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Charleston, s. <r . 





Thf Family, the Relatives and the Friends, 
of the late MAYKARD D. RICHARDSON, these 
Remains and this Memoir, arc respectfully in- 
scribed by 


May 22. 


[Nor c. The editor haa ventured upon the publication of two little perform 
ances in thu collection, a* thoae of Mr. Richardson, without being altogether 
attired of tleir parent ge. They occur among lu papent without those di> 
tingainlun^ niarlu of uuthotRuip which were referred to in tUe compilutiona of 
tha real uf the volume. Tliey ure n.i-re tridu, however, and having the 
-n*-i r.,., n nf>- " Mr. U. axe 


MEMOIR, .... Pt^t? vii 

POLITICAL Calhoun s Exposition, - 3 

Doctrine of the Veto, - - -46 

The Tariff Principle, - - -^m 65 

The Right to Fight, ^ - . 61 

Party Spirit, - . * >- -*ns $ " ! 66 

The Union Convention, _-*" *** 57 

Position of the Union Party, - - 9 

letters from Washington, - - 71 

Sketch^* of Public Character*, *"* "V : ^ - - 84 

Codification of the Common LAW, - . t" *? > 93 

Negro Slavery, .-* - v -^ . . is 

Turkish Civili/.ation, - - ~--f " 105 

MORAL Mental Philosophy, - . * r . ]07 

The Moral Sense, ... . ^, + -_ 4 119 

On the Imagination, - "/ - - .^ , 129 

Pursuit of Happiness, . . . 141 

The s.ime suhjert, - . .145 

J -rnriy DeLwiam and the Utilitaham, - - ] 50 

LITKRART AND CRITICAL Clawical Education, . 159 

Chateaubriand, . . . . 172 

Identity of Janios, . . . . . 173 

Defence of Poetry, . - - . 1^3 

American Literature, - - . 186 

Floral Emblems, - - . : V ig 

Vitality of Letters, -* , . tf 1 - . . 194 

Jeremy Benttiam, s-> v ... i % 
Mutations of Letters, * ... 197 

Literary Trifling, . .. . - 211 

Poetry of M. Hemaas, - < . ; /; 202 

The King s Secret, - - . 20 

The Young Duke, - . ** * . 211 

living s AUiambrm, - . . . -214 
Swallow Bam, ... -. ** 216 

M with an A mbuloM Student, . . 217 


>.b The Drama, a Prize Addre**, - tit 

The Poetical Rage, * - - - 221 
Winter Scene, - >> - - .223 
The Power of Beauty, - - .224 

Moonlight Wandering*, - - 226 

Lofty Meditation*, ... t 4 . , .$. 226 

AD Introduction, > - 227 

Morning, - - ,% . 228 

The Young Mother; . v , - 229 

l)ith\n.tnhic, ..... 230 

DearThingi, . . .- / 4^ *,.-*/ 231 

HI>J>". ...... 232 

To a Lady on her Birthday, * . ;,> 4 233 

A Wish, . . -. ^ f . ^ 254 

Portrait Painting, . . . 235 

Spring, ... T -4 - ; . + 236 

Politics and Poetic*, - . ., > ... .*.< 

Joys of Home, - . . . . 237 

To a 1-ady, - . . / . . 28 

On Plauting and Dedicating a Nondescript, * Y -J 239 

Stauzas to , . . ;- ^ * . 

Impromptu to , . ^ ^ 240 

Fuiewell, . . . ;-^ V . 2 41 

Forget Me Not, " v . . V ; ! ^. . 

To Cer.iia An Imprompti, i ^ |^ 242 

A Pray ir for Peace, - . . . ; ^ . 

To . . K V M^j ^. ; 243 

To a Ijidy Weeping, . . ^ 4 

Translated from the Iliad, Book Hi. r. 16, ,. ,^f. 2 44 

Translation of Eoripide*, . . 4^ 44 

Lbe8l . ". 246 

Sonnet to Marion, 


- 248 


Tho compiler of this little volume, is conscious of no 
necessity which could call for, or prompt an apologetic 
appeal to the reader, for his indulgence during its perusal. 
He feels confident, that, without referring particularly or 
even passingly to the extreme youth % f its subject, and <ho 
circumstances under which these remains were written and 
now make their appearance, their own merits arc sufficiently 
marked an. 1 peculiar to render any such appeal unnecessary. 
Though the transcripts and impressions of a mind and life, 
scaraely yet active in their human careor, and certainly, in 
great part, yet undeveloped, they carry with them, and upon 
their face, claims to the respectful consideration of all classes 
of readers, which may not go unregarded. They are of the 
true metal, and bear the stamp of a genius as beautiful and 
full of scent and promise as the first flower of the springtime; 
though, with sorrow we must add, one, which has proved 
more timelessly evanescent and fleeting. There may be 
some, however some stern critic, too impregnable in rule, 
tnd too fettered by the exercise and dictate of an inflexible 
justice, tp whom the germ which this volume discloses, 
wanting as it does in the fruition of its promise, and more 
than deficient in many of the essentials of a labored perfec 
tion, may seem vain and valueless* He may wonder that 

Mil. MKM01R. 

the effusions of the boy, just free from college restraints, 
and tinctured deeply with its frequent pedantries and noto 
rious truisms, should be thus sedulously preserved and set 
in sight. He may sneer at the revived discussion of opin 
ions, now settled down into certainty by common consent, 
or repudiated and overthrown by a decision equally unani 
mous. For such an one we have little of remark. If, 
familiar with the highest attributes of intellect, only, and 
conscious of no humbler of comparative excellence, 
than that which distinguishes the Apollo Bclvidere, he dis 
dains the creations of all humbler artists this little memento 
is not for his examination. We look to gentler spirits to 
a more moderated measure of criticism for itsdestiny. We 
place it in other hands we refer to an authority, in affec 
tions more generously constituted, and a judgment higher 
oven than his, for its sanction and support. Nor shall we 
look in vain. The intelligent sense will recognise in this 
little effort to embalm the memory of a mind of high promise 
stricken in the bud, an encouragement to effort in others 
similarly constituted. This trophy, like that of Kirke \Vhite 
and others, of our own as well as foreign countries, may 
stimulate the efforts of the boy, and direct and render effec 
tive his industry. It may be, however, that reasons such as 
these, may prove unequal to the task of apology. The un 
bending and conscientious Procrustes, who would lop off 
what is unequal in the literary measure with scrupulous 
exactitude, may still object, that we have already memorials 
enough, for the purposes of warning and example. If so, we 
have yet another reply. We, who honor the memory 
we have endeavored to preserve, have not studiously thrust 
our memorials upon his sight. We have built our temple, 
(if we may so speak,) in the secluded walks of the village 
church-yard, in the silent places of the forest and if ho 


reads its inscription at all, he can only do so, by a studied 
departure from the thoroughfare, and an equally studied 
approach to the simple edifice upon which it is written. 

MAYNARD DAVIS RICHARDSON, the subject of our memoir, 
was the sixth child and fourth son, of the Hon. John S. 
Richardson, one of the Judges of ihc Circuit Court, and of 
Mrs Elizabeth L. Richardson, of South-Carolina. He was 
born at Charleston, in that State, on the first dav of January, 
one thousand eight hundred and twelve. Ilr attended the 
various, most approved elementary schools in thnt city; and 
at a comparatively early period, was entered at the Charles- 
Ion College, not long; before, successfully established, un 
der the charge of a Faculty and Tutorship, which have nc- 
quired, in the administration of its duties, a high reputation 
for themselves, while conferring; upon it a degree of useful 
ness and character, not peculiar, before thir period, to such 
institutions in that section. Here, he pursued a preparatory 
course of instruction, for an ade juatc time, prior to his trans 
fer to the South-Carolina College, at Columbia, in 1828, 
where his education underwent completion. It was, hc\v 
ever, at the College of Charleston, and while in the Semina 
ries of that city, that the capacities of his mind those 
graceful and vigorous shoots of promise which so unhappily 
were denied fulfilment first began to dc*-ck>pe themselves. 
At this period, and when but thirteen or fourteen years of 
age, the eye, alike, of parental pride and satisfaction, and of 
youthful and school fellowship, became attracted to the un 
folding talent which afterwards distinguished his limited ca 
reer, and which, even then, exhibited those first fruits which 
won for him, among his associates, a consideration not soon 
to be forgotten. The precocious nature of his boyish efforts, a 
wonder at that time to his mates and rivals, if detailed at large 
and dwelt upon now, would, we are assured, be no ! so U 



These subjects of discussion indicate something of the 
eourse of popular inquiry in the Southern States for some 
yeirs past; nod their free analysis, along with others of simi 
lar import, has doubtless tended not a little to that general 
habit of inquiry and examination into the principles and 
concerns of Government, which, while it has doubtless been 
productive of no small enlightenment among the great ma 
jority of the; people, has, at the same time, set them afloat 
upon a sea of p rpctual excitement and speculation, and 
brought about that spirit of technically refining upon the 
simplicities of diction and definition, which leaves no in 
strument where it found it; and renders language, itself, a 
most uncertain channel for the transmission and application 
of reason and of thought. There can be no doubt that a 
partial examination of an abstruse question such an exam 
ination, to speak in brief, as the popular mind, devoted, as 
it must be, to a thousand conflicting duties and pursuits, can 
afford to give it will only have a tendency to the unset 
tling of established usage and opinion, without furnishing, 
in their ste^d, any more wholesome or legitin.ate substitutes. 
Coupled vrilh the popular spirit, is always to be found a large 
degree of thirst for novelty and change a thirst, which, 
properly directed, finds its authorized channel in new and 
valuable enterprises, and is so far beneficial, alike, -to men 
and nations; but which, dammed up in this quarter and 
misdirected in others, breaks down all the landmarks and 
washes away all the restraints of social order, until revolu 
tion finds ita realm and dominion in the devastation which 
necessarily follows. *Ve would not, by these remarks, have 
it understood, that we think debating societies, such as those 
above spoken of, productive rather of evil than of benefit; 
but it may have it* use to inquire, in how much we should 
sanction the superficial consideration of subjects, requiring 

MEM OIK. Xllt. 

long years of elaborate inquiry, whicii the popular mind, in 
our country, is too apt to undertake, examine and settle, in 
the brief compass of a single night. Any discussion, however, 
of this matter, whatever its importance in a social point of 
view, being here unnecessary and irrelevant, we return to our 
subject by introducing to the reader, for example, a string of 
topics, all of them of leading and of nice general import, which 
appears in the ha.idwriting and among the papers of our 
author, and which, without doubt, were submitted by him 
while a; college, to some one or more of the associations, of 
which he may have been the member. That many of these 
were actually discussed, in part by himself, we have the 
pru^f, in notes, profusely rich, which are strewn confusedly 
.among the remains now before u*. Some of them appear to 
have furnished the material, in an arfter day, for man ? * of hi* 
published essays and in this manuer we are compelled to 
account, f )r the occasional use of the same idea, and, in one 
or more instances, the same paragraph, in more than one 
article upon relevant subjects; a repetition, which is una 
voidable in this publication, and which the reader, referring 
to this" explanation, will readily excuse, aa it may happen to 
occur in the progress of the volume. A comparison, how 
ever, of these initial efforts, with their revved arrangement 
in after compositions, proves them in most casca, to have 
undergone summary and abridgement, rather than dress and 
amplification. Here follow the proposed topics of debate: 

W J usury lawful? 

"Is lalsehood ever justifiable? 

"Which is the widest field for talent and distinction, 
letters, or politics? 

"Is wealth or knowledge, most powerful? 

"Southern States holding slaves? 

"Fashion productive of good or evil? 

xiv. MEiioin 

"Law of Libel in South Carolina? 

"Mind ever inactive?" 

"Must the unities of time, place and action be prefer 

"One or succession of ages better?" 

"Moral sense innate?" 

"Capital punishment necessary?" 

"Use of ancient classics their study juf/ij/fcA/t/" 

"Luxury good or ill in results?" 

"Writings of Atheism injurious to Christianity?" 

** Language of Divine or human institution?" 

"Slavery consistent with natural justice?" 

"Is Poetry, in its aggregate effects, beneficial to society?" 

"Of most influence, reason or habit?" 

"Theatricals beneficial?" 

"Relative intellects male and female?" 

"Should females be denied the pursuit of science?" 

"Are the capacities of men originMly equal?" 

"Ambition productive of pleasure or pain, good or evil?" 

"Public or private education preferable?" 

"Coriolanus, justifiable in bringing its enemies into his 
ountry? n 

"Horse stealing, be punished capitally? 

"Has the life of Buonaparte been of benefit to the world?" 

"Is bravery natural or acquired? 

"Were the discoverers of the New World justifiable in 
appropriating the possessions of tho natives?" 

"lias a Government the right of forbidding emigration?" 

"What influence climate upon national character?" 

"Crusades beneficial?" 

"Which preferable, talent or industry?" 

"Cato justifiable in his suicide?" 

These are some of the questions taken up for discussion in 

MEMOIR. \\\ 

these societies. The majority of mankind, would, perhaps 
satisfactorily, solve many of them at a glance. But there are 
none of them which might not furnish occasion for acute 
and close speculation and extensive research; as doubtless, 
on these occasions, they commonly did. A few of them are 
illo.;ically and unsatisfactorily put the first, for instance, 
which, for its answer, necessarily looks to the existing law, 
itself, on the subject. Many of them, have been long known 
as points of issue among Schoolmen and Government Doc 
tors; and, al! of them call for a high degree of methodical 
and mental exercise, to be treated with even the most insig. 
nificant degree of success. The notes of our author taken 
evidently with the view to their analysis, indicate compre 
hensive research, a reading singularly wide and various, a 
talent at arrangement surprising in one so very young, and 
a faculty of illustration, the necessary result of his large 
acquaintance xvith books, coupled with a memory that did 
not seem to hesitate often. His style too, a this period, 
when he was but thirteen or fourteen years ot ago, was dis 
tinguished by its manliness and character. It was free and 
graceful lofty without grandiloquence, and flowing without 
flippancy. Many specimens of his composition at this time 
will be found in the body of the volume particularly 
among the verses, and are remarkable for their ease and 
purity. They certainly equal, if they do not surpass, the 
like performances of Cowley and Pope at the same time of 
life, knd lead us to infer a corresponding excellence with 
these illustrious writers, had he been spared for the en 
deavor.* * * 

That he took a leading part among his associates at this pe 
riod, we have the testimony of themselves. A letter from 

*Th<j following Tem, -.-rode, imperfect, ami the image* of which tnaj be 
traced ebewhere, may be taken hi proof of ov abortion. Tber bear et i- 


an intimate associate of Mr. Richardson, received in reply 
to an application, made with (his object, is strong in this res 
pect, and, as it conies from a gentleman, himself of conside 
rable promise, we shall make free selections from its contents. 
"No one, 9 says he, "at this period knew our friend better 
than myself. Our intimacy begun with childhood, and my 

deuce of extreme juvenility , and are coupled with note* which would ifer 
their composition to hU twelfth or thirteenth year. They are described i* 
the manuscript from which they are taken, as his first effort in verse 

I love to roam at morning light 
When day hai rtuued away dull night; 
1 love to roam when night afar 
lias fled within her ebon car; 
At dawn, to see Spring s earliest flower 
Revived by cheerful vernal showers; 
To roam along the silent walk, 
Where 1, iny fancy, may not balk, 
O erehadowed by the forest tree*, 
And fanned by Zephyr s cooling breese- 
The brilliant foliaged birds to see 
And hsteu to their minstrelsy; 
To sit and hear the waving grove 
Re-echo to the voice of love; 
To hear the truant 1 lack bird s lay. 
While skipping fast from spray to spray ; 
To hear the silver speckTd thrush 
Tuning hi ihroal from bush to buah; 
To view the new-born day appear 
And brighten nature with his glare* 
All theae I love, but more I love, 
At midnight s silent hour to rove, 
To watch the twinkling stars, to see 
The queen of heaven, in majesty j 
To lie (he moistened grass along, 
And hear the owl s foreboding song; 
To some old, moat-clad tower 10 hi* 
While the grey bat goes flitting by ) 


admiration of his virtues and talents grew up from that pe 
riod until his death. While at school, he was highly esteem 
ed as a promising youth. Indeed his singular capacity, as is 
too oflen the case at such intlitutions, made him somewhat 
unpopular with his fellows. The precocity of his mind was 
such, and his colloquial powers so various and rich for one 
of his age, that he always placed himself foremost in their 
school-hoy efforts. This gained him the appellation of "the 
Pedant" but no one knew how to parry such sneers with 
greater dexterity. At school, the best boxer, you know, has 
from time immemorial, been considered the best man. It 
was otherwise with him. He had a vein of pungent humor 
which to him was sword and shield. No one knew how to 
exercise this property better and no one at school ever 
wielded it with more absolute sway. I have fallen into an 
apparently trivia! recital, because I believe upon this ptrl of 
his early character depended much of his literary success af 
terwards. I am sure his first inducement to the writing of 

To Bit among the ruin drear, 
And watch in calm composure there 
The ruined walls, with gra<w o ergrown 
The hooting owl, roamed from he* home, 
The bubbling brook, that wind* its court* 
O er pebble s overgrown with mo 
The silver moon her bright beam* throw 
Upc* the rough hewn atoneo below, 
Tbrre many a joke and many a song 

Oft rung the ancient wall* along. 

Give roe to sit, in tranquil joy 
Where BO disturbance can annoy; 
Giro me to watch, ere morning * beam 
Dispel my rinona/y dream; 
Oh! gire me oft to know the power 
Of midnight calm aad silent bosr . 


xviii. MEMOIR. 

poetry, arose out of the applause of the students, bestowed 
Upon a little doggrel satire, which we unmercifully dealt out 
upon the head of one of our classmates. It was for some in 
dignity received, that Maynard pointed the pen at his victim, 
and in the course of one night s hard work, we conjointly 
managed to produce a sort of heroic satire, representing our 
opponent as the famous Trojan hero ourselves as Agame- 
non and Achilles. The verses, I confess, were bad enougi. 
not to speak of the bad taste of placing ourselves so modest 
ly in the shoes of two such doughty heroes. Be this as it 
may the praise they received at school was to him, not less 
than myaelf "a poetic glass of wine, * and it exhilarated him 
to such a degree that he cut many a pleasant caper with the 
muses in times thereafter. The compass of this letter admo 
nishes me to pass over the earlier portions of his life, and say 
something of that period when his mind began to developc 
its powers, and take a more orderly stand. 

"He was about fifteen years of age, when we both joined a 
Debating Society of the*, city. Although one of the youngest 
members he was remarkable for taking a successful part in 
some of the gravest debates. He chiefly delighted to engage 
in subjects of morals and metaphysics and I am astonished 
even at this period when I reflect how correctly and variously 
he used to handle these topics. This he was in great measuro 
enabled to do from his proficiency in the ancient classics. 
Most of their philosophers he had read, and his principal de 
light was in introducing th jm to the acquaintance of his seve 
ral friends. I think it was his constant perusal of such auth 
ors which gave such a terseness* to his conversation and 
writings. In the society he was far from being a popular 

*The vvaut of this very terseness, with all deference to the opinion of our 
friend, u the chief fault of our author * style, which, as be ha* said imme 
diately below, was quite too ewayic&l. 

MfcMOlR. XlX, 

fiehaicr. His style was too cssayical. But his satirical 
powers frequently made up for this deficiency. He could 
laugh from the mino s of his audience the most solid conclu 
sions, and substitute in (heir place his own. I am fully per 
suaded that this faculty, if properly managed, and had life 
bten spared^ would have made him a highly successful plead 
er. I have already almost implied that his essays were well 
received. For one of his age they were remarkable for their 
correctness of thought and style. I recollect one in particu 
lar. It gained him great commendation from the members. 
The subject was "The means of attaining a high moral stan 
dard. " An anecdote which arose from this essay, will serve 
to illustrate its excellence. In the course of his observation* 
he touched upon the beauties of Zcnophon as a philosopher; 
and pictured forth his life of Cyrus as a correct model of the 
moral standard. This he did in so charming a manner that 
we all went home and read the Cyropaedia with redoubled 
energy. I am sure my tutor at least could bear testimony 
lo my correct recitations of the book for weeks after. 

"After Maynard^vcnt to College, I knew little of him MVP 
through letters. He, Vowcvcr, from all that I have been en 
abled to collect from his fellow students, took there an ele 
vated stand. It is believed by most of them, that he might 
have received he first honor* of the Institution, had he not 
declared himself indifferent to them. As it was he was pla 
ced among its highest honored. Many of his letters are be 
fore me. They are on various subjects, and display a mind 
richly cultivated, if not matured. I have often had cause to 
admire the rapidity with which he wrote on every subject. 
He never corrected what he wrote, and, what is remarkable, 
I do not recollect ever to have detected a flagrant mistake in 
even his most familiar epistles. 

"I could write a volume in praise of the social virtues of 


our friend but this is not the place. Suffice it to say he wa* 
generous high minded and sincere and seldom lost a friend 
where he made one." 

Of the satirical powers of Maynard, as described by the 
friend, k> whom we are indebted for the above epistle, we 
have little question. Much of the material which we have 
been compelled to exclude from this compilation, savours 
strongly of this characteristic; and taking a local and per 
sonal direction, particularly during the political warfare, in 
which it was, perhaps, his misfortune to engage, has been dis 
carded, chiefly, for this very reason. Still, there are eviden 
ces of the talent in many of the performances here preserv 
ed; and the epigrams, which will be found at the termination 
of the Tolumc, attest the evident leaning of his mind to the 
habit which has been ascribed to him. \Ve would not by 
this, however, have it understood or supposed by the reader 
(hat he possessed that morbid and hostile malignity of tem 
perament and thought, which is so absolutely essential to the 
constitution of the personal satirist He was a creature, too 
gentle in his disposition too confiding, too fond and yield 
ing, to treasure up, for a moment, the venomous discontent 
the jaundiced querulousness of spirit, which finds man and 
society, things only of prey and pastime,* and which must 

*A fragment, without any of those delations which might refer it to it* 
proper period or occasion, may be given as a specimen of thia boyish Mtire 
It U certainly no mean evidence of spirit and of poetical aptitude, if we re 
gard the extreme youth at which lie must have written it. 

"When looking through the world 1 trace, 

The lUcord of each human place, 

The overt spleen, the lurking hate, 

Which on all stations seem to wait, 

I wonder yet the cause I find, 

Still planted in the human mind. 

It takes its rise with earliest time , 


be the prime constituent in the mind and character of the ha 
bitual satirist 

In his sixteenth year (1828) he entered the Junior claw of 
the South-Carolina College, at Columbia. Of his literary 

And speeds its way through every clime. 

Some sago philosopher hat paid, 

That to the mortal eye still spread, 

Ilia fellows follies lie revealed, 

While all his ownnre well concealed 

And Rancour [Envoy] with her withering [jaundiced] eyfV, 

The merit changes to the vice. 

Thus s pen with renom fraught 

A venal pen for [with] lucre bough , 

Attempts to strangle at its birth, 

The infant muse, inspired by mirth, 

Ami silence nature s sweetest ong 

With croak ings of his raven tongue 

That song of feeling s darling child 

Warbling hi$ natire wood note 9 tetM" 

Advancing with celestial fire 

From "nhture up to nature s- Sire," 

As erst, shall now and e er prevail 

While s critic spleen shall fail. 

His vcrs*, of hate and folly boii, 
Though seeking fame shall find but acorn. 
Ti Dry den says perhaps twas Byron 
No matter which, the search would lire o. 
That who by gentleness would soothe, 
The bitter and the brainless youth, 
Errs wide, as he who trie* to bribe 
The true the candid critic s pride , 
Who wield* no prostituted pea 
To bate, to party, or to me* 
Whose rule of right M nature s creed, 
Who give* to merit, merit s need; 
Still, always eager to befriend, 
Tto rtne nr nature mtaat t mend. 


labours while at this Institution, we know comparatively lit 
tle or nothing. It is more than probable that the studies and 
requisitions of the University, left him but little time, and 
afforded him few opportunities for exercises, which, what 
ever may be the ultimate design of education, are, in reality, 
irrelevant to its acquirement. Still, he must have indulged 
occasionally in his converse and association with the muses, 
for his verses seem more easy after this period, and his prose, 
always free and graceful, had acquired still greater freedom, 
and had taken on itself an air of manliness which gave an ad^ 
ded interest to the p*is.ion:Uc flow of its general character. 
Associations of a like literary character uith those which he 
enjoyed when at school in Charleston, noem litre to have ra 
ther confirmed him in a habit of metaphysical disquisition) 
which, in time became, not less a habit than a luxury, the 
consequence of which unhappily appears in almost every 
thing which he has written. Numberless scraps of manu 
script occur among his papers, containing the heads of hi* 
argument on theae occasions and at these controversies; 
usually coupled with some brief exordium, which, while sub 
stantially proposing the question, furnished him with a text, 
that, by unavoidable necessity, introduced the corollary. 
His research on these occasions was prodigious. All writers 
of whom he appears ever to have heard, who had treated of 
ihe main or any of the incidental topics, were thoroughly 
overhaul and examined; and the immense pile of rotes, 
authorities and selections, which were gathered by him in 
this way, and carefully preserved, would infinitely surprise 
the great majority of our modern and native literati. In 
these inquiries Maynard was indefatigable; and the acquisi 
tions thus made, ihe various and valuable fund of know 
ledge thus obtained, furnishing him at all times with re*dy 
material, and which few minds could digest with more faci- 

MEMOIK. \\lli. 

lily lhan his own, must have yielded him numberless advan 
tages over his contemporaries in any future pursuit of litcra- 
lurc. Our reference here has been purely to works of science 
and speculation to those huge tomes in which the great 
body of moral and metaphysical knowledge is contained, 
and the mere perusal of which, apart from their study and 
analysis, is, of itself, a monstrous, and, possibly, a meritorious 
labour. The industry of Maynard was not content only 
with this, however great, achievement. Warmly devoted to 
letters, the literature of the classics was at an early period of 
his college career, a prime object of devotion and attain 
ment; and, while an under graduate, lie delivered the oration 
devoted to the subject, which fully attested the success of this 
pursuit, and which, in the language of a critical friend, 
"would have done honour 1o tlie pens of Everett or Legare." 
"He read, (observes the same authority) the productions of 
Homer, Euripides and Eschylus, not so much with the feel 
ings of a critic as a pcct. He breathed the same atmosphere 
with them the mantle of their inspiration fell upon his shoul 
ders, he caught thc .r spirit and transfused it with uncom 
mon felicity into his own writings. * 

This is high praise, and although not prepared to say quite 
as much as the authority from which we have drawn the 
preceding passage, we cannot scruple to l>elicve, that there is 
promise high promise in what he has left us of hi* mind 
that such would have been his achievement, and that, this eu 
logy would not have been entirely unmerited in the end. The 
little collection here given, is one of infinite promise; labour 
ing too, as it does, under the several and strong disadvantages, 
incident to its early composition the want of chastened ela 
boration, and the absence of that careful revision, which none 

From an obituary notice, contained in the "Sumter Whig" the journal 
conducted 07 mr author then, under the control *f a friend. 


but an author can hope to undertake satisfactorily. T^e 
crude thought, hastily conceived and hurriedly committed 
to paper, can only receive due correction from the mind that 
conceives i; and with this belief we have been compelled 
to throw aside, though with many scruples, numerous passa 
ges, comprising the germ of many a fine conception and bril 
liant design, which, under hi* hand?, might have attained all 
the growth and beauty, which they undoubtedly promised. 

It was while Maynard was a member of the senior class of 
the South Carolina College, that a Dramatic corps under the 
direction of Mr. De Camp, for some years after, the Mana 
ger, established a Theatre in Columbia; at that period some 
thing of a novelty to its citizens. To a student, and a pro 
found admirer of the muses, this was an event of highest 
interest; and the ofler of a prize, by the Manager, for a po 
etical address adapted to the opening of the new temple, 
immediately instigated our young author then in his seven 
teenth, year to undertake the performance. He did so, and 
succeeded. The address was chosen by a committee of high 
character, and was spoken, we believe, with considerable ef 
fect. We are not informed as to the number of competitors, 
but presume, that, as is usual on these occasions, they were 
neither few in number, nor deficient in industry and talent. 
The successful poem, which will be found in our poetical de 
partment, is not a fair specimen of the abilities of the writer. 
The hacknied character of the theme and occasion, the diffi 
culty of saying any thing new on such a subject, and the 
extreme youth of its author, were all so many obstacles in the 
way of a performance, the memory of which might be lasting 
The address, therefore, is rather that of a gentleman, to 
whom the fielles Lettres were a taste and a pastime, than 
of a poet. The images and ideas employed, are, of necessi 
ty, common place; and such as are unavoidably suggested 



by the subject. Many of them appear elsewhere, and in 
the old writers; and the chief merit, therefore, of the article 
*in question, is the graceful and flowing versification, and a 
few, somcwhatnovel, combinations of ideas and images, pcciu 
liar to the theme. The structure of the verse is perfectly un 
exceptionable, and with, perhaps, a solitary exception, un 
commonly easy and harmonious. In its members, however, 
it is incoherent, and, if we may so speak, inconsecutive. The 
song wanders from one topic to another before each is ex 
hausted; and we find the former recurred to, before we have 
well made our way into and through that, to which, in like 
manner, we had been previously hurried. Hut this is a ve 
nial error, and incident to all juvenile perforn: mces. The 
wonder is, that, in a production of such length, and of a 
character so ambitious, the defects and exuberances should 
be so few and unimportant. 

To this single achievement, however, the labours of our 
author, while at College, do not appear to have been limited; 
and, although we arc not advised of any other performance, 
Htrictly of a public or popular character, from his pen, be 
yond an occasional display before the Clariosophic Society, 
and other associations of which he was a member, his attain 
ments and reputation seem rapidly to have been progres 
sing. His correspondence, at this period which, from its, 
personal and domestic character, we are not at liberty to 
make use of bears strong testimony to the manliness and 
originality of his mind, and its employments. His propen 
sity to philosophical inquiry and criticism the close and 
scrupulous self-examination which, in these habits, his mind 
continually underwent, seemed to prepare him, naturally as 
it were, to digress, with the most perfect freedom and suc 
cess, even in the most familiar compositions, to opinions as 
lofty and comprehensive, as the arguments by which they 


from the description given, the glowing strain which is said 
to have distinguished the college exercise. It is stript of ma 
ny of those aids and ornaments which gave it a free flowr 
upon (he ear of the auditory; and, in the less pretend ing form 
of the essay though sufficiently obnoxious still to the rep 
rehensions of a severe taste it has been deprived, by a more 
critical spirit than that in which it had been conceived, of 
much of that glow and glitter, which probably won for it 
most of the applause by which it appears to have been greet 
ed upon its delivery. In its present shape, it is strangely 
unsatisfactory. The argument is entirely incomplete the 
transitions from one to another of its premise- and details, 
too hurried to admit of full, or even partial justice to any one 
of them; and all that we can now perceive of merit, in what 
has been left us, of a performance confessedly highly popu 
lar at the time of its inception, is a graceful and flowing dic 
tion, and a rather profuse, but not unpleaing, freedom of il 
lustration and ornament. 

Having now quitted college, he proposed to himself the 
study of the law, and leisurely, at intervals, from this period, 
until his life took a new, and perhaps, not an uncongenial 
direction, he employed himself in the acquisition of the ele 
mentary principles of that noble science. Such a pursuit, 
admirably accorded with the acute and logical turn of hr5 
mind, and there is little doubt, considering, in connection 
with this characteristic, another, not less so, in the free and 
extreme facility, which, at his age, he possessed, of language 
and composition that, had he lived, and chosen topursuetho 
profession, his success, as an advocate, must have been deci 
ded. Currently with this study, he employed himself in 
the education of two younger brothers, by which exercise 
he still further refreshed and strengthened his own college 
acquisitions; and in this manner was passed, not unprofita- 


bly, the brief interval of tiinc^ between bis departure from 
his Alma Mater, and assumption of the many responsibilities 
and, at all times, highly exciting duties, of a political jour 
nalist. We now sec him in a character entirely new, and, 
one, for which we hesitate not to affirn., the amiability of his 
character the unsophisticated and yielding temper of his 
feelings andaflections, almost entirely unfitted him. The heart 
of Maynard, had been made in a mould, and imbued with a 
Spirit, as gentle as those emotions, which were the invariable 
accompaniments and unhesitating prompters of all his ac 
tions. He had formed his idea of human nature, not from 
a survey of its existing, but of its ideal condition. lie had 
looked upon humanity, as it was before, and not after its 
fall; and the soul of poetry, which prompted his own moods, 
was quite too generous and gentle, to conceive of either 
storms or ser|>ents in that sweet Eden, which his fancy had 
filled with existences, not merely immortal, but young and 
beautiful and innocent to the last. What had such a crea 
ture to do with politics and political partizanship that war 
fare of peevish spirits and petty ambition, where patriotism 
becomes a by-word and jest furnishing the sign post for 
beer house and brothel and where ruflianism and guile are 
almost certain of success in the conflict with honest dcvo 
tion, shrinking modesty, and that high-souled truth that will 
not prostitute its own pure impulses, for all the honors and 
distinctions of an immoral and diseased condition of society! 
We have hitherto studiously forborne, as unnecessary *a 
our narration, any icfcrcnce more than one purely occa 
sional to the condition of political parties in the State T>f 
South-Carolina, during all this period; and our reference 
now" shall be as cautiously sparing as may be consistent with 
the requirements of our memoir. Designing this publica 
tion, as we do, simply* as the memorial of one, who had 

XXX. MKMOir.. 

iu him much tiiat might have taught, and won, and com* 
mantled and who had ofreutly done something toward* 
tho attainment of this promise we would carefully sup 
press and exclude all such matter a* might he merely lin 
eal and fleeting in its interest, or offensive in its expression. 
We would preserve the memory of our friend as a son of 
Carolina one, who, if spared for the realization of those 
pledges which his early career had given, would have con 
ferred honor upon her, and whose labors, even now, are not 
altogether unworthy to he enshrined in the memories of her 
children. For these reasons we would desire to avoid that 
rank and prolific growth the parties of the day and 
though from the nature of Mr. Richardson s employments 
during the most active period of his life, this hope be enter 
tained in vain, we shall yet so far as practicable, abridge his 
"Remains" by excluding whatever may not seem purely 
abstract and general in its application. 

The condition of parties in South-Carolina, separating, a* 
they did, the people at large upon a topic the most terribly 
.exciting, and the interest of which, we regret to say, has not 
.even now altogether subsided, it was deemed necessary that 
n exponent of the doctrines and desires of the Union Party 
should be established in Sumter District a highly intelligent 
division of the State, and one, in which parties were, in a 
numerical sense, pretty equally divided. The opposite, or 
Nullification Party, had already the vantage ground afforded 
them by the use of a press in the little village of Sumter; 
and the "Southern Whig," a journal embodying the politics 
of the former party, was established under the direction of 
- Mr. Richardson, and in great part through his own personal 
activity. He had now entered upon a new sphere, and one 
to which his whole previous life had been foreign and unfa 
miliar. He was now to enter into the arena to combat-- 


not principles, so much as persons for who does not know 
that the war of political partizanship, whatever may he its 
character at the commencement, overlooks, in a little while, 
the abstract grounds upon which the conflict began, anil iden 
tifying measures with men, forgets the doctrine in the teach 
er? Of this, Maynard seems, at the outset, to have had but 
little idea. His nature had been too generously too gently 
constituted; he was quite too unsophisticated too untaught 
in the habits of human collision, to regard it as at all difficult 
so to discuss the workings of a problem in government or 
morals, with guiding principles, and according to the dicta 
of college rules, with an even temper, and without violation 
of the bounds and limits of the most rigid decorum. Thus, 
having in his very first paper devoted several columns to the 
consideration of the principles of a distinguished statesman, 
embodied in a theory which has lately "rung from side to 
side" of our country, he addresses him a private letter, ac 
companying his public analysis, in which, while he regrets 
that his own convictions do not permit his recognition of the 
doctrine which he opposes, he entertains the hope that hi 
course may not lose him those good regards and that friend 
ly interest which had always been avowed for his fortunes, 
by the person whom he addresses and whose opinions he re 
views. The original of this letter may well merit preserva 
tion, as an illustration of that manly candour and general and 
stern adherence to principle, which formed no less a feature 
of the intellectual, than the .moral existence of our subject. 
The following is a copy of the communication here referred 
"Respected and Dear Sir? 

"I take the liberty of sending you the Sumter Whig/ 
devoted to principles which I believe possess your sanction, 
n-jth, perhaps, a single exception. After as impartial an in- 


vcsligation of the mibjcct M my understanding is capable of 
giving it, I have been compelled by stubborn conviction, to 
reject the doctrine of the veto, except as (probably) a revo 
lutionary measure. I trust that, in slating my objections, I 
have felt and expressed that esteem for your character, and 
that re.spcct for your abilities, which I certainly entertain; 
and that no political rancour will ever operate to convert an 
honest difference of opinion into reckless and indiscriminate 
censure. If I am in error, to he convicted of it will give 
me no pain; nor [in that even*] would I hesitate to avow it 
and retrace my steps. I am not possessed, I trust, by the 
amabalis insania of weak minds, which weds them to error 
and renders them obstinately inaccessible to conviction; 
though I must say, my error, if so it be, must be fundamen 
tal. 1 have cither built upon an insecure foundation, or am 
bottomed upon constitutional law, and have escaped Locke s 
distinctive feature of madness false conclusions from sound 
premises. To you as the giver of comparative, I would 
address Pope s invocation to the Author of all light If I 
am right, 0! teach, etc. 

"With respectful remembrance of your kindness, 
"I am, Dear Sir, very sincerely, &c." 

It is not often that public men, in their career of personal 
ambition, urged on by party impulses solicitous of the one 
object, and reckless of the character of those means employed 
in its attainmentobserve a courtesy, so elevated, so be 
comingly honourable as this. Most of our partizan editors 
would smile at this juvenile consideration of the feelings of 
othersthis deferential regard to authority and age. They 
would scarce scruple, strong in their supposed notions of the 
right, and devoutly zealous for the combination of men or in 
terests for which they speak, to assail motives, no less than 
opinions. It was not so with our friend. He had no sucij 

MKM01R. .\X\iii. 

hostility to mini and his opposition to measures, while his 
convictions were the result usually of a close and rigid ex 
amination of the subject, in all its ports, was urg^d with all 
the deference of one, who felt th;t he might yet be wrong. 
The trait which this little epistle discloses, to our ntind, 
^icaks largely for the graceful delicacy of his. It embodies 
the totodtftty of youth, while it indicates the confidence of 
character by which, we mean, an enlightened sense, solici 
tous for the truth, and placing the pursuit* and enquiries oi 
its intellect, not less under the charge of a pure and proper 
morality, than of the lights of its own reason and experience* 
In his twentieth year, and shortly after be had undertaken 
the editorship of the Southern Whig, he was appointed by 
the Union Party of Sumtur District, one of the delegates to 
the Baltimore Convention, convened for the nomination of 
the President and Vice President, of the United States, 
where, along with the members from South-Carolina, gene 
rally, his vote appear? recorded for the present incumbent of 
the former office, and Mr. Harbour, of Virginia, in the lat 
ter. From Haiti more, after the adjournment of the Conven 
tion, he proceeded to Washington, and attended closely to 
the proceedings of bolh branches of Congress, oa nuy be in 
ferred from the veil written letters, which he furnished for 
his Journal from that city a portion of which, as they des- 
onoein.part, the manner, style, spirit and character of 8omc 
of the leading members of those two bodies, we have pre 
served in this collection. They are highly graceful as mere 
specimens of composition, but the reader will discover many 
yet higher attributes in the bold, froc-, thought, the critical 
acumen, and frequently just opinions, which distinguish 
them throughout. We may add, that there are pcrmiUed to 
appear rather too many of those prejudices, which Southern 
youth at a rcry early period, are taught to imbibe, against 
Northern men and institutions. A marked bias, running 



along with them*ouie times defaces and defeats hii opinions; 
and are attributable rather to the uoil than the soul of the au 
thor, whoso sense did not often permit him to err in this naau% 
ner, and spirit, once conscious of, would withhold its* 
support or function froai any ttcnti merit savouring of injustice. 
We met him, at this period, for the last time, ii: Wash 
ington. He was in excellent health, and his spirits wen- 
unusually He was preparing for hii return to 
Carolina, having been tasked ly deliver an oration on the- 
fourth of July, then nenr at hand;* and the high favour and 
applause which had so far attended his public career, and 
the tokens of which were par .icularly abundant at the seat ok 
Government, with those who knew him, had elated him to- 
the utmost. Hu was full of hope, sanguine in anticipation, 
and the numberless plans of public life, and literary achieve 
ment which he had designed, and which were unhesitating 
ly disclosed for hi* nature had no concealments though 
calculated, at that time, to make one smile at the profuse- 
ness and plenitude of his hope unapprehensive of defeat 
and disappointment, are full of melancholy consideration 
now. Who could have dreamed of so dark a set, for so 
bright a sun who look for a tempest when the sky was 
without a cloud! We separated; and, a day or two before 
the close of June, he took his way home, and arrived barely 
in time to deliver his oration, which he put together in the. 
course of a few hours before its delivery, while attending 
at the same time to the journal under his direction, the du 
ties of which he had resumed immediately on his return. 

The measure of a convention of the Southern States, with 
the view to a consideration of their federal relations, having 

*\Vi; have not b teu able to place our hands upou this performance, of 
which, Ihoso who wore present at its delivery, speak in terms of ibe highest 


ecn suggested and discussed by several of the lending men 
of Carolina, was warmly taken up in his paper by Mnynard, 
and it would bo doing hir.i fnr less than justice, were we to 
donht, t, but for his activity in the matter, the decision of 
the Union Party of the State, which finally adopted it, would 
never, or not then, at least, have been made. The aim was, 
if possible, to prevent the; inefficient, and, most probably, 
the suicid.d action of any one State, upon thrsc relations; 
and, by referring the common evil and difficulty to the in 
terests in common, enlist the action of a physical power, 
sufficient to give emphasis to any plan which might finally 
f>c decided upon for the attainment of a remedy. Some ot 
the leading politicians of the Party in Ihc lower division of 
the State, wore opposed tn tV measure, apprehending a 
dissolution of the Union, and the formation of an entirely 
nc\V confederation of interests purely Southern an object 
supposed to be in tire contemplation of many individuals of 
the opposite party. With this fear, the Qgge4tion, though 
on the whole, ralher popular with the greater portion of thr 
}>arty, was eol lly received by some of lho.c most active and 
distinguished in the direction of it* affair*; and,accorn ngly, 
<vc find , that the measure, though fixed upon at last, was 
simply given into, afier it had been adopted by the Union 
Par y of Sumter District, without reference lo any of the 
other divisions of the State*. A preliminary convention of 
delegates, representing the State, only, being necessary to 
nny ulterior arrangement of this nature, a meeting was call 
ed at Columbia, and, in obedience lo the will of his con 
stituents of Sumter, Maynard, though but twenty year * 
Of age, attended as a delegate from that section, the first ses 
sion of th* Union Convention, in September of the pa^t 
year. He was, at this period, Ktill engaged in the conduct 
of his journal, the politics of which, had, as wjs to have 
expected, involved him in several controversies of .1 


character rather unpleasing and troublesome than trying or 
terrible. Solicitous only to reform, he overlooked, in sonut 
respects, the capacity and character of Ihe disputant, and in 
return for argument, he sometimes received abuse. A situa 
tion like this, tvas, of all other?, the most mortifying to a 
man of the nice sensibility the quiet spirit, and honest and 
confiding candour of Mr. Richardson; and his indignation at 
these assaults had no other effect than that of keeping his 
mind in a state of strong and feverish excitement. Ungen 
erous attack, mean and sneaking insinuations a shame loss 
obloquy and bitter maligniiy, wrought upon his temper in a 
thousand ways; and their effect upon his mind and his habits 
grow momently more and more visible to every eye. A 
sickly anitnat.on pervaded his whole system, and made him 
restlessly alive to every circumstance, which, at another pe 
riod, would have been suffered lo pass by him without any 
regard, or, at the utmost, with but a passing thought or 
srrile, of scorn or indiifcrence. Still, he did not complain, 
even to those* mosi intimately dear to him; and though it 
was evident how coply he felt the ungenerous nature of 
the warfare waged against him, "a sense of pride a true man- 
lincss, and a just appreciation of his own character forbade 
the idea of any reference to others for sustenance or sympa 
thy. The iron was in his soul, yet he writhed not under its 
inflictions. He felt himself mistaken and misunderstood, 
by many of those whose opinions he could really esteem; 
while, on the other baud, he was daily the victim of assaults 
from quarters either too worthless or obscure to justifv 
honorable consideration. To one, not conversant with the 
temper of political parties, and those too, of a Southern 
country, our regrets may savour somewhat of extravagance. 
It may be thought surprising that one whose character we 
have sought to describe, as peculiarly distinguished by its 
manly firmness, should at the same time, be so tenderly alive 


k> such indiu ct or l>asc hostility; hut when it is remember 
ed, that true manliness of character is most usually allied tf> 
a scnsihility as perpetually alive, as the courage which is 
coiled to sustain it, must be active and enduring;, the suffer 
ings of his spirit, charged too with the paramount necessity 
of their suppression, will be readily understood. 

In the beginning of October, in company with his father, 
the Honorable Judge Richardson, he went on a visit to the 
town and neighborhood of Columbia, chiefly with a political 
object. At that period of excitement, no talent, of whatever 
order, vas suffered to reM in idleness; and the journey was 
taken in obedience to that almost imperative requirement of 
the popular voice, which, from ils sometimes insulated posi 
tion in the interior, looks necessarily for its knowledge of 
men and measures, alike, to those whose leiiurc and informa 
tion will permit ol such a practice. In the thickly clustered 
town* and villages of the Northern States, where newspa 
pers and knowledge may be had on all hands and with little 
trouble, such a Uabit is unknown; but with the agricultural 
States, with a free population scattered at wide intervals 
throughout a territory, in one f*n*e of the word, wild and 
uncultivated, no other means of popular enlightenment can 
be readily contrived. To adopt such a system is therefore 
incumbent upon all those who may desire the popular wel 
fare though, it sometime* happens in the end, as the pre 
sent condition of South-Carolina, readily and unhappily at 
tests, that, in the same way and through 4 like medium, error 
sometimes succeeds to ignorance, and usurps dominion over 
the less presumptuous power, whose place she has taken. 

The business of the political meeting which drew their at 
tendance at Columbia, having been over, Maynard, though 
indisposed, commenced his return home in company with 
his father. He had proceeded as far as the house of Mr. 
John Marshal), in Richlajvl District, jome fourteen mile* 


I rom Columbia, whoa his indisposition piit on, tor the tirst 
time, a serious appearance, and it wai found impossible for 
him tc* proceed further, \leclical attendance was called; 
bnd the presence of four physicians about him, attested not 
less the alarming nature of the attack, than (he deep inte 
rest of those around him; for his recovery. 

During his illnetw, which, in spite of all care, was destin 
ed to be fatal, attended tlosely by a father whom he haJ 
ever loved, nnd a sistei- in whom his best a ffectioru tad been 
always eonti .led, his spirits, previously oppressed or stimula 
ted, in extremes, re-turned hi most resp^ts to the more even 
tone of healthful cquanimanity, even while the animal fires 
were most rapidly wasting; and, though, at occasional mo 
ments, his thoughts, reverting to the life of turmoil in which 
he had so recently* been engaged, grew irregular with sud* 
den hallucinations, yet, \Vith a strong, and, under all cir 
cumstances, a singular exercise of the mental powers, he was 
enabled to bring l N ack and restrain (ho rebellious spirits, and 
confine them to the dwelling, destined so shortly to be left 
forever vacant. His moments of delirium, few and soon 
overcome, gave place, as the hour of dissolution drew near, 
to the guiding and fine reason which distinguished his intel 
lect; and he sought, having a full consciousness of his fate$ 
to soothe and compote the hearts of those who could do 
nothing for him. IIo spoke with Serenity and mildness 
With a temper, no longer ruffled with the strifes to which he 
had been so lately subject, and the effect of which, was, in 
great part, the worst feature of his disease. The principles 
bf the ChHftlUn Religion, which, with a singular direction 
for one of his youth, his mind had exammcd years before, he 
now repented with a conscious triumph to those ahout him, 
as his own, and a? forming that creed, which now brought 
serenity to his spirit.* Though ambitioA was a marked and 

rv ulMiOM ol iho truth of hi< durhrition in thi NJKCI, 


ing feature in his life, there were no vain rcpvl.i on his, 
lips at the hour ol* liis departure. Forgiving tho>e who had 
wronged or mistaken him Messing Ihotic who loved, on 
the twelfth ol October, the sixth day of his illness, he expired 
gently in the arms of those nu.M dear to him. His remains 
were borne to the place f family burial a:;d residence t 
Jiioom Hiil,in (. laremont county, followed by u forge con 
course of those relatives and friends, whose eyes, for a long 
period, had lucn turned in hii;h exportation upon that fine 
promise now forever ove. t!;ro*vn. 

Our task is now nearly over. The l : fo of the man of let 
ters is seldom prolific of much material of hauling interest 
itill less may we find in ;hc history of one but fcntcred up 
on such a life. A series of chstrai tions rather than events, 
brings us from one fta^c of time to another, and he who 
has charmed and soothed, and beguiled us in his works,, 
seldom leaves a memorial of interest behind him, except to 
those to whom he has been personally known. It was thus 
with our subject. In the quiet of the studio, for the most 
part of his career, we look in vain for those strifes, and tho 
devclopcmenl of those pasMons, which give action to histo 
ry. His life, wedded to few changes but those of the Rea 
sons, like the rose of the wilderness, is conscious of no events 
but those which they bring; and the elements in the midst 
of which he dwelt, bestow at his departure, as little consid 
eration, as the forest, when, by some rude zephyr, the leaf 
s detached and whirled nway from the parent stem, or, break- 
n y through the sides of its choked and neglected fountain, 

occurs in the collection of manoicripl* which he l^fl tx-hind him. Th*te 
iceraiagly |rrepmr*d at different ported* of tmthort life, and, from tli*ir nature 
IUM^ reference to event* which were calculated not tuerely to try the nerve, 
bat to inspire decent wtue of trejnuUwi roomdeiation in the tniud, we 
land PGvernl fynns of prayer, in i^hich a ingn!ar and amiable humility of ex- 
preMOD is coaple<f with all the entirncnt of a high and soaring *pii;t, dei- 
row of life for the purposes of achievement. 

x. MfcMOlfi. 

n hen the ilcut water escapes away , ami is forever lout in lhe 
deep autls and untrodden paths of the desert Nor, doe* 
the fact, that there remain btill a few, who most regret and 
cannot cease to remember, change very materially the des 
tiny of which we have spoken, and sought, however feebly, 
to describe. The world ui man Uene of thoughtless change, 
and of perpetually varying regards. It is to defeat this dis 
position that we carve the marble that we give life to the 
rock and the canvass filling the abodes of business and of 
men with fine forms, and sweet, but always melancholy, 

We need say little more in relation to the literary labours 
of Maynard. The reader will form his own opinion, upon 
the imperfect volume which we have put before him. The 
specimens here given, are not meant so much to exhibit his 
performance as his promise arc not so much the achieve 
ment, as the preparation for achievement. They arc the ex 
ercise, of the young eaglet the initial flights, in which, by 
short excursions and brief elevations, lie prepares his wings 
for the far summits, and Ins unsealed eyes for the meridian 
blaze. That these flights would have been as high on the 
part of Maynard as any of his fellows, we have no doubt 
ourselves, and, without fear, hazard the opinion among our 
readers; relying confidently, even on this little collection, 
full of imperfections, as, doubtless it will appear, to sustain 
our estimate. lie had the soul for the endeavour the spirit 
of daring which such an aim demands; and, who will say, 
lhat the bird who, vet unfledged, poured forth strains so de 
licate and melodious, as those here preserved, would not, 
when years and exercise had imparted confidence to his spirit 
and maturity to his voice, have made the groves ring with a 
music, not easily to be rivalled, and not soon to be forgotten. 





The sentiments of this distinguished individual, 
having been for sometime before the American people, 
and the reckless anathemas and sweeping denunciations 
of opposing, and the servile and indiscriminate flat 
teries of applauding partizans, having pretty well sub 
sided, the time may be supposed, fairly to have arrived 
for sober, unbiassed, calculating reason to make up her 
final verdict We believe the recent expose, has 
received as much unmerited censure, as undeserved 
praise. By some, its author has been apotheosised as 
the originator of a brilliant system of government, or 
as the fearless champion of the old, discarded principles 
of ninety-eight. By others, lie has been denounced ns 
a reckless disorganiser, and determined disunionist. To 
the former verdict we cannot entirely yield our assent, 
but the latter opinion, we unhesitatingly disavow. We 
can never believe, that this distinguished and most able 
Statesman, would, under any circumstances, finally and 
advisedly, pledge his high and responsible name to sen 
timents of disrespect, and disaffection to the govern 
ment of our adoption. It would be strange indeed, if 

The title by which Mr. Calboun s theory on tb subject of nullification a 
popularly recognized in South-Carolina. For thit theory in eitfnuo, as un 
derstood by ita advocate*, *ee the correspondence between Governor Hamil 
ton and Vice -President Ca!hoan, in July ami August, 1832; the various 
addrewea and report* of the Convention held at Columbia, South-Carolina, 
November, 1932, and the Ordinance to nullify, recommended by the name 
body, and carried oat in in provbioM by the Mcceeding State Leg ml a tare. 
See also, the tpeech of Mr Hayne <m Koofa re>laiioa m the Seaat* of to 
I aitd Htatw, at a prtviow 


he could. The obscure individual, to whom the door 
of honorable fame is for ever closed, might find an ex 
cuse for becoming the incendiary of the Ephesian Tem 
ple: but what defence could be made for the Guardian of 
theshrint, who had, himself, snatched a living coal from 
the altarto wrap the fabric in flames? To the sincere and 
honest conviction of Mr. Calhoun in the constitution 
ality and fitness of his remedy, the independent attitude 
he has assumed, his manly disregard of the personal 
bearing of the question, his uncompromising devotion 
to his oath to support the Constitution the exfjoae be 
fore us bears ample testimony. We accord to him the 
high and honorable eulogium of regarding truth, and 
disregarding party: of preferring the interests of South 
Carolina to the emoluments of the Union; of sacrificing 
self to what he sincerely believed the cause of the 
Constitution. In the chief point he has discussed, the 
constitirtional question, we art* so unfortunate as to dif 
fer with him. We diller honestly, after long and labo 
rious reflection, and shall freely detail our grounds of 
dissent. If we misconceive or mistate the qrrcstion, we 
are sincerely desirous of correction. 

We will, iu tail-ness, state this important constitu 
tional question in the words of its originator: nor, in 
deed, could we find language that more succinctly 
embraces the whole ground in dispute. 

"The question of the relation, which the State ami Gene 
ral Government bear to each other, is not one of recent ori 
gin. From thr commencement of our system, it has divided 
public sentiment. Even in the Convention, while the Con 
Ktitutioii was struggling into existence, there were two par 
ties, J )!i to what this relation >huuKl bp, whose different senti 
ments, constituted no small impediment in forming that 
instrument. After the General Government went into ope 
ration, experience soon proved that the question had not 
terminated with the labors of the Constitution. The great 
struggle, that preceded the political revolution of 1801, 
which brought Mr. Jefferson into power, turned essentially 
on it; and the doctrines and arguments on both sides were 


embodied and ably sustained; on (he one, in the Virginia 
and Kentucky Resolutions, and the report to the Virginia 
Legislature; and on the other, in the replies of the Legisla 
ture of Massachusetts and some of the other States. 
These resolutions and this report, with the decision of the 
Supreme Court of Pennsylvania about the same time, (par 
ticularly in the case of Cobbett, delivered by Chief Justice 
M Kean and concurred in by the whole bench,) contain what 

I believe to be the true doctrine on this important subject." 


"Their great and leading principle is that the General Go 
vernment emanated from the people of the several .States, 
forming distinct political communities, and acting in their 
separate and sovereign capacity, and not from all of the peo 
ple forming one aggregate political community: that the 
Constitution of the U. States is in fact a compact, to which 
each State is a party, in the character already described; and 
that the several States or parties, have a right to judge of its 
infractions, and in case of a deliberate, palpable, and danger 
ous exercise of a power not delegated, they have the right, 
in the last resort, to use the language of the Virginia rcsolu-* 
tions, ti to interpose for arresting the progress of the eri/, 
and for maintaining within their respective 1 nnits, thr 
authorities, rights and liberties appertaining to them.* 

Where the diversity of interests exists in separate and 
distinct classes of the community, as is the case in England, 
and was formerly the case in Sparta, Rome, and most of the 
free States of antiquity, the rational constitutional provision 
is, that each should be represented in ihc Government, as a 
separate estate with a distinct voice, and a negative on the 
acts of its co-estates, in order to check their encroachments. 
In England, the Constitution has assumed expressly thi 
form; while in the governments of Sparta and Rome UK- 
same thing was effected under different but not much les< 

efficacious forms." 


"Happily for us, we have no artificial and separate classes 
of society. We have wisely exploded all such distinctions; 
but we are not, on that account exempt from all contrariety 
of interests, as the present distracted and dangerous condition 
of our country, unfortunately, but too clearly prove*. With 
M^ they arc almost nrelntvrly gpographiml, faulting mainly 


from difference of climate, soil, situation, industry and pro 
duction, but are not, therefore, less necessary to be protected 
by an adequate constitutional provision, than where the dis 
tinct interests exist in separate classes. The necessity is, in 
truth greater, as such separate and dissimilar geographical 
interests, are not liable to come into conflict, and more dan 
gerous when in that state, than those of any other dcscrip- 

"This right of interposition, thus solemnly asserted by the 
State of Virginia, be it called whal it may, stale right, veto, 
nullification, or by any other name, I conceive to be the fun 
damental principle of our .system, resting on facts historically 
as certain, as our revolution itself, and deductions as simple 
and demonstrative, as that of any political or moral truth 
whatever, and I firmly believe that on its recognition do 
pends, the stability and safety of our political institutions/* 

Were we to star^ any general objection to the doc 
trine of the Vice President, it would be, that it is too 
metaphysical too vague too speculative. It appeals 
more to abstract analogies Jian to practical illustrations 
more to what might be the most perfect scheme of 
government, than to what actually i.v the organization 
of our own. It gives to human nature too much virtue 
and forbearance; and while providing cheeks against the 
cupidity of a majority, seems to apprehend no abuse of 
power on the part of a factious and disorganizing minority, 
in proof of, at least, one of our allegations, we would 
refer to the sweeping assert ion, that //// nature even/ 
individual has a right to govern hit/use If." The ex 
pression is imposing at first sight, and seems to carry 
truth along with it. The question however involves a 
Jiice point in metaphysics, and may well admit of doubt. 
\Vc do not cxprt-ss a definitive opinion at this time, but 
will si in ply suggest a difficulty or two, that readily oc ; 
rur. Man being born with the several qualities of IT 
rjprocal enjoyment and protection bearing many rela 
tions to his ft Hows, which can he developed only by the- 
act of his congregating with them this situation would 
appear to l>o a necessary fcaturr of his nature. More 


OVLT, being found in a social state, and since what is 
universal may be said to be natural society, with its 
conditions and restrictions one of which we conceive 
to be, in the emphatic language of Mr. Jefferson, "ab 
solute acquiescence to the decisions of the majority" 
is his proper situation. If so, to deny the right of 
the majority to govern, is to oppugn a condition of So 
ciety, and, as we shall hereafter shew, to shake the 
main pillar of Republicanism. As if in anticipation 
of these difficulties, Mr. Calhoun has drawn a vivid 
picture of the evils of partial legislation, the likelihood 
of interested majorities, and the disastrous and remedi 
less situation of oppressed minorities. These points 
are made to figure prominently on the foreground of 
the sketch highly colored, and in bold relief. But 
there are dark, as well as bright points, in the picture. 
There are shadows, which obscure its brilliancy blob 
\yhich mar the liberty of its coloring and irregulari 
ties, destroying all the harmony of its proportions. 
True, an interested majority may misconstrue the char 
ter may enact unjust and unconstitutional laws. But 
on the other hand, is it probable, that the decision of 
a single confederate, alarmed for its rights deeply in 
terested in the issue and goaded on by its passions 
will prove more profound more temperate and more 
impartial than that of the collective wisdom and virtue 
of the whole Union? 

