  cabmet  Secretaryships;  and 
so  certain  did  the  framers  of  the  Constitution  wish  to  make 
their  security,  that  among  those  excepted  from  the  disabilities 
of  aliens,  natives  of  Spain  resident  in  Mexico  are  expressly 
mentioned.  In  1826  and  1827,  there  was  more  than  one 
member  of  Congress  who  was  a  Spaniard  by  birth.  In  addi- 
tion to  these  protections  expressly  provided  for  them,  their  prop- 
erty and  persons  were  secured  by  the  sections  of  the  Constitu- 
tion, prohibiting  the  confiscation  of  goods,  or  ex  post  facto  laws, 
[leyes  retroactivas.  Art.  147,  148.) 

In  violation  of  all  these  solemn  contracts,  the  majority  in 
Mexico  have  determined,  and  apparently  without  compunction, 
to  sacrifice  the  unfortunate,  and  we  cannot  but  think,  unof- 
fending Spaniards.  We  have  said  that  it  is  matter  of  regret, 
that  the  Spanish  residents  had  not  left  the  country  during  the 
revolution,  or  as  soon  as  its  result  was  ascertained.  Had  they 
then  been  forcibly  exiled,  a  sufficient  excuse  would  have  been 
found  in  the  necessary  excitement  of  the  times,  and  in  the  sense 
of  severe  oppression  to  which  the  Creoles  were  immediately 
liable.  But  it  is  to  the  iniquity  of  the  sacrifice  of  rights  delib- 
erately and  unequivocally  guaranteed,  that  our  censure  relates. 
State  necessity,  we  have  been  often  told,  is  the  t3rrant's  plea ; 
but  even  the  tyrant,  before  he  resorts  to  this,  his  worst  and 
weakest  apology,  usually  so  far  yields  to  public  opinion  as  to 
show  a  case  of  strong  necessity.  In  Mexico,  it  is  true,  there 
is  an  attempt  to  show  the  necessity  of  an  act  of  injustice  and 
confessed  infraction  of  law.  It  has  been  a  feeble  and  ineffec- 
tual attempt.  We  are,  say  the  advocates  of  proscription,  at 
war  with  Spain,  and  it  is  unsafe  to  allow  a  participation  of  the 
privileges  to  the  children  of  our  enemy,  who  must  still  have 
some  affection  to  their  parent.  Why  dien,  it  may  be  asked, 
were  they  ever  allowed  the  privilege,  of  which  you  seek  to 
deprive  them,  and  why,  if  it  is  said  there  was  a  necessity  of 
conciliation  at  Iguala,  was  an  express  recognition  inserted  in 
the  Constitution  ?  But  it  is  said,  they  are  plotting  against  the 
Government,  and  engaged  in  treasonable  correspondence  with 
the  mother  country.  The  answer  to  such  suggestions  is  obvious ; 
let  the  guilty  be  punished,  and  let  the  punishment  be  boldly 
vouched  as  the  just  retribution  of  an  offended  public.  Let  the 
severest  penalties  of  the  law  fall  on  the  heads  of  the  offenders, 
but  let  the  law  which  recognizes  privileges,  have  as  fair  a 
chance  as  that  which  prescribes  punishment. 


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1830.]  Polities  of  Mexico.  136 

The  impolicy  of  obliging  the  Spaniards  to  leave  the  country 
of  their  adoption,  has,  we  believe,  been  severely  felt.  In  con- 
sequence of  their  enterprise  and  wealth,  the  greater  portion  of 
the  commercial  business  of  the  country  had  fallen  into  their 
hands.  Their  credit  was  high,  and  so  great  was  the  available 
capital  which  they  controlled,  that  it  was  matter  of  great  con- 
venience, as  well  to  the  foreign  as  to  the  native  merchants,  to 
transact  business  with  them.  Their  perfect  integrity,  contrasted 
as  it  was  with  the  characteristic  dishonesty  of  the  Creole  traders, 
gave  a  degree  of  confidence  to  all  who  were  connected  with 
diem,  which  is  essential  to  mercantile  enterprise  and  success. 
The  wealth  and  character  of  the  Spanish  capitalists  contributed 
in  no  small  degree  to  the  credit  of  die  Government  abroad ;  for 
so  long  as  the  Spaniards  remained  in  the  country,  and  were 
interested  in  the  preservation  of  tranquillity,  and  in  the  successful 
result  of  the  political  experiment,  the  national  creditors  abroad 
felt  that  they  had  a  permanent  security ;  and  it  is  perhaps  not 
venturing  too  far  to  say,  that,  had  not  this  source  of  confidence 
been  cut  off,  even  though  there  had  been  irregularity  in  the 
payment  of  the  interest,  new  loans  might  have  been  negotiated. 
As  it  was,  the  first,  failure  of  Mexico  to  pay  the  interest  on  her 
foreign  debt,  was  contemporaneous  with  the  first  invasion  of  the 
rights  of  the  Spanish  merchants,  and  the  natural  result  of  this 
unfortunate  coincidence  was  the  immediate  s:jspension  of  all 
confidence  abroad,  and  the  fall  of  the  stock  even  below  the  low 
level  of  the  other  American  securities.  Since  the  departure  of 
the  only  capitalists  in  Mexico,  the  necessities  of  the  Government 
have  increased  as  theu-  sources  of  supply  have  diminished ;  no 
foreign  loans  can  be  negotiated,  commerce  has  declined,  and 
the  only  mode  of  borrowing  money  at  home  they  have  them- 
selves cut  oflT.  The  principal  source  of  revenue  has  always 
been  the  Custom-House,  and  since  the  decline  of  the  public 
credit,  tliis  dependence  has  also  in  great  measure  been  with- 
drawn. The  large  mercantile  establishments  of  the  Spanish 
merchants,  extending  over  tlie  whole  country,  and  able  by  theb 
wealth  to  establish  branches  both  on  the  coast  and  at  the  chief 
towns  in  the  mterior,  afforded  facilities  to  the  commercial  com- 
munities, which  were  most  sensibly  felt.  All  these  advantages, 
by  this  act  of  injustice,  and,  as  we  believe  is  now  admitted,  of 
impolicy,  have  been  lost. 

The  number  of  desterrados  was  very  great.     Neither  age 
nor  poverty  afforded  an  exemption,  the  law  bebg  enforced  ynih 


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136  Polities  of  Mexico.  [July, 

great  rigor,  and  the  shores  of  e^ery  neighboring  country  were 
strewed  with  the  broken  remnants  of  the  once  majestic  vessel 
of  the  Spanish  power  m  America.  Many  of  the  emigrants, 
on  their  arrival  in  the  United  States,  whither  a  large  majcnrity 
repaired,  as  to  the  nearest  place  of  refuge,  were  totally  desti- 
tute of  means  of  support.  In  New-Orleans,  scenes  of  most 
agonizbg  distress  were  exhibited,  and  to  such  an  extent  was  it 
carried,  that  but  for  the  benevolent  exertioDS  of  the  inhaUtants 
of  that  city,  many  of  these  unfortunate  exiles  would  have  per- 
ished from  want  and  exposure.  In  Mexico,  the  individual 
suffering  was  intense ;  wives  were  separated  from  their  husbands 
for  want  of  the  pecuniary  ability  to  accompany  them ;  fetbers 
were  torn  from  children  whom  diey  were  obliged  to  leave  with 
the  most  uncertain  means  of  support ;  the  humblest  arriero  in 
the  country,  dependent  Hex  actual  sustenance  on  his  peculiar 
labor,  had  to  yield  obedience  to  the  stem  mandate  of  the 
Government ;  and  the  poor  ballet-master,  who  had  be^  so  instru- 
mental in  a&rding  amusement  .to  the  ungrateful  legislators  of  the 
metropolis,  was  equally  affected  by  the  penalty  of  the  law,  with 
the  most  active  Escoces,  who  had  the  mbfortune  to  have  been 
born  in  Spab.  It  might  be  considered  as  a  comparison  almost 
ludicrous,  to  point  out  the  analogy  of  the  exile  of  the  Spaniards, 
to  the  standing  instances  of  impolicy,  the  revocation  of  the  edict 
of  Nantz,  und  the  expulsion  of  the  Moors  firom  Spain ;  but  in 
no  respect,  neither  in  folly,  importance,  nor  consequences,  as 
respects  Mexico,  are  they  very  dissimilar.  In  the  origin  of  all 
three  there  is  a  strong  resemblance.  Prejudice  and  fanaticism 
of  one  kind  or  another  were  the  impulses  in  all. 

It  is  to  the  excitement  occasioned  by  the  conduct  of  the 
Government  towards  the  Spaniards,  that  we  may  immediately 
ascribe  an  event  which  ensued,  and  which,  as  being  the  first  of 
a  series  of  rebellions  and  revolutions,  and  as  thence  becoming 
authority  for  what  followed,  every  friend  of  Mexico,  and  re- 
publican institutions,  must  cordially  regret  and  condemn.  We 
refer  to  the  abortive  plot,  which  was  developed  in  January, 
1828,  and  is  generally  denominated  the  rebellion  of  Otumba. 
At  the  head  of  it,  unhappily  for  himself,  his  party  and  bis 
country,  was  the  then  Vice-President  of  the  Republic,  Niccdas 
Bravo.  No  one,  who  has  made  the  revolutionary  history  of 
Mexico  a  subject  of  study,  can  fail  to  recollect  the  agency  of 
this  distinguished  individual  in  promoting  the  successful  result 
of  the  contest.    As  a  patriot.  General  Bravo  was  unsuspected. 


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1830.]  PoMci  of  Mexico.  137 

Jbaviog  proved  his  unwayering  fidelity  by  sufieriDgs  and  sacrifices 
of  more  than  ordinary  severity;  as  a  soldier,  he  was  distinguish- 
ed by  his  untiring  determination  and  romantic  courage,  and  as  a 
man,  he  had  acquired  a.  distinction  the  brightest  and  proudest 
a  military  man  can  secure,  of  never,  in  the  course  of  a  long 
aqd  feroqious  war,  in  which  the  courtesies  and  moderation  of 
civilized  conflict  were  by  common  consent  disregarded,  having 
been  betrayed  into  a  violent  or  vindictive  act,  or  having  un- 
necessarily stained  his  sword  with  blood.  His  father  and 
brothers: had  at  different  times  been  butchered,  by  order  of  the 
Viceroy ;  yet  with  all  these  inducements  to  the  indulgence  of 
revenge,  it  is  recorded  to  his  honor,  that  no  prisoner  of  war 
who  happened  to  fall  into  his  hapds,  ever  had  reason  to  com- 
plain. To  this  gentleness  of  disposition,  he  added  a  most 
faitliful  attachment  to  the  country  of  hb  birth,  and  a  rooted 
aversion  fi*om  the  control  of  the  mother  country.  He  was  one 
of  the  earliest  opponents  of  Iturbide,  and  was  an  active  member 
of  the  temporary  government,  which  was  organized  on  his  fall. 
.On  his  election  to  the  Vice-Presidency,  he  experienced  the 
usual  fate  of  the  second  officer  of  a  federal  government,  and 
ceased  to  act  a  prominent  part  in  public  affiiirs.  As  the  leader 
of  the  Escoces  party,  however,  he  continued  to  sustain  his  im- 
portanee,  and. to  him,  as  one  of  the  candidates  for  the  Presi- 
dency, public  attention  was  more  or  less  directed.  His  political 
sentiments,  in  most  respects,  were  ascertained,  and  it  was  per- 
fectly well  known,  that  to  the  prescriptive  and  harsh  policy  of 
the  yprkino  party  he  was  decidedly  opposed.  However  un- 
equivocally his  sentiments  on  this  subject  were  expressed,  there 
was  too  much  confidence  reposed  in  his  patriotism  and  charac- 
teristic moderation,  to  aUow  any  one  to  anticipate  so  mad  an 
act  of  opposition  to  the  constituted  authority,  as  the  revolt  of 
Otumba.  The  history  of  that  attempt  may  be  told  in  a  few 
words.  The  first  alarm  given  in  the  capital,  was  in  the  last 
week  in  December,  1827,  when  it  was  ascertained  that  a 
cokmel  in  the  army,  of  the  name  of  Montano,  had  raised  the 
standard  of  rebeUicxi,  and  published  an  inflammatory  manifesto 
at  Otumba,  a  small  village  near  Mexico.  At  first,  this  move- 
ment was  carelessly  regarded  by  the  Government ;  and  it  was 
not  until  it  was  ascertained  that  several  leaders  of  the  opposition 
party,  amcmg  others  General  Bravo,  had  secretly  and  mysteri- 
ously left  the  capita],  that  the  probable  danger  was  realised. 
The  President  immediately  issued  his  proclamation,  calling  on 

VOL.  XXXI. NO.  68.  18 


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138  Politics  of  Mexico.  [July, 

all  good  citizens  to  support  him  in  the  perfonnance  of  his 
constitutional  duties,  and  despatched  a  large  force  under  the 
command  of  General  Guerrero,  to  suppress  the  revolt.  Bravo, 
after  leaving  Mexico,  wandered  about  almost  unattended,  and 
unable  to  form  a  junction  with  the  other  conspirators,  which  he 
at  last,  and  with  difficulty,  eiSected.  Gmerrero  marched  im- 
mediately on  Tulancingo,  a  small  town  not  far  distant,  whither 
the  rebels  had  removed  their  head-quarters,  and  compelled 
them  to  surrender  without  a  blow.  To  the  decision  and  promp- 
titude of  the  Secretary  of  War,  Gomez  Pedraza,  aid  of  the 
leader  of  the  government  troops,  may  be  entirely  referred  the 
sudden  and  easy  suppression  of  this  ill-concerted  revolutionary 
movement;  for  had  enough  time  been  allowed  to  the  conspira- 
tors to  rally  their  friends  and  political  adherents  around  their 
standard,  in  the  excited  state  of  the  public  mind,  a  different 
result  might  have  occurred.  As  it  was,  numerous  individuals 
of  rank  and  personal  as  well  as  official  distmction,  were  on 
their  way  to  join  the  Vice-President,  and  it  is  impossible  to  say 
how  far  the  conspiracy  may  have  extended.  Among  these 
was  General  Barragan,  the  Grovemor  of  the  State  of  Vera 
Cruz,  who  was  arrested  and  sent  with  (Jeneral  Bravo  to  Mexico 
for  trial.  The  result  of  that  trial,  conducted  as  such  pro- 
cedures in  Mexico  usually  were,  without  publicity,  was  the 
conviction  of  Bravo  and  his  associates,  and  their  peirmanent 
exile  from  the  Republic. 

We  have  not  time  to  inquire  what  were  the  real  objects 
which  General  Bravo  and  his  followers  proposed  to  attain,  nor 
what  degree  of  credit  to  give  either  to  his  assertions  of  perfect 
purity  of  motive,  or  to  the  dark  accusations  of  his  political 
opponents.  The  plan  of  Montano  contained  a  specification  of 
various  supposed  grievances,  accompanied  with  an  imperative 
demand  on  the  executive  for  redress;  it  required  the  sup- 
pression of  secret  societies,  a  change  of  ministers,  the  delivery 
of  passports  to  Mr.  Poinsett,  our  minister  at  Mexico,  who  had 
become  obnoxious  to  the  party,  and  concluded  with  a  general 
requisition  that  the  provisions  of  the  Constitution  and  laws 
should  be  religiously  enforced.  Whether  there  were  ulterior 
objects  of  a  more  improper  character,  as  the  Yorkino  party 
have  vehemently  declared,  is  a  question  which,  for  all  the 
purposes  of  condemnation,  it  is  wholly  unnecessary  to  examine. 
It  is  little  consistent  with  General  Bravo's  known  sentiments 
and  previous  conduct^  to  suppose,  that  he  acted  for  a  moment 


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1830.]  Politics  of  Mexico.  139 

in  concert  with  any  who  meditated  a  restoration  of  the  authority 
of  the  Bourbons,  and  we  freely  acquit  him  of  so  much  of  the 
charge  which  his  enemies  have  preferred;  but  no  terms  of 
censure  are  too  strong  for  the  man  who,  to  gratify  the  impulse 
of  passion  or  to  redress  imaginary  or  real  injuries,  can  expose 
his  country  to  the  risk  of  civil  war,  and  endanger  the  existence 
of  republicanism  itself,  by  giving  a  precedent  to  future  malcon- 
tents, and  some  sliade  of  authority,  to  the  gloomy  prophecies  of 
monarchical  calculators.  There  were  m  Mexico,  doubtless, 
injuries,  personal  and  political,  which  needed  redress;  there 
had  been,  in  the  case  of  the  old  Spaniards,  a  flagrant  violation 
of  the  fundamental  laws  of  the  land,  which  it  is  reasonable  to 
suppose,  had  been  severely  felt  by  those  who,  from  principle 
and  feeling,  were  strongly  attached  to  that  portion  of  their 
fellow-citizens ;  but  the  course  the  patriot,  however  indignant, 
would  have  pursued,  is  widely  different  from  that  which  the 
rebels  of  Otumba  chose  to  follow.  General  Bravo's  personal 
influence  was  great,  and  by  his  example  all  his  adherents  would 
have  been  guided.  Had  he  used  that  influence  to  assuage,  not 
exasperate  the  animosity  which  existed,  and  to  mduce  his 
dependents  to  await  the  certain  and  just  operation  of  public 
opinion,  he  might  before  this  time  have  enjoyed  the  consolation 
of  saving  the  country,  for  whose  liberties  he  had  shed  his  blood, 
from  the  agony  and  convulsion  it  has  since  experienced.  In 
thus  strongly  condemning  the  conduct  of  these  misguided  men, 
we  must  be  understood  as  grounding  our  censure  on  general 
principles,  and  not  on  the  vague  and  intemperate  accusations 
of  political  zealots  of  any  side.  The  righteous  indignation  of 
the  Yorkino  leaders  at  General  Bravo's  conduct,  presents,  as 
we  shall  have  occasion  to  see,  a  strong  contrast  with  their  revo- 
lutionary movements  in  the  following  year. 

How  far  the  Escoces  party  generally  were  involved  in  the 
insurrection  of  Otumba,  can  be  of  course  only  matter  of  specu- 
lation. It  is,  however,  a  fair  inference,  that,  approving  as  they 
unquestionably  did,  of  the  various  objects  specified  in  Montano's 
manifesto,  they  would  not  have  complained  of  tlie  mode  adopted, 
had  it  been  successful.  Its  defeat  was  a  serious,  if  not  a 
fatal  blow  to  their  interest.  It  not  only  gave  a  color  to  the 
accusations  of  their  adversaries,  and  in  that  way  a  support  to 
their  cause,  but  by  withdrawing  so  strong  a  competitor  for  the 
chief  magistracy  at  the  ensuing  election,  ensured  the  elevation 
of  the  popular  aspirant.     General  Vicente  Guerrero  had  long 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


140  Politics  of  Mtxko\  [Jnfyi 

been  before  the  people  as  a  candidnte  for  the  Presidency  i» 
1828,  and  had  been  chosen  as  the  leader  of  the  Yorkino  party. 
For  the  two  years  immediately  antecedent  to  the  electicm,  the 
p'obability  of  his  success  had  been  gradually  becoming  stronger ; 
and  when,  by  the  exile  of  Bravo,  his  onfy  formidable  competi- 
tor was  withdrawn,  the  probability  was  matured  into  eertaintf . 
The  primary  elections,  which  took  place  in  the  surtftner  of  1828, 
for  the  members  of  the  Legislatures,  which  were  to  choose  Ae 
President,  were  all,  with  few  exceptions,  as  was  supposed, 
favorable  to  the  Yorkino  interests.  In  the  interval,  however, 
between  the  suppression  of  Montano's  revolt  and  the  election, 
a  political  coalition  had  been  formed,  which,  but  for  a  resort  to 
arms,  would  have  utterly  disappointed  the  wishes  and  expecta- 
tions of  the  ultrardemocratic  leaders.  The  Escoces  party  had 
united  with  the  seceders  from  the  Yorkmo  party,  who,  under 
the  name  of  moderate  or  middle  men,  had  acquired  considera- 
ble influence.  The  candidate  selected  by  this  combination 
was  Gomez  Pedraza,  then  Secretary  of  War.  He  had  origi- 
nally been  an  active  member  of  the  Yorkmo  party,  and  had 
8tcquired,  in  the  administration  of  his  office,  great  credit  and 
influence  by  his  energy  and  ability.  On  the  occasion  of  the 
late  rebellion,  he  had  been  mainly  instrumental  in  producing 
the  result  which  ensued,  and  was  on  that  account  supposed  to 
be  the  last  man  to  whom  the  Escoces  party  were  likely  to 
adhere.  It  is  certain,  that  the  support  which  they  gave  him 
was  wholly  unexpected.  The  election  took  place  in  September, 
1828,  when,  to  the  utter  mortification  and  discomfiture  of  the 
Yorkino  leaders,  it  appeared  that  their  candidate,  on  whose 
elevation  they  calculated  with  so  much  confidence,  as  the  only 
means  of  sustaining  their  favorite  policy,  was  m  a  minority. 
Ten  States  had  voted  for  Pedraza,  and  eight  for  Guerrero.  It 
may  be  easily  conceived,  that  such  a  result  produced  the  utmost 
consternation  in  the  ranks  of  the.  ultra  party,  and  that  violent, 
we  wish  we  could  believe  honest  indignation,  usurped  the  place 
of  confidence  and  exukation.  To  them  it  was  immateriai 
whether  a  decided  opponent  or  a  moderate  or  doubtful  friend 
were  elected,  since  their  hopes  and  calculations  depended 
wholly  on  the  elevation  of  one  on  whose  sympathies  they  could 
securely  rely.  From  Pedraza,  elected  as  he  had  been  by 
their  enemies,  and  tainted,  as  they  supposed  him  to  be,  with 
moderate  principles,  they  could  hope  for  litde.  The  alterna- 
tives were  left  to  them  of  submitting  quietly  to  the  new  dommion, 


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1830.]  PotiHes  of  Mexico.  141 

ds  good  cilii'eiis  and  patriots,  an*  of  trtKtmg  to  the  result  of 
a  constitulioiial  ittquiry  into  the  alleged  ilkgaiity  of  the  election 
by  the  State  Legisktureis,  or  of  having  recourse  to  a  forcible 
redress  in  an  appeal  to  arms. 

At  this  period  of  p<^ular  excitement,  a  new  character  ap- 
peared on  the  stage.  This  was  General  Antonio  Lopez  ae 
Santa  Ana,  thea  Lieutenant-Gk>veFnor  of  the  State  of  Vera 
Cfuz. '  This  young  soldier,  after  the  foH  of  Iturbidey  to  which 
be  had  greatly  contributed^  had  been  living  in  retirement  oq 
bis  kadenda^  near  Jalapa,  and  by  reovakimg  for  several  yearn 
in  perfect  seclusion,  had  ceased  to  be  an  object  of  public  in- 
terest. By  all  who  knew  his  signal  military  abilities  and  talent 
for  political  intrigue,  he  was  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  dan- 
gerous of  the  citizens  of  the  Republic.  He  was  a  Centralist 
in  1824,  and  had  always  been  charged,  how  justly  we  do  not 
pretend  to  say,  with  hostility  to  the  administration  of  the  first 
President.  The  storm  which  now  seemed  on  the  eve  of  burst- 
ing on  the  Mexicans,  sfEorded  to  this  discontented  chieftain  a 
strong  imduciement  to  appear  anew,  and  a  fair  opportivity  at 
once  ta  conciliate  bis  political  enemies,  and  to  place  himself  ia 
an  imposing  and  popular  attitade  before  the  nation«  Scarcely 
had  the  news  of  Pedraza's  elecfion  circulated  through  the 
country,  when  it  was  ascertained  that  Santa  Ana  had  raised  his 
flag  in  Vera  Cruz,  and  before  the  government  could  realise 
that  a  new  civil  war  had  broken  out,  with  characteristic  activity 
he  had  invested  and  seized  the  castle  of  Perote.  On  his  ban- 
ner were  inscribed  the  fascinating  mottos  of  redress  of  popi>- 
lar  grievances,  and  the  utter  extirpation  of  the  Gachupine^, 
President  Victoria  immediately  issued  his  proclamation,  de- 
nouncing the  attempt  of  Santa  Ana  as  treasonable,  and  implor- 
ing tlie  assistance  of  the  country  in  support  of  the  lawful 
authority  of  the  Republic.  The  energetic  and  decbive  lan- 
guage of  Victoria  in  his  proclamation  deserves  to  be  quoted, 
especially  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to  contrast  it  with  the  tem- 
porizing and  submissive  tone  he  was  obliged  to  use  m  the 
course  of  a  few  months  to  the  armed  rebels  of  the  capital. 
After  referrmg  to  the  pretended  patriotic  objects  of  Santa  Ana, 
he  says — 

'  It  is  no  new  artifice  to  allege  specious  motives  to  excuse  am- 
bitious designs,  and  although  the  Mexicans  have  been  taught  by 
experience  to  close  their  ears  against  such  suggestions,  it  is  my 
duty  to  repeat  to  them  unceasingly,  that  he  profanes  the  nanle  of 


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143  Politici  of  Mexico.  [July, 

the  country,  who  invokes  it  in  order  to  substitute  his  private  wiil 
for  the  legitimate  power  of  the  Constitution  and  the  laws.  No 
more  execrable  offence  can  be  committed  by  a  citizen.  It  is  a 
crime  which  degrades  freemen*,  who,  when  by  association  they 
constitute  a  Republic,  disclaim  any  other  mode  of  expressing 
their  opinions  but  through  the  medium  of  the  constituted  authori- 
ties. It  is  an  abuse,  which  unless  repelled  with  vigor  and  en- 
ergy, must  lead  to  the  total  dissolution  of  society. 

'  For  these  reasons,  the  Government  in  conjunction  with  the 
august  Congress  of  the  Union,  is  taking  the  most  decisive  meas- 
ures to  cut  short  at  once,  the  evils  with  which  the  Republic  is 
threatened,  to  re-establish  confidence  and  restore  peace. 

'  And  since  the  indignation  evinced  by  the  people  on  witness- 
ing the  revolutionary  movements  that  occurred  at  the  beginning 
of  the  year,  was  sufficient  to  dissipate  them  like  smoke,  I  once 
more  call  on  you,  my  fellow-citizens,  to  lend  your  assistance  to  a 
Government,  which  has  no  other  object  but  the  national  pros- 
perity, and  which  throws  itself  with  confidence  upon  the  Consti- 
tution of  the  Republic, — the  holy  principles  which  we  have  pro-, 
claimed — the  firmness  and  wisdom  of  the  General  Congress  and 
of  the  Legislatures  of  the  States  and  the  inextinguishable  attach- 
ment professed  by  the  Mexicans  to  their  liberties  and  laws.  If 
anarchy  again  menace  us,  let  us  baffle  its  impotent  efforts.  Woe 
to  the  wretch  who  dares  profane  with  impious  hand  the  pages  of 
that  Constitution,  which  is  the  idol  of  our  hearts  1 1' 

To  this  animated  appeal  of  the  executive,  the  nation  res- 
ponded with  apparent  cordiality,  and  the  new  insurrection 
seemed  on  the  point  of  sharing  the  fate  of  its  predecessor,  the 
Otumba  plot.  Santa  Ana,  after  defending  the  fortress  of 
Perote  against  the  government  troops,  was  obliged  to  abandon 
it  and  to  seek  refuge  in  the  Province  of  Oaxaca,  where  in  the 
inaccessible  recesses  of  the  mountains,  and  amid  a  population 
devoted  to  his  interests,  he  hoped  to  escape  until  the  outlawry, 
which  had  been  declared,  should  be  revoked.  The  denuncia- 
tions of  this  abortive  attempt  at  revolution  were  not  confined  to 
the  Federal  executive ;  the  press  reviled  its  abettors  as  parri- 
cides and  incendiaries,  the  State  Legislatures  sent  addresses  to 
the  President,  promising  their  aid  in  suppressing  the  rising 
spirit  of  anarchy,  and  could  we  form  any  opinion  of  the  actual 
state  of  public  feeling  from  these  manifestations,, we  should  say, 
that  by  all  parties,  revolutionary  attempts  of  any  kind  were 
regarded  with  equal  aversion.  Yet  amid  this  loud  expression 
of  patriotic  fervor,  seditious  and  violent  measures  were  secretly 


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1830.]  Poliiica  of  Mexico.  148 

planning,  and  the  seeds  of  a  fatal  and  terrible  revolution  were 
actually  vegetating. 

On  the  6th  of  October,  1828,  about  a  month  after  Santa  Ana 
&st  took  the  field,  Don  Lorenzo  de  Zavala,  Governor  of  the 
State  of  Mexico,  and  the  most  active  among  the  Yorkino  leaders, 
was  arrested  at  his  house  in  San  Augustin,  op  a  charge  of  being 
implicated  with  the  insurgents,  and  actually  m  correspondence 
with  them.  This  charge  was  specifically  made  in  the  Senate, 
and  after  an  animated  debate  of  several  days,  it  was  determined 
that  there  was  ground  of  accusation  and  reasonable  suspicion. 
It  was  entirely  within  the  constitutional  capacity  of  Congress,  or 
either  branch  of  k,  to  order  the  arrest,  which  was  made  by  a  war- 
rant from  the  Senate.  Whether  or  not  Zavala  was  guilty  of  the 
charge  thus  solemnly  preferred  against  him,  it  is  difficult  with 
our  inadequate  information  to  conjecture.  In  a  manifesto  since 
published  by  him  he  has  vehemently  asserted  his  innocence, 
and  complained  most  feelingly  of  the  proscriptive  measures  of 
which  he  was  the  victim.  Beyond  this  assertion  and  these 
complamts,  he  has  offered  no  exculpation,  and  agamst  them 
his  accusers  have  produced  evidence,  which  if  uncontra- 
dicted, is  conclusive  of  his  guilt,  or  at  least  a  justification  of 
the  proceedings  mstituted  agamst  him.  To  the  world  one 
circumstance  will  suffice  to  justify  suspicion,  if  not  conviction. 
Unwilling  to  stand  the  judicial  inquiry,  with  which  he  was 
threatened,  a  short  time  after  his  arrest,  Zavala  found  means  to 
escape  firom  the  city  of  Mexico,  and,  accompanied  by  but  a 
single  firiend,  concealed  himself  fi'om  pursuit.  Had  he  been 
innocent,  he  would  have  sought,  not  shunned  inquiry,  and 
would  have  appealed  with  honest  confidence  to  the  bar  of  pub- 
lic opinion  for  complete  absolution.  It  is  idle  to  pretend  that 
he  was  afraid  to  trust  himself  in  the  hands  of  vindictive  ene- 
mies, and  that  on  that  account,  flight  affords  no  fair  presump- 
tion of  guilt.  The  government  party  was  not  strong  enough 
(and  no  one  knew  their  weakness  better  than  Zavala,)  to  sacri- 
fice an  innocent  and  popular  man,  to  gratify  personal  and  politi- 
cal hostility.  His  fiiends  were  too  numerous  and  influential  to 
submit  to  such  an  outrage.  With  this  damnatory  circumstance 
in  the  case,  the  fiiends  of  Zavala  must  produce  less  ques- 
tionable evidence  than  they  have  offered,  to  relieve  him  from 
reasona;ble  suspicion,  or  to  fix  on  his  accusers  the  imputations 
which  have  been  made  against  them. 

In  the  interval  between  Zavala's  flight  and  the  end  of  the 


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144  PolUks  of  Mexko.  U^y 

foDowmg  XDondi,  (November)  the  puUic  oiind,  panioularly  Ui 
tlie  capital,  was  agitated  by  vague  and  undefined  apprehenskxi 
of  danger ;  but  whence  it  was  to  proceed ,  and  in  what  form  to 
come,  no  one  could  telL  The  government  party,  and  the 
£iieads  of  .the  President-elect,  were  conscious  that  they  were 
unprepared  to  control  any  formidable  movement  among  the 
people,  and  could  not  calculate  what  time  would  be  allowed 
to  gain  the  strength  they  needed.  The  populace  of  the  dtf 
composed,  as  it  is,  of  the  most  heterogeneous  ingredi^iits,  was 
agitated  by  various  feelings ;  the  desire  of  rapine  in  civil  tuuiuk 
operating  on  the  licentious  and  necessitous,  and  the  fear  of 
personal  danger  and  pecuniary  loss  agitating  the  orderly  aad 
wealthy.  Among  the  foreign  merchants,  a  strong  feeling  of 
apprehension  existed,  and  they  could  not  view  the  lowering 
elements  of  war  and  confusion  but  with  genuine  alarm.  The 
events  of  the  30th  day  of  November  proved  that  these  hopes 
and  fears  were  not  wholly  groundles$.  On  the  night  of  that 
day,  a  detachment  of  ttie  national  militia,  headed  by  an  pfficer 
named  Cadena,  violently  took  possessicm  of  tlie ;  artillery  bar- 
racks on  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  known  by  the  rame  of  the 
Acor^ada,  and  announced  their  determio^tic^n  to  annul  the 
election  of  Pedraza,  and t compel  the  (Jovernroent  to, enforce 
rigidly  the  laws  against  the  Spaniards.  The  flag  of  .rebellion 
was  soon  surrounded  by  all  the  discontented  cabaUers  of  the 
capital,  at  the  head  of  whom  were  Generals  Guerrero  and 
Lobato,  and  the  fugitive  Zavala,  the  last  of  whom  had  been  ibr 
several  days  secreted  in  the  neighborhood.  A  strong  force, 
composed  of  several  regiments  of  regulars,  a  portion  of  the 
organized  militia,  aiad  the  great  body  of  the  lower  people, 
assembled  around  these  leaders,  and  an  ii^iperious  requisition 
to  the  effect  stated,  was  sent  to  die  executive.  The  Presid^git 
and  his  counsellors  had  but  a  small  force  to  oppose  to  the  rebels. 
The  regiment  of  Toluca,  .amounting  to  about  six  hundred  meoi, 
and  a  small  detachment  of  troc^s  which  bad  just  arrived,  under 
the  command  of  General  Filiscda,  were  ,all  that  could  be  de- 
pended on.  Yet  with  this  inadequate  support,  .the, Cabinet 
determined  on  resistance.  To  whom  the  first  aggression  is  to 
be  altributed,  is  not  ascertained.  Each  party  accuses  the  other 
of  being  the  assailant.  It  is  not  difficult,  however,,  .to  pcant  out 
tbe>cndividiuals  on  whom  the  odium  of  the  frightful  scenes  which 
ensued  ought  to  fall.  It  belongs  to  those  desperate  |mrlisaiis 
who  raised  their  hands  against  ihe  laws  and  ConstitiUion  of  their 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Politics  of  Mexico.  145 

country,  the  first  occupiers  of  the  Acordada.  In  the  course  of 
a  few  hours  after  it  was  ascertained  that  the  constituted  authori- 
ties were  determined  to  sustain  their  legitimate  rights,  and  were 
not  disposed  to  submit  to  the  pretensions  of  armed  rebels,  the 
city  of  Mexico  was  converted  into  a  field  of  battle  and  a  theatre 
of  carnage.  It  has  been  the  boast  of  the  Mexican  eulogists, 
that  never,  during  the  revolution,  were  the  large  cities  of  the 
Republic  profaned,  nor  the  noble  institutions  which  they  con- 
tained endangered  by  the  immediate  presence  of  hostilities  and 
violence.  It  was  reserved  for  republican  Mexico  to  exhibit  the 
revolting  spectacle  of  civil  war  m  its  capital,  and  before  the  face 
of  its  first  magistrate.  For  three  days  a  violent  and  sanguinary 
combat  continued  in  the  principal  streets  of  the  city,  the  palace 
and  the  Acordada  being  the  respective  head-quarters  of  the 
Crovernment  forces  and  the  rebels.  Several  ofiicers  of  distinc- 
tion on  both  sides  were  killed.  The  success  of  these  combats 
was  various,  and  with  so  much  spirit  and  ability  was  the  defence 
of  the  palace  conducted,  that  but  for  the  irresolution  and  singu- 
lar unwillmgness  to  rely  on  his  military  counsellor,  displayed  by 
the  President,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  this  outrage  would 
have  naet  with  just  retribution.  On  the  4th  day  of  December, 
the  first  compromise  was  suggested,  but  failed  in^  consequence 
of  the  reluctance  of  the  rebels  to  accede  to  any  thing  but  un- 
conditional compliance  with  their  demands.  General  Guerrero, 
who,  during  the  siege,  had  remained  in  a  very  unequivocal 
attitude  at  a  neighboring  village,  arrived  at  this  time'  in  the  city 
with  a  reinforcement  for  his^  friends,  and  it  soon  became  evident 
that  the  crisis  was  at  hand.  On  the  same  day,  Pedraza  left 
the  city  with  a  small  company  of  friends,  the  Congress  dissolved 
itself^  and  the  President,  forgetting  the  dignity  of  his  station, 
and  his  personal  and  ofiicial  elevation,  repaired  to  the  quarters 
of  the  enemy,  and  agreed  to  a  capitulation.  The  measure  of 
Mexican  dishonor  was  not  yet  full.  Had  the  scenes  of  violence 
and  turmoil  closed  with  the  virtual  extirpation  of  the  Govern- 
ment, and  the  civil  war  been  limited  in  its  pernicious  influence 
to  the  overthrow  of  Constitutional  authority,  deep  as  would  have 
been  the  disgrace,  there  m|ght  not  have  been  found  wanting 
those  who  would  have  excused  what  had  occurred.  But  what 
succeeded  the  capitulation  of  the  4th  day  of  December,  1828, 
no  one,  however  bigoted  and  determined  in  Yorkino  propensi- 
ties, will,  we  hope,  excuse.  A  portion  of  those  who  had  so 
readily  clustered  around  Mr.  Zavala  and  his  patriotic  junta, 
VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  19 


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146  Politics  of  Meaieo.  t'^^i 

bad  other  than  political  ends  to  attain.  Their  appetites  were 
far  too  craving  to  be  content  with  such  gratification.  The 
leperosj  amounting  in  number  to  several  thousand,  and  many 
of  the  militia,  immediately  on  the  cessation  of  hostilities,  de- 
manded, as  their  reward,  the  pillage  of  the  capital ;  and  their 
leaders,  it  would  seem,  could  devise  no  pretext  for  denial. 
The  active  men  in  the  revolt,  must,  on  this  occasion,  have 
found  an  excuse  for  their  conduct  in  the  complying  disposition 
which  had  been  manifested  toward  them.  For  two  days, 
Mexico  was  the  victim  of  uncontrolled  and  licentious  pillage. 
The  parian^  or  large  bazaar,  where  the  principal  retail  stock 
of  the  city  was  deposited,  and  where  there  was  at  that  time 
property  to  the  amount  of  many  millions  of  dollars,  was  the 
principal  object  of  attack.  There,  the  Spanish  merchants  had 
generally  resided,  and  there  the  Mexican  populace  could  find 
at  once  the  richest  and  most  welcome  plunder.  Where  the 
stores  could  not  be  opened  by  less  violent  means,  fire-arms 
were  applied,  and  the  most  wanton  destruction  of  property 
ensued.  Valuable  goods  of  all  kinds,  cloths,  plate,  jewelry, 
were  scattered  about  the  city,  and  sold  by  the  plunderers  of 
the  parian  for  almost  nothing.  The  depredation  was  not 
directed  entirely  against  the  warehouses  ot  the  Spanish  mer- 
chants; the  property  of  Mexicans  and  foreigners  alike  was 
sacrificed.  It  was  not  until  the  third  day  after  the  pillage 
commenced,  that  the  victorious  party  found  courage  to  check 
the  tumult,  and  even  then  order  seemed  rather  to  be  the  result 
of  satiety  than  constraint. 

The  political  change  which  followed  this  disgraceful  scene 
was  complete.  Pedraza,  unable  to  resist  the  torrent  which  was 
setting  against  him,  had  left  the  city  durmg  the  affi^y,  and  soon 
after,  probably  finding  but  little  hope  of  ultimate  success  in  a 
contest  with  his  triumphant  adversaries,  demanded  his  passports, 
and  has  since  resided  m  England  in  voluntary  exile.  Victoria, 
thrown  by  circumstainces  into  the  hands  of  the  dommant  faction, 
was  compelled  to  appoint  new  Cabinet  ministers.  TTie  election 
which  had  recently  been  made,  was  declared  null  and  void ; 
and  Congress,  which  had  reassembled,  pronounced  Guerrero  to 
be  duly  chosen  President,  and  General  Anastasio  Bustamente,  a 
distinguished  officer  and  active  Yorkino  leader,  Vice-President. 
On  the  installation  of  the  new  oflicers  further  changes  were 
made,  Zaval^  was  fiilly  acquitted  of  all  the  charges  which  had 
been  preferred  against  him,  and  as  a  reward  for  his  important 


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1830.]  PoUticB  of  Meodco.  147 

services  was  made  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  and  Santa  Ana^ 
the  execrated  outkw)  in  consideration  of  his  merits,  was  pro- 
moted to  the  War  Department. 

The  re'Roludon  which  was  thus  effected,  has  not  wanted 
apologists  even  in  this  country.  In  the  violation  of  popular 
rights,  which  is  supposed  to  have  attended  the  election  of 
Pedraza,  it  has  been  said  there  was  a  justification  of  all  the 
outrages  that  were  committed ;  and  it  has  been  specified  as 
one  of  those  extreme  cases  in  which  the  people  were  at  liberty 
to  take  redress  into  their  own  hands.  We  cannot  view  it  in 
this  light.  By  every  man  who  is  not  tainted  with  the  worst 
and  most  dangerous  radicalism,  it  cannot  but  be  regarded  as 
a  pernicious  violation  of  well  setded  law,  and  an  unjustifi- 
able attempt  to  overthrow  a  government,  which  had  nothing 
to  excuse  it  but  success.  In  forming  this  estimate  of  the  con- 
duct of  the  leaders  of  the  Acordada  insurrecdon,  we  have  been 
guided  solely  by  the  statements  of  Mr.  Zavala,  in  the  publica- 
tion, whose  title  we  have  prefixed  to  this  article ;  and  in  the 
enq>hatic  condenrnation  of  it  which,  as  friends  of  republican 
institutions,  we  feel  it  our  duty  to  pronounce,  we  have  adopted, 
perhaps  erroneously,  the  narrative  made  by  this  Coryphaeus  of 
the  plan.  It  cannot,  at  least,  be  said,  that  we  have  resorted  to 
improper  sources  c^  information.  In  the  manifesto,  to  which 
we  have  referred,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  there  is  the 
avowal  of  the  most  shameless  political  profligacy,  and  the 
expression  of  sentiments  which,  we  hope,  it  would  be  injustice 
to  his  firiends  to  suppose  they  entertained.  Were  such  opinions 
to  be  acted  on  with  us,  we  might,  on  the  occurrence  of  the 
first  strong  political  excitement,  be  called  on  in  our  own  tran- 
quil times,  to  witness  scenes  of  civil  war  and  bloodshed,  and 
to  behold  our  own  republic  sunk  to  the  low  level  to  which  our 
neighbors  have  been  unhappily  brought.  We  earnesdy  depre- 
cate all  approval  of  such  sentiments,  and  all  apology  for  such 
conduct.  Let  us,  in  the  true  spirit  of  justice,  view  all  attempts 
at  the  subversion  of  constituted  authority  with  equal  detestation, 
and  not  fall  into  the  irrational  inconsistency  of  Mexican  politi- 
cians, and  in  one  moment  stamp  with  reprobation  Brave's 
abortive  treason,  and  celebrate  with  praise  or  extenuate  with 
sophistry  the  triumphant  rebellion  we  have  just  described. 
The  same  principle  regulates  both,  and  it  is  to  that  principle 
our  condenrnation  refers. 

By  the  complete  triumph  of  the  Yorkino  party,  and  the 


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148  Politics  of  Meaico.  U^^i 

organization  of  a  popular  executive  administration,  it  was  be- 
lieved, the  permanent  happiness  and  tranquillity  of  the  Republic 
were  secured.  On  the  vigor  of  General  Guerrero,  there  was 
secure  reliance,  and  sanguine  hopes  were  entertained  that  the 
community,  once  relieved  from  the  incubus  of  a  monarchical 
faction,  would  soon  be  restored  to  political  health.  But  the 
seeds  of  disease  were  deeply  planted,  and  the  specific  of 
Yorkino  ascendency  was  found  to  be  ineffectual.  The  finances, 
which,  it  was  supposed,  were  to  be  restored  to  order  by  the 
magic  influence  of  the  new  minister,  were  inextricably  entangled. 
Commerce  was  rapidly  declining,  and  with  it  the  revenue 
diminished.  The  army,  strengthened  in  influence  by  its  agency 
m  the  late  revolution,  had  too  long  indulged  in  license  to  be 
subordinate  now;  and  had  not  circumstances  occurred  fi*om 
abroad  to  occupy  the  attention  and  require  the  energies  of  the 
military,  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  fatal  weakness  of 
the  new  administration  would  sooner  have  been  developed. 

The  arrival,  however,  of  the  Spanish  invading  army  under 
Barradas  at  Tampico,  in  the  summer  of  1829,  opened  a  new 
channel  for  public  feeling.  Our  limits  will  not  permit  us  to 
dwell  upon  the  merits  and  details  of  this  convulsive  ethrt  of 
the  Spanish  Government,  to  effect  the  reconquest  of  Mexico. 
We  think  too  highly  of  the  Spanish  nation,  to  say  that  the 
determined  obstinacy  its  rulers  have  manifested  in  relation  to 
the  former  colonies  is  characteristic ;  we  cannot  but  believe  that 
the  idea  of  the  possibility  of  reconquest,  exists  only  in  the  dis- 
tempered brain  of  the  monarch  and  his  immediate  counsellors, 
and  that  no  one,  who  has  paid  any  attention  to  the  condition  of 
the  new  republics,  can  suppose  that  any  plan,  however  artfully  and 
powerfully  framed,  can  have  more  than  temporary  success.  The 
attempt  of  the  invading  army  on  the  coast  of  Mexico  during  the 
last  summer,  was  a  disgrace  to  the  age.  Those  who  advised, 
and  those  who  actually  assisted,  are  equally  worthy  of  contennpt 
and  abhorrence.  To  land  on  the  shores  of  Mexico  at  a  season 
of  the  year  when  pestilence  taints  every  breeze,  with  a  feeble 
force,  amounting  in  all  to  little  more  than  four  diousand  men ; 
to  attempt  the  conquest  of  a  country,  through  which,  on  account 
of  physical  impediments,  it  is  diflicult  to  march  a  body  of  troops 
even  when  unopposed ;  to  take  possession  of  an  unfortified  town 
which  it  was  impossible  to  defend,  and  from  which,  no  inter- 
course could  be  maintained  with  the  shipping ;  to  alienate  the 
feelings  of  the  people  by  acts  of  cruel  and  unnecessary  oppres- 


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1630.]  Politki  of  Mexico.  149 

sion ;  to  surrender  without  a  struggle,  and  to  abandon  fellow 
soldiers  to  captivity  and  death,  were  acts  alike  worthy  the  com- 
mander of  the  expedition  against  Mexico,  and  those  by  whose 
orders  he  acted.  On  Mexican  politics  the  Spanish  invasion 
had  a  decided,  though  temporary  influence,  by  diverting  the 
attention  of  the  nation  from  subjects  of  domestic  grievance, 
and  by  giving  the  new  administi-ation  the  distinction  of  a  mili- 
tary triumph.  The  proclamations  of  Guerrero,  on  the  arrival 
of  the  Spaniards,  contained  the  expression  of  the  most  fervent 
patriotism,  and  the  success  of  his  minister  and  favorite  Santa 
Ana  was  hailed  by  the  people  generally  with  the  utmost 
enthusiasm.  But,  with  all  the  outward  appearance  of  concord 
and  unanimity,  there  was  still  a  mortal  rottenness  In  the  political 
body",  which  was  soon  to  produce  its  decay  and  ruin.  The 
reaction  of  feeling,  particidarly  among  the  militar}',  was  strong 
on  the  ultimate  defeat  and  expulsion  of  the  mvaders,  and  we 
have  to  record  another  revolution  less  violent  than  any  of  its 
precursors,  and  far  more  unaccountable. 

If  the  elevation  of  Guerrero  to  the  Chief  Magistracy,  was, 
as  has  been  asserted,  a  popular  measure,  his  fall,  after  continu- 
ing in  office  not  quite  a  year,  evinces  the  slight  confidence  to 
be  reposed  in  Mexican  popularity.  On  the  arrival  of  the 
Spanish  invasion.  Congress,  m  the  exercise  of  their  unlimited 
prerogative,  had  invested  the  President  with  extraordinary 
powers,  to  be  retained  until  the  danger  should  be  at  an  end. 

This  dictatorship,  the  new  President  evinced  a  strange  and 
decided  unwillingness  to  resign,  and  his  reluctance  was  quickly 
seized  by  his  political  opponents  as  a  pretext  for  resorting  to 
violence  and  compulsion.  Various  insurrectionary  movements 
of  slight  importance  occurred  in  several  of  the  States,  but  no  seri- 
ous apprehensions  were  felt  by  those  in  power,  until  the  fourth 
of  December,  1829,  the  anniversary  of  the  Yorkuao  revolution, 
when  Bustamente,  the  Vice-President  of  the  Republic,  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  the  army  of  reserve,  stationed  in  the 
Stale  of  Vera  Cruz,  issued  a  proclamation  denouncing  the 
abuses  and  usurpations  of  the  Executive,  and  commenced  his 
march  on  the  capital  to  enforce  the  threatened  reform.  Im- 
mediately on  receiving  the  news  of  this  alarming  defection, 
Guerrero  resigned  his  extraordinary  powers,  convoked  the  Con- 
gress, and  appealed  to  that  body  for  support.  But  the  symp- 
toms of  increasing  weakness  had  begun  to  manifest  themselves, 
and  the  victors  of  the  Acordada  soon  had  reason  to  doubt  the 


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150  Po2Mcff  qf  Mexico.  [July^ 

conliiiuaiiee  of  their  iU-aeqaired  power.  No  sooner  had  the 
President  ieft  the  capital  with  a  small  body  of  troops  to  meet 
ike  approachmg  enemy,  than  the  grito  of  revolt  was  raised,  and 
by  the  agency  of  several  aetive  politicians,  a  comj^te  and 
bloodless  revolution  was  effected.  The  troops  in  the  city  o£ 
Mexico,  amiounced  their  adherence  to  Bustamente,  and  de^ 
manded  the  organization  of  a  provisional  govemmei^  Guer- 
rero thus  placed  between  two  enemies,  and  suspicious  of  the 
fidelity  of  the  few  troops  who  still  adhered  to  him,  pursued 
the  only  safe  cause  which  was  left,  by  abdicating  the  Presidency, 
and  retiring  to  his  estate.  His  example  was  immediately 
followed  by  Santa  Ana,  and  the  other  Acordada  leaders,  and  the 
new  government  composed  of  a  temporary  Executive  of  two 
distinguished  civilians,  Velez  and  Alaman,  and  General  Quen«* 
tanar,  assumed  the  administration  of  afiairs  until  the  arrival  of 
the  Vice-President,  who  was  chosen  by  die  troops  as  the 
temporary  successor  of  Guerrero,  in  the  hands  of  ij^stamente 
and  his  party  the  government  has  remained  ever  since. 

The  process  by  which  this  last  revolution  has  been  effected, 
is,  we  confess,  to  us  wholly  inexplicable.     The  party  by  which 
it  has  been  aecom^dished  seems  to  be  composed  of  individuals 
oi  the  most  contradictory  political  tenets,,  and  of  characters  the 
least  fitted  for  coalition.     Federalist  and  Centralist,  Yorkino 
and  Escoces,  seem  to  have  forgotten  all  their  differences,  and 
we  can  discern  in  the  coroposiuon  of  the  triumphant  party,  no 
distinctive  principle,  by  means  of  which  we  can  explain  the 
incongruities  to  which  we  have  referred.     To  the  influence  and 
direct  agency  of  the  army  can  alone  be  ascribed  this  anomalous 
resuh,  and  to  this  source  we  are  compelled  to  attribute  the  fall 
of  that  party  which  claimed  to  be  exclusively  popular^  and  of 
the  mdividuals  who  had  been  chosen  as  their  favorites.     How 
long  the  government  of  the  new  rulers  is  to  continue,  is  a 
question  that  no  one  can  pretend  to  answer.     If,  as  we  have 
suggested,  the  last  revolution  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  discontents 
of  the  military,  the  term  foi  which  the  new  administration  is  to 
enjoy  their  trust  must  necessarily  be  short,  as  the  source  of 
military  discontent,  the  difficulty  of  making  regular  payments 
to  the  troops,  has  not  been  removed.     Whilst  die  army  exists 
in  its  present  organization,  and  its  influence  continues  to  be  so 
great,  no  safe  political  calculation  can  be  made,  as  the  result  of 
any  commotion  must  be  regulated  by  its  participation,  and  that 
leader  must  succeed  who  can  control  it.      In  a  country  so 


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1680.]  P^MSci  0/  Mexico.  161 

unsetded  tibere  is  of  course  litde  proqpect  of  a  dtmrnation  of  this 
military  influence.  Had  the  first  Executive  of  the  Republic 
sooner  realised  die  necesaty  of  a  retrenchment  of  the  national 
expenses,  the  military  force  would  most  naturally  have  been 
the  first  object  of  economical  reform,  and  even  a  rapid  reduc- 
tbn  of  the  army  might  have  been  e&cted  before  civil  disorder 
occurred.  -Unfortunately,  however,  the  community  was  in- 
fected with  a  military  mania ;  military  distinction  was  the  object 
of  universal  ambidon  ;  and  so  powerful  was  the  opposition  dius 
generated  to  any  attempt  to  curtafl  the  army,  that  the  adminis- 
tmion  found  it  expedient,  and  thought  it  necessary  to  remain 
satisfied  with  disbanding  so  much  of  the  local  mdida  as  had 
been  called  into  service.  If  the  reduction  of  the  anny  were 
one  of  the  conditions,  on  wiiich  Pedraza  secured  the  suf^rt 
of  the  modeiiate  party  in  lS28,and  if  there  be  reason  to  believe 
d^at  this  pledge  would  have  been  redeemed,  the  true  friends  of 
Mexico  will  have  additional  reason  to  deplore  the  violence  of 
which  he  was  the  victim.  -In  Mexico,  the  character  of  the 
army  is  very  peculiar.  Its  composition  strongly-resembles  tint 
of  the  whole  community,  being  formed  of  various  dosses,  castes 
and  colors.  They  are  as  savage  in  appearance  as  in  disposi- 
tion. Long  experience  in  predatory  and  irregular  warfare 
during  the  revolution  precluded  the  existence  of  any  portion  of 
the  chivalrous  spirit.  Which  forms  the  distinction  of  military  men 
in  modem  times.  In  the  short  interval  of  tranquiUity  which 
occurred  after  die  surrender  of  the  casde  of  San  Juan  de  UHoa, 
in  1825,  the  troops,  both  regulars  and  active  militia,  were 
quartered  in  die  different  garrisons  and  large  cities,  and  indulg- 
ed in  every  species  of  license  and  disorder.  The  most  dignified 
occupation  6f  die  scridiery  was  police  duty.  Notwithstanding 
Ae  ease  of'soeh  employment,  desertions  were  frequent,  and 
so  late  as  1627  impressments  to  fill  the  vacancies  thus  (treated 
were  coniKandy  resorted  to  in  the  capital.  On  the  first  break- 
ing out  of  the  civil  disorders,  a  new  sphere  of  licentious  action 
was  opened  to  the  soldiery,  and  each  revolution  has  witnessed 
their  active  interference.  In  1828  the  regular  army  alone 
amounted  to  diirty  diousand  men,  and  it  is  not  probable  that 
any  diminution  has  taken  place  since.  Whenever  the  time 
arrives  when  no  proper  military  occupation  can  be  devised  for 
this  host,  diey  vriD  be  turned  loose  to  prey  upon  die  community, 
and  to  defy  die  controV  of  all  'authority.  The  hope  of  effecting 
a  disbandment  of  the  army,  or  of  any  considerable  portion  of 


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152  Polities  of  Mexico.  [July, 

it,  is  now,  we  fear,  almost  desperate,  and  whOe  it  exists,  and 
is  able,  as  it  must  be,  to  exercise  an  influence  in  public  afiairs, 
we  confess  we  can  discern  little  chance  of  the  restoration  of  per- 
manent tranquillity,  and  the  renewal  of  public  confidence. 

Such  is  the  melancholy  narrative  of  recent  events  in  Mex- 
ico, and  such  the  gloomy  prospect  of  the  future.  To  the 
enthusiasts  in  the  cause  of  Spanish  America,  and  to  the  rational 
friend  of  republican  systems,  the  history  of  Mexican  afl[airs 
during  the  two  last  years  must  occasion  equal  pain.  If  such 
enthusiasm  imply  approbation  of  any  excess,  which  is  caUed 
popular  and  democratic,  or  if  it  involve  any  sympathy  with 
radical  and  dangerous  politicians,  we  do  not  pretend  to  be 
among  tlie  former.  To  the  latter  class  we  are  proud  to 
assert  our  adherence.  But  while  we  cordiaDy  lament  the 
degradation  of  our  fellow-republic,  we  are  not  without  a  source 
of  consolation  even  in  the  severity  of  our  disappointment,  and 
while  we  contemplate  with  regret  the  national  humiliation  of 
all  the, Spanish  American  States,  the  question  will  obtrude  it- 
self, what  reason  was  there  to  anticipate  a  different  result  i 
Ages  of  unmitigated  despotism  had  rolled  over  the  colonies  of 
Spain,  in  the  course  of  which  no  means  of  education  and  no 
fecilities  for  intellectual  culture  had  been  afforded.  The  pris- 
oner, who  from  infancy  has  been  shut  up  in  a  dungeon,  is  not 
more  effectually  secluded  from  the  light  of  day,  than  was  the 
great  mass  of  the  colonial  population  from  the  moral  and  intel- 
lectual light,  which  the  rest  of  mankind  enjoyed.  They  held 
no  communication  with  European  nations,  they  were  visited  by 
no  travellers,  they  were  debarred  from  all  participation  in 
foreign  commerce,  political  experience  they  had  not,  and  ab- 
stract political  knowledge  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  obtain. 
Suddenly  the  gloomy  fabric  of  Spanish  despotism  was  shaken 
to  its  foundation,  and  the  enthralled  population  was  in  a  mo- 
ment freed  from  the  shackles,  which  had  bound  it  to  the  soil. 
To  expect  that  in  the  short  space  of  twenty  years,  beyond  which 
time  the  actual  revolutionary  contest  continued  in  no  part  of 
Spanish  America,  practical  knowledge  should  be  acquired,  and 
a  capacity  for  self-government  created  is  more  than  the  most 
sanguine  would  pretend.  Bigotry,  slavery,  ignorance,  and  se- 
clusion, require  allowances,  and  now  that  we  have  fully  real- 
ised their  influence,  we  are  ready  to  make  them,  and  are  most 
willing  to  ascribe  to  the  appropriate  causes  all  the  melancholy 
results,  which  we  have  recorded.    A  long  period  must  elapse 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  PoUiics  of  Mexico.  153 

before  the  benefits  of  untrainmeUed  intelligence  can  be  felt ; 
and  the  severe  discipline  of  national  misfortune  and  individual 
suffering  must  be  endured,  before  we  can  venture  to  pronounce 
the  inaptitude  of  our  fellow-republicans  for  the  noble  institu- 
tions tbey  have  endeavored  to  establish.  Prejudice  must  be 
eradicated,  ancient  habit  neutralised,  public  opinion  purified  by 
rational  religious  restraint,  and  delicate  moral  sensibility  must 
be  made  to  operate.  The  great  truth  must  be  acknowledged, 
that  public  and  private  integrity  are  identical,  and  the  fatal  error 
must  be  corrected  into  which  the  apologists  of  Mexican  revo- 
lutions always  fall,  that  the  man,  wliose  private  life  is  stained  by 
crime,  or  disfigured  by  licentious  practices,  can  be  a  safe  public 
agent,  or  a  worthy  executor  of  public  trusts. 

The  truth  cannot  be  disguised  that  in  Mexico  this  salutary 
public  opinbn  is  not  felt,  and  a  high  tone  of  moral  feeling  is 
not  discernible.  Our  remark  is,  of  course,  a  general  one,  liable 
to  all  the  exceptions  which  each  grateful  traveller  may  make  tn 
favor  of  the  instances  of  virtue  and  domestic  and  social  woith 
that  have  fallen  widiin  his  notice.  As  a  general  observation 
we  deem  it  perfectly  and  easily  sustainable ;  and  until  we  can 
be  iQiade  to  believe  that  a  moral  improvement  has  been  wrpught, 
wie  must  be  excused  from  indulging  in  fiatteripg  anticipations  of 
politicfil  itranquillity  and  happiness.  In  the  recent  commotions 
little  trace  oi  such  a  change  is  discernible,  and  in  the  school 
of  civil  discord  there  is  but  slight  inducement  to  the  practice  of 
public  or  domestic  virtue. 

We  have  thus  endeavored  freely  and  candidly  to  state  the 
opinions  which  a  deliberate  examination  of  the  whole  subject 
of  Mexican  politics  has  induced  us  to  form.  We  believe  that 
there  is  a  radical  defect  in  the  constitution  of  society  in  that 
distracted  country,  to  which  may  be  attributed  all  that  has 
occurred ;  and  we  apprehend  the  repetition  of  such  disasters 
so  long  as  the  want  of  sound  public  opinion,  acting  directly  on 
the  community,  exists.  To  supply  that  deficiency,  we  rely 
on  the  influence  of  time  and  general  education,  on  the  gradual 
eradication  of  prejudice,  and  free  intercourse  with  the  rest  of 
the  world.  When  the  legislators  and  statesmen  of  the  new 
Republic  become  qualified  so  to  administer  the  trust  confided* 
to  them,  we  may  look  to  the  permanent  establishment  of  politi- 
cal institutions,  and  to  a  harmonious  co-operation  with  the  other 
nations  of  the  world,  for  the  promotion  of  the  social  happiness 
of  mankind.     Lord  Bacon  has  said,  that  the  four  pillars  of 

VOL.  xxxi. — NO.  68.  20 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


154  Sunday  Mails.  [Jutyj 

government  are  religion,  justice,  counsel,  and  treasure;  and 
that  when  any  of  them  are  shaken,  ^  men  need  to  pray  for  fair 
weather.'  In  the  same  warning  spirit,  in  which  the  En^ish 
philosopher  uttered  this  sentiment,  we  may  say,  that  if  the  indi- 
viduals now  at  the  head  of  the  government  have  strength  to 
maintain  themselves  in  the  administration  of  afiairs,  the  policy 
of  conciliation  and  compromise  in  regard  to  political  opponents, 
of  vigorous  retrenchment  of  the  national  expenditure,  and  of 
economical  disbursement  of  the  finances,  is  the  only  course 
they  can  pursue  with  safety.  K,  on  the  contrary,  they  fall  into 
the  error  of  their  predecessors,  and  adopt  a  vindictive  and 
prescriptive  system,  their  earty  downfal,  and  a  revival  of  civil 
war  m  its  most  hideous  form,  may  be  expected.  Should  such 
be  the  result,  so  great  will  be  the  exasperation  on  all  sides,  that 
it  is  impossible  to  realise  the  horrors  which  will  ensue.  Revenge 
on  one  side,  and  despair  on  the  other,  will  induce  the  most 
fearful  sacrifices.  Rumors  of  the  immediate  approach  of  such 
confusion  have  already  reached  this  country,  and  unhappily 
there  is  litde  reason  to  withhold  credit  from  them.  We  regard 
the  situation  of  Mexico  with  d^ep  solicitude,  and  shall  hail 
with  sincere  delight  the  hour  when,  emerging  from  the  gloomy 
cloud,  in  which  she  now  is,  and  has  long  been  enveloped,  she 
can  assume  that  station  in  the  family  of  nations,  to  which  her 
real  importance  entitles  her.  Prejudice  and  error  will^  we 
trust,  in  time  be  dissipated.  The  steady  light  of  refined  intel- 
ligence wiU  be  shed  over  this  portion  of  mankind,  and  the 
fi-ee  institutions  of  our  neighbor,  like  the  bright  swnmits  of 
her  own  snowy  mountains  shining  through  a  pure  atmos^ere, 
must  be  objects  of  genuine  interest  and  admiration.  When 
that  day  arrives,  we  may  repose  some  confidence  in  repub- 
lican sympathies. 


Art.  Vn. — Report  of  the  Committee  of  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatvoes  of  the  United  Steves  on  Post- Offices  and  Post- 
Roads  J  to  whom  were  referred  the  Memorials  for  and  against 
i-      prohibiting  the  Transportation  of  the  MaUs  and  the  Dis- 
tribution of  Letters  on  Sunday. 
Counter  Report  of  the  Minority  of  the  same  Committee, 

The  laws  of  the  United  States  which  regulate  the  operations 
of  the  Post-Office  Department,  although  they  contain  no  specific 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Sunday  Mails.  155 

provision  on  the  subject,  have  been  supposed  by  the  executive 
officers  of  the  Government  to  authorise  the  transportation  of  the 
mail,  and  the  distribution  of  letters  on  Sunday.  Whether  this 
construction  be  conformable  to  the  intentions  of  the  'Legislature, 
or  to  the  spirit,  which  has  prevailed  in  the  construction  of  the 
laws,  which  regulate  the  operations  of  all  the  other  departments 
of  the  Government,  may  well  be  doubted.  The  practice  of  the 
Post-Office  certainly  forms  an  exception  to  that  of  all  the  other 
branches  of  the  administration,  whether  of  the  General  or  State 
(jovemments,  in  a]l  their  ramifications,  as  well  to  that  of  the 
citizens  at  large,  both  in  their  individual  and  corporate  capacities. 
The  sittings  of  Congress  and  of  all  the  State  Legislatures  are 
regularly  suspended  on  Sunday.  The  courts  of  justice,  the 
custom-houses,  the  banks,  the  land-offices,  the  compting-rooms, 
offices,  warehouses,  and  shops  of  private  individuals,  are  all 
closed  on  that  day.  The  Post-Office  alone  continues  its  usual 
labors  with  unremitted  activity,  and  with  but  little  variation 
in  its  modes  of  proceeding.  As  the  laws  which  regulate  the 
operations  of  all  the  other  departments,  although  equally  silent 
on  the  subject,  have  been  all  construed  to  intend  a  discon- 
tinuance of  the  transaction  of  business  on  Sunday,  it  would 
perhaps  have  }>een  more  natural  to  put  a  similar  construction  on 
the  Post-Office  laws.  For  some  reason  or  other — ^probably  by 
the  effect  of  mere  accident — a  different  system  has  prevailed, 
and  the  practice  of  this  branch  of  the  public  service  has  hitherto 
formed,  as  we  have  just  remarked,  an  exception  to  the  rule 
observed  in  all  the  rest. 

The  singularity  of  this  circumstance,  to  whatever  cause  it 
may  have  been  owing,  has  for  some  time  past  attracted  the 
attention  of  many  of  the  citizens  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  and 
numerous  memorials  have  been  annually  transmitted  to  Congress, 
setting  forth  the  supposed  inconveniences  of  the  present  state 
of  things,  and  requesting  such  a  modification  of  the  existing 
laws,  as  would  effect  a  change.  Other  memorials  have  m  turn 
been  transmitted  in  favor  of  perseverance  in  the  existing  system. 
There  is  no  appearance  of  any  improper  or  dangerous  motive  for 
these  proceedings  on  either  side ;  nor  have  those  who  have  taken 
part  in  them  been  arrayjed  on  one  side  or  the  other  according 
to  any  sectarian  divisions.  The  several  religious  sects,  which, 
from  their  agreement  in  certain  fimdamental  points>of  belief, 
are  popularly  denominated  orthodox^  are  among  those,  which  are 
apparently  most  desirous  of  a  change  in  the  existmg  practice ; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


156  Sunday  Maib.  [July, 

while  some  other  sects  of  considerable  influence  in  particular 
parts  of  the  country,  and  which  hold  a  different  opinion  upon 
the  points  aDuded  to,  have  appeared  to  agree  with  their  orthodox 
brethren  upon  this.  It  is  understood  that  one  of  the  petitions 
for  a  change  in  the  existing  practice  was  drawn  up  and  headed 
by  a  justly  respected  Unitarian  clergyman  of  Uiis  city,  and 
extensively  signed  by  individuals  of  the  same  persuasion.  As 
the  memorials  in  favor  of  a  change  proceed  from  citizens  of  all 
the  difierent  religious  sects,  it  is  probable,  altliough  we  have 
not  so  direct  a  knowledge  of  the  fact,  that  the  same  is  the  case 
with  those  who  pray  for  the  maintenance  of  the  existing  system. 
Both  parties  are,  no  doubt,  equally  honest  in  their  belief  of  the 
expediency  of  the  courses  which  they  respectively  recommend. 
The  memorials  on  the  subject,  transmitted  to  the  last  and 
present  Congress,  were  referred  to  committees  which  reported 
in  both  houses  against  a  change.  The  petitioners  are,  however, 
apparently  not  discouraged,  and  will  probably  continue  their 
efforts  at  the  future  sessions  of  Congress.  The  question,  like 
every  other  connected  with  religious  belief  and  practice,  natu- 
rally excites  a  strong  interest  throughout  the  community ;  and 
we  have  thought  that  a  few  remarks  upon  it  might  not  be  unin- 
teresting to  some  of  our  readers.  The  report,  which  forms 
the  iimnediate  subject  of  this  article,  is  attributed  to  Colonel 
Johnson  of  Kentucky,  who  acted  as  chairman  of  the  committee, 
and  who  had  previously,  when  acting  in  the  same  capacity  in 
the  Senate,  made  a  report  on  the  same  subject  to  tha^  body, 
corresponding  very  nearly  in  substance  with  this.  The  counter- 
report,  or  protest,  of  the  minority  is  attributed  to  Mr.  Macreary. 
Whenever  any  change  is  proposed  in  the  existing  laws,  or 
the  practice  under  them,  it  rests,  as  a  general  rule,  with  the 
party  or  person  recommending  it,  to  prove  its  necessity  or  expe- 
diency ;  and  on  this  principle  it  would  belong  to  the  petitioners 
against  the  present  system  to  show  that  it  ought  to  be  abolished. 
In  this  particular  case,  however,  it  strikes  us  that  the  general 
presumption  against  innovation,  and  in  favor  of  existing  laws 
and  practices,  considered  as  such,  is  rebutted  by  the  fact  to 
which  we  have  already  adverted — ^that  the  practice  in  the  Post- 
Office  Department  is  different  from  that  which  prevails  in  all  the 
others.  It  the  people,  acting  in  their  corporate  capacity  through 
their  different  agents,  consider  it  a  religious  duty  to  suspend  all 
the  other  operations  of  Grovemment  on  Sunday,  a  presumption 
arises,  that  those  of  the  Post-Office  should  also  be  suspended 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Sunday  Mails.  157 

for  the  same  reason.  The  presumption  being  then  b  favor  of 
a  change,  the  burden  of  proof  rests  with  those  who  support  the 
existing  system ;  and  it  belongs  to  them  to  show  why  the  prac«- 
tice  in  the  Post-Office  Department  ought  to  form  an  exception 
to  that  which  prevails  in  all  the  others,  and  why  the  same 
religious  considerations,  which  induce  the  people  to  suspend  ail 
their  other  political  and  private  labors  on  Sunday,  should  not 
induce  them  to  discontinue  the  transportation  of  the  mail  and 
the  distribution  of  letters. 

The  committee,  though  apparently  actuated  by  good  inten- 
tions, and  a  laudable  anxiety  to  maintain  the  political  and  civil 
rights  of  the  citizens,  have,  we  think,  been  led  into  error  by 
not  adverting  sufficiently  to  the  considerations  detailed  above. 
So  far,  indeed,  are  they  from  appearing  to  be  aware,  that  the 
practice  of  the  Post-Office  Department  is  an  exception  from 
the  rule  observed  in  all  the  others,  that  they  evidently  consider 
the  petitioners  for  a  change  in  this  practice  as  endeavoring  to 
make  it  such.  Thus  they  inquire,  in  the  course  of  their  report, 
*  Why  the  petitioners  have  confined  their  prayer  to  the  mails- 
why  they  have  not  requested,  that  the  Government  be  required 
to  suspend  all  its  executive  functions  on  that  day— why  they 
have  not  required  that  our  ships  shaU  not  sail— that  our  armies 
shall  not  march — ^that  officers  of  justice  shaU  not  seize  the 
suspected  or  guard  tlie  convicted  ?'  The  committee,  when  they 
put  these  questions,  had  obviously  lost  sight  of  the  fact,  that  all 
the  other  functions  of  Gk)vemraent*— executive,  legislative,  and 
judicial — ^are  in  fact  suspended  on  Sunday,  excepting  in  a  few 
particular  cases,  like  those  which  they  enumerate,  and  which 
are  made  exceptions  to  the  general  rule  on  account  of  the  great 
inconvenience  which  would  result  from  its  observation.  If  the 
jailer,  for  instance,  were  to  suspend  the  exercise  of  his  duty  on 
Sunday,  his  prisoners  would  all  escape ;  so  that  there  is  an  abso- 
lute necessity  for  his  continuing  it.  If  the  commander  of  an 
army  were  to  suspend  the  exercise  of  his  functions  every  seventh 
day,  his  adversary  might,  under  certain  critical  circumstances, 
obtain  such  an  advantage  over  him,  as  would  decide  the  fate 
of  a  campaign — ^perhaps  the  political  situation  of  the  country. 
Here  the  inconvenience  of  observing  the  rule  is  so  great  as  to 
produce  a  moral  necessity  of  violating  it,  and  so  of  all  the  other 
cases  mentioned.  The  practice  of  the  Post-Office  can  only 
be  justified,  if  at  all,  in  the  same  way,  as  a  case  of  exception. 
The  report,  by  not  adverting  to  this  circumstance,  and  by  em- 


.    Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


158  Sunday  Mails.  [July, 

plojring  in  support  of  the  present  system  only  certain  general 
considerations,  which  might  be  applied  with  equal  force  in  any 
other  branch  of  the  public  service,  proves  either  too  much  or 
nothing  at  all.  The  inconveniences  apprehended  by  the  com- 
mittee from  a  dbcontinuance  of  the  existing  system,  are  of  a 
remote  and  prospective  kind,  such  as  the  tendency  to  a  union 
of  Church  and  State,  and  the  inconvenience  of  diminishing  in 
any  way  the  activity  of  the  business  of  private  life.  Now  it  is 
quite  obvious,  that  these  inconveniences,  if  there  be  any  danger 
at  all  of  their  occurrence,  would  be  as  likely  to  result  from  a 
discontinuance  on  Sund^  of  the  business  of  any  other  depart- 
ment as  of  that  of  the  Fost-Office.  If  the  suspension  of  the 
transportation  of  the  mail  on  that  day  have  a  tendency  to  bring 
about  a  union  of  Church  and  State — ^an  apprehension  which 
we  believe  to  be  whoDy  groundless — ^it  is  clear  to  us,  that  a 
suspension  of  the  sessions  of  Congress,  of  the  State  Legislatures, 
or  of  the  coiu1;s  of  justice,  must  have  the  same  tendency  in  a 
still  greater  degree,  in  proportion  to  the  superior  importanee 
of  the  business  which  would  thus  be  kept  in  abeyance.  Hence 
the  reasoning  of  the  committee,  as  we  have  just  remarked, 
tends,  as  far  as  it  has  any  weight,  to  show  that  the  whole 
business  of  the  admbistration  ought  to  proceed  with  the  same 
activity  on  Sunday  as  on  any  other  day  of  the  week.  The 
argument,  if  it  prove  any  thmg,  proves  a  great  deal  too  much; 
and  of  course  in  reality  proves  nothing. 

This  defect  in  the  reasoning  of  the  committee  is  obviously 
a  fatal  one,  and  we  are  of  course  authorised,  without  seeking 
for  any  other,  to  reject  their  conclusion.  It  may  not,  however, 
be  improper,  considering  the  interesting  character  of  the  ques- 
tion, to  examine  a  little  more  particularly  the  real  importance 
of  the  objections  alleged  by  them,  to  the  application  in  the 
Post-Office  Department  of  the  same  rule  which  is  observed  in 
all  the  others.  These  objections,  as  we  have  akeady  seen,  by 
proving  too  much,  prove  nothing — ^but  independently  of  this 
defect,  and  supposing  that  we  were  willing  to  admit  ^eir  val- 
idity to  the  full  extent  to  which  they  can  be  applied,  it  will 
appear,  we  thmk,  on  examination,  that  they  have  in  fact  little 
or  no  real  weight  for  any  purpose.  They  are,  if  we  rightly 
understand  the  reasoning  of  the  report,  the  two  foUowing; 

1.  The  tendency  of  the  suspension  of  the  transportation  of 
the  mail,  and  the  distribution  of  letters  on  Sunday,  to  effect  a 
union  oi  Church  and  State. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Sunday  Mails.  159 

2.  The  practical  inconvenience  which  wotdd  result  from 
such  a  measure,  in  the  diminished  activity  of  the  ordinary  busi- 
ness of  life. 

The  second  of  these  objections  is  the  only  one  which  ap- 
pears to  us  to  possess  much  plausibility,  but  as  the  former  is 
that  on  which  the  conunittee  insist  most  strongly,  and  which 
they  evidently  regard  as  the  more  important  of  the  two,  it  may 
be  proper  to  give  it  a  moment's  consideration. 

On  this  head  it  is  argued  by  the  committee,  that  there  are 
various  opmionS'in  the  community,  as  to  the  proper  manner  of 
observing  the  Sabbath  ;  that  each  individual  has  hitherto  been 
left  to  pursue  his  own  course  ;  but  that  the  effect  of  suspending 
the  transportation  of  the  mail  on  that  day,  would  be  to  decide 
the  question  m  favor  of  those  who  prefer  a  particular  system, 
and  would  therefore  come  within  the  spirit  of  the  clause  of  the 
constitution,  which  prohibits  any  legislative  preference  of  one 
religious  sect  over  another.  It  does  not  appear  to  have  occur- 
red to  the  committee,  when  they  employed  this  argument,  that 
the  act  of  Congress  regulatmg  the  transportation  of  the  mail 
must  necessarily  provide  either  for  carrying  it  or  not  carrying  it 
on  Sunday ;  and  that  if  a  provision  for  not  carrying  it  be  deci- 
sive of  the  question  at  issue  between  the  sects  in  favor  of  one, 
a  provision  for  carrybg  it  is  of  course  as  decisive  in  favor  of 
another.  This  being  the  case,  it  is  obvious  that  the  existing 
system  involves  precisely  the  same  violation  of  the  spirit  of  the 
constitution,  which,  if  any,  would  result  from  the  other. 

It  is  plain  to  us,  however,  that  there  is  not  in  either  case, 
any  violation  of  the  spirit  of  the  constitution,  as  there  is  con- 
fessedly none  of  the  letter.  The  enactment  of  a  law  regu- 
lating the  transportation  of  the  mail  is  admitted  to  be  within 
the  power  of  Congress,  and  this  law  must,  as  we  have  just 
remarked,  provide  either  for  carrying  or  not  carrying  it  on 
Sunday.  Li  adopting  one  or  the  other  part  of  the  alterna- 
tive, each  member  of  Congress  will  naturally  be  governed  by 
his  own  views  of  expediency  and  duty,  excepting  so  far  as 
he  may  have  the  instructions  of  his  constituents.  If  he 
would  hesitate  as  a  private  individual  to  travel  or  order  his 
agents  to  travel  on  Sunday  upon  his  own  business,  he  will  prob- 
ably in  like  manner  decline,  as  a  representative  of  the  people,  to 
order  their  agents  so  to  do.  If  on  the  other  hand,  he  would 
feel  no  scruple  on  the  subject  in  his  private  capacity,  he  would 
probably  feel  none  in  his  public  one.     In  either  case,  it  does 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


160  Sunday  MUU*  [July, 

not  appear  to  us,  that  be  imposes  any  trammeb  upon  the  con- 
sciences or  acts  of  others.  Each  member  of  the  community 
retains  the  same  right  that  he  possessed  before  of  travelling  or 
not  travelling  on  Sunday,  according  to  his  own  peculiar  views, 
a^d,  if  these  views  have  not  been  carried  into  effect  by  his  polit- 
ical representative,  he  retains  in  full  force  his  former  right  of 
giving  his  vote  for  another  at  the  next  election.  In  all  this  we 
can  discern  no  appearance  of  any  thing  unconstitutional,  either 
in  letter  or  spirit,  or  of  any  thing  at  variance  with  the  regular 
routme  of  ordinary  legislation. 

It  is  intimated,  indeed,  by  the  committee,  ^bsA  ;a  political  rep- 
resentative ought  not  in  any  case  to  be  guided  in  ^e  discbarge 
of  his  official  duty  by  religious  considerations,  and  the  same 
opinion  is  still  more  decidedly  expressed  in  certain  newspaper 
essays  on  the  subject,  that  have  happened  to  fall  under  our 
(^servation ;  the  writer  of  which  considers  the  ^  being  influ- 
enced in  the  exercise  of  temporal  power  by  religious  belief,' 
as  neither  motQ  nor  less  than  the  union  of  Church  and  State, 
and  afterwards  declares,  th$^  '  it  is  the  sacred  duty  of  a 
representative,  befere  he  gives  his  vote  upon  a  point  any  wise 
connected  with  religious  considerations,  to  search  the  inmost 
recesses  of  his  conscience,  and  to  ascertain  that  religious  belief 
is  not  operating  in  his  mind  as  a  motive  to  that  vote.'  But, 
independently  of  the  objection  ahready  stated  to  this  argument, 
as  applied  to  the  present  case,  namely,  that  a  vote  in  favcnr  of 
carrying  the  mail  on  Sunday  is  as  much  given  from  religious 
con»derations,  though  of  a  different  kind,  as  one  against  it, 
it  is  clear  to  us,  that  there  is  some  very  singular  perversion  of 
language,  or  obliquity  of  judgment,  implied  in  these  remarks, 
which  if  taken  in  their  natural  and  obvious  sense,  are  directly 
at  variance  with  the  plainest  suggestions  of  reason,  and  the  let- 
ter and  spirit  of  Scripture.  Instead  of  being  bound,  as  the 
writer  of  them  supposes,  to  exclude  all  religious  considerations 
in  giving  his  vote  upon  a  subject  connected  with  religion,  the 
representative  is  undoubtedly  bound  on  that,  and  on  every  other 
occasion,  whether  of  a  public  or  private  character,  to  act  under 
the  influence  of  religious  considerations.  *  Whether  we  eat  or 
drink,  or  utiatever  we  do,^  we  are  directed  in  Scripture  to  *  do 
M  to  the  praise  and  glory  of  Grod.'  It  is  expressly  enjoined 
on  rulers  in  particular,  to  govern  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  It 
is  in  fact  the  peculiar  virtue  of  religion,  as  a  motive  of  action, 
that  it  is  applicable  on  every  occasion,  and  to  every  part  of 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Sunday  Mails.  161 

conduct.  It  is  one  branch  of  our  religious  duty  to  obey  the 
constitution  and  laws  of  the  land  ;  and  if  the  constitution  pro- 
hibit the  establishment  of  a  national  church,  it  is  the  religious 
duty  of  a  representative,  even  though  he  individually  prefer  an 
establishment,  to  vote  against  any  project  of  the  kind,  until  the 
prohibition  in  the  constitution  be  repealed ;  but  even  in  voting 
against  an  establishment,  he  is  or  ought  to  be  as  much  in- 
fluenced by  religious  considerations,  as  if  he  voted  in  favor  of 
it.  It  is  impossible,  in  short,  to  conceive  a  case,  either  in  pub- 
lic or  private  life,  in  which  it  is  not  the  duty  of  every  member  of 
the  community  to  act  under  the  influence  of  religious  motives ; 
and  in  proportion  as  an  individual  is  more  completely  influenced 
by  such  motives  to  the  exclusion  of  any  others,  which  have 
their  origin  in  mere  expediency,  so  much  tlie  more  probable  is 
it  that  he  will  avoid  error,  and  render  himself  acceptable  to  the 
Great  Judge,  to  whom  he  is  ultimately  to  give  an  account  of 
the  deeds  don^  in  the  body. 

The  assertion  that  the  union  of  Church  and  State  consists 
in  being  influenced  in  the  exercise  of  temporal  power  by  re- 
ligious belief,  seems  to  argue  a  great  looseness  of  ideas  upon 
the  whole  subject.  The  being  influenced  in  the  exercise  of 
temporal  power  by  religious  belief  is  a  particular  state  of  mind, 
or,  if  habitual,  a  particiriar  trait  of  character  in  individuals  ; — 
the  union  of  Church  and  State  is  a  form  of  political  institutions. 
To  say  that  one  of  them  is  the  other  is  about  as  correct  as  it 
would  be  to  say  that  courage  is  a  military  despotism — tem- 
perance a  constitutional  monarchy— or  the  love  of  liberty  a 
republic.  If  the  remark  alluded  to  be  merely — as  is  probable 
enougl) — an  incorrect  mode  of  expressing  the  idea  that  a 
disposition  in  individuals  to  act  from  religious  motives  has  a 
tendency  to  bring  about  a  union  of  Church  and  State,  the  objec- 
tion is  rather  more  intelligible,  though  not  much  better  founded 
than  on  the  other  construction.  Religious  motives  are,  as  we 
have  shewn,  the  best  under  which  we  can  possibly  act,  and  tend 
of  course  to  produce  the  best  possible  results.  If  one  of  these 
results  be  the  union  of  Church  and  State,  it  could  only  be 
because  this  union  is  the  best  of  all  possible  modes  of  regulating 
the  relations  between  religion  and  government.  Hence  the 
committee,  in  afl5rming  that  a  disposition  in  individuals  to  act 
from  religious  motives  tends  to  brmg  about  a  union  of  Church 
and  State,  affirm  by  implication  that  this  union  is  an  excellent 
institution — ^which  is  probably  not  their  intention,  and  is,  at  all 

VOL.  XXXI. ^NO.  68.  21 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


162  Sunday  Mails.  [July, 

events  not  the  opinion  of  the  people  of  the  United  States.  If 
a  union  of  Church  and  State  be,  as  is  generally  supposed,  and  as 
the  committee  appear  to  think,  a  dangerous  institution,  it  is 
certain  that  the  surest  way  of  steering  clear  of  it,  is  for  the 
public  agents  to  act  in  all  cases  to  the  best  of  their  ability  on 
the  best  and  purest  motives,  which  are,  undoubtedly,  the  fear 
of  (5od  and  the  honest  intention  to  do  His  will.  The  moment 
you  allow  any  weight  to  considerations  of  mere  expediency  in 
opposition  to  these,  you  open  a  door  to  corruptions  of  every 
kmd,  which  are  the  more  likely  to  gain  admittance  in  proportion 
as  the  names  they  bear  are  more  respectable  and  plausible. 

For  ourselves,  so  far  are  we  from  apprehending  any  practi- 
cal inconvenience  from  the  influence  of  religious  motives  in 
legislation,  that  we  should  consider  ah  extension  of  this  influ- 
ence as  one  of  the  most  fortunate  things  that  could  possibly 
happen  to  the  country.  The  great  evil  in  practical  legislation 
is  the  influence  of  corrupt,  or  low  and  narrow  views.  HoW 
often  does  the  passage  or  rejection  of  an  important  law  depend 
entirely  upon  die  relative  strength  of  political  parties,  divided 
perhaps  by  considerations  wholly  foreign  to  the  subject  of  it ! 
During  the  last  session  of  Congress  we  have  seen  the  newspa- 
pers of  a  political  party  declaring,  with  great  satisfaction,  tiiat 
the  question  of  the  right  of  a  member  elect  to  take  his  seat  was 
decided  by  a  party  vote.  When  the  motive  is  not  absolutely 
corrupt,  how  often  is  it  of  a  low  and  narrow  cast !  A  legislator 
votes  in  favor  of  a  rail-road  because  it  passes  through  his  own 
town,  or  against  it  because  it  does  not.  If  he  happen  to  live 
in  a  cotton-gro\^dng  state,  he  opposes  the  protecting  policy ;  if 
in  a  manufacturing  one,  he  supports  it ;  if  he  remove  from  the 
latter  to  the  former,  he  leaves  his  former  creed  behmd  him  and 
takes  up  that  of  his  new  residence.  The  only  sure  way  of 
rising  above  the  influence  of  improper  motives,  whether  ab- 
solutely vicious,  or  only  narrow,  is  to  give  no  weight  to  any 
considerations  but  those  of  duty,  or  in  other  words,  religious 
principle.  The  individual,  whether  m  public  or  private  life, 
who  pursues  this  course,  is  sure  of  doing  right  as  far  as  he 
knows  what  right  is ;  and  we  are  all  but  too  well  aware,  that 
our  practical  errors  are  much  less  frequently  the  result  (3f  not 
knowing  what  is  right  than  of  a  disinclination  to  do  it. 

We  have  enlarged  rather  more  upon  this  objection  than  its 
real  importance  perhaps  rendered  necessary,  which,  as  we 
have  temarked  above,  and  have  since  endeavored  to  show,  is 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Sunday  MaUs.  163 

very  litde.  The  other,  which  is  founded  on  the  practical  incon- 
venience that  would  result  from  suspending  the  transportation 
of  the  mail  and  the  delivery  of  letters  on  Sunday,  is  the  only 
one  which  appears  to  us  to  have  any  considerable  weight.  But 
even.this  is  not,  in  our  opinion,  of  a  very  decisive  character. 

It  is,  no  doubt,  true,  that  the  rapidity  of  the  progress  of  all 
private  business  would,  to  a  certain  extent,  be  diminished  by 
the  change  in  question ;  but  it  will  hardly  be  pretended  that 
the  inconvenience  resultmg  from  this  diminution,  is  of  such  a 
kind  as  to  make  out  a  case  of  necessity,  which  would  authorise 
the  community  in  waiving  the  observation  of  the  moral  and  re- 
ligious rules,  of  which  they  acknowledge  the  obligation  in  all 
others.  The  committee,  certainly,  have  not  proved  or  attempted 
to  prove  the  reality  of  any  such  necessity.  They  say  that  if 
you  stop  the  mail  one  day  in  seven,  you  retard  by  one  seventh 
the  advancement  of  the  country.  This  reasoning  supposes 
that  the  mail  is  the  only  instrument  that  is  or  can  be  employed 
for  the  advancement  of  civilisation — a  supposition  which  is 
obviously  incorrect.  .It  is,  no  doubt,  one  and  a  very  useful 
instrument  for  that  purpose.  The  objection  more  correctly 
stated  would  be,  that  if  you  stop  the  mail  one  day  in  seven  you 
diminish  by  one  seventh  the  efficacy  of  the  Post-Office  in  pro- 
ducing the  advantages  that  naturally  result  from  it.  This  is 
true ;  but  it  is  only  an  application  to  a  particular  branch  of  labor 
of  the  general  proposition,  that  if  you  suspend  the  labor  of  the 
community  one  day  in  seven,  you  make  the  labor  of  the  com- 
munity one  seventh  part  less  productive  than  it  otherwise  would 
be.  This  vie  know,  or  at  least  may  admit  for  argument's  sake  ; 
but  notwithstanding  this,  there  are  certain  religious  and  moral 
considerations,  which  induce  the  community  as  a  general  nile 
to  suspend  all  their  labors  one  day  in  seven.  Why  should  not 
this  rule  be  applied  to  the  labor  employed  in  carrying  the  mails 
as  well  as  to  all  the  rest?  As  the  committee  think  that  it 
ought  not  to  be,  it  was  their  business  to  tell  us  why ;  but  it  is 
obviously  not  sufficient  to  .tell  us,  that  the  labor  of  the  Post- 
Office  department  would  be  immediately,  in  the  case  supposed, 
one  seventh  part  less  productive  in  a  given  time  than  it  was 
before.  This  is  a  matter  of  course,  and  the  principle  is  as  true 
of  all  the  other  departments  as  of  the  Post-Office.  But  why 
deduce  from  it  in  regard  to  that  department  a  conclusion,  which 
you  do  not  deduce  from  it  in  regard  to  any  other  ?  Why,  in 
short,  make  the  practice  of  the  Post-Office  department  an 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


164  Sunday  Math.  [July, 

exception  to  that  of  all  the  others  ?  This,  as  we  have  repeat- 
edly said,  is  the  real  question,  and  it  is  one  to  which  the 
committee  have  not  attempted  to  reply. 

Although  we  h^ve  admitted,  for  the  sake  of  the  argument,  in 
the  above  remarks,  that  the  labor  of  the  community,  if  suspended 
one  day  in  seven,  is  for  that  reason  one  seventh  part  less  pro- 
ductive, we  are  far  from  thinking  that  such  is  in  fact  the  case. 
We  believe,  on  the  contrary,  that  this  is  one  of  the  instances 
in  which  two  and  two  do  not  make  four.  Whether  We  consider 
labor  as  intended  to  produce  the  immediate  result,  wealth,  or 
^e  more  remote  one,  well-being  physical  and  moral,  we  have 
no  hesitation  in  saying,  that  we  believe  it  becomes  more  instead 
of  less  productive  by  an  occasional  suspension.  We  all  know 
that  our  facukies  cannot  be  kept  forever  on  the  stretch.  Without 
the  nightly  intervention  of  that  *  blessed  thing,  sleep,'  as  Cole- 
ridge calls  it,  to  suspend  our  toils  and  labors,  soothe  our  cares, 
and  recruit  our  strength,  we  should  all,  in  a  very  short  time,  go 
mad  and  die.  But  the  preservation  of  a  sound,  healthy,  active 
and  cheerful  condition  of  our  nature  requires,  in  addition  to 
this,  an  occasional  suspension  of  labor  for  longer  periods ;  and 
it  was,  doubtless,  in  the  kind  view  of  accommodating  his  com- 
mands to  the  constitution  which  he  had  given  us,  that  the 
Creator  prescribed  the  observance  of  a  weekly  day  of  rest. 
The  man,  who  constantly  pursues  his  worldly  objects  without 
allowing  himself  a  moment's  leisure,  gradually  acquires,  by  a 
sort  of  moral  gravitation,  an  accelerated  and  feverish  intensity 
of  action,  which,  if  not  checked  in  one  way  or  another,  ends 
in  extravagance,  bankruptcy  and  ruin.  By  wholly  diverting 
his  thoughts  one  day  in  seven  from  business,  and  turning 
them  upon  the  high  and  glorious  subject  of  his  intellectual  and 
moral  relations  to  God,  his  fellow-men,  and  the  universe,  he 
cools  the  fever  of  his  mind ;  and  when  he  takes  up  his  afiairs 
again  on  Monday  morning,  he  is  surprised  to  find  with  how 
much  clearer  a  judgment  he  considers  the  plans  and  purposes 
of  which  he  took  leave  on  Saturday.  He  now  percefves  errors, 
that  before  escaped  his  attention, — ^rejects  imprudent  projects 
that  before  presented  themselves  in  tempting  colors  to  his 
heated  fancy — ^and  if  his  gains  at  the  end  of  the  week  be  one 
seventh  less,  they  will  probably  at  the  end  of  the  year,  be 
seventy  fold  more.  Instead  of  being  a  miserable  bankrupt,  he 
will  be  a  thriving,  healthy,  happy  man.  We  have  no  hesitation 
in  saying  that  the  fault  we  have  here  mdicated  of  a  too  urgent 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Sunday  Mails.  165 

pursuit  of  worldly  gain,  is  a  common  trait  in  the  character  of 
our  countrymen,  and  that  a  more  exclusive  devotion  of  the 
Sabbath  to  repose  and  religious  contemplation  would  be  a 
most  wholesome  corrective  of  the  evil.  We  strain  every 
nerve  to  the  utmost,  employ  every  cent  of  capital  that  we  own 
or  can  borrow,  and  not  content  with  obtaining  an  honorable 
subsistence  for  ourselves  and  our  families  by  the  regular  prac- 
tice of  our  respective  callings,  grasp,  with  an  agonising  effort, 
at  any  project  that  holds  out  the  least  prospect  of  extraordinary 
gain.  What  follows  ?  A  few  persons  amass  immense  fortunes, 
die  possession  of  which  has  no  very  favorable  effect  upon  their 
own  characters,  or  those  of  their  children.  The  rest — ^at  the 
first  little  convulsion  in  the  world  of  business — are  swept — like 
dead  leaves  before  a  November  blast — into  the  gulf  of  bank- 
ruptcy. It  would  be  vain  to  deny  that  the  general  habits  of 
our  active  men  of  every  class  correspond  in  the  main  with 
this  description  ;  and  it  is,  in  our  opinion,  equally  certain,  that 
a  real  and  hona-fide  suspension  of  worldly  cares  one  day  in 
seven  would  greatly  improve — ^were  it  only  by  its  negative  and 
sedative  effects — the  state  of  mmd  which  leads  to  these  ex- 
travagant efforts  and  their  disastrous  resuhs.  It  is,  in  short, 
clear  to  us,  that  the  labor  of  the  community — by  being  sus- 
pended one  day  in  seven — ^becomes,  not  less,  but  on  the 
contrary  a  great  deal  more  productive  qf  mere  wealth,  than  it 
otherwise  would  be. 

But  this  view  of  the  subject,  however  important,  is  by  no 
means  the  most  so  of  those  which  may  be  taken  of  it.  The 
object  of  all  this  toil  and  trouble — these  convulsive  strainings 
and  desperate  enterprises — is  after  all  the  acquisition  of  the 
means  of  subsistence — '  meat,  clothes,  and  fire,' — ^nothing  more. 
But  this,  though  a  legitimate  object  of  pursuit  in  life,  is  far  from 
being  the  only  one.  It  belongs  entirely  to  our  lower  and  animal 
nature.  The  intellectual  and  moral  principle — the  God  within 
the  mind — ^that  loftier  and  nobler  portion  of  our  being,  by  which 
we  hold  affinity  with  the  Sublime  Spirit  that  created  and  informs 
the  universe — ^tliis  too  has  its  claims ;  and  they* are  of  a  far 
more  urgent  and  momentous  character  than  those  of  the  other. 
But  how  can  we  do  them  justice  if  our  thoughts  are  forever 
absorbed,  without  the  interruption  of  a  day,  an  hour,  a  moment, 
in  the  routine  of  business  I  Our  intellectual  and  moral  nature 
is  refined  and  exaked  by  study,  solitary  musing,  or  instructive 
conversation  on  elevated  subjects — ^by  the  interchange  of  kind 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


166  Sunday  Mails.  [July, 

and  charitable  feelings — hj  the  contemplation  of  the  goodness 
of  the  Creator,  as  shewn  forth  in  the  majesty,  harmony,  and 
beauty  of  his  works.  If  we  mean  to  rise  in  the  scale  of  being 
above  the  tools  we  work  with,  or  the  brute  animals  that  we 
employ,  we  must  allow  ourselves  time  for  these  ennobling  and 
delightful  pursuits.  The  merchant  must  not  nail  himself  forever 
to  his  counter  like  a  bad  shilling ;  and  the  lawyer  should  remem- 
ber that  there  is  one  Supreme  Court  in  which  his  precedents 
will  lose  their  authority,  and  his  special  pleas  their  importance — 
that  there  is  one  case,  and  that  his  own,  which  he  must  finally 
argue  upon  its  merits.  Let  it  be  enough,  that  the  business  of 
the  world  is  pursued  with  unremitted  activity  and  perseverance 
firom  Monday  morning  to  Saturday  night.  When  Sunday 
comes,  let  the  weary  be  at  rest — ^let  the  laborer  of  every  kind 
cease  from  his  toil,  and  go  up  to  the  house  of  God,  not  to 
ruminate  upon  the  aflfairs  of  the  preceding  week,  or  to  lay  new 
plans  for  the  coming  one — but  to  yield  up  his  whole  soul  to  the 
current  of  lofty  contemplations  which  the  scene  and  the  service 
are  fitted  to  inspire— 4;o  feel  the  ravishing  influence  of  sacred 
song — ^to  indulge  the  devout  aspirations  that  lift  the  humble  spirit 
in  holy  trances  to  the  footstool  of  the  Almighty.  Nor  let  him 
think  it  too  hard,  if  in  the  mean  time  his  letters  remain  unread 
in  the  Post-Office.  They  will  not  grow  stale  before  tomorrow. 
His  communion  with  God  is  of  much  more  consequence  than 
his  correspondence  with  his  agent  or  consignee.  Whatever  the 
mere  man  of  business  may  think  of  it,  this  is,  after  all,  a  matter 
of  high  importance.  Unless  the  deepest  thinkers  have  erred  ia 
their  conclusions  fi:om  the  most  mature  experience  and  reflec- 
tion— unless  the  strongest  feelmgs  within  us  a^-e  all  delusion — 
unless  the  word  of  revelation  be  a  lie — it  is  certain  that  our 
mysterious  nature  is  only  one  of  the  transitory  forms  of  a  per- 
manent existence — ^that  our  lot  hereafter  will  be  determined 
forever  by  the  use  that  we  make  of  our  faculties  here.  '  As 
the  tree  falleth,  so  it  must  lie.'  If  we  voluntarily  degrade  our 
minds  in  this  world  to  the  level  of  the  brutes,  it  is  impossible 
that  we  can  start  in  the  race  of  eternity  with  so  much  advantage 
as  others,  who  have  done  their  best  to  strengthen,  exalt  and 
purify  the  intellectual  and  moral  principle  that  survives  the 
body.  These  are  at  once  glorious  and  fearful  truths.  They 
are  truths  which  the  greatest  sages  and  lawgivers  of  every  age 
from  Moses  to  Numa,  and  from  Numa  to  Franklin,  have  kept 
in  view  in  their  political  creations.     No  state  of  ancient  or 


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1830.]  Moore's  lAfe  of  Byron.  167 

modem  times  ever  obtained  any  real  stability,  of  which  the 
government  did  not  rest,  in  one  way  or  another,  on  the  steadfast 
and  immovable  rock  of  Religion.  Under  our  free  and  happy 
forms  of  political  constitution,  the  only  way  in  which  this  salu- 
tary principle  can  produce  its  beneficial  effects,  is  by  its  influ- 
ence on  public  opmion ;  and  however  much  we  may  regret  to 
differ  from  the  very  respectable  committee,  whose  report  we 
have  been  examining,  and  the  writers  who  concur  with  them, 
we  have  no  hesitation  in  expressing  our  conviction  that  the 
people  of  the  United  States  have  nothmg  better,  in  regard  to 
their  political  concerns,  to  hope  or  wish,  than  that  all  their 
agents  should  i)e  influenced  in  the  exercise  of  temporal  power  by 
religious  belief  This  would  not  bring  about,  as  die  writer 
above  alluded  to  supposes,  without  apparently  attaching  any 
very  distmct  meaning  to  tlie  terms,  a  union  of  Church  arid 
State;  but  it  would  procure  us  the  blessing  of  Providence— a 
wise,  liberal,  efficient,  and  above  all,  honest  administration  of 
the  government  m  all  its  branches — a  condition  of  general  and 
constantly  progressive  prosperity — ^and  to  sum  up  all  in  one 
word — ^peace. 

On  reviewing  the  above,  we  perceive  that  we  have  omitted 
to  notice  the  suggestion  thrown  out  in  the  Report,  that  this 
subject  comes  properly  within  the  jurisdiction  of  the  State 
Governments  ;  but  we  cannot  think  diat  the  committee  would 
themselves,  on  further  reflection,  maintain  this  doctrine.  The 
regulation  of  Post-Offices  and  Post-Roads  is  plainly  attributed 
by  the  letter  of  the  constitution  to  the  United  States. 


Art.  Vni. — Letters  and  Journals  of  Lord  Byron.      With 
Notices  of  his  Lnfe.     By  Thomas  Moore.     Vol.  I. 

When  Dr.  Clarke,  the  traveller,  was  entering  the  waters  of 
Egypt,  he  saw  the  corpse  of  one  who  had  fallen  m  the  batde 
of  the  Nile,  rise  from  its  grave  in  the  ocean,  and  move  slowly 
past  the  vessels  of  the  fleet.  It  was  with  somewhat  similar 
misgivings,  that  we  saw  the  resurrection  of  Lord  Byron  from 
the  waves  of  time,  which  soon  close  over  the  noblest  wreck, 
and  leave  no  trace  of  the  spot  where  it  went  down.  Unless 
there  were  something  new  to  be  said  in  his  favor,  it  seemed 
needless  to  bring  him  again  before  the  public  eye.    The  world 


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168  Mocre^i  lAfe  of  Byron.  [July, 

was  as  well  acquainted  with  his  frailties  as  with  his  transcendent 
powers ;  the  sentence  of  the  general  voice,  which  is  not  often 
reversed,  had  been  pronounced,  though  with  much  hesitation ; 
he  was  declared  entitled  to  a  place  among  the  great;  but, 
though  he  had  the  elements  of  a  noble  nature,  ho  one,  so  far 
as  we  know,  claimed  for  him  a  place  among  the  good.  We 
regretted,  therefore,  to  have  his  name  and  character  brought 
up  again  for  judgment,  unless  for  the  purpose  of  vindication. 
Such  is  not  the  effect,  whatever  may  have  been  the  design 
of  the  volume  before  us.  Mr.  Moore,  though  he  loved  and 
honored  Byron,  has,  in  thus  gratifying  the  public  cuiiosity, 
rendered  no  service  to  the  memory  of  his  frien^. 

We  are  disposed  to  rank  high  among  tlie  better  feelings  of 
our  nature  the  one  which  leads  us  to  spare  and  respect  the 
dead,  and  makes  us  indignant  at  every  attempt  to  draw  their 
frailties  to  the  light,  which  cannot  plead  necessity  in  its  justifi- 
cation. We  feel  grateful  to  those  who  have  delighted  us,  even 
when  they  have  done  so  witli  their  enchantments;  we  are 
beholden  to  them  for  whiling  away  some  of  the  drearier  hours 
of  existence ;  and  when  they  are  gone,  where  our  gratitude  or 
censure  can  no  longer  reach  them,  we  feel  as  if  their  memory 
were  left  in  our  charge,  to  be  guarded  from  wanton  condemna- 
tion. We  could  see  their  forms  under  the  dissectmg  knife  at 
Surgeons'  Hall  with  more  patience,  than  we  can  see  their 
reputation  made  the  sport  and  gain  of  mercenary  writers.  We 
know  that  the  Life  of  Johnson  is  a  standing  excuse  for  authors 
of  this  description,  though  we  see  not  why ;  for  Boswell  would 
sooner  have  cut  off  his  hand,  than  have  wUfuUy  disparaged  his 
*  illustrious  friend ;'  and  through  all  his  defects  of  judgment 
and  style  his  great  subject  towers,  like  Westminster  Abbey, 
whose  melancholy  grandeur  is  not  destroyed  by  the  meanness 
of  the  objects  round  it.  In  his  work,  there  is  no  violation  of 
that  sacred  law  of  human  feeling,  which,  like  the  gentle  process 
of  nature,  seals  up  the  grave,  and  covers  it  with  verdure  and 
flowers.  But  this  law  has  been  sadly  broken  in  the  case  of 
Byron;  a  man,  who,  with  all  his  faults — ^and  we  have  no  dis- 
position to  deny  them — ^was  never  wantbg  in  generosity  to  his 
firiends.  Some  of  them  have  preyed  on  his  memory  like  vul- 
tures ;  from  the  religious  Mr.  Dallas,  who  was  dissatisfied  with 
the  gift  of  several  rich  copy-rights,  down  to  Leigh  Hunt,  who 
intimated  his  independence  of  the  commonplace  opinion,  which 
insists  on  gratitude  for  golden  favors.     Others,  also,  of  the 


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1830.]  Moore's  Life  of  Byron.  169 

strange  companions  among  Avhom  the  chances  of  his  life  and 
the  waywardness  of  his  temper  threw  him,  retailed  his  most 
unguarded  words  and  actions,  subjecting  him  to  a  scrutiny 
which  few  men's  lives  and  language  will  bear.  But  the  public 
feeling,  which  is  not  apt  to  be  permanently  misled,  had  settled 
down  into  the  conviction,  ihat  Byron,  with  all  his  failings,  was 
to  be  admired  and  pitied  as  well  as  censured ;  that  he  was  an 
unfortunate  man  of  genius,  made  up  originally  of  strong  powers 
and  passions ;  obliged  to  pass  tlirough  the  double  trial  of  pros- 
perity and  misfortune,  both  perhaps  equally  severe;  and  by 
these  disturbing  forces,  drawn  aside  from  the  orbit,  in  which, 
with  a  happier  destiny,  he  might  still  have  been  shining  as 
brilliantly  as  any  great  light  of  the  world. 

We  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  rank  the  writer  of  this  work 
among  literary  vampyres,  nor  to  complain  of  this  publication. 
In  his  case,  something  of  this  kind  was  necessary ;  it  was  under- 
stood that  Lord  Byron  made  him  the  residuary  legatee  of  his 
infirmities  and  errors,  leaving  in  his  charge  a  manuscript  jour- 
nal, which,  it  was  said,  Mr.  Moore  thought  proper  to  destroy. 
Such  was  the  prevailing  impression,  whatever  the  facts  may 
have  been ;  and  this  act,  dictated  doubtless  by  the  most  honor- 
able feelings,  was  justiy  thought  to  bear  severely  on  the  character 
of  his  noble  friend.  It  gave  indulgence  and  encouragement  to 
the  most  unfavorable  imaginations ;  it  was  declaring  that  the 
pages  on  which  Byron  poured  out  his  thoughts  and  feelings, 
were  only  worthy  of  the  flames.  It  was  expected,  that,  if  this 
registry  was  not  so  thoroughly  disgraceful,  Mr.  Moore  would 
come  forward  to  declare  it ;  he  has  accordingly  done  so,  and 
given  us  parts  of  this  same  journal,  recovered  from  its  ashes, 
with  various  original  letters;  he  has,  so  far  as  was  possible, 
made  Byron  the  historian  of  his  own  life,  giving  his  own  senti- 
ments in  his  own  words;  he  feels  obliged,  however,  to  caution 
us  against  being  misled  by  the  poet's  statements,  because,  with 
a  strange  inverted  ambition,  he  took  pleasure  in  representing 
himself  as  worse  than  he  really  was.  This  is  no  doubt  true ; 
but  one  may  doubt  whether  it  will  do  much  to  exalt  Byron 
above  the  level  where  he  chose  to  stand ;  this  self-misrepre- 
sentation would  imply  some  want  of  reverence  for  truth,  and 
it  would  seem  as  if  the  moral  sentiment  must  be  not  a  little 
corrupted  when  a  man  glories  in  his  shame.  Still,  it  would 
be  wrong  to  lay  much  stress  on  these  avowals,  which,  wherever 
they  appear,  are  pardy  jesting  and  partly  penitential ;  meant  to 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  22 


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170  MooreU  lift  of  Byron.  [Juty* 

bear  either  aspect,  as  the  case  may  be :  the  language  of  con- 
fession is  apt  to  be  exaggerated ;  jests  are  not  to  be  weighed 
like  scripture ;  and  as  most  men  in  their  confessions  meant  for 
the  public  eye,  with  the  contrition  alluded  to  by  Chesterfield, 
confess  themselves  guilty  of  what  they  consider  the  cardinal 
virtues,  there  are  naturally  no  bounds  to  their  humiliation. 

Mr.  Moore  does  not  attempt  to  give  any  regular  examination 
of  Byron's  character,  aware,  perhaps,  that  tlie  thing  was  impos- 
sible ;  for,  if  by  character  be  meant  the  decided  leaning  of  the 
habits  and  feelings  towards  good  or  evil,  it  would  be  no  more 
correct  to  speak  of  his  character,  than  of  the  bearing  of  a  vessel 
drifting  on  the  sea ;  or  if  we  mean  by  character,  the  general 
impression  received  by  one  who  reads  his  history,  it  is  evident 
that  such  an  one  could  gather  no  single  impression.  Every 
change  in  Byron's  life  was  a  new  experiment  or  adventure 
suggested  by  the  moment's  whims ;  each  new  deed  contradicted 
the  rep6rt  of  the  one  that  went  before  it ;  like  the  mercury  in 
the  weather-glass,  he  varied  with  the  changes  of  the  aii\  Some- 
times he  rose  to  a  noble  height  of  virtue ;  then  sunk  low  in 
degradation:  sometimes  he  breatlied  out  noble  sentiment  in 
inspired  lajiguage ;  then  profaned  his  lips  with  the  dialect  of 
hell :  sometimes  he  practised  a  hermit's  self-denial ;  then  gave 
himself  up  to  appetite  and  passion.  The  very  climate  of  the 
country  where  he  happened  to  be,  seemed  to  spread  its  in5,u- 
ence  over  him.  All  his  manliness  melted  away  into  effeminacy 
under  an  Italian  sun ;  all  the  strength  of  his  mind  and  heart 
seemed  to  revive  among  the  living  shores  and  mountains  of 
Greece ;  and  this,  while  it  shows  that  he  had  great  and  active 
energies  within,  proves  also,  that,  like  others  who  want  princi- 

Eles  of  action,  he  needed  something  external  to  excite  them, 
a  him,  these  principles,  and  the  unconquerable  will,  were 
entirely  wanting ;  the  rough  hands  of  others  struck  out  die  fire 
from  his  soul.  His  inconsistencies  arising  from  this  cause, 
are  equaUy  perplexmg  to  his  enemies  and  admu-ers;  each 
falter  in  making  up  their  judgment  \  the  former  hesitate  in  the 
midst  of  their  sternest  condemnation,  conscious  that  all  was 
not  evil,  and  doubtful,  whether  they  are  not  more  just  to  his 
vices  than  his  virtues ;  while  his  admirers,  in  the  moments  of 
their  warmest  enthusiasm,  find  recollections  stealing  over  their 
minds  which  fill  them  with  indignant  shame ;  they,  too,  doubt 
sometimes  whether  they  are  not  misled  by  their  reverence  for 
Genius,  and  hardly  know  whether  they  feel  most  sorrow  for  its 
perversion  or  wonder  at  its  power. 


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1830.]  Moore's  Life  of  Byron.  171 

His  biographer  was  evidently  perplexed  with  this  difficulty, 
and  has  therefore  left  the  private  character  of  Byron  to  be 
inferred  from  facts  and  letters,  with  here  and  there  some  pages 
of  comment  and  explanation.  He  does  not  brmg  the  subject 
to  any  full  discussion,  but  praises  his  friend  wherever  he  can 
do  so  with  justice,  and  defends  him  where  his  conduct  seems 
to  require  defending.  His  remarks  are  written  with  more  than 
his  usual  simplicity;  in  fact,  with  very  little  of  the  glowing 
ornament  in  which  his  other  writings  abound;  but,  notwith- 
standing this  improvement,  die  work  is  not  likely  to  be  a  favorite 
with  either  class  of  readers.  The  poet's  admirers  will  thmk 
that  more  discretion  should  have  been  used  in  selecting  private 
letters,  and  that  the  follies  of  his  youth  should,  like  those  of 
others,  be  forgotten  in  the  brilliant  efforts  of  his  later  years ; 
and  will  wonder  why  the  biographer  could  not  communicate  to 
oth^^  the  feelings  with  which,  according  to  his  own  account, 
his  friend's  talents  and  virtues  inspired  him.  On  the  other 
hand,  a  large  class  will  accuse  Mr.  Moore,  not  only  of  sup- 
pressing, but  of  making  rather  too  light  of  the  poet's  mis- 
deeds; of  treating  as  a  trifling  offence  m  him,  what  would 
have  been  severely  visited  upon  any  other ;  as  in  the  case  of 
Insbrothery  for  example  (p.  118),  they  will  charge  him  witli 
making  the  flower-gardens  of  poetry  a  sanctuary  for  trans- 
gressors of  moral  and  social  law.  Both  these  faults,  incon- 
sistent with  each  other,  as  they  seem,  will  be  alleged  against 
him.  On  the  whole,  the  efiect  of  his  book  will  be  to  lower  the 
character  of  Byron  in  the  public  esteem.  No  one  can  charge 
him  with  a  want  of  partiality  to  his  subject,  and  yet,  with  every 
disposition  to  cover  the  poet's  errors,  he  finds  much  that  he 
cannot  explain  away.  He  readily  acknowledges  his  friend's 
follies,  with  a  candor  for  which  none  of  Byron's  admirers  will 
thank  him ;  for,  in  the  common  estimation,  follies  bring  one 
into  contempt  much  sooner  than  vices ;  men  can  find  something 
great  and  commanding  in  the  one,  while  it  is  impossible  to 
respect  the  other. 

The  literary  fate  of  Byron  is  a  remarkable  example  of  the 
indulgence  shown  to  men  of  genius.  The  world  is  apt  to  be 
rigid  enough  in  its  exactions  from  others,  but  it  offers  them  a 
perpetual  absolution  for  all  offences,  even  for  their  waste  of  those 
powers  by  which  it  wishes  and  hopes  to  be  delighted ;  it  receives 
these  spendthrifts  of  talentwidi  unwearied  forgiveness,  however 
far  they  may  have  wandered ;  it  permits  them,  like  conquerors, 


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172  Moore^s  lAfe  of  Byron.  [July, 

to  trample  on  all  rights  and  laws ;  it  finds  something  beautiful 
in  their  very  scorn ;  nations  worship  them  in  the  blaze  of  their 
fame,  and  weep  with  mournful  sensibility  over  their  fall.  We 
rejoice  to  see  that  the  world  can  transfer  its  entliusiasm  in  any 
degree  from  military  to  intellectual  greatness,  and  only  desire 
that  it  may  be  careful  in  selecting  its  objects  of  adoration.  In 
the  unguarded  moments  of  rapture  it  may  place  its  honors  on 
unworthy  brows,  and  thus  hold  out  an  encouragement  to  all 
kinds  of  perversion.  Intellectual  men  should  read  their  duty 
as  well  as  triumph  in  a  nation's  eyes ;  and  whenever,  in  their 
writings,  they  pass  the  limits  of  decency  and  moral  restraint, 
instead  of  doing  it  with  the  confidence  that  great  errors  wiH  be 
pardoned  to  great  genius,  should  feel  themselves  driven  back 
by  a  lightning  glance  of  indignation.  When  the  power  of  the 
mind  is  growing  so  fast,  it  is  of  immense  importance  to  make 
the  feeling  of  literary  obligation  fii-m  and  strong,  and  to  enforce 
it  with  an  authority  which  will  neither  be  defied  nor  resisted ; 
and  this  can  be  done  without  difficulty,  because  men  of  taste, 
and  poets  more  than  others,  have  their  intellectual  being  in  the 
world's  good  opinion.  The  poet,  more  than  all,  needs  this 
restraint  of  general  opinion.  The  historian  makes  a  slow  and 
patient  impression  on  others; 'the  force  of  the  orator,  except 
in  subjects  of  unusual  interest,  is  felt  in  a  space  hardly  broader 
than  the  thunder-cloud  of  the  storm ;  but  the  works  of  Byron, 
like  those  of  Scott,  not  confined  to  tlie  bounds  of  their  language, 
have  been  read,  we  have  no  doubt,  by  the  northern  light  at 
Tornea,  and  by  the  pine-torch  under  the  Rocky  Mountains; 
and  in  all  the  various  regions  between  made  the  wayfaring 
forget  tlieir  weariness,  and  the  lonely  their  solitude,  bearing 
enjoyment  to  a  million  of  hearts  at  once,  as  if  by  supernatural 
power.  No  human  power  can  rival  that  of  the  great  poet  of 
the  day,  and,  should  it  become  wild  and  lawless,  no  despotism 
under  which  the  earth  sufiers  and  mourns,  is  half  so  fatal  to 
the  interests  of  men. 

Perhaps  there  never  was  one,  to  whom  the  right  direction 
which  the  world  thus  has  it  in  its  power  to  give,  was  more  im- 
portant than  to  Byron  ;  for  as  m^y  appear  in  what  we  shall  say 
of  him,  he  was  remarkably  deficient  in  self-dependence,  ex- 
cept when  wrought  up  with  passion ;  his  irresolute  judgment 
was  strongly  contrasted  with  his  genius.  Powerful,  indeed,  he 
was ;  he  came  not  at  a  time  when  the  field  of  success  was 
open ;  perhaps  there  has  not  been  a  period,  when  a  greater 


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.1830.]  Moore's  Life  of  Byron.  173 

niHnber  of  bright  stars  were  met  in  the  heavens.  CanipbeH 
was  shining  in  the  pure  brilliancy  of  his  stainless  fame  ;  Sou-' 
they  was  pouring  out  his  wild  and  beautiful  epics  with  a  happy 
disregard  of  party  censure  ;  Wordsworth  was  pleading,  as  he 
believed,  for  neglected  nature,  with  a  gentle  and  unregarded 
voice ;  Moore  was  reposing,  Uke  an  eastern  sovereign  in  his 
sultry  halls ;  at  this  moment,  apparently  most  inauspicious  for 
his  rising,  did  this  new  and  eccentric  orb  shoot  from  the  hori- 
zon to  the  upper  sky,  and  in  every  step  of  his  ascension  held 
men  breathless  with  admiration,  till  his  brightness  '  was  changed 
into  blood.'  But  he  seemed  to  take  a  perverse  delight  in 
trifling  with  his  own  power,  and  showing  that  he  valued  an 
imagination  as  splendid  as  ever  was  lighted  in  the  soul,  no 
more  than  a  camera  lucida  or  magic  lantern ;  and  the  world 
still  deafened  him  with  applause,  even  when  he  poured  out 
strains  of  sensuality  in  music  worthy  of  an  angel's  tongue.  Noth- 
ing would  convince  men  of  his  dishonor ;  they  still  believed  in 
his  integrity,  as  they  insisted  on  regarding  Napoleon  as  a  friend 
of  freedom,  long  after  he  had  worn  the  crown.  Let  it  not  be 
thought  strange,  that  we  associate  these  two  names ;  for  great 
as  Napoleon  was,  Byron  was  absolute  and  undisputed  sove- 
reign of  the  heait — a  region  in  which  the  other  had  no  power. 
Byron  could  ^end  to  millions  the  highest  enjoyment,  with  a  few 
rapid  touches  of  his  celestial  pen  ;  and  while  the  throne  of  the 
oppressor  is  broken,  he  still  exerts  a  mastery  which  grows  and 
widens  as  the  brass  and  marble  decay.  They  were  not  wholly 
unlike  in  their  destinies ;  deluded  by  the  reverence  of  men, 
each  became  a  suicide  of  his  own  welfare  ;  and,  remembering 
that  they  are  great  examples  to  all  future  ambition,  we  regret 
the  less  that  they  perished  as  tliey  did ;  though  each  might 
have  left  a  glorious  name,  the  one  as  the  bravest  warrior  that 
ever  fought  the  battles  of  freedom,  the  other  as  the  greatest 
poet  of  his  age. 

Any  observer  of  human  nature  may  be  interested  in  the  fact, 
that  men  are  always  most  zealous  in  tlieir  enthusiasm  for  char- 
acters, which  are  somewhat  doubtful,  as  well  as  great.  The 
admirers  of  a  man  like  Washington  criticise  him  vi  ith  freedom, 
knowing  that  he  can  only  gain  by  discussion  ;  but  the  partisans 
of  eminent  characters  like  those  I  have  mentioned,  as  if  con- 
scious that  any  opening  for  inquiry  would  overthrow  their  favor- 
ite passion,  meet  every  suggestion  of  the  kind,  with  an  outcry 
precisely  resembling  that  with  which  the  worm-eaten  govern' 


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174  Moore's  Life  of  Byron.  P^ly, 

ments  of  Europe  welcome  every  proposal  of  reform.  This 
fervor  is  not  so  flattering  to  such  men  as  is  generally  imagined; 
it  implies  that  their  admhers  are  far  from  being  persuaded  of 
their  real  exceUence,  though  they  are  resolute  in  maintaining 
their  own  opinion.  This  is  illustrated  by  the  passion  for 
Byron.  When  he  first  became  generally  known,  which  was 
not  till  after  his  first  cantos  of  Childe  Harold  appeared,  his  name 
was  surrounded  with  a  colored  cloud  of  romantic  associations; ; 
and  perceiving  the  charm  to  be  derived  firom  the  slight  mys- 
tery then  resting  on  his  condition  and  character,  he  kept  up 
the  allusion  by  all  the  means  in  his  power ;  new  portraits  of 
himself  in  striking  attitudes  and  drapery,  were  perpetuaUy  held 
before  the  public  eye ;  and  by  these  means  he  inspired  a  deep 
feeling,  not  precisely  of  respect  or  regard,  but  of  something 
more  tenacious  than  either ;  so  that  now  his  admirers  bold  fast 
their  early  opinions  of  him,  as  a  lover  clings  to  his  first  impres- 
sions ;  determined  to  maintain  them  right  or  wrong,  and  resent- 
mg  as  a  personal  affront  every  aUempt  to  exhibit  his  chu^acter 
in  its  true  light.  This  book  will  give  an  unpleasant  shock  to 
their  imaginations ;  but  at  the  same  time,  they  have  seen  bis 
character  in  a  glass  so  darkly — ^there  is  so  little  distinctness  in 
their  conceptions  of  him,  that  like  the  spirits  in  Milton's  battle, 
his  existence  camiot  be  endangered  by  any  mortal  blow — he  is 
a  vision  of  fancy  in  their  minds — too  unsubstantial  to  be  meas- 
ured ;  their  opinion  of  him  is  not  a  judgment,  but  a  feeling, 
which  neither  argument  nor  evidence  can  overthrow. 

But  there  are  otliers,  who  never  have  thought  it  necessary  to 
give  up  their  hearts  to  the  great  poet  of  the  day — ^who  have 
neither  taken  part  with  Byron  nor  against  him ;  to  them,  this 
book  will  wear  a  very  different  aspect ;  they  will  receive  it  as 
the  deliberate  testimony  of  a  friend,  of  course  as  partial  as  truth 
and  justice  will  allow,  and  will  see  with  some  surprise,  that  the 
strongest  feelings  awakened  by  it  are  those  of  sorrow  and  shame. 
It  is  painful  to  see  this  disproportion  between  the  moral  and 
intellectual  characters  of  distinguished  men ;  and  though  history 
might  prepare  them  for  such  disappointment,  they  are  always 
dismayed  to  find  those,  to  whom  heaven  has  been  most  liberal 
of  its  gifts,  unfaithful  in  the  use  of  them.  Their  kind  feeling 
will  be  severely  tried  by  this  Life  of  Byron ;  they  will  say  of 
his  mind,  as  he  did  of  Greece,  that  it  is  strange  that  when 
Nature  has  formed  it  as  if  for  the  residence  of  the  gods,  man 
should  take  a  mad  delight  in  making  a  wilderness  and  a  ruin* 


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1830.]  Moore's  Life  of  Byron.  175 

For  without  overstating  his  defects,  it  is  tnie,  that  they  will 
look  in  vain  through  this  work  for  any  traces  of  a  sense  of  duty, 
either  in  the  use  of  his  social  privileges  or  his  intellectual  powers ; 
they  will  see  too  much  levity  and  profaneness,  without  wit  or 
humor  to  cover  its  grossness ;  they  will  see  somethmg  offensive 
at  times  in  the  style  of  the  biographer's  apologies  for  him,  when 
they  are  made,  not  as  if  necessary,  but  in  deference  to  common 
opinion ;  they  will  find,  that  he  went  through  the  world  at  the 
wind^s  pleasure,  and  that  his  path,  though  occasionally  lighted 
up  with  flashes  of  good  feeling,  was  not  such  as  his  friends  love 
to  remember.  In  the  natural  regret  for  this  waste  of  life  and 
talent,  they  may  chance  to  visit  his  memory  with  even  more 
severity  than  it  deserves ;  and  therefore  we  take  the  opportu- 
nity of  referring  them  to  one  or  two  circumstances,  without 
wMch  his  merits  cannot  be  understood,  and  which  will  show, 
that  with  all  his  apparent  felicity  of  birth  and  fortune,  he  was 
more  to  be  pitied  than  condemned. 

The  chief  misfortune  of  Byron  was  his  want  of  early  kind* 
ness  and  instruction.  The  mind  resembles  a  garden,  in  which 
flowers  and  fruit  must  be  cultivated,  or  weeds  will  grow ;  and 
few  could  be  found,  even  among  vagrants  and  outcasts,  more 
unfortunate  than  Bynxi  in  the  guardians  of  his  tender  years. 
His  fether  was  a  worthless  libertine,  who,  after  the  death  of 
his  first  victim,  married  Miss  Gordon,  the  poet's  mother,  with 
a  view  to  her  prc^rty,  which  was  large,  but  soon  wasted.  His 
great  uncle,  from  whom  he  inherited  his  title,  was  a  man  of 
savage  and  unsocial  character,  who  was  believed  to  have  mur- 
dered a  gentleman  in  a  quarrel.  With  him,  however,  he  had  no 
mtercouTse,  nor  even  with  his  father,  who  was  soon  separated 
firom  his  wiife ;  so  that  he  was  wholly  abandoned  to  his  mother's 
care;  and  a  more  injudicious  guide  of  a  youth  so  wild  and 
passionate,  could  not  have  been  any  where  found.  It  has  been 
generally  flioiYght  that  she  was  fondly  indiilgent ;  but  the  present 
work  eftectuaUy  clears  her  memory  from  any  such  imputation : 
she  was  a  woman  of  violent  temper,  and  rendered  still  more 
irritable  by  her  husband's  treatment,  though  she  seems  to  have 
loved  him  afiectionately  after  all  her  wrongs.  If  to  leave  her 
child  ungoverned  was  indulgence,  she  was  guilty;  but  it  could 
not.  be  expected,  that,  having  no  rule  over  her  own  spirit,  she 
should  be  equal  to  the  harder  duty  of  governing  her  son- 
Neglect,  however,  was  not  the  worst  oflfence  for  which  she  is 
answerable ;  she  was  the  autlior  of  that  bitterness  of  spirit,  which 


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176  Moore^s  Life  of  Byron.  [July> 

made  him,  though  at  some  times  mild  and  affectionate,  at  others 
so  sullen  and  ferocious ;  for  it  seems  that  she  forgot  herself  so 
far  as  to  taunt  him  with  that  sHght  lameness,  which  caused  him 
so  much  misery  in  his  after  years.  Litde  do  they  know  of 
human  nature  who  wonder  at  his  feeling ;  the  truth  is,  that  in 
almost  any  young  person,  such  vulgar  allusions  to  a  personal 
defect,  however  trifling,  will  awaken  an  excessive  sensibility 
amounting  to  horror :  ail  the  self-torturing  energy  of  the  soul  will 
be  concentrated  on  tliat  single  point ;  and  if  the  wound  ever  heals 
in  the  coldness  of  manhood  or  age,  it  leaves  a  quick  and  burning 
scar.  1  his  disease  of  the  affections  extended  throughout  his 
mind  and  heart ;  and  to  this  we  are  bound  to  attribute  that 
jealousy  which  occasionally  seemed  like  madness:  and  that 
unsparing  resentment  of  injury  w^hich  sometimes  raged  like  a 
flame  of  fire.  Knowing  tJbis,  we  cannot  wonder  that  he  re- 
garded his  mother  without  affection,  alone  as  they  were  in  the 
world.  At  the  same  time  he  discovers  in  his  letters  a  respect 
and  attention,  which  clear  him  from  all  reproach  on  tliis  subject : 
she  could  expect  nothing  more  of  him ;  for  love  is  the  price 
of  love.  Neither  were  the  defects  of  his  domestic  education 
repaired  by  schools.  His  mother's  poverty  prevented  her  doing 
him  justice  in  this  respect,  and  he  was  passed  from  hand  to 
hand  with  a  view  to  save  expense  rather  than  give  instruction. 
None  of  his  various  masters  had  time  to  become  acquainted 
with  his  mind ;  and  without  such  an  acquaintance  with  the  tastes 
and  powers  of  the  young,  teachers  are  often  like  unskilful  gar- 
deners, who  destroy  by  watering  in  the  sunshine,  those  blossoms 
whose  habit  is  to  close  in  preparation  for  a  shower.  None  of 
them  retained  their  charge  long  enough  to  gain  an  influence 
over  him.  Altogether  he  had  none  to  le?.n  upon,  and  no  wor- 
thy object  for  his  affections  to  cling  to,  which  is  one  of  the 
greatest  wants  of  the  young  and  tender  heart.  This  sufl[iciendy 
accounts  for  many  of  his  faults ;  it  explains  where  his  careless 
desolation  began  :  it  shows  why  he  placed  so  litde  confidence 
in  the  merit  and  affection  of  others,  why  he  was  so  unbelieving 
in  their  virtue,  and  afterwards  so  indifferent  to  his  own.  It 
accounts  for  that  misanthropy  which  some  suppose  was  affected, 
but  which  there  is  every  reason  to  suppose  was  smcere :  for, 
much  as  he  depended  on  others,  ardently  as  he  thirsted  for  their 
applause,  still,  like  all  others  who  have  no  faith  in  human  virtue, 
he  held  them  in  light  esteem.  Those  who  cannot  live  without 
the  world's  flattery,  sometimes  despise  the  incense-bearers; 


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1830.]  Moore^s  Life  of  Byron.  177 

and  the  person  who  depends  least  upon  others,  is  not  the 
misanthrope,  but  he  who  takes  a  manly  and  generous  interest 
in  all  around  him.  Thus  melancholy  and  disheartening  was 
his  childhood.  Instead  of  being  the  gallant  bark  that  Gray 
describes,  standing  bravely  out  to  the  summer  sea,  it  was  the 
one  *  built  in  the  eclipse  and  rigged  with  curses  dark,'  whose 
destiny  was  foreseen  by  the  thoughtful  before  it  left  the  shore. 

It  may  be  said,  that  he  might  have  done  like  many  others 
whose  parents  have  been  unfaithful,  and  who,  by  this  misfor- 
tune, have  been  driven  to  that  self-education,  which  Gibbon 
considers  more  important  than  any  other.  But  Lord  Byron 
was  most  unfavorably  situated :  this  self-discipline  is  seldom 
enforced  with  vigor  or  success  without  the  pressure  of  circum- 
stances, or  the  strong  leaning  of  ambition  combining  with  a 
sense  of  duty.  But  Byron  was  above  the  reach  of  that  neces- 
sity, which  drives  so  many  to  great  and  fortunate  exertions. 
Though  poor  in  childhood,  when  his  wants  were  few,  he  had 
before  him  what  seemed  a  prospect  of  unbounded  wealth ;  and 
the  same  expectation  of  rank  and  honor  made  him  insensible 
to  the  call  of  intellectual  glory.  He  knew  that  his  title  would 
secure  him  respect,  and  in  this  confidence  was  unambitious  of 
any  thing  higher ;  it  seemed  to  be  tlie  brightest  pomt  in  all  his 
visions  of  future  greatness.  Those,  who,  bom  in  humble  life, 
feel  the  stirrings  of  ambition,  and  have  no  path  to  eminence 
open  but  such  as  they  clear  with  their  own  hands,  enter  upon 
the  work  with  a  vigor  which  at  once  gives  and  strengthens 
character,  and  ensures  success.  Byron,  on  the  contrary,  be- 
lieved from  his  childhood  that  he  should  be  respected  for  his 
rank  alone  :  it  was  not  till  he  had  reached  thia  great  object  of 
desire,  and  found  how  barren  it  was,  that  he  seemed  to  wish 
or  hope  for  any  other  distinction. 

The  effect  of  this  want  of  education  in  mind  and  character, 
may  be  seen  in  almost  every  part  of  his  life ;  even  in  those 
illuminated  pages  which  display  the  triumphs  of  his  genius. 
He  never  seems  to  have  had  the  least  confidence  in  his  own  taste 
or  judgment  with  respect  to  his  own  productions  or  those  of 
others.  We  find  him  on  his  return  from  his  first  voyage,  talk- 
ing with  delight  of  an  imitation  of  Horace,  which  his  biographer 
is  too  conscientious  to  praise,  and  at  the  same  time,  hardly 

Erevailed  upon  by  the  most  earnest  intreaty,  to  publish  Childe 
larold,  the  work  on  which  his  fame  is  built..    A  taste  of  this 
kind  is  as  much  formed  by  society,  as  by  reading  and  medita- 
voL,  XXXI. — NO,  68.  23 


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178  Moore^s  Life  rf  Byron.  [July, 

tion  ;  but  he  had  acquired  a  bashful  reserve  m  hb  childhood, 
which  prevented  his  reading  the  eyes  or  minds  of  others  ;  and 
yet,  as  the  public  opinion  is  the  tribunal  to  which  all  must  bow, 
he  never  felt  confidence  in  his  opinions  till  they  were  confirm- 
ed by  the  general  voice.     In  his  judgment  of  others,  he  seemed 
governed  by  the  partiality  of  tlic  moment.    We  find  him  speaking 
with  delight  of  Coleridge's  Christabel,  or  praising  Leigh  Hunt's 
affectations,  which  he  was  the  first  to  ridicule  shortly  after.    The 
same  wavering  appears  in  his  judgment  of  the  English  Bards 
and  Scotch  Reviewers — a  work  which  he  afterwards  recanted 
for  no  other  reason  than  tliat  his  humor  had  altered.     The 
entire  history  of  this  work  of  wholesale  vengeance  illustrates 
the  indecision  of  his  njind.     In  his  first  indignation  at  an  attack 
which  was  certainly  enough  to  irritate  a  meeker  spirit,  he  forth- 
with drew  his  sword  and  commenced  an  indiscriminate  slaughter 
of  all  about  him;  but  as  soon  as  the  moment's  madness  had 
passed  away,  he  began  to  bind  up  their  wounds,  at  the  same 
time  exulting  that  he  had  made  them  feel  his  power.     But  the 
want  of  every  thing  like  discipline  was  more  plainly  manifested 
in  his  character ;  it  was  left  to  itself;  so  far  as  he  ever  bad  a 
character  it  was  formed  by  the  natural  and  wild  growth  of  his 
feelings  and  passions.     These  feelings  and  passions  were  suf- 
fered to  grow  and  take  tlieir  own  direction,  without  the  least 
care  or  control  from  any  hand.     What  affectionate  instruction 
might  have  done,  we  do  not  know  ; — the  experiment  was  never 
tried ;  he  was  left  to  his  own  guidance,  and  by  feeding  on  ex- 
travagant hopes,  he  prepared  himself  to  be  hurt  and  disappointed 
by  the  ordinary  changes  of  life.     Never  having  been  taught 
what  to  expect  and  what  he  might  reasonably  demand  from 
others,  he  received  every  slight  neglect  as  an  injury,  put  the 
worst  construction  on  every  word  and  deed,  and  required  of 
the  world  what  it  never  gave  to  any  mortal  man.     In  Scotland, 
his  fancy  was  excited  widi  tales  and  examples  of  high  ancestral 
pride  ; — ^rank  became,  in  his  eyes,  something  sacred  and  com- 
manding ;  and  there  was  enough  in  the  history  of  the  Byrons 
to  encourage  his  loftiness  of  feeling ;  but  he  was  mortified  as 
he  cs^me  forward  into  life,  to  find  that  the  respect  paid  to  it  was 
hollow  and  unmeaning ;  he  was  received  into  the  House  of  Lords 
with  as  little  ceremony  as  at  Eton  or  Harrow ;  and  this,  though 
probably  a  thing  of  course,  was  resented  by  him  as  an  unex- 
ampled wrong,  for  which  he  insulted  the  Lord  ChanceUor  at 
the  time,  and  afterwards  impaled  Lord  Carlisle  in  various 


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1830.]  Moare^s  Life  of  Byron,  179 

satirical  h'nes ;  though  the  only  crime  of  the  former  was,  that 
he  did  not  dispense  with  legal  forms  in  his  favor,  and  Lord 
Carlisle's  transgression,  that  he  did  not  come  at  a  call.  He 
was  still  more  painfully  taught  how  litde  could  be  claimed  on 
the  score  of  rank,  by  the  attack  of  the  EdinbiBrgh  Review. 
He  could  not  plead  privilege  before  that  bar ;  a  republican  from 
the  United  States  could  not  have  been  treated  with  less  cere- 
mony tlian  the  Englisli  Baron ;  and  it  appeared  in  evidence, 
that  with  a  regard  for  principle,  of  which  that  work  has  given 
more  than  one  example,  it  abused  the  poetry  for  the  sake  of 
the  man,  diough  his  rank  was  all  the  provocation.  He  was 
also  constantly  wounded  in  another  tender  point — ^his  friend- 
ship. With  him  friendship  was  a  passion,  cherished  for  reasons 
which  he  would  have  found  it  hard  to  assign ;  in  its  objects, 
there  was  no  particular  merit,  save  what  was  generously  given 
them  by  his  active  imagination ;  his  little  foot-page  and  his 
Athenian  proteg^  were  of  this  description ;  yet  he  expected  of 
these  and  others,  selected  with  even  le^s  discretion,  all  the 
delicacy  and  ardor  of  attachment,  which  might  belong  to 
superior  natures.  He  was  of  course  disappomted ;  and  by  a 
process  of  abstraction  found  sufficient  reasons  to  libel  and 
detest  mankind.  Thus  in  almost  every  year  some  favorite 
charm  was  broken — some  vision  dispelled  ;  he  came  forward 
into  life,  like  one  seeing  from  afar  the  family  mansion  of  his 
race,  with  its  windows  kindled  by  the  setting  sun — and  who, 
as  he  approached  it,  looking  for  life  and  hospitality  within — 
found  with  dismay,  as  he  entered  the  gate,  that  all  was  dark, 
cold,  and  deserted. 

Byron's  melancholy  seems  to  have  been  owing  to  these  pecu- 
liar circumstances  of  his  life.  Bright  hopes  and  painful  dis- 
appointments followed  each  other  in  rapid  succession  ;  the 
disappointment  being  that  which  attends  the  gratified  desire — 
of  all  others,  the  most  difficult  to  bear.  He  was  his  own 
master,  and  had  all  that  men  commonly  wish  for  ;  he  was  thus 
in  a  condition  where,  so  far  as  resources  of  happiness  w*ere 
concerned,  he  had  nothing  more  to  hope  from  the  world,  and 
that  state  in  which  any  change  must  be  for  the  worse,  is  found 
by  experience  to  be  more  intolerable  than  that  in  which  any 
change  must  be  for  the  better.  How  far  his  depression  was 
owing  to  any  thing  constitutional,  we  cannot  attempt  to  say, 
being  less  acquainted  with  the  nerves  of  poets  than  with  those 
of  reviewers ;  but  we  believe  that  there  are  few  cases  in  which 


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180  Moored  lAfi  of  Byron,  [July, 

the  evil  spirit  may  not  be  successfully  resisted  by  a  resolute 
will.  Unfortunately,  those  unused  to  trouble,  real  or  imaginary, 
become  desperate  ^at  once,  and  are  ready  to  make  trial  of  any 
remedy,  to  drive  the  moment's  uneasmess  away ;  by  dissipation 
and  violent  Excitement  they  remove  its  pressure  for  a  time — 
but  as  often  as  it  is  lifted,  it  returns  with  heavier  weight ;  and 
at  last,  like  the  cottager  who  bums  the  thatch  and  rafters  of  his 
cabin  to  relieve  the  cold  of  a  winter  day,  they  are  left  without 
the  least  chance  of  shelter ;  to  supply  the  vacancy  of  hope, 
they  consume  the  materials  of  happiness  at  once,  and  then 
travel  from  desolation  to  desolation,  having  no  resource  left, 
but  to  become  miserable  self-destroyers  of  their  own  peace, 
character,  and  not  unfrequendy  lives. 

We  regret  to  find  the  vulgar  impression  that  this  melancholy 
was  owing  to  his  poetical  talent,  countenanced  by  such  authority 
as  Mr.  Moore's ;  though  he  does  not  openly  declare  that  such 
is  his  opinion,  he  intimates  that  faults  and  sorrows  both  were 
owing  to  '  the  resdess  fire  of  genius.'  This  we  believe  to  be 
one  of  the  worst  heresies  in  public  opinion  ;  beside  being  dan- 
gerous and  misleading,  it  is  unjust  to  the  noblest  of  all  arts. 
Were  there  no  other  yoimg  men  of  rank  and  fortune,  equally 
'  dissipated  with  Lord  Byron,  or  did  all  the  companions  of  his 
vice  and  folly  share  his  exalted  power  ?  Why  need  we  assign 
more  refined  causes  for  his  corruption  than  for  theirs  ?  And 
more  than  all,  why  offer  this  immunity  to  those  who  waste  the 
talent,  which  was  given  to  bless  the  world,  which  we  deny  to 
the  inferior  prodigals  of  wealth  and  tune  ?  It  is  unquestionably 
true,  that  a  quick  imagination  gives  a  sharper  edge  to  sorrow, 
by  multiplying,  changing,  and  coloring  its  images,  but  it  has 
equal  power  over  images  of  joy,  if  the  poet  can  be  made  to 
look  upon  the  bright  side ;  and  as  this  aepends  on  his  own 
choice,  we  cannot  sympathise  with  him  very  deeply  if  he  insist 
on  bemg  unhappy ;  we  will  not  throw  the  blame,  which  belongs 
to  himself,  either  on  poetry  or  nature.  It  is  dme  that  justice 
in  this  respect  were  clone  to  poetry ;  it  is  a  full  fountain  of  con- 
solation ;  so  far  from  bebg  a  Marah  in  the  wilderness  of  life, 
there  is  healing  ui  its  waters.  The  greatest  masters  of  the  lyre 
have  found  delight  in  the  calm  and  majestic  exertion  of  all  their 
powers  ;  and  while  poetry  doubles  their  happiness  by  its  inspi- 
rations, it  has  been  found  effectual,  from  die  days  of  Saul  till 
the  present,  to  drive  dark  thoughts  from  the  soul.  No  man 
was  ever  more  indebted  to  poetry  than  Lord  Byron ;  we  say 


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1830.]  Mooters  lAft  of  Byron.  181 

BothiDg  of  his  reputation,  though  without  poetry,  he  would  have 
left  no  more  name  than  a  thousand  other  lords  ;  but  we  con- 
sider him  indebted  to  poetry  for  all  the  bright  hours  that 
silvered  his  path  of  life.  That  he  was  a  miserable  man,  no 
one  can  doubt,  who  knows  any  thing  of  the  ejSect  of  distemper* 
ed  fancy  and  ungovernable  passions ;  but  while  he  was  wUdly 
sacrificing  one  after  another  the  resources  for  happiness  which 
surrounded  him,  and  seemed  to  take  an  insane  pleasure  in 
seeing  those  treasures  melted  down  in  the  fires  of  passion — 
while  he  was  surrounded  by  associates,  who  were  enough  to 
put  to  flight  all  those  better  feelings,  which  could  not  quite 
forsake  him,  even  when  he  seemed  most  resolute  to  let  them 
go — ^while  in  self-infiicted  banishment,  his  face  was  always 
turned  toward  his  country,  although  he  spoke  of  it  with  hatred 
and  scorn — ^while  his"  wild,  fierce,  and  riotous  mirth,  only  man- 
ifested the  self-condemnation  and  torture  within — ^he  was  in- 
debted to  poetry,  for  fanning  the  embers  of  his  better  nature^ 
for  kindling  up  those  flashes  of  manly  and  generous  emotion, 
which,  transient  and  wavering  though  they  were,  have  been 
enough  to  secure  for  him  the  admiring  compassion  of  the 
world.  Nothing  can  extinguish  this  sacred  light  of  the  soul ; 
it  is  an  immortal  element^  which  floods  cannot  drown ;  it  often 
revealed  to  him  the  true  character  of  his  companions,  and  his 
own  conduct,  making  him  heart-sick  of  the  scenes  in  which  his 
life  was  wasted,  and  die  associates  among  whom  he  was 
thrown ;  it  led  him  to  all  the  excellence  which  he  ever  knew ; 
and  when  weary  of  degradation,  he  made  one  last  efibrt  with 
his  foot  on  the  native  soil  of  inspiration,  to  rise  to  his  proper 
place  among  the  sons  of  light,  it  was  evidently  owing  to  poetry, 
that  any  thbg  worthy  to  redeem,  was  yet  existing  in  his  soul. 

Equal  mjustice  is  done  to  poetry,  by  saying,  as  is  often  said, 
in  the  case  of  Byron,  that  misery  is  the  parent  of  its  inspira- 
tions. Poetry  is  the  work,  not  of  circumstances,  but  of  mind ; 
of  disciplined  and  powerful  mind ;  which  so  far  from  being  the 
sport  of  circumstances,  makes  them  bend  to  its  power.  There  is 
neither  romance,  nor  elegance  in  real  distress ;  it  is  too  real,  op- 
pressive, and  disheartening ;  the  mind,  so  far  from  dwelling  upon 
it,  turns  away  with  disgust  and  aversion.  The  person  in  suf- 
fering of  body  or  mbd,  no  more  thinks  of  the  fine  emotions  his 
situation  awakens,  than  the  soldier  bleeding  on  the  plain,  who 
i^v-ould  exchange  the  fame  of  Ccesar  for  a  drop  of  water  to  cool 
Jbis  burning  tongue.    It  is  true,  that  such  a  person  often  ex- 


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192  Mooters  Life  of  Byron.  [Jwljf 

presses  liimself  in  poetical,  that  is,  in  strcnig  language  ;  but  this 
is  not  poetry,  which  expresses  a  vivid  imagination  of  the  sor- 
row, rather  than  the  reality,  and  implies  a  steady  scrutiny  of 
feelings,  and  a  measuring  of  the  depth  and  power  of  language, 
to  which  real  suffering  is  a  stranger.  The  whole  advantage 
which  a  poet  derives  from  acquaintance  with  grief,  is  the  same 
he  might  borrow  from  being  present  in  a  storm  at  sea ;  he 
could  no  more  describe  his  emotions,  at  tlie  moment  when 
every  nerve  is  strained  and  wrung  with  grief,  than  he  could 
sit  down  to  paint  the  sublimity  of  the  tempest,  when  the  vessel 
lets  in  water  at  every  seam.  Afterwards,  he  may  remember 
the  circumstances,  and  recall  the  feelings;  and  if  he  do  it 
with  judgment  and  selection,  may  afiect  the  minds  of  his  readers 
with  impressions  similar  to  his  own.  Bu4  he  cannot  do  this, 
till  the  fear  and  anguish  are  gone ;  or  at  least,  till  he  finds  a 
consolation  in  the  exercise  of  his  mind,  which  makes  him  for- 
get his  sorrows.  No  stronger  confirmation  of  this  can  be  given 
than  the  lines  addressed  to  Thyrza,  which  exceed  all  lyrical 
poetry  in  the  language  for  the  deep  feeling  which  they  ex- 
press. They  were  addressed  to  an  imaginary  person,  and  the 
emotions,  if  he  ever  had  felt  them,  were  at  the  moment  of 
writing,  dictated  by  the  fancy  rather  dian  the  heart.  While 
therefore  we  believe  that  Byron  was  melancholy  in  his  tem- 
perament, we  do  not  believe  that  poetry  was  either  the  cause 
or  the  efiect  of  his  depression ;  his  sadness  was  owing  to  the 
circumstances  of  his  life ;  but  whether  natural  or  accidental,  it 
must  be  admitted  in  extenuation  of  his  faults,  because  even  if 
accidental,  it  was  formed  at  an  early  period  by  events,  over 
which  he  had  but  little  control. 

'  We  make  these  remarks,  not  by  any  means  because  we 
consider  these  circumstances  as  a  full  justification  of  Byron's 
character;  but  because  this  book  will  give  a  very  unfavorable 
impression ;  and  as  title  and  fortune  are  generally  tliought  to 
be  names  for  happiness,  it  may  chance  to  be  forgotten,  that 
there  was  any  thing  in  his  condition  to  be  pleaded  in  excuse 
for  his  transgressions.  His  reputation  needs  the  apology,  and 
he  has  a  right  to  the  benefit  of  it,  as  far  it  will  go.  Some  may 
wonder  to  hear  the  name  *  unfortunate'  applied  to  this  great 
favorite  of  the  world ;  and  yet,  whoever  reads  his  life  with  any 
attention,  will  feel  that  there  are  few  so  little  to  be  envied  as 
he.  '  There  is  something  inexpressibly  dreary  in  his  history. 
He  never  knew  any  thing  of  a  father's  kindness,  nor  in  truth  of 


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1830.]  ,    Moort's  Life  of  Bjfron.  183 

a  mothjer's  love ;  there  was  no  hand  to  point  out  to  him  the 
right  way,  and  no  strong  arm  on  which  his  own  might  lean ; 
his  was  no  school  to  prepare  him  for  a  virtuous  life ;  and  per* 
haps  such  a  life  would  not  have  been  expected  of  him,  ii  his 
mind,  undisciplined  as  his  character,  had  not  displayed  such 
remarkable  vigor.  Expected  or  not,  such  a  life  is  not  here 
recor^pd ;  and  all  we  ask  is,  that  whoever  is  painfully  struck 
with  this  account  of  liis  conduct,  would  take  all  its  palliations, 
such  ^s  they  are,  into  view. 

The  outline  of  Byron's  history  was  well,  known,  before  this 
work;  and  as  this  volume  must  have,  been  in  the  hands  of 
nearly  all  our  readers,  we  shall  not  give  the  particulars  of  his 
life,  though  many  are  curious  and  interesting ;  particularly  such 
as  show  how  comfortless  a  splendid  life  may  be.  Much  light 
is  thrown  upon  the  promise. of  his  youth ;  the  strong  testimonials 
of  affection  given  by  some  of  his  companions,  show  that  he  had 
warm  and  generous  feelings  to  those  whom  he  loved,  but  that 
he  was  sufficiently  haughty  and  sour  to  others,  with  or  without 
provocation.  He  was  in  no  wise  ambitious  of  improvement  in 
the  schools ;  but  rather  made  it  a  point  of  honor  to  rebel  against 
their  discipline,  which  he  ever  afterwards  held  in  contempt, 
as  men  hate  that  which  they  have  injured.  His  biographer 
considers  this  impatience  of  restraint  an  evidence  of  genius, 
which,  in  his  opinion,  needs  no  such  aids  nor  laws,  and  is  there>- 
fore  at  liberty  to  defy  them.  If  the  remarks  made  on  this 
subject  were  intended  to  bear  upon  the  English  universities 
only,  we  should  not  notice  them ;  but  tiiey  seem  meant  as  a 
reflection  upon  all  classical  studies  pursued  b  schools.  The 
writer  quotes  Lord  Byron's  saying  of  Virgil  and  Horace — that 
his  school  acquaintance  witli  those  classics  gave  him  a  distaste 
for  them  ever  after.  The  whole  truth  probably  was,  that  he 
never  troubled  himself  to  ascertain  the  strength  and  fidelity  of 
his  early  associations.  Had  he  read  them  in  maturer  years,  it  is 
impossible  that  such  boyish  recollections  should  have  made 
him  insensible  to  their  beauties ;  and  he  would  at  least  have 
felt,  that  such  a  defect  of  taste  and  judgment  is  what  one  should 
sooner  confess  than  avow.  He  could  have  meant  nothing  more 
than  to  express  in  a  decided  manner  his  aversion  to  schools ; 
and  in  this  his  bic^rapher  goes  with  bim,  bringing  fonvard  great 
examples  of  diose  who  felt  the  same  aversion.  But  it  happens, 
unfortunately  for  the  argument,  that  these  were,  most  of  them, 
such  as  had  been  censured  -and  disgraced  at  such  institutions.   It 


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184  Moi>reU  lAfe  of  Byron.  [July? 

is  not  probable  that  it  was  a  deliberate  conviction  of  the  badness 
of  the  system,  which  induced  them  to  violate  its  laws ;  the 
irregularities  oif  youth  are  more  easily  accounted  for ;  but  those 
who  know  how  long  resentment  for  such  disgrace  endures,  will 
not  wonder  that  it  influenced  their  judgment  in  manhood  and 
age.  But  this,  their  partial  evidence,  is  carried  further  than  it 
was  meant  to  go.  We  cannot  say  diat  Milton  was  in  fc^or  of 
anarchy,  because  he  wrote  against  oppression;  nor  that  he 
was  opposed  to  religion,  because  he  rejected  certain  doctrines. 
There  may  have  been  many  defects  in  the  education  of  his 
day,  which  revealed  themselves  to  his  prophetic  eye  before 
they  were  seen  by  others;  but  this  is  an  argument  not  for 
destruction  but  reform. 

We  regret  to  see  such  intimations  in  this  work ;  deliberate 
opinions  we  cannot  suppose  them  to  be.  We  do  not  believe 
that  the  writer,  though  he  thinks  that  the  Greeks  wrote  their 
language  in  such  purity  because  they  abstained  from  every 
other,  would  recommend  a  similar  abstinence  to  his  readers ; 
when  it  was  owing  in  them  to  the  want  of  treasures  in  any  other 
language  which  would  repay  the  labor  of  acquiring  it.  Nor  do 
we  suppose  that  he  would  i^eriously  advise  us  to  break  up  such 
institutions,  and  leave  the  young  to  forage  in  the  fields  of  learn- 
ing and  science  for  a  precarious  subsistence.  To  resist  the 
authorities  of  the  schools  was  not  a  sure  way  to  make  a  Milton, 
nor  is  every  one  likely  to  become  a  Franklin  who  runs  away 
from  home.  But  he  should  have  guarded  against  perversion 
of  his  opinions ;  that  they  might  not  countenance  the  irregu- 
larities of  genius ;  that  idle  impression,  which  has  kept  so  many 
fine  minds  from  feeling  the  necessity  of  improvement,  and 
inspired  so  many  dunces  with  a  sweet  confidence  in  their  own 
talents,  founded  on  their  defiance  of  all  control.  Byron  and 
many  others  became  great,  not  by  their  transgressions,  but  in 
spite  of  them;  had  he  submitted  to  the  usual  discipline  of 
youth,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  had  he  enjoyed  it,  he  might 
have  led  a  better  and  happier  life,  and  left  no  cause  for  his 
admirers  to  blush  for  the  cloud  upon  his  fame ;  though  he  would 
have  astonished  the  world  less,  he  might  have  secured  a  more 
enviable  immortality. 

In  speaking  of  B}'Ton's  infidelity,  Mr.  Moore  indulges  in 
a  fanciful  speculation  on  unbelief  in  general,  regarding  it  as  a 
fortunate  circumstance,  tliat  such  skepticism  does  not  begin  till 
the  character  is  abready  formed.    We  cannot  easily  persuade 


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1830.]  MooreU  lAft  of  Byron.  185 

ourselves  that  the  character  is  ever  formed  without  some  deci- 
sion of  the  mind  and  heart  either  for  or  against  religion.  The 
character  may  begin  to  lean  in  one  or  another  direction ;  but 
religions,  if  it  have  any  power,  must  exert  it  in  fixing  that 
direction,  and  its  mere  absence  from  the  heart  may  have  the 
same  effect  wkh  infidelity.  But  we  cannot  conceive  of  any  one 
growing  up  to  the  age  of  thoughtfulness,  to  the  time  when  tastes 
are  decided  and  habits  fully  formed,  without  asking  himself 
whether  he  believes  in  his  own  immortality.  If  he  grow  up 
under  religious  influences,  and  afterwards  become  persuaded 
that  religion  is  not  sustained  by  evidence,  his  infidelity  may 
be  less  injurious,  becatuse  his  judgment  'must  approve  the 
course  of  life  recommended  by  Christianity,  whatever  he  may 
think  of  its  divine  origin.  But  with  respect  to  Byron,  as  his 
biographer  testifies,  and  we  believe  with  respect  to  others,  the 
case  is  different ;  infidelity  begins  at  an  earlier  age — ^the  age 
when  the  mind  first  discovers  its  own  powers,  and  exults 
m  its  conscious  freedom — the  age  when  it  has  not  yet  learned 
that  the  trodden  ^ath  is  not  to  be  despised,  and  takes  pride  in 
defjring  common  opinion — at  such  an  age,  the  mind  is  much 
more  likely  to  shape  its  religion  to  its  wishes,  than  to  submit  its 
wishes  to  religion ;  and  it  is  easier  for  us  to  believe,  that  Lord 
B}rron,  and  others  like  him,  fashioned  their  faith  after  the  taste 
of  the  moment,  than  that  they  reasoned  on  the  subject  after  the 
manner  of  Herbert  and  Hume. 

Byron  had  become  associated  at  such  an  age  as  this  with  a 
number  of  young  men,  who,  taking  his  own  description,  were 
not  likely  to  exert  a  happy  influence  over  a  lawless  and  way- 
ward mind.  Aipong  others,  there  was  Matthews,  to  whom  he 
has  paid  so  beautiful  a  tribute  iti  Childe  Harold — a  man  of 
remarkable  promise,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  eulogies  of  his 
friends,  but  a  professed  atheist,  tmd  fond  of  employing  his  wit 
on  subjects  which  any  man  of  principle,  whether  atheist  or 
Christian,  would  have  kept  apart  from  profanation.  Byron 
held  him  in  great  respect,  and  was  doubtless  injured  by  his 
influence  ;  the  more  so  from  his  having  previously  thought,  or 
at  least  expressed  himself  with  some  interest  on  religious  sub- 
jects; having  at  no  period  of  his  life  any  great  confidence  in 
himself,  he  was  easily  laughed  out  of  his  religion,  and,  to  show 
the  sincerity  of  his  contempt  for  it,  may  have  made  a  show  of 
indifference  to  it  which  he  did  not  really  feel ;  at  any  rate,  it 
was  driven  from  his  thoughts ;  and  he  seldom  speaks  of  it  at 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  24 


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186  Moore^s  Life  of  Byron.  [July, 

all,  except  when  he  paints  the  desolation  of  his  feelmg;  and 
the  very  drearmess  which  he  ascribes  to  him,  who  cannot  look 
beyond  the  tomb,  shows  that  he  .knew  the  value  of  the  hope  of 
immortality,  though  he  felt  that  the  wilderness  about  him  would 
not  be  complete,  if  any  shoot  from  the  tree  of  life  were  seen  to 
grow.  But  there  was  nothbg  in  his  habits  of  life,  which  could 
make  this  a  welcome  subject,  except  for  the  poetical  interest 
which  it  ajSbrded ;  and  therefore  he  dismissed  it,  as  one  parts 
from  a  stranger,  not  as  he  tears  from  his  heart  the  friend  whom 
he  is  compelled  to  believe  untrue.  It  is  in  this  way,  that  young 
infidels  are  generally  formed.  Unbelief  is  too  strong  a  word 
for  their  state  of  mind,  if  it  mean  that  they  have  rejected 
Christianity  from  want  of  evidence  to  satisfy  their  minds ;  for 
there  is  so  litde  to  make  this  a  pleasing  subject  of  contemplation 
to  them — so  little  in  it  that  natters,  and  so  much  that  con- 
demns— ^they  have  learned  so  little  of  the  importance  of  its 
hopes,  havmg  never  yet  found  the  springs  of  common  enjoyment 
dry,  that  they  do  not  suffer  it  to  come  near  enough  to  their 
minds  to  have  its  claims  and  evidence  weighed ;  they  rest  m 
that  state  of  unbelief  which  amounts  to  indifierence,  and,  though 
they  sometimes  startle  others  by  a  parade  of  infidelity,  do  not 
differ  from  thousands  who  call  themselves  believers ;  and  they 
are  not  worse  than  they  would  be,  if  they  bore  the  name  of 
Christians. 

Mr.  Moore  has  given  a  very  liberal  account  of  the  attack  of 
the  Edinburgh  Review ;  which,  however  painful  to  B3nron  at 
the  time,  was  a  fortunate  humiliation  for  him,  as  it  taught  him 
the  secret  of  his  own  powers.  Mr.  Moore  thbks  that  We  judge 
these  poems  more  favorably  from  our  impressions  received 
from  his  later  writings ;  but  we  suspect  that  the  association  of 
the  splendid  efforts  of  later  years  with  his  imperfect  begin- 
nings would  not  tend  to  raise  the  latter  in  our  estimation.  The 
effect  would  be  that  of  contrast,  and  would  make  us  think  of 
the  first  attempts  more  meahly  than  they  deserve.  The  ques- 
tion, however,  is  not,  whether  the  poems  were  good  or  bad; 
we  think  that  many  of  them  are  good :  but  whether  the  offence 
was  such  as  to  call  for  such  a  severe  infliction,  which,  to  Byron, 
who  had  high  ideas  of  the  majesty  of  reviews,  was  a  tremen- 
dous blow.  Whether  the  attack  was  justifiable  or  not — tlie 
manner  no  one  will  defend — ^the  review  had  no  reason  to  boast 
its  success.  For,  though  Byron  retorted  in  a  poem,  which, 
with  all  its  excellence  and  vigor,  is  wanting  in  consistency  and 


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1830.]  Moore's  Life  of  Byron.  187 

justice — ^whicby  in  many  parts  was  unpardonably  insulting  to 
those,  who,  like  Scott,  had  never  offended  him — ^though  he 
goes  far  beyond  the  review  in  the  very  transgression  of  which  he 
complained — still,  so  heartily  did  the  pubUc  feeling  go  with  him 
m  his  resentment,  thai  his  work  was  received  with  unbounded 
applause.  The  whole  history  of  this  affair  deserves  attention, 
as  showing  how  little  there  was  fixed  and  decided  in  Byron's 
character.  When  the  review  took  the  only  ground  that  was 
left  it  after  his  Childe  Harold  appeared,  and  with  amiable 
unconsciousness  professed  its  surprise  that  he  should  have  sus- 
pected it  of  unkind  intentions,  he  was  melted  at  once ;  such  a 
concession  seemed  but  too  great,  and  he  hastened  to  repair 
the  injury  he  had  done  by  suppressing  the  English  Bards  and 
Scotch  Reviewers.  All  this  was  well;  for  he  did  it  on  his 
own  account  more  than  theirs ;  what  we  would  remark,  is  the 
confidence  in  his  own  powers  which  sprang  from  his  success 
on  this  oQpasion,  when  die  fires  of  genius  were  kindled  by  those 
of  passion.  It  was  a  limited  confidence;  though  he  knew 
himself  mighty,  he  did  not  judge  with  more  confidence  than 
before,  of  the  respective  merits  of  his  difierent  productions. 
As  far  as  it  went,  it  was  sustained  by  the  general  feeling ;  and 
when  that  foundation  gave  way,  or  rather,  when  in  their  dislike 
for  his  person,  his  countrymen  began  to  underrate  his  mind, 
abusing  him  with  zeal  proportioned  to  their  former  idolatr}',  he, 
with  his  usual  recklessness,  set  the  geperal  feeling  at  defiance : 
not  because  he  had  laid  any  deep  plans  of  revenge,  or  approved 
at  heart  of  profaneness  and  sensuality,  but  because  he  felt  for 
the  time  like  Richard  III.,  and  resolved,  that,  since  he  could 
no  longer  entertain,  he  would  defy  the  world.  We  do  not 
believe  that  he  could  have  given  a  reason  why  he  attacked  so 
many  unoffending  poets  in  his  satire ;  we  do  not  believe  that 
he  could  have  drawn  the  poisoned  element  of  Don  Juan  from 
any  deep  fountains  in  his  own  heart;  we  do  not  believe  that 
he  could  have  explained  much  of  the  conduct  of  his  life,  ex- 
cept by  saying  that  such  was  his  humor :  it  had  been  freely 
indulged  through  all  his  youth,  and  this  was  the  reason  that  he 
would  do  and  say  what  he  could  not  justify,  rather  than  seem 
under  any  control ;  this  was  the  reason,  that,  when  he  had  no 
longer  a  home,  but  was,  like  his  Cain,  a  wanderer,  he  put  on 
this  resolute  air  of  independence,  to  show  that  he  could  ^  take 
his  ease  in  his  own  inn.'  Such  characters  are  never  resolute, 
but  when  they  take  their  stand  against  others — so  long  as  the 


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188  Moore^s  Life  of  Byron.  .  [July, 

opposition  lasts,  their  firmness  endures ;  and  in  the  indulgence 
ol"  this  defiance,  regardless  of  what  is  right  or  wrong,  they  go 
as  far  beyond  their  own  feelings  as  those  of  others,  treating 
every  thing  unworthy,  as  justified  by  the  rules  of  war. 