"After a measure may have been framed with the greatest 
wisdom and caution, and with the assistance of all those 
guards which the Constitution has deemed indispensable, it 
enables a single member of the government to undo every 
thing to bid defiance to the government of its own choice; 
and to commit, perhaps, an irretrievable injury to the inte 
rests of every other member of the confederacy. And thii, 
too, without putting it in the power of that single member to 
cure, in any practical manner, the faulty legislation of which 
it complain*. A power of this kind a power which is only 
potent to do mischief U absolutely irreconcilable with the 
preservation of our free institution*. " 


It appears to us, that the fundamental error of the 
doctrine, one which runs through, and unconsciously 
tinctures the whole theory, in claiming such ultra and 
unheard of rights for the States, is a radical misunder 
standing of the nalure of our government. The oppo 
site extremes of our peculiar polity are CONSOLIDA 
TION, on the one hand, and the STATE VETO or Nulli 
fication on the other. The former would first crush 
the confederate government, and then amalgamate the 
particles into massnewly remodelling them and pre- 
*<erving no trace of their original elements. This 
would make us an unlimited consolidation, with no final 
remedy in any measure of injustice, save in the "ultima 
ratio re gum" The latter, would render the confede 
racy a league (and one of a most peculiar character) 
instead of a government* would subtract from the 
wholesome powers of the Union, to annex a dangerous 
prerogative to the States and, virtually, throw us back 
upon the old, rotten, discarded, inefficient confedera 
tion of 77. Our government, then, is strictly neither 
entirely National, nor entirely Federal, but a mixture 
of both. In its origin it is purely federal in its ope 
ration it is purely national in its organization it is 
partly federal, and partly national. 

Mr. Calhoun, has. we think, been led away by con 
sidering not what w, but what ought to be the character 
of our civil polity. In settling it, he has been misled 
by a deceptive view of the veto power in the different 
branches of the British Government. He considers 
these departments as representing distinct interests, and 
derives their privilege of check from this contrariety. 
This is not the case. Every branch of that government 
represents partially, if not entirely, the same interests 

The distinction here made by our author, between the character of a 
league and a government, has been dwelt upon with much force and adrok- 
m*s by a subsequent reviewer of the whole subject, in the North American 
Review; in a long paper contained in the number of that journal for January, 
1933, attributed, (though we doubt with correctness,) to the pen of Mr. Web- 
ter. See jag 226 7 of that periodical 


with this, in the present instance, unimportant dis 
tinction, that the Lords at-e a step above the Commons in 
rank the Kin:; a step above the Lords. The lower 

house represents the commercial and landed interest 

the upper also represents thc litter, with no small 
share of the nionied class. The King embraces both, 
and has a check upon both. Precisely such is the 
foundation of our checks of Jiflerent departments. It 
could not be otherwise, for it is the simplest th-* least 
dtfQlgUtoaing the most efficient. There is one diffe 
rence, however, which republicanism has introduced 
into our form. The veto of our Chief Magistrate dif 
fers from that of the British throne, inasmuch as it is 
not absolute, not final it is conditional. There is no 
sound reason, then, for saying, thnt, since th- British 
Constitution has provided for different classes by mutu 
al checks upon each other, our Constitution should 
secure different geographical interests by a more ex 
tensive veto. 

By Mr. Calhoun s theory, this declaration of the Con 
federates in General Congress assembled, is neither a 
nnv grant of power to Congress nor au amendment, 
nor a fmtfafrcretct in any particular. It is limply an 
expression of o/rin if ft the renewal rf a grant already 
made or a nvtlMf/of a power never delegated. In 
other words, the Convention is organized into a Court 
of Justice a judicii l tribunal not to amend alter 
remodel or abrogate the Constitution: but to pass sen 
tence upon a law of Congress. For our own part, we 
cannot see the difference between a settlement of the 
Charter by three fourths of a Convention and an amend 
ment. To one party it must partake estentially of that 
character. South Carolina believes the Tariff law un 
constitutional; if a Convention decides otherwise, it 
is surely an amendment, as far as she is concerned. 
If the. decision is in our favor, it is precisely the same 
in relation to our opponents. "To this complexion it 
mutt come at kst to construe a law, ad libitum, is 



by the position of the advocates of the veto on another 
occasion, fully equivalent to the power to make or 

If we are not mistaken in our interpretation of what 
the advocates of the Veto term the ^settlement of the 
Charter," it will be a very easy matter to demonstrate 
its inconsistency with the letter of the Constitution. 
It is admitted by Mr. Calhoun, and indeed by every 
partizan on that side, though they differ among them 
selves in other particulars, that the object the sole end 
and aim of Nullification is, to force Congress to submit 
the law in question to a General Convention, which 
shall either formally cede the disputed power, by a 
vote of three fourths, or deny it by a vote of more than 
ont fourth. We pass by the inconsistency developed 
in the difference between the vote necessary to guv, 
and that required to deny the power. This ground 
has been already occupied nor have we ever seen a 
plausible rejoinder. But, to the point in hand. If to 
declare to pronounce valid to "settle" be virtually 
to amend then is the assumption on the part of a sin 
gle State to force such an amendment palpably uncon 
stitutional. There arc two (and only two) modes pro 
vided by the Constitution to amend, revise, and abro 
gate that instrument (Art. V. Sec. I.) "whenever 
two thirds of both houses shall deem it necessary, or 
upon application of two thirds of the State. Legisla 
tures." This is the only legal mode the power so far 
from being given to a single State, is expressly denied. 
Now, if South-Carolina, by her Legislature or Con 
vention, usurps this power, she violates the Constitution 
she resists the Government of her own adoption she 
places herself in an attitude of war, and is at once 
without the pale and protection of the Union. Again, 
if there is no such express prerogative given to a State, 
if, on the contrary, it is expressly denied, can it be 
found among the reserved rights? Can it be supported 
by implication, construction, or what the niiltificrs call 


the ** xdl lire of thing** and the "character of our Go 
vernment?" No one, more deeply feels, or more sen 
sibly deplores than ourselves, the fallen condition of 
of this once glorious little State." No one more hear 
tily desires her a safe egress from her pressures no 
one more sincerely loves peaceable and constitutional 
remedies, and no one, we are pleased to believe, 
would he more willing to appft* them. Could we 
think the veto safe, peaceahle and constitutional, we 
would unite heart and hand with our opponents. But, 
stubborn conviction forces u? to reject the proposed 
remedy, (if that may he called a remedy, which rids 
us of life?) and we cannot but believe, but, that, in order 
to get rid of a vexatious (an ,1 we hope temporary) evil, 
the advocates of the new system violate the very in 
strument which th?y profess to desire to restore to its 
original import and purity. 

The ostensible end and aim of the veto is to compel 
Congress to keep within, what, in the opinion of the 
Nullifying State, is its legitimate sphere; by submitting 
to the joint employers a doubtful act of the common 
agent, not for purposes of amendment, but simply to 
obtain an expression of opinion. Now >ve would en 
quire, by what clause of the Constitution a state is in 
vested with the power to call a General Convention not 
to alter or to abrogate, but to pass a judicial opinion 
upon a legislative act? We have searched for it in 
vain nor can we admit of it by implication, construction, 
or what the Nullifies term the "nature of things" 
If a State ca a decide UJXMI the constitutionality of an 
act of Congress, cither absolutely, or by requiring, 
against its construction, a vote rqual to that which call 
ed the Constitution into existence, then is the Judiciary 
virtually abolished, and its powers transferred to each 
and every State. The Constitution has, in the mosl 
unequivocal language, appointed the Supreme Court 
the tribunal of constitutional appeal making it inde 
pendent* but in other respects feeble, strong in it 


own sphere, but powerless out of it in order tlilit it 
might be safely interposed as a check upon the other 
departments We do not say or believe that this body is 
perfectly pi-ofound in theory, and admirable in its practi 
cal operation. The assertion would imply, that itscrea- 
toi-s were not men, and that itself is more than human. 
We believe certain of the objections of the Vice Presi 
dent to be well foiiiufcAl, and, to a certain extent, conclu 
sive. But these relate to inherent defects of the Consti 
tution, which can be remedied only by an amendment. 
We believe that the concession of this power to the Su 
preme Court is perfectly consistent with the admission, 
that the power may not always have been rightly exerci 
sed, arid may require rc-eon^identtion and re-adjustment. 
At one period of our History, the Bench descended 
from its high and responsible functions to become a 
school of intemperate party harangues. But power 
innst be trusted somewhere* and all hunnn trusts are 
obnoxious to abuse still, if the People have the correc 
tive in their own hanils, there is no reasonable ground 
of complaint. Reasoning from abuses is decidedly the 
least philosophical and satisfactory mode that can be adop 
ted and under such an habit, we would reject all 
Government, because misrule sometimes triumphs: all 
Law, because villainy still stalks abroad without pun 
ishment: all Medicine, because disease sometimes baf 
fles its efforts. The Judiciary, whatever may be the 
errors in its organization, though the weakest depart 
ment of our government, has ever been esteemed the 
strongest against the encroachments of the Legislature: 
and when any change is to take place in its stricture 
and capacity, we may well pause, before we prefer the 
ardor, intemperance, and the, necessarily, tumultuous 
character of an excited State Convention, to the cool, 
dispassionate, reasoning habits of a learned, dignified 
and temperate Bench. 

-Ho\v the States arc to exercise this high power of inter- 
position which constitutes so essential a portion of their re- 


i iglils that it cannot be delegated without an entire 
surrender ft/ /heir sovrrcianft/, and converting our s>ys>iein 
from z federal into a ru/j.W/</e//f/ government, i* a question 
that the Slates only ore confident lo determine."" 

Mr. Calhoun here hasvs the right of Slate interposi- 
lio:i !>y veto upon the reserved sovereignty ofthe Slates. 
His position i;*. that the confederates of the league, on- 
.crj-ially/w, sovereign and independent, have not yiel 
ded to Congress the pov-cr in cjiK- jon. or the ri.^ht to 
ay*umt it by implication or construction. The Stales, 
and each State severally, retain tiii^ ]x>wer by virtue of 
\\\e\v re served soi //. Now, it so happens, thai of 

the twenty-four conlederales v, hi< h at prv-enl compose 
the Union, eferm were never govereign State*, and, of 
coui se c-annol claim this right (f interposition. Here are 
the two horns of a dilemma: choose either, and the case is 
the same. If OIK: State possesses this right of vc-tn. it 
must, by the pi-m Morn of the Constitution, lie common 
to all. The ri^ht is claimed by virtue of powers ap 
pertaining to ahovercigii community, \\hu-h have never 
been ceded lo the common aguit: hut this \\ /is of sove 
reignty throws its protection over the tliirte en original 
parties alone: and yet we live under a government of 
equal privileges, and under a Constitution which ex 
pressly provides, that no preference shall he given to 
nne Sute over another! To the scheme of our oppo- 
ne.its. thi* objection, from their own shewing, appears 
fatal: and a solution ofthe difficulty, if possible, would 
not a little enlighten our understandings. 

"Should the General Government, and a Slate come into 
Conflict, we hare a hi^h remedy: the power which called 
the General Government into existence, tvhich give it all of 
its authority, and can enlarge, contract, or abolish its power* 
at its pleasure, may be invoked. The States themselves 
may be appealed to : three founhs of which, in fact, form a 
power, whore decrees are the Constitution itself, and whose 
voice can silence ail discontent The utmost extent then of 
the powrer i, that a State acting in it^ sovereign capacity, a 
ooe of Ibepartie* to the constitutiontl compact, may compel 


the Government, created by that compact, to submit a 
lion touching its infraction, to the parties who created it; 
to avoid the supposed dangers of which, it is proposed to re 
sort to the novel, the hazardous, and I must add, fatal pro 
ject of giving to the General Government the sole and final 
right of interpreting the Constitution, thereby reversing the 
whole system, making that instrument the creature of its will; 
instead of a rule of action impressed on it at its creation, and 
annihilating in fact the authority which imposed it, and 
from which the government itself derives its existence." 

We cannot find the clause in the Constitution, which 
authorizes Congress to call a Convention for any other 
purposes, than to alter, amend, or abrogate the Charter. 
The State interposition, be it remembered, only forces 
a construction from tin? assembled confederates. We 
are also at a loss to understand the force of the analogy 
which gives the power of construing exclusively to 
three-fourths, because three-fourths are requisite to 
amend. Why not insist, because the Constitution was 
unanimously adopted, that it should he unanimously 
expounded? The analogy appears equally obvious and 
conclusive. The error appeal s to be in imagining, 
that there is a peaceable and universal remedy for all 
governmental obliquities: a political panacea for every 
abuse of power. It is beyond human ingenuity to con 
trive such a system, as long as man is constituted with 
his present passions. Power must be confided some 
where, and will sometimes be overstepped. We have 
provided every safeguard for its just administration, in 
the responsibility of our National Senators and Repre 
sentatives to the people: in the liability of federal of 
ficers to impeachment: and in the independence of U. 
States influence in the appointment of State functiona 
ries. But after all these precautions, the Constitution is 
a compact to be expounded by its test and spirit by 
the facts of the case, and the provisions for expound 
ing it which provisions none of the parties can consti 
tutionally reject. The instrument provides that the 
laws of the United States shall be the supreme law of 

RKMA1N9 I OUTlCAl.. 15 

the land, and that the judges in every Stale shall br 
hound thereby: any thing in the Constitution or laws of 
any State to the contrary notwithstanding.* The 
Charter ilso ordains, that the judicial power shall ex 
tend to all cases in law and equity under thi<= Constitu 
tion, &c.f This is the l:iw of the Constitution the ar 
rangement of power and adjustment of interests may be 
faulty may be dangerous: hut that such is the scheme 
of our government, the language used is too explicit to 
admit of a doubt. But we can entrust this point in 
abler hands, and we gladly avail ourselves of superior 
intellect and experience. Mr. Madison, in relation to 
the tribunal of dernier resort, holds the following lan 

"It is true, that in controversies relating to the boundary 
between the two jurisdiction?, the tribunal which is ultimate 
ly to decide, is to be established under the General Govern 
ment. But this dors not change the principle of the caso. 
The decision is to be impartially made according to the rule* 
of the Constitution; and all ihc usual and most effectual pre 
cautions are taken to secure this impartiality. Some such 
tribunal is clearly essential to prevent an appeal to the sword 
and a dissolution ofilic compact; and that >t ought to be es 
tablished under the General, rather than the Local Govern 
ments; or to speak more properly, that it could be safely es 
tablished under the first alone, is a position not likely to be 

If the State docs not possess this right of forcible 
appeal, the exposition infers, that Confess is the final 
judge of its own powers, and that ours is virtually a 
consolidated government. We have already shewn, 
that the Constitution provides another tribunal to settle 
the question which the veto would provoke, viz: <fc has 
Congress this power?* But independent of this, the 
States, as well as Congress, possess their own mode of 
appeal. If the one is satisfied of the legality of the 
act, and declines submitting it to the amendatory tribu- 

Totwtitxition, U. 8. 8e. 4, Art. VI. 2. 
Mbd, Art. t, fee. 2. 


nal, what ground of complaint have the oilier? Con- 
grcss is satisfied: Let those who are dissatisfied, ex 
ercise their Constitutional prerogative.* Let the 
Sute draw up its view of the unconstitutionaHty of the 
act-^-let it apply to the Legislatures of the other States 
for their opinion let it respectfully* but firmly remon 
strate agaimt tke. acl, and obtain a decision as the 
Constitution points out. If this fails to assemble the 
confederates, it ought to convince the appellate State? 
that the call of a Convention would not alter the case: 
but that the tribunal thus referred to, would infallibly 
reject our claim. If, after this application of the Con 
stitutional provision, the people deem the evil too 
great for acquiescence, they need not unconditionally 
and absolutely secede. Let them assemble in their 
majesty let them take their vital interests in their 
own hands let them make a final appeal let them 
oLmnly adjure the goveinmcnt of their own choice, 
to pause, or incur the mournful alternative of blotting 
out one bright star from our political firmament of 
effacing one stripe from our National flag. Let the 
question b^ respectfully but firmly put renounce the 

"This view of ihe writer HIM been followed up, more in detail, hy the Re 
viewer, to whos paper on the topir in question, comprised in the North Ame 
rican, wo have already referred . It will be seen hy tho hrief passage which 
we subjoin, how nearly the two writer* coincide in their separate considera- 
tion of tho point. The e viewer nay*-: "It would therefore be the dulv of 
tho discontented State, instead of proceeding to nullify and throwing upon 
ihe General Government the responsibility of bringing the subject before tho 
other Suites, to be^in by addressing herself directly to the other Stales in the 
way of consultation. Put in what form in ihii to bo done? The Vice Presi 
dent tells us that the subject must bo brought before the States "iu the only 
form in which, according to the Constitution it can be, by a proposition to 
amend in the manner prescribed by that instrument " I Jut how does it a|>- 
pear, that this is the only or the "proper form iu which the business can be 
done? The object H to ascertain the meaning of the Constitution. Why 
resort for this purpose, to a process intended for a totally different one. And. 
a* wo have seen, wholly unsuitable and ineffectual for this? Suppose that aJI 
the insuperable preliminary objections to which we have adverted are over 
come; that the General Go\ernment has applied fora grant of the disputed 
power, and that the States, as the Vice President would of courwe desire, ha\* 
refused the application ; I ow would t!:e case then stand? Precixelv a* it do*s 

iv. The, 4 ueBtion would sti!| he, what is the meaning of tho Constitution 

It Ifi 

i it is 


Tariff not so much as an evil in itself, as implying 
the existence of a right to impose other and greater 
evils or renounce the Union? We do not believe, 
that the present or prospective state of affairs would 
warrant such a dreadful alternative, but let not the party, 
of which we are, it is true, but an inefficient member, 
be taunted as remediless.* We claim every right 
which the Constitution provides, and are ready, when 
occasion demands, to apply those rights which are above 
nil Constitutions, the * right to fight* the right to re 
sist oppression the right to appeal from man to Got . 

"As strongly as 1 am impressed with the; great dissimilari 
ty, and, I must add, as truth compels me to do, contrariety 
of interests in our country, resulting from the causes already 
indicated, and which are so great, that they cannot be sub 
jected to the unchecked will of a majority of the whole, 
without defeating the great end of government (and without 
which it is a curse:) yet I see in the Union, as ordttinfd in 
the Constitution^ the means, &c. &c." 

In this passage, which substantially embraces the 
whole theory, containing the fart-prvdiratcj (discord 
ant interests, in the Confederacy] and the inference 
deduced (the danger of legislation by a mere majority) 
Mr. Calhoun has only thrown the weight of his authority 
into the scale, and we are content to settle the ques 
tion by this rule. We think we shall be able to throw 
into our scale, sanction at least as high as Mr. Cal- 
honn s; (by no means an easy task;) and to refute, by 
the most unequivocal opinions of two of the patriarchs 
of our country, each of the positions upon which his 
doctrines are founded. Our quotations are from Presi 
dents Washington and Jefferson, and are so singularly 
appropriate, that they appear to have been penned for 
the express purpose of answering the embryo theory of 
Mr. Calhoun. If the question before us was, what is 
the best government? and, not, what actually is the 
government under which we live? we might alter our 

TtwUaioB Party of 8ulhCarolm*ifheTrefrrmi to. 

. 3 


position, and adopt a different system of defence. But, 
AS the question stands, our extracts conclusively shew, 
that both of Mr. Calhoun s positions the fact- predicate 
and the conclusion were repudiated by our earliest 
and ablest statesmen, and formed no part of the gov 
ernment under which they lived. Upon Mr. Cal- 
houn s first principle ("geographical distinctions *) 
President Washington holds the following Language : 
"TiiE UNITY OF GOVERNMENTS, which constitutes you 
one people, is also now dear to you. It is justly so: 
With slight shades of difference, you have the same re 
ligion, manners, habits, and political principles." 
"These considerations speak the most persuasive lan 
guage to every reflecting and virtuous mind, and exhi 
bit the continuance of the Union as a primary object of 
patriotic desire, /y there a doubt, whether a common 
government can embrace no large a sphere? l*t 
experience solve, it. To listen to mere speculation, in 
such a case were criminal." 

These sentiments, though mildy, are emphatically 
expressed. But the venerable father whose language- 
they are, does not stop here. -In contemplating, 
says he, "the causes which disturb our Union, it occurs, 
as a matter of serious concern, that any ground should 
have been furnished for characterizing* parties by geo 
graphical discriminations Northern and Southern 
Atlantic and Western; whence designing men may 
endeavour to excite a belief that there is a real differ 
ence of local interests and views. One of the expedi 
ents of party to acquire influence within particular 
districts, is to misrepresent the opinions and aims of 
other districts. You cannot shield yourselves too much 
against the jealousies and heart burning which spring 
from these misrepresentations; they tend to render 
alien to each other those who ought to be bound toge 
ther by fraternal affection." 

Could any thing be more calculated than the passage 
above italicised to apply to the present condition of 


affairs! Was there not prescience in it the foresight, 
alike of the prophet and the patriot? But there is yet 
more, equally fruitful of prophetic warning and philo 
sophic examination, in the prospective history of the 
country. "I have already intimated to you" says he, 
"the danger of parties in the State, icith particular 
reference to the founding of them on geographical dis 
criminations. The basis of our political systems is the 
right of the people to make and to alter their ccastitu 
tions of government; but, the constitution which at any 
time exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic 
act of the whole pc&pif, is sacredly obligatory upon all." 
Thtis iiiuch upon Mr. Calhoun s first principle, and 
ncrc we might well dismiss the controversy, for if the 
premises are controverted, the inference, of course, 
rests unsupported. But we will go farther, and de 
monstrate from expressions of Mr. Jefferson, too un 
equivocal to be for a moment misunderstood, that he 
deemed (what Mr. Calhoun denies) the "right of elec 
tion * to be a sufficient safeguard that he knew of no 
other -and that the minority principle found no sup 
porter in him. We quote from his Inaugural Address 
of 1801, delivered two years after he penned his cele 
brated Kentucky Resolutions, from which he has been 
claimed as the corner stone of Nullification: with how 
much truth this extract will in some measure shew. In 
enumerating the "essential prmciplfs of our govern 
ment, and consequently, those which ought to shape 
its administration," he mentions "a jealous care of the 
right of election by the people, n mild and safe cor 
rective of abmes, which are lopped by the sword of re 
volution where peaceable remedies are unprovided: 
ABSOLUTE acquiescence in the decisions of the inajo- 
rify, the vital principle of republics, from which there 
is rto appeal but to force, the vital principle and imme 
diate parent of despotism. 11 

Again in dwelling upon them more at length, hr 
says: "These principles form the bright constellation, 


which has gone before us, and guided our steps through 
tn age of revolution and reformation. The wisdom of 
our sages, and blood of our heroes have been devoted 
to their attainment: they should be the creed of our 
political faith, the text of civic instructions, the touch 
stone by which to try the services of those we trust, 
and should we wander from them in moments of error 
or of alarm, let us hasten to retrace our steps, and to 
regain the road which alone leads to peace, liberty and 


"Nor ought they *o overlook, in considering the question, 
the different character of lh?>laiius of the two sides. The 
one asks from the Government no auVnr^a^es, but simply to 
be let alone in the undisturbed possession of th**ir natural 
advantages, and to secure which, as far as was consistent 
\\ilh the other objects of the Constitution, was one of their 
leading motives in entering into the Union; while the other 
side claims, for the advancement of their prosperity the 
positive interference of the Government. In such cases on 
every principle of fairness and justice, such interference 
oui^ht to be restrained, icithin limits strictly compatible 
with the natural advantages of the other." 

We unequivocally subscribe to the sentiment of the 
extract above, as just, and in the true spirit of the Con 
stitution; but we cannot perceive its accordance with, 
at least, our version of the doctrine in question. It 
is an undisputed maxim in Law, Legislation and Poli 
tics Conveniet nulli ouad secum dissidit ipse" 
that when inconsistency can be clearly stamped upon 
any position, it is ipso facto fundamentally rotten and 
not to be relied on. We proceed to the test. The 
high toned, latitudiuarian spirit of construction, which 
prevails in our federal legislature, authorizing every 
encroachment upon thtt rights of a minority that an 
overbearing majority may in their infallibility deem 
proper, has been justly complained of by the Republi 
can States; and by none more clamorously than South - 
Carolina. The practice of Congress on this point is so 
well kiiowp, that it is hardly necessary to advert to it. 


They assume, in their omnipottncy, a power, not ex 
pressly ceded to the charter, and refuse to yield it, un 
less three-fourths of the States, met in Convention, 
abrogate the assumption. That this is a disingenuous 
subterfuge, subscribing to the letter, but violating the 
spirit of the Constitution, South-Carolina has never cea 
sed to exclaim. And yet, even by the varnished ac 
count of Gen. Hayne, this is the very method for the 
adoption of South-Carolina. She is to assume a doubt 
ful power, and retain it unless forced to yield it to the 
mandate of three-fourths of a Convention. Here arc 
the two horns of a dilemma choose either and the 
case is the same. If this is not resorting to that most 
sophistical and uncandidmodc of reasoning viz. argu 
ing in a circle we must confess our utter inadequacy 
to determine what moral reasoning is. We call upon 
the supporters of this doctrine to leap over this barri 
er lo e xtricate their protege from between thcs;. two 
fires from the talons of the Hawk, on the one hand, and 
the beak of the Buzzard, on the other.* We think that 
South -Carolina must cither retract her malediction of 
the General Government, because of the assumption of 
doubtful powers, or admit, that IKM* contemplated 
course is parallel, and equally unconstitutional. Rut 
\ve go further, and believe it can be shewn, that the 
doctrine is subversive of the very State Sovereignty 
it professes to support. We do not here intend, that 
Mr. Calhoun countenances, or even admits by implica 
tion this result; but it can be clearly deduced from lan 
guage from a very high quarter, and is Rnother proof 
of the vague and dangerous nature of the proposed re 
medy. We do not here, also, intend, that State Rights 
(eo nomine) are relinquished by the appeal to three- 
fourths of the assembled Confederates, for what we 
term State Rights emanate from that source alone. 
Nor do we mean that State Sovereignty, which is in- 

The reader here remised rf UM Tvlgar id*{* "Betwixt Hawk ori 

HEM. v I 

alienable, is yielded up. We simply mean to point out 
the incoasistency and disingenuonsness of a doctrine, 
which professes to submit to the jurisdiction of a court 
of stockholders, rights that flow from nature, and can 
he relinquished only with life. This we are fully aware 
is a serious charge against the . .illifiers men, many 
of them, of undoubted patri" n and intelligence, and 
in whose ranks are arrayed L^.ac of the most distinguish 
ed sons of Carolina, and the South. It is for this very 
reason, that we have so long intruded upon the patience 
of our readers. U is because they arc strong, and are 
respectable, and are influential, that we have made an 
humble eflbrt against, what we conceive, their honest 
errors, and unintentional hallucination. We feel no 
disposition to support the cause we have espoused, by 
branding our advci-sarics with the epithet "Traitors" 
or "Disunionists." We believe the contrary; we be 
lieve that both parties are true to their country, and 
that they are striving for what they believe, its political 
salvation. They differ only a* regards the remedy. 
This, indeed, so far as the entire South is concerned, 
is the point of difference, yet in issue, and now for set 
tlement; and this, by the way, is difference enough. 
Rut, let us to the point in hand, without further di 

"Sovereignty,* say they Mr. Senator Hayne, 
among them "is a something too high and majestic to 
be submitted to the jurisdiction of a Court! God and 
our right hands are the only arbiters. Any other doc 
trine leads to abject submission ," If this language- 
means any thing if it means to imply in the term Sove 
reignty, those prime essentials of civil and religious li 
berty which our forefathers fondly imagined they be 
queathed to their children we say with them. Their 
determination is ours, and we flatter ourselves that we 
should be among the very last to yield up, whatever 
the disparity of force, any portion, however slight, of 
that high patrimony. But how is Nullification consis- 


tent with a determination so made with an obligation 
so imperative. The inconsistency is before us suffi 
ciently gross, and *he who runs may read." The 
veto doctrine has little in it of this glorious and manful 
resolution. It is a poor device, and that must be in 
deed a beggarly sovereignty which looks to it for sus 
tenance and shelter. 

The remedy contended for, be it remembered is not 
final is not absolute. It is conditional. It annuls 
the law not 111 toto not forever hut only tilt three 
fourths of the State resort to it. They claim a sover 
eign, reserved, constitutional, right, and then yield it 
up. They give to three fourths of a Convention the 
unlimited, arbitrary, uncontrollable power of an Aulic 
Council, and pledge themselves to abide by its decree, 
however unjust and unconstitutional. They say, tlir 
Tariff Law is intolerable, it is grinding us to the dust, 
it is oppressive and unjust it is a "del iln rate, palpa 
ble and dangrroTis violation" of the Constitutionand 
we will nullify it. Rut if three-fourths met in Conven 
tion decide, that it in not so that HLACK is WIIITK, 
AND WIIITK HI.ACK that it is constitutional and politic, 
we will subset I thought it be intolerable we art 
bound to submit. 

If this is not yielding up the Sovereignty of the States 
and to the very worst hanrls too, we candidly confess 
our utter inability to understand the first and plainest 
principles of logic. What has the South, and especi 
ally South-Carolina to hope from such a change in the 
Constitution? It has been justly said, that we contri 
buted more than any people of America to build up the 
magnificent structure at Washington under whose 
weight we feel, or think, ourselves sinking. Let us not 
pull it in ruins over ourselves. If it must fall, let it 
bury our oppressors. 

"No one, says Mr. Calhoun, "can have a higher 
respect for the maxim, that a majority ought to govern, 
than I have, taken in its proper sense, subject to the 


restrictions imposed by the Constitution, and confined 
to subject in which every portion of the community 
have a similar interest: but it is a great error to suppose 
as many do, that the right of a majority to govern is a 
natural and not a conventional right." 

The principle here entertained and ex pressed- --de 
nying, in fact, in the teeth of its estimated value, the 
right of the majority to govern the minority, forms the 
leading, and indeed, the essential feature in the theory 
of Nullification. We have already shown, in another 
place, and in the language of Mr. Jefferson, that, v//;- 
xo/>tte acquiescence in the decisions of the majority" 
constitutes the main pillar of Republicanism, and is, in 
fact, a natural, and not a conventional right. This lat 
ter distinction, however, is of no practical importance. 
The doctrine in its real an-1 important hearings inevita 
bly leads to aristocratic influence, and is nearly, if not 
entirely asobjcctionnnle as the avowed principle of the 
elder Adams, -that aristocracy is natural, and therefore 
unavoidable." We do not here intend, that Mr. Ca!- 
hoim s ostensible motive only appears, while the real 
lies concealed in his own breast. Nor do we mean, 
that he countenances the absurdity, into which Mr. 
Adams fell, of believing that "nature creates Kings and 
aristocracies/- But we contend, that in its practical 
operation his theory leads to the same results. What 
ever detracts from the rightful prerogative of the ma 
jority, to increase thereby the influence of the minori 
ty, is of aristocratic tendency. A pure aristocracy is 
nothing more than the rule of a minority; a mixed aris 
tocracy is giving that minority undue and dangerous 
powers. We will, for the present, content ourselves 
with controverting Mr. Adams proposition inciden 
tally noticing that of the Vice-President of necessity, 
f i% om the similar tendency of the two- --but reserving 
our objections m extemo to the latter for another oc- 
crtsjon. "Whether the human mind is able to circum- 
sc ribe its own powers, is a question between the two 


modem political parties. One (of which Mr. Adams 
was a disciple) asserts, that a man can ascertain his own 
moral capacity deducing consequences from this pos 
tulate and erecting thereon systems of government. 
Right (say they) hecause natural. The other, ob 
serving that those who afiirm the doctrine* have never 
been able to agree upon this natural form of Govern 
ment? and that human nature has been perpetually es 
caping from all forms, considers government ussir^cepti- 
bleof unascertained modification and improvement, from 
moral causes. To illustrate the question, let us con 
front Mr. Adams opinion, "thut aristocracy is natural, 
and therefore, unttvoidablf" with one "that it is arti 
ficial or factitious, and therefore cvitablc." He seems 
to use the term "natural to convey an idea distinct 
from moral, by coupling it with the idea of fatality. 
But moral causes, being susceptible of human modifica 
tion, events flowing from them possess the quality of free 
dom or evitation. As the moral efforts, by which ig 
norance or knowledge are produced, are subjects them 
selves of election, so ignorance and knowledge, thr 
effect of these moral efforts, are also subjects of elec 
tion; and ignorance and knowledge are powerful moral 
causes. If, therefore, by the term "natural,*] Mr. 
Adams intended to include moral, the idea of fatality 
is inaccurately coupled with it: and if he resigns this 
idea, the infallibility of his system, as being **naturar* 
must also be resigned. That he must resign his politi 
cal predestination and all its consequences, we shall at 
tempt to prove, by shewing, that aristocracies, both an 
cient and modern, have been variable and artificial, 
that they have all proceeded from moral, not from nat 
ural causes; and that they are evitable and not inevi 

An opinion "that nature makes kings or nobles has 
been the creed of political fatalists from the commence 
ment of the world: and confronts its rival creed "that 
liberty and slavery are regulated by political law." 

However lightly Mr. Adams may spenikof Firmer (Mr. 
Calhoim would doubtless do the same) it is au opinion 
in which they areassociatedj and is selected for discus 
sion, because by its truth or falsehood, the folly or wis 
dom of the policy of the United States is determined. 
Mr. Adams rears his system u|>cn two assertions: "Thai 
there are only three general forms of (lovernment ma 
narchy, aristocracy and democracy of which all other 
forms are mixtures: and that every Society natural!) 
produces an order of men, which it is impossible to 
confine to .an equality of fights." * 

Political |K>wcr in one man, without division or rcsjxMi 
sibility, is MONARCHY: the same power in a (minority) 
few, is AititfTOCKACY; and the same power in the 
whole nation is DKMOCHACY. And the resemblance of 
our system of government to either of these forms, de 
pends upon the resemblance of a President or Governor 
to o Monarch: of an American Senate to an heredita 
ry order: and of a House of Representatives, to a Le 
gislating nation. Upon this threefold resemblance Mr. 
Adams has seized. **to bring the. political xystnn of 

* These ar source* of iiu quality, whirh are common to evcrv people andcaij 
yr bo altered by unv, became Ihey art fouled in thr constitution of 
ture. ton* natural .Irittucracy among m-mkind has IMH-U dilated on 
eo.-iusc ,i i- 4 a essential to be coiwulcred ui the coust.tution of a govcru^ 
uieiit. It wabod> ol nun, which contai,,- tlu- tr f at t ;t collection flirt**, 
andab.ntirsmt f^ government, the brightest ornament ami K loru of a 
Aut.on; antialway, may bt ,nad f the K rcalel biffin* f S+cittl, if it 
be j,u l. -musly ii.unag.-d in the Courtilution. Hut if it not, U i* ilw.,. the 
mo, t d..iigeroas;-i, tt y, it ...ay be added, it never failn to bo the destruction of 
th, ( onunonwealtl, What nhall be done to R uard aguin-l it. There Tbu 
on.- e. M x.d,ent dwcovcrcd , to avail society of all the brndits from tlu, body o 
ncu. whch they ro capable of affonlinp, and at the ,a,nc time, prevent them 
fr,,u, -n^rmmmg or mvad.n- the public liberty :- ffln J thai L, to thro* 
H.mal torut itatt tht i<i*f rimarkablt vf them into on ai.t 
L f" la ": i t0 k ^P *" h " power entirely 



. {/Hcrica wj I/tin the pule of the English system of 
check* and balances* by following the analysis of anti 
quity:* and in obedience to that authority by modify 
ing our tempgrary. elective responsible governors into 
monarchs: our jena es intoaristoeratical orders: and 
our representatives into a nation pc!*sonally exercising 
the functions of government."! 

* * -> * * 

Mr. Calhoun thus indicates the authority upon \vliiHi 
lie grounds his theory, and, liaving for its countenance 
so much that is matter of history, we shall dwell awhile 
upon its consideration. He tells us vide* Exposition 
chat, the question of the relation which tLc State? 
aiul General Government bear to each other, is not one 
of recent origin. From the commencement of our 
.system, it has divided public sentiment. K\eh in the 
Convention, while the Constitution was struggling into 
existence, there were two parties as to what tlvi* rela 
tion should be, whose different sentiments constituted 
no small impediment!!! forming that instrument. After 
the General Go> crnment went into operation, experience 
soon proved that the question had not terminated with 
the labors of the Convention. The great struggle that 
preceded the political revolution of 1801, which 
brought Mr. Jefferson into power, turned essentially 
on it; and the doctrines aud arguments on both sides 
were embodied and ably sustained; on the one, in the 
Virginia and Kentucky resolutions, and the. report to 
the Virginia Legislature; and on the other, in the 
replies of the Legislature of Massachusetts and some of 
the other States/ 

It had been, heretofore, our opinion that the evidence 
against the authorities here relied on, was so over 
whelming. so perfectly impregnable, that no hardihood 
of disputation would have encouraged the advocates of 

Ha* not Mr. Calboan done tta aame> Han not norb a 
**+n ataayi prwcnt to hn eye io thf formation .of 
4 Jhn Tnjrlor, of Carolinr 


this or any other heresy to look in such a quarter for 
countenance or support. As, however, we have 
thought idly, and find ourselves, in this particular, 
sadly mistaken, while all our impression^ are contra 
dicted hy authority 80 high it is a duty once again to 
go over and reconsider the great body of proof, upon 
which the argument depends, and of which, our pre 
vious consideration brought us to a conclusion, entirely 
the reverse. From the speech therefore of General 
llayne, we shall tike the text which that gentleman 
and others of the creed have relied on, and proceed 
to its rc-cxamiuation, though with a serious and irre 
sistible doubt whether our optics will yet sufficiently 
serve to discover in it the most remote or passing sanc 
tion for that strange and extravagant solecistti. in terms, 
at least, which is called Constitutional Nullification. 
Better senses and an understanding of more accommo 
dating and flexible temper than that of which we may 
boast, may however succeed in an endeavor, which, to 
our present vision, is beyond all hope. 

The resolutions, after premising the true origin and 
policy of our Government, go on to say <% that in case 
of a deliberate, palpable and dangerous exercise of 
other powers not granted by said coin pact, the States, 
who are parties thereto, have the right," &c. 

We have quoted the very language of the resolution, 
and what is its plain and common sense signification? 
Allow that the Government is an agent, who arc the 
principals? They, it seems, have the right to check 
the agent when going astray, and who ever doubted it? 
We will not trouble the reader with dwelling upon the 
obvious import of the quoted resolution, which refers 
to *thc States, who are the parties," and not to any 
one of them, to determine upon the action of the 
government, equally an agent of the rest, and of all en 
tire, as of herself. 

In addition to the above resolution the General As 
sembly of Virginia "appealed to the other States, in 


ihc confidence that they would concur with that com 
monwealth, that the acts aforesaid/ (the Alien and 
Sedition Laws) "are unconstitutional and that the 
necessary and proper measures would he taken by each 
for co-operating with Virginia/ &c. [ Where is (he 
necessity of "CO-OPERATION" between the States, if 
ONE State possessed the power to nullify and so SAFE. 
PEACEABLE and EFFICIENT apower too?~\ "It appears 
to your committee/ (concludes the report,) "to be a 
plain principle/ &c. "that the parties themselves 
must be the rightful judges in the last resort/ &c. 
[Docs not the very first blush of the affair furnish 
irrefragable proof? jVot ONE. says the report, but ALL, 
or a REQUISITE NUMHKK of t/tr parti cx.~\ Nullifica 
tion by these focwmgit/ier?" in (General Convention: 
[Not by ONE sovereignty.] vide Report. 

Considering this point, though of sufficient force iu 
itself, in a comparative point of view, as of little import- . 
ance to the true merits of the question, we have argued 
it in the simplest manner. It was our object to take 
our adversaries upon their own ground: and we have* 
even there, as we believe, convicted them by their own 
lowing from the very resolutions upon which they 
have raised their fabric of its shadowy instability. 
If, after reading this protest with the ralm composure 
of men, regarding truth, and disregarding party, any 
one can believe it to have any other import than, that 
in the case of a dangerous exercise of powers, not grant 
ed, to the General Government, the States, acting col 
lectively, may discard an oppressive Government, and 
substitute another in its stead, we must say of his 
commentary with BAYES in the CRITIC - Egad! the 
interpreter is the harder to be understood of the two/ 

To dwell upon Mr. Madison s (usually called the 
Virginia.) Resolutions of 98. as a support of the Caro 
lina Doctrine of the Veto, would be entirely unnecessa 
ry for two reasons. The case, according to our Nu41i- 
fier*. must be one of a "deliberate, palpabk* and dange- 


rows violation of the charter; such as they believe the 
Tariff of 28 to he. Now Mr. Madison expressly and 
unequivocally advocates the entire constitutionality of 
said law. How is this? Can we adopt his opinion iu 
die one case and reject it with disdain in the other? 
Can any man of common honesty ai-gue *o shamelessly 
wwiitl the circle? But our evidence is far from being 
merely presumptive. It is well known, that Mr. Mar 
dison denounces as the re very of moon-struck Politici 
ans, the modern and partial construction of his draft, 
and disavows the doctrine of the Veto in every shape: 
that he protests against the perversion of his name and 
opinions, and regards in "mute astonishment" the new 
fangled remedy, which has been artfully misnamed the 
"Carolina Doctrine." The language, which, iu his let 
ter of June, 1830, to the Editor of the North American 
Review, he holds on this subject is not to be mistaken; 
and it was only at a period of time, in which "madness 
ruled the hour" that the clear and able productions, re 
cently, of that distinguished statesman, could be set at 
nought, and charged upon him as the. fruit either of a 
moral or mental imbecility, and indeed of both an im 
putation, sufficiently answered by the history of the 
country, and the folly of which is too notorious and self 
evident to need remark or rebuke. 

-That the Legislature of Virginia," says the veteran 
statesman, "could not have intended to sanction such a 
ddCtritte (as that of Nullification in the sense in which 
it is understood by some of the South-Carolina politi 
cians) is to he inferred, he says, "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 discloses no re 
ference whatever to a constitutional right in an indi 
vidual State to arrest by force the operation of a far 
of the United States Concert unions? the States for 
redress against the Alien and Sedition Laws, <u acts of 
usurped power, was a leading sentiment; and the attain 


Hftit of a concert, the immediate object of the coin-sir 
adopted by the Legislature, which was that of inviting 
the other States *to ronrttr in dec In ring the acts to he 
unconstitutional, and to co-o/nn/fc in the necessary and 
proper measures, in maintaining, unimpaired, the an- 
thoritics, rights and liberties reserved to the States 
respectively, and to the people. That In the ncccssnr) 
and projvjr measures to be tonrvrrrnthj find co-ojnra- 
tirc/y taken, were meant measures, kuoirn to the Con 
stitution. particularly the ordinary control of the peo 
ple and Legislatures* of the States, over the Govern 
ment of the Tinted States, cannot he doubted." 

He goes onto add "It is worthy of remark, and 

explanatory of the intentions of the Legislature, "that 

thtWOrdUfto! lan\ but. utterly, null. void and of no 

force ami cjfect." which had followed in one of the Re- 

solutions the word "unconstitutional," were struck out 

by common consent. Though the words were in fact 

synonymous with unconstitutional." yet, to guard 

against a misunderstanding of this phrase as more than 

declaratory of opinion, the word "unconstitutional" 

alone was retained, as not liable to that danger. The 

Resolutions were Mr. Madison s and the fail- inference 

is, that he knew something about them. It is to be sup 

posed, that he knew their true meaning, and could put 

the correct construction upon them; but as the charge 

of inconsistency or duplicity, or both, to which we have 

already briefly referred, has been somewhat insisted 

upon by some of the illustrious obscures of our own 

day and region, it may be well, particularly as the 

means are in onr power, to rebut the ungracious impu 


In the session of the Virginia Assembly, following 
that when the resolves were passed, the responsive re 
solutions of the other States #ere referred to a com 
mittee, and from this committee Mr. Madison made 
his famous Report, reaffirming the principles of the re 
solution* of 1798. Towards the close of this Report* 


he is led to inquire into the objections to the seventh 
resolution, and on this subject he speaks as follows: 

44 It is lastly to be seen, whether the confidence expressed 
by the resolution, that the necessary and proper measure* 
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 decree liable to the objections which 
have hecn raised against it. 

"If it be liable to objection, it must be because cither the 
object or the means are objectionable. 

"The object being to maintain what the Constitution has 
ordained, is in itself a laudable object. 

"The means are expressed in the terms, "the necessary 
and proper 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, cither that the means used bv 
the General Assembly were an example of improper means, 
or that there were no proper means to which the terms could 

"In the example given by the State, of declaring the Alien 
and Sedition Arts to be unconstitutional, and of communica 
ting 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 remarks would ha?c 
been as sufficient, as they are unexceptionable. 

"It is no less certain, that other means might have been 
employed, which are strictly within the limits of the Consti 
tution. The Legislatures of the States might "have made a 
direct representation to Congress, with a view, to obtain a 
rescinding of the two offensive acts; or, they might have 
represented to their respective Senators in Congress, their 
wish, that two-thirds thereof would propose au 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 
themselves, nor probably, to the States, were all constitu 
tionally open for consideration. And if the General 
Assembly, after declaring thetwoactato beunconstitut o-~ 

REMAINS poi.mrAt,. ;\;\ 

<he first and most obvious proceeding on the subject, did not 
undertake to point out U the othor States, a choiro amour 
the farther measnrcs that might become quite nece -wry and 
proper, the rccrve will not l>e misconstrued by liberal 
minds into any culpable imputation. 

Here we sec wh;it sort of tnrans were contemplated. 

They were first, declarations that the laws were unconsti 
tutional; secondly, direct rtprt9t*tmlio*9 from the Legisla 
tures of the States to Congress, to obtain the repeal of <r* 
laws; thirdly, request* to their Senators in Confess to 
propose an amendment of the Constitution; fourthly, a con 
currence of .wo thirds of the States to apply to Congress for 
a Convention to amend tl>c Constitution. "These arc nil the 
measures which Mr. Madison suggests, and he introduces 
them by saying, that they arc all "within the: limits of the 

Independent, however, of these resolutions, the 
Apostle of Lilxvty" has been claimed, from the ex 
pression of his private opinions, as the corner-stone of 
the doctrine. \Ve put gei.tlcmen upon their resources 
\nd ask them when, and how, and where, Mr. Jefferson 
supported this doctrine? His letter to Mr. Rowan has 
been satisfactorily nettled, ns merely asserting the pro 
tecting influence of the Judiciary over the unconstitu 
tional acts of Congress. Hut is it not enough to show 
that this truly great man never advocated such a paptr- 
shame such unmanly and disingenuous subterfuge. 
We can also conclusively prove, that he ftrnnoiinrrrf 
his iiHf-f/i irora/ denial of the p.r^/rttrr of xitrh u right. 
In December, 1825, not long befiirc his death, Mr. 
Jefferson was consulted by Governor Giles, to ascertain 
the best mode of resisting the Congressional encroach* 
inents, which were becoming more and more alarming, 
We shall never forget the firm, direct and determined 
tone of his response. After deploring the invasions of 
the General Government, he continues "and what is 
our resource for the preservation of the Constitution? 
Reason and argument? You might as well reason with 
the marble pillar encircling them. Shall we then 
stand to our arm*, with the hot-he*del Georgian. 



No, we must have patience and long endurance with 
our brethren, and separate from our companions, only 
when the sole alternatives left, are a dissolution of the 
Union, or submission to a government of unlimited 
power. Between these evils" [where then was thii 
middle ground, Nullification, the efficient* peaceable 
and constitutional remedy? ] "we must make a choice, 
there can be no hesitation." (Vide Correspondence, vol. 
iv. p. 421.) Mr. Jefferson here unequivocally asserts 
that between disunion and acquiescence there is no 
middle ground no universal political remedy save 
the old-fashioned method of going to law, and appealing 
to a jury of our countrymen. 

What was the species of opposition to unconstitu 
tional legislation intended by him* can be seen in every 
pngc of his works, particularly in his letter of June 1, 
1798, to John Taylor, of Caroline, in which lie por 
trays with the force of truth, the value of th j Union 
and the disastrous consequences of its dismember 

"// I* true that we ttre completely under the Middle of 
Massachusetts and Connecticut* und they ride us very 
hard, cruelly insulting our feeling*, //s irell an cjrhttust 
ing our strength tmd subsistence. 

Their natural friend?, the three oilier Ka.sU.-ru Slates, 
join them from a sort of family pride, and they have the art 
to divide certain other parts of the Union, so as to make use 
of them to govern the whole. This in not new; it is the old 
practice of despots to use a part of the people to keep the rest 
in order. And those who have once got an ascendancy and 
possessed themselves of all the resources of the nation, their 
revenues and offices, have immense means of retaining their 
advantage. But, our present situation is not a natural one." 

"Be this as it may, in every free and deliberating society, 
there must, from the nature of man, he opposite parties and 
violent dissentions and discords, and one of these for the most 
part, must prevail over the other tor a longer or shorter time. 
Perhaps this party division is necessary to induce each tn 
JeflVreon * Correspondence, vol iii. p^e 83. 


h and debate to the people, the proceedings of the other. 
Hut, if on a temporary superiority of the one party, the other 
. * to resort to a scission of the Union, no general government 
ran ever exist. If to rid themselves of the present rule of 
Massachucttsand Connecticut, we hrcak the Union, will the 
evil Mop there? Suppose the Nevv-Kngland Slates alone rut 
off, will our natures be changed? Are we not men still to 
the south of tint and with nil the passions of men? Imme 
diately we shall sec a Pennsylvania and a Virginia party arise 
in the residuary confederacy, and the public mind will be 
distracted with the same party spirit. What a game, too, 
will the one parly hnve in their hands by eternally threaten 
ing the other, that unless they do so and so, they will join 
their northern neighbors. If we. reduce our Union to Vir 
ginia and North Carolina, immediately, the conflict will be 
established between the representatives of these two Stales^ 
:MM! they will end by breaking into their simple units. Sec- 
ing therefore, that an association of men, who will not quar 
rel with one another, is a tiling which never yet existed, 
J rom the greatest confederacy, of nations, to a town 
meeting or a vestry; seeing that we must have some body to 
<juarrel with, I had rather keep our New-England associates 
tor that purpose than to sec our bickerings transferred to 

These, and the extracts which follow, show us, that 
Mr. Jefferson had, at the time ofVriting some little 
time before the vmifoant patriots of South-Carolina had 
discovered the grinding oppression. already beheld all 
the evils of the confederacy as well as its benefits, to 
the Southern Suites that he had turned it over in his 
mind, and come to the conclusion, that it would be bet 
ter to await events, and take advantage of the change 
and modification of the many interests which make up 
the whole country, than, in a fury of unmeasured pat 
riotism, fly to the evils of a new condition of which no 
thing was known. "A little patience," says the old 
philosopher, with a temper quite the reverse of the 
genuine Nullifier in Carolina, "a little patience, and 
we shall sec the reign of witches pass over, their spell* 
dissolved and the people recovering their true sign, res 
toring their government to its true principle*. It if 


true that in the mean tinie we are suffering deeply it 
spirit and incurring the horrors oft war, and long op 
pressions of eriermous deb . But \\ho can say what 
would lie the dttChiion, and when and where, they 
would end, if we keep together as we are." 

"If the game runs sometimes aguinst us at home we must 
have patience till luck turn*, and then we wiil have an op 
portunity of winning hack the principles we have lott. For 

this is a game where principles are the stake." 


But, after all, tmv Mr. Jefferson the author of these 
velehrated Resolutions? Throughout his posthumous 
works, the doctrine of the- veto, in the Carolina sense 
of the term, i* not once alluded to. The Draft of ? 99 
he hut once mentions, (Vide Correspondence, vol. iii. 
p. 428) in a letter, Septe mher .5, 1799, to Wilsoo Ca 
rey Nicholas; in which he "dtcfintt preparing /any 
M //*#," and suggests it to Mr. Nicholas, of w hose abi 
lity lie has left ample testimony. The Kentucky Re 
solutions hear the date of Nov. 24. 1799 their author, 
known only hy surmise and rague conjecture; though 
we imagine, little doubt can linger upmt my mind after 
this refusal of Mr. Jefferson, Tin; letter is, on many 
accounts, worthy of citation. 

<4 I had written to Mr. Madison, as I had before informed 
you, and had stated to him BOUIC general ideas for considera 
tion and consultation when we should meet, I thought some 
thing essentially necessary to be said, in order to avoid the 
inference of ucyniesence; that a resolution or declaration, 
should he passed." 

In oilier not to appear to acquiesce, a resolution or 
declaration against xhe unconstitutionality of the act, 
was thought as sufficient as lie appeared to hold it ne 
cessary. He goes on, and his language is worth con 

"1. Answering the reasonings of such of the States as have 
entered into the field of reason." 

The distinction here evidently implied between the- 
field qtrtoeon and action, calls for no finger point. 


"And that of the committee of Congress, taking some 
notice, too, of thc*e States, who have either not answered 
.at all, or answered without reasoning. 2. Mnking firm pro- 
tastation against the precedent and principles." 

// was Mf,<z mere prtt&it and embodying of public 

"Expressing ; n affectionate and conciliatory language our 
warm attachment to union with our sislur State?, and to the 
instrument and principles by which we arc united; that we 
arc willing lo sacrifice this, every thing, but the rights oi 
self-government in those important points which we have 
never yielded and in which alone we see liberty, safety and 
happiness; that not at all disposed to make every measure 
of error or of wrong, a cause of scission, we arc willing tp 
look on with indulgence, and to wait with patience tHl those 
passions and delusions shall have passed over, which the 
Federal Government have artfully excited to cover its own 
abuse and conceal its designs, fully confident that the good 
sense of the American pertple, and their attachment to those 
very rights which we ait; now vindicating, will, before it 
shall be too late, rally with us round the .true principles of 
our federal compaat." 

7 he "Good sense of the People? then* and the re- 
Jinx of opinion fonnt-d Jefferson* st remedy? Jlre ire 
afraid to confide in it now, or do ire beficre it less than 
at that time? Jlnd irhere was the Jrjfersonian Yi/ 
Hfication then? 

<4 I proposed to Mr. M. to write you, but he observed that 
you knew his sentiments so perfectly from a former confer 
ence, ?hat it was unnecessary. As to the preparing any 
thing, I must decline it to avoid suspicions (which were 
pretty atrong in some quarters on the late occasion) and 
because there remains still (after their late loss) a mass of 
talents in .Kentucky, sufficient for every purpose. The only 
object of the present communication is to procure a concert 
in the general plan of action, aa it is extremely desirable that 
Virginia and Kentucky should. pursue the same track on thit 
occasion. Besides, how could you better while away the 
road from hence to Kentucky, thin in meditating thi very 
subject, and preparing something yourself, than whom no* 
body will do it better. The low of your brother and the 

."IS ULMA1N6 t*OUriCAL. 

visit of the apostle * * * to Kentucky, cxcilo anxiety. 
We doubt not that his j>oiM)ns will be effectually counter 
worked. Wishing you a pleasant journey and happy return, 
I am, with threat respect and sincere esteem, dear sir, your 
effect ioaatc friend and servant. 


We think we have put the advocates of the veto 
upon their resources as far as authority is concerned: 
and conclusively shown, that the doctrine rests without 
the least shadow of support from Madison or Jefferson. 
Since, however, great names have such an influence 
in settling the question, we cannot forbear availing 
ourselves of sanction of a similar character. We select 
for the present occasion, names, of which eulogy front 
us would be superfluous those of Cheves McDufTic 
and Patrick Henry. 

Mr. Cheves, in his letto* to the Columbia meeting, 
20th September, 1830, holds the following language: 

O/i Nullification, anothcM of ihc specific modes of action 
which have been suggested, I think a construction has been 
put, in this State, different from that which Jefferson 
and Madison, and the I irginia and Kentucky Legisla 
tures intended it should bear. 1 do not say a less correct 
one. They, as I suppose, considered it tt mere declara 
tion of opinion on the part of the State of the inviolability 
of the law. Nullification in this sense has a/ready been 
adopted by this State and a majority of the Southern 

It is not habitual with us to succumb to the conviction 
of others, or yield our own opinion to the authority of 
great names. But were we disposed to do so, we know 
n<> one, whose unsupported dictum we would more rea 
dily adopt than that of the individual we liave just 

The following is a forcible illustration of Mr. M - 
Dtiflie in 1824, in whose masterly essays of that year is 

*Mr. Cheves, here referred to, ha, more recently than in the paper quoted 
Crum in the text, given hi* opinion* at large on the subject of Nullification and 
ila correlates. Se "Occaiional flen>r.." N<* 1,2, 3, published ia 
Charleston, by J. 8. Bur^e* 


to be found a triumphant refutation of this new* ami 
speculative doctrine: 

"A man who will contend th;it our government w a con- 
^cderacy of independent States, whose "ind pendeni sorcr- 
ignfy was never in any t/r^rrr rri,onnrr(f," and that i| may 
be "controlled or annulled nt the will of the several indepen 
dent States or Sovereignties, can be scarcely rrginlcd as bo- 
longing to the present generation." The several indepen 
dent States control the General Government! This is anar 
chy itself. Let us see how it will operate. Congress de 
clare war, and appoint officers to recruit soldiers for the tie- 
fence of the country. Can nny State in the Union prevent 
enlistments, hy denouncing penalties against the recruiting 

Suppose the attempt to he made, a$ it actually was, in one 
of the federal States, during the last war. The officer of the 
government is arrested and committed to prison, to ho tried 
understate law, "for recruiting; soldiers for the service of 
the United States, * to prosecute "an unrighteous war." 
\\ould the General Government be snhjert to this "control 
of an independent sovereignty?" Would not the Federal 
Courts have a clear constitutional right to pronounce the 
State law unconstitutional, and discharge the prisoner? It 
i* indeed, almoM a self evident proposition, that "the State so 
vereignties" cannot, in any degree," control the General 
Government, in the exercise of its powers." I idc intro 
duction to speech on Internal Improvement in 1824. 

"In his "One of the People- lie holds the following 
KamniAge, which we prefer quoting to any thing we 
could ofTer on the same subject: 

"What security, then, did the Convention, or in other 
words, "the People of the United States," provide, to res 
train their functionaries from Usurping powers not delegated, 
and from abusing those, with which they arc really invested? 
Was it by the discordant clamors, and* lawless resistance of 
the State mlcrs, that they intended to "insure domes! ictran- 
quility and form a more perfect union?" Was it by the 
officious interference of their inferior agents appointed for 
no other purposes, than those indicated by the State Consti 
tutions, that they intended to "insure tsa lutary control over 
their superior agents?" No the Constitution will tell you, 
what is the real security they hv provided. It is the res- 


ponsibility of the officers of the General Government, not t* 
the State authorities, hut to themselves, the People. This, 
and thit only is the great conservative principle, which lic 
at the foundation of all our political institutions, and sustains 
the great and glorious fabric of our liberty. Tins great trutn 
ought to be kepi in constant and lively rcmcmber ancc by 
every American. " p. 2. 

"As far as 1 can collect" (says he to the Trio) *an distinct 
propositions from the medley of unconnected quotations, 
you have made, on this very important subject, I under 
stand you to affirm, that in expounding the Federal Consti 
tution, we should be "tied down to the strict letter" of that 
instrument; and that th3 (iencrul (iovernment "was not 
made the exclusive or final judge of the extent of the power* 
to be delegated to itse/f, but that, as in all other cases of 
compact, among parties having no common judge, each 
party had ti right tojud%efor Use If: these may be consi 
dered the concentrated essence of all the wild and destruc 
tive principles, that have ever been advanced in relation to 

the subjects under consideration." p. 13. 