Here  we  may  as  w^ell  say  that  we  nmst  be  careful  not  to 
give  too  much  weight  to  httle  incidents  and  expressions  in 
forming  our  opinion  of  such  characters.  Mr.  Moore  occasion- 
ally errs  in  this  respect ;  attaching  an.  unnecessary  importance 
to  some  of  his  sayings  and  actions,  which,  however  they  might 
bear  upon  his  character,  supposing  them  to  be  deliberate  and 
meditated,  are  evidently  vacant  and  unmeaning.  For  example, 
Byron,  once  holding  the  point  of  a  dagger  to  his  breast,  was 
overheard  to  say,  '  I  should  like  to  know  how  a  person  feels 
after  committing  a  murder.'  '  Here,'  says  his  biographer,  '  we 
may  discover  the  germs  of  his  future  Giaours  and  Corsairs.' 
This  is  certainly  magnifying  an  idle  word  and  action ;  hundreds 
of  youths,  who  could  as  soon  have  written  the  Prindpia  as 
the  Corsair,  have  done  and  said  tlie  same  thing,  without  ever 
touching  the  secret  spring  that  discovers  the  dark  passions  of 
the  soul.  Such  indications  as  this  amount  to  nothing ;  and  it  is 
difficult  to  judge  from  others  of  more  importance,  because  young 
men  bom  to  no  restraint  and  exempt  by  privilege,  or  misfortune, 
as  it  should  be  caUed,  of  birth,  firom  those  weights  which  regu- 
late the  motions  of  others,  are  apt  to  consider  what  others  call 
serious  things  as  trifles,  and  to  exalt  trifles  into  absurd  impor- 
tance :  so  that  it  is  difficult  to  judge  of  their  feeling  from  their 
conduct,  beyond  the  main  fact  that  the  moral  sentiment  is  inac- 
tive and  perverted.  B)rron  was  certainly  one  of  this  class. 
He  has  left  some  sad  examples  of  his  talent  at  degradmg  into 
trifles  what  others  hold  in  respect :  saying  that  they  were  thought- 
less, is  not  excusing  them,  for  he  was  of  an  age  to  know  what 
he  was  doing,  and  thoughtlessness  is  a  crime  if  it  lead  to 
sacrilege  and  sensuality.  That  he  made  trifles  important, 
appears  from  the  influence  he  gave  to  his  imagination  in  the 
conduct  of  life;  he  imagined  himself  set  apart  by^his  destiny 
from  the  communion  of  mankind — among  them,  but  not  of 
them :  he  was  really  desolate,  but  he  imagined  himself  more 
so— and  though  one  like  him,  might,  by  effort,  have  mastered 
all  the  unfavorable  circumstances  of  his  life,  and  have  risefi  at 
a«y  time  from  weakness  to  power,  and  from  dishonor  to  glory, 
he  imagined  that  nature  and  man  conspired  to  keep  him  an 
alien  from  his  race.     Thus  all  his  feelings  were  fancies*— and 


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1830.]  Moore's  Life  of  Byron.  189 

the  day-dreams  of  imagination  grew  into  the  circumstances  by 
which  his  life  was  governed.  No  one  can  account  for  his 
movements,  without  being  in  the  same  condition  or  under  the 
same  delusions :  '  he  sees  a  hand  we  cannot  see,  he  hears  a 
voice  we  cannot  hear.'  We  do  not  believe  that  he  could  have 
explained  to  himself  half  the  actions  of  his  life ;  he  could  not 
remember  the  impulse  by  which  he  acted,  after  the  fancy  had 
died  away;  he  had  no  conception  of  himself,  except  as  a 
Harold  or  a  Conrad,  and  these  w^re  creations  of  fancy,  which 
had  no  original  in  any  men  that  ever  existed.  No  wonder 
that  he  should  be  still. more  unaccountable  to  others ;  some- 
times he  seems  to  us  to  move  as  much  without  reason  as  the 
wayfarer,  who  turns  aside,  mistaking  the  western  clouds  for 
mountains.  Those  who  regard  him  as  acting  like  other  men 
in  the  same  condition,  will  have  but  litde  forgiveness  for  his 
errors ;  while  those  who  know  the  power  of  a  busy  imagination 
to  suggest  various  courses  of  action — to  conjure  up  obstacles 
or  inducements,  and  to  give  the  color  of  right  to  that  which  is 
wrong,  will  feel,  as  if,  though  they  may  not  defend  his  words 
and  deeds,  there  may  be  palliations  visible  to  that  eye  that  reads 
the  heart. 

The  effect  of  his  first  travels  is  beautifully  described  by  Mr. 
Moore,  and  may  serve  as  a  confirmation  of  what  we  have  said 
respecting  his  want  of  energy  within,  and  the  manner  in  which 
he  required  to  he  sustained-  by  lateral  pressure.  Strength  of 
mind  he  possessed  in  abundance,  but  he  had  not  strength  of 
heart.  He  went  away,  feeling  that  satiety  which  always  follows 
a  surrender  of  the  soul  to  pleasure,  going  out  as  it  seemed, 
with  little  more  than  change  of  place  in  view;  but  his  wander- 
bgs  led  him  through  regions  where  travel  abounds,  not  merely 
as  in  more  civilised  regions,  in  vexation,  but  also  in  hardship 
and  adventure.  Every  thing  that  he  saw  was  new,  and  calcu- 
lated to  awaken  the  imagination,  from  the  barbaric  power  of  Ali 
Pacha,  to  the  eloquent  ruins  of  Athens ;  like  all  who  have 
breathed  the  air  of  classical  Ikerature,  the  love  of  Greece  lay 
deep  in  his  soul ;  and  when  he  triaversed  her  blue  waters  and 
lonely  mountains,  he  heard  the  voice  of  ages  fast  calling  on 
him  to  secure  a  glorious  immortality  in  all  that  were  to  come. 
He  listened  and  '  his  spirit  was  stirred  in  him,'  his  mind  was 
excited  to  manly  and  vigorous  actions,  'and  he  poured  out  his 
soul  in  strains  never  exceeded  for  the  depth  and  fulness  of 
their  meaning  or  the  bold  music  of  their  flow.     Who  will  deny 


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190  Moore^s  Life  iff  Byron.  [July? 

that  the  inspiration  Fhicb  be  borrowed  from  tbe  land  of  recol- 
lections was  afterwards  splendidly  repaid  ?  The  vaiiety  of 
scenes  through  which  he  passed — the  persons  he  encountered 
and  tlie  places  full  of  interest,  which  he  saw,  produced  the 
effect  of  discipline  and  education ;  his  rnksd  learned  to  act  with 
spirit  and  decision ;  and  as  he  became  fitted  for  intellectual 
duties  and  pleasures,  he  acquired  a  self-sustaining  force,  which 
rightly  directed  might  have  made  him  not  merely  eminent,  but 
useful  and  happy.  Before  that  time,  he  bad  been  an  enture 
stranger  to  intellectual  exertii^n  ;  though  be  bad  read  much,  it 
was  with  irregular  and  aimless  range ;  whatever  may  be  said 
of  the  improvement  derived  from  his  cultivated  society  at  New- 
stead,  is  fully  answered  by  their  own  descriptions  of  the  en- 
gagements of  a  day ;  beside  them,  his  associates  were  dogs, 
bears,  and  professors  of  pugilism,  the  most  brutal  of  all  arts. 
It  was  a  fortunate  hour  when  he  grew  weary  of  his  pleasures, 
and  fled  to  regions  where  all  around  him  was  calculated  to 
excite  curiosity  and  call  out  his  powers.  For  even  in  poetry, 
up  to  this  time  he  was  inclined  to  an  imitative  style,  which  \^s 
to  his  facufires  like  the  cramp  of  artificial  gracefulness  to  the 
limbs,  preventing  all  free  action,  except  when  as  in  the  case  of 
the  review  his  momentary  passion  burst  the  cords  with  which 
his  hands  were  bound.  Jt  was  not,  as  his  biographer  supposes, 
that  he  grew  more  in  love  with  solitude  ;  solitude,  would  not 
have  invigorated  a  mind  like  his  ;  it  would  have  been  stagnation 
to  the  fountains  of  his  genius,  and  it  needed  all  his  activity  in 
travel  to  trouble  the  waters ;  activity  of  the  frame  was  essential 
to  tlmt  of  his  mind  ;  and  thus  quickened,  he  broke,  in  spite  of 
himself,  the  chain  of  old  poetical  practice,  and  while  he  retain- 
ed all  his  reverence  for  the  classical  form  and  his  resolution  to 
excel  in  it,  indulged  himself  in  other  writings  more  suited  to 
his  taste ;  regarding  the  latter  as  the  play  and  the  former  as  his 
high  ambition.  This  was  tlie  origin  of  Childe  Harold — a  sort 
of  poetical  journal  of  his  thoughts  and  feelings,  taken  down  in 
the  moment's  glow ;  he  hardly  considered  it  worthy  the  name 
of  poetry,  and  yet  nothing  ever  more  surprised  and  delighted 
the  world.  This  was  what  travel  had  done  for  him — it  taught 
him  to  throw  off  his  literary  distrust  and  reserve,  and  to  speak 
with  ease  and  energy  the  native  language  of  his  heart. 

There  are  (ew  more  interesting  facts  in  literary  history  than 
this  ;  Mr.  Dallas  saw  Lord  Byron  immediately  after  his  return 
and  heard  him  speak  with  enthusiasm  of  a  work,  which  be 


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1830.]  Moore^s  Life  of  Byron.  191 

believed  would  add  much  to  his  fame.  This  he  put  into  Mr. 
Dallas's  hands,  who  read  it  with  dismay,  and  ventured  to  ask  his 
Lordship  if  this  was  all  the  result  of  two  interesting  years.  He 
said  in  reply,  that  he  had  some  other  short  poems  occasionally 
written  during  his  absence,  but  they  were  not  worth  attention, 
and  while  he  gave  these  carelessly  to  Mr.  Dallas  he  insisted  on 
the  immediate  publication  of  the  odier.  Fortunately,  the  person 
into  whose  hands  they  fell,  had  capacity  to  understand  their 
value  and  immediately  told  Lord  Byron  of  the  treasure  he  had 
found  ;  but  it  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  he  could  prevail 
on  the  author  to  give  it  to  the  world.  There  are  several  such 
instances  on  record  of  the  little  power  of  authors  to  judge  of 
their  own  productions,  but  none  so  remarkable  as  this.  We 
allude  to  it  as  showing  the  manner  in  which  he  estimated  the 
merit  of  his  works  by  the  labor  with  which  they  were  written. 
He  learned  the  right  practice  before  he  acquired  the  right 
taste ;  like  the  waking  giant  he  threw  off  the  bauds  which 
could  only  hold  him  while  sleeping ;  and  yet,  had  he  remained 
m  the  Abbey  where  external  influence  could  not  be  brought  to 
bear  upon  his  mind,  he  might  have  lived  and  died,  leaving  no 
more  to  be  remembered  than  one  of  the  monks  that  slept  under 
its  floors. 

When  Lord  Byron  returned  to  England,  after  his  first  travels, 
he  felt  as  if  he  were  going  back,  without  pleasure,  to  a  land 
which  had  no  claim  upon  his  affections.  It  is  true,  that  he  had 
few  of  those  attractions  at  home  ;  but  how  many  there  are 
who  have  none  of  the  enjoyments  embraced  in  that  inspiring 
word  ;  and  how  many  more  whose  home  is  only  a  distant  and 
painful  recollection  !  He  bad  no  friends  either,  except  such  as 
were  ready-made  ;  as  he  was  prevented  by  pride  and  reserve, 
from  cultivating  new  attachments,  there  were  few  to  welcome 
his  return.  Beside  this,  his  circumstances  were  so  unpromis- 
ing, that  Newstead  had  been  entered  with  an  execution.  Such 
anticipations  may  have  made  him  look  forward  at  times  to  his 
return  with  a  feeling  of  dread.  It  must  be  allowed  too,  that 
he  overrated  his  own  misery ;  he  fixed  his  eyes  on  dark  points, 
such  as  are  found  in  every  man's  piospect,  till  there  seemed  to 
be  nothing  bright  for  him  to  hope  or  enjoy.  He  insisted  on 
being  miserable,  as  if  it  were  a  sacred  duty,  and  there  are 
many  passages  in  his  letters  of  'most  humorous  sadness,' 
which  remind  us  of  Cowper's  penitential  letters  to  Newton,  in 
which  his  natural  mirth  is  perpetually  breaking  through  the 


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192  Mooters  Lift  of  Byron.  [July, 

artificial  cloud.     The  very  circumstance  that  he  cherished  so 
much  the  acquaintance  of  grief,  proves  that  it  could  not  have 
sunk  so  deep  as  he  imagined,  for  sorrows  always  present,  soon 
become,  like  the  skulls  on  his  table,  too  familiar  to  excite  the 
least  emotion.     Altogether,  it  seems  evident  to  us  that  Byron's 
heart  was  set  on  England  ;  it  certainly  was  so  far  as  this, — ^that 
he  found  neither  home  nor  rest  in  any  other  country.     And 
how  could  it  be   otherwise  ?     Lord   Byron  was  thoroughly 
English  in  all  his  habits,  tastes,  and  feelings ;  not  only  in  his 
occasional  courage,  manliness  and  generosity,  but  in  his  haughti- 
ness, caprice,  and  suspicion.     His  favorite  amusements  were 
of  the  rough  and  active  kind,  and  some  of  his  pleasures  we 
must  say,  bore  an  English  taint  of  grossness.     He  was  English 
in  his  jealous  and  defensive  pride,  which  could  not  pardon 
slight  neglect,  so  easily  as  serious  wrongs.     There  was  no 
place  where  he  found  the  least  happiness,  except  in  England  ; 
and  when  he  left  it  at  last,  with  expressions  of  hatred  and 
defiance,  it  is  evident  that  his  wrath  was  fiercer,  because  he  felt 
that  he  could  not  cease  to  love  the  land  he  had  abanddhed. 
While  he  lived  abroad,  he  welcomed  associates  who  had  nothing 
but  the  name  of  English  to  recommend  them,  witli  as  much 
delight,  as  Capt.  Cooke  saw  the  leaden  spoon  with  the  mark  of 
London  on  one  of  the  Sandwich  Islands.    It  was  the  indignation 
and  despair  occasioned  by  his  loss  of  popularity  in  England, 
which  made  him  descend  to  low  and  licentious  satire,  in  order 
to  show  that  indifference  which  he  never  felt  to  England's  good 
opinion.     The  fierce  vidence  of  disappointed  pride  is  not  to 
be  hidden  under  a  jesting  tone.     He  seemed  to  act  with  the 
feeling  of  a  lover  to  an  unkind  mistress — ^plunging  into  dissipa- 
tion, with  the  wish  and  hope  of  giving  her  pain  by  his  vices. 
Byron  in  like  manner  trusted  that  when  England  heard  his 
voice  echoing  in  riotous  mirth  from  a  foreign  land,  she  would 
accuse  herself  of  severity,  and  lament  that  so  much  power 
was  lost,  or  worse  than  lost  to  the  world.     He  felt  all  the  while, 
as  if  the  English  public  were  tlie  arbiters  of  his  fame  ;  and 
probably,  when  he  left  England  the  second  time,  he  would 
have  chosen  rather  to  remain,  and  face  the  changed  wind  of 
popular  feeling  which  beat  in  a  perfect  storm  upon  him,  had  he 
not  felt  as  if  his  poetical  fame  was  waning,  and  his  circum- 
stances in  hopeless  confusion.     But  wherever  he  went,  *What 
will  they  say  of  us  in  England  ?'  was  the. uppermost  question, 
asked  partly  in  tendeiness,  partly  in  scorn  ; — ^it  had  its  share  in 


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1830.]  Moore's  Life  of  Byron.  193 

tke  impulse  which  drove  him  to  Greece,  and  when  he  perished 
there  we  believe  that  England, — ^we  know  that  his  wife,  child, 
and  sister, — ^were  the  last  mortal  vision  that  faded  from  his  soul. 

Lord  Byron  never  appeared  in  so  interesting  a  light,  as  at 
the  time  when  Childe  Harold  had  made  him  the  gaze  of  every 
eye.  This  was  the  happiest  and  most  brilliant  portion  of  his 
life ;  indeed  the  only  portion  to  which  those  words  can  properly 
be  applied.  Beside  his  literary  pretensions,  he  had  begun  to 
aspire  to  the  fame  of  an  orator,  and  had  already  spoken  once 
or  twice,  with  promising  success.  But  all  other  hopes  were 
dimmed  by  bis  poetical  triumph,  and  seldom  has  there  broken 
on '  the  eye  of  man  a  scene  of  equal  glory.  He  had  not 
anticipated  this ;  he  had^  reproached  himself  with  relying  so  far 
on  the  opinion  of  his  friends,  as  to  give  his  poem  to  the  press  ; 
his  success  therefore  was  made  more  welcome  by  surprise ;  and 
when  we  remember  that  in  addition  to  this  he  had  the  charms 
of  high  birdi,  renowned  ancestry,  and  uncommon  beauty  of  per- 
son, it  is  not  strange  that  the  public  with  its  English  enthusiasm, 
should  have  been  transported  with  admiration.  Wherever  he 
went  he  was  received  with  rapture ;  nobility,  fashion,  even 
royalty  itself  united  in  the  general  acclamation ;  his  natural 
shyness  pas3ed  for  the  absence  of  genius ;  his  constraint  in 
formal  society  was  taken  for  the  coldness  of  sorrow  j  his  brow 
was  supposed  to  be  overcast  by  a  melancholy  imagination ;  his 
faults,  so  far  as  known,  gave  an  air  of  romantic  wildness  to  his 
character,  though  they  were  generally  veiled  by  the  clouds  of 
incense  that  rose  from  every  side  and  gathered  round  him. 
Those  who  had  suffered  from  his  sarcasm  laid  their  resentment 
by ;  and  came  manfully  tbrward  to  offer  at  once  their  .forgive- 
ness and  applause ;  sensitive  as  he  was  on  the  subject  of  self, 
he  had  every  thing  to  keep  him  in  a  state  of  perpetual  excite- 
ment, delightiul,  no  doubt  for  a  time,  but  calculated,  when  its 
first  freshness  ^as  over,  to  bring  more  uneasiness  than  gratifi- 
cation ;  and  a  poor  preparation  for  that  hour  when  the  sounds 
of  applause  were  to.  die  away,  and  nothing  to  be  heard  but  the 
murmur  of  condemnation,  that  reached  him  even  across  the 
deep. 

As  we  have  said,  he  appears  more  amiable  at  this  period  of 
his  life  than  at  any  other  ;  for  a  time,  he  is  at  peace  with  him- 
self and  all  around  him.  The  appearance  of  the  Giaour,  and 
the  compliments  paid  him  by  Jeffrey  on  that  occasion,  com- 
pleted his  exultation.     But  while  it  is  pleasant  to  witness  the 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  25 


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194  MooreU  Lift  of  Byron,  [''uly, 


rejoicing  of  success,  Byron's  friends,  bad  they  known  his  nature, 
would  have  trusted  but  little  to  the  promise  of  that  hour.  .  We 
cannot  judge  of  a  dwelling  by  its  appearance  when  illuminated 
for  a  victory,  nor  of  any  character  by  the  happiness  produced 
by  circumstances ;  for  such  happiness  cannot  last,  and  when  it 
goes,  It  leaves  the  heart  more  desolate  than  it  was  before.  If 
die  world's  favor  did  not  change,  it  was  almost  certain  that  he 
himself  would  alter  ;  after  living  on  this  exciting  element  for  a 
while,  it  would  naturally  lose  its  power ;  the  fountain  having 
been  drained  in  the  beginning  could  not  be  filled  anew ;  and  as 
nothing  less  luxurious  would  satisfy  his  desires,  he  must  of 
course  return  to  his  old  state  of  depression,  sinking  low  in 
proportion  to  the  height  from  which  he  fell.  Such  was  the 
result;  we  soon  find  him  making  arrangements  for  another 
voyage ;  he  seemed  to  anticipate  the  time  when  the  popular 
mterest  should  fail  him,  and  therefore  kept  himself  as  much 
apart  as  possible  ;  still  the  change  was  to  come  in  the  order  of 
nature,  and  it  came  first  in  him ;  he  grew  weary  of  receiving 
sooner  than  the  world  of  givbg  its  praise.  He  says  of  Sheri- 
dan, '  What  a  wreck  is  that  man  !  and  all  from  bad  pilotage  ; 
for  no  one  had  ever  better  gales.'  The  same  might  be  said  of 
himself  at  this  time ;  but  the  ti-uth  is,  that  no  winds  are  favor- 
able to  those  who  are  not  made  in  a  measure  independent  of 
circumstances  by  something  firm  within;  when  energy  at  heart 
is  wanting,  it  requires  a  miraculous  combination  of  circum- 
.  stances  to  keep  one  good,  prosperous  or  happy. 

This  brings  us  to  Lord  Byron's  marriage  and  separatbn  ;  a 
piece  of  history  which  has  long  been  publicly  discussed,  and 
with  a  freedom  unusual  in  such  cases ;  it  was  investigated  per- 
haps with  the  more  earnestness  firom  its  being  carefully  hidden ; 
but  now,  the  slight  mystery  that  hung  over  it  is  removed  by  Mr* 
Moore's  publication,  and  a  statement  from  Lady  Byron,  which 
has  followed  it,  and  which  reveals  all  the  circumstances  that  the 
p^ublic  are  likely  ever  to  know.  This  is  the  first  time  she  has  ever 
appealed  to  the  public  agabst  the  charm  of  her  husband's  poet- 
ical insinuations ;  silence  was  certainly  the  more  dignified  course, 
and  no  explanation  from  her  was  called  for ;  the  public  feeling  in 
the  circle  round  them  was  all  on  her  side,  and  Lord  Byron  was 
visited  with  a  sentence  of  outlawry,  which  made  him  an  exile 
ever  after.  There  was  a  stem  cry  of  indignation  against  him, 
which  indicated  either  diat  the  English  fashionable  world  had 
been  suddenly  converted  to  rigid  morality,  or  that  his  popu- 


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1830.]  Moure's  Ufe  of  Byron.  196 

larity  was  on  the  wane,  and  enemies  of  all  descriptions,  literary 
and  political,  took  advantage  of  the  moment  to  give  him  a  fatal 
blow.  The  history  of  the  separation,  as  given  in  this  work, 
leaves  a  charge  oi  duplicity  on  Lady  Byron,  which  she  did 
wisely  to  repel.  He  says,  that  shortly  after  the  birth  of  her 
daughter,  she  went  to  visit  her  parents;  they  parted  in  the 
utmost  kindness ;  she  wrote  him  a  letter  on  the  way  full  of 

Slayfulness  and  affection,  and  as  soon  as  she  arrived  at  Kirkby 
fallory,  her  father  wrote  to  inform  Lord  Byron  that  she 
would  never  return.  This  was  at^  a  time  when  his  pecuniary 
embarrassments  had  become  intolerably  pressing ;  executions 
had  been  repeatedly  in  his  house ;  and  for  a  wife  to  choose  this 
time  and  manner  to  leave  her  husband  would  inspire  a  natural 
prejudice  against  her,  unless  there  were  grave  reasons  to  justify 
her  apparent  want  of  sincerity  and  good  feeling. 

Lady  Byron  explains  her  conduct  in  a  letter  written  to  jus- 
tify her  parents  from  tlie  charge  of  interfering  on  this  occasion. 
She  states  that  she  believed  her  husband  insane,  and  acted 
upon  that  impression,  both  in  leaving  him  and  in  writing  her 
letter,  choosing  the  tone  and  manner  least  likely  to  irritate  his 
passions.  She  states  that  had  she  not  considered  him  insane, 
she  could  not  have  borne  with  him  so  long.  She  endeavored 
to  obtain  a  separation,  but  the  circumstances  were  not  thought 
sufficient  to  make  out  the  case  of  insanity.  We  are  not  sur- 
prised that  such  was  her  impression.  Mr.  Moore  mentions 
that  Byron  was  in  the  habit  of  keeping  fire-arms  in  his  carriage 
and  near  his  bed.  Such  extravagance  was  enough  to  excite 
her  suspicion  of  his  soundness  of  mind  ;  and  there  was  nothing 
to  quiet  her  apprehensions  in  his  temper,  which  was  grown 
irresistible  by  long  indulgence  of  self-will ;  he  was  wholly  un- 
taught to  submit  to  those  mutual  concessions,  which  domestic 
happiness  and  harmony  require.  When  we  remember  that  his 
passions,  which  he  himself  describes  as  occasionally  savage, 
were  incensed  by  seeing  his  house  repeatedly  in  possession  oif 
officers  of  the  law,  no  wonder  that  all  should  have  seemed  like 
madness,  to  her  even  spirit  and  uniform  feelings. 

We  do  not  know  how  any  one  acquainted  with  the  history 
of  their  attachment,  could  have  anticipated  any  other  result. 
The  first  mention  of  Lady  Byron  is  found  in  the  Journal. 

*  A  very  pretty  letter  from  Annabella,  which  I  answered. 
What  an  odd  situation  and  friendship  is  ours !  without  one  spark 
of  love  on  either  side,  and  produced  by  circumstances  which  in 


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196  Moore's  Life  of  Byron,  [July, 

general  lead  to  coldness  on  one  side  and  aversion  on  the  other. 
She  is  a  very  superior  woman,  and  very  little  spoiled,  which  is 
strange  in  an  heiress— a  girl  of  twenty — a  peeress  that  is  to  he 
in  her  own  right,  an  only  child,  and  a  savante,  who  has  always 
had  her  own  way.  She  is  a  poetess — mathematician — meta- 
physician, and  yet  very  kind,  generous,  and  gentle,  with  very 
little  pretension.*    p.  331. 

Here  it  seems  there  was  no  love  on  either  side.  He  says 
in  another  place,  'a  wife  would  be  the  salvation  of  me;'  and 
this  Mr.  Moore  explains,  by  his  conviction  that  'it  was  pru* 
dent  to  take  refuge  in  marriage  from  those  perplexities,  which 
form  the  sequel  of  all  less  regular  ties.'  These  are  ominous 
words.  He  offered  himself  at  that  time  to  Miss  Milbanke,  and 
was  rejected ;  '  on  neither  side  was  love  either  felt,  or  pro^ 
fessed.'  '  In  the  meantime  new  entanglements,  in  which  his 
heart  was  the  willing  dupe  of  his  fancy  and  vanity,  came 
to  engross  the  young  poet ;  and  still,  as  tJae  U3ual  pensdties  of 
such  pursuits  followed,  he  found  himself  sighing  for  the  sober 
yoke  of  wedlock  as  some  security  against  their  recurrence.' 
Such  is  his  friend's  account  of  the  reasons  of  this  connexion. 
Some  time  after  this  a  friend  advised  him  to  marry,  to  which 
he  assented,  '  after  much  discussion.'  He  himself  was  for 
another  application  to  Miss  Milbanke,  but  bis  friend  dissuaded 
him,  on  the  ground  that  she  was  learned,  and  had  then  no  for- 
tune. He  at  last  agreed  that  his  friend  should  write  a  proposal 
to  another  lady  ;  it  was  rejected.  '  You  see,'  said  Lord  Byron, 
'  that  Miss  Milbanke  is  to  be  the  person.'  He  immediately 
wrote  to  her,  and  his  friend  reading  what  he  had  written^  said, 
'  this  is  really  a  very  pretty  letter ;  it  is  a  pity  it  should  not  go.' 
'  Then  it  shall  go,'  said  Lord  Byron.  It  went,  and  the  offer 
was  accepted.  In  this  way  the  most  important  action  of  his 
life  was  done.  .  He  said,  '  I  must  of  course  reform,'  and  with 
this  shadow  of  a  resolution,  he  went  through  the  ceremony  in 
a  kind  of  thoughtless  heaviness,  which  he  was  at  no  pains  to 
coticeal.  What  induced  Lady  Byron  to  risk  her  happiness  in 
such  an  adventure,  we  cannot  tell,  unless  she  was  ambitious  of 
the  glory  of  reforming  such  a  man.  If  so,  she  did  her  part, 
by  his  own  acknowledgment. 

*  I  do  not  believe,  and  I  must  say  it,  in  the  dress  of  this  bitter 
business,  that  th^re  ever  was  a  better,  or  even  a  brighter,  kinder, 
more  agreeable  or  more  amiable  being  than  Lady  B.  I  never 
had,  nor  can  have,  any  reproach  to  make  her  while  with  me.' 


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1830.]  Moore's  Life  of  Byron.  197 

Such  hopes  are  invariably  disappointed ;  their  only  chance 
of  success  consists  in  a  strong  hold  upon  the  affections,  which 
she  never  had  on  his.  Such  a  marriage  contract,  like  the 
book  of  some  ancient  prophet,  was  written  within  and  without^ 
with  lamentation,  mourning,  and  woe. 

Mr.  Moore  is  inclined  to  attribute  all  this  to  the  incapacity 
of  men  of  genius  to  enjoy  domestic  peace.  He  forgets  that 
in  defending  his  friend,  he  does  injustice  to  talent  as  well  as  to 
Him  who  gave  it^  Examples  may  be  found  among  poets  of 
such  unfortunate  marriages,  but  there  is  no  connexion  of  cause 
and  effect  between  their  genius  and  their  guilt  or  calamity, 
which  ever  it  may  be.  We  do  not  believe  a  single  word  of  his 
refined  speculation  on  this  subject.  We  cannot  believe  that 
poetical  inspiration,  that  glorious  gift  of  Ood,  can  ever  be  a 
curse  to  its  innocent  possessor.  Like  every  thing  else,  it  may 
be  abused ;  and  then  the  greater  the  power  the  wider  will  be 
the  destruction.  But  there  is  no  tendency  to  abase  in  its  na- 
ture. There  is  no  need  of  giving  the  reins  to  imagmation* 
Where  this  power  is  strmig,  the  judgment,  if  encouraged,  will 
be  strong  in  full  proportion,  and,  if  taught  to  do  its  office,  will 
keep  the  fancy  irom  excesses  as  well  as  the  passions.  So  far 
firom  giving  even  a  distaste  for  reality,  it  will  give  a  charm  td 
reality  by  surrounding  it  with  elevating  associations,  it  will 
raise  its  possessor  above  the  common  level  of  life,  not  too  high 
to  see  all  things  distinctly,  and  yet  so  high  that  he  can  look 
over  and  beyond  them.  Man  is  made  lord  of  all  his  passions-^ 
invested  with  power  over  all  the  elements  of  his  nature.  He 
may  keep  or  he  may  resign  it ;  he  may  cast  the  crown  from 
his  head — ^he  may  make  himself  the  slave  of  those  affections 
which  he  is  bound  to  govern  ;  but  let  him  not  libel  his  nature, 
for  he  makes  himself  weak  when  heaven  meant  him  to  be 
strong;  he  sinks  himself  into  degradation  and  sorrow  where 
Providence  would  never  have  placed  him.  The  fault  is  all  in 
his  own  infirmity  of  purpose  and  will. 

We  shall  not  probably  have  another  Opportunity  of  speaking 
of  Lord  Byron,  and  we  cannot  leave  the  subject  without  saying 
a  word,  of  his  writings.  His  name  has  now  become  historical, 
and  his  works  are  registered  in  the  treasures  of  English  poetry. 
Now,  if  ever,  they  can  be  fairly  judged.  The  enthusiasm  in 
favor  of  the  writer  has  nearly  died  away ;  and,  as  usual  in 
cases  of  reaction,  begins  to  be  succeeded  by  an  indifference, 
which  is  more  fatal  than  any  other  infliction  to  a  poet's  fame. 


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198  Moare^s  Life  of  Byron.  [July, 

His  works  are  not  so  much  read  at  present  as  they  will  be  some 
years  hence,  when  what  is  obscure  and  prosaic  about  them  will 
be  passed  by,  the  grosser  parts  dismissed  to  oblivion,  and  that 
which  is  great  and  excellent  be  read  with  an  unmingled  plea* 
sure,  which  his  readers  cannot  now  enjoy. 

Childe  Harold  is  his  most  important  work,  and  on  this  and 
his  lyrical  poems  his  fame  must  ultimately  depend.  It  was 
a  secret  outpouring  of  his  soul,  deeply  colored  by  his  peculiar 
genius  and  feeling.  It  bears  no  marks  of  that  constraint  and 
adaptation  produced  by  a  coasciousness  that  the  public  eye 
'  was  upon  him.  The  Childe  is  a  character  sufficiently  natural, 
and  the  feelings  embodied  in  it  by  the  poet,  allowing  for  a  little 
overstatement,  nearly  resembled  his  own.  It  was  a  happy  im- 
agination to  represent  only  the  more  striking  scenes,  such  as 
would  be  likely  to  fix  the  attention  of  an  uninterested  wander- 
er. It  affords  an  excuse  for  passing  over  what  is  unsuited  to 
poetical  djscription,  and  for  giving  bold  relief  to  such  as  could 
kindle  the  vacant  pilgrim's  heart  and  eye.  All  about  the 
poem,  even  its  abruptness  and  disorder,  is  brought  into  keeping, 
so  that  irregularity  becomes  a  beauty. 

But  the  character  of  the  Childe  was  so  successful,  and  he 
was  so  much  flattered  by  its  being  taken  for  a  likeness  of  his 
own,  that,  instead  of  imagining  new,  he  was  tempted  to  draw  it 
again.  In  the  Giaour,  Corsair,  and  other  poems,  he  multiplies 
copies  of  tliis  original ;  but  in  attemptmg  to  give  them  additional 
effect,  he  has  gone  beyond  the  bounds  of  truth  and  nature. 
We  can  imagine  some  good  feelbgs  lingering  in  the  ruins  of  a 
libertine's  character,  and  reviving  when  his  heart  is  moved  to 
tenderness ;  but  to  transfer  the  same  affections  to  pirates  and 
murderers  is  so  shocking  to  probability,  that  none  but  very 
young  readers  can  be  interested.  It  is  surprising  that  he 
should  not  have  felt,  that  to  ascribe  habitual  good  feeling  to 
such  a  character  is  quite  as  unnatural,  as  to  imagine  good  men 
living  in  the  practice  of  robbery  and  murder.  Still  these 
works  abound  in  traits  of  great  loveliness  and  power ;  and 
though  they  did  not  injure  his  fame,  could  not  prevent  its  nat- 
ural decline — a  decline  which  must  come  unless  every  new 
effort  of  a  poet  transcend  the  last.  It  was  an  indifference 
which  he  could  not  well  bear.  Though  he  constantly  declared 
his  weariness  of  the  world  and  the  men  of  it,  he  could  not  en- 
dure that  the  world  should  grow  weary  of  him. 

We  must  say  that  we   consider  some  of  his  lyrical  poems 


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1830.]  Moore^s  ZAfe  of  Byron.  199 

as  the  finest  in  the  language.  The  deep  feeling  which  he  de- 
lighted to  express  was  better  suited  to  short  pieces  than  to 
long  poems.  For  though  in  a  poem  such  passages  occur  at 
times  with  startling  effect,  they  give  the  humble  aspect  of  prose 
to  all  that  comes  between.  But  many  of  them  are  out  of  the 
teach  of  criticism  or  of  praise.  The  allusions  to  lost  friends 
which  close  the  two  first  cantos  of  Childe  Harold  never  will  be 
read  without  emotion.  His  'Night  before  Waterloo'  will  make 
hearts  thrill  longer  than  the  victory,  and  his  '  Thunder  Storm 
in  the  Alps '  will  be  remembered  as  long  as  thunders  roll. 

We  are  bound  to  say  of  this  work,  that  the  moral  tone  is 
not  what  it  should  have  been.  Not  that  the  writer  endeavors 
to  conceal  Lord  Byron's  faults — he  tells  them  without  reserve  ; 
nor  that  he  flatters  the  moral  character  of  his  subject.  So  far 
as  he  had  any  clear  conceptions  of  a  character  so  unformed, 
he  gives  them  with  great  impartiality.  But  he  speaks  of  vices 
at  times  with  a  light  and  careless  air,  as  if  they  were  harmless 
if  not  discovered.  Still  the  moral  effect  of  his  work  will  not 
be  so  unfavorable  as  might  be  feared  ;  for,  beside  that  it  is  not 
likely  to  be  popular,  envy  is  the  very  last  feeling  which  his 
account  of  Lord  Byron  would  inspire.  Never  was  tliere  a 
more  striking  picture  of  a  man  splendidly  unhappy ;  weak  in 
character,  though  mighty  in  his  powers ;  solitary  as  a  hermit, 
though  bom  to  rank  and  fortune ;  wandering  without  pleasure 
and  reposing  without  rest ;  admired  by  millions  and  loved  by 
very  few ;  able  to  move  the  spirit  of  nations,  and  himself  like 
the  great  ocean  lifted  and  broken  by  gales  that  would  not  have 
agitated  humbler  waters.  We  freely  confess  that  we  read  his 
history  with  compassion ;  feeling  as  if  one  who  was  never 
directed  in  the  right  way,  could  hardly  be  said  to  have  wan- 
dered. But  no  such  feelings  can  deceive  us  into  an  approba- 
tion of  his  character ;  we  hold  him  up  as  a  warning,  not  as  an 
example.  We  might  have  waited  for  the  conclusion  of  this 
'  Life,'  but  for  various  reasons  thought  it  better  to  notice  the 
first  volume.  There  can  be  nothing  to  make  us  regret  that 
we  have  done  so  in  the  registry  yet  to  come.  His  hopeless 
fall  began  after  his  separation  fi'om  his  wife  and  his  retreat  from 
England.  We  have  followed  him  to  the  edge  of  the  cataract, 
and  have  no  disposition  to  see  him  dash  below. 


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«00  Tides  of  the  J^orth  Wat.  [July, 


Abt.  IX.— ToZc*  of  the  J^arth  West,  or  Sketches  of  Indian 
JJft  and  Character,  by  a  Resident  beyond  the  Frontier. 
18mo.    Boston.     1830. 

This  little  volume  is  understood  to  be  the  production  of  a 
young  writer,  who  has  grown  up  amoi^  tlie  wild  scenes  of  the 
North-Western  frontier  of  our  country,  and  bebg  now  restored 
to  the  abodes  of  civilized  life,  has  given  ua  the  fruits  of  his 
experience  in  the  form  of  tales.  We  have  had  some  reason 
to  suppose  that  the  North-West  coast  was  a  pretty  good  school, 
and  the  work  before  us  will  go  far  to  extend  this  favorable  pre- 
possession to  the  internal  regions  in  that  quarter  of  the  conti* 
nent.  Considering  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  pre'* 
pared,  we  look  upon  it  as  one  of  much  promise.  The  de- 
scriptions of  nature,  both  living  and  inanimate,  have  a  striking 
air  of  truth  and  fidelity,  and  the  style  of  exeoutiixi  is  marked 
throughout  with  great  freedom  and  power*  There  are  no 
doubt  obvious  symptoms  of  immature  taste,  and  a  too  rapid 
preparation ;  but  these  are  defects  that  are  naturally  and  easily 
corrected  when  there  is  talent  at  bottom.  If  in  his  future  at- 
tempts the  author  will  bestow  more  care  and  reflection  upon 
the  arrangement  of  hb  materials,  and  allow  himself  more  time 
for  composition  and  revision,  we  think  we  can  assure  him  a 
decided  success. 

The  characters  that  figure  in  these  narratives  are  the  In* 
dians,  the  half-breeds,  and  the  American  and  English  hunters, 
that  roam  through  the  vast  solitudes  of  the  Missouri  teiTitory, 
and  are  aU  dififerent  varieties  of  the  same  general  character. 
The  representation  given  by  our  author  of  the  manners  of  the 
natives  is  somewhat  less  poetical,  but  probably  more  true  than 
that  of  Cooper.  The  leading  traits  of  die  pictiire  are,  however, 
substantially  the  same  which  appear  in  his  delineations,  and 
which,  with  few  or  no  important  discrepancies,  have  been  assign- 
ed by  almost  all  observers  to  the  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  our 
continent.  The  Indians  furnish  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most 
favorable  specimens  of  savage  life  that  have  yet  been  met  with. 
The  striking  similarity  between  their  stale  of  society  and  thai 
of  the  ancient  Germans,  as  described  by  Tacitus,  has  been 
often  pointed  out,  particularly  by  Robertson  and  Herder,  and 
is  obvious  to  the  most  cursory  inspection.  Whether  the  natives 
of  our  continent,  had  they  been  left  to  pursue  their  own  course, 


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1 830.]  Tales  of  the  J^forHi-  West.  201 

would  have  made  a  progress  in  civilisation,  corresponding  with 
that  which  has  taken  place  in  Europe,  is  a  curious  question, 
which  it  is  now  impossible  ever  to  solve.  It  is  much  to  be  re- 
gretted, that  political  events  of  an  accidental  character  are 
likely  to  defeat  the  only  effort  that  has  yet  been  made  with  a 
probability  of  success  for  bringing  any  portion  of  the  natives 
within  the  pale  of  civilisation.  The  soudiwestern  tribes  had 
within  a  few  years  apparently  overcome  the  first  and  greatest 
obstacles  to  improvement,  and  it  is  peculiarly  unfortunate  that 
just  at  this  moment  a  combination  of  local  and  sectional  inter- 
ests should  have  operated  to  prevent  the  progress  of  this  in- 
teresting experiment,  and  probably  in  the  end  to  remove  from 
our  territory  the  tribes  in  which  it  was  going  on. 

The  tales  contained  in  the  volume  before  us  are  generally 
short.  The  longest,  entitled  the  Bois  Brule  [Burnt  Wood^ 
the  French  name  for  a  half-breed),  is  not  in  our  opinion  the 
best.  It  is  in  fact  the  one  in  which,  from  its  length,  a  want  of 
maturity  in  plan  and  style  would  naturally  be  most  observable. 
Among  the  most  spirited  and  pleasing  is  the  one  entitled  Pay-- 
ton  Skahy  or  the  White  Otter,  which  we  extract  entire  as  a 
specimen  of  the  author's  manner. 

'  We  have  before  intimated  that  we  cannot  pretend  to  much 
accuracy  with  regard  to  dates.  So  we  are  not  certain  that  the 
events  we  are  about  to  relate  did  not  happen  five  centuries  ago, 
perhaps  more ;  but  it  is  probable  that  the  time  was  not  so  re- 
mote. Be  that  as  it  may,  we  shall  give  the  facts  in  the  same  or- 
der in  which  tradition  hands  them  down. 

*  The  Dahcotahs  were  at  war  with  the  Mandans.  Many  were 
the  onslaughts  they  made  on  each  other,  and  long  were  they  re- 
membered. Among  the  Sioux  warriors  who  struck  the  post,  and 
took  the  war  path,  none  was  more  conspicuous  than  Pay  ton 
Skah,  or  the  White  Otter.  He  belonged  to  the  Yankton  band. 
When  he  returned  from  the  field  with  his  head  crowned  with 
laurels,  or,  more  properly  with  his  bridle  rein  adorned  with 
Mandan  scalps,  the  seniors  of  the  tribe  pointed  to  him  and  ex- 
horted their  sons  to  ride,  to  draw  the  bow,  and  to  strike  the  ene- 
my like  Payton  Skah. 

'  Payton  Skah  was  a  husband  and  a  father.  As  soon  as  he  was 
reckoned  a  man,  and  able  to  support  a  family,  he  had  taken  to 
his  bosom  the  young  and  graceful  Tahtokah  (The  Antelope), 
thought  to  be  the  best  hand  at  skinning  the  buffalo,  making 
moccasins,  whitening  leather,  and  preparing  marrow  fat,  in  the 
tribe.     She  was  not,  as  is  common  among  the  Dahcotahs,  car- 

voL.  XXXI. — NO.  68.  26 


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202  Talet  of  the  J^artk-fTest.  [July, 

ried  an  unwilling  or  indifferent  bride  to  her  husband's  lodge. 
No,  he  had  lighted  his  match  in  her  father's  tent,  and  held  it  be* 
fore  her  eyes,  and  she  had  blown  it  out,  as  instigated  by  love  to  do. 
And  H  hen  he  had  espoused  her  in  form,  her  affection  did  not  di- 
minish. She  never  grumbled  at  pulling  off  his  leggins  and  mocca- 
sins when  he  returned  from  the  chase,  nor  at  drying  and  rubbing 
them  till  they  became  soft  and  pliant.  A  greater  proof  of  her 
regard  was,  that  she  was  strictly  obedient  to  her  mother-in-law. 
And  Payton  Skah's  attachment,  though  his  endearments  were 
reserved  for  their  private  hours,  was  not  less  than  hers.  No  wo- 
man in  the  camp  could  show  more  wampum  and  other  ornaments 
than  the  wife  pf  the  young  warrior.  He  was  even  several  times 
known,  when  she  had  been  to  bring  home  the  meat  procured  by 
his  arrows,  to  relieve  her  of  a  part  of  the  burthen  by  taking  it 
upon  his  own  manly  shoulders.  In  due  time,  she  gave  him  a 
son  ;  a  sure  token  that  however  many  more  wives  he  might  see 
proper  to  take  he  would  never  put  her  away.  The  boy  was  the 
idol  of  his  old  grandmother,  who  could  never  suffer  him  out  of 
her  sight  a  moment,  and  used  constantly  to  prophecy,  that  he 
would  become  a  brave  warrior  and  an  expert  horse-stealer ;  a 
prediction  that  his  manhood  abundantly  verified. 

'  In  little  more  than  a  year  the  youngster  was  able  to  walk 
erect.  About  this  time  the  band  began  to  feel  the  approach  of 
famine.  Buffaloes  were  supposed  to  abound  on  the  river  Des 
Moines,  and  thither  Payton  Skah  resolved  to  go.  His  mother 
had  cut  her  foot  while  chopping  wood  and  was  unable  to  travel ; 
but  she  would  not  part  with  her  grandchild.  Tahtokah  unwil- 
lingly consented  to  leave  her  boy  behind,  at  the  request  of  her 
husband,  which  indeed  she  never  thought  of  disputing.  One 
other  family  accompanied  them.  They  soon  reached  the  Des 
Moines,  and  encamped  on  its  banks.  Many  wild  cattle  were 
killed,  and  much  of  their  flesh  was  cured.  The  young  wife 
now  reminded  her  spouse  that  his  mother  must  by  this  time  be 
able  to  walk,  and  that  she  longed  to  see  her  child.  In  compli- 
ance with  her  wishes  he  mounted  his  horse  and  departed,  re- 
solved to  bring  the  rest  of  the  band  to  the  land  of  plenty. 

*  At  his  arrival  his  compatriots,  on  his  representations,  packed 
up  their  baggage  and  threw  down  their  lodges.  A  few  days 
brought  them  to  where  he  had  lefl  his  wife  and  her  companions. 
But  the  place  was  desolate.  No  voice  hailed  their  approach ; 
no  welcome  greeted  their  arrival.  The  lodges  were  cut  to  rib- 
bons, and  a  bloody  trail  marked  where  the  bodies  of  their  in- 
mates had  been  dragged  into  the  river.  Following  the  course  of 
the  stream,  the  corpses  of  all  but  Tahtokah  were  found  on  the 
shores  and  sand-bars.  Hers  was  missing,  but  this  gave  her  hus- 
band no  consolation.     He  knew  that  neither  Sioux  nor  Mandans 


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1830.]  Taks  of  the  Mrth-fVest.  203 

spared  sex  or  age,  and  supposed  it  to  be  sunk  in  some  eddy  of 
the  river.  And  Mandans,  the  marks  the  spoilers  had  left  be- 
hind them,  proved  them  to  be. 

'  Now  Payton  Skah  was,  for  an  Indian,  a  kind  and  affectionate 
husband.  The  Sioux  mothers  wished  their  daughters  might  ob- 
tain partners  like  him ;  and  it  was  proverbial  to  say  of  a  fond 
couple,  that  they  loved  like  Payton  Skah  and  Tahtokah.  Yet 
on  this  occasion,  whatever  his  feelings  might  have  been,  he  ut- 
tered no  sigh,  he  shed  no  tear.  But  he  gave  what  was,  in  the 
eyes  of  his  co-mates,  a  more  honorable  proof  of  his  grief.  He 
vowed  that  he  would  not  take  another  wife,  nor  cut  his  hair,  till 
he  had  killed  and  scalped  five  Mandans.  And  he  filled  his  quiv- 
er, saddled  his  horse,  and  raised  the  war-song  immediately.  He 
found  followers,  and  departed  incontinently.  At  his  return  but 
three  obstacles  to  his  second  marriage  remained  to  be  overcome. 

*  In  the  course  of  the  year  he  fulfilled  the  conditions  of  his 
vow.  The  five  scalps  were  hanging  in  the  smoke  of  his  lodge, 
but  he  evinced  no  inclination  towards  matrimony.  On  the  con- 
trary, his  countenance  was  sorrowful,  he  pined  away,  and  every 
one  thought  he  was  in  a  consumption.  His  mother  knew  his 
disposition  better.  Thinking,  not  unwisely,  that  the  best  way 
to  drive  the  old  love  out  of  his  head  was  ■  to  provide  him  a  new 
one,  she,  with  true  female  perseverance,  compelled  him  by  teaz- 
ing  and  clamor  to  do  as  she  wished. 

*  So  the  old  woman  selected  Chuntay  Washtay  (The  Good 
Heart),  for  her  son,  and  demanded  her  of  her  parents,  who  were 
not  sorry  to  form  such  a  connexion.  The  bride  elect  herself 
showed  no  alacrity  in  the  matter ;  but  this  was  too  common  a 
thing  to  excite  any  surprise  or  comment.  She  was  formally 
made  over  to  Payton  Skah,  and  duly  installed  in  his  lodge. 

*  He  was  not  formed  by  nature  to  be  alone.  Notwithstanding 
the  contempt  an  Indian  education  inculcates  for  the  fair  sex,  he 
was  as  sensible  to  female  blandishments  as  a  man  could  be. 
Though  his  new  wife  was  by  no  means  so  kind  as  the  old  one, 
yet  as  she  fulfilled  the  duties  of  her  station  with  all  apparent  de- 
corum, he  began  to  be  attached  to  her.  His  health  improved, 
he  was  again  heard  to  laugh,  and  he  hunted  the  buffalo  with  as 
much  vigor  as  ever.  Yet  when  Chuntay  Washtay,  as  she  some- 
times would,  raised  her  voice  higher  than  was  consistent  with 
conjugal  affection,  he  would  think  of  his  lost  Tahtokah  and 
struggle  to  keep  down  the  rising  sigh. 

*  A  young  Yankton  who  had  asked  Chuntay  Washtay  of  her 
parents  previous  to  her  marriage,  and  who  had  been  rejected  by 
them,  now  became  a  constant  visiter  in  her  husband's  lodge.  He 
came  early,  and  staid  and  smdked  late.  But  as  Payton  Skah 
saw  no  appearance  of  regard  for  the  youth  in  his  wife,  he  felt  no 


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204  Tales  of  the  JVorth-West.  [July, 

uneasiness.  If  he  had  seen  what  was  passing  in  her  mind,  he 
would  have  scorned  to  exhibit  any  jealousy.  He  wotild  have 
proved  by  his  demeanor  '  that  his  heart  was  strong.'  He  was 
destined  ere  long  to  be  more  enlightened  on  this  point. 

'  His  mother  was  gone  with  his  child,  on  a  visit  to  a  neigh* 
boring  camp,  and  he  was  left  alone  with  his  wife.  It  was  re- 
ported that  buffaloes  were  to  be  found  at  a  little  oasis  in  the  prair 
rie,  at  about  the  distance  of  a  day's  journey,  and  Chuntay  Wasb* 
tay  desired  him  to  go  and  kill  one,  and  hang  its  flesh  up  in  a 
tree  out  of  (he  reach  of  the  wolves.  "  You  cannot  get  back  to 
night,"  she  said,  '^  but  you  can  make  a  fire  and^sleep  by  it,  and 
return  to  morrow.  If  fat  cows  are  to  be  found  there  we  will 
take  down  our  lodge  and  move." 

*  The  White  Otter  did  as  he  was  desired.  His  wife  brought* 
his  beautiful  black  horse,  which  he  had  selected  and  stolen  from 
a  drove  near  the  Mandan  village,  to  the  door  of  the  lodge.  He 
threw  himself  on  its  back,  and  having  listened  to  her  entreaties 
that  he  would  be  back  soon,  rode  away. 

*  His  gallant  steed  carried  him  to  the  place  of  his  destination 
with  the  speed  of  the  wind.  The  buffaloes  were  plenty,  and  in 
the  space  of  two  hours  he  had  killed  and  cut  up  two  of  them. 
Having  hung  the  meat  upon  the  branches,  he  concluded  that  as 
he  had  got  some  hours  of  daylight,  he  would  return  to  his  wife. 
He  applied  the  lash,  and  arrived  at  the  camp  at  midnight. 

*  He  picketed  his  horse  carefully,  and  bent  his  way  to  his  own 
lodge. ',  All  was  silent  within,  and  the  dogs,  scenting  their  mas- 
ter, gave  no  alarm.  He  took  up  a  handful  of  dry  twigs  outside 
the  door  and  entered.  Raking  open  the  coals  in  the  centre  of 
the  lodge,  he  laid  on  the  fuel,  which  presently  blazed  and  gave 
a  bright  light.  By  its  aid  he  discovered  a  spectacle  that  drove 
the  blood  from  his  heart  into  his  face.  There  lay  Chantay 
Washtay,  fast  asleep  by  the  side  of  her  quondam  lover.  Payton 
Skah  unsheathed  his  knife  and  stood  for  a  moment  irresolute  ; 
but  his  better  feelings  prevailing,  he  returned  it  to  its  place  in 
his  belt,  and  lefl  the  lodge  without  awakening  them.  Going  to 
another  place,  he  laid  himself  down,  but  not  to  sleep. 

'  BiXt  when  the  east  began  to  be  streaked  with  grey,  he  brought 
his  horse,  his  favorite  steed,  to  the  door  of  the  tent.  Just  as  he 
reached  it,  those  within  awoke,  and  the  paramour  of  Chantaj 
Washtay  came  forth  and  stood  before  him.  He  stood  atilL 
Fear  of  the  famous  hunter  and  renowned  warrior  kept  him  silent. 
Payton  Skah,  in  a  stern  voice,  commanded  him  to  reenter  ;  and 
when  he  had  obeyed  followed  him  in.  The  guilty  wife  spoke 
not,  but  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  till  her  husband  di- 
rected her  to  light  a  fire  and  prepare  food.  She  then- rose  and 
hung  the  earthen  utensil  over  the  fire,  and  the  repast  was  soon 


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1830.]  Tdea  €f  the  J^Tiyrtk'West.    .  205 

ready.  At  the  oommand  of  ^ayton  Skah  she  placed  a  wooden 
pl^ttar  or  bowl  before  him,  and  another  for  his  unwilling  guest. 
This  last  had  now  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  he  was  to  die, 
and  had  screwed  up  his  courage  to  meet  his  fate  with  the  unr 
shrinking  fortitude  of  an  Indian  warrior.  He  ate,  therefore,  in 
silence,  but  without  any  sign  of  concern.  When  the  repast  was 
ended,  Payton  Skah  produced  his  pipe,  filled  the  bowl  with  to- 
bacco mixed  with  the  inner  bark  of  the  red  willow,  and,  after 
smoking  a  few  whilTs  himself,  gave  it  to  the  culprit.  Having 
passed  from  one  to  the  other  till  it  was  finished,  the  aggrieved 
husband  ordered  his  wife  to  produce  her  clothing  and  effiscts, 
and  pack  them  up  in  a  bundle.     This  done  he  rose  to  speak. 

*  "  Another  in  my  place,"  he  said  to  the  young  man,  **  had  he 
detected  you  as  I  did  last  night,  would  have  driven  an  arrow 
through  you  before  you  awoke.  But  my  heart  is  strong,  and  I 
have  hold  of  the  heart  of  Chantay  Washtay.  You  sought  her 
before  I  did,  and  I  see  she  would  rather  be  your  companion  than 
mine.  She  is  yours  ;  and  that  you  may  be  able  to  support  her, 
take  my  horse,  and  my  bow  and  arrows  also.  Take  her  and  de^ 
part,  and  let  peace  be  between  us." 

'  At  this  speech,  the  wife,  who  had  been  trembling  lest  her 
nose  should  be  cut  off,  and  her  lover,  who  had  e]q>ected  nothing 
less  than  death,  recovered  their  assurance  and  •  left  the  lodge. 
Payton  Skah  remained ;  and  while  the  whole  band  was  singing 
his  generosity,  brooded  over  his  misfortunes  in  sadness  and  si- 
lence. 

'  Notwithstanding  his  boast  of  the  firmness  of  his  resolution,  his 
mind  was  nearly  unsettled  by  the  shock.  He  had  set  his  whole 
heart  upon  Tahtokah,  and  when  the  wound  occasioned  by  his 
loss  was  healed,  he  had  loved  Chantay  Washtay  with  all  his 
might.  He  could  vaunt  of  his  indifference  to  any  ill  that  woman 
could  inflict  to  the  warriors  of  his  tribe,  but  the  boast  that  they 
could  have  truly  made,  was  not  true  coming  from  him. 

'  Though  one  of  the  bravest  of  men,  his  heart  was  as  soft  as  a 
woman's,  in  spite  of  precept  and  example.  At  this  second  blight 
of  his  affections,  he  fell  into  a  settled  melanchdy,  and  one  or  two 
unsuccessful  hunts  convinced  him  that  he  was  a  doomed  man ; 
an  object  of  the  displeasure  of  God ;  and  that  he  need  never 
more  look  for  any  good  fortune.  A  post  dance,  at  which  the 
performers  alternately  sung  their  exploits,  brought  this  morbid 
state  of  feeling  to  a  crisis.  Like  the  rest,  he  recounted  the 
deeds  he  had  done,  and  declared  that  to  expiate  the  involuntary 
offence  he  had  committed  against  the  Great  Spirit,  he  would  go 
to  the  Mandan  village  and  throw  away  his  body.  AH  expostula^ 
tion  was  vain ;  and  the  next  morning  he  started  on  foot  and 
alone  to  put  his  purpose  in  execution. 


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206  Tdles  of  the  J^orth-fVest.  [Jul 

'  He  travelled  onward  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  the  eighth 
evening  found  him  on  the  bank  of  the  Missouri,  opposite  the 
Mandan  village.  He  swam  the  river,  and  saw  the  lights  shine 
through  the  crevices,  and  heard  the  dogs  bark  at  his  approach. 
Nothing  dismayed,  he  entered  the  village,  and  promenaded 
through  it  two  or  three  times.  He  saw  no  man  abroad,  and  im- 
patient of  delay,  entered  the  principal  lodge.  Within  he  found 
two  women,  who  spoke  to  him,  but  he  did  not  answer.  He 
drew  his  robe  over  his  face,  and  sat  down  in  a  dark  corner,  in- 
tending to  await  the  entrance  of  some  warrior,  by  whose  hands 
he  might  honorably  die.  The  women  addressed  him  repeatedly, 
but  could  not  draw  from  him  any  reply.  Finding  him  impene- 
trable, they  took  no  further  notice,  but  continued  their  conver- 
sation as  if  no  one  had  been  present.  Had  they  known  to  what 
tribe  he  belonged  they  would  have  fled  in  terror ;  but  they  sup- 
posed him  to  b^  a  Mandan.  H«  gathered  from  it  that  the  men 
of  the  village  were  all  gone  to  the  buffalo  hunt,  and  would  not 
return  till  morning.  Most  of  the  females  were  with  them.  Here 
then,  was  an  opportunity  to  wreak  his  vengeance  on  the  tribe 
such  as  had  never  before  occurred,  and  would  probably  never 
occur  again.  But  he  refrained  in  spite  of  his  Indian  nature. 
He  had  not  come  to  kill  any  one  as  on  former  occasions,  but  to 
lay  down  his  own  life ;  and  he  remained  constant  in  his  resolu- 
tion. 

'  If  it  be  asked  why  the  Mandans  lefl  their  village  in  this  de- 
fenceless condition,  we  answer,  that  Indian  camps  are  frequently 
lefl  in  the  same  manner.  Perhaps  they  relied  on  the  broad  and 
rapid  river,  to  keep  off  any  roving  band  of  Dahcotahs  that  might 
come  thither.  Payton  Skah  sat  in  the  lodge  of  his  enemies  till 
the  tramp  of  a  horse  on  the  frozen  earth,  and  the  jingling  of  the 
little  bells  round  his  neck,  announced  that  a  warrior  had  return- 
ed from  the  hunt.  Then  the  White  Otter  prepared  to  go  to 
whatever  lodge  the  Mandan  might  enter,  and  die  by  his  arrows 
or  tomahawk.  But  he  had  no  occasion  to  stir.  The  horseman 
rode  straight  to  the  lodge  in  which  he  sat,  dismounted,  threw 
his  bridle  to  a  squaw,  and  entered.  The  women  pointed  to  their 
silent  guest,  and  related  how  unaccountably  he  had  behaved. 
The  new  comer  turned  to  Payton  Skah  and  asked  who  and  what 
he  was.  Then  the  Yankton,  like  Caius  Marius  within  the  walls 
of  Corioli,  rose,  threw  off  his  robe,  and,  drawing  himself  up 
with  great  dignity,  bared  his  breast  and  spoke.  ''  I  am  a  man. 
Of  that,  Mandan,  be  assured.  Nay,  more  :  I  am  a  Dahcotah, 
and  my  name  is  Payton  Skah.  You-  have  heard  it  before.  I 
have  lost  friends  and  kin  by  the  arrows  of  your  people,  and  well 
have  I  revenged  them.  See,  on  my  head  I  wear  ten  feathers  of 
the  war-eagle.     Now  it  is  the  will  of  the  Master  of  life  that  I 


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183O0  TOes  of  the  Norih-  West.  207 

should  die,  and  to  that  purpose  came  I  hither.     Strike,  there- 
fore, and  rid  your  tribe  of  the  greatest  enemy  it  ever  had." 

'  Courage,  among  the  aborigines,  as  charity  among  Christians, 
covereth  a  multitude  of  sins.  The  Mandan  warrior  cast  on  his 
undaunted  foe  a  look  in  which  respect,  delight,  and  admiration 
were  blended.  He  raised  his  war-club  as  if  about  to  strike,  but 
the  Siou  blenched  not ;  not  a  nerve  trembled — his  eyelids  did 
not  quiver.  The  weapon  dropped  from  the  hand  that  held  it. 
The  Mandan  tore  open  his  own  vestment,  and  said,  ''  No,  I  will 
not  kill  so  brave  a  man.  But  I  will  prove  that  my  people  are 
men  also.  I  will  not  be  outdone  in  generosity.  Strike  thou ; 
then  take  my  horse  and  fly." 

'  The  Siou  declined  the  offer,  and  insisted  upon  being  himself 
the  victim.  The  Mandan  was  equally  pertinacious ;  and  this 
singular  dispute  lasted  till  the  latter  at  last  held  out  his  hand  in 
token  of  amity.  He  commanded  the  women  to  prepare  a  feast, 
and  the  two  generous  foes  sat  down  and  smoked  together.  The 
brave  of  the  Missouri  accounted  for  speaking  the  Dahcotah 
tongue  by  saying  that  he  was  himself  half  a  Siou.  His  mother 
had  belonged  to  that  tribe  and  so  did  his  wife,  having  both  been 
made  prisoners.  In  the  morning  Payton  Skah  should  see  and 
converse  with  them.  And  the  Yankton  proffered,  since  it  did 
not  appear  to  be  the  will  of  the  Great  Spirit  that  he  should  die, 
to  become  the  instrument  to  bring  about  a  firm  and  lasting 
peace  between  the  two  nations. 

'  '  In  the  morning  the  rest  of  the  band  arrived,  and  were  inform- 
ed what  visitor  was  in  the  village.  The  women  screamed  with 
rage  and  cried  for  revenge.  The  men  grasped  their  weapons 
and  rushed  tumultuously  to  the  lodge  to  obtain  it.  A  great 
clamor  ensued.  The  Mandan  stood  before  the  door,  declaring 
that  he  would  guarantee  the.  rights  of  hospitality  with  his  life. 
His  resolute  demeanor,  as  well  as  the  bow  and  war  club  he  held 
ready  to  make  his  words  good,  made  the  impression  he  desired. 
The  Mandans  recoiled,  consulted,  and  the  elders  decided  that 
Payton  Skah  must  be  carried  as  a  prisoner  to  the  council-lodge, 
there  to  abide  the  result  of  their  deliberations. 

'  Payton  Skah,  indifferent  to  whatever  might  befall  him,  walk- 
ed proudly  to  the  place  appointed  in  the  midst  of  a  guard  of 
Mandans,  and  accompanied  by  the  taunts  and  execrations  of  the 
squaws.  The  preliminary  of  smoking  over,  the  consultation  did 
not  last  long.  His  new  friend  related  how  the  prisoner  had 
entered  the  village,  alone  and  unarmed,  save  with  his  knife  ;  how 
he  had  magnanimously  spared  the  women  and  children  when  at 
his  mercy ;  and  how  he  had  offered  to  negotiate  a  peace  between 
the  two  tribes.  Admiration  of  his  valor  overcame  the  hostility 
of  the  Mandans.     Their  hatred  vanished  like  snow  before  the 


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208  TaUi  of  the  Jiarth-West.  [July, 

8UD,  and  il  was  carried  by  acclarnation,  that  he  shoald  h^  treated 
a£r  became  an  Indian  brave,  and  dismissed  in  safety  and  with 
honor. 

'  At  this  stage  of  the  proceedings  a  woman  rushed  into  the  lodge, 
broke  through  the  circle  of  stern  and  armed  warriors,  and  threw 
herself  into  the  arms  of  the  Dahcotah  hero.  It  was  Tahtokah, 
his  first,  his  best  beloved  !  He  did  not  return  her  caresses;  that 
would  have  derogated  from  his  dignity ;  but  he  asked  her  how 
she  had  escaped  from  the  general  slaughter  at  the  Des  Moines, 
and  who  was  her  present  husband. 

'  She  pointed  to  the  Mandan  to  whom  he  had  oilered  his  breast. 
He  it  was,  she  said,  who  had  spared  her,  and  subsequently  taken 
her  to  wife.  He  bow  advanced  and  proposed  to  Payton  Skah 
to  be  come  his  kodak,  or  comrade,  and  to  receive  his  wife  back 
again,  two  propositions  to  which  the  latter  gladly  assented.  For 
according  to  the  customs  of  the  Dahcotahs,  a  wife  may  be  lent 
to  one's  kodah  without  any  impropriety. 

'  The  Mandans  devoted  five  days  to  feasting  the  gallant  Yank- 
ton. At  the  end  of  that  time  he  departed  with  his  recovered 
wife,  taking  with  him  three  horses  laden  with  robes  Atid  other 
giils  bestowed  on  him  by  his  late  enemies.  His  kodah  accompa- 
nied him  half  way  on  his  return,  with  a  numerous  retinue,  and 
at  parting  received  his  promise  that  he  would  soon  return.  We 
leave  our  readers  to  imagine  the  joy  of  TahCokah  at  seeing  her 
child  again  on  her  arrivsd  among  the  Sioux,  as  well  as  the  satis- 
fection  of  the  tribe  at  hearing  that  its  best  man  had  returned 
from  his  perilous  excursion  alive  and  unhurt.  In  less  than  two 
months  Payton  Skah  Was  again  among  the  Mandans  with  six 
followers,  who  were  hospitably  received  and  entertained.  An 
equal  number  of  Mandans  accompanied  them  on  their  return 
home,  where  they  experienced  the  like  treatment.  As  the  inter- 
course between  the  tribes  became  more  frequent  hostilities  were 
discontinued,  and  the  feelings  that  prompted  them  were  in  time 
forgotten.  The  peace  brought  about  as  above  related  has  con- 
tinued without  interruption  to  this  day.  As  to  Payton  Skah,  he 
recovered  his  health  and  spirits,  was  successful  in  war  and  the 
chase,  and  was  finally  convinced  that  the  curse  of  the  Almighty 
had  departed  from  him. 

Weenokhenchah  Wandeeteekah^  or  the  Brave  Woman,  is 
another  very  agreeable  story.  The  hero,  Toskatnmjy  or  the 
Woodpecker,  is  represented  as  a  young  Dahecftah  of  high  pre- 
tensions on  the  score  of  intellectual  and  personal  merit.  He  is 
rescued  from  an  imminent  danger  by  the  courage  and  presence 
of  mind  of  a  copper-colored  beauty,  bearing  die  formidable 


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1830.]  Teles  of  the  JSTorth-West.  209 

name  just  quoted,  and  without  much  previous  attachment  mar- 
ries her  out  of  gratitude.  A  well-stocked  harem  is,  it  seems, 
one  of  tlie  principal  means  of  political  advancement  among  the 
Indians ;  and  our  Woodpecker,  being  of  an  ambitious  turn, 
after  a  while  espouses  a  second  wife,  of  whose  name  we  are 
not  informed,  but  who  is  the  daughter  of  a  leading  Chief,  called 
the  Heron.  The  two  dames  very  naturally  quarrel,  and  out 
of  their  differences  grows  the  distress  of  the  tale.  We  extract 
the  conclusion,  which  begins  with  a  pleasing  description  of  the 
Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  on  the  Upper  Mississippi. 

'  There  is  nothing  of  the  grandeur  or  sublimity,  which  the  eye 
aches  to  behold  at  Niagara,  about  the  falls  of  St.  Anthony.  But 
in  wild  and  picturesque  beauty  it  is  perhaps  unequalled.  Flow- 
ing over  a  tract  of  country  five  hundred  miles  in  extent,  the  river, 
here  more  than  half  a  mile  wide,  breaks  into  sheets  of  foam  and 
rushes  to  the  pitch  over  a  strongly  inclined  plane.  The  fall  itself 
is  not  high,  we  believe  only  sixteen  feet  perpendicular,  but  its 
face  is  broken  and 'irregular.  Huge  slabs  of  rock  lie  scattered 
below,  in  wild  disorder.  Some  stand  on  their  edges,  leaning 
against  the  ledge  from  which  they  have  been  disunited.  Some 
lie  piled  upon  each  other  in  the  water,  in  inimitable  confusion. 
A  loner,  narrow  island  divides  the  fall  nearly  in  the  middle.  Its 
eastern  side  is  not  perpendicular,  but  broken  into  three  distinct 
leaps,  below  which  the  twisting  and  twirling  eddies  threaten 
destruction  to  any  living  thing  that  enters  them.  On  the  west- 
ern side,  in  the  boiling  rapids  below,  a  few  rods  from  the  fall, 
stands  a  little  island,  of  a  few  yards  area ;  rising  steep  from 
the  waters,  and  covered  with  forest  trees.  At  the  time  of  our 
story,  its  mightiest  oak  was  the  haunt  of  a  solitary  bald  eagle, 
that  had  built  his  eyrie  on  the  topmost  branches,  beyond  the 
reach  of  man.  It  was  occupied  by  his  posterity  till  the  year 
eighteen  hundred  and  twenty-three,  when  the  time-honored  crest 
of  the  vegetable  monarch  bowed  and  gave  way  before  the  north- 
ern tempest.  The  little  islet  was  believed  inaccessible,  till  two 
daring  privates  of  the  fifth  regiment,  at  very  low  Water,  waded 
out  in  the  river  above,  and  ascending  the  fall  by  means  of  the 
blocks  of  stone  before  mentioned,  forded  the  intervening  space, 
and  were  the  first  of  their  species  that  ever  set  foot  upon  it. 

*  Large  trunks  of  trees  frequently  drift  over,  and  diving  into 
the  chasms  of  the  rocks,  never  appear  again.  The  loon,  or  great 
northern  diver,  is  also,  at  moulting  time,  when  he  is  unable  to 
rise  from  the  water,  often  caught  in  the  rapids.  When  he  finds 
himself  drawn  in,  he  struggles  with  fate  for  a  while,  but  finding 
escape  impossible,  he  faces  downwards  and  goes  over,  screaming 

Foii.  XXXI. — ^No.  68.  27 


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210  Tales  of  the  Xorth-West.  [July, 

horribly.  These  birds  sometimes  make  the  descent  unhurt. 
Below,  the  rapids  foam  and  roar  and  tumble  for  half  a  mile,  and 
then  subside  into  the  clear,  gentle  x^urrent  that  continues  un- 
broken to  the  Rock  River  Rapids ;  and  at  high  water  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico.  Here  too,  the  high  bluffs  which  enclose  the 
Mississippi  commence.  Such  was  the  scene  at  the  time  of  this 
authentic  history,  but  now  it  is  mended  or  marred,  according  to 
the  taste  of  the  spectator,  by  the  works  of  the  sons  of  Adam.  It 
can  shew  its  buildings,  its  saw-mill,  its  grist-mill,  its  cattle,  and 
its  cultivated  fields.  Nor  is  it  unadorned  with  traditional  honors. 
A  Siou  can  tell  you  how  the  enemy  in  the  darkness  of  midnight, 
deceived  by  the  false  beacons  lighted  by  his  ancestors,  paddled 
his  cange  into  the  rapids,  from  which  he  never  issued  alive.  He 
can  give  a  good  guess  too,  what  ghosts  haunt  the  spot,  and  what 
spirits  abide  there. 

'  To  return  to  our  story  :  Toskatnay  and  his  band  passed  the 
falls  and  raised  their  lodges  a  few  rods  above  the  rapids.  It  so 
happened  that  evening,  that  a  violent  quarrel  arose  between  the 
two  wives,  which  the  presence  of  some  of  the  elders  only,  pre- 
vented from  ending  in  cuffing  and  scratching.  When  the  master 
of  the  lodge  returned,  he  rebuked  them  both,  but  the  weight  of 
his  anger  feH  on  Weenokhenchah  Wandeeteekah,  though  in  fact, 
the  dispute  had  been  fastened  on  her  by  the  other.  She  replied 
nothing  to  his  reproaches,  but  his  words  sunk  deep  into  her 
bosom,  for  he  had  spoken  scornfully  of  her,  saying  that  no  Siou 
had  so  pitiful  a  wife  as  himself  She  sobbed  herself  to  sleep, 
and  when  the  word  was  given  in  the  morning  to  strike  the  tents, 
she  was  the  first  to  rise  and  set  about  it. 

*  While  the  business  of  embarkation  was  going  on,  it  so 
chanced  that  the  child  of  the  pobr  woman  crawled  in  the  way  of 
her  rival,  and  received  a  severe  kick  from  her.  This  was  too 
much  for  the  mother.  Vociferating  such  terms  as  are  current 
only  at  Billingsgate  and  in  Indian  camps,  for  squaws  are  not 
remarkable  for  delicacy  of  expression,  she  fastened  upon  the 
Heron's  daughter  tooth  and  nail,  who  was  not  slow  to  return  the 
compliment.  Luckily  their  knives  were  wrested  from  them  by 
the  by-standers,  or  one  or  both  would  have  been  killed  on  the 
spot.  This  done,  the  men  laughed  and  the  women  screamed, 
but  none  offered  to  part  them,  till  Toskatnay,  who  was  busy  at 
the  other  end  of  the  camp,  patching  a  birch  canoe,  heard  the 
noise,  and  came  and  separated  them  by  main  force.  He  was 
highly  indignant  at  an  occurrence  that  must  bring  ridicule  upon 
him.  The  Heron's  daughter  he  reproved,  but  Weenokhenchah 
Wandeeteekah  he  struck  with  his  paddle  repeatedly,  and  threat- 
ened to  put  her  away.  This  filled  the  cup  of  her  misery  to 
overflowing :  she  looked  at  him  indignantly  and  said,  ''  You  shall 


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1 830.]  Tdes  of  the  J^orthr  JVest  2 1 1 

Qev^r  reproach  me  again."  She  took  up  her  child  and  moved 
away,  but  he,  thinking  it  no  more  than  an  ordinary  fit  of  suUen- 
ness,  paid  no  attention  to  her  motions. 

*  His  unkindness  at  this  time  had  the  effect  of  confirming  a 
a  project  that  she  had  long  revolved  in  her  mind,  and  she  hasten- 
ed to  put  it  in  execution.  She  embarked  in  a  canoe  with  her 
child,  and  pushing  from  the  shore,  entered  the  rapids  before  she 
was  perceived.  When  she  was  seen,  both  men  and  women, 
among  whom  her  husband  was  the  most  earnest,  followed  her  on 
the  shore,  entreating  her  to  land  ere  it  was  too  late.  The  river 
was  high,  so  that  it  was  impossible  to  intercept  her,  yet  Toskat- 
nay,  finding  his  entreaties  of  no  avail,  would  have  thrown  himself 
into  the  water  to  reach  the  canoe,  had  he  not  been  withheld  by 
his  followers.  Had  this  demonstration  of  interest  occurred  the 
day  before,  it  is  possible  that  her  purpose  would  have  been  forgot- 
ten. As  it  was,  she  shook  her  open  hand  at  him  in  scorn,  and 
held  up  his  child  for  him  to  gaze  at.  She  then  began  to  sing, 
and  her  song  ran  thus. 

*  "  A  ploud  has  come  over  me.  My  joys  are  turned  to  grief. 
Life  has  become  a  burden  too  heavy  to  bear,  and  it  only  remains 
to  die. 

*  "  The  Great  Spirit  calls,  I  hear  his  voice  in  the  roaring  waters. 
Soon,  soon,  shall  they  close  over  my  head,  and  my  song  shall  bQ 
heard  no  more. 

*  "  Turn  thine  eyes  hither,  proud  chief.  Thou  art  brave  in 
battle,  and  all  are  silent  when  thou  speakest  in  council.  Thou 
hast  met  death,  and  hast  not  been  afraid. 

'  '*  Thou  hast  braved  the  knife,  and  the  axe  ;  and  the  shafl  of 
the  enemy  has  passed  harmless  by  thee. 

*  "  Thou  hast  seen  the  warrior  fall.  Thou  hast  heard  him 
speak  bitter  words  with  his  last  breath. 

' ''  But  hast  thou  ever  seen  him  dare  mpre  thap  a  woman  is 
about  to  do  ? 

*  "  Many  speak  of  thy  deeds.  Old  and  young  echo  thy  praises. 
Thou  art  the  star  the  young  men  look  upon,  and  thy  name  shall 
be  long  heard  in  the  land. 

*  "  But  when  men  tell  of  thy  exploits,  they  shall  say,  '  He  slew 
his  wife  also  !'     Shame  shall  attend  thy  memory. 

*  "  I  slew  the  ravenous  beast  that  was  about  to  destroy  thee.  I 
planted  thy  cdrn,  and  made  thee  garments  and  moccasins. 

*  "When  thou  wast  an  hungred,  I  gave  thee  to  eat,  and  when 
thou  wast  athirst,  I  brought  thee  cold  water.  I  brought  thee  a 
son  also,  and  I  never  disobeyed  thy  commands. 

*  "  And  this  is  my  reward  !  Thou  hast  laughed  at  me.  Thou 
hast  given  me  bitter  words,  and  struck  me  heavy  blows. 


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212  Tales  of  the  J^orthrWe^t.  [July, 

' "  Thou  hast  preferred  another  before  me,  and  thou  hast  driven 
me  to  wish  for  the  approach  of  death,  as  for  the  coming  winter. 

* "  My  child,  my  child  !  Life  is  a  scene  of  sorrow.  I  had  not 
the  love  of  a  mother,  did  I  not  snatch  thee  from  the  woes  thou 
must  endure. 

*  "Adorn  thy  wife  with  ornaments  of  white  metal,  Toskatnay. 
Hang  beads  about  her  neck.  Be  kind  to  her,  and  see  if  she  will 
ever  be  to  thee  as  I." ' 

*  So  saying,  or  rather  singing,  she  went  over  the  fall  with  her 

child,  and  they  were  seen  no  more. 

*  ••••••• 

*  One  year  precisely  from  this  time,  Toskatnay  followed  the 
track  of  a  bear  which  he  had  wounded,  to  the  brink  of  the  falls. 
He  halted  opposite  the  spot  where  Weenokhenchah  Wandeetee- 
kah  had  disappeared,  and  gazed  on  the  foaming  rapid.     What 
was  passing  in  his  mind  it  is  impossible  to  say.     He  had  reached 
the  summit  of  his  ambition.     He  was  acknowledged  a  chief,  and 
be  had  triumphed  over  the  Beaver  and  the  Chippeways.     But  she 
for  whose  sake  he  had  spurned  the  sweetest  flowers  of  life,  true 
love  and  fond  fidelity,  had  proved  faithless  to  him,  and  fled  to  the 
Missouri  with  another  man.     He  had  nothing  farther  to  look  for, 
no  higher  eminence  to  attain,  and  his  reflections  were  like  those 
of  him  who'  wept  because  he  had  no  more  worlds  to  conquer. 
A  strange  occurrence  roused  him  from  his  reverie.     A  snow- 
white  doe,  followed  by  a  fawn  of  the  same  color,  came  suddenly 
within  the  sphere  of  his  vision  ;  so  suddenly,  that  they  seemed 
to  him  to  come  out  of  the  water.     Such  a  sight  had  never  before 
been  seen  by  any  of  his  tribe.     He  stood  rooted  to  the  ground. 
He  who  had  never  feared  the  face  of  man,  trembled  like  an  aspen 
with  superstitious  terror.     The  animals,  regardless  of  his  pre- 
sence, advanced  slowly  towards  him  and  passed  so  near  that  he 
might  have  touched  them  with  his  gun.     They  ascended  the 
bank  and  he  lost  sight  of  them.     When  they  were  fairly  out  of 
sight,  he  recovered  from  the  shock,  and  stretching  out  his  arms 
after  them,  conjured  them  to  return.     Finding  his  adjurations 
vain,  he  rushed  up  the  bank,  but  could  see  nothing  of  them, 
which  was  the  more  remarkable  as  the  prairie  had  just  been 
burned  over,  and  for  a  mile  there  was  no  wood  or  inequality  in 
the  ground,  that  could  have  concealed  a  much  smaller  animal 
than  a  deer. 

'  He  returned  to  his  lodge,  made  a  solemn  feast,  at  which  his 
relatives  were  assembled,  and  sung  his  death-song.  He  told  his 
wondering  auditors 'that  he  had  received  a  warning  to  prepare 
for  his  final  change.  He  had  seen  the  spirits  of  his  wife  and 
child.  No  one  presumed  Jo  contradict  his  opinion.  Whether 
founded  in  reason  or  not,  it  proved  true  in  point  of  fact.     Three 


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1830.]     *  Stewarfs  Moral  Philosophy.  213 

weeks  after,  the  camp  was  attacked  by  the  Chippeways.      They 
were  repulsed,  but  Toskatnay,  and  he  only,  was  killed. 

*  No  stone  telJs  where  he  lies,  nor  can  any  of  the  Dahcotahs 
shew  the  spot.  His  deeds  are  forgotten,  or  at  best,  faintly 
remembered ;  thus  showing  ''  on  what  foundation  stands  the 
warrior's  pride ;"  but  his  wife  still  lives  in  the  memory  of  her 
people,  who  speak  of  her  by  the  name  of  Weenokhenchah 
Wandeeteekah,  or  the  Brave  Woman.' 


ArI!'.  X. — The  Philosophy  of  the  Active  and  Moral  Powers 
of  Man.  By  Dvgald  Stevmrt.  2vols.  8vo.  Edinburgh. 
1828. 

The  name  of  Dugald  Stewart  is  one  of  the  few,  which,  of 
late  years,  serve  to  relieve  in  part  the  character  of  the  mother 
country  from  the  charge  of  a  comparative  neglect  of  the  great 
sciences  of  intellectual  and  moral  philosophy.  His  writings 
upon  these  all-important  subjects,  if  not  the  most  powerful,  are 
perhaps  the  most  engaging  in  form,  and  consequently  the  most 
attractive  to  the  general  reader,  in  the.  language.  .In  the  works 
of  the  late  Dr.  Parr,  we  find  a  complimentary  note  addressed 
to  Stewart,  in  which  he  is  described  as  superior,  for  the  union  of 
fine  taste  and  deep  thought,  to  all  other  writers  since  tlie  time 
of  Bacon.  This  eulogy  partakes  of  the  exaggeration,  which 
habitually  marked  the  manner  of  the  great  Hellenist.  Various 
writers,  posterior  to  Bacon,  might  be  mentioned,  who  combined 
with  at  least  an  equal  command  of  language  a  higher  power  of 
original  thinking,  as,  for  instance,  Shaftsbury,  Berkeley,  Hume, 
Burke,  and  Adam  Smith.  But  none  of  these  or  of  the  others, 
who  might  fairly  be  considered  as  belonging  to  this  class,  with 
the  exception  perhaps  of  Hume,  have  pretended  to  give  us  a 
complete  body  of  intellectual  and  moral  science ;  and  the  re- 
mark of  Parr,  if  considered  as  limited  to  such  as  have  done 
this,  might  be  received  as  substantially  true.  Locke,  with  a 
much  superior  power  of  thought,  and  with  a  plain,  manly,  and 
substantially  good  style,  wants  taste  and  elegance,  and  is  un- 
doubtedly, on  the  whole,  much  less  attractive.  Hume  was 
perhaps  superior  in  taste  as  well  as  natural  acuteness  and  saga- 
city ta  Stewart ;  but  such  were  the  strange  aberrations  of  his 
btellect,  when  applied  to  the  study  of  metaphysics  and  morals, 


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314  Stewarfs  Moral  Philosophy.  [^^i 

that  his  works  on  these  subjects  have  little  or  no  value^  except* 
ing  as  curious  indications  of  the  progress  of  learning,  and  of  its 
state  at  a  particular  period.  Reid,  the  founder  of  the  Edin- 
burgh school,  was  deficient  in  the  graces  of  manner,  which 
belonged  to  his  pupil,  who  is,  therefore,  on  the  whole,  at  pres- 
ent, and  will  probably  long  remain,  among  English  authors,  the 
most  popular  professor  of  moral  science. 

The  praise  of  exhibitmg,  with  taste  and  elegance,  the  results 
of  a  somewhat  limited  power  of  thinking,  may  perhaps  appear, 
at  first  view,  to  be  not  very  high ;  but  when  we  look  through 
the  history  of  learning,  and  remark  with  what  economy  intel- 
lectual gifts  of  the  highest  order-  have  been  always  imparted  to 
our  race,  we  shall  not  be  disposed  to  consider  it  as  too  scanty. 
To  strike  out  new  and  entirely  original  ideas  on  abstract  sub- 
jects, implies  an  intense  exercise  of  thought,  which  may  almost 
be  supposed  to  preclude  the  cultivation  of  the  arts  and  graces 
that  belong  to  manner.  Nor  is  it,  in  fact,  in  the  communica- 
tbn  of  these  original  thoughts,  as  they  first  present  tliemselves, 
in  their  native  simplicity,  to  the  mind  of  the  discoverer,  that 
the  graces  of  manner  can  be  displayed  to  the  greatest  advan- 
tage. It  is  chiefly  in  the  illustration,  application,  and  develope- 
ment  of  the  great  discoveries  which  enlarge  the  sphere  of 
science,  that  we  recognise  the  peculiar  province  of  the  power- 
ful and  elegant  philosophical  writer.  Without  possessing  thq 
vigor  and  persevering  activity  of  mind  required  for  actual  in- 
vention, he  is  able,  by  his  somewhat  limited  power,  to  com- 
prehend the  results  of  a  higher  one,  and  spread  them  out  in 
pleasing  forms  before  the  eye  of  the  common  observer.  Aod 
it  often  happens  that  in  so  doing  he  appropriates  to  himself  a 
glory,  which  belongs  much  more  properly  to  tlie  inventor.  In 
fact,  the  praise  we  allow  to  Stewait  is  the  same  which  is  usu- 
ally given  to  the  greatest  philosophical  writers  of  ancient  and 
modem  times.  Aristotle,  Xenophon,  Plato,  and  Cicero  built 
up  their  elegant  productions  in  a  great  measure  out  of  the 
materials  supplied  by  the  original  mind  of  Socrates,  who  him- 
self wrote  nothing.  Aristotle,  the  most  powerful  and  original 
thinker  among  them,  is  also  the  one  who  excels  least  as  a 
writer.  He  is  dry,  hard,  and  often  obscure;  He  evidently 
neglected  aiid  despised  the  graces  of  style.  It  is  true  that 
Cicero,  with  the  generous  prodigality  of  praise,  which  he 
was  always  ready  to  extend  to  merit  in  others,  as- well  as 
in  himself,  describes  the  writings  of  the  Stagyrite  as  a  river  of 


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liBdO.]  Btewarf^  Moral  FhUosophy.  216 

fiomng  gold.  But  he  probably  interrded  to  aHctde  to  the  con- 
tinued ttchness  and  solidity  of  the  substance  rather  than  to 
any  supposed  brilliancy  or  beauty  of  fortn,  which  they  certainly 
do  not  possess.  In  Xenophon,  Plato,  and  himself,  the  power 
of  original  thought  is  evidently  secondary  to  that  of  language. 
By  comparing  tlie  works  of  the  two  former,  and  even  by  mere 
internal  evidence,  we  can  easily  perceive  where  Plato  follows 
in  the  track  of  his  mftste'r,  and  where  he  strikes  out  a  new  one 
for  himself.  In  the  former  case  he  is  natural,  simple,  power- 
iul,  and  true ;  in  the  latter,  very  often  feeble,  visionary,  and 
false  :  as,  for  in^ance,  in  the  Republic^  the  most  unnatural, 
incoherent,  and  even  inhuman  plan  of  a  political  society  that 
was  ever  devised,  and  one  which  offers  a  singular  contrast  in 
every  line  with  the  good  sense,  sagacity,  and  gentleness  of 
Socrates,  the  Franklin  of  the  atncient  world.  Cicero  never 
fails  in  this  way  because  he  makes  no  pretensions  to  the  inven- 
tion of  an  original  system.  He  brings  into  view,  in  his  charm- 
ing dialogues,  a  group  of  sages  and  statesmen,  appertaining  re- 
spectively to  the  different  prevailing  sects  of  philosophy,  and 
makes  them  detail  in  turn  their  peculiar  views,  always  in  his  own 
graceful  and  splendid  diction,  which  is  in  fact  the  river  of  flowing 
gold,  that  he  hag  so  incorrectly,  if  we  suppose  him  to  allude  to 
style,  described  that  of  Aristode  to  be  ; — exhibits  a  leaning  to 
one  side  or  the  other,  but  seldom  or  never  starts  any  new  theo- 
ries of  his  own.  Such,  in  substance,  although  his  works  want  the 
dramatic  form,  and  are  in  other  respects  less  highly  colored  and 
poeticalj  is  the  manner  of  Stewart.  He  also  generally  gives 
us,  upon  every  important  topic  which  he  treats,  an  exposition, 
in  his  lucid  and  brilliant  language,  of  the  opinions  of  the  prin- 
cipal writers ;  weighs  the  arguments  in  favor  of  their  respective 
theories;  inclines  perhaps  to  one  or  the  other,  but  generally 
leaves  it  to  the  reader  to  decide,  and  rarely,  if  ever,  adds 
an  entu-ely  original  suggestion.  In  giving  this  description 
of  the  character  of  his  genius,  it  is  by  no  means  our  in- 
tention to  depreciate  the  value,  of  his  works.  We  have,  on 
the  contrary,  expressly  classed  him  with  some  of  the  most  il- 
lustrious names  in  the  history  of  learning.  We  have  said  that 
he  breathes  the  same  inspiration  with  the  divine  Plato,  and  that 
his  academic  gown  was  of  like  texture  with  the  *  radiant  robes 
of  immortal  Tully.'  This  is  praise  enough  to  satisfy  any 
moderate  and  well-regulated  ambition.  Nor,  although  we 
think,  as  we  have  said,  that  in  him  and  them  the  powers  of 


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216  Siewart^s  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

imagiaation  and  expression  predominate  over  that  of  close  and 
vigorous  thought, — ^that  they  were,  in  a  word,  poets  rather  than 
philosophers, — do  we  intend  to  intimate  that  the  faculty  of 
thought  was  wholly  wanting,  or  present  in  their  minds  in  a  very 
low  degree.  To  comprehend,  enter  into,  appropriate  and  re- 
fine upon  the  inventions  of  creative  genius,  unplies  an  intellec- 
tual power  second  only  to  that  of  creative  genius  itself ;  and 
when  this  is  combined  with  a  faculty  of  happy  and  luminous 
expression,  it  forms  the  combination  of  talents  which  is  best 
fitted  to  produce  effect  upon  the  public  mind,  and  procure  for 
its  possessor  every  sort  of  compensation  and  distinction,  ex- 
cepting perhaps  the  barren  laurel  of  remote  and  posthumous 
glory, 

*  that  fancied"  life  in  others'  breath, 

The  estate  that  wits  inherit  oiler  death.' 

The  distinguishing  characteristics  of  the  talent  and  manner 
of  Stewart  being  thus,  as  we  have  described  them,  of  a  nature 
to  give  his  works  a  great  popularity,  and  to  enable  him  to  exer- 
cise an  extensive  influence  upon  public  opinion,  it  is  not  less 
fortunate  for  the  world,  than  creditable  to  himself,  that  they 
are  inspired  throughout  by  the  purest  and  most  amiable  moral 
feelings.  We  are  acquainted  with  no  philosophical  writings  in 
any  language  which  leave  upon  the  mind  a  happier  impres- 
sion. The  principles  which  he  sets  forth  upon  the  most  im- 
portant points  in  the  theory  of  ethics  are,  in  our  opinion,  far 
from  being  in  all  cases  true, 'as  we  shall  presently  have  occa- 
sion to  show ;  but  the  tone  of  sentiment  is  uniformly  pure ;  &nd 
as  it  is  this  which  determines  the  general  effect  of  the  whole 
upon  the  opinions  and  feelings  of  the  mass  of  readers,  it  fol- 
lows of  course  that  this  effect  is  uniformly  good.  This  amia- 
ble writer  has  in  fact  breathed  into  all  his  works  the  kind, 
gentle,  social,  and  benevolent  spirit  by  which  he  was  himself 
animated.  He  not  only  teaches  us  to  believe  in  virtue,  but 
brings  the  celestial  vision  before  us  in  full  loveliness  and 
beauty,  so  as  to  engage  our  affections  in  her  favor.  He  adopts 
and  defends  all  the  liberal  and  philanthropic  notions  that  have 
ever  been  advanced  by  the  lovers  of  mankind,  while  he  avoids 
at  the  same  time  the  excesses  by  which  injjudicious  partisans 
have  so  often  brought,  and  are  still  bringing,  the  best  of  causes 
into  contempt  and  ridicule.  He  is  pious  without  fanaticism, — 
cheerfiil  and  benevolent  without  an  approach  to  licentiousness, 
He  is  devotedly  attached  to  liberty  without  deeming  it  neces- 


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1830.]  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  217 

saiy  to  renounce  his  respect  for  social  order  and  good  govern- 
ment. He  believes  in  the  practicability  of  improvement  without 
indulging  in  the  idle  dream  of  an  earthly  millennium.  It  had 
happened  by  a  sort  of  fatality  that  almost  all  the  works  on 
moral  philosophy,  at  least  in  modern  times,  which  were  written 
in  an  agreeable  and  attractive  style,  had  inculcated  principles 
not  only  false  in  themselves,  but  completely  subversive  of  the 
good  .  order  of  .society.  Helvetius,  and  the  other  French  so- 
phists of  the  eighteenUi  century,  had  presented  their  detestable 
doctrines  in  the  dress  of  the  sweetest  and  most  seductive  lan- 
guage, and  had  introduced-  it  by  this  means  into  the  brilliant 
saloons  of  fashion  and  even  the  boudoirs  of  the  ladies.  Hume,  , 
in  like  manner,  had  disguised  his  still  inore  fatal,  because  more 
subtle  poison,  under  one  of  the  most  chaste,  correct,  and  ele- 
gant forms,  that  the  English  language  has  ever  assumed.  Even 
Darwin,  and  the  other  writers  of  the  British  materialist  school 
of  vibrations  and  vibratiuncles,  the  most  pitiful  and  contempti- 
ble, perhaps,  that  has  yet  appeared  in  the  philosophical  world, 
tricked  themselves  out  in  a  gaudy  and  fantastic  sort  of  mas- 
querade habit,  which  was  singularly  enough  mistaken  at  the 
time  for  something  highly  graceful  and  attractive.  Paley,  a 
dignitary  of  the  church,  had  lent  the  charm  of  a  lueid  and 
pleasing  exposition,  as  well  as  the  authority  of  his  calling  and 
the  cloak  of  religion,  to  a  system  of  absolute  selfishness.  In 
the  meantime,  the  better  opinions,  if  advanced  at  all,  had  been 
maintained,  in' a  dry  and  heartiest  manner,  in  treatises  for  the 
most  part  devoid  alike  of  depth  and  elegance.  Under  these 
circumstances  we  regard  it  as  a  singularly  fortunate  thing  that 
a  writer  should  have  appeared,  who,  adopting  a  system  of  in- 
tellectual and  moral  philosophy  in  the  main  judicious,  free 
from  danger  even  in  its  errors,  and  inspired  by  a  uniformly 
pure,  amiable,  and  elevated  moral  feeling,  should '  have  been 
able  at  the  same  time  to  interest  the  world  and  give  his  notions 
a  general  popularity  by  the  beauty  of  his  language.  The 
works  of  such  a  writer  were  absolutely  necessary  to  prepare 
the  way  for  that  complete  reformation  of  the  theory  of  moral 
science  which  is  so  much  needed.  They  want,  it  is  true,  the 
strong  originality  of  tliought,  the  rigorous  correctness  of  reason- 
ing, thfe  nervous  precision  of  language,  which  would  be  required 
for  effecting  this  great  object,  but  they  possess  the  qualities 
that  were  proper  for  bringing  about  a  favorable  change  in  the 
state  of  public  sentiment  on  these  momentous  subjects.  They 
VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  68.  28 


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218  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

are  like  the  voice  of  one  crymg  in  the  wilderness.  They  pre- 
pare the  way  for  the  coming  of  a  still  greater  teacher,  and  col- 
lect an  audience  previously  well  disposed  to  Usten  to  and  profit 
by  his  mstructions.  At  the  same  time,  by  creating  a  general 
interest  in  favor  of  the  science  and  thus  leading  many  persons 
to  study  it  with  correct  prepossessions,  they  tend  to  produce 
the  reformer  whose  success  they  prepare  and  facilitate.  Such 
are  the  great  services  which  the  writings  of  Stewart  have  ren- 
dered and  are  rendering  to  the  cause  of  truth  and  virtue.  They 
are  sufficient  to  entitle  him  forever  to  the  respect  and  gratitude 
of  all  good  men.  • 

We  shall  probably  be  favored  at  no  distant  period  with  a 
collection  of  the  works  of  Stewart  accompanied  by  a  full  biog- 
raphy, which  will  afford  us  a  more  suitable  occasion  for  entering 
into  a  general  examination  of  his  literary  and  philosophical 
character.  We  shall  confine  ourselves  chiefly  at  present  to  an 
analysis  of  the  work  immediately  before  us ;  but  it  may  not  be 
an  improper  introduction  to  the  remarks  w6  shall  offer  on  that 
subject  to  notice  very  briefly  the  author's  preceding  publica- 
tions. 

Mr.  Stewart's  original  intention,  in  coming  before.the  world  as 
a  writer,  appears  to  have  been  to  publish  successively  complete 
treatises  on  Metaphysics,  or,  as  he  preferred  to  say,  the  Philoso- 
phy of  the  Mmd,  on  Ethics  and  on  Politics,  founded  probably  on 
the  courses  of  lectures,  which,  in  his  capacity  of  professor,  he 
delivered  to  liis  pupils  upo%  these  subjects.  This  intention  is 
announced  in  the  preface  to  tlie  first  volume  of  the  Elements 
of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Mmd  ;  but  seems  to  have  been  com- 
pletely executed  only  in  reference  to  that  particular  branch. 
The  notes,  which  formed  the  text-book  of  the  ethical  course, 
were  published  as  early  as  the  year  1793,  under  the  title  of 
Outlines  of  Moral  Philosophy j  but  without  much  develope- 
ment ;  and  the  work  now  before  us,  which  is  another  edition 
of  the  same  matter  in  a  more  enlarged  form,  appears  neveithe- 
less  to  be  the  result  of  a  less  thorough  and  careful  revision  than 
that  which  had  been  given  to  the  metaphysical  course  for  the 
purpose  of  forming  the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind.  The  lectures 
on  Government  have  not  appeared  in  any  form,  and  if  they 
come  out  at  all,  it  can  only  be  under  the  great  disadvantages 
attending  a  posthumous  publication.  We  regret  this  circum- 
stance .the  more,  because  we  think  that  since  tiie  appearance  of 
the  great  work  of  Locke,  standard  treatises  on  ethics  and  on 


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1830.]  Stewarfs  Moral  Philosophy.  219 

politics  are  much  more  wanted  in  our  language  than  one  on 
metaphyfsics.  A  volume  of  Philosophical  Essays^  and  the 
Dissertations  on  the  History  of  Moral  Philosophy,  prefixed  to 
the  volumes  of  the  Edinburgh  Encyclopaedia,  complete  tl^e 
list  of  our  autlior's  publications.  He  is,  therefore,  one  of  the 
least  voluminous,  although  he  may  perhaps  be  fairly  regarded 
as,  on  the  whole,  the  most  eminent  and  valuable  writer  of  his 
time.  His  example  seems  to  corroborate  tlie  wholesome  truth, 
already  demonstrated  by  a  hundred  others,  that  a  writer  gains 
much  more,  even  on  the  score  of  mere  reputation,  by  maturing 
his  works,  tiian  by  hurrying  constantly  to  press,  in  the  vain  ex- 
pectation of  securing  the  public  attention  by  keeping  his  name 
forever  in  the  newspapers. 

The  work  on  the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind  is  undoubtedly 
the  most  elaborate  and  finished  of  our  author's  productions — 
the  one  by  which  he  has  been  hitherto  best  known,  and 
which  will  probably  contribute,  more  than  any  of,  or  all  the 
rest,  to  his  future  reputation.  It  is  much  the  most  popular  and 
elegant  treatise  on  the  subject  in  the  English  language,  and 
has  conveyed  instruction  and  rational  entertainment  to  whole 
classes  of  readers,  who  would  never  have  thought  of  advancing 
beyond  the  first  pages  of  Locke.  When  examined  simply  with 
reference  to  principles,  and  as  an  exposition  of  the  theory  of 
the  science,  it  is-  doubtless  far  from  being  thorough  or  com^ 
pletely  satisfactory.  The  Edinburgh  school  of  Intellectual 
and  Moral  Philosophy,  of  which  Reid  was  the  founder,  and 
Stewart  one  of  the  principal  ornaments,  arose,  as  is  well 
known,  about  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  in  consequence 
of  the  reaction  of  public  opinion  against  the  sceptical  systems, 
which  had  previously  obtained  a  temporary  vogue.  .  In  a  late 
article  on  Ifitellectual  Philosophy  we  briefly  stated  the  leading 
principles  of  this  school,  as  well  as  those  of  the  Transcendental, 
or  Critical  Philosophy,  which  grew  up  in  Germany,  under  the 
operation  of  the  same  causes,  at  about  the  same  time.  The 
great  object  of  the  founders  and  partisans  of  both  was  to  refute 
the  arguments  by  which  the  sceptics,  reasoning  on  the  princi- 
ples of  Locke,  attacked  the  commonly  received  opinions  in 
religion  and  morals ;  and  the  method  of  defence,  which  they 
adopted,  was  the  one  that  is  called,  in  the  common-law  forms 
of  pleading,  a  confession  and  justification.  They  admitted  the 
correctness  of  the  reasoning  of  the  sceptics,  but  undertook  to 
show,  on  other  grounds,  that  the  conclusions  they  drew  from  it 


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220  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  [Julyj 

could  not  be  true.  They  gave  up  Locke  to  his  adversaries,  in 
the  persuasion  that  they  had  found  belter  arguments  than  his, 
in  favor  of  the  principles  which  he  and  they  alike  desired  to 
support.  The  Scotch,  by  an  appeal  to  common  sense,  and 
the  Germans,  by  what  they  considered  a  more  profound  analy- 
sis of  the  intellect,  conceived  that  they  had  given  to  the  great 
and  salutary  truths  of  religion  a  much  higher  degree  of  cer- 
tainty than  they  could  derive  from  the  doctrines  of  the,  Essay 
on  the  Human  Understanding.  We  have  abready  stated  in  a 
concise  way  on  the  occasion  just  alluded  to,  our  opinion  of  the 
value  of  these  discoveries  in  metaphysics,  and  it  is  hot  our  pre- 
sent purpose  to  enter  more  fully  into  the  discussion.  We  are 
for  ourselves,  as  we  tlien  remarked,  fully  satisfied  with  those 
parts  of  the  theory  of  Locke,  which  the  Scotch  and  Germans 
thought  it  necv3ssary  to  abandon  ;  and  wc  do  not  conceive  that 
they  lead  to  the  irreligious  and  immoral  conclusions  which  the 
sceptics  drew  from  them.  We  are  also  of  opinion  that  the 
ground  taken  by  the  partisans  of  the  riew  schools  was  not  in 
either  case  tenable;  and  confining  ourselves  for  the  present 
entirely  to  the  Scotch,  that  an  appeal  to  common  sense  in  proof 
of  any  abstract  principle,  instead  of  serving  as  a  foundation  for 
a  new  philosophical  system,  is  a  tacit  admission  that  philosophy 
is  at  fault.  It  is  only  saying  in  a  rather  more  formal  way,  that 
although  beaten  in  the  argument,  we  are  convinced  against  our 
wiU,  and  remain  of  the  same  opinion. 

Considered  as  aii  attempt  to  reconstruct  the  whofe  edifice 
on  a  new  and  more  solid  basis  than  that  of  Locke,  the  Scotch 
Philosophy,  including  that  of  Stewart,  must  imdoubtedly  be 
regarded  as  a  failure.  The  value  of  the  writings  of  our  author 
is  not,  however,  so  much  affected  by  the  essential  vice  in  the 
reasoning  of  his  master,  as  might  have  been  expected.  A 
very  small  portion  of  his  works  is  devoted  to  the  examination 
of  leadir^g  prmciples,  his  main  object  being  to  explain  and  illus- 
trate the  operations  "of  the  several  intellectual  powers.  The 
reality  of  these  is  admitted  by  all,  however  different  may  be 
their  theories  respecting  the  nature  of  the  mind,  and  the  origin 
of  knowledge ;  nor.  is  Uiere  much  dispute  about  the  modes  of 
their  operation,  as  far  as  this  can  be  ascertained  at  all  and  lies 
widiin  the  scope  of  human  knowledge.  -In  treating  tliis  sub- 
ject, it  was  therefore  only  necessary  to  state  facts  that  were 
generally  known,  or  open  to  an  easy  and  familiar  observation,  in 
a  perspicuous  and  agreeable  way  ;  and  a  task  of  this  kind  was 


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1S30.]  Stewards  Moral  Phiiosaphy*  221 

very  well  suited  to  the  character  of  Stewart,  who  possessed  in 
a  high  degree  tlie  talent  of  easy  exposition  and  happy  illustra- 
tion. This  work  presents  accordingly  a  distinctly-drawn  and 
highly-colored  picture  of  the  region  of  intellect,  adorned  and 
diversified  thi*oughout  with  embellishments  borrowed  from 
the  kindred  domains  of  taste  and  moral  philosophy.  It  is  in 
fact  the  great  charm  of  these  productions,  that  they  are  not  a 
mere  dry  developement  of  abstract  principles,  but  free,  flowing, 
learned,  and  elegant  discourses  on  the  facts  and  feelings,  that 
make  up  the  curious  tissue  of  many-colored  life. 

Of  the  two  volumes,  the  former  is,  we  think,  by  far  the  most 
mteresting,  and  we  consider  it  in  fact  as  the  only  one  of  his 
works,  with  the  exception  of  the  Philosophical  Essays,  which, 
exhibits  the  author's  talent  in  all  its  freshness  and  activity. 
Twenty  years  elapsed  between  the  publication  of  the  two  vol- 
umes of  the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind,  and  it  is  not  unnatural  to 
suppose  that  during  tliis  long  period,  and  at  tlie  advanced  age 
which  he  had  attained  before  he  began  to  publish,  his  faculties 
should  have  lost  something  of  their  elasticity.  The  trains  of 
thought  that  occupy  the  first  volunje,  are  also  those  on  which  he 
most  delighted  td  dwell,  and  which  he  was  best  fitted  to  follow 
out,  and  illustrate.  After  hurrying  somewhat  rapidly  over  tlie 
chapter  on  Perception,  and  the  dark  and  deep  problem  of  ih^ 
origin  of  knowledge,  which  he  hardly  professes  to  have  probed 
to  the  bottom,  and  in  regard  to  which  the  philosophy  of  his 
school,  as  we .  have  just  had  occasion  to  remark,  is  essentially 
defective  and  erroneous,  he  soon  arrives  in  the  flowery  regions 
of  Imagination  and  Memory,  where  he  finds  himself  entirely  at 
home,  and  evidently  wantons  in  the  full  consciousness  of  the 
power  of  communicating  pleasure  as  well  as  instruction.  Illus- 
trations poetical,  historical,  and  philosopnical,  crowd  from  under 
his  pen,  and  spread  tliemselves  out  over  his  pages,  with  a  full- 
ness angi  brilliancy,  that  form  a  singular  contrast  to  the  simple 
conciseness  of  the  earlier  chapters.  The  second  volume, 
which  is  wholly  occupied  by  an  examination  of  the  faculty  of 
Judgment  or  Reason^  brings  him  back  again  to  the  colder  re- 
gions of  abstract  elementary  principles ;  and  here,  as  if  on 
purpose  to  heighten  the  natural  dryness  of  his  subject,  he  has 
drawn  his  illustrations  principally  from  the  still  more  abstract 
science  of  pure  mathematics,  with  which  he  seems  to  be  rather 
fond  of  showing  his  acquaintance.  It  was  his  original  inten- 
tion, Bs  expressed  in  the  preface  to  the  first  volume,  to  cora- 


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223  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

press  the  remarks  on  the  faculty  of  Judgment  into  a  few  chap- 
ters ;  and  we  rather  regret  that  he  did  not  complete  the  work 
on  this  plan.  In  treating  this  branch  of  the  subject,  the  essen- 
tial defects  of  the  Scotch  philosophy  are  Necessarily  brought 
into  view,  and  the  more  it  is  dwelt  upon,  the  more  obvious  and 
visible  do  they  become.  The  author  no  longer  exhibits  his 
former  facility  and  freedom,  and  seems' to  labor  under  a  feel- 
ing that  there  is  some -defect  in  his  theory,  without  knowing 
exactly  what  it  is,  or  where  to  find  a  remedy  for  it.  He  moves 
on  from  chapter  to  chapter,  and  from  topic  to  topic,  with  a 
slow  and  embarrassed  march,  without  appearing  to  have  at  any 
time  a  perfectly  distinct  notion  of  the  principles  he  wishes  to 
establish,  and  of  course  without  imparting  to  the  mind  of  the 
reader  the  conviction  which  he  does  not  himself  feel.  We 
miss  at  once  the  easy  lightness  of  style,  which  belonged  to  the 
other  volume,  and  the  masculine  firmness  and  vigor  of  thought, 
which  should  have  been  the  characteristics  of  this.  In  the 
hope  of  giving  to  his  theories  the  precision  which  he  seems  to 
feel  that  they  want,  he  is  fond — as  we  remarked  above — of 
recurring  to  illustrations  drawn  fi-om  pure  mathematics.  He 
probably  entertained  an  indistinct  notion,  which  has  served  as 
the  basis  to,  many  extensive  treatises  on  moral  philosophy, 
that  by  applying  to  moral  truths  the  language  and  form  of  math- 
ematical demonstrations,  he  could  give  them  the  same  sort  of 
certainty  which  belongs  to  that  science.  This  was  the  theory 
of  Wolff,  Doddridge,  and  various  other  well-meaning  writers. 
Hutcheson  has  undertaken  to  express  under  the  form  of  alge- 
braic equations,  the  various  degrees  of  moral  value,  that  belong 
to  different  actions  according  to  the  various  motives  and  cir- 
cumstances under  which  they  are  performed.  The  principle 
is  obviously  completely  visionary  in  the  abstract,  and  when 
applied  to  practice  leads  to  mcongruities  that  border  on  the 
ludicrous.  Stewart  has  by  no  means  adopted  it  to  any  tiling  like 
the  same  extent  as  the  writers  to  whom  we  have  just  alluded  ; 
and  has  even  noticed  with  just  disapprbbation  this  feature  in 
their  works.  When  he  appeals  to  mathematics,  k  is  merely 
for  the  purpose  of  illustration,  but  still,  as  it  seems,  with  a  per- 
suasion that  he  was  giving  his  principles  a  sort  of  mathemati- 
cal certainty.  The  error  is  the  same  with  that  of  Wolff  and 
Hutcheson  in  a  milder  form.  Considered  as  mere  illustra- 
tions, mathematical  forms  and  methods  are  plainly  the  last  that 
should  be  employed  to  felieve  the  dryness  of  purely  abstract 


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1830.]  Stewart's  Moral  Philosophy.  223 

moral  reasoning,  smce  they  can  only  increase  the  very  evil  they 
were  intended  to  remedy.  On  the  whole,  although  particular 
passages  of  the  second  volume  may  be  read  with  great  pleasure 
and  instruction,  the  general  impression  which  it  leaves  upon  tlie 
mind  is  confused  and  mcomplete.  The  author  repeatedly  refers 
us  to  his  own  future  publications  for  further  explanations  on 
some  of  the  most  interesting  topics  that  come  up  in  the  course 
of  the  inquiry  ;  and  when  we  lay  aside  the  volume,  we  do  it 
with  a  feeling  that  we  have  received  a  good  many  valuable 
hints,  but  that  we  must  inquire  more  of  the  author  himself, 
and  of  others,  before  •we  can  have  a  setded  opinion  upon  the 
subject  he  has  undertaken  to  treat.  In  the  preface  to  the 
second  volume,  he  speaks  of  a  third,  which  he  intended  to 
publish,  and  of  wh.ich  the  materials  were  then  in  a  great  meas- 
ure prepared.  The  principal  subjects  allotted  to  it  are,  as  he 
himself  states — Language — Imitation — ^the  Varieties  of  Intel- 
lectual Character y  and  the  Faculties  by  which  Men  are  distin- 
guished from  the  Lower  Animals.  This  volume  was  to  have 
completed  the  work.  Of  these  materials  none,  as  far  as  we 
aie  informed,  have  yet  been  published ;  but  we  venture  to 
hope,  that  they  will  not  be  lost  to  the  world.  The  subjects 
are  of  the  class  which  Stewart  was  able  to  treat  with  tlie  great- 
est advantage  and  success,  and  he  would  have  had  opportu- 
nity in  discussing  them  to  exhibit  the  same  fertility  of  fancy 
and  elegance  of  language,  that  distinguish  his  first  productions. 
We  ti'ust  that  the  essays  in  question,  if  at  all  in  a  finished  state 
— as  they  apparently  must  be — will  be  published  by  the  friends 
of  die  author  in  the  collection  of  his  posthumous  writings.  . 

The  Philosophical  Essctys  and  the  Dissertations  on  the  JKs- 
tory  of  Philosophy^  are  among  the  most  agreeable  and  valua- 
ble of  our  author's  writings.  It  would  carry  us  too  far  from 
our  immediate  object  to  pretend  to  comment  upon  the  various 
subjects,  which  are  rapidly  touched  upon  in  these  works.  It 
is  much  to  be  regretted  that  Stewart  did  not  live  to  complete 
the  plan  of  die  Dissertations.  Without,  perhaps,  fully  realising 
the  idea  of  a  perfect  History  of  Philosophy,  they  might,  in 
that  case,  have  jusdy  been  considered  as  the  most  remarkable 
essay  towards  a  work  of  this  kind,  to  be  found  in  any  lan- 
guage. The  learning,  displayed  by  our  author  in  these  Dis- 
sertations and  in  his  other  writings,  is  extensive,  and  as  far  as 
it  goes,  uniformly  thorough  and  exact.  He  Is  familiar  in  par- 
ticular with  classical  and  French  literature.     He  attaches,  we 


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224  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  [July> 

think,  rather  too  much  importance  *  to  some  continental  wri- 
ters of  an  inferior  order,  such  as  Buffier  and  Boscovich,  who, 
judging  from  the  effect  of  their  works,  can  have  had  little  or 
no  real  power,  since  they  have  made  little  or  no  impression  on 
the  feelings  or  opinions  of  the  worM.  They  were  monks,  who 
wrote  in  monkish  Latin  to  beguile  the  tediuni  of  the  cloisters, 
and  their  fame  has  not  yet  extended,  and  probably  never  will 
extend  much  farther.  The  most  remarkable  deficiency  in  the 
erudition  of  Stewart  is  the  want  of  an  acquaintance  with  the 
language  and  philosophy  of  Germany.  Germany  is  the  coun- 
try in  which  metaphysical  and  moral  philosophy  have  been 
cultivated  within  the  last  half  century  with  the  greatest  assi- 
duity. The  whole  mass  of  ancient  and  modern  learning  con- 
nected with  these  subjects  has  there  been  explored,  drawn 
out  from  its  hiding-places  in  dusty  libraries,  and  worm-eaten 
manuscripts,  brought  into  view,  examined,  criticised,  appre- 
ciated and  employed.  New  -systems  and  thepries  have  been 
struck  out,  received  with  enthusiasm,  controverted,  established 
or  abandoned,  as  the  current  of  opinion  happened  to  set.  In 
short,  there  has  been  among  the  Germans  a  remarkably  active 
movement  in  the  cultivation  of  this  branch  of  science  :  and  if 
the  success  of  their  labors  have  not  luUy  corresponded  in  the 
last  result  to  the  extent  and  vigor  of  their  exertions,  it  is  still 
highly  important — ^we  may  say,  absolutely  necessary — for  stu- 
dents in  the  same  science  in  other  parts  of  the  world,  and 
especially  for  the  historian  of  philosophy,  to  knotv  exactly 
the  amount  and  value  of  what  they  have  done.  •  Mr.  Stewart, 
from  his  want  of  acquaintance  with  the  German  language,  in 
which  almost  all  the  works  that  have  appeared  within  the 
period  alluded  to,  are  written,  had  no  means  of  gaining  in- 
formation on  the  subject  excepting  from  obscin*e  and  imper- 
fect Latin  translations  of  a  few  leading  writers,  and  some  other 
sources  of  a  purely  secondary  and  subsidiary  class.  He  looks 
for  example  to  Madame  de  Stael's  AUemagne  as  an  authority. 
The  want  of  familiarity  with  the  German  philosophy  was  in 
his  case  the  more  to  be  regretted,  inasmuch  as  that  doctrine 
is  founded  substantially  on  the  same  principles  with  the  one 
professed  by  himself,  and  may  be  viewed  as  another  exposi- 
tion of  the  same  common  creed.  In  Germany,  however,  the 
common  creed  has  been  expounded,  illustrated,  and  pursued 
into  its  consequences,  real  or  supposed,  to  a  much  greater 
extent  than  in  Scotland,  so  that  a  disciple  of  Reid,  when  he 


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1830.]  Stewards  Moral  Phiiosophy.  225 

studies  the  phUosophy  of  Germany,  is  examming  his  own  prin- 
ciples, as  it  were  dirough  a  magnifying  glass,  and,  of  course, 
with  great  advantages  for  rectifying  his  views  upon  every  point 
connected  with  the  subject.  It  is  easy  to  perceive  in  the 
works  of  some  of  the  contemporary  French  philosophers — 
particularly  Cousin — ^the  great  advantages  resulting  from  a 
diligent  cultivation  of  German  literature.  But  w^ile  we  indi- 
cate this  deficiency  in  tie  learning  of  Stewart,  it  is  not  our 
intention  to  impute  much  blame  to  him  for  it.  He  was  already 
advanced  in  hfe,  and  ipvolved  in  urgent  engagements,  when 
the  philosophy  of  the  Germans  first  began  to  attract  notice  in 
other  parts  of  Europe.  It  was,  probably,  impossible  for  him, 
under  these  circumstances,  to  dispose  of  the  time  and  labor 
that  would  have  been  required  for  a  thorough  investigation  of 
the  subject,  and  he  was  obliged  to  content  himself  with  such 
imperfect  notions  of  it  as  he  could  obtain  in  a  different  way. 
The  result  has  been  a  distaste  for,  and  perhaps  a  partially' 
unjust  appreciation  of.  the  Germans,  together  with  a  less 
thorough  understanding  of  the  leal  character  of  the  principles 
of  his  own  school,  than  he  would  probably  have  had  if  he  had 
probed  theirs  to  the  bottom. 

It  is  time,  however,  to  come  to  the  work  more  immediately 
before  us.  This  is  entitled  The  Philosophy  of  the  Active  and 
Moral  Powers' of  Man^  and  is,  of  course,  nothing  less  in  pur- 
pose and  design  than  a  complete  treatise  on  the  great  sub- 
ject of  Ethical  Science.  A  standard  work  of  this  description 
is  undoubtedly  one  of  the  principal  desiderata  in  the  literature 
of  our  language  and  of  modern  Europe.  The  work  of  Paley, 
which,  for  want  of  a  better,  has  obtained  a  pretty  extensive 
circulation  both  in  England  and  in  this  country,  though  res- 
pectable in  form  and  manner,  is  an  exposition  of  an  essen- 
tially false  and  immoral  system,  and  of  course  leaves  the  field 
entirely  open  for  anotiier  written  on  correct  principles.  Few 
persons  could  be  found  better  fitted  than  Stewart  by  the 
popularity  of  his  style,  and  the  warmth  and  benevolence  of  his 
feelings,  to  produce  a  work  that  should  arrest  the  public  atten- 
tion ;  and  supposmg  it  to  possess  the  substantial  qualities  ne- 
cessary for  that  purpose,  should  be  received  as  the  text-book 
of  the  science.  We  regret  to  §ay,  that  the  one  before  us, 
though  valuable  and  instructive  when  considered  as  an  essay, 
does  not  appear  to  us  to  be  of  a  nature  to  supply  the  defi- 
ciency to  which  we  have  alluded.     It  contains  no  new  princi- 

voL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  29 


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226  Stewards  Moral  PhUosopky.  .  [July, 

pies,  Dor  is  it  sufficiently  elaborate  and  complete  to  be^  viewed 
as  a  better  statement  of  any  theory  that  had  been  previously 
advanced  by  any  other  writer.  The  author  hardly  seems  in 
fact  to  possess  any  settled  ideas  on  the  most  important  points  in 
the  science.  In  treating  them,  he  appears  to  waver  between 
different  opinions,  cites  a  variety  of  names  and  books,  intro- 
duces many  qualifications  and  conditions,  and,  finally,  leaves 
it  in  a  great  measure  uncertain  what  his  own  views  are.  The 
tone  of  feeling  is  so  correct  and  amiable,  and  the  style  in  gen- 
eral so  attractive,  that  tlie  work  will  be  perused  with  great  de- 
light and  profit  by  the  general  reader ;  but  it  will  have,  we 
tliink,  little  or  no  effect  in  fixing  principles,  or  reforming  the 
state  of  the  science. 

In  the  opening  chapter  of  the  work,  the  author  states  the 
distinction  between  the  powers  that  belong  to  man  on  the  one 
hand  as  an  inteUectual  being,  and  on  the  other  as  an  active 
and  moral  one ;  and  then  classes  the  latter,  which  form  his 
immediate  subject,  under  the  two  head3  of  IrutirtcHve  or  Anir 
mal  and  Rational  or  Govemingipnncifles  of  action.  To  the 
former  belong  our  Appetites^  JDesireSj  and  Affections  ;  to  the 
latter,  Self4ove,  and  ^Ae  Moral  Faculty.  The  two  first  books 
are  devoted  respectively  to  the  consideration  of  these  two 
classes  of  powers  or  principles,  under  their  respective  sub-di- 
visions. The  Animal  or  Instinctive  principles  are  treated  some- 
what less  fully  than  the  Rational — ^it  being,  as  the  author  him- 
self remarks,  the  principal  object  of  the  volume  to  illustrate 
the  nature  of  the  Moral  Faculty.  In  the  third  book,  he  takes 
up  his  general  subject  under  a  new  point  of  view,  and  proposes 
to  consider  our  practical  duties  under  the  common  division  of 
those  which  have  for  their  object  respectively  the  Deity,  our 
fellow-men  and  ourselves.  In  treating  the  first  of  these  classes 
of  duties,  he  enters  on  a  demonstration  of  the  existence  of 
God,  which  is  by  far  the  most  elaborate  portion  of  the  work, 
and  is  indeed  the  only  one  which  is  finished  with  much  fulness 
and  care.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  however,  that  this  discus- 
sion is  wholly  foreign  to  the  subject  on  the  system  of  Stew- 
art, who  attempts  to  establish  the  theory  of  morals — ^as  we 
shall  presendy  show— on  grounds  entirely  independent  of  reli- 
gion. This  inquiry  occupies  the  whole  of  the  third  book. 
In  the  fourth,  the  author  treats  of  the  duties  we  owe  to  our 
fellow-creatures  and  ourselves,  and  finally,  in  the  fifth  and  last 
he  enters,  somewhat  late  in  the  day,  as  it  seems  to  us,  on  the 


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1830.]  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  227 

question  of  the  nature  of  Virtus,  which  he  discusses  in  a  few 
short  chapters,  or  rather  sentences,  forming,  in  our  opinion,  by- 
far  the  most  unsatisfactory  part  of  the  work.  The  appendix 
contains,  with  one  or  two  other  less  important  tracts,  a  copious 
and  elaborate,  though  not  very  powerful  essay  on  the  contro- 
verted question  of  the  Free  Agency  of  Man.  Such  is  the 
general  outline  of  the  contents  of  the  two  volumes. 

The  phraseology  employed  by  our  author  in  the  classifica- 
tion and  arrangement  of  his  materials,  which  is  borrowed 
with  variations  from  that  of  Reid,  is  not  particularly  happy. 
By  the  Active  Powers  of  Man,  he  means  the  principles  or  ele- 
ments of  our  nature,  which  determine  our  actions  ;  but  there 
seems  to  be  a  pretty  obvious  departure  from  the  natural  and 
ordinary  use  of  words,  when  we  call  Hunger,  for  example, 
or  Friendship,  an  Active  Power.  Active  Principles,  which  the 
author  occasionally  employs  as  a  synonymous  expression,  is  a 
more  correct  one ;  but  even  in  this  there  is  a  departure 
from  the  usual  application  of  the  epithet  active.  The  arrange- 
ment of  these  principles  into  the  five  classes  mentioned  above, 
is  admitted  by  our  author  himself  to  be  of  no  great  importance. 
*  If  I  had  been  disposed,'  says  he,  in  a  note  upon  the  first 
chapter,  '  to  examine  this  part  of  our  constitution  with  all  the 
minute  accuracy  of  which  it  is  susceptible,  I  should  have  pre- 
ferred an  arrangement  diiferent  both  from  that  which  I  have 
adopted,  and  from  that  proposed  by  Dr.  Reid.'  He  then  pro- 
ceeds to  give  the  heads  of  this  other  arrangement,  by  which 
the  active  principles  of  our  naiture  are  divided  into  the  two 
classes  of  Original  and  Acquired,  and  the  former  of  these  again 
into  the  sub-divisions  of  Animal  ^md  Rational.  Whether  the 
phrase  Acquired  Principles  be  not  inconsistent  in  its  terms,  and 
the  thing  intended  by  it  impossible  in  nature,  is  a  question, 
which  we  need  not  stop  to  discuss.  The  author  concludes  the 
note  by  remarking,  that  for  any  of  the  purposes,  which  he  has 
in  view,  it  is  useless  to  attempt  so  comprehensive  and  detailed 
an  examination  of  the  subject  as  the  one  to  which  he  has  al- 
luded, and  that  he  shall  confine  himself  to  the  general  enume- 
ration given  in  the  work.  It  is  plain,  therefore,  that  he  does 
not  regard  the  latter  as  a  perfect  one.  The  most  simple  and 
obvious  arrangement  of  the  prmciples  of  our  nature,  considered 
as  furnishing  motives  of  conduct, — ^the  point  of  view  under 
which  they  are  regarded  in  morals, — ^is  into  the  two  classes 
of  Selfish  and  Social  Principles,  to  which  must  be  added. 


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228  Stewart^s  Moral  PkUosopky.  [Jtdy, 

for  those  who  believe  in  the  reality  of  a  distinct  and  separate 
power  or  sense,  by  which  we  recognise  the  moral  qualities  of 
actions,  the  Moral  Faculty. 

The  Appetites,  Desires,  and  Affections,  which  form  the  sub- 
ject of  the  first  book,  are  treated  respectively  under  several 
sub-divisions,  which  are  not,  we  think,  made  in  every  instance 
with  remarkable  correctness.  Thus  we  find  classed  under  the 
second  head,  as  separate  desires,  the  Desire  of  Power,  and 
the  Desire  of  Superiority  ;  which,  if  not  identical,  border  too 
nearly  on  each  other  to  be  regarded  as  distinct  principles  in 
our  original  constitution.  It  would  be  superfluous,  however, 
to  examine  very  minutely  a  classification,  which  the  author 
himself  admits  to  be  loose  and  unsatisfactory  to  his  own  mind. 
The  chapters  on  the  afiections  are  beautifully  written,  and  are 
filled  with  generous  and  amiable  sentiments.  On  Love,  the 
most  prominent  and  remarkable  of  the  number,  there  is,  how- 
ever, no  distinct  essay.  Our  fair  readers  will  be  struck 
with  consternation  at  such  an  omission,  and  will  naturally  in- 
quire, with  the  Last  Mbstrel  in  the  Lay  of  our  author's  iUus- 
trious  countryman. 

How  could  he  to  the  dearest  theme, 
That  ever  wanned  a  minstrel's  dream. 
So  foul,  so  false,  so  recreant  prove  ? 

Mr.  Stewart  would  perhaps  have  replied,  that  the  theme  was 
better  suited  to  minstrels  than  philosophers.  He  disports  him- 
self with  freedom  and  apparent  satisfaction  in  the  cooler 
regions  of  Friendship  and  Patriotism.  We  extract  the  chapter 
on  the  former  subject,  as  an  agreeable  specimen  of  his  manner 
in  this  part  of  the  work.  In  the  few  observations  which  he 
makes  upon  the  character  of  the  Instinctive  Principles  of  our 
nature,  considered  as  motives  to  action,  he  distinctly  states, 
that  he  does  not  regard  even  the  Benevolent  affections  as  Vtr- 
tuous.  This  opinion  is  in  accordance  with  his  general  theory, 
which  we  shall  examine  hereafter.  In  the  mean  time,  we 
cannot  but  express  our  wonder,  that  his  own  excellent  feelings 
should  not  have  secured  him  against  an  error,  so  repulsive  in 
itselT,  and  so  plainly  reprobated  by  the  common  sense  of  the 
world. 

*  Friendship,  like  all  other  benevolent  affections,  includes  two 
things  \  an  agreeable  feeling,  and  a  desire  of  happiness  to  its 
object. 


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1830.]  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy. 

'  Besides,  however,  the  agreeable  feelings  common  to  all  the 
exertions  of  benevolence,  there  are  some  peculiar  to  friendship. 
I  before  took  notice  of  the  pleasure  we  derive  from  communi- 
cating our  thoughts  and  our  feelings  toothers;  but  this  com- 
munication, prudence  and  propriety  restrain  us  from  making  to 
strangers ;  and  hence  the  satisfaction  wer  enjoy  in  the  society  of 
one,  to  whom  we  can  communicate  every  circumstance  in  our 
situation,  and  can  trust  every  secret  of  our  heart. 

*  There  is  also  a  wonderAil  pleasure  arising  from  the  sym- 
pathy of  our  fellow-creatures  with  our  joys  and  with  our  sorrows, 
nay,  even  with  our  tastes  and  our  humors ;  but,  in  the  ordinary 
commerce  of  the  world,  we  are  often  disappointed  in  our  expec- 
tation of  this  enjoyment*;  a  disappointment  which  is  peculiarly 
incident  to  men  of  genius  and  sensibility,  superior  to  the  com- 
mon, who  frequently  feel  themselves  ''alone  in  the  midst  of  the 
crowd,"  and  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  accommodating  their 
own  temper,  and  their  own  feelings,  to  a  standard  borrowed 
from  those  whom  tkey  cannot  help  thinking  undeserving  of  such 
a  sacrifice. 

'  It  is  only  in  the  society  of  a  friend,  that  this  sympathy  is  at 
all  times  to  be  found ;  and  the  pleasing  reflection,  that  we  have 
it  in  our  power  to  command  so  exquisite  a  gratification,  consti- 
tutes, perhaps,  the  principal  charm  of  this  connexion.  ''What 
we  call  affection,"  says  Mr.  Smith,  "  is  nothing  but  a  habitual 
sympathy."  I  will  not  go  quite  so  far  as  to  adopt  this  propo- 
sition in  all  its  latitude,  but  I  perfectly  agree  with  this  profound 
and  amiable  moralist  in  thinking,  that  the  experience  of  this 
sympathy  is  the  chief  foundation  of  friendship,  and  one  of  the 
principal  sources  of  the  pleasures  which  it  yields.  Nor  is  it  at 
all  inconsistent  with  this  observation  to  remark,  that,  where  the 
groundwork  of  two  characters  in  point  of  moral  worth  is  the 
same,  there  is  sometimes  a  contrast  in  the  secondary  qualities  of 
taste^  of  intellectual  accomplishments,  and  even  of  animal  spirits, 
which,  instead  of  presenting  obstacles  to  friendship,  has  a  ten- 
dency to  bind  more  strongly  the  knot  of  mutual  attachment  be- 
tween the  parties.  Two  very  interesting  and  memorable  examples 
of  this,  may  be  found  in  Cuvier's  account  of  the  friendship  be- 
tween Buffon  and  Daubenton,  and  in  Play  fair's  account  of  the 
friendship  between  Black  and  Ilutton. 

'  I  do  not  mean  here  to  enter  into  the  consideration  of  the 
various  topics  relating  to  friendship,  which  are  commonly  dis- 
cussed by  writers  on  that  subject.  Most  of  these,  indeed,  I  may 
say  all  of  them,  are  beautifully  illustrated  by  Cicero  in  the 
Treatise  de  Amicitia,  in  which  he  has  presented  us  with  a  sum- 
mary of  all  that  was  most  valuable  on  this  article  of  ethics  in  the 
writings  of  preceding  philosophers;  and  so  comprehensive  is  the 


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230  Stewarts  Moral  PhUosophy.  [Julj, 

view  of  it  which  he  has  taken,  that  the  modern  authors  who  have 
treated  of  it,  have  done  little  more  than  to  repeat  his  observa- 
tions. 

'  One  question  concerning  friendship  much  agitated  in  the  an- 
cient schools  was,  "  whether  this  connexion  can  subsist  in  its  full 
perfection  between  more  than  two  persons  V*  And  I  believe  that 
it  was  the  common  decision  of  antiquity  that  it  cannot.  For  my 
own  part,  I  can  see  no  foundation  for  this  limitation,  and  I  own, 
it  seeȣi  to  me  to  have  been  suggested  more  by  the  dreams  of 
romance,  or  the  fables  of  ancient  mythology,  than  by  good  sense, 
or  an  accurate  knowledge  of  mankind.  The  passion  of  love  be- 
tween the  sexes  is  indeed  of  an  exclusive  nature;  and  the  jeal- 
ousy of  the  one  party  is  roused  the  ilioment  a  suspicion  arises 
that  the  attachment  of  the  other  is  in  any  degree  divided  ;  and 
by  the  way,  this  circumstance,  which  I  think  is  strongly  charac- 
teristical  of  that  connexion,  deserves  to  be  added  to  the  vari- 
ous other  considerations  which  show  that  monogamy  has  a 
foundation  in  human  nature.  But  the  feelings  of  friendship 
are  perfectly  of  a  different  sort.  If  our  friend  is  a  man  of  dis- 
cernment, we  rejoice  at  every  new  acquisition  he  makes,  as  it 
affords  us  an  opportunity  of  adding  to  our  own  list  of  worthy  and 
amiable  individuals,  and  we  eagerly  concur  with  him  in  pro- 
moting the  interests  of  those  who  are  dear  to  his  heart.  When 
we,  ourselves,  on  the  other  hand,  have  made  a  new  discovery  of 
worth  and  genius,  how  do  we  long  to  impart  the  same  satisfac- 
tion to  a  friend,  and  to  be  instrumental  in  bringing  together  the 
various  respectable  and  worthy  men  whom  the  accidents  of  life 
have  thrown  in  our  way ! 

*  I  acknowledge,  at  the  same  time,  that  the  number  of  our  at- 
tached and  confidential  friends  cannot  be  great,  otherwise  our 
attention  would  be  too  much  distracted  by  the  multiplicity  of  its 
objects,  and  the  views,  for  which  this  affection  of  the  mind  was 
probably  implanted,  would  be  frustrated  by  its  engaging  us  in 
exertions  beyond  the  extent  of  our  limited  abilities ;  and,  ac- 
cordingly, nature  has  made  a  provision  for  preventing  this  incon- 
venience, by  rendering  friendship  the  fruit  only  of  long  and  in- 
timate acquaintance.  It  is  strengthened  not  only  by  the  ac- 
quaintance, which  the  parties  have  with  each  other's  personal 
qualities,  but  with  their  histories,  situations,  and  connexions 
from  infancy ;  and  every  particular  of  this  sort  which  falls  under 
their  mutual  knowledge  forms  to  the  fancy  an  additional  rela- 
tion, by  which  they  are  united.  Men,  who  have  a  very  wide 
circle  of  friends  without  much  discrimination  or  preference,  are 
justly  suspected  of  being  incapable  of  genuine  friendship,  and 
indeed  are  generally  men  of  cold  and  selfish  character,  who  are 
influenced  chiefly  by  a  cool  and  systematical  regard  to  their  own 


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1830.]  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  231 

comfort,  and  who  value  the  social  intercourse  of  life  only  as  it  is 
subservient  to  their  accommodation  and  amusement. 

'  That  the  affection  of  friendship  includes  a  desire  of  happi- 
ness to  the  beloved  object,  it  is  unnecessary  to  observe.  There 
is,  however,  a  certain  limitation  of  the  remark,  which  occurs 
among  the  maxims  of  La  Rochefoucault,  and  which  has  been 
oflen  repeated  since  by  misanthropical  moralists,  "  that,  in  the 
distresses  of  our  best  friends,  there  is  always  something,  which 
does  not  displease  us."  It  may  be  proper  to  consider  in  what 
sense  this  is  to  be  understood,  and  how  far  it  has  a  foundation  in 
truth.  It  is  expressed  in  somewhat  equivocal  terms ;  and  I  sus- 
pect, owes  much  of  its  plausibility  to  this  very  circumstance. 

'From  the  triumphant  air  with  which  the  maxim  in  question 
has  been  generally  quoted  by  the  calumniators  of  human  nature,  it 
has  evidently  been  supposed  by  them  to  imply,  that  the  misfortunes 
of  our  best  friends  give  us  more  pleasure  than  pain.  But  this  La 
Rochefoucault  has  not  said,  nor  indeed  could  a  proposition  so 
obviously  false  and  extravagant  have  escaped  the  pen  of  so  acute 
a  writer.  What  La  Rochefoucault  has  said,  amounts  only  to 
this,  that,  in  the  distresses  of  our  best  friends,  the  pain  we  feel 
is  not  altogether  unmixed  ; — a  proposition  unquestionably  true, 
whenever  we  have  an  opportunity  of  soothing  their  sorrows  by 
the  consolations  of  sympathy,  or  of  evincing,  by  more  substantial 
services,  the  sincerity  and  strength  of  our  attachment.  But  the 
pleasure  we  experience  in  such  cases,  so  far  from  indicating  any 
thing  selfish  or  malevolent  in  the  heart,  originates  in  principles 
of  a  directly  opposite  description,  and  will  be  always  most  pure 
and  exquisite  in  the  most  disinterested  and  generous  characters. 
The  maxim,  indeed,  when  thus  interpreted,  is  not  less  true  when 
applied  to  our  own  distresses  than  to  those  of  our  friends.  In 
the  bitterest  cup  that  may  fall  to  the  lot  of  either  there  are  al- 
ways mingled  some  cordial  drops, — in  the  misfortunes  of  others, 
the  consolation  of  administering  relief, — in  our  own,  that  of  r€- 
ceiving  it  from  the  sympathy  of  those  we  love. 

'  Whether  La  Rochefoucault,  in  the  satirical  humor,  which 
dictated  the  greater  part  of  his  maxims,  did  not  wish,  in  the  pre- 
sent instance,  to  convey  by  his  words  a  little  more  than  meets  the 
ear,  I  do  not  presume  to  determine.' 

The  Rational  or  Governing  Principles  of  our  nature,  which 
form  the  subject  of  the  second  book,  are,  in  the  system  of 
Mr.  Stewart,  Self-love  and  the  Moral  Faculty.  The  former  is 
despatched  somewhat  hastily  in  a  single  chapter,  while  the  lat- 
ter is  treated  more  at  large  in  the  rest  of  the  book.  In  con- 
sidering the  nature  of  Self-love^  Mr.  Stewart  distmguishes  it 


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232  Stewart's  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

from  the  instinctive  principles,  which  have  for  their  object  the 
gratification  of  the  senses,  and  describes  it  as  a  rational  princi- 
ple, which  looks  to  the  general  weD-being  or  happmess  of  the 
individual.  The  name  Self-love,  which  has  been  given  to  this 
principle,  is,  as  Mr.  Stewart  justly  remarks,  '  exceptionable, 
because  it  suggests  an  analogy,  where  there  is  none  in  fact, 
between  that  regard,  which  every  rational  being  must  necessa- 
rily have  for  his  own  happiness,  and  those  benevolent  affec- 
tions which  attach  us  to  our  fellow  creatures.'  Love  is  in  fact 
an  essentially  social  feeling,  and  the  phrase  Self-love  is  of 
course  contradictory  in  terms.  This  is,  however,  a  mere 
question  of  words.  It  is  of  more  importance  to  remark,  that 
the  reality  of  any  such  distinct  principle,  as  the  author  here 
designates  under  the  name  of  Self-love,  is  perhaps  extremely 
doubtful.  It  is,  as  he  explains  it,  a  desire  of  happiness.  Now 
happiness  is  the  state  of  general  well-being,  which  results  from 
the  heakhy  exercise  of  all  our  natural  powers  and  faculties. 
But  we  are  led  to  the  exercise  of  these  powers  and  faculties 
by  a  variety  of  principles,  some  selfish  and  some  social ;  all 
of  which  have  for  their  immediate  object,  not  the  general  re- 
sult, happiness — ^but  the  attainment  of  some  particular  good, 
either  for  ourselves  or  others.  Experience  teaches  us  that  our 
own  happiness  is  promoted  by  seeking  that  of  others ;  but  we 
also  find  that  this  efifect  is  not  produced  unless  we  seek  the 
good  of  others  from  benevolent  feeling,  and  without  reference 
to  any  selfish  motive.  This  fact  is  remarked  by  Mr.  Stewart 
himself. 

*  The  man/  says  he,  '  who  is  most  successfiil  in  the  pursuit  of 
happiness  is  not  he  who  proposes  it  to  himself  as  the  great  object 
of  his  pursuit.  To  do  so,  and  to  be  continually  occupied  with 
schemes  on  the  subject,  would  fill  the  mind  with  anxious  conjec- 
tures about  futurity,  and  with  perplexing  calculations  of  the  va- 
rious chances  of  good  and  evil ;  whereas  the  man,  whose  ruling 
principle  of  action  is  a  sense  of  duty,  conducts  himself  in  the 
business  of  life  with  boldness,  consistency,  and  dignity,  and 
finds  himself  rewarded  with  that  happiness,  which  so  often 
eludes  the  pursuit  of  those  who  exert  every  faculty  of  the  mind 
in  order  to  attain  it.' 

If  then  we  had  within  us  an  instinctive  desire  of  happiness, 
which  is,  as  we  have  seen,  an  indirect  result  of  the  exercise  of 
our  social  as  well  as  selfish  feelings,  this  desire  would  defeat 
its  own  purpose  ;  since,  as  far  as  we  acted  in  obedience  to  it. 


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1830.]  Stewart's  Moral  Philosophy^  233 

we  should  deprive  ourselves  of  the  principal  element  of  hap- 
piness, which  consists  in  the  exercise  of  disinterested  benevo- 
lence. The  supposition  of  a  natural  desire  of  happiness  is, 
therefore,  the  supposition  of  a  desire  prompting  to  us  a  Ime  of 
conduct,  which  prevents  the  attainment  of  the  object  by  which 
this  desire  is  to  be  gratified,  and  is  obviously  absurd.  Happi- 
ness, instead  of  being,  as  the  poet  describes  it,  the  '  end  and 
aim  of  our  existence,'  is  the  indirect  result  of  a  conduct  di- 
rected by  higher  views,  and  pursued  without  reference,  and 
often  in  apparent  or  temporary  opposition  to  our  own  imme- 
diate interest.  All  the  active  principles  of  our  nature,  when 
properly  directed,  concur  in  producing  it ;  and  these,  as  we 
have  remarked,  may  be  classed  under  the  two  heads  of  selfish 
and  social  principles  ;  but  if  it  were  necessary  to  decide  which 
of  these  tend  most  effectually  in  their  exercise  to  promote  hap- 
piness, the  preference  should  undoubtedly  be  given  to  those  of 
the  latter  class.  The  gratification  of  those  desires,  which  end 
in  self,  is  attended  with  temporary  pleasure,  but  as  respects 
our  general  and  permanent  well-being  its  effect  is  almost 
wholly  negative.  This  depends  in  a  great  measure,  if  not  en- 
tirely, on  the  exercise  of  social  and  benevolent  affections — 
youtiiful  love^-coniugal,  parental,  and  filial  tenderness — chari- 
ty, friendship,  patriotism,  and  the  expansive  philanthropy  that 
embraces  the  fortunes  of  .the  whole  human  race.  The  merely 
selfish  pleasures  are  brief  and  transitory,  followed  by  disgust, 
and  accompanied  by  a  secret  shame :  but  these  noble  and  amia-" 
ble  sentiments  fill  the  soul  with  conscious  satisfaction,  and  diffuse 
a  cheerful  and  sunny  light  over  the  course  of  our  existence. 

Of  the  two  Rational  fkiA  Governing  principles  supposed  by 
our  author,  the  reality  of  the  former,  which  he  calls  Self-love, 
is  therefore  extremely  questionable.  The  other  which  he  de- 
nominates the  Moral  Faculty,  is  treated  at  much  greater  length, 
and  is  evidently  regarded  as  of  far  more  importance.  Mr. 
Stewart  indeed,  expressly  states — as  we  have  already  remarked 
— ^that  it  is  the  principal  object  of  the  work  to  explain  and  illus- 
trate the  nature  of  this  faculty.  We  propose  to  examine  with 
some  attention  the  view  which  he  has  taken  of  the  subject,  and 
shall  perhaps  in  the  sequel  find  reason  to  question  the  reality 
of  this,  as  well  as  of  the  other  principle,  if  considered  as  a 
distinct  and  independent  part  of  our  nature,  and  to  conclude 
that  the  Moral  Faculty,  as  far  as  it  has  any  actual  existence,  is 
little  more  than  another  name  for  the  same  social  and  benevo- 

voL.  XXXI. — NO.  68.  30 


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234  Stewart^s  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

lent  affections,  which  we  have  just  described  as  the  chief 
sources  of  happiness,  and  which  we  also  believe  to  be  the  most 
important  elements  of  virtue. 

In  treating  this  part  of  his  subject,  Mr.  Stewart  observes  the 
foUowing  method.  He  first  examines  and  refutes  the  selfish 
system,  which  denies  the  reality  of  moral  distmctions,  and  repre^ 
sents  self-love  as  the  only  principle  of  action.  In  opposition  to 
this  theory,  he  establishes  the  doctrine  that  we  have  within  us 
a  principle  or  faculty  of  some  kind,  which  distinguishes  actions, 
without  any  reference  to  their  operation  upon  ourselves,  ac- 
cordingly as  they  possess  or  want  certain  qualities,  which  we 
call  Moral.  What  then  is  the  nature  of  this  principle,  and  of 
the  quality  in  actions  which  corresponds  with  it,  and  brings  it 
into  exercise  ?  After  examining  successively  the  opinions  which 
refer  the  perception  of  moral  qualities  to  the  understanding, 
and  to  a  distinct  power  called  a  Moral  Sense,  Mr.  Stewart  con- 
cludes that  both  these  theories  are  true,  and  that  we  recognize 
moral  distinctions  at  the  same  time  by  the  understanding  and 
the  heart.  On  this  supposition,  it  would  appear  more  natural 
to  speak  of  our  Moral  r'aculties,  than  to  use  the  term,  as  our 
author  constantly  does,  in  the  singular  number.  What  then  is 
the  nature  of  this  distinction  ?  or  in  other  words,  what  is  the 
precise  meanmg  conveyed  by  the  expressions  Right  and 
Wrong?  Of  this,  says  Mr.  Stewart,  we  can  give  no  account. 
The  ideas  we  attach  to  these  terms  are  simple  and  wholly 
unsusceptible  of  definition  or  explanation.  We  can  only  say 
of  them,  that  the  qualities  they  respectively  indicate  are  ap- 
proved and  disapproved  by  our  moral  faculties.  Lastly,  what 
is  the  source  of  the  obligation  which  we  suppose  ourselves 
to  be  under,  to  do  what  is  right  and  abstain  fi-om  what  is 
wrong  ?  In  answering  this  question,  our  author  rejects  in  suc- 
cession the  theories,  which  place  the  foundation  of  moral  obli- 
gation in  the  will  of  God,  and  in  the  utility  of  virtue  ;  and 
concludes  in  the  end  that  it  is  absurd  to  ask  the  question,  why 
we  are  bound  to  do  right,  since  the  idea  of  obligation  is  implied 
in  that  of  virtue ;  tliat  is,  according  to  his  definition,  in  the 
idea  of  an  action,  which  is  the  subject  of  the  approbation  of 
conscience.  Such  is  a  brief  sketch  of  the  leading  points  of  the 
theory  of  Mr.  Stewart  on  this  important  topic.  We  proceed 
to  offer  some  remarks  upon  each  of  its  principal  divisions. 

I.     That  pleasure  is  the  only  good,  the  attainment  of  pleas- 
ure the  only  natural  motive  to  action,  and  the  tendency  to  give 


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1830.]  Stewart's  Moral  PhUoaophy.  235 

pleasure  the  only  distmguishing  characteristic  of  the  actions  we 
call  virtuous,  are  the  leading  principles  of  a  creed  in  philoso- 
phy, which  in  all  ages  and  nations  has  been  practised  upon  to 
a  very  considerable  extent  by  a  portion  of  society,  and  has 
been  at  times  professed  as  a  theory,  and  received  with  a  pretty 
general  favor.  These  principles  formed  the  basis  of  the  sys- 
tem of  Epicurus,  which  in  the  decline  of  the  Roman  Empire 
became  the  dominant  opinion  throughout  the  civilized  world. 
The  doctrine  was  revived  in  France  by  Gassendi,  about  two 
hundred  years  ago,  and  gaining  ground  very  rapidly,  became 
in  the  following  century  the  prevalent  belief  of  the  higher 
classes  in  that  country,  from  which  it  spread  itself  over  the 
other  parts  of  Europe  until  it  assumed  once  more  the  imposing 
shape  of  the  dominant  opinion  of  the  age.  Its  practical  results 
were  soon  exhibited  in  the  tremendous  political  revolptions 
which  convulsed  the  world  at  the  close  of  tlie  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. A  vigorous  offset  from  this  tree  of  poison  was  planted  in 
England,  and  for  a  time  shot  up  and  flourished  with  a  good 
deal  of  luxuriance.  The  doctrine  acquired  indeed  at  that 
time  and  maintains  up  to  the  present  day,  a  pretty  strong  hold 
on  the  public  sentiment  of  the  mother  country,  and  is  perhaps 
at  this  moment  under  some  of  its  different  modifications,  the 
one  most  generally  received  by  inquiring  and  thinking  men. 
Whatever  may  be  its  merits  or  defects  it  has  obviously  no  pre- 
tensions to  novelty  ;  and  it  is  therefore  not  a  little  singular  that 
it  should  have  been  announced  in  our  own  day,  with  great 
p(»np  and  circumstance  as  a  new  discovery.  The  Utilitarian 
system  is  plainly,  nothing  more  than  a  new  proclamation,  with 
perhaps  some  slight  variations  in  form,  of  the  old  Epicurean 
philosophy,  which  was  always  popular  in  England  ;  which  had 
been  professed  with  a  kind  of  fanaticism,  and  pushed  to  ex- 
travagance in  France  within  half  a  century  preceding ;  and 
which  had  been  familiarly  known  for  at  least  two  thousand 
yeaiis,  as  one  of  the  two  leading  opinions  that  had  always 
divided  the  philosophic  world.  Mr.  Bentham  does  not  seem 
to  be  aware  of  any  of  these  facts,  and  on  the  strength  of  having 
republished  this  ancient  and  venerable  heresy  under  the  barba- 
rous title  of  the  greatest  happiness  principle,  very  honestly 
believes  himself  to  be  the  Newton  of  Moral  Science.  It  is 
really  a  singular  thing,  that  at  a  time  when  Paley  was  still  in 
all  the  freshness  of  his  popularity,  any  person  of  sound  mind — 
we  have,  it  is  true,  some  doubts  whether  the  Philosopher  of 


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236  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  [Jutyi 

Queen  Square  can  be  fairly  ranked  in  that  category — should 
think  of  promulgating  the  Utilitarian  theory  as  a  brilliant  nov- 
elty, and  should  even  obtain  followers  enough  to  give  him  the 
appearance  of  being  the  founder  of  a  school. 

The  leading  argument  in  favor  of  this  system,  results  from 
the  fact  that  virtue  is  on  the  whole  productive  of  pleasure  and 
advantage  to  the  individual.  Self-interest,  therefore,  should 
naturally  lead  to  the  practice  of  it,  and  tliis  motive  being  suffi- 
cient to  account  for  the  effect,  it  is  unphilosophical  to  suppose 
the  existence  of  any  other.  Hence  utility  or  the  tendency  to 
give  pleasure  is  the  essence  of  virtue,  and  self-interest,  that  is, 
die  love  of  pleasure,  the  only  principle  of  actk)n. 

The  objection  to  the  system  lies  in  the  not  less  certain  facts 
that  we  estimate  the  moral  value  of  actions  not  according  to 
their  results,  but  according  to  the  motives  of  the  agents,  that 
we  are  conscious  of  acting  in  many  cases  upon  motives  entirely 
foreign  to  any  regard  to  our  own  pleasure  or  interest,  and  that 
actions  which  we  should  under  other  circumstances  pronoimce 
to  be  virtuous,  lose  their  character  and  cease  to  be  so,  if  we 
find  that  they  were  performed  from  selfish  motives.  Thus  if  I 
relieve  a  mendicant  in  the  street,  from  a  sentiment  of  charity, 
the  action  is  virtuous  ;  but  if  I  do  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  be 
*  seen  of  men,'  and  for  that  purpose,  it  is  not  only  not  virtuous, 
but  actually  vicious.  On  the  tjtilitarian  scheme,  the  action 
ought  in  the  latter  case  to  be  still  more  virtuous,  than  in  the 
former,  because  it  produces  the  same  generally  useful  effects 
as  before,  with  the  additional  advantage  of  promoting  to  a  still 
greater  extent  the  personal  interest  of  the  agent.  Utility  then, 
although  it  may  be  the  result,  is  not  the  principle  of  virtue ; 
and  self-interest,  although  in  many  cases  a  justifiable  and  vir- 
tuous motive  of  action,  is  by  no  means  the  only  one. 

These  facts  are  not  denied  by  the  partisans  of  the  selfish  sys- 
tem, and  the  awkwardness  of  their  attempts  to  account  for 
them  consistently  with  it,  is  a  strong  subsidiary  argument  against 
its  truth.  The  feebleness  of  their  reasoning  on  this  head  b 
particularly  apparent  in  the  case  of  Paley,  one  of  the  most 
intelligent,  zealous,  and  popular  professors  of  the  system. 
Paley  was  a  person  of  great  directness  and  sincerity,  con- 
scious of  the  general  purity  of  his  intentions,  and  of  a  real  res- 
pect for  religion  and  morality.  With  this  confidence  in  the 
uprightness  of  his  own  views,  he  felt  no  scruple  about  following 
his  Qieories  wherever  they  carried  him.     The  only  wonder  is, 


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1830.]  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  237 

that  his  conclusions  should  not  have  had  upon  his  own  sound 
and  clear  understanding  the  effect,  which  they  must  have,  we 
think,  upon  that  of  every  intelligent  reader,  of  a  reductio  ad 
absurdumkoi  his  leading  principles,  and  brought  him  back  to 
a  different  system.  The  statement  to  which  we  allude,  and 
which  is  quoted  by  Mr.  Stewart  in  the  work  before  us,  is  as 
follows : 

*  There  is  always  understood  to  be  a  difference  between  an 
act  of  prudence  and  an  act  of  duty.  Thus,  if  I  distrusted  a  man 
who  owed  me  a  sum  of  money,  I  should  reckon  it  an  act  of  pru- 
dence to  get  another  person  bound  with  him,  but  I  should  hardly 
call  it  an  act  of  duty.  On  the  other  hand,  it  would  be  thought 
a  very  unusual  and  loose  kind  of  language  to  say,  that  as  I  had 
made  such  a  promise,  it  was  prudent  to  perform  it ;  or  that,  as 
my  friend  when  he  went  abroad,  had  placed  a  box  of  jewels  in 
my  bauds,  it  was  prudent  in  me  to  preserve  it  for  him  till  he 
returned. 

'  Now  in  what,  you  will  ask,  does  the  difference  consist,  inas- 
much as  according  to  our  account  of  the  matter,  both  in  the 
one  case  and  in  the  other — in  acts  of  duty  as  well  as  acts  of  pru- 
dence— we  consider  solely  what  we  ourselves  shall  gain  or  lose 
by  the  act  1 

*  The  difference,  and  the  only  difference  is,  that  in  the  one 
case  we  consider  what  we  shall  gain  or  lose  in  the  present  world, 
while  in  the  other  case,  we  consider  also  what  we  shall  gain  or 
lose  in  the  world  to  come.' 

This  is  indeed,  as  Mr.  Stewart  justly  remarks,  a  curious 
passage.  It  requires  all  the  respect  that  we  really  feel  for 
Paley,  to  induce  us  to  believe  that  he  was  in  earnest  in  writing 
it.  It  is  of  course  unnecessary  to  refute  such  reasoning  in  a 
formal  way,  and  it  is  almost  superfluous  to  remark  that  an 
action  is  equally  the  result  of  calculation — that  is,  equally  per- 
formed from  selfish  views — ^whether  the  advantages  expected 
from  it  are  to  be  enjoyed  at  one  period  or  another.  On  this 
supposition,  therefore,  our  actions  would  be  all  acts  of  pru- 
dence, so  that  the  theory — besides  being  obviously  inconsist- 
ent with  experience — involves  a  denial  of  the  very  difference 
which  it  admits,  and  professes  to  account  for. 

A  more  popular,  although  not  more  plausible  explanation  of 
the  problem,  which  Paley  has  here  so  unsuccessfully  attempted 
to  solve,  is  to  be  found  in  the  theories  of  some  other  partizans 
of  the  selfish  system,  who  undertake  to  account  for  our  Social 
feelings,  the  reality  of  which  they  also  admit,  by  the  effect 


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238  Stewards  Moral  PhiUmphy.  [July, 

of  the  association  of  ideas.  The  exercise  of  these  feelings  is 
attended  with  a  sentiment  of  pleasure,  and  the  actions  which 
we  perform  under  their  influence,  generally  tend  in  the  last 
result,  to  the  promotion  of  our  own  advantage.  Having  learn- 
ed these  facts  from  experience,  we  gradually  come  to  cusocicUe 
with  the  performance  of  such  actions,  the  idea  of  the  advant- 
age which  we  shall  ourselves  derive  from  them  ;  and  although 
their  immediate  and  apparent  object  be  the  welfare  of  others, 
we  really  perform  them  from  selfish  motives  as  truly  as  if  our 
own  profit  or  pleasure  were  directly  concerned. 

This  theory  is  countenanced  by  Paley  in  other  passages  of 
his  work.  It  is  also  the  one  adopted  by  the  school  of  Ben- 
tham,  and  is  developed  at  length  in  the  late  work  of  Mill  on 
the  Philosophy  of  the  Mind.  Like  the  one  we  have  just  been 
considering,  it  admits  the  reality  of  our  social  feelings,  and 
hke  that,  fails  entirely  in  the  attempts  to  account  for  them 
consistently  with  the  truth  of  the  selfish  system.  On  this  sys- 
tem, self-interest  is  the  only  natural  motive  to  action,  but  we 
are  nevertheless  conscious  of  feelings  which  prompt  us  to  seek 
the  good  of  others.  How  then  did  we  obtain  these  feelings, 
which  are,  it  seems,  originally  no  part  of  our  constitution  ? 
We  obtam  them,  says  the  Utilitarian,  by  the  effect  of  associa- 
tion. Now  it  is  easy  to  conceive,  that  habit  and  association 
may  in  some  degree  vary  the  direction  or  application  of  any 
natural  sentiment  or  power ;  but  it  is  quite  clear  that  they  can- 
not create  a  sentiment  or  power  which  we  do  not  naturally 
possess.  Habit  may  enable  a  man,  for  example,  to  employ 
his  arms  for  the  purpose  of  walking,  and  to  go  on  all  fours  with 
some  degree  of  facility.  By  long  practice,  he  may  qualify 
himself  to  dance  upon  a  tight  rope,  or  to  tread  the  ceiling  of 
a  room  with  his  head  downwards,  like  a  fly.  But  will  habit 
give  him  an  additbnal  arm,  or  leg,  or  even  finger?  Will 
it  so  much  as  add  another  to  the  hairs  of  his  head,  which,  as 
we  are  told  in  scripture,  are  all  numbered  ?  Will  any  varia- 
tion in  the  usual  motions  and  postures  of  his  limbs  enable  him 
to  wing  his  way  through  the  air  like  a  bird,  or  to  inhabit  the 
depths  of  the  sea  like  a  fish  ?  These  questions  will  hardly  be 
answered  by  any  reasonable  person  in  the  affirmative,  and  the 
attempt  to  account  for  our  social  feelings  on  the  principle  of 
association,  involves  absurdities  of  a  precisely  similar  descrip- 
tion. The  social  and  selfish  feelings  are  as  completely  dis- 
tinct from  each  other  as  any  two  of  our  outward  senses  or 


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1S30.]  Stewarfs  Moral  PhOoBophy.  239 

internal  faculties ;  and  the  supposition,  that  the  existence  of 
either  is  the  result  of  an  accidental  modification  of  the  natu- 
ral action  of  the  (^er,  is  just  as  philosophical  and  probable  as 
it  would  be  to  suppose  that  hearing  is  a  modification  of  touch, 
or  sight  the  effect  of  an  accidental  variation  in  the  direction  of 
the  sense  of  smell.  In  short,  we  canned  in  any  case  attribute 
the  slightest  influence  to  the  prmciple  of  association,  without 
admitting,  in  the  first  place,  the  reality  of  the  power  of  which 
the  action  is  supposed  to  be*  augmented  or  modified  by  it ; 
that  is,  in  the  present  instance,  the  reality  of  our  social  feel- 
ings, and  with  it  the  falsehood  of  the  selfish  theory. 

If  the  case  were  not  too  clear  to  require  much  argument,  it 
might  be  added,  that  the  early  period  of  life  at  which  our 
moral  sentiments  display  themselves,  is  a  sufficient  proof  that 
they  are  not  the  result  of  habit  or  experience.  This  fact  is 
noticed  by  Paley,  and  he  endeavors  to  account  for  it  in  regard 
to  such  of  them  as  he  cannot  conveniently  resolve  into  self- 
interest  on  the  principle  of  imitation, 

*  There  is  nothing,'  says  he,  *  which  children  imitate  or  apply 
more  readily  than  expressions  of  affection  or  aversion  ;  of  ap- 
probation, hatred,  resentment,  and  the  like ;  and  when  once 
these  passions  and  expressions  are  connected — ^which  they  will 
soon  be  hy  the  same  association  which  unites  words  with  their 
ideas — the  passion  will  follow  the  expression,  and  attach  upon 
the  object  to  which  the  child  has  been  accustomed  to  apply 
the  epithet.  In  a  word,  when  almost  every  thing  else  is  learn- 
ed by  imitation^  can  we  wonder  to  find  the  same  cause  con- 
cerned in  the  generation  of  our  moral  sentiments  ?' 

It  seems,  therefore,  that  each  succeeding  generation  ,  of 
men  acquires  its  moral  sentiments  by  imitating  the  actions  of 
the  preceding  one.  By  the  help  of  this  theory  we  can  go 
back  with  great  facility  to  the  first  generation  or  the  first  pair. 
But  how  did  they,  who  had  no  one  to  imitate,  acquire  their 
moral  sentiments  ?  Here  the  theory  is  plainly  at  fault.  It  is 
the  old  fable  of  the  Indian  Astronomer,  who  maintained  that 
the  earth  reposed  on  the  back  of  a  large  elephant,  and  the 
elephant  on  the  shell  of  a  gigantic  tortoise.  But  what  supports 
the  tortoise  ?  was  naturally  die  next  question.  *  Oh  !'^  replied 
the  Hindu,  *  that  I  do  not  know.' 

It  is  truly  painful  and  pitiful  to  see  writers  of  instruction,  in- 
telligence, and  apparently  correct  intentions,  contenting  them- 
selves widi  sophistry  of  the  grossest  and  most  palpable  kind 


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240  Stewart^  Motal  PhUosapky.  [July, 

for  no  better  reason  than  because  it  afRirds  them  a  pretext 
for  denying  the  reality  of  the  best  and  noblest  qualities  of  our 
nature  ;  of  those  qualities,  without  which — as  Bacon  justly  and 
strikingly  remarks — ^man  b  but  a  busy  and  wretched  creature, 
no  better  than  the  vermin.  If  such  were  in  fact  our  miserable 
and  degraded  condition,  it  would  be  natural  and  commendable 
to  give  way  to  any  illusions  which  had  a  tendency  to  elevate 
our  notions  of  the  human  character  and  destiny.  I  would 
rather,  said  the  noble-minded  TuUy,  be  in  the  wrong  with 
Plato  than  in  the  right  with  Epicurus.  Thb  sentiment  will 
find  a  response  in  every  generous  heart.  But  admit  for  argu- 
ment's sake,  that  it  is  more  generous  than  philosophical ;  ad- 
mit that  we  are  bound  as  honest  and  fearless  inquirers  to  fol- 
low truth  wherever  it  may  lead  us,  were  it  even 

Through  bogs,  fens,  lakes,  seas,  rocks,  and  shoals  of  death, 
A  universe  of  death 

admit,  as  Bonaparte  said  of  his  colonies,  that  our  hopes  and 
happiness  must  be  sacrificed  rather  than  a  principle  ;  we  may 
still  pertinently  ask,  why  we  should  exert  a  peiTerse  ingenuity, 
deny  or  torture  facts,  falsify  consciousness,  and  put  up  with 
the  flimsiest  appearance  of  argument  for  the  ^  strange  purpose 
of  reducing  ourselves  to  the  level  of  the  brutes.  We  may 
conceive  that  an  individual,  beset  with  strong  temptation  and 
abandoned  by  Providence,  shall  commit  an  act  of  forgery, 
which,  if  undiscovered,  will  convey  to  him  a  large  amount  of 
wealth.  But  who  in  his  senses  would  forge  a  draft  upon  him- 
self, the  payment  of  which  must  bring  him  with  all  his  friends 
and  family  to  bankruptcy  and  ruin  ?  This  example  is,  never- 
theless, a  correct  illustration  of  the  conduct  of  the  writers  who 
maintain  these  degrading  theories.  If  it  were  possible  to  give 
the  system  a  coloring  of  probability,  the  actions  of  its  sup- 
porters would  undoubtedly  be  much  more  efficient  for  the 
purpose  than  their  arguments. 

In  the  above  remarks,  we  have  followed  in  the  main  the 
course  of  Mr.  Stewart,  who  fully  recognises  the  reality  of 
moral  distinctions,  and  establishes  it  in  opposition  to  the  par- 
tisans of  the  selfish  system,  upon  the  steadfast  and  immovable 
basis  of  CONSCIENCE,  that  is,  a  principle  within  us  which  ap- 
proves and  disapproves  of  actions  according  to  their  moral 
qualities,  and  often  without  any  reference  to  their  effect  upon 
our  own  interest.    His  views  are  therefore  substantially,  and  in 


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18S0.]  Stetoarfs  Moral  Philosophy.  241 

their  leading  features  correct ;  and  the  work  that  exhibits  them, 
although  not  free  from  considerable  errors,  may  be  perused 
without  danger,  and  roust  tend,  on  the  whole,  to  strengthen  the 
great  cause  of  religion  and  virtue.  After  affirming  and  estab- 
lishing the  reality  of  Conscience^  oi*  the  Moral  Faculty^  the 
author  proceeds,  in  the  farther  development  of  his  theory,  to 
inquire  into  the  nature  of  this  principle,  and  of  the  quality  in 
actions  which  corresponds  with  it  and  brings  it  into  exercise. 
We  shall  briefly  examine  his  opinions  on  these  heads,  which, 
though  ingenious  and  ably  supported,  do  not  appear  to  us  to 
be  so  entirely  free  from  question,  as  tliose  which  we  have  just 
been  examining.  The  extreme  importance  of  the  subject 
will,  we  hope,  be  received  by  our  readers  as  an  apology  for 
what  might  otherwise  appear  a  rather  long  discussion. 

II.  Supposing  then  the  reality  of  Conscience^  or  a  principle 
within  us  by  which  we  recognise  the  moral  qualities  of  actions, 
the  question  next  presents  itself — ^what  is  the  nature  of  this 
principle  or  faculty  ?  Is  it  the  Understanding  in  the  exercise  of 
its  ordinary  powers,  or  the  same  Understanding  in  the  exercise 
of  some  extraordinary  power  with  which  it  is  furnished  by 
nature  for  this  particular  object  ?  If  not  the  Understanding,  is  it 
a  feeling  ?  and  if  so,  is  it  one  or  more  of  our  acknowledged 
affections,  considered  under  a  new  point  of  view,  or  is  it  a  dis- 
tinct and  separate  sentiment,  appropriated  exclusively  to  this 
function,  and  having  some  analogy  with  our  external  senses  ? 

These  inquiries  were  not  much  agitated  in  the  ancient 
schools,  and  have  chiefly  grown  up  since  the  revival  of  phi- 
losophy in  modern  Europe.  They  were  treated  for  the  first 
time  with  remarkable  power  and  learning  by  Cudworth,  in  his 
works  on  Immutable  Morality  and  the  Intellectual  System, 
Hobbes  had  asserted,  that  in  the  natural  state  of  man — ^by 
which  he  meant  a  state  anterior  to  the  existence  of  govern- 
ment— there  could  be  no  such  thing  as  moral  distinctions,  that 
these  were  wholly  a  matter  of  positive  institution,  and  tliat 
there  was  no  other  reason  for  saying  that  it  is  right  to  pay  a 
debt,  or  wrong  to  commit  a  murder,  excepting  that  these  ac- 
tions are  respectively  conformable  or  opposed  to  the  law  of 
the  land.  These  principles — ^monstrous  as  they  appear,  and  in 
fact  are— 'are  necessarily  implied  in  the  selfish  or  Utilitarian 
Aeory  under  all  its  forms.  It  is  obvious,  that  no  man  is  bound 
to  promote  his  own  pleasure  or  interest,  considered  as  such, 
any  further  than  it  may  suit  his  own  convenience  so  to  do. 