* * * * * 


"To suppose that the General Government has a constitu 
tional right to exercise certain powers, which must operate 
upon the people of the States, and yet that the government 
of each Staic has the right to fix and determine its own rela 
tive powers, and by necessary consequence to limit the 
powers of the General Government, is to suppose the exis 
tence of two contradictory and inconsistent rights. In alf 
governments, there mut be some one supreme power? in* 
other words, every question that can arise, as to* the consti 
tutional extent of the powers of different classes of function 
aries, must be susceptible of a legal and peaceable <letermina- 
tion, by so-ne tribunal of acknowledged authority, or forco 
must be the inevitable consequence. And where force 
begins, government ends." 

"Patrick Henry, in his last speech against the-Constitu- 
tion, had said, in 1788, (Wirt s Life, p. 297,) "If I shall be in 
the minority, I shall have those painful sensations, which snsc 
from the conviction of being overpowered in a good cause. 
Yet I will be a peaceable citizen. My head, my band, and 
my heart shall bc-ficc to retrieve the loss of liberty, and re 
move the effects of that system, in a constitutional way. 
I wibh not to go to violence? but will wait with hopes, that 


tfoc spirit, which predominated in the revolution is not yet 
none, nor the cause of those \vlio arc attached to the Revolu 
tion yet lost. I shall therefore* patiently wait, in expecta 
tion of seeing that government changed, so PS to be compati 
ble with the safety, liberty, and happiness of the people." 

"What Patrick Henry meant by Oil* "constitutional way," 
i.i explained in his speech to the people, at the election in 
1 70S; for, although be was then nearly sixty-three, he 
offered himself as a candidate for the House of Delegate?; 
because he believed the sentiments ami conduct of his own 
Virginia, in relation to the Alien and Sedition Law?, to be 
unconstitutional and dangerous. He said to the people, 

" That the late proceedings of the Virginia Assembly, 
had filled him with apprehensions and alarm; that thcv had 
plan cd 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 cjuiet, the remainder of his day: that the S ato had quit 
ted the sphere in which she had been placed by the Consti 
tution; and in daring to pronounce upon the validity of 
federal laws, had gone out of her jurisdiction in a manner not 
warranted by any authority, and in the highest degree 
nlarming to every considerate man; that s-ich opposition, on 
the part of Virginia, to the acts of thn General (Government, 
must beget their enforcement by military power; that this 
would probably produce civil war; civil war, foreign allia.i- 
ccs; and that foreign alliances must necessarily end in sub 
jection to the power called in. Mr. Henry proceeding in 
his address to the people, asked, whether the county of 
Charlotte would have authority to dispute an obedience to 
the laws of Virginia; and he pronounced Virginia to be to 
the l n ion, what the county of Charlotte was to her. Hav 
ing denied the right of a State to decide upon the constitu 
tionality 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 
and proper. But, whatever might be their merits, it be 
longed to the people, who held the reins over the head of 
Congress, 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, MM had as good a right to 
our confidence. He had seen with regret the unlimited 



power over the purse and sword consigned to the General 
Government; but he had heeu overruled, and it was not 
necessary to submit to the constitutional exercise of that 
power. If, said he, I am asked what is to be done when a 
people fuel themselves intolerably oppressed, my answer i 
ready: Overturn the (rorernt/ient. Hut do not, 1 be 
seech you, carry matters to thi.* length, without provocation. 
Wait at least until some infringement is made upon your 
rights, and which cannot otherwise be redrosed; for if ever 
you recur to another change, you may bid adieu forever to 
representative government. You can never exchange the 
present Government, but for a moiiurcby." //Vr/V Life of 
f/t nry, p. jy3-:)<>5. 

\\ lien the resolutions of Viri^nia were communicated to 
the other Slates, they were disapproved in coumcr-rcsolu 
tions, by Delaware, Uhode Island, Massachusetts, New- 
York, Connecticut, New Hampshire, and Vermont. We 
mention theso States, as being those whose counter-resolu 
tions are appended to the Virginia Report of 17 J J. Thai 
other State* not enumerated did not approve //tr//j, we 
take fur grunted. That any State responded to them, be 
sides Kentucky, docs not appear from any document within 
our reach. We believe no State but Kentucky concurred. 
It is stated particularly "that S jnth- Carolina took no part 
in the sentiments and conduct of I irginia in 1798, in re 
ference to the *ilien and Sedition Laws" 

In the discussion of this grave question, we have re 
lied rather upon the authority of others, than upon any 
arguments, in especial, of our own. Of these, we have liberal ust, as our extracts readily testify. Yet 
have we by no means exhausted all the points of the con 
troversy. They crowd upon us as we proceed, and 
the accumulaiing masses of papers before and around us, 
warn tis strongly of tile unadvised density of our own 
labours. The thousand particulars, by* which, the 
iiJ-w (angled theory towhidi our speculations have been 
given, might readily he overthrown, acquire new force 
and authority, to our mind, the more we examine into 
t and them. But we have now neither space nor 
time lor further remark, and will content ourselves 
with a couple of brief extract* from the masterly com 


.fiieiilnries of Chancellor Kent upon American Law. 
The train of reasoning made use of in these passng>-s ap 
pears so admirably adapted to. and so completely sub 
versive of. the notions which the Nullification doctrine 
embodies, that it would appear to have been expressly 
designed and written for the appearance of thatembrvo 
and half-formed theory of Mr. Calhonn. 

"The powers of Congress, as enumerated in the Articles 
of Confederation, would perhaps have bron competent for all 
the essential purposes of tho t nion, had they been dnlv ills- 
tnbutcd among the departments of a well balanced govern 
ment, and hern carried down, through the medium of a fe 
deral, judicial and executive power, to the individual citizens 
oi the (.moil. The exclusive cognizance of our foreign rela 
tions, Inn rights of war ami peace, and the right to make un 
limited requisitions of men and money, were confuleJ <o 

XHtftTW, and the exercise of them w .s binding upon the 
Mates. But, in imitation of all the former confederacies of 
independent states, cither in ancient Greece or in modern 
hurope, the Articles of Confederation carried the decrees of 
the federal council to the States in their sovereign or collec 
tive capacity. This was the great fundamental defect in 17*1; 
it led to its eventual overthrow; nnd it lias proved pernicious 
"r destructive to all other federal governments which adop 
ted the principle. Disobedience to the laws of the Tnion 
must either be submitted to by the government to its own 
Jisgrtcc, or those laws must bo enforced by arms. The 
mild influence of the civil magistrate, however Urongly it 
may be felt and obeyed by private individuals, will iwi be 
Heeded by an organized community, conscious of its strength, 
and swayed by its passions. The history of the federal go! 
vernmcnts of Greece, Germany, Switzerland, and Holland, 
afford melancholy examples of destructive civil war spring 
ing from the disobedience of the separate members. I will 
mention only a single instance to this effect, taken from the 
a;cnerally uninteresting annals of the Swiss Cantens. H\ on 
of the articles of the Helvetic Alliance, the Cantons wcrr 
bound to submit any difference which, might arise bet wen; 
them to arbitrators. In the year 11 to, a dispute arose be 
1 ween Zuric on the one side, and the Cantons of Schwciiz and 

Mans on the other, respecting some territorial claims. Zu- 
nr refused to submit to a decision agninst hrr, nnd the ron 


tending parties took to arms. All Switzerland was of course 
armed against /uric, the refractory member. She sought 
protection from her ancient vnemy, the House of Austria, 
and the controversy was not terminated in favor of the fede 
ral decree, until after six yenrs of furious and destructive war. 

"Had there heen sufficient energy in the government of 
the United States, under the Articles of Confederation, to have 
enforced the constitutional requisition*, it might have proved 
fatal to puhlic liberty; for Congress, as then constituted, was 
a most unlit and unsafe depository of political power, since 
all the authority of the nation, in one complicated mass of 
juris liction, was vested in a single body of men. It was, 
indeed, exceedingly fortunate, as the event has subsequently 
shown, that the State Legislatures even refused to confer 
upon Congress the right to levy and collect a general import, 
notwithstanding the refusal appeared to he extremely disas 
trous at the time, and was deeply regretted by the intelli 
gent friends of the Union. Had such a power been granted, 
the effort to amend the Confederation would probably not 
have been made, and the people of this country might have 
been languishing, to this day, the miserable victims of a 
feeble and incompetent Union. 

"Most of the federal constitutions in the world have 
degenerated or perished in the same way, and by the same 
means. They are to be classed among the most defective 
political institutions which have been erected by mankind 
for their security. The great ami incurable defect of former 
federal governments, such as the Amphyctionic, the Aehzran, 
and Lycian confederacies in ancient 11 recce; and the der- 
manic, the Helvetic, the Honseatic, and the Dutch republics, 
in modern history, is, that they were sovereignties or sove 
reigns, and legislations, not for private individuals, but for 
communities in their political capacity. The only coercion 
for disobedience was physical force,* instead of the decree 
and the pacific arm of the civil magistrate. The inevitable 
consequence, in every case in which a member chooses to be 
disobedient, is either a civil war, or an annihilation ot na 
tional authority. 

A late history of Poland, in one or two of its passa 
ges, allbi-ds us. in strong confirmation of the views 
above expressed, a few particulars, the quotation of 
which \ve cannot forbear. 


"It was in the reign of Casimir that the lihcrtitn veto 
(Nullification) or privilege of the deputies to stop u!l pro 
ceedings in the Diet by a simple dissent, first assumed the 
form of a legal custom. The leaven of superstition and 
bigotry, s,iys Rulhiere, *bcg;m to ferment and blend itself 
with all the other vires of the constitution; they then became 
closely united, and their junction defied all remedy. // 
then that in the bmnm of the Rational * 1sf>e mhty 
t//? this singular finurr/ty, trhirh^ under the jii eiejrt nf 
making the COJU/l/tf/lOJi more Jirm, ht;s destroyed hi 
Pola nd all torereign ]nncrr. The right of single opposi 
tion to general decrees, although always admitted, was lor a 
longtime not acted upon. There remained but one Mep to 
complete the destructive system, and that was taken in 1652, 
under the reign of John Casimir. A Polish noble n.inicd 
Si/.inaki, whom his contemporaries have denounced to the 
indignation of posterity, having left ihe Diet at the period 
allotted for its resolutions, and by his voluntarv absence 
preventing the possibility of any unanimity, the Diet consid 
ered that it had lost, its jxwer h* the desertion of one depu 
ty. A precedent so absurd, but so easily imitated, could 
not fail to have the most pernicious effects 

Saxony was Augustus* most agreeable residence, ?u,d a 
he was obliged to return to Poland during the sessions of tho 
Diets, he was always pleased to see them suspended by the 
tifarum ir/o, and always contrived to effect the rupture 
himself, if the deputies happened to be themselves unani 
mous. It is said that on one occasion, the Diet being 
uncommonly Jong-lived, not knowing how to force a veto. 
he turned over the Polish law?*, and discovered that it was 
illegal to debate by candle-light; accordingly he ordered his 
partisans to prolong the debate till night, and to call for can 
dles. They were brought, and immediately th 1 Poles, who 
*train at a gnat, when privilege is concerned, exclaimed 
against the violation of the laws, and the Diet was dissolved. 
This was almost the invariable termination of the sessions, 
during the thirty years which this reign lasted. The slate 
of affairs may be readily imagined: all public business was 
at an end: the chief officers were almost uncontrolled, and 
no ministers were sent to foreign courts. The pospolitc 
neglected all military exercises, and became a mere mass of 
men, courageous, it is true, but without arms, without disci 
pline, and cqurdly incapable of commanding and obeying/* 



[The spirit of the following article, which formed 
one of the political newspaper essay* of Mr. Richard 
son, is somewhat more popular than that of the long re 
view which he has more jKirticularly given of the doc 
trine of Mr. Calliouii. It is for this reason, in part, 
that we have concluded on its re- publication, with the 
risk of repeating some of those views which are more 
fully detailed in its predecessor. En.] 

Were we to take the doctrine of the veto at the haud> 
of its several advocates, we should find it mere plastic 
clay in the moulds of the potter every one frames it 
into the shape i>cst suited to his taste and temperament. 
It is continually varying its position, changing its garb, 
ant shifting the source of its operations. Like the 
(Irccian Drama 

wodo ponit floum* nwdo .7//?o?/v 
and it would he just as rational to take the brick of the 
foul of Pakephetus as a specimen of the house, as an in 
dividual Nntlifieras a representative of the party Mo 
which he helongs. One derives the right from the 
nature of things" another from the Deelaration ot 
Independence! one from the provisions of the Constitu 
tion another from the law of nature, ahove all con 
stitutions: one turns to the Virginia and Kentucky Ue 
solutions another to the law of nations: one points 
to thr example of particular States another pins his 
votive faith to the sleeve of the A|M>st)c of Liberty. 
Quoitsf/ue tandem ulnittre nostra Jtalinttin? 

We will briefly submit a few objections to the thcon . 
taking as our text-book the E.r/jwe of the distinguished 
Statesman, whose opinions we discuss more at large iu 
another place. These objections strike us, as fetal to 
the doctrine. As yet, they are unanswered, and xvt 


believe they are unanswerable: emphatically. 

The doctrine of Nullification is new and specula 
tive, but lately developed, scl lorn intelligibly stated, 
and not settled to this day. (iniinnuttici ccriunt* rfc 
How conies this? Does not the fact speak volumes 
-gainst it? Has it lain in obscurity since the adoption 
of our Constitution upwards of forty years, _ oi 
ls it a new theory? The original objection to tilt- 
adoption of the charter was, that it subtracted too much 
power from the States, but this counter check was ne 
ver even hinted at by way of rejoinder! I low shall 
this be accounted for? \Ve panse for a reply. 

By the doctrine, the right is claimed f,>r*the Slate 
of determining the extent of her jurisdiction, and fol 
lowing up her judgment with acts. This, by the law 
of nations, puts her in the condition of the absolute in 
dependence and undivided sovereignty she possessed 
previously to entering into the Federal Compact: and, in 
so doing, she rejects, and is above, the authority of the 
Constitution. True, this assumption is a m<rm/ right. 
but it i* at the same time one that is inu/iciuih/c. 

t has been urged, if Congress be the ultimate judge 
of the power* delegated to itself rejecting the autho 
rity of the Supreme Court that the will of the majo 
rity is substituted for the Constitution, and Stair Snrer- 
tignty subverted. But is it not equally evident, if a 
single titate\wl the .sole creator, employer, or own 
er of the Federal Government, can, at pleasure arrest 
its laws, that the Union is subverted? 

Again, if this right be possessed by one State, it must 
inhere in all, together with the means of enforcing it. 
without which the mere abstract right would be a non 
entity a word, not a thing a shadow, not a sub 
stance. But by what process could Tennessee nullify 
the Tariff Acts? She has no sea-port to declare free 
no citizens to absolve from Custom House bonds no 
.smugglers to pronounce patriots. She might* like the 


Roman Tribune, pronounce / e/o" I forbid it. She 
might go farther, ami add, with a sovereign State s con 
tempt, the rescript of the Emperor ^car teleat notrr 
/tldisir; - hut the Atlantic States would tell a different 
tale. They would remain precisely where they are, 
and the "safe, peaceable, and efficient remedy would 
eventuate in * </m//j/ tjn<ickcry" or "steel r/iV/. v 

It is said, that since three-fourths are required to 
confer upon Congress a mw power, the sane majority 
is necessary to settle a r//\/yi//rr/ grant of power, and 
make a law under it valid: that the Constitution was 
adopted by sovereign parties, and that they have 
the right to expound it. But the Constitution was ac 
cepted unanimously, must it therefore be expounded 
unanimously? If the method of its ratification decides 
its construction, this would he the unavoidable conces 
sion. Is this the government we live under? 

We cheerfully admit, that there may be circumstan 
ces of hardship attending the passage of a law of a bare 
majority, and that the Tariff Acts of 182H were of that 
character. It would be hard indeed that a majority 
of one should definitively settle a question of great ves 
ted interest. But would it not be infinitely harder, 
that the same law should be passed by no majority at 
<///, but by a minority? The inconsistency and con 
fusion into which the minus principle would lead us, 
irresistibly recalls the retort of Peter Pindar to the 
sophistical Paine. The latter was arguing, that since 
the majority of mankind were fools, the minority, as 
the collected wisdom of the State, should have supreme 
command. The wit moved, that it be put to vote, 
the company acquiesced in the reasoning, and Paine 
looked around triumj h mtly. Hold* says Pindar, "the 
majority are fools. I, the intelligent minority, decide 
just the contrary.* So we go! 

South-Carolina, in her Legislature assembled, has 
declared the act a deliberate, jxilpable and dangerous 
usurpation of power/ and that she will, with this con- 


stitntional conviction, refuse to pay the duties still re 
main under the protection of the Government, whose 
law she annuls---and that the Government has no right 
to coerce her. Pennsylvania, on the other hand, with 
a dissenting minority of six votes, declares that the same 
Tariff is constitutional and politic, and that she w ill and 
is hound to pay the duties. Pennsylvania, then, pays 
the imposts and South-Carolina does not and yet we 
live under a just^Government and under a Constitution* 
which expressly provides, that no one State shall re 
ceive a preference over another! (Vide Art. IV. Sec. 2.) 
Again, the power of the State veto in question is claim 
ed as a rescrrnl right. It is a right to force a call of a 
General Convention a right to settle coitftitnlional 
difference?. Now the reserved rights of the States are 
such as they had before the adoption of the Constitu 
tion. Had the States, hcforc the adoption of the char 
ter, any right to settle yfief/jfNiJ which did not c.rixt? 
The professed object of the veto is to put a stop to 
i in/j/ied power- --to check sweeping assumptions hy con 
struction. Hut. we fearlessly challenge the wildest 
dreams of Federalism, to produce an implied power on 
the part of the Generil Government equal to this on the 
part of South-Carolina. It is one of those things of 

which we may say credo quiu \mbouibik 

But if this doctrine is odious in theory, in practice 
it is hideous indeed. The United States House, Sen 
ate and President, declare a war against Great Britain: 
South-Carolina deems it unconstitutional and forthwith 
proceeds to Nullification. The war is checked a 
Convention must he called, and three-fourths decide 
against us. This will occupy a full year, if not more, 
and meanwhile the enemy is de.stroying our merchant 
men or perhaps devastating our fields and the other 
memb ers of the confederacy cannot constitutionally 
move an inch in their defence. They must patiently 
wait, nntfl three-fourths deliberately settle the question 
before tbey presume to keep their throats uncut! 


We will now proceed to show, that the doctrine of 
the veto rests without the least shadow of support from 
the Federalist, where \vc should most of all expect to 
find it. We might here put the suppoiters of the rc- 
jnedy in rather an awkward situation. We might re 
cur to our legal and logical right of placing on their 
shoulders the burthen of proving, that it is sanctioned 
by this exposition of our government. It is sufficient 
for us to deny it, and cull for the proof. But, we ..ill 
give them every advantage. The writer of the Exposi 
tion claims authority for his doctrint from the nature 
of our government, and the pages of the Federalist. 
The former ground we will examine hereafter, the lat 
ter is now before us. We have read this commentary 
upon our Constitution, calmly and attentively, and we 
challenge our opponents to point out one passage, which 
can be tortured by implication or construction into the 
remotest sanction of their creed. No. IX. discusses 
the "utility of the Union as a safe-guard against domes 
tic faction and insurrections." The writer (Alexan 
der Hamilton) defines a "confederate republic," asser- 
tains its "extent, modification and objects/ and dis 
tinguishes between a "confederacy and a consolidation," 
but not one word of the veto. No. XV. has for its 
subject "the defects of the present Confederation, in 
relation to the principle of legislation for the Statvs in 
their collective capacities." No. XVI. XVII. XVIII. 
XIX. and XX. continue the subject, with numerous ex 
amples. But the South-Carolina veto is no where to 
be detected. No. XLV. discusses the "supj>osed dan 
ger from the powers of the Union, to the State Govern 
ment," No. XLVI. continues the subject and examines 
the "comparative influence of the Federal and State 
Governments." These latter Nos. were written by 
Mr. Madison, a member of the Convention, and prin 
cipal writer in the Federalist. He here speaks of the 
encroachment of the Federal Government, "its influ 
ence over the States" "plans of resistance to be con- 


* combinations against its innovations, -but 
the Carolina doctrine is not hinted at. These arc 
the only numbers of the Federalist, that bear upon the 
question; in none of them is this new-fangled remedy 
found to exist. Where then is it to be met with? 

Of all the Hydras and chimrrras dire, * that ever 
haunted the distempered imagination of man, this ultra 
notion of States Rights is the most extravagant, ridicu 
lous and unaccountable. The State forsooth, is to nul 
lify and render invalid a law of Congress a supreme 
edict of the land and wait until it is restored by three- 
fourths met in Convention. We will wait until dooms 
day or the millcnium! We have already asked by what 
authority we can force them to call a General Conven 
tion? Where is the constitutional power? When 
was it given to the States? In what part of the instru 
ment is it to be met with? Is it expressed, implied, 
construed or assumed? Now, take it for granted, that 
we have the right to try this experiment? suppose the 
rest of the confederated States refuse to call a Conven 
tion? What becomes of us? Is not the State we put 
the question boldly and require as direct an answer 
is she not in a state of opposition unconstitutional op 
position to the General Government? Is she not a Dis- 
Unionist a Sccedcr a Revolutionist? If not, what i* 
her attitude? 

If the power of annulling a law of Congress is inhe 
rent in one State, then is it inherent in all. Now, if 
each and every State can control a supreme law of the 
land, then is the General Government the creature, not 
of all the States collectively, but of each State indivi 
dually: so that each may determine for itself whether 
it transcends its powers, or not. The twenty-four 
States each construe the law a different way and yet 
it must obey twenty-four masters! Can there be a great 
er absurdity in Government? Or is that any Govern 
ment at all, which is subject to control from all quarters 
tnd bound to fcuccumb to all? If this U not the old 


Confederation, when each State did as it pleased, and 
disregarded Congress, we are at a loss to know in what 
analogy consists. 

Hut we go even beyond the old Con federation, for 
even then, one State had not the authority it claims 
note; a State not only renders null and void a supreme 
law of the land within its own jurisdiction, hut also 
throughout the Union: for this ohviotis reason, that 
the goods, which evade the duty hy landing in Charles 
ton, will be disseminated throughout the land. This, 
is {He unavoidable result. Even in Great Britain, so 
cursed with tax-collectors, excisers and gangers, it can 
not he prevented. And, thus, we say, we have not 
even the old discarded Confederation \ve have no Go 
vernment at all. Now, if this portion be sound and 
we speak not unadvisedly when we call for an answer to 
it, ---in the one instance, thcargumcnt holds, a fortiori, 
in the other, if the assumption, in the former, is an 
aiuunaly---in the latter, it is the anomaly of anomalies. 

We cannot forbear noticing, in conclusion, the "fn- 
imis fulgoitittt:* of party excitement) that has pervaded 
our Suite., during the discussion of the "Carolina Doc 
trine." There Ls no device in politics we more 
hcftilily detest, than an ?ad captandtim" subterfuge 
an "argumentum ad homines * to the heated passions of 
men, lathtr than to their unbiassed judgment. That 
these have been resorted to by our opponents we fear 
lessly assert and will as promptly make good if called 
upon. Constraint and abuse are the natural parents of 
resistance, and we ha\e ever found it a pregnant proof 
that reason is uot on the side of those who use it. 
Lncian s tatiricul fable is doubtless familiar to all: 
Jupiter and a countryman were walking together, con 
versing with great freedom and familiarity concerning 
Heaven and Earth. The countryman listened with 
attention and acquiescence, while Jupiter strove onl> 
to convince him: but happening to hint a doubt, Jupi 
n-r turned round and threatened him with his thunder. 


*Now, ?> (said the countryman,) "Jupiter, I know you 
are wrong. Jupiter is always \srong, when he appeals 
to his thunder! 5 This is the course, that has been 
adopted by our opponents. Foiled in argument bat- 
fled in their attempts to convince caught in their 
own toils implicated in inconsistencies entangled in 
the net of sophistry they have been weaving for others 
they resort to the summary method of abuse. They 
denominate their adversaries, who are engaged in the 
same holy cause of State Sovereignty and its prosperi 
ty, "cowards" submissionists," and "torics." This 
is the sum total of their reasoning. We despise their 
taunts too much to retort them; but we call fearlessly 
for "deeds not words as proof and denounce them if 
they fail, insane slanderers. We will not have our 
positions answered by a sneer or a sarcasm. We will 
not permit sophistry to pass for soundness declamation 
for argument or assertion for proof: and least of all 
shall we permit railing and bandying epithets to pas* 
curreut for sterling, legitimate discussion. You may 
for a while, fetter the understandings of men you 
may cloud them with sophistry and envelope them in 
mist but truth almighty truth must eventually pre 
vail. There is so intimate a connection between lib 
erty and licentiousness, that it is extremely difficult to 
distinguish the true limit between them. It is the 
curse of freedom, that in order to be preserved untaint 
ed, it must be continually endangered. Tnic liberty 
is not to be exempt from all restraint to go where 
passion leads or caprice directs. It consists in doing 
not what is most agreeable, but what is most fit to be 
done: in doing every thing which docs not injure 
society, more than it benefits the individual. It con 
sists in being guided by \yhatCicero calls the perfection 
of nature the "recta ra/iV in combatting error, 
prejudice and education with the touchstone of reason 
and pressing on to that "altitudo ani mi," which con 
stitutes the true dignity, character and happiness of 


intellectual man. We must be as cautious in preserv 
ing the bounds and limits of right and wrong, how ever 
trifling the deviation as is the Hollander in arresting 
the first gentle influx of the stream, which ("vires ac- 
ynirif eundo") would gradually undcrtnine and sweep 
away every barrier* which his caution has provided 
against the encroachments of the boundless ocean. One 
fatal precedent admitted would be to the existence of* 
moral, legal and political truth, what the single drop of 
Prussic Acid is to physical vitality; ^t would endan 
ger, if not destroy the whole fabric. 

It is in government as in the human system; disea 
ses, (the Tariff, Internal Improvement, &e. in politics) 
that have long inhered to the body dislocations of 
lon standing distempers rooted in the system can 
be eradicated only by time, caution and perseverance. 
To apply a desperate remedy is to hazard the life of 
the patient. 

Thomas Paine, the greatest stickler ancient or 
modern for Republicanism, equality a:id public good: 
and the most inveterate foe to tyranny, has, in that 
compound of truth and falsehood morality and infi 
delity the "Age of Reason,* admitted "if a law be 
bad, it is out thing fo oppose the practice of it* but it 
is quite a different thing to expose its errors, to reason 
6n its defects, and to shew cause, why it should be 
repealed, or why another ought to be substituted in it* 
place. I have always held it an opinion, making it 
also my practice,, that it in better to obey a bad lair, 
making use* at the same time, of evert/ argument to 
shew its errors ami procure its repeal, than to violate 
it; because the precedent of breaking a bad law* might 
weaken the force and lead to a discretionary violation 
of those which are good** 



The theory of political economy, which the world 
carce a century ago supported, ha*, since that time, 
undergone an important alteration. Antecedent to 
the preceding age, the great souivc of national wealth 
was differently, and. as it was generally allowed, incor 
rectly understood. The old writers "held Commerce 
and Manufactures to be the bulwark of national prosperi 
ty? the latter contend that Agriculture is the only 
sure and permanent element of riches. The former 
build up their fostered favorite by premiums, restric 
tions and duties; the latter leave "to individual perse 
verance and sagacity the roa l to Wealth, unimpeded 
by the shackles of prohibition. The former decide 
the legislative body to be the most capable of direct 
ing private capital: the latter take it for granted, that 
every man is best acquainted with his own interests. As 
the more intelligent portion of mankind arc no\v pretty 
generally agreed upon as to what is the proper sonro? of 
wealth, we shall not dwell upon arguments already 
familiar; but merely, before we pass to the more imme 
diate object of discussion, observe, that we do not 
assign to Commerce the preference over wealth, since 
its operations only tend to transport and more widely 
dispense the products of the soil? nor to Manufactures 
as they only employ the territorial produce, and diver 
sify and improve its condition, without increasing it* 
quantity. But to Agriculture would we decree this 
prerogative, for the principle reason that it supplies 
the material of all our wants and all our enjoyments, 
and bestows a sort of gratuitous re -product ion, the sur 
plus of which, appears to constitute the only real in 
crease of wealth. We shall not attempt to affix the 

Thk article, written in the fifteenth year of our Author, WM delivered he 
re the "Ptuiomalhean Society," of the College 
ippoiaUneot, a* one of its owtl ereaiof exercises. 

lore the "PUomAlhean Society/ of the College of Charleston, probably by 
of its uaaal erenini exerciser. 


serrate degree of utility to these three brandies of 
labour; nor do we believe it necessary to our purpose, 
that we should do so. They mutually depend upon 
each other, and the severing of one link, would lead to 
the inevitable failure of the others. Having thus pre 
mised, we will consider the question in two points of 

Its policy or tendency to increase the prosperity and 
glory of the union; and its constitutionality or concord 
ance with the spirit of our national bond or compact. 

Our first division we will further subdivide into the 
following beads: 

1st. That it imposes a tax upon the many for the 
benefit of the few. 

lid. That it is prejudicial to the interests of the 

M. That it abridges commerce, and consequently 
impairs revenue. 

4th. That it is directly opposed to the much vaunt 
ed principle, protection, in case of war. 

Upon a glance at the bill of increased duties, it will 
be seen, that while a most exorbitant tax is laid upon 
inferior cloths, the liner pay no additional impost. We 
would prefer, in the course of our discussion, to avoid 
the slightest sectional partiality, and confine our re 
marks to the universal tendency of the law. But who 
can for a moment, fail in observing the incredible injus 
tice of this clause! While the rich inhabitant escapes 
altogether this exorbitant increase, the poorer classes, 
and c*pecially the Southern States, which can never 
be exempted from buying for their slaves, are marked 
out to sustain this illegal taxation. The limited benefit, 
even in the manufacturing section cannot escape the 
slightest investigation. It is true they have contrived 
to enlist under their banner the farmer and wool-grow 
er: but we will readily shew, under the most delusive 
promises. To the former they ensure an increased 
Consumption as if, in that case, they would do any 


thing extraordinary. Do the manufacturers consume 
more in proportion. th:in other classes of Americans? 
Or would their indefinite increase benefit more than 
the increase of any other body? If so. they would, they 
must he. giant I atagoniam: not as \ve supposed, mea 
gre spectres, worn down hy the confinement of pesti 
lential work shops: and their KH).(XX) would increase 
by a tenfold ratio. They also promise to the wool- 
grower, a wonderful recompense for his share of the 
burthen. And what is it? To lay an inter lict upon 
foreign wool -going directly in the face of fact:*., which 
prove that the a Ivantagc from such a duty is allogc- 
thcr visionary. The quantity of \\ool consumed in the 
most flourishing state of the manufactures was about 4 1 ^,- 
(K/U.OJO Ihs. Of this 4().(KX).(XX) was American, a.i-l 
the remainder (which, alone, of course the duty affects) 
is either of the finest sort, from Spain or Italy, or the 
coarsest from South America: which docs not. in the 
least, compete with the native gro.vth. Whcni then 
is this bill intended to protect? If our allegations !e 
cone:*t, it is for the lolc purpose of aggrandizing a few 
insatiable proprietors, rnd those imr.Kdiatcly employed 
by them! In 1790, when ihL* duty was only ,"> per 
cent, (and that imposed not for protection, but entirely 
for reven ie,) more than three-fmrthsof the woollenscon- 
Mimed in A neriea, were -nanufactured with profit. No 
duty was demanded no^ie re(|uired. Before the pas 
sage of this bill, with .v^ they declare they cannot 
continue the business, unl- *s an impost, amounting to 
Titter prc f .iibition. is imposed upon the nation, for their 
advancement. Have the merchants ever demanded 
the exclusion of foreign ships, or the planters of forcie^i 
productions? Have they ever cried to Government to 
pro]) np their tottering affairs, from the pockets of their 
fellow citizens? The manufacturers affirmed thry h d 
increased their cnpital from SIO.OOO.OOO to SiO.vXX),- 
000. We cannot boast of much information on the 
Subject bnt we would ask, docs this look like failure? 



Can theirs be a losing business, when it is notorious; 
that under the Tariff of 1816 they realized from 1O to 
25 per cent? But if they were on the verge of ruin, 
does it follow, that Congress is bound to support them? 
Must the interests of 100,000 men and 40,000,000 
outweigh the interests of the Union? Or, supj>osing 
that New-England would be universally enriched, 
(which is a hope never to be realized,) must this hand 
ful of men and money, (which could be easily other 
wise employed) crush the Southern StaU-s, which, by 
the preceding Tariff, had been reduced to incredible 

Thus, if our positions be correct. v:o have clearly 
established, that this bill, while it imposts upon the 
Union a merciless tribute, is calculated to exalt a few 
capitalists alone, and, placing them upon the ruins of 
their count rymen, to constitute them t-ie aristocracy of 
Anici ica! 

We have dwelt so long upon our first division, that 
we shall necessarily retrench our subsequent remarks, 
and consider the three remaining points in connection. 
We have already adverted to the enormous tax it im 
poses upon the t liion, and especially the Southern 
planter; and is it not too evident, that it deprives him 
of the only means of paying that tax? The quantity 
of cotton consumed in the world is about 1 ,000,000 bales; 
of this we produce 900,000. Now, what market do they 
leave us for this almost our only support? They tell 
us they will shortly take all our cotton! This is an in 
sult to us as reasonable beings. To tell us that the 
Northern manufactures, which at present consume (at 
the outside) 150,000 bales, will shortly consume 900,- 
000, is telling us, what we know to be impossible, and 
what we cannot believe. But they again desert this 
absurdity, to, -(unfortunately for us) if possible, plunge 
into a greater. Great Britain, (say thcv) "will pur 
chase where she can cheapest; and it would be ridicu 
lous for her to do otherwise!" This, (we would ob 


-ITVC) is on? of the dilemmas of a bad cause. For, is it 
not inconsistent to approve of purchasing cheap, and 
still declaim against our doing it? But let us examine 
the result which it involves: for we perfectly agree 
with the principle. 

Now, will it be cheaper for Great Britain to buy 
iierc. where she sells nothing, or at South America, 
Kgypt, and the East Indies, where they are willing to 
take British articles in exchange for every article which 
she would take from us, without that reciprocity? No 
and we could -multiply facts to prove the miserable falla 
cy of this belief: did we not conceive we could afford 
you no information. They likewise tell us, they 
give us r,n equivalent! And what (we would ask) is 
the wretched price they pay us to lie tranquil under a 
weight to which we are opposed, not less upon princi 
ple than policy? It is a duty upon cotton, smifl . tobac 
co and sugar. Now, this would he eminently praise 
worthy. \\err it not irresistibly ridiculous! To give 
us a duty upon our great staple! To ensure to us, that 
no foreign cotton shall enter our ports! They might 
as well impose a tax upon rice from (ireot Britain, as to 
prohibit what no one ever dreamt of bringing, and 
with which we supply throe-fourths of the world. As 
for the duty on snulF. the benefit, (were it here worth 
mentioning) is altogether possessed by the North. It 
will be seen, that the duly upon sugar, was, by the Ta 
riff of 1816 at 2\ per Ib. and that I cent is the won 
derful equivalent, (for the mock duties on the other ar 
ticles is really laughable,) which they bestow in return 
for a tax of millions! 

There is another assertion which has been repeated 
with additions in pamphlets, speeches and essays, which 
(for the most part) form a mere tissue of misrepresen 
tation and error. We allude to that, which, appealing 
to our national prejudices and feelings, tells us that 
England "supplies us with every thins and will take 
none of our productions: and that we should make our- 


selves independent in case of a war!" Tbe two first as 
sertions are so shamelessly groundless, that we shall pass 
them over in silence. That we should he prepared for 
war weave not at ull disposed to deny; hut we unequi 
vocally assert, that they incapacitate us in that respect, 
hy depriving us of commerce and consequently of active 
seamen. They declaim to us of indepen:!e ce, and 
under the imposing title oi* the American System," 
attempt to win us to .submission to their designs: cloak 
ed under the specious pretext of opposing "British 
cupidity!" But, if they mean hy independence, a se- 
panuion from the \\orld if to he independent is to he 
insulated and alone cut olF from civil intercourse, 
and disdaining reciprocal services, let them preach 
their doctrine to the wild Indian, beyond the Hocky 
Mountains to the Savage, on the sea-shore the Ne 
gro of die Gold-Coast hut not to the enlightened Ame 

We have merely set down our arguments as they oc 
curred to us, without arranging them in any particu 
lar order. We believe the truth of the views we 
have advanced, and have no doubt of the correctness 
of our several positions. We now come to our second 
division the constitutionality of the bill, and here 
we shall he unusually sueclict. We do not believe 
this hill to b in conformity with the spirit of the Con 
stitution, when it authorizes Congress "to lay and col 
lect duties," and to regulate commerce/ Can this 
bill be for the promotion of commerce, when it paraly 
zes its efforts, ami letters and tramples UJKW those who 
pursue it? Can it be for revenue when it excludes the 
only inlet of revenue? Can any one be so blinded as not 
to see, that its results are diametrically opposite to those 
which it professes? Can the advocates of this system 
deny, that the right of taxing imposts was for one spe 
cific end, and that end revenue? They do not deny it. 
But aware that their object, if openly* avowed, would 
elicit merited indignation, they shield it under the co- 


ver of the law, under a technicality of phrase, which, 
while it religiously adheres in mere form to the letter, 
is grossly violative of the very spirit of our Constitution 


This phrase, uttered by a mo;l< rn politician with 

some considerable gt^t-t and gratification, at a public 

hurbttntc* where such pleasant abstractions are most 

usually accompanied with a practical illustration of 

their points and premises, appears, by one class of our 

contemporaries, to have been deemed quite as oracu 

lar, and certainly, to the full as mystical, as those deli 

vered by the Delphic Goddess. The phrase is nice 

and narrow, and bus all the sweetness of the apothegm: 

unhappily, the import \\hich it bears is not so very ob 

vious. The whole class of disputes concerning tlir 

"right to light" the right of conquest"- --the te 

nure of power" rt if/ griw.v omitr, is one upon which 

moralists and speculative men have. wasted much time 

and toil---* /// hngHin trahvntcs rw/i//*0WA i if/.v v ---ancl 

there is none of the class, upon which they have spe 

culated more extensively and to more uncertain is 

sue, than upon that at present before UN. And if we 

err not cgrcgioush , the cause of the protracted discus- 

>ion is stamped upon the face of it. It is obscurely 

stated, and the question is indistinctly put. and what 

might be briefly and finally settled, has, by this original 

obscurity, occasioned unbounded perplexity, and mix 

ed with much learned and metaphysical research, has 

given rise to a rigmarole of unintelligible jargon, which 

bafillcs every brain, save that of the writer. The far 

ther we advance in the field of disputation, the greater 

opportunity will we have of observing, that half the dis 

putes of men arc occasioned by their attention to words 

rather than to Jth ings- --that they argue without roe- 


thod without a definite and unerring end and aim 
and without agreeing in their use and appropriation of 
terms and technicals. This is the chief we may say, 
the only difficulty in the present instance. The term 
right* appeai-s to be the source of the ambiguity, and 
its solution the nine (jna non of our discussion. 

The legal student considers the phrase in a profes- 
Monal sense, and labors in vain to settle its practical 
import with al! the ponderous Utters of the law. The 
divine recur.-* to the primitive fathers, and consults the 
authority of the "divine doctors. ?? The politician, 
armed with (Irotius, Puflendorf, and the host of civil 
ians, toils in difficulties of his own making, and with all 
the paraphernalia of speculative lore, buries in mystery 
u cpiestion that ran be in.rlo as evident as the mid-day 
sun. "Ifa perplexed rcasont-r, (says Druiuiiioud) puz 
zle himself an-1 his audience, he never fail, to attribute 
it to the abstruse nature of all speculative subjects." 
If a pert rhetorician gets entangled in the maze of his 
own conceits, he is ever ready to accuse himself of ha 
ving too much of the very logic which he wants. The 
impartial examiner m*ws to bis own reflection* enlar* 
gcs bis view, and, though he laay not come to a deci 
sive solution, at least deal s the way of obstructions, 
with which it was previously clogged by misconception 
and prejudice. 

Right/ (used as a term connected with society) must 
undoubtedly be derived from some compact expressed 
or implied; and there is no diOiculty in conceiving an 
agreement between the CONQITF.RKI) an I the roNdur.K- 
OR the former of submission, the Inttev of com 
mand after the completion of thv watf/itcst. But \ve 
know of no law of society we arc acquainted with no 
"principle of civilians we recollect no sanction, human 
or diviuc which authorizes the commencement of sub 
jugation, or permits us, (if we may use the term) to 
-half-subdue" a nation; which would be necessary be 
fore we acquired the "right to rule" or that which gives 


the right, viz: entire dominion. At this stage, man>* 
have left the question; but this solution is much too 
Mimmary to he correct. Though speculative moralists 
deny a right, and though, hy their rules, we cannot 
fchew one; yet when we contemplate the conqueror, 
our humane ideas are not shocked our love of ju>lice 
is not invaded the world does not perceive his want 
of right. But, on the contrary, his path i* strewn with 
flowers his brows arc encircled with laurel his inarch 
i> attended with the acclamations of admiring crowds, 
and the homage of the wise and the applause of posterity 
arc the rewards of his daring. Here UKASON and 
IT.KLIM; arc manifestly at \ariancc the one attests 
his merit the other his guilt. One, consequently, 
must be in error. If we were the arbiters between 
ihcse opponents, the election would be quickly made in 
favor of the latter, as original and always the same: 
against the former, which is frequently obscured by 
sophistry, clouded by artifice, and shackled by the de 
mon, either of gain, or (so called) glory! 

Whence arises the immeasurable difference between 
the morality of the heathen poets and philosophers? 
The former we find pure and undefiled by sophis 
try the latter tainted with prejudice infected with 
love of gain deserting the imperishable 60 halon. for 
the miserable, transient policy of the to fjrcfjoti. The 
cause is obvious? In poetry, the offspring of feel 
ing virtue without dross flows warm and undefiled 
from the fountain of the heart. In philosophy, men 
strive "non sibi res, sed srsc rebus aptare." It is it5 
futile boast to dive into the boundless arcana of nature, 
and in its dubious search it adopts opinion upon mere 
speculation, without reference to facts. Frail rea 
son, then, so obnoxious to error so seldom the test of 
truth "a bubble s gleam amid the boundless main/ is 
not the criterion we adopt. We refer to ourselves 
nunqucunalind natura* aliudsapientia dixit," and 
where we find opinion almost universal in her favor, we 


hesitate not to admit her decree. If it ta true, (and 
who doubts it?) tliat social beings are by the will of 
Heaven, organized into societies that governments 
are established for their support that laws by general 
compact arc necessary that for the better dispense-, 
tiori of order and justice, the people vest their rights 
in some individual or individuals conquest secures 
this slate of things, and thus produces in a degree the 
benefits of government. Moralists have told us with 
some plausibility, that the man who invades our pro 
perty at the head of :>O,(XX) men, as richly deserves the 
halter as lie who comes singly, * 4 thc highway rob 
ber" that the conqueror is but a "robber in disguise/* 
and on a Urge scale and many, though they deny the 
consequence, unable to confute the reasoning, have in 
advertently admitted the premises. But that there 
exists an essential difference cannot escape the most su 
perficial observation. The robber is considered as a 
member of the community which he depredates, and, 
Consequently, infringes laws, which are binding upon 
all. But ordinances made for the welfare of one nation 
are no criteria to another* as they are reciprocally in 
dependent, and no rule can be adopted, save the law 
of nature. Again, the robber seeks to deprive a com 
munity of its property the invader has no such de 
sign. The estate of the subject has never, by conquest 
been considered the monarch s. But his aim is tr de 
prive those who rule, of authority, and to substitute 
himself in their place, in case he can exhibit nn<]< -tria 
ble authority, viz s^fjerior strength, which is un 
doubtedly after all, the UIUHT OF cox QUEST" in 

"To this complexion it must come at last." 

To conclude our subject, let no one claim a "RU;IIT 
TO Fir.iiT," unless he can shew a "RIC;HT TO CONQUER/ 
to advance which latter claim, he must exhibit a 
RIGHT TO BE STROM;; * and the Emperor of Morocco 


has wisely and piously embodied the true, natural, and 
philosophical solution, in his brief rejoinder to the 
King of Spain s manifesto. As to the towns upon the 
coast of Africa (says he) which the King of Spain says 
are his, it becomes his majesty to know, that they be 
long neither to him, nor to me, but to Almighty God, 
who will bestow the command of them upon him, u7io 
shall be found, upon trial, best able to maintain it. 


There can subsist in no enlightened community a 
state of society devoid of that dissection that diver- 
sity of opinion concerning means and ends, denominated 
party spirit. Nor should we have it otherwise. We 
are not one of those who look with a *holy horror upon 
those temporary bursts of popular violence, which 
spring from its excess; and if we did, reasoning from 
abuses is decidedly the least philosophical and satis 
factory that can be adopted. Otherwise, would we 
renounce all government and subordination, because, 
after every precaution, villany still stalks abroad: all 
medicine, because disease sometimes bafiles its efforts; 
and every human enjoyment, because alloyed with 
pain! It is an evil but a necessary one, and its disad 
vantages are to be endured in consideration of its 
benefits. Deprived of it, the universe would bend to 
the dictates of an autocrat, moral, political, and litera 
ry: whirlpools of false doctrine would arise, all the 
nobler energies of the mind, whose exercise exalts man 
above the brute, would be dormant, and the true re 
sources of his nature remain always undeveloped. But 
it is chiefly in a political light, that the spirit which 
splits mankind into sects exerts its most beneficial influ 
ence. It is this which has shown to every unenlight 
ened people the list of their sufferings the record of. 



their rights which tears askle the cloak of usurpation 
which drags the oppressor before the public scrutiny 
which devetopes the power of public opinion, and 
points to redress in all its controlling influences. It is 
emphatically the bulwark of the people s rights the 
great lever by which they direct their public servants, 
and assert their right of supervision. It is party spirit, 
which makes us vigilant to scrutinize the actions of 
public men, and be ever on the alert to punish infi 
delity which ^puriffes the atmosphere of politics" 
and dispels the clouds of ministerial artifice and cor 
ruption, until the Constitution, Hke a mighty rock, 
stands full disclosed to the view of all who dwell within 
the shade of its protection. Party spirit is the salu 
brious gale which ventilates the opinfons of the people; 
which awakes the apprehension and arouses all the 
faculties of the pilot at the helm, keeps hrni ever alert 
on duty for fear of public exposure, and keeps the ves 
sel of Suite safely in her course. When a people i* 
free and its rulers honest when all parties contend 
only through the pure motives of patriotism, unmixed 
with the dross of personal aggrandizement there i 
the Spirit of party entirely distinct from the spirit of 
faction there it is, the "jealousy of patriotism/ nol 
the rancor of hatred; the warmth of enthusiasm, not 
the virulence of envy; the ray wliich purifies th e 
atmosphere of politics, not the poisonous exhafation 
which corrupts it: the link which binds as together 
in emergencies, when the ptablic safety is at stake, not 
the sword which severs our counsels and distract* our 

There can be little question of these truths; and 
that cause is essentially a bad one, which fears to meet 
its opponents in fair debate; those doctrines are cor 
rupt which cannot bear public scrutiny, and that party 
is a dangerous one, which endeavors to hood-wink the 
people and keep them in ignorance, and which thrives 
best in darkness and mystery. Is there no such party 


umong us? Is there no such perils at hand for our 
people, and for our country? Are there none blinded 
ly sophistry, and prejudice and perversion? Let the 
people look to it, and tat tliem answer to, and for, 
themselves. Let them ay if there is no power pro 
pelling, while professing to employ their own no 
guide in the garb of a follower no sovereign in the 
Mihtle counsellor. Let them take iheir affairs into 
iheirowiHiands, while they have yet the power, and 
heforc U is too late. They stand upon the verge of a 
precipice, and upen their next step hangs the destiny 
of the State the security of property the inviola 
bility of persons the integrity of the Union all that 
they hold dear to themselves or their children. The 
momentous question is about to be decided shall we 
advance onward in our glorious career, or bid "a long 
farewell to all our greatness!" 


At a moment of terrible popular excitement, when 
*very day brought forth new materials for the confla 
gration, and the time was full of fearful auguries, a 
body of men, representing a fair moiety of the virtue, 
the wealth, and the talent of the State, met at Colum 
bia, with the view to her safety to save her if possi 
ble, from her own soas; who, in the blindness of their 
desperation, would pull down the sacred edifice of th if 
and her liberty upon their own heads to rescue her, 
if still within their scope, from discomfiture and dis 
grace; and to rid her, peaceably and honorably, from 
an evil, for the cure of which her most clamorously 
professing friends, do, indeed, prescribe a remedy; 
but one, in our opinion, infinitely worse than the ori 
ginal distemper. An incubus was pressing upon her 
*>osom, retarding her growth, and impairing her fruit- 


fulness; and with an operation, in one sense perfectly 
Caesarian, avowedly for its cure, they would thrust her 
over the precipice on which she slumbers, to break the 
dream which renders painful her repose. "Inveniam 
viam autfaciuw" is their watch-word, with the despe 
rate Roman who enslaved his country. 

To check this spreading flame, and make our final 
elfort to arrest the strange infatuation which is hurry 
ing us on to our own destruction, without in the 
slightest degree removing the evil cf which we com 
plain; the friends of Union, of peace, of goocl order, of 
sober, rational, regulated liberty, assembled at Colum 
bia to reason with their brethren to hold forth the 
Olive Branch of reconciliation and brotherly love, to 
devise a common remedy for a common grievance, and 
to induce that union of sentiment and action which 
should spring from an union of interest. To effect this 
holy end, the tone of mind with which they convened 
was peculiarly calculated. They met, "more in sor 
row than in anger," to mourn over the distracted con 
dition of the country, and provide the cure to regret 
the divisions of their fellow citizens, and apply the 
balm to condemn the evils we endure, and strike out 
the remedy. -With such patriotic and disinterested 
views did the late Convention assemble their acts are 
before the world, and by them they are willing to be 
judged. T-iey have tendered to their brethren the 
hand of reconciliation, of union, of friendly co-opera 
tion in the same struggle, and with them it rests to 
accept it, and restore peace and harmony to our dis 
tracted State; or to reject it, and run the hazard of our 
country s being rent still further by civil feuds, or 
drenched, it may be, in fraternal blood! Heaven 
grant the one, and avert the other! But let our 
opponents, once for all, understand us. We have 
borne and forborne long, and still do so, with the fond 
hope, that good sense and good feeling may finally 
revisit our narrated community that the contest 


between father and son may at last have an end that 
our feelings and our rights would be respected, and 
our reiterated offers of the right hand of fellowship at 
length meet with a return. NVe make this final appeal 
to their liberality and , hoping for the best, are yet 
prepared for the worst. We value this Unionpur 
chased by the blood and sealed by the martyrdom of 
our sires at a higher price than our heart s best tides, 
and it never shall be forcibly wrested from us by any 
people whomsoever; who, while they call themselves our 
brethren, prove by their actions to he our most bitter 


We perceive that one of the mountain, and manly 

districts of our State, anticipating the progress of the 

now dominant party, has resolved, at n recent and very 

large meeting of its voters, not to recognise the act of 

Nullification, if ventured upon by the State Legisla 

ture. If we know any thing of the views and ulterior 

resolves of the party we represent, there is but one 

voice upon this point: and as the opposition aflect not 

to be aware of it, they had better, once for all. under 

stand our attitude, and respect it, before it be too late. 

They may perhaps discover, when the era of good feel 

ing, of which they hypocritically prate, has passed a- 

way, and a stern assertion of our rights has wrested from 

them that forbearance, which neither good feeling nor 

decency can elicit, that we do not only talk of the va 

lue of the Union, but are prepared to prove our devo 

tion to it by deeds, as wdl as words , and that, clinging 

to it as dearer to us than our lives, we will peril every 

thing, rather than see the fair inheritance we have che 

rished as our richest legacy to our children, wrested 

from us by any fartion* though they may assume the 



law and the Constitution as a cloak, and though the? 
may be eternally professing themselves our friend** 
while they prove themselves our most inveterate foes. 

But another question arisen in case of Nullification 
hy a Convention though we think such an event very 
remote upon which the Union Party should under 
stand itself, and he fully and explicitly understood by 
its opponents. In such an event, 4f we take the doc 
trine at the hands of its advocates, (and we suppose, 
they who prescribe should understand their own medi 
cine,) no question of allegiance arises, as the State is 
only exercising a reserved right* or one which is deri 
ved from the nature of the compact. If this he the 
case, the allegiance of the citizen to Federal authority 
remains unimpaired* and when issue is made up lie must 
he guided a> to tlieside lie esjxjuses, hy /m conception 
of Federal and State prerogative. If the State docs 
not and the Nulliliers admit release him who/ly, 
for no authority is competent to do it in part from 
the allegiance he confessedly owes to the General Go 
vernment, does she not com/tel him, should she invoke 
his assistance, to commit perjury, or to defend his 
whole country , against a part, however dear the latter 
may be to him? Is this either kind, honorable or pru 
dent in those, who are urging this dreadful doctrine 
which has already inflicted a deeper wound upon our 
community, its feelings, its interests, and its honor, 
than all the evils past, present or prospective, of the 
American System and its comcomitants? Or will free 
men, whose feelings as Carolinians, as patriots, as men, 
have been so repeatedly and so wantonly betrayed, feel 
themselves boimd, when no allegiance prompts their 
unhesitating obedience, to join in undermining the fail- 
fabric, reared by the efforts, and cemented by the blood 
of their fathers, merely to gratify the restlessness, tjic 
mortified feelings, the disappointed hopes, and the 
ha filed ambition of men, who have violated every tie 
of sympathy, every bond of brotherhood, every lien 
upon their respect? 



[The following Letters were written by Mr. Richardson, 
when on a visit ;vt Washington, and in close attendance upon 
the Congress, at the termination of the session, in June, 1832 
They appeared originally as editorial in the journal which h* 
conducted; and their contents have been long since, matters 
of history. But, as conveying something ot the stylo and 
spirit of the writer s powers of conversation, not less thai* 
of composition; and as exhibit ing the iirprcsnions of a young 
mind, for the first time employed in the contemplation of 
those high intellects, which light and adorft our country with 
no moderate lustre, we hare ventured here on their republi- 
cation. ED.] 

\V,ISHINC;TOV. Jtme 2. 

Strolling info the Senate to-day the House bcini; 
occupied with private bill*, we found Mr. Dickcrson 
hard at Rail Road iron , against the reduction upon 
which, he was pleading very earnestly, very clumsi 
ly, and very uninterestingly. In the course of his 
remarks, he quoted, as a ground of rejection to the 
amendment, an extract from Mr. Miller** TarifT 
<pcceh, in which it is asserted, that the contractors 
for the iron intended for the Charleston Rail Road 
would have realized one hundred thousand dollars in 
the diminished cost of the material, being duty ffcefj 
by disposing of it for other purposes, had the contem 
plated road never been earned into operation. From 
this he drew an argument against the reduction, as in 
ducing speculation, and seemed to convey the charge, 
to the Charleston contractors. Mr. Miller explained 
his assertion as a mere illustration of the onerous and 
exorbitant character of the tax. and admitted the esti 
mate to be extravagant, Mr. Hayne concurred with 
his colleague in correcting the error, which appeared 
to be one throughout; as Rail Road iron is comparative 
ly valueless for any other purpose, and especially stood 


forth to vindicate the originators of the Charleston Rail 
Road fit)m the suspicion of any intention, or desire to 
speculate upon the permission to import their iron duty 
free. An incidental debate followed, in which Messrs. 
Smith, of Md. Dallas and Dickerson participated, when 
the hour having expired, the regular order of the day 
the Bank question was taken up. Mr . Bentou s seve 
ral amendments to makceadt stockholder responsible to 
the amount of his stock to compel specie payments at 
the several offices of Discount, (Branches) to debar 
members of Congress and Federal Officers from holding 
stock, &c. were taken up, and voted down, without de 
bate, by large majorities. Mr. Bent on supported his 
amendments with great zeal and ability, but the majo 
rity, confident of their numerical strength, did not 
think it necessary to respond to his arguments. Mr. 
Ta/ewell ollered an amendment to the term of the 
charter, substituting ten, for fifteen years, which he 
supported with the usual arguments, the danger of with 
drawing Congressional control, &c. which was opposed 
by the Chairman, Mr. Dallas, on the ground that the 
frequent agitation of so exciting a question, would fur 
nish a temptation to the Bank to use its influence, in 
the intervals of its term of charter, in controlling the 
legislation of the country, and that it was advisable to 
withdraw that inducement, by lengthening its term of 
incorporation. To this Mr. Ta/ewell responded with 
considerable warmth, inveighing against the confession, 
that the Bank might, and could, exert political sway, 
and be made an engine to create popular excitement, 
and control the elections of the people. Mr. Dallas ex 
plained, that he only meant, the Bank might be indu 
ced to exert any influence it possessed, not that he be 
lieved it had ever done so, and that he only wished to 
remove all temptation. Mr. Hayne followed up Mr. 
TazcwelPs argument against the political influence of 
the Bank, and spoke at some length with great zeal, 
and considerable eloquence. He was followed by Mr r 


Clay, whose silvery voice, immediately riveted the at 
tention of the House! and who delivered an effective 
speech in reply to the various speakers who preceded 
him, without entering deeply into the question of de 
bate. His enunciation is correct, his Inn^uacc elegant. 
but seldom striking and, we imagine j lc j< rat | u , r an 
effective skirmisher in debate than a powerful sneaker 
I pon an assertion of Mr. Tazewell that the Constitution 
had ever proved blank paper to an interested majority. 
and that the restrictive portion of the Rank Charter 
would share the same fate with the Directors, he was quite 
lost; and elicited a reply from the old veteran, which 
shewed there were blows to take, as well as to rive 
and proved the Senator from the Old Dominion finite an 
adept in the art of chopping ] gj ( .. Mr \Vebstcr next 
occupied the floor, and defended the Ha,rk at consider. 
Jtb c length. His manner is chaste and elegant, but 
<*oM and unexciting, though energetic. His flow of 
h l-ua re* ,s^ the easiest and finest I have ever known. 
Mr. Dallas person and manners are striking charac 
teristic of his style of speaking mild, courteous, and 


. I entered the House to-day just as it had resolved 
itself into a Committee of the whole on the State of the 
I n.oa upon the Tariff. Mr. Dravton took the floor. 
and was listened to throughout with the utmost atten 
tion and marked respect. I find, thoroughly to enlist 
the attention of the House, to be no smairfcat. and to 
met it throughout to be a much greater. The mem 
bers generally have a great many letters to write, and 
n great many papers to read, and only occasionally lift 
their heads to attend to an indifferent speaker. The si 
lence that prevailed as soon as Col. Drayton opened his 
remarks, was a certain indication of the high estima 
tion m winch his opinion is held, and an evidence that 



however little dispo^td to profit by, they were willing 
to listen to his emphatic warning. He opened with a 
chaste exordium expressing his conviction, feelingly, 
hut without menace, of the interesting an 1 momentous 
character of the question now submitted to the discre 
tion, good sense and patriotism of the House of it* 
desolating effects, moral, as well as physical, in the 
South of the state of feeling of alienated feeling it 
had engendered and its intimate connection with the 
peace and harmony of ihe Union. He did not intend 
to discuss the constitutional question, but v.onld content 
himself with expressing his firm conviction, that the 
system was utterly at variance with the spirit, if not 
with the letter, of that Charier. He would not discuss 
at large, its policy, but he was equally settled in his 
belief, that it was partial, unjust and oppressive. His 
object in rising \\as to indicate the spirit, with which 
IK thought the subject ought to be taken up and dispo 
sed of. That if it were maU: a contest instead of a com 
promise, no laurels would be won on either side. He 
was aware he was in a minority upon both points upon 
which the question had hitherto turned, but the mino 
rity was large, and respectable, and intelligent, and IH- 
tet extc tf knowing* because y<W//j<, r , their burthens, and 
that it was vain to talk of delusions, and imaginary op 
pressions. He trusted such allusions would neither bv 
made, nor relied on that a totally different course 
would In pursued, or he seriously feared for the Con 
stitution. it was formed with a different spirit, it could 
be preserved only by a different spirit. The system in 
its present form could not exist, and the United States 
exist also. 