VOL.  XXXI. ^NO.  68.  31 


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242  Stewarfs  Moral  Philosophy.  [July 

Hence,  if  utility  be  the  essence  of  virtue,  and  pleasure  the 
only  motive  to  action,  there  is  in  fact  ni)  obligation  to  do  right, 
excepting  such  as  results  from  the  forms  of  positive  law.  The 
system,  maintained  under  one  of  its  worst  aspects  by  a  writer 
of  extraordinary  power  and  plausibility,  excited  of  course  a 
good  deal  of  sensation.  Cudworth,  in  refuting  it,  undertook 
to  establish  the  principle,  that  moral  distinctions  are  ibunded 
not  in  positive  enactments,  but  in  an  original  and  immutable 
law  of  nature.  This  law  in  his  theory  is  of  so  transcendant  a 
character,  that  it  is  not  only  independent  of  social  institutions 
but  superior  to  the  will  and  power  of  God  himself.  It  seems 
to  be,  in  his  view  of  it,  a  sort  of  sublime  and  mysterious  prin- 
ciple, resembling  the  fate  of  the  Grecian  mythology,  which 
controlled  and  over-mastered  every  thmg  else  in  the  universe, 
even  to  the  Father  of  the  Gods  himself.  This  extravagant 
idea,  to  which  we  shall  presently  give  some  attention,  is 
adopted  by  Stewart.  The  principle  by  which  we  acquire  our 
knowledge  of  moral  distinctions  is,  according  to  Cudworth,  the 
same  by  which  we  perceive  truth,  that  is,  the  Understand- 
ing, to  which  he  attributed  the  power  of  furnishing  us  with 
abstract  notions  entirely  independent  of  any  particular  ones  re- 
ceived through  the  senses.  Of  the  nature  of  moral  distinctions 
we  can  give  no  account.  Our  ideas  of  right  and  wrong  are 
simple  and  undefinable.  Every  one  knows  what  he  means  by 
these  terms,  but  nobody  can  furnish  any  explanation  of  his 
meaning.  This  paradoxical  notion  is  also  admitted  by  Stew- 
art, who  is  evidently  a  great  admirer— on  this  subject  we  may 
say  perhaps  a  disciple — of  the  learned,  able,  and  high-minded, 
but  not  remarkably  precise  and  clear-headed  author  of  the  Inr 
tellectual  System. 

The  obvious  correctness  and  salutary  tendency  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  Cudworth,  as  far  as  they  tended  to  place  the  founda- 
tion of  morals  above  the  sphere  of  positive  law,  together  with 
the  high  degree  of  ability  and  learning  displayed  in  his  works, 
recommended  them  strongly  to  the  public  favpr,  and  they 
were  generally  received  by  competent  judges  as  a  complete 
refutation  of  the  doctrine  of  Hobbes,  until  the  appearance  of 
the  Essay  of  Locke  on  the  Human  Understanding.  The 
theory  on  the  origin  of  ideas,  which  is  maintained  in  that 
work,  and  which  for  a  long  time  superseded  every  other  in  the 
public  opinion,  amounted  to  an  indirect  refutation  of  that  of 
Cudworth  vipon  the  nature  of  moral  distmctions.     Cudworth 


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1830.]  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  243 

held,  as  we  have  stated,  that  our  notions  of  right  and  wrong, 
although  abstract,  were  supplied  directly  by  the  Understanding, 
while  it  was  the  opinion  of  Locke,  that  the  Understanding 
furnishes  no  ideas  whatever  of  that  description,  and  that  all  our 
abstract  notions  were  only  generalisations  of  particular  ones, 
obtained  by  the  senses,  or  by  an  internal  observation  of  the 
operations  of  our  own  minds.  For  those  who  are  satisfied  with 
the  reasoning  of  Locke  on  this  subject — ^and  we  profess  to  be 
of  tliat  number — ^the  theory  of  Cudworth  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  we  acquire  our  knowledge  of  moral  distinctions  falls  of 
itself.  When,  however,  the  alarming,  and,  as  we  conceive, 
unjustifiable  deductions,  which  the  sceptics  of  France  and 
England  drew  from  the  principles  of  Li)cke,  had  created  a 
re-action  in  the  public  mind,  the  modern  schools  of  philosophy, 
which,  as  we  have  already  remarked,  grew  up  under  the  ope- 
ration of  it  in  Scotland  and  Germany,  reverted  on  this  head  to 
the  old  opinion,  and  affirmed  that  the  mind  possesses  the 
power  of  generatmg,  or  furnishing  from  its  own  resources,  ab- 
stract ideas,  wholly  independent  of  any  obtained  through  the 
senses.  To  this  class  belong,  in  their  opinion,  our  notions  of 
moral  distinctions.  Kant  accordingly  lays  down  tlie  principle 
with  perfect  precision  and  dogmatical  confidence.  Stewart 
apparently  wavers  a  little,  but  comes,  on  the  whole,  to  the 
same  conclusion.  In  some  passages  he  expressly  classes  our 
notions  of  right  and  wrong  with  those  of  cause  and  effect, 
number,  equality,  and  identity,  which  he  regards  as  immediate 
products  of  the  Understanding,  acting  independently  of  sensa- 
tion or  reflection.  In  others  he  asserts,  *  that  the  origin  of  our 
ideas  of  right  and  wrong  is  manifestly  the  same  with  that  of 
the  other  simple  ideas  already  mentioned ;  but  that  whether  it 
be  referred  to  the  understanding  or  not,  seems  to  be  a  matter 
of  mere  arrangement,  provided  it  be  granted,  that  the  words 
right  and  wrong  express  qualities  of  actions,  and  not  merely  a 
power,  of  exciting  agreeable  or  disagreeable  emotions  in  our 
minds.'  The  extreme  looseness  and  inaccuracy  of  this  lan- 
guage in  a  writer  generally  so  correct  as  Stewart  is  somewhat 
remarkable.  The  power  of  exciting  agreeable  or  disagreea- 
ble emotions  in  the  mind  is  obviously  as  much  a  qus^lity,  as 
that  of  creating  perceptions  in  the  Understanding,  so  that  the 
words  Right  and  Wrong  when  used  in  either  sense,  express 
equally  qualities  of  actions.  The  question,  whether  we  ought 
to  refer  the  perception  of  tliem  to  the  Understanding  or  the 


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344  StewartU  Moral  Philosophy,  [Jutyj 

heart,  may  be  comparatively  unimportant,  but  is,  neverthe- 
less, the  one  under  consideration  in  this  part  of  the  work, 
and  is  obviously  not  answered  by  saying  that  it  is  a  mat^ 
Ur  of  arrangement.  Mr.  Stewart  proceeds  to  remark,  that 
the  difference  of  opinion  may,  perhaps,  be  accounted  for 
by  the  difference  in  the  meanings  which  different  writers 
attach  to  the  term  Understanding ^--^aome  regardmg  it  as 
comprehending  all  our  intellectual  powers,  and  others  con- 
fining it  to  that  of  argumentation  and  deduction.  But  here 
again  his  view  of  the  subject  is  obviously  an  incorrect  one. 
Whatever  meaning  we  may  attach  to  the  term  Understandings 
it  is  equally  impossible,  on  the  theory  of  Locke,  that  this  fac- 
ulty can  supply  us  with  abstract  ideas,  and  the  difference  be- 
tween the  usages  of  different  writers  in  thb  respect,  has,  there- 
fore, no  effect  whatever  on  the  decision  of  the  question  at  issue. 
It  is  plain,  on  the  whole,  that  our  author  had  not  completely 
matured  his  opinions  upon  this  part  of  the  subject,  but  that  he 
ranked  himself  among  the  followers  of  Cudworth,  and  pro- 
fessed to  believe,  that  we  obtain  our  notions  of  right  and  wrong 
immediately  and  directly  by  an  original  exercise  of  our  in- 
tellectual power,  entirely  independent  of  any  operation  of  the 
senses. 

The  incorrectness  of  this  opinion  is,  as  we  remarked  above, 
a  necessary  corollary  firom  the  theory  of  Locke,  who  has  in 
fact  employed  a  portion  of  his  work  in  provmg  that  we  have 
no  Innate  or  original  Moral  Principles^  by  which  he  means 
general  ideas  on  the  subject  of  moral  distinctions.  The  plan 
of  his  Essay  did  not  lead  him  to  discuss,  in  great  detail,  the 
question  how  we  acquire  our  ideas  of  these  distinctions,  and 
his  doctrine  was  understood  by  some  persons,  particularly 
Lord  Shaftesbury,  as  involving  a  denial  of  their  reality,  which 
it  by  no  means  does.  It  was  perceived,  however,  by  all  to  in- 
volve consequences  affecting  the  probability  of  the  previously 
prevailing  opinions,  and  of  course  gave  rise  to  new  researches 
into  the  subject.  One  of  the  results  of  these  was  the  theory 
of  a  Moral  Sense^  which  was  brought  forward  in  a  very  plausi- 
ble shape  by  Hutcheson  in  the  early  part  of  the  last  century. 
Accor(]ing  to  this  writer.  Conscience^  or  the  internal  principle 
by  which  we  take  cognisance  of  moral  distinctions,  is  not  the 
Ui^derstandrng,  but  a  distinct  faculty,  analogous  to  our  external 
senses.  The  impressions  we  receive  through  the  medium  of 
this  faculty  are  not  perceptions,  but  emotions ;  and  the  intel- 


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1830.]  Stewart^ i  Moral  Philosophy.  245 

lectual  powers  have  no  concern  whatever  in  the  regulation  of 
our  own  conduct,  or  the  formation  of  our  opinions  upon  that 
of  others.  This  system,  although,  as  must  be  obvious  to  the 
reader,  it  wDl  hardly  bear  the  test  even  of  a  distinct  and  naked 
statement  of  its  leading  principle,  obtained,  nevertheless^  by 
virtue,  probably,  in  part,  of  its  apparently  excellent  practical 
tendency,  great  favor  in  England,  and  has  been  ever  since  its 
publication  pretty  generally  adopted  by  those  who  are  not  par- 
tisans of  the  UtiHtarian  school.  Mr.  Stewart  himself  admits  it 
so  far  as  to  allow  that  our  perceptions  of  right  and  wrong  are  ac- 
companied respectively  by  agreeable  or  disagreeable  emotions. 

'  It  appears  to  me/  says  he,  *  that  the  diversity  of  these  sys- 
tems has  arisen  in  a  great  measure  from  the  partial  views,  which 
different  writers  have  taken  of  the  same  complicated  subject ; 
that  these  systems  are  by  no  means  so  exclusive  of  each  other  as 
has  commonly  been  imagined,  and  that,  in  order  to  arrive  at  the 
truth,  it  is  necessary  for  us,  instead  of  attaching  ourselves  to  any 
one,  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  lights  that  all  have  furnishied.  Our 
moral  perceptions  and  emotions  are  in  fact  the  result  of  different 
principles  combined  together.  They  involve  a  judgment  of  the 
understanding,  and  they  involve  also  a  feeling  of  the  heart :  and 
it  is  only  by  attending  to  both  that  we  can  fc^m  a  just  notion  of 
our  moral  constitution.  In  C9nfirmation  of  this  remark  it  will 
be  necessary  for  us  to  analyse  particularly  the  state  of  our  minds 
when  we  are  spectators  of  any  good  or  ba^  action  performed  by 
another  person,  or  when  we  reflect  on  the  actions  performed  by 
ourselves.  On  such  occasions  we  are  conscious  of  three  differ- 
ent things. 

*  1.  The  perception  of  an  action  as  right  or  wrong. 

'  2.  The  emotion  of  pleasure  or  pain  varying  in  its  degree  ac- 
cording to  the  acuteness  of  our  moral  sensibility. 

*  3.  A  perception  of  the  merit  or  demerit  of  the  agent.' 

On  the  theory  of  Hutcheson  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
Perception  of  right  and  wrong,  or  merit  and  demerit,  in  the 
cognisance  we  take  of  moral  distinctions,  and  the  Internal 
Serwe,  by  which  we  experience  an  agreeable  or  disagreeable 
emotion,  is  the  only  faculty  brought  into  exercise  on  the  occa- 
sion. This  entire  exclusion  of  the  Understanding  from  any 
agency  in  the  formation  of  our  ideas  on  this  subject  is  of 
itself,  as  we  intimated  above,  a  sufficient,  though  indirect  ob- 
jection to  the  tlieory.  It  is  also  liable  to  another  of  a  more 
direct  and  peremptory  kind.  If  we  possessed  a  distinct  inter- 
nal sense  through  which  we  experienced  agreeable  or  disagree- 


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246  Stewards  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

able  emotions,  according  to  the  moral  qualities  of  the  actions 
under  consideration,,  these  emotions  being  excited  by  the  same 
quality,  however  they  might  differ  in  degree,  must  always  be 
of  the  same  kind.  We  are  certain,  for  example,  that  piety 
and  prudence  are  duties  as  well  as  charity ;  and  on  this  sup- 
position the  emotions  excited  in  our  minds  by  the  performance 
of  these  several  classes  of  duties  would  be  exacdy  the  same. 
As  the  impressions  made  upon  the  mind  through  the  sense  of 
hearing  must  necessarily  all  belong  to  the  class  of  sounds,  and 
through  the  sight  to  that  of  colors,  so  the  impressions  made 
through  the  moral  sense,  if  we  have  one,  though  differing  in 
intensity,  must  all  be  of  a  uniform  character.  Now  it  is  gen- 
erally conceded — and  this,  as  we  have  already  had  occasion  to 
state,  is  the  principal  argument  against  the  selfish  system — 
that  the  emotions  excited  by  the  performance  of  the  different 
classes  of  duties  are  essentially  various,  not  only  in  degree  but 
in  kind.  We  are  all  conscious  that  the  feelings  with  which  we 
contemplate  an  act  of  prudence,  an  act  of  charity,  and  an  act 
of  piety,  are  not  the  same.  In  the  first  instance,  we  expe- 
rience a  sentiment  of  quiet  approbation ;  in  tbe  second,  a 
glowing  and  delightful  sympathy;  in  the  last,  a  reverential 
awe.  It  is  obvious  that  the  theory,  which  attributes  all  these 
results  to  operations  of  one  and  the  same  sense,  must  be  erro- 
neous. We  find  accordingly  that  Hutcheson,  in  order  to  re- 
concile his  system  with  fact,  is  obliged  to  deny  the  character  of 
virtue  to  all  actions  excepting  those  which  proceed  from  benevo- 
lent feeling.  With  him  temperance,  prudence,  and  piety  are 
matters  of  indifference,  and  there  is  nothmg  wortJiy  of  moral 
approbation  but  charity.  This  error,  though  more  agreeable, 
is  not  less  evident  than  that  of  the  partisans  of  the  selfish  sys- 
tem. Like  them,  in  accounting  for  our  moral  sentiments,  he 
throws  out  of  view  all  but  one  of  the  three  great  classes  of 
which  they  are  composed.  No  system  is,  of  course,  admissi- 
ble, which  does  not  funiish  a  complete  and  equally  satisfactory 
explanation  of  them  all. 

It  appears,  therefore,  that  the  two  opinions,  which  have  pre- 
vailed most  generally  in  modern  times,  among  those  persons, 
who  admit  the  reality  of  moral  distinctions,  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  faculty  by  which  we  acquire  our  knowledge  of  them,  both 
of  which  are  received  in  connexion  by  Stewart,  although  they 
have  been  before  supposed  to  exclude  each  other,  are  both  erro- 
neous statements  of  the  real  facts  in  the  case.   The  truth  seems 


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1830.]  Siemrt^s  Moral  Philosophy.  247 

to  be,  that  reason  and  feeling  are  both  concerned  in  the  cogni- 
sance we  take  of  moral  distinctions,  not,  however,  by  the  ex- 
ercise of  any  specific  faculty  belonging  to  either  of  these 
departments  of  our  nature,  but  in  the  usual  discharge  of  their 
regular  and  ordinary  functions.  The  agreeable  emotions 
connected  with  the  performance  of  acts  of,  duty  are  not*  the 
product  of  a  separate  moral  sense,  but  comprehend  all  tlie 
different  kinds  of  satisfaction  which  we  derive  respectively 
from  the  exercise  of  the  selfish,  social,  and  religious  principles 
of  our  nature.  These  principles  or  inclinations  lead  us  direct- 
ly to  the  performance  of  the  several  sorts  of  actions,  which 
correspond  with  them,  not  as  acts  of  duty,  but  as  acts  in 
which  we  take  a  natural  delight.  When  the  Understanding 
comes  to  consider  and  classify  these  acts  it  recognises  them  as 
results  df  the  relations  which  naturally  connect  us  witli  God, 
our  fellow-men,  and  the  objects  around  us.  These  relations 
taken  together  compose  what  is  called  the  Law  of  JVature,  and 
our  actions,  when  viewed  as  conformable  to  these  relations,  are 
described  as  acts  of  duty y  performed  in  obedience  to  the  Law 
ofJSTeUure,  that  is,  in  other  words,  to  the  Will  of  God, 

III.  The  characteristic  of  Virtue,  is,  therefore,  obedience  to 
the  Law  of  Nature,  that  is,  the  will  of  God  ;  the  distinction  be- 
tween Right  and  Wrong  lies  in  conformity  or  nonconformity 
to  this  great  rule.  This,  however,  is  not  the  theory  of  Stew- 
art and  Cudworth,  who  both  affirm,  that  the  nature  of  this  dis- 
tinction is  wholly  inexplicable.  We  all,  according  to  them, 
know  perfectly  well  what  we  mean  by  the  terms  Right  and 
Wrong,  but  are  nevertheless  incapable  of  giving  any  explanation 
of  them.  Our  notions  of  right  and  wrong  are  incapable  of 
analysis.  They  are  simple  ideas  or  notions,  of  which  the  names 
do  not  admit  of  definition.  '  We  can  define  the  words  Right  and 
Wrong  only  by  synonymous  words  or  phrases,  or  by  die  pro- 
perties and  necessary  concomitants  of  what  they  denote.  Thus 
we  may  say  of  the  word  right,  that  it  expresses  what  we  ought 
to  do,  what  IS  fair  and  honest,  what  is  approvable,  what  every 
man  professes  to  be  the  rule  of  his  conduct,  what  aU  men 
praise,  and  what  is  in  itself  laudable,  though  no  man  praise 
it.  In  such  definitions  and  explanations,  it  is  evident  that  we 
only  substitute  a  synonymous  expression  instead  of  the  word 
defined,  or  we  characterise  the  quality,  which  the  word  de- 
notes by  some  circumstance,  connected  with  it  or  resulting 
from  it,  as  a  consequence  ;   and,  therefore,  we  may  with  con« 


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24S  Stewart's  Mard  PkUa»€phy.  [July, 

fidence  conclude,  that  the  word  io  question  expresses  a  sim^ 
pie  idea.'  '  The  various  duties  which  have  been  considered, 
all  agree  with  each  other  in  one  common  quality,  that  of  be- 
ing obligatory  on  rational  and  voluntary  agents,  and  they  are 
all  enjoined  by  the  same  authority — the  authority  of  conscience. 
These  duties,  therefore,  are  but  different  articles  of  one  Zaw, 
which  is  properly  expressed  by  the  word  virtue.' 

Thus,  in  the  opinion  of  our  author,  we  know  nothing  of  the 
nature  of  the  qualities  of  actions  which  we  call  rights  or,  in  a 
word,  of  the  nature  of  virtue,  excepting  that  it  is  the  subject  of 
the  approbation  of  the  internal  principle  which  we  call  consdenee. 

The  modes  of  expression,  employed  by  our  author  on  this 
subject,  are  repugnant,  we  think,  to  the  common  sense  and 
feeling  of  mankind.  It  is  no  doubt  true,  that  in  general,  when 
we  speak  of  the  moral  qualities  of  actions,  we  mean  nodiing 
more  than  that  they  awaken  within  us  certain  feelings  of  appro- 
bation or  disapprobation,  whichj  in  the  theory  of  our  author, 
are  the  results  of  the  action  of  certain  specific  faculties,  but 
which  we  regard  as  the  exercise  of  our  ordinary  natural  senti- 
ments and  affections.  These  were  givea  us  by  Providence, 
as  guides  to  regulate  our  conduct,  and  with  the  masB  of  man- 
kind, who  have  but  littie  capacity  for  abstract  reasoning,  they 
are  the  only  natural  ones.  But  when  we  mean  to  employ  a 
strict  and  scientific  language,  it  appears  extremely  singular,  to 
say  tliat  tlie  Understanding  has  no  share  in  the  formation  of 
our  notions  of  moral  qualities;  and  to  maintain  with  Stewart 
and  Cudworth,  that  the  Understanding  supplies  us  with  ideas 
which  we  do  not  understand,  is,  in  our  judgment,  nothing 
less  than  a  contradiction  in  terms.  We  have  stated  above,  that 
&D.  our  view  of  the  subject  the  terms  Right  and  Wrong  are 
susceptible  of  a  very  simple,  distinct,  and  satisfactory  expla- 
nation, and  that  the  essential  characteristic  of  Virtue,  is  Con^ 
formity  to  the  Law  of  Nature,  or — ^which  is  the  same  thing 
in  other  words — Obedience  to  ^he  WiU  of  Gvd.  This  ac- 
count of  the  matter  appears  at  first  view  diametrically  oppo- 
site to  that  of  Stewart,  but  on  further  reflection,  the  difierence 
will  be  found  to  be  rather  apparent, than  real.  The  error, 
and  it  is  no  doubt  by  far  the  most  common  one  in  all  inqui- 
ries of  this  description,  does  not  consist  so  much  in  misap- 
pehending  the  facts  as  in  giving  an  incorrect  stateineot  of 
them.  It  is  no  doubt  true,  that  in  the  first  instance  we  know 
nothing  further  of  moral  qualities  excepting  that  certain  par* 


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1830.]  Stewart's  Moral  PhUosophy.  249 

ticular  actiond  awaken  in  us  respectively  certam  feelings  of 
approbation  and  disapprobation.  Thus  far  the  whole  is  a  mat- 
ter of  feeling.  But  when  the  understanding  comes  to  classify 
and  generalise  the  particular  facts,  it  asceitains,  as  we  re- 
marked above,  that  they  are  results  of  certain  relations,  estab- 
lished by  nature  between  us  and  the  other  component  parts  of 
the  universal  system,  to  which  we  give  llie  name  of  laws,  and 
which  we  refer  to  the  will  of  the  Creator,  who  determined 
the  character  of  every  object,  and,  of  course,  the  relations 
that  exist  between  them  all.  Having  reached  this  point,  we 
can  give  a  distinct,  intelligible,  and  rational  account  of  our 
notions  of  right  and  wrong,  which  were,  in  the  first  instance, 
a  mere  matter  of  fact  and  feeling.  This  account  is  not  incon- 
sistent with  the  facts  supposed  by  Stewart,  and  is  at  variance 
with  his  chiefly  in  proceeding  one  or  two  steps  further  than 
be  did  in  the  course  of  reasoning  upon  which  he  had  entered, 
and  completing  a  defective  part  of  his  theory.  He  confined 
his  attention  to  particular  actions,  and  the  impressions  they 
make  upon  us,  without  appearing  to  recollect  that  by  classify- 
ing these  actions  in  connexion  with  the  motives  that  led  to 
them,  we  obtain  a  general  and  intelligible  notion  of  moral 
qualities,  or  in  other  words,  of  the  characteristics  of  virtue. 
The  notion  we  thus  obtain,  furnishes  an  easy  explanation  of 
the  terms  that  are  habitually  used  in  reference  to  the  subject. 
By  a  right  action  we  mean,  according  to  the  etymological  in- 
terpretation, as  well  as  popular  and  correct  understanding  of 
the  word,  using  it  in  reference  to  jthe  existing  institutiona  of 
society,  an  action  conformable  to  the  relations  established  by 
these  institutions  among  the  different  members  of  the  body 
politic— conformable,  in  a  word,  to  the  law  of  the  land.  Hence 
when  we  speak  of  actions,  as  conformable  to.  the  relations  es- 
tablished previously  to  any  human  institutions  by  the  Supreme 
Ruler  of  the  universe,  which  are  the  prototype  and  basis  of 
all  positive  law,  it  is  perfectly  natural  to  employ  the  same  term 
Rig/U  in  the  new  and  enlarged  sense  of  obedience  to  the  law 
of  nature,  that  is,  the  will  of  its  divine  author. 

The  essential  ingredient  in  the  notion  of  Right  and  Wrong — 
the  essential  characteristic  of  virtue  is,  therefore,  conformity 
to  the  law  of  nocture,  or,  in  other  words,  obedience  to  the  law 
of  God.  This  Law  of  Nature  is,  of  course,  as  such,  anterior 
to  any  human  institution,  and  independent  of  the  will  of  any 
human  sovereign.     But  is,  it  also  prior  in  the  order  of  events 

VOL.  XXXI.— NO.  68.  32 


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250  Stewarfs  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

to  the  creation  of  the  universe,  and  independent  of  the  will 
of  God  himself?  These  questions  are  answered  in  the  affir- 
mative hy  Stewart  and  Cudworth,  who  appear,  as  we  stated 
above,  to  have  borrowed  from  the  ancient  Greek  Mythology, 
the  notion  of  that  strange  and  mysterious  power,  which  the 
poets  called  destiny,  and  which  overruled  alike  the  will  of 
Gods  and  Men.  Such  at  least  is  the  construction  which  may 
naturally  enough  be  put  on  their  doctrines.  It  may  not  be  im- 
possible, as  we  shall  presently  see,  to  reconcile  this  language 
with  the  truth  of  the  case,  but  we  must,  at  all  events,  consider 
it  as  involvmg  many  extravagant  and  hazardous  forms  of  ex- 
pression, and  as  fitted  to  encourage  degrading  and  inadequate 
ideas  of  the  Divine  nature.  As  this  speculation  is  of  a  very 
high  and  curious  character,  it  may  not  be  disagreeable  to  our 
readers  to  peruse  a  few  of  the  passages  relating  to  it  in  the 
works  of  the  writers  alluded  to,  to  which  we  shall  annex  some 
brief  remarks  of  our  own. 

*  Whatsoever,'  says  Cudworth,  *  was  the  true  meaning  of 
those  philosophers,  that  afiirm  justice  and  injustice  to  be  only 
by  law,  and  not  by  nature,  certain  it  is,  that  divers  modem 
theologers  do  not  only  seriously,  but  zealously  contend  in  like 
manner,  that  there  is  nothing  absolutely,  intrinsically,  and  nat- 
urally good  and  evil,  just  and  unjust,  antecedently  to  any  posi- 
tive command  or  prohibition  of  (Jod,  but  that  the  arbitrary 
will  and  pleasure  of  God — ^that  is,  an  omnipotent  Being,  de- 
void of  all  essential  and  natural  justice — ^by  its  commands  and 

?rohibitions,  is  the  first  and  only  rule  and  measure  thereof. 
Vhence  it  follows,  unavoidably,  that  nothing  can  be  imagined 
so  grossly  wicked,  or  so  foully  unjust  or  dishonest,  but  if  it 
were  supposed  to  be  -commanded  by  this  omnipotent  Deity, 
must  needs,  upon  that  h)rpothesis,  become  holy,  just,  and 
righteous.  For,  though  the  ancient  fathers  of  the  Christian 
Church  were  very  abhorrent  from  this  doctrine,  yet  it  crept 
up  afterwards  in  the  scholastic  age,  Ockham  being  •  among  tlie 
first  that  maintained  that  there  is  no  act  evil,  but  as  it  is  pro- 
hibited by  God,  and  which  cannot  be  made  good  if  it  be  com- 
manded by  him.  And  herein  Petrus  Alliacus  and  Andreas 
de  Novo  Castro,  with  others,  quickly  followed  him. 

*  Now  the  necessary  and  unavoidable  consequences  of  this 
opinion  are  such  as  these, — ^that  to  love  (Jod  is  by  Mature  an 
indifferent  thing,  and  is  morally  good  only  because  it  is  en- 
jomed  by  his  command; — ^that  holiness  is  not  a  conformity 


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1830.]  Stewart's  Moral  Philosophy.  261 

with  the  Divine  nature  and  attributes ; — ^that  God  hath  no  nisitu- 
ral  inclination  to  the  good  of  his  creatures,  and  mi^ht  justly 
doom  an  innocent  creature  to  eternal  torment ; — all  of  which 
propositions,  with  others  of  the  kind,  are  word  for  word  as- 
serted by  some  late  authors,  though  I  think  not  fit  to  mention 
the  names  of  any  of  them  m  this  place,  excepting  only  one, 
Joannes  Sydlovius,  who,  in  a  book  published  at  Franeker^ 
hath  professedly  avowed  and  maintained  the  grossest  of  them. 
And  yet  neither  he  nor  the  rest  are  to  be  thought  any  more 
blameworthy  herein  than  many  others,  that,  holding  the  same 
premises,  have  either  dissembled  or  disowned  those  conclu- 
sions which  unavoidably  follow  therefrom,  but  rather  to  be 
commended  for  their  openness,  simplicity,  and  ingenuity,  in 
representing  their  opinion  naked  to  the  world,  such  as  indeed 
it  is,  without  any  veil  or  mask.' 

The  opinions  here  expressed  by  Cudworth,  are  approved 
and  adopted  by  Stewart  in  the  following  passage. 

*In  the  passage,  which  was  formerly  quoted  fi-om  Dr.  Cud- 
worth,  mention  is  made  of  various  authors,  particularly  among 
the  theologians  of  the  scholastic  ages,  who.  were  led  to  call  in 
question  the  immutability  of  moral  distinctions  by  the  pious 
design  of  magnifying  the  perfections  of  the  Deity.  I  am  sorry 
to  observe,  that  these  notions  are  not  as  yet  coippletely  ex- 
ploded ;  and  that,  in  our  own  age,  they  have  misled  the  specu- 
lations of  some  writers  of  considerable  genius,  particularly  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  Soame  Jenyns,  and  Dr.  Paley.  Such  authors  certainly 
do  not  recollect,  that  what  they  add  to  the  divine  power  and 
majesty,  they  take  away  from  his  moral  attributes  ;  for  if  moral 
distinctions  be  not  immutable  and  eternal,  it  is  absurd  to  speak 
of  the  Goodness  or  of  the  Justice  of  God. 

*  "  Whoever  thinks,"  says  Shaftesbury,  "  that  there  is  a  God, 
and  pretends  formally  to  believe  that  he  is  just  and  good,  must 
suppose,  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  Justice  and  Injustice, 
Truth  and  Falsehood,  Right  and  Wrong ;  according  to  which 
eternal  and  immutable  standards,  he  pronounces  that  God  is  just, 
righteous,  and  true.  If  the  mere  will,  decree,  or  law  of  God, 
be  said  absolutely  to  constitute  Right  and  Wrong,  then  are 
these  latter  words  of  no  signification  at  all." 

*  In  justice,  indeed,  to  one  of  the  writers  above  mentioned, 
(Dr.  Paley,)  it  is  proper  for  me  to  observe,  that  the  objection  just 
now  stated  has  not  escaped  his  attention,  and  that  he  has  even 
attempted  an  answer  to  it ;  but  it  is  an  answer  in  which  he  ad- 
mits the  justness  of  the  inference  which  we  have  drawn  from  his 
premises ;  or,  in  other  words,  admits,  that  to  speak  of  the  moral 


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262  Stewards  Mdral  Philosophy,  [Jufyj 

attributes  of  God,  or  to  say  that  he  is  Just^  Righteous,  and  True, 
is  to  employ  words  which  are  altogether  nugatory  and  unmean- 
ing. That  I  may  not  be  accused .  of  misinterpreting  the  doc- 
trine of  this  ingenious  writer,  who  on  many  accounts  deserves 
the  popularity  he  enjoys,  I  shall  quote  his  own  statement  of  his 
opinion  on  this  subject.* 

*  "  Since  moral  obligation  depends,  as  we  have  seen,  upon  the 
will  of  God,  Right,  which  is  co-relative  to  it,  must  depend  upon 
the  same.  Right,  therefore,  signifies  consistency  with  the  will  of 
God,  But  if  the  divine  will  determine  the  distinction  of  right  and 
wrong,  what  else  is  it  but  an  identical  proposition  to  say  of  God 
that  he  acts  right  ?  Or  how  is  it  possible  even  to  conceive  that  he 
should  act  wrong  1  Yet  these  assertions  are  intelligible  and  sig- 
nificant. The  case  is  this.  By  virtue  of  the  two  principles,  that 
God  wills  the  happiness  of  his  creatures,  and  that  the  will  of  God 
is  the  measure  of  right  and  wrong,  we  arrive  at  certain  conclu- 
sions, which  conclusions  become  rules;  and  we  soon  learn  to 
pronounce  actions  right  and  wrong,  according  as  they  agree  or 
disagree  with  our  rules,  without  looking  farther ;  and  when  the 
habit  is  once  established  of  stopping  at  the  rules,  we  can  go  back 
and  compare  with  these  rules,  even  the  divine  conduct  itself, 
and  yet  it  may  be  true,  (only  not  observed  by  us  at  the  time,) 
that  the  rules  themselves  are  deduced  from  the  divine  will." 

*  To  this  very  extraordinary  passage,  {some  parts  of  which,  I 
confess,  I  do  not  completely  comprehend,  but  which  plainly  gives 
up  the  Moral  Attributes  of  God,  as  a  form  of  words  that  conveys 
no  meaning)  I  have  no  particular  answer  to  offer.  That  it  was 
written  with  the  purest  intentions,  and  from  the  complete  con- 
viction of  the  author's  own  mind,  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  from 
the  general  scope  of  his  book,  as  well  as  from  the  strong  tes- 
timony of  the  first  names  in  England  in  favor  of  the  worth 
of  the  writer ;  but  it  leads  to  consequences  of  the  most 
alarming  nature,  coinciding  in  every  material  respect  with  the 
systems  of  those  scholastic  theologians,  whom  Dr.  Cudworth 
classes  with  the  Epicurean  philosophers  of  old,  and  whose  er- 
rors that  great  and  excellent  writer  has  refuted  with  so  splen- 
did a  display  of  learning,  and  such  irresistible  force  of  argu- 
ment.' 

There  is  a  slight  mixture  of  truth  in  these  remarks  of  Cud- 
worth  and  Stewart,  which  serves  to  give  them  b  some  parts 
an  air  of  probability,  and  by  the  aid  of  which,  and  a  little 
charitable  construction,  they  might  perhaps  be  reconciled  with 
facts ;  but  they  are  fitted,  we  think,  on  the  whole,  to  convey  a 
most  erroneous  notion  of  the  subject.  These  writers  agree  in 
the  opinion  we  have  expressed  above,  that  moral  distinctions 


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1830.]  Stewart's  Mord  Phthsophy.  253 

are  founded  in  a  law  of  nature  anterior  to,  and  independent  of 
any  positive  institution ;  or,  in  other  words,  in  the  relations 
existing  among  the  various  orders  of  intelh'gent  and  moral 
beings.  They  also  admit,  that  the  universe  owes  its  existence 
to  the  power  and  will  of  God  ;  and  the  question  is,  whether 
the  relations  between  the  different  persons  and  objects  com- 
posing the  universe  be,  or  be  not  an  effect  of  the  will  of  the 
Creator  who  formed  the  whole.  If  the  Power  that  governs 
the  universal  system  think  proper  to  create  the  sun  with  a  diam- 
eter of  about  eight  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  miles,  and  the 
earth  with  one  of  about  eight  thousand,  is  it,  or  is  it  not  an  effect 
of  his  will,  that  the  sun  is  larger  than  the  earth  ?  Common  sense 
replies  of  course  in  the  affirmative.  Mr.  Stewart  and  Cud- 
worth  niaintain  the  negative.  The  supposition  being  made, 
say  they,  that  the  sun  and  the  earth  are  created  with  the  di- 
ameters which  they  now  respectively  possess,  it  follows,  of 
necessity^  that  the  sun  must  be  larger  than  the  earth,  and  the 
will  of  God  himself  cannot  prevent  it.  There  is,  as  we  re- 
marked above,  some  appearance  of  plausibility  in  this  idea, 
which,  however,  disappears  when  we  recollect,  that  the  two 
propositions  are  only  different  expressions  of  the  same  facts. 
To  say  that  the  sun  is  larger  than  the  earth,  is  only  saying  in 
more  general  terms,  that  they  are  respectively  of  such  and  such 
diameters,  and  as  the  will  of  God  is  admitted  to  be  the  reason 
why  tliey  are  of  such  and  such  diameters,  it  is  also,  of  course, 
the  reason  why  one  of  them  is  larger  than  the  other. 

The  case  is  the  same  with  the  moral  relations  between  in- 
telligent and  rational  beings.  Is  it,  or  is  it  not  an  effect  of  the 
will  of  God,  that  it  is  the  duty  of  parents  to  love  their  children, 
and  of  children  to  love  their  parents,  that  it  is  the  duty  of  us 
all,  not  to  sacrifice  the  happiness  of  other  men  to  the  gratifica- 
tion of  our  own  animal  appetites  ?  Here  too,  Stewart  and  Cud- 
worth  maintain  the  negative.  '  For  my  own  part,'  says  Stew- 
art, *  I  can  as  easily  conceive  a  rational  being  so  formed,  as  to 
believe  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  to  be  equal  to  one  right 
angle,  as  to  believe,  that  if  he  had  it  in  his  power,  it  would 
be  right  to  sacrifice  the  happiness  of  other  men  to  the  gratifi- 
cation of  his  own  animal  appetites ;  or  that  there  would  be  no 
injustice  in  depriving  an  industrious  old  man  of  the  fruits  of  his 
own  laborious  acquisitions.  The  exercise  of  our  reason  in 
the  two  cases  is  very  different ;  but,  in  both  cases,  we  have  a 
perception  of  truths  and  are  impressed  with  an  irresistible  con- 


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354  Stewarfs  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

viotion,  that  the  truth  is  immutable  and  independent  of  the  vnll 
of  any  being  whatever.^  Here  again,  there  is  an  appearance 
of  plausibility,  which  disappears  as  before,  when  we  recollect, 
that  the  only  fact  affirmed  in  the  proposition  here  supposed  to 
be  a  necessary  truth,  is  one  which  is  admitted  to  be  an  im- 
mediate effect  of  the  will  of  God.  To  say  that  parents  are 
bound  in  duty  by  the  law  of  nature  to  love  their  children,  that 
we  are  all  bound  in  duty  by  the  law  of  natiure  to  relieve  dis- 
tress, as  in  the  cases  here  supposed  by  Stewart,  is  only 
saying,  in  other  words,  that  there  is  a  principle  of  love  im- 
planted by  nature  in  the  heart  of  ^very  individual  man,  which 
displays  itself  under  various  forms,  according  to  the  particular 
situation  and  circumstances  in  which  it  operates.  But  the  ex- 
istence of  this  principle  within  us  is  admitted  by  all  to  be  an 
effect  of  the  will  of  God ;  and  the  fact,  that  we  are  bound  in 
duty  to  love  our  neighbor,  which  is  only  another  mode  of  ex- 
pressing the  same  thing,  must,  of  course,  be  referred  to  the 
same  cause. 

The  intelligent  reader  will  readily  perceive,  that  there  is  the 
same  fallacy  in  the  mathematical  illustration  employed  by 
Stewart  in  the  above  extract,  as  in  the  principal  argument 
which  it  was  brought  to  illustrate.  The  question  whether  it 
be  an  effect  of  the  will  of  God,  that  the  three  angles  of  a 
triangle  are  not  equal  to  one  right  angle,  is  precisely  par- 
allel to  the  one  before  stated,  whether  it  be  an  effect  of  the 
will  of  God  that  the  sun  is  larger  than  the  earth.  It  is  admit- 
ted to  be  an  effect  of  the  will  of  God,  that  a  given  figure  has 
three  sides  and  not  two  or  four,  and  to  say  that  the  three 
angles  formed  by  these  three  sides  are  not  equal  to  a  right 
angle,  is  only  stating  under  a  different- point  of  view,  the  same 
fact,  which  must  of  course  be  attributed  to  the  same  cause. 
In  short,  the  propositions  which  express  relations,  whether 
physical  or  moral,  are  only  statements  in  a  more  general  form 
of  the  existence  and  qualities  of  individual  objects.  These 
are  regarded  by  all  as  creations  of  the  divine  will,  which  con- 
sequently determines  the  relations  between  them.  To  affirm 
that  the  same  power  which  determined  that  Saturn  should 
have  seven  satellites,  and  Herschel  only  five,  did  not  deter- 
mine that  Saturn  should  have  more  satellites  than  Herschel,  is 
plainly  contradictory,  to  common  sense;  and  when  we  find 
philosophers  of  high  and  deserved  reputation  maintaining  this 
assertion,  we  naturally  conjecture  that  they  are  influenced  by 


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1830.]  Stewart^s  Moral  Philosophy.  .         265 

some  accidental  motive  entirely  foreign  to  the  merits  of  the 
question. 

The  nature  of  the  motive  that  operated  in  this  instance  upon  • 
the  minds  of  Stewart  and  Cudworth,  is  apparent  from  the 
tenor  of  the  passages  quoted  above.     They  were  apprehen- 
sive, that  if  we  consider  moral  distinctions  as  '  results  of  the 
will  of  God,'  we  shall  be  obliged  to  witlidraw  from  our  ideas 
of  the  divine  nature,  the  moral  attributes  which  we  generally 
consider  as  belonging  to  it.     '  Such  authors  certainly  do  not 
recollect,'    says  Stewart,  'that  what  they  add  to  the  divine 
power  and  majesty,  they  take  away  from  his  moral  attributes  j 
for  if  moral  distinctions  be  not  immutable  and  eternal,  it  is 
absurd  to  speak  of  the  goodness  or  of  the  justice  of  God.' 
*  If  we  suppose,'  says  Cudworth,  *  that  the  arbitrary  will  and 
pleasure  of  God — ^that  is,  an  omnipotent  Being,  devoid  of  all 
essential  and  immutable  justice — ^by  its  commands  and  prohibi- 
tions is  the  first  and  only  rule  and  measure  of  right  and  wrong, 
it  would  follow  unavoidably,  that  nothing  could  be  imagined  so 
grossly  wicked  or  so  foully  unjust  or  dishonest,  but  if  it  were 
supposed  to  be  commanded  by  this  omnipotent  Deity,  must 
needs  upon  that  hypothesis  become  holy,  just,  and  righteous.' 
'Whoever  thinks,'  says  Shaftesbury,  'that  there  is  a  God, 
and  pretends  firmly  to  believe  that  he  is  just  and  good,  must 
suppose  that  there  Is  independently  such  a  thing  as  Jtistice  and 
Injustice,  Truth  and  Falsehood,  Right  and  Wrong,  according 
to  which  eternal  and  immutable  standards,  he  pronounces  that 
God  IS  just,  righteous,  and  true.     If  the  mere  will,  decree,  or 
law  of  God  be  said  absolutely  to  constitute  right  and  wrong, 
then  are  these  latter  words  of  no  signification  at  all.'     In  all 
this  there  is  much  confusion  of  ideas,  which  obviously  results 
firom  the  implied  supposition,  that  the  moral  attributes  of  God, 
if  real,  must  be  of  the  same  nature  with  ours.     But  is  it  possi- 
ble that  either  of  these  writers  can  have  imagined,  or  that  any 
person  oif  sound  mind  can  for  a  moment  imagine,  that  God  is 
just  and  good  in  thfe  sense  which  we  attach  to  these  terms, 
when  we  apply  them  to  ourselves  ?  It  would  surely  be  the 
height  of  absurdity,  as  well  as  irreverence,  to  conceive  of  the 
Divine  Being  as  involved  in  the  sphere  of  our  ordinary  family 
and  social  relations ;  yet  the  terms  Good  and  Just,  as  we  apply 
them  to  ourselves,  are  merely  generalisations  of  the  more  par- 
ticular qualifications  of  a  good  father,  a  good  husband,  a  good 
neighbor,  friend,  and  citizen.     Do  we  then  deny  the  reality  of 


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256  SteuHirfs  Moral  Philosophy*  [July, 

the  moral  attributes  of  God,  because  we  dp  not  believe  that 
they  operate  under  the  modes  which  belong  to  our  limited  and 
transitory  sphere  of  action  ?    Surely  not.     Do  we  deny  the 
existence  of  God,  when  we  say  tliat  the  manner  of  it  is  entirely 
different  from  that  of  ours  ?    Do  we  deny  the  intelligence  of 
God  when  w^  affirm  that  '  his  ways  are  not  as  our  ways,  nor 
bis  thoughts  as  our  thoughts  ?'  Why  then  should  we  be  thought 
to  impeach  the  goodness  and  justice  of  God  by  supposing  them 
to  be  manifested  under  forms  entirely  foreign  to  the  law  of  our 
nature  ?    We  believe,  and  tlie  opinion  is  authorized  by  scrip- 
ture, that  our  intellectual  and  moral  part,  '  the  God  within  the 
mind,'  is  in  some  faint  and  imperfect  degree  an  image  of  the 
Sublime  Intelligence,  tiiat  created  and  governs  the  Universe* 
In  attempting  to  form  an  idea  of  the  attributes  of  this  '  High 
and  Holy  One,'  we  suppose  the  wisdom,  power,  and  goodness 
that  constitute   the  best  qualities  of  our  own  better  nature, 
elevated  to  an  infinitely  higher  pitch  than  that  in  which  we 
possess  them,  and  combined  in  perfect  harmony  without  any 
mixture  of  earthly  alloy.     The  mode  of  existence  and  action 
that  belongs  to  such  a  being  is  entirely  above  our  compre- 
hension.     We  know  that  it  must  be  wholly  different  from 
ours,  but  in  affirming  that  the  law  of  our  nature  is  an  effect  of 
the  will  and  not  a  rule  for  the  conduct  of  God,  we  make  no 
approach  to  a  denial  of  his  attributes,  intellectual  or  moral* 
We  may  surely  imagine  a  principle  of  Intelligence,  that  is  ex- 
ercised without  the  intervention  of  our  material  senses, — a  prin- 
ciple of  Love  that  displays  itself  in  oth^ -forms  than  those 
which  result  from  our  social  relations, — :as  easily  as  a  principle 
of  Being  independent  of  the  laws  of  our  existence,  independent 
of  the  limits  of  time  and  space,  inhabiting  at  once  the  myste- 
rious mansions  of  eternity,  and  the  secret  recesses  of  the  hum- 
ble and  contrite  heart.     On  the  other  hand,  how  degrading  is 
the  notion  that  this  mighty  and  mysterious  Being  is  himself 
bound  down  by  a  law  superior  to,  and  independent  of  his  own 
power  and  will !    Instead  of  being  the  law-giver  of  the  Uni'- 
verse,  God,  in  this  theory,  is  only  the  first  subject  of  some 
more  elevated  principle,  that  prescribes  a  rule  for  his  actions, 
enforced,  no  doubt,  in  the  usual  way,  by  appropriate  rewards 
and  punishments.     But  who  shall  undertake  to  judge  whether 
God,  in  establishing  the  law  of  nature,  has  obeyed  the  higher  and 
immutable  law,  which  Destiny  imposes  on  him  ?   This  office, 
on  the  theory  we  are  considering,  devolves  on  man.     '  Who- 


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1830.]  Stetoart's  Moral  Philosophy.  257 

ever  thinks  that  there  is  a  God,'  says  Shaftesbury  in  the  pas* 
sage  above  quoted,  *  and  pretends  formally  to  believe  that  he 
is  just  and  good^  must  suppose  that  there  is  independently  such 
a  thing  as  Justice  and  Injustice^  Truih  and  Falsehood^  Right 
and  Wrongs  according  to  which  eternal  and  immutable  stand- 
ards HE  pronounces  that  God  is  jtist^  righteous^  and  true.^ 
Man,  therefore,  is  the  appointed  arbiter,  who  takes  cognisance 
of  the  actions  of  God,  compares  them,  with  the  immutable  de- 
crees of  Destiny,  (froih  what  digest  or  collection  of  reports  he 
obtains  his  knowledge  of  the  latter  does  not  so  fully  appear,)  and 
PRONOUNCES  that  it  is  or  is  not  conformable  to  them.  Man,  it 
must  be  owned  is  on  this  theory  a  pretty  important  personage ; 
being,  if  we  are  not  mistaken  in  the  order  of  precedence,  a 
degree  higher  than  Destiny  itself — to  say  nothing  of  Deity — 
since  the  Judge  is  regularly  superior  to  both  the  parties,  who 
attend  at  his  tribunal  and  await  his  decision.  One  hardly 
knows  whether  to  smile  or  tremble  at  these  irreverent  absurdi- 
ties, which  are  however  necessary  conclusions  from  the  theory 
of  Cudworth  and  Stewart.  In  comparison  with  these,  the 
strange  inconsistency  with  fact  in  the  concluding  remark  of 
Shaftesbury,  as  quoted  above,  is  hardly  worth  noticing.  '  If 
the  mere  will,  decree,  or  law  of  God  be  said  absolutely  to 
constitufl  Right  and  Wrongs  then  are  the  latter  words  of  no 
sigiyfication  at  all.'  Now  it  is  admitted  by  these  writers,  as 
we  have  already  seen,  that  on  their  system  tlie  words  Right 
and  Wrong  haye  no  meaning,  or  at  least  none  that  can  be 
stated  by  one  person  to  another.  They  are  acknowledged  not 
to  be  susceptible  of  analysis,  definition,  or  explanation.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  theory,  which  describes  them  as  indicating 
conformity  to  the  law  of  nature,  or  obedience  to  the  will  of 
God,  assigns  to  them  a  meaning,  to  our  minds  perfectly  satis- 
factory, but  which  must  appear  at  all  events  precise  and  intel- 
ligible even  to  those  who  deny  its  correctness.  The  remark 
of  Shaftesbury  is  of  course  exactly  the  reverse  of  the  truth. 

For  ourselves,  therefore,  we  would  join  without  hesitation  in 
the  sublime  interrogatory  bf  the  illustrious  Hooker,  so  often 
quoted,  and  so  little  weighed  and  understood,  which  contains 
in  a  single  line  the  quintessence  of  Philosophy  preserved  in 
the  purest  spirit  of  Poetry.  *  What  then  shall  we  say  of  law, 
but  that  its  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God, — its  voice  the  har- 
mony of  the  world  ?'  Its  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God.  God  in 
the  independent  exercise  of  his  own  high  attributes,  issued  the 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  68.  33 


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268  Stevmrfs  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

decrees  that  determined  the  existence,  form  and  qualities  of 
all  created  things,  and  fixed  in  so  domg  the  laws  that  regulate 
their  modes  of  being  and  of  action.  Its  voice  is  the  harmony 
of  the  world.  The  great  movement  of  nature,  which  proceeds 
in  obedience  to  this  transcendent  law  is  a  perpetual  publica- 
tion of  it — a  perpetual  revelation  of.  the  will  of  its  author. 
'  Day  unto  day,'  says  the  "  monarch  minstrel"  of  scripture  in 
his  unequalled  strains  of  devotion  and  poetry,  '  day  unto  day 
uttereth  speech — ^night  unto  night  showeth  forth  knowledge. 
No  sound — no  language — ^dieir  voice  is  not  heard — but  their 
meaning  goeth  forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth — ^their  sense  is 
understood  by  all  the  nations.'  Its  voice  is  the  harmony  of  the 
world.  We  obtain  the  knowledge  of  it  not  from  black-letter 
statute-books,  and  dusty  commentaries,  but  from  the  bright 
and  living  face  of  nature,  as  its  various  features  impress  die 
senses,  inform  the  understanding,  excite  the  imagination  and 
touch  the  heart.  We  inhale  it  in  the  balmy  breath  of  morn- 
ing, we  read  it  inscribed  on  characters  of  light  in  the  blue  ex- 
panse of  the  starry  firmament,  and  embroidered  in  flowers  of 
every  hue  on  the  green  mantle  of  spring.  We  hear  it  in  the 
whispers  of  the  *  sweet  South' — ^in  the  warbling  of  the  birds — 
in  the  trumpet-tones  of  the  wintry  hurricane.  We  feel  it  in 
the  secret  suggestions  of  our  own  hearts.  The  sa^s  of  the 
old  Italian  school,  in  their  lofty  allegories,  described  this  ^uni- 
versal harmony  "of  the  world  as  the  Music  of  the  Spheres^  and 
they  said  that  it  could  only  be  heard  in  the  silence  of  the  pas-- 
sions.  In  this,  too,  they  were  right.  The  secret  of  truth  and 
virtue  is  revealed  to  those  only  who  seek  with  purity  and  sin- 
gleness of  mind  to  discover  it.  When  we  yield  to  irregular 
desires,  and  disturb  the 'grand  concert  of  the  Universe  with  the 
dissonant  uproar  of  vicious  indulgence,  we  are  forthwith  pun- 
ished by  an  incapacity  to  hear  and  enjoy  it.  The  great 
book  of  nature  becomes  fcrever  after  a  sealed  volume,  and  the 
divine  law,  which  it  unfolds  to  us,  an  impenetrable  mystery. 

If,  however,  we  suppose  the  characteristic  of  virtue  to  be,  as 
we  have  described  it,  conformity  to  the  law  of  nature,  that  is, 
obedience  to  the  will  of  God,  we  may  solve  with  comparative 
facility  the  question,  which  has  frequendy  been  agitated  wheth- 
er the  natural  affections  be  in  themselves  virtuous.  This 
question,  as  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  remark,  is  de- 
cided by  Mr.  Stewart  in  the  negative,  not  only  in  reference  to 
the  selfish,  but  also  to  the  social  and  benevolent  affections. 


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1830.]  Stewart's  Moral  Philosophy.  269 

^It  is  not  my  intention/  says  he,  'to  exalt  our  natural  affec- 
tions into  virtues.  So  far  as  they  arise  from  original  constitution, 
they  confer  no  merit  whatever  on  the  individual  any  more  than 
his  appetites  and  passions. 

'  Hutcheson  seems  to  consider  virtue  as  a  quality  of  our  affeo 
tionsy  whereas  it  is  really  a  quality  of  our  actions ;  or,  perhaps, 
in  strict  propriety,  of  those  dispositions  from  which  our  actions 
immediately  proceed.  Our  benevolent  affections  are  always 
amiable,  but,  in  so  far  as  they  are  constitutional,  they  are  cer- 
tainly in  no  respect  meritorious.  Indeed  some  of  them  are  com- 
mon to  us  with  the  brutes.  When  they  are  possessed  in  an  emi- 
nent degree,  we  may  perhaps  consider  them  as  a  ground  of  moral 
esteem,  because  they  indicate  the  pains  which  have  been  bestowed 
on  their  cultivation,  and  a  course  of  active  virtue  in  which  they 
have  been  exercised  and  strengthened.  On  the  contrary,  a  per- 
son who  wants  them ,  is  always  an  object  of  horror ;  chiefly  be- 
cause we  know  that  they  are  only  to  be  eradicated  by  long  habits 
of  profligacy,  and  partly  in  consequence  of  the  uneasiness  we 
feel  when  we  see  the  ordinary  course  of  nature  violated,  as  in  a 
monstrous  animal  production.  It  is  from  these  two  facts,  that 
the  plausibility  of  Dr.  Hutcheson's  language  on  this  subject  in 
a  great  measure  arises  ;  but  if  the  facts  be  accurately  examined, 
they  will  be  found  perfectly  consistent  with  the  doctrine  already 
laid  down,  that  nothing  is  an  object  of  moral  praise  or  blame  but 
what  depends  on  our  own  voluntary  exertions ;  and  of  conse- 
quence, that  these  terms  are  not  applicable  to  our  benevolent  or 
malevolent  affections,  so  far  as  we  suppose  them  to  result  neces- 
sarily from  our  constitutional  frame. 

'  There  is  another  consideration,  too,  which,  on  a  superficial 
view,  appears  favorable  both  to  Hutcheson's  language  and  sys- 
tem, the  peculiar  and  enthusiastic  admiration  with  which  all 
mankind  regard  a  man  of  enlightened  and  active  benevolence. 
Such  a  character  draws  upon  itself  not  merely  the  applauses,  but 
the  blessings  of  the  world,  and  assimilates  human  nature  to  what 
we  conceive  of  those  ministering  angels  who  are  the  immediate 
instruments  of  the  Divine  goodness  and  mercy. 

'  In  order  to  think  with  accuracy  on  this  very  important  point 
of  morals,  it  is  necessary  to  distinguish  those  benevolent  affec- 
tions, which  urge  us  to  their  respective  objects  by  a  blind  im- 
pulse, from  that  rational  and  enlightened  benevolence,  which  in- 
terests us  in  the  happiness  of  all  mankind,  and  indeed  of  all  the 
orders  of  sensitive  beings.  This  Divine  principle  of  action  ap- 
pears but  little  in  the  bulk  of  our  species;  for  although  the  seeds 
of  it  are  sown  in  every  breast,  it  requires  long  and  careful  culti- 
vaticm  to  rear  them  to  maturity,  choked  as  they  are  by  envy,  by 


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260  StewartU  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

jealousy,  by  selfishness,  and  by  those  contracted  views,  which 
originate  in  unenlightened  schemes  of  human  policy.  Clear  away 
these  noxious  weeds,  and  the  genuine  benevolence  of  the  human 
heart  will  appear  in  all  its  beauty.  No  wonder  then  that  we 
should  regard,  with  such  peculiar  sentiments  of  veneration,  the 
character  of  one  whom  we  consider  as  the  sincere  and  unwearied 
friend  of  humanity  ;  for  such  a  character  implies  the  existence 
of  all  the  other  virtues ;  more  particularly  of  candid  and  just  dis- 
positions towards  our  fellow-'Creatures,  and  implies,  moreover,  a 
long  course  of  persevering  exertion  in  combating  prejudices  and 
in  eradicating  narrow  and  malignant  passions.  The  gratitude, 
besides,  which  all  men  feel  towards  one  in  whose  benevolent 
wishes  they  know  themselves  to  be  comprehended,  contributes  to 
enliven  the  former  sentiment  of  moral  esteem ;  and  both  together 
throw  so  peculiar  a  lustre  on  this  branch  of  duty  as  goes  far  to 
account  for  the  origin  of  those  systems,  which  represent  it  as 
the  only  direct  object  of  moral  approbation. 

'  But  what  I  am  chiefly  anxious  to  infer  at  present  from  these 
remarks  is,  that  there  is  nothing  in  this  approbation  of  a  rational 
and  enlightened  benevolence,  which  at  all  invalidates  the  doc- 
trine, that  virtue,  in  all  its  branches,  supposes  a  course  of  volun- 
tary exertion  under  the  guidance  of  a  sense  of  duty.' 

In  these  observations  on  the  moral  value  of  the  benevolent 
affections,  Mr.  Stewart*  has  been  embarrassed  and  led  into 
error  by  his  theory  of  a  distinct  and  separate  Moral  Faculty^ 
entirely  independent  of  the  usual  operations  of  the  mind  and 
heart.  There  is  obviously  a  strange  inconsistency  in  admitting 
that  we  regard  an  individual  of  a  remarkably  benevolent  char- 
acter with  Enthusiastic  Admiration^  with  Gratitude^  with 
Veneration^  with  Moral  Esteem^  and  at  the  same  time  deny- 
ing that  1|e  regard  benevolence  with  moral  approbation. 
What  diflference  can  be  made,  in  the  correct  use  of  language, 
between  Moral  Esteem  and  Moral  Approbation  ?  Gratitude, 
veneration — enthusiastic  admiration,  when  directed  towards  a 
character,  which  is  a  proper  object  of  moral  esteem,  are  only 
different  names  for  the  same  feeling  in  its  most  exalted  de- 
grees. And,  as  in  a  matter  of  feeling  Uke  this,  the  common 
sentiment  of  men  is  the  surest  and  indeed  the  only  test  of 
truth,  Mr.  Stewart,  by  this  admission,  has  recorded  a  decision 
completely  adverse  to  his  own  theory.  The  attempt  which 
he  makes  to  account  for  our  enthusiastic  admiration  of  benevo- 
lence, on  the  principle  that  this  quality  supposes  the  union  of 
justice  in  the  same  character,  is  also  very  singular.     Benevo- 


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1830.]  Stewart^s  Moral  Phiiosophy.  361 

lence  no  doubt  supposes  justice,  but  justicfe  itself  is  not  an  ob- 
ject of  admiration.  It  is  a  merely  negative  virtue,  and  consists 
in  not  inflicting  on  others  a  positive  injury.  How  can  it  be 
maintained  with  plausibility  that  we  admire  benevolence,  be- 
caxise  it  includes  justice,  when  we  do  not  admire  justice  itself 
m  its  own  acknowledged  form  ?  To  say  that  we  admire  be- 
nevolence because  it  supposes  or  includes  justice  ;  that  is,  that 
we  admire  a  benevolent  man  because  we  are  sure  that  he  does 
not  defraud  and  oppress  his  fellow-citizens,  is  much  like  saying 
that  we  admire  fine  poetry  because  we  are  sure  that  it  must  be 
written  with  a  correct  observance  of  all  the  rules  of  grammar. 
Such  are  the  inconsistencies  and  singularities  into  which  Mr. 
Stewart  has  been  led  by  his  attempt  to  deprive  benevolence  of 
the  character  of  virtue.  The  distinction  which  he  takes  in 
this  respect  between  the  actions  and  affections  is  no  doubt 
founded  m  fact,  but  is  in  no  way  inconsistent  with  the  theory 
which  considers  benevolence  as  virtuous.  Virtue,  we  know, 
is  a  quality  of  actions,  and  benevolence,  so  far  as  it  is  an  in- 
voluntary effect  of  original  constitution  or  favorable  circum- 
stance, confers  no  merit.  When  we  say  that  we  approve  and 
admire  benevolence,  we  mean  that  we  approve  and  admire  it 
as  a  motive  to  action ;  that  we  consider  actions  performed  with 
this  motive  as  virtuous  ;  that  we  regard  an  individual,  who  acts 
upon  this  motive  with  moral  approbation ;  one  who  acts 
upon  it  habitually  and  to  an  uncommon  extent,  with  enthusias- 
tic admiration.  All  this  agrees  entirely  with  the* common 
forms  of  language,  and  with  the  common  sense  and  feeling  of 
the  world.  Mr.  Stewart  is  compelled  to  refuse  his  assent  to 
it  by  his  system,  which  places  the  characteristic  of  virtue  in  a 
conformity  to  a  moral  Faculty  or  Sense  entirely  distinct  and 
separate  from  our  natural  affections.  We  have  just  seen  to 
what  difficulties  he  is  reduced  by  attempting  to  account,  con- 
sistently with  this  system,  for  acknowledged  facts.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  theory,  which  supposes  that  our  natural  senti- 
ments, and  especially  the  benevolent  affections,  are  themselves 
the  principal  elements  of  what  we  call  the  Moral  Sense  or 
Faculty  is  perfectly  consistent  with  these  facts  and  with  the 
usual  forms  of  language  employed  throughout  the  world.  It 
reconciles  philosophy  with  common  sense,  which,  although  it 
be  no  foundation  for  scientific  theories,  is  the  best  test  of  their 
correctness  and  the  best  check  upon  their  errors.  Were  there 
no  other  objection  to  the  theory  of  an  independent  Moral  FaO' 


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262  Stewart^s  Moral  Philosophy.  [July, 

vity  but  this,  that  it  "deprives  benevolence  of  the  character  of 
virtue,  we  should  feel  no  hesitation  in  rejecting  it  as  completely 
at  variance  with  the  consciousness  of  every  correct  and  uncor- 
rupted  mind. 

We  are  aware  that  authority,  however  high,  is  of  no  weight 
as  such  in  philosophical  discussion ;  but  as  Mr.  Stewart  has 
himself  resorted  to  the  Bible  for  evidence  in  support  of  some 
of  his  views  on  the  nature  of  the  Moral  Faculty,  we  may 
perhaps  be  permitted  to  appeal  to  the  same  high  arbiter  in 
favor  of  tlie  opinions  we  have  suggested  above. 

'It  is  difficult/  says  our  author,  'to  explain  the  following 
words  of  scripture  in  any  other  sense,  than  by  applying  them  to 
such  doctrines  concerning  the  factitious  origin  of  morsd  distino 
tions  as  have  now  been  under  our  review.  ''  Woe  unto  them 
that  put  evil  for  good,  and  good  for  evil ;  that  put  darkness  for 
light,  and  light  for  darkness ;  that  put  bitter  for  sweet,  and  sweet 
for  bitter." ' 

Without  intending  to  dispute  the  application  here  made  by 
Mr.  Stewart  of  this  text,  which  really  does  not  appear  to  us  to 
be  a  very  natural  one,  we  cannot  but  remark  that  it  would  be 
easy  to  point  out  passages  of  scripture  far  more  direct  and  ex- 
plicit in  favor  of  the  opinion  that  benevolence  is  a  virtue.  The 
eloquent  apostle  to  ^e  Gentiles  employs  a  whole  chapter  of 
one  of  the  Epistles  to  the  Corinthians  in  illustrating  and  de- 
veloping this  prmciple  ;  and  our  Saviour  himself  expressly  de- 
clares, that  to  *  love  our  neighbor  as  ourself '  is  one  of  the  two 
great  commandments,  which  make  up  together  the  Whole  Itaw, 
This  declaration,  although  it  has  no  logical  effect  upon  tlie  ar- 
gument, of  course  decides  the  question  for  those,  who  admit 
the  authority  of  scripture.  We  allude  to  it  here  principally 
for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  there  is  nothing  heretical,  dan- 
gerous, or  contrary  to  received  truths  in  the  theory,  which  we 
have  stated  on  the  subject. 

IV.  We  have  enlarged  so  much  on  the  preceding  head,  that 
we  have  left  ourselves  but  little  space  to  examine  the  principles 
of  our  author  in  reference  to  the  fourth  and  last  branch  of  the 
inquiry,  which  treats  of  the  nature  and  origin  of  Moral  Obliga- 
tion. His  views  respecting  these  points  are  succinctly  stated 
m  the  following  extract. 

'  According  to  some  systems,  moral  obligation  is  founded  en- 
tirely on  our  belief  that  virtue  is  enjoined  by  the  command  of 
God.     But  how,  it  may  be  asked,  does  this  belief  impose  an  ob-. 


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1830.]  Stciwart^s  Moral  Philoiophy.  263 

ligation  ?  Only  one  of  two  answers  can  be  given.  Either  that 
there  is  a  moral  fitness  that  we  should  conform  our  will  to  that 
of  the  Author  and  Governor  of  the  universe ;  or  that  a  rational 
self-love  should  induce  us,  from  motives  of  prudence,  to  study 
every  means  of  rendering  ourselves  acceptable  to  the  Almighty 
Arbiter  of  happiness  and  misery.  On  the  first  supposition  we 
reason  in  a  circle.  We  resolve  our  sense  of  moral  obligation 
into  our  sense  of  religion,  and  the  sense  of  religion  into  that  of 
moral  obligation. 

*  The  other  system,  which  makes  virtue  a  mere  matter  of  pru- 
dence, although  not  so  obviously  unsatisfactory,  leads  to  conse- 
quences, which  sufficiently  invalidate  every  argument  in  its  fa- 
vor. Among  others  it  leads  us  to  conclude,  1.  That  the  disbe- 
lief of  a  fiiture  state  absolves  from  all  moral  obligation,  except- 
ing in  so  far  as  we  iind  virtue  to  be  conducive  to  our  present  in- 
terest. 2.  That  a  being  independently  and  completely  happy 
cannot  have  any  moral  perceptions,  or  any  moral  attributes. 

*  But  farther,  the  notions  of  reward  and  punishment  presup- 
pose the  notions  of  right  and  wrong.  They  are  sanctions  of 
virtue,  or  additional  motives  to  the  practice  of  it,  but  they  sup- 
pose the  existence  of  some  previous  obligation. 

'  In  the  last  place,  if  moral  obligation  be  constituteH  by  a  re- 
gard to  our  situation  in  another  life,  how  shall  the  existence  of  a 
fiiture  state  be  proved,  or  even  rendered  probable  by  the  light  of 
nature  ?  or  how  shall  we  discover  what  conduct  is  acceptable  to 
the  Deity?  The  truth  is,  that  the  strongest  presumption  for 
such  a  state  is  deduced  from  our  natural  notions  of  right  and 
wrong ;  of  merit  and  demerit ;  and  from  a  comparison  between 
these  and  the  general  course  of  human  affairs. 

*  It  is  absurd,  therefore,  to  ask  why  we  are  bound  to  practise 
virtue.  The  very  notion  of  virtue  implies  the  notion  of  obliga- 
tion. Every  being,  who  is  conscious  of  the  distinction  of  right 
and  wrong,  carries  about  with  him  a  law,  which  he  is  bound  to 
observe,  notwithstanding  he  may  be  in  total  ignorance  of  a  fiiture 
state.' 

We  agree  with  oar  author  that  the  idea  of  obligation  is  im- 
plied in  that  of  virtue,  but  we  are  not  quite  sure  that  the  con- 
nexion between  them  would  be  quite  so  clear  as  he  imagines  it  to 
be  if  we  admit  his  own  definition  of  the  latter  term.  Virtue,  as 
the  reader  will  recoDect,  is,  on  the  system  of  Mr.  Stewart,  a  con- 
duct conformable  to  the  dictates  of  conscience,  and  conscience 
is  an  internal  monitor,  wholly  independent  of  the  intellectual 
powers  and  natural  affections,  which  serve  to  determine  and 
regulate  our  conduct.     This  monitor  approves  a  certain  action 


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364  Stewards  Moral  PUhmphy.  [July, 

or  line  of  conduct ;  but  why  am  I,  therefore,  bound  to  perform 
or  pursue  it  ?  The  question  really  does  not  seem  to  us  so  ab- 
surd, nor  the  answer  so  clear,  as  Mr,  Stewart  appears  to  sup- 
pose. There  is  also,  in  our  opinion,  an  obvious  inconsistency 
in  stating  that  the  idea  of  obligation  is  implied  in  that  of  right, 
after  having  previously  declared  the  latter  to  be  entirely  simple 
and  not  susceptible  of  explanation  or  analysis.  An  idea, 
which  implies  or  includes  another,  is  of  course  complex  and 
susceptible  of  being  analysed  into  at  least  two*  But  consider- 
ing virtue,  as  we  have  explained  it  to  be,  a  line  of  conduct 
conformable  to  the  Law  of  Nature,  the  connexion,  or  rather 
identity,  of  the  two  ideas  is  undoubtedly  obvious.  Obligation 
is  the  name  we  give  to  the  necessity,  which  an  individual  is 
under  of  accommodating  his  conduct  to  the  laws  to  which  he 
is  subject ;  and  by  moral  obligation  we  mean  the  necessity  of 
this  kind,  which  resuks  from  a  Law  of  Nature,  as  contradis- 
tinguished from  the  positive  institutions  of  society.  Such  is 
the  etymological  and  usual  signification  of  the  terms.  To  say, 
therefore,  that  virtue  consists  in  a  conduct  conformable  to  the 
law  of  our  nature,  and  that  we  are  under  a  moral  obligation  to 
practise  virtue,  is  only  saying  the  same  thing  in  different  words. 
Should  the  question  be  asked,  why  we  are  bound  to  obey  this 
Law  of  Nature,  the. answer  is  plain.  The  Law  of  Nature  is 
the  form  of  our  existence  and  action — the  mode  in  which  we 
live  and  move  and  have  our  being.  It  remains  the  same 
whether  we  will  or  not,  and  we  are  obliged  to  obey  it^  that  is, 
we  must  submit  to  its  operation  in  one  shape  or  another,  be- 
cause every  being  must  of  necessity  exist  and  act  according  to 
the  principles  of  its  constitution,  and  not  in  any  other  way. 
By  the  effect  of  one  of  these  principles  of  our  constitution, 
which  is  the  freedom  of  the  will,  we  are  able  to  vary  in 
some  degree  the  manner  in  which  we  are  affected  by  some  of 
the  other  principles,  and  to  determine  whether  their  influence 
upon  us  shall  be  productive  of  pleasure  or  pam,  satisfaction  or 
remorse,  happiness  or  misery ;  but  in  either  event  we  are 
equally  subject  to  the  action  of  the  law,  from  which  no  effi>rt  or 
accident  can  ever  enable  us  to  escape. 

The  idea  of  obligation  is,  therefore,  undoubtedly  imjdied  in 
that  of  virtue,  if  we  mtend  by  the  latter  term  what  it  properly 
means,  a  conduct  conformable  to  the  Law  of  Nature.  But 
this  Law  of  Nature  is  itself  a  mere  expression  of  the  will  of 
God,  which  is,  therefore,  the  real  and  ultimate  principle  of 


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1830i]  St&u>g,re$  Moral  PkUosophy.  265 

moral  obligation.  God,  by  creating  the  universe  in  a  certain 
form,  and  by  mdntainmg  it  in  the  same  when  it  could  not 
continue  to  exist  for  a  single  moment  without  his  intervention, 
declared,  and  is  constantly  declaring,  his  will,  that  the  several 
bemgs,  of  aU  orders  and  classes,  that  compose  the  universe, 
shdll  exist  and  act  in  a  certain  way,  that  is,  according  to  the 
prbciples  of  the  constitution  which  he  has  respectively  given 
them.  If,  then,  the  question  be  asked,  why  this  or  that  being 
is  bound  to  exist,  or  act  in  a  particular  form — why  the  planets 
are  subject  to  the  law  of  gravity,  and  men  to  that  of  moral  ob- 
ligation— ^the  true  and  only  answer  is,  that  such  is  the  will  of 
God.  If  we  push  the  inquiry  still  further,  and  ask,  why  we 
are  bound  to  obey  the  will  of  God,  the  answer  is,  that  the 
necessity,  physical  and  moral,  of  obeying  his  will,  is  implied  in 
the  fact  of  our  existence  and  of  our  relation  to  him  as  our 
Creator  and  Preserver.  In  this  there  is  no  reasoning  in  a  cir- 
cle. We  do  not  say,  as  Mr.  Stewart  intimates,  that  we  are 
bound  to  obey  the  will  of  God  because  there  is  a  moral  *  fit- 
ness' in  so  doing — ^that  is,  because  in  so  doing  we  should  act 
in  conformity  to  that  higher  rule  of  right  which  he  supposes  to 
exist  independently  of  the  power  and  will  of  God  himself, 
and  which,  as  we  have  shown  already,  is  a  vain  and  baseless 
fiction.  Necessity  and  not  fitness  is  the  sense  conveyed  by  the 
term  obligation.  We  are  obliged  to  obey  the  will  of  God  be- 
cause we  cannot  avoid  it — ^because  his  will  is  the  principle  of 
our  existence  and  the  law  of  our  nature.  We  must  exist  and 
act  in  the  way  that  he  has  prescribed  for  us  in  all  our  relations, 
physical  and  moral,  and.  we  cannot  exist  and  act,  or  even 
conceive  the  possibility  of  existing  and  acting  in  a  different 
one.  Within  die  sphere  of  activity,  that  belongs  to  our  nature, 
there. is,  no  doubt,  a  certain  latitude  allowed  to  individuals  by 
the  freedom  of  the  will,  but  even  in  the  exercise  of  this  free- 
dom they  are,  as  we  remarked  above,  subject  to  the  same  di- 
vine laijv,  and  have  no  choice  but  that  of  submitting  to  its  ope- 
ration in  one  way  or  another. 

Mr.  Stewart  could  not  take  this  view  of  the  subject  because 
he  unfortunately  failed  to  perceive  fliat  the  will  of  God  was 
the  real  source  of  the  moral  law  of  nature.  In  attempting  to 
trace  the  latter  to  a  mysterious  and  imaginary  cause,  inde- 
pendent of,  and  superior  to  the  great  Creatmg  Principle  of  the 
universe,  he  not  only  proposed  to  himself  an  obviously  imprac- 
ticable object,  but  vitiated  the  foundation  of  his  whole  theory 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  68.  34 


Digitized  by'VjOOQlC 


266  Steward i  Moral  Philosophy,  [July, 

of  ethics.  By  adopting  this  system,  he  was  compelled  to  dis- 
solve the  natural  connexion  between  Virtue  and  Religion,  thus 
depriving  the  former  of  its  only  sure  basis,  and  the  latter  of  its 
chief  practical  value.  Our  leading  purpose  in  the  remarb 
which  we  have  now  made  has  been — ^as  far  as  depended  on 
our  feeble  efforts — to  restore  this  union,  on  which,  as  we  con- 
ceive the  subject,  depends  entirely  the  harmony  of  nature  and 
the  happiness  of  man.  We  are  aware  that  ^e  limits  of  an 
article  like  this,  even  in  the  extended  form  which  we  have 
been  obliged  to  give  to  it,  are  wholly  inadequate  to  a  full  and 
satisfactory  developement  of  these  momentous  truths.  We 
may,  perhaps,  avail  ourselves  of  some  future  occasion  to 
resume  the  subject,  and  treat  certain  parts  of  it  in  greater  de- 
tail. In  the  mean  time,  however,  we  indulge  the  hope  that 
the  hints  we  have  thrown  out — ^should  they  meet  the  appro- 
bation of  competent  judges — ^may  excite  others  to  reflection, 
and  thus  produce,  mdirectly,  results  more  valuable  than  any 
which  we  could  expect  to  draw  from  them  ourselves. 

It  will  be  seen  at  once,  from  the  tone  and  spirit  of  our  re- 
marks, that  in  contesting  some  of  the  leading  principles  of  JVIr. 
Stewart,  it  has  not  been  our  intention  to  depreciate  hb  reputa- 
tion, or  diminish  the  general  respect  for  his  talents  and  char- 
acter. We  consider  the  tendency  of  his  vinritings  as  eminently 
favorable  to  the  great  cause  of  truth  and  virtue,  and  can  there- 
fore recommend  them  with  perfect  confidence  to  the  perusal 
of  our  readers.  They  are  admirably  fitted  by  their  eloquent 
and  attractive  style,  to  inspire  a  taste  for  the  high  and  interest- 
ing sciences  which  form  their  subject ;  nor  are  they  the  less 
valuable  for  this  purpose,  because  the  opinions  of  the  author 
are  not  to  be  received  hi  every  point  with  implicit  credit. 
While  the  beauty  of  the  language  and  illustrations  induces  us 
to  read,  the  questionable  character  of  some  of  the  principles 
induces  us  to  thmk,  and  we  thus  obtain  a  double  advantage ; 
since  it  is  only  by  learning  to  thmk  for  ourselves,  and  exer- 
cising this  power,  that  we  can  really  turn  to  any  useful  ac- 
count our  study  of  the  thoughts  of  others.  While  we  part 
with  regret  firom  a  writer,  whose  name  has  never  been  men- 
tioned among  us  for  many  years  past  without  being  accompa- 
nied by  expressions  of  respect  and  gratitude,  we  rejoice  that 
so  much  of  the  rich  fruit  of  his  fine  taste  and  understanding 
will  survive  him  in  his  works.  We  flatter  ourselves  that  the 
stock  will  be  increased  by  a  judicious  selection  jrora  his  un- 


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1830.]  Griesbach^s  JVew  Testament.  267 

published  manuscripts,  and  shall  embrace,  with  great  delight, 
any  future  opportunity  that  may  be  offered  us  of  again  bestow- 
ing the  feeble  tribute  of  our  applause  upon  the  labors  of  one 
who  will  ever  be  remembered  and  admired  as  an  eloquent 
writer,  a  powerful  thinker,  a  wise,  learned,  amiable,  and  good 
man. 


Art.  XL — Th^JVew  Testament  in  the  Common  Version^ 
Conformed  to  GrieshaclCs  Standard  Greek  Text.  Bos- 
ton.    Gray  &  Bowen.    1830. 

In  our  fifteenth  volume,  we  gave  some  account  of  the  lead- 
ing editions  of  the  Greek  New  Testament,  adding  our  favor- 
able testimony  to  what  has  been  contributed  from  all  quarters, 
to  the  work  of  Dr.  Griesbach  ;  a  critic,  who, — in  the  circum- 
stance that  the  principal  emendations  which  he  introduced, 
were  thought  not  of  a  character  to  support  his  own  theological 
system, — ^had  a  peculiar  advantage  for  recommending  his 
judgment  to  general  confidence,  and  its  results  to  an  impartial 
estimation.  We  had  occasion  to  remark,  that  what  has  hither- 
to borne  the  name  of  the  Received  Edition,  was  an  anony- 
mous compilation  from  previous  impressions,  themselves  mainly 
derived  from  two  sources;  viz.  the  Greek  Testament  of  the 
Complutensian  Polyglot,  prepared  from  manuscripts  not  now 
known,  but  which  all  the  evidence,  accessible  on  the  subject, 
ascertains  to  have  been  modern  and  of  little  authority ;  and 
that  of  Erasmus,  who  possessed  but  four  manuscripts,  besides 
the  text  presented  in  a  commentary  by  a  father  of  the  elev- 
enth century.  Of  these  manuscripts,  one  only  was  of  the 
whole  New  Testament ;  the  other  three  were  respectively  of 
the  Gospels,  of  the  Acts  and  Epistles,  and  of  the  Apoca- 
lypse. Of  the  first  of  these,  which  was  ancient,  dating  per- 
haps fi-om  the  tenth  century,  little  use  appears  to  have  been 
made.  The  third,  and  especially  the  second,  were  modern, 
and  of  little  critical  worth.  The  fourth  is  now  lost ;  it  was  so 
imperfect,  that  Erasmus  was  forced  to  supply  chasms — in  one 
instance  to  the  extent  of  six  verses — ^by  his  own  translation 
from  the  Latin  Vulgate. .  In  less  than  nine  months  from  the 
time  when  his  work  was  undertaken,  it  had  passed  thtough  the 
press,  along  with  notes,  and  a  Latin  translation  of  the  whole, 
the  editor  also  giving  meanwhile  a  great  part  of  his  atten- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


268  GriesbacKs  Acw  Testament.  [July, 

tion  to  another  publication.  It  was,  of  course  ^  despatched,' 
as  he  himself  says,  '  rather  than  edited.'  And  to  add  to  the 
enumeration  of  his  infelicities,  the  copy  was  not  given  to  the 
public  as  he  had  prepared  it,  but  was  marred  by  ignorant  correct- 
ors of  the  press,  who  also  left  typographical  errors,  which  have 
been  repeated  in  all  reprints  of  die  Received  Edition  to  this  day. 

Between  the  time  of  the  Received  Edition  and  that  of 
Griesbach's  great  work,  several  hundreds  of  manuscripts  of  the 
New  Testament — and  among  them  those  of  the  highest  an- 
tiquity known  to  be  extant — ^had  been  carefully  examined,  and 
their  testimony  recorded.  From  this  source, — ^from  the  an- 
cient versions,  indicating  what  the  Greek  text  was  at  the  time 
when  they  were  made,— and  from  quotations  by  early  writers 
of  the  church,  one  of  whom,  it  has  been  said,  Origen,  would 
alone  furnish  an  almost  complete  copy  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment,— ^materials  for  a  revision  were  brought  together,  amount- 
ing to  not  less  than  a  hundred  and  thirty  thousand  various 
readings.  The  rules  of  judging  between  discordant  authorities 
had  also  received  much  attention,  and,  in  leading  particulars, 
had  assumed  the  fixed  character  of  a  science.  In  digest- 
ing these  abundant  materials,  and  ascertainmg  the  results 
of  a  comparison  according  to  these  rules,  the  editor  of  what 
now  claims  the  authority  of  the  standard  copy  of  the  writings 
of  the  New  Testament,  employed  the  patient  study  of  more 
than  thirty  years. 

With  the  opmion  which  -we  so  long  ago  expressed  of  his 
work,  we  were,  of  course,  gratified  to  find  it  made  accessible 
to  English  readers,  in  the  volume  of  which  we  have  given  the 
title  above.  We  have  been  struck  with  a  remark  in  one  of 
th^  periodicals  of  the  day,  that  *  Dr.  Knapp's  Testament  is  now 
admitted  by  German  scholars,  liberal  as  well  as  orthodox, 
to  be  superior  to  Griesbach's,'  and  *  is  the  most  highly  es- 
teemed, and  most  generally  used  in  GermMiy.'  In  the 
comparison  thus  instituted,  we  apprehend  that  there  has  been 
some  mistake.  In  preparing  Griesbach's  text  of  the  New 
Testament,  the  authorities,  antecedent  to  the  art  of  printing, 
were  weighed  for  every  word,  and  thus  the  text  of  the  Re- 
ceived Edition  was  amended,  as  often  as  there  was  found 
a  clear  preponderance  of  evidence  for  such  correction.  The 
manual  edition  of  this  author  is  a  critical  edition,  in  a  proper 
sense  of  that  phrase ; — ^since,  though  not  containing  the  full 
referencef  of  the  larger  work,  which,  for  distinction's  sake. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  CfriesbacVs  New  Testament.  269 

goes  by  that  name,  it  exhibits  in  the  text  aU  the  restora- 
tions there  ascertamed,  and,  in  the  margin,  all  tlie  other 
important  results  of  the  exammations  tliere  denoted. — ^The 
edition  of  George  Chrisdan  Knapp,  first  published  in  1797, 
and  since  at  d^rent  times  and  with  some  improvements 
till  1829,  is  a  cheap  book  for  schools.  So  far  firom  coming, 
or  bemg  intended  to  come  into  competition  with  the  work 
of  Griesbach,  the  editor  is  at  pains,  in  his  Prolegomena^ 
to  have  it  understood,  that  he  is  a  disciple  of  Griesbach 
in  the  only  questionable  particular  of  that  critic's  views,  the 
systematic  classification  of  authorities ;  and,  moreover,  that  he 
does  not  undertake  such  a  labor  as  that  of  a  new  edition,  nova 
recensiOi — ^which  that  of  Griesbach,  strictly  speaking,  is, — ^but 
only  the  humbler  task  of  a  new  revisal,  a  re-exammation,  nova 
recognition  Recensuit  Chiesbachius,  and  recognovit  Knappius^ 
are  the  respective  appropriate  designations  of  the  title  pages. 

This  distinction  is  treated  in  the  Prolegomena  to  his  Homer, 
by  Wolf.  The  labor  of  a  recognition^  he  says,  is  praisewor- 
thy; *  whoever,  the  most  partially  furnished  with  the  best 
helps,  exhibits  an  author's  text  corrected,  whether  by  the  ap- 
plication of  his  own  sagacity,  or  in  the  use  of  a  few  authori- 
ties, though  he  should  hardly  remove  thirty  errors,  and  leave 
a  hundred  untouched,  has  undeniably  rendered  a  good  ser- 
vice to  letters.'  And  this  is  the  kind  of  work,  he  contmues, 
which  most  critics  have  been  content  ivith  doing.  '  Few  are 
so  pains-taking,  as  fi-om  recondite  and  separate  sources,  espe- 
cially from  ancient  copies,  to  brmg  together  every  variety  of 
reading,  and  then,  instituting  a  comparison  with  die  readings 
commonly  received,  to  undertake  a  thorough  emendation.' 
*  There  is  a  great  diflference  between  this  superficial  and  de- 
sultory labor,  and  that  of  an  exact  and  complete  revisal,  con- 
ducted according  to  settled  rules.  In  the  former,  more  is 
scarcely  aimed  at,  than  to  remove  blemishes,  which  are  cur- 
rently admitted,  or  exhibited  in  some  copies ;  passing  over 
many  readings,  which,  while  as  to  sense  they  may  be  approved 
or  tolerated,  have,  in  pomt  of  authority,  no  pretensions.  An 
exact  recension^  on  the  other  hand,  availing  itself  of  all  useful 
materials,  searches  throughout  for  what  the  writer's  hand  set 
down,  and  interrogates  in  turn  the  testimonies  for  every  single 
reading,  and  not  for  those  only,  which  may  excite  suspicion.' 

The  inferior  work  of  the  two  kinds  here  distmguished  is 
what  Knapp,  with  great  particularity,  announces  to  have  been 


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270  Griesbach^s  JSTew  Testament  ^uly, 

the  aim  of  his  own  enterprise.  *  I  have  promised,  not  a  new 
recensiouj  but  a  recognition  of  the  text.'*  The  obvious  objec- 
tion to  this  procedure  is,  that  a  critic  is  not  obliged  by  the  na- 
ture of  his  engagement,  to  consult  all  accessible  authorities, 
nor  is  he  held  to  any  strict  rules  of  judgment  between  them. 
By  the  terms  of  his  modest  pretension,  he  is  free  to  attend  to 
a.  part  of  the  evidence,  instead  of  tlie  whole,  and  to  follow  un- 
defined preferences  of  his  own,  in  the  weight,  which  he  as- 
cribes to  that  part  to  which  he  does  attend.  In  the  critical 
edition  of  Griesbach,  the  reader  may  see,  against  every  ques- 
tionable word,  a  schedule  of  the  authorities  upon  which  the 
text  preferred  is  determined  to  be  what  proceeded  from  the 
sacred  writers,  so  that  he  has  the  means  of  reviewing  the  crit- 
ic's decisions,  and  of  reversing  them  if  he  see  cause.  The 
revised  copy  of  Knapp  furnishes  no  means  of  discerning  how 
extensive  was  the  search,  or  what  the  principles,  which  brought 
him  to  hb  conclusions.  A  partial  remedy  for  this  defect 
would  have  been  found  in  a  precise  statement  of  how  far  it 
was  that  the  editor  proposed  to  go  towards  a  restoration  of  the 
text.  But  this  he  has  failed  to  furnish.  He  says  only,  in 
general  terms,  that  he  has  in  view  such  as  *  demand  a  text 
more  pure  than  the  received  text  of  the  Elzevirs,  which  pub- 
lishers have  too  long  sent  abroad.'  'If  readers  should  find 
themselves  but  a  little  aided  by  his  labors,  he  will  have  accom- 
plished what  he  wished.'  '  It  is  his  purpose  to  present  a  legit- 
imcUe  selection  of  the  most  approved  readings,  extracted  fi^om 
a  text  of  that  conformation,  which  would  bear' the  precise 
character  of  a  new  recension.'  *  He  has  approached  re- 
luctantly and  reverently  the  step  of  removing  a  received  read- 
ing from  its  place.'  '  He  has  often  passed  over  the  less  im- 
portant readings,  especially  where  he  conceived  them  to  contain 
nothing  to  disturb  a  reader,  or  to  afiect  the  writer's  sense.  He 
has  often  purposely  passed  by  what  appeared  to  require  some 
correction,  when  either  the  correction  demanded  was  not  ob- 
vious, or  was  of  a  questionable  character.  In  other  places, 
even  where  there  were  reasons  dictating  a  change,  still  tne  ne- 
cessity not  being  sufiiciently  indubitable,  he  had  preferred  to 
retain  the  popular  reading,  and  apply  a  gentler  cure  by  a 
change  of  punctuation.' 

It  is  plain  enough  that  all  this  is  mexact  and  unsatisfactory. 
To  be  deaf  to  testimony  for  the  pure,  out  of  deference  to  the 

*  Commentatio  Isagogica,  p.  19. 


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1830.]  Grieshach's  Jfew  Testament.  271 

corrupt,  while  it  may  wear  a  show  of  caution,  is,  in  such  a 
case,  the  loosest  and  most  assuming  rashness.     The  language 
of  the  preface  throughout  leads  the  reader  to  anticipate  a  sort  of 
halting  compromise  between  critical  accuracy,  which  had  made 
its  clauns  heard,  and  a  lingering  popular  attachment  to  some 
vitiated  passages,  which  have  now,  with  a  remarkable  unanim- 
ity of  sects,  been  condemned,  as  not  entitled  to  a  place  in 
scripture.  Or  it  may  be  explained  from  the  circumstances  of  the 
time,  when  the  growing  enumerittion  of  various  readings  had 
created  alarm  in  not  a  few  serious  mmds ;  before  it  had  come  to 
be  understood,  with  what  astonishing  strength  these  discoveries 
establish  the  invaluable  truth  of  the  substantial  identity  of  the 
numerous  copies,  in  all  their  representations  of  matters  of 
faith  and  duty.     However  this  may  be,  the  editor  is  constantly 
betraying  his  apprehension,  that,  in  doing  the  little,  which  he 
proposed  to  do,  he  should  provoke  the  censure  of  the  unin- 
formed.    '  If,'  says  he,  '  this  labor,  modestly  and  circumspecdy 
directed  to  a  correction  of  the  text,  should  give  offence  to  un- 
learned or  mistrustful  men,  my  defence  is  at  hand ; '  a  de- 
fence consisting  in  the  universal  acknowledgment  of  the  cor- 
rupt character  of  the  Elzevir  edition.     *  May  we  not  dep^,' 
he  proceeds,  '  from  that  text,  and  adopt  a  better,  possessing 
so  many  helps  towards  doing  this  successfully  ?  *     *  We  may 
well  be  surprised,  that  a  manual  for  learners  has  not  been 
provided,  more  correct  than  that  in  use,  at  least  free  from  those 
blots,  which  aU  who  will  open  their  eyes  on  the  case  admit 
should  be  removed.*     'Who  would  endure   the  man,   who, 
after  the  editions  of  Gronovius,  Graevius,  and  Ernesti,  should 
reprint  the  text  of  Cicero  from  the  Aldine  edition,  or  that  of 
Gruter,  pretending  that  that  was  good  enough  for  the  ignorance 
of  tyros  ? '     By  palpable  errors,  which  he  thus  clearly,  how- 
ever timidly,  exposes,  we  might  expect  that  he  would  not  suf- 
fer himself  to  be  overawed.     Yet  we  find  him,  soon  after,  ex- 
pressly allowing,  as  to  punctuation,  often   a  most  important 
part  of  the  critic's  task,  that,  *  except  where  he  had  reached 
absolute  satisfaction,  he  had  not  presumed  to   interpose   his 
judgment,  in  respect  to  places,  which  interpreters  have  long 
discussed,  preferring  to  retain  the  common  pointing,  though 
not  entirely  meeting  his  approbation,  provided  it  did  not  com- 
pletely overthrow  the  sense.'     Words,  which,  in  his  own  view, 
were  unquestionably  spurious, — ^unquestionably  from  some  in- 
terpolating hand, — ^he  still  retains  in  the  text,  enclosing  them 


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272  Grietbach's  New  Testament.  [July, 

only  in  double  brackets ;  and  even  the  mark  of  less  positive 
discredit  has  not  been  added  to  any  word,  *  except  on  the 
authority  of  abundant  witnesses/  Sometimes,  as  in  John,  viii. 
1-1  ] ,  when  he  has  marked  a  passage  as  most  unquestiona- 
bly forged,  he  is  even  careful  to  say  that  he  has  not  done  this 
on  account  of  discrediting  the  narration,  but  because  he  is 
persuaded  of  its  not  having  been  penned  by  the  apostle.  And 
finally  he  gives,  at  the  close  of  his  preface,  a  full  profession  of 
his  adherence  to  generally  received  doctrines  of  theology,  lest 
any  should  suppose,  tliat,  in  his  labors  of  textual  emendation, 
he  has  been  wanting  in  devotedness  to  them. 

What  state  it  was  of  opinion,  or  of  the  book-market,  in 
Germany,  which  called  for  such  a  work,  we  cannot  presume 
to  say.  It  was  first  published  eight  years  before  the  manual 
edition  of  Griesbach.  Had  the  latter  been  in  existence,  the 
former  would  very  probably  never  have  appeared*  In  the 
preface  to  his  second  impression.  Dr.  Knapp  says,  that  when 
the  first  was  issued,  there  was  a  demand  for  a  Testament,  ex- 
hibiting a  more  correct  text  than  the  received,  and  such  as, 
while  it  should  be  printed  on  fair  types,  should  be  of  conve- 
nient size  and  small  price.  Having,  from  this  cause,  naturally 
acquired  possession  of  the  market,  it  would  as  naturally,  more 
or  less,  retain  possession.  It  was  bought  at  first  because  there 
was  nothing  to  compete  with  it,  and  copies  were  subsequently 
rauhiplied  because,  from  use,  they  would  sell.  How  wide  has 
in  fact  been  its  currency,  we  have  no  sufficient  means  of  ascer- 
taining. In  the  English  works  by  divines  of  different  classes, 
which  are  full  of  the  praises  of  Griesbach,  we  do  not  remem- 
ber to  have  met  with  any  mention  of  Knapp.  De  Wette,  in 
his  Lehrbuch  der  historisch-kritischen  Einleitungj  merely  gives 
the  title  of  his  work,  along  with  other  manuals,  in  a  short  list 
appended  to  some  remarks  on  Griesbach,  in  which  he  calls 
the  latter's  publication  an  indispensable  manual  for  critics. 
Schott,  in  his  first  edition  of  the  Greek  Testament  with  a  Latin 
version  in  1805,  in  stating  that  the  convenience  of  his  publish- 
er required  him  to  follow  the  first  and  inferior  edition  of  Gries- 
bach, instead  of  waiting  for  the  second  to  be  completed,  makes 
no  mention  of  Knapp  whatever,  though  he  had  published  eight 
years  before.  In  his  second  edition  in  1811,  Schott  adopted 
the  improved  text  of  Griesbach,  passing  over  in  the  same 
silence  the  labors  of  the  other.  Vater^  in  his  Greek  manual 
'  edition  with  a  concbe  commentary,  published  in  1824,  though 


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1830.]  GriesbacVs  JVew  TestametU.  273 

he  names  Knapp  in  his  title  page,  does  not  speak  of  him  in 
his  preface  or  appendix, — in  both  which  the  labors  of  Gries- 
bach,  as  '  the  prince  of  critics,'  are  abundantly  extolled, — ex- 
cept in  a  single  clause,  where  he  notices  the  carefully  selected 
list  of  conjectural  emendations  subjoined   by  Knapp  to  his 
work.     In  Eichhom's  Bibliothek  der  biilischen  lAteratur^  a 
notice  of  a  page's  length  is  devoted  to  Knapp,  in  the  volume 
for  1799,  the  second  year  after  his  New  Testament  appeared. 
It  is  praised  for  its  cheapness,  for  the  judicious  arrangement 
of  the  pages,  and  the  correctness  of  its  typography.     The  re- 
viewer also  hints  at  the  apologetic  strain  of  the  preface,  and 
expresses  his  hope  that  the  peculiarly  scrupulous  character  of 
the  criticism  will  dispel  all  readers'  apprehensions.     In  Fuhr- 
mann's  Handbuch  der  theologischen  Literatur^   (1819)   is  a 
short  notice  of  the  second  edition,  as  one  of  '  two  commenda- 
ble manuals.'     The  strain  of  this  critique  is  substantially  the 
same  with  that  of  Eichhom's  Bibliothek.     The  character  of 
the  text,  as  the  fruit  of '  a  recognition  merely,  not  a  recension^^ 
is  specified  ;  and  this  work  of  recognition  is  remarked  to  have 
been  executed  '  with  a  solicitous  scrupulosity,  yea,  a  shyness.' 
*  Knapp,'  says  the  reviewer,  '  retains  words  in  the  text,  which 
in  justice  should  have  been  entirely  omitted.'    '  Palpable  inter- 
polations should  by  no  means,  (even  though  enclosed)  have 
been  received  into  the^  text.'     '  The  Compiler  has  proceeded 
with  a  somewhat  too  anxious  squeamishness.'     We  may  add, 
that  in  a  notice  of  Griesbach's  great  work,  in  the  same  volume, 
consisting  of  unqualified  praise,  the  editor  sums  up  his  remarks 
by  saying,  *  Germany  may  be  proud  of  this  edition.     No  crit- 
ical edition  of  the  New  Testament  compares  with  this  in  pu- 
rity and  value,  in  the  evidence  which  it  exhibits  of  its  own 
correctness  even  in  minor  particulars,  and  in  the  mdefatigable 
diligence  of  the  editor.' 

At  the  hazard,  or  the  cost,  of  being  tedious,  we  have  been 
thus  precise  and  copious  in  citing  authorities,  because,  when 
the  question,  which  chances  to  be  presented,  is  not  upon  the 
merit,  but  upon  the  standing  of  a  work,  the  citation  of  authori- 
ties is  the  only  course  towards  a  determination ;  because,  in  a 
matter  of  critical  inquiry,  it  is  the  authority  of  the  lear^pd 
which  must  unavoidably  decide  the  general  opinion ;  and  be- 
cause, in  such  an  examination  of  evidence  for  particular  refor- 
mations of  the  text,  as  would  be  essential  in  discussing  the 
merits  of  an  edition,  we  might  seem  to  be  keeping  scarcely  re- 

voL.  XXXI. — NO.  68.  35 


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274  QrieAadfs  New  Testament.  [July 

mote  enough  from  the  region  of  controversial  theology.  We 
have  only  farther  to  say,  in  general,  that  nothing  of  the  con- 
tinental writers  has  fallen  in  our  way,  inconsistent  with  tbe 
aU  but  unanimously  declared  sense  of  die  learned  in  the  parent 
country,  in  and  out  of  the  church,  in  favor  of  the  prepondera'^ 
ting  claim  of  the  edition  of  Griesbach  to  the  character  of  die 
standard  of  the  New  Testament  collection.  Bishop  Marsh,  in 
his  translation  of  Michaelis,  may  have  spoken  this  opini<Mi  more 
fully,  but  he  has  scarcely  spoken  it  more  decidedly  than  almost 
every  other  Episcopal  scholar  of  any  considerable  name  5  and, 
not  to  specify  other  dissenting  writers,  the  Eclectic  Review^ 
the  great  organ  of  English  orthodox  dissent,  besides  bearing 
its  testimony  more  recently  in  repeated  instances  to  the  same 
point,  gave,  in  its  fifth  volume,  an  elaborate  article,  the  «um 
of  which  is  expressed  in  the  following  extracts.  *  The  Gr^edE 
text  of  Griesbach's  last  edition  has  a  just  title  above  every 
other  yet  published,  to  be  received  as  a  standard  text.'  *  We 
hazard  nothing  in  saying,  that  the  venerable  professor  has 
achieved  that  honorable  and  necessary  work,  which  has  been 
for  ages  wanted,  of  liberating  the  sacred  text  of  the  New 
Testament  from  unauthorized  intrusions  and  alteraticms ;  and 
that  he  has  exhibited  it  in  a  state  so  nearly  approaching  to 
its  original  and  native  form,  as  to  exclude  all  probable  ex- 
pectation of  any  material  improvement  from  future  coUaticms 
and  critical  labors.' 

*  It  is  highly  desirable,'  the  same  writer  very  judiciously 
adds,  '  that  die  fruits  of  sacred  criticism,  produced  by  the  ar- 
duous toils  of  illustrious  scholars  through  so  lone  a  course  of 
years,  should  be  laid  open  to  universal  use.  For  this  pur- 
pose a  revision  of  the  established  translation,  transfusing  into 
it  the  increased  purity  of  the  original  text,  would  be  the  most 
obvious,  easy,  and  generaUy  acceptable  method.'  Precisely 
this  has  been  the  design  of  the  work  which  has  afforded  occa- 
sion to  these  remarks,  and  we  do  not  wish  to  conceal  our 
gratification  that  a  work  so  desired  has  been  attempted  among 
ourselves.  The  editor  of  the  New  Testament,  in  the  Com- 
mon Version,  conformed  to  Griesbach's  Standard  Greek  Text, 
desires,  in  his  preface,  to  be  *  understood  not  to  have  at- 
tempted any  such  work  as  that  of  a  revised  translation  of  the 
New  Testament.  He  has  exacdy  reprinted  die  Common 
Version,  except  in  places  where  the  Greek  text,  from  which 
that  version  was  made,  is  now  understood  to  have  been  feulty. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  QrieshacKa  JVew  Testament.  276 

In  other  words,  he  has  aimed  to  present  the  Common  Version 
precbely  such  as  it  would  have  been,  if  the  translators  could 
have  had  access  to  the  standard  text  of  Griesbach,  instead  of 
the  adulterated  text  of  Beza.  In  the  translations  which  he 
has  introduced  to  correspond  to  the  amended  Greek,  it  has 
been  his  careful  endeavor  to  imitate  the  style  of  the  Received 
Version,  and  no  one  has  been  admitted  without  study  and 
consideration.'  Of  the  accomplishment  of  this  plan,  we  shall 
say  no  more,  than  that  such  examination  as  we  have  made 
has  detected  no  departure  from  the  principles  on  which  the 
editor  professes  to  have  proceeded,  and  that  the  exactness 
and  finish  of  the  typographical  execution  are  worthy  of  un- 
common praise. 


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HISTORY. 

Questions  and  Supplement  to  Goodrich's  History  of  the  United  States. 
By  the  Rev.  Joseph  Emerson.  Boston.  Richardson,  Lord,  &  Hol- 
brook. 

An  Historical  Memoir  of  the  Colony  of  New  Plymouth.  Vol.  1. 
Part  1.  From  1620  to  1641.  By  Francis  Baylies.  Boston.  Hilliard, 
Ghiy,  &  Co.    8vo. 


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378  J>few  PubHcatimu.  [J%» 

LAW. 

Beportfl  of  CaB69  ar^iied  and  determiiied  in  the  Court  of  Chanceiy  of 
the  State  of  New  Yoi  By  Alooao  C.  Paige.  VoL  1.  New  YotM. 
Gould  &  Banks.    8yo. 

A  Treatise  on  the  Law  of  Fixtures,  and  other  Property,  partaking 
both  of  a  real  and  personal  nature.  By  A.  AnK>8,  and  J.  Ferard,  Esqr?. 
First  American  Edition,  with  Notes  and  References  to  American  Au- 
thorities.   New  York.    Gould  &  Banks.    8vo.    pp.  342. 

Reports  of  Cases  argued  and  determined  in  the  Supreme  Judicial 
Court  of  Massachusetts.  By  Octavius  Pickering.  Vol.  7.  No.  2. 
Boston.    Hilliard,  Gray,  &  Co.    8vo. 

Reports  of  Cases  urg;ued  and  determined  in  the  Supreme  Court,  and 
in  the  Court  for  the  Trial  of  Impeachments  and  the  Correction  of  Er- 
rors of  the  State  of  New  York.  By  Esek  Cowen.  VoL  9.  Albany^ 
William  Gould  &  Co.    8vo. 

Case  of  the  Proprietors  of  Charles  River  Bridge  against  the  Proprie- 
tors of  Warren  Bridge,  argued  and  determined  in  the  Supreme  Judicial 
Court  of  Massachusetts.  Reported  by  Octavius  Pickering.  Bdston. 
Hilliard,  Gray,  &  Co.    8vo.    pp.  203. 

Commentaries  on  American  Law.  By  James  Kent.  Vol.  4.  New 
York.    O.  Halsted.    8vo. 

A  Digested  Index  to  the  Decisions  of  the  Superior  Courts  of  the 
State  of  New  Jersey.  By  William  Halsted,  Esq*  Trenton.  Justice. 
Svo.    pp.392. 

MEDICINE. 

An  Essay  on  the  Remittent  and  Intermittent  Diseases,  including 
ffenerically  Marsh  Fever  and  Neuralgia.  By  John  Maccullocb,  M.  U, 
&c.    Philadelphia.    Carey  &  Lea.    Svo.    pp.  470. 

A  Treatise  upon  the  Semeiology  of  the  Eye,  for  the  Use  of  Physi- 
cians and  of  the  Countenance,  for  Criminal  Jurisprudence.  By  J.  F.  0. 
Lobstein,  M.  D.    New  York.    C.  S.  Francis.    8vo.    pp.  175. 

The  Veterinary  Surgeon ;  or  Farriery  taught  on  a  New  and  Easy 
Plan.  By  John  Hinds.  With  considerable  Additions  and  Improve- 
ments, particularly  adapted  to  this  Country.  By  Thomas  M.  smith* 
Philadelphia.    J.  Grigg.    12mo.    pp.  284. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

The  Diplomatic  Correspondence  of  the  American  Revolution.  Being 
the  Letters  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  Silas  Deane,  John  Adams,  John  Ja]^, 
Arthur  Lee,  William  Lee,  Ralph  Izard,  Francis  Dana,  William  Carmi- 
chael,  Henry  Laurens,  John  Laurens,  M.  Dumas,  and  others,  concen>- 
ing  the  Foreign  Relations  of  the  United  States  during  the  whole  Revo- 
lution, together  with  the  Letters  in  Reply  from  the  Secret  Committee 
of  Congress  and  the  Secretarv  of  Foreign  Affairs.  Also,  the  entire 
Correspondence  of  the  French  Ministers,  Gerard  and  Luzerne,  with 
Congress*  Edited  by  Jared  Sparks.  In  5  vols.  Boston.  Gray  & 
Bowen.    8vo. 

An  Essay  on  Alcoholic  and  Narcotic  Substances,  as  Articles  of  com* 
mon  Use.  By  Edward  Hitchcock.  Amherst  J.  S.  &  C.  Adams  &  Co. 
12mo. 

A  Narrative  of  the  Captivity  and  Adventures  of  John  Tanner,  dnriag 


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1830.]  JVm  PublteaitMi.  379 

Tbirty  Tean'  Reaifenee  among  the  {ndiana  in  t]ie  loterior  <xf  North 
Aaerica.  Prefiared  fer  ^e  Paess  by  £dwin  Jaxneai  M.  D.  New  Yorib 
a.  &  C.  &  H.  OurvilL    8vo.    pp.  426. 

Moral  and  Religious  Gleanings ;  or  Interesting  Stories :  compiled 
from  various  AutMra.  By  ThomBa  Latimer.  Phikdelphia,  W.  Sturely, 
ISsio,    pp.  196. 

Prize  Essay.  An  Essay  on  the  Wages  paid  to  Femalea  for  &eir 
Labor ;  in  the  form  of  a  Letter.  By  Joseph  Tuckerman.  Boston.  Hil- 
liard,  Gray,  ^  Co. 

Sequel  to  the  Seymour  Family;  or  Doiiestic  Scenes.  Boston.  L.  C. 
Bowles. 

Mytholo^cal  Fictions  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  By  Charles  P. 
Moritz.  translated  from  the  fifth  edition  in  German,  with  Improve- 
ments, by  C.  F.  W.  J.  New  Yorit.  O.  &  C.  &  H.  Carvill.  12mo. 
pp.  276. 

Sketches  of  Oxford  County.  By  Thomas  T.  Stone.  Portland. 
Shijdey  &  Hyde.    16ma    pp.  111. 

Anti-Masonry ;  first  published  in  the  American  Quarterly  Review^  for 
M^rci^  183a    Portiand.  8vo.    pp.  32. 

The  Works  of  President  Edwards ;  witii  a  Memoir  of  his  Life.  la 
10  vols.    New  York.    S.  Converse.    8vo. 

The  Stanwood  Fanaly;  or  the  Hiatcny  of  the  American  Tract  So- 
ciety.   Boston.    T.  R.  Marvin.    ISmo.    pp.  156. 

1^72.  A  Chronicle  of  the  Times  of  Charles  the  Ninth.  Translated 
fir<«i  the  French  of  Prosper  Merimee.  New  York.  G.  &  C.  &  H. 
Carvill.    12mo. 

The  Freedom  of  the  Mind,  demanded  of  American  Freemen,  being 
Lectures  to  the  Lyceum,  on  tiie  Improvement  of  liie  People,  by  Samud 
Nott,  jun.    Boston.    Crocker  &  Brewster,    l^o.    pp.  131. 

Principles  of  Legislation ;  from  the  MS.  of  Jeremy  Benthtna.  1^ 
M.  Dumont  Translated  from  the  second  correcled  and  enlarged  edi- 
tion 1  with  Notes  and  a  IKographical  Notice  of  Jeremy  Bentmun  and 
M.  I>nmont    ByJohnNeal.    Boston.    Wells &LiUy.    8vo.   pp.010. 

The  Beauties  and  Defects  in  tiie  Figure  of  the  florse.  Compara- 
tively delineated  in  a  series  of  Engravings.  Boston;  Carter  &  Hen- 
dee-    8vo. 

A  Table  of  Logarithms  of  Logarithmic  Sines,  and  a  Traverse  Table. 
New  York.    J.  &  J.  Harper.    12mo. 

The  Story  of  Isaac ;  or  the  Finft  Part  of  a  Conversation  between 
Mary  and  her  Mother.  By  Rev.  T.  H.  Gallaudet  Philadelphia.   16mo. 

An  Antitentic  Account  of  tiie  Fatal  Duel  fought  on  Sunday,  March 
21,  1830,  between  Mr  Charles  G.  Hunter,  and  Mr.  William  Miller,  jun. 
Wiwhinjfton.    J.  Elliot    8vo.    pp.  81. 

The  Evil  of  Theft ;  exhibited  in  the  History  of  James  Forrest  By 
the  Author  of  Sabbath  School  Scenes.    Boston.    James  Loring.    18mo« 

Discourses,  Reviews,  and  Miscellanies.  By  William  EUery  Chan- 
ninp;.    Boston.    Carter  &  Hendee.    8vo.    pp.  603. 

Course  of  Hebrew  Study ;  consisting  of  Extracts  in  Prose,  adapted 
to  the  Use  of  Beginners.  By  Moses  Stuart  VoL  2.  Andover.  Flagg 
&>  Gould.    €vo. 

American  Anecdotes :  Original  and  Select  Bjy  an  American.  In 
2  vols.    Boston.    Putnam  &  Hunt    12mo. 


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280  JVcw  Publications,  [July, 

An  Offering  of  Sympathy  to  Parents  bereaved  of  their  Children,  and 
to  others  under  affliction;  being  a  Collection  from  Manuscripts  and 
Letters  not  before  published.  Boston.  S.  N.  Dickinson.  ISmo.  pp. 
224. 

Leonora;  or  The  Presentation  at  Court,  beinff  the  First  Series  of 
Narratives  called  Young  Ladies'  Tales.  New  York.  E.  B.  Clajrton. 
18mo.    pp.  334. 

NOVELS. 

Grace  Seymour.    A  Novel  in  2  vols.    New  York.    E.  Bliss.    12ma 

Tales  of  the  Northwest ;  or  Sketches  of  Indian  Life  and  Character. 
By  a  Resident  beyond  the  Frontier.  Boston.  Hilliard,  Gray,  &  Co. 
18mo.    pp.  288. 

POETRY. 

The  Brighter  Age.  A  Poem.  By  J.  B.  Waterbury.  Boston.  Crocker 
&  Brewster.    8vo.    pp.  94. 

The  Deluge.  A  Demi-Serious  Poem.  By  Mr.  Smith.  Philadel- 
phia.   8vo.    pp.  50. 

The  Valley  of  Nashaway ;  and  other  Poems.  By  Rufus  Dawes. 
Boston.    Carter  &  Hendee.    12mo.    pp.  96. 

POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 

A  Review  of  Mr.  Cambreleng's  Report  from  the  Committee  of  Com- 
merce in  the  House  of  Representatives,  at  the  Session  of  the  Twenty 
First  Congress.  By  Mephistopheles.  Baltimore.  W.  O.  Niles.  8vo. 
pp.  72. 

ORATIONS  AND  SPEECHES. 

An  Address' delivered  before  the  Massachusetts  Society  for  the  Sup- 
pression of  Intemperance,  May  27, 1830.  By  James  T.  Austin.  Bos- 
ton.   John  H.  Eastbum.    8vo.    pp.  32. 

A  Plea  for  entire  Abstinence.  A  Discourse,  delivered  in  Troy,  Jan- 
uary 17,  before  the  Troy  Temperance  Society.  By  Mark  Tucker. 
Boston.    Richardson,  Lord,  &  Holbrook. 

Indian  Rights  and  our  Duties.  An  Address  delivered  December, 
1829.  By  Heman  Humphrey,  D.  D.  Amherst  J.  S.  &  C.  Adams,  & 
Co. 

An  Address  delivered  before  the  Kennebunk  Temperance  Society, 
December  25, 1829.    By  Dr.  B.  Smart 

An  Address  delivered  at  the  opening  of  the  Charlestown  Lyceum, 
January  5,  1830.  By  Timothy  Wafter.  Cambridge.  Hilliard  & 
Brown. 

An  Address  delivered  before  the  Temperance  Society  of  South  Ber- 
wick, Me.  November  26, 1829.  By  Barton  Stow.  2d  edition.  Porte- 
mouth.    Miller  &  Brewster. 

THEOLOGY. 

Successful  Missions ;  or  a  History  of  the  Missions  conducted  by  the 
London  Missionary  Society,  in  the  Society  and  Georgian  Islands.  By 
Asa  S.  Colton.    Philadelphia.    W.  Stavely.     18mo.    pp.  174. 

Scripture  Histoiy ;  with  Additions  from  the  Books  of  Maccabees  and 
Josephus.  By  T.  Halle  worth.  3d  edition,  enlarged  and  much  improved, 
Boston.    Strong  &  Crittenden.    18mo.    pp.  S^. 


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1830.]  New  PubKcatians.  S81 

Liyea  of  tiie  EvftngeHsts  and  Apostles ;  writers  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment For  the  Use  of  Sunday  Schools  and  Families.  Cambridge. 
HMard  &  Brown.    18mo.    pp.  119. 

A  Sermon,  preached  in  Berlin,  at  the  Ordination  of  Mr.  R.  F.  Wall- 
cvl,  February  10, 183a  By  Charles  Lowell.  Boston.  L.  C.  Bowles. 
8vo»    pp.  ^2. 

A  Brief  Notice  of  Dr.  Tyler's  Vindication  of  his  Strictures.    First 

Siblished  in  the  Quarterly  Christian  Spectator,  for  June,  1830.  New 
aven.    Baldwin  &  Treadwaj[. 

Lectures  in  Defence  of  Divine  Revelation^  By  David  Pickering. 
Providence.    Simuel  W.  Wheeler.     12mo.    pp.  216. 

The  Theolofiry  of  the  Cambridge  Divinity  School  By  F.  W.  P. 
Greenwood.    Boston.    Gray  &  Bowen.    12mo. 

Selections  from  the  Holy  Scriptiires ;  Intended  as  Sabbath  Exercises 
for  Children.  Part  L  Devotional  Extracts.  New  Haven.  H.  Howe. 
12mo.    pp.  88. 

Moses  on  Nebo ;  or  Death  a  Duty.  A  Sermon  occasioned  by  the 
Death  of  the  Rev.  Jos'?ph  S.  Christmas.  By  Gardiner  Spring,  D.  D. 
Now  York.    John  P.  Haven.    8vo.  pp.  47. 

Discourses  on  the  m-^st  Important  Doctrines  and  Duties  of  the  Chris- 
tian Religion.  By  Alexander  V.  Griswold,  D.  D.  Philadelphia.  W. 
Stavely.    8vo.    pp.  472. 

A  Sermon,  preached  at  the  Annual  Election,  May  26, 1^30.  By 
William  £.  Channinsr.    Boston.    Carter  &  Hendee.    8vo.    pp.  46. 

Reasons  1^  the  Unitarian  Belief;  plainly  stated  in  Nine  Lectures. 
By  Latiier  Hamilton.    Boston.    L.  C.  Bowles.    12mo.    pp.  137. 

A  Brief  Exposition  of  the  Doctrine  of  The  New  Church.  Trans- 
lated from  the  Latin  of  Emanuel  Swedenborg.  Boston.  Adonis  How- 
ard.   12mo.    pp.  92. 

Extracts  from  Sermons,  by  the  late  Rev.  John  Emeir  Abbot,  of  Sa- 
lem, Mass.  With  a  Memoir  of  his  Life.  By  Henry  Ware,  Jr.  Bos- 
ton.   Wait,  Green,  &  Co.    12mo.    pp.  139. 

A  Sermon,  preached  at  the  Ordination  of  Rev.  Lucius  W.  Clark. 
By  Joseph  I.  Foot    Brookfield.    £.  &  G.  Merriam.    8vo.    pp.  22. 

A  Sermon,  delivered  in  Portsmouth,  N.  H.  April  1, 1830,  beinff  the 
Day  of  the  Annual  Fast  By  Jared  B.  Waterbury.  Portsmouth.  J. 
W.  Shepard. 

Two  Discourses  on  The  Lord's  Supper,  preached  in  Westminster 
Churchy  Providence,  February  28.  By  Frederick  A.  Farley.  Provi- 
dence.   M.  Robinson.    12mo. 

A  Discourse,  delivered  before  the  First  Parish  in  Hingham,  April 
6, 1^0,  the  Day  of  Public  Fast  By  Simuel  Presbury.  Hingham. 
C.  &  E.  B.  Gill. 

Conversations  on  the  Bombay  Mis-;ion.  By  the  Author  of  <  Conver- 
sations on  the  Sandwich  Island  Mission.'  Boston.  T.  R.  Marvin. 
18mo.    pp.  156. 

The  New  Testament  in  the  Conraion  Version,  conformed  to  Gries- 
bach's  Standard  Greek  Text  Boston.  Gray  &  Bowen.  12mo.  pp. 
491. 

An  Evangelical  View  of  the  Nature  and  Means  of  Regenertttion ; 
Ccm^riaing  a  Review  of  <  Dr.  Tyler's  Strictures.'  By  Evangelus  Pa- 
cificus.    &ston.    Perkins  &  Marvin.    8vo.    pp.  40. 

VOL*  XXXI* — ^NO.  68.  36 


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282  New  Publicatuyns.  [July, 

Letters  and  Conyeraations  on  the  Ceylon  Mission.  Boston.  T.  R. 
Marvin.     ]8ino.    pp.  211. 

History  of  the  Church  of  Christ,  from  the  Creation  to  the  Present 
Time.    Portland.    Shirley  &  Hyde.    18mo.    pp.  143. 

A  Discourse,  delivered  at  the  Dedication  of  the  Meeting  House  of 
the  Keene  Con&rregational  Sociaty,  April  ^8, 1830.  By  T.  R.  SuQi- 
v&D.    Keene.    J.  &  J.  W.  Prentiss.    8vo.    pp.  25. 

Lessons  without  Books;  hy  the  Author  of  *The  Beatitudes.*  In  2 
vols.    Boston.    L.  C.  Bowles.    18mo. 

Footsteps  to  Nat^al  History.  Nos.  1  and  2.  Boston.  L.  C. 
Bowles. 

An  Apology  for  Renouncing  Infant  B^tism,and  Baptism  by  Sprink- 
ling ;  and  for  Embracing  Believer's  Baptism  by  Immersion.  By  Hub- 
bel  Loomis.    Southbridge.    Josiah  Snow.    8vo. 

The  Genius  of  Christianity.  By  William  H.  Fumess.  Boston. 
Gray  &  Bowen.    12mo.    pp.  24. 

The  Atoning  Sacrifice,  a  Display  of  Love,  not  of  Wrath.  By  Noah 
Worcester.    ^  edition.    Cambridge.    Hilliard  &  Brown. 

VOYAGES  AND  TRAVELS. 

The  Northern  Traveller  and  Northern  Tour,  with  the  Routes  to  the 
Springs,  Niagara,  and  Quebec ;  also  the  Tour  of  New  England.  Fourth 
Edition,  revised  and  extended.  New  York.  J.  &  J.  Harper.  Idmo. 
pp.  444. 

The  Fashionable;  a  Guide  to  Travellers  Visiting  the  Middle  and 
Northern  States  and  the  Provinces  of  Canada.  Fourth  Edition,  en- 
larged and  improved.  Saratoga  Springs.  G.  M.  Davison.  ISmo. 
pp.  434. 

A  Visit  to  Greece  and  Constantinople,  in  the  Years  1827 — 8.  By 
Henry  A.  V.  Post.    New  York.    Sleight  &  Robinson.    8vo.    pp.  367. 

AMERICAN  EDITIONS  OF  FOREIGN  WORKS. 

English  Synonymes,  with  Copious  Illustrations  and  Explanations, 
drawn  from  the  best  Writers.  A  new  Edition,  enlarged.  By  George 
Crabb,  M.  A.    New  York.    J.  &  J.  Harper.    8vo.    pp.535. 

The  Doom  of  Devorgoil,  a  Melo  Drama.  Auchendrane  ;  or  the  Ayr- 
shire Tragedy.  By  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Bart  New  York.  J.  &  J.  Har- 
per.   ISkno.    pp.  190. 

The  Evangelical  Spectator.  By  the  Author  of  The  *  Evangelical 
Rambler.'  Revised  by  the  Rev.  G.  T.  Bedell.  In  2  vds.  Philadel- 
phia.   W.  Stavely.    18mo. 

Stories  of  Waterloo ;  and  other  Tales.  In  2  vols.  New  York.  J.  &.  J. 
Harper.     12mo. 

The  Book  of  'fealth  r  a  Comnnndiom  of  Oomostic  Mc^'icin*?  Hcc'iicod 
from  the  Experience  of  the  most  Eminent  Modem  Practitioners.  First 
Amsrican,  from  the  Second  London  Edition,  Revised  and  Conformed  to 
the  Practice  oi  the  Uniteu  Stales.  iiosluLi.  liiCiiarusuii,  .^orii,  ^-^  a^o.- 
brook.    8vo.    pp.  179. 

The  History  of  Napoleon  Buonaparte.    By  J.  G.  Lockhart,  Esq.     In 
2  vols.    New  York.    J.  &  J.  Harper. 
"  Cloudesley ;  a  Tale,  by  the  Author  of  *  Caleb  Williams.'    In  2  vok. 
New  York.    J.  &  J.  Harper.    12mo. 


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1830.]  New  Publications.  283 

Captain  Hall  in  America.  By  an  American.  Philadelphiai  Carey 
Sl  Lea.    8vo.    pp.  120. 

Reports  of  Cases  Ar^ed  and  Determined  in  the  English  Courts  of 
Common  Law.  Edited  hy  Thomas  Sergeant,  and  John  C.  Lowher, 
Esqrs.  of  the  Philadelphia  Bar.  Vol.  15.  Philadelphia.  P.  H.  Necklin 
&  T.  Johnson.    8vo. 

The  Anatomy,  Physiology,  and  Diseases  of  the  Teeth.  By  Thomas 
Bell,  F.  R.  S.,  &c.    Philadelphia.    Carey  &  Lea.    8vo.    pp.  351. 

The  History  of  the  Jews,  from  the  Earliest  Period  to  the  Present 
Time.  By  Rev.  H.  H.  Milman.  In  3  vols.  New  York.  J.  &  J.  Har- 
per.   ISmo. 

Damley ;  or  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold.  By  the  Author  of 
<  Richelieu,'  &c.    In  2  vols.    New  York.    J.  Sl  J.  Harper.    12mo. 

Letters  and  Journals  of  Lord  Byron ;  with  Notices  of  hia  Life.  By 
Thomas  Moore.    In  2  vols.    New  York.    J.  &  J.  Harper.    8vo. 

The  House  of  Aspen ;  a  Tragedy.  By  Sir  Walter  Scott  Philadel- 
phia.   C.  Alexander.    12mo. 

Elements  of  the  Theory  and  Practice  of  Physic,  Designed  for  the 
Use  of  Students.  By  George  Gregory,  M.  D.  First  American  from 
Hie  Third  London  Edition ;  with  Notes.  By  Daniel  L.  M.  Peirotto^ 
M.  D.  ■  New  York.    M.  Sherman.    8vo.    pp.  738. 

A  Present  to  Young  Christians ;  or  Little  Mary  *  Set  Free.'  Hart- 
ford.   D.  F.  Rohinson  &  Co.    18mo.    pp.  108. 

Foscarini;  or  The  Patrician  of  Vemce.  In  2  vols.  New  York. 
S.  &  J.  Harper.    12mo. 

Lectures  on  the  Theory  and  Practice  of  Surgery.  By  John  Aher- 
nethv,  F.  R.  S.,  &c.    New  York.    C.  S.  Francis.    8vo.    pp.  190. 

The  Testimony  of  Scripture  to  the  Ohliffations  and  EfEcacy  of  Pray- 
er ;  in  Three  Discourses.  By  Gilbert  Waidlaw,  A.  M.  Boston.  Pierce 
&  Williams.     12mo.    pp.  142. 

Rob  Roy.  Revised  and  Corrected,  with  a  General  Preface,  and 
Notes,  Historical  and  Illustrative,  by  the  Author.  In  2  vols.  Boston. 
S.  H.  Parker.    12mo. 

Memoir  of  the  late  Mrs.  Patterson,  Wife  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Patterson, 
St  Petersburg,  containing  Extracts  from  his  Diary  and  Correspondence. 
By  the  Rev.  William  Swan.    Boston.    Perkins  &  Marvin.     18mo. 

Christian  Biography.  The  Life  of  the  Rev.  John  Brown,  of  Had- 
dington, Scotland.  Revised  and  Enlarged.  New  York.  John  P. 
Haven.    18mo.    pp.  344. 

Christian  Biography.  The  Life  of  the  Rev.  Philip  Henry.  By  his 
Son,  Rev.  Matthew  Henry.  Author  of 'Commentary  on  the  Bible.' 
Revised  and  Enlarged.    New  York.    John  P.  Haven.    18mo.    pp.  238. 

The  Pleasantness  of  a  Religious  Life  Opened  and  Proved.  By  Mat^ 
thew  Henry.    Boston.    Pierce  &  Williams.    18mo.    pp.  166. 

A  Treatise  on  Surgical  Anatomy ;  on  the  Anatomy  of  Regions,  Illus- 
trated by  Plates  Representincr  the  Principal  Regions  of  the  Body.  By 
Alf.  A.  L.  M.  Velpeau,  M.  D.  P.  Translated  from  the  French,  with 
Additional  Notes,  by  John  W.  Sterling,  M.  D.  In  2  vols.  New  York. 
S.  Wood  &  Sons.    8vo.    pp.  456. 

Treatises  on  Justification  and  Regeneration.  By  J.  Witherspoon, 
D.  D. ;  with  an  Introductory  Essay,  by  William  Wilberforce,  Esq. 
Amherst    J.  S.  &  C.  Adams,  &  Co.    12mo.    pp.  264. 


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1 


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NORTH  AMERICAN  REVIEW. 

No.  LXIX. 


OCTOBER,  1830. 


Art.  I. — The  American  Anntud  Register  for  the  Years 
1827-8-9,  or  the  Fifty-second  and  Fifty-third  Years  of 
American  Independence.  New  York.  E.  &l  G.  W.  Blunt. 
1830. 

We  have,  on  former  occasions,  recommended  the  two  first 
volumes  of  the  American  Annual  Register,  in  terms  decisive 
of  our  opmion  of  the  plan  and  execution  of  the  work.  In  its 
plan,  we  scarce  know  a  work  capable  of  being  rendered  more 
valuable,  in  the  whole  class  of  literature  to  which  it  belongs. 
The  reader  has  only  to  consider  how  important  a  series  of 
volumes  an  American  Annual  Register  would  be,  commencing 
with  the  settlement  of  the  country,  or  even  with  the  revolution, 
in  order  to  form  an  opinion  of  the  claims  of  this  publication  to 
general  patronage.  For  want  of  a  contemporary  record,  like 
2iat  which  is  furnished  by  these  volumes,  not  a  litde  of  our 
history  is  irretrievably  lost.  The  materials  for  it,  if  they  exist 
at  all,  are  dispersed  throughout  newspapers,  magazines,  and 
congressional  documents,  which  it  is  in  vain,  after  the  lapse  of 
a  few  years,  to  attempt  to  collect.  A  single  volume,  like  one 
of  Aose  before  us,  relating  to  any  period  now  considerably  re- 
mote, would  contain  probably  more  information  than  the  anti- 
quary would  be  able  to  collect  by  years  of  study.  It  is  not 
extravagant  to  anticipate,  that,  from  the  time  when  the  publica- 
tion of  the  English  Annual  Register  commenced,  the  history 
of  modem  Europe  will  be  written  with  much  greater  facility, 
as  well  as  in  much  wider  comprehension,  than  before.  And 
what  that  work  has  accomplished  for  British  history  in  particu- 
lar, and  the  history  of  all  other  countries  as  far  as  they  are  in- 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  69.  37 


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286  American  Annual  Register.  [Oct. 

eluded  in  its  plan,  will  of  course  be  accomplished  for  American 
history,  by  a  work,  which  shall  appropriately  sustain  the  char- 
acter of  an  American  Annual  Register. 

But  it  is  not  enough  to  say,  that  these  works  will  be  useful 
to  posterity.  It  can  hardly  be  expected  of  any  generation  to 
support  expensive  works  solely  for  the  benefit  of  their  succes- 
sors. We  remark,  therefore,  farther,  that  publications  of  this 
class,  judiciously  executed,  are  of  great  immediate  utility. 
Their  object  is,  at  the  end  of  a  year,  to  present  the  public 
with  the  substance  of  the  year's  events.  It  is  possible,  mdeed, 
in  reference  to  occurrences  of  great  interest,  that  the  reading 
of  the  newspapers  from  day  to  day  will  leave  upon  the  mind,  at 
die  end  of  the  year,  a  distinct  and  accurate  impression  of 
what  has  happened.  Of  such  events  as  Napoleon's  invasion 
of  Russia,  and  perhaps  the  emancipation  of  the  Catholics,  or 
the  election  of  General  Jackson,  and  of  the  main  incidents  con- 
nected with  these  events,  the  knowledge  derived  from  the 
daily  journals  is  as  clear  and  correct  as  is  required.  Great 
single  incidents  of  course  attract  the  notice  and  dwell  on  the 
memory.  But  let  any  person,  even  the  most  assiduous  reader 
of  newspapers,  endeavor,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  to  go  over, 
m  his  own  mind,  the  poUtical  history  of  Great  Britain,  or  of 
France,  of  Columbia,  or  of  Mexico,  or  even  of  the  United 
States,  and  he  will  find  how  general  and  vague  his  recollection 
is.  He  will  find  himself  alternately  embarrassed  by  the  re- 
dundancy and  the  want  of  facts.  Many  things,  recorded  at 
the  time  as  ^  important  news,'  are  of  no  permanent  interest ;  and 
many  things,  that  are  of  considerable  consequence,  escape  even 
a  vigilant  attention.  To  give  a  summary  then  of  the  political 
history  of  the  year,  in  which  what  is  merely  superfluous  detail 
shall  be  omitted,  and  the  main  events  shall  be  continuously  nar- 
rated, is  the  duty  of  the  Annual  Register;  and  a  duty,  which 
cannot  be  discharged  without  essential  benefit  to  the  politician 
and  general  reader. 

We  have  already  expressed  a  favorable  opinion  of  the  man- 
ner m  which  the  former  volumes  of  the  American  Annual 
Register  have  been  executed.  The  present  volume  we  con- 
sider quite  equal  to  either  of  the  others.  In  ordinary  circum- 
stances, particularly  in  the  case  of  a  periodical  work,  we  might 
not  deem  it  strictly  proper,  to  make  the  successive  volumes  of 
a  series  the  subject  of  our  remarks.  Supposing,  however, 
the  American  i^nual  Register  not  yet  to  have  reached  a 


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1830.]  Jimerkan  Annual  Register.  287 

circulation,  to  make  it  wholly  independent  of.  the  usual  means 
of  recommending  new  works  to  the  notice  of  the  public,  and 
considering  it  highly  important  that  this  work  should  be  liber- 
ally sustained,  we  have  felt  it  a  duty  to  call  the  attention  of  our 
readers  to  its  merits. 

This  volume  comprehends  the  political  history  of  two  years, 
and  is  to  be  followed  by  an  additional  volume,  containing  the 
public  documents,  law  proceedings,  and  biographies  for  the 
same  period.  This  departure  from  the  strictness  of  the  plan 
of  an  Annual  Register  is  stated  by  the  conductor,  to  have 
been  caused  partly  by  private  considerations,  although  regarded 
by  him  as  justified  by  the  peculiar  character  of  the  events, 
which  transpired  during  the  two  years  embraced  in  the  vol- 
ume. We  are  not  at  all  disposed  to  question  the  weight  of 
the  private  considerations  alluded  to,  nor  to  murmur  at  the  de- 
lay. Neither  do  we  deny  that  the  history  of  1828  and  1829, 
both  domestic  and  foreign,  may,  in  its  leading  events,  be  very 
conveniently  written  at  once.  We  also  look  forward  with  in- 
terest to  the  supplementary  volume,  which  is  promised  us  in 
the  course  of  the  present  season.  We  are,  however,  of  the 
opinion,  that  on  the  punctual  appearance  of  a  volume  each 
year,  containing,  in  due  proportion,  all  the  matter  pertaining  to 
that  year,  the  success  of  this  work  will  mainly  depend.  With- 
out this,  the  publication  may  be  valuable,  but  it  will  not  be  an 
Annual  Register.  It  will  be  a  departure  from  that  plan,  which 
experience  has  shown  to  be  admirably  adapted  to  the  end  pro- 
posed ;  and  which  probably  possesses  advantages  over  any 
other,  which,  being  in  substance  the  same,  should  in  form  be 
considerably  different.  We  forbear  to  enlarge  on  the  topic, 
although  we  deem  it  one,  in  which  the  prosperity  of  the  work 
is  involved,  because  it  could  not  be  pursued  widiout  apparent 
disparagement  of  the  present  volume  and  of  that  which  is  ex- 
pected to  complete  the  two  years. 

Of  the  historical  portion  of  this  volume,  about  twice  as 
much  is  devoted  to  Europe  and  the  States  of  this  Continent 
south  of  our  Union,  as  is  devoted  to  the  United  States.  We 
are  not  disposed  to  apportion  numerically  the  number  of  pages, 
to  which  the  domestic  and  foreign  history  of  the  year  are  sever- 
ally entitled.  Circumstances  will  of  course,  at  different  times, 
suggest  greater  fullness  in  the  different  chapters  of  each.  We 
are  inclined  to  think  it  desirable,  however,  that  the  portion  de- 
voted to  the  United  States  of  America  should  be  at  least  as 


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388  American  Annual  Begiiter.  [Oct 

ample  as  all  the  rest  put  together.  The  work  is  unquestiona- 
bly looked  to  as  an  American  Annual  Register.  The  foreign 
portion  of  ttus  work  has  been  hitherto,  and  is,  in  the  present 
volume,  exceedingly  well  executed  ;  a  good  deal  better  than 
the  corresponding — ^that  is,  the  foreign  part  of  the  English 
Annual  Register.  Still,  however,  the  last  named  work,  the 
French  Annuairey  and  other  European  publications  may  be 
depended  on  to  iumish  a  satisfactory  account  of  foreign  history 
and  politics.  But  none  of  them  cah  for  us,  in  any  degree, 
supply  the  place  of  an  American  Annual  Register,  in  the  ac- 
count of  our  own  politics.  More  than  once  die  English  An- 
nual Register,  under  the  head  of  the  History  of  the  United 
States,  has  done  nothing  but  gather  up  the  libellous  trash  of 
our  own  daily  partisan  prints,  embodied  into  a  form  fit,  and, 
it  would  seem,  designed  for  no  higher  purpose,  than  to  be 
quoted  back  into  our  papers  as  the  judgment  of  foreigners  in 
respect  to  our  domestic  politics.  Besides  this,  it  is  notorious, 
that  foreigners  cannot  or  will  not  comprehend  America.  We 
want,  therefore,  both  for  the  instruction  of  Europe  and  for 
reference  at  home,  a  full  and  comprehensive  history  of  our 
own  political  year.  This  part  of  the  work  will  of  course  be 
the  most  attractive  to  the  foreign  reader ;  and  though,  on  the 
first  impression,  the  contrary  may  be  supposed,  it  will  be  the 
most  interesting  even  m  the  United  States.  A  far  larger  por- 
tion of  readers  will  be  gratified  and  instructed  by  a  well-di- 
gested and  ample  narrative  of  our  own  afiairs,  than  by  the  most 
finished  chapter  on  England,  France,  or  Russia.  It  must  not 
be  supposed,  that  what  is  familiar  to  the  conductor  of  the 
work,  whose  attention  is  systematically  turned  to  the  coUection 
of  its  materials,  will,  therefore,  be  trite  to  the  mass  of  the 
community.  A  good  portion  of  its  contents  will  be  positively 
new  to  them ;  and  what  was  known  before  will  serve  to  give 
additional  interest  to  the  narrative.  Nothmg  pleases  most  read- 
ers more  than  a  fiill  and  connected  account  of  an  interesting 
subject,  with  which  they  have  already  a  partial  acquaintance. 
The  actors  in  our  domestic  annals  are  all  of  them  men  well 
known  in  some  part  of  the  country — some  of  them  well  known 
in  every  part.  The  transactions,  in  which  they  are  concerned, 
relating  to  our  common  country  and  to  passing  interests,  will  be 
read  by  many,  who  would  grow  weary  over  the  bulletins  of  a 
campaign  in  distant  regions,  filled  with  die  exploits  of  men  they 
never  heard  of  before.     We  wish  also  as  much  extension  as 


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1830.]  American  Annual  Register.  389 

possible  given  to  the  chapters  on  the  separate  States.  There 
is  generally  in  each  of  the  States  some  important  or  curious 
legislation,  and  some  contribution  toward  the  permanent  and 
essential  history  of  the  country.  This  part  of  the  work,  we 
are  fuDy  aware,  will  be  the  most  difficult  to  prepare.  There 
is  no  convenient  official  source,  like  the  journals  of  Congress, 
firom  which  it  can  be  derived.  It  must  be  sought  in  newspa- 
pers, and  not  in  a  smaU  number  of  them.  We  believe,  how- 
ever, that  the  pains  and  dUigence,  bestowed  on  this  part  of  the 
work,  would  be  amply  rewarded  in  its  increased  value.  Some 
States  might  be  dismissed  more  readily  than  others ;  and  the 
State,  which  presented  very  important  matter  one  year,  might 
be  summarUy  despatched  the  next.  But  the  chapters  devoted 
to  them,  if  carefully  elaborated,  would  be  those  perused  with 
most  interest  by  the  mass  of  the  readers  of  the  work.  Con- 
siderable care  must  be  used  in  assigning  to  different  States 
their  relative  portion  of  the  pages  of  the  work,  accordmg  to 
the  interest  likely  to  be  felt  tIn*oughout  the  country,  in  the  va- 
rious topics  treated  under  each  head.  Thus  an  abstract  of  the 
Revised  Code  of  New  York  occupies  seventy  pages  of  the 
present  volume,  and  the  proceedings  of  South  Carolina  on  the 
subject  of  Nullification,  are  comprehended  in  two  pages.  Tbis 
perhaps  is  about  the  due  share  of  each,  in  a  philoso^c  aspect 
of  the  importance  of  the  respective  topics.  But  in  an  Annual 
Register  of  the  politics  and  histOTy  of  the  country,  something 
might  have  been  retrenched  from  one  article  and  added  to  the 
other.  We  refer  to  these  instances,  however,  rather  in  die 
way  of  illustration,  to  explain  our  meaning,  dian  of  fault-find- 
ing. The  chapters  on  American  history  contain  the  principal 
incidents  in  the  legislation  of  the  twentieth  Congress,  and  the 
chief  occurrences  in  the  two  last  years  of  the  late  administra- 
tion. Tbey  are  related  with  as  much  moderation  as  can  be 
brought  to  such  topics  by  any  person  entertaining  opinions  of 
his  own.  There  is  no  partisan  violence  in  relating  events  and 
characterising  measures,  in  which  the  author  must  have  felt 
deeply,  and  in  which  he  knew  the  public  felt  as  deeply  as  him- 
self. This  moderation  of  tone  belongs  to  the  dignity  of  his- 
torical narrative,  and  in  adopting  it,  the  conductor  of  the  Reg- 
ister has  shown  that  he  is  alive  to  the  elevated  character  of  his 
work.  Considered  as  a  publication  intended  for  perusal 
abroad,  we  deem  this  a  very  important  part  of  its  merits.  Al- 
though licentiousness  is  inseparable  from  a  free  press,  the  fero- 


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390  American  Annual  Register.  [Oct. 

city  of  our  electioneering  discussions  has  injured  us  essentially 
in  the  judgment  of  enlightened  Europe.  It  is  true,  our  breth- 
ren in  England  can  say  but  little  on  this  topic,  for  their  press 
is  as  licentious  as  our  own,  though  in  a  much  narrower  sphere  5 
but  the  condition  of  the  political  press,  in  free  countries,  is 
already  quoted  as  the  justification  of  its  restraint  by  the  arbi- 
trary governments  of  the  continent. 

We  consider  the  Editor  of  this  volume  of  the  Register  as 
having  done  wisely,  in  abstaining,  in  a  good  degree,  from  the 
insertion  of  debates  in  Congress.  As  nothing  like  even  a  fair 
specimen  of  the  speeches  of  the  two  houses  could  be  given, 
without  unduly  occupying  the  pages  of  tlie  Register,  we  con- 
ceive it  every  way  better  (though  otherwise  perhaps  contem- 
plated in  the  original  plan  of  tlie  work)  to  confine  the  account 
of  congressional  proceedings  to  the  history  of  their  progress 
through  the  stages  of  legislation,  and  a  general  view  of  the  ar- 
guments, by  which  they  are  supported  and  opposed.  All  else 
must  be  left  to  a  Register  of  Debates — a  work  of  prime  neces- 
sity in  the  political  literature  of  the  country.  We  had  hoped 
that  the  spirited  commencement,  which  was  made  by  Messrs. 
Gales  &z;  Seaton,  a  few  years  ago,  would,  under  a  liberal 
public  and  private  patronage,  have  resulted  in  the  permanent 
establishment  of  such  a  work.  The  private  patronage,  we  re- 
gret to  hear,  has  not  been  commensurate  with  the  acknowledged 
importance  of  the  undertaking,  and  the  public  subscription,  if 
we  are  not  misinformed,  has  been  withdrawn.  It  will  be  a 
matter  of  just  regret  should  these  circumstances  cause  the 
suspension  of  a  work  of  very  high  importance  to  the  legislation 
of  the  country.  We  yet  hope  that  there  will  be  found  enough 
of  public  and  private  liberality  to  warrant  not  merely  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  work,  which  was  commenced  in  1825,  but  the 
collection  of  the  congressional  debates  from  the  adoption  of 
the  Constitution. 

To  retura  to  the  American  Annual  Register,  we  must  repeat 
the  opinion  that  it  is  a  publication  richly  entitled  to  piatronage. 
It  is  essential  to  the  well-instructed  politician  and  the  enlight- 
ened general  reader.  It  ought  to  have  a  place  in  all  our  pub- 
Uc  and  social  libraries ;  and  in  the  collections  of  individuals, 
who  study  the  history  of  their  country  and  of  their  age.  It  is 
in  its  nature  a  work  of  growing  value.  The  series  of  volumes 
will  constitute  a  repository  not  to  be  dispensed  with,  the  im- 
portance of  which  will  be  out  of  proportion  to  that  of  the 


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1830.]  Turkey.  291 

single  volumes,  of  which  it  is  composed.  It  is  capable  of  be- 
ing made,  we  fully  believe,  the  most  popular  periodical  work 
published  in  the  country.  It  would  richly  repay  the  time  and 
attention  of  any  conductor,  however  gilted  and  respectable. 
And  in  exhorting  the  accomplished  gentleman,  who  is  under- 
stood hitherto  to  have  presided  over  its  preparation,  to  perse- 
vere in  this  honorable  pursuit,  and  to  make  it  more  and  more 
an  object  of  his  studies  and  labors,  we  believe  we  consult  the 
interest  of  the  reading  public,  as  well  as  his  own  reputation. 
If  the  authority  of  a  name  be  wanted  to  stamp  a  character  on 
the  work,  let  him  be  reminded,  that  he  is  executing  a  plan, 
which  was  first  projected  by  Burke,  and  for  years  occupied  no 
small  portion  of  his  time. 


Akt.  II. — 1.  Fuersten  und  Voelker  von  Sued-Europa  im 
Sechszehnten  und  Siebzehnten  Jahrhundert^  vomehmlich 
aus  ungedrueckten  Gesandschafts-Berichten,  Von  Leopold 
Ranke.  [Princes  and  Nations  of  tlie  South  of  Europe 
in  the  Sixteenth  and  Seventeenth  Centuries,  compiled 
principally  from  die  Reports  of  Ambassadors.  By  Leo- 
pold VON  Ranke.]     Hamburg.     182T. 

2.  Geschichte  des  Osmanischen  Retches  aus  den  Quellen. 
Von  Joseph  von  Hammer.  [History  of  the  Ottoman  Em- 
pire, from  Original  Sources.  By  Joseph  von  Hammer.] 
Perth.     1827. 

3.  Des  Osmanischen  Reichs  Staatsverfassung  und 
Siaatsverwaltung  von  Demselben.  [Constitution  and  Ad- 
ministration of  the  Ottoman  Empire.  By  the  same.]  Vien- 
na.    1827. 

We  have  recendy  seen  a  great  empire,  which  but  a  few 
centuries  ago,  threatened  to  extend  its  dominion  over  all  the 
European  continent,  preserved  from  entire  ruin  only  by  the 
relations  of  its  victorious  invader  with  other  powers.  The 
terror,  which  that  empire  formerly  inspired,  is  proved  by  the 
well-known  fact,  that  prayers  for  the  destruction  of  the  Turks 
are  still  to  be  found  in  the  litanies  of  some  of  the  German 
churches.  It  may  not  be  uninteresting  to  inquire,  in  what 
manner,  and  by  what  means,  so  extraordinary  a  change  has 
been  produced  in  so  short  a  period  ;  and  we  shall  endeavor  in 


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292  Turkey.  [Oct 

this  article,  to  present  our  readers  with  a  brief  view  of  the 
causes  of  the  decline  of  the  Ottoman  empire. 

In  attempting  to  ascertain  the  causes  to  which  the  decline  of 
any  institution  is  properly  to  be  attributed^  we  shall  be  mate- 
rially aided  in  our  inquiries,  by  first  investigating  those  of  its 
ascendancy.  We  shsill  thus  discover  the  essential  principles 
of  its  organisation,  in  which  are  not  unfrequently  to  be  traced 
the  sources  of  its  decay.  The  decline  of  the  Roman  empire 
was  not  owing  to  its  invasion  by  barbarians,  but  that  invasion 
was  rather  the  result  of  its  decline.  The  downfall  of  empires 
may  doubtless  be  accelerated  by  external  causes,  though  the 
operation  of  these  causes  is  generally  limited  and  partial.  It 
is  to  the  effect  of  mtemal  causes,  that  the  greatness  of  the 
Ottoman  empire,  in  the  reign  of  Solyman  11.,  as  well  as  the 
subsequent  decline  of  its  power,  must  be  attributed. 

In  studying  the  history  of  the  Turks,  very  litde  assistance  is 
to  be  derived  from  their  native  writers ;  but  this  defect  is  in  a 
great  measure  supplied,  by  the  reports  of  many  European  am- 
bassadors, who  resided  at  the  court  of  the  Sultan,  at  the  period 
when  the  Ottoman  empire  underwent  the  most  important 
changes.  The  most  valuable  of  these  are  the  relazioni  of  the 
ambassadors  of  Venice.  This  haughty  republic,  whose  position 
enabled  her  not  unfrequentiy  to  tiu*ow  a  decisive  weight  into 
the  scale  of  contending  nations,  whose  commerce  brought  her 
into  close  connexion  with  the  greatest  kingdoms,  and  made 
her  friendship  desirable  to  all,  more  than  supplied  her  want  of 
physical  power  by  the  wisdom  of  her  policy.  Her  most  able 
and  experienced  citizens  were  employed  as  her  representatives 
at  foreign  courts.  They  were  required  to  send  weekly  state- 
ments of  all  important  occurrences  to  theu:  own  government, 
and  upon  their  return  to  Venice,  to  present  a  very  full  and 
particular  account  of  the  court  and  nation  in  which  they  had 
resided,  to  the  Council  of  the  Pregadi.  This  Council  was 
composed  of  men  of  talent  and  experience,  who  had  either 
formerly  been,  or  might  subsequentiy  be  called  to  officiate  in  a 
similar  capacity.  In  the  reports  of  the  ambassadors  the  situa- 
tion and  circumstances  of  foreign  courts,  the  condition  of  the 
people,  the  administration  of  the  government,  and  their  rela- 
tive position  in  regard  to  other  States,  particularly  Venice,  were 
described.  Together  with  his  report,  the  present,  which  he 
had  received  from  the  sovereign,  was  laid  by  the  ambassador 
at  the  feet  of  his  Signoria.     Thsse  reports  were  read  before 


•Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


1S30.]  Turkey.  293 

the  coijDcil,  in  presence  of  the  doge,  to  whom  they  were  ad- 
dressed ;  and  as  they  contained  the  resuhs  of  acute  and  per- 
sonal observation,  were  conimonly  interesting  and  satisfactory. 
The  practice  was  considered  by  the  Venetians  as  very  useliil 
to  tlie  state  ;  and  it  must  have  been  particularly  important  at  a 
period,  when  travellers  were  not  very  numerous,  and  the  nar- 
ratives of  their  travels  were  very  seldom  published.  It  was, 
however,  condemned  by  some,  who  called  it  a  dissection  of 
courts  and  governments ;  and  we  find  that  these  ambassadors 
were  not  unfrequently  reproached  for  their  freedom  and  offi- 
ciousness.  The  reports  were  preserved  in  the  archives  of  the 
state. 

The  name  relazione  was  first  used  in  1465,  though  the  am- 
bassadors of  Venice  were  required  to  note  down  every  thing 
remarkable  which  they  observed  abroad,  by  a  law  passed  two 
centuries  earlier.  Both  the  name  and  the  practice  were  re- 
tained, until  so  late  a  period  as  the  beginning  of  the  French 
revolution.  They  are  frequently  referred  to  between  the  years 
1530  and  1630,  during  which  period,  it  was  not  unusual  for 
exalted  personages  to  employ  clerks  for  the  purpose  of  copy- 
ing them. 

The  ambassadors  of  the  pope,  of  the  king  of  Spain,  and 
the  dukes  of  Florence  and  Ferrara,  were  instructed  to  prepare 
reports  of  a  similar  kind  ;  and  large  collections  of  these  docu- 
ments were  formed,  either  original  or  copied,  many  of  which 
are  still  preserved  in  some  European  Hbraries.  The  collect 
tion  of  Venetian  rclazioni,  in  the  library  of  Paris,  is  so  com- 
plete, that,  in  the  opinion  of  competent  judged,  it  would  fully 
•supply  the  loss  of  all  the  archives  of  Venice.  For  the  first 
collections  of  the  kind,  we  are  indebted  to  Cardinal  Vitellozo, 
who  spared  no  labor  or  expense  in  procuring  these  manuscripts, 
and  whose  example  was  soon  followed  by  many  other  persons 
of  distinguished  eminence.  Several  modern  authors  have 
availed  themselves  of  these  historical  treasures ;  and  in  the 
valuable  work  of  Mr.  Ranke,  Professor  of  History  at  Berlin, 
the  title  of  which  is  placed  at  the  head  of  this  article,  we  see 
the  fortunate  result  of  a  diligent  and  judicious  study  of  them. 
Of  the  numerous  other  writers  upon  the  subject  of  Turkey, 
we  shall  mention  only  Mr.  Joseph  von  Hammer,  one  of  the 
first  oriental  scholars  of  the  age.  Three  volumes  of  his  great 
work,  the  title  of  which  is  also  prefixed  to  this  article,  and 
which  bring  the  History  of  the  Ottoman  Empire  down  to  the 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  69.  38 


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294  Turkey.  t^ct. 

year  1574,  have  been  already  published.  Mr.  Von  Hammer 
\^as  for  many  years  employed  in  the  diplomatic  service  of 
Austria  in  Egypt  and  Turkey,  ind  is  now  interpreter  of  orien- 
tal languages  in  the  department  of  state  at  Vienna.  Besides 
the  work  already  mentioned,  he  has  published  the  Reports  of 
Resmi  Ahmed  EfFendi,  Turkish  ambassador  to  Vienna  and  Ber- 
lin ;  a  translation  of  the  Trumpet  of  the  Holy  War ;  a  work 
entitled  the  Constitution  of  the  Ottoman  Empire  ;  and  Views 
oil  a  Journey  from  Constantinople  to  Brussa  and  Olympus. 

The  origin  of  the  empire  of  the  Ottomans,  as  it  is  described 
in  their  own  traditions,  was  by  no  means  imposing.  It  appears 
from  these,  that  the  founder  of  that  empire  cultivated  the 
ground  with  his  slaves,  and  that  a  flag  was  employed  by  him 
as  a  signal  to  call  them  from  their  labors  at  noon.  When  they 
accompanied  him  in  his  military  expeditions,  they  continued  to 
assemble  under  the  same  signal.  This  personage  was  favored 
with  a  prophetic  dream,  in  which  a  tree  appeared  to  shoot 
forth  from  his  body,  and  to  overshadow  the  world.  It  is  fur- 
ther related,  that,  after  a  considerable  part  of  Asia  Minor  had 
become  subject  to  this  tribe,  Solyman,  the  nephew  of  Osman, 
as  he  was  one  day  riding  by  the  Hellespont,  amidst  the  ruins 
of  ancient  cities,  fell  into  a  profound  reverie.  '  Of  what,' 
asked  one  of  his  companions,  '  is  my  khan  thinking  ? '  *  Of 
the  mode/  replied  Solyman,  '  in  which  I  shall  reach  the  Euro- 
pean shores.'  These  companions  of  Solyman  were  the  first 
Turks  who  invaded  Europe.  Amurath  I.,  his  brother,  con- 
quered Adrianople  ;  and  from  this  time  the  power  of  the  Ot- 
tomans increased  with  great  rapidity.  The  successors  of  Am- 
urath were  ujiiformly  victorious,  until  Solyman  II.,  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  sixteenth  century,  became  the  ruler  of  a  vast 
empire.  The  name  of  this  powerful  sultan  was  rendered  for- 
midable throughout  the  Mediterranean  by  the  famous  Chaired- 
din  Barbarossa,  who  boasted  that  his  turban  alone,  placed  upon 
a  stafl^,  would  drive  the  Christians  far  back  into  the  country. 
At  this  time,  thirty  kingdoms  and  nearly  eight  thousand  leagues 
of  sea-coast  were  included  in  the  Ottoman  empire ;  and  Soly- 
man assumed  the  pompous  and  not  altogether  inappropriate 
titles  of  Emperor  of  Emperors,  Prince  of  Princes,  Distributer 
of  Earthly  Crowns,  Shadow  of  (Jod  over  both  Hemispheres, 
Ruler  of  Europe  and  Asia,  and  of  the  Black  and  White  Seas. 
One  of  the  causes  of  this  vast  and  sudden  accession  of  power 
was  the  degenerate  condition  of  the  conquered  countries ;  but 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Turkejf.  296 

it  was  principally  to  be  attributed  to  the  peculiar  organisation 
of  the  conquering  tribe. 

It  was  the  custom  of  the  Ottomans,  to  divide  the  countries 
which  they  conquered  into  a  multitude  of  fiefs.  The  highest 
officers  of  the  empire  were  two  beglerbegs.  Next  in  rank  to 
them  were  the  sandgiacbegSy  the  commanders  of  a  flag  ;  then 
the  (daiiegs,  who  commanded  the  different  divisions  of  the 
army ;  and  lastly,  the  owners  of  larger  or  smaller  fiefs,  which 
were  known  by  tlie  name  of  siamets  or  timars.  All  these 
were  compelled,  upon  the  requisition  of  the  sultan,  to  provide 
horsemen,  varying  in  number,  according  to  the  importance  of 
their  respective  fiefs.  The  horsemen,  thus  furnished,  were 
called  sipahi  or  spahL  By  means  of  this  arrangement,  the 
sultan  was  enabled  at  any  moment  to  summon  to  his  standard 
eighty  thousand  soldiers  from  Europe,  and  fifty  thousand  from 
Natolia.  The  owner  of  a  siamet  or  timar,  with  an  income  of 
three  thousand  aspers  (about  thirty-six  dollars  and  a  half),  was 
required  to  provide  a  single  horseman,  and  an  additional  one 
for  every  five  thousand  aspers  of  additional  income.  So  far 
there  was  no  essential  difference  between  the  feudal  system  of 
Turkey,  and  that  of  Western  Europe.  Among  the  Turks^ 
however,  as  there  existed  no  nobility,  no  right  of  immediate 
succession  was  vested  in  the  son.  In  fact,  it  was  expressly 
provided  by  Solyman,  that  the  infant  son  of  a  sandgiacbeg, 
with  an  income  of  seven  hundred  thousand  aspers,  should  in- 
herit only  a  timar  with  an  income  of  five  thousand  aspers,  and 
be  compelled  in  addition  to  this,  to  maintain  a  single  horseman. 
The  son  of  a  sipahi,  who  died  in  actual  service,  was  entitled 
to  a  larger  timar,  than  if  the  sipahi  died  at  home.  The  pri- 
vate property  of  a  wealthy  sandgiacbeg  descended  not  to  his 
sons,  but  his  successor  ;  and  the  sons  of  the  most  aflJuent  were 
placed  upon  a  level  with  those  of  the  poorest,  excepting  that 
none  but  the  sons  of  timarli,  that  is,  owners  of  timars,  were 
entitled  to  fiefs  of  this  description.  In  regard  to  conquered 
countries,  this  military  body  might  be  considered  as  a  kind  pf 
nobility,  while  in  regard  to  each  other,  they  were  on  a  footing 
of  perfect  equality.  The  system  was  obviously  well  calculated 
to  unite  the  conq^erors  in  a  vigorous  and  powerful  corps,  com- 
pletely subject  to  the  sultan,  who  bestowed  these  tiroars  at 
pleasure,  and  resumed  them  again  after  the  expiration  of  a 
certain  period,  while,  according  to  the  system  of  Western  Eu* 
rope,  fiefe,  when  they  were  given  to  vassals,  were  generally 


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296  Turkey.  [Oct 

altogether  lost  to  the  government.  The  Turkish  system  ap- 
pears to  have  been  the  more  equitable  of  the  two,  as  the 
tiniars,  instead  of  being  inherited,  were  distributed  as  the  re* 
compense  of  merit.  But  it  was  the  feudal  system  of  the  West 
to  which  we  owe  the  enlightened  freedom  of  modem  times, 
which  arose  from  the  conflicts  between  the  interests  of  differ- 
ent classes  of  society,  placed,  by  the  natural  operation  of  that 
system,  in  a  state  of  direct  and  perpetual  hostility  to  each 
other,  and  from  the  formation  and  growth  of  cities,  the  im- 
mediate results  of  those  conflicts.  Liberty,  as  it  exists  among 
us,  was  entirely  unknown  to  the  ancients.  They  saw  in  the 
individual  only  a  servant  of  the  state,  while  we  consider  the 
freedom  and  happiness  of  the  individual,  as  the  purpose  for 
which  the  state  was  instituted.  The  system  of  the  Ottomans, 
recognising  no  order  of  nobility,  conferring  no  permanent 
privileges,  and  regarding  all  as  equal,  has  been  correctly  de- 
scribed by  an  ingenious  Frenchman,  as  '  un  despotisme  absolu 
modere  par  la  regicide. 

But  there  existed  among  the  Turks  an  institution  still  more 
important,  which  may  be  denominated  an  organised  system  of 
slavery.  The  whole  country  was  traversed  once  in  five  years 
by  small  bodies  of  soldiers,  each  of  whom  was  provided  with 
VL  firman,  or  decree  of  the  sultan.  The  commanders  of  these 
bodies  were  empowered  to  summon  together  the  whole  male 
population  of  every  place  which  was  inhabited  wholly,  or  in 
part,  by  Christians;  and  to  carry  away  every  individual  of 
whatever  age,  who  should  appear  to  be  at  all  remarkable  for 
strength  or  beauty,  or  proficiency  or  skill  in  any  art.  These, 
together  with  prisoners  of  war,  were  sent  to  the  court  of  the 
Grand  Seignor.  No  pacha  returned  from  any  expedition, 
without  bringing  a  present  for  the  sultan  of  handsome  Christian 
boys,  who,  though  they  were  for  the  most  part  natives  of  those 
originally  Christian  countries,  which  had  been  conquered  by 
the  Turks,  were  sometimes  brought  from  Poland,  Bohemia, 
Russia,  Italy,  and  Germany.  The  individuals  thus  collected 
were  divided  into  two  classes.  Those  who  belonged  to  one  of 
these  classes  were  educated  by  the  peasants  of  Asia  Minor  in 
the  Mahometan  faith,  or  employed  as  menial  servants  in  the 
sultan's  seraglio ;  while  the  members  of  the  other  class,  which 
consisted  of  the  most  promising,  were  placed  in  the  seraglios 
of  Adrianople,  Galata,  and  Constantinople,  where  they  were 
taught  to  read  and  write  by  teachers,  whose  compensation 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Turkey.  297 

amounted  to  eight  aspers  (about  six  cents)  a  day.  If  public 
education  be  valuable  in  proportion  to  its  cheapness,  nothing 
can  be  more  meritorious  than  the  Turkish  system  of  instruc- 
tion. 

At  a  certain  age,  these  youths,  for  they  were  generally  such, 
were  circumcised,  which  ceremony  being  performed,  those 
who  had  been  engaged  in  menial  occupations  were  enrolled  as 
Janissaries,  and  those,  who  were  educated  in  the  seraglio,  were 
made  sipahis :  not,  however,  sipahis  with  a  fief,  but  of  that 
number,  who  were  paid  by  the  sultan,  and  attended  him  as  a 
mounted  body-guard.  The  latter  were  sometimes  elevated  to 
the  highest  offices  of  the  government. 

The  members  of  both  these  classes  were  subjected  to  the 
severest  discipline.  It  is  stated  in  a  relazione  of  Sorranzo, 
that  the  menial  class  were  instructed  in  all  military  arts,  and 
taught  to  endure  the  extremity  of  abstinence  and  privation. 
At  night,  they  slept  together  in  a  long  lighted  hall,  where  they 
were  watched  by  a  vigilant  inspector,  who  hardly  permiiled 
them  to  move.  At  a  later  period,  when  they  were  enrolled  as 
Janissaries,  they  were  lodged  in  barracks  resembling  convents. 
They  were  there  arranged  in  separate  odas,  and  cooked,  ate, 
and  slept  together  :  in  fact,  most  of  their  military  dignities  re- 
ceived their  appellations  from  the  kitchen  and  its  dishes. 
Here,  no  law  was  recognised,  but  that  of  subordination  and 
obedience.  All  were  subjected  to  the  strictest  regulations, 
and  the  younger  were  compelled  to  respect  and  serve  the 
elder.  No  one  was  ever  permitted  to  pass  the  night  without 
the  barracks,  and  whenever  corporal  punishment  was  resorted 
to,  the  suflFerer  was  required,  with  his  head  veiled,  to  kiss  the 
hand  of  him,  who  inflicted  it. 

Those,  who  remained  in  the  seraglio,  were  divided  into 
classes  under  the  control  of  eunuchs.  Each  of  these  classes 
was  composed  of  ten  members,  who  were  regularly  instructed 
in  science  and  in  military  exercises  for  the  term  of  three 
years,  at  tlie  expiration  of  which  they  were  permitted  by  the 
sultan  to  leave  the  seraglio.  If  they  preferred  to  remain  there, 
they  were  gradually  advanced  from  chamber  to  chamber,  ac- 
cording to  their  respective  ages,  until  they  attained  perhaps 
one  of  the  four  higher  offices  of  the  inner  chamber,  from 
which  station  they  might  be  promoted  to  the  rank  of  a  begler- 
•beg,  a  capitan-deiri  (admiral),  or  a  vizier.  Those,  who  chose 
to  leave  the  seraglio,  were  admitted  as  members  of  one  of  the 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


Turkey.  [Oet 

four  highest  classes  of  the  paid  sipahi,  and  might  be  seen  gal- 
loping out  of  the  city,  exulting  in  their  new  dresses,  and  gaily 
swinging  the  purses,  which  they  had  received  from  the  sultan. 
It  will  hence  be  perceived,  that  die  institution  of  the  Janis- 
saries was  only  a  part  of  a  well-organised  system  of  slavery, 
which  answered  perfectly  the  purposes  for  which  it  was  de- 
signed. All  the  rdazioni  agree  in  extolling  their  valor,  terns' 
perance,  and  admirable  discipline.  Busbeck,  the  Austrian 
ambassador  at  the  court  of  Solyman,  remarks,  that  they  ap- 
peared to  him  sometimes  to  resemble  monks,  and  sometimes 
statues ;  and  that  their  dress,  with  the  exception  of  the  plume 
of  heron's  feathers,  was  extremely  simple.  Native  Turks 
were  uniformly  excluded  from  their  ranks,  as  was  the  case 
with  all  others,  who  had  been  brought  up  under  the  parental 
roof.  By  means  of  this  singular  institution.  Christian  boys, 
taken  forcibly  from  their  homes,  or  from  convents  and  taverns, 
were  raised  to  the  highest  dignities  of  a  vast  empire,  while  it 
served  at  the  same  time  as  a  school  of  education  for  those  soU 
diers,  on  whom  the  sultan  always  placed  his  principal  reliance. 
Many  victories  were  gained  by  their  unaided  exertions,  and 
but  for  them  the  batde  of  Varna,  which  laid  the  foundation  of 
the  Ottoman  greatness,  must  have  been  lost.  They  were  ac- 
customed to  boast,  that  they  had  never  been  defeated,  and 
Lazarus  Schwendi,  a  German  commander,  who  made  several 
campaigns  against  the  Turks,  confirms  the  truth  of  this  asser- 
tion. Nor  were  the  effects  of  the  system  less  striking  in  re- 
gard to  the  dipahisj  and  the  other  portion  of  those,  who  had 
been  educated  in  the  seraglio,  and  who  were  subsequendy  em^ 
ployed  in  civil  offices.  A  single  instance  only,  that  of  the  no^ 
ble  Scanderbeg,  occurred  of  the  return  of  any  of  their  number 
to  the  Christian  faith.  The  Janissaries  elected  their  Aga  from 
their  own  ranks.  There  was  no  order  of  nobility  to  control 
their  ambition,  and  prevent  them  from  receiving  the  advance- 
ment due  to  their  enterprise  and  valor.  A  field  of  action  was 
thrown  open  to  all ;  and  they  ceased  to  remember  that  they 
were  merely  slaves.  It  was  by  no  means  rare  for  Christians 
to  forsake  their  own  country  and  religion,  in  order  to  become 
slaves  with  them.  Even  the  sultan,  their  absolute  and  only 
master,  was  not  entirely  independent  of  their  will.  Not  even 
the  son  of  a  vizier,  who  had  just  been  promoted  from  their 
ranks  to  that  exalted  station,  could  be  added  to  their  number. 
The  sons  of  the  sipahis  and  officers  of  government,^ — for  the 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Turkey.  299 

Janissaries  were  not  allowed  to  marry  until  a  later  period,^ — ^were 
compelled  to  enter  the  fifth  and  sixth  divisions  of  the  paid 
sipahi,  or  were  made  timarli,  among  whom,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  the  territory  of  the  whole  empire  was  divided.  This 
corps  of  vassals  was  thus  constantly  recruited  witli  new  mem- 
bers, more  deeply  indebted,  and  consequently  more  devoted  to 
the  sultan,  than  the  sons  of  timarli  could  have  been. 