He wished to impress upon the House the necessity 
of a middle ground. He could neither agree with \\\* 
colleague, (Mr. McDnflic) nor with the friends of the 
System, and he felt bound to say why lie differed from 
the former. He believed the principle, that the bur 
then fell upon the- constimeis of all clas>cs. and u|>onth< 

\l KM A I N S 1 ( U . ITI r \ I . 73 

Cotton grower only in the rapacity of a consumer, to lie 
incontrovertible^ that the price of a staple. produced 
in such large quantities, Kttvtng sncfi extensive markets, 
as cotton, was not regulated hy local legislation: it 
was settled by the quantity, quality and demand in 
other words, as every thing else, idtimr .tcly hy demand 
and supply. lie did not mean to underrate the evil, it 
was sufficiently great without resorting to exaggeration. 
As to the position, that the TariflV/iw/W / i, r <Wv, he 
required hut one proof to convince him of its soundness. 
When the friends of the system should demand a low 
er rate of duties in order to raise the price which 
was manifestly their interest he would hecome a con 
vert to the force of the ancnmeni. lie felt no inclina 
tion to destroy the system "at one fell swoop,"" he 
only desired a gradual reduction to a revenue system. 
He explained another objection he had to Ins col 
league s hill, and shewed that it recognised the princi 
ple of a protective Tariff. He also dwelt upon the 
doctrine of the veto, which had been glanced at: and en 
tered into an argument to shew it^ utter discordance 
with the letter, spirit, and entire principles of the Fe 
deral and State Governments. lie concluded with im 
pressing upon the House, the necessity of taking up 
the subject in a proper spirit of divesting themselves 
of all partiznnship and meeting the question as a great 
national concern. 


Yesterday Mr. White, of Tennessee, occupied the 
Senate two hours iqwn the Rank question, without con 
cluding his argument. He brings it to a close to-day, 
and will, it is said, move that the subject be referred 
to the Secretary of the Treasury to report upon. 
That it has hee prematurely pressed upon Congrcsn 
for the purpose of influencing the Presidential question, 
there cannot be a rational doubt, and the object of such 


a it- IV mice would be to deter the question to llie next 
session, which is in fact too soon to decide upon an insti 
tution wielding such tremendous power for good or evil, 
and defeat the manoeuvre of an opposition, whose ob 
ject is not the good of Jie country, Init to fetter, har- 
rass and destroy the present administration, and ride 
into oflice upon the credulity of the ]>eople. That the 
President lias fully made up his mind as to the course 
he will pursue in the matter, no one can doubt, who 
knows his character, his unswerving resolution to fulfil 
his pledges of office, without faltering about consequen 
ces. Fortunately, in any event, the malice of his 
enemies is impotent, and we consider it no slight indi 
cation of the soundness, good sense and integrity of the 
American people, that despite the reckless, unceasing. 
unprincipled obloquy that has been heaped upon the. 
administration, the still remain faithful to the Pwi- 

f/citt of t/u - Pc j/ile, and will bear him triumphantly 
through the storm, which the plotting malice of his 
cncmks has prepared to overwhelm him. We are 
gratified to be able to assure the friends of den. Jack 
son, that Ms health and spirits are all they could 
desire them. 

Ill the House, yesterday, Mr. Da via, of Massachu 
setts, addressed the Committee of the Whole for three 
hours upon the tarillV He especially pitted himself 
against Mr. McDufitc, whose ultra notions, he lumin- 
ousiy analyzed, and. we thought, sometimes, conclusively- 
refuted, though the general and really strong features 
of the question, ami some of Mr. McDuftie s original 
and powerful illustrations, he either failed fairly and 
fully to meet, or studiously avoided. He is the strong- 
horse of the manufacturers, and is evidently a man of 
nervous, well disciplined mind, and a practical debater. 
Mr. McDuflie, unfortunately, sometimes afforded him 
room for cavil, hut otherwise his apology for the sy<- 
tera wa,s trite and glaringly unsatisfactory, and made a 
Unking contrast to the overwhelming mass of objections 


adduced by that gentleman. In this speech lie made 
no addition to the principles and illustrations he used 
in his reply to Mr. McDuflie, in 1830. nor did he ap 
pear to as much advantage as \ve had hern led to expect 
from the perusal of his remarks on that occasion. 
When he concluded, Mr. Mitchell, of S. C. took the 
floor, and addressed the Committee for two hours, in a 
speech of uncommon hriiliancy and power. He opened 
with a chaste exordium, pointing out the absolute ne 
cessity ef a compromise between the two parties, 
(hat it was imperatively demanded by the state of the 
nation, and that whatever were the obstacles that in 
terposed and pride of opinion, and sectional interest 
both militated against it they ought, and must he 
satisfied. He compared the situation of the House to of a session he Irad witnessed during the last war, 
and drew a vivid sketch of the state of the country at 
ihat period its extreme poverty and embarrassment, 
&c. He delineated with great felicity the disputes 
and divisions occasioned by the proposition and adjust- 
meat of internal taxes the discordant interests created, 
and the difficulty in effecting <\ harmonious compro 
mise. The members from the interior opposed the 
tax on whiskey, as injurious to their constituents, while 
the members from the cities and sea- board as strenn- 
fMisly objected to the stamp tax on the same ground of 
sectional interest. That the distracted state of the 
country loudly called for compromise, and that, amid 
all those contending interests, the call was heard and 
obeyed. He said, he doubted not that the same, pci- 
haps greater, difficulties, prevailed now, but that the 
same, if not greater, necessity for compromise existed, 
and he invoked the patriotism of the House to be equal 
to the sacrifice. He said that he had observed a spirit 
of conciliation and compromise every where but on this 
floor, and that the opposite disposition had never been 
so apparent to him as it was now evidenced by the 
amendment of tho gentleman from Pennsylvania, Mr, 

78 U&JlAlN* - IHJL1TICAL. 

Stewart. He then instituted a comparison between 
the amendment in question and tlie clause in the bill 
tor which it is substituted, and by entering into de 
tails, and analysing and examining the bearing of both, 
proved that the former was palpably the more oppres 
sive of the two. He sketched the origin and progress 
of this amendment, traced its history back to its origin 
in the Hartford Convention, by which it was rejected, 
subsequently to Mr. Mallary. by whom it was proposed 
as an amendment of the act of 18:2H, and then a second 
time rejected! And this projwsition, he went on to 
say, which was first conceived and broached by the 
famous, or rather infamous Hartford Convention, and 
was rejected in 18\iS by both Committee and House, as 
loo ultra, exorbitant and oppressive, was now seriously 
iiropnscd as a measure of cnttciiiution (tud ttniprQmi&t 
He then referred to the other amend ntents that had 
been submitted to the Committee, examined their pro 
visions at some length. and proved, that they exorbi 
tantly increased the duties they pretended to diminish. 
He observed that all the promises of relief held out by 
the bill, were couched in language, sufficiently intelli 
gible, but the burthens were so wrapped up and con 
cealed by the details of manufacturing and commercial 
phrases aud jargon, as to be often inscrutable. 

He next took up the chief hill, (Mr. Adams ) and 
dwelt upon its principles and provisions at considerable 
length, and with great acuteness and ability. He said, 
that desirous as he was of a compromise, and, if he 
knew himself, it was the first wish of his heart, he 
could not recognize the principle upon which it was 
founded. That the bill proposed the laying of a reve 
nue beyond the necessary go vern mental expenditure, 
which he conceived to be the limit of constitutional 
taxation, and that this feature alone was enough forever 
to deprive it of his support. He said, its lead ing prin 
ciple was the broad ground assumed bv Alexander 
Hamilton in his report on manufactures, that the power 

HKMAIVS I Ol.ll l< A I.. 7V 

i)l Congress to ax was plenary and indefinite, as also 
ihcir power to appropriate the proceeds of taxation lo 
any object within the scope of the terms, ill..- U-OHMIIOII 
defence and general wclf;ii\.." lie said. Uiat thi> dor- 
trine had received the marked reprobation of the peo 
ple by their decided censure of the Federalists in IHOO, 
expressly on lhi.> ground thai the overthrow rf this 
party \\ as attributable solely to the abhorrence of the 
people to this sweeping doctrine, for they \\ere other 
wise able, and influential; >omc of them revolutionary 
pat riots -many of them members of the Convention 
that framed the Constittition and all sustained by the 
sanction of lien. Washington: that, notwithstanding 
all these circumstances in their favor, the people de 
creed their political death for this one olleitcc. lla>- 
ing established this point, he went on to &!iow, that the 
people had never subsequently received this principle 
iiuo favor that it w;> recognised in none of the vari 
ous Tarifi hills beyond the single exception of the JKI\- 
ment of the national debt, liy way of illustration, he 
referred to the acts of IS H , 1824, and 18:8. and alM) 
in further confirmation of his position, and to prove the 
sense of the people to the late Free Trade and TarilV 
Conventions, and to the President s Mcs>ay;c. He also 
referred to several resolutions which had been laid be 
fore Congress, to Mr. Clay s among others, which seem 
ed to sanction his opinion, by providing for the diminu 
tion of the revenue, \\hile it sustained the principle ol 

Vie commented on various other resolutions, to prove 
that public opinion was decided, and settled that jM>int. 
After settling this standard of taxation, as the only 
constitutional one, Mr. M. proceeded to enquire how 
the taxes, under such a regime, should be assessed: 
contending, that there was but one method- which 
combined all the requisites of a Republican scheme of 
taxation^ simplicity, equality, and justice, which 
was the similar rate of ad ratnrem duties on all article* 


whatever. He proceeded to institute a contparisoif 
between the simplicity and obvious working of this 
scheme, and the intricate nature and difficult adjust 
ment of minimum duties. After some further re 
marks to prove, that the power to tax was confined to 
raising the necessary revenue, and not to extend to 
protection, lie drew a parallel between the state of the* 
manufacturing interest in "83, when the true "Ameri 
can System/ free trade prevailed, and hi )807 f 
when the embargo and noii- intercourse law laid the 
foundation of the restrictive policy* and proved by 
argument clear and illustration conclusive, that their 
condition was decidedly more flourishing during the 
former period, lie stated, that Mr. Gallatin in 1810, 
by the direction of Congress, investigated the state of 
the manufacturing interests, and found its capital one 
hundred and twenty-seven millions, since which time, 
bolstered up, fostered, and extravagantly petted as it 
had bee!), it had increased only out- hundred and 
twenty- three millions. He said, it could be established, 
from the munufacturei s own showing, that the system 
had not worked to their advantage that the Tariff of 
18l<> was ivpcalc.l by them as inemVu iit that that of 
18 l ^i had not prwi-d beneficial, and that that of 182H 
was censured by their own leaders, Niles, Carey and 
others. Me said, that the only leading politician on 
that side, who had claimed any especial benefit as re 
sulting from the system, was Mr. Clay; v, ho after draw 
ing a brilliant sketch of the prosperous state of the 
Tniou, an unprecedented progress of iiiuiK use resources, 
and gratifying prospects; had summed up by attribu 
ting this sU\te of af lairs solely to the Tariff! Mr. Mitch 
ell said, he was not altogether satisfied of the correctness 
of the picture the gentleman had drawn that there 
were dark, as well as bright, points in the canvass 
there were shadows which obscured the brilliancy of the 
picture blots, which mar the beauty of its colouring, 
tnd irregularities, which destroy the harmony of it 


proportions. He would not stop to illustrate his mean 
ing by reference to particular sections of the country, 
but he could not but be irresistibly remi tided, by the 
gentleman * propensity to collect every happy result 
in our widely extended I nion. and attribute it indiscri 
minately to the "bill of abominations, of an anecdote 
he had met with in French History. \Vhcn Marshal 
Turenne was at the zenith of hi* fame, it happened on 
some state occasion, when the Monarch and his nohl s 
had assembled to do him honor, that the dancing mas 
ter of his youth was perched in the gallery, viewing 
the pageant, though ignorant of the name of the indi 
vidual, who was the occasion of it. A bystander at his 
request, having explained the occasion of the fete, and 
recounted the civil and military services of the distin 
guished guest, was not a little astonished (o hear the 
following summary and v;ry satisfac/ory solution of his 
greatness at the hands of the delighted ntaitrc de dtnisc. 
Sare, he is all you say he is one very great man, but 
how could he be odare dan un grand fionune. w hen he 
had de supreme felicity de ecstatic beatitude, and 
tie sublunary bliss, to receive instruction in the sub 
lime art de gavotte from myself!! Qifoimfjnc tandem 
Catalina. abut ere fmtientia nostra? 
* * * * * * * 

After the adjournment of the House we strolled into 
the Senate, and found Mr. White in the middle of his 
very able argument against re-chartering the United 
States Bank. His arguments covered every ground 
pro and co/i, exhibited great familiarity with details, 
and research of a very thorough and extensive charac 
ter. Mr. White had evidently prepared himself with 
considerable pains, and embodied a mass of information, 
which provechus lal>or had not been thrown away. He 
did not hesitate to intimate, that the immovable vote 
which would be given by the Senate would not be 
final, that the President would give them an opportu 
nity of reconsidering their decision, and that the friends 



of the administration did not fear the result among the 
people. When lit; concluded, Mr. Benton took the 
floor, and opened with sonic very eaustic remarks upon 
the species of dumb legislation, which had been adop 
ted by the omnipotent majority. His rebuke was pi 
quant in the extreme, and though creating an univer 
sal smile, seemed to have no other cfl ect upon the afore 
said omnipotent majority, who, wedded to their darling, 
and obstinately inaccessible to conviction, forthwith 
proceeded to vote down every motion to adjourn, in 
order to force the question forthwith. Mr. Barton, 
npon the failure of the motion for adjournment, pro 
ceeded briefly to recapitulate most of his leading objec 
tions to the charter in its present form, and to advo 
cate his proposed substitute, found in several smaller 
institutions, with more limited charters, in diil cmit 
parts of the Union. He had not taken his seat, when 
a motion to that ciTect having prevailed, the Senate 
adjourned at half past five. 

June 20, 

The Hon. Charles C. Johnston, a member from Vir 
ginia, who by some casualty was drowned in the dock, 
at Alexandria, was yesterday committed to the place 
of his final repose. The funeral ceremony was in the 
highest degree solemn and impressive. The service 
was read in the Hall of Representatives by the Chap 
lain, after which the procession, to the number of a 
hundred carriages, moved to the National Cemetry, a 
lonely spot, about two miles east of the Capitol, where 
the remains of such members as die at the seat of Gov 
ernment arc deposited. Their places arc distinguished 
by common monuments a small freestone pillar, based 
on a pedestal, and surmounted with a conical top of a 
plain, but neat, appearance. Here are about twenty 
members deposited; among them Hon. John Oaillanl. 


and Maj. Gen. Jacob Brown, of South-Carolina. The 
monuments of George Clinton, and Elbridge Gerry are 
the most conspicuous, being elegant pyramids of turned 
freestone, supporting marble vases, and the former 
ornamented with a bust of the deceased. 

The House to-day was hard at the Tariff, still in com 
mittee. No decisive vote was taken, but the amend 
ments were generally favorable to the South. The 
subject will probably get into the House the day after 
to-morrow, when our fate \\ill be quickly ascertained. 

In the Senate, at the usual hour, the special order of 
the day the Public Lands was taken up, after some 
skirmishing upon a motion to go into Executive busi 
ness, which appeared considerably to ruffle the Ken 
tucky Orator, who was prepared to hold forth, and the 
expectation of hearing whom, had filled the gallery and 
colonnade to overflowing with ladies and citizens. He 
sj>oke for four hours in, we were told, his most effective 
manner; and certainly displayed a great deal of ingenui 
ty, united to unrivalled elegance of delivery. His 
views were, with a little embellishment of style, 
and occasional facctia*, substantially the same as 
tho>c of his report; and we thought \vcre generally 
sound, except upon the question of territorial sove 
reignty: which he argued loosely, and to which he 
attached little importance, or was conscious of weak 
ness. \Vc have not time to give an outline of his argu 
ment, which will no doubt soou appear in print. We 
observed Messrs. King and Benton taking notes, and 
the former has the floor for to-morrow. He is an able 
speaker, acquainted with the subject, and an ani 
mated discussion is looked for. 



lu a speech delivered during; the discussion of the 
Tariff last session, by the Hon. Richard Henry Wilde, 
of Georgia, the speaker steps aside from the heated 
atmosphere of politics and the dull detail of statistical 
items, to refresh himself in recalling associations less- 
embittered by partisan feelings, and pays a classical 
tribute to departed and contemporary worth. He has 
arrived, in his sketch of the rise and progress of the 
restrictive system, to its critical state at the commence 
ment of the fourteenth Congress, the chief characters 

\Ve publish HI the request of its n*si|H?ctn! author, the follow ing extract of* 
[filer, aiMie rd to in, and regret, that Lis forbearance towards oar own opi 
nion-, forbid* our giving he entire communication. \\ a cannot but desire a 
ontinuaiM-e of hi* favors, though they should only s-r\- -ill I more to reveal 
points of dillerence between us; and being conscious onrselte* of ne "atnaha- 
Itstntonia," nnd absolving our friend from the "HI* nti* gratis*iinu$ error" 
of weak minds, we should rather he. inclined to hope, tS it b\ a closer coiinno- 
nion ultruimn on both *idex, might be cured liille excrescences nnd irrepn- 
!itriiie< worn nwav nnd tin: gwicikl hurf.urs of opinion brought nearer toge 

"I have road, \vilh jlea.sure, your stric tares on the most distingnishcd Ora 
tor* of thi* country. I bclime no deliborulixe assembly in the world erer D<HM 
ccftscit a higher runU nn regard- nil the n*i|ui*ilos of the tini-hed Orator nnd 
S alotnan, than the Congress of thu I nited State*. You tuny, indeed, find 
more of iho grucev of elocution, nnd peih.-p-. more |M I-U:HI\- power in some 
of thii productions of <iu>e>-e and Koine. I ut these great e\h:bition ofgeniu 
ire of rare otfiiireiu-e, ;m<l scarcely itiy of them contain nnv great lesion. 1 * of 
instruction. I hey iidd linle, ifnny tiling, to the flock of human knowledge. 
They remind u* of the Orator, but not of the Statesman. They conduct u* 
to no important principles of legislation. Almost ull of them are theeljoiN ol* 
(he advocate. Individual, not rational \vionp-pa\e them birth. On the con- 
tr.iry, ;\ery question that ha.4 greatly agitated our National C onncil and inter 
ested the people, hu involved in the discussion of it, some ef the most difli- 
rult aiid important principles of human government ;. 

* 4 \\e ha\e KCII those great and ultimate que^ions of liberty, freely and 
ftmiliurlv ^Hewned, in our Legislative Halls, for the first time in the world. 
That which, in other countries, H consieV red solely the province of the phr- 
hi-opher, in here the hiiine*4 of tli htatesman. In other countries, the al>- 
Hract principle* of political right have nlwuvti a|ipe:tied dry, repuUive, and 
r.aprofitahle, while they are studied and dUeussed as the foundation of national 
prosperity. \\ e refer to them, every important art of lesistation. Hence it 
has happened, that the eloquence of the I*. States is characterized by a calm 
and argumentative style, b omc of our orators frequently become metaphvsi- Hut it H the mcMphysic.4 of liberty itself. Of tin-, character I would 
Instance th: spoi";!i of Judge, Rowau on I ool a Resolutionf*. Such 


of which he has selected to exhibit his skill as a lim 
ner of intellectual features. The portraits are gra 
phic, and evince the hand of an artist, though occasion 
ally rather too poetically colored to convey a very 
distinct and definite impression: and sometimes too 

ought to bo familiar to us. He that doe* not rcli>h and understand the-o argu 
ment*, H not fit to legislate for freemen. The peeche of Mr. MeDwtle, I 
apprehend, have nevtr been surpassed for clearness of style, nnd irresistible 
reasons. Those who deny hi* conclusions, are compelled to deny *cienc 
itself. He illustrates his principles w ith more perspicuity, with a greater 
variety nnd power of determination, thnn can be found in the best writer* on 
political economy. He understand *, and <\.n command, the beauties of r!o- 
ration. Tut he never dine-over* the Orator until he has finished his argument. 
I have mentioned thee instance* to illustrate, my idea of the characteristic 
feature, of American eloquence. I readily admit, that there are many admira 
ble specimens of commanding and persu.i<i\e eloquence in the deflttm of tho 
Hritish Purli-iment. Hut I maintain, that if we in-oU for intntction in thu 
nature of government*, or the great maximsof human legislation, the *peec|e* 
in the Parliament of (ireat llritain would be our h>t Mudy, nnd those in the 
Congress- of the I nitcd States our fmt. Thw character of our deliberative 
eloquence hns undoubtedly resulted from the p**ctiliar nature cf our conftnio- 
racy. Allow me to dwell upon this subject a little. The principles of liberty- 
are not only the foundation of our povernmti>t, but our whole political fabric 
P TJves a phock whenever those principle* are lot ciht of. llence in even 
act of mi0\ernment the legislator is compi lled to w his emir whether he 
will correct it or not. An is5ao is immediately made up between him and 
lhoe wlio snrier from his partial and oppressive laws. A content enu in 
the course of which those principles are again brought into action. Agnin 0>c 
whole political machine move* on in harmony . for those principles constitute 
its wheel.*. In other gONernments, many superficial expedients of tyranny are 
resoited to, to keep up ,1 motion in the body politic. For thorough reform 
generally causes delay, and sometimes occasions n painful reaction. Hut their 
m!er* always delight in an easy and rapid motion. Even in this country, 
Jhosic cheap and ready expedients arc sometimes persisted in, until a wheel is 
broken, or > complete!) obstructed, that the whole *y>tcm fceln the shock 
from the centre to the extremes. In this cause tiiueh puflering is occasioned, 
and liberty grcatl? endangered. For our ruler* are reluctant to make thorough 
repair*. They protest agninst the delay. They tell us, if we compel them to 
-(op in their swift career, we *hall make the government "a rope of wnd " 
We, however, orgc the necessity of some delay for the iake of freedom. We 
tell them they must reinstate the original wheels upon which our government 
first b -gnn to move, for that by their present contrivance the vehicle w crush 
ing us to death. We inform them, moreover, thai thwc wheels are the several 
ftates of our Confederacy. But they reply: "It is presumption in the Stalest 
to give themselves *o conspicuoux a place. Il in true, they wheeled us rao 
rcsufolly through ihe Revolution: But then ihe Prople, not the Statti, 
formed a new <>overnment the only wheel of which in a majority in Coo- 
re*i. And a* for \our being crushed by this wheel, we tell yon, il is all a 
delation. I not th w government ptwperoot? Do we nol nde delightfully? 
Ten mil! ion* annually for the American Pynttm ! t triumph f! /7erf> 


much colored or inflamed* as may be, by prejudice, 
to be implicitly followed. It is not that we charge 
upon Mr. Wilde the absence of discriminate praise 
or censure. They would equally suppose what can- 
not exist, and by that means defeat the object of criti 
cism which is to balance excellencies against defects, 
and sum up the account. Examples of perfect excel 
lence sup]M)sing for a moment their existence are 
insipid in their delineation and useless in their influ 
ence. They arc unaj/ftroachabfe. and when nil ex 
ample is most efficacious, in inviting to imitation lost 
to the world. Hut we rather think Mr. Wilde s poeti 
cal prejudices have somewhat warped his judgment, 
and in meting out his praise, he is a little afraid of 
committing himself in favor of an opponent. 

We have said, that some of Mr. Wilde s portraits, 
(hough striking and characteristic, did not appear to us 
just or fully so. We would instance Mr. Clay, to 
wards the character of whose heart, we think, he 
has been too forbearing, while to that of his head, he 
lias been scarcely just. We trust we may say, without 
derilectiou of our political opinions, that Mr. Clay is 
by no means what Nature intended him to be. anil is 
much more distinguished for what he j/jrir/i/havc been. 
than what he is as Cicero said of a contemporary 
"non etitm res laudanda. acd spes." Impressions of 
character are derived from a thousand trivial sources. 
which cannot afterwards be collected, and the facts. 
upon which our opinion is founded, have vanished 
from memory, and it would be impossible to recall them. 
as the image in the mirror, when the object has disap 
peared. Perhaps our political pupilage has prevented 
our imbibing prejudices or well founded objections. 
which immediate contact and heated campaigns may 
have engendered, and thence we may be able to form 
a more impartial, if not more correct estimate. We 
must confess that our opportunity of making up the 
opinion we advance has been but slight, and our ver- 


diet should perhaps he received with many graces of 
allowance. In debate, as m every thing else, Mr. 
Clay is bold, fearless and enterprising, underrating all 
difficulties, or relying securely upon his ability to sur 
mount them. In the skirmish of controversy he is 
powerful, and we take him rather to be an elite live 
debater, than an able speakerfruitful in expedients, 
shrewd in his views of management mawruvrc. and 
vigilant and untiring in their execution. Nature si-cms 
expressly to have intended him for the sphere he fills 
a crowded scene, where the bickerings of party and 
the melee of personal conflict elicit all his energies 
to wield them to his own advantage where sympa 
thies are to be enlisted, prejudices aroused, and local 
interests called into play, and where a master spirit is 
wanted to urge the lukewarm, the timid and the con 
scientious, and repress the vivacious and precipitate 
alternately to excite and allay the "tempestuous tonvnt, 
and, as it were, the whirlwind" of human passion. 
Mr. Clay is calculated to wield an almost magical influ 
ence over a deliberative body, but the fascination of his 
manner has not latterly, we suspect, been aided by- 
application to his legislative duties. He has in prefer 
ence devoted himself to the calculations of his prospects 
and their improvement, and, we think, has been influ 
enced by "the last infirmity of noble minds, - to the 
prostration of his intellect, as well as of his hopes. 

Toward Mr. Webster too, Mr. Wilde though he 
has been just, is not fully so. Mortifying as it may be 
to a Southern man, we cannot but feel, that he is far 
ahead of his coadjutors in either House of Congress. 
Two parts of the noble eulogium pronounced by Patcr- 
culus* upon Cicero may be justly applied to him; in the 
third particular we conceive him to be generally, if not 
entirely, deficient; and the highest praise we can award 
to him and it is high though more appropriate to the 

"Ornftia nnimotidit, inferno mplr T et(, fl*q*rttti* illuminarit." 


Philosopher than the Orator is that by Cicero of 
Plato "dum lego assentio." His command of lan 
guage is the finest we have ever heard, flowing in one 
powerful and unbroken current, never betraying him 
into a moment s hesitation, or hurrying him upon an 
inelegant expression. His style is neat, pointed, and 
nervous, his gestures few, unstudied and not inelegant: 
and his voice loud, sonorous, and well modulated. In 
the skirmish of debate we imagine he docs not excel, 
either from inability to bandy the badinage, which con 
stitutes its spriujhtli ness and efficiency, or disdaining to 
shoot at so low a target; to relinquish the buskin, and 
become candle-snuffer; to descend from his war-horse, 
and become scout and forager. His character has been 
repeatedly drawn, and always with tolerable correct 
ness. On ordinary occasions, he is plain and simple, 
and his style scarcely rises above the level of colloquial 
ease; while at the same time, he pours out masses of 
thought that overwhelm by their force, if they do not 
dazzle by their beauty. Mr. Webster has paid little at 
tention to the Rhetorician; he is impressive, but lacks 
grace; he is energetic, but deficient in fire his elo 
cution is correct, but wants fluency and ease; but these 
slight blemishes are amply compensated by a strong, 
original vein of good sense masses of facts and reflec 
tions, which he brings to bear with prodigious force 
upon the subject matter a clearness of conception and 
expression which is seldom seen and an occasional dry 
sarcastic vein of humor, which, from its rarity and un 
expected occurrence, is pcculiary poignant and effec 
tive. In his extemporaneous efforts, and these are by 
far the most frequent, he does not seem desirous to 
make a display or figure as an Orator, but moves steadi 
ly forward, piling argument upon argument, and heap 
ing thought upon thought, subjecto Pelio Ossam, until 
he reaches the conclusion he has proposed, and has 
convinced, as he believes, the minds of those he is ad 
dressing. This, however, is done with so little appar 


vnt feeling with such coolness and temperance of man 
ner that the hearer, though perhaps convinced, is not 
always delighted. He has indeed heard much to fill 
his mind, but nothing that was calculated to tickle his 
tar, or charm his fancy. But though Mr. Webster be 
generally, and upon extern poraneous occasions, cold and 
inanimate, he is unquestionably capable, in premedita 
ted efforts, of powerful bursts of eloquence; but these 
belong rather to the writer, than to the orator and he 
is thus enabled to unite the correctness of composition 
to the charms of elocution and the impressive ness of ac^ 
tion. On such occasions, when thoroughly roused, his 
sarcasm is excessively keen, and his satire biting, 
and an unusual earnestness of his manner gives a much 
greater air of sincerity and force to what he says, than 
on ordinary occasions. There is, certainly, "more of 
judgment than imagination in Mr. Webster. He has 
been so long used to the exercise of the former, that he 
deems the employment of the latter unnecessary, if it 
ever existed to a sufficient extent to render it a useful 
auxiliary nor is the memory a very prominent faculty 
of his mind, for though it may serve him in that parti 
cular vocation to which he is called, it seems to fail him, 
when he desires its aid to illustrate or embellish, by a 
happy quotation from the poet, historian, or orator/ 
His mind is certainly naturally logical, though, we are 
inclined to believe impaired by the sophistry of the 
bar, and he isoflen*tempted to "make the worse appear 
the better reason" ty powerful but specious analogies. 
From being a great constitutional lawyer, his political 
polar star, the federal creed of Mr. Hamilton, and the 
"sweeping doctrine" of Mr. Adams precludes him. 
He is said to be a much greater jurist, and founder of 
law than legislation, and it is chiefly in the Su 
preme Court, that he puts forth all his strength, and 
brings all his various knowledge and power of illustra 
tion to bear upon the point in hand. 

The following are some of Mr. Wilde s sketches 


90 11 KM A INS - POLITIC A I . 

They are brief, but comprehensive picturesque, but 
highly graphic. The speaker is tracing the history of 
the American System, and arrives at that stage of its 
progress when it was submitted to the fourteenth Con 
gress, when peace had just been ratified with Great 
Britain, when the war duties were no longer called 
for, when a new revenue system was to be organized, 
and the question, how our infant Manufactories were to 
be treated, was about to be discussed. 4 *It was under 
such circumstances/* says he that the fourteenth Con 
gress assembled. At that time 1 had the honor to be a 
member of this House. It was an honor then. What 
it is now, I shall not say. It is what the twenty-second 
Congress have been pleased to make it. I have neither 
time, nor strength, nor ability, to speak of the legisla 
tors of that day , its they deserve; nor is tins the fit oc 
casion. Vet UK* coldest or most careless nature cannot 
recur to such associates without some touch of generous 
feeling, which, i:i quicker spirits, would kindle into 
hi;$h and almost holy enthusiasm." 

LOWNDK*, t*f South Carolina. -Pre-eminent; 
yet not iron- proudly than humbly pre-eminent, among 
them, was gentleman from South-Carolina, now no more; 
the purest, the calmest, the most philosophical of our coun- 
lr\ ji modern statesmen. One, no less remarkable for gentle 
ness of manners, and Kindness of heart, than for that pas 
sionless, unclouded intellect, which rendered him deserving 
of the praise if ever man deserved it of merely standing 
by, and letting reason argue for him. Che true patriot, in 
capable of all selfish ambition, who shtmned ofiice and dis 
tinction, yet served his country faithfully, because he loved 
her. He, I mean who consecrated, by his example, the no- 
hie precept, so entirely his own, that the first station in the 
republic was neither to he sought after nor declined a sen 
timent so just and so Inppily expressed, that it continues to 
lie repeated, because it cannot he improved." 

WILLIAM PINKNKY, C/Jfa*y/*4~There was also, a 
gentleman from Maryland, whose ashes now slumber in your 
cemetery. It is not long since I stood by his tomb, and re 
called him, as he was then, in all the pride and power of hi* 

in.MUNs I,. 91 

Among the first of his countrymen ami contempo 
raries, as a jurist and statesman, first as an orator, he was, if 
not truly eloquent, the prince ot rhetoricians. Nor did the 
soundness of his logic sulIVr any tiling by a comparison with 
Ihr richness and classical purity of the language in which he 
Copiously poured forth those figurative illustrations of his ar 
gument* which enforce while thev adorned it. Hut let 
others pronounce; his eulogy, t must not. 1 feel as if his 
mijjhty spirit still haunted the scene of his triumphs, and 
when I dared to wrong then), indignantly rebuked me." 

"These names have become historical. There were others, 
of whom it is more difficult to speak, because yet within the 
reach of praise or envy. For one who was, or aspired to be, 
a politician, it would be prudent, pcrhap.s wise, t .> avoid all 
mention of there men. Their acts, their words, their 
thoughts, their very looks, have bccomo subjects of contro 
versy. Hut he whose ambition is of a higher or a lower or 
der, has no need of such reserve. Talent is of no party ex 
clusively; nor is justice." 

JOHN RANDOLPH, of Itoanokc. "Among them, but not 
of the in, in the fearful and solitary sublimity of genius, stood 
a gentleman from Virginia whom it were superfluous to 
designate. -Whose speeches were universally read. Whose 
s.ilirc was universally feared? Upon whose accents did this 
habitually listless and unlistcniug House hang, ?o frequent 
ly with wrapt attention? Whose fame was identified with 
that body for so long a period? Who was a morn dexterous 
debater? a riper scholar? better versed in the politics of our 
own country? or deeper read in the history of others? Above 
all, who was more thoroughly imbued with the idiom of thr 
English language; more completely master of its strength 
and beauty, and delicacy? or more capable of breathing 
thoughts of flame in words of magic and tones of silver?" 

JOHN C. CALiiorv, of Soitth-C. trolind. "There wa* 
.dso a son of South Carolina, still in the republic, then, un 
doubtedly, the most influential memberof this House. With 
i genius eminently metaphysical, he applied to politics his 
habits of analysis, abstraction, and condensation, and thus 
gave to tbc problems of government something of thaV gran 
deur which the higher mathematics have borrowed from 
astronomy. The wings of his mind were rapid, but cnpacious, 
and there were times when light which flashed froi6 them as 
*hcy passed, glanced like a mirror in the sun, only lo dazzle 


the beholder. Engrossed with his subject -careless of hi* 
words his loftiest flights of eloquence were sometimes fol 
lowed by colloquial or provincial barbarisms. But, though 
often incorrect, he was always fascinating. Language with 
him was merely the scaffolding of thought employed to 
raise a dome, which, like Angelo s, he suspended in the 

HENRY CLAV, of Kentucky. "It is equally impossible 
to forget, or to omit, a gentleman from Kentucky, whom 
party has since made the fruitful topic of unmeasured pane 
gyric and detraction. Of sanguine temperament, and >mpetu- 
ous character, his declamaticn was impassioned, his retorts 
acrimonious. Deficient in refinement rather than in strength, 
his style was less elegant and correct than animated and im 
pressive. But it swept away your feeling? with it like a 
mountain torrent, and the force of the stream left you little 
leisure to remark upon its clearness. II is estimate of human 
nature was, probably, not very high. It may he that his 
past associations had not tended to exalt it. Unhappily, it is, 
perhaps, more likely to have been lowered than raised by 
his subsequent experience. Yet then, and even since, 
except when that imprudence, so natural to genius, prevailed 
over his better judgment, he had, generally, the good sense, 
or good taste, to adopt a lofty tone of sentiment, whether he 
spoke of measures or of men, of friend or adversary. On 
many occasions he was noble and captivating. One, I :an 
never forget. It was the fine burst of indignant eloquence 
with which he replied to the taunting question "what have 
we gained by the last war?" 

DANIEL ^VEBSTER, of Massachusetts. "Nor may I 
pass over in silence a representative from New-Hampshire, 
who has almost obliterated all memory of that distinction, 
by the superior fame he has attained as a Senator from Mas 
sachusetts. Though then but in the bud of his political life, 
and hardly conscious, perhaps, of his own extraordinary 
powers, he gave promise of the greatness he has since achiev 
ed. The same vigor of thought; the same force of expres 
sion; the short sentences; the calm, cold, collected manner; 
the air of solemn dignity, and deep sepulchral unimpassioned 
voice; ah have been developed only, not changed, even to 
the intense bitterness of his frigid irony. The piercing. 
foidnessoC his sarcasms was indeed peculiar to him: thry 


seemed lo be emanations from the spirit of icy ocean. 
Nothing could be at once so novel and so powerful it was 
frozen mercury becoming as caustic as red hot iron." 

HARBOUR,GASTON,FORSYTH. "I might cnumcraleamong 
the ornaments of that body a venerable patriot from Massa 
chusetts, honored with the friendship, of Washington; con 
spicuous gentlemen from Pennsylvania, Messrs. Sergeant and 
Hopkinson; two eminent Virginians, Messrs. Harbour and 
Shefly; a highly gifted son of North-Carolina, Mr. Gaston, 
and a gentleman from Louisiana, strongly marked in his 
character and in his phraseology, as his speeches and his let 
ters from Paris will bear witness, Mr. Robertson. I might, 
perhaps, and I ought to add a distinguished, 
townsman and personal friend of my own, to whom nature has 
been prodigal of all her bounties, and who for grace of man 
ner, felicity of style, sweetness and flexibility of voice, well 
chosen arguments, and courteous yet scornful retort, has left 
behind him in this house no superior and ft-w equals. This 
much must have been said by any but a false chronicler. 
More I might have added with perfect truth. Hut I will 
not be suspected of partiality; besides there would be arro 
gance in supposing there is any one in this country to whom 
he is not already advantageously known, save those who 
have never heard and never will leafn 


A late number of the Southern Review puts forth 
an article upon the Codification of the Common Law, 
evidently from the pen of the writer, whose essays 
have contributed so essentially to give tone and char 
acter to the work, but which does not exhibit the 
close and cogent logic, which usually characterize!* 
him.* At any rate, it has not impaired our previous 
impressions in favor of a code* nor, as we conceive. 
Weakened the reasons upon which they were founded. 

What is one of the great boasts of the Common Law? 

Hojh . 


That it i* unwritten that it strctcheth, ia the woixk 
of my Lord Coke, \\hercunto the memory of man ex- 
lendcth not" that it has been, handed down by imme 
morial fruditioa, ami is involved in obscurity. Now 
tradition is useful to unravel what is complex, illustrate 
\\liat is obscure, or revive \\hat is obsolete, but it ne 
cessarily implies uncertainty. Truth is immutable 
and simple. justice is no sooner sought after than fount!. 
If the rule he obvious, the application \vill be easy and 
expeditious. Hut this is an abstract view, and of re 
mote hearing. Can the ride bL* so simplified: We 
believe it can. 

NVe are disposed to believe, that all are willing to 
substitute method for confusion clearness for obscuri 
ty: and that when the advocates of reform urge an 
universal acquaintance with the Law, and consequent 
death of litigation, as the end of their labors, they have 
awakened idle Lai s in the profession. We believe the 
world will never become lawyers, and that lawsuits 
u ill never cease, as long as property remains, about 
\\hich to contend. No human sagacity can guard 
against two constructions of the most perspicuous sta- 
uite, and the whole mass of law, when reduced to a 
co:le, would, in the words of Mr. Jciierson. from the 
imperfection of language, and its incompetence to ex 
press distinctly every shade of idea, become a subject 
of dispute, until settled by repeated adjudications. 

The advocates of reform appear to us, also, to have 
Overshot their object, and injured their cause, when 
they denounce the whole body of Common I^xw as a 
system of absurdity, complicated technicals, and insidi 
ous fraud, thus alarming the fears of the communit) 
with horror of innovation through the charm of 
words* and tearing oft* the venerable draper) which 
sanctifies ancient institutions. Such unsparing anathe 
mas even if true always recoil. Our intimacy with 
the common law is but slight, yet our admiration of its 
rules and maxims is sufficiently strong to create n desire 


to sec i I free from unmeaning forms divcsk-d ofdif- 
liiscncss and adapted tc the high degivc of improve 
ment, which the nineteenth century is so r.ipidlv ilJVrt- 
"mg. Hut the question ivcurs. i< it practicable is it 
expedient? These are tlie only points really un-ler 
discussion, for all app^r duly sensible of tnc di>or- 
derly and imperfect state of our laws, an 1 the -modi 
and measure of redress" form the eifliiv di!Vu ;ilt\ . 

The practical maxim of modern philosophy is pro 
gressive improvement (\t Ira! "vshat man lias done. 
man may do again/ The Common L:i\v was onr< 
written.* why may it not he so again? Hut as thi> 
work \yas not. strictly speaking, a code, hut in some sori 
an original, we will not insist upon it, hut pass to others 
of unequivocal character, where success has hern 

The first code, of which we have information, is the 
|a\v of tlu- twelve tabhs, which though d^Hcivnl and 
incomplete in many respects, was of great and cxlen- 
Mve utility. The second is that of Julius (V^r. hv 
( )nidius. The third, that called the "Perpetual IMict/ 
under Snlv Julian, comprising all the co Us com- 
pl- te and incompl te, that preceded it. These wciv 
followed hy the labors (not recognized in the courts) O f 
Hermogenes and Papirius. The code of Theojosius 
succeeded, on a nev plan, and prevailed rxtcn-ivcly in 
l)oth divisions of the Empire. After the lapse- of seve 
ral centuries, when the mass of enactments was im 
mense, and the confusion almost inextricable, Justinian 
undertook the office of cleansingthe Angia of the law. 
Trehonian, aided by sixteen brother Jurisconsults, re 
duced twtnt / Otu hundred treatises tr> fifty bonks. A 
work of incredible time, toil, and difficulty, but which 
paid for all the labor consumed, by ultimate and entire 
success. After the completion of this great work. 
need we despair of effecting a less extensive scheme, 
with the infinitely superior array of talent, erudition. 

Alfred s Dome Book Vide Cooper Jvtininn 


and philosophic jurisprudence, which Soutli-Carolina 
can bring to the task? We will pass by the code of 
Napoleon, with which he desired to be buried, so con 
scious was he that when his wreaths of conquest had 
faded, it would form an evergreen garland to his mem 
ory. We will not dwell upon the code of Louisiana, 
which distinguishes her penal statutes from those of 
the rest of the Union. We omit all mention of the 
Digest of Edward the Confessor, the Epitomes of San 
Marino, the Code Frederique of Prussia, and other 
compilations, which more or less resemble codes. We 
adduce that, with which we are most familiar, which 
is universally recognized which has been completely 
successful and which appeal s to us to settle the ques 
tion of practicability. 

But the sceptic or the sciolist might still rejoin cui 
bono? If disputes can never end, as long as there is 
anything to dispute about, why, though it may be prac 
ticable, should we have a code? We are ready with 
our response. We answer, with Milton, "order is 
Heaven s first law." A code would substitute harmony 
for chaos regularity for confusion order for dis 

It will reduce the neccessary professional works to 
one fourth their present bulk. 

It will give to Law the elements, divisions, forms, 
and arrangements of Science. 

Principles will be established to guide future legis 
lators, and prevent incongruous additions, which make 
our legislative enactments resemble the patchwork of a 
Harlequin * jacket. 

An ancient tyrant, in the refinement of his cruelty, 
had his laws written in so small a character, and hung 
up so high, that the people could not read them. Do 
we not improve upon Roman barbarity, when we re 
fuse to make that, which is the rule of conduct to all, 
intelligible to all? 


Mr. Hammond, in his introductory remarks upon 
the law of forgery, well observes: 

"Thr advantage* of a consolidation nro,/r.v/, it brings 
under one point of viou- tint which no\v lies tfcnttrrcil over 
Ihe face of many volumes; seroml/i/, it nscrrlnins tho rrnp- 
rocal influence which a variety of statute*, each applicable to 
the same subject, have upon each other, a knowledge which, 
under the present state of things, it is n matter of the preat- 
<>t difficulty, nay, often of impossibility, for the most com 
prehensive mind to attain. Thirdly, ft detects and recon 
ciles those contradictions, nnd inconsistencies, so constantly 
observed when a numher of statute? have heen applied from 
time to time to the same subject. Fourthly* by reducing 
the law to a greater certainty, it diminishes litigation, and 
by exhibiting a clear, distinct, and connected view of that 
law, it enables us to observe, and observing to supply those 
particulars in which it is deficient." 

\Ve believe the accomplishment of this great work 
will confer lasting reputation upon the Legislature that 
shall achieve it: and we may pledge and predict the 
gratitude of the people to the administration, under 
which it is effectually recommended and brought about. 
By three successive Chief Magistrates (Bennett* Wil 
son and Manning-) it has been strenuously pressed; and 
we trust the individual, who at present presides over 

Governor Manning, in his Menage of 1823, hold* the following lan- 

It i" believed that tho time H cither at hand, or that it ha already arrived, 
when the advances of improving o :iely. and the .ic"nniu!t l wisdom and 
knowledge of man will give a ri"it!<-<< call for such a dig-nt. rode, or what 
ever ehe it may pl -n^e other* to denominate it, a* will brin* law* into -uch a 
form, that contradiction*, fiction* and many unnecessary ami unintelligible 
technicalities, may b tuperreded by rule* of wiitt-n re ion and plain rom- 
nion *en*, that they may be morn eaily understood and be more happily 
adapted, to the essentially raned condition of human society at tbe pre*eat 

"Many of lh laws now in force, as well in th country as in EnglaHd, ows 
their birth to ages, when the human mind waa yet in the dark, and which 
proceeding in their operation, with ucce*ive modification* through cini- 
harbarov nge and through th light* of half-expanded reason, have :oroc 
down to th pretent a^, with all their annaitablenew nnd incanibnmcen about 
them, burying truth and desirable legnl certainty in darkness and doubt, and 
entangling principle*, jnd the spirit of laws in eodle** intricacy. 

"If thii book-making age continues lo^ to throw off on the world, ccnnt- 



the Commonweal tli, will not be insensible to its impor 
lance. The French nation at this moment revere the 
memory of Buona|iurte more, as the father of his im 
mortal Code, than as the conqueror of Austerlitz and 
Lodi: and he deserved it of them.* In claiming the 
title of the modern Justinian, lie did not, like his pro 
totype, issue a commission to his Jurists, and claim the 
credit of their labors. He presided ut its formation 
examined its provisions offered amendment! suggest 
ed additions explained principles, and thoroughly 
discussed the whole code. lie desired to be buried 
with the manuscript in his baud, as the most enduring 
monument of his fame. He knew that the chaplct on 
the brow of the victor continues verdant, only while 
refreshed with blood: that the ci\ic wreath ever out 
lives the war-stained laurels of conquest.. 


The late disturbances among our colored population 
in the two neighboring States, and the excited state of 
public feeling in our own, ought to turn the earnest 
attention of every Carolinian to our peculiar institutions, 
and to the torrent of opinion, which, by misrepresenta 
tion and ignorance, is setting with a* mighty current 
against our proper interests. Whether imr northern 
brethren v\ill continue to suflei- their misguided fana 
tics to scatter their poison among us to stir up trea- 

[en* multitude of volumes, ull human knowledge generally. a* well u* ill 
l.u.uan law* particularly, will have uoca*arily, to be reduced more to their 


"All the element* of moral mid natural justice are to be fouud iu book, of 
law; but they ore dftfetd through u thousand gloomy and unmanageable 
\olumea. I hen- i u light but it i* hid iu darkuew." 

[ That Napoleon Jaw* d hi* memorial* in French recollection and grati- 
ude, rather for ibu great labor than for hi* and their military achievinUn-. 
iiu> uot wiur quwtion; but that .urh is the cuse, us a^rrted *coi,inglv ftt 
Hn u.\t, may well be doul t.-d. FD.] 


MM*, ami vxeitc false hopes and expectations in the hi 
therto tranquil bosoms of our scrviles wedo not know. 
It is beyond tbc efficient interposition of Congress -ami 
if they understood cither our feelings, or their own in 
terest, they will themselves promptly and effectually 
intcr|>o>p. Let a law he enacted making it felony, and 
Mibjcct to the jurisdiction of the Courts of the State in 
which the poison is disseminated against which the fire 
brand is first levelled. The remedy, for ohvious reasons, 
would he complete. nor can our northern brethren do 1 i?ss. 
We demand it as a matter of right we demand it in 
consideration of our peculiar institutions we demand 
it for the security of our lives and property we de 
mand it in the spirit of the Constitution. In vnin has 
that instrument provided for the inviolability of pro 
perty, if ours is to be perpetually depreciated nay 
jeoparded l>y the insidious plots of these authorized 
miscreants these legalized traitors. Hut on this point, 
which is worthy of serious consideration, we will speak 
more at lan- e hereafter. 

We frar that the radical cause* of the evil of which 
we complain, and of the misapprehension of our breth 
ren at tnc North, is partly to he found in our own sen 
sitiveness. We receive their objections with bitter 
re vi lings, nor do we ever deign any ans.vcrs save the 
most unqualified contempt and abhorrence. This 
course augurs badly for us. It implies consciousness 
of a weak cause, and an unwillingness to undergo scru 
tiny. To the sickly, unmeaning, meddling interference. 
of A few prostituted presses of the North, it is unavail 
ing to respond. These holy fathers are bent upon a 
pious cruwvde, and nothing but the strong arm of the 
law can restrain their enthusiasm. But there is a class 
of our countrymen, who honestly and consciously differ 
from us, without inundating in with their jtremfadt, 
and who, without claiming a supervisory jurisdiction 
over our local institutions* yet deem our situation "anti- 
Ilrpuhlioan uncalled for and disreputable, to a Na 


tion professing to be free." Our cause can lose noth 
ing l.y the most rigid scrutiny. With such, let us dis 
passionately commune, and we think, we can make out 
a sufficiently strong case in our favor to satisfy any. save 
moon-struck theorists and girlish philanthropists. It is 
difficult, however, to restrain our feelings of indignation, 
when we read the insulting language of some of our 
most enlightened adversaries in those very States, which 
reaped all the benefits which accrued from the traffic 
which entailed upon us the evil and now preach with 
uplifted hands against the practice they were the first 
to introduce. They have appropriated all the benefit 
they could derive from their own slaves they have 
cleared their forests their soil does not require them 
becoming burthensome. they have released themselves 
from motives of Intercut, and now pointing to the negro- 
fri-cman of the North, tell us *to go and do likewise." 
. Let us see what they hnw done. 

The emancipated Negro of the nou-slaveholding 
States, though equal by legal right, is borne down by 
the weight of public opinion. At the South, the law 
controls him be cherishes no idea of equality he 
dors not expect what be cannot receive, and is" natu 
rally content. At the North, the law in vain endea 
vours to support him against popular prejudice, and 
with all the galling consciousness of possessing rights. 
vhieh society \\ill not acknowledge, he sinks into a 
bondage doubly bitter, because illegal and unmerited. 
We have personally witnessed some of the reckless dis 
regard of lav, the contemptuous violence the un 
equivocal oppression undergone by the Negro-freeman 
of the North. His dwelling has been torn down his 
field devastated his property destroyed- himself turn- 
e,l out to the elements and the law, from uneonqucr- 
W>12 prejudice, affords him no redress. And by whom? 
Not by the "haughty aristocrat/ not by the -relent 
less slave driver of the South" but by the very 
men who taunt us with anti republicanism and cruel- 

KKMAINS - IMjl.H H VI . 1O1 

ty -and \vlio so loudly proclaim their r</na/ity and 

Hut the list of our revilers is not yet complete. A 
late European journal reiterates the "stale stull that for 
merly disgraced the pages of the Quarterly, and hids 
us make "no more fair speeches in favor of liberty, 
while a slave contaminates our soil/ We have no 
idea of polluting our columns with an answer to the 
reckless slanders of this scribbler: but avail our 
selves of tbe opportunity of placing the question in 
its proper light. As far as .the charge is confined to 
our -country, we would enquire of this candid and 
sagacious winter, whose soils are Jamaica and Harba- 
does? Whose wants and luxury do they supply? Whose 
is the island of Tobago, and for whom are its sugar 
and rum destined?* Hut let us take up the gauntlet 
thrown down let us meet the taunts of our revilers 
let us strip them of their inock-patYietic, and exhibit 
facts in their naked reality. "That slavery" (says he, 
"in the usual rhodomontadc of the Quarterly) "should 
exist among men, who profess to know the value of 
liberty, and to understand its principles, is the consum 
mation of hypocrisy and guilt. How stands the ac- 

M pon this point the New Monthly Mnga/.ine holds the following liberal and 
^nlightened language: 

"The worm thing nrgrd against America L* her negro slavery a theme, no 
doubt, for the general philanthropist, hut not for the Kneli-hman ns a ground 
of unqualified national vanity. Slaves rannot breathe in Kngland! Yes, but 
they can breathe in the Uiivii$h West Indie*, nnd breathe heavier groan* (it 
is raid) than in America. And we profit by this slavery, and we pay taxes to 
maintain it. The negro, however, is free the moment he reaches our shore*! 
And could he reach thorn at ht* pleasure, we might then boat that we took 
the chains from las limit*, and bound them round hi* heart. Hut he cannot 
rome over to u*. An English soldier would help to kill him, if he assorted 
In* liberty; and the mam power that coerces him w English. Now, the plea 
which oar Colonist* allege for po^essing ulaves is necessity, and we either 
admit or reject thin plea. If we absolve the West Indian, we cannot con 
demn the American. If we denounce them both as tyrants, it w clear that, of 
4he two, we are mo*t nearly and practically concerned with oar fellow ut>- 
jerts of the West Indie*. If we can jotify or palliate their flarery, let as 
make allowance for that of America, and if we cannot justify it, then. 
before we reach thn emancipation of slav e* to another empire, we thonM 

, , 

before we preach thn emancipation of slav e* to another empire, we 
tint mike efforts to nrromplith that PittuwMpatien in orow." 


fount between this country and Great Britain? Did 
she not introduce the evil among us, when \ve were 
colonies, and subject to her control, against our vehe 
ment and repeated remonstrances? Did we not enact 
laws for their manumission, which she refused to sanc 
tion? Does she not now encourage their bondage in 
the West Indies? Shall she reproach us fora burthen 
which she entailed upon us, and of which we cannot 
rid ourselves? Can the seduced be brought to the 
level of the seducer? But the writer says, that "with 
out equal rights there can be no liberty." Docs Great 
Britain lots any nation allow to children, to women, 
or to idiots, equal rights of legislation? And is not the 
negro as incapable of exercising the functions of Gov 
ernment, as the child or the female? How, then, docs 
his exclusion, the result of his mental imbecility, de 
stroy our claim to liberty? What would become of the 
boasted freedom of Greece and Rome, to which man 
kind have so long paid adoration? Docs it not if 
equal privileges be the test crumble into dust? But. 
snys the writer, in the height of his enthusiasm, no 
sooner docs a slave set his foot upon British soil," &c. 
NVc would enquire of this Apostle of British Liberty, 
whether it was not decided, as late as (i \V. k M. (1 Ld. 
Raymond, 137) that property in a negro might be 
lioldcn, and action of trover brought because ucgrueit 
are hurt/tens? Docs he, also, forget th-j well-known 
case of the boy Somerset, in which Lord Mansfield 
decided //!/ tkc contract for the su/e of u sfare is 
Xood in fc ff&fuJP" But we need not recur to old 
enormities. Let Great Britain look nearer home. 
Until within a few months, she held in ignominious bond 
age, deprived of social and religious rites not men 
inferior to her in intellect not the ignorant African 
incapable of rational liberty not. men alien by habit, 
degrading associations and different complexion but 
a generous people, abounding in all the qualities that 
lt human nature the recollections that endear, 


And the services that plead irresistibly to a nation s 
gratitude. It is exceeding the hounds of our enquiry 
to recur to former severities, arid rake up the ashes of 
atrocities, which are now known, only to he ahhorred. 
The slave treatment, which a few years since was 
esteemed eminently lenient, would now be regarded in 
a great degree rigorous: one, who is familiar with the 
past, and observant of the present, cannot fail in noticing 
the evident amelioration of their condition. Let us 
impartiably compare him with the serf of the Russian 
nobleman, or the laborious manufacturer of England. 
The former is sold with the land he cultivates, and 
though in an equal degree with the American slave, 
deprived of civil rights. Is compelled at the nod of his 
superior, to leave his home and family and plunge into 
all the horrors of war: and in case of refusal there is 
no reprieve. The manufacturer, when competition is 
excessive, and swarms of half-starved wretches render 
labor comparatively valueless, toils fifteen hours daily 
for a pittance that deserves not the name of livelihood. 
The debates in Parliament speak volumes OH this point, 
If such be the fact, and that it is, we appeal to the 
speeches of Brougham, Courtcnay and Peel, the equality 
of the negro as regards the comforts of life, can hardly 
he doubted. He is free, as well from besetting present, 
nsthe harassing forbod ings of, future want: nor does he, 
as the English la!>orcr, (to use the admission of the 
Quarterly on another occasion) -toil with the prospect 
of pauperism, and the work -house, the last stage of 
woe on his passage to the grave." 

Hut we leave this point as of minor importance, to 
meet this question upon its broad basis: as a question 
coming, not from a people more deeply implicated than 
ourselves, but from the God of Nature who endowed 
us with- equal rights. No one more than ourselves 
condemns slavery in the abstract of all trades that 
have disgraced Human nature, this was the worst. In 
others, however infamous, there wen* traits of something 


like humanity, but in this, there waa-h total absence of 
them. It was a scene of uniform, unadulterated, unso 
phisticated wickedness. But whilst we condemn the 
ill-starred policy whirh hurthcned us with slavery, let 
us not he misund* rMood. It is a common, we- might 
almost say, universal, fault, with moralists, to consider 
actions only in tluir general effects, without reference 
to particular cases. They lay down a general princi 
ple, and making a sweeping anathema, include in the 
scop? of malediction, equally, the wilfully depraved, 
and thos j whom impracticability ties down to its suller- 
ancc. None but the visionary theorist can fail in ob- 
serving,that this is equally opno.icd to human nature, and 
the merest common sense. Justice cannot be obtained 
immediately, but must await the award of time. Great 
reformations have never been effected in a day, but 
have been gradually brought about by the revolution 
nfages. Men on this subject declaim in vain. High 
sounding epithets and polished phrases may charm tin- 
car, but cannot convince the understanding. Thai 
system, which best provides for the safety of the ma 
jority, can never be considered unjust, if the term be 
not a new abstraction, disconnected with human affairs. 
Men always require some preparation for their future 
situation, and must be gradually moulded to their des 
tiny. Else the novelty of their new state will intro 
duce anarchy and confusion. The slaves througli 
long disnctiide to equal participation of rights, \\ilh 
the white population* would be unfitted to enjoy, and 
use with moderation the blessings of liberty. If turned 
loose they would over-run the country an idle, en 
cumbering mass like the wretched Lazaroni of Italy 
incapable of obtaining subsistence, and unwilling to 
embrace their ancient servitude. To expel them from 
the U. States, would be literally to devote them to all 
the tortures of a lingering death by famine. A manu 
mitted slave (despite the opinion and fervent aspiration 
of visionary and heated moralists) can never become 


l lie recognised etjual of his quondam wercrjn. You 
may suspend over his head the shield of liberty you may 
tear off hi* manacles and hail him by the "epithet 
Freeman;" but ("can the leoparl change its *JH>U, 
or the Ethiopian hi* *kin? v ) you cannot make him a 
white man. The memory of his former situation in 
late degraded state hi* Afgitatiflg appearance, and 
grovelling habits hi* ignorance, and the indelible 
stamp of divine wrath scaled ii|x>n his forehead- --cre 
ate an impassable Iwrrier to hi* amalgamation with the 
white*. The space \vc have already occupied, pre 
cludes the intro luction of the remarks we inu-ndcd to 
liave made ujxm the Colonization Society, the propo 
sition recently laid before Congress, and UK- Resolution.* 
of the Virginia Legislature. Meanwhile, we would, 
in conclusion, enquire what, afl r all, is the crime of 
the South? That we live in a Ian J cannot I>e cul 
tivated by white la borers- --that our fathers dis Covered 
this and were supplied up to the act of prohibition with 
Africans by British and Northern slave trader*-- -that 
they bequeathed to us an evil of which we can:tot rid 
oucselvev- and that all we can do, is to perform t*r- 
duties of the station in which our lot is cast, in the Iwsl 

manner we can. 