We  have  thus  attempted  to  describe  a  most  singular  institu- 
tion, by  means  of  which  the  support  and  defence  of  a  vast 
empire  was  made  to  depend  wholly  upon  foreigners  and  slaves^ 
so  enamored,  notwithstanding,  witli  their  condition,  as  to  fight 
with  the  utmost  readiness  and  fury  against  their  own  country- 
men. 

The  whole  power  of  the  Ottoman  empire  accordingly  was 
vested  in  two  bodies ;  first,  in  the  timarli,  who  were  native 
vassals  of  the  sultan  ;  and  secondly,  in  those  slaves,  of  whom 
the  greater  portion  constituted  the  flower  of  the  Turkish  army, 
while  the  rest  were  employed  in  the  capacity  of  civil  or  milita- 
ry officers.  The  very  existence  of  both  these  bodies  depended 
altogether  upon  a  state  of  war.  During  peace,  the  sultan 
could  bestow  no  new  timars,  and  the  corps  of  Janissaries  were 
ill  danger  of  sinking  into  degeneracy.  It  was  war,  therefore, 
which  laid  the  foundation  of  the  Turkish  power,  and  it  was  by 
war  only,  that  this  power  could  be  preserved.  Nor  was  it  less 
essential  to  the  sultan's  personal  security,  whose  vassals  must 
otherwise  have  aspired  to  independence  of  their  master.  In 
fact,  so  dioroughly  martial  were  the  Turks,  that  the  camp  ap- 
peai-ed  to  be  their  home  ;  and  at  the  period  of  their  greatness, 
it  is  said  to  have  presented  a  most  imposing  spectacle.  Every 
thing  was  kept  in  a  state  of  remarkable  cleanliness  and  perfect 
order :  neither  swearing,  quarrelling,  drinking,  nor  gambling 
was  permitted.  Every  sipahi  was  furnished  with  a  tent.  A 
horse  was  provided  by  the  sultan  to  convey  the  baggage  of 
every  five  Janissaries,  and  a  common  tent  for  the  accommoda- 
tion of  every  twenty-five.  Their  arrangement,  discipline,  and 
mode  of  living  were  as  simple  and  rigorous  in  the  camp  as  in 
the  barrack,  while  the  camp  abounded  with  gold  and  silver, 
precious  stones,  splendid  arms,  the  finest  horses,  and  eunuchs. 
What  a  contrast  to  the  turbulent  and  unmly  mass  of  a  feudal 
levy! 

This  warlike  propensity  was  also  cherished  and  confirmed 
by  the  Mahometan  doctrine  of  predestmation ;  while  the  pro- 


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800  Turkey.  [Oct 

hibition  of  the  use  of  wine  and  ardent  spirits,  and  the  injunc- 
tion of  frequent  bathing  and  ablutions  were  highly  favorable  to 
a  military  life.  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  that  the  Christians  are 
uniformly  called  citizens  and  the  Turks  askeri  (soldiers),  when 
both  are  mentioned  in  the  national  decrees.  In  a  system  like 
this,  which  was  exclusively  military,  and  destitute  of  any  com- 
mon principle  of  union,  it  was  also  indispensable,  that  the  sul- 
tan, the  snul  and  centre  of  the  whole,  should  himself  be  ani- 
mated by  a  warlike  spirit,  and  we  find  accordingly,  that  the 
power  of  the  Ottoman  empire  began  rapidly  to  decline,  when 
the  sulians  ceased  to  be  soldiers,  and  the  situation  of  the  neigh- 
boring countries  rendered  conquest  no  longer  possible. 

The  same  circumstances  then,  to  which  the  greatness  of  the 
Ottoman  empire  is  to  be  attributed,  became  subsequently  the 
immediate  causes  of  its  decline.  The  influence  of  tlie  Ma- 
hometan religion  has  been  sometimes  included  among  these 
causes.  We  are  far  from  believing,  that  this  religion  is  posi- 
tively favorable  to  the  progress  of  civilisation  ;  nor  do  we  con- 
ceive that  it  tends  directly  to  obstruct  it.  It  would  be  unfair 
to  judge  of  the  character  of  Mahometanism,  from  the  exhibi- 
tion of  it,  as  it  appears  at  this  day,  among  the  different  nations 
of  the  east.  The  time  has  been,  when  the  attainments  of  the 
followers  of  Mahomet  in  art  and  science  were  far  greater  than 
those  of  Christians,  and  when  tlie  personal  character  of  the 
former  was  by  far  the  most  chivalrous  and  elevated.  We  al- 
lude to  the  Arabians  of  the  middle  ages.  The  Turks,  from 
whom  our  ideas  of  Mahometanism  are  commonly  derived, 
were  long  regarded  even  by  other  Mahometans  as  a  rude  and 
uncivilised  tribe.  The  union  of  a  civil  code  with  the  rules  of 
religious  faith  in  the  Koran,  is  undoubtedly  of  pernicious  ten- 
dency ;  and  we  know,  that  this  religion  has  often  been  employ- 
ed as  an  instrument  to  excite  its  followers  to  unjust  and  unne- 
cessary war.  In  the  Trumpet  of  the  Holy  War,  to  which  we 
have  already  adverted,  it  is  enjoined,  that  infidels  must  either 
be  converted  or  subdued  ;  and  that,  where  they  are  obstinate 
in  heresy,  their  extirpation  is  an  act  of  holiness,  which  deserves 
the  most  exalted  recompense  in  heaven.  Thb  book,  however, 
is  not,  like  the  Koran,  regarded  as  of  divine  authority  and  ori- 
gin. It  was  translated  into  the  Turkish  language  by  order  of 
Solyman  II.  for  the  use  probably  of  the  youth  in  his  seraglio. 
The  same  sultan  promulgated  a  code,  called  multeka^  very 
similar  to  some  of  the  papal  bulls,  in  which  war  is  earnestly 
recommended  agamst  all  unbelievers. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Turkey.  301 

la  proceeding  to  give  an  account  of  the  decline  of  the  Ot- 
toman empire,  we  shall  in  the  first  place  speak  of  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Sultans.  The  contrast  between  the  predecessors 
and  successors  of  Solyman  has  been  often  noticed.  Prior  to 
his  reign,  the  Ottomans  were  animated  by  a  spirit  so  gallant 
and  chivalrous,  that  we  read  their  history  with  ieelings  of  ad- 
miration, rather  than  disgust ;  but  the  scene  is  suddenly  and 
completely  changed.  The  Sultans  became  indolent  and  volup- 
tuous; mternal  discord  followed;  sons  rebelled  against  tlieir 
fathers ;  defeats  were  sustained  on  the  fix>ntiers  and  at  sea ; 
and  the  weakness  of  the  whole  system  was  at  once  revealed, 
when  its  rulers  became  incompetent  to  its  direction  and  con- 
trol. We  will  mention  some  particulars  of^the  history  of 
Selim  II.,  the  successor  of  Solyman,  as  an  illustration  of  the 
remark,  both  because  his  example  was  imitated  by  many  suc- 
ceeding Sultans,  and  because  several  essential  innovations  were 
accomplished  during  his  reign.  Among  these  changes  there 
was  one  of  great  importance.  It  might  appear  that  the  harem 
would  destroy  the  warlike  spirit  of  its  master,  but  its  volup- 
tuousness is  not  very  likely  to  attach  men  to  domestic  life. 
According  to  an  ancient  custom,  the  mother  of  the  sultan's 
first-born  son  was  entitled  to  the  highest  rank  among  the  fe- 
males of  the  harem.  Solyman  thought  proper  to  violate  this 
usage,  by  marrying  a  slave  named  Roxalana  ;  and  a  singular 
narrative  of  this  event  is  contained  in  a  letter  of  the  French 
ambassador  Codignac.  He  tells  us,  that  Roxalana  was  anx- 
ious to  build  a  mosque  for  the  salvation  of  her  soul,  but  it  was 
declared  by  the  Mufti  (chief-priest),  that  the  pious  acts  of  a 
slave  operated  only  for  the  spiritual  benefit  of  the  master.  To 
gratify  her  wishes,  Solyman  emancipated  her ;  but  the  fi'ee 
Roxalana  being  somewhat  less  submissive  to  his  passion  than 
before,  and  the  fetva  of  the  Mufti  having  determmed  that  she 
could  not  become  so  without  sin,  he  at  lengtli  married  her  and 
settled  upon  her  a  pension  of  five  thousand  sultanas.  The 
ambition  of  the  lady  was  not  yet  satisfied ;  for  she  instantly  re- 
quested Solyman  to  appoint  her  son  Selim  his  successor,  to  the 
exclusion  of  Mustapha,  his  elder  son  by  a  different  mother, 
who  was  much  esteemed  by  the  Turks.  Upon  receiving  in- 
formation of  this,  Mustapha  withdrew  from  Constantinople ; 
but  was  immediately  denounced  as  a  rebel  by  his  father,  who 
pursued  him  into  Asia,  and  ordered  that  he  should  be  put  to 
death.     Bajazet,  a  son  of  Roxalana,  fell  also  by  the  hand  of 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  69,  i39 


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302  Turkey.  [Oct 

Solyman's  execatioDer,  according  to  a  Turkidi  cusUnn,  which 
requires  that  all  the  suhan's  younger  brothers  must  be  destroyed, 
when  he  ascends  the  throne.  SLoxalana's  projects  of  ambition 
were  accomplished;  and  her  son  Selim  was  the  first  in  the 
series  of  inefficient  and  degenerate  sultans. 

Durbg  the  reign  of  Solyman  a  law  was  abrogated,  whidi 
exempted  the  Janissaries  from  the  perf^mance  of  active  mi£- 
tary  duty,  except  when  they  were  commanded  by  the  suhan 
in  person.  The  effect  of  this  change  became  very  obvious  in 
the  reign  of  Selim.  Formerly,  the  sons  of  the  sultan  accom- 
panied their  father  to  the  field,  or  were  intrusted  with  the  con- 
duct of  military  operations ;  and  some  of  the  most  important 
conquests  had  J^n  effected  by  their  abili^  and  valor.  From 
this  period,  they  were  bani^d  fir(»n  the  court  and  the  camp, 
and  placed  under  the  chaise  of  a  pacha  in  some  remote  prov- 
ince, until  at  last  they  were  actually  confined  m  prison,  until 
the  very  hour  of  their  accession  to  die  throne.  The  supreme 
command  must  then  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  an  individual, 
who  had  been  during  his  life  deprived  of  personal  liberty,  and 
who,  when  suddenly  elevated  to  the  absolute  command  of  Bul- 
lions of  men,  must  have  been  intoxicated  by  the  poasesnon  of 
unrestricted  power. 

In  the  beginning  of  his  reign,  Amurath  IQ,,  the  son  of  Se- 
lim^  appeared  to  be  studious,  temperate,  and  manly,  and  not 
averse  to  the  hardships  of  a  military  life.     The  following  story 
is  related  of  this  prince,  in  one  of  the  rdazioni.     It  has  been 
already  mentioned,  that   a  custom   of   the  Turks  required 
every  sultan,  when  he  first  assumed  that  dignity,  to  put  his 
brothers   to   death.     This   usage  was  not  of   very   ancieM 
date ;   since  the  brotliers  of  Osman  are  known  to  have  ac* 
companied  him  to  the  field.     Amurath,  being  of  a  mild  and 
mercifiil  disposition,  was  anxious  to  provide  for  the  safety  of 
his  brothers  before  taking  possession  of  the  throne ;  and  with 
this  view  consulted  with  his  JUt^Sm,  his  Mufti,  and  other  learned 
men.     So  persuaded  were  they,  however,  of  the  necessity  of 
the  sacrifice,  that  his  arguments  were  wholly  inefiectual  ;  and 
he  jrielded  only  after  he  had  disputed  with  them  on  the  subject 
for  the  space  of  eighteen  hours.    He  then  summoned  die  chief 
of  the  mutes,  and,  pointing  to  the  corpse  of  his  fether,  gave 
him  nine  handkerchief  for  the  purpose  of  strangling  all  his 
brothers.    As  he  delivered  them  he  wept.    It  is  fardier  related 
of  him,  that  he  once  inquired,  after  the  history  of  his  father  had 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Turkey.  303 

been  read  in  bis  presence,  what  war  would  be  attended  with 
the  greatest  difficuhy  ?  '  War  with  Persia,'  was  the  reply. 
*  That,'  then  rejoined  Amurath,  ^  is  the  war,  which  I  shaJl  un- 
dertake.' But  the  character  of  this  monarch  underwent  sub- 
sequently an  entire  change.  He  soon  began  to  betray  a  strong 
aversion  for  warlike  exercises  and  the  chase.  The  strength 
of  his  ruling  passions,  avarice  and  voluptuousness,  were  de<» 
veloped  in  the  seclusion  of  his  palace,  where  he  lived  sur- 
rounded only  by  his  mutes,  dwarfs  and  eunuchs.  By  the  in- 
dulgence of  the  last  of  these  passions,  he  destroyed  his  health  \ 
and  in  regard  to  the  degree  in  which  he  was  governed  by  the 
other,  it  is  said  by  some  of  the  European  ambassadors,  that  he 
caused  a  subterraneous  cell  of  marble  to  be  constructed,  in 
whi(^  he  annually  buried  two  millions  and  a  half  of  piastres ; 
and  that  he  melted  and  coined  the  golden  ornaments  of  ancient 
works  of  art,  in  order  to  deposit  them  in  the  same  cell,  the 
door  of  which  was  concealed  by  his  bed.  Offices  beoame 
venal ;  and  nothing  but  liberal  presents  could  secure  his  favor. 
When  his  audiences  were  concluded,  at  which  those  who 
brought  him  the  most  magnificent  gifts  were  noticed  only  by 
an  imiolent  nod,  it  was  his  custom  to  retire  to  his  gardens, 
where  his  principal  amusements  were  mock  batdes  with  his 
deformed  mutes,  smging  or  dancing  women,  or  lascivious  com- 
edies performed  by  Jews. 

Ahmed,  who  was  a  sultan  of  manly  and  benevolent  charac- 
ter, began  to  reign  m  1603,  in  the  sixteenth  year  of  his  age. 
Though  his  ambition  appeavad  to  have  been  excited  by  the 
achievements  of  Solyman,  he  effected  no  enterprises  of  a  war- 
like character.  In  fact,  no  occupation,  or  pleasure,  had  power 
to  fix  his  attention  long,  and  none  of  his  many  plans  were 
ever  completely  executed.  His  successors,  with  the  single 
exception  of  Amurath  FV.,  were  men  of  inferior  capacity. 
That  sukan  at  first  gave  much  promise  of  talent  and  strength 
of  character,  but  subsequently  became  stem  and  cruel.  In 
the  space  of  five  years,  twenty-five  thousand  persons  were  put 
to  death  by  his  order,  or  with  his  own  hand.  He  attempted 
to  restore  the  discipline  and  e^iency  of  the  Janissaries,  who 
had  lost  much  of  their  former  superiority ;  but  his  exertions 
were  ineffectual ;  while,  by  allowing  to  Mussulmans  the  use  of 
vrine,  besides  violadng  a  positive  injunction  of  the  Koran,  he 
encouraged  disorder  and  licentiousness  among  a  people,  who 
oould  be  controlled  only  by  rigorous  laws. 


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304  Turkey.  [Oct 

The  Vtzin^oBam^  or  Grand  Vizier,  who  was  in  reality,  as 
he  was  sometimes  denominated,  master  of  the  empire,  occa- 
sionally supplied  by  his  talent  and  vigor  the  want  of  those 
qualities  in  the  sultan.  During  the  reign  of  Selim,  the  gov- 
ernment was  administered  by  Mehmed,  by  birth  a  Bosnian. 
This  most  able  and  excellent  Grrand  Vizier  received  the  rudi- 
ments of  early  education  in  the  family  of  his  uncle,  a  christian 
clergyman  of  Java,  but  was  placed  while  still  young  in  the 
seraglio  of  the  Grand  Seignior,  where  he  was  brought  up  ac- 
cording to  the  rules  of  the  institution,  an  account  of  which  has 
been  already  given,  until  he  was  preferred  at  length  to  the 
highest  offices  of  the  empire.  The  ambassadors  have  uni- 
formly described  him  as  active,  just  and  liberal,  averse  to 
revenge  and  avarice,  and  not  at  all  inclined  to  abuse  his  un- 
bounded power.  His  decisions  were  always  prompt  and  im- 
partial, and  the  very  meanest  individual  found  as  ready  access 
to  him,  and  as  quick  redress  of  his  grievances,  as  the  most 
exalted.  Four  days  in  the  week  he  held  a  public  divan  for 
this  purpose.  He  caused  aqueducts,  bridges,  and  public  baths 
to  be  constructed  in  every  part  of  the  empire ;  and  was  par- 
ticularly attentive  to  the  establishment  of  caravansaries,  where 
food  was  gratuitously  provided  for  the  weary  traveller.  From 
the  fear  of  exciting  the  Sultan's  jealousy,  he  erected  no  edifice 
in  Constantinople,  excepting  a  small  mosque,  in  which  his 
twelve  children,  who  were  put  to  death  because  their  father 
was  the  son-in-law  of  Selim,  were  buried.  His  power  was 
limited  by  Amurath  III.,  the  suecessor  of  Selim,  in  order  to 
favor  the  viziers  of  the  Cupula^  who  were  subordinate  to  the 
Veziri-Aasam ;  but  he  succeeded  in  preserving  the  favor  of 
three  Sultans,  until  at  length  he  was  assassinated  by  a  timarli, 
whom  he  had  for  some  good  reason  doubtless  deprived  of  his 
timar.  With  him,  says  Floriani,  the  virtue  of  the  Turks  was 
extinguished  forever.  The  viziers  became  no  less  degenerate 
than  the  Sultans ;  and  even  those  of  benevolent  disposition 
were  compelled  to  sacrifice  their  good  intentions  to  the  caprice 
and  avarice  of  their  masters.  Sinan,  one  of  the  viziers  of 
Amurath,  would  sometimes  present  him  with  two  hundred 
thousand  zekins  in  order  to  secure  his  favor,  while  the  Capudan 
Cicala  openly  declared,  that  he  was  compelled  to  resort  to  piracy, 
to  find  the  means  of  making  similar  presents.  The  vizier  was 
no  longer  selected  only  from  among  the  slaves  of  the  seraglio. 
Great  calamities  were  also  brought  upon  the  people  by  the 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Turkey.  306 

frequent  change  of  these  officers.  Extortion  appeared  to 
constitute  their  sole  qualification.  In  fact,  the  whole  system  of 
government  became  little  better  than  a  vast  system  of  extor- 
tion. Regardless  of  the  proper  business  of  their  office,  the 
viziers  lived  in  a  style  of  luxury  and  splendor  scarcely  sur- 
passed by  that  of  their  masters  ;  and  their  example  was  speed- 
ily imitated  by  all  the  inferior  officers  of  the  empire.  All  the 
true  objects  of  government  were  utterly  neglected.  The  name 
of  ruler  had  no  other  meaning  than  that  of  a  robber  and  dis- 
turber of  the  peace.  Factions  arose  within  the  very  walls  of 
the  seraglio  ;  and  the  Kislar-Aga,  chief  of  the  black  eunuchs, 
became  a  personage  of  great  influence  and  dignity.  In  the 
mean  time,  the  changes  of  the  viziers  became  more  and  more 
frequent ;  for  nothing  more  was  required  for  their  removal, 
than  to  send  the  executioner  to  them  with  a  cord^ — an  intima- 
tion, upon  receiving  which,  it  was  the  duty  of  the  individual  to 
whom  it  was  addressed,  forthwith  to  hang  himself.  This  sum- 
mary process  was  the  approved  Turkish  method  of  reform. 

So  long  as  their  ancient  customs  underwent  no  change,  the 
Janissaries  were  almost  invincible ;  but  they  also  participated 
in  the  universal  spirit  of  degeneracy,  and  became  turbulent  and 
ungovernable.  About  the  time  of  Selim's  accession,  Mehmed, 
the  Grand  Vizier  just  mentioned,  had  obtained  possession  of 
Sigeth,  a  small  fortress  in  Hungary ;  but  having  refused  to  al- 
low the  Janissaries  the  present,  which  was  usually  given  when 
a  new  sultan  was  girded  with  the  sword  of  Osman,  they  de- 
serted him,  and  hurried  back  to  Constantinople  in  a  state  of 
great  disorder.  They  reached  the  city  before  Selim  had  ar- 
rived from  Asia,  and  declared  that  the  Sultan  should  not  be 
permitted  to  enter  the  seraglio,  until  they  should  receive  in  ad- 
dition to  the  customary  present,  a  promise  of  increased  pay, 
and  permission  to  enrol  their  sons  as  members  of  their  body. 
All  efibrts  of  the  viziers  to  induce  them  to  return  to  their  duty, 
were  wholly  unavailing.  In  vain  did  their  Aga  throw  himself 
into  the  midst  of  them,  with  the  handkerchief,  the  instrument 
of  execution,  bound  upon  his  head.  The  gates  of  the  seraglio 
were  not  opened,  until  all  their  requisitions  had  been  complied 
with.  This  was  the  first  in  the  series  of  those  revolts  and 
massacres  of  the  Janissaries,  by  which  so  many  Sultans  subse- 
quently perished.  Thenceforth,  like  the  praetorian  guards  of 
Rome,  they  became  the  absolute  controllers  of  the  succession 
to  the  throne.     The  sword  of  Osman  had  hitherto  descended 


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306  Turkey.  [Oct. 

regularly  from  father  to  son ;  but  they  chose  to  confer  the 
sovereignty  on  Must^ha,  the  brother  of  Ahmed,  whose  life 
bad  been  spared  by  the  latter,  because,  being  an  idiot,  he  was 
regarded  among  the  Turks  as  an  oracle.  Sbordy  after,  they 
deposed  Mustapha  and  called  Osman,  Ahmed's  son,  to  fill  the 
vacant  thr<Hie  ;  but  being  soon  dissatbfied  with  their  new  Sul- 
tan, they  dragged  Mustapha,  who  had  been  confined  in  a  sub- 
terraneous cavern,  forth  again  to  light,  and  at  once  restored 
him  to  his  former  dignity.  But  this  strange  ruler  was  destined 
to  experience  a  repetition  of  his  former  disaster ;  being  de* 
posed  a  second  time,  and  compelled  to  surrender  his  authority 
to  Amurath  IV.,  the  second  son  of  Ahmed,  who  succeeded  in 
setting  his  benefactors  at  defiance  by  his  relentless  cruelty,  and 
by  the  murder  of  their  chief.  As  a  military  corps,  however, 
the  Janissaries  were  at  this  time  far  less  efficient  and  powerful 
than  at  any  former  period.  In  addition  to  the  change  of  their 
ancient  customs,  to  which  we  have  already  adverted,  they 
were  permitted  by  Ahmed  to  engage  in  commerce  and  the 
mechanical  arts ;  until  at  length  they  became  the  laughing- 
stock of  Christian  armies.  The  forcible  capture,  of  Christian 
boys  was  abandoned  as  early  as  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  very  fortunately  for  the  Greeks,  whose  struggle  for  in- 
dependence must  have  been  delayed  much  longer,  if  their 
finest  youth  had  continued  to  be  torn  from  them  and  placed  in 
the  seraglio. 

Native  Turks  began  now  to  be  admitted  to  the  highest  dig- 
nities, and  the  habit  of  blind  obedience  was  gradually  aban- 
doned. Every  subject  is  supposed  to  be  the  slave  of  the 
sultan ;  but  there  is  a  wide  differ^ice  between  the  subjection 
of  a  native  Turk,  and  of  a  pupil  of  the  seraglio.  The  sipahi, 
after  the  admission  of  the  Turks  into  their  ranks,  became  like 
the  Janissaries,  turbulent  and  factious.  In  1589,  they  com- 
pelled the  Grand  Seignior  to  reinstate  Sinan,  who  had  just  been 
deposed  in  the  office  of  Grand  Vizier.  Nor  was  the  degeneracy 
of  the  timarli  less  rapid  in  its  progress.  The  timars,  which 
had  been  origbaUy  granted  to  the  sons  of  sipahi  only,  were 
bestowed  upon  many  others.  Like  the  sultans,  pachas  and 
sandgiacks  gave  them  to  their  favorites,  or  sold  them  to  the 
highest  bidder.  The  obligation  to  maintain  a  certain  number  of 
horsemen,  and  to  exercise  themselves  in  the  use  of  arms,  was 
entirely  disregarded.  Ami,  a  feudal  officer  of  Ahmed,  com- 
plained most  bitterly  of  these  abuses.    He  declared,  that  reviews 


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1830.]  Turkey.  307 

of  the  sipahi  were  abandoned ;  that  a  sandgiack,  bound  to  main- 
tain a  hundred  horsemen,  actually  mamtained  hardly  fifteen ; 
and  that  no  more  than  a  tenth  part  of  the  enrolled  number, 
ever  made  their  appearance.  In  the  reign  of  Selim  II.,  Nasut, 
his  Grand  Vizier,  fell  into  disgrace  in  consequence  of  his  e&rts 
to  reform  these  abuses.  They  were  in  the  first  instance  owing 
to  an  innovation  made  by  Solyman,  in  bestowing  timars  upon 
the  sons  of  foreigners.  All  these  difi^rent  institutions  had  been 
formerly  kept  separate  with  the  greatest  care,  and  when  this 
ceased  to  be  the  case,  they  soon  lost  all  their  efiiciency  and 
character. 

We  have  thus  given  a  brief  sketch  of  the  decay  of  those 
institutions,  on  wUch  the  greatness  of  the  Ottoman  empire 
was  founded ;  and  singular  as  the  fact  may  appear,  this  de- 
clme  may  be  traced  as  far  back  as  the  reign  of  Solyman, 
whose  power  exceeded  that  of  any  other  contemporary 
sovereign.  It  was  then  that  the  women  of  the  bnrem  first 
began  to  exert  an  influence  in  the  management  of  public  af- 
fairs. It  was  by  his  appointment,  that  2ie  sceptre  passed  at 
his  death  into  the  hands  of  the  least  efficient  of  his  sons.  The 
changes  made  by  him  in  the  feudal  system  were  important  and 
numerous.  With  his  reign,  the  progress  of  Ottoman  conquest 
was  arrested.  He  had  already  carried  his  victorious  arms  into 
Persia  in  the  East,  and  as  far  as  Vienna  in  the  West ;  and  the 
valor  of  Barbarossa  had  rendered  him  master  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean. But  a  sad  reverse  awaited  his  successors.  The 
Persians,  thoueh  far  inferior  in  power  and  numbers,  supplied 
their  defect  of  power  by  their  veneration  for  the  Shah ;  and 
resorted  against  the  Turks  to  the  same  experiment  of  laying 
waste  their  country  before  the  enemy,  which  has  more  recently 
been  empbyed  by  the  Russians  against  a  modem  deqxjt, 
while  in  the  West,  the  advances  of  the  Ottomans  were  checked 
by  the  energy  and  vigor  of  the  House  of  Hapsburg.  Their 
attempts  to  capture  Malta  were  unavailing.  It  cost  them  pro- 
digious efifortsto  reduce  a  few  small  pasties  in  the  Austrian  part 
of  Hungary ;  and  their  maritime  power  was  broken  by  the 
defeat  which  they  sustained  at  Lepanto  in  1591,  a  blow  fi*om 
which  their  navy  has  never  yet  recovered. 

It  was  the  natural  effect  of  the  institutions  which  we  have 
mentioned,  that  the  Turks  remained  a  peculiar  people,  dis- 
tinct and  separate  firom  the  inhabitants  of  the  countries,  which 
they  overran.     In  fact,  they  were  never  really  established  in 


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808  Turkey.  [Oct 

those  countries,  as  the  Germans  were  in  Courland,  or  the  Nor- 
mans in  Great  Britain ;  but  resembled  rather  a  garrison,  or  an 
army  of  occupation.  Far  from  imitating  the  industry  of  those 
countries,  they  endeavored  to  destroy  it.  Instead  of  advancing 
in  civilisation  themselves,  they  obstructed  the  progress  of  every 
subject  nation.  They  of  course  experienced  no  sympathy  or 
support.  They  were  regarded  only  in  the  light  of  inexorable 
and  oppressive  masters  ;  and  they  were  secure  only  so  long,  as 
the  oppressed  could  find  no  means  of  effectual  resistance  ;  so 
long  only,  as  they  continued  to  be  united,  well-disciplined  and 
vigilant.  Neither  the  constitution  of  tlie  empire,  nor  the  char- 
acter of  the  Turks,  were  at  all  favorable  to  the  progress  of 
civilisation,  even  among  themselves.  It  is  true,  that  they  have 
been  frequently  pronounced  by  travellers,  among  the  rest  by 
Lord  Byron,  to  be  better  than  the  Greeks ;  and  we  have  some 
personal  knowledge  of  the  correctness  of  this  assertion.  Nor 
is  this  surprising.  Where  oppression  has  been  long-continued 
and  severe,  the  spirit  of  the  master  is  always  loftier  and  more 
generous  than  that  of  the  slave. 

We  intended  only  to  give  a  brief  outline  of  the  causes  of  the 
decline  of  the  Ottoman  empire  ;  and  the  task  would  be  by  no 
means  uninteresting  of  tracing  the  history  of  that  decline 
down  to  the  period,  when  the  present  Sultan  Mahmud  U.,  at- 
tempted to  introduce  many  European  improvements  and  modes 
of  organisation.  The  corps  of  Janissaries,  as  is  well  known, 
was  dissolved  if  not  destroyed  by  him  in  1826.  What  would 
have  been  the  natural  e&cXs  of  this  measure,  it  is  useless  now 
to  conjecture.  This  fact  at  least  is  certain,  that  the  Turks 
were  never  less  powerful  than  at  the  moment  of  the  late  inva- 
sion ;  and  their  imbecility  appeared  so  much  the  more  striking, 
from  having  been  previously  in  a  great  measure  concealed  by 
that  envy  and  jealousy,  which  induced  several  of  the  European 
powers  on  all  former  occasions  of  the  kind,  to  uphold  and 
^strengthen  them,  and  to  arrest  the  "progress  of  their  assailants. 


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1830.]  Exhibition  of  Pictures.  309 


Art.  ni. — Catalogue  of  the  Pictures  exhibited  at  the  Fourth 
Exhibition  in  the  Gallery  of  the  Boston  Athenaeum.  Bos- 
ton.   1830. 

The  communily  are  in  our  opinion  deeply  indebted  to  the 
proprietors  and  trustees  of  the  Adiensum,  and  especially  to  the 
public-spirited  and  intelligent  gentlemen  composing  the  commit-  « 
tee  employed  for  this  purpose,  for  their  unwearied  and  very  suc- 
cessful exertions  to  organise  an  annual  exhibition  of  paintings 
in  this  city.  A  spectacle  of  this  kind,  continued  for  a  series  of 
years,  and  afibrded  at  a  price,  which  places  it  within  the  reach  of 
almost  every  citizen, — ^while  it  furnishes  a  cheap,  rational  and 
elegant  entertainment, — serves  at  the  same  time  to  refine  and 
exalt  the  character  of  the  people.  Painting — ^Uke  eloquence, 
poetry,  and  the  other  fine  arts — ^is  one  of  the  developments 
and  exhibitions  of  the  higher  and  better  principles  of  our  na- 
ture. The  cultivation  of  the  art,  and  the  habit  of  seeing  and 
admiring  its  products,  tend  in  connexion  with  other  causes  to 
raise  the  mind  above  the  sordid  interests  of  a  merely  material 
life.  It  has  often  been  said — and  probably  with  truth — ^that 
the  peculiar  grace  and  softness  of  manner,  which  distinguish 
the  Parisians  of  all  classes,  have  been  derived-in  part  fi*om  the 
efilect  of  a  frequent  contemplation  of  the  treasures  of  art  con- 
tained in  the  Gallery  of  the  Louvre.  The  poet  Goethe  men- 
tions as  one  of  the  means  which  he  employed  for  maintaming 
his  taste  and  talent  in  a  progressive  state,  that  he  had  crowded 
his  study  with  the  finest  specimens  of  sculpture  and  paintmg, 
which  he  could  procure.  Nor  is  the  advantage  confined  to  an 
amelioration  of  the  mere  external  forms  of  social  life  or  a 
heightening  of  the  aptitude  for  excellence  in  other  branches  of 
art.  The  taste  for  Beauty  in  art  and  nature  is  nearly  allied 
to  the  love  of  Good — so  nearly  indeed,  that  it  has  often  been 
doubted  whether  Beauty  be  any  thing  more  than  a  visible 
manifestation  of  those  amiable  moral  qualities  of  which  the 
mere  idea  fills  the  heart  with  delightful  emotions,  and  confers  a 
charm  on  every  person  or  thing  with  which  they  appear  to  be 
associated.  However  this  maybe,  it  is  certain  from  expe- 
rience, that  a  familiar  observation  of  the  beautiful  forms  of  na- 
ture and  the  imitations  or  expressions  of  them  in  works  of  art, 
has  the  effect  of  cherishing  the  benevolent  affections,  repress- 
ing evil  passions,  and  improving  the  general  tone  of  mord  feel- 

voL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  40 


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310  ExhUiHu^  of  Pktwrei  at  the  [Q^ 

ing.  In  a  community  like  ours,  where  the  disposition  to  active 
pursuits,  and  the  selfish  views  and  angry  controversies  that  are 
naturally  connected  with  them,  is  perhaps  too  strong — ^where 
the  form  of  the  government  keeps  up  an  almost  uninterrupted 
war  of  political  parties — ^it  is  highly  important  that  every  prm- 
ciple  of  a  soothing  and  civUising  tendency  should  be  brought 
as  n^uch  as  possible  into  vigorous  action.  The  oultivatiaii 
of  the  arts,  it  not  the  nH)st  effectual  of  these  prioeiples, — and 
we  are  not  disposed  to  exaggerate  its  influence,— iieverthe-* 
less  has  its  value.  It  comes  in  aid  of  the  great  ^d  essenlaM 
elements  of  civilisation,  which  are  found  in  a  judicious  systeoa 
of  political  and  religious  institutions,  and  gives  the  last  polish 
to  the  character  of  m^n  and  nations.  Nor  13  in  any  objectioai 
to  the  encouragement  and  cultivation  of  the  arts,  that  they  may 
be  and  have  ^en  made  subservient  to  the  purposes  of  vice. 
If  it  were,  we  should  be  obliged  to  abstain  from  the  use  and 
enjoyment  of  aU  the  good  gifts  of  nature.  It  may  viiso  be  re- 
marked, that  in  a  young  and  progressive  community  like  ours 
there  is  vjery  Uttle  danger  of  such  a  result.  The  abuse  of  art 
for  the  purpose  of  flatteriog  Ucentious  passions  is  always  a 
syi^ptom  of  ijts  dechne,  and  indicates  radier  than  produces  a 
corrupt  state  of  moral  feeling.  While  the  condition  of  society 
is  Qealtby,  and  the  a,rts  are  flourishing,  the  artist  is  in  general 
found  to  be  endowed  with  a  pure  and  ^  excellent  spirit.'  Art 
is  then  like  the  Archangel  in  Million's  Poem — 

Severe  in  youthfbl  beauty. 

She  draws  her  inspirations  from  the  hi^  and  holy  sources 
of  religion,  and  dwells  in  preference  on  subjects  connected 
with  serious  contemplations.  The  artists  of  the  age  of  Leo 
X.  rarely  employed  their  pencils  upon  any  other  than  scrip- 
tural scenes;  and  this  very  circumstance  is  doubtless  one 
among  the  causes  of  their  extraordinary  success.  T*hey  re- 
jected with  unerring  instinct,  rather  than  on  fixed  principles 
or  from  any  calculation  of  probable  effect,  every  low  idea  33 
inconsistent  with  the  train  of  their  habitual  studies,  and  such 
must  ever  be  the  case  with  those  who  have  actually  attained  or 
are  capable  of  rising  to  real  excellence.  We  may  add,  that 
experience  fully  confirms  the  opinion,  that  in  this  country  there 
is  very  little  danger  of  the  abuse  of  art.  In  painting — and  the 
same  may  be  said  of  the  sister  arts  of  eloquence  and  poetiy — 
the  prevailing  style  and  the  only  one  which  meets  with  any 


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18^.]  MheitiBum  GeMe^.  SU 

p»bBc  ikvor  id  of  the  s^v^rest  cast.  This  eitcumstatice,  inde- 
pendently of  its  other  beneficial  efiects,  may  be  feoked  upon  as 
ooe  of  the  most  flattering  prognostics  of  the  progress  which  the 
arts  will  probably  make  among  us.  The  only  important  ex- 
ception to  the  uniformly  pure  and  correct  character  of  all  the 
products  of  art  in  this  country  is  to  be  found  in  our  dieatrical 
eiitertaimnents,  which  ha^e  hitherto  been  merely  copies  of  the 
worst  models  that  are  furnished  by  the  corrupt  societies  of  the 
^d  world.  If  the  managers  of  these  entertainments  would  try 
the  experiment  of  making  diem — ^aS  they  might  be  made — 
schools  of  good  feelings  and  principles,  instead  of  nurseries  of 
vice,  they  would  soon  find  in  the  increased  patronage  bestowed 
upon  them,  the  difference  between  obeying  the  just  demands 
m  the  public  sentiment,  and  treating  them — as  they  now  do— 
with  ccHitinual  and  systematic  outrage. 

The  exhibition  of  this  year  was  not  perhaps  quite  equal  to 
some  afike  preceding  ones.  It  contained,  however,  a  consid- 
erable number  of  fitst-rate  works  of  the  old  masters,  several 
beautiful  copies  of  originals  in  Europe,  and  i  variety  of  excel- 
led native  productions  in  the  dMerent  wiiBcs  of  this  eRchaAtin|g 
art.  We  propose  to  oflter  a  few  remarks  upon  some  of  the 
pieces  which  more  particularly  attracted  our  attention.  It  is 
impossible  in  a  single  article  of  this  kind  to  exhaust  the  subject, 
and  we  shall  not  be  understood  to  intimate  that  other  pieces 
may  not  be  equally  or  perhaps  better  entitled  to  notice.  In 
making  a  selection,  we  must  of  course  prefer  those  in  which 
we  felt  the  deepest  interest,  although  this  mterest  mray  have 
been  in  some  cases  the  effect  of  accidental  and  local  causes; 

Among  d^  works  of  the  old  mastet^  exhibited  on  this  occa!- 
sion,  the  toxm  remarkable  was  fte  Martyrdom  of  St.  Law^ 
rence^  by  Titian.  This  large  picture,  belonging  to  Mrs.  Meade 
of  Philadelphia,  is  tati  undoubted  original,  in  the  best  nranner 
of  that  great  artist,  and  in  a  state  of  complete  preservation.  It 
exhibits  in  fuD  perfection  the  beauty,  meflowness,  and  perfect 
Iruth  of  celoring,  i^^hich  formed  the  eharacterislJc  excellences 
of  Intian,  tod  in  which  he  has  never  been  surpassed.  In  the 
moral  expression  of  his  personages — the  highest  eflfect  of  the 
art — ^bis  superiority  in  this,  as  in  his  bther  woilks,  is  less  de* 
eided.  It  is  even  somewhat  difficuk  to  determine  ^eciself 
what  expression  he  iiMended  t6  give  to  his  principal  figure. 
St.  Lawrence-— as  our  readers  1*91  ef  course  re^oHect— sut- 
ured martyrdom  in  the  not  very  poetical  form  of  being  broiled 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


312  Exhibitum  of  Pictures  at  the  [Oct. 

to  death  upon  a  large  gridiron.  In  the  picture  of  which  we  are 
speaking,  the  Saint  is  stretched  at  hb  length  on  this  instrument  of 
torture  over  a  blazing  fire,  which  two  or  three  executioners  are 
engaged  in  stirring  and  feeding  with  fuel.  In  the  legend  the 
gridiron  is  said  to  have  been  heated  red  hot  before  he  was 
placed  upon  it.  In  the  painting,  there  is,  however,  no  effect  of 
fire  observable,  either  on  the  person  or  drapery  of  the  martyr, 
and  his  face  is  turned  upward  with  a  perfectly  serene  and  tran- 
quil expression.  It  was  probably  the  design  of  the  artist  to  m- 
timate  by  this  expression,  the  triumph  of  religious  faith  and 
hope  over  bodily  anguish  ;  but  it  is  hard  to  conceive  that  the 
effect  should  extend  so  far  as  to  guarantee  the  limbs  and  even 
the  drapery  from  the  action  of  fire.  It  would  be  therefore 
more  natural  to  imagine  that  Titian  meant  to  indicate  a  super* 
natural  interposition  in  favor  of  the  Saint,  like  that  which  is 
represented  as  having  taken  place  at  the  martyrdom  of  St. 
Polycarp,  when  the  flames  that  were  kindled  at  the  foot  of  the 
stake  to  which  he  was  attached,  retired  as  they  rose  from  the 
person  of  the  holy  man,  and  formed  a  sort  of  hoUow  sphere 
around  him,  refusing  even  to  singe  a  hair  of  his  head,  ^ut  it 
is  hardly  probable  that  Titian  would  have  varied  from  the 
legend,  which  states  that  St.  Lawrence  actually  suffered  death 
in  this  form ;  and  we  may  therefore  conjecture  that  he  proba- 
bly sacrificed  the  truth  of  his  painting,  in  order  to  avoid  the 
exhibition  of  the  disgusting  image  of  mere  physical  suffering. 
In  other  respects,  the  image  of  nature  is  admirably  preserved. 
The  ferocious  countenances  of  the  executioners  contrast  finely 
with  the  sweet  expression  of  the  suffering  Sabt.  The  figures 
are  well  drawn  and  grouped,  and  the  painting  wears  in  every 
part  the  appearance  of  a  carefully  wrought  and  highly  finished 
production. 

This  fine  picture  was  purchased  in  Spain  by  Mr.  Meade, 
formerly  our  Consul  at  Cadiz,  and  was  no  doubt  painted  at 
Madrid,  where  Titian  resided  for  several  years.  Although  the 
subject  is  in  some  respects  not  a  very  seducing  one,  he  appears 
to  have  painted  it  a  number  of  times.  We  have  had  the  plea- 
sure of  seebg  another  picture  of  his  on  the  same  subject, 
though  varying  a  littie  from  this  in  the  details,  b  the  Chapter- 
House  of  the  Convent  of  the  Escurial,  and  we  are  informed 
that  there  are  two  or  three  more  b  existence.  The  first  was 
probably  executed  for  the  purpose  of  bebg  placed  b  the  Es- 
curial, the  subject  havbg  been  selected  with  a  view  to  this 


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1830.]  JlthefkBum  GaUery.  818 

destination.  This  convent,  as  our  readers  are  probably  aware, 
was  erected  in  honor  of  St.  Lawrence. — Its  proper  style  and 
title  is  the  Convent  of  the  Royal  St.  Lawrence — San  Lorenzo 
el  Real — the  name  Escurial  or  Escorialj  as  it  is  written  in 
Spam,  being  that  of  a  neighboring  village,  and,  as  is  generally 
supposed,  a  corruption  or  modification  of  the  word  scoriae, 
which  expresses  the  cinders  and  rubbish  proceeding  from  a 
mine  that  was  formerly  wrought  on  this  spot.  It  is  weU  known 
that  Philip  U.  before  going  into  the  battle  of  St.  Quentin — 
which  was  fought  on  St.  Lawrence's  day — ^made  a  vow  that  if 
he  gained  the  victory,  he  would  erect  a  convent  in  honor  of 
the  Saint,  and  in  the  shape  of  the  instrument  on  which  he  suf- 
fered marlyrdom.  Having  in  fact  won  the  day,  the  King,  or 
rather  the  ingenious  and  jusdy  celebrated  architect  Herrera, 
whom  he  employed,  not  only  executed  this  vow  to  the  let* 
ter,  but  contrived  at  the  same  time  to  produce  a  building, 
which  is  justly  considered  as  one  of  the  finest  specimens  of 
modern  architecture.  It  would  be  hard  to  imagine  before- 
hand how  so  handsome  an  edifice  could  possibly  be  built  upon 
a  model  apparently  so  ill  adapted  to  the  purpose  ;  but  the  archi- 
tect by  a  happy  exertion  of  ingenuity,  sunilar  to  that  by  which 
Columbus  succeeded  in  setting  his  egg  upright  upon  its  smaUer 
end,  removed  at  once  the  principal  difficulty,  by  turning  the 
gridu'on  upon  its  back  with  its  legs  upwards.  The  achievement 
was  now  comparatively  easy,  and  the  building  to  be  erected 
susceptible  of  a  high  degree  of  architectural  beauty.  It  is  con- 
structed of  a  handsome  reddish  freestone,  in  the  form  of  a 
hollow  square,  the  four  sides  of  which  are  connected  together 
by  several  lines  of  buildings  crossing  each  other  at  right  angles, 
and  enclosing  a  number  of  small  courts.  The  four  sides  rep- 
resent the  frame,  and  the  interior  buildings  the  bars  of  the  ma- 
chine, while  at  the  pomts  where  they  intersect  each  other,  and 
at  the  four  comers  of  the  main  edifice  are  placed  towers,  which 
represent  the  legs.  From  the  side  opposite  the  main  entrance 
projects  a  wing,  which  forms  the  handle.  This  wing  with  a 
part  of  the  side  of  the  main  edifice  adjoining  it,  is  occupied  by 
the  Court  when  they  take  up  their  residence  at  the  Escurial. 
The  remabder  of  the  building  consists  of  the  large  and  truly 
magnificent  church,  two  libraries,  and  the  public  and  private 
apartments  appropriated  to  the  use  of  the  monks  who  inhabit 
the  convent.  One  of  the  libraries  contains  the  collection  of 
Arabic  Manuscripts,  which  is  considered  the  richest  in  Europe. 


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314  ExhiUtum  of  Pietw^  at  the  [Oct 

We  found  on  inquiry,  that  there  is  at  present  no  person  in  the 
convent  who  reads  that  language.  The  exterior  of  the  build- 
ing is  decorated  with  great  taste,  and  the  general  appearance  is 
simple,  imposing,  and  on  the  whole  highly  satisfactory.  It 
stands  on  the  declivity  of  a  mountain ;  and  at  a  considerable 
height  above  is  a  stone  seat — called  Philip's  Seat — where  the 
interior  courts  are  distinctly  seen,  and  the  gridiron  principle  of 
the  plan  becomes  apparent  in  all  its  beauty.  On  this  seat  the 
gloomy  despot  who  ordered  the  construction  of  the  building 
was  accustomed  to  repose  m  his  solitary  walks,  and  contemplate, 
no  doubt  with  great  satisfaction,  the  complete  success  with 
which  be  had  executed  his  pious  and  somewhat  singular  de- 
sign. The  interior  of  the  convent  is  adorned  throughout  with 
the  choicest  productions  of  the  pencils  of  the  first  artists.  The 
principal  stair-case  was  decorated  by  Jordaens,  and  is  consid- 
ered his  finest  work.  The  cloisters  were  painted  in  firesco  by 
a  celebrated  Spanish  artist,  called  from  his  having  been  dumb. 
El  Mudo.  The  public  apartments  are  hung  mth  the  master- 
pieces of  Raphael,  Titian,  Rubens,  MuriUo,  Velasquez,  and  the 
other  principal  painters  of  the  Spanish  and  Italian  schools.  In 
the  sacristy  is  to  be  seen  among  other  beantiful  pieces  a  cele- 
brated Holy  Family,  by  Raphael,  which  on  account  of  its  sin- 
gular perfection,  is  commonly  called  the  Pearly  and  which  was 
purchased  for  the  King  of  Spain  by  his  And[)assador  at  Lon- 
don at  the  sale  of  the  paintings  of  Charles  L  In  the  Chapter- 
House  is  the  Madonna  de  la  PeZy  or  Virgin  with  the  Fish, 
by  the  same  great  artist,  which  is  reckoned  in  like  manner  one 
of  his  capital  pieces.  The  subject  is  singular,  and  if  taken  lite- 
rally mvolves  a  good  deal  of  anachronism.  The  young  Tobias 
of  the  Apocrypha,  holding  a  fish  in  his  hand  by  a  line,  is 
presented  to  the  Virgin.  She  is  seated  as  usual  with  the  infant 
Jesus  in  her  arms,  who  is  eagerly  extending  one  of  his  hands 
to  grasp  the  fish,  and  with  the  other  is  playing  with  the  leaves 
of  an  open  bible,  which  St.  Jerome  is  perusing  on  ifae  left. 
The  painting  is  commonly  supposed  to  be  an  allegorical  repre- 
sentation of  the  admission  of  the  Apocryphal  books  mto  the 
Canon  of  Scripture  by  the  Council  of  Trent.  Thb  piece, 
with  the  P^ar}— the  Pasmo  di  SicUiaj  now  in  liie  museum  at 
Madrid,  by  the  same  artist,  which  was  painted  as  a  companion- 
piece  to  die  Tranajigurationj  and  is  considered  next  to  that 
as  his  best  production — and  a  number  of  other  pictures,  was 
transported  to  Paris  during  the  period  of  the  French  ascend- 


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18S0.]  ^tkemsum  GalUry.  315 

mcy  in  Spain,  and  exhibited  for  sereral  jrears  in  the  Gallery 
o{  die  LoNivre.  They  returned  after  the  abdicaticm  of  Bona* 
parte,  varnished  and  restored  in  a  way,  which  has  not  been 
thought  by  competent  judges  to  increase  their  value.  In  the 
same  iqpartment  with  the  Jwzdanna  de  la  Fez  is  the  Martyrdom 
of  St.  Lawrence,  by  Titian,  which  has  led  us  into  this  little 
digression.  It  is  not  in  so  fine  a  state  of  preservation  as  the 
one  which  was  exhibited  at  the  Athenaeum,  having  suffered  a 
good  deal  of  late,  in  oonamon  with  many  of  the  other  pictures 
in  the  Escurial,  from  want  of  attention.  It  still,  however, 
produces  great  e&ct. 

Among  the  other  paintings  of  Titian  preserved  at  the  Escu- 
rial, is  a  remarkable  piece  coomionly  called  Titian^s  Glory, 
which  did  not  obtain  the  dangerous  hooor  of  a  transportation 
to  Paris,  and  consequendy  exhibits  at  present  the  real  touches 
of  the  masterly  author  in  a  state  of  greater  purity  than  it  would 
have  done,  if  it  had  undergone  a  reparation  by  a  modem 
French  painter.  The  hmt  of  this  superb  picture  seems  to 
have  been  borrotwed  from  the  Transfiguration  of  Raphael,  and 
die  general  aspect  of  it  is  somewhat  similar  although  its  sub- 
ject is  wholly  dij&rent.  The  painting  exhibits  the  various  or- 
ders of  the  heavenly  host  in  the  act  of  adormg  the  Supreme 
Being.  The  divee  persons  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  drawn  with 
dieir  usual  attributes,  dressed  in  sky-blue  drapery  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  Glory,  which  gives  its  name  to  the  painting,  oc- 
cupy the  upper  part  of  the  canvass.  They  are  nearly  in  the 
attitudes  of  the  three  principal  figures  in  die  TramfiguraHon. 
Below  are  the  saints  and  angelsr--'  Dominations,  Princedoms, 
Virtues,  Powers'-^-gazing  upwards  with  adoring  looks  at  the 
object  of  their  worship.  The  subject  of  this  picture  is  con^ 
ceived  in  a  loftier  tone  of  thought  and  feeling  dian  that  of 
any  other  piece  of  Titian's,  which  we  have  seen,  and  the  exe- 
cution does  it  perfect  justice.  The  work,  however,  does  not 
seem  to  have  been  fully  appreciated  by  its  present  possesscnrs. 
It  now  hangs  without  a  frame  in  a  small  room,  which  serves  as 
a  sort  of  passage  from  one  part  of  the  convent  to  another,  but 
which  contains,  it  is  true,  some  other  very  fine  pieces.  It  was 
probably  owing  to  its  being  kept  in  this  comparatively  obscure 
place  that  it  was  not  carried  to  Paris.  In  the  same  room  is 
an  exquisite  St.  Catherine  by  the  same  artist — a  single  figure 
in  a  green  drapery,  discovering  one  leg  and  foot,  which  have 
often  been  cited  as  models  of  perfection  for  this  pu*t  of  die 


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816  Exhibition  of  Pieiwres  at  the  [OcU 

female  fonn.  There  is  a  repetition  of  this  charmmg  piece  in 
the  museum  at  Madrid,  where  there  are  also  a  number  of 
other  fruits  of  the  labor  of  the  same  indefatigable  and  prolific 
genius  while  in  Spain.  We  may  mention  particularly  the  por- 
trait of  Charles  V.  on  horseback,  the  Danaij  the  Ariadne  and 
the  two  full  length  portraits  of  the  Princess  of  Eboli,  some- 
times called  the  Venusesy  from  their  being  entirely  without 
drapery.  This  celebrated  favorite  of  Philip  II.  figures  to 
more  advantage  under  the  pencil  of  Titian  than  she  does  un- 
der the  pen  of  Schiller,  who  has  introduced  her  as  one  of  the 
characters  in  his  tragedy  of  Don  Carlos.  It  is  rather  a  singu- 
lar circumstance,  that  with  no  recommendation  but  mere 
beauty  she  should  have  had  the  fortune  to  be  handed  down  to 
immortality  by  the  separate  labors  of  these  two  masters  in 
their  respective  arts.  In  all  these  pieces  the  art  of  colormg-^ 
especially  in  its  application  to  the  human  body — ^is  carried  to 
the  highest  perfection  which  it  has  ever  attained  or  is  probably 
capable  of  attaimng.  We  well  remember  the  air  of  satisfac- 
tion with  which  the  distinguished  Scotch  artist  Wilkie,  with 
whom  we  had  the  pleasure  of  going  through  the  museum  at 
Madrid,  pointed  to  the  figure  of  Ariadne,  and  pronounced  it  a 
piece  of  real  flesh  and  blood.  For  this  reason  the  works  of 
Titian  are  excellent  studies,  more  especially  at  a  time  when 
the  example  of  the  modem  French  school  has  a  tendency  to 
dififuse  a  false  taste  in  this  branch  of  the  art.  We  are  highly 
gratified  that  so  fine  a  work  of  this  great  colorist  as  the  one 
we  have  been  considering  should  have  been  obtained  for  the 
Exhibition,  and  only  regret  that  the  funds  of  the  Athensum 
were  not  in  such  a  state  as  to  allow  of  its  purchase.  It  is 
true,  that  the  subject  is  not  so  attractive  as  might  be  wished ; 
but  it  is  rare  that  a  first-rate  painting  by  this  great  master  is 
for  sale  even  in  Europe,  and  a  century  may  probably  elapse 
before  another  opportunity  will  occur  for  procuring  one  in  this 
country. 

Having  had  occasion  to  advert  to  the  collections  of  paintings 
that  are  found  in  Spain,  we  proceed  in  this  connexion  to  men- 
tion, as  one  of  the  principsd  ornaments  of  the  Exhibition  at 
the  Athenaeum  Gallery,  the  fine  picture,  by  Murillo,  of  the 
Meeting  of  Rebecca  and  MrahanCs  Servant.  This  we  are 
happy  to  say  belongs  to  the  msdtution,  and  has  of  course  ap- 
peared at  the  preceding  exhibitions,  but  is  well  worthy  of  con- 
tinued notice  and  attention.     It  is  not  indeed  by  any  means  so 


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1830.]  Atkenaum  Gallery.  317 

good  a  specimen  of  the  manner  of  Murillo  as  the  Martyrdom 
of  St  Laufrence  is  of  that  of  Titian ;  and  it  also  appears  to 
have  suffered  some  injury,  but  it  is  nevertheless  an  undoubted 
original,  and  has  much  of  the  sweetness,  grace  and  truth  to 
nature  that  characterise  the  best  of  the  author's  works.  Un- 
der the  head  of  this  picture  we  find  in  the  Catalogue  the  fol- 
lowing remiurks. 

*Bartolomeo  Esteban  Murillo  was  born  in  1613,  and  died  in 
1685.  He  showed  a  very  early  inclination  for  painting,  and  re- 
ceived instruction  from  his  uncle,  Juan  del  Castello,  and  after- 
wards from  Velasquez.  He  was  employed  by  the  King  of  Spain 
to  paint  several  historical  pictures,  but  his  favorite  subjects  were 
beggar  boys  in  various  exercises  and  amusements.  His  coloring 
is  mellow,  his  tints  clear  and  skilfully  opposed  by  proper  shad- 
ows. His  pictures  are  in  great  esteem  throughout  Europe,  bat 
few  of  them  have  reached  this  country.  This  picture  has  been 
much  injured.  Its  great  merit  is,  however,  apparent,  and  has 
been  appreciated  by  the  community.' 

This  brief  notice,  though  in  the^main  correct,  and  perhaps 
as  complete  as  it  could  be  made  consistently  with  the  limits  of 
a  Catalogue,  hardly  does  justice  to  the  extraordinary  merit  of 
the  great  artist  in  question.  Although  his  works  are,  as  is  re- 
marked in  the  Catalogue,  in  great  esteem  throughout  Europe, 
they  are  nevertheless  not  so  generally  known  and  valued  even 
there  as  they  would  be  were  they  more  favorpbly  situated  for 
the  observation  of  artists  and  travellers  of  taste.  They  were 
all  painted  in  Spain.  Very  few  of  them  have  found  their 
way  into  th^  other  parts  of  Europe  ;  and  as  Spain  has  been 
for  a  century  past  entirely  out  of  the  regular  line  of  travel, 
whether  for  business  or  pleasure,  the  treasures  of  art,  which 
are  contained  in  the  Spanish  collections,  have  been  seques- 
tered, as  it  were,  from  public  view.  Hence  the  names  of 
Murillo,  and  his  master  Velasquez,  are  much  less  familiar  to 
the  European  public  than  those  of  many  Italian  and  Flemish 
artists  of  inferior  merit.  Several  fine  works  were,  however, 
carried  to  Paris  by  the  effect  of  the  late  political  movements, 
and  the  engravings  that  have  recently  been  published  at  Madrid 
of  the  paintings  in  the  museum  have  made  them  better  known 
abroad  than  they  were  formerly.  We  were  informed  by  Wil- 
kie  that  the  Spanish  painters  Murillo  and  Velasquez  were  very 
inadequately  appreciated  in  England,  and  that  he  bad  himself 
no  idea  of  the  extent  and  value  of  their  productions  until  he 

VOL.  XXXI, — NO.  69.  41 


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318  Exhibitian  of  Pictures  at  th§  [Oct 

met  at  Rome  with  the  coUections  of  engravings  to  which  ^e 
have  just  alluded,  and  which  affi>rded  him  so  much  satisfacti(»i 
that  he  immediately  determined  on  a  visit  to  Spain  for  the  ex- 
press purpose  of  seeing  the  originals.  The  high  expectations 
he  had  formed  of  them  were  entirely  equalled,  if  not  surpassed, 
BXkd  his  correspondence  on  the  subject  with  ^e  late  President 
of  the  Academy  will  have  contributed  much  to  rectify  the 
opinions  of  the  British  artists  on  this  subject,  and  to  give  a 
new  idea  of  the  merit  and  richness  of  the  Spanish  school. 

From  the  tenor  of  the  above  extract  it  would  be  natural 
to  conclude  that  low  life  was  the  favorite  walk  of  Murillo, 
that  he  had  deviated  into  the  historical  department  in  compli- 
ance with  the  wishes  of  the  king,  but  that  his  success  in  this 
branch  had  been  less  remarkable  than  in  the  other.  This  idea 
of  the  nature  of  his  talent  is,  however,  incorrect.  Like  all 
the  artists  of  his  time,  he  painted  principaUy  for  churches  and 
convents,  and  of  course  on  scriptural  subjects,  from  which 
every  allusion  to  low  life  is  necessarily  excluded.  His  ac- 
knowledged master-piece  is  a  large  picture  in  one  of  the  con- 
vents at  SeviUe,  on  the  subject  of  Moses  striking  the  Rode. 
This  grand  work  has  been  thought  by  many  competent  judges 
to  bear  away  the  palm  from  the  TransfigurcUion,  and  is  ad- 
mitted by  all  to  be  one  of  the  noblest  efforts  of  genius  b  exist- 
ence. His  taste  was,  however,  undoubtedly  for  grace  and 
sweetness  rather  than  sublimity,  and  he  accordingly  excelled 
in  his  Holy  Families — a  favorite  subject  with  him,  as  with  all 
the  painters  of  the  day.  There  is  one  in  particular  in  the 
museum  at  Madrid  of  pre-eminent  beauty,  in  which  the  Virgm 
is  represented  as  in  a  sort  of  extacy,  with  one  foot  resting  on 
the  crescent  moon, 

*With  eyes  upraised,  as  one  inspired,' 

robed  in  a  flowing  blue  and  white  drapery  and  surrounded  by 
a  glory  that  fills  the  back  ground  of  the  picture.  For  truth 
of  drawing,  spirit  and  felicity  of  composition,  and  a  peculiar 
brilliancy  and  charm  of  coloring,  the  manner  of  MuriUo  in 
this  and  his  other  best  pieces  could  not  well  be  surpassed. 
His  figures  have  been  thought  to  want  in  some  degree  the 
high  intellectual  expression  that  distinguishes  those  of  the 
great  masters  of  the  Italian  school,  and  which  is  no  doubt 
the  loftiest  attainment  to  which  genius  in  the  art  can  aspire. 
Had  he  combined  this  with  his  other  excellences  he  would 


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1830.]  AthentBim  GaUery.  31^ 

J)robably  have  excelled  most  other  modern  {Painters.  The 
aces  of  his  Virgios  are  said  to  have  beea  copied  from 
that  of  his  daughter.  They  have  a  charming  simplicity  and 
sweetness  of  expression,  inclining,  however,  to  childish  weak- 
ness rather  than  to  the  poetical  elevation,  which  must  natur- 
ally be  supposed  to  form  the  other  ingredient  in  the  character. 
Murillo  was  uncommonly  happy  in  bis  delineations  of  boys, 
but  they  were  by  no  means  always  placed,  as  might  perhaps 
be  imagined  from  the  above  extract,  in  situations  connected 
with  common  life.  His  two  separate  pictures  of  the  Infant 
Saviour  and  the  Infant  Baptist,  in  the  museum  at  Madrid,  are 
among  the  most  exquisite  productions  of  his  pencil,  and  sur- 
pass perhaps  any  other  work  on  a  similar  subject,  unless  we 
except  the  Young  Samuel  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  which 
seems  to  realise  the  idea  of  absolute  perfection.  But  though 
the  talent  of  Murillo  was  not  confined  to  the  delineation  of 
common  life,  it  is  nevertheless  true  that  he  greatly  exceUed  in 
this  as  well  as  in  the  higher  walks  of  his  art.  The  Pet  Kitten 
of  the  Exhibition  is  a  specimen  of  his  manner  in  this  line,  but, 
if  an  original,  is  not  one  of  his  best  pieces.  In  a  large  picture, 
in  the  Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts  at  Madrid,  representing  the 
exercise  by  Isabella,  Queen  of  Castile,  of  the  faculty  formerly 
supposed  to  be  inherent  in  all  royal  personages,  of  curing  by 
the  touch  certain  cutaneous  diseases,  the  artist  has  combined, 
injudiciously  perhaps,  the  expressions  peculiar  respectively  to 
high  and  vulgar  life.  The  Queen,  surrounded  by  her  court, 
and  with  the  air  of  dignified  solemnity  and  deep  interest, 
which  would  naturally  accompany  the  use  of  her  miraculous 
gift,  is  washmg  the  head  of  one  little  urchin,  iivhile  another, 
who  stands  by  the  side  of  the  basin  waiting  for  his  turn,  affords 
himself  a  temporary  relief  by  scratching  with  both  hands,  and 
displays  an  irresistibly  comic  expression  of  countenance.  This 
piece,  though,  as  we  have  intimated  above,  defective  in  its 
plan,  is  in  pomt  of  execution  one  of  the  most  successful  and 
perfect  of  Murillo's  works. 

It  is  remarked  in  the  Catalogue  that  but  few  of  the  works 
of  this  artist  have  reached  our  country.  There  are  some  in 
the  collection  of  the  Academy  of  the  Arts  at  New  York ;  but 
the  best  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  is  probably  the  Roman 
Charity  jin  the  collection  of  the  Academy  of  the  Arts  at  Phila- 
delphia. This  was  purchased  by  the  Academy  of  our  country- 
aian  Mr.  Rich,  formerly  our  Consul  at  Valencia.    While  in  his 


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320  Exhibition  of  Picture$  at  the  [Oct. 

possession  it  had  suffered  some  alteration  from  the  efiects  of 
the  rather  exaggerated  delicacy  of  a  contemporary  Spanish 
artist  of  considerable  merit,  named  Lopez,  now  chief  painter 
to  the  King  of  Spain.  In  the  picture,  as  it  came  from  the 
hands  of  the  artist,  and  into  those  of  Mr.  Rich,  the  neck  and 
breast  of  the  female  figure,  who,  agreeably  to  the  well-known 
anecdote,  is  represented  nursing  her  father  in  prison,  were  dis- 
covered. There  seems  to  be  litde  in  such  an  exhibition  at 
which  the  purest  mind  need  to  be  alarmed.  The  scrupulous 
Spaniard,  however,  took  it  amiss,  and  resorted  to  a  veiy  sum- 
mary process  for  abating  the  nuisance.  He  had  prevailed  on 
Mr.  Rich  to  lend  him  the  picture  for  the  purpose  of  studying 
it  at  home,  and  while  he  had  it  in  his  possession,  without  con- 
sulting the  owner,  very  kindly  supplied  the  fair  Roman  with 
a  handkerchief  from  his  own  pallet.  In  plain  English,  he 
coolly  set  himself  to  work  and  painted  over  the  bust  of  the 
female  figure  with  a  sort  of  shawl  or  mande,  apparently  without 
reflecting  whether  something  were  not  due  to  his  neighbor's 
right  of  property  as  well  as  to  what  he  doubtless  considered 
a  just  delicacy.  We  have  not  had  much  opportunity  to  ex- 
amine this  picture  in  detail,  but  have  been  informed  by  Mr. 
Rich  that  it  is  in  the  best  manner  of  the  artist.  Its  actual 
value  is  perhaps  a  litde  dimbished  by  the  injudicious  reform 
to  which  we  have  alluded ;  but  it  will  probably  attract  here- 
after more  rather  than  less  attention  from  having  been  the 
subject  of  so  curious  an  anecdote. 

Velasquez,  the  master  of  Murillo,  is  less  known  beyond  the 
limits  of  his  own  country,  than  his  great  pupil,  but  is  generally 
regarded  by  tlie  Spaniards,  and  by  such  other  persons  as  have 
had  the  opportunity  to  appreciate  his  merit,  as  being,  in  some 
respects  at  least,  die  superior  artist.  For  truth  to  nature  in 
drawing  and  coloring,  his  works  may  be  considered  as  ap- 
proaching the  point  of  actual  perfection,  and  they  would  form 
the  best  possible  study  for  such  proficients  in  the  art  as  were 
in  danger  of  being  seduced  by  the  false  briUiancy  of  the  mod- 
ern French  school.  We  must  confess,  however,  that  in  our 
judgment  Velasquez  errs  a  little  on  the  other  side,  and  that  his 
coloring,  though  admirably  fresh,  distinct  and  true,  is  rather 
cold.  In  the  Catalogue  of  the  Paintings  in  the  museum  at 
Madrid  the  manner  of  this  great  artist  is  described  in  the  fol- 
lowing terms. 

<  Velasquez  possessed  a  genius  for  pamting  of  the  very  first 


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1830.]  Athenaum  GaUery.  321 

order.  He  united  a  brilliant  imagination  and  a  singularly  cor- 
rect judgment  with  great  industry.  The  beauty  and  felicity  of 
bis  drawing  are  admirable ;  and  his  coloring,  while  it  is  per- 
fectly true  to  nature,  has  a  peculiarly  seductive  grace.  What 
harmony  and  correctness  in  his  landscapes !  Tlie  iDusion  is 
there  so  perfect  that  we  can  hardly  realise,  -at  a  litde  distance, 
that  we  are  viewing  a  picture  and  not  the  thing  itself.  No 
artist  ever  understood  better  the  effect  of  light  and  tliat  aerial 
perspective  which  regulates  the  size  and  hue  of  objects  accord- 
ing to  their  distance.  In  short,  he  had  improved  his  strong 
natural  talent  for  the  art  by  the  most  careful  and  judicious 
course  of  study  and  practised  it  with  complete  success  in  all 
its  parts.  It  may  be  said  with  safety,  that  there  was  more 
truth  in  his  coloring  and  more  firmness  in  his  drawing  than  in 
those  of  even  Titian.  The  means  employed  are  seen  more 
distincdy  on  a  near  examination  without  the  least  diminution 
of  the  general  effect  at  the  proper  distance.* 

The  museum  at  Madrid  is  rich  in  the  works  of  this  great 
artist,  which  consist  principally  of  historical  pieces  and  por- 
traits. Among  the  latter  may  be  noticed  particularly  those 
of  Philip  IV,  and  his  Queen  Doiia  Mariana  of  Austria,  under 
whom  he  flourished,  and  those  of  their  son  the  Infante  Don 
Baltazar  Carlos,  and  of  the  celebrated  Count-Duke  Olivares-^ 
the  two  last  on  horseback.  A  portrait  of  one  of  the  Prin- 
cesses of  the  royal  family,  daughter  of  Philip  IV.,  is  even 
more  remarkable,  and  is  thus  described  in  the  Catalogue. 

*  This  is  a  portrait  of  the  Infanta  Dona  Margarita  Maria  of 
Austria,  daughter  of  Philip  IV.,  receiving  a  glass  of  water 
from  one  of  her  ladies.  In  the  list  of  the  spectators  is  the  art- 
ist himself  with  his  pallet  in  his  hand  taking  the  portrait  of  the 
Princess,  and  on  the  right  are  the  two  dwarfs  Nicolas  Pertu- 
sano  and  Maria  Barbola,  who  are  endeavoring  to  amuse  her 
and  are  playing  with  a  favorite  dog.  This  picture  is  admirable 
for  the  correct  drawing  and  ingenious  composition,  but  espe* 
cially  for  the  wonderful  efiect  of  light.  The  apartment  seems 
to  be  filled  with  a  kind  of  vapor,  which  surrounds  and  removes 
all  the  objects  that  require  to  be  represented  as  more  distant. 
It  is  a  singular  proof  of  the  talent  of  Velasquez,  that  he  suc- 
ceeded in  placing  in  the  middle  of  the  piece  an  open  door, 
admitting  a  light  so  strong  that  it  brightens  the  door,  the  stair- 
case behind  it,  and  the  person  who  is  going  out, — ^the  whole 
executed  with  perfect  truth  and  yet  without  injuring  the  general 


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Exhibitian  of  Pictures  at  the  [Oct 

effect.  This  picture  is  a  sort  of  miracle  in  the  way  of  per- 
spective, both  aerial  and  linear.  It  was  called  by  Giordana 
the  Painter^s  Biblej  {La  Teologia  de  la  Pintura.y 

Among  the  history  pieces  of  Velasquez  in  the  same  collec- 
tion may  be  mentioned  the  Surrender  of  Breda  to  the  Mar- 
quesses of  Spinola  and  Leganes  m  presence  of  the  armies  of 
Spain  and  the  Netherlands.  '  This,'  says  the  Catalogue,  ^  is  one 
of  the  capital  pieces  of  this  artist.  The  plan  is  well  conceived, 
the  composition  skilful,  the  drawing  correct,  the  expression 
spirited  and  noble,  the  coloring  rich  and  true,  and  at  the  same 
time  so  bold,  that  we  may  safely  say  that  Velasquez  alone 
could  have  ventured,  as  is  done  here,  to  introduce  a  mass 
of  strong  light  between  the  Spanish  army  and  the  escort  of 
the  Flemish  general.  We  admire  the  art  with  which  he 
groups  together  the  figures  thus  separated  by  the  friendly  atti- 
tude of  the  Spanish  General  throwing  his  arm  over  the  shoulder 
of  the  Governor  of  the  fort.  The  horse  of  Spinola  is  painted 
with  extraordinary  truth.  In  the  back  ground  is  a  vast  plain 
extending  to  tlie  horizon.  It  is  a  low,  moist  country,  corres- 
ponding with  the  real  character  of  the  scene  of  the  action, 
and  covered  with  burning  castles  and  villages,  which  show  too 
well  the  fata]  consequences  of  war,' 

A  fancy-piece  by  the  same  artist,  representing  the  interior 
of  a  carpet-manufactory,  and  commonly  called  The  Spinners, 
(Las  HUanderas,)  is  considered  one  of  bis  happiest  efforts,  and 
is  thus  described. 

'  In  the  back  ground  are  some  ladies  looking  at  carpets.  On 
the  front  of  the  picture  is  a  woman  spmnbg  and  talking  with 
another,  who  is  drawing  a  scarlet  curtain.  At  a  litde  distance 
is  a  girl  carding  wool.  On  the  right  of  the  spectators  is  a 
young  woman  winding  yam,  whose  features  are  not  visible, 
although  we  may  be  sure  that  they  are  handsome  from  the 
beauty  of  her  shoulder,  and  another,  who  has  in  her  hand  a 
sort  of  basket.  This  pictui'e,'  says  the  commentator,  'was 
painted  off-hand,  with  a  bold,  free,  and  playful  pencil.  The 
skill  with  which  the  artist  has  harmonised  the  different  lights, 
which  he  has  introduced  into  it,  is  truly  marvellous.' 

We  have  been  led  to  make  these  brief  remarks  on  the  gen- 
eral manner  of  Murillo  and  Velasquez  for  the  purpose  of  turn- 
ing the  attention  of  the  public  to  the  merit  of  two  great  artists, 
who  are  not  sufficiently  known  beyond  the  limits  of  their 
native  land,  and  in  the  hope  that  opportunities  may  occur  for 


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acquiring  a  greater  number  of  their  works  in  this  country. 
We  must  now  proceed,  a  little  more  rapidly  than  we  have  thus 
far  done,  in  our  survey  of  the  pamtings  exhibited  at  the  Athe- 
naeum Gallery. 

Of  the  odier  original  pieces  of  the  old  masters,  may  be 
mentioned  particularly  The  Laughing  Boy,  by  Grerardo  delle 
Notti,  which,  as  a  mere  specimen  of  effect  in  the  disposition  of 
light  and  shade,  was  undoubtedly  by  far  the  most  powerful 
picture  in  the  Exhibition.  The  artist,  whose  real  name  was 
Gerard  Honthorst,  obtained  the  one  above  quoted,  by  which 
he  is  usually  known  and  which  means  literally  Gerard  of  the 
JSTightSf  or,  according  to  the  English  idiom,  Gerard  JVight-' 
Piece,  from  his  extraordinary  talent  for  producing  the  effect  of 
lamp-light.  The  two  large  paintmgs,  representing  respectively 
the  fish  of  the  Bay  of  Tarentum  and  of  the  Bay  of  Naples, 
from  the  collection  of  Joseph  Bonaparte,  though  the  subjects 
are  not  attractive,  nevertheless  afibrded  great  pleasure  irom 
the  spirit  and  trudi  to  nature,  which  distinguish  the  execution. 
The  Jacob  tvrestling  with  the  Angel,  by  Domenichino,  belong- 
ing to  Mrs.  Meade,  is  a  valuable  production  of  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  Italian  masters.  Domenichino,  or  little 
Dominic,  as  he  has  been  affectionately  denommated  by  the 
dilettanti  of  his  country,  was  less  prolific  than  some  of  his 
great  predecessors  and  contemporaries.  The  extreme  cor- 
rectness and  high  finish  of  his  pictures  account  in  part  for  the 
comparative  slowness  with  which  he  appears  to  have  wrought. 
A  Seaport,  by  Claude  Lorraine,  a  View  of  the  Lake  of 
Thrasymene,  by  Vernet,  and  several  landscapes  with  figures, 
by  Salvator  Rosa,  furnished  interesting  specimens  of  the  man- 
ner of  their  respective  authors.  The  Vernet,  in  particular, 
was  a  very  beautiful  landscape.  We  may  ako  mention  as 
among  the  most  remarkable  old  pictures,  the  Joseph  and  his 
Brethren,  by  an  unknown  master,  the  St.  Francis,  by  Tinto- 
retto, and  the  St.  Anthony,  by  Luca  Giordano,  all  large 
pieces,  from  the  collection  of  Mrs.  Meade ;  the  Lady  drink" 
ing,  by  Terbourg;  the  Dying  Seneca,  by  Vandyck;  the 
f^tews  of  Venice,  by  Canaletd,  and  the  head  of  a  Madonna, 
by  Sasso-Ferrato.  These,  with  a  number  of  others,  to  which 
we  cannot  now  advert,  are  well  entitled  to  a  more  detailed 
notice ;  but  the  space  we  have  already  occupied  reminds  us 
that  we  must  leave  this  branch  of  the  subject  and  proceed  to 
make  some  remarks  on  a  few  very  highly  finished  copies  of 
originals  in  Europe,  which  formed  a  part  of  the  Exhibition. 


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S24  Ewhibiiion  of  Pi^urei  at  the  [Oct 

.  The  most  interesting  of  these  was  a  copy  of  the  celebrated 
Descent  from  the  Cross  of  Rubens,  by  F.  de  Brackelaer,  a 
Flemish  artist  of  great  merit.  It  has  recently  been  impcMted 
from  Europe  by  Colonel  Perkins,  the  distinguished  President 
of  the  Atheneum,  whose  continued  exertions  and  liberal  con- 
tributions for  the  promotion  of  learning  and  the  arts,  have 
justly  entitled  him  to  the  gratitude  of  the  community.  The 
work  was  executed  under  very  favorable  circumstances,  the 
original  having  been  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  artist,  on  its 
return  from  Paris,  for  the  purpose  of  being  prepared  for  its 
new  position  in  the  Cathedral  at  Antwerp.  The  ^ze  of  the 
copy  is  greatly  reduced  from  that  of  the  origbal,  but  it  gives 
in  other  respects  a  most  exact  and  faithful  representation  of 
it,  and  is  itself  a  very  superior  picture.  It  includes  the  two 
companion-pieces,  which  were  placed  on  the  right  and  left 
of  the  Descent  from  the  Cross,  when  it  occupied  its  original 
place  as  the  altar-piece  of  the  Cathedral,  and  which  represent 
respectively  the  Salutation  of  Mary  and  Elizabeth  and  Simeon 
bearing  Christ  in  his  arms. 

The  Descent  from  the  Cross  of  Rubens  is,  as  is  well 
known  to  every  lover  of  the  art,  the  master-piece  and  pride  of 
the  Flemish  school,  as  the  Transfiguration  of  Raphael  is  of 
the  Italian,  and  the  Moses  striking  the  Rock,  by  Murillo,  of 
the  Spanish.  In  this  noble  production  the  characteristic  beau- 
ties of  the  great  author,  and  of  the  school  which  he  adorned, 
are  exhibited  in  their  highest  perfection,  and  with  the  least  mix- 
ture of  the  defects  by  which  they  were  accompanied.  The 
richness  and  beauty  of  the  coloring,  the  skill  displayed  in  the 
grouping  of  the  figures,  and  the  truth,  with  which  they  exhibit 
the  passions  and  affections  belonging  to  their  respective  charac- 
ters, are  really  admirable,  and  we  scarcely  notice  in  the  midst 
of  so  many  excellences  the  slight  defects  in  tASte-^-^estigia 
ruris — that  linger  even  here  round  the  pencil  of  the  illustrious 
Fleming  and  depress  his  work  a  little  below  the  complete  per- 
fection of  the  unrivalled  Italians.  It  is  remarkable  that  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  who  appears  from  his  Lectures  to  have  been 
hardly  satisfied,  at  least  on  a  first  inspection,  with  the  manner 
of  Raphael,  bestows  the  most  unqualified  commendation  on 
this  production  of  Rubens. 

*  The  Christ' — ^he  remarks,  as  quoted  in  the  Catalogue — *  is 
one  of  the  finest  figures  that  were  ever  invented.  It  is  most  cor- 
rectly drawn,  and  in  an  attitude  of  the  utmost  difficult  to  exe- 


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cute.  The  hanging  of  the  head  on  the  shoulder,  and  the  fall- 
ing of  the  body  on  one  side  give  such  an  appearance  of  the 
heaviness  of  death,  that  nothing  can  exceed  it.' 

On  the  companion-piece  representing  Simeon  bearing  Christ 
in  his  Arms  J  Sir  Joshua  remarks  that  it  is  '  admirable  indeed ;  the 
head  of  the  priest  more  especially,  which  nothing  can  exceed  ; 
the  expression,  drawing,  coloring,  are  beyond  all  description, 
and  as  fresh  as  if  the  piece  were  just  painted.' 

This  superb  picture  was  transferred  to  Paris  by  the  French 
when  they  took  possession  of  the  Netherlands,  and  remained  for 
several  years  in  the  Gallery  of  the  Louvre,  where  we  had  the 
pleasure  of  seeing  it  in  1812.  It  appeared  to  advantage  in  imme- 
diate comparison  with  the  finest  works  of  the  greatest  painters  of 
all  countries,  among  which  it  was  then  placed,  and  was  regarded 
by  all  as  one  of  the  two  or  three  first,  by  some  as  the  very  first 
piece  in  the  collection.  It  approaches  in  fact  more  nearly  to 
perfection  in  its  way,  than  perhaps  any  other  picture  that  could 
be  named,  and  if  it  be  inferior  to  some,  it  is  only  because  the 
artist  habitually  exhibits  in  his  most  successful  efforts  somewhat 
less  purity  of  taste  and  intellectual,  or,  as  it  is  often  called,  ideal 
expression,  than  would  be  required  for  the  attainment  of  the 
highest  degree  of  excellence.  In  many  of  his  pieces  his  defi- 
ciency in  these  respects  is  very  remarkable,  and  forms  a  sin- 
gular contrast  with  his  extraordinary  success  in  others.  It  is 
particularly  conspicuous  in  his  female  figures,  which  were  evi- 
dently copied  directly  from  nature  in  a  climate  where  the  sex 
is  distinguished  for  freshness  and  beauty  of  complexion,  ratlier 
than  delicate  proportions  or  graceful  symmetry  of  form.  It  is 
wonderful  that  Rubens  who  travelled  much,  and  visited  all 
parts  of  Europe,  did  not  learn  fiom  his  acquaintance  with  the 
fair  of  other  regions,  to  correct  his  original  notions  of  female 
beauty.  His  imagination  appears  to  have  dwelled  with  una- 
bated fondness  to  the  last  upon  the  solid  charms  of  his  country- 
women which  were  probably  endeared  to  him  by  the  recollec- 
tions of  his  youthful  loves.  His  Three  Graces  in  the  museum 
at  Madrid  exhibit  under  a  transparent  delicacy  of  complexion, 
a  largeness  of  bone  and  firmness  of  muscle,  that  would  do 
honor  to  the  champion  of  England.  They  form  a  strange 
contrast  with  the  slender  and  symmetrical  brunettes  of  Titian, 
that  figure  in  their  neighborhood.  Complete  perfection  is, 
however,  not  to  be  expected  in  any  human  production ;  and 
notwithstanding  some  very  obvious  faults,  the  works  of  Rubens 

VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  42 


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326  Exhibition  of  Pictures  at  the  [Oct. 

will  always  be  viewed  as  among  the  master-pieces  of  the  art. 
For  brilliancy  and  richness  of  coloring  and  fertility  of  inven- 
tion, they  perhaps  excel  all  others,  and  if  they  want  the  ideal 
expression  of  the  Italians,  they  are  animated  by  an  admirable 
spirit  and  vivacity,  which  are  die  best  substitutes  that  could  be 
found  for  that  still  superior  quality.  As  a  series  of  paintings 
on  the  same  subject  we  are  acquainted  with  none  in  the  whole 
compass  of  the  art  to  be  compared  with  tlie  twelve  on  the  Mar- 
riage of  Catherine  de  Medicisj  that  are  now  exhibited  in  the 
Gallery  of  the  Louvre.  These  splendid  pieces  compose  a  sort 
of  grand  epic  poem,  not  inferior  in  fire,  nature,  variety  of  char- 
acter, wide  range  of  supernatural  machinery,  and  harmonious 
disposition  of  the  various  parts  of  a  great  and  crowded  action, 
to  the  immortal  master-piece  of  heroic  song.  If  one  of  the 
works  of  Velasquez  alluded  to  above  has  been  called  the  Pain- 
ter^s  Bihhy  this  series  might  be  described  with  equal  justice  as 
an  Iliad  on  Canvass  ;  and  the  analogy  is  not  the  less  striking 
because  the  artist  conceived  and  executed  his  plan  without  the 
slightest  reminiscence  of  Homer,  nor  because  the  action  repre- 
sented is  in  every  particular  wholly  different  from  the  celebra- 
ted wars  of  Troy.  In  works  of  art  direct  imitation  never  pro- 
duces a  real  resemblance.  This  can  only  take  place  when 
minds  of  equal  power  and  kindred  genius,  working  perhaps,  as 
in  this  case,  in  different  lines,  but  under  the  influence  of  the 
same  inspiration,  and  with  tlie  materials  supplied  by  the  same 
common  nature,  bring  out  under  great  varieties  of  form,  works 
that  are  distinguished  by  the  same  general  characteristics  and 
produce  the  same  effects  on  the  imagination  and  the  heart. 
There  is  no  resemblance — for  example — ^between  the  charm- 
ing Allegro  and  Penseroso  of  Milton,  and  the  Pacifico  and 
Bellicose  of  Mason,  or  twenty  other  parallels  in  the  same  form, 
that  have  been  written  in  imitation  of  them  ;  but  we  can  easily 
find  one  in  the  delightful  painting  where  tlie  Muses  of  Tragedy 
and  Comedy — each  with  her  appropriate  expression  and  cos- 
tume— are  strugglmg  for  the  exclusive  possession  of  their  com- 
mon favorite  Garrick,  although  the  idea  of  Milton  and  his 
poem  probably  never  once  occurred  to  the  mmd  of  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds  while  he  was  planning  and  executing  the  work. 

The  superiority  of  the  works  of  Rubens  is  not  more  extraor- 
dinary than  the  facility  with  which  he  appears  to  have  produced 
them.  The  collections  of  Europe  are  crowded  with  his  pamt- 
ings,  frequently  of  large  size,  and  when  we  consider  the  length 


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1830.]  Athenxeum  Gallery.  327 

of  time  which  is  employed  by  many  artists  of  great  merit  upon 
a  single  piece,  we  are  disposed  to  wonder  that  he  was  able  to 
execute  so  much.  It  is  not  impossible  that  in  the  latter  part  of 
his  life  he  availed  himself  to  a  considerable  extent  of  the  labor 
of  assistants  and  pupils ;  but  it  is  well  known  that  he  wrought 
with  great  facility  and  threw  off  many  of  his  admirable  works 
at  a  single  heat.  The  same  was  the  case  with  some  of  the 
other  great  masters  who  lived  in  the  best  days  of  the  art, 
and  it  seems  to  be  chiefly  at  a  later  and  less  brilliant  period 
that  we  find  their  successors  adopting  a  different  method,  and 
substituting  the  slow  results  of  patient  and  reiterated  toil  for  the 
first  glowing  effusions  of  genius.  There  is  no  doubt  an  apti- 
tude m  different  minds  to  proceed  by  different  methods,  and  a 
man  of  merit  can  commonly  work  better  in  the  way  to  which 
he  feels  himself  naturally  disposed  than  in  any  other ;  but  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  much  is  gained  in  painting,  poetry,  or  any 
other  art,  by  the  long  delay  arid  repeated  revision  by  which 
some  persons  are  accustomed  to  ripen  their  productions.  An 
artist  who  has  cultivated  his  taste  by  the  usual  methods,  and 
reached  the  maturity  of  his  judgment,  has  acquired  all  the 
talent  he  will  ever  possess,  and  the  more  freely  and  fearlessly 
he  exercises  it,  the  better  in  general  will  be  the  product.  We 
mean  not  of  course  to  recommend  an  inconsiderate  precipi- 
tancy or  to  exclude  the  process  of  revision  and  correction 
within  its  proper  limits ;  we  only  mean  to  say  that  a  work 
which  a  man  of  genius,  whether  poet,  painter,  or  orator,  throws 
off  in  a  happy  moment,  and  at  the  height  of  his  talent,  is  sub- 
stantially as  good  when  it  first  comes  from  his  mind,  as  the 
nature  of  his  subject,  and  the  extent  of  his  powers  will  allow 
him  to  make  it.  By  reviewing  it  in  a  cooler  moment,  he  may 
remove  blemishes — improve  the  disposition  of  details — ^intro- 
duce additions  of  minor  importance,  and  thus  give  the  whole  a 
finished  air,  which  will  considerably  augment  the  general  effect 
— ^but  he  cannot  possibly  by  any  revision  or  correction  change 
the  substance  of  it  for  the  better.  To  change  the  substance  of 
a  work  is,  in  other  words,  to  produce  a  new  one  on  the  same 
subject,  and  this  new  one  must,  in  general,  in  the  case  sup- 
posed, be  inferior  to  the  former,  because  it  is  produced  under 
circumstances  much  less  favorable  to  excellence.  The  want 
of  facility  which  is  experienced  by  some  artists  might,  we  fear, 
in  many  cases  be  more  correctly  described  as  a  want  of  the 
moral  courage  and  generous  self-confidence,  which  are  as  ne- 


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328  Exhibition  of  Pictures  at  the  [Oct. 

cessary  to  success  in  art  as  in  every  other  department  of  ac- 
tion. When  we  find  a  poet  who  was  capable  at  twenty  years 
of  age  of  writing  the  Pleasures  of  Hope — the  most  elegant  of 
all  juvenile  productions — ^bringing  out  nothing  else  in  the  course 
of  a  long  life  devoted  to  poetry,  but  a  few  short  firagments,  we 
see  at  once,  that  for  fear  of  hazarding  the  reputation  he  had 
acquired,  he  has  not  exhibited  the  maturity  of  his  talent,  and 
that  his  works  give  us  no  indication  of  what  he  might  have 
done  if  he  had  not  been  prevented  by  indolence  or  constitu- 
tional timidity  from  doing  his  best.  Campbell  at  twenty  was 
a  much  better  poet  than  Scott  at  thirty — ^but  the  latter  by  man- 
fully domg  as  well  as  he  could  without  fear  of  criticism,  grad- 
ually improved  his  powers  by  exercise,  and  in  the  end  has 
completely  overshadowed  the  other,  though  possessing  a  talent 
originally  much  superior  to  his  own.  The  moral  is  tiie  same 
with  the  common  proverb — ^that  faint  heart  never  won  fair 
lady — and  that  a  man  will  never  get  the  credit  of  domg  what 
he  has  too  little  confidence  in  himself  to  undertake.  Trust 
yourself,  says  Goethe,  and  others  will  trust  you. 

Wenn  du  deiner  selbst  vertrau'st 
Vertrauen  dir  die  andere  Seele. 

Our  readers  will  perhaps  think  that  there  is  little  danger  of  an 
error  on  the  score  of  excessive  diffidence  in  a  community 
where  most  of  the  citizens  are  ready  enough  to  push  their  pre- 
tensions of  all  kinds,  as  far  as  they  ought  in  reason  to  be  car- 
ried, but  we  have  in  our  view  some  cases  connected  with  the 
subject  of  this  article,  in  which  the  hints  we  have  given  might, 
we  think,  be  turned  to  account.  It  is  time,  however,  to  resume 
our  survey  of  the  Gallery. 

The  copies,  by  Meyer  of  a  large  and  beautiful  landscape  by 
Ruisdael  with  figures  by  Berghem,  and  by  our  countrymanf 
Fisher  of  the  portraits  of  Rembrandt  and  Vandyck  by  diem- 
selves  now  in  the  Gallery  of  the  Louvre,  were  highly  inter- 
esting, but  we  have  only  room  to  notice  that  of  the  Shepherd- 
ess Madonna  of  Raphael,  by  Subba.  This  picture  represents;, 
the  Virgin  at  full  length,  in.  a  standing  position  with  a  crook  in 
her  hand  ;  the  two  infants  Jesus  and  John  Baptist  standing  be- 
side her  with  their  faces  turned  upwards  to  hers  ;  the  scene  an 
open  country,  with  hills  and  woods  in  the  back  ground.  The 
artist  appears  to  have  repeated  this  subject  several  times.  We 
have  ourselves  seen  two  originals  at  raris,  and  it  is  stated  in 


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1830.]  Aihm€Rum  Gallery.  829 

the  Catalogue  that  there  is  one  at  Naples.  Of  the  two  which 
we  have  seen,  one  is  in  the  Gallery  of  the  Louvre,  and  the 
other  m  the  possession  of  our  countryman,  Samuel  Williams, 
Esq.  formerly  our  Consul  at  London,  and  now  temporarily 
resident  in  Paris.  The  latter  has  been  supposed  by  some  of 
the  British  connoisseurs  to  be  a  copy  by  another  artist,  and  for 
that  reason  commanded  a  comparatively  low  price  at  a  public 
sale  a  few  years  ago.  Its  genuineness  is,  however,  perfecdy  ap- 
parent on  its  face  to  all  who  are  acquainted  with  the  style  of  the 
great  author,  and  its  history  is  so  well  known  that  there  can  be 
no  reasonable  doubt  upon  the  subject.  It  is  traced  back  with 
certainty  for  about  two  centuries,  to  the  time  of  Cardinal  Maz- 
arin,  who  employed  it  as  the  altar-piece  of  his  private  oratory  ; 
and  in  hb  various  capacities  of  Italian,  Prince  of  the  Church, 
and  Viceroy  over  the  Queen  of  France,  was  not  likely  to  be 
cheated  in  a  painting  by  Raphael.  It  remained  in  the  posses- 
sion of  his  representatives  till  the  commencement  of  the  French 
revolution,  when  the  property  of  the  family  was  confiscated, 
and  the  paintings  sold  at  auction.  The  one  in  question  was 
purchased  by  Colonel  Trumbull,  who  happened  to  be  at  Paris 
at  the  time,  and  who,  after  keeping  it  several  years,  transferred 
it  to  Mr.  Williams.  At  the  sale  of  Mr,  Williams's  effects,  it 
was  offered  with  the  rest,  but  brought  so  low  a  price  tliat  it  was 
bought  in  for  the  owner.  From  the  peculiar  circumstances 
under  which  it  is  now  placed,  it  might  probably  be  obtained  for 
a  sum  considerably  below  its  real  value,  and  would  form  a 
most  important  and  interesting  addition  to  any  of  our  collec- 
tions. The  drawmg  and  coloring  are  in  the  best  manner  of 
the  author,  and  although  the  principal  figure  is  rather  deficient 
in  expression,  the  picture  has  always  been  regarded  as  a  capi- 
tal work.  So  far  as  we  are  informed,  there  is  no  original 
painting  by  Raphael  in  this  country,  and  we  should  be  highly 
gratified  if  it  could  be  found  practicable  to  improve  the  present 
opportunity  for  placing  a  very  fine  one  in  the  Gallery  of  the 
Athenaeum. 

We  come  now  to  that  part  of  the  Exhibition  which  consisted 
of  the  works  of  our  native  artists,  and  we  regret  that  their 
number  and  importance  were  not  such  as  to  authorise  us  to 
devote  to  the  examination  of  them  a  larger  portion  of  the  pres- 
ent article.  The  splendid  Sortie  from  Gibraltar  by  Trum- 
bidl,  which  belongs  to  the  Athenaeum,  still  retains  its  place,  but 
it  is  too  well  known  to  the  public  to  require  or  admit  of  a  de- 


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330  Exhibition  of  Pieturu  at  the  [Oct 

tailed  notice.  There  were  also,  beside  the  Mother  and  ChSd, 
which  is  the  property  of  the  institutioD,  two  very  beautiful 
landscapes  by  Allston,  belonging  respectively  to  Mr.  Weeks  of 
New  York,  and  Mr.  S.  A.  Eliot  of  this  city,  a  number  of  val- 
uable works  from  the  pencils  of  Sully,  Doughty,  Fisher,  and 
Salmon,  and  several  interesting  portraits,  particularly  that  of 
the  Chief  Justice  of  the  United  States  by  Harding.  Without 
intending  to  undervalue  the  merit  or  importance  of  these 
productions,  we  cannot  but  remark,  that  they  give  a  very 
imperfect  notion  of  the  richness  and  abundance  of  the  re- 
cent labors  of  our  native  artists.  Few  countries  have  in 
fact  done  more  within  the  last  half-century  in  the  way  of 
painting  than  this.  We  know  of  none  that  can  produce  a  more 
respectable  list  of  painters  who  have  flourished  within  that 
period,  than  is  composed  by  the  names  of  West,  Copley,  Trum- 
bull, Allston,  Newton,  Leslie,  Stuart,  and  Sully,  to  which  might 
be  added  those  of  many  other  younger  aspirants  of  undoubted 
merit.  Several  of  these  distinguished  artists  have  been  and 
stiU  are  the  principal  ornaments  of  the  British  school,  which, 
for  the  time  in  question,  belongs  at  least  as  much  to  the  United 
States  as  to  the  mother-country.  England  has  in  fact  only 
three  names  of  equal  pretensions  and  of  native  origin  to  add  to 
the  above  list — ^we  mean  those  of  Reynolds,  Wilkie,  and  Law- 
rence. The  first  of  these,  had  he  devoted  himself  exclusively 
to  the  higher  walks  of  his  art,  would  have  probably  placed  him- 
self at  the  head  of  modem  painters,  by  which  we  mean  those 
of  the  last  century — and  even  as  it  is — although  he  gave  up  his 
pencil  almost  wholly  to  portraits — ^he  is  perhaps  very  fairly  en- 
titled to  that  high  eminence.  Wilkie  and  Lawrence  are  excel- 
lent, each  in  his  line — which  is  not,  however,  in  either  case  the 
highest — ^but  the  combined  merit  of  the  three,  with  that  of  their 
inferior  fellow-laborers — does  not  authorise  the  mother-country 
to  claim  more  than  an  equal  share  of  the  glory  of  the  conmion 
school.  The  style  of  painting  in  France  during  the  same  pe- 
riod has  been  decidedly  vicious,  and  although  it  has  obtained  a 
temporary  popularity  in  that  country  is  not  approved  by  com- 
petent judges  from  any  other.  In  die  rest  of  Europe  there  has 
been  little  or  no  activity  in  this  branch  of  art ;  so  that  the 
United  States — as  we  remarked  above — ^have  done  at  least  as 
much  for  painting  during  the  last  half-century,  as  any  other 
country.  We  hope  that  eflbrts  will  be  made  to  procure  for  the 
future  Exhibitions  a  larger  number  of  the  choice  products  of 


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1830.]  Athenaum  GaUery.  331 

the  native  pencil.  In  the  meantime  without  confining  ourselves 
to  those  which  were  brought  forward  on  this  occasion,  we  pro- 
pose to  conclude  the  article  with  a  few  general  remarks  upcm 
the  style  and  works  of  some  of  the  eminent  American  artiste, 
whose  names  are  recapitulated  above. 

That  of  West  is  commonly  and  in  some  respects  deservedly 
placed  at  the  head  of  the  list.  The  length  of  his  carea^ — Im 
conspicuous  position  at  the  head  of  the  British  Academy  and  the 
indefatigable  perseverance  with  which  he  pursued  his  labors  up 
to  the  very  close  of  his  protracted  life — all  these  circumstances 
placed  him  in  full  relief  before  the  public,  and  perhaps  raised 
his  reputation  a  litde  higher  than  it  will  be  maintained  by  the 
impartial  judgment  of  posterity.  Perceiving  or  supposing  that 
his  merit  was  exaggerated,  a  certain  number  of  persons  were 
induced,  as  always  happens  in  similar  cases  by  a  sort  of  reac- 
tion, to  depreciate  the  value  of  his  works,  and  even  to  deny 
altogether  his  pretensions  to  excellence.  Without  speaking  of 
Peter  Pindar,  who  attacked  him  merely  because  he  was  pat- 
ronised by  the  King,  we  may  find  the  feeling  to  which  we  al- 
lude exhibited  in  a  quarter  where  we  had  a  right  to  look  for 
good  taste  and  political  impartiality.  Lord  Bjrron,  in  one  of 
his  poems  describes  our  illustrious  countryman  as 

'  the  dotard  West, 

Europe's  wotst  dauber  and  poor  England's  best' 

But  even  here  the  noble  bard,  however  opposite  may  have 
been  his  intention,  has  borne  a  sort  of  involuntary  testimony  to 
the  high  deserts  of  the  pamter.  The  British  school,  which  in 
his  wayward  humor  he  represents  as  the  worst  in  Europe,  was 
undoubtedly  at  that  time  and  still  is  the  best,  and  by  putting 
West  at  the  head  of  it  he  rendered  him  in  fact  all  the  justice 
which  his  warmest  friends  could  possibly  have  claimed  for 
him.  His  real  merit  was  very  considerable,  although  he  may 
not  have  risen  precisely  to  the  level  of  the  greatest  masters  of 
other  times.  It  was  sufiiciently  evinced  by  the  great  popu- 
larity and  success  of  his  last  and  best  pieces  the  Christ 
Rgectedy  and  the  grand  composition  of  Death  on  the  Pale 
Horse.  We  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  these  noble  paintings 
when  they  were  first  brought  out  at  London,  and  witnessed 
the  enthusiasm  which  they  excited  among  the  lovers  of  the 
arts  and  the  public  at  large.  The  sum  of  ten  thousand  pounds 
was  offered  for  the  latter  work — a  higher  price  probably  than 


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332  Exhibition  of  Pictures  at  the  [Oct 

was  ever  commanded  by  any  other  picture.  As  there  was 
nothing  meretricious  in  the  style  of  West,  and  as  the  public  of 
a  city  like  London  is  not  often  very  widely  mistaken  in  matters 
wholly  unconnected  with  any  accidental  or  temporary  interest, 
it  is  impossible  to  account  for  this  extraordinary  vogue  without 
allowing  to  the  artist  a  talent  of  a  very  high  order.  His  works 
exhibit  in  reality  almost  all  the  qualities  that  designate  a  first- 
rate  painting.  His  walk  lay  in  tlie  highest  department  of  the  art. 
His  subjects  were  always  of  a  poetical  cast,  and  he  treated  them 
all  in  a  large,  free  and  generous  spirit ;  and  while  he  possessed 
the  principal  requisites  of  a  great  painter  his  manner  was  almost 
wholly  free  from  fauks.  He  had  in  particular  the  great  merit 
of  avoiding  the  unnatural  style  of  coloring  which  prevailed  in  the 
neighboring  kingdom  and  seemed  likely  at  one  time  to  corrupt 
the  taste  of  the  rest  of  Europe.  His  excellent  moral  charac- 
ter contributed  much  to  his  talent  and  still  more  to  his  fortune. 
It  kept  him  steady  to  his  profession  during  a  period  of  violent 
political  convulsions,  which  swept  away  from  their  natural  oc- 
cupation almost  all  the  high  and  stirring  spirits.  It  recom- 
mended him  to  the  favor  of  the  King,  and  through  that  to  the 
Presidency  df  the  Academy,  and  it  preserved  his  healtli  and 
capacity  for  constant  employment  to  the  last  moment  of  a  very 
long  life.  He  enjoyed  the  rare  happiness  of  realising  in  his 
lifetime  his  full  deserts  on  the  score  of  reputation — ^perhaps 
something  more — ^and  of  laboring  with  undiminished  activity  and 
a  constant  increase  of  fame  beyond  the  ordinary  term  of  human 
existence.  We  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  frequendy 
in  his  last  days,  and  have  seldom  known  a  more  striking  exam- 
ple of  a  serene  and  happy  old  age.  He  was  then  at  nearly 
eighty  a  healthy,  handsome  man,  busily  occupied  upon  his  last 
and  greatest  works,  and  enjoying  the  vogue  which  they  suc- 
cessively obtamed  on  their  first  exhibition.  The  natural  sim- 
plicity and  modesty  of  his  manner  were  mingled  with  a  slight 
air  of  self-importance  and  conscious  satisfaction  with  his  recent 
success,  which  appeared  rather  gracefiil  than  otherwise  in  one 
so  much  respected  and  so  far  advanced  in  years.  The  fi-esh- 
ness  and  vigor  of  his  mind  were  truly  remarkable.  He  was 
still  alive  to  every  means  of  improving  himself,  and  when  the 
Athenian  marbles  were  received  in  England,  he  addressed  a 
printed  letter  to  Lord  Elgin,  in  which  he  spoke  of  this  event 
as  forming  a  sort  of  epoch  in  his  life,  and  anticipated  the  great 
advantage  which  he  should  derive  from  the  study  of  these  ad- 


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1830.]  Athenaum  Gallery.  333 

mirable  remains  of  antiquity  in  the  further  prosecution  of  his 
labors,  which,  however,  were  very  soon  after  brought  to  a 
close. 

We  have  said  above  that  the  manner  of  West  was  almost 
wholly  free  from  faults.  His  conceptions  are  noble,  his  draw- 
ing correct,  his  coloring  true,  and  his  composition  skilful  and 
spirited.  If  we  miss  any  thing  in  his  paintings  it  is,  perhaps, 
the  secret  indescribable  charm  of  coloring,  which,  like  the  cu- 
rious felicity  of  language  in  some  writers,  seems  to  be  a  sort  of 
natural  *  grace,  beyond  the  reach  of  art,'  but  affording,  at  the 
same  time,  a  higher  delight  than  any  of  those  beauties,  which 
can  be  more  distinctly  analysed  and  defined.  Of  this  Sir 
Joshua  Reynolds  possessed  a  larger  share  than  West,  and  will 
probably  on  that  account  be  always  ranked  above  him  in  the 
general  scale  of  merit. 

The  paintings  of  West,  which  remained  in  his  possession  at 
his  death,  were  offered  for  sale  soon  after,  and  we  have  anx- 
iously desired,  that  the  whole  or  a  portion  of  them  should  have 
taken  the  direction  of  this  country.  They  would  have  formed 
a  most  interesting  and  valuable  addition  to  our  collections,  and 
would  then  have  reached  what  may  fairly  be  considered  their 
natural  destination,  the  birth-place  and  original  home  of  their 
author.  We  are  not  exactly  informed  what  disposition  has  been 
made  of  them,  and  venture  to  hope  that  the  expectation  we 
have  expressed  may  still,  in  part  at  least,  be  realized. 

The  general  reputation  of  Trumbull  is  hardly  equal  to  that 
of  West,  although  the  Sortie  from  Gibraltar  \s  perhaps  superior 
in  effect  to  any  single  production  of  the  latter  artist.  This 
noble  picture  may  justly  be  ranked  with  the  finest  productions 
of  the  pencil,  and  would  forever  secure  to  its  author,  had  he 
done  nothing  else,  a  rank  with  the  greatest  masters  of  the  art. 
If  his  success  has  been  on  the  whole  inferior  to  that  of  his 
illustrious  contemporary,  it  is  probably  because  his  devotion  to 
his  profession  has  not  been  so  exclusive.  The  important  mili- 
tary and  political  occupations,  in  which  he  was  engaged  during 
a  considerable  portion  of  the  most  active  part  of  his  life,  di- 
verted his  attention  for  the  time  from  painting,  and  when  he 
afterwards  resumed  the  pencil  he  seemed  to  have  lost  in  some 
degree  the  vigor  and  freshness  of  his  youthful  talent.  Hence 
his  reputation  has  not  continued  to  increase  with  his  years,  and 
his  last  works  have  not,  like  those  of  West,  been  regarded  as 
hiis  best.     The  four  great  paintings,  on  subjects  connected 

VOL.  xxxi. — NO.  69.  43 


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334  Exhibition  of  Picture$  at  th§  [Oct. 

with  the  revolutionary  war,  which  he  executed  for  Congress, 
have,  on  the  whole,  hardly  satisfied  the  public  expectation,  and 
for  that  reason  have  perhaps  been  depreciated  below  their  real 
worth.  They  are  all  valuable  pieces,  and  the  Declaration  of 
Independence^  which  we  look  upon  as  the  best  of  the  series,  b 
one  of  a  very  high  order.  They  derive  a  great  additional  in- 
terest from  exhibiting  portraits,  as  far  as  they  could  be  ob- 
tained, of  the  Signers  of  the  Declaration,  and  of  the  other 
patriots  and  warriors,  who  took  a  part  in  the  memon^le  action 
of  the  Revolution.  We  incline  to  believe  that  these  paintings, 
should  the  liberality  of  Congress  allow  the  appropriation  neces^ 
sary  for  keeping  them  in  existence,  will  gradually  gain  upon  the 
public  opinion,  both  as  works  of  art  and  as  historical  memo- 
rials, and  be  viewed  by  the  next  generation  with  more  interest 
than  they  are  by  the  present  one. 

Of  our  living  native  artists,  Mr.  Allston  is  the  one,  to  whose 
future  productions  the  country  looks  with  reason  for  the  most 
brilliant  exhibitions  of  talent,  and  the  most  valuable  accessions  to 
our  public  and  private  collections.  Few  painters  have  ever  pos- 
sessed at  his  age  a  higher  reputation,  or  one  acquired  by  nobler 
means ;  and  from  his  character  and  habits  there  is  room  to  sup- 
pose that  his  fame  will  continue  to  mcrease,  like  that  of  West, 
to  the  last  period  of  his  labors.  Inspired  by  that  exckisive  and 
passionate  love  for  his  professbn,  which  is  the  sure  character- 
istic of  a  real  genius  for  it,  and  by  a  loftv  and  generous  disin- 
terestedness, which  has  prevented  him  from  consecrating  hb 
pencil  to  its  lower  and  more  lucrative  departments,  he  has, 
under  some  discouragements,  steadily  confined  himself  to  his- 
torical, scriptural  and  poetical  subiects,  and  has  formed  his 
manner  upon  the  highest  standard  of  excellence.  His  con- 
ceptions are  uniformly  happy,  and,  when  the  subject  requires  it, 
sublime ;  his  taste  and  skill  in  the  mechanical  details  of  his 
art  complete ;  and  he  knows  how  to  give  his  works  the  secret 
charm  to  which  we  alluded  before,  and  which  adds  the  last 
finish  to  every  other  beauty.  If  there  be  any  thing  to  com- 
plain of  in  him,  it  is  that  he  is  not  satisfied  himself  with  the 
degree  of  merit,  which  would  satisfy  every  one  else,  and  em- 
ploys in  correcting,  maturing  and  repainting  a  single  piece,  not 
always  perhaps  widi  any  real  accession  of  efifect,  the  time  and 
labor  which  would  have  been  sufficient  for  completing  a  dozen. 
This  extreme  fastidiousness  may  have  been  at  an  earlier  period 
of  life  a  virtue,  and  is  probably  one  of  the  qualities,  which 


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1830.]  Athenaum  Gallery.  335 

have  enabled  the  artist  to  realize  the  high  idea  of  excellence, 
which  originally  warmed  his  young  fancy.  But,  if  we  might 
venture  to  express  an  opinion  on  the  subject,  we  should  say 
that  the  time  has  now  arrived  when  he  might  throw  it  off  with 
advantage,  and  allow  himself  a  greater  rapidity  of  execution. 
His  mannei  is  formed.  He  possesses  his  talent,  whatever  it 
is,  and,  as  we  remarked  above,  when  we  treated  the  same 
question  in  general  terms,  the  more  freely  and  fearlessly  he 
exercises  it,  the  more  natural  and  spirited,  and,  on  the  whole, 
the  better  will  be  the  product.  We  trust  that  he  will  not  permit 
another  year  to  pass  over  without  putting  the  last  hand  to  the 
grand  heroic  composition,  upon  which  he  has  been  employed 
so  many,  and  that  this  will  be  followed  by  a  series  of  others  of 
equal  merit  and  of  a  rather  more  rapid  growth.  By  this 
change  in  his  manner  of  working  we  believe  that  he  would 
gain  in  ease  and  spirit  without  sacrificing  any  real  beauty,  and 
would  labor,  on  the  whole,  with  infinitely  more  satisfaction  and 
profit  to  himself  and  the  public  than  he  does  now.  We  offer 
these  remarks,  however,  with  all  the  deference  that  is  due  from 
mere  amateurs  to  an  artist  of  consummate  genius,  who  is  after 
all  the  only  true  judge  of  effect  in  his  art  and  of  the  best 
means  of  producing  it. 

The  two  landscapes  by  Mr.  Allston,  which  were  exhibited 
this  year,  were  both  very  beautiful  in  different  ways.  The  one 
belonging  to  Mr.  Eliot  is,  we  think,  in  the  happiest  manner. 
It  has  the  warmth  and  softness  of  coloring  of  Claude,  and  is,  as 
far  as  we  are  able  to  judge,  m  no  way  inferior  to  the  fine  produc- 
tions of  that  artist.  The  Mother  and  ChUd^  which  belongs  to 
the  institution,  is  a  highly  interesting  little  piece,  upon  the  merit 
of  which  there  has  been,  however,  some  difference  of  opinion. 
If  we  may  venture  to  offer  our  sentiments,  we  should  say  that 
the  piece  is  beautifully  finished  and  quite  perfect  in  every 
thing  that  belongs  to  tlie  mechanical  details  of  the  art.  The 
coloring  of  the  body  of  the  bfant  in  particular  is  as  true  to 
nature  as  it  could  possibly  be  made,  and  is  fully  equal  to  any 
that  we  have  seen  from  the  pencil  of  Titian.  The  artist  does 
not  seem  to  have  been  so  fortunate  in  the  drawing  of  the  in- 
fant, who  has  too  little  fulness,  as  well  as  too  much  meaning 
in  his  face,  for  so  young  a  child.  The  expression  of  the 
countenance  of  the  mother  is  rather  uncertain,  and  her  face  is 
thrown  into  a  sort  of  mysterious  shade,  for  which  the  spec- 
tator is  not  very  well  able  to  account.     The  piece,  nowever, 


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336  Exhibition  of  Pictures.  [Oct 

taken  as  a  whole,  is  a  first-rate  work,  and  forms  one  of  the 
choicest  ornaments  of  the  Athenaeum  Gallery. 

We  regret  that  a  larger  number  of  the  paintings  of  Mr, 
Allston  were  not  exhibited  on  this  occasion.  We  should 
gladly  have  seen  in  the  Gallery  the  Valentine  of  Mr.  Ticknor, 
the  Miriam  of  Mr.  Sears,  the  Jeremiah  of  Miss  Gibbs,  and 
the  other  fine  productions  of -the  same  artist,  belonging  to  other 
gentlemen  in  this  country.  These  paintings,  while  they  are 
kept  in  the  houses  of  their  owners,  are  seen  by  a  very  limited 
number  of  persons,  and  it  is  much  to  be  desired,  as  well  for  the 
improvement  of  the  public  taste,  as  for  the  mere  gratification  of 
the  curious,  that  they  should  be  displayed  from  time  to  time 
in  a  place  where  they  can  be  fireely  examined  at  leisure  by  the 
whole  community.  The  advantage  and  satisfaction,  which  the 
public  would  derive  from  such  an  exhibition,  would  afibrd,  we 
are  sure,  an  ample  compensation  to  the  liberal  proprietors  for 
any  trifling  sacrifice  of  their  own  convenience,  that  might  be 
required  by  such  an  arrangement. 

We  had  intended  to  offer  a  few  remarks  on  the  style  and 
works  of  our  distinguished  countrymen,  Newton  and  Leslie, 
and  also  on  the  landscapes  of  Doughty,  Fisher  and  Salmon, 
and  some  of  the  portraits  that  were  exhibited  on  this  occasion ; 
but  we  have  already  passed  the  just  limits  of  an  article,  and  must 
reserve  them  for  a  future  one.  The  most  remarkable  portrait  was 
undoubtedly  that  of  Chief-Justice  Marshall,  painted  by  Harding 
for  the  Athenaeum.  It  has  been  pronounced  by  those,  who  are 
most  familiar  with  the  appearance  of  the  illustrious  original,  to 
be  a  striking  likeness,  and  it  certainly  does  great  credit  to  the 
painter,  who  must,  however,  make  some  further  advances  m 
his  art  before  he  can  aspire  to  rival  the  mature  fame  of  Stuart. 
The  landscapes  of  Fisher  as  well  as  his  copies  from  Rem- 
brandt and  Vandyck  were  very  beautiful.  Those  of  Doughty 
were  hardly  less  so,  and  we  regret  that  the  sale  of  them  at  the 
present  moment  of  depression  in  business  has  not  afforded  the 
artist  the  compensation  for  his  labor,  which  he  had  a  right  to 
expect  from  the  liberality  and  good  taste  of  the  citizens  of 
this  metropolis.  The  works  of  Salmon  have  a  more  decid- 
edly characteristic  manner  than  those  of  Doughty  or  Fisher, 
and  are,  we  believe,  in  general  greater  favorites  with  the  pub- 
lic. The  three  artists  are  all  capable  of  rising  by  a  proper 
course  of  study  and  practice  to  a  high  degree  of  excellence^ 
and  we  trust  that  they  will  receive  from  their  countrymen  that 


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1880>]  iHwtVB  Hebrew  Poetry.  Vtt: 

encouragement,  which  is  absolutely  necessary  to  enable  them 
to  proceed  in  their  labors  with  spirit  and  success.  A  copy,  by 
Sully,  of  a  female  head  by  Guido,  and  of  a  Oipty  from  a. 
French  artist,  attracted  some  attention.  The  Brtdal  Eve  of 
Miss  Sully,  if  not  in  the  purest  style  of  coloring,  was  curiou9 
as  a  specimen  of  the  French  manner,  in  itself  essentially 
vicious.  The  most  valuable  efibrt  of  female  genius  exhibited 
on  this  occasion  was  a  landscape  by  Miss  ScoUay. 

It  is  time,  however,  to  close  these  remarks.  Before  w^ 
quit  the  Gallery  we  cannot  refrain  from  expressing  the  pleas- 
ure with  which  we  have  viewed  the  busts  in  marble  of  John 
Quincy  Adams  and  Mr.  Quincy  by  Greenough,  who  is  also, 
we  are  informed,  the  inventor  of  the  plan  of  the  Bunker*HilI 
Monument.  The  great  merit  of  this  design  furnishes  itself  a 
strong  presumption  in  favor  of  the  taste  and  talent  of  th& 
author.  He  is  now,  we  believe,  pursuing  his  studies  at  Flor- 
ence, and  we  cannot  but  form  very  high  expectations  from  the 
future  progress  of  a  career  that  opens  with  so  fine  a  promise. 


Art.  IV. — Lectures  on  the  Sacred  Poetry  of  the  Hebrews. 
By  Robert  Lowth,  D.  D.  Lord  Bishop  of  London. 
Translated  fix)m  the  original  Latin,  by  G.  Gregory, 
F.  A.  S.  A  new  edition,  with  Notes,  by  Calvin  E. 
Stowe,  a.  M.    Andover.     1829. 

The  time  has  gone  by,  in  which  an  editor  would  have 
thought  it  necessary  to  prefix  an  apology  for  presenting  to  the 
public  an  edition  of  this  master-piece  of  Lowth's  genius— -his 
Lectures  on  the  Hebrew  Poetry.  In  regard  to  such  a  book  men 
will  not  now  ask,  as  seems  actually  to  have  been  done,  even  in 
Germany,  when  Michaelis  first  presented  this  work  to  his 
countrymen, — cut  bono  ?  They  begin  to  feel  and  enjoy,  with 
something  like  a  true  relish,  the  indescribable  beauty  of  the 
sacred  poets.  This  exquisite  fountain,  so  long  hidden  from  the 
eye,  and  unvisited,  even  by  the  footsteps  of  wanderers,  has  at 
length  been  unsealed ;  the  sere  leaves  and  the  accumulated 
mosses  have  been  removed  from  its  sparkling  purity  5  the  world 
has  tasted  of  its  freshness,  and  it  can  never  again  be  restrained 
ia  its  free  flow.     In  an  intellectual  as  well  as  a  moral  sense,  it 


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S38  LowMb  Ekbreic  Poetry.  [Oct 

makes  the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  be  glad,  and  the 
desert  blossom  as  the  rose.  It  has  blessed  the  individual 
minds,  who  have  drunk  deep  of  its  inspiration,  with  a  vividness 
of  fancy,  a  grandeur  of  imagination,  an  original  simplicity  and 
purity  of  thought,  a  power  of  sublime  expression  and  imagery, 
and  a  reverence  for  all  that  is  wise  and  good,  which  might  in 
vain  have  been  sought  from  the  study  of  the  literature  of  all 
other  nations.  The  genius  of  Milton  was  early  baptized  in 
this  fountab.     It  was  from 

^  Siloa's  brook,  that  flowed 

Fast  by  the  oracle  of  God,' 

that  he  invoked  the  *  heavenly  muse '  to  aid  him  in  his  '  adven* 
turous  song.'  The  tones  of  the  Hebrew  language  came  to  his 
ear  with  a  near  and  familiar  accent,  like  that  of  his  maternal 
dialect.  He  had  fully  mastered  its  treasures  ;  and  Paradise 
Lost  exhibits  on  every  page  the  impress  of  a  mind  most  tho* 
vqughiy  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  sacred  poets. 

Setting  aside  the  circumstance  of  their  divine  origin  and 
consequent  moral  excellence,  the  scriptures  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment present  such  a  field  of  curious,  useful,  and  noble  inves* 
ligation,  on  so  many  of  the  most  interesting  subjects,  which 
can  occupy  the  human  mind,  viewed  under  so  many  romantic, 
elevated,  and  interesting  lights,  and  they  are  besides  so  rich  in 
all  the  elements  of  true  sublimity  and  beauty,  whether  in  poetry 
or  history,  that  they  are  pre-eminendy  worthy  of  the  most 
minute  and  patient  study,  which  the  Christian  philosopher  or 
the  man  of  taste  and  genius  can  bestow  upon  them.  It  will 
hereafter,  perhaps,  be  regarded  as  an  anomaly  in  the  history  of 
the  human  intellect,  that  the  poems  of  Homer  should  for  ages 
have  attracted  the  attention  oi  the  profoundest  minds,  and  been 
made  for  a  time  almost  the  exclusive  object  of  criticism  in  all 
its  forms,  and  of  associated  inquiry  in  all  its  ten  thousand 
wanderings,  and  yet  that  the  Hebrew  writings  of  the  inspired 
volume,  diough  equally  before  the  eye  and  in  the  memory  of 
men,  should  have  been  long  passed  by  with  such  total  absence 
of  eveiy  thing  like  an  attentive  study,  as  to  have  left  the  great 
body  of  the  most  learned  critics  completely  ignorant  of  their 
true  nature,  and  gravely  mistaking  their  poetry  for  prose. 
Without  going  into  a  minute  consideration  of  the  causes  of  this 
neglect,  die  reflection  is  now  a  very  familiar  one,  that  it  has 
not  been  owing  to  the  want  of  attractiveness  and  grandeur  in 


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1830.]  LowtWs  Hebrew  Taetry.  S39 

these  writings,  for  in  these  respects  they  far  surpass  any  thing 
that  can  be  found  in  the  whole  circle  of  Grecian  and  Koman 
literature.  The  spirit  of  their  poetry  goes  deeper  into  the 
human  soul,  and  breathes  a  finer  harmony  of  feeling ;  it  calk 
foith  thoughts  that  will  never  come  at  any  other  bidding. 
The  date  of  their  oldest  poem  is  lost  in  extreme  antiquity ; 
and  this  is  a  charm,  which  would  draw  many  to  the  pages  of 
the  Grecian  bard,  who  had  not  a  soul  to  feel  or  to  appreciate 
his  poetical  beauties.  If  we  step  out  of  the  circle  ot  poetry 
into  that  of  prose,  which  in  a  critical  point  of  view  has  been 
equally  neglected,  what  is  there  in  all  the  celebrated  histories 
of  Greece  to  compare,  in  point  of  beauty,  nature,  and  a^cting 
simplicity  of  narrative,  with  some  portions  of  the  Pentateuch  ? 
It  is  a  miracle,  says  Eichhorn,  which  has  preserved  our  little 
Hebrew  library  so  perfect.  It  is  aknost  equally  a  miracle, 
which  has  kept  it,  till  within  comparatively  a  very  few  years, 
so  perfectly  unexplored. 

The  evils,  which  have  arisen  from  a  wrong  conception  of  the 
nature  of  so  great  a  portion  of  the  inspired  writings,  have  been 
multiplied.  They  have  been  the  occasion  of  almost  all  the 
objections  of  infidels  and  the  cavils  of  irreligious  men.  There 
cannot  be  a  doubt,  that  just  in  proportion  as  the  Hebrew  scrip- 
tures, especially  the  poetical  parts  of  them,  are  keenly  and 
critically  scrutinized,  such  objections  and  such  cavils  wiU  ut- 
terly fade  firom  the  mind.  I'hey  have  often  been  excited  by 
the  mistakes,  into  which  translators  and  commentatocs  have 
fallen,  when  the  Bible,  in  its  original  language,  or  rightly  inter- 
preted, would  have  precluded,  so  far  as  the  intellect  suid  not 
the  heart  is  concerned,  aU  possibility  of  their  existence.  A 
volume  would  hardly  be  sufficient  to  exhibit  the  nature  of 
these  mistakes,  and  the  various  sources  firom  which  they  have 
arisen. 

In  the  investigation  of  the  Old  Testament  scriptures  no 
one  source  of  error  has  been  more  fruitfully  prolific  than  the 
neglect  to  distinguish  between  what  is  poetry  and  what  is 
prose.  Every  man's  common  sense,  though  he  knows  nothing 
of  any  literature  but  that  of  his  own  language,  will  show  him 
the  confusion,  which  must  follow  in  the  train  of  such  a  blun- 
der. 'To  what  .strange  conclusions  should  we  be  led,'  says 
Mr.  Stowe,  *  were  we  to  interpret  Milton's  Paradise  Lost  in 
the  same  spirit  and  by  the  same  rules  with  which  we  should 
raad  President  Edwards  on  the  Freedom  of  the  Will  i '    Yet 


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S4D  LowtVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct. 

none  but  an  orientalist^  versed  in  the  character  of  Eastern  poe- 
try, and  well  acquainted  with  its  peculiarities  in  distinction  from 
prose,  can  truly  appreciate  the  consequences,  which  result  from 
confounding  the  rules  of  mterpretation  peculiar  to  each.  Tbb 
common  error  has  been  accompanied  by,  and  in  part  has 
involved,  an  entire  disregard  of  the  peculiar  genius  and  char- 
acter of  each  poet,  and  a  habit  of  perusing  and  examining  the 
Old  Testament,  as  if  it  were  all  the  work  of  one  and  the  same 
individual  genius,  and  produced  at  the  same  period,  and  under 
the  influence  of  precisely  the  same  circumstances  of  feeling 
and  condition.  It  has  involved  of  course  a  total  neglect  of  the 
parallelistic  mode  of  writing,  which  now  affi)rds  a  most  invalu- 
able means  of  arriving  at  the  sense ;  and  an  eSoti  to  find  a 
figurative  meaning  for  common  language,  which  has  produced 
results  scarcely  outdone  in  absurdity  even  by  the  maxim  of 
the  Jewish  Rabbins,  that  mountains  of  sense  are  hung  upon 
every  point  in  the  Bible.  Add  to  this  the  neglect  and  ig* 
norance  of  oriental  and  sacred  geography,  climate,  scen- 
ery, customs,  peculiarities  of  feeling,  religious  rites,  political 
institutions,  and  manners  of  domestic  life,  all  extremely  difier- 
ent  from  those  of  Occidental  countries,  and  also  varying 
ranch  in  diflerent  parts  of  the  East^— and  instead  of  being 
astonished  at  the  errors  of  past  ages,  we  shaU  find  occasion  to 
wonder  that  they  are  so  feww 

As  an  illustration,  though  an  imperfect  one,  of  the  pomt  on 
which  we  have  been  speaking,  let  us  take  an  instance  at  ran- 
dom from  the  poetry  of  Collins.  In  one  of  his  Oriental  £o 
lomea^  this  child  of  fancy  introduces  into  his  fine  description 
df  Chastity  the  following  exquisite  line. 

Cold  is  her  breast,  like  flowers  that  drink  the  dew. 

Collms  thought  that  these  Eclogues  were  extremely  defi- 
cient in  imagery  adapted  to  the  region  where  their  scene  is 
laid }  and  in  general  there  may  be  some  truth  in  the  objection, 
fiut  in  the  present  instance  no  imase  could  be  more  appropri* 
ately  beautiful ;  for  in  the  mmd  of  an  inhabitant  of  the  East- 
em  world  it  would  be  associated  with  ideas  of  the  coldness, 
that  always  accompanies  the  dew-fall  at  night  in  those  hot 
climates.  Suppose  for  a  nooment,  however,  that  a  native  of 
Greenland  should  be  criticising  this  poem.  He  would  cer- 
tainly think  that  the  glittering  bosom  of  an  iceberg,  cm  which 
tb&  salt  spray  falls  and  freezes,  would  be  a  much  happier  and 


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1830.]  LowtVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  341 

more  appropriate  image,  A  flower  that  drinks  the  dew  would 
indeed  tell  him  sweetly  of  an  unsullied  purity  and  freshnessi 
but  far  from  answering  to  the  epithet  coldi  it  would  speak  to  his 
imagination  only  of  the  sunny  skies  and  the  warm  fields  of 
Elysium.  Should  this  poem  be  read  under  the  idea  of  its 
being  mere  prose,  it  would  appear  perfecdy  unaccountable,  if 
not  absurd.  And  yet,  the  contrast  between  the  circumstances 
of  life  and  climate  at  the  North  Pole,  and  those  in  the  midst 
of  which  an  Englishman  is  situated,  seems  hardly  greater  than 
that  which  exists  between  our  own  climate  and  manners  and 
those  which  prevail  in  the  Oriental  regions.  But  if  even  an 
English  critic  should  examine  in  what  the  peculiar  aptitude  of 
such  a  resemblance  lies,  or  endeavor,  as  has  often  been  done 
with  the  figurative  language  of  the  Scriptures,  to  apply  it  to 
practical  use,  and  draw  from  it  a  grave  and  solemn  lesson,  he 
would  find  it  not  unfrequently  converted  by  such  a  process 
into  the  merest  nonsense.  Nor  is  it  only  so  with  particular  re- 
semblances. Verse  after  verse  of  the  most  enchanting  poetry 
in  existence,  if  subjected  to  such  an  examination,  would  be 
despoiled  of  all  its  beauty  and  all  its  truth. 

In  the  whole  range  of  literature,  nothing  can  aflford  a  finer 
subject  of  inquiry  than  the  Sacred  Poetry  of  the  Bible,  consid- 
ered apart  from  the  circumstance  of  its  inspiration,  with  regard 
to  the  influence  which  the  history,  climate,  scenery,  and  whole 
condition  of  the  Hebrews  exerted  in  modifying  its  spirit  and 
moulding  its  forms.  Even  a  general  and  indistinct  glance  at 
their  character  and  history  presents  them  prominendy  to  the 
mind  as  in  all  respects  the  most  extraordinary  people  b  the 
whole  world.  Amidst  all  antiquity  they  were  not  less  a  splen- 
did astonishment  in  their  national  existence,  than  they  are  now, 
over  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  a  proverb  and  a  by-word  in 
their  life  as  individuals.  While  the  grossest  darkness  of  pagan- 
ism enveloped  all  other  nations,  to  them  only,  till  the  coming  of 
our  Saviour,  was  the  knowledge  of  the  true  God  communicated, 
and  among  them  only  did  his  spiritual  worship  exist.  Shadowy 
and  dim  as  were  their  conceptions  of  that  religion,  which  beams 
in  the  fulness  of  light  and  purity  from  the  New  Testament, 
they  were,  novertlieless,  a  moral  Oasis  amidst  the  desolation  of 
surrounding  idolatry.  The  seductive  example  of  their  neigh- 
bors, and  the  singular  depravity  of  their  own  disposition,  were 
indeed  forever  inclining  them  to  depart  from  the  living  God, 
and  degrade  themselves  with  idplatrous  sensuality ;  nothing  but 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  44 


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843  LowihU  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct* 

a  constant  course  of  miracle  and  chastisemeot  could  keep  them 
in  any  degree  to  their  duty.  Still,  the  knowledge  of  the  glo-- 
rious  Jehovah,  however  unwillingly  they  obeyed  his  precepts, 
gave  to  their  moral  character  a  vast  elevation  above  that  of  the 
whole  world  around  them*  Tlie  Sovereign  of  the  Universe 
was  the  Supreme  Administrator  of  their  State.  Before  the 
glory  of  such  a  distinction,  even  at  the  commencement  of 
their  natk>nal  existence,  the  artificial  grandeur  of  the  most 
magnificent  empire  passes  mto  the  shade*  The  consciousness 
that  they  were  the  chosen  people  of  Jehovah,  for  whose  sake 
all  hostile  natbns  were  to  be  exterminated,  and  around  whose 
borders  there  should  be  a  perpetual  defence,  nourished  in 
them  a  proud  independence,  and  an  unequalled  intensity  of 
patriotic  feeling.  The  expectatk>n  of  that  glorious  Bebg,  whose 
coming  was  announced  in  the  first  revelation  from  Jehovah,  and 
declared  to  be  the  one  great  object  of  their  separate  existence 
as  the  people  of  the  Lord,  powerfully  strengthened  their  native 
attachments,  and  added  to  the  loftiness  of  their  character.  The 
prosperity  and  splendor  of  Messiah's  reign  was  dwelt  upon  with 
increasing  fulness  from  age  to  age,  in  the  predictions  of  every 
succeeding  prophet,  till  it  became  the  theme  of  universal  exul- 
tation— ^the  hope  to  which  the  imagination  of  every  Jewish  in- 
dividual delighted  to  advert.  They  turned  to  those  vivid  pro- 
phecies for  consolation  amidst  all  misfortunes,  and  for  triumph 
and  gladness  in  their  festivals.  Almost  every  passage  in  their 
history,  every  ruler  of  their  country,  and  every  ceremony  in 
their  worship,  were  connected  with  the  mysterious  promise, 
and  pointed  forward  to  the  glorious  event. 

The  commencement  of  their  national  existence  was  not  lost 
in  obscurity,  nor  dated  from  circumstances  in  themselves  mean 
or  trifling.  It  was  founded  on  an  event  no  less  august  and 
solemn,  than  a  covenant  of  mercy  between  the  Most  High  God 
and  his  servant  Abraham ; — a  covenant  renewed  with  Isaac  and 
Jacob,  and  from  age  to  age  with  the  most  eminent  aiid  holy  among 
the  successors  of  the  patriarchs.  Always  looking,  with  an  ex- 
pression which  could  not  be  mistaken,  to  the  future  advent  of  the 
Saviour,  it  designated  them  and  their  posterity  as  the  chosen 
people,  through  whom  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  were  to  be 
blessed.  They  could  trace  back  their  existence,  through  all 
its  diversified  changes,  to  one  great  patriarchal  ancestor ; — a 
being,  honored  to  the  end  of  life  by  supernatural  revelations 
from  Heaven,  and  regarded  through  the  whole  Eastern  world 


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1830.]  iKmihU  Hebrew  Poetry.  343 

as  the  most  pious,  venerable,  and  majestic  character  m  all  anti* 
quity.  India  and  Asia,  the  ancient  disciple  of  Zoroaster,  and 
the  modem  worshipper  of  the  Arabian  prophet,  unite  in  doing 
homage  to  the  memory  of  the  Father  of  the  Faithful. 

Their  early  histoiy  was  not  left  to  be  disfigured  by  the  pro- 
lific invention  of  fictitious  chroniclers,  nor  involved  like  that  of 
other  nations,  in  the  perplexity  of  doubtful  and  contradictory 
relations.  It  was  inscribed  with  the  pen  of  inspiration,  and  at  the 
same  time  glowed  with  the  genius  of  their  divinely  commissioned 
lawgiver.  Where  can  another  history  be  found  like  that  con- 
tained in  the  Pentateuch  of  Moses— so  sweetly  unaffected, 
yet  so  full  of  dignity  ]  so  concise,  and  yet  so  comprehensive ; 
so  rich  in  poetry,  yet  so  chaste  and  simple  in  its  style; 
so  affecting  in  its  pathetic  recitals,  and  so  vivid  and  powerful 
in  its  solemn  and  terrific  scenes ;  and  presenting  throughout, 
a  picture  so  graphic  of  the  life  and  manners  of  the  ancient 
Oriental  world  ?  The  Pentateuch  closes  with  the  book  of 
Deuteronomy,  the  last  testimony  of  the  Jewish  legislator  to 
his  countrymen,  containing  a  brief  but  vivid  recapitulation 
of  their  past  history,  and  a  second  concise  declaration  of 
the  law.  The  nation  had  now  gained  a  lasting  experience  of 
God's  dealings  with  his  people,  and  the  generation  had  passed 
away  on  whose  souls  an^  bodies  the  blight  of  effeminacy  and 
slavery  had  descended  during  their  residence  in  Egypt.  Aaron 
had  been  gathered  to  his  fathers,  Moses  was  about  to  die,  and 
die  tribes  were  just  upon  the  eve  of  a  happy  entrance  into  the 
long  promised  land  of  Canaan.  Under  these  circumstances, 
the  words  of  Moses  must  have  carried  a  thrilling  impression 
into  the  hearts  of  the  Israelites.     How  powerfully  does  he  ap- 

Eeal  to  their  experience  of  the  judgments  and  mercies  of  Je- 
ovah — ^with  what  mingled  encouragements  and  threatenings, 
what  fearful  curses  on  the  disobedient,  what  tender  admoni- 
tions, what  eloquent  entreaties !  Nor  is  the  voice  of  prophecy 
silent;  it  speaks  plainly  of  the  coming  Messiah;  it  predicts 
their  own  defection  and  consequent  wretchedness ;  it  almost 
relates  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem.  The  eight  closing  chap- 
ters of  the  book  of  Deuteronomy  are  perhaps  the  most  sublime 
portion  of  the  Scriptures.  They  contain  the  tremendous  curses 
denounced  against  transgressors,  and  the  unequalled  blessings 
pronounced  upon  the  obedient;  the  glowing  historical  song, 
which  Moses,  at  the  command  of  God,  wrote  for  the  people  of 
Israel,  to  be  forever  in  their  memories,  a  witness  against  them 


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S44  LowtVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct. 

vrhesi  they  should  turn  from  the  Lord  their  God ;  the  animated 
and  prophetic  blessing  upon  the  twelve  tribes,  and  the  short  but 
striking  history  of  the  death  of  Moses,  when  he  had  viewed 
from  die  top  of  Pisgah,  with  an  eye  which  old  age  had  not 
dimmed,  the  land  ^flowing  with  milk  and  AoTiey,'  stretched 
out  before  him  in  all  its  compass  and  luxuriance. 

Through  all  this  short,  but  perfect  and  comprehensive  his- 
tor}^ — ^the  storehouse  of  poetic  imagery  to  the  prophets  and 
psalmists— 'Where  is  the  page  that  is  not  full  of  materials  to  ar- 
rest the  eye,  and  excite  the  imagination  of  the  poet  ?  What 
books  could  be  more  crowded  with  energetic  recollections, 
sublime  and  picturesque  events,  instructive  and  terrible  warn- 
ings ?  From  the  first  interposition  of  Jehovah,  to  the  moment 
when  His  pesence  is  revealed  to  Moses  upon  Nebo,  His  glo- 
rious agency  is  every  where  visible.  It  is  He  who  accompanies 
the  patriarchs  in  all  their  journeyings,  and  makes  trial  of  their 
faith ;  it  is  He  who  gives  wisdom  to  Joseph,  and  makes  the 
children  of  Israel  to  increase  in  Egypt ;  it  is  He  who  brings 
them  out  with  His  mighty  hand  and  His  outstretched  arm  ;  who 
reveals  His  glories  at  the  Red  Sea,  on  Mount  Sinai,  and  through 
the  wilderness ;  who  dwells  between  the  cherubim,  and  leads 
His  people  like  a  j9ock.  Throughout,  it  is  the  purpose  of  the 
inspired  historian  to  stamp  upon  the  minds  of  his  countrymen 
the  most  impressive  sense  of  their  peculiar  dependence  upon 
God ;  he  closes  with  the  declaration,  so  literally  fulfilled,  that 
they  shall  be  invincible  and  glorious,  if  obedient  to  their  divine 
Sovereign,  but  cursed,  rejected,  and  miserable  whenever  they 
forsake  Him. 

The  character  of  Moses  himself,  as  it  is  depicted  in  the 
course  of  the  history,  was  an  invaluable  treasure  to  the  people. 
^  And  there  arose  not  a  prophet  since  in  Israel,  whom  the  Lord 
knew  face  to  face,  in  all  the  light  and  wonders  which  the  Lord 
sent  him  to  do  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  to  Pharaoh,  and  to  all  his 
servants,  and  to  all  bis  land,  and  in  all  that  mighty  land,  and  in 
all  the  great  terror,  which  Moses  showed  in  the  sight  of  all  Is- 
rael.' His  name  could  never  be  remembered  without  exciting 
in  the  bosom  of  the  Israelite,  the  highest  exultation  of  patriotic 
pride. 

If  the  history  contained  in  the  Pentateuch  was  full  of  mate- 
rials calculated  to  excite  the  popular  imagination,  to  strengthen 
the  national  patriotism,  and  to  convince  tibe  Hebrews  of  God's 
retributive  providence,  the  history  of  successive  periods  in  their 


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1830.]  Lawth's  Hebrew  Poetry.  S46 

existence  was  scarcely  less  so.  We  must  pass  by  the  period 
from  Joshua  to  Samuel,  and  can  only  glanoe  at  the  reigns  of 
David  and  Solomon. 

David's  life  was  full  of  poetry ;  his  character  and  reign  were 
a  proud  inheritance  to  the  Jewish  people — the  most  delightfiil 
era  in  their  history.  He  was  eminendy  the  anointed  of  the 
God  of  Jacob ;  under  him  they  always  recognized  th^ir  Theo* 
cratical  Constitution,  and  were  again  taught,  as  by  the  expe^ 
rience  of  their  whole  national  existence,  to  seek  prosperity 
solely  in  obedience  to  Jehovah,  and  to  attribute  to  Him  the 
praise  of  their  victorious  successes^  David  was  favored  with 
a  magnificent  renewal  of  the  Covenant  of  God,  with  the  addi- 
tional promise,  whose  extensive  and  spiritual  import  as  refers 
ring  to  the  Messiah  he  evidently  understood,  that  the  royal 
succession  should  be  in  his  house,  and  that  his  kingdom  should 
be  established  forever.  He  fixed  the  royal  residence  at  Jeru- 
salem, and  the  capital  of  the  nation  was  named  the  City  of 
David,  whither  also  he  transferred,  with  public  and  splendid 
rejoicings,  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant.  Jerusalem  became  thQ 
capital  of  the  Invisible  Kmg ;  his  temple  was  built  upon  Mount 
Moriah  ;  and  thenceforward  the  City  of  David  was  called,  by 
its  most  glorious  title,  the  City  of  God. 

In  no  respect  did  David  confer  a  greater  benefit  upon  his 
countrymen,  or  leave  the  stamp  of  his  own  genius  more  indeli^ 
bly  upon  the  nation,  than  in  the  measures,  which  he  adopted 
to  improve  the  public  worship,  and  give  it  a  suitable  character 
of  magnificence  and  joyfulness.  He  formed  for  it  a  regular 
system  of  music  and  poetry ;  he  appointed  Leyites  to  praise 
the  Lord  with  songs  and  various  instrument?  of  music ;  he 
composed  the  most  instructive  and  animating  Psalms,  to  be 
chanted  not  only  at  all  the  sacrifices,  but  by  the  whole  people, 
when  they  made  their  glad  pilgrimages  to  Jerqsalem  at  the 
seasons  of  the  feasts.  Himself  the  sweet  Psalmist  of  Israel, 
he  communicated  to  the  national  imaginatiop,  in  no  slight  de* 
gree,  the  impulse  of  his  own  poetic  genius. 

The  reign  of  Solomon  was  the  most  splendid  in  all  the  He- 
brew annals ;  he  is  celebrated  through  the  world  as  the  great- 
est of  Eastern  monarchs,  David  left  him  in  possession  of  a 
peaceful  kingdom,  and  on  him,  in  answer  to  his  pious  request, 
the  spirit  of  wisdom  was  poured  out  apparently  without  measr 
ure.  The  regularity  with  which  all  the  national  affair?  wer^ 
administered,  tfie  magnificence  of  his  court,  the  abundance  c^ 


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M6  LcwthU  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct. 

bis  riches,  so  &at  he  '  made  silver  in  Jerusalem  as  stones,'  and 
the  gorgeousness  of  the  Temple,  which  Jehovah  permitted 
him  to  build,  surpass  all  description.  He  inherited  likewise 
the  poetical  genius  of  his  father,  and  the  sacred  Book  tells  us 
that  his  songs  were  one  thousand  and  five.  Happy  would  it 
have  been  for  Israel,  had  his  piety  to  Jehovah  equalled  his 
wisdom  and  genius.  For  his  idolatiy  the  crown  of  glory 
was  taken  from  the  nation.  Scarcely  had  he  died,  when  the 
ten  tribes  revolted,  and  m  about  four  hundred  years  Jerusa- 
lem was  destroyed.  Thes^  centuries  were  the  period  during 
whi6h  most  of  die  prophets,  from  Elijah  downwards,  appeared 
and  uttered  their  predictions.  Jeremiah  prophesied  die  cap- 
tivity of  Judah,  and  after  the  mournful  event,  uttered  his 
afifecting  Lamentations.  How  doth  the  city  sit  solitary,  she 
that  wasfuU  of  people!  His  warning  voice  had  long  before 
declared.  The  sin  of  Judah  is  written  wkh  a  pen  of  iron — with 
the  point  of  a  diamond.  He  was  reserved  to  be  a  historical 
witness  of  the  events,  which  Inspiration  had  predicted  from  his 
own  lips. 

The  Hebrew  muse  has  been  called  the  denizen  of  nature ; 
with  equal  propriety  may  she  be  termed  the  denizen  of  his- 
tory. She  draws  much  of  her  sublimest  inspiration  from  the 
instructive  record  of  God's  dealings  with  his  people.  Even 
the  Psalms  are  full  of  the  finest  imagery  gathered  from  histori- 
cal events ;  but  the  prophetic  poetry  is  by  far  the  most  copious 
in  its  sublime  and  beautiful  allusions.  The  history  of  the 
Hebrews  in  its  spirit  is  all  poetry ;  their  poetry  is  almost  a  his- 
tory, both  of  the  past  and  the  future.  For  the  Prophets, 
what  could  be  more  appropriate,  in  the  exercise  of  their  func- 
tions as  the  messengers  of  God,  than  to  paint  their  warnings 
widi  an  unceasing  and  energetic  appeal  to  the  well  known  ex- 
perience of  the  narion  ?  Such  an  appeal  was  not  addressed 
to  a  people  ignorant  of  dieir  own  history.  It  was  the  pride  of 
a  Hebrew,  as  well  as  his  duty,  to  have  the  law  and  the  testi- 
mony inscribed  upon  his  heart.  A  Jew,  well  instructed,  could 
almost  repeat  the  contents  of  the  sacred  Books  from  memory. 
On  their  study  the  utmost  expenditure  of  wealth  and  labor 
was  lavished.  They  were  copied  with  the  richest  penman- 
ship ;  they  were  incased  in  jewels ;  they  were  clasped  vrith 
diamonds ;  diey  were  deposited  in  golden  arks.  The  whole 
of  the  one  hundred  and  nineteenth  Psalm  is  composed  in 
praise  of  their  wisdom,  and  to  inculcate  their  perusal.     How 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  L<nfftVi  Hebrew  Poetry.  84T 

striking  was  the  last  charge  of  Moses  to  the  people :  '  And 
thou  shalt  teach  them  diligently  unto  thy  children,  and  shalt 
talk  of  them  when  thou  siuest  in  thine  house,  and  when  thou 
walkest  by  the  way,  and  when  thou  liest  down,  and  when  thou 
risest  up— thou  shalt  say  unto  thy  son,  we  were  Pharaoh's 
bondmen  in  Egypt ;  and  the  Lord  brought  us  out  of  £gypt 
with  a  mighty  hand ! ' 

Powerful  indeed  must  have  been  the  influence  of  such 
familiarity  with  those  sublime  compositions !  The  unceasing 
frequency  with  which  their  remarkable  passages  are  referred  to 
by  die  sacred  poets,  shows  with  what  prevailing  power  they 
dwelt  in  the  popular  imagination.  How  could  it  be  oth^*^ 
wise  ?  Almost  every  rite  in  the  ceremonial  of  the  Hebrews 
was  founded  upon  or  in  some  way  connected  with  the  remem- 
brance of  supernatural  interposition.  Almost  every  spot  in  the 
land  of  the  Israelites  was  associated  with  the  history  of  those  glo- 
rious events.  Three  times  a  year  the  whole  Jewish  multitude 
went  up  to  the  tabernacle  or  to  Jerusalem  at  the  feasts.  Did  they 
pass  through  the  valley  of  Hebron  ?  There  lay  the  bones  of 
the  patriarchs  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob.  Did  they  stand  on 
the  plains  of  Mamre  ?  There  Abraham  erected  an  altar  to 
Jehovah,  and  entertained  the  angels.  Did  they  visit  the  bor-*- 
ders  of  the  Dead  Sea  ?  Its  sluggish  waves  rolled  over  the 
cities  of  the  plain,  and  they  traced  the  ruins  of  the  fire-storm 
from  heaven.  If  they  looked  towards  Nebo,  it  was  the  sacred 
and  mysterious  burial-place  of  Moses.  1£  they  passed  near 
Gilgal,  there  the  sun  and  moon  stood  still  at  the  conmiand  of 
Joshua.  If  they  rode  on  the  mountains  of  Gilboa,  there  the  glory 
of  Israel  was  slain  upon  their  high  places.  Such  thrilling  recol- 
lections must  have  met  them  at  every  step,  besides  being  often 
mingled  in  the  memory  with  some  vivid  burst  of  poetry.  Ah 
event,  like  that  of  the  passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  commemorated 
in  a  song  such  as  that  of  Moses,  was  a  treasure  in  the  annals 
of  the  nation,  whose  worth  in  the  formation  of  the  national 
spirit  we  cannot  adequately  appreciate.  Nor  can  we  conceive 
the  depth  of  emotion,  which  must  have  dilated  the  frame  of  a 
devout  Jewish  patriot,  every  time  he  remembered  that  sublime 
compositbn. 

The  general  character  of  their  sacred  and  civil  constitutk)n, 
as  well  as  innumerable  particular  observances,  domestic,  politi- 
cal and  religious,  were  full  of  influences,  which  could  not  be 
otherwise  than  powerful  in  strengthening  the  popular  imagina^ 


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848  LovBiVs  Hebrew  Poetrif.  [Oct 

tidil,  and  filUng  it  with  elevated  aod  beautiful  couceptionB. 
The  Oriental  manners  in  domestic  life,  joined  to  the  Mosaic 
institutions  ia  regard  to  private  society,  shed  a  spirit  of  refine- 
ment over  the  social  intercourse  of  the  Hebrews,  and  exhibit 
it  to  us  ccxanecied  with  very  many  picturesque  and  romantic 
associations*  Their  hospitality  was  generous  and  open-*hearted ; 
their  modes  of  salutation  appear  even  extravagant  in  the  pro- 
fession of  kindness  and  good-will.  Strangers  were  to  be 
treated  with  peculiar  attention;  'the  stranger  that  dwelleth 
among  you  shall  be  unto  you  as  one  born  amongst  you,  and 
thou  shalt  love  him  as  thyself; /or  ye  were  strangers  in  the 
land  of  EgyptJ*  The  aged  they  were  commanded  to  regard 
almost  with  a  religious  veneration ;  the  crown  of  gray  hairs 
was  sacred :  '  thou  shalt  rise  up  brfore  the  hoary  head,  and 
honor  the  face  of  the  old  man.^  '  Honor  thy  father  and  thy 
mother,'  was  one  of  the  commandments  of  the  DecsJogue. 
The  observance  of  the  duties  of  filial  attachment  and  respect 
were  connected  with  peculiar  blessings,  and  their  violation  with 
imprecations  and  punishments  of  an  awful  severity. 

The  celebration  of  nuptials  was  a  season  of  joyous  festivity, 
attended  by  many  interesting  aod  imposing  ceremonies.  The 
dress  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom  was  rich  and  splendid ;  and 
so,  indeed,  among  the  Hebrews,  were  all  garments  worn  on 
festival  occasions.  The  birth  of  children  was  with  them  an 
event  thrice  blessed — ^to  be  hailed  with  exulting  ceremonies. 
The  birth-day  of  a  son  was  honored  as  a  festival,  and  observed 
each  year  with  lively  demonstrations  of  gladness. 

A  spkit  of  kindness  and  benevolence  was  inculcated  even 
towards  animals ;  and  towards  the  poor  and  friendless  in  the 
land  how  beautiful  was  the  humanity  enjoined  upon  the  Israel- 
ites, especially  at  the  season  of  harvest !  '  When  ye  reap  the 
harvest  of  your  land,  thou  shalt  not  wholly  reap  the  comers  of 
thy  field,  neither  shalt  thou  gather  the  gleanings  of  thy  har- 
vest ;  and  thou  shalt  not  glean  thy  vineyard,  neidier  shalt  thou 
gather  every  grape  of  thy  vineyard ;  thou  shalt  leave  them  for 
the  poor  and  the  stranger.^ 

The  Jewish  people  were  unequalled  for  the  festive  delight- 
fulness  and  picturesque  observances  of  their  sacred  seasons*. 
The  Sabbath  was  an  institution  worthy  of  the  wisdom  and  be- 
nevolence of  their  Invisible  Sovereign.  He  blessed  it  emphati- 
cally, as  a  day  of  holy  cheerfulness  and  rest  for  the  Hebrews, 
their  servants  and  their  cattle.     In  it  they  were  to  contemplate 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  LwftlCM  Hebrew  Poetry.  340 

with  glad  and  grateful  emotions  the  Creator  and  Crovemor  of 
the  universe;  they  celebrated  it  with  religious  songs  and  in- 
strumental music  ;  they  gathered  around  their  prophets  to  re- 
ceive instruction ;  they  taught  their  children  the  wonderful 
providences  of  God ;  and  if  they  were  not  too  far  distant, 
visited  the  tabernacle  or  the  temple. 

The  year  of  Jubilee  was  a  national  custom,  combining,  in 
an  eminent  degree,  all  that  is  picturesque,  endearing,  free,  no- 
ble and  patriotic.  It  was  a  long  and  hallowed  Sabbath  of  rest 
and  universal  liberty ;  they  returned  every  man  to  his  posses- 
sion, and  every  man  to  his  family  ;  all  debts  were  cancelled  } 
the  bondman,  free  as  the  air,  came  back  to  his  inheritance ; 
the  aged  exile  visited  the  long-lost  home  of  his  fathers. 

The  three  great  sacred  festivals,  at  the  return  of  each  of 
which  all  the  tribes  appeared  at  the  tabernacle,  or,  after  the 
building  of  the  temple,  went  up  to  Jerusalem,  bringing  pres- 
ents, offering  sacrifices  and  exulting  together  with  songs,  and 
music  and  dances,  in  God,  '  whose  mercy  endureth  forever,' 
were  eminendy  calculated  to  communicate  an  ardent  and  joy- 
ous impulse  to  the  popular  imagination.  Nor  could  any  thing 
have  been  devised  more  admirably  adapted  to  give  life  and 
intensity  to  the  national  patriotism,  than  these  proud  meetings 
of  all  the  millions  of  Israel  around  the  gorgeous  temple  in  the 
City  of  their  God.  How  joyful  was  the  pilgrimage  of  the 
people,  in  bands  of  families  and  kindred,  beneath  the  delicious 
sky  and  amidst  the  lovely  scenery  of  Palestine,  as  they  wound 
among  the  hill-sides,  or  stopped  to  refresh  themselves  in  the 
valleys,  lifting  up  their  voices  from  time  to  time,  accompanied 
with  instrumental  music,  in  those  beautiful  songs  of  degrees, 
which  David  composed  for  the  purpose ; 

*  I  was  glad  when  they  said  unto  me, 

Let  us  enter  thy  house,  O  Lord  ! 

Our  feet  shall  stand  within  thy  gates,  O  Jerusalem !  * 

First  in  the  year  came  the  feast  of  the  Passover,  solemn 
and  striking  in  its  ceremonies ;  then  the  feast  of  the  Hat  vest, 
full  of  rural  plenty  and  festivity ;  last  and  most  splendid  the 
feast  of  die  Tabernacles,  instituted  in  memory  of  the  journey 
through  the  wilderness.  During  its  continuance  of  eight  days, 
the  Hebrews  dwelt  in  shady  tents  erected  with  green  boughs 
abng  the  streets  of  the  Holy  City,  and  on  the  roofs  of  the 
houses,  in  commemoration  and  imitation  of   their   dwellings 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  46 


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aSO  LowtVi  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct. 

when  they  wandered  from  Egypt*  As  it  was  likewise  a  festi- 
val of  gratitude  after  the  vintage  and  the  gathering  in  of  the 
fruits,  they  carried  about  the  productions  of  the  choicest  trees, 
with  branches  of  palm,  willow,  pomegranate  and  other  verdur- 
ous and  thick-foliaged  boughs.  The  whole  season  passed 
away  with  songs  and  music  in  unmingled  delightfiilness.  Jeru- 
salem, during  its  continuance,  wore  the  appearance  of  oae 
vast,  diickly*clustered,  luxuriant  bower,  m  the  evening  widely 
and  splendidly  illuminated. 

In  the  character  of  the  Jewish  priesthood  there  was  every 
thing  combined,  which  could  render  it  venerable  and  majestic ; 
their  office  was  connected  in  the  popular  mind  with  all  possi- 
ble associations  of  grandeur,  lliey  and  their  posterity  were 
solemnly  divided  from  the  rest  of  Israel  for  the  service  of  the 
living  God.  Four  thousand  Levites,  clad  in  robes  of  white 
linen,  ministered  as  musicians  and  singers,  but  the  classes  of 
the  priests  were  limited  to  the  posterity  of  the  sons  of  Aaron. 
The  ceremonies  of  their  consecration,  continued  during  eight 
days,  were  solemn  and  impressive  in  the  highest  degree.  Their 
vesture  was  splendid— ^speciaUy  that  of  the  high-priest :  over 
hb  forehead  be  wore  a  plate  of  gold,  fastened  to  the  mitre  by 
a  blue  fillet,  and  inscribed  with  the  august  device,  Holy  to  tie 
Lord. 

The  Jewish  worship  combined,  perhaps,  in  the  greatest  pos- 
sible degree,  magnificence  with  minuteness  and  simplicity  in  its 
rites.  During  the  wanderings  in  the  wilderness,  and  indeed 
for  more  than  four  hundred  years,  till  the  time  of  David  and 
Solomon,  the  religious  ceremonial  was  not  invested  with  all 
that  external  grandeur,  which  it  afterwards  possessed ;  yet  the 
tabernacle  of  the  congregation  was  a  gorgeous  pavilion,  and  its 
furniture  of  a  character  well  adapted  to  strike  the  imagination 
'  with  mterest.  With  what  evident  and  patriotic  pride  does  even 
the  Aposde,  under  a  more  glorious  and  perfect  dispensation, 
look  back  to  the  days  of  the  former  priesthood,  and  enumerate 
the  objects  in  the  tabernacle, '  which  is  called  the  Holiest  of 
all;  which  had  the  golden  censer,  and  the  ark  of  the  covenant 
overlaid  round  about  with  gold,  wherein  was  the  goldoEi  pot 
that  bad  manna,  and  Aaron's  rod  that  budded,  and  the  tables 
of  the  covenant ;  and  over  it  the  cherubim  of  glory,  sfaadow- 
mg  the  mercy-seat.'  Wherever  the  tabernacle  widi  the  Ark 
of  the  Covenant  abode,  the  whole  town  or  village  was  conse- 
crated by  its  presence. 


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1830.]  towth's  HdfretjD  Poeiry.  351 

After  the  building  of  Solomon's  temple,  the  rites  of  worship 
were  performed  with  a  magnificent  and  solemn  grandeur,  of 
the  effect  of  which,  in  the  midst  of  an  edifice  so  glorious,  our 
imaginations,  though  aided  by  the  utmost  minuteness  of  de- 
scription, can  very  inadequately  conceive.  The  temple  was 
^  garnished  with  precious  stones  for  beauty,'  and  almost  every 
part  of  it  was  overlaid  with  gold.  The  king  dedicated  it  with 
ofiermgs  and  ceremonies  worthy  of  its  own  grandeur,  and  the 
majestic  solemnity  of  the  occasion.  Nothing  could  exceed 
the  sublimity  of  his  consecrating  prayer,  or  of  the  thanksgiving 
songs  of  David,  accompanied  with  instrumental  music,  and 
uplifted  on  the  voices  of  four  thousand  Levites.  Jehovah 
himself  manifested  his  awful  presence,  '  so  that  the  priests 
could  not  stand  to  minister  by  reason  of  the  cloud ;  for  the 
glory  of  Jehovah  had  filled  the  house  of  God.' 

The  following  is  an  animated  description  of  tlie  temple  in 
Jerusalem,  drawn,  indeed,  as  it  appeared  in  the  time  of  Herod 
the  Great,  but  yet,  perhaps,  presenting  no  inadequate  picture 
of  its  glory  as  it  first  rose  under  the  eye  of  its  royal  founder. 
It  is  firom  the  pen  of  Croly.  '  I  see  the  court  of  the  Gentiles 
circling  the  whole  5  a  fortress  of  the  whitest  marble,  with  its 
wall  rising  six  hundred  feet  from  the  valley ;  its  kingly  en- 
trance, worthy  of  the  fame  of  Solomon ;  its  innumerable  and 
stately  dweUings  for  the  priests  and  officers  of  the  temple,  and 
above  them,  glittering  like  a  succession  of  diadems,  those  ala- 
baster porticoes  and  colonnades,  in  which  the  chieiis  and  sages 
of  Jerusalem  sat  teaching  the  people,  or  walked,  breathmg  the 
pure  air  and  gazing  on  the  grandeur  of  a  landscape,  which 
swept  the  whole  amphitheatre  of  the  mountains.  I  see,  rising 
above  this  stupendous  boundary,  the  court  of  the  Jewish 
women,  separated  by  its  porphyry  pillars  and  richly  sculptured 
wall ;  above  this,  the  separated  court  of  the  men ;  still  higher, 
the  court  of  the  furiests ;  and  highest,  the  crowning  splendor 
of  all,  the  central  temple,  the  place  of  the  sanctuary  and  of 
the  Holy  of  Holies,  covered  with  plates  of  gold,  its  roof 
planted  with  lofty  spear-heads  of  gold,  the  most  precious  mar- 
bles and  metals  every  where  fiashing  back  the  day,  till  Mount 
Moriah  stood  forth  to  the  eye  of  the  stranger  approaching 
Jerusalem,  what  it  had  been  so  often  described  by  its  bards 
and  people,  a  ^  mountain  of  snow,  studded  with  jewels.' 

The  loneliness  of  the  Holy  of  Holies,  in  the  absence  of  a 
visible  image,  surrounded  as  the  Hebrews  were  on  all  «de$, 


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S62  LoiffthU  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct. 

by  nations  of  idolaters,  whose  temples  were  crowded  with  the 
most  grotesque  forms  of  wood  and  stone,  that  a  degraded 
heathen  ingenuity  could  invent,  must  have  powerfully  afiected 
their  imaginations.  With  what  awe  and  wonder  it  filled  the 
mind  even  of  Pompey,  when  after  passing  all  the  external 
splendors  in  the  approach  to  the  recesses  of  the  Jewish  temple, 
he  lifted  the  separating  veil,  in  the  full  expectation  of  finding  a 
statue  which  would  answer  in  its  majesty  to  the  gorgeous  deco- 
rations that  had  already  excited  his  curiosity  to  the  utmost,  but 
found  himself  a  daring  intruder,  in  the  holy  solitariness  and 
silence ! 

Our  limits  will  not  suffer  us  to  speak  more  minutely  of  their 
national  and  religious  customs,  or  of  the  circumstances  of  their 
history.  They  were  all  full  of  poetical  effect.  The  smallest 
of  their  rites  were  important,  and  often  they  were  grand  and 
magnificent  in  the  extreme.  Their  existence  itself  was  for 
ages  a  continued  miracle ;  and  their  history  abounded  in  such 
proud  and  endearing  recollections,  and  teemed  with  events  of 
such  supernatural  glory,  and  with  characters  of  such  holy  faith 
and  intellectual  grandeur,  that  it  would  have  constituted  the 
strangest  of  all  anomalies,  had  not  the  national  imagination 
been  peculiarly  grand  and  elevated. 

Their  climate  and  scenery  exerted  a  greater  influence  in 
moulding  their  character  and  giving  a  spirit  to  their  poetry, 
than  the  same  circumstances  have  done  with  almost  any  other 
people.  The  power  of  these  causes  is  always  greater  perhaps, 
than  we  are  disposed  to  believe.  Their  influence  is  silent,  but 
it  is  constant  and  gradual,  even  from  infancy  to  the  maturity 
and  decline  of  life.  Their  operation  in  aiding  to  unfold  the 
facukies,  and  in  giving  a  tinge  to  the  poetical  susceptibilities  of 
the  soul  is  indeed  subtle,  delicate,  and  refined.  If  it  could  be 
watched  in  its  progress  and  measured  in  its  power,  as  the  more 
material  influences  can  be,  its  extent,  all-pervading  though  in- 
visible, would  astonish  us.  Could  the  idea  of  Foster  be  real- 
ised, and  a  mind  which  has  arrived  at  maturity  go  back,  step 
by  step,  through  its  past  existence,  and  analyse  and  classify  the 
innumerable  influences  which  have  contributed  their  share  in 
the  formation  of  the  man,  we  apprehend  that  not  the  least  pow- 
erful would  be  found  to  have  proceeded  from  the  appearances 
of  external  nature.  And  why  should  it  not  be  so  ?  Can  any 
thing  except  the  moral  providence  and  the  word  of  God  be 
better  fitted  to  refine  and  meliorate  the  character  of  an  intelli- 


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1830.]  LowiVa  Hebrew  Poetry.  358 

gent  being,  than  the  ceaseless  operation  of  such  sublimity  and 
beauty  as  he  sees  exhibited  in  the  forms  and  hues  of  the  na- 
tural universe  ?  The  contemplation  of  nature  is  a  universal 
school  of  silent  moral  discipline.  When  devotional  sentiments 
are  united  with  a  sensibility  to  natural  beauty,  and  the  mind 
beholds  the  Deity  m  His  works,  it  is  elevated  by  impressions 
whose  power  can  scarcely  be  calculated,  because  they  are  un- 
noticed, and  constantly  recurring. 

To  the  climate  and  scenery  of  Palestine  we  have  to  look 
from  almost  every  page  of  the  sacred  poets  for  the  explanation 
of  particular  allusions,  and  in  order  to  the  full  enjoyment  of 
their  most  beautiful  imagery.  It  affi)rded  in  its  variety  almost 
all  the  elements  of  peculiar  sublimity  and  beauty  in  the  mate- 
rial world.  It  a£brded  them  likewise  in  opposition  and  con- 
trast. The  extent  of  the  country  was  indeed  narrow,  yet  be- 
ing intersected  with  numerous  ranges  of  hills  that  were  capable 
of  cultivation  even  to  the  summit,  its  surface  was  in  reality  ex- 
tensive, and  the  variety  of  its  climate  multiplied.  '  At  the  foot 
of  the  hill  grew  the  products  of  the  torrid  zone ;  on  its  side 
those  of  the  temperate ;  on  its  summit  the  robust  vegetation  of 
the  north.  The  ascending  circles  of  the  orange  grove,  the 
vineyard,  and  the  forest,  covered  it  with  perpetual  beauty.' 
The  mountam  ridges  were  not  less  salubrious  and  opulent  in 
their  various  productions.  The  most  careless  reader  of  the 
Bible  must  have  seen  how  the  names  of  Lebanon  and  Carmel 
were  connected  in  the  imagination  of  a  Hebrew  with  all  ideas 
of  fertility  and  delightfulness.  The  very  appellation  of  the  lat- 
ter indicates  the  fruitfulness  of  its  mountain-ranges,  and  of  the 
valleys  which  they  form;  for  Carmel  literally  signifies  the 
garden  of  Qod.  The  summits  of  these  ranges  were  crowned 
with  forests  of  oak  and  fir ;  the  valleys  were  covered  with  lau- 
rels and  olives ;  and  there  was  no  want  of  fountains  and  rivu- 
lets, most  grateful  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  East. 