The Sublime Pone apjKan to be deviating from the 
uniform policy of every preceding 4 h?ad of the fait!i- 
ful," ? and seems determined to produce a wi%t?>titial 
and thorotigh revolution in the modes of acting ana 
thinking of hi* subjects by introducing Eurr>(>ean ira- 
provements of a civil, a* well as mi iury character. 
Two newspapers have bc^n e*tP v lUhed at Constantino 
ple, one in the Turkish the other in the French Ian 
His error appear* to be that of our "whole 


system" men- a hot- house experiment of farcing upon 
a people habiU of living and employment for which 
they are not yet prepared. His course should be to 
aim at a steady, but silent approximation to force no 
thing to excite no dread of innovation to arouse no 
long cherished prejudices to tamj>er with no rooted 
prepossessions lest he should excite a tempest he may 
not be able to weather. He has already raised u 
storm among the Mufti but has not ytt ^reaped the 
whirlwind/ being a favorite with his subjects, and hav 
ing acquired, by his prompt and energetic measure:), an 
influence over their minds, and an independence of 
their prejudices, never before enjoyed by any Soldaii. 
The bowstring perhaps would have been the reward of 
less determined measures, and in playing for so high a 
stake as his Crown natural and artificial Mahmoud 
probably ivlies much upon his knowledge of the tem 
perament of his singular people. If, however, he is 
not immolated upon the altar of his patriotic temerity, 
it will singularly belie the Turkish character and prac 
tice, and form an exception to the fate of all anterior 
reformers of barbarous or half civilized people. 



To understand the features which distinguish man as 
a rational being, and consequently, the laws hy which 
his nature is governed, is indispensable in forming cor 
rect ideas of the tendency and guidance of his actions. 

If the en;l and aim of education, he (as it has heeu 
defined.) to bring all our faculties to the greatest per 
fection of which they arc susceptible to investigate the 
powers we are called upon to improve, is of prelimina 
ry and momentous importance. Among the moderns 
(especially at a later date, and even in the present en 
lightened age,) the science of metaphysics appears to 
me, to have experienced a neglect, unmerited and in 
jurious to the welfare of society. To it, has been er 
roneously attributed the thraldom and debasement of 
the human mind, the contraction of our powers, and 
the gloomy hormrsof a confined and moody religion.* 

Every philosophical writer has hut too sadly expe 
rienced the truth, that where one will understand and 
appreciate his labors, mnny will despise his efforts, 
more pervert his principles, ami thousands, incapable 
of understanding, will misrepresent his reasoning.! 

*Or, as mrne mon* ^xj iriomi have anred u- the ntudv of the mind N the 
rhief promoter of infidvlitt ! 

V Tiuth, (ay 1-ockrj cnrceever jet carried it hy rote any where at it 
fir>t appearance; new opinion* are alway* n?perlpd, and are u*tn!ly oppord 
without an) farther rfa^on, lut becauw they are not already common." Th- 
conclusion of t Yn parr.^mph is no brantifal that \ve cannot fortwar tranicribiHg 
it, trtoujh not tmmcfitatrlv applicable to the point hi hand. "Hat truth (con- 
tiae* th uriter) lik^ pold, is not the Kw *o for being newly bronght out of 
i*ie tn me. It i triol and examinatioQ intun give it ptv-*, and not any antk|u* 
." Sic. 


But of the numerous body of those who sneer at the 
word "philosophy" and overrun the world with what 
they absurdly term 44 practical principles," many, I am 
fully persuaded, would, on the slightest investigation, 
retract their anathema, and readily admit that know 
ledge of self, is especially worthy the attention of the 
politician and moralist/* The chief source of error to 
man, is the hasty admission of plausible principles; and 
one, of which the prevention is easy and evident; the 
removal difficult and obscure. 

"If a perplexed reasoner, (says Dnimmond Acad. 
Ques. Intr.) puzzle himself and his audience, we a ri 
al ways sure to hear his snhtility reproved or lamented; 
and he, upon his part, seldom* fails to ascribe the con 
fusion of his ideas to the abstruse nature of all specula 
tive doctrines. If a pert rhetorician g?ts entangled in 
his OHM sophistries he is ever ready to accuse him 
self of having too much of that very logic which he 

It is thus that the noUest and purest of knowledge- 
is termed subtle and deceiving usvless and mischie 
vous. That the (tanut -snf the learned on these points 
are crowded with unnecessary prolixity, And in a great 
degree, concerning terms, I am willing to admit; and 1 
have often (in the few hours I have spent ujoi the 
piges of those disputants) had occasion to regret, that a 
lew perspicuous and authenticated definitions had ne 
ver been agree J upon as the basis of their investigation.- 

Merely .pwulaiiv.. philowphiral principle, wldom had nny sen*. 
bleetWtupoutru. oomluct of educated men, vet they MAY do much h-rm, u, 
police. U hen. for m-r.nrc, they art- promised in times of trouble and e*- 
c.iement and re preached to the men in a popnlar and p auaible style, a. in 
h, fir* trench I evolul,ou-ihey ,hook nil the MlriJg of wcielV to thrir 

en 1 Th T f V ^ ^^^ i " d " dl | -tf ka.te he p,rvertnl. ,fh, 
^mp,r,f hn naturnl propernities he base and <rovelling-a th.H>rv ol 
No vVv Art T / *>******> ny ld to .he crimel" tf. ft.. 
4-ru u * Jcrem V Kcntham and the CtiUtariun. 

I hough it may render u ohuoxiou* to the charge of pedantry (in iu strict 
ador,, lU a. mea-ju,, ) W e will o^er io support of our opinion/ hebr^f an" 
^F^^!!r****> m m i Seucc., "PhUoipiu. uoa i. verb,-- 


But disregarding the prolixity of the dull, the cavils 
? r l ^? ignonmU and the presumption of the sciolist, it 
is of infinitely greater importance to depend upon our 
own perceptions uiid experience to narrowly scan the 
infant mind the first dawn of intellect to examine 
the gradual development of the ideas and passions 
to trace the influence of association the expansion of 
the chcrtcter; and he w ho with untiring perseverance. 
\\ith patient miiv.itciu ss, studies (without heal, without 
prejudice to support) the evident workings of nature 
which hurst forth in every breast, better deserves the 
name -philosopher" and the gratitude of posterity, than 
the most subtile metaphysician who in his closet plans 
paradoxes to bewil Jcr and sophistry to deceive, and con 
tends for victory and not for truth. But, leaving this 
merited opprobrium to those who have involved in ob 
scurity, knowledge that should be known by all who 
have clouded \ \ mist, w hat should shine as the mid-day 
luminary: the study of ourselves and the genuine phi 
losophy of the soul is worthy of the keenest and most at- 
t -ntive consideration, If we turn to the pages of those 
disputants, who have filled the world with their dis 
cussions, so fur from acquiring the first principles we 
desire, we shall lose ourselves in metaphysical subtili- 
ties, and in place of perspicuous and practical know 
ledge shall be overwhelmed by uncertainty, hypothesis 
and conjecture. But have we no power in ourselves to 
solve our difliculties? Have ue no power by percep 
tion, examination and strict attention to what passes 
within our view, to dispel our doubts, and bring our 
discussions to an issue? Fortunately, my own opinions 
01 this head are confirmed by illustrious intellects, and 
I gladly avail myself of superior argument. We take 
it for granted, (says the venerable Reid, whom we 
cite from memory.) that by attentive reflection, a man 
may gain clear and certain knowledge of the operations 
of his own mind. The action of men are effects; their 
sentiments, their passions and their affections are the 


causes. But from the opinions of men, also may tvc 
gain light into the human mind, for they are the effects 
of their intellectual jMnvers. Even the prejudices and 
errors of mankind must have some similar source; and 
their elucidation \vill no less tend to augment this spe 
cies of knowledge. (Essays, as quoted hy Miss Hamil 
ton on Education.) 

The science of mental philosophy in its broadest 
sense, may be distributed into a three-fold division. 1st. 
Nature and attributes of our spiritual being. 2<*. Our 
relation to each other. And. ;Ul. Nature and attri 
butes of the Creator. t With this view of our subject we 
shall proceed to state* some of the advantages to be de 
rived f i-oni its pursuit: and which readily suggest them 
selves under th: heads above specified. The pleasure 
we experience in the examination of our internal na 
ture possesses one distinctive superiority over the gra 
tification arising from the study of other sciences. In 
any situation of life however obscure in circumstances, 
however otherwise unfavorable we always possess the 
requisites for successful researches into our minds. 
No costly apparatus no tedious preparation is requi 
red; the object of our contemplation is ever before 
us the means of investigation are ever in our power. 
One of the chief advantages resulting from his science 
appears to me to be the cultivation of the powers which 
it necessarily produces, and the enquiring philosophic 
spirit it engenders. The comprehensive instruction 
given in its pursuit is that our observations of mental 
phenomena be careful and exact, our discrimination ac 
curate, and our generalization particularly cautious and 
deliberate. As a discipline of the r< atoning powers it 
may fairly claim superiority over every other branch 
of knowledge. In this study ultimate success must de 
pend upon the degree of assiduity and ucuten-ss with 
which we search into what passes in our own minds 
and logical closeness of argument is indispensable to en 
sure an unerring result to our speculations. This science 


is of incalculable Importance in our investigations, by 
enabling us to determine the extent of our capacity, 
the causes which operate in perverting it from truth, 
and, consequently, the means by which we may com 
bat our propensity to error. * Knowledge of our power* 
is of incalculable utility in determining the pursuits 
proper to be undertaken in which success may be ex 
pected, and those to be avoided in which success is 
hopeless. "When we know our own strength, (says 
Locke,) we shall the better know what to undertake 
with hopes of success, and when we have well survey 
ed the powers of our own minds, and made some esti 
mate what we may expect from them, we shall not be 
inclined either to sit still, and not set our thoughts on 
work at all. in despair of knowing any thing: or on tin- 
other side, question every thing, and disclaim all 
knowledge, because some thingsare not to be understood. 
It is of great use to know the length of our line, 
though we cannot with it fathom all the depths of the 
ocean/ (Locke, Intro.) Knowledge of the limits of 
human intellect has been supposed to induce doubts 
upon every subject even those dearest to our future 
hopes: in short it has been asserted to be the monster 
of universal skepticism. Just the contrary. So far 
from favoring infidelity, knowledge of ourselves is tin- 
most eflicacious antidote against it, by dispersing the 
mists of ignorance and humbling our natural arrogance. 
Philosophy teaches not only to doubt as the first step 
to improvement, but also to believe, as the only way 
to accumulate knowledge, on the same principles of 
evidence. There are few propensities which produce 
more misery to our fellow men, and entail more re 
pentance upon ourselves, than the spirit of intolerance 
with which we regard human error. I know no better 
remedy for this vice than a correct knowledge of our 
selves, our frailties, and helplessness. There are two 
kinds of hypocrisy one which deceives the world, the 
other which blinds us to our failing. The one has io 


an especial degree occupied the efforts of the philoso 
pher the other, I conceive, equally, (if not more) 
worthy his attention. Without an intimate acquaint 
ance, with the human character, with the passions 
which agitate it, and the different degrees of influence 
they exercise over its workings, ahortive w ill he every 
effort to amuse, soften, inUrest, or exalt it which 
are the chief objects of the department of Iklles Lct- 
tres. <*A11 polite learning * (says Hume) fc -arc 
nothing but pictures of human life in. various attitudes 
and situations, and inspire us with different sentiments, 
of praise or blame, admiration or ridicule, according 
to the qualities of the objects they set before us. An 
artist must be better qualified to succeed in this under 
taking, who, besides a delicate taste and quick appre 
hension, possesses an accurate knowledge of the inter 
nal fabric, the opcr.itions of the Understanding, and the 
various species of sentiment which discriminate nature 
and vice." 

The entire art (Science) of Criticism depends ujnm 
a knowledge of human nature, and the various ways in 
which it is affected. \Ve judge of the sublime images 
of poetry, by the power they possess in exhibiting, ter 
rifying or amazing the mind. We decide ujwn the 
perspicuous, and impressive arrangement of argument, 
by the degree of conviction which the different links 
of proof proJuce in us as they are severally developed. 
And we estimate the power of the orator in proportion, 
as he influences the will by artfully appealing to our 
selfish feelings, or selecting proper circumstances and 
opportunity to enlist in his cause our more generous 

But laying aside the advantages, resulting from (his 
study, (which we have faintly sketched) the mind itself 
is eminently worthy our investigation. "Since it is 
the understanding, (says Locke,) which sets man above 
the rest of sensible beings, and gives him all the ad 
vantages and dominion, which he has over them, it is 


certainly even for its nobleness, worth our labor to in 
quire into. B. I. Ch. 1. 

Shall we explore all creation, and leave the mind un- 
exara.ned? Shall we penetrate every recess of earth, 
and remain in ignorance of the very faculties that exalt us 
above the brute." When we look abroad through the 
field of nature, we perceive other animals quickly ar 
rive at their utmost perfection their pleasures are 
fe^they live a contracted and ephemeral existence 
and their buns is forgotten as the path of an arrow 
through the yielding air. But man was born for nobler 
purposes; his stature is erect and turned to heaven 
us face is irradiated with the stamp of the Creator, and 
Ins mmd bears the indelible impress of the immortal 
signet. Such is his celestial formation, that, from his 
o\vn heart alone can his happiness proceed. The mo 
mentary gratification of the sensualist, the boasted feli 
city of the voluptuary, and the wild delirium of passion 
die on the altar so lately erected. Repletion brings 
satiety- the pleasures of sense gradually lose their vi 
vidness and yield to the influence of "reason and of 
time. But the longings of the mind are vast and im 
mortal: its course is ever onward, untircd, insatiate. 
he operations of the body are limited in power, and 
duration, but to those of the mind, no where has nature 
pronounced the malediction "thus far shalt thou ad 
vance and no farther/ It is the intellectual eye that 
is never satisfied with seeing, the intellectual ear that i* 
never satisfied with hearing. 

A* subservient to the great cause of education, the 
science of mind appears to me particularly to demand 
our attention. The elementary powers of the human 
mind are sensation, memory and association; the first 
enables us to receive, the second to retain, the last to 
exert and arrange ideas. To understand the extension 
and power of these faculties is of the first importance; 
that we may correct them when deficient, and in an es- 
pecial manner attend to the developement of each* 



"An infant, (says Miss Edgeworth) when examining 
an object with its little hands and lips, is as usefully 
employed as the fondest parent could desire. " Oracle. 
Than this period of life, there IK perhaps none more 
important, certainly, none more neglected. The whole 
train of mental operation is connected hy a most sensi 
tive chain, and the vibration of one link materially ef 
fects the entire machine. If the first perceptions, 
which pave the way for future investigation, are exer 
cised and confirmed, we ensure an acuteness in the 
subsequent developement of the faculties, which is truly 
astonishing. But if they arc checked, or Buffered to 
labor unassisted, a great deal must be acquired with 
difficulty in after time, which by proper attention might 
have (lowed (as it were) spontaneously. Though it is 
a melancholy fact, (proved by the experience of almost 
every one,) that great intellect is not always attended 
with Corresponding morality, yet, we assert, that though 
morality and religion may animate the most illiterate, 
those nicer feelings of rectitude that election which 
decides after impartial investigation, is only to be ac 
quired by the great expansion of the mind. Instruc 
tion in the languages and sciences is of comparatively 
little importance if we are inattentive to the habits ac 
quired: for, if the affections arc vitiated, we shall mere 
ly give arms to mad men, who will not fail to applv 
them to the most disgraceful purposes. Moral and 
intellectual education should go hand in hand, and mu 
tually regulate, restrain and encourage, the natural af 
fections; and direct, invigorate and enlighten the in 
tellectual powers. It isa wise and beneficent regulation 
ofprojk iilenceahat felicity is made to depend rather upon 
the direction of our dispositions, than the improvement 
of the mind: but (no one will be inclined to deny) the 
proper discipline of the intellect, greatly contributes to 
our happiness, both in our private situation, and our 
relation to the mass of mankind. The pleasures of ima 
gination (says the acute Hartley) are the next remote 


from sensible ones, and have in their proper place and 
degree, a great cflicacy in improving and perfecting 
our natures. They are to men in the early part of their 
adult age, what playthings are to children: they teach 
them a love for regularity, exactness, truth, simplicity; 
they lead them to the knowledge of many important 
truths, relating to themselves, the external world, aud 
its author. They habituate to invent and reason by 
analogy^ and induction: and when the social, moral and 
religious n flections begin to be generated in man. we 
may make a much greater progress towards the perfec 
tion of our natures by having a due stock, and no more 
than a due stock, of knowledge in natural and artificial 
things, of a relish for natural and artificial beauty." 
But laying aside the facilities which education affords 
to virtue, in enabling us to retain, recall, to examine 
and appreciate the truths of benevolence: laying 
aside (in that view) the evident and material connec 
tion of the heart and the head fa topic that has occu 
pied some of the best pages of Hartley, of Hamilton and 
f Edgeworth.) we shall proceed to examine in what 
degree the advancement of morals contributes to the 
advancement of learning. <Some people (says Miss 
Kdgeworth) have a notion, that the understanding and 
the heart, are not to be cultivated at the same time: but 
the very reverse of this is perhaps true: neither can 
they be brought to any perfection, unless they are cul 
tivated together." Prac. Educa. Ch. 10. 

If the passions war against reason, v*in is every ef 
fort to direct the latter: but if they converge to one 
|>oint, the result will be of the happiest character. To 
i nlivt them, the disposition on the side of the understan 
ding should be an object of primary importance. "A 
H-nse of our ignorance, (says Addison) is the first step 
to knowledge/ The youthful mind is generally elated 
with a trifling success; and, I believe, there arc few 
who cannot recollect some period during the earlv 
opening of the mind, when their opinion of thtir JK>W- 


ers was of a very exalted nature. When tke mind U 
reduced to a humility of its capacity, it is brought to 
a tone unshackled by prejudice or arrogance, and fitted 
to receive, retain and appropriate the lessons of truth. 
Vanity is perhaps the most universal quality in the 
youthful mind. 

Love of praise is a feature which runs through the 
whole species; and ft should be an especial care to in 
fuse into untainted youth, an early bent of this propen 
sity towards objects of undying interest. As it is un 
doubtedly the excess of nobler qualities and ambition, 
which, >\hen running into a proper channel, constitute* 
no small portion of our happiness; to give it a general 
bins, is of infinitely greater importance than mankind 
generally imagine. The influence t3f vanity, however 
useful, wltci* properly restrained, should be watched 
with attention. Diffidence is the most effectual pro- 
motive of mental improvement, and, under vanity, 
there is always a considerable share. But if praise 
becomes necessary to exertion, stimulus must be heaped 
upon stimulus, and at last failing, habit will preclude 
all efforts without increased incentive. Tlte growth 
of moral and mental enjoyments are connected by an 
intimate link. Every right disposition should be 
cherished (if for no other reason) as contributing 
essentially to the advancement of knowledge; and every 
sally of vice repressed at its first appearance. Every 
religious and reverential feeling will materially tend to 
cxak our conceptions, stimulate our efforts and enlight 
en our minds: and the more the heart is cultivated and 
the principles improved, the mon- will our intellect 
dilate, and our ideas expand. 

That the minds of men arc as different as their per 
sons that there is hi one an inborn inclination of char 
acter, which education in vain strives to implant in 
another, we are as fully persuaded as moral certainty 
can render us. The opinion that our nature possesses 
no innate diversity, but i* moulded iuto any form by 


(he jxnver of instruction, can, I think, be incontc^tably 
proved to be erroneous. We undoubtedly see in 
many men a peculiar bent of mind in which they dis 
play newel s of a superior order. Such arc the acci 
dents (says Dr. Johnson, commenting upon the effect, 
which Cowley states the perusal of Spencer s "Fairy 
Queen v had upon his mind at an early age in making 
him (in his own words) irretrievably a Poet, v ) which, 
sometimes forgotten and sometimes remembered, pro 
duce the particular designation of mind, and propen 
sity for some science or employment, which is com 
monly called genius. The true genius is a mind of 
large general powers," etc, -Vide, Life of Cowley. 

We have ever thought the species of argumentation, 
termed by logicians "argumentum ad verecundiam* 
available only by the uncandid disputant, atd have not, 
accordingly, hesitated to dissent from the authority 
cited above. We would inquire if Cowley had never 
perused books upon mathematics, moral philosophy, or 
metaphysics, and why a "mind of large general powers" 
did not seize upon one of those sciences as its field of 
action? Or, if hi* eager grasp of poetry (to the neglect 
of numerous distinct employments which readily sug 
gested themselves) comports with the idea of acciden 
tal adoption. 

The growth of a predominant passion, is often 
slow, and its origin obscure; but in length of time by a 
constant reiteration of impulse and bias, in consequence 
of some peculiar association of ideas incessantly obtru 
ded upon the mind, and exciting pleasure or pain, it 
becomes habitual and subsides into a settled tempera 
ment, and seemingly innate disposition of mind. " 

We cheerfully admit every point in the above ex 
tract, but dissent in toto to its application in the pre^ 
sent instance. We will simply ask the question, if 
two individuals could be placed in precisely the same 
situation from the moment of birth; if they could be 
to the same train of events if their minds 

118 UfcMAlXS MOUM.. 

vould receive the same impressions in short, if the 
scries of circumstances to which tlicy were subject., 
a ntl their education were in every respect similar: 
can we for a moment suppose that these individuals, 
upon arriving at manhood, would exhibit no diversity 
in the affections or intellect? I can never convince 
myself that they would not. 

But though education can never bestow those nicer 
feelings and that peculiar bent and power of mind 
which is denominated Genius, it can nevertheless call 
out and increase its energies, and by exercise enliven 
and strengthen the natural powers. It can render 
that aptitude more fixed and vigorous, and direct its 
vigor aright, which might otherwise, unaided, have 
wasted its strength in ineffectual efforts. We have 
adverted to the necessity of inducing the mind to 
exertion by the easy steps of attraction; but we con 
demn its continuance as calculated to check the vigor 
ous growth of the intellect and implant a supineness 
which \\ill require never-ending stimuli. The ascent 
of Parnassus, the road to knowledge, the **iter ad astiti" 
is unquestionably of laborious mastery: but that stem 
spirit which kindles at new difficulties, and resolves 
their domination, must be acquired. To struggle 
through fii-st hardships, some inducement is necessary, 
unconnected with the love of learning, but, unless the 
keenness of intellectual hunger be inculcated, the mind 
will shrink from greater labors, where the gifts of the 
pursuit are the only reward. The gradual, but never- 
ending developcment of the intellect can alone insure 
proportionate increase; and the mind which intuitively 
perceives truths, to master which the more obtuse 
require considerable reflection, and which hurries on, 
ever on the road to new associations, should as undoubt 
edly be clucked in its rapid but imperfect career, as 
the less vivacious should be excited to exertion. The 
intellect may be expanded to an inconceivable extent, 
and 1 am fully persuaded, such is its elastic power, 


that the most ordinary mind, by continual and well- 
directed efforts can rise to what is generally considered 
the "nc pins ultra" of talent and success. When I 
regard the splvndor of ancient literature: when I turn 
to their orators, so pre-eminent in precision, in argu 
ment, and the overwhelming tide of eloquence; to 
their poets whose harmony, perspicuity and grandeur 
the modern world has in vain toiled to rival; to their 
philosopher* and historians a powerful host! the re- 
flection irresistibly intrudes itself, vtiat their great per 
severance is the principal source of their immeasurable 


The note given below, which has seduced \[< 
into a long and rather discursive train of meditation. 
is borrowed from an article in one of the late numbers 
of the North American Review, devoted to what is 
styled a "Defence of Poetry." The Essay of which 
we speak would seem to have been intended; by the 
writer, to answer the cavils of those, who have ohjec- 

*"But utill the main current of education run* in the wide nnd not well de 
fined channel of immediate ind practical utility. The main point w, how to 
make the greatest progress in WWMIj pro*periy, how to advance mo.-t rapid 
ly in the career of gain. Tht, porhap*, H nece*.-arily the erne to n certain 
extent in a country, where every man i* taught to rely upon hw own fortune" 
and estate. Hat it ought not to he exclu.mcly HO. We oujht not, in the pur 
suit of wealth and wordly honor, to forget thoe embellishment* of the mind 
nnd the heart, which sweeten nocml intercourse and improve the condition of 
society. And yet, in the language of Dr. Palcj . "many of u are brought op 
with thi world let In-fore us and nothing elw. Whatever promotes thr> 
world s prosperity i praised; whatever hurt* and ofortrurt* thu world * pros 
perity is hlanifd ; and there all prai<*> and censure end. We see mankind about 
on in motion and action, bat all the*n motion* and action* directed to wordly 
object*. We bear their conversation but it t all the mme way. And ton v> 
what we *a and hoar from the first. The views, which are continually pla 
ced before oar eyes, regard tht* life alone and its interest*. Can it then be 
wondered at, that an early wordly-miodedneas it bred IB our hoArtJ* ao strong, M 
i Aut oat heavenly mindednesB entirely !" And this, though not in so many 
wtxtfe, yt in fact and in its practical teodoncy , is the popular doctrine of utility. 

120 mr.MAixs MORAL. 

ted to Poetry, that it gives wrong views, and excites 
false expectations of life peoples the mind with sha 
dow* and illusions ami builds up imagination on the 
ruins of wisdom. It also bears upon the old selfish sys 
tem of Hobbs and Rochefaucault, that all the desires 
of the human mind are reducible to self-love, or desire 
of private happiness the aggregate forming public 
well being and that from this source which forms 
the basis and essential feature of the new school of utili 
tarians spring all the actions of moral agents Upon 
the former bearing of the extract we will hereafter 
submit some strictures, and meanwhile, will confine 
ourselves to moral tendency. 

The main pillar of the system (Le due de Rochefau- 
cault) has, in his various works, so wrapped it up in 
confusion* sophistry and a complex tissue of argument 
as in a great degree to baflle investigation: for to op 
pose his many and minute illustrations would be a task 

"Now, under correction be it said, we are much led astray by thin word 
utility. There H hardly a word in our language who** meaning w no vague, 
nitd no often rm*undtTMtood and misapplied. We too often limit it* applica 
tion to thoMt acquisition* and pursuit*, which are of immediate and visible pro- 
tit to oureelve and tlu- community ; regarding as comparatively or utterly use- 
teiM to many other*, which, though more remote in their effect* and more inn 
perreptiMe in thnr o|>ri aiion . are, notwithstanding, higher in their aim, wider 
in their inHucmc, more certain in their result*, and more intimately connected 
with the common weal. \\ are too nit to tlii/.U that nothing can be useful, 
but what w done with a new*, at noonday, and at the corner* of the street*; a 
if action and utility were synonymous, aud it were not ax u-*el*v* to act with 
out thinking, a-* k * to think without acting. But the truth is, the word utility 
ha* a wider signification than thw. It embraces in it* proper definition what 
ever contributes to our happiness; and thus include* many of those art" and 
science*, many of those secret studies and solitary avocation*, which are gen 
erally regarded either a* useless, or as absolutely injurious to nociety. Not ho 
alono docs service to the State, whose wisdom guides her councils at home, 
nor he whose voice asserts her dignity abroad. A thousand little nils, spring- 
Ing up in the retired walks oflife, go to swell the ru.-hing tide of national glory 
and prosperity; and whoever iu the solitude of his chamber, and by even a 
single effort of hi- mind, has added to the intellectual pre eminence of his 
country, has not lived in vain, nor to himself alone. Does not the pen of the 
kistorian perpetuate the fame of the hero and the statesman ? Does not their 
nuniM live in the song of the bard? Do not the pencil and the chisel touch 
the soul while they delight ths ey? Does not the npirit of the patriot and the 
sage, looking from the painted canvass, or eloquent from the marble lip, hlr our 
htarta with veneration for all that is great in intellect, aud godlike m virtue*" 

REMAINS M011A1.. 121 

i)f inconceivable time, toil and difficulty. We shall 
merely advert to the general theory, against which 
there can he offered but little argument, though our 
knowledge of what passes in our own mind, leaves no 
room for hesitation. They ascribe to us motives, 
which enter not an honest heart. Men are virtuous 
by an involuntary impulse, and an idea of ultimate ad 
vantage enters not their imagination. We need, in re 
futation of so degrading a doctrine, merely to apiK-al to 
our own feelings; and I am assured, every one possesses 
in his own breast delightful refutation of its plausible 
sophistry. I appeal to the experience? and imjuire, if, 
in the holy duties of filial affection the offices of friend 
ship, or the instantaneous impulse of pity, such unfeel 
ing calculations of the plus minus of benefit to self, has 
any place in our thoughts?* Whence arises the prin 
ciple of sv lf denial exhibited in the infant mind? In 
vain we refer to reason, nnd the prospect of good 
consequences. The contracted views of childhood can 
see no advantage beyond the present. In vain habit is 
called to our aid; an action flowing from succession, 
can never account for the first of the series. Failing 
to determine these as its sources, we are forced to at 
tribute it to a peculiar faculty and the inscrutable ways 
oi Providence. We find the following quoted, (Hres* 
Encyclo. Art. Philosophy) from Godwin s Political Jus 
tice: "It is not our business in the direction of our 
benevolent exertion, to consider the relation in which 
the individual stands to us; but in that in which he 
stands in society. Nor is he my parent, relative, 
friend, or benefactor, but as he is a worthy or worthless 
member of society." The above resembles the licen- 

*Thw system which philosophically coiMidered is on worthy attention, and 
which we have been induced to touch upon only from lh danger incident 
to it* adoption, ha* been so ably refuted in all it* bearing* by Dr. llochor*on 
("Hlofltration* of the Moral Sense,") that we are ilmot anhamed to advance 
any thing of oar own, bat might well content oaraelve* with etlrecU from bw 
treatise, aware, that, independent of our own con*ciou*nw to determine our 
conviction, we would imperceptibly borrow ill our notions from bi 



tious system of the splenetic Mandeville (whom we re 
ceive at the hands of others, having no further acquain 
tance with the tenets) who demonstrates all virtue "the 
political offspring which flattery hegets upon pride. * 
Such sweeping denunciations against human nature, 
founded on a few scattered instances, and extended in 
to a system, and applied to the whole species, though 
they may mislead the superficial observer, are so readi 
ly refuted by th<! highest appeal to conscience and our 
own emotions, that we deem it unnecessary to enter in 
to any consideration of it. further than to recommend, 
as ancflicicnt solution of these apparent discrepancies, 
a candid appeal to the unerring monitor of the human 

In morals there must he some rule adapted to capa 
cities of the smallest calibre; while in the hair-drawn 
diseussions of casuists, it is difficult, even to be well- 
informed, to divest the subject of the subtilty, and the 
perplexing and extraneous dross with which they en 
velope it. Accordance to reason is emphatically elec 
tion, decision or choice: and bow either of these can 
(contrary to human propensity) become rules of con- 
duet, without a sorrow which dissuades from, and a joy 
which prompts, their continual exercise, 1 confess my 
self unable to determine. We must ultimately, for our 
criterion of moral approbation, refer to the constitu 
tion of our moral nature. 

Why am I virtuous in pin-suing a certain line of 
conduct? Because (say the advocates for utility) it is 
consistent with reason and the fitness of things. 

Why am I obliged to obey the fitness of things or 
pay respect to the dictate of reason? Because (they 
rejoin) it is proper, useful, etc. But no impartial 
observer can fail in perceiving that as the final rule 
of action, the true arid unavoidable answer is "I am 
prompted to do so by my nature, and the inscrutable 
provisions of the Creator." We may shuttle off the 
question, we may retire btep by step, and evade it, 


vrith a semblance of reasoning, but retreat as we may, it 
recurs with accelerated force, nor can we dismiss it by 
any worse tautology. It is futile to inquire bow we 
are thus constituted by nature: every unsophisticated 
ami not irretrievably debased mind is conscious of this 
feeling: the reason we refer, as beyond our contracted 
vision, to the great author of things, who has made us 
moral beings in his bounteous distribution of the source* 
of happiness. 

But our opponents may further rejoice, that, though, 
thus far they yield, they still attribute the feeling 
(which every heart unsteeled by sophistry and unseared 
by vice must unhesitatingly admit) to other and dis 
tinct causes. 

To this we reply that the sensation is peculiar it 
is one which all must as distinct from 
the feelings of pleasure or pain excited by other causes. 

But on ibis point we will be silent, as we can place 
elucidation in abler hands. 

Is this emotion "the same with taste whirh is a per 
ception of the accordance of parts of a complex object, 
fend of the feelings of pleasure arising from the com 
bined t- fleet? Is there nothing wort: indicated by it 
than the calm satisfaction which arises from the con 
sideration of speculative truth?" Does tin* delight 
tthich arises in my mind at the recollection of a fellow 
creature, who has been raised by my aid from want 
and misery to competence and comfort, excite no feel 
ings more vivid, than what I experienced, when I first 
learned that the angles at the base of an isosceles trian 
gle are equal? Or do I, in such a case, when the feel 
ings of self-respect are most ardent in my mind, reflect 
how important it is to society to have an useful, \veU 
fed, athletic citizen, in the place of one who was be* 
fore poor, wretched and worthless? 

Or, is the precious incense which the heavenly 
monitor applies 10 my heart* to be brought for a mo 
ment into a vile, decjading comparison with the astow- 


ishing power of a water-mill or a steam engine. If 
then, m ither taste nor reason, nor the perceptions of 
utility he sufficient to account for feelings of inovnl ap 
probation, it remains that it must he considered as a 
pi CtiliaV emotion, and an ultimate fact in human na 
ture. lecture on the Moral Sense. 

That the moral emotion is excited on some occasions 
more than others, has heen advanced to prove the fu 
tility of our system: the language of a perspicuous 
writer, (lirown, vol. iii. page 22.) furnishes us with a 
satisfactory refutation. "In the first place, it must he 
admitted, that there are moments in which the mind is 
wholly incajKible of perceiving moral differences that 
is to say, in which the emotions that constitute the 
feeling of these moral differences do not arise. Such 
arc all the inovementsof a very potent passion. When 
the impetuosity of tin: passion is abated, indeed, we 
perceive that we have done what we now look upon 
with honor, hut when our passions were most violent, 
\ve were truly hliuded hv it, or at least saw what it 
pcrmutciiiis to sec. The moral emotion has not arisen, 
because the whole soul was occupied by a different 
species of. feeling. The moral distinctions, however, 
or general tendency of actions to excite this emotion, 
arc not OH this account lc&* certain: or we must say> 
that the truths of arithmetic, and all other truths art- 
uncertain, since the mind, in a state of passion, would 
be equally incapable of distinguishing these. He who 
has lived for years in the hope of revenge, and who has 
at length laid his foe at his feet, may, indeed, while he 
pulls out the dagger from the heart that is quivering 
beneath it, be incapable of feeling the crime w Inch he 
has committed: hut would he at that moment be abler 
to tell the square of four or cube of two? All his mind, 
at that moment, is one wild state of agitation, which 
allows nothing to be felt but the agitation itself/ It 
has been urged against our s\Vem, that there are no 
duties which have been universally esteemed obliga- 


ton", and the violation of which has not at some period 
been sanctioned by general consent. In support of 
their assertion, they adduce the example of savage 
nations who in many cases destroy their parents in their 
old age. Admitting this fact we reply that it is readily 
accounted for by their different views of utility, and 
by no means supposes an absence of the moral seiuse. 
In savage countries, the majority of the inhabitants 
depending for subsistence upon the precarious produce 
of the chase, and the hunter s life requiring long and 
perilous excursions, they humanely cut off the aged 
and infirm, who are unable to undergo the fatigue, and 
if left behind must perish a prey to hunger, or to the 
beasts of the forest. To show how much nations are 
attached to their customs, Herodotus relates, that Da 
rius, the Persian, having assembled the Greeks who 
were under his command, demanded of them what 
money they would require to eat the dead bodies of 
their parents as the Indians did; and it being answered, 
that it was not possible they cor.ld ever abandon them 
selves to so great an inhumanity: the King, in the pre 
sence of the same Greeks, demanded of some Indians, 
what money they would tike to burn the dead bodies 
of their parents, as the Greeks did. The Indians, ex 
pressing the utmost horror, entreated the King to 
impose upon them any thing less dreadful and unjust: 
to a similar purport would the Hottentot reply to one 
who expostulated with him upon the peculiar opinions 
of his nation.* 

*"Cat your ryes" (say* Roonscnu,) "orer nil the nation* of the world, ami 
all the hist 01 k^ of nation*: amid > many inhuman and aboard Kupcrttitions 
amid that prodigious diversity of manner* and characters you will find even 
where the *ame distinctions of moral good and evil. The j^an^m of the 
ancient world produced indeed abominable god*, who, <Tn earth, would have 
been shunned or punished M monsters, and who offered as a picture of *uprem* 
happinew, only crime* to commit and paasion* to satiate. Bat rice armed 
with this acred authority descended in vain from the eternal abode; she found 
mthe heart* *f men a moral instinct to repel her/ 

"The holy roice of nature, stronger than that of the god*, made ttnelf beard, 
and respected, and obeyed on earth, and peemed to banish M it were to \b* 
of beaten, guilt and the fihy." Rc*n<av. 

126 ttLMAIN* 1 OLinCAl*. 

Hut* independent of this apparent discrepancy 
uncivilized tribes, the same position has hecn urged in 
all states of society, and the morality of a deviation 
from truth, has heen particularly insisted upon. As 
this point has been made of consequence to the grand 
hearing of the question, we will briefly consider it. 
Veracity is the conformity of our words and actions to 
what we profess and believe to be true. The benefit* 
accruing to society from the observance of this virtue, 
and the evils succeeding its violation are so extensive, 
that it is by no means surprising that a high rank has 
been assigned to it in the scale of morality. That the 
practice of lying is an utter dereliction of moral duty- 
that it is cowardice to man and impiety to heaven 
that it destroys confidence and undermines society 
that its path is marked with desolation, tearing asunder 
friendship and benevolence those sacred links that 
bind mankind together, are truths as evident as the 
mid-day sun. They are universally understood uni 
versally conceded. Thus far our opponents and our 
selves in every respect coincide. Hut they tell us that 
every rule admits of exceptions they condemn it as a 
practice, but insist that some deviations are indispensa 
ble. Why, they might as well tell us that they condemn 
murder, but can see no objection to occasional assassi 
nation! That robbery excites indignation, but that 
some robbers are necessary to the well-being uf society! 
The weakness of such reasoning is so glaring that 
demonstration is hardly requisite. Hut, lest it be said 
that we decide without investigation, we will coiKidci 4 
one moment these cxcepted cases to which our adver 
saries so earnestly cling. We will explore these loop 
holes of retreat, and examine if one of them be legal 
places of refuge. The exceptions arc not many and 
may be quickly despatched. 

Can I tell a lie for my amusement? Xo inconvenience 
"results all are aware of the deception no one is im 
posed on. Hut, on the contrary, if I am permitted on 


any trifling occasions is it not ingrafted in the nature 
of nun that the propensity will increase, until like. 
Virgil s goddess of fame, (rin M/itc acquirit Hindu.** etc.) 
it embraces every thing small or momentous human 
or divine? It is superfluous to dwell upon the other 
instances commonly advocated. The plain and direct 
rule (says that inflexible moralist Dr. Johnson) is to do 
our duty, and leave the consequences to him who con 
trols them, hut by no means to step aside from the plain 
path of right, in s. arch of what may be, in our frail es 
timation, expedient. It will he admitted, equally by 
those who believe, and those who discredit amoral sus 
ceptibility, that there is a propensity to utter truth, 
when no motive to the contrary interferes, and to be 
lieve what is told us, when we have no strong ground 
for suspicion. Every one is conscious of an effort to 
smother nature in telling a falsehood, and (as few boast 
titter exemption from this vice) we all can appreciate 
the difficulty to be undergone in its perpetration. 

We are far from denying that the Moral Sense may 
by neglect become clamorous, and by habitual disregard 
and a continued course of abandoned villainy, be even 
totally eradicated. 

We believe the fact. We arc forced unwillingly to 
admit, that such is the depravity of human nature, that 
men may so smother this feeling, this invaluable boon, 
which heaven intended as our guide, through the la 
byrinths of scepticism and vice, that its wanting voice 
may be hushed, and resign the obdurate breast to the 
unbounded riot of sensuality. 

**If the voice of conscience from within, and the call 
of religion from above, if the acclamations of all whose 
opinion in society is worth consulting, if the thought 
of happiness to be acquired be dear to you, if the ex 
pectation of painful and inevitable retribution both here 
and hereafter be dreadful to you defer not for a day, 
not an hour, your resolution to be virtuous." Essay on 
Moral Sense. "Man (Brown, vol. iii. p. 139) is tnily 


man, as he yields to this divine influence. He cannot 
resist it, but by flying as it were from his own bosom, 
and laying aside the general feeling of humanity, by 
which very act he must have already inflicted on him 
self the severest of punishments, even though he were 
to avoid whatever is usually accounted punishment." 

In conclusion, we have examined the system of Mo 
rals on the other side of the question, if not fully, at least 
as fur as we have gone, impartially. If we have Mista 
ken their reasoning, given too little weight to their ar 
guments, or misrepresented their doctrines, we can only 
plead in our defence, that we can see with no other or 
gans than our own; and with a sincere readiness to be 
enlightened, we say to our opponents, 4 si quid noviste 
rectius istis Candidus imperti; si non his utere meam;" 
here though we must aflirm, that after an unbiassed 
consideration, our conviction of the truth of our sys 
tem remains yet unshaken, and "nisi machiuis validiori- 
hus impulsa, in trtcrnum durabit." 

Such are our opinions on this subject, on which we 
have thought long and intensely such is the result of 
our calm and impartial examination. Such do we be 
lieve to be the only true conclusion, which is calcula 
ted to reconcile human naiure to itself, and which, we 
trust, will be acceded to by all, who carefully examine 
the structure of their own minds. The voice of nature 
is our only sure guide. And, it is that, which, distinct 
from the tottering, unnatural and incompatible deduc 
tions of sophistry, is calculated to correct, enlarge and 
exalt our ideas of the Deity, and which constitutes tin 
only certain basis of belief. 

"Unerring Nature, still divinely bright, 
* One pure, unchanged and universal light." 




In vulgar bosoms and unnoticed lie, 
* These stores of secret wealth. Hut some there are 
Conscious of N;iture and the rule, which man 
O er Nature holds; some, who within themselves 
Retiring from the trivial scenes of chance 
And momentary passion, can at will 
Call up these fair exemplars scan the secret laws 
Which hind them to each other, a:ul convey 
Hy si-jus, or sounds, or colors, to the sense, 
Their latent charms." AKENMHE. 

The human mind, is not unlike the law of gravity 
it is forever operative and active. It rests by action, 
and would seem to realize that much desired engine, 
the ideal of material attributes, the faci.Itv of perpetual 
motion. It is an insatiate appetite* which enlargvs 
41 ml acquires new vigour from its repasts. It is forever 
on the search, and wandering in pursuit of new con- 
quests, and seeming to despise the very means which 
it has employed for their attainment. These are some 
of its characteristics: hut there are yet others. When 
we look abroad into the fields and forests of Nature, we 
perceive other animals quickly arrive at their utmost 
perfection: their pleasures are few they live a con- 
tracU d and ephemeral existence, and thfir being is 
forgotten, even as the path of an arrow, through the 
yielding air. But man was born for far nobler purpo 
ses, his stature is erect, an 3 turned to heaven,* his 
face is irradiated wth the stamp of the Creator, and his 
mind bears the indelible impress of th* immortal signet. 
Such is his celestial formation, that from his own heart 
alone can his happiness proceed. The momentary gra 
tification of the sensualist, the boasted felicity of the 

*Prona com wp*rtnt animatia 

On Homini nl>lime dedit, cerium*]: taeri 



voluptuary, and the wild delirium of passion, die on 
the altar so lately erected; reflection hrinirs satiety: 
the pleasures of sense gradually lose their vividness, and 
yield to the influence of reason und of time. But the 
longings of the mind are vii and immortal; it* 
course is ever progressive, nii ircd, insatiate. The 
operations of the body are limited in power and dura 
tion, but in thos- ot lhe mind, no where l:as nature pro 
nounced the decree, which is, indeed, a malediction, 
thus far shall thoti advance, and no farther." It is the 
intellectual ear that is never satisfied with hearing. 
The happiness of man has been the gr. iU object of his 
Creator; he has engrafted in him a portion of his own 
nature, and b*stovvid on hiiii faculties eap;ille of idc- 
funte expansion. The unbounded Theatre ofj\\;!irr 
is b. !" * him: the air, the earth, the sky, sprtnd illiini- 
t i L treasures before him, and invite lis attention. If 
we glance at the earliest a ires of society, we shall find, 
that man, by nature indcp nK nt. exercising licentious 
liberty, prone ttnl r.i!\ lo protect liisown, but to en- 
cronrh I:]M.M that of others, was hound in the social 
cni".jMi:t of mutual dependence, by the fiiNt exireise of 
knowledge; and that only is the tie, which ki iis so 
ciety together, and prevents it from foiling into its ori 
ginal chaos. As the mind expands, the manners and 
moruls improve. Religious awe is strengthened, and 
firmness and consistency of character established and 
invigorated. The blandishments of vice resign their 
power the rancour of intolerance is softened, the uni 
versal might of prejudice disarmed, and the mind re 
duced to a serenity and tone of patient reflection, cnii- 
hently calculated to harmoni/e its powers and disperse 
the lingering shadows of error. 

To trace a mighty river to its source, has ever been 
considered a sublime and interesting employment. To 
ascend the narrowing .stream from its mouth, whence it 
pours its united power into the unfathomable ocean, to 
the spot, where it bubbles in insignificance, and scarce- 

111. MAINS MOKAI,. 131 

ly attracts attention, is a work of noble and salutary in 
terest. Infinitely greater is the t;isk. to niatvh against 
the current of civilization, to trace knowledge in her 
progress, and explore the first dawn of her benign prc- 
iloininanrc. In the infancy of society, the wild animal 
howled over the vast wildernesses of nature, and the 
solitary forest was trodden only by the savage beast or 
the more merciless crutniha). Forced by the stern call 
of necessity, man s first aim was to sustain existence, 
ami the spontaneous offspring of the earth and the prc- 
cario i^ product of the chase called forth all his efiorts. 
ClKiKicd d \vn by his passions, his aims all centered in 
one givitt locus sensual gratification. Knowing no ar- 
ncnt but arms, jjowcr was his only rule of right, and 
\\ith some few of the nobler feelings of our noturc, he 
possessed all the vices of unrestrained, uneducated bar 

Hut obeying the impulse of the mind, which is ever 
progressive, he spurned his former ignorance, and 
eagerly embraced the r;ifts of agriculture, who now 
proffered her assistance. The lurking thicket and the 
war-clad plain, were resigned for the field and the 
vineyard and the uncertain encampment for the per 
manent domicile. The bar an:l the battle-axe were 
converted into the harrow and plough-share, and the 
peaceful oxen usurped the place- and pageantry of the 
glittering war-horse. The arts soon began to engraft 
themselves upon the expanding intellect, an:l the mul 
tifarious branches of collateral science, urged on the 
general emancipation and development of mind. 

That the minds of men are as different as their per 
sons: that there is in one an inborn inclination of cha 
racter, which education in vain strives to implant in 
another, we are as fully persuaded as moral certainty 
can render us. The opinion, that our nat ire j>ossesses 
no innate diversitv, but is moulded into any form by the 
]>ower of instruction can. we think, be incontcstably 
proven to be erroneous. We undoubtedly sec in many 


men a peculiar bent of mind, in which they display 
power of a superior order. Such are the accident* 
(says Dr. Johnson, commenting upon the effect which, 
Cowley states the perusal of Spencer s IViry Queene * 
had upon his mind at an early age, in making him in 
his own language, ^irretrievably a poet *) which, some 
times forgotten and sometimes remembered, produce 
the particular designation of mind and propensity for 
some science or employment, which is commonly call 
ed genius. The tn/e genius is a mind of large gvmral 
poucrs, etc.* We have ever thought the species of 
argumentation, termed by logicians, ^argwnvntnm ait 
Vi-rvrnndiam" available only to the uncandid disputant, 
and have not, accordingly, hesitated to dissent from the 
high authority above. We would enquire if Cowley 
had never perused hooks upon mathematics moral 
philosophy, or metaphysics and why a "mind of large 
ftntftu powers,* did not seize upon one of these 
sciences, as its field of fiction? Or, if his eager grasp 
of poetry, (to the neglect and exclusion of numerous 
distinct employments, \\hich readily suggested them 
selves) comports with the idea of accident::! adoption? 
The growth of a predominant passion is often slow and 
its origin obscure: hut iu length of time by a constant 
reiteration of impulse and bias, in consequence of some 
peculiar association of ideas incessantly obtruded upon 
the mind, and exciting pleasure or pain, it becomes ha 
bitual and subsides into a settled temperament and 
seemingly innate disposition of mind/ We cheerfully 
admit . very point in the above extract, but dissent, 
in toto, to its application in the present instance. We 
will simply ask the question, if two individuals could 
be placed in precisely the same situations from the mo 
ment of birth if they could be exposed to the same 
train of events, if their minds could receive the same 
impression in short, if the series of circumstances to 
which they are subject, and their education in the most 

Lifts of Cowk-v. 


extensive sense of the term could be in every rcs|>ect 
similar: can we for a moment suppose, that these indi 
viduals, upon arriving at manhood, would exhibit no 
diversity in the affections or intellect? We can never 
persuade ourselves that they would not. Phifasoftlu/ 
has shown in the works of the Creator, a dissimilarity 
which attracts at once our wonder ami admiration. 
In the subordinate class of inanimate being, there can 
be found no two objects, which in every respect coin 
cide: and in the human mind the same divci-sity is vi 
sible. There are some, who have been more indulged 
by nature than others; who have received that dan 
gerous gift of genius whose minds are alive to the 
slightest indignity as an indelible stain whose souls 
are never tranquil, but always either in a state of rap 
ture or supreme misery who are at one time adored 
for their discoveries. at another, despised for their er 
rors: who now mount with almost super-human energy 
to some hitherto unreached eminence, and then sink in 
the sulleuness of despair who find life a scene of mise 
ry, because their more sensitive frames cannot bear it* 
bufletingS. Who should they be (as most often hap 
pens) of a poetical temperament, would fain retire 
from the busy haunts of men to some desolate shore: 
there to view nature in her loftiest mood: to gaze at 
the pointed crag towering aloft to Heaven: to see the 
Eagle soaring in all the pride of majesty: to listen to 
the screaming sea gull and the shrill moan of the bittern. 
Then, when the evening shades advance, to admire the 
lengthening shadows of the mountains, and view their 
giant forms sink in the surrounding darkness. Then 
to sit and gaze, with all the rapture of refined imagina 
tion, on the pale moon, ruling the lesser lights and se 
lect some bright star as the guardian of his life. To 
watch the waters to listen to the beating of the 
surge, and view the white, sparkling foam on its 
top:- -to see the tempest arise to hear the winds 
suddenly free from their caves, howling over the 

134 K KM A INS MO I! At.. 

vast expanse: to watch the glare of the vivid light- 
! and listen to the loud artillery of Heaven: to 
view the elements in their grandeur and the Creator 
in his might: who tired of the world, its mazes, its 
deceits and its troubles, would resign it for the dreari 
est spot on the face of the wide globe. Such n re some 
of<he feelings, which elnracteri/c genius, when united 
with a mind, yet untainted with vice, or \\hosc enthu 
siasm has not yet hetn chilled hy the too uncertain 
lights of fortune. Hut hi> dream is hut as the sunshine 
of an April day. and the blasts of misfortune uss-ul him. 
with a poignancy which King doubly felt, is doubly 
hard to be borne. The opposite of this diameter 
(one confirmed by the most superficial experience) to 
\\hoiu natuiv has been less lavisli. tb:>ugh he has not 
his brilliancy, still possesses his warmth. He may not 
ownlhat delicacy of ta^te. hut then misfortunes a fleet 
hi MI less. He may not enjoy that fire and animation, 
but his vigor is unimpaired and constantly increasing. 
Uis fancy may not he as brilliant, but he has unyielding 
fortitude, stern industry, and indefatigable exertion. 
He may not rise to such a height, but he is more per 
manent. He may not as often surpass expectation, but 
he scldomiT falls below it. He may not enjoy those 
feelings of rapture but he is destitute of the calm 
which succeeds them. His light may not be as da/.- 
zli ig but it is more invigorating. His discoveries 
may not be as brilliant, but in tin* even tenor of his lift-, 
he dilluses as he feels, a wholesome degree of moderate 
joy around him. 

Of the sources of man s deterioration or improvc- 
, ment, the imagin-ition is a faculty peculiarly capable of 
bestowing on him infinite pleasure, or of provoking in 
him infinite misery. 

It can exalt him to the greatest felicity of which he 
is susceptible, and lower him to the meanest degrada 
tion, to which his nature is liable. When properly 
restrained and directed, decorating every scene with 


verdure ami strewing luxuriant flowers over the bar- 
ivii wiWcmcss of nature: \\hui indulged to excess, 
plunging into melancholy, phrcny.y, aiul di^cMiietude. 
It is this faculty,* \\hioh. unchecked by n fkction. 
produces so many mental alienations an;l disorders, ma 
king weak brains, when powerfully impress- d. conceive 
t! at their bodies ar;.- metamorphosed into v;,roi,s ani 
mals, that they are possessed by lemons, that the y are 
under the infernal dominion of >%itchcra fly etc. Two of 
the sorest maladies, to which the imagination is subject, 
are the opposite i! sorters of fickleness and <kspr,n.U iicy. 
The former ind ic .-s a recklessness and contempt of 
others, which, if indulged in. infallibly superinduce a 
vacuity of mind and pursuit* and consequent tendency 
to error. Mfy vagnnt fancy spurns the restrains of 
sober order, and finally, unl"v* the pruning knife of 
reason !>c applied. ir. lnd< s in t!)c sco|ic nf it^ mockery 
and contempt every tiling sacred and* divine. 

Hut if the imagination possessed with levity, ^ thus 
obnoxious to error and disagreeable in its effect; mm h 
greater is the perversion and suffering of that mind, 
which melancholy corrodes. 

The harrdssing dreams of superstition, the enerva 
ting assaults of reverse, and the p!mii7,y of religious 
enthusiasm, all unitedly attack the ir victim, and the 
bustling scenes of active life, the buffeUingp of the 
world, and the cravings of necessity alone, can cft cct 
his cure. It is an incontestible fact that our life, our 
occupation, our eminence, in short our whole felicity* 
essentially depends upon the direction of our thoughts. 
As far therefore, as our thoughts are in our power, 
(and that they are so in a great measure, cannot be 
doubted,) it is of the utmost importance that they flow 
in a course subservient to valuable purposes. The 
human mind is a vast, ample theatre, upon which every 
thing in human life is acted, i^ood or bad, great or tri 
fling, laudable or base."f When the mind is resigned 

Vdluire V. Philosophical Dictionary. tReid T*nj IV. 

l.Jli U\tAlNS MGHAL. 

to the influence of fancy, it loses command of its owrt 
associations its efforts tend to the same region of re 
flection, and in time these creations acquire all the 
power of settled habits. Distempered ravings arc taken 
for reality, and the mind, weakened hy want of the 
manly pursuits of life, fancies itself in situations dia 
metrically opposite to truth, and v, and ITS into wilder 
extravagancies, than those of tlu astronomer,* who 
imagined himself the regulator of the seasons. A par 
ticular train of thought engrosses the mind to the ex* 
elusion of others, and it recurs to the delightful picture, 
(the oHspriiig of hope,) or the gloomy foreboding (the 
c licet of morbid sensibility,) whenever the stern voice 
of truth reminds of earth, its realities and cares. What 
was at first indulged in as a recreation, becomes a set 
tled habit, and the dreams of a disordered fancy (in 
pectorc ci gro nascunterdoKuni,) bind us, incapable of 
resistance, it; abject and habitual submission. The 
"soft enthusiast,* whose imagination, unchecked by 
judgment, wanders in one continual scene of intellec 
tual democracy requires daily greater excitement and 
ultimately deadens his capacity by continual and mis 
directed ellbrts. Accustomed to contemplate the high 
wrought scenes of sensibility, he is incapable of ming 
ling in the pursuits of active virtue, incapacitated for 
the calm enjoyment of life, and with feelings too much 
excited by a fastidious refinement, to relish aught but 
the height of bliss, or excess of virtue, which summit 
of felicity is attainable only for a moment, disgust is 
the inevitable consequence, and guilt treads in the 
footstep* of disquiet. That ideal perfection of virtue 
springs from a mind of morbid sensibility, and with a 
glorious, though impracticable, theory, he often deserts 
those plain dictates of honesty, which grosser and less 
sensitive spirits have universally adhered to. Such 
are the miseries of an unchecked imagination. Hut 
on the contrary, the pleasures of a vigorous and well 

*l>r. Johnson * 


directed fancy are at least equal in tlieir effects. "How 
happy" (says the venerable Kcid) "is that mind in 
which the light of real knowledge dispels the phantoms 
of superstition; in which the belief and reverence oft. 
perfect, all-governing mind, casts out all fear of doing 
wrong; in which serenity and cheerfulness, innocence, 
humanity and candor guard the imagination against 
every unhallowed intruder, and invke more amiable 
and worthy thoughts to dwell/ 


"The man" says the same author," whose mind is 
occupied by these quests must be wise: he must be 
good, and must be happy." The mind cannot be al 
ways busy, but must sometimes relax itself from the la 
bor of reflection. The thirst of knowledge cannot al 
ways subsist without satiety or weariness, and there is 
nc more bountiful provision, for the recovery of the 
ardor of enquiry, than the tendency of the mind to fly 
from the pursuits of life, to combine the discordant 
sources of happiness, and solace itself in the boundless 
lot of fancied felicity. 

There are few pleasures, unconnected with labor, in 
which men can indulge without making inroads upon 
virtue. Few can be at the same time unoccupied and 
innocent. To extend the sphere of our uncontamina- 
ted enjoyments, and ensure t relaxation, which, while 
it unbends the mind, detracts nothing from the heart, 
there is perhaps, no surer method than to cultivate the 
pure wanderings of the faucy. The mind awakens to 
a new existence, and scenes, before noticed (if at allj 
with indifference, are gilded by its influence with all 
the varying hues of beauty, and disclose unnumbered 
charms, before invisible.* 

&ot not to the intellect akm do ti tmlHes of Ima*in*t loo 
bat, coch to the intimate contx?ctwn of matter and mind, that whatever aff*5ti 
the ono, predaees a coTOvpooding iaftveace over the othor; and Sir Fnnc 
Baeoa hu ranked UK* arwm, tbo * tfltec* >"* 



"The high born soul Jj 

Disdain* to rest her heaven anpiring wing, 
Beneath its native quarry. Tired of earth 
* And this diurnal scene, she springs ak)ft 

Thro* fields of air; pursues the (tying storm; 
Hides on the vollied lightning thro the heavens. 
Or yoked with whirl-winds and the northern blast. 
Sweeps the long tract of day." AKLNSIDF. 