From  the  most  deliciously  beautiful  and  secluded  vale,  an 
Israelite  might  pass  in  a  few  hours  to  the  grandeur  of  the  cedar 
forest  on  Lebanon,  or  to  the  rocks  and  snows  on  the  summit  of 
Antilibanus.  From  the  sweet  lake  of  Tiberias  he  might  find 
himself  at  no  very  distant  interval  walking  on  the  bituminous 
and  gloomy  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea ;  and  from  a  garden  like 
the  bower  of  the  first  pair  in  Eden,  he  might  soon  be  trans- 
TOrted  to  the  savage  sterility  of  the  desert  of  Engeddi. 
There  was  an  astonishing  contrast  and  variety  at  different  in- 


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SM  L(nrth'8  Hsbrw  Poeiry.  [Oct. 

tenrals  of  season  and  aituaUcm  in  the  river  Jordan,  whose  or^ia 
IS  found  in  the  perpetual  snows  of  Antilibanus.  After  measure 
ing  a  subterranean  journey  of  a  few  miles  from  the  foot  of  the 
mountain,  it  bursts  from  the  earth  with  noise,  and  then,  after  a 
few  miles  of  verdure  and  fertility,  passes  into  the  lake  MercMn. 
Here  the  beholder  might  at  one  season  in  the  year,  cast  his  eye 
over  a  broad  and  beautiful  expanse  of  water,  and  at  anotlier 
over  an  almost  interminable  marsh,  covered  with  shrubs  and 
rushes,  the  abode  only  of  wild  beasts.  Again  when  the  snows 
melted  on  the  mountains,  the  reedy  marsh  became  a  sheet  of 
pure  crystal,  bordered  with  luxuriant  verdure  and  foliage. 
Pursuine  the  course  of  this  celebrated  river  a  few  miles  further, 
he  found  himself  at  the  lake  Gennesareth,  or  Sea  of  Galilee,  or 
Tiberias ;  forever  dear  in  the  imagination  of  the  Christian,  from 
the  memorable  scenes  acted  on  its  shores,  and  from  the  ap- 
pearance of  our  Saviour  to  his  alarmed  disciples  on  its  bosona 
in  the  midnight  storm.  It  was  pure  and  sweet,  secluded  in  its 
natural  situation,  and  surrounded  by  elevated  and  fruitful  de- 
clivities. Passbg  from  this  delightful  lake,  the  river  flowed 
onwards,  increasing  in  beauty  and  size,  through  a  tract  of  coim- 
try,  to  which  its  waters  and  tributary  streams  imparted  such  a 
freshness  and  fertility,  that  it  was  termed  by  way  of  eminence, 
the  region  of  Jordan.  And  then,  after  sJl  this  variety,  said 
from  all  these  scenes  of  purity,  fragrance  and  life,  it  was 
swallowed  up  in  that  image  of  all  stagnant  and  frightful  desdba* 
tion,  the  Dead  Sea. 

There  were  similar  transitions,  at  some  seasons,  in  an  in- 
credibly short  space  of  time,  over  the  wh(de  fece  of  nature. 
'  In  spring  and  summer,  if  the  east  wind  ccxitinues  to  blow  for 
a  few  days,  the  fields  are  in  general  so  parched,  that  scarcely 
a  blade  of  any  thing  green  remains ;  many  riv^s  and  streams 
are  dried  up,  the  others  are  rendered  briny,  and  all  nature 
seems  at  the  pomt  of  dissolution.  After  a  plentiful  shower, 
however,  the  fields  revive  beyond  all  expectation,  the  rivers 
resume  their  course,  and  the  springs  pour  forth  mote  delicious 
water.  Dr.  Russell  has  described  th^  regeneradon  of  nature 
in  most  lively  cokrs  in  his  Natural  History  of  AlepfK),  a  bHOok 
which  every  man  ought  to  read,  who  wishes,  not  only  Iheralty 
to  understand  the  Oriental  writers,  but  to  feel  tbem.'^ 


*  Michelis  upon  Lowth.  The  learned  annotator,  was,  however,  mis-. 
taken  in  his  reference  to  the  work  here  mentione«L 


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1830.]  Lowth's  Hehrew  Poetry.  855 

Earthquake^,  perhaps  the  most  terrible  of  all  aatura]  phe^ 
nomena,  were  common,  and  likewise  the  severest  thunder  and 
Ughtning.  There  were  also  other  calamitous  as  well  as  won- 
derful appearances  and  productions  of  nature,  with  which  Pal- 
estine was  from  time  to  time  visited.  Such  was  the  hot  and 
deadly  wind  called  by  the  Arabs  Simoon,  and  by  the  Turks 
Samyel,  which  might  be  seen  approaching  from  the  distance, 
like  a  cloud,  tinged  with  red  as  a  rainbow,  and  attended  with 
a  rushmg  noise.  The  devastation  of  the  locusts  was  another 
natural  calami^,  described  with  such  fearful,  but  exact  colors, 
in  the  second  chapter  of  Joel. 

Such  a  climate  and  such  scenery  and  phenomena  could  not 
and  did  not  fail  to  give  a  rich  poetical  cast  to  the  whole  popu- 
lar mind. 

The  manner  of  life  among  the  Hebrews  was  such  too  as 
brought  them  most  completely  under  the  influence  of  all  the 
various  appearances  of  nature.  They  were,  till  the  conquest 
of  Canaan,  entirely  a  nation  of  shepherds ;  and  though  they 
aftenvards  in  some  measure  laid  aside  their  Nomadic  habits, 
yet  they  still  continued  husbandmen ;  and  the  mildness  of  their 
climate,  as  well  as  the  nature  of  their  employments,  kept  them 
constantly  in  the  open  air,  and  alive  to  all  the  influences  of 
natural  scenery  and  phenomena,  to  a  degree,  which  with  us 
exists  only  in  imagination.  By  the  laws  of  Moses,  agriculture 
was  in  reality  made  the  basis  of  the  state.  It  viras  a  highly 
honorable  emplojonent ;  so  that  while  the  greater  part  of  the 
people  were,  in  their  ordinary  occupation,  husbandmen,  the 
richest  and  the  noblest  among  them  did  not  disdain  to  engage 
in  rural  labors.  To  every  citizen  was  divided  by  the  inspired 
legislator,  an  equal  portion  of  land,  which  he  and  his  sons  after 
hioi  m%ht  cultivate ;  nor  could  it  be  alienated  from  the  family, 
for  a  longer  period  dian  until  the  great  returning  jubilee.  How 
powerfully  must  this  mstituticxi  luive  tended  to  keep  alive  in 
every  bosom  the  feelings  of  patriotism  and  the  ties  of  family 
endearment,  as  well  as  to  preserve  a  primitive  and  haroy  smi- 
plicity  in  character  and  manners !  It  has  been  well  cidled  the 
strongest  and  most  benevolent  bond  that  ever  bound  man  to  bis 
cofuntry. 

Such  were  a  few^  for  after  all  we  have  mentioned  only  a 
few,  of  the  circumstances,  which  may  have  combined  to  give 
to  the  Hebrew  imagination  its  mingled  richness,  grandeur  and 
simplicity,  and  its  pecuhar  spirit  and  coloring  to  their  poetical 


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866  LowiVi  Hebrew  Poeiry.  [Oct. 

composition*  Yet  we  have  exhibited  a  rich  enumeration. 
What  nobler  materials  could  have  been  desired,  out  of  which 
to  mould  a  lofty-minded  and  religious  national  character,  or  to 
build  up  a  holy,  grand,  elevated,  and  ample  national  literature ! 
A  delicious  climate ; — the  cultivation  of  a  fertile  soil  and  the 
contemplation  of  the  most  diversified  scenery  as  their  daily 
employments; — a  history  full  of  all  thrilling,  patriotic  and 
devotional  recollections ; — a  glorious  theocracy  as  their  form  of 
government; — a  sanctified  and  magnificent  priesthood; — a 
ritual,  imposing  in  its  external  glory,  and  in  almost  every  par- 
ticular, teeming  with  high  associations,  and  pregnant  with  pro- 
phetic meaning ! 

It  is  delighUul,  in  reading  the  Sacred  Poets,  to  trace  the 
direct  influence  of  all  these  circumstances,  in  passages  of  ex- 
treme beauty,  occurring  to  the  eye  on  almost  every  page.  Our 
limits  will  not  suflfer  us  to  be  thus  particular.  Yet  we  cannot 
but  glance  at  the  general  character  of  that  class  of  their  poetry, 
which  is  descriptive  of  natural  beauty,  or  founded  on  their  ad- 
miration of  the  works  of  Jehovah.  They  drank  in  the  delicious 
influences  of  climate  and  scenery,  and  poured  forth  their  emo- 
tbns  as  inartificially  and  unconsciously  as  the  warblers  of 
the  grove.  In  the  absence  of  all  foreign  and  far-fetched  im- 
agery, they  dwelt  with  a  contented  fondness  on  the  scenes 
amidst  which  they  had  been  born  and  nurtured,  with  a  purity 
and  exultation  of  feeling,  which  powerfully  captivates  the  heart. 
They  never  sought  to  astonish  by  magnificence,  either  in  words 
or  images,  but  were  unstudied  in  their  simplicity,  and  satisfied 
with  expressing  the  trutli.  Yet  they  expressed  it  with  vivid 
intensity,  in  words  and  figures  that  are  flashing  with  life  and 
energy. 

When  they  looked  forth  upon  the  glories  of  nature,  the  idea 
of  God  as  the  Sovereign  of  their  own  State,  no  less  than  as  the 
Creator  and  benevolent  Ruler  of  the  universe,  and  the  only  ob- 
ject of  religious  veneration,  was  contmually  before  their  minds. 
There  was  hardly  a  spot,  which  was  not  consecrated  by  the 
grateful  recollection  of  some  supernatural  interposition  of  his 
providence.  Wherever  they  turned  their  eyes,  it  was  not 
merely  the  luxuriant  fertility,  or  the  sublime  features  of  the 
scene,  which  told  them  of  the  goodness,  and  wisdom  and  power 
of  Jehovah ;  the  country  possessed  a  more  endearing  memorial, 
it  was  connected  with  a  more  thrilling  association.  It  spoke  to 
them  of  the  sti-ange  miracles  which  God  had  wrought  for  the 


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1830.]  LowtKB  Hebrew  Poetry.  357 

protection  of  his  chosen  people,  and  the  destruction  of  idola- 
trous nations. 

O  God,  when  Thou  didst  march  forth  before  Thy  people, 
When  Thou  didst  march  through  the  wilderness, — 

The  earth  shook,  the  heavens  also  dropped  at  the  presence  of 
God; 

Sinai  itself  at  the  presence  of  God — ^the  God  of  Israel ! 

Their  thoughts  were  never  shut  in  by  the  mere  limits  of  their 
physical  vision,  but  always^oared  upward  to  the  contemplation 
of  the  Deity.  When  they  attempted  to  describe  His  works, 
their  lips  involuntarily  uttered  His  name.  God  was  in  every 
thing,  and  every  thing  had  a  voice  of  praise  to  Him.  The 
fields,  the  forests,  the  rivers,  and  the  mountains,  exulted  in 
Jehovah,  like  animate  intelligences. 

The  hills  are  girded  with  exultation. 
The  pastures  are  clothed  with  flocks, 
The  valleys  are  covered  with  corn, 
They  shout  for  joy,  yea,  they  sing. 

They  looked  upon  creation,  not  with  the  feelings  of  natural 
philosophers,  but  with  the  fresh  admiration  of  the  soul.  No 
system  of  philosophy  chained  down  their  attention  to  secondary 
causes;  they  looked  to  God.  The  'course  of  nature'  was 
not ;  they  had  no  term  for  it ;  they  formed  no  idea  of  it ;  it 
was  God.  The  universe  and  its  minutest  existences  hung  sus- 
pended on  His  ever-present,  ever-acting,  everlastmg  agency. 
Each  night  His  hand  guided  the  stars  in  their  courses ;  each 
day  He  renewed  the  light,  and  garnished  the  earth  with  beauty. 
Not  a  flower,  but  was  die  object  of  His  care  ;  not  the  meanest 
animal,  that  did  not  live  by  His  goodness. 

He  prepareth  rain  for  the  earth, 

He  maketh  grass  to  grow  upon  the  mountains. 

He  giveth  to  the  beast  his  food. 

To  the  young  ravens  which  cry. 

He  is  represented  as  the  Universal  Father,  providing  daily  for 
the  wants,  and  taking  care  of  the  happiness  of  his  innumerable 
family.  It  is  this  which  gives  to  tlie  one  hundred  and  fourth 
psalm  its  inexpressible  beauty. 

These  wait  all  upon  Thee, 
To  give  them  their  food  in  its  season. 
Thou  givest  it  unto  them, — they  gather  it ; 
Thou  openest  wide  Thine  hand — they  are  satisfied  with  good. 
VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  46 


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S58  LotfftVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oet 

All  creation  repairs,  like  a  cbild^to  its  Father,  and  retires,  con- 
tented and  rejoicing  in  His  care.  The  Sacred  Poets  never 
contemplated  the  glories  of  Creation,  but  with  the  lively  grati- 
tude of  sincere  worshippers,  delighted  to  witness  and  to  feel 
•the  all-pervading  mercy  of  Jehovah.  The  utterance  of  their 
ecstacy  at  the  view  oi  the  scene  before  them,  was  the  fer- 
vent expression  of  real  emotions.  They  loved  a  minute 
enumeration  of  its  beauties,  because  it  was  a  moving,  animated 
picture  of  the  glory  and  benevolence  of  God ;  because  their 
souls  were  moulded  by  its  influence,  their  hearts  were  touched 
with  human  kindness,  they  sympathised  with  the  happiness  of 
all  animated  nature,  and  rejoiced  to  sing  forth  their  grateful, 
involuntary  praises  to  the  Giver  of  good. 

There  is  scarcely  an  object  in  nature,  which  they  do  not 
personify.  The  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  the  winds,  the 
clouds,  the  rain,  are  the  ministers  and  messengers  of  Jehovah. 
The  fields  and  the  trees  break  forth  into  singing,  and  even  clap 
their  hands  for  joy.  The  mountains  melt  at  His  presence, 
or  flee  from  His  wrath  in  terror ;  and  the  sun  and  the  moon 
hide  themselves  from  the  terrible  flashing  of  His  armor.  What 
unutterable  sublimity  do  such  bold  personifications  communi- 
cate to  that  chapter  in  Habakkuk,  commencing,  God  came, 
from  Temany — The  Holy  One  from  Mount  Paran. 

The  mountains  saw  Thee,  and  were  troubled ; 
The  overflowing  of  waters  passed  away  ; 
The  deep  uttered  its  voice, 
It  lifted  up  its  hands  on  high. 

The  sun  and  the  moon  stood  still  in  their  habitation ; 
In  the  light  of  Thine  arrows  they  vanished,* 
In  the  brightness  of  the  lightning  of  Thy  spear ! 
In  indignation  Thou  didst  march  through  the  land, 
In  wrath  Thou  didst  thresh  the  heathen. 


*  Several  distinguished  critics  render  this  passage,  ^^u^enf;  mak- 
ing the  personal  pronoun  refer  to  the  Israelites,  who,  he  thinks,  are  here 
described  as  marching  forth  to  victory  by  the  flaming  lightning  of  Je- 
hovah, represented  as  His  armor.  Herder,  with  a  more  poetical  con- 
ception of  the  passage,  and  perhaps  one  which  is  equally  critical,  says, 
that  the  sun  and  moon  are  here  described,  in  the  Oriental  manner,  as 
advancing  to  the  door  of  their  tent,  to  ffaze  at  the  fearful  commotion 
around  them;  but  overpowered  and  terrified  by  the  flashing  of  Jehovah's 
armor,  they  start  back,  and  vanish  or  hide  themselves  from  its  bright- 

9688. 


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1830.]  Lawth^s  Hebrew  Poetry. .  S59 

The  poetry  of  the  Hebrews  should  scarcely  be  mentioned  in 
connexion  with  that  of  other  nations,  but  to  point  out  its  vast  and 
dehghtful  superiority.  In  the  influences  and  the  circumstances 
under  which  it  grew,  it  has  scarcely  any  thing  in  common  with  the 
poetry  of  the  Pagan  world.  Excepting  the  important  fact  that 
we,  like  the  Sacred  Poets,  are  acquainted  with  the  true  religion, 
it  is  still  more  diverse  in  these  respects  from  the  poetry  of 
modern  times.  With  them,  it  was  the  pure  offspring  of  nature. 
They  had  no  critics,  they  knew  no  laws  of  rhetoric,  no  technical 
variety  of  composition.  The  schools  of  the  Prophets  were  the 
only  institutions  in  which  they  made  the  power  of  conveying  in- 
struction, oral  or  written,  any  thing  like  a  study.  There  they 
prepared  themselves  in  human  learning,  and  when  the  Spirit 
of  Inspiration  descended  upon  them,  the  prophecies  and  the 
poetry  they  uttered  were  not  untinged  with  the  hues  of  their 
own  genius  and  feelings.  On  the  contrary,  every  peculiarity 
of  individual  intellect  was  made  vividly  conspicuous. 

Though  the  point  admits  of  doubt,  it  is  of  little  import- 
ance to  know  whether  the  earliest  snatches  and  glimpses  of 
poetry,  which  we  meet  with  in  the  Old  Testament,  such  as 
the  blessing  of  Jacob,  and  the  prophecies  of  Balaam,  were 
at  first  uttered  precisely  in  their  present  form,  or  reduced  to 
it  by  the  narrator.  The  wild,  hurried,  mournful,  unwilling 
strains  of  Balaam's  sublime  predictions,  are  full  of  the  ap- 
pearance of  having  been  the  immediate,  irresistible,  we  had 
almost  said,  verbal  inspiration  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  The 
King  of  Moab,  finding  it  impossible  for  Balaam  to  curse  Israel 
— *How   shall    I   curse   whom    God   hath    not    cursed?' — 

r laced  him  in  three  difierent  situations.  *  Come,  I  pray  thee, 
will  bring  thee  unto  anotlier  place ;  peradventure  it  will 
please  God  that  thou  mayest  curse  me  them  from  thence.' 
We  behold  the  prophet  in  imagination,  standing  amidst  the 
princes  of  Moab,  on  the  high  places  of  Baal,  or  the  summit  of 
Pisgah,  his  arm  outstretched  and  pointing  to  the  white  tents  of 
Jacob,  which  spread  out  far  and  peacefully  over  the  plam  be- 
neath him,  his  countenance  almost  transfigured  by  the  vision 
of  his  soul — ^bursting  forth  at  once  into  the  most  majestic  strain 
of  prophecy  and  poetry. 

Lo!  the  people  shall  dwell  alone, 

They  shall  not  be  numbered  among  the  nations  ! 

Who  shall  count  the  dust  of  Jacob, 

Or  the  number  of  the  fourth  part  of  Israel  t 


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360  LawtVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct. 

Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous. 
And  let  my  last  end  be  like  his ! 

•  •        •        •        • 

I  shall  see  him,  but  not  now ! 
I  shall  behold  him,  but  not  nigh ! 
There  shall  come  a  Star  out  of  Jacob, 
A  Sceptre  shall  rise  out  of  Israel. 

•  •        •        •        • 

How  goodly  are  thy  tents,  O  Jacob  ! 

Thy  tabernacles,  O  Israel  I 

As  the  valleys  are  they  spread  forth, 

As  gardens  by  the  river's  side. 

As  the  trees  of  aloes,  which  the  Lord  hath  planted. 

As  the  cedars  by  the  water-courses  ! 

Balaam  is  the  most  sublime  example  of  the  nature  of  the 
prophetic  impulse,  in  the  whole  Bible.  From  the  account  given 
of  him  (Numbers,  xxii.  xxiii.  xxiv.)  we  should  deem  it  very 
probable,  that  we  have  his  words  precisely  as  they  came  from  the 
lips  of  the  excited  prophet.  There  is  the  same  probability  in 
regard  to  the  blessing  of  Jacob.  Yet  the  present  highly  sub- 
lime and  poetical  structure  of  these  pieces  might  have  been 
given  them  by  Moses.  None  can  doubt  his  ability.  His  Ode  on 
the  Passage  of  the  Red  Sea,  his  prophetic  blessing  on  the 
tribes  of  Israel  before  his  death,  his  song  of  warning  to  the 
congregation,  and  the  ninetieth  Psalm,  prove  that  he  possessed 
a  genius  equal  to  that  of  the  finest  poets  of  his  nation. 

It  is  probable  that  much  of  the  poetry  in  the  Old  Testament, 
the  prophetic  poetry,  was  composed,  as  we  say,  extempore ; — 
uttered  in  a  poetical  form — the  best  adapted  to  the  expression 
of  sublime  ideas  and  excited  feeling — ^under  the  immediate  in- 
fluence of  inspiration.  From  the  example  of  Elisha,  (2d 
Kmgs,  iii.  15,)  who,  when  about  to  deliver  a  message  from  Je- 
hovah, called  for  a  minstrel,  and  when  the  harp  was  touched, 
*  the  hand  of  the  Lord  came  upon  him,'  and  from  other  instan- 
ces, we  are  led  to  believe,  that  the  Hebrew  prophets  and  poets 
may  have  often  composed  with  the  aid  of  instrumental  music, 
uttering  their  predictions,  or  chanting  their  extempore  hymns 
to  accompany  the  strain. 

In  regard  to  Isaiah,  there  is  internal  evidence  that  his  pre- 
dictions were  not  committed  to  writing  till  after  they  were 
spoken,  and  the  highest  probability  that  they  were  spoken  in 
their  present  form.     From  the  very  instructive  and  interesting 


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1830.]  I^owtVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  S6t 

account  in  Jeremiah  xxxvi.  we  find,  that  in  the  fourth  year  of 
king  Jehoiakim,  the  prophet,  by  the  command  of  Grod,  dictates 
to  Baruch  the  scribe,  for  the  first  time,  all  his  previous  pK)pfae- 
cies.  After  this  roll  is  destroyed  by  the  angry  monarch,  Ba- 
ruch again  writes  ^  from  the  mouth  of  Jeremiah,  all  the  words 
of  the  book,  which  Jehoiakim,  king  of  Judah,  had  burned  in 
the  fire  ;  and  there  were  added  besides  unto  them  many  like 
words.'  From  such  passages  there  is  reason  to  believe,  that 
the  prophetic  poetry  of  the  Old  Testament  comes  to  us  exactly 
in  the  words  and  the  form  in  which  it  was  at  first  spoken.  It 
can  scarcely  be  otherwise ;  for  why  should  the  prophet  alter  or 
remodel  what  he  had  originally  uttered  from  inspiration,  and 
what  all  who  had  heard  it  could  not  fail  to  recollect  ? 

The  parallelistic  arrangement  is  the  most  marked  and  gene- 
ral characteristic  of  Hebrew  poetry.  Though  it  became  more 
regular  with  music  and  dancing,  and  though  it  seems  to  have 
been  customary  with  the  Hebrews  to  chant  their  sacred  hymns 
in  alternate  choirs,  answering  each  other  in  the  correspondent 
lines,  yet  it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  we  are  to  look  to  the  con- 
stitution of  the  human  mind  for  the  origin  of  this  system. 
Strong  feeling  is  never  satisfied  with  the  simple  assertion  of  a 
sentiment ;  it  must  be  repeated  and  enforced  by  a  variety  and 
change  of  expression.  The  best  specimens  of  Indian  elo- 
quence which  we  possess,  exhibit  some  beautiful  instances  of  a 
parallelism  like  that  of  the  Hebrew  Poets. 

Whatever  might  have  been  its  origin,  it  exhibits  itself  not 
only  as  the  characteristic  peculiarity  of  the  sacred  poetry, 
but  as  one  of  its  most  beautiful  features.  Its  simplicity  is  such 
that  it  never  tires  or  becomes  monotonous,  but  always  falls  upon 
the  ear  with  new  gratification.  An  English  poet  and  critic 
finely  remarked  in  regard  to  it,  *  In  repeating  the  same  idea  in 
difierent  words,  the  Hebrew  muse  seems  as  if  displaying  a  fine 
opal,  that  discovers  fresh  beauty  in  every  new  light  to  which  it 
is  turned.  Her  amplifications  of  a  given  thought,  are  like  the 
echoes  of  a  solemn  melody ;  her  repetitions  of  it,  like  the 
landscape  reflected  in  the  stream.  And  whilst  her  ques- 
tions and  responses  give  a  life-like  eflfect  to  her  composi- 
tions, they  remind  us  of  the  alternate  voices  in  public  de- 
votion, to  which  they  were  manifestly  adapted.'  This  sub- 
ject is  illustrated  with  great  beauty  in  thie  nineteenth  of 
Lowth's  Lectures.  It  would  seem  incredible,  were  it  not 
palpably  exemplified  in  the  most  sublime  instances,  that  the 


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LowthU  Hebrew-  Poetry. .  [Oct 

simple  repeduoD  of  an  idea,  often  with  very  litde  variety,  even 
in  the  expression,  can  be  productive  of  so  powerful  an  eflect. 
The  twen^-ninth  Psalm,  which  is  so  full  of  majesty,  owes  the 
strength  of  its  impression  on  the  soul  of  the  reader  in  a  great 
measure  to  the  amplification  of  one  or  two  sublune  ideas  in  the 
nervous  simplicity  of  the  Hebrew  paraUelism.  We  may  be 
permitted  to  illustrate  this  truth  by  a  short  quotation. 

The  voice  of  Jehovah  is  upon  the  waters ; 
The  God  of  glory  thundereth; 
Jehovah  is  upon  many  waters. 
The  voice  of  Jehovah  is  powerful ; 
The  voice  of  Jehovah  is  full  of  majesty. 
The  voice  of  Jehovah  breaketh  the  cedars ; 
Jehovah  breaketh  the  cedars  of  Lebanon. 

Whether  the  Hebrew  poetry  possessed  any  regular  metre  in 
connexion  with  this  parallelism,  or  what  was  its  exact  nature, 
we  have  no  means  of  determining.  The  frequent  adaptation 
of  its  strains  to  music,  renders  it  probable  that  it  must  have 
been  regulated,  if  not  by  syllabic  laws,  yet  by  fixed  principles  of 
harmony  and  cadence.  The  corresponding  alternation  of  its 
distichs  may  be  denominated  verse  ;  but  this  arrangement  was  . 
unfettered  with  rhyme,  and  adapted  itself  with  an  agreeable 
irregularity  to  the  various  character  and  symmetry  of  the 
thought.  For  this  reason,  a  professed  translation  of  the  Sacred 
Poets  is  displeasing,  unless  the  parallelistic  divisions  be  as  nearly 
as  possible  preserved,  without  the  addition  either  of  rhyme 
or  metre.  The  English  language  seems  to  be  the  best  adapt- 
ed of  all  modern  tongues  to  the  accomplishment  of  this  pur- 
pose ;  because  it  is  the  one  which  expresses  most  distinctly 
the  spirit  and  beauty  of  the  original  with  the  least  variation 
from  the  form  and  letter.  In  rendering  all  other  foreign  poetry 
into  his  own  language,  the  translator  may  often,  wi^  the 
greatest  happiness,  vary  botli  the  coloring  and  expression 
of  his  author's  thoughts ;  and  he  is  not  unfrequently  obliged 
to  call  in  the  aid  of  metre  and  rhyme,  sometimes  to  cover 
the  poverty  or  conceal  the  extravagance  of  the  sentiment, 
and  generally,  to  give  additional  pleasure  to  the  reader. 
But  in  a  translation  from  the  Sacred  Poets,  the  mind  invol- 
untarily rejects  .every  foreign  ornament ;  it  asks  for  no  arti- 
ficial beauty  which  the  original  does  not  possess;  it  de- 
mands the  soul  of  the  poetry  in  a  garb  as  plain  and  simple  as 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  LowOCb  Hebrew  Poetry.  ^36S 

,the  idiom  of  a  modem  language  will  possibly  admit.  It  is  a 
strikmg  proof  of  the  amazing  power  of  the  Inspired  Poets,  that 
they  cannot  be  divested  of  their  native  majesty  and  beauty, 
even  in  the  most  languid  versions  of  the  most  miserable  tongues ; 
and  on  the  other  hand,  that  with  the  most  vivid,  accurate,  and 
admirable  translation  of  which  any  language  is  capable,  it  is 
impossible  to  convey  an  adequate  impression  of  what  the  mind 
feels,  when  admitted  to  enjoy  the  full  excellence  of  their  poetry 
in  the  very  idiom  in  which  it  was  originally  uttered. 

One  great  cause  of  the  difficulty  of  conveying  its  spirit  fully 
into  other  languages,  is  found  in  the  character  of  life,  breath, 
and  motion,  which  belongs  to  its  bold  and  figurative  expressions, 
notwithstanding  their  remarkable  simplicity.  They  invest  the 
thought  and  display  it  before  the  mind,  as  the  most  transparent 
atmosphere  surrounds  the  beautiful  objects  and  appearances  of 
the  natural  world,  presenting  them  perfect  to  the  vision. 
Imagination  and  language  seem  moulded  into  one,  and  inspired 
with  the  same  ceasjeless  energy.  Thus  the  activity  of  that 
subtle  power  is  never  compelled  to  wait  for  the  service  of 
words ;  it  seems  as  if  at  every  new  movement  it  created  a  new 
and  picturesque  idiom  to  answer  its  demand,  and  clothe  the 
ideal  image  with  life.  Other  languages  employ  abstract  terms 
and  dry  delineations  of  thought ;  but  the  Hebrew  refuses  them, 
and  indulges  its  love  of  powerful  metaphor  by  investing  abstract 
ideas  and  inanimate  objects  with  all  the  vivid  attributes  of  ex- 
istence. The  morning  stars  are  sons  of  the  dawn;  arrows  are 
sons  of  the  boWj  or  of  the  quiver ;  the  hills  are  girded  with 
exultation  ;  the  deep  uttereth  its  voice,  and  lifteth  up  its  hands 
on  high;  die  ark  vmks  upon  the  face  of  the  waters  ;  the  blood 
of  Abel  cries  from  the  ground;  and  the  shadow  of  death  is  on 
the  eyelids  of  the  mourner.  Again,  when  they  describe  a  tu- 
multuous commotion^  they  speak  of  the  roar  of  the  waves  and 
the  tumult  of  the  people;  and  when  the  voice  of  Jehovah  is 
uttered,  there  is  the  stiUness,  and  trembling,  and  ^  melting  away ' 
of  the  earth  and  the  nations.  To  their  remarkable  simplici^, 
and  the  united  grandeur,  familiarity,  and  frequent  use  of  their 
metaphors,  are  owing,  in  a  great  measure,  the  strength,  vivid- 
ness and  energy  of  their  descriptions. 

They  had  no  languid,  luxurious,  or  sonorous  epithets, 
such  as  those  with  which  other  poets  often  encumber  and 
weaken  their  thoughts,  and  which  are  often  considered,  with 
great  perversity  of  taste,  a  rare  beauty  in  poetical  compoation  j 


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SM  LowOfs  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct 

thev  bad  even  none  such  as  the  Greeks  and  Romans  used, 
DOtbing  like  the  ^  silver-footed,'  or  the  *  golden-haired,'  or  the 
*  fiir-danmg.'  We  all  remember  the  a'gyvgom^a  Oercgy  the 
xogvBaioXog  "Exroig^  the  reg)€ltiyegiTa  Zevs^  the  7wXv^l.oi6^oio 
OaXdiSdfjfj  and,  still  more  richly  poetical,  the  elvo<f^g>vXXov 
JliiXcov^  of  Homer.  The  Greek  is  full  of  such  picturesque 
and  imaginative  expressbns,  and  Homer,  of  all  poets,  uses 
them  with  the  most  admirable  freedom  imd  sldlL  Our  own 
language  too  is  not  unadorned  with  this  beauty.  Milton, 
who  almost  thought  in  the  rich  languages  of  antiquity,  exhibits 
many  fine  examples  of  it,  such  as  ^  sable-vested  night,'  '  drow- 
sy-flighted steeds,'  '  dose-curtained  sleep.'  CoUins,  another 
master  of  the  mingled  richness  and  fineness  of  our  language, 
uses  compounds  of  great  merit ;  we  recollect  the  ^  dim-dis- 
covered spires,'  in  his  Ode  to  Evening.  In  the  older  poets, 
Spenser,  JDrayton,  Shakspeare,  they  often  occur.  But  the 
ELebrews,  in  dieir  severe  simplicity,  seem  ahnost  to  have  dis- 
dained to  resort  to  such  artificial  combinations,  however  beau- 
tiful. The  genius  of  their  language  is  superior  to  them.  Their 
adjectives  do  not  even  admit  an  aheration  from  the  positive 
form ;  the  comparative  degree  being  expressed  by  prefixing  a 
preposition  to  the  noun;  the  superlative  has  no  appropriate 
form  or  construction,  but  is  expressed  by  various  cnrcumlocu- 
tions.  They  have  no  compound  epithets.  They  accordingly 
express  their  thoughts  with  the  most  unconscious  simplicity, 
and  seem  to  have  known  no  such  thing  as  an  attempt  to  elabo- 
rate their  language,  or  retouch  its  colors.  The  arts  of  criti- 
cism and  correction  did  not  then  exist.  They  wrote,  not  for 
fame,  not  from  imitation,  but  firom  unsought  and  irresistible 
impulses ;  from  the  free  flow  of  devotional  and  patriotic  feel- 
ing.    All  was  pure  nature,  fresh,  young,  undiseased. 

The  peculiar  construction  of  their  language  rendered  it  more 
poetical  than  any  other  in  existence.  Herder  called  it  ^  an 
abyss  of  verbs  and  verbal  derivatives — a  sea  of  energetic  ex- 
pressions, agitated  and  tosang  with  life  and  motion.'  To  those 
who  are  acquainted  with  the  Hebrew  tongue,  the  figure  is  not 
extravagant.  Almost  every  noun  looks  to  the  verb  as  its  an- 
cestor, and  communicates  to  all  successive  derivations  the  same 
character  of  activity  which  it  received  from  its  own  origin. 
The  nouns  too  are  used  as  adjectives,  and  preserve,  through 
all  their  shades  and  changes,  the  life  and  energy  of  the  parent 
stock*     The  verb  is  the  strong  trunk  of  a  noble  tree,  whose 


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1830.]  LawtKs  Hebrew  Poetry.  S65 

boughs  and  foliage  and  fruits  constitute  the  whole  wide-spread- 
ing language,  its  conciseness  is  likewise  such  as  cannot  be 
imitated  in  any  other  tongue.  Particles — rwhich  invariably 
weaken,  at  the  same  time  that  they  connect  a  language — have 
scarce  a  separate  existence,  being  joined  to  some  important 
word.  Conjunction,  pronoun,  and  verb,  form  but  one  word ; 
object,  subject,  and  predicate,  may  be  uttered  in  one.  The 
English  circumlocution,  '  and  he  said  to  me,'  would  be  ex- 
pressed by  the  Hebrews  in  a  single  term  ;  and  as  a  still  more 
remarkable  example  of  this  peculiar  brevity  and  force,  they 
might  utter  in  one  word  the  whole  English  sentence,  '  as  he  has 
given  to  me.'  It  is  no  wonder  that  with  such  a  language  they 
could  be  sublime ;  and  how  much  of  their  sublimity  must  ne- 
cessarily evaporate  in  a  translation ! 

Again,  they  have  but  two  tenses,  and  the  first  may  be  used 
indifierently  for  past,  present,  and  future ;  yet  without  creating 
obscurity  in  the  sense,  or  want  of  exactness  in  expressing .  the 
nicest  shades  of  meaning.  This  change  of  tenses  gives  an 
astonishing  vividness  to  their  poetical  composition,  and  converts 
their  very  history  into  poetry.  If  they  prophecy  a  future  event, 
it  is  present;  if  they  relate  a  past  one,  it  is  also  present. 
Everything  breathes,  moves,  is  a  living  reality,  in  the  mind, 
and  is  clothed  with  life  in  the  expression. 

In  order  fully  to  appreciate  the  beauty  and  understand  the 
.meaning  of  the  Hebrew  poetry,  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
the  reader  to  be  acquainted,  not  merely  with  the  language  in 
which  it  is  written,  but  with  the  sources  from  which  its  imagery 
is  drawn.  His  mind  should  be  imbued  with  an  atmosphere  of 
Orientalism.  By  the  study  of  the  history,  climate,  scenery, 
manners,  &c.  of  the  Hebrews,  he  should  become  so  familiar 
with  every  thing  relating  to  their  modes  of  life  and  feeling,  as 
to  be  able,  when  reading  their  compositions,  to  read  them  with 
something  of  that  general  state  of  mind  in  which  tliey  were 
written.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  student  in  Theology,  at  least, 
thus  to  prepare  himself  for  their  examination.  Yet  it  is  a  rare 
circumstance  to  find  an  individual,  who  gives  to  this  study  its 
due  weight  and  its  proper  place.  An  adequate  knowledge  of 
sacred  geography  and  of  Oriental  customs  is  uncommon ;  and 
there  are  some  students,  who  nobly  appreciate  the  importance  of 
a  constant  perusal  of  the  scriptures  for  the  acquisition  of  their 
spirit,  spending  hour  after  hour  in  the  devotional  contempladon 
and  study  of  divine  truth,  yet  strangely  neglect  that  other  part  of 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  47 


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366  LowtVs  Hebrew  Poetty.  [Oct. 

"discipline  and  duty,  and  never  think  of  consulting  Bbdmit, 
Nie]buhr,  Calmet,  or  Rebnd. 

To  the  prevailirig  disregard  of  such  a  method  of  studyingthfe 
Hebrew  scriptures  was  added,  till  the  latter  part  of  the  hst 
century,  a  very  general  ignorance  of  their  real  nature.  If  it 
was  known  that  such  'a  thing  as  Hebrew  poetry  existed,  yet 
the  prophetic  writings  were  never  believed  to  belong  to  its  de- 
partment, and  no  one  had  attempted  to  point  out  its  pecuM 
charadtisristics,  till  Lowth  applied  himself  so  saccessfully  to  the 
investigation  of  this  subject.  Before  the  appearance  of  his 
volume,  scarcely  anything  had  been  accomplished  in  the  whote 
Ivide  range  of  saci'ed  literature  which  it  occupies.  The  English 
'dteologians  had  confined  their  labors  principally  to  the  prepa- 
ration of  paraphrastical  commentaries  on  the  Sacred  Books, 
which,  however  calculated  to  edify  the  devout  reader,  were 
admirably  adapted  to  conceal  the  wailt  of  profound  investiga- 
tion, and  to  make  both  writer  and  ifeader  satisfied  with  super- 
ficial views.  These  had  been  very  generally  translated  and 
imitated  in  Germany ;  for  it  was  not  till  after  this  period,  that 
the  German  mind  was  roused  to  those  efibrts  in  biblical  learn- 
ing, which  have  since  produced  such  astonishing  results.  Sin- 
gular as  it  may  seem,  it  was  undoubtedly  Lowth's  work, 
which  gave  the  first  impulse  to  these  studies  in  that  country, 
and  animated  a  whole  host  of  profound  scholars  to  follow  m 
his  train.  This  is  nobly  acknowledged  by  the  Germans  them- 
selves. *  Let  no  man  forget,'  says  Eichhom,  *  what  he  was 
for  his  own  age ;  how  beneficial  was  his  influence  upon  his 
contemporaries  ;  that  we  have  become  what  we  are,  in  part  at 
least,  by  his  aid ;  and  that  he  has  helped  us  forward  many 
steps  by  his  investigations  and  masterly  example.' 

The  previous  critical  investigations  of  the  most  leartled  bib- 
lical scholars,  both  in  England  and  on  the  continent,  had  been 
principally  confined  to  the  classification  and  comparison  of 
manuscripts,  and  the  settlement  of  the  scriptural  text.  Such 
had  been  the  profound  and  patient  researches  of  Cappell 
and  Carpzof,  Walton,  Welstein  arid  Mills.  Father  Simon,  in 
•France,  nad  nobly  distinguished  himself  in  the  critical  history 
of  the  sacred  text  and  interpretation.  Glassius  weiit  far  be- 
yond his  own  age  in  his  volume  on  the  style  and  literature  and 
interpretation  of  the  Old  and  New  Testamtents.  Bochart,  a 
country-parish  minister  in  France,  had  published  works  on 
sacred  geography  and  natural  history,  which  continue  to  be 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1896!.]  Xrfni><4'»  Uebrem  Poi&trny  3$*^ 

the  peat  sources  of  real  learning  on  those  suhjecti^.  EogUsh 
scholars  had  also,  mcidentally  as  it  were,  distingubhed  theiQ- 
selves  by  aa  acquaintance  with  the  literature  of  the  Bible, 
and  the  manners  and  domestic  life  exhibited  in  it.  Such 
were  Selden,  Milton  and  <  the  very  learned  Hyde.'  But  the 
whole  field  of  Hebrew  poetry  lay  untouched.  Lowth  was 
fortunate  indeed  in  being  the  first  adventurer  to  investigate 
a  region  so  delightful.  While  the  clergymen  of  the  English 
church  had  been  profusely  lavishing  their  labors,  and  seeking 
every  opportunity  for  the  display  of  their  leammg,  in  the  ex- 
planation of  the  Grecian  poets,  they  had  wholly  passed  by 
this  mine  of  inestimable  richness.  It  was  left  to  be  explored 
by  a  man,  whose  religion  inspired  him  with  l]|etter  motives  than 
those  of  merely  human  ambition,  whose  modesty  kept  him  from 
presiumptipn,  whose  accomplisl^ments  in  the  whole  circle  of 
English  and  classical  learnmg  were  profound,  and  whose  bibli- 
cal erudition,  especially  his  acquaintance  with  the  Hebrew 
language,  well  qualified  him,  in  this  respect,  for  the  task. 

Neitiier  an  adequate  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew,  nor  any 
depth  of  critical  investigation  would  alone  have  prepared  him 
for  a  labor  at  once  so  erudite  and  delicate.  It  required  a  mind 
skilled  in  all  the  principles  of  eloquence,  and  acquainted  with 
the  histpry  and  philosophy  of  poetry  ;  a  taste  refined  in  an  un- 
common degree,  and  a  judgment  deep,  acute  and  penetrating. 
I^wth's  origmal  genius  was  of  a  very  high  order,  and  his  edu* 
caUoi^  had  been  comprehensive  and  noble.  His  intellect  was 
imbued  with  the  richness  of  the  literature  of  Greece  and 
Borne,  and  bis  taste  had  been  cultivated  to  an  exquisite  re* 
finement  of  discrimination.  The  stores  of  erudition  which 
he  had  amassed,  never  encupibered  his  mind,  nor  destroyed  its 
n^ore  in^ginative  suspeptibilities.  Those  rough  treasures  were 
a}l  melted  down  in  the  fire  of  his  genius,  which  converted 
them  into  brilliant  transparencies,  and  tinged  his  mopit  laborious 
acquisitions  with  the  hues  of  a  vigorous  and  active  fancy.  In 
that  age,  an  English  education  was  varied  and  rich  an^  massive, 
to  a  degree,  which  did  not  e^ist  in  any  other  country,  and  which 
has  not  existed  since  in  England.  The  University  pf  Oxford 
especially,  which  was  the  Alma  of  Lowth,  laid  the  ground-work 
deep  and  radical,  in  the  kifowledge  of  the  ancient  classics. 
Eicfahorn  refers  tq  this,  as  the  grand  reason  why  the  English 
scholarship  of  that  age  was  so  much  more  rich  and  beautiful, 
if  not  more  profound,  than  that  of  the  Germans.   It  is  this  also,, 


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868  LowtVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct 

in  a  great  measure,  which  gave  its  grandeur  and  massiveness  to 
the  earliest  and  best  age  of  English  literature.  The  habit  of 
such  an  intimate  study  of  that  most  perfect  of  all  languages, 
the  Greek,  as  would  enable  the  youthful  student  to  write  it 
with  ease  and  accuracy,  communicated  to  the  native  style  of 
the  great  English  writers  of  that  day  a  rich  copiousness  in 
language  and  a  nobleness  in  the  construction  of  sentences, 
which  has  almost  passed  from  existence.  To  the  discipline  of 
Lowth's  mind,  in  tlie  composition  of  both  poetry  and  prose  in 
the  ancient  languages,  must  be  attributed  in  a  great  degree  the 
majestic  elegance  and  dignity,  which  his  own  style  certainly 
possessed. 

Its  energetic  spirit,  both  in  language  and  thought,  are  to  be 
traced  not  merely  to  his  classical  education  as  its  origin,  but  to 
another  source.  For  while  the  classical  attainments  required 
in  a  course  of  liberal  study  at  that  day,  were  broader  and 
deeper  than  in  ours,  the  discipline  in  other  branches  of  science, 
and  in  the  noble,  native  literature  of  Great  Britain,  was  pro- 
portionably  vigorous,  original  and  varied.  Such  minds  as 
Liowth's  and  Burke*s  and  Johnson's  were  formed  upon  the 
study  of  a  native  literature,  strong  and  magnificent  in  its  cast. 
They  were  formed  by  an  intimate  communion  with  men 
such  as  Milton,  and  Hooker,  and  Leighton,  and  Barrow,  and 
Chillingworth,  and  Taylor,  and  Stillingfleet,  and  Usher,  and 
Selden  and  Hyde ;  and,  we  might  almost  say,  a  host  more 
like  them — men  of  comprehension  and  energy,  from  whose 
writings  wisdom  and  learning  were  dealt  out  to  their  readers 
in  whole  ingots,  instead  of  being  beaten  into  gold  leaf,  or  fru- 
gally scattered  here  and  tliere  in  parsimonious  grains — ^men  of 
gigantic  intellectual  grasp  and  sublime  fancy — ^mighty  in  rea- 
soning, and  not  less  powerful  and  grand  in  imagination— -men, 
too,  in  whose  souls  &e  agitating  circumstances  amidst  which 
they  were  born  and  nurtured,  had  conspired  to  nourish  a  re- 
publican freedom  and  firmness  of  thought,  and  a  range  of  sen- 
timent elevated  far  above  any  thing  insignificant  and  mean. 
Can  we  wonder  tliat  scholars  like  Lowth  have  disappeared, 
when  the  iron  cradle,  in  which  their  genius  was  rocked,  has 
been  laid  aside  for  the  silken  swaddling-bands  of  Addison  and 
Blair  ?  It  is  a  favorable  indication  in  the  spirit  of  the  present 
age  that  a  taste  for  those  old  and  noble  writers,  on  whose 
model  such  as  he  were  formed,  is  beginnmg  to  return  among 

U8 


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1830.]  LowthU  Hebrew  Poetry.  869 

It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance,  that  Lowth  entered  on 
his  task,  not  as  a  biblical  critic,  nor  in  his  province  of  theolo- 

E*an ;  but  as  professor  of  poetry  at  Oxford.  He  chose  the 
ebrew  poetry  as  the  subject  of  his  first  course  of  lectures, 
after  the  example,  as  he  tells  us  in  a  happy  classical  allusion, 
of  Socrates ;  who  began  his  musical  studies  by  composmg  a 
hymn'  to  Apollo,  because  he  thought  that  the  first  fruits  of  his 
poetry  ought  to  be  consecrated  to  the  immortal  Gods,  and  that 
It  was  not  lawful  for  him  to  descend  to  lighter  subjects,  before 
be  had  discharged  his  obligations  to  religion.  He  chose  it  be- 
cause almost  every  common  path  had  been  trodden  by  his 
predecessors  in  office,  while  this  afibrded  a  field  of  investiga- 
tion altogether  original,  and  most  grateful  to  his  fine  taste  and 
religious  disposition. 

It  was  his  object  in  the  execution  of  his  plan,  to  develope 
the  beauties  of  the  Sacred  Poets  in  a  view,  which  should  arrest 
the  attention  of  his  hearers,  and  lead  them  to  the  farther  pros- 
ecution of  a  study  so  full  of  profit  and  delight.  To  his  pupils 
the  subject  was  altogether  novel.  They  had  been  conversant 
principally  with  the  poetry  of  Greece  and  Rome  ;  and  it  was 
at  that  day  the  prevailing  habit,  to  criticise  all  poetry  accord- 
ing to  the  models  of  the  ancient  bards  and  the  laws  of  ancient 
critics.  In  France,  there  was  no  such  thing  known  as  a  simple 
and  natural  perception  of  poetical  beauty,  or  a  truly  philo- 
sophical and  unconstrained  manner  of  poetical  criticism.  And 
even  in  England,  the  examples  of  Milton  and  Shakspeare 
had  hardly  yet  superseded  the  dogmas  of  Aristode  and 
Longinus,  or  brought  critics  to  consider,  that  there  might 
be  other  models  beside  those  of  Homer  and  Virgil,  Euripides 
and  Sophocles.  It  was  therefore  very  natural  for  the  Oxford 
professor,  in  pointing  out  the  peculiarities  and  the  beauties  of 
the  Hebrew  poetry  to  the  admiration  of  his  audience,  to  meas- 
ure its  excellence  and  illustrate  its  merits  by  comparison  with 
that  standard,  to  which  they  had  so  long  been  accustomed  to 
refer.  He  proceeds  to  divide  it  into  the  various  technical  de- 
partments,—the  lyric,  the  elegiac,  the  didactic,  the  pathetic, 
&c. — where  the  Hebrew  poets  never  thought  of  such  a  divi- 
sion, nor  wrote  with  the  most  distant  design  of  making  it.  It 
should  have  been  treated,  as  far  as  possible,  with  a  forgetful- 
ness  of  all  other  models,  and  a  disregard  of  all  pre-established 
rules ;  as  apart,  distinct,  peculiar— just  as  if  there  were  no  other 
poetry  in  the  world.     Still,  we  should  be  sorry  to  have  lost  his 


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aVO  Iiotcxtik't  Uebrm  JPm^;  [Oct) 

dificnioiQAUDg  crki^iaaui  oo  the  poetry  of  Qv^eae  and  Rome, 
and  the  exquisite  selections,  which  be  produced  to  adorn  an^ 
illustrate  his  work. 

In  its  progress,  he  found  occasion  to  draw  from  all  his  re- 
sources of  invention,  learning  and  illustration*  He  displayed 
a  vivid  imagination,  mingled  with  richness  of  thought  and  gen-i 
tleness  of  feeling,  a  keen  perception  of  poetical  beauty,  a  power 
of  philosophical  criticism,  and  as  great  ease  in  the  use  of  the 
Latin  language,  as  if  it  had  been  his  vernacular  tongue.  The  pu- 
rity and  beauty  of  his  Latin  prose  style  has  hardly  been  surpanse^ 
since  the  age  of  Augustus.  Unfit  as  that  language  is  lor  the 
purposes  of  acute  and  refined  criticism,  his  felicity  in  adapting; 
it  to  the  expression  of  his  ideas  is  remarkable.  In  Fead^g 
the  English  translation  by  Gregory,  the  impression  is  left  on 
the  mind  of  the  reader,  that  Lowth's  style  is  deficient  in  defi- 
niteness  and  appropriate  richness  of  language.  Every  one, 
who  is  acquainted  with  the  power  and  beauty  of  Lowth's  writ- 
ings in  his  native  tongue,  must  regret  that  he  did  not  origi- 
nally compose  the  Lectures  in  the  English  language.  They 
would  then  have  been  a  noble  specimen  of  idiomatic  beauty  ei 
composition,  as  well  as  a  model  of  just  and  delicate  criticism. 
As  It  is,  the  defect  in  the  English  dress  is  to  be  attributed 
to  the  translator,  whose  own  style  of  writing  was  clumsy  and 
unimaginative. 

The  example  of  Lowth  in  this  great  work  pre-eminently 
shows,  how  much  may  be  accompli^d  simply  by  the  patient 
study  of  the  scriptures.  With  the  cognate  dialects  of  the  He- 
brew he  was  p^haps  totally  unacquainted ;  nor  was  he  very 
intimate  with  the  peculiarities  of  the  Oriental  world.  Yet  by 
tbe  persevering  study  of  the  Old  Testament  he  sittained  a  pro- 
imnd  knowledge  of  the  Hebrew  language ;  and  his  discrimi- 
nating judgment,  exquisite  taste,  and  acquaintance  with  the 
Hebrew  history  and  antiquities,  prevented  his  criticism  from 
ever  becoming  loose,  indefinite  or  extravagant,  and  made  him 
successful  in  discovering  the  sources  of  poetic  imagery. 
There  is  simplicity  and  truth  in  most  of  his  reasoning^.  He 
makes  no  parade  of  learning,  either  of  that  which  be  really 
possesses,  or  of  the  semblance  of  that  whereof  be  is  destitute. 
There  is  nothing  labored  in  his  conclusions,  nothing  affected  in 
his  sentiments,  nothing  arrogai^t  or  hasty  in  his  remarks ;  all  is 
free,  gentle  and  eandid.  He  was  making  discoveries  in  ^  re- 
gion entirdy  new,  yet  he  d^es  not  announce  them  with  the 


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.]  LawtA^  Stbrew  ^o€try.  Wi 

htAd  ©agcmess  df  an  acikeDtuf er,  but  ^th  ihe  ttiM  phflow^pfcjr 
<yf  one  who  is  seekbg  for  troth,  and  ^th  eveti  "a  painful  sense 
of  the  delicacy  and  responsibility  of  sdch  etn  office. 

A  ^oAi  to  important  in  Its  connexions,  so  novel  in  ks  char- 
acter, and  Conducted  with  so  much  leatning,  modesty  and 
*m^,  could  ibot  fail  to  ^rest  the  atttotion  of  learned  men  botfi 
in  his  own  country  and  on  the  'European  continent.  It  opened 
their  eyes  on  a  new  scene  of  the  most  mteresting  researches, 
and  formed  absolutely  a  new  era  in  intellectual  activity.  It 
drew  aside  the  veil,  which  had  so  long  concealed  the  grandeur 
of  inspired  poetry,  and  made  it  to  be  relished  and  acknowK 
«dged.  It  threw  new  light  on  the  explanation  of  the  Old 
Testament,  and  'introduced  a  more  acute  and  correct  method 
ih  the  investigation  of  the  sacred  poetical  books.  His  lecture 
on  parallelism,-»^e  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  Sacred 
■Poets, — ^was  altogether  the  work  of  original  genius,  and  sug- 
gested a  guide  fdr  the  intei'preter,  the  various  uses  of  which, 
in  discovermg  the  meaning  of  particular  words,  in  illustrating 
different  forms  of  expression,  in  elucidating  the  sense  of  ob- 
scure places,  and  in  me  general  critical  examination  of  He- 
brew poetry,  cannot  be  imagined  by  any  one  who  has  not  ex- 
perienced its  value.  He  resumed  this  part  of  his  subject  in 
the  prelimmary  dissertation  to  Isaiah,  where  he  wetit  mto  a 
more  full  and  minute  investigation  of  ihetnature  and  principles 
of  the  Hebrew  parallelism,  Sian  his  limits  as  a  lecturer  would 
have  permitted  him*to  do.  This  great  peculiarity  in  Hebrew 
poetry, 'from  an  ignorance  of  which  very  many  of  the  errorti 
of  commentators  arid  critics  have  originated,  had  before  been 
^arcely  hinted  at.  Azarias,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  made 
some  obscure  suggestions  in  tegard  to  it,  but  no  one  under^ 
^tood  its  nature,  or  had  traced  it  in  the  Sacred  Books,  or  at- 
tempted to  deduce  from  it  any  practical  utility.  ScUeusner 
followed  Lowth  on  this  subject  with  gr6at  learning  and  talent. 

Though  in  itself  the  fruit  of  mature  judgment  and  erudition, 
yet  so  little  is  this  work  encumbered  with  the  heaviness  or  the 
display  of  research,  that  a  reader  who  is  altogether  uninformed 
beyond  thfe  cottipass  bf  his  ov^  language  (if  he  have  any  poet- 
ical susceptibilities)  Will  pieruse  it  with  the  greatest  delight. 
WtB  deeply  regret  that  it  is  not  more  known  beyond  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  dericsU  study  and  the  theological  institution. 
Were  it  as  generally  pferused  as  its  excellence  deserves,  itivould 
ctevate  and  purify  thfe  taste  of  the  whole  community.    Who 


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87S  LawtVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct 

could  endure  the  prurience  and  blasphemy  of  Byron,  or  the 
voluptuousness  of  Moore,  after  having  had  but  a  glimpse  of  the 
glorious  poetry  of  the  Scriptures  ?  Who  would  not  relish  Mil- 
ton and  Cowper  with  a  deeper  pleasure,  after  having  himself 
tasted  the  richness  of  the  fountain,  at  whose  depths  they  drank 
so  largely — after  having  been  mstructed  in  the  highest  princi- 
ples of  an  art,  which  here  claims  the  wisdom  of  the  Deity 
as  its  origin  ? 

We  have  spoken  of  Lowth's  pure  and  elegant  Latinity.  He 
wrote  Latin  poetry  which  b  hardly  surpassed  in  beauty 
by  that  of  Horace  himself*  Of  this  we  have  very  many  ex- 
amples in  the  exquisite  Latin  translations  from  the  Sacred 
Poets,  scattered  throughout  this  volume.  There  are  no  Eng- 
lish scholars,  who  have  equalled  Lowth's  attainments  in  this 
elegant  art,  in  any  degree,  but  Sir  William  Jones  and  the  poet 
Gray.  The  epitaph  on  his  daughter's  tombstone  is  well 
known.  Nothbg  can  surpass  its  sweetness  and  its  pathos. 
She  was  his  first  and  favorite  child. 

Cara,  vale !  ingenio  praestans,  pietate,  pudore, 

£t  plusquam  nats  nomine  cara,  vale  ! 
Cara  Maria,  vale !     At  veniet  felicius  evum, 

Quando  iterum  tecum,  sim  modo  dignus,  ero. 
Cara,  redi,  Ista  turn  dicam  voce,  paternos 

Eja !  age  in  amplexus,  cara  Maria,  redi. 

WhQe  Lowth  was  lecturing  at  Oxford,  the  learned  Michaelis, 
then  a  young  student,  visited  England,  and  heard  him  deliver 
one  of  his  lectures  on  the  sacred  poetry  of  the  Hebrews.  Not 
long  after  the  lectures  were  published  in  England,  Michaelis 
prepared  an  edition  m  Germany,  with  very  copious  notes, 
which  was  published  at  Goettingen  in  1758  and  1761.  These 
notes  were  a  treasure  of  Oriental  learning,  and  supplied  what- 
ever deficiency  there  might  have  existed  in  the  lectures,  aris- 
ing from  the  want  of  an  exhibition  somewhat  more  complete, 
definite,  and  accurate,  of  the  peculiar  manners,  climate, 
scenery,  and  dialects,  of  the  Oriental  world.  They  were  ihe 
fi*uit  of  original  investigations,  pushed  forward  amidst  every 
obstacle,  with  an  energy  in  the  cause  of  sacred  literature,  which 
animated  no  other  man  living.  There  is  no  scholar,  who  does 
not  feel  indebted  to  the  venerable  Michaelis  for  the  accession 
which  he  thus  brought  to  the  means  of  illustrating  the  Hebrew 
poetry.    The  expedition  which  this  great  man  prepared  from 


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18S0.]  Lowth's  HArew  Poetry.  373 

his  quiet  abode  in  Germany,  to  visit  the  East  in  search  of  in- 
formation that  might  throw  light  upon  the  Bible,  has  some- 
thmg  very  sublime  in  its  character.  He  planned  and  directed 
it  himselfi  and  drew  up  a  list  of  questions  for  its  guide,  with  a 
sagacity  and  a  depth  of  knowledge  that  astonished  the  literati 
through  all  Europe.  The  expedition,  though  reduced  in  a  few 
months  by  death's  melancholy  inroads  from  five  individuals  to 
one,  resulted  in  the  travels  of  Niebuhr.  The  discrimination 
with  which  Michaelis  applied  his  inquuries  to  a  more  judicious 
and  worthy  exhibition  of  the  meaning  and  beauty  of  the  Sa- 
cred Poets,  evinced  a  purity  of  poetical  taste,  which  the 
admirers  of  his  great  learning  have  overlooked  in  the  enu- 
meration of  his  merits.  .  When  he  attempted  to  write  poetry 
himself,  he  was  not  indeed  so  successful;  and  was  clearly 
mistaken  when  he  said  of  himself,  that  had  it  not  been  for 
a  few  years'  neglect  of  the  practice,  he  might  have  written 
Latin  poetry  with  the  same  elegance,  which  he  admired,  even 
to  enthusiasm,  in  the  translations  of  Lowth.  Some  of  his  notes 
on  Lowth's  work  contain  remarks  on  the  interpretation  of  the 
sacred  poetry,  which  are  said  to  have  given  origin  to  several  of 
the  most  splendid  works  since  published  in  Germany.  It  may 
gratify  our  readers  to  be  presented  with  the  following  graphic 
sketch  of  the  manner  of  this  celebrated  Coryphaeus  of  German 
literature  in  the  lecture-room,  drawn  by  one  of  his  students. 
Dr.  Schultz,  of  Giessen. 

*  Very  often  his  glowing  imagination,  supplied  with  an  inex- 
haustible fiind  of  knowledge  from  every  department  of  the  sci- 
ences, lost  itself  with  his  voluble  tongue  in  story-telling  and 
dramatising  an  event  or  an  argument,  wide  enough  from  the 
point  from  which  he  set  out,  and  to  which  he  must  again  return. 
The  habit  of  eagerly  seizing  all  sorts  of  figures  and  queer  allusions 
and  strange  witticisms,  though  they  would  meet  him  only  half- 
way in  his  progress,  was  constantly  leading  him  off  into  the  wild- 
est by-paths  ;  and  then  he  heard  himself  talk  with  such  exquisite 
delight,  that  at  the  end  of  the  whole  hour,  nothing  would  be  lefl 
but  the  gratification  of  a  merry  entertainment.  In  this  respect 
he  was  particularly  irksome  to  the  more  cold-blooded  part  of  his 
students,  who  were  looking  for  instruction.  Whenever  his  keen 
eye,  which  was  constantly  darting  around  all  parts  of  his  lecture- 
room,  happened  to  detect  a  stranger,  he  was  sure  to  entertain 
him  with  a  few  quaint  jests,  good  in  their  kind,  only  a  little  too 
evidently  introduced  for  the  occasion.  As  they  were  mostly  de- 
rived from  law,  or  from  some  other  science  that  lay  altogether 
VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  69.  48 


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374  LowiKs  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct. 

without  the  boandaries  of  theology  and  the  Bible,  they  must  ne- 
cessarily have  surprised  the  guest  so  much  the  more,  and  filled  him 
with  wonder  at  the  learning  of  the  lecturer.  The  obstreperous 
laugh  poured  forth  on  occasion  of  his  jokes  from  the  full  throats  of 
a  hundred  of  the  most  thoughtless  students,  and  the  complacent 
smile  displayed  on  the  countenances  of  some  ten  or  fifteen  among 
the  more  cultivated  and  intelligent  ones,  were  extremely  gratify- 
ing and  delightful  to  his  feelings.  Such,  indeed,  was  the  great 
man's  weakness  on  this  point,  that  he  not  unfreqnently  laid  him- 
self out  with  evident  and  laborious  effort  to  raise  the  laugh  pre- 
cisely at  the  close  of  the  lecture ;  then  he  would  leave  the  room, 
as  if  in  triumph,  amidst  the  loud  shouts  of  laughter,  and  while 
passing  the  door,  you  might  see  him  cast  back  upon  his  audience 
a  look,  slily,  but  intensely  expressive  of  his  gratification  and 
pleasure.' 

Next  to  Michaelis,  though  after  a  long  interval  of  time, 
came  the  enthusiastic  Herder,  with  all  his  vast  learning  and 
poetical  genius,  to  the  prosecution  of  this  branch  of  sacred 
literature.  We  might  lavish  a  eulogy  on  the  character  of  this 
interesting  being,  as  a  poet,  philosopher,  philologist,  and  critic ; 
and  on  the  merits  of  his  two  great  works  in  the  department  of 
sacred  science,  his  Letters  on  the  Study  of  Theology,  and  his 
Dialogues  on  the  Spirit  of  Hebrew  Poetry.  In  himself  and  in 
his  writings,  he  has  given  a  fine  example  of  his  own  ideal  of 
a  perfect  critic  ou  the  Hebrew  poetry.  He  criticised  the 
poetry  of  the  Hebrews  like  one  imbued  with  its  spirit.  The 
form  of  dialogues,  which  he  chose  for  his  work,  was  adapted 
to  a  flow  of  easy,  natural  remark,  and  unrestrained  admiration, 
full  of  life  and  vividness,  but  in  reality,  the  result  of  patient 
study  and  a  most  profound  acquaintance  with  his  subject.  We 
obtain  from  this  work  the  most  exact  information,  while  at  the 
same  time  we  are  revellmg  in  poetry.  The  stores  of  learning 
in  the  mind  of  Herder  were  imbued  throughout  with  the 
subtle  spirit  of  his  genius.  He  wrote  this  work,  it  might  be 
said,  in  tears.  Mueller,  his  bosom  fi-iend  and  the  editor  of  his 
writings,  often  found  him,  when  engaged  in  its  composition, 
weeping  like  a  child,  through  the  intensity  of  his  feelings.  The 
style  is  easy  and  rambling,  but  full  of  eloquence,  and  sparkling 
with  poetic  imagery.  Herder  carries  us  back  by  the  power  of 
his  fancy  and  the  truth  of  his  descriptions,  into  the  midst  of  the 
ancient  Orientals,  and  surrounds  us  with  the  very  atmosphere  of 
their  life  and  manners.  Like  Michaelis,  widiout  surpassing 
Lowth  in  elegance  of  taste,  he  possessed  a  more  intimate  ac- 


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1830.]  Lowth's  Hebrew  Poetry.  875 

quaintance  with  Oriental  learning,  because  twenty-five  years 
had  provided  new  facilities  for  its  attainment. 

In  1815  Rosenmueller  prepared  in  Germany  a  new  edition 
of  Lowth's  work,  to  which  he  added  many  notes  of  his  own, 
and  corrected  the  errors  into  which  Michaelis  had  fallen.  Be- 
sides these  writers,  Sir  William  Jones,  Eichhorn,  Gesenius, 
De  Wette,  and  some  others,  have  jsince  the  time  of  Michaelis 
contributed  not  a  little  to  the  elucidation  of  this  subject. 

From  all  these  authors,  the  American  editor  of  this  work 
has  enriched  it  with  valuable  selections.  He  has  also  added  a 
number  of  notes,  which  are  entirely  original.  He  has  dis- 
played in  the  execution  of  his  task  much  sound  judgment  and 
research.  All  the  notes  he  has  selected  are  of  sterling  value ; 
and  those  which  are  the  result  of  his  own  investigations  ex- 
hibit originality  and  learning.  We  may  refer  to  the  note  he 
has  given  in  regard  to  the  Hebrew  dialects  and  poetic  diction 
as  one  of  uncommon  excellence,  the  result  of  original  research. 
We  cannot  but  express  our  gratitude  for  the  extracts  he  has 
given  us  from  the  writings  of  Sir  William  Jones.  Every 
thing  that  came  from  his  accomplished  mind  is  worthy  of 
preservation  ;  but  his  intimate  acquaintance  with  Oriental  lan- 
guages and  literature  makes  all  his  remarks  on  these  subjects 
most  precious.  We  are  not  sorry  to  see  some  of  the  selec- 
tions from  Rosenmueller  and  Michaelis,  and  from  some  other 
scholars,  in  Latb.  It  is  indeed  true,  that  every  theological 
student,  and  every  liberally  educated  man  among  us,  ought  to 
be  able  to  read  with  delight  a  Latin  style  so  easy  as  that  in 
which  most  of  the  Latin  notes  in  this  volume  are  composed. 
Mr.  Stowe  has  made  this  work  a  still  richer  accession  to  the 
library  of  every  literary  man,  and  a  still  more  indispensable 
requisite  for  the  study  of  sacred  literature.* 


*  Mr.  Stowe  is  already  known  to  the  public  as  the  translator  of 
Jabn's  Historjr  of  the  Hebrew  Commonwealth.  Shortly  ailer  its  ap- 
pearance in  tms  country,  this  valuable  work  was  republished  in  Eng- 
land, under  circumstances  which  reflect  but  little  credit  on  the  charac- 
ter of  those  who  superintended  its  publication.  The  translator's  name 
was  excluded  from  the  title  page,  and  for  aught  that  appeared  there, 
the  work  might  have  been  supposed  to  be  English.  At  the  close  of 
the  preface  was  the  following  note :  *In  this  edition  the  whole  has  been 
thoroughly  revised,  and  such  alterations  made  as  seemed  requisite  to 
render  the  author's  meaning  clear  and  intelligible.  The  American  edu 
tion  indeed  was  so  totaUy  unfit  fw  English  readers^  as  to  make  this  ahso^ 


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376  LowthU  HArew  Poetry.  [Oct 

In  1778,  Lowth  published  his  translation  of  Isaiah,  with  a 
preliminary  dissertation  and  notes.  In  this  work  he  displayed 
the  same  elegance  of  taste  as  in  bis  lectures,  with  perhaps  even 
more  learning.  Yet  it  is  remarkable  that  all  his  erudition  and 
all  his  modesty  did  not  save  him  from  errors  arising  from 
the  boldness  of  his  criticbms.  His  only  fault  as  a  sacred 
critic  was  a  degree  of  what  Archbishop  Seeker  denomi- 
nated the  ^  rabies  emendandij*  or  rage  for  textual  and  conjec- 
tural emendations.  The  prevalence  of  this  spirit  m  his  work 
on  Isaiah  was  the  only  obstacle  that  prevented  its  attaining  the 
same  rank  as  a  classic  in  sacred  literature,  which  has  been  ac- 
corded to  the  Lectures  on  the  Sacred  Poetry  of  the  Hebrews. 
^If  Lowth,  as  his  American  editor  very  jusdy  remarks, 
with  all  his  genius  and  scholarship,  was  betrayed  into  such 
errors,  when  lie  attempted  to  improve  the  text  of  the  Bible  by 
his  own  conjectures,  what  can  be  expected  from  others,  who 
without  his  talents  and  learning,  imitate  him  m  hb  daring  spirit 
of  conjecture  ?  It  should  be  remembered,  however,  to  the 
honor  of  Lowth,  that  he  usually  proposes  his  emendations  with 
all  the  modesty  and  dilSidence  characteristic  of  true  genius ; 

lutdy  necessary,^  Notwithstanding  this  barefaced  assertion,  it  is  per- 
fect^ evident  that  the  English  editors  had  not  even  compared  Mr. 
Stx)we's  translation  with  the  original  work,  when  they  republished  that 
translation  in  England.  Their  edition  is  m  substance  an  exact  reprint 
of  the  American.  In  some  cases  Mr.  Stowe  had  deemed  it  expedient 
to  deviate  from  the  original ;  and  ia  all  such  cases,  the  English  edition 
followed  the  American,  and  not  the  German.  The  very  typo^phical 
errors,  such  as  1446  for  1466,  which  had  occurred  in  the  Amencan  edi- 
tion, were  exactly  copied  in  the  English  republication ; — and  of  the  pro- 
found and  important  nature  of  the  alterations  by  which  the  English 
editor,  in  revising  the  translation,  endeavored  to  adapt  it  more  peculiarly 
to  English  readers,  we  may  jud^e  from  the  following  instances.  In  the 
American  edition,  where  Arabic  words  occurred,  ttiey  were  given  in 
Arabic  letters;  but  in  the  English  edition,  the  Arabic  words  were 
represented  by  Roman  letters ;  and  in  one  instance  the  English  editors 
omitted  the  Arabic  entirely.  Again : — the  American  edition,  speaking  of 
the  tithes  of  the  Levites,  said,  <  the  tithes  did  not  amount  to  any  thing  Bke 
those  enormous  sums,  at  which  Morgan  has  arrived  by  his  erroneous 
calculations.'  In  the  English  edition  the  sentence  runs  thus:  <the 
tithes  did  not  amount  to  any  thing  near  the  enormous  sums,  which 
Morgan  has  erroneously  calculated  them  atP  Could  the  English  edi- 
tors nave  thought  that  such  changes  as  we  have  mentioned,  occurring 
on  almost  everv  page,  would  make  the  avlhor's  meaning  more  dear  ar3 
inteUigtbU,  ana  render  the  work  more  Jit  for  EnffiisK  readers ;  or  was  it 
their  only  object  to  make  the  English  emtion  different  from  the  Amer- 
ican ? 


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1830.]  LowtVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  377 

diat  he  wrote  before  the  text  of  the  Bible  was  settled,  and  at  a 
time  when  great  results  were  expected  from  the  collations  of 
Kennicott ;  that  he  had  the  ardent  and  adventurous  spirit  of  a 
new  discoverer ;  and  that  critics  at  that  period  had  not  learned 
so  well  as  they  have  since,  that  patient  application  is  a  much 
surer,  though  a  more  toilsome  way  of  coming  at  truth,  than 
bold  conjecture,  which  costs  neither  time  nor  labor.' 

We  have  before  spoken  of  Lowth's  general  character  as  a 
scholar.  It  is  impossible,  with  the  meagre  biographical  out- 
lines which  alone  remain  to  us,  to  do  it  adequate  justice. 
Whatever  he  undertook  was  so  performed,  that  it  left  very  little 
to  be  accomplished  m  the  same  routine  of  study  and  labor. 
He  gave  to  England  the  first  regular  grammar  of  his  native 
tongue.  We  are  somewhat  surprised  that  Murray's  grammar, 
which  is  but  an  enlarged  copy  of  Lowth's,  should  so  generally 
have  occupied  its  place  ;  and  that  too  with  little  acknowledge- 
ment to  the  individual,  from  whom  were  derived  its  plan  and 
mostof  its  materials.  Although  Lowth's  treatise  was  written 
so  early  as  the  year  1768,  yet  we  doubt  whether  there  is  at  the 
present  day  a  single  work  of  equal  excellence  in  the  same 
compass. 

The  private  character  of  Lowth  was  not  less  adorned  with 
all  the  virtues  of  domestic  life,  than  his  public  one  with  the  ur- 
banity, the  elegance  and  the  elevated  dignity  of  learning  and 
religion.  Even  his  insolent  antagonist,  Warburton,  could  admire 
his  amiable  manners  and  the  winning  modesty  of  his  whole 
deportment.  In  one  of  his  letters  to  Lowth,  he  observes, 
*  It  would  answer  no  end  to  tell  you  what  I  thought  of  the 
author  of  Hebrew  Poetry  before  I  saw  him.  But  diis  I  may 
say,  that  I  was  never  more  surprised  when  I  did  see  him,  than 
to  find  him  of  so  amiable  and  gentle  manners,  of  so  modest, 
sensible  and  disengaged  a  deportment.  It  would  not  have 
displeased  me  to  find  myself  ill  used  by  pedants  and  bigots ; 
but  it  grieved  me  to  think  I  had  any  thing  to  explain  with  such 
a  man.'  His  disposition  was  every  where  affectionate  and 
kind  ;  his  love  to  his  offspring  uncommonly  tender.  The  ties 
in  his  family  circle  were  often  broken,  yet  under  his  severest 
afflictions  he  is  said  to  have  exhibited  the  firmness  of  a  chris- 
tian resignation.  His  piety  was  of  that  kind,  which  the  Eng- 
lish church,  when  her  services  are  not  profaned  by  hypocritical 
ambition,  nor  her  ofifices  made  silken  cushions  for  the  repose 
erf  a  lukewarm  indifference,  is  adapted   to  foster — ^it  was 


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378  LowiWs  Hebrew  Poetry.  [Oct. 

rational  and  fervid.  Whatever  situations  he  was  called  to  fill, 
and  thejr  were  various,  he  was  always  scrupulously  attentive 
to  the  performance  of  his  duties.  It  was,  however,  in  his 
elevated  station  as  a  bishop,  that  his  admirable  qualities 
shone  most  conspicuously.  The  rare  union  of  deep  learn- 
ing, true  piety,  gentleness  of  manners,  modesty  and  dignity 
of  feeling,  fitted  him  to  adorn  his  office  in  a  pre-embent  de- 
gree. England  can  scarcely  show,  in  all  the  annals  of  her 
history,  a  dignitary  of  the  church,  whose  character  exhibited 
a  combination  in  all  respects  so  noble,  so  delightful.  Mild 
as  he  was,  he  had  a  manly,  energetic  and  independent 
mind,  properly  conscious  of  its  own  powers,  and  decided 
in  its  convictions.  Open  and  free  in  his  inquiries,  he  was 
fearless  in  the  declaration  of  all  his  opinions.  An  advocate 
himself  for  the  most  unrestrained  investigation  in  matters  of 
religion,  he  was  willing  to  extend  to  others  the  same  privileges 
he  demanded  as  his  own  birth-right.  He  had  that  liberality 
and  courtesy  of  mmd,  which  is  founded  in  real  benevolence 
of  feeling.  We  love  to  turn  from  the  intolerant  arrogance  of 
Warburton  and  Horsley,  to  the  freedom,  the  charity,  the  con- 
descension and  the  genuine  kindness  of  a  man,  who  demanded 
no  deference  to  his  own  opinions  merely  because  they  were 
his,  and  who  could  recognise  and  venerate  an  amiable  heart  and 
a  virtuous  life,  though  they  existed  m  combination  with  what  he 
thought  erroneous  opinions.  He  had  no  bigotry ;  his  firmness 
was  conciliating  as  well  as  steadfast ;  mild,  indeed,  and  devoid  of 
^bitterness,  but  much  more  likely  to  remain  unshaken,  than  that 
of  more  turbulent,  haughty,  domineerbg  prelates. 

Wherever  he  appeai-ed,  he  diffused  around  him  a  benign  in- 
fluence. In  his  countenance,  manners  and  whole  deportment, 
benevolence  was  united  with  dignity ;  a  union  which  made  his 
inferiors  unembarrassed  in  his  presence,  his  equals  familiar  and 
affectionate,  his  superiors  respectful  and  courteous.  His  own 
politeness,  though  it  had  all  the  elegance  of  courts,  was  not 
bom  there  ;  it  was  that  of  kindly  feelings,  chastened  and  not 
destroyed  in  the  collision  and  intercourse  of  society — ^the  po- 
liteness of  the  heart,  to  which  the  refinement  of  places  could 
add  nothing.  He  was  altogether  a  being  of  a  superior  order. 
But  his  intellectual  and  moral  nature  had  been  finely  disci- 
plined and  developed ;  and  neither  apparently  at  the  expense 
of  the  other.  His  rich  and  varied  attainments  as  a  classical 
scholar  gave  a  remarkable  elegance  to  his  mind,  and  his  soul 


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1830.]  LowtVs  Hebrew  Poetry.  379 

seemed  to  have  imbibed  in  no  small  degree  the  spirit  of  sim- 
plicity and  grandeur  belonging  to  the  sacred  literature,  which 
he  had  so  deeply  studied.  He  was,  indeed,  as  the  venerable 
Eichhorn  styled  him  in  a  heartfelt  tribute  to  his  memory,  a 
noble  Briton  ; — ^noble,  for  the  extent,  and  depth,  and  modesty 
of  his  learning,  for  his  dignified  independence  and  liberality  of 
mmd,  for  his  gentleness  of  mien  and  generosity  of  feeling,  and 
above  aU,  for  the  value  which  he  set  upon  the  noblest  preroga- 
tives of  his  being. 

His  name  is  one  of  those,  to  which  England  owes  much  of 
her  literary  glory,  without  acknowledgbg  from  whence  it  is 
derived.  Volumes  upon  volumes  have  been  lavished  upon 
memoirs  of  ordinary  men,  and  reviews  upon  reviews  have 
been  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  far  inferior  characters, 
while  that  of  Lowth,  than  whom  scarce  another  Englishman 
could  be  mentioned,  whose  name  is  more  venerated  on  the 
European  continent,  has  been  left  to  the  meagre  skeletons  of 
Cyclopedian  biographies,  or  to  such  a  clumsy  notice  of  his  life 
and  writings,  as  the  reader  may  chance  to  stumble  upon  in  the 
British  Nepos.  It  is  surprising  how  little  the  English  public, 
even  at  this  day,  when  antiquarian  and  literary  curiosity  are 
pushed  beyond  the  limits  of  useful  inquiry  in  almost  every  field 
that  can  be  imagined,  are  acquainted  with  the  character  and 
labors  of  this  admirable  man.  Do  we  err  in  supposing  that 
the  church  of  England  would  hardly  yet  have  discovered  the 
merit  of  his  Lectures  on  the  Hebrew  Poetry  had  not  Michaelis 
received  their  appearance  with  such  enthusiastic  congratula- 
tion, and  excited  his  own  countrymen  to  follow  on  in  the  path, 
which  he  had  opened  ?  As  it  is,  the  church  has  profited  by 
his  labors,  without  even  paying  to  his  character  the  tribute  of  a 
merited  applause.  He  sleeps  by  the  side  of  Selden,  another 
pillar  of  English  greatness,  in  the  same  comparative  obscurity 
and  neglect.  He  is  not  the  only  venerable  patriarch  of  Eng- 
lish literature,  upon  whose  ashes  they  that  are  younger  than 
he  have  arisen  to  unmerited  distinction.  Yet  it  is  not  even 
now  too  late,  and  we  could  wish  that  some  true  admirer  of  his 
character  and  genius  might  leave  for  a  while  the  task  of  settling 
the  text  of  Aristophanes,  or  writing  commentaries  on  Apollo- 
nius  Rhodius,  qr  making  a  book  for  the  Cabinet  Cyclopedia, 
and  set  himself  in  earnest  to  collect  the  memorials  that  are 
fast  passing  away,  and  exhibit  some  tolerable  record  of  his 
life,  some  worthy  delineation  of  his  merits  and  his  labors. 


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380  jLatme  Todd.  [Oct. 


Akt.  v.— Latme  Todd;  or.  The  Settlers  in  the  Woods.    By 
John  Galt,  Esq.     New  York.     1830. 

This  book  is  replete  with  profound  practical  wisdom,  con- 
veyed in  a  vigorous  and  massy  style.  This  is  a  high  character 
to  give  of  the  story  of  a  nail-maker,  who  is  finally  elevated  to 
the  rank  of  a  shop-keeper,  and  land-jobber  m  the  interior  of 
New  York ;  but  we  think  it  is,  nevertheless,  a  very  just  one, 
and  we  are  the  more  pleased  with  the  author,  for  the  reason 
that  he  can,  without  the  help  of  moving  incidents  by  sea  or 
land,  or  the  pageantry  of  fashion  or  rank,  but  bv  merely  follow- 
ing an  every-day  character  through  a  series  ol  every-day  for- 
tunes, with  only  here  and  there  a  slight  stretch  of  probability, 
invest  with  a  moral  and  philosophical  dignity,  and  a  poetical 
interest,  the  passions,  motives,  interests  and  endeavors,  that 
from  day  to  day  move  and  trouble  the  veritable  world.  Fic- 
tions so  written  are  more  true  than  history,  and  no  less  instruc- 
tive than  experience,  and  it  b  only  to  the  least  reflecting  minds, 
that  they  are  dry  and  barren ;  to  such  minds,  as  to  those  of 
children  and  uncivilbed  men,  purple  robes,  burnished  armor, 
gorgeous  pageants,  and  showers  of  diamonds  and  pearls,  are  sub- 
jects of  a  more  lively  admiration.  These  toys  excite  the  ima- 
ginations of  the  frivolous,  who  do  not  perceive  that  the  lily,  in  its 
array  of  beauty,  surpasses  the  glory  of  Solomon.  Rank,  power, 
and  wealth,  like  dress,  are  something  exterior  and  incidental 
to  the  man,  whose  mind,  manners,  sentiments,  passions,  and 
moral  qualities,  are,  after  all,  the  true  and  worthy  objects  of 
a  generous  interest ;  and  whether  they  are  exhibited  in  a  high 
or  humble  station,  are  still  a  part  of  that  human  nature, 
which  concentrates  all  that  is  permanendy  interesting  in  this 
world.  In  a  story,  therefore,  whether  it  be  history  or  fiction, 
whether  the  purpose  be  entertainment  or  instruction,  the  mate- 
rial question  is,  not  how  fashionable,  rich,  or  powerful  are  the 
actors,  or  how  much  space  they  fill  in  the  world,  but  what  are 
their  qualities  and  characteristics. 

Mr.  Gait  has  a  way  of  conductmg  his  plot,  peculiar 
to  himself,  or  rather  he  has  no  plot  at  all,  for  there  is,  in 
his  stories,  no  concentration  of  action  and  incident  to  any 
particular  consummation,  at  which  the  interest  terminates. 
The  reader  is  not  borne  along  and  absorbed  by  a  continually 
increasing  curiosity  and  anxiety,  that  put  him  upon  the  rack. 


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183a.]  Lamie  Todd.  381 

until  he  is  reprieved  by  the  happy  turn  of  things,  or  knows  the 
worst,  and  acquiesces  in  the  decrees  of  destiny,  as  recorded  by 
his  author,  with  a  becoming  resignation.  Mr.  Gait's  scenes, 
though  more  or  less  blended,  are  by  no  means  woven  together  in 
one  series  of  action,  with  a  uniform  tendency,  disguised  until 
the  denouement  explains  all;  but  they  are  detached,  in  a 
great  degree,  in  interest,  and  in  the  main  are  not  Imked  as 
causes  and  consequences.  The  principal  connexion  in  the 
incidents  consists  in  their  happening  to  the  same  persons.  We 
do  not  mention  this  as  a  material  defect  in  his  stories,  not  as 
indicating  any  want  of  talent  in  the  author ;  for  of  all  the  causes 
of  interest  in  a  tale,  the  mere  curiosity  to  know  the  end  is  the 
most  ordinary  and  superficial,  and  it  is  quite  a  subordinate 
achievement  of  genius  to  accumulate  obstacles,  and  carry 
the  actors  further  and  further  from  the  haven,  until  by  a  lucky 
change  of  the  wind,  they  make  the  port  under  full  sail.  It 
is  one  of  the  surest  indications  of  talent,  to  be  able  to  keep 
up  the  reader's  excitement,  without  distressing  him  with  too 
great  an  anxiety  about  the  catastrophe.  A  journey  is  more  in- 
teresting when  the  way  is  beguiled  by  successive  incidents, 
which  commence  and  end  independently  of  each  otiier,  than 
when  all  the  hopes  and  fears,  pleasures  and  pains,  relate  to 
the  accommodations  of  the  inn  at  which  it  terminates.  Mr. 
Cralt's  stories  are  remarkable  for  the  thickly-crowding  inci- 
dents, the  prominent  and  striking  characteristics  of  the  person- 
ages, the  reality  of  the  sentiments,  and  the  force,  and  occa- 
sionally pathos  of  the  style.  His  reflections  are  usually  just, 
and  his  thoughts  often  original,  with  an  uninterrupted  fa- 
cility and  buoyancy  in  the  progress  of  the  story,  but  not  with- 
out occasional  freedom  in  the  language  and  incidents,  a  little 
alarming  to  fastidious  readers ;  fc^*  the  author  seems  to  be  by 
no  means  inclined  to  balk  his  narrative,  or  to  suppress  a  good 
thing  from  excessive  scrupulousness. 

Mr.  Gait  professes  to  write  this  story  for  instruction,  no 
less  than  amusement ;  it  being,  as  he  says,  a  shadowy  and  sub- 
dued outline  of  the  history-  and  localities  of  Rochester,  in 
New-York;  and  he  remarks  in  his  introduction,  that  *d  de- 
scription^ which  may  be  considered  authentic,  of  the  rise  and 
progress  of  a  successful  American  settlement,  cannot  but  be 
useful  to  the  emigrant,  who  is  driven  to  seek  a  home  in  the 
unknown  wilderness  of  the  woods.'  The  emigrant,  in  this 
case,  is  the  son  of  a  poor,  but  industrious  Scotchmanf,  of  Bon- 

voL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  49 


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Launie  Todd.  [Oct. 

nytown,  *who,  with  hard  lahor,  constancy,  and  the  fear  of 
God,  followed  the  trade  of  a  nail-maker ;  a  presbyterian  of  the 
old  leaven  of  the  covenant.'  Lawrie,  his  son,  began  existence 
with  very  slender  promise  of  its  blessings,  being  long  sickly 
and  crippled,  from  neglect  in  his  infancy.  By  virtue, 
principally,  of  sunshine  and  exercise,  for  his  diet  seems  to 
have  been  very  scanty,  he  at  length  became  a  brisk  nail-maker, 
and  a  sturdy,  though  ti^ee  debater  in  the  republican  society  of 
some  dozen  and  a  half  boys,  who  proposed  to  introduce  the 
French  revolution  into  Scotland.  Lawrie  professes  to  have 
been  an  eloquent  spouter,  with  the  prospect  of  becoming  a 
finished  orator  in  this  patriotic  body,  when  the  officers  of  jus- 
tice put  an  end  to  all  their  bright  visions  of  parliamentary  re- 
form, and  the  restoration  of  the  unalienable  rights  of  man,  by 
marching  them  off  to  Edinburgh.  Our  young  reformer's  pa- 
triotic exultation  was  not  at  all  heightened  by  the  exclamation 
of  an  ol^  woman,  as  he  was,  with  the  rest,  paraded  along  the 
streets  of  the  city,  '  Losh  preserve 's !  But  the  king  maun  be  a 
coward,  if  he 's  frightened  for  sic  a  modiwart,'  (meadow-mole.) 
He  had  the  good  fortune  to  escape  from  this  peril  of  life  and 
limb,  after  being  complimented  by  the  king's  advocate  with 
the  appellation  of '  ragged  scarecrow,'  and  he  survived  to  serve 
his  country  again  in  the  manufacture  of  wrought  nails. 

Having  arrived  at  the  momentous  period  of  life,  which  trans- 
forms boys  into  men,  he  and  his  brother  took  passage  for 
America  in  the  good  ship  Providence^  then  lying  at  the  port  of 
Leith,  having  for  outfits  a  chest  of  things,  their  father's  bless- 
ing, and  twenty  shillings  apiece.  Thus,  exceptmg  Scotland, 
which  they  left  behmd,  they  had  the  world  all  before  them, 
where  to  choose  their  place,  not  of  rest,  but  of  labor  in  nail- 
making;  but,  4ike  Adam  and  Eve,  when  driven  out  of  the 
garden  of  Eden,  they  had  Providence  for  their  guide,  as  that 
solemn-sounding  gong  of  the  (xospel,  John  Milton,  bears  testi- 
mony.' On  coming  to  anchor  in  die  harbor  of  New  York,  on 
the  16th  of  June,  A.  D.  1794,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing, with  three  shillings  and  sixpence  of  their  patrimonial  out- 
fit remaining,  they  began  to  collect  information  respect mg  the 
business  of  nail-making  in  the  new  world ;  but  dieir  hearts 
were  '  struck  with  a  snow-ball,'  when  they  were  told '  that  a  ma- 
chine for  cutting  nails  out  of  iron  hoops  had  been  recently  set 
up,  by  which  the  Americans  were  of  opinion  they  would  soon 
have  the  supplying  of  the  whole  world  with  nails.'  Their  spirits 


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1830.]  LMwrie  Todd.  388 

were  cheered  up,  however,  by  proposals  for  employment,  one 
of  which  they  accepted,  and  they  soon  found  themselves  ham- 
mering their  way  in  the  world  with  great  activity. 

Our  young  hero,  and  his  Fidus  Achates,  proceeded  very 
prosperously  in  their  vocation  in  the  nail-making  line,  until 
one  morning  Lawrie  met  in  the  street  a  young  lady  '  about 
five  feet  seven  inches'  high,  with  '  a  pale  face,  erect  carriage, 
slow  solenm  step,  in  a  small  black  beaver-hat,  with  two 
cords  on  each  side  to  turn  up  the  brim  enough  to  show 
her  ears,  and  long  flaxen  hair ;'  to  wit,  the  future  Mrs.  Todd  } 
so  that  what  with  nail-making  a-nights,  tending  a  small  gro- 
cery by  day,  and  courtship  into  the  bargain,  Lawrie  had 
business  enough  on  his  hands;  two  branches  of  whichj 
however,  he  proposed  to  merge  in  matrimony ;  namely,  the 
courtship  and  the  retailing,  which  latter  was  to  be  transferred 
to  Miss  Rebecca,  after  her  transformation  into  Mrs.  Todd. 
The  ceremony  of  her  baptism  is  very  weD  described. 

'  When  I  beheld  her  tall,  slender,  and  erect  form,  with  slow 
and  measured  steps,  move  up  the  middle  aisle,  dressed  in  a  white 
robe  in  maidenly  simplicity  ;  when  I  saw  her  stand  serene  in  the 
midst  of  a  vast  congregation,  and  give  the  regular  tokens  of  as- 
sent to  the  vows  which  Dr.  Mason,  in  a  solemn  and  affecting 
voice,  laid  upon  her,  while  all  the  congregation  seemed  hushed  in 
the  stillness  of  death ;  when  I  saw  her  untie  the  black  ribbon 
under  her  chin  that  held  on  her  hat,  whilst  the  minister  was  de- 
scending from  the  pulpit  to  administer  the  ordinance ;  when  I 
saw  her  hands  hanging  straight  by  her  sides,  one  holding  her  hat, 
and  the  other  a  white  handkerchief;  when  I  saw  her  turn  up  her 
face  to  Heaven,  and  calmly  close  her  eyes  as  the  minister  pre- 
pared to  pour  the  consecrated  symbol  of  grace ;  and  when  I  saw 
her  wipe  the  pearly  drops,  I  thought  that  her  gentle  countenance 
shone  as  with  a  glorious  transfiguration,  and  I  swore  in  my  heart, 
that  with  the  help  of  the  Lord,  nothing  but  death  should  part 
us.'     p.  33. 

The  author  gives  his  principal  character  very  deep  re- 
ligious impressions;  he  is  devoudy  persuaded  that  all  his 
fortune,  particularly  his  adversities,  are  especially  ordered 
for  his  good ;  and  much  interest  and  beauty  are  given  to  this 
part  of  the  story,  by  tinging  the  clouds  of  misfortune  with  the 
rays  of  religion.  The  prevalence  of  the  yellow  fever,  and  the 
death  of  Rebecca  after  the  birth  of  a  son,  give  occasion  for  the 
display  of  his  deep  moral  sentiments  and  strong  religious  faith, 


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884  Lawrie  Todd.  [Oet 

ivbich  are  mamlained  through  the  book,  and  at  the  same  time 
blended  with  sufficient  temporal  sagacity.  The  author  shows  an 
intimate  observation  of  human  nature,  in  exemplifying  in  his  pria- 
cipal  character,  how  strong  and  sincere  religious  opinions  and 
sentiments  may  be  unconsciously  modified  and  accommodated 
to  the  circumstances  and  interests  of  the  person,  by  whom  they 
are  entertained. 

A  personage  is  next  introduced,  upon  whom  the  author  seems 
to  have  bestowed  some  pains,  namely,  Mr.  Zerobabel  L.  Hos- 
kins,  who  was  ^  in  his  way,  something  of  a  Yankee  oddity.' 
The  general  conception  of  this  character  is  a  litde  out  of  the 
common  course,  but  he  is  ably  sustained  tlirough  the  story,  and 
though  a  caricature,  is  not  so  unlike  any  man  that  ever  lived  in 
this  world,  as  to  be  entirely  a  figment  of  the  author's  brain. 
Having  accidentally  formed  an  acquaintance  with  our  hero, 
Zerobabel  politely  proposes  to  supply  the  place  of  the  deceased 
Rebecca  by  giving  him  in  second  nuptials  his  niece  Judith ;  and 
after  some  amicable  negotiations,  the  arrangement  takes  effect. 
We  are  afterwards  carried  through  the  adventures  of  the  grocery 
business,  the  seed  business,  and  the  Jersey  farm,  to  the  catas- 
trophe of  Lawrie's  concerns  in  New-York  during  the  em- 
bargo and  non-intercourse,  when  he  is  entirely  ruined,  and 
obliged  to  surrender  at  discretion  to  his  creditors.  His  uncle 
Hoskins  generously  comes  to  his  aid  at  this  crisis,  and  supplies 
him  with  the  means  of  beginning  the  world  again. 

He  now  proceeds  to  the  new  settlements,  to  which  his  atten- 
tion was  called  by  Mrs.  Micklethrift,  on  board  a  North  River 
steam-boat,  who  gave  him  much  good  advice  in  regard  to  emi- 
gration, particularly  recommending  to  emigrants  not  to  encum- 
ber themselves  with  chests  of  drawers  and  other  cumbrous  ar- 
ticles of  furniture  in  their  migration  into  the  wilderness,  Ac- 
coi^dingly  we  soon  find  Lawrie  lodged  in  the  forest,  fifteen 
miles  from  the  nearest  settlement,  and,  as  we  are  to  suppose 
firom  the  preface,  somewhere  about  the  region  of  the  present 
town  of  Rochester.  This  new  settlement,  being  the  nearest 
approach  yet  made  by  civilization  towards  their  proposed  *  loca- 
tion,* might,  it  seems  to  us,  be  the  subject  of  a  more  graphic  and 
distincdy  colored  description,  than  that  given  by  the  author. 

*  Of  all  the  sights  in  this  world  the  most  likely  to  daunt  a  stout 
hearty  and  to  infect  a  resolute  spirit  with  despondency,  that  of  a 
newly-chopped  tract  of  the  forest  certainly  bears  away  the  bell. 
Hundreds  on  hundreds  of  vast  and  ponderous  trees  covering  the 


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1890.]  Lawrie  Todd.  385 

ground  for  acres,  like  the  mighty  slain  in  a  field  of  battle,  all  to 
be  removed,  yea,  obliterated,  before  the  solitary  settler  can  raise 
a  meal  of  potatoes,  seemingly  offer  the  most  hopeless  task  which 
the  industry  of  man  can  struggle  with.  My  heart  withered  as  I 
contemplated  the  scene,  and  my  two  little  boys  came  close  to  me, 
and  inquired  with  the  low  accents  of  anxiety  and  dread,  if  the 
moving  of  these  enormous  things  was  to  be  our  work.  Fortu- 
nately, before  I  had  time  to  answer  their  question,  a  sudden  turn 
of  the  road  brought  us  in  sight  of  the  village,  where  the  settlers 
in  all  directions  were  busy  logging  and  burning.  The  liveliness 
of  this  spectacle,  the  blazing  of  the  timber,  and  the  rapid  des^ 
truction  of  the  trees,  rendered,  indeed,  any  answer  unnecessary. 
They  beheld  at  once,  that  so  far  from  the  work  being  hopeless, 
the  ground  was  laid  open  for  tillage  even,  as~it  were,  while  we 
were  looking  at  it,  and  we  entered  Babelmandel  reassured  in  all 
our  hopes. 

*  The  village  as  yet  consisted  but  of  shanties  and  log-houses. 
The  former  is  a  hut  or  wigwam,  made  of  bark  laid  upon  the 
skeleton  of  a  rude  roof,  and  is  open  commonly  on  the  one  side, 
nigh  to  which,  during  the  night,  the  inmates  who  sleep  within, 
raise  a  great  fire  to  keep  themselves  warm ;  some  say  to  protect 
them  from  wolves  and  other  wild  beasts.  Notwithstanding  the 
rough  appearance  of  the  shanty,  it  yet  affords  a  shelter  with 
which  weary  axemen  are  well  content.  I  never,  however,  had  a 
right  solid  sound  sleep  in  one,  for,  as  they  are  open,  I  had  a  con- 
stant fear  of  snakes  crawling  in  upon  me  ;  nor  was  it  imaginary, 
for  that  very  night,  the  first  we  passed  in  Babelmandel,  the  boys 
and  I  being  obliged  to  make  our  bed  on  hemlock  boughs  in  a 
shanty,  had  not  well  composed  ourselves  to  rest,  when  Charley, 
the  youngest,  felt  something  like  a  man's  finger  wimbling  in  un- 
der his  neck,  and  starting  up,  beheld  a  large  garter  snake  twists 
ing  and  twining  where  he  had  made  his  pillow.  We  were  pacified 
in  our  alarm,  by  an  assurance  that  it  was  of  a  harmless  kind,  but 
truly  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  I  am  satisfied  that  any  serpent 
can  ever  be  a  conmiendable  bed-fellow.'    pp.  82,  83. 

Our  emigrant,  having  penetrated  into  the  woods  with  his 
two  boys,  erected  a  cabin  on  a  rising  ground  near  the  mar- 
gb  of  a  river,  and  within  a  short  distance  from  a  shanty,  oo- 
cupied  by  a  number  of  backwoodsmen,  who  had  embarked  in 
the  same  enterprise.  Having  thus  got  a  substitute  for  a  house 
over  his  head,  and  kindled  a  fire,  Lawrie  began  to  have  a  fore- 
taste of  a  very  comfortable  night ;  but  ^ 

*  About  three  o'clock  the  skies  were  dreadfully  darkened  and 
overcast.     I  had  never  seen  such  darkness  while  the  sun  was 


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386  Lawrie  Todd.  [Oct. 

above  the  horizon,  and*  still  the  rain  continued  to  descend  in 
cataracts,  but  at  fits  and  intervals.  No  man  who  had  not  seen 
the  like,  would  credit  the  description. 

*  Suddenly,  a  sharp  flash  of  lightning,  followed  by  an  instanta- 
neous thunder-peal,  lightened  up  all  the  forest ;  and  almost  in  the 
same  moment  the  rain  came  lavishing  along  as  if  the  windows  of 
heaven  were  opened  ;  anon,  another  flash  and  a  louder  peal  burst 
upon  us,  as  if  the  whole  forest  was  rending  over  and  around  us. 

*  I  drew  my  helpless  and  poor  trembling  little  boys  under  the 
skirts  of  my  great  coat. 

'  Then  there  was  another  frantic  flash,  and  the  roar  of  the 
thunder  was  augmented  by  the  riven  trees,  that  fell  cloven  on  all 
sides  in  a  whirlwind  of  splinters.  But  though  the  lightning  was 
more  terrible  than  scimitars,  and  the  thunder  roared  as  if  the 
vaults  of  heaven  were  shaken  to  pieces  and  tumbling  in,  the 
irresistible  rain  was  still  more  appalling  than  either.  I  have  said 
it  was  as  if  the  windows  of  heaven  were  opened.  About  sunset, 
the  ground  floods  were  as  if  the  fountains  of  the  great  deep  were 
breaking  up. 

'  I  pressed  my  shivering  children  to  my  bosom,  but  I  could  not 
speak.  At  the  common  shanty,  where  there  had  been  for  some 
time  an  affectation  of  mirth  and  ribaldry,  there  was  now  silence  ; 
at  last,  as  if  with  one  accord,  all  the  inhabitants  rushed  from  be- 
low their  miserable  shed,  tore  it  into  pieces,  and  ran  with  the 
fragments  to  a  higher  ground,  crying  wildly,  "  The  river  is 
rising !" 

*  I  had  seen  it  swelling  for  some  time,  but  our  shanty  stood  so 
far  above  the  stream,  that  I  had  no  fear  it  would  reach  us. 
Scarcely,  however,  had  the  axemen  escaped  from  theirs,  and 
planted  themselves  on  the  crown  of  the  rising  ground  nearer  to 
us,  where  they  were  hastily  constructing  another  shed,  when  a 
tremendous  crash  and  roar  was  heard  at  some  distance  in  the 
woods,  higher  up  the  stream.  It  was  so  awful,  I  had  almost  said 
so  omnipotent,  in  the  sound,  that  I  started  on  my  feet,  and  shook 
my  treasures  from  me.  For  a  moment  the  Niagara  of  the  river 
seemed  almost  to  pause — it  was  but  for  a  moment,  for  instantly 
afler,  the  noise  of  the  rending  of  mighty  trees,  the  crashing  and 
the  tearing  of  the  uprooted  forest,  rose  around.  The  waters  of 
the  river,  troubled  and  raging,  came  hurling  with  the  wreck  of 
the  woods,  sweeping  with  inconceivable  fury,  every  thing  that 
stood  within  its  scope — ^a  lake  had  burst  its  banks. 

*  The  sudden  rise  of  the  water,  soon,  however,  subsided ;  I 
saw  it  ebbing  fast,  and  comforted  my  terrified  boys.  The  rain 
also  began  to  abate.  Instead  of  those  dreadful  sheets  of  waves 
which  fell  upon  us,  as  if  some  vast  ocean  behind  the  forest  was 


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1830.]  Lawrie  Todd.  387 

heaving  over  its  spray,  a  thick,  continued  small  rain  came  on, 
and  ab^ut  an  hour  after  sunset,  streaks  and  breaks  in  the  clouds 
gave  some  token  that  the  worst  was  over — it  was  not,  however, 
so ;  for  about  the  same  time  a  stream  appeared  in  the  hollow  be- 
tween the  rising  ground  to  which  the  axemen  had  retired,  and 
the  little  knoll  on  which  our  shanty  stood  ;  at  the  same  time  the 
waters  in  the  river  began  to  swell  again.  There  was  on  this  oc- 
casion no  abrupt  and  bursting  noise,  but  the  night  was  fast  clos- 
ing upon  us,  and  a  hoarse  muttering  and  angry  sound  of  many 
waters  grew  louder  and  louder  on  all  sides. 

'  The  darkness,  and  the  increasing  rage  of  the  river,  which 
there  was  just  twilight  enough  to  show  was  rising  above  the  brim 
of  the  bank,  smote  me  with  inexpressible  terror.  I  snatched  my 
children  by  the  hand,  and  rushed  forward  to  join  the  axemen, 
but  the  torrent  between  us  rolled  so  violently,  that  to  pass  was 
impossible,  and  the  waters  still  continued  to  rise. 

*  I  called  aloud  to  the  axemen  for  assistance ;  and  when  they 
heard  my  desperate  cries,  they  came  out  of  the  shed,  some  with 
burning  brands,  and  others  with  their  axes  glittering  in  the 
flames  ;  but  they  could  render  no  help  :  at  last,  one  man,  a  fear- 
less back-woodsman,  happened  to  observe  by  the  fire-light  a 
tree  on  the  bank  of  the  torrent,  which  it  in  some  degree  over- 
hung, and  he  called  for  others  to  join  him  in  making  a  bridge. 
In  the  course  of  a  few  minutes  the  tree  was  laid  across  the 
stream,  and  we  scrambled  over,  just  as  the  river  extinguished  our 
fire,  and  swept  our  shanty  away. 

*  This  rescue  was  in  itself  so  wonderful,  and  the  scene  had 
been  so  terrible,  that  it  was  some  time  after  we  were  safe,  before 
I  could  rouse  myself  to  believe  I  was  not  in  the  fangs  of  a  night- 
mare. My  poor  boys  clung  to  me  as  if  still  not  assured  of  their 
security,  and  I  wept  upon  their  necks  in  the  ecstacy  of  an  un- 
speakable passion  of  anguish  and  joy.*     pp.  86,  87. 

The  truth  of  this  description  is  but  too  well  attested  by  the 
details  given  in  the  public  prints  of  the  recent  disasters  of  a 
similar  kind  in  Vermont.  Having  escaped  this  danger  by  flood, 
and  made  preparations  for  the  commg  winter,  the  settlers  of 
Babelmandel — for  this  was  the  name  of  the  new  settlement — 
were  in  danger  of  a  blight  of  all  their  fair  hopes,  by  the  no  less 
destructive  element  of  fire.  Lawrie  Todd  had  just  constructed 
his  house,  and  brought  his  wife  and  children  to  participate  in 
the  privations  and  hardships  and  hopes  of  the  back-woods. 
While  they  were  in  the  act  of  celebrating  this  event  in  their  do- 
mestic devotions, 


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388  Latorie  Todd.  [Oct 

'  A  sharp,  shrill  shriek,  wild  and  piercing,  came  from  the  Til- 
lage ;  imputing  it  to  some  frolic  among  the  younger  settlers,  I 
heeded  it  not ;  it  disturbed  not  the  earnestness  of  our  devotion. 
In  less  than  a  minute  after,  a  similar  cry  was  repeated,  and 
caused  me  to  pause  in  prayer.  This  was  followed  by  a  terrible 
hissing,  hurrying,  and  crackling  noise,  something  like  the  rush* 
ing  sound  of  many  sky-rockets,  but  immeasurably  greater,  fol- 
lowed by  a  hundred  vehement  voices,  screaming  "  fire  !"  Start- 
ing from  my  kneeling,  I  ran  to  the  door  in  alarm,  scarce  con- 
ceiving what  the  cry  of  fire  in  the  wilderness  could  portend. 

*  The  woods  were  on  fire !  The  scene  of  horror  was  at  some 
distance  behind  the  house,  but  the  remorseless  element  was  ris- 
ing and  wreathing  in  smoke  and  fiame  on  all  sides.  The  pro- 
gress was  as  a  furious  whirlwind ;  to  arrest,  or  to  extinguish, 
seemed  equally  impossible. 

*  The  unfortunate  settlers  were  flying  in  all  directions  with 
their  moveables  ;  but  the  fallen  leaves,  kindled  by  the  fiery  flakes 
that  fell  showering  arouhd,  intercepted  their  flight,  and  obliged 
many  to  abandon  their  burdens ;  for,  as  with  the  Egyptian  hail, 
fire  ran  along  the  ground  :  sometimes  the  flames  ascended  with 
a  spiral  sweep  at  once  from  the  roots  to  the  topmost  boughs  of 
the  loftiest  trees ;  at  others  they  bui;st  out  in  the  highest  branches 
at  a  distance  from  the  general  burning,  as  if  some  invisible  in- 
cendiary was  propagating  the  destruction.  Aged  trunks  of  hol- 
low elms  and  oaks  took  fire  within,  and  blazed  out  like  fountains 
of  flame  ;  and  all  around  the  sound,  like  the  rage  of  a  hurricane 
and  the  roaring  of  seas  upon  a  shallow  shore,  grew  louder  and 
louder.'     ^,  94,  95. 

The  settlement,  however,  in  consequence  of  a  change  of 
wind,  escaped  the  danger,  and  the  settlers  were  benefited,  in- 
stead of  being  injured,  by  the  conflagration,  which  assisted 
them  to  clear  away  the  forest,  and  bring  their  lands  into  culti- 
vation ;  though  Lawrie  was  less  fortunate  than  the  others,  in 
one  respect,  for  his  new  framed  house  caught  fire  and  was 
consumed.  But  he  plucked  up  courage,  and,  with  the  help  of 
his  neighbors,  built  another,  in  which  he  was  enabled,  after  all, 
to  keep  the  winter  at  bay. 

The  next  disaster  was  a  domestic  affliction,  which  he 
learned  on  returning  home  from  the  neighboring  settlement  of 
Olympus. 

*  As  we  approached  the  shanty,  I  discovered  a  light,  which  did 
not  surprise,  but  it  grieved  me,  for  I  augured  from  it  that  the 
child's  sufferings  had  not  been  mitigated.     As  we,  however, 


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1830.]  Latvrie  Todd.  389 

drew  near,  I  saw  it  was  a  short  distance  from  the  shanty,  under 
a  large  elm,  which  then  stood  near  the  spot  where  the  rivulet 
falls  into  the  river,  and  that  there  was  no  one  in  the  shanty  hut 
Rohin,  with  his  arm  under  his  head,  asleep ;  to  which,  poor  lad, 
he  had,  no  douht,  heen  soundly  invited  hy  his  day's  hard  labor. 

'  The  candle  was  burning  in  a  niche,  scooped  for  the  purpose, 
in  the  trunk  of  the  elm,  and  between  us  and  it  I  discerned  a 
small  rude  shed,  covered  with  bark,  forming  a  canopy  over  a  lit- 
tle bed  covered  with  a  white  towel.  My  child  was  dead,  and  her 
mother,  with  the  other  two  sorrowful  girls,  were  sitting  in  the 
shadow  of  the  tree,  watching  the  corpse,  and  wearying  for  my 
return. 

'  As  I  came  close  up  to  them,  two  men,  armed  with  guns, 
came  from  behind  the  tree.  Amidab  Peters  was  one,  and  a  set- 
tler, whom  I  did  not  know,  the  other.  Afler  speaking  a  few 
words  of  condolence  to  my  wife,  I  expressed  my  surprise  to 
Amidab  at  seeing  him  there  at  that  time  of  night  and  armed, 
thanking  both  him  and  his  companion  for  their  attention,  and 
saying  I  would  watch  thp  remainder  of  the  night  myself 

*  "  But  one,"  said  Amidab,  "  is  not  sufficient ;  it  will  require 
two,  for  we  have  already  been  twice  scared." 

'  "  Scared  I"  cried  I,  "  by  what  ?  who  have  we  to  fear  V* 

*  "  The  wolves,"  replied  the  stranger,  "  they  scent  the  dead 
afar  off.  We  had  not  been  here  more  than  ten  minutes,  when 
one  looked  at  us  from  the  other  side  of  the  rivulet ;  we  saw  him 
plainly  in  the  moonshine,  and  scarcely  had  we  frightened  him 
off,  when  we  heard  another  howling  from  the  opposite  bank  of 
the  river."  '     pp.  98,  99. 

We  pass  over  the  installation  of  the  schoolmaster,  Herbert 
(a  well-Imagined  and  well-sustained  character),  Lawrie's  being 
lost  in  the  woods,  and  other  incidents  in  the  progress  of  the 
village,  and  hasten  forward  to  meet  our  old  friend,  Hoskins ; 
who  is  by  this  time  on  a  visit  at  Babelmandel  for  the  winter, 
during  which  a  bear  also  makes  a  visit  to  his  new  neighbors, 
and  is  very  near  making  an  end  of  Hoskins,  and  ruining  the 
whole  plot  of  the  story ;  but,  as  it  happens,  the  story  is  the  bet- 
ter for  the  adventure,  and  Hoskins,  though  a  little  the  worse 
for  too  hear^  an  embrace  of  the  new  visitor,  yet,  by  the  help 
of  his  good  fortune  and  Lawrie  Todd,  armed  with  an  axe,  gets 
off  without  any  mortal  hurt,  and  claims  the  bear's  skin  as  bis 
trophy. 

An  arrangement  is  now  made  between  the  uncle  and 
nephew  for  opening  a  shop  in  common,  and  afiairs  at  Babel- 
mandel begin  to  wear  a  prombing  aspect.     Those  of  the  story 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  60 


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Lavfrie  Todd.  [Oct 

are  no  less  prosperous,  for  it  gains  an  accessbn  of  two  new 
characters,  lo  Mr.  BaUlie  Waft,  the  perpetual  tormentor,  in  a 
small  way,  of  Mr.  Todd,  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  and  Mr. 
Bell,  the  minister,  a  powerful  preacher,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
a  gloon^  roan,  of  fierce  passions,  which  finally  degenerate  into 
a  perverse  and  wicked  insanity.  Each  of  them  is  out  of  the 
common  course,  original  and  striking,  and  they  are  both  in 
general  very  well  managed,  and  contribute  materially  to  the 
interest  of  the  story ;  to  which  we  must  refer  our  readers  for  a 
more  particular  acquabtance  with  diem,  as  we  have  only  room 
to  notice  in  detail  the  adventures  of  the  leading  personage. 

The  afiaii*s  of  the  shop  being  put  in  train,  the  stirring,  ad^ 
venturous  old  uncle  began  to  range  about  the  forest  day  after 
day.  ^Can  the  old  gentleman  be  looking  for  a  gold  mine  ?' 
said  Mr.  Todd  to  himself.  At  length  a  pleasure  party  of  the 
men,  women,  and  children  down  the  river  is  projected,  and  a 
canoe  is  shaped  and  hollowed  from  the  trunk  of  a  large  tree 
for  the  purpose.  But  the  excursion,  as  often  happens  in  simi- 
lar cases,  proved  any  thing  but  a  party  of  pleasure  to  Lawrie, 
who  was  haunted  during  the  whole  day  with  the  portentous 
import  of  a  dream  of  Baillie  Waft,  of  which  he  knew  nothing, 
excepting  that  the  Baillie  had  had  a  dream.  '  I  have  had  a 
dream,'  said  the  Baillie,  as  the  canoe  pushed  off  fi-om  the 
bank,  to  which  Lawrie  gave  Uttle  heed,  but  the  canoe  no 
sooner  began  to  descend  the  current,  and  the  delights  of  the  ex- 
cursion along  the  winding  and  gloomily  shaded  channel  to  com- 
mence, than  '  I  have  had  a  dream,'  echoed  to  his  sensorium. 
What  could  it  be  ?  Something  ominous  certainly ;  and  he  had 
half  a  mind  to  paddle  back  his  bark  to  unfold  the  mystery,  and 
learn  with  what  dire  fates  it  was  freighted ;  but  the  current 
had  by  this  time  borne  him  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of  the 
ominous  prophet,  and  he  was  now  too  far  drawn  into  the  vor- 
tex of  his  destiny  to  recover  himself.  He  must  push  for- 
ward and  learn  tlie  dreadful  secret  by  experience,  widi  ^  J  have 
had  a  dream^^  ringing  in  his  ears,  during  the  melancholy  inter- 
vals of  his  party  of  pleasure. 

And  the  BaiUie's  dream  was  to  some  purpose,  for  they  had 
scarcely  proceeded  thirty  miles  m  their  swift  career  of  delight, 
under  the  ^  boundless  contiguity  of  shade,'  when  the  steep 
rocky  banks  on  either  side  began  to  pass  by  diem,  up-stream, 
with  a  quiet  and  quick  rapidity,  and  the  canoe  seemed  to  be 
seekmg  the  goal  of  its  course  by  the  irreasdble  impulse  of 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830J  Lawrie  Tf^fd.  39t 

some  mjsterioiis  iostinct.  They  had  glided  a  short  time  with 
this  facile  celerity,  when  the  deep-rolling  thunder  of  the  cata- 
ract below  iDterfureted  the  Bailiie's  dream,  and  revealed  to 
them  their  fate.  They  could  not  resist  the  current,  and  by 
veering  towards  either  side,  they  would  only  reach  a  steep  im- 
practicable bank.  There  is,  however,  a  ray  of  hope,  for 
Lawrie  has,  at  this  crisis,  but  just  got  past  the  middle  of  the 
first  volume ;  they  might  else  have  gone  over  the  falls.  The 
destiny  of  the  story  predominated  over  the  boding  of  Baillie 
Waft's  dream,  in  this  way :  the  stream,  which  seemed  to  be 
made  for  their  destruction,  had  been  long  undermining  a  tree 
on  the  nearer  bank,  at  some  distance  below,  which,  very  op- 
portunely for  them,  just  then  gently  swayed  over  into  the  cur^ 
rent,  still  hanging  by  the  roots,  on  which  they  had  hardly  ei^ 
caped  to  terra  frma^  when  both  the  tree  and  the  canoe  werii 
whirled  away  in  the  swift  destruction,  which  had  been  all  but 
prepared  for  themselves. 

In  the  course  of  this  adventurous  expedition  they  discover 
ao  admirable  situation  for  a  new  town  and  determine  to  found 
a  settlement  upon  it.  Their  plans  are,  however,  suspended 
for  a  short  time  by  the  sickness  and  decease  of  Lawrie  s  wife, 
which  gives  occasion  to  one  of  the  best  wrought  scenes  in  the 
book. 

*  The  fever  continued  to  rise,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth 
day  after  the  departure  of  Charles  and  Mrs.  Hoskins,  Dr.  Phials, 
the  medical  man,  warned  me  to  look  for  the  worst.  Although  I 
bad  watched  the  progress  of  the  calamity  with  an  apprehensive 
heart  and  an  eager  eye,  I  was  yet  greatly  shocked  at  hearing 
this,  and  spoke  to  her  uncle  about  getting  the  family  brought  to 
see  her ;  but  he  would  not  hear  of  it,  because  of  its  uselessness, 
and  the  expense.  He  was  a  man  that  had  more  consideration 
fbr  the  common  sense  of  matters  and  things,  than  for  delicate 
sensibilities.  But  for  all  that  he  had  a  sterling  heart,  and  did 
every  thing  in  his  power  to  lighten  my  anxiety. 

'  '*  I  ain't,"  said  he,  "  slick  at  the  gruelling  of  sick  folks,  but 
I  can  ride  and  fetch  doctor's  stuffs,"  as  he  really  did ;  for,  one 
morning,  he  borrowed  a  horse  from  Mr.  Hopper,  the  miller,  ancj 
rode  seventeen  miles  for  a  supply  of  Jesuits'  bark,  which  could 
not  be  obtained  nearer  :  and  he  waited  on,  vrith  great  patience, 
to  see  the  upshot  of  the  fever,  saying  but  little  to  me  of  his  pro- 
jects while  the  life  remained. 

'  At  last,  the  signals  of  dissolution  began  to  increase,  and  hope 
was  banished ;  but  I  will  not  ask  the  courteous  reader  to  partake 


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392  Lawrie  Todd.  [Oct. 

of  my  distress^  though  an  inward  and  parental  sorrow  it  was, 
causing  me  to  grieve  more  on  account  of  the  helplessness  in 
which  my  two  young  daughters  were  to  be  left  motherless,  than 
for  the  loss  I  was  myself  to  experience.  It  was  not  like  the  an- 
guish that  pierced  my  heart  with  barbed  shafts,  when  the  beau- 
tiful spirit  of  the  beloved  Rebecca  was  wafted  away  into  the  re- 
gions of  light  and  love ;  but  it  was  a  black  and  heavy  sense  of  a 
calamity,  admonishing  me  to  summon  up  my  fortitude,  and  to 
bow  the  head  of  resignation  to  the  will  of  Him  that  giveth  and 
taketh  away. 

'  The  time  of  departure  was  visibly  come.  It  was  about  two 
hours  after  sunset.  The  patient  wrestled  strongly  against  being 
carried  so  suddenly  away,  for  she  knew  her  condition,  and  often 
in  her  struggles  cried  piteously  for  her  children,  stretching  out 
her  arms  as  if  she  saw  them  standing  by.  Hers,  indeed,  was  a 
parent's  heart ;  and  the  landlady,  being  of  the  Methodist  line, 
was  disturbed  that  she  should  seem  to  think  more  of  her  forlorn 
daughters,  than  of  the  glories  of  the  paradise  on  which  she  her- 
self was  about  to  enter — ^but  Mrs.  Petrekins  had  never  been  a 
mother. 

*  Sometimes  the  victorious  adversary  of  life  paused,  as  if  wea- 
ried with  the  contest,  and  prostrate  nature  on  those  occasions 
seemed  to  rally,  but  the  intervals  of  respite  grew  shorter  and 
shorter.  The  helps  were  no  longer  administered,  for  they  could 
not  mitigate  her  sufferings.  We  stood  round  the  bed  watching 
and  silent,  as  feebler  and  feebler  the  flashes  of  the  burnt-out 
candle  were  sinking  in  the  socket. 

*  With  the  last,  she  turned  to  the  old  man,  saying,  "  Be  kind 
to  my  babies,"  and  drawing  a  long  deep  sigh,  lay  still  forever. 

'  During  all  this  time  Mr.  Hoskins  stood  on  the  side  of  the  bed 
opposite  to  me,  looking  calmly  on ;  his  countenance  was  un- 
moved ;  and  once  or  twice,  when  I  chanced  to  turn  my  eyes  to- 
ward him,  he  appeared  so  cool  and  phlegmatical,  that  I  felt  a 
pang  in  my  heart,  to  think  her  nearest  kinsman,  on  such  an  oc- 
casion, should  be  so  heartless. 

'  All  being  over,  Mrs.  Petrekins,  the  landlady,  with  another 
woman  whom  I  had  procured  to  assist,  reminded  me  that  we 
ought  to  leave  the  room  to  them,  and  I  accordingly  moved  to 
retire ;  but  the  old  man,  not  having  heard  them,  remained  still 
looking  steadily,  but  with  the  same  seeming  indifference,  upon 
the  body. 

.  *  "  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Petrekins  aloud,  "  it  is  necessary  that  for  a 
time  we  should  have  the  room  cleared,"  and  she  went  round  and 
touched  him  on  the  arm. 

*  It  was  like  electricity  ;  it  roused  him  from  his  stupor  with  a 
shudder,  and  caused  him  to  step  two  paces  backward ;  in  the 


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1B30.]  Lawrte  Todd.  39S 

tiiame  moment  he  turned  his  eye  wildly  on  me,  and  burst  into  a 
violent  flood  of  tears. 

*  The  sight  of  that  wooden  old  man,  as  I  had  often  spoken  of 
him  in  jocularity,  weeping  like  a  woman,  and  fondling  over  the 
face  of  the  corpse  with  his  hand,  as  if  he  had  been  an  innocent 
child  gently  trying  to  awaken  its  sleeping  nurse,  surprised  me 
with  inexpressible  grief.  Till  that  time  I  had  been  enabled  to 
preserve  my  self-possession,  and  to  witness  the  progress  of  the 
dispensation  with  resolute  tranquillity ;  but  such  tenderness  so 
suddenly  discovered  in  that  dry  bosom,  overwhelmed  my  forti- 
tude, and  forced  me  also  to  weep.  The  women,  with  the  wonted 
sympathy  of  their  sex,  were  no  less  affected.  It  was  some 
time,  and  not  without  remonstrance  and  entreaty,  that  they  at 
last  succeeded  in  leading  the  sorrowful  old  man  away.'  pp. 
136—138. 

Lawrie  and  Hoskins  then  proceed  to  their  '  spec'  of  estab- 
lishing a  new  town  at  the  falls,  which  succeeds  wonderfully,  so 
that  before  the  conclusion  they  '  have  a  numerous  village  of 
some  two  or  three  thousand  inhabitants,  two  religious  congre- 
gations, a  bank,  and  two  newspapers.'  The  new  town  of  Judi- 
ville  thus  justifies  the  pompous  ceremonial  of  its  foundation, 
which  was  celebrated  by  the  intoxication  of  Baillie  Waft  and 
the  firing  of  sundry  wooden  cannon,  made  by  Mr.  Hoskins 
expressly  for  that  occasion.  We  must,  however,  pass  over  its 
history  in  silence,  and  omit  to  notice  many  eood  scenes  be- 
tween Lawrie  Todd,  Hoskins  and  Baillie  Watt,  and  others,  in 
which  Herbert,  and  the  minister,  Mr.  Bell,  bear  a  part. 

One  trait  in  Bell's  character  illustrates  the  penetrating 
sagacity  and  just  observation  of  the  author.  He  is  made  to 
be  savagely  austere  towards  the  vices  and  fauhs  of  other  per- 
sons ;  a  disposition  which  is  too  apt  to  pass  with  the  world  as 
an  indication  of  purity  of  character,  but  which  is  more  justly 
accounted  for  in  this  instance  from  tlie  circumstance  that  he 
had  himself  been  guilty  of  a  youthful  indiscretion,  and  still 
harbored  in  his  bosom  the  fiercest  and  blackest  passions,  which 
he  in  vain  endeavored  to  assuage  and  control.  We  would  not 
intimate,  that  persons  of  sincere  rectitude  of  purpose,  and  a 
virtuous  and  benevolent  nature,  regard  the  vices  and  moral 
delinquencies  of  others  with  complacency  or  indifference; 
they  are  on  the  contrary  kindly  solicitous  to  reclaim  wander- 
ers by  earnest  persuasion  unmingled  with  hate  or  bigotry,  and 
even  to  punish  where  humanity  to  the  community  dictates  a 
severe  justice  upon  the  offender.     But  a  busy,  meddling,  per- 


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394  Launie  Todd.  [Oct. 

secuting  intolenneey  or  a  fierce,  gloomy  mdigDatkm  against 
every  seeming  deviation  from  good  laws  and  exemplary  man* 
ners,  are  unequivocal  indications  of  latent,  unsubdued  deprav* 
ity  of  nature. 

A  contrast  is  made  in  this  respect  between  Herbert,  who  is 
really  of  a  good  disposition,  tempered  with  discretion,  and 
BeU,  who  is  a  gloomy  Protestant  inquisitor,  of  wicked  auster- 
ity. Todd  had  received  a  letter  from  New  York,  giving  him 
an  account  of  some  indiscretion  of  his  son,  and  his  concern  in 
an  affair  no  less  serious  than  a  duel*  Speaking  of  BeU,  the 
minister,  he  says, 

'  He  was,  indeed,  a  man  who  looked  upon  young  follies  with 
an  austere  aspect,  so  much  had  he  suffered  by  his  own  in  the 
outset  of  life  ;  and  I  had  by  this  time  discovered,  that  under  a 
saintly  equanimity  of  manner,  he  had  to  manage  vehement  pas- 
sions, which  were  chained,  but  not  subdued.  The  natural  man 
was  yet  strong  within  him  ;  even  in  the  pulpit,  when  he  prayed 
to  be  protected  from  temptation,  there  was  in  his  petition  a  some- 
thing of  energy  and  dread  that  thrilled  deep  among  the  awfullest 
sympathies  of  his  hearer's  hearts. 

'  It  was  some  time  before  I  could  guess  at  the  cause  of  this 
prophetical  contention,  for  such  it  seemed  to  me ;  but  when  I 
came  to  know  his  wife  better,  which  was  not  until  I  had  moved 
to  Judiville,  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  his  hearth  was  an  altar 
of  continual  sel^acrifice,  and  that  he  had  patched  up  a  peace 
with  decorum  by  his  marriage,  at  the  expense  of  his  happiness, 
and  the  dignity  of  his  mind.  All  this  made  him,  as  it  were,  in- 
accessible  to  the  common  matters  of  worldly  care ;  he  was  an 
oracle  only  to  be  consulted  at  solemn  times,  and  in  perilous 
emergencies ;  so  that  I  would  have  been  just  as  well  pleased 
could  I  have  conferred  with  Mr.  Herbert  by  himself,  concerning 
the  contents  of  Mr.  Ferret's  letter. 

'  Mr.  Herbert  came  at  the  bidding,  and  Charles  soon  after  re- 
turned and  took  a  stool  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  room  unobserved 
by  me,  otherwise  I  would  not  have  permitted  him  to  remain  ;  for 
it  is  not  fit  that  the  young  hear  what  the  old  think  of  yoathfiil 
errors. 

'  After  some  light  generalities,  I  handed  the  letter  to  Mr.  Her* 
bert,  and  requested  him  to  tell  me  what  he  would  advise  me  to 
do.  When  he  had  studiously  perused  it,  he  gave  it  to  the  Min- 
ister, at  which  I  was  a  little  disconcerted,  not  wishing  that  he 
should  become  exactly  a  party  to  the  consultation,  though  he 
was  accidentally  present. 

'  Mr.  Herbert  said  nothing  while  Mr.  Bell  was  reading ;  but  I 


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1890.]  Lawrie  Todd.  SM 

mis  startled  when  die  revered  gentleman,  having  finished  the 
perusal,  laid  down  the  letter  on  the  Uble,  and  without  making 
any  remark,  left  the  room. 

*  *'  He  takes  this  matter  too  seriously,"  said  Mr.  Herbert. 

^  "  I  wish  he  had  not  been  here,"  was  my  answer :  "  but  since 
it  has  so  happened,  I  will  call  him  back."  Accordingly,  I  went 
to.  the  door  and  brought  him  in  again.  Mr.  Herbert  was  the  first 
who  broke  silence. 

*  ''  It  is  not  to  be  disguised,"  said  he,  **  that  the  poor  lad  has 
fallen  into  some  irregularities,  but  it  is  equally  clear  he  has  com- 
mitted no  very  heinous  offence." 

''' Against  the  world,"  interrupted  Mr.  Bell,  sternly ;  "but 
what  has  he  done  against  himself?" 

*  *'I  trust  nothing  that  requires  any  particular  animadversion/' 
replied  Mr.  Herbert,  calmly. 

*  "  He  that  spareth  the  rod,  hateth  the  child,"  interposed  the 
Minister^  in  a  still  more  emphatic  strain ;  and  turning  to  me, 
added,  "  Let  him  be  brought  home  immediately,  nor  let  him 
enter  the  world  again,  till  he  is  better  able  to  take  care  of 
himself" 

'  "  I  can  see  nothing  in  the  statement  of  Mr.  Ferret,"  said 
Mr.  Herbert,  evidently  surprised  at  the  Minister's  warmth,  "  to 
justify  so  decided  a  step ;  we  cannot  put  old  heads  on  young 
shiNilders ;  I  think,  fi-om  what  I  know  of  the  generosity  of  the 
boy's  dii^sition,  that  a  kind  admonition  firom  his  father  will 
have  a  great  effect." 

'  "  Yes,  it  will,"  replied  Mr.  Bell ;  "  it  will  have  a  great  ef- 
fect— it  will  be  his  ruin." 

'  I  had  hitherto  said  nothing,  but  there  was  an  abrupt  harsh- 
ness in  this  that  really  shocked  me,  and  I  could  not  help  remark- 
ing that  Mr.  Ferret's  letter  gave  no  reason  to  fear  any  thing  so 
disreputable  as  to  call  for  punishment. 

'  "  No,"  rejoined  Mr.  Herbert ;  "  and  if  you  punish  without 
guilt,  or  if  you  punish  beyond  the  penalty  due  for  the  offence, 
you  supply  a  motive,  a  vindictive  motive,  to  perseverance  in 
error." 

*  This  sentiment,  dictated  by  humane  feelings  and  good  sense, 
Mr.  Bell  condemned  in  strong  terms ;  and  the  drift  of  his  ob- 
servations was  to  the  effect,  that  the  youth  himself  would  one 
day  turn  upon  me,  ^nd  cause  me  to  rue  beneath  his  reproaches 
the  fatal  indulgence  of  his  first  fault.  He  then  launched  into  a 
vehement  discourse  on  the  delusive  light  in  which  the  first  fault 
is  often  viewed,  and  worked  himself  into  such  zeal,  that  I  sat 
amazed :  while  Mr.  Herbert,  evidently  no  less  surprised,  inter- 
posed, and  began  to  remonstrate  against  the  cruelty  of  unrelent- 
ing justice.'    pp.  181 — 183. 


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396  Removal  of  the  Indians.  [Oct. 

With  thb  extract  we  cbse  our  brief  notice  of  this  entertain- 
ing little  work,  and  beg  leave  to  recommend  it  to  our  readers 
as  a  lively  and  correct  description  of  the  details  of  the  process 
by  which  the  *  woods  are  bowed  beneath  the  sturdy  stroke^  of 
the  adventurous  emigrant,  and  the  reign  of  civilisation  extended 
over  the  vast  solitudes  of  the  unexplored  wilderness. 


Abt.  VI. — Speeches  on  the  Indian  BUI ;  viz. — Cf  Messrs. 
Frelin^huysen^  Sprague^  and  Rohhins^  in  the  Senate  of 
the  United  States;  and  of  Messrs.  StorrSy  Huntington, 
Bates,  Everett,  and  others,  in  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, in  the  months  ofAprU  and  May,  1830.     Boston. 

Perhaps  no  question,  since  the  organization  of  the  general 
government  of  the  United  States,  has  attracted  more  attention 
among  the  thinking  members  of  our  community,  than  the  pre- 
sent controversy  respecting  Indian  rights.  Ckher  questions 
have  borne  a  more  immediate  relation  to  the  present  interests 
of  the  people.  Embargo,  war,  commerce,  the  triumph  of  one 
political  party  and  the  defeat  of  another,  are  topics  in  which 
the  mass  of  the  inhabitants  of  a  free  country  feel  a  deep  inter- 
est, and  on  which  they  express  their  feelings  strongly  and  si- 
multaneously. It  cannot  be  expected,  that  the  condition  of  a 
few  tribes  of  secluded  Indians  should  at  once  claim  and  secure 
the  sympathies  of  millions,  who  are  occupied,  if  not  engrossed, 
by  their  own  pursuits,  and  who  spend  litde  time  in  contemplat- 
ing the  sufferings  of  men  whom  they  never  saw,  or  m  attempt- 
ing to  redress  grievances,  which  are  totally  different  from  any 
that  are  likely  to  be  imposed  upon  themselves.  Yet,  with  all 
the  disadvantages  of  their  situation,  the  Indians  have  found 
many  thousands  among  the  most  intelligent,  virtuous,  and  hon- 
orable of  the  American  people,  who  would  deal  jusdy  and 
faithfully  by  them,  and  who  would  make  personal  sacrifices  of 
time,  labor,  and  money,  to  protect  and  defend  their  rights. 
Indeed,  so  far  as  the  people  of  the  United  States  understand 
fte  subject,  and  are  free  from  the  influence  of  violent  political 
partialities,  their  feelings  are  almost  universally  favorable  to  the 
claims  of  the  Indians.  All  profess  to  wish  well  to  the  remnants 
of  tribes  still  among  us,  and  doubdess  the  great  majority,  with 
the  qualification  just  mentioned,  are  sincere  m  their  profes- 
sions. 


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18^.]  Removal  of  the  Indiam.  397 

On  the  subject  of  tlie  rights  of  tlie  American  aborigines, 
there  has  been  much  loose  reasoning,  and  some  quite  as  loose 
morality.  It  will  be  found,  however,  that  respectable  writers 
have  more  frequently  been  led  into  error  by  staling  extravagant 
cases,  and  raising  imaginary  difficulties,  than  by  examining 
the  foundation  of  title  to  lands,  or  by  looking  at  facts,  as  tliey 
took  place  on  the  settlement  of  this  country. 

Much  of  the  writing  on  the  subject  has  been  provoked  by 
vehement  and  sweeping  censures  of  the  conduct  and  policy, 
pursued  by  colonists  from  Europe.  The  occasion  of  these 
censures,  it  was  supposed,  could  be  removed  in  no  other  way, 
than'  by  making  out  for  Europeans  a  paramount  tide,  partly  on 
the  ground  of  superior  civilisation,  and  partly  because  they 
were  commonly  in  the  habit  of  using  land  for  tillage,  which 
was  not  generally  done  by  the  original  inhabitants  of  America. 

It  is  to  be  remembered,  also,  that  self-interest  has  always 
been  able  to  engage  advocates  to  enlarge,  fortify,  and  defend, 
the  pretensions  of  the  whites ;  while  the  Indians  have  had  no 
logicians  to  expose  the  sophistry  of  those,  who  would  make 
*  the  worse  appear  the  better  reason  ;'  nor  counsel,  learned  in 
the  law,  to  study  and  plead  in  their  behalf;  nor  historians  to 
gather  up  and  preserve  the  evidence  of  acknowledgments  in 
their  favor,  or  of  the  wrongs  they  have  suffered.  OratOTs  they 
have  had,  the  power  of  whose  eloquence  has  a  thousand  times 
frustrated  the  schemes  of  the  greedy  speculator  and  the  in- 
triguing agent ;  but  these  schemes  were  always  renewed  and 
repeated  till  they  became  successful.  The  eloquence,  by  which 
they  were  resisted,  was  evanescent ;  but  the  motives  by  which 
they  were  prompted,  never  ceased  to  operate. 

The  discussions  of  the  last  nine  months,  especially  those 
upon  the  floor  of  Congress,  have  brought  before  the  public,  it 
tnay  be  presumed,  all  the  theories  upon  the  subject  of  Indian 
rights,  that  have  ever  been  promulgated.  We  are  not  able  to 
mention  a  political  measure,  or  a  legislative  act,  that  exhibited 
in  Congress  more  decisive  proof  of  elaborate  investigation,  than 
appeared  in  the  debates  on  the  bill  to  provide  for  the  removal 
of  the  Indians.  In  preparing  the  present  article,  we  have  made 
free  use  of  the  materials  supplied  by  these  discussions,  when- 
ever they  appeared  to  suit  our  purpose. 

The  question  that  presents  itself,  at  the  very  threshold  of  the 
discussion,  is,  What  were  the  relatU>e  tights  of  the  J^Torth  Ame^ 
riean  Indians j  and  of  the  early  discoverers,  to  the  lands  if  this 

VOL.  XXXI. NO.  69.  51 


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S98  Removal  of  the  Indiane.  [Oet; 

continent  9  On  this  question  we  shall  briefly  express  an  opin* 
ion.  It  will  be  satisfactory  to  ourselves ;  though  we  would  by 
no  means  enforce  it  dogmatically  upon  our  readers.  When 
disentangled  from  all  extraneous  topics,  it  is  a  question  on 
which  every  honest  and  intelligent  man  can  easily  form  an 
opinion  for  himself. 

We  say,  then,  that  the  discoverers  of  America  had  a  right 
to  take  possession  of  such  parts  of  this  continent,  as  they  found 
unoccupied  by  human  beings.  This  right  they  derived  from 
the  Creator  of  the  world ;  and  it  cannot  be  disputed.  But 
when  they  found  portions,  (even  if  those  portions  amounted  to 
the  whole,)  occupied  by  the  original  inhabitants,  *the  discover- 
ers had  no  right  to  eject  the  possessors.  How  is  it  conceiva- 
ble, that  the  mere  discovery  of  a  country  should  give  the  dis- 
coverers a  title  paramount  to  tlie  title  of  natives,  whose  ances- 
tors had  been  in  possession  from  time  immemorial  ?  The  mere 
statement  of  the  case  shows  the  inherent  absurdity  of  a  claim^ 
which  has  been  so  often  made,  that  many  people  seem  to  thbk 
it  reasonable. 

But,  it  will  be  asked,  is  an  Indian  to  hold  possession  of  a 
country,  merely  because  he  once  chased  a  deer  over  a  tract 
containing  a  thousand  square  miles  ?  Were  we  disposed  to  be 
captious,  we  should  answer  this  question  by  asking,  whether  a 
ship-master  can  take  possession  of  land  by  sailing  within  sight 
of  it  ?  The  Indian  may  as  well  hold  possession  in  one  ca^e,  as 
the  ship-master  take  possession  in  the  other.  The  fact  is,  that 
neither  of  these  acts  amounts  to  a  possession. 

Let  us  make  this  matter  a  little  more  practical.  We  will 
suppose  that  an  English  discovery  ship,  followed  by  a  little 
colony,  sailed  along  the  coast,  from  the  bay  of  Fundy  to  the 
mouth  of  Penobscot  river ;  and,  finding  no  inhabitants,  landed 
there  and  began  a  settlement.  After  a  few  months,  an  Indian 
visits  the  new  comers,  and  tells  them  that  they  are  occupymg 
his  land,  to  which  he  can  by  no  means  consent.  They  ask 
him,  by  what  right  he  claims  the  land ;  where  he  lives ;  and 
what  his  employments  are.  He  frankly  replies,  that  he  claims 
the  land  between  the  Penobscot  and  the  bay  of  Fundy,  be- 
cause some  ten  years  before  he  spent  a  month  there  in  hunt- 
ing and  fishing ;  that  his  principal  residence  is  on  Connecticut 
river,  where  he  has  a  little  patch  of  com  and  pumpkins ;  that 
he  sometimes  visits  Hudson  river  and  lake  Champlain }  but 
that  he  probably  never  should  have  come  to  the  Penobscot 


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1S30.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  399 

agaifl,  unless  he  had  heard  of  intruders  taking  possession  of  his 
land. 

The  colonists,  if  they  were  kind-hearted  and  hpnest  men^ 
would  hear  him  patiently,  and  assure  hira,  that  they  did  not 
intend  to  encroach  upon  any  man's  land ;  that  he  had  not  made 
out  a  title ;  that  he  neither  had  possession  of  the  land,  nor  had 
he  the  slightest  pretence  for  desiring  it ;  that  they  would  not 
molest  him  upon  Connecticut  river,  and  he  must  not  molest 
them  in  their  new  settlement.  If,  in  such  a  case,  the  Indian 
were  to  collect  his  countrymen  and  make  war  upon  the  colony, 
he  would  be  the  aggressor ;  and  the  colonists  might  as  prop- 
erly defend  themselves  against  him,  as  against  any  other  as- 
sailant. 

It  ought  to  be  said  here,  that  probably  no  North  American 
Indian  was  ever  so  silly,  as  to  make  a  formal  claim,  like  the 
one  which  has  been  described.  The  case  was  stated,  in  order 
to  answer  llie  question  so  triumphantly  asked  by  various  wri- 
ters, whether  the  chasing  of  a  deer  over  an  immense  tract  of 
country  gives  the  Indian  a  right  to  exclude  civilised  men  from 
that  tract  ?  It  is  plain  enough,  that  a  single  hunting  excursion 
is  not  an  actual  possession,  though  it  is  a  great  deal  more  than 
a  mere  discovery  from  a  ship's  deck ;  and  it  would  furnish 
quite  as  valid  an  objection  to  a  new  settlement  by  civilised 
men,  as  to  a  new  appropriation  to  purposes  of  hunting  by  other 
Indians. 

We  do  not  deny,  that  there  may  be  cases,  where  discover- 
ers may  be  debarred  from  taking  possession  of  unoccupied 
lands,  on  the  ground  that  they  might  probably  be  dangerous 
neighbors.  If  honest  and  reasonable  fears  were  entertained  on 
this  score,  by  the  original  inhabitants  in  the  vicinity,  the  new 
comers  ought  not  to  complain,  if  required  to  give  proof,  by  a 
just  and  humane  intercourse,  of  the  most  upright  and  honorable 
intentions.  We  go  upon  the  assumption,  that  honest  men  can 
always  establish  a  character  for  honesty ;  such  a  character,  as 
that  other  men,  civilised  or  uncivilised,  will  not  be  afraid  to 
trust  them.  Certainly  the  inconvenience  is  much  less,  that 
colonists  should  be  obliged  to  establish  a  character  for  them- 
selves, than  that  the  native  inhabitants  of  a  country  should  be 
obliged  to  take  every  adventurer  to  their  bosom,  without  stop- 
ping to  ascertain  whether  he  is  a  viper  or  not. 

We  have  supposed  a  case  of  unoccupied  lands.  It  is  be- 
Ueved,  however,  that  very  few  such  tracts  were,  found  by  the 


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400  lUmoval  of  the  Jndiam.  [Oct 

early  discoverers ;  and  that  these  few  were  of  very  small  di- 
mensions. The  American  continent  was  generally,  though 
sparsely,  inhabited  ;  and  most  of  the  inhabitants  had  a  perma- 
nent residence,  within  known  limits.  We  will  therefore  look  a 
little  at  facts,  as  they  existed  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  during  the 
seventeenth  century.  Colonists  arrived  in  rapid  succession. 
The  natives  were  in  the  actual  occupancy  of  the  soil.  Their 
possession  was  in  no  sense  fictitious,  or  constructive.  There 
were  multitudes  of  places,  which  had  not  been  vacant  of  in- 
habitants from  the  times  of  the  remotest  tradition.  Other 
places  were  visited  periodically,  and  regularly,  for  purposes  of 
hunting.  It  appears  to  us,  that  both  these  kinds  of  possession 
were  perfectly  good ;  and  that  an  attempt  to  divest  the  natives 
of  their  country,  thus  in  their  possession,  on  any  plea  of  dis- 
covery, is  not  only  monstrously  unjust,  but  is  an  insult  to  the 
common  sense  of  mankind. 

We  shall  be  asked,  whether  this  continent  should  be  left  in 
a  state  of  perpetual  wildness,  covered  with  interminable  forests, 
and  unsubdued  by  the  labor  of  man  ?  We  simply  answer, 
that  the  plainest  rules  of  morality  forbid  us  to  appropriate  to 
ourselves  the  property  of  others  without  their  consent.  The 
question  about  excluding  civilisation  from  a  whole  continent  is 
a  very  imposing  one.  It  proceeds  upon  the  assumption  of 
some  vast  state  necessity,  some  uncontrollable  urgency  of 
the  case,  which  could  not  be  resisted  without  opposing 
the  manifest  designs  of  Providence,  and  disregarding  the 
comfort  of  mankind.  But  this  assumption  is  altogether  a 
mistake.  The  natives  of  America,  whenever  kindly  treated 
for  any  length  of  time,  were  easily  induced  to  receive  Euro- 
pean settlers  as  their  friends.  The  question  has  no  practical 
application  to  the  natives  at  all.  They  did  not  keep  perpetual 
guard  on  their  shores  to  drive  o£F  new  settlers.  Many  of 
them  felt  gratified  to  have  white  men  come  and  share  their 
country  with  them.  In  short,  there  was  little  difficulty  in  ob- 
taining from  the  natives  an  honest  and  peaceable  possession  of 
lands,  on  every  part  of  the  coast.  The  necessity,  therefore, 
^hich  makes  so  promment  a  figure  in  all  discussions  of  this 
subject,  never  existed.  Should  the  question  still  be  pressed, 
-and  should  we  be  required  to  answer  what  we  would  advise,  in 
case  a  new  world  should  now  be  discovered,  the  inhabitants  of 
which  should  pertinaciously  refuse  to  sell  their  lands,  or  to  ad- 
mit strangers,  we  reply,  that  no  code  of  political  morality 


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1830.]  Removal  of  the  hidians.  401 

should  be  introduced  into  the  new  world,  which  was  not  held 
to  be  sound  and  genuine  morality  in  the  old. 

If,  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  the  sovereign 
of  a  populous  country  might  take  possession  of  a  sparsely  set- 
tled territory  belonging  to  his  neighbor,  merely  because  he 
could  put  the  land  to  a  better  use  than  his  neighbor  was  in- 
clined to  do,  Europe  might  have  afforded  opportunities  enough 
to  carry  the  principle  into  practice.  Large  portions  of  Prus- 
sia, Poland,  and  European  Russia  were  at  that  time  very 
thinly  inhabited.  When  such  a  chapter  had  been  fairly  in- 
serted in  the  law  of  nations,  and  had  been  found  convenient  in 
its  application  to  such  a  power  as  Russia,  it  would  be  quite 
soon  enough  to  force  it  upon  the  natives  of  America.  The 
Christian  powers  of  Europe  made  what  they  called  the  Law 
of  Nations.  Why  not  first  apply  their  own  law  to  them- 
selves? If  it  may  be  forcibly  demanded  of  a  community, 
which  has  much  land  and  few  people,  to  give  a  part  of  its 
land  to  a  populous  neighbor,  why  not  make  a  great  interna- 
tional agrarian  law,  by  which  Europe  should  be  parcelled  out 
to  the  different  nations,  in  a  compound  ratio,  having  regard  to 
the  number  of  souls,  and  the  relative  productiveness  of  the 
land? 

Even  in  our  own  days,  there  are  many  places  upon  the 
Eastern  continent,  where  land  might  be  claimed  by  all  the  ar- 
guments, which  are  set  in  such  formidable  array  against  the 
possession  of  the  American  Indians.  Vattel  speaks  of  *  erratic 
tribes.'  How  many  hundred  erratic  tribes  of  Tartars  are 
there  ?  How  many  of  Arabs  ?  The  Tartars  Tat  least  many 
of  them),  pay  no  attention  to  agriculture,  ana  are  scarcely 
more  civilised  than  were  the  associates  of  Powhatan,  or  king 
Philip. 

The  fact  is,  that  the  great  tide  to  land,  from  the  days  of  Noah 
to  the  present  time,  both  in  respect  to  communities  and-  indi- 
viduals, has  been  a  lawful  occupancy;  that  is,  an  appropriation 
to  one's  own  use  of  what  previously  belonged  to  nobody  \  or 
a  possession  fairly  derived  from  a  previous  lawful  possessor. 
The  formality  of  deeds,  and  covenants,  and  guaranties,  has 
respect  to  the  evidence  of  tide,  and  not  to  the  substance  of  it. 
Over  a  great  part  of  the  world,  indeed,  the  law  of  the  strong- 
est has  been  the  only  governing  rule  of  action.  But  wherever 
nations,  or  individuals,  have  pretended  to  respect  each  other's 
claims,  and  to  act  upon  principles  of  moral  rectitude,  the  title 


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402  Retnoval  of  the  iidiafu.  [Oct. 

to  property  has  not  been  made  to  depend  upon  the  use  to 
which  the  possessor  applies  his  property.  He  must,  mdeed, 
so  use  his  own  as  not  to  injure  his  neighbor ;  but  more  than 
this  he  is  not  required  to  do.  Nations  are  not  to  be  asked, 
whether  they  gain  their  subsistence  by  hunting,  pasturage, 
fishing  or  agricuhure,  before  it  can  be  determined,  whether 
they  have  a  title  to  their  own  country  or  not.  The  only 
question,  which  an  honest  man  need  to  put,  is.  Have  you  a 
lawful  possession  of  a  country  within  known  boundaries?  If 
this  question  can  be  answered  in  the  affirmative,  the  whole 
matter  of  title  is  forever  at  rest. 

The  United  States  would  contend  with  a  very  ill  grace  for 
the  doctrine,  that  unsettled  lands  may  be  seized  by  those,  who 
need  them  for  the  purpose  of  cuhivation.  How  many  mil- 
lions of  the  people  of  France,  Germany  and  Ireland  might 
appropriate  to  themselves  good  farms  in  the  States  of  Indiana, 
Illinois  and  Missouri  ?  Why  should  they  not  take  immediate 
possession  and  set  up  their  own  forms  of  government  ? 

It  is  worse  than  idle  to  say,  that  an  uncivilised  man  has  not 
the  same  title  to  property,  that  a  civilised  man  would  have,  in 
the  same  circumstances.  There  is  not,  there  never  was,  a 
law  of  nations  that  explicitly  made  this  distinction.  It  is  ad- 
mitted, that  an  Indian  has  as  good  a  title  to  his  canoe,  as  an 
English  merchant  to  his  ship.  Why  not  as  good  a  title  to  his 
landing-place,  his  little  island,  and  his  wigwam,  as  an  English  | 

gentleman  to  his  park  and  his  villa  ? 

When  the  colonists  landed  on  the  American  coast,  they 
brought  with  them  charters  from  the  kings  of  Europe.     It  j 

may  be  worth  while  to  spend  a  few  moments  in  the  inquiry,  I 

What  were  the  legitimate  uses  of  these  instruments  ? 

It  is  very  obvious  to  the  attentive  reader  of  history,  that  the 
right  of  discovery  was  set  up  by  the  maritime  nations  of  Eu-  j 

rope'  rather  against  each  other  than  against  the  aborigines  of 
America.  The  master  passions  of  ambition  and  avarice  were 
excited  and  inflamed  to  an  astonishing  degree ;  and  all  the 
great  discovering  powers  aimed  to  grasp  as  much  as  possible 
of  the  new  continent.  Spain  and  Portugal  could  not  engross 
the  whole.  England  and  France  would  come  in  for  a  share. 
In  these  circumstances,  it  became  gradually  established,  that 
one  power  should  not  interfere  with  the  settlements  of  an- 
other; and  boundaries  were  agreed  upon,  within  which  the 
subjects  of  the  respective  powers  might,  exclusively  of  all 


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188a.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  403 

other  Europeans,  carry  on  their  commercial  enterprises,  and 
make  their  respective  settlements. 

Stipulations  of  this  kind  were  mutually  beneficial.  They 
prevented  many  collisions,  and  were  neither  in  themselves,  nor 
in  their  tendency,  injurious  to  the  natives.  Still,  the  adoption 
of  such  a  course  was  entirely  optional  with  the  discovering 
powers.  Any  one  of  these  powers,  in  accordance  with  the  prin- 
ciples already  stated,  might  take  possession  of  any  unoccupied 
land  upon  the  American  continent ;  or  might  purchase  of  the 
natives  any  land  not  previously  sold  by  them  to  Europeans. 
How  far  a  possession,  dius  lawfully  obtained,  should  extend  in 
every  direction,  would  be  a  matter  of  sound  judgment,  or  of 
reasonable  construction.  The  Spaniards  were  not  entitled  to 
be  the  sole  visitors  of  America,  merely  because  Columbus  dis- 
covered it.  The  fact  that  Henry  Hudson  entered  the  river, 
which  now  bears  his  name,  furnishes  no  good  reason  why  new 
settlers  from  four  different  nations  might  not  have  obtained 
lawful  possession  of  Long  Island,  Connecticut,  New  Jersey, 
and  tlie  west  bank  of  the  Delaware.  All  that  an  infant  colony 
could  rightfully  demand  of  other  infant  colonies,  was,  that  they 
should  not  plant  themselves  so  near,  as  to  cut  off  those  re- 
sources, which  were  necessary  to  its  existence  and  its  comfort. 
If  there  had  been  no  conventional  arrangement,  therefore,  be- 
tween the  sovereigns  of  .Europe,  the  subjects  of  anyone  of 
these  powers  might  have  made  settlements  upon  any  unoccu- 

S)ied  lands,  or  upon  any  lands  of  which  possession  could  be 
airly  obtained. 

A  charter  granted  by  a  King  of  England,  for  instance,  to 
certam  individuals  among  his  subjects,  legitimately  implied  the 
following  things ;  first,  that  he  would  guaranty  the  territory, 
which  he  had  granted,  against  the  claims  of  any  other  Euro- 
pean power ;  secondly,  that  he  had  not  granted,  and  would  not 
grant,  the  same  territory  to  others  of  his  subjects ;  and  thirdly, 
Uiat  tlie  grantees  were  to  hold  the  territory,  when  actually  set- 
tled, as  a  part  of  his  realm,  under  such  prmciples  of  jurisdic- 
tion and  legislation,  as  might  be  properly  applied  to  other  parts 
of  his  realm.  So  much  would  be  fairly  and  naturally  implied 
in  giving  and  receiving  a  charter.  Specific  conditions  might 
be  inserted,  at  the  pleasure  of  the  King,  which,  if  assented  to^ 
would  bind  the  grantees ;  provided,  however,  that  the  condi- 
tions did  not  invade  the  inalienable  rights  of  his  subjects,  nor 
of  any  other  persons. 


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404  Bmowd  of  the  Indiam.  [Oct 

But  notbing  can  be  more  extravagant  than  to  suppose,  that 
the  charter  of  an  English  king  could  deprive  of  their  rights  the 
bhabitants  of  a  distant  continent ;  or  that  their  title  to  land  or 
rivers  could  be  in  the  slightest  degree  invalidated  by  the  magi- 
cal effect  of  a  parchment,  signed  bv  a  man  of  whom  they  never 
heard,  and  who  knew  nothmg  of  the  regicMis  which  he  con- 
veyed, nor  of  the  people  by  whom  these  regions  were  inhab- 
ited. Several  of  the  charters  conveyed  territory  bounded  by 
lines  of  latitude,  and  extending  from  the  Adantic  to  die  Pa- 
cific ;  and  certainly  the  King  ot  England  had  as  good  a  right  to 
take  lands  from  the  natives  of  California  as  from  the  natives  of 
Cape  Cod.  If  he  could  properly  drive  a  Narraganset  from 
his  fishing  hut,  at  die  mouth  of  Newport  harbor,  he  might 
seize  the  beaver^traps  of  the  Sioux  on  the  head  waters  of  the 
Mississi{^i.  If  he  might,  by  the  mere  force  of  his  royal  pre- 
rogative and  as  the  head  of  a  discovering  nation,  hold  a  single 
mile  on  the  Atlantic  coast,  against  the  will  of  the  original  own- 
ers, he  might  seize  and  hold  the  entire  continent,  so  far  as  the 
rights  of  the  natives'  were  concerned.  To  the  consequences 
of  such  a  doctrine  we  may  advert  on  a  subsequent  page. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  legitimate  meaning  and  effect  of  a 
royal  charter.  In  point  of  fact,  however,  the  kings  of  Europe 
did,  in  some  instances,  assert  the  right  to  subdue  the  natives 
by  force,  and  to  appropriate  their  territory,  without  their 
consent,  to  the  uses  of  the  colonists.  The  King  of  Spain 
founded  this  right  solely  on  the  grant  of  the  Pope,  as  the  vice- 
gerent of  Christ  upon  earth.  The  Kings  .of  England,  in  the 
sixteenth  century,  placed  it  on  the  superior  claims,  which 
Christians  possessed  over  Infidels.  Spain  acted  in  accordance 
with  her  principles,  and  treasured  up  a  fearful  amount  of  guilt 
and  infamy,  which  will  be  remembered  against  her  so  long  as 
the  history  of  this  continent  shall  be  known.  It  is  a  pleasing 
consideration,  however,  that  there  were  individuals,  even  in 
the  court  of  Spain,  who  utterly  disclaimed  and  rejected  these 
absurd  and  tyrannical  doctrines.  Mr.  Huntington,  in  the 
course  of  his  researches  on  the  Indian  question,  ascertained, 
that  the  civilians  and  crown  lawyers  of  Spain  gave  their  advice 
against  receiving  the  Pope's  grant ;  and  '  one  of  the  bishops  in 
a  treatise  dedicated  to  Charles  V.,  uses  this  strong  language  : 
"  The  natives  of  America,  having  their  own  lawful  kings  and 
princes,  and  a  right  to  make  laws  for  the  good  government  of 
their  respective  dominions,  could  not  be  expelled  but  of  them, 


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1830.]  Removai  of. the  Indians.  40» 

nor  deprived  of  what  they  possess,  without  dcring  vidence  to 
the  laws  of  God,  as  well  as  the  laws  of  nations." ' 

This  opinion  is  so  obviously  just  and  reasonable,  that  it 
would  not  seem  deserving  of  particular  praise,  had  it  not  been 
pronounced  in  a  period  of  great  superstition,  and  in  opposition 
to  the  doctrines,  then  prevalent,  of  unbounded  ecclesiastical 
and  regal  prerogative.  But  what  words  can  express  the  in- 
dignation of  every  honorable  man,  that  in  the  United  States, 
and  at  the  present  day,  the  attempt  should  be  made  to  prove, 
by  the  weakest  and  vilest  sophistries,  that  the  natives  of  Amer- 
ica had  no  rights^  either  of  territory  or  government ;  and  that 
the  discovery  of  a  cape,  or  an  island,  was  a  constructive  pos- 
sesion of  a  tract  of  land  extending  across  the  contment? 

The  charters  given  by  British  kings,  during  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries,  are  generally  silent  respectmg  the  na- 
tives. Lands,  rivers,  and  so  forth,  are  granted,  in  precisely  the 
same  manner,  as  if  there  had  been  no  inhabitants.  This  course 
was  very  far  from  being  honorable.  The  rightful  occupancy  of 
the  Indians  should  have  been  explicitly  acknowledged,  and  a  fair 
and  lawful  manner  of  purchasing  their  title  should  have  been 
prescribed.  The  very  silence  of  the  charters  on  this  subject 
shows,  that  the  extravagant  claims  of  the  sixteenth  century 
were  abandoned,  as  utterly  untenable.  It  shows  also,  that 
there  was  a  grasping  desire  on  the  part  of  the  European  mon- 
archs,  which  was  altogether  unjustifiable,  and  a  disposition  to- 
leave  the  Indians  to  the  arts  and  the  cupidity  of  adventurers^ 
If  religious  persecution  had  not  driven  to  these  shores  some  of 
the  best  and  most  honorable  men  in  the  world,  it  is  not  improb- 
able that  serious  encroachments  would  have  been  made  upon 
the  rights  of  the  North  American  Indians,  under  color  of  the 
royal  charters.  A  few  detaik  can  be  gathered  from  the  early 
history  of  this  country,  which  indicate  an  undue  reliance  upon 
these  charters ;  but  we  have  seen  no  evidence,  that  the  Indians 
were,  in  a  single  instance,  deprived  of  their  lands,  under  any 
pretence  of  right  to  these  lands,  subsisting  in  the  King  of 
England. 

It  is  true  beyond  all  question,  that  the  early  settlers  at  Ply- 
mouth, at  Salem,  at  Saybrook,  and,  as  a  general  rule,  all  along 
the  Atlantic  coast,  purchased  the  lands  upon  which  they  set- 
tled, and  proceeded  m  their  settlements  with  the  consent  of 
the  natives.     Nineteen  twentieths  of  the  land  in  the  Atlantic 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NQ«  69.  52 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


406  JSUmovd  of  the  Indium.  [Oct 

states,  and  nearly  all  the  land  settled  by  the  whites  in  th« 
western  states,  came  into  oui  possession  as  the  result  of  ami- 
cable treaties.  The  smaU  portion,  claimed  by  right  of  con- 
quest, was  wrested  from  the  Indians  in  strenuous  war.  It  was 
no  fictitious  or  constructive  conquest.  Every  inch  of  ground 
was  contested  ;  and  most  of  the  wars,  which  issued  in  acquisi* 
tion  of  territory  from  the  Indians,  were  forced  upon  our  fathers, 
and  were  stricdy  defensive  ok  their  part.  Some  small  por- 
tions of  territory  were  abandoned  by  Indians,  because  they  pre- 
ferred to  live  at  a  greater  distance  from  the  whites. 

In  a  wo^d,  the  first  settlers  of  the  Anglo-American  colonies, 
and  of  the  Dutch  colony  on  the  Hudsc»i,  purchased  lands  of 
the  Indians,  cnr  professed  to  have  purchased  them,  in  the  most 
honorable  manner.  Although  doctrines  were  sometimes  as- 
serted in  dieory,  which  would  have  abridged  the  rights  of  the 
Indians,  yet  we  do  not  find  in  practice  a  single  demand  of  ter- 
ritory from  them,  on  the  ground  that  d^e  king  of  England  had 
granted  it  to  some  of  his  subjects.  The  practice  was  all  the 
other  way  ;  and  every  purchase  of  land  from  the  Indians  was 
made  in  such  a  manner,  and  under  such  circumstances,  as  to 
be  a  fair  and  fall  admission  of  their  righi  to  seU ;  and,  of 
course,  an  admission  of  their  original  title. 

At  an  early  period  of  the  setdement  of  Massachusetts,  as  we 
learn  from  Hutchinson's  history,  the  most  ample  and  explicit 
declarations  were  made  by  our  fathers  to  this  e&ci ;  viz.  that  the 
natives  had  derived  from  God  a  perfect  tide  to  their  country ; 
that  they  were  subject  to  their  own  government,  and  to  no  other  j 
and  that  no  human  power  could  divest  them  of  these  rights. 

Soon  after  the  emigration  commenced  from  Boston  and  its 
neighborhood  to  the  banks  of  Connecticut  river,  murders  were 
perpetrated  by  Indians  residing  not  far  from  Springfield.  The 
governor  sent  to  Mr.  Pynchon,  the  magistrate  or  leading  man 
of  the  new  setdement,  directing  that  the  murderers  should  be 
apprehended  for  trial  and  punishment.  Mr.  P}mchon  declined 
obeying  the  order ;  andj  among  other  reasons,  assigned  the 
fact,  that  the  Indians  were  not  under  the  jurisdiction  of  Mas- 
sachusetts. This  fact  is  stated  with  admirable  clearness,  as 
follows  :  *•  I  grant  that  all  these  Indians  are  within  the  line  of 
the  patent ;  but  yet,  you  cannot  say  they  are  your  subjects, 
nor  yet  withm  your  jurisdiction,  till  they  have  fully  subjected 
themselves,  (which  I  know  they  have  not,)  and  until  you  have 
bought  their  land.     Until  thb  be  done,  they  must  be  esteemed 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Removal  of  the  IndioM.  407 

as  an  independent,  free  people.'  This  passage  indicates  a  dis* 
criminating  mind  and  an  honest  disposition.  It  is  in  the  true 
spirit  of  our  declaration  of  independence,  issued  more  than  a 
hundred  years  afterwards,  in  which  we  asserted,  that  goTem- 
ments  derive  '  their  just  powers  from  the  consent  of  the  gov- 
erned,^ In  this  extreme  case  of  actual  murder,  committed  hy 
Indians  near  the  white  settlements,  and  within  the  chartered 
limits  of  the  colony,  this  magistrate  had  the  candor  to  admit, 
that  the  perpetrators  were  not  amenable  to  the  laws  of  the 
whites,  because  they  had  never  subjected  themselves  to  those 
laws.  The  reason  was  admitted  by  the  governor  to  be  valid. 
The  only  method  of  proceeding  against  the  Indians  would 
have  been  to  demand  satisfaction,  and,  if  it  should  be  withheld, 
and  the  cause  should  have  been  deemed  sufficient,  to  declare 
war  in  the  last  resort. 

It  is  true  that  the  cobnists,  and  sometimes  the  agents  of  the 
government  at  home,  talked  to  tlie  Indians  about  the  grandeur 
of  the  English  monarch,  die  number  of  bis  people,  the  great- 
ness of  his  power,  his  willingness  to  protect  his  friends,  and  hb 
ability  to  punish  bis  enemies.  In  these  discourses,  sonoe  vague 
expressions  about  his  sovereignty  were  doubtless  uttered ;  but 
always  in  such  a  sense,  as  to  lead  the  natives  to  think  that  it 
was  a  great  benefit  to  live  under  the  king's  protection ;  that  his 
character  was  altogether  paternal ;  and  that  living  under  his 
care  implied  only,  thai  Indians  living  in  this  manner  were  not 
to  join  the  French  or  the  Spaniards,  and  were  to  remam  se- 
cure in  the  possession  of  their  lands,  liberties,  and  laws.  No 
instance  has  met  our  eye,  nor  has  it  been  intimated  in  the  late 
discussions,  that  any  instance  can  be  found,  in  which  an  Eng- 
lish colony,  or  an  English  agent,  told  the  Indians,  that  they  had 
no,  right  to  the  lands  on  which  they  were  bom  ;  that  the  king 
of  England  had  granted  their  country ;  and  that  they  were  now 
subjects  of  the  kmg,  amenable  to  his  laws ;  idl  their  own  laws 
and  customs  being  abolished  by  his  order.  There  would  have 
been  as  little  safety  as  honesty  in  making  such  a  proclamation^ 
at  any  period  of  the  cdonial  history. 

Treaties  were  made  with  the  Indians  from  the  first.  Some 
of  them  were  observed  on  both  sides,  with  exemplary  fidelity. 
When  differences  arose,  and  wars  succeeded,  the  change  of 
feelings  and  of  circumstances  was  often  owing  to  the  improper 
conduct  of  individuals.  Even  war  did  not  always,  nor  often, 
prevent  a  return  to  a  regular  diplomatic  intercourse*.    Treatief 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


408  Removal  of  the  Indiam.  [Oct. 

were  made,  in  numberless  instances,  and  in  every  part  of  this 
continent,  founded  on  stipulations,  which  implied  as  much 
actual  and  rightful  independence  on  the  part  of  the  Indians,  as 
on  the  part  of  the  whites. 

About  the  middle  of  the  last  century,  alliances  with  the  In- 
dians became  very  important,  and  were  much  sought  by  the 
English  and  the  French.  The  terms  of  these  alliances  usu- 
ally were,  an  engagement  of  protection,  accompanied  with 
presents,  made  by  the  European  power  to  the  Indians,  and  die 
admission  of  a  qualified  dependence  by  the  latter.  It  was 
never  understood,  however,  that  the  Indians  were  to  be  de- 
prived of  their  lands  without  their  consent,  or  that  their  laws 
and  customs  were  to  be  in  any  manner  afiected.  Before  the 
commencement  of  the  revolutionary  war,  die  policy  of  Great 
Britain  had  become  fixed  and  uniform  on  this  subject.  The 
Indians  were  not  to  sell  their  lands  to  mdividuals,  nor  to  the 
enemies  of  the  king.  They  were  to  live  under  his  protection, 
and  to  remain  secure  in  the  possession  of  their  hunting-grounds 
and  of  their  independence.  Whenever  they  were  disposed  to 
sell  their  lands,  the  government  alone  could  purchase  ;  that  is, 
the  government,  either  of  the  colonies,  or  of  the  mother  coun- 
try, as  the  circumstances  of  the  case  might  be.  This  right  of 
pre-emption,  and  the  cognate  right  of  succeeding  to  the  pos- 
session of  any  portion  of  the  country  which  the  Indians  might 
abandon,  or  where  they  might  become  extinct,  were  claimed 
by  virtue  of  discovery.  All  the  prbcipal  tribes  of  Indians 
agreed,  by  formal  stipulations,  that  they  would  not  alienate 
their  lands,  except  to  the  govemmem. 

Those  who  would  stretch  the  right  of  discovery  to  such  an 
extravagant  extent,  as  not  to  leave  the  Indians  any  rights  at 
all,  allege,  that  the  highest  judicial  tribunal  in  this  country  has 
decided,  that  the  Indians  have  the  occupancy  merely,  while 
the  title  to  the  land  is  in  the  government.  From  this  state- 
ment, the  terms  of  which  seem  not  very  favorable  to  the  In- 
dians, it  is  inferred,  that  the  Indians  have  not,  never  had,  and 
never  can  have,  any  title  to  their  land ;  and,  as  the  supreme 
court  is  jtisdy  and  highly  respected  for  the  correctness  of  its 
decisions,  the  next  inference  is,  that,  in  point  of  morality,  there 
is  no  danger  of  encroaching  upon  Indians,  for  they  have  no 
rights  either  of  person  or  property.  Now  in  this  mterpretation 
of  the  opmion  of  the  court,  there  are  several  great  mistakes. 

As  to  the  title  of  the  European  sovereigns  to  Indian  lands. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  409 

as  gained  by  discovery,  the  court  simply  declares  what  were 
the  claims,  laws,  and  practice,  of  the  mother  country  and  the 
colonies.  The  claims  and  the  practice  were  unifoi'm  to  this 
extent ;  viz.  that  the  natives  could  not  sell  their  land«  to  for* 
eigners,  nor  to  individual  white  men.  Of  course,  the  govern- 
ment could  be  the  only  purchaser,  and  the  only  successor  to 
the  Indian  title.  This  right  of  pre-emption  and  of  succession 
was  caUed  by  the  court  a  seizin  in  fee,  or  an  ultimate  title  ;  it 
bemg  the  only  remaining  tide,  after  the  occupancy  of  the  In- 
dians should  cease.  The  name  given  to  the  right  of  pre-emp- 
tion could  not  in  any  manner  afiect  the  claims  or  the  rights  of 
the  Indians,  so  far  as  the  nature  and  the  extent  of  their  occu- 
pancy were  concerned.  The  court  considered  the  law  to  be 
as  above  described ;  and  of  course  all  judicial  tribunals  were 
bound  so  to  declare  it. 

Not  a  few  persons  have  supposed,  that  the  mere  recognition 
of  the  right  of  discovery,  as  above  described,  was  tantamount 
to  a  declaration,  on  the  part  of  the  court,  that  the  right  of  dis- 
covery, as  claimed  by  European  sovereigns,  even  in  its  great-^- 
est  latitude,  was  reasonable,  equitable,  and  binding  upon  the 
natives.  This  is  a  total  mistake ;  and  it  originated  from  a 
misconception  of  the  proper  functions  of  a  court  of  law.  Such 
a  court  is  bound  to  declare  what  the  law  is,  and  not  what  it 
should  be.  In  every  well  regulated  government,  the  legislative 
power  is  kept  distinct  from  the  judicial ;  and  in  Great  Britain 
and  America,  this  distinction  is  marked  by  plain  and  positive 
rules.  A  court  can  neither  make,  alter,  nor  repeal  a  law ;  nor 
does  the  announcement  of  a  legal  doctrine,  or  of  an  established 
usage  which  the  court  is  bound  to  recognise,  imply  that,  in  the 
opinion  of  the  court,  such  doctrine,  or  such  usage,  was  origin- 
ally wise  and  salutary.  On  the  contrary,  courts  of  law  are  often 
called  to  sustain  and  enforce  particular  acts  of  legislation,  which 
the  judges  would  by  no  means  approve,  if  they  were  called  td 
act  as  legislators. 

It  would  be  a  hard  case,  indeed,  if  our  judges  were  re- 
quired to  sanction,  with  the  weight  of  their  private  character, 
as  moralists,  philanthropists,  and  Christians,  all  the  laws, 
which,  as  parts  of  our  code,  they  are  bound  to  enforce.  Andj 
on  the  other  hand,  the  laws  of  die  country  would  be  in  a  curi- 
ous predicament,  if  they  might  be  set  aside,  that  is,  repealed, 
by  the  court,  whenever  the  judges,  looking  at  them  as  philoso^ 
pfaers  or  legislators,  should  deem  them  unwise  or  inexpedient. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


410  Removal  of  the  Indiant.  [Oct. 

The  slave  trade  funsishes  the  best  possible  illustration  of  the 
subject.  This  trade  was  recognised  as  a  lawful  traffic  by  the 
hignest  courts  of  law  in  England,  for  a  great  length  of  time ; 
and  till  it  was  made  unlawful  by  positive  *  statute.  If  a  case 
bad  occurred  in  this  country,  (and,  for  aught  we  know,  cases 
may  have  occurred,)  it  must  have  been  pronounced  a  lawful 
traffic  here,  at  any  time  previously  to  1808.  The  same  judges, 
who  must  then  have  sustained  it  as  a  legitimate  commerce, 
must  now  declare  it  piracy,  and  sentence  a  man  to  be  hung  for 
engaging  in  it ;  and  yet  the  private  opinion  of  the  judge  as  to 
its  inherent  enormity,  may  not  have  undergone  the  slightest 
change.  Let  it  be  understood,  then,  that  the  judges  of  the 
supreme  court  have  only  decided  what  the  law  is,  respect- 
ing the  right  of  pre-emption  as  founded  upon  discovery; 
but  that  they  have  not  declared  what  they  think  would  have 
been  the  wisest  and  best  manner  of  regulating  this  subject 
originally. 

For  ourselves,  we  have  no  hesitation  in  declaring,  that  we 
consider  the  supposed  right  of  pre-emption  to  be  an  encroach- 
ment upon  the  rights  of  the  Indians.  We  cannot  conceive 
how  the  sailbg  of  an  English  ship  in  sight  of  Cape  Cod  should 
give  the  king  of  England  any  right  to  dictate  to  the  Indians  in 
Massachusetts,  respectmg  the  sde  of  their  lands.  We  there- 
fore hold,  that  these  Indians  might  properly  sell  their  lands  to 
Frenchmen,  or  Spaniards,  although  an  English  vessel  had 
sailed  along  the  coast,  and  seen  it,  before  the  Frenchmen  and 
Spaniards  arrived. 

Having  said  this,  however,  we  feel  bound  to  add,  that  the 
English  government  might  lawfully  prescribe  on  what  terms 
English  subjects  should  purchase  lands  of  Indians;  or  it  might 
forbjid  them  to  purchase  as  mdividuals  at  all.  Great  Britain 
and  France  might  agree,  that  they  would  not  purchase  within 
certain  limits ;  and  such  an  agreement  might  be  a  great  conven*' 
ience  to  the  parties,  while  the  Indians  could  not  justly  com^ 
plain  of  it.  Proceeding  one  step  further,  the  Indians  might 
stipulate  with  the  powers  of  Europe,  that  they  would  not  sell 
their  lands  to  individuals,  but  only  to  the  governments  respect- 
ively, with  which  the  stipulations  were  made.  Conventional 
arrangenients  of  this  sort  might  tend  to  peace,  and  to  the  pro- 
motion of  the  permanent  interests  of  all  parties.  Such,  very 
nearly,  was  the  state  of  thbgs,  at  the  commencement  of  the 
revolutionary  war. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indiwiu.  411 

The  opinion,  which  we  have  expressed,  as  to  the  right  of 

Ere-emption,  seems  to  us  to  be  the  obvious  dictate  of  reason  and 
onesty.  How  can  one  man  assume  the  right  of  prescribing 
in  what  manner  another  man  shall  dispose  of  his  own  property  ? 
And  how  can  there  be  one  rule  of  morality  and  honesty  for 
individuals,  and  another  for  communities  ?  But  we  are  wiUing 
to  fortify  our  opinion  a  little  by  authority.  About  the  middle 
of  the  last  century,  an  English  trader,  by  the  name  of  Trent, 
purchased  of  Indians  a  large  tract  of  land  lying  on  the  Ohio, 
and  delivered  them  a  considerable  quantity  of  goods  in  pay- 
ment. The  deed  was  formally  executed ;  and  the  contract 
was  well  understood  by  the  parties.  The  question  arose, 
whether  this  was  a  valid  purchase,  or  not.  Counsellor  Dagge 
and  Sergeant  Glyn,  two  eminent  English  lawyers,  gave  a  writ- 
ten opinion  in  favor  of  the  validity  of  the  purchase.  They 
founded  their  opinion  on  the  fact,  that  the  Indians  were  the 
original  possessors  and  true  owners  of  the  land.  Of  this  opin- 
ion, dated  in  1755,  Patrick  Henry,  Benjamin  Franklin,  and 
Edmund  Pendleton,  gave  their  written  approbation.  There 
could  be  no  question  that,  so  far  as  the  Indians  were  concern- 
ed, the  sale  was  a  good  one,  they  not  having  at  that  time  en- 
tered into  any  stipulation  with  the  government  not  to  sell  to 
individuals.  The  only  question  seemed  to  be,  whether  Trent 
was  not  prohibited,  by  the  regulations  of  his  own  government, 
from  taking  the  grant.  This  was  setded,  we  believe,  (though 
we  have  not  the  authority  at  hand,)  by  the  formal  assent  of  the 
government  to  the  transaction. 

We  have  already  remarked,  that  the  mere  act  of  buying 
land  of  the  Indians  was,  in  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  an 
acknowledgment  of  their  title.  But  it  is  alleged  against  our 
ancestors,  that  they  obtained  lands  of  the  Indians  at  so  cheap  a 
rate,  that  it  was  no  purchase  at  all ;  that  this  mode  of  acquir- 
ing lands  was  tantamount  to  a  declaration,  that  the  Indians  had 
no  tide,  and  therefore  had  no  claim  to  a  compensation.  These 
positions  have  been  gravely  taken  and  earnestly  defended ; 
and,  as  perhaps  no  subject  has.  been  more  misrepresented  and 
misunderstood,  we  think  it  worth  while  to  spend  a  few  moments 
in  considering  it. 

The  first  settlers,  it  is  said,  gave  the  Indians  for  their  lands 
only  a  few  trifling  articles,  of  little  cost,  and  less  intrinsic  value ; 
therefore  the  Indians  were  not  admitted  to  have  any  title  to 
their  lands,  and  the  contract  was  not  bmding  on  either  party. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


412  Rm^d  of  the  Indiam^  [Oct 

This  is  a  fair  specimen  of  much  of  the  reasoning  on  the  sub- 
ject. 

It  seems  strange,  that  the  purchasers  should  plead,  that  a 
bargain  is  not  binding  on  themselves,  for  the  simple  reason  that 
they  obtained  the  lands  at  too  cheap  a  rate.  One  would  think, 
that  the  other  party  could  demand  to  be  released  from  the 
terms,  with  a  better  grace.  But  is  it  not  a  maxim,  in  all  civil- 
ised countries,  that  a  man  can  give  away  bis  property,  unless 
it  be  charged  widi  the  claims  of  his  creditors?  His  consent, 
fairly  and  deliberately  yielded,  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  a 
transfer  of  his  property.  In  cases  twhere  a  valuable  considera- 
tion i^  necessary,  the  amount  is  not  material.  In  a  conveyance 
of  a  house  and  land,  the  consideration  is  equally  valid,  whether 
it  be  five  dollars  or  fifty  thousand. 

The  great  thing  to  be  obtained  of  the  Indians  was  their  con- 
sent  to  the  settlement  of  their  country  by  whites.  Many  fair 
and  honest  arguments  could  be  used  with  them,  and  were  used 
m  fact,  to  induce  them  to  give  their  consent.  They  were 
treated  altogether  as  reasonable  beings,  and  not  as  brute  ani- 
mals. In  every  part  of  the  continent,  they  showed  themselves 
to  be  possessed  of  a  very  good  share  of  natural  sagacity. 
They  were  told  that  the  settlement  of  Europeans  among  them, 
or  near  them,  would  be  much  for  their  advantage ;  that,  in  this 
way,  they  would  have  a  regular  traffic  secured,  by  which  they 
might  procure  articles  of  essential  value  to  them ;  that  they 
would  thus  greatly  improve  their  condition ;  that  the  British 
king  was  powerful  and  would  defend  them  against  all  foreign 
nations ;  that,  if  they  would  acknowledge  him  as  their  great 
Father,  he  would  regard  them  as  his  children,  and  protect 
them  against  every  species  of  injustice;  and  especially  that 
their  lands  ^uld  not  be  taken  from  them,  or  settled,  without 
their  consent.  These  declarations,  and  many  more  of  the 
same  general  nature,  were  made  to  the  Indians,  all  along  the 
coast.  In  some  instances,  they  were  persuaded  by  these  ar- 
guments, much  more  than  by  the  accompanying  presents. 
They  received  the  whites  as  brothers ;  they  were  proud  of 
them  as  neighbors  and  allies.  The  cases  were  not  few,  in 
which  strong  personal  friendships  were  formed  betweea  the 
red  man  and  the  white ;  friendships,  which  were  maintained 
with  perfect  fidelity  during  the  lives  of  the  parties. 

Now  it  appears  to  us,  that  such  a  consent  is  binding  upoa 
the  Indians ;  smd  that,  if  not  a  farthing  of  property  passed  from 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  413 

one  party  to  the  other,  the  possession  of  the  whites,  thus  obtained, 
is  good  in  law,  in  honor,  and  in  conscience.  Indeed,  if  the 
whites  had  been  hired  to  come  and  settle,  and  the  Indians  had 
given  the  skins  of  all  the  beavers,  which  they  could  catch  in  ten 
years,  as  an  inducement,  the  possession  of  the  whites  would 
not  be  the  less  lawful  on  that  account ;  nor  would  the  tide  of 
the  Indians  to  their  remaining  lands  be  in  the  least  degree  in- 
validated, because  they  had  freely  given  away  a  part,  with 
the  design  of  gaining  kind  and  valuable  neighbors. 

If  the  Indians  had  a  right  to  give  away  their  lands,  they 
surely  had  a  right  to  sell  them  at  a  low  price.  But  there 
was  in  fact,  no  reason  to  complain  of  the  price.  The  settlers 
usually  gave  as  much  for  land  as  it  was  then  worth,  according  to 
any  fair  and  judicious  estimate.  An  Indian  would  sell  a  square 
mile  of  land  for  a  blanket  and  a  jack-knife ;  and  this  would 
appear  to  many  to  be  a  fraudulent  bargain.  It  would,  however, 
by  no  means  deserve  such  an  appellation.  The  knife  alone 
would  add  more  to  the  comfort  of  an  Indian,  and  more  to  his 
wealth,  than  forty  square  miles  of  land,  in  the  actual  circum- 
stances of  the  case.  And  as  to  the  white  purchaser,  the  land 
could  be  of  no  value  to  him,  till  he  had  made  it  of  value  by 
his  own  labor.  It  is  matter  of  history,  that  the  English  colo- 
nists as  a  body,  so  far  as  they  had  property,  were  great  losers 
by  their  settlement  here.  They  were  noble  spirited  men, 
and  property  was  not  their  object ;  if  it  had  been,  they  would 
have  been  egregiously  disappointed.  Not  one  in  a  hundred 
could  have  sold  his  house  and  farm,  (either  ten,  fifteen,  or 
twenty  years  after  the  settlement,)  for  as  much  as  they  had 
cost  him,  at  a  fair  estimate  of  the  labor  bestowed,  without 
reckoning  any  compensation  made  to  tlie  Indian  proprietor. 

It  might  be  curious  to  ask  these  scrupulous  men,  who  say 
that  the  Indians  ought  to  have  received  a  greater  price  for  their 
lands,  How  the  proper  standard  could  be  fixed  ^  Our  ances- 
tors were  not  prophets.  They  were  not  certain  but  that  their 
settlements  would  fail,  as  other  settlements  had  failed  before. 
If  they  should  succeed,  the  settlers  could  not  tell  what  the  in-: 
termediate  difficulties  would  be ;  nor  how  many  reverses  must 
be  experienced  before  they  should  be  successful.  But  suppose 
they  had  been  assured,  when  Boston  was  setded  by  the  pilgrims 
in  1630,  that  laijds  on  Ann-street  would  sell  for  ten  pounds  an 
acre  in  1670  ;  that  lands  on  Washington-street,  between  Sum- 
mer and  Bedford-streets,  would  rise  to  the  same  value  before 

VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  53 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


414  Removal  of  the  Indiam.  [Oct. 

1700;  that  lands  in  the  west  part  of  the  peninsula  would  be 
taken  up  for  building-lots  soon  after  1800  ;  and  that  the  site  of 
an  insurance-office  in  State-street  would  be  sold  for  fifteen 
pounds  a  square  foot  m  1825.  How  would  all  this  affect  the 
price,  which  they  were  bound  to  offer  to  the  Indians  ?  By 
which  of  these  prices  were  they  to  regulate  their  offers  ?  These 
facts,  seen  wkh  absolute  certainty  beforehand,  would  not  have 
proved  that  the  land,  on  which  Boston  has  been  since  built, 
was  worth  a  farthing  in  1630. 

There  are  millions  of  acres  of  land  m  the  Carolinas,  which 
would  not  at  this  moment  be  accepted  as  a  gift ;  and  yet,  as  a 
planter  of  credit  and  character  assured  the  writer  of  this  arti- 
cle, much  of  this  land  will  produce,  with  very  little  labor,  one 
hundred  and  fifty  bushels  of  sweet  potatoes  to  the  acre.  Two 
hundred  years  hence,  it  will  probably  bring  a  hundred  dollars 
an  acre.  Perhaps  some  of  those  kind-hearted  gentlem^ 
who  think  that  our  ancestors  dealt  hardly  by  the  Indians,  in 
giving  them  so  smaD  a  price  for  their  lands,  would  like  to  pur- 
chase some  of  the  best  tracts  on  the  Columbia  river ;  or,  if 
they  prefer  an  inland  district,  some  of  the  best  intervals  near 
the  head  waters  of  the  Yellow  Stone.  These  tracts  are  now 
in  the  possession  of  Indians,  and  if  any  man  thinks  he  ought 
to  give  the  same  price  for  them,  as  he  would  be  obliged  to 
give  the  present  owners  of  lands  on  the  Connecticut,  or  the 
Susquehanna,  for  an  equal  number  of  acres,  he  can  doubtless 
act  accordingly.  The  probability  is,  that  within  two  hundred 
years,  every  acre  of  land  in  North  America,  which  shall  then 
he  capable  of  cultivation,  will  command  a  good  price. 

Dr.  Dwight  has,  somewhere  in  his  travels,  perfectly  vindi- 
cated our  ancestors  from  any  just  imputations  on  this  subject. 
Among  other  facts,  he  mentions  the  followmg — One  of  the  first 
setders  of  Northampton,  a  few  years  after  the  setdement  began, 
wad  the  Indian  title  was  extinct,  made  a  bargain,  in  which 
it  was  left  optional  with  the  other  party  to  take  five  shillings 
or  several  hundred  acres  of  land  in  that  town — the  money  be- 
ing deemed  a  fair  equivalent  for  the  land,  which  was  then  the 
undisputed  property  of  a  white  man.  The  whole  matter  is 
summed  up  by  Dr.  Dwight,  in  the  very  sensible  and  forcible 
remark,  that  land  in  .Ajnerica,  when  our  fathers  first  came 
hither,  *  was  like  water,  too  abtrndant  to  he  the  subject  of 
price.^ 

Perhaps  it  will  be  asked,  if  land  was  so  abundant  as  not  to 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


18S0.]  Removal  of  the  Indiane.  41$ 

be  the  subject  of  price^  how  could  there  be  asy  title  to  it  ?  and 
why  might  it  oot  be  taken  from  the  possessors  without  tiieir 
consent  ?  We  answer,  that  the  abundance  of  a  thing  has  noth- 
ing to  do  with  the  title  to  it.  A  man  worth  a  million  of  money 
has  as  good  a  title  to  the  last  dollar  as  to  the  first,  though  A 
very  small  part  is  necessary  for  the  comfortable  support  of  his^ 
family.  The  master  of  a  foreign  vessel,  anchoring  in  the  rivet 
Thames,  fills  his  water-casks  without  asking  permis»on,  or 
making  compensation.  Does  it  follow,  that  the  waters  of  the 
Thames  are  of  no  value  to  the  British  pec^le,  and  that  thd 
government  has  no  jurisdiction  over  that  river?  When  this 
continent  was  first  setded,  a  few  square  miles  of  land  were  of 
little  consequence  to  the  Indians;  but  it  does  not  follow^  that 
after  all  the  most  eligible  parts  of  the  continent  have  passed 
into  the  possession  of  the  whites,  the  small  remnants  of  good 
land  now  inhabited  by  the  original  pmprietors  are  without  value 
to  them ;  much  less,  that  they  have  no  title  to  their  land,  be- 
cause it  is  alleged  to  have  been  formerly  of  no  valuer  Th^ 
reason  why  land,  in  the  possession  of  Indians,  was  formerly  of 
little  value,  has  long  ceased  to  exist.  Then,  if  they  sold  a 
tract,  they  had  interminable  regions  remaining;  now,  they 
have  not  enough  left  to  enable  them  to  keep  their  community 
separate  from  the  whites.  As  the  quantity  in  their  possession 
has  diminished,  its  value  has  become  enhanced  as  a  matter  of 
course.  But  neither  the  diminution  of  quantity,  nor  the  ear 
hancement  of  value,  has  any  thing  to  do  with  the  validity  of 
the  title. 

Unless  we  greatly  deceive  ourselves,  the  candid  reader  of 
the  preceding  pages  will  agree  with  us  in  the  following  co&clu-* 
sions ;  viz. 

That  the  original  possessors  of  this  contment  bad  a  perieet 
title  to  such  parts  of  it  as  were  in  their  actual  possession,  when 
it  was  discovered  by  Europeans; 

That  whether  thisr  title  were  recognised  or  not  by  English 
kings,  or  English  courts  of  law,  it  should  now  be  aUow^  in 
the  fullest  manner,  by  every  correct  moralist  and  every  states- 
man; 

That  although  discovery  gave  a  right  to  take  possession  of 
unoccupied  parts  of  this  continent,  it  gave  no  ri^t  whatever 
to  dispossess  the  natives  of  any  lands,  which  were  knpwn  U> 
be  theirs,  whether  used  for  huntmg,  fishmg,  pasturagis,  miabg, 
agriculture,  or  any  other  purpose ; 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


416  Removal  of  the  Indians.  [Oct. 

That  the  consent  of  the  natives  was  necessary,  before  the 
whites  could  take  lawful  possession  of  Indian  lands ; 

That  aldiough  the  kings  of  Europe  might  agree  among 
themselves  as  to  the  limits  within  which  they  would  purchase 
lands  of  the  Indians,  and  might  prescribe  to  their  subjects,  re- 
spectively, the  manner  in  which  purchases  should  be  made ; 
yet  that  the  Indians  were  not  bound  by  any  of  these  measures, 
till  they  had  voluntarily  assented  to  them ; 

That  the  Indians,  like  all  other  people,  are  competent  to 
bind  their  respective  communities  by  compacts  or  treaties ; 

That,  whatever  doctrmes  may  have  been  asserted  in  theory, 
the  practice  of  the  early  settlers,  and  of  those  who  succeeded 
them,  were  based  upon  the  foregoing  principles ;  and 

That,  previously  to  the  American  revolution,  the  right  of  the 
Indians  to  the  peaceable  occupation  of  their  own  country,  till 
they  should  voluntarUy  relinquish  it,  was  fully  admitted  by  the 
government  of  the  mother  country  and  of  the  colonies,  and 
was  sustained  by  the  deliberate  opinion  of  some  of  the  ablest 
men  of  the  age. 

But  if  we  were  to  admit,  that  Indians  had  no  right  to  their 
own  lands  when  this  continent  was  discovered,  and  that  they 
were  to  be  considered  as  without  the  pale  of  human  society, 
and  to  be  hunted  down  as  buffaloes  and  bears,  it  by  no  means 
foUows,  that  their  character  and  relations  would  remam  the 
same,  after  the  white  settlers  had  entered  into  friendly  engage- 
ments with  them.  This,  vi  point  of  fact,  was  always  done  by 
the  setders,  at  the  earliest  practicable  moment.  The  language 
of  the  whites  to  the  Indians  was,  *  we  are  brethren,  children  of 
the  same  Almighty  Lord  and  Father  of  all.  We  have  come 
to  do  you  good.  We  wish  to  live  in  peace  with  you.  As  you 
have  much  land,  will  you  not  grant  us  a  little,  and  admit  us 
into  your  neighborhood?'  The  Indians  answered,  though 
sometimes  witli  hesitation  and  fear,  *you  may  settle  by  our 
side,  and  you  may  have  land  within  certain  limits.'  Com- 
pacts of  this  kind  were  made  between  the  first  settlers 
and  the  Indians,  along  the  whole  line  of  the  Adantic  coast. 
From  the  moment,  in  which  they  were  made,  whatever  the 
respective  rights  of  the  parties  might  have  been  previously,  the 
question  of  lawful  title  should  have  been  considered  as  forever 
settled.  The  Europeans  had  chosen  to  regard  the  red  men  as 
human  beings,  and  not  as  bufialoes  and  bears.  They  had  ad- 
dressed them  as  reasonable  bemgs,  and  found  them  accessible 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  417 

to  motives,  and  susceptible  of  love  and  hatred,  hope  and  fear, 
gratitude  and  generosity.  They  had  proposed  friendly  rela- 
tions, and  their  proposal  had  been  accepted.  They  had  ad- 
mitted a  title  in  the  original  possessors,  by  accepting  grants 
from  them  ;  and,  by  agreeing  upon  limits,  they  acknowledged 
the  title  of  the  Indians  to  all  lands  not  purchased  from  them. 
No  conclusion  can  be  safer,  or  more  unquestionable  than  that 
the  bare  assignment  of  limits  between  communities,  widi  the 
declaration,  reciprocally  made,  ttie  land  on  this  side  belongs 
to  us^  on  the  other  side  to  you,  is  an  acknowledgment  of  a  per- 
fect title. 

Not  only  is  this  the  natural  meaning  of  the  act,  but,  in  the 
first  settlements  of  this  country,  it  was  often  and  solemnly  eay 
pressed  as  the  meaning ;  and  no  other  meaning  was  ever  as- 
signed to  it.  Now  with  what  face  could  the  colonists,  after 
having  obtained  a  settlement  in  this  manner,  turn  round  upon 
the  Indians,  and  say,  '  you  had  no  right  to  the  land  you  granted 
to  us ;  and  you  have  none  to  the  remainder  ?  We  shall  take 
the  whole.' 

When  the  revolutionary  war  commenced,  the  colonists  had 
reason  to  be  apprehensive,  that  the  Indians  would  be  employed 
against  them  by  the  mother  country.  To  the  Indians  our 
fathers  were  no  strangers.  Their  modes  of  warfare,  their  his- 
tory, their  competency  to  enter  into  contracts,  their  claims  to 
territory,  were  well  known.  With  this  perfect  knowledge  of 
their  rights  and  their  character,  the  first  Congress,  more  than  a 
year  before  the  declaration  of  independence,  directed  <  proper 
talks  to  be  prepared  for  the  several  tribes  of  Indians,  with  a 
view  to  engage  their  contmued  friendship,  and  their  neutrality 
in  the  unhappy  dispute  with  Great  Britain.'  In  September, 
1775,  a  treaty  with  the  Six  Nations  was  reported  to  Congress, 
and  various  resolutions  were  passed,  all  having  for  their  object 
the  maintenance  of  friendship  with  the  Indian  tribes,  as  inde- 

Eendent  sovereignties.  In  March,  1776,  it  was  resolved,  '  diat 
[idians  should  not  be  employed  as  soldiers,  in  the  armies  of 
the  United  Colonies,  before  the  tribes  to  which  they  belong 
should,  in  a  national  council,  held  in  the  customary  manner, 
have  consented  thereunto  ;  nor  then,  without  the  express  ap- 

Erobation  of  Congress.'  A  more  honorable  stand  could  not 
ave  been  taken  by  this  most  illustrious  body.  The  national 
rights  of  die  Indians  were  acknowledged  in  the  fullest  and  yet 
the  most  delicate  manner.     Congress  was  not  willbg  that 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


418  Removal  of  the  Indians.  [Oct. 

tribes  should  be  exposed  to  retaliatioD  and  injury,  on  account 
of  the  acts  of  individuals ;  nor  diat  they  should  be  drawn  into 
a  war  without  time  for  deliberation,  or  without  their  consent. 

In  October,  1777,  it  was  resolved,  *  that  it  be  earnestly  re- 
commended to  the  President  and  Assembly  of  the  State  of 
Georgia  to  use  their  utmost  exertions  to  cultivate  peace  and 
harmony  with  the  Indian  ncUions.^  The  next  year,  a  treaty 
was  formed  with  the  Delaware  Indians,  by  which  the  parties 
bound  themselves  to  perpetual  peace  and  friend^p,  and  to  an 
affiance  offensive  and  defensive.  The  United  States  <  guaran- 
tied to  the  Delaware  nation  all  its  territorial  rights,  in  the 
fuQesi  and  most  ample  manner,  as  k  hath  been  bounded  by 
ibrmei  treaties,  as  long  as  the  said  Delaware  nation  shall  hold 
fast  the  chain  of  friendship.'  Here  is  an  instance  of  a  solenan 
guarairty  to  an  Indian  nation,  given  in  the  extremest  crisis  of 
our  nation's  peril,  and  therefore  under  circiunstances,  which 
tendered  it  doubly  sacred. 

The  transactions  of  the  revolutionary  Congress,  in  relation 
to  the  Indians,  were  very  numerous ;  and  they  were  all  regu- 
lated by  the  principle,  that  Indian  tribes  were  distinct  commu- 
mttes,  and  had  a  perfect  right  to  their  territory,  and  to  their 
own  forms  of  government. 

By  the  articles  of  confederation,  all  public  intercourse  with 
the  Indian  tribes  was  made  a  national  concern  ;  and  the  several 
States  thus  relinquished  to  the  United  States  the  right  of  mak- 
ing treaties  with  these  tribes. 

.  In  1785,  the  treaty  of  Hopewell  was  formed  between  the 
United  States  and  the  Cberokees.  By  this  compact,  peace 
was  made,  boundaries  were  fixed,  and  permanent  relations 
established  between  the  parties.  The  Cherokees  consented 
to  come  under  the  protection  of  the  United  States,  and  of  no 
other  sovereign.  Prisoners  were  exchanged;  and  it  was 
agreed  that  no  future  acts  of  retaliation  should  take  place,  un- 
less in  the  event  of  a  manifest  violation  of  this  treaty ;  and 
then,  not  till  after  a  demand  of  justice,  and  a  declaration  of 
hostilities.  Intrudmg  whites  were  abandoned  to  the  Indians  to 
be  punished  according  to  their  discretion ;  and  criminals,  tak- 
ing refuge  in  the  Indian  country,  were  to  be  delivered  up  to 
die  United  States  for  punishment. 

From  a  mere  reference  to  these  topics  it  is  manifest,  that 
the  natbnal  character  of  the  Cherokees  was  admitted  b  the 
foUest  sense ;  and  that  there  was  an  implied  guaranty  of  their 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  419 

territory,  inasmuch  as  definite  boundaries  were  fixed,  and 
white  men  were  fi>rbidden  to  transgress  them.  Against  this 
treaty  North  Carolba  and  Georgia  protested,  on  the  ground 
diet  It  was  an  exercise  of  power  by  the  United  States,  not  con- 
fided to  them  by  the  articles  of  confederation.  The  whole 
difficulty  arose  from  different  constructions  given  to  the  follow- 
ing sentence,  in  one  of  the  articles :  *  The  United  States,  in 
Congress  assembled,  shall  have  die  sole  and  exclusive  right  of 
regulating  ihe  trade  and  managing  all  afi[airs  with  the  Indians, 
not  members  of  any  of  the  States,  provided  that  die  legislative 
right  of  any  State  within  its  own  limits  be  not  infringed  or  vio- 
lated.' The  '  afiiiirs'  of  the  Indians  here  intended  are  shown 
by  contemporary  history  and  legislation  to  have  been  their 
public  affairs,  or  their  intercourse  with  the  whites.  There  is 
not  tlie  slightest  reason  to  suppose,  that  it  had  any  reference  to 
die  laws,  customs  and  usages  of  the  Indians  among  themselves. 
Some  of  the  bdian  tribes  had  been  broken  up,  or  dissolved, 
and  the  individuals  were  either  setded  among  the  whites,  or 
wandered  about  without  any  fixed  residence.  By  '  Indians, 
not  members  of  any  of  the  States,'  were  probably  intended 
all  the  tribes,  which  remained  upon  their  original  territory, 
and  in  their  original  independence.  The  exact  meanmg 
of  the  proviso  it  seems  not  very  easy  to  ascertain.  It 
may  have  been  this :  viz.  that  it  was  not  the  design  of  die 
parties  to  these  articles  to  restrain  the  legislative  right  of  any 
State  in  regard  to  the  Indians,  but  rather  to  leave  the  proper 
extent  of  diis  right  to  be  afterwards  ascertained.  In  point  of 
fact,  the  several  States  had  never  exercised  any  right  of  legis- 
lation over  Indians  residing  within  fixed  limits,  upon  their  origi- 
nal territory.  This  had  not  been  done,  even  in  the  oldest 
States,  in  reference  to  any  considerable  body  of  Indians, 
diough  several  communities  of  this  kind  had  been  surrounded 
by  white  setdements,  and  were  clearly  included  widiin  the  ex- 
ternal limits  of  States.  By  every  sound  rule  of  construction, 
9l  proviso  should  not  be  so  interpreted  as  to  make  the  principal 
clause  inoperative,  unless  such  an  interpretation  be  unavoida- 
ble. But  as  the  chartered  limits  of  die  several  States  em* 
braced  all  the  territory  within  the  United  States,  it  is  evident, 
that  the  framers  of  the  articles  of  confederation  must  have 
supposed,  that  there  were  Indians  within  the  United  States,  not 
members  of  the  several  States,  nor  subject  to  State  legislation. 
As  a  controversy  existed,  in  regard  to  the  disposition,  which 


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420  Removal  of  the  Indians.  [Oct. 

should  be  made  of  unappropriated  lands,  it  is  probable  that 
much  difficulty  was  experienced  in  framing  the  article  now 
under  consideration.  Mr.  Madison,  in  the  Federalist,  de- 
clared it  to  be  '  obscure  and  contradictory,'  and  expressed  his 
gratification  that  nothing  like  it  had  been  introduced  into  the 
constitution. 

The  protest  of  North  Carolina  and  Georgia  was  referred  to 
a  committee  of  Congress.  Ai^  elaborate  report  was  made  in 
support  of  the  power  of  the  general  government,  as  it  had 
been  exercised  in  the  treaty  of  Hopewell ;  and  that  treaty 
went  into  full  effect. 

It  should  be  understood,  that  these  two  States  did  not  as- 
sume the  positions  now  taken,  that  Indian  tribes  are  not  com- 
petent to  make  treaties;  that  treaties  made  with  them  are 
not  binding;  and  that  the  several  States  may  extend  their 
laws  over  &e  Indians  without  their  consent.  The  controversy 
was  on  the  single  point,  whether  treaties 'should  be  made  with 
the  Indian  tribes  by  the  United  States ;  or  by  separate  States 
with  the  tribes  within  their  respective  chartered  limits.  The 
State  of  Georgia  was  particularly  desirous  to  make  contracts 
with  the  Indians  for  the  acquisition  of  their  lands,  without  any 
restraint  from  the  United  States.  But  the  committee  of  Con- 
gress, to  whom  the  protest  was  referred,  argued,  that  all  public 
relations  with  the  Indians  are  strictly  a  national  concern ;  and 
that,  as  the  nation  was  called  upon  to  conduct  wars  with  the 
Indians,  it  was  necessary  that  treaties  should  be  made  under 
no  other  authority  than  that  of  the  United  States. 

When  the  constitution  was  formed,  the  treaty-making  power 
was  expressly  given  to  the  general  government,  and  expressly 
inhibited  to  the  several  States.  J&y  the  same  instrument, 
Congress  was  invested  with  power  *  to  regulate  commerce  with 
foreign  nations,  and  among  the  several  States,  and  with  the 
Indian  tribes.'  All  treaties  then  in  existence,  and  aU  treaties, 
which  should  be  made  thereafter,  were  declared  to  be  the  su- 
preme law  of  the  land,  paramount  to  all  State  laws  and  con- 
stitutions. No  dispensing  power  was  given  to  any  branch  of 
the  government,  nor  to  all  the  branches  united.  The  reason 
is  obvious.  No  treaty  can  be  dispensed  with,  or  set  aside,  by 
one  of  the  parties.  If  the  terms  of  a  treaty  are  burdensome, 
relief  must  be  sought  by  negotiation.  There  is  no  other 
way,  except  by  an  appeal  to  arms. 

When  the  meaning  and  effect  of  treaties  come  under  judicial 


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1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  421 

investigation,  the  courts  of  the  United  States  are  the  tribunals, 
to  which  this  duty  is  assigned  by  the  constitution.  Hence  an 
opinion  has  arisen,  and  has  sometimes  been  expressed  by  gen- 
tlemen of  respectability,  that  the  supreme  court  of  the  United 
States  might  declare  a  treaty  void,  on  the  ground  that  it  is  un- 
constitutional. But  the  court  is  invested  with  no  such  power. 
It  might  as  weU  declare  one  part  of  the  constitution  void,  on 
the  ground  that  it  is  inconsistent  with  some  other  part,  as  a 
treaty  void,  because  it  transcends  the  powers  of  government. 
It  must  be  taken  for  granted,  that  the  framers  of  our  constitu- 
tion made  a  plan,  the  parts  of  which  are  not  inconsistent  with 
each  other.  At  any  rate,  if  there  be  an  inconsistency,  the 
people  of  the  United  States  must  remove  it.  In  like  manner, 
if  the  President  and  Senate  make  a  treaty,  it  must  be  taken 
for  granted  that  they  have  not  transcended  Uieir  powers.  The 
treaty-making  power  involves  all  the  high  attributes  of  sove- 
reignty. The  framers  of  the  constitution  manifestly  intended 
to  lodge  this  power  in  safe  hands.  If  'they  committed  a  mis- 
take, the  people  can,  by  an  amendment  of  the  constitution, 
make  a  different  disposition  of  it.  Treaties  are,  in  their  na- 
ture, transactions  of  a  higher  character,  than  constitutions  of 
internal  government.  The  whole  human  family  is  interested 
in  securing  the  faithful  observance  of  engagements  between 
nations ;  and  this  interest  greatly  increases,  if  one  of  the  par- 
ties be  weak  and  the  other  strong.  Such  nations  as  England, 
France,  Russia,  and  the  United  States,  can  take  care  of  their 
own  interests ;  but,  if  the  sanctity  of  treaties  is  to  be  violated, 
how  is  it  possible  that  the  weak  should  ever  be  protected  ? 

Questions  as  to  the  meaning  of  treaties  may  often  arise ; 
and  they  must  often  be  decided,  so  far  as  they  affect  individu- 
als, at  least,  by  some  tribunal  known  to  the  laws.  But  to  say 
that  a  particular  branch  of  the  government  of  one  nation  can 
set  euide  a  treaty,  in  which  another  nation  is  interested,  is  alto- 
gether preposterous.  Were  a  question  to  arise  between  France 
and  England,  as  to  the  validity  of  a  treaty,  would  England  be 
satisfied  with  having  the  matter  decided  by  the  French  court 
of  cassation,  or  France  with  a  judgment  of  the  court  of  king's 
bench  in  Westminster-Hall  ? 

One  of  the  first  objects  of  attention,  after  the  organization  of 
the  general  government  under  the  constitution,  was  our  public 
relations  witfi  the  Indians.  With  the  Creeks,  occupying  the 
region  which  now  forms  the  central  and  south-western  parts  of 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  69.  64 


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432  Rmmd  of  the  hiiUnu.  [Odt 

the  aute  (tf  Geoi^t  no  nationtl  treatf  bad  then  faces  nmiit. 
They  stood  in  a  veiy  threatening  poilnre,  in  the  yicinhy  of 
white  settlements.  Thejr,  with  the  aid  of  the  oeigUionng 
tribes,  could  bring  fourteen  thousand  warriors  into  the  fidd. 
A  quarter  of  that  number  would  hare  been  sufficient  to  keep 
the  new  settlers  in  a  state  of  consternation,  through  an  extent  of 
five  hundred  miles  on  the  frontier. 

During  the  first  session  of  the  first  congress  under  the  con- 
stitution, viz.  on  the  twenty-secood  of  August,  1789,  the  Presi- 
dent of  the  United  States,  attended  by  General  Knox,  came 
into  the  Senate,  and  kid  befwe  that  body  a  statement  of  facts, 
proposing  sereral  questions  for  their  advice  and  consent 
Among  these  questions  was  the  folbwing:  ^Whether  the 
Uni|ed  States  shall  solemnly  guaranty  to  the  Creeks  their  rc- 
maming  territory,  and  maintain  the  same,  if  necessary,  by  a 
line  of  military  posts  ?'  This  question  was  answ^ed  by  the 
Senate  in  the  affirmative ;  and  necessary  fiinds  were  ordered, 
at  the  discretion  of  the  President* 

In  pursuance  of  this  advice  and  consent  of  the  Senate,  three 
distinguished  men  were  appointed  commissioners  to  treat  with 
the  Creeks ;  but,  for  reasons  which  we  are  not  able  to  state, 
the  negotiation  was  not  successful.  The  next  year,  twenty- 
four  Creek  chiefs  were  induced  to  visit  New-York,  which  was 
then  the  seat  of  government*  A  treaty  was  here  negotiated 
by  the  secretary  of  war,  under  the  knmediate  eye  of  General 
Washington.  It  was  authenticated  with  uncommon  solemnity, 
and  appears  to  have  been  ratified  by  a  unanimous  vole  of  the 
Senate*  The  fifth  article  is  in  these  words:  'The  United 
States  solemnly  guaranty  to  the  Creek  nation  all  their  lands 
within  the  limits  of  the  United  States,  to  the  westward  and 
southward  of  the  boundary  described  by  the  preceding  article*' 
It  is  impossible  for  any  fair  and  honcnrable  mind  to  doabt  as  to 
the  meaning  of  this  stipulaticm ;  and  dierefore  we  will  not  de- 
tain our  readers  with  any  remarks  upon  iL 

On  the  1 1th  of  August,  1790,  General  Washington,  as  Pres- 
ident of  the  United  States,  transmitted  to  the  Senate  a  special 
message,  on  the  suUect  of  our  relations  with  the  Cherokees. 
This  was  four  days  after  the  treaty  with  the  Creeks  was  signed, 
during  which  interval  it  had  been  ratified*  In  the  message,  the 
treaty  just  formed  was  alluded  to  as  *  the  main  foundation  of 
the  future  peace  and  prosperity  of  the  south-western  irootier.' 
The  President  insists,  however,  upon  the  necessity  of  having 


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1830.]  RemMol  (fthe  Indians.  423 

*  the  treaties  with  the  other  tribes  ia  that  quarter  jfa«^A/k£^|?er- 
farmed  on  our  part.'  He  reminds  the  Senate,  that  the  Chero* 
kees,  by  the  treaty  of  Hopewell,  had  placed  themselves  under 
tiie  prolecticm  of  the  United  States ;  that  the  whites  had  sub- 
sequently intruded  upon  the  Indians ;  and  that  Congiess,  in 
S^tember,  1786,  had  forbidden  such  unwammtable  intru- 
sions. He  announces  his  determination  to  exert  the  powers 
intrusted  to  him  by  the  constitution,  in  order  to  carry  into 
faithful  execution  the  treaty  of  Hopewell,  and  concludes  his 
i^mmunication  with  the  following  question  :  <  Shall  the  United 
Sutes  stipulate  solemnly  to  guaranty  the  new  boundary,  which 
may  be  arranged  ?'  The  Senate,  by  a  resolution  in  almost  the 
same  words  as  the  question,  ^  advised  and  consented  solemnly 
to  guaranty  the  new  boundary.' 

The  President  fidlowed  this  advice  ;  and  the  treaty  of  Hoi- 
ston  was  formed,  July  2,  1791,  by  the  seventh  article  of  which, 
^  the  United  States  solemnly  guaranty  to  the  Cherokee  nation 
aS  iheir  lands  not  hereby  ceded.'  The  treaty  of  Hcdston  is 
tlie  basis  (tf  all  subsequent  negotiations.  In  the  first  treaty  of 
Telltco,  which  was  formed  under  the  administration  of  the  elder 
jAdanis,  the  United  States  stiptilate,  that  diey  <  will  continue 
the  guaranty  of  the  Cherokee  counti'y  forever,  as  made  and 
contained  in  former  treaties.'  Regular  treaties,  negotiated  by 
commissioners  with  full  powers,  and  all  duly  ratified  by  the 
Senate,  were  mad0  with  the  Cherokees  during  every  adminis- 
tration, down  to  that  of  Mr.  Monroe,  inclusive.  There  are  fif- 
teen of  these  most  formal  and  solemn  compacts.  During  all 
the  period  which  has  intervened  since  the  date  of  the  treaty 
of  Hopewell,  there  has  been  constant  intercourse  widi  these 
tribes,  by  letters  from  the  President  and  the  war  department, 
s»d  by  agents  residing  among  the  Indians,  as  organs  of  commu- 
nioatbn  with  them.  All  diese  transactions  have  been  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  principles  announced  by  General  Washington, 
and  recognised  by  his  successors.  The  Indians  were  always 
made  to  understand,  that  their  territory  was  to  remain  inviolate, 
miless  they  fi"eely  consented  to  part  with  it. 

The  intercourse<^ws  have  all  proceeded  upon  the  same 
principles,  intrusion  upon  Indian  lands  is  forbidden  under 
heavy  penalties,  whieh  are  graduated  according  to  the  design 
of  (he  intrader.  Those  acts  which  would  indicate  ownersliip, 
or  whieh  would  alarm  the  Indians  with  the  apprehension  of  a 
elftim,  are  visited  with  peculiar  severity.    In  the  treaties,  and 


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424  Bemovalof  the  Indians.  [Oct 

in  the  laws,  there  are  numerous  provisions  in  relation  to  infe- 
rior subjects,  which  imply  that  the  Indians  had  a  government 
of  their  own,  that  was  to  continue  permanently ;  and  there  is 
not  a  syUable,  which  has  the  most  distant  implication  that  the 
United  States,  or  any  separate  state,  claimed,  or  ever  would 
claim,  the  right  of  legislating  over  the  Indians,  or  exercising 
any  power  over  them,  not  expressly  given  in  the  treaties. 
The  last  compact  with  the  Cherokees,  except  one,  was  nego- 
tiated by  General  Jackson  in  1817.  The  preamble  states, 
that  a  part  of  the  Cherokees  wished  to  remove  beyond  the 
Mississippi,  and  a  part  wished  to  remain.  The  design  of  the 
transaction  was  to  promote  the  views  of  both  parties,  and  to 
give  both  an  *  assurance  of  our  patronage,  our  aid,  and  good 
neighborhood.'  It  was  expressly  stated,  that  those  who  re- 
mained were  desirous  of '  beginning  the  establishment  of  fixed 
laws  and  a  regular  government.' 

Mr.  Calhoun  negotiated  the  last  treaty  with  the  Cherokees, 
in  1819.  The  preamble  declares,  in  effect,  that  the  Chero- 
kees as  a  body  wished  to  remain  on  the  land  of  their  fathers, 
with  a  view  to  their  national  preservation.  It  is  implied,  that 
the  treaty  was  made  to  secure  that  distinct  object.  By  the 
fourth  article,  a  permanent  school  fund  is  created,  which  is  ex- 
pressly appropriated  '  to  difiuse  the  benefits  of  education  among 
the  Cherokee  nation  on  this  side  of  the  Mississippi.^  The 
next  article  extends  the  intercourse-law  over  the  Cherokees,  as 
a  permanent  protection ;  which,  therefore,  can  never  be  re- 
pealed, as  to  the  Cherokees,  without  their  consent. 

We  have  thus  drawn  a  hasty  outline  of  the  principal  stipula- 
tions, by  which  the  integrity  of  the  Cherokee  country  is  guaran- 
tied, and  the  rights  of  the  inhabitants  secured.  What  other  com- 
munity is  there  on  earth,  that  can  show  so  many  muniments 
erected  for  its  defence,  within  the  short  perbd  of  forty-five 
years  ?  What  other  community  can  show  such  a  current  of 
public  transactions,  all  running  with  an  irresistible  tide  in  the 
same  direction,  and  without  meeting  with  any  obstacle,  that 
could  make  even  a  ripple  ?  With  what  other  people  have  the 
United  States  ever  entered  into  stipulaticms,  after  so  much  con- 
sideration, and  under  circumstances  of  the  same  solemnity  ? 
The  father  of  his  country,  soon  after  he  was  inducted  mto  the. 
office  of  chief  magistrate  of  the  United  States,  distinctly  m- 
quired  of  the  Senate,  whether  they  would  advise  him  to  ofier 
a  solemn  guaranty  of  their  country  to  the  Creeks.  Being  an-> 
swered  in  the  affirmative,  the  guaranty  was  made  as  soon  after- 


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1 830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  425 

wards  as  a  treaty  could  be  negotiated.  A  year  had  elapsed, 
however,  and  tlie  Senate  was  called  upon  to  ratify  the  guaranty, 
which  it  had  advised.  This  was  done  unanimously.  The 
President  then  began  a  similar  course  in  regard  to  the  Chero- 
kees.  The  same  guaranty  was  proposed,  given,  and  ratified } 
and,  during  the  progress  of  these  transactions,  another  year 
had  elapsed.  Thus,  during  the  first  Congress  under  the  fed- 
eral constitution,  the  question  of  guaranty  was  distinctly  before 
the  Senate,  at  least  four  times;  and  it  was  indirectly  before 
that  body,  when  commissioners  were  appointed ;  and  probably 
on  other  occasions.  The  Senate  was  composed,  in  great  part, 
of  the  very  men,  who  had  been  members  of  the  convention,  by 
which  the  constitution  was  formed.  It  is  incredible,  that  they 
should  mistake  the  meaning  of  that  instrument,  on  so  important 
a  subject.  The  same  guaranty  has  been  implicitly  ratified  in 
every  subsequent  compact.  The  terms  of  the  stipulations  are 
perfectly  inteUigible,  so  that  there  is  no  room  for  doubt,  or 
cavil.  If  the  United  States  are  not  bound  by  these  engage- 
ments, how  is  it  possible  for  a  nation  to  bind  itself?  and  how  is 
it  possible  for  a  weak  party  to  know,  whether  its  rights  are  to 
be  protected,  or  not?  or  rather,  how  much  reason  is  there  to 
fear,  that  a  weak  party  has  no  rights,  and  that  the  law  of  force 
must  always  prevail  ? 

It  is  admitted  by  some,  that  were  it  not  for  other  obligations, 
by  which  the  United  States  are  bound  to  the  several  members 
of  the  Union,  these  treaties  with  the  Indians  would  hold  us  as 
a  nation.  They  suppose,  that  the  obligations  to  the  several 
states  are  prior  to  these  treaties  with  the  Indian  tribes.  But, 
after  all  that  has  been  said  and  written  on  this  subject,  we  have 
not  seen  the  slightest  evidence,  that  there  are  any  incompatible 
obligations.  Every  treaty  with  every  Indian  tribe  may,  unless 
we  are  greatly  mistaken,  be  fulfilled  to  the  very  letter ;  and 
yet  no  engagement,  either  express  or  implied,  now  in  existence 
between  the  United  States  and  any  separate  state,  or  any  com- 
munity, or  individual,  would  be  in  the  least  danger  of  violation. 

The  claims  of  Georgia,  under  the  compact  of  1802,  are 
supposed  to  form  the  strongest  case  of  incompatible  obliga- 
tions ;  .and  we  admit  that  these  claims  have  been  so  repre- 
sented, as  to  puzzle  some  intelligent  minds.  If  fairly  stated, 
however,  they  furnish  no  occasion  for  doubt  or  embarrassment, 
on  the  part  of  the  general  gdvemment,  or  of  complaint  on  the 
part  of  Georgia.  '  ,     .  .     . 


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426  lUmoval  of  the  Indians.  [Oct. 

It  is  contended,  hj  the  advocates  of  Georgia,  that  the  decla- 
ration of  independence,  sustained  by  the  revolutionary  war, 
mid  confirmed  by  the  peace  of  1783,  vested  in  that  state  all 
the  rights  of  the  British  king  to  the  land  within  its  chartered 
limits ;  and  that  the  United  States  have  guarantied  to  each 
state  all  its  rights  of  territory  and  government.  The  United 
States  were,  therefore,  at  the  date  of  the  treaty  of  Hopewell, 
bound  to  Georgia  by  an  obligation  incompatible  with  the  terms 
of  that  treaty.  This  being  the  case,  the  first  obligation  must 
remam  inviolate,  and  compensation  must  be  made  for  the  vio- 
lation of  the  second. 

Upon  this  statement,  we  cannot  help  remarking,  that,  if  true, 
it  is  a  most  humiliating  one.  The  articles  of  confederatioii 
were  considered  and  adopted  by  the  wisest  men,  whom  the 
country  was  able  to  send  to  Congress,  in  (he  brightest  period 
of  our  history.  Our  relatbns  with  the  Indians  were  fixed  by 
the  same  men,  at  the  same  period.  Both  subjects  were  in  the 
highest  degree  interesting  to  the  whole  country.  On  the  course 
which  should  be  pursued  toward  the  aborigines,  depended  in  a 
considerable  degree  our  national  character,  and  the  freedom  of 
the  frontier  frcnn  the  terrible  and  protracted  calamity  of  an  Indian 
war.  And  yet,  with  all  these  mighty  interests  at  stake,  they 
entered  deliberately  into  clashing  and  contradictory  engage- 
ments. If  they  did  tiiis,  they  must  have  made  false  represent- 
ations to  the  Indians,  on  subjects  of  vitd  impcMtance.  They 
must  have  pretended  to  exercise  powers  which  they  did  not 
possess;  and,  under  the  pretence  of  giving  an  equivalent, 
which  they  had  no  power  to  give,  and  for  the  loss  of  which 
Aey  cannot  make  indemnity,  must  have  obtained,  from  the 
poor,  deluded,  sufifering  Indians,  terms  of  great  value  to  the 
iJnited  States,  and  especially  to  the  people  on  the  firontier. 

It  is  a  great  mistake,  however,  to  suppose,  that  the  worthies 
of  the  revolution  committed  an  «rror  so  lid^  in  accordance 
with  their  general  character,  and  of  such  disastrous  issue  to  the 
Indian  nations.  Nodiing  but  the  most  positive  stipulations,  ab- 
solutely irreconcilable  to  each  other,  should  make  us  wiHing  to 
admit  the  existence  of  such  an  error.  We  need  not  be  alarmed 
for  the  reputation  of  our  most  eminent  i^atesmen.  There  is  not 
even  an  apparent  discrepancy  between  the  stipulations,  either 
express  or  implied,  of  the  states  among  themselves,  and  thenr 
united  stipulations,  as  one  party,  with  Uie  Indians  as  another. 

As  to  the  succession  of  Georgia  to  the  rights  of  the  British 


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1830.]  Remotal  of  the  Indians.  4^7 

kii^y  it  was  settled  before  the  revolution,  that  the  Kmg  could 
oot  take  actual  possession  of  Indian  lands  for  the  use  of  his 
subjects,  except  in  pursuance  of  treaties  made  with  Indians ; 
and  as  to  the  confederated  states  guarantying  to  each  state  the 
right  of  taking  lands  from  the  Indians  by  force,  because  these 
lajods  lay  within  the  chartered  limits  of  a  state,  the  direct  con- 
trary was  expressly  provided.  The  United  States  were  in- 
vested with  the  treaty-making  power,  under  the  confederation, 
as  well  as  under  the  constitution  ;  and  this  power  was  often  and 
solemnly  applied  to  the  Indian  nations.  The  confederated 
states,  and  not  any  one  of  their  number,  sustained  a  national 
character.  Wars  with  the  Indians  were,  and  must  be,  sus- 
tamed  at  the  national  expense.  Treaties  of  peace  and  limits 
must  of  course  be  made  by  the  nation. 

Besides,  the  United  States  never  admitted,  that  the  separate 
states  were  entided  to  what  were  called  the  crown  land»;  that 
is,  the  lands  sdll  remaming  in  the  possession  of  the  Indians,  and 
reserved  by  royal  proclamation  for  their  continued  occupancy. 
So  far  from  guarantying  the  Indian  lands  to  Georgia,  the  con- 
federated states  maintained,  that  whatever  claim  the  whites  had 
to  these  lands, — the  claim  to  extinguish  the  Indian  title  by 
amicable  purchase, — belonged  to  the  United  States,  and  not 
to  Georgia.  The  claim  was  resisted  by  that  state,  and  was 
finaUy  put  to  rest  by  the  compact  of  1802. 

In  this  compact,  the  cessions  are  mutual,  or  reciprocal. 
Georgia  cedes  to  the  United  States  all  her  '  right,  title,  and 
claim'  to  lands  west  of  a  certain  line  ;  and  the  United  States 
cede  to  Georgia  all  their  '  claim,  rigbk,  or  tide'  to  lands  east 
of  the  same  line.  The  lands,  which  were  thus  ceded  by  Geor- 
gia to  the  United  States,  now  constitute  the  states  of  Alabama 
and  Mississippi.  The  cession  was  made  on  certain  conditions ; 
and  among  these  conditions  is  an  engagement,  ^  that  the  United 
States  shall,  at  their  own  expense,  extinguish,  for  the  use  of 
Georgia,  as  early  as  the  same  can  be  peaceably  obtained,  upon 
reasonable  terms,  the  Indian  title  to  the  county  of  Talasse,  and 
so  forth,  and  to  all  the  other  lands,  in  the  state  of  Georgia.'  This 
is  the  stipulation,  which  is  mainly  insisted  on,  as  imposing  upon 
the  United  States  the  obligation  of  obtaining,  at  all  hazards, 
die  Cherokee  lands  for  the  use  of  Georgia.  But  the  bare 
reading  of  the  clause  is  sufficient  to  show,  that  the  obligation  is 
ccmditional.  The  tide  was  to  be  extinguished  ^  peaceably ^^  and 
^  on  reasonable  terms  J*     CM"  course,  the  Indians  had  the  ac- 


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428  Removal  of  the  Indians.  [Oct. 

knowledged  power  of  keeping  their  country  forever,  if  they 
pleased ;  and  this  would  give  Georgia  no  cause  of  complaint 
against  them,  or  against  the  United  States.  In  fulfilment  of 
that  stipulation,  however,  the  general  government  has  pur- 
chased the  Indian  country,  as  iast  as  the  original  proprietors 
would  sell.  In  this  process,  the  whole  Creek  territory,  within 
the  chartered  limits  of  Georgia,  has  been  obtained  for  the  use 
of  that  state,  and  is  now  settled  by  its  inhabitants.  Portions 
of  the  Cherokee  territory  have  also  been  ceded,  so  that  twenty 
millions  of  acres,  in  the  whole,  have  come  into  the  possession 
of  Georgia,  since  the  execution  of  the  compact.  About  five 
millions  of  acres  still  remain  in  the  possession  of  the  Chero- 
kees,  over  which  territory  and  aU  its  possessors,  Georgia  claims^ 
the  right  of  extending  her  laws. 

Not  only  is  the  engagement  with  Georgia  conditional,  but 
the  very  terms  of  the  conditions  are  inconsistent  with  the  use  of 
any  means,  but  those  of  persuasion  and  argument.  The  In- 
dian ^  tith^  is  acknowledged  as  m  existence,  and  is  to  be  ^  ex- 
iinguishedj^  before  the  lands  can  be  obtained  for  the  use  of 
Georgia.  Previously  to  that  time,  the  United  States  bad 
made  no  fewer  than  five  treaties  with  the  Cherokees,  and  two 
with  the  Creeks ;  and  it  was  perfectly  well  known  to  the  par- 
ties, that  treaties  were  the  only  means,  by  which  the  Indian 
title  could  be  extinguished. 

In  the  very  paragraph  of  the  compact  which  contains  the 
stipulation,  it  is  stated,  by  way  of  description  and  recital,  that 
*  the  President  of  the  United  States  has  directed  that  a  treaty 
should  be  held  with  the  Creeks;'  suid,  in  a  previous  para- 
graph, the  United  States  engage  to  open  a  land-ofBce,  ^  for  the 
disposition  of  the  vacant  lands  thus  ceded,  to  which  the  Indian 
title  has  been,  or  may  hereafter  be,  extinguished.'  It  thus  ap- 
pears, that  the  very  instrument,  under  which  Georgia  has 
pressed  her  claim,  shows  most  conclusively,  that  no  means  of 
violence  were  to  be  used ;  that  aU  public  intercourse  with  the 
Indians  was  to  be  held  by  the  United  States ;  and  that  Geor- 
gia was  to  have  no  agency,  direct  or  indirect,  in  extinguishing 
the  Indian  title. 

There  is  another  remarkable  passage  in  the  same  instru- 
ment,— a  passage  inserted  for  the  purpose  of  protecting  the 
Indians  in  their  rights,  during  all  future  time.  Georgia  made 
it  an  express  condition,  that  any  new  state  to  be  formed  upon 
the  ceded  territory  should  conform  to  the  articles,  (one  ex- 


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1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  429 

cepted,)  of  the  '  ordinance  for  the  government  of  the  territory- 
north-west  of  the  Ohio.'  Among  these  articles,  to  which  such 
new  state  should  conform,  is  one,  of  which  the  following  sen- 
tence constitutes  a  part :  ^  The  utmost  good  faith  shall  always 
be  observed  towards  the  Indians ;  their  lands  and  property 
shall  never  be  taken  from  them  vnthout  their  consent;  and  in 
their  pr(>pcr^y,  rights^  and  liberty^  they  never  shall  he  invaded 
or  disturbed^  unless  in  just  and  lawful  wars,  authorised  by  Con- 
gress 'f  but  laws  founded  in  justice  and  humanity  shall,  from 
time  to  time,  be  made  for  preventing  wrongs  being  done  to 
them,  and  for  preserving  peace  and  friendship  with  them.' 

When  the  compact  here  under  consideration  was  adopted 
and  confirmed  by  the  legislature  of  Georgia,  the  act  declares, 
that  the  deed  of  cession  is  '  fully,  absolutely  and  amply,  rati- 
fied and  confirmed,  in  all  its  parts;  and  is  hereby  declared  to 
be  binding  and  conclusive  on  the  said  state,  her  government 
and  citizens,  forever.' 

Thus  Georgia,  in  the  most  solemn  manner,  bound  herself 
not  to  sanction  any  invasion  or  disturbance  of  the  Indians  in 
their  rights,  and  secured  the  imposition  of  the  same  obligation 
upon  new  states  afterwards  to  be  formed.  Consequently,  when 
Mississippi  and  Alabama  were  admitted  into  the  Union,  the 
ordinance  of  1787,  containing  the  passage  above  cited,  was  ex- 
pressly adopted  by  each  of  ^ese  states,  as  the  indispensable 
condition  of  its  admission. 

In  December,  1827,  not  three  years  ago,  Georgia,  by  an 
act  of  her  legislature,  asserted  the  right  of  taking  possession  of 
the  Cherokee  country  by  force.  She  declared,  thauthe  In- 
dians were  tenants  at  her  will,  that  she  wanted  their  lands,  and 
would  have  them. 

It  is  not  our  intention,^  after  all  that  has  been  said,  to  spend 
any  words  upon  the  reasonableness  of  this  claim.  There  may 
be  some  use,  however,  in  stating  briefly,  in  how  many  ways, 
and  for  what  length  of  time,  Georgia  has  bound  herself  not  to 
assert  it. 

1.  Oglethorpe,  the  founder  of  the  colony,  and  all  his  asso- 
ciates, went  upon  the  ground  that  the  Indians  had  a  right  to 
their  own  lands.  He  solicited  permission  to  setde  at  Savan- 
nah ;  and  every  foot  of  territory,  which  he  and  his  successors 
gained,  was  gained  by  treaties  and  defined  by  known  bounda- 
ries. The  engagements  were  numerous  and  positive,  that 
whites  should  not  intrude  upon  any  lands,  which  the  Indians  had 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  69.  65 


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430  Removal  of  ihe  iidians.  [Oct 

not  sold.  The  general  intercourse  between  the  parties  stood 
entirely  upon  this  basis.  The  colonists  came  as  friends  of  the 
Indians.  In  this  character  alone,  and  with  a  view  to  the  per- 
manent benefit  of  the  Indians,  did  they  plead  for  the  cession  of 
lands.  For  many  years  after  the  first  settlement,  they  might 
have  been  cut  off,  in  a  single  day,  by  the  natives.  In  1763,  a 
treaty  was  formed  at  Augusta,  in  the  negotiation  of  which,  the 
sovernors  of  Georgia,  the  two  Carolinas,  and  Virgbia,  and  the 
King's  superintendent  of  Indian  affiiirs,  were  associated.  All 
the  southwestern  tribes  were  represented,  and  their  right  to 
tlieir  own  lands  was  in  the  strongest  manner  implied.  Thus, 
in  the  infancy  of  the  colony,  and  during  forty-three  years  be- 
fore the  declaration  of  independence,  the  treaties,  and  the  daily 
intercourse,  were  all  in  favor  of  the  rights  of  the  Indians. 

2.  In  the  course  of  the  revolutionary  war,  various  negotia- 
tions were  held  between  the  Cherokees,  and  the  authorities  of 
Georgia.  A  treaty  was  formed  at  De  Witt's  Corner,  in  1777, 
by  commbsioners  duly  empowered  by  the  States  of  South 
Carolina  and  Georgia,  and  by  Indian  councils.  The  whole 
aspect  of  the  transactions  is  that  of  negotiations  between  indepen- 
dent powers,  capable  of  bbding  themselves  and  their  posterity. 
After  the  close  of  the  war,  seveial  other  treaties  were  made 
between  the  Cherokees  and  Geoi^ia,  acting  as  an  bdependeot 
State.  All  these  treaties  were  negotiated  upon  the  same  basi9 
as  the  preceding  ones. 

3.  Georgia  was  one  of  the  confederated  States ;  and,  dur- 
ing tlie  existence  of  the  confederation,  the  treaty  of  Hopewell 
was  forqied.  Georgia  remonstrated  against  it  on  the  single 
ground,  that  it  belonged  to  her,  as  a  separate  State,  to  treat 
with  Indians  occupying  a  part  of  the  land  within  her  chartered 
limits.  She  did  not  object  to  the  great  principles  of  the  treaty; 
that  is,  a  definite  boundary  and  an  implicit  guaranty.  Con- 
gress was  not  convinced  by  her  remonstrance.  On  the  con- 
trary, a  proclamation  was  issued  by  Congress,  in  1788,  to  en- 
force the  treaty  of  Hopewell ;  and  preparations  were  made  U> 
march  troops  from  the  Ohio  to  defend  the  Cherokees  against 
mtriJtders,  according  to  the  stipulations  of  that  instrument.  In 
179Q,  General  Washington,  in  the  second  year  of  his  presi- 
dency, declared  the  treaty  to  be  in  force,  and  expressed  his 
determination  to  execute  it.  Thus,  as  a  confederated  State, 
was  Georgia  bound  by  this  treaty  with  the  Indians,  as  truly 
and  firmly  as  by  the  peace  of  1783  with  Great  Britain. 


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1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  431 

4.  The  federal  constitution  provides,  that  all  treaties  pre* 
viously  *  made/  and  all  which  should  be  made  thereafter,  shall 
be  *  the  supreme  law  of  the  land.'  The  treaty  of  Hopewell 
was  then  in  existence.     In  die  language  of  Mr.  Bates, 

*  Georgia,  by  adopting  the  Constitution,  agreed,  at  least,  to 
this  treaty.  Nor  is  there  the  slightest  foundation  for  the  sugges- 
tion, that  she  did  not  intend  to  affirm  this  treaty.  Let  it  be  recol- 
lected, that  this  treaty  was  not  only  uniformly  called  a  treaty, 
and  known  as  such,  but  of  all  other  treaties,  this  was  most  likely 
to  be  distinctly  in  view.  1st.  Because  it  was  the  subject  of  her 
remonstrance  to  Congress  in  1786.  2d.  Because  the  boundary 
to  which  it  related  had  been  a  matter  of  perpetual  dispute  be- 
tween her  and  the  United  States ;  and,  3d.  Because,  when  she 
adopted  the  Constitution,  the  proclamation  of  Congress  was  then 
before  the  people,  requiring  submission  to  this  very  treaty,  and 
calling  upon  the  army  to  enforce  it  against  the  citizens  of  Geor- 
gia. Of  all  subjects,  therefore,  which  Georgia  had  openly  and 
rally  in  view,  this  was  the  most  prominent,  made  so  by  the  im- 
portant contemporaneous  events  which  affected  that  State  indi- 
vidually. But,  independent  of  all  this,  it  is  enough  that  it  was 
then  deemed  a  treaty,  and,  as  such,  was  made  the  supreme  law 
af  the  land.'    p.  239. 

The  constitution  also  provides,  that  treaties  shall  be  made 
by  the  general  government,  and  shall  not  be  made  by  separata 
States  ;  so  that,  by  acceding  to  the  constitution,  Georgia  bound 
herself  in  advance,  as  did  every  other  State,  to  abide  by  every 
treaty  which  should  be  proclaimed  as  a  treaty,  by  the  competent 
authority  of  the  nation.  How  is  it  possible,  that  this  power  could 
have  been  lodged  in  other  hands,  than  those  of  the  nation  ? 
And  how  can  it  be  contended,  for  a  moment,  that  every  State 
is  not  bound  by  these  highest  acts  of  national  sovereignty  ? 

5.  During  the  thirteen  years,  which  intervened,  between  the 
organization  of  the  federal  government  and  the  compact  of 
1802,  seven  treaties  were  formed  between  the  United  States 
and  the  Indian  nations  residing  within  the  chartered  limits  of 
Georgia.  The  two  first  of  diese  treaties,  one  with  the  Creeks^ 
the  other  with  the  Cherokees,  contain  the  articles  of  solemn 
guaranty,  which  have  so  often  been  mentioned.  It  is  believed, 
that  all  these  treaties  received  the  unanimous  approbation  of 
the  Senate.  No  advocate  of  Georgia  has  asserted,  so  far  as 
we  have  been  able  to  learn,  that  a  single  Senator  of  Georgia 
withheld  hb  assent  from  any  of  these  treaties.     The  treaty  of 


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432  Removal  of  the  Indians.  [Oct. 

Holston,  containing  the  guaranty  of  the  Cherokee  country,  was 
never  made  the  subject  of  complaint  in  any  form.  The  treaty 
of  Tellico,  in  which  the  guaranty  was  declared  to  be  forever, 
was  negotiated  by  Greorge  Walton,  an  eminent  citizen  of  Geor- 
gia, m  honor  of  whom  she  has  lately  called  a  county  by  his 
name.  Preceding  treaties  are,  in  this-  document,  recognised 
as  in  force,  '  together  with  the  constnu^tion  and  usage  under 
the  respective  articles;  and.«o  to  continue.^ 

6.  It  has  been  shown  at  large,  that  by  the  compact  of  1802, 
Georgia  acknowledged  the  vsdidity  of  treaties,  and  looked  to 
them  as  the  only  legitimate  method  of  extinguishing  the  Indian 
title. 

7.  Since  the  compact  of  1802,  ten  treaties  have  been  made 
by  the  United  States  with  the  Cherokees,  and  six  with  the 
Creeks  ;  all  in  accordance  with  die  principles  of  previous  trea- 
ties. It  is  not  intimated,  that  any  senator  from  Georgia,  or 
from  any  other  State,  objected  to  dieir  ratification.  By  these 
treaties  Georgia  obtained  possession  of  Indian  lands,  nearly 
equal  in  extent  to  all  New  England,  except  Maine. 

8.  All  the  constituted  authorities  of  Georgia,  including  her 
Governors,  legislators.  Senators  in  Congress  and  Representa- 
tives, have  uniformly,  down  to  the  year  1827,  admitted  the  va- 
lidity of  treaties  with  Indians.  The  legislature  and  the  delega- 
tion from  that  State  in  Congress,  were  in  the  habit  of  urging  the 
United  States  to  make  new  treaties  with  the  Cherokees  and 
Creeks.  In  1819,  the  Senate  and  House  of  Rq>resentatives 
of  Greorgia  addressed  a  memorial  to  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  in  which  it  is  declared,  that  ^the  State  of  Georgia 
claims  a  right  to  the  jurisdiction  and  soil  of  the  territory  within 
her  limits.  She  admits j  however,  that  the  right  is  inchoate,  re- 
maining to  be  perfected  by  the  United  States,  in  the  extinction 
of  the  Indian  title  J  In  1825,  the  Governor  of  Georgia,  now  a 
Senator  in  Congress,  commanded  obedience  to  a  treaty  with  the 
Creeks,  as  the  supreme  law  of  the  land.  The  last  commis- 
sioners, who  attempted  to  treat  with  the  Cherokees,  (both  of 
them  citizens  of  Georgia),  announced  in  writing,  that  the  Uni- 
ted States  alone  could  negotiate  with  the  Indian  nations,  or  ex- 
tinguish the  tide  to  their  lands. 

In  these  various  ways  has  Georgia,  during  the  whole  period 
of  her  existence,  from  1733  to  1827,  acknowledged  the  neces- 
sity of  obtaining  the  Indian  territory  by  amicable  treaties.  All 
her  eminent  statesmen,— -all  her  constituted  authorities, — have 


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1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  43S 

united  in  the  expression  of  this  opinion,  and  in  acting  accord-* 
ing  to  it.  How  is  it  possible,  that  a  State  should  ever  be 
bound,  if  Georgia  is  not  bound  by  these  transactions  ?  If  Eng- 
land were  bound  to  France  by  stipulations,  which  could  be 
supported  by  a  thousandth  part  as  much  evidence  as  exists  on 
this  subject,  and  should  refuse  to  acknowledge  the  obligation, 
the  whole  civilised  world  would  denounce  her  as  regardless  of 
her  faith.  Yet,  so  many  plausible  words  have  been  used,  and 
diere  has  been  so  much  parade  of  reasonmg  on  the  subject  of 
State  rights,  and  conflicting  powers,  that  some  respectable  and 
honorable  men  have  been  misled.  The  scene  is  distant  from  the 
northern  States.  A  dimness  is  cast  over  the  whole  subject,  in 
many  minds,  as  to  the  condition  and  rights  of  Indians  living  in 
the  woods.  . 

We  have  thought  it  might  be  useful,  therefore,  to  change  the 
scene,  and  to  state  a  case  perfectly  parallel,  though  relating  to 
a  different  tribe,  and  a  different  State,  in  order  to  make  the 
matter  so  plain,  that  it  cannot  be  misunderstood. 

Let  us  suppose,  then,  that  one  of  the  New  England  tribes 
of  Indians,  the  Mohegans,  for  instance,  were  found  on  the  ar- 
rival of  the  pilgrims,  in  possession  of  all  the  territory  now 
contained  in  Massachusetts ;  that  they  permitted  the  first  set- 
tlers to  land,  and  received  them  as  friends  ;  and  that  they  made 
new  cessions  of  territory,  as  the  settlements  were  extending. 
The  whites  encroached,  difficulties  arose,  and  wars  succeeded ; 
yet  peace  was  repeatedly  made,  on  equal  terms,  and  by  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  known  boundary.  This  was  the  progress  of 
things,  we  will  suppose,  till  the  commencement  of  the  revolu- 
tionary war,  when  the  Mohegans,  having  placed  themselves 
under  the  protection  of  Great  Britain,  and  being  persuaded  by 
agents  of  the  mother-country,  took  up  arms  against  the  colo- 
nies. 

We  will  proceed  with  the  supposition,  as  though  it  were  his- 
tory, and  without  further  interruption. 

In  1777,  Massachusetts  held  a  negotiatbn  with  the  Mohe- 
gans, by  commissioners  with  full  powers,  when  a  peace  was 
made  and  boundaries  were  fixed.  Other  treaties  were  made 
between  the  State  and  the  tribe  in  1783  and  in  subsequent  years. 
Massachusetts,  bemg  a  member  of  the  confederation,  a  treaty 
was  made  with  the  Mohegans  by  the  United  States,  in  1785,  by 
which  peace  was  established,  prisoners  were  exchanged,  reci- 
procity was  observed  on  other  important  pomts,  and  an  implicit 


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434  Removal  of  the  Indians*  {Oct 

guaranty  of  territory  was  given.  Massachusetts  protested 
against  tills  treaty,  on  the  ground  that  she  alone  ought  to  nego- 
tiate with  Indians  occupying  a  part  of  her  chartered  limits,  but 
not  denying  the  right  of  the  Mohegans  to  their  own  country  and 
government.  Congress  was  not  in  the  least  moved  from  its 
purpose  by  this  protest ;  but  held  that  the  United  States  had 
the  sole  power,  by  the  articles  of  confederation,  of  making 
treaties  with  Indian  nations,  situated  as  the  Mohegans  then 
were.  In  1788,  Congress  issued  a  proclamation  against  in- 
truders with  the  express  object  of  enforcing  the  treaty. 

After  the  adoption  of  the  federal  constitution.  General 
Washington  declared  the  treaty  of  1786  to  be  in  force,  and 
that  he  should  use  all  the  powers  intrusted  to  him  by  the 
constitution  to  have  it  maintained  with  good  faith.  At  the 
moment  of  making  this  declaration,  he  sent  a  special  message 
to  the  Senate,  proposing  this  question  :  '  Does  the  Senate 
advise  and  consent  solemnly  to  guaranty  to  the  Mohegans  the 
lands  which  they  occupy  ? '  To  which  the  Senate  (the  mem- 
bers from  Massachusetts  being  present),  unanimously  answer 
in  the  affirmative.  A  treaty  was  formed  in  the  year  1791, 
between  the  United  States  and  the  Mohegans,  by  which  Con- 
necticut river  was  made  the  eastern  boundary  of  the  Indian 
country,  which  then  embraced  what  is  now  the  western  part  of 
Massachusetts,  the  southern  part  of  Vermont,  the  northwestern 
corner  of  Connecticut,  and  the  part  of  New  York  which  lies 
east  of  the  Hudson  river.  In  this  treaty,  *  the  United  States. 
solemnly  guaranty  to  the  Mohegan  nation  all  their  lands  not 
hereby  ceded.'  Mauy  stipulations  are  made,  and,  among  the 
rest,  the  Mohegans  engage,  that  they  will  not  form  any  treaty 
witli  a  separate  State.  They  grant  to  the  United  States  the 
privilege  of  a  road  from  Albany  to  Spruigfield,  and  pernoit 
boats  to  navigate  the  Housatonic  river.  The  United  States 
promise  to  give  them  implements  of  husbandry,  that  they  may 
become  herdsmen  and  cultivators,  and  with  a  view  to  their 
permanent  attachment  to  their  soil.  The  United  States  also 
engage,  that,  if  any  citizen  of  the  United  States  shall  go  into 
the  Mohegan  country  and  commit  a  crime  there,  or  do  an  in- 
jury to  a  peaceable  Indian,  such  citizen  shall  be  punished  by 
the  courts  of  the  United  States,  in  the  same  manner  as  if  a 
similar  crime  had  been  committed  within  the  jurisdiction  of 
Massachusetts,  or  within  any  territorial  district  of  the  United 
States.    The  Mohegans,  on  their  part,  agree  to  deliver  up  for 


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1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians*  435 

punishment  any  of  their  people,  and  any  who  take  refuge  in 
tbeir  nation,  who  have  committed  trespasses  upon  neighboring 
whites ;  and,  in  consequence  of  the  various  stipulations  in  their 
favor,  they  agree  to  be  under  the  protection  of  the  United 
States,  and  of  no  other  sovereign  whatever. 

This  treaty  was  ratified  by  the  Senate  unanimously,  no 
member  from  Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  New  York,  or  Ver- 
mont making  any  objection;  and  Massachusetts  never  having 
objected  to  the  guaranty  of  1791,  down  to  the  present  day. 

Seven  years  afterwards,  another  treaty  was  made  with  the 
Mohegans,  negotiated  by  an  eminent  citizen  of  Massachusetts, 
acting  as  a  commissioner  of  the  United  States,  which  expressly 
extends  the  guaranty  of  the  Mohegan  country  forever. 

Massachusetts  having  long  had  claims  to  western  lands, 
which  the  United  States  would  not  acknowledge,  a  compact  is 
formed  between  that  State  and  the  United  States,  in  1802. 
By  this  compact,  Massachusetts  cedes  to  the  United  States  all 
her  claim  to  the  western  lands,  accepting  as  an  equivalent  a 
large  sum  of  money  and  an  engagement  that  the  United  States 
would  extinguish  the  Mohegan  title  as  soon  as  it  could  be 
done  '  peaceably,  and  on  reasonable  terms ;'  several  clauses 
in  the  compact  implying,  that  the  title  was  to  be  extinguished 
by  treaty  with  the  Indians,  and  that  the  treaty  was  to  be  made 
between  them  and  the  United  States,  Massachusetts  having  no 
agency  in  any  such  transaction. 

After  this  compact,  ten  treaties  were  made  between  the 
United  States  and  the  Mohegans,  all  with  the  acquiescence  of 
Massachusetts,  and  some  of  them  at  her  solicitation.  By  these 
treaties,  she  acquired  lands  of  the  Mohegans,  till  their  terri- 
tory, so  far  as  Massachusetts  is  concerned,  was  reduced  to 
what  lies  west  of  the  counties  of  Franklin,  Hampshire  and 
Hampden,  where  the  Mohegan  nation  still  remains,  upon  the 
ground  derived  from  the  immemorial  occupancy  of  preced- 
ing generations.  In  one  of  these  treaties,  the  Mohegans 
granted  to  the  United  States  the  privilege  of  a  road,  which 
^ould  pass  through  their  country  irom  Rudand,  Vermont,  to 
Litchfield,  Connecticut.  In  another  it  was  stipulated,  that  the 
agent  of  the  United  States,  residing  among  the  Indians  for 
their  benefit,  might  cultivate  land  lor  a  field  and  garden,  so 
long  as  he  should  reside  there  in  that  capacity.  In  the  last  of 
these  treaties  but  one,  a  treaty  negotiated  by  the  individual, 
who  is  now  President  of  the  United  States,  provision  waa 


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4S(  Removal  of  the  Indians.  [OcU 

made  for  the  permanent  residence  of  the  Indians  upon  their 
hereditary  possessions,  and  aU  preceding  treaties  were  con- 
firmed ;  and  the  very  last,  negotiated  by  die  individual,  who  is 
now  Vice-President  of  the  United  States,  is  declared  to  be 
formed  for  the  preservation  of  the  Mohegan  nation  ;  provision 
is  made  in  it  for  a  permanent  school  fund,  to  be  expended  in 
the  country  now  occupied  by  that  nation ;  and  the  intercourse- 
law  of  the  United  States  is  permanently  pledged  for  the  pro- 
tection of  the  Mohegans  against  the  whites. 

In  the  war  of  1812,  the  Mohegans  sent  a  larger  proportion 
of  warriors  than  any  State  in  the  Union,  according  to  their 
numbers,  volunteering  their  services  under  the  banners  of  the 
United  States.  They  fought  by  the  side,  and  under  the  or- 
ders, of  the  commander,  who  is  now  President  of  the  United 
States.  Some  of  their  bravest  and  best  men  fell  on  the  field 
of  battle ;  and  those,  who  survived,  were  cheered  and  ap- 
plauded as  faithful  allies,  and  generous  disinterested  friends, 
fu%  deserving  the  guaranty,  which  they  had  received. 

The  State  of  Massachusetts,  however,  importunately  presses 
the  United  States  to  extinguish  the  Mohegan  tide.  The  legis- 
lature all  the  while  acknowledges,  that  treaties  must  be  made 
W  the  United  States,  before  the  title  can  be  extinguished. 
The  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  in  1825,  proclaims  treaties 
with  the  Mohegans  to  be  the  supreme  law  of  the  land.  The 
Representatives  in  Congress  from  Massachusetts,  as  late  as  the 
spring  of  1827,  leave  upon  the  records  a  formal  protest  against 
a  law,  which  assumed  that  a  certain  treaty  with  Indians  was 
void  on  account  of  fraud.  The  reason  assigned  by  these  Re- 
presentatives was,  that  a  treaty  was  an  instrument  of  so  high  a 
character,  that  rights  vested  immediately  on  its  execution,  and 
it  could  not  be  set  aside,  even  by  a  subsequent  treaty,  and  for 
manifest  corruption. 

In  the  mean  time,  while  these  treaties,  and  laws  for  their 
execution,  were  carried  into  effect  with  the  universal  acquies- 
cence of  the  rulers  and  people  of  every  State  in  the  Union, 
the  Mohegans  were  making  rapid  improvements  in  civilisation. 
The  Secretary  of  War  (Mr.  Crawford),  whom  we  will  suppose 
to  be  an  eminent  citizen  of  Massachusetts,  and  afterwards  the 
idol  of  that  State,  took  the  lead  in  promoting  the  best  interests 
of  the  natives.  He  wrote  an  official  letter  to  invite  the  co-op- 
eration of  benevolent  societies  with  the  government  in  measures 
for  the  intellectual  and  moral  improvement  of  the  Indians. 


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1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  437 

From  him  the  first  impulse  was  received  toward  the  support 
and  establishment  of  schools,  by  the  General  Goremment,  for 
the  instruction  of  Indian  children.  Various  efficient  causes  of 
improvement  were  in  operation ;  and  the  Mohegans  formed  a 
regular  republican  government,  upon  the  best  models. 

All  these  things  were  perfecdy  well  known  to  the  inhabi- 
tants of  all  the  northern  States.  If  a  gentleman  was  travel- 
ling from  Boston  to  Albany,  he  knew  he  was  to  pass  through 
the  Mohegan  nation.  He  did  pass  through  it.  He  knew 
when  he  crossed  the  limits.  He  saw  the  natives  at  work  on 
their  farms.  He  lodged  at  their  houses.  He  visited  dieir 
schools.  He  spent  the  Sabbath  with  them,  and  engaged  with 
them  in  the  most  solemn  ordmances  of  public  worship.  He 
read  their  newspaper,  which  was  sent  weekly  into  all  parts  of 
the  United  States.  They  told  him  what  their  relations  with 
the  United  States  Were,  and  that  they  were  accurately  and 
minutely  described  in  treaties.  They  added,  that,  in  the  exe- 
cution of  these  treaties,  white  intruders  had  been  repeatedly 
driven  off,  by  the  armed  force  of  the  United  States. 

The  people  of  Albany,  of  Northampton,  of  Hartford,  and 
of  Rutland,  came  into  the  Mohegan  nation,  to  witness  the 
improvement  of  the  Indian  pupils;  and  the  teachers  re- 
turned these  visits.  All  the  people  knew  what  the  Mohegan 
nation  was,  and  what  its  rights  were,  as  solemnly  guarantied  by 
the  United  States.  Not  a  State  in  the  Union  had  its  limits 
more  exactly  known,  or  its  separate  existence  more  positively 
guarantied. 

But,  while  things  were  in  this  condition,  Massachusetts  sud- 
denly resolves,  m  December,  1827,  that  she  has  waited  long 
enough  for  the  Mohegan  lands ;  that,  as  she  cannot  get  them 
by  negotiation,  she  has  a  right  to  take  them  by  force  ;  that  she 
will  not  resort  to  violence,  however,  till  other  means  shall  have 
failed ;  that  the  Mohegans  never  had  any  right  to  their  country ; 
that  they  are  the  tenants  at  will  of  Massachusetts ;  that  their 
lands  belong  to  her ;  that  the  King  of  England  gave  them  to 
her  two  hundred  years  ago ;  and  that  she  wants  die  Mohegan 
lands,  and  will  have  them.  These  things  Massachusetts  sol- 
emnly declares,  before  the  world,  in  the  year  1827,  by  resolu- 
tions adopted  in  both  branches  of  her  legislature ;  and  she 
directs  her  governor  to  send  a  copy  to  the  President  of  the 
United  States,  which  duty  was  faithfully  performed. 

The  next  year,  1828,  Massachusetts  extends  her  laws  over 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  66 


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438*  Removd  of  the  Indians.  [Oct. 

tbe  Mobegans;  aod  annexes  all  that  part  of  their  territoiy, 
which  lies  withm  her  chartered  limits,  to  the  counties  of 
Franklin,  Hampshire  and  Hampden.  She  enacts  at  the 
same  time,  that  no  Mobegan,  nor  any  descendant  of  a  Mohe- 
gan,  shall  be  ekh^  a  party  or  a  witness  in  a  court  of  justice. 

These  measures  she  follows  up,  in  1&29,  by  enacting,  that 
if  any  Mobegan  chief  shall  attempt  to  prevent  the  people  of 
the  tribe  from  emigrating,  he  shall  be  liable  to  imprisonment 
four  years ;  and  if  any  member  of  tbe  tribe  sbaU  endeavor  to 
prevent  any  chief  from  selling  the  whole  Mobegan  country,  he 
shall  be  imprisoned  not  less  than  four  years,  nor  more  than  six 
years. 

When  the  civilised  world  begins  to  express  astonishment  at 
these  remarkable  doings,  Massachusetts  bestirs  herself  to  pro- 
duce arguments  in  justification  ;  and  her  arguments  are  these. 

1.  Sbie  alleges,  that  the  American  aborigines  were  in  a  state 
of  nature,  when  New  England  was  first  settled  from  Europe, 
and  men  in  a  state  of  nature  can  neither  be  entided  to  prop- 
erty, nor  to  the  protection  of  law ;  from  whence  she  infers, 
that  the  Mobegans  may  jusdy  be  driven  from  their  patrimonial 
inheritance,  although  they  are  not  in  a  state  of  nature,  but  have 
lived  by  her  side  under  the  protection  of  international  and 
municipal  law,  for  two  hundred  years. 

2.  She  alleges  that,  according  to  Vattel,  erratic  tribes,  sav- 
ages in  the  hunter  state,  may  be  required  to  give  up  Kpart  of 
their  lands  to  their  more  civilised  neighbors  for  cultivation ; 
therefore  the  Mohegans,  who  are  not  an  erratic  tribe,  and  not 
in  the  hunter  state,  but  herdsmen  and  cultivators,  may  justly  be 
ejected  from  all  their  lands,  which  they  have  derived  from  their 
ancestors,  which  they  have  neither  forfeited  nor  sold,  and  which 
have  been  guarantied  to  them  for  ever  by  the  Unfited  States. 

3.  She  says,  that  it  is  an  established  principle,  that  barbarians 
should  yield  to  civilised  men ;  and  dierefore  the  Mohegans, 
who  are  not  barbarians ;  who  have  demeaned  themselves  peace- 
ably towards  the  United  States  for  the  last  forty  years;  who 
have  learned  to  read  and  write  ;  who  have  a  printed  language 
of  their  own,  and  send  forth  a  newspaper  weekly,  shall  leave 
their  native  land  and  seek  a  residence  elsewhere. 

Not  appearing  to  be  altogether  satisfied  with  these  reasons, 
Massachusetts  says,  that  she  is  to  be  the  only  judge  of  her  own 
limits ;  that  she  shall  defend  her  exclusive  right  to  her  own 
territory;  and  that  writers  of  pamphlets,  and  reviews,  have 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Removal  of  the  Indians.  439 

no  business  to  meddle  with  her  affiitrs :  that,  therefore,  she  is 
not  bound  by  her  assent  to  the  constitution  of  the  United 
States,  which  says,  that  the  meaning  and  effect  of  treaties  and 
laws  are  to  be  decided  by  the  courts  of  the  United  States  ;  nor 
by  her  own  compact  of  1802,  which  admits  the  Indian  tide, 
and  prescribes  the  manner  in  which  it  is  to  be  extinguished,  if 
extinguished  at  dl.  In  sIkmi,  she  declares  roundly,  that  she 
will  interpret  all  her  obligations  for  herself,  without  asking  the 
opinion  of  any  one ;  or,  in  other  words,  that  her  present  incli- 
nation is  her  only  rule  of  duty. 

MvJUAo  nfymint^  de  U 
Fabvla  naarraJtyr. 

This  rapid  sketch  of  supposed  history  is  a  faithful  exhibition 
of  the  actual  conduct  of  Georgia ;  though  it  is  by  no  means  so 
strong  an  exhibition,  as  a  fuller  statement  would  make  it.  How 
is  it  possible  to  doubt,  that  the  south-western  tribes  of  Indians, 
living  on  lands  which  they  derived  from  their  fathers,  and 
within  limits  acknowledged  and  guarantied  by  the  separate 
States  and  the  United  States,  have  a  perfect  original  right,  and 
a  perfect  right  by  compact,  to  the  continued  occupancy  of  their 
country,  as  long  as  they  please  to  occupy  it  ? 

Those  who  urge  the  removal  of  the  Indians  say,  that  such  a 
measure  would  be  greatly  for  their  advantage.  Our  limits  do 
not  permit  us  to  enter  at  large  into  this  question  of  utility.  If 
the  Indians  remove  to  better  their  condition,  it  is  manifest  that 
their  removal  should  be  voluntary.  They  should  have  time  to 
consider  the  subject.  No  threats  should  be  used.  They 
should  have  abundant  opportunity  to  examine  the  country,  to 
which  they  are  to  be  removed.  The  territory  allotted  to  each 
tribe  should  be  designated,  and  the  title  made  clear.  It  should 
be  rendered  certain,  that  they  can  be  protected  in  their  new 
residence,  from  the  encroachments  of  lawless  whites.  If  all 
this  can  be  done,  and  the  Indians,  with  an  intelligent  regard  to 
their  own  welfare,  uninfluenced  by  threats,  or  bribes,  or  false 
statements,  shall  voluntarily  remove,  there  is  probably  not  a 
man  in  the  country,  who  would  object  to  it. 

Before  a  reflecting  and  benevolent  man  will  take  the  respon- 
sibility of  advising  the  Indians  generally  to  remove,  he  will  ex- 
amine the  subject  thoroughly;  and  will  gain  satisfaction  on 
several  topics,  some  of  which  are  the  following. 

In  the  first  place,  it  should  be  ascertained,  that  there  is  good 


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440  Removal  qf  the  huUmt.  [Oet 

land  enough,  at  the  disposal  of  the  United  States,  for  the  ao 
commodation  of  all  the  tribes  to  be  removed.  The  land  should 
not  only  be  capable  of  cultivation  ultimately,  but  should  now  be 
in  such  a  condition,  that  Indians  can  live  comfortably  and  con- 
tentedly upon  it.  But  a  large  tract  of  territory,  which  would 
adswer  this  description,  must  be  extremely  valuable  hereafter; 
much  more  valuable,  than  the  remnants  of  their  hereditary 
possessions,  to  which  some  of  the  tribes  are  reduced,  and  to 
which  others  might  consent  to  reduce  themselves,  if  they  could 
rest  secure  in  the  guaranty  of  the  United  States. 
•  In  order  to  be  certam  as  to  the  quality  of  the  land,  and  to 
what  extent  it  is  habitable,  accurate  surveys  riiould  be  made 
by  competent  and  responsible  agents  ;  and  ample  opportunity 
should  be  given  to  the  Indians  to  explore  their  future  habita- 
tion for  themselves. 

Agam  ;  it  should  be  made  to  appear  clearly,  that  the  Indians 
are  to  enjoy  security  in  their  new  place  of  residence.  This 
can  be  done  in  no  other  way,  than  by  showing,  in  the  most  de- 
cisive manner,  that  they  are  to  be  protected  where  they  now 
are.  If  they  cannot  be  thus  protected,  k  is  futile  to  talk  about 
protection  any  where.  If  they  may  now  be  dispossessed  of 
their  original  inheritance,  because  they  are  within  the  char- 
tered limits  of  states,  they  majr  hereafter  be  driven  from  the 
lands  which  they  shall  receive  as  a  grant  from  the  General 
Government,  because  they  will  then  be  within  the  national 
limits  of  the  United  States.  The  General  Government  can  do 
no  more,  in  regard  to  securing  a  title  to  the  Indians,  than  the 
several  States  have  done  repeatedly.  If  these  engagements  of 
States,  sanctioned,  and  most  solemnly  guarantied,  by  the  United 
States,  prove  utterty  insufficient  to  protect  the  Indians,  how 
.  can  the  acts  of  the  General  Government  alone  afford  any  solid 
ground  of  confidence  ?  Constitutional  scruples  now  exist  in 
one  shape.  Twenty  years  hence  they  will  exist  in  some  other 
shape ;  and,  in  whatever  shape  they  exist,  they  may  be  made 
the  pretext  for  taking  Indian  lands,  unless  compacts  are  to  be 
executed  according  to  the  intention  of  the  parties,  clearly  ex- 
pressed in  the  compacts  themselves. 

Beside  a  guaranty  of  territory,  these  Indian  tribes,  before 
they  remove,  should  have  good  reason  to  rely  upon  the  pro- 
tection of  the  United  States  against  mischievous  white  in- 
truders. For  various  reasons,  which  there  is  not  room  here  to 
specify,  the  emigrant  Indians  will  be  much  more  exposed  to 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Removal  of  the  bdians.  441 

renegades  from  civilised  communities,  than  they  are  on  the 
land  of  their  fathers.  The  country  to  be  allotted  to  the  tribes, 
which  shall  remove,  is  much  easier  of  access,  than  the  present 
Cherokee  nation.  Steam-boats,  with  hundreds  of  intruders, 
can  ascend  the  Arkansas  into  the  heart  of  the  Indian  country. 
They  will  be  allured  thither  by  the  money,  which  will  be  dis- 
tributed for  annuities,  salaries,  and  rations.  The  victims  of 
their  rapacity  will  be  numerous,  and  crowded  together.  The 
more  easily  the  Indians  yield  to  temptation,  the  less  sympathy 
will  be  felt  for  them.  The  more  protection  they  need,  the  less 
will  they  receive.  Already,  the  emigrants,  though  compara^- 
tively  few  in  number,  experience  these  evils.  The  Cherokees 
of  the  Arkansas,  who  have  removed  only  a  hundred  miles, 
have  been  terribly  annoyed  by  dealers  in  whiskey  since  their 
removal.  The  reason  is,  that  the  emigrants  were  expected  to 
receive  a  considerable  sum  of  money  from  the  United  States, 
and  greedy  speculators  were  on  the  spot  to  profit  by  it. 

If  we  may  judge  by  a  reference  to  the  known  principles  of 
human  nature,  or  by  what  has  taken  place  already,  we  cannot 
suppose,  that  agents  of  the  United  States  among  the  Indians 
will  be  men  of  sufiicient  virtue,  intelligence,  and  public  spirit, 
to  make  vigorous  and  persevering  opposition  to  all  the  intrigues 
of  self-interest ;  and  unless  this  is  done,  the  emigrant  Indians 
will  be  destroyed. 

If  all  the  preliminaries  can  be  fixed  to  the  satisfaction  of  the 
Indians,  and  of  the  disinterested  and  intelligent  portion  of  the 
American  people,  a  removal  may  properly  be  commenced. 
But  even  in  this  case,  the  process  should  be  gradual.  Let  the 
first  trial  be  made  by  a  small  tribe,  with  great  caution,  and  un- 
der the  most  favorable  auspices.  If  this  should  prove  success- 
ful, the  larger  tribes  would  have  more  confidence  in  the  plan, 
and  the  government  and  people  of  the  United  States  would  see 
the  need,  and  the  benefits,  of  continued  caution  and  vigilance. 

There  is  no  need  of  haste.  Indeed,  there  is  no  apology  for 
it.  One  of  the  Senators  of  Georgia  said  in  bis  place,  towards 
the  close  of  the  debate  on  the  Indian  bill,  that  Georgia  had  a 
very  inconsiderable  interest  in  this  question.  The  friends  of 
the  Indians  knew  this  perfectly  well  before  ;  but  they  did  not 
expect  so  distinct  an  avowal  from  such  a  quarter.  One  of  the 
Representatives  m  Congress  from  Georgia,  said,  m  private  con- 
versation, that  there  is  no  necessity  for  removing  the  Indians. 
No  well-mfbrmed  man  can  doubt  the  correctness  of  this  re- 


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442  Studies  in  Poetry.  [Oct* 

mark.  How,  then,  can  the  peopie  of  the  United  States  justify 
to  themselves,  or  to  the  world,  a  course  of  measures,  which  is 
not  called  for  by  any  exigency,  which  appears  inconsistent  with 
the  most  obvious  principles  of  fair  dealing,  and  which,  as  many 
of  the  best  and  wisest  men  among  us  fully  believe,  will  bring 
upon  the  Indian  tribes  either  a  speedy  or  a  lingermg  ruin,  and 
upon  ourselves  the  deep  and  lasting  infamy  of  a  breach  of 
faith? 

The  volume  of  speeches  before  us  is  a  most  interesting  one. 
Some  of  the  discussions  may  appear  dry  to  those,  who  are  not 
accustomed  to  elaborate  investigations.  But  there  are  passages 
of  high  eloquence  in  several  of  the  speeches ;  and  we  may  say, 
what  can  very  rarely  be  said  in  a  similar  case,  that  not  a  single  . 
argument  of  a  doubtful  character  is  relied  upon,  in  favor  of  die 
Indians.  All  the  main  positions  are  not  defensible  merely; 
they  are  absolutely  unassailable.  The  book  and  the  separate 
speeches  should  be  extensively  circulated. 


Art.  VIL — Studies  in  Poetry.  Embracing  Notices  of  the 
Lives  and  Writings  of  the  Best  Poets  in  the  English  Lan" 
guoffe,  a  copious  Selection  of  Elegant  Extracts,  a  short 
^Analysis  of  Hebrew  Poetry,  and  Translations  from  the 
Sacred  Poets :  designed  to  illtistrate  the  Principles  of 
Rhetoric,  and  teach  their  Application  to  Poetry.  By 
Geouge  B.  Cheever.    Boston.    1830. 

If  we  may  form  a  judgment  of  the  estimate  in  which  poetry 
is  at  this  time  held,  from  the  general  practice  of  the  professors 
of  the  art,  we  shall  certainly  be  led  to  believe,  that  its  voice  is 
as  litde  regarded,  as  that  of  wisdom.  All  the  great  living  mas- 
ters of  the  lyre  appear  to  have  laid  it  by,  in  order  to  labor  in  a 
lower,  though  perhaps  a  more  productive  field.  It  is  now 
about  fifteen  years  since  Scott,  finding  his  poetical  popularity 
on  the  wane,  and  doubtless  a  litde  dismayed  by  the  portentous 
brilliancy  of  another  ascending  star,  gave  up  all  his  powers  to 
a  difierent  department  of  literature,  with  a  vigor  and  success, 
that  leave  us  little  reason  to  murmur  at  the  change.  Camp- 
bell had  forsaken  the  field  much  earlier,  to  employ  himself  in 
celebrating  the  merits  of  those,  whom  tlie  world  had  reasona- 


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18S0.]  Studies  in  Poetry.  449 

bly  expected  him  to  rival.  The  fine  genius  of  Coleridge  is 
bewildered  in  the  dim  twilight  of  his  strange  metaphysics ; 
Southey,  with  untiring  diligence,  has  explored  almost  every 
practicable  path  of  prose,  as  he  had  previously  left  scarcely  any 
thing  unattempted  in  rhyme ;  and  Moore  appears  to  have  de- 
voted himself  to  the  task  of  erecting  monuments  to  departed 
genius.  This  general  abandonment  of  poetry,  on  the  part  of 
fiiose  who  have  cultivated  it  with  the  greatest  success,  is  rather 
singular ;  and  seems  naturally  to  imply,  that  it  enjoys  less  of  the 
public  favor  now,  than  has  been  accorded  to  it  in  former  times. 
Such,  in  fact,  is  the  opinion  of  many,  who  believe  that  the  world 
is  growing  too  busy  and  consequential  to  attend  to  such  light  mat- 
ters ;  that  the  active  spirit  of  the  age  demands  excitement  of  a 
different  and  superior  character;  and  that  men  would  now 
hardly  stop  to  listen  to  the  notes  of  inspiration,  even  were  they 
uttered  by  an  angePs  voice.  In  part,  this  opinion  is  probably 
well  founded ;  but  it  should  not  be  forgotten,  that  we  are  very 
liable  to  error  in  forming  judgments,  which  result  from  a  com- 
parison of  the  tastes  and  dispositions  of  men  at  this  day,  with 
those  of  generations  which  are  past.  The  present  is  before  us, 
while  the  past  is  at  best  but  very  dimly  seen ;  and  a  disposi- 
tion to  complain  of  the  prevailing  taste  is  by  no  means  peculiar 
to  our  own  times.  Groldsmith  remarked  with  ludicrous  bitter- 
ness, that  the  world  made  a  point  of  neglecting  his  productions ; 
and  Akenside  declared,  that  his  opinion  of  the  public  taste 
would  be  regulated  by  the  reception  of  Dyer's  '  Fleece  ;'  but 
the  one  was  in  error  as  to  the  fact,  while  the  other  may  be  said 
to  have  been  mistaken  in  the  law.  Even  if  the  justness  of 
these  complaints  be  admitted,  they  would  only  prove,  that  the 
most  delightful  music  is  at  all  times  heard  with  difficulty  amidst 
the  din  and  crash  of  the  enginery  of  practical  life.  The 
spirit  of  poetry  is  still  present  with  him  who  meditates  at  even- 
tide ;  wiUi  the  worshipper  of  nature  in  her  solitary  places ;  with 
the  contemplative,  in  their  high  and  lonely  tower ;  with  him 
who  is  rapt  and  inspired  by  devotion ;  and  even  if  it  be  driven 
from  the  haunts  of  crowded  life,  it  still  speaks  to  the  soul  in 
tones  as  thrilling  and  divine  as  ever. 

While  we  admit,  that  what  is  called  the  spirit  of  the  age, 
though  the  phrase  is  too  often  used  without  any  very  distinct 
perception  of  its  meaning,  is  not  very  favorable  to  the  cultiva- 
tion of  poetry,  we  must  at  the  same  time  make  due  allowance 
for  the  operation  of  another  cause— the  influence  of  perverted 


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444  Studies  in  Poetry.  [Oct. 

taste.  What  else  could  induce  men  to  welcome  the  inferior 
classes  of  romances,  tales,  and  novek,  which  are  hourly  poured 
forth  from  the  press  in  multitudes  which  no  man  can  number  i 
To  what  other  cause  can  we  attribute  the  reception  of  stories  of 
fashionable  life^  written  by  those  who  are  as  little  conversant 
with  its  recesses,  as  with  the  court  of  the  Celestial  Empire — 
and  which,  if  the  representation  were  perfect,  could  present  no 
picture,  on  which  the  moral  eye  would  delight  to  dwell  ?  What 
but  perverted  taste  could  tolerate  the  audacious  depravity  ci 
novels,  which  would  fain  teach  us  to  look  for  the  beatitudes  in 
the  person  of  the  assassin  and  highway-robber — in  which  we 
are  taught,  that  what  men  in  their  strange  ignorance  have 
deemed  the  road  to  the  gibbet,  is  only  the  sure  and  beaten 
pathway  to  honor,  and  happmess,  and  successful  love  ?  A  dark 
om^i  it  will  indeed  be,  if  productions  like  these,  on  which  the 
moral  sentiment  of  the  community  ought  to  frown  with  deep, 
unequivocal,  and  stern  indignation,  shall  permanently  usurp  the 
place  of  those,  which  minister  to  the  desires  of  our  nobler 
nature. 

Upon  looking  back  for  a  moment  at  the  history  of  English 
poetry,  we  do  not  find  many  proofs,  at  any  period,  of  a  very 
just  estimate  of  its  object  and  excellences.  To  trace  it  be- 
yond the  reign  of  Edward  III.  is  as  hopeless,  as  the  attempt  to 
ascertain  the  course  of  the  Niger ;  and  whatever  may  have 
been  the  character  of  the  earlier  chronicles  and  romances, 
there  is  no  reason  to  believe,  that  it  was  at  all  propitious  to  the 
influence  and  division  of  correct  taste.  The  genius  of  Chau- 
cer, like  that  of  his  ^eat  contemporary  Wickliffe,  mstead.  of 
being  nurtured  by  the  age,  burst  forth  in  defiance  of  it ;  but 
the  hour  was  not  yet  come ;  and  the  poet's  song  was  followed 
by  silence  as  deep  and  lasting,  as  that  which  succeeded  to  the 
trumpet-call  of  the  stern  reformer.  During  the  fierce  civil 
wars,  and  until  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.  there  was  no  such 
thing  as  English  literature.  This  was  the  period  of  the  refor- 
mation and  the  revival  of  letters ;  yet  it  presents  us  with  few 
names,  which  the  lover  of  poetry  is  solicitous  to  remember. 
Love  ajid  chivalry  have  indeed  given  an  interest  to  the  melan- 
choly genius  of  Surry,  which  is  heightened  by  the  recollection, 
that  his  unusual  accomplishments  were  the  only  cause  of  his 
untimely  and  treacherous  murder ;  but  the  poets  of  that  time 
were  little  more  than  mere  translators  of  the  Italian ;  and  Sir 
PhUip  Sidney,  while  defending  poetry  in  general,  is  compelled 


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1B30.]  Studies  in  Poetry.  445 

to  acknowledge  the  inferiority  of  that  of  his  own  country  dur- 
ing the  two  precedbg  centuries.  But  the.  age  of  Elizabeth 
may  well  be  considered  as  the  era  of  its  revival.  This  was 
certainly  a  period  of  high  excitement,  and  distinguished  for  a 
bold  and  animated  spirit  of  intellectual  activity.  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  has  called  it  the  openmg  scene  in  the  political 
drama  of  modem  Europe  ;  it  may,  with  almost  equal  justice, 
be  denominated  the  opening  scene  of  English  literature.  The 
splendid  genius  of  Greece  was  just  restored  to  the  world ;  the 
^earthquake  voice'  of  the  reformation  had  sounded  through 
the  vast  of  heaven ;  and  the  mind  had  indignantly  burst  the 
chams  of  protracted  and  ignoble  bondage.  Every  thing  seemed 
propitious  for  the  exhibition  of  freedom  and  vigor,  in  every  de- 
partment of  intellect ;  and  in  almost  all,  these  qualities  were 
signaUy  displayed ;  but  with  the  exception  of  one  venerable 
name,  we  find  scarcely  a  single  example  of  great  excellence  in 
any  but  dramatic  poetry ;  in  which  a  degree  of  superiority  was 
attained,  which  has  thrown  the  eflbrts  of  succeeding  ages  com- 
pletely into  shade.  It  is  true,  that  powers  of  a  very  exalted 
order  are  required  for  success  in  the  higher  class  of  dramatic 
compoi^tions ;  but  we  can  hardly  consider  that  period  as  very 
remarkable  for  poetical  excellence  in  general,  which  affords 
scarcely  an  example  of  any  other.  This  direction  appears  to 
have  been  given  to  poetical  talent  by  the  taste  of  the  court,  the 
influence  of  which  upon  literature  was  subsequently  very  great. 
In  the  present  instance,  that  influence,  so  far  as  it  went,  was 
highly  favorable  :  the  only  cause  of  regret  is,  that  it  failed  to 
extend  to  other  departments  of  poetry,  which  were  then  strug- 
gling into  existence. 

At  this  time,  the  influence  of  the  Puritans  began  to  be  felt. 
They  were  a  class,  who  are  hardly  to  be  judged  by  the  same 
rules  which  would  be  applied  to  the  characters  of  other  men, 
in  ordinary  times;  and  of  whom  it  is  somewhat  difficult  to 
speak  in  proper  terms,  either  of  praise  or  censure.  We  are 
not  ashamed  to  say,  that  we  look  with  admiration,  and  almost 
with  awe,  upon  these  stem  patriots  and  martyrs ;  ambitious, 
but  to  gain  no  earthly  crown ;  burning  with  enthusiasm,  yet 
severe  and  immovable,  as  if  inaccessible  to  human  passion ; 
inflexible  and  haughty  to  man,  because  reverence  was  due 
only  to  the  Most  High ;  despising  all  accomplishments  and  all 
learning,  because  they  counted  them  as  nothing,  in  comparison 
with  religion  and  the  word  of  God.     But  the  state  of  feeling 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  69.  67 


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44ft  Sftultet  m  Poitry.  [Oet. 

and  opbioDy  which  it  was  their  great  purpose  to  maintaki,  wasr 
in  some  respects  false  and  unnatural.  While  they  labored  to 
elevate  the  mind,  the  tendency  of  some  of  their  efforts  couk) 
be  only  to  degrade  it.  They  saw  literature  prostituted  some- 
times to  unworthy  purposes ;  and  they  straightway  denounced 
it  all  as  an  abominatioB.  One  might  almost  forgive  this  preju** 
dice,  if  it  had  been  founded  on  the  writings  of  those,  who  have 
been  strangely  denominated  metaphysical,  as  if  metaphysics 
were  only  another  name  for  every  species  of  extravagance. 
These  Malvolios  of  English  literature,  of  whom  Donne  was 
the  common  father,  and  Cowley  the  anointed  king,  contented 
themselves  with  corrupting  what  the  Puritans  were  anxious  to 
destroy.  Their  writings  appear  to  us  to  be  a  vivid  delineation 
of  the  intellectual  character  and  taste  of  King  James ;  who  by 
a  cruel  insult  to  the  wise  king  of  Israel,  has  been  sometimes 
called  the  English  Solomon.  They  found  the  age  pedantic ; 
and  they  labored  with  eminent  success  to  render  it  still  more  so» 
Never  did  poetry  revel  in  such  wanton  extravagance  and  ab- 
surdity. With  them,  sighs  were  breathed  in  tempests ;  tears 
were  poured  forth  like  the  universal  deluge  ;  love  was  nothing- 
short  of  a  covf  de  soUil  beneath  the  tropics ;  pride  was  the 
temperature  of  the  arctic  circle ;  and  a  lover's  heart  a  hand* 
grenade.  It  is  sufficiently  obvious,  that  the  taste  for  this  ex- 
travagance was  not  created  by  those  who  thus  employed  it ; 
for  the  prose  writings  of  some  of  them,  of  Cowley  for  exam- 
ple, are  full  of  simplicity,  grace,  and  beauty.  Indeed,  the 
mere  existence  of  the  metaphysical  style  is  a  sufficient  proof, 
&at  if  the  readers  of  poetry  at  this  time  were  not  indifferent  to- 
it,  they  were  at  least  not  very  scrupulous  in  their  selections. 
The  most  exalted  eulogies  were  lavished  upon  Cowley ;  and 
even  Milton  did  not  refuse  to  praise,  what  he  disdained  to 
imitate.  Signs  of  a  more  correct  taste  began  to  be  visible,  ia 
the  languid  smoothness  of  Waller,  and  the  correct  mediocrity 
of  Denham  ;  but  with  what  surpassing  glory  does  the  venera- 
ble form  of  Milton  appear  in  the  midst  of  an  age  like  this  i 
His  grand  and  meknchdiy  genius  was  almost  as  far  removed 
from  that  of  his  contempcNraries,  as  his  immortal  subject  was 
elevated  above  all  earthly  things.  So  far  from  being  indebted 
to  his  age,  he  was  both  beyond  it  and  above  it ;  and  it  is 
hardly  too  much  to  say,  that  he  would  have  been  beyond  and 
above  any  other  in  the  history  of  man.  It  is  no  reproach  to 
bis  own,  tliat  men  heard  his  voice,  and  comprehended  it  not; 


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1830.]  Studm  in  Poetry.   '  447 

for  what  standard  was  there,  among  the  poets  of  the  time,  by 
which  they  could  hope  to  measure  such  elevation  as  hb  ? 

The  stem  rigor  of  the  Puritans  was  at  length  followed  by 
its  natural  reaction ;  and  the  literature  of  the  age  of  Charles  II. 
was  a  faithful  transcript  of  (he  character  of  that  degraded  sen* 
sualist,  and  still  more  degraded  king.  It  is  easy  to  conceive, 
what  the  worshippers  must  have  been  in  the  temple  of  vice  and 
folly,  in  which  Sedky,  and  Etherege,  and  Buckingham,  and 
Rochester,  were  chief-priests.  '  The  fools  of  David's  age,'  says 
Sir  William  Temple,  '  those  who  have  said  in  their  hearts,  there 
is  no  Grod,  have  become  the  wits  of  ours.'  The  personal  char* 
acter  of  a  kbg  is  never  without  its  influence,  and  in  this  instance 
it  was  all-powerful ;  but  it  was  only  for  the  purposes  of  evil. 
In  the  school  of  severe  adversity,  where  the  milder  virtues  are 
commonly  taught,  he  had  learned  notliing  but  vice,  disguised 
under  the  name  of  pleasure.  Ridicule  was  the  fashion  of  the 
day  ;  and  the  subjects  of  that  ridicule  were  all  things  that  are 
venorable  and  holy.  Depravity  lost  nothing  of  its  evil,  be- 
cause it  lost  nothing  of  its  grossness  ;  it  was  tolerated  in  all  its 
grossness,  and  adored  in  all  its  defprmity.  It  was  not  surpris- 
ing, that  the  want  of  just  moral  sentiment  should  be  accom- 
panied by  the  debasement  of  literary  taste.  Their  tastes,  as 
well  as  their  fashions,  were  alike  borrowed  from  the  French, 
who  returned  the  obligation  by  regarding  England  as  a  nation 
of  barbarians.  St.  Evremond  passed  twenty  years  in  Eng- 
land without  acquiring  the  slightest  knowledge  oi  the  language ; 
while  ignorance  of  the  French  language  was  regarded  by  the 
English  as  a  greater  crime  than  the  violation  of  every  precept 
of  the  decalogueu  The  worst  defects  of  French  literature 
were  copied  and  exaggerated.  Settle  became  a  greater  poet 
than  Dryden,  until  the  latter  stooped  from  his  mountain-height 
and  the  mid-day  sun,  to  grovel  in  the  dark  recesses  of  a  pol- 
luted theatre.  The  influence  of  a  licentious  court  was  visible 
also  upon  other  minds ;  degrading  powers  which  should  have 
been  devoted  to  high  purposes,  and  repressing  eveiy  display  of 
natural  feeling  by  a  general  chorus  of  ridicule  and  scorn. 

In  passing  from  this  period  to  the  beginning  of  the  next 
century,  we  seem  to  be  coming  forth  from  the  suflbcation  and 
gloom  of  the  charnel-house  to  the  fresh  air  and  clear  light  of 
heaven.  We  shall  have  occasion  presently  to  make  a  few  re- 
marks upon  the  characters  of  some  of  the  most  distinguished 
poets  of  that  time;  and  we  will  only  observe  here,  diat  we 


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448  Studies  in  Poetry.  [Oct 

have  no  knowledge  of  any  period  in  English  history,  in  which 
poetry  was  the  object  of  more  general  regard,  than  it  was  from 
the  begbning  until  the  middle  of  that  century.  The  circum- 
stances to  which  we  have  alluded,  furnish  sufficient  evidence 
that  the  popular  taste  has  been  often  perverted ;  but  they  give 
no  evidence  of  indifference  in  regard  to  poetry,  like  that  which 
is  believed  to  prevail  at  this  day.  We  call  the  present  an  age 
of  great  intellectual  excitement ;  of  keen  and  resdess  enter* 
prise ;  and  of  deeper  insight  into  hidden  mysteries,  than  any 
of  which  the  record  has  yet  come  down.  tVhy  then  i^ould 
the  purest  and  not  the  least  elevated  department  of  intellect  be 
regarded  with  coldness  and  neglect?  The  true  object  of  poe- 
try is  to  subject  the  senses  to  the  soul ;  to  raise  the  mind 
above  all  low  and  sordid  purposes,  and  to  fix  its  desires  upcm 
things  which  are  honorable  and  high.  If  we  receive  it  with 
indifference  and  scorn ;  if  we  refuse  to  listen  to  its  voice,  the 
loss  is  ours ;  we  are  casting  away  the  surest  means  to  lift  our 
thoughts  from  the  dust — ^the  noblest  bstrument  to  elevate  and 
purify  the  heart. 

The  moral  tendencies  of  English  poetry  are  such,  on  the 
whole,  as  the  friend  of  virtue  has  much  reason  to  approve. 
There  have  certainly  been  ommous  examples  of  the  degrada* 
tion  and  perversion  of  exalted  powers ;  but  the  waters  of  ob- 
livion have  ahready  closed  over  some,  and  will  sooner  or  later 
overwhelm  the  rest.  It  is  idle  at  this  day  to  say  any  thing  of 
the  moral  influence  of  Chaucer ;  we  might  as  well  enlarge 
upon  the  absurdity  of  the  Koran.  Spenser,  however,  con- 
tbues  to  be  read,  though  not,  we  apprehend,  by  a  large  class  of 
readers.  There  is  abundant  reason  to  regret,  that  the  tedious^ 
ness  of  the  allegory,  which  constitutes  the  story  of  the  *  Fairy 
Queen,'  should  have  withdrawn  from  it  the  public  favor ;  for 
it  is  the  production  of  a  mmd  overflowing  with  rich  and  pow- 
erful thought,  and  a  fancy  full  of  all  delightfiil  creatbns---4fae 
beautiful  tdeal  of  chivalry,  when  chivahy  was  only  another 
name  for  a  combination  of  aU  the  virtues.  The  poet  ap- 
pears to  have  forsaken  this  lower  sphere,  to  hold  communion 
with  superior  beings ;  and  how  could  it  be  expected,  that  the 
friend  of  Sidney  and  Raleigh — those  brightest  spirits  of  an 
age  not  wanting  in  generous  and  lofty  ones — should  be  insen- 
sible to  the  injQuence  of  their  romantic  sentiment,  as  it  was 
illustrated  and  personified  in  the  moral  beauty  of  their  lives  ? 
It  was  their  influence  by  which  be  was  led  to  devote  himself^ 


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1830.]  Studies  in  Poetry.  449 

not  to  the  study  and  description  of  man  as  he  is,  but  as  ro* 
roaoce  and  chivalry  would  make  him.     It  was  this,  which  in- 
duced him,  instead  of  producing  a  grand  historical  picture,  to 
which  his  powers  were  more  than  adequate,  to  execute  fancy- 
pieces  only — glowing  indeed  with  richness  and  beauty,  but 
deficient  in  the  interest  and  life,  which  such  talent,  emplo3red 
upon  more  propitious  subjects,  could  not  fail  to  bestow.     He 
chose  a  department,  in  which  many  have  failed,  and  in  which 
scarcely  any  one  but  John  Bunyan  has  succeeded  ;  and  how 
much  of  his  power  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  awful  realities  of 
his  subject !     Still,  it  is  the  praise  of  Spenser,  that  he  conse- 
crated his  delightful  harmony,  his  beautiful,  and  not  unfre-* 
quently  sublime  description,  and  all  the  creations  of  an  imagi- 
nation of  unrivalled  splendor,  and  of  invention  almost  bound- 
less, wholly  to  the  cause  of  virtue.     Would  that  the  same 
praise  were  equally  due  to  his  far  greater  contemporary  !   Bat 
Shakspeare  wrote  apparently  without  any  moral  purpose  ;  he 
took  the  tales  which  ancient  chronicles  affi>rded  him,  or  chance 
threw  in  his  viray,  and  by  his  inspiration  he  created  a  living 
soul  under  these  ribs  of  death.     If  they  gave  him  a  moral,  it 
was  weU.     Now,  we  hear  strains  which  seem  to  flow  from  a 
seraph's  lyre ;  presently,  those  which  the  depths  of  vulgarity 
could   hardly  essay  to  rival.     Moral  d^ity  and   disgustmg 
coarseness,  die  loftiest  sublimity  and  the  lowest  grossness,  are 
occasionally  blended  together  like  the  hovels  and  palaces  of  a 
Russian  city.     Ingratitude  is  denounced  (and  how  denounc- 
ed !)  in  the  heart-rending  agony  of  Lear  ;  the  dreadful  penalty 
of  guilty  ambition  and  the  keen  anguish  of  late  remorse  are 
displayed  with  terrific  power  in  Macbeth  ;  while  in  Hamlet  we 
see  only  a  spirit  crushed  and  broken  beneath  a  burden  which 
it  cannot  bear — ^faithfiil  to  duty,  but  over-mastered  by  the  con- 
sciousness, that  fate  has  imposed  upon  it  a  duty  beyond  its 
ability  to  do.     But  who  can  point  us  to  the  moral  purpose  of 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  or  the  Merchant  of  Venice,  or  of  Cymbe- 
line  ?     The  heart,  with  all  its  high  aspirings,  its  guilty  depths, 
its  passions,  its  affections  and  its  powers,  was  laid  full  and 
open  to  Shakspeare's  view ;  all  the  elements  of  incomparable 
genius,  and  every  divine  gift,  were  imparted  to  him  with  a  lib- 
erality hardly  ever  vouchsafed  by  Providence  to  man  before  ; 
but  he  looked  upon  man  and  nature  without  looking  beyond 
them  to  the  Grod  of  all ;  and  thus  the  mind  which  was  formed 
far  all  succeedmg  ages,  and  compounded  of  all  imaginable 


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450  Studies  in  Poetry.  [Oct 

glories,  astonished,  instructed,  overawed,  and  delighted  men, 
without  making  them  better.  It  is  presumptuous  to  say  what 
Shakspeare  might  have  been,  when  human  eloquence  can 
hardly  adequately  tell  what  Shakspeare  was ;  but  we  believe 
that  he  was  too  often  induced  by  a  fancied  necessi^  to  sacn- 
fice  his  own  superior  thoughts  to  the  influences  of  an  age 
which  '  thought  no  scorn'  of  grossness,  such  as  would  sick^i 
the  purer,  though  not  fastidious  taste  of  ours.  The  descent 
was  not  wholly  nor  always  voluntary ;  though  the  gratification  of 
minds  as  far  below  his  own  as  the  sparrow's  is  lower  than  the 
eagle's  flight,  can  hardly  excuse  the  aberrations  of  an  intellect 
like  his* 

The  moral  mfluence  of  the  drama  has  not  in  general  been 
of  the  most  exalted  kind.  The  reason  of  this  is  ^ot  that  it  is 
incapable  of  being  rendered  full  of  mstruction ;  or  that  it  is  in 
its  nature  at  all  inferior  m  this  respect  to  any  other  description 
of  poetry.  On  the  contrary,  there  is  perhaps  no  form  of  com- 
position in  which  the  most  elevated  lessons  can  be  brought  more 
directly  home  to  the  heart — none  in  which  those  sentiments,  by 
which  our  minds  are  said  to  be  purified,  can  be  more  impress 
sively  or  forcibly  displayed.  It  may  thunder  fortli  its  warnings 
and  threatenings  with  the  awful  energy  of  inspiration  ;  it  may 
utter  tlie  burning  accents  of  intense  and  overwhelming  pas- 
sion ;  it  may  allure  or  terrify  us  with  the  solemn  persuasion  of 
real  and  livmg  example.  In  these  respects,  it  occasionally 
goes  beyond  other  poetry  as  far,  as  the  quivering  muscles,  the 
distorted  features  and  the  convulsive  agony  of  the  victim  of 
actual  torture  may  be  supposed  to  aflbrd  a  more  vivid  idea  of 
suffering,  than  the  marble  Laocoon.  The  evil  is,  that  in  hold- 
ing the  mirror  up  to  life,  it  reflects  all  the  images  towards 
which  its  surface  may  chance  to  be  directed.  In  the  sister, 
but  inferior  arts  of  painting  and  sculpture,  the  human  form  is 
represented,  not  with  its  blemishes,  not  in  its  deformity,  but 
with  something  of  the  purity  of  ideal  perfection ;  and  thus  the 
representations  of  poetry,  so  far  as  respects  then*  effect,  should 
be  adapted  to  the  desires  of  the  mind ;  they  should  present  us, 
not  with  that  which  may  sometimes  be,  for  that  would  excuse 
all  possible  grossness  ;  but  in  humble  imitation  of  the  obvious 
system  of  Providence,  they  should  labor  to  exhibit  virtue  in  all 
its  loveliness  smd  beauty,  without  throwing  an  unnatural  gloss 
and  attraction  over  sensuality  and  vice.  How  often  have  men 
forgotten,  that  the  only  true  object,  and  all  the  read  digoitfr  q£ 


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18S0.]  Studies  in  Poetry.  4il 

literature  are  lost  sight  of,  when  it  is  designed  to  charm  only, 
and  not  to  elevate !  It  may  be  said,  that  the  purpose  of  the 
dramatic  writer  is  to  please,  and  his  productions  must  therefore 
be  adapted  to  the  taste  of  his  judges ;  but  the  cause  of  any 
fault  can  hardly  be  pleaded  as  its  apology. 

Passing  over  the  dramatic  writers,  we  come  again  to  Milton. 
He  stood  apart  from  all  earthly  things.  He  may  be  likened  to 
that  interpreter  of  the  mysterious  things  of  Providence,  who 
sits  in  the  bright  circle  of  the  sun  ;  while  Shakspeare  resem- 
Ues  rather  the  spirit  created  by  his  own  matchless  imagination, 
which  wanders  over  earth  and  sea,  with  power  to  subdue  all 
minds  and  hearts  by  the  influence  of  his  magic  spell.  The 
poetry  of  Milton  is  accordingly  solemn  and  dignified,  as  well  be- 
comes the  moral  sublimity  of  his  character,  and  the  sacredness 
of  his  awful  theme.  His  mind  appears  to  have  been  elevated 
by  the  glories  revealed  to  his  holy  contemplation  ;  and  his  in* 
spiration  is  as  much  loftier  than  that  of  other  poets,  as  bis  sub- 
ject was  superior  to  theirs.  It  is  superfluous  to  say,  that  his 
moral  influence  is  always  pure ;  for  how  could  it  be  otherwise 
with  such  a  mind,  always  conversant  with  divine  things,  and  filled 
with  the  sublimest  thoughts  ?  Yet  it  has  been  sometimes  said, 
that  the  qualities  with  which  he  has  endued  that  most  wonderful 
of  all  poetical  creations,  the  leader  of  the  fallen  angels,  are  too 
fearfully  sublime,  to  be  regarded  with  the  horror  and  aversion^ 
which  they  ought  naturally  to  inspire.  He  is  indeed  invested 
with  many  sublime  attributes ; — ^the  fierce  energy,  unbroken 
by  despair — ^the  unconquerable  will,  which  not  even  the  thun- 
ders of  the  Almighty  can  bend ; — but  these  qualities,  though 
they  may  fill  us  with  wonder  and  awe,  are  not  attractive.  His 
tenderness  is  only  the  bitterness  of  remorse,  without  end  and 
hopeless ;  his  self-devotion  is  only  the  result  of  wild  ambition ; 
and  a  dreadful  retribution  at  length  falls  upon  him,  *  according 
to  his  doom.'  In  this  exhibition  of  character,  there  is  un- 
doubtedly vast  intellectual  power,  but  there  is  nothing  redeem- 
ing— ^nothing  which  can  win  the  soul  to  love.  We  dread  the 
e^ct  of  those  delineations,  in  which  crime,  from  which  nature 
recoils,  is  allied  to  qualities,  with  which  we  involuntarily  sym- 
pathise ;  such  portraits  are  of  evil  tendency,  because  though 
unnatural,  they  are  still  attractive  ;  but  great  crime  frequendy 
supposes  the  existence  of  imposing  traits  of  character,  which 
may  excite  admiration,  without  engaging  sympathy.  We  are 
interested  in  Conrad,  because  his  fierce  and  gloomy  spirit  is 


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462  Studies  in  Poetry.  [Oct 

mastered  by  the  passion,  which  masters  all ; — because  ia  him 
it  is  deep  and  overwhelming,  yet  refined  and  pure — ^like  the 
token,  which  restored  the  repenting  Peri  to  Eden — the  re-* 
deembg  and  expiatory  virtue,  which  shows  that  the  light  of  the 
soul,  however  darkened,  is  not  extinguished  altogether — and 
we  do  not  ask,  how  purity  and  love  can  find  their  refuge  in  a 
pirate's  bosom — ^we  do  not  remember,  that  they  could  as  hardly 
dwell  there,  as  Abdiel  among  the  rebel  host.  Not  so  the 
ruined  Archangel.  In  him  all  may  be  grand  and  imposing,  but 
all  is  dark,  stern,  and  relentless.  If  there  be  aught  to  admire, 
there  is  at  least,  nothing  to  imitate.  Through  all  the  writings 
of  Milton,  there  reign  a  loftiness  and  grandeur,  which  seem 
to  raise  the  soul  to  the  standard  of  his  own  elevation.  The 
finest  minds  have  resorted  to  them  for  ihe  rich  treasures  of  elo- 
quence and  wisdom ;  and  they  might  also  find  in  them  the 
more  enduring  treasures  of  piety  and  virtue. 

We  have  already  found  occasion  to  offer  some  remarks  upon 
the  literature  of  the  age  of  Charles  II.  It  is  a  subject,  on 
which  we  have  little  inclination  to  dwell ;  but  it  is  with  sorrow 
and  shame,  that  we  see  the  influence  of  such  an  age  exhibited 
upon  a  mind  like  that  of  Dryden.  They  drove  him  to  devote 
powers  intended  for  nobler  purposes,  to  gratify  the  polluted 
tastes  of  a  shameless  court ;  and,  by  a  just  retribution,  his  dra- 
matic compositions  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  survived  him  ; 
not  one  of  them  is  at  this  day  acted,  or  generally  read.  We 
see  him  first,  embalming  the  blessed  memory  of  the  Lord  Pro- 
tector,— ^then,  exulting  in  his  Sacred  Majesty's  most  happy 
restoration, — next,  fabricating  rhyming  tragedies  to  gratify  the 
French  prejudices  of  a  king,  who  was  not  ashamed  to  become 
the  pensioner  of  France,  or  lascivious  comedies  to  minister  to 
the  grovelling  inclinations  of  the  Defender  of  the  Faith — pre- 
sently, descending  like  one  of  Homer's  deities,  to  the  field  of 
polkical  and  religious  controversy.  Thus  the  intellect,  which 
was  formed  to  illuminate  the  world,  was  quenched  in  the 
obscurity  of  low  or  temporary  subjects ;  thus,  with  power  to 
,  become  a  great  reformer,  he  chose  to  follow  in  the  track  of 
vulgar  prejudices ;  instead  of  asserting  his  just  rank  as  a  sove- 
reign, he  made  himself  a  slave  ;  and  the  result  is  before  us  in 
the  fact,  that  his  reputation  is  now  almost  wholly  traditional, 
and  would  hardly  be  known  otherwise,  but  for  the  noble  Ode 
for  St.  Cecilia's  day.  We  are  not  insensible  to  the  unsur- 
passed excellence  of  his  versification,  or  the  blasting  power  of 


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1830.]  Studies  in  Poetry.  453 

his  satire ;  but  the  traces  of  elevated  moral  sentiment  and  of  ad- 
miration or  even  perception  of  the  grand  and  beautiful  in  nature 
and  in  character,  are  rarely  to  be  discovered  in  his  writings. 
Perhaps  he  was  cautious  of  displaying  what  must  have  excited 
the  immeasurable  contempt  of  the  wits  by  whom  he  was  sur- 
rounded. 

The  beginning  of  the  last  century  was  distinguished  by  the 
genius  of  Pope ;  of  whom  nothing  can  now  be  said,  that  has 
not  frequently  been  said  before.  There  are  still  many,  who 
persist  in  denying  his  tide  to  the  honors  of  the  poetical  charac- 
ter, with  a  zeal,  which  nothing  but  the  ancient  penalties  of 
heresy  will  be  able  to  subdue.  If,  however,  he  has  been  as- 
sailed by  Bowles,  he  has  found  no  vulgar  champions  in  Byron 
and  Campbell ;  and  if  he  were  living  now,  it  would  doubtless, 
in  the  language  of  Burke,  *  kindle  in  his  heart  a  very  vivid 
satisfaction  to  be  so  attacked  and  so  commended.'  It  is  not 
easy  to  believe  him  to  have  been  the  least  among  the  poets, 
who  could  shoot  With  such  unequalled  brilliancy  into  the  upper 
sky,  while  Addison  was  still  in  the  ascendant,  and  when  the 
star  of  Dry  den  had  hardly  yet  gone  down.  Nature  was  not 
perhaps  always  regarded  by  him  with  a  poet's  eye ;  for  it 
seemed  then,  as  if  she  was  to  be  abandoned  to  pastorals;  as  if 
one  might  scarcely  venture  to  go  forth  into  the  country,  without 
arming  himself  with  a  shepherd's  crook.  But  he  was  the  poet 
of  manners  and  of  social  life  ;  and  it  is  not  the  smallest  of  his 
merits,  that  he  made  poetry  familiar  to  thousands,  who  had 
never  felt  its  influence  before.  The  tendency  of  his  wTitings 
is  precisely  what  might  be  expected  from  a  knowledge  of  his 
character — a  character,  of  which  Johnson,  whose  praise  issues 
forth  like  a  confession  extorted  by  the  rack,  is  compelled  to 
speak  in  general  with  commendation.  Early  and  unrelieved 
infirmity  rendered  him  irritable,  while  the  unbounded  admira- 
tion which  was  so  profusely  lavished  upon  him,  made  him  vain  5 
and  both  these  qualities  are  abundantly  exhibited  in  some  of 
his  writings,  where  the  sins  of  his  enemies  are  visited  upon 
those  who  had  never  oflTended  him,  and  character  is  wantonly 
invaded,  apparently  with  the  sole  design  of  displaying  his  ex- 
traordinary power.  In  some  instances,  he  aims  to  rival  the 
unapproachable  vulgarity  of  Swift ;  but  the  wit  is  a  poor  atone- 
ment for  the  grossness. 

The  Rape  of  the  Lock  was  denounced  by  the  frantic  criti- 
cism of  Dennis,  as  deficient  in  a  moral ;  while  Johnson,  with 

VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  68 


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454  Studies  in  Poetry.  [Oct 

his  usual  politeness,  thought  no  moral  more  laudable  than  the 
exposure  of  mischiefs  arising  from  the  freaks  and  vanity  of 
women.  It  is  obvious  /enough,  however,  that  Pope,  except  m 
the  Essay  on  Man,  and  perhaps  in  his  epistles  and  satires,  had 
rarely  any  moral  purpose  in  his  view ;  but  it  would  be  difficult 
to  defend  the  morality  of  the  verses  to  the  Memory  of  an  Un- 
fortunate Lady,  or  of  some  of  his  imitations  of  Chaucer.  We 
are  often  told,  that  satire  is  a  powerful  auxiliary  of  truth ;  and 
there  is  no  doubt,  that  even  while  indulging  in  the  gratification 
of  personal  resentment,  or  any  other  equally  ignoble  passion^ 
the  satirist  may  promote  that  cause,  by  his  denunciations  of 
vice  and  folly  ;  though  the  effect  will  certainly  be  diminished 
by  the  meanness  of  the  motive.  But  he  is  too  apt  to  grow  so 
warm  in  the  cause,  as  totally  to  overlook  the  higher  object,  in 
bis  zeal  to  overwhelm  an  adversary,  or  to  take  vengeance  upon 
the  world,  for  the  fancied  neglect  or  injury  of  a  single  individ- 
ual. In  addition  to  this,  he  is  often  seduced  by  the  popularity 
which  is  sure  to  attend  invective  against  some  fashionable  vice 
or  folly,  of  which  the  succeeding  age  retains  no  traces ;  so  that 
the  fashion  and  the  reproof  soon  perish  together.  His  object 
may  be  a  laudable  one,  though  it  will  be  far  less  important,  and 
far  less  lasting  in  its  effect,  than  it  would  be,  if  he  should  expose 
vice  and  imperfection  as  they  exist  universally,  and  at  all  times. 
The  satires  of  Donne  are  now  forgotten,  notwithstanding  the 
rich  drapery  which  Pope  thought  fit  piously  to  throw  over  his 
old-fashioned  and  somewhat  ragged  habiliments.  Those  of 
Dryden — as  we  have  already  intimated — ^were  founded  upon 
subjects  of  local  or  temporary  interest.  His  Absalom  and 
Achitophel  was  levelled  at  a  faction,  which  soon  experienced 
the  fate  of  all  other  factions ;  his  Medal  was  virritten  upon  the 
occasion  of  Shaftesbury's  escape  from  tlie  fangs  of  a  grand 
jury ;  and  his  Mac  Flecknoe,  for  the  laudable  end  of  extermi- 
nating his  successor  in  the  Laureate^s  chair.  Young  is  less  lia- 
ble to  this  objection  than  any  other  English  satirist ;  but  great 
as  was  his  popularity  in  his  own  day,  his  Universal  Passion  has 
sunk  into  obscurity.  The  Vanity  of  Human  Wishes,  and 
London,  are  the  efiiisions  of  a  nervous  and  powerful  mind» 
more  strongly  tinctured  with  misanthropy  and  indignation,  than 
with  sound  philosophy.  In  our  own  times,  we  have  seen  Gif- 
ford  marching  forth  with  the  port  and  bearing  of  Goliath, 
against  a  host  of  butterflies,  who  naturally  enough  tocJc  wing, 
flt  the  din  and  fury  of  his  onset ;  and  we  have  seen  Byron  also» 


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1830.]  Studies  in  Poetry.  455 

visiting  the  coarse  malignity  of  a  single  reviewer  upon  all  his 
literary  brethren,  with  a  wantonness  and  injustice,  which  he 
was  himself  the  first  to  regret.     We  may  thus  perceive,  that  if 
satire  be  the  instrument  of  virtue,  it  is  so  often  borrowed  for 
other  purposes,  that  virtue  is  not  always  able  to  employ  it 
for  her  own ;  and  when  those  other  purposes  have  been  ac- 
complished, the  benefit — if  there  be  any — ^is  not  permanent. 
The  artillery  may  remain,  but  the  foe  has  vanished.     Some  of 
Pope's  satires  are  of  universal  and  lasting  application ;  but  the 
Dunciad  is  little  better  than  a  monument  of  wrath,  erected  in 
memory  of  departed  and  forgotten  dunces. 
*     The  English  poetry  of  the  last  century  was,  upon  the  whole, 
more  elevated  in  its  moral  tone,  than  that'  of  any  former  pe- 
riod.    It  may  be  considered  as  a  cause  as  well  as  an  evidence 
of  this  superiority,  that  some  of  the  most  eminent  writers  at  its 
commencement,  who  exerted  a  powerful  influence  over  public 
taste  and  sentiment,  were  men  of  pure  and  unquestionable 
character.     Addison  was  then  at  the  meridian  of  his  stainless 
fame.     He  had  taught  the  world  a  lesson  which  it  was  too 
slow  to  learn,  that  the  attractions  of  wit  and  eloquence  may 
gracefully  be  thrown  around   truth  and   virtue ;  and   that   in 
order  to  become  a  good  and  popular  writer,  it  is  not  indispen-. 
sably  necessary  to  be  an  atheist  and  blasphemer.     If  he  is  de- 
ficient in  the  vigor  and  power  of  some  of  those  who  went 
before  him,  it  should  be  remembered,  that  the  character  of  his 
works  was  not  in  general  such  as  essentially  to  require,  or  to 
afibrd  very  full  opportunity  for  the  display  of  either.     His  main 
intention  was,  to  describe  life  and  manners ;  to  apply  the  force 
of  ridicule  to  the  foibles  and  follies,  as  well  as  to  the  faults  and 
vices  of  social  life ;  to  present  truth  and  morality  in  alluring 
colors,  to  those  who  had  been  previously  disgusted  at  its  stern 
and  repulsive  aspect;  and  it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  as  far  as 
the  influence  of  a  single  mind  could  go,  this  object  was  suc- 
cessfully accomplished.     The  same  praise  is  equally  due  to 
Richardson,  whose  name  seems  now  to  be  better  known  and 
more  respected  in  other  countries,  than  in  his  own.     One  who 
is  led  by  curiosity  to  read  his  novels,  though  he  cannot  fail  to 
read  them  with  interest,  and  to  admire  the  purity  of  the  senti- 
ment and  the  vivid  delineations  of  passion,  can  yet  hardly  form 
a   conception  of  their  popularity  when  they  first  appeared. 
Addison  taught  the  intellect  and  fancy,  and  Richardson  the 
passions,  to  move  at  the  command  of  virtue ;  the  influence 


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456  Studies  in  Poetry.  [Oct. 

of  both  was  great  and  extensive  over  the  sen^ents  and  taste 
of  others  ;  and  we  cannot  but  think,  that  much  of  the  superi- 
ority of  the  period  immediately  succeeding  that  in  which  they 
lived  to  that  which  preceded,  in  refinement  and  delicacy  at 
least,  if  not  in  morality,  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  example 
which  they  gave.  It  is  true,  that  the  essentiaUy  coarse  and 
vulgar  minds  of  Fielding  and  Smollett,  abounding  as  they  did 
in  humor  and  vivid  powers  of  describing  life  and  character,  did 
much  to  weaken  the  impression  which  Richardson  had  made ; 
nor  was  it  owing  to  any  want  of  effort,  that  they  failed  to  cor- 
rupt moral  sentiment  completely.  But  they  were  not  success- 
ful ;  and  any  one  who  will  turn  to  Southey's  Specimens  of  the 
later  English  Poets,  (we  cannot  find  it  m  our  hearts  to  ask  a 
fellow-creature  to  read  them  through,)  will  be  surprised  to  find 
in  how  few  instances  morals  and  decency  were  disregarded  or 
outraged  by  the  poets,  small  and  great,  of  any  part  of  the  last 
century.  It  is  impossible  to  speak  of  any  considerable  portion 
of  them  at  length,  nor  is  it  necessary.  We  will  barely  advert 
for  a  moment  to  three  of  them,  whose  writings  are  at  this  time 
more  generally  read  than  those  of  any  of  the  rest.  It  m^y  here 
be  observed,  however,  that  this  period  embraces  very  many 
names,  particularly  in  the  earlier  part  of  it,. of  which  England 
will  long  continue  to  be  proud.  With  all  its  variety  of  excel- 
lence, diere  is  little  that  savours  of  copyism  or  of  affectation. 
What  can  be  more  unlike,  than  the  mild  sweetness  of  Gold- 
smith, and  the  gloomy  magnificence  of  Young ;  tlie  gentle 
pathos  of  Collins,  and  the  homely  strength  of  Johnson ;  the 
plassical  elegance  of  Gray,  and  the  native  simplicity  of  Burns  ? 
There  are  few  who  do  not  love  to  contemplate  the  two  great 
masters  of  descriptive  English  poetry,  Thomson  and  Cowper ; 
with  whom  we  seem  to  converse  widi  the  intimacy  of  familiar 
friends,  and  almost  to  forget  our  veneration  for  the  poets,  in 
our  love  and  admiration  of  the  virtues  of  the  men.  Both  had 
pinds  and  hearts  which  were  touched  with  a  feeling  of  the 
beauty,  and  fitted  to  enjoy  the  influences  of  nature ;  and  the 
poetry  of  both  was  elevated  if  not  inspired,  by  religious  vene- 
ration of  the  Great  Author  of  the  grand  and  beautiful.  The 
view  of  Thomson  was  bold  and  wide  ;  it  comprehended  the 
whole  landscape;  he  delighted  to  wander  by  the  mountain- 
torrent,  and  in  the  winter's  storm  5  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
volume  of  nature  was  open  and  present  before  him.  It  is  not 
so  with  Cowper.     His  lowly  spirit  did  not  disdain  the  hum- 


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1830.]  Studies  in  Poetry.  457 

blest  thing  that  bore  the  impress  of  his  Maker's  hand ;  he 
looked  with  as  keen  an  eye  of  curiosity  and  admiration  upon 
the  meanest  flower  of  the  valley,  as  upon  the  wide  expanse, 
glittering  in  the  pure  brilliancy  of  winter's  evening,  or  bright 
with  the  dazzling  glory  of  the  summer  noon.  He  made  the 
voice  of  instruction  issue  from  the  most  familiar  things,  and  in- 
vested them  with  beauty,  hourly  seen,  but  never  felt  before ; 
and  he  painted  them  all  with  the  pure  and  delightful  coloring 
of  simplicity  and  truth.  Who  is  there,  but  must  wish,  that 
Burns  had  held  communion  with  such  minds,  and  resorted  to 
the  fountain  of  their  inspiration  ?  We  know  not  that  he  was 
inferior  to  either  in  quickness  to  feel,  or  power  to  describe,  all 
that  is  bright  and  alluring  in  nature  or  in  the  heart ;  but  there 
is  something  startling  in  the  dark  and  fierce  passions  which 
overshadowed  his  better  nature;  in  the  wild  and  reckless 
blasphemy,  by  which  he  insulted  man,  and  defied  his  (rod ; 
in  the  stunning  notes  of  that  frantic  debauchery,  by  which  he 
was  at  length  mastered,  and  brought  down  to  the  dust.  The 
feeling  of  devotion  steals  upon  him,  like  the  recollections  of 
earlier  and  happier  years ;  love,  pure  and  disinterested  love, 
subdues  sometimes  the  fury  of  his  soul  to  gentleness  and  peace ; 
his  proud  and  manly  spirit  appears  sometimes  to  burst  its  fet- 
ters, and  restore  the  wanderer  to  virtue ;  but  the  effort  is  over, 
and  it  is  vain.  He  sinks  into  the  grave,  friendless  and  broken- 
hearted, and  his  example  remains,  like  a  light  upon  a  wintry 
shore,  whose  rays  invite  us,  whither  it  would  be  death  lo 
follow. 

We  are  unwilling  to  enumerate  Rogers  and  Campbell  among 
the  poets  of  the  last  century,  though  the  great  works  of  both 
were  published  before  its  close,  and  though  the  latter  part  of 
it  is  so  far  inferior  to  the  first,  in  the  number  of  its  illustrious 
poetical  names,  as  to  require  some  such  addition  to  the  list. 
The  sweet  music  of  both  is  associated  with  our  most  pleasing 
recollections.  The  lyre  of  Rogers  resembles  an  instrument  of 
soft  and  plaintive  tone,  which  harmonises  well  with  the  mem- 
ory of  our  early  days ;  that  of  Campbell  is  no  less  sweet, 
but  deeper  and  more  powerful,  and  struck  with  a  bolder  hand. 
Both  are  in  strict  and  constant  unison  with  virtue.  Indeed, 
with  one  or  two  ominous  exceptions,  it  is  delightful  to  perceive 
the  moral  beauty  of  the  poetry  of  this  age  in  general.  Moore, 
it  is  true,  is  an  old  offender.  He  appears  to  have  composed 
the  lascivious  prettinesses  of  his  youth  much  in  the  same  man- 


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468  Studies  in  Poetry.  [Oct. 

ner,  as  the  unfledged  votaries  of  fashion  affect  the  reputation  of 
grace  and  gallantry ;  and  we  occasionally  find  symptoms  of 
love-making  in  his  verses  now,  which  it  is  high  time  for  a  per- 
son of  his  years  and  discretion  to  have  done  with.  It  is  the 
recollection  of  these,  which  goes  far  to  diminish  the  pleasure 
with  which  we  should  otherwise  welcome  his  sacred  and  lyric 
song.  But  what  shall  we  say  of  Byron,  riven  and  blasted  by 
the  lightning  of  his  own  relentless  passions — ^hurried  onward, 
often  against  the  persuasion  of  his  better  feelings,  as  the  sailor's 
bark  in  the  Arabian  tale  is  dashed  By  some  mighty  and  mys- 
terious impulse,  upon  the  fatal  rock  ?  The  light  that  was  in 
him  became  darkness ;  and  how  great  was  that  darkness  !  His 
example,  we  trust,  is  destined  rather  to  dazzle  than  to  blind; 
to  warn,  but  not  to  allure.  We  do  not  now  remember  any 
other  high  examples  of  this  moral  delinquency.  In  Words- 
worth, we  see  a  gentle  lover  of  nature,  always  simple  and  pure, 
and  sometimes  sublime,  when  he  does  not  labor  to  give  dignity 
to  objects  which  were  never  meant  to  be  poetical.  Southey's 
*  Gorgons  and  Hydras  and  chimeras  dire'  are  well-trained ; 
and  the  minstrelsy  of  Scott  is  of  a  higher  strain  than  that  of 
the  times  of  which  he  sung. 

Literature,  in  reference  to  its  moral  tendency,  is  of  three 
kinds ;  one  of  which  is  decidedly  pernicious ;  another,  indif- 
ferent in  its  character,  being  neither  very  hostile  nor  very  favor- 
able to  correct  sentiment;  and  a  third,  decidedly  pure  and 
happy  in  its  influence.  By  far  the  greater  part  of  English 
poetry  appears  to  us  to  belong  to  the  last  of  these  classes ;  but  . 
there  are  portions,  and  considerable  portions  too,  which  belong 
to  both  of  the  others.  We  seem  hardly  to  have  a  right  to 
claim,  that  it  should  always  be  actually  moral ;  and  yet  the 
writer,  who  forgets  this  object,  forgets  one  of  the  great  pur- 
poses for  which  his  talent  was  bestowed.  There  is  another 
error  for  which  poetry  is  responsible — ^that  of  presenting  false 
views  of  life.  Most  young  poets  are  as  desperately  weary  of 
the  world,  as  if  they  had  traversed  it,  and  found  it  all  vanity. 
We  learn  from  a  high  authority,  that  misery  is  the  parent  of 
poetry ;  but  we  shoiild  be  led  to  believe,  from  the  tone  of  many 
of  our  bards,  that  poetry  is  the  parent  of  misery.  Young  pro- 
posed to  draw  a  correct  picture,  in  his  True  Estimate  of  Hu- 
man Life.  He  published  that  part,  which  represented  it  in 
eclipse ;  but  the  bright  side  was  unhappily  torn  in  pieces  by 
some  lady's  misanthropic  monkey.    In  his  Night  Thoughts,  lite 


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1830.]  Studies  in  Poetry.  4fr9 

is  painted  in  no  very  alluring  colors ;  but  the  sunbeam  breaks 
through  the  dark  masses  of  the  cloud.  We  do  not  complain 
of  the  satirists  for  this ;  for  such  is  the  very  end  of  their  voca- 
tion. The  views  of  life  which  every  writer  presents,  will  be 
colored  in  some  degree  by  his  own  circumstances,  and  state  of 
feeling ;  but  we  suspect,  that  the  most  melancholy  poets  have 
not  in  general  been  the  least  inclined  to  enjoy  the  world  in  their 
capacity  of  men,  and  that  they  have  often  drawn  more  largely 
from  imagination  than  experience.  This  fault,  however,  is  not 
a  very  common  one  amodg  English  poets  of  the  highest  order. 
All  their  fauhs,  indeed,  are  few  and  small  in  comparison  with 
their  great  and  varied  excellences.  We  regard  it  as  an  extra- 
ordinary fact,  that  so  little  attention  has  been  paid  to  English 
literature  in  general,  by  those  who  must  be  considered  most 
competent  to  understand  its  value.  Our  systems  of  education 
make  our  youth  familiar  with  that  of  early  ages,  and  of  other 
nations ;  an  acquaintance  with  it  is  considered  indispensably 
necessary  for  every  gentleman  and  scholar ;  while,  litde,  com- 
paratively very  little,  has  been  done  to  acquaint  us  with  that 
which  we  may  call  our  own,  at  the  period  of  life  when  the 
heart  would  most  deeply  feel  the  beauty,  and  the  ear  be  most 
sensible  to  the  music  of  the  '  Lowland  tongue.'  Until  re- 
cently, no  provision  whatever  has  been  made  in  our  literary 
institutions,  either  to  turn  the  attention  of  the  student  towards 
it,  or  to  guide  him  in  his  voluntary  inquiries.  In  our  schools, 
English  poetry  has  been  employed  as  an  exercise  for  teaching 
boys  to  read, from  time  immemorial;  but  nothmg  has  been  said 
or  done  to  induce  the  pupil  to  believe,  that  the  poetry  was  origi- 
nally written  for  any  other  purpose.  Now,  without  undervalu- 
ing the  literature  of  other  countries  or  of  antiquity,  we  believe, 
that  the  business  of  education  is  only  half  accomplished,  so 
long  as  our  own  literature  is  neglected.  Within  a  few  years, 
a  better  spirit  has  been  visible  ;  but  we  are  not  yet  acquainted 
with  any  treatise  upon  the  subject  of  English  literature — any 
critical  examination  of  its  merits.  The  field  is  a  broad  one; 
and  we  trust,  it  will  not  long  be  justly  said,  that  its  treasures 
are  within  our  reach,  but  that  we  have  neither  solicitude  nor 
even  inclination  to  gather  them. 

We  are  pleased  with  this  volume,  both  because  it  offers  an 
indication  of  a  growing  interest  in  the  subject,  and  because 
the  tendency  of  such  works  will  be,  to  excite  attention  towards 
it.    Mr.  Cheever's  selections  in  general  affi>rd  evidence  of 


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4m  Hole's  Geographf.  [Oct. 

conrect  judgment  and  cultivated  taste.  We  should  hardly, 
however,  have  extracted  the  poetry  contained  in  the  Waverley 
novels,  in  order  to  give  the  most  exalted  idea  of  Scott's  poeti- 
cal genius ;  or  have  given  the  ^  Soldier's  Dream,'  as  one  of 
the  best  of  Campbell's  smaller  productions  ;  and  we  think  that 
in  his  selections  from  Southey  and  Moore,  tlie  compiler  might 
have  drawn  more  largely  from  the  earlier  writings  of  the  one, 
and  the  Irish  Melodies  of  die  otlier.  Nor  can  we  readily 
admit  the  equity  of  the  rule,  which  allows  to  Graham  and 
Bloomfield  twice  the  space  which  is  allotted  to  Pope.  But 
these  are  small  blemishes ;  and,  after  all,  it  is  by  no  means 
certain,  diat  readers  in  general  will  not  approve  his  taste,  at 
the  expense  of  ours.  The  selections  from  most  of  the  poets, 
ate  accompanied  by  well-written  and  discriminating  sketches 
of  the  characteristics  of  their  style.  On  the  whole,  though 
the  compilation  is  stated  to  have  been  made  for  the  use  of  £e 
young,  it  is  one,  which  persons  of  mature  age  may  read  with 
pleasure  and  advantage. 


Art.  Vni. — An  Epitome  of  Universal  Greography^  or  d 
Description  of  the  Various  Countries  of  the  Globe,  with 
a  View  of  their  Political  Condition  at  the  Present  Time. 
By  Nathan  Hale.     Bcfeton.     1830. 

The  author  of  this  work  is  afaready  known  as  a.  geographer  by 
his  excellent  Map  of  New  England  and  by  several  other  valuable 
contributions  to  Uie  science.  It  is  understood  that  he  has  been 
employed  for  some  years  past  in  collecting  materials  for  a  more 
extensive  work.  The  present  publication  has  been  looked  for 
with  a  good  deal  of  interest,  and  we  think  that  it  will  fully  satisfy 
the  general  expectation.  It  is  a  compendium  intended  principally 
for  the  use  of  schools,  and  better  fitted  for  its  purpose  on  several 
accounts  than  any  other  with  \^ich  we  are  acquainted.  The 
facts  are  selected  with  care  and  judgment,  and  stated  with 
the  well-known  accuracy  and  exactness  of  the  author.  The 
political  and  historical  parts  are  brought  down  to  the  present 
day,  and  include  a  notice  of  the  most  important  events  and 
arrangements  of  recent  date  in  Europe  and  Spanish  America. 
The  mode  of  distributbg  the  materials  is,  in  our  opinion, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Skh's  Geography.  461 

the  best  for  the  object  in  view.  The  work  is  accompanied  by 
a  list  of  questions,  which  facilitate  the  use  of  it  to  the  instructer 
and  the  pupil. 

In  addition  to  its  other  recommendations,  this  compend  in- 
cludes a  much  greater  number  of  maps  than  any  one  that  has 
yet  been  published.  This  advantage  has  been  obtained  by  the 
application  of  a  new  method  of  printing  maps  in  the  stereo- 
type form,  invented  and  patented  by  the  author,  and  of  which 
some  specimens  have  already  been  given  to  the  public  in  the 
Boston  Daily  Advertiser.  By  means  of  this  method,  our 
author  has  incorporated  the  maps  into  the  body  of  the  work, 
and  thus  at  once  facilitated  the  use  of  them,  and  enabled  the 
student  to  economise  more  than  half  the  expense,  which  has 
hitherto  been  necessary  for  the  purchase  of  school-books  in  this 
department.  The  price  of  the  volume  is  the  same  with  that  of 
the  abridgements  now  in  use,  or  a  dollar,  and  as  these  require  to 
be  accompanied  by  an  atlas,  wiiich  costs,  in  the  cheapest  form,  at 
least,  a  dollar  and  a  quarter,  the  purchaser  will  be  relieved  from 
this  additional  charge,  and  will  possess  a  collection  of  maps 
three  or  four  times  as  large  as  that  contained  in  a  common 
atlas.  This  circumstance  alone  will,  we  think,  be  sufficient  to 
introduce  the  work  into  general  use  in  schools,  and  will  give  it 
an  advantage  over  most  of  those  that  have  lately  been  pub- 
lished of  a  similar  description. 

We  have  remarked  above,  that  the  method  of  distribudng 
his  materials,  which  has  been  adopted  by  Mr.  Hale,  and  is  in 
substance  the  same  with  that  employed  in  the  most  approved 
preceding  treatises,  appears  to  us  to  be  the  best  for  the  object 
in  view.  We  are  aware  that  some  geographers  of  merit  and 
reputation  have  lately  adopted  a  different  one,  and  instead  of 
placing  under  the  head  of  each  particular  country  all  the  facts 
and  materials  that  serve  to  illustrate  its  geography  and  history, 
prefer,  for  the  basis  and  substantial  part  of  their  works,  a  more 
general  arrangement,  which  is  intended  to  give  at  once  a  com- 
plete view  of  the  whole  surface  of  the  globe  in  reference  to  each 
of  the  'ordinary  divisions  of  a  chapter.  Thus  instead  of  stating 
under  the  head  of  France  and  die  United  Statesj  that  these 
countries  are  situated  in  a  temperate  climate,  they  make  a  dis- 
tinct head  of  climate^  and  class  together  under  or  according  to 
their  respective  varieties  of  temperature  all  the  different  regions 
of  the  globe ;  and  so  of  the  other  divisions.  This  system,  though 
useful  perhaps  for  certain  purposes,  is  not,  we  think,  so  well 

VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  69 


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462  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct. 

adapted  for  young  students  as  tbe  one  in  common  use.  The 
great  object  in  practical  geography  is  to  connect  with  the 
names  of  the  difierent  states  and  kingdoms  of  the  globe  the 
largest  possible  number  of  statistical,  political  and  historical 
details,  in  order  that  when  we  meet  with  the  name  of  any 
country  in  reading  a  book  or  a  newspaper,  we  may  imme- 
diately have  before  our  minds  the  most  important  facts  that  are 
generally  known  or  necessary  to  be  known  respecting  it,  or  if 
we  have  not  them  already,  may  know  at  once  where  to  look 
for  them.  This  object  is  best  accomplished  by  distributing  the 
materials  under  the  heads  of  tlie  different  countries,  and  thus 
making  the  name  of  each  the  key  or  index,  which  naturally 
suggests  those  belonging  to  it  to  tlie  memory.  For  the  merely 
scientific  purpose  of  studying  geography  on  the  largest  scale, 
the  other  arrangement  might  perhaps  be  preferable,  although 
it  is  liable  even  for  this  purpose  to  the  objection  that  it  leads 
almost  unavoidably  to  continual,  repetition,  which,  by  swelling 
the  size  of  the  book,  occasions  of  course  a  proportional  ex- 
pense to  the  purchasers. 

Although  we  do  not  frequently  notice  works  of  a  merely 
elementary  description,  we  have  felt  it  our  duty  to  make  an 
exception  to  our  general  rule  on  this  occasion ;  and  we  do  it 
with  the  more  pleasure  in  favor  of  a  writer  to  whom  the  readers 
of  this  journal  are  indebted  for  several  interesting  articles  on 
subjects  connected  with  geographical  and  statistical  science. 
The  work  before  us  is  intended  immediately  for  the  use  of 
schools ;  but  from  its  great  accuracy  and  the  care  with  which 
the  materials  have  been  compiled,  will  also  be  found  for  other 
purposes  a  very  convenient  manual. 


Art.  IX. — Speeches  made  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  StateSy 
on  occasion  of  the  Resolution  offered  by  Mr.  Foot,  on  the 
Subject  of  the  Public  Lands,  during  the  First  Session  of 
the  Twenty-first  Congress, 

The  debates  of  a  deliberative  body,  under  a  free  govern- 
ment, are  not  always  intended  to  settle  particular  points  "or  des- 
patch single  matters  of  business,  by  a  close  discussion ;  but 
very  often  to  produce  general  impressions,  by  a  free  inter- 
change of  thought,  on  a  great  variety  of  topics.  The  debates 
in  Congress  are  complained  of, — ^we  have  made  the  complaint 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  463 

ourselves, — as  unreasonably  long,  discursive,  and  wanting  per- 
tinence to  any  matter  in  hand,  which  is  to  be  decided,  in  the 
result  of  the  debate,  or  mfluenced  by  the  mode,  in  which  it  is 
conducted.  But  the  instance  now  before  us  will  sufficiently 
illustrate  the  fact,  that  a  debate  may  possess  the  highest  inter- 
est and  really  be  of  great  importance,  although  it  may  be  hard 
to  tell  what  the  subject  is,  or  whetlier  it  has  any  subject. 

Till  the  administration  of  Mr.  JeiFerson,  it  was  the  custom 
for  each  House  of  Congress  to  return  an  answer  to  the  speech 
of  the  President,  delivered  at  the  opening  of  the  session.  In 
imitation  of  the  British  Parliament,  from  which  also  the  prac- 
tice of  answering  the  speech  was  borrowed,  it  was  usual  to 
make  this  answer  the  occasion  of  a  miscellaneous  debate,  on 
the  general  policy  of  the  administration.  This  debate  would 
naturally  be  as  various  in  its  topics,  as  the  message  of  iho  Pres- 
ident ;  and  be  likely  to  cover  at  least  every  contested  point  of 
public  policy.  In  this  way  a  debate  arose,  at  the  beginning  of 
several  sessions  of  Congress,  previous  to  Mr.  Jefferson's  ad- 
ministration ;  which,  as  no  particular  point  was  at  issue,  and  no 
specific  legislative  measure  in  discussion,  may  have  been 
thought  to  be  a  waste  of  public  time,  or  regarded  perhaps  as 
an  occasion  unnecessarily  furnished  for  drawing  into  contro- 
versy the  measures  of  the  executive.  By  changing  the  form 
of  the  annual  communication,  from  that  of  a  speech  to  that  of 
a  message,  the  necessity  of  an  answer  was  precluded.  It  would 
also  appear,  from  Mr.  Jefferson's  letter  to  Congress,  accom- 
panying his  message  and  announcing  the  change  proposed  to 
be  made,  in  the  practice  of  the  executive,  that  there  were  some 
circumstances  of  convenience  in  Philadelphia,  attending  tlie 
personal  communication  to  Congress  of  the  presidential  address, 
which  did  not  exist  in  Washington.* 

*  As  this  is  a  matter,  not  without  interest  in  the  parliamentary  his- 
tory of  the  country,  we  subjoin  Mr.  Jefferson's  letter. 

*Deccm6cr  8, 1801. 
*Sir, — ^The  circumstances  under  which  we  find  ourselves  at  this 
place,  Tendering  inconvenient  the  mode,  heretofore  practised,  of  mak- 
ing by  personal  address  the  first  communication  between  the  legislative 
and  executive  branches,  I  have  adopted  that  by  message,  as  used  on  all 
subsequent  occasions,  through  the  session.  In  doing  this,  I  have  had 
principal  regard  to  the  convenience  of  the  legislature,  to  the  economy 
of  their  time,  to  their  relief  from  the  embarrassment  of  immediate  an- 
swers on  subjects  not  yet  fully  before  them,  and  to  the  benefits  thence 
resulting  to  the  public  affairs.    Trusting  that  a  procedure  founded  in 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


464  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct 

Wljatever  were  the  motives,  which  dictated  this  change,  (an 
advantageous  one  upon  the  whole,)  it  was  wholly  nugatory  as 
a  measure  to  suppress  miscellaneous  debate.  The  very  na- 
ture of  a  representative  government,  and  of  free  parliamentary 
bodies  draws  with  it,  as  we  have  just  intimated,  the  necessity 
of  such  debate.  The  utmost  that  can  be  done,  by  usage  or 
parliamentary  law,  is,  to  impose  some  slight  restraints  on  the 
times,  at  which  it  may  arise,  and  the  extent  to  which  it  shall 
be  carried.  The  very  session,  when  this  change  took  place, 
in  the  mode  of  communicating  the  executive  address,  witnessed 
one  of  the  most  discursive  political  debates,  that  had  ever 
arisen  in  Congress,  that  on  the  Judiciary.  In  the  history  of 
the  session,  it  is  said, 

*  From  this  period,  the  debate  assumed  the  harshest  features 
of  party  antipathy  and  prejudice.  Few  of  the  following  speakers 
confined  themselves  to  the  merits  of  the  question,  while  many 
entirely  lost  sight  of  them,  in  the  vehemence  of  their  feelings. 
Whatever  of  prejudice  or  of  truth,  that  related  to  the  past,  pre- 
sent, or  expected  measures  of  the  Government,  was  liberally  and 
tiresomely  repeated,  until  the  patience  of  the  House,  apparently 
exhausted,  no  longer  brooked  delay.' 

And  after  recording  the  final  vote,  on  the  passage  of  the  bill, 
this  writer  adds,  *  thus  ended  this  gigantic  debate.'* 

We  have  on  a  former  occasion,f  considered  somewhat  at 
length  the  circumstances,  which  give  a  character  to  the  style  of 
debating  in  Congress,  and  will  only  here  repeat  the  idea,  that 
no  effectual  limits  can  be  put  to  the  number  and  length  of 
the  speeches,  but  those,  which  arise  from  press  of  business. 
Toward  the  close  of  each  session,  much  important  business 
passes  through  its  final  stages,  with  very  litde  debate.  In  pro- 
portion as  the  business  of  the  Union  to  be  transacted  by  Con- 
gress increases,  the  pressure  will  begin  to  be  felt  earlier  in  the 
session ;  and  the  days  and  weeks  now  wasted  on  unimportant 

these  motives  will  meet  their  approbation,  I  beg  leave  through  you  to 
communicate  the  eDclosed  message,  with  the  documents  accompemying 
it,  to  the  honorable  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  pray  you  to  ac- 
cept for  yourself  and  them  the  homage  of  my  high  respect  and  conside- 
ration. 