To stand amid the works of the wonderful architect 
as their admiring interpreter: to look around, not 
with the unconscious gaze of mere animal sensation: 
but to comprehend in their qualities tad uses, the thing 
we behold, the air the sun-shine the lightning the 
storm to see all things rising in their order and mo 
ving in their harmony: to stand, as did the first man, 
call by their names "all things that" j^ss before ns, is 
to take one of the noblest and happiest positions on 
earth, and fit test too for the Lord of this lower creation. 

There 5 no heart so seared by woitlly pursuits no 
understanding so uncultivated no bosom so steeled by 
the grovelling things of earth, as to be incapable, at 
certain moments, "short though they be, and far be 
tween* of enjoying that divine emotion, which steals 
the soul from the umvorthy anxieties of the world and 
makes it "hold converse with the gods." 

We cannot forbear, at times, to turn with a sicken 
ing feeling from the cheerless pin-suits of bustling life 
and the heartless, all absorbing interest of gain, to re 
fresh the eye \\ith the never-fading verdure of a golden 
age, and drink the living waters that gush from the 
fountain of inspiration- perennial Helicon the sacred 
retreat of the Muses! The poet is the pioneer of im 
provement. Before science is advanced and civiliza 
tion diflused, the productions of the bard are com 
puterequiring not the aid of learning to paint scenes 
familiar to his childhood, the characters with whom 
he had acted, and events in which himself has borne 
9 part Thus he is the first to oflei the fruits of his 

KKNtAtNS MOfcAI.. 439 

aid foremost in the career of those arts, destin 
ed to polish his uncivilized countrymen. -Unaided, at 
an early age, hy learning, the situation of the poet more 
than compensates this defect. The herald of events 
passing before him, or of tradition, equally believed 
not recalling the sentiments and manners of a remote 
and obscure age, he requires .not the admonition of the 
critic, to reflect upon the ideas aid expressions suited 
to his characters. The language of feeling flows spon 
taneously from the movements of his own heart and he 
has no occasion to copy. Imitation misleads not his 
judgment, nor fetters his imagination. He delivers sen 
timents dictated by nature for he has no other preceptor. 
His sentiments flow as if from inspiration, not inven 
tion: no effort is visible, but he appears hurried on 
by the moral impulse of instinct. Such is the simple, 
yet lofty lay of the early bard, enjoying licence denied 
to the poet of after times. 

"Ant prodcsse volant, aut delcctarc Poets;" the 
aim of the poet is pleasure and profit united. The 
former the ostensible and immediate the latter the 
indirect, though ultimate, object of his efforts. A poet 
in name, but a philosopher in effect, pursuing the 
same end by different means, he veils what would have, 
otherwise, been harsh and displeasing, in the enticing 
form and feature of amusement. The one appeals to 
reason alone, the other more forcibly addresses the 
judg wnt, aided by the influence of tbe pos>ions. The 
former boldly commences the attack upon the princi 
ples the latter, by a circuitous and skilful delay, first 
prepos*es the heart. The one. with the stern voice of 
truth aloae, forces conviction; the other disdains not 
the assistance of harmonious measure, captivating 
imagery, and all the tinsel and imagery of fable. " The 
philosopher, bound down, to (act, pursues his course ^n 
a circumscribed and preordained path: the poet, with 
<; charter wide as the wild wind" ranges uncontrolled 
over the exjwnse of Nature. Fiction (says the father 


of criticism) teaches morality, not by dull and senten 
tious maxims not by reciting historically what Arw 
tides achieved or suffered but by the unbounded aid 
of allegory and imitation, more surely effects its pur 
poses. To poetry we turn as a relief from jarring 
interest* the selfish coldness and the heartless caprice 
of the world. In it we expect the fairest examples of 
virtue and the noblest deeds of heroism, to cherish 
loftiness of purpose, and elevate to a kindred magna 
nimity. \Ve seek it to exalt, not degrade, the dignity 
of our nature, to incite to emulation by exhibiting the 
virtues, not urge to vice, by unrolling the dark scroll 
of the iniquities of our species. It is the office of the 
bard, to wean us from our disgust of life to reconcile 
us to our fellows to exalt and reinstate fallen mortali 
tyto fill us with higher hopes and aspirations and call 
up the master passions of the soul in all their majesty. 

Amid all the bufferings of the world and the cold 
blights of niggard fortune, there is a portion of the 
human mind (divinie particula mentis) which can call 
up its own resources; and, with misfortunes howling 
around it, can disperse the shadows of besetting care, 
and create an elysium, equalled only by that, which 
succeeds the clammy touch of indiscriminating death. 

There are moments of hallowed beatitude, when the 
soul, abstracted from the wants and woes, which pin 
it down to earth, can wander from the enjoyment of 
lower pleasures, and mount, with the energy of the 
kinofly eagle, where nought is over it but the clear 
blue sky, and the light, fleecy clouds which sweep 
along the horizon. There are moments, in which, 
though "short and far between," it shakes off its greater 
incumbrances, and forgetting awhile the dull reality of 
life, lives but to ethcrial inspirations it meets the 
long lost loved ones of childhood, when it partakes of 
a nobler nature, and commingles with purer and holier 
aspirations of an ideal existence. 


"Thus at length 

Endowed with all that nature can bestow, 
The child of fancy oft in silence bends 
O er those mixed treasures of his pregnant breast 
With conscious pride. AKENSIDE, B. III. 

There is a creative energy whieh revels in all the 
beauty of the landscape which transforms the "idle 
desert" of Arabia into the fertile v alleys of Languedoc 
where the brook winds its murmuring course o er its 
pebbly bed, and the rushing torrent thunders impetu 
ous bearing every thing before it; the sunny dell is 
alive with its humming multitude, and the cloud-capped 
summit of the frosted mountain frowns in majestic gran 
deur. At such moments the soul wanders to the blue 
vault of Heaven, and silently offers up the ejaculation 
of Akenside: 

"Not content 

With every food of life to nourish man 
By kind illusions of the wandering sens*, 
Thou maV st all Nature beauty to hi eye. 
Or music to hij ear!" 


Not to draw too much of our mood and its philoso 
phy, wise or unwise, from the Psalmist -still less to in 
dulge in those stale truisms which make up the bur 
den of complaint in most essays we arc hourly com 
pelled, nevertheless, as an unavoidable result of our 
experience, to muse upon the vicissitude*, the uncer 
tainties, or, rather, we should gay, the too serious cer 
tainties of life. "Man that is born of woman/ d c. 
This is the pitch note of all moral meditation, and we say 
to ourselves, a thousand times a day, with something of 
the gloomy fatality of Mohammed, "it is decreed" 
sorrow, complaint, misgiving, pain and many regrets, 

142 UfcMAlNa MOUALt 

fill aitd disfigure each page in the life of man. And if 
his difficulties be neither oppressive nor positive, the 
9tegutive pregnant, as the lawyers barbarously phrase 
it, is at hand, and something is always wanting to the 
completion of his happiness. There is always some 
step tinlakon, and which he cannot take, tp .vards his 
attainment of that vision of promises, that proposed 
elevation, from which he may look down, with untroub 
led spirit, upon those clouds and that tempest, with 
%vhic!i he may once have struggled, but from the. as 
saults of which, he. has made his escape. The ideal is 
unattainable, and he feels it the illusion is still such, 
and not for him. until, the fc eomiugof tliat perfect day/ 
lie learnt that all is vanity, and gives up the pursuit. 
In doing so he either becomes happier or less happy- 
he certainly does not remain where he was. 

Kut though idle to look and hope for pel -feet felicity 
as a condition of the human lot, it is something worse 
than idle, to yield up to the despondency which conies 
with this conviction. Though unalloyed bliss belonged 
not to I lie angels, it dots not follow that unalloyed mise 
ry, or misery in any degree, must, unless we so will it. 
be the destiny of man! We believe who does not?--- 
that we were intended by the Creator for happiness, as 
well here as hereafter in degree, at least, if not un 
qualifiedly. There can be little doubt that the means 
of such an acquisition are chiefly in onr own hands; 
still less should there exist a doubt as to the propriety 
of employing them. 

Youth is the season for luxuriant hope*, triumph 
ant anticipations, and all that gay company of warm 
desires, and fruitful and flower- invested fancies. These 
are blighted, battled, set at nought, and defrauded of 
their promise, less by the decreethe stern and stub 
born fate, than themselves, than ourselves. Were 
our views directed arightdid we send our hopes on 
tho proper path, and check their frequent extrava 
gancies, would this be the case? Would our life bo 


the long lesson of regret, of madness, of misery, that 
we sometimes find itthat we, almost invariably make 
it? * No---it would not. The Creator lias heen too 
much the Crcutnrc of the Crcnftfrr: lias been too 
mindful of man* to leave us in doubt as to the Fitting 

In youth we are too prone to couple our ideas of 
happiness with dreams of glory, ambition, and tlic 
great name, ---the attainment of which, we at the same* 
time entirely forget, depends quite as much upon the 
disposition of our neighbors as upon lite doings of our 
selves. Apart from this faet, the desire itself is that 
of the boy-bauble the gold and the glitter---atid---lwt 
why speak at all of this strong panting for the breath 
the uproar and hii7?a of the populace! 

Th-j ambitious man is the merest slaveand does 
his drudgery under the fo*h of a most tyrannical anxiety. 
Now scourged and now caressed, his existence is always 
divided, and he alternates between the two extremes 
of pampering promises* and the deepest prostration. 
lie rises, it is true but then he^ falls, as certainly. 
lie wins the fruit perhaps, for which he has been all 
his life climbing busily, heedless of the thorny branches, 
which tear and torment him; ami like those of the 
Dead Sea, they turn to ashes on hi.s iips. 

Wealth is the key to happiness, in the imagining 
of another, and, perhaps, a much larger class. The 
auri sacra famrs, is the true jewel, the sine (j\i/nwn 
in the search after the imperial mistress, whose cheeks 
are flowers of perennial bloom. They overlook an 
other text or more, which the sacred volume 
That melancholy morality 

"Man \vanta but little here below, 
"Nor wants that litlc long/ 

is entirely disregarded and they go on laying up the 
grain in mountain masses, uncomcious that the worm is 
ail the while making fearful haYoc in the granary. 


There U another place, in which treasure* art to be 
laid, where y it is said, the worm comes not, and, 
through the security of whieh, thieves never break. 
The instability and insecurity of earthly possessions, is, 
however, a lesson of human wisdom common, dull 
matter-of-fact, daily experience, and needs not holy 
writ for its enforcement. The same experience would 
speak of content, if men would hear; but this person 
age has too little in her appearance that is attractive: 

She comes too meanly dressed to win our smile, 
And calls herself Content; an humble name! 
Our flame i* transport, and content our scorn." 

It is not merely the privilegeit is the distinguish 
ing characteristic of man, to look forward into futurity, 
and consider his actions, in relation, not only to their 
immediate, but to their remote consequences. If, 
therefore, we desire to retain the rights of the rational 
creature, we must use them in reference to tnis survey; 
and take due note of its teachings. This will have a 
wonderful effect, in taking off the thousand scales which 
obscure and impair the mental vision. We shall then, 
possibly, be able to ascertain the genuine from the de 
ceptive, happiness the substance from the shadow 
the chaste from the impure. It sometimes occurs, in 
matters of reason, as in those of sense, that, what to the 
superficial examination would seem wise and valuable, 
a closer inspection makes out to be vain and worthless. 
To the eye some fruit wear the most delicious sem 
blance, which are sour to the taste; and, in the pursuit 
of happiness, many have learned with Cowper, to ex* 

"I have sought thee in splendor and dress 
In the regions of pleasure and taste; 

I have sought thee and seem d to possess, 
But have found thee a vision at last." 

"Defend me, therefore," says the same amiable moral 
ist, "from reveries so airy. From the toil of dropping 

REMAINS - M01IA1,. 1)5 

buckets into empty wells; and growing old in drawing 
nothingup." Well might he pray in this manner, and 
yet not touch the subject. Becnuse he was unsuccess 
fulbecause, lie sought for water where water was 
none because he was disappointed in his search for 
flowers in a desert. we are not to infer the utter ami 
final departure of happiness from the earth. It i* not 
because she is unattainable, that she has not been found: 
bnt she is so liable to be mistaken for her neighbours, 
or rather, they for her, th;it no one need wonder that 
thousands perish in the wilderness lamenting that she is 
as far off as ever. We scarcely concur with the Poet 
of the *Task. who thus i^ivts up the fasti 

"No longer I follow a sound 

No longer a dream I pursue; 
Oh, Happiness, not to be fo;iml, 

Unattainable treasure, 9dicu!* 


-- "Quod peti* hie et, 
- animus si t non deficet a*qun." HORACE. 

There is no subject in Ethics in the investigation of 
\vhich the efforts of the Philanthropist have been more 
unceasing, and the instructions of the Philosopher more 
nil wearied, (and less regarded) than the constituent 
principle of Happiness. There are few authors, how 
ever inconsistent it may be with the main design of 
their works, who can refrain from finding some corner 
in which they may express sentiments concerning this 
universal desideratum; and, amid this vast variety of 
opinion, it may appear superfluous, for one to whom 
Nature has exercised so little of her wonted liberality, 
to lift up his voice in the general uproar. But if we 
estimate the importance of an object by the magnitude 
of its results, every candid mind will perceive the right, 

19 V 


nay obligation, that our "being** end and aim, 5 be 
thoroughly considered by every rank of intellect. We 
no sooner arrive at the enjoyment of our senses, and 
feel ourselves susceptible of pleasure and of nain, than 
we eagerly strive after felicity in one or other of its 
different, and totally incompatible forms. 

Few, if any, can arrive at that "altitude animi," 
that calm, minified state of mind, which was the pecu 
liar, though not less empty, boast of the Stoics. The 
h iman heart can never be rendered inaccessible to the 
approach of misery. Philosophy in vain plunges it into 
the stream of wisdom: there will always remain some 
part (like the vulnerable heel of Achilles) obnoxious 
to the shafts of disappointment, The disposition of 
man can never be entirely divested of the prejudices 
and peculiarities of his nature, or rcndi-ivd superior to 
the little troubles ant) inconveniences of life, and, of eon- 
M-qucnce, he can never partake of entire sublunary bea 
titude. Hut tho unalloyed bliss belong not to angels, it 
\vouM not prove that misery W:LS intended for man; and 
the desire of attaining it should be infinitely strengthen 
ed by the hitherto unexplored, but (to me.) not less evi 
dent, truth, that he who is happy on earth, will be happy 
in heaven. Man as I before* intimated, cannot enjo\ 
uninterrupted tranqnility, nor- be entirely exempt from 
those crosses and calamities which are the eommon lot 
of every one: "Nemo sine vitiis nascitur. optimns ilN 
cst <jui minimi* urgetur." He must counteract those 
obliquities of temper, and oppose those innate seeds of 
vice, which must either flourish or die. In the pur 
suit of happiness there is no error more universal, more 
injurant* or more deceiving than delay. Notwithstan 
ding the instruction of Philosopher*, the injunction of 
reason and the command of Heaven, the spirit of pro 
crastination prevails to a greater or less extent in every 
human breast. Few live so as to give themselves rea 
sonable satisfaction, but all intend to reform at some 
future period. The gay votaries of fashion who use 


life as a holiday, which they have only to enjoy, in 
dulge a distant thought of using time for some valuable 
end. The sensualist, ahsorbed in the gratification of 
his passions, MM likewise some vague idea of living as a 
rational being. The robber, too, in his moments of re 
tirement, feels some slight sense of hitherto neglected 
virtue, and entirlains some remote thought of reforma 
tion. But it is in their moments of reflection only, and 
the slight impression passes away as the breeze, which 
leaves no trace on the bosom of the dec]). They con 
tinue delaying Muir r-chcmcsof reformation, and indul 
ging their propensities, until in pL-etore irgro nascun- 
tur domini" their passions play the tyrant in their 
breasts, from long habit they become incurable, and the 
wretched victims sink into Lie most disgraceful inacti 
vity. "He (says Martial) who has not courage to live 
well to-day, will be less qualified to do so to-morrow." 
-Next day the fatal precedent will plead,- and day 
after day, and year after year, the same destructive 
course will be pursued. But how easily might this 
evil be avoided? How many hours of sad contrition 
might man escape by checking his passions before they 
acquire strength. All acknowledge the truth of this 
maxim, "vcnienti occurete morbo:" they are ready* 
Hay it is impossible to prevent them, to guard against 
the approach of disc^e, poverty, or any thing that 
may lessen their pleasure in life: but how few look to 
their future welfare; how few regard this transitory 
scene, Or cast a thought beyond their present state! 
Follow but the injunction "obsta principiis" and you 
will be free from every dangerous crime. Unaided by 
the authority of Scripture, who can doubt that as "one 
spark can fire a city," so will one vice inflame a thou 
sand? As self evident as, that every thing must have 
* beginning, is the fact that if the foundation is over 
thrown the superstructure can never advance. 

No one is so ignorant as not to know what is richt. 
all require frequent admonition, else, disused to th 


voice of virtue, we forget an obligation which we all 
universally acknowledge. We wander from the right 
path, mid are influenced hy the voice of the multitude. 
Our pleasures are bounded by the present, we look not 
forward to futurity, andanpear to forget that we are to 
battle an -eternal niirht/ 

isothingismnre destructive to real and solid content, 
than the visionary creations of entlu siastic child uxxl. 
The wild sketches of youth may for a w iuie amuse, but 
cannot satisfy. In the fairy moments of imagination 
we lool; forward with rapture upon a gilded landscape. 
Wo regale our eyes with the most beautiful flowers, 
heedless of the thorns which lurk beneath them. We 
cherish luxuriant hopes, which are inevitably blasted 
by dull reality. Hut were our views directed aright, 
we should not be thus obnoxious to disappointment. 
We often connect with our ideas of happiness, the gay 
but empty tinsel of the car of fame. We remember 
not that transient is the vision of terrestrial greatness: 
the "palma nohilis," etc. fiivs our enthusiastic spirits, 
nnd we eagerly strive after the "whittling of a name." 
Wealth, too, finds its thousand votaries, who, the dic 
tates of Reason, of Nature, and of (lod to the contrary 
notwithstanding, place their whole enjoyment in this 
Minimum honum of society. Disregarding the wants 
of their fellow mortals, heedless of the rewards of futu 
rity, absorbed in love of riches, they live in continual 
apprehension, and arc unable to enjoy that of which 
they are in constant dread of IK ing deprived. Hut far. 
the greater portion of mankind are acknowledged pro 
selytes of pleasure Pleasures, of one soil or other 
olJ haviiig the name, few the essentials. AH highly 
valued, and all, more or less worthless, to all a truth of 
early realization* Thus in th-> purs iit of happiness, 
many, allured by the fanciful dHhrhts of worldly plea- 
SMIVS are forced in their bitter moments to exclaim "It 
is all barren!" We s*e many apparently happy, 
whose countenances glisten with pretended joy, but 


could we penetrate tlieir hearts we would sec nought hut 
blighted hopes, corroding care and undermining soli 
citude. What then constitutes felicity? The longer 
we reflect the firmer will be our conviction that "vir 
tue is man s highest interest/ What are the pleasures 
of the sensualist! The mo ncntary gratification of a 
bestial appetite and a never dying llame consuming his 
body. He drowns reflection fora while, hut substitutes 
a thorn which forever rankles in his bosom. He ban 
ishes remembrance of his folly in oblivious wine, but 
gains for his ultimate portion disease* anxiety and uni 
versal scorn. And what is the boasted felicity of the 
unprincipled voluptuary? 

The seducer of innocence, the cries of the injured 
haunt forever IMS imagi nation. The summit of enjoy 
ment scarcely attained, happiness dies on the altar so 
lately erected. Reflection brings satiety, and, after the 
wild delirium of passion past, nought remains but the 
gloomy truth that misplaced confidence and undeserved 
affection have fallen irrevocably beneath his ruflian grasp. 
What is the result of malice, revenge and envy? Do 
they not invariably produce Fir^ilar feelings against 
those wlo cherish diem, and disquiet, despair and the 
distrust of all? The fears of the impious attend them 
through life; the dread of just retribution, the conscious 
ness of crime, and the horror of death embitters all 
their enjoyment. Gloomy, unfeeling and morose the\ 
know not the tranquil joys of life. b;it drag out a miser 
able existence in continual apprehension. And on the 
contrary, what are the bright glories of religion? 
cleansing the moral atmosphere, they open the mind 
to the pleasures of nature, of benevolence and of 
cheerfulness. At peace with the world, and looking 
with serenity upon the inevitable grave, they exult in 
anticipated felicity? and sure of ultimate enjoyment in 
the delights of paradise, life glides on like the clear 
current of a limpid stream, with not a clog to ruffle its 
surface, OP stain to disfigure its purity. It is not then 


because happiness is unattainable, that so many are un 
happy. To enjoy life we must wish for those plea* 
wires only, which result from the exercise of reason 
and virtue. <k Non omnia possumus omnes;* all can 
not be distinguished professional or mechanical charac 
ters, but all may be good and happy. Let not the 
cavils of the sceptical the scorn of the vitiated, or the 
dcsjiuir of the miserable transport us from our real inte- 
terest, and convince us that man was born for misery. 
Felicity is well worth the search, and whoever unhesi 
tatingly directs his efforts aright will surely find it; be 
the issue what it may he will have the satisfaction of 
faiiing when to succeed was impossible. But there is 
no danger of failure. Within ourselves is placed the 
power and upon us it depends to employ it. It is pe 
culiar to no clime, it is indigenous to no people. 

It may be found in cities abounding in men; it 
may be found in the icy regions of Kamschatka, and 
in the scorching heats of Lybia; in the fertile vallies 
of Languedoc, and the "idle desert" of Arabia. 


A leading article in one of the late numbers of the 
Southern Review, is devoted to a strict consideratiorf 
of the heartless system of that great modern reformer, 
Jeremy Bentham; the author of which takes ground in 
this survey, from which the followers of Rochefoucault. 
Godwin and Mandeville, will find itdiflicnlt to dislodge 
him. By a thorough acquaintance with the human 
heart and irresistible appeals to the deep-buried springs 
of feeling, he proves, beyond a rational doubt, that mo 
ral approbation is part of our natural constitution, and 
that we can with no more truth deny its existence, than 
that of the laws by which the revolution of the earth i 


governed. We can as easily doubt the operation of 
contrary tendencies, centripetal and centrifugal, in 
the solar system, as that innate law, which attaches our 
approbation to virtue, and withdraws it from vice. 

We would willingly give an analysis of this beauti 
ful essay which should be in every student s hand 
but must be contented for the present with a mere re 
ference vide pac;cs 2K6-^9O-29:V-2 ( .)6 where the 
tottering and incongruous fabric of utility is shaken to 
its foundation. To the masterly illustrations of our re 
viewer we will add our own general opinion, forming a 
skeleton view of the subject, not, perhaps, inconsistent 
with his deductions. 

Philosophy is the knowledge of ourselves, and the 
great maxim of Solon constitutes its strict and proper 
boundary. That it may, in a lax and gcncml sense be 
defined, the basis of nil science, and, indeed, of every 
thing in which reason takes part, is too well understood 
here to be insisted upon: but its first essential and ulti 
mate end and aim is the distinction between moral good 
and evil the doctrine of the human heart. It teaches 
man to investigate, understand and improve his facul 
ties to be guided by, what Cicero calls the perfection 
of nature, the recta ratio to combat error, prejudice 
and education with the touchstone of reason, and in 
every manner extend the sphere of our intellectual en 
joyments. It leads him to scrutinize the peculiarities, 
motives and propensities of his nature; to apply to each 
its separate guide, foil and restraint, and press on in 
the undeviating path of rectitude to that "altitudo 
animi," which constitutes the true dignity, character 
and happiness of intellectual man, 

We have often thought that most of the disputes 
which agitate the world were occasioned merely by a 
diversity of opinion as regards terms, and that men 
often arrive at different conclusions because of this mis 
understanding. In those sciences which are founded 
upon universally accepted truths, and which exclude 


fallacious ft|)hist!-y, anil 
we perceive but inconsiderable dispute; and we are ii- 
clined to believe tbat it would not a little conduce to 
solve difficulties, disj>cl ambiguities, and bring our dis 
cussions tc an issue, it", in place of an endless and per 
plexing logomachy, we were to substituted few per 
spicuous and authenticated definitions as the basis of 
our investigation. "And lastly (says liacou,) "let us 
consider the false appearances that are imposed upon 
us by words, which are framed and applied according 
to the conceit ami capacities of the vulgar sort; and al 
though We think we govern our words and prescribe it 
well W ioyftffil/Hiii nt ntlgus, sen tinnlitiii itt aupte.n- 
1ex; * yet certain it is that words, as a Tartar s bo.v, do 
shoot back upon the understanding of the wisest* and 
mightily entangle and pervert the judgment. So it 
is almost necessary in all controversies and disputations 
to imitate the wisdom of the mathematicians in setting 
down in the very beginning* the definitions of Our words 
and terms, that others may know how we accept and 
understand them, and whether they concur with us or 
no. For it eometh to pass for want of this, that we are 
sure to end where we ought to have begun, which is 
in questions and differences about words/ If further 
corrobonttion of our opinion be required, we can give 
it from (if possible,) still more illustrious authority. I 
-am apt to imagine* (says Locke,) that, were the im 
perfections of language, as the instrument of knowledge. 
more thoroughly weighed, a great many of the contro 
versies that make such a noise in the world, would of 
themselves cease; and the way to knowledge, and per 
haps peace too, lie a great deal opener than it does.* 
Men disputing upon points misconceived through am 
biguity of terms, or perhaps (in fact) diametrically op 
posite, will inevitably arrive at different conclusions: 
but direct them 10 the same end concentrate their ef 
forts in a single focus direct their powers exclusively 
to one and the same conclusion, and leave them no sub- 


tertuge iii terms without any advocate but truth and 
the long-sought for goal will inevitably he gained on one 
hand, and conceded on thcother. THE MORAL SENSE 
accordingly, has been defined, the approbation or blame 
u.vardetl to us. by our h-jarts, as an action accords with, 
or deviates from llie line of rectitude previously deter 
mined by the aid of reason. To this definition then, 
we shall strictly confine our strictures, as being the 
idea we have conceived of the point in question, and 
which alone we purpose to establish. That the mind 
docs regard certain actions with approbation and others 
with abhorrence, we h.ive iwt with none sufficiently 
hardy to deny: but the feeling is ascribed to causes 
alien to the original constitution of our nature, and 
upon this point hangs the whole dispute. 

In the investigation following, we purpose to estab 
lish the following positions: 

That an approbation of right, and detestation of 
wrong, are totally distinct from reason (as their source:) 
and, consequently, that the moral sense cannot spring 
from education, habit, utility orany term, whatsoever, 
that may be used to denote those that arc commonly 
called the intellectual affections. 

That the love of virtue does not take its source in 
selfishness, or a view to our immediate or remote ad 

That it is a principle implanted in man from liis 
primeval formation, and can never be eradicated but 
by the most abandoned course of villainy. 

Man, though the lowest link in the chain of intelli 
gent being, presumes to arrogate to himself knowledge 
possessed by Deity alone, and to shape bis obedience 
to the dictates of divine will by his own feeble notions 
of expediency. Reason has been triumphantly pro 
nounced as the arbiter of our moral sentiments and the 
sole cause of the approbation which certain actions 
produce in the mind. That reason aids our moral 
sentiments by enabling us to discover the relation o f 



things, and the probable consequences of our actions. 
and thus indirectly influences our feelings, we art* by 
no means inclined to deny. But it only presents ob 
jects of love and hatred to a principle of love and 
hatred previously implanted in oi.:r system. To illus 
trate our proposition by a simile (which we have some 
where seen,) like a telescope, it shows us what was too 
distant to come within the sphere of our vision; but it 
does not alter vision itself. The best telescope could 
give no aid to the blind. If utility be the measure of 
virtue, it must be clearly and unerringly developed in 
the eyes of the agent and of him who approves the 
action in nr.other. Can this be the case? Can we sec 
throuHi lh- i oaseqnenceof onr I eeds? If the ultimate 
tendency of an action, through all its various winding) 
to \i< final effect, be not necessary: and if it be asserted 
tint a firm conviction of expediency on the part of the 
individual, constitutes a safe and sufficient criterion, it 
needs no eagle ken to discern it requires no prophet s 
inspiration to foivsee it is the plain dictate of common 
sense, that he rules of right will be as various and 
discordant, as the form and features of those who adopt 
them. Even philosophers, earnest in their pursuit 
after truth, have differed in the tendency and conse- 
qiK>nt propriety of certain deviations from the strict line 
of rectitude. And can we suppose that the mass of 
mankind, immersed in their pleasures, will hesitate to 
avail tbems Kes of this appeal to erring reason, and 
(imperceptibly controlled by their passions) persuade 
themselves of the perfect propriety of a course diame 
trically opposed to nature and utility! Will an action 
performed v/ith a view to utility by one man, be viewed 
with Approbation by another? Arc not the notions of 
mankind as various as their persons? Thus every one 
will create morality for himself, and the end of tbc 
scene, will be its almost entire abolition from society. 
Does the mother, who hazards death to save her sickly 
infant from the venom of the serpent, contemplate for a 


moment, before or during the act, the probable advan 
tage to accrue to society by the preservation of her 

"Prudens futuri tcinporis exitum 
Caliginosa noctc premit Deus, 
Hidulquc si mortal is ultra 
Fus trepidat. HORACE. 

"The ways of Heaven arc dark and intricate, 
Puzzled in mazes, and perplexed with errors; 
Our understanding traces them in vain, 
Lost and bewildered in the fruitless search, 
Nor sees with how much art the windings run, 
Nor where the regular confusion ends. 1 * AD. CATO 

Do we in the generous enthusiasm, with which we 
regard a noble action, check the pleasing sympathy to 
inquire if some collateral evil may not ensue? If utili 
ty be the occasion of our Applause, would not the har 
monious operations of our nature (distinct from their 
beneficent author) be dignified with the epithet virtu* 
ous? Would we not feel the same towards the daily 
revolution of the sun, as we do to the disinterested de- 
votion of the immortal Hampdcn, the intrepid resis 
tance of our revolutionists, or the dying faith of the 
tortured martyr? Who ever compared the emotions 
arising from the contemplation of the benefits of the 
press, with those excited by the character of a Catoj an 
Addison, a Melancthon, a Fenclon, or a Washington? 
*<A benevolent man and a steam engine, may be both 
instrumental to the happiness of society; and the quan 
tity of happiness produced by the unconscious machine 
may be greater, perhaps, than tbat produced by the 
living agent; but there is no imaginary increase or 
diminution of the utility of the one and of the other 
that can make the feelings with which we view them 
shadow into each other or correspond in any point of 
the scale." (BroWn, vol. iii.) If our opponent rejoin 
(as unsophisticated feeling prompts) that it is to utility 
in the actions of mitral agents, alooe to whioh appm- 


batiou is annexed, they concede the points they 
admit that mere usefulness is insufficient to win our 
applause and esteem, and that there must be united a 
capacity (or propensity) peculiar to voluntary moral 


An individual, prompted by his passions to pursue a 
certain line of conduct? makes reason the arbiter? and 
finds it inconsistent with ail established moral rule. If 
he check his propensity and obey reason, and there is 
no internal reward no approbation of the <mcns sibi 
conscia recti" where arc- we to find an inducement 
sufficiently strong to overcome on another occasion the 
impetuosity of his desires, and persuade him to a con 
formity to acknowledged obligation? There must be 
some controlling voice, when- we obey, and some warn 
ing monitor, when we deviate from the observance of 
known duty. Otherwise has man been cast upon the 
world by his Creator, prone to error the sport of 
adventitious circumstances, guided by his appetites, 
and with no stain]) of divine impress, no signet of pro 
vidence to warn his erring nature f*om vice, and coun 
teract the seeds of depravity, which all possess, and. 
which must either flourish or die? We trust, that we 
have sufficiently shaken the tottering, incongruous fab 
ric oi utility, to convince every candid mind of it* 
utter rottenness. We will, crt we dismiss this division 
of our subject, offer one illustration further (derived 
from the able professor of Metaphysics in South-Caro 
lina College) which will, we trust, carry instantaneous 
conviction to every wavering mind. If reason be the 
true source of the moral emotion if its strength be de 
rived from reflection if utility be its monitor, let us 
apply the theory, and nature will indignantly respond 
in our favor. A benefactor from whom we draw even 
thing even existence, itself, is in urgent want of our 
assistance to sustain life: beside him, struggling in the 
jaws of death? is a much more important individual. IT 
reason is to adjust the scale and declare the issue tin 


Lencfactor, the father, is declared the more insignifi 
cant member; the other, to whom we owe nothing, 
(save the universal milk of human kindness.) is the more 
useful citizen: and thus utility commands us to desert the 
expiring parent Mid fly to the rescue of the stranger? 
But does passive nature obey the mandate? Is the 
mind vacant to the unfeeling calculation"- Or dors she 
not spurn the narrov counsel, and obey the authority 
of a mightier dictate? 

Were all men: (says a beautiful writer, comment 
ing, we think, too mildly on the consequences of this 
system) **to measure their actions by utility, that varie 
ty of sentiments and passions, which at present renders 
human society so interesting: and like a happy combi 
nation of notes in music produces an enchanting har 
mony, must be reduced to the dull monotony of onr 
tranquil sentiment. Every man, it h true, would meet 
his neighbor, with the mild aspect of calm Philosophy, 
and with the placid smile of perfect benevolence: but 
no eye must be seen sparkling with rapture, or melting 
with tenderness; no tongue must utter words of kind 
ness which have not first been exactly measured in the 
scale of universal benevolence/ Hcason and feeling, 
then, are manifestly at variance. If we be the arbiter 
between these opponents, the election will be quickly 
made in favor of the latter, as original and always the 
same against the former, which is frequently clouded by 
artifice, obscured by sophistry, and shackled by the de 
mon, lucre. Whence arises the immeasurable differ 
ence between the morality of the ancient poets and 
philosophers? Tiic former we find pure and undefiled 
by sophistry: the latter tainted with prejudice, infect 
ed with love of gain deserting the imperishable to 
Kalon, for the miserable, transient policy of the to prc- 
l>on. The cause is obvious; in poetry, the offspring of 
feeling virtue flows warm and undefiled from the 
fountain of the heart; in philosophy men strive, "non 
sibi res, sod sew rebus aptare/ It is its futile boast to 

156 HEMAINS V10KAL. fc 

dive into the boundless arcana of nature, and in its du 
bious search, it adopts opinions upon mere speculation, 
without reference to facts. Frail reason then, so ob 
noxious to error, so seldom the test of truth "a bubble s 
gleam amid the boundless main," is not the criterion 
we adopt. We refer to ourselves, and where we find 
opinion universal in favor of nature we hesitate not to 
admit her decree. 



"Res Miiqtne lauili* et nrtis 

"Ingredior Kinrto* nusus rccludorc fontcs." 

VIRGIL, Geor. 2 v. 174. 

There has heen no period of the world so far as our 
Histories have made us familiar with its existence, so 
earnest in its exertions, so untiring in its efforts, so va 
rious in its objects, and so confident of success in their 
pursuit, as the Nineteenth Century. Ours; is truly, 
an extraordinary era. It looks back upon, and assents 
proudly its superiority over the past. It strains its vi 
sion through the dim vista of the future, and is compel 
led to predict, that it too, will in turn, be surpawed. 
Proud in its strength, it is still discriminating in its ex 
ultation conscious of its acquirements, it is not igno 
rant of the mighty vast yet to be acquired, and hitherto 
entirely unexplored. Never has the voice of reforma 
tion been so clear, so strong, so encouraging never 
the spirit of enterprise and enquiry, so alive and ac 
tive. Every stride taken by our age is one of improve 
ment of enlightened views- of diffusive intelligence. 
Knowledge whether Moral, Political or Literary is 
not now confined to one or a few favored nations. 
Science, no longer shut up in the monastery, has un- 
cowled her head, and waking from her "slumber of 
ages" has gone abroad on the mighty wing of her own 
energies, conquering and to conquer. Truth is awake, 
busy in unsealing the vision of human nature, and free 
ing its limbs from the shackles of antiquated institutions. 


Hence, aided by the unfettered intercourse which pre 
vails, arises the reciprocal influence, which nations 
exert upon ore another. No incident of moderate in 
terest can occur in the most insulated hamlet, without 
finding its way, with a rapidity almost incredible even 
now, into every portion of Christendom. Example 
provokes imitation and rival achievement incites toad- 
venture and emulation superior happiness or prospe 
rity, occasions invigorated and close inquiry, which is 
not allowed to cease, while the object of desire is unat- 
tained. In all this we trace the progress of that migh 
tiest of agencies known to our condition. the sleepless 
intellect the soaring mind. The empire of reason 
has been extended from the contracted boundary of a 
(loshcn, to the widest extent of human civili/ation. 
The a r is i oc racy of talent is gradually expanding into 
a republic no longer swayed by an autocrat, but gui 
ded and governed by a band of legislators, equally in 
terested with those for whom they provide, in its just 

Such are the favorable aspects, which at a first glance 
the age puts on to the eye. These features, however, 
have their irregularities and defects; and we are con 
strained, while lauding the enterprise of our era, and 
contemning that dissonant and senseless outcry against 
innovation so frequent in the mouths of those wedded 
to old errors to regret that extravagance has mingled 
with endeavour, and a senseless and sounding declama 
tion, concerning and in behalf of an unreal and indefi 
nable optimism, has silenced, in some respects, the ar 
guments and exhortations of sober and calculating truth. 
While admitting with Locke, that "we are born with 
faculties capable of almost any thing that our minds 
are susceptible of incredible expansion, and possess an 
elastic power equal to heights, hitherto unattempted. 
we must still insist that there is much that we may not 
know, and difficulties that may not be overcome. 
There are limits to the most excursive intellect, and 

REMAINS, &C. 161 

utterly vain, therefore, is all the cant and declamation 
which we hear, about progressive and endless improve 
ment and future -perfectibility. The world exists, not 
for the past or for the futuivi hut for the present: and 
he who seeks that life may he made available, nor utter 
ly consumed and wasted in profitless speculations, 
should legislate and think for the living, misled by no 
dreaming fancies of ideal infallibility. \Vc should* not 
thus dwell upon this misplaced exertion and. did they 
not impair the proper labours of others, should leave 
these dreamers to the quiet of their own Utopia. Not 
satisfied, however, with working to the injury, alike, of 
the presi-nt and the future, these Philosophers of a 
golden age yet to come, have mingled with their fancies, 
denunciations as bitter as unfounded, of the achieve 
ments of the past. Not content with the assumed pri 
vilege of erecting a fanciful system for after times, they 
must raze and overthrow all the fine structures left us 
by preceding ages. To this propensity of our day 
this overweening spirit of reformation is to be attri 
buted the ungracious effort, so frequently of late made, 
to depreciate and diminish the value of those arts, and 
that literature, left us by our great progenitors and be 
nefactors the ancients. Our faith is high, however, 
and remains unshaken; and, though reluctantly, we op 
pose the irreverent and rash spirit of the age, with the 
hope that the cause we espouse, be not identified with 
the feebleness or deficiency of the advocate. 

When an eminent jurist of the day assumes the task 
of decrying the ancients, making the notable discovery 
that Homer is superficial, Virgil a plagiarist, Demos 
thenes a brawler, and Cicero only a spurious rhetori 
cian though backed by the carping of Zoilus, and 
the witty absurdities ef Mons. Perrault, he proves 
himself too far behind the time, by a couple of thou 
sand years. The capacities of such writers, stamped 
by the almost universal applause of the world, rest 
wpon a foundation too firm to be very readily over- 


thrown by such assailants. The public ta*te has long 
since passed the sentence which after ages luive all de 
lighted to confirm and .sanction; and he who would 
boldly undertake a change on this matter, must first 
enter upon the somewhat difficult labor of remodelling, 
not sciences, nor arts, nor language, but human nature 

The study of what is left us of ancient lore large 
and yet limited a* it is, has been, and always must be 
esteemed an essential part -of modern education, and 
the acquisition of its stores, the ultimatum of successful 
mental inquiry. Nor has the value of the pursuit, or 
the accomplishment of its object, been too highly esti 
mated. Its utility, however, can be fully appreciated 
only by those who have experienced its influence. It 
may, indeed, excite the surprise of ignorance, paying 
veneration to what is incomprehensible, or the splenetic 
sneers of envy, affecting to despise what it will not sec L 
to acquire and docs not understand."!" There is a mu- 

*The battle between the Ancient* and Moderns (ia)ing aside the early con 
tention between the pupil of the irritable 1*0!) crated, nptly My led "The Rhe 
torical Dog," and Ins opponent Vitruvia; and the more recent triul of 
strength between Sir \V. Temple, Swift, Hoileau and Mad. Dacier on the 
one hand, and Wotton, Voltaire aod 1 errault on the other, has been lately 
brought (ai we think) to a decisive result by the united action of Messr*. Ad 
ams, Read, and the redoubled champion of the Southern Review, M -. (irimke. 
In justice to the beautiful (though us we believe, visionary) speculations of th* 
latter individual, we must admit, that if any thing could give success to hi* 
mistaken (though philanthropic) \icws, hu i-loqucM ami acute enforcement of 
tin-in | 3 well calculated to command it. 

Si Pergama de.itra 

Defendi possent, etiaru hac defensa fuinsent." VIRUIL. 

i\Ve have frequently heard well-meaning meu astvt that the 1 agan My 
thology, and the loose fable* accompanying it, tended to seduce the under 
standing and corrupt the heart; but have, always*, placed the objection to its 
proper account, passing it by as unworthy of serious refutation. The point 
has however, been forced upon our notice, by the disclosure of the same opin 
ion from more responsible sources. That the idolatrous fables of the Olym 
pian and his fellow divinities (which no enlightened ancient believed, oru.-vi 
for any purpose, save to impose upon the infatuated mob) should militate 
against the true belief, u an apprehension so childwh, that we c.-.n scarcel) 
credit, (save from evidence indubitable) that it could ever have been serious 
ly indulged. We can liken it to nothing;, but the infinitely ridiculous dread of 
Je*n Jaques Rousseau against the unholy influence of fables on the infunt 
Diind We do not deny, that passages (and many too) of immoral tendency 
pervade the writers ( antiquity; wo regret lh^ fart, and by no means intend to 


t.ial connection and dcpendance between the sciences; 
-wd the improvements which are made in one branch of 
human knowledge, necessarily shed light upon another 
always furnish us with increased incentives to inquiry, 
and often illnminnte a new path of investigation which 
leads to the most important results. We are far from 
a-lvocating a promiscuous course of application. TV) 
limit the immediate sphere of our ellbrts to chain 
down the mind to the subject matter before it to cling 
sedulously, and only, to our peculiar occupation, is the 
only en-tain security for success and distinction. It is 
however, by no means at variance with the most devo 
ted assiduity, to pursue the various labours of science, 
and acquire a, general knowledge of life and letters, 
whereby the mind becomes expanded, and is in this- 
way pivsrt vc l from the contraction it would necessari 
ly undergo, from any one exclusive pursuit.* But 
even were it otherwise ndinitting that the time bes 
towed upon the classics r/fV (as it certainly does not) 
detract from professional eminence or emolument who 
is there, who would estimate the value of enlarged in- 
tcllc^t ial vision by a degrading comparison with the 
/>/.? and minus of worldly and pecuniary advantages? 

Jrffiid tlio practice. Hut we declaim he % isionary chcmc of reacting all tint 
may be tinctured with evil. But to meet the objection more openly, we do not 
be-iute to say, tint in even species of writing, which corrupt* the principle*, by 
Appealing to the pistons, nnd charming the voluptuous imagination, 
THK MODERNS have ftr exceeded thpir forefather*. A n.igarioiH writer 
(TEMPLE) has cornpircd ancient indelicacy to n naked child, modern to a 
robed courtezan. We do not agree with him in the point* of hi* likencv. 
though we coincide in or conclusion*. Ancient indelicacy w of *o grow*, un- 
blmhmg. a character, that its effect U considerably loaned by the digu*t. 
\vhch it produces in every mind, not utterly chared hy depravity; wh*rta 
their rocceH<on > have artfully enveloped their filth with an encaging pxirrior. 
and more efficaciously, enticed to vice, by thejuemblance of purity. We will 
not exemplify our opinion, certain that instance*, corroborating oar assertion, 
will readily occur to every mind. 

*"There M no profession or pnrrait, which ha not habits peculiar to it*Hf; 
ind which does not leave some pmver* of the mind dormant," AT. Stttr- 
art i Elfmtntf, rol. 1, p. 20-21. The whole pawoge u to appropriate to 
oar pvrpOM, that, did oar limits permit, we would willingly transcribe it at 
large- In anot^r place th^ beaalifal writer to markedly coincides with on in 
the opinion we have advanced, than we cannot forbear adducing the wn 
f bin name, the w*mv* here, aJso be content with a sunple rrfereno*. 

164 KEM.UNS LirCHAUY, &C. 

The end of all tuition, is, to employ the language of tltf 
inspired Yenusiau "facere et tttrvare bcatox* <ti> 
make men happy and to keep them so." It is not the 
aim of the enlightened intellect to become a lawyer, or 
a divine or physician, for the mere purpose of gain, but 
to exalt the Understanding, to extend the sphere of use 
fulness and enjoyment, to give a wider field of survey 
to the free vision, and ifi every variety of way, to mul 
tiply the sources of all legitimate pleasures. 

The first advantage, accruing from the pursuit of 
classical learning, is the mental method and discipline 
which it produces, and .the acute and enlarged tone of 
mind which it awakens and engenders. To analyze 
the syntactical construction and elucidate the idea of 
an author thence, in the perusal of the highest order 
of writers, to trace an allusion, and decide upon and 
determine its fitness display and illustrate its proprie 
ty, or point out its defects to pursue the bearings 
and ascertain the accuracy of a Metaphor to trace the 
analogy of languages their peculiar excellencies and 
defects, and by an accurate comparison and contrast of 
leading and different writers, determine, not their com 
parative merits, simply, and the gradual advancement 
of literature, but those true standards, by which all 
who come after arc to be guided oiul restrained: these 
all fall within the control arid scope, and their conside 
ration make up the offices and advantages of the classi 
eal education. That the memory a faculty beyond 
all others dependant upon its own exercise and" fre 
quent practice, is in great measure created; and un 
doubtedly strengthened, by the repetitions necessar) 
ill the acquisition of a language, admits neither of de 
nial or dispute. Imagination, the offspring of accumu 
lated ideas, tastefully arranged, is peculiarly indebted 
for many of her choicest stores to the lore of ancient 
times, not readily obtained elsewhere and the guide 
for the skilful combination of which (a faculty not less 
Essential than the material itself,) she also owes to the 


same prolific source. Our taste is a faculty susceptible 
of almost infinite improvement, and the perusal of the 
polished models of composition, transmitted by the 
scholars of antiquity, established those accurate stand 
ards of judgment that unerring criticism for the pro 
per perception of beauties, which cannot, through any 
other medium be obtained, and which cannot readily 
be lost or forgotten. The acquisition of the classics is 
the best nay, the only sure foundation, for the study 
of the modern languages. An acquaintance with one 
grammar immeasurably facilitates our acquaintance with 
another. What theory would induce us to recognize 
as the fact, actual experiment has demonstrated to be 
true; and the student who has once mastered Greek and 
Latin, progresses in all the languages of modern Europe, 
with an ease and rapidity, which one. devoid of these 
advantages, in vain labours to rival. We pass by the 
minor poiht, that, to the mere English scholar, innume 
rable terms of science, the correct knowledge of which 
is almost essential to the acquisition of an art, must re 
main either wholly unintelligible or but partially Un 
derstood: and the fact, which, however important, 
need not here be dwelt upon, that learning has flourish 
ed in different countries only as classical science has 
been cultivated, would of itself be conclusive on thd 
subject, were other arguments wanting. But not only 
are the terms of science unintelligible without a know 
ledge of the classics but even in works intended mere 
ly for the amusement of the lighter mood and moment, 
occur numberless effusions, maxims, figures and fa 
bles, equally obscure and mysterious, wanting in thi<? 
talisman. From this fruitful source, the writer derives 
his richest treasures of illustratioti and embellishment; 
aad if the reader cannot follow him in his flights, the 
phasure, and with it the profit, is lost. We put the 
question strongly. Let a reader, who is acquainted 
with his vernacular tongue alone, approach the literary 
models of his own country, and. we hesitate not to say. 

166 BLXl.UNr* UTKKAiU, <lC. 

that he wHl find them so interwoven with classic lore 
so entirely the growth of ancient institutions, and so 
imbedded with their history, customs, etc. as to he un 
intelligible, or, at least, lose half their value, to one 
not deeply imbued with the spirit of antiquity. In 
proof of our assertion, we point to the witty page of 
Cowley, the learned text of Milton, and the lofty 
strains of Grey; to the wild luxuriance of Drydcn, the 
pregnant verse of Pope, and the playful humor of Cow- 
per. It has been averred, that the Ancients, in their 
best sketches of the most animating scenes, dwell too 
much upon the surface, without penetrating into the 
real and final source of our emotions that they pour- 
tray a picture, graphic indeed, and producing a striking 
i* fleet upon canvass, bat fail to fathom the recesses of 
the heart, and arouse its dccj>cst and loftiest feelings. 
From even our limited acquaintance with the great au 
thors of antiquity, and our consciousness of their deep- 
toned energy, we unhesitatingly deny the assertion. 
To one, indeed, enamoured of the dreamy mysticism 
of modern "appeals to the heart, v and the eternal cant 
about Human Nature 5 in most ostensible speculations 
into the mind, we believe it may appeal the fact. But 
to us, who estimate the power of a writer, by the im 
perceptible sway he exercises over our sympathies, 
rind who deem it the height of art, to conceal effort. thU 
apparent superficialness is the surest evidence of a tho 
rough intimacy with the deep buried springs of feeling. 
To show, beyond contradiction, the utter futility of this 
objection, we need only appeal to the examples of AN 
CIENT ELOQUENCE, woven in the loom of that celestial 
deity, whose smiles to the modern would have been but 
partial and transcient. If there be any art, which re 
quires a rigid analysis of the passions and prejudices of 
mankind, and a thorough insight into human character, 
it is undoubtedly that persuasive talent whose object it 
is to enlist the passions and win over the heart, even 
when the understanding remains unmoved. It has been 


affirmed by the purest of English writers,* that ever) 
intrinsic beauty, in the authors of one tongue, can be 
transferred uninjured to another. That the merge is 
perhaps, more consistent with facts that much of the 
original freshness and gloss of a literary -model depends 
upon idiomatic expression, adaptation of luiiguugc to 
subject or other ciir, which imitation (still less 
translation) cannot copy lias lv < u fully demonstrated 
by experience. Relying, however, on this flimsy t rule, 
and regardless of facts, these self- panegyrists assert, 
that those dreams of poetical feeling, which "brighten 
and brighten, as time steals away/* and those inimita 
ble exhortations^ which chained Senates in applause, 
may be, with all their attendant impressive energy, 
transferred to our vernacular tongue. <Tnir. ?? says 
Judge Story, they may, as one rcmcmhei* the face of 
a dead friend, by gathering up the broken fragments of 
his image: as one listens to a dream \\\ ice told: as 
on-j catches the roar of the ocean in the ripple of the 
rivulet: as one sees the blaze of noon, in the first 
glimmer of twilight/ 

It is all in vain that modern daring, and ill-advised 
innovation would depreciate and decry these ancient 
schools these mighty lesson crs. The monuments of 
these, themselves undying monarch*, stand, like the 
"rock of ages," unmoved and immoveable!< defying 

Addison. Spectator On Wit. thinks Additon not BO we. W- 
are di.poed rather to think with the wittiri.mii of one of the moderns, that 
"every thing suffer* by translation except a Bishop." 

tl think it i* now pretty generally conceded, that Addi*on, however deser 
vedly celebrated for his chaste, simple, and elegant style, in (save in a few 
instance*, as hi* Eitayg on Imagination and hi* nolts on Ovid) deplorably 
deficient in vigor and originality; (always excepting his delicate and purely 
attic humor, which peculiarly his own) and thai his best observation* are 
mere transcripts, which he has embellished and set in new lights (thereby, it 
true, giving them their value) by hu inimitable and enticing decoration*. 

$ We have ever been of opinion, that each M the character of ancient Ore- 
tiona, and that the GreeU and Romans either pomwed not (in their Oratori 
cal department) our clow, subdued, though calmly persuasive *tyle of *f cak 
ing; or that (with many ef their rxh*i tr*8*n ret > oblivion ha**h*drl it with 
his maatle. 


alike the ravages of time, the neglect of society, and 
the sneers and assaults of that yet more ungracious 
class, who having drawn their nutriment from her 
hreast would now deny their beneficent mother. We 
iire thoroughly convinced, that, to the study of the an 
cients is to be attributed whatever of polish and accuracy 
has been acquired by modern languages. By the pe 
rusal of classical models, referring to them as stand 
ards and endeavoring to imitate their beauties a por 
tion of the regularity and vigorous terseness of their 
style, has been transferred into the dialects of modem 

There is no country in the old world the land to 
which we are bound by the double tie of consanguinity 
and gratitude, to which we owe our arts, our civili 
zation and literature there is no short* from the bleak 
North to the sunny South from the IIyperl>orean 
with its endless snows to the smiling plains of Italy, 
where "the whole year in gay confusion lies 9 whose 
literature has not sprung up, flourished and been fos 
tered and matured by the all -pervading spirit of the 
ancients. This single fact superior to all human specu 
lations concerning the ix>ssihlc advance of mind, stands, 
Jike the rock of the Anchorite, in the sacred waters 
of the Ganges,! ba filing every cflbrt for its removal. J 

It cannot escape the notice of the most superficial observer, that of late, 
our lunguuge ha* degenerated from its formur strength and almost Attic sim 
plicity, intodilTuscnes-i, tinsel, und meretricious ornament. That, to its phi j- 
sophicul irregularity has xucceedexl uncontrolled innovation, and that there can 
scarcely be found an anomaly, which hatt not been introduced by writers of 
the last half century. It u the ^elf-evident dictate of the mcwt ordinary ob 
servation, that this result can be tracod to the neglect which the pure modeU 
of Antiquity have sustained in public estimation. 

tVide Sketches of India by a British officer. 

}To be convinced that the ancient models of writing are disregarded or for 
gotten, we need pnly turn to the .Novels, l>ay and Reviews of the day, th* 
productions too of men of no ordinary capacity. To answer the popular call 
tor novelty, our writers are stimulated to sacrifice simple diction, to intent* 
and abrupt phraseology; correct and chastened thought, to bold nnd daring 
sentiment, and cautious und mature composition, and laborious correction, to 
hasty and unequal etVorts resigning future fame for present notoriety and profit 
To this all absorbing thirst after public fuvor, which hurries our author- to 


It is not for mere pictures, to amuse the imagination 
and interest the feelings, that we refer to the ancients 
as the great masters of the heart. If, besides charming 
the fancy and taking captive the passions, they inspire 
a taste for true glory, strengthen the sentiments of vir 
tue, discipline the understanding, and fit us for inter 
course with our fellows, who will, for a moment, deny 
their extensive utility? What can more conduce to 
the ends enumerated, than the series of great actions in 
every species of heroism, every department of life, 
every trial, toil and difficulty, which brighten each 
page of the historian, and add an additional lustre to 
the lofty sentiments of the poet? Who, when he reads 
of the noJ)le disinterested ness of Cincinnatus. the gene 
rous contempt of wealth of Emilianus, and the herojc 
self-denial of Scipio, does not imbibe- a taste for solid 
glory, and real greatiiess, distinct from the fleeting 
brilliancy of Worldjy splendor? Who, on perusing the 
lofty response of the Roman matron, (Cornelia) who, 
when requested to display her jewels, exclaimed, poin 
ting to the noble sons of a generous sire, (Scipio) En! 
h t f r -ornanwnla wen sunt docs not, with emulation, 
hope th;vt the mothers of his country may have similar 
cause for triumph? Who fails to make resolutions of 
perseverance in the -path of undisguised virtue, when 
ne reads the inimitable- panegyric of Salhist upon Cato, 
ess<* (juam videri malcbat bonus; or to renew his exer 
tions in the cause of philanthropy, animated by the 
upbraiding self-reproach of the benevolent Titw? 
What bosom does not thrill with the loftiest patriotism, 
in contemplating the heroic, stubborn self-devotion of 
the Roman Patriot, the invicta men* Catonis? And 
whose heart does not bleed with -sympathy, whose 

wpaiw, in the rapidity of their productions, eren the aridity of their readers 
to pern*: their works, we attribute (what to 6*, appear* to be) the fate of by 
fr the greater part of the innumeiable works of the day viz temporary 
fame final oblivion. How many of the volume*, under which the prw* 
<Kily (roans, will be referred to, as standards of taste, style, or sentiment, i 
the 20th ceatwy? 


courage is not steeled in defence of his country rwheu 
viewing the mournful, though, instructive spectacle of 



great man, struggling willi the ftorms of fate, 
id nobly falling, with a falling state? 

But why multiply instances? Every page teems 
with instruction, every sentiment inculcates virtue, 
every character warns us from error, or incites to gen 
erous rivalry, in the cause of mankind! 

Yes! in that generous cause forever strong, 
The Patriot s virtue and the Poet s song, 
Still, i the tide of ages rolls away, 
Shall charm the world unconscious of decay. 

But not in literature* alone, do we acknowledge 
ourselves indebted and bow to the superiority of the an 
cients. We are still forced to gaze, with despairing 
admiration, on the animated forms depicted by the pen 
cil of \pelles, the living group, wrought by the crea 
tive chisel of Praxiteles, the mighty piles of the East, 
triumphant over time, and the venerable fragments of 
Grecian architecture, imposing even in their deso 

The orator of the present day, has none of those 
causes of thrilling excitement, which formerly awaken 
ed the loftiest energies of the mind, and elicited, from 
the treasury of genius, its deepest and brightest, and 
richest stores. He has not mankind for his audience 
high and permanent power for his incentive, and the 
applause of posterity to reverberate his fame. He ad 
dresses not the immutable springs of feeling, universal 
to the whole human famify. His topics revp|ve upon 

SVe have already said that we valued not classical lore as a mere source 
of pleasure to the Library. Cicero, somewhere in his rhetorical rales, (Ite 
Orator*) remark*, in pleading we quote the idea from memory though tl: 
lile:ul aiU be not directiy made ose of, yet the hearer immediately dwcoven 
whether the Ppeiker id jcquainted with them. It u thus that an intimacy with 
the "rent model* of antiquity though they ! e not once aUuded to, tinctures oor 
style, gives precision to our expression, elevate* our thoughts, and throws 
OTCi our productions a garb of freshness and chastened originality. 


principles, which change with a variation of policy, 
and fluctuate with that ever-varying Proteus public 
opinion. He gives not tone to his age, but bends to 
its mandate, and succumbs to its prejudices. In short, 
to such a degree has the social fabric been re-modeled, 
and the notions of its inhabitants altered, that the Ora 
tor of Greece and Rome bears little, if any, similitude 
to his successor of later date. Anciently, a gifted 
mind, appealing to the immutable laws of human na 
ture, linked by common interest to his audience they 
ministering to his power, and he flattering their national 
pride, exalting tneir imaginations, supplying stimu 
lants to arouse their feelings, and meshes, to take cap 
tive their passions wielded a sceptre over their spell 
bound understandings, which rendered their sympa 
thies submissive to his words, and moulded their actions 
to the dictates of his will. Far different is the situa 
tion of the modern rhetorician. Fancy with her po 
tent spell has now few materials to wreathe in her ma 
gic tie her dominion has yielded to a less visionary and 
more tangible idol, icttuth the divinity of modern 

But the Chief source of the inferiority of oratory, 
in modern days, and, especially, of the absence of the 
"verba ardmtia" which glowed on every page of the 
ancients, must be attributed to want of culture in its 
professors. Despite the unvarying testimony of all 
ac r cs _-the unerring dictate of universal experience, 
that success in this art, unaided by untiring persever 
ance, and determined effort, is unknown and notwith 
standing the importance, which, though less than for 
merly, is still attached to it the small attention it 
receives from him, who has staked upon it his fortunes, 
his eminence, nay his existence itself, is truly surpri 
sing. In any other pursuit, such indifference, or rash 
reliance upon natural talent would be esteemed an in 
fallible symptom of folly. The ancient aspirant for 
rhetorical renown, like his brother candidate, in Uir 


gladiatorial arena, or the festive games of Olympus, 
made every improvement in his powers, that unceasing 
practice could ensure nor risked the encounter, 
without repeated trials of his strength. Hi* devotion 
to hi profession was undivided, untiring no diver 
sity of pursuits, no complexity of husiness cou4d divert 
him from the ardent prosecution of the end, which was 
to make, or mar him upon which he had *Uked his 
hopes, his expectations, his all! 