TH:  JEFFERSON. 
The  Honorable  the  Speaker  of  the  House  of  Representatives.' 

*  History  of  the  last  session  of  Congress,  which  commenced  Decem- 
ber 7th,  1801.    p.  70. 

\  North  American  Review  for  October,  1827.    Art  VIII, 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  465 

topics,  at  its  commencement,  will  be  redeemed  ta  assiduous 
legislation. 

The  debate  in  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  at  the  last 
session  of  Congress,  was  every  way  remarkable ;  and  for  the 
importance  of  the  nominal  subject  under  consideration,  the 
wide  range  of  the  general  discussion,  the  number  of  the  speak- 
ers, the  ability  of  many  of  the  speeches,  and  the  transcendent 
power  of  that,  which  gives  the  chief  notoriety  to  the  debate, 
stands  unsurpassed  in  hiterest,  in  our  parliamentary  annals.  It 
would  be  foreign  from  the  character  of  this  journal,  to  take  sides 
in  tliose  parts  of  this  discussion,  which  were  of  a  partisan  char- 
acter ;  but  having  from  the  foundation,  devoted  a  portion  of  our 
pages  to  the  discussion  of  very  grave  topics  of  elementary  poli- 
tics and  constitutional  law,  we  have  judged  it  not  improper  to 
submit  to  our  readers,  those  views,  which  have  presented  them- 
selves to  us,  in  the  general  reconsideration  of  this  controversy. 
It  would  perhaps  be  self-deception  to  say,  that  we  do  this,  sine 
ird  aut  studio,  quorum  causas  proeul  habemus  ;  but,  if  we  do 
not  mistake  ourselves,  we  do  it  with  feelings,  whether  of  favor 
or  aversion,  far  beyond  the  range  of  ordinary  party  excitement; 
feelings  chastened  with  the  most  solemn  persuasion,  that  the 
welfare  of  this  country,  tlie  happiness  of  our  children  to  the 
end  of  time,  and  the  cause  of  free  government  and  liberty, 
throughout  the  world,  are  at  stake,  in  the  decision  of  the  con- 
troversy carried  on  during  the  past  winter  in  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States. 

The  occasion  which  led  to  the  debate, — ^its  ostensible  sub- 
ject,— ^is  one  of  importance  undeniably  great,  and  on  this  we 
shall  first  say  a  few  words.  It  is  calculated,  that  the  entire 
superficies  of  the  States  and  Territories  organized  into  the  Fed- 
eral Union,  and  of  the  vast  region  west  of  them  to  the  Pacific, 
subject  to  the  Federal  Government,  amounts  to  more  than  four- 
teen hundred  millions  of  acres.  Of  this  vast  extent  of  country, 
the  ultimate  right  of  soil  to  one  thousand  and  sixty-fiye  millions 
of  acres  is  still  vested  in  the  United  States, — while  the  superfi- 
cies of  the  States  and  Territories,  as  owned  by  the  States  or 
their  citizens,  amounts  to  less  than  three  hundred  ancf  fifty  mil- 
lions of  acres.  It  is  true  that,  at  present,  these  three  hundred 
and  fifty  millions  of  acres,  in  which  the  United  States  have  no 
right  of  soil,  are  geographically  and  physically  of  vastly  greater 
importance  than  the  thousand  millions,  which  constitute  the 
public  domain.     But  with  every  year,  or  rather  with  every 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


466  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct. 

hour,  the  relative  importance  of  the  two  portions  of  the  country 
is  changing  ;  and  when  it  is  considered  that  withm  the  portion, 
of  which  the  right  of  soil  is  in  the  United  States,  are  compre- 
hended a  large  part  of  the  States  of  Alabama  and  Mississippi, 
and  a  very  great  portion  of  Indiana  and  Ulinois,  east  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi, and  almost  the  whole  of  the  region  west  of  it ;  it  requires 
no  very  prophetic  spirit  to  perceive,  that  whether  surveyed  in 
its  economical  or  its  political  connexions,  this  question  of  the 
public  domain  of  the  country  is  prodigiously  momentous. 

There  is  a  circumstance  too,  which  makes  it  as  delicate  as 
it  is  important.  There  are  about  one  hundred  and  seventy 
millions  of  acres  of  this  land  (including  that  to  which  the  In- 
dian title  has  not  been  extinguished)  in  the  States  of  Ohio, 
Indiana,  Illinois,  Mississippi,  Alabama,  Louisiana,  and  Missouri ; 
and  there  are  about  eigh^-five  millions  of  acres  ^also  includ- 
ing those  to  which  the  Indian  title  has  not  been  extmguislied) 
in  the  territories  of  Arkansas,  Florida,  and  Michigan,  which 
territories  will  in  the  course  of  time,  no  doubt,  become  mem- 
bers of  the  Federal  Union.  In  this  way,  we  see,  that  immensely 
large  portions  of  public  domain  are  included  within  the  limits 
of  the  state  sovereignties.  This  circumstance  will  eventually 
give  to  the  question  of  the  public  lands  an  interest  not  less  com- 
manding, than  that  possessed  by  the  question  of  the  Indians 
at  the  present  day.  Some  of  the  States  have  advanced  the 
claim,  that  the  State  Governments  have  a  jurisdiction  unshared 
by  the  United  States,  over  all  persons  living  within  their  boun- 
daries ;^  and  the  President  of  the  United  States  has  decided, 
that  he  has  no  power  to  protect  the  Indian  tribes,  having  trea- 
ties with  the  United  States,  against  the  exercise  of  that  juris- 
diction, it  being  in  his  opinion  an  essential  incident  of  State 
sovereignty.  In  like  manner,  in  several  of  the  States,  the 
claim  has  been  set  up,  that  the  States,  as  an  incident  of  sove- 
reignty, possess  the  title  to  the  soil  of  all  the  lands,  not  held  by 
individuals,  within  their  limits.  No  law  has  been  passed,  that 
we  know  of,  by  any  State,  to  take  possession  of  the  public 
lands ;  as  laws  have  been  passed  by  three  States,  extending 
their  jurisdiction  over  tribes  of  Indians,  with  whom  the  United 
States  have  subsisting  treaties.  But  the  State  of  Illinois  has 
addressed  a  memorial  to  Congress,  calling  for  a  change  in  the 

*  Thifl  proposition,  however,  is  obviously  groundless  in  reference 
evea  to  the  free  white  citizens. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  467 

mode  of  dbposing  of  the  public  lands,  within  the  limits  of  that 
State,  and  intimating,  that  if  this  call  is  not  satisfactorily  an- 
swered, grave  questions  will  arise ;  and  among  them,  *  whether 
in  reality  the  compact,  under  which  the  General  Government 
claims  these  extraordinary  powers,  is  consonant  to  the  rights 
reserved  to  the  States  respectively,  by  the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,  or  has  in  any  wise  been  granted  by  that  instru- 
ment ;  and  finaUy,  whether  the  tenure,  by  which  they  hold  the 
public  lands,  is  valid  and  binding  on  the  new  StatesJ*  The 
memorial,  from  which  we  quote  this  passage,  bears  no  date, 
but  was  presented  to  the  Senate  of  the  United  States,  on  tlie 
second  day  of  February,  1829.  The  Governor  of  Illinois,  Mr. 
Ninian  Edwards,  had,  in  a  message  to  the  Legislature  of  that 
State,  (as  we  have  understood,)  questioned  in  strong  terms  the 
title  of  the  United  States  to  the  public  lands,  within  the  limits 
of  the  States.  Notes  to  the  same  effect,  but  uttered  with  va- 
rious degrees  of  confidence  and  authority,  have  been  heard 
from  two  or  three  other  States,  both  at  home  and  on  the  floor 
of  Congress.  But  Indiana  alone,  we  believe,  has  undertaken 
to  decide  the  question.  On  the  ninth  of  January,  1829,  that 
State  adopted  a  resolution  by  all  the  branches  of  its  govern- 
ment, in  the  following  terms  :  *  Resolved  by  the  General  As- 
sembly of  the  State  of  Indiana,  that  this  State,  being  a  sove- 
reign, free,  and  independent  State,  has  the  exclusive  right  to 
the  soil  and  eminent  domain  of  all  the  unappropriated  lands 
within  her  acknowledged  boundaries,  which  right  was  reserved 
to  her  by  the  State  of  Virginia,  in  the  de^d  of  cession  of  the 
North  Western  Territory  to  the  United  States,  being  confirmed 
and  established  by  the  articles  of  confederation  and  the  Consti- 
tution of  the  United  States.' 

It  must  be  confessed,  that  this  doctrine  has  found  no  great 
favor  as  yet  m  Congress.  In  his  speech  on  the  New-Orleans 
Road  Bill,  delivered  in  the  House  of  Representatives  last  win- 
ter, Mr.  Archer,  of  Virginia,  havmg  spoken,  in  the  severest 
terms,  of  the  insolence  of  injustice  in  the  project  of  distributing 
the  proceeds  of  the  sales  of  the  public  lands  in  some  rateable 
proportion  among  the  States,  and  having  observed  that,  *  com- 
ing as  it  did  from  a  quarter,  in  which  no  cession  of  lands  had 
ever  been  made,  it  might  be  supposed  to  labor  under  some 
defect  of  modesty,  he  added, 

*  It  stood  entirely  acquitted,  however,  upon  this  score,  by  com- 
parison with  another,  having  reference  to  the  same  subject  of 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


468  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct. 

lands.  He  alluded  to  the  claim  advanced  recently  in  some  of 
the  new  States,  to  the  property  of  the  whole  of  the  public  lands, 
comprehended  within  their  respective  limits,  as  a  result  of  the 
character  of  sovereignty,  which  the  United  States  had  conceded 
to  them,  with  this  very  condition  annexed,  of  the  reserve  of  this 
very  property.  A  relation  of  war,  between  States,  exposed  to 
seizure  and  forfeiture  the  property  of  either  toithin  the  reach 
of  the  other,  A  relation  of  the  closest  amity,— of  incorporation 
into  a  common  political  community,— operated  the  same  effect, 
according  to  the  principle  of  the  doctrine  alluded  to!" 

Not  less  decisive  is  the  censure  of  this  doctrine,  pronounced 
by  a  select  committee  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  two 
years  ago.*  In  their  report  on  the  subject  committed  to  ihem 
they  make  use  of  the  following  (rather  unduly  severe)  lan- 
guage : 

'  Encouraged  by  the  success  of  these  applications,  several  of 
the  new  States  have  now  boldly  demanded  of  Congress  the  sur- 
render of  the  lands  within  their  limits,  although  the  sovereignty 
and  right  of  soil  were  obtained  by  the  treasure,  or  won  from  the 
Indians  by  the  blood,  of  the  citizens  of  the  old  States.  These 
new  States  have  affected  to  assert  a  right  to  what  they,  however, 
come  before  Congress  to  have  awarded  them  by  concession. 
Your  committee  will  enter  into  no  argument  on  the  subject. 
These  demands,  the  committee  are  disposed  to  believe,  have 
been  rather  the  acts  of  certain  individuals,  than  the  deliberate 
expression  of  the  people  at  large.  The  patriotism  of  the  citizens 
of  the  old  States,  who  voluntarily  conceded  these  lands  to  the 
Union,  might  here J^e  placed  by  the  committee  in  strong  contrast 
with  the  want  of  that  feeling  in  the  citizens  of  the  new  States, 
who  could  seriously  demand  from  the  Union  the  surrender  of  all 
this  invaluable  property  to  them  alone.  But  if  any  States  have, 
in  reality,  an  unhallowed  desire  to  get,  it  may  be  useful  to  them 
to  reflect  that  the  other  States  have  the  power  to  keep,  and  that 
it  is  the  duty  of  the  representatives  of  these  to  know  that  if  the 
national  property  is  parted  with,  it  is  parted  with  only  for  the 
general  advantage.* 


*  This  committee  was  raised  on  motion  of  Mr.  James  S.  Stevenson, 
of  Pittsburgh,  and  consisted,  besides  himself,  of  the  following  gentle- 
men :  Mr.  Earl,  of  New-York ;  Mr.  Rives,  of  Virginia ;  Mr.  Reed,  of 
Massachusetts ;  Mr.  Gale,  of  Maryland ;  Mr.  Muhlenberg,  of  Ohio ;  and 
Mr.  Gilmer,  of  Georgia.  We  have  heard  the  report  of  the  committee 
ascribed  to  its  chairman,  Mr.  Stevenson.  A  large  number  of  copies 
of  it  was  ordered  for  distribution  by  the  House  of  ilepresentatives. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  469 

We  have  perhaps  gone  f^r  enough  to  show,  that  this  is  a 
subject  of  great  delicacy  as  well  as  importance. 

It  is  not  our  intention,  at  present,  to  go  into  a  detailed  dis- 
cussion of  the  subject  of  the  public  lands  ;  we  may  perhaps  do 
that  on  another  occasion*  We  wish  only  to  make  such  further 
statements  respecting  it,  as  will  illustrate  the  origin  of  the  de- 
bate in  the  Senate,  at  the  last  session. 

The  public  domain  of  the  United  States  has  been  acquired 
chiefly  by  the  cessions  made  to  the  Union  by  the  old  States, 
at  the  close  of  the  revolutionary  war ;  by  the  Louisiana  pur- 
chase ;  and  by  the  Florida  treaty. 

The  peace  of  1783  found  the  United  States  of  America  in 
possession  of  large  tracts  of  unsettled  country,  to  which  several 
of  the  States  respectively  had  already  put  in  a  claim  of  exclu- 
sive ownership,  as  being  within  their  chartered  limits.  This 
right  was  strenuously  contested  by  some  of  the  States,  possess- 
ing no  lands  in  that  condition ;  particularly  New-Jersey  and 
Maryland,  and  more  especially  die  latter,  which,  on  this  ground, 
refused  to  accede  to  the  confederation  till  1781.  The  reader, 
who  would  understand  the  question  of  the  right  of  the  separate 
States  to  the  unoccupied  lands  within  their  limits,  would  do 
well  to  read  the  instructions  of  the  Maryland  delegates  to  the 
Continental  Congress,  laid  before  that  body,  21st  May,  1779.* 
This  controversy  was  happily  quieted  by  acts  of  cession  to  the 
United  States  of  the  lands  in  question,  executed  by  those 
States  which  had  preferred  claims  to  an  exclusive  tide.  In 
this  magnanimous  policy  New-York  led  the  way  by  an  act  of 
cession  of  1st  March,  1781.  Virgbia  followed  on  the  1st  of 
March,  1784;  Massachusetts  on  the  19th  April,  1785;  Con- 
necticut on  the  13th  September,  1786.  By  these  various 
acts  of  cession  the  United  States  acquired  the  title  to  the  ter- 
ritory north-west  of  the  Ohio  ;  being  the  territory  out  of  which 
have  since  been  formed  the  States  of  Ohio,  Indiana,  and  Dli- 
nois,  the  territory  of  Michigan,  and  an  extensive  region  west 
of  it,  which  will  probably  be  soon  organised  under  a  separate 
territorial  government.  The  claim  of  the  State  of  Virginia 
covered  nearly  the  whole  of  this  region ;  that  of  the  other 
States  enumerated  was  limited  to  a  part.  These  claims  had 
their  origin  in  the  royal  charters,  which  extended  the  bounda- 

*  Secret  Journal  of  Congress  for  Domestic  Affairs,  p.  433. 
VOL.  XXXI.— NO.  69.  60 


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470  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct. 

ries  of  the  several  colonies  from  sea  to  sea,  at  a  time  when  the 
geography  of  the  country  was  so  little  understood,  that  the 
same  region  was  granted  to  different  colonies,  by  their  contem- 
poraneous or  successive  charters.  Connecticut  alone,  in  mak- 
ing her  cession,  reserved  a  tract  of  land,  in  the  north-western 
part  of  Ohio,  still  popularly  known  as  the  *  Connecticut  or 
Western  Reserve,*  which  was  afterwards  ceded  to  the  United 
States,  on  the  30th  May,  1800 ;  and  by  the  United  States  to 
Ohio,*  The  sales  by  Connecticut  of  the  lands  in  the  district 
thus  reserved,  laid  the  foundation  of  her  school  fund. 

Great  reliance  was  had,  during  the  revolutionary  war,  and 
under  the  old  confederation,  upon  the  public  lands,  as  a  resource 
for  paying  the  debts  contracted  in  the  course  of  the  revolution, 
and  furnishing  a  permanent  supply  to  the  treasury.  It  is  obvious, 
however,  that  the  extent,  to  which  these  lands  could  ccmtribute 
to  any  financial  purpose,  must  depend  on  the  progress  of  emi- 
gration and  settlement ;  and  these  were  seriously  retarded  by 
Uie  inexeciitton  of  the  British  treaty ;  the  hostile  temper  of 
the  north-western  Indians ;  and  the  troubles  with  Spain,  rela- 
tive to  the  navigation  of  the  Mississippi.  The  indissoluble 
connexion  of  the  progress  of  settlement,  with  the  financial  pro- 
duct of  the  land,  would  seem  of  itself  to  demonstrate  the  absur- 
dity of  some  of  the  charges  made  on  the  Atlantic  States,  and 
particularly  those  of  New  England,  in  the  course  of  the  debate 
in  the  Senate  last  winter.  Two  of  these  charges  were — the 
one,  that  these  States  looked,  with  an  avaricious  eye,  to  the  pub- 
lic domain  in  the  West,  merely  as  a  source  of  pecuniary  benefit ; 
and  the  other,  that  they  endeavored  to  cripple  the  growth  of 
the  West :  charges  of  which  it  may  be  enough  to  say,  at  pres- 
ent, that  they  are  inconsistent  with  each  other.  We  may  only 
add  here,  diat  of  the  leading  statesmen,  who  have  recom- 
mended measures  of  that  class,  which  has  been  construed  into 
hostility  to  the  West,  General  Washington  and  Mr.  Jefferson 
are  the  most  distinguished.  Mr.  Jefferson  proposed  to  stock 
upper  Louisiana  with  Indians,  to  serve,  in  his  own  language, 
as  a  marechausseej  to  retard  the  emigration  of  the  citizens  of 
the  United  States,  till  the  xegion  east  of  the  Mississippi  was 

*  Report  of  the  committee  to  whom  was  referred  the  consideration 
of  the  expediency  of  accepting  firom  the  State  of  Connecticut,  a  cession 
of  jurisdiction  of  the  territory  west  of  Pennsylvania,  commonly  called 
tb^  Western  Reserve  of  Connecticut,  21st  March,  1800» 


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1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  471 

filled  up^  General  Washington  urged  the  opening  of  artificial 
communications  between  the  Atlantic  and  tlie  Western  States, 
partly,  on  the  ground,  that  it  would  prevent  the  commerce  of 
those  states  from  descending  the  St.  Lawrence  and  the  Missis- 
sippi,— ^both  of  which,  at  that  time,  had  their  outlet  in  the  do*- 
minions  of  foreign  powers. 

Prior  to  the  adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution,  very  limited 
sales  were  made  of  the  public  lands.  Three  tracts  were  sold 
by  special  contract.  The  first  was  '  The  Triangle,'  so  called, 
a  tract  of  land  on  Lake  Erie,  west  of  New- York,  north  of 
Pennsylvania,  and  east  of  the  present  State  of  Ohio ;  which 
was  comprehended  in  the  cessions  to  the  United  States, 
made  by  New-York  and  Massachusetts.  This  tract  was  ceded 
to  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  on  the  4th  of  September,  1788. 
It  consisted  of  202,187  acres,  and  the  sum  of  157,640  dol- 
lars was  received  Tor  the  sale  of  the  lands.  The  second 
sale,  prior  to  the  Constitution,  was  that  made  to  the  *  Ohio 
Company,'  of  a  tract  of  land  on  the  Ohio  and  Muskingum 
rivers,  originally  intended  to  include  about  two  millions  of 
acres,  but  afterwards  reduced,  by  the  consent  of  the  parties,  to 
964,285  acres.  The  price  of  these  lands  was  two  thirds  of  a 
dollar  per  acre,  receivable  in  evidences  of  the  public  debt. 
The  Ohio  Company  was  formed  by  Winthrop  Sargent  and 
Manasseh  Cutler,  and  commenced  the  setdement  of  the  State 
of  Ohio,  then  a  wilderness  uninhabited  by  civilised  man,  and 
now  containing  a  population  probably  amounting  to  a  million. 
The  third  of  these  sales  was  also  in  Ohio,  to  John  Cleves 
Symmes,  of  the  tract  of  land  between  the  Great  and  Little 
Miami  rivers.  This  sale,  originally  of  one  million  of  acres, 
was  reduced  by  an  alteration  of  the  contract,  and  subsequently 
by  a  failure  to  perform  its  conditions,  to  248,540  acres.  On 
the  lands  purchased  under  this  contract,  were  made  the  first 
attempts,  which  proved  wholly  successful,  (though  not  the  first 
in  point  of  time,)  to  settle  the  territory  north-west  of  the  Ohio. 

Bounty  lands  having  been  promised,  by  the  Continental 
Congress,  to  the  ofiicers  and  soldiers  of  the  continental  army, 
it  became  necessary,  as  early  as  possible,  to  redeem  that 
pledge.  The  controversies  between  the  States  and  the  United 
States,  relative  to  the  soil,  retarded  for  some  time  the  fulfil- 
ment of  this  purpose.  On  the  20th  May,  1785,  an  ordinance 
was  passed,  tor  ascertaining  the  mode  of  disposing  of  lands  in 
the  Western  territory,  and  this  was  the  first  act  of  general 


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472  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct. 

legislation  on  the  subject.  The  system  commeiiced  by  that 
act  underwent  several  changes,  but  m  some  important  features, 
it  resembled  the  system  now  existing.^  Under  this  system, 
very  limited  sales  were  made,  amounting  in  the  whole  to  not  more 
than  121,540  acres,  viz.  72,974  acres,  at  public  sale  in  New- 
York,  in  1787,  for  87,325  dollars,  in  evidences  of  the  public 
debt ;  43,446  acres,  at  public  sale  at  Pittsburgh,  in  1796,  for 
104,427  dollars ;  and  5,120  acres  at  Philadelphia,  the  same 
year,  for  two  dollars  an  acre.  In  the  year  1800,  on  the  10th 
of  May,  an  act  was  passed,  laying  the  foundations  of  the  pres- 
ent land  system.  It  has  received  many  modifications  at  sub- 
sequent periods ;  particularly  in  1820,  the  very  important  mod- 
ification of  substituting  cash  sales  for  the  credit  system,  and 
reducing  the  price  to  j(l,25  per  acre.  This  act  itself  was 
amendatory  of  one  which  had  been  passed  in  1796. 

Under  this  act,  the  substantial  features  of  the  land  system  of 
the  United  States  are  as  follows.  All  the  lands  are  surveyed 
by  the  Government^  before  they  are  offered  for  sale  ;  and  this 
is  the  great  improvement  in  the  land  system  of  the  United 
States,  over  that  of  Vii-ginia  in  apportioning  her  military  bounty 
lands,  which  were  picked  out  and  surveyed  by  individuals  re- 
ceiving warrants,  and  thus  subject  to  conflicting  claims,  pro- 
ductive of  interminable  legislation.  The  lands  of  the  United 
States,  as  surveyed,  are  divided  into  townships  of  six  miles 
square ;  and  these  are  subdivided  into  thirty-six  sections  a 
mile  square,  and  containing  640  acr^s.  The  dividing  lines 
run  accordbg  to  the  cardinal  points,  and  cut  each  other  at  right 
angles,  except  where  navigable  rivers  or  an  Indian  boundary 
creates  what  are  called  fractional  sections.  The  superinten- 
dence of  the  surveys  is  committed  to  five  principal  surveyors. 
One  thirty-sixth  part  of  the  lands  surveyed,  being  section 
number  16,  in  each  township,  is  reserved  fi*om  sale  for  the  sup- 
port of  schools  in  the  township;  and  other  reservations  have 
been  made  for  colleges  and  universities.  All  salt  springs  and 
lead  mines  are  also  reserved,  subject  to  be  leased  by  the 
President.  All  lands  not  reserved  are,  under  proclamations 
by  the  President  issued  firom  dme  to  time  to  that  effect,  o^red 
for  sale  at  public  sale,  for  cash,  in  tracts  not  less  than  a  half 
quarter  section,  or  eighty  acres,  and  at  the  minimum  price  of 
one  dollar  and  twenty-five  cents  per  acre.     Lands  not  sold  at 

*  Land  Laws,  new  edition,  p.  349. 


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1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  473 

public  sale  are  thenceforward  subject  to  entry,  at  private  sale,  at 
the  minimum  price.*  In  addition  to  the  fundamental  princi- 
ples of  the  land-law,  numerous  special  laws  have  been  passed, 
granting  the  right  of  pre-emption  (that  is,  a  prior  right  of  entry 
at  private  sale),  to  the  actual  settler.  But  this  and  all  other 
provisions  of  the  law  for  the  benefit  of  the  actual  settler  have, 
in  some  districts,  been  rendered  almost  nugatory  by  unprinci- 
pled combinations  of  land  speculators,  who  purchase  the  lands 
at  public  sale,  at  the  minimum  price,  and  then  compel  the  ac- 
tual settler  to  purchase  of  them,  at  an  enhanced  valuation.  On 
the  whole,  the  public  obtains,  on  an  average,  little,  if  any  thing, 
above  the  minimum  price,  although  not  a  little  of  the  land  sold 
is  of  the  best  quality  and  worth  several  dollars  per  acre.  Such 
lands  are  generally  pre-occupied  by  intruders  ;  and  if  not  pur- 
chased of  the  government,  at  the  minimum  rate,  by  the  land 
speculators  just  alluded  to,  the  settlers  themselves,  by  mutual 
agreement,  forbear  to  bid  on  each,  other. 

It  appears  that  up  to  the  present  time  about  one  hundred 
and  fifty  millions  of  acres  of  the  public  lands  have  been  sur- 
veyed. Of  these,  thirty  millions  have  not  been  proclaimed  for 
sale ;  eighty  millions  have  been  proclaimed,  but  remain  un- 
sold ;  twenty  millions  have  been  sold,  and  as  much  more 
granted  by  Congress  for  education,  internal  improvement  and 
other  purposes.  There  are  then  one  hundred  and  ten  mil- 
lions of  acres  surveyed  but  not  sold  ;  eighty  millions  of  ^ich 
are  in  the  market,  ready  for  entiy,  at  the  minimum  price,  at 
private  sale  ;  and  thirty  millions  subject  to  be  proclaimed  for 
sale,  whenever  there  is  a  demand.  The  annual  expense  of 
surveys,  as  they  have  hitherto  been  condiicted,  is  sixty  or 
eighty  thousand  dollars  per  annum,  according  to  the  statement 
of  Air.  Foot,  in  his  speech  on  the  resolution  moved  by  him. 

And  this  brbgs  us  more  particularly  to  that  resolution, 
which  was  offered  on  the  twenty-ninth  of  December  last,  and 
expressed  in  the  following  terms :  '  Resolved,  that  the  Com- 
mittee on  Public  Lands  be  instructed  to  inquire  into  the  expe- 
diency of  limiting,  for  a  certain  period,  the  sales  of  the  public 
lands  to  such  lands  only  as  have  heretofore  been  offered  foir 
sale  and  are  subject  to  entry  at  the  minimum  price,  and  also 

*  Most  of  the  facts  here  stated  may  be  found  in  Seybert's  Statistical 
Annals ;  and  in  the  new  edition  of  the  Land  Laws,  an  excellent  com- 
pilation, executed  under  an  order  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  by 
the  clerk  of  that  body,  M.  St.  Clair  Clarke,  Esq. 


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474  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct 

whether  the  office  of  Surveyor-General  may  not  be  abolished 
without  detriment  to  the  public  interest.' 

When  this  resolution  was  taken  up  on  the  following  day,  it 
was  opposed,  on  the  ground  that  it  was  a  part  of  a  systematic 
policy  for  crippling  the  growth  of  the  West,  which  had  been 
pursued  for  forty  years.  That  no  such  policy  ever  existed 
was,  we  think,  satisfactorily  shown,  in  the  course  of  the  debate 
that  ensued,  particularly  by  Mr.  Sprague  of  Maine,  in  answer 
to  Mr.  Benton. 

After  the  resolution  had  been  debated,  at  no  great  length, 
for  a  day  or  two,  in  the  form,  in  which  it  was  originally  offered, 
Mr.  Woodbury  moved  an  amendment  to  it,  which  went  to  re- 
verse its  character,  and  change  it  into  an  inquiry  into  the  expe- 
diency of  hastening  the  sales  and  extending  more  rapidly^  the 
surveys  of  the  public  lands.  This  proposition  was  variously 
opposed  and  sustained,  till,  on  motion  of  Mr.  Sprague  and  by 
consent  of  Mr.  Foot,  the  original  resolution  was  combined 
with  the  proposed  amendment,  and  the  inquiry  was  to  be  alter- 
native, as  to  the  expediency  either  of  extending  the  surveys 
and  hastening  the  sales,  or  suspending  the  surveys  and  abolish- 
ing some  of  the  land-offices,  as  recommended  by  the  late 
commissioner  of  the  general  land-office. 

Thus  far  the  resolution  had  encountered  a  fate  not  uncom- 
mon with  resolutions  of  inquiry.  It  was  probably  brought  for- 
ward without  any  plan  on  the  part  of  the  mover  to  pursue  it 
vigorously  to  any  act  of  legislation.  It  was  debated,  at  no 
great  length,  chiefly  on  its  merits,  with  the  ordinary  admixture 
of  topics  of  present  party  interest.  It  received  such  modifi- 
cations as  prevented  the  Senate  from  being  pledged  by  its 
adoption  to  any  policy  with  regard  to  the  public  lands.  It 
was  then  in  a  state  to  go  to  the  committee  and  receive  such 
destiny,  as  they  might  please  to  give  it,  most  probably  that  of 
a  statistical  report,  condensing  into  moderate  compass  the  most 
important  information  on  the  subject  of  the  surveys  and  sales 
of  the  public  lands,  and  recommending  such  resolutions  as  the 
majority  of  the  committee  should  agree  in,  and  which,  when 
reported,  would  have  gone  to  rest  on  the  table  of  the  Senate. 
We  do  not  make  these  remarks  from  any  purpose  of  dispar- 
aging the  resolution.  It  is  the  course,  which  the  majority,  we 
apprehend,  of  the  resolutions  of  inquiry  moved  in  either  house 
are  intended,  or  at  least  expected  to  take,  when  moved. 

In  this  state  of  things,  Mr.  Hayne  of  South  Carolina  ad^ 


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1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  475 

dressed  the  Senate  on  the  subject.  We  find  the  following 
abstract  of  his  remarks,  in  a  pamphlet  edition  of  his  Speech 
and  the  Second  of  Mr.  Webster,  published  at  Boston. 

'  Mr.  Hayne,  of  South  Carolina,  now  rose  and  said,  that  to 
oppose  inquiry  was  not  necessarily  an  unparliamentary  course. 
Where  information  was  really  wanted  or  a  policy  questionable, 
it  was  proper  to  send  the  subject  to  a  committee ;  but  where 
thete  was  full  knowledge  and  fixed  opinions,  inquiry  was  neither 
necessary  or  proper.  He  concurred  with  the  gentleman  from 
Missouri,  that  it  could  never  be  right  to  inquire  into  the  expe-' 
diency  of  doing  a  great  and  acknowledged  wrong.  There  were  two 
great  systems  and  two  great  parties  in  relation  to  the  settlement  of 
the  public  lands.  One  system  was  that  which  we  had  pursued,  of 
selling  the  land  at  the  highest  price.  Another  was  that  of  Great 
Britain,  France,  and  Spain,  of  granting  their  lands  for  a  penny  or  a 
peppercorn.  He  described  the  opposite  results  of  these  systems. 
That  of  the  United  States  produced  poverty  and  universal  distress, 
and  took  away  from  the  setder  all  the  profits  of  labor.  It  drained 
the  new  States  of  all  their  money  in  the  same  manner  as  the 
South,  by  the  operation  of  the  tariff,  was  drained  to  enrich  more 
favored  sections  of  the  Union.  The  South  could  sympathise 
with  the  West.  If  the  opposite  system  had  been  pursued,  who 
could  tell  how  much  good,  how  much  improvement,  would  have 
taken  place,  which  has  not,  in  the  new  States?  The  important 
question  was  as  to  the  future.  He  did  not  wish  for  a  permanent 
fund  in  the  treasury,  believing  it  would  be  used  for  corruption. 
If  he  could,  with  the  wave  of  a  wand,  convert  the  capitol  into 
gold,  he  would  not  do  it.  But  there  was  another  purpose  to 
which  it  was  supposed  the  public  land  could  be  applied  ;  viz.  so 
as  to  create  and  preserve  in  certain  quarters,  a  population  suita- 
ble and  sufficient  for  manufacturing  establishments.  It  was  ne- 
cessary to  create  a  manufactory  of  paupers,  and  these  would 
Bupply  the  manufactories  of  rich  proprietors,  and  enable  them  to 
amass  great  wealth.  This  doctrine  was  broached  by  the  late 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury. 

*  The  lands  were  pledged  for  the  public  debt.     This  would  be 

{)aid  in  three  or  four  years.  He  was  in  favor  of  a  system,  which 
coked  to  the  total  relinquishment,  at  that  time,  of  the  lands  to 
the  States  in  which  they  lie,  at  prices,  he  would  not  say  nominal, 
but  certainly  so  moderate,  as  not  to  keep  the  States  long  in  debt 
to  the  United  States.  In  the  course  of  his  remarks,  Mr.  Hayne 
appealed  to  the  gentlemen  from  the  Atlantic  States,  if  it  was  not 
true  that  the  whole  of  their  country  was  parcelled  out  and  settled 
under  the  liberal  system  of  Britain,  instead  of  the  hard  and 
draining  one,  which  we  had  hitherto  pursued  in  regard  to  the 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


476  The  DebaU  in  the  [Oet 

West  Mr.  Hayne  urged  the  necessity  of  distribttting  the  landi 
to  the  States,  from  a  regard  to  State  sovereignty  and  the  te^ 
dency  of  such  a  fund  to  produce  consolidation. 

With  this  speech  commenced  the  great  debate  ;  all  before 
was  mere  skirmish.  Mr.  Webster,  on  the  following  day,  re- 
plied to  Mr.  Hayne,  in  a  speech,  which  has  been  reported 
at  length.  The  important  topics  were  the  general  defence 
of  the  policy,  which  had  been  pursued  by  the  Government  to- 
wards the  new  States,  which  Mr.  Hayne  had  characterised  as 
severe  ;  the  dangerous  tendency  to  the  Union  of  the  doctrines 
current  at  the  South,  doctrines  to  which  Mr.  Webster  thought 
that  sanction  was  given  by  Mr.  Hayne  in  some  of  his  re- 
marks ;  and  the  injustice  of  the  charge  against  the  Eastern 
States,  that  they  encouraged  the  tariff  policy  with  the  hostile 
design  of  checking  emigraticHi  to  die  West.  In  this  part  of 
his  speech  Mr.  Webster  maintained,  that  New  England  had, 
from  the  first,  taken  an  active  part  in  measures  favorable  to  the 
settlement  and  growth  of  the  West.  Her  statesmen  introduced 
the  plan  of  public  surveys,  and  die  Ordinance  of  1787,  the 
basis  of  the  civil  institutions  and  of  the  prosperity  of  the  North 
Western  States,  was  drafted  by  Mr.  Dane,  a  distinguisjied  citi- 
zen of  Massachusetts.  On  this  subject  he  made  the  following 
remarks,  which  it  is  necessary  to  quote  for  the  understanding 
of  what  follows. 

*  Then  comes,  Sir,  the  renowned  Ordinance  of  1787,  which 
lies  at  the  foundation  of  the  Constitutions  of  these  new  North 
Western  States.  We  are  accustomed,  Sir,  to  praise  the  law- 
givers of  antiquity ;  we  help  to  perpetuate  the  fame  of  Solon 
and  Lycurgus ;  but  I  doubt  whether  one  single  law  of  any 
lawgiver,  ancient  or  modern,  has  produced  effects  of  more 
distinct,  marked,  and  lasting  character,  than  the  Ordinance 
of  1787.  That  instrument  was  drawn  by  Nathan  Dane, 
then,  and  now,  a  citizen  of  Massachusetts.  It  was  adopted, 
as  I  think  I  have  understood,  without  the  slightest  alteration  ; 
and  certainly  it  has  happened  to  few  men,  to  be  the  authors  of 
a  political  measure  of  more  large  and  enduring  consequence. 
It  fixed  for  ever  the  character  of  the  population  in  the  vast 
regions  northwest  of  the  Ohio,  by  excluding  fi-om  them  invol- 
untary servitude.  It  impressed  on  the  soil  itself,  while  it 
was  yet  a  wilderness,  an  incapacity  to  bear  up  any  other  than 
free  men.  It  laid  the  interdict  against  personal  servitude  in 
original    compact,   not    only  deeper    than   all  local   law,   but 


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1B30.]  Senate  oj  the  United  States.  477 

deeper,  also,  than  all  local  constitutions.  Under  the  circum- 
stances then  existing,  I  look  upon  this  original  and  season- 
able proTision  as  a  vast  good  attained.  >7e  see  its  conse- 
quences at  this  moment,  and  we  shall  never  cease  to  see> 
them,  whiie  the  Ohio  snail  flOv^  It  v/?.5  a  great  and  sal- 
utary measure  of  prevention.  Sir,  I  should  fear  the  rebuke  of 
no  intelligent  gentlemLa  of  Kentucky,  v^rere  I  to  ask  whether, 
if  such  CO.  ordinance  could  havd  oeen  applied  to  his  own 
State,  while  it  w?.s  yet  a  wilderness,  and  before  Booie  had 
passed  the  ^ap  of  the  Allegany,  he  does  not  suppose  it  would 
have  contributed  tp  the  ultimate  greatness  of  that  Common- 
wealth 1  It  is,  at  any  rate,  not  to  be  doubted,  that,  where  it 
did  apply,  it  has  produced  an  effect  not  easily  to  be  described 
or  measured,  in  the  growth  of  the  States,  and  the  extent  and 
increase  of  their  population.  Now,  Sir,  this  great  measure, 
again,  was  carried  by  the  North,  and  by  the  North  alone. 
There  were,  indeed,  individuals  elsewhere  favorable  to  it ; 
but  it  was  supported,  as  a  measure,  entirely  by  the  votes  of  the 
Northern  States.  If  New  England  had  been  governed  by  the 
narrow  and  selfish  views  now  ascribed  to  her,  this  very  measure 
was,  of  all  others,  the  best  calculated  to  thwart  her  purposes. 
It  was,  of  all  things,  the  very  means  of  rendering  certain  a  vast 
emigration  firom  her  own  population  to  the  West.  She  looked 
to  that  consequence  only  to  disregard  it.  She  deemed  the  regu- 
lation a  most  useM  one  to  the  States  that  would  spring  up  on 
the  territory,  and  advantageous  to  the  country  at  large.  She 
adhered  to  the  principle  of  it  perseveringly,  year  after  year,  until 
it  was  finally  accomplished. 

On  the  subject  of  a  hostility  to  the  West  evinced  in  the  tariff 
policy,  Mr.  "Webster  made  the  following  remarks. 

*  The  gentleman  alluded  to  a  Report  of  the  late  Secretary  of 
the  Treasury,  which,  according  to  his  reading  or  construction 
of  it,  recommended  what  he  calls  the  tariff  policy,  or  a  branch  of 
that  policy ;  that  is,  the  restraining  of  emigration  to  the  West, 
for  the  purpose  of  keeping  hands  at  home,  to  carry  on  the  manu- 
factures. I  think.  Sir,  that  the  gentleman  misapprehended  the 
meaning  of  the  Secretary,  in  the  interpretation  given  to  his  re- 
marks. I  understand  him  only  as  saying,  that  since  the  low 
price  of  lands  at  the  West  acts  as  a  constant  and  standing 
bounty  to  agriculture,  it  is,  on  that  account,  the  more  reasonable 
to  provide  encouragement  for  manufactures.  But,  Sir,  even  if 
the  Secretary's  observation  were  to  be  understood  as  the  gentle- 
man understands  it,  it  would  not  be  a  sentin^t  borrowed  from 
any  New  England  source.  Whether  it  be  right  or  wrong,  it 
does  not  originate  in  that  quarter. 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  61 


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478  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct. 

'  In  the  course  of  these  remarks,  Mr.  President,!  have  spoicea 
of  the  supposed  desire,  on  the  part  of  the  Atlantic  States,  ti> 
check,  or  at  least  not  to  hasten,  Western  emigration,  as  a  narrom 
policy.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have  <]palified  the  expression  ;  be- 
cause, Sir,  I  am  now  about  to  quote  the  opinions  of  one,  to 
whom  I  would  impute  nothing  narrow,  I  am  now  about  to  re- 
fer you  to  the  language  of  a  gentleman  of  much  and  deserved 
distinction,  now  a  member  of  the  other  House,  and  occupying  a 
prominent  situation  there.  The  gentleman,  Sir,  is  from  South 
Carolina.  In  1825,  a  debate  arose  in  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, on  the  subject  of  the  Western  road.  It  happened  to  me 
to  take  part  in  that  debate ;  I  was  answered  by  the  honorable 
gentleman  to  whom  I  have  alluded,  and  I  rephed.  May  I  be 
pardoned.  Sir,  if  I  read  a  part  of  this  debate  ? 

'  "  The  gentleman  from  Massachusetts  has  urged,"  said  Mr. 
Mc  Duffie,  *^'  as  one  leading  reason  why  the  government  should 
make  roads  to  the  West,  that  these  roads  have  a  tendency  to 
settle  the  public  lands ;  that  they  increase  the  inducements  to 
settlement,  and  that  this  is  a  national  object.  Sir,  I  differ  en- 
tirely from  his  views  on  the  subject.  I  think  that  the  public 
lands  are  settling  quite  fast  enough ;  that  our  people  need 
no  stimulus  to  urge  them  thither  ;  but  want  rather  a  check,  at 
least,  on  that  artificial  tendency  to  the  Western  settlement,  which 
we  have  created  by  our  own  laws. 

*  *'  The  gentleman  says,  that  the  great  object  of  Government, 
with  respect  to  those  lands,  is  not  to  make  them  a  source  of 
revenue,  but  to '  get  them  settled.  What  would  have  been 
thought  of  this  argument  in  the  old  thirteen  States  ?  It  amounts 
to  this,  that  those  States  are  to  offer  a  bonus  for  their  own  impov- 
erishment, to  create  a  vortex  to  swallow  up  our  floating  popu- 
lation. Look,  Sir,  at  the  present  aspect  of  the  Southern  States. 
In  no  part  of  Europe  will  you  see  the  same  indications  of  de- 
cay. Deserted  villages — houses  falling  to  ruin — impoverished 
lands  thrown  out  of  cultivation  !  Sir,  I  believe  that  if  the 
public  lands  had  never  been  sold,  the  aggregate  amount  of  the 
national  wealth  would  have  been  greater  at  this  moment.  Our 
population,  if  concentrated  in  the  old  States,  and  not  ground 
down  by  tarifib,  would  have  been  more  prosperous  and  more 
wealthy.  But  every  inducement  has  been  held  out  to  them  to 
settle  in  the  West,  until  our  population  has  become  sparse,^  and 
then  the  effects  of  this  sparseness  are  now  to  be  counteracted 
by  another  artificial  system.  Sir,  I  say  if  there  is  any  object 
worthy  the  attention  of  this  Government,  it  is  a  plan  which  shall 
limit  the  sale  of  the  public  lands.  If  those  lands  were  sold  accord- 
ing to  their  real  value,  be  it  so.  But  while  the  Government  con- 
tinues, as  it  now  does,  to  give  them  away,  they  will  draw  the 


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1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  479 

population  of  the  older  States,  and  still  farther  increase  the  ef- 
fect which  ts  already  distressingly  felt,  and  which  must  go  to 
diminish  the  value  of  all  those  States  possess.  And  this,  Sir,  is 
held  out  to  us  as  a  motive  for  granting  the  present  appropriation. 
I  would  not,  indeed,  prevent  the  formation  of  roads  on  these 
considerations,  but  I  certainly  would  not  encourage  it.  Sir, 
there  is  an  additional  item  in  the  account  of  the  benefits,  which 
this  Government  has  conferred  on  the  Western  States.  It  is  the 
sale  of  the  public  lands  at  the  minimum  price.  At  this  moment 
we  are  selling  to  the  people  of  the  West  lands  at  one  dollar  and 
twenty-five  cents,  which  are  worth  fifteen,  and  which  would  sell 
at  that  price  if  the  markets  were  not  glutted."  ' 

Mr.  Webster  then  quoted  an  extract  from  his  own  speech 
in  1825,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Mc  Duffie,  and  closed  with  moving 
the  indefinite  postponement  of  Mr.  Foot's  resolution. 

Mr.  Benton  of  Missouri  followed,  in  reply,  on  the  follow- 
ing day. 

'  He  said,  that  if  it  had  depended  on  New  England, — ^he 
would  proclaim  it  to  the  world, — not  a  settlement  would  have 
been  made  in  the  West.  He  repeated  his  arguments  in  relation 
to  the  Spanish  treaty,  and  the  non-settlement  clause ;  he  said 
the  motive  of  the  North,  for  acceding  to  the  surrender  of  the 
navigation  of  the  Mississippi,  was  to  have  Spain  take  train  oil 
and  codfish  from  us,  id  est^  from  New  England,  God  save  us, 
said  Mr.  B.,  from  such  allies.  He  joined  issue  with  the  gentle- 
man from  Massachusetts,  as  to  the  benefits  conferred  by  the 
East  upon  the  West. 

*  Thursday,  January  21.  Mr.  Chambers,  of  Maryland,  hoped 
that  the  Senate  would  postpone  the  discussion  until  Monday,  as 
Mr.  Webster,  who  had  taken  a  part  in  it,  and  wished  to  be  pres- 

•  ent  at  it,  had  unavoidable  engagements  out  of  the  Senate,  and 
could  not  conveniently  attend. 

<  Mr.  Hayne,  of  South  Carolina,  said  that  some  things  had 
fallen  from  the  gentleman  from  Massachusetts,  which  had 
created  sensations  here^  (touching  his  breast),  from  which  he 
would  at  once  desire  to  relieve  himself  The  gentleman  had  dis- 
charged his  weapon,  and  he  (Mr.  H.)  wished  for  an  opportunity 
to  return  the  fire. 

*  Mr.  Webster.  I  am  ready  to  receive  it ;  let  the  discussion 
proceed. 

*  Mr.  Benton,  of  Missouri,  then  continued  his  remarks,  deny- 
ing that  the  credit  of  framing  the  ordinance  of  1787  was  due  to 
Nathan  Dane ;  it  belonged  to  Mr.  Jefferson  and  the  South.  Mr. 
Benton  said,  that  in  New  England  there  was  a  dividing  line  be- 
tween the  firiends  of  the  West,  and  those  who  thought  it  ^'  unbe- 


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480  7%e  Dehaie  in  the  [Oct. 

coming  a  moral  and  religious  people  to  rejoice  at  victory .'  On 
one  side  was  democracy ;  on  the  other^  all  that  was  opposed  to 
democracy ;  the  alliance  of  the  latter  party,  offered  yesterday 
to  the  West,  he  begged  leave,  in  behalf  of  the  Y/est,  to  decline. 
On  all  the  questions  in  which  the  West  h^^i  an  interest,  the 
South  had  been  its  friend ;  and  the  North,  if  not  all,  at  least  its 
leaders,  enemies  1  Massachusetts,  who  now  came  forward  to 
offer  an  alliance,  was  found,  on  every  question,  opposed  to  gen- 
erous, magnanimous  Virginia. 

'  Mr.  Bell,  of  New  Hampshire,  moved  to  postpone  further  dis- 
cussion until  Monday,  which  was  negatived — Ayes  13,  Noes  18.' 

Mr.  Hayne  then  proceeded  with  his  speech  m  reply  to  Mr. 
Webster,  which  occupied  the  Senate  for  two  days. 

The  exordium  contained  some  caustic  remarks  on  the 
manner  in  which  Mr.  Webster  had  engaged  in  the  debate. 
In  reply  to  Mr.  Webster's  allusion  to  Mr.  Dane,  as  the  au- 
thor of  the  ordinance  of  1787,  Mr.  Hayne  stated  that  Mr. 
Benton  had  disproved  that  fact ;  and  added,  that  Mr.  Dane 
was  known  only  to  the  South  as  a  member  of  the  Hartford 
Convention.  Mr.  Hayne  insisted  that  the  doctrines  now  ad- 
vanced by  Mr.  Webster,  on  the  public  lands,  differed  from 
those  contained  in  his  speech  of  1826,  from  which  Mr.  Web- 
ster had  read  an  extract  the  day  before.  He  alleged  that  the 
support,  which  New  Endand  had  given  to  the  measurss  of  in- 
ternal improvement,  as  favorable  to  the  West,  had  commenced 
in  1825,  and  was  dictated  by  political  calculations.  In  reply 
to  Mr.  Webster's  commendation  of  the  ordinance  of  1787  for 
its  prohibition  of  slavery,  Mr.  Hayne  commented  at  length  on 
that  subject,  condemning  what  he  regarded  as  the  spirit  and 
tendency  of  Mr.  Webster's  commendation,  and  denying  that 
slavery  was  a  source  of  political  weakness  in  a  community. 
In  reply  to  Mr.  Webster's  remarks  on  the  prevalence  of  doc- 
trines at  the  South  unfriendly  to  the  Union,  Mr.  Hayne  charged 
upon  Mr.  Webster  a  desire  to  promote  the  consolidation  of  the 
Grovernment ;  and  declared  that  the  two  great  parties  of  anti-fed- 
eral and  federal  were  those  which,  under  di^rent  names,  had 
always  divided  and  still  divided  the  people  of  this  country.  Jifr. 
Hayne  on  this  head  observed,  that  the  anti-federalists,  who 
came  into  power  in  1801,  'continued  tiU  the  dose  of  Mr. 
MadiaorCs  administration  in  1817,  to  exercise  the  exclusive 
direction  of  public  affairs.'  Mr.  Hayne  then  commented  with 
severity  on  Mr.  Webster's  course  in  respect  to  the  tarifil    In 


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1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  4S1 

reference  to  the  prevalence,  in  some  quarters,  of  doctrines  w 
friendly  to  the  tFnion,  which  had  been  referred  to  by  Mr. 
Webster,  Mr.  Hayne  stated  that  he  considered  such  allusions 
as  an  unprovoked  attack  on  the  South,  and  particularly  South 
Carolkia,  one  ol  whose  citizens,  Dr.  Cooper,  was  distinctly  al- 
luded to ;  and  that  he  should  consequently  carry  the  war  into 
the  enemy's  territory.  This  gave  Mr.  Hayne  occasion,  after 
asserting  die  patriotic  conduct  of  South  Carolina  in  the  war  of 
the  revolution  and  of  1812,  to  endeavor  to  place  in  very  disad- 
vantageous contrast  that  of  Massachusetts  in  the  last  war.  In 
this  part  of  his  speech,  Mr.  Hayne  made  numerous  quotations 
of  documents,  touching  the  proceedings  of  Massachusetts  and 
the  other  Eastern  States,  against  the  war  of  1812,  ending  with 
the  Hartford  Convention. 

From  this  tram  of  reflection,  Mr.  Hayne  passed  to  the  de*- 
fence  of  the  doctrine,  that  the  several  States  of  the  Union, 
each  in  its  sovereign  capacity,  have  a  constitutional  right  to 
protect  themselves  against  unconstitutional  acts  of  the  Gene- 
ral Government.  Mr.  Hayne,  however,  observed  that  as  Mr. 
Webster  had  not  examined  this  doctrine  in  detail,  he  should 
noty  at  present,  do  more  than  oppose  to  his  authority  that  of  the 
Virginia  and  Kentucky  Resolutions  of  1798  and  1799,  and  the 
Virginia  Report  of  1799  :  papers  known  or  supposed  lo  have 
proceeded  from  Mr.  Jefferson  and  Mr.  Madison.  From  these 
papers,  Mr.  Ha}nDe  made  some  extracts.  He  finally  stated, 
that  South  Carolina  had  gone  not  a  step  farther  than  the  states- 
men of  New  England,  and  Mr.  Webster  himself  had  gone,  in 
maintaining  the  right  of  opposing  the  embargo  and  other  acts 
deemed  by  them  unconstitutional.  Mr.  Hayne  ended  his 
speech  in  the  following  manner : 

'  Thus,  it  will  be  seen,  Mr.  President,  that  the  South  Carolina 
doctrine  is  the  republican  doctrine  of  '98 ;  that  it  was  promul- 
gated by  the  fathers  of  the  faith — that  it  was  maintained  by  Vir- 
ginfia  and  Kentucky  in  the  worst  of  times — ^thal  it  constituted  the 
very  pivot  on  which  the  political  revolution  of  that  day  turned — 
that  it  embraces  the  very  principles,  the  triumph  of  which,  at 
that  time,  saved  the  Constitution  at  its  last  gasp,  and  which  New 
England  statesmen  were  not  unwilling  to  adopt,  when  they  be- 
lieved themselves  to  be  the  victims  of  unconstitutional  legisla- 
tion. Sir,  as  to  the  doctrine  that  the  Federal  Government  is  the 
exclusive  judge  of  the  extent  as  well  as  the  limitations  of  its 
powers,  it  seems  to  me  to  be  utterly  subversive  of  the  sovereignty 


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483  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct 

and  independence  of  the  States.  It  makes  but  little  difference, 
in  my  estimation,  whether  Congress  or  the  Supreme  Court  are 
invested  with  this  power.  If  the  Federal  Government,  in  all  or 
any  of  its  departments,  is  to  prescribe  the  limits  of  its  own  au- 
thority, and  the  States  are  bound  to  submit  to  the  decision,  and 
are  not  to  be  allowed  to  examine  and  decide  for  themselves, 
when  the  barriers  of  the  Constitution  shall  be  overleaped,  this  is 
practically  a  "  government  without  limitation  of  powers."  The 
States  are  at  once  reduced  to  mere  petty  corporations,  and  the 
people  are  entirely  at  your  mercy.  I  have  but  one  word  more  to 
add.  In  all  the  efforts  that  have  been  made  by  South  Carolina, 
to  resist  the  unconstitutional  laws  which  Congress  has  extended 
over  them,  she  has  kept  steadily  in  view  the  preservation  of  the 
Union,  by  the  only  means  by  which  she  believes  it  can  be  long 
preserved — a  firm,  manly,  and  steady  resistance  against  usurpa- 
tion. The  measures  of  the  Federal  Government  have,  it  is  true, 
prostrated  her  interests,  and  will  soon  involve  the  whole  South 
in  irretrievable  ruin.  But  even  this  evil,  great  as  it  is,  is  not  the 
chief  ground  of  our  complaints.  It  is  the  principle  involved  in 
the  contest,  a  principle,  which,  substituting  the  discretion  of 
Congress  for  the  limitations  of  the  Constitution,  brings  the  States 
and  the  people  to  the  feet  of  the  Federal  Government,  and  leaves 
them  nothing  they  can  call  their  own.  Sir,  if  the  measures 
of  the  Federal  Government  were  less  oppressive,  we  should  still 
strive  against  this  usurpation.  The  South  is  acting  on  a  princi- 
ple she  has  always  held  sacred — resistance  to  unauthorised  taxa- 
tion. These,  Sir,  are  the  principles  which  induced  the  immor- 
tal Hampden  to  resist  the  payment  of  a  tax  of  twenty  shillings. 
Would  twenty  shillings  have  ruined  his  fortune  ?  No  1  but  the 
payment  of  half  twenty  shillings,  on  the  principle  on  which  it 
was  demanded,  would  have  made  him  a  slave.  Sir,  if  in  acting 
on  these  high  motives — if  animated  by  that  ardent  love  of  liberty 
which  has  always  been  the  most  prominent  trait  in  the  Southern 
character — we  should  be  hurried  beyond  the  bounds  of  a  cold 
and  calculating  prudence,  who  is  there,  with  one  noble  and  gen- 
erous sentiment  in  his  bosom,  that  would  not  be  disposed,  in  the 
language  of  Burke,  to  exclaim,  "  You  must  pardon  something  to 
the  spirit  of  liberty  !"  ' 

We  should  the  more  regret  the  imperfection  of  the  forego- 
ing sketch  of  Mr.  Hayne's  speech,  did  we  not  know,  tliat  the 
report  of  it,  revised  by  himself,  has  gone  into  far  wider  circu- 
lation than  that  of  our  journal.  Our  object  has  been  merely  to 
present  the  connected  succession  of  its  topics.  It  may  be 
proper  to  remark,  that  this  speech,  like  that  of  Mr,  Webster, 


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1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  4SS 

which  followed  it,  was  made  in  the  presence  of  as  crowded 
and  intelligent  an  assembly,  as  was  ever  convened  in  the  United 
States.  The  public  attention  was  strongly  excited,  and  the 
Senate-chamber  thronged  to  overflowing.  Mr.  Hayne's  re- 
marks continued  till  the  arrival  of  the  usual  hour  of  ad- 
journment. 

Mr.  Webster  commenced  his  reply  on  the  following  day. 
After  repelling  with  severity  the  personal  remarks  contained 
in  Mr.  Hayne's  exordium,  Mr.  Webster  defended  himself 
against  the  charge  of  an  invidious  allusion  to  slavery,  and  vin- 
dicated the  course  of  the  Eastern  States  generally  in  reference 
to  that  subject.  In  reply  to  the  observation,  that  Mr.  Dane 
was  known  to  the  South,  only  as  a  member  of  the  Hartford 
Convention,  he  said,  that  the  journal  of  that  Convention,  which 
Ac  had  never  read,  appeared  to  be  now  more  studied  in  South 
Caroh'na  than  in  New  England.  He  denied  that  his  views  on 
the  public  lands,  as  expressed  in  his  speech  of  1825,  differed 
from  those  which  he  had  advanced  at  the  commencement  of 
the  debate.  He  denied  that  the  support  of  internal  improve- 
raent,  as  favorable  to  the  West,  began  in  New  England  m 
1825;  and  alleged,  that  when  at  the  peace  of  1815,  he  re- 
turned to  Congress,  he  found  the  system  of  internal  improve- 
ment becoming  the  favorite  policy  of  the  country  at  large,  under 
the  auspices  of  distinguished  statesmen  from  South  Carolina^ 
whose  lead  he  followed,  though  they  appeared  since  to  have 
abandoned  the  doctrine.  He  recurred  to  his  views  on  the 
subject  of  consolidation,  repeating  that  he  had  maintained  '  the 
consolidation  of  the  Union,'  which  had  been  recommended  by 
General  Washington  and  the  convention  which  adopted  the 
Constitution,  not  a  consolidation  of  the  Government.  Mr.  Web- 
ster next  defended  the  course  which  he  had  pursued  in  refer- 
ence to  the  tariff  question  ;  and  then  replied  in  general  terms 
to  that  part  of  Mr.  Hayne's  speech,  which  was  devoted  to  the 
conduct  of  the  Eastern  States  during  the  war  of  1812.  Hav- 
ing disposed  of  this  and  the  topics  incident  to  it,  the  remainder 
of  Mr.  Webster's  speech  was  taken  up  with  what  has  been 
called  tlie  constitutional  argument.  He  laid  down  the  doc- 
trines, which  he  proposed  to  contest,  in  the  following  terms  : 

'  I  understand  the  honorable  gentleman  from  South  Carolina 
to  maintain,  that  it  is  a  right  of  the  State  Legislatures  to  inter- 
fere, whenever,  in  their  judgment,  this  Government  transcends 
its  constitutional  limits,  and  to  arrest  the  operation  of  its  laws. 


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484  The  Debate  in  the  [Oct. 

*  I  understand  him  to  maintain  this  right,  as  a  right  existing 
ttnder  the  Constitution ;  not  as  a  right  to  orerthrow  it,  on  the 
ground  of  extreme  necessity,  such  as  would  justify  violent  revo- 
lution. 

'  I  understand  him  to  maintain  an  authority  on  the  part  of  the 
States  thus  to  interfere,  for  the  purpose  of  correcting  the  ex- 
ercise of  power  by  the  General  Government,  cf  checking  it,  and 
of  compelling  it  to  conform  to  their  opinion  of  the  extent  of  its 
power. 

'  I  understand  him  to  maintain,  that  the  ultimate  power  of 
judging  of  the  constitutional  extent  of  its  own  authority,  is  not 
lodged  exclusively  in  the  General  Government,  or  any  branch  of 
it :  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  the  States  may  lawfully  decide  fcff 
themselves,  and  each  State  for  itself,  whether,  in  a  given  case, 
the  act  of  the  General  Government  tran&cenda  its  power. 

'  I  understand  him  to  insist,  t.tat  if  the  exigency  of  the  case, 
in  the  opinion  of  any  State  Government,  require  it,  such  State 
Government  may,  hj  its  own  sovereign  authority,  annul  an  act 
of  the  General  Government,  which  it  deems  plainly  and  palpably 
unconstitutional. 

'  This  is  the  sum  of  what  I  understand  from  him  to  be  the 
South  Carolina  doctrine.  I  propose  to  consider  it,  and  to  com- 
pare it  with  the  Constitution.' 

Mr.  Hayae  having  explained,  that  the  doctrine  which  he  as- 
serted was  no  other  than  that  of  the  Virginia  Resolutions  of 
1798,  which  he  cited,  Mr.  Webster  replied, 

*  I  am  quite  aware,  Mr.  President,  of  the  existence  of  the  reso- 
lution which  the  gentleman  read,  and  has  now  repeated,  and  that 
he  relies  on  it  as  his  authority.  I  know  the  source,  too,  from 
which  it  is  understood  to  have  proceeded.  I  need  not  say,  that 
I  have  much  respect  for  the  constitutional  opinions  of  Mr.  Madi- 
son ;  they  would  weigh  greatly  with  me,  always.  But,  before 
the  authority  of  his  opinion  be  vouched  for  the  gentlemati's 
proposition,  it  will  be  proper  to  consider  what  is  the  fair  interpre- 
tation of  that  resolution,  to  which  Mr.  Madison  is  understood  to 
have  given  his  sanction.  As  the  gentleman  construes  it,  it  is  an 
authority  for  him.  Possibly,  he  may  not  have  adopted  the  right 
construction.  That  tesolution  declares,  that  in  the  ease  of  the 
dangerous  exercise  of  powers  not  granted  hy  the  General  Gotemr 
ment,  the  States  may  interpose  to  arrest  the  progress  of  the  evil 
But  how  interpose,  and  what  does  this  declaration  purport? 
Does  it  mean  no  more,  than  that  there  may  be  extreme  cases,  in 
which  the  people,  in  any  mode  of  assembling,  may  resist  usurpa- 
tion, and  relieve  themselves  from  a  tyrannical  government?    No 


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1830.]  Senate  of  the  United  States.  485 

one  will  deny  this.  Such  resistance  is  not  onlj  acknowledged 
to  be  just  in  America,  but  in  England  also.  Blackstone  admits 
as  much  in  the  theory  and  practice  too,  of  the  English  constitu- 
tion. We,  Sir,  who  oppose  the  Carolina  doctrine,  do  not  deny, 
that  the  people  may,  if  they  choose,  throw  off  any  government, 
when  it  becomes  oppressive  and  intolerable,  and  erect  a  better 
in  its  stead.  We  all  know,  that  civil  institutions  are  established 
for  the  public  benefit,  and  that  when  they  cease  to  answer  the 
ends  of  their  existence,  they  may  be  changed.  But  I  do  not  un- 
derstand the  doctrine  now  contended  for,  to  be  that  which,  for 
the  sake  of  distinctness,  we  may  call  the  right  of  revolution. 
I  understand  the  gentleman  to  maintain,  that  without  revolution, 
without  civil  commotion,  without  rebellion,  a  remedy  for  sup- 
posed abuse  and  transgression  of  the  powers  of  the  General  Gov- 
ernment, lies  in  a  direct  appeal  to  the  interference  of  the  State 
Governments. 

*  (Mr.  Hayne  here  rose :  He  did  not  contend,  he  said,  for  the 
mere  right  of  revolution,  but  for  the  right  of  constitutional  resist- 
ance. What  he  maintained  was,  that  in  case  of  a  plain,  palpable 
violation  of  the  Constitution  by  the  General  Government,  a  State 
may  interpose ;  and  that  this  interposition  is  constitutional.) 
Mr.  Webster  resumed :  So,  Sir,  I  understood  the  gentleman^ 
and  am  happy  to  find  that  I  did  not  misunderstand  him.  What 
he  contends  for  is,  that  it  is  constitutional  to  interrupt  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  Constitution  itself,  in  the  hands  of  those  who 
are  chosen  and  sworn  to  administer  it,  by  the  direct  interference, 
in  form  of  law,  of  the  States,  in  virtue  of  their  sovereign  ca- 
pacity.' 

Mr.  Webster,  after  these  explanations,  proceeded  to  argue 
the  main  question.  He  laid  it  down,  that  the  Federal  Constitu- 
tion was  the  creature  not  of  the  State  Legislatures,  but  of  the 
people  of  the  United  States.  If  each  State  were  competent  to 
decide  the  constitutionality  of  acts  of  the  General  Government, 
different  States  would  decide  the  same  question  in  different 
ways,  as  they  had  done  the  question  of  the  tariff,  in  connexion 
with  whicl^  the  present  doctrines  are  mainly  broached.  He 
referred  to  the  conduct  of  New  England,  in  reference  to  the 
embargo,  which  was  thought  unconstitutional  by  the  majority 
of  the  people  of  that  part  of  the  country,  but  submitted  to  after 
judicial  decision.  He  inquired  whence  the  States  acquired 
the  right  which  they  are  alleged  to  possess ;  and  denied  that 
they  possessed  it.  He  maintained  that  the  supreme  court  of 
the  United  States  was  the  tribunal  provided  by  the  people  of 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  62 


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486  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct- 

the  United  States,  for  settling  questions  of  the  constitationaKty 
of  laws ;  and  he  denied  the  power  of  the  individual  States  to 
decide  these  questions.  He  carried  out  into  its  practical 
consequences  an  attempt  to  execute  a  law  of  a  State, 
nullifying  a  law  of  the  United  States,  and  showed  that  those 
consequences  were  treason  and  civil  war ;  and  dwelt,  in  a 
brilliant  peroration,  on  the  blessings  of  the  Union.  The  usual 
hour  of  the  adjournment  of  the  Senate  bad  arrived,  when  Mr. 
Webster  closed  his  speech.  Mr.  Hayne,  however,  spoke  for 
near  an  hour  in  reply,  and  has  since  given  his  speech  in  a  more 
expanded  form.     Mr.  Webster  followed  in  a  brief  rejoinder. 

Here  the  debate,  as  between  these  two  gentlemen,  termi- 
nated. It  is  well  known,  that  the  discussion  was  continued  for 
several  weeks,  and  that  a  large  proportion  of  the  ipembers  of 
the  Senate  took  part  in  it.  In  its  progress,  almost  every  topic 
of  great  political  interest  was  brought  within  its  range.  The 
several  subjects  alreacly  mentioned  were  further  discussed,  and 
numerous  others  were  introduced.  Many  of  the  speeches 
were  distinguished  for  learning,  ingenuity,  and  power.  To 
some  of  tliem  we  may  perhaps  have  occasion  to  refer  in  the 
course  of  our  remarks.  But  it  would  be  manifestly  impossi- 
ble, as  it  would  be  aside  from  our  purpose,  to  pursue  the  anal- 
ysis of  the  debate. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remark,  that,  in  the  progress  of 
the  debate,  the  resolution  was  effectually  lost  sight  of.  At  its 
close  it  was  laid  on  the  table.  Since  the  termination  of  the 
session  of  Congress,  a  public  festival  has  been  held  in  Charles- 
ton, m  honor  of  Messrs.  Drayton  and  Hayne.  On  this  occa- 
sion, connecting  itself  closely  with  the  subject  of  the  debate 
under  consideration,  the  gentlemen  just  named  addressed  the 
company  on  the  interesting  topics  m  controversy,  on  which  we 
propose  to  make  some  remarks.  As  the  report  of  these  ad- 
dresses bears  evident  marks  of  having  received  the  sanction  of 
their  authors,  we  shall  not  think  it  indelicate  to  allude  to  them 
in  the  residue  of  this  article.  .  ^ 

A  great  excitement  has  for  some  time  prevailed  in  a  portion 
of  the  Southern  States  of  the  Union.  Several  ^actsof  the  Gen- 
eral Government  are  the  alleged  causes  of  this  excitement. 
Some  of  these  acts  are  considered  as  imposing  heavy  burdens 
on  the  Southern  States,  particularly  the  tariff  laws;  others  are 
objects  of  alarm,  as  menacing  the  security  of  the  property  held 
in  slaves ;  and  others  are  condemned  as  subversive  in  a  general 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  MdUfy  an  Act  of  Congress.  .  487 

way  of  the  political  system  established  by  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States,  particularly  the  laws,  by  which  appropria- 
tions are  made  for  executing  various  works  of  internal  improve- 
ment. We  particularise  these  three  grievances,  as  being  those, 
which  we  believe  to  be  considered  the  most  prominent.  They 
.  are  those,  which  have  been  specified  in  several  public  acts  at 
the  South,  particularly  in  a  series  of  resolutions  adopted  by  the 
Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  of  South  Carolina  in 
December,  1827,  and  presented  to  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States  at  the  first  session  of  the  twentieth  Congress.  In  the 
following  year,  a  very  elaborate  Report  was  made  by  a  special 
committee  of  the  House  of  Representatives  of  South  Carolina, 
accompanied  by  a  protest  against  the  tariff,  which  was  adopted 
by  bodi  branches  of  the  Legislature  of  that  State,  and  presented 
by  the  Senators  of  South  Carolina  to  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States.  This  protest  has  been  publicly  ascribed  to  the  distin- 
guished statesman,  who  now  fills  the  office  of  Vice-President. 
This  last  document,  after  stating  the  reasons,  for  which  the 
system  of  protecting  duties  is  declardtt  to  be  unconstitutional 
and  oppressive,  concludes  as  follows : 

*  Deeply  impressed  with  these  considerations,  the  Representa- 
tives of  the  good  people  of  this  Commonwealth,  anxiously  desir- 
ing to  live  in  peace  with  their  fellow-citizens,  and  to  do  all  that 
in  them  lies  to  preserve  and  perpetuate  the  Union  of  the  States 
and  the  liberties  of  which  it  is  the  surest  pledge^  but  feeling  it  to 
be  their  bounden  duty  to  expose  and  resist  all  encroachments 
upon  th6  true  spirit  of  the  Constitution^  lest  an  apparent  acqui- 
escence in  the  system  of  protecting  duties  should  be  drawn  into 
precedent,  do,  in  thfe  name  of  the  Commonwealth  of  South  Caro- 
lina, claim  16  enter  upon  the  Journals  of  th^  Senate,  their  pro- 
test against  it  as  unconstitutional,  oppressive,  and  unjust.' 

This  protest  is  supposed  to  express  the  opinions  of  a  large 
majority  of  the 'people  of  several  of  the  Southern  States, — ^by 
whom  the  system  of  protecting  duties  is  considered  unconstitu- 
tional and  oppressive. 

We  believe  it  may  without  injustice  be  stated,  that  the  ex- 
citement existing  on  this  subject,  is  considerably  greater  in 
South  Carolina,  than  elsewhere.  In  that  State  and  in  refer- 
ence to  the  present  grievances,  the  doctrine  has  been  avowed 
by  numerous  individuals  collected  at  public  meetings ;  by  res- 
pectable citizens  on  various  occasions;  and  particularly  by 
members  of  Congress  from  that  State  in  their  places  on  the 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


488  T%e  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

floor,  that  the  several  States  of  this  Union  possess  a  constitu- 
tional right,  when  laws  unconstitutional  and  oppressive  are 
Eassed  by  Congress,  of  mterposing  to  arrest  the  evil.  It  has 
een  intimated  and  asserted,  that  it  is  the  right  and  duty  of  the 
Southern  States  to  interpose  in  this  way  on  this  occasion  ;  and 
the  strongest  assurances  and  menaces  have  been  held  out  that 
South  Carolina  will  do  it. 

We  take  up  this  subject  with  earnestness  and  in  good  faith. 
The  discontent  exists  in  a  quarter,  which  we  admit  to  be,  in 
the  highest  degree  respectable.  It  is  encouraged  by  men  of 
high  character  and  distinguished  talent.  The  burdens  com- 
plained of  are  unquestionably  believed  to  exist.  The  remedy 
suggested  is  supported  by  grave  argument,  and  we  shall  gravely 
meet  it.  We  shall  say  nothing  in  unkindness,  nothing  in  levity, 
nothing  in  anger }  although  something  in  sorrow ;  but  every 
thing  in  the  spirit  of  union  and  fraternal  feeling.  The  subject 
demands  and  would  well  admit  an  ample  volume,  but  we  have 
but  a  few  pages  left,  and  must  compress  our  remarks  into  some 
desultory  paragraphs. 

It  is  alleged  then,  that  the  Southern  States,  and  more  especially 
South  Carolina,  being  much  aggrieved  by  unconstitutional  laws 
of  the  Federal  Government,  have  a  right  to  interpose  and  nullify 
the  said  laws,  and  particularly  those  laws  by  which  duties  are 
laid  on  imports  for  the  protection  of  manufajctures. 

It  will  readily  occur,  that  the  claim  of  a  right  of  nullifying  a 
law  of  the  United  States  is  somewhat  vague  and  mdeterminate 
in  its  acceptation.  We  do  not  know  precisely,  what  is  intended 
by  it ;  and  yet  we  must  fix  an  idea  of  what  it  is,  before  we 
can  reason  for  or  against  it.  Mr.  Hayne,  in  his  speech  at 
what  is  called  the  State  Rights'  dinner,  given  at  Charleston 
on  the  3d  of  July,  says,  'The  mode,  in  which  these  principles 
are  to  be  brought  into  operation,  when  a  case  shall  arise  to 
justify  their  application,  is  a  question  concerning  which  there 
may  exist  much  difference  of  opinion,  and  which  it  appears  to 
me  of  no  importance  to  decide.'  In  his  speech  *  on  the  Pro- 
hibitory System,'  at  the  last  session  of  Congress,  Mr.  Mc  Duffie 
said,  '  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  in  this  place,  what  course  South 
Carolina  may  deem  it  her  duty  to  pursue  in  this  great  emer- 
gency. It  is  enough  to  say,  that  she  perfectly  understands  the 
ground  which  she  occupies,  and  be  assured,  Sir,  that  whatever 
attitude  she  may  assume  in  her  highest  sovereign  capacity,  she 
will  firmly  and  fearlessly  maintain  it,  be  the  consequences  what 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  JfuUify  an  Act  of  Congress.  4B9 

they  may.'  And  farther  on,  '  But,  Sir,  in  a  case  of  extreme 
injustice  and  oppression,  I  will  not  stop  to  moot  points  of  con- 
stitutional construction.  I  place  the  right  and  the  obligation  of 
a  sovereign  State  to  interpose  the  shield  of  its  sovereignty  be- 
tween its  citizens  and  oppression  on  much  higher  ground.' 

It  might  at  first  blush  be  supposed,  that  Mr.  McDuffie  was 
here  contending  for  the  great  and  original  right  of  revolution,  a 
natural  right  of  social  man.  But  as  nobody  contests  this  right, 
and  as  Mr.  Mc  Duffie  is  not  wasting  his  breath  in  asserting  what 
nobody  denies,  we  must  suppose,  that  he,  like  Mr.  Hayne,  re- 
fers to  some  constitutional  right,  possessed  by  the  State  Gov- 
ernments, to  protect  the  citizens  of  the  States  against  unconsti- 
tutional laws  of  the  General  Government.  But  it  is  plain,  that 
till  we  know  precisely  what  this  alleged  constitutional  right  is, 
the  discussion  of  it  is  idle. 

Is  it  a  mere  right  of  protest  ?  The  Legislature  of  South  Caro- 
*  lina,  as  well  as  of  some  other  States,  has  formally  protested 
against  the  obnoxious  laws.     Now  we  think  a  strong  argument 
could  be  made  against  the  constitutional  right  of  the  legislative 
branch  of  a  State  Government  to  remonstrate  against  a  law  of 
the  General  Government.     Generally  speaking,  the  constitu- 
tional right  of  remonstrance  vests  in  the  constituents  or  the 
subjects  of  a  Government.    Although  the  State  Legislatures,  in 
1787 — 1789,  had  an  agency  in  the  formation  of  the  Federal 
Government ;  and  at  subsequent  periods  have  had,  and  have 
an  agency,  in  creating  both  branches  of  the  legislature  and  the 
executive,  yet  the  State  Legislatures,  as  such,  are  in  no  sense  the 
constituents  or  the  subjects  of  the  General  Government.     The 
State  Governments  have  been  and  are  delegated  to  perform 
some  acts  touching  the  General  Government.     But  they  are  not 
known  to  the  Constitution,  in  any  degree,  as  the  regular  de- 
positaries of  the  constituent  power.  It  may  therefore  be  doubted, 
as  we  have  observed,  whether  the  State  Governments  have  a 
constitutional  right  to  remonstrate  against  acts  of  a  Government, 
of  which  they  are  neither  subjects  nor  constituents.    The  mere 
circumstance,  that  it  is  very  convenient  for  the  State  Legisla- 
ture to  proceed  on  these  subjects,  by  way  of  resolution,  proves 
nothing.   The  stronger  fact,  that  the  State  Legislatures  are  very 
apt  to  form  themselves  into  a  grand  inquest  of  the  Common- 
wealth, and  express  opinions  touching  tlie  public  weal,  also 
proves  nothing.     Congress  also  acts  by  resolution  with  great 
convenience,  and  Congress  is  the  grand  inquest  of  the  nation. 


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490  3%c  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

But  if  Congress  were  to  pass  resolutions,  touching  the  laws  of 
Virginia,  relative  to  the  liability  of  real  estate  as  security  for 
debt,  they  would  soon  be  told,  that  the  said  laws  were  constitu- 
tionally enacted  by  the  Government  of  Virginia,  which  Govern- 
ment wasiioi  responsible  to  Congress. 

For  these  and  other  reasons,  we  think  the  constitutional 
right  of  protest  on  the  part  of  the  State  Governments  question- 
able. We  apprehend  incpnvenienqe  from  the  presentation  of 
these  protests  to  Congress.  Still,  however,  if  the  South  Carolina 
doctrine,  (we  call  it  so  not  invidiously,  but  for  convenience,) 
went  no  further  than  to  assert  the  right  of  the  State  Legislatures 
to  protest  against  the  acts  of  the  General  Government,  we  should 
DQt  thbk  it  a  very  serious  matter ;  nor  employ  our  time  on  this 
occadon  in  discussing  it. 

We  cannot  suppose  it  necessary,  ourselves,  to  protest  against 
being  thought  to  encroach  on  the  sacred  right  possessed  by  the 
people^  to  address  the  Government,  either  of  the  State  or  of  the 
Union.  *  The  right  of  the  people  peaceably  to  assemble,  and 
to  petition  the  Government  for  a  redress  of  grievances,'  is  one  of 
the  express  guaranties  of  the  Constitution;  and  were  it  not 
stipulated  by  the  Constitution,  it  would  be  not  the  less  a  right. 
It  is  one  of  those  rights,  which  could  not  be  abandoned  by  any 
man,  not  even  for  himself.  If  he  promised  to-day  not  to  peti- 
tion against  a  grievance,  he  would  have  a  right  to  petition  to- 
morrow to  be  released  from  that  promise. 

Nor  shall  we  now  argue  against  the  various  modes  in  which 
it  has  been  proposed  by  individuals,  sonsetimes  without  respon- 
sibility and  in  a  tumultuary  manner,  that  South  Carolina  should 
exercise  her  right  of  interposition;  such  as  a  formal  secession 
from  the  Union ;  pr  the  declaration  that  Charleston  shall  be  a 
-  free  port.  We  suppose  that  no  one  will  contend,  that  either  of 
these  acts  would  be  constitutional.  They  are  different  modes, 
by  which  South  Carolina,  in  an  extrenie  case,  would  exercise 
the  right  of  revolution.  Supposing  either  to  be  done  and 
South  Carolina  erected  into  an  independent  sovereignty,  the 
city  of  Charleston,  if  driven  by  the  rest  of  the  State  to  ex- 
.tremity,  would  have  the  same  right  to  constitute  itself  a  sepa- 
rate Commonwealth — a  new  sovereignty ; — ^and  when  this  had 
taken  place,  every  citizen  and  every  slave  in  the.  city,  would 
have  a  right,  at  his  peril,  if  he  chose,  to  make  war  on  the  rest 
pf.tlie  people,  to  constitute  himself,  an, independent  sovereign. 
But  these  rights  are  all  natural,  not  constitutional*  and  they  are 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  JiiiUify  an  Act  of  Congress.  491 

rights,  which  Constitutions  can  as  little  recognise,  as  they  can 
invalidate.  They  cannot  be  taken  away,  for  they  belong  to 
our  nature.  They  cannot  be  recognised  by  a  Constitution,  for 
they  dissolve  the  social  compact. 

We  should  be  disposed  to  reason  much  in  the  same  way  on 
the  proposition,  that  the  States,  being  the  parties  to  the  com* 
pact,  must  judge,  each  for  itself,  when  it  is  infrmged.*  If  by 
this  be  meant,  that  the  State  Legislatures  may  express  judg- 
ments on  this  subject,  it  is  the  case  just  considered.  If  it 
be  meant,  that  the  people  of  each  State  must  judge  for  them- 
selves, when  their  rights,  as  such,  are  mvaded,  we  do  not 
know  that  we  should  contest  it.  It  has  been  said,  by  a  writer, 
whom  we  shall  quote  more  particularly  in  the  sequel,  (Mr. 
Mc  Duffie,)  that  *  the  States  as  political  bodies  have  no  orig- 
inal inherent  rights.'*  We  will  not  now  discuss  that  propo- 
sition, although  it  is  very  ingeniously  stated,  and  connects  it- 
self, we  think,  with  sound  views  of  general  politics.  But  it 
may,  we  thmk,  be  safely  said,  that  the  people  of  the  several 
States,  as  such,  have  very  few  rights  so  peculiar,  that  they 
alone  are  the  competent  judges  of  their  infraction.  What  right, 
for  instance,  has  South  Carolina,  so  peculiar,  that  she  alone  can 
judge  as  a  people,  whether  it  is  invaded  ?  Still,  if  the  people  of 
South  Carolina,  as  such,  have  any  peculiar  rights,  we  admit,  that 
they  alone  can  judge  for  themselves  of  their  infraction.  But  to 
what  does  such  a  proposition  amount  ?  Every  man,  and  every 
body  of  men,  that  judges  at  all,  must  judge  for  himself  or  them- 
selves. Nobody  can  do  it  for  them ;  it  is  an  act  of  the  judging 
capacity.  A  man  may  folbw  another's  judgment;  that  is,  he  may 
himself  judge,  that  on  any  subject  his  friend's  opinion  is  sound. 
If  the  doctrine  in  question,  then,  mean  only  that  the  people  of 
a  State  can  alone  form  a  correct  opinion,  whether  rights  pe- 
culiar to  themselves  have  been  invaded,  it  is  a  sound,  but  ex- 
ceedingly inconsequential  proposition. 

But  South  Carolina  is  not  raising  her  voice  for  these  meta- 
physical subtleties.  She  claims  a  substantial  power,  a  right 
to  do  something  ;  but  what  it  is,  may  not  perhaps  be  matter 
of  agreement  among  those  who  agree  in  the  claim. 

The  following  extracts,  however,  will  probably  be  consid- 


*  National  and  State  Rights  Considered,  by  *  One  of  the  People^*^  in 
reply  to*  The  Trio.'    Charieston.    1821. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


492  3%e  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

«red  as  stating,  in  the  most  authentic  form,  precisely  what  the 
nullification  doctrine  is.    Mr.  Hayne,  in  his  second  speech,  says, 

*  But  what  then  ?  asks  the  gentleman.  A  State  is  brought  into 
collision  with  the  United  States,  in  reference  to  the  exercise  of 
unconstitutional  powers ;  who  is  to  decide  between  them  ?  Sir, 
it  is  the  common  case  of  difference  of  opinion  between  sove- 
reigns, as  to  the  true  construction  of  a  compact.  Does  such  a 
difference  of  opinion  necessarily  produce  war  ?  No.  And  if  not 
among  rival  nations,  why  should  it  do  so  among  friendly  States  1 
In  all  such  cases,  some  mode  must  be  devised  by  mutual  agree- 
ment, for  settling  the  difficulty ;  and  most  happily  for  us,  that 
mode  is  clearly  indicated  in  the  Constitution  itself,  and  results 
indeed  from  the  very  form  and  structure  of  the  Government. 
The  creating  power  is  three  fourths  of  the  States.  By  their  de- 
cision, the  parties  to  the  compact  have  agreed  to  be  bound,  even 
to  the  extent  of  changing  the  entire  form  of  the  Government  it- 
self;  and  it  follows  of  necessity,  that  in  a  case  of  deliberate  and 
settled  difference  of  opinion  between  the  parties  to  the  compact 
as  to  the  extent  of  the  powers  of  either,  resort  must  be  had  to 
their  common  superior,  (that  power  which  may  give  any  charac^ 
ter  to  the  Constitution  they  may  think  proper,*)  viz.  three  fourths 
of  the  States.  ♦  ♦  ♦  ♦ 

*  But  it  has  been  asked,  why  not  compel  a  State,  objecting  to 
the  constitutionality  of  a  law,  to  appeal  to  her  sister  States,  by  a 
proposition  to  amend  the  Constitution  ?  I  answer,  because  such 
a  course  would,  in  the  first  instance,  admit  the  exercise  of  an 
unconstitutional  authority,  which  the  States  are  not  bound  to 
submit  to,  even  for  a  day ;  and  because  it  would  be  absurd  to 
suppose,  that  any  redress  would  ever  be  obtained,  by  such  an 
appeal,  even  if  a  State  were  at  liberty  to  make  it.  If  a  majority 
of  both  houses  of  Congress  should,  from  any  motive,  be  induced 
deliberately  to  exercise  "  powers  not  granted,"  what  prospect 
would  there  be  of  "  arresting  the  progress  of  the  evil,"  by  a  vote  of 
three  fourths  ?     But  the  Constitution  does  not  permit  a  minority 


*  We  camiot  refrain  from  expressing  the  opinion,  that  the  doc- 
trine here  advanced,  as  to  the  extent  of  me  amending  power,  is  wholly 
unsound ;  and  in  its  consequences,  it  is  surely  open  to  all  the  objec- 
tions urffed  by  Mr.  Hayne  against  the  competency  of  the  Supreme 
Court  ofthe  United  States,  to  settle  constitutional  questions.  Suppose 
three  quarters  ofthe  twenty-four  States  should  agree  in  an  amendment 
ofthe  Constitution,  limiting  the  six  smallest  States  ofthe  Union  to  one 
Senator  each.  Would  such  an  amendment  be  binding  ?  We  appre- 
hend no  more  so,  than  an  amendment  made  in  defiance  ofthe  express 
reservations  ofthe  Constitution. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  NvUify  an  Act  of  CoTigress.  493 

to  submit  to  the  people  a  proposition  for  an  amendment  of  the 
Constitution.  Such  a  proposition  can  only  come  from  two  thirds 
of  the  two  Houses  of  Congress,  or  the  Legislatures  of  two  thirds 
of  the  States.  It  will  be  seen,  therefore,  at  once,  that  a  minor- 
ity, whose  constitutional  rights  are  violated,  can  have  no  redress 
by  an  amendment  of  the  Constitution.  When  any  State  is  brought 
into  direct  collision  with  the  Federal  Government,  in  the  case  of 
an  attempt  by  the  latter  to  exercise  unconstitutional  powers,  the 
appeal  must  be  made  by  Congress,  (the  party  proposing  to  exert 
the  disputed  power,)  tit  order  to  have  it  expressly  conferred,  and 
vntil  so  conferred,  the  exercise  of  such  authority  must  be  suS' 
pended.' 

The  following  is  the  manner  in  which  the  doctrine  is  stated 
by  Colonel  Drayton,  in  his  speech  at  the  Charleston  dinner  : 

*  Our  citizens,  suffering  under  an  act,  which  a  great  majority 
of  them  believe  to  be  unconstitutional,  have  naturally  been  led  to 
deliberate  on  the  steps  which  ought  to  be  taken,  under  circum- 
stances so  critical  and  momentous.  Of  the  expedients  proposed, 
that  which  seems  most  generally  to  be  relied  upon,  is,  through 
the  medium  of  the  Legislature,  or  of  a  convention  chosen  by  the 
people,  to  nullify  the  obnoxious  law,  or  in  other  words,  to  declare 
it  unconstitutional ;  and  to  absolve  our  citizens  from  obedience 
to  it,  unless  a  contrary  decision  should  be  pronounced  by  three 
fourths  of  the  Legislatures  of  the  several  States,  or  by  a  conven- 
tion of  the  people  in  the  same  number  of  States.' 

Supposmg  this  to  be  the  definition  of  the  nullifying  power, 
we  will  first  observe,  that  it  wholly  fails  of  the  support  of  the 
Virginia  and  Kentucky  Resolutions.  Those  Resolutions,  as- 
cribed respectively  to  Mr.  Madison  and  to  Mr.  Jefferson,  have 
occupied  die  front  rank  in  the  authorities  quoted  in  favor  of  the 
nullifying  doctrine.  Mr.  Hayne,  in  his  first  speech,  in  reply 
to  Mr.  Webster,  confines  himself  to  this  authority ;  and  in  his 
second  speech,  it  is  the  most  prominent  topic  of  argument. 
•  Mr.  Mc  Duffie,  in  bis  few  observations  on  the  subject,  in  the 
speech  above  cited,  appeals  to  no  other  authority ;  and  gen- 
erally speaking,  the  greatest  pains  are  taken,  and  the  strongest 
desire  evinced,  to  identify  the  South  Carolma  doctrine  of  1828, 
iv'ith  the  Virginia  doctrine  of  1798. 

We  repeat,  then,  that  if  the  South  Carolina  doctrine  be  what 

Mr.  Hayne  and  Colonel  Drayton  define  it,  viz.  the  right  of  a  State 

to  suspend  the  operation  of  a  law  of  the  General  Government, 

till  Congress  has  procured  an  amendment  of  the  Constitution, 

VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  63 


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494  The  Right  of  a  SttUe  [Oct. 

granting  the  power  to  enaet  such  a  law,  the  Re8olutioDS«of  Vir- 
ginia and  Kentucky  give  no  authority  to  such  a  doctrme.* 

The  Virginia  Resolutions  were  occasioned  by  the  Alien  and 
Seditbn  Laws ;  and  the  second  of  tliem  is  expressed  in  the 
following  terms : 

'  That  this  assembly  doth  explicitly  and  peremptorily  declare,, 
that  it  views  the  powers  of  the  Federal  Government  as  resulting' 
&om  the  compact,  to  which  the  States  are  parties ;  as  limited  by 
the  plain  sense  and  intention  of  the  instrument  constituting  that 
compact ;.  as  no  farther  valid,  thaa  they  are  authorized  by  the 
grants  enumerated  in  that  compact ;  and  that  in  case  of  a  delib- 
erate, palpable^  and  dangerous,  exercise  of  other  powers,,  not 
granted  by  the  said  compact,  the  States  who  are  parties  thereto 
have  a  right,  and  are  in  duty  bound,  to  interpose  for  arresting  the 
progress  of  the  evil :  and  for  maintaining,  within  their  respective 
limks,  the  authorities,  rights,  and  liberties  appertaining  to  them.' 

This  is  the  authority  of  the  Virginia  Resolutions.  It  goes- 
only  to  a  right  of  the  States,  (not,  it  will  be  observed,  the  State 
Legislatures^)  to  interpose  to  arrest  the  evih  This  then  settles, 
nothing,  as  to  the  mode  of  interposition ;,  and  it  is  very  clear^ 
that  if  it  Is  a  constitutional  right,  it  must  be  exercised  in  a  con- 
stitutional mode ;.  and  till  the  contrary  be  shown,  we  are  bound  to- 
suppose  that  the  Virginia  Resolution,  contemplated  nothing  but 
constitutional  modes  of  resistance.  This  is  not  left  to  isfer- 
ence.     The  seventh  resolution  is  in  the  following  words  : 

'  That  the  good  people  of  tins  Conunon  wealth,,  having  ever  felt 
and  continuing  to  feel  the  most  sincere  affection  to  their  breth- 
ren of  the  other  States,  the  truest  anxiety  for  establishing  and 
perpetuating  the  union  of  all,  and  the.  most  scrupulous  fidelity  to 
that  Constitution,  which  is  the  pledge  of  mutual  friendship  and  the 
instrument  of  mutual  happiness,  the  General  Assembly  doth  sol- 
emnly appeal  to  the  like  dispositions  of  other  States,,  in  confid'ence 
that  they  will  concur  with  this  Commonwealth,  in-dedaring,  as  it 
does  hereby  declare,  that  the  acts  aforesaid  are  unconstitutional, 
and  that  the  necessary  and  proper  measures  will  be-  taken  by 
each,  for  co-operating  with  this  State  in  maintaining  ummpaired 

*  We  are  prevented  by  want  of  space  from  remarking  on  the  ez- 
tfoi^e  inadequateness  of  tne  remedy  proposed  for  a  case,  in  which  a 
sovereign  State  is  oppressed  by  the  General  Government,  viz.  that 
whenever  three  quarters  of  the  States  conspire,  the  States  in  the  mi- 
nority n^ust  suhmit  This  remedy  appears  to  us  open  to  all  the  objec- 
tions made  to  the  ordinary  construction  of  the  Constitution. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  Nullify  an  Act  of  Congress.  4M 

the  authorities,  rights,  and  liberties  resca-ved  to  the  States  re- 
spectively and  the  people.' 

Here  the  States  are  exhorted  to  concur  with  Virginia,  in 
declaring  the  laws  unconstitutional.  That  of  itself  is  no  more 
than  a  protest,  and  though  in  our  view  of  the  subject  open  to 
exception,  a  measure,  as  we  have  said,  not  worth  contesting. 
But  then  the  States  were  also  called  on  by  Virginia,  to  adopt, 
each  of  them,  *  the  necessary  and  proper  measures'  for  reme- 
dying the  evil  of  these  laws  ;  and  before  the  Virginia  Resohi- 
tions  can  be  appealed  to,  as  authority  for  the  South  Carolina 
doctrines,  it  must  be  shown,  or  rendered  probaMe,  that  among 
*  these  necessary  and  proper  measures'  was  that  of  refusing 
obedience  to  the  law,  till  two  thirds  of  the  States  had  sanc- 
tioned it  by  an  amendment  of  the  Constitution.  Is  there  a 
shadow  of  proof  or  presumption,  that  this  was  the  fact  ?  On 
the  contrary,  there  is  the  strongest  proof  against  it.  These 
resolutions  were  communicated  to  the  several  States,  and  by 
many  of  them  resolutions  were  passed,  expressing  dissent  from 
the  doctrines  contained  in  them.  In  no  one  of  these  resolu- 
tions, is  there  any  hint,  that  such  was  the  purport  of  the  Vir- 
ginia doctrine ;  although  it  would  have  been  natural  for  the 
States  opposed  to  Virginia,  highly  dissatisfied  as  they  were 
with  her  course,  to  represent  it  in  a  light  as  obnoxious  as  they 
could,  with  truth.  But  the  proof  does  not  stop  here.  In 
the  session  of  the  Virginia  Assembly,  following  that  when  the 
resolves  were  passed,  the  responsive  resolutions  of  the  other 
States  were  referred  to  a  committee,  and  from  this  committee 
Mr.  Madison  made  his  famous  Report,  reaffirming  the  principles 
of  the  resolutions  of  1798.  Toward  the  close  of  this  Report, 
he  is  led  to  inquire  into  the  objections  to  the  seventh  resolu- 
tion, and  on  this  subject  he  speaks  as  follows : 

*  It  is  lastly  to  be  seen,  whether  the  confidence  expressed  by 
the  resolution,  that  the  necessary  and  proper  measures  would  be 
taken  by  the  other  States,  for  co-operating  with  Virginia  in 
maintaining  the  rights  reserved  to  the  States,  or  to  the  people, 
be  in  any  degree  liable  to  the  objections  which  have  been  raised 
against  it. 

*  If  it  be  liable  to  objection,  it  must  be  because  either  the  ob^ 
ject  or  the  means  are  objectionable. 

'  The  object  being  to  maintain  what  the  Constitution  has  or** 
dained,  is  in  itself  a  laudable  object. 

'  The  means  are  expressed  in  the  terms  ''  the  necessary  and 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


496  Tie  Right  of  a  State  [Oct« 

pr<^r  measures."  A  proper  object  was  to  be  pursued,  by  means 
both  necessary  and  proper. 

'To  find  an  objection,  then,  it  must  be  shown  that  some 
meaning  was  annexed  to  these  general  terms,  which  was  not 
proper ;  and,  for  this  purpose,  either  that  the  means  used  by  the 
General  Assembly  were  an  example  of  improper  means,  or  that 
there  were  no  proper  means  to  which  the  terms  could  refer. 

'  In  the  example  given  by  the  State,  of  declaring  the  alien 
and  sedition  acts  to  be  unconstitutional,  and  of  communicating 
the  declaration  to  the  other  States,  no  trace  of  improper  means 
has  appeared.  And  if  the  other  States  had  concurred  in  making 
a  like  declaration,  supported  too  by  the  numerous  applications 
flowing  immediately  from  the  people,  it  can  scarcely  be  doubted, 
that  these  simple  means  would  have  been  as  sufficient,  as  they 
are  unexceptionable. 

'  It  is  no  less  certain,  that  other  means  might  have  been  em- 
ployed, which  are  strictly  within  the  limits  of  the  Constitution. 
The  Legislatures  of  the  States  might  have  made  a  direct  repre- 
sentation to  Congress,  with  a  view  to  obtain  a  rescinding  of  the 
two  offensive  acts ;  or,  they  might  have  represented  to  their  re- 
spective Senators  in  Congress,  their  wish,  that  two  thirds  thereof 
would  propose  an  explanatory  amendment  to  the  Constitution ; 
or  two  thirds  of  themselves,  if  such  had  been  their  option,  might, 
by  an  application  to  Congress,  have  obtained  a  convention  for 
the  same  object. 

'  These  several  means,  though  not  equally  eligible  in  them- 
selves, nor  probably,  to  the  States,  were  ail  constitutionally  open 
for  consideration.  And  if  the  General  Assembly,  after  declaring 
the  two  acts  to  be  unconstitutional,  the  first  and  most  obvious 
proceeding  on  the  subject,  did  not  undertake  to  point  out  to  the 
other  States,  a  choice  among  the  farther  measures  that  might  be- 
come necessary  and  proper,  the  reserve  will  not  be  misconstrued 
by  liberal  minds  into  any  culpable  imputation.' 

Here  we  see  what  sort  of  means  were  contemplated.  They 
were,  first,  declarations  that  the  lawSv  were  unconstitutional ; 
secondly,  direct  representations  from  the  Legislatures  of  the 
States  to  Congress,  to  obtain  the  repeal  of  the  laws ;  thirdly, 
requests  to  their  Senators  in  Congress  to  propose  an  amend- 
ment of  the  Constitution  ;  fourthly,  a  concurrence  of  two  thirds 
of  the  States  to  apply  to  Congress  for  a  convention  to  amend 
the  Constitution.  These  are  all  the  measures  which  Mr.  Mad- 
ison suggests,  and  he  introduces  them  by  saying,  that  they  are 
all  '  wiSiin  the  limits  of  the  Constitution.' 

But  there  are  one  or  two  other  interestmg  facts,  connected 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  MuUify  an  Act  of  Congress.  497 

with  these  resolutions.  Great  industry  has  been  exerted  to  con- 
nect the  terms  nullifying  and  nullification  with  the  Virginia 
Resolutions.  Mr.  Mc  DufBe,  in  his  speech  above  referred  to, 
after  quoting  the  Kentucky  Resolution  of  1799,  *  a  resolution 
drawn  up  (he  says)  by  the  hand  of  Thomas  Jefferson,' — which 
we  shall  presently  make  probable  not  to  be  the  fact, — in  which 
resolution,  '  nullification  by  the  sovereign  States  is  declared  to 
be  the  rightful  remedy  for  unauthorized  acts  of  the  General 
Government,'  adds,  '  the  celebrated  resolutions  of  Virginia 
maintain  the  same  doctrinq,  in  language  equally  explicit.'  We 
have  seen  how  far  short  the  Virginia  Resolutions  come  of  this. 
But  the  case  is  very  strong  the  other  way.  As  those  resolu- 
tions were  originally  drafted,  the  seventh  of  them  set  forth,  that 
the  Alien  and  Sedition  Acts  *■  are  unconstitutional,  and  not  law^ 
but  utterly  JVULL^  void,  and  of  no  effects  The  words  in  italics 
were,  on  motion  of  Mr.  Taylor,  of  Carolme,  who  introduced  the 
resolutions,  stricken  out,  and  as  appears  from  the  contempora- 
neous report,  without  a  division.^  So  far,  then,  are  these  res- 
olutions from  sanctioning,  in  explicit  language,  the  doctrine  of 
nvllifvcation,  that,  in  the  only  case  where  the  word  null  ap- 
peared in  them,  it  was  stricken  out,  by  general  consent. 

We  will  mention  another  amendment,  which  was  made  in 
these  resolutions  on  their  passage.  The  third  resolution,  as 
reported,  ran,  '  that  this  assembly  doth  explicidy  and  peremp- 
torily declare,  that  it  views  the  powers  of  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment as  resulting  from  the  compact,  to  which  the  States  alone 
are  parties.'  This  word  alone  was  struck  out,  on  the  sugges- 
tion of  Mr.  Giles.  It  had  been  said,  that  the  people  only  were 
parties  to  the  compact ;  and  the  resolutions  declared  that  the 
States  alone  were  parties.  Mr.  Giles  said,  *  the  General  Gov- 
ernment was  partly  of  each  kind  ;'  and  on  this  ground  the  word 
done  was  stricken  out. 

If  the  people  of  the  United  States  are  in  any  degree  parties 
to  the  compact,  it  will  go  very  hard  with  the  doctrine  of  nulli- 
fication, which  rests  on  the  unsound  theory,  that  the  States  are 
the  only  parties ;  and  that  the  Union  is  a  mere  confederacy. 

*  Debates  in  the  House  of  Delegates  of  Virginia,  upon  certain  Res- 
olutions before  the  House  upon  the  important  subject  of  the  Acts  of 
Congress  passed  at  their  last  session,  commonly  called  the  Alien  and 
Sedition  Laws.  Richmond.  Printed  by  Thomas  Nicolson.  1798. 
pp,  171, 172. 


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498  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

Mr.  Ha3me  even  compares  the  Constitution  to  a  treaty  between 
friendly  sovereigns. 

We  will  say  another  word  of  the  Virginia  Resolutions.  We 
believe  they  contemplated  and  inculcate  none  but  constitutional 
means,  and  intended  to  effect  nothing  but  the  repeal  of  the  obnox- 
ious laws,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  legislation,  or  by  an  amend- 
ment of  the  Constitution.  Like  the  report  of  1799  in  defence 
of  them,  they  are  couched  in  temperate  language,  and  breathe 
nothing  but  attachment  to  the  Union.  At  the  same  time,  it 
must  be  remembered,  that  they  were  the  product  of  heated 
times.  The  country  was  then  about  equally  divided  into 
two  parties,  already  excited,  and  daUy  becoming  more  in- 
flamed in  the  contest.  These  resolutions  emanated  from  the 
distinguished  statesmen  who  led  the  republican  party,  then  out 
of  office ;  and  who  filled  its  two  highest  posts,  on  the  change  m 
the  administration,  which  shortly  ensued.  We  appeal, — not  to 
heated  partisans,  but  to  candid  men  of  all  sides, — ^whether  it  is 
to  such  a  period,  and  to  such  movements,  that  a  wise  politician 
would  look  for  the  most  settled  opinions,  even  of  the  men 
who  directed  those  movements.  At  the  same  time,  we  must 
repeat,  that  the  Virginia  Resolutions  and  Report  are  written 
with  a  coolness  and  temper  truly  astonishing,  when  the  time 
and  circumstances  are  considered, — and  worthy,  in  this  respect, 
of  being  followed  more  closely  as  a  precedent,  than  they  have 
been  in  South  Carolina,  by  the  politicians  who  think  they  find 
a  warrant  for  their  doctrines  in  these  resolutions. 

These  resolutions  passed  by  a  vote  of  one  hundred  to  sixty- 
three,  in  the  Virginia  Assembly ;  a  majority  far  from  over- 
whelming, on  such  a  question.  Among  those  opposed  to  them, 
in  the  community  at  large,  were  some  of  the  brightest  names 
in  the  catalogue  of  the  firiends  of  State  rights.  We  recommend 
to  the  consideration  of  our  readers,  and  especially  of  our  South* 
em  readers,  the  followmg  extract  from  a  most  valuable  pamph- 
let, the  production  of  a  citizen  of  South  Carolina,  who  does 
honor  to  his  native  State  and  his  country.* 

'  Patrick  Henry,  in  his  last  speech  against  the  Constitution, 
had  said,  in  1788,  (Wirt's  Life,  p.  297,)  "  If  I  shall  be  in  the 
minority,  I  shall  have  those  painful  sensations,  which  arise  from 

*  Speech  of  Thomas  S.Grimke,  delivered  in  December,  1828,  on  the 
Constitutionality  of  the  Tariff,  and  the  true  nature  of  State  Sovereignty, 
p.  a 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1 830.]  To  MiUify  an  Act  of  Congress.  499 

the  conviction  of  being  OYerpowered  in  a  good  cause.  Yet  I  will 
be  a  peaceable  citizen.  My  head,  my  hand,  and  my  heart  shall 
be  free  to  retrieve  the  loss  of  liberty,  and  remove  the  defects  of 
that  system,  in  a  constitutional  way,  I  wish  not  to  go  to  vio- 
lence ;  but  will  wait  with  hopes,  that  the  spirit,  which  predomi- 
nated in  the  Revolution  is  not  yet  gone,  nor  the  cause  of  those 
who  are  attached  to  the  Revolution  yet  lost.  I  shall,  therefore, 
patiently  wait,  in  expectation  of  seeing  that  government  changed, 
so  as  to  be  compatible  with  the  safety,  liberty,  and  happiness  of 
the  people." 

'  What  Patrick  Henry  meant  by  this  "  constitutional  way,"  is 
explained  in  his  speech  to  the  people,  at  the  election  in  1798  ; 
for,  although  he  was  then  nearly  sixty-three,  he  offered  himself 
as  a  candidate  for  the  House  of  Delegates  ;  because  he  believed 
the  sentiments  and  conduct  of  his  own  Virginia,  in  relation  to 
the  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws,  to  be  unconstitutional,  and  danger- 
ous.    He  said  to  the  people, 

'  **  That  the  late  proceedings  of  the  Virginia  Assembly  had 
filled  him  with  apprehensions  and  alarm  ;  that  they  had  planted 
thorns  upon  his  pillow  ;  that  they  had  drawn  him  from  that  happy 
retirement,  which  it  had  pleased  a  bountiful  Providence  to  bestow, 
and  in  which  he  had  hoped  to  pass,  in  quiet,  the  remainder  of  his 
days ;  that  the  State  had  quitted  the  sphere  in  which  she  had  been 
placed  by  the  Constitution  ;  and  in  daring  to  pronounce  upon  the 
validity  of  federal  laws,  had  gone  out  of  her  jurisdiction  in  a  man- 
ner not  warranted  by  any  authority,  and  in  the  highest  degree 
alarming  to  every  considerate  man ;  that  such  opposition,  on  the 
part'  of  Virginia,  to  the  acts  of  the  General  Government,  must 
beget  their  enforcement  by  military  power ;  that  this  would  prob- 
ably produce  civil  war ;  civil  war,  foreign  alliances ;  and  that 
foreign  alliances  must  necessarily  end  in  subjugation  to  the 
powers  called  in."  Mr.  Henry,  proceeding  in  his  address  to  the 
people,  asked,  **  whether  the  county  of  Charlotte  would  have  any 
authority  to  dispute  an  obedience  to  the  laws  of  Virginia  ;  and  he 
pronounced  Virginia  to  be  to  the  Union,  what  the  county  of 
Charlotte  was  to  her.  Having  denied  the  right  of  a  State  to  de- 
cide upon  the  constitutionality  of  federal  laws,  he  added,  that 
perhaps  it  might  be  necessary  to  say  something  of  the  merits  of 
the  laws  in  question.  His  private  opinion  was,  that  they  were 
^^  good  find  proper  J'  But,  whatever  might  be  their  merits,  it  be- 
longed to  the  people,  who  held  the  reins  over  the  head  of  Con- 
gress, and  to  them  alone,  to  say  whether  they  were  acceptable  or 
otherwise  to  Virginians ;  and  that  this  must  be  done  by  way  of 
petition.  That  Congress  were  as  much  our  representatives  as 
the  Assembly,  and  had  as  good  a  right  to  our  confidence.     He 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


500  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct 

had  fieea  with  regret  the  unlimited  power  over  the  purse  and 
sword  consigned  to  the  General  Government;  but  he  had 
been  overruled,  and  it  was  now  necessary  to  submit  to  the  con- 
stitutional exercise  of  that  power.  If,  said  he,  I  am  asked 
what  is  to  be  done  when  a  people  feel  themselves  intolerably  op- 
pressed, my  answer  is  ready : — Overturn  the  Government.  But 
do  not,  I  beseech  you,  carry  matters  to  this  length,  without  prov- 
ocation. Wait  at  least  until  some  infringement  is  made  upon 
your  rights,  and  which  cannot  otherwise  be  redressed ;  for  if  ever 
you  recur  to  another  change,  you  may  bid  adieu  forever  to  rep- 
resentative Government.  You  can  never  exchange  the  present 
Government,  but  for  a  monarchy." — Wirfs  Life  of  Hemy, 
pp.  39a-395.' 

When  the  resolutions  of  Virginia  were  communicated  to  the 
other  States,  they  were  disapproved  in  counter-resolutions,  by 
Delaware,  Rhode-Island,  Massachusetts,  New-York,  Connec- 
ticut, New-Hampshire,  and  Vermont.  We  mention  these 
States,  as  being  those  whose  counter-resolutions  are  appended 
to  the  Virginia  Report  of  1799.  That  other  States  not  enu- 
merated did  not  approve  them,  we  take  for  granted.  That 
any  State  responded  to  them,  besides  Kentucky,  does  not  ap- 
pear from  any  document  within  our  reach.  We  believe  no 
State  but  Kentucky  concurred.  It  is  stated  particularly  by 
Mr.  Grimke,  in  his  Speech  above  cited,  page  4,  that  *  South 
Carolina  took  no  part  in  the  sentiments  and  conduct  of  Vir- 
ginia in  1798,  in  reference  to  the  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws.* 

It  also  deserves  grave  reflection,  that  whatever  sanction  the 
authority  of  Messrs.  Jefferson  and  Madison  might  give  to  the 
South  Carolina  doctrine  in  theory,  they  give  it  none  in  its  ap- 
plication. The  Virginia  Resolutions  limit  the  right  of  a  State 
to  interpose,  to  cases  of  deliberate,  palpable,  and  dangerous 
violations  of  the  Constitution.  The  all-important  question  will 
then  recur,  is  Soutli  Carolina  now  interposing  in  the  case  of 
such  a  violation  of  the  Constitution  ?  And  in  answer  to  this 
question,  we  find  both  Mr.  Jefferson  and  Mr.  Madison,  not 
only  not  regarding  the  tariff  laws  as  unconstitutional,  but  recom- 
mending them,  in  their  highest  official  acts,  from  the  year  1789 
down.  It  is  true  that  Mr.  Jefferson,  at  a  late  period  of  his 
life,  expressed  opinions,  that  deliberate,  palpable,  and  danger- 
ous violations  of  the  Constitution  had  lately  been  committed ; 
but  the  tariff  laws  were  not  the  acts  to  which  he  more  particu- 
larly referred.    In  his  letter  to  Mr.  Giles,  of  December  26, 


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1830.]  To  J^uUify  an  Act  of  Congress.  601 

1826,  quoted  by  Mr.  Hajme,  there  is  a  reference  to  the  tariff 
laws  ^  as  an  indefinite  assumption  of  power  over  agriculture  and 
commerce/  but  in  the  protest  proposed  about  the  same  time, 
for  the  Legislature  of  Virginia,  in  1826,  we  perceive  no  distinct 
allusion  to  the  tariff.  Mr.  Hayne  observes,  that  in  that  protest 
Mr.  Jefferson  declares  *  the  powers  exercised  by  the  General 
Government,  in  reference  to  the  tariff  and  internal  improve- 
ments, to  be  usurpations  of  .the  powers  retained  by  the  States, 
mere  interpolations  into  the  compact,  direct  infractions  of  it.* 
Upon  looking  into  that  paper,  however,  we  find  no  certain  allu- 
sion to  the  tariff.  Internal  improvement  is  the  great  specified 
grievance.  At  all  events,  we  think,  no  judicious  friend  of  Mr* 
Jefferson's  memory  could  wish  to  make  it  appear,  that  in  1826, 
he  maintained  the  tariff  laws  to  be  a  violation  of  the  constitu- 
tion. Between  such  a  sentiment  and  those  contained  in  nearly 
all  his  messages  and  in  his  letters  to  Mr.  Austin  and  Leiper, 
there  is  too  wide  a  discrepancy,  we  think,  to  be  reconciled  to 
an  honest  diversity  of  opinion,  on  the  same  subject,  contem- 
plated at  different  times,  under  a  change  of  circumstances.  As 
to  the  Colonization  Society,  the  project  which  more  than  any 
other  appears  to  awaken  the  sensibilities  of  the  South,  Mr.  Jef- 
ferson was  warmly  in  favor  of  it,  and  in  reply  to  the  constitu- 
tional scruple  held,  *  that  a  ZiicraZ  CONSTRUCTION  justified  by 
the  object  would  go  far,  and  an  amendment  to  the  Constitution, 
the  whole  length  necessary,'  and  he  leaves  the  subject  *  with 
his  admonition  to  rise  and  be  doingj*  This  is  not  the  lan- 
guage of  a  man,  who  thought  that  the  patronage  of  this  society 
by  the  general  government  was  a  deliberate,  palpable,  and  dan- 
gerous violation  of  the  compact. 

We  will  now  revert  to  die  Kentucky  resolutions  of  1798, 
which  are  admitted  to  have  been  drafted  by  Mr.  Jefferson.  In 
these  resolutions,  it  is  stated,  that  acts  of  Congress,  made  in 
virtue  of  powers  not  delegated,  are  *  unauthoritative,  void,  and 
of  no  force ;  that  to  this  compact,  [the  Federal  Constitution,] 
each  State  acceded  as  a  State,  and  is  an  integral  party ;  that 
the  government  created  by  this  compact,  was  not  made  the  ex- 
clusive or  final  judge  of  the  extent  of  the  powers  delegated  to 
itself;  since  that  would  have  made  its  discretion  and  not  the 
Constitution  the  measure  of  its  powers  ;  but  that,  as  in  all  other 
cases  of  compact  among  parties  having  no  common  judge,  each 
party  has  an  equal  right  to  judge  for  itself,  as  well  of  infrac- 
tions as  of  the  mode  and  measure  of  redress.' 

VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  64 


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603  Hx  Right  of  a  State  [Oct 

This  falls  very  fiir  short  of  an  *  explicit'  avowal  of  any  right 
of  extra  constitutional  resistance.  It  authorises  in  no  degree, 
the  assertion,  that  die  measures  of  redress  contemplated  by  the 
Kentucky  resolutions,  went  beyond  ^  the  limits  of  the  Consti- 
tutbn,'  which  Mr.  Madison,  in  his  report,  declared  to  be  the 
boundary  of  those  contemplated  in  his  resolution  of  1798,  vie. 
measures  of  protest,  instruction  to  Senators,  and  amendment  of 
the  Constitution.  It  must  be  remembered,  that  those  opposed 
to  the  Virginia  and  Kentucky  resolutions  denied  the  right  of 
the  State  Legislatures  to  pass  them.  This  ground  was  tal^n  by 
Patrick  Henry,  as  we  have  seen,  in  the  passage  cited  from  his 
cpeech  above.  To  meet  such  an  opinion,  the  Kentucky  reso^ 
hjtions  declare  it  to  be  the  right  of  the  States  to  select  their 
means  of  redress ;  and  Mr.  Madison,  in  his  report,  argues, 
that  before  the  resolutions  can  be  objected  to,  it  must  be  shown 
that  the  means  of  redress  contemplated,  were  not  within  the 
limits  of  the  Constitution ;  and  then  enumerates  those  we  have 
just  mentioned.  Farther  than  this,  the  Kentucky  resolutions 
of  1798  do  not  go,  and  that  we  do  not  overstate  this  matter, 
will  abundantly  appear,  from  the  following  extract  from  the 
«b]e  and  instructive  speech  of  Mr.  Johnston,  of  Louisiana,  on 
the  resolution  of  Mr.  Foot,  p,  36. 

'  I  hold  in  my  hand  a  letter  from  George  Nicholas,  of  Ken- 
tucky, in  November,  1798.  He  was  a  conspicuous  member  of 
the  Virginia  Convention — an  able  lawyer  and  statesman — a  dis- 
tinguished Republican,  and  a  leading  and  influential  man,  in  the 
day  of  the  Kentucky  resolutions.  I  read  froift  this  letter,  to 
fthow  the  views  entertained  then  of  the  remedy  against  unconsti- 
tutional laws.  **  If  you  had  been  better  acquainted  with  the  citi- 
zens of  Kentucky,  you  would  have  known,  that  there  was  no  just 
cause  to  apprehend  an  improper  opposition  to  the  laws  from  them. 
The  laws  we  complain  of  may  be  divided  into  two  classes,  those 
which  we  admit  to  be  constitutional,  but  consider  as  impolitic, 
and  those  which  we  believe  to  be  unconstitutional,  and  therefore 
do  not  trouble  ourselves  to  inquire  as  to  their  policy,  because  we 
consider  them  as  absolute  nullities.  The  first  class  of  laws  hav- 
ing received  the  sanction  of  a  majority  of  the  representatives  of 
the  people  of  the  States,  we  consider  as  binding  on  us,  however 
We  differ  in  opinion  from  those  who  passed  them  as  to  their  pol- 
icy ;  and  although  we  will  exercise  our  undoubted  right  of  re- 
Dfionstrating  against  such  laws,  and  demanding  their  repeal  as 
far  as  our  numbers  will  justify  us  in  making  such  a  demand ;  we 
will  obey  them  with  promptitude,  and  to  the  extreme  of  our  abili- 
ties, so  long  as  they  continue  in  force.     As  to  the  second  class 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  JiuUtfy  au  4q(  of  Congress.  $03 

or  the  anooA8tUutioiial  liiw8,  although  we  coDsider  them  a£i  <tead 
letters,  and  therefore  that  we  might  legally  use  force  in  opposi^ 
tioa  to  any  attempts  to  execute  them ;  yet,  we  contemplate  no 
means  of  opposition,  even  to  those  unconstitutional  acts,  but  an 
appeal  to  the  real  laws  of  our  country.  As  long  as  our  excellent. 
Constitution  shall  be  considered  as  sacred,  by  any  department  of 
our  Government,  the  liberties  of  our  country  are  safe,  and  every 
attempt  to  violate  them  may  be  defeated  by  means  of  law,  with^ 
out  force  or  tumult  of  any  kind." ' 

Thus  much  for  the  Kentucky  resolutions  of  1798.  In  1799, 
it  was  deemed  necessary  to  revive  the  subject  and  reply  to 
those  States,  which  had  denied  the  doctrines  of  the  preceding 
year;  for  no  State  as  we  have  intimated  b  the  Union  had  ac- 
ceded to  them.  Accordingly,  on  the  14th  of  November,  1799,  a 
new  resolution  was  passed,  in  which  it  is  said,  that  '  the  seve- 
ral States,  who  formed  that  instrument,  (the  Constitution  of  the 
United  States,)  being  sovereign  and  independent,  have  the  un- 
questionable right  to  judge  of  its  infraction,  and,  that  a  wuUificar 
tioH,  by  those  sovereignties^  of  all  unauthorised  acts^  done  under 
color  of  that  instrument,  is  the  rightful  remedy.^ 

From  this  sentence  is  derived  the  appeUation,  which  is  given 
to  the  South  Carolina  doctrine  ;  and  on  this  sentence  rests  the 
claim  of  the  sanction  given  by  the  resolutions  of  Messrs.  Madi- 
son and  Jefferson  to  that  doctrine  by  that  name. 

To  give  assurance  to  this  sanction,  thq  Kentucky  resolutions 
of  1799  are  ascribed  to  Mr.  Jefferson^     Mr.  Hayne,  in  bis 
speech  at  the  Charleston  dinner,  says  that  ^  they  are  generally 
attributed  to  Mr.  Jefferson ; '  Mr.  Mc  Duffie  says,  *  they  were 
penned  bv  his  band  ;'    and  the  editor  of  the  Banner  of  the 
Constitution,  in  republishing  them,  in  his  paper  of  10th  April 
last,  together  with  the  Virginia  resolutions,  gives  them  jointly 
the  title  of  *  the  Resolutions  of  Vii^inia  and  Kentucky,  penned 
by  Madison  and  Jefferson.'    What  it  is  of  importance  to  state 
thus  repeatedly  and  confidently,  it  is  of  importance  to  state  cor- 
rectly.    We  do  not  say  that  this  Kentucky  resolution  of  1799, 
ffor  there  is  but  one  of  that  year,)  certainly  was  not  written  by 
Mr-  Jefferson  ;  but  we  say  there  is  a  strong  probability  that  it 
was  not.     It  passed  the  House  of  Representatives  of  Kentucky 
on  the  14lh  November,  1799.    We  have  a  letter  of  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son, of  the  5th  of  September,  preceding,  to  Wilson  Caiy  Nich- 
<3la^,  from  which  we  make  the  following  extracts. 


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604  T%e  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

'  I  had  written  to  Mr.  Madison,  as  I  had  before  informed  you, 
and  had  stated  to  him  some  general  ideas  for  consideration  and 
consultation,  when  we  should  meet.  1  thought  something  essen- 
tially necessary  to  be  said,  in  order  to  avoid  the  inference  of  ac- 
quiescence ;*  that  a  resolution  or  declaration  should  be  passed, 
answering  the  reasons  of  such  of  the  States,  as  had  ventured  into 
the  field  of  reason  ;  taking  some  notice  too  of  those  States,  who 
have  either  not  answered  at  all,  or  answered  without  reasoning. 
2d.  Making  firm  protestation  against  the  precedent  and  principle, 
and  reserving  the  right  to  make  this  palpable  violation  of  the 
Federal  compact  the  ground  of  doing  in  future,  whatever  we 
might  now  rightfully  do,  should  repetitions  of  these  and  other 
violations  of  the  compact  render  it  expedient.  3d.  Expressing, 
in  affectionate  and  conciliatory  language,  our  warm  attachment 
to  union  with  our  sister  States,  and  to  the  instrument  and  prin- 
ciples by  which  we  are  united,  &c.         ♦     ♦     ♦ 

'  This  was  only  meant  to  give  a  general  idea  of  the  complexion 
and  topics  of  such  an  instrument.  Mr.  Madison,  who  came,  as 
had  been  proposed,  does  not  concur  in  the  reservation  proposed 
above  ;  and  from  this  I  recede  readily,  not  only  in  deference  to 
his  judgment,  but  because,  as  we  should  never  think  of  separa- 
tion,  but  for  repeated  and  enormous  violations,  so  these,  when 
they  occur,  will  be  cause  enough  of  themselves.         »     ♦     * 

'  As  to  preparing  any  thing  I  must  decline  it,  to  avoid  suspi- 
cions, (which  were  pretty  strong  in  some  quarters  on  the  late  oc- 
casion,) and  because  there  remains  still  (afi;er  their  late  loss)  a 
mass  of  talents  in  Kentucky,  sufficient  for  every  purpose.  *  * 
How  could  you  better  while  away  the  road  fi-om  hence  to  Ken- 
tucky, than  in  meditating  this  very  subject,  and  preparing  some- 
thing yourself,  than  whom  nobody  will  do  it  better  ?' 

This  letter  makes  it  highly  probable,  that  Wilson  Gary  Nich- 
olas wrote  the  Kentucky  resolution  of  1799,  if  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  suppose  that  it  came  from  Virginia ;  it  makes  it 
highly  improbable  that  Mr.  Jefferson  wrote  that  resolution; 
and  consequently,  till  proof  or  stronger  presumption  to  the  con- 
trary is  produced,  there  is  no  ground  for  quoting  the  Kentucky 
resolutions,  drafted  by  Mr.  Jefferson,  as  authority  for  the  term 
<  nullification.' 

But  to  leave  the  term  and  go  to  the  thing,  we  cannot  but  ex- 
press our  surprise,  that  this  resolution  of  Kentucky  in  1799, 
should  be  thought  to  hold  out  a  warrant,  for  the  new  South  Caro- 

*  Mr.  Jefferson  means  acquiescence  in  the  objections  of  the  other 
States  to  the  Kentucky  resolutions  of  17964 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  JVtiUify  an  Act  of  Congress.  605 

lina  doctrine  of  a  right  to  suspend  or  annul  the  action  of  a  law  of 
the  General  Government.  The  resolution  is  limited  in  terms  to 
a  protest,  and  concludes  in  that  alone,  and  in  the  following 
words : 

'  That  though  this  Commonwealth,  as  a  party  to  the  Federal 
compact,  will  bow  to  the  laws  of  the  Union,  yet  it  does  at  the 
same  time  declare,  that  it  will  not  now,  nor  ever  hereafter,  cease 
to  oppose,  in  a  constitutional  manner,  every  attempt,  from  what 
quarter  soever  offered  to  violate  that  compact ;  and  finally,  in  or- 
der that  no  pretexts  or  arguments  may  be  drawn  from  a  sup- 
posed acquiescence,  on  the  part  of  this  commonwealth  in  the 
constitutionality  of  those  laws,  and  be  thereby  used  as  precedents 
for  similar  future  violations  of  the  Federal  compact,  this  Com- 
monwealth does  now  enter  against  them  its  solemn  protest.* 

This  South  Carolina  has  done  two  years  since  against  the 
tariff  laws,  (having  dropped,  from  her  protest,  we  know  not 
why,  the  Colonization  Society  and  Internal  Improvements  in 
the  list  of  grievances ;)  and  has  thus  exhausted  the  Kentucky 

J  precedent.  After  having  thus  gone  over  the  ground  of  these 
amous  resolutions,  we  again  repeat,  that  they  furnish  no  war- 
rant for  any  course  between  the  ordinary  constitutional  courses 
enumerated,  and  revolution  or  separation  from  the  Union ; 
and  Mr.  Jefferson  agreed,  on  Mr.  Madison's  suggestion,  to 
withdraw  even  a  vague  reservation  of  a  future  right  to  do 
somethings  because  separation  should  only  be  resorted  to  as 
the  remedy  of  extreme  and  often  repeated  cases  of  violation 
of  the  compact. 

Before  we  quite  leave  this  topic,  we  would  observe,  that,  in 
the  debate  in  the  Virginia  Assembly  by  which  these  resolutions 
were  adopted,  all  idea  of  force,  or  of  proceeding  in  an  unconsti- 
tutional manner,  was  expressly  disclaimed,  and  by  no  one  more 
distinctly  than  by  Mr.  Taylor,  of  Caroline,  the  mover  of  the 
resolutions.  Extracts  from  the  debate  showing  this,  may  be 
found  in  Mr.  Johnston's  speech,  page  16 ;  they  are  here  of  ne- 
cessity omitted. 

We  have  already  said,  that  we  believe  Kentucky  and  Vur- 
ginia  stood  alone  in  1798  and  1799,  in  the  matter  of  these 
resolutions.  It  is  a  period  to  which  our  personal  recollections 
do  not  extend,  but  we  speak  in  the  absence  of  all  evidence 
that  any  other  State  co-operated  with  them.  Mr.  Mc  Duffie, 
in  his  speech  last  winter,  observed,  that  *  Pennsylvania 
adopted  similar  resolutions  at  a  subsequent  period,'  remarking. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


506  The  RigJU  of  a  State  [Oct- 

m  the  same  time,  we  believe,  that  this  was  a  fact  not  generally 
Igiowo.  If  any  thing  else  is  alluded  to,  than  the  Pennsylvania 
resolutions  in  Olmstead's  case,  we  are  unacquainted  with  it. 
That  case  is  now  of  general  notoriety,  and  its  bearings  on  this 
subject  are  so  important,  that  it  ought  not  to  be  omitted  here. 

Sefore  quoting  it,  we  would  observe,  that  one  great  point  in 
the  present  controversy,  as  in  that  of  1798  and  1799,  is  the 
constitutional  competence  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States  to  decide  all  questions  of  law  or  equity,  arising  under 
the  Constitution  and  laws  of  the  United  States.  It  is  con- 
tended, on  the  one  hand,  that  the  Supreme  Court  is  the  tribu- 
nal provided  by  the  compact  to  settle  the  constitutionality  of 
laws.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  maintained,  that  the  province 
of  the  Supreme  Court  is  confined  to  judicial  questions,  in  the 
ordinary  acceptation  of  that  term,  and  does  not  apply  to  mat- 
ters connected  with  the  sovereignty  of  the  States ;  and  that  if 
it  did,  the  General  Government  would  be  made  the  judge  of 
its  own  powers. 

We  propose  presently  to  say  a  few  words  on  this  argument  (in 
which  we  thmk  a  fallacy,  fatal  to  the  whole  doctrine,  is  con- 
cealed) ;  but  we  will  observe  here,  that,  though  we  admitted  in 
its  amplest  form,  all  that  the  Virginia  doctrine  of  1798  and  the 
South  Carolina  doctrine  of  1838  contends  for,  relative  to  the 
Supreme  Court,  it  would  in  no  degree  strengthen  the  nulli- 
fying doctrine.  The  Virginia  resolutions  deny,  that  the  Su- 
preme Court  is  the  sole  tribunal  competent  to  decide  ques- 
tions, touching  breaches  of  the  compact,  and  claim  that  the 
States  must  decide  for  themselves.  But  what  then?  A 
State  having  decided  that  a  law  of  Congress  is  unconstitutional, 
has  a  right,  according  to  the  Virginia  resolutions,  to  protest 
against  it,  to  demand  of  Congress  to  rescind  it,  to  call  on  the 
sister  States  to  concur  in  these  measures,  to  endeavor  to  pro- 
cure a  convention,  and  amend  the  Constitution,  and  to  instruct  its 
United  States'  Senators  to  endeavor  to  procure  an  amendment. 
And  if  redress  is  not  obtained,  what  then  ?  Then  on  the  Virginia 
doctrine  comes  separation^  that  is,  revolution  and  civil  war, 
if  the  other  States  please.  This,  we  say,  is  the  Virginia  doc- 
trine of  1798  and  1799.  The  South  Carolina  doctrine  is, 
that  the  State  legislatures  are  rightfully  judges  of  the  constitu- 
tionality of  laws  of  the  United  States;  and  that  when  one 
State  judges  a  law  to  be  unconstitutional  and  nullifies  it,  its 
operation  is  suspended  till  Congress  has  procured  a  ratifica- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  NvUify  an  Ad  of  Congress.  507 

tioQ  of  it,  by  an  amendment  of  the  Constitution  ;  and  that  tte 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  is  not  competent  to  judge 
of  questions  involving  State  sovereignty. 

We  proceed  now  to  Olmstead's  case,  a  great  and  instructive 
one.  This  was  a  case  running  back  historically  to  the  year 
1775.  The  history  is  too  long  to  be  here  repeated  ;*  it  is 
sufficient  to  say,  that  in  1803,  the  legislature  of  Pennsylvania 
passed  a  special  act,  to  protect  certain  persons  against  a  judg- 
ment of  the  Circuit  Court  of  Pennsylvania,  in  consequence  of 
which  and  to  avoid  collision,  the  proceedings  of  that  court 
were  stayed.  .  On  the  application  of  the  parties  interested,  a 
mandamus  nisi  was  issued  to  Judge  Peters,  by  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States,  returnable  at  the  next  term.  The 
cause  shown  by  Judge  Peters  was  the  act  of  Pennsylvania,  of 
1803,  directing  the  Governor  to  use  such  means  as  he  might 
think  necessary,  for  the  protection  of  *  the  just  rights  of  die 
State,'  and  also  to  protect  the  persons  and  property  of  the  said 
executrixes  of  David  Rittenhouse,  deceased,  against  any 
process  whatever,  issued  out  of  any  federal  court,  in  conse- 
quence of  their  obedience  to  the  requisition  of  said  act.'  After 
a  masterly  review  of  the  case,  the  Chief  Justice  decreed  a 
peremptory  mandamus.  This  decision  of  the  court  was  com- 
municated by  Governor  Snyder  to  the  legislature ;  and  his 
message  was  referred  to  a  committee  of  the  Senate  of  Penn- 
sylvania, which,  after  a  historical  deduction  of  the  case,  re- 
ported the  following  resolutions,  which  were  adopted.  An  at- 
tempt was  made  by  the  Governor  to  enforce  the  State  act,  by 
calling  out  the  militia,  but  it  proved  abortive,  and  the  process 
of  the  Circuit  Court  took  effect. 

'  Resolved  by  the  Senate  and  House  of  Representatives  of  the 
Commonwealth  of  Pennsylvania,  &c.  that  as  a  member  of  the 
Federal  Union,  the  legislature  of  Pennsylvania  acknowledges 
the  supremacy,  and  will  cheerfully  submit  to  the  authority  of  the 
General  Government,  as  far  as  that  authority  is  delegated  by  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States.  But  whilst  they  yield  to  this 
authority,  when  exercised  within  constitutional  limits,  they  trust 
they  will  not  be  considered  as  acting  hostile  to  the  General  Gov- 
ernment, when,  as  guardians  of  the  State  rights,  they  cannot 

*  It  may  be  seen  in  the  *  Whole  Proceedings  in  the  Case  of  01m- 
stead  and  others  v^.  Rittenhouse's  Executrices,  by  R.  Peters,  Jun.  Phil- 
adelphia, 1809,'  and  in  5  Cranch,  115. 


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508  3%e  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

permit  an  infringement  of  those  rights  by  an  unconstitutional 
exercise  of  power  in  the  United  States  courts. 

'  Resolved,  that  in  a  Government  like  that  of  the  United 
States,  where  there  are  powers  granted  to  the  General  Govern- 
ment, and  rights  reserved  to  the  States,  it  is  impossible,  from 
the  imperfection  of  language,  so  to  define  the  limits  of  each, 
that  difficulties  should  not  sometimes  arise,  from  the  coUision  of 
powers  ;  and  it  is  to  be  lamented,  that  no  provision  is  made  in 
the  Constitution,  for  determining  disputes  between  the  General 
and  State  Governments,  by  an  impartial  tribunal,  when  such 
cases  occur. 

'  Resolved,  that  from  the  construction  the  United  States 
courts  give  to  their  powers,  the  harmony  of  the  States,  if  they 
resist  encroachments  on  their  rights,  will  frequently  be  inter- 
rupted ;  and  if  to  prevent  this  evil,  they  should,  on  all  occasions, 
yield  to  stretches  of  power,  the  reserved  rights  of  the  States  will 
depend  on  the  arbitrary  power  of  the  courts. 

*  Resolved,  that  should  the  independence  of  the  States,  as  se- 
cured by  the  Constitution  be  destroyed,  the  liberties  of  the  peo- 
ple, in  so  extensive  a  country,  cannot  long  survive.  To  suffer 
the  United  States  courts  to  decide  on  State  rights,  will  from  a 
bias  in  favor  of  powqr,  necessarily  destroy  the  federal  part  of 
our  Government ;  and  whenever  the  Government  of  the  United 
States  becomes  consolidated,  we  may  learn  from  the  history  of 
other  nations  what  will  be  the  event. 

*  To  prevent  the  balance  between  the  General  and  State  Gov- 
ernments from  being  destroyed,  and  the  harmony  of  the  States 
from  being  interrupted, 

'  Resolved,  that  our  Senators  in  Congress  be  instructed,  and 
our  Representatives  requested,  to  use  their  influence  to  procure 
an  amendment  to  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  that  an 
impartial  tribunal  may  be  established,  to  determine  disputes  be- 
tween the  General  and  State  Governments ;  and  that  they  be 
further  instructed  to  use  their  endeavors,  that  in  the  meanwhile 
such  arrangements  may  be  made,  between  the  Government  of 
the  Union  and  of  this  State  as  will  put  an  end  to  existing  diffi- 
culties. 

'Resolved,  that  the  Governor  be  requested  to  transmit  a  copy 
of  these  resolutions,  together  with  the  foregoing  statement,  to 
the  Executive  of  the  United  States,  to  be  laid  before  Congress, 
at  their  next  session.  And  that  he  be  authorised  and  directed 
to  correspond  with  the  President  on  the  subject  in  controversy, 
and  to  agree  to  such  arrangements,  as  it  may  be  in  the  power  of 
the  Executive  to  make,  or  that  Congress  may  make,  either  by 
the  appointment  of  Commissioners  or  otherwise,  for  settling  the 
difficulties  between  the  two  governments. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  NvU^  an  Act  of  Congress.  600 

'  Resolved,  that  the  GrOTernor  be  also  requested  to  transmit  a 
copy  to  the  Executives  of  the  several  States  in  the  Union,  with  a 
request  that  they  may  be  laid  before  their  respective  Legislatures.' 

These  resolutions  were  approved  by  Governor  Snyder  on  the 
3d  of  April,  1S09,  and  sent  in  the  usual  manner,  to  the  several 
States  of  the  Union.  We  have  before  us,  in  the  legislative 
journals  of  Pennsylvania,  the  responses  of  New  Hampshire, 
Vermont,  North  Carolina,  Virginia,  Maryland,  Georgia,  Ten- 
nessee, Kentucky,  New  Jersey,  all  in  opposition  to  the  pro- 
posed amendment,  and  no  one  in  favor  of  it.  The  doings  of 
Virginia  are  too  important  to  be  omitted,  and  are  as  follows. 
We  quote  them  from  Note  3,  to  Mr.  'Webster's  speech. 

'  The  following  resolutions  of  the  Legislature  of  Virginia  bear 
0O  pertinently  and  so  strongly  on  this  point  of  the  debate,  that 
they  are  thought  worthy  of  being  inserted  in  a  note,  especially 
as  other  resolutions  of  the  same  body  are  referred  to  in  the  dis- 
cussion. It  will  be  observed,  that  these  resolutions  were  unani- 
mously adopted  in  each  House. 

Virginia  Legislature. 

*  Extract  from  the  Message  of  Governor  Tyler  of  Virginia, 
December  4,  1809. 

^  ''  A  proposition  from  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  is  herewith 
submitted,  with  Governor  Snyder's  letter  accompanying  the 
same,  in  which  is  suggested  the  propriety  of  amending  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States,  so  as  to  prevent  collision  between 
the  Government  of  the  Union  and  the  State  Governments."   . 

House  of  Delegates. 
Friday,  December  15,  1609. 

*  On  motion,  ordered,  that  so  much  of  the  Governor's  commu- 
nication as  relates  to  the  communication  from  the  Governor  of 
Pennsylvania,  on  the  subject  of  an  amendment  proposed  by  the 
Legislature  of  that  State  to  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States, 
be  referred  to  Messrs.  Peyton,  Otey,  Cabell,  Walker,  Madison, 
Holt,  Newton,  Parker,  Stevenson,  Randolph  (of  Amelia), 
Cocke,  Wyatt  and  Ritchie.— Jiwima/,  p.  25. 

Thursdat/,  January  11,  1810. 

*  Mr.  Peyton,  from  the  committee  to  whom  was  referred  that 
part  of  the  Governor's  communication,  which  relates  to  the 
amendment  proposed  by  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  to  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States,  made  the  following  Report : 

'  The  committee  to  whom  was  referred  the  communication  of 
the  Governor  of  Pennsylvania,  covering  certain  resolutions  of 
VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  69.  65 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


SIO  The  Right  ^  a  Siate  [Oct. 

the  LegidaUire  of  thai  State,  propceii^  aa  amendment  of  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  by  the  appointment  of  an 
impartial  tribunal  to  decide  disputes  between  the  States  and  the 
Federal  Judiciary,  have  had  the  same  under  their  consideration, 
and  are  of  opinion  that  a  tribunal  is  already  provided  by  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  to  wit,  the  Supreme  Court, 
more  eminently  qualified  from  their  habits  and  duties,  from  the 
mode  of  their  selection,  and  from  the  tenure  of  their  offices,  to 
decide  the  disputes  aforesaid  in  an  enlightened  and  impartial 
manner,  than  any  other  tribunal  which  coiidd  be  created. 

'The  members  of  the  Supreme  Court  are  selected  from  those 
in  the  United  States,  who  are  most  celebrated  for  virtue  and 
legal  learning,  not  at  the  will  of  a  single  individual,  but  by  the 
concurrent  wishes  of  the  President  and  Senate  of  the  United 
States  :  they  will  therefore  have  no  local  prejudices  and  partiali- 
ties. The  duties  they  have  to  perform  lead  them  necessarily  to 
the  most  enlarged  and  accurate  acquaintance  with  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  Federal  and  State  courts  together,  and  with  the  admirable 
symmetry  of  our  Government.  The  tenure  of  their  offices  ena- 
bles them  to  pronounce  the  sound  and  correct  opinions  they  may 
have  formed,  without  fear,  favor,  or  partiality. 

'  The  amendment  to  the  Constitution  proposed  by  Pennsylva- 
nia seems  to  be  founded  upon  the  idea,  that  the  Federal  Judici- 
ary will,  from  a  lust  of  power,  enlarge  their  jurisdiction  to  the 
total  annihilation  of  the  jurisdiction  of  the  State  courts  ;  that 
they  will  exercise  their  will,  instead  of  the  law  and  the  Consti- 
tution. 

*  This  argument,  if  it  proves  any  thing,  would  operate  more 
strongly  against  the  tribunal  proposed  to  be  created,  which 
promised  so  little,  than  against  the  Supreme  Court,  which,  for 
the  reasons  given  before,  have  every  thing  connected  with  their 
appointment  calculated  to  ensure  confidence.  What  security 
Imve  we,  were  the  proposed  amendment  adopted,  that  this  tri- 
bunal would  not  sul^titute  their  will  and  their  pleasure,  in  place 
of  the  law?  The  Judiciary  are  the  weakest  of  the  three  de- 
partments of  Government,  and  least  dangerous  to  the  political 
rights  of  the  Constitution  ;  they  hold  neither  the  purse  nor  the 
sword  ;  and  even  to  enforce  their  own  judgments  and  decisions 
must  ultimately  depend  upon  the  executive  arm.  Should  the 
Federal  Judiciary,  however,  unmindful  of  their  weakness,  un- 
mindful of  the  duty  which  they  owe  to  themselves  and  their 
country,  become  corrupt,  and  transcend  the  limits  of  their  juris- 
diction, would  the  proposed  amendment  oppose  even  a  probaUe 
barrier  in  such  an  improbable  state  of  things  ? 

*  The  creation  of  a  tribunal,  such  as  is  proposed  by  Pennsyl- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1830.]  To  MJlify  an  Act  (f  Congress.  511 

vania,  so  far  as  we  are  able  to  form  an  idea  of  it  from  the  de- 
scription given  in  the  resolutions  of  the  Legislature  of  that  State, 
would,  in  the  opinion  of  jour  Committee,  tend  rather  to  invite 
than  to  prevent  collisions  between  the  Federal  and  State  courts^ 
It  might  also  become,  in  process  of  time,  a  serious  and  danger* 
ous  embarrassment  to  the  operations  of  the  General  Government. 

*  Resolved,  therefore,  that  the  Legislature  of  this  State  do  dis* 
approve  of  the  amendment  to  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States,  proposed  by  the  Legislature  of  Pennsylvania, 

'  Resolved  also,  that  his  Excellency  the  Governor  be  and  he  is 
hereby  requested  to  transmit  forthwith,  a  copy  of  the  foregoing 
preamble  and  resolutions,  to  each  of  the  Senators  and  Represen- 
tatives-of  this  State  in  Congress,  and  to  the  Executives  of  the  sev- 
eral States  in  the  Union,  with  a  request  that  the  same  be  laid 
before  the  Legislatures  thereof 

*  The  said  resolutions  being  read  a  second  time,  were,  on  mo- 
tion, ordered  to  be  referred  to  a  committee  of  the  whole  House 
on  the  state  of  the  Commonwealth. 

Tuesday,  January  23,  1810. 

*  The  House,  according  to  the  order  of  the  dajr,  resolved  itself 
into  a  committee  of  the  whole  House  on  the  state  of  the  Com- 
monwealth, and  after  some  time  spent  therein,  ]M[r.  Speaker  re- 
sumed the  chair,  and  Mr.  Stanard  (of  Spottsylvania),  reported, 
that  the  committee  had,  according  to  order,  had  under  consider- 
ation the  preamble  and  resolutions  of  the  select  committee  to 
whom  was  referred  that  part  of  the  Governor's  communication, 
which  relates  to  the  amendment  proposed  to  the  Constitution  of 
the  United  States,  by  the  Legislature  of  Pennsylvania,  had  gone 
through  with  the  same,  and  directed  him  to  report  them  to  the 
House  without  amendment ;  which  he  handed  in  at  the  Clerk's 
table. 

'  And  the  question  being  put  on  agreeing  to  the  said  preamble 
and  resolutions,  they  were  agreed  to  by  the  House  unanimously. 

*  Ordered,  that  the  Clerk  carry  the  said  preamble  and  resolu* 
tions  to  the  Senate  and  desire  their  concurrence. 

In  Senate. 
Wednesday,  January  24,  1810. 

*  The  preamble  and  resolutions  on  the  amendment  to  the 
Constitution  of  the  United  States,  proposed  by  the  Legislature  of 
Pennsylvania,  by  the  appointment  of  an  impartial  tribunal  to 
decide  disputes  between  the  State  and  Federd  Judiciary,  being 
also  delivered  in  and  twice  read,  on  motion,  was  ordered  to  be 
committed  to  Messrs.  Nelson,  Currie,  Campbell,  Upshur  and 
Wolfe. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


612  I^  Right  of  a  State  [Oct 

IHday^  Januaryi  96. 

*  Mr.  Nelson  reported,  from  the  committee  to  whom  was 
committed  the  preamble  and  resolutions  on  the  amendment  pro- 
posed by  the  Legislature  of  Pennsylvania,  d&c.  d&c.  that  the  comr 
mittee  had  according  to  order,  taken  the  said  preamble,  &c. 
under  their  consideration,  and  directed  him  to  report  them 
without  any  amendment. 

*  And  on  the  question  being  put  thereupon,  the  same  was  agreed 
to  unanimously.' 

Such  was  the  fate  of  the  Pennsylvania  Resolutions.  If  this 
is  the  case,  in  which  Pennsylvania  is  supposed  to  have  affirmed 
the  Kentucky  and  Virginia  doctrines  of  1798  and  1799,  it 
must  be  admitted  that  these  States,  in  1809,  made  her  but  a 
cold  return  for  her  concurrence. 

We  have  stated  above,  that  a  fallacy,  fatal  to  the  argument, 
is  concealed  in  the  proposition,  that  to  allow  the  Supreme 
Court  to  be  the  exclusive  judge  of  questions  of  constitutional- 
ity, between  the  General  Government  and  the  State  Govern- 
ments, would  be  to  make  the  General  Government,  which  is 
stated  to  be* tine  party  to  the  compact,  the  judge  of  its  own 
powers.  Mr/ Webster,  m  his  final  brief  rejoinder,  pointed 
out  the  obvious  defect  in  this  reasoning,  that,  even  admitting 
the  theory  that  the  Constitution  is  a  compact,  to  which  the 
States  are  parties,  the  General  Government  was  not  the  other 
party^  and  consequently  could  not  be  spoken  of  as  judging  of  its 
own  powers ;  but  was  the  form  of  government  created  by  the 
various  parties ;  and  the  question  of  course  is,  what  is  the 
tribunal  provided  by  this  compact,  under  the  form  of  govern- 
ment established  by  it,  to  settle  controversies  ?  Supposing  this 
to  be  the  question,  and  waiving  the  inaccuracy  of  speaking  of 
the  General  Government  as  one  party,  there  appears  to  us  an 
obvious  fallacy  in  the  argument.  The  answer  to  this  question 
is,  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States  is  thfa  tribunal, 
created  by  the  people  of  the  United  States,  or,  if  you  please, 
by  the  States,  to  settle  disputed  points.  The  Supreme  Court 
is  not  a  tribunal  created  by  the  General  Government;  but 
witli  the  other  branches  of  the  General  Government,  it  is  itself 
the  creature  (as  we  say)  of  the  people,  or  (as  South  Carolina 
says)  of  the  States.  When  therefore  die  Supreme  Court  de- 
cides a  question,  it  is  the  people  or  the  States  (whichever  you 
please),  deciding  a  question,  through  the  organs,  which  the 
people,  or  the  States,  have  constituted.     There  is  therefore 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1880.]  To  JSTuUify  an  Act  of  Congress.  513 

not  the  shadow  of  truth  in  the  proposition,  that  to  make  the 
Supreme  Court  a  judge  in  controversies  between  a  State  and 
Congress  is  to  make  the  General  Government  judge  of  the  ex- 
tent of  its  own  powers. 

The  South  Carolina  doctrine,  denying  that  the  Supreme 
Court  is  the  judge,  in  constitutional  controversies,  maintains  that 
each  State  must  judge  for  itself;  and  that  it  is  the  right  of 
each  State  to  suspend  the  action  of  any  law,  which  it  deems 
unconstllutional,  till  two  thirds  of  the  other  States  have  con-, 
firmed  it.  It  is  said,  to  be  sure,  that  it  must  be  a  case  of  vio- 
lation of  the  Constitution,  deliberate,  palpable,  and  dangerous ; 
but  as  the  State  is  also  the  sole  judge  of  these  conditions,  the 
qualification,  as  observed  by  Mr.  Webster,  comes  to  nothing. 

It  is  claimed,  too,  expressly,  that  this  is  a  constitutional  right 
reserved  to  tlie  States,  and  indeed  necessarily  belonging  to  an 
independent  State,  entering  into  a  federal  compact. 

It  is  an  obvious  objection,  then,  first,  to  such  a  doctrine,  that; 
this  great  organic  function,  transcending  all  the  constitutional 
powers  of  the  Government,  is  not  named  in  the  Consdtution. 
It  would  seem  that  so  tremendous  a  power,  clothing  Delaware, 
Rhode  Island,  or  Illinois,  with  a  constitutional  right  to  suspend 
the  operation  of  a  law,  which  has  received  the  sanction  of  each 
House  of  Congress,  of  the  Executive,  and  of  the  Supreme 
Court,  ought  to  be  expressly  named  in  the  Constitution.  That 
Constitution,  (to  which  South  Carolina,  either  as  a  State  or  as 
a  portion  of  the  American  people,  is  a  party,)  has  formally  pro- 
vided, that '  this  Constitution  and  the  laws  of  the  United  States, 
which  shall  be  made  in  pursuance  thereof;  and  all  treaties 
made  or  which  shall  be  made,  under  the  authority  of  thq 
United  States,  shall  be  the  supreme  law  of  the  land  ;  and  tlie 
judges,  in  every  State,  shall  be  bound  tliereby,  any  thing  in 
the  Constitution  or  laws  of  any  State  to  the  contrary,  notwith- 
standing.' Here,  however.  South  Carolina  says  there  is  im- 
plied this  proviso,  '  Provided^  however,  that  whenever  any 
State  shall  deem  any  law  unconstitutional,  the  same  shall  be 
held  and  taken  to  be  unconstitutional,  null,  void,  and  of  no  ef- 
fect, until  such  time  as  three  fourths  of  the  States  shall  have 
amended  the  Constitution,  in  such  manner,  as  that  the  afore- 
said law  shall  be  constitutional.' 

This  proviso,  it  is  plain,  is,  in  a  few  lines,  a  new  form  of 
Government,  the  incongruity  of  which,  in  the  mere  statement, 
is  so  manifest,  that  we  fear  we  shall  scarcely  be  deemed  seri- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


614  ne  RigKt  of  a  State  [Oct. 

» 

ous  in  arguing  upon  it.  But  it  is  a  doctrine  which  a  great,  en- 
fightened,  polished,  patriotic  State,  is  now  convulsed  to  up- 
hold. 

We  scarce  know  where  to  begin  with  the  diflSculties  that 
surround  it.  It  comes  from  politicians  who  think  themselves 
the  enemies  of  implied  powers.  Let  any  gentleman,  who  is 
disposed  to  favor  this  doctrine,  put  it  mto  words  to  suit  him- 
self, and  then  point  out,  in  the  wildest  visions  of  latitudinarian 
construction,  an  implied  power,  so  remote  from  every  granted 
or  specified  power,  as  that  which  would  clothe  every  State 
with  a  standing  right  to  suspend  the  operation  of  any  and  every 
law,  till  two  thirds  of  the  States  had  re-enacted  it. 

But  it  is  said,  this  is  a  reserved  rieht.  Mr.  Hayne,  in  his 
second  speech,  thus  expresses  himself : 

*  But  I  go  farther,  and  contend,  that  the  power  in  question 
may  be  fairly  considered  as  reserved  to  the -States  by  that  clause 
of  the  Constitution,  before  referred  to,  which  provides,  "  that  all 
powers  not  delegated  to  the  United  States,  are  reserved  to  the 
States  respectively,  or  the  people."  No  doubt  can  exist,  that  be- 
fore the  States  entered  into  the  compact,  they  possessed  the  right, 
to  the  fullest  extent,  of  determining  the  limits  of  their  own 
powers, — ^it  is  incident  to  all  sovereignty.  Now  have  they  given 
away  that  right,  or  agreed  to  limit  or  restrict  it  in  any  respect  ? 
Assuredly  not.  They  have  agreed  that  certain  specific  powers 
shall  be  exercised  by  the  General  Government ;  but  the  moment 
that  Government  steps  beyond  the  limits  of  its  charter,  the  right 
of  the  States  "  to  interpose  for  arresting  the  progress  of  the  evil, 
and  for  maintaining,  within  their  respective  limits,  the  authori- 
ties, rights,  and  liberties,  appertaining  to  them,"  is  as  full  and 
complete  as  it  was  before  the  Constitution  was  formed.  It  was 
plenary  then,  and  having  never  been  surrendered,  must  be  ple- 
nary now,' 

And  immediately  on  this  assertion  of  the  reserved  right  of 
the  States,  to  judge  for  themselves  of  the  infractions  of  the 
compact,  follows  Mr.  Hayne's  indication  of  the  modus  operandi, 
as  already  quoted. 

We  are  not  quite  sure,  that  to  speak  of  a  reserved  right  to 
settle  constitutional  controversies,  is  not  a  contradiction  in 
terms.  The  States  undoubtedly  possessed  certain  rights,  be- 
fore the  Constitution  was  formed.  Those  rights,  of  course, 
had  no  reference  to  or  connexion  with  the  Constitution,  which 
was  not  in  existence.  There  could  be  no  rights  of  the  States, 
touching  constitutional  functions,  and  the  order  of  enacting 
and  repealing  laws,  till  the  Constitution  was  created. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1880.]  To  JVWfc/y  an  Act  of  Congress.  616 

If  it  be  meant  that,  under  the  Confederation,  the  individual 
States  possessed  this  right,  it  b  sufficient  to  say ^  first ^  that  the 
confederation  was  abolished  by  the  Constitution,  and  no  part 
of  it  retained,  except  by  express  provision ;  and  second,  that, 
under  the  old  confederation,  no  similar  power  belonged  to  an 
individual  State.  On  the  contrary,  though  the  action  of  the 
Government  of  the  Confederacy  was  on  the  States  and  not  on 
the  citizens,  '  every  State  was  bound  to  abide  by  the  determi- 
nations of  the  United  States  in  Congress  assembled,  on  all 
questions  submitted  to  them.' 

If  it  be  finally  meant,  by  a  reserved  right,  that  it  is  a  constif 
tutional  right  of  every  sovereign  State,  (for  we  grant,  merely 
for  the  sake  of  argument,  that  the  Constitution  is  a  compact, 
to  which  the  States  alone  are  parties,  a  theory  repudiated  by 
Virginia  in  1798)  that  enters  into  a  constitutional  compact, 
to  judge  when  the  acts  of  the  functionaries  created  by  the  com- 
pact are  against  its  provisions,  the  unsoundness  of  the  propo- 
sition is  too  evident  to  be  argued.  Every  constitutional  com- 
pact of  Government  made  by  reasonable  men,  should  provide 
for  a  tribunal  to  settle  controversies.  If  this  be  omitted,  (and 
it  is  such  a  castis  omisstis  as  it  would  be  to  omit  the  reasoning 
facuhy  in  constituting  an  intellect,)  then,  we  admit,  the  parties 
reserve  to  themselves  the  right,  severally,  of  quitting  the  con- 
federacy in  case  of  disagreement ;  but  this  is  not  a  constitu- 
tional right ;  it  is  a  natural  right.  This  is  the  common  law  of 
partnerships.  Putting  the  Union,  if  you  please,  merely  on  the 
loose  footing  of  a  partnership  ;  supposing  it  to  be  the  slightest 
connexion  in  Which  bodies  of  men  could  live  or  act  together ; 
no  one  ever  heard  that  any  single  partner  could  suspend  the 
action  of  all  the  rest,  till  two  thirds  had  consented  to  a  modifi- 
cation or  explanation  of  the  articles.  The  utmost  he  can 
claim,  is  a  right  to  quit  the  firm.  The  utmost  that  South 
Carolina  can  claim,  is  a  right  to  quit  the  Union.  It  is  the  re- 
served right  of  separation  ;  and  all  attempts  to  point  out  a  mid- 
dle constitutional  course,  between  this  extreme  and  desperate 
right  and  that  of  ordinary  constitutional  means  of  procedure,  are 
labor  and  ingenuity  wasted.  That  a  school  of  politicians,  pro- 
fessedly hostile  to  implied  powers,  should  imply  a  power  like 
this,  goes  almost  beyond  the  limits  of  conceivable  self-contra- 
diction. 

Again,  let  us  view  it  on  the  ground  of  State  rights.  This 
new  doctrine  purports  to  come  from  the  State  Right  school. 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


616  3%6  Right  of  a  State  [Oct 

although  we  believe,  it  would  be  rather  difficult,  genealogically 
to  deduce  its  descent  from  that  class  of  politicians.  Be  this  as 
it  may,  it  seems  but  a  strange  consequence  of  the  doctrine  of 
State  rights,  that  one  State  has,  at  all  times,  a  constitutional 
right  to  nullify  the  acts  of  the  other  twenty-three.  It  has  lately 
been  publicly  proclaimed,  by  a  respectable  member  of  Con- 
gress of  the  South  Carolina  school,  not  merely  with  some  air 
of  exultation,  but  as  an  example  to  be  imitated  by  South  Car- 
olina, that  Georgia  has  nullified  the  treaties  and  the  laws  of 
Congress  inconsistent  with  her  supposed  rights.  His  words 
are; 

'  By  a  law  of  the  United  States,  the  non-intercourse  [inter- 
course] law,  the  President  was  authorised  to  prevent,  by  armed 
force,  the  intrusion  of  the  whites  upon  the  Indians.  Yet,  when 
Georgia  became  dissatisfied,  and  justly  so,  with  the  conduct  of 
the  Government,  when  she  became  assured  that  the  Indian  titles 
would  never  be  extinguished,  what  was  her  remedy  ?  She  abro- 
gated, she  nullified  the  treaty  ;  she  reverted  to  her  original  sove- 
reign right  over  her  soil ;  and  extended,  in  defiance  of  all  trea- 
ties, of  all  laws,  her  own  jurisdiction  over  all  persons  within  her 
limits.  And  what  was  the  result  ?  Disunion  ?  No  I  The  tem- 
pest did  rumble  at  a  distance,  but  those  fearless  champions  trem- 
bled not  at  its  threatenings,  and  it  passed  away.  Bloodshed? 
No !  The  crash  of  arms  was  heard — the  tocsin  of  violence  was 
sounded — but  Georgia's  patriots  were  ready  at  their  posts ;  their 
feet  were  planted  upon  her  boundary ;  and  their  firm  and  lofly 
defiance  achieved  at  once  what  their  petitions,  remonstrance,  and 
appeals,  had  for  years  attempted  in  vain.  They  triumphed! 
Here,  then,  is  a  precedent ;  here  was  nullification  ;  nullification 
of  a  treaty  of  Congress — of  a  law  of  Congress — of  the  pretended 
law  of  the  land.  This  is  a  precedent  familiar  to  all.  It  is  one 
on  which  we  may  confidently  depend.' 

Of  these  treaties  several  were  ratified  unanimously  by  the 
Senate  of  the  United  States ;  by  the  Senators  firom  Georgia 
and  South  Carolina  among  the  rest.  The  treaty  with  the 
Cherokees  of  1817  was  negotiated  by  General  Jackson  and 
the  Governor  of  Tennessee,  '  as  commissioners  plenipotentiary 
of  the  United  States  of  America.^  It  recited  the  purpose  of  the 
Cherokees,  who  remained  east  of  the  Mississippi,  ^  to  begin 
the  establishment  of  fixed  laws  and  a  regular  government.'  It 
assured  to  them  '  the  patronage  and  good  neighborhood  of  the 
United  States.'    That  treaty  was  unanimously  ratified  by  the 


Digitized  by  VjOOQIC 


.1830.]  To  JMlify  an  Act  of  Congress.  517 

sovereign  States  of  this  Union,  Mr.  Troup,  as  a  Senator  from 
Georgia,  voting,  on  behalf  of  that  State,  for  the  ratification. 
And  yet  Georgia,  a  single  sovereign  State,  has,  as  has  been^ 
correctly  said  by  Mr.  Barnwell,  nullified  this  act  of  the  other 
sovereign  States.  But  Georgia,  of  course,  possesses  no  rights 
in  this  matter  not  possessed  by  any  other  and  every  other  State. 
In  other  words,  it  is  the  right  of  any  State  to  nullify  any  treaty  or 
law  of  the  United  States,  whenever  that  State  (herself  being  the 
judge,)  shall  deem  her  sovereignty  to  be  invaded,  or  the  Con- 
stitution vidated,  or  her  reserved  rights  impaired  by  the  treaty 
or  law.  That  such  a  theory  of  Gk>vernment  should  ever  ba 
admitted  by  wise  men  is  marvellous ;  but  that  it  should  be  ad- 
mitted as  a  State  right  doctrine  is  indeed  one  of  the  things,  of 
which  we  are  ready  to  exclaim.  Credo  quia  impossibiU  est. 

We  profess  to  be  firm  and  ardent  friends  of  the  rights  of  in- 
dividual States,  and  of  the  rights  of  mdividual  men.  It  is  to 
preserve  these  rights,  that  Governments  are  established ;  and 
in  Governments  the  will  of  the  majority  is  taken  to  be  the  will 
of  the  whole,  because  the  majority  contains  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  individuals.  The  majority — as  such — ^is  entitled  to  no 
natural  preference.  The  Government  is  not  made  for  them ; 
it  is  made  for  the  individuals ;  it  is  because  the  majority  con- 
sists of  the  greatest  number  of  minorities,  so  to  say,  that  it 
ought  to  govern.  If  a  vital  measure  is  at  stake,  and  one  hun- 
dred and  one  are  for  it,  and  ninety-nine  against  it,  it  is  indeed 
an  unfortunate  circumstance,  that  on  vital  measures,  opinions 
and  interests  should  be  so  much  divided ;  and  it  is  common 
enough  to  hear  it  said,  that  it  b  hard,  that  such  measures 
should  be  carried  by  slender  majorities.  But  it  is  surely  hard, 
that  they  should  be  carried  by  no  majority  at  all ;  that  is,  that 
they  should  be  decided  against  the  majority.  It  is  hard  that 
one  hundred  and  one  should  carry  a  measure  against  ninety- 
nine  ;  but  it  is  surely  harder  that  ninety-nine  should  carry  it 
against  one  hundred  and  one.  The  rights  therefore  of  the  in- 
dividual, in  the  long  succession  of  years,  and  in  the  infinite 
variety  and  crossing  of  questions,  are  best  secured  by  the 
maxim,  that  the  majority  shall  govern.  He  can  never  then  be 
injured  or  successfully  opposed  by  less  than  one  half;  but  give 
to  any  less  number  than  a  majority  the  right  to  decide  ques- 
tions, and  each  individual  is  liable  to  be  successfully  opposed ; 
by  a  third,  a  quarter,  or  a  single  individual,  as  the  case  may 
•  be,  . 

VOL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  66 


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518  The  Right  a/  a  &0ie  [Oct. 

So  of  Stales,  adiiig  as  States  in  a  confederacjr.  Nothk^ 
can  be  plainer  than  that  all  provisioos,  requiring  any  thing 
more  than  a  majori^,  are  so  many  encroachments  on  the  rights 
<rf  individual  States.  This  is  unquestionablj  a  defect  in  the 
Federal  CoDStttution.  Two  thirds  of  die  Senalnrs  must  con- 
•oyr  to  ratify  a  trea^.  This  is  saying  in  effect,  that  die  chances 
are  nearly  as  two  to  one,  that  every  treaty  ought  to  be  rejected. 
Is  there  any  foundation,  in  political  philosophy,  for  such  a  no- 
tion ?  A  treaty  is  negotiated ;  diere  are  forty-eight  Senators ; 
ihhrtyKNae  are  for  it;  seventeen  against  it;  and  it  canootbe 
ratified.  This  is  very  favorable  to  the  States  represented  fay 
the  seventeen  ;  but  how  is  it  to  the  States  represented  by  the 
thirty-one  ?  Tliis,  however,  is  the  Consti&ition ;  it  is  agreed 
to ;  and  whether  abstracdy  expedient,  matters  noA  now. 

But  then  comes  the  nullifying  doctrine  and  declares  the 
ri^t  not  of  one  third  of  the  States  to  prevent  two  thirds  from 
making  a  trea^,  but  of  a  single  State  to  annul  a  treaty,  which 
all  the  other  States  have  made«  And  this  is  called  State  rights 
doctrine !  It  ought  to  be  called  the  doctrine,  whereby  the 
greatest  possible  mimber  of  sovereign  States  may  in  the  largiest 
number  of  cases  be  prevented  from  exercismg  their  rights,  by 
the  smallest  assignable  qiinority. 

These  are  not  cases  of  extreme  hypothesis,  they  are  cod- 
ceivable,  nay  they  are  historical  cases,  cases  that  may  happen, 
or  cases  that  have  happened.  Cieorgia,  Alabama,  and  Mississippi 
:have  nullified  the  intercourse  law  whidi  is  nearly  coeval  with  the 
Government,  and  about  fifty  treaties.  It  is  admitted ;  it  is  boasted 
of,  and  held  up  as  a  precedent  to  be  depended  on.  Suppose 
Louisiana  shoiUd  hold  with  some  very  enunent  politicians,  that 
dae  Florida  treaty  gave  away  part  of  her  ten-itory.  That  treaty 
was  unanimously  ratified.  May  Louisiana  nullify  it,  and  ex- 
tend her  jurisdiction  over  Texas?  Yes,  says  die  nuBifyifig 
school,  and  cheers  her  on  to  do  it«  But  this  is  war  against 
Mexico ;  and  when  Louisiana  is  at  war  with  Mexico,  what  are 
the  United  States  doing  ?  Are  diey  at  peace  or  at  war  ?  If  at 
war,  are  they  at  war  with  Mexico,  and  with  Mexico's  ally. 
Great  Britain ;  whose  Minister  has  lately  told  us,  we  shail  not 
buy  "Texas,  £ir  less,  we  suppose,  ^  extend  our  jurisdiction  over 
it,'  without  buying  it  ? — ^Are  we  at  a  war,  too,  declared  by  oae 
State ,?  That  is  against  the  letter  of  the  Constitution. 

Another  case.  The  last  convention  with  Gveat  Britain  sub- 
mits to  arbitration  a  part  of  the  State  of  Mame.    This  conven- 


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18Sa]  To  JSTuU^  an  Act  of  Congress.  519 

tkui  was,  also,  we  bdieve,  uBanimously  ratified  by  the  Senate. 
Suppose  the  umpire,  the  King  of  the  Netherlands,  should  de- 
cide that  the  disputed  territory  (being  nearly  as  krge  as  Massa- 
chusetts,) does  not  belong  to  Maine  and  Massachusetts,  but 
belongs  to  New  Brunswick.  Maine  and  Massachusetts  fi^ow* 
ing  the  (Georgia  precedent,  and  borne  out  by  the  Carolina  doc- 
trine, decree  a  nullifk^ation  of  the  treaty.  What  says  Great 
Britain  to  this  ?  First,  she  would  tell  you,  that  Maine  and  Massar 
chusetts  are  no  parties  to  the  treaty,  and  that  she  looks  to  you, 
the  United  States,  to  see  that  it  is  observed  in  good  faith. 
Next,  she  would  say,  if  you  do  not  give  us  the  land  in  fulfil- 
ment of  the  treaty,  we  will  take  it  ourselves.  The  good  peo- 
ple of  Maine  and  Massachusetts  would  bid  them  ^  come  and 
tn^,'  and  there  again  we  have  war  foreign  or  civil.  If  the 
Uxuted  States  support  Maine  in  breaking  their  own  treaty,  it  is 
foreign  war ;  if  the  United  States  fulfil  their  treaty,  it  is  civil 
war  with  Maine. 