We find a passage, relating to the present and past 
career of this great man, in the columns of a brother 
journalist, to which we must unhesitatingly put in our 
dissent. We quote the paragraph entire. 

"M. DC Chateauhriand, was said at the last accounts 
from France, to he engaged in writing a political pam 
phlet, against a project of some writer, for the banish 
ment of the Bourhons. The muse of this author is sus- 
ceptihte of inspiration, under every variety of dynasty 
air.! form of r^ile." He wrote political allegories un 
der the im perial rciBji me. His imagination became 
sublimated under the Bourboii domination, and he con- 
coetal poetical prose, in large quantities, 1 for the glori- 
ficption of that monarchy! Now, he" is not less adven 
turous under the sway of royalty, ift a republican 
guise. Bit genius draws reito it rcs out bf misfortunes, 
and materials for new creations fiDm the most opposite 
systems. M.*De Chitteauhriaud H-aYnystic-in |K)litics, 
aiul his mysticism is tinctured from his religion, which 
is spiritualized by lis imagination. Every thing is dis- 
tillei through this alembic. He forms his political 
system as he would combine the elements of his fictions. 
He would have principles of action that are too etheri- 
al and antiquated for our modern wants and appetite*. 


He would make the church the handmaid of autho 
rity, after making priests more than mortal men. He 
would blend in the offices and maxims of the state, the 
influences of piety and philosophy; hut his system is 
founded upon associations which are merely poetical 
which live on the. past which would revive faded re 
collections. The world looks now to the wr/W, and 
will sacrifice nothing to the romantic. The remem 
brances of by-gone periods, that call up images connec 
ted with martyrdoms for the church and feudal mo 
narchy, are passed irrevocably. It is the whole scope 
of M. Chateaubriand s genius to recall these -recollec 
tions and make them the hasis of the renewal of the po 
litical system, as he wishes it formed. The attempt is 
vain, hut one cannot but admire the consistency of that 
idealist, who thus under every change, clings to his 
cherished scheme, and embellishes it with so much ge 

The quotation above made, is from the pen of our 
very able and highly esteemed contemporary, Mr. 
Cardozo, of the Southern Patriot; but we do not think 
it marked by the temperate tone which uniformly cha 
racterizes him, and the rigid logic which he seldom 
fails to exact from others. His anathema strikes us. as 
too unsparing his denunciations as too bitter his cri 
tical touches as too general, vague, and inconclusive 
to be entirely well founded, even were there no facts 
that could be adduced in support of our objection. The 
name of Chateaubriand is one dear to literature, and 
may well excuse a word or two in its defence. That 
he did acquiesce under the different regimes, that, in a 
short space of time harassed his country, is certain: 
But that he ever went beyond acquiescence with the 
exception of a fewj iix d* esprit, and complimentary co 
pies of verses, which readily find shelter under the 
"poetica licentia" has never been substantiated. The 
charge of political servility is a common one against li 
terary men, and is about as well founded in this, as in 

174 MUI.UXS 1JTKWAKY, <i<: 

most oilier coses. We do not pretend to be familiar 
with the entire writings of M. De Chateaubriand, and, 
thence, perhaps, are unable to comprehend the full 
-force and apposite ness of some of the hard names whieU 
our contemporary has bestowed upon our author: for 
example "M. DC Chateaubriand is a mystic in poli 
tics: and his mysticism is tinctured from his religion, 
which is spiritualized by his imagination. Every thing 
is distilled through this alembic. He forms his politi 
cal system, as he would combine the elements of his fic 
tions. He would have principles of action, that are too 
etherial and sublimated for our modern wants and ap 
petites/ etc. But, as far as our acquaintance extends, 
we do not see their foundation in his published opinions, 
or recognized acts. During Chateaubriand s travels in 
I ak-stine, the Directory was abolished, Buonaparte 
raised to the summit of power, and commenced exerci 
sing it to "command not only the private acts, but the 
writings the conversation and the very thoughts of 
his subjects." It is true, that M. De Chateaubriand had 
himself praised the despot; but this was at a period 
when it was still excusable as to the "cal character of 
Buonaparte. None of the enlightened men of the day 
had penetration enough to prophecy, that the general 
of the expedition to Egypt would be the future oppo 
nent of the rights of humanitV, andM. De Chateaubri 
and has the further excuse, that when the statesmen 
and writers of France began to rival each other in 
meanness, and prostrate themselves at the foot of the 
throne, the author of the "Bfautits of Christianity"* 
ceased to "worship the unworthy idol of transient glo 
ry, recovered by degrees, and silently resumed the no 
ble attitude, which belonged to him. It was now the 
despot s turn to humble himself before the greatest wri 
ter of his empire, and he adopted measures to draw 
M. De Chateaubriand into the circle of his slaves, but 
in vain. All his power was ineffectual, when exerted 

Introdnction to tho Bounties of rhristianitjr. 


to shake the firm and noble soul of a single individual, 
who was no longer to he imposed upon by fictitious 
grandeur. lie was induced, however, by dint of per 
suasion to become a member of the first literary socie 
ty in France. 

It was necessary that he should make a public, oration 
on this occasion, and it was then, that he |>re pared his 
celebrated eulogium on Liberty. His intrepidity as 
tonished the institute and the Government. He was 
forbidden to deliver his oration, but was never after 
wards importuned for his support, which could palpa 
bly never be obtained afterwards.* From this period, 
his heart afllicted by the misfortunes of France, and the 
degradation which literature and the arts had expe 
rienced, was doomed to sigh in secret; but it experien 
ced consolation, when the tyrant began to lose his pow 
er of oppressing his country. Those who never could 
have displayed the courage of M. DC Chauteaubriand, 
thought proper to criticise his admirabh production 
of Buonajwirte and the Bourbons/ as being a work 
too strongly betray ing the feelings of the writer. They 
would perhaps have written in colder blood, because 
their eyes were then familiarized to the horrors they 
saw incessantly renewed. But can the soul of a great 
writer remain torpid, when liberty however fallacious 
be the gleam dawns upon his unfortunate country? 
Would Cicero and Demosthenes have remained torpid, 
if they had been called upon to oppose, the one an "in 
cendiary s crimes," and the other a tyrannical mon 
arch s artifices and ambition? Yet these are trite 
themes, to the schemes big with slaughter and rapine, 
which were discussed in the French Chamber, April, 

M. I)e Chateaubriand ww elected a member of the Jntittp in 1911, m 
place of Chenier, a poet well known for the part he took in the French Rrvo- 
loiKm. According to custom the recipient w* to deliver the euloginm of hi* 
predecewor; hut the fnend* of Chewier knowing how mnch the memory of 
the dreajied had to fear from the eloquence of Chuteaubriaod, ininted that 
the speech of the Utter should be communicated to the I nstitate before it WM 
delivered. It waa found little wilted to the memory of the deceased, or the 
of the age, aod Chataaahriaad wan, according, blackballed. 


1814. When the revolution was affected which den- 
pitc its horrid excesses should not he regretted, for, as 
Mr. Jefferson strongly observes, the "tree of liberty 
must every half century he watered with the blood of 
patriots" when all its solid advantages were reaped 
when innovation began to be mistaken for improvement, 
and reform to degenerate into extravagance the Po 
litical Reflections " of M. De Chateaubriand bore re 
ference only to the degree of rational, regulated liberty, 
that might he enjoyed under the mild, and then icform- 
*:d rule of the unfortunate Louis. 

H\s Bunt ties of Christianity" is an enduring.mon- 
um-eiit of bis sincerity of his truly pious fervor 
and exulted Christian eloquence. Infidelity has never 
been able to frame a plausible answer to it. He defin 
itively lays the question of the truths of Christianity 
on tfie shelf, not by unrolling the dusty parchments of 
the Fathers to pick up evidence, nor by consulting 
the mystical lore of the "divine doctors." He ex 
hibits in bold relief its manifold beauties passing by 
external evidences, he displays its attractive charms 
infers that it is excellent, not because it is of divine 
origin, but proves that it is of divine origin, because it 
is lovely and of god report, and every way worthy of 
the divinity, lie pursues with admirable success the 
plan of the imaginative reasoner. 

A poet in name, but a philosopher in- effect*, pursu 
ing the same end by different means, he veils what 
would have, otherwise, been harsh and displeasing in 
the enticing form and feature of amusement. The one 
appeals to reason alone, the other more forcibly addres 
ses the judgment, aided by the influence of the pas 

The former boldly commences its attack upon the 
principles: the latter, by a circuitous and skilful delay, 
first prepossesses the heart. The one, with the stern 
voice of truth alone, forces conviction: the other 
disdains not the assistance of harmonious measure. 

XS L1TEUARY, ic. 177 

captivating imaginary, and all the tinsel and witchery 
of fahle. The philosopher, bound down to facts, pursues 
his course in a circumscribed and fore-ordained path: 
the poet, with charter wide as the wild wind," ran 
ges uncontrolled over the expanse of nature. Fiction 
(says the Father of Criticism) teaches morality not by 
dull and sententious maxims, not by reciting historically 
what Aristides achieved or suffered, but by the un 
bounded aid of allegory and imitation, more surely effects 
its purjH>se. 

TIte importance of poetry is eminently conspicuous 
in its application to religion its subserviency to the 
incense of adoration, and making man fit to hold con 
verse with his Maker. This, indeed was its primal, 
essential, and original oflice of destination: and this it 
still so happily performs, that it elsewhere seems out 
of character, as if intended for this holy purpose alone. 
* Jn other instances poetry appears to want the assis 
tance of art. but in this to shine forth in all its natural 
splendor, or rather to be aiiimr^ed with that inspira 
tion, which ou other occasions is rath? r spoken of than 
felt. These observations arc remarkably exemplified 
in I!K. Hebrew poetry, than which the human mind 
can conceive of nothing more elevated, more beautiful, 
or more imposing: in which the almost ineffable sub 
limity of the subject is fully equalled by the energy of 
the language, and the dignity of the style. If we 
were to adduce an argument .to convince the mere 
appellant to reason of the futility of his objections to 
the inspiration of the sacred writers, we would point 
him to the lofty strains of Isainh, whose Hips have 
been touched with a living coal" from the ever- burn ing 
altar of sacred inspiration. 

Precisely such is the course of our author in this 
his "Palmarium oj,ns." He intersperses amid much 
learning, and apparently embodied research, the ad 
vantages of music, sculpture, painting, eloquence, and 
presents to his reader in nroner succession astute rea- 


soiling to convince his understanding pathetic senti 
ments to enlist his sympathy lofty truths to arouse 
his fervor awful retribution to awaken his fears, and 
soothing consolations to encourage his hopes. In fine 
for our remarks have extended beyond our nurpoae 
few writers combine so many beauties, lo nervous 
and original thinking he adds a brilliant imagination, 
and the most picturesque coloring of language. To 
abstruse speculations he lends an irresistible charm by 
ingenious and easy illustrations, and has attained the 
diilicult and rare felicity otiine htibfre punctum by 
uniting the ut He cum ilnlcc. Few writers \ve recol 
lect Addison alone in our language have succeeded in 
combining literature with morals in reconciling sci 
ence with religion in freeing the former from skepti 
cism and the latter from bigotry and rendering the 
union more delightful by splendor of imagery and rich 
ness of illustration from both sources, making them 
stand mutually supporting and suppoited. That he 
occasionally mistakes declamation for argument falls 
into extravagancies of thought ard language and uses 
reasonings more specious than solid we are forced to 
admit. This is the result of a too vivid imagination* 
and who would not concur with Soume Jenyna 

"If the soaring spirit flow 
Hcyond where prudence fears to go: 
These errors are of nobler kind 
Than beauties of a barren mind?" 


The Southern Review, in a late article, in which 
the theory of Dr. Waterhouse is examined at large, 
ventures upon one of its own, w ith regard to the iden- 

ll r o/<rA0Mr Juntu._"An essay on Junius and hit Letlera: embro 
il^ a sketch of the life and character of William Pitt. Earl of Chatham, and 


1itv of Junius, to which we propose giving a moment ?* 
consideration; though, for some time back, we have 
been disposed to look upon any inquiry into the author 
ship of these letters, as productive of gratuitous and 
fruitless controvcnsy. Not that the discovery may not 
he of utility in many respects, but because until their 
patcruity be avowed, discovery is hopeless. It may 
afford, at the present instance, a theme for fine writing, 
plausible guesses, and acute reasoning. To estimate 
the earnestness aud zeal, with which the enquiry has 
been prosecuted, we need only reflect, that, to each of 
the following list of distinguished men, has the honor 
of its authorship been attributed, and that labored 
efforts have been made to support the claims of most 
of them: John Home Toohe. I^ord Sackrille. Sir 
P/n/i/j Francis, ff m. Gerard Hamilton, Henry Flood, 
Dr. Johnson, Edmund Burke, Chatham, G/orrr, 
flyer, Butler, Jluburtvn and flr Lolint. 

We have ever thought ourselves that Home Tooke 
was the author of these letters. External and circum 
stantial evidence are against it, but the proofs afforded 
by these letters themselves arc neither few, nor insig 
nificant. The lofty style, pointed invective, proud 
consciousness of superiority, and familiarity with Clas 
sical lore, evinced by Junius. \\AS ever fully within the 
reach, and characteristic of John Home. The fact of 
his transfixing himself with his own poisoned dart, f-nd 
in a manner so unsparing, presents a singular distor 
tion of disposition; but the severity of the attack was 
perhaps necessary to insure concealment, and may 
only present one of those singular whims, or deep laid 
schemes, both of which form a part of his eccentric 
character. Indeed, we might make use of all our 
Reviewer s general argument-; in support of our nomi 
nation. Dr. Waterhouse (the writer under the ordeal 

memoir* of certain other dtftipgiTvhed individual*: with reflections historical. 
personal, and political, relating to the affair* of Great Britain aad America, from 
1763 to 1785. By Benjamin YVatcrfoonae, M. !>., member of wverai Medi 
cal, Philosophical, and LiUrary ocieti ia Ewop* and America." 


of our critic) nominates the elder Lord Chatham as the 
author of Junius. We think our it viewer has demo 
lished the claim of his lordship with great ability. He 
has proved by argument clear, and illustration conclu 
sive, by internal and external evidence, and by a just 
analysis of Chatham s mind, his utter incapacity for the 
task. Indeed, we can hardly conceive an hypothesis 
more monstrous. The claim of Sir Philip Francis is 
also discussed by our critic, and satisfactori y laid on 
the shelf. The pretensions of the Ha rone t however, 
hud been previously settled by Mr. Jeffrey, who upon 
the first appearance of the ingenious work (JttttMff 
Identified) of W. Taylor, shattered at a blow his plau 
sible deductions. Our reviewer, after dismissing those 
claims, and treating his readers to some truly acute and 
original remarks upon the character of Junius style. 
sentiment) and illustrations, proceeds to oiler his own 
candidate for the prize. We read this essay with a 
mixed pleasure until we came to this hypothesis. And 
what is it? That Junius was the Rev. Philip Francis, 
1). 1). translator of Demosthenes and Horace. To us 
the idea is fraught with improbabilities, nor do we think 
our reviewer is very strong in the faith. If Dr. Wa- 
terhousc s nomination is an anomaly, this is the anomaly 
of anomalies. Our objections to the reasons adduced 
by our reviewer are as numerous as the reasons them 
selves. His grounds are so vague and inconclusive, 
th;t they might he transferred to a score of writers 
\Uiom we could name. The style of Junius (says he) 
fr (jiiently resembles that of Demosthenes. Does it 
therefore resemble that of Dr. Philip Francis? Just 
the reverse. Dr. Franris" style was correct, some 
what polished, and always five from inaccuracies, but 
without point, or great vigor. The style of Junius is 
often abrupt, sometimes careless, and always abounding 
in new and striking illustrations. In relation to the 
supposed resemblance of hand-writing, we know 
nothing; but of all evidence, we deem it the weakest. 


it deprives the author of the most ordinary discretion 
and foresight. Besides, Dr. Francis, though the trans 
lator of Horace and Demosthenes, possessed not the 
scholarship of Junius that intimacy with the classics 
without servility to their manner that spirit of the 
ancients thoroughly engrafted with the modern that 
elegant tact, which enabled him to mould antique 
knowledge to his purpose, without the appearance of 

Dr. Francis was a translator Junius a trausfuscr 
of classical ideas. He made thrm his own. His work 
is not Demosthenean. It is precisely what Cicero 
would have written in English. Again, as a political 
writer Dr. Francis is unknown. The intimacy with 
men and measures, the familiarity with courts, their 
customs, etiquette, and foibles, which give no small 
attraction to these letters, were totally out of his line. 
Finally, Dr. Francis was a divine, and a good man. and 
consequently incapable of the insincerity, distortion of 
language from its original meaning, malevolent delight 
in the agony of his victims, virulent invective, and 
evident impiety, which plainly appear favorite recrea 
tions with the author of Junius. These letters are de 
cidedly the finest model of writing in that style, com 
bining ease and elegance, with terseness and poignancy. 
But we make a special protcstando against his heartless 
causticity, his unsparing anathemas, his revengeful 
spirit, his loose allusions to the Deity, and undoubted 
disregard of moral restraint. Not content with point 
ing his arrows with ridicule, he dipped them in 



It has become quite a fashion among modem writers 
to offer a Defence of Poetry and the poetical tempe 
rament, as if, in fact, there existed any such necessity. 
To those courts, in which, the fine arts," the wan 
derings of old song, and those sweet abstractions which 
could deify the solemn groves and the secluded forests, 
with "grave and glorious shapes/ are held obnoxious 
and profane, the muse has always refused to concede 
jurisdiction; and, to all others, where is the necessity 
for defence. There is however, such a disposition, at 
all times to couple the use with the abuse the prosti 
tution with the profession, that modern criticism, 
mistaking ii; some sort the true argument, has taken up 
the cause of one, who, in reality, needs no defender. 
Sir Philip Sydney s beautiful essay, has furnished the 
text book for one of these, who, in a recent issue of the 
North American Review, has put forth an article upon 
the labor of this brave knight, whose whole life has 
been quaintly described as "Poetry put in action." 
The article to which we now refer is a chaste and ra 
ther eloquent essay, occasionally vague, wandering, 
inconclusive, and sometimes commonplace: but pro 
ving in elegant language, that all the early science, 
both sacred and profane, of which the world is possess 
ed, and which constitutes the fund, from which suc 
cessive speculators have invariably borrowed, has been 
deposited in the treasury of the muses. That the 
only mode of instruction adapted to human nature in 
an uncivilized state, when the knowledge of letters is 
little diffused, must be that in the language of Bishop 
JLowth which is calculated to captivate the ear and 
passions, and which assists the memory by metre, 
which is not delivered for after-contemplation, but is 
immediately infused into the mind and heart. So 
faithful a preservative of truth is the rhythm of verse, 

fcEfoAINS LITERVrtY, &t . 183 

(fiat what is invariably augmented, changed, corrupted 
or interpolated in prose, may continue for ages in me 
tre, without material variations or even a change in 
obsolete phraseology. 

To stand amid the works of the wonderful architect 
as their admiring interpreter: to look around, not 
with the unconscious gaze of mere animal sensation: 
but to comprehend in their qualities and uses, the 
things we behold, the air, the sunshine, the lightning, 
the storm, to see all things rising in their order, and 
moving in their harmony: to stand, as did the first 
man, and call by their names *all things that" pass be" 
fore us, is to take one of the noblest and happiest po 
sitions on earth, and fittest too for the Lord of this low 
er creation. 

There are few pleasures, unconnected with labor, 
in which men can indulge without making inroads 
upon virtue. Few can be at the same time unoccu 
pied and innocent. To extend the sphere of our un- 
contaminated enjoyments, and ensure a relaxation, 
which, while it unbends the mind, detracts nothing 
from the heart, there is, perhaps, no surer method 
than to cultivate the pure wanderings of the fancy. 
The mind awakens to a new existence, and scenes be 
fore noticed (if at all) with indifference, are gilded by 
its influence with all the varying hues of beauty, and 
disclose unnumbered charms before invisible. 

The mind cannot be always busy, but must sometimes 
relax itself from the labor of reflection. The thirst 
after knowledge cannot always subsist without satiety 
or weariness: and there is not more bountiful provision 
for the recovery of the ardor of enquir . than the ten 
dency of the mind to fly from the pursuits of bustling 
life to combine the discordant sources of happiness 
and solace itself in the boundless riot of fancied felicity. 

In fields of air she writes her name, 
And treads the chambers of the sky: 
She reads the stars and grasps the flamcy 


That quivers round the throne on high. 
In war renowned, in peace sublime- 
She moves in greatness and in grace; 
Her power subduing space and time, 
Links realm to realm, and race to race. 

lliere is no heart so seared by worldly pursuits 
no understanding so uncultivated no bosom so steeled 
by the grovelling things of earth, as to be incapable, at 
certain moments, "short though they be, and far be 
tween" of enjoying th..t divine emotion, which steals 
the soul from the unworthy anxieties of the world and 
makes it "hold converse with the gods." 

We cannot forbear, at times, to turn with a sicken- 
ening feeling from the cheerless pursuits of bustling life 
and the heartless, all-ahsorbiug interest of gain, to 
refresh the eye with the never-fading verdure of a 
golden age, and drink the living waters that gush from 
the fountain of inspiration perennial helicon the sa 
cred retreat of the muses! The poet is the pioneer of 
improvement. Before science is advanced and civili 
zation diffused, the productions of the bard are com- 
plete requiring not the aid of learning to paint scenes 
Jamiliar to his childhood the characters wUh whom he 
had acted and events in which himself has borne a 
part % Thus, he is the first to oiler the fruits of his ge 
nius, and foremost in the career of those arts, destined 
to polish his uncivilized countrymen. Unaided at an 
early age, by learning, the situation of the poet more 
than compensates this defect. The herald ol* events 
passing before him, or of tradition equally believed 
not recalling the sentiment, and manners of a remote 
and obscure age, he requires not the admonition of the 
critic, to reflect upon "the ideas and expressions suited 
to his characters. The language of feeling flows spon 
taneously from the movements of his own heart, and he 
has no occasion to copy. Imitation misleads not his 
judgment, nor feud s his imagination, he delivers 
sentiments dictated by nature, for lie has no other pre- 


ceptor. His sentiments flow as if from inspiration, 
not invention: no effort is visible, but be is hurried on 
by the mere impulse of instinct. Such is the simple, 
yet lofty, lay of the early bard, enjoying licence denied 
to the poet of after times. 

We cannot better conclude our crude strictures, 
which have extended beyond our original intention, 
than by a quotation from the noblest writgr in our lan 
guage the illustrious founder of the inductive philoso 
phy. The summary which this bold and original writer 
makes on this subject is so masterly, that we shall be 
.surprised, if it does not go far to answer the cavils of 
those, who have objected to poetry, that it gives wrong 
views and excites false expectations of life peoples 
the mind with shadows and illusions and builds up 
imagination on the ruins of wisdom: 

"Poetry (says he) seems to be raised altogether from a 
noble foundation, which makes mur i for the dignity of man s 
nature. For secinc; this insensible world is in dignity infe 
rior to the human soul, poetry setms to endow our nature 
with that which history denies: and to give him satisfaction 
to the mind, with at least the shadow of things, where the 
substance cannot be obtained. For, if the matter bo tho 
roughly considered, a strong argument may be drawn from 
poetry, that a more stately greatness of thing?, a more per 
fect order, and a more beautiful variety, delights the soul of 
man, than any way can be found in nature since the fall. 
Wherefore, seeing the acts and events, which are the subjects 
of true history, are not of that amplitude to content .he mind 
of man; poetry is at hand to feign acts more heroical. Be 
cause true history reports the success of business not propor 
tionable to the merit of virtues and vices; poetry corrects it, 
and presents event? and fortunes according to deserts, and 
according to the law of Providence. Because true history, 
through the frequent satiety and similitude of things, works a 
distaste and misprison in the mind of mtn; poesy cheereth 
tnd refresheth the soul, chanting things rare, and Ysrious, 
nd full of vicissitudes." 


186. KKMAIN8 L1TKRA.RT, &.C. 


The scventli article of a late Southern Review, is 

devoted to the claims of American Letters, and fur 

nishes a sensible and judicious review of the preten 

sions to immortality ottered in behalf of sundry score of 

native poetical worthies, by one Mr. Samuel Kettcll. 

The reviewer justly observes, "we come to bury Cu-sar, 

not to praise him" and he has effectually done so. 

We object, however, to the modus opera ml i. In dis 

missing them to the shades, he has unnecessarily stop 

ped them on their already downward course thither: 

and, in consigning them to deserved oblivion, has given 

them by his strictures a momentary character, which 

they do not merit, and would not, otherwise, have o!>- 

tained. These mental contortions bear every murk of 

having been manufactured in the Dutchman s mill for 

making poetry* or, at least, upon the principlL* laid 

down ! the "Bourgeois Genti/hommc" "tout cv q\d 

n\ st pas prose est wrs" all that is n^t prose is poetry. 

We do not intend by this sweeping anathema, that the 

whole body of poetry contained in these volumes is o;i 

a par, and obnoxious to indiscriminate censure. Sev 

eral pieces S prague s Ode, for example would adorn 

English liurature in its best day. But a vast majority 

of the selections, we regret to say, will be read when 

Homer and Virjril are forgotten, but not till then. 

Jain satis Mpunjuc. We will dismiss the subject 

w ! h a few general remarks upon the theme of the re- 

The literature of America resembles her soil much 
of it is wild aiid uncultivated. The calls of necessity 
have hitherto principally engrossed our efforts those 
of refinement are but now be.crinning to be heard. At 
no period has cur reputation for literature stood higher. 
both at home and abroad. We have advanced with 
no faltering step but the ground untrod is infinite. 


What we have already achieved furnishes ground for 
hope, but none for complacency is an incentive to 
action* but no excuse for supine ness. We cannot but 
believe, that the circumstance which distinguishes us 
from every other people who have created a literature 
of their own. our community of hiitgitaecc irith an 
old nation has retarded, and will, for a long time, con 
tinue to impede, our native original productions. The 
Augustan age of English Literature is past her bol 
dest conceptions arc exhausted every dejwrtmcnt has 
been prc-occupied and we are left to imitate. This 
is our danger. Let this once become our besetting 
sin* " and we arc thrown a century in the rear. Let 
us (scape it, and we gain a century in advance. The 
cant of worn-out themes of the impossibility of no 
veltyof the sameness of human nature- of exhausted 
well springs we give to the winds as idle and unmean 
ing verbiage. It is the oflice of exalted minds 
to discover new sources of pleasure to vary the 
attitudes of human passions to expand, to trans 
pose, to illustrate, and adorn old thoughts, and 
mark them with their own character and impress. An 
Orphic verse produced the Illiad HcsiocFs meagre 
"Works and Days begot the Georgic a night thought 
engendered the Paradise Lost. Upon such materials 
does genius operate from such sear and withered 
stems docs she weave her fairest garlands! It must 
strike every one, of even superficial observation, that 
]K)ctry has latterly lost much of the ground it once held 
in public estimation. The world is becoming more 
bustling- --more practical- --more alive to the sensible 
than the artherial to matter than to mind. In place 
of the flowing numbers of the muse, v;e find the num 
bers of the discount and interest table: in lieu of the 
soft phrases of rhetoric, we find rough specimens of 
geology: instead of .logic, we find chemistry: in 
place ot metaphysics, we find political economy. To 
rouse this apathy, and excite the flagging interest of 


the world, our poets have resorted to monstrous effort* 
of fiction to the incredible in place of the sublime- 
to abrupt hraseology and ostentatious libertinism. 
They have in part succeeded, but the "gain" has been 
"exceeding loss/ They have insured present noto 
riety and profit, but risked future oblivion. Their 
error is, to us, obvious. They have not written for 
the people. They have repeated usque ad nauseam 
the thread-bare exploits of oft sung heroes they have 
rung the changes upon old themes, without inventing 
new they have followed, not preceded, public opin 
ion- they have adopted the creed of the infidel Sha- 
led "Aleph is god of the hills, but not of the vallies," 
and have, accordingly, deserted the cottage of nature 
for the palace of art. This is a fault, not of poetry, 
but of its professors. They alone are answerable for 
the disrepute of their art. 


"These flow rs do have a meaning, 
"They do speak." 

In Berkley s Romance of Gaudentio Di Lucca,* 
embodied in the beautiful tale of Bevilla, we have the 
Utopia of the writer, in the customs of the simple, un 
sophisticated Mezzoranians. These usages are many 
of them beautiful, and that in relation to declarations 
of love, certainly much more simple, expeditious and 
poetical, than the business-like method of modern times; 
three considerations, (simplicity, despatch, and poetic 
beauty) which should materially weigh even with the 
votaries of the Modern cupid cupid-t/y who even 
now exclaim with the old extravaganza 

"Ye Gods! annihilate both time and space, 4 
"And make two lovers happy!" 
Se at page 203 of ihu Romance. 


In Mezzorania, gallants made professions of attach 
ment, not by artificial words, but by natural flowers. 
The lover commenced the scigc upon the citadel of his 
lady love s heart by the offer of a Rosebud the em 
blem of concealed affection* just budding into existence. 
If she did not wish him immediately *killcd by the 
frowning wrinkle of her brow," if she did not aim to 
* -crush young affection s budding flower" and to cast 
the pilgrim of love into Bunyan s "slough of despond, 
there, like Jeremiah of old, to "waste his days in me 
lancholy sighs" she graciously accepted and wore the 
bud. When time had increased his affection for in 
Mezzorania, it is supposed, that time increases affec 
tion for those that deserve it the lover presented a 
half-blown rose, the token of expanding attachment: 
and, after this also was graciously accepted, he came, 
we may suppose, not very long afterwards, with a full 
blown rose, the emblem of mature affection. At this 
juncture the Mezzoranian belles had the privilege of 
pausing, ere they crossed the rubicon; though, it is 
said, that those who were suspected of trifling with the 
mystery of Flora s kingdom, and of enticing hapless 
youth to this last and perilous category, with the se 
cret intention of snapping the chord of affection of 
letting love swing from its moorings of causing hope 
to die on the altar so lately erected in vulgar par 
lance cf kicking a suitor were debarred, by the 
laws of the island, from receiving or presenting a flower 
(for Mezzorania had its bissextile) through the "long 
space of six revolving years." We forgot to mention, 
that the ladies, who accepted these full-blown flowers, 
and wore them, were looked upon amongst the simple 
Mezzoranians as engaged for life: nor did the gentle 
men, when they offered their flowers, make one single 
vow or protestation of eternal love, yet they were be 
lieved, and deserved, it is said, to be believed. 

A fair Florist begs of us a dictionary of Botanical 
Emblems, and we have half a mind to oblige her; but 

100 Ill MAIXS UTEUAUY, kc. 

though in our early days we have ventured stealthily 
to the waters of Castaly, we have grown stmd of late, 
ami are now strict followers in the train" of Themis, 
who, as it is well known, will as little sanction any at 
tention to her sister Calliope, as permit of any flirtation 
with the nymphs of Flora. We have long since 
quit the company of the muses, umierrating the value 
of their acquaintance, from the simple reason, perhaps, 
that we have never, at any period, heen permitted to of any great share of their intimacy. To look 
for lines the re fore, by which to illustrate AY/JT.V, is an 
awkward difficulty, hut, at a season, like this, when the 
flowers are in hloom ahout us, and the glad watei-s glit 
ter in the sun, there is no apology, and we proceed 
therefore to gather a wreath of Jlnwry and fanciful 
communion, finding lor capricious love, a rich form of 
speech in the language of flowers. Should some of our 
botanical terms strike the learned reader as rather no 
vel, it is not our concern. Let him take the garden 
as fie finds it, and not look tSie "gift horse in the mouth. v 
We have, it is true, taken some liberties with Linnxus, 
all of which we shall answer for in another place and 


"Then gather a wreath from your garden bowers, 
"And tell the wish of your heart in flowers." 

Cypress. Cupremsus acmjjervireiis. G ricf 

"The cypress that darkly shades the grave. 

"Is sorrow that mourns her bitter lot/- Percival. 

Forget me not. Ptntandria Dyginia. Remembrance. 

"And faith, that a thousand ills can brave, 

"Speaks in thy (hluc) leaves, forget me not." Per. 

Evergreen. Graphulhun. Unchanging affection, 
"When I love thec not, chaos is come again." Shaks. 
Dogwood. Cornus Florida. Undeserved love, 

"Tho* mean, false and cruel, 


Anil bnsc .n thou art, 

Yet I cannot forgot thce, 

Thou lord of my heart." Pcrciva/. 

Anemone. Ilur.ihle attachment. 

"The silent, soft, and humble heart 

"In the violet s hidden sweetness, breathes/ Per. 

Evergreen. Cardinalis. Ever thine. 
"Ar.d the tender smil that cannot part 
"A twine of evergreen fondly wreathes." Per. 

Bay. JUmrti*. Lofty love. 

"I could not love thce, dear, so much, 
"Loved 1 not honor more." 

Columbine. ---/ //r/wnVi Del. Win or die. 
"Spur on. Sir Knight, your Lady dear 
"Imprisoned lies in dungeon drear. Sir Launeclot. 

Ambrosia.---. ?, murilhna. Love returned.* 
"She was beloved, she loved." Shakspcare. 

Amaryllis.---. Iformosissima. Splendid beauty.* 
With looks too bright and beautiful tor such a world AS this. 

Anemone. Windflower. Expectation.* 

"For him she breathes the silent sigh forlorn, 
"Each setting day, for him each rising morn." Dar. 

Morning Glory. Convolvulus. Uncertainty. 

Hope choered his breast with morning beam, 
Hut evening s cloud dispell d the dream. 

Catchfly. l^cari. Love s ambush. 

"Killed by the frowning lightning of her eye." Shaki. 

Dahlia. Dahlia superjlua. Happy love.* 

"To feel that we adore, &.:. 

To such refined excess, 

Weqote,fri memory ,Mi.Wirt f grtrfl compilation , Flora i Dictionary. 


That though the heart would break with more, * 
It could not do with less." Moore. 

Everlasting.- Gnafihalium. Never ceasing remem 

"So turns the impatient needle to the pole, 

"Though mountains rise between and oceans roll." Darwin. 

Everlasting ye*. Lathy r tut latifolia. An appointed 


"Lovers break not hours, except it be to come before their 
time." Shakspeare. 

Eglantine. Rosa rubiginosa! I wound to heal.* 

"Now show the wound mine eyes have made in thee." Shale. 

Foxglove.-- -Digitalis. A wish. 

"0, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch 
that cheek." Shakspeare. 

Cotton ftovter.Gossypium. Modern love. 

Tis not the pouting lip of roseate dye, 

Nor breasts, where all the loves delighted rove; 
Nor the blue languish of the speaking eye, 

That in my bosom raisM the flame of love. 
Thy lip, and breast, and eye, I much admire, 

But charms less transient rob my soul of rest 
Thy gold, thy guineas, set my heart on fire; 

I long to rummage thy papa s old chest. 

Myrtle. Communis Myrtus. Constancy. 

"Yes it was love," c. Byron. 
Myrtle. Mursint Normionia. Innocence. 
"Thy myrtle bud, white-robed in innocence." Hughta. 

Rosemary. Ros Marinus. Unhappy love. 
"Absence is death of love." Shakspeare. 

Sun Dew. Dioncea Muscipula. Attraction. 
"Fall not in love!" 

W quote, from maaiory, Mrs. Wirt i graceful compilation, "Flow/i Di^ 


China Aster. Aster Chinirnsis. Hesitation 
"Why that downcast look, lassie, 
Why that cheek of changeful hue, 
Why that hand withdrawn, lassie, 
When thy lover dares to woo." Mftlen. 

Wild Tulip. 7nlipa fiylvestris. Indifference. 

And coldness steel thai heart and brow, 
That passion swayed before." 

Lotos. Lo tot. Aspiring love. 

"That I should love a bright particular stir, 
And think to wed it." Shaktpcare 

Wind flower. .dnemonr. The modern Cupid. 

"He rests on violet banks no languid limb 
The Hunk of England is the hank for him; 
Nor bull nor lion he triumphant rides, 
Hut bullion is the golJcn beast he guides, 
Lord of the Treasury, M aster of the Mint, 
This is our Cupid ladies take the hint: 
In short t money -loving god is he, 
Called by his votaries Cupidity." 

Blue Bcfl. Lo/f/b/to. Female Pedantry. 

"Said Nature one day, "For the peace of mankind 
Let women and men have -heir kingdom apart; 
To man I assign the cold regions of mind, 
To woman the sunny domain of the heart." 
The kingdom of hearts, then is woman s sole share, 
Oh! unharness your owl, and depend on your dove! 
There is learning enough in the world and to spare, 
Hut Flora, my dear, there s too little of love!" 

Beauty s Slipper. CipHpcdium. Fastidious beauty. 
"Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, &c." Shales. 

Sensitive plant.--. Mimosa. Capriciousness. 
"Lost w the Jcar delight of giving pain." 

Passion Flower. JVigcUa. Beware. 
"Fall not in Jove, dear girls be wire!" 


Hollyhock. Jlka rosa. Honorable love. 
"Yes, by my hopes of Heaven, I ll be 
With honor thine, or lost to thee!" 

LoveTies-blecding.---r0/m//</rw. Unanswered love 

"He is gone! he is gone! 
Like the leaf from the tree, 
Or the down that i.s blown 
Hy the wind o er the lea. 
He is fled the lifijht hearted 1 
Vet a tear must have started 
In his eye, when he parted 
From lovc-slrickcu me!" 

Iris. Iris. Farewell! 

"Farewell, a long farewJl to" love, to flowers, and Flora. 


It has been said that the most brilliant monuments of 
Literature have been coeval with the downfall, or, at 
least , the decay 9 of national greatness. Impartial Histo 
ry does not corroborate the assertion. We deny that 
a flourishing state of arts is an invariable contemporary 
of national decline, and that it is like the final song of 
Hie bird of classical fame, the last expiring effort of 
Nature to retain existence. We do not consider Lite 
rature as a mere source of pleasure to the intellectual vo 
luptuary but as destined to subserve more exalted pur 
poses. We consider it not as a mere object of luxury; 
but as exalting the views, enlarging the moral vision, and 
increasing the intellectual powers oi the human race. 

The student loves to linger "on those scenes of tran 
quil refinement, when the profession of arms has yield 
ed to the study of letters; and the rough features of 
war have been soiVned by the milder influence of the 
imagination. It is more pleasing to dwell upon the les- 

UEMA1NS LITKUAKY, c\(. 19.) 

sons of Aristotle, than on the conquests of Alexander: 
upon the Eloquence of Pericles, and the History of 
Thueydidcs, th:ui the battles which they fought, or the 
victories which they gained. The Augustan age of 
Rome has obscured the conquests of her Scipios; and 
among their descendants the names of her heroes are 
forgotten, while the literary splendor of the House of 
Medici still illumines the world. The martial fame of 
Essex is heard no more, but the gloiy of Spencer and 
Shakspearc are brighter than ever. The ambitious 
plans of Louis XIV. arc forgotten, while his Corncillc, 
his Racine IMH! his Moleire. continue the pride of 
France. Marlborough and Blenheim, are names sound 
ing only at intervals; but those of Dryden, Addison, and 
Pope, will be forever repeated with delight. And 
may NVC not predict triumphs to America also in the 
field of learning? I answer we may. The vital ali 
ment of exalted excellence the r^oral power of our 
freedom of institutions can e fleet more than all the coin 
cidence of causes which favoured "living (1 recce. ?? 
Happily for America she has fully felt, that, whatever 
adorns man- ^rs, imparts vigour to the mind, or nerves 
the aiuor of the character, owes its existence to Educa 
tion. With this persuasion much she has performed: 
but the field untrod is infinite. For never can our 
country be based upon an imperishable foundation, un 
til LIIU.RTY and LF.TTKKS, be her chosen Motto. In 
the meantime, she has much to undertake much to ex 
ecute. Her labours arc manifold, for as yet, we shnmc 
to say, notwithstanding our unprecedented progress in 
the art. and elegancies of refined life, Literature, na 
tive and original, still too much resembles the "desert 
Rose;- and we are still too much inclined to regard 
the apparently iinfirwlnrtirc efforts of rhetoric and 
song, as the satirist did the fad oil relics of the Grecian 
beautv mere bones! 



The last English papers announce the death of Jere 
my Bentham, Esq. one of the most celebrated, as well 
as" mot* eccentric, men of the age. He was a high- 
toned latitudinarian, radical reformer, ever wedded to 
some favorite theory, and regardless of difficulties. 
No restraints of hazard incurred, no calculations of 
consequences, were to he regarded. Neither existing 
institutions, nor established prejudices, nor habiu hal 
lowed by time, nor even the unalterable nature of 
things, were permitted to obstruct any theoretic and 
abstract suggestion of his mind. All vested interest 
al! existing systems all actual present palpable good 
must be sacrificed without compromise to a favorite 
general principle. It was the singular infelicity of this 
remarkable man, to prejudice every cause he under- 
ti <;!; to advance. With untiring zeal, sincerity unini- 
j; IL liable, incredible mental and bodily endurance, of 
grtat versatility of talent, and equal self-confidence, he 
was confessedly, pre-eminently, the most unfit of all the 
distinguished men of his party, to promote the cause 
he may have espoused. He always cooled the ardor 
of friends, and by his extravagancies caused division in 
theii* ranks: he was apt to add warmth to enemies, and 
by his violence and ul truism* give them recruits from 
among the timid, the wavering, and the neutral of his 
own nide. If he stooped to act with a party, his ser 
vices were accepted, hut he was not a partner in the 
ulterior counsels of its leaders. Of such powerful 
talents, as to command their respect, and have his ser 
vices courted, but of too little discretion to be entrusted 
with the post of active exertion. Too visionary to be 
followed; too uucalculating to lead; too independent 
to be controlled; too wedded to the perfect, to acqui 
esce in the practical and practicable. He would lis 
ten to no offer of compromise, lie would attend to no 


obstacles, he respected no prejudices, however hon 
est, no habit>. however deep-rooted, no season, 
however unpropitious. Too inaccessible to concili- 
Ute too headlong to yield even unimportant conces 
sions too violent to admit the possibility of honest 
error he seemed to forget the infirmity of our nature. 
With all his vast acquirements, and singularly acute 
cast of mind, he was as little qualified for a sound 
statesman, as the moon- struck Plato: he required to 
be first "unsphered." We have never acknowledged 
the force of the objections agninst him which implied 
inconsistency. We only charge- him with an over 
weening love of system-making extravagant the 
orizing, and headlong zeal with running counter to 
our dearest hopes prejudices, if lie will. His vir 
tues, on the other hand, were many and sterling. he 
was fearless, zealous, and often irrewstibie in the cause 
of truth, he saw the best, though he sometimes wan 
dered from, and more often, overstepped, the path. 
But we pause it is not for us to sum up the dreart 
account and farther still to estimate the issue. 



Glancing, a day or two ago, for the hundredth time, 
over that little volume of condensed wisdom, which goes 
by the name of Bacon s Essays, we were led to reflect 
upon the many mutations of letters since the time of 
that illustrious writer. 

If we enter into a comparison of the literature of the 
present, and even of the last century, with that of the 
age of Hooker and Taylor, we shall find infinitely less 
vigor and originality, more polish and refinement. In 
the one, the fault is a subdued coldness, or the oppo 
site extreme, fantastic extravagance, faultier medi- 


ocrity and interminable transcript. In the other, 
rough, ungainly strength, untutored energy, and unre- 
-trained, unequal eflbrts. In seeking to avoid the 
clownish riiggedness of our nervous ancestors, we have 
adopted a meretricious refinement, and courtier-like 
effeminacy. In correcting their occasional vwguenesse* 
of phraseology, we have pruned and engrafted, until 
the language is weakened and its original stock almost 
extinct. The cause of this want of independence and 
comprehensiveness of thought, this meagrencxs of in- 
tellect ostensibly atoned for by an apparently chaste 
and simple, after the elaborate style, which so much 
infected Queen Anne s wits, and which the present age 
has not yet shaken ofl is not entirely obvious. It ex 
tended equally to poetry and prose in the former we 
have made an essential alteration, whether for the bet 
ter or not, we shall see in time. 

That the prevalence of French manners, which then 
began to exist the estimation in which their author* 
stood the galaxy of wit which adorned the French 
rourt and the imbecile imitation engendered bv the 
patronage of Charles II. were concurrent causes of no 
small influence, cannot be doubted by anv one, who 
has dabbled in the history of that day." England had 
just recovered from the stern rule and rigid fanaticism 
of the Republicans, the spirits of her people felt re 
lieved from a gloomy pressure, and gave free and 
unrestrained vent to their vivacity, which impercepti 
bly tinged her writers, and gave tone character to 
her literature. No one who is familiar uith the pri 
vate and literary annals of the time can be ignorant of 
thedifliculty ,n the way of escaping this infection. 

Another cause, and one to which we attach no little 
importance, is that from this era we date the origin of 
English rri/iw,,,. We do not mean to sav. that 
when critics flourish, a sound, original, healthv litera 
ture cannot exist. We know the contrary. We e<- 
cm the ofhcc of criticism much higher than the cap- 


tFous art, which those liave rt presented it to be, \vho 
have writhed under its well deserved lashings. 

But we mean to give tin*, and the events which 
engendered it, as no small cause for the obviously dif- 
ft rent features, which characterise the age of Hooker 
and Barlow, fro n that of Addison and Swift. As the 
multiplication of hooks increased, the number of read en 
nngmcnted authors rushed in literature became a 
trade. It lost its previously lofty character competi 
tion ensueddepreciation of rival authors followed 
and criticism assumed a "local habitation and a name." 

Of old the clnss of readers, as that cf writers, was 
small, the difficulties to he surmounted great. Few 
ventured upon the <*ihir ad astnr the ascent to Par 
nassusbut those, whose consciousness of intellectual 
greatness assured them of success. Where one suc 
ceeded in reaching the summit, he was amply repaid 
for the toil, by the admiration and gratitude of his 
readers, who, depending upon a small circle for their 
intellectual food and recreation, vied with each other 1 
in devotion to the literary pioneer. But when the art 
of printing became authors multiplied 
when readers no longer received their works with de- 
fiTcnce and gratitude as a favor, but sat in judgment 
over them, as an attempt to corrupt their taste and 
lighten their purses when writers dreaded, as a fiery 
ordeal, the tribunal they once regarded, as a tributary 
fame literary men lost that freedom and indepen 
dence of thought, which confidence engendered 
the master spirits of the day whom nought couh, 
intimidate from innovation, passed away, and left 
a class behind which succumbed to critical die- 
tn forced their minds to act within circumscrib 
ed limitv-dreaded long (lights, and were content with 
being polished, easy, and witty, without aspiring after 
vigor or originality. Both the style of their writing, and 
their choice of subject indicate, if not more contracted, 
at least feebler minds. These remarks, however, ap- 


ply more to the writers of the last century than to those 
of our own day, when there has been a species of spas 
modic reaction* and impetuous contempt of authority, 
which indicate independence, if not power of thought. 

An American author of distinguished reputation has 
on another occasion, in speaking of our National Lite 
rature, recommended that the united study of the clas 
sics and the writers of the 17th century, whose charac 
ter we have heen discussing he compared with their 
immediate successors and our own school. The force 
of his suggestion is summed up in the following extract: 

"We have recommended these two classes of writers, not 
only because they arc in themselves excellent, hut because 
each is, we think, calculated to correct the evil which might 
arise from an exclusive study of the other. The Greek and 
Roman languages are far more perfect, better contrived ve 
hicles for thought and feeling than any modern tongue. No 
writer can, therefore, now equal the class in authors in mere 
istyle, and if he strives too much to resemble them, he would 
perhaps, form a tame, monotonous and artificial style; he 
might substitute excessive delicacy for purity of language. 
Now this evil would be less likely to befal him, if he were 
accustomed to the copiousness, variety and force of the old 
English writers. On the other hand, an excessive and indis 
criminate admiration of these last might make him careless, 
diffuse and declamatory; but this could hardly happen, if he 
had learned to appreciate aright the simple majesty, the lof 
ty and sustained, but disciplined energy of the mighty mas 
ters of the Grecian and Roman school. It is apprehended 
by some, that a style, formed by the study of English au- 
thors^who flourished when our language was, as they say, 
in its infancy, would be quaint, atVectcd, and full of obsolete 
expressions. He who is much acquainted with those writers, 
with Jeremy Taylor particularly, cannot but discover that 
our language is very much impoverished since their day, hr 
will perhaps feel strongly the contrast between their rich ant 
varied expression, and the lifeless monotony of more mod 
ern writers; he may sometimes be tempted to use a word or 
idiom that has gone out of fashion ; but this will be the extent 
of his offence, for the classics will teach him to hate every 
thing like affectation. 


"In this country, it should be the business and theobjc t 
of the literary men, not to reform and purify, but to create 
n national literature. We never yet had one, and it is time 
the want should be supplied. So much has been said, and 
unskilfully said, about the peculiar advantages of our free 
and popular institutions, and the beneficial effects they might 
be expected to have on our literature, that it has become a 
wearisome theme to many cars, and we almost fear to touch 
upon it; bul the fact i*, that while some of our countrymen 
are vain enough, they scarce know of what, the great body 
of the nation, the literary and the wealthy, of those who 
have influence in the community arc not at all loo proud of 
our peculiar and glorious advantages; and what is worse, they 
arc not apt to be proud in the right place." 

Dr. Johnson has said, with the flippancy he some- 
limes affected, that 4 *the man who would perpetrate a 
pun, would not scruple to pick a pocket/ This was 
one of those dogmas of a mind, perverse though strong, 
which delights in startling assertion, and is hold and 
confident without being assured. That he spoke with 
out thought may be inferred from the fact, that, in the 
application of his remark to the feeble spirit of conceit 
which disfigured the style, and distorted the language 
of the day, he overlooked or disregarded its like appli 
cation to the practice of the ancients one too, that 
does not appear to have been much rebuked, or, at least 
never to such an extent as this among them. CJIan- 
cing at the fragments left of the earlier Roman Poets, 
Andronicus, Naevius, Ennius, etc. we were more sur 
prised than we should have been, to find many passa 
ges the merest bundles of conceits that the most trifling 
and degraded periods of modem literature can furnish. 
The most senseless jingle of words ap.d extravagance of 
alliteration is found in Enneu s "Telcphus," and show, 
that it is a great mistake to imagine, that the literature 
of a rude and early age is free from the alliteration o 
the English, the bijouterie of the French, or the con- 



cttti of the Italian school. We challenge the manifold 
feeblenesses and absurdities of the three to produce jt 
specimen of false taste equal to the following by the man* 
whose character Ovid sums up in the words, ingenia 
maximus Kirte rudis, 

"f/aud doctis dictis ccrtantes sed malcdictis, 
Tilt tule Tute tibi tantu tyrannetuliiti. 
Stultus rst <{ue sitpida cupiens cupicnler cvpit." 


We have just risen from the perusal of the "Scep 
tic," a poem, by Felicia Hemans, and trust we have laid 
the volume down neither uninstructed, nor unimprov 
ed. It is uniformly chaste and beautiful, and occasion 
ally presenting passages of thrilling pathos and brilliant 
and powerful eloquence, it is not, as its title would 
import, a didactic poem, attempting to induce through 
the medium of Poetry a conviction which prose cannot 
effect. It is precisely what a poem of the kind should 
be one of feeling addressed to the sympathies -pro 
ving the weakness, the utter helplessness of man, with-, 
out the consolations of the Christian. 

Didactic Poetry is apparently the most Philosophi 
cal the most capable of teaching by examples the 
most susceptible of reasoning, and therefore, it would 
seem, the most suitable to convey instruction, or to con 
vince by an imperceptible and pleasant process. But 
the fact is otherwise. The connection with argument 
is always IbrceJ, and unnatural, and generally unfavor 
able to any better feeling than ennui or disgust. There 
is, indeed, philosophy in Poetry, but it b not the ratio 
cination of the schools it is not the dull process of syl 
logism* or a reasoning, which appeals to the understan 
ding alone. It is the spirit of poetry operating upon 
<l\e heart bringing back the calmer passions sooth 

HKM.MXS LITERACY, \fcc. 203 

ing the more stormy and reducing the soul to a tone 
of .>ober contemplation, which prepares it to receive, 
if it does not actually apply, the conclusions of philo 
sophy. No one was ever convinced by a didactic 
poem, nor indeed, is the power of instruction a test of 
its excellence. Mrs. Hcmans was aware of this, and 
took a surer course to effect her object to make a 
broken and a contrite spirit. She addresses the feel- 
i n S s ? snc eloquently depicts the loneliness and desola 
tion of the heart, and gradually enlisting the sympathies, 
at hist reduces the understanding to a state of humility, 
that admits the approach of truth, which is with the 
sceptic the chief, nay, the only, difficulty. 

We give a couple of extracts which, we think, will 
fully bear us out in the opinion we have iidvanccd. 

what is nature s strength? ihe vacant eye 

Uy mind deserted hath a dread reply, 

The wild delirious laughter of despair, 

The mirth ofphrcnzy seek an answer there! 

Turn not away though pity s cheek grow pale, 

CloM not thine ear against their awful tale. 

They tell Ihee* reason wandcring from /he. ray 

Off -tith) the hlazin<r pillar of her tray, 

In the mid-darkness of the stormy ware 

Forsook ihe stnigg/ing soul she could not save. 

Weep not, sad moralist, o er deert plains 

StrewM with the wrecks of grandeur mouldering fanes 

Arches of triumph, long with v.-ccds o crgrown 

And regal cities, now the serpent s own: 

Earth has more awful ruins one lost mind 

Whose star is qucnch d, hath lessons for mankind 

Of deeper import, than each prostrate dome 

Mingling its marble with the dust of Rome." p. 17. 

In the pride 

Of youth and health, by suffering* yet untried, 

We talk of death, as something which tVcrc sweet 

In glory s arms exultingly to meet; 

A closing triumph, a majestic scene, 

Where gazing nations watch the hero f mien, 

An undismayed amidst the tears of all, 


He folds his mantle, regally to fall. , 

Hush, fond enthusiast! still obscure and lone, 

Yet not less terrible because unknown, 

Is tht; last hour of thousands they retire 

From life s ihrong d path, unnoticed to expire. 

Us tht light leitf, whose full to ruin bear* 

Some trembling insect s little world of caret, 

Descends in silence, while around waves on 

The mighty fort s!, reckless what is gone/ 

Such is man s doom and, ere an hour he flown, 

Start not, thou triflcr, such may be thine own." p. 5. 

"The restoration of the Works of Art to Italy," was 
Mrs. Hcmans first and worst performance. The ver 
ification is only tolerable even as regards melody and 
smoothness, and in compass, strength and compression 
utterly wanting. Her next effort, Tales and Historic 
Scenes," evidences a rapid and obvious improvement, 
not only in versification, which practice might have 
insnrtd, hut in richness and novelty of thought, in 
pouer of compression and choice of a pregnant, terse 

"Camocns, and other Poems/* was hcrthird perform 
ance, being translations from the French, Italian, Spa 
nish, German and Portuguese, and exhibits little else 
than the translator s knowledge of these languages. At 
hast this is our opinion as far as we are able to judge. 
fc>r with the first tongue alone of those above-mentioned, 
do we claim intimacy. 

The character of Mrs. Hemans poetry is, in some 
respects, peculiar. She does not address herself to 
the common passions or bustling scenes of life s routine, 
nor are the feelings which she is most prone to deline 
ate such as are universal. This, it would seem, should 
lessen her success, and totally deprive her of a favora- 
ble reception from the generality of readers. But the 
fact -,s otherwise, nor do we conceive it of insuperable 
difficulty in the solution. Nature, it is true, is even 
where the same, but its predominant features vary in 
different temperaments! The most widely successful 

nr.M.uxs i.iTF.nARV. c. ^03 

poets in our language. Shakspcarc and Dry den, have; 
depicted passions universal to the whole human family, 
and are thence universally appreciated. The character 
of Mrs. Ik-mans" muse is less social, and more retiring 
and contemplative. It delights more in intercourse 
with nature, than with mortals, prefers the snow 
capped mountain, the lifting clouds, ai.d the ever 
changing year, to the dull monotony of the works of 
art; and would rather meditate in loneliness, and live 
upon its own poetic aspirations, than mingle in busy 
life, and make calls upon the sympathies of others. 

This preference, the result either of original tem 
perament, or the blighting hand of affliction, would in 
a mind of less power, and equanimity, and regulated 
tone, engender an abstract metaphysical love of mysti 
cism, a misanthropic spirit of loneliness, and a neglect 
or indifference to the interests of society. But our 
talented authoress never permits Jier Pegasus to out 
strip the concerns of life never forgets that the gen 
ius of poetry, though a native; of the wilds and moun 
tains; and though preferri :g lonely contemplation to 
the bustling and heartless concerns of traffic, is a "good 
genius," and regards the "busy hum of men," though 
sometimes with pity and regret, never with contempt 
or indifference. 

We are no admirers of that poetical temperament, 
which dwells with rapture upon the grandeur of na 
ture s inanimate works, and disregards the mysterious 
sublimity of God s immortal creatures. The secret of 
Homers success -(may we not say of the success of 
poetry, as synonymous terms;) is a clearness of images, 
which seizes upon the mind, and transfers it to the 
impress and conception? of his own fancy. His scenes 
ar~ what pictures ^re to the eye, or music to the ear. 
Without effort he unlocks the springs not of feeling 
alone but of sympathetic, social, worldly, feeling, 
if you choose and is read by every class with pre 
cisely the same effect. We consider this a peculiar 

206 HK.ilAlXS LlTUtAKV. &C 

merit, and worthy of being insisted upon in this ago 
*)f dreamy, diffuse, listless, rhyme-making. 

Ther i i in Mrs. llcmans poetry a calm, delicate 
and winning persuasiveness, that attracts without exci 
ting, interests without absorbing, and elicits, without 
harrowin", the feeling. It is the turillirig ptnver Kirk 
White lias sometimes exhibited, not the abrupt strength 
of Byron it is the serenity of Addison, not the pathos 
of Otway. This evinces a want of power of a par 
ticular cast, not an absence of poetic feeling. She is 
not obnoxious to the charge of downright apathy of 
chilling insensibility. The sentiments are calm, 
dreamy, chastened, as distinguished from the fantastic 
wiidncss, the vague abruptness, and the fervid extrav 
agance; which have too much become the tendency of 
the age. \Vc are gl:ul of it. and put it to account of 
her independence, and consciousness of true poetic 
power. Men require to be powerfully excited their 
sympathies must be inflamed, their imaginations strain 
ed and their feelings harrowed up. Stimulus has 
become their daily bread/ 5 and when the purer sort 
cannot be obtained; the grosser, or that of doubtful 
tendency, is not rejected. This is the fault of the age. 
and Mrs. Hemans deserves well for having successfully 
opposed it. 

The age is distinguished for its female writers. Until 
within comparatively a short period, a classical writer 
of that sex one that could aflix her stamp and impress 
to the literature of her country was almost, if not 
entirely, a "rura m," etc. True we have long had 
a Sevigne, a Montague and a Dacier. but they were 
rather literary triflers, than sturdy pioneers, or inhabi 
tants of the land; and wrote rather to show that they 
could write as well as men, than with any other object. 
The amount of their contributions is very small and 
might be destroyed without loss. 

Latterly this part of our literature has amazingly in 
creased both in quantity and quality. They have 


written much and well with a depth and compass of 
mind a richness and discrimination, which entitle 
them to a permanent niche in the literary fame of their 
country. Tlieir ohjvet has been to create a literature 
of a moral, e\ cry-day, practical cast: to rescue fiction 
from the ban Is of profligacy, to purify ethics from the 
discordant extremes of levity and sectarianism, and 
present to vice a polished surface, which it can neither 
parry nor resist. Our remark is matter of fact, not of 
inference; it is founded upon literary history familiar 
to all. N jcd \ve mention DC Stael, More, tkn-bauld, 
Stcele, E\;eworlh. Haillic, whose works with \hoscof 
our authoress, are in every body s hands? If Mrs. 
Hemans be inferior to some of these, she possesses an 
union of attractive qualities, which restores the balance 
of usefulness. If she is below Madame DC Stael ir\ 
capacity of thought in versatility of power and reach 
of imaginative strength: inferior to Miss Edgcworth in 
knowledge of the world, in wit, and happy descrip 
tion: surpassed by Hannah More in enthusiasm though 
we doubt it in glowing aspirations, and sublimated 
invention. she unites so many of their best, if not 
their very highest, attributes- that, though the com 
parison with any one may seem mispkccd, she richly 
deserves to be classed with those names, so honored 
by taste, piety, and usefulness. 

There is in Mrs. Hemans poetry a moral charm a 
tone of uniform, intellectual equilibrium a deep aw 
chastened tinge of feeling, full of bcauty---of nature 
of truthof thrilling yet delicate passion, that gives 
an uncommon and irresistible power to her strains, and 
totally disarms criticism. Moreover, there are other 
causes J--*ss connected with intrinsic merit, calculated to 
propitiate an American critic. She is a woman with 
which term we connect associations of a deep and ex 
tensive character. That intellectual inferioritywe 
use the term in a strict sense- --is not one of them, our 
preceding remarks have demonstrated. She is a 


native of a rival countryrival even in the feelings and 
sympathies of literary excellence: is attached, devo 
tedly attached, to our peculiar institutions: rejoices in 
our successful struggle for national existence: and has, 
what her -lords of the creation" have not the candor 
to acknowledge it. Thence we admire her genius, 
consider her success in some sort our own, and readily 
pay our unimportant tribute of praise. We say unim 
portant for. if we mistake not the deep religious sen 
timent, the tone of sorrowful feeling, tempered with 
placid resignation, that pervade her writings she ha* 
DtCfl no stranger to misfortune. She "hears her facul 
ties meekly f * there is no parade of learning no 
tincture of conceit hut a strain of devotion, and a holy 
enthusiasm, which rest upon higher favor, and depend 
not upon human applause. 

Mrs. Hcmans, in common with European writers, 
has reaped but little benefit from the extensive perusal 
her works have obtained in this country. An edition 
of her works intended for her benefit, was contempla 
ted some years since, but was relinquished, we believe, 
through cupidity and want of generous forbearance in 
rival publishers. Why does not one of our many highly 
gifted females undertake to edit her entire production*, 
which now exist, scattered in numerous small volumes, 
and thus pay a small tribute to an individual, who }\^ 
in no small degree contributed to exalt the female char 
acter for Ulent and sensibility? 


"The King s Secret," by the author of the "Lost 
Heir; is one of the best novels of the day. We know 
nothing of the former effort of this writer, nor indeed 
in relation to himself, can we tell his quo nomine dicaru. 
but he need not be ashamed to avow the paternity of 


his bantling. The time chosen for the introduction of 
his characters upon the tn/jis. is a period of British 
history, rich in chivalric legend, enveloped in that 
degree of uncertainty which admits of an artificial 
superstructure without shocking probability, or \iola- 
ting facts and n (Fording a mine of ore readily wrought 
up into fictions narrative, yet. comparatively, uniircath- 
ed upon. The plot is rcmarkahly well laidregular, 
yet deeply interestingvarious, yet in p.r r cct keep 
ing. The scenes do not succeed each other \\ith suf 
ficient rapidity, and are sometimes drawn out to tcdi- 
ousness:---thcy grow out of each other, however, with 
a probability, that avoids any rails upon the imagina 
tion of the reader for assisjuiCv . and present nothing 
abrupt in the srrirx hinr.ra cumtarttHi, which is by no 
means a common excellence. His characters, with 
the exception of the /f/wv//v/, present nothing very 
striking. They are. houever, by contrast, analogy, 
accurate discrimination, and the scenes in which they 
figure, fully developed. The conduct of the plot is 
admirable- --the events probable, and well explained--- 
(the title is, by the bye, a misnomer) and some of the 
more stirring incidentsthe attack upon the Kir.vard, 
for cxar.iple---fully equal to the efforts of \Vaverly in 
the same line. Our author evinces considerable inti 
macy with antiquarian lore, in the costume, armor, and 
Hcraliiric devices of his knights. \Vc welcome this 
no\vl. though not of the first order, nor evincing great 
power in its conception, as a returning relish for the 
chaste and natural productions of Scott, (though his 
style is by no means unexceptionable, nor his greatest 
merit) in preference to the powerful and fascinating, 
but artificial and flcetinc:, styl , which Bvtwer has in 
troduced, and of which he has already fo.indcd a school 
of imitators. His (Rulwcr s) first effort (Pclham) ap 
peared like a new star in the firmament-- -it attracted 
the gaze of the reading community at once. It wa* in 
a new style- -abound ing in epigram, antithesis, and 



repartee profuse in powerful declamatiou, brilliant 
episodes, and feeling soliloquy. But the best sketched 
of character Sir Reginald Glanville, for example- 
are descriptions not creations. He analyzes their 
characters details their feelings and supplies them 
with eloquent declamation. But this is all. Then* 
are none of those touches of nature those spontaneous 
and involuntary acts, which at a flash open the deepest 
recesses of the" heart, and make us at once acquainted 
with the individual before us. Mr. Bulwers subse 
quent productions are in the same style- --and inferior 
to his first in delineation of character, and interesting 
incident. The same command of language attic wit- 
deep feeling remain; but there is little variety* and 
no improvement. Mr. Bulwer is a man of powerful 
intellect classical taste, and great imaginatiou:--aud 
were he to relinquish the fashionubknt ss of his man 
nerhis perpetual declamation and dreamy epi 
sodesmight well make Sir Walter look to his laurels. 
But his faults are those of the age. To be satisfied of 
it, we need only turn to the novels, essays, and reviews 
of the day? the productions, too, of minds of no ordi 
nary capacity. To answer the popular call for novel 
tv, our writers are stimulated to sacrifice simple dic 
tion, for intense and abrupt phraseologycorrect and 
chastened thought, for bold arid daring sentiments.--- 
mature, laborious composition and cautious correction 
for hasty and unequal eflbrts---rcsigning future fame, 
for present notoriety and profit. To this all-absorbing 
thirst after public; favor, which hurries our authors to 
surpass in the rapidity of production, even the avidity 
of their readers to peruse their works, we attribute 
(what to us appeal s to be) the fate of far the greater 
part of the innumerable works of the day temporary 
fame final oblivion. How many of the volumes, un 
der which the press daily groans, will be referred to 
as standards of taste, style, or sentiment, in the twen 
tieth century? What Martial said of the MSS of hi- 


day, may be repeated now with tenfold truth "Sunt 
pauca bonasunt qwedam mcliorasunt phtrima 
mala. ---It cannot escape the most superficial observer, 
that, of late, our language lias degenerated from its 
form ?r strength and comparatively attic simplicity, in 
to dilFuseness, tinsel, and meretricious ornament: that 
to its philosophic regularity has succeeded uncontrol 
led innovationand tbat there can scarcely be found 
an anomaly, which has not been introduced by writers 
of the last quarter of a ccittury. Hut we pause being 
in danger of wandei ing into a corollary by no means 
warranted hv our text. 


We have just risen from the perusal of the Yowig 
Duke" by the author of Vivian Grey. It is a beauti 
ful biographical sketch of a naturally strong mind and 
noble disposition, perverted by a vascillating and fan 
tastic disposition and turned from its original bent by 
reckless self-indulgence. It may fairly be placed by 
the side of "/W/w;?j ---by far the best production of 
the talented Bulwer. In passages of thrilling elo 
quence, and bursts of irresistible comic cflcct, it is 
superior its sentiment is vague and dreamy, or fan 
tastic, foppish and strait-laced- -and, in this respect, it 
is inferior to the work in question, which it sometimes 
obviously imitates. The fire and animationthe play 
fulness and waggery, that run through the whole, are 
admirably sustained, and show the polished gentleman 
of wit, taste and fashion. With the alternate jest and 
morality, the irresistible humor succeeded by thrilling 
pathos, shew a practised pen which touches at will 

A portion of lh irtirle will b found elsewhere. We have, in the Me 
moir, referred to ihcM repetitioai. and eodMToared to MeowM for, though 
M* thorn. 


the hidden springs of feeling and wields the lighter 
details of fashionable skirmishing with an ease and ele 
gance that we in vain look for even in Waverly himself. 
But the literary bijuntvric is laid on with too great 
profusion; and deprives the work of that simplicity 
and unaffected grace which renders Scott despite 
their unbounded wit and clcgffnt display of knowledge- 
superior to all his COmpetitOrt in those sterling requi- 
sites which udherc, and indeed, are never fully devel 
oped until a second perusal. The devclopemcnt of 
the plot in the Young Duke* is wawkring and in- 
t Truptcd hut verging to a point by bright and 
desultory incidents, but unerring certainty. The style 
\NC seriously dread as of contagious example. It is 
artificial replete with metapHor brilliant with epi 
grambut united with that eternal trifling that 
strait-laced literary dandyism* around which the author 
of *-l J elham" has thrown a charm, which will for a 
while delude imitators into nia\\kish, fantastic, and 
strained incidents, abrupt style, affected phraseolo 
gy, until the public shall have been dosed- -usque utf 
m/t/m//// and then they will appreciate, and return 
to, the chaste and natural descriptions of Scott, and 
to the legitimate landmarks of pints healthy English, 
which, in the foreign foppery of fashionable novels, 
arc sndlv overthrown or mutilated. 

In this last effort, Mr. D lsraeli, (who is beyond, 
the allotted age, by several years.) seems to have had 
an //ic/icm sumiiier* in the winter of his life, and a** 
suov\ invigorates the sear and famished root, to havi 
acquired increased vivacity by the temporary slug 
gishness in the current of his veins. In point an<! 
sprightliness, and in splendor and variety of incident, 
it is superior to his former attempt: in sentiment, 
elegance of dialogue, and delicacy .of retort---it is in 
ferior. The conclusion appears to have been care 
lessly written, nor can \vc account for the clumsiiic^ 
of the tclaircissement between Herbert Dae re ami 


Lady Caroline. We intended to have made some ex 
tracts, but, though passives of great beauty, of 
attractive playfulness, and deep interest, are profusely 
scattered over the work, they depend so much upon 
contrast with each other, peculiar situation, and dra 
matic incident, that they lose much of their o fleet 
when detached. We content ourselves with one 
Which affords a favorable specimen of our author s 

-First love, first love! how many a glowing bard has 
s,ng thy beauties! How many n poor Ail of* a proving 
novelist, like myself, has echoed all our superiors, the poet< 
teach us! No doubt, thon rosy K od of young desire thou 
art a most bewitching little demon; and" vet for mv nart 
give me last love. 

"Ask a man which turned out best, the first horse he bought 
or the one he now canters on? Askbut in short there is 
nothing in which knowledge is more important, and experi 
ence more valuable than in love. When we first love, we 
are enamored of our own imaginations. Our thoughts are 
high, our feelings rise from out the deepest caves of the 
tumultuous tide of our full life. We look aroUnd for one to 
share our exquisite existence, and sanctify the beauties of 
our being. 

<Hut those beauties are only in our thoughts. We feel like 
heroes when we arc but boys. Vet our mistress must bear 
a relation, not to ourselves, but to our imagination. She 
must be a real heroine, while our perfection is but ideal 
And the quick and dangerous fancy of our race will rise to 
the pitch. She is all we can conceive. Mild and pure as 
youthful priests, we bow down before our altar. But the 
idol to which we breathe our warm and gushing vows, and 
bend our eager knees, all its power, does it not exist only 
in our idea all its beauty, is it not the creation of our own 
cxritcd fancy? And then the sweetest of superstitions ends. 
The long delusion bursts, and we are left like men upon a 
heath when fairies vanish; cold and dreary, gloomy, bitter, 
harsh; existence teems a blunder. 

"But just when we are most miserable, and curse the poets 
cunning and our own conceits, there lights upon our path, 
just like a ray fresh from the sun, some sparkling child of 
light, that makes us think we are premature, at least in our 

AINii L11LHAK\, C. 

resolve. Vel we arc determined not to he taken iu, ami try 
her well in all the points in which the others failed. One 
by one her charms steal on our warming soul, as one by one, 
those of the other heauty sadly stole away, and then wo 
bless our stars, and feel quite sure that we have found per- 
lection in a petticoat." 


\Ve have skimmed over this last effort of our distin 
guished countryman, Irving, hut are not of opinion that 
it will make any addition to his already lofty, and rich 
ly earned, eminence. As a record of the quaint man 
ners of the remnant of a people fast falling to decay, its 
beautiful sketches and occasional graphic touches of 
character may render it curious, but even here its 
sketchy and fury texture makes it of little real weight 
or value. We suspect it is little more than our author s 
ordinary journal, not originally intended for the public* 
but imperceptibly accumulating on his hands, and in 
creasing in the richness of its contents, until it became 
necessary to relieve himself of the mass, and the mass 
became sufficiently valuable to be thrown off in this 
form. Mr. Irving, has, therefore, put forth a book; 
and this, we infer from external evidence, is the history 
of the sketches before us. It is an off-hand, currcnfe 
ralatno, travelling effort, written without design or la 
bor, and strung together, like loose pearls simply to 
keep them from being lost. Viewing it in this light, 
the "Tales of the Alhambra," however little they may- 
add to, can detract nothing from, the high reputation 
of our countryman. 

The first one hundred and fifty pages are devoted to 
a description of the "Alhambra," its appearance, ex 
terior and interior, its ancient government and state, 
its inhabitants, and its chief courts, halls and balco- 


nies, the rest of the work is taken np with legends, 
superstitions, etc. relative to the building and its seve 
ral parts. The opening one hundred and odd pages 
are a blemish to the work dull, diffuse, circumstan 
tial.* Our author d* scribes with the same particularity 
with which he examined he amplifies until he becomes 
vague and individuality is destroyed, and heaps up 
particulars, until the general impression is weakened. 
All the local information necessary could be conveyed 
in one fifth the space and to better effect, and the 
particulars would both have enlisted the interest of the 
reader, and avoided repetition, by being introduced 
under their proper head, in the local legends, when 
they would have appeared important and been fixed in 
the memory by interesting association; whereas, where 
they stand, they are isolated and without interest. 
The subjects too arc not such as to call forth great 
power: fairy legends must be essentially light, flippant, 
and, to?, degree, childish. They do not even admit of 
our author s peculiarly graceful tact in sketching, nor 
the full flow of his delicate humor. The portraits, 
too in such a work must be grave and. at the same time, 
trifling: for where unearthly agency is admitted, 
human characters are secondary and not worth draw 
ing with a nervous hand. Accordingly, wherever he 
deviates from the routine of fairy tale telling, and per 
mits, as he often does, the full play of his delicately 
sarcastic wit, he ceases to be an inhabitant of "faery 
lande" we forget his new character, and commune 
with our old friend of "Knickerbocker," and the most 
racy portions of the first "Sketch Book." This work 
will be read as extensively as any of its author s pre 
vious productions, and, we trust, may afford him a 

But w oot Urn same difliwencs* and particularity strong aa-d leading fea 
ture in all the writings of this gentleman? What are the stories and current 
narrative* of the Sketch Book, Bracebridge Halt, lie. but the accounts of 
thing* and events of moderate interest, needle**)? carried ot to a particularity 
which * tfldioM ; and in a strain am* OMMKT better muring to be atyfed rn- 
ftmenfsWtry than Mttiment 


harvest more substantial than fame, of which he has 
already reaped his full share in two continents in one 
with a single co-laborer hut, we think, criticism will 
nettle down into the opinion we have advanced, that it 
is a merc^V/i tP es//rit. which, however pleasing in its 
way, can udd nothing to a reputation already so great. 


Or a sojourn in the Old JJontinioH. 

Our country, fruitful as she is in legend, historic 
record, and diversity of character, can never want 
writers of fiction, and, as a proof of it, we would ad 
duce this work, the production, it is said, of J. L. Ken 
nedy, Esq. a member of the Baltimore bar, upon a 
theme apparently barren, and almost impracticable to 
the mould of the novelist. Our author has succeeded 
however, in creating a delightful domestic talc, and 
enveloping very meagre materials in considerable inte 
rest, which increases with the progress of the story 
throughout a plot exceedingly simple, and requiring 
from the sketchy, disjointed, journal-like charac 
ter of the book, little or no attention and man 
agement. This novel if it fall under the class 
is by no means of the fust order even of Ameri 
can works of fiction; it exhibits none of Cooper s 
living scenery, thrilling description, and abrupt, start 
ling transition: Irving s delicate attic wit, sparkling 
bijouterie and Addbonian style, are no where to be 
seen; and of Brockden Brown s manner it is the per 
fect antipodes. Still it has merit of no ordinary cha 
racter, and nsa departure from the fashionable slip-shod 
style of the day, deserves to be hailed as ominous of ,\ 
returning taste for placid life, natural descriptions and 
ordinary events, over the high-wrought scenes, unna 
tural sentiment, and distorted pictures of life, which 


disfigure the powerful, but from their presenting no 
impress of the times, necessarily short-lived, produc 
tions of the new school; which has trodden on the heels 
of the great Waverly. Our author s style is simple, 
careless, and even loose, hut there is an idiomatic 
turn of expression pervading it, which is as delightful, 
as it is uncommon. Of wit he exhibits nothing, and his 
humor .j of the broad caricature order, which is well 
adapted to the scenes and characters he describes. 
As a journal of domestic events, Mr. Kennedy s hook 
is a perfect picture of the hearty hospitality of the Old 
Dominion, and as a record of manners fast falling into 
decay, and a memento of a class almost extinct, it will 
be a source of great gratification a century hence, and 
an interesting repository to the antiquarian. 


These -Conversations/ together with an essay or 
two, and several fancy sketches, are attributed by their 
American publisher (for they have not appeared in 
this form across the Atlantic) to the accomplished au 
thor of "Pclham," and the internal evidence furnished 
by them leaves no doubt of their paternity. The dia 
logue is easy, sketchy and perfectly characteristic, 
abounding less in antithesis, and ambitious metaphor, 
less in abrupt and conceited sentiment. less in inver 
ted style and meretricious ornament, and entirely 
exempt from that strait-laetd literary dandyism, which 
is the great blemish of our author s manner. At the 
same time, we have no small portion of that delicate 
tact, that sprightly bijouterie, that elegant trifling uni 
ted to profound reflection, which characterize his rf- 
forts, and infinitely outweigh all. and they are not a 
few, of the minor objections. We do not mean that 



this vork is to be put by the side of "Pelham, w but we 
assert, that if its beauties be not as striking, its faults 
are fewer, that our author has reformed his style of 
late, or that there was a time, when he wrote more 
naturally, which we are glad to know, GS it affords 
ground for hope that he may do so in future. Mr. 
Bulwer is evidently a man of powerful imagination, 
extensive knowledge, classical acquirements, and deep 
observation, but his taste, or rather the fashionable 
taste of the day for which lie caters is essentially 
factitious and corrupt. Let him but reform its affected 
fastidiousness its sickly sentiment its preference of 
abrupt style and daring phraseology over chastened 
and correct thought let him but "reform it alto 
gether," and write but as nature and his own genius 
prompt him, and he may well make Sir Walter look to 
his laurels. 



Hail, generous Patrons of the Drama s arts, 
Once more we greet you with devoted hearts. 
We bid you welcome to the mimic scene, 
Its worlds of painted life, and fields of green 
Its wilds oi thought, where vagrant fancies play, 
Where Nature wooes and wand ring poets stray. 
Its classic groves, and bow rs by magic wrought.. 
And all its stores of song, and mighty thought! 

Long o er these realms of wealth had Darkness trod, 
A gloomy tyrant an usurping God 
And hallow d learning half forgot her sway, 
Her glorious empire blotted from the day 
In dreams oblivious sacred Poiisy slept, 
Her groves deserted and her lyre-unswcpt; 
Till, bursting through the gloom, the Drama rose, 
And, at her glance, a new creation glows! 
There, clust ring round, obedient to her will, 
The soul s strong pas? ions her behests fulfil; 
Remorse, in tears, and Mirth, with laughter lit 
Hate with its haggard sneer, and bright-^yM Wit 
Despair that haunts wild glen and lonely stream, 
And cherub Love, that warms the maiden s dream. 
The phantom troopa, around her altar throng, 
And lead in chains the willing slaves along 
By toils severe the Drama school d the age, 
And Virtue taught her lessons from the stage. 

In western wilds, within the unbroken shade, 
Ere Learning sanctioned laws which Freedom made, 
Or, Reason form d, in one harmonious plan, 
The social rules which bind discordant man. 


The Stage arose and even the savage mind, 
Lov d the high scene, and sought to be reiiu d. 

The Bard of Avon led the deathless band, 
Who struck and taught the lyre in liritish land 
The ehequer d realms of earth his spells obey, 
And the stern tomb resigns its ravish d prey 
And spectres ri!e and sheeted ghosts appear, 
\\ith scorpions anu d to startle guilt with fear. 
Now, wild Ambition final* it vain to trust 
To sculptured stone, and monumental dust, 
Yet though the urn be crush d, the lyre unstrung, 
On whose proud note the world delighted hung, 
The scythe of Chrouos, though the world it sweeps, 
Shall spare the hallo w d spot where Shakspeare sleep?. 

To point the efforts of the aspiring Muse, 

To Virtue s, Honor s praise as noblest use, 

To be us by th immortal Hard detin d 

The unerring mirror oi the human mind, . 

Kjrh folly limn, and, with ail colours true, 

rioihe Error in her vain and native hue 

To win new muses, and awake new strains, 

And win the old from well-remember d plains, 

In Freedom s land to rear some classic bays, 

And leave a name of pride to other days 

This be the aim of our aspiring age, 

These be the works and triumphs of our Stage. 

Indulgent Patrons! in your hands we trust 

The JLirama s fortunes to the charge be just. 

To rear an inlant stage, on you we call, 

For by your verdict it must rise or fall 

To all its faults we would not have you blind, 

Hut look with gentle brow and pirit kind- 

Though lii-re, on feeble wing the Muse may rise, 

Feebly at first, and fearful of the skies, 

Vet with your plaudits t-heerM, a bolder flight, 

Shall win your hearts in wonder and delight 

And in her walU, by your warm bounty fed, 

Some Shakspeare yet may sing some Garrick tretd; 

Some glorious Siddons passion s fire impart, 

Some Kemble wing a shaft to every heart. 


in this thrice favoured clime, where deathless fame, 
Prompts the young mind, and lights up glory s flame, 
Land of chivalric deeds where sprang of old. 
The statesman, wise and true the warrior, bold 
Where golden Ceres wi .h profusivc hand, 
Scatters her bounties o er the teeming land 
And Natrrc, lavish still of life and light, 
Decks the rich realms the Genoese brought to sight, 
Here bring your legions, and your standard plant 
And make your lore enchain, your lyre enchant! 

Oil, from these happy shores be banished far, ,* 
The gloom ot death, the frenzied shriek of war 
And wild ambition, fated to pursue. 
The vision glory, with his demon crew. 
May peace forever more with plenty shine, 
And bless the land that consecrates the Nine; 
And here, where Commerce spreads her wide domain. 
lie lix d the splendours of the Muse s reign. 

Oh, vain yc masters whom we all obey, 
If you prove adverse, is our Poet s lay 
Though you receive not, yet extend delight, 
And grant indulgence to our toils to-night 
O er all our errors draw the guardian veil 
Nor let the sterner, critic mood, assail 
Not free from failing, hope we to appear, 
Vet honest effort claims some favour here 
You whose applause we value more than gold, 
And in just the equal balance hold, 
Still keep in view the Drama s noblest end, 
And be at once the Censor and the Friend. 


The universal passion, pride, 
I las surely never spread so wide, 
As now, when every dunce, in arms, 
Would storm Apollo with alarms; 
And raging rash, in rankest lays, 
Would snatch and steal reluctant bays 


? Tis Horace say* a man of wit 
"Pocta nascitur non fit 
The maxim a stale, but would you know it, 
You are not made, but born, a roet 
Tis prose enough, and hence tis here, 
Since men may prose it every where. 

The meanest brute by Nature made, 
Securely plods his proper trade, 
Nor, by strange follies led astray, 
Pops, ever, in his neighbor s way 
Who ever saw a hog romantic, 
A bear forever at an antic? 

Alas these may no models be, 
For all the monsters I hat we see, 
And Hoohies now make daily use*, 
Of I);in Apollo and the Muses; 
In wit, and in their nature s spite, 
Disdain to think yet dare to writt. 

With wit and judgment unendowed, 
Still captious, ignorant and loud 
Each modern Midas shakes his ears, 
And chatters to the vexed spheres, 
Void of all sense as wcl 1 as shame, 
Heneath rebuke, beyond reclaim. 

To mend the manners and the mind, 
The poci jj art was well designed; 
To point the height where glory fliei, 
And teach presumption to be wise 
The Muse appeared with heavenly strain, 
And lill d the warm enthusiast s brain. 

Shall these high oflices of thought, 

These glorious duties then he nought 

While spirits base, and bio kheads dull 
Presume their choicest spoils to cull 
Apollo, cast aside thy lyre, 

And let thine arrows speak thine ire. 

To notice dullness would be vain 


"The loss would be exceeding gain." 
Respite thy brnin thou shouldst not try. 
"Upon the wheel lo crush the fly;" 
"He this our motto and our fate, 
Hated by fools, and fools to hate/* 


Lx)ok upon the winter hearth, 
What a scene of careless mirth, 
Yonder go a thoughtless round, 
Whirling at the viol s sound; 
There, is many a wanton fairy, 
Wit i light heart and footsteps airy; 
With no thought upon the morrow, 
Things that never yet knew sorrow. 

There are some of riper years, 
1 uight, melhinks, in human tares. 
Yet they look with grateful sight, 
On the whirling ring s delight 
Care has lesson d to be kind, 
And has mcUow d well each mind, 
Till their very griefs become, 
Gentle teachers for their home. 

These are small ond humble joys, 
But their presence never cloys 
Though they come with every night, 
Still their presence brings delight 
Memory has not lost its pow r, 
And the old survey the hour, 
When like those that wander by, 
They too had their revelry. 

Tis t pleasant song and play, 
Those who know then* well, may sty, 
Which the wrought and anxicus ear, 
Listens ever more to hear 
That same song by winter sung, 
Uttered forth by childhood s tongoe. 


That same Fport, when none would tire, 
Hound the good old winter i\rc. 

Never may the open brow, 
Or, the heart that s joyous now, 
Or, the wild and wanton dream, 
Or, the gay, unflickering beam, 
Or, the footstep light and airy, 
Find the future visionary 
Twere a Poet s sweetest pray r, 
That their fortunes should be fair. 


What shall compass Beauty s dow r 
Who shall sing of Beauty s power 
Who is weak that Beauty arms 
Who is dull that Beauty charms? 
Though the Minstrel slumber long, 
Beauty wakes him into Song; 
All his human hands she breaks, 
All his heavenly ardor wake?, 
Bids him ride on eagle wings, 
Soaring to celestial things. 

In her bow r long days he lies, 
Raptures scaling up his eyes, 
Till she prompt him with a glance, 
And he lifts the lyre and lance; 
Throws aside his apathy, 
Learns to live and dares to die, 
Nor the storm, nor piercing wind, 
Stays the ardour of his mind. 

From his limbs the locks are hurPd, 
And he rushes o er the world; 
All his spirits now awaken, 
From his eye the scales are taken, 
And his living song it* given, 
To that brightest form of heaven; 
To the world s eye she is shown, 


\ As her charms have fiWM his own, 
VTill, as mad as he who siogs, 
AH the million put on wings, 
Soaring for the embodied glory, 
Of that wild eyed Poet s story. 

They would compass Beauty s dow>, 
They would witness Beauty s pow r, 
They would revel in her arms, 
Blest with all her sacred charms 
But she keeps the charms and spell, 
For the bard who sings them well; 
Though, for him, the prince of verse, 
They are yet the care and curse 
She has bound him in her chain, 
And he never sings again, 
Ruling not his fellow men, 
He has lost his empire then 
Hush d the lyre that once delighted, 
And the wreath of bay is blighted. 


When is set the orb of day, 
And the moon with placid light 
Cheers the lonely traveller s way 
Mid the darkness of the night 

When the bright stars beaming through, 
And along each waving pine, 
Scatter d o er the trackless blue, 
In the spacious azure shine 

When the drowsy earth is still, 
And no single jarring sound, 
Save the trickling of the rill, 
Breaks the spell of silence round 

With perhaps, the sullen moan, 
When the prosing owl would sing. 


Or the whizzing bat alone, . 
On hia dark and dragon-wing: 

Then I wander forth alone, 
Not alone for round me throng* 
Fairy elves of foreign tone, 
And with spirit speech and soog 

They are mine and in my heart, 
All its longings they supply, 
Till my apirit fain would dart 
Upward with them to the sky. . 

Let the garish glance of Jay, 
Livelier senses still delight, 
J Ti* my mood to rather stray, 
In the stillness of the night. 

Flitting fancies guide me on, 
Mazy wilds and waters through, 
Echo, ever and anon, 
Playful, bidding me pursue. 

Be the night my province still, 
She will aid my soaring wing, 
With her I shall gain the hill, 
And the sacred spring. 


Though young in years, in wisdom hoary, 
Sworn foe alike to Whig and Tory, 
Serene I mount the upper story, 

And thence look down, 
With towering grandeur, ease and glory, 

On this town. 

In soiled shirt, and tattered breeches, 
Disdaining worldly power and riches, 
For others wealth my palm ne er itches, 
But wields at will, 


That source of poems, songs tnd speeches, 
My "grey goose quill!" 

Oh, sacred weapon! Source of pleasure! 
The dunces scourge! the poet s treasure! 
Alone, exempt from legal seizure 

Thy channfe delight 
My mind by day, and sweetly measure 

My dreams by night. 

Like thec, self-buoyant, firm and steady, 

HI y the as - on May day* 

!) College Fresh let loose on play day, 

I careless snore 
K en thee, vociferous, cursed pay day, 

I hear no more. 

My pleasing prospects never vary, 
My spirits rarificd and airv, 
No Fortunatus, witch or fairy, 

Can mend my diet: 
Not D - in his Barataryj 

Rcign d half so quiet. 

Ve Poets! mark the truths I teach, 
Strive all Parnassus heights to reach, 
Nor heed what groundling Poets preach 

Of fame and glory; 
VVho seeks for attic wit must reach 

The attic story ! 



While other bards their homage pay, 
And celebrate thy natal day 
While swains upon thy virtues dwell, 
And gallants of thy beauties tell 
A bumble bard, with downcast look, 
W* u ld sing the virtue* of thy book 


No minstrel he, with genius strong, ^ 
To mount up in the realms of song, 
But one, who* in his utmost pride. 
Still creeps along the mountain side 
His highest hope, with timid pen, 
To scribble of thy Album then. 

Now, while its leaves are free from stain, 
An emblem of thyself we gain; 
The pages free from spot appear, 
And teach us, thou, like them, art fair. 
Thine \ the gentle cherub s part, 
And shadowlcss thy hin<: and heart. 

Hut when with sable streams o erspreaJ, 
Hope s brightest visions here are read; 
And Friendship conies with genial smile, 
And Love, beguil d, and tc beguile 
And pensive Thought, with evening ray, 
Rejoiced at their harmonious play. 

Oh, may thy young heart feel the power, 
Of each of these in every hour 
While Hope, etherial, conies to charm, 
And Love adores with ardour warm 
And Truth, well known, beside thee stands. 
And hears, and heeds, and links your hands. 

Oh, may the cflrrent of thy days, 

Unlike the minstrel s idle lays, 

Ih sweet composure glide along, 

A calm, uninterrupted, song, 

\Vhose nates, like those that swell above, 

Still cheer with peace, and charm with love! 


When appears the God of Light, 
In his high imperial car, 

Driving with unmeasured flight. 
The o erladen night alar 


Gathering up, in sullen haste, 

^A!l her gloomy trnin she flics, 
While, with hues more gentle graced, 

Laughs the blue and beaming skies 
And the weeping mists are fled, 

And the chill and shade are gone, 
And each bird from out his bed, 

Singing, hails the gathering sun. 
And, though lately sad with tears, 

Nature, like a blushing flow r, 
In her bridal dress appears, 

Laughing in a summer bow r 
There, a daisy lifts its brow, 

Thither speeds a vagrant l>rceze, 
And a squirrel on yon bough, 

Shakes the dew-prarls from the trees; 
While, with modest joy elate, 

Two sweet warblers sit above, 
With a low and tender prate, 

Conning o er their store* of love- 
These have lessons in the lore, 

Which the listning soul may find, 
If, by all untaught before, 

Which may well supply the mind- 
Nature, with a kindly sense, 

Grateful to the student s si^ht, 
Teaches the intelligence, 

And the rapture born of light. 
With this Ie*6on taught I rise 

Over humbler earth s control 
Guided to my native skies, 

Fearless, by the seeing -soul. 


pleasant visions iu the mother s mind, 
Fill with sweet cares and ecstacies refin d, 
And Hope s fair promises, with calm control, 
W.-.rm, with the future prospect, til her soul 
While all the thoughts which animate her breast. 
The purest dreams of happiness attest 


May lhat great Providence who rules on high, 
Look gently downwards with approving eye 
Nor pause to junction the sweet hopes that rise, 
Within her soul, and fill with tears her eyes. 
Still, o er her babe, as anxiously she bends. 
And, with her hope, a doubt of -sorrow blends, 
Dispel the care, whose dark and deadly mien, 
Would dull the vision and deface the* scene. 

Oh, identic mother, with thy soul of truth, 

Slill tend his childhood and inform his youth, 

And, till secure from human sin and strife, 

Direct in sweet simplicity his life--- 

Kre the dark blights of future grief arise, 

To blight the garden scene and cloud the skies, 

When yout!) attends with all its golden hues, 

Its theme of love, its worship of the Muse, 

Its thousand strings of thought* its fleeting rays, 

Its love of fleeting powtfr its thirst of praise- 

Through your aflections still, by nature taught, 

As great in action, and as pure in thought, 

Let solid joys, that may not disappear, 

And works that fleet not with the fleeting year* 

Hequite tin* present toil, all toils above, 

And every harvest home bring joy and love. 


How pleasantly sweet is the fond recollection 

Of youthful attachments, unscathed with alldy, 
When the heart, haply freed from each painful reflection; 

Reverts back to days of its earliest joy. 
When frolic and gay, whh the spirit of childhood, 

The form roved at once where its memory flew, 
By the wandering stream, by the thicket and wild wo<al< 

And every dear Scene, that its infancy knew. 

Oh, why are we doomed, when the bloom is all banish d. 

Which Hebe in youth threw around the young heart, 
When the blush of the flowers forever is vanished, 

And the odour all gone, to behold them depart! 


To linger behind nnd to see in the distance, 

The glorion? phantoms, all fleet ins;, of youth 

To cherish a sad and a single existence. 

With nothing to seek and with nothing to soothe. 

And fled from my grasp arc the joys of my childhood. 

And faded the visions that shone at. its morn 
I rove midst the bower, I roam in the wild wood, 

And seeking their flox. rets, I find but the thorn. 
Ah, wherefore thus seek since the pleasures are faded, 

Ah, wherefore desire, nor boldly depart 
Tis but folly to gaze where the prospect is shaded. 

But madness to nourish a Mill breaking heart. 


Dear to the storm troubled seaman at even, 

Is the silver lamp in the azure heaven 

Dnar to the warrior, strewn with the slain, 

Is the field of his triumph, the red battle plain-- 

Dcar to the exile, long destined to roam, 

Is the twinkling lamplight that beams from his home- 

And dear to the slave by his tyrant oj press d, 

To sink on his lowly couch to rest. 

Dcai to all is the morning s light. 
Dear the sky-lark s upward flight 
Dear the minstrel s airy spell, 
And his sprite-encompass d cell; 
Where, the pleasant wood-nymphs rove, 
,\nd the bow rs have each a love, 
With a magic rich and rare, 
Making dearest things more dear. 

Dear to valour is the strife. 

Where the victim pleads for the forfeit life} 

Dear to mercy is the tear, 

That tells of the plaint, and the granted prayer* 

Dear to wild ambition s eye, 

Is the battle s fearful pagaantry ; 


More dear the spoils of the foughten field, 
Where the gallant die, and the dastards yield. 

Hut brighter far than morning s beam, 
And wilder far than the Poet s dream; 
And milder than the young moon s ring, 
And softer than the breath of spring 
And sweeter than note of the early lark, 
And prouder than valour whose deeds are dark, 
And dearer than all that others may prove, 
Are the thousand charms of the maid I love. 


Sweet power, whose high and heavenly art, 
Flings gladness o er the dreaming heart, 
And when each pleasure leaves the mind 
Still linger st with thy ray behind, 
And shinest fair a beacon light 
To guide us thro the gloom of night 
How come thy pleasing hues to bless, 
And cheer life s weary wilderness! 
Can wisdom with its boasted power 
Compare with that etherial hour, 
When Hope s presaging eagle eye 
Pierces thro dark futurity; 
And all her glorious hues unfurl d, 

Illumes and lightens up the world? 

* * 

Man wand ring on a desert clime, 
Welcomes thy influence divine, 
And hails with rapture from afar, 
The lightning of thy brilliant star, 
Which whispers in each surge a sail, 
And voices in each sighing gale 
Glance quick," she cries, "thy straining eye 
O er yon dark sea; a barge is nigh, 
Which waits the beckoning of thy hand, 
To waft thee from this dismal strand, 
To that dear clime, where roses shed 
Sweet fragrance from their tufted bed. 


And friendship s voice in soothing strains 

Shall heal thy lonely woes and pains!" 

The dreamer hears! a hrilliant light 

Now bursts upon his dazzled sight! 

His native home appears in view 

In all its vivid colourings true; 

The hawthorn hedge, the ivied oak. 

The jas minc bow r and pebbly brook; 

The porch with woodbine tendrils bound 

Thc^very spot each shrub around 

I ike magic mirror to his gaze 

Reflect I he joys of by-gone days, * * 

The dreamer flics, and in his haste 

The wicket-gale is quickly past;* 

The door is gained all aJI is done, 

A mother s ki5s salutes her son 

lie feels a father s fond embrace 

A sister s tears bedew his face, 

And love s warm gu?h the spirit cheered 

Where lately grief her throne had reared. 


Alas! an envious crash withdrew 
The sainted image from his view! 
His dream is past the shadow vain 
No longer cheers his burning; brain. 


Time speeds -time speeds, and though I cannot be, 

The watcher of thy years, and see them glide, 

With a still onwards and unslumberihg tide, 

To the wide ocean of Eternity, 

Yet would I note that day s return, which tells, 

Warm in my heart that thought, even now, which swells. 

Till you or 1, or both of us are dust 

We met in childhood s happy hours, 
When our young hearts were gay, 
We lightly trod on Spring s sweet flowers. 
Which faded soon away 

Again we meet, when fancy (lings, 
Her shadowy form around us, 



.> * 

When pleasure plumes her golden wing*| 
And scenes of bliss surround us. 

The wildest glow of gentrous jty , 
Which Nature scatters o er them, 
Time s ruthless hand will soon destroy. 
And stay oot to deplore them. 

Those joys, which youthful feelings heighten, 
And scorn the vulgar shade: 
Those beams, which childhood s Tisions brighten, 
Like morning light must fade. * 

The rainbow bursting thro* the clouds 
Which dim the early day, 
Dispels whatever its splendor shrouds* 
And vanishes away. 

The morning opens to the gaze 
A fair and glorious sight, 
But all its bright etherial rays 
Are soon dispersed in night. 

l<ady, o\ir early care is gone V 

Ere we could count the hour*, 
And neither now may hasten op 
To pluck the loveliest flowers. 

Gay morning gives us back the day It/-*;!. /. OT 

Which charm d our eyes before, 

But when our youth has fled away, k *\ 

What should stern Time restore? 

What but the youth and loveliness, 
Like Spring flow rs frail and fleet 
The beauty and the comeliness, 
TJhat fade in odors sweet. 


1 wish thee joy warm, sunny jo 
Without defeat, without alloy, 


And never to depart 
For thce, may still the sunbeam s glow, 
The zephyr? rise, the fiow rcts blow, 

All cheerful, cheer ihy heart. 

May friendship with a smile of truth; 
Unchanging still in age and youth, 

Still guide and blcs thy way; 
And well I know, that innocence, 
tVhich marks thee still, from Pron dencV, 

Shall keep its holy sway. 

And when the hours of merriment, 
Are gone, and life is nearly spent, 

And weaker grows its chain 
May mercy take the sting from death, 
And Conscience trt the latest breath, 

Disarm his gloomy reign*. 

Fhc Jlfufd of Corinth to her lover Palcmon, on taking 
Jus likeness from the shadow on the wall, which is supposed 
*o haVe given birth to the first idea of 


[ tmUaltdfrom Hit French of L\ibbf M(nard.] 

t"he lamp. which round me threw its feeble rays* 
And *>cnt my mind to contemplation s tone, - 
Thy hallowed image on the wall portray*, 
And reckless Fancy breaks her raptured zone, 
To view thy noble form the sovereign of its own. 

Absent Pafcmon! Even in fancy s dfcam 
The shade which molks the longingf of the heart* 
More than rwmldanct to the eye can seem. - 
Allay the pang of separation * dart, 
JrSll iip the vacant mind, find transient bliss impart. 

Yo fix the w. -loved shade that glimmer* bright, 
Thy Angel-form, that haunts young Love s first dream, 
it shH vanish with the flickering light, 


Or ruthless morning s rude and gaudy beam, 
Robbing me of my bliss thy form my constant the^ne; 

Let Love my pencil guide. Let him inspire 
Thy living features. As thy form I con, 
Let Mnnury bring her blaze of living fire, 
To paint thy shape thyself, my Palemon, , 
Of noble, deeds, the sire of noble sires the 


Rising on the Zephyr s wing, 
Like the new-born God of Day, 

Welcome, to the coming Spring, 
With its bright and ro5y ray. 

Skimming lightly o er the flow rs, 
liringing sweets and taking none, 

Now in air she gaily tow rs, 

Winning brightness from the sun. 

O er the sleeping forest, shaking 
Dews and odor from her wing, 

Flow rs and birds alike awaking, 
From the earth to greet her spring, 

Once again the foliage lives, 

Once again its blessing bringing 

And the drooping year revives, 
And the lark again is singing. 

Promises anew are given, 

Like the rainbow pledge of yore, 
Though the sun grow dim ii heaven, 

Ileaveu its brightness shall restore. 


Again I stop, again the toil refuse 
Away for pity s sake, distracting Muse! 


Nor thus come smiling wilh thy bridal tricks 
Between my studious face and politics. 
Is it for thee to mock the frown of fate? 
Look round, look round, and mark my desperate state. 
Cannot thy gifted eyes a sight behold, 
That might have quelled the Lesbian bard of old,* 
And made the blood of Dante s self run cold? 
Lo, first this table spread with fearful books, 
On which, whoe er can help it, never looks; 
Committee letters, resolutions, hints, 
And inuendos from the rival prints, 
Essays to prove, on pain of our undoing, 
The Tariff bad, but Nullification ruin; 
Excerpts, and crudities, and sciajTS of libel, 
That source of wit, the dasturd blockhead s bible. 
Scarce from the load, a.s from a heap of dead, 
My poor old Homer shews his honored head, 
Euripides in darkness yields to fate. 

And Plutarch bends beneath the filthy weight, jj 

Horace alone (tin rogue!) his doom has missed, f 

Arid lies at case upon the pension list* \ 

I. yield, I yield once more I turn to you, 
Harsh Politics! And once more hid adieu 
To the soft dreaming of the Muse s bowers, 
Their sun-streaked fruits and fairy painted flower*. 
Farewell, for gentler times, ye laurelled shades, 
Farewell, ye sparkling brooks, and haunted glades, 
Where the trim shapes, that bathe in moonlight eavcv 
Glance through the light and whisper in the leaves. 
Farewell, farewell, dear Muse, and all thy pleasure, 
Jfe conquers case, who would U: crown d with leisure! 


When shall I seek with spirit bright, 
For that dear world that gentle home,- 

Where still in tones of true delight, 
Each young affection bids me come? 

The home of childhood truest joy, 
The youthful bosom ever knew, 


Where to the wild and wayward boy, 

His strongest, best attachments grew. 
Oh, that the eagle s wings were mine, 

Once* more auionj those scenes to pore, 
Bkst by the ioy for which I pine, 

And faces 1 may see no more. 
Borne on my fancy s wings I rove, 

To where, in youth, each step was bent; 
I climb the hill, I trace the grove, 
Each spot, in fairy pleasures spent. 

1 seek again the murm riilg biook, 

That, by our cottage, wound its coune? 
Or, where among the rocks it took * 

An aspect rough, an accent hoarse. 
I wander o er the hamlet grey, 

Whose ruins wear a cheirful mien 
And gatlit-r neath the ancient hay, 

An .I watch the dances of the green. 
In memory blest with every scene, 

Perchance, I never more shall see, 
Fancy shall weave her go u cn dream* . 

And moke her bliss r6alit. 


Who at parting said, we shall mttt a gait. 

Oh, I would smile at human wo, 

Defy the bitter world s disdain, 
If, as thou siy st, tiro parting now, 

We two slrill meet shall meet again, 
This parting, to the riven breast, 

Is like some fell and fatal Mow; 
That promise, like a dream of rest, 

Half balms the wound, half soothes the wot*?- 
And if that sweet delusive dream, 

Should false and frail and fading prove, 
1 gather still, a. kindlier beam, 

Still cheering sv.vetly fro-n auovc. 
What though the life be gloomy now. 

What though the bitter world disdain, 
I heed them not tis written lo! 

We two shall meet shall meet n 



I place Ihcc in a cold retreat, 

Where Summer s Minbcams slightly beat, 

For thee, a (hvcl ling place, I ve made, 

Mont; things of kindred bloom and shadu 

Secure with them, the driving storm, 

T(jy penile stems shall not deform; 

Hut, still throughout thy sacred sphere, 

A Summer influence linger there. 

Innoxious weeds shall never spread, 

Their ( influence on thy bed, 

But merry on sportive wing, 

Shall know thcc as a sacred thing, 

And come, with Zephyr hurrying by, 

With odor, and rich mclotly; 

While spirits, nf a gentle make, 

A wardship of thy world shall take, 

And, viewless, watch by the light, 

And dance around thcc through tiitf ni^hU 

Making thy home, a guarded place, 

Secure from all of colder race, 

Arid worthy of the gentle eyes, 

For which, alone, I bid ihec rise, 



On pinions of the swiftest gale, 
Joyful, thy glad return, I hail 

To Carolina s shore; 

Each sea-born nymph conspired to guide, 
Thy vessel through the foaming tide, 

And bring thee back once more. 


With rosy wine and chaplel* gay, 
I ll celebrate the smiling day 

That brought thee here again; 
to Friendship s joys I ll sweep the Ly 


Thy blest return my vere shall fire, 
it. Escaped the raging main. 


Skilled in the magic, pleasing trt; 
Oft hast thou soothed a parent s heart, 

That mourned her drooping child; 
Relieved her from the gulph of woe, 
When death prepared his shaft to throw, 

With aspect grim and wild. 


From thee Hygeia s gifts arise, 
On me be placed the Ivy prize, 

Amid the echoing wood: 
W r here nymnhsand satyrs haunt the grove, 
Thro* woodland scenes I love to rove, 

Secluded from the crowd. 


I dare not gaze upon thy form, 

For, all too bright, 
Those eyes that speak, those lips that warip, 

Obscure the sight. 

Yet, still I may thy charms rehearse, 

With truth, and well; 
And in each wild and vagrant verse, 

Describe cajch spoil. 

Thy spirit-speaking eye must be, 

An endless theme; 
Thy pure soul ever raise in me, 

Some tranced dream. 

Ah, still they wake in me the sigh, 

And flows the tear! 
Ah, madness thus to venture nigh, 

The spells^ fear. 

They glance too gl ori on ? / still, though sweot, 
My soul has riven, 


Even, as the lightning s winged sheet, 
Comes yet from heaven. 

Thou hast the crown that Virtue wreathes, 

Wiih beauty s spell- 
And but a word my spirit breathes, 

Farewell farewell! 


Farewell, farewell! I may not brook, 
That changing eye, that careless look, 

Nor live beneath thy scorn 
Thy spells are winning still to me, 
Hut having U eu my liberty 

They are no longer worn. 

Farewell! but though unshrinking thus, 
I break the ties that coupled us, 

I may not break the spell. 
Through the long waste of life before, 
I still must sigh when whisp ring o er* 

^hat sorrowful farewell! 


Forget me not the Pilgrim s vow, 

Was never breath d more fervently, 
Than that I murmur to thee now, ^r, 

That thou wilt still remember me. 
Forget me not!" the fond reflection 

That I shall live within thy thought, 
Dispels each gloomy recollection, 

And I repeat, "Forget me not." 

Forget me not a sweeter spell, 

Ne er bound or blc&s d the youthful heart* 

eaeh shall fee 1 and cherish well, 
The pledge each give* when doom d to part 


Forget me not but mine s t token, 
By memory ne er to be forgot, 

A heart that may be blighted, broken, 
But loyes, and will forget thee not. 


If placid features, grace and ease, 

The gazer s glance may bind . 
And Beauty s charms forever please, 

In thee, all these we find. 
Well may the Muse exulting praise 

Charms, winning all as thine, 
For thee, attone her softest lays, 

For thee her garlands twine. 
But what fond Muse may paint thy heart, 

Thy spirit, taste, rcfin d ^ 
Or, where the Poet s daring art, 

To search thy polish d mind? 
Twould task a nobler Muse than mine, 

Of s ich a theme to speak, 
AnJ not one Muse, but all the nine, 

Might prove their labours weak. 



But grant us jocund peace, our choicest tfdsurt, 
Which gives to life fair study s worthy leisure, 
And wake up holy fear, with chastened pleasure 

Mildly combining. 

The arts around her fecund bosom clinging, 
View justice flourish, peopled cities springing, 
And piety, each moral virtue bringing 

In honor shining. 

Where war appears, integrity is blasted, 
Law overthrown, and every blessing wasted, 


Religion crush d, and ull its balm unUstcd, 

Mid desolation, rjj 


JLong may our Jackson live, his country loving, ,..*| 
With golden Peace thro all her rallies Amoving, > 
And Heaven itself fair Union s Sons approving, 

tf ail Happy Nation 1 


",u-, V 

The rose thou gav gt is in decay, 

Its bloom is gone, its odour fled, 
And men would fiini$ the wreck away, 

For all its early charms are dead. 

Tis beauty s emblem, that poor flow r, 

Thus fading in its early morn 
The charm, the plaything of an hour, 

Decreed, forever, thence, to scorn. / 

Not so not o4 Though bloom be past, 

And youth with all its charms take wing* 
In memory will its freshness last, 

Still tended by perpetual spring. 

Thus will 1 keep this withcrM flow r, 

In token of that early bloom; 
And memory, heedful of her dow r, 

Shall plant it on affection s tomb. 


if the leti thou sheddest now, 
Speak a sorrow, deep and drear, 

Then my own at once shall flow, 
I will give thcc tear.ipr tear. 

But if dreams of fancied wo, 

Bring to view the crysul rill, , j ,f ;H 
So lovely do they make you now, 

I would have you weep them 


[Tt-atiMlated from the Iliad Book 3, t> 15.] 

When front to front the hostile troops appeared, 
And gleaming spears a bristling front upreared; 
Paris, the foremost of the Trojan hands, 
His fiery warriors, clothed in mail, commands. j 
A Panther s spoil, the gaily spotted hide 
Streamed from his shoulders: glittering at his side, 
Swung his bright sword, to deal the deadly blow; 
His hack sustained the loudly-twanging bow, 
With threatening spear, and goM-embroidered shield 
lie hurPd the gauntlet on the war clad field, 
And dared each Grecian Hero to advance, 
To wield the sword, and toss the weighty lance. 
As rabid Lion from the* mountain brakes 
With hollow roar the echoing forest shakes, 
And darts, like gleaming lightning, in the air, 
On bounding roe, or proudly antlered deer; 
And, while he keeps the hunter s dogs at bay, 
Devour* in h:isle the unresisting prey; 
Thus Menelaus joyed when he beheld 
The god-like Paris bonding to the field, 
And from his chariot with a lofty bound, 
With clanging arms he reached the dusty ground, 
And hastened with a warrior s gen roua heat, 
Thua, point to point, the enamoured boy to meet. 
* But conscious guilt the Hero s heart oppressed 
And pallid fear usurped his manly breast, 
\Vith shameful naste, he fled the martial fight, 
And shunned th effect of injured honor s right. 
As traveler wandering in the mazy path 
Retreats and shuns the venomed serpent s wrath 
Whosfj darting tongue, and warning coil bespeak 
The fatal vengeance which he means to wreakj 
Thus fearful terror seized the Phrygian boy 
Whose passion roused the angry arms of Troy 
Nor bravely dared the anxious foe to fight, 
Hut sought for safety in inglorious flight. 


Should Passion rule o er Reason s throne, 
And wave Love s sceptre, full of ire, 


Forgetful of soft Pity s moan, 
Lost in the storm of wild Desire: 
While Honor Justice love of Fame 
All perish in the maddening flame. 

9 * 

But should the Gods propitious hear, ? 

Ar.ii grant their suppliant votary s prayer, 
The hallowed wish the vow sincere 
The transport soft. the tender tear 
And Truth which time nor fate can mote- 
Attend the steps of sacred love. 


And, what is he, whose frenzied brain, 

lias felt that deeply throbbing pain, 

Whic.i Cupid s maddened votaries prove? 

Our dove-eyed maidens call it LOVE. 

A being formed by magic power 

Created in a single hour. 

Now bending tvith adoring knee. 

In maddening youthful ccstacy, 

And deeply gazing all the while, 

To catch the play of Beauty s smile. * 

Her glance it makes his bosom thrill 

And heave against his urgent will. 

Her smile it is to him a star, 

That lights to glory from afar. 

Her touch it makes his pulse* swell/ 

As none but lovers hearts can tell. * 

Her kiss it makes the coward brave, 

And lights him to a glorious grave. 

Ohl should incontancy but lower, 
This being kindled in an hour, 
When cold neglect or scorn estrange*, 
This being, in a minute, changes. 
His eye indignant roves above, 
Disdainful of a woman s lover 
Her whom he fondly loved of late, 
He now can view with scornful hate. 
His pulses in his bosom beat, 
At every glance with maddening beat. 
A vivid and a piercing pain, 
Hurries like lightning thro his brain. 

46 R B M A I X S 10 RT 1 C AL, 

And frenzied by a lover s scorn, 
He oyrses Heaven that he was born. 


Oh! by that genuine sympathy 
Which draws my very soul to theej 
Which touches in my faithful breast 
Accordant notes \vhen4hou art blest; 
And makes me feel with tenfold srasri 
Each anguish which assaults thy heart 
O er thee its pure vibration spread, 
Pure, sensitive in heart and head; 
Impel thine eyes to trace each line, 
Thy soul to feel they must be mine, 
Which seeks on this revolving day, 
To chase corroding care away: 
Lure from thy soul the embryo sigh, 
iExpel the tea r that dims thine eye, 
Pluck from thy memory by stealtfi 
Kevcrted thought, that foe to health, 
And \yith prophetic ken explore, 
What ripening time has ytl in store, 
And Hope return, a truant guest, 
Long stranger to that aching breast, 


Why dwells my soul with rapture on thy form* 
Why, to my pillowM visions comes serene, 
Thy imaged sweetness why, amid the scene, 

Of human tumult, and the driving storm, 

Of faction, does thy beauty still arise, 

While my car drinks, with melody replete 
Sweet tales of thee and of thy converse sweet, 

While still unclosed, remain my kindled eyes? 

And when the unobtrusive slumber steals, 

Nestling upon my pillow, still, sweet thought, 
Prone ever to the one, is then inwrought, 

Among my dreams, and my glad hope reveals, 

The uncurtained future, and I see thee then, 

And wake, and wish, and strive to dream again. 



That velvet down, that blushing check* t >^ 
Those eyes that eloquently speak; 
That modest front where CANDOR dwells, 
Where ISHOCCVCB each art repels: 
Those virgin lips, whose glowing red 
Arc still with sense and sweetness fed; 
Those smiling dimples, chaste yet free, 
Those ar:hed brows turned by symmetry; 
That skin s pure spotless dazzling hue, 
Prone to betray ih* et-herial blue 
Which those rich veins of health impart, 
And serve to indicate thy heart, 
Which, ere youth s visions flit away, 
Seems ready for a brighter day; 
These teach us, and in thrse we reid 
The beauty and the good, indeed. 

"For her who can best understand Ihem." 

These pretty flowrets whence are they 
From what bright isle of Indian aeaa, 
Borne on the pinions of the breeze, 

And won from regions faraway? 

Vain trophies! from your tufted green, 

Why came ye to a rival sky? 
A fairer flowret here is seen, 

And ye are conquered ye must die! 


What though ye have the lily ? 
The rose s blush of rich delight, 
Of both tri* odour and the glow-- 
The graces of that brow that wears, 
Would shame your high pretence *> low, 
That ye would melt away in tears. 



When hope ftnt taught affection fond to smile, 

How glowed the bosom with pathetic fire! 

When love energic, deep concealed erewhile, 

Burst forth in eloquence of wild desire: 

When absence taught my breast what twas to love: 

When virtue beauty-^pathoi every grace 

In all thy actions won me to approve, 

When geperal smiles of sympathy, thy face 

In virtuous modesty, without alloy 

Bedecked: what felt my passion-throbbing soul? 

Oh! who can say? Weak languogp, thou enjoy 

Thy partial reign: I would not thee control. 

My feelings when or how can I impart 

Ah! who can find a language for the heart? 



Dr. Alcucius boasts his skill, 

To worms destroy with purge and pill 

In saying thus he tells no lie, 

As I will prove and show you why 

For scripture says in plainest terms, 

That men are nothing more than worms. 


Dick with long glance and arch grimace. 
Will cringe and flatter to your face, 
But, when you ve turned your back on Dick, 
He would not do so mean a trick, * 


A Pedant once his Pupil met, 

And bade him from the wall to get 


He, to a rascal, would not give 
The wall as long as he should Vive. 
The Pupil, rich in wit and whim, 
Replied, "I will" and gave it him. 

[From the French of Voltairt.] 

Tom, impudently calls me mad, 
I, ignorantly, called hint wise; 

Trust nol what by cither s said, 
I lied he lies! 


Exhaustless still is Tommy s wit! 

Y T ou ask me why, 

And I reply, 
Because he never uses it 

Tom s wit will be exhausted never t 

And with what cause, you ask me dryly- 

Because, he use* it so shyly, 
Little or none, would last forever. 


Dick when a beggar p-ess d him sore, 
Seeking a simple groat,- 

"1 give-thee u//, J can no more"- 
He said, and gave him nought! 


This motley, uni /ersal c 

Hav* ail t common aim in viaw 


And each vith close and earnest uit, 
Is for the leaves and flmv rs and fruit; 
Yet each pursues a diflvrent way 
Some drink, some dance and othert pray; 
Eroh at his fellow sneers or laughs, 
Whether he dances, prays or quufls 
The libertine, the sot, the monk, 
Yet ill are blind, and all are drunk. 

[From the French.] 

Sweetly you breMhe the melting lay, 
And. Oh! how happy should 1 be, 

If on your lip, I might repay, 
The bliss that now it gives to me.