But  to  return  to  the  nullifying  of  laws,  leaving  treaties  aside. 
We  greatly  fear  that  our  brethren  in  Soutli  Carolina  have  con- 
templated the  doctrine,  too  much  in  its  application  to  laws, 
which  are  disliked  by  themselves,  and  that  they  have  not 
viewed  the  matter,  in  its  principle.  A  State,  they  say,  may 
suspend  the  operation  of  an  act  of  Congress,  which  it  deems 
unconstitutional^  till  two  thirds  of  the  States  sanction  it  by  an 
amendment.  At  the  last  session  of  Congress,  a  law  was  passed, 
providing  half  a  million  of  dollars  to  remove  the  Indians.  We 
believe  the  voice  not  of  one  State,  but  of  half  the  States  of 
the  Union  could  be  obtained,,  to  declare  that  law  unconsti- 
tutional, under  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  and  deeply  inju- 
rious to  each  State,  as  a  violation  of  the  honor  of  each  State 
pledged  by  treaty,  to  these  Indians.  Now  the  South  Carolina 
doctrine  is,  that  Massachusetts  or  Ohio  has  a  right  to  suspend 
the  operation  of  this  law  till  two  thirds  of  the  States  have  con- 
firmied  it.  Would  two  thirds  ever  confirm  it  i  Assuredly  not. 
Here  then  we  have  Georgia  nullifying  the  treaties  with  the 
Indians,  and  Ohio  nullifying  the  appropriation  acts  passed  to 
carry  into  efiSeet  the  nullification  of  the  treaties. 

Massachusetts  and  several  other  States,  in  1 807  and  1 808,  held 
the  embmrgo  to  be  unconstitutional,  and  Mr.  Ha^e  observes,  m 
bis  second  speech,  *  that  it  was  right  to  yield  it  to  honest  con- 
victions of  its  unconstitutionality,  entertained  by  so  large  a  por- 
Cioo  of  our  fellow-citizens.'    But  this  is  not  quite  enough,  much 


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520  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

as  we  honor  Mr.  Hayne's  liberality  on  this  point.  Massachu- 
setts deemed  it  unconstitutional.  Could  she  have  instandy  sus- 
pended it,  till  Congress  had  obtained  an  amendment  to  confirm 
It  ?  She  did  propose  to  the  other  States  an  amendment  of  the 
Constitution,  providing  '  that  no  law  should  be  enacted,  laying 
an  embargo,  or  prohibiting  or  suspending  commerce,  for  a 
longer  period  than  until  the  expiration  of  thirty  days  from  the 
commencement  of  the  session  of  Congress,  next  succeeding 
that  session,  in  which  such  law  should  have  been  enacted.' 
Nobody  joined  her  in  the  amendment,  out  of  New  England ; 
and  Mr.  Hayne  devotes  a  whole  paragraph  in  his  speech,  to 
show  that  the  onus  of  procuring  the  amendment  ought  to  lie 
not  with  the  single  discontented  State,  but  with  the  rest  of  the 
Union.  Massachusetts  had  then  a  right  to  suspend  the  em- 
bargo law  according  to  the  South  Carolina  doctrine,  and  com- 
pel the  other  States,  if  they  chose  to  have  it,  to  procure  an 
amendment  of  the  Constitution.  This  process  would,  at  the 
least  calculation,  have  lasted  a  year.  What  would  have  be- 
come of  the  embargo  meantime  ?  What  was  said  even  of  those, 
who  advocated  its  repeal  in  the  ordinary  course  of  legislation  ? 
The  bare  exercise  of  his  rights  as  a  citizen  and  a  member  of 
Congress,  to  procure  this  repeal,  in  conformity  with  the  instruc- 
tions of  his  constituents,  and  the  wishes  of  all  New-England, 
procured  from  Mr.  Je^rson  for  Judge  Story,  then  a  member 
of  Congress,  the  epithet  of  pseudo-republican* 

But  we  go  a  step  farther.  How  does  the  nullifying  power 
bear  on  the  question  of  a  declaration  of  war.  The  war  mea- 
sures of  1798  were  deemed  by  the  republican  party  unconsti- 
tutional. The  Alien  Law,  which  was  brought  forward  by  its 
friends  as  a  war  measure,  was  one  of  the  two  laws,  which  led  to 
the  resolutions  of  Virgmia  and  Kentucky,  and  was  denounced  as 
unconstitutional.  The  declaration  of  war,  in  1812,  was  regarded, 
by  the  federal  party,  as  unconstitutional,  in  like  manner  as  the 
tariff  is  now  held  by  Carolina  to  be  unconstitutional ;  that  is  to 
say,  a  law  within  the  forms  of  the  ConstituticMi,  but  passed  for 
unconstitutional  objects.  These  we  need  not  enumerate ;  and 
it  is  in  no  degree  necessary  to  inquire  into  the  justice  of  these 
opinions.  That  they  existed,  we  suppose,  will  not  be  de- 
nied. If  then  Massachusetts,  that  is,  the  dommant  party  in 
Massachusetts,  believed  that  the  war  was  declared  from  at- 
tachment to  France,  antipathy  to  England,  hostility  to  com- 
merce, or  an  opinion  that '  we  should  keep  our  New  England 


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1 830.]  To  NuO^  an  Act  of  Congress.  52 1 

brethren  to  quarrel  with,'  all  of  which  was  believed  by  the  ma- 
jority of  New  England  at  that  day,  and  which  all  wiHaUow  are 
motives  unknown  to  the  Constitution,  then  Massachusetts  had 
a  right,  by  the  South  Carolina  doctrine,  to  nullify  the  declara- 
tion of  war,  until  two  thirds  of  the  States  had  confirmed  it. 

Again,  the  vocabulary  of  reprehension  has  been  exhausted 
on  Massachusetts,  for  withholding  her  militia  from  the  General 
Government,  although  called  out  in  a  manner  now  acknowl- 
edged to  have  been  contrary  to  the  Constitution  of  the  United 
States  and  of  Massachusetts.  There  is  not  in  the  United 
States  of  America  a  man,  who  will  hazard  a  reputation  as  a 
statesman,  by  saying,  that  the  mode,  in  which  the  Massachu- 
setts militia  were  called  out  was  constitutional :  we  mean 
separating  the  officers  from  their  companies,  regiments  and 
brigades.  Massachusetts  did  undertake  to  nullify  the  law  creat- 
ing that  draft.  And  what  has  been  the  consequence  ^  The 
annihilation  of  the  political  party  that  recommended  that  meas- 
ure; reproach  and  outrage  from  their  opponents  throughout 
the  Union ;  and  the  privation  of  her  treasury,  for  nearly  twenty 
years,  of  a  half  a  million  of  dollars,  patriotically  and  faithfully 
advanced  for  the  public  service. 

Congress  establishes  a  bank  :  the  President  of  the  United 
States  thinks  its  constitutionality  well  questioned,  and  Ten- 
nessee no  doubt  agrees  with  him,  and  does  not  stand  alone. 
Any  State  may  nullify  the  charter,  till  two  thirds  of  the  States 
confirm  it.  What  would  the  Chairman  of  the  Committee  of 
Ways  and  Means  say  to  this  ?  Would  he  quote  the  Kentucky 
Resolutions  again,  to  prove  that  '  a  nullification  of  all  unau- 
thorized acts  done  under  color  of  that  instrument  is  the  rightful 
remedy.' 

It  is  plain  farther,  that  the  nullifying  power  already  mam- 
tained  to  extend  to  treaties  and  laws,  may  apply  to  every  other 
function  of  the  government ;  to  executive  and  to  judicial  acts. 
The  President  has  power  to  fill  vacancies,  which  occur  in  the 
recess  of  the  Senate.  He  may  consider  vacancies  occurring 
by  removal  as  within  the  purview  of  the  Constitution.  He 
may  remove  collectors  of  the  customs  in  the  recess,  and  appoint 
others,  to  reward  his  friends.  The  people  of  a  State  may  deem 
such  a  course  unconstitutional.  By  the  South  Carolma  doctrine, 
a  State,  so  deemmg,  may  nullify  the  commissions  of  officers  thus 
appointed ;  and  what  then  becomes  of  the  customs  ? 

Kentucky  was  much  aggrieved  at  the  decision  of  the  United 


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622  T&e  Bighi  of  a  SiaU  [Oct 

States*  court,  in  tbe  case  of  the  occupying  claimant  laws.  She 
deemed  that  decision  unconstitutiona]  in  itself,  oppressive  and 
derogatory  to  Kentucky.  Kentucky  could,  by  the  South 
Carolina  doctrine,  have  millified  that  decbion ;  and  beyond 
question,  it  struck  far  deeper  into  her  vitals,  than  all  the  alien 
and  sedition  laws,  that  could  have  been  enacted  to  the  end  of 
time.  The  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws  were  empty  Salmonean 
thunder ;  the  flash  of  smoky  torches,  and  the  trampling  of 
steeds  on  a  brazen  floor.  They  did  not  blast  a  spire  of  blue 
grass  in  the  beautiful  woodlands  of  Kentucky.  They  were, 
to  say  the  least,  as  ineflScient  as  they  were  ill-judged.  The 
alarm,  which  they  excited,  was  that  of  oppression  snuffed  at  a 
distance,  on  the  tainted  gale.  Not  so  the  opinion  of  the  Su- 
preme Court  of  the  United  States,  in  the  case  of  Green  and 
Biddle; 

^non  ille  fsces  nee  fumea  tndis 

Lumina. 

If  the  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws  were  as  ineflicient  as  they 
were  unconstitutional ;  thb  opinion  was  as  effective  as  it  was 
righteous ;  it  was  the  nan  imitabile  fidmeny  real  three-bolted 
thunder.  It  struck  at  the  legislature,  the  courts,  the  tides  of 
Kentucky ;  repealed  her  laws,  reversed  the  decisions  of  her 
judges,  and  drove  hundreds  of  her  citizens,  without  a  dollar  of 
indemnity,  from  the  homes,  which  they  had  painfully  buik  up 
in  the  wilderness.  Could  Kentucky  have  nullified  that  de- 
cidon,  the  little  finger  of  which  was  heavier  upon  her  than  the 
lobs  of  the  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws  ?  Would  Virginia  have 
looked  on  and  seen  her  nullify  them  ?  Virginia,  who  thought 
that  she  and  justice  gained  a  great  triumph  on  this  occaaon  ? 
Virginia,  whose  legislation,  whose  judiciary,  whose  grants  were 
sustained,  in  proportion  as  those  of  Kentucky  were  impugned  ? 

There  is  a  crying  evil  in  this  country,  on  the  subject  of  the 
relations  of  debtor  and  creditor.  The  ancient  Godiic  juris- 
prudence of  Great  Britam,  of  which  all  too  much  afflicts  this 
generation  and  this  country,  regarded  and  punished  mbfortune 
as  a  crime.  Our  laws  so  regard  it ;  and  inability  to  pay  his 
debts,  whether  produced  by  vice,  general  inefliciency,  acci- 
dent, or  the  hand  of  God,  is  held  in  this  Christian  communis 
to  be  equally  a  crime,  for  which  die  culprit  is  subject  to  be 
immured  in  a  jail ;  and  that  at  the  discretion  or  caprice  of  the 
creditor,  who  is  authorized  to  reduce  his  victim  to  this  penal 
bondage  to  the  end  of  his  life  :  seizing  successively  the  earn- 


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1630.]  To  NuO^  an  Act  of  Congress.  623 

fiigB  of  each  day,  in  discharge  of  an  undischargable  obligation. 
By  diiB  system  of  antiquated  cruelty  and  injustice,  called  law, 
great  individual  misery  is  wrought  m  the  land,  much  malignant 
passion  nourished,  swarms  of  the  subaltern  ministers  of  justice 
pampered,  and  a  large  and  growing  class  of  what  might  be 
industrious  and  valuable  citizens,  condemned  tp  heart-breaking 
inaction,  and  lost  to  themselves  and  the  country.  Wise  and 
philanthropic  statesmen  have  labored,  at  various  times,  to  provide 
a  partial  remedy  for  tjiis  stupendous  evil,  by  an  act  of  Congress ; 
and  among  them,  none  has  labored  mc^e  meritoriously  than 
Mr.  Hayne.  In  the  fir^  session  of  the  nineteenth  CJongress, 
Mr.  Hayne  reported  a  bankrupt  law  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States,  and  sustained  it  with  equal  ability  and  zeal.  Better 
speaking  on  such  a  subject  we  never  wish  to  hear ;  much  bet- 
ter we  never  did  hear  from  any  body,  than  we  then  heard  from 
Mr.  Ha3me.  He  did  not  succeed,  however,  m  overcoming  the 
honest  doubts  of  his  colleagues ;  and  though  he  merited,  he 
did  not  meet  with  success.  But  suppose  it  had  been  his  honor 
and  good  fortune  to  carry  the  bill  through  the  Senate,  and  it 
had  become  a  law :  while  he  was  resting  from  his  strenuous  ef- 
forts, with  the  ingenuous  flush  of  richly  deserved  and  modestly 
enjoyed  triumph  on  his  cheek  ;  while  the  benedictions  of  those 
whose  prison-doors  he  had  thrown  open  were  just  reaching  his 
ears,  and  arms  long  encumbered  with  vile  fetters,  but  now  re- 
nerved  by  him  with  honest  industry,  were  raised  to  heaven  for 
a  blessing  upon  him,  as  they  would  have  been  from  Louisiana 
to  Maine ;  suppose  that,  at  this  moment,  Vermont  had  sent 
him  an  act  declaring  the  bankrupt  law  unconstitutional,  as  many 
bold  it  to  be,  and  suspending  his  code  of  mercy  and  justice,  till 
two  thirds  of  the  States  had  confirmed  it.  What  would  he 
have  said  to  the  nullifying  doctrine  and  the  nullifying  act  ? 

We  trust  we  do  not  overstate  the  principles  which  we  would 
-enforce.  The  time  has  been,  and  that  not  ten  years  since, 
•when  every  word  we  have  uttered  would  have  been  echoed 
from  South  Carolina,  with  an  emphasis  far  beyond  its  original 
force.  In  1821,  a  series  of  essays  appeared  in  a  Georgia  pa- 
per, under  the  signature  of '  The  Trio,'  the  ostensible  object  of 
which  was  to  show,  that  the  administration  of  Mr.  Monroe 
(then  just  re-elected)  was  conducted  on  principles  altogether 
^ubverjsive  of  the  republicanism  of  1 801 .  We  have  never  seen 
these  essays,  but  their  character  is  thus  indicated,  in  the 
preface  to  a  pamphlet,  which  we  shall  presently  quote ; 


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524  'He  Right  of  a  State  [Oct 

'  The  basis,  however,  of  the  argament  in  which  The  Trio  iiH 
dolge,  is  in  contending  "  for  a  strict  and  literal  construction  of 
the  Constitution/'  and  in  affirming  an  absolute  negation  of  every 
thing  wearing  the  aspect  of  an  '*  implied  power."  This  construc- 
tion, as  their  own  reasoning  proves,  would  limit  the  sphere  of 
our  National  Charter  to  those  suicidal  efforts,  which  in  the  end 
will  have  produced  its  dissolution,  as  a  matter  of  inevitable  con- 
sequence. To  these  views,  the  "  Triumvirate"  added  the  tocsin 
of  "  State  sovereignty,"  a  note  which  has  been  sounded  in  "  the 
ancient  dominion,"  with  such  an  ill-omened  blast,  but  with  no 
variety  by  them,  to  relieve  its  dull  and  vexatious  dissonance.' 

'  It  is  against  these  doctrines,  to  support  which  the  authority 
of  the  highest  names  has  been  brought  forward,  the  most  crimi- 
nal examples  cited,  the  most  popular  prejudices  addressed,  that 
**  One  of  the  People"  has  taken  the  field.' 

The  foregoing  passage  is  from  the  preface  to  the  pamphlet 
in  which  the  essays  of  *  One  of  the  People'  are  •collected,  un- 
der the  title  of  *  National  and  State  Rights  Considered.'  These 
essays  have  been  universally  and  publicly  ascribed  to  Mr. 
Mc  Duffie.*  We  should  think  our  pages  well  filled,  by  quot- 
ing the  pamphlet  entire,  did  not  the  length  to  which  our  article 
has  run  forbid  us  from  domg  so.  We  shall  confine  ourselves 
to  one  or  two  extracts : 

'  You  assert,  that  when  any  conflict  shall  occur  between  the 
General  and  State  Governments,  as  to  the  extent  of  their  respec- 
tive powers,  "  each  partly  has  a  right  to  judge  for  itself"  I  con- 
fess I  am  at  a  loss  to  know,  how  such  a  proposition  ought  to  be 
treated.  No  climax  of  political  heresies  can  he  imagined^  in 
which  this  might  not  fairly  claim  the  most  prominent  place.  It 
resolves  the  Government  at  once  into  the  elements  of  physical 
force,  and  introduces  us  directly  into  a  scene  of  anarchy  and 
blood.  There  is  not  a  single  power  delegated  to  the  General 
Government,  which  it  would  not  be  in  the  power  of  every  State 
Government  to  destroy,  under  the  authority  of  this  licentious 
principle.  It  will  be  only  necessary  for  a  State  Legislature  to 
pass  a  law,  forbidding  that  which  the  Federal  Legislature  en- 
joins, or  enjoining  what  the  Federal  Legislature  forbids,  and  the 
work  is  accomplished.  Perhaps  you  would  require  the  State 
Judiciary  to  pronounce  the  State  law  constitutional;  I  will  illus- 
trate by  a  few  examples  : 

'Suppose  Congress  should  pass  a  law  "to  lay  and  collect 
taxes,  imposts  and  excises,"  and  that  a  State  Legislature  should 

*  See  Mr.  Grimk^'s  Speech,  before  quoted,  page  99,  and  elsewhere. 


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1830.]  To  jyuU^  dn  Act  of  Cotigrea.  625 

pass  another,  declaring  the  objects  for  which  the  revenue  was 
intended  were  unconstitutiontd,  and  therefore  prohibiting  the 
officers  of  the  General  Government,  by  severe  penalties,  from  col- 
lecting the  taxes,  duties,  imposts  and  excises.  Suppose  Congress 
should  pass  a  law  "  to  raise  an  army  "  for  a  national  war,  and  a 
State  Legislature  pass  another,  declaring  the  war  ''wicked,  unr 
righteous  and  unconstitutional,"  and  therefore  prohibiting  the 
officers  of  the  General  Government,  under  heavy  penalties,  from 
recruiting  soldiers,  within  the  limits  of  the  State.  Suppose  Con- 
gress should  pass  a  law  *'  for  the  punishment  of  counterfeiting 
the  securities  and  current  coin  of  the  United  States,"  and  a  State 
Government  should  pronounce  it  unconstitutional,  and  provide 
heavy  penalties  against  all  officers,  judicial  or  ministerial,  who 
should  attempt  to  enforce  it.  I  need  not  multiply  cases;  for  if  you 
will  duly  consider  these,  you  will  find  enough  to  satiate  your  keenest 
relish  for  anarchy  and  disorder.  In  all  the  above  cases,  you  would 
say  "  each  party  has  a  right  to  judge  for  itself,"  and  of  course  to 
enforce  its  judgment.  You  might  then  behold  a  revenue  officer 
of  the  United  States  confined  in  a  State  dungeon,  for  obeying  the 
revenue  laws  of  Congress,  &c.  And  all  this  would  unavoidably 
result,  in  giving  the  State  rulers  a  right  to  resist  the  General  Gov- 
ernment, or  in  a  civil  war  to  establish  its  legitimate  authority ; 
consequences,  either  of  which  is  incompatible  with  the  very  no- 
tion of  government.  To  suppose  that  the  General  Government 
has  a  constitutional  right  to  exercise  certain  powers,  which  must 
operate  upon  the  people  of  the  States,  and  yet  that  the  Govern- 
ment of  each  State  has  the  right  to  fix  and  determine  its  own 
relative  powers,  and  by  necessary  consequence  to  limit  the  pow- 
ers of  the  General  Government,  is  to  suppose  the  existence  of 
two  contradictory  and  inconsistent  rights.  In  all  governments, 
there  must  be  some  one  supreme  power ;  in  other  words,  every 
question  that  can  arise,  as  to  the  constitutional  extent  of  the 
powers  of  different  classes  of  functionaries,  must  be  susceptible 
of  a  legal  and  peaceable  determination,  by  some  tribunal  of  ac- 
knowledged authority,  or  force  must  be  the  inevitable  conse- 
quence.    And  where  force  begins,  government  ends. 

'  And  it  is  the  more  astonishing,  that  you  have  assumed  posi- 
tions, involving  such  tremendous  consequences,  when  we  con- 
sider that  they  are  in  direct  opposition  to  the  ''  strict  letter"  of 
the  Constitution, 'your  favorite  test  of  the  extent  of  delegated 
powers.  It  is  therein  provided  **  that  the  Constitution  and  the 
laws  of  the  United  States,  which  shall  be  made  in  pursuance 
thereof,"  **  shall  be  the  supreme  law  of  the  land,  and  the  judges 
in  every  State  shall  be  bound  thereby,  anif  thing  in  the  Constitu- 
tion or  laws  of  any  State  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,**   And 

TOL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  67 


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626  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

again,  **  the  judicial  power  [of  the  United  States]  shall  extend  to 
all  cases  in  law  and  equity,  arising  under  this  Constitution,  the 
laws  of  the  United  States,  and  treaties  made,  or  which  shall  be 
made,  under  their  authority."  Nothing  can  be  more  plain  than 
that  the  **  strict  letter"  of  the  Constitution  does  make  the  laws  of 
Congress  supreme,  enjoining  obedience  upon  the  State  function- 
aries, and  making  void  the  laws  of  a  State  if  contrary  thereto. 
And  to  give  the  provision  a  sanction  of  a  nature  peculiarly  im- 
pressive, "  the  members  of  the  several  State  Legislatures,  and  all 
executive  and  judicial  officers  both  of  the  United  States  and  of  the 
several  States  shall  be  bound  by  oath  or  affirmation  to  support 
the  Constitution  of  the  United  States. 

.  '  It  is  not  less  evident,  that  it  belongs  to  the  National  Judiciary, 
to  pronounce  upon  the  constitutionality  or  unconstitutionality  of 
tibe  laws  of  the  National  Legislature.  Its  jurisdiction  extends  to 
all  cases  rising  under  them ;  and  it  is  hard  to  conceive  how  in  any 
possible  case  a  Federal  judge  can  decide  a  case,  arising  under  a 
law,  without  pronouncing  upon  the  constitutionality  of  that  law. 
In  fact  it  would  be  vain  and  idle  to  make  the  laws  of  Congress 
supreme,  if  the  National  Judiciary  had  not  the  power  of  enforcing 
them.  For  you  can  hardly  be  ignorant,  that  a  law  is  a  dead  letter, 
without  an  organ  to  expound,  and  an  instrument  to  enforce  it.  I 
should  suppose,  therefore,  that  no  professional  man  could  hesitate 
in  saying,  that  a  forcible  opposition  to  the  judgment  of  the  Federal 
court,  founded  upon  an  act  of  Congress,  by  whatever  State  au- 
thority that  opposition  might  be  authorise,  would  be  the  very 
case,  which  the  Convention  had  in  view,  when  they  made  pro- 
vision, for  "  calling  forth  the  militia  to  execute  the  laws  of  the 
Union."  But  I  sincerely  hope,  that  your  licentious  doctrines 
will  never  have  the  effect  of  misleading  the  State  authorities  so 
far,  as  to  render  this  terrible  resort  unavoidable.  I  trust  the 
farewell  address  of  Washington,  admonishing  his  fellow  citizens 
to  "  frown  indignantly "  upon  those  who  preach  up  doctrines 
tending  to  disunion,  is  not  yet  forgotten.'    pp.  16 — 18. 

Replying  to  the  charge  of  federalism,  made  by  his  State 
right  opponents  to  the  administration  of  Mr.  Monroe,  Mr. 
Mc  Duffie  says, 

*  Presuming  upon  the  ignorance  of  the  people,  you  have 
vainly  imagined,  they  could  be  carried  away,  by  tlie  "  magic  of  a 
name."  Hence  your  continual  straining,  your  ridiculous  twist- 
ing, to  associate  with  every  measure  of  Mr.  Monroe's  adminis- 
tration the  term  federal;  a  term  which  you  suppose  will  awaken 
so  many  odious  associations,  as  to  make  the  people  forget^  that^ 
as  a  party  word,  so  far  from  applying  to  Mr.  Monroe's  adminis- 


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1630.]  To  Mdlify  an  Ad  of  Congress.  62t 

tration,  it  properly  belongs  to  its  opponents.  And  as  amon^ 
these,  you  may  claim  a  distinguished  situation,  having  preached 
pretty  much  the  same  doctrines  in  ptace,  which  former  opponents 
advocated  in  toor,  you  could  scarcely  have  deserved  more  credit, 
had  a  defence  of  the  famous  Hartford  Convention  and  an  accom- 
plishment of  their  views,  so  similar  to  your  own,  been  the  avowed 
object  of  your  labors.' 

We  have  have  referred  to  this  able  pamphlet,  because  we 
deem  the  principles,  which  it  contains,  almost  without  exception, 
sound ;  because  they  bear  directly  on  the  movements  now  mak- 
ing in  Carolina  ;  and  because  they  come  from  a  statesman  re- 
spected throughout  the  country,  but  surely  entitled  to  respect 
in  the  highest  degree  in  South  Carolina.  This  gentleman  did 
not  then  stand  alone  in  South  Carolina ;  he  was  one  of  a  party, 
comprehending  nearly  all  the  ablest  men  in  that  State.  An 
extract  from  a  Carolina  newspaper,  for  the  month  of  September, 
1821,  lies  before  us,  from  which  we  make  the  following  quota- 
tion. After  reprobating  the  conduct  of  Ohio,  in  the  case  of 
the  bank  of  the  United  States,  the  editor  of  the  paper  proceeds, 

*  It  is  under  the  influence  of  such  considerations  as  these,  that 
we  thought  the  example  of  South  Carolina  in  the  unanimous. 
support  given  by  her  Legislature,  during  the  last  session,  to  the 
principles  expressed  in  the  following  Report,  might  possibly  pro-, 
duce  some  good  at  a  crisis  that  appears  to  us  so  full  of  difficul- 
ties as  the  present.' 

Then  follows  the  Report  of 

^  The  committee  to  whom  were  referred  the  preamble  and- 
resolutions  directing  our  Senators  and  requesting  our  Repre- 
sentatives in  Congress,  to  oppose  the  proposed  alteration  in  the 
tariff,  submitted  by  the  honorable  member  from  Chesterfield.' 

This  Report,  after  setting  forth  the  general  concurrence  of 
the  Southern  and  Eastern  States  in  the  impolicy  and  inexpe- 
diency of  the  manufacturing  system,  proceeds  as  follows ; 

*  Yet  when  they  [the  conrmittee]  reflect,  that  the  necessity,  at 
that  time  universally  felt,  of  regulating  the  commerce  of  the 
country  by  more  enlarged  and  uniform  principles,  was  the  first' 
motive  that  induced  the  calling  of  a  Convention  in  1787 ;  when 
they  consider,  that,  among  the  powers  expressly  given  up  by  the. 
States,  and  vested  in  Congress,  by  the  Constitution,  is  this  very: 
one  of  enacting  all  laws  relating  to  commerce ;  above  aH,  when^ 
they  advert  to  the  ccxisequences,  likely  to  result  from  the  prac- 


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528  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct 

tice,  unfortunately  becoming  too  common,  of  arraying,  on  ques- 
tions of  national  policy,  the  States,  as  distinct  and  independent 
sovereignties,  in  opposition  to,  or  what  is  much  the  same  thing, 
with  a  view  to  exercise  a  control  over  the  General  Government, 
your  committee  feel  it  their  indispensable  duty  to  protest  against 
a  measure,  of  which  they  conceive  the  tendency  to  be  so  mis- 
chievous, and  to  recommend  to  the  House,  that  on  this,  as  on 
every  other  occasion,  where  the  common  interests  of  the  Republic 
are  in  question,  they  adhere  to  those  wise,  liberal  and  magnani- 
mous principles  by  which  this  State  has  been  hitherto  so  proudly 
distinguished.' 

We  infer  from  this  document,  taken  in  connexion  with  die 
manner  m  which  it  is  quoted  in  the  South  Carolina  paper,  that 
in  1820-1821,  on  occasion  of  a  proposed  increase  of  the  du- 
ties on  imports,  a  member  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  m 
South  Carolina,  moved  resolutions,  instructing  the  Senators 
and  requesting  the  Representatives  of  South  Carolina  in  Con- 
gress to  oppose  the  said  increase  ;  that  these  resolutions  were 
committed  to  a  select  committee,  and,  on  their  Report  wnanir 
mously  rgectedj  on  the  following  grounds ; 

1.  That  the  tariff  was  a  part  of  that  enlarged  and  uniform 
system  of  regulating  the  commerce  of  the  country,  which  led 
to  the  calling  of  the  Convention,  which  framed  the  Constitu- 
tion in  1787; 

2.  That  the  power  of  enacting  all  laws  relating  to  commerce 
was  eoopressly  given  up  by  the  States  and  vested  in  Congress ; 

3.  Thirdly,  and  cAove  allf  that  the  consequences  of  the 
practice,  which  had  become  too  common,  of  arraying  the 
States,  as  distinct  and  independent  sovereignties,  in  opposition 
to,  or  in  order  to  control  the  General  Government  on  questions 
of  national  policy,  was  mischievous  ; 

4.  That  on  occasions,  when  the  common  interests  of  the 
republic  are  concerned,  South  Carolina  should  continue  to  pur- 
sue the  wise,  liberal,  and  magnanimous  principles,  by  which  that 
State  has  hitherto  been  distinguished. 

These  principles,  we  conceive,  cover  the  whole  ground  of  the 
present  controversy.  We  quote  them,  because,  what  has  been 
the  opinion  of  South  Carolina  once,  may  be  her  opinion  again,  and 
not  with  any  purpose  of  insinuating  a  charge  of  inconsistency 
against  individuals  or  bodies  of  men.  It  must  happen  to  every 
man,  not  possessing  the  somewhat  rare  endowment  of  infallibil- 
ity, to  have  occasion,  on  great  and  difficult  points,  to  revise  his 


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1830.]  To  Mdlijy  an  Act  of  Congress.  629 

first  impressions ;  and  in  the  complicated  relations  of  national 
politics,  the  man  who  boasts,  that  he  has  never  changed  an  opin- 
ion, boasts  only  that  he  has  never  acknowledged  nor  corrected  an 
error.  In  1821,  it  would  have  been  impossible,  in  the  Legis- 
lature of  Massachusetts,  to  obtain  an  unanimous  vote,  in  con- 
currence with  a  report  like  that,  which  we  have  just  quoted, 
as  having  been  unanimously  adopted  in  South  Carolina.  Since 
that  period,  many,  who,  in  this  part  of  the  country,  opposed 
the  tariff  policy  have,  from  the  altered  state  of  circumstances, 
been  led  to  support  it.  In  doing  this,  they  have  done  only 
what  it  was  foreseen  and  foretold,  at  the  time,  must  be  done  by 
Northern  men,  and  they  have  the  sanction  of  the  highest  South 
Carolina  authority.  We  will  but  cite  the  following. — On  the 
28th  of  November,  1820,  a  memorial  was  presented  to  the 
House  of  Representatives  of  the  United  States,  from  '  sundry 
inhabitants  of  the  upper  counties  of  the  State  of  South  Caro- 
lina,' the  concluding  paragraph  of  which  is  expressed  in  the 
following  words : 

'  We  will  close  this  remonstrance,  with  one  more  view  of  this 
important  subject,  showing  the. extreme  caution  and  deliberation, 
with  which  Congress  ought  ta  act.  A  false  step  taken,  in  this 
system  of  protection  can  never  be  retraced,*  This  will  appear 
from  an  obvious  application  of  an  established  maxim  of  political 
economy.  However  high  you  may  raise  the  duties  upon  foreign 
articles,  the  effect  of  competition  will  be  to  reduce  the  profits  of 
the  manufacturer,  to  the  level  of  the  profits  of  other  kinds  of  in- 
dustry. When  a  large  manufacturing  interest,  therefore,  shall 
have  grown  up  under  the  faith  of  high  protection,  and  can  but 
barely  sustain  itself  with  the  aid  of  the  protection,  it  would  be 
absolute  ruin  of  that  great  interest,  to  withdraw  a  protecting  duty 
of  some  fifly  per  cent,  and  suddenly  reduce,  in  a  corresponding 
degree,  the  value  of  the  whole  mass  of  invested  manufacturing 
capital.  The  government  that  would  hazard  such  a  measure 
ought  to  have  a  military  force  to  suppress  insurrection.' 

Such  were  the  opinions  of  the  citizens  of  the  upper  counties 
of  South  Carolina,  on  this  subject,  at  the  close  of  1820.  Those 
of  Charleston  expressed  themselves,  at  the  same  time,  in  the 
following  manner,  in  a  memorial,  signed  by  '  Stephen  Elliott, 
chairman  of  the  citizens  of  Charleston,'  a  gentleman,  in  whose 
recent  decease  not  South  Carolina  alone,  but  the  whole  coun- 
try has  lost  one  of  its  most  distinguished  and  respectable  sons. 

*  These  words  are  italicised  in  the  original 


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630  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

'  It  is  at  the  threshold  we  mist  yet  pause.  The  steps  we  now 
take,  we  may  not  be  able  to  retrace.  The  pledges  we  now  give 
to  our  cittT^ens  we  may  not  he  able  to  recah  When  thousands, 
perhaps  millions  of  dollars  shall  have  been  invested  in  manufac- 
tures, with  the  assurance  of  public  support  and  protection,  we 
know  7tot  how  with  justice  this  system  could  he  ahandoned,  and  the 
property  vested,  under  such  assurance,  be  devoted  to  irretrieva- 
ble destruction.  Even  if  the  evils  attendant  upon  these  efforts 
should  prove,  in  every  respect,  pernicious,  and  should  press 
sorely  on  every  other  branch  of  national  industry,  we  must  go 
on.' 

It  deserves  carefully  to  be  noticed  that  at  the  very  time  these 
views  of  the  subject  were  taken  in  the  memorials  presented  to 
Congress,  the  House  of  Representatives  of  South  Carolina, 
unanimously  refused  to  adopt  resolutions  instructing  their  Rep- 
resentatives, to  oppose  the  increase  of  duties  contemplated  at 
that  time. 

We  beg  to  have  tliis  subject  impartially  and  coolly  weighed, 
in  connexion  with  the  present  discontents.  We  will  not  now 
urge,  that  the  foundation  of  the  present  manufacturing  system 
was  laid,  in  the  war  of  1812,  and  the  measures  which  preceded 
it ;  a  war  in  respect  to  which,  it  is  the  boast  of  South  Carolina, 
that  three  of  her  distinguished  citizens  were  mainly  instrumen- 
tal, in  causing  it  to  be  declared.  On  the  return  of  peace,  the 
law  of  1816  was  passed,  and  of  this  law  it  is  said  by  Mr. 
Hayne  in  his  very  able  speech  of  1824,  that  it  'may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  commencement  of  the  "  anti-commercial  sys- 
tem." '  That  law,  as  is  well  known,  was  supported  by  the  lead- 
ing South  Carolina  members.  The  citizens  of  the  upper  coun- 
ties of  South  Carolina  in  their  memorial  of  November,  1820, 
(page  7,)  remark,  that  '  the  Representatives  of  South  Carolina 
in  Congress,  have  invariably  risen  above  sectional  views,  and 
regarded  alone  the  general  interests  of  the  nation.  One  of 
those  Representatives,  in  particular,  the  present  Secretary  of 
War,  (Mr.  Calhoun,)  aiid  we  believe  another,  (Mr.  Lowndes,) 
were  decided  advocates  of  the  tariff  formed  soon  after  the' 
war,  which  gave  to  the  manufacturers  a  liberal  protection.' 
From  1816,  nothing  of  consequence  was  done  till  the  enact- 
ment of  the  law  of  1824,  and  though  this  law  is  always  enu-' 
merated  among  the  burdens  af  the  South,  it  was  so  modified, 
on  its  passage  through  the  two  Houses  of  Congress,  that  Mr. 
Hayne  was  led  to  observe*  in  a  note  to  the  speech,  which  we 


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1 830.]  To  Nullify  an  Act  of  Congress.  531 

have  just  quoted,  that  it  '  received  no  less  than  thirty-seven 
amendments  in  the  Senate,  nearly  all  of  which  tended  to  ren-' 
der  its  operation  less  oppressive,  and  to  deprive  it  of  its  pro- 
hibitory character.'  For  the  obnoxious  features  of  the  tariff  of 
1828,  the  manufacturers  are  really  not  to  blame.  They  sought, 
in  the  first  instance,  merely  a  remedy  for  that  change  of  tilings, 
which  had  arisen,  in  consequence  of  British  legislation,  in  the 
woollen  manufacture ;  and  wished  only  not  to  have  that  branch 
deprived  by  a  foreign  government,  of  the  protection  guarantied 
to  it  by  our  own.  The  bill  for  effecting  this  object  failed  in 
1827.  The  law  of  1828  was  a  law,  for  which  ihe  manufac- 
turing interest  was  not  responsible.  It  consisted  of  two  classes 
of  measures,  one  tliose,  which  purported  to  regard  the  interest 
of  the  farmers,  the  other  those,  which  were  inserted,  by  a  com- 
bmation  of  the  Southern  and  grain-growing  States,  with  the 
avowed  purpose  on  the  part  of  the  former  of  rendering  the  bill 
unpalatable  to  the  purely  manufacturing  and  commercial  part 
of  the  Union.  The  bill  of  the  last  sessbn  is  one,  which  as  it 
passed,  contained  no  feature  of  itself  objectionable  to  any  part 
of  the  community ;  and  contemporaneously  with  its  passage, 
some  of  the  obnoxious  provisions  of  the  tariff  law, — ^the  duties 
on  salt  and  molasses, — were  reduced. 

Where  then  the  occasion  of  this  unmeasured  excitement  ? 
The  only  evil  alleged  to  exist  in  South  Carolina,  is,  that  cot- 
ton has  fallen  in  price.  The  cause,  to  which  this  effect  is  as- 
cribed, is  the  tariff.  Suppose  the  tariff  repealed,  and  that  the 
demand  for  cotton  would  be  increased  to  the  extent  of  paying 
for  all  the  fabrics  which  would  be  imported,  instead  of  those 
now  manufactured.  We  say,  suppose  this,  though  it  would 
not  follow  for  three  reasons.  First,  the  cottons  of  India  would 
be  manufactured  from  the  growth  of  that  country  ;  second,  all 
that  industry  which  is  now  rendered  productive  exclusively  by 
the  tariff,  would  be  annihilated,  and  could  not  import  any  thing, 
to  be  paid  for  by  cotton,  or  any  thing  else  ;  and  third,  the  de- 
mand for  cotton  abroad  does  not  depend  on  our  demand  for 
foreign  manufactures,  but  on  the  general  demand  for  cotton 
fabrics,  which  would  not  be  proportionably  increased  by  our 
ceasing  to  manufacture.  But  waiving  all  this,  and  supposing 
that  America  would  export,  say  one  fifth  moie  of  cotton  annu- 
ally. The  effect  of  this  increased  demand  is  to  be  diffused 
over  Virginia,  North  Carolina,  South  Carolina,  Georgia,  Ten-^ 
nessee,  Alabama,  Mississippi,  Louisiana,  and  the  Territory  of 


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532  !%€  Right  of  a  State  [Oct 

Arkansas.  Soath  Carolina  would,  in  her  proportion,  feel  the 
effect  of  this  demand,  and  produce  her  share  of  the  additional 
supply.  But  the  price  of  her  cotton  would  not  be  raised  a  mill 
per  pound,  for  the  obvious  reason,  that  there  is  a  great  abun- 
dance of  good  cotton  land  in  the  nine  States  enumerated,  not 
yet  taken  up. 

Will  South  Carolina  then  dissolve  the  Union,  for  the  sake 
of  exporting  a  few  thousand  bags  more  of  cotton,  at  the  present 
price  ?  We  do  not  believe  it.  And  could  she,  in  the  coun- 
cils of  her  leading  men,  or  in  her  popular  assemblies,  be  b- 
duced  to  contemplate  the  consequences  of  carrying  out  the 
principles  she  now  proclaims,  we  are  well  convinced  she  would 
be  the  first  to  repudiate  them.  She  has  been  lavish  in  her 
condemnation  of  the  doctrines  advanced  in  thb  part  of  the 
country.  In  the  war  of  1812,  doctrines  declared  by  one  of  her 
own  leading  statesmen  in  1821,  to  be  similar  to  those  then 
advanced  by  the  State  right  politicians  of  that  day.  No  one, 
surely,  will  undertake  to  draw  a  distinction  between  the  doc- 
trines of  Virginia  and  Georgia  in  1821,  and  those  of  South 
Carolina  in  1828,  to  the  advantage  of  the  latter.  We  do  not 
know  that  in  1821  the  integrity  of  the  Union  was  threatened 
in  a  whisper.  In  1828,  ^  Disunion^  is  proposed  as  our  salva- 
tion, at  a  great  public  celebration,  sanctioned  by  Representa- 
tives and  Senators,  and  the  consequences  of  a  separation  from 
the  rest  of  the  United  States,  and  the  erection  of  Charleston 
into  a  free  port,  are  calmly  set  forth  on  the  floor  of  Congress. 
This  is  done  by  politicians,  who  entertain  and  express  the  stern- 
est disapprobation  of  the  Hartford  Convention  and  its  doings. 

We  know  it  is  said,  that  the  Hartford  Convention  was  called 
in  time  of  war  ;  that  the  movements  of  South  Carolina  are  in 
profound  peace.  A  separation  of  the  Union,  and  civil  war,  in 
a  time  of  peace !  Yes,  truly,  as  all  signs  of  rain  fail  in  a  sea- 
son of  drought.  The  sign  has  failed,  but  the  thing  signified 
comes ;  and  while  the  sky  presents  the  aspect  of  a  broad  over- 
arching mirror,  and  the  breeze  is  as  dry  as  the  dust  which  is 
driven  before  it,  the  face  of  the  heavens  in  a  moment  is 
changed ;  the  mighty  host  of  waters  comes  down  from  the 
opening  clouds ;  the  swelling  streams  burst  from  their  chan- 
nels ;  and  the  fruits  of  the  earth  and  the  labors  of  man  are 
swept  onward  m  undistinguished  rum.  Nor  does  the  lesson  of 
the  philosophic  poet  stop  here.*     In  this  midnight  of  storms, 

*  Virgil,  Georgic.  III. 


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1830.]  To  Mdlify  an  Ad  of  Congress.  633 

and  wreck  of  nature,  the  incensed  divinity  is  abroad.  He  seizes 
his  thunder  in  his  red  right  hand,  and  strikes  dread  into  the 
hearts  of  men,  throughout  the  nations. 

God  preserve  us  from  the  day,  ivhen,  to  punish  this  nation 
for  all  its  ill  desert,  though  it  were  ten  times  greater  than  our 
worst  enemy  has  painted  it,  any  member  of  the  common  fam- 
ily, in  war  or  in  peace,  shall  separate  from  the  Union.  It  has 
been  said,  that  if  this  Union  were  consolidated  into  one  Gov- 
ernment, it  would  be  the  most  corrupt  Government  ever 
known.  Perhaps.  If  it  be  broken  into  separate  independen- 
cies, it  will  present  a  scene  of  embittered  and  merciless  civil 
wars,  beyond  those  of  republican  Greece,  or  Italy  in  the  mid- 
dle ages.  For  ourselves,  though  every  factory  in  the  North 
were  one  great  machine  for  transmuting  iron  into  gold.  We 
would  rather  see  them  all  levelled  to  the  earth,  than  that  one 
State  should  be  separated  from  the  Union.  We  know,  that  to 
every  part  of  the  country  this  would  be  all,  and  more  than  all, 
that  is  wrapped  up  in  that  inauspicious  phrase,  ^  the  beginning 
of  evils.'  It  would  be  evil  in  the  beginning  and  from  the  be- 
ginning ;  and  it  would  be  misery,  cruelty,  and  havoc,  in  the 
continuance  ;  and  utter  ruin  in  the  end.  It  would  be  on  the 
grandest  scale  and  in  the  extreraest  exasperation,  a  compre- 
hensive family  quarrel,  in  which  a  thousand  natural  bonds  of 
union  would  be  so  many  causes  of  unappeasable  and  remorse- 
less hatred  and  hostility.  There  would  be  an  agonizing  strug- 
gle of  domestic  parties,  on  each  side  respectively,  with  the  at- 
tendant train  of  rapine,  assassination,  judicial  cruelty,  and  miK- 
tary  execution.  There  would  be  an  incessant  border  waf ; 
and  from  time  to  time  a  vast  array  of  warlike  forces  and  hos- 
tile inroads,  with  their  wasting,  demoralizing,  and  all-destroying 
consequences.  Close  in  the  train  would  follow  foreign  alli- 
ance and  foreign  war,  in  the  very  nature  of  their  cause,  of  in- 
definite duration.  To  suppose  that  Republican  Government 
could  be  kept  up  in  such  a  condition  of  things,  in  any  part  of 
rfie  country,  would  be  deafness  to  the  teachings  of  common 
reason  and  history.  The  act,  by  which  one  State  severs  itself 
from  this  Union,  entails  a  military  despotism  on  that  State,  and 
probably  on  every  other. 

The  auspicious  consequences  to  South  Carolina  of  separat- 
ing herself  from  the  Union,  and  establishing  her  independende, 
have  been  depicted,  even  on  the  floor  of  Congress ;  a  free 
trade  with  aH'the  world,  and  a  revenue  of  eight  millions  of  dol- 

voL.  XXXI. — NO.  69.  68 


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534  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct 

larSy  applied  to  all  the  objects  of  public  improvemeot.    But,  kj- 
iDg  aside  the  eutire  effect  of  the  passions  that  would  be  eakin* 
died,  will  the  rest  of  the  Unioo  acquiesce  in  thb  state  of  things  ? 
Will  the  other  States  permit  any  one  to  make  itself  foreign  to 
them  ?    There  is  no  provbion  in  the  Constitution  that  authorizes 
it ;  the  evils  that  would  flow  from  it  to  the  remaining  States  are 
so  enormous,  that,  on  the  ground  of  self-preservation,  thej  could 
not  permit  it.     Would  it  be  permitted  to  T^messee  to  separate 
from  the  Union,  and  thus  throw  a  foreign  sovereignty  between 
the  South-western  States  and  the  Capital  ?   Or  could  Ohio  de- 
clare herself  independent,  and  leave  Indiana  and  Illinois  insu- 
lated on  the  British  frontier  ?     Surely  not.     On  the  day  that 
the  intelligence  should  be  received,  that  South  Carolina  had  ob- 
structed the  execution  of  a  law  of  the  United  States,  the  Presi- 
dent, if  he  did  his  duty,  would  call  out  the  militia  of  North  Caro- 
lina, of  Tennessee,  and  of  Georgia,  to  enforce  it,  (as  General 
Washington  called  out  the  militia  of  New  Jersey,  Pennsylvania, 
Virginia,  and  Maryland,  in  1794 ;)  nay,  he  would  call  out  the  mi- 
litia of  South  Carolina  herself,  for  one  of  the  three  cases,  which 
the  Constitution  provides ;  and  the  example  of  Massachusetts  has 
well  taught  the  States  of  this  Union  to  beware  of  withholding 
their  militia,  when  called  out  under  an  act  of  Congress,  or  of 
undertaking  to  judge  for  themselves  whether  the  exigency  ex- 
ists.    Then  the  port  of  Charleston,  if  declared  free  by  South 
Carolina,  would  be  put  in  a  state  of  blockade  by  Congress. 
The  Columbus,  and  tiie  Independence,  and  the  Franklm,  and 
the  Brandywine,  and  the  Lexington,  would  one  by  one  take 
their  stations  on  the  edge  of  the  bar ;  and  last  of  all,  the  poor 
old   Constitution    herself,   almost    coeval  with    her   afflicted 
namesake,  would  obey  the  unwelcome  summons.     She  would 
come,   not  skimming  over  the  waves  like  the   sea-bird  that 
scarce  wets  his  bosom  on  their   snowy  crests;   not  ringing 
with  glad  shouts,  and  the  rapture   of  anticipated   triumph, 
as  when  she  ranged  like  a  mighty  monster  oi  the  deep,  be- 
neath the   castles  of  Tripoli,   striking   them   dumb   as  she 
passed ;  or  as  when  she  spread  her  broad  and  glorious  banner 
to  the  winds,  and  rushed,  like  a  strong  man  rejoicing  to  run 
a  race,   on  the  Guerriere   and  the   Java.      Her   dark  and 
weather-beaten  sides  would  loom  slowly  and  mournfully  firom 
the  deep.     Who  will  not  weep,  that  shall  see  her  sadly  display- 
ing her  beautiful  banner,  with  one  bright  star  veiled  forever, 
with  one  dear  stripe  effaced, — one  ol  the  old  thirteen,  that  was 


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1880.]  To  JivU^y  an  Act  of  Congress.  535 

embhzoned  upon  the  broad  folds,  when  they  were  first  un* 
roUed  on  the  morning  of  Independence ;  and  was  not  oblite- 
rated, when  they  were  trailed  along,  torn  and  daggled  with 
blood,  in  the  days  of  the  country's  tribulation ;  but  now,  alas, 
voluntarily  blotted  from  them  by  South  Carolma  herself?  Who 
could  support  the  sight,  when  a  squadron  of  the  United  States  of 
America  should  obey  the  stern  command  of  duty,  and  rush 
down  in  dark  and  fatal  array  on  the  old  palmetto  fort !  But  a 
worse  sight  than  this  must  be  borne.  By  the  necessity  of  the 
political  system  in  which  we  live ;  a  necessity  stronger  than 
men  and  stronger  than  parties;  whatsoever  State  shall  drop 
jfrom  this  Union,  will  fall  into  the  arms  of  England.  We 
know  that  this  would  be  a  bitter  necessity  to  a  patriotic 
State,  but  it  would  be  her  inevitable  doom.  Scarcely  will 
the  squadron  of  the  United  States  have  appeared  off  the 
waters  of  Charleston,  to  engage  reluctantly  in  a  civil  war 
with  their  brethren,  when  a  British  fleet  will  hasten  to  relieve 
the  free  port ;  and  die  Royal  George,  and  the  Sovereign,  and 
the  Majestic,  and  the  Leopard,  and  the  Shannon,  will  be  again 
arrayed  against  the  United  States,  in  alliance  with  South  Car- 
olina. Into  what  condition  will  this  plunge  the  United  States, 
or  the  disunited  State  ?  We  freely  admit,  that  it  would  plunge 
the  United  States  into  an  abyss  of  suffering.  On  South  Caro- 
lina itself,  it  would  bring  a  direr  scourge  than  foreign  or  civil 
war,  a  helium  plusquam  civile^  in  which,  in  the  most  terrific 
sense,  a  man's  ^c*  shall  he  those  of  his  own  household. 

This  is  not  the  language  of  one  who  looks  with  indifference 
at  the  burdens,  real  or  imaginary,  of  any  part  of  the  Union. 
It  is  not  the  language  of  taunt  or  derision.  It  is  the  language 
of  one  who  respects  the  character,  acknowledges  the  rights, 
and  desires  the  prosperity  of  South  Carolina,  as  sincerely  as 
any  one  of  her  citizens.  It  is  a  language  in  which  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  of  those  citizens  has  lately  himself,  m 
substance,  addressed  her.  At  the  festival  held  at  Charleston, 
on  the  third  of  July,  Col.  Drayton,  the  Representative  of  that 
city  in  Congress,  in  a  speech  which  will  do  him  credit,  as  long 
as  the  Union,  or  the  memory  of  the  Union,  shall  last,  thus  ex- 
pressed himself  on  this  great  question : 

'  Should  the  efforts  which  I  have  suggested  fail  of  saccesfl — 
should  the  law  we  complain  of  remain  unrepealed  upon  our  stat- 
ute book — we  should  then  inquire,  whether  a  recurrence  to  the 
remedy  which  I  have  adverted  to,  would  not  be  worse  than  the 


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536  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

malady  it  profesMS  to  cure — ^whether  its  eerUin  conaequence 
would  not  be  disunion — whether  disunion  would  not  be  fraught 
with  more  disastrous  results  than  the  provisions  of  the  act — 
whether  it  would  not  create  a  division  in  our  own  State,  produc- 
ing the  direst  of  national  calamities— civil  war.  After  ponder- 
ing dispassionately  and  profoundly,  upon  these  questions,  we  are 
bound  by  every  social  and  moral  duty  to  select  the  least  of  the 
evils  presented  to  us.  For  my  own  part,  I  feel  no  hesitation  in 
avowing  that  I  should  regard  the  separation  of  South  Carolina 
from  the  Union,  as  incalculably  more  to  be  deplored,  than  the  ex- 
istence of  the  law  which  we  condemn.' 

But  the  consequences,  which  we  have  hitherto  hinted  at,  of 
the  separation,  are  not  the  worst ;  as  certain  as  any  of  them, 
as  certain  as  destiny,  would  be  the  recolonization  of  South 
Carolina  by  Great  Britain.  What  ensures,  as  against  the 
claims  of  Grreat  Britain,  the  independence  of  South  Carolina  ? 
The  treaty  of  1783  with  the  United  States  ?  From  this  union 
South  Carolina  retires.  Does  she  carry  with  her  the  benefits 
of  its  treaties  ?  Certainly  not ;  and  if  she  did,  who  is  to  pro- 
tect her  in  the  enjoyment  of  those  benefits  ?  Will  Great  Brit- 
ain refrain  from  taking  renewed  possession  of  her  ancient  col- 
ony ?    Why  should  she  ?    What  shall  prevent  her  ? 

Let  those,  then,  who  are  for  weighing  the  value  of  the 
Union,  remember,  that,  in  the  destiny  of  nations,  as  written  by 
the  hand  of  Heaven  itself,  Upharsin  stands  next  to  Tekel :  Te- 
kel,  thou  art  weighed  in  the  balances  and  found  wanting ; 
Upharsin,  thy  kingdom  is  divided  and  given  to  the  Medes  and 
Persians.  The  day  that  takes  South  Carolina  from  the  Union, 
gives  her  to  the  British  crown.  Whatever  be  the  first  act  of 
the  American  Congress  which  she  nullifies,  the  second,  as  far 
as  she  is  concerned,  will  be  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

In  "closing  this  article,  we  reioice  to  have  it  in  our  power  to 
submit  to  our  readers  the  following  communication  from  the 
venerable  individual,  to  whom,  more  than  to  any  one  living,  the 
people  of  the  United  States  are  indebted  for  the  Constitution. 
This  individual  was  an  active  member  of  the  Continental  Con- 
gress ;  a  leader  in  the  Convention  that  framed  the  Federal  Cqn- 
stitution  5  and  the  most  influential  of  its  supporters  in  the  Vir- 
ginia Convention  which  adopted  it.  He  wrote  the  greatest  part 
of  the  Federalist ;  was  the  author  of  the  Virginia  Resolutions  of 
1798,  and  the  Virginia  Report  of  1799  ;  and  for  sixteen  years 
was  charged  with  the  administration  of  the  Government,  as  the 


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1880.]  To  NuOtfy  an  Act  of  Congress.  537 

incumbent  successively  of  the  second  and  first  offices  in  the 
Executive.  The  South  Carolina  doctrine  reposes  raamly  on 
the  alleged  authority  of  the  Virginia  Resolutions ;  and  it  is 
therefore  scarcely  necessary  to  add,  that  there  is  no  man,  whose 
voice,  on  the  point  in  controversy,  is  entitled  to  be  heard  with  so 
much  deference  as  that  of  their  author.  We  doubt  not  it  will  be 
heard  with  respect  by  the  people  of  the  United  States,  and 
that  its  utterance,  at  this  moment,  will  be  felt  as  a  new  title  to 
their  gratitude.* 

<  Montpelier,  August/ 1830. 

•Dear  Sir, 

I  have  duly  received  your  letter,  in  which  you  refer 
to  the  "  nullifying  doctrine/'  advocated,  as  a  constitutional  right, 
by  some  of  oar  distinguished  fellow-citizens ;  and  to  the  proceed- 
ings of  the  Virginia  Legislature  in  '98  and  '99,  as  appealed  to  in 
behalf  of  that  doctrine ;  and  you  express  a  wish  for  my  ideas  on 
those  subjects. 

'  I  am  aware  of  the  delicacy  of  the  task  in  some  respects,  and 
the  difficulty  in  every  respect,  of  doing  full  justice  to  it.  But,  hav- 
ing, in  more  than  one  instance,  complied  with  a  like  request  from 
other  friendly  quarters,  I  do  not  decline  a  sketch  of  the  views  which 
I  have  been  led  to  take  of  the  doctrine  in  question,  as  well  as  some 
others  connected  with  them ;  and  of  the  grounds  from  which  it 
appears,  that  the  proceedings  of  Virginia  have  been  misconceived 
by  those  who  have  appealed  to  them.  In  order  to  understand  the 
true  character  of  the  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  the  error, 
not  uncommon,  must  be  avoided,  of  viewing  it  through  the  me- 
dium, either  of  a  consolidated  Government,  or  of  a  confederated 
Government,  whilst  it  is  neither  the  one  nor  the  other ;  but  a  mix- 
ture of  both.  And  having,  in  no  model,  the  similitudes  and  anal- 
ogies applicable  to  other  systems  of  Government,  it  must,  more 
than  any  other,  be  its  own  interpreter  according  to  its  text  and  the 
fcLcts  of  the  case. 

'  From  these  it  will  be  seen,  that  the  characteristic  peculiarities 
of  the  Constitution  are,  1,  the  mode  of  its  formation;  2,  the  di- 
vision of  the  supreme  powers  of  Government  between  the  States  in 
their  united  capacity,  and  the  States  in  their  individual  capacities. 

*  1.  It  was  formed,  not  by  the  Governments  of  the  component 
States,  as  the  Federal  Government  for  which  it  was  substituted 
was  formed.     Nor  was  it  formed  by  a  majority  of  the  people  of  the 


*  It  is  perhaps  superfluous  to  observe,  that  the  venerable  author 
of  this  letter  is  in  no  way  responsible  for  any  sentiment  contained  in 
our  article,  to  which  it  is  appended. 


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538  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

United  States,  as  a  single  community^  in  the  manner  of  a  (xmsol- 
idated  Government. 

'  It  was  formed  by  the  States,  that  is,  by  the  people  in  each  of 
the  States,  acting  in  their  highest  sovereign  capacity ;  and  formed 
consequently  by  the  same  authority  which  formed  the  State  Con- 
stitutions. 

'  Being  thus  derived  from  the  same  source  as  the  Constitutions  of 
the  States,  it  has,  within  each  State,  the  same  authority  as  the 
Constitution  of  the  State ;  and  is  as  much  a  Constitution,  in  the 
strict  sense  of  the  term,  within  its  prescribed  sphere,  as  the  Con- 
stitutions of  the  States  are,  within  their  respective  spheres :  but 
with  this  obvious  and  essential  difference,  that  being  a  compact 
among  the  States  in  thoir  highest  sovereign  capacity,  and  consti- 
tuting the  pec^e  thereof  one  people  for  certain  purposes,  it  cannot 
be  altered  or  annulled  at  the  will  of  the  States  individually,  as  the 
Constitution  of  a  State  may  be  at  its  individual  will. 

'  2.  And  that  it  divides  the  supreme  powers  of  Government,  be- 
tween the  Government  of  the  United  States,  and  the  Governments 
of  the  individual  States,  is  stamped  on  the  face  of  the  instrument ; 
the  powers  of  war  and  of  taxation,  of  commerce  and  of  treaties, 
and  other  enumerated  powers  vested  in  the  Government  of  the 
United  States,  being  of  as  high  and  sovereign  a  character,  as  any 
of  the  powers  reserved  to  the  State  Governments. 

'  Nor  is  the  Government  of  the  United  States,  created  by  the 
Constitution,  less  a  Government  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  term, 
within  the  sphere  of  its  powers,  than  the  Governments  created  by 
the  Constitutions  of  the  States  are,  within  their  several  spheres. 
It  is  like  them  organized  into  Legislative,  Executive,  and  Judi- 
ciary Departments.  It  operates,  like  them,  directly  on  persons 
and  things.  And,  like  them,  it  has  at  command  a  physical  force 
for  executing  the  powers  committed  to  it.  The  concurrent  opera- 
tion in  certain  cases,  is  one  of  the  features  marking  the  peculiarity 
of  the  system. 

'  Between  these  different  Constitutional  Governments,  the  one 
operating  in  all  the  States,  the  others  operating  separately  in  each, 
with  the  aggregate  powers  of  Government  divided  between  them, 
it  could  not  escape  attention,  that  controversies  would  arise  con- 
cerning the  boundaries  of  jurisdiction ;  and  that  some  provision 
ought  to  be  made  for  such  occurrences.  A  political  system  that 
does  not  provide  for  a  peaceable  and  authoritative  termination  of 
occurring  controversies,  would  not  be  more  than  the  shadow  of  a 
Grovernment ;  the  object  and  end  of  a  real  Government  being, ''the 
substitution  of  law  and  order,  fer  uncertainty,  con&sion,  and  vio- 
lence. 

*  That  to  have  left  a  final  decision,  in  such  cases,  to  each  of  the 


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1830.]  To  JVuUiJy  an  Act  of  Congress.  639 

States,  then  thirteen,  and  already  twenty-four,  could  not  fail  to 
make  the  Constitution  and  laws  of  the  United  States  different  in 
different  States,  was  obvious ;  and  not  less  obvious,  that  this  diver- 
sity of  independent  decisions,  must  altogether  distract  the  Govern- 
ment of  the  Union,  and  speedily  put  an  end  to  the  Union  itself. 
A  uniform  authority  of  the  laws,  is  in  itself  a  vital  principle. 
Some  of  the  most  important  laws  could  not  be  partially  executed. 
They  must  be  executed  in  all  the  States,  or  they  could  be  duly 
executed  in  none.  An  impost,  or  an  excise,  for  example,  if  not  in 
force  in  some  States,  would  be  defeated  in  others.  It  is  well 
known  that  this  was  among  the  lessons  of  experience,  which  had 
a  primary  influence  in  bringing  about  the  existing  Constitution. 
A  loss  of  its  general  authority  would  moreover  revive  the  exaspe- 
rating questions  between  the  States  holding  ports  for  foreign  com- 
merce, and  the  adjoining  States  without  them ;  to  which  are  now 
added,  all  the  inland  States,  necessarily  carrying  on  their  foreign 
commerce  through  other  States. 

*  To  have  made  the  decisions  under  the  authority  of  the  indi- 
vidual States,  co-ordinate,  in  all  cases,  with  decisions  under  the 
authority  of  the  United  States,  would  unavoidably  produce  col- 
lisions incompatible  with  the  peace  of  society,  and  with  that  rega- 
le and  efficient  administration,  which  is  of  the  essence  of  free 
governments.  Scenes  could  not  be  avoided,  in  which  a  ministe- 
rial officer  of  the  United  States,  and  the  correspondent  officer  of  an 
individual  State,  would  have  rencounters  in  executing  conflicting 
decrees;  the  result  of  which  would  depend  on  the  comparative 
force  of  the  local  posses  attending  them ;  and  that,  a  casualty  de- 
pending on  the  political  opinions  and  party  feelings  in  different 
States. 

*  To  have  referred  every  clashing  decision,  under  the  two  author- 
ities, for  a  final  decision,  to  the  States  as  parties  to  the  Constitu- 
tion, would  be  attended  with  delays,  with  inconveniences,  and 
with  expenses,  amounting  to  a  prohibition  of  the  expedient ;  not 
to  mention  its  tendency  to  impair  the  salutary  veneration  for  a  sys- 
tem requiring  such  frequent  interpositions,  nor  the  delicate  ques- 
tions which  might  present  themselves  as  to  the  form  of  stating  the 
appeal,  and  as  to  the  quorum  for  deciding  it. 

*  To  have  trusted  to  negotiation  for  adjusting  disputes  between 
the  Government  of  the  United  States  and  the  State  Governments, 
as  between  independent  and  separate  sovereignties,  would  have 
lost  sight  altogether  of  a  Constitution  and  Government  for  the 
Union ;  and  opened  a  direct  road  from  a  failure  of  that  resort,  to 
the  ultima  ratio  between  nations  wholly  independent  of  and  alien 
to  each  other.  If  the  idea  had  its  origin  in  the  process  of  adjusts 
ment,  between  separate  branches  of  the  same  Government,  the 


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640  TTie  Right  of  a  State  [Oct 

analog  entirely  fails.  In  the  case  of  disputes  between  indepen- 
dent parts  of  the  same  Government,  neither  part  being  able  to  con- 
summate its  will,  nor  the  Government  to  proceed  without  a  con- 
currence of  the  parts,  necessity  brings  about  an  accommodation. 
In  disputes  between  a  State  Government,  and  the  Government  of 
the  United  States,  the  case  is  practically  as  well  as  theoreticaUy 
different ;  each  party  possessing  all  the  departments  of  an  organ- 
ized Government,  Legislative,  Executive,  and  Judiciary ;  and  hav- 
ing each  a  physical  force  to  supp(»t  its  pretensions.  Although  the 
issue  of  negotiation  might  sometimes  avoid  this  extremity,  how 
often  would  it  haf^n  among  so  many  States,  that  an  unaccommo- 
dating spirit  in  some  would  render  that  resource  unavailing  ?  A 
contrary  su{^)osition  would  not  accord  with  a  knowledge  of  human 
nature,  or  the  evidence  of  our  own  political  history. 

*  The  Constituticm,  not  relying  on  any  of  the  Receding  modiii- 
eations,  for  its  safe  and  succeiuful  qieration,  has  expressly  de- 
clared, on  the  one  hand,  1, ''  that  the  Constitution,  and  the  laws  made 
in  pursuance  thereof,  and  all  treaties  made  under  the  authority  of 
the  United  States,  shall  be  the  supreme  law  of  the  land ;  2,  that 
the  Judges  of  every  State  shall  be  bound  thereby,  any  thing  in  the 
Constitution  and  laws  of  any  State,  to  the  contrary  notwidistand- 
ing  ;  3,  that  the  judicial  power  of  the  United  States  shall  extend 
to  ail  cases  in  law  and  equity  arising  under  the  Constitution,  the 
laws  of  the  United  States,  and  treaties  made  under  their  author- 
ity, &c." 

*  On  the  other  hand,  as  a  security  of  the  rights  and  powers  of 
the  States,  in  their  individual  capacities,  against  an  undue  pre- 
ponderance of  the  powers  granted  to  the  Government  over  them  in 
their  united  capacity,  the  Constitution  has  relied  on,  1 ,  the  respon- 
sibility of  the  Senators  and  Representatives  in  the  Legislature  of 
the  United  States  to  the  Legislatures  and  people  of  the  States ; 
2,  the  resp<»isibility  of  the  President  to  the  people  of  the  United 
States ;  and  3,  the  liability  of  the  Executive  and  Judicial  func- 
tionaries of  the  United  States  to  impeachment  by  the  Representa- 
tives of  the  people  of  the  States,  in  one  branch  of  the  Legislature 
of  the  United  States,  and  trial  by  the  Representatives  of  the 
States,  in  the  other  branch :  the  State  functionaries.  Legislative, 
Executive,  and  Judicial,  being,  at  the  same  time,  in  their  ap- 
pointment and  responsibility,  altogether  independent  of  the  agency 
or  authority  of  the  United  States. 

*  How  far  this  structure  of  the  Government  of  the  United  States 
is  adequate  and  safe  for  its  objects,  time  alone  can  absolutely  de- 
termine. Experience  seems  to  have  shewn,  that  whatever  may 
grow  out  of  future  stages  of  our  national  career,  there  is,  as  yet,  a 
sufficient  control,  in  the  popular  will,  over  the  Executive  and  Le- 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


1630.]  To  J^vil^  an  Ad  of  Congress.  541 

gislatiye  Departm^its  of  the  Government.  When  the  Alien  and 
Sedition  Laws  were  passed  in  contraventicNi  to  the  opinions  and 
feelings  of  the  community,  the  first  elections  that  ensued  put  an 
end  to  them.  And  whatever  may  have  been  the  character  of 
other  acts,  in  the  judgment  of  many  of  us,  it  is  but  true,  thafr  they 
have  generally  accorded  with  the  views  of  a  majority  of  the  States 
and  of  the  people.  At  the  present  day  it  seems  well  understood, 
that  the  laws  which  have  created  most  dissatisfaction,  have  had  a 
like  sanction  without  doors ;  and  that,  whether  continued,  varied, 
or  repealed,  a  like  proof  will  be  given  of  the  sympathy  and  respon- 
sibility of  the  Representative  body,  to  the  constttuent  body.  In- 
deed, the  great  complaint  now  is,  against  the  results  of  this  sym- 
pathy and  responsibility  in  the  Legislative  policy  of  the  nation. 

With  respect  to  the  judicial  power  of  the  United  States,  and  the 
authority  of  the  Supreme  Court  in  relation  to  the  boundary  of  jusi^- 
diction  between  the  Federal  and  the  State  Governments,  I  may  be 
permitted  to  refer  to  the  thirty-ninth  number  of  the  **  Federalist,"* 
for  the  light  in  which  the  subject  was  regarded  by  its  writer,  at 
the  period  when  the  Constitution  was  depending ;  and  it  is  be- 
lieved, that  the  same  was  the  prevailing  view  then  taken  of  it,  that 
the  same  view  has  continued  to  prevail,  and  that  it  does  so  at  this 
time,  notwithstanding  the  eminent  exceptions  to  it. 

'  But  it  is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  concession  of  tliis  power 
to  the  Supreme  Court,  in  cases  failing  within  the  course  of  its 
functions,  to  maintain  that  the  power  has  not  always  been  rightly 
exercised.  To  say  nothing  of  the  period,  happily  a  short  one, 
when  Judges  in  their  seats  did  not  abstain  firom  intemperate  and 
party  harangues,  equally  at  variance  with  their  duty  and  their  dig- 
nity ;  there  have  been  occasional  decisions  from  the  bench,  which 
have  incurred  serious  and  extensive  disapprobation.  Still  it  would 
seem,  that,  with  but  few  exceptions,  the  course  of  the  Judiciary 
has  been  hitherto  sustained  by  the  predominant  sense  of  the  na- 
tion. 

'  Those  who  have  denied  or  doubted  the  supremacy  of  the  judi- 

*  No.  39.  *  It  is  true,  that  in  controversies  relating  to  the  boundary 
between  the  two  jurisdictions,  the  tribunal  which  is  ultimately  to  de- 
cide, is  to  be  established  under  the  General  Government  But  this 
does  not  change  the  principle  of  the  case.  The  decision  is  to  be  im- 
partially made,  according  to  the  rules  of  the  Constitution ;  and  all  the 
usual  and  most  eiSectual  precautions  are  taken  to  secure  this  impartial- 
ity. Some  such  tribunal  is  clearly  essential  to  prevent  an  appeal  to  the 
sword,  and  a  dissolution  of  the  compact ;  and  that  it  ought  to  be  estab- 
lished under  the  General,  rather  than  under  the  local  Governments; 
or,  to  speak  more  properly,  tliat  it  could  be  safely  established  under  the 
first  alone,  is  a  position  not  likely  to  be  combated.' 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^No.  69.  69 


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542  The  Right  of  a  State  [Oct. 

cial  power  of  the  United  States,  and  denounce  at  the  same  time  a 
nullifying  power  in  a  State,  seem  not  to  have  suffici^itly  adverted 
to  the  utter  inefficiency  of  a  supremacy  in  a  law  of  the  land,  with- 
out a  supremacy  in  the  exposition  and  executicm  of  the  law ;  nor 
to  the  destruction  of  all  equipoise  between  the  Federal  Qoveror 
ment  and  the  State  Governments,  if,  whilst  the  functionaries  of 
the  Federal  Government  are  directly  or  indirectly  elected  by  and 
responsible  to  the  States,  and  the  finactionaries  of  the  States  are  in 
their  appointment  and  responsibility  wholly  indep^ident  of  the 
United  States,  no  constitutional  control  of  any  sort  belonged  tothe 
United  States  over  the  States.  Under  sucK  an  organization,  it  is 
evident  that  it  would  be  in  the  power  of  the  States,  individually, 
to  pass  unauthorized  laws,  and  to  carry  them  into  comfdete  effect, 
any  thing  in  the  Constitution  and  laws  of  the  United  States  to  the 
contrary  notwithstanding.  This  would  be  a  nullifying  power  in  its 
plenary  character ;  and  whether  it  had  its  final  effect,  through  the 
Legislative,  Executive,  or  Judiciary  organ  of  the  State,  would  be 
equally  fatal  to  the  constituted  relation  between  the  two  Govern- 
ments. 

'  Should  the  provisions  of  the  Constitution  as  here  reviewed,  be 
found  not  to  secure  the  Government  and  rights  of  the  States, 
against  usurpations  and  abuses  cm  the  part  of  the  United  States, 
the  final  resort  within  the  purview  of  the  Constitution,  lies  in  an 
amendment  of  the  Constitution,  according  to  a  process  applicable 
by  the  States. 

*  And  in  the  event  of  a  failure  of  every  constitutional  resort,  and 
an  accumulation  of  usurpations  and  abuses,  rendering  passive  obe- 
dience and  non-resistance  a  greater  evil,  than  resistance  and  revo- 
lution, there  can  remain  but  one  resort,  the  last  of  all;  an  aj^al 
fi'om  the  cancelled  obligations  of  the  constitutional  compact,  to 
(M:iginal  rights  and  the  law  of  self-preservation.  This  is  the  uUima 
ratio  under  all  Governments,  whether  consolidated,  confederated, 
or  a  compound  of  both ;  and  it  cannot  be  doubted,  that  a  single 
member  of  the  Union,  in  the  extremity  supposed,  but  in  that  only, 
would  have  a  right,  as  an  extra  and  ultra-constitutional  right,  to 
make  the  appeal. 

This  brings  us  to  the  expedient  lately  advanced,  which  claims 
for  a  single  State  a  right  to  appeal  against  an  exercise  of  pow^r 
by  the  Government  of  the  United  States  decided  by  the  State  to 
be  unconstitutional,  to  4;he  parties  to  the  constitutional  compact ; 
the  decision  of  the  State  to  have  the  effect  of  nullifying^  the  act 
of  the  Government  of  the  United  States,  unless  the  decision  of 
the  State  be  reversed  by  three  fourths  of  the  parties. 

The  distinguished  names  and  high  authorities  which  appear  to 
have  asserted  and  given  a  practical  scope  to  this  doctrine,  entitle 
it  to  a  respect  which  it  might  be  difficult  otherwise  to  feel  for  it. 


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1830.]  To  Mittify  an  Act  of  Congress.  S43 

*  If  the  doctrine  were  to  be  understood  as  requiring  the  three 
fourths  of  the  States  to  sustain,  instead  of  that  proportion  to  re- 
verse the  decision  of*  the  appealing  State,  the  decision  to  be 
without  effect  during  the  appeal,  it  would  be  sufficient  to  remark, 
tha;t  this  extra-constitutional  course  might  well  give  way  to  that 
marked  out  by  the  Constitution,  which  authorizes  two  thirds  of 
the  States  to  institute  and  three  fourths  to  effectuate  an  amend- 
ment of  the  Constitution,  establishing  a  permanent  rule  of  the 
highest  authority,  in  place  of  an  irregular  precedent  of  con- 
struction only. 

*  But  it  is  understood  that  the  nullifying  doctrine  imports  that 
the  decision  of  the  State  is  to  be  presumed  valid,  and  that  it 
overrules  the  law  of  the  United  States,  unless  overruled  by  three 
fourths  of  the  States. 

'  Can  more  be  necessary  to  demonstrate  the  inadmissibility  of 
such  a  doctrine,  than  that  it  puts  it  in  the  power  of  the  smallest 
fraction  over  one  fourth  of  the  United  States,  that  is,  of  seven 
States  out  of  twenty  four,  to  give  the  law  and  even  the  Constitu- 
tion to  seventeen  States,  each  of  the  seventeen  having  as  parties 
to  the  Constitution,  an  equal  right  with  each  of  the  seven,  to  ex- 
poimd  it,  and  to  insist  on  the  exposition  ?  That  the  seven  might, 
in  particular  instances  be  right,  and  the  seventeen  wrong,  is 
more  than  possible.  But  to  establish  a  positive  and  permanent 
rule  giving  such  a  power,  to  such  a  minority,  over  such  a  major- 
ity, would  overturn  the  first  principle  of  free  government,  and  in 
practice  necessarily  overturn  the  Government  itself. 

'  It  is  to  be  recollected  that  the  Constitution  was  proposed  to 
the  people  of  the  States  as  a  whole,  and  unanimously  adopted  by 
the  States  as  a  tohok,  it  being  a  part  of  the  Constitution  that  not 
less  than  three  fourths  of  the  States  should  be  competent  to 
make  any  alteration  in  what  had  been  unanimously  agreed  to. 
So  great  is  the  caution  on  this  point,  that  in  two  cases  where 
peculiar  interests  were  at  stake,  a  proportion  even  of  three 
fourths  is  distrusted,  and  unanimity  required  to  make  an  alter- 
ation. 

When  the  Constitution  was  adopted  as  a  whole,  it  is  certain 
that  there  were  many  parts,  which,  if  separately  proposed,  would 
have  been  promptly  rejected.  It  is  far  from  impossible,  that 
^very  part  of  a  Constitntion  might  be  rejected  by  a  majority,  and 
yet  taken  together  as  a  whole  be  unanimously  accepted.  Free 
C/onstitutions  will  rarely  if  ever  be  formed,  without  reciprocal 
concessions ;  without  articles  conditioned  on  and  balancing  each 
other.  Is  there  a  Constitution  of  a  single  State  out  of  the 
twenty-four  that  would,  bear  the  experiment  of  having  its  compo- 
jtent  parts  submitted  to  the  people  and  separately  decided  on  ? 


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644  The  Right  of  a  StaU  [Oct. 

'  Whtl  the  Cue  of  the  ConstitatioB  of  the  Uahad  States  would 
be  if  a  small  proportioD  of  the  States  could  eiponge  parts  of  it 
particularly  vslued  by  a  large  majority^  can  have  bat  one  answer. 

'  The  d^culty  is  not  removed  by  limiting  the  doctrine  to  cases 
of  eonstructitm.  How  many  cases  of  that  scnrt,  involTing  cardi- 
nal provisions  of  the  Constitution^  hare  occurred  1  How  many 
now  oust  1  How  many  may  hereafter  spring  up  t  How  many 
might  be  ingeniously  created,  if  entitled  to  the  privilege  of  a  de- 
cision io  the  mode  proposed  ? 

*  Is  it  certain  that  the  principle  of  that  mode  would  not  reach 
further  than  is  contemplated.  If  a  single  State  can  of  right  re- 
quire three  fourths  of  its  co-States  to  overrule  its  exposition  of 
the  Constitution,  because  that  proportion  is  authorized  to  amend 
it,  would  the  plea  be  less  plausible  that,  as  the  Constitution  was 
unanimously  established,  it  ought  to  be  unanimously  expounded  ? 

*  The  reply  to  all  such  suggestions  seems  to  be  unavoidable  and 
irresistible ;  that  the  Constitution  is  a  compact,  that  its  text  is  to 
be  expounded  according  to  the  provisions  for  expounding  it — ' 
making  a  part  of  the  compact ;  and  that  none  of  the  parties  can 
rightfully  renounce  the  expounding  provision  more  than  any 
other  part.  When  such  a  right  accrues,  as  may  accrue,  it  must 
grow  out  of  abuses  of  the  compact  releasing  the  sufibrers  from 
their  fealty  to  it. 

*  In  favor  of  the  nullifying  claim  for  the  States,  individually,  it 
appears,  as  you  observe,  that  the  proceedings  of  the  Legislature 
of  Virginia,  in  '98  and  '99,  against  the  Alien  and  Sedition  Acts, 
are  much  dwelt  upon. 

'  It  may  often  happen,  as  experience  proves,  that  erroneous 
constructions  not  anticipated,  may  not  be  sufficiently  guarded 
against,  in  the  language  used ;  and  it  is  due  to  the  distinguished 
individuals,  who  have  misconceived  the  intention  of  those  pro* 
ceedings,  to  suppose  that  the  meaning  of  the  Legislature,  though 
well  comprehended  at  the  time,  may  not  now  be  obvious  to  those 
unacquainted  with  the  contemporary  indications  and  impressions. 

*  But  it  is  believed  that  by  keeping  in  view  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  Governments  of  the  States,  and  the  States  in  the  sense 
in  which  they  were  parties  to  the  Constitution;  between  the 
rights  of  the  parties,  in  their  concurrent  and  in  their  individual 
capacities ;  between  the  several  modes  and  objects  of  interposi- 
tion against  the  abuses  of  power,  and  especially  between  inter- 
positions within  the  purview  of  the  Constitution,  and  interposi- 
tions appealing  from  the  Constitution  to  the  rights  of  nature 
paramount  to  all  Constitutions ;  with  an  attention,  always  of  ex- 
planatory use,  to  the  views  and  arguments  which  were  combated, 
the  Resolutions  of  Virginia,  as  vindicated  in  the  Rep»t  on 


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1880,]  To  ^Nullify  an  Act  of  Congress.  646 

them,  will  be  foand  entitled  to  an  exposition,  showing  a  eonsist' 
ency  in  their  parts,  and  an  inconsisteney  of  the  whole  with  the 
doctrine  under  consideration. 

*  That  the  Legislature  could  not  have  intended  to  sanction 
such  a  doctrine,  is  to  be  inferred  from  the  debates  in  the  House 
of  Delegates,  and  from  the  address  of  the  two  Houses  to  their 
constituents,  on  the  subject  of  the  Resolutions.  The  tenor  of 
the  debates,  which  were  ably  conducted  and  are  understood  to 
have  been  revised  for  the  press  by  most,  if  not  all,  of  the  speak- 
ers, discloses  no  reference  whatever  to  a  constitutional  right  in 
an  individual  State,  to  arrest  by  force  the  operation  of  a  law  of 
the  United  States.  Concert  among  the  States  for  redress  against 
the  Alien  and  Sedition  Laws,  as  acts  of  usurped  power,  was  a 
leading  sentiment ;  and  the  attainment  of  a  concert,  the  imme* 
diate  object  of  the  course  adopted  by  the  Legislature,  which  was 
that  of  inviting  the  other  States  '*  to  concur,  in  declaring  the  act9 
to  be  unconstitutional,  and  to  co^erate  by  the  necessary  and 
proper  measures  in  maintaining  unimpaired  the  authorities, 
rights  and  liberties  reserved  to  the  States  respectively  and  to  the 
people."*  That  by  the  necessary  and  proper  measures  to  be 
concurrently  and  co^eratively  taken,  were  meant  measures 
known  to  the  Constitution,  particularly  the  ordinary  control  of 
the  people  and  Legislatures  of  the  States,  over  the  Government 
of  the  United  States,  cannot  be  doubted  ;  and  the  interposition 
of  this  control,  as  the  event  showed,  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

'  It  is  worthy  of  remark,  and  explanatory  of  the  intentions  of 
the  Legislature,  that  the  words  *'  not  law,  but  utterly  null,  void 
and  of  no  force  or  effect,"  which  had  followed,  in  one  of  the 
Resolutions,  the  word  ''  unconstitutional,"  were  struck  out  by 
common  consent.  Though  the  words  were  in  fact  but  synony- 
mous with  "  unconstitutional ;"  yet  to  guard  against  a  misunder- 
standing of  this  phrase  as  more  than  declaratory  of  opinion,  the 
word  *'  unconstitutional "  alone  was  retained,  as  not  liable  to  that 
danger. 

'  The  published  Address  of  the  Legislature  to  the  people, 
their  constituents,  affords  another  conclusive  evidence  of  its 
views.  The  Address  warns  them  against  the  encroaching  spirit 
of  the  General  Government,  argues  the  unconstitutionality  of  the 
Alien  and  Sedition  Acts,  points  to  other  instances  in  which  the 
constitutional  limits  had  been  overleaped  ;  dwells  upon  the  dan- 
gerous mode  of  deriving  power  by  implication  ;  and  in  general 
presses  the  necessity  of  watching  over  the  consolidating  ten- 
dency of  the  Federal  policy.     But  nothing  is  said  that  can  be 

*  See  the  concluding  resolution  of  1798. 


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646  !Z%e  Righi  of  a  State,  fyc.  [Oct. 

understood  to  look  to  means  of  maintaining  the  rights  of  the 
States,  beyond  the  regular  ones,  within  the  forms  of  the  Consti* 
tution. 

'  If  any  further  lights  on  the  subject  could  be  needed,  a  very 
strong  one  is  reflected  in  the  answers  to  the  Resolutions,  by  the 
States  which  protested  against  them.  The  main  objection  of 
these,  beyond  a  few  general  complaints  of  the  inflammatory  ten- 
dency of  the  Resolutions,  was  directed  against  the  assumed 
authority  of  a  State  Legislature  to  declare  a  law  of  the  United 
States  unconstitutional,  which  they  pronounced  an  unwarranta- 
ble interference  with  the  exclusive  jurisdiction  of  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States.  Had  the  Resolutions  been  regarded 
as  avowing  and  maintaining  a  right,  in  an  individual  State,  to 
arrest,  by  force,  the  execution  of  a  law  of  the  United  States,  it 
must  be  presumed  that  it  would  have  been  a  conspicuous  object 
of  their  denunciation. 

'  With  cordial  salutations, 

James  Madison.' 


Digitized  by  VjOOQ  IC 


QUARTERLY  LIST  OF  NEW  PUBLICATIONS. 


MATHEMATICS. 

LogaiithmTc  and  Trigonometric  Tables  to  seven  places  of  Deci- 
mals ;  in  a  pocket  form,  in  which  the  errors  of  former  tables  are  cor- 
rected. By  F.  R.  Hassler,  M.  A.  P.  S.  New  York.  G.  &  C.  &  H. 
CarviU.    12mo. 

BOTANY. 

Conversations  on  Vegetable  Physiology ;  comprehending  the  Ele- 
ments of  Botany,  with  their  Application  to  Agriculture.  Bv  me  Author 
of 'Conversations  on  Chemistry'  and  'Naturfu  Philoso0iy.^  Adapted  to 
the  use  of  Schools.  By  the  Rev.  J.  L.  Blake,  A.  M.  Boston.  Crocker 
&  Brewster.   12mo.  pp.  272. 

BIOGRAPHY. 

The  Life  of  John  P.  Oberlin,  Pastor  of  Waldbach,  in  the  Ban  de 
la  Roche.    Philadelphia.    12mo.  pp.  140. 

Memoir  of  Rev.  Levi  Parsons,  firat  Missionary  to  Palestine,  from  the 
United  States.  Second  Edition,  with  additions.  Compiled  and  pre- 
pared by  Rev.  Daniel  O.  Morton,  A.  M.  Burlington.  Chauncey  Good- 
rich. 12mo.  pp.  408. 

Sketches  of  the  Lives  of  the  Signers  of  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence, intended  principally  for  the  use  of  Schools.  By  N.  Dwight. 
New  York,    J.  &  J.  Harper.  12mo.  pp.  273. 

Sketches  of  Public  Characters,  drawn  from  the  Living  and  the  Dead, 
with  Notices  of  other  Matters.  By  Ignatius  Lovola  Rc^ertson,  LL.  D. 
a  resident  of  the  United  States.    New  York.    E.  Bliss.  12mo.  pp.  259. 

The  Pilffrim  Fathers,  or  the  Lives  of  some  of  the  First  SetUers  of 
New  England.  Designed  for  Sabbath  School  Libraries.  Portland. 
Shirley,  Hyde,  &  Co.    18mo.  pp.  12a 

Memoir  of  the  Life  and  Character  of  Rev.  Samuel  Hopkins,  D.  D. 
With  an  Appendix,  by  John  Ferguson.  Boston.  L.  W.  Kimball.  18mo. 

DRAMA. 

Carabasset ;  a  Tragedy,  in  Five  Acts.  By  N.  Deering.  Portland. 
Shirley,  Hyde,  &  Co.    pp.  54. 

Sertorius,  or  the  Roman  Patriot ;  a  Tragedy,  in  Five  Acts.  By  David 
Paul  Brown,  Esq.    Philadelphia.    Carey  &  Hart 

EDUCATION. 

The  Infant  School  Manual,  or  Teacher's  Assistant,  containing  a  view 
of  the  System  of  Injfant  Schools,  also  a  variety  of  useful  Lessons,  pre- 
pared for  the  use  of  Teachers.  By  Mrs.  Howland.  Second  Edition. 
Revised,  Improved,  and  Enlarged.  Boston.  Carter  &  Hendee.  12mo. 
pp.  314. 

An  Epitome  of  Universal  Geography ;  or  a  Description  of  the  Vari- 
ous Countries  of  the. Globe ;  wi£  a  View  of  their  Political  Condition. 


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548  New  Publicai%on$.  [Oct. 

at  the  present  time.  With  sixty  Maps.  By  Nathan  Hale.  Boston. 
12mo.   pp.408. 

Lessons  for  Infant  and  Sabbath  Schools ;  with  a  Plan  for  conducting 
an  Infant  Class.    Worcester.    Dorr  &  Howland.    18mo.  pp.  198. 

The  Juvenile  Speaker.  By  Samuel  Putnam.  Dover.  Eli  French. 
18mo.    pp.  142. 

Questions  on  Select  Portions  of  the  Four  Evangelists.  By  Joseph 
Allen.    Boston.    Gray  &  Bowen.    Second  Edition.    18mo.    pp.  112. 

Stories  about  Arnold,  the  Traitor ;  Andre,  the  Spy ;  and  Champe,  the 
Patriot  For  the  Children  of  the  United  States,  with  Engravings.  New 
Haven.    A.  H.  Maltby.    16mo.    pp.  74. 

Political  Class  Book,  intended  to  Instruct  the  Higher  Branches  in 
Schools,  in  the  Origin,  Nature,  and  Use  of  Political  Power.  Boston. 
Richardbon,  Lord,  &  Holbrook.    12mo. 

A  Grammar  of  the  Greek  Language.  By  Benjamin  Franklin  Fiak. 
Boston.    Hilliard,  Gray,  &  Co.    12mo.    pp.241. 

Lectures  to  Young  People.  By  William  B.  Sprague,  D.  D.  With 
an  Introductory  Address.  By  Samuel  Miller,  D.  I>.  New  York.  John 
P.  Haven.    12mo.    pp.288. 

The  Academical  Speaker ;  a  Selection  of  Elegant  Extracts  for  Dec- 
lamation. By  B.  D.  Emerson.  Boston.  Riclmrdson,  Lord  &  Hol- 
brook.   12mo. 

The  American  Linguist,  or  Natural  Grammar.  By  Schuyler  Clark. 
Providence.    Cory,  Jwshall,  &  Hammond.    12mo.    pp.  240. 

A  Collection  of  Colloquial  Phrases,  on  every  Topic  necessary  to 
maintain  Conversation.  Arranged  under  different  heads,  with  numer- 
ous Remarks  on  the  Peculiar  Pronunciation  and  use  of  various  Words. 
The  whole  is  disposed  as  considerablv  to  facilitate  the  acquisition  of  a 
correct  Pronunciation  of  the  French.  By  A.  Bolmar.  Philadelphia. 
Carey  &.  Lea.    ]8mo.    pp.  216. 

A  Geography  of  Middlesex  County ;  for  Young  Children.  By  James 
G.  Carter  and  William  H.  Brooks.  With  a  new  Map  of  the  County. 
Cambridge.    Hilliard  &  Brown.    18mo.    pp.  106. 

The  Classical  Speaker.  By  Charlea  K.  Dillaway,  Instructer  in  the 
Public  Latin  School,  Boston.    Boston.    Lincoln  &  Edmands.    12mo. 

Lessons  in  Enunciation,  comprising  a  Statement  of  Common  Errors 
in  Articulation,  and  the  Rules  of  correct  Usage  in  Pronouncing,  with  a 
Course  of  Elementary  Exercises  in  these  branches  of  Elocution.  By 
William  Russell,  Editor  of  the  Journal  of  Education.  Boston.  Rich- 
ardson, Lord,  &,  Holbrook.    18mo.    pp.  75. 

First  Lessons  in  Reading  and  Spelling,  on  the  Inductive  Method. 
By  John  L.  Parkhurst    Boston.   Crocker  &  Brewster.   16mo.    pp.  94. 

HISTORY. 

Memoirs  of  the  Historical  Society  of  Pennsylvania.  Vol.  2.  Part  2. 
Philadelphia.    E.  Littell.    8vo. 

An  Historical  Memoir  of  the  Colony  of  New  Plymouth.  Vol.  2.  By 
Francis  Baylies.    Boston.    Hilliard,  Gray,  &  Co.    8vo. 

Annals  of  Philadelphia,  being  a  Collection  of  Memoirs,  Anecdotes^ 
and  Incidents  of  the  City  and  its  Inhabitants,  from  the  dayn  of  the  Pil* 
grim  Founders.  To  which  is  added  an  Appendix,  containing  Olden 
Time  Researches  and  Reminiscences  of  New  York  City.  By  John  F. 
Watson.    Philadelphia.    Carey  &  Hart    8vo.    pp.  740. 


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1830.]  New  Publications.  540 

LAW. 

Reports  of  Cases  Argued  and  Determined  in  the  Supreme  Judicial 
Court  of  Massachusetts.  By  Octavius  Pickering^.  Vol.  8.  No.  1. 
Boston.    HiUiard,  Gray,  &  Co.    8vo. 

Reports  of  Cases  Argued  and  Adjudged  in  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  United  States,  January  Term.  1830.  By  Richard  Peters.  Vol.  a 
Philadelphia.    John  Grigg.    8vo. 

Condensed  Reports  of  Cases  in  the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States,  containing  the  whole  series  of  the  Decisions  of  the  Court  from 
its  organization  to  the  commencement  of  Peters'  Reports,  at  the  Janu- 
ary Term,  1827.  Edited  hy  Richard  Peters,  Esq.  Vol.  2.  Philadel- 
pma.    John  Gri^g.    8vo. 

A  Digest  of  Pickering's  Reports,  volumes  11^ — ^VII.,  heing  a  Supple- 
ment to  the  Digest  of  the  previous  volumes  of  the  Massachusetts  Re- 
ports. By  Lewis  Bigelow.  Boston.  Hilliard,  Gray,  &  Co.  8va 
pp.339. 

The  Journal  of  Law.  Conducted  hy  an  Association  of  Members  of 
the  Bar.    Nos.  1  to  4.    Philadelphia.    8vo. 

Reports  of  Cases  Argued  and  Adjudged  in  the  Supreme  Court  of  the 
United  States,  January  Term,  1830.  By  Richard  Peters.  Vol.  IX. 
Philadelphia.    John  Grigg.    8vo. 

MEDICINE  AND  SURGERY. 

The  Dyspeptic's  Monitor,  or  the  Nature,  Causes,  and  Cure  of  the  Dis- 
eases called  Dyspepsia,  Indigestion,  Liver  Complaint,  &c.  By  S.  W. 
Avery,  M.  D.    New  York.    E.  Bliss.    12mo.    pp.  152. 

The  Influence  of  Modem  Physical  Education  of  Females,  in  pro- 
ducing and  confirming  deformity  of  the  Spine.  By  E.  W.  Duffin,  Sur- 
geon.   New  York.    Charles  S.  Francis.    12mo.    pp.  133. 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

A  System  of  Natural  Philosophy,  illustrated  by  mate  than  two  hun- 
dred Engravings.  Designed  for  the  use  of  Schools  and  Academies. 
By  J.  L.  Comstock,  M.  D.  Hartford.  D.  F.  Robinson  &  Co.  12mo. 
pp.295. 

Masonic  Oaths  neither  Morally  nor  Legally  binding.  An  Address, 
delivered  at  Weymouth,  June  21, 1830.  By  Moses  Thatcher.  Boston. 
Pierce  &  Williams.    8vo.    pp.  30. 

Trial  of  George  Crowninshield,  J.  J.  Kni^p,  Jr.  and  John  Francis 
Knapp,  for  the  Murder  of  Captain  Joseph  White,  of  Salem,  on  the 
night  of  the  6th  of  April,  1830.  Reported  by  John  W.  Whitman, 
Esq.    Boston.    Beals  &  Homer.    8vo.    pp.  104. 

A  View  of  the  United  States.  By  Rev.  Hosea  Hildreth,  Author  of 
Books  for  'New  Hampshire'  and  'Massachusetts  Children.'  Boston. 
Carter  &  Hendee.    18mo.    pp.  156. 

An  Essay  on  Duelling.  New  York.  G.  &  C.  &  H.  Carvill.  8vo. 
pp.29. 

Letters  and  Conversations  on  the  Cherokee  Mission.  By  the  Author 
of  Conversations  on  the  Bombay  Mission.  In  two  volumes.  Boston. 
18mo. 

A  Mariner's  Sketches,  originally  published  in  the  Manufacturer's 
and  Fanners'  Journal,  Providence.    Revised,  Corrected,  and  Enlarged 

VOL.  XXXI. — ^NO.  69.  70 


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550  Niw  PfAtieaiiant.  [Oct. 

by  the  Author.    Providence.    Coiy,  Marshall,  Se,  HamzDond.    12ino. 
pp.312. 

Illastrations  of  the  Atiiememn  GaHeiy  of  Painitixiffs.  Boston.  F.  S. 
HIU.    pp.42. 

A  Dictionary  of  the  English  Language,  abridged  irom  the  Ameri- 
can Dictionary,  for  the  use  of  Primary  Schoou  and  the  Coonting- 
Room.  By  Noah  WebstCr,  LL.D.  New  York.  White,  Gallagher, 
&  White.    IGmo.    1^.596. 

The  Family  Temperance  Meeting.  By  the  Author  of  Teachers' 
Visits.    Boston.    James  Loiing.    18mo. 

Narrative  of  the  Proceedings  of  the  Board  of  Engineers  of  the  Bal- 
timore and  Ohio  Rail  Road  Company,  from  its  organization  to  its  disso- 
lution ;  together  with  an  Exposition  of  Facts  illustrative  of  the  Conduct 
of  sundry  Individuals.  By  Ud.  S.  H.  Long,  and  Capt  William  Gibbs 
McNeil.    Baltimore.    Bailey  &  Dana.    8vo.    pp.  95. 

The  Virginia  Housewife,  or  Methodical  Cook.  By  Mrs.  Mary  Ran- 
d<^h.  'Method  is  the  soul  of  arran^ment.'  Fourth  Edition,  with 
Amendments  and  Additions.  Washmgton.  P.  Thompson.  12mo. 
pp.  186. 

The  Letters  of  Algernon  Sidney,  in  Defence  of  Civil  Liberty,  and 
against  the  Encroachments  of  Military  Despotism.  Written  }yy  an  em- 
inent Citizen  of  Virginia,  and  first  publisned  in  the  Richmond  En- 
quirer, 1818—19.    Richmond.    T.  W.  White.    8vo.    pp.  65. 

An  Elementary  Treatise  on  the  Construction  and  Use  of  Mathemat- 
ical Instruments  usually  put  into  Portable  Cases.  Boston.  Perkins  & 
Marvin.    12mo.    pp.  68. 

A  Nattiural  Histoiy  of  Insects.  Illustrated  witii  Anecdotes  and  nu- 
merous Engravings.    Boston.    Carter  &  Hendee.    18mo.  pp.  107. 

The  Budffet;  or  Humble  Attempts  at  Immor^ty.  By  Messrs.  Von 
Dunderhead.    HaJlowell.    Glazier,  Masters,  &  Co.    12mo.    pp.  199. 

Malvina  Ashton.  By  the  Author  of  *  Letters  and  Conversations  on 
the  Ceylon  Mission.  Boston.  Leonard  W.  KimbalL  18mo.  pp.  88. 
.  A  Lexicon  of  Useful  Knowledge,  for  the  use  of  Schools  and  Stu- 
dents ;  with  several  hundred  Engravings.  By  Uie  Rev.  H.  Wilbur, 
A.  M.    New  York.    White,  Gallagher,  &  White.    12mo.    pp.  295. 

NOVELS  AND  TALES. 

Chronicles  of  the  Cit^  of  Gotham ;  from  the  papers  of  a  retired 
Contfnon  Churchman.  £dited  by  the  Author  of  *  John  Bull  in  Amer- 
ica.'   New  York.    G.  dt  C.  &  H.  CarviU.    12mo.    pp.  27a 

Peter  Parley's  Tiles  about  Africa.  In  one  volume.  Boston.  Gray 
&  Bowen. 

Tales  of  Travels  West  of  the  Mississippi  By  Solomon  Bell.  With 
a  Map  and  nunierous  Engravings.    Boston.    Gray  &  Bowen. 

Camden ;  a  Tale  of  the  South.  In  two  vols.  Philadelphia.  Carey 
&  Lea.  1^0. 

Clarence ;  a  Tale  of  our  own  Times.  By  the  Author  of  *  Hope  Les- 
lie.'   In  two  vols.    Philadelphia.    Carey  &  Lea.    12mo. 

TheVe8tal,oraTaleofPompeiL  In  one  vol.  12mo.  Boston.  Gray 
&  Bowen. 

The  Country  Curate.  By  the  Author  of  *The  Subakem.'  In  two 
vols.    New  York.    J.  &  J.  Harper.    l2mo. 


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1830.]  Mw  PMicatums.  551 

AQftfaonhip ;  a  Tide.  BtaNewEBglaiideKOverSea.  Boolon.  Gmy 
&  Bowen.   ISimo.   ppw  967. 

POETRY. 

Thoughts  on  Education,  in  its  Connexion  with  Morals ;  a  Poem  re- 
cited before  the  Literary  and  Philosophical  Society  of  Hampden  Syd- 
ney College,  Va.    Bv  Daniel  Bryan.    Richmond.  T.  W.  White.  8vo. 

rooms  and  Sketches.  By  James  W.  Miller.  Boston.  Carter  & 
Hendee.    12mo. 

Poems.    By  I.  McLellan,  Jr.    Boston.    Carter  &  Hendee. 

A  New  Collection  of  Psalms  and  Hjrmns,  tor  Public  Worship.  By 
Rev.  P.  W.  P.  Greenwood.    Boston.    Carter  &  Hendee. 

The  Age  of  Print ;  a  Poem  delivered  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  So- 
ciety at  Cambridge,  August  26, 1830.  By  Grenville  Mellen.  Boston. 
Carter  &  Hendee.    8vo.    pp.  38. 

ORATIONS  AND  ADDRESSES. 

A  Discourse  on  the  Advantages  of  Classical  Learning.  With  a 
Sketch  of  the  Character  of  the  late  William  Samuel  Johnson.  Deliv- 
ered before  the  Association  of  the  Alumni  of  Columbia  College^  at  their 
Anniversary,  5th  May,  1830.  By  John  T.  Irving.  New  York.  G.  & 
C.  &  H.  Carvill.    8vo.    pp.  35. 

An  Address  delivered  before  the  Peace  Society  of  Exeter,  N.  H*  at 
their  Annual  Meeting,  April,  1830.  By  Oliver  W,  B.  Peabody.  Exe- 
ter.   Francis  Grant    8vo.    pp.  Id 

An  Address  delivered  at  Ipswich  before  the  Essex  Counly  Lyceum, 
at  their  first  Annual  lifeeting.  May  5,  1830.  By  Daniel  Appleton 
White.    Salem.    Foote  &  Brown.    8vo.    pp.  6Q. 

Addresses  delivered  at  the  Stated  Communication  of  the  Grand 
Chapter  of  Massachusetts,  June  8, 1830.  By  the  Rev.  Samuel  Clarke, 
H.  F.  and  Rev.  Paul  Dean,  G.  G.  K»  Bostpn.  Marsh,  Cap^n  &  Lyon. 
8vo.    pp.  22. 

An  Address  delivered  on  the  28th  of  June,  1830,  the  Anniversary  of 
the  Arrival  of  Governor  Winthrop  at  Charlestown.  By  Edward  Ev- 
erett.   Boston.    Carter  &  Hendee.    8vo.  pp.51. 

A  Decade  of  Addresses,  delivered,  from  1820  tq  1829,  to  the  Senior 
Classes  at  Bowdoin  College ;  together  with  an  Inaugural  Address :  to 
which  is  added,  a  Dudleian  Lecture,  delivered  May  12, 1830,  at  Harvard 
University.  By  William  Allen,  D.  D.  President  of  Bowdoin  College. 
Boston.    Hilliard,  Gray  &  Co.    12mo.    pp.  266. 

An  Oration  delivered  before  the  Phi  Beta  Kappa  Society.  By  O. 
Dewey.    Boston.    Gray  &  Bowen. 

Our  Country.  An  Address  delivered  before  the  Alumni  of  Water- 
ville  College,  July  29,  1830.  By  John  Neal.  Portland.  S.Colman. 
8vo.  pp.  36. 

An  Oration  delivered  at  the  Request  of  the  City  Government,  before 
the  Citizens  of  Boston,  on  the  5th  of  July,  1830.  By  A.  H.  Everett 
Boston.    John  H.  Eastbum.    8vo.  pp.  47. 

An  Address  to  the  Members  of  the  Bar  of  Worcester  County,  Mas- 
sachusetts, October  2,  1829.  By  Joseph  Willard.  Lancaster.  Car- 
ter, Andrews  &  Co,    8vo. 

THEOLOGY. 

An  Exposition  of  the  Principles  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Religion, 


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653  New  PuhUeationi.  [Oct. 

1830,  at  the  Dudleian  Lectare  at  Harvard  tJniveiiity.    Bjr  WiBiuii 
Allen,  D.  D.    Boston.    Pierce  &  Williams.    8vo.    pp.  43. 

A  Scriptural  Answer  to  the  Question,  How  may  I  know  that  I  am  an 
Adopted  Child  of  God.  By  Nathaniel  Dwight  Norwich.  J.  Dun- 
ham.   12mo.    pp.  208. 

Letters  on  Methodism :  or  some  Remarks  on  the  Spirit,  Doctrines, 
Discipline,  Management,  and  General  Influence  of  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church  in  uie  United  States  of  America.    12mo.    pp.  46. 

The  Kingdom  of  Christ:  A  Sermon  preached  before  the  Annual 
Convention  of  the  Congregational  Ministers  of  Massachusetts,  in  Bos- 
ton, May  29, 1830.  By  Heman  Humphrey,  D.  D.  Boston.  Pierce  & 
Williams.    8vo.    pp.36. 

History  of  the  Life  and  Opinions  of  the  Apostle  Paul.  Boston.  Gray 
&  Bowen.    12mo.    pp.  82. 

A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Ordination  of  the  Rev.  William  Newell, 
as  Pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  Cambridge.  By  F.  W.  P.  Greenwood. 
Cambridge.    HiUiard  &  Brown.    8vo.    pp.  40. 

A  Letter  to  William  £.  Channing,  D.  D.  on  the  Subject  of  Religious 
Liberty.  By  Moses  Stuart,  Professor  of  Sacred  Laterature  in  the 
Theological  Seminary,  Andover.  Boston.  Perkins  &  Marvin.  8vo« 
pp.  52. 

A  Sermon  preached  in  the  Church  in  Brattle  Square,  Boston,  August 
1830,  the  Lord's  Day  after  the  Decease  of  the  Hon.  Isaac  PaAer, 
Chief  Justice  of  Massachusetts.  By  John  G.  Palfrey,  A.  M.  Boston. 
Gray  &  Bowen.    8vo.    pp.  32. 

The  Deep  Things  of  me  Gospel.  A  Discourse  delivered  at  the  Or- 
dination of  the  Rev.  George  Putnam,  as  Colleague  Pastor  with  Rev. 
Eliphalet  Porter,  D.  D.  over  the  First  Church  and  Religious  Society 
in  Roxbury,  July  7, 1830.  By  Orville  Dewey.  Gray  &  Bowen.  8vo. 
pp.  32. 

The  History  of  the  Old  South  Church  in  Boston;  in  four  Sermons, 
delivered  May  9th  and  16th,  1830;  beinff  the  first  and  second  Sabbaths 
after  the  completion  of  a  Century  from  Sie  first  occupance  of  the  pres- 
ent Meeting  House.  By  Benjamin  B.  Wisner,  Pastor  of  the  Church. 
Boston.    Crocker  &  Brewster.    8vo.    pp.  122. 

Select  Practical  Theology  of  the  Seventeenth  Century ;  comprising 
the  best  Practical  Works  of  the  great  Elnfflish  Divines,  and  other  con- 
genial Authors  of  that  age,  corrected  and  arranged  with  Biographical 
Sketches  and  occasional  Notes.  By  James  Marsh,  President  of  the 
University  of  Vermont  In  five  volumes.  Burlington.  Chauncey 
Goodrich.    8vo. 

A  Sermon  delivered  at  the  Bennet  Street  Church,  in  behalf  of  the 
American  Colonization  Socie^,  February  4,  1830.  By  Rev.  J.  M. 
Maffit    Boston.    Putnam  &  Hunt    8vo.    pp.  16. 

A  Sermon  delivered  in  St  Paul's  Chapel,  New  York,  July  29, 1830, 
on  occasion  of  the  Fourth  Anniversary  of  the  General  Protestant  Epis- 
copal Sunday  School  Union.  By  Charles  Burroughs.  New  York. 
8vo.    pp.  29. 

Seaman's  Devotional  Assistant,  and  Mariners'  Hymns;  prepared  nn- 
der  direction  of  the  American  Seamen's  Friend  Society.  By  Joshua 
Leavitt    New  York.    18mo.    pp.  512, 


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1830.]  New  PMications.  653 

A  Converaation  on  Human  Depravity.  Boston.  Pierce  Sl  Williams. 
18mo.    pp*  23. 

AMERICAN  EDITIONS  OF  FOREIGN  WORKS. 
Manual  of  Therapeutics.     By  L.  Martinet,  D.  M.  P.     Translated, 
with  alterations  and  additions,  by  Robert  Norton,  M.  D.    New  York. 

C.  S.  Francis.    18mo.    pp.  278. 

Southey^s  Life  of  Nelson.  Family  Library,  No.  6.  Complete  in 
one  volume.    New  York.    J.  &  J.  Harper.    18mo.    pp.  309. 

QBuvres  Chois^es  De  L.  B.  Picard.  New  York.  Charles  De  Bahr. 
18mo.    pp.  292. 

The  Life  and  Actions  of  Alexander  the  Great  By  the  Rev.  J.  Wil- 
liams, A.  M.  Family  Library,  No.  VII.  New  York.  J.  &  J.  Har- 
per.   18mo. 

Elements  of  Dogmatic  History.  By  William  Meunscher,  S.  T.  D. 
Translated  from  the  second  edition  of  the  German.  By  James  Mur- 
dock,D.  D.    New  Haven.    A.  H.  Maltby.    12mo.    pp.  20a 

A  Manual  of  Instruction  for  Infant  Schools.    By  William  Wilson, 

D.  D.    Adapted  for  Infant  Schools  in  the  United  States.    By  H.  W. 
Edwards.    New  York.    G.  &  C.  &  H.  Carvill.    12mo.    pp.222. 

A  Narrative  of  the  Life  of  Miss  Sophia  Leece,  with  a  Selection  of 
her  Letters.  By  Rev.  Hugh  Stowell.  From  the  fourth  London  Edi- 
tion.   Boston.    James  Loring.    18mo.    pp.  106. 

The  Modern  Traveller.  A  Popular  Description,  Geographical,  His- 
torical, and  Topographical,  of  the  various  Countries  of  the  Globe. 
Palestine.    Volume  1.    Boston.    Wells  &  Lilly.    18mo. 

A  Practical  Treatise  on  the  Law  of  Partnership.  By  Neil  Gow, 
Esq.  Second  American,  from  the  second  London  Edition,  with  con- 
siderable Alterations  and  Additions,  and  Notes  and  References  to  Amer- 
ican Decisions.  By  Edward  D.  Ingraham,  Esq.  Philadelphia.  R.  H. 
Small.    8vo. 

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INDEX 


THIRTY-FIRST  VOLUME 


NORTH  AMERICAN  REVIEW. 


Aborigines,  American,  defect  in  the 
common  mode  of  reasoning  on  the 
Bubject  of  their  rights,  397— <eztent 
of  those  lights,  398  et  seq. 

Abrakawites,  account  of,  and  of  the 
conduct  of  Joseph  II.  towards 
them,  18. 

Adams,  John,  his  merit  as  a  writer 
and  statesman,  35. 

Adams,  John  Q.,  allusion  to  his  po- 
litical and  literary  character,  35. 

Addison,  character  and  moral  ten- 
dency of  the  writings  of,  455. 

Ahjned,  his  character  as  a  Sultan,  303. 

Alaibegs,  Turkish,  what,  295. 

Allston,  Mr.,  his  painting  of  The 
Mother  and  Child,  330~its  merit 
and  defect,  335^1andscapes  by, 
335 — excellence  and  style  of,  afi  a 
painter,  334, 335. 

American  Annual  Register  for  1827- 
8-9,  reviewed,  S35^importance 
and  value  of  such  publications, 
and  their  immediate  utility,  285, 
28&— character  of,  286 — import- 
ance of  the  regular  publication  of, 
287 — reason  wny  a  neater  portion 
of,  should  be  allotted  to  the  United 
States,  288 — and  the  general  in- 
terest of  the  topics  regarded,  in 


the  portions  respectively  assigned 
to  them,  289 — ^manner  in  which  it 
is  executed,  and  its  value,  290. 

American  toriters,  sarcastic  enumera- 
tion of,  in  the  Edinburgh  Review, 
33 — several  distinguished  ones 
mentioned,  33  et  seq. 

Ames,  Fisher,  his  speech  on  the  Brit- 
ish treaty  alluded  to,  35— hu  £a- 
logy  on  Hamilton,  35, 100. 

Amurath  I.,  conquest  by,  294. 

Amurath  III.,  character  of,  at  the  be- 
ginning of  his  reign,  302— subse- 
quent change,  303. 

Amurath  IV.,  character  of,  303. 

Ancients,  inferiority  of,  to  the  mod- 
ems in  provision  for  the  indigent 
and  distressed,  66. 

Archer,  Mr.,  his  speech  on  the  New 
Orleans  Road  Bill,  auoted,  467. 

Arenas,  conspiracy  or,  in  Mexico, 
131 — its  importance  exaggerated, 
132 — his  execution,  13^— conse- 
quences of  his  conspiracy,  132, 
133. 

Aristotle,  character  of,  as  a  writer, 
214,215. 

Arts,  effect  and  value  of  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the,  310 — inquiry,  whether 
much  is  gained  by  laborious  and 
repeated  revision  in  the,  327. 


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Index. 


667 


Asylum  for  the  Blind,  66 — articles 
manufactured  W  the  pupils  of,  in 
Scotland,  80 — ^ew  England,  when 
incorporated,  82 — provision  made 
for  it  by  the  State,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  farther  aid,  83,  84. 
'  ^thefUBum  GaUery,  exhibition  of 
paintiners  in,  309 — its  tendency 
and  enect,  309— its  comparative 
merit,  this  year,  311 — Titian's 
Martyrdom  of  St.  Lawrence,  311 — 
its  subject,  312 — Murillo's  Meeting 
of  Rebecca  with  Ahraham's  Servant, 
316— account  of  this  painting, 
317— Pc*  Kitten  by  the  same,  319— 
Laughing  Boy,  by  Gerardo  delle 
Notti,  Jacob  wrestling  with  the  An- 
gel,  by  Domenichino,  View  of  a 
Seaport,  by  Claude  Lorraine — of 
the  Lake  of  Thrasymene,  by  Ver- 
net,  and  paintings  by  Tintoretto, 
Luca  Giordano,  TeAourg,  Van- 
dyck,  Canaletti  and  Sasso-Ferrato, 
3S3— -copy  of  Rubens'  Descent  from 
the  Cross,  by  Brackelaer,  and  ac- 
count of  the  original,  324 — of  Ra- 
phael's Shepherdess  Madonna,  328 
— account  of  the  original,  329 — '■ 
AUston's  paintings,  330 — Hard- 
ing's portrait  of  Chief  Justice  Mar- 
shall, 336. 

Austria,  her  deficiency  in  great 
men,  3. 

B. 

Bates,  Mr.,  his  speech  in  Confess 
on  the  removal  of  the  Indians, 
quoted,  431. 

Beglerbegs  Turkish,  what,  295. 

Bentham,  Mr.,  his  greatest  happiness 
principle  not  original,  235. 

Benton,  Mr.,  his  remarks  in  reply  to 
Mr.  Webster,  in  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States,  quoted,  479. 

Btacfdock,  descriptive  poetry  of,  69. 

Blacku}ood*s  Magazine,  extract  from, 
and  comments  thereon,  26,  27, 
note. 

Blind,  provision  for  the  instruction 
of,  of  recent  date,  66 — reasons 
why  it  was  not  made  earlier,  67 — 
anecdotes  of,  69  et  seq. — to  what 
extent  certain  senses  of,  may  be 
improved,  70  et  seq. — what  is  ne- 
cessary in  order  to  educate,  73 — 
some  account  of  the  Edinburgh 
and  Paris  Institutions  for  the  in- 
struction of,  76  et  seq. — New  Eng- 
VOL.  XXXI, NO.  69, 


land  Asylum  for,  82 — estimate  of 
the  number  of,  in  Massachusetts, 
82. 

Blindness,  favorable  to  contemplative 
habits,  67 — to  the  discipline  of  the 
memory,  67, 68 — to  the  exercise  of 
the  inventive  powers,  69 — not  un- 
favorable to  devotional  sentiment, 
75— a  less  calamity  than  deafness, 
and  why,  75. 

Bonaparte,  Dr.  Channing's  analysis 
of  the  character  of,  defended,  47 
et  seq. 

Bossuet,  his  excellence  as  a  funeral 
orator,  98. 

Bowditch,  Dr.  merit  of,  as  a  mathe- 
matician, 34. 

Brackelaer,  copy  of  Rubens'  Descent 
from  the  Cross  by,  noticed,  324. 

Bravo,  Nicholas,  Vice  President  of 
the  Mexican  States,  136 — his  char- 
acter, and  connexion  with  the  re- 
volt of  Otumba,  137 — his  convic- 
tion and  banishment,  138 — his  con- 
duct censured,  139. 

British  Criticism,  tone  of,  in  regard 
to  this  country,  26  et  seq. — reason 
why  it  should  be  liberal  and  manly, 
28— its  effect,  29. 

Buckminster,  Mr.  his  character  as  a 
writer,  36-— his  funeral  sermon  on 
the  death  of  Mr.  Bowdoin,  101. 

Bulletin  Universd,  short  account  of, 
90,  note. 

Burns,  Robert,  his  character  and  fate, 
457. 

Bustamente,  Anastasio,  becomes  Vice 
President  of  the  Mexican  Statesj 
146 — his  elevation  to  the  supreme 
authority,  150. 

Byron,  Lady,  her  account  of  her  sep- 
aration from  Lord  Byron,  194 — his 
letter  concerning  her,  quoted,  195. 

Byron,  Lord,  public  sentiment  in  re- 
gard to,  169^— character  of,  170  et 
seq. — fate  of,  an  example  of  the  in- 
dulgence shown  to  genius,  171 — 
poetical  power  of,  173 — his  want 
of  early  kindness  and  instruction, 
175,  176— effect  of  this,  177— cau- 
ses of  his  melancholy,  179 — not  to 
be  attributed  to  his  poetical  talent, 
180 — his  infidelity,  184 — his  con- 
duct towards  the  Edinburgh  Re- 
view, 186 — effects  of  travel,  upon, 
189 — situation  of,  on  his  return 
from  his  first  travels,  191 — effect 

71 


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Index* 


of  the  pabHcation  of  hia  Childe 
Harold,  193 — ^his  marriage,  194— 
and  separation^  195 — his  letter  to 
Lady  Byron,  quoted,  195 — ^his  let- 
ter concerning  her,  quoted,  196 — 
character  of  his  writings,  197, 198 
— his  shorter  poems  the  best,  199 — 
allusion  to  his  character,  456. 

C. 

Calhoun,  Mr.  treaty  with  the  Chero- 
kees  negotiated  by,  424. 

CiUlejaj  his  military  talent,  114. 

CsmpbeU,  poetry  of,  alluded  to,  328 
— its  character,  457. 

Canalettif  Views  of  Venice  by,  no- 
ticed, 323. 

Central  form  of  government  in  Mex- 
ico, reasons  in  favor  of,  119. 

Channing,  Dr.  his  literary  and  pri- 
vate character,  37,  38 — ^his  Essay 
on  Milton,  40 — manner  in  which 
he  is  criticised  in  the  Edinburgh 
Keview,  40,  41 — injustice  of  its 
charges,  46, 47 — his  analysis  of  the 
character  of  Bonaparte,  examined 
and  defended,  47  et  seq. 

Charles  II.  literary  character  of  the 
age  of,  447. 

Charles  V.  anecdotes  of,  4. 

Charters  J  royal,  uses  of,  402 — what  is 
properly  implied  in  the  giving  and 
receiving  of,  403 — extravagance  of 
pretensions  advanced  junder,  404 
— reasons  for  believing  that  the 
Inilians  were  not  deprived  of  their 
lands  under,  405. 

Chaucer,  allusion  to  the  poetry  of, 
444,  448. 

Ckeever's  Studies  in  Poetry j  reviewed, 
442 — character  of,  459. 

Cherokees,  their  treaty  of  Hopewell 
with  the  United  States,  examined, 
418 — treaty  of  Holston  and  other 
treaties  with,  noticed,  423 — of  the 
various  obligations  of  Georgia,  not 
to  take  possession  of  the  lands  of, 
429^-conduct  of  Georgia  towards, 
illustrated  by  a  parallel  case,  433. 

Chcseldeny  story  related  by,  of  a  blind 
boy,  72. 

Christian  Fathers,  merit  of  the  fiine- 
ral  discouises  of,  98. 

Church  and  State,  tendency  of  the 
suspension  of  Sunday  mails  to  ef- 
fect a  union  between,  considered, 
159. 


Claude  Lorraine,  view  of  a  Sea-pott 
by,  noticed,  323. 

Collins,  his  Oriental  Eclogues  quoted, 
340. 

Constitution,  of  Mexico,  118  et  seq. 
— of  the  United  States,  how  form- 
ed, and  the  division  of  powers  un-  • 
der  it,  538 — questions  arising  un- 
der, how  determined,  485,  et  seq. 
— opinion  of  Mr.  Madison  on  this 
subject,  541. 

Cooper,  Mr.  (the  novelist)  tone  of 
the  Edinburgh  Review  towards,  38. 

Cordova,  character  of  the  convention 
of,  and  its  eflfect,  117. 

Cotton  Mather,  his  writings  alluded 
to,  100. 

Covyper,  short  sketch  of  the  charac- 
ter of  his  writings,  456. 

Coxe,  story  related  by,  of  Joseph  II. 
24. 

Creeks,  treaty  between  the  United 
States  and,  how  negotiated  and 
ratified,  422. 

Criticism,  effect  of  illiberal,  upon 
genius,  42 — Villemain's  Discourse 
upon,  95 — some  of  the  common 
objections  to,  unfounded,  95,  96. 

Croly,  his  description  of  the  temple 
at  Jerusalem,  quoted,  351. 

Cudworth,  views  of,  on  the  nature  of 
the  faculty  by  which  the  moral 
qualities  of  actions  are  recognized, 
in  reply  to  Hobbes,  241,  242— his 
theory  indirectly  refuted  by  Locke, 
242,  243- — his  views  generally 
adopted  by  Stewart,  244 — ^their  de- 
fect pointed  out,  246  et  seq. — 
quotation,  from,  250,  255. 


Dallas,  Mr.  his  agency  in  the  publi- 
cation of  Childe  Harold,  190, 191. 

David,  King,  influence  of  his  char- 
acter and  acts  upon  the  Jews,  345. 

Deaf  and  Dumb,  no  provision  made 
for  their  instruction  until  recently, 
66 — reason  of  this,  67. 

Debate,  in  Congress,  its  general 
purpose,  462— -r resident's  speech 
made  the  subject  of,  until  the  form 
of  communication  with  Congress 
was  changed  by  Mr.  Jefferson, 
463 — character  of,  upon  the  ju- 
diciary, in  1801 — in  the  Senate  at 
the  last  session  upon  Mr.  Foot's 
resolution^  of  uncommon  interest 


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550 


— occasion  which  led  to  it,  465  et 
seq. 

Ddawart  IndianSy  their  treaty  of 
1778  with  the  United  States,  418. 

Diderot,  account  of  his  visit  to  a 
blind  man,  71. 

Discovery,  title  hj,  397  et  seq. 

Dissertations  on  the  History  of  Phi- 
losophy, Stewan's,  their  merit, 
223. 

Domenickifio,  painting  by,  of  Jacob 
fcrestling  with  the  Angd,  323. 

Drama,  superiority  of  the  English, 
in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  445 — 
moral  influence  of,  450. 

Drayton,  Col.  his  view  of  the  nulli- 
fying doctrine,  quoted,  493 — his 
speech  on  the  subject  of  separation 
of  the  States,  quoted,  535. 

Dryden,  influence  of  the  court  upon, 
447 — moral  character  of  his  wri- 
tings, 452,  453. 

DueUtn^,  opinion  of  Joseph  II.  upon, 
7. 

Dwight,  Dr.  circumstance  related  by, 
in  regard  to  the  purchase  of  lands 
by  our  ancestors  of  the  Indians, 
414. 

E. 

Echdvarri,  General,  his  arrest  and 
banishment  from  Mexico,  132. 

Edinburgh  Review,  aiticle  contained 
in  the  ninety-ninth  number  of,  on 
the  subject  of  American  literature, 
32 — tone  and  character  of  the  arti- 
cle, 32,  33 — its  illiberality  and  in- 
juKtice,  42  et  seq. — its  geneml  spec- 
ulations on  the  subject  of  Bona- 
parte, 55-4ts  attack  on  Lord  By- 
ron, 186. 

Edinburgh  Scotsman,  its  opinion  of 
the  North  American  Review,  quot- 
ed, 57 — and  examined,  59  et  seq. 

Edinburffh  School  of  moral  and  intel- 
lectual philosophy,  origin  of,  219 
— failure  in  the  accorapushment  of 
its  object,  220. 

Elizabeth,  Queen,  character  of  the 
age  of,  445. 

Elliott,  Stephen,  allusion  to  his  char- 
acter, 529. 

English  Literature,  general  neglect 
of,  459. 

English  Poetry,  short  sketch  of  its 
history,  444  et  seq. 

English  Writers f  early  character  of, 


and  causes  of  their  superiority, 
368. 

Escoces  Party  in  Mexico,  character 
and  composition  of,  130 — how  far 
concerned  in  the  insurrection  of 
Otumba,  139 — its  success  in  the 
elections  of  1828,  140 — ^its  over- 
throw, 146. 

Escurial,  convent  of  the,  account  of 
its  erection,  and  style  of  architec- 
ture, 313 — Raphael's  Pearl,  and 
Madonna  de  la  Pez  in,  noticed,  and 
the  subject  of  the  latter  explained, 
314 — ^Titian's  Glory  in,  its  subject, 
315 — ^his  St  Catherine  in,  its  ex- 
cellence, 315,  316. 

Euler,  his  labors  after  he  became 
blind,  68,  69. 

F. 

Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  description  of, 
quoted  from  the  Tales  of  the  North- 
west, 209. 

Ferussac,  Baron  de,  his  letter  to  the 
German  Association  of  Naturalists 
and  Physicians,  quoted,  90,  91. 

Fisher,  Dr.  his  exertions  in  establish- 
ing the  Asylum  for  the  Blind,  82. 

Foot,  Mr.  his  Resolution  respecting 
the  Public  Lands,  473 — ^how  mod- 
ified, 474— course  taken  in  remd 
to,  475  et  seq.— disposition  made  of 
it,  486. 

Frederic  II.  of  Prussia,  letter  of  Jo- 
seph ir.  to,  8 — anecdote  of,  24 — 
influence  of  the  example  of,  on  Jo- 
seph II.  24. 

Funeral  Oration,  Mr.  Villemain's 
Discourse  upon,  97 — ancient  char- 
acter of,  and  its  decline,  98 — char- 
acter of  the  Enfflish,  as  contrasted 
with  the  French,  99— the  French, 
not  adapted  to  English  and  Amer- 
ican taste,  99— examples  of  the 
American,  noticed,  100. 

G. 

Gaies  if  Seaton,  Register  of  Debatef 
in  Congress  by,  its  value,  290. 

Gait's  Lawrie  Todd,  reviewed,  380 
— and  quoted,  383  et  seq. 

Geography,  Hale's,  reviewed,  460. 

Georgia,  protest  of,  against  the  treaty 
of  Hopewell,  419— extent  of  tl;e 
just  claim  of,  under  the  compact 
of  1802j  426— effect  of  that  com- 
pact, 427— her  law  of  1827,  in  re- 


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Indew.' 


gard  to  the  Cherokee8,4S9--of  the 
various  obligations  by  which  she 
has  bound  herself  not  to  take  for- 
cible possession  of  the  lands  of  the 
Indians,  429  et  seq. — her  conduct 
towards  the  Cherokees  illustrated 
by  a  parallel  case,  433. 

Gerardo  delle  JCottij  peculiar  talent 
of,  and  painting  of  the  Laughing 
Boy  by,  323. 

German  Association  of  Naturalists 
and  Physicians,  character  of,  and 
causes  of  its  institution,  87,  88 — 
constitution  of,  89,  90 — account  of 
the  meeting  and  organization  of,  at 
Heidelberg,  in  18^,  91,  92— and 
at  Berlin,  m  1828,  92,  93. 

Giordano  Luca,  painting  of  St.  An- 
thony by,  noticed,  323. 

Goethe f  lines  of,  quoted,  92. 

Grand  Vizier y  Turkish  institution  of, 
304. 

Greeks,  character  of,  as  compared 
with  the  Turks,  308. 

Greenoughj  marble  busts  by,  and 
promise  of,  as  a  sculptor,  337. 

Griesbach's  New  Testament,  care 
with  which  it  was  prepared,  267 — 
its  superiority  to  that  of  Knapp, 
268  et  seq — ^its  general  excellence, 
274. 

Grimke,  Thomas,  his  speech  in  re- 
gard to  the  tariff  and  State  sove- 

.    reignty,  quoted,  498. 

Guerrero,  Gen.  Vicente,  becomes  a 

.  candidate  for  the  Presidency  in 
Mexico,  and  is  hot  elected,  140 — 
becomes  a  leader  of  the   discon- 

.  tented  party,  144 — is  proclaimed 
President,  146— is  invested  with 
extraordinary  powers,  at  the  Span- 
ish invasion,  149, — abdicates  his 
office,  150. 

ChdUiey  M.  example  given  by,  of  the 
association  of  ideas,  in  regard  to 
colors,  in  a  blind  pupil,  69 — and  of 
the  power  of  distinguishing  colors 

i  by  the  touch,  71 — success  of  the 
efforts  of,  to  instruct  the  blind,  76. 

H. 

Hale,  Nathan,  Epitome  of  Universal 
Geography  by,  reviewed,  460— his 
new  method  of  printing  maps,  461. 

HandUon,  Alexander,  allusion  to,  36 
— and  to  Fisher  Ames*  Eulognr  of 

.   him,  35, 100. 


Hammer,  Joseph  Von,  his  History  of 
the  Ottoman  Empire,  and  consti- 
tution and  administration  of  the 
Ottoman  Empire,  291 — ^notice  of 
him,  and  of  his  works,  293,  294. 

Hardinff,  portrait  of  Chief  Justice 
Marshall  by,  noticed,  336. 

Havy,  the  first  to  open  a  seminary 
for  the  instruction  of  the  blind,  76 
— institution  of,  improved,  76. 

Hayne,  Mr.  extract  from  the  first 
speech  of,  on  Mr  Foot's  resolu- 
tion, 475 — general  view  of  his  first 
speech,  in  reply  to  Mr.  Webster, 
480 — ^the  concluding  passage,  quot- 
ed, 481,  482— his  speech  at  the 
State  Rights'  dinner,  quoted,  488 
— his  view  of  the  nullifying  doc- 
trine, quoted,  492 — his  second 
speech  quoted,  on  the  right  of  the 
States  to  determine  the  limits  of 
their  owni  powers,  514 — his  zeal 
and  ability  in  urging  the  passage 
of  a  bankrupt  law,  523. 

Hebrews,  notice  of  the  history  and 
character  of,  341  et  seq. — ^influence 
of  the  Scriptures,  and  of  their  sa- 
cred and  civil  constitution,  upon 
the  character  of,  347 — celebration 
of  nuptials  among,  and  >the  sacred 
seasons  of,  348 — festivals  of,  how 
observed,  349 — priesthood  of,  and 
character  of  the  worship  of,  350 — 
account  of  the  temple  of,  351 — ^in- 
fluence of  the  climate  and  scenery 
of  Palestine  upon  the  poetry  of, 
352 — influence  of  their  modes  of 
life  upon,  355 — peculiar  construc- 
tion of  the  language  of,  favorable 
to  poetry,  364 — necessity  of  an  ac- 
curate knowledge  of  the  peculiar- 
ities of,  to  enable  the  student  to 
appreciate  the  excellence  of  the 
Sacred  Poets,  365. 

Herder,  his  opinion  of  the  Hebrew 
language,  quoted,  364 — his  merit 
as  a  Hebrew  scholar,  374. 

Hidalgo,  his  insurrection,  and  its  re- 
sult, 114. 

HopeweU,  account  of  the  treaty  of, 
418 — its  fair  construction,  419. 

Humboldt,  Alexander  Von,  his  re- 
mark in  regard  to  the  ancients, 
auoted,  88 — ^merit  of  his  address  to 
ie  German  Association  of  Natu* 
ralists  and  Physicians,  92. 


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561 


Hume,  his  philosophical  character. 
213. 

HutchesoTij  his  theory  of  a  moral 
sense,  244 — partially  adopted  by 
Stewart,  24^A— reasons  of  its  fal- 
lacy, 245,  246. 

Uutchinsorij  his  history  of  Massachu- 
setts referred  to,  in  proof  of  the  lib- 
eral conduct  of  the  early  settlers 
towards  the  Indians,  40G. 

I. 

Igualuj  effect  of  the  convention  of, 
117 — provisions  made  in  it,  133. 

Illinois^  memorial  of,  calling  for  a 
change  in  the  mode  of  disposing  of 
public  lands,  46C — and  questioning 
the  title  of  the  United  States,  467. 

Indiana^  resolution  of,  claiming  the 
exclusive  title  to  the  unappropri- 
ated land  within  her  limits,  467. 

Indians,  general  interest  in  the  ques- 
tion of  the  removal  of,  396 — causes 
of  error  upon  the  subject  of  the 
rights  of,  397 — the  riffhts  of,  ex- 
plained, in  relation  to  Oie  rights  of 
discoverers  to  the  lands  of  this  con- 
tinent, 397, 398 — practical  illustra- 
tion of  the  limits  of  the  rights  of, 
398, 399 — instances  in  which  lands 
were  purchased  of,  405,  406— ac- 
knowledgment of  the  rights  of,  by 
our  fathers,  406 — treaties  made 
with,  at  an  early  period,  408 — true 
construction  of  the  opinion  of  the 
Supreme  Court  of  the  United 
States  in  regard  to  the  title  by  dis- 
covery of  European  sovereigns  to 
the  lands  of,  409 — asseition  exam- 
ined, that  the  mode  in  which  lands 
were  purchased  of,  was  equivalent 
to  a  denial  of  their  title,  411 — of 
treaties  with  the,  417 — with  the 
Six  Nations,  417 — with  the  Dela- 
wares  and  Cherokees,  418 — with 
the  Creeks,  422— of  Holston,  with 
the  Cherokees,  423 — intercourse 
laws  with  the,  423 — ^latest  trea- 
ties with  the  Cherokees,  424 — 
claims  of  Georgia  against,  stated, 
425— conduct  of  Georgia  towards, 
illustrated  by  a  parallel  case,  433 
— ^before  advising  the  removal  of, 
what  should  be  done,  439 — general 
character  of  the  speeches  on  the 
removal  of,  in  Congress,  442. 

Irving^  Mr.  tone  of  the  ninety-ninth 


number  of  the  Edinburgh  Review 
in  regard  to,  37 — inconsistency  of 
its  charges  with  fact,  44,  45. 
Iturhide,  his  policy  as  a  leader  in 
Mexico,  117. 

J. 

Janissaries,  education  of,  among  the 
Turks,  297 — discipline  and  charac- 
ter of,  298 — their  mode  of  life  in 
the  field,  299 — change  in  their  cus- 
toms, 302 — attempt  of  Amurath 
IV.  to  restore  their  discipline  un- 
successful, 303 — their  turbulence 
and  degeneracy,  305— their  de- 
struction by  the  present  Sultan, 
308. 

Jay,  Mr.  allusion  to,  36. 

Jefferson,  Mr.  his  remark  on  the 
Kings  of  Europe,  1 — cause  assign- 
ed by  him  of  the  superiority  of  the 
Turkish  sovereigns,  3 — his  excel- 
lence as  a  writer,  34 — form  of  the 
President's  annual  communication 
to  Congress  changed  by  him,  463 
— his  letter  to  Congress  on  the 
subject  quoted,  463,  note — his  pol- 
icy in  regard  to  the  West,  470 — 
Kentucky  Resolutions  ascribed  to 
him,  493— never  probably  main- 
tained, that  the  tariff  was  uncon- 
stitutional, 501 — his  letter  to  Mr. 
Nicholas  quoted,  504. 

Jesuits,  letter  of  Joseph  II.  respect* 
ing,  '7,  8. 

Jews,  the  condition  of  improved  by 
Joseph  II.  in  the  Austrian  domin- 
ions, 18,  19 — [See  Hebrews.] 

Johnson,  Col.  report  on  tlie  subject 
of  Sunday  Mails  in  the  House  of 
Representatives  in  Congress,  at- 
tributed to  him,  156. 

Johnston,  Mr.  of  Louisiana,  his  speech 
on  Foot's  resolution,  quoted,  502. 

Jordaens,  painting  by,  noticed,  314 

Joseph  II.  private  letters  of^  1 — his 
letters  to  the  Grand  Chancellor  of 
the  Empire,  to  Charles,  Prince  of 
Balthyan,  and  to  one  of  his  Gene- 
rals, quoted,  6 — to  the  Duke  de 
Choiseul,  7,  9 — to  the  Count  de 
Aranda  and  Frederic  II.  8 — to  one 
of  his  friends  and  the  Archbishop 
of  Salzburg,  9 — to  Cardinal  Her- 
zan,  10 — to  Van  Swieten,  11 — to 
his  youngest  brother,  the  Magis- 
trates of  Buda,  and  the  Chancellor 


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of  Hungary^  13— to  a  lady,  13— to 
one  of  his  friends,  14— character 
of  his  administration,  14,  15— 
causes  of  his  ill  success,  15  et  seq. 
— his  mode  of  toleration,  17,  18-— 
his  controversy  with  the  Pope,  19 
— his  policy  towards  other  States, 
20 — ^his  education ,  21 — his  personal 
habits,  22 — anecdotes  concerning 
him,  23,  24 — his  unhappiness  at 
the  close  of  life,  25,  26. 
Jtibileef  how  celebrated  among  the 
Jews,  349. 

K. 

Kentucky  Resolutions  of  1798,  no  sup- 
port given  by,  to  the  nullifying 
doctrine,  49iV--ascribed  to  Mr. 
Jefferson,  493 — their  true  con- 
struction, 502— of  1799,  probably 
not  drawn  by  Mr.  Jefferson,  503 
— extracts  from  his  letter  to  Mr. 
Nicholas  in  proof  of  this,  504 — 
conclusion  of  the  resolution  quoted, 
to  show  that  it  gives  no  support  to 
the  nullifying  doctrine,  505. 

Klapstockj  extract  from  an  ode  by, 
Id,  note. 

Knappf  version  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment by,  compared  with  Gries- 
bach*s,  268  et  seq. 


Lascaris,  Villemain's,  reviewed  and 
quoted,  102  et  seq. 

Lawrie  Todd,  Gait  s,  character  of, 
380— outline  of  the  story,  381  et 
seq. — quotations  from,  383  et  seq 

Lectures,  benefits  arising  from  the 
publicity  of,  and  free  admission  to, 
94. 

London  Literary  Gazette,  its  charac- 
ter, 28,  note. 

Lowth,  Lectures  of,  337 — his  merit, 
in  giving  the  first  impulse  to  the 
study  of  Hebrew  poetry,  366 — ^his 
qualifications  for  the  task,  367 — 
cause  of  his  selecting  this  subject, 
869 — his  object  in  the  selection, 
and  execution  of  his  plan,  369 — 
character  and  reception  of  his  lec- 
tures, 371 — his  latin  style,  378 — 
Michaelis'  edition  of  his  lectures, 
372 — his  translation  of  Isaiah,  376 
— his  grammar,  377 — his  private 
character,   377 — his  writings  too 

.  much  neglected  by  his  country- 
men, 379. 


M. 

Madison,  Mr.  Virginia  Resolutions 
ascribed  to,  493---hi8  Virginia  re- 
port, quoted,  495,  496 — his  letter 
on  the  nullifying  doctrine,  537  et 
seq. 

Mahometanism,  not  unfavorable  to 
the  progress  of  civilisation,  300. 

Maps,  new  method  of  printing,  no- 
ticed, 461. 

Maria  Theresa,  Empress  of  Austria, 
character  of,  4 — anecdote  of,  16. 

Mc  Duffie,  Mr.  his  speech  on  the 
Prohibitory  System,  quoted,  488, 
489 — his  pamphlet  on  the  subject 
of  National  and  State  rights,  quot- 
ed, 524, 526. 

Mehmed,  Grand  Vizier,  his  charac- 
ter, 446. 

Metaphysical  Poets,  account  of,  448. 

Mexico,  view  of  the  condition  and 
prospects  of  the  republic  of,  110 
et  seq. — difficult  to  predict  in  re- 
gard to  the  future  situation  of,,lll 
— change  of  feeling  in  regard  to, 
112 — ^and  causes  of  the  change, 
113— character  of  the  revolution- 
ary contest  in,  and  short  sketch  of 
it,  114  et  seq. — effect  of  the  con- 
ventions of  Iguala  and  Cordova  in, 
117 — history  of  parties  in,  118  et 
seq. — federal  form  of  government 
adopted  in,  118,  119— difference 
between  the  situation  of,  and  that 
of  the  United  States,  and  reasons 
why  the  central  form  would  have 
been  preferable,  119,  120 — differ- 
ence between  the  €ituation  of,  and 
that  of  Columbia,  121 — character 
of  the  constitution  of,  122 — colli- 
sion between  the  State  and  federa- 
tive powers,  123,  124, 125— injus- 
tice of  comparing  parties  in,  with 
the  federalists  and  democrats  of 
the  United  States,  12&— contest  at 
the  first  election  of  President  in, 
and  difficult  situation  of  the  Presi- 
dent Victoria,  128 — his  policy,  129 
connexion  of  parties  in,  with  ma- 
sonic associations,  12.) — conspiracy 
of  Arenas,  131 — ^its  fate  and  con- 
sequences, 132 — engagements  of 
Mexico  to  the  Spanish  residents, 
133 — her  violation  of  those  engage- 
ments, 134 — its  impolicy  and  its 
effect,  135 — revolt  of  Otumba,  136 
— ^its  termination,  138 — contest  for 
the  Presidency  between  Guerrero 


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and  Pedraza,  and  election  of  Pe- 
draza,  140 — appearance  of  Santa 
Ana  upon  the  stage,  and  his  re- 
bellion in  Vera  Cruz,  141 — VictJo- 
ria's  proclamation  against  him, 
quoted,  141 — Zavala  arrested  on 
suspicion,  and  reasons  for  believ- 
ing him  implicated  with  the  insur- 
gents,  143— -pillage  of  the  city  of 
Mexico,  capitulation  and  retire- 
ment of  Pedraza,  and  elevation  of 
Guerrero  to  the  Presidency  bv  the 
Conffresi^,  146 — character  of  this 
revolution,  147 — decline  of  the 
country  under  the  new  adminis- 
tration, and  occurrence  of  the 
Spanish  invasion,  148 — resigna- 
tion of  Guerrero  and  downfall  of 
the  Yorkino  party,  149 — difficulty 
in  explaining  this  change,  150 — 
character  of  the  army,  to  which 
this  revolution  was  probably  ow- 
ing, 151 — want  of  sound  political 
sentiment  in,  153 — policy  which 
ought  now  to  be  pursued,  154. 

MUhaeliSj  his  edition  of  Lowth's 
Lectures,  372— description  of  his 
mode  of  lecturing,  by  Schultz,  373. 

MillSj  Philosophy  of  Mind  by,  no- 
ticed, 23d. 

Milton,  Villemain's  discourse  upon, 
101 —character  of  his  controversial 
writings,  102  et  seq. — his  study  of 
the  Sacred  Poets,  338 — moral  in- 
fluence of  his  poetry,  451. 

Modems,  their  superiority  to  the  an- 
cients in  providing  for  the  relief  of 
indigence  and  distress,  (jQ. 

Monarchies,  less  favorable  than  re- 
publics to  the  developement  of  tal- 
ent, 1,  2. 

Montana,  Col.  his  agency  in  the  re- 
volt of  Otumba,  137. 

Moore,  Thomas,  his  Life  of  Byron 
reviewed,  167 — character  of  the 
work,  171 — its  faults,  199 — ^moral 
tone  of  his  poetry,  457. 

Moral  influence  of  English  poetry, 
448  et  seq. 

Moral  Obligation,  Stewart's  views  re- 
specting, quoted,  262,  263 — and 
examined,  264,  et  seq. 

Morelos,  his  character,  115 — ill  suc- 
cess of  his  attempt  to  organize  a 
government  in  Mexico,  and  his 
fate,  116. 

Moses,  influence  of  the  character  of,^ 
among  the  Jews,  344. 


Mozart,  anecdote  of,  22. 

Murillo,  paintings  by,  in  the  Athe- 
nseum  Gallery,  317 — his  merit  lit- 
tle known  in  England,  317 — his 
painting  of  Moses  striking  the  Rock, 
and  his  peculiar  style,  318 — his 
Infant  Saviour  and  Infant  Baptist^ 
his  Pet  Kitten,  319 — his  Roman 
Charity,  319 — anecdote  concern- 
ing it,  320. 

Museum  at  Madrid,  painting  in  the, 
314,  316 — its  catalogue  quoted, 
320, 3*21,  322— -painting  by  Rubens 
in,  325. 

Mustapha,  son  of  Solyman  II.  account 
of,  301. 

Mustapha,  brother  of  Ahmed,  twice 
made  Sultan,  and  twice  deposed, 
306. 

Jfegrete,  Gen.  his  arrest  and  banish- 
ment from  Mexico,  132. 

Jiew  England,  charged  with  hostili- 
ty to  the  West,  470— Mr.  Web- 
ster's remarks  upon  that  subject, 
476. 

JVeio  Testament,  in  the  Common  Ver- 
sion, conformed  to  Griesbach's 
text,  reviewed,  267 — design  of  the 
editor,  274. 

JVorth  American  Review,  article  res- 
pecting, quoted  fiom  the  Edin- 
burgh Scotsman,  57 — ^reply  to  the 
charge,  that  it  is  deficient  in  Amer- 
'  lean  feeling,  63. 

J^orth  Carolina,  protest  of,  against 
the  Treaty  of  Hopewell,  noticed, 
419. 

JVovels,  general  character  of,  at  this 
day,  444. 

Kvlltficaiion,  inquiry  as  to  what  is 
intended  by  the  right  of,  488 — Mr. 
Hayne's  statement  of  the  doctrine 
of,  492— Col.  Drayton's,  493— not 
supported  by  the  Virginia  and 
Kentucky  Resolutions,  493,  494 — 
cases  of,  which  have  occurred,  or 
may  occur,  51 8 — power  of,  its  bear- 
ing on  the  question  of  a  declara- 
tion of  war,  520 — ^might  be  made 
to  apply  to  every  function  of  gov- 
ernment, 521. 

O. 

Occupancy,  lawful,  the  great  original 

title  to  land,  401. 
Oken,  Professor,  short  notice  of,  88 — 

note. 


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Olmstead^a   case,  in    tl^e    Supreme 

Court  of  the  United  States,  ac- 
count of,  507. 

Ottoman  Empire,  causes  of  the  de- 
cline of,  to  be  found  in  the  cause 
of  its  ascendency,  292 — little  in- 
formation on  the  subject  of,  to  be 
derived  from  native  writers,  292 — 
its  origin,  as  described  in  Turkish 
tradition,  and  its  rapid  increase, 
294 — ^its  feudal  system,  295— effi- 
ciency of  that  system,  when  com- 
pared with  that  of  Western  Eu- 
rope, and  its  organized  system  of 
slavery,  296 — education  of.  the 
Janissaries  in,  29G,  297 — ^manner 
in  which  its  power  was  vested, 
299 — the  causes  of  its  decline, 
300 — Character  of  its  Sultans, 
301 — Violation  of  its  customs  by 
Solyman  II.,  301 — character  of 
its  sultans  Selim  II.  and  Amurath 
III.  302 — degeneracy  of  its  system 
of  government — 305 — its  decline 
to  be  traced  from  the  rei^n  of  Soly- 
man, 307 — ^mode  in  which  its  do- 
minion was  established  in  con- 
quered countries,  308. 

Otumba,  revolt  of,  137 — its  suppres- 
sion, and  probable  object,  138. 

P. 

Painters f  our  native,  their  number 
and  excellence,  3l30 — remarks  up- 
on the  works  and  style  of  some, 
331. 

Palestine f  climate  and  scenery  of, 
353. 

Palexfy  Moral  Philosophy  by,  its  char- 
acter, 225 — his  error  in  regard  to 
the  selfish  system,  236 — quota- 
tions from,  237,  239. 

ParTy  Or.  his  opinion  of  Dugald 
Stewart,  213. 

Parties,  in  Mexico,  history  of,  118  et 
seq. — Centralists  and  Federalists, 
what,  118,  119 — unjustly  com- 
pared with  parties  in  the  United 
States,  126 — their  connexion  with 
masonic  associations,  and  origin  of 
their  respective  appellations,  129 — 
character  of,  130- — contests  be- 
tween, 131  et  seq. — effect  of  the 
Spanish  invasion  upon,  149 — pres- 
ent state  of,  150  et  seq. 

Payton  Skah,  a  Tale  of  the  North- 
west, quoted,  201  et  seq. 


Pedraza,  Gnomez,  his  agency  in  the 
suppression  of  the  revolt  of  Otum- 
ba,  138 — his  contest  with  Guerrero 
for  the  presidency,  and  his  elec- 
tion, 140 — effect  of  his  election, 
141 — capitulation  with  the  insur- 
gents, 145^iis  abdication,  146. 

Pennsylvania  Resolutions,  in  OUn- 
stead's  case,  quoted,  507 — dis- 
approved by  Virginia  and  nine 
other  States,  509. 

PcTUateuch,  its  excellence,  343. 

Persian  Letters  quoted,  39. 

Philosophy  of  the  Moral  and  Active 
Powers  of  Man,  Stewart's,  review- 
ed, 213— of  the  Mind,  Stewart's, 
its  character,  213. 

Pictures,  exhibition  of,  at  the  Athe- 
neeum  Gallery,  and  the  effect  of 
such  exhibitions  upon  public  taste 
and  character,  309. 

Pius  VI.,  his  journey  to  Vienna,  19. 

Plalo,  his  Republic  alluded  to,  215. 

Politics  of  Mexico,  (see  Mexico) 

Pope,  Alexander,  Villemain's  char- 
acter of  Uie  writings  of,  108 — title 
of,  to  the  poetical  name,  109 — ver- 
sification of,  110 — moral  influence 
of  the  poetry  of,  453. 

Post  Office  department,  difference  be- 
tween its  practice  and  that  of  the 
other  branches  of  government  in 
regard  to  the  Sabbath,  155 — defect 
in  the  reasoning  of  the  Commit- 
tee of  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives on  this  subject,  157. 

Pregadi,  council  of,  292. 

Protest,  right  of,  on  the  part  of  the 
States,  against  acts  of  the  Gene- 
ral Government,  489 — questiona- 
ble, 490. 

Prussia,  its  situation  at  the  accession 
of  Frederic  II.  compared  with  that 
of  Austria  under  Joseph  II.  25. 

Public  Lands,  the  quantity  of,  465— 
question  relating  to,  very  momen- 
tous and  delicate,  and  why,  466— 
claims  of  Illinois  and  Indiana,  of 
the  latter  to  all  unappropriated 
land  within  her  limits,  and  Mr. 
Archer's  remarks  thereon,  467 — 
report  of  a  committee  of  the  House 
of  Representatives  on  the  same 
subject,  quoted,  468 — how  acquir- 
ed, 469 — ^sales  effected,  and  to 
what  extent,  471 — ^features  of  the 
present  system  in  regard  to,  472— 


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Mr.  Foot*0  rewlation  fespeeting, 

473. 
PuritanSf  their  character,  445 — and 

its  influence  npon  literature,  446. 
Pyndunty  Mr.  his  letter  quoted,  re- 

spectinff  the  riffhts  of  the  Indiana, 

402. 


Ratine,  hia  sensibility,  43. 

Ranks,  Leopold  Von,  his  work  on 

the  Princes  and  Nations  of  the 

South  of  Europe,  291 — ^its  value, 

293. 
Raphael,  his  paintings  in  Spain,  314 

— account  of  his  Skepherdess  Ma- 

donna,  329. 
Rayon  conyokes  a  convention  at  Zit- 

icuazo,  115. 
Repster  of  Debates  in  Congress,  its 

importance,  290. 
Relazioni  described,  292 — their  util* 

ity,  origin,  and  collections  of  them, 


Rdiffious  considerations,  how  far  a 

gublic  officer  should  be  governed 
y,  161,  J62. 

RepublieSf  favorable  to  the  develope- 
ment  of  talent,  1,  2. 

Revolutions  in  Mexico,  114  et  seq. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  his  opinion  of 
Kubens'  Descent  from  tke  Cross, 
and  his  Lectures,  quoted,  324, 325. 

Richardson,  (the  novelist,)  character 
and  effect  of  his  writings,  455. 

Rogers,  Samuel,  character  of  his  po- 
etry,  457. 

Rosenmueller,  his  edition  of  Lowth's 
Lectures,  375. 

Rubens,  account  of  the  painting  of 
the  Descent  from  the  Cross,  by, 
324— his  style,  325— his  Three 
Cfraces,  325--inerit  of  his  paintinffs 
on  the  Marriage  of  Catherine  de 
Medici,  and  his  facility  in  execu- 
tion, 326. 

S. 

Sabbath,  regarded  by  all  the  depart- 
ments of  government,  excepting 
the  Post  Olice,  155— labor  of  the 
community  not  less  productive  for 
being  suspended  on,  164 — ^manner 
of  observing,  among  the  Hebrews, 
348. 

Sacred  Poetry,  its  excellence  more 
appreciated  than  formerly,  337 — 
VOL.  XXXI, — ^NO.  69. 


influence  upon  its  form  and  spirit, 
of  the  climate,  scenery,  history, 
and  manners  of  the  Hebrews,  341 
et  seq.— of  that  class,  which  is  de- 
scriptive   of   natural    beauty,  or 
founded    on    admiration    of'^  the 
works  of  God,  356 — its  difference 
from,  and  superiority^  to  other  po- 
etry, 359 — manner   in   which   it 
was  probably  composed,  360 — ^its 
characteristics,  361 — how  it  should 
be  translated,  362--cause8  of  diffi- 
culty in  translating,  363 — ^in  order 
to  appreciate  it,  a  knowledge  of 
the  Hebrews  and  their  country  re- 
quisite, 365— impulse  to  the  study 
of,  given  by  Lowth,  366. 
Saivator  Rosa,  paintings  of,  323. 
Sandgiacbegs,  what,  295. 
Santa  Jina,  Antonio  Lopez  de,  his  in- 
surrection in  Vera  Cruz,  141 — ^is 
obliged  to  take  refuge  in  flight, 
142— is  promoted  to  the  war  de- 
partment, 147 — ^his  success  in  re- 
pelling the   Spanish  invasion  ac- 
Knowledged  with  enthusiasm,  149 
— resigns  his  office,  150. 
Satire,  its  moral  power,  and  danger 

of  its  perversion,  454. 
Saunderson,  his  extraordinary  attain- 
ments, 68— account  of  his  death, 
74. 
Schiller,  lines  of,  quoted,  93. 
Scollay,  Miss,  landscape  by,  noticed, 

337. 
Scott,  Sir  Walter,  his  Ligr  of  the 
Last  Minstrel,  quoted,  fa8 — allu- 
sion to  the  character  of  his  poetry,  - 
458. 
Scriptures  of  the  Old  Testament,  im- 
portance of   studying,    338 — evil 
arising  from  a  misconception  of 
their  nature,  339 — ^their  influence 
upon  the  Hebrew  character,  347 — 
advantage  of  studying  them,  shewn 
by  the  example  of  l^owth,  37U. 
Sdim  n.  account  of,  301. 
Shaftet^ry,  quotation  from,  255. 
ShiScspeare,  moral  character  of  his 

dramas,  448. 
Siamets,  what,  295. 
Sipahi,  institution  of,  295 — ^mode  of 
education  of,  297— degeneracy  of, 
306. 
Six  Nations,  treaty  negotiated  with, 

417. 
Solomon,  splendor  of  the  reign  of,  345. 
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Mymany  anecdote  of,  994. 
Solyman  II.,  his  conquests,  SM-^his 
violation  of  Turkish  customs,  301. 
Southern  States,  excitement  in  some, 
on  account  of  certain  acts  of  the 
General  Government.  486. 
South  American  Republics,  change 
of  feeling  in  this  country  in  re- 
gard to,  112, 113. 
South  Carolina,  her  protest  against 
the  Tariff,  quoted ,  4d7 — excitement 
in,  on  the  subject,  487,  488 — her 
doctrine  in  regard  to  State  rights — 
and  inquiry  as  to  its  precise  extent, 
488  et  seq. — ^her  Report  relating  to 
the  Tariff  in  1821, 527— opinion  of 
citizens  of  the  upper  counties  of, 
in  regard  to  the  necessity  of  sup- 
porting a  tariff  system  when  once 
established,  52d- — of  citisens   of 
Charleston  on  the  same  subject, 
530 — the  causes  of  her  excitement 
examined,  531 — consequences  of 
persisting  in  it,  532. 
Spanish  Invasion  of  Mexico,  folly  of 
the,  148 — its  effect  on  Mexican 
politics,  149. 
apaansh  Residents  in  Mexico,  gen* 
eral  character  of,  126-^oarse  of 
the  Mexican  government  in  regard 
to,  133,  134-*ito  impolicy,  135— 
their  sufferings  in  removing  firom 
Mexico,  136. 
Speeches  in  Congress,  character  of^ 
on  the  removal  of  the  Indians,  442. 
A^^nser,  moral  character  of  the  po- 

dry  of,  448. 
States,  claim  set  up  by  several,  of  ex- 
clusive title  to  lands  within  their 
liinitsy  466--right  of  one  to  nullify 
an  act  of  Congress,  t:onsidered,  512 
et  B^. — probable  consequences 
of  the  separation  of,  533 — ri^t  of 
one  to  separate  from  the  rest  de- 
nied, 534. 
Stewart,  Dugald,  his  Philosophy  of 
the  Active  and  Moral  Powers  of 
Man^  reviewed,  213^^8  charactel' 
a*  a  philosophical  writer,  213  et 
seq. — notice  of  his  Outlines  of  Mo- 
ral Philosophy,  218^-4118  Philoso- 
|)hiCal  Essays,  Dissertations  on  the 
tlistoiy  of  Philosophy,  and  Philos- 
ophy of  Mind,  219— character  of 
the  last^  219  et  se^.— character  of 
his  Essays  and  Dissertations,  223 
«->^ifect'Oif  his  want  o£  famitiarity 


whh  the  Gefmni  language  ind 
philosophy.  224 — ^generS  cluutieter 
of  the  work  under  review,  225— 
analysisof  it,  226  et  seq. — Ins  phra- 
seology not  happy,  227 — ^bis  chap- 
ter on  Friendship  quoted,  228  et 
seq. — his  views  in  regard  to  the  self- 
ish system,  234 — substantially  cor- 
rect, 240 — his  opinions  in  regard 
to  Conscience,  or  the  Moral  Fac- 
ulty, examined,  241— Views  of 
Hobbes  on  this  subject,  refuted  by 
Cudworth,  242— ideas  of  the  latter 
adopted  by  Stewart,  242 — his  par- 
tial admission  of  Uutcheson's 
theory,  245— incorrectness  of  his 
theory  in  regard  to  the  character- 
istic of  virtue,  247-^his  modes  of 
expression  upon  this  subject,  im- 
proper, 248-^the  true  characterise 
tic  stated,  in  answer  to  Stewart 
and  Cudworth,  249  et  seq.— pass* 
age  quoted,  denying  that  the  nat- 
ural affections  are  in  themselves 
virtuous,  259'— causes  of  his  error 
upon  this  subject,  260— -his  views 
upon  the  nature  and  origin  of  mor- 
al obligation,  quoted,  262— exami- 
nation of  these  views,  263  et  seq. 
— tendency  of  hie  philosophical 
writings,  266. 

Stow,  CSdvin  £ ,  his  edition  of 
Lowth's  Lectures,  reviewed,  337 
— ^its  character,  375— English  edi- 
tion of  his  work,  bow  published, 
375,  note. 

Studies  in  Poetry,  Cheever's,  review- 
ed, 442— its  character,  459. 

SuUy,  Mr.  his  copy  from  Guido,  and 
of  a  Gipsey,  noticed,  337. 

SuUy,  Miss,  her  painting  of  the 
Bridal  Eve,  noticed,  337. 

Smtday  Mails,  Memorials  to  Con- 
gress in  favor  ef  prohibitinff  the 
transportation  of,  i55-^tendenCy 
of  such  a  prohibition  to  produce  a 
union  of  Church  and  State,  con- 
sidered, 159  et  seq. — practical  in- 
convenience wbiok  would  result 
from  a  prohibition  examined,  1€3 
et  seq. 

Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States, 
Its  opinion,  in  regard  to  the  litfo 
to  itfditen  lands,  exaomied,  40&*^ 
the  proper  tribunal,  for  settli^ 
lestions  of  constitutioafal  law^ 
leuictd  by  tlie  Vinghiia  rese- 


question 
485--d« 


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667 


lations  that  it  is  the  sole  tribunal 
for  that  purpose,  506 — Olmstead's 
case  in,  507 — Virffinia  report  of 
1809  respecting,  509,  510— its  ju- 
risdiction in  constitutional  contro- 
versies denied  by  South  Carolina, 
and  her  objection  examined,  513 — 
Mr.  Madison's  opinion  in  regard 
to  its  authority,  &11  et  seq. 

T. 

Td'es  of  the  North  West,  reviewed, 
and  character  of  the  work,  200 — 
tale  entitled  Payton  Skah,  quoted, 
201  ec  seq. — ^tafe  entitled  Weeno- 
khenchah  Wandeeteekah,  quoted, 
209  et  seq. 

Tariff  Policyy  Mr.  Webster's  re- 
marks upon,  as  evincing  hostility 
to  the  West,  477— South  Carolina 
report  respecting,  in  1821,  527 — 
principles  then  adopted  by  that 
State,  in  regard  to,  528 — not  the 
cause  of  the  fall  in  the  price  of 
cotton,  531. 

Temple,  Sir  William,  remark  by, 
concerning  the  Court  of  Charles 
II.  447. 

Terbourg,  painting  of  a  Ldidy  Drink' 
ing  by,  noticed,  323. 

Jhovnson,  short  sketch  of  the  char- 
acter of  his  poetry,  456. 

Theatrical  Rejrretentalionsy  their  cha- 
racter at  this  day,  311. 

Timars,  what,  295. 

Timarli,  institution  of,  among  the 
Turks,  295— their  power,  299. 

TiTUoretto,  painting  of  St.  Francis 
b^,  noticed,  323. 

lUtan,  picture  of  Martyrdom  of  St. 
Laiorence  by,  314— his  Glory  and 
St.  Catherine,  315 — his  Danae, 
Ariadne,  and  Venuses,  316 — his 
paintings  excellent  studies,  316. 

Treaties,  questions  respecting,  how 
to  be  decided,  421. 

Trumlndl,  Col.  his  Sortie  from  Gib- 
raltar, 329— ito  merit,  333— his 
paintings  executed  for  Congress, 

TVumpet  of  the  Holy  War,  translation 
of,  294— notice  of,  300. 

Turkey,  reasons  of  the  ability  of  the 
Sovereigns  of,  3 — her  feudal  sys- 
tem, 29§— its  superiority  to  that 
of  Western  Europe,  296 — her  situ- 
ation at  the  time  of  the  late  Rus- 


sian invasion,  306.      (6e*  Otto- 
man Empire.) 

U. 

Unitarians,  their  character,  and  un- 
popularity as  a  sect,  46— interest 
taken  by,  in  regard  to  Sunday 
Mails,  156. 

Utilitarian  System,  Bentham's,  its 
pretensions  to  novelty  unfounded, 
235— objection  to,  236  et  seq. 

V. 

Vandyck,  Dying  Seneca  by,  no- 
ticed, 323. 

Velasquez,  his  merit  inadequately 
appreciated  in  England,  317 — his 
style,  320— his  pamtings  in  the 
museum  at  Madrid,  321 — his  Sur- 
render of  Breda,  and  Spinners,  322. 

Venice,  republic  of,  her  policy,  2C2 
— account  of  the  relationi  of,  2^2, 
293. 

Vemet,  view  of  the  iMke  of  Ihrasy- 
mene  by,  noticed,  323. 

Victoria,  Guadalupe,  is  elected  Pres- 
ident of  the  Mexican  States,  J26i— 
his  policy,  and  its  consequences, 
129— anecdote  respecting  him, 
129,  note — his  denunciation  of  the 
insurrection  of  Santa  Ana,  and  his 
proclamaticm  quoted,  141. 

VUleToain,  M.  his  miscellanies  re- 
viewed, 94 — ^his  Discourse  on  criti- 
cism, and  Eulo^  on  M.  de  Fon- 
tanes,  quoted,  97 — his  Essay  on 
Milton,  10]  et  seq. — his  Lascaris 
reviewed  and  quoted,  102  et  seq  — 
his  opinion  of  Fope  examined,  108. 

Vitellozo,  Cardinal,  his  eflbrts  to 
form  collections  of  rdazioni,  293. 

Virginia  Resolutions,  Mr  Webster's 
construction  of,  quoted,  484 — give 
no  support  to  the  nullifying  doc- 
trine, 493  et  seq. — the  second  and 
seventh  quoted,  494 — manner  in 
which  they  were  amended  before 
their  passage,  497 — circumstances 
under  which  they  were  adopted, 
498 — not  approved  at  the  time  by 
South  Carolina,  500— of  1809,  in 
reply  to  those  of  Pennsylvania  in 
rewd  to  Olmstead's  case,  quoted, 

Virginia  Report  ascribed  to  Mr  Madi- 
son, and  quoted,  495,  496— of  1809 


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on  the  tabjeet  of  the  PemuylTa- 
nia  regolutioiM,  qaotod,  507. 
Virtue^  its  characteristic, obedience  to , 
the  law  of  nature-— error  of  Stew- 
art and  Cudworth  upon  this  sub* 
ject,247et«eq. 

W. 

Walshy  Mr.  his  literary  reputation 
alluded  to,  36. 

WarburUfn,  oishop,  his  testimony  to 
the  merit  of  Lowth,  quoted,  377. 

Workington,  President,  his  policy  in 
regard  to  the  Indians,  42x — ^in  re- 
gard to  the  West,  471. 

Webster,  Mr.  account  of  his  first 
speech  in  reply  to  Mr  Hayne  in 
the  debate  on  Mr.  Foot's  resoliio 
tion,  476— his  remarks  on  the  sub- 
ject of  New  England  policy  in  re- 
gard to  the  West,  quoted,  476, 
477 — on  the  tariff  policy,  as  evinc- 
ing that  hostility,  quoted,  477 — 
his  second  speech  in  reply  to  Mr. 
Hayne,  quoted,  483— his  construc- 
tion of  the  Virginia  resolutions, 
quoted,  484 — ^view  of ''his  argu- 
ment on  the  constitutional  ques- 
tion, 485. 

Weenokhenchah  Wandeeteekak,  a  tale 
of  the  North.  West,  209  et  seq. 

West,  Sir  Benjamin,  his  real  merit 
as  a  painter,  331— his  subjects  and 


rtyle,  SSSt^his  defects,  383— 4e«tTe 
expressed,  that  some  of  the  paint- 
ings in  his  possession  at  his  xlecth 
may  be  brought  to  this  country, 


WUkie,  notice  of  his  correspondence 
with  the  President  of  the  Royal 
Academy  in  regard  to  Murillo  and 
Velasquez,  316. 

Wolfs  Prolegomena,  quoted,  269. 


Yorkino  party  in  Mexico,  its  char* 
acter  and  lustory,  131  et  seq. 

Zavalu,  Lorenzo  de,  holds  the  offices 
of  Governor  of  Mexico  and  Sec- 
retary of  the  Treasury  in  the  Mex- 
ican States,  124 — resigns  the  lat- 
ter, and  is  debarred  from  the  ad- 
ministration of  the  former  office, 
125— is  arrested  on  a  chaige  of 
treason,  probably  well-founded, 
and  escapes,  143— -becomes  a 
leader  of  insurgenU,  144 — and 
takes  part  in  the  pillage  of  the 
city  or  Mexico,  14^— is  acquitted 
of  the  changes  against  him,  146 — 
and  appointed  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury,  147 — his  manifesto,  147. 

ZUicuaxo,  convention  of,  115. 


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